Mana Pools & The attack of the sausage

Every now and then, when in deepest darkest Africa, you find yourself in a situation where you are going to a place, to catch the ‘on-demand-ferry’, to get to a National Park.  We heard about this option from the owners of the Maabwe campsite, who gave us simple directions and simple instructions – and this is all we had to go on, to complete our 7-hour journey.  The route is not on a map (google maps sends you around the houses, on a trip that would have taken days) and you have no clue if the Ferry is working, or how to ‘call it over’ to pick you up.  You know that worst case scenario, it will add three extra hours driving time, on bad road. We even had a Harare local tell us the ferry wasn’t operational.  After we figured out we were not talking about the same ferry, we decided to trust our gut, go for it, and hope for the best. 

The drive was slow, but that was expected.  The road was either ‘tarmac’ with more pot holes than tar, or a dirt road full of corrugation.  At one point, we hit a sandy stretch, and I accidently drove – the only other car on the road that day –  into the bad patch.   I did attempt to get off the road, to share the hard ground, to which Col said ‘what are you doing?’ To which my response was to go back to hogging the whole hard stretch, which sent the oncoming guy straight into the shitty bit. Daggers were sent my way from all angels – both within the car, and from across the road. The driver, a two-meter-tall teacher of English and Bibel studies, got stuck and was not amused to start with.  I apologized profusely – and offered to pull him out which was all quite easy.  It was here, when we noticed that our spare tire carrier had completely broken off the back of the car, and the tire was hanging on by just the padlock.  See Col – it was a good thing that I caused such a mess, or else we never would have noticed this –  we could have lost the tire completely and not known.  The money we would have lost! My little hiccup saved us tons of cash, and further damage to Andromeda 😊.

When we got to the ferry (based at a croc farm), there was no ferry – we were told we had to call parks to come and get us.  With no phone numbers and no network, this was some what of a challenge.  One chap decided he would help us, and go and get the rangers with his little speed boat.  He fired up said boat, and 30 meters off shore it konked out. From the noises it was making – it didn’t sound like it was going to start up again.  We told his mate with a bit of concern – ‘Is your friend ok? It sounds like the boat has a problem.’ to which his response was ‘He will make a plan’.  Ok then!  We waited around, and chatted with the locals, who wanted to know what the purpose was of driving around Africa.  They didn’t really understand why we would do such a thing, but had tons of questions for us.  Eventually a parks boat arrived, but it wasn’t big enough to get Andromeda on board – so they sent the bigger ferry – and the little boat went to rescue the original boat, who was still spluttering around in hippo and croc infested waters. 

Don’t ask how – but we got to Tashinga National Park, and spent the next three days parked on the edge of Lake Kariba, enjoying the three cheeky bull elephants that wondered through camp a couple of times a day, the impalas, the hippos, the baboons, and the bush buck.  It was a very relaxed way to spend some time in the bush.

From Tashinga we drove to Karoi to get supplies, and weld the tire carrier back onto the car before heading to Mana pools, which I feel is Zimbabwe’s Serengeti.  Keeping one eye on the rains we headed into Mana Pools, which has the most stunning and mystical landscapes.    Despite it not being the best time of year to visit, we saw plenty including lions on the other side of the river to our campsite, a large jowly croc eating a baby zebra, more hippos than you can shake a stick at, and even got a half attempt of an Elephant doing the Mana Pools pose, where they stand on their back legs to reach high into the tree canopy.  This is a park we will need to return to!

The campsite was on the banks of the Zambezi, which offered stunning views across the Zambian side. With it being over 40 degrees, and not a breath of a breeze at night, it was baking in the roof tent.  We wished for breeze, and on the second night, a breeze is what we got– in the form of gale force hurricane winds 😊.  What a storm!  Thunder, lighting, rain and winds, kept us up for part of the night.  At one point we felt a thump on the car, and thought a hippo had bumped into us – but the next morning discovered we had in fact been torpedoed by one of the sausages in the sausage tree that we thought we had avoided.  Andromeda now has a wee scar on her left front wing.  Its all signs she has been on an adventure.

It doesn’t take much for the pans to fill up with water, and we left a completely different looking Mana Pools after the storm.

From Mana Pools we ‘thread the needle’ to Harare on the A1.  The A1 takes the biscuit when it comes to the worst road we have been on so far. It is no picnic. You know how most roads have the thick yellow line on the edges followed by a hard shoulder of about a meter? The A1 has no hard shoulder, and in many cases the yellow line has been eroded away, offering you the equivalent of the width of one car, to drive on.  As if that’s not hairy enough you are still expected to dodge pot holes, oncoming traffic, and overtaking lorries who seem to be very comfortable and confident driving at 90KM/hr.  Threading the needle is when you have a lorry coming towards you, and a pot hole in front of you, and you have the narrowest of gaps to squeeze into.  Andromeda is the thread – the situation on the road is the needle.  Col, thankfully does the driving here – he has the ability to stay calm and collected and gets us through it.  If I was driving, my lack of judging distances, would mean we would have to resort to simply hope for the best.

We had a fabulous quiet night at the Lions Den to break up the trip and then made it to Harare where Andromeda got treated to a full-on service, including a gear box oil change, as her second gear isn’t too happy at the moment.

From Harare we crossed the border into Mozambique – which took a slow hour and 31 minutes.  The only signs we have had to date, that we are getting close to Christmas, is that every Tom, Dick and Harry at the border, asked for their Christmas BOX…. BOX? It used to be a simple Christmas gift – now we are wanting whole boxes?!  The most entertaining part of the border crossing was the Congolese man who proudly showed us he had been shot seven times! Seven times! He lifted his shirt, to expose his big belly, and indeed six bullet scars, with the seventh being in his arm.  He drives lorries, carrying new cars, from one place to another – shooting him was an attempted burglary.  He was giving a priest a lift, who took one bullet and didn’t make it.  He is now a firm believer of ‘If it’s your time, it’s your time’ – and clearly it wasn’t his (despite him not being a church attending, alcohol drinking, citizen of the world – unlike the priest).  Another reminder that we have to live our lives for today – tomorrow is not guaranteed.

In Mozambique we stayed with a buddy of ours.  It’s all air-conditioning, pools and bbqs.  Am loving it!

Next Up: Into Malawi and what will be the last country to explore before heading back to Tanzania.