From boskaks to starched linen – Mozambique and Malawi

Friday, 28th of March, Chimanimani NP to Lake Chicamba, Mozambique

With the first daylight we get up and pack up the tent. We cross a small stream and finally manage to find an old overgrown track leading us into the direction of the main camp. The high, dense grass is full of dew and from walking through it we are completely drenched within minutes. I am glad to have waterproof hiking boots! The water inside definitely doesn’t go out! The track leads us to the road and finally we are back at main camp and are hugging Anse! We start a big drying and repacking mission since all the camping gear has now to be stowed away again. After filling up our tanks with the good mountain water, we finally leave Chimanimani NP around noon.

En route we stock up with fruit (apples, mandarins, oranges, guavas, mango) and veggies (sweet potatoes, tomatoes), using our complete stash of Zim Dollars which we bartered for my coffee. After we run out Zim Dollars, we also manage to barter some fire wood from next to the road for two boxes of matches and two empty coke bottles!

A by-passing couple is wearing Mugabe T-shirts for the elections. The guys we get the wood from, however, are supporting the opposition and disapprove of the by-passing couple calling them something like ‘weaksters’. Seems like the field is split, it’s going to be an interesting election! The old man we spoke to sends us off with a ‘Go Slow!’

We go through Mutare and then cross the border into Mozambique at Machipanda. The border crossing goes quite smoothly but still takes about an hour until we are through. The immigration official amazes me with speaking an impeccable German and is very helpful. We even manage to exchange some Meticais at a reasonable rate (24 Meticais for 1 US $). Kirsty has sassed out a place to stay on the GPS and we are heading to a lodge on the shores of the Chicamba Dam. After speaking to the manager we get a prime camping spot overlooking the lake and treat ourselves with dinner (fish fresh from the dam) at their restaurant.

Saturday, 29th of March, Kirsty’s birthday and Presidential Elections in Zimbabwe, Lake Chicamba

We are waking up to the singing of fishermen who’s vivid melodies echo over the whole lake. The morning mist, thicker close to the shore, wrapped around the reed and clinging onto some distorted dead branches is lifting slowly from the rising sun – it’s a truly magical and at the same time mystical atmosphere.
Since it’s Kirsty’s birthday, I organized a bottle of champagne to be brought to our tent at 7:30am and soon after we are enjoying a champagne breakfast. Kirsty struggles to get cell phone reception and the generous owner of the camp Derek (who is also a Zimbabwean farmer whose farm had been taken away from him) takes her out to the middle of the dam where she can get reception and manages to speak to her family back in Australia. We spend the rest of the day taking it easy and enjoying the relaxed atmosphere.

Sunday, 30th of March, Lake Chicamba to Gorongoza NP

We one more time take advantage of the restaurant and have a full on breakfast. After talking to the camp’s owner Derek, we decide not to go to Beira and head for Gorongoza (we preferred to call it Gorgonzola!) NP. At the turn-off to the park we read a sign ‘Camping closed’, but we drive in anyway thinking they might let us ‘park’ somewhere with our rooftop tent. It turns out (only once we drove the 30 km into the park and arrived at the recepition in a small village called Chitengo) that we are not only forced to stay in some expensive cottages, but that driving around in the park is actually not allowed at the moment because it’s still too swampy from the heavy rain season! I am really disappointed about that but we don’t really have a choice because it’s already late. Our stay turns out to be one of the bizarrest ones so far!

Unlike in any other National Park our ‘posh’ accommodation is situated right next to the staff village with goats and chicken running around and babies crying – not quite what one expects from a game park! We get put up in one half of a rondavel (round hut with thatched roof) furnished with a ginormous (Kirsty’s lingo) mosquito net covered bed that looks like it fits more into a cheesy Biggy Best honeymoon suite! But at least we have electric light and hot, ant infested showers powered by noisy generators a stone throw away. While the only thing we wanted was peace and quiet, the uniform-dressed service staff (which looking at the poor village right next to us felt totally out of context)came around a few times wanting to prepare our beds for the night and fold back our duvet covers! When we spoke to the barman at the restaurant to find out what they offered on the menu, he explained that it was a sort of buffet thing where everybody from the village and staff comes together…but he said he wasn’t sure if we would like it! When we said that we’d rather cook ourselves he just grinned and said ‘Good choice!’

Monday, 31st of March, Gorongoza NP to Casa Branca near Caia

The next morning we get woken up by the loud staff who supposedly is weeding and watering the garden right in front of our window but meanwhile checking us out through the mosquito netted windows and impatiently waiting for us to leave so that they can clean our room.

We head further north and cross the Zambezi via ferry at Caia. Kirsty finds an overnight spot saying ‘Casa Arragna, camping next to house’ on the GPS. The turn off is about 60km past Caia, but then it’s still a 30km drive on a very small overgrown dirt road which doesn’t seem to end. The further we drive into this endless bush the more we wonder what we will expect at this overnight spot. We arrive in the dark at what the GPS tells us is the destination and when I see a camp fire burning, I am relieved and thinking a place with a camp fire can’t be too bad! It turns out that we end up at this sweet old couple Fernando and Excelsia’s farm ‘Casa Branca’. They could be our grand parents and are lovely people making us feel at home immediately. We get introduced right away into their farm life – while we are preparing our dinner the four farm workers with their children, Fernando and Excelsia gather around the camp fire singing hymns and telling stories. A truly amazing little community initiated by this old couple.

Tuesday, 1st of April, Casa Branca near Caia

We decide to stay another day and get rewarded with an amazing insight into Mozambiquean farming practices. Fernando and Excelsia grow a multitude of produce on their small fertile piece of land! Cassava, Mango, Granadillas, Bananas, Lemons, Maize, Pineapple, Cashew nuts, Peanuts, Macadamia nuts, sweet potatoes and a couple of other strange plants which I’ve never seen before, never mind remembering their names! They also have sheep, goats, geese, chicken, turkey, cows and 5 cute little puppy dogs. After doing a huge amount of washing in the owner’s bath tub which proved to be quite a workout, we have fun doing a photo session with the two farm worker’s daughters and enjoy the sunset from a thatched view point.

Luckily the scary text message I got from my colleague and tenant Anneke back in Cape Town that night about a burglary of my apartment proved to be an April fools joke! Hey, you got me sweating there for a sec!



Wednesday, 2nd of April, Casa Branca to Zalala Beach near Quelimane

We leave ‘Casa Branca’ and the amazing couple Fernando and Excelsia with a heavy heart, but only after we were given a whole bunch of fresh bananas and ginormous granadillas. We drive to Quelimane on our way to Zalala Beach. Quelimane is the best proof of how us humans are messing up this planet! This town, which supposed to be the country’s fifth biggest one, is a mere accumulation of human filth! The ‘roads’ are potholes held together by a few grains of gravel in between them – no need for speed bumps here! There’s rubbish everywhere, there are huge puddles of revolting sludge and mud, so big and deep that I almost got bogged down in one of them – thank god for my new Cooper tires!

We run out of Meticals after filling up our tank, at almost 39 Meticais a liter and in no time Kirsty manages in her charming way to exchange some US dollars with strangers who stop at the filling station – at a good rate!

After driving around in circles and almost giving up already in finding an internet café, we finally manage to find one and spend almost two hours updating our blogs and reading emails. The connection is very slow and it needs a great deal of patience…

Very happy to leave this dirty town, we carry on to Zalala beach some 27km further east. The very crowded road (with people and bicycles carrying all sorts of stuff) leads through one of the most extensive coconut plantations in Africa. After the comment about Zalala from an Austrian woman we met at the internet cafe (When we asked how the camp site is, she responded: ‘Hmm… the prawns are good!’) and also Kevin and Philippa’s sms saying that they didn’t like it there, we didn’t expect too much.

Kirsty got upset seeing and trying to comfort an obviously much neglected and sick little girl who was crying with no mum in sight. We often experience the reality of these poor people here and since it’s almost impossible to help each individual we are trying to support their community by only buying our supplies from the local street dealers.

As much of a weird spot Zalala was, we did enjoy the proximity of the sea. And the prawns!

Thursday, 3rd of April, Zalala to Gurue

After going for a run on the beach, we head back through Quelimane and after another visit to the internet café we are on our way north, passing Namacurra, Mocuba, Errego on a really bad road and finally ending up in Gurue. The scenery on this way changes and beautiful rolling hills pop up around us, one of them being the second highest peak of the country, Monte Namuli 2419m. Our old guide book promises a nice guest house in Gurue with a camp site. Unfortunately it doesn’t exist anymore and we camp in the dog poo infested back yard of a dodgy hotel with an even dodgier ‘bathroom’ for an overpriced 400 Meticais a night. It doesn’t stop us from pulling out our camping stuff and cooking up a nice meal, while we are being watched by the surrounding neighbors. The hotel manager even connects an extension lead to a bedside lamp of which he removed the shade and puts it next to us on the grass!

Friday, 4th of April Gurue to a village close to Cuamba

We fill up and also change US dollars at the local bank which is quite a long procedure. The road from now on is treacherous and while we are making slow progress I feel sorry what we put Anse through! In order not to end up again at some crowded town, we decide to camp in a small village 25km outside Cuamba. After talking to the chief, we are granted to stay. We were surrounded by the crowed, every soul living in the small village followed every single step we made and to distract a bit from us, we showed the animation DVD ‘Madagascar’ to the kids while we tried to eat some yesterday’s leftovers in peace…

Saturday, 5th of April, village close to Cuamba (we dub it Cucumber) to Chiwanga, close to Metangula

By 7:30 we are on the road again, waving good-bye to ‘our’ village people. The road is sort of okay and we making good progress. In Massangulo we stop since we are not sure about the route option via Catur. Since the direct road seems to be frequented by the local taxis, we rather choose the same road but only after buying some fresh local fries served in a little plastic bag from one of the vendors circling Anse.

The road is pretty bad but has tarred stretches at times. At local village markets we manage to buy nice onions and even Portuguese rolls. We reach Lichinga before lunch time and do some shopping at a very posh supermarket. We pass Maniamba where I buy my first sugar cane! The locals are walking around with them all the time, biting off the hard wooden shell, chewing the softer core which contains sweet refreshing sap and then spitting the rest out. We once saw on an uphill the left roadside covered with sugar cane bits since the locals were pushing their bicycles uphill while chewing the cane for energy, but the right roadside was sparkling clean since everyone was speeding downhill on their bikes!

On our way to Metangula and further to Chiwanga we meet a (white) couple, Ian from Canada and Lena from Denmark. The last 8km stretch to Chiwanga Camp is quite a bad stretch but we get rewarded with an amazing view over Lago Niassa (Eastern Mozambiquean side of Lake Malawi). Unfortunately there are no cottages left, but we are quite happy to camp anyway. Only the bathroom facilities (the toilet flush here being a big bucket of water next to a toilet, same applies for the ‘shower’) are poor but who cares if we get to camp on the beach with our roof top tent facing the lake and the Malawian shore with its mountainous silhouette some 50km away! We have dinner, (local fish Chamba and rice) with Ian and Lena who have an assignment to do some research for the Danish government and are real fun company to be with. Ian has lots of stories to tell since he has traveled to and lived at a lot of places.

Sunday, 6th of April, Chiwanga

We take it easy today, go for a run along the beach and for long swims in the awesome water. We say good bye to Ian and Lena who have to go back to Maputo.


Monday, 7th of April, National Woman’s day in Mozambique, Chiwanga

I go for a long swim which is awesome since the water is amazingly clear in the mornings! We cook a delicious breakfast and do our washing. Some locals from Lichinga who are here for the day invite us to have picnic with them on the beach. Kirsty joins the local women for a dance along the beach. Since our Chimanimani water reserves in our tank are depleting we fill up with local borehole water and start filtering our first batch (40liters!) into one of Anse’s two tanks.

Tuesday, 8th of April, Chiwanga

Another rest day which I spent mainly with catching up on my diary, sitting at the bar next to the beach with the laptop connected to the plug next to their freezer and having constantly a couple of locals staring over my shoulder! At lunch time the bar man and his wife invite me to have fish and Nshima (maize pap) with them, which is really yummy!

Wednesday, 9th of April, Chiwanga to Cobue

Packing up the tent takes a bit longer this morning since we need to clean off all the stuff that has fallen off the big tree under which we camped the last four nights. We leave around 9:30, continuing on the bad dirt road north which, for the next 30 km or so leads through one village after the other. Some wooden bridges which don’t look too trustworthy keep our adrenaline at a high… Once we pass the villages the road gets better and we make good progress. The last 15 km towards Cobue are again quite a challenge, crossing one river numerous times over more or less adventurous drifts. Rain starts to set in and we are getting worried that the road’s condition will deteriorate, but after about 86km and 4 ½ hours we finally reach Cobue! Yipeee! It’s like a dream come true, I always wanted to explore this inaccessible shore of Lago Niassa, since I have been on the Malawian (western) side before with my friends Kevin and Philippa.

We ask some locals for accommodation and end up at a simple but nice rest camp where we are again able to get a prime spot right on the beach overlooking the lake! The owner’s sister Maria speaks English well, which is a relief after struggling a bit during the past few days with our poor Portuguese language skills. Later her brother and rest camp manager Julios arrives and gives us an insight about the different sightseeing and lodging options here. He works closely together with Nikwitcha Lodge, which he helped establishing in 1998 and which is only reachable by boat from Cobue. But to find out more he wants to put us in touch with the manager of that lodge which doesn’t have cell phone reception. So Julios has to call someone who lives close to that lodge and still gets cell phone reception. That guy then runs about a kilometer to Nikwitcha Lodge to tell the manager that someone wants to speak to him. Then the manager has to go wherever he can get reception to call Julios back – only in Africa!!!

Thursday, 10th of April, Cobue

We stay another day and prepare Anse for parking off a few days, which means mainly emptying and cleaning the fridge. Our frozen meat rations from South Africa were just right to make it up here.

I also take my mountain bike off the carrier rack and go for my first bike ride on this trip into the hilly coastline. Following first the dirt road we came in, I take a footpath veering off to the left and follow it for a few kilometers. I catch up to two guys walking who jump scared into the bushes when they hear my breaks squeaking – they surely have never seen a cyclist on their path and looked a bit intimidated! Since the path is going further into the mountains, I rather turn around and head the same way back to Cobue. I pass a hut with three women sitting in front of it, weaving straw mats and putting a binding around them – reminded me of my colleagues back in Cape Town, am wondering how they are doing? There’s also a guy sitting on the steps fixing his fishing net. Once I start, they all want to be photographed and addresses have to be exchanged…

Friday, 11th of April, Cobue (Mozambique) to Likoma Island (Malawi) by Dhow (local sailing boat)

At 7am we (plus my bicycle) take a Dhow to Likoma Island and after Kirsty negotiated a super good price we decide to stay at the simple but nice Khaiko Lodge. Since we are now on Malawi ground, we still have to sail further to the center of the village to have our passports stamped at the Immigration Office. Without hesitation one of the staff members runs home to get his bicycle, offering it to us so we can both ride back from the village to the lodge! The people in Africa never fail to amaze me! And they do it with a facileness that baffles us even more!

Immigration is a laugh! If I was allowed to take a photograph, I would have definitely! Picture just these two guys in track suits standing under some corrugated roofed structure, armed with merely a stamp and some loose customs entry forms. The one guy gets some entry form ready to complete, waves it in front of us figuring out whom to give it to and asks us: ‘Who’s the head?’ We look at each other grinning and shrugging shoulders. Kirsty’s theory that the woman often seems to be in charge, but when it comes to the crunch the man has to make the critical decisions kicks in and I grab the pen… Since we plan to leave on Sunday when they are not usually in their ‘office’, they give us their private cell numbers to arrange stamping our passports out! We got the formalities done in a breeze and had lunch at the nearby pub, where we see the same immigration guys having a beer minutes later!

On our way back to the lodge we managed to see the old Anglican cathedral which is the proud and heart of Likoma, built in 1905. It is really beautiful and is said to be the biggest in Africa. The warden, a little old man who just strokes the bell for noon takes us on a tour and tells us about the history of this remarkable building.

As we are the only guests in the lodge we get treated well and even our special requests for some fresh fruit were met without hesitation. It just meant that someone was quickly sent out to the other side of the island to get some oranges and bananas for us!

Saturday, 12th of April, Likoma Island, Kirsty’s brother Andrew’s birthday

After a good breakfast I get onto my mountain bike to explore the island. Not far from the Lodge I meet a fellow building a fishing boat. It takes him a week to make one! Do you have a pattern to cut the wooden planks into shape? Pattern? No, he says the bow is 32 inches high and the stern 28! And it is so wide…he stretches his arms! Boatbuilding in Malawi!

I stop at some hut where there are a whole lot of tiny fish laying outside and drying in the sun. I get talking with the guys living in the house. That fish keeps for months dried like that they tell me. I ask them for some local lingo and the next half hour turns out to be a real crash course in Chichewa! Muli bwanji? (How are you?), Ndili bwino! (I am fine!) and Zikomo kwambile (Thank you very much) are some of the lingo I learned and wrote down on a scrap piece of paper. Armed with my little dictionary on my bike’s map board I could conquer the rest of the island now!

Since the main roads mainly run inland of the island, I always tried to take some smaller paths taking me to the edge so I could see some of the coastline. I happened to make a turn at a sign ‘Kaya Mawa Village’ and ended up at this most amazing lodge nestled right on the beach between some hundred year old baobabs. The South African manager Craig gave me a tour of this impressive place with its 10 hidden away chalets and a honey moon cottage on a separate island, connected to the lodge with a suspension foot bridge!

I left with a couple of pics on my camera and carried on cycling to the backpacker place of the island which is called ‘Mango Drift’. I let two kids climb with me onto my bike, one on my carrier rack and one on my handle bar and off we go followed by a whole swarm of other kids, running and screaming behind us. They show me the right way to the backpacker place and I stop for a beer to have a chat with some guests there who are from the UK but also from Sweden and Australia. I pedal further on some single track foot path which takes me to the next village. Past the power station of the island, where a generator guzzles 220 liters of diesel a day to create electricity for the whole island, I carry on to the northern tip of the island where a Rastafarian shows me the way. Ja man! We are so sorry to hear about Lucky Dube! But the Raggae lives on! Ja man, take care brother!

Most of the houses I pass seem pretty empty, but when I get closer to the village center, I realize why: The whole community is gathered at the soccer field – it’s Saturday night and the game is on! Also, the ship ‘Ilala’ is expected to reach the island from the mainland, so there will be a big party tonight! Back at Khaiko Lodge I tell Kirsty about my finding of Kaya Mawa Lodge and we decide to spend some time there instead of Nkwichi Lodge on the Mozambiquean side of the lake, which we had in mind initially.


Sunday, 13th of April, Likoma Island

After breakfast I cycle into the village to catch Antonio, the sailor which we were supposed to meet to go back to Cobue (to then spend some time at Nkwichi Lodge as we had initially planned). I make him understand (he only speaks Portuguese) that we changed plans and ask him to sail us to the Kaya Mawa Lodge which is situated on the south western corner of Likoma Island. This place is absolutely beautiful, nestled between old baobabs, really tastefully built and decorated making use of the existing surroundings as well as displaying local craftsmanship and art. Tables made out of old mokoros (dug-out canoes), the bow of an old fishing boat converted into a bookshelf, a locally carved wooden paddle serving as a towel holder and their 10 hidden away cottages built with local rock integrating them perfectly into their environment. The food is delicious and we are amazed how all these delicacies make it onto this island! It is absolute bliss staying here and we take in the luxury while it lasts!

Monday, 14th of April, Likoma Island

I make use of the snorkel and fins provided in our chalet and explore the underwater world around the nearby rocks. Sometimes I have to pinch myself to realize that this is not a dream! This is by far one of the most amazing places I have experienced! And even the name of the lodge ‘Kaya Mawa’ which means ‘Maybe Tomorrow’ invites us to sit back and enjoy the laid back atmosphere.

To my delight they also have a Laser, a small sailing dinghy which is waiting for me on the beach in front of the ‘water sport center’. I have lots of fun cruising around and sailing into the sunset while Kirsty grabs one of their paddle skis and joins me on the lake.

Tuesday, 15th of April, Likoma Island

Today is our last day at this amazing spot and even though the winds are not so favorable, I take out the Laser again for a spin. Kirsty tries to upload a few photos on her blog while we have internet access, but the connection is slow.

We had made arrangements with Antonio, our fisherman who had given us a lift to Likoma Island in his dhow to pick us up today at 1pm. Unfortunately he didn’t pitch up and this put us into a frustrating situation. In addition Kirsty isn’t feeling so great - we think it’s the water here that they use for cooking and on the dinner table. So I decide to cycle into Likoma village with both our passports to have us stamped out by immigration and at the same time to look for Antonio, or an alternative Dhow to get us over to Cobue, the Mozambiquean main land. While the ride to the village is quick – waiting for the lady with the stamp at the immigration officer’s house takes real African time! I am getting impatient and run to the beach to find a dhow… There are none!!! A bit confused I ask a local guy and he said that the last dhows leave around 11am from the island because of the change of wind direction in the afternoon. Quite an important piece of information which our fisherman Antonio failed to mention to us!

I run back to the immigration guy’s house where our passports are finally being stamped. Seeing that there are no dhows I negotiate with a guy who can get a motored boat going for 50 Dollars. I make a few phone calls to find out the phone number of Caya Mawa and also what they would charge us to be dropped off… Their rate of 150 Dollars makes a decision very easy and I ask the guy I spoke to earlier to get his boat ready. By the time he’s organized the fuel and a guy to help him the wind has picked up. He looks into the sky, frowns and says that with these strong winds he could make it to Caya Mawa to pick Kirsty up, but he said the wouldn’t make it across the lake to Cobue! Well, I didn’t want to challenge him on that, so that meant we would have to stay another day on the island and leave ‘Maybe Tomorrow’!

I cycled back to the Caya Mawa Lodge, where I found Kirsty worried where I had been so long since nobody had told her that I called. Another night at Caya Mawa was definitely not in our budget, so the only alternative was to shoulder our backpacks and walk 25 minutes to the backpacker place ‘Mango Drift’ which is run by the same owners as Kaya Mawa and is situated on the south western side of the island. At 15 Dollars for the two of us not a bad deal, really and the chicken curry was tasty (apart from some drunk burping chick in the background). But all in all it was obviously quite a downgrade of what we had experienced merely a few hours ago and so much harder to get used to!

Wednesday, 16th of April, Likoma to Chiwanga

After a quick breakfast at the backpacker we made our way to Likoma village. I went ahead riding on my bicycle to organize a dhow for us but it seemed that none of them had arrived from Cobue yet. I could see one in the distance though under full sail, so it wouldn’t be too long for them to reach the island. I cycled back the same way to catch Kirsty but I couldn’t find her. Thinking that she must have taken another path to the village, I turn around again. On my way back to the village, an old local man waves his hand as to slow me down. I reluctantly get off my bike wondering if this guy can’t see that I am in a hurry. He comes closer and says with a soft voice: “Signor, your wife is searching you!” A bit baffled but laughing at the same time I hopped back onto my bike riding into the direction the old man had pointed. Never thought I’d be getting married on my trip!

I found Kirsty sitting next to the immigration lady chatting away under the corrugated roof structure, having her exit stamp corrected with a pen to today’s date!
We found some guys taking us on their dhow over to Cobue where we found Anse as we had left her, phew!

After wiping the rotten cream (originating from an exploded packet which we had forgotten to take out) from the inside of our disconnected fridge and once we had our stuff from our backpacks and the bicycle stowed away again, we were on our way back to Chiwanga where we opened our roof top tent under ‘our’ tree 4 ½ hours of wet dirt roads later.