King Mambo is a humble man.

He understands, that sharing this eco-friendly kingdom with tourism will benefit his community, and will benefit everyone. The campsites and the visitors center are under construction for a facelift after a cyclone caused flooding and devastation not long ago.

His father and the previous king sent him to a boarding school in Zimbabwe. Education is the ‘know-how’ of a wise ruler, he declared. He didn’t understand at a young age, why his father abandoned him.

But he understood and thanked him now for doing so.

I met his eldest son Wilson on top of the mountain, who still needs to learn a lot. He is next in line of blue blood.

My legs felt like jelly as I crawled out of my tent for a nice cuppa coffee.

The milk in my warmed-up esky had gone off, but at least my head was clearing.

The sun had just gotten over the mountains and reflected perfectly over granite walls. There was no one here to ask for permission as I took Rick to the air.

An opportunity like this is not to be missed. Low clouds evaporate in valleys below, as high clouds crawl over the mountain ridges.

If you want to take a bath (freshening up), I take you to our local swimming pool.’ King Mambo greeted me friendly a little later. ‘I like that’ I replied. ‘Shall we go now?’

I asked if I could take the drone with me, and he encouraged me to do so. I wish I had known that before and taken Rick with me up to Monte Binga. Imagine the footage from the air up there. Oh well, next time.

I guess there are many kings of different areas here in Africa, but it’s always prejudice to meet one personally.

I have more respect for a modest person like him, then a monarch sitting in a palace, hiding from the paparazzi.

The headlines of the day are; The paparazzi today is me.

Chronicles off a king. No Mambo-Jambo.

We wandered the short track over the road to his swimming pool.

‘What does the name Monte Binga mean, or where does it come from?’ I wondered.

‘Ever since, a little community lived on the high plateau underneath this mountain, called Badhinga. They lived off the seasonal land and what it had to offer. Badhinga is also the name of a very dangerous snake. It had two heads and would only appear if you had been a bad boy or girl. If you had looked the snake in the eyes, you would have died shortly after. When the Portuguese arrived, they couldn’t pronounce the word Badhinga and called it Binga. Since Chimanimani became a national park, the community was relocated to the lower areas.

This is the shorter version as we arrived at the pool, but I would have liked to hear the full interpretation.

Open air and fresh water, this is my kinda whirlpool.

Smooth boulders had been washed out by water over time, surrounded by mountains of granite. A washed-out pool with a little beach entrance is the perfect cooling spot for anyone.

But first, let’s get to the technical side. King Mambo looked curiously as I ensemble Rick and his autopilot.

Shortly after, the drone looked us straight in the eyes with its lens.

‘Smile and wave’ I encouraged a stunned king.

He wasn’t sure where to look, Drone or iPad.

King Mambo stood behind me as Rick captured us, flying away from us and reaching the aviation limit of 110 meters.

This river and its little cascades are a perfect playground for aerial creations.

Rick circled the perimeter near and far, high and low, before safely landing again in front of us.

Haha, the look on his face was just priceless. Firstly, I showed King Mambo the photos I took.

I don’t think he has seen his kingdom from this perspective before.

But when I handed him my iPad to look at the videos, he needed to sit down. This photo just says it all.

The best of culture is captured by the best of technology. Fabulous.

I explored this creek with OM-D, as I had a little bit of time. The king will be busy for a wee while.

The skinny dip in the pool was as refreshing as ever before we headed back.

He wanted to introduce me to his community, not far from camp. That would be an honor I said.

Unfortunately in a way, the first porters and tour guides arrived back at the same time as we got to camp. I didn’t get to meet and greet his community, some things needed organizing.

An exhausted team of hikers, porters, and guides dropped in little by little. The little time I need to organize myself as well.

Alex and Santos, two of the porters, needed a lift to Chimoio and if I could take them with me.

Of course, I can. Padoko, Padoko.