Category: Uncategorized
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Heading North: Malawi and Tanzania
Leaving Tofo Mozambique was difficult for us. As Lucia noted, we spent longer settled in Tofo than any other location outside of our home in Nevada. We had made new friends, learned new skills, and became familiar with the community. It was a wonderful experience which we were sad to see end. However, the definition of traveling is moving from place to place, so we embarked on a road trip north through Mozambique, Malawi and Tanzania. Driving away from Durban in our truck was our first experience of independence in Africa, but it was only for a few days and mostly in South Africa. Our new South African friends, Graeme and Malcom, had prepped us well with insider information – where the best places to stop were, where to watch out for speed traps, how to handle any police checks you encounter, etc.
The night before we left Tofo, we stayed up in to the wee hours of the morning chatting about life and drinking far too many glasses of rum and whisky with the owners of the lodge. Malcom and Graeme had organized a lovely beach braai (barbecue) for our going away. As we watched the sun set and the moon rise on the bay – “God’s torch” they say – we shared tales of adventure, adversity, and the infinite power of family. One of the best aspects of travel is the ability to connect to people with which we seem to have so much in common despite being raised quite literally the opposite sides of the planet.
The first challenge on our own for us was negotiating the Mozambique-Malawi overland border crossing. Unlike when you arrive at an airport and only have to follow the herd and have your passport stamped, overland border crossings are often chaotic, confusing, and incredibly stressful. Frequently the buildings are not marked so you are not really sure where to go. Floundering your way through, hoards of touts/runners/con-man-cum-money-changers/fixers pounce as soon as they see the confusion on your face and the color of your skin. Negotiating your way through them without being rude is an art form in itself. While not wanting to turn down genuine offers of assistance, too often this assistance comes with a “price” later on in the process. As an introvert, these situations stress me out.
Once through getting our family into the country, we then have to import the truck; another challenge as the requirements vary by country. In some countries you must purchase third-party insurance specific for that country, but in others it is included in the road tax. Some countries have a road tax which you must pay up-front, others do not. Some countries charge an import tax on any extra fuel or food you are carrying, others do not. Unfortunately there is not a clear “this is what you need to do to enter our country” document available so we must rely on the kindness of officials to let us know what is needed. As the primary logistics researcher, I scour as many sources as possible to find out the requirements before entering, but still ends up a hot mess when it is all done.
After negotiating the Moz-Malawi crossing on my birthday, we purchased the biggest pile of ripe red mangoes you can imagine for a little more than a dollar, and headed to Liwonde National Park for a few days of game viewing. We were warmly welcomed to our camp on the outskirts of the park, set up our site, and participated in the African tradition of a sun-downer cocktail before dinner. A quiet night’s sleep was welcomed after the stress of the border crossing. Game viewing the next day was eventful in a mild way. Early rains had washed out the main road which penetrates the park so we drove through areas we could access. Along the way we saw many elephants, bushbuck, fish eagle, hippos, impala, etc.
One of the benefits of self-driving a safari is that you can stop where and when you want for as long as you would like to be there. We had left camp early to have the best chances of seeing predators so by 10:00am we were hungry. We found a large open area on the edge of an oasis, unpacked our breakfast and enjoyed watching the natural world move around us. An impala was hiding in a bush about 200 meters way. A hippo lumbered across the open space looking substantially like a waddling propane tank. The vervet monkeys came out of the near-by rock pile to see what we were doing. A bushbuck swaggered somewhat lazily as it grazed on the green grass in front of us. In the distance, the water hyacinth lined oasis rippled with the activity of hippos, egrets, and fish eagle. It is an image I will not forget as it was the epitome of peacefulness – no planes, no cars, no cell phones, no construction – just quiet African life.
Our afternoon safari was a boat trip up the Shire River (pronounced she-ray). Before we even boarded the 20’ public launch, we were surrounded by buffalo, hippos, a fish eagle and even a lone elephant munching on the tall grass. The guide quipped, “Well, guess you’ve seen everything now so we don’t need to go anywhere!” Heading up the river we were enchanted to see many more hippos, herds of elephants including a young male group frolicking in the river, crocodiles, a fish eagle hunting, and of course, more hippos than one can count. All-in-all it was an extremely successful 24 hours of game viewing despite the absence of predators.Heading north from Liwonde, we stopped in Nkhata Bay on Lake Malawi as all of the guide books claim that it is one of the best places to see cichlids, the brightly colored freshwater fish often found in home aquariums. We had arranged for two dives – one during the day to see the cichlids and another at night to see the dolphin fish hunt the cichlids. The daytime dive was nothing short of a huge disappointment. As a freshwater lake, there is little cleaning of the water that occurs so basically the bottom is an aggregation of years of fish poo. Although there are more than 1,000 different cichlid species, they come in basically three different forms; blue with yellow, yellow with blue and some combination of black and white. It was interesting for about 10 minutes then we spent the rest of the time trying to amuse ourselves. When it came time for our night dive, the first for all of us, we were again excited to see something we had only seen happen on Planet Earth, dolphin fish hunting the cichlids. As we entered the water, the visibility was suboptimal but soon the dolphin fish were following us and our lights. As we rounded the corner of a jumble of fish-poo covered underwater granite boulders, through the haze we saw the edge of a fishing net. Doing our best to stay away from the hooks on the net, we picked our way along the boulders only to find out that the net encircled the entire area we were supposed to be traversing. Aborting the dive, we rose to the surface, once again disappointed in our freshwater diving experience.
Continuing our progress north, we exited Malawi and entered southern Tanzania, once again braving the touts/fixers/money-changers. This border crossing ended up taking us much longer than anticipated so we found a campsite in the field of a welcoming local farmer for the night. The next day we proceeded to Kisolanza Farm for a couple nights of respite in a guest house. The farm is run by Nicky Ghauy, a dynamic woman probably in her early 70s, and members of her family. She runs a complex operation of cattle, Masai herders, growing her own feed, running a guest house, and supporting the local community members. On our last night as we finished a candle-lit dinner in one of the mud barns from the original farm, she asked us where we were heading to next. We told her that we planned on going to Ruaha National Park. She told us to be cautious as the lions there have recently become “quite cheeky” about campers. Neither of us asked more about what she meant by “cheeky” but we both had “oh my, what are we doing” feelings later that night.It had rained a few weeks before so the predators in Ruaha had all moved to the more remote regions of the park so we were the only visitors who entered that day. We knew that we should be in camp by dusk as driving on the roads after dark can be dangerous. However, some of the best activity happens just as the sun is setting and we wanted to maximize our chances of seeing lions so stayed out as long as possible. Arriving at our site on the bench above the bend of a large dry sand river, we set up camp and started cooking as twilight faded. With only a small solar lantern to light our area, we were using headlamps to cook and move about camp. As Mac was putting the finishing touches on our tent, he cautiously said, “do you guys see the eyes out there?” We used our brightest flashlight to see what was out there. All we could see were a set of green reflections about 100 meters away. From that distance it is difficult to determine the size of the animal by the eye-width, so we moved our table and chairs closer to the vehicle and simply kept watch as they came closer. By condensing our camp, the bugs which are attracted to the lantern started falling in our veggie stir fry as it cooked, aggravating everyone. Bugs are not high on the list of our favorite proteins. The eyes moved closer to the point where they were just 50 meters off but had been joined by two more pairs. At the closer range we could see that the animals were not large – perhaps hyenas or jackals – so that anxiety reduced but was quickly replaced by the grunting sounds of hippos in the distance. As the stir-fry finished, the hippos got closer and the bug intensity reached a high, we decided that the only reasonable option was to eat in the truck. So, we quickly moved our meal inside, turned on the air-conditioning and planned what to do if the hippos came in to camp. Hippos, despite their comical proportions and awkward gait, are surprisingly quick and one of the more dangerous animals in Africa.
Recalling Nicky’s warning about there being “cheeky lions” and ready to not be prey, we simply locked the dirty dishes in the back of the truck and headed up to bed. As we drifted off to sleep in the bug-less safety of our nest on top of the truck, we could hear lions grunting far off in the distance. While lions do roar, they also make a low, guttural grunting sound that they also use for communication. A few good hours of sleep were then interrupted by the grunting coming closer. Every 30 minutes or so we would hear them, each time just a bit closer than the last. Colburn, Lucia and I would doze in between grunts but would awaken again to determine the new location. This went on for two or three hours until they finally were almost directly across from us on the other side of the sand river. We could not see them, but could tell that they were relatively close – maybe 200 or 300 meters away. Again, we wondered if this is what Nicky meant by “cheeky lions”? Would they come in to camp? If they did, would the lions try to get up on to the roof of the truck to get at our tent? We waited anxiously to see if they would cross the river, but they never did. The grunts became more distant and we were able to settle back in to a much more restful sleep. Restful that is, until a hippo or rhino (we never actually saw it) started munching on the vegetation around our car. As with the lions, eventually that animal moved on and we awoke to a lovely sunrise early the next morning. Somewhat nerve-wracked, I openly doubted the sanity of what we were doing. Are we making an irresponsible choice by camping in such conditions? Is this the type of situation that could become a news event? We discussed the viability of our future plans for camping in Selous and the Serengeti. If all nights were going to be this stressful, it is a situation not worth enduring. In the end, we decided that we had made some rookie mistakes that substantially raised the stress-level. First, we did not arrive in camp early enough to set up before the sun went down. This meant that we were moving about camp during some of the more risky times. In the future, we would cut our game viewing short to be in camp before the sun set. Second, we were preparing a meal that took a great deal of time to prep and cook. If we had made an easier meal, we could have been ready to eat in 15 minutes, not an hour. To avoid this in the future, we would alter our meal choice and plan to cook anything complicated as a mid-day meal then simply have a sandwich for dinner. Third, we did not have wood for a campfire so we were not only working with a dim solar lantern. A large campfire would have provided a greater circle of light for safe walking and fewer bugs being attracted to the only light source in the area. In the end, we decided that one sleepless night should not deter us when we had made so many poor decisions which could easily be avoided in the future. The process itself was wonderful, but we had not prepared fully. We could do better and would try again in the Serengeti.
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A Map, an App and a Portuguese Phrase Book: Getting to Mozambique
Leaving Madagascar, our life was impacted by three biblical events – a plague, a flood and a tempest – within 24 hours. After braving two hours of traffic in Antananarivo, we arrived at the airport only to be told that our flight had been cancelled because of a suspected case in the Seychelles had been traced back to Madagascar’s outbreak so they were no longer allowing entry from Mada. This meant that we were to be rerouted directly to Durban, our final destination. Just as we sorted out our arrangements for an early arrival in Durban, we were informed that there had been a freak storm two days earlier. The wind and flooding had knocked the power out at the home where we were to spend the week. The power company had come out twice but the power was still not on. Our host offered to cancel our reservation and let us find alternative lodgings but we really didn’t have the energy to do that so we opted to stay in the home without power. Additionally, the wind associated with the storm had wrecked havoc on the port, one of the busiest in all of Africa, turning two cargo ships sideways in the port mouth and running one aground.
Recovering from these issues backed up the port and caused our truck arrival to be delayed by more than ten days. It was a rough start to our over-landing adventure, but we made the best of the delay by spending a few days catching up with our friends Cape Town and getting ahead on school work.
Once our truck cleared customs, we immediately headed for Mozambique, relieved to finally have Olaf and all of our stuff. Since our truck is a US build with the steering wheel on the left side of the car, it draws curious and disbelieving looks frequently. Many people, mostly men, ask about the differences between our truck, a Tacoma, and the African stalwart, the Hilux. The differences are minimal but still enough to be a novelty and prompt discussion. We had originally planned for five days visiting game parks in the coastal north of South Africa, but had to shorten it to only an overnight stop because of the shipping delay. Still, we were able to see hippos, giraffe, elephants, rhinos (including an up-close and personal encounter!), zebra, antelope, and lots of other wildlife.
Many people had warned us that Mozambique was “not at all like South Africa” and that the travel would be much more challenging there. They told us horror stories of corruption, bad roads, unhelpful locals, scams, difficulty with the language (Portuguese) and a myriad of other dangers which abound. Prepared for the worst, we were pleasantly surprised at the ease of travel we encountered. The boarder crossing took less than 30 minutes and happened without a hitch. Taking a car across international borders is a bit more complicated than simply having a passport stamped as there are import taxes, local insurance which needs to be purchased, and differences in safety features/equipment necessary. For example, in Mozambique, a vehicle must be equipped with two bright green or yellow reflective safety vests to be worn in the event of a break down and carry both a fire extinguisher and red reflective triangles of a specific sizes and types. All international cars must have a two-letter, oval “Euro” sticker which clearly identifies their country of registration (ours is “USA” which is technically not compliant but is close enough). We, more specifically Mac, had spent a great deal of time researching the various requirements for all of the countries we plan to visit so had acquired all of the necessary items. Despite our build up of both equipment and anxiety about the process, it went very smoothly and the customs folks never even looked at the truck!
An acquaintance very familiar with travel in Mozambique said that the differences in infrastructure will be obvious as soon as you cross the border. This ended up being the understatement of the year! Quite literally, the pavement and structure of South Africa ends at the border gate and disperses in to several very convoluted sand tracks across an open plain. No longer are there road signs, curbs, pavement, or any suggestion of order. Armed with a paper map, our GPS app, and a Portuguese phrasebook, we immediately got lost. There were five different roads in front of us but both the map and the GPS only showed two. Not sure which road to take, we chose the most traveled one only to have it end in a few hundred meters. We doubled back and chose a different one which ended up heading in the opposite direction of they way we wanted to go. Without anyone who we could ask for directions, we chose a third road which also ended up heading in the wrong direction. Just as we realized our error, a man in fatigues suddenly appears out of the bushes whistling us to stop but upon seeing us, asks in perfect English, “Where are you going?” When we reply, he points us in the correct direction and we head off down a deeply sandy track. After several kilometers, the sand becomes more firm and the road more obvious.
There is a great deal of Chinese investment in the infrastructure of sub-Saharan Africa. One of these projects is a main road between Kosi Bay and Maputo. Although not yet complete, the upgrade makes traveling this way quite easy so we reached Maputo in a couple hours.One of the decisions to make when traveling through Maputo is whether to take the ferry which crosses the river and allows follows the coastline north but risk delays or to take the ring road around the city thus adding many kilometers to the journey but avoids endless waiting to get on the ferry. We had decided to take the ferry. Arriving at 3:30pm, we thought that were were plenty early to make a crossing before dark as the actual journey only takes 15-20 minutes. Even though we would not make the next ferry, we were probably 30th in line and they only fit 20 cars per ferry, it would only be an hour or maybe two hours maximum. The ferry dock is a lively place – the streets are lined with outdoor stalls, open-air bars with music pumping at top volume, hawkers peddling cashews and coconuts, money changers, SIM card salesmen, and throngs of people milling about on a pleasant Saturday evening. There were noticeable waves people every 15 minutes or so, flooding through and around the line of waiting vehicles, as the smaller passenger ferries disgorged their human cargo.
Four hours later, the sun had set, the full moon had risen but we hadn’t moved an inch. As it turns out, the single remaining vehicle ferry had broken down and was being repaired. We were now worried because every blog, guide book and traveler warns that you should not to drive in Africa after dark. Here it is our first night on our own and we are breaking that rule! I explored options for staying in the town where the ferry starts or just on the other side in downtown Maputo, but there was nothing suitable for a family with a big truck. The closest place we could find was about 30 minutes north of the city, but down a 4×4 trail we would have to negotiate in the dark – definitely sub-optimal but perhaps a necessity given the situation. Not knowing when we would actually be able to cross the river, we waited….and waited…..and waited.
Four hours later, the ferry was fixed and the line of vehicles inched forward. Along with probably 200 people, 20 or so cars were packed on the rusty barge and set off under the full moon. Although the waiting is frustrating, the actual experience of crossing on the barge was magical. Vehicle passengers stay in their car while walk-on passengers fill in every possible empty space between, in front of, on top of and behind the cars, leaning up against the car or sitting on a bumper. Even the ladders to the bow of the boat are chock full of people hoping to get a little fresh air. From somewhere off of our right side, we can hear a group of passengers drumming and singing. Just to our left, a group of probably 10 middle aged men and women are chatting excitedly in Portuguese and laughing full-belly laughs. We see a group of 20-something young men doing shots of whisky straight from the bottle but all in very good nature. The moon is lighting up the skyline and new bridge being built. Several men ask Colburn about our truck – what kind is it, what are the specs, how did we get it to Mozambique, how much does a truck like this cost in the US, where are we going, etc. We noticed several people taking “selfies” with our truck – all with very macho poses as if the truck was theirs. Other than the Portuguese couple in the car next to us, we are the only white people on the entire ferry. The combination of being in a place so utterly different on such a beautiful night made any concern we may have had disappear for this is why we travel. Unfortunately, we did not get a decent picture of the scene but it is etched in our memory as a highlight.
We drove off of the ferry around 8:30pm, well after dark. The roads north of Maputo are tarred and in good repair so there were no problems getting out of town. Armed with my Portuguese phrasebook, I called the closest camp ground to see if we would be able to check in after 9:00pm. The man who answered replied yes, but to be careful as the road is a 4×4 trail so would be difficult to navigate in the dark. Colburn’s excellent driving skills got us to the camp without a problem, the camp host was waiting up to show us where to park, and we made dinner and went to sleep happy to have successfully negotiated our first day over-landing with just a map, an app and a Portuguese phrasebook.
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Alternative Realities – Madagascar
Lucia’s latest blog explains her perspective on how being a child or teen is different in a developing nation.
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Bashing Through Madagascar: An Epic Road Odyssey
Even after almost three weeks in Madagascar, the land remains an enigma. I am torn between loving it and being incredibly frustrated by it. The landscapes range from dusty desert-like open expanses with little but scrub and short dried grasses to thickly wooded rain and cloud forests, to the spiney forest of the south, perhaps the most bizarre environment I have ever witnessed (imagine 8-10 foot tall desiccated branching cacti bushes covered in three inch spines and red dust). Everywhere there are people farming, mostly rice, and 100% by hand. The poverty is obvious, Madagascar is one of the least developed nations on the planet but the smiles and welcomes are warm and genuine. Culture varies substantially by region, but family is strong throughout. The infrastructure is crumbling yet provides a needed lifeline for many communities. Drought has made life in the south tenuous, but elsewhere the taps flow freely.
When we were planning our time here, it was difficult to grasp all that Madagascar has to offer. Despite days of Colburn’s research and hours spent correlating guide books with the maps, the combination of difficult but similar sounding place names (Kirindy Park is a day’s drive from Kirindy Matia Park, Antsirabe is not Andasibe, etc.) and wanting to see and do everything left us paralyzed, unable to make a decision. Madagascar is a large country – nearly 1,000 miles north to south – and difficult to reach. It took us three days to get from Scotland to Madagascar and included an overnight stop in Paris and a full day on Reunion Island in the middle of the Indian Ocean.
Within the country, the roads are arranged in a spoke and hub fashion radiating out of Antananarivo (Tana), the capital city smack-dab in the middle. This means that to get from the north coast to the east coast, you will need to return to Tana then take the road that goes the other direction. Even when the national road system links the major areas, the condition of the road (pot holes so big they would swallow a small car) and the near constant presence of people, zebu, bicycles, and children on the road mean that travel is not fast. It took us three full days to do just shy of 400km.
With the help of a tour agency which arranges a car and driver (pictured above), we finally decided on 20 days focused on the western part of Madagascar with a short jaunt east to see the Indri in the rain forest. This would allow us to do an extended four wheel drive trail down the west coast, see lots of lemurs, and walk through the tsingy – all classic Madagascar experiences. The plan was great until we had to shorten our time in order to meet our truck in Durban, arriving three days earlier than expected. We made a rookie mistake by cutting out our rest days, not changing our overall route. This meant that we would be moving every day, sometimes all day, which drags on you after a while. Driving on many of the roads might be best described as bashing, careening or hurtling, making our Madagascar road trip an endurance event of epic proportions.
Each day presented us with new experiences: the haunting call of the Indri on a misty morning, the unique greetings and enthusiastic shouts of “Salama!” from village children, dashing through the rainforest both day and night to find lemurs, intense dusty roads through a burned-out dystopian landscape, overloaded car ferries with chugging diesel engines spewing black smoke, the refreshing taste of drinking the water from a 17 cent fresh young coconut, people in their Sunday best lining the road for miles on end going to church on Sunday, seeing a body wrapped in white cloth being carried through a village, taking a dug out canoe to a small offshore island to learn about what the local Veza fishermen hunt, meeting a cheeky young ringtail lemur who fell asleep on Mac’s lap one afternoon then woke me from my nap by jumping on my chest and licking my face while I lay in bed. Each day was different, engaging, and brought with it a whole new set of questions.
Madagascar is a developing nation complete with bureaucracy and inefficiency that can boggle one’s mind: at least nine different individuals examined our passports before we could enter the country, road-side police checks happen several times each day – sometimes for a cursory look at papers but others are more in-depth searching for missing authorizations or soliciting ‘tips’ from the driver-guides, road rules are rarely observed, guard rails on bridges are non-existent (I think they may be considered like training wheels – if you need guard rails to stay on the bridge you probably shouldn’t be driving!), and there is garbage and deforestation everywhere. Young children who should be in school instead ask for sweets, pens, and hair ties every time you stop in a town. Men working in the field ask for clean drinking water even as we speed by at 60km per hour. It brings up moral and ethical questions – how does one best help without encouraging dependence of youngsters on tourists beneficence? How does one reconcile the extreme disparity between the comfort of our life and the realities of much a more challenging life, especially the lack of clean water and adequate food? Madagascar remains an enigma. But beyond all of the other memories, perhaps the one which will stay with me the longest is the Malagasy smiles. Everywhere we went we were warmly welcomed and invited to share in a beautiful and rugged country.
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Fortune Favors the Brave: Malagasy Kids and Farmers
A Proud Malagasy Farmer and His Young Wife My father loved gadgets. When I was a kid, he had a Polaroid camera that was almost as big as a shoe box, but he would take it with us to family gatherings and events so that we could have pictures printed on the spot making the memories tangible. I recall the snapping sound of the film being pulled out of the camera, impatiently waiting three minutes until you could remove the developing cover off of the image and the wonder of seeing it magically appear right there in front of you. Technology has changed a great deal – it’s now smaller, lighter and easier to use – but the wonder is still there. Polaroid now makes a hand-held printer that is about the same size as an iPhone, uses Bluetooth to transfer images and prints business card sized photos on the spot. I had an older, clunkier, more finicky version that never lived up to the expectations but the new version is spot-on for delivering the same magic and wonder during this kind of travel.
While traversing central Madagascar with our driver-guide, Tovo, we stopped for lunch under a large tree on the outskirts of a small village. A young woman, likely close to Lucia’s age, curiously eyed us from a hundred or so yards away and waved enthusiastically. We waved back and she came closer. Again, we waved and smiled. She came even closer. I asked Tovo to see if she would want a picture of herself. She jumped in excitement. “Yes, she would” he calmly replied as she sprinted off. Closer to the village, two younger girls, probably 10 or 11 years old, watched us intently but with greater trepidation. Where the young woman approached us, they held back. I gathered my phone and printer from the car and walked towards the village. As I approached the younger girls and held up my phone to take a picture of them, they dashed in to the bushes, apparently afraid of what I was going to do. I had assumed that they wanted their picture taken too, but was incorrect (at least initially!).
This was as close as the younger girls would get to me for quite a while. 
The Brave Young Mother The young woman returned carrying her infant son as she wanted a picture of him, not of herself. With great pride, she held him up for the photo. I took the picture of the two of them, but she only wanted the baby’s image. We retook the picture with only him in the frame. By the time the printer had been started and the photos taken, a small crowd had gathered and squealed excitedly as my printer produced the small image.
Seeing this miracle, several other young mothers quickly brought their babies for a picture and the shy younger girls gained enough courage to let me take their photo. There were laughs, comparisons of skin color (the two young girls were amazed by Lucia’s light skin), and lots of charades to communicate. It was a genuine and memorable experience which would not have occurred if not for the gregarious and inquisitive nature of the first young mother. We would have simply moved along after we finished our sandwiches, never having this interaction. I could not help but think of the David Attenborough line from many of his BBC Earth episodes, “Fortune often favors the brave.”
A similar experience happened a couple of days later in a more remote part of the country. Again, we had stopped for lunch on the outskirts of a small village overlooking a large rice terrace. Seeing us, one brave young farmer approached and struck up a conversation with Tovo. After some pleasantries, a second farmer joined in and our driver asked if it would be okay to offer the photos to them as well. They were excited about the opportunity yet posed solemnly for the photos. As the first image printed, the younger of the two men broke in to laughter. Tovo translated his words as, “He cries disbelief because he usually has to travel more than two hours to have a photo!”
The Brave Young Farmer As with the previous experience, once the first photo was produced, a crowd quickly gathered to have their photos taken. This experience was different though because it was primarily young farming men where the first had been children and young mothers.
The second young farmer
One farmer was pulling a tiller behind two large zebu (cattle/oxen like animals ubiquitous in Madagascar), prepping his muddy field for planting rice. He removed his pink sequined hat and wanted his picture taken with his zebu. When he saw how muddy he was in the first image, he quickly ran to his house, grabbed clean clothes, rinsed off in the irrigation ditch then wanted a more formal picture taken.
Before cleaning up 
With his prized possessions In looking at the images later, I was struck by the difference in his posture from the initial image to after he had cleaned up. There is obvious pride in the size, strength and quality of his zebu. There was a great round of laughter when one of the younger men, possibly the younger brother or cousin of the proud farmer, brought his zebu out to pose for a photo as well. When the image of him with his smaller, less robust, baby zebu emerged, the whole group broke in to laughter demonstrating the commonality of sibling rivalry around the world.
Just before the laughter started With each of these experiences, we all were smiling when we got back in the car. It feels good to give something, even a small picture, instead of only taking from the places we visit. Mac commented that we had probably made their day with our technology – Tovo, our guide, said that it may have been the highlight of their month. I am happy to have carried on my father’s tradition of creating tangible memories of a shared experience.
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Highland Games and a Military Tattoo in Scotland
We never really planned on coming to Scotland, it kind of just happened. One morning in mid-April, I was scrolling through my favorite cheap flight booking sites and found a $69 promotional fare from cities on the East Coast to Edinburgh. I looked at Colburn and said, “What do you think of starting off in Scotland?” He thought that it was a grand idea! Besides, it is much easier to get flights to Africa from the UK than it is from the US and we had 8 weeks to wait while our truck is en-route to South Africa, so early that morning, I booked four of us from Connecticut to Scotland for under $300. Of course, as is true for many discount airlines, getting reserved seats and baggage fees upped the price some, but we still were able to fly comfortably across the Atlantic for under $500.
With our reservations booked, Colburn went to work planning our itinerary. As it happened, the last Highland Games of the summer was scheduled for the day after our arrival and the last military tattoo for the following day! The timing could not have been better. After taking in the sights of Edinburgh on our arrival day, blearly eyed and jet-lagged, we drove two hours north of Edinburgh to Pitlorchy to watch the games.
The day was beautiful – big puffy clouds threatened rain but revealed intense sunshine instead. The action was non-stop from the moment we arrived. The pipe and drum bands were parading through the field as we walked up and passed within an arm’s reach of where we stood. The sound was intense – each band had probably 20 pipers and eight or ten drummers. Mac’s face was aglow with excitement as he has a love of both the bagpipes and drums. Seeing kids his own age and grey haired elders all marching together clad in kilts, glengarry hats, knee socks, and tasseled shoes made an impression that will not soon be forgotten. The judge next to us scrutinized their cadence, sound, showmanship and other things we are too naive to know.
To gain a better view of the field, we settled on an embankment with many other attendees. The events all happen simultaneously – kids running races are taking place on the painted grass track while the “heavy” events are happening in the center of the field and bikers are warming up while individual pipers are competing at the far end of the field. It’s hard to know where to watch.
When you watch one event, you miss something in another part of the field. The competition is intense but with humility and sportsmanship. When a race concludes, all participants shake hands and help each other up. The heavy competitors watch and mark each other’s throws while encouraging and supporting each other. Everyone rejoices for an especially good throw and groans in disappointment when a competitor looses his grip.
Young girls compete in dance competitions that require several extreme costume changes. The commentator is witty and the attendees all polite and engaged. It was really an amazing community event to experience. After many hours of watching the endless tug of war, bike races, field events, band competitions, dancers doing the highland fling, running races, hammer throws, and bag pipe competitions, we were beat and headed out to Inverness for the evening.
The following evening was last night of a military tattoo at Fort George, the most fortified armament in Britain, perhaps all of Europe. Built as a display of strength of the English Crown at the end of the Jacobite Rebellion, the Fort is impressive – walls 15 feet thick, several lines of defense, and ancient barracks that are still occupied today as Fort George remains an active military base.
Tattoos are military presentations, often done as fund-raising events, that combine military displays with entertainment and re-enactments. Before the presentation began, we walked around the fort and talked to several active military folks who were explaining various pieces of military equipment. We were able to use the heat-sensitive goggles that help soldiers see in the dark, pick up a typical sniper rifle to feel its heft, see the back of a working Foxhound troop vehicle, and many other items.
Participants walked around too, many dressed in their period costumes or wearing formal Scottish dress. During the actual event, there were several pipe bands (of course!), a military drill team, a World War I biplane flyover, re-enactments of famous battles from the Jacobite Rebellion to Afghanistan. We were seated just a couple rows behind the Commander, who would stand each time a military unit was officially presenting to him. It was both moving and impressive.
Our initial impressions of Scotland are substantial. The people are hearty, welcoming, and exceptionally organized. The history is immersive – from the lonesome sound of the bagpipes to the wearing of kilts to the pride in the Jacobites of the 1400s, everyone we meet are keen to help us understand their history, their country and their traditions.
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Waves of Leaving
We have begun this leg of our adventure in waves – waves of organization, waves of leaving, waves of good-byes, and alternating waves of excitement and melancholy.
After more than a solid six months of planning and preparation, Colburn, the kids, and Fig all left Reno in late July to drive east and see his family. Our truck, now nicknamed Olaf, has everything we will use over the next year – a four person roof-top tent, camping gear, two jerry cans, water storage, a 12 volt car refrigerator, emergency recovery gear, sand trax, an extra water pump, tire repair kit and a myriad of other miscellaneous items. This was the first full test-run of the rig. It worked beautifully! Everything has its place and there is a place for everything….even Fig (who won’t be going with us – she will be staying with Colburn’s sister and her family and their dog).
I joined the family in late August when I finished my contract at UNR, just in time to deliver Olaf to New Jersey so that he could be loaded into a 20 foot shipping container and sent to South Africa. Shipping your vehicle internationally is an adventure in itself. After months of research and planning, we still were unclear how the process would work but figured that it would all become clear as the steps unfolded. Unfortunately, it did not. As I was confirming the details of our shipment, the shipper moved up the date we had to deliver the truck for loading while simultaneously moving back the date the truck would arrive in Durban by a week. This necessitated a complete reshuffling of our schedule and an additional two weeks of car rental, essentially upping the cost of shipping by one-third. Unhappy but with few options for changing, we were stuck driving from upstate New York to New Jersey on a Monday morning to deliver Olaf to his container.
With only a street address to go by, we arrived at what looks like an abandoned warehouse in the dark heart of Meadowlands. As we drive in, there are quite literally hundreds of mostly-but-not-fully wrecked cars lining the street and packed in to the yard; weeds are growing up in between the cars and overtaking not only the ground but the sidewalks and paths as well; the building itself has broken windows and sparse, dirty, dilapidated signage. We have to dodge a fork lift moving a bent Land Rover from one area to another. A semi truck is jack-knifed, blocking our path, as it attempts to back in to tiny opening between the broken down vehicles. It looked and felt very much like something straight out of the beginning of a Sopranos episode.
We eventually find our loading agency on the backside of the warehouse. The only indication that this is the correct location is a faded piece of paper taped in the doorway stating Prestige Shipping. Entering the building, a man with a strong Russian accent curtly says, “I will get Dimitri for you” before we have had a chance to say a word. He magically knew why we were there and to whom we should speak. This was very odd to me because the person I had been corresponding with was named Rubin, but goes by the nick-name “Muscles”. Dimitri has never been part of the equation. We sit down at a cramped desk surrounded by various sports memorabilia from professional teams – an Eli Manning signed football, a large print of Magic Johnson and Michael Jordan playing against each other, also signed by both athletes, a signed hockey jersey, and several other smaller items. Another man, also with a thick Russian accent, demands our paper work. We hand him the original title for the truck, our Carnet (essentially a passport and bond for the truck which acts as a temporary import permit to avoid luxury taxes in each country), and certified copies of our passports. He makes copies and hands us back all of our original documents except for the truck title, which he keeps. We only get a blurry black and white photocopy. When we ask for the title back, he states “this is needed to clear customs”. This does not feel right, but we are willing to go with it until we get more information.
Finally Dimitri arrives. Also speaking with a noticeable Russian accent but less so than his colleagues, Dimitri briefly reviews our information, asks for the keys and tells us we can be on our way. At this point, we don’t know anyone’s last name or have any indication that they have any connection to the company I have been working with as it is a totally different company. There is no receipt, no review of the condition of the truck or terms of loading, no review of the manifest of the contents of the truck, no explanation of how or when the truck will be loaded, no indication of when or how we will get our title back. It is beginning to feel surreal – as if we are being set up for a great con. Our truck and all of its contents was suddenly out of our control with only a blurry black and white photocopy of our title as evidence of its existence and our ownership. We are not happy about this but really don’t know what else to do. Getting in to our rental Buick, we look at each other and a wave of concern overcomes us. Fighting the urge to want to control everything, we calmly drive away knowing from our previous travels that things usually work out, even if you are uncertain at the time.
As we exit the yard, there is a heaviness wondering if we have somehow been duped or too trusting this time. Silence envelops us as we each quietly ruminate on our potential error. Finally, Colburn and I look at each other and ask, “It’s going to be ok, isn’t it?” We decide that whatever happens, it is now out of our control so we will simply deal with any error that we have made. The six hour drive is quiet and tense with the unease of our decision to trust the unknown. Three days later, we receive a full bill of lading, confirmation photos which document the condition of the truck when we dropped it off, and acknowledgement that the truck has cleared customs. Our hearts are lifted and stress-level greatly reduced. Our trust in the goodness of people has once again been strengthened. With Olaf comfortably settled in his new shipping container, we were able to enjoy the remainder of our time with family.
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A New Chapter, A New Adventure
It was wonderful to be with family again. It’s been two years since we returned to the US and posted about our adventures. We settled back in to our old life – our old house, the kids at their old school, my old work – and yet everything was different, not in a tangible way, but more like a rub in your shoe that you can only feel after many miles. It was a subtle but constant irritation. A whole year passed waiting for the feeling to either be identified or subside. Then, while on spring break in Moab last year, we sat together as a family in our trailer, completely comfortable for the first time since we returned. There was a sense of peace that had been eluding us for many months. As we discussed our situation, we realized that as odd as it may seem, the settled life had been making us feel unsettled. Each of us was yearning for something different than the supposedly comfortable routine in to which we had slipped.
This was the experience which made us decide to hit the road again. As we discussed our options, it became clear that although we missed traveling immensely, we did not want to repeat the sustained break-neck pace we endured last time. Thirty nine countries in two years required far too many transitions – different languages, different cultures, different expectations. Mac commented that he would like to be able to spend more time in the communities we had only visited before, helping out if we could. Lucia wanted to spend longer in each place so we could know more about the entire area rather than only seeing the highlights. Colburn and I wanted to be able to use our professional skills yet not be tied down to a 50-week-a-year job.
Enjoying time camping in the woods While the plan was not fully solidified that week, we came home with a commitment to doing what was need to go traveling again. Within a month of making the decision, we sold the big house that required near constant attention and care and moved in to one that can be left with only the turn of a key. We have spent the entire past year down-sizing our life – selling our beloved Sylvia, the trailer in which had been our home for two cross-country trips and in which we made the decision to go loose again. We traded our gigantic Toyota Sequoia for a used Tacoma truck that can be fixed anywhere in the world. We sold our rental home so that we won’t have to deal with a home as old as me either. We found new homes for our martial arts floor pads, a fancy but very large desk-top computer, used single mattresses we no longer need and a myriad of other things that were weighing us down – both literally and figuratively. We have spent the entire past year extracting ouselves from under what Lucia called our ‘big life’ and the burden of too many things and too many demands.
Testing out our rig with Aiana (our Kyrgyz exchange student) in California Now that we are living smaller life, what is the plan? We have decided that we really didn’t get to see nearly enough of Africa so are heading back there as our first destination. We will ship our truck so that we will have a home on the road as well as the flexibility of going where we want. The general plan is to drive from Dar es Salaam Tanzania to Tofo Beach, Mozambique then on to Cape Town South Africa – about 11,000km or so in total.
Colburn has been cultivating a relationship with Level-Up Village, an educational company that connects schools in the U.S. and U.K. to international partners so that students can work collaboratively (through internet-based interactions) on STEM projects with their peers abroad. He will be mentoring the global partner faculty as they learn to navigate the systems and technology. I have found several options for being a visiting professor or volunteer teacher at nursing schools in Uganda and elsewhere. Since will be doing a combination of road-schooling and online classes for the kids, we would like for them to have active volunteer opportunities as well. To this end, we have made a connection with Underwater Africa, a marine megafauna conservation and research program in Mozambique which will allow the kids have an active role in one of their ongoing projects. Local Oceans Trust in Kenya has a turtle conservation program which has also agreed to have the kids be part of their program. We will see what else can happen as we finalize our plans, but for now we are excited to be actively planning again. There is a big map of Africa on our wall with post-it notes indicating places where we want to go. We are updating passports, gathering necessary documents, getting vaccines boosted, developing a medical kit, terminating cell phone contracts, buying international sim cards, figuring out how to renew the truck registration when we are a half a world away, and settling a myriad of other details.
The most difficult part will be leaving Fig, our Aussie, who lost an eye in an accident in March. So, that is our plan. We will once again be on the road for an undetermined amount of time. We anticipate for being gone for least the the next 9 to 12 months but then will come back to the U.S. for an extended period to regroup and decide on future locales. Circumnavigating Australia and New Zealand for the following year is a definite possibility as is an overland drive from the United Kingdom through Central Asia to China or a North-through-South America jaunt.
Wow, was this an adventure! When we originally came to Africa in 2014, our first stop was a guided safari in the Serengeti and Ngorogoro region of Tanzania. We were traveling with my brother and his family in two Land Cruisers, driven by professional guides and staying in lodges and tented camps. It was very comfortable as everything was taken care of for us; airport pick-up, permits, driving, gas refueling, meals, hot showers, etc. were all arranged by our safari company. All we had to do was show up and enjoy seeing the sights. We considered doing another guided safari when we came back through but a combination of budget limitations and desire for a more independent experience lead us to do a self-drive through both areas. While not nearly as easy as in Southern Africa, self-drives are possible in the Serengeti, just a bit more complicated logistically. One must obtain permits and secure campsites in Arusha (the main town outside of the protected areas) prior to arrival. This took us many days of research and the better part of a day on the ground as there is no centralized location for information. Campsite names and locations change frequently so it is a challenge to know what to ask for when you arrive. Additionally, the two areas are administered by different entities so you must go to one office to arrange for travel through the Ngorogoro Conservation Area and a totally different location outside of town for the Serengeti National Park reservations. Once we knew where we would be staying, we headed to the supermarket to purchase provisions, to the petrol station to fill up our spare fuel cans, and purchase a SIM card so we would have some sort of connectivity in the park should the need arise. Loaded and ready to go, we headed in to the parks!
Our first night was at a public campsite on the rim of the Ngorogoro Crater. The site itself is large grassy area just off the main road. There are ablution blocks (shower/toilet), a secured camp mess area to use in case of animals wandering through, and a few fire rings. We were greeted by Saipi Sangay, the attendant on duty for the afternoon. Although limited in his comfort with English, he was a great help to us setting up camp and learning about the area. There were several overlanding groups in the camp as well, so the camp was lively with international conversation. We met a family (parents and 20-something daughter) from Poland who wondered how we could have the kids out of school for this long, a Spanish/Dutch pair who thought what we were doing was crazy but inspiring, a young woman from the US who hopes to write a book about traveling to all of the continents before she is 30 and a quiet Australian (unusual in itself) who gave us advice on how to circumnavigate Australia.
The camps in the Ngorogoro and Serengeti are not fenced which means that the animals are free to wander through at any time. Although we did not have any directly in camp, there were some on the perimeter. As the sun set and we were preparing to go up in to our roof-top tent, Colburn was enjoying a sip of Scotch whiskey at the campfire when he calmly said, “Hey, Deb, look! There is hyena just behind you.” Sure enough, there was a single hyena about 15 meters off of my right shoulder. He was not threatening, more like a coyote circling a camp curious to see what we were doing. At night, the Conservation Area has armed guards who walk the camp with an AK-47 to protect the area from any aggressive animals. Usually simply shooing them away works fine, but it was nice to know that they had fire-power if needed. We heard some other nondescript animals munching on the vegetation during the night, but nothing that impacted our sleep. The weather was cool, verging on cold, at 7,000 ft and sunrise came early.
Entrance to the park is only valid for one 24-hour period and the clock begins ticking when you enter. If you have not been officially stamped out of the park by the end of your allotted time, you must pay another full day’s worth of fees which are incredibly expensive – $200 dollars for the car alone! To maximize our experience, we got on the road early so that we could go to our favorite place from our last visit, Ndutu Lake. February is a fabulous time to see the great migration here as it is often when more than 600,000 wildebeest arrive and calve nearly synchronously to decrease the risk for individual offspring. We were not disappointed. Much like our last visit, lines of wildebeest stretched as far as one could see from horizon to horizon. Herds gathered in great clumps near the soda lake and up the drainages which feed the lake. The zebra congregate with the wildebeest for safety, a symbiotic relationship that allows for both animals to benefit from the other’s dominant sense. Seeing the mixed herds fo this size is a humbling, awe-inspiring experience.
We also found a couple different groups of lions, all sleeping in the shade through the heat of the day.
Of course, there are always giraffe, gazelles, antelope, hartebeest, and elephants.
Our second and third nights were spent wild-camping in the Seronera area. While these sites cost more, must be reserved and are assigned, there are no facilities or services available. Essentially it is a designated plot of wilderness with a small fire ring. You must bring in all of your own water, seating and sanitation facilities and all refuse must be carried out of the park as well. Without fencing or guards, you are on your own to deal with anything that comes through camp. Sleeping in our roof-top tent raises us off of the ground so buffalo, rhino, and hippos are not a concern. It also makes us look more like an inanimate object so leopards, lions and the like do not typically view you as food. The only real concern is for elephants because they are large enough to turn over the entire car if angered. The good news is that they really only do that if you’re bothering them so it is relatively easy to avoid. During our previous attempt at wild-camping at Ruaha National Park in Southern Tanzania, we miscalculated our timing and ended up in a very challenging situation at sun-down. This time we were prepared – we arrived back in camp with plenty of time to set up and eat dinner, we had two bright flashlights with us to light up any areas of concern, and we planned easy meals with little or no clean up. In contrast to Ruaha, everything went smoothly without so much as a hiccup.
Upon leaving the park, we all felt a sense of pride in our adventure as there are not a lot of people who self-drive the Serengeti. It is perhaps the most adventurous thing we have ever done. As we traversed the park, we noticed that we were talking with the driver/guides, not the tourists, when we would cross paths. They frequently wanted to know what we were doing, where we were from, and how we managed to do it on our own. Most seemed moderately impressed, especially with the kids in tow. In return, the guides would tell us what they had seen and how to get there. Perhaps this is part of what makes traveling a different experience than going on vacation. Traveling put is on equal footing with the local guides, not the paying guests, so showed us a different aspect of the amazing Serengeti.
Should you ever be interested in seeing the great migration or going on safari, we highly recommend it as it is a life-time experience. Yes, to do it is a large investment of both time and money, but it is typically a “once in a lifetime” opportunity that cannot be replicated elsewhere.
The Shindells - Four to Go 