The Smoke that Thunders

The photograph above shows the Victoria Falls bridge between Zimbabwe and Zambia, which spans the Zambezi river deep in the gorge below (the photo is a 180° panoramic); I jumped off this bridge, but more of that later. The Zambezi itself starts life in northern Zambia, cascades over the 108m high falls, and continues on its way to the Indian ocean; at this time of year, the end of the wet season, some 10,000 tons of water plummets over the edge every second.
















Entry into Zimbabwe was relatively straight forward - $55 for a visa, $20 more expensive that for every other nationality except for Canadians (they pay $75 – perhaps they've been even more critical of Mugabe than the British government). We had two nights stay in Vic Falls town, so decided to ditch the tent in favour of a room.
















The next order of business was to settle down to watch the 2nd test. Having spent the early morning watching buffalo successfully defend themselves against repeated lion attacks, it was a big disappointment to see springbok do the same thing.
















Early the next morning Kirsten went off for a horse ride along the Zambezi above the falls, which allows you to get close to the game (wild animals tend to react to a horse and rider the same as to just a horse). This did not prevent Yola's horse getting skittish and throwing her off – a bruised hand and side, and a broken camera.
















Jacques, Luke and myself thought the Vic Falls bungee sounded like a great idea, so off we went with our group of supporters . Luke went first, and as it was his first jump, went for the classic swan dive with the rope attached to the ankles. Next up was me, who went for a reverse elevator; this is a trick set-up, with the cord attached to the middle of your torso. With the rope dangling between your leg, you do a backwards star jump, and watch the bridge rush away from you. This was all very well until the guy explained not to lean forwards because the rope will smack you in the face, nor lean back because the rope will go between your leg – neither of which is pleasant. I really wasn't worried up until that point. Anyway dangling 50m below the bridge, waiting for the winch-man to rescue you, you do get a great view of the falls. Jacques did the run and jump method, with a very nice take off.
















Among the many things Zimbabwe in notorious for is hyper-inflation; every few years the central bank lops off around a dozen zeros from the Zim-dollar, bringing it back (for a day or so) on approximate par with the US$ - the largest note printed from the 3rd generation series was 100 trillion ($100,000,000,000,000), before the government removed all those pesky zeros and issued the (current) fourth generation notes.

None of the 3rd generation notes is worth more than the paper they are printed on, but that doesn't stop the locals trying to get $10 for the larger notes (I paid $1 for a 10 trillion note). The local ATMs do issue 4th generation notes, but you'd be stupid to touch it – nobody else does.

The falls are wet. At this time of year so much water thunders over that the spry can completely obscure the view – a small change in the wind can make the difference between having a fantastic vista, and having an unexpected power shower. Of course, when we visited the Zimbabwean side, we took nothing as sensible as a rain coast – so as we emerged, soaked to the skin, a group of South African tourist (in ponchos) found it so funny, they had their photos taken with us.
















Below the falls, the Zambezi snakes through a deep gorge. During low water, you can raft rapid 1 (a little after the bridge) through to 23, and although the rapids have a lower grade when the water is high, because you can't walk around an impassable grade 6, in high water you must start at rapid 11. Before you start, you must walk down the steep track to the river – easy enough, except we were in flip-flops.

The huge volume of water in the tight gorge creates large whirlpools and standing waves; going though the rapids can feel more like surfing than rafting. The whirlpools can take you down and hold you for 15 seconds – not long enough to run low on air, but certainly long enough to be quite unnerving. Another danger, is the crocodiles; they wouldn't swim up into the fast moving waters of the gorge, but juveniles washed over the falls can survive – we spotted three on our way down river. Fortunately no one went overboard, but we did get hit by some monstrous waves. Of course, if you raft in a gorge, you have to do the tedious 20 minute slog back out again; fortunately someone else had the task of carrying the raft out.

Chobe

Doris is driven by Jacques, a veteran of African overlanding at 28; while his girlfriend, Celia, is the “tour leader”. Our six fellow travellers are Ed, a 64 year old Australian (although he's still claiming to be 46); kiwi mother and son team, Ann and Luke; American friends, Emerald and Megan; and finally another Aussie, Yola. Yola and Emerald are currently studying in Johannesburg and Cape Town respectively.

To cover distant we often set off very early (5am), which means taking down the tent in the pitch black, and rolling up the damp canvas with numb hands. We are split into four teams, three of which rotated cooking, cleaning and washing-up, while the forth (myself and Luke) lifted the heavy stuff in and out of the truck. It's a little bit like being in the army, with the twist that you are paying them.














From Maun we rattled north-east towards the Chobe river and national park. After an overnight transit stop on route, we stopped for breakfast on the side of the road, where one couldn't help noticing that diesel was spraying out from the engine compartment; as it turned out one of the filters has cracked, and as the system is under high pressure, the result was a ornamental fountain of diesel. Fortunately, Jacques had a spare filter, and repairs were made quickly.














We arrived in plenty of time for our sunset cruise on the Chobe river, which forms the northern border with improbably shaped Namibia. The river had plenty of crocodiles and hippos, neither of which was inclined to put on much of a show beyond wallowing on the mud banks. The elephants were more active, with a juvenile in musk proudly showing off his fifth leg, before squaring off for a bit of play fighting.

Very early the next morning we had a game drive. Now despite knowing how cold these things are, I still didn't wear enough clothes – my thermals weren't cutting it, and everyone else brought along their sleeping bags. After half-an-hour of only seeing antelopes, I was regretting leaving the tent (I'm so over antelopes). Then our guide got a call on the radio, and we rushed off.


















What we found was a dozen other safari vehicles, jockeying for position around a pride of lions. The lions, two females with cubs and two males, were tracking a large herd of buffalos. Among the herd was a limping calf, who seemed to have breakfast stamped on his head. One of the females began a run, however, soon she was in retreat with several large bulls chasing her. These charges and counter-charges went on for over an hour, with the herd of safari vehicles fighting for the best position (the herd of buffalos seemed less interested in moving).














With an apparent stalemate reached the lionesses settled down in the grass with their cubs, who were content to play in a ever so cute way. Meanwhile a male (who took no part in the hunt) wandered into a group of impala, who seemed completely at easy with his presence – they can easy out run lions (but not leopards), so have no fear standing close to them.














Despise the bitter cold, it was our best lion viewing yet – just a shame Limpy the buffalo didn't end up as breakfast.

Okavango Delta

Day one of our overland trip to Nairobi we woke up at some ungodly hour before first light, something which I fear is going to be a bit of theme for the next month. After some quick, sleepy introductions to our travelling companions we loaded our gear into Dorris (the truck, who apparently gets very upset if you call her a bus) and headed off out of Jo'burg. We soon learnt that early morning travel in Dorris is not much fun, as instead of windows, she has plastic sheets which do little to keep out the cold. Fortunately, I had my sleeping bag to hand so huddled up and snoozed until we stopped for shopping in Polokowane, where we had nearly got lost a couple of days earlier on our drive down from Krugger.

Now, apparently this trip is not a holiday, so we all take turns in cooking, washing and cleaning up. As I was on cooking duty (along with Ed, an Australian guy who was doing very well at pretending he was under the tour company's age limit of 45), it was my job to run around the supermarket buying supplies for the next day or so. After this we had a roadside sandwich lunch before continuing on to the border with Botswana.
















After a relatively quick and simple border crossing at Martin's Drift (there were some short negotiations over the paper work for the truck, which is often the most time consuming part of the crossings), we arrived in Botswana and our first campsite. Unfortunately, as the journey had been quite long, we had the fun of putting up the tents and setting up camp in the dark.
















We woke early again the next morning, and packed up camp with bleary eyes and freezing hands. Although, to be clear, when I say sleep, what I actually meant lying shivering in the tent, as it was way too cold to actually get to sleep. (Rich slept well in his “Ice Breaker” sleeping bag). Wrapped up in sleeping bags and all the clothes we had, we embarked on another full day of driving. After a pit stop to buy supplies in Maun, we set up camp and Delta Rain campsite, which is a crossing point for overland trucks doing different routes – there were around four there when we arrived. This time I went to bed equipped with thermals as I wanted to be vaguely awake for the next day when we were to venture into the famous Okavango Delta.

The Okavango Delta is one of the largest true wilderness areas left in southern Africa. It is formed by the Okavango River, which starts in central Angola, before fanning out over a vast area which is home to a huge variety of animals. Eventually the waters evaporate and are soaked up by the thirsty sands of the Kalahari. We started our journey in traditional style, in a Mokoro (dug out canoe). After an hour or so we found a suitable island to set up camp. Now, this was a true bush camp, with no facilities, a hole dug for the toilet and no fences to protect you from the elephant, hippos and lions that were potentially lurking in the bushes.

We spent two nights in the delta, filling out time with game walks, learning to pole Mokoros, a stunning sunset Mokoro ride and snoozing during the midday heat. Given the vastness of the area and the abundance of water, it is very hard to find animals here. It is, however, quite exciting being out on foot, with no weapons, following the tracks of elephants and lions. We didn't find the latter, but did find giraffe and zebra.

Our evenings were spent around the camp fire, playing games and swapping stories with the local guides. I decided it was time to go to bed when Rich started trying to convince one of the guides, a Seventh Day Adventist and very surprisingly for these parts a vegan, that evolution was really not just a joke. I fell asleep to the sound of raucous laughter as Rich tried to convince him that the Earth was five billion, not five thousand, years old – he wasn't having it.

We arrived back at the base camp dirty and in desperate need of a shower. Clean and feed we left again for the airport in Maun and scenic flight over the delta. This was a 45 minute flight in a 7 seater Cessna and allows you to get a much better sense of how large the area is, and hopefully a good chance of seeing animals. Not long into the flight we saw a herd of elephants which looked spectacular from above. Unfortunately, as the flight is very low, and I spent the first 10 minutes focusing at the fast moving ground below with my camera lens, the nausea soon started to set in. I held on until just before landing, and the became closely acquainted with the sick bag. In fact all seven of us were looking very green when finally reached stable land.

Jo'burg

It's a long way from northern Kruger to Jo'burg, so after the morning game drive, I had to lead-foot it to make it to the airport before dark. It was going so well before we got pulled over by the police doing 162kph. Now, apparently, there is no spot fine for this speed, so we would have to go the the police station and pay 1000 rand bail. After doing a U-turn across the dual-carriageway onto the grass mid section, the cop suggested that this was “very unfair to tourists”, and if we just paid him a “fee” of what we could afford, then we could be on our way. I handed over 800 rand (£70), which was probability too much, but still less than the bail. As it was, with the traffic around Pretoria, we were 90 minutes late to the airport, but so was our hostel pickup. With the end of a confederations cup match clogging the streets, it took nearly two hours to get to the hostel.

We had two days in Jo'burg before the start of the overland trip, and in that time we needed to get a grand or so in US$, take a tour of Soweto and watch a rugby match. Easy? No. None of the bureaux de chance at the mall would change rand for dollars - some wanted an airline ticket (they couldn't grasp the concept that we were leaving by land), while others simply didn't have dollars. So after a futile visit to the mall, we returned to the hostel to start the Jo'burg/Soweto tour.
















We started of in a rich walled compound suburb (Mandela has a house out here), before plugging into crime ridden Hillbrow; we'd been driven through here the night before, and it is defiantly a suburb that has seen better days – to walk around here alone, at any time of day, would be lunacy. From Jo'burg we headed out to the infamous Soweto (South Western Townships), a place that today is full of sharp contrasts. On the edge sit large houses with well maintained gardens, some of which boast swimming pools in the back – all the trappings of a middle-class life. At the end of the street the large rows of male dorms start; during apartheid, Jo'burg had an appetite for cheap labour from rural areas, but not the families of these men, so the workers were housed in sheds with no electricity or indoor plumbing. Most of the housing stock of Soweto consists of two room family houses, many of which have now been extended beyond all recognition. However, on the wasteland between the various townships, live the very poorest, in unofficial tin shed shanty towns.
















The 1976 Soweto uprising started out as a protest by school children about having Afrikaans forced on them as a means of instruction – it was seen as the language of the oppressor, and eliminated any chance of bright students going to English language universities either abroad or in South Africa. The protest culminated in the police firing live rounds at groups of students; the youngest to die was 13 year old Hector Pieterson – the excellent museum in his name tells the story of the uprising, and more generally of apartheid.
















The next day we needed to get back out to the airport to get dollars and transfer to a hotel of that the trip was departing from. The hostel provided a car, but not the minibus they had picked us up in. The car, a VW, was an early 1970s model that pumped out thick clouds of smoke. At one point the driver aborted turning down a street because there was a police check point - he explained to me that if the police stopped the car they would impound it. So to avoid the police, he weaved through the back streets of Hillbrow, as we prayed it wouldn't die on us. The fact I'm writing this means we did make it, just.

Kruger

After a quick night stop in Nelspruit, where we experienced yet another South African shopping mall, we entered the southern end of Kruger National park via the Malelane Gate. This area has the highest concentration of game, but as a result it also has the highest concentration of cars. Whilst we found the cars immediately it took us took us a good few hours to find the game. In the end, all our searching in the bush for glimpses of movement of change in colours were in vain. Instead, our first significant sighting of the day walked right across the road in front of us, and was pretty hard to miss, given it was a group of five elephants.














Unfortunately, we had set ourselves a rather ambitions target for our next night's accommodating, so had to put in quite a lot of driving to make our way sufficiently far north. Still the driving is made much more interesting when you don't know what you will find around the next corner. We mostly found giraffes and elephants. Unfortunately, because it was a holiday weekend, we didn't manage to secure ourselves accommodation in the park for the first night, so instead stayed in a comfortable lodge around 20km out from Orpen Gate.














The concentration of animals is meant to decrease as you move further north in the park, but we actually had much better luck the next day finding a group of 4 lionesses (they were easy to spot given the 5 or so cars parked beside them), followed by a frisky bully elephant and many giraffe. The scenery around the central area of the park is also very beautiful, in particular the stunning view of the Olifants River that you get from the Olifants Rest Camp.

As we were staying the night in the park, at Mopani Rest Camp, we took the opportunity to do a night game drive. This started well with a beautiful male lion sat right in the middle of the road. We also met some hippos who were out for their evening grass eating. After this, things went downhill and we had to make do with bush hares.



















We spent our third day in the park exploring the northern region of the park. This area is much quieter, and for one stretch of a couple of hours not seeing any other cars, which makes the experience of finding animals much more exciting. We spent much of the day following the course of some of the many rivers, which gave us some excellent hippo sightings. We also found a herd of around 20-30 elephants together with a lone hippo, who had made their way down to the river to drink. We had a spectacular view of them down the river bank which was made even more special by the fact that there were no other cars around.














We were reminded of just how intimidating these creatures are when, a little earlier, we rounded a corner to find ourselves confronted by a startled elephant. I'm not sure if had decided if it wanted to charge us or nor, but to be on the safe side I accelerated out of the way pretty quickly, skilfully (well luckily) avoiding hitting any trees. It took quite a while for my heart rate to get back to normal.














Our day ended with another treat, a group of around six giraffes, including one who was having a good go at rutting.

We spent our final night in the park in a 'tent' at Punda Maria Rest Camp. Now this is my kind of camping. Our tent came equipped with double bed, bathroom and a fully equipped kitchen. We set off early the next morning to fit in a quick game drive before the long drive back to Jo'burg. Unfortunately we got stuck in traffic Kruger style, that is behind a very large bull elephant, so ended up leaving the park much later than intended.

Swaziland

The most notable thing about Swaziland is that it is not Lesotho. That is to say, when you cross the boarder from South Africa nothing really changes, and there are no great visual cues that you are in another country. However Swaziland is very different from SA – it is one of the world's few remaining absolute monarchies for one thing.














We'd planed to stay relatively close to the border, but unable to find the backpackers, we went on to the Mlilwane wildlife sanctuary, and took a rondaval for two nights. It was a tranquil setting, with warthogs and zebra wondering around the accommodation. There are self guided walk through the park (it lacks the dangerous predictors), but due to my illness, we just took a short one up the hippo pool, which reliably had two hippos lazing in the water.














In the evening we were offered to chance to see local dancing at the main camp. Despite these staged for tourist events being a bit dire, it would have be our only chance to see Swazi culture. However my lurgy got the better of me and we sat out.














The next day we made for the border, stopping only to pay the 60 rand (£5) speeding fine. The border itself was a strange ghost town – a former asbestosis mine which once employed thousands.

Sodwana Bay

Sodwana Bay is home to the world's southernmost coral reefs, and the most popular diving location in South Africa, so as we were in the neighbourhood I couldn't resist booking us in for a day. Unfortunately, on the morning of the dive we woke up at the required ungodly hour to find it pouring with rain – not exactly the beach paradise we had been promised. With some effort we dragged ourselves up and unenthusiastically made it on to the dive boat. Like our diving south of Durban, they use small inflatable boats (rubber duckies) and you have to cling on for dear life as the skipper skilfully (well hopefully) waits for the right moment to bomb it out through the breakers.
















Our first dive was at 9 mile reef, which is unfortunately one of the furtherest away, so after the thirty minute journey we were pretty cold. To add to this, Rich, who had come down with a stomach bug, was vomiting over the side of the boat. Not to be deterred, we rolled off the boat backwards into the water James Bond style, to find it actually pleasantly warm compared with the conditions above sea level.
















The main draw of this dive area are the lovely coral reefs, and they were certainly very pretty, helped by excellent viability and several interesting swim-throughs. Also, there weren't the strong currents like on our previous dives at Aliwal, so it was much more relaxing, or was until I realised just how cold I was and the shivering set in.
















On the way back to land we met a pod of dolphins who were eager to play, swimming right up to the boat. Unfortunately they were too close to the breakers for it to be safe for us to get in a and join them.
















Back on dry land again, and warmed up by a cup of cocoa and a hot shower, the sun was finally making an appearance making me feel much more enthusiastic for the second dive. This was at the much closer 2 mile reef (the clue is in the name). Again, this was a lovely reef dive with plenty of colourful fish and and a few turtles. The reef covers quite a large area so you can drift around with the current and still have plenty to see.
















The next day we decided it was time for a new country, so headed on northwards to Swaziland. As Rich was still feeling rather poorly (note to self that stomach bugs don't mix well with rough boat rides and scuba diving), I took over the driving. After negotiating the numerous potholes on the way back to the main road, I steeled my self to the madness of African driving. I soon relaxed and successfully executed my first two truck overtaking manoeuvre without crashing into the oncoming traffic.