Cold morning, everyone damp and raring to go. Stanley powered through the quagmire without pause and onto the asphalt. Very long, cold and windy day, with lunch in the sand beside a small roadside café/snack shop. Road fenced on both sides with very little of interest to divert us.
Finally reached Gaborone, where we had just one hour because we were trying to make the South African border. So different from most of Africa we’ve seen - Kel said it was like his home, Harlow, in England - with a shopping mall lined with supermarkets, fruits stalls and souvenir shops. Visited Botswanacraft with Nikki before spending the last food kitty on cheese and biscuits and two casks of wine to celebrate our last night on the road.
Back to the truck for a frustrating 90 minutes spent trying to find the road to the border, getting different directions every time we stopped to ask and finding ourselves back at the same place several times. Kel and Nikki got utterly frustrated.
Finally, we found the right road, but it was 5pm, so we decided to camp and party rather than try for the border. Through an open gate we found a small cleared sandy area among prickly scrub scattered rubbish - a perfect finale camp!
We demolished our wine and cheese entrée in rapid time and began the most riotous night of our African Overland journey. We ceremoniously burned our cane stools; set up cameras on auto time and made five-tier human pyramids, the first one collapsing with hysterical laughter; and took group photos of each of the nationality groups on board. Geoff manhandled whoever was brave enough to get up and dance around the coals with him; Julie got louder and more huggy with her intake of Bacardi and told me she thought I was one of the strengths of the trip. Geoff got drunk on beer, wrestled people on the ground, sloshed Ann's tent with water, and led a loud rendition of the Ol’ 4 Wheeler song around Kell and Nikki’s tent. Kel rejoined us and then went back to his tent and told Nikki to get up “because she wouldn’t believe what was going on”. Julie collapsed into Ann’s tent, most of us thinking Ann would be ropable the next day, not aware that she was in hysterics in her tent, listening to us carry on.
Water became the central element of our partying, with Julie heaving around a Gerry can, drenching numerous people, including Per and me (who had become tightly entwined), and being drenched in return. She fell over at the end of the truck and couldn't get up, even with the drunken help of Bill hauling her around by the arms. We sang versus of the Camp Down Races.
Hawk had gone to bed to sleep but people tickling him got him back up again, in time to witness the water war and Julie hurling bright red plates Frisbee-like through the air, along with cups & bowls, threatening to decapitate us if we didn’t watch ourselves. Like a woman possessed in a scene reminiscent of Macbeth, she used Gerry can water to try to cleanse herself of sand. Bill decided to take her in hand but that was not easy. Gary finally got her to her tent, whereupon he took over as the chief source of entertainment, wandering from tent to truck eight times, weaving between Jim & Hans, past Per and I and into the back of the truck, saying hello to everybody each time in his bright breezy manner.
Per and I finally went to bed, having scrounged a single mat off Jim. The moonlight was bright and a cowbell clattered as the animal wandered around camp. A crash of undergrowth disrupted the quiet and I looked up into the gaze of a large donkey that stared long and hard at me before turning away.
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