Kingsley Holgate: explorer, humanitarian, author, and a fellow of the Royal Geographical Society

In case you’re not familiar with the name, Kingsley Holgate is a South African explorer, humanitarian, author, and a fellow of the Royal Geographical Society. In 2009, he was described by Getaway Magazine as “the most travelled man in Africa,” more than a little reminiscent of the iconic David Livingstone.

It was the end of October 2021, and Kingsley was heading out on a new adventure, one of his greatest yet. After 20 months of lockdown, “all adventurers will agree, it’s time to move again,” says Kingsley. And he notes that this expedition has been almost two years in the making.

The New Defender Transcontinental Expedition will start at Africa’s southernmost tip, Cape L’Agulhas, travel to Alexandria, then reach all the way up to the Nordkapp before heading down again and westward across Europe and the United Kingdom to the Welsh coast and the Irish Sea. The journey will cover approximately 30,000 km and 30 countries, including a visit to the New Defender’s manufacturing site in Slovakia, before ending at Red Wharf Bay on the Isle of Anglesey where, in 1947, Maurice Wilks etched the first drawing of a Land Rover in the sand.

As we have all come to appreciate over the years, when Kingsley Holgate climbs into his car to go places, he will be doing something significant along the way. In his own words, “all our expedition have the principle of saving and improving lives through adventure.”

In keeping with this principle, the New Defender Transcontinental Expedition includes projects such as Malaria Prevention, Mashozi’s Rite to Sight, Water Purification, Early Childhood Development, endangered species conservation, and other environmental and humanitarian activities, all of which are covered in more detail on the Foundation’s website kingsleyholgate.com.

COMBATTING MALARIA IN AFRICA

The mosquito is the most dangerous predator in Africa and transmits malaria which kills young children at the rate of one per minute. Kingsley has been influential in building awareness for the problem by lecturing about the risks, teaching prevention, and distributing free mosquito nets to populations living in remote areas.

MASHOZI’S RITE TO SIGHT

The Rite to Sight project was first initiated by Mashozi (Gill) Holgate during the 2003 23°27’ Tropic of Capricorn round-the-world expedition which lasted 18 months. Since then, the Holgate Foundation has distributed more than 218,700 pairs of eyeglasses to mostly elderly people living in remote areas. Venturing into some of the remotest areas, the team set up a gathering point, test the visitors, and fit those who need them with a pair of eyeglasses on the spot.

THE SEND-OFF

The predetermined location for the send-off party was Point L’Agulhas, not only the southernmost tip of Africa, but also where the Indian and Atlantic oceans really meet. There was a good turnout of well-wishers, but of particular significance was the Guard of Honour which was made up of fourteen or fifteen Land Rover Series 1 models—a fitting parade to send off its youngest descendent on what would also be the marque’s first significant expedition since the new Defender’s launch several years prior. Each of the cars that joined the party was given a special Defender Transcontinental Expedition sticker bearing the flags of South Africa, Norway, and England. Kingsley even managed to leave an inscription on several Series 1s.

SEVERAL RITUALS MARK THE BEGINNING OF EVERY KINGSLEY HOLGATE EXPEDITION

FIRSTLY, the Zulu Calabash. Partially charged with water from the combined oceans, it will carry its fill from South Africa to Alexandria and the Mediterranean, then to the Nordkapp and the Barents Sea. At each of these significant waypoints, the contents will be added to so that the combined water can finally be ceremoniously emptied from the calabash into the Irish Sea at Red Wharf Bay.

SECONDLY, the Expedition Scroll of Peace and Goodwill. Each expedition documents the places it visits and the people met along the way in a beautifully bound ledger which is produced especially by Melvill & Moon for each occasion. By the end of the expedition, hundreds of pages will be adorned with anecdotes and signatures. I, too, was able to leave my mark along with so many others during these first few days.

THIRDLY, the Speech or Wisdom Sharing, as I feel is a more appropriate way of describing it. Kingsley Holgate is gifted with the ability to tell meaningful stories and to draw his audience in so close that he catches your gaze and seems to talk to you at a very personal level.

It’s not just the big beard and deep voice that draws people to him, it’s his ability to convey what he has to say with clarity, charm, and a mannerism that leaves the listener yearning for more. Born in Africa to a missionary family, Kingsley was fascinated by the stories his father told him about explorers. Whilst growing up he learned to speak Zulu and understand what it means to live so close to nature and to be at one with Mama Africa.

This occasion was, of course, no different and he told us the story of “The Pebbles of Life.” Seven stones that mark various stages on a person’s journey though life.

PEBBLES OF LIFE Taking seven pebbles from his pocket, he explains that each pebble represents a period of ten summers. Seven pebbles equals seventy years or a span of life we can hope to enjoy so long as we are spared anything too untoward along the way.

Addressing one of the audience, he asks, “how old are you?”—“53,” replies the man.

“Well, I’ll grant you three years as a bonus,” says Kingsley as hse discards five of the pebbles and explains “fifty years are gone. Hopefully you have memories filled with adventures, happiness, and no regrets. But the years are gone and there is no point in trying to relive the past. You just have to focus on what lies ahead.”

“And the seventh pebble joins the five, because there is no guarantee that you’ll be strong or able-bodied enough to enjoy that final decade.”

Taking a brief moment, he looks at the last remaining pebble thoughtfully before placing it in the man’s palm. “Put it in your pocket. It’s going to become quite an inconvenience. It’ll tangle with your keys and get mixed up in loose change. But, at the end of every day, you will retire it to a spot next to your bed and return it to your pocket the following morning. You’ll hold it unconsciously, rub it smooth between your fingers, and accept it as a constant reminder for you to make time for adventure.”

The moral behind the story of the Pebbles of Life: It’s telling us to fell a conscious decision to shed any kind a monotonous and potentially mundane life in favour of getting out to enjoy the awesome adventures life and Mama Africa hold in store.

FOURTHLY, the Isivivane. Independent of the aforementioned story of stones, the Zulu word isivivane translates to throw your stone upon the pile. Whereas today, a monument is designed by an architect and constructed by employed workers, Zulu tradition anticipated each and every person contributing to and respecting something significant by literally throwing a stone upon the pile, thus creating a collective memory for future reference. Isivivane is also a metaphor for change which in itself is a steadfast component of all of Kingsley’s expeditions.

There will be four isivivanes constructed at notable stages of the expedition: Point L’Agulhas, Alexandria, Nordkapp, and Maurice Wilks’ graveside.

FIRST DAYS OF THE EXPEDITION

Having left Point L’Agulhas, I was now travelling with the expedition. Our first stop was a village where we would work on behalf of Mashozi’s Rite to Sight. It is quite remarkable to witness the change a person experiences when suddenly equipped with eye correction glasses. Everything necessary was on board from eyesight test screens—some with the alphabet, others with animals—to frames and lenses so that a needy person could be fitted immediately.

An authentic South African braai

Thereafter, we continued to Kruger National Park where we stayed in traditionally styled huts, had an amazing meal which included a speciality made from beef, garlic and cheese, talked, listened to more stories and, also a Kingsley Holgate tradition, savoured some Captain Morgan rum.

I was parcel to this journey for only a few days, but the experience and having to leave such a charismatic person and his partners proved a moving moment for me. Given the choice, I would have stuck with the Kingsley Holgate Foundation. Not merely for the sake of the journey, but to participate in all the good this handful of people are about to spread amongst numerous communities on its, in parts quite dangerous, path through Africa and Europe.

Keep well.

Text and images: Christian Huntgeburth

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It all started when the two German cities of Solingen and Remscheid joined forces to gain UNESCO World Heritage status for the Müngsten Bridge. At 107 metres, it’s the tallest railway bridge in the country. When it was built, one and a quarter centuries ago, it represented a major feat of engineering for its time and has since become a popular landmark in the region.

However, gaining World Heritage status has proven more difficult than you might expect. So, the two cities joined forces with five other large arch bridges across Europe and submitted a joint application.

When two friends, Timm and Marc, got wind of the plan, they wanted to help by building awareness for the bridges, their importance and historical relevance. And what better way to do it than create a rally that ran from one bridge to the other—from Solingen in Germany to Porto in Portugal, and all the way back again.

The Six Bridges Rally was born.

Italy, Switzerland, France, Spain, Portugal and Germany. Breathtaking landscapes, interesting routes and, of course, spectacular engineering. The rally is open to cars and motorcycles at least 15 years old, whereby classics are preferred in order to give the event added flair as well as slowing the pace down a bit. Yes, this is a rally, but it’s not just about speed. There are tasks each team needs to fulfil en route, and everyone should be able to take in scenery and camaraderie.

If we think about magnificent steel structures, one of the most significant that springs to mind has to be the Eiffel Tower in Paris, which was constructed between 1887 and 1889 as the centrepiece for the 1889 World Fair. As such, it is quite fitting that Gustave Eiffel’s great-great-granddaughter, Madame Myriam Larnaudie-Eiffel, is patron of the Six Bridges Rally, thereby lending it increased notability.

At Overland Journal Europe, we enthusiastically support conservation, humanitarian and historical projects on the mainland and beyond. If participation also includes overlanding to places of interest, meeting like-minded people, and enjoying some local cuisine and wine, then there is even more reason to participate.

Open to vehicles which are at least fifteen years old, the third rally is already planned for 2023, and will take place between the 9th and 24th of September. It’s encouraging to note that the organisers also ensure the event is CO2 neutral—every kilometre driven by each competitor is accounted for. More details and how to apply as a competitor can found on the event’s website: sixbridges-rally.de

We will accompany the 2023 event with one or two classic Land Rovers and Stefan, our intrepid cyclist, will ride the route from Solingen to Porto on a Riese & Müller e-bike.

Follow us for updates as we prepare for what will be a fun event and journey to some special locations across the European mainland…who knows, maybe one or two of you may join us as well:

OVERLAND-EUROPE | Instagram

SIX BRIDGES RALLY

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Sometimes, we outgrow our vehicles and need something larger, more comfortable, or more elaborately equipped. Reasons for change are just as plentiful as the styles and types of vehicle that can support our lifestyle. But how do we really know if we’re making the right choice? After all, this can be one of the biggest investments we make, so we need to be as sure as we can before parting with our hard earned savings.

One type of vehicle that has seen exponential growth in popularity in recent years is the van. Choosing a van brings with it the benefits of more living/work space, and the option of amenities such as a fully equipped bathroom. Larger than an SUV, vans are mostly smaller and more agile than a full-size truck, which is perfect when driving into cities or remote settlements. Available with all-wheel drive, their capabilities beyond the pavement may at first glance appear to be inferior to the smaller 4x4s and bigger trucks, but does that automatically equate to compromise?

Travelling in any style of vehicle entails forethought and planning when it comes to the route we take – we invest our hard earned savings and choose to live in our vehicles so that we can visit exciting destinations and either continue on to the next, or return home before preparing for a future adventure. Therefor, its reasonable to assume we should be looking after our investment as best we can. Choose routes suited to the vehicle and if the obstacles become too severe, then look for an alternative. Land Rovers and Toyotas also have their limitations, but we wouldn’t deliberately put them into situations that would jeopardise the continuance of the trip. Horses for courses.

In this article, Peter Bauza takes us on a journey that would ultimately help him fell decisions regarding how he can satisfy his personal and occupational requirements whilst overlanding. Having travelled extensively with his Toyota, Peter realised moving into a bigger vehicle would not only improve his comfort but also his workflow. The more he looked at his options, the more he realised his questions outnumbered his answers.

TIME FOR CHANGE

The Toyota has been sold, money is in the bank, what now? On tour with a 4×4 Sprinter from AllRoad Reisemobile.

Maybe you have been in a similar situation when your heart says “I want to travel now”, but you’re lacking the right set of wheels. As the number of countries re-opening their borders steadily increases, I really want to start nurturing my travel addiction again. I sold the Toyota a few weeks ago and am now (not so) patiently awaiting delivery of my new 4×4 van—which is due in October. Or maybe it won’t get here until 2022. No-one can really say. The manufacturers and dealers can barely keep up with demand, and deficits in the supply chain haven’t improved since the outbreak of the Corona Pandemic.

To keep me mobile, I decided to go with a long-term 4×4 van rental from AllRoad Reisemobile in Chemnitz, Germany. I wasn’t in a position to pick and choose because I needed the van for four months, and it had to have all-wheel-drive – otherwise camping on a secluded beach or exploring the remote areas in the hills could quickly turn into a tortuous disappointment. Obviously, I’m not going to find my ideal vehicle as a rental. But, renting can certainly provide a lot of insight. You can gain experience in a vehicle similar to one you aspire to and learn if VanLife is really your thing or not, without the inherent fixed costs. If it is, then there’s nothing to stop you taking the next steps to a mobile home you can call your own.

Off we went to Chemnitz. The van was clean and ready to go with a full tank of diesel. This particular 4×4 Sprinter, a Hymer DuoCar, is quite impressive. The 10 cm lift to the bodywork and the A/T tyres, which all come with the all-wheel-drive conversion, certainly lend this truck a purposeful stance. The handover was quick and friendly. All previous damage and the overall condition were meticulously recorded. It’s worth noting that the company offers an all-encompassing carefree package (which I strongly recommend) including the final cleaning and some insurance benefits.

Heavy rain and an intimidating thunderstorm accompanied us on our way back to Munich where we loaded up our gear for the next four months. A thought crossed my mind: Is this really a 3.5-ton truck? If the popular press is anything to go by, you’d struggle to find one which isn’t overladen and that can lead to eye-watering fines in other, less tolerant, countries. A quick hop on the scales at an ADAC centre gave us the peace of mind we hoped for: With all the gear on board and the fuel tank brimming, the needle settled at 3,470 kg.

WE’RE OFF

After a few minor teething problems during the first couple of days and some warranty repairs by Hymer Sulzemoos in Munich, and Mercedes, we finally set off on our journey to Greece. All the necessary tests and registrations for Austria, Italy, and Greece were, of course, completed well in advance. Efficiency is something we Germans are proud of.

The plan was to catch the ferry in Ancona, Italy, in four days. No checks at the Austrian border. None at the Italian either. The satnav squawked, “you are in Italy.” The Sprinter’s V6 190 BHP diesel engine purred at around 2,500 RPM and the speedometer was reading 120 km/h as we began to learn more about our rental van. The sidewind assistant is just as brilliant invention as the adaptive cruise control. In my opinion, the factory suspension setup is a bit too soft causing the truck to sway slightly through the curves. The V6 diesel is quite the beast making spritely overtaking manoeuvres a joy. However, it is thirsty – not really a surprise considering 190 BHP and 3.5 tons. You know the saying: If you can’t stand the heat, get out of the kitchen. Alternatively, wait for an electric wonder.

Having found a nice quiet spot for the evening outside a sports ground near Bolzano, we used the opportunity to visit some friends. Thanks to vaccinations and tests, we could all sit at the same table again.

We continued to Lake Garda where we spent the next two days. It was suddenly much warmer and the temperatures were pushing 38°C. Good reason to find a shady and dog-friendly campsite. Keep your eyes peeled for “Dogs Welcome” sites when you’re travelling with your four-legged companion. The cool water in the lake provided a little respite, and we started to get into the holiday spirit.

The port in Ancona was reached with time to spare. A long queue at the Anek Lines check-in counter tested our patience, but at least they had air-conditioning. Car documents, passports, and vaccinations were checked before we we were given a green light for loading. We’d booked “Camping on Board” which basically means, you’re allowed to sleep in your camper, can hook up to the ship’s electricity supply, and can use the showers. The ferry was soon full of cars, campers and trucks with the experienced crew playing Tetris until we were all parked bumper to bumper. The crossing took seventeen hours.

“No-one checked on my arrival in Igoumenitsa.”—“The Ferry was over-booked.”—“There were queues five kilometres long to get onto the island.”—“They said we should go for PCR testing behind the trucks, but I just drove through.”—“Give me a beer.”—“I bought my camper last year, like everyone else…” That was all anybody could talk about at the small bar on Igoumenitsa’s beach. Those crispy tanned holidaymakers in their big white plastic campers and caravans—they’re a very special type of human being, and it quickly became clear we needed to create as much distance as we could between them and ourselves. After all, that’s why we rented a 4×4.

Feeling great, water tanks full, a mobile solar panel, a compressor, and a well-stocked fridge. So, what’s holding us back? We need time for ourselves, and a place where we certainly won’t miss all the BS. After a few days along the local coast we turned south toward Patras, the so-called gateway to the Peloponnese, with fewer people and even less vehicles. We found beautiful beaches, secluded coves, and crystal-clear warm water. Perfect for a few peaceful days.

According to Susanne and Gerd, “you can stay here, but you need to be on your toes. The police were here on Friday trying to get everyone to move on and dishing out 300-euro fines. We’ve been coming for twenty years, and have always stayed here for several weeks at a stretch along with the Greek families. It was never an issue. The Greeks are clever though, they take the number plates off of their caravans and park their cars elsewhere. Where do the police want to send the fines? But they always try it on with the foreigners.” This couple of pensioners, both well into their 80s, have been practicing VanLife for decades in their faithful old Fiat.

Every year, they take off for months at a time, and have seen and learned a lot. Pensioners without borders: camping wild wherever it takes their fancy and living their dream. Nothing can stop them, not even when there was a gas explosion which literally blew the doors off their camper and ingnited the wiring. They simply repaired everything bit by bit, right here on this beach, in four weeks. “Is it all supposed to be over now? We can’t afford campsites on our pensions. We’d have to stay at home.” Susanne gazed into the distance with a despondent look on her face.

We stayed for three days without any police or other disturbances, just the gentle mooing of the cows and the buzz of mosquitoes in the evening. Unfortunately, the fly screen in the door gave up. An immediate solution couldn’t be found, but Hymer was informed and they promised a warranty repair upon our return. We improvised, and with some fiddling, it would slide to and fro.

It was time to go further south where the temperature climbed even further. Fortunately, spectacular beaches compensated us at every stop. The temperature rose to 38°C during the day (inside, I measured more the 50°C under the ceiling), there wasn’t the slightest breeze and shade proved itself a scarce commodity. Fortunately, the DuoCar is blessed with a roof-mounted aircon. But it needs to hook up to a power source.

We were really glad we’d brought along some tailor-made UPF 50+ BlidimaX window shades because they contributed a great deal to keeping the interior bearable, something which couldn’t be said for the REMIfront window blinds which weren’t up to the job.

Bustling cities, friendly people, secluded paradisiacal coves, and fascinating history. All of this goes toward making Greece a dream destination for overlanders. Of the thousands of islands just off the coast, little more than a hundred are permanently inhabited. So make sure you bring plenty of time with you. And if you are a fan of culture and ancient history, then the Peloponnese peninsula is perfect for you and your truck. Incredible excavation sites, fortresses, and old cities bear witness to occupation dating back for as much as 4,000 years. Something we weren’t going to miss: Olympia and the Oracle of Delphi. There are plenty of Greeks who aren’t as enthusiastic about these findings as the foreign visitors. Hardly surprising when you consider they run the risk of uncovering Zeus’ or Apollo’s burial site every time they dig in their garden.

Greece has got different styles of places to stay, from modern hotel complexes to campsites. Wild camping is generally forbidden, even more so in the high season. So let’s not be too blatant about it. My home may well be my castle, but I can’t park it outside of a campsite or on the beach in front of a hotel. Subtlety is the name of the game. Travelling smart and camping wild only if the opportunity arises. And if someone does ask us to move on, then that’s what we’ll do—taking our rubbish with us. Filling up with fuel, driving our own trucks, and catering for ourselves, doesn’t help the Greek economy.

Occasionally visiting a hotel-like campsite, such as “Camping Ionion Beach” with its beautiful shoreline, shady pitches, lovely food, friendly staff, and inviting pool, is a great way to take a break from the heat. Contrary to every notion VanLifers may have of wild camping, we made the most of our ability to retreat into our air-conditioned domicile and extended our stay by a few days.

But then the time came to stop being lazy and be on our way again in search of Olympia, the mystical place where, beginning from 776 BC, the summer Olympics of ancient times were held every four years.

Hours of driving along small lonely roads lined with olive, fruit and vegetable plantations. Meandering from one charming village to the next. And then we arrived. Suffering the impact of the Corona crisis, tourism is at the lowest it’s been for ages. Empty or closed shops, restaurants and hotels are a sign of the economic catastrophe. But every cloud has a silver lining, for us at least: We were spared the usual flood of busses carrying tourists from around the world, and could visit the site on our own. Make sure you abide by the drone laws. Despite having suffered earthquakes, this UNESCO heritage site is really impressive. The remains of Zeus’ temple helps us realise how small we are, and how little impact each of us has on the course of history.

While you’re here, don’t forget to visit the museum. You won’t be disappointed. Every year after the rainy season, new relics come to light and are added to the display. As a precautionary measure against fire, the hills around the site are sprayed with water during the driest season.

The heatwave forced us to seek refuge in the highlands. You need to pay attention on those twisty roads. Driving past towns like Stegnisza, the route led us to the fortified monasteries in Prodromous and Philosophou, both of which are still worked by monks. Impressive murals, icons, and mystical corridors will amaze you. You can visit these sacred places as long as you comply to the dress code and refrain from taking photographs. Unfortunately, four-legged companions have to wait outside.

Back to the coast. On the lookout for somewhere to stop, we happened across the so-called hippie beach in Elea. A number of VanLifers told us about warnings and evictions by the local police, but I can’t say what really happened. We stayed in the shady woods for three days and made use of the showers and water supply installed by the non-profit organisation “Friends of the Beach.” A local farmer comes to the site every day and sells home produce such as vegetables, fruit, jams, sauces, and olives. If you have enough energy for a sundowner, you absolutely have to walk to the Beach Bar and chill to reggae music.

Heading even further south, endless twisting roads swept us through beautiful, clean, and almost deserted villages. Occasionally, old men sat at the roadside drinking beer outside a bar.

The journey was quite drawn out in its own right and the temperature, at around 40°C, didn’t improve matters for us. When I say “us” I am referring to our team comprising Chepi, a three-year old female Jack Russel mix, and myself, Peter. It’s amazing how resilient a small dog is, even if she has been panting far more than usual.

An act of spontaneity had us pulling into the family run “Koroni Camping” in the fishing village of the same name. What a spectacular view, regardless of whether from the bar or beside the pool. Clean, modern bathrooms were a welcome surprise. The hours we spent in the tiny alleys in and around Koroni, with fresh fish, cold drinks and stunning sunsets, seemed to disappear in the blink of an eye. It comes as no surprise that a lot of Germans stay here during the winter either in rented or purchased apartments. Thanks to our roof-mounted air-conditioner and the electric hook-up we had ordered, we had the luxury of being able to cool down the truck when we wanted to keep to ourselves.

The Peloponnese peninsula deserves to be circumnavigated. Passing villages, countless olive groves, and mountain ranges with fortress-like houses, we headed towards Mani, a notable region in Greece. Mani is the central of three peninsulas that make up the Peloponnese and draws its name from a fortress close to Mezapos, also known as Mani, Maina or le Magne. In 1250, Wilhelm II, prince of Franconia, tried to defend his realm here. The steep and craggy mountains stretch majestically skyward.

More narrow and winding roads cut through the Taygetos foothills under unimaginable summer temperatures which cause the air to shimmer. There is a lot to see here and it’s definitely worth taking the time to explore. Centuries of conflict between the Maniotes and the Ottoman occupiers shaped Mani both culturally and architecturally.

In some places, such as Vathia with its narrow cobblestone streets, abandoned residential towers with embrasures loom over the surrounding buildings. Only a few families live all year round in these otherwise deserted villages. A short break in a beautiful small fishing cove is the perfect invitation to stay overnight, but a friendly piece of advice from a boat owner about police patrols every evening, was enough for us to see reason and move on.

Night slowly started to close in and the mountain roads were less than hospitable with no obvious place for us to stop. The villages are so tight that even the locals struggle to find parking spots. It was dark by the time we arrived in a cove with nice castle-like hotels and small restaurants. We finally came to rest on the shore next to a luxury yacht lying at anchor. We didn’t even notice the roaming dogs and wild boar that came to visit during the night.

A voice over my shoulder said, “excuse me, here’s your €1.50 change.” Maria at the Glyfada beach restaurant had miscalculated. That was honest. Approximately ten kilometres east of Gythio, there’s a nice beach where the wrecked Dimitrios lies. Wild camping (albeit without any shade) is tolerated here, and if you need a cool shower or the toilets, you can use the facilities in the bar/restaurant during opening times. But please, stay for a cup of coffee or have an inexpensive meal as a token of your gratitude. We all want to come back again and benefit from their generosity.

Temperatures during the day settle at around 40°C. The nights aren’t noticeably cooler. There was news of the first forest fires. We met some of the local fire brigade along with some Australian firefighters, and their advice was to head north because the fires were likely to paralyse the region within the next few days.

We didn’t need to be told twice and drove to the northwest via Korinth to take in the famous Meteora monasteries. It was a three-day journey past many attractive spots, including Mistrá, aka Mystras, not far from Sparta, another UNESCO site. We made a further obligatory stopover here.

Make sure you have enough time on your hands because these dramatic and historical Byzantine ruins were once built by the war-weary Spartans at the 300-metre-high foot of the Taygetos mountains. During their heyday, 20,000 people lived in the divided city behind intact fortress walls. Today, the well-preserved buildings and monasteries are open to tourists. Cobbled and twisting lanes led us past palaces, churches, monumental gates, and medieval houses. Paintings, and sculptures adorn the monasteries and palaces. Time seems to have stood still here. The impregnable fortress on the mountain, built in 1249 by Frank Guillaume II de Villehardouin, the fourth Frankish prince of Morea (former name of the Peloponnese), affords an impressive view of the Evrotas valley and Sparta. From here, Guillaume II controlled the region of Laconia, protecting it from marauding Slavs.

We finally reached the Corinth Canal in the sweltering midday heat. Originally dreamt up by the Greeks 2,600 years ago to support their conquests and trade, it took until the 19th century—just like Suez and Panama—before it was actually completed. At 6.3 kilometres in length and 24 metres wide, it connects the Corinthian and Saronic gulfs and saves ships a 400-kilometre journey. All of its bridges and much of its steep walls were destroyed during the Second World War. Reconstruction began in the 40s, and it was put back into service in 1948. Several ships pass through here daily.

Time to fill up with fuel before embarking on the long stretch to the north. We should take this opportunity to mention the diesel prices. Filling up in Europe is inexpensive. At the time, the average price was around €1.35 per litre.

Perched atop natural sandstone columns, the mystical Meteora monasteries reach skyward. They, too, belong to the many UNESCO world heritage sites in Greece and lie to the east of the Pindos mountains in Thessaly, near to the city of Kalambaka. Meteora translates to “floating on air.” Quite appropriate because when the clouds are low or there is thick haze, they really do look as if they are floating. Twenty four individual monasteries and hermitages were built on the bizarre stone formations from the 14th century onwards. Only six are still occupied by monks or nuns today and remain open to the public. The remainder are closed, either because they are virtually impossible to reach, or in danger of collapsing. Real natural wonders.

Nature enthusiasts, active holidaymakers and photographers will all be in their element here as well. Plenty of hiking trails lead through impressive scenery. The rocks, upon which the monasteries stand, are one of Greece’s most popular attractions for mountaineers from around the world.

Eventually, forest fires and the extreme temperatures forced us to leave Greece. We are saving the north, the Vikos Gorge, Athens, and the third peninsula for our next visit. With the fires and heat behind us, we sought new places to explore in Italy, France and Spain. But that’s another story.

IN RETROSPECT

The time we spent in Greece passed far too quickly, and looking back, we realised we’ve only seen a few of the highlights. Another trip into the region is on the cards, but seeing as we prefer to avoid the high temperatures, we’ll probably come back in March/June or September/October.

HOW ABOUT THE DREAM OF VANLIFE?

There is magic in every beginning (Hermann Hesse). The same applies to us. Returning home after four months isn’t easy. Cooped up inside our own four walls in the big city, it’s almost as if we can’t breathe—as if someone has strapped us into a tight corset. Out on the road, every day unfolds a new adventure. And if you follow a few basic rules, travelling becomes an addiction: independent, exhilliarating, with manageable costs. Maybe one day you’ll become a full-time VanLifer, too.

AND THE 4X4 SPRINTER HYMER DUOCAR?

After a thorough clean we reluctantly returned the DuoCar to AllRoad Reisemobile. Another benefit: we don’t have to worry about winter storage. There was a lot to like about the DuoCar: its spacious interior, the large kitchen block and generous work surface, and the lounge feeling on the leather couch are just a few of the highlights. Having to convert the couch into a huge bed every night was less attractive. We missed windows that can be left ajar, skylights, an awning (which would have made life more bearable in the heat), more cupboards (a trade-off against the lounge feeling), and bigger batteries with solar panels on the roof. Fortunately, AllRoad Reisemobile had sent us on our way with a folding solar panel and a voltage converter, which improved our autonomy and meant we could still park in the shade.

But it was the combination of all-wheel drive and low ratios—for those tricky moments—and the powerful three-litre engine with its automatic gearbox that made the Sprinter really useful. The four-wheel drive saved the day on more than one occasion. Hymer’s DuoCar is, and always will be, a fun travelling van which can take you off the beaten track.

PERSONAL NOTES

We learned a lot about what a future van must have, and all the clothes and “just-in-case” things we really didn’t need to take along. Six metres are six metres. The ideal length if you want to drive into towns and villages or along twisty mountain roads where room to manoeuvre can be restricted. Six metres and an inconspicuous colour also meant we could park overnight beside the road without sticking out like a sore thumb.

Editor’s note: AllRoad Reisemobile have since converted a Sprinter according to their own specifications. We look forward to testing the promising and autonomous 4×4 Atacama soon.

This article first appeared in the Autumn 2021 issue of Overland Journal now available as a digital magazine on the Apple App Store and Google Play Store.

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He succeeded – despite the fact that this year’s race was one of the most demanding in recent memory.

“This new and exciting experience at the Dakar 2021 was for me both a blast from the past and a totally new experience: new location, new bike and new equipment including an airbag vest, which was mandatory for the first time this year.

Looking for the perfect airbag system, I got in contact with KLIM. Having experienced the quality of their technical equipment first-hand, I decided to ride in KLIM gear head to toe, including the airbag vest, of course.

Fortunately, I wasn’t involved in any serious accidents this year. But apparently the mandatory airbag averted far more serious consequences for those less fortunate than me. In fact, there were many crashes, so any progress in terms of security in our sport is very welcome.

After 35 years of off-road rallying and traveling in the desert, I am really happy with my choice. The KLIM equipment provided me with both a high level of safety and adequate comfort, even in extreme conditions, such as during the hours of extreme heat in the middle of the day or the freezing transfers at sunrise.”

BIOGRAPHY

Born on October 4^th, 1955, in Vicenza, Franco Picco’s racing career began in motocross. He won the Italian 250cc Junior Championship in 1976 and the Italian 500cc Championship in 1978. His debut in African racing happened almost by chance in 1985. At that time he was an official Yamaha Motocross rider who decided to participate in the “Dakar” to improve his riding skills in the sand. Right from the beginning Franco surprised everyone and led the race for many stages to finish in third place overall. Consequently, Yamaha decided that his future as a factory rider would be in off-road rallying, and he kept that status until 1990.

In addition to numerous top finishes in the Rally Dakar, Franco also scored two victories at the Rally des Pharaons.

HIGHLIGHTS AT DAKAR

2021: 43^rd – Husqvarna – Saudi Arabia
2010: 23^rd (Marathon class winner) –
          Yamaha WR450F – Buenos Aires / Buenos Aires
2002: 48^th – by car – Arras Madrid Dakar
2000: 36^th – by car – Paris Dakar Cairo
1990: 5^th – Yamaha – Paris Dakar (1 stage won)
1989: 2^nd – Yamaha – Paris Dakar (1 stage won)
1988: 2^nd – Yamaha – Paris Dakar (2 stages won)
1987: 4^th – Yamaha – Paris Dakar (2 stages won)
1986: 10^th – Yamaha – Paris Dakar (4 stages won)
1985: 3^rd – Yamaha – Paris Dakar

OTHER WINS

1992: Winner of the Rally des Pharaons on Gilera
1991: Winner of the Transpaña on Suzuki
1986: Winner of the Rally des Pharaons on Yamaha

KLIM.COM

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This is the last blog for the time being. It has been a long time coming because I have had to postpone the last two-thirds of the expedition until the COVID-19 virus is under control.

DAYS 13 & 14 | LA PAZ

One of the best things Chris and I did in La Paz was take a ride on the amazing public cable car transport system. It has only been up and running for about two years, but what a fantastic way to get to work – beats the tram, bus and underground systems around the world! The steep, narrow, cobbled streets are very congested with traffic and the cable car system is designed to reduce the number of cars and small taxi busses on the roads. The flip side is that when the cable cars were introduced, many taxi drivers were out of a job because the transition to the new system happened too fast.

For the rest of the time, Chris, myself and our new driver, Rolando, organised ourselves for the next stage of the journey, a loop into the rainforest through the South Yungas.

DAYS 15 | LA PAZ – CORIOCO | DISTANCE 108 KM | PASS 4769 M

I rejoined the line of my journey, setting off along the airport road. It was great to be back on the road again, feeling rested from the two-day break. The traffic in the outer suburbs of La Paz was still very hectic and the air horribly polluted, but I just had to ride assertively with the flow. 

I decided to take a slightly different course out of town than the usual way to Corioco. Once free of the sprawling city limits, the route proved to be a good choice. Cars were few and far between and I was able to enjoy the high, undulating landscape. After crossing a valley,  the road, which was under construction, started to ascend sharply. There were several places where small landslides had blocked or partially blocked the road. It was easy for me to carry my bike over the mud but at one stage, Rolando had to pull the shovel out and dig a path for his vehicle.

The pass was concealed in the clouds at 4769m. It was cold, rainy and the air was very low on oxygen. From there I descended about 150m to the busy Coroico – La Paz road. The road is the main artery dropping away from the Altiplano and into the rainforest. Over the next 30km, I lost 1400m of elevation. Initially, the road and mountains were totally encased in cloud. It was a virtual white-out and I switched my powerful bike headlight on for improved visibility. Rolando drove behind to give me some protection from the heavy traffic. I kept intense concentration to maintain control of my bike in the slippery conditions. Breaking through the mist, the breathtaking scale of the valley and mountains was revealed. I gradually thawed out as I descended into tropical climes. 

The main objective for the day was to cycle down Death Road. Prior to 2006, the La Paz – Coroico Road was dubbed the World’s Most Dangerous Road. It is a single-lane stoney, muddy road, that, at times is only about three metres wide. It winds its way from the 4650m Le Cumbre pass (I cycled higher on the first road I followed that morning, before it hit the Coroico Road at the pass) down to the Amazon rainforest. The North Yungas Road, as is its correct name, is cut into a deep canyon with vertical drops of about 600 metres and no side barriers. Normally in Bolivia, drivers and cyclists keep to the right-hand side of the road, but down Death Road, they must stay left, near to the edge of the cliff and give way to vehicles ascending the road.

The road was built in the 1930s by Paraguayan prisoners during the Chaco War. Until the 1990s, the road had the most dubious title of the world’s most dangerous road due to the mortality rate. It was estimated that between 200 and 300 people died each year on the road. At the end of 2006, after 20 years of construction, a new bypass road was opened. 

These days, Death Road is mostly used as a tourist attraction, especially for cyclists. The very name made me feel wary, but I was intent on enjoying the experience. There isn’t anything like the traffic that there once was and for much of the time I was able to have the road to myself. As far as I am concerned, with a good set of brakes and common sense, cycling the road is an attainable dream for an average cyclist.

In many places, waterfalls shower the path, and anyone who rides or drives it. The vibrant green tropical flora was so different from on the Altiplano – ferns, vines, tall trees and dense ground cover. Colourful butterflies and majestic birds of prey often arrested my attention. The road descended 1100m over about 30km.

I had done 98km by 6.20pm when I reached a village at the base of the climb. The aim for the day was to make Corioco, an important trading town for the surrounding coffee and coca growers. The town, however, lay on the top of a steep hill, a 9km climb from the bottom of the valley. I knew this would mean I would arrive in the dark but wanted to see if I could reach the destination. The first 4.5km was on a quality paved road, but just as darkness set in, I hit the cobblestones. This was a massive test – the last 4.5km on uneven cobblestones up a steep incline, riding by the vehicle headlights. The road was pretty busy and I struggled to keep the bike on the road and the pedals turning. I made it by about 8pm.

DAYS 16 | CORIOCO – CHULUMANI | DISTANCE 63 KM

From Coroico, the road tracked the contours of the slope of the Yungas. It was generally up for 300m, then down for 300m, dipping in and out of the spectacular valleys. It was serious work, however, as I was now oscillating between 1100m and 2000m, I found it much easier to breathe and lactic acid didn’t build up in my legs as it had at the higher altitudes. I did suffer from the 90 per cent humidity though.

After our lunch break at the village of Coscoma, my Maps.ME app suggested that the fastest route was a secondary road. There was a very steep descent to a fast-flowing river but the climb that followed, about 10km that was mostly steeper than I could handle. The humidity took its toll and the black loose stones radiated more heat. I started to suffer from heat stress. I must have pushed 80 per cent of the way. I had to stop several times to cool down and take in rehydration salts.

The views were incredible. The locals used even the steepest slopes for production. Whereas I expected to see coffee being grown, as was traditionally the case, these days just about all small producers grow coca leaves for medicinal purposes, as a stimulant and for the black market. Apparently coca leaves are more lucrative than coffee.

Eventually, at a village at the top of the climb, the secondary road connected with the main road and the surface stayed reasonably level for a few kilometres. There were so many mud traps and I often found myself pedalling through a muddy soup. The bike and I were a mess. 

We ended up at Chulumani village amidst the town’s annual fair. The main square was packed with people, stalls and a traffic jam. We had difficulty finding a place to stay and there was really only fried chicken to eat for dinner, but that is often the case when travelling freely.

DAYS 17 | CHULUMANI – IRUPANA | DISTANCE 30 KM

The morning ride to Irupana was as spectacular as it comes; a muddy 5km downhill, then the same distance uphill. This route rivalled Death Road at times, it was just a bit wider and busier. I was still feeling the results of the heat stress from the previous day, so I struggled slowly at times. Irupana lies at 1900m and getting there involved another 800m climb.

Resting in the village square, the reality of the global situation regarding the COVID-19 virus struck. Argentina and Chile had closed their borders and schools were closed, so there was no way I could achieve the objectives of my journey. I found my own motivation waning because I need to work to the goals that I believe in, in order to put all of my energy into it. I was struggling mentally on this day. Chris and I reasoned the situation through. With a third of the journey completed, I decided to halt the expedition while we could easily return to La Paz.

On the five hour drive back to La Paz, we heard that Qantas was grounding its fleet and most of South America had closed its borders. Just about every hour, there was a new regulation or another restriction imposed. My travel agent, had great difficulties trying to book our return flights. By that night we had a flight reserved on the 20th. We were working to that until the Bolivian government changed the date of its airport closure from the 21st to the 19th March.

DAYS 18, 19 & 20

It has been a stressful time trying to find a way home to Australia. A curfew in La Paz was introduced yesterday between 5pm and 5am. Rolando, our driver, waited in La Paz in case we needed his help – and we certainly did. In desperation, Rolando drove us to the airport to see if we could find a flight out. The normally chaotic streets were eerily empty. There were police and military everywhere and we were afraid we would be arrested for breaking the curfew. Even the stray dogs looked baffled as to where all the traffic had gone!

A policewoman questioned us and Rolando explained that we were from the Australian consulate, heading for the airport. She let us go and Rolando did not stop for anything between there and the airport – running every red light and manoeuvring around and through barriers. 

The airport visit was fruitless, though I was able to apply for two positions on a special chartered flight to Sao Paulo in Brazil the next day. We returned to the hotel on an equally tension-filled drive. We missed the chartered flight opportunity due to high demand and felt almost resigned that we would be trapped in La Paz once the airport closed.

Our travel agent got to work once more. The only country in South America still open was Brazil, so we had to try to go through Sao Paulo. It was after midnight when an opportunity opened and Colin was able to book us both on the flights. At 3am, Rolando drove us back to the airport. We weren’t stopped this time, but were equally nervous that we could be. This time we were able to board our flight and as I write are on our way back via Santa Cruz, Sao Paulo and Dubai to Melbourne, a trip of more than 50 hours.

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Take these ingredients, add a healthy portion of adventure motorcycling and you have a near perfect recipe for an exhilarating overland experience. I deliberately say near perfect because unless you have plenty of time to invest or are a local resident with intimate knowledge of where to go to satisfy your whims, you’re confronted with a lot of planning. Destinations, off-pavement routes, regulations and restrictions, accommodation, do you want to ride to Greece or find a fly-and-ride solution, what about service if something should go wrong with the bike, and how about being able to communicate with locals in villages away from the metropoles. Putting it simply, an experienced guide can fast track you to a fulfilled experience and help you determine how much of the effort you want to invest yourself and how much you can leave up to someone else to ensure you don’t leave the country with a nagging feeling you may have missed something.

Greece is at the bottom right of Europe, making it a long and time consuming trek for a large portion of the European population. From the Cathedral in Cologne to the Acropolis in Athens, we’re talking 2,623 km. The country covers just over 19,000 square kilometres. Its length from North to South is just under 700 km and its width approximately 550 km. And then there is the unique phenomenon accounting for 6,000 small islands scattered through the Aegean and Ionian seas—only 227 are actually populated, but the sheer abundance adds to the variety of culture and spice of life this tradition-driven country can offer.

The Baltoyannis brothers, Angelo and Paris, naturally inherited a passion for architecture from their father George, who has dedicated more than 30 years to researching the relationship between ancient architecture and ancient religion. A pursuance that has led not only to five bestseller books, but, since the 90’s, has paved the way for his sons to share his intrigue for architecture and its influence on society. Angelo followed in his father’s footsteps to study architecture at the Sapienza University in Rome; and Paris graduated and became a landscape architect following his studies at the Technological Educational Institute of Epirus in Greece.

Angelo and Paris first started riding motorcycles 20 and 15 years ago respectively, with a shared passion for off-road and adventure. They are experienced international travellers, have good competition experience and, through their work with their father, have been creating tour routes with a twist: routes that are challenging, beautifully situated and provide insight into some of the world’s oldest culture and architecture—a Greek Monument Valley, if you like. So, it isn’t surprising that together they decided to turn their experience and passion into a new business in 2017, under the brand name Mythical Routes, providing a unique adventure experience package for motorcyclists.

Speaking with Angelo, he informed me there are already six different adventures to choose from. Ranging from 150 to 600 km, graded from “easy” to “intermediate”, and taking in some stunning destinations, the choice is yours. But the service they provide will also include bike rental (from the end of Spring 2018) for those who prefer to fly, GPS waypoint downloads, accommodation en route, and they even provide a recommended guide for what to pack. Another item within their expertise is off-road training and this will be included during 2018 as well.

Their intimate knowledge of all the routes they have pulled together means that they do have by-pass routes if some of the terrain should become too technical for novice riders. This way, if a husband and wife team should have different riding abilities, they will still be able to share the same views and cultural experience. Interestingly, the combination of being able to fly in, rent a bike, undertake qualified training and partake in guided tours or go off on your own amongst stunning landscapes is a great way to use available time to brush up on your riding skills before putting them into practice under real conditions.

And then there’s the traditional culinary and wine experience to enjoy as the sun sets.

mythicalroutes.com

This article originally appeared in the Winter 2017 issue of Overland Journal Europe.

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The original plan was to ride from New York to California and back, but wandering can be an enchanting business. Eighteen months later, still under the spell, I put two feet down in Panama. After clearing Guatemalan mud pits, Salvadoran police escorts, and a Nicaraguan election campaign, I pushed onward to South America.

The Pan-American Highway that runs the length of North and South America had been my main route through Central America, but it breaks at a village called Yaviza in Panama, leaving a 62-mile swath of jungle and swampland with no major access before it picks up again in Turbo, Colombia. This unpaved stretch between continents is the famed Darién Gap, and was at the time fertile ground for disappearances, robberies, and other nefarious deeds.

Instead of tempting fate, I followed the Panama Canal to its east side where it spits out into the Caribbean Sea at the crumbling, colonial port town of Colón. In it was the Panama Canal Yacht Club, a green and white cinderblock building with a Chinese restaurant attached, where sailboats were said to sometimes ferry skinny dual-sport bikes across the Caribbean to Cartagena, Colombia. But my meaty low-slung cruiser was rejected by every sailor readying to cross. “Too much of a liability,” they said.

The search for a ride was eating time, and desperation landed me at Dock #3—a short, off-kilter slab of cement and the base for Colón’s “less official” maritime business. There was a reclaimed Colombian fishing boat: named the Don José, with rust spots smeared down its side and green tarps pulled over the main deck that was taking a load of goods from Panama’s Zona Libre (its massive duty-free zone) back to Colombia. Its owner was fat, dressed head to toe in designer knockoffs, and open to new cashflow ideas.

He’d gotten wise to the coconut oil boom early on, and explained in Spanish I sort of understood that in addition to his duty-free hustle, he planned to spend seven days at sea buying a haul of coconuts from a network of island gatherers.

I paid him $300 cash, met the 10-man crew at a crowded casino/discotheque on a Thursday night, and on Friday we sailed. We motored around the islands of the San Blas Archipelago, a cluster of white sand dots in the Caribbean, to buy coconuts from the indigenous Kuna people. The women there paraded toward us in patterned, primary-colored molas with ornate headbands and beaded jewelry around their wrists, ankles, and necks, carrying burlap sacks full of coconuts. The crew counted their stocks out one by one, and the captain paid them 10 cents for each coconut: I watched him hand over $2.40, $6.80, $1.70, and so on. It was a slow, steady labor.

On the boat, the men were listless at first, but after 48 hours the boredom of the sea turned the tide to my favor, and they warmed to small amusements. A wooden door was dragged out and turned into a card table. They’d bait a line (no pole) and let me fish with the cook for our dinner. (The side dishes were invariably coconut-seasoned.) They taught me how to make a toy sailboat out of a coconut and gave me a lecture about sharks when I jumped off the side of the docked boat. I trusted them.

They were also doing good business. They’d collected 80,000 coconuts which filled the main deck, burying the motorcycle and other cargo they’d picked up in Panama.

We made it to the Colombian coast at dawn on a Friday morning after the promised seven days at sea. It’s rare that the magnitude of a situation in the moment it’s happening feels as big as it will later (after retold and ballooned by nostalgia), but the sight of a new continent after a true voyage pulled at some buried emotion inherited from ancestral explorers. I crouched on top of the coconuts in a wet, salty sleeping bag and marveled at the Colombian shoreline. It was a moment of pure magic that etched itself into my permanent memory. Even more so because of the next words I heard uttered by a crew member: “This is your stop.”

It didn’t make sense. All that was visible ashore was jungle and beach—no town, no dock. But in a matter of minutes there was a tiny, prop-engine boat next to ours. They used the ship’s pulley system to harness the bike and lower it over the side into this new baby boat, then tossed my bags over, held me by the wrists, and dropped me into the craft with two new Colombians.

They motored me to a deserted swatch of beach—as in, on the sand—that belonged to a country famed for its guerilla warfare. I didn’t know where I was and had no form of communication, passport stamp, or customs papers. The adventure equation seemed absent of exhilaration, and the scales tipped toward panic and fear.

Somewhere in the island-going fun, I’d lost track of the fact that I was running with a band of (harmless) Colombian contrabandistas. This was not a passenger ship; my foreign motorcycle and yours truly were just as much a part of the contraband as anything else.

But travel mercies are a gracious friend to youthful naïvete. There was a foot trail into the jungle, smoke rising from somewhere beyond the first line of trees, and enough dead palm fronds to make a path through the sand. Further down was a Colombian village, whose residents would be surprised to see one blonde girl and one beastly motorcycle, having just ridden straight from the sea at 7:45 in the morning. They pointed me in the right direction and the adventure equation balanced.

This article was first published in the Summer 2016 editino of Overland Journal Europe. Words and image: Tracy Motz.

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