Having been on the water for over a week now – the Old Legs are still going strong. Follow their days 7 to 10 escapades while raising money for the old people who need support in their daily lives and to know they are valued.
Paddling from Milibizi to Kariba – Day 7
For the record, the official score reads Sengwa Basin 4 – Old Legs paddlers 1. We came, we saw and we got clubbed like seal pups, apart from Billy Prentice.
The Sengwa Basin has loomed large like Mordor in the Lord of the Rings since before we left Milibizi with every mention preceded by the theme music from Jaws. It was always going to be our toughest leg on Tour. And because we’d retreated the day before after holing one of the cats in the first tree line, our longest day would be 6 kilometers longer, plus we would paddle unsupported for most of the day, just to make it even more interesting.
Plan A had the fleet of yachts tacking around both tree lines to meet the paddlers at McKenzie Point on the east of the Basin. If we weren’t there for whatever reason, Plan B would kick in and the yachts would track back on our path until they found us. We even had a Plan Z for extreme emergencies, using the Sengwa croc farm as a point of evacuation. Alas, as it happened, our best laid plans of mice and men also got clubbed along with the seals.
At first light the paddlers headed back into the forest of dead trees fully loaded with enough sandwiches and snacks for an army, while the yachts set sail for the deep waters of the Basin.
We were 5 paddlers. Because his surf ski the HMS Penga is notoriously tippy in big waves, Ryan was promoted to deckhand and tree stump watcher on board the Sanyati for the day.
The paddle through the 10 kilometers of Sengwa tree lines was epic with no music, no talking, tap tapping for hippos, and with eyes wide open for crocs. As compared to the day before, the water through the tree line was rough, which made croc and hippo spotting tougher, ditto tree stump watching. Tree stumps banging into the bottom of your kayak sound horribly like hippos attacking. I clocked my highest heart rate of the Tour at 143 beats per minute sitting still in my kayak, straining every sense, waiting on hippos and crocs.
When eventually we emerged from the forest, we headed to shore for a welcome pit stop and to stretch our legs, before striking out across the Basin to rendezvous with the yachts. I turned my music on loud for the first time and we enjoyed an impromptu dance and laughed that Mark Johnson has absolutely no rhythm.
We spotted one of the yachts on the distant horizon tracking towards McKenzie Point. I was going to eat my sandwiches, but stupidly didn’t, deciding instead to eat them at McKenzie Point. Alas. My sandwich box never made it to the other side, along with my sunglasses, and half my other stuff, including my phone. I am typing this on a borrowed phone.
We were 500 meters offshore when the waves started building from nowhere. And within minutes, we were in the middle of a maelstrom, paddling as hard as we could, but getting nowhere fast. According to my watch, I was paddling just 2 kilometers an hour. We paddled alongside trees full of cormorants clinging on for dear life, too frightened to fly away, lest they end up in Gokwe. I had to hang on to my hat with my teeth.
My first panic attack happened when I lost my lunchbox complete with sandwiches and snacks off my front deck in a big wave. I was down to a packet of Jelly Babies and 3 Fizzers for sustenance. Because they are jolly nutritious, I started with the Jelly Babies. Bugger. They were soaked and slimy and impossible to hold. I schlurped less than half and lost the rest. Rather than risk losing the Fizzers, I ate them with wrappers on.
In front of me, Greg started taking on serious water as the waves crashed over his bow. He was paddling without a splash cover. In his position, I would have abandoned ship, kayakers first, women and children next, but Greg had the presence of mind to grab the bilge pump off the back of Andy’s kayak in the surf and pump like crazy in between paddle strokes. But there was no way he was going to win.
By now we couldn’t hear ourselves shouting over the noise of the wind and the waves. Mark thought he heard instructions to turn and head back to shore and almost lost his boat fighting to get his nose around in the surf. A wave grabbed him and suddenly he was 300 meters past us heading in the wrong direction at speed before he realized he’d misheard.
I looked up and the yacht that had been on the distant horizon fifteen minutes earlier was now suddenly right in front of us, rocking and rolling in the heavy surf. It was the Biriwiri with John at the helm, and Les and Cathy clinging on for dear life. They’d come back to look for us.
I have no idea how long it took to paddle out to the yacht but seemingly, it took forever. Greg was the first off his kayak and on to the boat. I was next. I find it almost impossible to climb out of my kayak and onto the yachts in flat water. In those waves, it took no time at all. Mark and I collapsed on trampoline of the yacht like beached jellyfish while Greg went to help John steer the yacht into McKenzie Point now 6 kilometers away.
There was no way we were getting Billy off his kayak and on to the yacht so he paddled in behind us. Billy lives and trains on the open ocean in California.
The yachts had been scattered as soon as the big winds and waves first hit them and there was no sign of the others. But we soon passed the Halcyon on her way out to look for the Biriwiri and the paddlers, with Jenny clutching on for dear life, with the Magic Carpet and the Sanyati not far behind.
Our lunch stop on McKenzie Point was all war stories. Ryan said he almost died more than once on board the Sanyati, and wished he’d rather paddled instead. But just as well we had him onboard the Sanyati though, because their outboard motor jumped off the transom twice and he was the only one onboard strong enough to wrestle the motor back up.
With 40 kilometers of fetch, that’s the term sailors use to refer to the expanse of water over which the wind can build, the Sengwa Basin waves can get to 3 meter plus. I have no idea how big our waves were, but they were every bit as big as the waves in my nightmares. Andrew Chadwick had the waves at at 75% of Kariba maximum, while Billy allowed they were ocean rough.
After a 2 hour lunch stop mostly spent hugging dry land with all my might, we got back into our kayaks and paddled another 10 kilometers to our night stop on Paradise Island. Mercifully, the waves had died right down.
So we owe the Crocodile Tour 6 kilometers. But I have no problem whatsoever coming second to the Sengwa Basin. Andy Lowe Evans and I have only been paddling since December.
Apart from having rubbed a second hole in my bottom, and almost losing toes on both feet to either leprosy, frostbite or too much wet for too long, I remain in good health, but still no sign of any Popeye muscles as promised. Alas.
Apologies for a blog almost as long as our longest day. But today will go down in the Old Legs books as one of the most epic on record. I hated big chunks of it but loved the physicality of the challenge. And I am still happy with our decision to paddle from Milibizi to Kariba against the prevailing wind and waves. Climbing up Mt Everest is way more epic than climbing down it.
If you happen to be in Kariba on the 18th, please be invited to join us on our last leg from Sampakaruma Island to our finish line at Lomagundi Lakeside. Our plan is to arrive by 14.30.
I would like to thank and acknowledge Mark Lawrence of Crispy Fresh and the Cutty Sark Hotel for help with the logistics, plus Probrands for breakfast oats, milk and delicious fruit juices.
Apologies the blogs are getting to you late but we have struggled with no cellphone signal the length of the lake.
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.
* 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 – Days 8, 9 and 10
I am blogging to you from Gordons Bay, on the shores of the Matusadona National Park.
I can see the lights of Kariba across the lake as I type. There are twice as many lights on in Zambia as there are in Zimbabwe. I remember not so long ago when Siavonga was little more than two badly stocked bottle-stores. It has grown hugely while Kariba has stood still. Alas.
We have spent the last 10 days centimetering our way towards Kariba. Centimetering is like inching, only slower on account of being shorter. Apart from Billy Prentice from America who still works in inches, which also explains why he goes faster than the rest of us.
My last blog came to you from Paradise Island, on the Binga side of the Kota Kota Narrows.
The 8 kilometers through the Narrows turned into an almost 4 hour slog with wind and waves in our faces the whole way. At one point my watch pointed out that I was paddling under 2 k.p.h. Perversely, I enjoy the physicality of slogging. I think I might need to see a doctor about that when we get home.
We eased through the Chiunga Gap into the Sibilobilo Lagoon and enjoyed instant relief from the pounding. It was like we were paddling on a different lake.
We met our first elephant of the Tour just afterwards , up close and unconcerned. Billy especially loved soaking up the moment in his kayak with the massive bull elephant just meters in the background. Billy is loving his latest African adventure and can’t wait to share Kariba with Holly and his daughters.
We also met Wayne Moss, our 7th paddler in the Sibilobilo Lagoon. Wayne was fashionably 7 days late for the Tour because of unavoidable commitments in Harare. He chartered a houseboat to come out and meet us so he could start paddling. But because Strive Masiwa and Econet think they will fall off the Earth should they venture past Bumi Hills, we were like ships passing in the night in the Sengwa Basin even though it was daylight, and Wayne overshot us, reaching Chungu fishing village the day after we left. The fishermen pointed him back towards Kariba and Wayne found us after 6 hours of backtracking.
Wayne is very bleak that he has missed more than half of our best ever adventure. He is especially bleak that he didn’t paddle the Sengwa Basin and is begging me to consider a 2023 edition of the Crocodile Tour. Watch this space.
With apologies to Bear Grylls, my bottom and I luxuriated on the porcelain fittings on board Wayne’s houseboat, and also might have accidentally turned on the hot shower whilst standing under it.
Because all the pressure is off us post the dreaded Sengwa Basin, we were able to paddle the length of Namembere Island slowly like tourists, just enjoying the sights and sounds of wild Africa. We now know that the Crocodile Tour is in the bag, done and dusted. I especially had doubts that my typist’s arms would cope.
Richard Stubbs found us the perfect overnight spot in an idyllic bay on the north side of Namembere Island complete with a resident herd of elephants, until the elephants charged off trumpeting and with ears flapping. Elephants don’t much like sailboats.
We counted 17 elephants on Namembere, and many more on the Bumi Hills shoreline as we paddled towards the Matusadona. We paddled alongside eland and zebra, warthogs and impala, massive flocks of Spurwing geese and other water birds, and the hugest pods of hippo so far. I didn’t see any crocodiles. Luckily I only ever seem to see crocodiles when I am standing on land or the deck of the yacht.
I am so happy to put out positive reports on the wildlife. Matusadona remains one of Africa’s premier wildlife destinations, thanks entirely to the efforts of the conservation teams like the Bumi Hills Anti Poaching Unit, Africa Parks, and Musango Safaris.
The infamous Bumi rollers rolled in on cue as we paddled into the Ume river. They were small fry as compared to the waves in Sengwa basin, but Wayne was able to fall off his surf ski nonetheless, becoming our first capsize statistic of the Tour. The Ume river is no place to go swimming and Wayne was back in his boat in a heartbeat, but not before polluting the river. I think his anti-crocodile defense strategy is centered on the premise that they would rather not swim in stinky waters.
We were hosted at Musango Safari Camp by Steve and Wendy Edwards. It truly is one of the best wildlife camps I have ever stayed in. And what charming and gracious hosts. And the food was that good I worried that I wouldn’t fit back into my kayak. Please be sure to put Musango at the very top of your bucket list destinations.
Steve Edward is one of Zimbabwe’s most highly regarded professional guides. Worried that we have become complacent over the last 10 days, we asked him to give us a refresher safety lecture on the crocodile threat. Steve told us that we would be paddling through some of the highest population densities of the crocodile and hippo in Africa. Their Musango bay was home to some absolute dinosaur crocodiles that have accounted for 11 people in the last 2 years. After Steve’s safety lecture,, I was rather keen to stay at Musango and photo shop the remainder of the Tour.
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
In closing, a big shout out from Mark Johnson to grandchildren Oliver, Pia and Daisy. He loves and misses you lots
Until my next blog from Sampakaruma Island – enjoy and paddle if you can, but don’t get eaten by crocodiles – 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)