Chobe ReserveOur foray into the Okavango Delta didn’t actually go anywhere near the delta because we were told that Moremi was mostly under water and that there were hardly any animals to see, so we booked 3 nights in Chobe instead. The first was at the highly recommended Savuti Campsite and the second had to be at Linyanti because Savuti was full. Now we had met a very enthusiastic lady at Drotsky’s who told us not to even consider staying at Linyanti because it consisted of only 3 campsites, a toilet and shower and not another single person for 5km’s – not even campsite staff, so we would be exposed to the whims of the wild animals and were likely to get eaten by something, most probably the lions that were in the area. However, when we made the reservation, the company told us that there are always cancellations at Savuti so we will probably end up staying at Savuti for the second night as well. Our third night was booked at Ihaha which is way north on the border with Zambia. So we set off really early from Maun the next day to cover the mere 200 odd kilometres to Savuti, our slow going as a result of our granddaddy speed due to fuel consumption and sandy road conditions. The land cruiser is actually in her element when travelling in the deep sand tracks and is far more comfortable driving in these conditions than on tar road, so we did the right thing by pulling off the road for Land Rovers and other such less qualified vehicles which we met up with a couple of times along the one track way. Their relief at not having to go off the track or slow down themselves was quite evident! J We got to our campsite overlooking the river just in time for lunch and found
that we were sharing it with an old grumpy elephant and a couple of over zealous and underfed squirrels, neither of which could deter us from our lunch. Just as we were tucking in however, a couple of undetermined European origin came up to us and told us how jealous they were of our site on the river as theirs was right at the back and in the middle of nowhere. The campsites were rather large and spaced out and we could tell that they really wanted us to say that they could share ours, but after the overcrowded and noisy campsite of the night before we played dumb and suggested they ask at reception if there had been any cancellations. They did and ended up getting the campsite next to ours. Just as we were dozing off for our afternoon snooze however, two vehicles pulled up outside our tent with the passengers sporting very confused looks on account of us being in the campsite which they thought had been allocated to them. So we all got out our booking forms to check where the error was and it turns out that the plebs (meaning us) had read our campsite number wrong and instead of getting CV2 or campsite 2 which we were in, we had CRV2 or RESERVE campsite 2 with a “water front” view of the ablutions. Very embarrassed, we humbly apologised to the far superior Pomms and moved ourselves to the b team camp sites – call costing the same whopping amount of money I might add! We did consider going to ask the couple of undetermined European origin if we could share their new found campsite on the river but thought better of it.
Thinking we were going to redeem our severely spoilt experience of Savuti so far, we headed out to the “third hill on the right” which was apparently where a leopard and her cubs were doing a bit of a song and dance for visitors every day, morning noon and night, and you “cannot miss them” according to the same enthusiastic lady at Drotsky’s. My new trick in game parks is to be the driver so that when Shaun spots a bird of unknown name or origin, I can limit the viewing and name searching time to a period that suits me, or as what happens in most instances, feign ignorance of there even being a bird in the sky and to carry on driving. Thankfully there were no ornithological distractions as we headed out to the third hill on the right, both super excited at seeing Shaun’s favourite animal. Well, we did our first loop of the hill with no joy. Not even a bloody zebra or antelope. So we circled again thinking we must have missed it but again no luck. On our third loop about the only exciting thing that happened was me getting smacked in the face by a branch but not even that could lure the leopard from her hiding place. So we thought we may have got the wrong hill, so did loops around all three but still spotted nothing other than foliage. By this time, the sun was setting and it was time to head back to camp with our continuing bad luck in tow. En route we ran into another bloody German couple with car trouble but thankfully theirs could be push started and the snatch strap didn’t have to be located again. Seems we finally got something in return for our continual German roadside assistance as a lot of European bookings had been cancelled due to the rumours of flooding and bad roads so we managed to get a decent campsite outside of the general ablution whiff zone but had some wonderful South African neighbours who belted out their latest “treffers” CD at full volume until the small hours of the morning and called each other the rude version of the animal we had been searching for all afternoon. Well, at least we saw SOME wildlife!
The next morning we left camp at 6am and did one more round of the first, second and third hill on the right before making our way north to the Linyanti campsite despite being warned not to, simply to do something off the beaten track for once and to possibly actually have an adventure. When we eventually got there at about 4pm, we knew we had found our happy place
double checking our campsite number (just in case anyone else was also crazy enough to come to the campsite) we unpacked our chairs and poured some ice cold gin and tonics to enjoy while taking in the breathtaking 180 degree view of the marsh/lake with not one “treffer” being heard over the snorting of the hippos or the trumpeting of the elephants, one deciding to swim straight through to the other side with only his trunk sticking out of the water! Having been warned about the pride of lion in the area (also by leopard lady) we did start our fire and eat at about 17:30 and ensured that we had showered by the time
the sun had set! We bravely sat in the dark listening to the sounds of the bush around us for about 10 minutes before the images of lion all around became too much so we zipped ourselves up in our tent, armed with our machete, mace and spotlight . . . At some point during the night I was woken by the sound of chewing from what sounded like right inside the tent. When I looked out of my window, I was greeted by the looming grey shadow of an elephant having a midnight snack about 3 metres from our tent. I was torn between whether to wake Shaun who would no doubt make the whole car and tent shake and alert the elephant to our presence or to bravely face the beast by myself should it suddenly turn carnivore on us. I chose the first option going for the “safety in numbers” theory and Shaun did exactly as I suspected as well as add a high-pitched and panicked “what’s wrong” which seemed to spook the ellie and sent him on his way.
The ablutions were serviced by a ranger the next morning who informed us that is was only 2hrs to get to Ihaha (our campsite for the night) and that we should just take the road that heads straight over and along the border with Zambia instead of going down south and then back up again. For some reason, we decided that this gentleman must know what he is talking about, didn’t consult our GPS or map for that matter, and set off at 14:30pm with what we thought was plenty of time to spare. As soon as I consulted a map and turned on the GPS however, it dawned on us that this was no mere 2hr drive. The GPS immediately told us 4hrs and the map said there was no road that headed parallel to the Northern border of Botswana. So we set off pushing 40km’s per hour on a very bad track, having to chose between getting the car scratched by a bush, or getting the car scratched by a bush. Our woes turned to real trouble when we realised that we actually had to go out of the reserve and back in to get to Ihaha, and the reserve gates close at 18:30! To cut a long story short, we sped along a road that was meant to be taken at leisure, severely banging our precious car, and were doing what we though reasonable time until we were stopped by a hunting guide and his German client looking for a fur to hang over his Grolsch keg in his bar going the other direction, and who asked if we were lost. It turns out that the road that was “definitely open” was completely flooded, so we had to do an entire loop down south and back up again to avoid the swamp. And so we were careening at breakneck speeds along what was now a very badly “graded road” through villages and passed herds of cattle intent on delaying our progress, all the while watching as our estimated arrival time slipped further and further passed the 18:30 cut off mark. We were so determined to get there in time that when we were faced with a dam of water that had formed over our track, instead of getting out to assess the depth, we imagined that we saw tracks coming out on the other side so continued going. Thankfully Shaun was at the wheel because even as a passenger, I cannot confirm whether my pants were still dry by the time we came out on the other side because despite almost slipping and getting stuck half way through, had the car sunk a further 30cm’s, our snorkel would have had to do some serious work! Even ranger Kark was shaking at the end of it and I am sure had I asked for an inspection of his pants, his would have been in the same state as mine! Ignoring all speed limit signs and the rattling noise that had started somewhere in the underbelly of our car, we screeched to a halt in front of the gate at 19:10. There were no other towns along the way, so there really was nowhere else for us to stay. Again, the friendliness and helpfulness of the Botswana people left us feeling warm and fuzzy as the guard at the gate really wanted to help us, so called his supervisor who said we should continue on to Kasane which was about an hours drive from there and find accommodation there – it was too dangerous to drive through the reserve after dark – the road to Kasane actually went straight through the middle of Chobe but we thought we were looking for trouble had we taken the time to point that out. We explained that we weren’t going that way and also why we were so delayed (careful to blame the flooded road and not his misinformed countryman) so he phoned the manager of Ihaha to get them to send an escort vehicle to get us safely through the reserve and to the campsite. Of course, this being Africa, no one had the energy to escort us anywhere so they said we should just drive through, but do so carefully. We very nearly kissed the two guys at the gate but resorted to just shaking their hands vigorously before heading into the deep dark reserve. Thankfully we were armed with our spotlight and actually ended up having the best drive we have had all trip, although we did nearly wet ourselves a few times as we practically drove through the legs of a feeding 100tonne ellie, massive herds of buffalo, hyena and a porcupine. Thoroughly shattered but exhilarated by the time we got to the campsite, we found that our site was occupied by a feeding ellie who was going nowhere. Eventually we managed to scare it off with some engine revving and light flashing and we crashed into bed without bothering to eat.
The next morning we did another great game drive, but it couldn’t compare to our “night drive”, before heading over the border back into Namibia. We decided that we didn’t need the extra hassle of crossing into Zambia on the ferry at Kasane, something which friends told us had taken them 6hrs, so we headed back through the Caprivi Strip.
Zambia
Having spent that night in Katimo Mulilo, we did the border crossing into Zambia early the next day and what could have been a laborious crossing with all of the charges needing to be paid in different caravans and shacks turned out to be a very pleasant introduction to Zambia by the very friendly immigration and border staff. We were also the first Mzungu’s (white people) there so didn’t have to queue. Zambia is a beautiful country with rolling green hills interspersed with baobabs and villages along the side of the road. Each village has its residential section made up of round mud huts, and then the commercial hub which consists of concrete buildings facing either side of the road, every second shop being a barber or bicycle repair shop. The road is also dotted with stalls selling the most delicious red tomatoes; all piled in little pyramids, bananas, avos and “donuts” which kind of taste like the real thing once you get through the oil.
Our first stop in Zambia was Livingstone, home to the awesome Victoria Falls which were first “discovered” by the Scotsman with the same name (Livingstone, not Victoria) and I was left wondering why the falls weren’t named after the numerous African tribes who had lived on the banks of the river near the falls for many years before this Mzungu laid eyes on them. We found a stunning and quiet campsite just outside of town and closer to the falls, but saw a sign to the Royal Livingstone Hotel on the way. We still agree to disagree as to whose idea it really was, so for the sake of peace I will say that WE decided it would be a good idea to spoil ourselves for sundowners at the Royal Livingstone Hotel which overlooked the falls. Now we have resigned ourselves to the fact that we will never look clean, with having to lean against, over or under our always dusty car to get stuff, so dirty clothes are now just something we have embraced and wash only when you really can’t see the original colour anymore. This meant that we had to dig out our only clothes that hadn’t been worn on the trip in an attempt to look remotely sophisticated enough to grace the lush manicured lawns of this world famous establishment. I 
even donned some eye make-up to avoid the usual enquiry to set eyes on my ID. So we drove rather nervously towards the falls and were quite relieved when we were just issued with a gate pass upon entering, and not given the 3rd degree as to what we could possibly be doing there. We parked our dusty car as far away from the valets at the entrance to the hotel (all dressed in some really awful costumes denoting what Livingstone wore when he found the falls) and walked through reception as though we really did belong there. The hotel itself is breathtaking and sits on the lush banks of the Zambezi as it funnels into the falls. We grabbed some comfy seats on the edge of the bar area overlooking the falls and ordered our cocktails while taking in the bright orange setting sun on the opposite bank of the river which turned the mist from the waterfall an orange-pink.
The next day it was our turn to see the falls properly and with Shaun’s previous experience, we decided to do it from the Zimbabwean side which looks back at the falls as opposed to the Zambian side which looks down into them. Given the flood the area had been experiencing, the falls were in full force and the Zambian side was just a cloud of mist. We parked our car at the Zambian immigration office, left it in the hands of two dubious looking youngsters and walked across the bridge into our 4th country. Along the way we were accosted by some very aggressive Zim touts wanting to sell us curious in exchange for our water bottles. I was intently listening to the proposal of one guy walking next to Shaun, when I heard a guy call out for my water bottle. Not giving the youngster a reply in the timeframe he required resulted in my getting a very aggressive “You can go and F@ck yourself”. The thought did cross my mind to point out to the gentleman that no matter what he said to me, at the end of the day I still had the water bottle which meant that he was the one that was “f@cked” did cross my mind, but it was a long way back to the border gate and I didn’t quite fancy my chances of outrunning him. The falls themselves were spectacular and despite the perpetual mist, we actually got some really good views. I unfortunately decided to wear a white t-shirt so didn’t appreciate the permanent rain when we got closer to the main waterfall area, but Shaun didn’t really seem to mind and kept telling me not to put my anorak on . . . There were no cocktails for us that evening unfortunately, only the memory of the roar of the waterfall as we fell asleep that night. 
The next day we set off for Lusaka en route to South Luangwa National Park. The road was in really bad condition with road works making up the most of it and the latter half being in good condition around the potholes, but we still stuck to our customary 80km’s per hour to ensure that we got our advertised fuel economy. The road was interspersed with random road blocks, but the guys were far too interested in finding out how we were and why we weren’t home for the world cup than to give us trouble and most of them just waved us through. The same can’t be said for the residents though who all seemed to be pulled over for whatever reason. Our campsite for the night was on the other side of Lusaka and our GPS thankfully got us through our first major city smoothly. The same can’t be said for the local drivers who seem to follow their own road rules, a red traffic light apparently only to be stopped at if it suited the driver, and traffic circles could be used as stopovers or drop off points. It felt like we were right back in Seychelles – apart from the traffic light scenario because Seychelles only has one of those. Shaun found a Jack Russell puppy at the campsite so he was taken care of while I peacefully sipped on my well deserved drink.
We were up at 04:30am to make the long journey to South Luangwa in good time. The road to the town of Chipata was still good and we made good time. We pulled into Chipata at around lunch time and decided that it was time to cut the umbilical cord to our car and actually experience some of the continent we had come to explore. The search for a café or restaurant at which to have lunch proved to be quite difficult until Shaun spotted a small sign for a local restaurant heading into a courtyard. Once in the courtyard, there was a mechanic, a furniture shop but no sign for a restaurant other than two tables and some chairs. So I popped my head into one of the shops and asked for the restaurant and was pointed to the door next door. The proprietor seemed a little shy and shocked that she had Mzungus at her door but soon warmed to the idea and gave us a rundown of what everything was and we settled on some Nshima (maize meal) and Fish eaten with our hands and washed down with a local pineapple drink. It really was delicious and it was great to be back into our 2007 groove. From Chipata the road turned ugly quickly. Zambian roads are littered with cyclists because of the expense of petrol and a combination of other economic factors, and the road to South Luangwa was no different. So apart from choosing which massive pothole would least damage our already damaged car, we also had to swerve to avoid cyclists, pedestrians and a few goats. Our moods quickly changed and were only lightened when I had to slow down to avoid a little toddler crossing the road. Seems Zambian toddlers learn how to walk by having to cross the road before being hit by an oncoming car, which achieved this little thrill seeker a round of applause from the group of toddler onlookers, no parent in sight!
We eventually reached Wildlife Camp on the outskirts of South Luangwa National Park at 5pm, after 12hrs on the road! We were shattered and seriously grumpy when despite the friendly welcome by the Dutch manager, we arrived to find the campsite overrun with overland trucks and tents. So we squeezed ourselves into the only available space and went straight to bed again. The next morning however, they all left and we had run of the campsite, choosing a site right on the river overlooking a herd of hippos (I think it’s herd – they really look like cows anyway!) Now the rattling underneath the car which I mentioned turned out to be as a result of the suspension knocking against the exhaust on that road in Chobe (something we had paid lots of money to have sorted in Cape Town) and the exhaust just needed a new clip. The Zambians being as friendly as they are, a guy by the name of Moffat came and introduced himself to us and turns out he is a mechanic at the lodge and offered to take a look at our car for us. The next morning when we took our car to him, they fixed the problem in no time, but unfortunately found a leak in our differential fluid seal (see I know all of these big mechanic words thanks to the Bush Mechanic Workshop DVD I was forced to sit through in Cape Town – and because Moffat said so) so he tried to fix that too, but got as far as the half shaft (another big word, thank you) and couldn’t get it off to fix the seal because he wasn’t used to working with a semi-floating axel (I just keep throwing them out) such as ours. To cut a very boring story short, we paid a hell of a lot of money only to get a contact number for a mechanic in Lilongwe. So by 3pm when all of this was determined, we hastily set off for our first drive in South Luangwa National Park, thankfully without the noise this time. There had been sightings of a pride of 15 lion so we headed straight to the area and spotted all 15 of them lazing around in the shade of a tree. They didn’t look like they were going anywhere so we drove on a little, saw nothing and came back and sat and watched them do nothing, but it was still cool. The big male had obviously just eaten because his stomach was full to capacity and he was passed out snoring with his mouth wide open and looked a little like my dad on a Sunday afternoon snooze! 
On the way out as the sun was setting, I saw movement to my left on an overturned tree and upon closer inspection, found a leopard cub and its mother. I think Shaun could have kissed me if he hadn’t been so focused on gazing at his favourite animal in the whole world. Soon however, there were about 5 other vehicles on the same sighting and the gate was closing for private vehicles so we had to make a beeline for the exit.
We had told the nice Dutch manager that we wanted to go on a game walk but forgot to tell her that we liked to get a bit sweaty doing it, so when we heard that she had arranged our walk, we were really excited, until we saw that we were doing it with an American family out to see where their daughter was working for the Peace Corps. Well the father was the size of a pregnant seal in its final stage of its gestation period and the mother was giving him a good run for his money. Both were sporting various ailments so we were very relieved when they opted not to walk but to go on a drive instead
daughters seemed pretty decent until we got out of the vehicle and were greeted by the hairiest legs I have ever seen in my life. For reasons known only to her, the daughter working in Northern Zambia for the Peace Corps had obviously decided that shaving was now not necessary, and the wearing of clean clothes were also optional as her shirt looked worse than ours – and that’s bad! I think the farmers she was working with had a little celebration when she left them to come and have a family holiday with us! Our guide soon had us distracted from the worst hippie since the Vietnam War with his knowledge of the bush
however, and got us within 5m of a herd of Giraffe (their heads were thankfully far to high for them to be put off by the legs) and close enough to a herd of elephant. Apparently when we got back to camp, some of the other rangers told our guide that we had walked straight passed a mail lion in the long grass which they had spotted on their drives. We must have been saved by the hairy legs because I wouldn’t want to eat those either! Our bliss back at camp also came to a shuddering halt when a Swiss couple decided that instead of taking up one of the many other free campsites along the river, they wanted to share ours, so parked their car right on the other side of our little clump of grass and proceeded to ask Shaun if they could put their tables and chairs next to ours. Thankfully I was up in the tent trying to have a snooze because they would have got a far less tactful answer than the one Shaun gave which was that there is lots of space and they can put their stuff on the other side of their vehicle
they went and put their table on the other side but when we went for a swim in the pool, they moved their stuff onto our campsite, right up against our grassy patch without actually touching it, giving themselves no space whatsoever and the view that they had was pretty crap with all the trees in front, so I really can’t justify their insistence. Unfortunately for the Swiss however, they had just taken on the most stubborn combination: a Jacobs and a Kark, and we proceeded to find the wettest wood with which to light our fire, the designated place for which was right under their tent (which goes to show how close they were) and did a host of other childish things to annoy them. Unfortunately they didn’t move and we spent our remaining three nights under a veil of neighbourly tension, theirs being a rather smoky veil.
we asked them how they were and they couldn’t understand. Lunch of Nshima and fish wasconsumed in a dodgy little restaurant again where we sat chatting to a local businessman who was in town to set up mobile banking for the farmers. Again, we were taken aback by the sheer friendliness and interest the people showed in us and once over the initial shock of having Mzungus in their shops gladly imparted any information on us which they deemed we may need at any time in our lives. Our time in Zambia was unfortunately far too short and we will definitely be returning again soon!
Malawi
On our morning of departure, we made sure that we made us much noise as possible when we left at 5am as our final farewell tribute to the stupid Swiss (perhaps we can be called a childish combo too then) and made our way to the border of Malawi. Here the border officials were just as friendly and the crossing was a dream. We even got decent exchange rates from the touts outside who were far more interested in chatting Football World Cup than making a profit. We did have a minor disagreement as to who we wanted to win if South Africa didn’t, but we came to an agreement that everyone wanted to see an African nation take home the trophy. That settled, we drove on to Lilongwe. Panic soon set in as we got further into Malawi because all the way from the border as we watched our petrol needle dip, we would pull into a petrol station only to be told that they only had diesel. This continued all the way to Lilongwe and we were forced to use our reserve tanks on the roof. There was also no leaded petrol in all of Zambia because the government had simply done away with it, and the reason for there being no Petrol outside of Lilongwe was because Malawi was apparently in the middle of a petrol crises! Something we didn’t know when we decided not to fill up in Zambia because we were told Malawi was cheaper. Once in Lilongwe and having drawn the sufficient wad of money it takes to fill up our 200litre tank we drove along the main roads, only to find that as we pulled into each petrol station, they ran out of petrol! In a serious state of panic now, we headed off the main roads and found a station that still had petrol, only it was nearly a dollar more expensive per litre than in Zambia! We then set off to find the mechanic which had been recommended to us but found all of the places closed due to it being a Saturday afternoon. We eventually gave up and on our way out much later, we quickly munched on a VERY expensive and disgusting Steers burger, one that even the cows would be embarrassed to admit to becoming, and headed on to Senga Bay on Lake Malawi.
We tried some “off the beaten track” sites but they were so off the beaten track, they were not even on the lake, so we pulled into Steps Campsite well after sunset, and truly exhausted and grumpy after a long day on the road. The live band that they had entertaining the crowds did nothing to alleviate the general grumpiness so we went for a walk along the VERY windy beach before having cold showers and climbing into bed, where we were kept awake by the howling wind which seemed to make every appendage of our tent dance a very noisy jig all night! The wind didn’t stop at all the next day so we headed into the village for some lunch again. It was a Sunday so the restaurants were closed, but the market had various guys selling deep fried goat, chips and salad, so we had no option but to try this local delicacy, sitting on the side of the road amongst the dried chewed sugar cane remnants while eating our lunch with our fingers out of the blue plastic bags it came in. It was possibly the highlight of my trip so far, although I can say with a great deal of confidence that goat meat is not going to make it onto any Jamie Oliver menu anytime soon. We also stocked up on some fruit and veg before heading back to our Mzungu campsite.
On the Monday we headed back into Lilongwe to have our leak sorted once and for all at the Toyota, so we left really early to get there by 8. Unfortunately every single Toyota owner in Lilongwe had decided to bring their cars in for their service as well, so the queue was horrendous. Being Mzungus however, and the fact that Shaun informed them that we only needed a part replaced, they quickly looked at our car (if 2hrs later is quickly) and determined that they didn’t have the part. So we pulled into a local 4x4 mechanic who said he could fix it with a local seal which seemed fine to us. Now prepare to be bedazzled to sleep by my mechanic speak: the guys enthusiastically got down to stripping off the wheel , the break pads and a whole heap of other parts that made for a scary combination and left us wondering what was actually left on the car. They were about to remove the half shaft through the wheel which is something I could have told them is wrong because you can only do that on a full floating axel, which we don’t have. 
Shaun jumped in very quickly, found out that the guys were about to take our car woes from a headache to full on botched up brain surgery and promptly got on the phone to our mechanic in Cape Town who talked him through it, he in turn talked the mechanics through it and soon our woes were fixed. The part still had to be sourced however and we only left there at 4pm. Thankfully Lilongwe is a beautiful leafy city that seems more like a sleepy village than a capital so we had no qualms finding a decent campsite for the night. And we no longer had any car trouble, that was until Shaun reversed the car out of a parking area of a campsite we had checked out into a ditch which would have given the trenches at Normandy a run for their money. Thankfully it was only the back left tyre which had gone in and the car was now balancing on three tyres, with Shaun’s weight on the driver’s side keeping the weight off the suspension shaft it was now balancing on. This meant that Shaun couldn’t move and of course the winch was under his seat. I didn’t much fancy my chances of pushing it out myself and upon enquiring as to whether the group of villagers who had now gathered to laugh at us would assist, I was told gladly, but at a price. So Shaun locked the wheels in four wheel drive and low-ranged the car out of the ditch, with no harm done to the car. And THAT is why we bought the car that we did! Yeah baby!
So we spent 2 nights at Nkotakota on Lake Malawi just north of Senga Bay, one being Shaun’s birthday so the pressure was on to be entertaining and nice seeing as our surroundings weren’t exactly the most entertaining or nice. Shaun did christen his first Kuche Kuche (the Malawian
beer) on his birthday which apparently left a lot to be desired. My Hunters Dry also tasted like something you could feed to torture detainees but the sunset was at least decent. The further North we headed up the lake however, the more breathtaking the scenery became, so our 2 nights at Makuzi Lodge in Chinteche were pretty spectacular with the campsite to ourselves and no wind so we could actually swim in the lake for the first time, without threat of swallowing mouthfuls of apparently bilharzia filled water or being blown to Mozambique. The owners of the lodge however thought it would be funny to put a very real looking wooden carving of a crocodile on our campsite, so after skirting it very cautiously on our way for the first swim, the remainder of our time in the water was pretty much spent nose down looking for the carving’s cousins. After farting around for 4 nights cruising up the lake, we hit the jackpot: Nkata Bay! Thank you Sean F! Nkata Bay was our last planned stop along Lake Malawi and was probably one of our two favourite stops along our trip thus far, the second one to follow shortly after. Nkata Bay is nestled among lush rolling green mountains that don’t stop until they submerge into the tranquil clear blue water of Lake Malawi. The town itself is abuzz with activity from the final of the Malawian football cup, to inhabitants of Likomo Island bartering for their goods with local vendors lining the dirty streets before boarding the ferry again. These sounds travel all the way across the bay to the bohemian hippy traveller stop of Mayoka Village. Now unfortunately for us, as a result of the steep landscape, rooftop tents cannot be accommodated, so we had to drag our dusty four man tent out of the car for the first time and attempt to erect it in the piercing afternoon sun. We had at least seen it erected before so kind of had an idea of what it should look like but having turned into snobs of the rooftop variety, it was only after a lot of unpleasant words, mini tantrums and violent shaking that we managed to get the thing up. We then had to erect our rooftop tent in the parking area anyway to remove our mattress and bedding. All of this being done while traversing the extremely steep steps from campsite to the parking area. Just as we were collapsing the rooftop tent, the manager arrived from a shopping trip in Mzuzu. It turns out that he’s also a Capetonian (well maybe was a very long time ago before the lure of the vugu vugus - hippies who haven’t yet realised that the 60’s and 70’s are over- and perpetual smoking of the green stuff got to him), saw our registration number and immediately offered us a chalet at the same price as camping. This was very kind of him but it would have been so much kinder had this offer been made before we had put all of our blood sweat and frustrations into erecting our bloody tent! So the tent stayed where it was for 3 nights and we went for a well deserved and much needed snorkel in the lake.
Introducing the Compost Toilet: now when you stay at out-there-with-the-fairy traveller places, you will invariably have to deal with something odd. In this instance it was the compost toilet. This contraption is exactly the same as a long drop, except that you have to endure seeing and smelling exactly what previous visitors have left when opening the lid, and instead of deserting your contribution to the culmination of waste as quickly as possible as you would with a long drop you now have to hang around to scoop ash and wood carvings in the vicinity of where you think you left your contribution while trying to swat the flies away from your face. So we opted to use the flushing toilet at the top of the mountain instead! Despite all of this, Mayoka Village was the best place we have stayed at so far, not just because of the free tea at 4pm, but because of the likeminded people we could spend loads of time with and not just have to converse amongst ourselves. There are loads of Yanks creeping all over Malawi and you can pretty much find them in any nook, cranny or crevice (apart from in the compost toilet) but they weren’t too bad as most were doing aid work so were aware of other countries other than their own. We did however tend to congregate more towards the Irish and Australians for whatever reason and now seem to be hosting a couple of people in our one bedroom flat in the near future . . .
We were sad when it finally came to leaving after three nights, not just because we had to bid farewell to our new found friends, but also because we had to take down the bloody tent which we had avoided like the plague. We finally finished packing up after about a hundred trips up and down the steep stairs and headed north to the town of Livingstonia which sits at 1200m above sea level next to Nyika National Park, the only national park Shaun has actually allowed us to pass without entering on the whole bloody trip! Now the Mushroom Farm campsite has been pushed onto us since entering Malawi so it was natural that we head there first to see what all the fuss was about. Despite the abundance of the hallucinogenic stuff the campsite is named after, it actually sits on the edge of the plateau with breathtaking views of the surrounding mountains and lake Malawi in the distance so we thought it would be a great final stop. Shaun decided to take us around the back pass which gradually ascends to the plateau and despite the dreadful road, the views were pretty spectacular, except when we got stuck behind a truck carrying so much cargo that it blocked out the sun.
When we pulled into then Mushroom Farm parking area, we were greeted by another lost hippie who had erected his rooftop tent in the tiny parking area which was already filled to capacity by 4 other cars. Acting as our welcome party, he informed us that the parking area was actually the only place for rooftop tents unless we had a freestanding tent in which case we could camp in the actual campsite further down. I hissed at Shaun that there was no chance in hell that I was dragging all that crap out again and we descended to the campsite to see what was actually going on. The campsite itself had a few small sites overlooking the awesome view and a few rundown chalets with an equally rundown and tiny restaurant and kitchen area. The owner was far too interested in emailing his mother (he had apparently been struggling to connect his 3G) than giving us information and seemed pretty happy that rooftop tent inhabitants had to pay to sleep in the parking area with no view. So I put my foot down and we went in search of the campsite we had passed a little earlier on our way to Mushroom Farm.
When we emerged at the top to get back into our car, Hippie’s wife emerged with a couple of bottles of wine which explained their contentedness at staying in a parking lot. Shaun did reverse into a smaller tree and left it hanging lopsided as our parting gift to the hippies and we headed back the way we came. When we got to Lukwe Camp, the view was even better, they had taken the time to make campsites for rooftop tents and we received a warm and friendly welcome from the chef/receptionist/cleaner/travel guide. The view was so breathtaking and the campsites were a little to the back with very little view, so we decided to treat ourselves and stayed in one of the four very neat and cheap wooden chalets perched on the precipice instead, with the thunder of the waterfall a 20 minute walk away as the background music. Unfortunately, this establishment only had compost toilets and after making the mistake of shining my torch inside on a night excursion and interrupting a gathering of cockroaches that would put Ellis Park to shame, I resorted to using the bushes.
It was perfect hiking country and we desperately needed to get some exercise so we walked to the waterfall the next day, guided by the owner’s dog whose name was Kilimanjaro. Now Kilimanjaro took us along a not so well worn path so we were a little unsure of what his intensions really were, but the roar of the waterfall seemed to get closer and soon we emerged at the top of a 50m waterfall, a second one further along adding to the cacophony as we gazed out through the gorge back at lake Malawi. Having kick started our appetite for hiking we decided to continue further up the mountain, much to Kilimanjaro’s dismay, because apparently there were caves to be seen where Malawians hid from the slave traders all those years ago. We blindly followed Kili who seemed at this stage far more interested in sniffing chicken bums and chasing pigs than to lead us in the right direction so we just followed paths willy nilly through villages with the shouts of “Mzungu! Mzungu!” and “Hero!” (Hello) from the village kids following us all the way up. Unfortunately the sun soon started dipping below the mountain so we had to make our way back, much to Kilimanjaro’s joy.
The Waterfalls
The next day when we set off to walk to Livingstonia for lunch, Kilimanjaro completely ignored our calls for him to join us, obviously not the least bit interested in another one of our long hikes. The walk took us along the main road and we were soon followed by a troupe of kids all shouting the following, “Hello sa (sir)! Give a me a money! Give a me a bottol!” (meaning our water bottles). We picked up our pace and managed to lose them only to be joined by another chorus of kids when we passed the next huddle of huts. Three boys aged between 4 and 6 joined us and actually didn’t ask for anything. They took it upon themselves to be our “guards” and whenever another group of kids would shout “Hello sa (sir)! Give a me a money!” the three boys would chorus “No!” “Give a me a bottol!” – “No!”. So we were quite happy to have them tag along. They did persuade Shaun to give them an arm twirl each at some point and continued to hold his hand for most of the way. They also showed us which turnoff to take to Livingstonia and halfway up the steep hill after some heavy panting, they informed us that they were going back now because they were tired. Feeling bad, we told them that we would buy them a coke to share at Livingstonia, so the three continued but only if they could show us a shortcut. When the 5 of us eventually merged huffing and puffing in the town of Livingstonia at the top of the hill, we rewarded them with a bottle of coke to share, which is of course the complete wrong thing to do because it only encourages them to do the same with other Mzungus in future! They were grateful anyway as the 5 of us sat on the step of the shop sharing our well deserved cold drinks! We left them there and explored the town on foot which consisted of a hospital, a university and a few houses all built out of red brick which made for some good photos. Our legs eventually started to protest so after lunch, we made our way back down the mountain to the same choruses from the kids, our three friends nowhere to be found.
Halfway Up When They Nearly Gave Up
The Three Boys After a Cold Coke
