July 6 – 10 2016

The third law of physics states that every action has an equal and opposite reaction. I take this to mean…get moving and things will happen….not in a positive or negative way…but rather, just something.  Make some action.  It’s just physics…right?

After being on Ile Saint Marie for 4 days, I was ready to get moving again. Nosy Be simply means “big island” in Malagasy. It is the largest island in the archipelago in the northwest part of the country and located about 5 miles off the coast. I spent a night in Hell Ville (yes that is the name of the main city on Nosy Be and sort of appropriate) to get my bearings but I was quickly ready to see the gems of this part of the country. If Ile Sainte Marie was Florida (beautiful sandy beaches and clear water), Nosy Be was Hawaii (beautiful sandy beaches, BIG HILLS and canyons, and warm clear water).

First order of business, explore the road that circumnavigates the island and then find a place to sleep somewhere along the coast. The road, approximately 80km, has numerous peaks that jut up from the middle of the island. The tallest one is Mont Passot, 854m. It is a tourist site with a newly paved road to the top and panoramic views of Nosy Be and its surrounding islands, and numerous volcanic formed lakes on the interior. The climb itself of about 8 km with multiple pitches of 10%+ grade, when combined with an 80lb bike, translates to: settle in for a war. Several vehicles sputtered by, their engines and transmissions groaning under the load of the climb. With each vehicle that passed I was looked at with stares of confusion and stupidity. “You know, there’s a bruesse, right? I imagined them asking. Little did they know that I was staring back at them, with precisely the same look, for being in a vehicle and missing out on my experience.

I reached the summit at 10 a.m., 3 hours since I left Hellville. Next: descend back to the coast to a town named Andilana for some beach time and a place to sleep. One last check of the map to see the route to Andilana…hold on. I noticed a faint line intersecting the main road just before the summit. I recalled seeing a small, one lane, grown over dirt path about 200m down the road but figured it was just a driveway. Upon looking closer at the map, it did indeed connect to the main road. It should be stated that on the map, this “path” is denoted with a dotted line, next to the bright and bold yellow line of the road that I am on…simply stating that this truly is a path (although I have no idea how it is on the map?) I asked the attendant at the tourist office if I could descend this path to the main road? “Too dangerous.” she replied. “Stay on main road.” Intrigued by this, I thanked her and spun down to the path for a closer look and better decision making. The map definitely showed that it connected. Definitely. The map has not been wrong yet. I started pedaling and 100m in, I came across a tour group of 4 people on ATV’s. The guide did not speak English but a member of the group did. I showed the guide my map and pointed down the path, inquisitively, showing him that it does connect to the main road. Definitely. He emphatically communicated through the other gentleman, but the word I heard, clearly, was “dangerous”. Sure enough his message was that the path was too dangerous, especially on a bicycle and in fact they were turning their ATV’s around now. “The path is broken. There are rocks, holes. Not many people and none will speak English or be able to help you.” Yikes! This seemed a bit dramatic, especially since every Malagasy person that I have met thus far has been overwhelmingly kind and helpful, but nonetheless is convinced that simply riding my bicycle around the country is “too dangerous”. Decision time: One route and the rest of my day is known, and I’ll be on the beach by 11a. The other route, and my day is completely unknown. What’s the worst that can happen? I have to pedal back up if I hit an impasse? The path definitely connects…definitely. Jump.

Initially there was the occasional rock in the middle of the trail, painted yellow, letting me know I was on track. The first 1km was a mellow descent along a mostly good dirt path convincing me that this was going to be easy…and it was…until it wasn’t. Gradually the path narrowed to single track, then to a broken foot path, through the woods, over rocks…and then no path. Familiar scenario. I came to a grassy field where a couple boys were grazing their 2 dozen cattle. I stopped to look at the map. Still on. They looked at me with astonishment. Where did you come from and why? Their look indicated. I greeted them with “Salam!” and perplexedly, they replied back as I pedaled through the field, phone in hand, trying to navigate to a path that just wasn’t there. I got through the field, around a tree, and there was the path. Still on. I continue pedaling, see the occasional yellow painted marker, and think once again, that this will be no problem. The path begins to descend again, getting rockier, with some significant slaps and drops. The confidence that I have in my steel framed Surly Karate Monkey mountain bike is inspiring me to ride everything, even with 50lbs of gear and water attached to it.

Map check. I’m off? WTF? I didn’t see any junctions. I turn around pedal my bike 100m up the battle field that I just descended. Grrrr… I encounter another man. “Andilana?” I inquire while pointing down the hill. “Andilana???” he replies back, eyes popping out of his head. He makes a whistling sound, the kind you would hear when some one would say, “Yeah, that’s a doozy” out of astonishment. He makes a circular movement with his arms indicating to continue back up the path and wrap around the peak to the left. I look at the map and, yup, that made sense. Twenty minutes of battle later, I reach the meadow I was just in and continue left, although I still do not see the turn I missed. Instead, I continued pedaling and followed the map with blind confidence. There it was. A yellow rock. Then another. Then a path. Who mapped this and how is this correct? It just was.

The rest of the descent went without a hitch as I descended a sometimes flowing, sometimes rocky footpath…the entire time pointing toward the allure of the deep, blue sea.

An hour later, I was back on pavement, feeling ecstatic from the result of the choice I had made. I pedaled the final 10 km to Andilana. It is a small village with not many food or lodging options but is known as the best coastal beach village on Nosy Be. I made a couple passes then finally settled on the least deserted hotel / restaurant. I walked through the empty lobby, calling for anyone who might be working. I found my way to the back of the building where a few tables were set up. This I where I met Chloe, the only person there. Chloe is an American, from Alaska, currently living in South Africa, who has been traveling for several years. She has a warming personality and adventurous spirit. She arrived in Madagascar that day for the purposes of getting a master scuba certification over the next month. A couple of hours of banter, some lunch, coke, and beers later, we were fast friends and she invited me to do a private dive the following morning with her. I have been scuba diving exactly 2x, in Mexico, 14 years ago, nearly to the day. It was not on my list of things to do, but this part of Madagascar is world renowned for its diving, and since I didn’t really plan to be in Madagascar anyway, or much less Nosy Be, why not? When the world presents you with an opportunity, the right thing to do is accept it. This has just been the basis of my entire trip in Africa. It’s just physics, right?

The dive operators were a late 20-something British couple who had purchased a dive shop several years ago. They were happy to take on a new friend and $60 seemed fair. At 8 a.m. we boarded the boat and zoomed 8km off shore. I was given a 10 minute basic refresher. We then flipped backwards out of the boat into 84 degree, crystal clear, tropical water, 12m down, exploring the reef and all of its inhabitants. Even though I have only been diving, now 3x, I have never had any anxiety in the water. There is just something so peaceful and calming, being under the water, exploring a new world. Time just stands still.   The colors. The flow. After 45 minutes, we surfaced. Permagrin. Madagascar just keeps it coming.