Firstly a warm welcome to my travel blog. This will, on the whole, be my main means of communication with the outside world for the coming two years - a scary thought but given the nature of Africa it will have to suffice. Whilst I cannot promise regular updates, due to the lack of internet the deeper into Africa one ventures, I will post as often as I can throughout my trip.

Now to the trip itself. The plan is to travel from my current address, in Cape Town, to my parent's house in Wales on one continuous trip, working my way through Africa and Europe using only public transport. I realise some readers may be scratching their head's with bewilderment as to why someone would want to do that. Don't worry, you are in good company, as there have been, and will be again, times when I have thought 'what the hell am I getting myself into?'

So let me explain. For a while I have been thinking of leaving Cape Town (not permanently) and heading off on an adventure, and then I thought to myself if you are going to do it, at least do it properly, thus 'Cape to Cardiff' was born. The initial idea came whilst in Malawi last year, but since then has been developed to it's current state - one which I am happy with in terms of safety and well-being.

The route, which will need to be flexible if I am to complete the trip in the guidelines set out, provisionally looks a little like this: South Africa, Swaziland, Mozambique, Zambia, Malawi, Tanzania, Zanzibar, Kenya, Uganda, Ethiopia, Sudan, Egypt, Libya, Tunisia, Algeria, Mali, Senegal, Mauritania, Western Sahara, Morocco, Spain, France, England, Wales.

Whilst such a trip will be an almighty challenge, it will be one that I must embrace head on if I am to complete it. There will be dangers along the way, as one would expect, but they will, along with everything else, develop me as a person and enrich this trip.

It is my hope to experience as many different cultures as possible on my journey, as to really travel in a country I firmly believe one must submerge themselves in that countries culture. In doing so I hope to discover myself on this trip, as well as discover the true beauty of Africa, a continent that has truly got under my skin.

For now that's all. But below you will find a map of Africa that charts the route I plan to take through 'The Dark Continent'. There is still a few months to go, so if anyone has any tips or advice for this epic trip please don't hesitate to contact me.

And finally, a reminder that this will be used by my friends and family alike, so if you are commenting please keep it clean. And if you can't keep it clean, mail me at marcus_leach@hotmail.com

My travel map and route

Sun rise at Devils Peak

One excerpt that caught my attention was by Scott Kennedy, a travel writer for Lonely Planet, who was reminiscing about the stage in his life when his eyes were opened to the endless opportunities for adventure. The crux of what he was saying being this: it doesn’t matter who you are, where you are or what you have, the only obstacles preventing us from a world of endless adventure are those created in our minds.

If I am being honest I have, in the past, created obstacles for myself – as I am sure most of us have – that have stopped me from discovering my limits, stopped me from going out to the edge and seeing how far I can push myself. I would be lying, so close to the trip, if I said some of those old demons hadn’t returned to test me. The difference being, this time I am ready to overcome them, there is a burning desire deep inside of me to take this challenge on and triumph.

Devils Peak from Lions Head

Waking up, naturally, at 05:30 is not so bad, as long as it is a once off. However, five days in a row, including the weekend, and you start to wonder if this is the early stages of insomnia developing. But then, as sleep gives way to the realisation that life is about to change, maybe forever, you forget about the tiredness and being awake at unsociable hours and instead try and focus on what needs to be done to ensure the adventure takes place as planned.

Table Mountain from Lions Head

Suddenly there is so much I want to do, and juggling doing all those things with preparing for such a major trip can be a balancing act at times. Although with the early rising comes the chance to see Cape Town in all its beauty, sunrise on a peaceful Sunday morning – not everyone’s idea of fun but a chance to create a few more memories here, before the next chapter begins...

written by  MarcusInAfrica on February 18, 2009 from Cape Town, South Africa
from the travel blog: Cape to Cardiff
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One last sunset before I leave

Mr Messy and Mr I Don't Do Running!

However, once on the road I wanted to be anywhere but there. The opening leg of my journey was a 12-hour Baz Bus journey from Cape Town to Storms River, which was spent going through the emotional mill once again, only this time knowing I was truly on my own. It seems weird, but for so long I have wanted to do this trip alone, yet all I craved today was the company of a familiar face, the touch of a familiar hand and the reassurance of a warm smile. Instead I armed myself with Hunter S Thompson's Hell's Angels and tried to loose myself in a world a million Miles from mine.

An emotional traveller setting off

Suffice to say when I got to Dijemba Backpackers in Storms River I was ready for a cold beer by the open fire, the place I feel most at home. There is something about a camp fire that is magical, watching the flames flickering in the gentle breeze as my worries slowly eased away. I was prepared for a few rough days, so whilst feeling relaxed I expected a few more emotional swings until I finally settle into my new life.

written by  MarcusInAfrica on March 2, 2009 from Cape Town, South Africa
from the travel blog: Cape to Cardiff
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Bloukrans Bridge

Does what it says on the sign!

5, 4, 3, 2, 1....Bungeeeeeeee. Oh my god, where did my stomach just go? No time to worry about that. Air rushing past, my stomach trying to find its anatomical place, failing as I continue falling. Suddenly panic, surely it's been more than four seconds. The ground is getting closer, and I am getting faster. Why am I still falling? And then the bungee kicks in. With a feeling of security, as much as one can feel secure tied by your feet, upside down to a giant piece of elastic, I was rushing upwards. And then...the most perfect moment of my life. Eyes closed, arms stretched wide, falling in silence. The initial shock gone, replaced by a supreme sense of freedom. No worries, nothing matters, just this exact moment in time.

Jump number and weight

A good luck handshake with the jump master

Strapped and ready to go

This is living life jumping off the edge!

Fear hits as I begin to fall

Deeper I go

I'm geting closer to the bottom now

I can fllllllllyyyyy

Approaching speeds of 120km per hour

And a distance of nearly 200 metres

Back on the bridge and alive

Me and my jump master

Back on the bridge the dance music is pumping, blood is coursing through my body, and I have never felt so energised in my life. It sounds strange but you lose partial control of your limbs as the adrenalin sends you into a state of frenzied movement. My brain was moving faster than my mouth as I tried to recant what had just happened, all the time tapping out the beat of the music with my feet. I try sitting down, but within seconds I'm up and positively bouncing around. There is only one thing for it, I have to jump again - only this time backwards!

If shuffling towards the edge of a 216 metre bridge when you can see the drop is bad enough, try doing it backwards, with just the voice of the jump master to guide you. Not only that but you have to have the back of your feet off the edge slightly. With each tentative step back my heart pounded harder, my sense heightened and my nerves took over. The exact words I used, with millimetres to the edge, starring back at everyone on the brdige, were, 'This is farking shit scary guys!' And it was genuine fear, pure fear, the sort that doesn't come along often in life.

5, 4, 3, 2, 1....Bungeeeeeeee. Silence. My mouth catches my stomach this time, eyes fixed on the faces above. Smaller and smaller they get until that rare sense of freedom washes over me again and I zone out. Eyes closed as I relax into it, a thoughtless perfection I will chase for the rest of my life. To live in that state, even for just one hour a day, is my idea of heaven. This is pure escapism, this is life. All I need to do now is bottle it and I am set!

Jump two coming up

Back for more...are you mad?

No turning back now

Going down, down, down

Better to look up than down

Free as a bird

That's me, along way down

Oh F**k!

Myself and Elliot after the jumps

Until today my motto in life had been, 'Why live on the edge when you can jump off it'. However, it's now, 'Why live on the edge you can jump off it...twice'. It has taken me twenty-five years to begin living, and I don't intend on stopping anytime soon.

written by  MarcusInAfrica on March 4, 2009 from Port Elizabeth, South Africa
from the travel blog: Cape to Cardiff
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My time at Buccaneers was spent relaxing and taking long strolls along the beach and just reconnecting with myself in general, and all at my old companies expense - their leaving present was two days and nights all paid for at Buccs. Had it not been for the lure of some live sport, and a spot of Aussie baiting, I would have happily bypassed Durban, but as it was it was a worthwhile stop - not least because I got to see Tristan, who was working at the cricket.

Walking On Cintsa Beach

The Sands Of Time

Up In The Air: Kite Surfers On Cintsa Beach

Test Match Cricket In Durban

Having done what I wanted to do in Durban I began to get a little restless, not to mention depressed, about being in another South African city that wasn't Cape Town. I felt like I was in limbo, here I was away from all that I knew, yet so much of it was not new and thus left me feeling neither here nor there. With that in mind I opted to push on for Maputo the following day in a hope that once out of South Africa I would really feel like I was travelling, instead of craving being back in Cape Town.

The details of Maputo will follow, but needless to say the change of environment - for one where everything is new and exciting - has helped lift my spirits and let me focus on the road ahead rather that what has been left behind. There are still moments where I miss Cape Town and people there, but this is the path I have chosen and it is one, with a little bit of luck, that will change my life forever. I can, however, safely say, wherever my chosen path leads me it will not change the fact my heart lies in Cape Town, and one day I will be back there - maybe even for good.

written by  MarcusInAfrica on March 12, 2009 from Durban, South Africa
from the travel blog: Cape to Cardiff
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The View From The Base

The crossing into Swaziland will be, I should imagine, the easiest of all my border crossings over the coming year, and was certainly so compared to the crossing into Mozambique. Having been warned that border officials are unlike the rest of the human race - they seem to have had the section of their brain removed that allows us to smile and laugh - I knew I would have to be all smiles and the example of politeness.

Even that didn't work, although once I flashed the dollars for my visa they soon sparked into action and began helping me fill out a form that, in all honesty, merits an A-Level just for completing it. Still I had my visa and was, in my eyes, officially travelling - that state of limbo was fading rapidly, to be replaced by the first real pangs of genuine excitement since I left Cape Town.

Dusk At The Base Backpackers

This is one aspect of African life I don't like, and there is only one place in Maputo where you need to be more forceful than a polite 'no' for people to leave you be - the fish market. Here, slightly away from the bustling streets of the city centre, anyone who steps foot into the market is an open target to be hunted down. Before the hawkers, with their sculptures, art, pirate DVDs and all manner of other curios, get a chance to sink their claws into you the chefs are in with the initial blow.

My Prawn Queen

Say Hello To Lunch

The Perfect Meal For This Traveller

A Proud Gran On The Ferry To Catembe

Catembe is unique in that it is nothing like the rest of Maputo, or any city for that matter, yet it fits the vibe perfectly. Bars line the dusty streets, frequented by the local 'fly girls and boys' who love to party at the weekends, and life is lived at the slowest of paces - which suited my mood perfectly at the time.

Smiling In The Face Of Adversity

It is worth pointing out that these are not bars as you and I know them, but rather small shacks with no seating inside, that serve a seemingly endless supply of cold beers from the hatches at the front. Seats and tables deck the streets as patrons chat and play backgammon, periodically shouting, because of the music, for a fresh beer. Most share their beers, in order to make sure their amber nectar is always cold, and most seemed to accompany it with freshly roasted nuts, either cashews or peanuts.

Having sunk a few cold ones I ventured along the main, and only, street with bars on, mixing with the locals. Through the bits of Portuguese I had picked up, and their broken English I was able to hold half decent conversations with them, but it was a game of pool that proved the perfect ice-breaker. In keeping with the nature of the place the pool tables were out on the street and were run by a winner stays on system - meaning if you were good you could play for free all day.

Shooting Pool Maputo Style

With that it was time to catch the ferry back across to the city, knowing the next day would see me heading north to the costal village of Tofo - where life was even more laid back than in Catembe.

The View From Catembe To Maputo

Me and Vincent In The Sura Den

The Sura Queens

As I said it's not sold over the counter, as I found out when I asked about it, but rather from an illegal drinking den behind the market. Without a local to show you the way it would be impossible to find this den, but once inside there are never less than ten people there drinking as two ladies make a constant supply of the hooch. At this stage I must stress this drink tastes disgusting, but at ten meticals (25p) a litre, is the cheapest and most effective way for the locals to get drunk.

Distilling Sura For The Locals

One man who doesn't decline is the fisherman who got a little hot under the collar when he saw me snapping a picture of his fish stand, which for him is conveniently located just over the square from the Sura den. Apparently by taking a picture of his stall I was putting his business at jeopardy, and this is what followed:

Fisherman (speaking with a slight slur and fish blood on his hands): No picture unless you pay.
Me: Why must I pay?
Fisherman (trying to grab my camera): You ruin my business, take photo out now.
Me (putting a hand on his chest to keep him back): No, and get your filthy hands away from me.
Fisherman: Twenty meticals for pictures.
Me: I already said no you drunken fool.

By this stage a small group of other fisherman had gathered and were watching the situation with amusement all over their faces.

Fisherman: Ok we go to the police station.
Me: It's not against the law to take a photo.
Fisherman (making another lunge for my camera): Get the photo out of there now.
Me: (pushing him away from me again): I said no.
Fisherman (noticing the other fisherman laughing, and accompanied with an unsavoury hand gesture): You lot go f@@k yourselves.

The Picture That Got Me Into Trouble

My time in Tofo will continue, although I will not be here for as long as I first planned - but rather I will venture further north for a few weeks before coming south to meet Mum and Dad in Vilankulos.

written by  MarcusInAfrica on March 20, 2009 from Inhambane, Mozambique
from the travel blog: Cape to Cardiff
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The Two Amigoes (Myself and Hans)

Suddenly everything is black, and I have no memory of getting into bed. Who turned the lights out? Did I tuck my mosquito net in? Then it dawned on me, I wasn't in bed. So where was I? A voice in my head was telling me to open my eyes, yet my eyes simply didn't want to open. Eventually I forced one eye open, and just as I had thought I was not in bed, rather I was sprawled, lifeless, on the sand outside of my hut.

Panic set in as the fever engulfed my body, sweat running off me like water, energy continuing to sap away. If only I could get into my hut I would somehow survive this. With the last delusional ounces of energy that remained in my body I dragged myself into my room and onto my bed, where I let my body fall into a stupor, my mind going back over those two days with the witch doctor trying to work out when he had cursed my health....

The Witch Doctor's Village

Despite Hans being close to fluent in Portuguese he knew not a word of Shangana or Matso (the only languages Samwuel the witch doctor spoke), and thus we had employed the services of a local craftsman to act as a translator, whilst Hans put everything into English for Lineah and myself. After exchanging pleasantires we were given an open floor to ask whatever we wanted, although it only took two questions before Samwuel offered to do a spiritual reading for each of us, which was an offer we could not refuse.

The Witch Doctor's Tikholo

Over the next fifteen minutes, which saw Samwuel continuoisly gather his Tikholo in both hands, before tapping them on the floor and scattering them - all the while muttering away to my spirits in an almost trance like state - he made four bizarre, yet wholly accurate revelations about me. They were as follows:

1. In the past I have had a tendancy to start many things, but failed to see all of them through.
2. When I dream my dreams only come right at the end of my sleep, if they come at all.
3. Despite having been in my percieved dream job for the last two years it only ever paid me just enough to get by each monnth.
4. I have knee problems and have had, in the past, two operations on my left knee.

There will be those will say that some of his revelations were a touch vague, and could have been lucky guesses - yet like I said before, each was unnervingly accurate to me. Despite having an open mind, I must admit that the second phase of the visit, which took part the following day, was, whilst a unique experience, not something I could believe in.

...Nothing there to sugest I had been cursed, or had he done it just by talking to my spirits? I tried to focus on what was real, the present and not the past, yet as the fever grew my thoughts could only focus on the idea I had been cursed, or had somehow contracted malaria...

The Witch Doctor's Hut

On completition of the bath I was sent to the edge of the village, where I had to wait for Hans to complete his bath - for he had gone through a similar process to me. The final act, which was by far the weirdest, was the making of the oil that I was to take away and rub over my body everytime I had a shower. Here Samwuel went into some deep trance, alternating between putting powder into the oil and his mouth!

...Still my temperature rises, my eyes rolling in my head and thoughts of a nasty and lonely end enter my mind. Still nothing of a curse, but then I haven't remembered the money and how he spat all over it...

With the oil made a price was agreed upon, which was too high for me, and too low for him - as is often the way in Africa - but both parties finally settled on it and the money was exchanged. Samwuel then informed us that the ritual he would perform with the money was to cast any evil spirits from my body into the money, and thus began a bizarre series of chants as he poured what appeared to be water over the floor, before taking a mouthful himself. That is when he looked to the heavens and spewed the liquid all over the money and various powders on the floor.

...Back in my room it dawned on me what was wrong. Through all of the time with Samwuel, which was close to two days, I had not drunk any water. So rather than dying of malaria or an evil curse I diagnosed myself with a simple case of dehydration - which still wasn't the nicest experience. Back to full fitness my travels are set to continue, right after I have caught up on some beach time.

written by  MarcusInAfrica on March 30, 2009 from Inhambane, Mozambique
from the travel blog: Cape to Cardiff
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A Perfect Sunrise

The First Lesson Of Surfing!

Alena - My Surf Coach

During the first two hour lesson, which admittedly involved a lot of lying on the board and just talking behind the break, I managed to catch just one wave, and then spent the next fifteen minutes fighting my way back through breaking waves to get to where I wanted to be. It didn't help that the board was shorter than me (not that I am making excuses for my efforts), so every time I paddled it felt like I was on a capsizing boat.

Me and Alena On The Dhow

Sunrise In Tofo

The KTM Adventure

For now I am in Vilankulo, after saying farewell to Tofo and my surf coach, awaiting the arrival of Mum and Dad and a week away from the rigours of backpacking. Don't change the channel as I will be right back after this short intermission.

written by  MarcusInAfrica on April 8, 2009 from Inhambane, Mozambique
from the travel blog: Cape to Cardiff
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