For one brief moment, I was alone with the whale shark. He was enormously languid, weaving through the warm water like a vast, slow shadow. His eye, tiny in the great greyness of him, stared straight past me. The stippled white markings on his back reflected fingers of sunlight. His tail, taller than a man, flicked within a foot of my face. Then a tide of fellow snorkellers barged past, leaving me bobbing breathlessly in a white wake of their bubbles.
I felt a twinge of annoyance as I watched the dark shark shape swim off, surrounded by a froth of excited overlanders. I wanted him all to myself, dammit. Then I reminded myself that if it weren’t for those rude, barging blockheads, the only whale sharks I’d be watching would be on TV.
“˜Africa’s not for sissies,’ I often hear people say, with a certain smugness that implies they’ve personally prised crocodiles from their limbs, charmed gun-toting guerillas and danced over the backs of buffaloes. Perhaps some of you are grizzled solo adventurers, capable of walking across the continent with nothing but a penknife and a small compass. If so, I salute you. And I think you’re nuts.
I am a sissy, but I’m not going to let that keep me at home. That’s why I was in Tofo on Nomad Africa’s 14-day Mozambique trip. It started in Johannesburg where we met our truck MJ – short for Michael Jackson – our driver Dzingirai Mashodo, who laughed more than he spoke, and our red-headed guide Charl Coetzer. The group, standing in shy huddles around their luggage, was made up of two German couples, a South African couple, and fi ve women: me, my friend Jess Barker, Swiss Tamara Diethelm, Australian April Farrugia and Scottish Fiona Walker.
If you’re a single woman with a little bit of time and not all that much money, there’s obviously no better way to explore Africa than in a big, tough truck named after a glittery-gloved pop star, with a loony but loveable driver, a ginga guide and a bunch of other sissies from across the world. (I might also add that if you’re a single man, this would be a particularly clever way to meet women.)
Our expedition started inauspiciously with a grand tour of Johannesburg’s outer ring-road system and an extended shopping stop at the Highveld Mall. (Tip: this is a good time to buy pillows and papsak.) But by late afternoon we were bouncing over the hills of Swaziland towards Hlane Royal National Park, the kingdom’s largest protected area. At the park entrance we were greeted by a strange and rather disturbing monument: a wall made entirely of wire snares, festooned with sun-bleached shoes and tatty backpacks. These were mementos of poachers, against whom Swaziland’s Big Game Parks have been fighting a long and largely successful war. Despite the horror of the rhino-poaching epidemic in South Africa, we were told that Swaziland’s parks hadn’t lost a single rhino to poachers since 1992.
At the camp, I had the opportunity to single myself out as a super-sissy. While the rest of the group got busy learning how to put up their sturdy canvas tents, I went and fetched my room key from reception. It’s possible these days to do an overland tour without once pitching a tent (although you do still have to pitch in with the dishes).
For a reasonable additional fee, my package included four-walled, solid-roofed, clean-sheeted accommodation every night. As a veteran of too many unpleasant Incidents Involving Tents, this was an irresistibly attractive option. Another attractive feature of the tour was that most of the activities are included in the price. So despite the fact that “˜game’ and “˜drive’ are both four-letter words in my vocabulary, I went on one the next morning. And how glad I was that I did!
I know we saw some buck and birds, but all I remember are the rhinos. First a mother and her baby meandered across a clearing just before we drove round the next bend into a group of rhinos crossing the road. Then there were rhinos trotting along to our left, and another pair scraping their ticks off on a stump to our right. Eventually we had to turn around because there was a rhino snoozing in the road. We passed more rhinos on our way back to camp. I lost count at about 17.
Our next day’s drive wasn’t quite as exciting. It’s a long leg from Hlane to Tofo and a bit of a slog to get 13 people and a truck over the border into Mozambique. The foreigners all had to get special visas, which meant they disappeared for about an hour and emerged with much lighter wallets. For once, we South Africans could feel pleased about our passports.
When we finally arrived at Bamboozi Beach Backpackers, it was dark and we were zonked. One of the Germans, balking at the thought of pitching her tent, offered to buy my room. I was secretly delighted to say that I couldn’t possibly camp because I hadn’t brought a sleeping bag. I was even happier when I reached my quarters: a thatched wooden hut perched high on a dune with a little balcony overlooking the sea.
Tofo is all about the sea: surfing, diving, fishing, kayaking. The activities are optional, so you’re free to lounge under a palm tree (just beware of killer coconuts – the campsite is littered with them). However, if you do nothing else, go on the Ocean Safari with Liquid Adventures.
An aquatic version of a game drive, it’s a cruise along the coast in a rubber duck to check out whatever might be about. The real aim, of course, is to find whale sharks. Tofo is one of the best places in the world to see them, as they’re permanent residents there. Jess had sought whale sharks many times in many other places, with no success. That morning she got to swim next to one for as long as her legs could keep kicking. The grin stayed on her face even longer.
That could easily have been the highlight of our holiday, but better was yet to come. An easy drive up the EN1, a remarkably good road these days, brought us to Vilankulo and the start of our overnight dhow excursion with Sailaway Safaris. The first thing I noticed as we clambered aboard our dhow in a confusion of snorkels and sarongs was the smoking sandbox and the heap of bright orange crabs beside it. This was a proper dhow, its wood painted in multi-coloured layers peeling to reveal years of use, and the crew were going to cook our lunch on an open fire while we sailed towards the low white crescents of the Bazaruto Archipelago.
Ahead of us lay days of snorkelling in coral reefs that scintillated with sea-life, gorging ourselves on fresh seafood washed down with rotgut rum-and-raspberry and chatting around starry campfires with the easy camaraderie of travel companions. There were long white beaches, long empty roads and long dew-bejewelled grass in store. Lions, leopards, canyons and kingfishers waited in the wings. I stuck my feet in the warm water and swayed with the gentle rocking of the dhow, looking forward.
Overlanding Mozambique (the easy way)
Getting there
The 14-day tour departs from Johannesburg and goes through Swaziland, Mozambique and Kruger National Park.
What it costs
The camping trip, Discover Mozambique, costs R9 950 with a local payment of US$295 (about R2 065). Rates include all transport and camping equipment, guides, park fees as well as most meals and activities.
Who to contact
Book the overlanding Mozambique trip through Getaway Adventures. Click here for more information on the trip and to book.
Handy hints
- Buy a cheap pillow at the start of the trip. Pillows make long truck journeys much more comfortable!
- Nomad gives you the opportunity to offset your carbon footprint on the trip by purchasing a “˜Green Seat’.
- Hlane to Tofo is a long drive, so make sure you have a good book or magazine to keep you entertained.
- Don’t leave Mozambique without buying a bag of delicious cashew nuts from the side of the road or eating cashew nut pie.
WIN! A Discover Mozambique 14-day tour for one person and a 25 percent discount for your partner, worth R11 940, with Getaway and Nomad Africa Adventure Tours. Enter here.
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