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.