Across The Ruacana Causeway, Gateway To Angola
This is part 2 of our Angola trip. Find part 1 here.
At the Ruacana border post, we started with immigration on the Namibian side. The officer was confused as to why we had a full visa stamp in our passports, rather than the normal entry stamp that a US or EU citizen would receive. This quiet and dusty border post at the frontier had not been given the message about the new visa regulations. We explained that now citizens of the US, EU and many other countries require a visa. He was incredulous, but after some discussion, stamped our passports and sent us to customs.
At customs, we simply signed our details into an old, worn ledger, and that was it. There was no inspection; we were waved along, and all the officials returned to sitting in the shade outside the office to wait for the next traveler.
No man’s land is brief, and in no time we found ourselves in front of the Angolan border office. There was nobody else there. Inside a cavernous room, a series of vacant counters lined the walls, and at the end, a single officer was in attendance. He politely explained that he was customs and we’d need to finish with immigration first; he went to summon him.
While waiting, we sat in a few lone chairs and observed the room. It was enormous, with very high ceilings and, somewhat amusingly, the finishing touch of crown molding. Some of the ceiling tiles were stained from leaks, and the whole place had an air of an imposing but aging bureaucracy, which I suppose it is.
We waited some more, and a few other travelers arrived. They were locals dressed in a mash up of tribal and western dress. The women were topless, and two of the men had the smallest hats I have ever seen, they must have been pinned in the hair to keep from falling off. We had been in Angola for 20 minutes, and already it was another world.
The immigration man arrived, and things got off to a rocky start when it became apparent we didn’t speak Portuguese. We muddled through with my lousy Spanish, which can serve as a clumsy proxy to get the job done. He then requested the phone number of where we were staying in Angola. We were unprepared for this, but I thought I might have the contact info of the Flamingo Lodge, planned to be our northernmost stop after passing through the park. This number was rejected, as it was a South African number (the lodge is managed by a South African). After a scramble, I managed to offer up the African Parks phone number for Iona from their website. This satisfied him, though thank goodness he didn’t call to check, who knows if the number was active, and they certainly didn’t know we were coming.
He did not give us our passports back, but sent us to the customs officer. We provided the required documents, including a Police clearance (ours is out of date, but he did not check), as well as printed photos of all four sides of the vehicle. I suppose if you did not bring these ahead they would just take photos with their phones. He accepted the customs fee of 6336 Kwanza in Namibian Rand, which was convenient, since we didn’t have any Kwanza yet.
Then it was time for the vehicle inspection. Here, two police officers in fatigues awaited us, looking solemn and insisting we open up various compartments of the car. No problem there, but it was hard to take seriously as one of them was wearing one combat boot and one flip-flop. Old one-shoe was thorough, and once satisfied, we were instructed to pose with our vehicle, and they took many photos of us with our car. What is this for? I have no idea. I suppose if we cause some trouble, they have some kind of mug shot of who’s the culprit?
After all this, we still had not been given our passports, and we reminded the immigration officer again that we would need them back, and he handed them over.
But still no money changers. We found ourselves asking the immigration officer where to find a money changer, and while this is technically illegal, happily, he was unfazed by this. He got in the car with us and guided us into the little village near the border. Here we negotiated to change less money than we wanted, but hopefully it’d be enough to pay our park fees.
Across the Ruacana
With the border complete, we headed for the causeway that crosses the Cunene. The river was raging, with one spillway fully open and water boiling around the supports of the bridge, a wonderful and dramatic way to enter the country.
A friend of ours had warned us that the traveling was very, very slow going, but we made the turn towards Chitado and were able to trundle along at a decent pace on a modest graded gravel road. It was mopane scrubland for miles, and all was well.
Jenny pointed out a tree with a red and white paint mark on it, “I wonder what that is?” Another went by, and it dredged up my reading on landmines. Yeah, those. Here we were, not an hour from the border, and there were warnings of mines, leftover from decades of civil war. While landmines are a well-known risk in Angola, one of the most mine-ridden countries in the world, they are rarely referred to in reports of traveling to Iona. The highest concentration of mines is in the eastern provinces, where NGOs are collaborating with the Angolan government to systematically remove mines.
Here we were clearly safe on the road, but I would certainly not be taking a hike in the forest, that’s for sure. Depending on the source, there are 33-35 Suspected Hazard Areas (SHAs) in Cunene province alone, which we were driving across. Whether these red and white markers were marking an SHA, a cleared area, or something else was unclear. We’ll just stick to the road, thanks. Spoiler alert: After getting home, I did some digging and found that we were not near any known minefields—more on landmines in another post.
The going was easy and relatively fast through the rural countryside. Eventually, we arrived at the small town of Chitado, which was undergoing some major construction. Heavy equipment, trenches and workers were everywhere, busily digging, building, and redirecting. What prompted such a frenzy of activity in this far off place, we couldn’t say.
Iona National Park, what it is and how to get there:
Iona National Park was proclaimed as a reserve in 1937, and upgraded to park status in 1964. More recently has been under the management of African Parks since 2020. Before the decades of conflict (either 1961 to 2002, or 1975-2002, depending on whether you count the pre-independence insurgency), the park was home to elephant, black rhino, lions and generally a greater number of animals and wildlife. The decades of neglect have resulted in the total eradication of the big charismatic megafauna. Oryx, springbok, zebra, brown hyena, and some recently reintroduced giraffe are resident, though the land is predominantly desert, so the land won’t support large densities of animals even under normal conditions.
Most visitors to the park are Angolans, on fishing trips to the coast or as part of tours. These visitors enter the park from the north, either from Ponta Albina or the Solendjamba gate.
If you find yourself one of the few travelers approaching the park from the Namibian border, the approach is from the east. Typically, the route taken is to Oncocua, then turn west on the EN295 and enter the park at S16.69° E13.017°. There is no sign or any indication that you’ve crossed into a National Park, but in another day of driving, you’d find yourself driving through the village of Iona, and eventually to Espenhierra, where the park maintains a base. That this route gains an “EN” designation, meaning Estrada Nacional, or National Road, is amusing, as it is no more than a rocky two-spoor track crossing dozens of dry riverbeds. This route is remote, rugged and slow going.
But there is another way. The other way, which I will call the Monte Negro track, after the village on this route, does not attain the “EN” designation, nor should it. It is longer, even slower, crosses hundreds of dongas and even less is written about it. Naturally, this is the route we took.
Turning off the pleasantly graded gravel road north of Chitado, the road immediately turns into a simple two-spoor track. The rain had been good to the land, with everything looking bright and green. The villages all had full fields of maize, the goats were fat with sleek coats. Some of the young men had the most spectacular hair-doos, a sort of braided reverse mohawk thing, sometimes with a sheath or hat; very impressive.
The baobab trees are abundant here, thick in full leaf. This track overwhelmed us with bucolic beauty. One can’t help but imagine that if you were going to live a simple life in a rural village, this looked like a near ideal place for it. Of course, we were seeing it in the best of times. No doubt, during extended periods of drought, it’s a different story.
The road became fainter and fainter, descending into a single motorcycle track wandering westward. It must be driven by cars from time to time, but not enough to keep an obvious second line for the tires. We drove slowly, occasionally having to backtrack, wondering if this was a good idea.
The sun sank towards the horizon, and it was time to find a place to camp. There are no formal campsites on the way to Iona, and even if we had started at the crack of dawn there was no way to avoid bush camping somewhere. Near the road was a river that had recently flooded but had now receded to a modest creek. We pulled off, not as far from the road as we’d prefer, and made camp on the riverbank.
Normally, when we wild camp, we go to great lengths to be out of sight of the road, but that was not easy to do here, and something about the remote track with the odd motorcycle passing by made us less concerned about security than we usually would be.
Late in the day and with an idyllic creek nearby, it was a good enough spot for us. When we bush camp we find a spot, park and then set up our chairs and feel things out for a time (totally coincidentally, it usually takes about the same amount of time as it takes to drink a beer), and then make camp. That way, if we realize we’re not comfortable with the spot, it’s not a production to pick up and move on.
This bush camp suited us nicely. A motorcycle passed by, music booming from his phone and his eyes laser-focused on the track ahead, he didn’t even notice us. We were continually impressed by the skills of the motorcyclists; the tracks are rocky and sandy and quite technical to ride. Another passed by, and after doing a double take gave we waved and he returned with a smile and a friendly wave.
We skipped the fire and had a simple dinner, sitting on the riverbank and watching the stars come out. It felt like we were doing some proper overlanding, and we felt good.
In the morning, we had a pleasant coffee time by the river and a slow start. We were here to experience Angola; there was no need to dash off at sunrise like we would on a game drive in a park.
Happily, the track improved, and we made our way without too many obstacles towards the village of Monte Negro. We meandered through these far flung backwaters of Angola, enjoying the environment, the slow and rocky track, and the odd passerby on a motorcycle. There were not many. There are several river crossings, but they were all dry at the time.
Bird life was good, but we found birding in Angola to be difficult; the birds were not cooperative about it. As soon as we picked up our binoculars, they would flit off, unlike the more congenial birds in Namibia and Botswana.
Next time:
- The village of Monte Negro
- We get an “opportunity” to use the MaxTrax
The Nitty Gritty
Travel time, Ruacana border post to bushcamp: 4h 22m
Avg speed: 28 kph
Distance: 122 km
Links to Other Angolan Reports of the Monte Negro route:
• Photographer Paul Godard’s blog and report of taking the Monte Negro Track
• A report on the 4x4Community Forum by member “La Leona” – They were only a week or so behind us, and we had been in touch during our trip to swap notes.
• Another excellent 4x4Community report by RodS, taking part of the track we drove, but then going further north and turning west on the EN 295 approach.
There are many other good reports of visits to Iona on the 4x4community.co.za forum, notably those by Stan Weakly and Wazungu Wawilli
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