21 November 2011

Kasanka Weekend, Part 1: Bats!

Shaun and I and three fellow PCV pals headed to Kasanka National Park this past weekend to see the world's largest mammal migration. Every year late-October to early-December, millions of fruit bats (yep, bats are mammals) migrate from their homes in central DR Congo to roost in the forest of Kasanka National Park. They come here, where food is plentiful, for about 6 weeks each year to give birth to their young. Anyone interested in doing a PhD research study on these bats is welcome to contact the folks at Kasanka: we were told scientists do not yet know where exactly in DR Congo these bats live or where they go after their holiday in Zambia.

To learn more, check out this link: http://thebestofzambia.com/leisure/activities/national-parks/kasanka-national-park/. Here's an excerpt from that web page about the bat migration seen at Kasanka:

Kasanka National Park is best known for the bat migration. In late October each year large numbers of gigantic straw-coloureded fruit bats gather in a small area of Kasanka National Park Mushitu swamp forest near the confluence of the Musola and Kasanka Rivers. The number of fruit bats in this gathering can be as many as 10 million and they migrate to Kasanka from all over central Africa. At twilight bats fill the sky in all directions for twenty solid minutes as they leave their roost to feed though the night on abundant seasonal fruit of the miombo woodlands. This event is one of Africa’s most amazing and unusual wildlife spectacles – never forgotten by those lucky enough to witness it. This bat migration has been the subject of intense interest from scientists. The bats remain in the area for only six weeks to feast on mangoes that ripen at this time of the year.

We'd heard about the bat migration early on in our service and have been interested in checking it out. Shaun did bat research in Oregon and Kasanka is sort of in our backyard, being situated between Luapula and Central provinces. Last year at this time we were still in Community Entry, the 3-month period at the start of a PCV's service in which they are to stay put, make connections and integrate into their community. Next year, we'll have closed our service by the time the bats come to Zambia, so this year – 2011- was our only chance. And here I should give our big thanks to our friend Ashley who made all the arrangements for the trip and allowed us to tag along.

Saturday morning, we got up at 05hrs and by 0530 we were on our way to the taxi “stand” to get a taxi from Mansa to the Musaila junction. At 0545, we were already sweating from the heat. It's that time of year.

We got a ride with a man named ba Peter, who we later learned was a science teacher a Mansa High School. He works as a taxi on the weekends to earn extra cash for his family. He was a very nice gentleman – and an safe driver- and he invited us to stay with him and his family anytime we need a place to stay in Mansa. This is just another example of how friendly and inviting Zambian people can be.

Ba Peter dropped us off a the Musaila junction and as we piled out of his car with all our backpacks, a crowd of amaguys surrounded the car trying to help us get our next ride (their motive is to get a cut of the bus ticket we might buy). Instead of taking the bus, we negotiated a hitch with a man and his son in the back of their large canter. We jumped in and became part of the cargo they were transporting. Although we were just going to Kasanka, the other items were headed for Nkonde in Northern province. The open-air, moderate-speed, roomy hitch was preferable to the crowded, hot, smelly bus. It was also about 15,000 Zkw cheaper per person.

In the back of the canter truck, en route from Musaila to Kasanka. From left to right: Vanessa, Ashley and Garrett.

It was preferable while the canter truck was moving and uncrowded. Somewhere about halfway to our destination, the canter began stopping often to pick up more hitchhikers. With more hitchhikers, you have more people and luggage in the back of the truck- crying children, smelly fish and chickens, drunk men. You also have more people who want to stop at each roadside market to buy fish, vegetables and other items from the banamaayo (women) selling their goods. Shaun was one of those folks who bought fresh fish at the Luapula Bridge- six fish for 20,000 Zkw ($4 USD). At one point, the canter truck was stopping, literally, every kilometer. By then the sun was on the other side and beating down hot on the back of the truck. What seemed like a good hitch turned into a crappy one. This is a basic a rule of life and transport in Zambia: you're luck can change at any time, for better or worse.

Banamayo (women) selling fish at Luapula Bridge.

The back of the canter truck, where we sat for hours on a hitch from Musaila to Kasanka. As you can see, things got much more crowded.

Our favorite quote of the day came from this canter ride, at one of the stops, in Mpelembe in Serenje District. We stopped at a small town to pick up a group of hitchikers. There were a lot of other people at the roadside who were delighted to see mzungus (white people) in the back of the canter. They crowded the canter remarking about the white people (us) in the truck. One of the men greeted us and struck up a conversation. The conversation took what seems like the inevitable turn of him asking us for money. When we asked him why we should give him money he said, “because you are white man and you give every Africans money.”

After six hours in the back of this truck, we finally made it to Kasanka, where we jumped off and ran into the shade as fast as we could. It's worth noting making that same journey in a Landcruiser takes about 2 hours. It's also worth noting that at no time did the bus to Kasanka pass us, which means that we made better time than the folks on the bus. On the bus, maybe we wouldn't have been sitting in the sun, but we also might have been sitting one-and-a-half or two butts to a seat, plus holding our big backpacks- and Shaun's fish- on our laps.

When we got to Kasanka, we checked in at the main entry gate. For 120,000 Zkw ($25 USD) per person, Wasa Lodge sent an open-top jeep to pick us up at the gate and take us to the camp site, about 20km inside the park. We hopped in the jeep and marveled at the comparative luxury- one seat for every person, plus space for our bags and our feet to fit under our seats. The head of the lodge, was the one who picked us up with a warm welcome and drove us in. The ride through the park was beautiful: green, lush, forested, shady, trees forming a canopy across the small dirt road, little purple flowers popping out of the forest floor. We all wondered if this is what our villages looked like decades ago before deforestation's effects became as pronounced as they are today.

On the ride, we saw baboon families galloping on the forest floor and climbing up and down the trees. We stopped at a clearing to see puku and the elusive sitatunga antelope. We even passed a small pack of about 6 warthogs running through the forest.

Finally, we reached the shaded campsite. There is a bathing shelter with a jerry-can-cum-shower, a pit latrine with commode and a nice little insaka to cook and eat food. There was black plastic where the bamboo walls used to be on the pit latrine. A week earlier elephants had come through the campsite and sort of demolished the walls. Oops.

The fancy pit latrine/ long-drop toilet.

The bathing shelter

Our tent in front of the insaka where we'd take shelter from sun/rain or do our cooking/eating.

A view of the pit latrine (foreground) and bathing shelter (background)

The river and pontoon crossing was just a minute-walk away from our campsite. After getting our tents set up, we went to the river to fill our water filter and explore a bit. Within 5 minutes of us arriving at the river crossing and discovering the pontoon, an armed guard (rifle slung on his shoulder) came from the other side of the river to cross. We greeted each other and asked him about elephants. He didn't speak English well and he seemed confused when we tried speaking cibemba with him, so we didn't learning much, other than he'd seen 7 elephants that day.

A view of the road and tracks leading to the pontoon river crossing

Ashley and Garrett onthe pontoon, pulling the platform to the side

A view of the path from our campsite to the pontoon river crossing.

The afternoon had become so hot and we all felt so dirty after our long hitch, we couldn't resist jumping in the water at the pontoon crossing. A couple of us even brought a bar of soap and bathed in the river. Shaun brought his fish down to the river and started cleaning them for dinner. We learned the next day all this was unwise. One of the guards told us there were “plenty” of crocodiles in that river not far from the pontoon. Yikes.

Later in the afternoon, toward dusk, we decided to do some more exploring on the other side of the river. We took a little nature walk along the vehicle path that meanders through the open pastures. We saw a couple herds of puku grazing and being puku, but that was it. In retrospect, we probably just missed running into elephants which is actually a good thing seeing as we were wandering without a guide or armed scout. The sun from the day must have really zapped our decision-making abilities; I truly don't know what we were thinking.

That evening, the guards brought wood and we made a campfire. We made dinner, enjoyed wine from the box we'd dragged along with us, told stories and listened to music from our MP3 player and little portable speakers.

At one point, I heard a splash from the river and then a few minutes later we heard a hippo's call. It was close and I got spooked. I immediately stood up when it called again and one of us pointed out that “hiding in your tent isn't going to give you any protection.” We all had a good laugh and reassured ourselves that the hippos weren't going to come up to our campsite. And, as far as we know, they didn't. However, that night after we all crawled into our tents, we did hear what sounded like the vervet monkeys, baboons or bush babies in the trees above our tents.

We were all very careful not to have any food in our tent, and the food we did have we gathered altogether far from where we were sleeping. We left it on the ground instead of tying it up in a tree, figuring that if we put the food in the trees the monkeys and baboons would be more apt to help themselves. We must have guessed right because when we awoke to next morning, nothing had been disturbed.

The next morning, we all awoke to the early sunlight. We made a fire, boiled eggs and sipped some instant coffee one of us has brought along. We were at our leisure, as our “bat walk” wasn't scheduled until 1400.

At 14:45 (in true Zambian punctuality), our guide showed up at our campsite and we headed out on our trek. We walked through the fields of the park with our guide and an armed scout. We thought we would see elephants, but we just saw their tracks leading to the river. Our friends who had visited Kasanka a few weeks earlier had seen many elephant. We thought we'd see hippo and crocodile in the river, but we just saw water. We did, however, pass several herds of puku and we got close looks at the forest and trees. We came upon one tree that produces a fruit that makes the monkeys and elephants drunk when they eat too much of it. We also passed a research area where a woman is doing research on the baboons who live in the forest of Kasanka. Kasanka is apparently friendly to researchers.

(Pictures to come, when the internet connection improves: PB200089, PB200091, PB200096, PB200097)

As the afternoon grew late and the sun lower in the sky, we came to one of the bat tree hides, the Fibwe Hide. This tree hide was tall- about 20 meters tall if my memory is correct. Imagine climbing 60 feet up a tree on a ladder and to a platform made by Swiss Family Robinson and you'll get an idea of what this was like. Although we'd been told the hide was recently rebuilt after wildfire destruction, the climb up was rickety and long with rusted nails holding termite-worn wooden steps in place. While climbing these, I couldn't help thinking of Shaun's parents nightmare climbing the PCT ladders.

We all took a lot of deep breaths and gave each other encouragement- and we all made it to the top platform where we had a beautiful view. We spent about 20 minutes at the top platform and then decided we'd better head down before it started to get dark. We wanted to get down in the light, but we also wanted to see the bats fly out of the forest at dusk. I learned later than some guides take their clients here in the dark before dawn to see the bats come back to roost in the forest. That further proves my theory on life: it could be worse!

(Pictures to come, when the internet connection improves: PB200099, PB200103, PB200106, PB200120)

After climbing down and congratulating ourselves on surviving unharmed, we headed to the bat viewing spot. This was a small seating area (2 wooden-plank benches) in a field across from the forest where the bats roost. We were told about 8 million bats were roosting in that forest, which is only a few square-acres. We sat and waited for the sun to fall. As we waited, we noticed a slowly swelling sound of rushing water. In fact, that was the sound of millions of bat wings flapping as the bats in the forest got ready to go out for their nightly fruit forage.

(Pictures to come, when the internet connection improves: PB200126)

As the sun got lower and the sky became pink and purple, we could see the bats start circling above the forest where they were roosting. In turn, they'd circle and then fly off into the distance. First there were hundreds, then there were thousands, then there were tens of thousands flying out of the forest and off into the night sky. Below are some pictures, but they don't capture the enormity of the experience. Unfortunately, due to the lack of light, I also wasn't able to capture the bats when their numbers peaked.

(Pictures to come, when the internet connection improves: PB200128, PB200132, PB200133,PB200135, PB200138)

After the bats had all flown out of the forest, over our heads and off into the night, we headed back to our campsite. Fortunately, we got a ride back in the Lodge's jeep. The night ride was actually cold- we covered up as the wind made by our speed in the jeep whished by. Thrilled by the massive numbers of mammals we had just seen, we rode back in good spirits, laughing (with mouths covered due to bugs) and smiling.

We were not looking forward to having to gather wood and start our cooking fire in the dark, but as we got closer to the campsite, we realized that might be a necessity and we started mentally gearing up for it. So, you can imagine our relief to see a warm campfire burning when we did reach our campsite. The guards had started it for us while we were on our Bat Walk.

That night, we made a pot of curry lentils and again enjoyed our boxed wine. It being our last night, we tried to enjoy as much of the wine as we could so as not to let any go to waste... which led to a fun night singing and dancing around the campfire to all manner of songs on the MP3 player. Nevermind about those hippos, crocs and things that go bump in the night, wink.

The next morning came early, but we were ready to head out. The Lodge's jeep came to pick us at the campsite around 0630, which we had requested because we wanted to get an early start on the day of hitchhiking. The jeep came on time and we all piled in to be driven to the Lodge office where we paid for our stay and other charges. The bill was for all of us and came out to near 5,000,000 Zkw ($1,000 USD)- which we expected. Since the largest Zambian note is 50,000 Zkw ($10 USD) we collected a huge pile of money on the counter. We had to count and recount the pile 3 times to make sure we'd got it right- hahaha!

After paying up, we were on our way out to the road. Our driver was a Londoner who was in Zambia and at Kasanka for about 6 weeks to help with the bat migration tourists and tour guiding. He was a friendly, good-humored fellow. What we laughed about was that he stopped every couple minutes on the drive to look up a bird or photograph a flower or tree he saw. On the first day, our ride from the entrance to the campsite was about 30 minutes. This ride out was close to an hour, which normally wouldn't have been a problem, but we were anxious to get out on the road to start hitching. The early hitcher gets a better ride.