SOUTH AFRICA.

You know that feeling when something you've planned for months is suddenly happening? That's exactly how we felt pedaling out of Cape Town. Nervous energy fizzing through our veins, we couldn't stop grinning at each other like "Is this really happening? Are we actually doing this?"

After being stuck in Cape Town for three weeks longer than planned (luggage drama - don't ask), we were itching to hit the road. With Namibia's heat creeping up by the day, we decided to power through South Africa faster than we'd originally planned. We whizzed up the country in just 10 days, looking back, I wish we'd lingered there for longer.

We stuck to the coastal route - partly for safety, partly for those jaw-dropping ocean views. The turquoise water stretching to the horizon became our constant companion. On a whim, we detoured through West Coast National Park, which turned out to be one of our best decisions.

"Terrapins!" Saoirse would shout, pointing excitedly at wildlife that seemed to appear out of nowhere, quickly fumbling for her camera before they scurried away. We spotted ostriches strutting about and ate lunch in a bird hide, which felt magical. Though I'll admit, every wild wee became a nerve-wracking experience - the constant fear of getting bitten on the bum by a cobra is real.

The roads were a treat. Baby-smooth tarmac that felt like cycling on clouds. And the drivers? Lovely! About 90% of vehicles passing us would give an encouraging toot or wave, which was such a morale boost when we were melting in the midday heat. Even the massive trucks would give us plenty of space and flick their hazards on to say hi. A world away from the white-knuckle cycling experience back home in the UK, and a total contrast from the stories of danger and violence we’d heard about South Africa. We were pleasantly surprised.

Whilst we improved through the trip, our mornings were comically inefficient, particularly when camping. We were covering so much mileage that we were cream crackered at the end of the day, but to beat the heat we needed to get up before dawn. It wasn’t long before we were burning out. To keep us on track we established "soft" and "hard" leaving times - the soft time being when our idealistic selves thought we'd leave, and the hard time being our absolute deadline. Spoiler: we never once hit the soft time. We're "faffletes", not athletes!

South Africa was experiencing a record-breaking heatwave during our visit - CLASSIC. We developed a system to keep ourselves cool: start early, wet EVERYTHING and pray. By 11:30 each morning it was too hot to ride unless we wanted to spontaneously combust. The heat reflecting off the tarmac gave me a tomato face and gorgeous freckle moustache. A. Vibe.

When the heat became unbearable we'd dive into the nearest roadside shack, often wooden structures standing alone in the middle of nowhere. We'd camp out on their front decks, slithering into any available shade until the worst had passed.

The landscape transformed as we headed north - from glittering coastline and vast, dusty stretches alongside railway tracks, to rocky boulder fields in the north. And hills. So. Many. Hills. South Africa is deceptively hilly, and some days felt like one endless climb after another. Thank god for Sudocrem!

South Africans have to be the most hospitable people I've ever met. Everywhere we went, someone was inviting us to join them for a braai. I lost count of how many times we ended up sharing meals with complete strangers who quickly became friends.

One evening, as dusk was falling, we were frantically searching for accommodation when a couple pulled up beside us. "Are you lost?" they asked. When we explained our situation, they exchanged a quick glance, nodded, and invited us to stay with them. The only condition? We had to share stories and drink wine with them. It took us about a nanosecond to say yes.

Our last town before Namibia was Steinkopf, where we stayed at a 200-year-old guesthouse owned by Letitia. The moment we met her, she wrapped us in one of those hugs that makes all your muscles relax at once. Her place was a haven for everyone - even the neighborhood cats who weren't technically hers but "just come here" because they felt the same warmth we did.

Letitia shared her story of rebuilding her life after losing everything, her wisdom striking a chord with me. "You can't let the bad things in life break you," she told us. "You have to use it and make something new."

The next morning, as we prepared to cross into Namibia, Letitia was baking bread for her church group. Of course, she carefully packaged some for our journey.

As we pedaled toward the border, I couldn't help but reflect on how South Africa had surprised us. We'd come seeking adventure but found so much more - kindness in unexpected places, strength in challenging conditions, and a country that had thoroughly captured our hearts.

NAMIBIA

Cycling through the Namibian landscape is a humbling experience. At over 50 million years old, this desert is considered the oldest on earth. Snaking between burnt orange dunes and jagged, rocky peaks that have been sculpted by wind for millions of years made me reflect on how ancient the planet is, of all the people and animals who’ve roamed these sands long before me, and how small I am in comparison.

Sunsets in Namibia are especially awe inspiring. Each night I would settle down in the sand with and marvel at the dramatic display of colour; the soft pastel pinks of the desert turning fiery orange and scarlet as the sun sank beneath the horizon. Something about the sunsets here feel different; more powerful, sharper. But the sunset is just the first act, after the sun goes down the stars emerge. I spent many nights watching the stars dancing and twinkling above my tent, wondering how many others who’ve existed here looked at the same stars, too?

As an introvert, I relished the desert's solitude. Hours would pass with nothing but the crunch of gravel under my tires (and my heavy breathing). Our days were long and the terrain was tough, after smashing it through South Africa fatigue was creeping in. The vast stretches between settlements meant planning was crucial, particularly where to find water. I was drinking around 7 litres a day on the bike and liked to have a couple extra at camp, fortunately, we encountered a few tourists along the way who stopped to offer us ice cold water from their coolers - heaven!

Despite its arid conditions, Namibia is teeming with wildlife. Oryx’s, zebras, springboks and ostriches are a regular sight - they’ve adapted to survive with minimal water. Namibia is also home to more ‘exciting’ animals like leopards, cheetahs, hyenas and lions, so we did have to be careful but luckily, the lions hang out further north. Most of the landscape in Namibia is fenced off so the wildlife doesn’t come onto the road too often. Though one morning, I spotted some suspicious prints in the sand. A quick photo and chat with a local expert confirmed – cheetah tracks!

Given the remoteness and heat of Namibia, prioritising safety was imperative which meant reassessing and changing plans. We had ambitions to do a famous road called the D707 which is notoriously beautiful (often referred to as the most beautiful road in Namibia) and brutal in equal measure. It’s 200km of exposed landscape; deep sand, zero resupply and no shelter.

Both Saoirse and I had excitedly gotten everything ready, fitting our bikes with as much food and water as we could carry. That morning, Saoirse set off before me and I was around 30 minutes behind her. After a while I noticed a car on the horizon. After a few miles I could make out the shape of a cyclist and 3 people, one of them had to be Saoirse. The closer I got I realised she was sitting in the trunk of the vehicle downing some water and immediately I recognised the other two as Sarah and Michael, a honeymooning couple who’d stopped to give us water a few days previously. Turns out, Saoirse had thrown up and by some stroke of luck, Sarah and Michael happened to be driving past.

Saoirse brightened up a bit so we said farewell to Michael and Sarah and continued on the journey, but within 20 minutes Saoirse had been sick again (and we hadn’t even reached the entrance to the D707).

Now, we were under the midday sun with zero shade and no one around for miles. We made a makeshift shelter with our tarps against a fence and we waited for a passing car, who knows how long it would be. Around an hour later a white pick up truck came hurtling down the road, I ran towards them waving my arms and hoping they’d see me. They did. Thankfully, they agreed to take us to the next campsite where Saoirse could rest and get some fluids. Once there we asked the campsite owner about the D707 and whether we should do it, she advised us not to. She said ‘This is the wrong time of year, it’s coming into summer. We have many fatalities on that road and I fear you would be one of them’. Another man pointed into the desert and said ‘you see that red sand over there? That’s where my best friend died. He thought he could walk it but the sun was too strong. The desert is a dangerous place’.

After some deliberation, we decided not to do it. It’s tricky knowing when to take heed of other people's advice, many times i’ve been told I shouldn’t do something and really, it’s been a fear based projection from the other person because they believe THEY can’t do it, or it's gender bias. However, this felt like advice we should take seriously, after all, the locals know best and given the rising temperatures, Saoirse’s condition and our lack of experience, to me, it felt reckless to continue.

It was tough letting go of the plan and the allure of ‘the most beautiful road in Namibia’ but there’s a fine line between adventuring with calculated risk and being reckless. For me, this was the line.

We continued through the desert stopping at the iconic Deadvlei and Solitaire, home to petrified trees thousands of years old and a cool car junk yard with world famous apple cake, all the way to the coast where we finished our Namibian section with some beers and a big sleep.

Along the way I had some incredible encounters with wildlife including a herd of wild zebra running alongside me as I descended a long gravel track through the NamibRand Nature Reserve, finding a brown hyena by my tent one night and encountering a gorgeous farm puppy who followed me through the desert for 4 hours until I hitched him a ride back with a lovely couple called Iva and Stephan, also on their honeymoon. Thank god for dog lovers, eh?

As we prepared for Botswana, I reflected on how these two countries had already transformed us - South Africa with its unexpected kindness, Namibia with its ancient beauty and harsh lessons in respecting nature's power.

Look out for more instalments from Abby soon.