Destination Angola
"If at first you don't succeed, try, try again. Then quit. No use being a damn fool about it."
WC Fields
We had spent just over 6 weeks getting to this point and it seemed time was ticking fast. A 3 month trip, such a generous amount of time when we left home, had now shrunk to 6 weeks, maybe only a month if we left time for hiccoughs and the trip home.
How did that happen? As one of the main destinations for this trip was Angola, we were feeling under pressure to start the new adventure. We had no plans, no bookings and, quite frankly, no idea what to expect.
Senyati
From Zim we headed for Kasane, or rather Kasangula and one of our favorite spots at Senyati camp.
We have stayed there a few times. The campsite is well organized, if a bit expensive with rather unfriendly staff. Maybe they were having an off day.
The stand out feature is the sunken elephant hide which always holds out a promise of excitement and close up and personal elephants.
When you cannot fit an elephant in frame with a 15 mm lens you are close!
Sadly the waterhole has a horrible orange light at night which shifts the priority after dark from taking photos to drinking gin.
In addition Kasangula has a thriving small business and workshop area and we had car issues, as usual, that needed to be fixed. Those rough Zim roads had taken their toll.
There were tyres to repair, issues with loose screws and bolts. Gas to fill. The wing mirror and gas holder had shaken off and my door was about to fall off its hinges. Ian’s seats were threadbare.
We rolled into Mario’s workshop, a guy who had saved our bacon previously, only to find he had died in Covid. Another stark reminder of the Covid toll. Frankie, one of his mechanics, was however happy to help, Dudley put on his Toyota togs and got down to work with him. Ian found a guy working out of a container in someone’s back yard who made amazing seat covers for us.
We shopped and cleaned and sweated, pulling out all the bedding and anything that was not nailed down. We rubbed and scrubbed and polished.
2 days of frantic action punctuated with elephant encounters, G&Ts at the waterhole and pizzas at the bar. The others arrived back from rafting at Vic Falls full of their adventures.
Zimbabwe had been tough and intense so some of the crew felt the need to slow down and meander, but that would leave us with even less time to discover how to unlock the secrets of Angola. We scratched our heads and decided to split for a while.
Vicky and Mike would stay around Kasane and investigate Chobe and then the Caprivi and follow us in a week or 10 days. The rest of us would go ahead. It was a tricky plan as we had no idea where we would be in a week or so, no matter how hard Vicky pushed me to provide a detailed itinerary. Oh well, it would all sort itself out in time.
The plan was agreed. What plan said the elephant?
Caprivi
Next day we rolled out en route for the Namibian border. Vicky and Mike set off for Chobe. I was jealous but knew we were making the right decision.
The problem with safari is pretty much everywhere you go you want to go back. Again and again. It means eventually you get nowhere fast unless you stay focused.
The road was tarred and fast and easy but we were so badly prepared we did not even know where to cross the border.
We had decided collectively we should head for Luengue-Luiana park in the south east of Angola. It is part of the largest contiguous protected area landscape with National Park status in all of Africa. Luengue-Luiana alone is over 42000 km2. It is also notoriously remote and difficult to access.
Ideally we should have crossed from Barotseland in Zambia but there are FO warnings about landmines on those routes and so it seemed unwise. Only Carmen was keen. That left Caprivi.
Caprivi is famous for the Carmine Bee-eater nesting and breeding but we were not in season for that spectacle.
Along the shared border with Angola there are around 8 crossings and we wanted the one furthest East to limit any back tracking. We had heard the Angolan roads were bad.
We visited the borders in turn starting with Susiwe but were turned away. At Divundu they sent us 30 km south to the Botswana border to get an exit stamp where the immigration staff just laughed at us. Part of the problem was even the officials did not know.
What I have since realized is, although there are many border crossings, most are not gazetted. There are plans in place to open more of the border posts to boost Angolan trade and tourism but it is still a work in progress. If a border is not gazetted it cannot be used without special permission.
Eventually we accepted we would have to cross at Rundu, even though it was 300 km in the wrong direction.
Looking over the Kwando river between Namibia and Angola
It was getting late and our lights were not working. A loose wire or fuse probably, we don’t drive much at night if we can help it anyway, so we decided to make camp and we drove into Shamvura camp, about 125 km from Rundu.
What a find. A beautiful camp in large grounds with a lovely couple Charlie and Mark who welcomed us. On the river edge it overlooked Angola so it felt like we were almost there.
We had a large well equipped site with a our own ablutions and our own kitchen so camping was easy. They were friends with a guy called Stefan van Wyk who runs a reserve, Cuatir, in Angola and encouraged us to visit him. They said he had recently introduced elephants. We already had his name from Carmen’s online research and the recommendation of some Swiss people we met in Zimbabwe, and had sent him an email for advice. We pencilled him in for our second stop if all went well.
First Impressions
Next day we rose early keen to get to Angola and see it for ourselves. We rumbled down a dirt track to the border. It was quite an unprepossessing border post. On the Angolan side we joined the queue at immigration. I asked for 30 days but the immigration official got it wrong and gave us 15. Everything is handwritten here. A distance of a few meters changes the language landscape completely. English is poorly spoken or understood.
I had Portuguese google translate but it also seemed to be unintelligible. The more we insisted she had given us the wrong visa, the worse her English became. The queue behind us grew and grew.
Eventually I offered them all a sweet to keep them smiling. I gave the immigration lady a handful but it did not sweeten her up much. With bad grace she scribbled on the passports illegibly. ICE would have a field day here. Only in Angola.
We gave up and moved to customs. The customs officials were looking for food to eat and we shared some fruit. They looked at the cars quite closely but I think more for curiosity than anything else.
Most people were walking across the border, not bringing cars. There were a bunch of Vespa taxis picking up the pedestrians, and their luggage, and buzzing off down the road in a cloud of dust.
First stop was Calai to get money and maybe a SIM card. Unfortunately it was Sunday so it did not go well. The ATM would not deliver on any of our multi country cards and the shops were shut. No fuel in sight.
Oh well. We set off gamely for the Luengue-Luiana park. The road was supposed to take us back east along the border and then inland to Likwe and Jamba. The GPS gave a rather alarming time frame for close to 500km to our destination, and it seemed likely we would not make it in one day.
We made slow progress on incredible deep sand with bumps and swerves through thorny sand veld. We had glimpses of the river and there were scattered settlements but no shops or schools evident.
These people were clearly living from the land and resources looked scarce. They had some cows and goats. Grazing was scanty. They watched us with puzzlement and I think they see few visitors on this route . There were very few cars. We made slow progress, best speeds were barely 25 km/hr and often less than 10. No money, no sign of fuel and a road from hell.
We pushed through until 4 ish and reached a village called Dirico. The road had a lot of odd shaped holes around it which looked remarkably like old mortar hits. That or UFOs had landed.
We wound our way into the town and were flagged down by the police. They were also a bit flummoxed by us but inspected all our papers. By then we had given up any hope of making even the first town on our route, Macasso.
On our present progress the road to the park would take 4 days in each direction and we really did not feel we wanted to spend that time on the road. Especially one as bone jarring as this one. Also we still had no money and no idea where to get fuel.
We decided plan B was in order. We would turn back west towards Stefan’s reserve and leave this beautiful and remote park alone for now.
The central fountain of Dirico. No water but some pretty ferocious wildlife. Since the long border wars it is likely this is as close to a wild animal the people here will ever see. Transport was mainly by donkey and vespa but we found some beautiful horses tethered in the centre of town. Probably the mafia boss's house!
We wild camped along the road having found no sign of any accommodation. It was a lovely spot, quiet and remote, and we were undisturbed.
Near Catastrophe
Next day we turned back the way we had come. We stopped for some breakfast on the road. There is no traffic so stopping in the middle of the road is not really a hazard. We did discover we had spent 2 days driving on the wrong side however. That’s because we had been the only car.
Sonia, Ian and Carmen were laughing because the back of the beast was rolling and shaking dramatically on the road and on inspection we found the bolts attaching the cab to the back were sheared. The back of the car hung down at a very precarious angle.
Now we could not carry on without repairs. We drove on eggshells. We were heading back to Rundu. The quickest trip to Angola ever.
ian and Carmen shot into Calai en route to try and get some Angolan cash. At 900 Kwanza to the dollar they came out with a shopping bag of small denomination notes.
They also returned with the news that fuel was ridiculously cheap and could be found in cans in peoples back yards. Hmmm that sounded a bit dodgy.
Manic relief on reaching the border!
At the border we had another tussle with the immigration. Our friend from yesterday was still manning the desk. She was put out by the fact we had caused such a fuss for a 1 month visa and we were now leaving after 1 day. She folded her arms and refused to stamp us out until her boss came and forced her. The body language was sizzling. By now she had lost all her English! We forfeited all the fees and taxes.
We found a fabulous truck repair shop in Rundu, Advanced Truck Repair. This is the normal experience in Namibia, they have a great work ethic and quality of work. They were prepared and eager to work straight away. When they jacked up the car they found the chassis was actually fractured so we were lucky to have made it. They welded a plate and 4 hours later we were bolted on and ready to roll.
We found a spot on the river at Kaisosi lodge with big grassy stands and a welcoming bar and restaurant. Too much wine was consumed. We were committed to another entry into Angola but would travel another 200 km to the next border post. We hoped for an improvement in road quality but we met a guy who had driven through that day who had taken 12 hours and had 4 punctures en route. Eish!
By this time Stefan had responded to Carmen’s emails, welcoming us to his reserve and giving us some more directions. At least we knew where we were going this time.
There is no car rescue in Angola
Next morning we locked and loaded and the car would not start. You could argue we were never meant to go to Angola. Just to put in perspective there is no car rescue in Angola, you are on your own. The insurance only kicks in to repatriate you if you manage to get yourself and your vehicle to the border. It was a risk.
Nevertheless we were committed.
Back to the truck repair shop who said we had a loose connection. They showed us how to override it with a couple of wires.
After breakfast and a game of cards we turned our noses north again. We have learned how to hotwire the car, a useful life skill. All in a days travel. We hit the road headed for Angola. Again.