The Essence of the Journey!

Chizarira National Park, Zimbabwe – Celeste

 

 

From ***** five star luxury to camping took a bit of adjusting. We did not stock up

on groceries at Jay’s Spar at Vic Falls, rather heading out to Hwange to the Spar there.

They unfortunately had very little stock. Lesson: In Africa stock up on items when

you see them. Little did we know that that was only the first challenge fo the day. We

travelled south east on the A8 as far as Gwayi River (no fuel – second challenge) then

turned north east to Lubimbi. According to our “Ultimate Africa Atlas” the only

entrance to Chizarira was in the South of the Park. Wrong. The lady on the dashboard

did not even know of the Park’s existence, until we were already there – then she

indicated a few of the tracks – too little, too late.

 

But, after all, we are on an adventure, and so it was! We stopped frequently to ask the locals for directions, each one different from the one before. We met people waiting for the bus, shop owners and even a Catholic priest. He was young, strong and shining with energy. Originally from Spain, he was posted at Dandanda Mission 4 years ago. With the little brick church, it was certainly the neatest hamlet along that stretch. He was racing along in a white bakkie, giving some people a lift. Well, not only was it incomplete, our map was incorrect.

“The road goes like this to Lisulu,” he said, drawing it in for us, saving the lost. “There you ask for Benjamin at the store where they grind mielies and they might have some diesel too.” 20l cost us more than usual but we paid gratefully after several hours of through rough, rural Zimbabwe.

 

Finding a sign to Jedson’s Camp we followed it, knowing it was an isolated spot on the border of the Park from a magazine article dated 2004. The darkness overtook us but we pressed on a bit further. “Shall we camp here in this spot between cows and mielies?” – no, just a bit further. Dense bush enveloped us and it was as if we were tunnelling through a thick greenness to an ‘otherworld’- which I guess we were.

We finally stopped after losing one of the back stabilising ‘legs’ of the trailer, and just as well, for on the morning we found ourselves atop a narrow mountain strip with gorgeous gorges on all three sides. All impressions change at night – the grass is taller, the roads rougher and the distances seem further. That night in the car was not our best, but neither was it the worst – jot it down to experience.

 

Baboons hackled each other, echoing with the Meyer’s parrots at sunrise over the beautiful bush. After winding along further overgrown paths, we found one that looked recently travelled, not oft travelled, mind you, but just with shorter grass. “Yes, this is Jedson’s. No, it is no longer running,” said the six guys we found in a bushcamp. We went a bit further round the sandstone ridge and found remnants of what must have once been an amazing camp: pool, braai area, tents under thatch, kitchen, loos with views overlooking the entire valley of thick Brachystegia msasa (Mountain acacia).

 

Jabulani offered to escort us back to a tract that would supposedly lead us straight to Chizarira (have we heard that before?). Danica perched on my lap while he sat in the back. He helped us rebuild areas of the road and finally reached that magical point of “the way.” Previously owned and run by ‘Mr. Jedson’, as a photographic camp, now owned by Neil for the past 18 months as a hunting camp. “Yes, yes, there are too many poachers. Last night we saw your lights and were afraid because they come armed.” Like a sadly dejected child, he told of how they were poorly paid without adequate food rations. The consequences of no guests were far-reaching. He received the food, drink and money humbly. One can remember when the Zimbabweans used to be nick-named ‘when we’s …’.

 

A long, straight track of an old, unused fire-break with many overturned trees lay ahead.

Then we descended through rocky ridges of the Busi Escarpment, seeing the Chizarira Basin ahead. We arrived, finally, into the Park from the back end where we came across a freshly painted sign – a good sign. Yes, and no. That was all that was fresh about the upkeep of the Park.  We immediately turned left to check out the Mobola platform camp, a slightly built-up flattened area overlooking a small stream in case we decided to camp here. The bush was cleared but there was no water, or any other facilities, despite an old, thatched bathroom area still standing, dead squirrel and all.  

 

We headed for the headquarters, crossing over the airfield where we saw a small herd of Common Waterbuck. The last visitor was a single German who stayed one night last month. Gopito helped us in the office where there were a few old and dusty skulls, trees and grasses displayed. We had a choice of a site overlooking the gorge or one down by the river, but no facilities. “Yes, there are many poachers here, but there were even more in

December.” Even their own water pump had broken seven months ago. Pay and smile or go home. The adults voted up high, the kids voted down low, so, being democratic, we decided to view each before deciding. Of course, time ran out on us and we only got to the river camp, Kaswiswi No. 2. There were two wooden stilted shelters and a lapa, and a run-down bathroom which must have once been great. We stayed two nights. Nicolai found 4 tiny mice, which Danica adopted and fed on three-hourly shifts day and night.

Discussions about Mother Nature and survival of the fittest and the poor likelihood of them making it, did not deter her. Her intense love of animals never ceases to amaze me – such passion in one so young!

 

The sites overlooking the gorge were spectacular, overlooking the Mucheni River, a thin green snake far below. We munched apples and biscuits under a cliff-clinging tree, the Albizia tanganyicensis (Paperbark false-thorn) with beautiful smooth, creamy bark, peeling off in reddish, papery pieces tickled by Foxtail Buffalo Grass (Cenchrus Ciliaris) grass. A pair of Verreaux Eagles looked positively minute flying the currents in the massive space of the Sinamagoga Gorge.

 

Washing and swimming in the river was slippery fun amongst the dragonflies and butterflies. The dishes were cleaned in the same way. Hippo and elephant swathes through the long grass were aplenty with fresh hippo dung. Baboons called in the early mornings and Spotted Hyenas called nightly, along with Scops and Barn and Wood Owls. Even earlier in the mornings brought the Ground Hornbills boom-hooting as well as the Verreaux Eagle Owls.

 

We made the spot our home, doing school work, playing soccer (Nicolai and Marcelo both playing passionately!), feasting on chicken mayonnaise sandwiches. Not only our home, but we shared it with a slim, Green Water Snake (Philothamnus hoplogaster) under an African resin tree (Ozoroa insignis). Short, black spikes somehow found there way into Nicolai’s finger. Picked out individually and creamed, the itchiness and pain got worse before it got better. Only when packing up the tent did we find the culprit – a ‘thing’ of unidentifiable nature (insectish) covered with a cocoon of, you guessed it – short, black spikes.

 

I had to scout ahead frequently through the tall grasses, taller than the car plus roof-rack contents, sometimes making a way where there wasn’t. The absolute highlight of Chizarira was a secret kept until the last drive out for us – exactly the opposite side from which we had entered, 180 degrees from the actual entrance – accessed from the Binga – Karoi    road. Winding down from the escarpment into the valley below was a mountainous track through stunning vegetation and rivulets, twisted and intermingled – Tolkien at his best. It would not have surprised me in the least to have seen some faeries too ….