Malawi

Crossing into Malawi was a massive undertaking including four hours of pointless paperwork at the border crossing. 

Once across the road swept alongside the vast expanse of Lake Malawi - the other shore is quite invisible. There are beautiful sandy beaches here and the road is flat. What’s more, thank god, there are almost no trucks so finally we can make serious progress. And we need to as we have a long way to go until tonight’s hotel. 

But. The road leaves the lakeshore and starts to twist up into the hills. The road surface becomes rough and uneven and our speed drops dramatically. At least Rhubarb and Custard is built for the rough stuff, other cars are in real trouble and one of the Porsche’s breaks it’s rear suspension. 

Now it’s a race to avoid driving in the dark, but we just aren’t quick enough. The sun sets and we have half an hour of twilight before it’s totally dark - not even the moon to help out. 

We had assumed that when darkness came the villagers went to bed but in fact everyone becomes more lively and huge numbers of people are strolling up and down the side of the highway going who-knows-where? It’s terrifyingly dangerous as they are totally invisible until the last moment. 

Our right hand headlight is useless and points up into the sky, illuminating the trees. The left hand one gives us about 15 feet of visibility. Oncoming drivers are on full beam and so are those coming up behind. It’s a nightmare. 

The broken Porsche gives up but somehow a flatbed truck arrives from a nearby village and the spectators at the village football match lift the car up onto the truck. Their fee is £20. 

Finally, at 8pm, we roll into the hotel car park - exhausted. It’s another 10 hour day tomorrow and another border crossing. Shit.