The traveler sees what he sees, the tourist sees what he has come to see - Gilbert K. Chesterton

15 May 2019, Xangongo to Cahama, 96km
“Wild” camp 0Kz (R0)

Soon after leaving Xangongo, we crossed the Cunene River which runs southwest to later form part of the border between Angola and Namibia. On the bridge were two boys selling boiled eggs nestled in the cardboard container in which the raw originals had been bought. They carried with them a container of salt so that buyers could peel and salt and eat. Yesterday and again today we saw women selling fruit and veg from wheelbarrows.
What an extraordinary ride we had , particularly the first 30km or so which took us past baobabs in their hundreds. A bonanza of babs? A bounty? A blush? These stately trees tower above the other vegetation, outlined against a blue sky, shading a homestead here, a pond there. Their trunks are thick and smooth, their seed pods offer a snack to hungry boys. Such a privilege. Later in the day we climbed hills under intermittent cloud, riding a ridge which fell away to the west so we could see for miles across the tops of bushes and trees.
Our excellent road and wide shoulder continued, offering us a stress-free ride. There is not much traffic outside the towns, with more two- and three-wheelers than four. But we never had to think about the traffic at all, safe on our shoulder. We saw today a calf transported on an autocycle, and a goat. The goat was “seated” behind the driver, facing backwards. His legs were tied to the foot rests so his belly rested on the seat, his legs straddling it. Truth be told, he looked relatively comfortable, though I suppose it was off to market with him.
I inadvertently scared three young men. They were walking abreast, two on the shoulder, one in the road. One carried a solar panel, one a radio, and one the speakers. So intent were they on listening to their mobile and ingeniously-charged radio, that they did not hear me approaching. I usually say hello from some distance away to let the unwary know I am there, but was tired and did not think about it. As I came past them, moving almost silently and fast, the poor young fella in the road yelled and leapt and dashed away. Almost immediately, of course, he saw I was no threat, and they and we laughed and yelled apologies and hellos and OKs. I have taken to talking to potentially frightened children in the same sing-song voice I use when trying to prevent goats running as I pass: “olá, olá”, I say, “it’s OK, don’t worry”.
About 7km outside Cahama we met an English-speaking rastafarian sitting under a tree he had trained to look like an umbrella, selling large lumps of charcoal. After chatting for awhile, we asked about accommodation in Cahama to be told the pensão had closed seven years ago. So we were on the lookout for other options. Charl met two priests who directed us to Arieta’s restaurant, saying she might have rooms and could feed us. She did not have rooms, but suggested we camp behind her restaurant and offered us the use of her loo and bucket-bath facilities, gratefully accepted. Her staff cooked us a delicious soup (“sopa”) later, and served Charl the last two beers from their fridge, then stubbornly refused payment. So kind.

For today's route see below photos
For overview route, click on ROUTE tab above…