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Samfya to Lumangwe

November 26th – December 1st, 2021

After an unremarkable night at Samfya Beach Marine we got underway for Lumangwe Falls. There was almost 400 km to cover to Lumangwe, but we heard it was worth the effort. If we fell short, there were a few other campsites along the way. We were also interested in taking the route along the DRC border, just to flirt a little with that mysterious place and because we’d heard the road would be quite scenic. 

Not too long after getting going on a pretty decent tar road we found ourselves in Mansa and fueled up. We didn’t know at the time, but there is apparently a Shopright in Mansa, the last proper supermarket we’d likely pass for quite some time. 

A note on buying beer. Now that we were further north, beer in cans was becoming less available. Even finding where to buy beer at all is not as obvious to us as you might think. We asked at the fuel station and got the usual response, some vague directions that didn’t pan out. We kept an eye out for the telltale stack of plastic bottle crates and just on the north of town found a spot. We had managed to buy one of these plastic crates in Mpika, 35 ZMK, and were able to exchange our bottles here. Normally we prefer cans because they are lighter and save space, but that was no longer in the cards. Beer supply topped up, we pressed north and west. 

Mangos were being sold in abundance at the side of the road, in buckets or little stacks, and now they looked ripe, not the green ones we’d being seeing to date. We bought a heap of them. Small yellow mangos were priced at the equivalent of just 3 US cents each. Amazing considering they cost a dollar or two back home. What would the Zambians think if they knew?

We branched off the M3 onto the D79, and the road actually improved a little bit. It was a paved road, narrow but in reasonable condition. I think this remote part of Zambia doesn’t see enough heavy trucks to destroy the roads as fast as main routes.

First stop today was Mumbuluma Falls, which we had hoped to reach the day before. It is signposted and down a pretty nice dirt track. We bounced our way down to a formal car park and sizable entry kiosk, but it was empty. Parking, we wandered down to the falls to find the attendant finishing his morning bathing and laundry next to the falls.

He was welcoming and pointed out the features of the falls, where we could swim if we wanted to and said that we could pay our fee when we were departing. The fees for the Zambian falls are standardized across the country, foreigners pays $15 pp plus $5 vehicle fee. We are all for supporting Zambia and tourism development, but we felt that for a short visit this seemed a bit steep in pricing. If we were camping, sure, no problem. But one could easily visit a few falls in a single day while driving some of the routes, and at $35 dollars per stop, it became unreasonable. I wish that they would institute a ‘day pass’ system.

The falls were nice, a two tier fall with a pool below each one. The lower pool is seven meters deep, we’re told, and you can easily climb around either. The first fall has a shallow pool below it, and incongruously there is a half barrel braai stand in the middle of the pool on a big flat rock. I can imagine that at a party, braaing in the middle of the falls would be fun, but for now it was just getting in the way of my photos. 

We pressed on and eventually we met with the DRC border. Bright green hills in the distance as we wound our way along the eastern side of the Lupala River that forms this part of the border between the two countries. 

Part way along we came to one of the typical police road blocks found in many villages, but unlike the dozens we’ve passed in the last weeks this one had a line of vehicles waiting. We came to a stop and saw that we were in line behind a V8 Land Cruiser 76, right side drive, rare in these parts. They had Congolese registration, tinted windows, and there were several of them. I wondered what type of important people from the DRC had vehicles like these.

We waited a while, wondering how long this might take. Eventually I put on my best “tourist who has no clue” face and wandered up to the police barrier with our documents. The police quickly determined that we weren’t part of the Congolese contingent, and we were allowed to cut the line and drive onwards. Encountering these vehicles, and knowing that only people high up the food chain in eastern Congo would have several V8 land cruisers, only enhanced the mystery. 

The huge mango trees continued to drip equally huge crops of bright mangos, and little villages were more or less constant as we went along. Huts, bicycles, green trees, lots of children. This was true rural Zambia.

We stopped at the Lupala Rapids, marked on our map, to get a view of the river. Here we were quickly singled out by the government official waterfall steward. He was friendly but insisted we pay the entry fee to view the rapids. Reluctantly we paid and then were unwillingly drawn into a short hike and tour of the falls, all the while trailed by a bunch of village kids interested in the foreign travelers.

At the end we were finally released from the tour and got to actually look at what we wanted to look at. During this time we were also assaulted by the kids, demanding that we give them money. It was off putting, and again we found this to be the sort of place that had just the wrong amount of tourists. If there were fewer tourists, I don’t think this attempt at extracting funds, which felt like a bit of a hail mary, would have happened. More tourists and they’d be aware that if you pay for a tour, part of the deal is that the guide is expected to protect you from begging. Or that is our view anyway.  

After having paid twice to see falls today, and planning on paying again at Lumangwe, we skipped the next waterfall that was on the route, Ntumbachushi Falls, but it’s just as well as we didn’t have time anyway. 

At Kazembe we turned east from the river, inland, and off the tar. The dirt road, the D80, was of medium quality, but joining the D19 it went back to pretty good tar. Somewhere after Kawamba the road changed again to dirt, a frontage road for a new tar road under construction. The dirt frontage road was actually in excellent condition, and we made great time zigging and zagging around villages and the new road. This was yet another Chinese effort part way through construction. 

I’ve just finished Richard Dowden’s remarkable “Africa, Altered States, Ordinary Miracles”, who has some interesting thoughts and observations about the Chinese efforts in Africa. Definitely worth a read, he is a truly unique experience in Africa.

Finally, late in the day, we bumped down the dirt turn off for Lumangwe. Tracks4Africa’s excellent Zambia guide (thanks Ilse!) helpfully noted to not take the first turn we see on the map, as it takes you to a viewpoint of the falls on the opposite side of the river as the campsite. What a frustrating mistake that must be.

Lumangwe Falls

The entrance to Lumangwe is much more grand than the other falls we’ve visited. We signed in at the office, and even though it was November, we were told to make the date in the entry ledger December 1st. This seemed odd to us, and we pointed out the discrepancy. The park staff appealed to us that we had to make it December 1st, because his boss had closed the books for the month already. This made no sense, but we did it anyway. Then we were told that even though we paid, he had no ticket or receipt for us and would bring them tomorrow. Another red flag, but it was late in the day and we were ready for camp, so we accepted. These are the sorts of oddities one contends with on independent travel in Africa. He did in fact bring the receipt the next day.

The campsite is another couple kilometers down the track. Tight green forest flanked the road, everything looking pretty damp from recent rain. Puffy dark cumulonimbus threatened, but we thought maybe the rain had passed over already and were hoping we’d get a rain-free night in camp.

As the road brought us towards the falls, we saw the spray rising above the forest before we arrived, and drawing closer, we could hear the rumble of tumbling water. The mist rising above the trees at the end of the road is a small version of Victoria Falls, Mosi-Oa-Tunya, the smoke that thunders. This was quite a set of falls, much more water than what we’d seen so far.

The campsite is a little unclear, but there are three sites set in the back, among the trees at the top of a small slope. Down the slope there is a fourth site, with a sign that says “camping area”, and a nsaka with a thatched roof that has seen better days. We chose this one, and parking, we tentatively stepped out to see the roaring falls. Just fifty meters from our car, maybe less, was a tremendous waterfall. Amazing. We stood at the top of a smaller version of Victoria Falls, a huge cascade of water tumbling 40 meters or so, white ribbons of water plummeting down, stretched across a wide rock face in the river. It was stunning. 

Being right here at the top of the falls made it an incredible campsite. It is hard to believe that we had this place all to ourselves. It was the weekend and we thought others might be here, but not today. 

The clouds made for a dramatic sunset over the falls. After that the sky looked more ominous so we thought we had better get to it. I started a fire, we had chicken that was due for cooking, and we hoped to grill, weather permitting. 

Not long into the effort the rain started. The original plan was grilled chicken over the fire and “hobo packs,” diced potatoes and onions in foil, cooked in the coals. Instead we invented a new meal on the spot, braised chicken and potatoes. We moved the stove into the nsaka and dumped all the ingredients into the dutch oven on the gas burner. And it worked. Hiding from the rain pattering down through the hole in the roof we ate our delicious braised chicken and potatoes, cracks of lighting and thunder nearby, and the persistent roar of the waterfall just meters away.

Rain again, which we were getting tired of. But still I slept like a rock that night, the falls making the ultimate white noise machine.

The next day we relaxed at the falls. A small jungle forms in the humid spray at the base of the falls, and we took mossy stone steps to the bottom for a new viewpoint. There is also another viewpoint where you can see the full breadth of the falls. I tried to take long exposure photos of the full falls from here, but the waves of spray washed over me, and the camera, making it difficult. 

Entry to Lumangwe Falls also includes Kabweluma Falls, a few kilometers down the road. We began to gear up for a hike to this second fall but ran out of steam. Sometimes you just need a lazy day in camp. I feel a little silly complaining about waterfall prices, and then at the one place you get two for one entry, we didn’t take advantage of it! If you make it this far, don’t follow our example. 

This river seemed much more full than the others we’d seen so far. Most are low as we are at the end of a long dry season, the rains just getting going. But this river was running strong. 

Again we experienced the small irony of visiting the waterfalls of Zambia. No running water. Which in and of itself is no big deal, but there is an ambitious ablution building with men’s and women’s toilets, sinks and showers. Also a large water tank on a tower to provide water pressure, but I guess the pump is long broken. It must have been this way for some time, as every report of visiting here I’ve read says the same thing. 

That night rain came again, but we were well prepared this time and had a pleasant evening. We purchased our 270° awning a while ago, but only got to use it for a week before we had to dash home for the initial stages of covid in March 2020. This time around it was proving to be a really great addition to our camp setup; being able to set it up and put it away so easily meant we could pop up shelter from the rain without a fuss.

Leaving Lumangwe we had decided to make for Mpulungu, the town on the coast of Lake Tanganyika and land locked Zambia’s only port. There are other waterfalls between here and there, but the Lumangwe falls were so spectacular it seemed like the others might pale with the low water levels in many of the rivers. 

Also we were feeling a bit soggy, having been rained on many successive nights. Our camping setup is still not very rain equipped, even with the success of the awning. We need to work on that.

Mpulungu and Covid Testing

We made a bit of a strategic error in applying for our Tanzanian e-visas. The e-visa means you apply online and provide all your details and receive a letter of approval to present at the border. At the time of application we just guessed on our arrival date, and the visa letter says, “Not to be issued before December 1st,” so we have to dally an extra day or two for that. Otherwise we might have crossed a little earlier.

The road out from Lumangwe is rough dirt road all the way to Mporokoso. Normally a rough red-dirt road through the lush green countryside is kind of fun, but when it’s so rough that I can’t sip my morning coffee, I start to resent it a bit. 

We pass through village after village, sparsely populated. It seems most are working on planting fields, and we see fresh rows of earth and some fields with tiny green shoots coming up. 

There is no traffic at all, just bicycles and pedestrians. We note a difference here up north to down south. In the south when you drive along a narrow dirt road, the bicyclists frequently just run off the road and stop or purposefully crash their bikes to get out of your way. Most of the bikes are a Chinese copy of an old British design and have terrible brakes. I know because I have one at home. Combined with heavy loads they are hard to control. I always feel bad about this, but even when we drive on the verge to leave them room, they don’t risk it, no doubt having been run off the road many times before. However up north the cyclists will edge over to the side and keep going, no crashing. 

From Mporokoso we make it to the relief of an excellent tar road. It’s wonderful to be able to finish my coffee and drive along so easily. I’m always torn. I feel they are paving Africa at a tremendous pace, and soon we can do this tour in a sedan, and I’ll be missing out on all the romance of red dirt tracks deep in the bush. Conversely, here I am thankful that we finally made it onto a smooth road. Tourists (or maybe just me) are difficult to please.

Here we get cell reception for the first time in a few days and with it an avalanche of covid Omicron news. Concerned emails from friends and family and forwarded news articles. What should we think about all this? I checked the Overland Africa WhatsApp group, about 90 travelers that are on the road all over southern and eastern Africa, and it is blowing up. Many in this group are from the UK, and their travel insurance will be invalid if they enter a red listed country. The texts came fast and furious through the rest of the day as everyone tries to figure out what to make of the news.

It seems most in the WhatsApp group are not concerned about the actual epidemiological risk. Though I place Jenny and I somewhere along the the “covid cautious” side of the risk spectrum, once you make the leap to travel here, you are accepting some level of increased risk. A little bit of fatalistic African culture I suppose. 

I can’t tell if many in the Overland Group don’t care at all, or if they are just getting down to brass tacks, as essentially this is a logistical problem. Will there be border restrictions? Will there be lockdowns? Do we need to get somewhere that we can hole up to wait out impending closures, if any? Many waited out the last round of lockdowns in Namibia. It’s inexpensive and has generally very good infrastructure. We know of at least a few that are beelining it that way to sit tight and see what happens. 

We are headed the opposite way, towards Tanzania. I think that for the most part, all but the most extreme countries like Israel, Australia and New Zealand are done with complete lockdowns. Africa certainly has to soldier on. No matter what they will just find a way to keep things working. Still, we spend much of the rest of the day on the road pondering this new threat. I’m deeply saddened that this seems to be the world that we now live in. An endless watch of the news for the new variant, what are the new restrictions, every day a risk evaluation.

This all swirling in our heads we turn off our beautiful tar road onto an unnamed dirt track that is a shortcut to the M1 or the Old Great North Road. This chops off an hour or so of travel time and is in reasonable condition. We stopped for lunch here, and a local wanders over to see what we’re up to. He doesn’t speak any English and we no Bemba. It’s not much of a conversation, and he just watches us eat. This is no doubt a preview of what is to come, where further up into more densely populated East Africa, it is hard to make a roadside stop without company. I remember last time stopping and immediately running to the bushes to pee before the inevitable crowd of children showed up to watch what the mzungus (white people, or I think technically “Europeans” in Swahili) were up to.

Mpulungu isn’t on the tourist track, but it still has a nice location on one of the great rift valley lakes. We drop down the escarpment from the plateau, and it gets warmer, more humid, and thankfully less rainy. We’re staying at the Lake Tanganyika Lodge, a couple kilometers west of town. It’s sits on the rocky beach shore and has a really nice covered deck with a view of the lake, restaurant and bar and some modest chalets. 

The camp site is in fact just a flat place to park near the restaurant, just 5 meters from the lake. We have a spectacular view but zero privacy. There is something about a designated campsite that normally gives you a little place to call your own, but here it doesn’t really feel like that. 

None the less the manager is extremely friendly and easy to talk to, and we chatted a bit. About Zambia, covid, border closures and the rest, and we feel comfortable and welcome here.

Now we need to figure out our strategy going forward. A well connected Zambian friend has sent me the new Zambia covid rules, including that you may not come into Zambia or leave unless you are double vaccinated. This turns out to not be true, but is a good example of the difficulty of information dissemination. Kenya has also announced that staff and tourists must be vaccinated to enter National Parks and some other government facilities, So it seems Africa is getting serious about vaccination at some level.  

We hope to cross into Tanzania at the sleepy Zombe/Kasesya border crossing, just north of Mbala, and head to the Lakeshore Lodge for some relaxing on the beach and recuperating from our damp adventures in Zambia. Lakeshore Lodge is well known among overlanders, a really nice lodge on the beach with excellent facilities and also a campsite. The very good restaurant, lounge area and other activities are available to campers, and it’s a welcome respite from the more rugged stops before and after. Not much else in the whole of southwest Tanzania can offer similar accommodation.

Word is the Kasesya border post is officially closed for covid, but a few reports of successful crossings by tourists have trickled in. Tanzania’s website is not up to date for this sort of thing, so we’ll just have to go, take a look and see what happens. If we can’t cross here, it’s a day minimum diversion to drive to the next border, Tunduma, which is busy and hectic.

We spent two days here drying out a bit, watching the fishermen not far off shore and waiting for December 1st to roll around for our visas to be valid. We got the car washed in town and picked up a few provisions, though Mpulungu has no “supermarket” in the sense we are used to. Road-side stalls and numerous little shops stock various odds and ends. 

We also needed a covid test before going to Tanzania. The manager said you can get a PCR test in Mbala, about an hour away up the escarpment. After some calling around, we learned that their PCR machine is broken, and we’d have to drive all the way back to Kasama. Other news was that Tanzania, for better or worse, might be accepting rapid antigen tests for crossing. 

With that news we figured we’d get a rapid antigen test, available at the clinic here in Mpulungu, bring the results to the border and see if it worked. These sort of uncertainties are just part of traveling now. We’re fortunate that we have the time to backtrack, if needed, for our PCR.

So far on our trip we’ve felt pretty covid safe, excepting the crowds of locals when we got stuck getting out of Bangweulu. We’ve met up and chatted with lots of people, but always outside and not in big groups. When we go into stores or buildings, we wear masks, though increasingly we’re finding ourselves alone in this effort. Pleasantly the manager of the Lake Tanganyika Lodge had her staff wearing masks upon the announcement of Zambia’s increased covid mitigation efforts on Nov 28th. 

Now we drove up to the clinic in Mpulungu, and immediately it seemed the most likely place we would get covid was here. It was fairly crowded, and I only saw two people wearing masks other than ourselves the whole time we were here. This clinic did not compare well at all to the professional and organized hospital we’d visited for PCR testing in Namibia.

We asked around, were guided through a door marked “no unauthorized entry” into the laboratory. After more waiting we got our antigen tests. Results negative. Then we asked for the paperwork to show at the border. They looked at us, “Certificate? There is no certificate.” Hmm. We said we understood that this wasn’t a PCR test, but could they just give us something, anything, that said we got antigen tested and were negative. 

They discussed it and said we could get something. We’d have to wait. There was no charge for the tests, to encourage people to get tested they said, but the certificate was 100 ZMK, about $6 USD, each. Something about the whole thing started to not smell quite right. A while later we paid, and they handed us two pieces of paper stating that our PCR tests were negative. With no receipt.

We had inadvertently bribed the lab staff for our test results, or paperwork anyway. We processed this while we were shown out. One of the clinical officers wanted to exchange WhatsApp numbers and email addresses and show us around town, but we demurred, trying to shake off the attention and think about what just happened. In hindsight it was obvious, but at the time it wasn’t as clear, and Africa had just taught us a little lesson.

What now? We had the “right” paperwork. Through our many travels in Africa, we’ve had no trouble traveling without having to resort to any shady business. I don’t like supporting the habit of some officials who try to make extra money on the side; it just makes it harder for future travelers. When officials think they can “come to an arrangement” that benefits them, it supports future corruption, one of Africa’s biggest blights. 

I share this vignette with you not because I am proud of it, but because that is what happened and I thought you might find it interesting how these things transpire. We sat uncomfortably with these thoughts and wondered what to do from here. We could drive to Kasama, get tested again and come back the next day. Perhaps that is what we should have done.

Instead we decided to proceed to the border and just hope that they didn’t ask for the certificates. I’d read that Tanzania was doing rapid tests at the border for entry, so perhaps they weren’t expecting these anyway? 

With another day to wait for our visas the next morning, we left Mpulungu and made our way to Kalambo Falls. Kalambo Falls is the second highest free drop waterfall in Africa, at about 200m. It’s also right on the border, with one side of the river being Tanzania and the other Zambia. 

It took us about two hours, an hour to Mbala where we fueled up, and another hour to the falls. Out of Mbala the road turns to a graded gravel road, and not far north we turned off at the signposted road to Kalambo. Down, down, down it goes, and at the very end is a steep and rocky decent, definitely 4×4 required.

Like many of the waterfalls it is well signposted. There is a parking area and an open air hall with a desk for ticketing. We took the steps that led down a hill towards the falls. At the bottom of the steps we found ourselves perched at the head of a large gorge, with the river and waterfall to our right, and the deep amphitheater of the gorge stretching off to our left. We could see the water spilling over the edge, but you can’t really see where it goes.

We walked right down to the waters edge, and there is a rock that sticks out over the precipice.  Those not worried about heights can creep their way out to the edge and look down. Jenny and I took a peek, and though I am not normally worried about heights, I was a bit concerned about the geologic integrity of the rock, so I made a hasty retreat. 

The path winds its way along the southern rim of the gorge, well maintained cement steps that follow the edge, up and down as needed with a nice steel hand railing all the way. Along the way are six viewpoints to get various looks at the falls. It is probably a kilometer or so to the last viewpoint, which we thought was the best.

The river wasn’t high, and still the falls were impressive. At the last viewpoint you can see the full drop. Also along the cliff face we looked down on huge numbers of swallows darting around, and we spent quite a while watching their acrobatics from our unique angle.

The campsite at Kalambo Falls is modest. Jenny looked at the ablutions and reported that she felt she would probably have been the first customer in quite a long time. The campsite itself is set on a sort of steep slope, and large cement pads have been poured to pitch your tent on. For vehicles with a roof top tent there isn’t much available, and I suspect they’d have let us camp in the parking area.

Instead we elected to go to the Great Kalambo Falls Lodge, 500m or so down the road. They have some small chalets, a simple restaurant and a camping area. There is pretty much only one spot, or maybe two if you were traveling together, for vehicles with roof top tents. They also had a few flat cement pads cut into the slope. Around the camp are a couple thatched shelters. From the camp it is only a couple minute walk to the rim of the gorge to look at the falls, a sign reminds that payment is still required even if only viewing from here.

It rained on us again, and we retreated to a thatched shelter. We were starting to have the first signs of travel fatigue. The days of rain combined with moving too often were wearing on us. We used to have a “two-night minimum” rule, to avoid the fatigue that comes with moving too often, but we were in a rush to get north out of Zambia’s rain, and also so we didn’t have to rush through Tanzania. We were still in good spirits, but the luxuries of Lakeshore Lodge in Tanzania beckoned, and we were really looking forward to a rest there.

Border Crossing Day, Dec 1st 2021

(apologies if this digresses into the technical, but detailed border reports are precious to others traveling)

Today was border crossing day. It would be interesting, with our dodgy paperwork and conflicting reports on whether this border was even open. Worst case we’d retreat to Kasama, get tested, and make our way to Tunduma. From Tunduma it’s long haul to Lakeshore Lodge, so then the question would be was it worth it to go all that way from Tunduma, and then back track all the way back east after our stay there. Since we didn’t know of any equal accommodation in southern Tanzania, Lakeshore was starting to seem a bit like a pot of gold at the end of the rainbow.

Tunduma is reportedly a hectic crossing, being the main transit point for all cargo from Tanzania’s ports to land locked Zambia, so motivation to avoid this border was high. There are many reports of people taking the whole day to cross here.

Our little border post is called Zombe/Kasesya, or confusingly sometimes after the nearest larger town, Mbala. We used this border in 2018, and then the road from Mbala to the border was atrocious, but we discover that it has been redone, now a swift, graded dirt road. 

Officially this border post is open from 0600. We arrived after an easy hour or so drive at 0730, and only the cleaner was there, no officials. This small office held two rooms and toilets, and though they weren’t open, they were spotlessly clean.

After a while, the immigration officials showed up and directed us to the health tent. Two days earlier Zambia had implemented a new round of Omicron-related covid rules, and this included covid screening on exit from the country. We handed over our certificates from the Mpulungu clinic, and with hardly a glance, they said we were approved and sent us on our way. Our integrity now officially compromised, we went to immigration. 

Part way through processing us, the senior official said that we should check with customs first. He said that he had no issue with stamping us out, and that the Tanzanian side was open. But he said that sometimes customs doesn’t want to let vehicles through, that the border is for crossing on foot only.

The customs official wasn’t here yet, so we waited. He showed up in not too long, talked to a business man entering from Tanzania, and then sat down with us. We asked if he would stamp our vehicle carnet for exiting. He thought about this for a while and said that he couldn’t do that, that this border was officially closed for vehicles. 

Jenny and I resorted a little bit to “good cop/bad cop,” though our version of “bad cop” is pretty benign. More like “keep waiting around to see if you get lucky cop.” She empathized and appreciated that he was following proper procedure while I continued to ask if there was any way to gain an exemption to the closure. 

I had read several reports online, iOverlander and Facebook, of travelers crossing here without issue, no bribes or exceptions necessary, thus my persistence. This official expressed his distaste for Tunduma, acknowledging that it is a long diversion and a border post worth avoiding. He also said he wished this post was open, but it wasn’t. Eventually he said he would call his boss and make our case and that if the boss approved, he would stamp us out. 

We listenedto him chat away with his supervisor in Tunduma. His supervisor agreed to let us pass if we had an agent process some additional paperwork that he termed a “re-route”. We had no idea how to actually do this and were starting to wonder if this was an elaborate attempt to levy a bribe. He said he would call an agent at Tunduma who could process the re-route for us, and once it showed up in the system on his computer, he would stamp us out. No mention of money so far, and we kept our mouths shut.

More waiting. Eventually he waved us back in and said that the system was down, but he would stamp us out now and could process us in the computer system when it was back online. Excellent! Part way through his signing of the carnet he said that there is a fee for the re-route, $50 USD. “To the shipping agent?” I asked. 

“Yes. He will send you an invoice and receipt to your WhatsApp number,” he said. 

If this came with an official invoice I felt it was legitimate, particularly since he didn’t request we pay him directly. He got my number, stamped us out and that was it. Immigration processed us quickly and we were off to the Tanzania side.

On the Tanzania side they first sent us to health screening. Again, with some shame, we handed over our certificates. She said if we didn’t have these she would give us a rapid antigen test at no cost and, if negative, let us through. So at this particular border post on this particular day, no PCR test required for entry. They also checked our yellow fever vaccination certificates.

At immigration we handed over our e-visa approval letters. She had never seen one of them before but knew about them, and after making some notes, stamped us in. Our visas were one-year multiple-entry visas, so we would not need new ones when we made our way south in a few months. 

The customs officer brought us into his office. He asked if we had a carnet, and I said yes, but isn’t it true that in Tanzania you need a TIP (Temporary Import Permit) for the vehicle regardless of whether you have a carnet? I had learned this on Facebook of all places. He responded that I was correct. In this case, in Tanzania, the carnet doesn’t get you anything, unlike most countries where it circumvents the need for a TIP and typically is valid for the duration of the carnet, up to one year. 

Part way through him processing our TIP he asked for our vehicle’s police clearance. Police clearance? I had never heard of anyone needing a police clearance for Tanzania. I asked if we needed one. “Yes, it is a requirement.” Hmm. I handed him our police clearance, now two years old. He didn’t look at it, made a copy and handed it back. I asked what if we didn’t have one and he responded that it would be okay, not a problem.

This is usually when people say “TIA”. This is Africa. No more explanation given or needed, just that sometimes things don’t make sense, but still work anyway. I pressed him further and he explained that it is actually a requirement if you don’t own the vehicle, presumably to differentiate stolen vehicles from those with hired drivers, like trucks. I suspect a letter of authorization from the owner, as most rental companies will provide, would also suffice.

The TIP can be issued for 30, 60 or 90 days, at a cost of $25, $45 or $60 USD. $5 of that is a road tax, the rest is the TIP fee. Payment is made via mobile money, no credit card or cash accepted. This is an effort to reduce corruption at borders, with the slight flaw that many foreigners entering don’t have a mobile money account. 

The work around for this is – the customs agent calls a guy who comes on a motorcycle. You pay him cash; he pays your TIP on his phone, coded to a number in the system, and then the system spits out your TIP once it has confirmed payment. 

In this case the customs agent was in a hurry to be somewhere and paid our TIP fee out of his personal Mpesa (mobile money) account, and we paid him. We were $2000 TZ shilling short, a little less than $1 USD. We offered to change more money, but the customs agent just wanted to be rid of us and didn’t care about the difference. 

There we go, 3 hours at the border, mostly just waiting, and we were in Tanzania. Lakeshore Lodge here we come. 

Nitty Gritty

Nov 26th – Samfya to Lumangwe – 399km, 10h 17m with lots of stopping.

Nov 28th – Lumangwe to Mpulungu 355km, 8h 16m

Mumbuluma Falls

The campsite here is basic but fine, set off to the side of the kiosk, but not much in the way of facilities or privacy. It would be fine for an overnight stop over, but I wouldn’t recommend it as a destination unto it’s own. As I think I mentioned before, there is a little lack of clarity on whether the $15 entry includes camping, or it’s another $15 to camp. The Lumangwe pricing is $15 once, very clearly, and I think this is supposed to be standardized across all the falls. I think I would stand my ground if asked to pay for camping and entry separately.

Lumangwe Falls

A really great destination, highly recommended and worth the effort to get here. It’s quite a haul if coming on the route we took, via the DRC. Coming from Kapishya/Kasama side it would be faster.  

It would be slightly disappointing to arrive and not get the campsite right at the waterfalls. The ones at the back are fine enough with good shade, but the uniqueness of camping right at the falls is spectacular. I think if you arrive during the week the risk of not getting your choice of sites is small.

One factor that might bother some is if you are at the sight adjacent to the falls day visitors have to walk through your site to visit the top of the falls. This did happen to us, a group of medical students from Kasama, but they were very nice and we chatted for a bit, we didn’t find it obtrusive. 

Firewood provided on request, we tipped the staff member who brought it.

There is a large Chinese run market on the opposite side of the road from the LBM fuel station marked on T4A. Stock was eclectic, but it did have staples, wine and liquor and snacks.

Lake Tangyanyika Lodge 

I confess I forgot to note the cost here, but I think it was 100 ZMK/$6.00 USD pppn. They had a small restaurant and we had a nice dinner here, though service was very slow, as we found to be common in Zambia. Power is unreliable, but they have their own generator, until it ran out of fuel.

Ablutions were shared with the restaurant, a simple cold shower and two toilets. Clean, basic, but fully functional, 2.5/5.

The camp site itself is just a rocky place to park for one vehicle. Not suitable for a trailer.

Kalambo Falls

The official campsite was unappealing to us, though if you’re on a budget camping is part of your entry fee it’d certainly get the job done. Entry is the same as at the other falls, $15 USD pp + $5 vehicle fee, includes camping, or just viewing the falls, all in the same price.

The Great Kalambo Falls Lodge

Camping was 150 ZMK pppn, ~$8.50 USD. While I wouldn’t say that this makes a destination in and of itself it is certainly an upgrade from the Kalambo Falls campsite. They also have a restaurant. We were the only people here and the manager said we were the first people to stay in a long time. Ablutions, 2/5, though when there was trouble with the water they gave us the key to a chalet to shower there, which was much nicer. 

There should have been running water, but we found it to be intermittent and the camp staff had to keep fiddling with a pump and some valves. 

Photography

For the “smooth” waterfall photos I used a tripod, a .5 to 2.5 second exposure, a narrow f-stop of f/16-f/18 and in bright conditions I also needed an ND filter, otherwise the photo was over exposed. I have a variable ND filter, which did produce more vignetting than I would prefer. To take photos like that without all that stuff just wait until later in the day, no ND filter needed, and  prop your camera on a rock, tree stump or whatever, and use a .5 sec exposure.

I’m using a Sony A9 and A7III, both of which are weather resistant, and two of my three lenses are also weather resistant, so I didn’t worry too much about the spray from the waterfall.