ADVENTURE LESSONS LEARNED
You learn a thing or two about bikes, people and planet Earth when you travel.
British adventurer and film maker Spencer Conway has circumnavigated Africa and South America. That’s 70,000 miles and 47 countries. You learn a thing or two about bikes, people and planet Earth when you do this kind of thing…
TRAVELLING ACROSS CONTINENTS on a bike is a challenge, but it isn’t hard: I circumnavigated Africa, alone and unsupported, on a Yamaha Ténéré XT660Z riding through 34 countries, over nine months and 34,000 miles. I also, amazingly, circumnavigated South America. I say ‘amazingly’ because I am seriously accident prone and, on top of that, my sense of direction is poor – I get lost in my own kitchen. For various reasons this was a one year four month spluttering through all 13 countries racking up 36,000 miles. I was speaking to a Zimbabwean psychiatrist recently and he told me I am fairly sane despite this urge to circumnavigate every continent. He drew a circle with a smaller circle inside it. He then said: ‘This is you, you are a wheel.’ Then he drew radiating lines: ‘These are the spokes. You have some spokes missing but the wheel moves on – this is your problem.’ Thank goodness for that. I thought I was mad. If it’s just a couple of spokes, how bad can it be? So, after 70,000 miles and 47 countries what have I learned, apart from the fact that Yamaha’s Ténéré is the best adventure bike in the world?
‘He crossed the road, hung a hosepipe over the branch of a tree and proceeded to strip completely naked. He then lathered himself up…’
Border crossings
Many people find delays at border crossings frustrating. I don’t. As we know delays are part of pretty much any journey. I prefer to see it as a piece of theatre. My maxim is day-by-day, border-by-border, nothing lasts forever (good or bad, soak up the experience). One particular experience springs to mind when I was confronted by a naked customs officer at the Ecuador/peru border… I arrived at a rickety customs hut run by a Salvador Dali lookalike studiously manning his desk and clearly ready for any rush of tourists that might come his way. I was well prepared with my passport and all bike papers and photocopies in my hand. Infact, I was Germanically organised and hopeful of a swift and pain free transition to the next country. However, Dali had other ideas. ‘Wait maybe fifteen minutes here,’ he said pointing to an upturned breeze block on the side of the road. He then crossed the road, hung a hosepipe over the branch of a tree and proceeded to strip completely naked. He lathered himself up and had a good wash before putting on a Hawaiian-type palm tree shirt and trousers. He then greased back his hair – perfecting his look by way of broken truck mirror – before sauntering back over to me. ‘Passport please.’ He then checked my passport while dancing around to some seriously lively Latino music and whoosh – a stamp. I was off, leaving my Hawaiian shirted exhibitionist giving me the thumbs up and shouting, ‘Good luck.’ Superb. Getting a stamp in the Democratic Republic of Congo was not as easy, but just as entertaining… I decided to head to a little known border post through the centre of the country, avoiding the better-known coastal border at Matadi. I was heading to Maquela do Zombo and my Michelin map (I do not carry a GPS or phone) showed there was a decent road. However, the muddy road rapidly turned into a track and the track then disappeared. I ended up covering just seven miles in a day as I cut my way through thick bush, in 35º heat. As the light was starting to fade I came to a clearing with two traditional thatched huts in the centre. A Congolese guy nearly fell off his stool when this six foot four inch foreigner, covered in mud, rode up on a multi-coloured Ténéré. ‘Where did you come from?’ He quizzed me, incredulously. I explained my route and he whistled. ‘Nobody has been through here in many years.’ That made my day, well my year in fact. The problem was, because he hadn’t seen anyone in such a long time, the ink on his official stamp had dried up. But this didn’t phase him. Instead he used a Biro and wrote in my passport: Spencer James Conway can pass officially. He then scribbled the date next to it, and that was it. I wasn’t convinced, but he seemed confident so off I went. As it turned out I had no problems with his unique way of ‘stamping’ my passport. Goodness knows, he is
probably still sitting there waiting for the next lunatic to come past in a few years time. I wonder if he is on the Government payroll, or just doing it for fun?
Malaria and the Ghost Road
One of the hazards of travelling is the risk of illness and disease. No matter where you are going, whether for a weekend or a longer trip, always take out travel and medical insurance unless you want to lose your house, car, dog… I contracted malaria in the middle of nowhere in Ghana and on that occasion treatment was free. The Anopheles mosquito is an evil fellow and malaria is no fun. I was looked after in a homestead by an extremely slim, tall woman with a dyed white Afro. In my delirium I was convinced I was being cared for by a giant cotton bud. Luckily I pulled through and continued my journey. I also contracted malaria in Venezuela when a scourge of mosquitos attacked me in full dive formation, sucking out most of my blood. I was like a pin cushion. I rode for fourteen days, feeling disorientated, and that included traversing the Amazon along the beautiful Ghost Road… The Ghost Road, or BR319, was built in the 1970s by the Brazilian Army. It has been neglected ever since and is slowly being reclaimed by the jungle. Consequently it is not used by many, which is why it is called the Ghost Road. The BR319 snakes 550 miles, which includes 20 rotting wooden bridges, through the Amazon, to the city of Porto Velho. Although I was weak from what I thought was man flu I loved the ride. I eventually made it to the coastal city of Trujillo, Peru where I collapsed, shaking and shivering in the street. I was hospitalised and treated with utmost care and with the best of nursing. However, I hadn’t read the small print on my insurance and I ended up losing massively. Always, always get the correct cover.
Recommended routes
I understand most people don’t have the time and money to do long trips. It’s a risk for me too. Let me recommend some great rides that are not ludicrously long. For those of you who enjoy the splendid nothingness and serenity of deserts the Mauritanian and Namib deserts in Africa are both otherworldly and memorable. For pure beauty, wildlife and stunning red murram roads it’s difficult
to beat Kenya and Tanzania. In South America forget the famous Death Road in Bolivia. It is extremely touristy and you will have to endure hundreds of cyclists, with cameras, and tolls. A tacky ‘I survived Death Road’ T-shirt can be bought at the end. Instead, head to Colombia and the Trampolin del Diablo – the Devil’s Trampoline – a beautiful Indiana Jones-style jungle road which snakes through the mountains and is frequented by locals only. For those who want a double thrill the road leading from Uyuni, the gateway to the Salar salt flats, to Tupiza, is a challenging dirt and sand route that is also part of the Dakar Rally route.
‘Eat the street food, embrace the local cuisine and when in doubt go for the sardines’
When in doubt go for the sardines
I met a wonderful lady in the Democratic Republic of Congo called Emmanuelle. I told her I was a fan of sardines and she presented me with six cans on my departure. I was touched but was wondering about sardine weight distribution on the bike when I found seventeen cans of sardines in my rucksack. There was no way I could carry all that fish on the Ténéré. But I didn’t want to offend Emmanuelle, so I set off and rode the next 30 miles handing out cans of sardines to needy street children. There weren’t any, but I persuaded them they needed sardines. When it comes to food my best advice, in any country, is to eat the street food, embrace the local cuisine and when in doubt go for the sardines. I am a firm believer in eating the local street food, drinking the local water and letting your body respond. Out of 127 countries I have had food poisoning twice. People worry too much.
No GPS required
As far as directions are concerned I travel with no GPS, no map and no phone. I ask five people the direction and if two of them
give the same answer, off I go. It’s normally wrong, but so be it. Apparently a circumnavigation of Africa is about 25,000 miles. It took me 34,000 miles. A circumnavigation of South America is 21,700 miles, it took me 36,000 miles: don’t ask me where the lactose free milk is in the supermarket, I won’t know what it is and I will definitely lead you down the wrong aisle.
Be nice
When you travel pretty much everyone will help you, depending on the vibe you emit. No matter whether you choose a short trip in Europe, go to Iran, India, Bolivia, have a day in France, cruise round the south of England, the rule of niceness is the key. None of us want confrontation. An adventure on a bike is your adventure. The world is not that big and we all have the same hopes and aspirations. As a biker be nice to everyone and be polite. In every country turn off your engine, take off your helmet, extend your hand and above all enjoy yourself. The number one rule in any country, and anywhere you go in that country is deploy a big smile and good manners. We must support each other and be an advert for each other. I like people and I like this beautiful world. Sardines and motorbikes are tops too. Ride with pride.
The bike
Over the two continents my Yamaha Ténéré has covered 70,000 miles and is still going strong. The biggest difference between my two circumnavigations was that I did South America two-up with my girlfriend and camerawoman Cathy Nel, who came along to add versatility to my film making. The bike coped perfectly with this, and honestly I often forgot she was on the back. Apart from twenty flat tyres and the obvious regular maintenance – oil filter, air filter, chain tension, tyre wear and pressure etc the bike proved itself utterly capable. It is now sitting outside my house in Kent ready for Central America, USA, Alaska and Canada. Bike choice is personal. Honda C90s have made it round the world (Ed March) as have Yamaha R1s (Sjaak Lucassen). The important thing is it’s not a competition it’s a lifestyle.
‘As a biker be nice to everyone… Turn off your engine, take off your helmet, extend your hand and above all enjoy yourself’