Liuwa Plains - Going home was also fun

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

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!!

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

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

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

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.