AFC#18 Kariba to Gwaai River | african-fisherman

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Kariba to Gwaai River

The Diary of a Family Adventure

12th to 24th August, 2013

By Rob Barrett

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The Run

The 30 foot Andante lies moored in the slightly run down Cutty Sark Marina so it is easy to embark and set off after arrival. However there is no hurry in this case as Helen is due to run tomorrow in the Kariba half marathon, and thereafter, our friends, Kevin and Kate and Kids Brits, want to sail with us for a couple of days on Monique. So we simply go out for a Saturday afternoon sail before going to the Brits' cottage for the night, near Charara.

After a night on Sampa Karuma island, sadly the Brits have to go back to Kariba next day. Back in time to say farewell and stock up on ice and petrol and have a light lunch at the Harbour View café. Anxious to start our real adventure, we decided to head back to Sampa Karuma on Andante, enjoying a sunset beer on a gentle close reach before mooring in the same place as the night before. It was nice to be a family again, though not alone as houseboat hooligans having humor were haphazardly everywhere.

There can be few more pleasurable ways to explore the expanse that is Kariba, than under sail. Not really for the faint of heart, it can be an amazing family adventure filled with quality time and exploration life seldom allows. This is the Zim-Family Barretts story.

Wonderful sleep though as the noise died down, and off well before the sunrise, with kids asleep, and Helen bringing me tea with the dawn. This is the advantage of August sailing when the sun rises at a sensible time yet not too cold. A following breeze made this a magic sail, improved by breakfast and a swim as the wind dropped mid‑morning.

Called in at Steve Edwards’ at Musango as there was some electric fencing to be looked at. It turned out that they were not ready for us, so after a dip in his pool, we motored off into the hot still afternoon to get into Honeymoon Bay with the sunset.

A fine beach on which to have a beer, watch the light orange sky turn to dark red and carefully paddle in the misty‑looking water. Zambian kapenta boat lights came on through the haze and life was very good. This was such a snug berth! Pork and Potatoes with gem squash under fabulous stars preceding a guaranteed peaceful night and we were reminded how important it is to stay in the land of our birth.

A sensible departure time on Wednesday morning but with little to no wind and that long tree line to be crossed, not the most exciting day. Ideal conditions for motoring.

Sinamwenda

Wind on the nose as we approached Sinamwenda with some force in it, so a dramatic entry to that huge bay, past the walls of the old research station surrounded by aloes, rocks and baobabs. Reckoning to moor at the base of the ruins, we chose to do a tour of the bay before settling down for the night. Signs of civilisation to the east with houses, palm trees and greening, so we went for a look.

Families in dire straits, as kapenta fishing declines, their house is dark and gloomy, no sign of electricity, no clothes in wardrobes. No cars, no road and no fuel for the little motorboat drawn up to the side of the house. Two little girls, one shaking with malaria on a bed, the other clutching a huge green knitted frog called Dillon. We are mates. Two other ladies and a young man called Edward who spoke with an African accent and spends all day fishing.

Who is the mother? Or the sister? Or the father? Or even the husband? It’s all very vague and becomes more complex the more we enquire.

We leave them with a fair bit of grub and as we take our leave Mike, the bald bearded patriarch, appears. Friendly guy. I invite him for a beer with us, if he has enough fuel to motor across to our mooring. He does not.

Our evening is spent exploring the university research station ruins. Walls only with slabs where the lab benches had been, and broken asbestos littering the place. A pretty site but today’s UZ students are not into that sort of thing. We wanted to get to Binga the next day so up early again and off into the sunrise. Day again hazy and still but some wind, albeit from the SE, to keep us cool as we go through the Chete narrows.

Dramatic scenery - cliffs and lodges on the Zim side and lots of animals on the Zambian Chete Island to our starboard. A pleasant headwind livened up our approach to Binga, which we reached at 4.30pm.

Binga

All I wanted to do was lie in the hot sulphur pool, with a beer, and watch the sun set over the lake. But the pools were closed for painting! Still, the Kulizwe Lodge, adjacent to the marina has a delightful pool, and Rest Camp did a superb meal which, with drinks, set us back all of $30 for four of us. We were happy. We had been able to get more fuel too.

The Vissers still own the place, but lease the kitchen out. It is still a great place. It turned out Anton’s sister Yolanda is married to Charlie, who was having his birthday party at his kapenta set up at Sebungwe narrows the next day. We were invited.

We woke to a SE gale, known in that area as “The Falls Wind” and spent hours tacking into it (and Zambia), well reefed and fairly overwhelmed. No fun for kids, or anyone, but late in the morning it dropped enough to proceed, as always, under our little Chinese four-stroke. Roller reefing the Genoa flicked our badly stowed bow ladder over the side in the deepest part of the lake, so it seems we suffered more loss the lighter the weather became.

Sebungwe

Reached Charlie’s at 4pm just as the “Falls Wind” came up again, and tied up to a huge houseboat he plans to renovate? This was a great stop for everyone, green and shady, with farm animals, tractors and a quad bike for kids. We were made most welcome even though Anton and new wife, Theresa, had left as we arrived.

An interesting observation is that in these “white” enclaves in the middle of Darkest Africa, no‑one ever gets on, and trying to do “the dirty” on your neighbour is common sport. The place we had been advised to moor at was normally used by the family next door, and our hosts looked on with glee as, on their return from a fishing trip, they struggled to find another place to moor.

Delicious party left‑overs and damaging Vodka and Coke just kept coming until we made our escape to our “love‑boat” and spent the rest of the night battling headaches, thirst and a “Falls Wind”.

Milibizi

Early off (Saturday) and stopped for a fine breakfast and wander at Milibizi Hotel, after avoiding the ferry just coming out. This hotel is still really nice and has such an old colonial feel to it. Mind you, we are now under the “Bulawayo Sphere of Influence” and the whole of Matabeleland is really like that.

Gwaai River Gorge

Much refreshed and cheered and hangover now a thing of the past, we set off on the final push toward Devil’s Gorge. With a new batch of Helen’s bread in the oven we entered that gorge at around 1pm after dodging a few nets at the entrance.

By now the long hoped‑for NE wind had arrived and a magnificent run was enjoyed for about 20km - well past Gwaai River, our official turn around point. Judging the time to be propitious and surrounded by cliffs closely resembling Tsholotsho in Gonarezhou, down came all our sails, as we turned through 180 degrees back to Gwaai, which we reached under motor, into the wind, an hour later.

It is very beautiful up the Gwaai with steep cliffs reminiscent of Sanyati, but with lots of weed along the sides. Mooring (and mozzies) can be a problem but we found a break and tied up to a rock, which looked more threatening than secure, so steep, were the banks. I climbed to the top and Peter and Edward played on the rock. Helen struggled to relax. Dillon squawked.

Though we had to dive for cover at mozzie time, this was a beautiful anchorage, cool in the early shade of the evening and still at night... Small jelly fish squirt their way through the water at this end of the lake and fish eagles soar from the heights. I liked it there, we all did, and we had achieved! We had sailed three quarters of the way to Vic Falls.

Our return started with a long motor into a light headwind as we made our way back to the NE. Sunrise over the gorge and beautifully built Zambian timber fishing boats stick in our mind. Tea and breakfast too and a wonderful peace (motor notwithstanding). I love this life. I steer with Dillon on my lap. Helen pounding dough, Peter and Edward colouring in their books. A long day to Binga ahead, but how bad can it get?

Back to Binga

Not bad at all, as it turned out, with a long but mild beat after Sebungwe narrows and a Binga landfall at 5.30. After getting ice and fuel we lounged by the infinity pool, kids in the playground, while Helen’s curry simmered in the gas oven. We were really getting into the swing of things.

This marina charges $10 per night per boat but it is secure and safe as you wander about and well sheltered. We were happy to pay.

Chete

A rising wind after a sunrise start took us nearly all the way to Chete on a beautiful run, and dropped us as we reached the gorge itself. Pleasant to motor slowly through there though, free of waves, and many animals to see. Lunch and tea, and a decent brolly, with Dillon helping me steer, twins asleep. All so pleasant, and a good opportunity to stop and bathe at Sandy Beach. We would have felt safer without a medium croc sizing us up for dinner, but, as I sometimes say, the croc you can see is much safer than the one you can’t.

A freshening wind pinned us to the beach as we tried to depart, so into the water again, me, shoving the damn boat off. All very hairy.

Luizikululu Bay

This is such a wonderful anchorage, with its long narrow entrance. An island within looked like it could bear exploration, which we did in the light of the late afternoon. The remains of a T and G timber lodge gazes eastwards, which, on inspection, seemed once to have been quite substantial, despite its pre‑fabricated construction. We found out later it had been the overnight stopover for the Ferry in the war days when they didn’t go after dark. There is also a rumor it was once itself mined.

Our mooring that night was amongst rocks and the remains of a National Parks harbour in the east of this bay. This is a very cool place, as it is easy to disembark and explore, which I did all the way up to the top of a hill, where lay a seemingly abandoned National Parks camp. I love wandering around these remnants of a Lost Civilisation, and imagining which youngsters once peopled these places back in the day. All I know about Nat. Parks camps that are currently occupied is that they tend to look more like squatter camps.

Ghosts

With a feeling of melancholy, I wandered back down, dwelling far too much on all my ghosts from the past. How long ago was it since we sailors grouped together almost yearly to come to these places?

I remember so well Wolfie and his tyrannical but effective ways, Sensible Terry, Chuckling Craig, Tropical Hout Eric, Drunk Gary and Rolly, Been There John, Bookworm Alan, Round the world Frank and Trumpet Eric, and so many others. What a lark we all had, and I tell you, I felt so privileged to have tagged along with these guys, and to be able to hand this on to my children.

I hope this article gets to some of you.

I had also sailed these trips in the early days after my divorce, with my first batch of kids, Patrick, Angela and little Bobsie, when I was still a bit raw, and it is always good, if sad, to look back and see how far you’ve come.

North‑Easter

The wind we had hoped for all the previous week flattened us onto our rocks at three in the morning. Not nice, and thus, when we finally escaped our mooring at 5.30, I was pretty weary. The wind appeared to have enough east in it to enable us to make good headway to the Kota Kota narrows, via the end of the tree line, so we set off with high hopes... shooting out of our little gorge like a cork from a champagne bottle. I suppose the wind was 25 or so knots and those who know Andante know she doesn’t carry enough weight in the keel, and what she carries is not low enough. So well reefed we were, but still heeled well over, and no fun for anyone, big waves breaking against the starboard bow, Helen a bit sick, but kids, mercifully sleeping through the worst of it.

We plugged away for hours, well into Zambia but being overwhelmed, couldn’t get her to point as she does in the lighter airs. Every time we tacked we seemed to be going straight back, so towards midday, I threw in the towel, mainly through tiredness, and took a freer tack back to the far distant Zim shoreline, still well short of that blasted tree‑line.

Looking on the map I saw a bay and fishing camp called Chibuyu, and we put in there around 2, parking amongst a small fleet of kapenta rigs which showed signs of being part of an well run establishment.

And so it was, as we tiredly wandered over the bank to a small house and workshop set up, with the moth eaten remnants of tourism chalets scattered about in once picturesque abandon. All this looking north eastwards over the calming waters of the vast Sengwa basin which had beaten us, and kept us trapped on this day. As the waves got smaller, I wished we had carried on, but I was tired, and Helen pointed out this was part of the adventure.

We liked this couple; Trish, lined and weathered but spry and chatty and philosophical, and her husband of many years, Jacques, dapper, hard working, earnest, of French extract, whose workshop was spotless, and lathes and tools well used.

We stayed in one of the “chalets” at their request, and in truth we were happy to get off the boat. The cold shower worked, the toilet too, so that was nice, but if anyone had slept on the huge bed (shared by all of us) in the last ten years, it was only the dogs, who had forgotten to make it.

Dinner with our hosts was stew and sadza, and the liquor of choice, Eagle beer! I never thought I would drink that again! Golly.

We enjoyed chatting with them over the sound of their TV that night. They too were slowly going broke with their three rigs (iniquitous fees from both Nat Parks and Binga RDC.) but didn’t want to leave, so would hang on to the end, assuming that hadn’t already arrived.

Mosquitoes were a nightmare that night.

Escape from Sengwa

A nice early start as the wind rose to its previous pitch. We were better rested though, and I determined to keep going to wherever, until the wind died in the early afternoon.

Again, huge waves, queasiness and misery, but one thing about Andante, she holds her course in almost any condition. So I lashed the helm, and tried to relax, sitting out of the wind on the tilting cockpit floor, listening to music, and holding whichever of my boys woke and crawled out to me. Time (lots of it) passed relatively pleasantly in fact, and well into Zambia, we found our heading towards Kota Kota was actually quite reasonable after a couple of dud tacks.

We got into the lee of some mountains in that land, close to a couple of marker islands known in that part of the world as “the dog’s balls”, which effectively lead one well past the tree line in the absence of GPS. We knew we had succeeded, and, in the smaller waves and lessening wind motored out through Kota Kota to freedom. What a day. But we were triumphant, thus happy, and soon enough, lunch and tea as well. Big relief.

Elephant Bay

It was my intention, in the event of our safe deliverance, to overnight again in Honeymoon Bay, delightful as it is. Now I got ambitious though, and as I needed to be back at Steve Edward’s Musango early the next day, we opted to go through Chunga gap, and head for what we call Elephant Bay, just before Katete, after Chalala. This meant a bit of moonlit sailing (ETA there, 7.30) which proved to be a whiskey soaked delight (ice and beer had given out the night before), though more motoring than sailing.

This was in fact the night of the full moon, so we had plenty of light to moor by, (though the darkest period coincided with Chalala where fish poaching dinghies are at their most numerous), and with supper already in the oven we had a wonderful evening. Sadly, no Elephants.

Musango

The North Easter the next day had a fair bit of north in it, so a very pleasant but exciting couple of tacks were all that were required to see us round the Bumi Peninsular. Calm weather from there, but easy to Musango, and there well in time for lunch.

Kids swam, I walked the electric fence, making sure the wisdom I imparted was well worth the value of the free night and supper we had been offeredt. I love this part of my work, and I do know a few tricks, so there were smiles all round as we took our evening drinks with Steve and Wendy and the sundry Dutch and American type guests.

A wonderful supper, and a fabulous night’s rest, and a great end to our adventure.

Kariba

Motoring home after brekkers carefully husbanding the last of the 50 litres of fuel we had used, the NE winds only really kicked in as we passed Sampas. Too fed up and too close to home to try tacking, we motored most of the rest of way where the lee of Mica Point made the waves small enough for this to be possible, and back at our mooring by 4pm.

I love Cutty Sark hotel, and a final drink and supper there is always a real pleasure, before snuggling down to our last night on Andante. Friday night, leaving a pleasant Saturdays drive to get home and face civilization again.

Big Sigh!

Andante

Monique

Sunrise off Sampas

Crew Breakfast

Entrance to Honeymoon Bay

Sinamwenda

Evening sets at the ruins of the University Research Station

University Research Station Ruins

Left: Chete Island in Zambia

Right: National Parks in Chete

Binga Rest Camp