From Bulawayo we went just down the road. A world heritage site, Matopos National Park features fascinating formations of balancing granite, 3000 odd rock art pieces tucked away in caves and some classic African animals. Another spot where our one day became two and then three! Camped among the boulders and cooking a BBQ between giant stones makes Matopos one of a kind. To sing it one more praise - in Zimbabwe we're allowed outside the car! A whole day was dedicated to walking the tracks instead of driving them as a celebration.
Klipspringers, kudu, giraffe, baboons, monkeys, impala, zebra and warthogs were spotted on our ramblings. Then we met Temba the ranger (fishing in the world heritage lake with a huge drag net to 'relocate' the fish... People are doing it tough here and hunger trumps all). From him we heard about an unbelievable opportunity. We drove about to find another ranger and lock it in. Two other Aussies showed up and jumped in on the adventure, so at 7am the following morning we all set off.
It was a little confused. Get up, pack up, find George the ranger. After much discussion in Ndebele, Ranger George gets into our car. Drive. Park. Walk. Climb a mountain. Climb back down. Walk. Get a phone call from another ranger. Drive a different way. Park. Walk. Back track. Wait. Walk. Back track. Wait. Walk. Stop. Crouch. Creep. RHINOS!!!!!
To be fair, George and his armed off-sider worked really hard tracking the rhinos on foot. Us tourist folk were lucky to make out one hazy footprint in the sand, the rangers explaining in hushed tones as we krept along, that we were tracking female white rhinos. They could tell this by their tracks, and often left us noisy stompers to wait whilst the rangers followed the spoor alone and then beckoned us along later. Eventually there was some rustling up ahead. Creeping closer we could definitely make out some grey shapes. Closer again and we could count not one or two females, but SIX enormous rhino.
A bull on the far right was not impressed - crashing about and snorting. At his unease the others also became restless. We sat down in the grass at a sign from the ranger, who started whistling. Apparently rhinos have terrible eye sight. The tunes from George calmed them down. Why it calms them is a little unclear, but one by one they settled themselves happily in the sun. With the bull still wary, we krept forwards again. And again. And again. We only stopped when we got within 3 metres of 6 wild rhinos. Nothing but some grass, a few tiny bushes and a whistling ranger between us. All at once exciting, enthralling and just plain incredible! A truly amazing 'once in a lifetime'. Hopefully the rhinos stay around for a few more lifetimes, so many others can experience the same magic. All of the ones we saw had ear tags and all had been dehorned at 3 years of age; poaching remains a big problem in a country that has so many problems to deal with.
Driving across the middle of country, there's evidence of former glory everywhere. Even road signs are extravagant. Towns feature stunning architecture, homesteads are grand and huge trees indicate once-formal gardens. It's hard not to feel a little sad about the old Zimbabwe; now crumbling and dilapidated and covered in grime. But along the way we read some history about Rhodes, Rhodesia, independence and the following woes. At Masvingo the wide streets and crumbling grandeur didn't evoke sadness anymore. Zimbabwe continues to fight some difficult battles, and in the process it's becoming it's own place. The donkeys and open markets in once-grand colonial streets almost say 'screw you' to conquerers. The people here, with their resilience, humour, kindness and patriotism make Zimbabwe great in other ways.
Nowhere is former glory more profound than at Great Zimbabwe - the ruins marking the wealth of ancient civilizations and trade routes. Like Khami, they are made of granite, only on a much larger scale. Ancient kings had gold and ivory at their fingertips, trading with Persian and even Chinese dynasties here. The sprawling city was home to some 20 00 Shona once. Gems, jewelry, pottery and the bird sculptures of Zimbabwe's emblem have all been excavated over the years. We wandered the ruins ourselves late in the afternoon, then returned the following day to get insights from a guide. What we thought were cattle yards on our unguided walk turned out to be the harem, our 'tomb' was really an enormous phallic object and our version of a defence fort was really a spiritual 'cleansing' space. A guide had therefore been a wise investment.
The road to Chimanimani afforded us views of a kind we'd not yet seen in Africa; Winding roads, green mountains, and waterfalls. At street corners and stalls tropical fruits piled up. We traded buns for juicy tomatoes, accepted a huge gift of avocados gratefully, sent kids into a frenzy when we asked where to buy macadamias (they came hurtling back with MANY!), got giant bags of mandarins, piles of bananas and even some kiwis!
There's a beautiful community in Chimanimani and nights chatting with locals beside a big open fire quickly became treasured. (We can't emphasize enough how amazing Zimbabwe's people are.) Days were spent wandering the countryside, riding horses, hiking and reading in the sun. All with killer views of mountains and sometimes even falls.
From there a red dirt swathe has been cut through the hills - little more than a goat track that twists and winds upon itself towards Mutare. Driving it, 'Scenic route' became an understatement. Every bend revealing another vista. People stared around the doors of their huts as we rumbled up the hills; a good sign that not too many cars pass through. The road grown over with grass another indicator of the road less traveled.
If the weather had caught us by surprise in Bulawayo, it shocked the shit out of us in Bvumba. After a day of driving we were in even higher mountains. It should have been expected, but the icy wind, rain, fog and frosts sent us scrambling for winter woolies, which until then had been hidden in the bottom of the car. Donning beanies, gloves and scarves we spent the day by the fire at Tony's coffee house. Hiding out, talking nonsense and eating exorbitantly rich cake (both in texture and in price tag). The next day we fled. Back to the low veld where beannies weren't a necessity.
We stopped in at Nyanga, the place of Cecil John Rhodes' former summer house. In mid-winter. Obviously the man visited in the Summer for a reason. We continued to shiver and huddle around fires, munching belly-warming porridge and lighting the donkey burner for piping hot showers between more wandering. We stumbled upon a Canadian cyclist and a trout farm. Together they made for a delightful dinner (the Canadian for company and the trout for eating).
A bustling crowd gathers when a vehicle stops at the roadside stalls. Arms holding up all kinds of goods to the windows, shouting about the wares on offer. Perched on the side of a mountain in the Honde Valley, we pulled up, wound down the window and said it was banana leaves that we wanted (to wrap our fresh trout and toast him in the embers). 6 people selling bananas pushed through those with other stuff, shoving fruit of all shapes and sizes our way. But it was the leaves we wanted. Down the way were banana plants aplenty, so we pointed and said 'green'. One lady understood and said "$1". 10 bananas are worth that much, but we said "ok" anyway. She asked us to wait while she ran home to get one. Then thought better of it and beckoned her kids to run up the hill. They weren't keen either. So she turned and shouted down the hill. Soon, an old lady came ambling up through the bushes. Carrying a whole banana tree, roots and all. The looks on the faces of us 3 foreigners in the car had the hawkers in stitches.
Girl climbed out and excused her way through the crowd, running down the hill to the old lady in the vines. Those on the road yelled, screamed and laughed in hysterics. A leaf was grabbed, and pointed to. The message was understood. The whole tree was dropped on the ground as an enormous leaf was lopped from another (still standing) plant.
Girl appeared back up on the road to much cheering and more laughter as the fresh-cut leaves were bundled into the car. Leaving the hawkers pondering what on earth they might be for, and why they were worth a buck.
Up Next: Coming full circle