We forgot to mention in the last update that before Leaving Livingstone we were faced with a choice, a.) drive up the road to Lusaka for 8-10 hours or b.) find a scenic campground half-way down the road and watch the sun go down over Lake Kariba. Being the adventurous type, we found a spot on the map that could have been nothing short of the best possible wild campsite anywhere in Zambia. And so 2/3 of the way to Lusaka we turned off the main road and headed to our dream camp site.
When we drove past the final village structure and arrived at the beach front, even in the dark we knew it was a great spot. To ensure that it was okay for us to camp there, we drove back up the road to the first house we found to ask the locals regarding camping on the beach. As we entered the driveway we understood it to be an inn and a small crowd seemed to be waiting for us in the driveway. The first person we met was the village Constable. He was incredibly drunk and overjoyed to meet us. He welcomed us to Kariba Peninsula Village Inn and confirmed it was a great place to stay. The proprietor said we could all have rooms and she was clearly disappointed when we only wanted to camp in her driveway. We asked about camping down by the beach and a friend of the proprietors piped up “you don’t want to stay down there, traders are coming in and out all night”. Always curious about any commercial activity we encounter, Ross and I both started asking questions about the trade involved. He curiously shifted to saying the fisherman would be arriving really early in the morning and it would wake us up. We countered saying that we wanted to wake up early and take sunrise photos anyways and then I asked specifically if the traders are coming from Zimbabwe. He reiterated that “the fisherman arrive early” and solemnly said, “you really don’t want to sleep down there”. The camping location seemed settled.
Indeed, as we carried on with making dinner, organizing tents and going about our camping business, loaded trucks started arriving. As the night wore on, trucks continued to come and go about as regular as the Zambezi Ferry Service at Kazungula Border Post. If the business was fishing, business seemed to be good. We woke before sunrise and drove down to the beach. Besides the heavy tire tracks on the road, there was no sign of all the trucks we had heard all night.
With the sun mostly up and the bright day around us, we started loading into the car and begin the drive to Lusaka. We met some men walking down to the beach as we were about to pull away. They were fisherman, preparing to start their day.
*We are not alleging that smuggling was taking place between Zambia and Zimbabwe at this location on this evening. We do not even know what goods would be profitable to move between these two countries in an unregulated and dangerous fashion. It is not our intent to disparage the inhabitants of this village or their friendly constable. We accept no responsibility for the accuracy of our assessment.
** We neither witnessed nor received any solicitations for services.
Joburg to Scotland 