What a journey. What a day. What am I putting myself through sometimes? I wonder.

I left the Maghadighadi Pans early morning and headed towards the southern border to South Africa. My aim for today was camping near ‘Olifant Drift’, a tiny outpost between Botswana and South Africa.

To get there, I had to traverse the Central District and the small town of Serowe for some culinary at the ‘Pack and Safe’.

Cooking and looking at the skies around me, all hell could have broken loose at any time.

I found a spacious area where Zimba and I would stay overnight. The humidity was insane as the heat did the rest. A lightning display far far away to the south was yet again outorderly.

Not a drop fell. Not a single drop made it down onto this dry land. Apart from my blood, sweat, and tears.

‘Get up very early, get going early, and arrive early in Ingogo, Kuifie.’

At least get there before sunset as I noticed both of my headlights were outta order. A perfect target.

I added the ‘ This is Africa factor’ into the equation which is equivalent to ‘Murphy’s law ‘. More or less.

Anyhoe, this was the plan for tomorrow. That’s right, I made a plan.

Clear skies and a spectacular colour display welcomed me to my last morning in Botswana. I shouldn’t, but let’s see what Rick can see.

A whole lotta serenity and long casting shadows showed up on my viewfinder. Gotta love this view.

I arrived at the Olifantdrif Border Crossing later than anticipated and hoped for a quick transfer.

The officials on the Botswana side were a bit sad when I briefly mentioned my adventures in their amazing country. ‘We hope you will come back soon.’ Me too.

The South African side of the fence..? Well, I did hope for a quick transfer.

This is a tiny, tiny outpost as 4 security guards sat under the shady tree, scanning their mobiles. No other traveler was anywhere near. Here we go.

‘You can only get a travel visa for one week’ the immigration officer said almost arrogantly.

‘No. I can get a visa for four weeks’ I replied. ‘The friendly immigration officer in Nelspruit guaranteed that a German citizen can get a travel visa for up to four weeks. I need a visa for four weeks as I booked my flight for January 12th.

‘They know nothing! We are the frontline! Here, in this book is the amount of time given by law highlighted in yellow. You can only get a travel visa for one week.’

‘How old is the book? Oh, it is from 2016. Only 8 years old? No changes since then?’

Boy oh boy. The time wasted by pure ignorance, arrogance, and incompetence is nothing short of astonishing. This is the only thing you can actually rely on in South Africa. If there is a way that they can waste your time, they won’t leave any stone unturned to find out what it is.

I don’t know who he called but our immigration official was heavily animated on the phone. An hour had passed and I finally had my stamp valid for 4 weeks.

The most direct route towards Newcastle, Kwa-Zulu-Natal, is straight towards Metropolis. Johannesburg and Pretoria combine to form one supersized traffic fungi in the middle of the heartland. Rush hour, crazy people, toll booths? No sir, not for me. Not today, not ever.

Instead, I aimed for the northern bypass via Middelburg. I joined the RE 33 at Vaalwater and made my way southeast. The RE 33 is also called ‘Nelson Mandela Drive’ and turns into the N11 which automatically bypasses Ingogo towards Newcastle. This is a more relaxed route as history passes by.

However, I still had hundreds of kilometers ahead of me as well as storm clouds as dark as the night. Clear blue skies in between north and south as the impressive storm cell released its fury. Four seasons in one day, Melbournians would have felt right at home.

Lunch was around 2 pm in Middleburg. Ingogo is ‘only’ another 250 kilometres from here. This would be a close call before sunset without headlights. But I had spotties. And I surely didn’t want to camp anywhere around here either. I pushed Zimba a bit harder towards the 100 km/h mark and overtook a fair number of lorries. Usually they hang on my arse, but today we had an important delivery. Us!

The light was getting dim as I approached the township of Bethal.

Not only that, a huge storm had built up at ‘Teaks End’ and I was heading straight towards the End. I had only seen gigantic sandstorms on TV and that’s how it felt like. Wind gusts reached at least 100 kilometres per hour as I tried to steer Zimba clear of danger. We were in danger of being blown off to the maize fields. I had it all today. Osmo captured the scenes whilst I was concentrating on what lies ahead.

The sun slowly disappeared behind the western mountain range through a see-through peephole.

Whilst singular farms appeared outstanding behind the dark wall of clouds accumulated.

I had to push Zimba even further as nightfall approached suddenly behind black clouds. Heavy rains in Volksrust excused my low visibility high beam drive through town. Surely the police didn’t want to pull me over in these conditions?

But the trickiest stretch of road still lies ahead of me; The curvy mountain range road around Mount Majuba. Majuba means pigeon in local languages, I haven’t seen any.

It was dark, I had a long and winding road ahead and I had no headlights. I couldn’t drive with spotties only as I would have blinded oncoming traffic and would have been easily plugged by waiting police. Unless…!?

Unless I drive right behind a semi-trailer with my spotties on. The trailer would shade the high beam for oncoming traffic. I could turn the high beam off as cars bypassed us and I could follow the taillights in front of me. And!

The police wouldn’t see me coming either. I just needed to find a lorry driving at that perfect speed for me to follow. That’s not easy as most snail-trail uphill. I was lucky. And so I did.

I passed at least two police stops when I finally saw the turnoff to Ingogo. The lightning storm intensified on this side of the mountain as the sky sparked across the horizon. All hell could break loose at any time.

I wonder what breaks out when I stand at the front gate? Anticipation and excitement levels rose as no one would have expected me to arrive in this crazy darkness.

No one, apart from Jakkels.

The Australian Blue Heeler heard Zimba a mile away and jumped up and down the entrance gates to the Adendorff Farm. We made it Zimba, we’re back home.

Ruhan came out first and Captain Pieter wasn’t far behind.

‘Surprise!!! We’re back.’

I can’t recall who had the biggest smile on his dial as the bighugs made the round. Probably me.

It felt so good, it felt so safe to be with my adopted South African family again.

Friendship is thicker than blood often enough.

I remember Pieter’s look when I told him my adventure for the day.

What a journey. What a day. What a journey altogether.

In my wicked ways of thinking, this final drive was the perfect ending of my complete adventure.

There were always obstacles in the way, curve balls thrown in, and chaos to overcome.

But in the End, Zimba and I always pulled through. Because we had no other options.