The 5 Rivers of the Caprivi - We're finally in the Caprivi

Now, don’t get me wrong – I loved the cleanliness and comparative organisation of Botswana, but this is where we were heading.

6th August - We left Drotsky’s relatively early, stopped in Shakawe to fill up the cars and the fridges, had breakfast on the side of the road, and headed for Namibia.
The Mohembo Bridge Border post being the crossing point. There are those of us that have experienced African and International Border crossing and tend to face them with a degree of trepidation and resignation. As with Stockpoort / Parrs Halt (from SA), Mohembo (Botswana) and Muhembu (Nambia) were an absolute pleasure, despite the fact that the lady on the Botswana side was less than thrilled to serve us (maybe she was sad that we were leaving). We were welcomed with open arms in Namibia, even the police that passed us through were incredibly friendly and welcoming. What a really nice experience. There is no doubt that, generally, Africans are a pleasant, friendly and open people. It’s just a pity that we have to experience the obnoxious and greedy minority who seem to make it into government and youth leagues. Directly after the border post we went through the Mahango Game Park – a good dirt road for about 25 Kms – with signs admonishing us to be careful of elephants crossing. We were to see a lot of these (signs) throughout the trip and despite keeping a watching eye, saw huge amounts of elephant shit on the main roads, but never the factories themselves.

A nice, winding and sandy turn off and we arrived at Ngepi camp (or for Di – Ngwepi). Whoo hoo – another river and a camp that just shouted “sense of humour” and fun. One sign proclaimed – “we love our grass and our children – please don’t park on either”. This camp is well established on the banks of the Kavango River. This river pretty much turns into the Okavango River, but the feel of it is completely different. I need to clarify, it possibly is the Okavango River referred to differently and we preferred it to be different ‘cos it felt different. If not, then my blog would have been entitled “The 4 Rivers of the Caprivi” and we would have lost something. What, I don’t know, but something. I will point out at this stage, that the poet in Derek and I had decided that each river had a different “texture and personality”. I think Nes and Di just rolled their eyes at this, and let us continue with our delusions of sensitivity towards nature. I guess our hypothesis on Hippo Whispering has us on a roll. I have spent some time on that thought, and will give my summary at the end.

If you have read the other blogs, you will know without me telling you, that we arrived at 2:30. That is the success of conditioning, and a small step towards me becoming emperor of the world.

We managed a site on the river bank, with our own grass patch under the trees, own kitchen and wash up place, own fireplace (and an old Makora for seating) right on the river - with access to really eclectic showers and toilets. Home from home – wonderful. Oh yes – I forgot, there was a pub, a wonderful pub, but first things first. First the discussion and then the erection – with the openings of our sleeping areas overlooking the river.
What to do next? It was warm, it was calm, let’s just chill. Which is what we did. I fished while the others dozed, lost two lures to pesky trees and one to a very big bite. Anyway, nothing new, just another body of water to make a mockery of my fishing prowess. This was followed by something that I was getting good at – drinks next to the pool at the main buildings, with a little bit of shopping at the same time. For those that know us, you will have noticed that this is the 1st time that I’ve mentioned shopping for anything other than food, which is a feat in itself for Nes. If we’re honest with you though, this wasn’t because of any higher decision or self discipline on her behalf. There had simply been no places to shop before this.
That night heralded a superb dinner and night around the fire. The consummate evening in the open, accompanied by various beverages (and stray dogs, which Nes was determined to fatten up before we left). The stars were out and bright, and the moon was getting fuller by the night. The full moon had been planned as a climax to our trip. I do believe that we got a little tiddly.
7th August - I woke up in the morning to the most amazing sunrise, with a light mist floating above the glassy, easy moving river. What an amazing sight. I know that there are many of us that see the sunrise on a daily basis, going to work, and that they are, to a great extent, ignored. You forget that this type of thing is still available to us, and it is such a privilege to be able to bear witness to it.

It was to be a fairly busy day today, so we packed and prepared brunch. We were going to see Popa Falls, take a tour through Mahongo Game Reserve and then do a trip up the river in Makoras. So we got going.
Another little human glitch in finding the falls, but to quote Derek, “when on holiday, there is no such thing as a wrong turn – it’s another experience that you otherwise wouldn’t have had.” In that “glass half full vein” I always resolve to report positively, and will do so here. There is a community run campsite at the falls, in such a prime position, that it is easily apparent at just how big an opportunity is being missed at this, the only occurrence of its kind on this river.
The falls themselves, well, you see, they’re not really falls at all, but some really attractive rapids on the river, with a total drop of about 3 metres.

If you were expecting rivals to any of the well known falls you would have been disappointed. But, let’s put this in perspective – a drop of 3 metres in a land that is essentially flat might well be seen to be substantial. Then again, maybe not.

Okay, been there. Now for the game reserve – about 20Km’s in the other direction. The people at the gate were really helpful, pleasant and informative. We proceeded slowly along the Kavango River – a lovely drive – and saw some game. Not the elusive cat, but we did see Elephant (1), Roan and Sable antelope and our 1st sight of the Red Lechwe, as well as some wonderful bird life on the river. These parks are great, they tell you to be careful, but you are able to leave the car and have lunch or snacks in spots. We stopped under an amazing old Baobab tree. Time for our Makora ride was drawing near and we had one more spot to see, a borehole, where we had been told that we might see more interesting game. This borehole wasn’t that close, but we felt it was worth a try. When we got there, nothing!! In hindsight – of course, we were never going to see anything. This was quite possibly the fastest and noisiest game drive I’ve even been on. Given that we had limited time, the vehicle was roaring through the bush at pace. Animals had plenty of warning to get the hell out of there – and it appears that they did.

Back at Ngepi we climbed into the Makoras. Geez, but these things were wobbly, not all that fast, and we knew for a fact that this river had hippos and crocs in. We had heard them, we had seen them and now we were going to go swim (hopefully not) with one of the most feared African animals. Top that with the fact that we couldn’t converse with our paddler. For the duration of the trip, he keep up a never ending chatter, with occasional words that we could understand interspersing, what appeared (and smelled) to be, his dagga induced ramblings. Good thing he could paddle though. “Swish (paddle), wiii fwd b eeer (white fronted bee eater), swish – and so on”.

We stuck to the shallows, and paddled like hell across the deep water. On the journey, we came very close to large pods of hippos, snorting and wallowing in the water, and stopped and observed them. I’m pretty sure that they were observing us as much as we were observing them. Let me tell you, I have never been that close to any Hippo that wasn’t in a Zoo. They look so benign and their appearance belies their fearsome reputation. However, the speed at which our Makora guides paddled over the open water seemed to support that reputation. To top it, there was also a sighting of a pretty substantial croc, though we never got that close. We stopped on a small, sandy island in the middle of the river for drinks, where the one articulate guide recounted some tales on how locals grew up and were married, and on the legend of how Popa falls got its name. More hippos on the way back, but now that we knew where we were, were able to focus a little more on the diverse birdlife in the reeds and on the small islands. We had also got to the point that we were able to understand a little more of what the guide was saying – it turned out that he was actually naming the bird breeds, but it did still take some innovative thinking to catch them. I cannot even begin to recount what a “green backed Heron” sounded like.
We got back uneaten and unattacked. We did feel that this was worth celebrating at the bar with a couple of beers and then to load some wood for the fire onto my roof rack. Did I mention that I love my car? Can’t remember what we ate that night, but I do know that it was another magnificent evening and that we had a fire and that one stray returned to receive more TLC.8th August – We’re on the road again. This time a longish drive through the Bwabata National Park – again being told to be careful of elephants, and again seeing none – through Kongola to Camp Kwando. (Tell me Kwando, Kwando, Kwando … sang we, not sounding anything like Dean Martin – or whoever it was) There was about 40 Km along the most amazingly white sand road – the dust got in everywhere. At the end my car looked white – oh, that’s right – it is. This time there was definitely a Garmin error. Their waypoint was about 7 km’s off and this had us on the wrong track for a while. We’ll be sending the correction to them (seriously – they were wrong) We had to revert to the time honoured tradition of finding your way – we asked someone.

Arrival at Camp Kwando at around 2:30 (what else) – oh look, a pub, a very nice pub right on the lazy Kwando River. To hell with tradition, let’s grab a beer. On the way we had stopped to offer some other travellers some assistance. We met these same travellers there and this resulted in us getting a free drink. A couple later, a huge campsite and a longer than usual discussion – possibly prompted by a few beers. What should we do now – I know – let’s chill. We were to be here for 3 nights, the longest stay anywhere on the trip. Drinks and another great evening for a fire.
The hippos were heard all night, and we all had are chance to answer. Derek awoke, complaining of the sound of anvil bats in the trees – Nes and I never noticed a thing. 9th August – A huge, leisurely breakfast and our first shot at baking our own bread. This may be qualified as a fair success – the outside was crisp (black) – the inside stunning. Well - we’ve learned something. Chilling was definitely on the cards today. Nes and Di lay at the pool and later in the morning we decided to go for a drive in the nearby Mudumo National Park.

This was a great drive and we enjoyed the outing, but again, game was a little sparse. We did, however, become aware that there appeared to be a helluva lot of water around, many of the tracks being cut off by the river flowing into the flood plains. They had clearly had great summer rainfalls. Although we saw plenty of sign of game, we have to assume that the availability of water gave them freedom to roam. We saw some buck, warthogs and Zebra, and plenty of sign of elephant, but no elephants themselves. This was a really attractive park, and you were able to stop in a couple of place to get out and explore – which we did. The downside of no lions is the upside of being able to do this.
The afternoon was devoted to chilling in the shade or on the beds. I went down in Derek’s estimation when I rinsed off my car. That evening we sat on deck of the restaurant, enjoyed a few beers and witnessed yet another lazy African sunset over the river. I could really get used to this. Kwando’s rhythm really suited us at this stage.
Another fire. We had really felt the need to support the local community by buying wood from them – and we had to use it. 10th August – Up early, we’d booked a morning Tiger fishing (I hear you giggle hysterically at the thought, given our success to date). Off we went, with a dog for company, on a boat more than big enough for us. This time even Di didn’t bother with fishing – so that must give you some idea. Three things were borne out for us by the guide;
· This was the highest that this river had been for something like 50 years and that this was playing havoc with the fishing. The fish had too much food and were leaving the normal channels for the smaller side channels. (so we had an excuse) · That Hippos are bloody dangerous and had a tendency to attack the boat. “If I shout sit, you sit. Don’t ask questions” was the instruction.
· That the Germans are the worst tourists to look after, followed by the French and Swiss. We asked as we had started noticing this tendency in our travels.
We went quite a long way up the Kwando, and drifted back slowly, just flicking lures uselessly into the river. Lovely sunny day, a bit windy, but incredibly relaxing and chilled. The water was clear and flowing well. It was that clear that I saw a Pike following my lure and then leaving it, determined to leave us catchless. The guide then nabbed a Nembwe – a little like a large mouth Bass, and this triggered great excitement, followed closely my more useless lure tossing. The wind had slowed our drift somewhat, so we started the motor and trolled back. By this time, even Derek had given up. Then, wham, I got a bite. I was so excited that I just winched the thing out. It never had a chance – another Nembwe. I had broken my duck!!! Does this bode well for the Wild Coast in January? I doubt it.

Back at camp, a leisurely lunch, followed by more chilling. At this stage we knew that the four of us had got really comfortable with each other. I’m an innocent, so I have to ask the question - does the fact that I witnessed my mate’s wife shaving her legs mean that I had now experienced a ménage a trios?
We had booked to eat in the restaurant that night, so we spruced up and made our way to the pub for sundowners and then dinner. It was Kudu steak (so there must be game), done really nicely, and the rest of the meal was okay, and the service also okay – followed by an immensely strong cup of coffee. That coffee, couple with the fact that Nes and I slept with the tent cover open at our heads and the bloody anvil bats – felt as though we never slept a wink for the first time on the trip.

11 August – No rush today. Katima Mulilo and Hippo Lodge (we liked the sound of that) are not too far away. Had a full breakfast of bully beef (Nes is still not that sold on this being real food) and went our merry way. We arrived at the Hippo Lodge camp site. What a bust. Grubby, no one around, and looking pretty derelict – there was no way we were staying there. This was, for Derek, a major disappointment as he had pictures of a place nearby where he had camped during his tenure with the SADF – certainly expecting much better than what we found. At this stage I must pay tribute to Derek and Di’s route planning. Everything had gone exactly according to plan, if not better. They lived up to expectations and produced information from their file on alternatives in the area.

We returned to Katima (found a tourist agency and had a new place booked in no time) to restock on food and drink. At this stage, we had gotten used to not having people around, and were enjoying the pace and the quiet. We went to the OK in Katima. After being in there for about 15 minutes I almost had a claustrophobia attack and started feeling like the guy at Drotsky’s. I had to give Nes money and then wait outside to recover. That was so weird!! Nes then prevailed upon me (dragged me kicking and screaming) to go to the market with her. Thankfully this was pretty clean and not too crowded and we weren’t there for too long as there wasn’t too much on offer. We then broke our cardinal rule of “when on a trip fill up whenever fuel is available”. More on that later.

Around 40 km’s further, and at 2:30, we arrived at Kalizo, on the banks of the mighty Zambezi.

A very cute receptionist (apparently) that I didn’t notice, and we had another great campsite and pretty much our own ablutions and a baraka (a little thatched lapa that becomes your lounge at a campsite). Oooh look – they’ve got a pub, a really nice pub. Fooled you. We had our discussion and erection, and made ourselves at home before we went there. You could never imagine, I guess, what came next. We chilled for a while and then went to the pub for sundowners and another sunset over another river. What a majestic river this one is!! Later, back to the campsite for more drinks and dinner. The wind had stayed consistently strong on this day, and didn’t die down that evening. This was probably the coldest that we had been the entire trip, but thanks to the lucky packet trailer of Derek’s, we were able to erect an awning to avoid most of the wind. Both Derek and I were forced into long pants for the 1st time on the trip. However, as usual, we slept snugly and were raring to go the next day.

12 August – Another leisurely awakening. At this stage I should probably point out that, much to my travelling mates’ probable disgust, leisurely mornings still had me up to see the sunrise and make coffee. We had nothing planned for today other than another leisurely breakfast and chilling at Kalizo – which is exactly what we did. The day was magnificent, and we ended up whiling our way around the pool. As is customary, this led to us drinking beer at the pub. Now this is the place that we should have fished! Judging by the pictures and notice boards, this was a favourite fishing spot, for Tiger and anything else that the river had. Pictures of huge catches adorned the pub walls. Be that as it may, I think that we’d had our fill.

Yet another fantastic dinner arranged by the ladies, a great fire and a good sleep. Today was our last night in the Caprivi.

What a wonderful area, marginally more populated than Botswana, not quite as spotless, but with other attractions that are a must to return to. I can definitely see myself back there.