Vilankulos, Magaruque Island & Almost Never Leaving

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My next destination after Tofo was Vilankulos, about 200 km up the coast, as the crow flies. I was told that this was an easy enough journey and that it shouldn't take too long. Having been in Africa about 8 months by this stage, I really should have known that this would not be the case. Nevertheless, I had a fairly easy morning after the full moon party the night before and got the bus from Tofo to Inhambane a bit later than I had planned. I wasn't worried about this though, because from Inhambane, all I had to do was get a ferry across to Maxixe and then get a bus to Vilnkulos, which should take somewhere between 2 and 3 hours.

Going north from Inhambane, it makes a lot more sense getting a ferry across the bay to Maxixe, as to go by road would take an awful lot longer and I'm not even sure if there are any buses that do the route. The dock where the boats left was about 15 minutes walk from the bus station and I got there just in time to get the last see on the boat going over. I am saying boat and not ferry, because our vessel did not inspire confidence that it would make it across. It was a small wooden boat about 10 metres long that had about 40 of us packed in. I got one of the last seats near the front, which had no cover on the sides.

This voyage didn't start out too well, as we went slamming into the opposite pier as soon as we set off. It didn't get any more comfortable as the sea was very rough, for a small boat like this, anyway. Also, as I was at the front, anytime we hit any sort of wave I got covered in sea water. Half an hour later, we arrived in Maxixe with me drenched from head to toe. It was so hot that I didn't mind it too much and after a quick check to make sure none of my electronics had been destroyed, I went to try and find a bus to Vilankulos. A local guy took me to where the buses were going for in exchange for 10 mts, which I was happy to pay, as there was very few people here who could speak English and I never would have found the bus otherwise.

The minibus/chapa was fairly empty so it took a long time for it to fill up and it was almost 3.30 p.m. by the time we got going. But I was hopeful enough that I should get into Vilankulos before long. However, after about an hour, our minibus was just about chugging along and there was clearly a problem. We stopped and everyone got out while the driver and conductor went to work on the engine. We got back in, but after about 15 minutes we stopped again. I was sitting right behind the driver, whose seat they had to take up to get to the engine. This time, a burst of steam came out from the engine in my face and filled the bus. I jumped out of the minibus, having got quite a fright, to the great amusement of everyone else on the bus.

It was getting dark by the time we got back on to try to go on, but on reaching the next village we stopped again and it was clear this chapa would not be making it to Vilankulos. I managed to secure a ride on the back of a pick up along with a few other passengers. It was pitch dark now and we were still 120 km away from Vilankulos. After about an hour of sitting on a sack of some sort of fruit, I think, I eventually got to Vilankulos and got a tuk tuk to take me to Baobab Campsite, where I put up my tent. Despite being fairly exhausted, I had a few drinks with a few people living there and ended up going to Afrobar nightclub, which was a lot of fun.

I was woken up fairly early the next morning, as there was a very strong wind, which made me fear my tent was going to blow away. The weather wasn't great that day, so I just ahd a walk around the town. I really liked Vilankulos. While it hasn't got as beautiful a beach as Tofo, it is more of an authentic African town. Yes, there are a lot of tourist resorts, but even if there wasn't there would still be a big local community. The centre of the town is quite built up, but the area near where I was staying had sandy streets, palm trees and very basic housing. I also found the locals to be extremely friendly.

The next day, I was up early to do a tour to the Bazaruto Arpichelago. However, the weather was overcast so there was a slight change of plan to the tour and we just went out to Magaruque Island. I was joined on the tour by a group of Zimbabweans and a couple from near Cape Town who were driving up through Africa, the opposite way to where I had come from. Luckily, the weather cleared and by the time we got to the island it was a beautiful day. The island was a true tropical paradise. White sand, palm trees and turqouise water. There was also a coral reef around the island, which meant it was really good for snorkelling. This was amazing. Firstly, there was a current so strong that meant you didn't even have to swim. Also, there was an incredible variety of fish, almost as much as I had seen scuba diving. The crew on our ship prepared an amazing lunch of barracuda, chicken, vegetables and rice. On the way back the crew turned the motor off and we sailed, which was nice for a while, except I was turning a lobster shade of red for the first time in a long time and could have done with getting back sooner.

I had planned on leaving the following night to make my way towards Zimbabwe, but a number of factors kept me there longer than planned. To leave Vilankulos and head towards Zimbabwe would have meant getting a 3 a.m. bus to Chimoio, spending a night there and then leaving the next day. I was going to do this until it started to lash rain that afternoon, which would have meant packing away a wet tent. So I postponed going for another day at least. It turned out that the Zimbabweans I was hanging around with were heading back the route I was planning in a few days and they told me there was room for me if I wanted. Also, there was something about Vilankulos I really enjoyed and I decided I was happy enough spending an extra few days there.

There were a couple of days spent relaxing in the hammock, reading, listening to music and strolling around the town. I had another night out in Afrobar with Niall, one of the Zimbabweans, Teri who worked at Baobab and a couple of local guys Joy & Bob Valentino - or so they called themselves. Joy was some character. Every night I saw him, he seemed to have had quite a bit of Tipo Tinto in him and didn't plan on stopping. Yet every morning he would be at his stall in town with his sewing machine making incredibly designed clothes. Apparently he is there 7 days a week.

My last day there was a national holiday to commemorate the end of the civil war. Dave, the South African owner of Baobab where I stayed, asked if I wanted to join him and his niece Julia ande her husband to go down into town to see the celebrations. This was fairly early, but there was a D.J. set up on the street ad loads of people around. We parked and got out, but got in trouble with the police very quickly. Firstly, they weren't happy with us having beers open on the street, also they didn't like where Dave had parked his jeep. They were just trying to get a bribe out of him so we got back in ad drove off. That night was an early one, as we were getting up at 4 a.m. to begin the drive to Zimbabwe.

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