Overlanding across Africa and beyond : 4x4plus2.com

Zambia 27th July to 23rd September

An Expensive Return to Lusaka

After a last night by Zambezi ..goodbye noble river!.. we returned to Lusaka to pick up our Nikon from the camera shop on Cairo Road, Kampala’s main thoroughfare. Peter went in to collect it .. Not ready! What do you mean, ‘fuse blown as you were reassembling it’! Now look here.... ! Peter blew a fuse too and left demanding it be ready by 9am the next day, returning to the heat of Cairo Road only to find that, despite Liz being in the vehicle with the keys, Boris had been clamped for illegal parking and a release fee of four hundred and fifty thousand kwacha was being demanded! A heated argument, initially in the street then back at the city hall, saw the fee reduced by half accompanied by threats to impound Boris if it wasn’t paid. This, plus the cost the next morning of the still fuse-less camera ..yes, on reflection we shouldn’t have paid even a much reduced repair fee.. and a speeding fine ..don’t ask!.. all came to a million kwacha thrown away in Lusaka. Time to go!

An Offer of Zimbabwean Hospitality
Whilst at Pioneer Camp and before we left for the Lower Zambezi, we had met a delightful Zimbabwean couple, Brian and Tracy May and their young son CJ. They were taking a couple of days away from managing a lodge in the South Luangwa National Park, when we asked them to recommend a campsite ..outside the park, no camping was allowed inside.. without hesitation they insisted we came to their lodge and camped there at no cost, only paying for game drives and whatever we had at the lodge! Wowee! .. staying at a lodge in Zambia’s premier national park, we just couldn’t believe our luck and Brian and Tracy’s kindness. Leaving Lusaka on 11th September it took us two days to travel east the four hundred miles to their lodge, at one point we were staying in Chipata, a regional capital only fifteen or so miles from the Mozambican border. Here we visited a craft centre, leaving somewhat underwhelmed by what was on display, and then the local market, Liz buying the ingredients for a fabulous campsite version of Zambian cuisine that evening at ‘Mama Rula’s’.

On the edge of the market stood groups of taxis that featured throughout Zambia; not cars, but bicycle taxis. Sometimes adorned with a colourful selection of reflectors and an impressive array of rear view mirrors on the handlebars, each had a padded seat over the rear mud guard. Here the client sat, normally in a side saddle position, often holding close shopping bags or a child, whilst the taxi driver peddled away manfully without pause up hill and down dale and for whom it was a matter of honour not to fail the climb no matter how steep.

Luangwa River Lodge
The following morning we left Chipata and the central African plateau behind and, on a dreadfully maintained and corrugated track, descended into the heat of the Luangwa valley. Close to the park, the village of Mfuwe has within it a most interesting and creative craft and design centre, Tribal Textiles. We had seen examples of their stunning hand printed material in Livingstone and couldn’t resist a visit. We were rewarded with a guided tour of the print making process, whilst they and the craft stalls nearby were rewarded with our kwacha!

A visit to Tribal Textiles Mfuwe

The Luangwa River forms the central third of the eastern park boundary, at the centre of which is the Mfuwe Bridge and the entrance to the park. Aptly named, Brian and Tracey’s Luangwa River Lodge stood on the bank of the river to the north of the bridge and outside the park; this was of no consequence as the park authorities had agreed that they could park their game viewing vehicle on the park bank opposite the lodge, ferrying guests across by boat or, when the water level had dropped sufficiently, fording the river. Indeed, as we were to discover, this was their advantage as it was in effect a short cut and so maximised the time spent on a game drive

As we approached through unburnt and untouched undergrowth, beneath a forest canopy illuminated by soft dappled sunlight and replete with the magnificent and graceful silhouettes of old growth mahogany, the omens were good. Groups of brilliantly coloured carmine bee-eaters were everywhere, so too elephant; at one point nearing to the lodge we panicked, three elephants were lying close to each other dead on the ground ..a heart wrenching moment that ended when one began to get to its feet; in a habit peculiar to South Luangwa elephants, they were having a midday siesta! We were welcomed by Brian and Tracy; both originally came from Bulawayo and had been teenage sweethearts, leaving the frustrations of Zimbabwe wildlife management for England before returning to Africa and managing the lodge for the past two years. A truly professional and dedicated couple in whose debt we will forever remain for inviting us to stay in the grounds of their understated but very stylish lodge, sample some excellent cuisine and provide us with the highlight of our visit to Zambia. Thank you!

Tracy and Brian, Luangwa River Lodge

Just Perfect
We stayed for four glorious days; days and nights packed with incident, interest and game drives. From the second day, 15th September, we were accompanied by a delightful Scottish honeymoon couple, Mike and Jenny Thomson .. well, Jenny was American, but, having married a Scot in Edinburgh, she was at the very least an honorary Scot! Victor, who had years of experience as one of ZAWA’s South Luangwan rangers before coming to the lodge, was our guide on our day and night game drives; using his absolutely unbelievable night skills to detect, amongst others, leopard, hunting lions and feeding hyenas and by day a fount of information on the fauna and flora we came across. For Peter, going on a morning walking safari with Brian, escorted by an armed ranger, was a major and rewarding highlight; Brian, who qualified as a professional guide in Zimbabwe, had a fascinating encyclopaedic and anecdotal knowledge of the animals, animal signs, insects (in particular termites!) and plants they came across. The most perfect nature ramble!

Victor, our guide South Luangwa NP

To Shiwa Ng’andu
All good things must come to an end and we left Brian and Tracy on the morning of 19th September heading to our last ‘must see’, a Bradt Guide inspired visit to Shiwa Ng’andu and Kapishya Hot Springs in north eastern Zambia and on our way to the Malawian border. We crossed the Mfuwe bridge and then the park, a crossing that took the best part of the day and followed by a dramatic and spectacular three thousand feet ascent of the Muchinga Escarpment, slipping and sliding on a rocky bolder strewn track, sometimes almost perpendicular and peppered with heart stopping hairpin bends, before we were once again on the plateau that is such a large part of Zambia’s topography.

Signs in the Dark
Once in the cooler climes of the plateau the track and temperature improved, the latter dropping from a humid 35 degrees C to a pleasant 27 degrees, and we began to look for a bush campsite. We found one in woodland and not having come across a village since arriving on the plateau, we assumed it was well away from human habitation, despite being close to a large clearing. ‘Iddoo!..Iddoo!..Iddoo!’, the polite request to come closer came out of the darkness. The three men, dressed in tatty shorts and T shirts spoke little English, but made clear that they wanted to warn us that they were about to set fire to the clearing.

With one hand holding the torch to illuminate his gestures, Peter used theatrical one handed sign language, supported by the appropriate noises, to explain to an increasingly amused trio that we were sleeping for one night only, that the wind direction would ensure that the fire in the clearing would be no threat to us and to thank them for coming. Duty done, the trio left and soon a distant orange glow signalled the start of their night’s task ..we never got round to finding why it had to be done at night!

To our surprise the trio reappeared at about 6.30 the next morning, in daylight it was clear that the youngest, and better dressed, was in charge. Not without some embarrassed hesitancy, he asked for a lift to the main road; a beaming smile greeted our agreement. It transpired that Paul was the son of the landowner and as his settlement was very close by he would return after breakfast. This he did, but to our horror he was pushing a large and heavy Chinese made sit-up-and-beg bicycle, nearly giving Peter a hernia as he man handled it onto the roof rack! With the three of us cramped in the front and the wheels of the unsecured bicycle extending over the sides of the roof rack and wobbling dangerously, we bumped and bounced the forty minute journey ..three hours by bicycle.. to the main road.

Kapishya Hot Springs
We arrived at the campsite at Kapishya at lunchtime and were completely bowled over by the beauty of it all; the grass covered, shaded site ran down to a fast flowing, tree lined river shallow enough for the sunlit water to create that mesmerising sound of crystal clear water cascading over rocks; it was as if we had been transported to the Lake District in Cumbria. Stunning! Added to which and accessed by a short path through dense bird filled woodland were the hot springs. Time to chill out in the clear warm water of the rock and sand lined hot spring pool ..magic!

Relaxing, Kapishya hot spring

We stayed longer than intended at this little piece of paradise. Over a two day period relaxing at the campsite, taking a slow ..despite some bits of swirling water or gentle rapids as Liz called them.. and utterly peaceful three hour boat ride down the Manshya River, and enjoying sundowners in the beautifully kept flower, vegetable and herb gardens before a last Zambian meal in the restaurant.

Sir Stewart Gore-Browne’s Legacy
Mark and his lovely wife Mel were based at Kapisha, whilst his older brother Charlie was at Shiwa Ng’andu some twelve miles to the east running the huge family estate and living in an imposing quasi English manor house, both created by their maternal grandfather, Sir Stewart Gore-Browne. Born into the privileged English upper class at the zenith of the Victorian imperial era, Gore-Browne chanced upon this area of Northern Rhodesia in 1914 and was so taken with it, the large lake at its centre ..Shiwa Ng’andu means ‘Lake of the Royal Crocodile’.. and a nearby hill’s connection with Livingstone’s final ill-fated journey, that he determined to acquire a large tract of land, settle there and create an estate.

He bought sixty square miles of African bush, the lake and hill included, but, serving in the Army throughout The Great War, did not return to begin the realisation of his dream until 1920. His fascinating story, described in The Africa House, became a best seller when published ten years ago. In a highly entertaining and readable form, the book relates how he went about it and the toll it took on his personal life; the origin of the name Chipembele that the Bemba people bestowed on him and his paternalistic attitude towards them; his support first for native autonomy and then for independence; and the state funeral accorded him by the then President of Zambia, Kenneth Kaunda, in 1967 .. the only such honour ever bestowed by a post colonial, black African government upon a white man in Africa.. in a fitting epitaph the President said of Gore-Browne, ‘He was born an Englishman and died a Zambian’. Truly a very readable book, we should know; last thing at night, Peter has been reading it to Liz for the past three weeks!

Main avenue leading from Manor House, Shiwa Ngandu

We just had to visit the estate, lake and manor house and, as planned, did so on the morning of the 22nd September. We were welcomed to the house by Charlie and given a short tour, before leaving to visit Sir Stewart’s grave, on a viewpoint with magnificent views over the estate, and finally his beloved lake. Since taking over the estate in 2000, Charlie has done a fantastic job reversing the years of decline since Sir Stewart’s death and more recently the murder of Charlie’s parents in 1992. In rescuing the estate from a slow death by the subtle advance of nature, he has; provided employment for local people; ploughed large sums of money back into the local community projects; and revitalised local heath care and the hospital. A chip off the old block!

Immigration and Customs
The border crossing that attracted us most, little used and reached via a spectacular piste through the Zambian highlands, was, Charlie assured us, not manned by the Zambians at all and so he told us to go first to the immigration office in Isoka. Thanking Charlie for this important piece of advice we reassessed our route; the town was about a hundred miles away, but fortunately it was close to The Great North Road, our intended route, and not far from where we would turn off onto the eighty miles of cross country track to the border.

The latest and tarred incarnation of The Great North Road had by-passed Isoka, leaving it with a long, wide and dusty mud main road going nowhere. The town gave a fair imitation of a ‘spaghetti western’ style wild west settlement but with an African touch; the width of the red-brown main road was accentuated by earthen drainage ditches, lacking maintenance they now little more than a rubbish filled indentation, and beyond which, on more baked mud on either side of the road, stood a low line of ramshackle and dilapidated one storey commercial premises jumbled amongst the rusting remains of motor cars and piles of yet more rubbish. The sun seemed to take on a new, fiercer intensity and dust, whipped up from the road’s surface by the wind, filled the air ..now, where was that haunting melody and the clink-clink of Clint Eastwood’s spurs!

We eventually found the one roomed immigration office hidden amongst a small complex of government bungalows on a small hill overlooking the town. It was almost filled by two substantial moth eaten wooden desks; behind them the notice boards were empty apart for a 2008 calendar, the wooden ‘in’ and ‘out’ trays on the clerks desk were empty and the immigration officer was ‘away but come back’. The clerk, whose left eye was blind and disconcertingly opaque, confirmed that there was no customs post in Isoka but assured us that, by virtue of an ‘arrangement’, the immigration officer could stamp our Carnet and so we would not need to travel to the nearest customs post, at a commercial border crossing point some one hundred miles further north. Phew! After a wait of about twenty minutes the officer appeared looking a little flustered and, once the ink pad had been found, our passports and Carnet were signed and stamped; we were free to cross the border, when we got there!

To the Border
Leaving Isoka and we pulled in at a small Total service station to use up our remaining Zambian kwacha buying diesel. Neither pump was working and the price per litre not displayed, after some hard bargaining a price was agreed and, using an inverted plastic litre coke bottle with its bottom cut off as a funnel, the fuel decanted into Boris from a jerry can, itself refilled from an assortment of yellow plastic containers! We were fairly relaxed about all this as, from talking to another overlander, we already knew that this was the way fuel was obtained in this remote part of Zambia.

Our diversion to Isoka had eaten into the afternoon to such an extent that, once we had left The Great North Road, we now had to bush camp rather than continue on to the border. We spent our last night in Zambia near to the upper reaches of the Luangwa River, in woodland amongst the rolling foothills of the border’s high plateau area. A perfect farewell, if it hadn’t been for distant glow of burning undergrowth ...enough, Peter!

Leaving early the next morning we began a slow, sun drenched and spectacular climb up onto a high plateau that extended almost to the edge of Lake Malawi. In the haze and against the sun, the range of hills and mountains lost colour the more distant they were; the vibrant mix of shades of greens, reds and browns, first becoming a dark black and losing the contrast that highlights valleys and ravines, then in the mid-distance a uniform flat grey and finally, the most distant, became a delicate, seemingly infinite variation of misty grey that nonetheless lent an air of forbidding bulk to their cardboard cut out like silhouette.

The plateau, at 22 degrees C and a full ten degrees cooler than the area of our bush camp, was not so much flat as gently rolling and peppered with massive inselbergs; here we turned off the main track that remained in Zambia and onto one leading to the border and, judging by its state and the lack of a set of twin cleared lines created by the passage of tyres, it rarely saw a vehicle. Either side of this narrow, sandy track a sea of short growing shrubs surrounded us, stunted by the condition of the soil and the elements, extending as far as the eye could see and, as we drove on, every so often a small settlement, their inhabitants seemingly too stunned by our approach to return our greetings, and the children running to the security of their hut doorway. Unmarked and unnoticed by us we crossed the border into Malawi and continued on towards what we hoped would be a border post at the settlement of Chisenga.