The Fellowship of the Little Red Van

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March 30 to April 1

So, Kat, Ralf and I were up at 5.30 getting ready for the transport, which was supposed to be arriving at 6.00 am. Also at the guesthouse was Al, the brand new, just out of the box, dive manager for the expedition. It was quite funny - we were asking Al questions about Andava and his response was "I don't know, I just got here. Please, let me wake up!" or something to that effect. And, like everything Al says or does, it is much more patient and pleasent in person (the new open water divers got lucky to get an instructor like Al!).

At 7.00 am the van came. We were starting to learn about Malagasy time (it will happen when it happens). When the van arrived, I don't think any of us believed that 13 vols and staff, plus all the luggage, would fit in and on it. Turns out two of the girls who were supposed to be joining us were doing so in Tulear - between missed flights and lost luggage they wouldn't be part of the Fellowship. And the Fellowship of the Little Red Van was born as we piled in.

A short, yet still terrifying, voyage through the streets of Tana to the Sakamanga Hotel, were the rest of the volunteers and three "staff" were meeting us. Eventually we got everyone aboard - it was a tight fit (see the pic) but it worked. Again, expectations in Madagascar were being learned: you can always get someone or something more on board a transport.

Joining us were the vols: Mikail, the quiet, for now, Dutch man; Sam, the never quiet and movie encyclopedia (so long as the movie is after 1980, before that he's a bit more hit and miss) from the US; Vic, the movie star (no, seriously, she's a model from the UK!); and Debbie, the brash Canadian who's first comment to me was: "You're Canadian. Oh, I don't want to talk to you." She came around though. ;-)) Although her second comment to the van as a whole was about a sex dream she had involving lemurs. No more details though - I'm a gentleman.

The "staff" were Jon, the South African ex Royal Marine Captain, master of the video and photo (he was coming to get film about BV for their website and to put together some material for them); Tristan, the brilliant, brilliantly blond that is, young scientist from Oz, and his wordly yet oddly personable senior partner, Howard, from the UK.

The reason these three have "staff" in brackets is that Tristan and Howard were going to BV because they are starting a similar project in Fiji. Go there! Jon, as mentioned, is developing material for the website (and maybe other stuff too). So, while they aren't vols, they're also not really staff. Hence, they straddled the border, the gulf, as it were, between the two camps. (Just kidding - no real gulfs involved).

But, that first day in the little red van (from now on, LRV), was not a ton of fun. We drove, and drove, and drove. Eventually we got out of Tana - and some fresh air. Sadly, it turns out March 29 is the 1947 Independence Day for Madagascar, and there were police checkpoints every few kilometers, which meant we had to stop for our papers to be examined. Well, the van's papers, anyways. It made for a slow journey. You see, it seems that the government was concerned about bandits or other revolutionaries making a big stink that day. Of course, it never developed.

The journey was through the highlands - beautiful, and green. But it was slow, and for the most part, hot and cramped. Since the weather was mostly rainy all day, we couldn't keep the windows open. We all fit in the LRV, but just barely. Thank heaven Sam was there to entertain us with discussions, with anyone, on any movie or book topic.

For lunch we stopped at one town, got pizza to go, and had a picnic lunch beside the river. The pizza was surprisingly good. And it would be the last one for six weeks. Our western ways were starting to drop behind us - only a little to start.

We arrived in Fianarantsoa for the night after 11 hours of driving to go 400 km. Got rooms at the Crocodile, which is owned by Dave Raza, our tour organizer, and then a quick meal in the Chinese restaurant. After that, Howard convinced most of us to go out. He found out where there were nightclubs (against Dave's advice) and off we went. It was a hoot - descended into a dark basement where there was a circa 70s disco club. Mirrorball, strobes, smoke maching, the whole bit. The only thing missing was a blacklight. All Malagasy except for us, and we were certainly stared out. Treated fine, and we enjoyed some dancing.

On the way there, Howard and I were propositioned by some very young girls - they couldn't have been more than 12 or 13. I guess the sex trade was here as well. On the way back from the club, the same girls came up and started to pinch Debbie and Vic in odd places. Still haven't figured out what it was all about, but we arrived back at the Croc safely.

Up the next morning, and the rain of the previous day had stopped. As we drove off today, the terrain would substantially change from the green, lush highlands with paddy fields of rice, to a drier, but still green, plain.

Our first stop today was a paper factory. There, we saw how a plant's bark was boiled for four hours, pounded to create a paste, spread onto a screen to dry, and then flowers pressed into it (and other designs) to make a very nice, if rough, natural paper. For some reason I found it fascinating, as well as the gorgeous flowers surrounding the "factory" compound. It wasn't a factory as you might think of one, more like an artesanal workshop.

Our next stop was a private lemur park, at, what in Malagasy was called the "Three Sisters," three bald rock hilltops, rising sheer out of the valley floor but providing a forested area for the ring-tailed lemurs. We were able to see the lemurs, or at least one troupe hanging out in the trees. As well, we saw some older, and newer, tombs where the local Malagassy intern their dead. Lots of spiders again (nice orb weavers and others), and two kinds of chameleons. I was very thrilled to see the lemurs and chameleons (not so much the spiders). The chameleons have an interesting way of walking - using their three toed feet like giant ovenmitts, they take a step, but don't put their foot down, then do a little dance with that foot as they slowly move it back and forth, their whole body swaying, and then they grab the branch. It's very odd and I can't figure out the evolutionary benefit to the behviour (I'm sure it's written down somewhere), but it looks incredible to watch.

After the lemur park, stopped off at a Malagassy winery - yes, they have wineries there - and bought a couple of bottles; one red, one rose, for $3.00. And guess what, you get what you pay for! We drank them three weeks later, and either they don't travel well, they don't like 30 degree heat, or it's just bad wine because it was like drinking vinegar. I think the Madagascar wine industry has a little ways to go before it's a threat to France.

We arrived at Isalo National Park at the end of the day, and stayed the night at Momo Lodge just inside the park. It was very nice - mosquito nets and quite cool in the evening, so I actually got a great night's sleep. Was up at dawn to watch the sunrise light up the western hills, where the park was. That morning, we spend a few hours on a walk in the park. It was hot, but we swam in two pools. The first was a shallow pool - the latest cyclone had silted it up with sand, but it was still nice. The second was even better - a deep water pool with a 30 foot waterfall coming down into it. Everyone swam, and a couple of the guys climbed up to get under the waterfall. It was supremely refreshing after the hot walk.

The park itself was dry and forbidden, but very beautiful in an austere way. Got to see some more lemurs and chamelons, as well as the elephant foot plant, whose base looks exactly like an elephant's foot.

We left the park just after lunch at the Momo (highly recommeded, if you're thinking of going that way), and, after a long, hard drive arrived at Tulear, the largest city in the south (about 30,000 people I was told, but it seems bigger) around 8.30 pm. The little red van trip was over.

But our journey was just beginning. That night, we met Becks (the medic) and Louis (one of the field scientists) who got our paperwork and told us that the camion (4X4 truck that can take the trail) was leaving at 5.00 am the next morning. So, we needed to get 6L of water, and any extra food we could scrounge up because sometimes the truck takes 36 hours. Usually it takes 14, but sometimes 36. And it wasn't a fun journey either. Becks emphasized that they had organized a 4X4 landrover, for 700,000 ariary, to take up to four people if anyone wanted to pay for it. Her advice was if you could afford it, to take it.

I convinced Howard, Tristan and Ralf to join it, so we didn't have to leave until 10.00 the next morning. That alone was worth the extra money (it worked out to $125 per person). After the van, which was so cramped my knee was aching, I didn't think I could take another 36 hours in something even worse.

We also met some of the departing vols ("volunteers"), but they weren't interested in meeting us. It looked like it was a younger group, and a couple of us talked about how good our mix was, age-wise, and how well we had bonded. We also met the vols who were coming back for another expedition: Anita, from Switzerland; Eamonn, from Ireland; and Kyle from the US - in their early twenties or 19; and we also were joined by the two women who, because of flight problems and luggage issues, couldn't join us in the van. The lovely Muriel from Ireland (in her 30s) and Tori from the UK (19).

We all went out for dinner, and then for a few drinks at the Za-Za club. It was another club from the 80s, but here, there were many more vaza (Malagassy for foreigner, or white) who tended to be middle-age Frenchmen. They also tended to be with very young Malagassy women. Yup, the sex trade was alive and well in Tulear too. Too much so, to my mind, but sadly there was nothing to be done at that point, so we just enjoyed the evening and the last vestige of metropolitan life for the next six weeks. Debbie particurlarly outdid here - her version of the worm (a dance) will live in my memory forever. Good on ya, Debs!

The next morning (after a terrible sleep - munched alive by mossies, way too much noise at 5.00 and 6.00 as everyone left - sheesh, no consideration) we hopped on the 4x4 (an ancient but indestructible land rover) and were off by 10.00. After a punishing and exhausting drive through the spiny forest (so called because of it's desert nature and the fact everything growing it in has spines!!), including a pee break involving the biggest and most colourful spider yet, we arrived at Andavadoaka just as the sun was setting. Ralf and I were bunked with Mikhail in a hut for four (I got the upper bunk - never take the upper bunk folks!) and Tristan and Howard, as quasi staff members, got the slight more upscale lodging at the Coco Beach hotel. Still basically a shack, but it was bigger and no bunk beds for them! Most jealous, but frankly too tired to care. I can't imagine how exhausted the camion travellers were.

We had a welcoming dinner and then, off to bed. Because it was so dark, the stars were incredible, but the sea was even better. You could hear it from by bunk, and I could see the surf beaking. I would have to wait for daylight though, to see just how beautiful this place really was.

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Photos

Pit Stop
Jon and Sam on the LRV. Photo-op breaks were essential.

Paper Making
Adding the flowers as Howard looks on.