MOTORING DOWN TILE CHELLAS 163 



of water-power for all the light and machinery of 

 the town. I know one Portuguese at least, Senhor 

 Miranda, of Casa Pia, who hopes and waits for 

 better days, but works and helps the town's fortunes 

 and his own in the meantime. 



When I left Lubango for the desert country 

 and Mossamedes, the first part of my journey was 

 over a splendid motor road which ran from Lubango 

 to the rail-head at Ilumbia. This road was 

 wonderful, not only in its surface and gradients, 

 but in the glimpses it gave of the scenery in the 

 Chella Mountains. For nearly SO miles the road 

 passed over hill and dale, by mountain streams, 

 past forest and occasional farm, till we came to a 

 pass in a rampart of the Chellas ; and then down 

 the pass we rode at 20 miles an hour. Our motor- 

 bus was greatly overfull and dangerously over- 

 loaded, but the Portuguese driver cared not a 

 rap for that, nor, I believe, did the passen- 

 gers, men and women. Would the brakes hold ? 

 Well ! That had to be seen. We had been late 

 in starting, and ahead lay the bi-weekly train. 

 One forgot weak brakes and possible disaster in 

 the glory of the view. 



The road twisted and turned down the steep 

 paths ; often on one side was sheer cliff and on 

 the other a precipice ; sometimes we saw the 

 peaks of the Chellas above, at others the great 

 arid plain below ; here was a wondrous waterfall, 

 there a verdant valley ; and every view seemed 

 beautiful. At last we swung round a corner, and 

 there in the lowest valley lay the little railway 

 station and the little tov train. 



