12 AUGUST 2010 - Lilongwe Up - MR
Crossing in to Malawi, progress slowed as speed limits were legally capped at 80km/hr. Add to that the increased density of people and suicidal dogs/goats/chickens and progress was restricted to 60km/hr as we pushed to hit the Malawian capital of Lilongwe by sunset.
The obligatory first stop of any new country is an ATM. With the 500 Kwatcha note being the highest denomination (US$3) our wallets were bulging as we entered the second obligatory stop - somewhere to eat. In an attempt to satisfy my perpetual travel craving for hommus, we visited Ali Baba Kebabs for a true taste of Malawi. Or was that Lebanon?
When we finally arrived at our hostel for the night, so had a truckload of backpackers who had chosen an 80s theme party for the night. A strange choice given most were not alive during the 80s. We old timers felt our age as we reminisced about better times when people respected their elders and had to trudge across minefields in the snow to collect firewood to keep their family warm.
The discovery of Peri Peri sauce in Malawi warmed our souls, amongst other things. The early Portuguese settlers discovered a chilli in Malawi, out of which God’s gift to the culinary world was spawned.
Heading to the shoreline of Malawi’s largest geographic feature, we found ourselves lakeside in Nkhata Bay. The lake is so large that the other side (being Mozambique in the south and Tanzania in the north) could not be seen. Sand is also prevalent as is the occasional wave, adding to the lakeside’s deception of being an ocean. So much so that on first seeing the water level so high on the beach, I commented that it must be high tide. I like to think such daftness is endearing.
Crossing in to Malawi, progress slowed as speed limits were legally capped at 80km/hr. Add to that the increased density of people and suicidal dogs/goats/chickens and progress was restricted to 60km/hr as we pushed to hit the Malawian capital of Lilongwe by sunset.
The obligatory first stop of any new country is an ATM. With the 500 Kwatcha note being the highest denomination (US$3) our wallets were bulging as we entered the second obligatory stop - somewhere to eat. In an attempt to satisfy my perpetual travel craving for hommus, we visited Ali Baba Kebabs for a true taste of Malawi. Or was that Lebanon?
When we finally arrived at our hostel for the night, so had a truckload of backpackers who had chosen an 80s theme party for the night. A strange choice given most were not alive during the 80s. We old timers felt our age as we reminisced about better times when people respected their elders and had to trudge across minefields in the snow to collect firewood to keep their family warm.
The discovery of Peri Peri sauce in Malawi warmed our souls, amongst other things. The early Portuguese settlers discovered a chilli in Malawi, out of which God’s gift to the culinary world was spawned.
Heading to the shoreline of Malawi’s largest geographic feature, we found ourselves lakeside in Nkhata Bay. The lake is so large that the other side (being Mozambique in the south and Tanzania in the north) could not be seen. Sand is also prevalent as is the occasional wave, adding to the lakeside’s deception of being an ocean. So much so that on first seeing the water level so high on the beach, I commented that it must be high tide. I like to think such daftness is endearing.
MALAWI DIARIES
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16 AUGUST 2010 - Lost in Nyika National Park - cold, hungry, thirsty, at 2300 metres with 90 minutes to sundown - our strangest day yet
Leaving Nkhata Bay at last, we headed into rural Malawi, bound for the country’s biggest national park.
Nyika National Park is unique. Rolling grasslands, pockets of evergreen forests in the gullies, pine forests, and wildlife that is best found on foot, by mountain bike or on horseback. As we drove slowly up into the highlands, mist rolled in and shrouded the hilltops - it’s how I imagine the Scottish highlands.
Toy is an Australian Landcruiser, which means that even if we’d taken it to the highest point in Australia before coming to Africa, driving to Nyika took it more than 600m higher than it had ever been before - to 2350 metres. Up here, at night, you need a big campfire.
When dawn broke on our campsite, the thick frost blanketing the hills glowed silver before gradually melting back into the greens and yellows of the grass and purple-grey of the bracken. Nyika became less Scottish highlands and more American prairie. Can you tell I loved this park?
Little did we know that this day was going to be the most bizarre/memorable day of the trip to date (in my opinion at least).
Mountain biking is great in theory. We hired bikes from Chelinda Camp and had a great morning riding through the rolling highlands, past dams and alpine lakes, spooking enormous roan antelope and eland - we saw one of them bound 8-9 metres in one leap. We had lunch on a granite outcrop looking over an alpine valley in beaming sunshine. What could possibly be (go) wrong?
We got lost. Or more generously: we took the wrong trail. Fast forward to 4pm. We have already ridden 35 kilometres at 2300 metres altitude. Neither of us are bike fit - our legs had completely disintegrated - we were walking the bikes up the endless inclines and gingerly seating ourselves for the brief flats and rare downhills. Shadows are lengthening, we know there is about an hour and a half til dark; it will quickly fall below zero. We have jackets with us, but are wearing shorts. We have eaten all the food and drunk all the water. And the road we are on should have led 8km back to our campsite, but we have already ridden/walked 15km along it. This is Malawi’s largest and least visited National Park, we are somewhere north of camp, but we told the people at Chelinda Camp that we were heading south: no-one will look for us here. According to the map, we could only be on a loop track that runs from somewhere west of the camp in a bulge out to the northwest - a 30km loop. Oh the pain of that day.
We are proud to say that things did work out. We limped into camp just before sunset, sat in the showers til we drained the hot water boiler, and wandered down from the campsite to the swish Chelinda Camp to sit in front of their fire for a while.
It had been bustling the night before, but we were the only guests that night. So when we got chatting to Georgina and Dennis, the Aussies who are managing the accommodation options - the beautiful campsite, the very nice chalets at Chelinda Camp, and the luxurious Chelinda Lodge - they were free to fraternise. And fraternise we did, sitting for roast chicken, good wine, and jokes at the expense of New Zealand. It was the best, most homely, warm and comfortable ending to the most exhausting, thirsty, cold and uncomfortable (but bizarrely glorious) day we’ve had.
Dennis and Georgina easily persuaded us to stay another day. The deal we struck: I would teach Dennis to ride the dirt bike that had been sitting unused in the Camp’s shed, and in return he’d teach me how to cut down a pine tree with a chain-saw.
In actual fact - we are in Malawi after all - laziness struck and our maxtreme plans evaporated: we spent the next day sitting around, drinking tea with the park’s game warden, resting, eating, playing Trivial Pursuit. It was awesome. Thanks Dennis and Georgina!
SC
Leaving Nkhata Bay at last, we headed into rural Malawi, bound for the country’s biggest national park.
Nyika National Park is unique. Rolling grasslands, pockets of evergreen forests in the gullies, pine forests, and wildlife that is best found on foot, by mountain bike or on horseback. As we drove slowly up into the highlands, mist rolled in and shrouded the hilltops - it’s how I imagine the Scottish highlands.
Toy is an Australian Landcruiser, which means that even if we’d taken it to the highest point in Australia before coming to Africa, driving to Nyika took it more than 600m higher than it had ever been before - to 2350 metres. Up here, at night, you need a big campfire.
When dawn broke on our campsite, the thick frost blanketing the hills glowed silver before gradually melting back into the greens and yellows of the grass and purple-grey of the bracken. Nyika became less Scottish highlands and more American prairie. Can you tell I loved this park?
Little did we know that this day was going to be the most bizarre/memorable day of the trip to date (in my opinion at least).
Mountain biking is great in theory. We hired bikes from Chelinda Camp and had a great morning riding through the rolling highlands, past dams and alpine lakes, spooking enormous roan antelope and eland - we saw one of them bound 8-9 metres in one leap. We had lunch on a granite outcrop looking over an alpine valley in beaming sunshine. What could possibly be (go) wrong?
We got lost. Or more generously: we took the wrong trail. Fast forward to 4pm. We have already ridden 35 kilometres at 2300 metres altitude. Neither of us are bike fit - our legs had completely disintegrated - we were walking the bikes up the endless inclines and gingerly seating ourselves for the brief flats and rare downhills. Shadows are lengthening, we know there is about an hour and a half til dark; it will quickly fall below zero. We have jackets with us, but are wearing shorts. We have eaten all the food and drunk all the water. And the road we are on should have led 8km back to our campsite, but we have already ridden/walked 15km along it. This is Malawi’s largest and least visited National Park, we are somewhere north of camp, but we told the people at Chelinda Camp that we were heading south: no-one will look for us here. According to the map, we could only be on a loop track that runs from somewhere west of the camp in a bulge out to the northwest - a 30km loop. Oh the pain of that day.
We are proud to say that things did work out. We limped into camp just before sunset, sat in the showers til we drained the hot water boiler, and wandered down from the campsite to the swish Chelinda Camp to sit in front of their fire for a while.
It had been bustling the night before, but we were the only guests that night. So when we got chatting to Georgina and Dennis, the Aussies who are managing the accommodation options - the beautiful campsite, the very nice chalets at Chelinda Camp, and the luxurious Chelinda Lodge - they were free to fraternise. And fraternise we did, sitting for roast chicken, good wine, and jokes at the expense of New Zealand. It was the best, most homely, warm and comfortable ending to the most exhausting, thirsty, cold and uncomfortable (but bizarrely glorious) day we’ve had.
Dennis and Georgina easily persuaded us to stay another day. The deal we struck: I would teach Dennis to ride the dirt bike that had been sitting unused in the Camp’s shed, and in return he’d teach me how to cut down a pine tree with a chain-saw.
In actual fact - we are in Malawi after all - laziness struck and our maxtreme plans evaporated: we spent the next day sitting around, drinking tea with the park’s game warden, resting, eating, playing Trivial Pursuit. It was awesome. Thanks Dennis and Georgina!
SC
18 AUGUST 2010 - The Mushroom Farm
The road up to the old mission town of Livingstonia wound through a newly tropical Africa: terraced hills, palm and banana trees, red dirt, lush green, and people that leap from the road on your approach as if a vehicle can kill from 30 metres away.
Malawi has continued to deliver the warmth and hospitality it is famous for. From police at the road blocks, kids roadside, men riding their bikes, and women balancing water jugs on their heads, everyone waves, everyone breaks into smiles, everyone welcomes. Just don’t trust their directions.
I’m almost ashamed to admit that we never went into Livingstonia itself. But only almost - we did go to the waterfalls (and got pummelled by the water when standing under it), a cave behind the falls, and we seriously considered rock climbing. I think that’s a pretty good effort.
Truth be told, it was difficult to leave the Mushroom Farm, where we were staying. It’s perched on an escarpment, hundreds of metres above Lake Malawi, with views northeastish across the Lake to the shores of Tanzania. Run by yet another Aussie - the ultra chilled Melbournian, Mick - and co-populated by 4 cool Frenchies, it is/was/will be a memorable spot.
When we did leave, we promptly found a road sign which read: “Road Signs Save Lives”. Ahh Malawi.
SC
The road up to the old mission town of Livingstonia wound through a newly tropical Africa: terraced hills, palm and banana trees, red dirt, lush green, and people that leap from the road on your approach as if a vehicle can kill from 30 metres away.
Malawi has continued to deliver the warmth and hospitality it is famous for. From police at the road blocks, kids roadside, men riding their bikes, and women balancing water jugs on their heads, everyone waves, everyone breaks into smiles, everyone welcomes. Just don’t trust their directions.
I’m almost ashamed to admit that we never went into Livingstonia itself. But only almost - we did go to the waterfalls (and got pummelled by the water when standing under it), a cave behind the falls, and we seriously considered rock climbing. I think that’s a pretty good effort.
Truth be told, it was difficult to leave the Mushroom Farm, where we were staying. It’s perched on an escarpment, hundreds of metres above Lake Malawi, with views northeastish across the Lake to the shores of Tanzania. Run by yet another Aussie - the ultra chilled Melbournian, Mick - and co-populated by 4 cool Frenchies, it is/was/will be a memorable spot.
When we did leave, we promptly found a road sign which read: “Road Signs Save Lives”. Ahh Malawi.
SC
19 AUGUST 2010 - Life in Malawi v Life on the Road [2010] FEmo 7
We are back in Nkhata Bay, and will head back south to Lilongwe tomorrow. We are mentally preparing for a really un-fun day (or days), attempting to find a replacement Hi-lift Jack or equivalent (see the Zambia diary for the backstory).We’re not that keen to get sandy in Mozambique or brave the mud-risk of northern Mozambique and western Tanzania without a proper jack, or more specifically the ability to jack-and-pack or jack-and-push. But from our phone calls so far, no-one in Lilongwe seems to know what a Hi-lift jack is.
Our time chilling in Malawi is drawing to a close; we have loved it here. It’s time to hit the road again. I’ve prepared this handy comparison chart to mark the occasion...
We are back in Nkhata Bay, and will head back south to Lilongwe tomorrow. We are mentally preparing for a really un-fun day (or days), attempting to find a replacement Hi-lift Jack or equivalent (see the Zambia diary for the backstory).We’re not that keen to get sandy in Mozambique or brave the mud-risk of northern Mozambique and western Tanzania without a proper jack, or more specifically the ability to jack-and-pack or jack-and-push. But from our phone calls so far, no-one in Lilongwe seems to know what a Hi-lift jack is.
Our time chilling in Malawi is drawing to a close; we have loved it here. It’s time to hit the road again. I’ve prepared this handy comparison chart to mark the occasion...
| Life on the Road | Life in Malawi | |
| 8.30am | Get out of tent | Sleep |
| 9.00am | Eat muesli standing up, pack up the roof tent, do the washing up, pack everything back into the car, secure gear for departure and rough roads. | Sleep |
| 9.30am | Decide where we are going. Hit the road. | Get out of bed. |
| 10.00am | Drive. Avoid suicidal chicken | Order breakfast. |
| 11.00am | Drive. Avoid suicidal goat | Breakfast finally arrives. TIA. |
| 12.00pm | Drive. Narrowly avoid suicidal dog. | Drink another coffee. Otherwise do very little. |
| 1.00pm | Eat cheese and biscuits on the side of the road. Change driver. | Order lunch. |
| 2.00pm | Drive. Possibly see a suicidal pig. | Lunch finally arrives. TIA. |
| 3.30pm | Arrive somewhere. | Do very little. |
| 4pm | Commence setting up tent, chairs, etc. Collect firewood. Build fire. Do the little things that always need doing. Start preparing stuff for dinner. | Do very little. |
| 5pm | Find best available way to wash oneself. | Drink a beer. |
| 5.30pm | Start cooking dinner. Drink a beer. | Do very little. |
| 6.00pm | Sun goes down. Keep cooking. | Sun goes down. Do very little. |
| 6.30pm | Eat dinner. | Drink a beer and do very little. |
| 7.00pm | Clean up. | Order dinner. |
| 8.00pm | Pack stuff up. Enjoy 30 minutes of peaceful nothing. | Dinner finally arrives. TIA. |
| 9.00pm | Go to bed. | Talk to whoever is around. Drink a beer. |
| 12.00pm | Get up in midst of wildlife area to go to bathroom. | Go to bed. |
We do love life on the road, and are excited at the prospect of getting into Mozambique and Tanzania. African roads are not without their hazards though, and we wanted to pause to mention the overlanders we know of who have recently hit hard times - the French/German couple whose brakes failed, and rolled their truck off the escarpment at Livingstonia (fortunately trees arrested their fall, which saved them from plunging to their deaths) - our internet-friend Jonathon and his girlfriend who had a bad accident and wrote off their vehicle in Namibia - the motorcyclist who travelled with our Dutch friends for a while, and was tragically killed in a collision with a lorry in West Africa soon after they parted ways. I hope the honour roll gets no longer.
If you need to contact us in the next couple of weeks, you’ll find us somewhere in Northern Mozambique. Good luck with that!
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20 AUGUST 2010 - Our first (real) close call
Yesterday's entry seems almost prophetic in hindsight. Barreling along at about 90km today, a bright pink Hilux came round a corner about 150 metres along the road. Also doing about 90km, the gap closed very fast. This was not good, because he was on our side of the road, and seemed completely oblivious to that fact as he got closer and closer. There was a deep ditch on both sides of the road - I had nowhere to go, so I just about stood on the brakes and the horn. Brakes don't do that much in a heavy Cruiser with mud tyres, but fortunately the horn woke this guy up, and he swerved sharply back onto his side of the road. Lucky!
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If you need to contact us in the next couple of weeks, you’ll find us somewhere in Northern Mozambique. Good luck with that!
SC
20 AUGUST 2010 - Our first (real) close call
Yesterday's entry seems almost prophetic in hindsight. Barreling along at about 90km today, a bright pink Hilux came round a corner about 150 metres along the road. Also doing about 90km, the gap closed very fast. This was not good, because he was on our side of the road, and seemed completely oblivious to that fact as he got closer and closer. There was a deep ditch on both sides of the road - I had nowhere to go, so I just about stood on the brakes and the horn. Brakes don't do that much in a heavy Cruiser with mud tyres, but fortunately the horn woke this guy up, and he swerved sharply back onto his side of the road. Lucky!
SC