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.
