Mozambique

Ten of us are whisked by boat across turquoise water – skirting exposed sandbars – squinting into the sun.  It takes an hour to reach our destination – a spread of spacious thatched cottages on a ridge facing the water.  Remote.  Secluded.   A wildlife sanctuary in Mozambique.

 

Boxes of mangoes, pawpaws, pineapples, coconuts, vivid red tomatoes are offloaded onto the beach.  A huge fish (tall as a man) is dragged from the boat. 

We pull down our sun hats, shoulder heavy bags, clutch our full allowance of duty-free alcohol and cross the wooden boardwalk though mangroves.  The incoming tide flows in clear below our feet, wraps around the twisted trunks, bubbles in the crab holes.  Beyond the narrow strip of mangroves we climb sandy shaded steps and rinse our feet in a cement trough of clean water. 

We have arrived!

Ahead of us white cushioned loungers on a wooden deck, a cool plunge pool under a tree, and beneath a spreading thatched roof are couches and hammocks, giant kikoy covered cushions, low Swahili tables, baskets of field guides, a long dining table which comfortably seats the 10 of us. 

All of it open to the views and the breezes.

A week of bliss.

Stuffed crab, grilled king prawns, fresh coconut and platters of tropical fruit.   Long walks on sandy beaches unmarked by any other footprint.  The drama of tropical skies and soaring thunderheads.  The constantly changing light on sea and sand – ribbons of color.

 A week of bliss

 Finding a giant sanddollar on an exposed sandbank.  Watching dolphins romp around our dhow.  A flock of flamingo rising. Mullet jumping silver around us as we swim at sunset.   Canoe races and colorful reef fish around the jetty.   Swimming in a tropical downpour – body, ocean, rain – all of it the same balmy temperature.

 

 
A week of bliss ...
 
Laughter around the dining table - playing parlour games after dinner - reading in companionable silence. 
Solar powered lights, private outdoor showers, mosquito nets lowered at night.

My outdoor shower complete with tree

Time to leave. Bruise colored clouds crowded the sky.  We could see distant rain falling over water.  Our boat sped back to the mainland.  A cyclone was predicted the following day.  We flew without incident back to Johannesburg. 

But, back in Mozambique, the tropical storms rolled in --   Dando and Funzo.  Floods, gale-force winds, impassable roads,  submerged houses, fear and drownings.

And flooding in South Africa's Kruger National Game park forced it to close its gates.  Dozens of tourists on safari had to be airlifted to safety, people were rescued from tree tops.

The three youngest in our group (none yet 21) were driving back.  V.  developed malaria and had to be flown home.  The two boys, instead of taking one and a half days (as they had on the drive up) only got home more than a week later. They hunkered down during storms and re-routed through Zimbabwe because  the national highway to Maputo was flooded.   They finally arrived  safely, high on the adventure of their trip.  

Yet again I am awed and humbled by the beauty and the force of nature.