Nyika Plateau No place for Agoraphobics

Nyika means place where the water comes from and at an average of 2300 it’s easy to understand why. Possibly the most unexpected thing about Malawi has been the diversity of landscape. When people hear you are going to Nyika the common response is, “you’ll feel like you are not in Malawi. Maybe somewhere like Scotland”. As I’ve never been to Scotland I have no reference but the term Emerald Isle springs to mind. Nyika Plateau has multiple biomes, with plants, birds and butterflies that only exist within that particular block. This makes it a detestation point for an eclectic group of species hunters. Twitchers, lepidopterists and general nerdy type characters. Even the good old Zebra is a sub-species of the Plains Zebra. No shadow lines. Defined and quite mesmerising.

To get there involves a trip on a blue road (tar) that turns out to be more like a thin grey line. I’m learning that north of the Limpopo blue roads on a map may not be tar at all. Most have never seen the sticky black stuff in their life and probably never will. The gateway, last fuel stop, is a Rumphi. After consulting my books and trusty Prof G I decided on an eco lodge only to find that it closed for business 2 years ago. The guard at the gate said they only had accommodation for bosses,but to wait and he’s find out if I was one. Turns out I’m not a Boss so recalculating.

Malin Lodge. Set in the heart of the burbs (envisage Damsebos), Malin was a “formal” Lodge and conference center. The rooms were clean, there was hot water a wall mounted fan and best of all an eye catching blue mosquito net. As usual the staff were charming so when I heard the sound of beautiful singing the front desk ladies interrupted their hair dressing activities to accompany me to the nearby church.

The Presbyterian ladies praise and worship group was busy with their Wednesday evening meeting. The singing worthy of a trip to America’s got talent and their prayer sessions would rival any Doom spraying prophet. I sat at the back and watched enthralled as the prayer team moved from person to person. It seems the aim of the prayer is for the recipient to be so overwhelmed that they collapse. Hence the team approach. One lady prayed enthusiastically while the others took turns catching and gently placing the congregants in a recovery position.

Can’t say I haven’t mixed up the experiences on this trip.

Apart from the blue roads that turn grey , signposting can be a puzzle too. Below is an example of a big fat blue road on the map. Fortunately I was taken by the school motto on a notice board so stopped for a Photo. One of Dad’s mottos was “forwards, never backwards”. Perhaps you need to add this caption to your arrows Nicholas. “Forwards Ever. Backwards, Never”.

Turned out to be a lucky stop. The side by side photos show the way I assumed the signboard suggested would take one to the Malawi Zambian trans-frontier park. Not so. If you look closely at the bottom of the board there is a tiny peeled off arrow pointing to the right hand fork. The left hand fork takes you to the hospital as indicated by the signboard on the right hand side. Unexpected?

Snowden from Mulanje had told be to request White as a guide. He didn’t disappoint. An extremely cautions knowledgeable and gentle guide always on the alert for wild beasts that may disturb our game of birds. We traipsed through undisturbed indigenous forests, barren rocky outcrops and thick grassland. My ultimate was to spot the red tufted sunbird in the proteas. Both are unique to the outcrop of jaggered rocks in the photo below right.

As we approached White explained the locals called these rocks the”udder” rocks because that’s what they look like. Pardon. “You know the udders. Can’t you see how the rocks look like udders?” Seriously? “You know the sneks like the night udder.” Shew what a relief, the adders.

There is always a trade off. So I’d swapped 30+ degree heat and stinging insects for gale force winds, 12 degrees but no stingers. A welcome respite. I seriously look like I have the pox.

At the campsite, Paterson ensured a continuous supply of hot water for the showers and made a roaring fire for each group at night. Possibly the best thing was the shady hut and table at each site. What a pleasure. May even be able to convince Mick to camp again in this luxury.

Bushbuck live under the wattles and pines that surround the camp. Reedbuck and Roan plod a path back and forth for you to view as you sit contemplating, well not much. All peaceful and serene until darkness falls.

We’d been told about a lion that had cruised over from the Zambian side. Nyika also has the highest density of Leopards apparently plus a set of tyre chewing hyenas. Yikes. When you drive around it seems impossible. You can see for miles and there really isn’t much game. Poaching is definitely a thing in Nyika. But, there is no mistaking the sound of a lion clearing his throat on the other side of your flimsy tent.

Paterson assured me the lion was far away. Sure……………….. On the last night I was alone in the camp when the roaring started. Next thing here comes Paterson waltzing along by the light of a dim torch. He’d been visiting in the staff camp about 2km away. Are you crazy? “Donty wollie mam. The lion he is far away”. Next morning the prints recorded far away as the road in front of the camp. 70m.

As I said, Nyika attracts the nerdy specialists. Enter the lepidopterist group. They had driven on a yellow road ( major error of judgement) from the Zambian side. It cost them two days. The trailer was toast and their newly fitted extra fuel tank had “fallen out”. Their Sandton 4×4 will certainly have a good story at the next pavement parking gathering.

The old chap was in bad shape with a dose of bronchitis. James’s warning to take extra stuff for handouts (didn’t listen) rang in my ears but I duly dished out my emergency antibiotic. Turns out he has myasthenia gravis just to complicate things. He decided to have a rest day in camp while the other two took off in search of specials.

When I got back from my early morning outing he bounded over. “I notice you have boots on. Would you like to join me for stroll”. So in the heat of the day, hotter the better for butterflies, we set off into the veld in front of the camp. Oh boy this butterfly game is complicated. You have to know the host flowers too, and some trees, lichen and a load of other things. My companion, a retired professor , tried his best to cram 60 years of information into a 2 hour walk.

Strange, very strange but incredibly interesting. They map, catalogue and do gene sequencing and all kinds of fancy scientific things to expand the knowledge on each butterfly.