Shoebill Island & Shiwa Ng'andu - Zambia

Each year hundreds of people make the arduous journey to the Bangweulu Swamps to see birds, but one bird in particular, namely the amazing and very rare Shoebill Stork also sometimes called the Whale Headed Stork. Ever since as kids Sue and I had  collected the PG Tips 'Birds of the World' cigarette cards, we had both wanted to see this extraordinary bird.

There are very few places in Africa where you can see the Shoebill, Zambia being one of three, so we didn't want to miss out while we were here.

Getting to Bangweulu isn't always easy and most people go on fly in guided tours but it is possible to self drive providing your totally self sufficient and have an adventurous spirit. From Kasanka your on dirt roads virtually the whole way traversing the area where the great David Livingstone met his maker.

Livingstone's heart is buried under a simple cross at a place called Chipundu and the first part of our journey would take us reasonably close by but as we didn't know how long it was going to take to reach Shoebill I was outvoted and we gave it a miss but we or at least I hope to go visit it on our way back next year.

By midday we were passing Lake Waka Waka (must have been  named by a Scouser!) where there is a very pretty campsite, totally deserted when we passed by. Following Chris's GPS co-ordinates we reached the scout post at Lulima by 1.30pm, here they check you in before allowing you to drive onto the Swamps. They obviously don't get many self drive tourists as we were the source of much curiosity both to the ranger and the local Toto's.

From here you follow the track through small villages before striking west towards the causeway to the swamps at Chikuni. Chris describes the track at times resembling little more than a footpath and he's not wrong, you just have to keep faith with his directions and keep going through the bush.

Eventually we emerged out of the bush onto a wide plain and were amazed to see hundreds of antelopes, Black Lechwe (so called because of their black legs). We have seen their southern cousins the Red Lechwe many times but these were the first black ones we had seen and they looked lovely in the late afternoon Sun, an added bonus.

We arrived at Shoebill Island Camp at around 3.45pm just over five hours after leaving Kasanka, not bad by our normal journeys. We were met by Dora, a friendly Swiss lady and David a surly Zambian, it transpired Dora has not long been out there as manageress and David's nose has been pushed out.

Unfortunately though, David is the only one who knows where the Shoebills are so like it or not we are stuck with him. Most guests stay in the camps own tired looking Meru tents which didn't' have that nice a view. The 'public campsite' for those who are self sufficient is however surprisingly nicely situated looking out over the swamp. Mind you having a single reed Lapa to cook in and one reed shower & loo (long drop) it is only really big enough for one party at a time so we were lucky there was no one else there, but again it's not that frequently visited by self drivers like us.

Justin our local camp helper was on hand to heat water for the shower and make the camp fire otherwise we were left to our own devices which suited us fine. That night we had a lovely Sunset with a view of the floodplain and Lechwe grazing so we  celebrated with Gin Riokeys and a chicken stir fry. Later it was pretty windy and quite chilly so we were thankful for the fire as we looked forward to our search for the Shoebill tomorrow.

By 6.30am we were up and ready for the off, David arrived with a young guy, Mantuco and we discussed the plan for the day. It seems the fisherman who live in the swamps all year round had recently discovered a new nest with two adults sitting on a single egg however, there was also another nest with an almost grown chick in it but no adults about.

It was clear David was not keen on going to see the new nest with the adults as he kept saying it was a good hour and half's drive through the bush, i.e. too much hassle, whereas the nest with the chick was much easier to get to.  Before we can agree on which it's plain he has assumed we will go see the chick and sets off  however, we haven't come all this way without seeing an adult so we bitch a bit about we would at least like to attempt to go to the nest with the adults. David suddenly stops and turns round asking how much money we have on us because if we want to go to the new nest he will need to give the fishermen who are keeping an eye on it some money, oh yeh right!

As it happens we don't have a cent on us, you don't go carrying your dosh when all you expect is to go wading through swamps! He hasn't any money on him either or at least not enough so we turn round and race back to camp where he jumps out to get some cash. He then asks have we got food and drink with us, er well no actually, so we jump out and pick up some more bottles of squash and crisps, eventually at 7.30, an hour after we started we head out of camp again, talk about a balls up.

David drives like a demon across the bush, bumping along around termite mounds and ditches, no tracks at all. One thing he has an uncanny sense of direction as even though he's weaving in and out we are according to the Garmin following an almost perfect straight bearing South West.

After more than hour of bumping through the bush we arrive at the edge of the swamps and park up and almost immediately the fishermen emerge as if out of nowhere. They are obviously very poor as their clothes, what there is, are very ragged and dirty but even this poor they still have shed loads of kids. After the initial greetings it very soon becomes clear that Shaka, the headman, is pissed off with David as an argument ensues. While Shaka rants on David just stands and lights up a roll your own cigarette using a bit of newspaper for paper and hands the tobacco and newspaper to Shaka obviously looking to placate him.

It seems David was supposed to pay Shaka some money for reporting the nest and to keep a watch on it (transpose that as protection money!) but David hadn't paid up or he said he had but he'd given the money to Shaka's brother, Uncle, nephew or someone (not too clear) who had immediately buggered off and not been seen again (probably in the nearest town getting laid and pissed) so Shaka still wants his cut!

Eventually after much arguing the situation settles down and David tells us he, Shaka, Shaka's son, Mantuco and a little guy we instantly nickname Chesney will take us to the nest. By now we have also given David the nickname of Dog's Arse so the party is Dog's Arse, Shaka, Shaka's son, Mantuco, Chesney and us.

The first bit of the trek is not so bad as we stalk through tall grass but pretty soon we are wading through the Swamps in pools of water up to Sue's knees below which is a smelly gluttonous black mud. Our sandals are constantly nearly sucked off our feet so soon, Bilharzia or not, we give up and go barefoot.

After half an hour we suddenly arrive at the nest area except we of course don't know this! The first indication is when an adult Shoebill suddenly takes off from the reeds right in front of us. Dogs Arse and Shaka must have known we were close but they had carried on bumbling in without saying a word, after all the effort to get here we were not best pleased. Amazingly for such a massive bird it was gone in a flash so all we saw was a mass of blue grey plumage.

The nest as they said had one lone egg on it and we were surprised that it was on edge of the tall Papyrus reeds and not that hard to see. Shoebills nest on the ground in a lose affair of twigs and reeds so it was not shaded much at all. We were concerned about the egg being left uncovered and overheating so after a quick photo we retreated a little way off to a tree island where we could keep watch to see if the adults returned. We crouched down and waited and waited.. eventually Mantuco pointed out a dot on the horizon flying over the reeds, it was an adult on its way back.

Everyone got down as low as they could, Dogs Arse said if the Shoebill spotted us it would fly away again. Slowly it came closer but just when we thought it was going to come down it must have spotted something cos it wheeled round and disappeared again over the reed bed .. bugger. Dogs Arse said our clothes were probably too bright but Sue was in beige and I was in a neutral stone colour, it couldn't have been him smoking and chatting to Shaka in his blue shirt could it!   

Eventually after another long wait one of the adults came into sight but this time landed someway off in the reeds. Dogs Arse signalled for me to follow Mantuco to see if we can get closer for a photo but not for Sue to go. Sue's look at that moment was just like Sybil's in Fawlty Towers when she confronts Mr O' Reilly the cowboy builder Basil has hired and my first thought was for Christ sake please don't smile Dogs Arse! Shooting him a glare which even he understood Sue follows me and Mantuco.

The thee of us creep as quietly and slowly as we can, we can just see the top of the Shoebills head poking up above the reeds so it must be huge (they can stand up to 1.4m tall) as the reeds are high.  But these birds are extremely nervous and it suddenly takes flight again, I just have time to squeeze off one shot with the telephoto then it's gone.

The locals show no concern whatsoever but we are becoming concerned we are putting the egg at too much risk so we tell Dogs Arse we are ready to leave.  When we get back to the car we say our goodbyes to Shaka and family, leaving the kids all our squash which sends them wild till Shaka shouts at them and takes his cut ... poor little sods. It's 2.30pm when we get back to camp filthy and absolutely knackered, after eight hours trekking through disease ridden swamps we ended up with just one snatched photo of a bird in flight and some photo's of an egg and nest, nothing for it now but to go see the chick tomorrow.

Next day we rose at 6am to a beautiful sunrise and Lechwe grazing close by. A large party of Germans had flown in while we were out the day before so the arrangement is Mantuco will take them in the camps vehicle and we will follow in Rupert, by 7am we are off and running.

An hour and half of bush bashing across a vast plain later we stop and park the vehicles up. From here it's a trek again through the swamp but this time although it's not as far as yesterday's walk it is much more muddy. Although there is only eight of them the Germans produce a hell of a racket as they walk, they seem incapable of talking quietly and after yesterdays experience we are worried that they will frighten the Shoebill off.

We needn't have worried as we rounded a corner there sitting in a nest was the most extraordinary bird we have ever seen. When people talk of a chick you think of an immature bird which looks little like its parents - not so the Shoebill, here was a huge prehistoric looking creature whose head and bill already looked massive, not bird like at all.

The chick was almost full grown but still unable to fly (hence Mantuco's relaxed attitude to the noisy Germans). Therefore it was still  dependent on the parents bringing it food but we were told their visits were becoming less and less frequent which apparently is their way of encouraging the chick to fly off and fend for itself.

What followed was more like a paparazzi photo shoot than wildlife photography as the Germans jockeyed to get as close as possible. The chick was unable to move so he just hunkered down and looked scared.

Head on a Shoebill with its stare looks quite intimidating and indeed they have razor sharp mandibles. It is said a lot of people want to see one so they can stare it down, god knows why, but what is true is they are so rare they are probably the most sought after African species for ornithologists.

Their main stronghold is the Sudd in Southern Sudan, a vast floating mass of reeds which formed a natural barrier across the Nile to the early explorers. But apart from there and one swamp in Uganda and one in Tanzania, Bangweula is the only place you can see them.

Mantuco had worked his way to the side of the nest and he started shaking the bush next to the chick to get him to open his bill, some of the Germans were egging him on but it was clear the chick was getting stressed so I shouted at Mantuco to stop and to his credit one of the Germans agreed but the others looked at me as if to say what's your problem?

It dawned on us just how exploited these birds are and also how vulnerable they are, indeed some are killed each year by the locals as bush meat or sold off to collectors who pay a high price. Because of where the live they are incredibly hard to study so I don't think anyone really knows how many there are but estimates of a world total have been given as less than 10,000.

In the end it was a relief to leave the chick in peace (at least until the next party goes to see him tomorrow) for us we would leave in the morning to see another African oddity and one extraordinary mans dream, Shiwa Ng'andu.

Shiwa Ng'andu survives as a testimony to the sheer guts and determination of Stewart Gore-Brown yet another of those extraordinary stiff upper lip Brits who flourished during the Victorian period.

Gore-Brown first came to Africa in 1902 ostensibly to serve in the Boer War and later returned in 1911 as a member of the Anglo-Belgian Congo border commission when the 'scramble for Africa' was in full swing. His job of travelling through the bush marking out the borders of the present day Central and East African countries suited him well as he was an adventurer at heart.

On his way back to England at the start of WW1 he travelled through present day Zambia towards Tanzania and 'discovered' a beautiful hidden lake named Shiwa Ng'andu (the 'Lake of the Crocodiles') by the local tribe (the Lake in those days contained many huge crocs, mostly since shot out).

He instantly fell in love with the place and negotiated with the local Chief to buy the land around the lake, the story is how over the next 50 years he tried to 'civilise' he place by building a manor house which would not look out of place in leafy Surrey.

His story and that of Shiwa is well told by Christine Lamb in her  book "The Africa House" so I won't attempt to re-tell it here, suffice to say it is a great tale of one mans determination to build a 'kingdom' in a very remote part of Africa and how it affects his personal life.

As usual we were up just after daybreak but after packing up and paying the bill we didn't leave camp until 8am. By 10am we were at the Chiundaponde scout post, less than 40 miles away,  the tracks here are very narrow and choc-a-bloc with settlements so your constantly dodging people and various domestic animals.

By 12.50 we finally reached the tar road to Mpika, at least now we could make better time but just outside Mpika we hit the obligatory police roadblock. Usually as a Mzunga they just stop to chat or waive you through, however, this time the young cop wanted to check us out which meant licence, lights, horn etc. All was ok until he asked to see the reversing light work and then bugger me it wasn't working. It had been fine after we fixed it up at Kasanka so I assumed it was a loose connection but when I looked I could see the bulb had blown.

Plod of course was gleeful as he now had a gilt edged excuse to 'fine' us, but luckily whilst he was dealing with another driver I  managed to do the three card trick and swap the bulb then with a bit of sweet talk I convinced him it was just a loose connection and so he let us off.

Unfortunately though, it had delayed us and we still needed to change money before we left Mpika and if possible try and buy new spare bulbs for the indicators as following our discovery at  Kasanka we had none spare, we managed to do both but it was 4.30 by the time we reach Shiwa. 

When Gore-Brown died in 1967 the estate passed to his daughter Lorna and her husband John Harvey. By then it was already in decline and it was an uphill struggle to keep it going. Then in the 1990s the Harvey's were mysteriously murdered in Lusaka and the estate passed to Lorna's son Charlie Harvey except for Kapishya Hot Springs (reputedly Gore-Browns favourite spot) which went to her other son, Mark Harvey.

Nowadays you can stay at the manor house which is still lived in by Charlie and his family but it costs over $350 per person per night! We had to be a little more modest so chose camping at Kapisya, still on the estate but about a 20 minute drive from the house.

On arrival we were met by Mark and he showed us to the campsite, he also has a small lodge here but as the campsite was empty and very nice (not to mention much cheaper, $10 p.p.p.n) we felt we would be better off there.

Next day we drove to the manor house to do a tour of the house. This is not cheap at $20 each and it only takes place at 9am and only when the family and any guests staying in the house are either having breakfast or are out. It is advertised as a tour of the house, Gore-Browns grave and a view of the lake but as we found out 40 minutes later once we finished with the house to see the other parts you are expected to self guide and drive yourself around - which we felt was a bit of a con.

On our way out we bumped into Charlie, wife and assorted guests who looked like they had been out riding. Except for Charlie they completely ignored us plebs, mind you the guests  sounded like a gaggle of hooray Henry's so it was a blessing in disguise.

We drove up into the hills to Gore-Browns grave and the graves of the Harvey's murdered in Lusaka. It is a lonely place and rather unkempt place but it has a magnificent view of the Lake. Gore-Brown was named Chipembele (Rhino) by the locals because of his quick temper (he quite often beat his staff) and by all accounts was much feared when roused but at the same time he was quite caring and liberal building good houses, a school and a hospital for his estate staff and the surrounding villages. At it's height Shiwa employed more people than anyone else in Northern Rhodesia over 1000 families, so on balance it has to be said it was quite an achievement considering the remoteness and obstacles.

Back at Kapishya we chilled out in the natural hot springs, (no wonder old Gore-Brown loved this spot) a little oasis of clear warm spring water surrounded by Palms and other tall trees, sitting in the springs is like having a warm bath outdoors. Better still the place was deserted so we could relax with a few cold G&Ts - absolute bliss.

Our next stop was to be South Luangwa in the SE of Zambia then on into Malawi. However, by visiting Shoebill and Shiwa we had strayed quite a way NW and in Zambia there are no roads to take you across the country. Our only choices was to trek all the way back to Lusaka then head out East to Chipata, a trip we didn't relish or continue Northwards a short way then cross the country through a new route opened up via the North Luangwa National Park.

This was our preferred option, however it had drawbacks, first as it's a National Park even though the public road traverses it you have to pay a transit fee which is steep at $US 60 for you and the vehicle. Second Chris in his guide book said you really need two fully equipped vehicles to do it safely and as usual we were on our todd.

However, we definitely didn't want to traipse all the way back South to Lusaka, a good two days journey even on tar, so the N Luangwa route it was. The plan was to blast through the park and hope to reach the outskirts of South Luangwa, maybe even Mfuwe in a day but it would be a long day of hard driving.

Up at 6am we broke camp and reached the main road by 9am, 20 minutes later we reached the turn off to North Luangwa. From here we would be on dirt road till we reached South Luangwa 250 miles away.  At the entrance gate for the park we had to pay the transit fee and note they will not accept $1 bills or bills printed before 2001!

There is a community campsite at the gate called Natangwe but we didn't stop to check it out but there are no campsites whatsoever in the park. There only three camps in the park are  all upmarket, at least price wise. One is Buffalo which is also owned and run by Mark Harvey, our erstwhile host at Kapishya. Mark had left for Buffalo the day after we arrived at Kapishya but had mentioned we could drop in and stay overnight at Buffalo on our way through if we wished however it would cost us $95 p.p.p.n for just B&B so we declined. 

We had been into North Luangwa a few years before on a fly in trip organised by Sunvil Africa. Then we had stayed at Mwaleshi a remote walking camp on the banks of the Mwaleshi river in the Southern part of the park

It had been idyllic just ourselves and one other couple Richard & Julia (it was hard not to call her Judy by mistake) and Dorian one of the young white guides who grow up in Africa but go to public school in the UK. It turned out Julia was an ex PA to Prince Charles so we anticipated getting some interesting stories but Dorian, good guy as he was, had clearly been in the bush too long and with a total lack of guile just plunged in and began  quizzing Julia about Charlie and Princess Di.  Julia of course was naturally reticent to divulge anything, at least until she got to know us better, but that's another story.

The road through the park it has to be said is pretty uninspiring, even tedious, and is surprisingly mountainous and winding at the start. It is rough but in the dry quite navigable in a single vehicle but even so it was 1pm by the time we reached the turnoff for the upmarket camps. At this rate we had no chance of reaching South Luangwa before dark.

An hour and a half later we reached the banks of the Luangwa river which marks the Eastern boundary of the park. Even though it is virtually dry at this time of year you can only cross it via a pontoon. The first problem was finding the bloody pontoon as it was not where you arrive at the river bank but about a half a mile upstream!

The pontoon was on the other side of the river and looked deserted but eventually we could see a ranger walking along the other bank towards us. The Luangwa is wide so we had to resort to shouting across to each other, it seemed the pontoon is operated by a couple of guys who had gone off for a siesta so the ranger would have to go get them. He also said if we fancied it there was a place where we might be able to drive across but in the same breath asked if we had a winch which made us think it would be more prudent to wait for the pontoon.

Mind you that was not a particularly appealing prospect either, first of all you had to negotiate a very steep bank at the end of which was a very short rickety affair of rough wooden poles half submerged in the river which served as a jetty of sorts.  Rupert is very heavy, especially when fully loaded and I was worried that the whole thing could take it, one thing was sure if it didn't then we would really struggle to reverse back up the slope plus there was no way to turn around, so it was all or nothing!

Eventually the pontoon crew turned up, two surly looking characters, clearly unhappy at being woken, and it started over towards us. I walked down the slope to check it out, even walking it was difficult to stop yourself being carried forward by your momentum, it wasn't going to be easy in a 2000+ kg truck.

The pontoon was nearing the shore so now was the time to find out, gingerly in low range 4WD I started over the bank edge, it was so steep I could not see where I was going over the bonnet but had to trust to Rupert. The wooden raft that served as the jetty as I feared sank as soon as the front wheels touched it so quickly I gunned it shooting up onto the pontoon.

The only thing preventing the pontoon drifting downstream was an old steel hawser strung across the river, fixed on each bank to a tree. Luckily the river was low but I wouldn't fancy this in the rainy season, mind you, you probably cannot reach it then anyway. On the other side the pontoon ties up to another rickety jetty but this one is 20 feet or more short of the bank so you have to drive off and wade through the river and out onto a deep sandy shore where you still have to fill in forms to prove you have exited the North Luangwa park!

Finally 40 minutes after arriving at the pontoon we were on the move again. The route to South Luangwa is via a little used dirt road which would take us through another small national park called Luambe. Here at least as the road is gazetted we would be allowed to transit free of charge. The drive down to Luambe is long and we didn't know how long it would take to transit the park but we knew if were to stand a chance of being allowed in we would need to be at the gate no later than 5pm - we arrived at 6.40pm in complete darkness!

To top it all as we neared the gate we came across a young Leopard on the track. This is always the way, you rarely see Leopards but we always seem to come across them when we are rushing to reach somewhere, vis a vie Kutse in Botswana back in March. Sadly it was too dark to take a photo but half guessed the gate would be closed we watched him for a while until we reluctantly decided to push on.

As suspected the gate was in total darkness as we pulled up but pretty soon we were surrounded by a load of people from the huts and houses close by. Eventually one of the rangers showed up and confirmed he couldn't let us transit the park tonight but there was a lodge a few kilometres inside the park which we could drive to if we wished - this sounded ideal until he also confirmed we would have to pay park fees as well!

We had given it our best shot but we would just have to call it a day here. We asked if we could camp outside the gate and enter the park in the morning and thankfully the ranger agreed. That night we became the main entertainment as what seemed like the whole village gathered round us in the dark to watch us put up the roof tent, make a meal and have a drink. You couldn't see a soul unless your torch caught them in its beam but we could tell from the constant giggles and chatter that we were not alone and our every move was being scrutinised!

Eventually at around 9pm we must have become boring and they left us to go to bed, 30 minutes later we joined them. It had been one hell of a day but at least we had broken the back of the journey and in the morning we could take a more leisurely drive to Mfuwe. Tomorrow we would be next to Zambia's premier game viewing area and one of Africa's great national parks, South Luangwa.