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Duncan Murrell - A Whale of a Time

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Duncan Murrell - A Whale of a Time

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50 images Created 26 Feb 2013

Madagascar Journey

I started my epic journey at Madagascar’s largest sea port, Tamatave, and my first destinations were Isle Ste Marie, and Antongil Bay for the humpback whales and the Masoala Peninsula, the largest area of intact lowland rain forest remaining in Madagascar. I wasn’t prepared for just how exposed the long uninterrupted coastline on the east coast is, and I quickly fell victim to the huge ocean swells and the incessant surf pounding the exposed beaches. Landing and launching my fully laden, heavy kayak with a large open cockpit was going to be a regular challenge; I nearly lost everything on my first landing. I kayaked along stretches of isolated coastline that were completely off the beaten track and encountered people that had probably never ever seen any foreigners before. I found the people to be very curious about me, friendly and hospitable, but a little shy because it was a new experience for them.
I suffered a series of accidents along the way that left me with many debilitating sores that were very slow to heal. It was difficult to find adequate nutrition along the way for the physical demands of my journey. I was shocked not only by the de-forestation and habitat destruction that I encountered, but also by how degraded the marine habitats and coral reefs are; every morning I witnessed large numbers of local people walking all over the reefs, and foraging with sticks in a very destructive manner. I was also somewhat dismayed by the Masola Peninsula where I encountered a lot of intrusive slash and burn farming within the boundaries of the supposedly protected forest.
I suffered a very bad leg infection whilst exploring the streams of the Masoala Peninsula and had to paddle around the exposed outer coast under great discomfort to try to get to a doctor in the nearest town, Antalaha. Getting in and out of the abrasive, fringing coral reefs, that were being constantly pounded by heavy surf, presented me with the most harrowing of kayaking challenges along the way.
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  • What an auspicious start to my trip! I had already made one false start leaving too late in the day and having to head back to the relative shelter of Tamatave. The next day I paddled 20 miles along the completely featureless coastline, and all I saw was a continuous, steep beach, with the big swells of the Indian Ocean crashing down onto it. I couldn’t see any ideal places for making a safe landing so I had to just go for it, come what may. I monitored the sequence of waves and made a dash for it at what seemed the safest point. I managed to get through the surf but as soon as I hit the beach and jumped out of the kayak the next wave broke into the cockpit and the powerful undertow started to drag my heavy flooded kayak back out to sea. The alarm bells were already clanging away inside my head, along with the thought, “Here’s another fine mess I’ve got myself into!”<br />
I instinctively started grabbing bags out of the kayak and hurling them up onto the beach while either my feet or knees were desperately anchoring into the abrasive shingle, but I was still being dragged around mercilessly by my unruly kayak. I looked down along the endless beach and saw two diminutive figures so I started hollering for help. As they got nearer my heart sank because I could see that it was a young girl with a child. They could only grab my things that were floating away in the relentless surf but then miraculously a strong young man appeared on the scene, and jumped into the sea to help me wrestle with my half-submerged kayak. The kayak was a dead weight in the water so I decided to start dismantling the cockpit coaming so that some of the water could be drained from the cockpit. It worked, and after much heaving we managed to drag it up the beach away from the surf; we both collapsed on the shore, utterly exhausted and chilled by the cold water. I was eternally grateful for the providential arrival of that young man on that deserted stretch of coastline.
    Kayaking-Madagascar-journey1.jpg
  • I had a cold restless night on that windy beach, nursing the deep wounds inflicted on my feet and legs when I was wrestling with my kayak. I was stuck on a beach in the middle of nowhere wondering how I was going to progress. The next morning I was discovered by some local people from a nearby village who brought me water every day. I would make a fire and we would drink tea and have a lot of fun trying to learn each other’s language; one of them was a schoolteacher and knew some English. The first Malagasy expression that I learnt was “Tsara Be”, which means very good, and it became a mantra after every sip of tea, and would be greeted with fits of laughter followed by another chorus of “Tsara Be”.  I met fishermen who came down to the beach with their families to cast their simple fishing lines out into the surf and kept them refreshed with cups of tea and roasted peanuts. I had become a local attraction; a regular watering hole and social venue for the local people that promenaded the beach. <br />
My new local friends tried in vain to help me get out through the surf, and after the second capsize I knew that it was hopeless and was resigned to trying to find a car to drive me to the next town, Foulpointe, beyond which there looked the possibility of better protection from the big ocean swells. One man watched my gear whilst another one escorted me via Taxi-Brousse to Foulpointe where I was able to secure a car to come and collect me the next day.
    Kayaking-Madagascar-journey2.jpg
  • I met fishermen who came down to the beach with their families to cast their simple fishing lines out into the surf and kept them refreshed with cups of tea and roasted peanuts. I had become a local attraction; a regular watering hole and social venue for the local people that promenaded the beach. It was very exposed and windy there, and much colder than I had anticipated; It made me wish that I had taken a sleeping bag on the trip.
    Kayaking-Madagascar-journey3.jpg
  • I met fishermen who came down to the beach with their families to cast their simple fishing lines out into the surf and kept them refreshed with cups of tea and roasted peanuts. I had become a local attraction; a regular watering hole and social venue for the local people that promenaded the beach. It was very exposed and windy there, and much colder than I had anticipated; It made me wish that I had taken a sleeping bag on the trip.
    Kayaking-Madagascar-journey4.jpg
  • I tried to re-launch my kayak with the help of my local friends but every time I jumped into the kayak and tried to paddle out through the surf my kayak was swung around and I capsized, with my head getting rubbed into the sand. We eventually gave up and I made plans to be collected by a taxi and driven north to somewhere with more protection. My fully loaded, heavy kayak just wasn’t suitable for getting out through heavy surf and that was going to be a major limiting factor for the rest of my journey.
    Kayaking-Madagascar-journey5.jpg
  • I was driven to Foulpointe and had to reassemble my kayak on the beach in torrential rain. I attracted a large crowd of onlookers including lots of excited children just as I did when I first assembled and launched my kayak at Tamatave. The local people were fascinated that I had a folding kayak inside two bags. Unfortunately I wasn’t able to impress them with any degree of composure and speed with which I assembled the kayak, because the wooden frame became covered with sand in the pouring rain, making the assembly much more difficult. One sweet little girl held an umbrella over my head as I struggled to re-assemble it, with blood running from cuts on my agitated hands; it was one of those situations when I could have done without an audience! <br />
Eventually I was able to launch my kayak with much clapping and cheering from my faithful audience. I paddled around the point and discovered that beyond the protection of the coral reef in front of town there were still ranks of intimidating breakers extending as far as the eye could see. I didn’t want a repetition of the first day so I decided to exercise caution and find another car to take me to Soaniarana-Ivongo. From there I would catch the ferry to Isle Sainte Marie, a popular tourist destination from where the migrating humpback whales can often be seen. I wasn’t too discouraged by the sea conditions beyond there because I knew that north of Isle Ste. Marie there are long stretches of coastline sheltered by coral reefs – according to my maps anyway.
    Kayaking-Madagascar-journey6.jpg
  • I was driven to Foulpointe and had to reassemble my kayak on the beach in torrential rain. I attracted a large crowd of onlookers including lots of excited children just as I did when I first assembled and launched my kayak at Tamatave. The local people were fascinated that I had a folding kayak inside two bags. Unfortunately I wasn’t able to impress them with any degree of composure and speed with which I assembled the kayak, because the wooden frame became covered with sand in the pouring rain, making the assembly much more difficult. One sweet little girl held an umbrella over my head as I struggled to re-assemble it, with blood running from cuts on my agitated hands; it was one of those situations when I could have done without an audience! <br />
Eventually I was able to launch my kayak with much clapping and cheering from my faithful audience. I paddled around the point and discovered that beyond the protection of the coral reef in front of town there were still ranks of intimidating breakers extending as far as the eye could see. I didn’t want a repetition of the first day so I decided to exercise caution and find another car to take me to Soaniarana-Ivongo. From there I would catch the ferry to Isle Sainte Marie, a popular tourist destination from where the migrating humpback whales can often be seen. I wasn’t too discouraged by the sea conditions beyond there because I knew that north of Isle Ste. Marie there are long stretches of coastline sheltered by coral reefs – according to my maps anyway.
    Kayaking-Madagascar-journey7.jpg
  • I was driven to Foulpointe and had to reassemble my kayak on the beach in torrential rain. I attracted a large crowd of onlookers including lots of excited children just as I did when I first assembled and launched my kayak at Tamatave. The local people were fascinated that I had a folding kayak inside two bags. Unfortunately I wasn’t able to impress them with any degree of composure and speed with which I assembled the kayak, because the wooden frame became covered with sand in the pouring rain, making the assembly much more difficult. One sweet little girl held an umbrella over my head as I struggled to re-assemble it, with blood running from cuts on my agitated hands; it was one of those situations when I could have done without an audience! <br />
Eventually I was able to launch my kayak with much clapping and cheering from my faithful audience. I paddled around the point and discovered that beyond the protection of the coral reef in front of town there were still ranks of intimidating breakers extending as far as the eye could see. I didn’t want a repetition of the first day so I decided to exercise caution and find another car to take me to Soaniarana-Ivongo. From there I would catch the ferry to Isle Sainte Marie, a popular tourist destination from where the migrating humpback whales can often be seen. I wasn’t too discouraged by the sea conditions beyond there because I knew that north of Isle Ste. Marie there are long stretches of coastline sheltered by coral reefs – according to my maps anyway.
    Kayaking-Madagascar-journey8.jpg
  • I stayed in this nice little cabana on a dock, where I could moor my kayak, on the outskirts of Foulpointe. It was good to have a modicum of comfort for a night or two. I made friends with the poor family living in a very basic hut nearby, which was very dark inside. They were very hospitable to me, and seemed to be genuinely honoured that a foreigner was so interested in them. They made me fully appreciate how poor most Malagasy people are, but still maintain their dignity and good spirits.
    Kayaking-Madagascar-journey9.jpg
  • Transport just about anywhere in Madagascar is very difficult because of the lack of good roads and the seasonal heavy rains, but to travel along the east coast is particularly difficult because there are many rivers to cross, and very few bridges that can actually survive the seasonally bad weather. There are rafts that are either moved manually with poles or powered by motorized boats, or people are ferried in the traditional dugout “pirogues”. I was amazed at how stable they make them look, even when they are standing up or perched high up on the stern, because when I tried to paddle one, there was only going to be one place that I would end up, and that was in the water.
    Kayaking-Madagascar-journey10.jpg
  • Transport just about anywhere in Madagascar is very difficult because of the lack of good roads and the seasonal heavy rains, but to travel along the east coast is particularly difficult because there are many rivers to cross, and very few bridges that can actually survive the seasonally bad weather. There are rafts that are either moved manually with poles or powered by motorized boats, or people are ferried in the traditional dugout “pirogues”. I was amazed at how stable they make them look, even when they are standing up or perched high up on the stern, because when I tried to paddle one, there was only going to be one place that I would end up, and that was in the water.
    Kayaking-Madagascar-journey11.jpg
  • I hired another car to take me and my kayak, and gear, from Foulpointe to Soaniarana-Ivongo, to avoid the last of the exposed stretch of coastline, from where I caught the passenger ferry to Isle Sainte Marie. I was now conducting my “circumnavigation” within the limitations of my kayak, which was just to big and heavy, and vulnerable to flooding, to break out through the constant surf. I discovered that the ferryboat had exactly the same problem, and we got momentarily stuck on a sand bar near the mouth of the river there, where the ferryman had to navigate a difficult passage through the sandbars and surf. Waves started to break over the bow, hitting the passengers, and there was some degree of panic amongst them as the ferryman struggled to free the fragile boat and prevent it from jackknifing into a capsizing situation; it probably didn’t help the confidence of the passengers that there had been a tragic sinking of a ferryboat on the crossing not that long before, with quite a few passengers drowned.
    Kayaking-Madagascar-journey12.jpg
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  • I had my first sighting of a humpback whale as we approached Nosy Boraha in the ferry. Isle Sainte Marie is a popular tourist destination with a few expensive resorts. I reassembled my kayak at the main port, Ambodifotra, and headed south along the sheltered inside coast to visit a whale researcher based at the island’s most well known resort, the Princess Bora lodge. It was wonderful to be paddling in calm sea conditions for the first time on the trip, and being able to land anywhere without having to contend with large breakers. I paddled close to the coral reefs and was dismayed to see how degraded and barren they have become; there were very few fish and most of the coral was bleached and dead. Many of the local people that I passed were coming down to the water’s edge to investigate the mysterious voyager in a bright red kayak; they are only used to seeing the traditional wooden dugout pirogues. I passed these two boys on their small homemade raft, who were very inquisitive about me, but understandably very shy.
    Kayaking-Madagascar-journey14.jpg
  • I was discovering how unpredictable the weather is along the coast of Madagascar and got caught in a few bad squalls including one on the afternoon of my 50th birthday. I paddled back to the mainland from Nosy Boraha and camped on the long spit that extends out into the channel. Shortly after setting off the next day I had the next mishap; the wooden rudder yoke of my kayak broke, making it virtually impossible to steer my kayak in the big ocean swells and get ashore without capsizing in the surf. I had heard the usual surfeit of shark attack stories involving tiger sharks along the east coast so I decided to err on the side of caution and not enter the water to attempt a repair so I had to try to do it by crawling along the back deck of the kayak and reaching out with extended arms. As I was doing it the kayak was drifting ever near the breaking surf on the steep beach, and waves were swamping the cockpit, so I had to keep crawling back into the cockpit to pump out the water. Eventually, with my arms fully extended and frequent duckings of my head underwater, I was able to make a splint for the broken yoke using some wooden cooking utensils all held together with tape, straps and cable ties. It wasn’t a moment too soon as my kayak was just about to be swept ashore into the pounding surf! But that wasn’t the end of the day’s mishaps because when I got back into the kayak I realized that I had omitted to secure my paddle and it had been swept away by the waves! Fortunately I always carry a spare paddle and I spent the rest of the day paddling around the area trying to find the lost paddle but to no avail. Everything just kept going from bad to worse, and I was less than a month into my trip.
    Kayaking-Madagascar-journey15.jpg
  • I gave up on trying to find my paddle, and tried to find a quiet stretch of beach to make camp; I wasn’t really in the mood for attracting a big audience that evening. But as I was racing through the surf towards the beach I saw some people pouring out of the trees and racing towards me, and they eagerly helped to drag my kayak away from the surf. Looking along the beach I could see a line of huts set back from the beach, and there were more people swarming towards me! Greetings ensued and then I started collecting firewood. I assembled a big pile of wood to be fed to the fire gradually whilst cooking my dinner and when I turned around I was horrified to see that they had set the whole pile ablaze; it was party time and the occasion called for a blazing bonfire to celebrate my arrival. It was time to chill out, so I relinquished any prospect of dinner and a quiet evening, and joined the party. I made tea and tried to find as many drinking containers as possible. Darkness settled and the crackling fire illuminated the circus of animated laughing faces around me. My phrasebook once again became the centre of attention and everyone wanted to have a go at trying to speak some English. The trials and tribulations of the day were soon forgotten amidst the laughter.<br />
I camped near the village for a couple of days, doing more repairs and trying to heal my sores. I continued to be the centre of attention of the village, and many people stopped by to observe the strange piece of flotsam that had washed up on their beach. The apparent village leader milked me as frequently as possible for new English phrases. His big opportunity came when it was time for me to leave, and he put his newly learnt expressions into practice by giving a running commentary on my departure - “Duncan Murrell is leaving today and the sun is shining, it is not cloudy, he had a good time here” – all perfectly enunciated like David Attenborough describing the actions of a wild animal.
    Kayaking-Madagascar-journey16.jpg
  • I gave up on trying to find my paddle, and tried to find a quiet stretch of beach to make camp; I wasn’t really in the mood for attracting a big audience that evening. But as I was racing through the surf towards the beach I saw some people pouring out of the trees and racing towards me, and they eagerly helped to drag my kayak away from the surf. Looking along the beach I could see a line of huts set back from the beach, and there were more people swarming towards me! Greetings ensued and then I started collecting firewood. I assembled a big pile of wood to be fed to the fire gradually whilst cooking my dinner and when I turned around I was horrified to see that they had set the whole pile ablaze; it was party time and the occasion called for a blazing bonfire to celebrate my arrival. It was time to chill out, so I relinquished any prospect of dinner and a quiet evening, and joined the party. I made tea and tried to find as many drinking containers as possible. Darkness settled and the crackling fire illuminated the circus of animated laughing faces around me. My phrasebook once again became the centre of attention and everyone wanted to have a go at trying to speak some English. The trials and tribulations of the day were soon forgotten amidst the laughter.<br />
I camped near the village for a couple of days, doing more repairs and trying to heal my sores. I continued to be the centre of attention of the village, and many people stopped by to observe the strange piece of flotsam that had washed up on their beach. The apparent village leader milked me as frequently as possible for new English phrases. His big opportunity came when it was time for me to leave, and he put his newly learnt expressions into practice by giving a running commentary on my departure - “Duncan Murrell is leaving today and the sun is shining, it is not cloudy, he had a good time here” – all perfectly enunciated like David Attenborough describing the actions of a wild animal.
    Kayaking-Madagascar-journey17.jpg
  • Kayaking-Madagascar-journey18.jpg
  • Every time I passed any coastal communities in my kayak I attracted so much interest from the local people and especially the children, because I they had never ever seen a foreigner kayaking along the coast in Madagascar before.
    Kayaking-Madagascar-journey19.jpg
  • Kayaking-Madagascar-journey20.jpg
  • This was the first little town that I had arrived at for some distance. Antanambe is a gateway town to Mananara Nord National Park. The people there were very inquisitive and friendly, particularly in this little shop where I enjoyed a refreshing cup of tea from a thermos with some snacks. I remember startling a small boy on the beach when I first arrived. He was playing with a football in the shallows and when he saw me he was so startled that he ran away and left his ball behind: it was if he had seen a ghost or an alien.
    Kayaking-Madagascar-journey21.jpg
  • My next destination was to attempt to get out to Nosy Atafana, a small group of three islands surrounded by a coral reef just to the north of Antanambe, that constitutes one of only four protected marine parks in Madagascar. I was able to buy some fresh supplies at Antanambe for the trip. It was the first time that I had actually seen any of the fish species that were on sale in the market. Most of the marine habitats that I had observed along the way so far were very sparsely populated with fish.
    Kayaking-Madagascar-journey22.jpg
  • My next destination was to attempt to get out to Nosy Atafana, a small group of three islands surrounded by a coral reef just to the north of Antanambe, that constitutes one of only four protected marine parks in Madagascar. I was able to buy some fresh supplies at Antanambe for the trip. It was the first time that I had actually seen any of the fish species that were on sale in the market. Most of the marine habitats that I had observed along the way so far were very sparsely populated with fish.
    Kayaking-Madagascar-journey23.jpg
  • After leaving Antanambe I faced a 15 mile paddle across a stretch of unprotected ocean, with the biggest ocean swells that I had encountered. The waves generated by the steadily increasing wind were really daunting, especially as sometimes they seemed to be coming from two different directions. My kayak is very stable, but the deck was leaking quite a lot, so I had to keep stopping to pump the water out, and at the same time stop the kayak from being swung around broadside to the oncoming waves, which would have risked getting swamped and capsizing. Unfortunately the prevailing wind was from the SE, and because of my required course to get to the islands the waves were approaching too close to my beam.<br />
To counter this I had to keep tacking and trying to head to the east of the outer island to compensate for any drift. I also had to avoid running directly with the waves because they were so big that they would have washed over my stern or slewed me broadside to the wave, and an inevitable capsize! I had to maintain my concentration to keep the waves on the quarter. As I got closer to the islands I could see the massive breakers smashing onto the rocks; it was one of the most unnerving situations that I have ever been in. I was level with the closest island in the group and rather than trying to run with the waves I decided to go in reverse. The safest angle for any boat to handle big seas is to head into the swells and ride up over them; you offer the least resistance and can maintain the best possible control of your craft. I was allowing the oncoming waves to drive me backwards to where I wanted to go. My heart raced every time a monster wave bore down on me and I rode up and over it. It took a long time but I had no choice. When I was close enough, I could see a break in the coral reef protecting the islands, and I turned my stern into the waves, and surfed towards safety whilst glancing over my shoulder to brace my kayak with my paddle for each surging wave.
    Kayaking-Madagascar-journey24.jpg
  • After leaving Antanambe I faced a 15 mile paddle across a stretch of unprotected ocean, with the biggest ocean swells that I had encountered. The waves generated by the steadily increasing wind were really daunting, especially as sometimes they seemed to be coming from two different directions. My kayak is very stable, but the deck was leaking quite a lot, so I had to keep stopping to pump the water out, and at the same time stop the kayak from being swung around broadside to the oncoming waves, which would have risked getting swamped and capsizing. Unfortunately the prevailing wind was from the SE, and because of my required course to get to the islands the waves were approaching too close to my beam.<br />
To counter this I had to keep tacking and trying to head to the east of the outer island to compensate for any drift. I also had to avoid running directly with the waves because they were so big that they would have washed over my stern or slewed me broadside to the wave, and an inevitable capsize! I had to maintain my concentration to keep the waves on the quarter. As I got closer to the islands I could see the massive breakers smashing onto the rocks; it was one of the most unnerving situations that I have ever been in. I was level with the closest island in the group and rather than trying to run with the waves I decided to go in reverse. The safest angle for any boat to handle big seas is to head into the swells and ride up over them; you offer the least resistance and can maintain the best possible control of your craft. I was allowing the oncoming waves to drive me backwards to where I wanted to go. My heart raced every time a monster wave bore down on me and I rode up and over it. It took a long time but I had no choice. When I was close enough, I could see a break in the coral reef protecting the islands, and I turned my stern into the waves, and surfed towards safety whilst glancing over my shoulder to brace my kayak with my paddle for each surging wave.
    Kayaking-Madagascar-journey25.jpg
  • Kayaking-Madagascar-journey26.jpg
  • Kayaking-Madagascar-journey27.jpg
  • Inside the protective barrier of the islands and coral reefs there was a beautiful tranquil lagoon. Beyond the tranquillity the Indian Ocean was still hurling waves and creating explosions of spray. I wanted to investigate the biggest breaks on a huge outcrop of bare rock on the outer side of the islands. I clambered up on to the rock and watched the massive swells that had travelled thousands of miles across some of the most tempestuous seas on the planet colliding with a boulder the size of a house. It was an awesome spectacle of the power of the ocean. I took some dramatic photographs but wanted to capture the perfectly timed moment of maximum impact. I dashed out onto the rock to a position that I thought was out of reach of the waves and quickly retreated to avoid the spray. They seemed to be consistently hitting a maximum height but all of a sudden a monster wave crept in unnoticed from a slightly different angle and hit me from the side. I spun around to face it and was engulfed in a surging mass of energised water; it felt like being hit by a car! I was swept off my feet and desperately tried to arrest my slide towards the foaming cauldron below, and to protect my camera. I just managed to save myself from what could have been a desperate plight if I had been swept into the sea. I felt pain, and the first thing that I noticed was that my arm was badly scraped; then I could see that I was standing in a pool of blood. I lifted my foot up and winced at the sight of a huge gash; it was very painful and I couldn’t stand on it. The infected sores on my shins and feet were still causing me some discomfort, especially at night. I wasn’t looking forward to going to bed that night because I wasn’t expecting to be able to find any comfortable positions. When I hobbled back to camp I cleaned and dried my camera and lens, but that camera body and my essential wide-angle zoom lens were now out of commission.
    Kayaking-Madagascar-journey28.jpg
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  • It was lovely paddling around the protected shallow lagoon between the three small islets of Nosy Atafana Marine Park but the currents were very strong. I observed a lot of fish in the sea in and around the islets.
    Kayaking-Madagascar-journey31.jpg
  • Kayaking-Madagascar-journey32.jpg
  • I paddled onto the town of Mananara, whilst nursing my painful foot injury and infected sores. I had to make a long detour around the next point to avoid the minefield of fringing coral reefs and faced the prospect of trying to find a way through the maze of threatening coral in the fading light of the day, and was relieved when I eventually found a clear passage through to the shore. I received treatment for my injuries, in Mananara, and then shared a ride to Maroantsetra, the gateway town to the Masoala Peninsula, in the back of a pickup truck with other foreigners. I was glad that I was able to experience that road journey through the beautiful, biodiverse vegetation of Mananara National Park. I then explored the amazing island of Nosey Mangabe in Antongil Bay, where I had my first encounter with an incredible leaf-tailed gecko, which was love at first sight.<br />
I then paddled from Maroantsetra to the Masoala Peninsula. The sea was flat calm when I passed Nosy Mangabe but just after midday the wind started to pick up as it often did at that time of day. It was coming in from the entrance to the bay, which opens out onto the Indian Ocean, and in a very short time I found myself battling into winds gusting over 30 mph. Once again I had to keep stopping to pump out water whilst trying to hold my position facing into the oncoming waves. Progress was painfully slow and with every laboured stroke I felt as if my shoulders were dislocating. I was getting drenched with spray every time I ploughed into a wave and the salt was building up on my skin. As my body gyrated with each paddle stroke my back was getting rubbed raw by my backrest and the salt aggravated the sores. My throat was parched and I didn’t have enough water to quench my thirst; I was beginning to feel like a galley slave! My arms and shoulders screamed with the exertion, the salt was burning my flesh, and I had to overcome exhaustion; by the time I eventually reached my destination I was completely drained.
    Kayaking-Madagascar-journey33.jpg
  • It was such a relief to set foot on my first beach along the Masoala Peninsula and what a beautiful beach it was. There was a small river flowing out from the dense forest and I couldn’t wait to explore it. But I was physically drained and the next day was a day of recovery and quiet, relaxed contemplation of my verdant surroundings. When I finally paddled up the river and walked as far as I could I was mesmerised by the vegetation. There was such a wonderful variety of different trees, tree ferns and palms, many of them undoubtedly endemic to Madagascar or even to the Masoala Peninsula. This is what I had been dreaming of when I first made plans for this trip; to be alone in a remote part of Madagascar with the means to explore rivers and penetrate one of the most scientifically valuable rainforests on <br />
the planet. I continued along the peninsula looking for more rivers to explore.
    Kayaking-Madagascar-journey34.jpg
  • Rocks in Tompolo Marine Park, Masoala National Park, the Masoala Peninsula, eastern Madagascar.<br />
<br />
My next camp was at Tompolo, which is within one of two Marine Parks in Antongil Bay. From there on the shoreline was dotted with the most unusual looking outcrops of large rocks; each one looked like it had a set of broken teeth embedded in the top of it. The point at Tompolo was protected by a cluster of these strange looking rocks and in between them was the first significant aggregation of living coral that I had seen on the entire trip to date. The crystalline water was alive with brightly coloured fish, crabs and shrimp. I could clearly see the benefits of the area’s protected status, and at last I was getting a glimpse of Madagascar’s disappearing marine biodiversity.
    Kayaking-Madagascar-journey35.tif
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  • Masoala National Park, in northeast Madagascar, is the largest of the island’s protected areas. Created in 1997, the park protects 2,300 square kilometres of rainforest and 100 square kilometres of marine parks. The Masoala peninsula is exceptionally diverse due to its huge size, and variety of habitats, including rainforest, coastal forest, flooded forest, marsh, and mangrove. There are over 600 plant species on the peninsula including a staggering 99 species of palms, one of the most diverse groups in the world. Three marine parks protect coral reefs and a dazzling array of marine life; currently over 3,000 species of fish and 41 types of coral have been recorded. There are ten lemur species, of which 4 are listed on the IUCN red list of endangered species, including the flamboyant Red Ruffed Lemur, which is endemic to the peninsula. Other endemic species include the Madagascar red owl and the extremely rare serpent eagle. 102 species of birds have been recorded, of which 60% are endemic.<br />
Unfortunately during the political during a period of political unrest in 2009 and 2010, the national park was invaded by thousands of illegal loggers searching for valuable rosewood.<br />
During 2009 and 2010, the national park was invaded by thousands of illegal loggers searching for rosewood, who would have also been involved in widespread poaching of many rare species, including the Red Ruffed Lemurs that are found nowhere else in the world.
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  • Up the next river I found a variety of stick insects and was able to watch a frog chirping at very close range. The frog chorus started in unison at about the same time very day, each species with its own distinctive call. I saw an incredible bird called a helmet vanga with the most ostentatious bright blue beak and paradise flycatchers trailing long ribbons of feathers behind them; this was the tropical paradise that I had been dreaming about. I was glad that my foot had healed sufficiently well enough to give me almost full mobility again. The next river that I paddled up was much larger than the others and there was a fishing village at the entrance and several dwellings along the lower reaches. I paddled as far as I could to find the greatest sense of solitude. I was well provisioned and I planned on camping there for a few days so that I could explore the surrounding forest. Just past my camp I found a beautiful tributary with a series of small waterfalls. When I hiked up the stream in the evening I entered frog heaven. I found six species, many of them very small and cryptic. The largest one was perched on a small branch and was not disturbed by my presence. I was able to photograph it from every conceivable angle.
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  • At the end of the bay I camped on an island within the boundaries of another marine park.  I had heard that the snorkelling there was the best in the bay - I wasn’t disappointed. I couldn’t believe how many species that I saw in a short space of time;  I lost count at about 20. Being in the water brought some relief from the pain of my swollen ankle and foot, and also from the swarms of mosquitoes, by far the worst that I had encountered so far. Up until that point I had been pleasantly surprised at how few of the jungle nasties, like mosquitoes and leeches, I’d encountered. Although I was supposedly camped within a protected marine park I witnessed several fishermen searching for lobsters in the area. It wasn’t so much that they were just catching lobsters but the very destructive manner in which they were doing it; they were using a long pole to probe the rocks with some considerable force, which would undoubtedly damage the coral.<br />
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 I continued northwards through waters protected by offshore coral reefs and camped near Cap Masoala. I received a visit from two park rangers in a very impressive looking kayak. They were very interested in my trip and examined my swollen foot. They had no idea what it could be but one of them pointed to a hard black spot on my toe, one of a few I’d noticed, and informed me that a parasitic flea had laid its eggs in there, and that they had to be scraped out. I had suspected that they were more than just calluses. He had obviously had plenty of experience with them so I handed my knife to him and invited him to scrape them away; sure enough, once he had removed the black “crust” it revealed a small cavity packed with tiny eggs. He told me that it was very important to remove every last one to prevent my foot being turned into a flea hatchery. I was renowned for hosting uninvited guests on my travels but this was beginning to look like the definitive, open door trip to add to my ever-growing collection of body invaders.
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  • After a lot of walking through the forest streams I noticed a small uncomfortable lesion on the back of my ankle. It became very tender and inflamed when I wore my hiking boots and the collar rubbed up against it. Over the next few days it became more and more swollen, and then my entire foot swelled up to a grotesque size. With the massive swelling came excruciating pain; I couldn’t stand up for more than ten minutes at a time without having to lay on my back and then count to ten while the pain slowly subsided. When I was standing up I could feel the pressure building up and then the searing pain charging down my blood vessels like an express train. Ironically, I had just been able to place my other foot that had been cut so badly, flat on the ground again without any discomfort ; now I would be hobbling on the other foot for the next few weeks. I was very disappointed that my exploratory forays into the forest had to be dramatically curtailed until I could walk properly again. I found a sturdy staff to help me stand upright for long as long as possible and it became a valued companion over the next two weeks or so. It was now a case of having to do things in short bursts until the pain became too unbearable. I couldn’t have chosen a more isolated location to contract such a worrying condition. I couldn’t believe the size of my foot; it was so heavy and full of fluid, and looked more like a rubber glove that had been filled to bursting point with water. The skin on the back of my ankle had turned purple and split open because of the extreme swelling. It was looking very serious and I was compelled to start the long arduous journey to the next sizeable town, Antalaha, at least 100 miles to the north. It was going to be a daunting journey anyway because of the combination of heavy surf and coral reefs on the outer coast, but now with this latest problem my resilience would be tested to the limit.
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  • It was hard to tell from my nautical chart exactly where I could expect to find protection from offshore coral reefs. There appeared to be stretches where I would have to take my chances and run the gauntlet on the open sea and then hope to find a way of getting back inside the next stretch of protective coral reef. Sometimes they abutted right up to the shore or there were too many breakers to negotiate. It was a constant maze that I had to negotiate and make the best choices for. I stopped at a village called Vinanivao to see if I could pick up some of the usual provisions like baguettes, biscuits, onions, tomatoes and bananas. I limped through the hot streets dragging my bloated foot beside me and having to seek out the shade because the hot sand was scorching my feet. It wasn’t just the sand and my bad leg that made me feel uncomfortable, as the locals only stared at me as if I was an alien invader. It was the first remote village that I had passed through where I didn’t feel completely welcome. Sitting down was always a great relief now, even if I still had to keep moving my foot around to find the least uncomfortable position. By contrast, the next village that I passed afforded me a memorable welcome even if I decided to stay in my kayak. I skirted the beach and was spotted by a group of young boys frolicking in the water. They came rushing over to me and started clowning around, plunging, splashing, wrestling and plenty of funny faces. I could have spent the day with those little clowns enjoying their simple life but my bad foot meant that I had to keep pressing on to reach a doctor. Sometimes the pain was so unbearable that I had to lay on my side and recite a rhyme until the pain abated. But eventually the sore on the back of my ankle burst open and erupted its suppurating contents, leaving a gaping hole, but at least the pressure and some of the pain was relieved.
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  • It was hard to tell from my nautical chart exactly where I could expect to find protection from offshore coral reefs. There appeared to be stretches where I would have to take my chances and run the gauntlet on the open sea and then hope to find a way of getting back inside the next stretch of protective coral reef. Sometimes they abutted right up to the shore or there were too many breakers to negotiate. It was a constant maze that I had to negotiate and make the best choices for. I stopped at a village called Vinanivao to see if I could pick up some of the usual provisions like baguettes, biscuits, onions, tomatoes and bananas. I limped through the hot streets dragging my bloated foot beside me and having to seek out the shade because the hot sand was scorching my feet. It wasn’t just the sand and my bad leg that made me feel uncomfortable, as the locals only stared at me as if I was an alien invader. It was the first remote village that I had passed through where I didn’t feel completely welcome. Sitting down was always a great relief now, even if I still had to keep moving my foot around to find the least uncomfortable position. By contrast, the next village that I passed afforded me a memorable welcome even if I decided to stay in my kayak. I skirted the beach and was spotted by a group of young boys frolicking in the water. They came rushing over to me and started clowning around, plunging, splashing, wrestling and plenty of funny faces. I could have spent the day with those little clowns enjoying their simple life but my bad foot meant that I had to keep pressing on to reach a doctor. Sometimes the pain was so unbearable that I had to lay on my side and recite a rhyme until the pain abated. But eventually the sore on the back of my ankle burst open and erupted its suppurating contents, leaving a gaping hole, but at least the pressure and some of the pain was relieved.
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  • It was hard to tell from my nautical chart exactly where I could expect to find protection from offshore coral reefs. There appeared to be stretches where I would have to take my chances and run the gauntlet on the open sea and then hope to find a way of getting back inside the next stretch of protective coral reef. Sometimes they abutted right up to the shore or there were too many breakers to negotiate. It was a constant maze that I had to negotiate and make the best choices for. I stopped at a village called Vinanivao to see if I could pick up some of the usual provisions like baguettes, biscuits, onions, tomatoes and bananas. I limped through the hot streets dragging my bloated foot beside me and having to seek out the shade because the hot sand was scorching my feet. It wasn’t just the sand and my bad leg that made me feel uncomfortable, as the locals only stared at me as if I was an alien invader. It was the first remote village that I had passed through where I didn’t feel completely welcome. Sitting down was always a great relief now, even if I still had to keep moving my foot around to find the least uncomfortable position. By contrast, the next village that I passed afforded me a memorable welcome even if I decided to stay in my kayak. I skirted the beach and was spotted by a group of young boys frolicking in the water. They came rushing over to me and started clowning around, plunging, splashing, wrestling and plenty of funny faces. I could have spent the day with those little clowns enjoying their simple life but my bad foot meant that I had to keep pressing on to reach a doctor. Sometimes the pain was so unbearable that I had to lay on my side and recite a rhyme until the pain abated. But eventually the sore on the back of my ankle burst open and erupted its suppurating contents, leaving a gaping hole, but at least the pressure and some of the pain was relieved.
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  • Marojejy National Park was undoubtedly one of the highlights of my trip. The Marojejy Massif is a chain of mountains that rises to an elevation of 2,132 metres.The trekking up to the peaks was challenging, the scenery incredible, and the abundance and biodiversity of the flora and fauna all along the way was second to none: at least 118 species of birds, 148 species of reptiles and amphibians, and 11 species of lemur occur within Marojejy National Park. One of the lemurs, the silky sifaka (Propithecus candidus) is one of the world’s 25 most endangered primates.<br />
I travelled with a lovely couple from Switzerland, and we had an excellent guide called Rombo. The second base camp was just out of this world! The camp was raised up on stilts and overlooked a river that plummeted to the valley below and opposite, one of the peaks of the Marojejy massif towered above us; all around was lush verdant forest that resonated with the sound of birds, frogs and insects.
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  • Ankarana was a really special experience for me. I loved the marriage between the sculpted limestone rocks and the lush vegetation. The tsingy limestone formations are amazing but quite hazardous to walk around on because the rock has been eroded into vertical jagged blades. I discovered that some of the local crowned lemurs have become semi-habituated to visitors, and associate them with snacks, which is not usually a good thing, but unfortunately it is often inevitable, especially if the guides encourage it too. I was able to camp overnight in the forest on the way back to the park headquarters, and had a memorable soak in a cooling stream to listen to the nocturnal sounds of the forest – and to avoid the worst mosquitoes on the trip so far. <br />
I was really impressed with Ankarana, so it was with the usual mixture of wonderment and sadness that I looked back at the very finite perimeter of another protected area when I was driving away in the taxi-brousse. The abrupt transition from incredibly rich biodiversity to barren scrubland was painfully depressing and becoming too familiar in Madagascar.
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  • Ankarana National Park in north-west Madagascar is a spectacular eroded limestone fortress of sharp ridges, interspersed with patches of dense tropical rainforest, deciduous forest, gorges, deep caves and underground rivers. About 100 kilometres of cave passages have been mapped within the massif. It is a small, partially vegetated plateau composed of 150-million-year-old middle Jurassic limestone, with an average annual rainfall of about 2,000 mm that has led to the erosion that has created the classic “karst” topography, or locally known as “tsingy”.<br />
Ankarana contains one of the highest densities of primates of any forest in the world. Its dense forests supports large populations of crowned lemurs and Sanford’s brown lemurs, in addition to Perrier’s sifaka, northern sportive lemurs, brown mouse lemurs, fork-marked lemurs, eastern wooly lemurs, western lesser bamboo lemurs and fat-tailed dwarf lemurs, and also ring-tailed mongoose, fossa, tenrecs and Madagascar striped civet. There are almost 100 bird species, 50 reptile, including some endemic and threatened snakes and geckos, and 10 species of frogs. Inside the huge labyrinth of caves there are 14 species of bats, along with local endemic blind shrimps and the world’s only cave-living crocodiles.<br />
More than 350 plant species grow in the park; the luxuriant forests around the gorges are always green and are the richest in numbers of species.
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  • Amber Mountain National Park, a prominent volcanic massif in the north of the country, is the oldest protected area in Madagascar, and is known for its waterfalls and crater lakes, and is one of the most biologically diverse places in all of Madagascar with 75 species of birds, 25 of mammals, 59 species of reptiles, and ???? species of frogs.<br />
Although it is so accessible and supposedly Madagascar’s most visited natural attraction I was fortunate enough to be there when it was almost empty. The prominent view sites for the park’s waterfalls are really breathtaking. The night walks were very rewarding, especially for an abundance of frog species. The icing on the cake of a very rewarding trip there was discovering a beautiful leaf-tailed gecko on the tree that my hammock was attached to. I discovered it in the middle of the night when I got up to relieve myself. I had trekked far and wide in the hope of finding more of those amazing, elusive creatures and one blessed me with a personal visit in the dead of night.
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  • I was usually greeted with the chorus of “Vazaha” - foreigner, wherever I went, and was spotted by children, even if I was just passing by on a taxi-brousse.
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  • The road journey southwards from Antanarivo to Ranomafana National Park at the start of the rainy season was unbelievable. The road had been turned into a series of deep mud holes, that slowed the traffic down so much that it became congested into one very long, continuous convoy crawling along – like a snail through mud. Everybody had to work together to ensure that the convoy continued moving very slowly. As soon as one vehicle was dragged through, wheels spinning and mud flying, that vehicle would assist the next one with cables or chains. There were mud holes so deep that elephants and hippos could have wallowed in them. I was amazed at how organized and patient everybody was, but that was obviously borne out of an annually recurring necessity. It was almost impossible trying to avoid getting caked in mud, either from underfoot or from the mud flying from the spinning wheels.
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