Time ran out. Not straight after we left Chizzie of course, but that was really our final port of call for Africa, everything else was just a place to stay on the way to the airport, pleasant though much of it might have been.

Amanda adopting Likoma's kids

Likoma Island is a good instance. Amanda swam into shore after jumping off our dhow to be greeted by hoards of excited kids (her arrival is advertised on some kiddie grapevine I'm sure) who splashed her for a bit and followed us, pied piper style up the gravel street to town. We stopped in suitable bemusement to wander through Africa's second largest cathedral, situated as it is on one of its more remote, unpopulated and tiny islands you can see how slightly surreal an experience that might have been, then went down to the waters edge.

Imminent croc attack
Amanda, in a wild fit of womanliness decided to go for a swim. It was only when she was a few hundred metres out that a nervous woman rushed up to me and asked me if I realised that the reason there was no-one else in the water was that it was packed with crocodiles. Looking round I could see that she was right, where normally there would be people bathing, kids splashing about and women doing their washing, there was no-one within ten feet of the waterline. I got up and shouted, signaled to Amanda to come in. She didn't hear me, but luckily felt a bit odd swimming out there on her own, started to feel a bit unsafe, like maybe there were crocs swimming underneath and around her. To everyone's relief she turned round and started to swim back, arriving at the beach to a sign of relief from us, and one of regret from the green spiny denizens in the deeps below. Lesson learned.

I took an hour or so to find Mango beach, (where we could meet our ferry and our bags) mainly because everyone we asked for directions sent us off in the wrong direction. It was pitch black and we were cutting across farmers fields, gardens and cabbage patches, before following some power lines and we were sure were headed in the right way. Once there we found a groovy local dance competition on the beach and a nice man behind the resort bar willing to cook us up some amazing pancakes. There was a also a couple of girls who had come over from Chizzie a few days earlier who were also getting the ferry tonight. They happily agreed to share their booked car and we sat watching the sun setting with the relative calm of people in Africa who know things are all sorted out.

Lost and scared
Except the car failed to turn up. Their driver called the bar and told them that he didn't have enough petrol to come all the way, we'd have to meet him half way! That roughly translates as "I can save some money on petrol making you walk some of the agreed distance". It was dark and we had no torch but also no choice if we wanted to catch that boat, be reaquainted with our bags and catch our plane out of Africa. We all formed a group and started up the hill, along a tiny path that we soon lost and into the blackness. I was convinced we were going to get bitten by a snake, Amanda had been followed by a tiny puppy dog that insisted on getting under her feet and we were properly lost with no idea where the road was. It took about ten minutes of waiting about and moving in random directions shouting before we finally saw his lights. I was livid by the time we'd walked up to the car but it wasn't my ride, so it wasn't my place to give the bollocking. We got in, he started up and promptly ran over the little dog, the driver just shrugged and drove off. I phoned the owners who came and found him later and had to put him down, poor little thing didn't stand a chance in Africa.

Our campsite, the deck of the Ilala

The boat was fun, with our tent pitched on the deck we had our own little private cabin, sleeping bags and mats to snuggle down and sleep the journey through. A few beers with our fellow passengers didn't hurt either. Before we got to Nkhata bay we'd already met some people who had a hire car waiting for them and managed to hitch a lift to Chitimba. They were very nice indeed so we bought them breakfast in Mzuzu and had a great time stopping at some random village heritage centre (complete with bamboo bridge) on the way.

You will never forget.....

After our surreal experience crossing bamboo bridges, visiting caves with anscentoral totems in them and trying desperatel;y to get away, our new friends even drove us all the way to the hostel, where we spent one last night in Malawi (same hostel we spent our first night in Malawi) and I had one last sausage toastie (my first meal in Malawi) before getting off to the border, into Tanzania and settled for the night in Mbeya, possibly the horriblest town in the country.

Our otherwordly tourist stop

The banks wouldn't give me any money for some reason, so I had to borrow some from Alex and Chloe, our fellow transit tourists on the bus, till we got to Dar. Its a bloody good job he was around or we would have been buggered.

Out of Africa, African style

Then it was a couple of very short days in Dar es Salaam, avoiding taxi drivers, trying to not get forced into buying weed, signing up for a tour, talking to anyone or looking vulnerable as we walked down the street before the time had come to pick up our African travel bags for the last time and get on that plane once more to Asia.

No more oggling at my tongue ring

And so Africa. What a place, a continent defying sanity and western style logic for ever and ever. Of course its not a western contintent, it is its own, unique place with its own unique people, cultures and rules. They say a place doesn't exist to make the travellers life comfortable, but for those people that live there, and thats certainly true in one sense for Africa. Though I can't see how it makes anyones life exactly easy. It was a challenge certainly, with at least as many fantastic highs as unhappy lows, as many picture book sunsets as crumbling concrete skylines, as many wide open, game filled plains as dirty, dangerous back alleys. Somewhere I will never forget, always look back on with a half smile, but never truly know. I'm glad I came here, parts of this trip through Africa will stick out as some of the absolute highlights of my life, but I don't think either of us are going to rush back to do it all over again. I'm content to let it stay as a memory, achieved but not ready to be revisited. Easier traveling awaits in Kathmandu and Nepal, trekking with Andy in the Himalayas and having a drink with Amanda's family on a porch overlooking a wide range of green hills. And then of course India, that love it or leave it travellers destination that puts Africa to shame in its mad excesses. Maybe this was just the training we needed before diving head first into that boiling pot. Who knows, in six months maybe Africa won't seem so bad after all.

Toilets, his and... his?

Ahhhhhhhhh what a little paradise Chizzie is. The kind of place you never want to leave.Wakwenda retreat really is a beautiful oasis of calm and prettiness. The perfect place to do nothing.

Wakawenda retreat

The Ilala ferry is legendary. It is the only really safe way to get to the islands in Malawi but it only comes twice a week, meaning you have to stay for a week and it can often run off schedule. Last week the President comandeered it for his staff! It takes 4 hours to get to Chizzie at a rate of 10 knots. Its not luxury travel, the economy is like refugee class, the second class was completely full with people's bananas and metal sheeting and the first class means put your tents up on the deck time. It a shame it travels in the night because i'm sure the view would be fantastic.

No mean feat

We pulled up just outside Wakwenda and Nick the owner, having been to the Lake of Stars Festival was on the boat and lead us to his transport. We crashed almost immediately in our beach side sand floored cabin, happy in the knowledge there was not much to do for the next 6 days. We were well and truly stranded until the Ilalla came back for us. Excellent!

View from our bedroom window

We were in great company. Dave who had been in Mayoka with us was an Ozzie lad. He had all the rudeness but bags of charm with it. We loved him and he kept us entertained endlessly. He relished in winding the girls up who were from England and Ireland, Emma and Amy. I am sure they locked their doors extra tight for fear he would break in at night. Each night, if we so chose, we were allowed to ransack nick's DVD collection, overtake his living room and chill out with some of the local green.(Courtesy of Dave)

Lets go diving

We did actaully get around to doing some fabulous diving. Cheap and chilled with cychlids galore and really tiny, quite tight swim throughs. No current, no salt, a flaoty flying experience.

3, 2, 1

Dark and scary

Dive buddies

To walk around the island takes about 6 hours if you do it properly. We did'nt quite manage the south tip as we'd seen it on the dive trip but we gave the rest a good go. Stopping every now and again under the many enormous Baobabs for shade we trooped across to the sounds of "give me my picture" from the naked children who ran after us and never once asked for money. The main buisness was abviously fish. Millions of them were laid out to dry on ratan platforms right across the islands. Fisherman meticulously mended their nets and families sat outside their humble abodes plaiting each others hair while others washed clothes in the lake. It is said that 3'000 people live on the island but I have no idea where they are all hiding.

The mighty baobab's

The only negative thing about Chizzie were the lake flies at night. To walk from the bar to dinner we had to literally wade though storms of them. it was a feeling that stayed with you for hours. Horrid.

Then he pissed on me!

We knew, much as we were loathed to leave, that we had to make it to Likomo to see the second biggest church in Africa in the most obscure place, being an island in Lake Malawi. The missionaries certainly did themselves proud. In true African style we waited three hours for the wind to change so that we could take the dhow across. Just as we were nearly there I decided to jump in and swim to shore, a mistake I made once too often on that island.

So the 4:30am start next morning wasn't completely welcome. But the bus we'd booked was due to leave Mzuzu at 6:30 so we didnt have much choice. Transport had been organised well in advance and confirmed through Luca, Mayoka's manager, so it came as a bit of a surprise for Claire when James, the local fixer, banged on her door at four and asked if she still wanted it... 'OK', he said, 'I'll go and find you something'.

When we'd got up and gathered at the car park the minibus we'd been promised for 5 people that morning turned out to be a car (Rachel, our part time travel buddy was going too). Amanda, crying and upset had to say goodbye to Claire and Neil there and then and not come with them to the bus stop! We got in and I commented that the petrol light was flashing, 'no problem', he said, 'faulty guage, plenty enough to get to Mzuzu'.

Typical Malawian transport

Fourty five minutes later we were maroonedon the side of the dusty, empty road having run completely out of fuel. Their bus was due to set off in ten minutes and there was no way on Gods green Earth they were going to make it... we were not best pleased by the efficacy of African transport. Our idiotic driver called a friend to bring him some petrol, who attempted to charge him lots and lots of money for the priveledge... some friend. In the end it took us a little under three hours to do the hour long journey to Mzuzu. Claire and Neil missed their bus flamboyantly. The taxi driver offered to take them all the way to Lilongwe (they didnt have much choice by this point) but as they reached the station it appeared they expected Neil to drive as he didn't even have a licence to carry passengers! They returned to the bus stop and we managed to find them a better taxi with a real driver (who actually had some petrol) and sent them off to the airport... a completely unnecesary, absurd sham of a mockery of a total balls up all round I think.

Luka was mortified when I arrived back to Mayoka village, but it's ok, he took it all out on James who i think has been sacked.

Off to the post office

The next few days were concerned almost exclusively with Amanda buying up enough wood carvings to fill a fair sized lorry, so many orders she put in to the carving men that after we'd gone they were still delivering, we have had to ask Divemistress Kate to be our contact so they can all be collected and posted home... thanks Kate. Amanda's rose tinted memories of cheap post to England were shattered when we had collected enough boxes to pack everything up (the supermarkets enterprising staff actually charge tourists for their empty boxes) and sweated our way to the post office. Since George Bush implimented his latest studid policies the price of parcel postage has gone up from Malawi almost six times! Amanda, having managed to collect a mighty 30 kilograms of stuff, with at least half that again on order, had to go home to lie down while I finished the posting and with-held the cost. It wasn't cheap.

I'm not laughing Amanda!

By monday our bags were atleast light again, (though Amanda has started buying wooden carvings again so I'm not sure how long that will last for), and we left Mayoka for the last time (maybe ever) with a bit of a tear in our eyes to catch the famous Ilala ferry across the Lake to Chizimulu Island. After Claire and Neil had gone there was really nothing but the islands, which we promised ourselves we'd see, to keep us in Africa. It felt like the final pages at the end of this chapter were about to be turned. We turned our backs on the mainland and set sail.

Days passed in a languid haze of hammocks, lake baths,snorkelling, sunshine and booze. We were even too lazy to play Balderdash. After a while a pattern emerged, lazy day over we'd meet on the balcony of number 4, have a cocktail or two, adjourn to the bar area, maybe play some pool, stuff our faces silly on the buffet and retire back to the balcony. It was a fairly simple arrangement but effective and fun. We went to a restaurant opening put on by Andy and Dusty of the dive shop over the bay. Lots of very nice food, a reggae band and more drinkin'. Claire and Neil were elated with all our new facebook friends!

Another 5 litres of Drosty Hoff anyone

Waiting for the buffet

The local lads

Amanda and Claire of course had to go shopping to the junction, the king of all markets. Amanda bought a table and Claire ordered a table and a 'cheifs chair' which she designed herself. (Amoungst other less bulky items) We decided to get a boat back to save Claire's knees, Myoka being hard on them as it was. There were no boats to be found. We called Captain David but his phone was off. We tried to dive shop but their boat was unavailable. In the end we had to go with the most disgusting, rickety, full of fish scales, stinky boat you have ever seen. Neil was not impressed.

Anyone got any petrol?

This is not 3 star!

On their last night with us Claire and Neil put on our Hen and Stag nights! The power was out all night, we played by candlelight and had a really fantastic time. It was the best night I've had for a very very long time. There was Mr and Mrs quizes, a nice gold sparkly g-string for me to wear (to the bar) and moustaches for the guys, bobbly sparkly head things and sashes for the ladies, L-plates and balloons. We had dinner (steak!!!) on the balcony and dranks for England. It was great.

Our hen and stag night

Loving the spangly pants

Yay... Nkhata Bay, without doubt our fave place of all time in Africa, the chilled out respite if Mayoka Village gently sheltering us from the madness of Africa. We'd arrived, hot, dusty, stiff, sore, tired and more than a little in need of shower, sustenance and sweet, sweet kuche kuche; African public transport didn't dissapoint once again! Here we would be spending almost a week just chilling out, regaining that lost will to get on a bus, eating good food and soaking up the good life... Thank God for Nkhata Bay.

Except they got our bookings all wrong, put Claire in a room at the top of a sheer cliff, filled the rooms we'd booked and the manager who might be able to sort it all out had gone away on her hols! We exercised admirable patience and waited a night before we could sort it all out. Claire stayed in her room for dinner, thank God she had an en-suite!

Its never easy!

Trying to get out of Senga bay had been a nightmare. Our taxi miraculously had turned up at Cool Runnings but there was no bus to be found at Senga Bay depo. We waited and we waited and we tried to negotiate rides and in the end we only just managed to jump on a bus that I was convinced had just put the "Mzuzu" sign in the window to gain customers. It travelled from petrol station to petrol station but the town was out. Eventually we got lucky but unbeknown to us this meant that the bus could take us only half the way. We were herded into another, much more uncomfy bus for the rest of the journey and left only after the drivers took their sweet time about negotiating the prices 4 Mzungu would get. It only took 8 hours instead of the 3 it would have taken in a car.

The wonders of Africa

All was well the next day though. Amanda, remembering the seriously cheap postal charges from here 6 months ago, was planning a daring raid on; first the local wood carvers, then the large row of tourist handicrafts out of town. I was practicing my guitar for the first time in ages and Neil was struck dumb by the lack of stuff to do. To make the lads happy then we decided to go into Mzuzu (the nearest town, and hour away) and organise the most expensive, lushest luxury executive bus back to Lilongwe for when the time came for the holiday to end. We also took the opportunity to run to the supermarket for a bottle of voddie and a large box of wine.

The Myoka challenge

There were a couple of local carved out hollow tree canoes sitting at the front of Mayoka. They form the centre of the 'Mayoka challenge' whereby, if any pair can, without practice, get in, legs in together and row round the pontoon, 40 metres away and back again without falling in they get a free night and food. Neil and I were so determined to do it we'd snuck in some practice secretly while we were in Cape McClear on some young lads boat.

Can but try

This one was different. No matter how we tried we kept falling out, it was like the boat was made of vaseline! Roi and Yael came and had a go, and got wet, Special (Mayoka barman) had a few words of advice, which didn't work, and even Amanda waded in to hold the damn thing straight. No matter what we tried we didn't last 5 seconds before the whole thing tipped over. I think it was a rigged boat I really do. Kids and their families, goats and bicycles all in one canoe rode by laughing at the happless mazungu's and in the end we just had to join them. I have to admit, we did look pretty stupid.

The only way!