Tramping tales for August 2019

Thank goodness for Raymond and George-Anne, patiently waiting for us in the airport last night. Without our suitcase we needed new toothbrushes.  George hadn’t shaved in two weeks – a razor and some shaving gel was also required! Hungry and tired, we were glad to be taken back to their farm, given some soup whereupon we fell into bed.

After a late breakfast, the morning disappeared with plenty of chatting. During the afternoon Ray took George to see the macadamia orchards planted on the farm as an alternative crop to sugar cane.

 

 

Bike trails of differing degrees of difficulty have been developed with the consent of the farmers throughout the cane fields. Routes, from 17 - 30 km long, using the cane tracks that extended over so much of the region with bikers themselves having built small bridges over streams when they crop up. We were to encounter parties of bikers and see the colour-coded cycle tracks leading off the road to the farm, demonstrating the popularity of biking in the cane.

We had been warned about a formidable goose pair – the farm guardians prepared to attack visitors found wandering around the garden. Lea recalled her mother coming to collect her from a school friend in the year dot… when terrified pleas for help echoed within the house as geese chased her round and about outside!  Lea did not wish that to happen to her and warily kept an eye out for the Roger’s two. The geese often came to the kitchen door begging for bread and would appear at the dining room window too. As did the Woolly neck storks.

 

  

How intriguing are these birds?  Their habits have changed considerably in twenty years. Wetland birds; rarely seen, and yet on this trip to KwaZulu-Natal, they appear to have become urbanised.  A pair flew into Howick for afternoon tea with us at the Thornes. They regularly visit the Pattrick’s at Wedgewood Estate. Down in Scottburgh, Marijke and Hugh were fed up with a cat coming into their garden and harassing their nesting chats. They took a photo of the cat walking down the street, concerned it would bother a woolly neck stork that habitually strolled around their neighbourhood.  So many of the protected Estates seem to boast a pair or three.  Amazingly, Raymond told us their gardener had witnessed two woolly neck storks attack their cats down at the farm stables when they had stopped for water. More horrific, the storks succeeded in killing both.  Ray had related the story to an avid birdwatcher – and, he wasn’t at all surprised, saying cats wouldn’t stand a chance.  Those long stabbing beaks?

   

Late afternoon we received a call - our suitcase had arrived at the airport and awaited collection. Ray kindly took George to the airport after dinner when the evening traffic jams were over.  The following day we happily accompanied the Rogers to Ballito while they saw to a number of jobs and checked on the beach house.  We enjoyed morning tea there overlooking their beautiful beach front view.  Later, driving back to the farm we took the Salt Rock coastal route. A spur of the moment decision led us to having lunch there – Pensioners day, an added attraction! Many changes to our “honey-moon hotel” have taken place, opening up the old hotel to the garden and views of the sea along with additional rooms. This beautiful setting brought back many fond memories.  Not only had we come down from Zimbabwe to spend our honeymoon; we also came with our three children for the weekend of our tenth wedding anniversary; and again, George and Lea celebrated their Silver Anniversary weekend when, looking up from their late breakfast… surprise! Surprise! There, walking towards us, was our Best man John George and Lynne Osterberg. They caught a flight from Zimbabwe to join us… incredibly special people, those two.

George Anne and Lea mark a spot of memories …

That evening went late into the night listening to music – courtesy of our disc jockey Ray!  DVD’s of Andre Rieu; an Elvis reunion with some of the Jordanaires playing and finally a reunion of Cliff Richards and the Shadows.  Marvellous stuff that propelled us all back to our youth, toe tapping with the music.

 Saturday morning, middle daughter Moira, came for tea and scones with us.  Lea had taught Moira and Saxon for a term at Maidstone while their class teacher was on long leave.  Youngest daughter Kerry and Bruce joined us later and we gave their three little ladies the Kushirika animals we had bought in Mariri for them. We missed seeing ‘The Owl Lady’- eldest daughter Colleen on this visit.

 Our last night with Raymond and George-Anne spent at a Ballito steakhouse. 

     

We were on the move again. This time to the Cape.  Bernd Wortmann was waiting at the airport to collect us – with all sorts of things to show us at home, from his magnificent custom-made dining room table made from American cottonwood to the rainwater collection tanks installed in the garden. Despite being a beautiful afternoon, the evening chills of winter were soon upon us and we were happily drawn to the warmth of a fire burning in the lounge as Bernd prepared a meal of perfection.  Bernd had fueled his truck ready for our early departure to Prince Albert. We’d had this journey marked on the calendar from the day our African Adventure itinerary was set with the Travel Agent. Days before we departed Perth, George heard his eldest brother’s kidneys were packing up and so, we left for Africa with 'fear' hanging over us we may not be in time to see John, one last time.  Lea checked the e-mail at every opportunity. While with the Pattrick’s in Natal- Maureen mentioned a phone call from Judy Maguire and our hearts heaved… Maureen wasn’t to know this was George’s sister-in-law.  Still John hung in.  While in Mozambique, Saxon forwarded an email saying John had suffered a stroke and we must hurry to get there.  Using Bernd’s bakkie we headed for Prince Albert, 400km away, to see John. The early dawn rain and misty conditions were deemed unsafe and we delayed departure, hoping we’d avoid most of the peak traffic. It took us an hour to reach the N1 (via Stellenbosch) in drizzly weather only to be severely held up on the Hex River Pass as we came out of the tunnel by three trucks carrying wind turbine blades!

We arrived at Scholtzkloof, outside of Prince Albert to be confronted by the sight of a very sick brother.  Health wise, John has had the most dreadful, debilitating years but none more so than these last three traumatic years. At his side, every inch of the way has been his wife Judy – incredibly stoic and caring.  Despite everything, John’s sense of humour would shine through and his memory was surprisingly lucid. George was able to sit beside his brother talking over past memories - regardless of his sorrowfully weak physical condition, his mind still ticked over, ten to the dozen.  George helped Judy attend to needs.  Out in this remote yet beautiful bit of Karoo desert – we are glad Judy has her sister Enid, in the little cottage a stone’s throw away. A cottage of memories as George’s brother Peter lived there until he was killed in a nasty car accident. More recently Enid’s husband unexpectedly passed away there.  She teaches at the school in Prince Albert and joins her sister for dinner each night.  Lea enjoyed every minute spent with these two sisters.

   

Next day John slept the day away – we couldn’t help wonder if John had waited for his brother and would slip away peacefully.  While John slept George was able to take a nostalgic walk around the farm visiting meaningful places he’d shared with his two elder brothers, and came across the little cemetery he’d forgotten about.  It had great appeal and George regretted not bringing his parents ashes.

Later, sitting in the sun on the warm enclosed veranda with Judy, George mentioned the Scholtzkloof graveyard and heard John’s ashes would be laid there in due course. They agreed that placing George and Molly Begg’s ashes there was the best thing. Judy was also preparing to bring her parent’s ashes back there. A far safer environment and peaceful place for all to rest in.  George gave Judy some respite by going through his photos of Niassa / Mariri, using her computer in the dining room, close to John. It is always a rewarding experience to chat with Judy. A beautiful leg of mutton – the tastiest we have had in many years – went into the oven for dinner.  John and Judy’s eldest daughter Jess, husband Damainien and their little spritely daughter Julie came to dinner.  They'd recently moved into the little town of Prince Albert for Julie to attend pre-school.  Lea had yet to meet Damainien and Julie.  We all enjoyed time together and most surprisingly John was ready to have his helping of dinner. Sadly, it did not stay down long…

Our last day at Scholtzkloof – George was up early having promised to pick up the nurse who has just started to come to the farm, three days a week to help Judy. Before he departed, he helped Judy get John into a sitting position and while having his tea John gave his brother a long look and said, “you are proving quite useful.”  To which George replied “well, I have had lots of training”, and with that harsh reminder he left for Prince Albert knowing his last hours with his brother were fast running out.  So many reminders of heart-breaking similarities with his mother, his father, his daughter and now his brother coursed through mind.

The clock stops for no one and the pain of saying goodbye for the last time upon us. We left in sunshine and stopped in Laingsburg to stretch our legs and buy some springbok biltong. A cold front was loomed over the Hex river mountain range. Soon, we battled against gale force cross winds and rain. Time wasted in Worcester finding a garage to fill up with diesel, and as we entered the long Hugenot Tunnel to our dismay, the windscreen misted up. In the dark of the tunnel we hyperventilated trying to find a demister while Lea simultaneously tried to clear misty windows. We heard something   clank to the floor, yet Lea could feel nothing as she searched the floor around the driver’s feet.  Eventually, we were out of the tunnel and able to find a safe place to pull over.  Turned out Lea had knocked the “e-tag” flying.   We were one of the last to get through the tunnel in that hair-raising weather.  Ten minutes later the tunnel was closed! It took us five hours to reach Stellenbosch, where we stopped to buy strawberries from the famous Scarecrow Farm - the owner murdered a couple of years ago.  On arriving back- we found Bernd at home preparing a chicken casserole for dinner, very conscious of the emotional time his friend had been subjected to.  Beer promptly placed in his hand.

Next day, we popped down to the local Spar in Somerset West to gather ingredients for a cook-up. As soon as Lea was dropped at home, George set off for the Somerset Mall in search of a new camera exactly like Finn’s! The disappointment of the Pentax travelling round Australia and then Zimbabwe and Mozambique so upset George that we just cannot risk going to Madagascar to end up with poorly focused, badly exposed photos.  He found a Nikon and returned home, sat beside the fire and played with his new toy and read the instruction manual.  While Lea had made apple crumble for dinner.

Our delightful nephew Bion arrived from Cape Town early evening and we were introduced to Chloe. 

 It was a long weekend – Bion and Chloe were heading up the North East coast for the weekend with friends. While we caught up on all their news. his father, Bernd prepared the most delicious pork belly on a rotisserie. 

  Voila – presentation!

Woman’s Day - a public holiday in South Africa. Lea was excited as she had Phyll Elcombe-Cowie coming to lunch. She hadn’t seen Phyll since school days at Arundel.  With her, was Heather Ward (nee Nicholson) from our Kariba days. By quirk of fate – Phyll was the aunt of Heather’s dearly loved stepchildren. She came into Heather’s life when Heather married widower Dave Ward - who'd died of cancer at the same time as Justy. While the three ladies took over the lounge and spoke of everything under the sun and more – the men worked out in the garden or the workshop –  joined us for a very happy and lively lunch.

Phyll, Lea and Heather.

That night we thoroughly enjoyed watching Bernd’s trips to the Kalagadi – amazing scenes of bat-eared foxes, owls, cheetahs and lions – even a shot of a black crake which gave rise to intense banter between the men – in the lead up to Bernd finding his proof!

“You do not find black crake in the desert” (famous last words)

A family Saturday followed with the cousins.  Bev and Tom Fair with Frodo along with Brian and Marianne Alexander and their two dogs arrived for lunch. The dogs all beautifully behaved…  Bernd had three chickens on the rotisserie gently smoked with cameel-doring for flavour.  George had a new camera yet forgot to take photos!

Our niece Sally, husband Adrian and son Chad came for  Sunday lunch arriving early for morning tea to ensure we had time for family chats before a busy afternoon. Another photo opportunity missed George!  Our one and only weekend in the Cape had it packed. Sunday afternoon brought in the “Kariba-ites”. Sal helped her godmother clear the lunch deck and prepare afternoon tea before the gate bell began ringing. Sally, Adrian Chad and Bernd were soon swamped by ‘happy noise’!

Brenda Gray with her partner Andy. Her son Matthew Gray and partner Helene; Joan (Chooks) Langerman with her mother Evelyn Gibson; Two Cleland sisters Charmaine du Toit and Deborah - sat round the table with tea and cake as countless stories and memories were recounted of lives in Kariba - it was quite the most joyous afternoon.  Everyone wanted to see the most recent photos taken in Kariba – and George obliged with help from Bernd using his large screen TV.   It was TOUGH to break up and go our own ways

 All former students of Lea’s 1967 and 68 classes in Kariba.

Another delightful catch-up took place with Kit Veitch over morning tea.  Kit taught our daughters at Maidstone. Lea played social tennis – even some league tennis with Kit at the Maidstone Club, during our years in Tongaat.  Now Kit lived in Somerset West.

    

Our last day in the Cape we travelled through to Stellenbosch at the invitation of Allan and Helene Heydorn for lunch at the Guardian Peak Winery and Grill.  It was wonderful to be back in their company after many years. Allan, in fine form, turns 90 in May next year. He was the Director of The Oceanographic Research Institute in Durban when George arrived to work there. They kindly allowed our family to spend January in their home as they were away on holiday.  George had been unable to find any accommodation over the Christmas season for his family finally arriving to join him, from the Cape. 

Before taking to our beds for an early night we took Bernd to the Hussard Grill – famous for its pepper steaks.  Lea insisted she could hop into the back and did so with alacrity. However, when it came to get our she ended up lodging herself  between the seat and floor. She could not get out. Her husband weakly heaved to no avail.

Lea was firmly stuck... the hilarity drew car guards to see what was going on. 

We had another horrible early hour departure out of Cape Town.  Yet Bernd insisted he take us to the airport. We had to leave the house at 4 a.m.  No hold-ups fortunately on the busy N2 – W immediately had our one big case plastic wrapped. We would not need it until our return to Johannesburg, so hoped to leave it in Antananarivo, Madagascar as secure as possible.  Checked in and being a domestic flight, joined Bernd for breakfast at the Mugg and Bean.

We insist we are wanderers by heart. We feel quite indignant when folk say “enjoy your holiday” when our lifestyle takes us everywhere and ‘home’ is wherever we hang our hats! When the two of us set off to discover the wild, wonderful and very different creatures of Borneo we experienced an amazing frisson of excitement. This time, the same electrical current swept through us going to Madagascar to fulfill a dream and find this island's weird and wonderful creatures…  

Madagascar

We arrived in Antananarivo, capital city of Madagascar. Obtained our visas, cleared immigration, quickly spotted our bright blue and yellow bag and then waited for ever for our plastic wrap suitcase.  Eventually, helpful officials went to check beyond the ‘travellator’. We were far from delighted to discover Sky – Link hadn’t put our case aboard in Johannesburg. Once again, we made our way to report our ‘lost’ luggage and present the ticket to find a queue of several others in the same boat. A pretty poor show of South Africa’s Air Link as a carrier. Time was eaten up in the waiting and language problems on this French speaking Island. Concerned the ‘greet and meet’ from Jenman Safaris would depart thinking we were a no-show; George left the restricted area. We refused to let this calamity spoil our trip and the knowledge we did not need the heavy winter clobber within, was a relief. We didn’t want to lose the case and there was a long delay at the baggage claims department before Lea could arrange for its recovery.

 “Tu” our guide and “Duda” our driver from Jenman Safaris patiently waited for the luggage fiasco to be over. They would be looking after us for the next three days. Tu helped George exchange US dollars for Malagasy Ariary at the airport to avoid any problems or delay on our trip. Finally, we were on our way – with a half hour drive on the “wrong” side of the road, on the outskirts of the city to the Ibis Hotel. Our missing luggage, we all decided, could remain at the airport until we returned from our trip to Andasibe National Park.

Edging across the flats below the city of Antananarivo (population 2½ million) looked like any other “third world” city, littered with rubbish, along narrow densely trafficked streets lined by throngs of people buying all sorts of goods from road-stalls. We were fascinated to be crossing what was obviously an enormous swamp transformed into rice paddies and brick making fields. George could see water hyacinth growing in the canals with people up to their waists in the water collecting it for cattle fodder. We spotted small hand drawn carts full of the hyacinth being transported to sale points!

     

On our return to Australia, George discoverd these were the Betsimitatatra Swamps, the clear cutting of which commenced back in the 1650's. Through a construction of dikes expanded by successive sovereigns,these had spread into a vast patchwork of rice paddies to feed the local population. Vast is literal!

   

Our room at the Ibis Hotel could not be faulted, clean, with everything we could wish for. That evening we tried the local THB (Three Horses Beer) and stayed with Malagasy meals. Lea had a beautifully presented local curry dish while George was drawn to Zebu steak and chips.  Zebu or indicine cattle are characterised by a fatty hump on their shoulders, a large dewlap, large horns and sometimes, drooping ears. They are well adapted to high temperatures working as draft animals.  Well used to provide beef and dairy products too. The dung used for fuel and manure. Nothing is wasted. George found his steak tough though.

View from our bedroom window of Ibis Hotel – the swimming pool was empty!  

After a good breakfast with friendly staff, we were collected by Tu and Dudu ready for our adventure. Leaving Antananarivo, we rose up steep, sometimes cobbled roads giving us long views over the swamps towards the city as it rose higher on the other side of these central highlands.  Overlooking the city, the Rova of Antananarivo Palace complex perched higher. The three levels gave rise to a story that we were sure we would not forget but we did! However, the rickshaws we were to see later in the day found their local name here pousse pousse (meaning “push-push”) as a result of the steep hills to get up. The dense traffic (mainly minibus taxis), the traffic jams and the constant vehicle language of ‘hoots’ everyone else, but us, was well understood! All the swerving and braking required by our vehicle - reminiscent of travelling in Harare- added heart stopping moments and an interesting ride – especially while hastily snapping photos through the windows.

    

We were on our way to the Andasibe National Park, a four-hour (135km) drive east of Antananarivo. The countryside through which we passed, highly altered by a variety of land uses from quarrying to agriculture and deforestation. With over 80% of the original forest cover in Madagascar having vanished since the arrival of human beings over 2 000 years ago, and 135 000 ha of forest currently being cut down each year for the cultivation of rice, maize and manioc, only small, widely dispersed, pockets of natural forest remain. Every valley floor contained more transformed wetlands. Every floodplain was drained and cultivated or covered in water-filled ponds (paddies) in which people turned over sods of clay with spades.

 

In time the countryside became a lot more mountainous, the gradients a lot steeper and the road contained sharp curves (rather like the Andes). In spite of this, eucalyptus (gum trees) grew up the mountain sides. Not always in the form of plantations, George could only assume they had spread unaided. It was clear, gums seemed to be the basis of a thriving charcoal industry, not only was coppicing evident, there were masses of sacks containing charcoal, stacked up beside the road – for sale. The situation led George to wondering, in light of significant natural forest loss, whether alien vegetation gums were in fact, a blessing in disguise. Some form of forest cover was better than nothing at all? As we have so recently experienced - the most difficult roads often lead to beautiful destinations…  

  

A halfway break came at Peyreiras Reptile Park – where a most amazing display of chameleons ranging from the largest (the Parson chameleon) to the smallest (the pygmy stump nosed chameleon) in the world.  We battled to think when we last saw a chameleon in Africa, so part of our childhood and yet, rarely seen any more.  To wander around the park and unexpectedly notice these larger than life reptilian creatures and take close up photographs was an extraordinarily marvellous experience.

      

The Malagasy giant chameleon or Oustalet’s chameleon is endemic to Madagascar  

                                                                            

These distinctive and highly specialised clade of old-world lizard reptiles numbering around 202 species, come in a range of colours and many species have the ability to change colour. We had grown up with the understanding, chameleons were the master of camouflage. Our guide reckoned their colours changed according to ‘mood’.



We were fascinated by a variety of other reptiles particularly these leaf tailed geckos.

   And, the  small, brightly coloured frogs too (e.g. Golden and Baroni Mantellas).

The pygmy stump nose chameleon (Brookesia), unlike the others, is not arboreal. It creeps around on the ground where its drab colour acts as its camouflage among the dead leaves.

Shortly after our chameleon experience we stopped at a town called Moramanga for a lunch of soup and spring rolls. Just as well as the road ahead was packed with “push-push” cyclists bringing people to an end of term festival. No sooner were we out the car that the hordes turned into the car park and disappeared down to a sports field below.  We were similarly intrigued by the sight of belt driven “tractors” which resembled large lawn mowers on the road, towing trailers full of people.

A pousse-pousse 

The road was filled with heavy, slow moving trucks on their way to and from a port (Toamasina) on the east coast of Madagascar, some had broken down and were being repaired on the roadside. All made for slow going. The sight of young children, desperate for a handout from the lorry drivers, filled potholes which sent chills through us – a tragedy waiting to happen. Other times they danced and smiled, hoping some treat would come their way.

Eventually, we passed through the forests of the Andasibe National Park, crossed a narrow wooden bridge and checked into the Sahatandra River Hotel, our home for the next two nights.  Once settled in our bright green cabin, we relaxed with our books before exploring the grounds. Not a soul to be seen in the well-kept terraced gardens.

   

  

Just before dark, dressed in warm clothes and equipped with torches we met Tu and Dada in the car park and taken to a beautiful old station on the edge of the National Park for a “night walk”.  Buses and 4X4 vehicles turned at the circle with a war monument within and our hearts dropped. So many large groups of people – all on a walk at the same time along the edge of a relatively small patch of forest, we could have been in Disneyland.  We entered a Nature park ahead of the crowd with our guide and Tu, yet all we saw apart from the eyes of a woolly lemur, was a small chameleon and a leaf tailed gecko. Walking back along the tar road with all these people not to mention cars passing at regular intervals was no fun either! A disappointing waste of time – yet if you don’t do it – you may well miss out; as is the way of nature.  We had pre-ordered our dinner and didn’t have long to wait for its arrival back at the hotel. We were not the only people at the hotel. A small bus load of French tourists had arrived while we were away night-walking.  They were just finishing their meal and we recognized them  from our lunch stop.  

    

Our 51^st anniversary - our gift to each other  A Lemur Experience! Shrouded in early morning mist we set off after breakfast into the national park - the 870 ha Mantadia forest for our long-awaited encounter with lemurs. After a lengthy wait for our guide to complete the slow registration process at Park Headquarters, we read all the information boards. This National Park was set aside in 1970 as a special reserve for the protection of Indri.

The “singing Indri” – with its short stumpy tail and weighing up to 9 kg is largest of all the living lemurs. It is known to the Malagasy people as Babakoto, meaning the Father of Man – a taboo to kill them. At 85 decibels the wailing cries drift through the forest like whale song to alert other groups to their territorial boundary. Regarded to have one of the loudest cries known in the animal kingdom. Interestingly, the name ‘lemur’ in Roman mythology means “wandering souls of the dead” and once heard, you understood why.

With 80-90% of the original forest cover in Madagascar having vanished, 17 species of lemur have become extinct. Those remaining (all of which are endemic) are highly endangered.  Although late in the day, the Madagascan government has adopted an ‘eco-regional’ approach to conservation. The key to its success, as learnt by Keith and Colleen in Niassa, depends on collaboration with and the participation of all stakeholders, particularly the local people who depend on natural resources to survive.  We were delighted to hear the ethereal wail of the Indris as we took the path into the forest. Lea hoped that we’d hear them again  at close quarters.

Our first encounter with lemur was inside a bamboo thicket where three Eastern Grey bamboo lemurs, in their preferred habitat, looked nothing more than blobs of brown fur at the top of thin swaying bamboo sticks. Impossible to photograph in poor misty conditions. 

 

We climbed up many steps leading ever deeper into the forest before coming across a family of Diadamed (or Golden) Sifakas, one carrying a baby.  While we peered upwards – they became excited about something and gave us a marvellous display of acrobatics, leaping from tree to tree – Not easy photographing directly upwards while dashing around in the undergrowth nor was it easy on our necks!

Further along the path, we found our first Indris. A pair of them, warming themselves in the first rays of sun breaking through the forest, right up at the top of a tree. Unexpectedly an unseen family group, close by, broke into song, wailing loudly and leaping around all over the place! Unreal – as it engulfed and created a surge of manic excitement within us! A reminder of the chimpanzees at Chimfunshi  when they filled the air with hooting or the howler monkey in the Amazon – all so primordial.

 

Indri share the forest with a number of other lemurs, most notably the golden sifaka. They exhibit ‘resource partitioning’ by feeding at different levels and on different parts of the trees - the Indri feeds on leaves while the sifaka feed on fruit and flowers.

Our guide located a couple of Woolly lemurs sleeping huddled together in the forest canopy, almost impossible to see. Rather like koalas, they are inactive by day and spend most of their time sleeping. The Common Brown lemur we found next also preferred to hide from us giving mere glimpses.  

A male paradise flycatcher teased us with all his flitting about in the understorey before settling for a photo. 

Our guide pointed out a couple of beautifully marked Green Day Geckos basking on the broad, sharp edged leaves of a Vakona palm;  and the thin, hollow-stemmed palm (Psidia lutea) used for making  blow guns; the oval shaped ant nests attached to trees; epiphytic cacti used to get rid of dandruff; as well as a number of other plants used for medicinal purposes. As our 4½ hours walk drew to an end we found a group of golden sifakas feeding on bug-weed – the introduced, bird dispersed South American shrub Solanum mauritianum!  Who would have thought it possible but there it was, together with Lantana, being fed upon and dispersed by lemurs!

Team photo - of Tu, NP guide and Duda at Andasibe H/Q.

Although called a rainforest, an annual rainfall of 1750 mm per year certainly comes nowhere close to what we’d call rain forest in Australia. Aside from the drama created when lemurs call there was a surprising lack of bird sounds or butterflies in the forest.

Outside the Park we stopped for lunch at a restaurant with very steep steps up to its dining area, looking down on the dusty road and forest beyond, Thereafter, we continued to Vakona Island, a lemur sanctuary established in 1996 with the objective of protecting lemurs threatened by hunting pressures and habitat loss.  We were canoed across to the island and no sooner stepped ashore and warned that brown lemurs  could jump onto us – than one landed on  Dadu giving him the fright of his life and doing exactly what we’d just be told not to do – shriek and jump away!  These friendly brown lemurs are so accustomed to people (habituated) and always hopeful the guide will have bananas!

 We spent many good minutes up close and personal with them.

The black and white ruff Lemur came up close enough

  

Bamboo lemur lured lower down to a tree by banana!  

We jumped back into the canoe to reach another section of the island cut off by water. Here, close contact was not encouraged, and we viewed the very striking red ruffed lemurs and a golden sifaka or dancing lemur moving about in the thickets, until banana thrown on to the shore just metres from our boat enticed them into the open. We delighted in that glorious burnt-orange or red coated, long black furry tailed lemur- the depth of colour enriched in the sunlight,  snuffling around in search of banana.

 

Red ruffed lemur

 And we were totally entranced by the Golden Sifaka bouncing along on two legs.

We could not have wished for better to end our day out with the lemurs - Madagascar, an island of geographic isolation provides a home to some amazing creatures seen nowhere else on earth. 

After the winding drive home through hilly countryside, we contentedly went down to the restaurant to enjoy a beer together and order dinner.  A man from Afghanistan who, grew up in the UK, worked in the UK and Germany before going back to the land of his birth – finds himself traveling widely on business- he’d made this side trip here while in Madagascar. He gave us a most interesting perspective on political and financial affairs and we reluctantly dragged ourselves away when our dinner call came.

Tu advised our flight to Morondava, on the west coast of Madagascar had been brought forward. He’d order breakfast be delivered to our room at 4 a.m. “NO Ways” we simultaneously cried!  We’d easily last the five-hour journey without breakfast rather than endure eating at that ghastly hour. Consequently, we were up at “sparrows”. The first hour of travel was ghastly experience of creeping through thick mist … The temperature outside 6⁰C and visibility so poor that Doda, could scarcely see. Frantically wiping the windscreen as we climbed up mountain passes, and poorly lit trucks appeared out of the gloom. As the day dawned in such misty conditions the amount of traffic increased adding to our anxiety. Ahead of us, large trucks and petrol bowsers spewed diesel fumes as we crawled up and down the mountain behind them. George could taste diesel in the back of his throat and, not having food in his belly with all the twists and turns in the road and swerving around potholes, he felt very queasy.   We had thought driving through on a Sunday would be quiet yet the smoggy little villages we drove through, all bustled with people in their Sunday best, walking the road edges to get to church on time.

By the time we reached the outskirts of Antananarivo, congestion was humongous.  People thronged the street on either side bringing us to a standstill as vehicles and buses choked up the narrow road further ahead.  We didn’t dare hazard a guess as to why people were not bumped or knocked over as they brushed up against cars despite the slow speed. As for wing mirrors they constantly came within a hairs breadth of being smashed or damaged against a wall, a person or another wind mirror!  The Antananarivo mini-bus taxis travelled with their back doors swinging back and forth while a man controlled the entry and exit and took fees.  A mixture of fascination and fear as we watched passengers of all ages leap in and out while the taxi kept on the move.

Despite all the slow movement of the trip we arrived at the airport in five hours, we immediately went to the International side and located our case in a storeroom piled high with luggage.  Back it went to the vehicle for safe keeping in the Jenman Safari Office until our return from Morondava.  At the entrance to check-in we discovered our flight would not be leaving until 2.00pm. Stunned, Tu could only point us to a café to sit with our luggage until time for our check-in.  We assured him we’d be fine, and farewells made. It obviously bothered him as he returned later  to ensure we were OK.  Long after our breakfast was over, we felt we could no longer hog the table and returned to the Check-in Entrance – ‘porters’ pestered to take our trolley as we sought official advice on where to line up. An airport official took us in through the crowds, side lined us, against a wall and intimated we should wait there. Queues, congestion and noise gave us little confidence. Word spread between other English speakers and in time we found fellow travellers going to Morondava and we clustered together – and when the number to our check-in desk eventually came up, we helped each other get through the masses.  Finally, we were in the departure lounge and a more peaceful corner taken up for the next two hours. As time crept ever so slowly towards 2 and no gate mentioned Morondava!  Angry voices had us turn our attention to another gate where a riot threatened to break.  Ground Staff tried to maintain calm – a hostess arrived with coupons and the furore immediately settled. The mob disappeared to the café behind us for food.  Lea went to that gate and showed her boarding pass … only to learn our flight was delayed and yes, we would depart from there in time.  In all, we spent six hours in less than comfortable, noisy surrounds before our gate opened...  

The flight to Morondava (population 80 000) took an hour - flight path shown in blue.

Our new guide Nana introduced herself and Jo the driver – they were responsible for us, this side of the island. They had been hanging about the airport for hours unable to ascertain what was happening; they too, had wasted the day. We seemed to travel down one long main road very busy with push-push bikes. Ideal transportation in this flat coastal region.  Not too far, to our most welcome hotel - Le Renala au Sable. Shown to a lovely rustic chalet set on the beach front. No fences just wide-open beach - After being enveloped in so much  ‘safety’ these past months- this openness seemed rather disconcerting. Any qualms were soon alleviated by the security guards constantly moving about the hotel compound. We regularly saw a guard sitting on a step or in the shade of a grove of coconuts protecting our frontage.  Directly opposite us lay the Mozambique Channel and, 400km due west would be Beira.

  

The sun setting, we eagerly set off to stretch our legs on the big wide beach.  The tide was high, brightly coloured canoes with their outriggers pulled well above the high-water mark. It was just good to breathe in cool air and be out in the open for an hour as we hungrily waited for the dining room to open in the front corner – two cabins away from ours.  We found it empty with no tables laid nor had we seen other guests. The Maître D was quick to make us feel welcome- he spoke English well and was ready to jest as he brought us a chilled THB – our Madagascan beer of choice and laid the table out on the veranda. Our meal ended up lost in translation! Lea received three starters and George had a main.  The delicious smoked swordfish on croutons became a nightly order. Although it was served up differently every time seemed to depend on the duty cook! It had been a long and wasted day – We could say ‘this is Africa – we can expect such things”? To Lea’s mind it is the negative side of air travel. Hours of getting to an airport; hours of waiting about in airports; dealing with late or delayed flights.  Further insult to the day, George discovered his ‘Uncle George’ engraved Leatherman, hidden in the concealed pocket of our hold baggage had been stolen during the waiting hours in Tana. 

Early next day we gobbled down a baguette and jam breakfast to get us through the long day ahead. Soon after we joined the traffic; carefully avoided the multitude of “push-push” bikes as we made our way to the Kirindy Reserve, 60km away, NW of Morondava, at the end of a rough, sandy track- another so called national road!  Two hours of hanging onto our seats while captivated by the baobabs. A symbol of life - we so love Adansonia – a group of upside-down trees,  of which there are nine species in the world.  Adansonia digitata and kilima found on the African mainland. We had grown up with them in Zimbabwe – picnics under a baobab tree, Keith and Justine, breast fed, as brand new babies under a baobab tree as we took them home to Kariba. Many memories incorporated the largest, widest, oldest of these trees in our psyche. As grey nomads in Australia, travelling the Kimberly we fell for this small specie of irregularly shaped Adansonia gregorii  ‘boab’ as they are known, huddled together in friendship circles or entwined lovingly- although we recall being aghast when a fellow traveller denounced them as very vulgar! There are more than  three million baobabs in  Madagascar which is home to six native species.  Three species around Morondava and we were to see see all three during the day. In the majority, tall columned trunks, each bearing an umbrella shaped topknot of branches.  

Adansonia grandidieri

 Out in the rice fields, these baobabs stood like a lone statue or sentinels in the midst of unusual combinations of vegetation types. It was not a landscape we associated with baobabs.

 

Reaching the famous Avenue of Baobabs as the morning sunlight gently lit them, quite took our breath away. We could only take in fleeting looks in all direction and take quick photographs as time was of the essence to reach Kirindy as early as possible. From thereon, the road became increasingly sandy, even corrugated in places and contained numerous undulations as the surrounding countryside became dominated by dry, deciduous forest – the habitat, we’d come far to explore.

The Kirindy Reserve (13 000 ha) is partly owned by both the government and the local communities that surround it. Each community owns a section of the forest, they all participate in its management and share the income derived from entry fees and overseas donors.  On arrival, A Park Guide joined us and off we went following a network of small paths that led through a very dry forest of tightly growing tall and mostly deciduous trees, looking for lemurs.



We came across a Madagascan Scops owl asleep in a lowly stump; a narrow striped mongoose; a giant coua bird, with bright blue crown walking about the undergrowth; and learnt about some of the trees. The Vaza tree, for example, with bark that peeled like the skin of white people with sunburn.  In the hot sun in this dry environment we could scarcely credit much being out here, especially lemurs. At a junction, Nana went one way to widen the search. She had spent study years in Kirindy and knew the Park well.  We followed our guide and came across very fast moving, white coloured, Verraux’s sifaka – we chased after them following a path and until they settled - split between two big trees. 

Verraux’s sifaka - difficult to photograph, sitting high in the boughs of the tree. The sun angle far from ideal.

We spent time shifting around the bases of both trees trying to get better sightings or relieve the angle of our necks. The road through the park immediately to one side – we decided to return, No sign of Nana – the guide went back into the forest to find her while we returned along the road to the campground. The restaurant/bar a perfect central place to cool off with a coke.  We could see the guide and Nana returning as we ordered. Our coke hadn’t reached the table when our guide began running  westwards shouting FOSSA…  in a flash we were up and ‘running’ too, scarcely believing we’d “hit the jackpot”!

Madagascar’s only carnivore – the fossa! Weird looking, it was difficult to decide whether they were dog-like or somewhat hyena. George was reminded of the thylacine or Tasmanian Tiger – now extinct.  Fossa belong to the Cat family - they are large brown cats with very  long tails. The pair we saw came to the staff dining room for a drink of water before heading down through the bush to collapse in the shade of a guest bungalow.   We followed them there and George was warned not to go too close as they bite.

Pair of Fossas drinking

   

The other extraordinary thing, to George’s inquisitive mind, was the size of the penis – seldom seen on a cat – lions included!  Apparently, fossa’s mate while perched on the branch of a tree. In the mating season the female fossa climbs a tree and calls… Up to 15 males congregate beneath the tree and fight until the winner, the strongest, climbs up to mate. The local people will kill fossas as, like genet cats, they readily swipe their chickens.  Lea and Nana returned to claim the cokes! On route, a cleaner showed the two of them the bite on her thigh from a fossa the previous day when she had unexpectedly startled it coming out of a bungalow.

The trees behind the water-tank for the toilet block proved an ideal place to observe several endemic species of birds - the magpie robin; Madagascan sparrow-hawk; white headed vanga; and a crested drongo or “king of the birds” as it is known here.

  

Over lunch we enjoyed a long chat with Nana on all subjects.  On the road to Kirindy we had passed tombs. Each gaily painted with pictures that depicted the personality and work of the deceased. From this arose a discussion on the custom of the Malagasy people. Opening the tombs after a certain amount of time to turn or wrap the bones.  Nana is the eldest in her family and when they lost their parents, she found it impossible to take part in this grieving ceremony when it came time to ‘turn the bones’.  Nana’s struggles to educate herself and  go into the field of tourism was admirable. Although freelancing allows her to care for her son and bring up her sisters – her knowledge and abilities led us to believe she would do a better job advising and guiding guests to her country. Many unpaid working hours surround freelancing – as in waiting around the airport! George decided to return to the water tank and watch birds. He no sooner settled there than we called him back to see a chameleon. George began to suspect his wife may be up to her antics when his bird watching was interrupted a second time…

Word swiftly spread that a group of red fronted brown lemurs had been seen at the opposite end of the campground. We dashed up there and found the tail end of a lemur sticking out of a dustbin searching for tit-bits. Came up lucky, with a banana skin and was immediately swamped by a few others wanting a share.  

       

Red-fronted brown lemur

A family with two young boys had parked near the bin and these kids began rushing around in the excitement of this lemur visit which was rather off-putting. Never-the-less curious lemurs drew close.  Nana fetched a cup from the staff cabins, filled it with water and placed it well away from rowdy boys. No sooner had she placed the water - these agile creatures swung out of the trees – rather like vervet monkeys and walked the logs awaiting cutting – in ungainly gait, alert to any movement as they surrounded the water mug and took long drinks.

Drinking water…

Finally, George hoped for peace and quiet with the birds before we departed Kirindy. Lea and Nana returned to the restaurant and made themselves comfortable near a fan.  Only, the lemurs made their way to the Staff dining-room where a meeting had just been completed.  We beckoned George yet again… A bowl of sugar had been put out of the way and forgotten about. The lemurs found it! A sugar-high dance took place as lemurs darted about on top of the cupboard and counter. At intervals, departing cars would rev through the sand close by this open aired building. The lemurs would leap into the trees skirting the building, before realizing all was well. Back they’d come. Very difficult to stop animal habituation when humans so easily make errors!

[Lea captured a clip of the nonsense that went on but, during the writing of the blogs, where technical hitches abounded, she mislaid all trace of the few photo clips taken.]

  

Despite such disrupted bird-watching George returned for the last half hour. Ladies retired to the seats giving a ‘window on the camp’ back in the restaurant. Unbelievably, the next greatest find was about to unfold… Poles at different points of the restaurant supported the roof. There were two doorways on either side of the well protected bar -  A secretive and very safe haven had been taken up by the smallest primate in the world, weighing around 45g.  Movement had caught the barman’s eye as it scuttled up the 4 timbers that boxed in a pole and disappeared inside.  He called us over and we watched and waited… nothing stirred.  While he popped off to the kitchen, the mouse lemur rose out of the hole and we gasped. Lea managed to take a couple of shaky photos with her phone camera while Nana rushed to fetch George.  Did George believe … NO! We waited with bated breath. The barman returned with banana and smeared it across the top panels of wood.   No disturbance … no movement - nothing!  Suddenly a little head popped up above the parapet and George miraculously captured it on camera.  Very mouse like tail and body with a face like a night ape (nag-apie).

Madame Berthe’s Mouse Lemur

A superb ending to all the excitement that had arisen around the Kirindy campground.  On our way home, with no time constraints, we were able to stop at a number of other interesting sites –

First, one of the local village’s where an example of baobab bark panels used as a roofing material was still in evidence. This traditional practice is no longer allowed. All baobabs are protected.

An enormous spiritual baobab protected by a fence.   

Like the baobab in Keith’s film ‘Spirit Creatures’ people gather around the base wrapping it in cloth on spiritual occasions.  A baobab is considered 'Reniala' - Mother of the Forest.  Within a lovely baobab grove opposite, a lively market was taking place. The little village, set further back, had learned to make the most from passing traffic and tourists.

Further down the road we turned off to visit a beautiful little campground set up by one of the local communities.  Tethered close by to the parking area were two zebus. Their cart with a large barrel of water was in the process of being emptied bucket by bucket and carried up to the cabins. The Community buy water for their camp giving work and cash for the collection and delivery of water.

                      

The centre-piece a pair of entwined baobabs known as “the lovers”. 

Alongside this central area was a round Reception building made of wood  Women busy with their fingers making baskets to fund-raise for reading books. Lea was very happy to pop a donation in the box towards books.

Last stop was Madagascar’s famous “Avenue of the Baobabs”, specifically to photograph at sunset and pay full justice to this beautiful place.  The Visitors Centre constructed of well finished wood gave views in all directions to baobabs. A lovely gift shop selling unusual table mats – impressed Lea.  Multi-level decks surrounded the centre allowing early birds to recline with a drink in hand.   Nursery of baby baobabs row upon row, one side. 

Visitors Centre  (NGO initiated)

On the other side of the road a purpose-built market sold wooden carvings of baobabs of all sizes.

A display of baobab carvings the locals make from palisandre wood. 

As evening drew in, buses, 4X4 WD galore and even ‘push-push’ bikes arrived bringing tourists, travellers and backpackers; The car park soon filled to bursting.  Parking was at a premium. So many vehicles congregating at the village each evening required the villagers to step up and keep an orderly check, well away from the ‘Alley de Baobab’ and charge for parking - a well-deserved income for the community.

By the allotted time a large crowd had gathered – found optimal places to take their iconic photo. Two drones swooped in and out of the Avenue of Baobabs capturing pictures.

 A band struck up on homemade drums beating out the rhythms of Africa as little children danced and smiled as the nightly festivities took over for the night, beginning with the moment the sun dipped and illuminated the magnificent baobabs bringing a momentary hush of reverence.

Simply Glorious – Atmospheric! It brought to a stunning end to another extraordinary day in an altogether extraordinary country.  Mindful of the mad dash that would occur in time, we reluctantly departed and took to the road.  Once again, hearts leapt into our throats as poor lighting and darkness  revealed villagers returning by foot or push-push bike from the nearest big  town. On reaching the town at the junction to this road, numbers increased as people flocked back and forth across the streets heading home or buying ingredients for their dinner. Vegetables laid out along pavements and stalls, will a last minute sale.  Back in Morondava – mindless crowds also crisscrossed with little concern for wheels and ‘hooting chatter’ became more vocal. 

Nana arrived at 8.00 as we had to tie in with the high tide for the last of our planned outings, by canoe, to the fisherman’s village of Betania. We were paddled across a mangrove lined channel to a beach on the opposite side where a large number of womenfolk were preparing to take the day’s catch to the market in town.

   

Skeletal ribs stood out along the inland side of the village - a number of traditional fishing boats were under construction with each of the curved beams and the hand-hewn keels fashioned, by hand, coming from hardwood trees as and when it becomes available. We wondered how long it took to complete a large boat like this. A large number of dugouts from a softwood called “farafatsy” (Givolia species) for its buoyancy, lay out in the sun and we wondered where the wood all came from.

Two and half hours later we were done walking through the village seeing how people lived and the animals snuffling around in the sand – pigs, goats and chickens. We returned to find our canoe. The little boy who’d accompanied his father, came dashing through the crowd to meet him. Just as well as we had no idea where our boat was in the mass of boats waiting on the water’s edge. We could not return to our point of departure as the tide had dropped instead, our two boatmen half waded and rowed us to the opposite bank where a large number of people waited to be ferried across to attend a funeral.  We walked back along the main road to our hotel with Nana, seeing all the many market stalls and holiday resorts backing onto the beach. As Nana’s two-year-old son was to be baptised next day, we would not see her again, we bade her farewell. We spent the rest of the morning reading. In hindsight, we’d much preferred to have stayed overnight in Kirindy and spent another day there with a night walk included.  Later we walked the full length of the beach up to the channel.

Watched the square sailed dhows (pirogues) sailing in from offshore.

Canoes being baled and carried ashore and puzzled over the molehill like mounds formed by crabs near the high-water mark. We concluded that after excavating its burrow the crab “sweeps” the mound further away from the entrance … but why? 

 

     

Our final dinner with our set nightly order of smoked swordfish starter and chilled Three Horse Beer was followed up with the most delicious grilled prawns for dinner – So well priced I don’t know why we hadn’t eaten this dish every night too.

Another wasted ‘flying’ day! We awoke late and wasted further time over breakfast.  Beach vendors congregated out on the beach and tried to catch our eye - like moths around a light trying to sell their T-shirts, bags, sarongs and carvings. One can understand their desperation. Security chased them off – we haven’t had to be subjected to their harassment walking on the beach late afternoon and evening.  However, knowing they were out there prevented us from taking a last walk on the beach after breakfast.  The driver took us to the Morondava airport around 11.30, where we hung around for an hour until the check- in process commenced. With no automatic scanner - all luggage had to be opened and inspected by hand with a metal detector – we’d carefully cable tied ours so that had to be cut and all replaced afterwards. Our boarding tickets had nothing written on them because there was no toner in the printer. It was a new type of boarding experience altogether. Another long wait for an inspection of our hand luggage before we were allowed to enter the departure lounge.

Once back in Antananarivo we were met by a new driver, Tookie with our big suitcase! He drove us to the Ibis Hotel, taking a very different route. It took well over an hour – not that we minded in the slightest  as  there were plenty of sights to be seen  around the base of the city - not the least, were more views of the Betsimitatatra Swamps with rice paddies, brick making activity and  hyacinth reaping. In places we even saw chickens walking on water hyacinth, as if they were jacanas!  Finally, we were back to the Ibis Hotel, a first world oasis in the midst of a third world ocean. 

 

The pool had been filled- familiar faces greeted us at dinner and we retired to our room to watch BBC and catch up on world news. Next morning dawned cold and blustery. From our window we looked down upon great activity and preparations for a wedding?  By the time we went downstairs for breakfast we discovered all the dignitaries in military garb were gathering for a “signing ceremony” in the marquis, set up on the lawn alongside the swimming pool. By midday we were at the airport, processed and at the gate to hang about until 2.30 for our return flight to Johannesburg. 

GAUTENG, South Africa

There, among the thick pall of smog hanging over the city, we were smoothly met by Air-link taxi service, Keith had pre-arranged for us and whisked through the fast flowing streams of traffic along the freeway and arterial streets of Johannesburg to Fourways Gardens, to see nephew Michael Begg and meet his wife Anne.  We had completely lost touch with Michael over the years.  He had never been at home when we touched base with his parents. Lea’s last memory was Mike as a 5-6 year old at our wedding.  Mike reminded George of a meeting in Scottburgh back in the 1980’s when Mike had come to see his grandfather. George with Keith had turned up. Consequently, with George’s brother / Mike’s father’s current predicament and much water having passed under the bridge; we'd been desperate not to have any delays on the only night we could have together.  We enjoyed an incredible evening. Mike and Anne had very recently moved to Johannesburg. Mike in a new job, with a mining company.

 Mike Begg

It was an evening that left our minds reeling as we discussed past years – his mother, Penny Begg nee Burrows died  weeks before of motor neuron disease. Anne had provided support in those last months; left us both filled with respect for these two members of the Begg family, we barely knew and yet felt a great connection to, by the end of the night.  George was up early to catch Mike before he left for work at an early hour.  After breakfast Anne kindly drove us to Boskruin, half an hour away for our stay with cousin Pene and Robin Mills.

On the off chance that we could meet somewhere George phoned his old shamwari, Alan Kemp, only to discover the very distressing news - his wife Meg required full time nursing and he could not leave her. We took a walk down to the nearby shopping centre. On the path through the local park we were stunned to find rock hyraxes (dassies) climbing trees and feeding on leaves out on the flimsiest branches.  Down on the ground domestic rabbits scampered around. As soon as we were back from the shops George returned to the park with his camera only to find all the dassies sitting on rocks just as hyraxes normally do!  George felt determined to study these tree climbing dassies, in Jo’burg of all places!

After breakfast next day, he was back in Bartlett Park among the many rabbits, nesting weavers and sparrows and within an hour or so he’d obtained enough photos of dassies in treetops, to satisfy his curiosity and provide evidence of a habit he’d never seen or heard of.

   

Saturday afternoon, with us refusing to drive  in Johannesburg surrounds,  Pene kindly drove us through to Rosebank to see Gill Zank.  A wonderfully happy afternoon as Gill regaled us with stories of life in this retirement home. Ooh! And the two proud Gogo’s probably bored Pene and George talking about their jointly owned remarkable children and grandchildren!

 

Sunday morning had everyone but Lea dashing off early in different directions.  Pene to Pretoria to give a talk, Rob to church as he sings in the choir and George was outside the Security gate waiting to be picked up by Mike Barter (ex-Peterhouse, junior to me by four years). He duly arrived, wearing his Peterhouse cap, in an open 1966 red Sunbeam and took me back to his house in Craighall Park. There the two men spent the next few hours poring over his marvellous collection of Rhodesiana (books); BSA Company stamps (unrecorded post marks included) and Cape of Good Hope title deeds and wills dating back to the days of Jan van Riebeck (1800s).  Mike also had a collection of butterflies in his office that had been collected on the kopje at Peterhouse; a collection of firearms; Tilley Lamps, and vintage motor bikes – so all in all George had a most fascinating visit, always conscious time was running out and he had to be back in Boskruin by 11.30.

Lea was sorry she didn’t get a photo of the 'Cheshire cat' as he was driven home in this bright red Sunbeam!

It was Martin Mill’s birthday – eldest son of Pene and Rob. We gathered for a birthday celebration lunch at a local restaurant joined by Rob’s sister, Jenny Bourdillon; Martin and his two children William and Julia and a young friend of theirs.  Penny joined us as soon as she was back from Pretoria.  

 Monday afternoon a very emotional meet up took place with Elinor Parkes. Her son Drummond lives across the road from Pene and Rob. Lea had kept an eye on the property hoping to catch Drummond and ask for his cousin James Boland’s phone number. When Lea did - Elinor heard we were here and made contact.  Decades had passed since we’d seen Elinor as a young girl although her sister had always kept Lea informed of all family news.  Her sister and Lea's very dear friend Jeanette Boland - always known as Scottie in our family - had died just as we arrived in Zimbabwe. Her son James had phoned and Lea had been so shaken, the short conversation ended with no details.  Elinor- with an uncanny likeness to her sister and the Scottish lilt still so evident overwhelmed Lea a few times during the afternoon as she spoke of Scottie’s last weeks and together we recalled the life of Scottie and Alan.

That evening, while Rob was at choir practice, Pene gave us her power point presentation – inspired by her trip to Australia and the Top End in July 2018  which she presented in Turkey and continued to present around South Africa.

It was our son Keith’s birthday and somewhat fittingly we were collected by Andrew Middleton and his mother Hilary, down from Zimbabwe in his sporty car and taken to his home.  He’d taken a couple of days leave to share with his Mom and we were delighted to join them for her last day.  

Andrew, not only an avid Lego builder- a historian too. He needs a bigger house!

 We met Quinn, the much loved pooch - up to now we only knew through photographs.  As we did  Andrew’s wife Shona. However, we finally met lovely Shona returning from work before Andrew  took us back to Boskruin.  Hilary returned to Harare next day and we went to Dullstroom.

Avoiding the worst of the traffic we departed on a three-hour (340km) journey taking the N4 toll route, a superb 2-3 lane freeway that leads to Mozambique. It took us past numerous mines that supply coal to the Kendal, eMalakeni (outside Witbank); Hendrina (outside Middleburg) and Arnot power stations where, not surprisingly the air very hazy due to all the smoke / emissions involved. At the Alzur Petroport we stopped to fill up – and looked over the enclosure that contained a small herd of buffalo, some white rhino and sable antelope. 
Dullstroom  is one of the coldest towns  in the Mpumpalanga province  and along with the Underberg in Kwa Zulu Natal, is the premier fly fishing area.  'De Berg'  in Dullstroom is the highest point in the province  so we could expect to be cold!  By lunch time we had arrived - black cat included at “The Croft”, Pene and Rob’s beautiful retirement home on Walkerson’s Private Estate – a trout fisherman’s paradise.

George and Rob spent most of the afternoon talking about the geology of the Bushveld Igneous Complex, with all its intrusions of platinum and gold discovered by the geologist Merensky; as well as Rob’s extraordinary career as a mining engineer. Rob’s interest in engineering has grown ever since he went underground as a schoolboy to see the turbine hall being built at the Kariba power station. After learning what mining was all about at a hands-on technical college (as opposed to a university) and subsequently joining Anglo-American, Rob has worked as mine manager / technical director of mines all over southern Africa – diamond mines in South Africa, Namibia and Botswana; gold mines in the Transvaal; platinum mines in Rhodesia and South Africa; nickel mines in Zimbabwe and copper mines in Zambia. Rob is on the Board of several mining operations in South Africa; serves in an advisory capacity on working mines in Brazil, Chile and Canada and, as a senior operating partner in the London based firm Appian Capital Advisory, currently plays an active role in all their affairs, world-wide.  Robin claims to be semi-retired but is far from it!   Pene and Lea happy to retire to their beds with a book.

We set off for a good walk around the estate and after dinner that evening stepped back in time watching 8mm home movies of the Howman Family including some early Kariba / Operation Noah scenes. 

Next day we set off with wheelbarrow to collect zebra droppings for the garden. A photo of the dung collectors sadly  disappearing....  as did the photographic story of George's mosaic!  Each window ledge at The Croft has a mosaic - created by family members coming for a stay.  George learned to  mosaic from the Master, Pene on our first visit to The Croft seven years ago.  He was very keen to do another. In particular, a leaf-tailed gecko as a memory of our trip to Madagascar. He spent the morning designing with the ceramic tiles to fit the window ledge.

During the course of our walks around the estate we came across a variety of interesting things including signs of aardvark digging massive holes into the walls of the trout dams and the ironwood (ysterhout) bushes all in flower – a profusion of colourful ladybird beetles feeding on the inflorescences.

Early spring flowers were bursting out and all the ysterhout trees were covered in lady birds.

George was up very early to continue work on his leaf-tailed gecko project before close friends of Rob and Pene’s - Dick and Lynne Hardie, arrived for tea. A most interesting couple; Lynne an exceptionally good quilter and Dick a retired electrical engineer, radio ham fanatic.  They had planned to retire on Walkerson’s Estate only to end up on another in Dullstroom, itself.  We were taking Rob and Pene to lunch at the Critchley Hackle Lodge in Dullstroom. The pleasure of the morning continued on to lunch with Lynne and Dick joining us. Lea saw they had a jeep and eagerly jumped aboard.

Critchley Hackle Lodge was delightful and the staff reception and service superb!

Conversations roved in all direction nonstop and, when it was obvious we ought to move on…the thought of breaking up a good party was just not possible! Very like Kariba days, we simply moved on to the next place - Lynne and Dick’s home. A walk around their estate followed before we returned to the veranda for afternoon tea, where we were joined by a neighbour.  Later, the Chairman of the Homeowners Association, an Afrikaans “full bottle” Boer War historian, arrived to talk about an outing he was taking to a nearby farm, next day – He kept us entertained with so many stories, we could only think he was related to the well-known author, Herman C Bosman!  A great pity we all had to return to Boskruin for our flight home to Perth.  That history tour appealed to us all.   We forced ourselves to leave the ‘party’! 

Our African Adventure almost well and truly over – we departed Dullstroom with a smooth and easy trip back to Johannesburg. There, we   packed our bags - weighed to ensure all was correct before Avis collected us for the trip out to the airport. No hold ups either, with plenty of time in hand to check-in and reach our gate and await our flight to back to Perth, Western Australia.

Arrival home on the first day of Spring, 1st September, can only be described as a shock.  Perth’s winter was far from over, it was pouring with rain and the temperature, that week seemed to sit on 3⁰C.  What a wonderful winter we’d experienced in Africa- a suitcase of boots and coats had not been used!  We always say  a good  place is where the kookaburra calls and as we stepped into 'Getaway' a cacophony of kookaburras laughed themselves silly in the old gum-tree above us - no better welcome, safely home!  

Until we are back on the road with SKV and Getaway … there will be a silence. We are hanging about Perth to have Christmas with our Gee family and Lea is on the waiting list for an eye procedure.

              

"The most beautiful things in life are not things.
They're people, and places and memories, and pictures.
They're  feelings and moments and smiles and laughter"