Last weekend we decided to explore a place we hadn’t been to before, an old hunting camp called Raorke’s Camp. Apparently, Raorke was a wealthy American man who decided, with his wife, to retire on a hunting camp he built near the Save River, Mozambique side. He built the camp, but he and his wife both died suddenly, either just before they were supposed to move or right after moving into it – there were mixed reports as to which story was the true story. The camp lies somewhere around 90kms away from our friend’s lodge, which is along the EN-1 heading up towards the Zimbabwe border; in fact it’s a common stopping place for those traveling between Zim and Moz. We, along with a few friends, drove to his lodge on Friday afternoon and, Saturday morning, we set off to find Roarke’s Camp.
At the lodge
Sabi stars
With us came our friend and neighbor. Lodge Owner asked us to ask Neighbor to bring his GPS, and we assured him it would be no problem. But, when we asked Neighbor, he said he did not have one here – his was in Zimbabwe. So, we set off without a GPS, and, not 1km down the road Saturday morning we were already turning around. “1km, and already lost…”
Heading through the bush
Leaving the lodge
But away we went anyway, Jay and I perched happily atop a cooler box in the back of Neighbor’s truck, through a baobab tree forest, thick grasses, villages… on and on for about 70 kms before, after a few detours and turn arounds, we found Roarke’s Camp. We had thought it was on the riverbank and that we could camp by the water, but the path to the river was overgrown with thick, thick bush. The camp was nearly taken over by nature as well, crumbled rondavels hung with vines and strewn with fallen leaves and bark. We pitched our tents in a clearing off the road from the camp. By chance, it was a full moon, and the moon rose huge and shone almost as bright as daylight. It was beautiful to sit by the hot fire in the cold night and watch the moon rise as the sun set on the other side.
Our tent under the full moon
The next day we drove to an accessible section of the riverbank. Though the night was freezing, the day was quite hot, and it was dusty on the back of the truck. We all stopped and hopped onto the warm sand on the riverbank. Overhead, a pair of fish eagles were circling lazily, and across the beach some women were pulling water from a deep well. “Should we swim?” was the question on all of our minds. The pluses were that it was hot and dusty and the river was crystal clear and shining with fresh cool water. The minus was the fear of hippos or crocodiles. The decision was made for us when one of our party stripped off and waded in. We all quickly followed suit. We sat in a shallow section, watching a lone bull hippo poking his eyes out of a deep pool down the river. Occasionally he would make that deep hippo laugh and yawn his mouth at us, showing his massive teeth in a warning threat display not to come any closer. The sun sparkled off the water. We all wished we could stay there for days, but we were out of food and all had work the next day, so after a few hours, we drove the long way back home.
On the way home we caught a truck illegally logging leadwood on the property, and the otherwise peaceful trip got exciting as we escorted him to the police station.
Breakfast at the camp - sausages over the coals and tea boiling on the bbq
In the river
