I’m getting used to being in one spot for a few days but am not unhappy to leave behind the freezing nights as we head to Bulawayo. Needless to say, when we arrive at Paradise Lodge, a lovely home with a pool and a pond with a little stone bridge and cottages at the bottom of the garden, almost everyone decides to upgrade, which ends up posing some logistical problems for the lovely Christine, who runs this delightful home from home. But she’s up to the challenge and before long everyone is happily accommodated.

Half an hour later Andy arrives to take us on a game walk, tracking for white rhinos, in the Rhodes Matopos National Park. Andy is a stocky,white Zimbabwean and ace tracker. He wastes no time telling us the rules and the penalty for failing to observe the rules...... death by goring.

We set off from the entrance, everyone following in single file (well, almost everyone), everyone staying close together (well, almost everyone),  everyone as quiet as can be (well, almost everyone) and everyone copying Andy’s every move (well, almost everyone). It seems the rules don’t translate well into Dutch!  It’s like a silent Simon Says.. each time Andy ducks down low, there’s a Mexican wave ducking low, as we snake along his chosen route. He points to a pile of dung and tells us all the information he can glean from it. Rhinos were there this morning, and further along, this is where the rhino slept. Black rhinos were here, white rhinos were there. It’s fascinating and he is obviously passionate about his tracking but I’m beginning to wonder if we’ll ever spot the rhinos.

But, needless to say it’s not long before we spot something in the distance. Two white rhinos grazing. As we approach, they sense our presence and trot off in the opposite direction. This happens several times until I think they must be getting a bit fed up and might think about charging. Eek. Andy decides to take a different path and track around to get beyond them.

Eventually we get into a position where everyone can get some excellent photos of mother and child without disturbing them. Then we are heading back to the land rover, checking for tracks all the time. Then we’re off to the other side of the park, where there are supposed to be black rhinos too. Everyone is taking a turn riding in the jump seat which is suspended over the front bumper to make it easier to track while driving. A movement is spotted over to the side. It is not the elusive black rhino but a single male white rhino that has had its horn surgically removed so that poachers won’t slaughter it.

Andy crouches down and encourages us to move closer. It’s nerve wracking and some choose not to but we are quiet as mice and  manage to creep within 10 metres of the rhino whilst he is grazing and have our photos taken.

Elated, the sun is dipping down over the horizon and the air turns distinctly chilly as we head back to Paradise. Joy of joy there is an old VHS player and some old taped movies. After dinner, the girls fetch their duvets and we settle down for a girls night in with our bottles of wine and a girlie movie.

Paradise indeed.

It’s a full day’s drive to our next location in Gweru. Antelope Park has achieved fame in the documentary on Walking with Lions and we are to spend 3 nights here. From the moment we enter the gates and are directed to our riverside camp ground it is obvious this is a professional organisation running a commercial business.

The site is immaculate and there are quaint cottages and a lodge should we want to upgrade. Specialised pitches for overland trucks ensure we have enough space not to cause trouble to lodge residents, our own barbeque (wood provided), a covered eating area and separate firepit. The showers and toilets are warm and clean and there’s even sinks with hot water for washing clothes. The rolling grass down to the water’s edge offers plenty of camping possibilities and right next to our pitch is an outdoor swimming pool with sunbeds dotted around.

As we pull in to our spot, Dan is there to greet us and  give us a quick rundown of the activities on offer whilst we are there. A quick query reveals that there are already 3 trucks there before us and no upgrade options remain so the first thing is to pitch the tents.

The weather is hot and sunny and I’m looking forward to another 3 days practising my relaxation technique. After all there are plenty of options if I fail at my task.

Antelope Park’s fame has been gained through a specialist commercial programme aimed at breeding lions for eventual release into the wild, which has been widely publicised through a tv documentary screened around the world. Although not threatened at the moment, the wild lion population is decreasing so rapidly that it is expected that they could be extinct in the wild in less than 20 years. Lions which are used to human contact cannot be reintegrated into the wild as they will look to humans as a source of food. Here at Antelope Park they have developed a 4 stage breeding process which will ensure that the lions at stage 4 have no human contact and are well equipped to hunt their own food. However cubs at stage 1 have plenty of human contact and need to be adapted to life in the bush. This is the main income stream for Antelope Park as most visitors are willing to pay well for the opportunity to view, feed and walk the cubs and young lions. Additionally, they have many ‘volunteers’ who pay circa $500 per week to help out with the programme for short periods of 2-8 weeks. There are other ‘qualified’ volunteers (generally with some sort of animal management or research degree or postgrad) who help manage the whole research programme and stay for periods >6 months. These long term volunteers do not pay. This programme has been the subject of much controversy and even among the volunteers (both types) I find supporters and dissenters. So far, they have no lions beyond stage 2 with one pride ready for stage 3 and it may be some time before they reach that stage (if ever, some might say). The jury’s out as far as I’m concerned but Dan is so enthusiastic about the programme that I agree to ‘Walk with Lions’ and also shadow a researcher with the Stage 2 pride early the next morning before coming to my own conclusions.

There are only a few of us on the walk down past the river where the elephants have come to drink and, as we come over the brow of the hill, we see two cubs walking towards us accompanied by their ‘volunteers’ and a guide each.It’s hot and the cubs are tired. This is their 4th ‘walk’ of the day and they are not used to so much activity. They keep flopping down to lie in the sun and we use the opportunity to get some close ups. Born in captivity they have to be taught about bush life so they can teach their cubs. It will not be them but their cubs who will go on to stages 3 & 4. These lions are already used to human contact and will not be released into the wild.

Although it is fun to walk with the cubs and see them playing together like their domestic counterparts, walking them like I would my dog to the park does not give me a greater understanding of the programme. Rather it makes me feel I’m just another punter exploiting animals for commercial gain. Nonetheless, it is clear that the ‘volunteers’ who accompany us firmly believe that this is an important part of the education of the cubs.

As I lie shivering in my freezing tent that night, I mull it over ready for the next morning when we will monitor the pride of lions at stage 2. I mull it over again as I am defrosting in the hot shower the next morning.

There are only 2 of us permitted to accompany the researchers to visit the pride as they must record the lion activity over a set period of time to see how well they are habituating to life in the bush and to ensure they are acting properly as a pride. These are the grown cubs born in activity. They are expected to live as wild lions although their land area is fenced and their ‘kill’ provided in the form of live antelope. Their cubs will not have human contact and will progress to stage 3. So far only 1 cub has survived to this level so the programme is still very restricted. As we approach we see  a couple of females still lying asleep on the ground. One is pregnant. There are another 2 females close by and the male is hiding in the grass. As we watch, mum and the cub come out of hiding and start to play with dad. Then, one of the lionesses decides it’s time to go hunting and starts tracking some impala which we have not yet seen. We follow her for while but when she realises we are following she doubles back out of sight and we leave her to it. For me, this has been by far the most interesting part of the programme. The researchers are there to check that the pride is displaying pride behaviour and that each member is well adjusted and has a role. They cannot interfere with the pride in any way and have even been forced to watch a young cub with a broken back take days to die because to intervene would have jeopardised the programme. This pride must survive on its own talents but with only one surviving cub so far it is dubious whether they will achieve the ultimate objective any time soon.

Back at camp, some disappear off for elephant training while the rest of us chill around the pool. The freezing night temperatures are the main point of discussion and with such hot days it’s hard to imagine, even with thermals, and several layers of clothing, just how freezing cold it is at night. I am convinced I am going to die of hypothermia.

On the second night, we light the firepit after dinner and spend a large part of the evening  exchanging stories around it until we are sufficiently warmed through to risk heading for bed. It only lasts for a few minutes though before the cold seeps through to your very bones. My chattering teeth, me sleep talking ‘I’m soooo cold. I’m sooo cold’  all night keeps my poor, frozen tent mate awake for much of the night. Fortunately for both of us, I am lucky enough to secure an extra couple of sleeping bags for the final night and spend 1 night out of 3 cosy and warm.

It’s a late start for some after the frolics of the night before and for others there is the option of an early morning game drive on the lake. I have been told by many that I need to learn to relax so today I decide to take my training seriously, wondering how long it will be before I break. After a leisurely breakfast I grab my bikini and a sunbed and lie in the sun reading my book for a whole thirty minutes. Then I pace around the boat looking for activity, but everyone else is chilled and snoozing or reading. I really do need to apply myself more seriously, so it’s back to the sunbed. It’s a tough job and requires a whole lot of concentration, which is very tiring, so I sleep till lunchtime. I’m learning J

After lunch, I decide to re-apply myself to my new hobby...fishing. Just beyond the boat I can see the fish swimming in the clear water close to the shore amongst the rocks. They will definitely look good in tonight’s dinner. It’s not long before I’m the resident expert in threading worms, and others gaze in awe at my newfound skill. Casting is also a doddle and soon there are little tugs on the line. Eagerly I reel in the line, only to find that my tasty morsels have disappeared and only the hook remains glinting in the sunshine. Meanwhile, Kanyo and Mark are filling up the bucket with tiddlers. I am marginally mollified by the fact that only one is big enough to serve for dinner. As evening approaches, we decide to go for a sunset game drive. The water is so calm and the scenery stunning so it will be worth it just for the sunset. But sunset is the time when the hippos leave the cooling water to graze overnight and we are lucky enough to spot a few in and out of the water as we glide by. We also spot the crocs (it’s not easy, they all look like logs!) virtually licking their lips as we float past, just waiting for one of us to fall in!

Back at the houseboat, the cooks have prepared us a typical African meal of beef, ugali (a sort of maize porridge, like a cross between polenta and mashed potato and the staple of any African meal) and curried cabbage. In the evening we exchange stories on life growing up in Africa and our various home countries and some of us decide to sleep out under the stars, listening to lapping water, the singing frogs and ..... various grunts and slurps. Grunts and slurps? The water slaps against the side of the boat and we get up to peer over the side. We can’t see anything in the pitch dark but it is clear there is something close by in the water.

Next morning, as we cast off to return to civilisation, we spot the origins of the grunts. A             small group of elephants are also just moving away from the water’s edge.

We’re all very excited about the houseboats. Although billed as an ‘optional’ there is really no alternative and everyone has taken the option which is good news, as at this point we are not a big group. Fortunately, it’s not far from our campsite to the jetty and, as we are the only people on the site we have left the tents up ready for our return, making sure to pack any valuables in the truck.

We all have our fancy dress outfits for the onboard party, bought at a local market a couple of days earlier and, in the village supermarket, we stock up with the food (and drink) we have planned for the next couple of nights. Although we will have cooks on board to prepare the food, we have to decide what we want and how we want it cooked. Then it’s off to the harbour to catch our first sight of our new abode. In the harbour, there are all manner of boats but the houseboats are the biggest and most impressive, like floating hotels. Some even have balconies for the rooms and on board swimming pools. We eagerly search for ours, failing to see what is right in front of our eyes! Our floating raft is compact with almost enough rooms for all of us (someone will have to sleep al fresco on the upper deck). On the lower deck are the bedrooms, (open to the outside and with a ‘modesty’ curtain to the inside), the kitchen, toilets and 2 showers. At the back is the swimming ‘cage’ and an extra ‘game drive’ boat. Upstairs there is a large covered communal area with a bar and comfy seats and there are even some sunbeds and a ‘jacuzzi’ which seems to be empty.

As soon as we have loaded all our stuff , it’s time to cast away and make our way across the lake. The sun is high, the water is calm and there’s a slight breeze to stop us overheating. It’s time to grab a sunbed (or failing that, a spare mattress), a good book and a cool drink. It’s a tough life, all this relaxing.

It’s not long before we arrive at our first night’s cove. The water looks clear enough to take a swim but as we gaze at the fish swimming around the boat there’s a movement over by the shoreline. We can just make out the nose and eyes above the surface as a croc follows the shore in the water. Don’t shout too loud. Some of our group are enjoying a quick dip in the water by the boat. We don’t want to panic them. Fortunately they are in the swimming cage so quite protected.

By late afternoon, we are looking for some activity. Most people decide to go on the game drive but  I am keen to try something new and join those going fishing with a view to catching something for supper, maybe even a tiger fish.  Pretty soon, we are out on the water in a small canoe and I am grappling with worms trying to escape the inevitable whilst constantly checking the water for a marauding croc. Now this fishing lark all seems very simple when you’re watching ‘Gone Fishing’ on the telly (personally, I prefer ‘Extreme Fishing’ with hunky Robson Greene but that doesn’t look too easy). Get a worm. Wind it round the hook. Chuck hook in water. Wind fish in. Simples. Oh no it isn’t.

1.       Get a worm. Pick it up. Drop it. Pick it up again. Watch it slither off your hand. Pick it up again. Watch it wriggle free. Pick it up again. Splice it in two as you try to grip it more tightly. Pick it up again, etc, etc, etc.

2.       Wind it round hook... refer to point 1 above, inserting ‘wind round hook’ after each ‘pick it up ‘ Actually, the real trick, I learn 45 mins into the above exercise, is to slide the hook inside the length of the worm so the fish doesn’t spot the hook. Now THAT takes skill.

3.       Chuck hook in water. What they don’t tell you is that, in order to ‘chuck hook in water’, you have to move the reel (that’s the metal thing that holds the line) in a certain way, whilst simultaneously holding the line out AND flicking the rod from behind you, out from the boat, WITHOUT falling in the water, and WITHOUT catching your hook in anyone else’s neck or line. Complicated, huh? Let’s just say it took me a while and that no fish or animals were hurt in the making of this blog (except the worms- do worms have feelings?). This negates point 4: Reel fish in. It never happened.

Long before I’ve mastered any of the process, it’s time to return to the houseboat and get ready for tonight’s big event. The fancy dress party and quiz night.

First things first. We need to prepare the punch and add the secret ingredients (i.e. any leftover spirits that have been acquired en route) to let the fruit soak them up. Then, it’s time to make ourselves gorgeous and for once, the guys beat the gals.

Dinner is served and it’s time to serve the punch and start the quiz, carefully compiled and compeered by Kanyo. Every question is (allegedly) related to something we’ve learnt or seen on the trip. Each team has someone who has completed the whole trip to date (is that supposed to help?). Each question causes much debate and hilarity as we try to cast our minds back through all the amazing things we have seen, done and heard and discuss without revealing our answers to the competition. Each round is punctuated with a refill of punch. I’d like to say my team won, but at least we didn’t come last.

Next morning, there are a few sore heads and strange things floating on the surface of the water around the boat....

All too soon it’s time to leave the lovely Kande Beach and  head towards our next sample of paradise. In between we have a couple of drive days and a couple of other changes.

Dickson has us up at 5.00am for his last day, driving to Chimmweme and it’s close to dusk when we arrive and pitch our tents, after which we have to clear out Kifaru and get dinner.

Our new truck is Eeyore and what an impressive sight he is. No canvas, drop down, roll up sides with scratched plastic windows you can’t see through. There are proper windows, which open and close individually. Yay. We will no longer have to choose between being suffocated in the stifling heat or being blown away by the wind and dust. There is space between the seats and the seats are more springy. Eeyore has a big, powerful engine to get us all the way to Cape Town and comes complete with his own driver, David, who might have dropped straight from the front page of GQ magazine.

But, as we move stuff from one truck to the other, we soon realise the benefits we had with Kifaru. Under truck storage space on Eeyore is more limited and accessing the food baskets a little more complicated. In the cabin, that feeling of spaciousness means we have a much smaller fridge (no room for drinks!) and only one set of seats has a table for playing card games, etc. Our secret safe for valuables is much smaller and more difficult to access. Even our on board library is much smaller. The door into the truck is much higher off the ground making it harder to climb in. I am grateful I no longer have my stitches in my knee. And although we will be grateful for the proper windows on long drive days, these smaller ones with proper frames will make game drive viewing and photography more difficult than with the big, open sides we had with Kifaru. In the Masai Mara and Serengeti these had proved invaluable with a truck full of people and cameras. We will need a little time for adjustment.

It doesn’t take us long, however, to appreciate the benefits of proper, opening windows or comfy seats as we drive along. That said, for anyone caught napping on the back seat without their seat belt, the improved suspension increases the risk of air time (time in the air when your bum and the seat are no longer connected) and finding yourself catapulted into the seat in front (or worse, the gap between the seats!) should we hit an unforeseen pothole, road hump or particularly bumpy road surface. Most of us learn this the hard way!

Today we cross from Zambia into Zimbabwe. The Zimbabwean currency has devalued so much that the paper became more expensive than the note value. Now we have the opportunity to become instant billionaires or even trillionaires. But the accepted currency in use today is the US dollar so the notes have only a tourist value. Negotiations are undertaken, deals are done, full sets acquired to show the folks back home for the princely sum of 1 US dollar. As we complete the exit paperwork in Zambia, Kanyo sends us off to Zimbabwe saying he will catch us up later. Now, normally the transit from one country into the next is but a few metres walk, but little did we realise that here it means traversing a mountain. As we make our way along the narrow, winding mountainside road it seems like miles before we reach the next valley and the enormous dam that traverses the Zambezi and the 2 countries.

David stops the truck so we can walk across the dam and up the hill to Zimbabwe immigration. As we cross, Sally and John look down the steep walls calculating that this dam is as high as the bungy jump they have planned to do in Victoria Falls and trying to envisage jumping off a bridge that high with only a rope tied to their ankles. Why would you?, I ask myself. John looks pale at the thought.

Walking across with us are a group of ladies wearing bright red and white uniforms with white bonnets. They have been to a big church conference in Zambia and are making their way home. They are cheerful and chatty as we walk together exchanging views on the church and education in our various countries. Arriving at immigration, entering Zimbabwe proves more long winded than any other border we have crossed and it takes us some considerable time to get processed, causing some consternation to the representatives of Zimbabwe Farmers Trade Union, who are stuck behind us in the queue. Thank goodness we are still a small group.

Thank goodness too, that we only have a short distance to travel to the camp site from the border. David takes another small, windy road, hugging the mountainside and climbing steeply as it winds its way around  the contours of the headland. He hesitates at a crossroads but we are on the right road. We know this because we spot the sign on the steep drive as we drive past it and on down the other side of the hill. But we have no way of communicating with him in the cab and, it is only when the road narrows to a track with heavily protected residential housing either side that he realises we have gone wrong. It looks impossible for such a large truck to execute a 3 point turn on such a narrow road with ditches either side. It seems equally impossible that we can reverse back up the same narrow windy road. But impossible is not in David’s dictionary so he successfully reverses and executes a perfect 3 point turn in a short entrance way.

Arriving at the camp site perched high on the hillside above Lake Kariba and the nearest village, we are lucky to have the whole place to ourselves. There is a bar and a swimming pool, which they are filling as we arrive. Kathryn doesn’t wait to get her cozzie out of her bag but jumps in fully clothed to cool off.

Next morning, we have a new recruit on board the truck. Unfortunately, he had been stuck at the border as he had failed to get a necessary visa prior to arrival in Malawi and needed to get one retrospectively.

After dropping him off and picking up our groceries for the next 3 days, we head off to Kande Beach. It’s cloudy and overcast when we arrive and the waves are choppy on the white sand of the steeply sloping beach which stretches as far as the eye can see in either direction. A few of us decide to upgrade, but there are only a limited number of single rooms. The matter is decided at a turn of the cards, and as the losing parties, Hannah and I decide to share a twin cabin on the beach front. With hot showers and a laundry service, we are looking forward to another 3 days of sun (??), sea (freshwater) and sand. It’s a tough life.

With not a lot of activities on offer, the first stop is the bar to check out the local beer and the hammocks on the decking overlooking the lake.

Next morning, we are enjoying a leisurely breakfast, when two people ride past on the most beautiful horses, coats gleaming. A brief chat with the lead rider and Trudy, Maria and I are booked for an afternoon ride through the countryside and along the beach, with an option to take the horses into the lake for a cool down at the end of the ride. Given the cloudy day it won’t be too hot to ride in the afternoon

This option prompts a debate over whether it’s safe to go into the water here. Malawi is well known to have a high risk of bilharzias and there appear to be 3 schools of thought.

1.       The risk is limited

2.       The risk is high and the consequences grave

3.       The risk exists but the solution is a simple pill available in any chemist at low cost

Trudy has recently undergone surgery and is unwillingly to risk further illness. Others have already decided to go scuba diving in the lake and take the risk. I remain undecided.

By lunchtime, all the clouds have burnt off and it’s a scorching hot day! Of course! Arriving at the stables we cannot believe the conditions. No horse has ever been pampered like these. And in the middle of Africa. It’s incredible to us. Setting out, we are told about each animal’s idiosyncrasies and how they prefer to be handled. As we ride through the bush, along tracks and through local villages, we gain an appreciation of life for the locals. There are plenty of opportunities to trot and canter but we are conscious of the heat and keep it to a minimum. Our guide has thoughtfully provided us with water bottle attached to the saddle but the horses have no possibilities to rehydrate. As we pass the local villages it’s clear that the children are not that used to horses and that people on horseback are still cause for discussion.

The ride passes too quickly and soon we are on the final canter and the last leg along the beach back to the campsite. I am persuaded that the risk of bilharzias in this part of Malawi is limited and decide that a bareback ride in the lake is too good an opportunity to miss. A quick change into swim wear and we’re heading down the steep sandy slope into the water. Clover decides that the water is a bit too choppy and is not keen to go in but with some encouragement she eventually heads into the lake. It’s not long before she is up to her shoulders and enjoying the cooling water, whilst I try to stop myself sliding off her wet back.

I am happy and exhausted at the end of it and the first beer of the evening slips down without touching the sides.

Next day,  Kanyo has promised us a hog roast for the evening meal and the last job of the day is to select the unfortunate animal to be slaughtered as the roasting must commence early in the morning and be supervised throughout the day. I am NOT on hog supervision. I am on sand supervision and spend most of the day fully committed to my work.

The hog roast is a great success for dinner and then it’s back to the bar for some liquid refreshment and a few games of pool. The more I drink the better I get!