The route from Karoi to Binga, following the southern Kariba shore is remote, passing numerous Batonga and Ndebele villages. We had driven it last time we were in this part of the world in one day, but this time wanted to take more time. The gravel road has been upgraded and repaired, and despite some corrugations and wash-aways, travelled quite well, if a little noisier than usual. There was a lack of camp sites but so we pulled in to a Hunting camp listed in ‘Mrs Garmin’ (sat nav) and were fortunate to be able to camp there overnight as there were no “clients”. If ever we do this again we should try to explore the reputedly beautiful mountainous Chizarira reserve where one of the campsites is on the edge of the escarpment overlooking the lake probably about 3000, almost vertical, feet below.
We revisited Ivory Lodge and enjoyed watching elephants drinking at the water hole by the hide, but were disappointed to learn that the lodge puts salt down to attract these giants, and to cap it all the kitchen staff spread vegetable peelings for the buck…!
Then one night at Vic Falls where we luxuriated in a lovely, Rastafarian run coffee shop in an upmarket curio shopping centre, read the local Sunday papers despite the fact that some were a week old. The campsite was adequate but an aggressive baboon leapt over the fence intent on pinching food from our cupboard, we spotted him just in time and every time we challenged him, he challenged us back, his teeth were much longer and slightly yellower than ours, eventually Steven threw a chair towards him as Terry wielded a plastic coat hanger (!), he backed off and when the guard arrived complete with catapult he scarpered. The previous day he had ripped open our neighbours’ tent and stolen food from inside, so maybe this recent success had emboldened him. After a few phone calls we discovered that the parts we needed for the LR were only available at Foleys in Livingstone, so left without even visiting the Falls.
Back across the border into Zambia again we stayed in Livingstone for a night, did some repairs, and checked over the LRs ready for the journey up to the Liuwa Plains via Mongu. Livingstone is a vibrant town and despite persistent street vendors, everyone seemed helpful and friendly. We ate out at a local restaurant and I chose pizza which was a mistake, should have had goat stew and nshima (pap) with local veg like Terry but I didn’t want to try his Mopane caterpillar starter! It was such a relief when the restaurant manager told us that the horrendous road to Mongu that broke our suspension last time was now new Chinese tar all the way, with a new ferry crossing half way. We didn’t visit the Falls here either as from the Zam side there is not much to see at this time of the year and we wanted to get to Liuwa before the rains - as soon as they start in earnest the park’s “black cotton” soil turns to a mud bath and there is no access again ‘till next year as the Zambezi spreads over the 35km wide flood plain.
The 200 km tar road to Sesheke took longer than we hoped as it was littered with huge, sharp edged potholes deep enough to take a wheel off (no compensation from the local council here). We found a very pretty campsite on the banks of the Zambezi, but left as there was no vehicle access and, with our roof tents, would have to sleep in the car park. We pushed on north to a site where we had camped before, only to find it had closed, we found another 2 campsites on ‘Mrs Garmin’ but they too were deserted, so we returned to “Brenda’s Best Baobab” and resigned to sleep in the car park. It poured much of the night. The next morning Brenda confirmed that although the road was finished they were still negotiating with local headmen re the use of the new ferry, so we might have to cross the Zambezi at Sitoti, further up the difficult old road, like last time.
The tar was glorious and the newest road we have ever driven in Africa, it ended more or less where the new ferry should have been, and so we pitched and heaved a further 60kms up the old road to the old ferry, knowing all the time that the new tar was somewhere beyond the 150 metres of fast flowing water on the other bank. The Sitoti ferry was in operation, we loaded up and shared the vessel with stacks of mealie sacks, women with contented babies tied onto their backs with vibrant coloured, if a little grubby chitengi, and others going about their business on either side of the Zambezi. Another 40ish kms of appalling sand road took us to Senanga where we camped the night in a hotel garden. Here we met a Doctor who was at a conference, who told us that the new ferry was indeed operating (if un-signposted) for the journey back south in a few days time. In fact, since he was travelling a day before us, undertook to send a text confirming his ferry crossing which he duly did. Next day to Mongu, camped in a mission, where the camp attendant taught us to how to roast fresh cashew nuts that had fallen off the tree that we were camped under, on a fire and open the shells using 2 stones. That night there was another heavy rain storm and we began to worry about access to the park, even if we got in would we ever get out?
The following morning we had a phone call from Charity, the Liuwa Plains Reserve booking lady, who told us the next ferry north was broken. Here too the Chinese are building a new road across the flood plain after the UN gave up a few years ago. Some questioning of locals eventually took us to the Chinese road camp HQ where the project manager was obviously so impressed that Terry and Steven had both enjoyed business trips to China that he gave us a permit to not only cross their Bailey bridge over the Zambezi but use their construction road as well. He was however full of warnings about the mud - one of their 4x4s had slid into the river yesterday and this morning even the tracked vehicles were getting bogged down in the black glue. The first 10kms on public the road was busy as locals rushed to get their business done before it closed but apart from 10 inches of slippery surface mud and one car coming perilously close to side swiping us it was pretty easy driving. We avoided the stricken ferry and it’s queues and, using the Chinese new road and temporary bridge, arrived mid afternoon. We picked up our guide, Kalebwe, and drove carefully onto the final pontoon to cross the small river that is the southern park boundary. Two Land Rovers just fit onto the pontoon, one sits in the middle as the other climbs the ramps then both creep forward until it is balanced before the whole is pulled across using the fixed rope with its many knots from previous failures. Kalebwe directed us for another hour along sand roads to the camp at Kwale which nestles beneath a cathedral of huge hardwood trees right at the edge of the plain.
Liuwa is a vast expanse of open plain on the Angolan border that floods during the rains when the river bursts its banks. As the water recedes huge herds of herbivores spread onto its new fresh grass-lands. It is said that the concentration rivals even the great Serengeti. We had long wanted to visit here but access is strictly limited to 25 vehicles at any one time and it is so far from anywhere that you must travel with at least one other 4x4. There is no drinkable water, no fuel or supplies and, if you have a problem, no help. There are three unfenced camps each with five pitches but here at Kwale we were again completely alone. Such isolation is an exhilarating feeling and we were acutely aware of the privilege of treading where few other men have trod.
We had great hopes of witnessing this wildebeest migration, and the best time to see it is now, the plains were vast but our sightings were small groups of wildebeest, zebra and the very pretty oribi with the occasional hyena, one carrying a ‘beast head away. One stroke of luck was bumping into a BBC crew filming wild dog for Survival and a new series called The Hunt (2015), they mentioned the GPS coordinates for where they had left the pack they were filming and off we went, 6 kms completely off road across the rough plain trying to avoid holes dug by the various resident wildlife. Eventually we found a water hole and there was the pack of 13 wild (painted) dog with three hyena trying to steal their kill - fantastic! We stayed an hour or so but left as we didn’t want to disturb the pack (or spoil the BBC film!). There are only two known packs on the plains and less than 5,500 left in Africa.
We continued across this uncharted territory to try to find the next usable road as this was where the huge herds were supposed to be but after a further hour of bouncing up and down and with a long way to go back we returned to camp as dusk was falling. Next morning we were surprised to see about 300 wildebeest grazing near our camp, we walked to the edge of the trees to watch them as the sun rose and we drank our morning cup of tea and imagined them to be the thousands we had hoped for. Sadly we then had to leave as we had only booked two nights in the park and in any case it was again looking like rain.
“We never put bacon in it, it just says that on the menu” was the waitress’s response when we inquired why there was none on the “chicken and bacon burger”. And so it became a catch phrase and when something was not quite what we expected (as is often the case here in Africa) one of us would say “It just says that on the menu”. Examples include the five year old dry earthen hole at Barefoot Safari’s camp site which says in the book and on its road signs that it has a swimming pool and the lodge which advertised camping but doesn’t have a site when you get there, like the ablution block which had no water and Steven’s spaghetti bolognaise which turned out to be mince with mealie pap. So when we saw the piece of cardboard with “Ferry Closed” scrawled on it we just nodded wisely to ourselves and thought – It just says that on the menu. In any case we had the good doctor’s text that said he had crossed yesterday. We thundered on down the new tar as dusk fell as we had (unusually) phoned ahead and booked into a rather nice camp site on the other side which had a bar, fresh fish and good hot showers. We were running a bit late so were relieved to get there 15 mins before it closed for the day. Imagine our disappointment to find a gaggle of waiting cars and busses, a number of agitated people and their heaped up goods and the ferry over the other side. It had broken down that morning and they were waiting for a new alternator to come by bus from Lusaka, 1000’s of kilometres away. We grubbily wild camped on the banks of the Zambezi, watched lightening all around and car headlights whizzing by on the tar on the other side of the river as we contemplated the 80ks of tar and 100ks of axle testing dirt that we would tackle tomorrow to get to the other side. Sheepishly we realized that sometimes the menu is right!
On to Botswana next.
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