Vijana Challenge 2014; or, 'Hooligans on Safari'

I'm half way up the 2nd hill - we've only just started, and it's clear that I just can't do it.  This is ridiculous!

Somehow I puff and pant my way to the top, and a lovely view opens up below: in the distance, the steep escarpment of the western wall of the Great Rift Valley; ahead the track swoops down to a broad plain, a patchwork quilt of maize and sugar cane fields; to the right glints Lake Babati, our destination for today, some 50 kms (30 miles) away.

1st Aid training - D on an improvised spine board... T is empathising

This is Part 2 of the Vijana Challenge (vijana = boys in kiSwahili) , a 3-week voyage of learning and adventure for my 4 young charges from Switzerland and Canada.  We have already completed a short bush mechanics course and an introduction to wilderness 1st Aid; yesterday evening, we hiked up to view the ancient rock art of Kolo in the caves and rocky overhangs that dot that part of the Rift.  We are just starting a 120-kms bike ride and the we are getting into our stride.  Our guide for this section is Julius, a lean young man with dreads and a great sense of fun.  For back up, we have Juma, a biking legend: he can fix anything on 2 wheels, under any circumstances.

Free wheeling downhill with the wind in my face, my early sense of despondency quickly wears off and I soon start to enjoy the ride.  This is easy!

Cycling through a village near Bereku

From now one. it's all fun: we pass through rural villages, where people smile and wave at the wazungu (white folk) on their bikes; through patches of airy forest, and through acres and acres of sugar cane.  At the end of the day, I spot my chance: on the slope leading up to camp, I stand up on the pedals and push hard, blasting past Julius and the 4 teenagers, who, not suspecting that the old fuddy duddy bringing up the rear has it in him, are completely taken by surprise.  (T will no doubt challenge this version, but in his heart he know's it's true.)

Camp is a lovely spot in a grove of tall fever trees right on the lakeshore; fishermen come and go and some cows graze peacefully nearby,  D and I go on a short bird walk, which yields fruit galore: highlights were a Purple Swamp-hen, a couple of hippo, a dik-dik and a Scarlet-chested Sunbird feeding above us.  And lots of waterbirds...

Next day we are, unsurprisingly, saddle-sore as we mount our trusty steeds once more.  We have a little over 60 kms ahead of us, but I have no doubt that I can manage.  Sure enough, we arrive in time for a late lunch at Magara Campsite, a pretty location on the edge of a sand river set about with big sycamore figs.  A short distance away are the Magara Falls, where we go for a wallow in the chilly water and to be pummelled by the full force of the main waterfall.  Hugely reinvigorating!

Afterwards, a young local boy, Musa, demonstrates his gymnastic abilities, with a series of somersaults and back flips in the sand.  D does his bit too, while M gives a karate demonstration.

Next morning, it's an early start: we're off to nearby Lake Manyara National Park.  We have the option of a full day in the park, or a half day followed by another bike ride.  The lads are unanimous: time for some seeeeeerious game viewing!

Almost immediately we are in the middle of a group of elephant, feeding peacefully in the forest in the new southern extension to the park.  Soon after, we emerge onto the lakeshore, where herds of wildebeest and zebra wander, with warthog and impala dotted around.  As we approach the Maji Moto hippo pool, we come across throngs of water birds: storks, herons, ibis  - and thousands upon thousands of pelicans.  They are everywhere, swimming in vast flotillas, sailing majestically overhead, squabbling in the trees.  Can there really be enough fish in the rapidly dwindling lake to support this many birds?  The answer is clearly yes, but surely not for long?

Next morning, it's time to move on.  We say goodbye to Julius and the crew and head off with our new best friend & guide, Kilerai; we will spend the next few days with the Hadzabe, some of Tanzania's last hunter-gatherers, who somehow make a living from the harsh, jutting landscape of rock and thornbush around Mongo wa Mono and Yaeda Chini. It's an austere place, especially in the dry season, as now: the colour seems to have bled out of the world, leaving a palette of ochre, olive and grey.  It is strangely beautiful.

One of the Hadza women has spotted a herd of elephant in the distance

The next couple of days pass in a blur of wonderful times spent with the Hadza; a morning spent with the women as they dug up edible yam-like tubers; finding honey in a beehive high in a baobab tree; making arrows, Hadza-style; hiking across the Yaeda Valley; and heading out at dawn each morning on hunting expeditions, each boy accompanying a Hadza hunter.  Each day is packed with fascinating incidents on their treks

through the bush, covering many miles on each outing.  One day, Jenerali notices that a nearby marula tree is fruiting and that many animals - kudu, bushpig, duiker - are visiting each night to hoover up the fallen fruit.  After a brief discussion, we all set out to build a blind 20m from the tree and the boys wait up to try their luck.  It is a beautiful full moon night.  Towards morning, the clatter of a displaced pebble alerts them - there in the silvery light stands a herd of Greater Kudu; they are wary, their delicate ears twitching back and forth, searching for threats.  They sense that something is wrong and they melt into the night once more.

All too soon, this part of the adventure draws to a close, and we have to say goodbye to our Hadza friends.

The final leg takes us to Tarangire for more big game; this park is excellent in the dry season, with large numbers of game dependent on the permanent water sources - the Tarangire River, Silale Swamp - now that the rest of the ecosystem has dried up.  Elephant and large buffalo herds are everywhere and each night we are treated to a lion chorus as the different groups roar to each other.  D is on a wild dog mission - there have been some reports of late, so we check out all the best places, but no joy.  No luck either with oryx, but we score with lesser kudu, terrific cheetah and leopard sightings as well as some memorable views of lion.

Ndutu in the green...

It's been very wet, with trucks getting stuck and the gulleys full of water. But the sun has been blazing for the last 5 days, a strong easterly wind has been blowing and the plains are drying fast.  There is a haze of dust in the air, the sky bleached to the palest blue. Long lines of wildebeest are trudging across the plain, heading west in search of water. But it won't be long now before the rains break, the grass greens up again and the plains will be dotted once more with animals as far as the eye can see.

We're in the woodland, photographing a Woodland Kingfisher, gorgeous in aquamarine and black and a long red bill. In the crotch of an umbrella acacia, a smear of russet. In my binoculars, the image resolves itself - a leopard sprawled on a branch, paws dangling languidly. It is a large male, but shy. As we try to approach, he fixes pale green eyes on us and then comes down from his perch in one fluid motion. 

In a gulley lie three lionesses, flat on their backs, paws in the air, utterly oblivious to us a few metres away.  A herd of wildebeest and zebra approaches, feeding in the dense grass along the valley bottom. The lions aren't hungry - sleek bellies show they've fed recently - but one of them gets into position, a perfect ambush. One by one the zebra move past at a safe distance, unaware of the danger lurking nearby. A wildebeest wanders closer, head down and munching. There is a bush obscuring his vision and the lioness uses the chance to move, closing the gap to about 12 metres. She crouches, then charges forward, a tawny blur. The wildebeest swings around and runs - straight at her. This isn't in the script and she turns tail and flees. The moment is gone, her chance blown. She wanders back to her friends and settles down once more to sleep

Out on the plains, the cheetah are doing well. We find 2 mothers, one with 5 tiny cubs, less than 2 months old, the other with 3 well-grown youngsters in tow.

These young cats are very playful and are intrigued by the car. They try chewing on various bits of it, then one jumps up on the bonnet and peers at us, amber eyed, through the windscreen.

We watch a fascinating interaction when another cheetah moves purposefully towards them. Is he interested in the mother, or possibly a threat to the cubs? It turns out to be a young male, maybe a litter mate that got separated from them, or possibly one recently  turned out by his mother and is feeling confused and lonely. There are some tense moments when they all meet, with growling and flattened ears, but no violence, and eventually the family continues with the hunt, leaving the newcomer alone once more.

It's our last morning. We make our way slowly along shore of lake Ndutu. There are hundreds of baby wildebeest carcasses on the waterline - a herd has crossed the lake, and the babies, some no more than a week or 2 old, became exhausted struggling in the mud. A disreputable looking marabou stork  picks at a carcass in a bored way.

At the end of the lake, a crossing! But not your standard crossing, with hundreds of wildebeest flailing through the mud - instead, a family of banded mongoose runs to the water's edge. They are nervous, some of them standing up on their hind legs to scout for danger. Eventually, one trots into the water and they all follow, bounding through the shallows like tiny otters. Is this the first recorded mongoose crossing?

Skeleton Coast Safari

NamibRand landscape

 Namibia.  So familiar, yet so utterly different.  As we drive into Windhoek from the airport, we could be in Maasailand: the same scrubby, thorny vegetation, the same low, dry hills.  But the city is immaculate, the traffic runs like clockwork - all very unTanzanian!

We head out to the NamibRand Nature Reserve, an area of huge views, stunning sand dunes and unexpected wildlife.  Easiest to see are the oryx and zebra: the oryx in particular have a wonderful habit of standing on top of the dunes to catch the sea breeze and cool off.

Oryx catching the breeze

Oryx bulls fighting

But we are soon captivated by the tiny stuff: Toktokkies, Dancing White Ladies, Barking Geckoes and Armoured Crickets.  (The first 2, by the way, are Tenebrid Beetles and a very cool Trapdoor Spider… while the gecko and cricket just stepped out of a sci-fi blockbuster).

Dancing White Lady (Trapdoor Spider)

Armoured Cricket

All around us, tracks tell a story about the denizens of the dunes: Cape Cobras and Golden Moles appear to dive and 'swim' through the sand from time to time; once we see where a cheetah has passed by.

But the real treat is yet to come: one day, a small Cessna buzzes out of the blue and taxis to a halt on the small bush strip. Out gets Andre, a soft-spoken man with twinkling eyes in his weather-beaten face, our pilot, guide and host for the next 3 days.  Without mucking about, we are soon taxiing out again and we set off on our adventure.

Bliss.

We buzz the giant dunes at Sossusvlei, then fly west over an ocean of smaller dunes, the wave-like forms marching to the horizon.  Then to the Atlantic coast, where we spot seals and (once) a pod of dolphins and circle over a shipwreck half submerged in wind-blown sand.

Flying flamingos

Shipwreck

Salt works

First sight of the Atlantic!

We land on a shingle beach: Andre produces a picnic, simple but delicious, which we eat with our fingers.  Then we're off again, landing this time in a canyon, where we see Bushman artefacts and strange rock formations.

Bushman art

Later, we float over an enormous landscape, range after range of weirdly sculpted hills and ridges.  The sun is sinking towards the western horizon by now, so the drama of the scenery is amplified by huge shadows.

Alpha Alpha Charlie's shadow as we land at sunset

Oryx standing on his shadow

Tectonics, Namibia style

We sleep that night in a simple bush camp overlooking a huge stretch of desert.

In the morning, we head out on a short drive looking for desert lions. We find instead a dodgy-looking desert lion researcher and his even dodgier-looking vehicle. This turns out to be the legendary Dr Philip Stander, who tells us a little about his project over lunch. (One male lion recently walked 90 kms overnight, an unheard-of feat of endurance in our East African lions.  He then proceeded to cover 75-80 kms on the 2 following nights!)

Reluctantly we take leave of the Good Doctor, climb back into Alpha Alpha Foxtrot and set off once more.  When we land, there is a totally clapped-out looking land rover, all rust and bulging tyres, parked by a shed.  This turns out to be out trusty steed.  Low pressure tyres mean that we float on top of the sand rather than ploughing through it, as we swoop and glide through the endless dunescape.  It is a magical ride: we lie flat to peer through a magnifying lens at the sand, which turns out to be a jewellery-box of garnet, quartz and other gorgeous crystals.  We surf down the face of a dune on our bottoms, setting off a slo-mo landslide, the flowing sand moaning like an orchestra of didgeridoos.

Sliding down a sand dune

Jewellery-box sand dune

It is a day of huge fun - we all revert to childhood, howling with the sheer pleasure of it all.

There are many ore spectacular moments: the desert ellies in a gorge; the rhinos spotted from the air, the stall warning squealing as Andre banks hard overhead; but nothing else quite matches up to the fun we had in the dunes that day.