Madagascar

We flew Air Madagascar from Johannesburg to Antananarivo (Tana) enjoying French wine and beer, British gin, Dutch tonic and South African food on the plane. The bike ride into Tana was through rice paddies similar to those around Katmandu, the city road surfaces were as poor as those in the Congo, the traffic pollution like Bangkok or /Bratislava and we ended the day with a fantastic meal at an Indonesian restaurant. Globalization may not have arrived in Madagascar yet, but our arrival day sure felt International.

Over 2 days we went south 340 kilometres via taxi-brousse (bush taxi) which are often Peugot 404 or 505's in varying stages of decay full of passengers in varying states of discomfort. Our mountain bikes were roped on the roof racks (pas de probleme).

Our first challenge was 25 kilometres of 'categoire I' road which turned out to be rocky, hilly, dusty and bloody hot. Traveling at an average speed of 9 kph, we wondered 'why are we here?' and 'why are we on bicycles?'. Then suddenly, tarmac, rain forest and a fantastic river valley appeared and all pain was forgotten and then we arrived at Ranomafana National Park and its lovely campsite.

Sheila was showered with gifts on her birthday including a present from the park warden and with numerous lemur encounters. While standing below a Golden Bamboo lemur (a species only discovered in 1986), Glenn remarked 'If it decides to pee, we're going to get wet". It happened. Instead of a cake and candles, we smeared banana on trees at a feeding-station and were joined by the star attraction of Ranomafana; the energetic, nocturnal mouse lemurs (weighing in at 45 grams). Oh yes, the giraffe weevil joined in the birthday festivities too.

At Ranomafana we met a group of Americans (Jerry, Pam, Blair and Jennifer) who had just completed a rain forest hike in North-East Madagascar and they kindly gave us their surplus food supplies. We left the park with panniers bursting with among other goodies, Gator-ade and Starbucks coffee. With Madagascar awash with bananas and scoring high on the banana index, it was fitting that we also left with banana flavored Jello pudding and dehydrated bananas!

We pedaled down and up a further 150 kilometres to the coast on a paved road that deteriorated the further we progressed, with negligible traffic through mixed bush and farmland (rice paddies, bananas and some coffee). The people are incredibly poor; almost everyone we encountered was barefoot, mostly in rags. The constant smiles and greetings made us feel like the King and Queen of England.

Mananjary has a great beach if you don't mind the sharks or the undertow, so we just ate fish instead. Back up in the highlands (8 hour taxi-brousse ride) at Fianaratsoa, many of the televisions are cabled into a satellite dish owned by the mayor. He is the local media mogul with his channel surfing remote; whatever he selects is what everyone else watches.

From Fianar, it was back on the saddle through a curious mixture of rice paddies and vineyards to Ambalavao, followed by 2 days of scenic riding through more incredibly poor villages and granite mountains to Ihosy. After a big climb powered by Starbucks coffee up onto the Morombe plateau, we picked up a terrific tailwind and thought we had it 'made in the shade'. There is, by the way, no shade in Southern Madagascar. Alas, we hit 40 kilometres of rutted, sometimes corrugated dirt/sandy road. It was surreal: blown along a bad road across a grassy plain dotted with thousands of termite mounds with mountains in the far off distance. It felt like the Bolivian altiplano and we fully expected Indian ladies to pop up wearing bowler hats.

At Isalo National Park, it was more lemurs, lush canyons and great walking amidst the sandstone range. We accepted the generosity of Eric and Alexandra (Lyon, France) and accompanied them to the west coast in their 4WD vehicle. We deprived ourselves of up and down cycling in the blistering heat with water hard to find. Perhaps it was nostalgia or yearning for those days with 'Magnum', the Mazda 4WD, or perhaps it was the flu that knocked Sheila on her back, but it was a sign that we are getting soft.

A few days on the western shores of Madagascar at Ifaty beach (very good French seafood), an unsuccessful 5 hour attempt to fly north to Morondava (space for us but not for our bikes) and we began the grueling return back to Tana. In another nostalgic twist, we took a Tata bus (made in India) for 10 agonizing hours on the first leg. Twin seats are built into the bus aisles requiring a "Rubik's cube" like precision to loading the passengers. As is always the case in Madagascar, 4 people sit where 3 would be a very tight fit. Strangely, bus staff handed out free cokes to all passengers mid-way through the journey while our bikes rode on top with the chickens.

After a dizzy taxi-brousse ride, the constant hounding of 'pousse-pousse' drivers (hand drawn rickshaws) in Antsirabe, we cycled onto Tana. Enroute we were greeted by hundreds of hysterical children who judging by the frenzy must have mistaken us for the Spice Girls.

In Tana, we were no longer chased by armies of adoring fans but we did face a brigade of mozzies in our hotel room. As we were without a mosquito net, we smeared on insect repellent and lighted two 'Big Tox' mosquito coils almost asphyxiating ourselves. On our ride to the eastern edge of Tana, the traffic pollution was probably equal to lighting a whole box full of 'Big Tox' coils in a hotel room. We took a bus 40 kilometres east of the city and purchased an extra ticket enabling us to sit sideways (our legs are apparently longer than the Malagasy standard).

We rode down to the rain forest of Périnet and met up with Esther and Howard (cyclists from Birmingham, England). We all chased Indri, large teddy-bear like lemurs and their peculiar cry, a cross between a whale call, an oboe and the high pitch sound of air escaping from a balloon. The chameleons were spectacular, as were the dwarf lemurs that put on a performance in front of our bungalow one evening.

Just up the road at Andasibe-Matahadia National Park we stayed 2 nights at a 'top ten' campsite. It was amidst an archetypal rain forest with plenty of frogs at the base of a jungle waterfall and beneath an 8 metre tall tree fern. A red nocturnal snake worked in tandem with a mouse, creating a diversion to allow the mouse a chance to grab some of our food. Indri lemurs provided our morning wake-up call so that we wouldn't miss our sightings of Sifaka lemur during the day. A roll of film was damaged later, so we don't have any photos of this beautiful area.

We stayed at a cockroach hotel enroute to the coast. A sandy track led us to Ambila-Lemaitso so that we could swim in the Pangelin Canal, listen to semi-tame lemurs tap dancing on our bungalow roof and chow down some superb seafood at 'Les Alyzés'. Our dinner was so elaborate that we thought it was going to bankrupt us, but it cost no more than average. We almost decided to stay another night for food like that.

At the Ivoloina lemur 'rehabilitation centre', we watched some over anxious Black & White Ruffed lemurs in the kitchen digging through the trash can for mango peels while the rest of the lemurs waited rather impatiently outside.

At this point, the cycling took a turn for the better. The Indian Ocean was on our right. We had frequent fresh coconuts and watermelon slices from roadside vendors in the lush tropical environment. Early starts (6:00 a.m.) permitted afternoons at the beach: this is what all bicycle touring should be like. We liked one spot so much that we stayed 3 nights (Fénérive Est) and enjoyed the beautiful white sand beach and nice bungalows before continuing on.

A 2-hour boat ride brought us to Ile Sainte Marie only to discover that we were late. We were 300 years too late for one of the greatest parties of all time. The island was once a pirate hangout; on one occasion, pirates partied on the contents of a commandeered ship carrying a bellyful of whiskey. 400 died of alcohol excess.

Our Ile Sainte Marie visit may have been a great deal less exciting than a pirate's party, but it had its comical moments. A table cloth caught fire from a banana flambé. A lemur sitting on Glenn's shoulder had a tantrum because Glenn wouldn't share his Coca-Cola. We watched the tree people sitting precariously on branches while they harvested the clove crop. But mostly we just swam, snorkeled, lounged, read, ate seafood and fresh lychees and cycled around the delightful island wishing we had 3 weeks not just 2 weeks on the island.

So our Madagascar trip started out with the somewhat disappointing South, but at the end of our sojourn we wished we could stay longer!

MADAGASCAR: THE REAL STORY

Poverty: this is the most obvious characteristic of the country. Children sift through garbage heaps. The World Bank ranked Madagascar's per capita GNP183 out of 203 countries. It is shocking.

Health Risks: Malaria and Bilharzia thrive. There was a cholera epidemic when we were there. We had no tummy problems. We took Lariam as a malarial prophylaxis with its delightful side effect of lucid dreams. Another Lariam side-effect can be paranoia but we were unaffected by the pink elephants (from Puros Namibia) and the giant green lemurs which always followed us.

Drinking Water: The tap water in many towns is full of all sorts of interesting floating particles. Many village water sources are from dirty rivers.

Eco-tourism: Some of the micro National Parks are overwhelmed, particularly in August, when up to 400 tourists/day descend on Ranomafana chasing after the same lemurs.

Why do tourists go to Madagascar? The French go there in droves because it it's a third world country where they don't have to speak English. Everyone else goes there because they think the French are onto something. Then no one admits that it wasn't terrific after paying all that airfare to get there. It is nevertheless, a unique country.