Our Blue Safari - Further North

It’s almost incongruous, sitting here in very chilly weather, thinking back to the 35 degrees on Mocambique. It’s a bit like having a helluva hangover and trying to think back on how well you felt before you got so pissed. God only knows how the folks in Barkly are feeling.

We got away from Pomene without much ado, but with a lot of sand, and made our way towards the next stop – Vilancoulos, which had evoked such stirring thoughts of tropical Africa at its best.

The road was pretty uneventful out of Pomene, just being delayed by the locals taking their cattle for walks again, and a short shopping stop at a village before the EN1. The EN1 lived up to our expectations and stayed pretty bad for much of the way. It did get better after about 80km’s and we arrived at our campsite with plenty of daylight to spare. We were spoilt for choice and took full advantage – we each took our own campsites. Despite this, we still took an inordinate amount of time to arrange who went where (“will this ever stop?” he asks) and how best to get the tents levelled – the campsite was on a fair slope. Two of the sites had baraccas and one was set up us the kitchen. Nes was there, so it didn’t take long for the stray dogs and cats to arrive for their Xmas.

So, Bluewater Beach Resort had nice grass, good army-like ablutions, a nice pub and a fantastic pool, which we spent hours in. I do not want to say – and then we went for a swim – so I won’t. We were to spend 4 nights here. No sooner had we set up, had a few beers and a swim, than a smooth purveyor of Dhow trips arrived and we were booked for a snorkelling trip the next day. On advice we ensured that this Dhow had a motor. Forgive me, but on this trip I cannot remember what we had to eat on each night, but we ate really well, courtesy of the normal diligent planning. Suffice it to say, each night we had something good to eat and something good to drink, so our spiritual wellbeing was never in doubt. The last night of each stay was at the local restaurant. Those meals that stand out in my mind will be dealt with accordingly. For a change, we did have a sufficient number of meals on a fire.

Oh, by the way, it was still incredibly warm – in fact the weather was unbelievably good. Di promised this – and she delivered.

Up bright and early, cooler boxes packed, to catch our motorised Dhow – only to find out it was just a Dhow. We were assured that the motor was working yesterday. Pete, a regular Moz traveller, says that this is SOP. Anyway, we could see the island across the incredibly blue water of this archipelago, so it shouldn’t be an issue. Add to this what we didn’t know - that the water all but disappears into a series of channels and sandbanks when the tide is out, and that without a bit of a wind, the Dhow didn’t really move much, and that the island of Magaruque was actually about 13 km’s away. Our trusty slaves (Dhow owner and assistants) threw their backs into it and rowed. With only the occasional whipping from us they rowed. And they rowed. And they rowed. They were amazingly fit and maintained an endless chatter (we did help push once or twice when the water got too shallow) Four and half hours later we arrived at the island.

We snorkelled at the small reef of the island. Our first taste of this was wonderful, somewhat limited in size, but not in clarity and colour. And, of course, the water was sooooo warm. While we did this, the slaves set up a small gazebo (4 sticks and plastic sheeting) and made lunch. We had watched our lunch staring at us from the bottom of the boat on the way out, and it was added to by some crab and squid – fresh from the water.

Despite our (my) misgivings, the lunch was a delicious seafood stew and rice – with salad. It was the taste of this that had us pondering whether we are sometimes just a little too worried about fridges and freezing (other than for beers and ice, of course) A stiff breeze (this is what coastal people call wind) and tide had come up by this time. We packed and were back at the campsite in just over an hour. Despite the missing motor, an entertaining day was had by all. Before the crew left, our supply chain manager, or quartermaster, Derek, had lined up dinner for the next night. We passed the evening in the time honoured tradition of eating, drinking and feeding the animals.

A slow morning was followed by a visit to the town of Vilancoulos, to draw money (they had quite a few ATM’s, that worked) buy some of their magnificent pau (bread) and go to the market to buy “stuff”. This was a pretty typical market and most of us found something that we wanted, including some very reasonably priced Famous Grouse and some really cheap cigarettes. Next stop was to have a look at the harbour.

The harbour was not grand, with some fairly tired fishing boats and wrecks around, but there were boats and a hotel that is busy being refurbished after many years of disuse – since the civil war. On the way down we saw a sign pointing to a Smugglers pub. How could we resist? So we didn’t, and passed a pleasant few hours sampling more local fare.

On the way back our quartermaster found his supplier – and there we were, a huge fish on the roof rack, tons of blue crab and the supplier hanging on the running boards. We were set for dinner – at a very reasonable price.

A lazy afternoon on beds and around the pool and Pete and Derek busied themselves readying the feast. Never really being much of a seafood aficionado, I made the fire. Wow, what a feast. The fish was too big for one sitting, so it was filleted and half was frozen for a later date, and we must have had about 12 crabs.

I confess to being someone who is really not given to devouring shell fish and tearing them limb from limb from limb with my fingers, or sucking the last morsels from these limbs, albeit with help from a whole lot of pliers. But, I was pretty much alone in this and the crab was attacked with gusto – with only the slurping and cracking breaking the still of the night. I must say, what I did have was really very tasty. This was followed by what was later proclaimed to be some of the best fish ever eaten. Well done Derek, with able assistance from Pete. A stunning meal.

At this juncture, it would be right to say “thank goodness” for camp helpers – to wash and clean. In truly colonial fashion, we made use of this service at every campsite. For those that might be horrified by our exploitation of the locals – hey – there are upsides to living in deepest, darkest Africa. This is one of the big ones.

The next day was, in army parlance, spent at leisure. A good breakfast, a short walk – made more interesting by Margie sinking into a crab hole up to her neck, to be rescued in the nick of time, before she sunk right down.

Okay, so it was just up to her knee and we just pulled her out, but it did sound exciting for a moment. Poetic license rules!! And then lazy time spent around the pool. You might have picked up by now that Vilancoulos did not have great beaches – they were more mud patches covered in sand, albeit also by clear blue water, so the pool was an absolute bonus. Being in the heart of fresh squid land (sea?) we all had a good evening of calamari and drinks in the pub.

We probably over stayed at Vilancoulos, but had we taken a slightly faster boat on day one we would probably have seen more of the islands, which would appear to be the main attractions of the place. However, the Dhow trip was fun and the seafood was great. Did we have a good time? Absolutely, yes!! This is what these trips are about – enjoyment and exploration.

We stopped in Vilancoulos, after a long detour via the airfield (looking for Mozambique stickers) to draw more money and buy more beer and bread and then made our way to our northern most destination – Inhassoro and Billfish Lodge.

More interesting roads were encountered and this stretch is worthy of a mention. It was my first time on a single lane tar road, made very interesting by the larger vehicles coming the other way who felt that that one lane was theirs. Anyway, we made it.

We had to take a small detour as the road to Billfish Lodge had washed away at some time, but we arrived there, quite early, on our hottest day so far. I cannot remember what the temperature was, but I do know that the men were sweating like pigs and the women were glowing like pigs. (I’m told that women don’t sweat). We checked in and grabbed a few beers to ward off encroaching dehydration. What a beautiful lodge – no camping this time – we knew that we would enjoy our two days here.

Those beers were very quickly turned into a deluge of sweat as we moved our kit into the chalet, which was really well kitted out. Each room was en-suite and air-conditioned. Not that we had lived rough, but this was stunning. The whole placed was well finished, with wooden pathways and decks, and really well maintained. We spent that afternoon lounging around the pool and considering our own great fortune to be able to do this type of thing. To give an indication of how warm it could get, one half of the pool was covered by an awning.

At this stage we also booked our next day’s excursion – a trip to see Santa Carolina (Paradise) Island and to snorkel around there and Nes starting hatching her business plan in earnest. Nothing better than a cocktail in the hot sun, planning a future!!

That night we turned on the aircon. Too cold. Set it to 27 degrees and later turned it off. We were getting cold – go figure!!

Up bright and early, down a long, steep, knee creaking flight of stairs, and onto the beach. As an aside, this too wasn’t a great beach – miles in either direction, but covered in seaplant leaves. Today we have 20 km’s to go to the island. Thoughts of time and the Dhow kept intruding, but half an hour later on the rubber duck and we were walking onto the beach of Paradise Island (local name), but also known as Santa Carolina of Survivor South Africa fame.

Juan (I think that was his name) dropped off the lunch “stuff” and we went around to the abandoned hotel on the island. This was amazing to see – yet another hotel that came to grief during the civil war. Juan was a mine of information. The hotel took up much of the island, with beautiful views from each room. The whole layout was evidence of the much better, genteel times that Mocambique had lived through, and the people that it attracted and entertained.

Even Bob Dylan had played and stayed here. Much of the hotel was crumbling and it was evident that this would not be a simple restoration job. We found out that this had been bought by arabs whose plan is to demolish it and start again. If this does happen, we wondered whether we might be amongst the last people to visit this island freely. If that is the case, and you’re up that way, this island is a must see. Not to go and see a crumbling hotel surely?

Nope!! The beaches were stunning, but the best parts were the reefs around the island. We snorkelled at two spots. The 1st was in a protected cove – the water was shallow, but the coral was unspoiled and colourful, with a huge variety of fish that were completely un-fazed by us being there. A smallish white-tip shark even crossed the reef and came pretty close to Margie to feed. The water was impossibly clear, and the white reflection of the sand created the feel of a tropical paradise – even sitting on the boat we were able to take clear pictures of the fish in the water. After a few sarmies in the shade on the beach we went to another spot on the other side of the island. The water was deeper here and the effort was a bit more with the tidal wash, but it was a massive coral bed.

There was just so much to see, fish, coral, huge clams, shells and so on. The variety was mind boggling. It was unspoiled, unmarked and magnificent. This is amongst some of the finest snorkelling that we have done – and we include Madagascar, Mauritius and Zanzibar in this comparison. Of all of them, this is  the only place where the coral hadn’t suffered from human lack of thought. I just hope that, as Mocambique starts finding itself and places further north start opening up again, that this type of environment remains unspoiled.

We had only taken this one short excursion and it was worth going to Inhassoro just for this. There were other trips to be had which, apparently, are just as good. If you’re in that neck of the woods, make this a destination. Billfish Lodge itself is part of that attraction. We were well looked after, and our evening meal of seafood (very reasonable prices) and a full breakfast the next morning just rounded our stay out nicely.

This was, unfortunately, the turnaround point of trip. We were to head south again.

And this is us, looking a lot more tanned and relaxed.