Articles by mgedwards

Weekend at Lake Kariba, Zambia

My wife and I went on a short Valentine’s Day weekend getaway to Lake Kariba.  What an incredible not-so-hidden gem!  Few tourists have ever heard of the world’s largest artificial lake and reservoir straddling the Zambian-Zimbabwean border created in 1958 when the Kariba Dam on the Zambezi River was near completion.  Lake Kariba is usually overshadowed on visitors’ itineraries by Victoria Falls, arguably the world’s largest waterfall, as well as by numerous game parks and private reserves scattered throughout Zambia and Zimbabwe.  We think that Lake Kariba holds its own as a tourist destination.

Hippos, crocodiles, baboons, freshwater fish, and several bird species call the lake home, although they make fewer appearances than one would expect for such a large body of water. The wildlife that attracts gawking tourists to Zambia is concentrated further east in the game parks of the lower Zambezi Basin.  However, the lake does not lack for vegetation and scenic beauty.  Compatriots frequently say “don’t swim in the water!” when lake comes up as a travel destination because it’s a breeding ground for bilharzia (schistosomiasis) and lurking crocodiles.  Avoiding the water notwithstanding, Lake Kariba is well worth a visit, especially if you want to enjoy a quiet or romantic getaway with beautiful scenic lake views and a relatively safe natural environment.  While the lake offers few children’s activities, families can still enjoy all it has to offer.  However, don’t forget to remind the kids to bring some books or games they can enjoy.

We stayed at the aging Lake Kariba Inns, one of the nicer resorts in the town of Siavonga that passes as a three-star hotel.  At just over U.S. $100 per night during the offseason, the price was very reasonable compared to some of the overpriced game lodges that charge upwards of $400 per night.  The rooms are clean and comfortable, although like many rural Zambian lodges they are still infested with their fair share of unwanted critters.  The ants will carry off any food in sight, so keep it sealed.  The villas with lakefront verandas are your best bet for gorgeous views of the lake.  You might delude yourself into thinking that you’re in the Mediterranean as you lounge on your veranda; that is until fishermen pass by in their large trawlers to ply on crayfish and fish.  The resort’s amenities include a large workout gym and a poolside bar with pool table and ping pong.  The waterfront restaurant serves decent food with a decidedly Indian flavor; the Indian yogurt-based dishes are tasty.  We were disappointed that the inn had run out of crayfish, a local specialty.  The inn also has conference facilities that can accommodate groups of 100 or more.  Its Achilles’ heel is its customer service.  Some staff members are helpful while others are not, and when the buffet is being served it’s virtually impossible to get room service.

Lake Kariba Inns sits atop one of the promontories overlooking Siavonga with its private harbor ringed with boats ready to take you on an affordable two-hour lake cruise to the top of the dam and some of the manmade islands.  The lake cruise is well worth the money.  Disembark in the late afternoon an hour before sundown so that you can bask in the glow of the sunset on the shore of Sampa Karuma Island or another deserted islet on the Zimbabwe side of the lake (no visa needed).  When cruising the lake, check the weather conditions beforehand for signs of rain or heavy winds.  Although we had calm weather for most of our boat trip, the waves kicked up after sunset, and we held on as the boat rocked its way back to shore.

A number of other lodges are located in and around Siavonga.  Lake Safari Lodge, Eagle’s Rest, and Sandy Beach are also popular lodging options.  We didn’t visit any of them but were under the impression that they were comparable to Lake Kariba Inns.  For those who want to see the lake up close and personal, Protea Hotels recently launched (literally) the Southern Belle, a grand-old steamboat that operated in Lake Kariba for years before it was refurbished into a floating resort.

The lake cruise does not include a tour of Kariba Dam; to do that, drive to the Zimbabwean border (about 8 kilometers from Siavonga), park at the border post, and ask Zambian Immigration for a gate pass.  You can walk from there for good views below the dam; the gate pass will let you reenter Zambia.  The dam’s spillway usually opens fully in early February, allowing water building up from the rainy season to pass down the lower Zambezi River.  While not as spectacular as Victoria Falls, the dam is still worth a visit.  Constructed between 1955 and 1959 by an Italian company, the dam is being expanded by a Chinese firm.

The town of Siavonga extends for several kilometers in each direction along the lakefront.  The hilly terrain is ideal for short walks and hikes.  Lake Kariba Inns has a beach walk that follows the lake as well as a game walk with few signs of wildlife but great vistas high above the lake.  The streets of Siavonga are a great place to explore on foot.  We were told that the area is very safe; however, it’s important to be cognizant of safety if you choose to walk around town.

If you enjoy the outdoors but aren’t in the mood to head to the bush, or you’re looking for a great affordable weekend getaway, check out what Lake Kariba has to offer.

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Kilimanjaro, Day Six (Continued)

Evening, December 31, 2010

We rested at Kibo Hut for a few hours before midnight.  The camp is an amalgamation of permanent low-slung wooden buildings with sheet metal roofs housing workers who remain at the camp and open spaces for pitching the tents of groups climbing the mountain.  Latrines sit at the far edge of camp, isolated from the camp site to keep the smell at bay.  When we arrived, dozens of identical brightly colored, parachutesque single-person tents were already pitched in the prime camping areas; our group set up camp in the lowland below camp underneath a large boulder outcropping that reminded me of a wizened man.  Just below us lay an area unmotivated climbers had turned into an open-pit toilet.  Feces and toilet paper littered the ground, leaving one with the unenviable choice of climbing up to the smelly latrines for some privacy or relieving yourself on the open plain beneath a barely concealing rock shelter.

Kay, Tom and I bought cans of Coca-Cola from the camp management to celebrate our success thus far.  Considering that the main route, Marangu, is nicknamed the “Coca-Cola” Route, we thought it fitting that Coke was available to buy and ingest.  After a week of water mixed with Crystal Light Fruit Punch and other flavors that quickly grew stale, drinking a cold Coca-Cola in the frigid weather was a pleasant respite.  We sat and took photos of each other drinking cans of Coke.  Kay had traded her burdensome hiking boots for light flip-flops and looked very humorous drinking a cold drink with her freezing feet peeking out from her heavy wardrobe.

Waiting for our final ascent up Kilimanjaro was like anticipating the start of a major life event a la running a marathon or having your first child.  Fraught with trepidation as a first-time climber, I waited anxiously for what I expected would be the most difficult challenge of my life.  I picked at my dinner – spaghetti with gruel again — and retired to my tent and sleeping bag to rest until 11:00 p.m.  I willed my body to relax and told my restless mind to be still.  Thoughts of whether I could climb the final 1,200 meters to the top of Uhuru Peak preoccupied me.  Would it be easier or harder than I expected?  After all I’d been through over the past five days, would I succumb to altitude sickness and end up aborting the climb or find the strength to reach the top?

On New Year’s Eve at 11:00 p.m. a guide awoke me.  I realized that I had slept a couple of hours.  I wrapped myriad layers of clothing around my body to insulate it from the bitter cold of midnight. Two layers of woolen socks inside hiking boots.  Two layers of long johns under hiking pants.  Stocking cap.  Heavy gloves.  Balaclava to cover the face.  Head lamp attached to the forehead to light my way.  Trusty hiking poles.  I was finally ready to climb.  I played with the crackers and tea the cook had set at the foot of our tent for our last meal.  I said a silent, hopeful prayer and crawled out of my tent into the freezing night air.

Wisps of a light snowfall and frozen breath threw shadows across my head lamp beam.  It was a surreal moment in the cold darkness waiting in haunting silence for the climb to begin.  The guides were busy preparing Kay, Tom, and me for the climb and arranging for Betty to be evacuated from the mountain by park rangers.  We waited for half an hour in the cold to leave camp.  I anxiously paced around a clearing near our tent next to a sharp drop-off overlooking the makeshift toilet.  I peered into the blackness and saw only clouds emanating from my lungs and twinkling lights from a few of the nearby tents.  Half an hour seemed like an eternity.

Lesson learned:  Don’t be too anxious to leave camp.  Rest as much as you can.  When your guide says you’re leaving at midnight, you won’t leave early.  There’s no need to leave your tent and mill about aimlessly no matter how anxious you are.  If another climber has to be medically evacuated from the group, make sure your guide has a definite plan to get them off the mountain long before midnight so they can devote their attention to you.  The night before the summit is one time when you can and should selfishly demand your guide’s attention.

Kilimanjaro, Day Six

Morning, December 31, 2010

I woke up this morning thinking that today marked the beginning of the end of our climb.  The next two days promised to be the most difficult yet.  We would spend most of the next 30 hours hiking almost 2,000 meters up to the top of Kibo Peak and then head back down to another camp.  Before we stopped again we will have hiked over 25 kilometers, a tall order in any locale exacerbated by the fact that we would cross over one of the world’s highest mountains.  Fortunately, my prayers for physical healing had paid off.  I woke up feeling reinvigorated with little of the pain or exhaustion that had afflicted me the day before.  I had fully expected to be exhausted after yesterday’s ordeal but woke up instead refreshed from a good night’s sleep.  I wondered how long it would last and prayed for continued strength.

It was another bright, crisp morning.  Fed up with grimy hair that I had not washed since leaving Arusha, I braved the cold weather and washed it with glacier water heated over a camp stove.  Using a small bottle of shampoo pilfered from a motel, I rinsed the residue away in a plastic wash basin.  My hair let off steam in the cold air as I wicked the moisture away with my hand.  It dried fast in the intense sunlight.  My companions chuckled at the vainly amusing sight as they did when I shaved with a cheap razor on the first two days of the trip.  Contrary to that famous Billy Crystal SNL quip, looking good can make you feel good too.

Breakfast was the same as ever.  By now our palates were resisting toast, eggs, bananas, and other food items served with unwanted regularity.  To mix things up a bit, I asked the cook for some peanut butter I knew was stashed somewhere.  After a few minutes of word play and hand gestures, he finally produced the jar.  It spiced my breakfast up.  After five days of mountaineering, even basic condiments bring simple joys.

We left Camp 30 Caves for the last time and hiked four hours to Kibo Hut on the same trail we had descended the day before.  It didn’t hurt so much this time.  The incline was steeper than I remembered while sliding downhill, but I didn’t mind in the least because it was a far sight better than what we had endured on the way to School Hut.  Betty lagged behind with August, who by this time had begun carrying her day pack to lighten her load.  Kay, Tom and I went ahead.  Our spirits were brighter than they had been yesterday.  We not only felt better but looked forward to the final ascent with anticipation.  We stopped for photos, laughed and bantered, and mused about everyone who now seemed so far away.  Kay danced to the classical rock blaring on her music player, and I dared her to try pole dancing.  She fearlessly planted her hiking poles vertically end over end and began dancing around them.  Tom and I laughed hysterically.  The levity lifted our spirits.  If you’re heading for one of the heaviest challenges of your life, you might as well make light of it.

Half way to Kibo Hut my cell phone found a signal, so I sent a text message to my wife.  She was thrilled to receive my daily messages updating her on our progress.  I let her know that we were OK and wished my family a happy new year.  My family was safely ensconced miles away near another natural wonder of the world, Victoria Falls on the Zambian border.  I’ve been told that cellular providers Safaricom, Vodacom, and Tigo work at various points on Kilimanjaro but was only able to pick up Safaricom a few times haphazardly.  I never saw a cell phone tower en route, and the signal seemed to disappear at the most inopportune moments.

We made a pit stop an hour later behind the last big boulders in the area.  There are no latrines in the vicinity; if you’ve got to go, you’ve got to go behind rocks big enough to hide you and use the bushes.  Bring toilet paper with you, or you’ll have to use whatever you can scrounge on the ground.  We saw some soiled toilet paper littering the trail.  Although the sight was disgusting, I presumed that it would soon decay and that even the most environmentally conscious climber would hesitate to pack-it-in and pack-it-out.

We arrived at Kibo Hut at 2:45 p.m. and rested in our tents until dinnertime.  After yesterday’s ordeal, today’s hike was a breeze for Kay, Tom, and me.  Betty, however, was not so fortunate.  She struggled into camp about two hours after us.  I gave up my tent to Betty and so she could extra rest before the final ascent.  August had decided that Betty would have to leave two hours earlier at 10:00 p.m. in order to make it to the top by morning.  Kay, Tom, and I begin our summit at midnight.  Lamentably, Betty never made it to the top of Kilimanjaro.  Stricken by altitude sickness and fatigue, she opted to end her climb and was evacuated from the mountain the next mountain.  We wished her well and told her we would see her again as soon as possible.

To be continued…