The train we took from Tabora across Tanzania to Dar es Salaam was of the old 1950s rolling stock, and not in the best of shape. But at least it got us there safely and reasonably on time! We figured that this time we were getting the 1970s cars, and that we’d arrive in Mbeya at a thoroughly safe time of day.
We were wrong on both counts.
At the station in Dar, we entered the cavernous departure hall and relaxed a bit. Remember, we’d been moving since 0700 on Zanzibar, first with a taxi and then a ferry. We were on time for our 1350 overnight train to Mbeya, so there was no need to stress.
Dave went out on the balcony for a smoke and I followed him. While we were out there, they locked the doors.
We, along with dozens of other ticketed passengers, were stuck outside as the minutes to departure time ticked away. We tried going around, downstairs back to the terminal entrance, but the doors were locked there too. It made no sense and we couldn’t get a straight answer from anyone. We were trying not to panic when at 1350, the departure time, suddenly the doors opened and everyone flooded the terminal. We joined the throng and made our relieved way to the platform.
Surprise! Instead of the 1970s cars we expected, we were riding in brand new 2016 Chinese carriages. They were well-appointed and modern, a far cry from the Tabora train.
Our 4-bed couchette was just as nice and even came with linens.
We departed only a bit late and I set myself up in the lounge car to have a beer and work on my photos and blog (each one of these takes me 4+ hours).
I’m sure I’ve mentioned African sunsets before…
As this was an overnight train to Mbeya, we stayed up pretty late drinking the last Safaris we’d get, perhaps ever, and goofing around.
Sleep was surprisingly comfortable for a train, and after a nice breakfast in the restaurant car I posted up with my laptop in the lounge again. I figured we’d arrive by early afternoon, get to the hotel before it got dark.
Tanzania kept offering up gorgeous views as we rolled our way south.
One of our stops went on a bit long. Like, 3-4 hours long. It turns out our engine had broken down and we were awaiting rescue with a replacement. Eventually it arrived and we got underway, but the sun was getting low in the sky and we had another long travel day planned tomorrow…
9 hours late, we rolled into Mbeya and piled off the train.
We hired a taxi to take us into town, all the way to our hotel. Instead, we took a wrong turn and ended up on a very overgrown dirt road between some dark houses. Google maps was no help. I don’t remember exactly how but we found the guesthouse and finally staggered into our room at something like 2300 and conked out for what would be just 5 hours until our alarms went off.
And sure enough at 0500 we were on a big metal “bus level 1”, like a cross between a minibus and a coach, for the 2.5 hour drive to the Songwe border crossing into Malawi.
We’d heard some horror stories about this being one of the more dangerous crossings we’d attempt, but changing money and actually getting over the border went smoothly.
We wandered down the rows of lorries looking for the bus stand.
The original plan was to stay a night in Karonga in the north of Malawi, but we were still trying to make up time so decided to push through to Nkhata Bay if we could. We found a friendly stranger who guided us to our chariot: a 3 hour minibus ride to Karonga.
Remember, minibuses are cramped and often overcrowded. Sometimes they have no shock absorbers at all. The temperature is usually awful and you have to sit awkwardly to fit. So you can imagine how we felt getting onto the first minibus knowing that if it went well there was a 4.5 hour one to Mzuzu right on its heels.
Karonga didn’t look terribly interesting as we passed through, so we felt vindicated in our choice to skip it.
The next minibus to Mzuzu was driven by an amateur racer with a death wish, I believe. He sped up mountain roads like we were being stalked by a gang of vicious rabid babboons with a taste for supple young driver flesh.
There were even cautionary road signs put up, I’m morally certain, specifically for him.
He wasn’t the only one burning up the mountain. Some farmers were literally torching fields and mountainsides — the smoke was thick and suffocating.
To everyone’s surprise, we arrived safely in Mzuzu.
It was just a shared taxi now (ride number 5 today) and we were in Nkhata Bay. It was time for a well-earned beer.
Next time: water pixies and adventurous Kenyans