Tag Archives: Tourism

Still getting there – Day 2: Transfer to Masoala Forest Lodge

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Sunday 2 Jane 2024 – After less than four hours’ sleep, we didn’t exactly spring out of bed with a song on our lips, but we did manage to get ourselves presentable and breakfasted in time for Aina to take us to the airport, past scenes of Sunday morning activity.

Even though it was Sunday, the streets were quite busy and the shops were open. Aina pointed out that shopping was a major activity, since very few people had the means to keep food fresh, so going shopping several times a day is the norm.

Once again, arrival at the airport was a slightly disconcerting experience; instead of dropping us off in front of the terminal building (where quite a lot of people seemed aimlessly to be standing about doing nothing), he parked up and suggested we stay in the car for five minutes.  A couple of guys in red high-vis came over and Aina got out and opened the boot so they could get at our bags.  Trustingly, we followed them and they appeared to be going towards the check in area, which was reassuring.  En route, we met a friendly American chap who introduced himself as Tom and told us that (a) he was going to be joining us on our flight and (b) we three would be the only passengers.  The check-in area bore out his story.

It was a fairly standard check-in, except that all three of us were weighed alongside our baggage.  Having gone through the standard security thing, we climbed into a battered minibus for our mystery tour to the middle of the airfield, which is where we found out why there were so few passengers and why the weight mattered.

Our transport was a Cessna 206, which has just four seats.  One of them is, of course, needed for the driver, who was called Fury.

We settled ourselves in for the two-hour flight and donned ear defenders, which were very uncomfortable, but absolutely necessary.

A flight in a small aircraft is a golden opportunity to get some aerial photos – if the weather permits.  We had moderate luck.  Jane was on the better side of the plane for photos and got a shot of the extensive rice fields outside the town,

but as we ascended, blanket cloud coverage developed below us.  This persisted long enough that I decided I would try to make up for lack of sleep, so dozed for a while.  When I woke up, it was to see that the clouds had cleared and so there were some good aerial shots to be taken. They were quite revealing, and, as it turns out, demonstrated to me how easy it is to miss a story if you’re not paying attention.

Out of my side of the plane, I saw mainly forests.

but what I missed was the signs of cultivation even among the hills, which you can see bottom left in this photo.

What Jane saw on the other side of the aircraft was a radically different story – that of massive agricultural exploitation.

which extended pretty all the way up to Lake Alaotra, which lies about halfway between Tana and Maroantsetra, the airport we were headed to.

At the north end of the lake, there were extensive rice plantations.

Even in the forested areas, it was possible to see the consequences of this exploitation in brown water in the rivers caused by agricultural run-off.

The flight had given me entirely the wrong impression about the state of the land in this area of Madagascar.  It turned out that Tom, our fellow passenger, is a distinguished academic – a Professor and chair of the Global Health Institute at Emory University in Atlanta, Georgia in the USA, and heavily involved with the Valbio Centre at Ranomafana, which works to protect Madagascar’s unique and biologically diverse ecosystems through conservation science and projects that directly benefit the local people.

It’s the first time I’ve ever met someone who merits a Wikipedia entry.

In later conversations with Tom, we learned a huge amount about the Madagascan environment including its reckless over-exploitation – 90% deforestation across the island – and its consequences to the health of the population; for example, one in six children born in Madagascar die before their first birthday.  Some reforestation projects are under way, but those aerial photos give some insight into the scope of the problems faced by the people here.

Eventually we landed at Maroantsetra, a decidedly rural airport.

The final stage of our journey to today’s destination – Masoala Forest Lodge – was by boat; but we had to get to the boat first, a journey which was undertaken in the sort of transport

which, it turned out, was essential for anyone trying to get anywhere on the local roads.

We passed the outskirts of the village, but the ride was so bumpy that I completely failed to get any decent photos of the life we were passing, which is a shame; it being Sunday morning, people were going home from church (or possibly to the pub, I don’t know) and so were dressed in their finery.

The boatport was rudimentary

but it had a decent loo (something we had been warned was not available at the airport) and, importantly, a boat.

It was also a chance for us to meet Ursula, who was our guide from the Masoala Forest Lodge. Accompanied by Pascal, the other guide from the lodge, she shepherded Tom, Jane and me aboard and we set off for what was a long, bumpy and really not very interesting hour’s ride to get to the lodge. There were a few other small boats out on the water, powered either by hand or by sail

but otherwise precious little of interest to distract us. So we were glad to get to the Forest Lodge, and were made warmly welcome by Jessie and Alban with a drink and a short presentation about How Things Worked Here, which seemed both content-rich and relaxed at the same time – no mean feat of organisation. There are many possible activities on offer – wildlife walks, kayaks, snorkeling, canoeing – all in a lovely rainforest setting, and executed with as much attention paid to sustainability as possible; built in local materials, powered by solar power, serving locally-sourced produce at mealtimes and so forth. It’s an effortlessly friendly place, superbly organised and a great place for what we were primarily interested in, which is to see some of the wildlife for which Madagascar is justly famed.

Alban showed us to our accommodation

which was the point at which I realised that Jane had snared me into something that was dangerously approximate to glamping – nice and comfortable, yes, but imposing a need to get dressed and to tackle a flight of stairs should one need to visit the loo during the night.

Hmmmm….

Having dropped off our bags, we went to the lounge area where we were once again made welcome and offered cocktails and lunch, which was very good.  After just seven hours’ sleep over the last two nights, a siesta then beckoned before tea and a short excursion on an outrigger sailing boat which was parked in front of the bar.

The enjoyment of the day continued relentlessly thereafter, with sundowner cocktails

and dinner, which was, again, a very good meal. Much was made of the fact that the sun had been shining, which apparently is a departure from previous days.

After dinner,  we had our first chance to see some of that wildlife, on a night walk.  Similar to our time in Costa Rica, night time is the right time to see some animals, particularly the nocturnal ones, and so Ursula and Pascal took the three of us for a short walk around the local trails. As was the case in Costa Rica, I was astonished at the skill of both guides at spotting animals that I would have simply walked by, and with their knowledge about them.  The walk was a good introduction to the local wildlife.  There are 10 species of Lemur in the Masoala forest, and we found several within walking (or, in my case, stumbling) distance of the lodge.

Wooly Lemurs
Wooly Lemur
Mouse Lemur
Mouse Lemur

Masoala Sportive Lemur

We also caught sight of a bamboo lemur, but it was photographically uncooperative.  As well  as lemurs, we saw some of the other denizens of the forest.

Malagasy Kingfisher
Bright-eyed Tree Frog
Cyligramma joa Boisduval

Cyligramma joa Boisduval

Erebus Walkeri

Erebus Walkeri

At this point it started to become apparent why what we were walking around in was called a rainforest, so we retired swiftly to the lounge area and thence to bed for the night.

Before we retired, we discussed plans for the morrow and decided that, weather permitting, we’d go for a morning hike a short way up the coast.  This thing, “weather permitting”, is a feature of staying at the lodge.  The Masoala rainforest is the largest area of rainforest on Madagascar and the Masoala National Park is the largest protected area on the island. I have been to things that called themselves rainforests before, but never one as wet as this.  All the people we talked to seemed to be overjoyed that the sun had actually shone today, and equally uncertain as to what tomorrow’s weather would be like. So we’ll take a check on the rain and perhaps the hike will be a reasonable plan.  Stay tuned to find out.

Getting there

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Friday May 31 2024 – In what is a strong candidate to be our most exotic trip yet, we are travelling to Madagascar to spend about three weeks exploring the place.  This will be our first time in Africa. Well, not quite; we visited South Africa a decade ago, but I don’t think that really counts as Proper Africa, whereas Madagascar definitely does, in my book.  I’m quite daunted at times by what awaits us, despite the reassurance that comes from knowing that the whole thing has been planned by an expert – Kate at Whisper and Wild has put together an itinerary which takes us all over the island to experience the widest variety of what it has to offer in the time available.

Lemurs, mainly.

Actually, I expect there will be a bewildering variety of wildlife for me to attempt to take photographs of, under the auspices of various guides who will be looking after us as we go along.  Given our experience in Costa Rica, I’m expecting to test their patience to the limit as they try to point out wildlife that they can see clearly but which I’m struggling to make out.

Preparation actually started quite some time ago. Because this is Exotic Foreign, as opposed to just Normal Foreign, we needed various jabs to protect us against the multitude of potential lurgies awaiting the unwary – typhoid, tetanus, polio and diphtheria. And there’s malaria, medication of course, which is optional, but which we decided would be a Good Thing.  I have no idea what it’s like to suffer malaria, but, at 71, I’m not sure I want to find out, particularly since an infection could well prejudice our next trip*.  Anyway, a major discovery as part of the preparation is that malaria tablets cost three quid a pop, and we each needed 32 of ’em. Not a huge cost in the overall scheme of things, but slightly unsettling when you’ve got used to free access to medication.

The itinerary has broken one of the rules which Jane and I like to observe whenever we can, which is to avoid the ghastliness of early morning flights.  Sadly, in order to get there in one day, we have to catch our first aeroplane at 0615 tomorrow morning; we fly first to Paris and then board an 11-hour hop to Antananarivo, the capital of Madagascar. That being the case, an overnight stay at an airport hotel is called for, and we find ourselves in the Crowne Plaza, by Heathrow’s Terminal 4, which is somewhere we haven’t been to for well over a decade. It will be grim to have to wake up at 4am in order to stumble across to check in, but at least the hotel room is well-equipped.

It may not be Twinings Finest, but at 3.30am one’s taste buds are unlikely to be that discerning.

Saturday 1 June 2024 – I’ve never been at an airport at opening time before, so today was a first.  Terminal 4 at 0415 is not a busy place

and there was actually a queue waiting for security to open.

Everything went very smoothly – we didn’t even have to take phones and other hardware out of our bags, which is a blessing – and by 0430 we were able to take a seat by our gate.  There was a small ripple of excitement for some people at 0500,

and Jane went to get us some coffee once the initial queue had died down.

The last time I travelled to Paris, it seemed to me that the various terminal 2 buildings at Paris Charles de Gaulle were all quite small – terminals 2A to 2E were all of a size and not at all imposing (Terminal 2E was opened in 2003 and had 11 gates).  That said, my last visit to Paris was in 2010. How things have changed in the intervening years!  Now, Terminal 2E has a train connecting three stations, each with a group of gates.  We had to get from station K to station M (after first having to go through a considerably less smooth security operation than we saw at Heathrow) and then saw the extent of this section of the terminal.

Our flight was slightly delayed, so we had a short wait in the terminal – an opportunity for some more coffee – during which Jane got an update from the people who run the first segment of our trip, the Masoala Forest Lodge.

It was good news and bad news.

The good news was that they were actually expecting us and could provide details of the next day’s travel arrangements to get us from Antananarivo, (aka Tana) the Madagascan capital, to the north east of the island. The bad news was the travel arrangements themselves.  The size of Madagascar, and the undeveloped nature of that area, means that getting to the lodge involves a flight.  We had to check in for that flight at 7am. Our departure was eventually quite significantly delayed; last-minute baggage to be loaded, air traffic delay and a technical issue meant that our landing time was around midnight and we still had to clear immigration, get some local currency and transfer to our hotel.

I’m very glad that we had been at the front of the bus, as it meant that we were among the first off the plane and therefore towards the front of the various queues we had to go through.  The first queue was to buy a visa – €35 for us, a short stay 30-day visa. Then we had to queue at passport control, and it became clear that the queues for those behind us was beginning to become quite lengthy.

The queue for passport control

Behind us, the lengthening queue to buy a visa

We had an anxious wait for our bags, partly because at first we waited by the wrong carousel. In our defense, there were no signs to tell us what was coming out where.  In the end, Jane went off and found our bags on another carousel, to much relief all round.

A driver, Aina (?sp – rhymes with hyena), was waiting for us, and after I’d changed some money into local currency (Aryary) he escorted us out to his car. He cautioned us not to let anyone else touch our bags. The reason for this became clear as we left the terminal; there were legions of people hanging around, some in official-looking gilets, but also a few others, one of whom walked with us to Aina’s car. It became clear that he was after a handout even if he hadn’t done anything to help us.  I have a feeling that this won’t be the only time we come across this behaviour.

The hotel – Relais des Plateaux – is only a few minutes’ drive from the airport and (according to its website) is dead posh, but the timings meant that we weren’t in a position to appreciate any luxury; instead another severely curtailed night’s sleep beckoned.

The journey to the lodge looks to be Quite Interesting.  The flight is a charter flight rather than a scheduled one, so heaven knows what manner of aircraft we’ll be on. It’s followed by a boat ride of about an hour, during which we’re enjoined to let the crew stow our day packs to avoid them getting sea spray all over them. It might even be possible to see whales on the boat ride, who knows? Come back to these pages in due course to find out how the day went, won’t you?

 

* “Where’s that,” I hear you cry?  You’ll have to watch these pages to find out, won’t you?

Camino Finisterre Day 13: Walkin’ back to Santiago, whoop-ah, oh yeah, yeah*

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Tuesday 14 May 2024 – Whilst we had a reasonably comfortable stay, the Hotel Millan is not a place I would recommend; any better days it might once have seen are many, many days ago. So we weren’t tempted to linger after breakfast, and in any case the weather forecast made a prompt start seem a good idea; cloudy and showers were the order of the morning, with the prospect of rain in the afternoon.

We set off just after 0830 in light rain, retracing our steps to Santiago whence we started on May 2nd.  We passed sights that I don’t remember from that walk, such as this dovecote

and some that I do, such as the impressive gates to the Pazo de Albariña,

which is some kind of a historical landmark.

The weather stayed gloomy, with occasional light showers, so when we walked through Ponte Maceira I was glad that we had seen it at its best on the way out to Finisterre. Nonetheless, I took a couple of photos, because it is a lovely village.

After Ponte Maceira, there is a longish climb up to Carballo, which is the high point of the day’s walk. (Coming the other way, you’ll remember, it’s also the high point after The Steep Bit, a decent example of the sort of mandatory component that makes Day One of any walk a bastard.) On the return leg back to Santiago it’s not so steep, and the ascent not so much, but it still tested my energy levels and, frankly, found them wanting. So I used photography to give me the excuse for some short rests on the way up.  For example, there was a beautifully red horreo to be admired,

and some decent scenery

which held out the tantalising possibility that the rain would stop.

In Trasmonte, we had the courage to walk past the tempting Casa Pancho, as we hadn’t quite done the qualifying distance after which a coffee stop is permissible. I looked in at Trasmonte’s intriguing Fisterra Bovine World, where I got a chance at a better shot at one of their sheds.

This is apparently a two-year project whereby thirteen different bovine breeds from all over the world will be fed and raised under the Galician livestock system, using feed typical of the area based on native corn, to measure the effect of the Galician System on each breed. Crikey.

Trasmonte features some photogenic corners,

and just beyond the village we passed the high point, which is more or less marked by a fonte.

The path then goes down, as is not uncommon after high points, and, in the case of this path, it goes down quite steeply (had I already mentioned this, maybe?).

It’s interesting that Google describes this path as “mainly flat”. I’d hate to take on something that it describes as “a bit of a hill”. Whatever, as the sun was now shining more or less reliably, it made for some attractive scenes on the way down.  It is a damp environment, as can be seen from the vast amounts of moss which adorn, well, pretty much everything.

At the bottom is a café called Bar O km 79, where we stopped for refreshments. I think its name stems from the distance from the bar to Finisterre. Whatever, a coffee was a welcome thing, and it meant that we were under shelter as a small spattering of rain swept through.

We pressed on

and it became clear that we were running into a stream of peregrinos who had set out that morning from Santiago.

It never became crowded with pilgrims, but the oncoming flow was steady and constant for several kilometres.

We passed another unusual horreo as we walked on.

It’s been noticeable that, starting around Negreira, the principal construction of the horreos has gone from entirely stone-built to stone-and-wood. This is a stone-and-wood one, as you can see, but the unusual thing about it is its base; typical horreos are mounted on stone “toadstools”, which serve to keep the rats at bay; this one simply has stone pillars, but of course there’s the ledge in place to make it impossible for rats to get at the riches within.

After a few more kilometres we came to our second stop, a bar called Os Arcos.  Whilst we got ourselves outside beer and pizza, an amusing little cabaret played out before us, involving the delivery of large gas cylinders.  With a huge din, this van pulled up.

Its mission was to deliver two full cylinders and take away two empties.  It would have been cruel and ill-mannered to video the troubles the driver had in unshipping the bars which hold the cylinders in place, but it was funny to watch – and very noisy. It involved a lot of hitting things with spanners and other bits of metal before he could get the cylinders out. He correspondingly had trouble getting the bars back into place as well before he drove off.  This video (if played with sound up) will give you some idea of the cacophony which surrounded this little vignette.

After resuming our journey, we passed a tulip tree in full bloom (something Jane tells me I’ve seen before, but not that I remember)

and the sun came out enough to make the scenery worth taking photos of.

The last of those is taken from the ascending path just a few kilometres from Santiago. Once again, I found it really hard work, even though it wasn’t all that steep; but we were rewarded at the top with our first sight of the iconic towers of Santiago Cathedral.

Slightly further on, one gets an even better view

and I was pleased to be able to see it whilst the sun was shining, something it wasn’t doing on our outbound walk.

The cathedral continued to dominate local streets as we made our way through the outskirts

and soon enough we were in the Plaza del Obradoiro

and shortly thereafter back at our hotel, the massive San Martin Pinero monastery building.

We’d walked the complete final stage today, covered 21km, and arrived in the sunshine, which was a nice way to finish our Camino Finisterre. It’s not been a classic achievement for us like completing the Camino Francés was last year – the weather and my digestive issues had intervened to make it a bit of a disjointed experience – but we still had a quiet sense of satisfaction.

What do I think of this Camino? I think it’s worth doing for anyone who has not visited Muxia and/or Cape Finisterre, which are both attractive, charismatic places, but probably less so for people who have visited these before. We found the endless eucalyptus plantations, and their aftermath (blasted earth and chewed-up trails) a bit tedious and depressing; it’s a shame that people’s livings depend on planting and harvesting this invasive species. The poor weather we had in places took some of the gilt off the gingerbread, for sure, although there’s a case to say that this is our fault for not having industrial-strength waterproofs with us.

That said, we’ve stayed in some great places – As Pias in Olveiroa, Casa de Balea in Corcubión and the excellent Hotel Semaforo at Cape Finisterre come immediately to mind – and the trip has got us walking again after a period where it was too difficult to get out and about. Assuming that Vueling don’t cock things up and ruin our journey home, we’ve had a pleasant couple of weeks, which of course included visiting A Coruña and Lugo; and We Will Be Back – our plans include taking on the Camino Portugues. As and when we undertake this journey – and all the others, of course – you can rest assured that I’ll be writing about our travels in these pages.

Hasta la próxima!

 

* Sorry about the title. Anyone younger than me will probably never have heard of Helen Shapiro, a teen star in the early 60s with a big voice and a big hit called “Walkin’ Back To Happiness”, which I, of course, had on my brain for the whole of today’s walk.