Loading the bikes was an easy affair with no packing to be done and after meeting up with Michelle and her husband and thanking them again for their amazing generosity, we were soon back on the bikes and heading off to find the ferry that would take us across the Chobi River and into Zambia.

With our exit stamps out of Botswana collected, we rode past the queue of cars for the ferry and after 20 minutes made our way up onto the pontoon. Rickety old planks made parking up awkward. Ten minutes later and we were in Zambia. County number 31.

Formalities weren’t difficult but paper work took for ages as the customs guy was dealing with a small company importing ten cars and all needing countless pieces of paperwork checked and stamped in triplicate. Eventually it was our turn. With our Carnets stamped and checked by 4 different people and with 3rd party insurance bought at $10 for 30 days per bike, we could finally leave. Livingstone was only 65Km away but by now it 4:30pm. We weren’t going to try and go further. An hour later and we were pulling up and signing into Maramba River Lodge (at GPS………) and trying to unsuccessfully negotiate down the $5 per person camping fee. Being so close to a town we weren’t going to risk bush camping.

Well here we are. The sun has set, we’re in a new county and have just enjoyed a small BBQ with a couple of Auzzie bikers, who’d flown out to SA, bought two BMW F650 Funduros and were just blasting around the African continent. We’re off to bed now with the noise of hippos in the river beneath us and the distant roar of Victoria Falls only 4Km away. This is just wonderful.

It was time to see where all the noise was coming from, so jumping on my bike we headed for the falls. A huge plume of mist shooting vertically, was visible from the moment of leaving the tree line surrounding the campsite and we were still 4 Km away.

OK so this things big. We still hadn’t got our head round exactly how vast Vic falls is.

As we parked the bike, laughing coming from over our shoulder caught our attention. Groups of tourist walking from the falls to their vehicles all grinning like idiots and allcompletely drenched. I don’t mean a bit wet, I mean these lot had had a few to many and dived in.

Entry was $10 US. Well it is normally but we handed over a $20 note with a small head on it. Apparently most businesses in Zambia use a government bank, which only accepts the newer US dollars with the larger head of one of the dead presidents. We didn’t know? The small-headed notes are still legal tender and we don’t have anything else. With this explained the laid back guards said “Aaah don’t worry, it’s not your problem, go on in”. You didn’t have to ask us twice.

Down a few steps and our first glimpse of the falls came into view. Fifty metres further and the noise was already deafening and the air heavy with moisture. Another 50 metres and we knew why everyone was soaked. The immense power of this natural wonder sends thousand of gallons of water and spray so high into the air, that it has time too collect and descend as large rain droplets. Not mist like we’d experienced at other large falls but rain, the amount of which completely obscures the falls. We simply went closer, put on our cagoules and got drenched.

What a thrilling experience. The continuous torrent of mist, vapour and rain was thrilling. The Walk across ‘knife edge bridge’, which lies right in front of the falls, was enough to make us nervous.

The views are breathtaking and the experience one we’d recommend. Apparently the views are even better from the Zimbabwe side but we don’t have the money for the visas.

Spent the day catching up on diary and sorting the hundreds of photos we’d taken at Chobi.

…more of the same.

As we got our selves ready to go to bed two hugge hippos walked out of the river, straight passed the bar, had a sniff of the swimming pool and spent the next 15 minutes inspectring our tent and bikes...simply amazing an experience!

Time to leave Maramba. Next destination Lusaka. Having ridden 256 miles without a break we reached Eureka camping (10km outside Lusaka) by 2:30pm. Nice site, and $5 each so not outrageous. Eureka Camping is at GPS:S15 30.226 E28 15.912

Packing up slowly we eventually got on the road at 10:30am and made our way through Lusaka to pick up the T2 and ‘The Great North Road’ which stretches all the way up to the Tanzania border.

The sights and smells on the north side of town were reminiscent of those we’d seen in Southern Morocco and even Mali. Squalor and dirt is the norm’, with families eking out an existence in any way they can.The dirty dusty air completed the similarity.

The T2 rose out in front of us seemingly endlessly, and so it continued. By 4pm we needed some extra fuel. Not desperately but it was another 240km to Mpika and the next gas station. It had been a steady day. We’d been stopped at every single police checkpoint of which we counted 12. Twice a cursory request for papers was asked for and the remainder just wanted to look at the bikes and find out their top speed. With the sun making a downward break, we pressed on hoping to get to Mpika and find some camping.

It didn’t happen. Little or nothing was available when we arrived. It was pitch black and 8pm. We pushed on aiming for ‘Kapishya Hot Springs Camping’ at Shiwa Ngandu, and hoped there’d be someone up to let us in. Friends we’d met in Cape Town and who’d listed it as ‘A MUST’ had recommended we visit.

And so began the last and most difficult leg of what had turned out to be a very long day. Following the sign we turned off the T2 and immediately onto a dirt track. 5km later and a gateman waived us through. The dirt track by now had turned to soft carved up sand.

It was still another32Km to the camp. The idea of another 32km of soft deep rutted sand was in the dark horrific; we’d already done 484miles and wanted to stop. The last few hours of night riding had been tiring, watching continuously for the verge grasses to part and wildlife run out in front of us.

‘Gateman’ smiled and told us quite earnestly that the sand continued for another 12km and then an easy gravel track would lead us all the way to the Kapishya…he was mistaken. The sand got worse and we were still running rock solid, fully inflated road pressure in our tyres, reluctant to deflate them, as soon we’d hit the solid gravel track…yeah right! After what seemed like an age riding deeper and deeper into the forest, I was starting to get a little spooked. We’d ridden what felt like miles, it was pitch black and we were knackered. It was now 10:45pm.

By 11:20pm and finally with sand pressure in our tyres we made the last few Km and pulled into the campsite. Erecting the tent in the headlights is never fun, especially following a 500-miles+ day and 12 hours riding.

The hot tent woke us at 7am, another glorious day was already happening outside.

The 5 tents and 6 4X4’s had already packed up and left. Great we have the place to ourselves. And so began a wonderful day of relaxing and simply enjoying a magical place. Yes last night’s grief was all worth it!

An old English looking country house sits happily within the manicured grounds of the neatly kept garden and soft frondy grass dips lazily into the fast flowing river that also runs past the bottom of the small campsite. With a couple of coffee’s downed to kick start our day and having registered at the house, we soon found the hot spring.

The crystal clear water bubbles at its steady 45 degrees is maintained by the active Fischer’s lying deep below. The hot pool nestling back into the emerald vegetation just seems a little to picture perfect. The next 3 hours we just vedged. Tonight we’ll pack away most things ready for an early start tomorrow, build a fire and watch the stars. We’ll probably pinch one another just to make sure we’re no dreaming this.

The noise of the river woke us at around 7am and before long we’d stuffed belongings back into bags and bungeed them down onto the bikes. Back at the reception house we slowly sipped on fresh brewed coffee and chatted to a few of the other guest.

It was time to pay up. $7 per person per night plus two packed lunched we’d had yesterday at $7 each, with sundries and a few drinks added in for good measure our bill was going to be around $60, way over what we could afford. We needed to strike a deal, and so 10 minutes later we were paying $30 in total and handing over copies of photographs I’d taken of the springs by way of exchange.

Lisa wasn’t looking forward to the ride back to the main road. in truth neither was I? Waving goodbye to the hot springs we were soon easing our heavy bikes down sandy ruts and waiting for it to get worse. The track so far had required concentration but wasn’t difficult. “When do we get to the bad bits”, Lisa asked over the intercom repeatedly? I wasn’t sure. We recognised parts of the track bad strangely had remembered them being so different.

The ‘hard bits’ never came and before long we ridden the 30km and were back at the main road. We’d recalled the track being a nightmare, when it was actually fine, the difference simply being the dark and fatigue having first ridden it at the end of a 500-mile day.

At the junction with the T2 we pulled over to re-inflate our tyres to road pressure. As the pressure increased so did the audience of children we attracted. All excited and inquisitive to see the bikes and the Martians riding them. Nervousness gave way to excitement and before long we were answering question and finally we were allowed to take a few photos. The smiles these kids have are huge and easy, in stark contrast to the lives they lead. Torn t-shirts and ripped old trousers that don’t fit, which drag on the ground skirting their naked feat confirm the poverty. These kids are so remarkably resilient.

We accelerated back onto the T2 to cheers from the kids and clicked quickly through the gears to find our now usual 100kph. If we can get a move on then our aim is to camp tonight at the ‘Karabuni Mission Centre’ in Tanzania.

Long straight sections of tar disappeared into the distant scrub whilst alien looking disfigured and barren trees lined both sides of the road like creepy sentinels always watching. As we continued the land became greener and thick vegetation again became the norm, with the occasional break allowing us to get a quick glance at the mud building and shelters that so many here call home. By late afternoon we’d made good progress and within a few hours would arrive at the Tanzanian border where we'd also have to arrange our Visa’s. 5Km from the border and the number of police stops was increasing and we were still being stopped at every single one. The border was relative chaos, huge lorries parked up blocking the way, vendors selling everything and anything ran across the road, livestock meandered around dazed but unimpressed by all the commotion and two English motorcyclist tried to make their way through the middle of it, whilst money changers ran flat out to keep up insisting their rates would be the best and how much did we need to change…wow these guys can run!!!

This felt much more like West Africa, odd then when we realised that this was as reassuring as it was scary, we kinda’ knew the rules.

An officer dressed in impractical white, frowned and waved us through the rusting yellow barrier. Three young men did battle with one another as to which one was going to show us where the customs building was and then of course charge us…too late we’ve already found it.

With the bikes parked up I left Lisa outside to fend off the would be ‘bike-watchers’ insisting we would need them to safe guard our machines. Inside the immigration and customs building stained yellow paint painfully peeled itself off the damp and rotting plaster. Large brown holes pot marked the ceiling where water had obviously torn through during a downpour and commercial drivers filled in mountains of forms in triplicate. A young smartly dressed man looking completely out of place waived me over. A few minutes later we were in his small annexed office bartering over Visa prices. The end result was…we paid $50 each for single entry visa that will last 3 months and strangely even though we are returning to Tanzania on our return Southern leg we don’t need multiple entry Visa’s.

NOTE:Multiple entry Visas are only required if you are leaving East Africa (Tanzania, Kenya, Uganda, Mozambique etc) and then coming back in.

Clutching our newly acquired Visas in my left hand and having also managed to get our Carnets stamped we could finally leave, although we still needed to buy 3rd party insurance and grab some fuel. We’d now been here almost 3 hours and the border was closing. The ‘insurance lady’ had gone and the petrol station had closed. We still had 70km to Mbeya. When the last barrier was eventually raised it was dark, this didn’t feel good.

The good tar road disappeared and gravel and rock took its place but only because of resurfacing work and so the switch between good tar and pot-holed gravel continued all the way to Mbeya. When the city limits came into view we were running on fumes. With a few wrong turns made and directions asked we rode down a small dirt track and at last found Karabuni Camp mission. Tired and hungry we took a small room for 8,000 shillings (£4). The soft bed and running water were a welcome way to finish what had bee along day.