I ended up camping by the river for the night, it was already past midnight. I woke up to the sound of silence.

Empty silence. Eerie silence. No birds were tweaking their early morning ceremonies. No natural sound at all.

My head was still throbbing and I wasn’t that well. Chilly nights in the mountains won’t help me to get over this. But here I am and that’s what I am going to do. The camp is very basic, and that’s all I need.

I met the newly appointed tourism ranger by the name of Barrak later for more information on what to do in the Chimanimani Mountains. He showed me the map on his laptop, but none were printed yet. After a quick questionnaire about the area, I decided to make my way to a camping place further towards the mountains. I will camp at Nhabawa for the night and then tomorrow climb up to the top of Mount Binga. From what I saw on the map, it looked pretty straightforward. No problem he said, we just need to confirm that with local communities and the rangers.

That was a whole different story again. It’s park policy, that at least one ranger needs to be present at Nhabawa Campsite when visitors stay there. But all the Rangers were here, it’s the weekend. We lost a lot of time taking in different perspectives from each ranger, which I didn’t understand. Discussions are a major pastime pursuit in Africa. And discussion is not what I came here for. Belem, one of the rangers, agreed that he would lead the way to Chikukwa Camp on his little motorcycle, where I would meet King Mambo and discuss the climb up the mountain for the following day. Then he would travel with me and Zimba up to Nhabawa Camp to the waterfalls and rock paintings. Early next morning, we would depart together, back to Chikukwa Camp, where I would be departing to Monte Binga. Phew, up and down and back again like so many times here in Africa. At least we have a solution. Let’s go!

It was after lunchtime already and steaming hot. Belem just needs to get his gun. ‘Sure, I’ll wait’ I said. Hope that wasn’t for me?! After some more waiting, we were finally on track. It felt like an army convoy in the old Wild West making tracks in the Chimanimani Mountains, driving behind this ranger and his outstanding gun. Well, this is Africa after all.

He stopped at a place, where he knew he had phone reception.

Belem was quite animated during this call, maybe someone expected him to come home.

Driving along this mountain range is impressive, there is no other way to say it.

Sheer granite boulders line the lands, falling off the towering and glistening peaks.

These mountains aren’t very high on a global stage, but steep and harshly accessible.

I met King Mambo briefly on base camp and discussed my track tomorrow. All is well it seems, so Belem jumped his gun into Zimba. His English was as good as my Portuguese, communicating was based on body language.

We entered the 4 WD track to the next camp and it became clear early, this track was not for the faint-hearted.

It wasn’t that I had no faith in Zimba or myself, but a word of warning would have been appreciated. Once you are on track, there’s no turning back.

I haven’t changed from the 4WD high range to the 4WD low range and vice versa again for quite some time. Hoof to hoof, Zimba tackled this trail like no other zebra.

We arrived late afternoon at the campsite, it was starting to get cold. My nose was still blocked and my throat felt like an ironbark.

I set up camp and we hiked to the nearby waterfalls.

Another ranger joined us for this excursion. His English is a little more fluent.

The falls were nice and it was a pleasant get-together.

A few photos needed to be taken, Belem was more relaxed than when we first met.

It is a serine and pristine place to stay, we both know it. I cooked dinner and stayed warm with a nice cup of tea.

The almost full moon was already shining brightly over the surrounding mountain range. I joined the residents of this camp later by the local fireplace. They asked earlier if I wanted a fire for myself, but what good is that for?

It was an amusing evening as we shared tea and homemade salad and listened to Belem’s favorite songs on a solar-charged radio. Smiles all around as we communicated in portoenglish.

No other visitor had joined them at the fire before. I don’t understand why.