It was sad to leave the Rooftop B&B in Barkly West. Paul had been a fabulous help and had organised for us to pick up some spares he had recommended from the Mitre shop in Kimberley on our way north.


We managed to leave early and were treated to some wonderful blue sky as we hurtled along the road north . The weather had been overcast since we had left Fish Hoek so this change was most welcome.


We past Vyburg (where we found another great local cafe with a delicacy called “Fat Cakes”), on the N12 to Mahikeng which was to be our stop for an early lunch. This was just the sort of chaotic bustling boarder town I had expected and after only finding a small range of deep fried take away food, we both agreed we would try Nandos for the first time in our lives. We were the only non local faces in this particular branch and the food was surprising good. Everyone was friendly and the manager even came out to welcome us. He celebrated our enthusiasm by turning on the heating, infuriating our neighbours on the adjacent table and my father who was now complaining about the heat. The food was surprisingly tasty although I did notice we were the only customers eating green vegetables.


We then headed off towards the border and my father put the air conditioning on full. Thirty kilometres later we entered the South African formalities which were straightforward. The customs men were friendly and jokey as they examined the vehicle and made fun of me when I said I thought I “could smell burning rubber.” The Botswana side was quick also, but a little more chaotic. Initially we were helped by a friendly local man called Fisher. As we received stamps in our passports, I noticed the immigration lady had only given us a 4 day transit visa. “You are driving straight to Livingstone” she replied. “But what happens if we breakdown” I asked “as this is a large country.”  Fisher even asked, “why not grant them a week?” But she refused saying, “there are plenty of Immigration Offices all along your route if you have problems.”  “Great,” I thought, “I hate getting visa extensions!” 


The road quality did not change too much over the border and we soon found ourselves in the nature park just shy of the capital Gaborone, where I was hoping we would stay the night. Unfortunately all the cheaper accommodation was again full, and as it was getting dark plus I was reluctant to pitch my father’s new larger tent for the first time at night, we decided to change our plans and stay in Gaborone.


The capital city was chaos. No street lights, rush hour traffic, failing traffic lights and a jack knifed lorry ,meant that progress was slow, but we found the guesthouse and managed to get a room. The local area was again devoid of any restaurants except fast food, but we did spy a hotel and grabbed dinner there. The next morning after (a quite frankly revolting) breakfast we resumed the trip north.


Exiting Gaborone in the daylight was much easier than entering at night time, and we were soon clocking up the kilometres. We stopped for petrol and this was when I heard an odd clicking noise in the engine, but we discounted any issues in our newly serviced Honda and ploughed on. At a subsequent stop for lunch again at Nandos (could not find anything else) in Mahalapye, the noise was now much louder. After lunch we lifted the bonnet and a nearby security man came over and said we should get this looked at. He directed us to a local parts shop.


The staff were very helpful at the parts shop and soon recommended a local mechanic. After a quick tour around the back streets we found him working on a car on his sand covered drive. He quickly determined that the air conditioning compressor had a faulty bearing and this was causing the fan belt to make the noise. He suggested that we bypass the compressor, which would have no other effect on the car other than disabling the air con and fit a smaller fan belt. It was difficult to understand his local English, but after several minutes we grasped the gist of the problem. However this easy solution was to be complicated by the fact that Honda do not have any parts available in Botswana. The next few hours were spent trying to locate a small fan belt that would fit. Four belts later our bush mechanic gave up. The size we needed was unavailable in Mahalapye (which was just a small village). So he rigged back the original fan belt onto the faulty air conditioning compressor and said that we could drive to Francistown (200 kms away) and find the correct size of fan belt there, However we must not exceed 80 kms per hour and we must keep the air conditioning on full blast. He then assured us nothing would happen. As the sun was starting to set, we decided to make an early start.


Literally 10 ams outside of Mahalapye, the engine stalled and then jumped on the highway. I pulled over quickly and we were engulfed in thick acrid white smoke. Dad and I jumped out of the car, and I ran to the back to get the fire extinguisher. Next thing I remember was a BMW pulling up alongside and a young man yelling at me to disable the battery. As I started moving the tents in the back to retrieve the fire extinguisher, I tried to explain that it was not the battery that was on fire. I grabbed the extinguisher popped the bonnet and showed him as by this time, he had also pulled over and was out of his car.


In a matter of minutes the fire was gone, the fan belt had snapped and in half, melted and there was coolant all over the highway. things were looking bad. The Botswana man started making some suggestions and then offered to tow us in his new BMW. Both of us were surprised by this generous offer and we managed to ensure the fire was extinguished before hooking up the vehicle. The mechanic in Mahalapye was by now not answering his phone, and Nicholas (the BMW driver’s) seemed unsurprisingly reluctant to tow us back there so we gladly settled on an offer to tow us to Palapye, some 36 kms further on.


In darkness on the one lane highway we proceeded at 40 km per hour. I wrestled with the hardly functioning steering wheels and brakes before we finally arrived in the town. Dad kept a look out for wild and domestic animals plus large potholes. Nicholas gave me his mobile number so we could communicate, which made everything much easier until a small pickup drove onto the highway in front us and Nicholas had to break quickly and the Honda went over the tow rope as I struggled with the handbrake (the foot brake was useless). The tow rope snapped, but Nicholas soon rigged it back up and we entered Palapye. The town turned out to be much bigger than we both had assumed it would be and Nicholas quickly found a hotel on the main road and we both drove in. It was very posh. All the porters came over to untangle us and push our acrid smelling Honda into the car park. We were truly indebted to Nicholas, and I went thanked his wife in the BMW. It turned out they were going away for the night and he had interrupted this to rescue us. I hope we can stay in touch with him.


The hotel was very grand and expensive but as my father said, “we have no choice.”  Luxury was something I was not expecting when we set off from Fish Hoek some four days earlier, but here we were and after a fire and this tow, I slept well. The next morning we started to work to resolve the problem.


I met Solomon, the manager, who gave me the details of a mechanic and towing service in Francistown he had used and after I spoke with them they sent a towing vehicle with a winch. At midday as arranged Miele arrived and hooked up the Honda and off we went in the cabin of the pick up. After two hours we arrived in Francistown.