Saturday 26 August 2017: Sylvia

I had been in Shanghai for the week for work and needed to be there again next week. David, the Chinese GM, had kindly organised for me to spend a weekend in Suzhou in between as we would spend Monday there.

After a very busy week where I had been scheduled every minute from early until late it was a relief to have a slightly later start on Saturday morning. Stacey, one of my work colleagues, and I were picked up at the hotel at 9:30 and transferred to the Shanghai Pet Fair where we were able to mix and mingle with some quarter of a million others at the largest Pet Fair, certainly in Asia and most likely in the world.

At 12:45 we were transferred to the train station and escorted through for our short, 25 minute ride to Suzhou, where we were again met and transferred to our hotel. Suzhou is a small scale city in China terms with a population of over 12 million. It is a beautiful city with canals, a large lake and lots of beautiful gardens, that in more recent times has also become a significant business hub. Apple, Bosch and Microsoft all have offices and R&D centres in the technology centre here.

Stacey and I decided to wander the canals around the hotel to the lake that we could see from our rooms. Despite the 34+ degree heat we were able to enjoy the scenery, and relaxing with drinks overlooking the lake area.

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Sunday 27 August 2017

This morning we were met at the hotel at 10am by our guide for the day, Julia. The first stop on our itinerary was Tiger Hill, apparently the most scenic part of Suzhou, in the old city. The old part of the city has retained a lot of its original architecture with white houses with grey roofs with upturned eaves. Nothing in the old part of the city was allowed to be built taller than the Black Pagoda so it is predominantly low rise. This is in sharp contrast to the more modern parts of the city where a large upside down U shaped building (Julie said it looks like pants) has about 78 floors and another tower is under construction that will have more than 120 floors.

Tiger Hill was once the main palace area of the local king, who built a number of gates to protect the area from invaders. He was eventually buried in the area in a hidden tomb. Apparently the 1000 workers who built the tomb were all executed to ensure the location remained a secret. At the top of the hill is a large pagoda, which is the landmark for Suzhou. When they found the tomb several years ago (it was flooded to ensure it would not be found), the local officials had the option of opening the tomb to the public and likely losing the pagoda (which already has a lean on) or retaining the pagoda. They chose the latter and the tomb is still hidden from view in an underwater cave.

We were amused by some of the English signs in the area.

After exploring the pagoda area we wandered down the back side of the hill (and I should have mentioned it is really more of a hump) through beautiful bamboo gardens etc.

Our next stop was the Lingering Garden, once the private garden of a wealthy family in the area. It is a typical Chinese garden complete with corridors and hidden windows to tease and build anticipation of the garden to come. We decided that the Chinese must be more patient than us Westerners – or at least than Stacey and I. There was also a large walled courtyard area with numerous bonsai trees inside. I hadn’t realised that the bonsai tree (called something different in Chinese) actually originated in China, not Japan.

After a traditional Chinese lunch, sampling some Suzhou specialties we headed to the old part of the city with its narrow streets and canals. It was lovely to wander the narrow streets, hung with the ubiquitous red lanterns. We finished up in an old style tea house to watch some traditional Suzhou opera and ballads. To be honest, the music was not really my style and all sounded much the same but it was pleasant to relax for a bit in air-conditioned comfort.

I have now visited several Chinese cities and while I wouldn’t quite go as far as the Chinese saying that suggests that Suzhou is heaven on earth, it is certainly the prettiest Chinese city I have visited to date.

Wednesday 2 August 2017

We flew out of Krakow on Easy Jet around 1.30pm, landing at Gatwick around 3pm. Rob and Denine were there to meet us in a transit van. Rob had his 750cc Suzuki Thunder bike extreme in the back. We headed up the M40 for a very slow trip to Oxford. Checking into Vanbrugh Hotel, we headed out to catch up with Rob and Denine’s son Sam and his girlfriend Gabby. We met at the Turf Pub, quite an old place, first serving ale in 1831. With low ceilings and quite a few rooms it was quite busy  but we managed to find a table outside to enjoy a good meal and a few ales. A scene from one of the Harry Potter movies was filmed here.

Thursday 3 August 2017

After breakfast at a local cafe we took a stroll around the town, checking out some of the history and old attractive buildings. Our final stop was the bell tower of the St Mary’s Church built around 1200. This gave us a good view over this lovely small town famous for its universities and colleges. We were surprised by the number of beggars on the street.

Early afternoon we were on the road heading north. Around 5pm we arrived at Oulton Park. We unloaded the van into one of the many garages and headed to the wee town of Little Budworth. After checking in to the Red Lion Tavern we enjoyed an evening meal and a good chat over a pint of the pretty average local ale.

Rob and Denine, originally from NZ, have been living in England for over thirty years. They have known Steve for thirty plus years.

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Friday 4 August 2017

Rob is at the track by 8am to start getting prepared for today’s practice races. The BMRC (British Motor Cycle Racing Club) runs ten events between March and October each year. There are ten different classes of bikes racing here, ranging from 250CC smelly, two-strokes up to the power bikes at 1000CC plus.

Steve and I stroll to the track around nine. The park is stunning with well kept grounds surrounded by pretty English countryside.

Steve and I spend the the day moving around the track watching the bikes being put through their paces. Rob, number 39, is practicing and racing in two classes to get more track time.

These guys wear a pad on the outer side of their knees, which rubs on the ground as they get the bike over as far as possible to take the corners. Rob makes a point of introducing us to lots of other very friendly riders. We met a chap called Talan, an ex Royal Navy Officer, who became a paraplegic after leaving the navy. He was knocked off his motorbike on the road and run over by a car. He decided he wanted to take up motor bike racing. He is basically strapped to the bike with velcro, held up by a couple of people at the start and caught by a couple at the end. Apart from that, watching him race one wouldn’t know he was disabled. He was telling us that after one crash he saw his leg sticking out to one side and realising his femur must be broken thought “I am really glad I can’t feel that”. He has a great little Video on vimeo called “The Little Person Inside”  https://vimeo.com/109999643

We had a ride around the track in the track car with Giles, a former bike racer. He drove us on the line a bike would take. “Along here I would be doing 120, braking for the corner here, accelerating here trying to to keep the front wheel down as I reach 160 here” and on it went. By the way they talk in miles per hour here.

It is really interesting to hear these guys talk as they feel everything the bike is doing in milliseconds and can spend a minute telling you how the bike felt going around one corner, which took a couple of seconds. Another nice chap I met, called Jason, was taking a couple of years off track cycling after winning 6 Olympic golds and a silver. His father was there helping him at the track.

After the practice was over we headed to a lovely town called Tarporley to dine at Pisce, a Swiss Restaurant. We were joined by some of the people from Rob’s garage. Left side: Mark, Ksenia, Jess, Ross, Micheal, Fabiene. Right side: Rob, Denine, Steve, Roger and Alex.

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Saturday 5 August 2017

It’s racing day! Rob had put new tyres and new front brake pads on the bike at the end of yesterday. At dinner last night Ross was telling me about his 20 odd broken bones; Michae,l a former British Super Bike rider, only 15. Nobody takes chances with kit here – everything is kept in tip top shape. We watch Ross in the MRO 600 series.

Michael comes in second and third in his two power bike races; his brother Mark, on his Ducati, is a bit further down the field.

Rob places 4th in the  Thunder Bike Extreme race, which he is pleased with. He hasn’t had a broken bone in his five years of racing.

The day over, the garage is packed up and goodbyes said before we get on the road.

 

We head west and soon cross the border into North Wales. My father, originally from the Welsh Rhonda Valley, worked for a while in North Wales. He always said it was a pretty part of the world. We headed up a valley through trees alongside a river.

Large numbers of sheep grazed the paddocks, a bit like one used to see in NZ before the switch to dairy. At the top of the valley we arrived at the Hand Hotel in the village of Llanarmon. Rod and Denine had booked us in for the night. Originally a farm house built in the 1500’s with cow shed at the back, it later became a hotel to cater for drivers. It has a bar, pool room, restaurant and a few other rooms, plus, judging by the number of people at breakfast the next morning, lots of guest rooms.

We checked in then headed across the road to another pub, also with numerous bars and rooms. We had dinner at the Hand, three of us choosing the Welsh lamb, I think the best meal I have had since leaving NZ.

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Sunday 6 August 2017

After breakfast we headed out for a stroll. Dr Who must be a regular visitor here as they still have a phone box here, complete with telephone. No cell phone signal around here.

The village is very pretty with its well kept stone cottages. There is a push bike race on; most of the riders say hi as they go past, some even stopping for a chat. A little way up the road a farmer rounds up a mob of sheep on a hill with a welsh border collie. The others watch in amazement how the dog works the sheep. I have great delight in explaining to Steve that this is what the new collie he just bought should be doing.

At the top of the hill Rob and Denine head back. Steve and I carry on enjoying the countryside and farm buildings for housing stock during the winter.

 

Soon after arriving back at the Hand we set out on the 5-hour trip back to Guildford, just out of London, where Rob and Denine live. After checking into the local Raddison Hotel Rob took us for a stroll around the town, which borders the Surry countryside, stopping at a couple of local pubs and a restaurant.

The remains of a King Henry the 8th castle are still there, with very well presented gardens.

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Monday 7 August 2017

Rob very kindly runs me to the airport after dropping Denine off at work. Rob and Steve are heading off to Stonehenge and me back to the south of France. It’s been a brilliant few days with lots of laughs and banter. A big thanks to Rob and Denine, whom I had never met before, for showing us a great time.

Friday 28 July 2017

After an 0430 ‘no answer’ call to Air Baltic, I headed back to Lufthansa. The woman on the counter said go and try some other numbers. They wouldn’t work so I went back to Lufthansa and struck a helpful woman who actually got hold of an Air Baltic supervisor in Lapland. “Sorry I can’t help – you will have to buy a fare off Lufthansa and write to us.”

Arriving in Tallinn around noon I caught up with Steve and we headed off around the old town.

Steve takes over todays story from here.

Last night I sent Roger the address:  Uus 26, Tallinn.  He’d been bumped in Frankfurt and was grateful to know he had a home to head for.  Uus 26 is not a big address but he turned up at reception the next afternoon.  We’d arranged to meet in Estonia to kick off a 4 or 5 day 1,300km road trip south through the Baltic States then exit via Krakow in Poland.

The plan was to spend this first day in the old town of Tallinn snooping around the tourist sights then head for Riga down in Latvia late afternoon.  But on recommendation from our friends The Finns, Karen and I took the kids from Helsinki to Tallinn on the ferry a week before I was due to hook up with Roger.  The Finns were right.  Tallinn is well worth a visit.  So I’d called Roger.  “Change of plan.  Tallinn warrants more than a few hours.  OK?”  He was at dinner in South Africa.  “Yeah, good one.  Book us a bed.”  I think he meant two beds.

I spent an hour in the morning before he arrived visiting the small museum of the Estonian Popular Front.  While not in English, it graphically portrays the rise of the independence movement, culminating in Estonia declaring independence on 20 August 1991.  After settling Roger into the apartment (and reminding management to find us a second bed) we hit the streets in the old town of Tallinn.

Dating from the 12th century, the Old Town in Tallinn has an authentic feel and is very well-preserved.  Like many such towns in Europe, tourism is its thing now.  “There’s no better place to get scammed than in the Old Town” quipped our apartment manager.  True of any tourist destination these days.  It’s high season and sure, there are a heap of tourists, but it is not crowded.  In fact, it is very agreeable.  Enough people to give the place some bustle but still easy to get a table.  We climbed the cobbled streets up to the medieval heart at Toompea and found the lookout points atop the old city walls.  We spent too long trying to figure out what the huge building was on the horizon beside the Soviet era 314m tall Tallinn TV Tower dominating the eastern horizon.  We could see Lennusadam seaplane museum at the coast in the other direction and decided to head there.

 

I’d been to Lennusadam the week before but was happy to go again.  The huge seaplane hangar was built early last century as part of Peter the Great’s sea fortress.  It is a very impressive structure housing a maritime museum, which includes the Lembit, a 1930’s era British designed submarine.  Docked outside is the icebreaker Suur Toll, the most powerful icebreaker in the world in the early 1900’s.  Both the old ships are worth a look.  It’s an easy walk through the local residential streets to get there.  We passed an inviting neighbourhood garden bar and noted it for the return trip.

              

I’d read that the tour of Patarei – a former prison in a bloody grim fort on the coast beside Lennusadam – was excellent so planned to go there.  Unfortunately, I’d not spotted the note that the prison tours were now closed.  A pity.  We’d have loved to get inside.

On the walk back into town we wandered over a huge dilapidated terraced structure on the waterfront.  We could not fathom what it was.  It seemed to have some now-defunct civic or ceremonial purpose.  Roger being Roger, asked the prettiest young blonde he could find nearby.  Turns out we’re standing atop the Linnahall, a concert hall built for the 1980 Moscow Olympics when Tallinn hosted the Olympic yachting regatta.  The plan, according to Roger’s “guide”, was to make it beautiful again.  Demolition might be more practical than renovation.  Linnahall looks like it was chucked together in a hurry by workers who did not want the work.

Back in the old town and thirsty, we stopped at two of the many watering holes to sample some very good Estonian IPAs while we built an appetite for dinner.  Tallinn offers excellent dining.  The Tallinn chefs have built a well-deserved reputation for new takes on local foods.  Rataskaevu 16 is a bit of a hipster joint.  It won an award or two this year so it’s booked out a week ahead.  But if you tell them you’re from New Zealand and don’t mind waiting outside while supping on one of their good craft beers then somehow a table just appears.  And the food is superb.  Roast elk with mushrooms eased down with a good Argentinian red.

I was pleased to see the second bed when we finally got back to our apartment in the wee hours of the next day.

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Saturday 29 July 2017

We headed to the airport to pick up our Budget rental car, which Steve’s wife Karen had kindly booked for us to drop of in Krakow, Poland. Steve presented the booking to the guy at the counter. “We don’t have any record of it and you can’t take our cars out of the Baltic states!”Furthermore he said he didn’t have any cars! Eventually he found one and we agreed to to drop it off in Kaunas, Lithuania. “We don’t let cars go to Poland – they have to stay in the Baltic States. We let one go once and they left it down there for three weeks and we couldn’t get it back.” Maybe they should tell the booking people that.

Eventually we were on the road to Riga. The road heads cross country. The land is dead flat. It’s either crops or forestry. Even though in places freshly baled hay lay on the fields there was no sign of stock or fences.

We stopped at Parnu, a nice little town where the road met the coast. We sat outside a cafe and watched people going about their business.

Soon after that we crossed the now unmanned border  into Latvia. The road from here followed the coast down to Riga. At one point we stopped at a beach; with its white sand and only a few people on it it was quite an attractive place.

At a nice cafe we saw the only animals of the day, two goats in a pen.

Arriving in Riga around 5pm we checked into the Hotel Roma; old but well maintained with large foyers on each floor. I had visited Riga three years ago and noticed many buildings were being restored. We took a stroll through the old part of town down to the Daugava river.

Originally settled in the 2nd century it has, like most places in the Baltics, changed hands many times, gaining independence in 1918. In the previous 700 years it been ruled by Germany, Sweden and Russia. Riga was once the largest city in Sweden and later the second largest city in Russia after Moscow. The Germans took it back in 1941, then the Russians in 1944. It finally gained independence a second time from Russia in 1991 along with the other Baltic states.

We continued our stroll up the river where lots of people gathered on the edge or the river walkway.  An underpass  brought us next to the markets. Four big sheds here were built in the 1930’s to house Zeppelins.

We strolled back around the canal with its grassy banks to the hotel.

In the evening, Luke, a friend of Steve’s, met us and took us to a great little restaurant called 3pavari (the three chefs). We had paper table mats on which the waitress came and spread a combination of blackcurrant pesto and strawberry hokypoki which were the dips for our bread. The local trout was delicious. Deciding to stay local I ordered the “recommended by the waitress” local desert with its onion sponge, black sesame ice cream and fermented garlic biscuits. I will never order again.

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Sunday 30 July 2017

We spent an hour or so over breakfast working out how to get past Kaunas in Lithuania where we had to drop the car off.  Eventually we booked a bus to Suwalki that would at least get us into Poland. Next we headed to Albert St in Riga to check out some Art Nouveau buildings, designed by Russian Architect Mikhail Eisenstein and completed around 1901. These are pretty unique and have mostly been restored. All the plaster features have been carved in place on the buildings.

We headed south through Jurmala passing lots of large holiday homes. After a brew at a roadside cafe we were intending to stop at the hill of crosses. As we approached the turn off we saw a long line of cars heading up the road towards them so gave them a miss.

The country was much the same as it had bean since Tallinn, flat fields trees and crops all the way.

Striking lots of road works along the way we were starting to run late. There was a flash from the roadside so I guess the ticket is in the mail. We arrived at Kaunas with minutes to spare. Dropping of the car we took a cab with a fat, smelly driver to the city bus terminal – yes he did rip us off. We boarded the rather nice Eco-Lines bus with a cheerful conductor who even confirmed how ugly Steve looked in his passport photos. We spent most of the two and a half hour journey on line and making phone calls trying to find a rental car to get us from Suwalki to Krakow.

Getting off the bus we strolled to the Hotel Loft 1898 ,which we had booked on line. At NZ$144  for the two of us we weren’t expecting what we got. Built in an old army barracks, the place was brand new and really well fitted out with excellent staff. It got better with beer costing only 9 zloty (about 2 euro).

We sat outside still trying to work out how we were going to get out of here. We then decided to see if we could find someone that did guided tours. We found one on the net and sent an email. To our surprise Anna from “Into Poland” came straight back to us. Two beers later we had a driver booked to take us to the Wolfs Lair and on to Krakow – around a thousand kilometre journey.

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Monday 31 July 2017

Peter our driver is waiting in the foyer at 8am and we set of to the Wolfs Lair. Heading out through the suburbs of Suwalki we are impressed with the nice houses and tidy gardens. The countryside in this part of Poland is rolling with lush grassy fields, cows grazing and lots of crops with stands of trees.

Around 10am we arrived at the Wolfs Lair in the Masurian woods to be met by Javwiga, our guide for the next couple of hours. This place is an amazing piece of engineering built in stages between 1941 and 1944. As the allied bombs got bigger they made the structures bigger. There was a workforce of around thirty thousand employed during the construction period. The locals and others thought it was a chemical plant that was being built here. For the semi-bomb-proof buildings, precast beams were brought from Hamburg and laid next to each other to make the roof.

First stop was the remains of the 50m meeting room where in 1944 Stauffenberg left a briefcase with a bomb in to try and kill Hitler.

Close to there is a monument to the Poles who spent 10 years clearing the 54 thousand mines that had been placed to protect the site.

Next stop was the guest bunker, about 10m high with two layers of rooms inside surrounded by by several meters of concrete. Air filtration systems were in place in case of chemical attacks. Originally these bunkers were a bit smaller but after the British started using the Tall Boy bomb they added another 2 meters of concrete both on top and around the sides with an air gap to add additional protection.

We then moved on to Hitlers bunker, built the same way but with an area added on with windows for him to hang out and entertain people in.

Georing had a similar bunker with a large guest house including wine cellar next door. He also had air defenses on the top of his bunker with shafts for the gun crews to get access.

There were a few more bunkers of this style around the camp for communication and other operations that needed maximum protection. As the Russians approached towards the end of the war the Germans blew up all the big bunkers using up  to seven tons of TNT on each one. The blast was so powerful it tipped the several meter thick concrete roofs of the structures. Apparently the blasts were so big they cracked the ice in a lake some distance away. As a joke people have placed sticks under some of the tilted ones to look like they are being held up.

Javwiga had been an excellent guide filling us in on many details, not only about the development but also about the Russian occupation period.

The trip to Krakow was quite slow until Warsaw, where the roads improved and Peter gunned the Audi station wagon along at 160kps plus.

The journey southeast to Krakow revealed a lot more population than we had seen in the north.

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Tuesday 1 August 2017

A guy in a Mercedes van picked us up from the Conrad Hotel in Krakow. I had booked the tour through Get Your Guide, thinking it was going to be a group of four or or five. We were dropped at a hotel and moved to a 36-seater bus. An hour or so later we were at Auschwitz. For some time Sylvia and I have looked at groups of people with head phones and radio receivers walking around tourist areas listening to the guide on their head sets. We are both very clear that is something we would not want to do. Yes you got it – soon with the thirty plus in our group we were wired for sound after heading through security. We grouped our way to the main entrance with the sign over the gate. “Meaningful work sets you free”.

This camp, the first one, was originally a single story complex for soldiers from the Polish army. When it became a POW camp they added an extra story and a loft to the buildings, which soon became a concentration camp housing thirty thousand people.

The large kitchens were the first thing we passed.

Now it is a museum with 1.5 plus visitors annually. We were lead through a number of buildings set up as examples of how people had lived and worked as slaves in this camp. We saw the two tons of people’s hair that had been piled up when the camp was freed, ready for sale for factory’s to weave garments from. We also saw cyanide cannisters, shoes, spectacles and pots etc that made the museum.

To get the numbers through we were squeezed into the building with many other groups, hugging the right side of the stairs on the way up as another group struggled past us on the way down.

We visited the Gestapo interrogation and death wall where prisoners were shot in the back of the head after interrogation. It was in the basement of this building where they did the first test on the use of cyanide, killing several hundred people. Electric, instant-death fences prevented people escaping.

We exited through a different gate, the double deadly electric fences still in place.

Last we visited the original gas and cremation block which had been rebuilt as a replica. The original oven doors are displayed there.

Handing in our head sets we got back on the bus and headed to Auschwitz Birkenau a few kms away. This camp was built later and housed around a hundred thousand.

Trains arrived here with 80 people in a carriage. People were separated into groups and many marched straight off to the gas chambers on the pretense of having a shower.

We looked at some of the accommodation, washing and toilet facilities in the women’s quarter of the camp. The bunks were three high with six catering for six people on each level.

          

I was chatting with the guide and she explained she lived only 15 minutes away with her parents who had been in the house for four generations. The house was taken by the Germans during the war but not occupied. Her grandparents, with a family of eleven, stayed with a relation in the old part of town sharing one room. Her great uncle was conscripted to work in a coal mine. He went on leave one day and did not come back. The gestapo tracked him down, took him to Auschwitz 1, put him face to the wall and shot him in the back of the head.

I think it is important to remember that it was not just the Jews that were interred, tortured and murdered here but also many Pols, gypsies, Russian soldiers and more. Apparently it was the Polish prisoners that asked for the place to stand as a reminder.

Back on the bus we headed for the salt mine passing factories that once used the labor from the camps and still operate today .

Arriving at the Wieliczka Salt Mine, our group of 36 went to the front of the queue, were handed head sets and entered the mine, heading down 53 flights of stairs 60m to the first level. This place is amazing. First mined in the 13th century, mining continued right up to 1996 when salt prices made it uneconomic. There are well over 200km of tunnels in the mine and thousands of caverns. Our journey today is a mere 3.6km descending to a depth of 130m.

We headed of through a tunnel, going through chambers where one door opened, we piled in, closed the door and only then could open the next door and continue. Apparently something to do with the ventilation system. We came out into a chamber where some of the equipment used in the mining was on display. Large rope winches, some man and others horse driven, were used to lower logs down for dunnage and shoring, while at the same time bringing the barrel shaped salt blocks up. Mined salt was shaped like this so it could be rolled like a barrel. The fines were brought up in wooden barrels.

The salt walls and ceilings look like grey granite, not bright and white as we were expecting. With brine pools, many large caverns and statues carved from salt this place is quite amazing. Visitors have been coming here since the 1400’s. Nikolas Copernicus is remembered in one of many statues of famous tourists over the centuries. I am not sure if they will be making statues of Steve and I.

We headed down more stairs, both of us impressed by the timber structures holding the caverns up in places.

We came to many more chambers and tunnels, lots with statues. Some of the caverns had been made into chapels.

Arriving at the end of one tunnel and looking over the ballast rail we can see a huge cathedral. The statues and other structures were carved by three men over many years. Even the salt floor had been shaped into tiles. The crystals in the chandeliers were also made of salt.

Not far along was another large chapel where many weddings are held. There is also a restaurant.

Green, clear brine shines in pools. The tallest cavern, at 35m high, has a lift to a deck so one can look down.

Some rocks from the mine on display glow in the dark.

Finally at the bottom we find out why we are in a group of 36. The guide got a bit worried at one stage as we lost a guy from the US for a while.

There is a two storey, four compartment lift that takes nine per compartment, shoulder to shoulder crammed in, that races us back to the surface.

The bus dropped us in the old city just on dusk. We headed to the very attractive, busy square and sampled some local beer before striking the five kms back to the hotel.

Tuesday 25  July 2017

Linda (Louis’ wife) picked me up at 0630 and we headed southeast. As we reached the city limits we had to slow to a crawl to get through the thick smoke. Like in Madagascar, the indigenous people here love lighting fires. As a result the farmers every winter have to burn off fire breaks to stop fires spreading which then adds to the thick haze that hangs over the land.  Quite a number of coal fired power stations also add to this problem. It was not until about four hours later when we arrived at Wakkerstroom that the sky’s became clear.

I met Louis in Sweden nearly three years ago. I am now taking him up on his “if you are ever in South Africa come and pay us a visit” offer. Louis and his partner Mario own a twenty thousand hectare farm called Oudehoutdraai, trading under the name Hunt Essentials.

Arriving around ten, Louis took me for a drive around the edge of part of the property. It is mainly surrounded by a 3m high fence with electric wires on the inside. The farm is mainly a game park where between April and August hunters come in to hunt plains game. To help sustain the business during the off season they have diversified. A thousand fine soiled sheep have their breeding cycles synchronised so around a hundred lamb every month. They process and pack the lamb and sell direct to the market. There are also  2,100 white rabbits that breed like rabbits, their off spring providing a steady income.

A few hundred hectares are being set up with pivot irrigation to increase the lamb output. They mix their own stock food, most of which is home grown.

Dotted around the farm are illegal villages. Originally a worker was allowed to build one house for his family. In recent years they have added tin shacks and had relations move in.

Stock rustling, illegal grazing, theft, fire lighting and crime in general are a major problem here. The police are corrupt and incompetent when it comes to solving crime amongst their own. We stop and chat to another farmer; as we drive away Louis tells me how recently his fence was cut and bricks were being delivered to his land. He went to investigate to find one of the local police there. The bricks were his and he was going to build a house and as he was a policeman there was apparently nothing the farmer could do about it. The farmer later dumped the bricks and a few days later some detectives turned up wanting to arrest him for stock rustling.

At every access point there is a manned guard-house manned by people from outside the district. Apparently locals can’t be employed for this task as they just let their mates in to steal stuff. On two occasions lately guards have been attacked and seriously injured.

Fences are cut so not only can stock be stolen but the locals also run their illegal stock on the land.  We stop at one point as some goats are grazing illegally on the farm. Louis draws his Glock pistol and shoots one. He knows the goats will now be removed. The farm stock is tested disease free, even the 300 plus buffalo are foot and mouth, anthrax and TB free. Stock is quarantined when moving both on and off the farm. Illegal grazing is a big problem as it can bring diseases.

We stop and chat with some military looking guys on the roadside. These guys have been brought in to try and sort out the serious rustling and other crime going on just now.

The local village of Wakkerstroom has around ten thousand residents 600 of which are white. Eighty percent of the rest are unemployed. Unemployment across the country is nearly fifty percent. Crime is out of control. Last year around 52 murders and the same amount of attempted murders were reported each day. The government builds nice little bungalows for these people with power, sewerage and running water. They are given to the occupier.

 

Schooling and health care are also provided free. Standards of education have had to be lowered so people can pass.

Just now the land is brown and dry. When the summer rains come it will turn emerald green.

We call into the Wakkerstroom Country Inn for a beer. They have recently bought this to accommodate additional hunters.

We stop in and look at the breeding buffalo herd, which Louis is very proud of. Bulls are bred from this herd and when fully grown released to roam far and wide on the farm.

We then head up the hill where large mobs of springbok, black wildebeest and common blesbuck are grazing.

In the evening we head across to one of the lodges where Mario (the other partner) is gathered with a bunch of his mates, who have been here hunting for a few days. We had run into these guys a few times during the day as they cruised around with a chilly bin full of ice and splits to add to their whisky and gin – a bunch of hard case good guys continually giving each other a hard time. A cut drum full of embers was used to cook beef Portuguese style on sewers.

We sit around the dining room table and between the banter they tell me of their passion for this great country. They are concerned that they have begun to accept the murder and crime as just part of life. All have had friends murdered. They support the building of houses for the locals but are frustrated by the corruption that is rife throughout the government and civil service. They explain how game ranches such as this have helped bring back a lot of the game from near extinction. They even have 5 white rhino here they have reintroduced in the last few years.

Lying in bed I feel really lucky to have had the opportunity to come and see this magnificent place.

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Wednesday 25 July 2017

It’s another stunning day. I haven’t seen a cloud since we left Madagascar. These are big bold blue skies.

We breakfast in the dining hall adjacent to the house. On the wall there are mounted heads of many of the species running on the land here.

Common reed buck, African bush pig, White springbok, Red hartebeest, Black springbok, Common springbok, Mountain reed buck, Common blesbuck, Black wildebeest.

After breakfast I chat to a few of the staff and enjoy the view in the valley.

 

Three young springbok wander in and feed on the porch. There is lots going on around here. There are over ninety staff employed.

Soon it is time to leave. Louis and Linda insist that I come back for a longer stay one day. Yes I will definitely be back.

Ron, who used to run a local hotel and now helps out on the farm, drives me back via Pretoria where we pick up a chap from Texas who is also heading out today. Around 7pm I am airborne with around 850 others on an Emirates A380 to Dubai. About six seats from the back in economy I was surprised by the comfort and really impressed by the crew. All looked fit cheerful and were eager to assist. What was even more impressive, on the next leg to Frankfurt the crew was exactly the same.

I sat in the Air France lounge waiting for my Air Baltic flight to Tallinn. The flight was delayed until 8.15pm. The guy in the lounge said get to the gate by 7.45pm. I went early and was told I had been bumped from the flight. I tried to find out what to do next from the staff member “I am new and don’t know what I am doing. Please just go away”. I spent the next two hours trying to find someone from Air Baltic with the help of a chap from the information counter. He couldn’t even fold find a phone number for them.

There was no option but to reserve a 900 euro Lufthansa flight for tomorrow morning and get a hotel for the night.

 

Friday 21 July: Sylvia

It was quite sad to wake this morning knowing it was to be our last (at least this visit) at Mombo Trails. Doc was as excited and positive as ever this morning as we headed out. Despite having seen several small groups of female kudu we hadn’t seen any of the magnificently horned males so it was great to come across six of them not far from camp.

We headed North up towards the Moremi Hippo Pool, passing numerous groups of animals along the way. One tiny baby elephant was particularly cute, as was a massive bull elephant who posed beautifully. We drove through large swathes of turpentine grass, taller than the car and eventually reached the waterways leading to the pool. Large groups of red lechwe and numerous water birds created a peaceful scene. We enjoyed another morning tea with the hippos while a couple of large crocs baked in the sun at the far end of the pool and then headed back to the airstrip in time for our 11am pick up and transfer to Vumbura Plains.

Two Robinson 44 helicopters arrived and we piled in, our bags would come later. It was fantastic to fly over the delta and get a real sense of the waterways. Of course we could also see some animals from the air. At one point we flew quite low – about 30m up and it seemed like we were skimming across the tops of the reeds. We headed to a small island and landed near a herd of red lechwe. The pilots surprised us all with glasses of champagne on an island that it is likely no human has ever stood on before. We then hopped back on board for the final five minute flight to Vumbura Plains South.

After lunch – there is so much food here – and the obligatory safety briefing we decided to wander to our rooms and then go for a walk along the boardwalk to the north camp where we had stayed a few years ago. Sometimes though nature has other plans as we experienced an elephant road block between Debbie and Dave’s room and ours. One elephant had broken a pipe on their plunge pool but we all sat out on their deck and enjoyed the experience while we waited for the path to clear enough for us to walk past. Eventually the main path cleared and Joanna and Leonie could go to their tent but the elephants were still around ours. A few minutes later they came back and said the elephants here seemed relaxed enough and we could come to our tent. We arrived and were surrounded – elephants grazing on the bushes all around our tent. One had knocked over our hot water heater but hopefully it will still work. We sat outside on the deck enjoying being so close to such magnificent beasts.

Luckily the elephants had moved away by 3:30pm when it was time to head back to the main area for high tea before heading out for our afternoon drive. The landscape is very different here with the Okavango floodwaters very evident and lots of small, wooded islands. It wasn’t long before we spotted a couple of water buck – very distinctive with the white circles on their butts looking like they have just sat on a freshly painted toilet seat.

Not too much further on we came across five African wild dogs, sleeping in the shade, probably resting up before their evening hunt. Apparently they have pups nearby – we could see that the alpha female was nursing. We decided not to wait for the hunt – there was so much more to see.

We carried on, at times driving through moderately deep water and were completely bemused to see two lionesses up a tree. One was lying almost leopard like and looking quite comfortable. The other looked incredibly klutzy and uncomfortable sort of sitting on a forked branch with her hind legs dangling balancing herself on her front legs. We wondered how she would get down. We could see though that they had a great vantage point for surveying the surrounding area. Eventually the klutzy looking one manoeuvred herself, actually quite gracefully, down from the tree. After a few minutes she climbed back up again and found a much more comfortable looking spot. A troop of baboons came through the area and started their barking warning calls, looking quite agitated. Some even broke small branches off the tree they were sitting in in protest. A bit later the other one climbed down. I had heard about these lionesses the last time I was here but hadn’t seen them climbing. It was certainly an unusual and amusing sight.

After driving through a few more large pools of water we came upon a small female leopard eating the remains of a baby red lechwe. It was starting to smell a little having been out in the sun since she killed it sometime early this morning or yesterday evening. After she had eaten enough she ripped up some of the nearby grass and covered the smelliest bits of the carcass with it to hide the scent from hyenas – it was amazing how much this reduced the smell.

We headed back towards camp with another incredible African sunset setting the sky on fire. As it got darker Ron, our guide here, pulled out a spotlight and started using it to scan the area as we drove through. Other than numerous red lechwe, reedbuck, impala and the odd elephant, we saw a crocodile hunting frogs along the banks of one of the waterways and a porcupine scuttling between some trees.

Back in camp we enjoyed drinks around the fire under a clear, starlit sky while the painted reed frogs tinkled merrily in the reeds (one of the sounds I associate so clearly with this place) and the hippos grunted and grumbled while meandering along the edge of the water grazing.

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Saturday 22 July 2017: Roger

We head out at seven am. Not far down the track we come across the wild dogs we had seen last night. Four of them are out hunting, it looks like the alpha female must have stayed with the cubs. We follow them back and forth through the scrub as they look for prey. Suddenly it’s all on, an impala the target. Ron, our guide, accelerates the landrover bouncing us at speed across the rough ground. A young bull elephant in musth we had spotted earler with, as Ron put it, “his fifth leg extended” gets a fright and charges alongside us. It’s all over pretty quick as the impala gets away.

We leave the dogs and head north into an area covered in mopane trees, which the elephants keep short by deliberately eating the tops, allowing a good supply of low level feed for their young.

First we spot a lion in waiting as his brother has the on-heat female in his company a few meters away. With a bit of luck the brother will doze off and the female will sneak away to give this guy a turn.

A large flock of vultures in the distance reveals the remains of a young giraffe, which must have died of natural causes as it had not been ripped apart by hyenas.

We drove on stopping by a pond for a brew as a few wildebeest graze near by. On the grassy plains nearby we spotted a heard of sable. Now nearly extinct, the hair from these was, for many years, used for making paint brushes. They were also hunted for their magnificent horns. These are another animal where both sexes grow horns.

A herd of elephants wandered past on their way to a watering hole. We drove over watching them refill. As they moved off a young female stomped her foot several times in the soft ground creating a mud bath. She proceeded to suck up and spray mud over herself until a larger one shoved her out of the way. This went on with even a young one having a go, spraying most of the mud around rather than on herself.

A couple of young warthogs looked on as we drove on.

We saw several more stunning birds

 Lilac breasted roller 

Coppery-tailed coucal

Heading back to camp we were ambushed by a Burbery bush lunch. We sat overlooking the wetlands while dining and drinking champagne.

Arriving back at the camp with its amazing views over the marshes, we were again barred from returning to our tents, this time by a bull elephant who made a false charge at Deb and Dave as they walked down the boardwalk to their tent. We withdrew to the dining area until he moved on.

At four we headed out again coming across a heard of some 600 buffalo grazing as they moved through the vegetation. Big bulls eyed us up as we looked on. Calves that become weak and linger at the back of the mob become lion tucker. Ox-peckers feed on the ticks and other insects that hitch a ride. Thousands of kilometres of buffalo fences have been built across Botswana to keep them away from farmed livestock as they carry both foot and mouth disease and anthrax.

We arrived at some wetlands and boarded mekoros to be poled through the still waters as the sun set.

  

Driving back to the camp in the dark Ron flashed his spotlight around looking for the red eyes of nocturnal predators.

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Sunday 23 July: Sylvia

There was much excitement in camp this morning with all the guests sharing stories of the wonderful noises they had heard during the night. Apparently two bull hippos had a major altercation right near the camp and the male lions we had seen the other day were doing their usual nocturnal jaunt, roaring and marking their territory. I am not sure whether it was the hot sun, the long days catching up on me or the two G&T’s Roger plied me with (on top of champagne at lunch) but I slept soundly through it all.

We bundled up and headed out into the cool morning air and almost immediately came across a lone hippo walking down the road heading back to the water. They spend the nights grazing on land but are usually back in the water by the time we head out so it was great to see him ambling along.

It was definitely cooler this morning and we appreciated the wonderful hot water bottles we’ve had every morning to warm us on the drive even more than usual. The animals must have been feeling the cold too and been hiding in the bushes for warmth as there were very few about at first. The wild dogs were huddled in a heap acting as hot water bottles for each other. We did pass a few small, solitary steenbok hiding in the bushes.

Suddenly we spotted a familiar shape, reflected in a water hole – a maned, male lion, this one particularly blonde, raising his head to scan the surrounding area. Not too far away a male and a female were busy mating. He was waiting for the male to get tired so he could take over. Lion mating is quite a process. They mate over a period of several days at first every few minutes with the intervals between drawing out as they tire. Every now and then there may be a fight as another male from the pride comes in to take over. The actual mating itself lasts only a few seconds accompanied by a few grunts and a fair bit of the male biting the female on the shoulder. We were all well entertained by Roger’s running commentary! After one session the female rolled over with a roar and gave the male a good swat – “Jesus Christ! don’t get any ideas Sylvia”. There was at least a little tenderness between sessions as the male licked the female gently on the back a few times. At one point Dave declared “Roger James – relationship expert” based on the continuing amusing commentary.

This was more than could be said for the baboons we saw later in the morning. The troop were crossing a bridge and leaping through the shallow water to find a new spot to spend the day. One female had stopped at the end of the bridge and the male walked straight up to her, did his business with a fair bit of grunting and left. Again much hilarity and interesting commentary on board our vehicle.

We also found the small female leopard we had seen the other night with a kill, this time resting quite comfortably up a tall tree, and the large herd of buffalo we saw yesterday.

During our tea break Ron whipped out some maps, stuck them to the side of the vehicle and proceeded to explain the geography of the area to us. This delta is incredible with the water taking some six months to arrive here from Angola, eventually draining away into the Kalahari sand.

It was nice to get back into camp a bit earlier today, arriving about midday. Time for lunch, a quick walk down to North camp and back to stretch the legs and still time for a nice rest before the afternoon activities. Every other time I have been here this has been standard but is the first time all trip we’ve managed a really good midday siesta.

This afternoon things really went to the dogs – the wild ones that is. Very shortly after leaving camp we came across the pack of four on a hunt. The alpha female must have stayed behind with the pups. We bounced and twisted as we chased them through the bush, sometimes even sloshing through water. They travelled quite a long way but we eventually lost them in some thick bush.

We made our way slowly back to camp passing several elephants and a number of birds. As we got to the den area we saw the alpha female keeping watch and then had a real treat as the four very cute pups, now about 2 months old, came out to play. The mother kept chasing them back to the den, even nipping them a couple of times but every time she turned her back and headed out to keep watch they followed after her, running straight back to the den whenever she turned her head – just like naughty children everywhere.

  

We had arranged with Ron to have an earlier dinner and then head out for a night drive as this would be our last night here. We bounced along through the cold and dark and saw a few nocturnal animals like spring hares (a kangaroo-like rodent hopping along), an african wild cat, a civet, a scops owlet and a side-striped jackal. We also saw reedbuck, steenbok, elephants etc. as we got closer to camp we smelled the distinctive odour of buffalo and saw numerous green eyes glowing they way they do in the movies as we passed through the middle of the large herd we had seen earlier in the day.

Back in camp we were greeted with a cacophony of groans, moans and all manner of resonating sounds from a couple of mating hippos. Unlike the  and lions we had seen mating earlier in the day where it was all over in seconds, this went on for at least 30 minutes. It must have been mating day in the bush.

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Monday 24 July: Sylvia

We packed our bags and headed out for our last game drive. It was fairly quiet at first as we made our way through the cold, revisiting the buffalo and sable we had seen previously. Then as we were heading towards the airstrip we came across a female leopard and her two cubs. The cubs, about 6 months old, had been spotted up a tree and on closer inspection the mother was found with a kill – most likely a reed buck – hidden deep within a nearby bush. We were entertained by their antics for some time before heading for the airstrip for our flight first to Maun and then on the Johannesburg. From there some continued on to NZ, Leonie headed to Tanzania, Roger headed off to meet up with a mate, Louie, who has a farm about three hours north and I headed back to Singapore for work.

Monday 17 July: Sylvia

It was great to catch up with my sister, Debbie, her husband, Dave, my niece, Joanna and my stepmum, Leonie, when we arrived in Johannesburg yesterday evening. After a few hassles – somehow I had booked and paid for 7 rooms instead of 3 – we enjoyed reconnecting over G&T’s and a snack.

This morning we met again for a leisurely (read very slow service) breakfast before walking the 50m or so across the road to check in for our Air Botswana flight to Maun. Once there we transferred to a Cessna Caravan for a quick flight across the Okavango Delta to our home for the next four days, Mombo camp. This has to be one of my favourite places in the world with impeccable service and outstanding wildlife. Wilderness Safaris have run the concession in this area for many years and most animals are completely used to the vehicles so we get to watch them up close acting completely naturally.

The old Mombo camp, where I have stayed several times before, is being completely rebuilt so this time we are at Mombo Trails, a temporary camp set up in the style of traditional old safari camps – no raised walkways, but fabulous tents and central areas all overlooking the flood plains with numerous plains game wandering around. We were met at the airstrip by our guide, Doc, and headed straight out for our game drive as no night drives are allowed in this area. Roger, Debbie, Dave and I have all experienced this before but for Joanna and Leonie it was all new. None of us were disappointed. We had already seen several elephants and giraffe from the air and almost around the first corner we came across a large dazzle of zebra. Then numerous giraffe as well as warthog, impala and several elephants.

We had heard there was a mother cheetah with three cubs in the area that had made a kill in the morning so we headed out to look for them. As we got nearer the white-backed vultures started to swoop in – it looked like the cats were on the move. The reason soon became clear as we rounded a corner to see two large spotted hyena squabbling over what was left of the remains. They had obviously scared the cheetah away. But not far, we soon found them and spent some time following them in the glorious African sunset as they looked for a safe place to spend the night.

It was nearly dark as we headed back to camp, when we saw some more hyenas definitely on a mission. Then we heard the distinctive cries of hyenas in action and bounced off through the bush, ending up surrounded by hyenas as they crunched and cracked their way through a fresh impala carcass. We are not sure who did the killing, them or someone else, but they certainly made short work of the meal.

Arriving back in camp we were greeted with fresh G&T’s and then treated to some traditional song and dance before enjoying a fabulous dinner.

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Tuesday 18 July 2017: Roger

At 6.30 we were were escorted to breakfast by our guide Doc. There are a number of ‘torch only armed’ security guards stationed along the track. In the tent there is a radio and an aerosol can with a horn on it to call for help should a friendly lion wander in to stay the night. Will, our table waiter, told us that recently an old deaf guy mistook this for mosquito spray. Guards and guides came running to the rescue. It’s not unusual to see lion foot prints in the sandy track leasing to the dining tent.

After breakfast we boarded the land-cruser heading east into the rising sun.

Only a few minutes from camp we run into a pretty calm bunch of elephants grazing on a rather thorny tree. A black backed jackal moved through the grass in the background. The elephant take only part of the bush and then move on to let the bush recover.

Just down the road we run into the Matata pride. The boss lion had been given a hiding the previous day by his brother, Stumpy, in order to steal a lioness from him. This pride lies around relaxing and sleeping only meters from us.

The car battery dies while we are in the middle of the pride, another vehicle gives us a push start and we head away from the pride. A vehicle with a new battery turns up and a change is made. Doc checks behind a bush so Debbie, escorted by Dave, could relieve herself. Just then a bunch of elephants come strolling through the bush; Sylvia points them out to Doc, who is busy helping with the battery. “Don’t worry, they’re my friends” he says.

We drive around and come across Stumpy (end of tail was removed by croc), who is giving his attention to his new conquest while two others try to sleep. Elephants wander past the lions not bothered by there presence.

 

We drive around looking at various animals that roam the delta. Impala,so well groomed with nice neat lines and colours, are in large and small mobs. The batchelor males hanging out together. I wonder what prompted Chev to come up with the name impala for such a large cumbersome car.

 

We see warthogs in a scuffle.

Tsessebee hang out in the shade.

Towers of giraffes wandered around often looking over tall bushes to watch what we were doing, their gait awkward as their right legs and then the left move together, giving the impression they are about to topple over.

We arrived back at the camp, passing a pond that was a few days ago a stream. Marabou storks and white pelican congregated to consume the trapped fish.

As we ate a lavish lunch hundreds of animals grazed on the grassy plains in front of the camp. After lunch we headed north along the east side of the plains by the camp, traveling alongside a river full of Nile crocodile, some sunbathing on the banks.

A large variety of game grazes on the plains, several in each group on alert for predators.

A red lechwe buck stands on an island debating the moment to cross in case a large crock is lying in wait.

Baboons hang out in the surrounding trees, young ones knocking off fruit for the older ones to pick up on the ground. Young ones ride on their mother’s backs like cowboys with high-backed saddles.

A pied kingfisher hovers above the water before adopting a strange shape to make a vertical dive on an unsuspecting fish.

Birds of prey soar overhead seeking their targets.

A magpie shrike darts from tree to tree feeding on insects

We can see our camp from the flats, the fancy tents standing out on the bush edge.

We get a call that Pula, a female leopard’s tracks have been spotted nearby. Not far south we spot the tracks on the sandy road. Driving through the scrub we find her chewing on a recently caught impala. She is totally oblivious to the vehicle, not even lifting her head to look as we pull up three meters away to watch her tear apart her prey. Soon she lifts her head and begins to drag the impala carcass towards a tree.

As the light fades, hyenas appear from the scrub and the leopard slinks off into the bush, leaving her catch to them. As the sun sets there is the sound of cracking and crunching as the hyenas consume the carcass bones and all. A marabou stalk watches over the proceedings as we drive back to the camp for dinner.

 

As we dine we hear lions making a kill a few hundred meters from the camp. This is soon replaced by the sound of hyenas laughing as they call the pack to take the prey from the lions. The guards are on full alert as we are escorted back to our tents. Apparently it works like this. If they spot the red eyes of a lion keep the light on its eyes so its night vision is blinded and it will retreat into the darkness. These guys seem to know what they are about as no one has been injured in these camps by wild game in the past twenty plus years.

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Wednesday 19 July: Sylvia

It was not quite so cold this morning as we headed back out for another adventure. We headed north out of the camp and had only gone a few metres when we came across a small group of kudu and impala running and leaping over a termite mound. With the sun rising behind them they looked quite spectacular – as Debbie put it, “it almost looks like the cow jumping over the moon!”

We also spotted a tiny baby giraffe and, not far away, a lone hyena sniffing out the area as he headed home to sleep for the day, passing mere inches from the front of the land cruiser on his way.

Around the corner was a huge herd of zebra with the odd impala scattered in for good measure. As we continued we spotted large dust clouds, which on closer inspection turned out to be huge flocks of red-billed quelea flying in formation as they fed on seeds from the ground. They were a truly impressive sight, particularly with the sun catching them and made a fairly impressive sound as well.

Next we stopped to watch a large troop of baboon playing and grooming each other, small ones riding piggy-back on their mothers. They started making their distinctive, barking alarm calls and we spotted the Moporota pride, a very healthy looking pride of six female and one stunning male lion and two cubs, wandering across the flood plain looking for somewhere to settle down for the day. The male, named Bankara which means big, is a particularly impressive specimen with a huge, thick mane and no scars on his face. They were sleeping in the sun and we were hoping to find rhino or cheetah so we didn’t linger too long.

We drove on passing a number of the usual suspects and then stopped to enjoy morning tea beside a hippo pool, to a chorus of wonderful grunts and groans. It is always great to stretch our legs and get off the vehicle for a bit. The hippo like to grunt and yawn and show us how big and menacing they are. There was also a lot of wonderful bird life by the pool, including my favourite, the malachite kingfisher, and some saddle-billed storks.

We decided to go and check out the cheetah and cubs we had seen a few days ago and as they were up and hunting spent some time following them. The cubs were very cute, pouncing on each other and playing, just like you would expect kittens to. As it got later Doc said that they had set up a surprise bush lunch for us but as the cheetah were still hunting he suggested we could ask them to bring the lunch to us instead. We all agreed and about 45 minutes later, just when the cheetah were laying down for a rest, Sepho, another guide, showed up with a delicious lunch which we ate in the shade of a large acacia tree.

We stayed with the cheetah all afternoon but unfortunately there was very little prey around. Mombo is an amazing place. There are usually impala around every corner but this day they were all in hiding. The poor cheetah had to go to bed hungry.

As it got dark we headed back towards camp, enjoying another magnificent sunset and spotting a side-striped jackal along the way. As we rounded a bend Doc stopped the vehicle and we were all thrilled to spot a black rhino – it was nearly dark but still great to see before it turned around and headed back to the bush.

Back at camp we enjoyed another fantastic meal, with the sounds of the bush resonating in the background – lions roaring, baboon barking and … just as our meal was finishing we heard, very close to camp, hyena squabbling, which could only mean one thing – fresh meat. Yompe, one of the other guides headed out in the land rover and came back to report that they were fighting over an impala – we are not sure if they killed it or stole it off the lions we had heard. Needless to say, there was no way Debbie was walking to the tent so we all piled on the back of a golf cart and were driven to our rooms in style.

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Thursday 20 July 2017: Roger

We head out under the clear blue sky. It’s winter here which means it never rains; we haven’t even seen a cloud. Just outside the camp we come across a few lions from the maporota pride we had seen yesterday. We spot the male heading down the plains to collect his pride as they were too close to the border of another pride. The somewhat disobedient females took a while to obey before eventually heading north.

We headed south in search of the wild dogs. Along the way we stopped by a large baobab tree. Sylvia mentions the large baobab tree we had seen in the Kalahari Desert a couple of years ago. Doc said that was the area where he was brought up. Unfortunately the tree has now fallen down. He and his brother used to put wooden spikes in and climb and play in the top, much to the concern of his parents – not surprisingly as it was 40 odd meters high. One night when his father was away at the markets his uncle took them to the tree to let them hear the ghost that lived in the tree. They were laughing in disbelief until when approaching the tree a voice came out of the tree “I am the ghost of the tree! If you children ever come and climb me again something really bad will happen to you” In spite of being ridiculed at school they never climbed the tree again. It was not until they were in there twenties that their father finally owned up to being the ghost that night.

Moving on we spotted a few different birds. A “go-away” bird or grey lowry, alerts game of approaching danger.

Impala show off their jumping skills.

Sand grouse blend into the grass to avoid the birds of prey.

A swallow-tailed bee-eater takes flight as we pass.

Bateleur and African Hawk-eagles soar overhead looking for prey

As we head south to the dogs we run across what appears to be a giraffe kindergarten. About eight young giraffe have been left with a couple of adults while the others have gone off to feed.

A little further down the track we run across Stumpy, a large bull elephant. Yes, you guessed it, a crocodile got the end of his tail. I had visions of a croc flying through the air with the end of a tail streaming from its mouth.

Doc stops in Stumpy’s path; he walks almost right up to the vehicle before stepping back and walking around. “Don’t worry” says Doc, “he is my friend”. He then goes on to explain how hunted elephants have been known to beat people to death with a stick and then bury or throw logs on top of them. Stumpy, clearly quite relaxed around us and about 50 years old, has a trainee teenager about 14 with him teaching him the trade. He continues feeding as though we are not even there as do the rest of the animals around here. He reaches high into the tree, stripping the leaves from selected branches, somehow holding them and placing them into his mouth spilling few. His large molars are visible as he reaches up.

A little further down the track two teenage bulls shield and direct their little sister towards their mum as we approach. She takes a drink as mum looks at us, ears flapping. Doc stops the vehicle but leaves the engine running. Normally he switches it off so we can take better pictures. These ones are not so relaxed. Her trunk rises with a loud trumpet and we drive slowly off finding the rest of the family just around the corner on the other side of the track. A young bull trumpets as we drive on. I think our invisibility shield must have dropped on that occasion.

We arrive at the lair where the wild dogs are hiding the pups. The 17 or so dogs are lying around on sentry duty, protecting the area. They soon the get up and become alert as one of the pups appears briefly outside the hole. There is an alpha father and mother; the rest of the pack are just in support for the raising of the pups.

We head up a different track on the way home, barred at the river crossing as a bull elephant takes in his daily intake of around 200 litres of water. This is quite a long process as he blows bubbles at the end to clean his trunk and washes out his mouth before curling his trunk around his tusks as he moves away just to let us know who is in charge. A vehicle from another camp who has also been waiting crosses towards us.

Soon we stop at a pond occupied by a lone loser hippo, a male that has lost and been driven from the pod by a tougher male.

On the way back to camp we see more came and bird life.

A large male ostrich grazes the plains while mum sits on the eggs. They swap over at night, when his black feathers will provide better camouflage.

A kori bustard, the national bird, is soon spotted. Now protected, these are the world’s heaviest flying bird, easily hunted as they need a runway to take off. 

We arrive back late again for lunch. Doc is far more interested in showing us stuff than watching the clock – he is a great guide.

After lunch we head south west spotting first banded mongoose, then some vervet monkeys.

We then get a call that Blue-eyes, a large male leopard is hunting nearby. As we approach he is in full hunting mode, crouched by a termite mound. Less than a hundred-metres away a group of impala stand under a tree separated only by some thick scrub. As Blue-eyes starts his stalk a go-away bird sparks up as do some helmeted guinea fowl perched in a tree above.

Their warning calls alert the impala who snort and retreat. Blue-eyes moves back and lays on the termite mound.

Suddenly he is alert as a family of warthogs return to their burrow on the other side of the mound. Blue-eyes leaps across trying to take a young one. There is a cloud of dust but no catch. A confused young warthog appears in front of us looking shocked.

After the failed attack Blue-eyes lay around the mound for a while before moving south’ marking his territory along the way. As he passed the odd snorting impala along the way he would raise his tail to let them know he was not hunting just now.

Tuesday 11 July 2017: Sylvia

I am somewhat conflicted staying in this place. Even more so than in many others I feel a burden of privilege. The locals live in small villages dotted around the area and earn approximately US$1 per day working in the fields or in the sisal factory. They live as subsistence farmers, the majority without electricity and none with running or clean water, growing crops along the riverside. The young boys look after the goats or zebu, herding them along the roads during the day. The young girls often carry water or other loads on their heads. Whilst they seem happy and the kids come running to smile, wave and say hello or bye-bye and get their photos taken as we drive through the villages I am acutely aware of the differences in our lives as I watch them fetching water from the river – the same place they bathe and do their laundry and wash their cows and …. I wonder what they must think of us as we sit on our kayaks and get pulled across the river by strong young men – these strange white people who can’t even walk across the river on their own.

We slept well last night in our comfortable  tent and after a light breakfast headed off with Alberto past the sisal factory (you can’t look inside anymore as they got too many complaints about the working conditions!!!) and through the sisal fields back to the river, where we crossed over to a different sacred forest – this time an ancient rather than current burial ground and a canopy or gallery forest rather than a spiny one.

 

The forest is really interesting, largely a mix of acacia and tamarind trees with several large banyan trees and vines. Our goal this morning was to find the two species of diurnal lemur endemic in this area, the famous ring-tailed lemur and veraux sifaka, otherwise known as the dancing lemur because they do not walk on the ground but kind of leap sideways.

We were not long in the forest when we came across our first group of ring-tailed lemurs. These not-shy animals live in groups of twenty-thirty and spend 40% of their time foraging on the ground. They are really beautiful with their striped tails and large eyes. We saw several groups during the morning including some munching happily on cactus leaves, which they break off and hold in their hands to eat.

We also saw several much smaller groups of veraux sifaka, including a couple on the ground who treated us with a fantastic display of their dancing. This is apparently quite unusual at this time of the year as they tend to prefer to stay up in the trees more until the middle of winter. They are striking white animals with black faces and hands.

In what seemed like no time it was time to leave the sacred forest – probably just as well as Roger struggled to remember not to point and didn’t really want to have to sacrifice a zebu as atonement. It was a short thirty minute drive back to camp, passing through villages of waving, smiling children, and passing herds of goats, zebu and even turkeys.

 

We enjoyed another delicious lunch (the food here is incredibly good – as is the service, a very pleasant change after Andisibe) outside under three towering acacia trees. We were joined by a well-travelled Columbian family and enjoyed sharing stories of our different travels.

As we rested during the afternoon we could hear the children laughing and splashing in the river nearby. At one point a large group of kids came past fishing for the tiny fish in the river using old mosquito nets. There are heaps of kids everywhere here – they marry young, often around 15/16 and will start having children straight away. Apparently many of the marriages are arranged. The divorce rate is high and polygamy is still practised in some areas of the country.

Later in the afternoon we headed back out with Alberto to visit a community spiny forest. I remain quite intrigued by this unique and unusual forest with its eleven species of octopus trees and various different species of euphorbia. I fear for its future though – we see a few large octopus trees that are apparently about 80 years old. They are about the right size for the locals to cut down to make planks to build their houses – unfortunately the houses only last 6-7 years before the termites get them – there is definitely something wrong with this equation.

We watched a family of veraux sifaka bed themselves down in a prickly octopus tree for the evening and as it got dark searched for the three species of nocturnal lemur found here – not so successful this time; we only spied a couple of sportive lemurs way in the distance, eyes shining brightly in the torchlight. The two species of mouse lemurs proved to be elusive.

 

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Wednesday 12 July 2017: Roger

At 8am we are back in the Landrover heading out the rough track to the spiny forest we visited last night. Incidentally the only vehicles that work in this country are Landrovers or Toyotas . Theo told us at dinner on the first night that they brought some Nissans but after just eighteen months they were wrecked.

A bunch of kids were taking the family goats out for their daily feed. I jumped out to take a photo. The kids lined up to excitedly to get the picture taken. With excitement they looked at the back of the camera jabbering away and pointing at each other.

The track is lined with large cactus plants beyond which are paddocks, the cactus serving as an impregnable fence.

Arriving at the start point there is a shack housing a large family. Several kms from the river, from which water has to be carried, the grubby kids and a few turkeys gather around to have their pictures taken.

Heading into the spiny non sacred forest we spot a dancing (veraux sifaka) lemur with a baby in her lap high up in a spiky octopus tree.

Others are feeding in nearby trees leaping several meters from meal to meal, landing feet first, their tough feet oblivious to the sharp spines.

This forest is definitely not pretty but interesting with its eleven varieties of octopus and other spiky trees. Apart from a couple of rare, poisonous spiders there are no dangerous animals in Madagascar; even the snakes (mainly constrictors) won’t kill you.

A little further down the track two lemurs that we saw last night have been joined by a third still sleeping on the same branch.

Next stop was the main village on the river bank. We dismounted checking out the local solar power plant and the market area. People come here on Thursdays and Saturdays to sell their produce.

We stop in at a local family home walled off by a palisade fence. The main house is being attacked by termites. Interestingly these houses or huts are made from octopus trees which at felling time are eighty years old. They need to be replaced every seven years, probably part of the reason for the massive deforestation that has taken place in the country over the past two thousand years. This small compound contains in the big hut grandparents and parents, in the smaller huts the children and their children.

Each family has four or five children here as a form of both labour and superannuation as the children have to take care of elderly parents. A hint maybe to my daughters “Victoria and Kirstie”. The kids gather around eagerly to have their picture taken. One young boy about 10 is wearing a long baggy t-shirt which he is holding away from his body. Tt turns out the poor little bugger has just been circumcised; a tradition here for ten year olds.

The village of about a thousand people has a primary and high school. There is a mayor’s office and aid station. Lots of people are gathered around the mayor’s office. A group of aid workers sit on the side of the road giving out money to mums with kids. They used to give out milk powder and baby food but the mums used to sell it to get money so now they just give money.

A visit to another not so fortunate family reveals tatami type mats on the floor, black with dirt. They sit proudly on the porch as I take their picture.

At the centre of town is the main shopping area with produce and second hand clothing for sale. A girl pumps water at the village well as dozens of people wander about buying their daily provisions. Lots of people gather to get their pictures taken smiling and pointing with excitement as they see themselves on the camera screen. The road through the village is concrete and there is street lighting; one building has a satellite dish and the odd house electric lights.

The woman here all have great postures, many one sees away from the village have a baby strapped to their back and a large load on their head moving as though they are unladen.

There are many little stalls at the front of houses where people prepare and sell food and other produce.

Later in the afternoon we took a drive out to a bunch of Baobab trees. The little mobile bar had been set up for us to enjoy a G&T while we watched the sun go down.

  

After the sun had set we hear the beat of a drum and three spear wielding warriors appear from the the dark, followed by a bunch of women. The entertained us with some custom dances.

 

Drinks over, we headed back to Mandrare River Camp for dinner with a great  family from Colombia. Theo and Zizi also joined us. Marcela, her husband-to-be-one-day Max, her son Thomas and brother Mauricio are passing through on their way to Kenya. We had a great time with them over both lunches and dinners.

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Friday 14 July 2017: Roger

At 0615 we were picked up from the Maison Gallieni Hotel and driven across town to the office of the air charter company. Even at that time there were lots of people about. Apparently after 7am the city becomes gridlocked.

Around 8am we were driven the short distance to the airport where we boarded a Piper Aero 28, soon airborne and heading north 400 nautical miles to Antsiranana. The first part of the journey there are lots of rice fields terraced into the hills. An hour or so north we strike rolling country with no sign of tracks or roads.

In spite of there being no sign of life larger areas have been burnt off as though encouraging new grass growth for stock; some parts are still burning. We were unable to establish if they actually run stock out here. Another person said the burning happens because they have always done it. Most of the trees near inhabitated areas have been felled to make charcoal with which they cook.

In some areas up north an NGO has planted large areas of fast growing eucalyptus trees to supply fuel and try to save what few few indigenous trees that remain. With a mortality rate amongst children exceeding 12 percent (interestingly our last make-it-up-as-you-go guide told us it was under 1%) some electricity, water and sanitation would certainly not just save what trees are left but dramatically improve the health of the population.

Many large rivers run both east and west, most with small villages dotted along their banks servicing the rice fields.

There are no signs of roads or tracks – I presume they carry their crops to the east or west many miles to a track or road. There are only two actual roads in the north, one on each side of the island. Apparently the one on the east is not negotiable in places.

Three and a half hours later we come into land with the pilot muttering and cursing as he fights the rough air into a 30 plus knot head wind. We are picked up by our guide and a driver and head south down the main road. By the state of it I would be surprised if any money has been spent on it since the French left.

We often drive with one wheel off the road or on the other side to avoid the huge ruts and pot holes. The road is lined with small villages consisting of small shacks, many made of wood, others of rusting corrugated iron. They are surrounded by dirt and rubbish, the people look dirty and few look happy.

People sit by their roadside stalls selling whatever they can including plastic bottles are full of spices and herbs.

In places woman sit in the field threshing the rice by hand. It is harvested by hand and stacked in piles in the paddock to dry.

From planting to harvesting it takes two months. If there is a good water supply several crops can be harvested in a year. Zebu are used to cultivate the ground.

It’s hard to know what has happened here. It’s almost like time has stood still for the last two thousand years.  They live to exist; there is no want to to improve living standards. They don’t have power or running water, they still go and shit in the paddock, they are washing clothes in a muddy puddle.

Talking later to Herve who owns the lovely place we stayed, he explained that the people around here are really lazy and do just enough to survive. The men sit around most of the day chewing Katy, a kind of drug in a tree leaf it is supposed to make them strong and energised.

We traveled south for nearly an hour, eventually turning up a track made of red clay.  After 16kms of ruts and bumps we arrived at the Red Tsingy. This is a large washout that has exposed these Tsingy made up of a combination of laterite and other minerals.

We head back north passing again the villages. Bush taxis are the main form of public transport here. The cram everything they can in and on the vehicle.

We turn west and head up another rough, but sealed in places, road leading to the town of Joffreville, once an immaculate French military leave centre, now a run down shambles to blend in with the way the live around here. We arrive at The Litchi Tree hotel.

Run by Herve, who moved here from France 12 years ago and bought what was once the French commander’s house left to rack and ruin. He did a marvellous job of restoring it, even building his own furniture, and now with the help of Madiba, his eight year old adopted daughter runs by far the best accomodation we have experienced here.

 

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Saturday 15 July: Sylvia

After a delicious breakfast served by our French host (the best pain au chocolat I’ve had outside of France) we were picked up for the short drive to Amber Mountain Forest Park. This is said to be primary forest but there are a large number of introduced species and in places the trees are planted in straight rows. It is stunning forest nonetheless.

We stopped along the way for our guide to point out some of the 1100 species of medicinal plants here. At one point she brought over a distinctive purple flower and tried in broken English to explain “mmmm it is kind of mmmm like a particular mmm organ of a woman”. From the glint in Roger’s eye I don’t think he needed the explanation. Apparently it is very good for all sorts of women’s problems and also for high blood pressure.

A short 400m walk took us down to a green lake, which is the main source of water for the people of Diego-Suarez.

We then started our very slow stroll through the forest, searching for chameleons and lemurs. We spotted a couple of groups of ruffed lemur eating wild lemons but the chameleons were remaining elusive.

We also passed two different waterfalls, the second a sacred one where the Malagasy come to ask favours of their ancestors, leaving rice, honey, alcohol and cash.

At the picnic area we finally found four different species of chameleon. One, the smallest chameleon in the world, lives covered in pine needles at the base of trees. Another was flattened against the bark and incredibly well camouflaged.

While we were eating lunch a curious mongoose came to check us out.

After lunch we headed back to Joffreville and spent some time wandering around the now dilapidated town. At one stage this used to be a favourite holiday spot for the French military as being on the hill it was cooler than Diego-Suarez, where they were based. After the French left in 1966 it has fallen into a state of disrepair. It is amazing that the Malagasy rather than move into the buildings and maintain them have let them go to ruin. Some are still in use by the Madagascar military but all in a very run-down state. Only the odd one or two has been maintained and is now in use as a hotel.

Young men sit around chewing the local drug of choice, katy, a green leaf grown locally, which is said to make them stronger.

In a small local market women sit selling rice, fruits, vegetables and various varieties of dried seafood. Chickens and ducks, many followed by their young wander around the town, often taking their lives in their hands as they run across the road in front of oncoming traffic. I think the “why did the chicken cross the road” jokes might have been invented here.

 

In one area is a large dilapidated multi-storey shell of a building that was apparently funded by the North Koreans and was once the teacher training institute but was damaged during a cyclone in the 90’s and was never repaired. One smaller building is still in use as a primary school but looks nearly as derelict.

It is hard to fathom that people here do not seem to want to improve their lives. Both here in the north and down south the guides commented on the locals lack of interest in education and in following suggestions from NGO’s to improve their fishing or farming methods. Somehow they seem content despite their lack of what we would consider to be basic necessities like power and running water. I am conscious of trying not to judge but struggle to understand.

We returned to the Litchi Tree and enjoyed a G&T (or in Roger’s case two) sitting out on the verandah with views over Diego-Suarez and the bay. With six guest rooms, this boutique hotel boasts an impressive bar and Herve cooks a mean meal. Eight years ago he adopted Madiba, a local baby, when she as an hour old. He now home-schools her and during the off season they travel to different parts of the world. She is a real delight and speaks excellent French and English. She seems to relish serving in the restaurant and showing us to our room, always with a beautiful smile. She and I played catch while Roger and Herve discussed the history of the country.

Later, after dinner, she showed us some of her very detailed drawings of the places they have visited. She is a charming and talented young girl and we couldn’t help reflecting on how different her life could have been.

On reflection I think our time in this area has been the opposite of our time in Andasibe. There the overall experience was outstanding but the hotel poor and here I would say the experience has been pretty average but the hotel outstanding. Mandrare River in the south seemed to get it pretty right on both counts.

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Sunday 16 July 2017: Roger

Our guide and driver are waiting for us at seven in the trusty Toyota Landcruiser. Engine warning light still lit up as it has been for the past two days, we speed off down the road heading back to the airport. Chickens dive in all directions ,almost but not quite collected by the vehicles along the way. I am sure not even chickens know what their infatuation with the road is.

Alfa our pilot is waiting, soon airborne we head south, but much further west this time, revealing, in places, some quite rugged country.

There is the odd valley full of quite large villages surrounded by fields. This land must be like a sponge absorbing the water from the monsoon season and slowly releasing it over the dry season. Tracks, not roads, lead to these places.

In a country that is rated one of the poorest in the world, where 80% of the population have no power, water or proper sanitation but the prime minister has his own private jet and politicians become wealthy by being politicians, corruption is rife. Since independence in 1966 the population has grown from four to twenty three million. It makes one wonder what the future will hold. Will it be the same in a thousand years?

Saturday 8 July 2017: Roger

Landing in Johannesburg around 8am we waited for nearly an hour to get through security and passport control in spite of just being in transit. Just after 10am we boarded the small AVRO RJ85 four-engined jet for a comfortable flight to Antananarivo.

Madagascar was apparently first inhabited around two thousand years ago by people from Indonesia then partially colonised by the British in 1810. In the 1880’s it was handed to the French, who had to fight the then king, eventually fully taking over in 1896. In 1960 independence was gained from France. The population at independence was 5 million; it’s now 26 million. As our guide Njaka put it, there is not much entertainment here!

Our guide and a driver picked us up at the airport in a Toyota Landcruiser for the 150km, 4-hour drive to Andasibie. The first hour was through and around Antananarivo. On each side of the road are rice fields; in places these are also used to harvest bricks from. Thousand of grey mud-bricks lay in the fields drying in the sun. Like I had previously seen in parts of Africa they then lay a fire and build a kiln of bricks around it. The fire burns for around five days at the end of which they have baked orange bricks ready for sale.

We passed through the shanty town where innovation is at its best; cars are being repaired on the roadside held up by rocks. There is just about everything one could buy in a large Walmart spread out along the side of the road. Fit looking men pull handcarts along the road, some at a steady trot. The heavier ones have a couple of extra blokes at the back pushing.

The roads are congested. In one area dozens of large trucks are parked up waiting for 8pm when they are allowed to enter the city centre to deliver their goods.

Most houses in the city have neither reticulated  water nor power supply. Today must be washing day as clothes are strewn everywhere, some hung but most having being washed in the brown water of the creeks are laid on the ground to dry. A lady sits, face painted in with a yellow tree bark (aparently this is to attract men) selling food.

We climb out of the city, eventually arriving at the top of a pass. The road winds its way seven kms down the a steep road. A large truck in front of us has flames coming from the brakes on the rear wheel; it takes several minutes of flashing lights and honking horn for him to get the hint and stop.

As we head further west houses tend to be made from timber rather than brick. Even as it gets dark lots of people are walking and pulling carts on the roads. Convoys of large trucks often make it hard to negotiate the relatively narrow road.

Turning off the main road we eventually come to a granite-paved track which leads to our hotel. We can’t get to our room for some time as they have misplaced the key.

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Monday 10 July 2017: Roger

As we headed down the stone drive way at 5am the valley was covered in fog. As daylight broke we were heading back up the valley towards the winding road. In places a narrow guage rail line runs alongside the road, built in the 1920s with compensation paid to France by the Germans for WWI. It is still in use but only for freight. Partially wiped out in places by a recient cyclone it is now running again.

As we pass through towns lots of people are out and about. Entering the capital the place is chaotic with mainly Mercedes mini buses ferrying people around, competing with bullock-carts, hand-carts, old Citroen taxis and cars for space on the road. Mercedes has done a great sales job here as they also seem to dominate the truck market. The streets are lined with stalls; the brick makers and rice growers are at work in the fields. Hundreds of men stand on the side of the road.

Arriving at the back gate to the airport we are lead to a Cessna 210. With its new 300 horsepower turbo engine and new coat of paint it is to fly us to Mandrare River, down the south end of Madagascar. Martin, the South African pilot soon appears and after waiting for the fog to clear we are airborne.

As we get airborne we can see that Antananarivo (Tana) is a city built around rice paddies. Every bit of flat land is a rice field ,at present some flooded, some dry. Martin tells me that in the wet season it’s like one big lake. As we fly south there are thousands of valleys all terraced into rice fields. It seems that every gully with a spring has been terraced to allow water to flow evenly over the ground. Many are really remote with no sign of roads. Villages have large sheds.

Cruising at 140 knots with a tail wind giving us 180 knots, we covered the 380 nautical miles in two and a half hours. As we approached the dirt airstrip we could see mile upon mile of, what looked like pineapple plants. These turned out to be sisal plants. There are around thirty thousand hectares of then in the area. Used for making large ropes for tying up cargo and other large ships and also for rugs. The outside fronds are cut by hand from each plant, bundled and then carted by tractor to the local factory. The ground is prepared by tractor and the plants planted by hand. This employs around a thousand locals at a rate of 2400 riaria per day, about USD1.

We did few circuits of the strip before touching down to be met by Theo the camp manager. A short drive in a Landrover had us at the camp. Theo’s wife Zizi was there to meet us and after a tour of the facilities we stowed our kit in our tent and headed of for our first activity.

A 15 min drive up a rough sandy/dirt road, passing through the local village got us to the start point. A couple of kayak are used to take us across the shallow river. On the other side are sandy river flats where the locals are planting their sweet potato crops. Thousands of these cuttings are placed in the sand and in four months produce a 30 to 50 mm tuda.

 

After crossing the flats we enter the sacred spiny Forrest. Alberto our guide gives a run down on the rules: “no pointing, no toileting and no removing anything.” Nearly every plant in here has a spike on it. We stick to the path as Alfred gives us a run down on the burial customs of the locals. The wealthy have a tomb surrounded by a concrete or stone wall; for the not so wealthy a shallow hole is dug and rocks piled on top. Between 3 and 20 zebu (the local cow) are sacrificed as part of the ceremony depending on one’s status. At USD300 each, dying can be expensive. The leftover meat is salted and given to those attending to take home.

We spot a couple of nocturnal sportive lemur hiding in a tree.

A couple of happy looking woman stroll through the forest on their way home from the river, heavy loads on there heads and babies on their backs.

The sun is setting as we are dragged back across the river where drinks and nibbles are laid out for us so we can sit and watch while the locals wrap up there day at the river.

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