Typical small town Madagascar traffic
We spent the night in Tana at the Ikopa Hotel. The hotel was mediocre, the food was mediocre, and the service was mediocre. We had a blinking light overhead all night long, which we couldn't remove and no matter what we changed, something was blinking.
Lova and Caesar met us early in the morning. Caesar was driving a different vehicle, a Nissan 4WD with higher clearance. The vehicle was stuffed, as it had camping gear and food for the four days of our trip. Lova drove some at first when we were on good roads, so Caesar could sleep. Apparently we had a really long day ahead with some tough driving.
As we were leaving town we passed a transportation hub crowded with many different colored minibuses. Lova told us there was a 46% literacy rate in Madagascar, where literacy meand "read and understand numbers." Because many people can't read, the busses going to different rural communities are painted different colors.
We passed a gated community which Lova said was where wealthy Pakastini families lived. He said they kept to themselves and didn't mix much with the rest of the people.
We learned the Indian Mina birds were introduced to control locusts and crickets, and probably caused the extinction of several local species.
The countryside had few trees; it was mostly dry grassland. Lova said the few trees left were Tapia, because they are fire-resistant. They are all that is left in some places after over 50 years of slash and burn agriculture.
Somewhere along the way, about the time we left the pavement, we picked up another guy who rode with all the gear in the back. Tovo's job was to point the way when we got lost.
It was slow going, even when we were still on the pavement, due to the poor condition of the road. After we left the pavement it was tough driving. The road was heavily rutted and muddy, with steep ups and downs. There were big boulders in some of the creeks we forded, with a steep approach down into the creek and a steep exit on the other side.
We came to the village of Beambiaty, where they raise oranges. Place names in Madagascar are descriptive. "Be" means "a lot of." "ambiaty" means oranges. Because of the orange trees, there is no burning in the town and the orange groves, so alongside the road we found a wider variety of vegetation and with it, boatloads of chameleons. In a creek bottom we saw a Yellow-Billed Kite, a Red Fody, and a Pied Crow. In another sheltered, undisturbed place we saw a Red-Tailed Vanga, Grey-Headed Lovebirds, and a Madagascar Bee-eater. We also relearned the word for white guys, "Vazama."
Everywhere we went we saw deliberately set grass fires and massive erosion.
After we left Beambiaty, the road deteriorated further. We got lost several times and had to backtrack, despite Tovo's guidance.
As we were heading down to an impassable-looking creek bottom I looked across to see a fully-loaded freight truck headed towards us. How could you navigate this road in something like that?
We were headed for a spot on a plateau above the village of Ankavandra, which is down on the Manambolo River. The trucks were hauling freight too and from the village. They have good rice production at the village, but no easy way to ship it out. So they haul it up to the top of the plateau, and the freight trucks haul it to Tana from there. I asked Lova why they didn't ship it down the river, and he said the road to Bekopaka at the take-out was even worse. Since the villagers have no good way to ship the rice, they get a poor price for it.
It was dark when we finally arrived at our destination on top of the plateau above the village of Ankavandra at about 18:30. We were met by our guides, cooks, and porters. The porters may be guides weren't guiding on this trip; they rotate the guides so everyone who is qualified has a chance to earn the higher pay. But they may also be less-qualified workers from the village. They had some sort of dinner cooking on a fire, but we were too tired to eat much of anything. A storm was brewing so the guides scrambled to get our tents, and theirs, set up. The storm arrived in a hurry, and we dove into our tents.
The tents were not the best, some cheap Chinese copies with weak poles not really suited for stormy weather. I spent half the night lying down with one arm braced and a fist against the tent wall to prevent it from collapsing.
But morning eventually came, and with it a clearing and a tremendous view, albeit impeded by the usual smoke. A pair of Pied Crows was soaring around camp looking for leftovers.
The top of the plateau is 600 - 800 m (~2500') above the river and the village. We had a quick breakfast and started hiking down as soon as we could, hoping to avoid the worst of the mid-day heat.
We only had to carry our day packs with water and snacks; the guides and porters carried our other bags (we had one each) and the camping gear and food we would need for the trip. The had no special bags or rigs for carrying the gear; they just grabbed what they could and somehow made it work.
I was hoping to see some interesting animals and birds on the way down, but we didn't see much. We did find a frog near the trail. There was a beautiful waterfall off to the south.
It took us 4½ hours to make it to Ankavandra. The last hour was pretty hot. Once we got off the plateau we hiked a ways on flatter ground, then forded a small stream. A bit more walking across dried out fields and we were in the town of Ankavandra.
Lova wisely decided we should wait until 14:00 in the cooler afternoon before putting on the river, so we relaxed in the shade on a porch and ordered a soda. Dona was concerned about how she would stay cool in an exposed canoe. We had asked Lova if we could buy an umbrella in Ankavandra and he said yes, so Sid went looking and got one.
We shared some of our trail food with the local kids.
Shortly after 14:00 we hiked through the village to the beach, where we had a blessing for a safe trip. We said thanks to our porters, then got in the canoes and shoved off. There were two of us in each boat, a guide and a client, except for Lova whose boat had three. I was paired up with Mami, Dona was paired with Patric, the most experienced and head guide, Sid was with Longi, and Lova was in a boat with Max and a hitch-hiker.
One of the motivations for doing the float was the hope we would see wildlife in a less-disturbed, more natural setting. The scenery along the river was semi-wild and pretty, but not spectacular.
The river is wide, shallow, and muddy. So shallow, in fact, that it was literally difficult to float a boat. Instead of liesurely floating down the river, we spent our entire time on the water weaving back and forth across the river searching for a channel. When we found one, we would try to follow it, but with uniform, muddy water, a channel was impossible to keep track of. In short order we ended up sliding into the sand, grounded on the bottom. We would get out to lessen the draft and push the canoe over the obstacle, or use our paddles as poles to push ourselves through/over it. Or the guides would tell uss to stay put and they would get out and push the boat over the obstruction. It appeared to me there was usually a narrow, < 1m wide channel along the banks, but for some reason the guides seemed to want to find a channel more in the center part of the river; we would be going down the side channel for a while, but then they would head towards the center, and seldom seemed to look back to the shore.
In addition to the river being extremely shallow, the canoes were not well suited to it. They are too short, too narrow, have too much rocker, and too round a bottom. As a result, they ride too low. But they are what the companies have, so they are what they use. However, we were lucky. Other travelers use the native dugout canoes, which are even narrower and ride even lower.
It was still oppressively hot, which made it difficult to enthusiastically do much of anything. While we didn't have to paddle — the guides seemed ok with doing all the paddling — it's not in any of our psyches to sit back and let others do all the work. So even though Dona could have sat back and watched the world go by from under her umbrella, she seldom did. And was unbearably hot as a result.
At one point there was a storm building and I had Dona's rain jacket in my pack, so I tried to get them to pull over so I could give it to her; she got mad at me until she realized what I wanted.
We camped the first night on a big empty sandbar. The guides spread out a tarp for us to sit on for dinner, which was spaghetti with a chicken leg and broth, with peanuts and "pigeon poop" hors d'oeuvres.
Unfortunately, the guides didn't speak any English, and maybe not much French; Dona speaks some French but had trouble communicating there too. So it was difficult to know what they wanted us to do to help. Frustratingly, we didn't understand when they would point something out like a bird on the shore until it was too late. When we saw one, we couldn't easily signal "stop" because the guide was behind us. In retrospect, this is a no-brainer; we should have gotten everyone together and worked out some signals we could use. Duh.
Despite communications problems, the guides were great. The fact that they put up with wimpy folks like us speaks well of them. We would stop for lunch around 11:30, and rest up in the shade for a couple of hours. Lunch was always a hot meal based on rice. The guides would start a fire and we would wander around in search of something. Then when the worst of the heat was past, we would put back on the river to paddle down to our next camp.
The river is not "wilderness"; all along the way there are small villages set back from the river where you can't easily see them (except for the last day in the canyon). As we paddled along we would see people on the bank, bathing or fishing or just watching us. Sometimes they would wade part-way out to talk to the guides or make an exchange of some sort; the guides brought a few things down for people they knew who lived along the way and needed something.
We saw only one other recreational group on the river, a large party of French people.
Dona and I decided one of the classic sounds of Madagascar, besides the Indri, is the Madagascar Coucal. They were a constant presence, like the Howler Monkeys in Guatemala.
Camping on the sandbars did not seem ideal. Given the ferocity of the storm on our first night, I didn't relish being on an open sandbar in our flimsy tents in a storm. It was getting late and we were all tired, so when I saw what looked like a great camp sheltered by trees with some grass, I headed for the spot. Mami and I checked it out and it seemed great. Sid and Longi were just getting out when Patric and Dona arrived and Patric told the other guys no, we had to go across and downstream to another big sandbar.
I was miffed; I couldn't understand what was going on. We learned later that Patric is the most respected crocodile hunter on the river, and that the trees and grass along the shore are great nurseries for shrimp and other good things to eat. Crocs love those places. If you don't want crocodiles in camp, you camp on the big open sandbars.
It turns out the Manambolo River has the most crocodiles of any river in Madagascar. If I had known that, I may have been a little more reluctant to go for a dip when we made camp. However, I guess if the crocs don't like the bare sand beaches they probably don't frequent the shallow waters in front of them. In any case, Lova, Sid and I still have all our parts. I tried to convince Dona to get in to cool off but she said she was too tired. Maybe she was also concerned about a cut or scratch getting infected or worried about getting sick somehow.
This was our last night on the river, and it was a hot one. We slept on top of our sleeping sheets and were still hot. The tents were not well vented, but at least they kept the bugs out.
I didn't get any really good bird pictures on the trip, and it was disappointing. But Sid did, so that's good.
There were a few birds hanging around camp.
Mangoes are not native to Madagascar, but they thrive there and have been introduced in many places. There were Mango trees all along the river. We picked and ate some on our hike down before we reached Ankavandra, and there were trees laden with fruit overhanging the river.
We paddled up a side channel to stop for lunch. The guys started a fire and cooked up some rice with chicken and vegetables while we rested and took cat-naps. For dessert we had fresh pineapple! Yum!
Lova told us his extra passenger was a guy from Ankavandra hitch-hiking down to Bekopaka to bring his nephew back up. The kid's dad is sick or something and can't do it. So he will help pole the boats back up and bring his nephew with him.
Some hours later we paddled back to the river. Some families were washing clothes and swimming below us. We surprised a young boy playing by his dugout at the base of a rock bank; he abandoned his canoe and scampered up the rock and disappeared.
Our last camp was on a sand bank just inside the canyon. Dinner was spaghetti and duck; Sid's and mine seemed tender enough, but Dona thought hers was a tough. We salted our meals pretty heavily because of the heat; we should have brought some electrolyte drink powder.
As well as us floating downstream, we saw people poling their dugouts upriver. The current is not too strong, and it's the highway here. But it is slow going and hard work if you're doing it all day or for several days.
Lova told us there was a cool side canyon we could explore; Sid and I were all for it. We paddled up as far as we could, which wasn't very far. Lova, Longi, Sid and I hiked up to the first big pool. Dona stayed back and looked for birds, butterflies, flowers and other interesting stuff.
The Tsingy formations are immediately north of the river here; I found a "micro tsingy" forming in the limestone around the pool.
When we got back to the boats we found Dona had tracked down some cool dragonflies.
We got back in the boats and headed out to the main river. We found a man chopping out a new dugout on the bank.
We stopped for lunch under a big shady overhang. We watched a woman building a shrimp fishing "trap". She jammed poles into the river bottom and then wove branches with lots of leaves on them around the poles. Apparently the shrimp congregate in these places, and the people can come back with a net to harvest them. However, the crocodiles are also probably attracted to those shrimp...
After lunch we headed back down river. We passed many interesting eroded limestone formations along the way,
And then we were at the take out. We piled ashore, and Caesar was there to meet us. He had driven back out the way we went in, then all the way around to Bekopaka. We were delighted to see his cheery face.
Lova told us this was the first trip for these guys this year, so a tough year. He expected it would be the only trip, since the rains had started and once the rains hit, the roads to Bekopa, the take-out, become impassable. They usually each get about six trips. There are about 80 guides at Ankavandra and they rotate guiding; some didn't get any trips this year.
Our guides would spend the next few days relaxing and spending money in Bekopaka, much like miners or cowboys after a payday. Then they would load their boats with supplies they had bought and pole them back up the river.
Dona's phone didn't work after we got off the river. We hypothesized it had gotten too hot sitting in an outside pocket of her suitcase on top on the boat.
