We had heard such wonderful stories about the Mozambique Coast and the plentiful and delicious seafood, that we continued down the coast to a place called Vilanculos.

If you can imagine Mozambique is a little bit like Spain was in the late 50’s early 60’s. There is very little acknowledgement to tourism other than the fact that the roads have just a little tar on them, but this make it all the more quaint. If you ever want to visit beaches of pristine white sand, and no people this is definitely the place.

A couple of nights we spent at the Bluewater Camp and Lodge run by some very helpful South African people..

I now have the mickey take finely honed and South Africans are the chief butt. The owner of the site asked us if there was any further information we wanted, and I asked very politely if he had the time could he give us a run down on all the medals South Africa won at the Olympics.

We stayed 3 nights and left after the locals wanted 80 US each to take us to a local island for the day. Did I say there was no acknowledgement to tourism.

From Vilanculos it was but a short drive to Morongoru Bay where another lovely site right on the beach awaited us.

This time we were approached by a local fisherman and I ordered two crayfish for the next day. When they arrived my heart sank because they were about twice as big as anything I had seen before and as well as providing 8 meals they simply would not fit into any pans that we had. If you can imagine how overstuffed with Turkey we all get at Christmas, we did the same with Crayfish….grilled, curried rissoled, omeletted and sandwiched.

Although the beaches are perfect at this time of year there is a persistent strong wind which we headed South to try to avoid.

Inhambane was about 150k South and a quaint little town it was surrounded by magnificent windy beaches. This is the centre of the diving fraternity and full of South African Scuba Divers. The wind however at this time of year makes for poor diving, but when we woke up one morning to what looked like a mill pond of a sea we immediately signed up for an Ocean Safari. I like the Company we were diving with and it was called Liquid Adventures, and its marketing strapline was “Make all your dreams wet ones”

Our deal was to visit the Hump Backed whales and to swim with Mantas, Dolphins and Whale Sharks. They did not renege on their promise as we got close up to the Whales, but by the time we were to swim with the Whale Sharks the wind had got up and the Sea had about a 5 foot swell on it. I thought it was downright dangerous as all our swimmers dispersed overboard and immediately became invisible in the heavy swell. It was all very well Janet and I having 20 foot monsters swimming underneath us but I personally could see very little as my snorkel kept a plentiful supply of sea water going into my lungs and Janet was too busy barfing into the briny to take any notice whatever of the giant sharks. Worse was to follow as I had to be helped back into the boat by a couple of 26 year old girls. Their looks articulated more disdain than a simple derisory “come on Grandad” could have possibly done.

The final humiliation came when the Rubber Duck beached. It was somewhat reminiscent of an SAS beach landing as the boat (to miss the worst of the surf) raced directly to shore only to be stopped when the keel grounded, and the two pensioners propelled forward like Volvo crash dummies.

It was an early night for us after all this excitement, and despite our pathetic performance we are still somewhat revered by the youth of the camp for our sagacity and wisdom. After a couple of serious thefts from the camp (one a pretty expensive motor bike) our counseling services and our shoulders to cry on in the absence of mum were in great demand, as was our medical knowledge in treating a poor Israeli girl stung by a Bluebottle jellyfish.

Also now I come to think of it we are famed amongst travelers for our counseling skills, having patched up a number of couples suffering from marital burn out, a condition caused by being no more than 6 feet away from your spouse for a period of 2 months or more.

It is of course all down to communication, defined by Professor John Adair as “The onward transmission of messages which achieve the purpose for which they are transmitted”. Adair makes the valid point that de facto if the message does not achieve its purpose then it is the fault of the communicator NOT the person who is communicated to.

Thus if the message “Turn left here” does not result in a sinister, and immediate change of direction then somehow it is my fault according to this dubious professor. And yet upon reflection there is a high degree of non clarity attached to that simple piece of communication, and critically it has been made without checking the hormone levels of the recipient. As many of us have come to realize these levels can render left as right and here as requiring a severe emergency stop. …….* Special Note from the Editor……and from the Number 1 driver.  I sympathise with anyone who had to work with Chris if this is the kind of written rubbish you had to put up with.

Still the great thing is that Janet and I really do understand each other, and the biggest compliment either of us has received came from a German and Portuguese couple who christened our van “The Caravan of Love”

From the action of watersport we took it esy for 3 days, in a resort, on an inland lagoon. The wind died down and the beach was equally empty, and the shellfish equally abundant. In the middle of such opulent eating, I cannot understand why my body keeps telling me it wants some MacDonalds.