After a couple days out of signal range – we bring you the adventures of the Old Legs who are paddling from Milibizi to Kariba in very small kayaks over a very large expanse of water. All their efforts are to raise funds for the struggling pensioners in Zimbabwe and make their lives a little easier.
Paddling From Milibizi to Kariba – Day 3
On every Tour you have your Eureka moment when you realize that there is nothing else you’d rather be doing, and no one you would rather be doing it with. You are having the best time of your life.
On the Crocodile Tour, I thought my Eureka moment would come between Lion’s Den and Chinoyi on the drive back to Harare, after having set fire to the HMS Inedible. But my Eureka moment happened early on Day 3 on the leg from Binga to the start of the Chete hunting area.
We started paddling at 07.30 and incredibly, I was on time. And even more incredibly, we had the wind and the waves coming at us from behind. I know Kariba weather to be fickle and to change on a Tickey, but our tail wind blew us all the way to Sigarira hunting camp. It was glorious and we flew.
I had no idea you could use the words kayak and exhilarating together in the same sentence. Billy taught us how to ride the bumps, the small two-foot swells that were running with us at about 8 k.p.h. You have to paddle like crazy to catch the wave as it surges past you, and then you have to lean forward slightly as you crest, and then you get to sit back and just enjoy the ride.
With Jack Johnson and the Florida George Line playing loud on my speaker, Ryan and I were way out in front, playing like kids in the snow. It was such fun.
Until Dave Frank almost ran me over in his catamaran. Apparently Yachts don’t have brakes, especially when their main and jib sails are flying. I had to scamper for safety after Ryan warned me that I had a yacht looking to ramp me. I’m going to buy Dave Frank a foghorn hooter for Christmas.
Debate raged around our fire that night about who has right of way, sailors or paddlers and pedestrians. I don’t know my maritime law but I’m going with the biggest boat wins.
Ryan is paddling the HMS Penga – a 5.2 meter Cruze touring surfski out of Carbonology. It is a thing of beauty and incredibly light, mostly because it has no seat, just a bum-shaped hollow . Because he is a trail runner, Ryan’s bottom is soft and pampered and almost died on the hard seat. So I gave Ryan the seat out of my old Yellow Submarine, in return for all his jelly babies all the way to the Skeleton Coast.
I tried to do a similar deal with Mark Johnson, offering him all my instant oats on Tour plus my mothers top secret instant oats recipe, but got nowhere. Mark Johnson is a tough nut.
We lunched on the beach in front of the Sijarira hunting and fishing camp. It is the longest beach in Kariba complete with miles of golden sands and Pamela Anderson would have felt right at home, apart from the baobabs and the fish eagles. Overlooking the massive bay that stretches away as far as the eye can see, it is quite the prettiest bush camp I’ve ever seen. I want to go back there for weeks and not catch fish. I am a very crappy fisherman .
After lunch and a snooze, we had to paddle across the massive bay that stretched away in front of us forever. But with the kindest tailwind still in place, we made good time to our overnight camp in the Sengwe bay on the edge of the Chete safari area.
We paddled 33 kilometers today in 6 hrs 22 minutes, my longest paddle ever.
Mark Johnson struggled manfully all day, courtesy of a bout of flu given to him by Ryan. Which he has now passed on to me. What a load of bollocks. I’ve avoided the flu all the way through the Coronavirus pandemic, but am now paddling Kariba with a nose running faster than Usain Bolt. I know I will paddle all day tomorrow trying to figure out how much snot can fit in one head.
The Sengwe bay is lousy with crocodiles, but so far I’ve not seen a single hippo, apart from the one dead one, which is weird, like not seeing sheep in New Zealand. But I expect we will start bumping into them sooner or later, unless they are extinct.
We are paddling to raise money and awareness for Zimbabwe’s pensioners. Please help us help them by following the donate prompts on www.oldlegstour.com
Until my next blog from somewhere west of the dreaded Sengwa basin, enjoy and avoid being run over by yachts – Eric Chicken Legs de Jong.
* Names and images may have been changed for privacy reasons
If you are already a ZANE donor, we thank you from the bottom of our hearts. If you are not a donor but would like to be, please follow the link below and know that every donation, however big or small, goes directly to where it is most needed. If you would like to help but can’t donate, please join the ZANE family and ‘like’ or ‘share’ our posts or write us a Google review – every positive step helps spread the word about the life changing work ZANE does.
Thank you – Nicky Passaportis ZANE Australia
Please donate to support pensioners struggling to survive in Zimbabwe
Any assistance is greatly appreciated and goes a long way to giving our pensioners a better quality of life and lift the pressure of money worries which is very debilitating emotionally.
(Donations made to ZANE in Australia, are tax-deductible)
Paddling From Milibizi to Kariba – Day 4
Once water, yachts, paddlers, kayaks and more bloody water have been eliminated, I Spy With My Little Eye becomes rather limited when played whilst paddling kayaks on Kariba. Billy Prentice won most games. I think he could be psychic. Mark Johnson on the other hand was continually asking for clues In his defence, he was feeling sick.
Mark paddled with some dreadful flu, which had him sweating even before he started paddling at 07.30. Because he is a generous giving person, he gave it to me. If only he would do the same with his jelly babies. Alas.
Even worse than paddling when you are sick is paddling with Mark when he is also sick, because he is a stubborn bastard ,and you know he is never ever going to climb onto the support boat, which means you can’t either.
I blame Kevin O’Connor. Kevin gave Mark some pills first up that had Mark paddling fast like Usain Bolt and that will have him failing his end of Tour urine test. The other thing that had Mark paddling fast was the sheer joy of it.
We paddled out of camp and on to vast expanse of water that is the Chete Sound at 08.00, half an hour late because both Andy Lowe Evans and Greg Hall had to effect emergency repairs after their rudders fell off. I am not for one second suggesting sabotage, but both of them are bloody annoying when they come whizzing past you like they’re paddling downhill.
Once we were under way and after just 4 quick rounds of I Spy With My Little Eye, we were into vicious side chop swells angling into us from our port side, a.k.a. our left side. The swells were big, maybe 2 to 3 meters, unless Mark is narrating, and but for my HMS Inedible, they would have been scary and unsettling. Instead, they were exciting and exhilarating. I now love my Tsunami 145 because I know it can take whatever Kariba throws at it, including hopefully the dreaded Sengwa basin.
For every kilometer we paddled, Billy paddled two. He zigzagged all morning, first ploughing uphill against the swells, so he could turn around and surf them back again . It looked like huge fun, but I was too busy just trying to stay afloat to even think about joining in.
Ryan joined us on his surfski, the HMS Penga. He’d been on the support boat looking for cellphone signal to get the blog out, but with no luck. If anyone reading this knows Strive Masiwa, please tell him that his service sucks.
Ryan’s surfski is lighter and longer than our touring kayaks, way quicker and way more tippy, especially in the big swells, and Ryan almost capsized 4 times in the first 5 minutes . Climbing back onto his boat in water that rough would have been impossible. Ryan was panicked and about to call for the support yacht to uplift him when Billy came across and gave him surf lessons, teaching him how to use his paddles as stabilizers keep from capsizing.
Ryan has excess energy and he throws every last bit of it into everything that he does. He is also strong like a horse. Mark and I were able to laugh as Ryan whizzed past us time and again with paddles windmilling around his ears like he’d paddled into a swarm of bees, having the time of his life.
If we were rocking and rolling in the heavy swells on our kayaks, the support team on the yachts were doing it even harder. Dave Frank lost his radio overboard in a giant swell. Jenny said she never got off her hands and knees once all morning. I worry about Jenny. We are just 4 days into our incredible voyage and she is swearing like a sailor, especially when she bangs her head on one of the many poles on board the Halcyon. For the life of me I don’t understand why sailors don’t wear riding helmets.
We had a quick wee stop on a sandy beach before entering the Chete Gorge. Even though I’ve dropped my rental rates to just $4 a wee, I’ve had no takers for my portable urinal, Big Blue . I worry I might have to drop my rates further.
Paddling through the Chete Gorge was one of the most epic things I’ve done, up there with riding through Mana Pools, up there with riding to the Tjolotjo Cliffs in Gonarezhou. The Gorge is 150 meters wide, 87 meters deep, and even then walls of the Gorge tower high above on either side. The sheer volume of the water, and the power of it are immense. The sight of the Zambezi River rushing through the Gorge in full flood before Kariba was built must have been a sight to behold.
Greg Hall depressed me hugely while we paddled through the Gorge. I asked him why we haven’t seen any hippos yet and he thinks it is because of poaching pressure.
The thought of poor bloody hippos dying in snares so pisses me off. The government are supposed to be Zimbabwe’s custodians. They are supposed to protect the country, her people and all her resources, including poor bloody hippos for future generations to enjoy. I so hope Greg’s poaching theory is wrong and have all my fingers and toes crossed that we bump into hippos around every corner, even though I know I am going to be bloody terrified of them. Alas.
We will have to change crew rosters on the support yachts tomorrow. Because Dave Frank is man down with malaria, Les Hall will skipper the Biriwiri with John Stanton as First Mate. Likewise Cathy Stanton will be First Mate on board the Sanyati. Thankfully we have a doctor on board, so Dave Frank is in good hands.
We are paddling to raise money and awareness for Zimbabwe’s pensioners. Please help us help them by following the donate prompts on www.oldlegstour.com
Until my next blog from somewhere closer to the dreaded Sengwa Basin, enjoy – Eric Chicken Legs de Jong
* Names and images may have been changed for privacy reasons
If you are already a ZANE donor, we thank you from the bottom of our hearts. If you are not a donor but would like to be, please follow the link below and know that every donation, however big or small, goes directly to where it is most needed. If you would like to help but can’t donate, please join the ZANE family and ‘like’ or ‘share’ our posts or write us a Google review – every positive step helps spread the word about the life changing work ZANE does.
Thank you – Nicky Passaportis ZANE Australia
Please donate to support pensioners struggling to survive in Zimbabwe
Any assistance is greatly appreciated and goes a long way to giving our pensioners a better quality of life and lift the pressure of money worries which is very debilitating emotionally.
(Donations made to ZANE in Australia, are tax-deductible)
Paddling from Milibizi to Kariba – Day 5 and 6
Good news. Hippos aren’t extinct. One of them has just popped up right in front of Mark Johnson in his shower and laughed at him.
We bumped into our first hippos of the Tour as we paddled into our night stop at the Chibuyu Fishing Village. We tap tapped our way into the harbour cautiously and an inquisitive pod popped up to watch us in. They were very chilled but we gave them the widest of berths anyway. I think most hippos are chilled, until you piss them off. Hippos are much larger when seen from a kayak.
I am typing this blog after lunch on Day 6 in a pretty cool place. I have fish eagles and White-faced whistling ducks overhead and another two pods of hippo in front, plus a giant croc cruising past, complete with bow waves.
Apparently the croc is one of many man-eaters resident in the bay. That they are man-eaters doesn’t surprise me. I’m also watching some fishermen paddle a tin boat across the bay towards us using their hands and no paddles.
There is also a herd of cattle and goats grazing across the bay. Cows and goats look out of place on the Kariba shoreline.
We are overnighting in the Sengwa Sound, unexpectedly. The Sound is home to two massive tree lines, forests of petrified mopane, both kilometers long. They are every sunset photographer’s dream. They are every sailor’s nightmare. We were paddling through the first tree lines with the yachts motoring behind us, when one of the skippers punched two massive holes into his hull with nautical precision. The catamaran started taking on water alarmingly.
We are taking epic to ridiculous extremes on this Tour.
I think I must have been an Italian sea captain in a previous life, because my first instinct was to sound the abandon ship alarm. Clearly Greg Hall wasn’t previously an Italian seafarer.
With a croc watch perimeter in place, he pulled on a diving mask and dived under that yacht to explore the damage. The holes were well below the water line. We pulled the plug on paddling for the day and headed shore to look for shelter so we could winch the yacht out enough to expose the holes and patch them with glass fiber.
We’d had more drama earlier. We were on the Sinamwenda Sound when the weather blew up in our faces, like a bomb. We went from paddling on water like glass to battling 6 foot waves inside of 10 minutes. Kariba weather is fickle. It is all about onshore winds that build as the day gets hotter. And with the winds, you get waves.
The waves we got caught up in were huge, four foot or more, and coming at us side on. Five paddlers took cover behind the yachts headed for the shelter of a large island. The sixth paddler broke the rules though, and raced ahead, full of youthful exuberance even though he is the oldest kayaker on Tour. We soon lost sight of him amongst the waves and had to send a yacht after him to chase him down. Thankfully all is well that ends well.
And hats off to the people at Wilderness Systems who made my Tsunami. Never once did I worry in the waves. It truly is the Swiss Army knife of kayaks.
That sixth paddler has asked that he remain nameless, because Billy’s wife will kill him if she finds out was him. At his subsequent Dick of the Day trial, Billy put up an eloquent defence pleading temporary insanity brought on by the hot African sun, but to no avail. Billy looks good in the D.O.D. tutu and hat.
On to matters more serious, I worry about my Big Blue urinal buisness plan. We have been on Kariba for 6 days, and I’ve had not one taker.
Rather than make the killing I was looking to make, I’m now just trying to break even. I’ve even launched a special Piss Now, Pay Later deal, and still no customers. I blame Vladimir Putin and Coronavirus and wish they would stop messing with the world economy.
Our plans for tomorrow have changed drastically . We still have 10 kilometers of tree line in front of us which the kayakers will paddle unsupported, while the yachts sail around. Hopefully we will rendezvous at McKenzie Camp before tackling a big stretch of open water to get us to our planned night stop at Paradise Island. We have all fingers and toes crossed that the winds and waves aren’t too cheeky. And if they are, we’ll have to enjoy another half day and look to make up on our rest day.
I am very excited about paddling through the tree lines tomorrow. In the half-light of an early morning heat haze, they are eerie. Hopefully the water will be like glass. We’ll paddle no talking, no music, with every sense heightened, listening for hippos, watching for crocs, with hearts in mouths and on the edge of our seats. Apparently and according to one of my books, you never feel as alive as when you are almost not alive.
We are paddling to raise money and awareness for Zimbabwe’s pensioners. Please help us help them by following the donate prompts on www.oldlegstour.com
Until my next blog, enjoy and paddle a Tsunami if you can – Eric Chicken Legs de Jong
* Names and images may have been changed for privacy reasons
If you are already a ZANE donor, we thank you from the bottom of our hearts. If you are not a donor but would like to be, please follow the link below and know that every donation, however big or small, goes directly to where it is most needed. If you would like to help but can’t donate, please join the ZANE family and ‘like’ or ‘share’ our posts or write us a Google review – every positive step helps spread the word about the life changing work ZANE does.
Thank you – Nicky Passaportis ZANE Australia
Please donate to support pensioners struggling to survive in Zimbabwe
Any assistance is greatly appreciated and goes a long way to giving our pensioners a better quality of life and lift the pressure of money worries which is very debilitating emotionally.
(Donations made to ZANE in Australia, are tax-deductible)