Trip 2016: Zambia and Malawi - Week 2

Zambia/Malawi McBrock Family trip 2016 Week 2

Saturday 18^th June – Christof – Day 8

Lilongwe to Cape Maclear

Alex woke us up around 06h30, which is later than normal, but he was keen to get going to Cape Maclear. Which we had compromised on the previous day. Showers at Mabuya Camp quite reasonable. By 08h15 we are on the road to the nearby shopping mall. The huge well stocked Shoprite has everything you would expect in Windhoek. We stock up for 2 days and I manage to pay with my credit card. After that off to the Standard Bank ATM and this time it works for my debit card too. 

Then it is off due south on the Blantyre Road for some 86km to Dedza. Many bicycles who are transporting enormous loads on the road - the most spectacular are the ones carrying firewood, stacked to above head height - unbelievable! Seen speed traps twice in the urban 50 km zone - one must be careful here. The scenery is getting very interesting with mountains. We are close to the Mozambique border. Just past Dedza we turn off east - in a few km we descend from 1500m down to 500m altitude. First class tar road but very winding - so not much speed. If it had not been such a hazy day we would be able to see the lake in the distance. At one stage we look back and see a beautiful waterfall (see Beatrice's photo). Down at the bottom we hit the T-junction of the Salima to Blantyre road. 
On the map and on Alex' GPS it looks as if we have to go about 10 km north before turning east again on the /M10 to Monkey Bay/Cape Maclear. We have terrible memories of 8 years ago when the potholed tar road had been covered with gravel which had been terribly corrugated too - 65km of horror! So when we turned off with trepidation we got onto an even more deteriorated road - 20km/hr would have been optimistic, but since they had told us at Mabuya Camp that it was a good tar road, we were doubting. An old bakkie came from the front and we asked the driver and he told us that we were on the old M10, the new M10 was just on the southern side of the T-junction (where we had come down from Dedza earlier. So we tracked back and after passing through a village. 

What a joy! The 65km flew by in a trice (well ... a few minor potholes to keep us alert). The first few km on the Cape Maclear road were as wild as a farm path, just as we remembered, but it didn't matter as it would only be some 20 km, but suddenly in the National Park it changed into a narrow but good tar road without warning. In no time we arrived in Cape Maclear. We headed straight for the Fat Monkey Lodge which was well sign-posted. Without the detour, the road trip Liliongwe to Cape Maclear should take a comfortable 4 hrs.

We had fond memories of camping under the big mango tree directly by the shore of the lake 8 years ago and we were hoping that that best camping spot in Southern Africa would still be available (The South African school hols had only started the day before, so the South African motorcade could not really be there yet), But as we entered the camp our hopes sank: both trees had a camping car underneath. At the reception we mentioned our disappointment and to our great joy we were told that the camper under ' our' tree was about to leave, What a joy!! 

I was also here 30 years ago (1986) when my parents had joined me in Malawi for a few weeks on my London to Zimbabwe trip. So my third visit ... and hopefully not my last.

We set up camp in our routine way, then had a few beers to celebrate. Later I walked through town with Beatrice to get some fresh produce for supper. The town is more crowded than before, but it also looks a little more prosperous (within the general poverty). We walked back along the fishing boat beach which has a very industrious atmosphere.

There are 2 types of local beer here: 375ml Carlsberg @ 800 MK or 630 ml Kuche-Kuche @ 1000 MK at Fat Monkey bar prices (approx N$16 and N$20 respectively'.

The sunset is marmalade sky at its best over the lake. When we will go up the Malawian north coast next week we will not have such glorious sunsets, as the sun will set in the west behind mountains. Beatrice is cooking tonight, and as usual, she conjures up a wonderful steak stir-fry with cauliflower after the ubiquitous African cabbage, tomato and onion salad (the trick is to shave the cabbage meticulously (ridiculously) finely, otherwise it tastes stodgy). Alex is still uploading the blog of the first week, which is a skilled and laborious task.  A very temperate evening - the temperature drops from 29 degrees C to some 24 degrees C by the time we go to sleep. Quite a breeze is building up later in the evening. The security guard is paying special attention to our camp site all night - when I need to get up in the middle of the night he is sleeping on one of the camp benches right by our camp.

Sunday 19^th June – Cathy – Day 9

I wondered why the children were up early this morning making breakfast with alacrity – then I realised It’s Fathers’ Day! Ah! A sense of filial duty has survived in the family.

Last night was pleasantly cool and quite windy and a brisk breeze continued in the early morning. Given our intention to take a boat trip to Thumbi Island to go snorkelling this was not the ideal. But as we enjoyed a breakfast of fruit salad made by Beatrice and omelette made by Alex the wind gradually abated and the day started to look promising. Before we left we dropped some washing off with Olivia one of the cleaning ladies who promised to have it ready when we came back in the afternoon at 100 Kwacha a piece. I quickly washed some small stuff myself since 100 Kwacha for a piece of underwear feels a bit steep compared to a shirt.

We collected together our swimming stuff and snorkels and sun lotion and promptly at 9.30 Tobias and the boatman arrived to take us out. Tobias has ‘Tobias’ written on his T-shirt and I wonder to myself whether the T-shirt is named after him or whether he is named for the T-shirt. But never mind for today Tobias it is and as for the boatman – he mumbled something quietly that none of us quite grasped and so he remained ‘the boatman’ for the day.

We cruised along the coast for a while until we reached Tobias’ house where the ingredients for lunch were handed to us. Children were washing themselves in the lake as people washed clothes and dishes alongside. Washing up is easy here – scrub first with sand and then rinse. There is no tide and no waves and so the dishes and clothes stay where you threw them in. The gradient into the water is very shallow and so small children can happily frolic around with far less danger than in the sea. Of course there are no sharks and any hippo or crocodile who ventured close to this sprawling village would be eaten before it could sneeze. The only danger at the lake shore is bilharzia and even that can nowadays be cured fairly easily.

We cruised along a bit further past Steven’s Camp, one of the first camps to be built at Cape Maclear where Chris stayed 31 years ago with his parents. Fat Monkeys’ is one of the first of the later wave of camps but now the lake shore is lined with camps and lodges in amongst the village houses. I do hope that it stays this way and the villagers are not banished to a township miles from the lakeside as happened in Paternoster in South Africa where the fishermen were elbowed out of their beach cottages in favour of wealthy holidaymakers and retirees.

The English couple who are camping next to us at Fat Monkeys passed us by as they walked along the beach, putting in a spot of exercise before spending the rest of the day chilling. They have travelled across Africa in a customised Range Rover including Mauritania which they say is remarkably beautiful. We crossed over from the beach to the island; a distance of just over a kilometre, and land on some familiar rocks we have been here before. This is ‘the aquarium’ as Tobias calls it and indeed it is. We put on our snorkels and slid into the water and found ourselves in a world teeming with tiny brightly coloured fish – Cichlids – beautiful.

I absolutely love swimming with shoals of fish. It feels as if one is flying with flocks of birds. This almost extra-planetary experience is something that I can never get enough of and I stayed, hovering among the fish for, well it seemed like ten minutes but was closer to two hours. Cichlids come in every shade from white to black through the blue, purple end of the spectrum with flashes of yellow as a contrast. I saw the occasional pink fish but red and green were missing although not missed. The prevailing colour is an iridescent blue like an electric charge to the senses. Tobias and the boatman announced that they were going to go and cook lunch on a small beach a few hundred meters away. Chris went with them and Alex Beatrice and I slowly swam along the rocks to the beach.

On the beach were two young women who had arrived in a kayak, they turned out to be from South Africa, one with family in Namibia, German speaking and so after a couple of questions Chris identified her family and worked out which of them he knew – Namibia is a village. We noticed a swimmer far out on the way to our beach and followed her movements, a slow, energy conserving crawl. She turned out to be a British doctor volunteering in a hospital in Blantyre. An interesting and friendly person although a bit surprised to find people on what she had thought was an empty beach. She rested a while and then walked back into the water to swim back to the gloriously named Funky Cichlids Lodge where she was staying.

Just as Tobias announced that lunch was ready a boat started to make its way across the water to the beach. It had about five people on board and once they landed they swam happily in the shallows and chatted amongst themselves. Shortly after that another boat appeared rather more full than the first; in fact it probably couldn’t have coped with one person more and was clearly taking on water. We didn’t count how many people were on the boat but it must have been almost thirty. One more person and they’d have been under water. It was a village outing and the mood was joyful, there was shouting and laughter, swimming and climbing on the rocks, selfies were taken,  greetings were exchanged and the beach was completely taken over and then everyone piled back into the boat and they left as suddenly as they had arrived. We could hear singing across the water as we waved them goodbye. Tobias said they it was some of the villagers showing visitors from Blantyre around. The first boat then left with hardly a ripple and we finished our lunch; a delicious braaied kampango fish with rice and chakalaka sauce. Silvery cheeked hornbills tumbled around in the trees behind us, large, clumsy and noisy but not a type of hornbill that we are used to.

After we had digested a bit we went for the obligatory fish eagle feeding. There are a tremendous number of fish eagles on the island but, since nearly every boat probably feeds them, they are quite fussy about picking up the fish that they are offered. Tobias whistled and threw fish and managed to tempt two of them to make a swoop to pick the fish from the water. Beautiful, graceful and every eagle adjective that I know - but add ‘overfed’!

Inspired by the doctor Alex and Beatrice decided to swim back to Fat Monkeys while we returned the easy way on the boat. I hope that Chris enjoyed his Father’s Day out even though it set us back US$40 per person. The kids made it back faster than I thought they would since it must be almost a 3km swim across from the island and then along the beach. By the time I returned from showering and collecting the washing and Chris returned from having his shorts repaired by a village tailor it was time for a sundowner. Alex is on to cook this evening. As he returned from collecting wood he said – tell everyone that if they come to Central Africa for a holiday they should bring an axe with them!

Tonight with the full moon the moonlight was so strong that you could see colours. The lake lay still and tranquil and far away lights twinkled on the water. We sat by the fire and enjoyed the few stars and planets that were bright enough to see. The Southern Cross hovered above us indicating that south was not quite where I had thought it was. This is the one place on the lake where we will see the sun set into the water, further round to the west it will be more the dawn rising out of it. We sat and chatted by the fire until one by one we went to bed. Alex was the last one to linger by the fire, must be force of habit for a fire fighter!

The noises of music from the village were soft enough to lull us to sleep but at around midnight a couple of very drunk villagers, one in a boat and one on the beach, started one of those loud, rambling, drunken conversations bordering on argument which continued until a quarter past one. In the end I gave up trying to sleep and read my book. Alex was also disturbed but Chris and Beatrice slept through the racket and awoke as fresh as daisies the following morning.

Monday 20^th June – Beatrice – Day 10

Cape Maclear to Ntchisi

At the crack of dawn we were up with a long day of driving ahead. I do not know if it was due to the parents packing up their tent before breakfast or if it was due to Mummy and me not showering, but we were off at our record time of 7:30am. It may seem unnatural to many, waking up so very early- in the normal run o things, it is quite unnatural to us - but the camping life focuses on the hours of daylight and why waste them? Especially when staying at Lake Malawi. The quiet, early hours are breathtakingly beautiful.

We drove to Lilongwe the same way we came. Well, almost. We got lost on our way out of Fat Monkeys, since the signage is aimed to help people there, but not out. And so we drove through the entire village, past other lodges, diving shacks and loads of schoolchildren! Finally we made it out of the village at the far end, narrowly missing the nature reserve and we were off on the tar road.

I took over the driving and did my best not to hit potholes, goats or lunatic villagers. Not a simple task to say the least. While we were driving we noted once more the abundance of cyclists- something Namibia should really strive for! Cyclists with heaps of cargo on the back or many passengers holding on for safety. Everywhere you looked you could at least spot one or two. If the cyclists were so overloaded you can just imagine the sight of the lorries and cars that past us, heaped with deliveries and covered with people.

Daddy took over when we came to the windy mountain roads. Not a huge problem with power steering and enough umpf. Nevertheless the corners where very sharp, which accompanied by oncoming traffic was not a breeze. One out of the mountains we bought a bag full of fantastic onions from a small stall on the side of the road and as a thank you for buying in bulk, were given a few extra as a thank you. Small gestures of kindness really do brighten one’s day.

Finally we arrived in Lilongwe, where a big shopping spree awaited us. While Daddy and Mummy went off in search of an extra blanket that Daddy will surely need in the mountains, Alex and I walked systematically down the aisles of Shoprite. We stocked up on anything we could need for a couple of days, unsure where and when we might find the next supermarket. Everything that was needed had been found and buying a couple more avocados and naartjies on the street we continued on our journey.

Through small towns, with incomprehensible traffic systems and jaywalking galore to Ntchisi of similar ilk. In Ntchisi, a colourful, vibrant and chaotic little village. We stopped off to purchase some tomatoes. Mummy and I went on a seemingly straightforward mission to find and retrieve 10 ripe tomatoes. We walked up the village and we walked back down the village. Meat, chips, and even tomato sauce but we found not a single tomato. Crestfallen we returned to the car. Imperiously and in quite a huff Daddy strode off only to return moments later with the bespoken tomatoes- quite baffled by the miraculous achievement we continued on our last short stretch to Ntchisi Forest Lodge, wondering what we had done wrong.

Here a short warning to all traveller folk, who want to reach the lodge: Have a car with good clearance and enough horse power.
Luckily we did. And still it took us over an hour for a mere 26km. Up and down, left and right, through bush and small settlements. Children chased the car screeching and begging for money. Unfortunately some tourists seem to have given them cash and so the kids hassle everyone who passes by.

Ntchisi forest lodge consists out of a white colonial looking cottage overlooking a grass lawn and a view to let your jaw drop. On good days one can even see the lake in the far distance. The camping facility (for U$10 pp/pn) was great. A lawn, a nice ablution block and even a trampoline, with only a small hiccup, in that there was as good as no cell phone coverage.

 A very friendly Dutch man called Eduard showed us round and gave us a map of all hiking routes (actually happened the next day – Alex), which made Alex jump for glee in anticipation for tomorrow. Eduard told us that the lodge had once been the district commissioner’s house in colonial times which explained the rose filled English style garden. We immediately put on a kettle for a cup of tea after setting up camp- because that is what proper people do when it starts to get colder.

Alex and I mucked about while Daddy made a fantastic soup starter and Mummy made fabulous fried and coated fish. We retreated to bed very early since no one wanted to stay at the table with about 12 degrees outside. Slowly the head torches were switched off and the books set aside and so this day ended, too.

Tuesday 21^st June – Alex – Day 11

I was woken up at 8am by 3 combined events: firstly the bustle of my family as they start to get up and make the all-important tea, secondly the sun rising up above the hedge bathing my tent in glorious morning light and lastly a big drop of water, from the morning dew seeping through my tent, landing on my face. Thus a mixture of tranquillity and

waterboarding, I doubt those words have ever appeared in a sentence together before.

Once I had managed to get up we all had a nice leisurely breakfast together and started getting ready for our adventure into Ntchisi forest. I went to the main house and asked Eduard for the hiking maps and where the trail begins, which I was told/given swiftly and at 9:15am off we went. We departed the camp heading west on a short trail that linked up with the forestry road. Then started on the trail named the red route. This took us up the ridge to a nice view point, then past an old watchtower, well rather the remains of it. Beatrice and I hike just a bit faster than my parents and so from time to time we took a break in order for them to catch up. This gave us loads of time to admire the stunning landscape from ever higher vantage points. The view off to the east comprised of indigenous forest, which merged into farmland in the lower rolling hills and then finally ending up with Lake Malawi in the far distance; to the west similar just without the lake at the end. Then towards the top we left the smaller trees of the forest behind and entered what can only be called jungle. The cool and damp air made a lovely change to the hot drier air we had been experiencing up until now. The higher we went the taller the trees grew and the denser the undergrowth became, these trees were so large in fact they had evolved buttresses and support stands. Up further we went, following the well-made map and well-marked trail. We passed an absolutely gigantic tree with many buttresses and natural reinforcements, I decided to climb it of course and went high enough that when I heard my mum coming I could climb down a bit and not give her a panic attack.

A bit further on Beatrice and I decided to wait for my parents at a large tree which had fallen over the path, it turned out it hadn’t fallen over but had rather been felled. The chainsaw marks were very clear and the bark all that remained for a large portion of the lower trunk. We later were told by Eduard that this was people illegally felling the trees and making planks from the precious tropical hard wood. We were told that the government forester didn’t take care of the forest and that many ancient (100+ years) trees were being felled, made into planks and then sold  illegally, in fact he (the forester) felled trees himself for firewood. I found this very sad and truly hope that the forest is better looked after as it is such a wonderful place.
Further along the path we come across a huge old pitfall, large enough for a large bull, maybe even a small elephant, which we were told used to roam the forest as well as leopards.

Finally we reached the summit! Well rather at first we walked right past it, then as the path started descending we had another look at the map and discovered that the couple of big boulders we had passed earlier were the summit. Beatrice and I returned and met our parents there, I can’t recall a more disappointing summit to be honest. I’m used to having 360° vistas and here all one could see were the trunks of trees. It was at this point that I decide to do a bit more hiking whereas the rest of the family continued on the red route and made their way back to the lodge.

I then back tracked a bit and followed the white route, which connected to the lower blue route. I was doing this at quite some speed until I nearly end up in another pitfall. From there I decided to descend at a slightly slower pace. It was a very steep path and I was pretty glad that my parents weren’t with on this bit, as it may have been a bit too steep for them. Then I hit the blue route and contoured the mountain towards the east. I passed quite a few rock outcrops which I was dying to climb, but in my old Salomons that wasn’t going to happen. Then as the path turned back south (the most northern point on the route) it took a steep descent and then stopped, the only way I knew I was still on the right trail was the occasional liberally painted blue dot on a tree or rock. I descended into a deep valley then up again and then down again, I had to cross 3 streams in total and then began the long, hard and exposed trek up the mountain again, following more of a tiny dried up stream than a path. After much bundu-bashing, exposure to the sun and 1.5L of water I reached the top again, absolutely covered in blackjacks and many more different types of sticking seeds. I decided to take a break at the top and try to remove as many seeds from me as possible. I met the red path again and then made my way back towards the camp. It really was fun walking in the forest/jungle. I reach the camp again by 2:30pm, just in time for the lunch my parents had made.

We then chilled/read until about 3:45pm, at which point I decide to go for another short little stint down to a “waterfall”, it turned out there was no waterfall and all I came face to face with was a group of women wielding machetes. Luckily they weren’t the type to go after me, but rather the types that were illegally chopping up trees. I then finished up the loop hike and end up back at the camp.

Then I had a shower, much to my family’s approval, grabbed a beer and then Beatrice and I went for a sundowner at a place aptly called sundowner rocks. Once back we had a lovely dinner of chicken curry soup which my father had made. It needs to be said that at Ntchisi Forrest Lodge there is little to no Airtel data reception and finding the right place to send a message may mean standing on a chair at the highest point of the lodge holding one’s phone up for a few minutes.
We needed to wrap up and stay warm as the temperature was falling and the relative humidity rising and so by 8:30pm we were all in bed and the lights were switched off.

Ntchisi Forest, in short, is a wonderful place and definitely worth a visit. I would recommend the red or yellow route or the beginning of the blue route, but unless you are a competent hiker, rather stay away from the end of the blue route.

Wednesday 22^th June – Christof – Day 12

Ntchisi to Chintheche

A crisp early morning: 10 degrees C, but the sun rays soon made life cosy. The day before, I had asked Eduard for the best way from Ntchisi Forest Lodge down to the tar road along the lake. He had explained that there were 2 options: 1. To drive the hour (25km) back to Ntchisi village (opposite direction to the lake) and from there join the tar road (about 140 km) back to the lake. But that tar road goes through the Nkhotakotha Game Reserve, where one has to pay full entry fees, even though only in transit. The so called Game Reserve has not a got a single positive comment on the internet. Plan B: take the rough track due east (50km = 2 hrs) and hit the lakeside tar road near Benga (some 50km south of Nkhotakotha). We opt for Plan B. The track is rough, like the track from Ntchisi to the Lodge, but if you see it as an opportunity, like driving on a farm track it becomes quite pleasant. We wind our way up and down, but mainly down, through villages, past primary schools and fields. We clearly see the peak we climbed the previous day for a long time.

The maize has already been harvested, but the stover is all over the fields. Near houses there are huge woven baskets on stilts where the maize is stored on the cob. Motorbike taxis and bicycles abound, often a person can be seen coming uphill by motorbike taxi with his bicycle also tied to the back of the motorbike. All has its costs and advantages. At some places the track is particularly rough: steep uphill over rock ridges. Not recommended for saloon cars. Children by the side of the track shouting 'wazungu, wazungu' (Swahili and other related languages for 'whities') or bolder 'give me money'. Sad!  With Eduard's advice that wherever there is a turn-off,  keep going straight, we arrived well on the tar road, which is in quite a good nick, with only very rare potholes, although the shoulders often have large 'bays' in them and generally have a 15cm edge down to the sand next to them. The road is not very busy, apart from the ubiquitous bicycles and pedestrians, so overtaking is a rare event. Just as well. Soon we were in Nkhotakota where our first priority was to find block ice. After various futile attempts, we had to accept that block ice is not available in Nkhotakota. 

However, small 1 litre blocks (frozen in empty Chibuka cartons) are available everywhere, of which we then bought 10 (@100MK = R2). We also purchased a little nip of Malawi Gin to taste, unfortunately the tonic was sold out everywhere. We made steady progress further north. The tar road gets wider and the shoulders are (mainly) intact. Just after lunchtime we arrived at the Sunga Moyo Camp (7km south of Chinthetche), where we intended to chill for 3 nights. Huge beautiful camping just by the lake. We were the only guests in the whole place (including the expensive US$90 pppn chalets) so we could choose the best spot for camping (the usual US$10 pppn). The restaurant was closed 'because the cook had to take his wife to hospital', the owners are coming back next week sometime' and 'we have only one bottle of tonic left'. Having this huge place all by ourselves was nice, but felt a bit Robinson Crusoesque. There was a steady cool south wind so one was not immediately tempted to jump into the lake, which has nice little waves here on long scenic white sandy beaches interspersed by rocky outcrops. However the temperature of the lake was a pleasant approx 22 degrees C. 

Alex was the only one of us who took the plunge today. We had a late lunch and set up camp at a leisurely pace. Not having had proper internet connection for the 2 days we were at Ntchisi, we had a lot of emails, Facebook and WhatsApp to catch up on. Before long, it started to get dark and preparations for dinner began: Beatrice making a very innovative meal of meat/chick pea 'balls' with a super garlicky tzatziki. Around 19h30 the moon rose over the lake, at first through a small gap underneath a cloud bank on the horizon. It was a 'strawberry moon', almost a 'blood moon'. When the moon finally rose above the cloud band, it cast a wonderful reflected silver path over the lake. Pure magic! The steady south wind, although not colder than 19 degrees C, harboured a little bracing wind-chill factor and we have to dress quite warmly. We had an early night comfortably under a single blanket (outside the influence of the wind). Time to read peacefully.

Thursday 23^th June – Cathy – Day 13

Hmm – perhaps I should have seen this conjunction of numbers and taken warning. Maybe the strawberry moon was an omen? – Maybe I should just stop being ridiculously superstitious. Today was the day of the UK referendum on Europe and we were all quite optimistic about it. Surely common sense would prevail? – More later.

It was not an early start this morning since we were not intending to move on at least for today although Alex wanted to get up early to photograph dawn rising over the lake. I woke up first and shook his tent to rouse him. It was quite a dramatic dawn since a cloud bank was hanging low over the horizon and caught the red glow of the sun before it rose into obscurity. There was quite a brisk breeze off the sea, whipping white crests onto the waves; it’s so hard to think of this water as a lake – surely it’s actually the sea? Especially with the waves lapping the shore. At night they made a sound like a hurricane in the trees. The breeze is quite warm though and while Beatrice Chris and I enjoyed wonderful warm showers Alex decided to wash in the lake as the villagers do. This was not a problem since there is no bilharzia in this part of the lake because the water is so active.

We all returned refreshed from our ablutions and made decisions about our morning. Alex and I stayed in the camp, I had a book to finish and Alex wanted to download images for the blog. I walked on the beach a bit between chapters and Alex joined me after a while.

Chris and Beatrice went shopping. They tried to find tonic to go with our Malawi Gin but the local ‘People’s Supermarket’ didn’t stock it. Then Chris had his waistcoat mended by a local tailor. Beatrice was very amused by their conversation – sometimes at cross purposes and sometimes in agreement and mostly not really understanding each other – but the waistcoat was mended for 600 Kwacha – which is about 12 rand.

Once the supermarket was done their excursion took them to the market where they were followed by the local madwoman, who capered around them and spoke to them incomprehensibly to the great amusement of the rest of the villagers who must have known what to expect. She provided them with an escort, photobombed all of Beatrice’s attempts to take pictures and kept up a refrain of ‘Zimbabwe, Zimbabwe’ in amongst the rest of her singing. Despite this Chris and Beatrice managed to buy vegetables and meat and a piece of kanga material for Bea to wrap over her shorts when we are in public in this very conservative country. The meat came from a butcher’s shop that advertised fillet steak, braising steak and every cut possible with the recommended price, however when they got inside they were given a simpler choice. Do you want meat? Yes. How much? This much (showing by hand) the meat – probably cow – was cut with a panga and weighed on a scale that could only be read by the butcher – so 50 kwacha for a hunk of cow including bones, weight unknown, for Alex to cook this evening.

We were starting to wonder if Chris and Beatrice had gone as far as Mzuzu when they returned after quite an extended shopping trip. I blame the dancing lady myself.

After lunch Beatrice had to settle down to do some work on the computer – wonderful how even in the middle of nowhere one is still connected nowadays. Alex and Chris got together to plan the rest of the trip working on knowledge that we had gathered before and more recently.

Later Chris, Alex and I took a walk along the beach to the nearest fishing village. We realised after a while that we had chosen at time of day when people liked to wash themselves in the lake and after spotting a group of naked men in the distance we decided not to impose on them and turned back towards Sunga Moyo.

The mokoros that the fishermen use are maintained conscientiously with patches made from metal nailed carefully over splits in the wood. They are carved from whole trees and so have a tendency to split along their length when they dry out too much. Some of the metal comes from old oil cans which have been cut open and beaten flat; you can still read the writing. Some of the very narrow mokoros have extra wooden seats nailed on for greater comfort. As we were walking we waded through the warm lake water and decide that despite the wind which had a chill factor we should have a swim.

We returned to the camp and collected Beatrice, still working away on the computer and in the late afternoon we all went for a swim. Alex found that the waves were actually big enough to body surf – goodness, body surfing in a lake! We returned to the camp in time for a sundowner. Chris found that grapefruit squash is an acceptable substitute for tonic when in extremis. Beatrice hit the computer again and Alex started to prepare supper. The cow needed to be cut up in small pieces and pressure cooked for a while before it was edible. In between chopping up onions and meat Alex checked the internet for referendum information. It was going to be a close run thing.

Supper was delicious, the pressure cooker did its work and Alex created a goulash of excellent quality. The added red wine probably helped. After supper Beatrice continued with her work on the computer and Alex experimented with exposure times to photograph the stars before the moon came up. At about eight fifteen the strawberry moon rose blood red and slowly banished all but the brightest stars from the sky. As the sky brightened we stayed at the table, some of us reading, some of us working.

 Alex decided to sleep in the car because he had felt some raindrops out on the beach and didn’t want a soggy night in a leaky tent. Beatrice moved her tent out of the strengthening wind and I slept blissfully on while Chris collected towels, closed the door flap of our tent and performed other rain protection activities. We woke to find that it had indeed rained in the night and the Brexit lot had won the referendum. Words fail. Common sense did not prevail. Although it’s not raining our mood matched the gloomy overcast sky.

Friday 24^th June – Beatrice – Day 14

The wind thrashed against my tent, the tent roof came close to my nose, the edges started lifting and I could not take it anymore. I got out of bed and moved my tent out of the howling wind mixed with rain. Pitch black and awful. Alex had sought refuge in the car and Daddy sprinted around picking up anything we had left outside. Mummy slept.

Once the morning had arrived we were greeted by Britain exiting the EU. Not even the beautiful, now almost windless nature of Lake Malawi could brighten our spirits. We packed and left camp by 7:30am on our way to Chelinda on the Nyika Plateau.

Soon the rain caught up with us and we thanked our lucky stars that we had packed up in time. The rain pattered lightly down as we wended our way through the lush green. We passed little villages with red mud lining the ground of the markets and splattering the walls of the little houses. The road hardly had potholes, which is at least something! Yet the road was narrow and had sharp and steep edges, making overtaking hard and nerve wracking, thankfully I did not have to drive.

We passed a couple of men trying to sell us large very bouncy balls. This came to us as a surprise, not understanding why in seemingly nowhere people had balls to sell. Finally it dawned on us and we realised that the awe inspiring forests along the roadside consisted out of rubber trees. I took a closer look at the trees and saw how they were being tapped for rubber, out of which the balls had been made.

We passed many a policemen and were checked for various cards and vehicular papers. On one such occasion we learnt to rather let the policemen do the talking. As Daddy rather cockily asked “What can we do for you?”, the policeman crumpled up his face and sussed us out as troublemakers trying to bribe him. Even though the policeman wrote down our registration number it thankfully did not come to a confrontation.

Onwards and upwards. Our next stop was the town Mzuzu, where our main aim was to stock up on everything imaginable for the next 10 days of uncertain shopping facilities. Mzuzu catered for all of our needs! A big Shoprite, flanked by an Airtel shop for more data in the heart of Mzuzu. A choice of garages with diesel and petrol next to a healthy supply of ATMs and even a place to buy 5 litre ice blocks. We bought everything we could possibly wish to possess and even a couple of well-made samosas on top of that!

From Rumphi the road worsened. Yet this being the only way up to Nyika Plateau (irrespective of what Google Maps says) we went onwards. The road gradually disintegrated going from bad to terrible. Marking this as an M- road is quite outrageous. This road is not possible with a sedan car of any sort. At least Alex and Daddy got to try out their rugged driving over 120km in 4 hours. It was tough but undoubtedly worth it.

The higher we went and the further away from civilisation the more breath-taking the nature. We arrived at the gates to the Nyika Plateau Nature Reserve and had to wait a while until the gate keeper was called. Apparently there are not all too many visitors (with that road not an absolute shock) and so the gate attendant doesn’t see the point of staying at her post. Nevertheless we paid our 10 U$ per person per night and continued our rugged journey to Chelinda.

The Nyika Plateau is a botanist’s dream with pretty flowers everywhere, such a variety of tall majestic trees and different types of grass, including a delicate purple variety. We stopped off for the first Protea we saw until we realised that the reserve is covered with them. Eland, Roan Antelope, Mountain Zebras and Bush Buck roamed the grassland, even though they were not quite as plentiful as hoped.

The landscape was brilliant, with soft rolling hills and grassland bursting with flora. Weirdly we weren’t able to see the view the entire time, due to the road being in a sort of ditch. This made no sense to us whatsoever, but we cherished the times we could take a peek.

We arrived at midday in Chelinda at a height of 2400m above sea level and it was cold!
We do not normally take chalets, but we could not imagine a comfortable night camping in the open when the temperature reaches freezing and the mist settles in. Camping would have been 60U$ for us all per night and a 2 bedroom chalet cost 160U$ per night. Awfully expensive, but if there are only so very few places to stay, lodges often have the monopoly.

At the reception we were greeted warmly with a cup of tea or coffee and a very friendly receptionist. While the chalet was being sorted out, we warmed up next to the blazing fire and chatted to a few other guest as well as the manager. Eventually we were given the thumbs up and went to our chalet number 4. The chalet was situated in a pine forest with a big lawn, where bush buck grazed happily. The chalet itself resembled a white colonialist cottage with 2 bedrooms, a kitchen with a range stove, a living room with a dining table and a comfortable sitting area and a big bathroom. The huge fireplace in the living room warmed everything up and gave it a homey feeling.

With the chalet comes a chalet attendant. Ours was a lovely elderly man called Dominic. Dominic lit fires in all the fireplaces, warmed up the water, helped us unpack and catered to all our possible needs. This was an odd experience - having never had somebody essentially serving us. But so it is done here and therefore we did our best to enjoy it. While dear Dominic was busy rustling up our supper with the ingredients we had provided, I had a lovely hot bath and relaxed with a book. Soon we were sitting on the sofas drinking Malawi gin and tonic - some a few more than others - and looking at the burning logs.

Dominic asked us to the table and we were served beautifully cooked chicken with cabbage in tomato sauce, perfectly prepared gem-squash and noodles. Everything was delicious and steaming hot. We thanked him profusely, which made him quite happy. After dinner we headed over to the siting area, where Dominic had put out some hot tea and coffee. Dominic is such a lovely person but I could never get used to being treated like a colonialist. He said goodnight and would be back in time for tomorrow’s breakfast.

The internet connection was basically non-existent and Alex had to stand outside in the cold on a table with his arm stretched out to the sky to send a message.

The generator switched off at 9pm, but Dominic had put out some candles for us, so this did not inconvenience us. We stayed up later than usual, enjoying the big fireplace and the comfortable sofas. Alex tinkered around with my camera and the stars, while being eyed by what hr said might have been leopards. Slowly we made our way into our toasty warm rooms, feeling rather pleased that we were not outside in the 5 degree mist.