That doesn’t look like Africa does it? You’re right! I am in Belgium again, after a marathon journey from the wilds of Kasungu National Park back to Lilongwe Wildlife Center (stayed a day), then a flight to Nairobi (19 hours layover), on to London on the eve of Brexit (overnight, met my mother) and finally by Train to Brussels (my own little Brexit) and Sint Truiden. I arrived on a sunny afternoon to a world utterly different to where I had come from. In the night a massive thunderstorm blew up and a lightning strike took out our internet just when I was skyping with a techie in California who was trying to help me undo the damage done by hackers to my other website. I went to bed and gave myself a couple of days to adjust and recover.
Outside Sint Truiden Railway Station
Now it’s time to go back in time and fill in the last ( and for me perhaps the most interesting) part of my Malawian adventures. There’s a lot to tell so I will spread it out a bit – make a few posts out of it. So rewind to Africa, Malawi, Ntchisi Forest Reserve about 3 weeks ago.
Ntchisi Forest Reserve
Crowned Hornbill
I had been packing my bags at Liliongwe Wildlife Center in preparation for departure the next morning to Kasungu for the (already delayed) Primate Release Program when Cazz, the charming volunteer coordinator came by to tell me that Amanda, with whom I was supposed to drive up, had come down with Malaria. Maybe in a couple of days someone else would be driving up and Mandy, who was in charge of the program (also stricken with Malaria) would be going in 4 days time. This just wasn’t working. I found a travel guide in the living room and after some browsing picked a place called Ntchisi, a Forest Reserve with a little Lodge, more or less on the way between Lilongwe and Kasungu. It sounded nice, I could go there and have a little holiday and once everyone had recovered from their Malaria they could pick me up there. I made some arrangements and next morning I was en-route to the tiny town of Ntchisi where a young Dutchman in a Land-Rover picked me up and drove me the 25 bumpy Km to the lodge.
The road to Ntchisi
I see straight away that I have made a good choice. The lodge ( in former times the British High Commissioner’s hill retreat) has a beautiful garden commanding a wonderful view across the forest-clad mountain, foothills and distant Lake Malawi. There is a small vegetable garden and no other guests at the moment. I ask for the traditional nsima for lunch and enjoy the filling polenta-like starch with meat and vegetables and, of course, a bottle of Fanta.
The Lodge at Ntchisi Forest
Fueled by nsima and the bracing mountain air I set off in the afternoon to explore. Edouard, the lodge manager, has given me a little map of the reserve; it is very accurate: 20 m. contour lines, trails, points of interest all clearly marked; it and I will be inseparable the next days.
The Map
On this first afternoon I climb a short way up the mountain to a view point from which I can see the dense forest further up. Large birds of prey are soaring along the high ridge – something to check out tomorrow. I follow another trail down a ravine to a small waterhole (“Dambo” on the map) where I find a Saw-wing Swallow’s nest then back up the hillside to “Sunset Rock” and to the Lodge. I sit outside my roomy guest tent and watch the last rays of the sun through the trees ( – and a Mountain Greenbul). After a hot shower (first in about 3 weeks) and some excellent food, a little chit-chat with some guests who have turned up for the night , day 1 is over and I pile all the blankets I can find on my bed and get in for a good night’s sleep.
Guest Tent at Ntchisi Forest Lodge
Next morning I am up at crack of dawn for a full day in the forest. I enthusiastically eat as much as possible from what is on offer for breakfast – I don’t want to carry more than a sandwich and a couple of Bananas with me. I have forgotten what happened last time I ate raw pineapple.
As I start up the mountain I try to ignore the messages coming from my digestive system (they are saying: “full english breakfast, 2 slices of toast with lots of strawberry jam on top of a large bowl of muesli with bananas and Pineapple was not a good idea” ). I slow down and choose the gently sloping forestry road instead of the more ambitious red route. It is actually a good choice. Birdwatching in the forest is almost impossible; the slight gap created by the vehicle-wide track allows me to catch some glimpses of a warbler here and there and some Cabani’s Greenbuls which I identify by their funny habit of stretching one wing at a time – I read it in the field guide last night and there they are creeping around and flicking single wings at me. I stop a lot and slowly my stomach works its way through the ill-matched mess I have dumped on it. The sun slowly penetrates through the canopy and as I slowly gain altitude I come in to a magical realm of giant trees, vines, strangler figs and undergrowth that looks like house plants from a giant’s greenhouse.
It is an incredibly lush, almost impossible to photograph three dimensional landscape. Water runs down the ravines where the vegetation is thickest. I catch glimpses of monkeys and Baboons, strange bird-calls echo through the shady green air … I stop by a stream, trying to locate a bird and while standing there a flash of colour draws my eye .. again, this time I see it, a bird snapping a moth out of the air and landing on a shady branch. I look with my binoculars and there is nothing there, just dead leaves – then one of the “dead leaves” blinks and I see it, a red and green bird, it is a Trogon! I have despaired of ever seeing one of these shy birds and here it is – and I can see from the pattern on its tail that this is the rare Bar-tailed species. It is the less brightly marked female and she flaps in to the air again and dives off in to the gloomy ravine. Fantastic!
I make my way on through the forest and come out near the peak in an open space from which (it feels like) I can see the whole world. I can also see two Crested Eagles and a number of other birds of prey; they soar above me and then dive down towards the wooded foothills and the little villages I can see surrounding the reserve – off hunting. I eat my sandwiches (stomach fully recovered by now) send text messages to anyone and everyone I can think of (reception is very good up here) and rest for a while.
View from the top
Eagle-eye’s view of a village
In the afternoon I make my way over the ridge to the other, drier side. I am in a little clearing in the forest, trying to get a look at a Batis Flycatcher when my phone rings – it is my mother! She finally figured out she can call on my Malawian number. What a place to be talking with her from! Still talking, I set up my camera for a timer shot and return to the tree stump I have been standing on for a sort of “selfie”
Phonecall in the Forest
The other side of the mountain is a dry, open woodland. The Brachystegia trees are twisted and gnarled and carry beards of lichens and orchids on their branches. Here and there are Proteas. laden with huge blossoms. I miss a turning and have to do some serious navigation, triangulating with the large rock which must be “Western Viewpoint” to calculate the position of another waterhole in a deep ravine. I spot some reeds, follow a game trail and triumphantly reach a small muddy puddle surrounded with giant boulders and huge spider-webs. I feel like Indiana Jones with his treasure map (actually the water-hole is about 200 metres further down the ravine and is much bigger, but who cares?).
Proteas
I return to the lodge at sunset after a fine day’s adventure. A Baboon barks from a treetop but stops when I tell him I am a friend. The lodge is empty, I have dinner alone – the most delicious beef pie I have ever tasted – where did these guys learn to cook? An African Wood Owl perches on the Agave bloom spike in the garden as I head to my tent to cap a perfect day.
The next day, buoyed by how surprisingly fit I find I am (I attribute it to all those cold showers) I go for the challenging blue route. It means first climbing to the peak, then going down the other side to the wooded foothills (where I saw those eagles hunting yesterday) then up again by another path and finally down the forestry road.
I am carefull with my breakfast and soon reach the top, shrouded in mist. A troop of Blue Monkeys are breakfasting on lichens, all puffed up to keep warm.
I start down the other side and the path goes down, and down, and down – I am a bit worried because I will have to climb back up all this altitude and the route back is marked “very steep”! I stop in a little grove of trees to decipher a garbled text message concerning my pickup day after tomorrow, when a shadow passes over me. I look up – straight in to the eyes of a large , almost black bird of prey hovering about 10 metres above me. It makes a little circle and then dives right past my head and zooms through the trees at high speed, swoops up in to the sky, comes round and repeats the whole thing again! I am too stunned to think of my camera and I am trying to figure out a. what on earth is it doing and b. what sort of bird is it? (Snake Eagle? Goshawk? ?). Its only later I realise that it is an Ayre’s Hawk-Eagle (rare!) and what it is doing is using me to flush out the birds it likes to hunt. Wish I had got a Photo!
The Eagle follows me a bit and dive-bombs once again as I reach a deep ravine from the bottom of which the path starts climbing back up the mountain. Its the middle of the day, full sun and the “path” is almost vertical straight up the mountain side, hardly a path at all, just a straight line over boulders and fallen trees, high grass and crumbly banks. I guess it makes more sense going down this part of the route than up. Still I start up, stop and rest my aching legs in little patches of shade and, sooner than I expect I reach the top – the open space with the great views.I feel fantastic, I could climb another mountain right away> I sit on a boulder and almost straight away the huge Crested Eagles show up, gliding low overhead. It’s magic. I sit there on the rock – I am the mountain, I am the Eagle, I am the sky…
Crowned Eagle
I linger long and as the sun nears the horizon make my way down the mountain through the dark and mysterious rain-forest. It is so wonderful to be by myself these days: just me, some birds, a few monkeys and lots of trees. But I am about to meet some nice people.
Edouard had mentioned something about an American couple in the morning, but when I get to the lodge I find it’s actually an English father and daughter. David, the father is sitting on the terrace and tells me his story. First time in Africa, luggage lost, rented a 4×4 and drove out to the little village where Manon, his daughter is volunteering. A day there and then another 50 Km bumpy track to here. Absolutely loves it. When places are set for dinner he can’t understand why they are putting me at a separate table. I like him.
Manon joins us; I had been expecting another pampered, self-centered, social media-addicted ignoramus seeking to add a line to her CV (based on my experience so far of young western volunteers) but was soon set straight. She and her co-worker are running a kindergarten in a village and living a no-frills Malawian rural life. When she tells me proudly about removing flesh-eating maggots from each other’s behinds (“would you like to see the video?”) I am totally won over; maybe there is hope for the future.
The kitchen have excelled – desert is nothing less than Sticky Toffee pudding, a great favorite of mine.
Sticky Toffee Pudding
The next morning we go our separate ways in to the reserve. Around mid-day I emerge from the forest to the magic open space and there they are, David and Manon, perched on the best boulder. The visibility today is astounding and we can see right across the lake to the mountains in Mozambique. Fluffy clouds hang in the air and giant green grasshoppers whirr through the air on blue wings. We hang out and talk about this and that, life the universe and everything. Then I go my way and they go theirs. It has been lovely to meet.
David and Manon
I make my way back down, climb a granite dome I have had my eye on and sit and enjoy my last evening. I have very few bird photos from here – I have seen few (but all very special) birds here and always difficult to see let alone photograph. One bird has been very friendly: the Striped Pipit, a rather nondescript fellow, just sort of brown and stripey with a diagnostic green sheen on its flight feathers. He keeps popping up everywhere and really posing – I have been ignoring them because they are not so exciting. Now, as a sit on the lichen-covered rock, a Striped Pipit hops around, begging: “take my picture!”. I give in, he may not be a Trogon or an Eagle but he’s been good company on my Forest adventure.
Striped Pipit (note green sheen on primaries)
Lichens