Pick a camp on the banks of the Zambezi
The section of Zambezi River between Sesheke and Livingstone in Zambia can easily be added to a tour of northern Botswana and the Zambezi Region in Namibia. You’ll visit some great camps where you can watch birds and catch tiger fish – and see Vic Falls.
The white-browed robin-chats are competing to see who can sing the loudest. A swamp boubou hops along the water’s edge looking for a nibble. I’m on a side channel of the Zambezi; the main river course is on the other side of an island where cattle graze with egrets riding on their backs. Boats are anchored in the shallows, where hundreds of small fish dart around – some three-spotted tilapia, some redbreast tilapia. A fisherman bundles a wet net into a mokoro, a rooster crows and lodge manager Dave Orr sits on the stoep of Shackletons Tiger Fishing Lodge with a book in his lap – Brother Fish by Bryce Courtenay. The book is rubbish, Dave agrees, but he doesn’t have much of a choice. The closest Exclusive Books is probably in Joburg. Last night I was the only guest at Shackletons. Most guests fly in from South Africa, landing at Livingstone – from there you’re transferred by road to the camp, about 140 km away. Dave told me there are three guests en route, so he’s waiting it out with Brother Fish, two cellphones, a cup of coffee and a red plastic fly swatter by his side. But mostly his gaze is lifted from the table, looking out at the beautiful waters of the Zambezi, where uncaught fish await.
Wait, and you’ll be rewarded
I did a lot of waiting today. I entered Zambia from Namibia, leaving Katima Mulilo just after breakfast. It’s easy enough to leave Namibia – a stamp later and I was off – but the Zambian side of the border was another story. It’s actually a nice border post with a logical layout – all the counters you have to visit are in one room so you can easily move from one point to the next. But this is easier said than done…
First, I exchanged US dollars for Zambian kwacha because I knew that some of the fees must be paid in kwacha; others in dollars. A guy called Costa was the lucky recipient of my business, and I made sure he didn’t do me in too badly. (I only noticed the ATM at the border post later, so I didn’t really need Costa to get kwacha. You can withdraw local currency with your South African bank card, if the ATM is working of course.)
Everything went smoothly until I got to the window where I had to buy a temporary import permit for my vehicle. I recognised the man behind the counter – I had passed through this border post two years ago and had dealt with the same official. Why did I remember his face so well? Well, after 45 minutes of staring at him, I finally received my documentation. I probably had to look at him for that long on my previous visit, too.
It wasn’t the poor man’s fault – apparently the computer system is slow. (The same process is completed in about three minutes when you enter Namibia.)
Once I was through the border post, I crossed a bridge over the Zambezi. It felt good to be back in Zambia. This is where South Africa starts to feel distant. You’re one step further away than just being in a neighbouring country. Crossing the Zambezi makes your mind wander. You start thinking ‘what if?’ What if I kept driving northwards? Further? Not this time, I reminded myself. Not this time.
I drove through Sesheke – a busy village full of vegetable stalls and shops that saw their heyday decades ago, which is also okay because “heyday” is a relative concept.
To hook a tiger
The road between Sesheke and Kazungula was not great. No, I’m being kind: It was epically bad. I was expecting the worst and was surprised by the first 45 km, where sections had been worked on. But then the potholes appeared and I had to slow down to 25 km/h to crawl through the craters.
Finally, I spotted the sign to Shackletons Tiger Fishing Lodge. The Renault Duster was relieved to leave the “tar” behind and follow the sandy road to the river.
When I arrived, I was greeted by Dave, owner Howard Shackleton and my fishing guide for the day, Obed Mukuni. I’ve always wanted to catch a tiger fish and Shackletons is the place to do it along this stretch of the Zambezi. It’s a wellmaintained, exclusive camp – usually a group will book the whole camp for a few nights. They made a concession for me to visit on my own. It’s off-peak season, November, and corrugated-iron-in-the-sun hot.
After a few toasted cheese-and-tomato sandwiches, I was ready to hit the river. On the water, with a breeze in my beard, it was considerably cooler. Obed steered our boat downstream. The river was at its lowest level for the year. Soon rains higher up in Zambia and Angola would raise the water level. Obed weaved the boat around reed islands, tree trunks and sandbars. You know your local mall – Obed knows his local patch of Zambezi the same way. We joined up with the main course of the river and followed it in the direction of the town of Mwandi. On the opposite bank in Namibia,
a cellphone tower jutted up from where I know the town of Schuckmannsburg stands. (I’ve been there before: There’s cold beer and a big tree where you can sit in the shade and listen to music pulsing from a well-used speaker.)
This part of the river is much quieter than the section between Kazungula and Livingstone as far as tourism is concerned. What you do here is catch tiger fish – as I did, pulling my first one from the water a few minutes later! It was a stroke of luck, and all down to Obed’s expertise, but I have the photo to prove it.
After that I just smiled at the silver water, drank a Mosi Lager and smiled some more.
From muddy pools to gorges
The next day I travelled towards Livingstone. I drove on the verge for long stretches because the road is under construction. Maybe you’ll be lucky and the road will be in tiptop shape when you visit, and you won’t have to splash through muddy pools and squint into the dust trail of a truck.
Near Kazungula, the road improved and I sailed to Livingstone at a fair pace. I had booked accommodation at a place called Jungle Junction, on an island in the Zambezi about 40 km upstream from Livingstone, but sadly I never made it there. After 8 km on the access road to the lodge (first sand, then more muddy pools), I turned the 4x2 Duster around, scared of getting stuck and becoming vulture food. It wasn’t a problem: There are lots of other good places to stay closer to Livingstone. I stayed at Kubu Camp for one night, and then at Camp Nkwazi next door. The chalets at Kubu were under (re)construction (some are now available for bookings again), but the location of the campsite is first class and caretaker Kebby Mutemwa made me feel at home.
The stands are right on the Zambezi, on grass and under big trees. I was the only camper at first, but Alta and Bill Naudé from George arrived late in the afternoon. They were travelling back to South Africa after a visit to Kasanka National Park in northern Zambia. I always enjoy talking to go! readers about their travels, especially in a campsite as scenic as the one at Kubu. It felt like we were in paradise – a paradise filled with birds, greenery and the peaceful presence of the river.
The gardens around the chalets at Camp Nkwazi, managed by Salomé and Gawie Botha, are reason enough to visit. Their campsite is further away from the river, but the stands are great and there are big trees and spacious ablution facilities. I popped up my tent under one of the biggest mopane trees I’d ever seen, and settled in – it was time to do some laundry. I stayed at Camp Nkwazi for two nights, driving to Livingstone to hang out in the mall – Mosi-oa-Tunya Square – which has a pharmacy and a big Shoprite. Kubu Café is next to the latter: I sat down and ordered a cappuccino and, randomly, spring rolls. When you’re on the road for a long time, your palate sometimes craves something different…
I also checked out some lodges I hadn’t visited before. Taita Falcon Lodge stood out: It’s downstream from Livingstone, and Vic Falls, on the edge of Batoka Gorge. The river has a different character below the waterfall. Above, at places like Kubu Camp and Camp Nkwazi, the river spreads out wide and flows slowly. But at Taita it’s white-water country – you can hear the water rushing down below, the sound hissing up the steep cliffs.
Indeed, this part of the Zambezi in Zambia has such great variety. You get a more rural feel between Sesheke and Kazungula, where you can see how people have lived next to the river for centuries; you can even watch people use traditional fish traps called matumba.
Closer to Livingstone, you can enjoy the comfort of places like Camp Nkwazi (or even more luxurious places) and you can find all the shops and eateries you’ll ever need. Animals are easy to see in the adjacent Victoria Falls National Park, and you can go on a river cruise at most lodges.
Of course, you must go see the falls themselves. Visiting Livingstone and not going to Victoria Falls would be like holidaying in Cairo but giving the pyramids a skip.
On my final evening in Zambia, I booked a sunset cruise at Camp Nkwazi. There are few African travel pleasures greater than this: sitting back in a chair with a camera on your lap and a beer in your hand and the anticipation of what’s to come.
My eyes scanned across the water for known protrusions: the ragged lines of a croc’s back, or the round muffin-ears of a hippo. They flicked along the shoreline for birds, small to diminutive. They moved in and out of the bush floating past, hoping to see a buck, an ellie, anything – we were looking at the Zim side of the river where the Zambezi National Park lay. Animals and birds came and went, and the banter of the other – foreign – tourists reminded me of how lucky I was to have this on my doorstep.
By sunset we paused to watch baboons play up and down a long vine, like double bassists fooling around with just one string. Like them, I live here in Africa, and I thanked my lucky stars.