Learning Some Home Truths Under African Skies

Liam makes it to The Cape…

here are many people in this town and its surrounds who will tell you that they are on a voyage of self-discovery, but few will have gone as far as Liam Lupton-Smith.

It was in September 2024 that the 25-year-old Delgany lad just got up on his bike and headed to South Africa, the original home of father, Bruce.

A journey that took a year. Which is plenty of time for a little self-discovery.

We get the lowdown from the lad himself…

Growing up, I was far more interested in travel books and blogs than studying for my Leaving Cert, so it was only a matter of time before I disappeared on a long journey.

In 2023, I paused my philosophy studies in the Netherlands and decided to cycle from Europe to my father’s homeland, South Africa. After a year of saving, I set off alone with little more than a loose plan. I hitchhiked from Delft to Paris, picking up work along the way building cabins in the French Alps and working vineyards near Lyon, learning enough French to get by before heading on to Spain.

In Valencia, I bought the cheapest mountain bike Decathlon had and handed it straight to a bike shop, trusting them with my wildly naïve plan. While they worked, I camped in a bush on the edge of the city. On 1 October 2024, the bike was ready. Two weeks on the EuroVelo later, I crossed into Morocco. This was the longest I had travelled on a bicycle, and slowly I was getting used of the lifestyle, and building my fitness.

It’s lucky, right…?

Morocco was my first real cultural shock. Despite the differences, I was invited daily into homes for tea. I passed through the historical city of Fes, crossed the Atlas Mountains, and reached the Sahara, camping under the stars. After a rough bout of salmonella, I returned back over the Atlas to Marrakesh, cycled to the coast with a friend, then continued alone south through tail winded Western Sahara and into West Africa.

I explored desert libraries in Mauritania, rode the world’s longest train, cycled along the Gambia River spotting chimpanzees and hippos, and shared Ramadan meals on Casamance beaches with Rasta artists. I crossed cashew country in Guinea-Bissau, pushed through Guinea’s Fouta Djallon highlands (the most beautiful landscapes of my trip!), lived with a Fulani family, and emerged in Sierra Leone, where the scars of civil war were humbling and unforgettable. I partied in the truly free capital, Freetown, before heading deep into the jungle. I met witches searching for diamonds, and kind local tribes painted white, dancing to gospel music by a solar radio in the darkness.

Liberia’s brutal roads and rainy season tested me, but the hospitality never failed. Liberia was the most meaningful experience I had, where I saw the most incredible resilience despite deep trauma and poverty. From Ivory Coast to Ghana, Togo, Benin, Nigeria, and Cameroon, the journey became a rhythm of breakdowns, border chaos, jungle roads, and extraordinary kindness. In Nigeria I met a cycle team who gave me an escort out of Port Harcourt into Calabar. I managed to find a smuggling boat to take me to Cameroon, sitting precariously on top of Nigerian motorbike tyres. We bribed 30 police and military checkpoints on our way out of the cross river estuary before reaching the bottom of mount Cameroon.

Afterward I entered the Congo basin rainforest where I had many adventures. I got stuck in the jungle with no money for 3 days, babysat a rescued chimpanzee, searched for gorillas in the Congo Basin, and watched the Sapeurs dance through the streets of Brazzaville.

Angola became my favourite country—diverse, generous, and deeply welcoming. After the vast emptiness of Namibia and weeks cycling through desert landscapes, I finally reached Cape Town on December 7th, greeted by my family, including my dad Bruce and my mum Eibhlín.

I think I started the trip looking for freedom: the ability to go anywhere, carrying everything I needed on a bicycle and decided what to do on a whim and with my heart. What I found was something deeper, a West African freedom rooted in hospitality and community. I felt a freedom as a stranger in a completely foreign environment. That anywhere I went, I would be looked in the eye and immediately connect as a fellow human, and as part of their community. That generosity carried me across the continent.

Returning to Ireland, I feel a sadness at how a deep fear shapes intense ideologies toward the peoples and cultures that I experienced.

After a year in Africa, without violence or robbery, only kindness, I feel an unshakable faith in people. I hope I can convince others too!