Trip 2016: Zambia and Malawi - Week 4

Zambia/Malawi McBrock Family trip 2016 Week 4

Saturday 2^nd July – Beatrice – Day 22

Even though the sun was already rising when we got up, the rays were not yet strong enough to dry up the heavy morning dew on our tents. We packed up our soggy belongings and had a cup of hot tea. Unfortunately we had no more eggs left and so some of us opted for cold Wieners, while others preferred nothing at all.

With an easy jump start from our kind camp neighbours we hit the road. And stopped again after only 20km of dirt road to look at the grand estate of Shiwa Ngandu.
Shiwa Ngandu is a majestic English style country estate built by the English aristocrat Sir Stewart Gore-Browne in 1920. Its name is based on the nearby lake Ishiba Ng’andu, which translates from Bemba to “lake of the royal crocodile”. The Estate itself follows the tradition of the 19^th century utopian model villages, with its own hospitals, schools, shops and brick cottages.
We drove through magnificent forests, fields flecked with cattle and drove onwards towards the Shiwa house, where Gore-Browne spent his life. 

It was as if we entered a film set. A ginormous house with towers and terraces looking over a manicured garden with horses grazing nonchalantly on the stretches of lawn. Nearby fruit trees and vegetable gardens were attentively looked after by local workers. The Estate is now run as a hotel and furthermore continues farming livestock. We took all of it in but decided not to spend the crazy 15U$ pp to enter the building. 

Soon our cell phones begin to beep ferociously after spending a couple of days without cell phone reception and so for the next half an hour there was absolute silence in the car.
We stopped in a small village nearby, where I bought a few fresh products, eggs and beer to replenish what we had consumed. In the next slightly larger village it was Alex’ turn to scavenge. After wondering around in circles for quite some time we found the local market, where Alex bought coal and water.

With nothing stopping us now we shot off to the Kundulila Falls just before Kanona.
We arrived slightly after lunch and abandoned our plan of overnighting quite quickly after realising that there was no security, there were no showers and to top it off the toilets were atrocious.

Nevertheless the waterfall was beautiful. We took it in turns to look after the car, while the other two members of the family investigated the area. Alex on the other hand decided to sprint to the bottom of the waterfall and run back up the mountain on the opposite side. As one does of course. 

The waterfall had many trickles coming over the wide rock face, which all came together to take the final plunge. It is always amazing seeing such a mass of water splashing into the river below.

Due to us having no intention of staying we did not have to pay the 15U$ pp entrance fee and so a small visiting fee was negotiated. The moment we hit cell phone reception again Alex frantically started googling places to stay on the great north road. He did an excellent job and found the Forest Inn near Mkushi Town around 300km further on.

The forest in was luxurious compared to the camp at the Kundulila Falls. It had an abundance of trees on a wide lawn, security guards, electricity power point, a big Lapa with chairs, a great ablution block, a braai and a washing up area. To top it all off it is situated close to the road. In short; a perfect camp for a stop-over.

We pitched up our tent and throughout the evening embarrassingly took over the entire Lapa area inch by inch. Luckily there were not very many other campers, two of which we had met at the hot springs and the other a very interesting English man, who was on a one year journey from London to Cape Town and back again.

Daddy had been looking forward to cooking this supper for about 3 days. First he parboiled the chicken and then braaied the pieces over the crackling fire. It was absolutely divine and lived up to our increasingly high expectations. We enjoyed the rest of the ever so cold evening next to the roaring fire and slowly made our way to bed.

Sunday 3^rd July – Alex – Day 23

I woke up naturally (i.e. no alarm clock) in the dark at 5:30am, I then promptly got up, got the charcoal burner going and woke everyone. We packed up camp, had showers and then had breakfast. We are aiming to get to Livingstone today and so it was necessary to have an early start. I was pretty glad that I had awoken at that time, as I discovered that no one had set an alarm today and so who knows what time we might have only hit the road.

At 7:30am we left the Forest Inn, my mother taking the first shift of driving. Not much happened on the drive. 

At the Kapiri Mposhi Junction we needed to top up the tank with fuel. My mother drove past a fuel station accidentally, we thought there would be another one further up, but there seemed to be no more within the next few kilometres and so drove back. This meant passing a police stop for the second time, we refuel and then had to drive through the police stop for a third time, much to the amusement of the policeman. He tells us that the town of Kapiri Mposhi was another 5km away, with an entertained smile on his face.

In Kapiri Mposhi we stop at a Barclay’s to pull some money and then discover that both Monday and Tuesday would be public holidays, in contrary to what my father had thought.

On the road again we are now forced to overtake many lorries driving in convoy with big copper ingots from the Congo. These were quite a mission to overtake as the convoy seemed endless.

We made stop off at a “curry house”, about 70km north of Lusaka, for a mid-morning snack (excellent samosas) and drink (coffee or masala tea). Watching many of the cars and lorries we had overtaken drive by was quite heart breaking. But this was to be my father’s task as he had now taken over the driving. We then soon entered Lusaka, which was a lot more busy than we had expected for a Sunday morning. It took roughly an hour and a half to clear the urban traffic of Lusaka, quite a bit faster than when we had passed through loads. Once clear of Lusaka we have lunch in the car.

Around Bataka, my father had had enough and so Beatrice took over driving, with me navigating. By around 5:30pm we arrived in Livingstone, still comfortably light, having driven about 75km/h on average. 

We stop off at a restaurant called “Flavours of India” to find out if it was open for us to have dinner there later, which it was.

We set up camp at Maramba Lodge again. Setting up the basics of the camp didn’t take long, we’ve been doing it for nearly a month now after all. Then back into the car and off to the Indian restaurant. We discover it is a place where we can bring our own drinks and that there was a buffet. So promptly the ingredients for G&Ts were brought from the car, as well as wine, soda water, you name it. Then plates were filled with delicious curries, bits of chicken, rice and a ton of naan bread.

It was a very pleasant evening at a very decent price of K 90 pp. We watch the beginning of the Iceland vs France football, hoping for Iceland to win, however after France scored their first goal we decided it was time to leave anyway.

Back to camp and then bed. We’ve decided to spend tomorrow in Livingstone, much to my sister and my own delight.

Monday 4th July – Christof - Day 24

Today we are having a relaxed day, having arrived in Livingstone a day ahead of schedule. A very relaxed late morning, reading in bed while waiting for the sun to warm up the 5 degrees C that we had during the night. Leisurely breakfast - we are quite routined in the charcoal cooker department.

After 10 we are taking the kids down to the Vic Falls. Cathy and me have seen the falls soooo many times, especially when we were living in Bulawayo, that we do not feel like spending the US$20 each. The kids will insert their experiences here:

Beatrice:

Alex and I set off to the Information and had to pay 20U$ each as well as provide our identification documents. Mummy presumes they need our identification in case anyone falls over the edge. Lovely.

We walked past the craft market, where people were trying to sell us Nyami Nyamis (the Zambezi water spirit) and were rather disappointed that we knew the story better than they did. We decided to go down to the so called “boiling point” first, a place we have oddly never been with our parents. Downwards we went. Steep, sloped stairs. Down and down we went. Feeling quite proud of the speed I was going down, I felt most disheartened as a jogger came running up the steps proclaiming that it was his 4^th or 5^th time up and down. At the bottom we saw the Zambezi gushing into a whirl pool filled with strong currents and sharp rocks. Maybe I understand now why we were not taken here as children even though it is a magnificent sight. Up again and slightly red in the face- Mr. Jogger now on round 7- we walked through the autumnal forest towards the bridge connecting Zambia and Zimbabwe. We enjoyed the view-points and even saw a bungee jumper dangling under the bridge.

Now the fun stuff comes. Into the thundering smoke of grand Victoria. 

Let me firstly explain how we were dressed. Please note- do not follow my example. I was wearing normal clothes, make-up and flip flops. Alex had his swimming gear on, under a waterproof light jacket, closed shoes, a hat and a waterproof bag. Well. At least I had sun glasses!

Soked to the bone as all other locals we grinned at each other as we passed by, while most tourists opted for the rented raincoats and umbrellas. We slogged over the narrow bridge to the sighting platforms. Unfortunately we could not see all that much, due to heavy spray of the quite full Zambezi. Nevertheless is was amazing seeing the rainbows and glimpsing the broad and sheer cliff face of the Victoria Falls. We went to the Devils pool after that, an area above the falls, where people can swim right at the edge of the falls, when there is little water in the river. We dried off in the sun and walked along the top of the river to the water turbine.

Soon the parents were due to pick us up, so after running into the sprays one last time, we went to wait for them outside.

Christof again:

We agree to pick them up at 13h30 and we are off to search fpr block ice, which proves to be a wild goose chase. In the end we buy 2 times 5kg ice cubes, which will probably last us until Windhoek on Thursday afternoon (in time for the choir rehearsal for Ernst van Biljon's funeral).

After shopping we take the liberty of having a GOOD coffee at the Kubu Craft Cafe next to the Shoprite entrance ... and a few samoosas.

After picking up the kids from the falls we rest for a while at the camping place, also making use of their good wifi (ours is used up and by tomorrow lunchtime we should be back in Namibia).

By about 15h30 we drive to the Royal Livingstone (now part of the Avani Group) to have sundowners on their deck with a beautiful view over the Zambesi river and the 'smoke that thunders' in the background. A very good spot and the drinks appear less expensive than 8 years ago (Mosi 375ml = ZK18= R27), but forget about wine. We are taking a lot of photos, some of which are posted on fb and whatsapp.

Back to the camp at last light, the kids are making use of the camp's wifi, while Cathy and me are cooking: pork braai, oyster mushroom sauce, cheese filled sqashes and a small salad. Applauded by all. A quiet early night: we want to get moving early tomorrow morning to be in Katima by noon and in the Bambwata National Park (west side of the Kwando at Nambwa camp near the famous Horse Shoe) in good time to see the approx 100 elephants at the Horse Shoe.

Tuesday 5th July day 25 – Cathy

Today was a moving on day. Our holiday had developed a kind of rhythm. A day to arrive a day to enjoy, a day to move on. Although the rhythm has changed now as we are on our homeward journey. The Maramba campsite was very quiet this morning; most of last night’s campers had left, and so we didn’t feel guilty about our early morning getting up arguments. The microlights began their racket at about ten to seven, with so many of them zipping around like mosquitos, trying to catch the first rays of the sun over the falls. We wondered whether they had a flight plan or just hoped for the best.  We were awake already but I couldn’t help but wonder how the guests at the expensive lodges felt about being nudged from their slumbers at this early hour.

We showered, breakfasted, packed and then collected Beatrice from the wifi zone where she was busy catching up on her messages. We filled up with diesel, spending what we thought were our last kwachas. Unfortunately once we were out of Zambia I found that I still had 400 Kwachas in my wallet – blast! We could have had another round of cocktails at the Royal Livingstone yesterday! We were on the road by eight fifteen knowing what lay ahead of us – Oh boy! The road to Shisheke is not for sissies!

The road from Livingstone to Kazungula is good, thank heavens! I speculated that perhaps quite a few travellers take the ferry across the river from here to the point where Zimbabwe, Botswana and Namibia meet and then travel through a bit of Botswana before they hit Namibia, all the passport checks may be seen as worthwhile when compared to the road to Shesheke.

As the road gradually deteriorated we wondered what the road maintenance fee might be spent on since it is clearly not spent on road maintenance. But who knows, there were men in hard hats chopping out trees beside the road, perhaps they were creating detours for the upcoming road repairs? Hope springs eternal.

If one uses the texture of fabric to describe road surfaces one could say that the new road surfaces were like silk, corrugated dirt roads are like corduroy and to continue the simile the road from Kasungula to Sisheke is Broderie Anglaise. Frilly round the edges where the surface has crumbled into the sand and with elaborately and decoratively shaped holes of interestingly varying dimensions and depths.

At least we knew what to expect and Chris, without any assistance of tranquilisers (I did suggest a dose of Valerian) managed to cover the distance from Livingstone to Shisheke in three hours. On the way we passed a couple of cars with punctures and a couple of cars that appeared to be abandoned in a hopeless kind of way. Another car was a burn out, I imagined the driver torching it in desperation after it died in the attempt on the road.

On a road like this a kind of camaraderie of hardship develops. Fellow drivers greet each other from their shared adversity as did the adventurers of the past and should the number plate be of a fellow Namibian the greeting becomes even more enthusiastic. At a police check Chris made a remark about the road and the officer smiled in a stoical kind of way and said ‘we must just endure.’ I found myself wondering whether a special descriptive vocabulary had developed among local people. Is there a word for small scattered potholes as opposed to deep lonely potholes? Are certain potholes given names that indicate that they are likely to bring you closer to your maker than others?

Negotiating the potholes reminded Alex of the old Packman computer game. It was a test of nerve with more consequences than a ‘game over’ sign if you got it wrong. As the border post came into view we were all overcome with gratitude. ‘Game over’ and with nothing broken! We cleared the immigration and customs quickly after negotiating our way around all of the parked lorries waiting to cross the border, including for some strange reason an genuine, yellow American school bus – why? On the Namibian side they had not made a separate queue of the local Zambians coming over with only an ID for shopping in Katima Mulilo and the rest of the travellers who had passports. The queue snaked across the arrivals hall but eventually we arrived at the front only to be told that we need first to go to the Ebola check and bring the receipt. Heck! Over to the Ebola check and back to the queue again. Even still we were through immigration quite fast.

Next stop was the Katima Mulilo supermarkets. We should have guessed from the queues at the border and the fact that today was a holiday in Zambia that the shops would be seething with people and the queues were a test of patience that neither Alex nor I passed. Eventually we emerged at the other side of the till with our purchases and joined Chris and Beatrice who had been to fill the car with fuel. We left Katima and headed in the direction of Kongola and the entrance to the Bwambwata national park. Our plan being to camp at Nambwa Camp in the middle of the southern section of the park next to the Kwando river.

While I was doing the paper work and paying the park fee (only N$50 forall of us for 24 hours) the kids and Chris let down the car tyres because the tracks are very sandy and the enlarged surface of a flatter tyre gives a better grip. On the way to Nambwa we passed lots of antelope but none of the elephants that we had promised the kids. Alex and Beatrice started to bemoan the lack of pachyderms when a small herd of elephants appeared from the right and crossed the road behind us. Well at least that was a start.

The guard at Nambwa told us that the camp was full but he could put us to share a camping site with a party of only two people if we were agreeable. The two people were not there so we pitched our tents as far away from their camp as possible and offloaded as much weight as we could from the car in order to make it easier to manage the deep sand. Just as we were about to leave for a drive the couple returned and we knew them! It was the farmer couple from South Africa, JP and Mrs JP who we had last met at Chitemba camp near to Livingstonia. Chris had recommended this place to them. They told us that they had not had much luck spotting elephants which was a bit disappointing to hear but we decided to go out anyway and headed for the place called the Horseshoe. We had been making big promises to the kids so we were hoping that they wouldn’t be disappointed.

The Horseshoe is a big bend in the river that sooner or later will probably become cut off from the flow but at the moment makes a lovely dramatic sweep with white beaches on its outer edge. The road at this point is very sandy and deep which is a nice challenge for the 4x4 driver. It is very easy to see animals when they go down to drink they stand out clearly against the white sand and so it’s a great place for spotting. When we arrived there were some kudus and the odd warthog but no elephants at all. Never mind, we decided to drive up to the highest view point and have a sundowner under some shady trees as the sun sank in the sky.

After a bit of a wait our patience was rewarded by two large male elephants coming down to drink. They stayed for quite a while as we poured our second glasses of wine and kept waiting. Alex climbed a tree, that’s just what he does, and we all watched the water and the sun going down. After a little while more a small herd with some very young elephants came onto the beach but this just signalled the arrival of the large number of elephants that had been kicking up dust among the trees. They came down to drink in groups, some walking towards us, some away and in the end there must have been around a hundred elephants drinking on the beach below us. What a lovely mix; sunset, unwooded chardonnay and elephants! (Okay Alex was dinking some of the Mosi beer that we had brought back from Zambia but the effect was the same.) We waited until all of the elephants had finished dinking and then almost all of them turned back together towards the trees and were gone. They are such quiet creatures most of the time, we heard the odd stomach rumble, some hosing noises and a bit of splashing but that was all. The bushes rustled a little as they moved away and then there was silence.

We returned to the camp to find that we had been joined by four other campers, also South Africans and JP being a very outgoing person soon had started up a conversation with them that brought in everyone else. Our campsite became quite a social centre. There were jokes made about the likely snore-fest that we would have in the night.

Beatrice cooked supper over the charcoal burner, Gem squash and a delicious cream, ham and green bean concoction. As Alex was washing up we could see torch beams flashing onto something by the river. It turned out to be a hippo that had decided to join us in the camp and was happily grazing despite the audience that it had attracted. Gosh they are huge creatures and with massive, chomping, canoe snapping jaws way more powerful than you need to graze a bit of grass at night. When the torch beams caught its eyes it stared quite malevolently, but maybe that’s just experience talking. So any midnight bathroom visits would need to be cautious.

We slept to the sound of hippos grunting and in the night I woke to the snoring symphony that had been predicted. Maybe that’s why the hippos stayed away from our camp!

Wednesday 6^th July – Beatrice – Day 26

We woke up to a tranquil 4 degrees. You might ask how I could possibly call 4 degrees tranquil, but you see, when I looked out of my tent, everyone was wearing shorts and JP went the extra mile not even to put on a jumper!

Everything was going swimmingly until we got a puncture. Thick sand and wild beasts are not the ideal conditions to change a tyre and so we drove a slowly, slowly, hardly daring to breath in case it would somehow cause the tyre to flatten faster. Every beep of the tyre pressure monitor sent a chill down our backs. Stopping on such thick sand was not an option. The road seamed to go on forever but finally we reached the gates and with it hard ground. The puncture was minute, hardly the size of a toothpick wound but as air gushed out the pressure gage read only 0.76 bar.

We wanted to stay at Hakusembe, a great lodge with four camping sites and a lovely floating porch on the river, but there were no camping places left. We continued further down the river and went to Samsitu, a new lodge next door. And we had fallen on our feet! Samsitu has much better campsites for a lot cheaper. Fantastic clean and spacious ablutions, with the best shower I have had all trip, a big braai area, washing up area, a pool, grand lawn, big trees and what a view! Happily, we unpacked our tents and did not have to worry about intruding other campsites, for once again, we were the only guests.
The moment the sun set the cold swooped in and so we retired early to bed for one last night in our tents.

We had breakfast and went for a game drive to Horse Shoe and managed to see nothing. Well nothing rare at least. And even the impalas were sparse. Not down trodden, due to last evenings experience, yet nonetheless disappointed we dashed back to camp and packed everything up to drive onwards.

Now it was action time- a ritual we are very accustomed to. Daddy pumped up the wheels, while Alex and I changed the tyre in a few swift movements. A well-oiled team, where Mummy shouts out encouragement and takes pictures. Sooner rather than later we were off on our way to Rundu.

The drive was pretty uneventful until my father decided to switch on the radio. And not just any radio station- he turned on the German radio station exactly in time for their kiddies’ programme. You have never experienced such torture through a single song if you haven’t heard ‘Hänzchen Klein’ being sung by a small child as a hard rock cover. Daddy enjoyed it. He probably enjoyed our aguish of not being able to block out the sound more than the actual song. But he who drives, choses the music.

We stopped off for gas and minimal shopping, where I purchased my beloved guava juice. A slightly too sweet, bright pink concoction with minimal amount of actual guava in it- but it is delicious to all Namibians. Onwards.

We enjoyed our last afternoon of holiday with a bit of wine or beer looking over the beautiful river and enjoying the stunning sun set.

Alex catered for the last supper and expertly managed to use almost every single utensil and crockery available. Yet it had to be said that his braai and additions were very tasty and even though I had to wash everything up, it was only half as bad due to the hot water from the washing up facilities- a seldom experienced phenomena.

Thursday 7^th July – Alex – Day 27

So last and final day of the trip, also my dad’s birthday.

Pretty darn early we awoke, packed up our camp and then went and had the breakfast buffet at Gondwana lodge next door to celebrate my father’s birthday as best as we could! Really nice breakfast, however they didn’t have enough pastries to satisfy my or Beatrice’s desires.

Ok now that I’ve given an introduction to the day I can write that I am actually writing this entry quite a while after the actual day. The events of that day are therefore quite a bit more summarised as I would like and small details are not currently present in my mind. The gist of that day however I feel are being conveyed and not everything of that day is forgotten. Now back to that day . . .

Next we all jumped in the car and onwards to Windhoek. The drive went really well as we all did some of the driving and so around 5pm or so we were in Windhoek. On the way we messaged Romana telling her that we’d be home later that day and then the message came that our house had been burgled the night before. The full extent of this only found out when we got home. Fortunately Romana, Faith nor the dogs had been harmed in any way. Much was missing (including my entire safe that had been anchored to the wall) Romana was quite shaken. Not the best way to end a holiday.

Now before I summarise the whole holiday I can say that the person who had stolen from us was caught by the police, however as he was an ex-policeman and had friends still on the police force all the forensic evidence that had been collected mysteriously went missing and so he went free. Such is the situation in Namibia sadly.

All in all it was an absolutely amazing holiday and one I with experience I will forever cherish. It was amazing to revisit places, such as Cape Maclear as well as to get to know new places. The VW was tested thoroughly and passed every test we threw at it. This trip took Beatrice and me the furthest north in Sub-equatorial Africa that we’ve ever been and showed us more amazing sights of Africa than was thought possible. I would recommend such a trip to everyone and hope more people take the time to explore Africa!

Until the next one!

-McBrocks

Trip 2016: Zambia and Malawi - Week 3

Zambia/Malawi McBrock Family trip 2016 Week 3

Saturday 25^th June – Alex – Day 15

There are few better ways of waking up than being comfy and warm in bed as one can see thick mist outside, the sound of the fire crackling in the next room, the smell of frying bacon and the smell of coffee wafting through the house and then no morning is complete without my mother coming into our room, ripping the curtains wide open and bellowing for us to get up. . . I may be exaggerating just a bit, but I do need to paint the picture of us having abusive parents, it’s my duty as an offspring.

So up we got, nice and slowly. Dominic had prepared us a delicious bacon and egg breakfast, which we had with coffee and evaporated milk in a tin (the classy way). We then pack our belongings into the car, say a big thank you to Dominic and then into the car we jumped. The drive was short as we just drove to the reception firstly. Here we asked Moses if he could show us a short game drive route, which would eventually lead us onto the road out. Please note: on a few maps we had and on Google-Maps there is a road demarcated as going from Chilinda directly to Livingstonia. This is not the case! Moses told us that this was in fact a foot path and that no vehicle should attempt that route. So the only way out is the way we had come in. We waved bye to Moses and then drove into the misty hills.

Our little game drive started off nicely seeing zebra, eland, warthogs and what we thought were puku. The misty mountains and rolling grassy hills reminded us of the Scottish highlands, my only reference really being from a scene in James Bond: Skyfall. As we drove higher the clouds came to meet us and soon there was no longer a view, nor was it possible to see animals. Occasionally we could make out the vague outline of a zebra here and there (at least we think it was zebra).

We were then back onto the pretty ghastly road that lead us back to Rumphi, with my father driving the whole way. This time the gate keeper was around and so luckily we didn’t have to wait for them to wake up, brush their teeth and have breakfast, as I assume they had to the day before. It took us about four hours to Rumphi, with my father exclaiming it had was far nicer to drive than on the way there. In Rumphi my parents wanted to try and pull some money, not at a Standard bank though (as there wasn’t one) and not one that advertised that it took master cards (as there wasn’t one). So they stick a card in, enter their pin, set the withdrawal amount, press enter, the card comes out but nothing else . . . s**t. This is of course when my mother starts worrying. As it was about 1pm the actual bank part was closed and so they couldn’t sort it out with them. Had the money been deducted from the account nonetheless? Then my mother gets an email in regards to a withdrawal and starts to freak out . . . . “It’s gone through! It’s gone through! [Insert the best swear word you can think of]” and after much panic and emailing she then decided to read the email properly and discovered that it was from our Shoprite visit the previous day! No money from that “ATM-withdrawal” had been deducted much to our delight.

After everyone, my mother mainly, had calmed down we continued back to the proper northern road (nicely tared) and in no time and after an amazing pass, we arrived at Chitimba. Here we had the option of either staying at Hakuna Matata or Chitimba Camp they are next door to one another. We checked out Hakuna Matata and didn’t get any form of a welcome, secondly it looked pretty bad, no campsites marked, ablutions weren’t pleasing and lastly the owner just let us walk right past him, not seeming interested at all in us. My comment on this is that the owners took the meaning of “Hakuna Matata” (No worries) a bit too much to heart. The family, besides my father, went over to check out Chitemba Camp. Here we received a friendly note of welcome and were directed to the reception kindly. The ablutions looked decent, although we later discovered that they don’t have hot water, much to my mother and sister’s dismay! We could camp anywhere and so we pitched our tents on the large lawn. The owner called Adi, another man from Holland, greeted us warmly. Note: never ask a person if they are from Holland, rather ask if they are from the Netherlands, as my mother discovered after being promptly corrected by Adi. One can also stay in nice little Chalets here, we decided to camp as it wasn’t wet or really cold.

We then went and checked out the lake’s beach, which wasn’t as nice as those at Sunga Moyo or Cape Maclear. We then all sat down and enjoyed a nice cold “Kuche Kuche” at the very nice camp bar. There were 3 other camps at Chitemba, 2 big overland campervans and one camp consisting of a couple from South Africa, all of whom my father had chats with at length.

My mother and father cooked a delicious pork stir-fry for dinner, from time to time we were forced to shoo off the cat that seemed very interested in joining us for our dinner. Then my father went off to talk to people at the bar and the rest of us chilled. Then bed.

Sunday 26^th June – Christof – Day 16

Livingstonia 

Originally we had planned to go up to Livingstonia one day, camp up there for one night and drive back the next day. Beatrice had first mooted the idea of doing it in one day, but we had all spurned the idea. When I asked the manager of the Chitembe Camp, Addi how long it

would take to drive up to the top (from 473m at lake level to just about 1400m) he informed me that it would take approximately 1.5 hrs. The nights at lake level being so wonderfully temperate, while we just had cold experiences at higher altitude, so we decided, after a very short family discussion, to leave the ready-made tents at the camp by the lake and to return in the evening. We left just before 08h00. We drove the few kilometres back south and then took the turn-off west up the (what looks like) sheer cliff. Within the first few minutes I realised that this is no longer the road I had driven up in a Corolla with my parents 30 years ago. All the ground between the rocks that has been washed away over time has, since then, not been replaced. The road is now seriously rutted and boulder-strewn. Our Kombi is a long-wheel-base, thus the tight and rough corners are not ideal. Secondly, the Kombi does not have a low ratio facility and the on top of it the first gear is rather high. Therefore driving up rocky slopes slowly was not an option - only at 2000 revs does the engine yield its full 132KW. Therefore I needed to drive (bounce) up these steep slopes having to make split second decisions which rock or rut to take and where - slowing down to think was not a luxury at hand. But I am very impressed with the Kombi: even the roughest slopes and hair-pin-bends were managed.
Only once I had to reverse, because I misjudged a corner, but with Alex's hand signals, even that was managed. I hardly had to ride the clutch at all. After just under an hour we reached the rim of the plateau. For those readers of this blog who have done the Sani Pass in Lesotho (we did it a year ago) I only have one message: the Sani Pass is nothing compared to the 21 hair-pin-bends up to Livingstonia. Do not attempt it with a sedan car! We continued on the slightly better maintained track on the plateau past the two private sector lodges: Mushroom Farm and Lukwe, until we got to the very top where the mission station (with hospital and teachers training university) and museum are. At the 'restaurant' we ordered some coffee (they only had tea), but it was a brilliant spot for internet cover (down by the lake Alex had not succeeded to upload the blog post the previous night). Beatrice used the opportunity too to make some of her online applications for German universities, while we went to the museum in the 'Stone House' of 1905. Livingstone does not appear to have made any specific personal contribution to this mission station - it was more named after him because of his general efforts in 'opening up’ Central Africa to legitimate trade and the missionary effort while trying to stop the illegitimate slave trade there.

Alex’ notes on Manchewe Falls: Another must-see on the plateau is Manchewe Falls. About 1 km west from Lukwe camp (direction of driving to Livingstonia), there is a white stone arch saying, Manchewe Falls and Ancestors’ Caves. Here you can park your car, pay a small entrance fee and then most likely some of the local youngsters will offer to be your guide. For the falls it isn’t necessary to have a guide as you just follow the very clear track down and then make a left turn to reach the top of one of the falls. Don’t go to close to the edge while mothers and sisters are near. The view from here into the valley is truly thrilling and a bit vertigo inducing. Then back onto the path and continue on, here you’ll reach what used to be a little restaurant with a really great view on the second falls (see picture). After this has whet your appetite for adventure you’ll definitely want to see the caves that are behind the falls. Note: The trail is wet and slippery and so be sure on your feet if you want to attempt this. The local guides will lead you to the caves under the 2^nd waterfall and to midway on the first waterfall. All I can say is that it’s a must do!

Later we drove down a bit to the Lukwe Lodge to order some lunch. It is also an eco-lodge and also managed by a Dutch man, Jess. We ordered some organic salad (from own production) plus fish cakes and a few other things. While it took almost 2hrs 45 minutes to prepare these few items (we were the only people there for lunch) we were more than compensated by the most wonderful view from the cafe/restaurant platform: right down to the lake. They also served us organic home grown coffee, which was excellent. By 15h45 we were getting scared of not making it down the pass before it became dark just after 17h00 and after hastily eating our lunch we were back on the 'road' down. The way down has some advantages: we could travel slower and we knew what to expect. There were some beautiful views on the way with the late afternoon light. In the end we made it back to the lodge just before dark. What a day! We had a gentle evening with Beatrice cooking while I chatted in the bar with people we met the previous night and some new ones. An overland truck pulled up right next to us and 3 of their tents were pitched very close to us, but they were quiet and kept to themselves - no sweat. We wanted to leave at 06h00 in the morning, so I made the omelette breakfast to have in the car while driving. Alarm set for 05h30!! We wanted to get all the way to Lake Tanganyika at Mpulunga (Zambia's only port) tomorrow. There isn't really anywhere nice to stay overnight on the way. It was a nicely temperate night at around 20 degrees C.

For once Alex was not out taking photographs of the stars tonight, he set himself a project this holiday to use Beatrice’ SLR camera and try to take the best possible star images. By this stage he was producing some pretty good examples.

Monday 27^th June – Cathy – Day 17

Today was a moving on day and we needed to get started early. We were told that one stretch of road that we needed to drive in Zambia is apparently quite bad and would take time.

Chris had prepared a breakfast to eat in the car so that we didn’t waste time in the morning and so we could wake up at 5.30 and with a quick wash and brush up and a quick car pack we could hit the road. Alex did sterling work packing the car in lightning fast time and by 6 o’clock we were on the road as the sun rose over the lake and tinted the sky a rosy pink that reflected off the clouds and onto the landscape. So we began our farewell to Malawi in a rosy glow.

Kids were on their way to school in a selection of school uniforms of various colours. Girls in gymslips over blouses, I remember wearing one when I was at primary school. Boys were in shorts and shirts with ties. Malawi is quite a formal country, women are usually dressed with a wrapper over their skirts that covers the knees and many of the older men wear suits, even in the deep rural areas. School must start around 7am. I will talk about our drive in stages;

Stage 1 – Chitimba to Karonga this road was for the most part good quality tar road. We drove 89 kilometres to Karonga without incident; evading the odd pothole but there was nothing really to bother us. The road was busy but not with cars, rather with cattle drawn ‘Scotch Carts’, bicycles and pedestrians. Towns and villages were quite congested with people and cyclists on the way to market. By now we have become used to the quite extraordinary loads carried on bicycles but we did pass a cyclist who had loaded his sugarcanes horizontally across his bike rather than along its length. He was probably oblivious to the fact that he was taking up more road width than a container truck. Most people on the road were quite aware of traffic and quickly moved to the side if they had been chatting to friends in the middle. Of course this cannot be said for goats and chickens of which a particularly kamikaze type seems to exist in this part of the world. We made very good time to Karonga the police checks were manned by friendly people who wished us happy returns to Malawi when they realised that we were heading for the border. One policeman had rigged up a cantilever device that enabled him to raise the boom without leaving his seat as he lazily indicated that we should move on. In Karonga we spent the last of our Malawi Kwacha on diesel with the assistance of an understanding pump attendant. Watching the numbers on the dial whizz round in the thousands is quite disconcerting. We had just over 31,000 to spend and anxiously watched the whizzing numbers. Fortunately the pump attendant was not boggled.

Stage 2 – The road from Karonga to Chitipa was impeccable. It was a brand new tar road built by the Chinese and intended to take trucks for the uranium mine that is hereabouts. What a joy! With gay abandon Chris sped through the hills towards the border town of Chitipa so fast that any attempts to photograph the views were doomed to mere blurs of colour. We drove 98 kilometres through an increasingly dry landscape as we left the influence of the lake. There were no police checks; maybe because the road is very new and the police have not geared up yet. The Malwian border post was just past the town in a new building that had been built but not furnished yet. The desk that was being used by the immigration officer sat alone in a large bare room surrounded by other equally bare rooms. Presumably at some point the furniture will arrive. We were dealt with in a very friendly and civil manner by the official. The only old part of the station was the toilet block that I was guided to – whiffy long drops with half rotten doors – room for improvement here. We continued on the Chinese tar road to the Zambian border post seven kilometres further on at the end of the tar road. The immigration officer was in a similar situation, a sparsely furnished office in what seemed to be a private house. He stamped our passports and Chris asked him about the road. He made a merry quip about off-road driving but we thought that he was joking – he wasn’t.

Stage 3 – The 81 kilometres from Chitipa to Nakonde began fairly well although the Chinese tar did end abruptly at the border and translated instantly into a gravelled surface. All of Chris’ researches had said that this was a very poor road but the first five kilometres or so were not too bad and we started to think that the predictions of two hours for the drive were maybe even a bit pessimistic. We thought this for all of about ten minutes until the first severely eroded bits made their appearance. Ah!

The next 40 kilometres took us a nail biting two and a half hours. The eroded bits got more and more dramatic, interspersed with fairly reasonable bits that lulled us before the next test of nerve. Even Chris who is not easily disturbed by a bad road or two, started to wonder whether we would be able to continue. We had started out comparing the road to a farm road, then to a bad farm road and then we decided that no self-respecting farmer would own to a road like this. The only mechanised transport that we saw was bicycles, not even motorbikes were around. Our car stood out large and white in the landscape, visible for quite a distance and attracting a fair amount of attention so when we finally came to a halt in front of a section of road that had been eroded into cliffs and crevasses a crowd of interested onlookers quickly gathered. Chris had to manoeuvre his way back onto a reasonable surface from the point that we had reached where there was really no going forward. A local man on a bicycle came up to us and told us that there was a way around this obstacle by cutting through a few of the villages on the small tracks. We followed him, scattering goats and chickens, being waved to by small children and stared at in astonishment by the adults as we practically drove through their homesteads. As we were guided back to the road we asked our guide about the state of the rest of the road. He explained that there would be one more bad bit but not as bad as the one that we had just by-passed and that we would easily see the way around it. After that it was just ‘standard driving’. We tipped him for his assistance; Chris said that it is probably his main source of income; and drove off wondering what he meant by ‘standard driving’. (With hindsight we speculated that this bad section might even be an income generating project for the village and involve some energetic excavation in the rainy season but maybe that’s too cynical.)

Indeed there was another really bad bit of road a short distance away and indeed there was a way around it. Standard driving turned out to be moderately rather than totally nerve wracking with nastily eroded sections interspersed with easier sections. At times the road seemed to become a simple footpath; at times it was as wide as a motorway as people had veered from side to side trying to find a decent surface. Fortunately Google Maps was able to reassure us that we were on the right track even though at a couple of points early on it indicated that we were back in Malawi and Beatrice started to wonder about immigration officers jumping out at us from behind the bushes.

After a while we spotted a sedan car. It must have driven from Nakonde since no sedan car of any description could have driven from Chitipa; this gave us heart. We overtook the car a few times since the driver kept stopping off to greet people and on one of his stops we asked him how the road was to Nakonde. He told us that after 20 kilometres things would get easier and indeed they did. The road settled down to being a fairly normal dirt road and Chris kept saying – ‘this is how I thought it would be’ but one thing that we could never have foreseen was that the villagers, noticing that on the tar roads speed humps have been put in to slow down traffic, and interpreting possession of a speed hump as a form of prestige, have inserted speed humps themselves at their villages. On several occasions we came across speed humps constructed across the dirt road, some, being created by people who themselves don’t drive cars, were quite severe. So although the erosion was over the speed humps kept us alert. As we approached Nakonde there were motor bikes and cars on the road. One motorbike approached carrying an exceptionally large load that turned out to be a two seater sofa, we were so stunned that none of us thought to take a photograph. A little further on we were passed by a convoy of hooting cars and bakkies with gesticulating occupants, rooting for one of the candidates in the August elections and leaving a thick cloud of dust so that we had to wait  for it to settle.

We greeted the sight of Nakonde with relief and set about finding the customs place. The passports having already been checked at Chitepa. Nakonde is the border post to Tanzania and the town is packed with lorries and people trading to the lorry drivers. The traffic is very slow – lorry drivers busy negotiating the traffic, trying to park, stopping to buy cool drink and so on have a seriously constipating effect on traffic flow. Eventually we found the customs house where the massive traffic from Tanzania and the one vehicle a day from Malawi have to check their documents. We parked and Chris went to find where he should queue. I had a bad feeling about how long this was going to take.

When he had been gone for about 40 minutes I sent Alex to see if he could find him. He came back ten minutes later. No luck. There were queues everywhere, no signs and no evidence of Chris. Alex walked around a bit asking people if they had seen a large white man but nobody had. Father gone!

We waited another 20 minutes and Alex went out with more determination. Chris spotted him from an upstairs window and called him. The problem turned out to be twofold. Firstly we had arrived just as the first person to deal with Chris was about to go for lunch. She seemed quite efficient but broke off halfway through checking the documents. Then the person who was assigned to take over was a learner and had to be supervised for every step that he took by the manager who although he was efficient himself, was supervising a number of people. Chris fortunately has patience and a sense of humour. Two attributes that are very useful in situations like this.

As we left town, winding our way past the traders and lorries we came to a police check where the officer wanted to see all of our car papers – (I’m so glad that we didn’t just drive on past the customs check - which had crossed our minds) - and then another man turned up explaining himself rather badly until it became clear that he wanted us to pay a district council road tax. This is ostensibly to maintain the road. I hope that happens and the road is not just allowed to disintegrate as has happened with the road from Sesheke to Livingstone. We paid up and when Chris returned from paying the tax Alex took over the driving and we found ourselves on a magnificently lorry free, newly made, just opened, Chinese road to Mbala.

Stage 4 Nakonde to Mbala – Alex drove the 194 kilometres to Mbala, Chris really needed a rest by now and could be heard as he dozed saying how impressed he was that the car made it this far without any problems – hooray for VW! The one snag with the Chinese road was that there were rumble strips outside every little settlement, before every bus stop and in some cases for no reason that we could work out at all. And the rumble strips were not just polite noise making surfaces – no they were the hellish offspring of a breeding programme in which one parent was clearly a speed hump of considerable dimensions. Alex had to slow down regularly for the rumble strips, otherwise the speed limit was a sedate 100 kilometres per hour. We were listening to Ed Sheerhan who did not react well to the rumble humps as he was on CD so our music was regularly interrupted.

Since the road is brand new the rural people have not yet quite become habituated to it and they conduct their lives as they ever have. The goats, dogs, chickens, children, cyclists and everyone else regard the road as a social centre. The surface is comfortable to sit on or to lie on depending on your physiognomy. It’s a great place for doing tricks on your bike or for meeting your friends for a chat. People scattered away from the car as we approached but the dimmer and more suicidal goats found us magnetic so Alex had a couple of hairy near misses.

By the time we reached the turn of to Mbala the light was starting to fade and so we didn’t drive into town but headed straight on for Mpulungu

Stage 5 Mbala to Mpulungu – fortunately the road to Mpulungu is also good. It descends steeply towards the lake past small villages surrounded by groves of shady mango trees. In mango season they must have a serious glut. We start to see the lake glowing like molten gold in the distance. Lake Tanganyika is the longest fresh water lake in the world and the second deepest but of course we were only seeing the bottom end of it; its surface covered with little fishing boats leaving port for a night on the water.

We drove into the town as the sun was setting and found Nkupi Lodge quite easily. There was a lot of space to pitch our tents on nice thick grass and there are plenty of mature shady trees. The attendant, Marino was very helpful and assured us that there would be warm water for our morning showers. He fetched several Mosi beers apiece for us and we made a tasty chicken stew. There were a few British VSO workers staying as well for a few days so we greeted them briefly and then gratefully went to bed. It had been an eventful day and both Chris and Alex deserved to sleep deeply after their driving challenge. Unfortunately the zip broke on Alex’ tent and so he had to share with Beatrice. I fell asleep to the sound of them chatting and laughing together.

Tuesday 28^th June – Beatrice – Day 18

I woke up with Alex still asleep in my tent. I slowly, carefully took my book out, without wanting to arouse him from his slumbers. I started to read and enjoyed being able to lie in for a change. Suddenly Alex’ eyes flew open and with a gasp of shock woke up with a start. He had forgotten that he was not in his own tent- what a friendly was to be greeted in the morning.

Soon we got up and all had a lovely shower. At least it was lovely in comparison to the cold water of Chitembe Camp. The pressure was lacking, but the water was hot- turns out we are not as fussy as we thought we were.
We had a tasty late breakfast and sorted out a couple of things we had neglected over the last few days. Mummy did some washing while we rigged up a washing line and bled out the cooler box, which was in desperate need of new ice blocks. Nearby outside our camp there was a fish outlet. With hope of ice we knocked at the gate and were informed that they did not have ice blocks today. This turned out to be quite a dilemma, for Daddy wanted to buy some fish, which immediately needs on be put on ice. And so without ice, there would be no fish.
Off we went to the market. A vibrant, lively and colourful affair with loud music and even louder voices of shoppers haggling for the best prices. On the north side of the road the fishing boats pulled up and freezers or big fridges lined the shore. After Daddy had a chat, we found an independent seller who makes his own 20 litres ice blocks. We rushed home and Daddy and I drove back and picked the seller up. He navigated us to his little but well-kept house and set us up with 40 litres of ice- enough to keep us going for at least a week.

Daddy and I drove back home and collected the rest of the family to continue our shopping spree.
We walked through the seemingly chaotic market. It was hot and humid and all senses were being used at once. Music, laughter, the smell of fish and other products. People brushing past and so very much to look at.
We detected a distinct logic behind the assortment of the stalls. First we walked past the fish sellers, which trickled into the vegetable and fruit section of the marked. On we went and found the take away and cool drink part, only for it then to give in to the many second hand clothing sellers.

Though the market was interesting to look at, we trudged on towards the town centre on a mission to find a mosquito net to cover Alex’ tent.
We walked from shop to shop to shop. All giving us advice on where to look next. At about the 7^th shop, a place off the main street selling odd bits of pieces, we were in luck. Successfully Alex bought the seemingly only mosquito net in Mpumulungu. Meanwhile a couple of ladies took mercy on me and helped wrap the ever slipping Chitenge cloth properly around my waist.

It is not absolutely necessary to cover oneself as a woman, since Mpumulungu is quite acquainted with tourists. Nevertheless I see it as a form of respect to follow the customs of the villagers, who all cover their legs mostly with a traditional Chitenge cloth.

Slowly we wended our way through the market back to camp, buying fresh vegetables as we walked. Now it was finally time to buy the fish and Daddy was informed that the tastiest fish is the so called “English Fish”. A very drunk man came to our unneeded aid and decided to be a sort of negotiator come translator between Daddy and the fish sellers. This was slightly annoying, but we managed to barter for a big “English Fish” for about R80.

After a light salad lunch we lounged around enjoying a day of summer. Later on Daddy and Mummy went for a short drive through town. They started off in the city centre and moved outwards. It seemed that Greek columns were in high fashion on the patios of houses. They drove up to the top of a nearby hill and came across what must have been a decrepit colonial house. The view was apparently quite amazing and they were over-all quite impressed by the relative prosperity in Mpumulungu.

We met up again at the lakefront in a nice and friendly bar. Enjoying a few Mosis as well as the beautiful setting sun as we chatted to a couple of volunteer workers and fellow travellers. There we were informed never to go swimming in the lake for fear of being nibbled at by crocodiles. If we had a desperate wish to go for a swim, we could make use of the tidal pool at the lakefront. A tidal pool is a sort of pit, where the walls reach the top of the water, when the tide is at its highest. It fills up with the water lapping over the walls at high tide, yet not enabling other wildlife to crossover. And yes! It seems that Lake Tanganyika does have a tide of some sort!

We walked back through the bush to our camp, where Daddy started to concoct supper. We chopped everything up, got everything ready, turned on the gas and nothing. Nothing at all happened. We had run out of gas.
Dear Marino, a pharmacy student, who manages the camp in his holidays, sorted us out with enough charcoal (1K per bag) and a good braai stand. Practising for the days to follow Daddy cooked on coals and open flame. It is very questionable if we will find a place to fill up gas bottles on the rest of our trip. Without too much of a fuss Daddy cooked a delectable vegetable stew, with local and fresh veggies, as well as the divine braaid “English Fish”. The big fish lived up to our high expectations and was definitely delicious with easily extractable bones. 

Soon we all went to our own beds, including Alex, who had strung up his mosquito net on the washing line.

Wednesday 29^th June – Alex – Day 19

Today I awoke, after a very good sleep in my augmented tent, to the usual bellow of my parents: “Oi Child #1 and Child #2! It’s time to get up!” No tea, coffee or omelette was on offer today, what is the world coming to? So we had to survive on no more than a handful of nuts each and a bit of grapefruit.

We all quickly jumped into the car and drove to Mbala. Here we sourced a Barclay’s bank from which my parents could pull money, we didn’t have too much trouble doing this as it is along the main road into town. Then came the challenge of looking for a place to fill up our gas bottle, sadly to no avail, so it was decided to buy a little charcoal burner, as charcoal was readily available and it was quite important for us to be able to cook.

The handful of nuts hadn’t stilled our hunger and so we decided to find a place to have breakfast;, easier said than done! The 3 places that did advertise that they were restaurants couldn’t even make tea or coffee. Finally, after much searching and asking we were directed to a small supermarket-type place, which had a little restaurant attached. Here we ordered breakfast, my mother going for sausage and egg, my father ordering a T-bone steak (which turned out to be more like meat flavoured chewing-gum, or rather a piece of neck that needed to be chewed on for hours) and Beatrice & I satisfied our appetites with samosas, pies and local fritters, all washed down with cups of Ricoffee with powdered milk. Quite an adventurous breakfast and start to the day. Little did we know what lay ahead . . . .

Into the car we jumped once again and made our way to Kalambo Falls, Africa’s 2^nd highest single drop water fall, highest being the Tugela Falls in South Africa. The road there was quite an adventure. First out of Mbala, hitting the gravel road very soon, then forced to drive on an embankment at close to 45 degrees, which freaked my mother and sister out. Past the “Yhact” club, which had its heyday a few decades back when people could spell its name and then past a sign advertising that this was a ‘Defecation Free Zone’. After this we hit the first turn, advertised as going to some lodge, we were unsure and so asked the people on a lorry driving past if this was indeed the turn to take and to our amusement every single person on the lorry (about 15) pointed to the turn. A guide book on the internet says that this whole road is tarred, don’t believe a word of it! The road was pretty ghastly; similar to that of the crossing from Malawi into Zambia, to be fair only for a couple of sections. I wonder if the government/people don’t want visitors to go to the falls as no effort was being made to signpost or maintain the road there!? Once again we had to ask if one had to go left or right and so my sister hopped out and asked a local and by doing so managed to attract a trail of children all shouting “ Hello! Sweety!”

About 2km from the falls one reaches a very bad downward section, take the left road! We hadn’t seen it and so slowly made our way down a ghastly rocky road. Once at the bottom we noticed the much nicer road leading down and so I ran up to check it out for when we returned, it seemed the way to go. Soon after we reached Kalambo Falls with a nice little camp set up with ablution block, not tended to and no body to collect our entrance fee, much to our delight of course. We decided to play it safe and so one person had to be near the car at all times. We descended a long flight of stairs and then there the falls were, firstly they looked like a smallish river flowing over an edge, then only after looking over the edge did I realise just how high up we were, 221m to be exact. I risked straddling a rock that jutted out and after looking over the side I admit I scrambled back to safety pretty quickly. The facilities here were great with a proper walkway with rail going along the edge of the sheer cliff and jutting out viewpoints here and there. At the furthest viewpoint we had the best and most impressive view of the falls, quite amazing! Note: getting here does involve many, many steps! Here we met other visitors also in awe of the view, they were some local villagers showing relatives around. I then ran back to the car so that my father could go and enjoy the falls.

After we had seen all that could be seen and were satisfied we all got back into the car and braced ourselves for the way back. In some sections in order for the car not to scrape the ground the 3 non-drivers had to get out and in some sections even find large rocks to rebuild the road, child labour isn’t dead! With no low ratio my father had to put his foot down and race over the bumpy and up the steep bits, as he didn’t want to burn the clutch. This meant the rest of us having to run behind or stand as guide pillars. The road is pretty drastic, but the falls are definitely well worth it!

Once in Mbala again we decided to go check out the Moto MotoMuseum. We paid ZK30pp and it was well worth the money, it exhibited the region’s history from the Stone Age to the present the early material based on the work of a Cambridge researcher, who had done much excavating and research in and on the area. I could go into much more detail here but I recommend you give the museum a visit.

Then back to Mpulungu, buying peanuts, charcoal and what can only be described as “meat” from a butcher with a panga, on the way. This happened promptly and swiftly. We decided to have another lovely sundowner at the bar by the lakeside, meeting most of the camp’s visitors here again. Once back at camp we made dinner on the little charcoal burner, this took quite some time and lungpower to get the pressure cooker going. Dinner was delicious although a bit full of bone splinters! At around 10pm we were all in bed.

Thursday 30^th June – Christof – Day 20 

Mpulungu to Kapishya Hot Springs

We had a moderately early morning – it had ‘cooled’ down to some 17 degrees overnight, almost nippy. Breakfast on the charcoal burner went remarkably smoothly: first the hot water for the two types of tea followed by the omelette to be shared –it just all takes a bit longer than on gas.  We were on the way by something past eight o’clock after buying some charcoal and tomatoes by the road. We drove the 40km up to the highlands that we’ve done before and then we turned off at the T-junction before Mbala due south to Kasama. This is an excellent tar road and, for the first time in Zambia, there was evidence of very recently properly fixed potholes. We speculated whether there is some efficient District Council, or else why can’t all tar roads be patched like here?

The drive was plain cruising at a constant 100 km/h with the odd slowing down for villages (without ‘bad’ rumble strips) for the 165 km to Kasama. Kasama is much bigger than Mbala (contrary to the way it is portrayed on the Michelin map) and has a Shoprite! We replenished our supplies for the next 3 days (until Lusaka), except that we could not find either eggs or Mosi beer, which we hoped to buy on the way (but which we did not succeed in doing).

South of Kasama there must be a different road mending regime: the potholes have not been patched. But there are not so many of them and the skid-marks from the trucks gave us ample warning. We overshot the turn-off to Shiwa Ngandu, because it is not signposted, but after a while I asked Alex to Google the turn-off and we turned around. The road is very narrow and in a pretty bad state, but after what we had done over the past week, this was a piece of cake and after one and a half hours we had driven the 45km to the hot springs. The scenery of the second half of the drive was interesting, reminding us of the Otavi bergland in Namibia.

The place is a true oasis by a clear river with beautiful planting as well indigenous gardens and forests. It seems to be well run but quite pricey, understandable in terms of its remoteness (US$15 pppn and a small Mosi 25ZK). Camping by the river is good, but for the first time on this trip we hit a relatively full campsite: even with two parties from Namibia. But we still managed to find a spot. The hot springs are 3 minutes by foot away by means of a ‘bird walk’ through dense indigenous forest. There were lots of bird sounds, but the birds were difficult to spot. The hot springs are about 20m by 15m in dimension and are mid-thigh deep; the water percolates into a crystal clear pool that continuously spills into a small stream emptying itself into the big river. The bottom is mainly white sand, but also with a more rocky section where there are constant air-bubbles coming up. The water has the perfect temperature, like a hot bath, and has no sulphur odour. After setting up camp we went for a long wallow and also had some interesting chats with other campers.

Beatrice cooked minute meat balls with a separate curry sauce, and, of course, we had our usual big bowl of finely sliced cabbage salad. The hot food took its time to cook over the charcoal burner, but the end result was excellent. After sunset the temperature dropped rapidly: by 20h00 it was already down to 12 degrees C. In view of the cold we went to bed quite early, with the soothing sounds of the small rapids from the river 20m away.

Alex stayed up late with his star photography project and obtained some really successful images.

Friday 1^st July – Cathy – Day 21

We have got used to managing the charcoal stove and organised breakfast quite well. Beatrice had found a beautiful pineapple in the market at Kasama and she cut that up for us so we were very satisfied. As for me, as long as I have a cup of tea or three I am completely happy.

There was no rush to drive anywhere early today and so we had a campers’ lie-in until seven o’clock. The original plan for today was to visit the Gore-Brown House at Shiwa N’gandu but after enquiry at the office we found that there were two snags to that; firstly the 20 kilometres both ways to the house and back are the same bad road quality that we have already driven; secondly that the house is open only from eight thirty to ten thirty (since I asked for this information at about nine that was pretty much the decider). We also found that the US$20 cost of entry to the house includes an obligatory game drive which we did not need. We decided rather to spend the day at Kapishya Hot Springs and then briefly pass by the house and have a look at the outside on Saturday morning.

As I came back from the office I said goodbye to one of the parties leaving the camp for points north. This was the family of a long term acquaintance in Windhoek, another art lecturer who used to work at the teachers’ training college. It had been such a nice surprise to find her with husband and daughter and son-in-law and grandchildren all camping right next to us.

Afterwards we had a long planning and consultation session for the remainder of our trip. Alex noticed that it was the first of July and so we had a short ‘pinch and a punch it’s the first of the month’ session before we settled down with the maps. The main concern was that the 7^th of July is Chris’ birthday and so we wanted to be somewhere nice at least for the start of the day. Eventually and after much discussion we decided what to do and settled down to enjoy our Friday.

The kids went to the hot springs and Chris and I went to the lodge for a coffee which we drank at a table overlooking the rapids in the river; they are very gentle rapids but I think that they do deserve the name. The current appears quite strong and we decided that the ‘no swimming’ signs were more to do with the current that with crocodiles. Any crocodiles have probably long been eaten. The coffee that we were served was just okay but it was nice to sit in the sun in the beautiful garden that the lodge owners have created. Green manicured lawns, densely packed flower-beds and a big variety of shrubs, mostly exotics but what the heck, it’s very attractive.

I went to the hot springs to steep myself a bit, the water certainly opens the pores quite wonderfully. After a while one becomes quite pink and terribly clean. The experience of sitting in the water of the spring with a collection of strangers is a bit like that of sitting in a sauna, people chat together quite happily united by the gentle stewing process that seems to have the effect of breaking down social boundaries. I have found that I can only take quite a short exposure to the heat and so after a while I left the spring and returned to the camp to do a bit of washing.

Chris made a salad for lunch and after lunch we hung around the camp for a bit. The kids went off to the spring and after a while Chris and I joined them, although Alex was in the act of emerging having gained the optimum level of pinkness for the afternoon.

Later in the day Alex went for a run. He said when he returned that the villagers were quite diverted to see a person seemingly running for fun. At one point he got lost and asked a couple of youngsters for directions. There were two possible roads to take. Pointing to one road- “is this the way to the hot springs?” – ‘Yes” – pointing to the other road “is THIS the way to the hot springs? – “Yes”. Ah! Perhaps not. He arrived back a bit scratched, having taken a couple of unforeseen diversions, but in one piece. Beatrice, probably wisely, did not go with him.

Chris and I borrowed a guide map from the lodge to take a walk around the environs. The guide map turned out to be not quite useful and the information that we were given that the trail was marked turned out to be less than quite correct. We guessed at a few of the landmarks and in the end any possible landmarks became so hard to recognise and so unmarked that we decided rather to retrace our steps. But nonetheless it was a nice walk and we had a bit of exercise. We also had some lovely views of the landscape from a couple of high points. We returned the not quite useful map to the lodge and informed the young German man at the desk that the map was somewhat lacking. He didn’t seem too worried and asked if we saw the nice view. Indeed we did. This made him happy. I suggested that at some point it might be a good idea to send out someone with a pot of red paint to mark the trail. He thought this would indeed be a good idea but I had a feeling that it would never happen.

It was dusk by the time we reached our camp to find that Alex was about to go in search of us. I dressed up warmly before starting to relax based on last night’s experience of rapidly sinking temperatures after dark. Alex got a good fire going using wood gleaned from the fireplaces of all of the camps that people had left plus the wood from our own camp. Pretty soon there was lots of lovely warmth coming from the braai. Alex made coals and in due course served some very nice rump steak which we ate with Chris’ cabbage salad and a glass of red wine; not a punishment at all!

While I was writing this diary entry the laptop shut down for lack of juice and after investigation we found that the car battery had done the same – oops! Chris went to chat to some of the people at the camp next door and they promised to help us to jump start the car in the morning. He stayed on for a bit to share travellers’ tales. They had been in Tanzania and had had some expensive breakdowns necessitating flown in spare parts. Don’t even mention the costs!

Alex and Beatrice decided to take a last floodlit swim and then go straight to be with the residual warmth from the spring in their bones. Chris and I sat warming ourselves by the fire until even that was not warding the cold off enough. We went to bed knowing that we had an early start in the morning.