A Brief Visit to Western Tanzania (Retrospective, Nov-Dec 2022)

 

February 19th, Jambiani, Zanzibar

I am slowly trying to work my way through my backlog of pending blog posts. A few weeks ago I published a how-to post about visiting Burundi, but today it's back to a traditional narrative post, about our journey up the western side of Tanzania.

The Backstory

When I was a lot younger than I am today, in January of 1981, my family moved to Morogoro, Tanzania for two years. My father had accepted a two-year contract through the Norwegian foreign aid organization NORAD to teach forestry at the agricultural university in Morogoro; he took a two-year leave of absence from his teaching post at Lakehead University in Thunder Bay and off we went to live in the foothills of the Uluguru Mountains. Although at first I didn't want to go, those two years definitely lit the spark of wanderlust that has been stoked into a raging wildfire in my adult years. I came back from that sojourn much more aware of the wider world outside Northwestern Ontario. I went back to East Africa for seven hectic weeks in 1995, visiting my sister Audie who was working as a biologist in the Serengeti National Park, then travelling to Zanzibar, climbing Kilimanjaro, Mt. Meru and Mt. Kenya, and then going to see gorillas in eastern DRC (or Zaire, as it was then) and chimpanzees in Uganda.

That was twenty-seven years ago, when I was half the age I am now. When Terri and I started Stanley's Travels in 2016, the plan was always to drive up into East Africa with our camper, but news of my father's cancer called me home, and we ended up not driving any further north than Zambia on that leg of our trip. Our 2018 trip took us only to Namibia and South Africa, and the covid pandemic in 2020 shelved our return to East Africa for another two years. Finally, on the morning of November 26, 2022, we found ourselves at the tiny border crossing post at Kasesya, crossing from Zambia into Tanzania. Although we weren't planning to pass through Morogoro, it still felt like a form of homecoming.

The Chaos of Sumbawanga

The border crossing was relatively straightforward, although we were nervous. We had been told that we needed to show valid yellow fever certificates at the border, and we had just discovered that not only was mine expired (they last for 10 years), so was Terri's. We had tried in several spots in Zambia to rectify this, but nowhere had yellow fever vaccine in stock, and so we decided to take a chance. Luckily the health officer was busy on the telephone, flirting with a young woman, and took only a cursory glance at our yellow vaccination booklets, not even opening them, so we squeaked through. We drove away, thanking our lucky stars, and trundled off down the dirt road into Tanzania.

We were at a reasonable altitude (1200 m) at the border, and I was slightly surprised that the road headed slowly uphill. It was a densely-populated area (Tanzania's population, 65.5 million, is three times what it was when I lived there, and is growing at a very rapid 3% per year), intensively farmed, full of neatly-built brick houses. We stopped for a roadside sandwich at a rare rural space between settlement, then drove into the regional centre of Sumbawanga on a really good tarmac road that started some 20 km outside town. 

A team of oxen plodding uphill near Sumbawanga

Sumbawanga was the biggest town we had seen since Lusaka, and was a bit overwhelming. We got Tanzanian shillings out of an ATM, then spent a very loud hour getting local SIM cards for our phones. It took several attempts to find a place to buy them, and several attempts to make the mandatory government registration process work. The process was overseen by a young man and woman who were full of hilarity and mirth, especially when I trotted out a few half-remembered Swahili phrases. We finally left just before sunset with functioning cell phones and found a small motel to spend the night. It was comfortable and inexpensive, but didn't have the atmosphere of a campsite in the wilderness.

The next morning we drove uphill from Sumbawanga (at 1600 m above sea level) in search of Mbizi Forest Reserve, said to be full of a subspecies of red colobus monkey. It was a depressing outing, as we drove uphill to find the area that had once been the forest reserve completely clearcut to establish farms, whose shiny metal roofs testified to their recent date. That swelling human population had overwhelmed the forest reserve, and its trees (and monkeys) were no more. Scanning the horizon and maps.me, we could see that there might be a few tiny vestiges of forest 10 or 15 km away, but we decided to cut our losses and retreat, saddened at the habitat loss.

In (futile) search of the Mbizi Forest Reserve above Sumbawanga

From there we drove for 60 blissfully smooth kilometres along a brand-new tarmac highway, with our only regret being that almost the entire way we were in villages and towns, where our speed was limited to 50 km/h. We had heard worrying stories about Tanzanian traffic police, but the two times we were stopped at checkpoints, we had friendly conversations and were sent on our way, making me think that the cops were just bored and keen to practice their English. The landscape was pretty, with rolling hills that saw us climb up as high as 1900 m before declining again gently.

At Chala, we turned off the tarmac and, after a brief traverse across a plateau, we entered a forest reserve (which actually existed this time!) and began the dramatic descent into the Albertine (or western) Rift Valley, that gash in the landscape that is filled by a series of lakes, the largest and most consequential of which is Lake Tanganyika. The road was in reasonable condition, and the forest was filled with birds and flowers and was utterly devoid of human habitation. Finally we spilled out at an elevation of 800 m onto the cultivated fields around Lake Tanganyika and made our way to the Lake Shore Lodge, an almost obligatory stop for overlanders in western Tanzania.

Lounging at Lake Shore

Lake Shore Lodge is a wonderful oasis of beauty. It's a high-end resort right on a lovely stretch of shoreline, and its rooms are beautiful and pricey. Luckily they also have a series of reasonably priced campsites, well separated and shaded, with solar panels to plug one's camper batteries into to compensate for the vehicle roof being in shade. We ended up spending three wonderful nights there, and I would have been glad to stay longer.

A palm-nut vulture at Lake Shore

It was the first time that either Terri or I had seen Lake Tanganyika, and it was an impressive sight of an even more impressive lake. I grew up on the shore of Lake Superior, the largest freshwater lake in the world by area, and so I am attracted to big inland bodies of water. I knew from many a pub quiz that the most voluminous freshwater lake in the world is Russia's Lake Baikal, but it wasn't until I looked up Lake Tanganyika that I realized that Tanganyika, not Superior, is number two on that list, despite being only the fifth largest by area. The reason for this impressive volume is that Tanganyika is seriously deep, with its deepest point being some 1500 m below the surface (and so 730 m below sea level), thanks to its position in the huge geological gash that is the Albertine Rift. It's a very long, narrow lake, some 640 km long but with the other side of the lake always visible, no matter where on the lake you are. We gazed out across the lake towards the misty mountains of the Democratic Republic of Congo, wishing it were easier and safer to cross into DRC and lamenting the loss of the legendary steamer MV Liemba which spent a century linking isolated communities along the shores of the great lake. 

Sunset over Lake Tanganyika at Lake Shore

Our idea was to borrow a sea kayak and go exploring the islands that dot the bays around the resort. Sadly, that never happened. We did manage to go swimming every day that we were there, but every afternoon the skies would darken and apocalyptic thunderstorms would roll in from the DRC over the lake. It made for dramatic sunsets, but didn't encourage lengthy paddling explorations. We did do some fun birdwatching (the exquisite gardens of the resort attracted a plethora of sunbirds), but after two days we decided that paddling Lake Tanganyika would have to wait for the dry season.

Another Lake Shore sunset, with DRC behind

We had a fun evening one night dining in the resort with the three owner/managers of the resort, a South African couple and a German man, Thomas. I sat at dinner with Thomas and we exchanged travel stories, as he is also a keen overlander and explorer of the African continent. 

Captivating Katavi

The view from our campsite in Sitalike

Lioness on the track in Katavi

On November 30th we bid a regretful farewell to Lake Shore and headed back up the escarpment out of the Rift. It felt good to regain the tarmac and pump up our tires back to higher pressure. We thought that we would be on asphalt the entire way to our next destination, Katavi National Park, but it was not to be. At the town of Kisi, the pavement came to an end and a detour sign pointed us unexpectedly to the right. From that point on the road was hardpacked, rutted red laterite and progress became slow and shuddering. We later learned that we could have continued along the "closed" road, but we didn't know, and ended up sharing the road with a procession of trucks that were either really slow or else drove dangerously quickly. The road cut through Katavi National Park but we saw almost no animals, as we were surrounded by dense bush. It was a relief to pop out in the village of Sitalike and camp in the welcoming grounds of the Riverside Camp, run by the friendly and obliging Juma. 

Curious giraffe

Intricate giraffe patterns

We spent three nights in Juma's camp, and it was a memorable place to stay. The camp is on the banks of a river that is as full of hippopotamuses as it is possible to imagine. There were an easy 300 or 400 hippos within 100 metres of our vehicle, and they spent the day submerged in the river, occasionally venting frustration at pushy neighbours in a series of noisy complaints, and often opening their jaws impressively wide to show their deadly and enormous tusks. I had never spent so much time so close to so many of these ominous animals, and I spent a long time photographing and filming them, especially at dusk as they emerged to graze on land (usually on the opposite bank).

Southern ground-hornbill

Southern ground-hornbill displaying

The plan was to spend one day in Katavi National Park and then move on. However we awoke in the middle of the night to an epic downpour that lasted until noon, so we postponed our plans for another day. The next morning dawned bright and sunny, so we pulled down our roof at 7:20 am and set off for a day of safari driving. It started slowly; we had to go to the park headquarters, on the other side of the river, to pay, and when we arrived none of the staff had arrived yet, despite it being 30 minutes after opening time. I guess when you get fewer visitors in a year than Serengeti gets on an average day, you can get a bit lackadaisical. Eventually a ranger arrived, rubbing sleep from his eyes, and checked us in at such a leisurely pace that Terri nearly combusted from frustration.

Roan antelope

Once we had paid our US$ 118 ($30 per person, $40 for the vehicle and 18% VAT; this is the cheapest national park to visit in Tanzania, far cheaper than famous places like the Serengeti and Ngorongoro), we drove back along the dreadful truck road of the day before, and then turned off into the park and its lovely bush. The main game-viewing part of the park is the Katisunga Plain, and no sooner had we emerged onto the plain than game started to appear. At first it was a plentiful supply of giraffes (one of our favourite animals to watch), but quite soon we came around a slight bend in the track and found three lionesses lounging right in the middle of the road, bellies distended with whatever animal they had recently hunted. We sat and watched them for a long time, taking photos and videos, but the lions were not at all interested in us, or in moving. When we wanted to continue, they reluctantly got to their feet and moved a couple of metres as we edged by in Stanley. It was a memorably up-close lion encounter!

Topi

Juvenile African fish-eagle

The day continued to be excellent for game viewing. We encountered numerous southern ground-hornbills, including (a first for us) some juveniles. Impala were present in great quantities, and as we moved closer to the river bank, we saw Bohor reedbuck, Defassa waterbuck, topi and typical wetland bird species such as pelicans and herons. We stopped for a snack of tea, bread and honey at the side of the track (keeping a wary eye out for any lurking predators; luckily it was a wide-open plain!), and then continued our clockwise circling of the Katisunga Plain until we ran into the impassable barrier of the river. Along the way we saw a lapwing who had picked an unfortunate spot for its nest, smack in the middle of the track, and who defended its eggs fiercely, trying to scare us off with its wide-stretched wings and harsh cries. We had to drive along the track (there was swampy ground to both sides), but we managed to straddle the nest and its tiny, precious clutch of eggs; we then had to return and repeat the process a half-hour later when we had to backtrack from the river.

White-browed coucal

We retreated to the main track of the park and followed it out to the Ikuu Bridge, on the truck road, where we stopped to admire the sheer number of hippos and crocodiles basking in the river. There were plenty of baboons lounging on the bridge as well, along with plenty of birdlife. We left the main road and continued our way along the edge of the plain, where we were rewarded with several bird species which we had never seen before: the Tanzania red hornbill, the grey kestrel, the white-browed coucal and the grey-backed fiscal. There were a number of African fish eagles, including three juveniles (again a novelty for us). Eventually, with one eye on the clock, we turned around reluctantly and saw many of the same birds and animals on the return journey, along with our first eland in years (a small group galloped across the path and disappeared into the bush) as well as our first roan antelopes in years as well. It was wonderful to renew our acquaintances with these large, powerful and rarely-seen antelope, and we drove back to Sitalike glowing in the satisfied feeling that a good day of game driving always gives us. A snack of chips and eggs and beer in a truck stop restaurant rounded out the day, and we returned to our campsite to grill up some fine steaks.

Still there, six hours later

Striking coloration on a frog at Riverside Camp

Kigoma, Ujiji and Following in Stanley's Footsteps

The long dirt track to Kigoma

From Sitalike it was a long day of driving along some rough laterite roads to reach Kigoma, our next destination. The going was slow, the distance was reasonably long (357 km) and we had to cross a range of fairly steep mountains to reach Kigoma. The forest through which we drove was often wild and dense and full of birds (parts of it were some sort of forest reserve), and I'm sure that in the future some of it will feature a wonderful campsite in the midst of untouched jungle, so that this long leg can be divided up. As it was, the sun had already set by the time we got to the centre of Kigoma, and we drove the last few kilometres out to Jacobsen's Beach, just south of town, in the gloaming. The darkness made the steep drive into the campsite even more alarming than it already is, and we were glad to turn off the ignition, pop up the roof and settle in.

Off for a hike overlooking the lake

The rocky slopes above Jacobsen's Beach

We loved Jacobsen's Beach. It's on the shores of Lake Tanganyika, only 6 km south of downtown Kigoma, but it feels remote, with sweeping views out over the lake that don't show any buildings; steep headlands prevent you from seeing the city from the campsite. It's an oasis of native forest, surrounded by clearcut properties, so it feels like a wildlife reserve. There's even a semi-domesticated zebra who hangs around the campsite, hoping to have his mane brushed (as the campsite staff do) but also randomly attacking campers; one camper, Lilli, was badly bitten by the zebra, while I got chased and headbutted by him. There are plenty of vervet monkeys around as well, so luckily both of the campsites have a kitchen fully enclosed by heavy-duty screens that's fully monkey-proof; the monkeys are always on the lookout for raiding opportunities, and are really quick.

Lovely views out over Lake Tanganyika

We ended up spending five nights at Jacobsen's, splitting our days between lounging at the campsite and going to town. When we were at Jacobsen's, we went hiking in the boulder-strewn hills above the lake, swam in the idyllic waters of the lake, took out a pedal-boat to explore nearby bays, watched birds in the trees and cooked up feasts in the kitchen. Every evening we sat on our private beach and watched the sun sink into the forests of the DRC, across the deep blue waters of the lake. It was pretty idyllic and hard to tear ourselves away from!

The stroppy zebra at Jacobsen's Beach

Lake reflections

We had one big day in town, getting Burundi tourist visas at their consulate in town, a process that was expensive (US$ 90 per person for a 30-day tourist visa) but amazingly quick and painless. We had a big tandoori chicken lunch in an Indian restaurant in town, and then drove out to Ujiji to pay homage to Stanley's more famous namesake. It was in Ujiji, in November 1871, that Henry Morton Stanley, a young, ambitious reporter and would-be explorer, found the legendary explorer and missionary David Livingstone, from whom no news had reached England in almost two years, uttering the catchphrase "Doctor Livingstone, I presume?" We drove out to Ujiji, paid the steep US$10 admission fee and listened as an old, keen guide regaled us with his well-rehearsed spiel outside at the monument to the exact meeting spot (under a mango tree which has since fallen down, but whose descendants grow everywhere around). There were two monuments to Livingstone and Stanley, and another to Speke and Burton, who passed through Ujiji 13 years before, en route to searching for the source of the Nile. The museum is pretty modest, but did have some good maps and a rather elementary-school diorama of the meeting. It was surprisingly emotional to see this historic site given how much Stanley's Travels looks to Henry Morton Stanley.  

Stanley meets Stanley in Ujiji

Myself and Terri at the Stanley-Livingstone Monument

We took lots of photos and video, then headed back to Jacobsen's Beach through the run-down streets of modern Ujiji. Ujiji was the main town of the region in the late 1800s and was a centre of the slave trade, but its water sources were always dodgy, and fluctuations in the lake water levels led to the German colonial administrators choosing nearby Kigoma as their port and railhead in the region, leaving Ujiji in suburban obscurity. Sic transit gloria mundi.

Stanley, Terri and Livingstone in Ujiji

We also took care of an important piece of bureaucratic business that was hanging over our heads. We had squeaked into Tanzania by luck when our yellow fever vaccination record wasn't checked, but we couldn't count on that continuing. We had asked in various towns along our route in Tanzania to see whether we could get vaccinated, but we had struck out every time. Kigoma, though, as a major port with a lot of Congolese traffic and passengers passing through it, has a port health officer who checks Congolese passengers for their yellow fever cards, and administers vaccines to those who haven't had it. We found him (after a long and tedious search through the back streets of Kigoma, all of which were under construction) and when he examined our vaccination certificates he said that Terri was fine as her vaccination record had no end date on it (and the WHO has stated that the vaccinations are now considered to provide life-long immunity), but that my vaccination, from the same facility in the same year as Terri's, had to be re-done since the health officer in Switzerland had written an end date on my card. I had to wait for a couple of days until there were other patients to share the vial with (each vial provides up to 5 doses). I got a message late one afternoon and raced into town in a tuk-tuk auto-rickshaw to get jabbed; it was a relief to have that taken care of.

Another plaque at the Stanley-Livingstone meeting point

We met some interesting fellow travellers in the campsite and in the cottages at Jacobsen's. The most interesting was Lilli, a German woman who has spent much of the past 30 years on the road in Africa. We swapped stories and Facebook addresses, and we have been in touch ever since for advice and to share experiences. Many other overlanders we have met also know Lilli, who is a bit of a legendary figure, and has even featured in several YouTube interviews, such as this one. It was a lot of fun to discuss adventures and misadventures of the road beside Lake Tanganyika.

Yet another perfect evening beside the lake

Mother and kittens taking over Terri's chair

One of our favourite memories from Jacobsen's was made in the last two days of our stay, when a local stray cat which the staff had been feeding and who had taken a shine to us wandered into our kitchen enclosure, made herself at home in Terri's camping chair and then slipped out and under the floor of the kitchen. She returned with a tiny newborn kitten, like a fuzzy cinnamon roll, and deposited him in the chair. She made two more trips, and soon she was seated in the chair with the three blind babies crawling over her in search of milk. Terri was captivated (as was I) and we spent time making sure that the mother cat was fed and would continue to be fed in our absence. It was an unexpected touch of home, and made us miss our own ginger cat, now living with our housekeeper in Bali.

Cinnamon buns with legs

Off to Burundi

All good things must come to an end, however, and so it was with our time beside the mighty lake. On December 8th we packed up, said a fond farewell to the campsite and the kittens, stopped off in town to buy a few final supplies, and then drove east and then north, climbing steadily up into the cool mountains from the lowlands around Lake Tanganyika (780 metres above sea level). Within a couple of hours of leaving Kigoma, we were being stamped out of Tanzania and into Burundi, starting a new chapter in Stanley's Travels (and ticking off a new country for both of us).

Farewell, Lake Tanganyika!