Showing posts with label pomene. Show all posts
Showing posts with label pomene. Show all posts

Sunday, April 23, 2017

Stanley's Travels in Review: Top 13 Camping Spots in Southern Africa

Thunder Bay, April 20

When you're on a long overland trip, camping out of your vehicle, at first you don't pay as much attention to where you're camping as you do to what you see during the day, but over time you start to appreciate the finer points of a campsite that make it just right.  After all, you end up spending a lot of time in and around your campsite, so it's always a bonus if it's a memorably beautiful spot with a great sunset, splendid views, a roaring campfire, a feeling of isolation and no noisy neighbours.  Looking back on Stanley's Travels, I realize that it wasn't until about halfway through the trip that we really started to appreciate some of the incredible places that we got to park Stanley.  I think that on our next loop through Africa, we will try to arrange the trip to spend as much time as possible in beautiful places in the middle of nowhere, enjoying the surroundings, eating well and having sundowners and crackling fires.

I was going to make this a top 10 list, but as I went through the preliminary list, I got to the point where I didn't want to cut out any of these great places to camp, so I made it a baker's dozen of great places to camp instead.


1.  Nsobe Camp, Bangweulu Wetlands--Zambia


In the shade of our own termite mound on the edge of the plains


Cycling through the lechwe herds


Pancakes cooking on an open fire
This inexpensive, isolated campsite was absolutely perfect for us.  After a long, tough slog along a rough track to get there, Nsobe was a wonderful refuge.  On the edge of a huge grassland plain, a number of isolated campsites are each tucked into the shade of a couple of trees growing out of the top of a giant termite mound, the only shelter for miles.  It's pitch-black at night, making for great stargazing, and the staff bring firewood and heat water for showers.  The sites are far enough apart that you're barely aware of other people, while in July, when we were there, distant grass fires make for dramatic sunsets and flickering firelight at night.  You feel as though you're alone in the middle of nowhere, with thousands of black lechwe antelope and thousands of smaller grassland birds all around.  Just 8 km away is the ranger station at Chikuni, where you set off on foot to look for rare shoebills in the papyrus swamps, while wattled and crowned cranes dot the grasslands nearby. It a wonderful place to stay, and it's hard to tear yourself away once you've arrived.


A perfect place to camp!

Smoke-enhanced sunset


2.  Wild Campsite #2, Damaraland--Namibia

Location, location, location

Hardy desert trees
We camped wild a few times in Namibia, Botswana and Zimbabwe, but we really should have done it more often. Damaraland, the strip of semi-desert (karoo) inland from the Skeleton Coast, was perfect for just pulling off the track and finding a spot to set up for the night.  When we return for more adventures in Stanley, Damaraland will likely be the first place we head.  This particular campsite, just off a very rough 4WD track that we followed from Brandberg West to Twyfelfontein, was wonderful.  We stopped atop a small rise that gave sweeping views over the surrounding desert plains.  We were surrounded by rare prehistoric-looking welwitschia plants, and when we walked along the nearby dry riverbed we saw lots of droppings and footprints of desert-dwelling black rhinos, although we didn't spot the animals themselves.  There was a sense of complete middle-of-nowhere-ness that was exactly what we wanted.  Although we weren't that far off the track, there is only about one vehicle a day using that track, and we saw no other humans for a day and a half.  Sitting around a flickering campfire watching satellites and meteors moving across the Milky Way was an unforgettable experience.

Late afternoon light on the nearby hills

3.  Ngepi Camp, Campsite #22--Namibia


Another perfect view over the Kavango River

Great road sign
This was a place that we loved so much the first time that we came back again a second time.  The Kavango River in the Caprivi Strip of northeastern Namibia is an idyllic place to sit back and watch the river flow, maybe with a fishing line in the river or with a birdwatching guidebook in your lap. There are a lot of campsites along the river, both on the Namibian and the Botswanan side of the border, and I'm sure a lot of them are fairly similar in terms of views, isolation and beauty, but Ngepi really won a special place in our hearts.  The people that run the place are exceptionally friendly, funny and efficient, and the hilarious signs all around the camp are worth searching out.  The particular campsite that we took the second time we stayed there, #22, is the furthest from the main lodge and as a result is the quietest and most isolated.  You hear hippos grunting and splashing in the river nearby (and out on the grass at night, once you're in bed), and elephants and leopards calling from across the river in the national park.  The firepits are well-made, and the views out over the Kavango are fabulous.  The entire property is a birdwatcher's dream, with dozens of species skulking in the bush or splashing around in the river.  The campsites are pretty widely separated, particularly as you get towards #22, and the overland trucks which are the mainstay of Ngepi's business model are all housed at the other end of the camp, so that you barely notice their presence.  It was such a peaceful, beautiful, restful place that we chose it for our last destination of the trip in March, 2017. I'm sure we'll be back again in the future!

Note:  Since my camera gear had been stolen by this point, the photos here come from other sources: one from Alli's Excellent Adventures, and the other from Angel and Quail on Trail.

4.  Kapishya Hot Springs--Zambia


Hot spring perfection!
This is another oasis in the wilds of northern Zambia that was hard to tear ourselves away from.  We stayed there for three nights and could easily have stayed longer.  The big attraction is, of course, the hot springs, a big rustic pool with hot water bubbling up through the sandy bottom.  We spent hours relaxing there under the forest canopy, watching kingfishers darting along the river.  The grounds make for great birdwatching, and there is lovely walking to be done in the bush that surrounds the lodge.  The campsite is quite removed from the lodge and wasn't at all busy when we were there, so we felt more or less on our own.  Great views out over the river, lots of firewood to stoke up a campfire, and a feeling of peace and tranquility that is very seductive.

It was impossible to drag Terri out of the water!


5.  Kori Campsite #3, CKGR--Botswana


A rather comical slender mongoose

Birds lured in by our portable bird watertrough
The southern parks in Botswana (the Central Kalahari Game Reserve and the Kgalagadi Transfrontier Park) are amazing places and not much visited compared to the parks in the north of the country.  The Botswana DWNP have done a great job of providing a relatively small number of very isolated rustic campsites (the only facilities are a firepit and a long-drop toilet) out in the middle of nowhere, with no fences separating you from the animals.  Kori Campsite, in the Deception Valley, was absolutely perfect; with the nearest campsite at least half a kilometre away, you're not really aware of other people.  There's plenty of game around, just over the track in the grasslands of a nearby pan:  big kori bustards and secretarybirds, playful bat-eared foxes and jackals, lots of springbok and gemsbok.  Right in the campsite there are slender mongooses and plenty of birdlife, including playful yellow-billed hornbills.  It really feels like being a San hunter-gatherer as you sit around your flickering campfire under the stars, listening to the yips of jackals and hyenas in the night.  Most of the campsites in the CKGR and the Botswanan side of the KTP are similar, and it's worth putting in the effort ahead of time to try to book these sites for some unforgettable nights out in these arid Edens.

Terri loving our pre-dinner stroll across the grasslands

6.  Pomene Lodge Campground--Mozambique

Setting up camp

Flamingoes in the lagoon
Perfect view out towards the beach
We had heard of Pomene for years before our trip, as it was the subject of a nature documentary that we saw on TV when we were living in Switzerland.  We were almost talked out of going there by travellers who said that it wasn't worth the long sandy drive, but we decided in the end to go.  We were very glad that we went, as it was a superb place.  Out at the end of a 60-kilometre sand track that needed our tires deflated almost to zero, Pomene Lodge is located at the end of a sandy spit lying between the Indian Ocean on one side and a beautiful lagoon on the other.  Our campsite looked out towards the ocean, out of which we watched a full moon rise, and a brief stroll brought us out to a perfect sunset-viewing spot looking west over the lagoon.  There were hardly any other campers around, and it was quiet, peaceful and very beautiful.  Every morning women from the local village would walk by with fresh fruit (including amazing passion fruit), bread and fish for us to buy.  We rented sea kayaks from the lodge and had a wonderful paddle across the lagoon and up a forest-lined river.  There was great birdwatching, with flamingoes in the lagoon, and we spotted dolphins frolicking in the lagoon mouth a couple of times.  A long but beautiful hike down the beach gets you to the old ruined Portuguese-era hotel at the point, and (more to the point) the amazing blowholes.  Well worth the trudge.  All in all, it was a very elemental, naturally stunning setting, and we would gladly have spent more time camped at Pomene if we hadn't run out of money (they only take cash at the lodge).  
Ho hum; another perfect sunset

7.  Leeupan Bush Camp--South Africa


Nice setting for Stanley 

Sociable weaver nest complex
This place occupies a special place in our hearts.  We first heard of it in October from a fellow camper in Upington, Northern Cape, South Africa.  We had passed it by as we left Botswana and entered South Africa, and we were too lazy to drive back north to visit it.  It remained on our mental radar, though, and when we beat a retreat from persistent rainy weather in January, we took a detour into the middle of nowhere specifically to camp at Leeupan, and ended up staying three wonderful nights.

Leeupan is located close to the Botswana border, not far from the village of Van Zylsrus, right in the heart of the South African section of the Kalahari.  The landscape consists of a series of red sand dunes running parallel to each other, covered with typical African bush vegetation.  The campsite is on the other side of the main gravel road from the Leeupan farm, and so it's very, very quiet.  There are some basic facilities (flush toilets, showers), but the main appeal is the isolation, the wildlife and the stars at night.  When we were there it was pretty hot during the day, and Terri escaped from the heat by soaking in the "swimming pool", which was really the water reservoir but which served the purpose of cooling us off.  The sunsets were spectacular, and there was plenty of firewood around to stoke up a decent-sized blaze every night.  The evening temperatures dropped to a very pleasant cool, and we sat out every night beside the fire watching for satellites passing overhead and for eyes glinting in the night on the ground, as nocturnal grazers (mostly springbok, but also a springhaas) came in for water at the little drinking trough that the owners have set up.  It was a perfect temperature to sleep at night with our roof hatch open, letting the stars and the moon bathe our faces with a faint glow.

Ooh La La cooling her belly
There were lots of leopard tortoises and birds to be seen, including a very impressive sociable weaver nest complex, but the unique feature of Leeupan that had us driving a couple of hundred kilometres out of our way is that it's next to the Kalahari Meerkat Project property.  These are the meerkats featured in the nature documentary series Meerkat Manor, and Leeupan was the only place that we saw these ridiculously cute social mongooses in the wild. We talked to Lorraine, the very friendly owner, and told her that we were eager to see meerkats.  She talked to her farm workers, and they indicated the vague area that they had last seen the meerkats.  We went for a stroll in the late afternoon and suddenly there were a dozen meerkats under the leadership of the indomitable Ooh La Laa scuttling around energetically, frantically digging into the sand in search of scorpions and crickets to eat.  We stood and watched them for a good long while until one of the Kalahari Meerkat Project volunteers came around to do her evening behavioural observations and we had to leave.  It was a special encounter and was the icing on the cake of a beautiful camping spot.

We love meerkats!

8.  Bruintjieskraal Campsite #12, Baviaanskloof--South Africa



Not a bad place to park
We stayed here for only one night, as we were in a hurry to escape rain and get up towards the Kalahari and Namibia.  It was, however, an incredibly beautiful isolated campsite with a swimming hole and fishing spot right next to the vehicle.  There is a covered private kitchen area that would be useful when the weather is poor, and an excellent private ablution block.  There are a number of campsites spread along the length of the river, but #12 is by far the largest and most isolated; we couldn't hear or see any of the other guests in this popular weekend retreat from Port Elizabeth.  The scenery is very pretty, as the campsite is set in a narrow gorge (a kloof, in Afrikaans; hence the name). It's also a good base for hiking and mountain biking.  It's certainly a place that we would go back to if we found ourselves in that corner of South Africa again.

Morning view from our campsite

9.  Pontoon Camp, Kasanka National Park--Zambia

The campsite attendants stoking up our fires

We were out of cooking gas, so we used the open fire
Pontoon Camp is a beautiful spot in lovely Kasanka National Park.  It's right on the edge of a marsh lined with dense papyrus reeds, into and out of which slip the normally shy sitatunga which are the most aquatic of the antelope family.  Every morning and evening they would make an appearance, coming out onto the grass to graze.  There were lots of waterbirds as well, particularly the coppery-tailed coucal and the African jacana.  The campsite is in the middle of absolutely nowhere, and there are only 3 spots, each with its own showers and toilets and fire pits, widely enough spaced that you don't really notice your neighbours.  It's very quiet and the night is full of owls, bats and spiders whose eyes sparkle in your flashlight beam.  The campground has a couple of attendants who kindle fires, heat the water for showers and generally take care of you hand and foot.  Highly recommended.

Sitatunga buck

10.  Otjiwa Lodge, (Campsite #10)--Namibia


Simple, clean and rustic--the way we like it!


This was another place we liked so much that we came back a second time.  It's only about 2 hours north of Windhoek, and we stayed here a couple of times when returning to the city.  Otjiwa is a private game reserve with a fancy lodge but also 10 well-maintained campsites.  We stayed both times in campsite 10, the one furthest from the lodge and other campers, and it was magical.  There's great bush for walking, lots of birds and a feeling that you're much further away from civilization than you really are.  Both nights we stayed here we had great braais (barbecues) over the campfire and sat out under the stars in perfect contentment.  We don't have any photos that I took here, so I lifted a couple of photos from the Otjiwa website and from madbookings.com

Very secluded campsites nestled in the bush



11.  Khami Ruins Campsite--Zimbabwe


Lovely location under the trees

We stayed here almost by accident.  We had planned to visit Khami, some of the most atmospheric historical ruins in Africa, but when we got there, we saw what looked like a perfect place to camp at a little picnic site.  We asked at the site office and it turned out it was set up for camping, despite the lack of a sign.  It turned out to be a wonderful spot, very atmospheric, under the canopy of some towering trees.  I love camping at historic spots, and we were right between two sets of stone ruins.  We climbed up the hill to one set of ruins to watch a full moon rise, and it was absolutely breathtaking.  


Sunset serenade atop the ruins

12.  Elephant Sands--Botswana

The cottages have a great view over the waterhole


Up close and personal

We ended up spending only one night here, blundering in after dark, guided by our GPS to the nearest campground.  It turned out to be a serendipitous jackpot of a choice.  The campground is very atmospheric, popular with overland groups.  It's built around a big waterhole popular with elephants who wander in at all hours, day and night, to have a drink.  The elephants wander right between the vehicles and tents and buildings and seem completely unconcerned about humans being present.  The bar/restaurant area is a perfect place to sit and watch the elephants drinking, wallowing in mud and doing pachyderm stuff.  It would be great to go back there and spend a couple of days just hanging out with the elephants.






13.  Chelinda Campsite, Nyika Plateau--Malawi


Sitting around our campfire

Terri trying to charm the passing elands into posing for a photo
This remote campsite, high up (almost 2000 metres above sea level) is in a very pretty area. The campsites each have a roofed structure to spread out in on rainy days, and have fabulous views out over the plateau.  Eland, bushbuck, reedbuck, zebra and roan antelope all wander by the campsite, and the bushbuck were right beside Stanley when we woke up.  The campsite staff light campfires before dawn and before sunset, and they're necessary to take the edge off the mountain chill.  Lovely hiking and cycling around the campsite, with lots of animals to see, particularly herds of roan, the loveliest of antelope.


Bushbuck in our campsite

I think the remoteness and wilderness in a country like Malawi where overpopulation presses against you more visibly than in the rest of southern Africa is a welcome relief.  As well the mix of cold and wildlife is unusual for most of Africa and is something special.  I am a big fan of the Nyika Plateau.


Elands passing by the campsite

Wednesday, June 8, 2016

Five Beaches and a Lake: Stanley in Mozambique, Land of the Sunbird

Sabie, South Africa, June 8, 2016

It always seems to take much longer than it should to get around to distilling experiences into blog posts.  The essence of blogging should be its immediacy and speed, and yet it seems to take me a few weeks (or even months) to get around to it.  I’d like to claim that it’s because it takes that long to ruminate on events and assess their significance, beauty and interest, but that would be a lie.  Mostly it’s that I don’t get around to it because I have other things (usually further travel) occupying my time and my mental phase space.  We left Mozambique 9 days ago, and we’ve been in a bit of a holding pattern, but I still am only getting around to writing about our wonderful two weeks in that unfortunate country now that it’s a grey day and we’ve done the hiking that we wanted to do in this area.
Waves coming into Pomene

I had been looking forward to visiting Mozambique for years.  I had heard about its lovely beaches and its historic remnants from other travellers and from friends who had worked in the country.  I heard that it was rebuilding after its brutal years of independence struggle and subsequent civil war, and that it was an optimistic place.  Looking through the Lonely Planet, it sounded as though there was a lot to see throughout the immense length of the country, and we planned to drive Stanley north, at least as far as the main border crossing into Zimbabwe, preferably as far as the Malawi border, and maybe as far north as the Quirimba Archipelago, about which I had heard great things.  Unfortunately while we were in Johannesburg in early April, having brunch with Erin Conway-Smith, fellow ex-Thunder Bay-ite and current Economist correspondent for southern Africa, she told Terri and me that things were rapidly falling apart in Mozambique, with Renamo, the losing side in the civil war, having walked out of government over its demands to rule the northern provinces of the country.  There were reports of frequent shooting attacks on traffic on the EN1, the main north-south highway of the country, carried out by Renamo, and of government retaliation against civilians in the Gorongosa and Manica provinces where Renamo’s centre of support is.  In an article in the Global Post, Erin wrote about the very real dangers of the civil war kicking off again, and urged us to be careful and keep ourselves informed about the current state of play in the country.  I subscribed to a couple of newletters and Twitter newsfeeds on the country, including the excellent Zenaida Machado (a Mozambican journalist) and as we travelled through Kruger, I would follow developments in the country, none of which looked good.  Hidden debts used to fund useless tuna trawlers and line officials’ pockets; imminent default on the country’s foreign debt; the IMF and Western countries cutting off financial support; more shootings; mass graves in Gorongosa.  We set off for Mozambique already thinking that we might not be able to venture beyond the beautiful beaches of the south, firmly held by the Frelimo government and out of range of the Kalashnikovs of Renamo.

On the dusty road through Limpopo Park

We entered Mozambique on Thursday, May 12th, at Giriyondo border post.  This is one of the most soporific border crossings imaginable.  We arrived at 8:05, just as they opened for business, and crossed relatively quickly, although not painlessly.  We were the first vehicle to enter Mozambique there that day; we heard later that in total three vehicles crossed all day.  The South African side was relatively quick, while the Mozambican side was a bit more leisurely.  We regretted not doing our homework and reading up on visas in more detail.  Mozambique issues 30-day single-entry visas at the border, but the prices vary wildly depending on the currency in which you pay.  In Mozambican meticais, the price is Mt 2085, or a little under US$ 40.  If you pay in South African rand, the price is R 785, which is about US$ 52 at current exchange rates.  If, however, like us you want to pay in US dollars, it’s US$ 90 per person, which is an outrageous markup.  We scrounged together enough rand to buy one visa, then swallowed the loss and bought the other in dollars, muttering under our breaths.  Perhaps the visa prices (which were on an old printed list) were set when the rand and the metical had not yet fallen off a currency cliff.

Terri at Fish Eagle Camp
We drove along a reasonable dirt track for the next hour and a half to get to Campismo Aguia Pesqueira (Fish Eagle Camp), through the Parque Nacional de Limpopo.  In theory Kruger, Gonarezhou National Park in Zimbabwe and Limpopo Park in Mozambique should form a single tri-national wildlife safety zone that is one of the biggest wildlife reserves in southern Africa.  In practice, Limpopo is almost bereft of wildlife, its elephants and lions poached long ago.  We drove through scrubby forest very similar to the bush on the South African side, and yet we saw barely a single animal, other than a snake, a handful of zebra and a few impala.  It was sad; there were barely even any birds.  Despite Kruger’s relative lack of visible game, it was still the Garden of Eden in comparison with Limpopo.

Fish Eagle Camp sunset over Massangir Dam
We pulled into Fish Eagle Camp around noon and instantly fell in love.  It’s a wonderfully situated campsite, high above the waters of the Massangir Dam, and the campsite itself is well appointed, with nice bathrooms and braai pits.  We found a great spot with a particularly good angle for sunset and settled in.  We did some exercises, then went for a stroll down to the shore of the reservoir.  As we returned for sunset, another 4x4 camper drove up and picked the campsite next to ours, doubling the number of inhabitants of this idyllic spot.  It was a German couple, Edith and Marcel, in a camper that they had rented in South Africa.  We watched the  wonderfully coloured sunset together and, after an excellent dinner of steaks grilled on the braai, we had them over for whisky and Amarula and stories.  They had wanted to do a similar trip to ours a few years ago but had been put off by the hassle and paperwork involved in buying a vehicle in South Africa, so they were interested in how we had managed it.  In the dark we could see the fires of the local villagers who were cultivating maize and running cattle in the bush near the water; between farming and fishing, it’s not that surprising that there aren’t many wild animals to be seen around the park, other than a few beautiful fish eagles soaring high overhead.

The next morning we waved goodbye to Marcel and Edith as we made an early getaway after our usual feast of oatmeal and fruit a la Terri.  We drove out over 20 km of fairly awful track before we left the park and turned unexpectedly onto asphalt.  Our map had shown dirt roads all the way to the coast, so it was a pleasant surprise.  We crossed the massive dam wall, then turned into the small town of Massangir, where we got money out of an ATM (no more miserable exchange rates for dollars for us!), bought a SIM card, had a bite to eat and tried (unsuccessfully) to buy third-party car insurance (compulsory in Mozambique) with the help of a friendly local guy, Artur, who worked for the national park as an agricultural extension officer.  Marcel and Edith drove by and headed off towards the coast.  We drove as far as Chokwe along a new, smooth, empty asphalt road.  Chokwe was a substantial town, full of banks and shops and offices, so we got more money from an ATM, had a splendid lunch and eventually found an insurance guy who sold us a month’s third party insurance for MT 660 (about US$ 12).  I was having fun trying to speak Portuguese, a language I don’t know.  I basically spoke Spanish, trying to put on a Portuguese-sounding accent, and hoped for the best, and often it worked.

Chidenguele dawn
The drive to Chidenguele was long, made longer by the horrible state of the road after Chokwe.  The next 40 km were paved road that was in such a potholed state that it was much worse than a dirt road would have been.  Lots of slaloming between craters, driving beside the road and (finally) a detour onto a parallel dirt road that was both a lot better for driving and a lot more scenic than the ruined highway.  Progress was slow, made slower by our fear of being pulled over by the traffic police.  South African tourists are a big target for the traffic cops, who patrol the speed zones around towns (80 km/h on the outskirts, 60 km/h in the town, with the signs frequently missing) and insist that you were speeding and show an old, stored speed gun reading to back up their claim.  We drove with exaggerated caution past Chibuto and down to the coastal road as darkness fell around us.  We finally hit the main EN1 road just east of Xai Xai and continued another 50 km to the Chidenguele turnoff, where we drove another 4 km down increasingly sandy tracks to reach the idyllic Sunset Beach Resort, where we found Marcel and Edith already established.  They had arrived an hour before us but had been pulled over for speeding along the way, only escaping by genuinely not having a single metical to their name to pay the fine.  The campsite was very nice, with individual bathroom/dishwashing huts and great shade trees.  We slept well after a great fish dinner in the restaurant.

Graydon on the beach at Chidenguele
In the morning, we woke up early with the small, noisy child in the campsite opposite ours, and went up to the restaurant to watch the sunrise.  It was our first view of the Mozambique coast, and it lived up to its billing.  We were above the beach, perched on a sand dune, and the surf of the waves provided a great backdrop of white noise.  We went for a brief walk along the beach before breakfast, then ate in the restaurant before taking a much longer stroll along the completely deserted beach for a couple of hours.  White-fronted plovers and crabs were the only other creatures taking a stroll along the golden sands, and it was a relief after so many days cooped up in the car in Kruger to walk for so long with the wet sand beneath our toes.  When we got back I went out for a run along the road we had driven the night before, as far as a lagoon where fishermen were casting their nets and locals were filling up water jugs.  Back at Sunset Beach we took a dip in the swimming pool, did some yoga, had a luxurious late lunch overlooking the beach  and then bought a freshly spearfished snapper from a local guy who was selling fish to the restaurant.  We cooked it up on the braai, the first of a number of memorable home-cooked seafood dinners in Mozambique.
Terri on the beach at Chidenguele


We had a lazy morning the next day, doing yoga, juggling, lazing over breakfast, and didn’t even start driving until 10 am.  Terri was at the wheel when we had two encounters with traffic cops keen to shake us down, but since we were nowhere near the speed limit, Terri managed to talk our way through both speed traps.  We switched drivers and I was at the wheel as we turned off EN 1 at Lindela for the long trundle towards Inhambane.  We had decided to stay in Paindane, about which we had heard good things, and everything went well until the last 5 km.  The track had been getting sandier and sandier, and suddenly we were stuck in deep sand.  We engaged our 4WD and then got out of the first sand trap, deciding to take another road around.  We got stuck on that one too, and local kids and adults helped push us out, but it was tough going.  What we should have done, and didn’t because we weren’t aware of how much a difference it makes, was to let most of the air out of our tires, all the way down to 1.0 or even 0.8 bar, to greatly increase the contact area of the tire with the sand and “float” us better, rather like fat skis in powder snow.  We continued spinning our way furiously, followed by a small battalion of excited kids who knew that they would be digging us out again soon.  I managed to get us to within 100 metres of our destination before finally and definitively getting mired in sand so deeply that our wheels could no longer even spin, as our differential was buried in the sand.  We dug and dug and dug, using the spade that came with Stanley, but were unable to get out. 
The lagoon at Inhassiro


I walked up the road to the Paindane Resort and to the neighbouring resort in search of a vehicle that might be able to pull us out of the sand.  Paindane Resort was all but deserted, with only a security guard on hand, but Vossie, a South African dive instructor, was at the neighbouring resort and came to our rescue.  He asked why we hadn’t deflated our tires properly (a fair question), deflated them all to 0.8 bar and then tried unsuccessfully to pull us out.  As it turned out, his tires weren’t properly deflated on his Land Cruiser and his Hi-Lift jack wasn’t working, so he retreated in search of replacement parts for the jack.  In the meantime I had been digging, along with the team of local kids and an adult, and we had managed to free the diff from the sand.  Putting the vehicle in low-range 4WD I was able to free myself from the sand just as Vossie returned.  We drove Stanley over the sand into Paindane Resort, managed to get the security guard to agree to let us camp outside a cottage (we were the only guests of the entire resort) and cooked up dinner (a fish curry, using the leftover snapper from the night before).  It was a spectacular spot to camp, high up above the ocean, and we slept well.
Lobster lunch at Paindane


Having expended so much effort to get to Paindane, we weren’t keen to leave too soon, so we spent a couple of days there.  On the first day we had a local spear-fisherman, Peter, drop by and ask if we wanted him to catch us any fish.  We agreed to take some lobster, and by lunchtime he was back with 9 lobsters; we had 4 for lunch and kept 5 for later consumption.  We lunched magnificently looking out over the bay and the fringing reef, and then dropped by Vossie’s resort (20 metres behind where we were staying) to see about going diving the next day.  We agreed to go as he promised dragon moray eels (something I had never seen before) and gave us a very reasonable price (290 rand for a dive, plus 220 rand for gear rental, for a total of US$ 34 if we did one dive or US$ 53 if we did two).  We then went for a long walk along the beach north towards adjacent Guinjata Beach in search of a supermarket.  It was a beautiful walk, with lots of shells and crabs to distract our attention and great light.  Taurus supermarket, tucked into a bay full of South African holiday homes and a couple of big resorts (Jeff’s and Guinjata Bay) was full of imported South African goodies at inflated prices, but we were low on supplies and had no choice but to stock up there.  We had great sunset light on the walk back, and supped magnificently on leftover fish curry.

Paindane
In the night the wind changed direction and started blowing hard from the southeast, rattling the canvas tent sides of Stanley.  We woke up to a windy morning and a building swell.  We walked up to Vossie’s and suited up for a dive.  His dive shop was well-appointed and he seemed to be a very experienced and competent dive instructor.  We drove down to the launching point on the beach, climbed aboard the rigid-bottomed Zodiac and headed out into the sea.  Our dive site, Dragon’s Ledge, was beyond the shelter of the fringing reef that protects Paindane Beach, and it was pretty rough water by the time we dropped overboard.  We did a negative entry, dropping immediately below the surface swell.  The wind shift had changed the currents and we ended up fighting current for much of the dive, meaning that I sucked my air down faster than usual.  We had a good dive:  the dragon morays were there, along with more usual marble morays in some profusion, all attracted to a cleaning station where legions of cleaner shrimp serviced them.  We missed a turtle on the initial descent (Vossie saw him, but we weren’t fast enough to turn our heads before he vanished into the distance) but had a number of pipefish, lionfish and two rays, one an electric ray and the other a very large blotched ray, to feast our eyes on.  The coral was nothing special, and we did our safety stop out in the blue, but it was still an interesting dive, my first in nearly 2 years (since Indonesia in August, 2014).  We surfaced to even bigger waves, and decided against a second dive in the worsening conditions.  We beached the boat on the sand in a crazy James Bond-esque manoeuvre that had us holding onto the side ropes for dear life with our toes tucked into floor straps as Vossie gunned the engine at full throttle to hurl us clear of the surf.  I have never landed on a beach like that, and would be happy never to do it again.  We sat around at the resort afterwards chatting with Vossie about his 9 years in Mozambique, the local attitude toward conservation (complete disdain), the fate of dugongs and manta rays (eaten for food; there aren’t any in the area anymore), the malign influence of China in Mozambique, the deteriorating security situation with Renamo, and the perils of not treating coral cuts immediately.

Terri at Paindane
We went back to our deserted resort and had another massive lobster feast before I went out for a run in the dunes.  It was really hard work running through the soft sand, and I returned with tired legs.  Having lunched so magnificently, we settled for a toast and soup supper and an early night.

In the morning we packed up to leave, but not before the resort manager finally made an appearance to collect money for our stay.  Paindane, like much of the Mozambique coast, is full of resorts that have either closed or are barely ticking over.  All the tourists come from South Africa and outside of major school holiday times, there are very few South Africans coming to Mozambique.  Apparently tourist numbers have been declining for a couple of years with a worsening economic outlook in South Africa, but xenophobic riots in South Africa last year in which a Mozambican man was lynched by a mob led to a mass exodus of South Africans from Mozambique and a plunge in tourist numbers.  Mozambique has a lot to offer, with long stretches of unspoiled coastline, but South Africans are reluctant to come to a place that is falling apart politically and where they feel unsafe.  Paindane Resort was apparently only open during major holiday times, and was basically closed when we arrived, although they were happy to take our money.  Peter the spear-fisherman showed up with some freshly caught snapper and, after some negotiation, we agreed a price for four fish weighing in at a total of 3.5 kg, which we tossed into our refrigerator.

Terri at Morrungulo
We set off towards Morrungulo, described to us as the nicest campsite on the Mozambican coast.  Terri drove us out across the sands; with the tires deflated, it was relatively easy and even rather fun to drive, a complete contrast to our dismal arrival.  We got out to the main gravel road and used the small air compressor that Etienne, the previous owner, had bought for Stanley to re-inflate our tires to road pressures; we were glad for Etienne’s meticulous care in equipping the vehicle for all possibilities.  In the town of Maxixe, back on EN1, we stopped for an ATM and to get Vodacom to get my cellular data service to work on my (not so-) smartphone.  It took the young woman a while to figure out the problem, but eventually I had a working data connection.  
Terri making friends at Massinga market
We drove off north towards Morrongulo, stopping in Massinga for fresh vegetables before we turned off the road for the beach.  This road was hard-packed and such easy driving that we didn’t have to deflate tires or even engage 4WD.  The campground is in a faded colonial-era resort that is slightly overpriced and slightly rule-bound, but situated in an absolutely lovely shady garden that fronts directly onto the ocean.  I raced out to swim in the surf, although the fierce longshore current made bodysurfing tricky.  
White-fronted plover, Morrungulo
We chatted with James and Barbara, the Zimbabwean couple who have run the place for years, and with Harry, their son, an engineering graduate who has returned to help run the place.  Terri cooked up a feast of breaded snapper fillets and we went to bed with full stomachs, happy with the loveliness of the area.

Our day off in Morrongulo was pretty idyllic.  After a lingering big breakfast, we went for a long walk along the beach, then put on our running shoes and went for a run.  We passed other, almost-deserted resorts like Sylvia Shoal, as well as armies of pink crabs that ran away into the surf on our approach.  After doing some yoga, we went for a swim, then tried out our folding Giant Expressway bicycles for the first time.  It wasn’t ideal conditions, with soft sand on the road playing havoc with our bike tires, but it was still good to get out and ride a bit, past a few tiny bakeries in the village and past newly-built houses set in banana, coconut and cashew plantations.  It was all rather idyllic.  Another feast of snapper fillets and we were in bed early to escape the searching south-easterly wind that hadn’t died down in two days.
Multilingual but bread-less bakery, Morrungulo

We were reluctant to leave the beauty of Morrongulo, but talking to other campers there we had heard that Pomene, which had been on our wish list for ever since watching a nature documentary set there, was well worth the long sandy detour involved in getting there.  We stocked up on food back in Massinga and then turned off for the 57 kilometres of dirt roads and sand dunes that separated us from Pomene.   It was an easy drive until we entered the Pomene Nature Reserve and ran into deep sand.  We were wise enough this time to deflate our tires and had no difficulty, other than believing in our GPS, in arriving at Pomene Lodge, easily the loveliest place we stayed in all of Mozambique.  The lodge is located on a narrow spit of sand between the Indian Ocean and a saltwater lagoon, and we put Stanley in the shelter of some trees with a view out towards the ocean.  Jorge, the friendly Mozambican man at the front desk, was a fount of information and sent us out towards the tip of the sand spit to watch the sunset and look for flamingoes.  Both quests were successful:  the sun set over the retreating waters of the lagoon in a pleasingly beautiful lightshow, while a group of several dozen flamingoes posed for us in the lagoon.  We even had the bonus of seeing a humpback lagoon surfacing periodically as he hunted for fish.  As we walked back to Stanley, plovers and crabs scuttled along the sand.  The nearly-full moon rose out of the ocean in a fiery orange ball, and we went to bed satisfied.
Stanley on the beach, Pomene


The next day the weather had become even windier, stirring up a steady swell.  We walked along the beach for a wonderful hour, past a myriad plovers and salmon-pink crabs and a handful of local villagers, to the ruins of the Portuguese-era Pomene Hotel.  We strolled around the headland to the bay tucked around behind, looking for the blowholes that start up at high tide.  We waited for a couple of hours, but the blowholes never really got going.  The scenery made up for it, though, with big swells surging into the sheltered rock pool through a narrow keyhole gap in the rocks and colourful crabs scuttling across the limestone rocks.  After a while, with the sun sinking in the western sky, we gave up on blowholes and walked back to Pomene Lodge along the sandy track we had driven on the day before.  We passed through the fishing village of Pomene and looked in vain for anyone selling fresh fish.  
Pomene flamingoes
On a tip from Andre and Carien, two South Africans we had met in Morrongulo, we asked around for Doc, a local woodcarver.  He wasn’t at his stand, but we were directed to his house in the village.  We arranged for him to cook us a feast of big mangrove crabs the next day and then continued our walk back to the lodge, with sunbirds accompanying us along the way in the bush.  The sunset was just as beautiful as the day before, and the full moon rising over the ocean, an hour later, was spectacular.  We cooked chicken on the braai (in the absence of fish), watched the moon light up the ocean and basked in the natural beauty of the place, glad that we had come to Pomene.
Tree art, Pomene

Pomene pink crabs
Sunday, May 22nd we awoke to local women strolling by to sell avocadoes, passion fruit, fresh bread and oranges.  We got up, had a breakfast of toast, tomatoes and avocadoes, then rented a sea kayak for the day for US$ 12 and went out for a paddle on the lagoon.  The tide was going out, and it was hard work paddling upstream against the tidal current.  The lagoon was rapidly becoming shallower, and finding deepwater channels became challenging.  There were birds everywhere:  distant flamingoes, cormorants and egrets up close, pied kingfishers hovering over the water to pounce on fish.  The mangrove swamps lining the edges of the estuary teemed with crabs and birds, and everywhere villagers were out casting nets and gathering some of the abundant shellfish.  
Sand art, Pomene
We made our way as far upstream as we could before the stream petered out into mudflats and oxbow lakes.  We drifted back with the current and made it back to Pomene Lodge in time for a quick swim and a long run along the beach before setting off for our late crab lunch.  We stopped by Doc’s place and then were directed to his father’s restaurant.  His father is chief of the village and is clearly the wealthiest guy in town.  Doc eventually appeared with a huge platter of rice and crab stewed in coconut milk and we sated ourselves.  It was interesting to get into the village and see how life outside our idyllic campground worked; mostly, Doc’s father and his friends sat around watching Premier League football while his sister-in-law served us food.  Kids kicked around ragged footballs and steered elaborate handmade metal toy cars around the streets.  As we drove back to the lodge, we passed neatly tended huts and compounds with fish being smoked over fires.  The sunset that evening surpassed the previous two, as did the moonrise.  I sat playing guitar on the beach, and it was hard to believe that we were ever going to want to leave Pomene.
At the old hotel, Pomene

Smoking fish in Pomene

Pomene sunset
Sadly, the next morning saw us leaving.  We hadn’t arrived with very much cash, and the lodge didn’t accept credit cards, so we were out of money until we got back to the main road.  On the way out of the lodge, we had a couple of baby plovers running like mad along the sand in front of Stanley, waving their tiny stubby wings madly.  We stopped and waited for them to get out of the wheel ruts, but the chicks, only a few days old, weren’t strong enough to climb up out of the tracks and into the surrounding bush for several minutes.  It was a long sandy slog out of Pomene on partly deflated tires, along a track chewed up by people trying to drive on fully inflated tires, and just after leaving the nature reserve we pulled out the compressor again and reinflated the tires.  We made it back to EN1 and turned north.  It was an uneventful drive to Vilanculos, an actual beach town, and our first couple of stops were for cash and to refill the diesel tanks.  We looked around for a place to stay, but weren’t terribly impressed by the lodgings in town and couldn’t find anything north of town.

Pomene sunset
We ended up driving south of town, following a ridiculous route plotted by our GPS, to the Blue Water Lodge.  We arrived there not long before sundown to find it had closed for business months before.  Luckily the caretaker wasn’t averse to us camping there for a consideration that went directly into her pocket.  The initial asking price was Mtc 1000 (US$ 20) for one night without any power or water.  We bargained that down to the same price for three nights, then sat beside the empty swimming pool gazing out to sea, sipping a sundowner and watching fishing dhows returning to shore from the islands of the Bazaruto Archipelago.  We headed down to the beach and, in my miserable pidgin Portuguese, managed to buy a couple of decent-sized snappers from one incoming boat for a great price of Mtc 200, far cheaper than we had paid in Chidenguele or Paindane.  We cooked the larger one on the braai, watched the moon rise over the bay, thinking about the slightly melancholic feeling of being in a closed-down resort.   It was yet another reminder of the decline of the Mozambique tourism industry. 
Re-inflating the tires on the road out of Pomene

We spent two lovely days in Vilanculos.  The first day we slept in, had another big oatmeal and fruit breakfast and then spent time doing yoga and going for a long run on the beach at low tide, when it looked almost as though we could walk all the way out to the islands of the archipelago, ten kilometres offshore.  We lunched on toast, tomatoes and avocadoes and then drove into town to fill up our water tank, buy some groceries and see about a boat trip out to the islands.  We ended up booking a snorkelling trip with Dolphin Dhow Safaris, run by the grandson of an Indian immigrant who lamented the fall in tourist numbers which had led to him cutting back from eight boats to two, laying off most of his employees.  We returned to Blue Water to cook up a delicious fish and coconut curry after watching a dramatic sunset light show in the sky. 
Vilankulo fish braai

The day of our boat trip dawned sunny and cloudless.  We made our way to Dolphin Dhow and set off in a dhow, sadly under motor power and not under sail, with an Irishman, Paul, and a Kiwi woman, Jacqui, probably the only two real backpackers in Vilanculos.  It was fun to sit and chat about our various travel experiences and to watch the light flash green over the sandy shallows.  We watched keen-eyed for signs of dugongs, found in the area, but had no luck; we probably needed to head out further towards the fringing reef to have had a more realistic chance of spotting them.  We landed on tiny Macaruque Island and spent a few hours walking the dunes, watching the cormorants and crabs and snorkelling in the lagoon.  
Macaruque Island sea colours
The sky clouded over and a few spits of rain came down, making for dramatic skies but cold snorkelling.  We had a big lunch on the beach, then motored back, passing dhows that were floundering under sail in the almost windless afternoon.  That evening Terri cooked up a lentil stew and we did some internet activities until a sudden burst of rain drove us under the roof of an open-sided hut (a barraca, in Portuguese).  We fell asleep to the sound of drizzle, and were awakened several times in the night by torrential downpours.

Terri on the beach on Macaruque Island
We had decided not to push on further north from Vilanculos, with our Twitter feed bringing us news almost every day of further shooting attacks on the EN1.  Instead we packed up Stanley on the morning of Thursday, May 26th and set off on the long drive south, back to Chidenguele.  We split the driving; I used my passenger stint to try to book camping spaces in Kruger again.  It was a futile quest, and we ended up deciding against backtracking through Kruger in favour of the direct route through Maputo and Ressano Garcia.  I took the wheel after Maxixe and drove us through huge cloudbursts to Chidenguele.  We had almost no run-ins with the traffic police, although there were an increased number of security checkpoints, perhaps in response to the surge in Renamo attacks.  It was a pleasure to return to the familiar loveliness of Chidenguele, where we had the campground to ourselves.  It felt strange to have water, 24-hour electricity and a reliable cellular data signal again.  I braaied up some delicious steaks and took advantage of the data connectivity to restore my iPod after iTunes had deleted all my podcasts a few days earlier.
Macaruque Island, Bazaruto Archipelago

Friday, May 27th was our last day in Mozambique and it went remarkably smoothly.  We set off early, drove steadily past Xai Xai to the northern outskirts of Maputo, where a half-finished ring road brought us to the EN4 towards the border with only a few stretches of mud and potholes to navigate.  The EN4 is newly built, smooth and mostly empty, so we raced to the border unexpectedly early.  The border crossing was remarkably smooth and easy, with only the minor hassle of would-be touts trying to earn a few meticais by telling us to do what we were already doing.  We traded the rest of our meticais for rand with one of the hundreds of women sitting beside the road with bundles of banknotes and crossed back into the familiar confines of South Africa after two enjoyable, beautiful weeks in Mozambique.
Tree art, Macaruque


We really enjoyed the Mozambique coast, and had a great time.  We had very few hassles from the traffic police, and other than that had very positive interactions with Mozambicans.  We had pristine, wild beaches almost entirely to ourselves, ate delicious seafood, saw lots of colourful sunbirds and made use of our transport freedom to see some really wonderful places, especially Pomene.  It was a bit sad seeing the decline of the tourist industry, and sadder seeing the signs of Mozambique’s impending decline into economic malaise and possible civil war, but overall it was a very positive experience.  I only wish we had been able to continue north directly to Malawi, rather than making a multi-thousand kilometre detour to avoid the depredations of a bunch of cash-hungry hoodlums.  I would gladly come back to Mozambique in the future when the central third of the country has calmed down again. 
Pomene sunset


Sand art, Macaruque Island