Tent Travels: Mana Pools revisited

FOR the past two weeks we have done some virtual meandering around Zimbabwe but we still have to visit the place Bill and I love best of all, a magical, wonder-filled, spiritually uplifting place called Mana Pools National Park.

Going back to Mana Pools in 2002 was a pilgrimage rather than a journey. The Zimbabwean national park, on a flood plane between the river and the escarpment in the mid Zambezi Valley, is truly hallowed ground.

The wild and ruggedly beautiful Zambezi Valley is a western extension of the Great Rift Valley and it is a haven for the great creatures of Africa – plus many of her smaller ones. Mana Pools is set out on old river terraces, created through the ages as the Zambezi changed its course. As it moved, the river left behind the pools that give the park its name. They are topped up after winter when the rains return.

In summer, the animals disperse, grazing and browsing closer to the escarpment. As the winter drought tightens its grip, the animals return to the flood plain that, with its rich alluvial soil, offers winter grazing and nutritious acacia pods. Each Acacia albida or winter thorn acacia provides hundreds of kilograms of pods each year.

During the Zimbabwe war years Mana was closed, but we were privileged to visit it soon after it re-opened. In 1980 and in 1981 Bill, our two small boys and I were part of a group of friends who spent ten-day holidays there. Mana was virtually pristine then, totally unspoilt, boasting the most basic of facilities – and it was, I must admit, a little scary. The camp was unfenced and the wilderness experience when driving around the park was unique in that there were no restrictions about alighting from your vehicle.

The nights were a cacophony of animal sounds – lions roared, hyenas chuckled and the hyperactive honey badgers turned our campsite into a playground.

A lone old buffalo had taken up residence in the camp and we would often almost trip over him when we stepped out our tents in the mornings. Day and night, elephant roamed at will through the camp and we had some close, adrenalin-generating but awe-inspiring encounters with these intelligent giants.

The children thrived in this environment. Young spirits seem to connect with wilderness. Even the adults noticed how unconcerned the creatures of Mana seemed to be about humans invading their territory. It was this special trust and an almost mystical spirit reigning over Mana Pools that made it such an amazing place.

Now, going back to Mana after an absence of more than 20 years, Bill and I wondered if it had changed. Had it become too commercial? The scenic road to the national park plunged down the escarpment, twisting and turning into the hot, dry valley. I was assailed by a sense of déjà vu.

How well I remembered the sandy, corrugated road, the acrid, dusty, oven-hot air, as we approached the park boundaries. A stone-washed sky, drab bush, sand-bathing doves exploding into the air ahead of the vehicle – all welcomed us back to this wild corner of Africa.

As we approached the river, the atmosphere changes. Although the river terraces were bone dry at that time of year the air felt cooler, moister. The vegetation changed abruptly, too, mopane trees and jesse bush giving way to ancient African woodlands. Untidy acacias and neat mahoganies, evenly trimmed by browsing animals, stood tall and serene, offering pools of shade on the hot spring afternoon, although most of the vegetation beneath them had shrivelled during the long winter wait for the rains.

Between the trees the steely water of the Zambezi sparkled in the sun, the river’s banks providing flushes of lime green relief from the aridity of the seasonal drought. And across the river, the rugged mountains of the Zambian escarpment, mauve and hazy in the harsh sunlight, formed a stunning backdrop to this magical place.

Mana Pools was exactly as we remembered it.