Cats on Safari – Safari Ngema to Nairobi

Princess Anushka refused to re-pose her Pride Rock appearance for the camera, remaining about half way up that mountainous rock

Another pre-dawn start, today’s target is Babati about 400kms away. On the slow Tanzania roads, that’s bound to take 8 to 10 hours. The rain wore itself out last night and for the first time, we are rewarded with an exquisite sunrise rather than gloom. A treat worthy of a photo moment!

There was a second surprise in store – the new highway has been completed and the road is excellent, clearly marked with lines, speed limits and delimitations and for the first time we can rest our hawk eyes and follow the law in peace. We fairly roared along making excellent time, Dodoma flashed past and the first of 3 possible campsites (couldn’t find anything on the internet, were going by our 10 year old African Adventure Atlas) loomed. Well, it would have if it still existed, there was simply no trace of it Kondoa, nor the second site in Kola. We did see a sign for some rock paintings, apparently a Tanzanian Heritage Site but after tracking that down, it appeared the officials granting access were not available, so we pressed on to Babati.

The afternoon was getting darker and gloomier by the kilometer and HO suggested, as we passed a local ‘lodge’ that perhaps we should consider that for the night. One U-turn later, we parked at Faraja Super Self Contained Guest House, complete with a gnome of a host, super excited himself to have mzungu guests.

The Tuskers had barely exited the fridge when the heavens opened and we were stranded in the bar. An overnight in this establishment it shall be, then. No food, apparently, we’ll have to eat in the village. May we see our room (Tembu, meaning Elephant, as we had the luxury suite)? Shown to a spacious room with two couches, a coffee table, kingsize bed with mozzie net, tv in a cage and two tiny rooms (choo and bafu) we agreed to the price of Tsh 10 000 (about ZAR 180) and retired back to the bar for more Tusker and some photographic experimenting capturing rain.

What a difference 10 minutes makes! Eventually the bike's tyres were underwater

It was only later, much later, that we realised the choo was Asian (yes, hole in the floor) and the bafu was a telephone booth with a large bucket of water and a jug for pouring same over your head. There was only one lightbulb in the room and HO began to grumble. “It’s New Year’s Eve, lets go into the village for some local food” I brightly suggest. Donning mud proof shoes, we lock the reluctant cats in the room. Of all the places we’d stayed and the changing enivronments they’ve endured, this was one step too deep into the far side for them and they were on an unflinching mission to escape.

The village extended about a kilometre along the main road but restaurants, there were none. Seeing some activity next to a shop, we pulled over and asked what they sold there. Books and pens, but yes, we could buy food from the vendor just in front of the shop, busily frying chips and grilling ‘cow meat’ kebabs over charcoal. We watched in fascination as the roomful of potatoes was steadily reduced to peeled and cut chips, then fried in oil and put in a plastic bowl, stored for the next order. The ‘chip’ part of our chips and cow meat kebab order turned out to be a chip omelet – simply crack 2 eggs into a bowl, beat, add into the mini frying pan with the chips, allow to set then dish up. Delicious, I might add, but hardly the  stuff of New Year’s Eve dreams. However, as a memory, this is one for the books.

Unsurprisingly, we were early risers on New Year’s Day and followed the cats escape bid into Henry, bidding what we thought to be Babati farewell. At the hamlet’s edge, we saw the delimitation sign, bidding Bonga adieu. We’d fallen short of the much larger Babati town by 15kms!!

Keen for hot showers and to reach Hobbit House, when we realised we were in easy striking distance of Nairobi we carried on through Arusha straight to the border. This part of the journey was an emotional one for me, as Arusha was the gateway to my Serengeti dream of 5 years ago. At that stage, I had no idea when I left Tanzania after a fabulous safari that we’d ever return, let alone be living, in East Africa. Travelling past Lake Manyara, Arusha airport, the Tanzanite shop and where we’d bought our load of Tuskers for the journey to the Serengeti caused a tumult of happy, almost disbelieving emotions. How strange and wonderful life is, how lucky are we to be able to dip our toes into unknown adventures and, so far, emerge from various challenges a little battered but unscathed.

Our roadtrip came to an end far too soon, and we can’t wait to do another. It was amazing, though, to immediately feel at home as soon as we’d crossed into Kenya. This African jewel has become our nest very quickly, in no small part because of the unfettered welcome from every Kenyan we meet. Karibu Kenya.

Cats on Safari Part 7 - Zambia to Tanzania

The 4h30 peeping of the alarm is by now familiar but we didn’t hop as quickly out of bed this morning. Fatigue and a diet high in carbs and low in fresh veggies is beginning to make itself felt. Once we slow the mad dash to get to Tanzania, hopefully we’ll spend a few days in one spot and visit a market.

Well named lodge, the mango tree was groaning

Local East African hotels usually provide a pair of 'shower slops', in odd colours. I guess to prevent greedy guests?

As our time in Mpika is limited and we are still 373kms from the Tanzania border, we’re unable to go hunting for Shiwa Ngandu, Stuart Gore-Brown’s grand old house which is apparently in the area. Him Outdoors, now in a headlock, has no choice but to faithfully pinkie promise to return on this route. We are passing too much without stopping, this is not at all what a roadtrip should be.

Zambia is mile after mile of tarred roads with little traffic except heavy transport trucks by the hundred. We have seen two of them twisted on the road this morning, overturned onto their sides. The drivers have set up tarpaulin tents under the trees and are guarding their vehicles, awaiting rescue.

Today for the first time in Zambia we see PV panels on huts and shops. Roadside provisions along the way include giant mushrooms, mangoes, live goats and chickens and bag after bag of charcoal, which explains why the bush is much thinner along this stretch.

We made excellent time, the roads in Zambia are very good and despite the regular roadblocks (police, army, immigration, local council) we don’t run into any delays so decide to push through the border. George, owner of Kings Highway accommodation in Nakonde, where we’d thought we’d spend the night, recommended a campsite on a coffee farm near Mbeya, Tanzania, saying we had plenty of time to cross the border and cover the 90kms so on we cracked.

The Zam/Tan border wasn’t as frustrating as the Bots/Zam one, but still, an inspector had to check that Henry WAS a camper, not a panel van (Him Outdoors raced ahead of said Inspector to give me a few seconds warning to hide the cats.) Fortunately, Speckle had repaired to her hiding place in the narrow gap beneath the bed and a large plastic container and Anushka, who’d entertained the crowds by standing on the driver’s seat, pressing her nose to the window and watching the border activity with intense interest, had settled on my lap so a cardigan and a towel were hastily draped over her and a very smiley passenger popped her head out of the window and used her best Swahili on the gloomy Inspector.

That hurdle past, we still had to clear the police barrier and, curious about the house in the van, the cops were hell bent on checking the interior out. Not what we needed, especially as I’d just shooed A into the back and I had no idea whether she was undercover or not. Fortunately, she was, as spending another 2 hours clearing livestock through the Agricultural Department in the rapidly heating day had no appeal for us.

Roads in Tananzia – the speedlimit is 50km/h. Every few hundred metres in the endless towns along the route had pedestrian crossings, which EVERY vehicle had to stop at, regardless of whether anyone was crossing or not. Slow trucks, weighstations overflowing back onto the narrow road, snarling all traffic and more police road blocks proved what we’d been told – travel in Tanzania is WAY slower than you could possibly imagine.

Tanzania road scenes

 

We missed the turn off to Utengule Coffee Farm (apparently, they had to take their sign down as the main road is to be widened, sometime in the next 10 years or so!) and ended up in Mbeya town itself. We stopped at a beer garden and offloaded the cats for a paw stretch. Anushka needed no invitation and a passerby was so amused he called the owner of the beer garden out to see this cat on a leash. 

Speckle had to be forcibly removed from her hidey hole and lay in HO’s lap for some time, trembling like a leaf. No amount of persuasion could get either of them to drink the water provided but Madame A gave the garden a thorough inspection, greeted the guests and generally entertained the patrons. We’d been very surprised by the positive reaction to cats the Zambians had – whenever they showed themselves, even at road blocks or toll gates, let alone when out of the van, we were asked if we could give one or the other away. Anushka blossomed under the attention, taking it as her due homage. Speckle turned herself inside out to avoid people. Such is life!

Fortunately, one of the patrons knew the coffee farm and directed us back 11kms, with a further 9 kilometres on a challenging, muddy road but Utengule was well worth the search. The coffee farm has been growing Arabica beans for over 100 years and has a delightful guesthouse. On a lower terrace, complete with a helipad, is the campsite. We, along with Christel and Ruan from Stellenbosch, are the only occupants. Ruan has been working in Mombasa for a year and is returning home via a lengthy road trip. Christel flew up from Cape Town to drive home with him. They gave us really helpful info re our next overnight stop at Iringa, and the acceptable ‘fine’ to pay to local cops, and were looking forward to driving their Toyota double cab at a speed higher than 50km/h. Going somewhere slowly seems to be the rule of the road here.

We’re spending 2 nights here and taking a rest day today, enjoying the chance to clean up and repack Henry, do some washing, read our books, blog, sleep late and prepare for another long day tomorrow. It’s 400kms to Iringa at 50km/h, so it’ll take a while. After Iringa we’ll pass through Dodoma and get as far as we can for another night’s camp, then it’ll be Arusha for a longer stop. If Riverside Campsite is as lovely as Ruan and Christel have vouched, we may stay 2 nights there.

Anushka, trailing her reflective leash, has inspected most of the grounds and spent some time checking out the interior of Ruan’s doublecab. She then curled up on a camp chair to catch up on her beauty sleep, accepted the strokes and worship of two little girls who HO swore to secrecy (no pets at this lodge!) A while later, the girls’ father arrived, announcing himself as the cat inspector! Speckle removed herself early when we began emptying Henry and hasn’t been seen since but she will definitely not sleep outside so we expect her to reappear at bedtime.

Therefore, in a few minutes we’ll be enjoying the swimming pool and in due course relish an icy sundowner on the terrace with a magnificent view of the mountains and sunset.

Kwaheri for now from Tanzania.

Cats on Safari Chapter 4 - A Magical Veil Over Christmas

Maramba River Lodge at Victoria Falls was just the stop we all needed after a few hectic weeks and so we decided to spend three nights here, which would mean an early start on Christmas Day to reach Lusaka, 500kms away. The cats saw the gap and headed into the bush, settling down in the damp shade and if not for their reflective leashes, would have disappeared into the greenery without trace. We used the WiFi access to catch up on correspondence, swam, watched the hippos and relaxed. The Victorian train ride across the Zambezi was investigated and discarded – travelling on ZAR regrettably puts many exciting activities out of financial reach.

 On Christmas Eve we moved 20 metres away to an adjacent site right on the river bank. To our astonishment, within minutes a groundsman arrived to toss a large rock into the water – chasing away the resident crocodile who only 3 weeks before had taken out a fisherman in that very spot. We can’t say we weren’t warned – the site had a sign cautioning about wild animals!

Our sundowners later were disturbed by a gruff hippo call just below us, so close we instinctively rose to our feet and looked for cover. The splash reassured us they were still in the water.

As the afternoon heat receded, it was time to visit the Falls so we hopped into Henry. Mosi-Oa-Tunya, the smoke that thunders, is simply breathtaking: a magical place of rainbows and water sprinkling sunkissed skin and layering our hair with silver beads. The towering cliffs are covered with bridal veils, white as ice, formed by millions of tonnes of water jettisoning over the rocks. The experience is so awe-inspiring, I don’t think that I’ll ever tire of it and hope that one day we’ll pass this way again.

Dragging ourselves reluctantly away as the gates closed, we headed back to base. Christmas Eve is traditionally our family Christmas Meal with all the pomp and tradition imaginable. Camping or not, home or away, we don’t miss this ever. There was a forced menu change, thanks to that monster baboon. I’d left the Christmas pud baking in the sun while we were out but that bloody ape trespassed and sampled the goods. Apparently it wasn’t to his taste, so he ripped it to pieces and spread it around the camp, ensuring that no-one else could enjoy it! Mince pies and custard for dessert it is, then. The table was laid, strewn with Lindor choccies (thanks Keith and Maria!) and the microwave and gas stove set to work. Even in the wilds, we have our comforts – a fridge to chill champagne and make ice are travel essentials.

Our Christmas meal is also a time of reflection and gratitude, and this year our family has much to be appreciative of and grateful for. The traditional toast to absent loved ones was longer than usual as well at our little riverbank table set for two.

Seasons greetings to you all.

Cats on Safari Chapter 8 - To Iringa We Go

Eish, the early morning wake up call begins again! There was a tremendous storm last evening which destroyed our fancy new gazebo – two poles are now bent and snapped. Him Outdoors posed for a photo which is sure to melt the heart of Game SA, when we write a strongly worded letter about the expensive product which lasted 3 nights. There is a branch of Game in Nairobi so we think we can obtain a refund or exchange.

Henry wrapped and packed, cats secured and on board, we are off, mindful of the many warnings about travelling in Tanzania. It’s slow. Very, very S L O W. They don’t have the endless checkpoints of Zambia, but the speed limit in ‘settlement areas’ is 50km/h, at times and where the roadworks are, dropping to 30km/h. About 90% of the 400kms from Mbeya to Iringa is ‘settlement’ with the balance being construction of the new highway. Where the new highway is complete, we are allowed to drive on what looks wide, level and straight enough to land a Boeing. It screams to unleash the horses below Henry’s bonnet but no, 50km/h it is.

This is a good time to mention the efficient Tanzanian traffic speed policing, a remarkable merger between state of the art technology and good old, rustic African officialdom. Here is the overview: at some point, vehicles will pass an officer wielding some type of speed measurement device. We can’t describe it as we didn’t see a single one, just suffered the effects at points 2 and 3. If a vehicle is clocked in excess of 50kms, a photo + the speed is WhatsApp’d to a police check point some way down the road. These cops pull the offender over. If the offender doesn’t stop, he is grabbed at another checkpoint several kilometers further on. Waved to a halt, the officer asks for your license and requests that you pull over and park. He then shows you the photo on his smartphone and you are taken along to where another 2 officers are sitting on a hand carved bench under a tree, writing out the fines and accepting your cash. These points are all placed outside police stations, so any trouble, you are marched directly into the station and presumably locked up if necessary. No desk, no admin, just a simple carbon copy book, a cash box and a rustic bench. Job done. HO was nabbed twice within the first hour of leaving Ntengule Coffee Farm. The first time, 73km in a 50km zone, the second 83km.  Same fine (seems to be a set amount for all speeds) – Tsh30 000, about R180. 

Considering that 30km/h over the limit in SA would see him jailed, this is quite reasonable. Except we’d filled Henry’s tummy with diesel and had Tsh20 000 on hand. Give the officers their due, they were not tempted by the lollipops or pleas to issue a warning or reduce the fine. Explaining at the first stop that we were TSH10 000 short and on our way to an ATM, he helpfully suggested we turn back as Mbeya was 20kms behind us whereas the next ATM was 70kms ahead! Kenyan shilllings were accepted to make up the balance and we finally put that behind us. Within a short distance, closely following a big truck (you know, stick to the locals) we were a bit confused by an officer waving halt to both the truck and ourselves. The truck pulled off and we assumed he was the target. Driving carefully, about 10kms later another officer sternly stood in our path. Same drill, HO marched across to the bench to look at the photo then came steaming back – both we and the truck had been bust. This time took longer because to their great excitement, the police check pulled over two Malawians driving under the influence and, as we were empty of Tsh, negotiating foreign currency took a while.

Thereafter, it was hawk eyes for the rest of the lengthy journey watching for barely visible speed signs and erring on the side of caution. Ten hours to travel 400kms. And we still haven’t seen the actual speed device, although we sailed through another 8 or so roadblocks.

The Saffers we’d met at Ntengule recommended Riverside Valley campsite in Iringa, reached by a challenging road (rather slippery after the rain) but we are glad we took their advice. The campsite to ourselves, a lovely thatched stone and glass rondavel to cook in and right on the riverbank. Speckle and Anushka have explored to their heart’s content and I wish I’d had my camera at hand when A did a Pride Rock scene from the Lion King, but in any case I was too frightened she’d fall off straight into the river.

We’ve made good time, it’s another 2 days to Arusha and from there 1 day to Nairobi so we’ll rest here for a day then have an early start for what may be our first self-sufficient roadside stop, as we can’t seem to find anything between Dodoma and Arusha.

The rain has knocked out comms since we left Zambia and our Tanzanian data isn’t working (may be operator error – we have 5 different sim cards in 2 phones, both of which are smarter than HO and I! It is a bit frustrating not to be able to respond to people or to loadup the blogs timeously but not too serious really. In fact, it’s rather amusing to be in the same communication spot of 19^th century East African travellers. We are keen to get to Arusha and hopefully the big city will oblige with WiFi. They were keen to reach the Thorn Tree in Nairobi to pick up their mail. Different media, different times, same problem. But what a treat to look forward to, getting back in touch and catching up on all of the news from home.

Cats on Safari Chapter 6 - Nkosi Sikelel’ iAfrika

Him Outdoors was still on his mission to klap the kilometres, muttering that the time we saved here could be spent in Arusha so yet another 4h30 wake up call on Boxing Day. Dab hands we are, within minutes we were packed, flask filled and ready to go. Except – one cat short.

“We have to review our cat departure procedure,” HO announced. “This is now a big game for them.” We found Speckle eventually, curled as tightly as she could under the curtain in a dark corner behind the dressing table. Gotcha!

A good cup of coffee on the go gave us the chatters and we were so busy debating the lack of personal life of the famous and intrusion of the public and paparazzi into every minute of their day (I know, right, but it was 5h12 and we were on our 2^nd cups of strong Jacobs!) that we missed the turn towards Mpika, today’s destination. A fairly bright braincell tugged the alarm when I noticed Ndola Road School.  Ndola? The wrong toll road, surely?  Pulling off at a roadside market, we made enquiries. Indeed, several kilometers past the turn, it appeared. Henry did a U-turn (very rare) and we motored back the way we’d come. It’s a pity we had little time to linger as the veggies in the market were magnificent, beautifully piled and arranged in a medley of colour and shape.

The excellent road droned away beneath Henry’s tyres and the lush, fertile landscape rolled past. Occasionally we passed pedestrians, all of whom, no matter their age or gender, carrying a heavy hoe. Little boys swung theirs enthusiastically at weeds as they lagged behind their parents. Sometimes a woman, holding a chicken by the legs, brandished it at us, a kind of very fresh, still feathered KFC drivethru. Once, a child pushed his reluctant goat onto the tarmac, indicating that if red meat was on our shopping list, to look no further.

We were way out in the sticks about 2 hours later when HO mentioned that diesel would be a good idea if we saw a garage. On a scale of 0 – 10, 0 being no worries at all and 10 being a dead stop, he rated us a 7, with no  clue where, on the 87km stretch of road between the last village and Mpika, we were. We were giving two chaps on their way to church a lift, although unfortunately, they had little English and even less idea of distance measured in kilometres but still, Defcon 7. Concerned but no panic. This just as we’d noted Livingstone’s Memorial on the map, off to the left somewhere but not enough fuel to risk it. 

So close but still too far to visit what was sure to be a fascinating monument.

Uh oh, the light appeared within a few minutes of this, as we crested a rise in the road and saw a petrol tanker stopped a few metres ahead. Pulling alongside, I asked if we could buy some diesel from him. To our utter astonishment, and after a negotiation led by our two hitchers, he agreed to sell 20l to us. We pulled over, he filled a container and produced a hose, we cut a water bottle funnel with a supersharp, credit card knife HO got for his birthday and, with the assistance of our passengers, Henry was resuscitated and we were off on our way again.

The cats disappeared under the bed the minute 2 strangers climbed in to share their ride, reappearing only when we stopped at Mango Grove Lodge in Mpika. They missed their first roadside assist!

It is completely inexplicable to us how time and time again when travelling various lonely roads, our vehicle emergencies are dealt with in the most extraordinary circumstances. Nkosi sikelel' iAfrika.

                                                                                                                                                              

Cats on Safari Chapter 5 - Happy Christmas, North We Go!

We woke up at 4h30 for our early start – we’d designated Christmas Day as a pre-dawn takeoff and a lengthy stretch to Lusaka and beyond if possible. Him Outdoors was impatient to get more traction on the route and as the cats had been uncomfortably hot on the sweltering journey so far, the plan was to travel as far as possible as early as possible and rest up for the rest of the day. The aircon fan belt stretching to screeching point was of concern to HO, who preferred to use it as little as possible. If that snapped, a bunch of things under Henry’s weeny bonnet were likely to cave in as well, so it wasn’t only the felines who glowed, although they sulked when tossed off my lap. I was perfectly overheated enough without donning a fur lapblanket.

Yikes – a late night thunderstorm had marooned Henry on a muddy island, and our campervan was now a houseboat. Squelch, squelch we went, disconnecting the power cable and packing the final bits and pieces, including Anushka. The Idiot Cat had gone midnight walkies and wound her leash around the front tyre. She was now muddy, soaking, sulky and very, very noisy. I was pretty mad with her as well – the luminous yellow leash, so useful for finding her when she holed up and preferred to be lost, was now a gritty chocolate colour. Grrr.

Henry’s 3 litre diesel engine gunned, wheels spun and we were away through the damp, grey morning. Leftover Christmas dinner in the coolbox and plenty of hot water in the Stanley thermos for some very necessary Jacobs coffee. The road was almost deserted and we purred through pristine countryside. This part of Zambia is lushiously green and fertile and even at this early hour, splashes of bright yellow, orange and cerise pink shone through the emerald green as women hoed and weeded their fields. Ploughs drawn by oxen became commonplace on the route which gently rose and fell as it wound it’s way through an abundantly fertile landscape. The soft drizzle couldn’t mute the rich colours and all was very well with our world until the first comfort break. HO needed an urgent stop and Anushka seized the opportunity to escape. Without her leash. We spent 15 minutes tramping up and down the soaking verge and into the bush, the drizzle stirring my frizzy mop into a frenzy and my feet squelching in drenched canvas shoes.

Anushka exploring Zambia

Defeated, HO began emptying Henry to see if, by chance, she’d hidden herself under the spare wheel and voila, there she was. Dry and snug with that smug cat look all over her furry face. I was so stressed, cold and wet by this stag that the only thing to do (at about 9am!) was to take the open bottle of bubbly out of the fridge and slug it back. After a while, it was a very merry Christmas day indeed!

Lusaka on Christmas afternoon didn’t offer much in the way of wow, so we pressed on towards Kabwe, getting another 196kms under the belt. But Kabwe wasn’t on our trip planner, nor did we have Zambian data on our phones so we spend a fruitless hour driving the town looking for lodgings of a sort.

Lusaka

Deciding that when in directional doubt, ask a policeman we pulled into the Police Station and did just that. “Camping? Nowhere in Kabwe,” was the reply. BUT, the Police Chief on duty kindly offered us the use of their front lawn for the night. Why not? Ignoring the 3 guys in the outdoor cell, hanging through the bars, we moved Henry around the station onto the front lawn, causing quite a spectacle. The Chief hurriedly came out to request that we turn Henry around so that the side door opened onto the station rather than the street side, thus blocking the onlookers view. “This is Africa,” he insisted, “the people will keep watching you all night, and it will make our job easier if you stay with your vehicle at all times and the access is close to our front door.”  Reassuring thought indeed.

Meanwhile, a passerby referred us to a lodge on the other side of town and for the same cost of a campsite in Livingstone, we had a lodge to ourselves. Our suite of rooms was basic to say the least but a decent bathroom, large bedroom, lounge and kitchen, including fridge and kettle, was a welcome sight in the cool, wet weather. HO haggled over the price, seeing as it was after 18h00 on Christmas Day and we were the only guests, and the canny receptionist agreed, providing we were out of there before 8h00 the following morning and didn’t complete the guest register. Hmmm. 

Weirdly, the cats immediately made themselves at home and settled down for a snooze on the couch. Anushka was an escape artiste supreme, at every opportunity she was off out of the door to investigate the premises and we spent ages over the next 12 hours walking her in and out of plants, the guardhouse, restaurant and whichever nook and cranny she could find. This was the first brick and mortar building they’d been into in a week and clearly, they thought the neverending journey had, in fact, reached it’s endpoint.

Cats on Safari Part 3 - Bots to Livingstone

Being a few kilometres away from Sowa Pan, one of the magnificent Makgadigadi Salt Pans ensured that the pre-dawn chorus was magical. Elegantly clad in my PJ’s, I raced from angle to angle, Nikon in hand, desperate to capture the vibrant, flaming sky as it unwrapped. Sadly, no amount of shutterspeed adjustment got the unique shade of pink just right, so that memory remains firmly in our brain cells.

A cup of coffee later and we agreed to press on to Zambia. Freshly showered and packed, Henry started up and headed for the gate. Anushka had enjoyed her brekkie and immediately returned to her spot on the bed and I was pretty sure that Speckle was aboard – there was no trace of her at the campsite and neither of them wandered more than 5 metres away from base when we stopped overnight. At the gate, HO pulled over for a final check, saying that the last thing we needed was to turn around in a couple of hours. Rattling a few bits and pieces finally produced her inimitable howl – the cheeky cow was well hidden but on board. Off we go!

The road from Nata to Kazangula was, if possible, even straighter than the previous day’s. It drove straight as a die over the horizon, at times becoming an airstrip, a magnificent demonstration of dual purpose efficiency.  After all, if you are laying a tarred surface in the middle of nowhere, make it useful!

And then…ahead of us an elephant crossed the road. Seriously. The first of 8 or 9 pachyderms we saw on or next to the road, as well as 3 Ground hornbills, a Leopard tortoise and a herd of impala. Please note, this is not a conservancy or game reserve. It’s a major highway connecting Botswana to Zambia without a fence in sight. The sighting of major game in our dash to the border was simply thrilling and incredible to us. What a country! The cats were hugely unimpressed but Anushka did begin making a bit of noise so we pulled off the road, clipped on her leash and allowed her out for a pitstop. Which she immediately refused to do, being far more interested in investigating the outside world. 

Unfortunately, right behind us was a police van and, suspecting we had a problem, the cop pulled off too and asked for our paperwork. His face when he came around Henry and saw a cat on a leash! That broke the ice, he summoned his colleague from the van to see this amazing sight. Cats for them, elephants for us, everyone likes an unexpected sighting. 

Processed through the Botswana border, the next challenge was a ferry over the Zambezi river. All well and good, I watched Henry and his cargo board then began to follow, faltering when the juggernaut horse and trailer sprinted on board ahead of me. Share a flimsy little boat with that? No chance to rethink as the ferry began to pull away, leaving me no choice but to rapidly leap onto the rising ramp and cling to the guard rail.

Andy’s guide recommended using local help to survive the onerous Zambian border proceedings and he was so right. Two hours at the border, complicated by the fact that although we (and Henry) think he is a campervan, his offical papers refer to him as a commerical vehicle and apparently we needed special documentation. Which we didn’t have. Without Boniface and his contacts, we’d probably still be there. The furries and I sat it out in the offending vehicle but man, it was hot. This was when we needed S and A to be discreet, not that they’d have got out of Henry in the first place – many, many huge trucks and so much noise. I made a tent of a damp towel and persuaded them to lie under that, pouring small amounts of water into a cup for them which Speckle greedily drank but the temperature kept rising.

After coughing up a chunk of US$ we finally got away and stopped at the first local for a cold beer. Anushka was dying to get out and, securely leashed, explored her new turf. A cat on a leash proved irrisistible to the pub patrons who came out to introduce themselves and pet her. Thus began the first of many offers to buy our cats!

Reaching Livingstone, we flowed into Maramba River Lodge 4kms away from Victoria Falls and found our base for a few days. Shady, lush sites, an open lounge with WiFi, pub serving icy Mosi beer overlooking the river and a swimming pool. Heaven. HO climbed down and went around Henry to open up the side door while I gathered up the clutter in the cab. I didn’t think much of his driver’s door opening and looked up to make a remark which escapes me now – HO had shrunk about one metre and gained substantial head and bodyhair – the biggest baboon I’ve ever seen was casually scratching around the cab shelf, treating with disdain my Karen Blixen ‘shoo, shoo’s’ and leaving only when he’d found the lollipops we keep on hand to offer roadside cops. He then sauntered across to the rubbish bin and proceeded to unpack it in the hopes of finding some tasty titbits.

We ‘lost’ Speckle somewhere in Henry’s depths but, leaving the door open and the cat comfort station prepared in the shade, we headed poolwards. She was still MIA on our return which was, I confess, rather delayed as we’d met up with an interesting couple from Johannesburg and shared some war stories. My heart leapt skywards when HO called from the van “I’ve found Speckle. She’s breathing but unresponsive!”

Jumping inside, I swept her up and took her straight to the water bowl. She refused to drink initially, but rubbing cool water behind her ears and across her gums revived her enough to begin slurping up the liquid. We took the water away from her after a bit, thinking her insatiable thirst could lead to digestion problems but her recovery was remarkable and in no time Speckle was bounding up and down, in and out of boxes, stopping every now and then for a drink and some food. Phew.