Lake Malawi

Nkhata Bay, Malawi

When I was quite young, I rode a horse. It had been a fabulously U-shaped steed named Gluestick (joke courtesy of Jerry Seinfeld). I tried to saddle up a second time when visiting Corine's family home in the Okanagan Valley - a curious place, half chalet and half barn made of straw. I had joked about galloping briskly through a meadow - but Corine's horses were nearly dead and the other was incredibly anti-social. It was not meant to be.

This morning I went on a real horse for a real ride. It was surprisingly great - and I now have some insight into Mark and Jess's obsession with this sport. I'm joining them for their next trip to Wyoming.

The horse's name was Glen. Glen is a girl, despite her name. We took a route through farms and corn and hills and then along the beach back to my lodge. I walked, trotted, and then horribly lost control while attempting to canter - holding on desperately to the horse's mane and neck. The second attempt felt much better, very natural - but I apparently screwed it up also, because when I finished, the sexy Brazilian guide I was with said "that was more of a gallop."

I can't canter to save my life, but I achieved the dream of galloping briskly through a meadow. The meadow was more of a sandy wet rice field - but I'm not picky. I knew Glen was happy too when he instigated a celebration by taking a roll in the swampy water giving us both a proper soaking.

Other than this, I've had three sequential rainy days on the lake. Its been a good chance to sketch out some plans for the remaining sabbatical and to dream of paths for life beyond ...

The Notes of Malawi

The largest tender note in Malawi is a 500 kwacha note valued at about $3 USD. Due to government restrictions, you cannot use Visa or Mastercard in shops - cash is the only option. The resulting stacks of money are outrageous. Single women walk alone in the streets with big bags full of cash. You have to go early to the bank because the ATMs run out of bills. When we bought 200 liters of petrol at $2 per liter, there was a significant weight to the transaction.

Malawi doesn't export anything except the Carlsberg beer manufactured in Lilongwe. The European Union's logo appears on nearly everything - it seems to be an economy propped up entirely by foreign aid. This does not stop the Malawian government from loving Hummers and other flagrant displays of excessive spending. The government didn't manage to pay their petrol bill this time round, causing the current nationwide petrol shortage. Strange given that the fuel budget is apparently aid money. It is no wonder then that when children learn English, they learn "hello" "how are you" and "give me money."

Malawians subsists on a diet of mostly corn and fish. The corn is served as a paste called nsilo, and the fish is usually dried for distribution. The fish are just minnows due to overfishing which I unsuspectingly took part in. It doesn't seem that Malawi's dependence on foreign aid is destined to curtail any time soon especially given Malawi's population density, the rate of overfishing, the current drought, and a total absence of grain storage or foreign currency.

I have Schistosomiasis, a parasitic worm which lives in your blood. Contracting this disease was originally one of my big fears when coming to Africa. In the end, I gave it to myself nearly on purpose. It's just inevitable if you come to Lake Malawi. The treatment is just three pills over three days for less than a dollar. It seems funny that I was so scared of this back home.

The ants in Malawi are radiculous. Last night they found a 5 mm diameter hole in my tent and when I woke up there was a thick black line of ants up the side of my sleeping bag, across the tent above my head, straight to the jar of peanut butter. I would wager there is at least one ant in ever square meter of Africa. They can't get up into Ralf's truck by the wheels; but the kitchen is swarmed with them if a single blade of grass touches the outside of the truck, or if a branch rests against the roof.

When we first arrived at the lake, we noticed thick black smoke rising out of the center of the lake. We assumed one of the fishing vessels had caught fire. Today we learned that the 'smoke' is actually swarms of flies.

A Big Yellow Fire Truck

I've been hanging out with Ralf, a master carpenter from Germany. Ralf used to work for an engineering company in Germany constructing the interior of high-speed trains. When the project was completed, he decided to build his own motor home in the back of a bright yellow Mercedes 4x4 fire truck and take it for a romp through western Africa via Mauritania-Cameroon-Congo-Angola-South Africa. He's modified the vehicle for improved off-road capability and distance travel. It has a very comfortable livable interior with kitchen and bedroom which he hand crafted to an exceptionally high level of quality. Ralf really knows how to enjoy a day and he ranks among the most easy going people I've met, while simultaneously exemplifying and evangelizing hard work, honesty, and adventure. I kinda want to be Ralf.

Ralf offered to let me join him on a trip to Liwonde National Park. The drive was pleasant, and we stopped at points along the lake and at markets to pick up goat and vegetables. Some employees of Liwonde National Park whom we knew from Cape MaClear took us (for free) on the roof of their Land Rover to a scenic lookout for the sun set and later for a night game drive. Lots of signs of hyenas and we enthusiastically chased after some hippo as part of their game called “Slap a Hippo’s Ass”. Ralf prepared a 'simple' sauce over pasta from our fresh veggies and his bottomless spice rack - containing spices which he largely picked and dried himself. This has reminded me how nice it is to know people who cook (and who have more than one pot). It feels good to be bush camping again as I haven't done it since Botswana - but the hippos still make me nervous.

We did an off-road game drive in the fire truck through throngs of flies which seem to love yellow things, following us for miles at speeds up to 60 km per hour. Hippos kill more people than any other animal in Africa. In the Okavango Delta, people were simply petrified of them. But they aren't very dangerous in National Parks because they don't have to compete with humans for resources here. You can safely get quite close to them – andwe did a canoe safari which did exactly that. We cooked the road-side goat for nearly four hours over an open fire in a South African potje yielding delicious results. This is the life.

After a day through the Dedza Mountains and two more in the capital Lilongwe, we headed back towards the lake for some $0.25 beers, some sun, and a chance for Ralf to get over a stomach flu. There is a tar road to the lake, but we decided to take the fire truck on a more rowdy and direct path soaking in rural sights on another mountain range - - and I suspect, for Ralf to show off the 4x4 capabilities of his truck.

It had rained for the last couple of days conjuring up the typical mud of Malawi's rainy season - a thick creamy red glue. Our maps, showed our planned route only as an obscure dotted walking path. The scene was set for some good off-roading.

The whole route was pretty bumpy, muddy, scenic, and filled with laughing happy children. The climax came on a downhill section which was sloped to one side. At the bottom of the slope was obvious trouble - deep tire treads and the signs of vehicles up to their axels in mud. We approached at a crawl but even at this speed, we slid laterally on the slimy mud towards the bad. We decided to unleashed Ralf's sand ladders to help us manage the slope. Sand ladders are meter long aluminum plates with deep treads and holes which you place under your wheels to drive on bad surfaces. Ralf had not yet had cause to use the sand ladders on his trip - not even in the jungles of Gaboon - and the fact that our situation merited them sort of made me proud.

We pick isolated areas along the highway for rest stops whenever we need a break or to make a repair . Somehow even in even the densest bush (not a person in sight), we will attract a moderately sized crowd of spectators after mere minutes. They just materialize from the bush. Today’s stop was no exception and a crowd of more than thirty people arrived quickly wanting to give us a push (for money). I don't think any of them had driven a car before. Whatever the reason, they simply didn't understand that our goal was to avoid becoming stuck in the mud. Their mentality was to just push and if you’re more stuck you get more guys. To them we didn't look very stuck, so they kept telling us to drive forward. They didn’t understand the risk to the vehicle or that the truck was heavier than the small trucks they’re used to pushing. They assumed Ralf must have just been somehow incapable of driving forward and they mocked him. One guy even offered to drive for him.

Ignoring the jestful spectators, I waded around in the mud placing the sand ladders with Ralf instructing me from the driver's seat. The spectators crowded round up to push as Ralf eased it into gear. The front of the car got onto a safe track, but the back tires slid deeper down the slope. A bunch of guys had been pushing directly on the side of the van - pushing the back wheels directly toward the bad mud. You had to laugh - but they'd put us in an awkward spot.

I started to have some trouble with the sand ladders at this point because they were heavily coated in the heavy mud and now weighed more than 50 lbs each. The crowd was not interested in helping me with the ladders, but were still eager to push us. I directed the crowd away from the side of the truck as Ralf began to crawl forward again. Soon we were out. There was lots of cheering and celebrations and Ralf sounded the air horn loudly. Then came the shouts for us to pay them.

We paid 1500 kwacha to the group. The guy we gave the money to pocketed 500 and shared 1000 with the others. We drove a couple hundred meters away for a private celebration over beers. We asked a man walking by if the road ahead was good "Yes, very good. No problems." he replied. We were relieved. But I was starting to catch on - I asked how the road was behind us, could we turn around and drive back easily? Uphill past the section we just passed? "Yes, very good. No problems." Shit.

The road got narrower and worse. Eventually the car treads disappeared and were replaced by only bike treads. There were lots of awe-struck children screaming "mazungu" and dancing even on rooftops sometimes. We picked a nice place where we could overnight should the need arise, but the mud gave way to sand and we got through without another major incident.

It had taken us all day to go 180 km. The beach was fine and the lodge was deserted. Crack a beer, we're back on Lake Malawi.

Cape MaClear, Malawi

I joined a group of ten for snorkeling and a shore lunch on a nearby island. There were lots of cool fish in the clear water and it was an entertaining day. Ralf had a cool underwater camera which made a fun toy. I dove (dived?) with my hat on, but got a whicked sun burn on my back since there is no such thing as waterproof sunscreen in Africa. We went by boat to an area to feed the fish eagles. These massive birds would come down from the trees and snatch up some dead fish which a guide threw to them.

I have been preparing myself for an epic walking adventure in Malawi and thought I'd warm up. I hiked through the village to the end of the beach trying to get to a rock point from which I could swim to a nearby island. The plan was to traverse the island and then swim back. When the beach ended an Australian guy went out of his way to inform me that it was snake season. "Keep yer eyes out, mate" (hard to do an Australian ascent in text - but he sounded exactly like Crocodile Dundee). I felt foolish barefoot in the tall grass and turned back.

The next day I rented some kayaks with Ralf and new friend Sally. We went east along the cape to a place called Otter Point in the Cape MaClear Nature Reserve. The rock forms and the colouring in the water was incredibly serene. While snorkeling I found a cool tunnel through the arrangement of rocks. Found some cliffs to jump off of and did some bouldering on the rocks overhanging the water (V1/2). Definitely was missing Tim and Dima.

Senga Bay to Cape MaClear

I sent a parcel from Salima, Malawi to London, Canada. I wrapped my parcel in front of a massage crowd of spectators. The average person in Malawi grosses 3000 kwacha per month, and I spent three times this on postage. There were many stamps. We'll see if it makes it. I'll be amazed if it does. But the travelers I've talked with have a 100% success rate with the post system when given ten months.

I hopped on a minibus, and then onto the back of a truck with more than 60 people on it. The 'conductor' of the truck was extremely drunk. When we got rolling, there was a lot of yelling and threats and angry people uttering things about mazungus (white person in Swahili) and seeming disapproval of English. I had no idea what was going on and just sat there smiling. About eight young guys seemed to be on my side of the disagreement (white people's side?), and twenty older people seemed to not like me very much. I asked what it was about and the answer left me even more confused.

I arrived in Cape MaClear. The scenery and sunset was amazing. I met many people and partook in lots of socializing, drinking, and whatnot. Good fish curries.

One guy named Henk was working at the lodge after  driving down to Malawi from Holland. His trip had been derailed when the engine of his car cracked, his traveling companion was subsequently attacked by a crocodile, and the two of them had been thrown in prison for 'theft by trick' when they refused to bribe the police. Ridiculous stories.

Ralf, a master carpenter and millwright from Germany had "taken a year off" to convert a big yellow fire truck into a motor home, and drive it from Germany to Capetown via West Africa, DRC, Angola, and Namibia. He's the first person I've met to have traveled through many of these places. He's somewhere into his third year of travel now, supporting himself with the odd construction job here and there. Amazingly interesting guy. He has cool stories and an extremely cool vehicle - like my Epic Pull x1000.

Its fun to meet a bunch of travelers from such diverse motivations, backgrounds, and interests. I'll stay for a while before heading to the Mulanje Massif.

Senga Bay Finale

Over the next two days, I BBQed the delicious fish that I caught. Some girls from Sweden joined me, and I spent a lot of time reading and learning an African counting game called Boa.

Once I understood the basics of Boa, I got pretty into it and played for many hours against the locals on the beach. They are vastly superior to me. But by the end of two days I could consistently beat some of the children in the women's game. I'm finding it to be a good way to relax and engage with people, so I bought a board.

I finished In Spite of the Gods on the beach. Great analytical cross-section of Indian culture. Its been weird to come to Africa and reading about India.

My relationship with Lucky slowly deteriorated as he began to view me as a walking wallet. A few of my romantic notions of harmony and Kenn+Africa love had to die, and this saddened me. I gained a lot of insights into life in Malawi, but the realities of engaging with people who have so little material wealth are ever present. When the Swiss girls left, I found myself quite lonely and started doubting the wisdom of coming to Africa. I found Shannon online and we decided that my problems could be solved by relocating to the backpacker's paradise of Cape MaClear and joining a group of travelers. This would turn out to be correct

I left the next morning for the Cape.

Senga Bay, Lake Malawi - Day 2

Met a fisherman named Lucky on the beach and we took his dugout canoe for a paddle to a nearby island. The open waters on this massive lake get pretty choppy, and the boat leaked a liter a minute. We spent as much time bailing water out of the boat as he did paddling. We made it to the island and walked to the highest point for a clear view of Mozambique, found some cliffs to jump off, and scared the large monitor lizards.

In the evening, we went fishing! As dusk fell, we departed by motorboat from Senga Bay and headed deep into Lake Malawi. I didn't really know what to expect - just that we were using some big nets to catch some fish. We were a crew of nine - with three dugout canoes balanced over the gunnels of the larger motored boat. Lucky was the only other English speaker. I felt like an investigative reporter as I imagined the killer blog post.

After about 30 minutes, we cut the engine and measured the depth of the water with some string. We used bright lights as bait - two canoes were dropped off each equipped with an array of Coleman lanterns. The net was strung between a third canoe and the motorboat. We'd chill out until the guys with lights saw fish, and then the motorboat would drive a circle (radius 100m) around them. Hoist in the nets and you got yo-self some fish. Pretty cool for the first five times or so.

Sometimes we caught just a hundred minnows or so. Other times we'd catch some decent sized fish along with thousands of minnows. My conservative estimate is that we caught around 130,000 fish - we lined the whole bottom of the boat. Everything smelled like fish. Interesting fact - fish-slime is not readily cleansed from cotton (my shirt) but comes out of polyester (my pants).

I was thoroughly entertained. But I got tired of fishing by about 1 am. I got really tired of fishing by 3 am. And my 4 am I hated everything about fish. When we arrived back in Senga Bay, the guys hauled the fish to the morning markets. I went to sleep.

Senga Bay, Lake Malawi - Day 1

I got let out at a highway junction near Lake Malawi in a village called Kaphalenga. The village was basically a petrol station with some huts and was too small to have taxis. A dude on a bike managed to balance me and my pack. 25 minutes and $0.70 USD I was in the bigger town of Salima, and had learned some more Chichewa. I'm trying to learn enough Chichewa to get by while in Portuguese Mozambique.

From Salima I got a ride to Senga Bay on the Lake in a half-ton pickup truck with 24 other locals headed the same way. I was one of fourteen in the truck's bed, and was happy to not be one of the eight in the mini-cab, or two who balanced on the roof of the truck. I sat on the door of the open bed balanced atop two bags of rice facing backwards. It felt rude to not wave to the children who ran along-side the truck waving at me - but my hands were busy keeping myself dubiously balanced. Wish I had a picture.

I went for a long walk along Lake Malawi when I arrived. You must walk slowly, as absolutely everybody you pass waves or says hello or strikes up a conversation - no wonder this place won Lonely Planet's "Happiest Country" award. I met many people and talked in the sand for a long while. Most notable I met my new brotha (from-anotha-motha) Rasta. He has a canoe and was loading it onto a powerboat to go deep into the lake for some fishing. He asked me to chat with him, and I asked if he needed help loading the boat. He didn't, but with some prodding invited me to fish with him. He fishes with nine others by dark using bright lights to lure fish from the deep water into the shallow nets. I got more language lessons from him while waiting for dark to fall. In this time, I also procured a lifejacket since all the boats are homemade and we were going out very deep to fish until sunrise. Sadly, a storm came and the winds blew from the south causing waves big enough to swamp the small canoes. No fishing tonight - I'll meet Rasta again at 6 am.

I checked into a room with a bed, my first mattress since Swakopmund. Pretty nice to be on the beach just 10m from the lake.

Livingstone to Malawi in Style!

The folks I rafted with on the Zambezi are traveling as part of a guided Livingstone-Nairobi tour and offered to let me join them on the 7 hour drive from Livingstone to Lusaka. They let me infiltrate the tour's ranks, and camp alongside them in Lusaka. Then they let me join them on the bus for two more full days of driving all the way to Malawi - I just had to pay for my portion of the shared food and did some chores. This was a sweet way to chill with good people, blitz-view Zambia, and make it to Lake Malawi in great time.

The tour was guided by a laid back Aussie girl, and a giggly Zimbabwean driver. The tour group was comprised of the rafting Norwegian trio, plus an Aussie couple and a sweet Kiwi priest named Jude. This made for a great forum with a small group on a large bus. I got along swimmingly with adventurous Jude, and we dined on rotten Mama Beef and got lost while trekking in some corn fields in northern Zambia. I have been invited to join up with the Norwegians again for their summit bid of Kilimanjaro on Feb 22nd - here's hoping I can make the timing fit.

I was sad to leave, but just wasn't ready for their path north to Tanzania quite yet. I asked to be let out at a highway junction near Lake Malawi in a village called Kaphalenga. Many thanks to these fine folk for their companionship, some good times, and the many miles of Zambian highway they put behind us.

Shown is me sitting to show pictures to some school children who sat to gawk at us as we ate lunch on the roadside.

Livingstone Island, Zambia

These pictures came through. Nice.

Looking Forward - Malawi

Arriving in Livingstone has been a milestone for the trip. The next major destination is Malawi. I can head through Zimbabwe into Mozambique and then north to approach Malawi from the east, or go straight through Zambia to approach it from the west. I'm curious about Zimbabwe but am too nervous to hitchhike through it. I'm not all that interested in the urban areas of Zambia but have considered a walking route through rural communities.

I spent a lot of time in the last week with Dennis, a guy who biked to Livingstone from Sweden over a period of 18 months. I'm fairly impressed by this guy. My favourite stories were of biking through Ethiopia where the local people 'just tried to screw with his head' by throwing rocks at him throughout his weeks of biking. He didn't know whether to head to the Cape via Botswana or Namibia - not an easy choice. I give him some insight into his trip planning, and discussions have got me thinking seriously about a long man-powered trip like this.

In the end the decision as to how I'll get to Malawi has been made for me, as the Norwegians I rafted with yesterday are heading to Malawi through Lusaka and have offered to give me a lift. I'll spend one more day lazing around Livingstone eating oranges and recovering from my soar throat and cold symptoms.

Kilimanjaro presses heavily on my schedule since a serious attempt will need to occur before the storms in early March. I need to be there in the next two weeks or I will not go.

I'll chill out at Lake Malawi, head into Livingstonia, and hike the nation's mountains in the south. Then either east into northern Mozambique or north into western Tanzania - both regions may not have many English speakers. That'll be interesting.

Livingstone, Zambia

I spend five days in Livingstone, Zambia near Victoria falls.

I was inspired by the tale from a fabulous African History lecture series From Lucy to Mandela, in which Kenneth P. Vickery recants a tale of his life-changing flight over Victoria Falls in a Microlight. The pilot of the Microlight let me fly, and even let me attempt a landing - which I botched and he safely brought us to the ground. The view of the falls, canyon, river, and landscape were striking. Later that night, I went dancing at a night club with 20 pretty white girls who were staying at the hostel with me. I was concerned I would have to baby-sit them and look out for their safety, but the local men were much more interested in dancing with me; they paid the girls little attention. The girls often had to rescue me from overly enthusiastic dance partners who would crawl through my legs, or hold my hands or hips while staring longingly into my eyes. They thought it was very strange that men don't dance with each other like this in Canada. Eventually I took some dance lessons from a local woman who turned out to be prostitutes.

I woke up early the second day to hang out in Zambezi National Park for sunrise. I hopped on a boat headed for Livingstone Island with a friend from the hostel and we dangled our feet over the edge of the falls and went for a swim. I hiked along the falls for most of the day - my favourite part was reaching the bottom of the canyon where you can see the big whirlpools under the falls and swim in the Zambezi. I stayed well past dark to see the Runa - a rainbow in the mist of the falls in the moonlight. An Irish photographer taught me the setup he used to photograph the falls and the night rainbow. When it was obvious the clouds were too thick, we were removed from the park and I caught a ride home with some Japanese businessmen.

I spent the third day at an orphanage in Livingstone. I had expected the orphans to be younger than 8 years old and therefore incapable of being good at soccer. It turns out that there are old orphans too and soccer is all that boys do in an orphanage. The younger orphans fought over the use of my monocular and somehow an art contest was started where the kids drew pictures of me. You could not take pictures at the orphanage because it makes the children jealous of each other. In the evening, I saw the Runa. Very faint. But it's cool to see colours in the clouds at night.

[Rafting] I spent the fourth day rafting the Zambezi with some Norwegians. We could do only the lower rapids (10 to 25) as the high water flattens the features of the upper rapids and floods the rescue helicopter's landing pads. In the first minute of paddling on flat water, one of the Norwegians lost his balance and fell out of the raft. He was promptly sucked into a big whirlpool and was submerged for about 12 seconds before he popping out wide-eyed. This made a horrible impression for all the first-time rafters and it took them a long time to loosen up and enjoy the bigger water. We flipped on one of the class 5s and jumped out many times to swim through the 'smaller' rapids. It was cool to raft in such deep water where risks from rocks are minor.

It has been awesome settling into one place for a while. The hostel I'm at is home to a bunch of nurses, doctors, and social workers who are volunteering locally. It's been very interesting to talk with the doctors and hear about the second-best health facilities in Zambia where even the most basic medical supplies are lacking. The social workers are conducting a study on gender equality in Zambia, a culture where prostitution and polygamy are the norm. It's been a great week of exploration, adrenaline, and conversation.