There is time to contemplate how far we’ve come, from Cape Town to Kenya, to the beaches of Mozambique. Jim asked me where I thought we’d be without the Garmin and Traks4Africa – I said “Back home and divorced by now.” We are happily long past the point when every other minute brought on another decision. Tension ran high; that’s what comes of the being way outside your comfort zone. What would we change, now that we have time to think about it? Nothing, really. We couldn’t have taken this overland trip any sooner in our lives and the best time to go is when you go. The route has been successful – we calculated we’ve been on beaches of some sort since November, can’t 
complain about that. Neither of us has been sick. We’ve been through four different coffee presses, five decks of cards and one iPhone as well as countless cans of Peaceful Sleep insect repellent. We will not miss 
the mosquitoes.
There are places to return to and some gaps to fill, next time. Driving Namibia for months gave us a full view of that endless country. Botswana needs another look, hopefully before this trip is over. We’ve already been to Zimbabwe twice and will go back again later this month, so much to see there. Zambia is a favorite, where I am positive we waved to every single person in that friendly country. Tanzania nearly broke the 
bank but with its iconic parks it could not be missed. Zanzibar showed us our first taste of the slavers coast plus powered-sugar white sand beaches. The side trip to Ethiopia, that exotic place, was perfect. Camel 
caravans hauling salt into the sunset – what a scene.
Rwanda – a sobering lesson in humanity. One day we came to a nondescript village and it was time to get out of the truck. A large Genocide Memorial stood out, as in every single town and village. Only this one wasn’t quite finished yet. The very young security guard called an older gentleman to show us around this newly built but empty building. And the blank walls spoke as loudly as any placards. The hollow hallways echoed the footsteps of everyone who would never walk t
here. Finally we found ourselves in a basement containing 38 coffins, displayed neatly as if in a show room. Some had framed photos propped upon them, others had snapshots scotched-taped to them. To our undying surprise, the guide opened a coffin and handed us a small human skull. All these coffins have skulls, he said. At this location a church was bulldozed with thousands of people in it. His children are here, in one of the coffins. He shared his photos of them with us. We thanked him, signed the guest book and drove away. Rwanda; a country where everything is new because there was nothing left.
The primates in Uganda revel in the simplicity of life. We camped, all alone, in the Kibale forest and had a troop of 50+ baboons invade the clearing; they played, groomed each other and goofed off all morning, just having a good time being together. On the eastern side of the country we came to one of our better decisions – we really wanted to drive a certain road to enter Kenya. On the map it looked totally doable. But it was raining. Hard. And pondering the options,
we bypassed that road only to later meet a couple who had taken it; a heart-stopping track, they said “like driving on butter.” We spent a few minutes patting ourselves on the back for not going there. Of course that was prior to being desperately stuck in the mud twice in one week.
Kenya, that most organized of countries, gave us so many new friends. Eldoret town, Lake Turkana, the National Museum, JJs in Nairobi, Samburu Park, the fabulous Twiga and Barefoot beaches, Malindi town – I would go back to Kenya tomorrow. It took days for me to get 
over leaving Twiga; I kept asking myself why we left. But leaving there led us to Malawi and to time spent with our friends Jen and Jared. And on we go; more of Mozambique to see, more Zimbabwe, South Africa and camping with Adrian and Rentia, Swaziland, Lethoso, Botswana . . . where will it end?
Is anybody coming? I ask Jim as I drive onto the highway out of our first campsite in Namibia. Not in the last two days, he says – ha! Welcome to Namibia!
After spending the obligatory two nights in the Kalaghadi Transfrontier Park we are in a new country. We would have spend many more nights in Kalaghadi Park but it is no longer an undiscovered arid transfrontier park. There is no room for us here, the campgrounds and chalets are packed.
Which is funny as you can drive for half a day and only see one vehicle. It takes us 10 hours to cover the 110 kilometers from Two Rivers to Kalaghari Tented Camp, bumping along the track, seeing all sorts of creatures. Two of those 10 hours are spent parked at the 13th borehole. There’s a bit of shade and a good view. I download some photos, read my John Reader book, and Jim takes a nap. You cannot get out of your car. A wildebeest comes by for a drink. 
Birds come and go. I’m not nearly as frantic as in the past to identify every bird I see. We’ve got two years; we will probably see another one of those. How relaxing this is.
We know how lucky we were to have spent over three weeks in KTP in 2013 with Adrian and Rentia – the four of us traveled the length and breadth of it, from Rooiputs to Mata Mata, to Swart Pan and Mabuashahube, an experience not likely to be repeated. It is a fabulous green park this time of year and as a parting gift we have our morning coffee with a male lion lounging in front of us.
Mata Mata is a hot and sleepy border crossing. The South Africans take our firewood – even though it is Namibian hardwood. Go figure. The Namibian border guard is ok with stamping our carnet, but only after I point it out to him. The carnet insures that we will bring the Beagle back to South Africa instead of selling it in some other country. A substantial deposit was put down for the carnet and I’m not risking losing that because a border guard was too lazy to do the stamp. Sometimes you gotta insist. I’m sure there will be more adventures at border crossings.
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