Updates and Ramblings

MadagasCAT

2011-01-17T11:47:00.000+02:00

I was contemplating just what it must be like to be a male Weaver Bird. This poor guy does nothing but build nests all day, every day. And then, the little Weaver Bitch just tears it down – with no apparent rhyme or reason, for him to have to start the cycle all over again. What lead me to this contemplation – the fact that I have had to remove the debris of about 10 palm trees from my pool over this, supposed, summer. 2011 is shaping up to be the War of the Weavers.

I suppose that most people will be thinking “just how long can a report on sitting on your arse on a catamaran on the sea be?”. I don’t know either, time will tell. Read on McDuff!!

Apart from the fact that there was a little confusion on departure time which caused us to arrive 2 hours early at the airport, our departure and arrival in Nosy Be were uneventful, despite a moment’s concern when my luggage was the last off. Morgz’ experience was still fresh in my mind. Quickly changing some Dollars to Ariary from a lady on the side of the road at the less than advertised rate, we were swept off to our destination by Romeo (not a romeo) – with Nes and Di getting giggly at the thought of us being hi-jacked by a Johnny Depp type pirate (secretly Derek and I were quite excited by the thought of a scantily clad Kiera Knightly). It was already dark and the road taken made us think that the hi-jacking might occur sooner rather than later – only for us to end up at the grandly named “Nosy Be Marina” and jumped (okay, climbed gingerly) into a very small rubber duck that took us to our home for the next 5 days – Gecko.

We were greeted by Albert (the skipper), Jean Yves (the chef) and Maurice (the deckhand) who were our amazing hosts for this trip. We stowed our kit and got busy with the task of enjoying ourselves – and were welcomed with fresh crab and THB (the local beer, which we were to sample in fair quantities). But first, some background;

The craft. Gecko is 35ft Catamaran, registered in Cape Town. It has 4 berths – 2 en-suite and two smaller ones. The en-suite consists of a double bed, fairly small; a few cupboards, enough for our limited luggage; and the bathroom in a separate enclosure – with pump toilet (that took some getting used to) a hand shower and a basin. To shower, you simply held it and showered (with warm water) and stood in the bathroom. A pump would get rid of the water when you were finished.

There were a few portholes that allowed air into the cabin and bathroom. The bed had a large hatch above it which you could climb out of. If it was hot (as it was all of the time) you left the hatch open to allow the breeze in. If it rained at night you had to close the hatch, and the cabin quickly became a little sauna.

There was a stateroom that had a kitchen with fridges and freezers, table and a seating area. The crew spent their idle time there – we spent none, other than to step in and get drinks from the fridge.

Outside, aft, was another covered seating area where we spent all of our meals and used quite often to escape the sun. There were steps from there to anywhere else – including the water. You could walk down the sides of the stateroom to the fore where you could sit or lie on the deck, or in chairs on the point of each hull. There was more than enough room for each of us to be comfortable and spend quiet time if you so desired.

The craft had a depth gauge, speedo, wind meter and an awesome GPS. It also had an autopilot, which was mostly engaged. It had sufficient batteries to power the fridges, provide light and power the pumps.

We spent most of the moving time under power by two 20hp diesel motors which also charged the batteries. They were very quiet and not intrusive at all. The sails were used on occasion, when the wind was sufficient. They were managed by a sophisticated set of pulleys and ropes that made it all seem quite simple.

We were always comfortable and at ease. Sea sickness or queasiness was never a factor.

The food. Were I more gastronomically driven, I could devote an entire blog to this. Jean Yves was a wizard – a properly trained and committed chef. He loved what he did, and you could taste it in his food. Crab, prawns, calamari, veggies, rice, meat, eggs, pasta, spices, salads, bread where continually combined into a delightful, aromatic and tasty combinations and arrays of food. Beautifully presented and prepared. Our own catches (yes we did) were turned into the finest kebabs, sashimi (Coota and Bonita) and fish – baked, braaied, grilled, steamed – in sauce, no sauce. It was amazing – and no two meals even looked similar. Scrambled eggs, French bread, pancakes. Chocolate Mousse – made from scratch. It just went on and. He seemed to spend the whole day just preparing food and, for us, it was worth every minute spent. Other than breakfast, I don’t think we ever finished a meal, although we really tried.

We waited, in eager anticipation, for every meal to arrive. It was always accompanied by gasps of awe and appreciation. If food excites you – do this trip for that alone. It will be worth every cent – provided Jean Yves is on board.

We emerged from the Marina at Mossie Poep on day one and took a fairly long journey south. This was to be our regular waking time with the artistic side of Derek taking a porthole shot (that probably doesn’t sound right and could leave the mind boggling) every morning. We moved over the impossibly blue waters surrounding Madagascar. I dwelt, at length, on this in the last trip and won’t do so again, but there were times when you felt that you could see 15 meters down. We stopped to snorkel at (what we called) South Africa island and got our first taste of how inviting this water was to be in – all of us taking in some rays at the same time. After some relaxation (okay, it was all relaxation) and a small siesta we hoisted the mains’l (arrgghh) and made our way to our overnight destination – a wide estuary – further south, where we did what we learned to do best – drinks, dinner and just chill.

Another early rise and out of the estuary. I retired to the throne, and suddenly the CAT was all over the place. I dashed out to see what was going on. Nothing to do with my ministrations - there were seabirds diving and fish jumping. The CAT’s manoeuvres were our skipper chasing the fish and two of the rods had fish on the end. Two decent sized king fish were landed.

It wasn’t long afterwards and we had a Barracuda and a Spanish mackerel on board as well. Derek and I had broken the duck of a number of years and had actually caught some fish. We definitely weren’t going to starve. After that excitement (and fun) we moved on to Nosy Iranja.

Those that remember our last trip will remember that this is the leg that we missed - apparently the natives were restless. As we neared these two small islands, joined by a sandbar, we realised that that was a load of codswollop!! There weren’t enough natives on these two islands to raise a decent bar brawl. It would appear that the Dhow skipper was just too lazy to take us all that way. This stop was to be one of the highlights of the trip. The water and surrounds were breathtaking.

It was still, windless and hot. We wasted no time in strapping on the snorkelling kit and dived straight into a school of 1000’s of small fish. It was amazing how the whole shoal moved in unison, as though connected. We’d never seen anything like this – and the clarity of the water gave us amazing sight of these fish – with the occasional Barracuda feeding on them. Incredible – we felt honoured to have been given this opportunity. So honoured, in fact, that when we reached the sandbar I was nominated to swim back to the CAT to load up a cooler box. This was obviously because of my “Thorpe like” physique and swimming prowess. It could not possibly have been that I might just have been too stupid to find a decent argument.

So there we were (most of us anyway), cracking a beer after about 4 ½ hours of being awake, on the sandbank connecting the two islands. Did I mention that this was about 9:30 in the morning?

We spent a bit of time on the bar and then whiled away the rest on the CAT – through another incredible feast and siesta (we needed these you see) and then made our way to Russia Bay where we were to shelter for the night. More stunning sunsets, more stunning beer, more stunning food and more stunning sleep. We were seldom to make it later than 20:30 before retiring to bed.

Bright and early (again) in Russia Bay, and we made our way to an island close by after an early morning swim. The water today was amazingly clear (again) and we watched apparently harmless jelly fish pass under the CAT on the way to this island. The name, as are many Madagascar names, was long and it escapes me. Nes and I dived in and made our way to the rocks to snorkel. We dived out just as quickly – there were little floating tentacles, a bit like a bluebottle tail, that stung and make snorkelling a little uncomfortable. This was apparently because of the neap tides that we were having, and these creatures didn’t get washed away. Oh well, no harm done, and we just watched the fish from the CAT – the clear water allowed us a bird’s eye view. These things weren’t going away so we went back to South Africa is land to snorkel a bit more and then spend some time on the beach. Very cool!!

Today is the day before New Year. We’d decided to go to Sakatia Resort for some R&R and time on land, so we made our way towards that on the roughest seas to date. Still no sign of sea sickness though (and no hangovers either). Wonder if they’re related? Some people remained on deck and some went for their regular siestas. It was at this time that we became aware of a stealthy thief in our midst – though one would never normally apply the word “stealth” to this individual. Two rods suddenly got hammered – I picked up one and Di the other – accompanied by an excited shout. This shout disturbed the thief. He appeared from below decks, grabbed the rod out of Di’s hands and despite my admonitions that his line was over mine he landed a decent sized Bonita. Because of this dastardly approach, I had to keep my fish under control until he finished.

While I was doing this a fair sized grey/brown creature came up and bit the back end off my Bonita – which was close to the CAT. Blood filled the water, I let the line out and the shark returned to take the rest, just cutting the line with its teeth. It was amazing and left the pulse racing. After the obligatory picture, the thief then disappeared below decks again, without having said a word. What a fiend!! After this, we watched our rods with care!!

I managed to hook a Spanish mackerel (couta) just before getting to Sakatia. I was so busy trying not to make a noise (in case the thief returned) that I managed to let the drag go and achieved a massive overwind. Despite this embarrassment, I still managed to land it.

We moored someway out and took the little duck to the resort, where we had a few beers and managed to see some Lemurs which came down very near the chalets. This was quite something, seeing them wild!! We also experienced our first tast of ground swell. Sitting in the lounge chairs we still felt as though we were on the CAT. While having these beers, we saw the little duck tracing erratic patterns in the water near the CAT. This was confusing as it was supposed to be fetching us and not going the other way!! Anyway, Maurice eventually arrived to pick us up. When we got back to the CAT, there was the biggest Kingfish that I’d ever seen, lying on the deck. When we saw it Maurice’s face lit up like a beacon. He had managed to hook this monster with a handline, and then jumped into the duck for this fish to drag him all over the place until her could land it. This explained the erratic movement of the duck. That Kingfish must have been all of 70Kgs – and Maurice had brought it in on a handline – and amazing feat (in our minds at least).

We’d decided to spend the night on the CAT, rather than at the Sakatia restaurant. Great decision as it turned out - our New Years Eve celebrations ended at 20:45, after the expected scrumptious feast – Bonita sashimi, grilled couta in sauce and veggies, and grilled Kingfish.

Happy New Year everybody!! Off to Nosy Komba (Lemur Island) today. We hadn’t spent a single Ariary to date and those of you that know her would know that Nes was getting itchy. After a short dive we went to the Island for the obligatory Lemur (Maki) tour – same as last time. Very canned, and just a little sad, but they sure are cute with wonderfully soft and inquisitive hands as they sit on you and eat the proffered bananas.

Then some shopping. Unfortunately (fortunately?), being New Years Day, many of the shops were closed, but Nes and Di still managed some acquisitions and then back to the CAT. We were going to moor near the little settlement on the island, but the sounds of the New Year celebrations were very loud and were expected to continue well into the night. Having got used to the quiet, we decided to move on and shelter from the Westerly and dreaded Southerly wind (remember this!). It was the most magnificent evening, with our first real experience of a clear Madagascar night sky since we’d arrived. We made the most of that and then settled in for the usual early evening. A very strong wind came up that night – a bloody Easterly. This was the only night that we felt that we might be thrown out of our bunks by the movement of the CAT, and had a somewhat disturbed sleep. Up early for a swim and coffee and an early departure. This was to be our last day and we were determined to make the most of it – today was Nosy Tanikily – the traditional last day destination – if twice can be tradition.

OH! MY! WORD!!! (or, “bloody marvellous”, as the thief would say) The clarity, stillness and warmth of the water did it for us again. This then was the other highlight. We jumped into the water at 08:00 in the morning and snorkelled until after 10:00. When we climbed out, our flesh was as winkled as a bunch of prunes. The colours and variety of the fish and coral just kept you going. We followed turtles as they just gracefully swam around, blissfully unfazed by our presence. As you swam you just kept trying to attract the attention of your partner, to point out something new and wonderful. I found Nemo as well!! We carried on frolicking in the water for ages afterwards, reluctant to admit that this was the last swim of this wonderful trip. It was with more than a touch of sadness that we made our way back to Nosy Be Marina to spend our last night on board the Gecko.

After breakfast we bid really fond farewells to the crew. They had been amazing and were far more than partly responsible for the success and enjoyment of this trip. Friendly, courteous, professional and efficient – it appeared that they found pleasure in helping you to enjoy a CAT trip of a lifetime.

Our flight was to take us from Nosy Be, to Antsinarana where we changed planes to fly to Antananarivo. It was apparent that little attention had been made to process and efficiency on Air Madagascar, and we had some head shaking wonder at times. But, so what? We had just had a fantastic rest and holiday and were not about to get upset by little things.

When we arrived in Tana, we quickly checked into a very pleasant hotel and took a trip into the town to try and get hold of some of the Madagascar cotton T-shirts and a few other things. We managed find a really good taxi driver who helped make our quest pretty successful. A point to note here is the pleasant surprise we had when we saw how Anatananarivo had changed last we were here. Whilst there was quite a degree of apparent poverty, the streets and town were really clean and many of the vehicles are new – on not just French. There are very real signs of an improving economy since the departure of the last president who, by all accounts, caused lasting damage to Madagascar due to his greed. This was particularly evident in Nosy Be which had seen no improvement and appeared to be treated as a poor second cousin.

When we had started out, we were quite dismayed and felt that a week wasn’t long enough. It turned out that it was, and we were ready to be off the CAT. This despite the fact that we had loved every minute of our time on board – for all sorts of reasons. In what appears to be a complete contradiction, it was a week packed full of rest and relaxation.

Four people was a perfect number and we again found that the Britz’s are the ideal travelling companions – each person giving the other the space they desired and the time we spent together was quality time. I’ve said it before in other accounts of trips – Derek and Di, you’re welcome on our CAT at any time.

Oh yes – I forgot. I love my car!!

Our Blue Safari – Heading South

2010-06-24T15:49:00.000+02:00

Our Quartermaster would tell me that the title is incorrect because I use “track up” on the Garmin, and that the heading is actually South West – any way, it’s southish.

Same roads, different direction. Down to Morongula about 15 km’s on a good dirt road. Check in worked well and looked good enough, with the reception having a beautiful view over the ocean.

It was still really warm, and the weather remained awesome. I’m not sure what contacts Di has with the weather makers, but they sure are handy to have. Down a really steep hill to beach level, find our campsite and “discuss” for a while to – you guessed it – decide who would camp where. We used the available space again and grabbed more than one campsite. One of the things that Mocambique campsites really have got right is the baraccas at nearly every campsite. They make such a good base for a kitchen and gathering area. This was no exception.

The campsite was a 10m walk from the beach – which stretched for miles in either direction. This stretch was apparently 60 km of uninterrupted beach and we had to spend four nights here – bugger!!

Much of the 3 full days there are in my mind as a blur of lying on the beach, long walks in either direction and hours on end in the water. Those of you that know me know that hours of swimming aren’t my favourite pastime, but here it most definitely was. The days were hot and the water really warm. This was our first real beach opportunity since Pomene, and we made the most of it. The guys even made use of the somewhat weird frisbee that we had bought to while away the idle hours just floating in the water. It really was quite awesome just to float around, doing pretty much nothing.

We found some roadside shopping just outside of the campsite and bought a whole lot of things – T-shirts mainly and some really fresh paus. These were to be our brunch or lunch on most days, depending on how the mood took us. Afternoons were normally spent relaxing in the shade after lunch and a few beers.

On the second day our Quartermaster went to work again. A bit of bargaining and negotiating and we were the proud owners of 8 kg of Crayfish at a very reasonable price (seriously – about R400). These things were HUGE. Much activity and organisation centred on preparing these. Again, I stood back and let the seafood chefs, Pete and Derek, have their space. An hour or two and a few drinks later these monsters found their way onto our plates and, with much ceremony, the feast began. Oh my word!! I opted for the smallest, and couldn’t finish all of it – I have no idea how the others managed.

The next day was similar to the one before – and just as relaxing – followed by a tasty seafood paella, courtesy of Margie and the fish from Vilancoulos – the freezers worked as well as ever. Always food, cold beer and always ice – what else is there?

By this time I was starting to suffer from a seafood overload and didn’t think I could manage anymore. Nes was encouraging me like a tired, nearly defeated boxer, quietly whispering “you can do it”. The next night we were saved - Portuguese chicken in the restaurant, and I was not the only person that opted for that. Yet another good evening was had as our holiday slowly drew to a close. The next move and night was to be our last before departing for home.

That night was so incredibly warm that we left the nets open on the tents, after a cold water shower in the open. It didn’t help.

As an aside, I really enjoyed Morongula. The campsites were large, mostly grassed and shaded. Good baracca, power supplied and fair ablutions. The surroundings and beach were wonderful. If I were running the place, I would definitely move the pub, shop and restaurant closer to where the people are. It was a bit out of the way and a schlep to get there and back.

Given that we had to go past Xa-Xai again, and we had about 450 km’s to go, it was a relatively early start. The road was as slow and lumpy as we remembered. So much so that we had a late lunch in Biline before heading on down to the Palmeiras campsite. This was the area where the original Portuguese inhabitants of Maputo used to stay for long weekends and holidays. The weather was starting to close in and look ominous for the first time on our trip. We parked (quite quickly this time) and did the minimum of unpacking for this stay – pretty much just opening the tent – and then a quick turn for some shopping at the market nearby. Certainly not the best that we had been to, so we didn’t waste much time there and made our way to the campsite pub on the lagoon. It’s a pity the weather wasn’t great as I would like to have seen a little more of it (the lagoon). That night we had our final holiday dinner at the restaurant and most of us (including me) were back on seafood, and sad to be winding up, but it never stopped the enjoyment.

We were woken quite early in the morning by the rain, so we leapt up and packed and were gone in no time. Given that none of us relished the drive via Maputo on a weekday we leapt at the chance to take the road less travelled, as described to us by a fellow traveller that we had met on the way.

It was pee’ing pretty steadily by this time, with occasional heavy rain, as we took the detour. It started off well enough, on tar, until we hit the end of our Garmins. (1st time ever) and Pete saved us with a piddling Tom Tom which had this track on it. By the time we hit the track much of it was like a river, with thick, slippery mud everywhere. At one stage we met a truck coming the other way that was not budging out of the middle. Derek and I thought we’d made it by when the trailers just developed minds of their own and slid, gently, off the centre into deep mud on the side. There was a moment’s consternation when I thought that I might need to be pulled out by a Land Rover. Thank God it never happened!! Pete and Derek seemed okay in their vehicles, but we struggled. I prefer to think that this was the tyres rather than the driver – I’ll stick with that until I get new tyres. Mine became like racing slicks, and the only time I was halfway sure of the direction that I was going in was if I was in someone else’s tracks. I think Pete and Derek had a ball. I must confess that I only really enjoyed this stretch when I think back on it. Given the chance, we would definitely (even me) do this route again, especially on a good day. The surroundings were picturesque and an infinitely better way than the arse end of Maputo. It’s now on our Gamins as well.

Carrying probably 30 kg’s of mud we were again helped through the Mozambique border by another set of helpful locals that we encountered, with only a few rands changing hands, and the SA side was pretty painless.

After a breakfast in Komatipoort, our holidays were over and took our leave at Nelspruit. Holiday pretty much over – only the driving and unpacking ahead, with the Britz’s or Pike’s secretly thankful that we didn’t have Pete and Margie’s distance to go.

In the final analysis, Mozambique is still a great place to visit and there are enough places to go to that are of good quality and price. Pomene, Morungala and Billfish Lodge are definite recommendations. Only Billfish doesn’t have a camping option and the other two have chalet options. The people are more friendly and open, and less poverty stricken, than on our last visit. You are able to, quite comfortably, stop in some local pubs and restaurants along the way. Moz is opening up, roads are improving and fuel is easy to find – don’t waste too much time before you go there. You’re going to have to go further and further north to enjoy the unspoiled environments.

It was an incredibly restful holiday where Nes and I had a ball and just want to say “Pete and Margie for the 1st time, and Derek and Di for the umpteenth, it was a wonderful trip that you helped make great”. We’re getting really good at this, taking a few more spur of the moment decisions that add different options and nuances to the trips. And, as I always say, we gotta do this again. Not necessarily the same trip, but certainly giving the trailers / tents / vehicles a run in the wild again.

T100, over and out – for this trip.

Our Blue Safari - Further North

2010-06-18T12:47:00.000+02:00

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.

Our Blue Safari - White Sand, Blue Sea

2010-06-09T12:21:00.000+02:00

Months in the planning, and months of anticipation, days of purchasing and packing, a long trip from PE for Pete and Margie and we were finally off.

The Pike’s got away at 04:00 on Sunday 21 March – followed closely by the rest at 05:00. And no, this was not because the Prado was slower!! There must be daylight savings slightly east if us that we didn’t know about.

Be that as it may, we made our fairly leisurely way to the border post. Here it is important to remember that, in writing these accounts, I always resolve to report positively. With Juju, Bob, Eugene, the Lion’s Super 14 efforts etc. there is more than enough negativity around – I refuse to be a part of that.

At around lunchtime we passed, with little fanfare, out of SA with help from the SA border officials who were clearly overworked and finding the day very long. We were assisted through the Mocambique side by a number of energetic fellows who insisted on helping us and then by a customs official who signed our vehicles through with no delays. We showed our appreciation for this assistance with some cash. Ahhh, capitalism is a wonderful thing.

From there to the Spar on the outskirts of Maputo to stock up with Mets and beer - we believed that we might need both for our trip. This belief was correct. Going through Maputo was the only time that we were stopped by police on our entire trip. They quickly worked out that the 3 vehicles were fine, and that we didn’t understand a word they were saying and let us carry on.

By this time we were starving and, knowing that Zona Braza (our first stop) was quite a way away, we stopped at Ultra City for a very welcome Prego and our first 2M (pronounced doish M). ‘twas beautiful.

Then through Xai-Xai – Oh - my - WORD – what happened to these roads? Moz might just have discovered the cheapest way to do traffic calming through their cities – and beyond – potholes!! The road beyond Xai-Xai was a revelation. They were fixing it, and the detour on the side was thick with sand, and almost a one way. We had a moment or two of consternation when some insistent trucks nearly had one of our number over the side. We arrived at the Zona Braza turnoff, and that road was in better condition that the EN1. After a few km’s of a narrow, sandy road, we arrived at Zona Braza, comforted in the knowledge that our 4x4’s had got us there – only to find that our 4 neighbours has gotten there in a Citroen Xsara-Picasso.

Let’s talk quickly about the roads, and then never mention them again. I’ve already mentioned some of it. There were some incredibly bad patches along the main road. So much so, that the side roads tended to be better than the main EN1. So, around Xai-Xai, Maxixe and a little north of Vilancoulos made sure that you kept your wits about you. The shoulders were often used in favour of the badly potholed tar. They made sure that you kept your wits about you, and that you tied everything down properly – there sure were bumpy parts. However, there were signs of work on the roads, by the Chinese, and this work heralds a great change. By all appearances, this will not take as long as you would think. Between our outward and return journey, there were long stretches of positive change. Maybe next year, most of this will be done. It sure will change the whole experience – as long as they leave the side roads for off-road vehicles.

We had dawdled a bit in Maputo, so it was dark when we arrived and didn’t immediately form impressions of the place. Over a few beers on the deck we flipped coins to see who would share, and who would be the honeymoon couple. The Pike’s won and we moved vehicles and trailers to the chalets. Trying to reverse my trailer into position we found that the trailer braking system doesn’t allow you to reverse, uphill, in thick sea sand. Never mind, our neighbours offered to help get the trailer down the slope. There was a moment of panic as the trailer started to run away – headed for a very steep descent into the dunes!! Quick thinking (luck) allowed us to steer the wheel into a retaining pole and stop it. It stayed there for the duration.

By now you would have realised that we weren’t camping, but in chalets. The B’s and N’s in a nice big one overlooking the ocean and the P’s in a quaint smaller one – with the kitchen a small thatched area separate from the bedroom. We unloaded the essentials, had dinner and a few drinks and retired to bed after a fairly long day. 2 nights ahead in Zona Braza. This was great planning - to allow us to get into the rhythm of Mocambique – an altogether different rhythm to that which we are used to. No prizes for guessing which is the more enjoyable.

Oh my word, but it’s warm. Down an easy hill for our first swim in the sea, wallowing in the water like whales. Magnificent weather, warm water – an idyllic morning, the first of many to come. Everybody was in their element. Two of us struggled a little with “just relaxing” and found a few things to keep us occupied. We’re going to have to find a tennis ball, or something, for these lazy days.

Between us arriving on the beach and leaving there was some type of dramatic earth movement – perhaps a slipped fault or something. The easy hill that we came down had morphed into a Killi type climb to get back up. Geez – I need a beer! Lo and behold, at the top of the summit was a bar, and ice cold 2M’s – how serendipitous. 6 newly burned people had a lazy lunch in the P’s little kitchen gazebo, with a number of 2M’s (see, I told you we needed to buy them) followed by an afternoon snooze and a great steak braai that evening.

Only 346 Km’s to go Pomene. We were really excited about this leg. We had tried a few years back, but Pomene had been washed away. We had a decent breakfast, thank goodness. 346 Km was to prove a little longer than anticipated on these roads. Driving is thirsty work, so we stopped at a local bar in Inharrime – what a magnificent lagoon - for a much needed beer, and in Maxixe again for some much needed food and drinks and then onwards to Pomene. The 1st 30 km’s or so were normal dirt as we wound our way through villages, slow traffic and cattle being taken for a walk. They all had leashes, so we assumed they’re like domestic pets, with the upside that you could eat them when they didn’t behave.

At the last little village the P’s picked up two forlorn Portuguese tourists trying to make their way to Pomene. They were really lucky that we met them when we did – it could have been a long wait. The last bit in was through a reserve, the dunes and some mangrove swamps. What a great drive. We had to let the tyres down a bit, but made it easily enough – though it may have proven tricky in anything but a 4x4.

It was getting dark when we arrived, but light enough to see the incredibly blue water and incredibly white sand. Oh boy!! More wonders await. Checked in and had to stop a very committed Jorge from giving us a whole tour before we set up camp. Despite the long break from camping, the only challenge, as per usual, was in where to put the bloody tents!! I guess this will never end. So, after much movement, backwards and forwards, we found our spots and pitched, all beds facing the sea. In this backwards and forwards, disaster befell us!! More on this later. Erection happened mostly in the dark, with a few muffled curses and sweat dripping. No harm, no foul, we were done. There was a Barraca on our site which became the kitchen. We had a somewhat disjointed dinner and drinks as we were all in and out making our arrangements, organising tents and beds and then a cold shower. No problem, it was really warm.

Opened our eyes – blue sea, white sand, blue sky, white butt – Oi – get out of my narrative!! Two wonderful beach days beckon. And that’s what they were. We still haven’t managed to find a tennis ball, but we will manage. The beach was pretty much a step from the campsite. In fact, we were camped on beach sand - beautiful, white beach sand. The weather was spot on, the sea a light blue on and a few umbrellas, chairs and the inevitable cooler box, and there we were. While lazing in the sun in the shallows the words of Winston Churchill came to mind – “never have so many words been spoken by so few in such a short space of time” – or something to that effect. Margie and Nes were the primary culprits, but there were some other sporadic contributions.

The second afternoon saw us retiring to the pool as the wind came up. A few beers and snoozes in the chairs were great for recharging batteries. That evening saw the guys dragging the ladies along to fish in the lagoon. Derek’s first cast saw his little rod (small fishing rod - behave already) was broken at the tip. Not to worry, he’s got a big rod. Let’s throw that in with the live bait that Pete caught. Bait up, throw – bugger, another broken rod. That little disaster I spoke about earlier – it appears that Derek’s rods ended up underneath more than one set of wheels in all the camp setting up. Not being luckiest fisherman alive I offered my rod up to his cause. Didn’t really change anything, that rod still hasn’t caught a fish!! This despite the fact that, for Pete and Derek, the fishing bug had bitten and they gave it a bash early the next morning again.

That night we had a fantastic meal in the restaurant – all of us opted for really fresh, delicious seafood. Despite the sundowners that we had, witnessing a wonderful sunset, and me drinking Chivas, the bill was incredibly reasonable – almost cheap. ‘twas a wonderful evening. We retired, replete and relaxed, to take up the next part of the journey. Pomene will definitely see us again.

For some reason I don't have a sunset picture of Pete and Margie - but they looked pretty much the same in any light (sorry Newtons - this'll have to do for now)

Oh yes, and I even managed to buy a Frisbee when we settled our bill.

Still another few stops on the way – stay tuned!!

Liuwa Plains - Going home was also fun

2009-12-09T14:12:00.000+02:00

The Liuwa Plains were now done at dusted and it was time to make our way home. We got a good start in the morning to arrive in Mongu at around lunch time. Although I’ve glossed over it, the trip out of the Plains was as much “fun” as going in. If possible, the roads seemed to be even worse – maybe we were going against the grain. After a couple of wrong choices on multiple choice tracks, by the time we got to Mongu I was starting to suffer from a serious sense of humour failure.

Anyway, we made it to Mongu in one piece and decided that, as efficient as the Mutoya Camp was, that we’d rather give it a miss and make it as far as we could in that day without ending up driving in the dark. So we gave it horns and headed for Sioma Camp (courtesy of T4A). The road from Mongu to the Kalangola ferry also felt worse than on the journey to Mongu. It is possible as we had had fair bits of rain since our arrival. However, after all of these roads, the one from Kalangola to Sioma (which we had also traversed on the way out) seemed almost like a highway.

We drove passed quite a storm on the way, with the most magnificent rainbows. The non-die-hard campers were starting to think the chalet route again. Upon arrival at Sioma Camp (http://www.siomacamp.com/) negotiations were quickly dispensed with, over a beer, and chalets were chosen. This was made easier by the fact that the actual campsite had suffered some storm damage, as had the reception and bar. But probably even easier by the fact that it had been one helluva day. 294 Km in nearly 11 hours – going pretty much as fast as we possibly could – with limited stops. At the same time we arranged for a trip to the Sioma Falls, which were nearby.

That night we again ran into Francois and Charl of OpenAfrica (http://www.openafrica.org/ ), and spent a really interesting evening discussing the Plains, Zambia specifically, their mission and Africa in general. This brief encounter reiterated my earlier impression – this is something worth keeping an eye on.
The day had been hectic, so the get together wasn’t that late. We retired to our chalets, with satin sheets and pillows – and quickly got rid of them. Satin in the bush is just so wrong – can’t imagine what they were thinking.

After Popa Falls in the Caprivi, I was hoping that the Sioma Falls were something more. It was quite a boat ride there, with a drop-off and short walk for the boat to traverse the rapids, and then a longish walk later to get to the Falls themselves. The advertised “20 minutes to the Falls” was considerably longer, and the walk conveniently never mentioned. Be that as it may, the falls were a revelation and definitely worth the trip. In fact, if you’re in this neck of the woods, they’re a “must do”.

After everyone photographed them from every angle we made our way back, had a swim in the Zambezi and a very near mishap in the rapids. Thanks to the pilot it was negotiated with just a few raised pulses and no other harm done.

There were a number of lodges along this stretch, many of which appeared to be abandoned or falling apart. This was borne out by feedback from locals who said that Gavin Johnson (of Transvaal, Sharks and Springboks fame) was really the only person managing to make this stretch work as a tourist destination. We would also argue that Kabula Lodge was working, but not making a mint.

Although Sioma Camp has all of the right ingredients, sadly, our experience there would suggest that they too will follow the route of the others unless something is done. (Anybody want to buy this with me?)

After that, a short trip to my personal favourite, Kabula Lodge, passing by the boom, now unmanned as it was a Sunday. Go figure 

Fuel was starting to get a bit tight at this stage, but it looked as if all of us would make it to Katima the next day.

We celebrated our return to Kabula with a few beers. We had chosen to camp in their stunning grounds this time. A word to the uninitiated, putting up a dome tent while marginally under the influence is not a quick affair. Simon and Ted (who were in a chalet again) did little to help the situation while they watched – preferring a few words of encouragement mixed with derision.

We went for a short fishing excursion to try to relive the glory of the earlier part of the trip. We managed to hook absolutely nothing – my record is intact.

The next day we made our way out of Zambia. I, personally, felt very sad to be leaving the Zambezi Valley. You feel almost as if you’re leaving a part of yourself there – to pick it up when you come back. There seems to be an acceptance that you will do so. It is such a beautiful part of the world and has so much going for it.

That’s it then – leaving Zambia and retracing our steps via Katima, refuelling there with some relief, via a quick stop in Kasane and over-nighting in Elephant Sands and then Kwa Nokeng – boring tar all the way to home. Border stops all the way were a breeze and accomplished with the minimum of fuss. The only change was carrying a monumental hangover from Elephant Sands to Kwa Nokeng – a very heavy extra passenger. This was the result of over doing Simon’s “Mafunyane Xmas Party” with a few other travellers.

Now for my impressions and observations;
Zambia
Bearing in mind that we only did the very West of the country, bordering on Angola, this shouldn’t be considered as part of the definitive guide to Zambia – and should be recognised as my own humble opinion. This area has got 4 major things right; the absolute beauty of the place and its surrounds, the friendliness, industriousness and hospitality of the people, the cleanliness outside of major centres and their cell phone network. It appears to be incredibly poor, but you could pick up a signal in the most unlikely places – including the Sausage Tree in Liuwa.

Much of the industry, or lack thereof, appears to be driven by the state of the roads. There is just no easy way to get to this part of the world and very few other vehicles are seen. Those that you do see seem to be Government Department vehicles, or road works / aid vehicles - many driven by Chinese - they’re everywhere. Initial impressions suggest that the state of the roads is as a result of laziness and lack of foresight. It is not! When you see what the effect of water is on the flood plains, and you see the absolute lack of resources in this area, you begin to understand why they are that way. The hardship and lack of opportunity that the state of these roads imposes on the people suggests that they would have it another way if possible.

Barter is more popular than money in this area. Most people would prefer to be paid in goods than money - because there is nowhere for them to spend it. The cost of transport to shops would be prohibitive. We heard the story of 2 young men walking 65 km’s to buy something. They then had to get back.

But there appears to be something even more disastrous. Being in rural Africa you really become aware of the effect of Aids on this continent. We saw very few people between the ages of 18 and 40, and some of the smaller towns are nearly empty. It is estimated that between 50%-60% of the people have Aids. Given this situation we were very surprised by the lack of clinics and health services in the region. They only appeared to be available near the major centres. Given the state of the roads, they will have no effect on the rural people.

Despite the apparent poverty, or more correctly, the lack of means, we never felt unsafe or threatened in any way – even walking around in Mongu. It puts our own country, where crime is blamed on apartheid and poverty, in a very negative light. Despite the fact that there are huge power lines in the country, none of this seems to make its way to the rural people. They have to fend for themselves and draw water from the rivers - and they're happy. Makes you wonder about our service delivery protestors. Maybe the bush makes people happy?

Other than in the Liuwa Plains there was no game!! And Liuwa plains could have supported a lot more than it does. No monkeys, no baboons, no buck – and so on. My guess, and it might be the wrong one, is that the locals eat bush meat as a dietary supplement. This spells disaster if they’re trying to attract foreign tourism. Foreign tourists want the Big 5. What is heartening is the land that they’re putting aside for reserves and the work that some international organisations are doing to try to reintegrate game into the area – it certainly lends itself to this. The trick will be to show the communities that it is in their interests to work with these initiatives – and that is part of where Open Africa comes in. (if you do nothing else – read the “Founder’s Message” http://www.openafrica.org/page/about )

This made absolutely no difference to my trip. I had an adventure and saw the Wildebeest gathering – anything else would have been a bonus.

Would I go back to visit this part of Zambia? In a heartbeat – I loved it.

The Trip
I thoroughly enjoyed every minute of the trip, despite the roads. However, if I went back to Liuwa Plains it would have to be part of a longer journey. It is worth seeing, but I doubt that I would do that as an only destination again. Too much hard work for 4 days.

Our end itinerary was right, and I don’t believe there are too many changes to make to that for the trip to work again.

In the beginning I missed the trailer. Upon reflection you could pull a trailer there, but I don’t think that I would – if that was the only destination, or unless the stay was longer. The vehicle, campsites and packing worked and got easier as we went along. It is not as easy as the trailer, but it’s definitely manageable. Some stops for lunch were probably not as hygienic or aesthetically pleasing as usual, but they worked. The dome tent worked like a charm and I will never contemplate the purchase of a rooftop tent. From my point of view it unnecessarily restricts your movement, particularly when you’re in one place for more than a day.

The only things that we had to top up on were bread, beer and whisky. All to be expected, so no loss. I would plan my fuel for a little more leeway than I did.

Simon was a great guide again and his food kept us going. I will travel with Mafunyane (http://www.mafunyaneadventures.com/), Ted and George again. They really added to the texture of our trip. I certainly know more about birds, from Kobus and Debbie, than I did before.

Dave, despite your nervousness in the beginning and the fact that you caught the Tiger you were a great co-driver. I thoroughly enjoyed having you along for the ride. We had great fun and many many laughs and irreverent moments. If I’m ever in need of a co-driver again, I’ll have no hesitation in calling.

Liuwa Plains - What we came here for

2009-12-07T17:04:00.000+02:00

We burst through (okay, emerged from, is more accurate) one of the “islands” of shrubs and trees that adorn the Liuwa Plains National Park onto an expanse of grassland that stretched as far as the eye could see. We’re here. WOW!! A little further on we stopped and switched off when we observed some lumps on the horizon. Silence. Absolute silence, enhanced occasionally by the sound of bird life and the call of a Fish Eagle. We were the only people on earth. After the continuous movement and sound of engines this was unbelievable and, immediately, the weariness just slipped away to be replaced by peace and anticipation.

The lumps on the horizon were Wildebeest – hundreds of them in the distance. This was why we were here.
At Kalabo the Zampark official had given some idea of what we would find at the community campsites in the Park. Having been to Kwai / Moremi in Botswana and Popa Falls in the Caprivi, we were a little bit sceptical as to what constituted a Community Campsite. In those places it is a spot under the trees, nothing else. Here we were met at the edge of one of the “islands” and guided to our site at the Lyangu Campsite. Wow again!! It was situated in some beautiful shade, level, swept clean and raked, with a thatched Berakah to house the kitchen. The path to the ablutions was also swept and the ablutions, with toilets, showers and basins, were spotless. Even though the water was hand drawn from a well, there was always water in the taps. Wow again – some other communities could really benefit from a visit here!!

We were pretty much experts at setting up camp by now, and this little formality was quickly dispensed with. It was now about 37° and fairly humid. The others went for a drive and Dave and I busied ourselves with a little bit of camp maintenance – cleaning and reorganising the fridge, decanting water from our jerry cans and the time honoured tradition of just sitting and having a quiet beer. Then it was time to go for a drive, see if we could spot some animals and watch the sun set over the Plains.

We parked in the middle of nowhere. That’s exactly how it felt – the middle of nowhere. My co-driver morphed into a photographer and became Taz as he set up his equipment and then we settled down and let the whole experience overtake us. Again that amazing silence eased over us, slowing the heart rate and miraculously emptying the mind. This was awe inspiring and the spirit just quietened and lifted. You drank in the moment and thought of the people back home, missing them, but not the bricks and mortar. For this brief moment alone the trip became worth it.

When the sun had set we took that feeling with us and joined the rest at the campsite. What a magnificent evening. The silence remained, broken only by some wind later and the incessant chatter of one of our companions (who shall remain nameless) and the swoosh of a myriad of huge moths, attracted by the unusual spectre of lights in the bush.

A good dinner and a great sleep - again. We awoke to a gentle rainfall that made a little lie in necessary and welcome. Coffee and rusks and a drive to see what Liuwa Plains offered. Tracks4Africa was great and has much of this park mapped. It was a leisurely and pleasant drive and we saw Oribi, Lechware, Hyena, Zebra, Mongoose and, in this place, the ubiquitous Wildebeest and their calves. Clearly vehicles are not commonplace on the plains – the game was skittish and moved away very quickly – if you stopped and stayed very still, they would return slowly or at least not move that far.

The little bit of rain had obviously had a wonderful effect on the plant life and there were collections of unusual and pretty flowers that had suddenly sprung into being. I have never seen as many Cranes and Crane Species in one location as we saw here. Amazing and very elegant. We were again struck by the vastness that surrounded us. At one stage we stopped and you felt that you could see the dip of the earth on the horizon, such was the flatness and the distance that you could see.

Okay, our stomachs were rumbling now and we headed back where Simon whipped up a delicious brunch. We then settled down for the rest of the day. Fixed and changed the flat tyre that I got in Mongu and then, variously, read, chilled, downloaded tracks and slept until later in the afternoon. This is the really great part about staying longer than 1 night in a place – you get a chance to catch your breath and really “be” in Africa. Later George joined Simon and Ted in the Landy, to preserve his fuel. He was pretty low and with very little chance of finding more in Zambia, this was a prudent thing to do. We then took a drive and experienced 100’s of Wildebeest, oodles of space and another amazing African sunset – different, but as peaceful. Many people in the overlanding and game travel community tend to ignore Wildebeest, just like they do Impala.

To witness them in this environment and in these numbers is a vastly different experience. You see them in a new light and appreciate a strange type of beauty that exists in them, particularly with their young calves in tow. I will forever see them in a new way. However, creating a “Wildebeest Appreciation Society” is probably too big a step – they’re still pretty stupid, whichever way you see them.

We were to move camp to the Kwale Community Camp the next day, and had our normal evening, punctuated only by an unearthly sound coming from Dave as he tried to dislodge a seriously big beetle, with seriously big pincers, from his leg. This shattered the calm and generated much excitement and mirth.

Rather than going straight to the new camp, which was about 10 km’s away, we did this by way of new routes through the plains. The situation changes, but the surroundings remain pretty much the same, as do the animals. This is not meant to sound jaded or bored – it absolutely isn’t. We were just as keen and interested, and stopped often to experience new things, but there are just so many times that you can write, “we saw 100’s of Wildebeest, or Cranes, or whatever”. This WAS a birders paradise, with many different and new species. I stand under correction, but I think that Kobus and Debbie identified more than 20 that they hadn’t seen before. Despite all the bird books we had in our car, Dave and I still don’t manage to get far past the, “gee, that’s a pretty small (or medium or big) brown (or blue, or black) bird”, but the variety was stunning to see.

Although we had yet to see any sign of the 3 lions ( C’mon, give me a break. I know I was there, but 3 Lions in 1000’s of hectares is quite a big ask. Isn’t it?) that they had introduced, or any of the apparently plentiful Wild Dogs, we did see Buffalo today. ZamParks was busy introducing them to the Park and trying to train them into not straying too far from the area that they were introduced into. This is a very fine line – trying to balance the community’s needs in the park with the tourism requirement. I hope they manage it.

On the way we stopped for the obligatory group shot, which worked really well. We arrived at the Kwale camp and were just as impressed with the layout, ablutions and cleanliness of this camp as we had been by the previous one. In fact, in terms of location and view, it was probably even better. BUT (note the big BUT) the flies in this camp were off-putting – to say the least. I had continuously been exhorting my companions to, “ignore the flies, and they will stop worrying you” throughout the trip. This worked for me, but I’m not convinced that it ever did for them. However, in this camp, that approach was wholly inadequate and they plagued us for the stay. In fact, on the second morning I walked out of the tent in a pair of shorts and I swear I was set upon by more than 40 of them. This was so not cool!! Thanks goodness they disappeared at night, but they led to us keeping shirts on during the day.

In addition to these, I have never seen as many moths as there were here at night. It became increasingly apparent that our intrepid photographer was not big on the “bug” side of things, and these kept him quite busy. I’m not sure that he ever tied together the fact that he had a red light on his head might well have been responsible for them flying at him with red eyes gleaming. Of course, my turn came when bloody big green and yellow frogs started showing themselves.

Next morning we took off early again, and went to the Sausage Tree (as it’s shown on T4A). We saw that there were already a number of Wildebeest at the water hole, with more arriving. We parked in the shade of this tree and just waited. 2 very quiet hours later and we had been surrounded by 1000’s of these animals. As they passed us they moved off in waves over the horizon – until there were lines of them as far as you could see. What an amazing sight and what a privilege to be able to see this. We then moved on to King’s Pools – obviously normally a river. A beautiful spot, but exceptionally warm that day.

We had a similar brunch, whipped up by Simon, and proceeded to emulate the activities (or non) of the day before. However, this was not to last. Eventually the flies drove us back into our vehicles for a drive – this was with the exception of Dave who barricaded himself in our tent to wait them out. On this trip George and I tried to stalk a Hyena to get a better pic of him. He wasn’t having any of this – every step we took towards him, he took another 4 away.

That night we heard our first Hyena giggle close to the site. Huge excitement – but he disappeared again. As I said, they’re very nervous of humans. Only about 350 visitors visited this park this year, and for most of the time we were the only vehicles. This is an amazing opportunity to not be disturbed by others, but it doesn’t bode well for the existence of the Park if it doesn’t attract more visitors to prove to the communities that it is indeed beneficial to them to keep it going. Particularly given that most of this area is under water and almost impassable during the rainy season - so visiting periods are limited.

After another stunning sunset, that night passed as many others before them had. Good food, good drink and the stars were really out and lighting up the whole sky. We took a walk out of the campsite, not every far, but the night was still and amazing. I tried to teach them that one can walk in the dark, with no moon, without a torch, but they weren't having it and George's portable searchlight put an end to any thoughts of darkness. We returned to the camp for coffee and a night cap and just to enjoy the stillness. The same chatter as before eventually drove us to leave the fire – some of us to bed, and Dave and I to the middle of the bush, watching the stars and giggling like school kids while listening to George snore. No wonder the animals stayed away from the campsite.

It was a poignant moment – tomorrow we were to leave the Plains. We had expended some serious effort and time to get here, had an amazing time, and the long trek home beckoned.

Don’t miss “The trip home and my impressions” next on the Blog!!

Liuwa Plains Zambia - How tricky is that drive!!

2009-12-03T16:15:00.000+02:00

So, just how long can 255 km’s take? If you factor in one ferry crossing and 100 km’s of really good tar, you would be forgiven for thinking around 4 or 5 hours. Surely not 8 hours? Well, that’s what it was.

Normally, when recounting our trips, I do not dwell on the roads and travelling conditions, but given that our destination on this trip was as much about getting there as it actually was about being there, I have to. And you might also start to glean some clue to my reference to Charles Dickens. I’ll try not to make it too obvious for those of you that like a cerebral challenge. These conditions do have a great bearing on my final summation of this trip, so please bear with me and skip those bits that you want to. As if I really have a choice in what you do.

From Kabula to the Kalangola Ferry there was, unquestionably, a road. It had just received very little attention for some time and, in many cases, there were tracks on either side of the road that were, ostensibly, smoother. (In spots, there had been efforts to maintain this road, but they were few and far between) This was never proven to any extent and it often found all of us using a different track.

In the middle of nowhere we encountered a manned boom. Reading the information on the board, which made no sense but contained many references to sections of legislation, it appears that different councils are legally able to charge you for traversing their areas. Whether this was true or not, we have no idea. But R100 per vehicle later we were on our way. Our departure was accompanied by an official looking receipt, a huge smile and we were still none the wiser as to what we were paying for or what we were getting for that. Oh well – c'est la vie!!

Heading towards the ferry we were starting to enter the floodplains of the Zambezi. As we drove off the side of the road and bypassed a very rusted bridge, our experience with roads that were no longer roads was not at an end. In fact, it were just beginning. The ferry was somewhat clunky, but it was efficient and the pilot seemed to know what he was doing. We were loaded and $20 later we were unloaded in double quick time - about 40 minutes for this one.

Once on the other side we were in the flood plains. It would appear that the roads that had been built across these stood no chance against the water. Over time these roads had been rendered pretty damn useless, and they were more remnants of roads than roads themselves. In fact, these remnants made passage more interesting as you moved from tracks on either side of the road and over the road when your track became impassable. The good thing about this is that you were never able to fall asleep behind the wheel. Some bumping and grinding and regular contact with the middelmannetjie and we were eventually back on tar. As much as it pains me to admit it this statement has an element of relief in it. Lead foot Reid took over the reins and drove us the rest of the way to Mongu – with subtle references by me to spare fuel ‘cos you never know. (okay, I admit it – I’m a kak passenger) 100 km’s of very good tar later we arrived. However, this tar was showing signs of wear that suggest that it too, over time, will disintegrate.

We arrived quite early and topped up at the local, very respectable Shoprite. Dave managed to top up on Johnny Walker Black Label, incurring the wrath of a local, moneyed resident who was stocking up for a party and wanted all the bottles. Risking life and limb our intrepid photographer managed to wrest a bottle from her. Just as well – Ted’s Famous Grouse wouldn’t have lasted.

We caucused – do we push on or not? It was only another 125 Km’s to our camp in Liuwa. Sanity prevailed and we moved to the Mutoya Camp in Mongu. Without a 4x4 your chances of getting to this campsite and your own camp would be very slim indeed. The sand was very heavy. While really comfortable, neat and clean, with grass and very good ablutions, this was probably the least favourite of our sites. We were surrounded by walls and electric fencing – almost like camping in someone’s back yard. It was very functional as a transit camp, and really the only stop around. If the Plains ever really take off and more tourists visit, there would be a good opportunity for someone to do something outside of Mongu. But, I’m getting ahead of myself.

Oh bugger, no firewood, and this with a braai planned for the night!! This gave Simon and I an opportunity to see the sights of Mongu. We first went to one market which was as interesting and aromatic as most African markets are – with flies just as plentiful. We met an individual who could speak a smattering of English and he offered to guide us to the other market. Thankfully he did – we would still be looking if he hadn’t. This little escapade allowed me to offer some lightning observations – no wait, let me do that later.

The next day, while packing, we met our camping neighbours – Francois Viljoen and Charl Pauw (of SABC3 News, Sikorsky Helicopters and Africa Penguins 94.7 fame). They belong to an organisation called Open Africa which is trying to help “..link the splendours of Africa in a network of job creating conservation-oriented tourism routes from the Cape to Cairo”. This is a really interesting endeavour that I want to stay close to. (http://www.openafrica.org/)
We tried to buy some fuel - to no avail. We had been warned, but thought it was worth a bash to be on the safe side. One more stop at Shoprite to restock on some essentials and guess what – I got a bloody puncture in the parking lot. The only puncture on a trip of this nature and it’s in a shopping centre parking area – go figure!! With George and Dave’s help, it was very quickly resolved and we were off again. Just a short 125 km’s to our Lyangu campsite in the Liuwa Plains National Park. It shouldn’t take too long.

We left Mongu, down a steep road to drive through the “harbour”. There was a collection of boats going nowhere and not much water. But, by all accounts, during the rainy season the whole place is water. The differences between this section and the last were in the softness of the sand and the number of alternate tracks was greater.

Up, down, bump, scrape, up, down, bump, scrape – and so it went on. You start to lose track of time and almost get into a bumpy rhythm that, unless you’re Simon or his trailer - George, you can’t really rush. Around 20 km’s into the journey we just drove onto the Mongfe ferry which seemed to be waiting for us – slightly newer than the last, but just as efficient – and $20.

We then pushed on to Kalabo. This was an epic journey of 61 km’s from the Mutoya camp to Kalabo. It is really difficult for people back home to possibly begin to understand how slowly you can do 61 Km’s. It took us 3 hours – and 40Km’s of that was tar!!!

Kalabo is a really clean little town, with the appearance of, almost, a ghost town. Very few people, empty buildings and not much happening. After a little detour in the town, we paid our fees for the Park and hopped onto the Kalabo Pontoon. This was much more rustic and pleasurable - no diesel, just a rope pulled by the owner and the passengers. This only cost $10 – and covered the return trip. It took two vehicles across at a time river. While some (one) of us took photographs others helped propel the pontoon across and we were on the final leg.

The roads didn’t improve after the last leg, but we didn’t mind this. There wasn’t supposed to be a road. Tracks that are supposed to be tracks are easier to traverse than tracks that are supposed to be a road. Work that one out!! Now only 15 km’s to our Lyangu campsite in the reserve, stopping for a light lunch just inside the park.

We arrived there just after 15:00. This day’s total journey of 125 km’s took us 8 hours, including stops!!

This was probably some of the hardest driving that I have ever done. Not in terms of technicality, but in terms of sheer concentration and time. Women who are even moderately endowed would have found this stretch very uncomforatble. This was borne out by our one female traveller. I think I might have mentioned it, but I love my vehicle. It performed like a dream, only occasionally plowing the middelmannetjie. A word of caution to those drivers with the "soft" bumpers - like the standard Prados, LC 200's, Pajeros etc, I have an idea that they might have been damaged on this trail. With the proximity of the lumps in the road you started to achieve a rocking motion when you picked up speed. This ended up with the my bash plate on the ARB winch bar occasionally picking up debris. Without it I might have had an issue.

I’m dying to give you my observations on the trip and on Zambia, but have decided that I’ll wait until after the full account of the trip. In this way I won’t be tempted to go off on a tangent.

Liuwa Plains Zambia - The Moon is closer

2009-11-30T13:32:00.000+02:00

Some facts;
- We went to Liuwa Plains, Zambia to see the Wildebeest Migration and Wildebeest we did see. More on that later.
- We went to Liuwa Plains, Zambia for some excitement, some adventure and some fun. We had all of that.
- It took the Americans 3½ days to reach the Moon. It took us 5 days to reach the Liuwa Plains.

Charles Dickens wrote “It was the best of times, it was the worst of times ..” in a Tale of Two Cities. This is a fair summation of the journey to reach our destination. Through the next few hundred thousand words you should see this coming through. If you don’t, I believe that it might be through a lack of your own perspicacity rather than me trying to see something that doesn’t exist.

I should probably mention, at this stage, that I love my car.

I had spent many a sleepless night leading up to this trip. This was for two reasons; I was really excited – and – I had never travelled without our trailer and was continually working out how to pack everything in the Prado so that it would work for us. Us, in this case, being my trusty co-driver and photographer extraordinaire, Dave Reid and I. My normal travel buddies of Nes, Derek and Di were unable, through work pressures, to make this journey (don’t you just hate that work gets in the way of adventure? What happened to the barter system?). We had borrowed enough of Derek’s camping gear to make him almost feel that he was there.

Dave popped around to help on the day before departure and we got everything on and in the right place. We had to do one minor adjustment on the trip to make it easier. I was astounded!! Despite the overwhelming presence of Dave’s camera equipment we still had place to spare. This was largely due to the shelf that Kevin had built for the Prado’s boot. It is a really professional piece of kit, beautifully built and fitted, and was worth every hour that he spent on it. Radios, water, food, fridge, freezer, extra fuel, tent, stretchers, cameras, camping equipment, recovery equipment, clothing, bedding – were all accommodated.

It would be a correct assumption if you were to think that we drank a fair amount of beer (or whatever the preference was), and that every stop and pub was treated with the respect that it deserved, in the time honoured tradition of raising your glass to celebrate your arrival in a new place, or to celebrate that you had spent more than one day in a place. We never ran out of ice. I will not, as in previous blogs, belabour this point. Take it as read.

We’re off. An early start for us to Kwa Nokeng in Botswana. This start was unnecessary, but being the pain that I can sometimes be, I wanted to give us time to make sure that the packing worked and that we were actually able to erect the tent – without too many people watching the first attempt. It was a walk in the park, though it did take a number of attempts to refold the thing in the bag. In fact, we only really got it 100% right when it was cleaned – to be returned to its owner. We settled down, in incredible heat, beers in hand, to await the arrival of our fellow travellers. They arrived in drips and drabs. Our illustrious leader Simon, of Mafuyane Adventures, and his redoubtable granddad, Ted, arrived first. They were resplendent in their shiny new black Defender. Following them closely was George, in his green Isuzu. We weren’t sure whether it was a Lister Diesel generator arriving, or whether this was just the sound that an Isuzu makes. (It turns out that it’s just the sound of an Isuzu). This sound was to break, nay, shatter, the stillness of the bush on more than one occasion throughout the trip. Last were Kobus and Debbie – in their fully kitted out Land Cruiser – with all of the luxuries and necessities that could come with that. I had a sneaking suspicion that he loved his Toyota as much as I do mine. From there, to Elephant Sands,north of Francistown and 3 quarters of the way through Botswana. (http://www.elephantsands.com) Some of our party had a history with this site and we were welcomed with open arms by Jaco and Oom Ben and some “kuiering” took place late into the evening. Although this was just a transit camp for us it was an amazing opportunity to see Elephant coming, casually, to drink at the very nearby waterhole and an even more amazing opportunity to watch them sneak up at night to drink at the swimming pool – right next to the pub!! By the next morning Dave and I had found our rhythm. I would get up early, with the sunrise, to make coffee or tea, and snack on some of Nes’ fantastic rusks and have a smoke in the amazing stillness of an African morning. When that was done I would begin folding up my bed and stretcher, leaving Dave with the feeling that perhaps it was time to get up. He never complained, so he must have been happy. I never asked, just in case he wasn’t. Packing up camp was not a drawn out affair, and this was done before having a shower and then starting the next leg.

As an aside, we were amazingly spoilt throughout this trip, having access to running water and good showers and ablutions at every stop. Some were more rustic than others, but all were clean and worked. It was only at Liuwa that we did not have hot water, but given that the days hovered around 37 degrees this was certainly no hardship.

We had caucused and decided that a stop at Chobe River Lodge and a boat trip on the Chobe River, what the tourists do, was unnecessary and that we should rather push through to Kabula Lodge in Zambia. This involved two border crossings – into the Caprivi at Ngoma bridge and then into Zambia at Katima Mullilo. We stopped in Katima to refuel, having heard that fuel might be an issue in Zambia (it was) and to pay the road tax to traverse Namibia. As has proven the case in the past, Botswana and Namibia border posts were no issue, and even the disease control checks were less stringent than before. I assume that this was the result of the threat of foot and mouth disease being a lot lower than previously.

We had been warned that entrance into Zambia might challenge both your pocket and your patience, though nothing can prepare you for the rigmarole and weird charges. Thankfully it was a Saturday and the border post was quiet, so it was pretty much us vs the officials. And so it began. 1st stop, check and stamp your passport. No payment required. Next stop, Carbon Tax (R250). Next stop, 3rd Party Insurance (R250). Leave the building and go to a mobile home that looked like a hot dog stand to pay the Road Tax ($20). Next stop, under a makeshift gazebo, some other tax ($20). Next stop, in a dilapidated caravan, council tax ($10). Final stop, security and vehicle check, but thankfully we were just waved through. I believe that, with the wrong official, this can be a draining experience as they look for potential reasons to issue a fine for a myriad of potential reasons. Among these could be – no reflective stickers, no fire extinguisher etc. At this stage, despite the rigmarole that we had been through we started to witness the incredible hospitality and friendliness of the Zambian people that was to remain in evidence throughout our stay there. Amazingly welcoming and helpful. Anyway, just over an hour and R800 later, we were through and into Zambia and off the tar – yippee!!! 60 km’s to Kabula. We should be there in no time.

A couple of km’s on the dirt and we were starting to wonder what they did with the road tax. Clearly it wasn’t spent on road maintenance. We were hit by torrential rain and the roads were quickly turned into muddy rivers and we slowed down to a crawl, with hazards on as visibility was really low. For the “less than die hard campers” amongst us the prospect of putting up a tent in this weather was looking far from attractive. Little feelers were being put out over the radio to see if perhaps, just perhaps, there might be a chalet or two vacant at Kabula. The disdain from the “die hards” was palpable.

A “little” while later we arrived at Kabula Lodge – and the Zambezi River. (http://www.kabulalodge.com) Those of us that are not accustomed to majestic rivers are always rendered a little speechless (never completely speechless) by the sight of this river and the valley. It is magnificent, and such a boon to the spirit. While the wind blew and the rain fell we celebrated our arrival with a beer or two, and set about negotiating accommodation in a chalet. With three of us sharing (Dave, George of the Isuzu [my word, can he snore!] and I) it proved to be more than reasonable and the decision was very quickly made – chalet it was. Had another beer. Simon and Ted also chose a chalet and Kobus and Debbie chose their tent.
A good dinner (as they all were) courtesy of Simon, with his magnificent bread, and we turned in relatively early and in relative comfort. Though, to say that our tent and stretchers were not comfortable would be a misnomer. We never had a bad night on those stretchers, and never woke up sore or tired.

Today is Tiger fishing day!! In lieu of Chobe we decided on an extra night at Kabula. What a great idea!! Despite our thoughts of lying in, we were up early and off – looking like true fishermen. Dave with his camera to take pictures of me catching fish. Yeah – right!! It turns out that anything with a cat like name, other than a leopard, remains to be discovered by me. It was to be a 2 hour fishing trip. Five hours later we returned – with a triumphant Dave having caught a 3 Kg Tiger and having lost two – and me having one measly take and hooking buggerall, left taking pictures of Dave. The other boat had one each for Simon and George. My fishing record remains intact. If I retire to fish, my family will starve. Do you know how many times “when I caught my Tiger Fish” can be worked into a conversation when there’s just you and the bush? I was to find out – many many times.
Having thoroughly enjoyed our stay at Kabula, a really great spot that we must return to, we were off bright and early to Mongu – the last step before the plains. This was a trip of 255 Km’s. Easy we thought. As we drove the road became steadily worse and the progress slower.

Khwai Moremi - The Personal Side

2009-08-05T08:16:00.000+02:00

Having said, in my mails, that the account was written for the Four Wheel Drive Club, I did find it somewhat restrictive to do so. If I do another one for that publication I'll probably just go for the normal approach - it's a lot easier.

I'm in the process of adding a few more personal details on this trip for my loyal readers - so be sure to visit again.

Two months later - so I still haven't managed to do this. Work keeps getting in the way of fun!! What a pain. Does anyone have any suggestions how I can change this and still maintain a good lifestyle?

Anyway, what I have done in the interim? I have fitted a snorkel. I've been told that it's "very butch" and not the prettiest thing around, but it should stand me in good stead for the forthcoming trip to Zambia and Liuwa plains in November. My normal sidekicks have deserted me for this recce trip, but I have an able replacement (I hope he can put up a tent) in Dave Reid. More on this later I'm sure and hopefully bring back stories and adventures and information to be used on another trip. Oh yes, I've also fitted a VHF radio for clearer and long distance calls on this trip.

Think I'm bad - ha!! My mate Derek has, in his words, succumbed to menopause and bought himself a two door sports car. A new Land Rover Defender 90 - a short wheel base in case you didn't know. And - it hasn't taken him long to catch up (or overtake) in extras.

The normal crew will be doing a trip, in the name of conservation, to Borokalalo in October - to do fence patrols. We will then test the new additions to the 4x4 families.

Khwai Moremi - The Khwai – Xakanaxa Classic

2009-07-26T16:46:00.000+02:00

I agonised over a title for this trip – short of being boring and merely announcing where we’d been. Further on in is this account is a journey that brings to mind the Charge of the Light Brigade. However, upon reflection, there is no way that any trip that has Sylvo, Derek, Pete and Gerhard in it can be called Light – hence the change.

At last escaping the Highveld cold (and Hank and Pete - the Natal cockroaches), we arrived in drips and drabs in Kwa Nokeng. Some of us were given an early taste of things to come as a Hippo made its leisurely way past the campsite as we’d settled down for the first beer of the holiday. A burger and boerie braai that night and we made the acquaintance of our fellow travellers. You will meet them all through this account. For those mathematically inclined or easily confused there were 15 travellers and 9 vehicles. This is easily explained - while travelling together a number had decided that they all wanted to test the mettle of their respective vehicles – with varying degrees of success as it turned out.

A really frosty Saturday morning, we chipped the ice off the tents and, hands freezing, were off for the long pull to Audi Camp in Maun, stopping briefly (or not so) in Mopipi to refuel. The pace was fairly sedate given that we were making allowance for Her Majesty’s Vehicle (Sylvo’s rather green Defender) and, of course, the movie in the California was clearly distracting “he who cannot be named” – henceforth known by a random, alphabetically selected, nom-de-plume of Alistair. Wild horses cannot drag his real name from me.

Arriving in Audi Camp we set up camp in double quick time, clearly a bunch of seasoned campers, (or was it thirsty) and settled down for an evening of drinks and more acquainting. The first meal provided by Simon, of Mafunyane Adventures, with his staff of Fana and Pius, let us know that we had indeed chosen the correct guide. Come whatever adventures, we would at least be well fed. We were also introduced to the red 5 litre Jerry Can. Simon had clearly learned, from Kingsley Holgate, that there were some things that a traveller just has to have on a trip. Rumour has it that Alistair and Sylvo carried out a late night sortie to reduce the volume of music coming from a nearby campsite, hosted by a somewhat grumpy Lourens. They must have been extremely successful in their venture as the rest of us slept quite peacefully.

The next morning saw a leisurely start, with some taking the Delta flight and others merely taking their time before a great brunch. We might have got away a little earlier had we not had some delays with refuelling that saw one of our number nearly achieve a 1st for the FWDCSA - being locked up in a Maun prison. He did, however, eventually make it out to where the rest were waiting on the dirt road on the way to Moremi, via the Mababe Village, to have a look at the deep water crossing over the Khwai River. We stopped at the village and were informed that it was impassable, but that someone had created a ford a little further back. We found that and crossed it with the minimum of fuss, though with a little excitement as Gerhard’s rather wide and heavy Cruiser tested the handy work and the California tested the middle mannetjie.

Other than a few Hippos, Elephants, Zebras, the ubiquitous Impala and a taste of wonderful bird life, the track to our camp at the Khwai Community Campsite went with little ado. The were moments of confusion as some drivers were temporarily distracted by the unusual plumage of a bird on top of another vehicle going in a different direction, but being the seasoned travellers that they were, they made it back on track.

What followed was the normal activity as we established a more permanent camp than we had to date, this particularly true of those with trailers and ground tents. This included the erection of showers, toilets and groundsheets being laid. Part of the preparation was for Derek to lay a game fence around a few tents by means of pouring a ring of Jeyes Fluid around a few tents. To this day we don’t whether that measure was effective, or if it was the snoring that kept most animals at bay. It wasn’t much, but it was home. That done most vehicles left in different directions to explore our surroundings, with some good sightings of the animals and an early Fish Eagle to ensure that Di had started to meet her quota.

Later the crew started to gather to ensure that our first real bush sunset was witnessed with sufficient celebration. It was abundantly clear that there was no danger that people would run out of liquid sustenance before this trip was over. While sitting around the campfire, having a few drinks and enjoying yet another great meal, Roman proceeded to demonstrate that a joke told with gusto did not need to have a good punchline to be funny. Supported by garlic schnapps this was to be a feature that kept us in stitches throughout the trip.
Those that had been “disturbed” by the music the night before took an early night and got their snores in early. What a cacophony!! I don’t think that I have ever heard as many different timbres and volumes. If we were waiting for the quiet of the bush to set in, think again – it never happened. I don’t believe it for a moment, but I am told that I that I also contributed. No self respecting wild animal was coming anywhere near!! Despite this disturbance, a hyena did manage to steal the top of Roman’s cooler box to chew a few holes in it.

The next morning we were up bright and early to see if there was game around. This departure was led Steve and Meg, though some were dragged out of bed by their partners to participate earlier than they had anticipated. Some went north and some south. Those of us that went north were rewarded by and early sighting of Wild Dogs – always something special.
Given the late and heavy rains in Angola, Moremi had far more water than usual at this time of the year and we were “forced” to drive through some fairly deep patches of water to get where we were going, and some mud holes were approached like school kids, just to get it out of our systems. One ford looked particularly deep and was approached with gusto by the Britzs and Pikes – water coming over the hoods. Seeing this Geoff and Bruno turned around. They were not scared, they were just driving an Isuzu. Once on the other side we encouraged a Swiss traveller to get through. When he did we realised that taking the right (not the one we took) line would have been far less interesting.

Back for great brunch and some “camp maintenance” (this involved checking the inside of our eyelids for cracks). The bush shower and toilet had been set up and were looking quite civilised. Later on great use was made of these amenities by those that wanted to, some voluntarily and some under duress. It is a truism that having ladies on a trip makes the men a little cleaner.

It was around about now that Roman’s Nissan was declared US, with the most horrific screeching emanating from his fanbelt and the advice in his manual being to refer it to the dealer – a bit difficult where we were. His “friends” advised him, to his bitter disappointment, that it would be best to park it until we left. He was relegated to riding in Her Majesty’s Vehicle as a spotter and navigator. The California was also parked – as capable as it had proven to be, it wasn’t a 4x4 and Alistair joined that crew.

More hilarity was on offer that night, with people being a little stronger than the night before. Some commentary was directed our way as we dined around a table, with a tablecloth and overhead light. Very civilised. Alistair’s table and chairs had been co-opted by Gerhard and Pete and they too were quite comfortable. That night was a little later that previously, with fair amounts of red wine being consumed. Hawk Eye Hank picked up Hyena’s skirting the camp, only to have their retinas burned by Sylvo’s torch. I have never ever seen anything that size!! This was followed by half the camp going on a night drive – I’m still blissfully unaware of whether it was successful or not.

We had decided that we were going to go to Xanakaxa and possibly 3rd Bridge for a drive the next day. What might become apparent to you is that I appeared to miss a couple of things, this being one of them. The purpose of the trip still escapes me, but nonetheless we were up early and off to North Gate for a brunch stop, and then on to Xakanaka. It was a relatively sedate drive until we stopped at the Hippo Pool in Moremi Game Reserve. Time was checked and we decided that a bit of speed was required to make sure that we had sufficient time to make it back to our camp. There followed a “rally” with Steve and Meg performing the task of keeping the two ends of the convoy in touch. We arrived in Xanakaxa in a cloud of dust and pulled up to the boat hire station.

What now? We’d determined that, in current conditions, 3rd Bridge was a little far away. Sylvo, Gerhard, Roman, Pete, Alistair, Steve and Meg hired a boat to take a short tour in the swamps and Simon, Gavin, Vanessa, Hank, Derek, Di, Geoff and Bruno made our way back to Moremi – thinking that we’d make it just before sundown, and that the boat trippers would be late.
As an aside, I’m not sure whether it was the speed or the focus on a fairly winding road that led us to conclude that there wasn’t a helluva lot of game in the Moremi reserve, and that we had seen more in our neck of the woods. I suspect that it was a combination of the speed and the fact that there was such an abundance of water that the game didn’t have to move much. We were, however, treated to regular sightings of Red Lechware, which are not a species that we get to see that often.

The lead convoy, being the more sedate of the group, found our way back to Moremi just as the sun was going down. A long day – with one or two more days Xakanaxa should possibly considered as a stop for future trips, rather than a day turnaround – but that might just be my opinion. Imagine our surprise when HMV pulled in very shortly after us followed by Pete and Gerhard in the Cruiser and Steve and Meg in the Pajero, having been at least an hour behind at the start. This then was the Moremi – Xakanaxa Classic Race. Some detractors claimed that this would unlikely have been defined as a race had Sylvo, Alistair and Roman not arrived first, after some sterling navigation through the mud by Roman (reportedly). Nonetheless, the laurels were claimed with exuberance and a prize giving was arranged by said trio. Prizes were handed over and accepted with much pomp and ceremony, befitting a more momentous race occasion. An equal amount of congratulations and aspersions were heaped upon the “victors”. A great evening was had by all, with Hawk Eye again finding passing Hyena.
With the sound of Lion and Hyena lulling us to sleep (okay, it was probably too much alcohol) the next day the early risers were treated to an early sighting of the only Lion we (not the greater we) were to see and Steve and Meg managed a stunning Leopard sighting. Others raced to the spot and managed to catch a fleeting glimpse.

The rest of the day was spent at leisure, with some being forced out of the camp by the screech of a car alarm from the California – whose owner had disappeared with “the boys” for a much anticipated braai. We ended up spending the afternoon at a waterhole and being entertained by a lone Hippo then a leisurely drive along the river, followed by some lazy sundowners to end the day with a really nice touch of an Elephant greeting our arrival back in the camp. A, by then, normal evening followed. Any account of it would now be repetition – good food, good company, many laughs.

Friday morning saw us packing up to end the stay in Moremi and finding our way back to Maun. We tried a different crossing of the river to get back, but were forced along the same route that we had come and again experienced no hassles - back on the road and a very dusty trip back to Audi Camp. Oh yes, in case you had forgotten, even Roman’s Nissan made it back without a hitch. Conceivably the advice that he had received from his “friends” was not the best. Once there it dawned that the trip was on its way to a close, despite the fact that we had an evening there and would be stopping in at Khama Rhino Sanctuary on the way back to SA.

Given the hassles of taking meat South down Botswana Simon had chosen to let the restaurants of both establishments provide the last few meals and so we were not to be spoiled by his culinary expertise on those last two nights. Both evenings were well attended and well enjoyed, with the stop in Khama heralding the cold that we would be feeling back in SA.

Well done Simon, great trip – well organised, well fed and well guided. We will travel with you again. To all of you on the trip, thanks for the laughs, camaraderie and entertainment. You made this trip and we met some really genuine people that we would hope to travel with again.

On a trip like this you learn some things;
· That game viewing a part of the experience and not a goal in itself
· That travelling is always enhanced by people who are relaxed, friendly and out to enjoy themselves.
· That when you can’t identify a bird its either a juvenile or a Penguin
· That you leave the Jeyes Fluid at home if you want animals in your camp (still might have been the snoring)
· Simon’s food was better than a restaurant
The sight of a large steel bridge being built over the river was disappointing. It is going to become far too easy for people to get here. This would hold true for many of the places that are special in Africa. I guess the trick is to keep looking and keep travelling.

Camp Khwai in Moremi - nearly time

2009-07-06T10:19:00.000+02:00

It's almost that time again - the Britzs and Pikes (with 1 more) are off into the bush again - and I cannot wait. It's quite scary that we almost live from holiday to holiday - or am I the only one that does this? "Existing" at work to get the shekels together for the next break. Some feedback on this point would be interesting.

So, we're off to Botswana again, possibly one of my favourite countries in the world. This time to Moremi, in the Okavango. Possibly a little more organised than before - we're going with the FWDCSA and they're doing all of the arrangements and the food for breakfast and supper.

The trusty steed (my beloved Prado in case you didn't know) has received another little upgrade. This time Old Man Emu shocks, front and rear, with an extra coil spring at the rear for the trailer. Those of you that read of our Caprivi jaunt would have remembered me talking about the need for this. (yes - it is a need) However, that extra 6cm's height also makes it look SO cool. Having already been with the Britzs to Qwantani, at the Sterkfontein Dam, the vehicle was really loaded and already I can attest to the success of the suspension upgrade. What a good ride, but what a kak place. Definitely a case of "been there, done that". Great chalets and pubs, but not much around other than wind.

After attending a 4x4 Recovery course I also added a high-lift jack - having been convinced that it is a very necessary piece of equipment. I know what you're going to say now so - yes - it also looks SO cool. Problem though, I have to now remove the accessories for the vehicle to fit in the garage. I could leave it out, but Joburg is bollock freezing cold at the moment and I have no wish to climb into a frozen car in the morning.

Those of you that know the Pike family (of Granny's Abrahamson descent) will not be surprised to know that we're already almost finished packing - days before we go - and the beers already in the fridge (that's from Dumpy's side). Nes's (new Indian name "Trips while running with dogs") arm is out of plaster, so things are looking good.

Hank is joining us for this jaunt. I think his reading of my blogs have got him to the point that he can't resist anymore. We're really looking forward to this as we haven't had much time for anything other than fleeting visits for quite a long time. I have already told the others in the convoy that he will be joining, but haven't yet broken the news that he is a Sharks supporter. I hope that this isn't a problem.

So, we're soon off. There has apparently been so much water there that we're not quite sure what to expect - and that makes it even more exciting. Luckily my co-driver is taller than usual this time, so he can check out the water beforehand. We know that we'll have animals in the camp site, and that the ablutions are rudimentary enough (being supplied by ourselves and the guide), and that we have to take our own water. (Needless to say, I do have 20l of mineral water for whisky - the rest I'm less worried about.) It's sounding better and better. The kid's are staying at home, though I'm not too sure whether that is thankfully or reluctantly.

Wish us luck and watch this space.

On top of the world - in Barkly East

2009-01-22T15:15:00.009+02:00

Take it from me, if you don’t think that Al Gore has sufficient integrity - Global Warming is a fact. It’s either that, or the ANC have managed to break more than we imagined.

All dressed and ready to go. Car packed (and I mean really packed), trailer packed (and I mean really packed) - we were ready to start the first part of our journey to the hamlet of Barkly East in the early hours of the morning. All of sudden wind and rain, the likes of which I have never seen, arrived. Within a few short minutes our patio and furniture was drenched, a tree in our driveway was uprooted and our back wall was blown over. The drenching of our, hitherto dry, entranceway led to me slipping and cracking two ribs on my way to turning off the electric fence - which had a tree attached to it. If that wasn’t a mini hurricane, then I cannot even begin to imagine what a real one might be like. It came screaming down our little valley and blew over a host of walls and trees in our street, and was gone.
With me groaning like a stuck pig at every move and every turn in bed, and the wall and tree, we delayed our intended departure. Dumpy, I apologise profusely for laughing when you cracked your ribs playing soccer all those years ago – I had no idea how bloody uncomfortable it is.

We called in the troops, and the insurance company. While I was at the doc, Kev and Courtney went to Builders Warehouse at 07:00 and even with his buggered arm, with the help of Courtney, Morgz, Drew and Jeffery, fashioned a wall repair and cleaned up a bit. Armed with ampoules of Voltaren and syringes we managed to get away at 10:30 – with the insurance arranging to remove tree. Between Kev and I we were a holiday group that was 40% crippled, but on holiday nonetheless. And true little solider that I am, I drove. Truth to be told, it was the only way to get comfortable.
We thought that we might sleep over depending on the time, but the trip was relatively uneventful (you get that with a Toyota) and we made good time.

I hadn’t been to Barkly East since our honeymoon (26 years ago), but the road and the farms started to look familiar and nostalgia came flooding back. I’m not sure how successfully I contained this, but my passengers were polite enough not to say anything as Nes and Morgz cracked a beer. The Holderness road was pretty much as I remembered it, but being older and after a long day it seemed a bit longer. I have stated before that, 99.9% of the time, if you listen to Garmin it gets you to where you want to go. This time was no exception, and it was spot on – despite Courtney’s tour of the township last year.

What a great welcome from the Turnbulls (Ian, Sharon, Justin and Chantelle), and the Murrays (Roland, Jenny, Tara, Tarryn, Uncle Willy and Auntie Pat) who had arrived a little earlier. It was stunning to see everyone again, and to meet Tara and Tarryn for the 1st time. What a pity we’d let so much time pass. To Sharon, 11 degrees is more than a “little chilly” in mid-summer!!
A couple of beers and snacks while the kids unpacked, and then a welcome bed in the “Big House”. All our lives we’d been led to believe that this place was haunted, which the Turnbulls found hugely amusing. Numbed by beer, fatigue and voltaren, this was the least of our worries. However, I can state categorically now – “Ma, it isn’t haunted”. What a place, and so much history too.

What followed on the social front was an amazing Xmas day, one of our very best, hosted by Denis and Meloney Giddy at their farm, fun at a party on Boxing Day arrange by Chantelle and the Murray girls and a tennis afternoon and braai at the tennis club. Some fed hans lambs, calves and pigs. We explored for fascinating crystals on Holderness. Courtney and Kevin walked up the side of a mountain and I even managed to get some 4x4’ing in halfway up Ian’s mountain road. Morgz learned to milk a cow (sort of) and shoot. However, this did not assuage a surprising desire to kill something.

We all took a day’s outing through Rhodes (where we toasted the memory of our Dads sitting in the pub while we waited in the car, and they managed to buy homebrewed beer disguised as Black Label) , up Naudes Nek (2500m) and some more 4x4’ing via the Patrol Road (a road used to patrol the border between SA and Lesotho for stock thieves at 2694m) along the Lesotho border (a normal little barbed wire fence), past Ben MacDhui (the highest point in SA), past Tiffendell and down one of the steepest public roads I’d ever been on, to Wartrail and then home (Holderness).

We learned a few of things on this outing;
· If Ian says an hour – it’s probably longer
· Driving in the driving rain, on dirt, down steep hills, raises the heartbeat
· Just because it’s a 4x4 doesn’t mean that it won’t slide on dirt (mud) with a diff lock on, especially when possibly driving a teensy bit faster than necessary.
· You’re not a sissy if you engage low range.

Apart from some of the most breathtaking scenery in the country, that makes you never want to leave, our Barkly East trip and stay had us experience some of the most magnificent hospitality and openness that we’ve ever experienced. I could go on about this for hours, but it’ll no doubt embarrass the people. Ian and Sharon were amazing. Thanks so much to you for what that you did for us; we cannot even begin to explain how much we enjoyed being there, and how much we appreciated everything. And - the food – oh my word – the food. The way that Denis and Meloney just opened their house to us for an outstanding Xmas was amazing. (Denis, I think that I still have some credit at the tennis club that I’ll have to collect on and thank you again). And Justin, thanks for the time that you gave up for your “townie” relatives. We had great fun.

Roland and Jen – it was wonderful to spend time with you and your family. It really made for a complete Xmas. I am just somewhat perturbed about the disappearance of the two priests that gave Auntie Pam a lift.

I know that none of you are likely to pop up to Egoli for fun, but if you do, don’t think of staying anywhere else than with us. However, given the chances of that, we’ll just have to come and see you all again.

The 5 Rivers of the Caprivi - The Cherry on the Top

2008-09-18T06:57:00.034+02:00

13 August – We’re heading back into Botswana, and it’s suddenly dawned that the holiday that stretched endlessly before us two weeks ago is now, all too swiftly, drawing to a close. But bugger that, we will not allow that thought to dampen the enthusiasm for the next trip. Glass half full, remember.

Kalizo to the Ngoma border post was not a long way away, but we didn’t waste too much time on getting going. We had planned to drive through the Chobe National Park, along the Chobe River, to Kasane, which was our next stop. However, at the back of our minds we had this little thought that we might, just might, be able to get into the highly acclaimed, but difficult to get hold of, Ihaha camp in the Chobe. We would not have measured the success of our trip on this, but we did think that an earlyish start might help.

Ngoma Border post was not huge, and was as pleasant an experience as all of the others that we had been through to date. We were checked a little more diligently for meat than before, and I think Nes and I still bear the scars of the sight of the inspection lady’s butt as it stuck out of the back of Derek’s car. It reminded us of some of those Garfield toys wedged in doors. A tube of lip-ice for her sore lips, and we were through. On the Botswana side there were a bunch of long distance truckers waiting and we expected a delay, but they just waved us through. So far, SA, Botswana and Namibia border posts had surprised and impressed us. Well done to all of them – they made travelling so much easier.

Through, and almost directly into Chobe – yet another really helpful Botswana National Parks lady – and we were into it. She ticked our hopes up a notch when she suggested that talking nicely to the guys at Ihaha might yield a good result. Although the reputation of this Park was good, our experience with game, so far, had led us to temper our expectations as far as that was concerned. However, as a 360 degree experience, we were still way ahead.
The road was rocky in places and sandy in others as we went off the main road onto the road along the river. Remember, we were still pulling our trailers. Lesser vehicles and trailers would have made this very challenging. Have I mentioned that I love my car?

Are those animals that we see – yes!!! Zebra first, 100’s of them (enough to lead Nes and Derek to decide that we could do with a Zebra rug), then Nes and I getting excited about a lone elephant, then young Kudu males – with amazing horns, then Sable and Roan antelope. Dare we hope? We arrived at Ihaha, a camp run by Botswana National Parks, to lunch time at reception – so no one to ask. We found what looked like an open spot with possibilities and had lunch, after having an argument with some German tourist who wanted the whole place to himself. After lunch we drove up to reception and Derek put on his best salesman manner and secured us an “unreserved spot”. At this stage, it would be fair to point out that Ihaha was not truly a commercial venture, but an open area in the reserve, with 8 reserved sites and a bunch of unreserved sites and two newish ablution blocks. Reserved sites were flat, with a braai and a baboon proof rubbish bin. Unreserved sites were not necessarily as flat, with no braai and no rubbish bin, and a fair walk to the ablution blocks. Given that this was an open area with no fences, it was more advisable to drive to the ablution blocks anyway.

With the trailers, levelling was done with a spade, rubbish bins with a packet, and electricity had not been an issue all the way. We grabbed a great spot, behind a big tree, and formed a laager (no not a lager) with the vehicles and trailer, and built a braai with rocks behind the tree. We needed to be fairly enclosed and to be able to light up our living area at night. Oh yes, in case you thought different, we started this process at about 2:30. This discussion took longer than normal because of some of the design considerations. At this stage it became apparent that not only men could think about erections as Nes proceeded to guide Derek and I on exactly where to place them (the tents). We “checked her skeef” at first (what does a girl know), but she was right!!

All done in double quick time, cooler boxes packed (definitely no citrus), and we were going for a game drive in separate cars – not because we tired of each other, but because this is good planning where there’re are elephant around (hopefully) – one can run while the other is trampled.

Part of our trip was to collect firewood from the bush as this was not sold at the camp. We would see a likely piece, shout “look out for lions” jump out, grab it and throw it onto the roof rack. We collected quite a lot that way, and also managed some exercise and an adrenalin rush. Saw a bit of game and then Derek announced over the radio that he thought we had found the factory for all of the elephant dung we’d seen. Around the corner – elephants everywhere. In the river, in the bush, on the flood plain, on the road. We quickly realised we were on their crossing path (which was everywhere), the Britz’s went forward and we reversed – to be separated by a veritable herd of elephants, of all sizes. Some idiots, French this time, tried to overtake me when I reversed and eventually realised that that wouldn’t have been a good idea. When the small crossing had finished, they disappeared in a cloud of dust. Sometimes people make you wonder.
I have never seen that many elephants together – even in movies. It really was an amazing sight, and one that we just took in. There were also Giraffe, Buffalo, Kudu, Baboons, Meerkat and, of course, Warthog. There was also the most amazing collection of birds – water birds and raptors. Just being a twitcher in this place would have been enough. To top it all, Fish Eagles abounded. This piece could have been entitled “Di’s quest for the perfect Fish Eagle”. No bird was left unphotographed. In fact, there was one slightly scruffy individual who was missed and who has now registered an official complaint.
All too soon the sun was setting and we wanted to be back at our camp to do the meal and settle with a few beers – which we duly did. While doing our bit in this, we heard some noises in the grass across the track. I turned on my spots and nearly blinded some elephants browsing close by. We weren’t too late that night, and listened to the sound of the wild as we slept (with our porta toilet inside the tent this time - none of us were going out there), hyenas, Zebra, elephants amongst them. This was an utterly amazing experience.

14 August Morning!! Derek, who was now doubling as our bushman tracker, circled the camp looking for spoor. Me, I’m not convinced, but there were now buffalo right where the elephant had been the night before.
While we were packing brunch to have on the trail, the biggest baboon that I have ever seen came quietly into the camp and stole some of the food off the Britz’s trailer. This thing was huge – stood nearly as tall as me on its back legs – I just shouted (no kicking for me) and it slunk off, totally unhurried, but made a duck when we grabbed the catties.
On the way we had a great sighting of Black Backed Jackal, Hippos, Crocodiles, Giraffe and pretty much everything that we’d seen the day before, just more. We were told by a passing guide that Lion has been spotted near the Serondela picnic site – got there, nothing. This, of course might have something to do with the fact that I heard “they’re about 5 Km’s away near a village” and Nes heard “near the picnic site on the ridge”. There was no village, but there was a ridge. Guess who was right? On our way back the midday river crossing of elephant had begun and we were entertained by families crossing and playing in the water, and the remarkable protection of the baby elephants.
Popped back to the camp for a butt break and chased some monkeys away. They weren’t nearly as insistent as others that we’d come across. On the way out we took the road less travelled and were rewarded with a sighting of a Kori Bustard (my first – the largest flying bird). Also buck, giraffe and buffalo – lots and lots of buffalo. It was a thoroughly pleasant afternoon. While on our way back to the camp to start a braai, we were forced to stop for buffalo crossing the track. 45 minutes later, we were still stopped. There must have been 2000+ that passed. How cool – that’s what Africa must have looked like before white people came on the scene.

It was starting to get dark, so we drove gingerly through the still coming herd, and caught the most magnificent sunset over the water on the way back. Not only that, Nes and I were lucky enough to see a mom and cub Brown Hyena playing nearby.Shower and braai tonight (both together – what a treat). It’s at this stage that I need to point out that what has become a trademark braai for Derek, (lots of fire, lots of coal and lots of beer, and normally quite late) led to the highlight of our trip.
Skip through the detail, and picture the scene. Food’s been eaten, drinks have been drunk, coffee and nightcaps are on their way – nearly time for bed. It’s full moon, we’re really chilled and just so happy to be where we are – this somewhat dusty, wonderful place in the middle of the reserve. A little noise – we step out from behind our tree and look (with little head torches – note to self – buy a decent bloody torch) and there are some elephants, babies and adults. Now that bit was cool. The somewhat less “cool” bit was that they were surrounding the baby protectively and looking at us with some intent. Okaaaay! Derek whispers, “turn your lights off, quietly move behind the fire (bugger, I hope that rumour is true – that wild animals are scared of fire), stand still and don’t say a word”. We did that – 4 fairly big people behind a fairly small fire – thankfully behind a big tree – and the elephants just glided through our campsite, front and back – almost close enough to touch. No smell, no sound. They just glided into the dark. WOW!! Was that ever intense? We needed that nightcap. The adrenalin was pumping. As Derek put it afterwards – “we were an integral part of an elephant’s decision making process”.
In the aftermath I was reminded to put the rubbish bag into the boot of the car. I forgot and went to bed. Nes reminded me again, but I was too tired (lazy) to do anything about it. In the middle of the night, there was a scratching noise, and the trailer was moving. O vrek, what now? A Honey Badger had paid us a visit and was having a great deal of fun with our packet. Anyone that knows these little buggers knows that they’re pretty hard headed and can be somewhat dangerous. (bugger - cameras are in the cars) Nes sticks her head out the tent to have a better look – “oh look, isn’t he cute”. The “cute” animal responded by trying to have a much closer look at Nes. Her head was pulled in with alacrity. He eventually shredded everything and left. Other than the sound of hyenas, very close, and other animals, the night passed uneventfully.

No question – this we’ve got to do again, and we definitely don’t want to leave now. But as they say, all good things come to an end. I’m getting to the age now when I’m saying – “bugger what they say, why do they have to?”
15 August. How sad, no more camping. This was by far the dustiest camp that we had been in yet, what a blast!! After we’d packed and showered (yes, it was that dusty) we hitched up the trailers and were, once more, on our way. We took the main dirt road out of the park to get some more viewing in, and stop at the Serondela picnic site for brunch – and then onwards. This road was really sandy and pretty challenging. We did pass some people (Germans) that were stuck and I even had to engage low range. Again, if it weren’t for these vehicles and trailers, we would’ve had more of an adventure than we would possibly have liked.
Other than that, the rest of the drive out was uneventful. We were on our way to Kasane and the Chobe River Lodge for our last real night. A little voice over the radio – “Gav, I’m getting pretty low of fuel, best we fill up”. (Remember my comment on filling up in Katima?) Okay, well let’s go then. Get to the first garage – no diesel. Oh dear. The next is 9 km’s away and we could almost hear Derek’s vehicle sucking air. Got to the next – pumps are down – computer glitch – can’t fill up. The thing that kills me every 1300 km’s was very welcome now – I have a 180 litre tank. Did I mention that I love my car? We took what was left in all of our jerry cans, about 5 litres and resolved to limp back into Kasane and hope to get lucky the next day. As we did that we noticed that the pumps had started working again – to our great relief. We have all resolved that the mantra by which we travel – fill up when you can – will be religiously adhered to in future.
I now come to a decision point in my writing – to go on and finish the journey, or stop and leave the rest for another day. Bugger that – I’ll go on. I don’t think that you or I have the energy for another one.
Arrived at the Chobe River Lodge, but it was too early to check in. You see – it wasn’t 2:30 yet. So we did the next best thing – we sat on the patio and drank some beer, and booked a booze cruise for later. At 2:30 (I promise) we checked in and got ready for the cruise. As fate would have it, given Di’s fixation, our boat was called the Fish Eagle II.
We climbed aboard and annexed the roof. Not too many other people seemed that keen. Better grab a beer. Over the afternoon, we grabbed more than one. We went on a very sedate cruise. Given that we had been so spoiled by game in the last two days, this was about enjoying the total experience (and the beer) than it was necessarily about seeing more elephants and buffalo. However, the bird life was astounding and we were to see birds that only existed in this area. It was fantastic and well rounded off by a spectacular sunset, through some bush fires, over the Chobe River.
That night, more beers and a great buffet dinner – with wine and whisky - a very civilised way to finish off a really amazing journey. That night we slept really well in beds, and arose to a hearty hotel breakfast before setting off on the long journey home.
I won’t dwell on that other than to say spots of the road to Francistown had potholes that were really challenging and dangerous, nothing like the Botswana roads that we had become used to. We slept over at the Desert Sands Motel in Palapye (in somewhat dodgy surrounds), had dinner and breakfast in the Wimpy, and made our rather (thankfully) uneventful way home – again via Stockpoort and Parrs Halt – and stopping off outside of Vaalwater at the local game butchery to stock up until the next time.
I know that this has been a series of long stories, and I hope that I’ve done the trip justice. I’ve tried to share some of the enthusiasm and excitement that we had for every day - some of the fun and adventure that we experienced, and some of the camaraderie that there was on this trip. The trip was really well planned, a good mix of travel, rest and excitement. D&D, you two missed your vocation. Despite some of my flippant comments, we could not have chosen better travelling companions. Derek and Di are experienced adventurers, and that experience was invaluable in making this trip smooth. For those of you that remember the dubbed TV show – he is the real Jopie Adam. And guess what – they’re also a helluva lot of fun and great mates too. For those of you that know Nes (or in this case – don’t), she never surprised me with what she can, will and did do. I’ve seen that on every trip we’ve done so far. In the old cowboy parlance (those of you that know the Sacketts) “she’s a woman that walks beside you”. It is always amazing for me to be able to spend these quiet, fun times and to share these adventures with you.
Just for you to get a feel for the poetry (I didn’t say it was good) that can come out of someone on a trip where you only have you, your mates, the bush and the sky – here is the promised summary of the 5 Rivers of the Caprivi.

The Zambezi - Imperious, unstoppable
The Okavango – Contained, slightly urgent, rushing to fill the Delta
The Kavango – Softer, more gentle. The place of sunrises and sunsets
The Kwando – A haven, restful, meandering, easing its way through the dryness
The Chobe – Nurturing and life giving, a gathering point

In summary, I won’t go all trite and say that you must do this trip. We know our kids would have loved this, and we thought about them in nearly every situation and have resolved to do something similar with them soon. We hope the Britz’s will join us. If you can too – do it. The trailer refuses to rest.

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

2008-09-12T07:04:00.036+02:00

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.

The 5 Rivers of the Caprivi - The journey starts and we discover the Hippo Whisperer

2008-09-06T15:11:00.031+02:00

2nd August. The first morning’s amazing bush silence, broken only by the bird life, and a beautiful African sunrise. We felt really privileged and still really excited by the thought of the next phase. This feeling was to remain throughout. I always felt really sad to leave a spot, but eager to see what was on the way, and to get to the next.

It was an early rise – and a long way to go to Maun – approximately 530Km and no idea what the roads were like. Despite being nourished by the prawns and some good, chilled white wine (and beer of course), Derek’s last trip on this leg was draining so we felt that we needed the early start. We needn’t have worried. Tar and long, flat good roads all the way. The altimeter hardly moved in 500 odd kms. We went by a number of very clean settlements along the way, by the edge of the Makgadikgadi pans and the ubiquitous Botswana donkey. On this drive we were struck by two things;
· Botswana doesn’t have many people in it. Seriously. A helluva lot of land and very few people. The settlements were sporadic at best, and we were told that there is even less behind them.

· Going past the pans - the stark whiteness of these areas with a very fine dust that gets in everywhere. You’re also led to wonder what on earth these people are doing living there. You cannot even begin to imagine how they would eke out a living, what they would eat or what they might grow – other than donkeys. As barren as it was, poverty was not apparent. The waves from the people were friendly and in greeting, on not the never ending “sweeeets”. As was to become a practice on the journey between stops, we would pull off on the side of the road for nourishment (and a smoke for me). You could do this you see. You never felt unsafe. Another little “people vs Garmin” glitch before we passed through Maun, behind people that were determined to drive below the speed limit, on our way to the Audi Camp Site. We arrived at – you guessed it – 2:30. We were never tired after these trips. This was as much due to the speed that we drove as it was our interest in seeing different things. When Di and Nes felt their eyelids grow heavy, Derek and I maintained an ongoing repartee of the two way radios.
Ooooh look – it’s got a pub!! A really nice pub. However, let’s get the erection over with first. A much smaller campsite, trailers closer together, and no difference in discussion time. Being in Maun, which is pretty much the hub of the safari and tour map in Botswana, the Audi Campsite was large and very well organised. Great ablutions, pub, pool and restaurant – we didn’t use the pool other than to have drinks around. It was not a “long stay” campsite and we continually had large numbers of foreigners (I guess we were too) using it as a transit camp. They tended towards tiny tents, huge busses, early evenings and very early mornings. Not a lot of luxury for them, but it looks as though the Europeans will believe that anything is a safari and will pay for it.
Oh yes, having just left the tail end of the Joburg winter, things were warming up really nicely the further north we went. We seldom had to dive for the warm clothes.
The necessary was very quickly dispensed with and we retired to the pub and pool to watch the sun set – a favourite activity, if you can call sitting still, watching the sun and drinking beer an activity. Later that evening, a great braai and we astounded the foreigners with the size of our fire. They tended more toward 2 pieces of wood and a burger patty. We, personally, felt that it fairly ordinary and didn’t even use all of our wood, but did manage some tastes of Sambucca, Jagermeister and others. Did I mention that we also took some alcohol?
Next morning, after a great breakfast, we did some replenishment shopping at a perfectly adequate SPAR. Maun had really grown since I was there last, and was more a town than a settlement.
After that, more feverish activity around the pool while we waited for the time to pass before taking a flip over the Okavango delta. At Maun international airport, we passed through customs, the obligatory foot wipe, and into a little 6 seater, flown by a New Zealander. Rumour had it that many New Zealand pilots came to Maun to lose themselves after the Rugby World Cup.
The weather lent itself to this – calm, clear and warm. This 1 hour flip is very difficult to describe. It probably took us into 25 to 20% of the delta. We flew over an amazing spectrum of textures, shapes and colours, and the variety of game that we saw in this short period had us pointing all over the place, shouting “did you see…., look … and there”, and trying to point to everything and see everything. Whiplash was a definite danger as we tried to take it all in. The pilot assisted in trying to show as much as possible, with a dive or two and some seriously steep turns that almost had Di sitting in my lap as she tried to avoid the drop, but see everything at the same time. The sound of the clicking of camera shutters even drowned out the sound of the engine on occasion.
This was all over too soon and we landed on a high (a runway actually, but you know what I mean) – desperately needing a beer to discuss it over. A little pub across the road from the airport was our next destination – clearly the destination of many travellers as an airport staff member came over to remind people that their plane to Johannesburg was boarding.
That night, drinks at the campsite, drinks in the pub, and a great dinner in the restaurant. After dinner, coffee and liqueurs at the campsite. All in all, a very pleasant day indeed. We were now well on our way, and in the groove. It was not a late night, as were very few. The days were filled with new things, people, sights and sounds and some beer. Bed was always welcome.

4 August – a slightly later morning as we didn’t have that far to go. Up at sunrise – I don’t think my travelling companions were that impressed with my version of late mornings. Despite trying to be quiet – everything that you work with is metal - so “quiet as a mouse” is probably not as quiet as it should be.
Derek had to go to “work” in Maun. He had a client to see (hope he claimed the trip) so Nes and I had a leisurely pack. On the way out we radioed each other and got our signals mixed up. We were haring to catch the Britzs and they were slowing down to wait for us. After some time we figured out this wasn’t working and the signal was getting weaker. Do you suppose that we might actually be in front of them, and should actually be doing things the other way around? Duh!!

More long, straight roads, a wee break (does that mean short?) and a cell phone break. This part of the journey was very dry and somewhat enervating. We didn’t come across a lot of signal on this trip, and needed to halt when we did find it if there were any important messages or calls. Thankfully these were few and far between. We know that our offspring were envious of this trip, but there’s also the sneaking suspicion that they enjoyed having us out of the way.
A little short of Shakawe we took the turn to Drotsky’s Cabins and Camp Site. We arrived there at – all together now – 2:30. What a mind blowing experience. From semi-arid, hot a dry – to a lush green oasis, cool and inviting. Our first sight of the 1st of the 5 Rivers – The Okavango. Hey – there’s a pub - a beautiful pub right on the banks of the river. Let’s … no – formalities first. When signing in we were warned that there would probably be some monkeys to welcome us. No worries, we thought, we’re prepared.
We went to the campsite, another big one, on the banks of one of the little tributaries. Beautiful, cool and shaded. Okay – so we know the next step – the discussion on positions and then the erection. Order sounds wrong hey J.
Done!! Something to eat – hey, bloody monkeys have made off with our cheese and rolls. We didn’t even see the little buggers. I chased them and they at least dropped the cheese. Out came our catties, now an important and permanent item in our camping paraphernalia, followed by a session of hide and seek. The little buggers knew exactly what a catty was, and once they realised we were serious, they kept a watching eye from a distance. Every now and then a scout was sent, but the minute the catty was shown, he would duck off. Off to Choppies in Shakawe for some meat, in particular, and then our favourite afternoon activity – a rest. This involved reading, snoozing and generally just chilling.

We had a desire to test the pub – we were sure that no one else had done this and wanted to ensure that it had the correct stamp of approval. It passed and we were privileged to sit there and witness a sunset over the Okavango River.

Beautiful, quiet, serene. And the beers were cold. At this stage it would be fair to comment that it appears as though beer was a critical part of our journey. It was, no apologies.
That night a braai – yippee – accompanied by a huge fire, beers and other drinks. I was starting to feel a little guilty over our contribution to global warming. That didn’t last. Yet another great day. Bed time.

We were woken by a gentle grunting sound and movement in the bush. There were hippos close by. What an amazing experience. It would grunt and we were extremely honoured to witness the incredible phenomenon and coming of age of the Hippo Whisperer. The hippo would grunt, and our Hippo Whisperer would reply, and then the Hippo would reply again. To all of those people that complain of snoring by their partners, we now have irrefutable evidence that man was actually born to live with nature. This is not snoring – it is the human’s forlorn cry in trying to re-establish our lost connection with nature and the wild. This epiphany transformed this into a melody and the comforting sound of our nights. We rested easily because of this and it accompanied us throughout our journey. I truly believe that we are better people for this spiritual discovery. A point, men do seem better at this, but it is not their exclusive domain.

Yet another magnificent morning. Clear, sunny and amazingly clean. This is so cool to wake up to and know that you were spending your day in a smog free environment and outdoors. Sad what is missed in the scurrying rat race.
Today was the day for us to visit the Tsodilo Hills, referred to by the locals as the Mountains of the Gods. They were about 60 Kms away. Packed brunch and we were gone. After the journey there, bolstered by some reading, we now have an Old Man Emu suspension next on the shopping list for the Prado. These are the only mountains / hills in this area, and have much significance for the locals. Rather than me rabbit on about them, here is a site that provides a short description

http://www.cap.nsw.edu.au/bb_site_intro/specialPlaces/special_places_st2/africa/tsodilo_hills.htm . There are many other references – some claim that some visitors feel uneasy in this place, and others are entranced by its spirituality. I must confess that I am much shallower than either of these groups. They were very interesting mountains, with great paintings and an enjoyable walk. Maybe we didn’t give it enough time as we were scheduled to go on a boat cruise / fishing trip at around 15:00. Of course, this could be that I’m just such a bad sight seer.

On the way there we encountered a dof American and his family who had taken what was fairly clearly a 4x4 capable trail to leave the hills, and had gone 300m more than anyone should in a Mercedes – especially one borrowed from a friend. With a somewhat smug (okay, I admitted it) ho, ho, ho, I drove the Prado through the bush to get behind him and hauled the vehicle out of the sand – to profuse gratitude. Nes got their whole life story in this time, but I forget it.

Made it back in the nick of time to prepare ourselves for the boat trip – this included the packing of cooler bags and fishing rods. We were determined to catch a tiger, which were just starting to run. Of course, my fishing history would probably suggest otherwise and that this would just be another body of water where I didn’t catch a fish. I didn’t tell Derek this as it would probably just have disillusioned him. Nes had a quiet, knowing, smile and just packed a book. Suffice it to say, the river entranced and the fish did not distract us from this. In the middle of the dry land, this wide, clean, deep river, with vegetation likened to that of Natal. Full up with birdlife, crocodiles, hippos and the such. The growth on the inside banks was thick and probably hid a myriad of animals, birds and plants. Botswana became more and more attractive by the minute – this river ran right passed the town of Shakawe, and there was absolutely no sign of pollution, litter or filth on its banks.

Amazing what people with pride in themselves can do and achieve.
Okay – so we had fished and lost on the 1st river. 4 to go. We had planned drinks and dinner in the restaurant at Drotsky’s that night. It was plain, but good, fare and a thoroughly enjoyable evening. After dinner, in the pub, we met the eccentric owner. He regaled us with stories of Botswana, the people and the President, making us like it more and more. He then had us in stitches when he told us he was a mechanic who had left Maun when there were more than 15 cars – it had become too crowded for him.

We had thoroughly enjoyed our stay in Drotsky’s and were loath to leave this oasis. However, our time had come and as much as we could have stayed, the lure of more adventure and different places was still strong. We were as excited for the next day as we had been on the first. Tomorrow we leave Botswana and cross into the Caprivi.

Good night hippos. We’ll speak with you.

5 Rivers of the Caprivi - Going on holiday

2008-09-02T07:27:00.012+02:00

Have I mentioned yet that I love my car? If not, I’m sure I will.

What started out as a plan for Vanessa’s &%th birthday, and morphed into a bit of a memory jog for some, turned into a real adventure and a renewing of faith that not all of Africa is poked, and Botswana and the Caprivi at least, work.

Given my previous ramblings there is the danger that this could turn into another serialised version, but that would probably lose me my loyal readers, so I’ll do my level best to try to capture the essence of the trip in as few words as possible. Knowing me though, I’ll probably have to come back and delete this paragraph.

It is often thought, by us at least, that preparation for the trip and anticipation of the trip can be almost as much fun as the trip itself, if not that much for the people that watch you do this in quiet and not so quiet envy. This was true in this case. I think that the Pikes and Britzs became a pain in the weeks leading up to this as the planning started to come together. Packing the trailer, getting the car ready, making sure we had everything, menus organised – the day dawned all too slowly.

2 things to add;
I pimped my ride. An awesome ARB winch bar, and Outback roof-rack and some really awe-inspiring IPF spots (I needed all of these – really), extra spare wheel on the rack, a 2m awning and an Engel 40L freezer and we were hot to go. Ho ho ho (said like Tim “the Toolman” Tailor)

Stupidity has a price, and in getting the trailer ready, I emptied it. It became a little back heavy. While cleaning it, it started to fall backwards. Using lightning fast reflexes, unguided by any brain activity (which Nes says is not unusual, but it normally applies to my mouth), I tried to catch 250Kg of trailer with one hand and managed to completely separate one of my bicep ligaments. Anyway, accompanied by some myprodol and a knee guard, we went on holiday. Good news on our return, the doctor says I can still play tennis, which is quite something ‘cos I couldn’t before this happened. Anyway, no harm done (not much anyway) – the doc says I’m too old to go chasing after it and to leave it – the other one will take over

1st August. We’re off!!
Nes “Honey, the car seems quite sluggish”
Gavin “Ya, it’s really loaded ”
Nes “Is the trailer handbrake off?”
Gavin Embarrassed silence as he stops to rectify the sluggishness.

Anywaaayy. Having resolved to stick at around 110Kmph to save on diesel and fines, we left South Africa via the Stockpoort / Parrs Halt border post. A word to anyone going to Botswana, you must use this border post, even though there is about 40Km of dirt that you wouldn’t otherwise encounter. But we were in 4x4’s so dirt was so not a problem – in fact (ho ho ho) it was welcomed. We were the only 2 cars and Botswana definitely does not suffer the Mozambiquen malaise of requiring a little palm greasing to cross. Both sides were pleasant and efficient and we were on our way in no time.

Garmin is amazing – when you do what it tells you, you don’t miss a beat. I’m starting to think that men don’t even listen to Garmin properly when it comes to directions. A little glitch on the way – nothing major – through Serowe for some shopping and onto the 1st stop at Khama Rhino Sanctuary. We had so much space on our campsite that we took ages to decide where the trailers should be. Irrespective of the size or shape of the campsites, this was to continue to be a feature throughout the trip. You would be surprised at just how much thought and discussion goes into this seemingly simple activity.

Done – let’s have a beer and some food. We were early enough to do this without a rush. The amazing thought dawned – we were on holiday. More than two weeks of idyll left. It doesn’t get much better than this. But it did.

Khama Rhino Sanctuary was a stop, not a destination, so our erection was simple and efficient. Read whatever you want to into that. We drove off to fetch some wood and stopped off at the pub for a drink. Facilities 8/10, service 1/10, so we didn’t waste time and went to do our supper.

At this stage, it is probably worthwhile to discuss food and not touch on it again. Lunches and breakfasts were, by and large, to do whatever seemed to be a good thing at the time, and pretty much a “do your own thing together” approach. Occasionally we got together to do eggs and bacon, and once, bully-beef and onion. Suppers were a different thing altogether. Nes and Di had got together prior to departure and planned a menu for the trip, with enough space in the planning for impromptu decisions. But, much to Derek’s and my disgust, only two braais were catered for. No kidding, seriously.

We, strictly speaking, were not able to take beef into Botswana because of the foot and mouth problem, and, we believed, not much opportunity to buy in the Caprivi. We passed through numerous disease control gates that became quite tiresome. Almost without fail they asked about meat, more specifically beef and pig, products, but seldom really checked. We’re still not sure whether we should have chanced some more meat. Both cars were guilty of some smuggling in ingenious hiding places, but not much. We had to walk through stuff, and have stuff sprayed on our cars. We were to discover, with some horror, that this stuff was a DDT derivative!!! At a Choppies (something like a SPAR gone slightly wrong) in Shakawe we were able to get the most magnificent steaks at the most ridiculously cheap price that we braaied. We had so much that we fed on it in various guises for 3 days, thanks to the amazing National Lunar fridges in the trailers.

Back to the dinners. As an indication, on the 1st night we had prawns (proper tiger prawns) on the braai. Magnifique!! Other meals were Lamb Potjie with dumplings, Thai Chicken Curry and Rice, Beef Potjie with vegetables, Spaghetti Alfedo (really), Beef Pasta and we even baked some bread. We rounded this out with dinners in the restaurants of some of the sites that we stayed in. We really did well.

Stunning planning Nes and Di. I followed orders in this delivery, stirred where I was supposed to and added fire when I was supposed to. Derek played a much more active role and actually created as well. This is a great example to the people who have always believed that camping and offroad is all about braaing. Despite our initial disappointment about the number of braais, Derek and I did manage to deliver a number of great fires to commune around.

Those of you who had hoped that my statement on brevity was actually real, would have realised by now that this attempt has flown out of the window so I might as well get some of the other information over with while I’m about it.

If you start thinking, during the telling of the story that this is something that you need to do, do it. It’s wonderful and so good for the soul. But, get a trailer, a Conqueror trailer. By the end I loved that thing almost as much as my Prado (did I mention that?) (oh, and even Derek’s Landy worked, though this might come as a surprise to Toyota drivers) We slept well, really comfortably, on top of feather eiderdowns and in zipped together -8 sleeping bags, 2 pillows each. Warm, comfortable and snug. And the best, you just fold all that in the tent and it’s still made when you get to the next spot. The fridge is great and we always had cold beers, water, cool drinks and fresh food. We had light aplenty, whether the campsite was electrified or not, and some were not. We had plenty of ice for our drinks all along the way, courtesy of the freezers in the vehicles. We only occasionally had to run the vehicles to charge our deep cycle batteries for these. The trailer batteries are much bigger and only need charging on the trips and we never worried in between, but used power when it was provided available.

The other beauty of the trailer over roof top tents is that you still sleep high up, have space for clothing, a bar (yes really), a kitchen (yes really), ample packing space, carpets in and out (yes really), ample water (110 litres), don’t show your arse to the entire world when exiting the bed, and have an established spot that you can lock and leave to explore with your vehicles without having to pack everything up. And, these trailers go pretty much anywhere that your 4x4 can go. Packing and unpacking were simple things too. 30 minutes after you arrived somewhere (strangely, this always seemed to be at 14:30 – irrespective of the time you got up, or how far we had to go), everything was done and beers were opened. In the morning of any departure – everything, including coffee, breakfasts and showers, was done in 40 minutes and we were ready to go. Oh, and a surprise for all – we took too much clothing. I didn’t have enough khaki coloured clothing – this is a must for a trip like this. The dust and the dirt show on everything else.

That should do it for background. We’re in Khama Rhino Sanctuary, for those who forgot, and now officially on holiday. The first test of the plan, the first fire, the first dinner, the first beers, the first magnificent bush sunset, the first sleep and the first sign of the Hippo Whisperer.