Madagascar, Chapter 1

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Just to let you all know, I am currently in a private game reserve with my parents in the Transfrontier Park (which includes Kruger) in South Africa, sitting in the most luxurious lodge I have ever, and most likely will ever, stay in my entire life.
But taking you back almost a month now, things weren't so luxurious. We began our first adventure in Madagascar on a 5 hour minibus ride with our guide, cook, and other trip-mate Markus on a road that took us from Antsirabe to Miandrivazo, a small town 160km from the west coast. The first night was spent getting to know each other over a few beers at our hotel, and getting excited for the paddling, cycling, and hiking ahead of us. The following day, the five of us, plus 2 boatmen, plus all of the bikes and baggage, were piled into a 10m long pirogue (canoe), and set off sitting no more than 4 inches off the water. Floating down the Tsiribihina river was one of the most relaxing things I have ever done. Paddling when you wanted, putting your feet up when you didn't, and enjoying the tranquility of nature, made for a fantastic start. After covering about 40km that day, including a stop for lunch, we set up camp on a massive sandy bank with nothing around us but creatures, and eventually the most star-filled sky I have ever seen.
That was followed by the worst night of my life. We still aren't sure what the culprit was, but Will and I spent the entire night with the worst diarrhea imaginable, and vomitting, and just over-all wishing for death itself. All of a sudden tranquility turned into isolation, as we realized we were without cell phone coverage, and at least 2 days away from the closest village. In the morning we decided that while it was still a terrible feeling, it probably wasn't fatal, and instead would just take some time to clean out the system. While that thought was somewhat comforting, we barely covered any ground that day because of the heat. The midday sun was firing at about 46 degrees celcius, so any fluids that were left in the body (barely any) were promptly sweated out by noon. I spent the day feeling sorry for myself under a waterfall and wondering when the next time I would eat anything would be.
The next day was also quite bad, and almost as hot, but we managed to cover a lot of ground, and both Will and I were starting to come around by dinner time. After finally getting a good nights sleep on the riverbank, we had to cycle for 46km to the town where we were to begin our cycling trip (this wasn't in the trip outline). If we were biking on paved roads this would have been no problem, however we were in sand, mud, crossing rivers, riding through bushes, and almost anything else imaginable, all the while wondering how it was consistently over 40 degrees in the winter. That night our guide spoiled us with a delicious dinner, and we liked him again, ready to begin the second stage of the journey the next day.
We were scheduled to cover 100km on our bikes in 2 days, but after the first few hours realized that it was not possible. Don't forget we are riding with food, water, and camping gear strapped to the back. The first 22km took almost 4 hours, and everyone was just plain wiped. Conveniently, the one truck that runs to our destination throughout the week was running that day, so we decided to pay the money (paying for the guide and cook ourselves of course) and hop on the truck. Our confidence in the guide at this point was slim to none. The truck was a bumpy, jam packed 8 hours, though fascinating to come across villages who rarely see any vehicles at all. At about 11 pm we spent 2 hours in the mud, and had just finished our celebration of getting out, when we got stuck again, this time for good. We layed our mats down on the road, kept our fingers crossed that the malarial mosquitoes would take the night off, and went to bed. After a terrible sleep, we were up at 5 am and on the bikes again, having not eaten for about 18 hours, making our way towards the village where we were meant to have spent the previous night. After a weak breakfast, we set off for another 17km bike ride to Tsingy National Park, the entire reason why we took that pleasant truck ride the day before. As worse for wear as our bodies were, I have to admit the Tsingy was worth it all. Pinnacled rock formations unlike anything else in the world (they get their name from the "ching" sound they make if you knock them), and we got to rock climb up them, and then spend 20 minutes in pitch black caves on the way down. Simply amazing. After another 17km on our bikes, which included me getting a flat tire, and my brakes cutting, and I suppose it should be noted that my bike only had one functioning gear, we were back for dinner. Once again, our guide spoiled us with a delicious dinner after a hard, almost impossible day. We felt almost like he was an abusive boyfriend to us, beating us one day, then bringing us the flowers and telling us he loves us the next.
We started cycling nice and early the next day, but almost immediately, our guides bike had a mishap. Then, a little bit too conveniently, an empty 4x4 appeared who was willing to drive us back to the village. Driving an emprty 4x4 on this road would be like Westjet flying from Vancouver to Toronto empty, just for the fun of it. We accepted the ride of course, and took the truck 140km south to the world famous "Avenue of the Baobabs". That night our guide also confessed he had spent nearly all of our money on the 4x4 (though still claims it wasn't planned) and we would have to pay for our transportation back to Antsirabe. I let him have it, complaining about everything that was wrong about the trip, but nothing would get our money back, so decided to swallow my pride and enjoy my time anyways. The "Avenue" the next morning was absolutely breathtaking, and provided some of the best pictures of the entire trip. We then cycled for 20km to Morondava, a laid back beach-side town, to spend the night before heading back.
Getting back to Antsirabe was a bumpy 18hr minibus ride, leaving at about noon and arriving about about 6am the next day. I have to admit, arriving back there, despite all of the shortcomings of the tour, I could appreciate the truly incredible experience I had just had. That feeling lasted until about 7:30am, at which point I fell asleep in the cool highlands climate, as exhausted as ever.

I will write another blog tomorrow or the next day, on the remaining 2 weeks in Madagascar, but right now there is a giraffe drinking from the water hole in front of our lodge, so I think I'll go have a pint of beer, sit on my personal deck, and enjoy it.
Love you and miss you all
-Graham
ps. anyone who is reading these, thank you, and please send me a message telling me how you are all doing...I love hearing from home.

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