ZAMBEZI REGION
Ken Barris enjoys a gameviewing idyll along the waterways of northern Botswana and Namibia
Two hippos come crashing into a bar… It may sound like the start of a joke, but it really happened. The bar was at Shakawe River Lodge in northwestern Botswana, on the Kavango River. We’d arrived there after a marathon fourday drive from Cape Town and, as we stepped onto the deck of the lodge, we were greeted by a magnificent view of the broad, papyrus-fringed river – along with a sign warning guests not to interfere with ‘our hippopotamus’ roaming the lawn because, well, he is a hippo and therefore dangerous. Testimony to this was the skull of a small hippo bull he’d killed a couple of years before, now mounted at the lodge entrance. The story, according to our waiter, is that they came crashing through the bar – no doubt a bar fight to remember.
After lunch, we set up camp in a shady spot next to the river. The first of many avian residents to greet us was a fish eagle and her mate, nesting in a tree about 50 metres away. The riverbank right below us was home to dozens of white-fronted bee-eaters. We spent the afternoon soaking up the serene flow of the river, watching it gradually darken as the sun set. The evening was rounded off by an unforgettable chilli con carne made by our Texan friend, Louis Edner.
We took it easy the next morning, reading and enjoying the bee-eaters and pied kingfishers, jacanas, grey go-away birds, blacksmith lapwings and the aforementioned eagles (we were lucky that Martin Nicol, one of our group, is a fount of bird-watching knowledge). A spotted-necked otter joined us, draped artfully on a curved log nearby, to sunbathe.
‘THE LARGEST VISITORS WE HAD WITHIN OUR CAMP WERE A FAMILY OF WARTHOGS, AND THEY BEHAVED THEMSELVES IMPECCABLY’
On an afternoon boat cruise, we passed densely forested banks and endless reed beds with their gorgeous reflections. We saw a number of crocodiles, mostly small, but sadly no hippos. Our guide explained that they were scarce because of the unusual height of the river. We were compensated by sightings of African darters, hamerkops, little swifts, pied kingfishers and a huge goliath heron beating its way across the river.
The next day we crossed into Namibia and took a leisurely game drive through the Mahongo area of the Bwabwata National Park. It’s filled with impressive baobabs, big game plus more unusual sightings of red lechwe, roan and sable antelope and, unexpectedly, cattle grazing together with zebras and wildebeest in the presence of their herders. More than 5000 people live in the park; they were involved in planning it a decade ago, and now manage it.
The largest wetland under conservation in Namibia is in Nkasa Rupara National Park, which is centred on two islands at the junction of the Kwando and Linyanti rivers – Nkasa and Lupala, accessed via a narrow steel bridge. The area is inaccessible in the rainy season; perversely, that is the best time for birding because it coincides with the spring breeding season.
We stayed at Rupara RestCamp, just outside the park, which had an ablution block sporting solar lights and a wood-fired donkey that was lit at five every afternoon. However, we bought wood at the shop in the reserve (which also sells eminently drinkable wines) and fired it up ourselves in the mornings. There are leopards, lions, crocs and hippos in the reserve, but the largest visitors we had within our camp were a family of warthogs. They behaved themselves impeccably and didn’t raid our pantry, unlike the ground squirrel with a sweet tooth that infiltrated a crate and made hay with our biscuits and rusks.
The campsite is unfenced, which added greatly to the sense of immersion and excitement. At dusk on our first night, a large herd of elephants crossed the area about 500 metres from where we sat. We were separated only by the shallow wetland and grassy islands that constituted our view. They certainly added fizz to our G&Ts, not least because of the irritable trumpeting of a young bull letting off steam. That night Martin whipped up crêpes Suzette, the glow of the flambéed Grand Marnier casting an unexpected light over the gathering. If anything distinguished this safari, it was the scope and ambition of the cooks.
Again the birdlife was abundant, with our tally including arrow-marked babblers (which invaded the camp en masse, babbling hoarsely), hornbills, coppery-tailed coucals, double-banded sand grouse, a spectacular crimson-breasted shrike and a cardinal woodpecker steadily concussing himself on a tree.
One of the highlights was the Livingstone Linyanti Museum in the settlement of Sangwali, just outside the reserve. It was established and curated by local resident Linus Mukwata. We’d arranged to meet him at the museum, essentially an airy single-room cottage, and he opened it up for us. Linus has an alternative tale to tell about the ill-fated Helmore-Price missionary expedition that travelled to Linyanti to meet Livingstone. His version is based on the oral history of the Makololo people – the main difference is that Helmore and his group did not die of fever, as the written record states, but were poisoned by euphorbia sap on the orders of the Makololo chief, who viewed their motives with suspicion.
A morning’s driving through the Zambezi Region, via Katima Mulilo, took us to the Ngoma border post, where we crossed back into Botswana and headed for Chobe National Park. It’s not called a floodplain for nothing, and at Ihaha Camp the river was encroaching over half our site, including the copse of shady trees that would normally be available. Our attempt to negotiate a switch to the adjacent – and unoccupied – campsite proved fruitless. We parked our chairs in the shade there anyway, at least during daylight hours. The official at the gate had nonchalantly warned us to drive to the ablution block at night because lions walked through there. (As it happened, we showered without any assistance from lions – but with no hot water or working lights.) Although only semi-functional, the ablution block was situated on a rise with unbeatable views of sunset over the river.
Chobe redeemed itself handsomely by laying on prolific herds of game. We saw the usual suspects both big and small, including huge herds of buffalo. The largest land predators we spotted were jackals – alas, no big cats or hyenas, but the frequency and number of sightings made up for that. We’d drive no more than 15 minutes at a stretch without coming across game.
Years ago I visited Epupa Falls on the Kunene River with an old school friend, Andrew Murray. Ever since, I’d yearned to see more of the Zambezi Region, and when Andrew organised this safari, I jumped at the chance. I’m extremely glad I did. It was arduous – total distance: just over 6 000 kilometres – with a three-day drive back to Cape Town. Yet the adventure was worth every kilo – those we drove and those we picked up!