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Leaving Lusaka

November 19th – 23rd, 2021

Fringilla’s Pies

After four nights in Lusaka taking care of various chores and making new friends, we were tired of the city. It was time to leave. Our first target was Kundalila Falls, reportedly one of Zambia’s most attractive waterfalls and, as I believe all waterfalls in Zambia are designated, a national monument.

It’s quite a ways from Pioneer Camp to Kundalila, 496 kms of not particularly attractive, traffic-ridden, Great North Road.  To break the trip up we decided to stop off at Fringilla Farm on the way. After an easy morning of packing, blog posting and correspondence at Pioneer, we set off at 1300, hoping to maybe miss some of Lusaka’s traffic on the way out of town.

We started with a failed attempt to renew our tourist visas at the airport immigration office (you must go downtown). We’ll try again next week in Mpika. I’ve read many reports of immigration officers refusing to extend tourist visas if the request was made too early, so waiting until Mpika seemed best anyway.

Then the rain started. Driving through Lusaka in heavy rain you start to see why those deep gutters on the side of the road are there. The roads became awash in short order, but drivers seemed to adjust accordingly, and everyone walking around just got on with it. 

We are coming to terms with the fact that the rainy season has in fact arrived. Typically it sets in somewhere between mid November and December, and this year is no exception. Camping in the rain for a day or two is no problem, but for longer it’s not really our cup of tea. Our camp setup just doesn’t handle rain well, something we will work on. If the rains get serious quickly, then we will have to adjust our plans and scoot up to Tanzania sooner I suppose. We’ll see how it goes.

Rain Camping Tangent

…you may skip ahead: A few interesting issues have revealed themselves in our setup. Since our land cruiser is configured very similar to a lot of others, maybe these details will help someone else:

The Tent: The Gen3 Alu-Cab tent is pretty good. However, as with most roof top tents, the tent is all mattress, there is no other space, so any water you bring in with you is now on your bed. The Alu-Cab tent has the tent door inside the mosquito mesh, and this allows you to lay the door out over your bedding to give you a little bit of space to try to get dry before fully climbing in. 

It does not however solve the shoe problem. Where do you put your wet shoes? This is another roof top tent flaw, though truth be told our less expensive, folding, easy-awn tent had a little strip at the bottom where you could put shoes. Still though, if they were wet/sandy/muddy, this would get all over your bed when you stowed the tent. Alu-Cab and other companies have started making a ‘shoe bag’ that hangs outside the tent, to put your muddy shoes in so they don’t fill with rain, but also keep them outside the bed. I wonder if this actually works more than one night, because I’d guess your hands and shoes would get dirty going in and out of there after a day or two. Then you’re in your tent with dirty hands. We use wet wipes, but then you have to do something with those… the cycle continues. Our solution is to change into flip flops right before bed, and tuck them outside the tent by the gas strut before climbing in. Not a perfect solution, but simple at least. We still have a lot of room for improvement on that front.

The Awning: We have a 270 awning, the Alu-Cab one. It is for the most part great, barring its two major flaws, weight up high (22kgs, I think) and price. But it sets up very fast and easy, and importantly stows easily as well. Our old awning was an Eezi-Awn 2000, and I wouldn’t wish one on my worst enemy. Its flaws are numerous, but chiefly it is a total pain to put up, to stow, is rattly as can be on the road due to its aluminum case and fails at its primary aim, to provide shade or protection from the rain. This is because it isn’t very big, so unless the sun is at it’s zenith or the rain falling perfectly straight with no wind, then there is only protection for one person, and even that is a stretch sometimes. 

Back to the 270. If it rains heavily, water will pool and spill off the sides periodically, typically onto a person or your cooking table or something equally inconvenient. I emailed Alu-Cab and asked about this, and they said, “Yeah, if it rains hard that happens. Do you want to buy the storm tie down kit?” The storm kit comes with, among other things, a little gutter to keep water from dripping into the canopy at the back, in the slot between the awning and the back door of the canopy. The ridiculousness of this I can’t quite comprehend, as water comes in on the sides much more, and having a gutter in the one spot where water hardly comes in at all doesn’t really solve my problem. 

Quibbles on the awning aside, we have sheltered from the rain a lot in that thing recently, and it is a lifesaver. Note that Alu-Cab sells sides for the awning, making it a little walled shelter. This appeals to me, except that the sidewalls weight 15kgs and are a significant sized duffle when stowed that would use up a lot of space, and they are also expensive. 

The Canopy: This is the chief problem. The side wings of the canopy open, providing a modest shelter for a person to at least maybe make a sandwich or a coffee on the side of the road. Nice. However, the rain falls on the canopy wing that is open and funnels that water inward and down into the canopy contents. Not a great feature. I tried to make a gutter out of an old bicycle tube, but encountered technical difficulties. If we could overcome this issue, we’d be much more rain resilient, but not being able to open the canopy door for long, even on the awning side, is a pretty big flaw. No doubt after Alu-Cab reads this, with my double digit fan base, they will jump right on this problem. 

The Cab: The feet of the Frontrunner roof rack clamp onto the gutter rail on the top of the cab, which works very well and to date has been very robust. However, the feet block the gutter from its primary purpose, draining water, and this means that when you open the passenger back door, where I happen to keep my clothes and camera gear, water drips directly onto the back seat at a rapid pace. Another problem to figure out. 

We also have this very nice dash cover with little pockets in it. It protects the dash from the beating down African sun and provides a handy place to store small things, cables, a flash light, a pocket knife, covid masks, etc. However, it also, for the most part, totally blocks the defrost vents. So on the occasion it rains and you flip the defrost on, it is blocked by the dash cover. This is our own fault, but it shows you that most of these fancy overland goods are geared toward good weather travel.  

We will hone our setup a bit, and in the mean time I suppose there is something to be said for a camper instead of a canopy/roof top tent. Hmm.

Tangent over. One more stop before leaving Lusaka was to get coffee filters, which we’d forgotten on the last grocery run. We made an effort to go to Melisa’s, a sort of fancy grocer, but the one off the Great East Road was not quite on par with the one in Kabulonga, with no coffee filters. However Jenny did get a huge and very welcome bunch of basil which was a nice treat. 

After all that the hour was getting late, and our plan to miss traffic was only moderately successful. We made slow progress and arrived at our first stop, Fringilla Farm. We’d had a great visit last time, and we wanted to stock up on essentials (like biltong chili bites and rusks) that would be harder to find further north. 

We chatted with Andrew, the boss we’d met when we’d stayed here last time. He joined us for dinner at the restaurant (cooking in the threatening rain didn’t seem appealing) and generously bought us a couple rounds of beer while telling us of one of his trips flying his small Cessna airplane down to the Lower Zambezi. We also got to meet his teenage niece, who grew up in the bush in the Lower Zambezi and had some good stories of her own. Dinner was one of Fringilla’s famous meat pies, chips and salad for $6 USD, a great deal.

The small cafe opens at 0600, and we went fairly early to get a coffee to go. Andrew and his family were also having coffee, and a huge fry up of onions and wors and more was underway; we were informed this was a Saturday tradition. They asked us to stay for a few more nights, to go to the club for the rugby match that night and try another local tradition, tequila shooters with a soy chaser. As Andrew’s son told his father, “If you want them to leave, then no wonder you offered the tequila and soya.” It sounds awful, but it was a really nice offer. However, we were concerned about the rains and knew that even a few days might make the difference of our getting somewhere, or not getting out of somewhere, so we made our good byes and departed.

On the way north we stopped at the very convenient and well stocked Shoprite in Kabwe, just north of the city center. Coffee filters finally obtained, we also stocked up on protein. Frozen chicken, bacon, even a huge beef fillet (beef tenderloin in the US) for only $7, which would probably cost a fortune back home. What we think of as normal ‘grocery stores’ become few and far between north of Kapiri Mposhi, with the one more that we know of in Kasama, which we may not get to. Food is about to get a lot more local for us. 

It’s a long drive of uninspiring motorway up to Kundalila. Due to heavy truck traffic, the road is particularly bad between Kabwe and the transport hub of Kapiri Mposhi. Officially the speed limit is 100 kph, but I doubt many ever achieve this. Much more normal is to be stuck behind a truck that is doing 60 kph, if you’re lucky. It’s a narrow road, one lane in either direction. If you get a window to overtake and think, “Finally, I made it past that truck!” your victory will be short lived because just ahead is another truck, and the cycle repeats. 

This tedious driving is compounded by the roads. Whether by inferior construction or overloaded trucks or both, the tarmac frequently has ruts in it, compressed by trucks and heavy breaking on the asphalt that is so hot in the dry season that it becomes pliable. This is all punctuated by pot holes here and there. The rutted tarmac is very dangerous because the spacing is caused by the wheels of a heavy truck, not a small vehicle, and if you attempt to overtake, you could easily catch a wheel on the edge, lose control and roll the car. Sometimes trucks and busses will undertake dangerous maneuvers into your lane to avoid a pothole, careening towards you flashing their lights, meaning “coming through!” We move to the shoulder, if there is one, to avoid disaster.

The roadside is dotted with overturned trucks, smashed cabs and shattered containers, all this having gone wrong many times before. With the rain pounding down intermittently, it made for grim travel.

Heavy rain came on and off, and we wondered more about our plans. Eventually we made the turn to Kundalila, and after bumping down a sort of good but rocky dirt road, we arrived at a parking lot/camp site. This would be the beginning of what we imagine is quite a bit more modest camping. Totally fine mind you, but we’ve been spoiled with the refined campsites further south, and this will, I think, foreshadow more of what is to come. 

Serviceable and minimally cleaned toilets, and camping is just a place to park and make a fire on the ground if you want to. The price on the sign is $15 pp to visit the falls, but it is unclear how much camping is. Our guide book says it’s another $15 pppn for camping, making it $60 total for us to visit and camp at the falls. This feels pretty steep, we think, but then we have read many reports online of all kinds of different prices, so who knows how it’ll work out. 

We are the only ones here. It’s slightly warm and pleasant, the rain holding off, so we went to check out the falls. A couple minutes walk from camp to the viewpoint at the top of the falls that is nice enough, but it doesn’t let you get the full scope of the falls. Even though it has only rained a little after months of dry season, we’re happy to find that there is water flowing, unlike Chongwe Falls in the Lower Zambezi, which was totally dry a couple weeks ago. 

The elevation is high here, roughly 1,600 m, and this river and many others drain the highlands of NW Zambia and the Congo, so water is plentiful. We’re hoping to find the other waterfalls also running, if not in their full wet season glory.

It’s about a 15 or 20 minute hike to the bottom on a small unmarked path (take the right fork), steep and narrow in places. It’s the first hiking we’ve done in weeks, having been mostly confined to the vehicle in the National Parks due to animal risk. It feels great to get the pulse elevated a bit. At the bottom we’re presented with a full view of the falls and two pools that make for good swimming holes. It takes a little rock scrambling to get to the upper pool. Swimming in the cool waters of the pool, tall waterfall overhead in our own little private gorge is wonderful; it felt very Robinson Crusoe or something, the rest of the world fading away. 

Freshwater swimming holes are plentiful in much of Africa, but once you ensure the water is crocodile and hippo free and also bilharzia free, then the list gets shorter. A local in Lusaka warned us of bilharzia risk here, but another source said it’s safe so we’ve decided to go for it. Worst case, bilharzia is easily treatable, but it takes weeks for symptoms to appear, so we won’t really know for a while. 

*Apologies to our ever suffering parents, describing all these hazards of Africa. I assure you I describe them only to show that we understand and mitigate the dangers.

Feeling refreshed and invigorated by our swim and short hike, we embrace camping out all alone for the first time in a while. The air is cool in the evening, so we have a fire, and at this elevation we are blessedly mosquito free and generally light on insects. Dinner is chicken coconut curry with tomato and basil salad, delicious. 

Right at dusk a bus of locals showed up. They were from Lusaka, driving up today to partake in a long distance running race the following day, and they wanted to see the falls. We showed them the way to the falls, and in the fading light they got a glimpse from the top. Before they left, we had a nice chat with them.

At night we hear the tip tapping of rain on the tent, but we are dry and warm inside and sleeping well to the chorus of the forest around us. 

Mutinondo Wilderness

In the morning we expected someone to come by and collect our entrance fee, but nobody ever showed up. This was a little odd, since reportedly Kundalilia is one of the more visited falls, being popular with locals from Lusaka, Kipiri and Kabwe. And we could tell that someone had been around, with the grounds recently swept. 

Nobody came though, and our possibly expensive campsite became a free site. In the past we’ve tacked some money to the door of other unattended campsites. In this case I wasn’t confident that, without a receipt, the money wouldn’t just get pocketed, so we accepted our luck and got underway. 

Ablution Report: 2/5. There were toilets here, with seats even. The rooms themselves weren’t filthy, but certainly only minimally cleaned. In what was to be a trend, the toilets didn’t flush, and we had to fetch water from the river to flush them manually. There was a tank to provide running water to the camp and toilets, but it was empty. There was some irony that at every Zambian waterfall we were to visit there was plentiful water, a water tank, but no running water. No showers, but bathing in the falls was wonderful. 

The drive to Mutinondo is an easy 146 km. This part of the Great North Road is not particularly good, but truck traffic was modest, and we made the drive in good time.

Some 20 km down a dirt road we found ourselves arriving at Mutinondo Wilderness. Mutinondo is a private wilderness reserve perched on the rim of the Muchinga escarpment, with the Luangwa Valley below. They have camping and chalets, a restaurant and honesty bar. The attractions here are just being out in unspoiled miombo woodland, hiking, swimming in the river and birding for dedicated birders.

There are, I think, seven campsites in dappled shade on a gentle slope. Some are flatter than others, so not all are appropriate for roof top tents, and even ground tents would be on a pretty sloped pitch at one of the sites. There is one campsite that costs $5 more, the Nsaka, which has a huge shelter, washing up area, even a refrigerator, fire ring, braai stand and picnic table along with a view. This campsite is a no-brainer for anyone traveling in a group, but for us it just seemed a little bit of overkill.

The rest of the sites still have a shelter for each site, braai stand, picnic table and fire wood provided. Ablutions are clean, odorless, long-drop toilets (some look down on the long drop, but hey, they always flush correctly) and really nice showers. Hot water is solar at one shower block and from a donkey at the other. There is a nice dishwashing station and separate sink with mirrors for hand washing and tooth brushing or whatever. All very nice, set in the trees and spaced apart.

The campsite is 500m from reception, the bar and restaurant. As is common, pre-booked meals only. We didn’t eat at the restaurant, but we heard it is very good. 

Eager to stretch our legs a bit, we decided to do an afternoon hike. Even though it was the heat of the day, at this altitude it was not too hot. Under pleasantly cloudy skies and a gentle breeze we set out. At the reccomendation of Kennedy, one of the staff, we decided to tackle Mayense, one of the impressive inselbergs that dot the escarpment and Mutinondo in particular.

Mutinondo provides a photocopied map for hikers, including details of the “Ten Peak Challenge,” an ambitious route to the peak of the ten largest inselbergs that surround the camp, some 40 km (?) or so of hiking. 

We set our sights somewhat lower for today, just a single peak, albeit the highest. It’s a pleasant and mostly flat walk through the forest to get to Mayense. Upon beginning the ascent it becomes very steep. Being granite monoliths, reminding us of the domed walls of the Sierra Mountains back home, they provide excellent traction. This made the trail builders sparing in the use of switchbacks, and huffing and puffing, we made our way to the summit.

Side note – props to Mutinondo for the best signage we have seen in Africa . Typically signage is in very short supply, even major national parks frequently having no signs at all, or perhaps a sign so UV faded that it is illegible. Here in Mutinondo the signage for trails and campsites was excellent, which is great as it would be very easy to get lost in the maze of trails. 

The trails up the granite insgelsbergs were marked with dots of red paint, and we were guided to the summit. The view down the valley was spectacular, if a little bit hazy. Resting at the top, we pondered the map and decided to take the remainder of the ten peak challenge trail back, just a little bit longer than returning the way we came.

This peak we had started with was the highest, so we theorized the hardest work was done already. What were a few more peaks on the way back to camp? 

Well, pretty hard it turns out. We strained our way over three more peaks. Calves burning on the way up, thighs on the way down, toes pinched in our shoes and ankles working hard from climbing the steep angles of the paths up and down. But the views were stunning, and it felt so good to get some proper exercise. Four peaks climbed. In three and a bit hours, we made it back to camp totally tired out and happy.

After a sundowner at the honesty bar, we showered and cooked over the fire in camp. Note about the braai stands here. They are under the thatched shelter. After one builds up a fire big enough to get some proper coals, the whole of the pitched roof area fills with smoke, which then spills out under the eves. I did not find it very pleasant cooking or eating like this, though Jenny was mostly unaffected. It did keep the bugs down to a minimum. 

We woke the next morning feeling pleasantly sore. In camp we met a German couple traveling in their 80 series cruiser, which has the same 1HZ engine. We chatted about all kinds of travel details, where we’d been and swapped notes on trips for future destinations. Omar turned out to be fairly mechanical, and we had a good chat about engines as well, eventually discovering that, improbably, Omar worked the seasonal Bristol Bay salmon fishery in Alaska and had been to my home town, among other things a fishing town, numerous times. I have friends that have also worked this fishery, and we marveled at how small this world is and had a nice time chatting about boats in addition to African travel. 

Later that day we decided to tackle another hike, but this time would stick to one peak only. At the recommendation of other travelers we went for “the Caterpillar,” a distant peak that would be more kilometers but hopefully mostly flatish woodland trails. 

The Caterpillar turned out to be really scenic and well named for it’s long undulating ridge that you hike along. We had stunning vistas pretty much the whole time on the peak trail, gazing down on the red and green Miombo forest. 

We took the long way back, via the paradise pools swimming hole and had a refreshing swim in the pools. It was really nice. After over 10 miles of hiking, we were again pretty tuckered out and took the rest of the day off to relax about camp.  

To Bangwelu Wetlands

Before heading to Bangwelu we have chores to take care of in the regional center of Mpika. We need fuel and also to renew our visas. It’s hard to believe, but in a few days we will have been here for a month. We have 90 day visas, but oddly, when entering the country, they will only give you 30 days, saying you can easily extend two more times, though other travelers debate the ‘easily’ statement. We shall see. 

With sore legs from hiking and feeling good, having been able to be out of the car for a bit, we departed Mutinondo, arriving at Mpika after a couple hours. Coming into town we cleared a police checkpoint with little more than a wave through, but a few kilometers later there is a military checkpoint, presumably guarding the nearby airport. The guy on duty asks where we are from, where we are going and then, “What have you brought for me from US?” asking for a small gift. This has happened to us before, and interestingly, last time it was also the military, not the police. We politely decline, and he accepts defeat, waving us through.

Mpika has long been the regional administrative hub of the region. Read Mark and Delia Owens’ accounts of working in North Luangwa National Park, The Eye of the Elephant and the Secrets of the Savannah. They make frequent references to trips to Mpika. I found the Secrets of the Savannah to be better, Delia’s writing being particularly good. No wonder she is now a best-selling novelist, author of the hit Where the Crawdads Sing. I wonder how many of her fans know of her work in Africa?

Town seems a bit subdued, but also there are many district offices for various government departments, all in one part of town. We had to ask around a bit, but after making our way to one such government building, we are directed to an unmarked door. Inside, a tiny office holds three desks and an immigration officer. 

We ask to renew our visas, and he is unfazed, thumbing through a stack of ledgers to find the right one. After he enters our details in the logbook, he stamps our passports for another 30 days. In 10 minutes we’ve renewed our visas and are good to go.

Partway through this one of the other civil servants asks Jenny, “How many stars are on your American Flag?” Jenny responds that there are 50 and begins to explain why. We hear his phone give a little victorious jingle. He smiles and shows us the screen. He is playing trivia, and needed the answer (not the explanation) to bolster his score.

Other tasks were – get a little bit more cash (a few ATMs are hidden around town), refuel and buy beer. We are regretfully no longer in the land of canned beer, which is easier to store. We have to buy bottles, pay the deposit on the bottles (2 kw/ea) and buy one of the plastic cases to hold them, 35kw. 

Onto Bangweulu. Bangweulu Wetlands is a national park under the administration of African Parks, the previously mentioned NGO. A different strategy has been adopted at this park. The locals that have always lived off of fishing in these wetlands are not relocated. This is a more progressive approach to conservation, as opposed to drawing a line in the proverbial sand and pretending to call that unspoiled wilderness, as if Africans had not always lived together with wild animals.

This is a particularly complex subject and touches a nerve with many, but here context and details really matter. Consider reading White Man’s Game or The Myth of Wild Africa if you’d like to learn more. The latter book relies heavily on hindsight, which I found occasionally off putting, but the concepts are fascinating. This approach here means that somewhere around 90,000 people live within Bangweulu, living primarily off of regulated fishing and some small plot farming.

The primary attractions at Bangweulu are enormous herds of black lechwe, found only here, and the shoebill stork, a rare and charismatic bird. There is also ample bird life, some other wildlife and, I think, fishing if that is your thing.

Driving into Bangweulu we had some uncertainty, having one 5 year old map saying the southern approach road, the D41, is faster, whereas our newer map says the D733 is better. Coming from Mpika we’re closer to the D733, so we hope that the new map is correct. The old one says this road alone will take eight hours, which if true means we’ll be wild camping somewhere. 

The D733 turns out to be graded and in decent condition, though deteriorated in a few spots. We can see evidence of rain and old mud bogs in the road, filled with sticks to presumably rescue stranded trucks. A sign of what is to come deeper in the rainy season, hopefully not to us. 

This road passes through Lavushi Manda National Park, a less visited park, but those in transit are not charged park fees. Further along, well into the park, we arrive at the Bangweulu gate. The guard asks us where we’re going, and says that he is out of receipt books and that we should pay our entrance and camping fees at Chikuni, the headquarters by the airstrip deep in the park. 

On we went, and from here began more or less endless village life along the road. These all-season settlements are dotted with small-plot farms, mud huts with thatched roofs and wonderful trees. Really it’s the most attractive village life we’ve seen in our Zambian travels. Everything is very tidy, and I am repeatedly impressed by the numerous trees, mostly huge mango trees full of fruit, providing luxurious shade for the residents. Apologies for not having photos of this, but I’ve found that, for the most part, locals do not like photos taken unless you have time to stop and really chat for a bit first.

Everyone is incredibly friendly, and we are mostly met with smiles, packs of children running out from the shade of trees to wave vigorously and stare and practice their favorite english phrase, “howareyou, howareyou!?” Not wanting to be aloof, we wave back. After what seemed like hours of waving, I’m totally over it, feeling some empathy for the queen, who has spent a lifetime waving at people she doesn’t know. 

There is clear evidence of rain here, with large puddles in the road, every 50m in some places. Villagers wisely never stand adjacent to these puddles, knowing that a vehicle driving through them will splash them. We drive slowly to minimize spraying water everywhere, but with the puddles and the waving and the slow progress, we were anxious to get to camp.

In the kilometers before camp, we see the wetlands closing in closer to the road, and village life diminishes. There is simply no room for huts in this area that appears to flood in the rainy season. The road becomes a sort of built up causeway with deep ditches on either side. This part of the road was worked on recently, so the road bed isn’t well compacted. Even though the sky is clear, the road is soft from the recent rain, and a few times we felt the back end of the cruiser start to slide a little. 

We were in 4×4, and she pulled ahead easily, but it was a little alarming to think of driving this narrow causeway after more rain. If we were starting to slide now, what about after more rain? The road is very narrow here, not wide enough for two vehicles to pass, and if the vehicle started to slide, it wouldn’t take much before you found yourself catastrophically slipping into the deep drainage ditches beside the causeway. 

This made me a little uncomfortable, but we were committed now and would just take it one day at a time. If we had to wait a day or two for the roads to dry out after rain, we had the time to do so.

Finally we see a small sign for Nsobe Camp, the community campsite about seven kilometers shy of Chikuni and the airstrip. There are a few huts where the camp staff and community guides live. We’re the only ones here and are directed to the best campsite. 

Nsobe Camp is on the edge of the wetlands, each site at a small tree island. To get to camp you burst out of the tree line onto our first views of dramatic wide open vistas. It’s really something. Jenny was somewhat skeptical, coming all this way to a park to see a particular bird, but the camp site setting is stunning, just a spot to camp in the bush and a fire ring in the shade of the trees, nothing else. 

There is a simple reed-enclosed, shared shower and toilet, centrally located. I say “enclosed” generously because the side facing the road is in fact totally open, but since there is no one here right now, it doesn’t matter. Still though, perhaps a minor flaw in the ablutions department. There is also a long drop (well, in this case maybe a short drop, as it is not deep enough) next to each campsite, though totally exposed, just a toilet set over a hole in the ground. 

In halting English two camp attendants check in with us, discussing when they can provide hot water showers for us. We never really expect this, but we’ve found that the South Africans, that make up many of the visitors, do. Thus many camps are ready to provide this. Also we make plans to go shoebill-stork tracking the following day. It’s not always a sure thing to find the shoebill, but the guides are confident. They assure us it’s okay to pay for the camping, park fee and bird tracking the next day at headquarters. 

That night they lit a fire for us, and also reminded us that at the end of our stay we could tip them, in addition to paying the camping fee. This followed a bit of what we’d read on iOverlander, that staff here were assertive about requesting a tip. This is unusual in Africa, but we had no issue. 

In fact we are more generous tipping than most I think. Part of this is because Americans are used to tipping more; that is the standard at home. Also we have been really feeling for everyone we meet in the tourism industry. Covid has hit all these camps and guides and staff very hard, with a lot of camps closing down and people losing their jobs. At Nsobe we are the 49th vehicle to visit for the entire year, for example. At another camp where we stayed, the only alternative to layoffs management had was to take the drastic measure of cutting everyone’s wages to 500 kw/month, roughly $30 USD, plus room and board.

This means that the tips that staff receive are critical. So while some on iOverlander and elsewhere may complain about prices and haggle with camps, we are incredibly grateful that they have weathered the Covid storm so far and are here at all, and we pay willingly. 

The late afternoon and sunset are beautiful, and far out in this wilderness camp it was really nice. We watched huge numbers of swallows darting back and forth high in the sky. I tried to photograph them, but their aerial acrobatics made it impossible.

We made pasta as night fell, and started to notice that insect life was substantial, probably why the swallows were so prolific. 

We put out our little electric lantern away from camp as a decoy light, to attract insects, and were rapidly alarmed at how effective it was. It was being fully swarmed, primarily by thick clouds of termites, and we started to wonder who the heck was going to turn it off at night? Someone would have to brave the hordes (Jenny).

The termites and moths were coming fast now. Pete had left me with this sun protection shirt, a loose-fitting, long-sleeved shirt with a hood, made from the same material as a surfer’s rash guard. This garment keeps you out of the sun and still breathes, and if wetted down provides wonderful “air conditioning.” I donned it now, and hood up, was mostly protected from the termite onslaught. Thank you, Pete! This thing was a lifesaver.

Wondering how we were going to eat dinner with all our insect friends, we thought we’d sit by the fire, that the smoke might keep them away. But the fire had attracted a large number of what we refer to as “spider crickets” a wiry sort of cricket thing.

Instead we sat in the dark, using the red light on our headlamps, and ate our pasta while termites ricocheted off our bodies. I’m confident I ate a few termites that night, but they blended with the pasta well and were unnoticeable at least.

Frustration reached its zenith, and we headed for the tent as fast as we could pack up. I was excited about heading into the Bangweulu swamps tomorrow. It was going to be a fun day. 

Bangweulu turned out to have quite a few surprises in store for us over the next two days. This included an unexpected wildlife sighting, my maritime prowess conspicuously failing me while canoeing and another opportunity to use our Max-Trax. 

The Nitty Gritty

Nov 19th – Pioneer Camp to Fringilla Farm, 88 km. We made several stops in town, so our travel time of 3h 10m could easily be bested. I’ve already written about Fringilla before, so suffice to say it is well worth a stop to buy some goods or have a meal, if not a place to stay.

Nov 20th – Fringilla Farm to Kundalila Falls, 428 km, 8h 16m travel time with stops. Kundalila Falls is a nice waterfall with good swimming, if you can manage modest rock scramble at the base of the falls. The campsite is modest, but mid week you’re likely to have it to yourself. I believe the actual price is $15 USD pp for foreigners, whether you camp or not, plus a $5 vehicle fee. It is not supposed to be $15 for access and another $15 to camp. This was confirmed later at Lumangwe Falls. 

Nov 21st – Kundalila to Mutinondo Wilderness, 143 km, 3h 13m. Mutinondo really needs a minimum of two nights, so that you have a full day to hike. Dedicated hikers I’m sure could spend more time, but two was good for us. Campsite is $20 pppn, firewood provided. There was a dramatic painting in reception done by Quentin Allen, waterfall book co-author, who is a frequent Mutinondo visitor. It was nice to see this painting and have met the artist. He also has a gallery in Lusaka. 

Nov 23rd – Mutinondo – Mpika, 99km, 2h. The immigration office is shown on iOverlander, but the route to get there is circuitous. Position is S11° 50.575′ E31° 27.392’, see attached screen shot. Mpika has the basics, but no fancy supermarket. Be prepared to shop around a bit if you need provisions. We did obtain some fresh vegetables, eggs, mobile airtime, beer, fuel and cash here. 

Mpika to Nsobe Camp, Bangweulu, 176 km, 7h 9m, being particular slow going for the last stretch from the gate to camp. Numerous people complain on iOverlander about Nsobe camp, particularly the pricing and camp staff not knowing the prices for things. That is because that isn’t their responsibility. You can get pricing either at the gate or the Chikuni office, and also I have posted them here. My personal opinion is that officially posted prices should not be negotiated for, if you try to bargain down the posted price you are abusing your position and putting the poor camp staff in a tight spot.