Cooked pancakes overlooking a mountain panorama in preparation for a long day of driving, with stops for water and to wash - I had a shower in the road from the ladder with a couple of cycling locals stopping to watch.
Driving on rutted and dusty roads and occasional stretches of smooth tarmac, we climb, with long hauls in first gear up to a plateau. Our route was decorated with beautiful flowering plants, trees with impressive prickle, and plants with flowers similar to Australia's waratahs. We passed a mass of people off the road and stopped to check if it was a market - yes, it was a wonderful, friendly small market. Most of the sellers spoke neither French nor English but younger family members translated prices and the non-verbal communications as we bought very cheap vegetables and 80 bananas for 30c.
Aborted our lunch stop when Tsetse flies invaded, resulting in us cavorting and slapping insects with hands and thongs (flip flops) when they landed on parts of the truck and each other. We handed a bowl of food around the back of the truck as we continued driving and later in the day indulged in along snack-attack of beer, peanuts, biscuits with jam, grapefruit, boiled sweets and other messy treats.
The sun burned hot from a beautiful cloudy sky of blues, whites and greys as we drove on into flatter country and made camp in another gravel pit.
We dined on spuds and pumpkin and it was late when I finally had time to scan the stars. And there it was, the Southern Cross. Per had asked me to let him know when the constellation was finally visible, so I called him and he crawled out of his tent to view the symbol of us southerners. I felt an incredible sense of homecoming, even though I was a long way away.
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