Mozambique - Beaches and Bullet Holes

From R. Garcia we headed east on the EN4, a decent tarmac road but with a few fairly hectic and madly-congested, potholed and/or dirt-only spots due to road works on the surrounds of Maputo, then headed north on the EN1. Many radar traps as well, though fairly easy to spot as a pack of bright white shirts and blue trousers on the roadside ahead (usually converged under a large – and obvious - shady tree or some overhang for shade). We’d been warned of four traffic police issues that would have to be regularly contended with in Moz: bored police looking for a ‘spot fine’; radar guns with suspect calibration; and spot checks to ensure the vehicle has a blue background/yellow triangle decal on front right bumper (and corresponding, larger one, on rear of any trailer in tow); and a yellow high-viz jacket not just in carry but placed in sight over the drivers chair and worn anytime out of the vehicle in a mechanical issue or accident. Apparently any of these were all fairly flexible hassles at one time or the other but so far – and to the experience of everyone else we have met so far – the only stops have been for legitimate speeding infractions and nobody has had the slightest hassle in any way other so all agree there must have been a (surprising but highly-welcomed) decree from on high to leave the tourista alone unless truly justified. Though in trying to drive legally it can be a bit maddening to just hit top cruising speed in a clear 120 Kph zone (about 105-110 for us) only to have a random downturn to 80, then 60 be required (always the two in tandem, about 200-300 metres apart) and have to slow for no apparent reason but seems easy enough to avoid the fines if you just play the game and drive as demanded (note to all those ZA-registered vehicles with trailers, convoyed up to 5 in total regularly roaring past us in a grouped right-side pass at 160+ ...).
From all the warnings and prior generalizations we continued to be impressed with the quality of the roads and were able to hit a decent stride and sit back and enjoy the passing, stunning scenery; all long lazy climbs and descents across rolling hills lush with palm though admittedly spare of much else (unless you count piles of hardwood stacked road side to be sold as firewood as an arboreal sight ...). Oddly enough there are also few birds, and many times I’ve started as a butterfly wings past my windscreen, realizing I’d not seen anything else fly by in hours ... A lot of fruit though: papayas and oranges arranged in pyramids of bright colour at roadside vendors, or cashew nuts bagged up and held aloft to attract the passing trade by young guys pulling off odd dance moves as an eye-catcher and appeal for his trade over those of the competition strung out along the road (though no matter how appealing the individual’s act it’s tough to get down from 100 to zero in enough space to stop direct at the chosen vendor and not instead about 8 others down the line ...).
We stopped for lunch at Manhica, nice a break from the usual routine of a boervors-stuffed bun on the go, and Clare enjoyed her first round of Mozambique prawns in a mild curry, while I went for a Portuguese-style beef casserole as we were still far from the coast so I thought I’d hold out til I could smell the sea. Both excellent – a relief, as Clare has been looking forward to Moz prawns since arriving in SA and as the rest of the trip is going to be fairly non-vegetarian friendly it was good to see the seafood here was going to live up to the hype.
We camped that night at Praia do Xai-Xai, arriving at Xai Xai Beach Camp to see John and Lynda set up ahead of us. A fairly dismal place with ablutions you felt dirtier leaving than on entering so we had a nice night’s wine drinking in their camper but were both underway early – them far earlier than us as all they had much to do is start the truck whereas we must collapse the tent, fire up the kettle on the gas burner etc and it all takes time regardless of sense of urgency to get away and on the move ...
On leaving, the GPS seemed very confused and directed us not back up to the main road but instead to turn on ourselves and head onto the dirt road bordering the beach used more for ATV’s between lodgings than any vehicle traffic. Turns out that dirt rack was in fact the main road and cleanest route north. So in second we dug into the sand and began to bang along the beautiful coastline for a kilometre or two, rolling with the potholes and dips in the road, soon in a ‘like being at sea’ rhythm and was even able to proceed along with coffee mug in hand, thinking this was actually a very pleasant route when on turning up at the abandoned hotel (which the GPS uses as a route marker) I in one frantic move swore in surprise, shot the coffee mug over at Clare and threw the gears into diff lock low as I faced an immediate very steep, very thick with sand gradient up and right which we hit with perfect speed but were soon ground to a halt two thirds of the way up. Back down and gave it another go but made it only a few feet further. Back again and walked back up lugging the rubber sand mats to give it a proper ‘dune driving’ effort but that too was for nowt and we had to admit defeat and turn back along the road to our campsite and then up to the main road as seemed the logical route to me in the first place. Lost 90 minutes for it all but did get in some good, if completely unexpected, sand experience ... Lesson number whatever number it was by that time: ignore the Garmin if it just doesn’t seem to make sense when measured against your own common sense ...
The road up between Xai Xai and Chissibuca is under construction (by a Chinese company, of course – though for a change with local work crews employed for labour, not imported in as is apparently the norm in most other Chinese projects ...) and is a huge mess, torn down to bare earth and badly rutted, potholed and corrugated; do not attempt in the rain and luckily the 90 minute dune battle had allowed the road to dry out from the pre-dawn shower we’d woken to so that thick mud was not also added to the mix which we’d been warned would make it virtually impassable. Hard going, running the gears from 2 through 4 and back down again repeatedly, slaloming the obstacles and very competitive against the oncoming traffic with often single track being the best way through it all but when it does clear up and you hit the tarmac of the finished areas it is very smooth sailing and will be a terrific stretch of road on completion (should it last the next rainy season ...).
We made it up to Pandene, 350 km’s north, muddy but unscarred, and banged down the corrugated road from the highway for a few kilometres towards the beach before fatefully choosing the more “scenic” of the two routes into the campsite – from ‘normal’ road to diff lock low and a ridiculous narrow, rolling, thick sand road in through the local village housing before emerging somewhat ‘wtf??’ from that unexpected change of driving requirement to the Pandene Beach Resort, which greeted us with a large sign stating “4WD only beyond this point; drop all tires to 1 bar before proceeding.” However the road was downhill to our spot so no issue other than the usual sand wrestling but on getting to the bottom had no choice but to drop all down to 1000 psi to make it the final 5 feet in to set up. After getting the tent up and camp sorted I set up the compressor to re-inflate the tires, which proved easy enough and had all back up within 30 minutes; however – and there’s always an however to such tales – in doing so the plug, set into the cigarette lighter for power, got so hot it fused the fuse into a solid bright red cap of solid plastic and shorted out all of our required plug-in points for GPS, snack fridge, etc. Much swearing; but the camp itself is on an incredible stretch of beach though we were the only ones staying on the entire site the neighbouring resort’s bar was bar lively for the World Cup and SA vs France rugby so overall a decent spot and a nice 2 nights chilling out.
Up next towards the hub for north/south travel at Vilankulos, on the worst road experienced anywhere outside of the legendary stretch between Siem Reap, Cambodia and the Thai border, where whole vehicles get swallowed in the sinkholes – and I didn’t have to drive that one ... Just had to laugh through it, over 120 kms of total disaster; drove most of it on the dirt soft-shoulder, the road itself pitted like moonscape and so beyond repair it doesn’t even look like a road but just random tarmac in between potholes ... Made a mess of timings and got into town late, settling in on the beachfront at Complexo Turistico Josef e Tina, which though recommended (and locally run) is about as spare and spartan as you’d want to actually have to pay for ... Yes; there is an ablutions block; but, no, though, there is no water ... With no fresh on board and no re-supply available en route we need to, unfortunately, head out for dinner. Where’s best to eat, we ask? Across the road we are told, though we should go over there now and wake up the staff and ask they go and “find some seafood” so we can order dinner in “about 3 hours or so.” Uhhuh, I think we’ll just go for a walk and see what else might be available ... Safe around here? Sure, no problem at all unless you’re a single female we’re reliably informed by the South African woman who runs the fairly swank guest house next door. The coastline was badly hit by a cyclone in “2006 or 2007” according to everyone we spoke to (why then, being such an obviously catastrophic event, did nobody know exactly what year it had happened in ...??) but appears to be well under re-construction though still quite a ways away from being fully back on its feet (if in fact it actually ever was there ...). Nowhere though to eat and on we truck, first in one direction and then doubling back on ourselves back the other. Finally after about 90 minutes – in the dark – we find Smugglers and collapse in for a few beers and very good prawn curry. A welcome respite and not at all the pumping sports bar we thought it might be from the way it is advertised. Having (suitably/almost) recovered, we head back rejuvenated, accompanied by two local dogs who obviously find us to be the most entertaining action going in town and provide a good perimeter escort, veering alternately left and right as people appear from the shadows and giving a bark or two announcement that they were there on guard and they’d best give us some distance and they walked us right to our gate before peeling off without ceremony, task done and more adventures certain to be found elsewhere. Only on meeting other travellers later on the route were we told that was actually a very bad stretch of road nobody would recommend anyone ever walking on after dark as muggings were commonplace ...
The next morning we went off in search of a mechanic with electrical expertise and at the local supermarket, just past Smugglers, and while Clare shopped for dry stores I struck up a convo with a local guy who pulled up in a CARE-logo’ed Land Cruiser. He was working HIV awareness programmes in the area and knew everyone – we must go and speak to Dodo, a left turn down off the Barclays on the high street, of which we are currently at one far end of, with the market anchoring the other (and an area best avoided unless you want money changed, carry an aggro don’t-mess-with-me-attitude on display and have a firm hold of your wallet at all times ...). Dodo has our fuse issue sussed and sorted within 90 minutes, and for 400 Meticos (less than 10 GBP) - the best deal in labour yet ... We turn back down the high street to Taurus for fresh goods and find John and Linda in the parking lot. We’ve not been receiving any of their texts so have no idea they’ve been providing road updates and travel schedules for us along the way and so, once shopped and stocked up on good Glen-foods like steaks and boervors head north 60 km to camp with them at the lovely Hotel Seta in Inhassoro, the nicest campsite yet in Moz and a rival to the best anywhere else we’ve stayed at so far on our travels. With the exception of too many children about (not an issue if everyone is from Natal I am told by a number of holidaying South Africans – only those not from Natal don’t know how to camp without disturbing others, or how to control their children in public ...) we pass a very enjoyable 3 nights at the site, doing little more but journal-updating, greeting those passing by, vehicle maintenance and reading ... Wonderfully relaxing – though not for J&L, who escape the mess of children early and are (sensibly) gone after 2 nights ...
Underway early, with a quick stop at the local bakery for hot-off-the presses buns at 2.5 Meticos a piece we’re off northeast, aiming to get as close to the border as possible for an early run at it for the next day. We rocked up at Chimoio for a solid Shoprite re-supply in the CBD just prior and before 2k’s of rolling road to a surprisingly-decent site complete with crocodile enclosure next to reception and a croc-infested lake to camp beside and electricity but with warm water on one side of the ablutions only – male – and a very friendly staff: Paul soon sorted us out with best location to set up at plus tp, soap and hot water for the loo and dry fire wood for the braii. A very good option on the road to the border (and not sure if there is anything else other really ...).