The Beagle, a 2008 Toyota LC on a drift across Africa, piloted by Jim (FitzRoy) and Ann Colleen.
The Beagle, a 2008 Toyota LC on a drift across Africa, piloted by Jim (FitzRoy) and Ann Colleen.
And when it’s time for leaving Mozambique . . . you will feel sad. Mozam-beach, as we took to calling it, will be difficult to top. The people, the scenery, the warm welcome we received from Pemba to Maputo – Moz is wonderful. When you visit, be sure to say hi to Mateo on the beach at Goody’s Villa, he has the biggest, freshest crayfish. At Pandani Beach, Michael and Joseph are the guys to see for oysters, mussels, white snapper and rock cod. And should you find yourself in Cuomo, the only hotel in town has a desk clerk who, while he knows as much English as I know Portuguese, can hook you up with a room and he’ll go out of his way to find you something good to eat, even though it is well past dinner time. Most surprising, and unlike most everywhere else along the Indian Ocean coast, the water is both safe to drink and delicious. Have a long cold glass, you will love it.
Still, another park is calling us. At the southeastern side of Zimbabwe is Gonarezhou National Park, part of the Great Limpopo Transfrontier Park. The Frankfurt Zoological Society has been managing and updating Gonarezhou since early 2000. Their practice of keeping the park accessible but uncrowded makes visiting a delight. Four of the six nights here we were all alone in an environment kept as natural as possible. Most impressive was the staff, everyone knew about their area, knew which campsite has the best view and which one the elephants like the best. Gonarezhou means Place of the Elephant. There are more elephant here than there are impala. If you’ve been to Africa, you must know what the means – and you might think I’m making it up. How can there be more of anything than there are impala? But it’s true. As well, elephants here are somewhat less explosive than in Gorongosa, lucky for us.
Which leads me to explain the cover photo of this post. Jim caught me on camera, beating a hasty exit from the long-drop at our primitive camp – I’d walked to the toilet, admiring how sturdy it was (that should have been my first clue) and I rounded the corner thinking, is that a wall? No, you idiot, it’s an elephant! and I was about to bump into its ass end. Oh dear. . . or words to that effect. I ducked inside the outhouse and he turned on a dime to face me. Was he going to charge? Not that it’d be that much of a charge, I was six inches and a piece of wood away from him. But I didn’t feel threatened and as it turned out he was more interested in the fruit of the Nylala tree over the outhouse; he stood on his hind legs reaching up for the lowest branches as shown in the upper right of this photo.
Elephants, bush buck, monkeys, kudu, baboons and of course the elegant impala came and went through all of our camps; birding was crazy good along the Runde river and out in the mopane, only a kilometer from camp on a hot afternoon we came upon three lion – one of them starred us down for a bit. Only later did I realize my window was completely down while this powerful cat was giving me a good look-over. That is why we keep the engine running. And why we come to wild places like Gonarezhou.
There is time to contemplate how far we’ve come, from Cape Town to Kenya, to the beaches of Mozambique. Jim asked me where I thought we’d be without the Garmin and Traks4Africa – I said “Back home and divorced by now.” We are happily long past the point when every other minute brought on another decision. Tension ran high; that’s what comes of the being way outside your comfort zone. What would we change, now that we have time to think about it? Nothing, really. We couldn’t have taken this overland trip any sooner in our lives and the best time to go is when you go. The route has been successful – we calculated we’ve been on beaches of some sort since November, can’t 
complain about that. Neither of us has been sick. We’ve been through four different coffee presses, five decks of cards and one iPhone as well as countless cans of Peaceful Sleep insect repellent. We will not miss 
the mosquitoes.
There are places to return to and some gaps to fill, next time. Driving Namibia for months gave us a full view of that endless country. Botswana needs another look, hopefully before this trip is over. We’ve already been to Zimbabwe twice and will go back again later this month, so much to see there. Zambia is a favorite, where I am positive we waved to every single person in that friendly country. Tanzania nearly broke the 
bank but with its iconic parks it could not be missed. Zanzibar showed us our first taste of the slavers coast plus powered-sugar white sand beaches. The side trip to Ethiopia, that exotic place, was perfect. Camel 
caravans hauling salt into the sunset – what a scene.
Rwanda – a sobering lesson in humanity. One day we came to a nondescript village and it was time to get out of the truck. A large Genocide Memorial stood out, as in every single town and village. Only this one wasn’t quite finished yet. The very young security guard called an older gentleman to show us around this newly built but empty building. And the blank walls spoke as loudly as any placards. The hollow hallways echoed the footsteps of everyone who would never walk t
here. Finally we found ourselves in a basement containing 38 coffins, displayed neatly as if in a show room. Some had framed photos propped upon them, others had snapshots scotched-taped to them. To our undying surprise, the guide opened a coffin and handed us a small human skull. All these coffins have skulls, he said. At this location a church was bulldozed with thousands of people in it. His children are here, in one of the coffins. He shared his photos of them with us. We thanked him, signed the guest book and drove away. Rwanda; a country where everything is new because there was nothing left.
The primates in Uganda revel in the simplicity of life. We camped, all alone, in the Kibale forest and had a troop of 50+ baboons invade the clearing; they played, groomed each other and goofed off all morning, just having a good time being together. On the eastern side of the country we came to one of our better decisions – we really wanted to drive a certain road to enter Kenya. On the map it looked totally doable. But it was raining. Hard. And pondering the options,
we bypassed that road only to later meet a couple who had taken it; a heart-stopping track, they said “like driving on butter.” We spent a few minutes patting ourselves on the back for not going there. Of course that was prior to being desperately stuck in the mud twice in one week.
Kenya, that most organized of countries, gave us so many new friends. Eldoret town, Lake Turkana, the National Museum, JJs in Nairobi, Samburu Park, the fabulous Twiga and Barefoot beaches, Malindi town – I would go back to Kenya tomorrow. It took days for me to get 
over leaving Twiga; I kept asking myself why we left. But leaving there led us to Malawi and to time spent with our friends Jen and Jared. And on we go; more of Mozambique to see, more Zimbabwe, South Africa and camping with Adrian and Rentia, Swaziland, Lethoso, Botswana . . . where will it end?
Cloud forests filled with unseeable birds, water dripping everywhere. Trout streams and waterfalls. Autumn-dry Brachystegia woodlands with late-blooming wild flowers. Cecil Rhode’s mountain home, now Nyanga National Park. The vast estate of La Rochelle with its 65-year-old botanical gardens. Zimbabwe’s Eastern Highlands boast a great variety of scenery, plants, animals, camping and weather. In one day we were drenched in the mist
y cloud forest then baked by the sun on a hike up to San paintings. The down comforter is out of storage and on the bed for the cold nights but we are still bathing in sunscreen during the day. The high mountain air reminds us of home. This 
is a different part of Zimbabwe than we visited last year.
But the people are still the same – the friendliest, most literate and likable people you’d ever want to meet. Yes, things have changed, they tell us, since November 14 when Robert Mugabe finally left office. At the tollgate on the highway the attendant said November 14 is the new Independence Day. There is much optimism; how we hope for the best for these people who
’ve been in limbo for years. Still, an instant change is impossible. Prices have skyrocketed since we were here a year ago. Deeply-rooted corruption will take years to dismantle. Fallow farms will need literally everything to be up and producing any time soon. If the new government can rise up for its people, there is a good possibility of success because regular Zimbabweans like Listen and his wife Shubi, with daughter 
Paisley, are willing to work so hard to make something happen. We will leave Zim tomorrow for Mozambique; with multi-entry visas we can return to see how it is going in a month or so. Good things come to those that wait, it is said. These people have waited long enoug
h.
We leave Zimbabwe, having seen for ourselves how genuinely warm and friendly its people are and what a beautiful country it is. Enjoyable conversation was had with people from all different backgrounds and walks of life; black and white, old and young, native and transplants; providing a glimpse of real life in this contrary country. We would highly recommend Zimbabwe to anyone contemplating a safari trip to Africa.
Yet Zim is so full of contrasts. There is the campaign actively promoting safety. Laws ensure you must have all manner of safety gear on your vehicle, including the correct size fire extinguisher, which we did not have and for that we paid a fine. You must have the exact strip of honeycomb (not plain, honeycomb) reflective tape on your bumpers, red in the back and white on the front, in exactly the correct position. There are signs in the parks showing where the emergency meeting place is, posted so everyone can see – you may not be able to find your campsite, but you will know where to go if there is a problem. What kind of problem? Who knows?
The country also promotes safe sex with billboards announcing AIDS prevention measures and advising condom use. You can even get a “Defecation Free” declaration for your village if every home has access to a toilet and no one uses the bush. Civil servants wear shirts proclaiming they are corruption-free; signs implore people to report corruption at any level, anonymously if desired. Long lists of values to be expected from “your” civil service officers are posted at every government building.
All these rules and proclamations are fine but they are for the citizens and visitors – they do not apply to the ruling party. Peter Godwin wrote in “The Fear” of common village people voting against the ruling party and having their hands cut off for their trouble. Someone had to order that to be done, and someone had to do the deed. Who does that? It is unfathomable cruelty inflicted on ordinary people by unaccountable politicians. At the bird sanctuary, Elcine tells us the nearby village has a wealth of orphans – their parents were killed when the government ordered their homes bulldozed with them inside, simply because the local voting did not support ZANU party. What a monstrous act.
On one hand the government demands everyone be safe and respectful, and on the other hand they murder and rob at levels we cannot imagine. Now years since the last election (using the term loosely) there is a peace in the country, we are told, even an optimism. And we noticed that. But when elections start the fear will begin all over again. As Elcine said, why have elections at all? A waste of money with a foregone conclusion, not to mention the other dreadful possibilities.
But shouldn’t there be an opposition, someone who can stand up to the current regime? Maybe. Does the opposition actually want to govern the country or do they too just want to rule and feed at the public trough? Governance is boring, a thankless task. Ruling is way more exciting. Why should we care, though? Injustice seems to be the norm everywhere. Every country has problems, yes. It would be good if every country didn’t have these problems.
Zimbabwe’s rich farming culture once exported food but now farms are abandoned and imported food is very expensive. ATMs don’t have any money. We asked a business owner what we would get, US dollars or Zim dollars at the the ATM, she didn’t know, her bank ATM hasn’t worked in months. Parks we visited had the “bones” of great buildings projects, all fallen into near ruin. The joke is, if you plug Great Zimbabwe Ruins into your GPS, the whole country shows up. We were told that the country was fresh and lovely, education was excellent and people had money, 30 years ago. You should have seen it then, we are told. What a pity. The people we met are welcoming and they love their country. They deserve so much better. We make a plan to return.
Our visas extended and our worm-fishing urge satisfied, we leave Lake Kariba and drive the winding mountain road to Mana Pools National Park. We debated this venture, the park isn’t cheap but so many Zimbabweans insisted we visit it, how could we not? The park is legendary, portions of it being right on the Zambezi River and other areas being deep in the mopane forest far from anywhere. Animals abound and people have become prey here; lions killed a tourist walking to the camp shower not so long ago. I don’t need a shower, thank you. Even if I do.
The Chitake Springs camps are the least accessible and we have booked Chitake 3 for two nights. Finding campsite #3 proves somewhat difficult. There are no signs pointing to it or announcing it when you arrive. We use GPS and determine that, yes, #3 really is this bushy, tiny piece of ground on the edge of the river bed – at least it is somewhat level. 
It will take 4-wheel low to get out of it, up a steep hill. Time to settle in to see what happens. We see no one for three days.
The Chitake Spring flows perennially. It can fill a 20-meter river bed, but for now the river bed is mostly damp sand with margins of slow-running water interspersed with elephant trails and loafs of dung. Elephant eat minerals out of the banks and dig holes in the sand which then fill with fresh spring water. Ellies don’t like mucky drinking water. There are 20 or so of them just downstream, having a time of it. 
In this park you are allowed to walk around (I mean, walk around away from your camp and vehicle) but on what planet is this a good idea? The bush is thick, lion are about, hyena frequent the river bed, and then there’s the elephant. Let’s just have a chair and relax with binoculars and cameras. A wart hog takes a mud bath in front of us and a family of mongoose run past. Zebra and kudu come for a drink. A herd of buffalo advance down the sand. By dusk, it starts getting a little more hectic. The bull elephants begin to trumpet and push each other around. The pride of lions begin roaring, the male is on the high ground behind our camp. Hyena slink by, eyeing us sideways and crunching on some old bones. At dark we retire to the tent. The trap cam is set up in the river bed. It is a noisy, exciting night.
Next morning we find that the trap cam works, even if the videos aren’t NatGeo quality. Animals aren’t so cooperative. The ellies all walked by, just far enough away to be nothing but grey blobs on the screen. The elephant who ate and drank and slobbered right by the truck for an hour somehow managed to avoid the camera completely. The lion preferred the high dry ground so did not make the cut at all but for the soundtrack. We look at the film and reset the camera, retire to the camp and then a minute later the big bull elephant strolls by. Gees, where did he come from? Anyone up for a long walk? Yes, right after I take a shower.
The Mana Pools Main Camp is more tame and birds cover the shoreline, the first Saddle-billed Stork of the trip is spotted. Baboon get into the charcoal bag and leave a little surprise for us in the braii pit. Monkeys sneak in and rip up the trash bag while I was sitting there watching the birds. Thinking it was Jim rooting around, I turn and see five Vervets hanging on the side of the truck, making a mess. They aren’t afraid of the catapult. This camp must be good pickings – it looks like it would hold 100 people when full. Hard to imagine so many people here, driving around on the dust roads. We’ve lucked out in this shoulder season. Few people, no bugs, and great weather.
The Beagle draws a lot of attention in Zimbabwe. It is South African-made and due to sanctions and VAT (value-added tax), not many exist here. At a crowded campground on Lake Kariba – yes, crowded for a change – four South African rigs pull in, of which three are Land Cruisers similar to ours. 
Jim has gone off to look at the lake and he returns to find me surrounded by big Saffies with heavy Afrikaans accents asking questions about the truck. Like I know anything. I show them the kitchen. It pales in comparison to what they have – then again they spend 49 weeks a year perfecting their rigs and only three weeks camping. I try not to smile too much. It is nearly dark before we can get away to eat dinner, but that doesn’t trouble the Saffies – they think nothing of starting the braii fire at 9pm and defrosting the meat at 10pm.
Next morning, another fellow comes by to get a tour. We should start charging. But this Zimbabwean man is interested only in the pop-up tent; he has a boat on Lake Kariba that needs a tent. Oh, and by the way, would we like to go fishing with him later? Heck yeah! The day is ideal, Lake Kariba is pretty and placid. Our only chore for the day is extending our visas at the border crossing office so we make a plan to meet at 3pm. 
Gavin has fished since 1988 and has fished nearly all of Kariba, no small feat as it is a huge body of water. He is about our age, and to spend the afternoon with him is a pleasure. He zips us out to one of his fishing holes (the boat goes 80mph) and we proceed to worm-fish for tilapia. I cannot remember the last time I fished with worms. We haul in fish after fish after fish while we discuss Zimbabwe, retirement, fishing, politics, travel, family and other random subjects that we all know a little something about. The sun sets, the lake is calm, a crocodile swims by, and we untie to head back and 
braii a couple of fresh ones in the dark, South African style. An elephant greets us at the dock. A hippo is in our camp but other than that we are all alone. It’s been a lekker day – that’s South African for good/fine/great/excellent – pronounced with a short e.
Zimbabweans know – you must make a plan. It is the Zimbabwean 
way. The water is out? No electricity? The road is washed away? You will make a plan. Now “a plan” could be plan A or B, or W or X, but you will need to make one. Everyone says it. And yes, the road skirting Harare to the south is not useable. It is time to make a plan. I am driving so Jim directs us and we wing it through narrow dirt roads crowded with school children, past street markets and places that smell really awful, through the suburbs and townships until we manage our way on to a four-lane divided highway, without a scratch and still speaking to each other. That probably wouldn’t have happened three months ago, we’ve some kilometers on us now. We have a plan.
The destination is a bird sanctuary on Lake Chivero. That’s all it says on the paper map, bird sanctuary. 
It deserves more attention than that. Gary Stafford, his wife Elcine, and his son Josh operate Kuimba Shiri Bird Sanctuary where they rehabilitate injured wild birds, raise orphan birds, provide a home for surrendered pet birds such as macaws and cockatoos, and breed birds to return to the wild. When a bird needs rescuing and it is lucky enough to arrive here, it will have a good chance of returning to its proper place. As well, they train birds for stunts in documentary productions and Gary and Josh are both falconers. Gary has been operating Kuimba Shiri for 27 years and he is funny as all get-out.
A big white native Zimbabwean, he shares candid views on the state of the country (“it’s bad”), on travelers driving Land Rovers (“go home and get yourself a proper vehicle!”) and on vegans (“you’re a WHAT??”). While only planning to stay one night, we end up staying three. As usual, we are the only ones in the campsite.
Unmarked on our maps and unmentioned in travel guides, is Lake Chivero Game Park, just across the lake from Kuimba Shiri. A small affair but they have a good population of White rhino. 
These are managed rhinos; they have been dehorned and have identifying cut-outs on their ears. Still they are not easy to find, we finally spot three of them and they entertain us for a couple hours. Back at the bird sanctuary, Gary puts on a demonstration for the public, flying a flashy Black Eagle used in a David Attenborough documentary and a personable Fish Eagle that he has had for 18 years. Then he brings out the two little Marsh Owls and they steal the show. Marsh Owls don’t fly, they hop-walk on the 
ground behind their caregiver and they are adorable. A couple of Shona boys found them and brought them to Gary; he makes it a point to tell the crowd not to be “stupid-sticious” about owls and birds of prey – let’s hope his pleas get through. Dinner that night is at the Admirals Restaurant, run by Micheal Mawema who has returned to Zim from the States to make a go of it with his wife. We all share a quick boat ride out to see the crocodile taking in the sun right in front of the restaurant and enjoy the sunset on the lake.
A donation to the bird food fund is made and we take our leave having had a wonderful time and some good laughs at Lake Chivero.
We arrive at the gate to Matopo National Park, just south of Bulawayo, where the Black and White Rhino are to be found. While I take care of the permit, Jim goes over the craft shop with the ground nuts in hand to get local advice. The proprietor laughs and informs him they are “round nuts” not ground nuts. Duh. She says this is real African food – “you must boil them for at least two hours – or you will be sorry” she tells him. “Then they will pop out of the shell and you have them with coffee”. We leave her with half the kilo, we can’t eat so many. I boil them in the DO, leaving them overnight in the slow cooker. Mashed with avocado on toast, they make a delicious breakfast.
Today Jim is riding shotgun – with an actual rifle across his lap. Shelton the guide is on top of the truck looking for rhino. I am driving, well aware that Shelton could fall off the truck, or the gun could go off. Or both. And while we don’t find the rhino after driving and hiking through the bushveld for hours, we do collect a mass of seed heads and sticky weeds in our socks. Some of these will come home with us no doubt. We’d spotted White Rhino the day before, so we are not getting skunked. There were two adults and a baby, the baby running around just out of camera view and we watched them all by ourselves until they wandered off. Rhinos in the wild, amazing. Matopo Park has another feature – fabulous dolomite rock formations, granite boulders balanced against the sky. These are much easier to spot, believe me.
The hills of the park were sacred long before Cecil Rhodes, who is buried here, bequeathed the land to the government. The landscape is remarkable for its early and middle stone age archaeological finds and for its exquisite cave paintings. Drawings created by San peoples dot the park; they are spectacular, transcending time and place in their beauty and simplicity. San people were hunter/gatherers, moving with the seasons and sheltering in the many rock overhangs and caves. Their artwork was first thought to be “art for art’s sake” but through research and interviews with the remaining San people, it is now believed that the painting were used to teach. At the Pomongwe Cave a small museum contains representations of paintings from some of the inaccessible caves – a brilliant collection. Thembe, the docent, gives us a tour and we stand in awe of giraffes and rhinos and buffalo who seem to race across the cave walls. “These artists were compelled” he says. “They were geniuses in their talent”. To walk to caves and see the drawings is a profound moment on our trip and we see no other people.
We are also the only people camping at the main site for the first two days. There is a solar water heater that works and an entertaining troop of baboons as well as a pair of fish eagles that scream at each other across the lake. I watched as a Giant Kingfisher bashed a small catfish against a tree trunk. I did not know kingfishers did that. A couple from Holland show up late one afternoon as well as a single older white man. Next morning, the Dutch couple take off for Bulawayo and the single guy leaves his tent and table set up and drives away. He never returns. What happened to him? Who knows? We leave word at the park exit, and on we go.
Bound for the Great Zimbabwe Ruins south of Masvingo, we pass through six different police stops. The number plate light which was broken and cost us a $10US fine is now fixed and we are waved through all the cordons. Roads conditions are passable in places and abysmal in others – a sign announces “Road Failure Ahead” and it isn’t kidding. More potholes than road for a long way, with big trucks dodging the potholes and us dodging the big trucks.
This is the center of the center of Zimbabwe, a land of small farms, bushveld, and villages interspersed with bus stops. Along the road people are selling a small dark purple fruit and since we aren’t going anywhere very quickly, I pull over to see about what the fruit is. Fruit sellers come running when we stop. They can’t tell us what the fruit is, they don’t speak much English. Only thing to do is try eating one, after washing it off with our drinking water. I was hoping for a plum or cherry taste, but it was mealy and sour. No one seemed offended that we didn’t purchase any. Wish it had worked out, they were such a pretty color.
Visiting Great Zimbabwe Ruins is a dream come true for me. John Reader, in his book Africa: Biography of the Continent, painted a vivid picture of the stonework walls and the artifacts discovered here – even if you don’t read the entire book, the chapter on Great Zimbabwe is remarkable. Being here is even more remarkable. The ancestors of the Shona people built colossal dry stack enclosures using the readily available granite, with pieces all about the same size. This alone is mind-boggling. The amount of stone touched by human hands is difficult to fathom, every single stone had to be picked up and shaped and placed or filled into the walls. Walls 30 ft high and 6 ft thick, stretching 850 ft in places, some with lovely curves – what did the people building them think? Were they proud – they should have been. How many people worked on them? What did they eat while they worked so hard? A time machine would be nice right about now. The ruins are the fourth largest stone structure, after the Great Wall of China, the Pyramids and Machu Picchu.
And this isn’t the only such site in Zimbabwe, it is just the biggest. Artifacts in the museum include pieces of Chinese pottery and beads found on site as well as the important bird statues the Zimbabweans take great pride in. Looters took the statues in the early 1900s but somehow they have survived to be displayed here for everyone to see.
We are reminded of Chaco Canyon and other Desert Southwest ruins we have seen. Those settlements too fell into disuse, the area around them depleted, about the same time as Great Zimbabwe, half a world away.
Robin’s Camp is on the northern end of Hwange National Park and we are the only campers. Prosper, the enthusiastic National Park employee, explains the park’s accommodations and gives us a tour of fire-lookout building circa 1939. He also shows us this darling Scop’s Owl which we’d have missed without Proper’s pointing it out. That’s the way it is with self-driving, there is no guide to find the animals first and take you to them. So we ask others (assuming there are any other people) and in turn we tell them our sightings. The advantage to self-driving is the thrill of spotting something yourself, and the leisure to spend time with your sightings. No hurrying off to the next lunch or tea appointment. Plus, we get to camp in the wildest places.
At the Guvalava waterhole picnic site, we wait in the Beagle for an elephant to finish drinking before we set up camp. Guvalala is one of the wild(est) camps. No fences, not that a chain linked fence would matter. There’s a nicely-built hide above the waterhole and the afternoon brings a parade of creatures; elephant, baboons, giraffe (fighting over the lone female), zebra, wildebeest, a 100-strong herd of buffalo, impala, kudu, warthog, jackal, and scores of birds. It is chilly so we make soup and take it up to the hide to have dinner. Then the hyenas show up. . .
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