Vagabonds in Madagascar. Part 1

[Vagabond]

Vagabonds in Madagascar Part 1

 

Why Madagascar ? There are no huge freshwater fish there, and most of the endemic species are small, and not only small, but rare or on the verge of extinction. The introduced species such as carp, snakehead and tilapia are all to be found elsewhere. The seafishing is very little different from that of other Indian Ocean locations.

 

However, the main reason for our visit was for the rainforest birds. Norma particularly wanted to see some of the Ground-Rollers, of which only five species exist in the world – all endemic to Madagascar, and some other groups, such as couas and vangas, which also are confined to that island. There are between 100 and 120 endemic bird species in total, some of which are rare and extremely localised, and a few thought to be extinct, not having been seen for many years. We thought that if we saw half the birds on that list (say 50 to 60) we would be fortunate.

 

I also hoped that I could add to my world list of fish species, by catching endemic fish high up in the watersheds. Research before the trip suggested that might be difficult, as deforestation had stripped much of the country bare. Once the tree cover has gone, the understorey soon follows, and then the red laterite soil is exposed to the full fury of a monsoon climate and the rivers, the colour of thickened tomato soup, are busy transporting much of Madagascar’s topsoil to the sea.

 

Added to that is the very poor, but very hard-working, rural population. As soon as the surface of a draw becomes moist, or as soon as a spring shows above ground (and sometimes before) there is a rice farmer channelling the water into a zigzag pattern of paddy fields. Puddling in rice seedlings, and tending the rice as it grows, are countless workers turning the watercourse into a slow-moving muddy slurry.

 

 

 

As you can see, where the dry hills stop, the rice paddies begin. Any fish depending upon clear water for breeding hasn’t a hope in hell.

 

Compounding this is a human population increase of 3% per year – which means that if that rate continues, then in 23 years time the population will have doubled – and already Madagascar has to import rice to feed its people – the money for the rice coming from logging and mining – themselves not that eco-friendly. Ecologists might wail, but the loss of habitat is inexorable and inevitable, and at least the people are attempting to earn their food rather than asking for hand-outs.

 

We wanted to see this unique flora and fauna for ourselves, whilst there is still some left. It is 100 million years since Madagascar was isolated, and many strange plants and creatures have evolved there since then. Added to that, contributions to National Park fees, and incidentals such as lodging, food, transport and guides, helps in a small way to keep conservation of the remaining rain-forest viable. Despite the difficulties already mentioned, I still had hopes of catching some of the endemic freshwater fish, so took along a suitable range of fishing gear.

 

As you already know, we could not get out of Crowborough on December 2^nd – roads blocked with abandoned vehicles and trains not running. A window in the blizzards enabled us to get away on Saturday 4^th, then an overnight in Paris (late arrival at 12 midnight, freezing, overpriced "hotel" and if we had not had the foresight to take our own sardine sandwiches we would have been hungry as well)

 

The flight to Madagascar next morning was fair enough, though the in-flight chess computer was very weak – even at the "difficult" setting, the score was Vagabond 19, Computer 0. (Note for chess buffs. The computer can be induced to weaken its pawn structure by offering a piece as bait, then retreating when the pawn makes a (premature) move. Also, when playing black, make sure you have moved the Queen’s Rook off its home square by move 10 – or it just disappears!!!)

 

At Antananarivo, following the most chaotic immigration control ever (six people per gate, each doing a sixth of job, not necessarily in the right order – at one point they lost our passports !) we changed some Euros into local currency. 10,000 Ariary notes (we christened them Harry-Harrys, eliding the H) each worth about £3, so for a month’s touring you need a suitcase for your cash. Stayed at an hotel near the airport – early night, for an early start, and a long drive next day to catch up with our two-days-late itinerary.

 

Tasted my first and last Madagascar coffee next morning – horrible. Drank whatever else was available for the rest of the trip. Norma claimed the coffee was drinkable, but I disagree.

 

A couple of days at Ramonafana Reserve – on the east of the central N-S mountain ridge, rainforest in deeply ravined territory – plenty of climbing up and down steep trails. Some excellent birds (will provide a list if Tony U and others are interested) including two of the Ground-Rollers.

 

Rather annoyingly, I lost my hearing completely on the second day. "That’s a Cryptic Warbler" said Norma excitedly (a very recently discovered bird). I heard that, via my hearing aid, but by the next bird I could hear nothing. Sign language and scribbled notes have had to suffice since then (I’m rubbish at lip-reading)

 

Then on to the next adventure – via Ambositra (Excellent lunch at the Hotel Violet – strongly recommended) and overnight at Antsirabe ("Le Retrait" Hotel – lock on door broken and useless – staff too lazy to organise breakfast) but found a restaurant that provided an excellent breakfast in town.

 

Sent y’all an Internet note, and whilst doing that our driver had an argument with a street vendor who accused him of disrespect for the poor "because he was a driver". Our driver offered to fight him to see who deserved respect ! Incidentally, it had cost our driver much hard work and cash to qualify as a driver who could be entrusted with a modern car – he was not a driver by chance.

 

Overnighted at Miandrivazo at "La Reine Rasolima" – quite reasonable, ready for a three-day trip down the Tsiribihina river in a pirogue. This was the only way to get to a strip of gallery forest to which there were no roads.

 

Loaded up and set off after reporting to the police station, where there were forms to fill up. It seems very important in Madagascar to know who your parents were – we had to enter details of parents on every document we came across. Its part of their culture – respect for ancestors. They even dig up dead forefathers from time to time, and after a suitable ceremony, re-wrap them and re-bury them.

 

Norma was hoping I had not written "Michael and Minerva Mouse" in the "parents" columns.

 

Anyway, we set off, our guide Rija (not just for this trip, we had used him as agent for all of our tour, preferring to use local expertise rather than put money into a European-based travel agent) in front. Rija was chatting to the world on his lap-top, and barking instructions into his two mobile phones (one a top-of-the-range iphone 4, the other more mundane) re other tours he was handling as agent. Whilst doing that, he was also peeling potatoes for our midday meal, as he was cook as well! Behind Rija were the supplies and cooking pots, and two luckless chickens, legs tied, "guests" for a future meal. One chicken had escaped during loading, leaping into the river, but was soon recaptured.

 

Norma was next, taking videos of the river birds. Then our baggage, then me, then more baggage and finally our poleman, equipped with long pole, and a paddle for the deeper parts.

 

 

 

Blissful journey for about 20 Km……………..

 

Then – out of the reeds, like a pike striking at a roach, came another pirogue, poled by a youth with long strong arms, long strong legs, big feet, and very little concept of forward planning. The prow rode over our gunwale, just in front of Norma, forcing our pirogue underwater.

 

I had a split second to realise we were about to be dumped into a turbulent, crocodile-infested river.

 

"Keep your head" I thought, and then, remembering the guidebooks comments about the microbiology of Madagascar’s river "and above water" ("is that a valid syllepsis?" I mused also). As the pirogue submerged, I lost sight of Norma, as Bigfoot’s pirogue was in front of me, but drifting away. I swam to it, (beginner’s breast stroke, mouth above water) grabbed it, hoisted myself up to look for Norma.

 

It was a great relief that at the same moment, Norma hoisted herself up on the other side, looking for me. Common sense should have told me that Norma, by far the better swimmer, was well able to look after herself, but nevertheless I was concerned, particularly as I had lost what little hearing I had, so could not hear a call for help.

 

By now Bigfoot’s pirogue had drifted into shallower water and we could touch bottom. Our poleman now came into play, he had grabbed the back of Bigfoot’s pirogue, pulled it towards some reeds and hastily tied it to them. He then swam after our pirogue, shouting at Bigfoot to do likewise.

 

I rolled into the boat, and dragged Norma in. With remarkable presence of mind, she had grabbed her small haversack as the boat submerged, and was swimming with it. In it were our passports, travel documents, her cash and visa cards. My cash and visa cards were in my pockets. So, we at least still had our lives, each other, our binoculars round our necks and the wherewithal to get ourselves home.

 

Somehow Rija made it to Bigfoot’s boat and climbed in with us. At that moment, he was a broken man. Laptop useless, both mobiles useless, his wallet lost, and his "guided river tours" business possibly gone as well. He did not seem to know what to do next. "I am ashamed" he said. We reassured him that we did not consider the accident his fault, and I thought the best thing was to tell him was that anyone could be a guide when things went to plan, but the test of a good guide was how well he could sort things out when there was an unexpected crisis.

 

That seemed to cheer him up a bit, and things looked better as our poleman and Bigfoot now returned with as much of the gear and baggage as they had been able to save. That was rather more than we hoped for. My haversack, the rod case, both our holdalls, our water bottles, and a 12-pack of 1.5 litre bottled water. Our clothes were wrapped in several plastic bags within the holdalls, which not only kept them dry, but made the luggage buoyant – hence retrievable. Likewise I had wrapped my camera, my medication, the first aid box and other items in plastic bags within my haversack, so that floated also.

 

Norma had sustained a nasty-looking gash across her shin from the keel of Bigfoot’s pirogue as it overrode our boat. A bottle of drinking water was put to good use in swilling the wound off, a spare dry shirt in patting it dry and Savlon cream liberally applied. We never travel without Savlon Cream. It contains Cetrimide, very effective against gram-positive bacteria, but more importantly, it also contains Chlorhexidine, which kills the very dangerous gram-negative bacteria that are resistant to most of the common antiseptics. Infected wounds can be life threatening, so we also always carry a couple of courses of broad-spectrum antibiotics when abroad.

 

Norma had also sustained two hefty bruises, on hip and shoulder where Bigfoots pirogue had forced her down onto our gunwale. In her own words"When the prow of the pirogue from the reeds rode over my left leg, I thought it was a goner, but had not realised the prow was pushing our pirogue under as well, so I was merely crushed and cut. Treading water, with one hand holding my haversack, I was able to grasp the gunwale of the other pirogue, and was relieved to see Dave doing likewise on the other side. It is still a mystery as to why, when the other pirogue overrode our boat in front of me, we found ourselves on opposite sides of it.

 

We could see a trail of flotsam going downstream, and by now we were just touching bottom with our feet, so were able to hold the pirogue while our poleman tied it to some reeds. Dave got in the pirogue and pulled me in"

 

Wet, bruised, bleeding, torn trousers, still with hat on, still smiling.

 

 

I then baled out Bigfoot’s pirogue, as we were sitting in six inches of water. As his prow rode up over our pirogue, so Bigfoot’s end went down, hence the amount of water in it. We took stock – clothes, and documents safe and dry – or at the worst, damp, as we found the passports to be. The only ink that ran was that of the USA immigration – so we were lucky to be in Madagascar and not Texas!

 

Both binoculars OK, both watches waterproof, my camera working, Norma’s video not working.

 

Tacklebox lost, Norma’s telescope and tripod lost.

 

All cooking utensils and pots lost, all food lost or spoiled, except for the pair of bedraggled hens.

 

Camping gear, tents, bedding etc, saved but wet.

 

Rija’s guitar saved but waterlogged.

 

The poleman dived to see if he could locate Norma’s telescope, but with visibility only an inch or so it was hopeless.

 

I retained my hat also - swimming with hat on is like Geoff Boycott bowling in a test match in his cap. Cool.

 

We had a council of war, at which it was decided we could not continue the trip, but should pole back upstream to the nearest village, and return by zebu cart to Miandrivazo and "La Reine Rasolima, overnight there, then drive to Morondava, arriving a day earlier than expected.

 

Poling back upstream was extremely difficult, as there had been a big storm in the mountains the previous day, and the river was rising. I volunteered to assist with a paddle, not because I thought my 76-year-old muscles would make a huge difference, but because I wanted to raise the morale of the poler and encourage Rija to take up a paddle also. I don’t know about the poler, but Rija did follow my example. It was hard work, but inch by inch we got up the worst rapid.

 

The village we reached was a culture shock – I have seen poverty in India and elsewhere, but these people were living in the same conditions as their zebu. Taking a zebu cart to Miandrivazo was apparently out of the question, as the track was not good enough – the only way there was by river.

 

After some bargaining and barter, it was agreed that we should split personnel and baggage between two pirogues – our own, and one of the villages. (Bigfoot had by now sloped off – he didn’t leave the name of his insurance company) The village would provide four fresh polemen, which enabled our exhausted poleman to rest.

 

There was a big rapid past the village, so we walked through the village to ease the polemen’s task and rejoined the pirogues a bit upstream. As we walked through it was like the Pied Piper, about 80 children followed us.

 

They clearly expected something, as we were probably the only visitors they had ever seen. So I gave them a short story, with appropriate mime and gesture.

 

This is the tale of Hermit Alf

 

Who lived all alone by himself

 

He was a hermit, good and true

 

One day he made a magic brew

 

And wrote down in the book just how,

 

To turn himself into a cow

 

The people thought him very clever

 

To turn himself into a heifer.

 

I don’t know how much they understood, but the punch line got a roar of applause.

 

Set off with the four polemen, one fore and one aft in each pirogue.

 

This one donned his best trousers for the occasion.

 

Progress was a bit quicker, but it was still a long journey back. Long before we got to Miandrivazo a big electric storm was upon us, and the rain came down in stair-rods as only a tropical storm can. Had to bale yet again. At one point lightning struck the bank about a hundred yards away, and removed the faint hope that my hearing loss was due to earwax – I could hear the crash only faintly in the left ear. My right ear heard nothing – and that’s the ear that I have been using the last few years.

 

Still the rain thundered down, the one good thought was that at least we won’t be in bivvies tonight.

 

Reached Miandrivazo at 6pm, and due to cramp, I had to be prized out of the pirogue. Took a rickshaw back to the hotel but as it was uphill the rickshaw chap stalled, and as my cramp had eased, I had to help him pull it uphill! Nevertheless I gave him 10,000 ‘Arry-‘Arrys – about a fortnight’s wages, so someone went home happy.

 

Ate a huge meal of chicken and rice (was assured they were not "our" hens as I felt they had earned a reprieve) and a large bottle of THB each (Three Horse Beer – an excellent strongish ale)

 

Started the process of cleaning up and drying out. Our room became festooned with rows of soggy 10,000 ‘Arry-‘Arry notes, our reserve 20-Euro notes, and a few UK tenners.

 

Staggered into bed.

Edited December 31, 2010 by Vagabond

[chesters1]

blimey mate after all your escapades you'd think you would buy a nice set of luggage and the mrs a nice new pair of trews

OH Madagascar i thought the wey was a bit coloured ,sons got a nice tan though

Edited December 31, 2010 by chesters1

[Steve Burke]

Strewth! What an adventure! That's one for the memoirs.

 

So glad you're both OK.

 

Looking forward to the next part.

[Dales]

Sounds like quiet an adventure, glad you are both ok.

[Steve Walker]

Commiserations, but could have been so much worse!

[Tigger]

It's like raiders of the lost ark lol. Come on Harrison....I mean Dave, lets have the next instalment

[Dick Dastardly]

Dave you and Norma have got more balls than Tiggers got centrepins!

[Tigger]

Dave you and Norma have got more balls than Tiggers got centrepins!

 

 

LOL Budgie, but I don't think Norma will agree to having balls

 

 

I do agree that they can walk the walk aswell as talk it

[Newt]

Unflappable Norma and Vagabond.

 

Whenever I get feeling old & tired, I think of you two, decide I'm being a crybaby, and get over it.

 

Don't ever stop your adventuring.

[lutra]

I do agree that they can walk the walk aswell as talk it

Barking mad is how i would have put it.