(However, we have done a bit in between)
Our campsite – the Wehlberg’s garden
When we last wrote, the Wehlbergs were expecting Yank hunters to their bush camp and, after that, we were to spend a few days there. The hunter, singular, duly arrived, a lieutenant colonel in the USAF based in Germany. The leopards, sable and kudu all survived but he did manage to shoot one unfortunate klipspringer, which he was very happy about. Presumably because he could take the trophy on his return flight without bothering about being overweight. Bet he was the cowboy who shot up the Kosovo refugee column.
Brian’s camp
Brian’s camp. Five-star ablutes in background.
Anyway, once the colonel was on his merry way, off we went to spend 3 nights in Brian’s bush camp. What a lovely spot – not a lot of game – we still haven’t seen leopard, but totally isolated, perched in the rocks above the river. During the day we explored the gorge on foot or took the Landy along some interesting tracks (Hence a small hole in our spare fuel tank – Pratley Putty is a wonderful thing. There are some Bushman Paintings here, but it took us all of 3 days to find them, and then only when we decided that the road shown on the rather basic map didn’t exist, so we took to the bush. There they were, fascinating, no roads, no signposts, and no entry fee.
Looking for the way-in to the painting caves.
Chegutu. Bushman paintings.
In fact, most of our days have been spent exploring the farm. There are a number of small gold mines in the area. Gold mining has been taking place here for a few centuries and there are a couple of Portuguese trading forts here. Sadly, we haven’t picked up any nuggets in the river, but there is plenty of “trading” in Chegutu. The norm is for the unwary traveller to be approached by a reasonably dressed individual with a sad tale of a broken-down car, and could he get a lift. The conversation then goes on that he works at the local gold mine, and, would you believe it, he just so happens to have a spot of the local product in his pocket. Naturally, he would be only too happy to part with it at a very modest price. Someone here must run classes on this scam because each character that has approached us has come up with the same story.
We decided that we really must spend some time on the Zambezi at Mana Pools. Because it’s Parks Board, it is essential to book, and, because the telephone bookings are erratic in the extreme (a la Natal Parks Board), it is better to book in person in Harare. Marion Wehlberg kindly offered to guide us, and we drove in to Harare last Monday week. The people at the Board were very pleasant and efficient. Camping at Mana Pools costs 300 ZD (R50) per site, there is a vehicle entrance fee of 100 ZD, but, as usual the poor old non-resident gets ripped off with an additional fee of USD 20 per head. Having done our bookings, we wandered around Borrowdale, an affluent suburb. A very attractive area, except in the vicinity of the President’s house. There is razor wire everywhere, armed soldiers patrol the pavement, and tyre spikes are conveniently situated at each corner.
Last Wednesday we left the caravan here and set out for Mana Pools National Park. The park is on the Zambezi, about 100 km down river from Kariba Dam wall. Camping is only permitted in the dry season from May until the end of October. You leave the main Chirundu road just after Makuti, and then there is 70 odd kms of fairly rugged dirt.
Mana Pools with Zambia on the other side.
Private basic sites are available along the river, as is the main camp that we were staying at, which holds about 25 sites. All sites at Mana Pools are unfenced. There is absolutely no segregation twixt man and beast, nor is man confined to his/her vehicle, you can walk where you want although it is wise to be within sprintable distance of your car or a tree.
A pair of neighbourly buffalo.
As we arrived and found our spot under some shady trees, an elephant ambled through a few meters away, on his way to the river.
The trees, by the way were Acacia albida (Apple ring acacia), and they are full of curled bean pods – hence Apple ring. What we didn’t know at the time was that elephant, buffalo and hippo, particularly elephant, are very, very partial to the beans of Acacia albida. We were soon to find out, – at about 1.30 next morning we woke up to crash, bang, puff, fart and the gurgling of some very large stomachs – furthermore the gurgling was coming from above our heads. Three elephants were around our tent hoovering up the beans on the ground and pulling off the branches above our heads. Now we all know that wild animals will not harm you in a tent, but what would happen if we were unlucky enough to get a clumsy one who tripped over a guy rope and sat on our heads? As you will by now have surmised that did not happen, but it was the start of four exciting and fascinating nights.
Possibly one of our visitors from the night before
Wild animals come into the camp at all times, but more so at night. We would have our evening meal, then sit by the fire with a glass or cup of suitable muscle relaxant, and watch. Elephant, Hippo, Buffalo and Hyena, all wandered through within feet of us. Regrettably, no lion came into camp while we were there although we did see one on a kill, whilst driving around in the daytime.
Birdlife is plentiful, as is the case in the most of Zimbabwe. We told you in our last letter that there were 428 types in Chegutu, there are even more at Mana Pools. We have taken up the challenge and undertaken some really serious twitching. Thus far we’ve identified 51 – in 4 weeks! The trouble is that the little devils won’t stand still. It’s tweet tweet, and they’re away. Of course, they are totally spoilt these days. In the times of Baines (Roberts’ too we suspect, but he nailed them to the trees and took photos), you went bird watching with a shotgun. Tweet Tweet in a bush and, Blam! What have we here? Ah yes, 1 Malachite kingfisher, 2 Carmine Bee Eaters , 24 Tweeting Warblers. Right, stick them together, make a sketch, enter them into your life list, and on to the next bush. It’s just not as easy these days.
Bee Eaters.
We are very proud of the fact that we saw, and positively identified, an Ovambo Sparrowhawk. Wow! This all came about because this very cooperative bird sat in a tree above us for a full half hour, turning first this way then that, whilst we checked him out with every ruddy picture in the book.
The camp sits on the banks above the Zambezi, then comes a sandy, sometimes grassy, beach, then the river itself, flowing at quite a pace. It’s not too deep (about shoulder high to an elephant) and the game often cross to the mid-stream islands. Zambia lies on the other side and in the mornings and evenings the Zambian escarpment makes a beautiful picture. Fishing is permitted from the banks, and a few small tiger fish were pulled in whilst we were there – on worms. The park, of course, has its regulations, and fishing regulation 7 is worth quoting.
“Any crocodiles or hippos accidentally hooked while fishing must be released immediately by cutting your line.”
Very sensible indeed. You can imagine it can’t you.
“Quick, Jean, bring the net, I think I’ve got a decent size hippo here.”
Like to see Brown handling that one with his pigmy Scarborough.
Fishermen who catch one of these are asked to return them to the water. (Note his head gear.)
We will undoubtedly return to Mana Pools, but it must be said that it has its downside. The camp is scruffy, and maintenance is negligible – in fact we would prefer a bush camp with no facilities to the seedy ones here. There is also the irritation of the monkeys, but worse, there is a major problem with Baboon. Our tent was raided 3 times. Zips are no problem at all to these boys. On the last occasion we firmly tied all the zip rings together but a big male, frustrated, just ripped his way in. The silly thing was that we had no food in the tent at all, we kept it all in the Landy.
The day we left to come home, one poor unfortunate had his tent overturned, his cold box emptied, and a large, locked, tin trunk dragged off for at least 20 meters. We tried to chase them off, but it’s really not very wise to argue with a group of adult baboons when food is involved.
Of course, when you really look into the causes for these problems, there he is — good old Gauteng Wally. You are warned about taking fruit into the reserve, but there’s Wally leaving a trail of oranges so that he can get good photos.
While we were there, a bunch of Wallies had a box of fruit under their Unimog, and they got upset because the baboons stole it. Another Wally and his mate laid out their braai meat bones at night so that the Hyena would come in close, and a party of Wallies opposite us watched with interest while the baboons ransacked our tent (we couldn’t be positive but are pretty sure that they were videoing the whole thing).
On the other hand, a Zimbabwean family from up the way, ran down and chased the culprits off, so saving us from a lot more damage. Anyway, enough pontificating, it’s a great place to go to.
We are now back at Ijapo farm. Today we sorted out a wheel bearing on the caravan – at least we think we sorted out the wheel bearing. Tomorrow we head for Ngezi, about 120 km South of here. Ngezi is a Recreational Park. We won’t take the van and we’ll camp and fish at the lake. Plenty of crocs, hippo, and, without a doubt, baboon. Hopefully not too many Wallies.
A thought has just occurred, the term Wally is not intended in any way to refer to any particular individual living or dead, and especially not our good friends Frank and Lulu Wallis. (Frank is a very large lad and Sean would hate that there be any misunderstanding)