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SEARCHING FOR GHOSTS IN MADAGASCAR |
| By Dave Dowdel |
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There it was again, closer this time. A haunting cry pierced the
rainforest on this chilly morning. The ghostly tone repeatedly
rose and fell, until answered by an echoing but more distant spirit.
Drawing us like a siren's call, we hoped at last to see our first ghost of Madagascar. We had flown into the capital, Antananarivo ('Tana') two days earlier to
discover some of the ingredients to which Gerald Durrell referred when he described Madagascar as 'shaped like a badly made omelette lying off the
east coast of Africa but containing - as a properly made omelette should -
a wealth of good things inside it'. Our first issue had been transport. You can hire a car, but will need to hire a driver, and pay for their food and lodgings if you are away overnight. Having a local driver is a good idea however, as many roads
are in a poor state of repair or non-existent. A 4WD is good for national
parks where road conditions may deteriorate in the wet season (November to
April). Alternatively, you can purchase a tour. We opted for a Malagasy-owned company that organises car-based tours.
We left Tana with our driver, Lala, in his shining Peugeot Estate.
Away from the city, we were captivated by the rice terraces
lining the valleys of the hauts plateau. Rice is the main currency here.
Malagasy families bend double under the sun, knee high in water, deftly
tending delicate fledgling rice shoots, in a daily ritual that is repeated
across the lemon and lime tapestry of fields hugging the red contours of the valleys in this region.
Madagascar is famous for its 40 species of endemic lemurs, named after the Latin word lemurs meaning 'ghost', a reference to their ability to melt silently into the forest, leaving you questioning whether they were just a momentary creation of your imagination. They were the main aim of our safari. Our first destination was Parc National d'Andasibe-Mantadia ('Andasibe'), a three-hour drive along one of the few well-surfaced roads on the island. Andasibe is home to the Indri, the largest and loudest of
the lemurs, and owner of the siren call that had so entranced us.
As gathering eastern winds cleared misty remnants from the treetops and
cicadas commenced their daily buzzing, we trekked into the cool,
sweet interior of the rainforest with our park guide. He led us deftly
and enthusiastically along narrow trails, as temperatures steadily rose
with the climbing sun. Our guide gently pointed out endemic palms, ferns
and orchids, chameleons and geckos of all sizes, shapes and colours and
even a snake that casually crossed our path. 'Don't worry,' he reassured,
'Snakes here are poisonous, not dangerous. They are backfanged.'
Reassuring indeed.
After an hour, our guide triumphantly beamed with one finger to his lips,
his other hand pointing ahead. It was an Indri. Effortlessly clasping
the scaly trunk of a nearby tree, it nonchalantly gazed in our direction - staring eyes in a bear-like black and white face. We soon realized there were more. It was a family of five, with two young who playfully showered us in leaves from their location high in the trees above us. Seemingly unconcerned by our presence, all five ventured to the forest
floor only metres away to forage for salt (a risky endeavour for arboreal
lemurs). Once more in the trees, they raised their heads skyward, and
sang out to the leafy canopy above and across the forest beyond (Indri
song can be heard up to 3km away). Answering songs returned from all
around, some close, some seemingly mere echoes. Satisfied that each
family knew where every other family was, the Indri returned to eating breakfast, and there, we reluctantly left them.
Andasibe is one of nine national parks established to preserve Madagascar's unique, varied habitats and the endemic flora and fauna that occupy them. These parks, together with smaller reserves, are like islands in a sea of deforested land, a legacy of tavy ('slash and burn' agriculture) practised by generations of Malagasy, which has resulted in
the destruction of 85% of the native forest. Andasibe is the closest national park to the capital and therefore the most frequented. Avoid weekends for a quieter visit. Other national
parks reached by road are Ranomafana, Andringitra and Isalo, all south of
Tana down the main highway (RN7). Each park reveals different aspects of
Madagascar's landscape - rainforest in Ranomafana, granite peaks in
Andringitra and the sandstone massif of Isalo. Lemurs are present in all
the parks, although you are more likely to see them in Andasibe and
Ranomafana. All require entry permits, obtainable from park offices.
Driving as far south as Isalo on the RN7 means negotiating an unsurfaced
section of road. Where the bitumen ends, dozens of dirt tracks filter out
into the surrounding grassland, like a river delta. It takes about half
an hour to negotiate this stretch and is probably best not attempted in
the wet, unless you have a 4WD. The government wants to seal this section
as a priority. RN7 also fords some rivers next to the shattered remains
of road bridges, a legacy from the political problems preceding Marc
Ravelomanana's presidency.
If you want to visit other national parks, then internal flights are
necessary unless you have plenty of time. Air Madagascar offers a good
range of flights which are payable in US dollars or Malagasy
francs. From Andasibe, we drove west to the Tsiribihina River, to embark on a
three day lakana (dugout canoe) trip down its waters, coloured by
eroded soil from its widening banks. Our lakana, boatmen, food and
camping equipment were all provided as part of the tour, except sleeping
bags. We set off to enthusiastic overtures of 'Salama vazana!' ('Hello
foreigner!') from waving village children. The river was contrasting, at
times lazily meandering across shelterless plains grazed by occasional
zebu herds, or enclosed by forest, the branches bearing
colourful chattering parrots, silent purposeful kingfishers, and
inquisitive lemurs staring intently from tree-top perches. Our days were spent enjoying
the changing scenery, its villages, people and wildlife, whilst at night we camped by firelight on sandy river banks under the ribbon of the Milky Way, admiring festivals of
lightning cast by distant tropical storms.
After three days and nights floating downriver, we transferred to a 4WD
bound for the Reserve Forestière Kirindy ('Kirindy') to the south. The
region is noted for its elaborately painted and carved tombs belonging to
local Sakalava people. The reserve is best visited early in the morning
or late afternoon, as many lemur and other species here are nocturnal. Be sure to bring a hat and plenty of suncream for protection. Accompanied by a local guide, we trekked into the dusty forest. We did not have to wait long to be rewarded with a large family of brown lemurs all around us in the trees and on the ground, gently grunting to
each other as they looked hopefully to us for food, several of them with
young clinging to their undersides. Further into the forest, Verreaux's
sifakas - a species restricted to Madagascar, cling high in the trees with their spindly limbs, watching us with wide yellow-eyed intensity.
From Kirindy, we headed further south to the Avenue du Baobab, an
impressive stand of giant baobab trees whose skeletal branches fan out
from bulbous trunks. Bright morning sunshine accompanied a short Air Madagascar flight from Morondava to Toliara further south. As the Otter's twin propellers hummed like a swarm of angry bees, we gazed down on Madagascar's western
coastline of white sandy beaches and azure seas.
Landing smoothly and on time in Toliara, we were greeted by the now
familiar hot winds of the south-west and Lala, standing by his ever clean,
polished Peugeot (no mean feat considering Madagascar's roads). We
left the town heading east on the RN7. Coastal prickly pears and palms were quickly
replaced by prairies and grassland, backed by distant flat-topped hills.
Our first stop was Isalo, a region of eroded sandstone massifs which would
not look out of place as a backdrop in a spaghetti western. The land here
belongs to the Bara people, semi-nomadic pastoralists whose wealth is
measured in zebu and where young men prove they are worthy of marriage by
zebu rustling.
Isalo is a great place to walk, with exposed, elaborately carved plateaux complemented by shady forested ravines, where you can view ring-tailed lemurs if you are lucky. Once again, a hat and suncream are essential as shade is scant on the ridges. Guides can be
arranged in Ranohira. Our guide had an excellent knowledge of the area
and explained fady (taboos followed by local people) such as the
placing of stones on path-side cairns to appease guarding ancestors.
Highlights of the day included a visit to the Canyon des Makis (Lemur
Canyon), formerly misnamed the Canyon des Singes (Monkey Canyon) despite
the fact there are no monkeys in Madagascar. This is a lush well in a watered
and forested ravine locked in by sheer sandstone walls. There is also the
idyllic piscine naturelle, a waterfall-fed oasis of clear water, perfect
for cooling off after a day's walk in the sun.
From Isalo, we returned to the lush valleys of the hauts plateau to the
Anja reserve, near Ambalaveo. This small area of forest punctuated by
granite outcrops is managed by the local community. It provides an
opportunity to get up close and personal with ring-tailed lemurs, which
you can hand feed. The lemurs acrobatically leap onto your shoulders and
hang from your arms with their soft, padded clawless feet, providing
wonderful photo opportunities. The reserve is also a great place to see
one of the smallest chameleons in the world (about 5cm long and
camouflaged to look like dry leaf litter) and a boa constrictor.
Our final destination was a little-known gem called Forêt Naturelle de
Alatsara, located close to Ambohimahaso on the RN7 and a quiet alternative to
the nearby touristy Parc National de Ranomafana. Our guide took us into hills of eucalyptus and pine and valleys of darker endemic forest. Orchids were abundant, as well as the usual diet of chameleons and geckos, amongst frogs that looked like they had jumped out of an open paintbox. However, our greatest prize was the Milne-Edwards' sifakas, second in size to the Indri and almost completely black, with round red eyes like glowing embers. Whilst here, we stayed in a spacious ridge tent with a double bed, perched
on a wooden platform and front veranda overlooking the forest. Shared
facilities were clean and in the evenings we had candle-lit 'showers' (no
electricity here) by mixing buckets of hot and cold water to achieve the
desired temperature, the hot water heated for us individually by camp
staff using fallen wood from the forest. Gas lamps provided by the camp
enabled us to navigate after dark.
Dinner was in a small log cabin that comprised the restaurant and kitchen.
Whilst chatting over the day's events by candlelight, we watched our meals
being deftly prepared on wood stoves by Daniel Rajaona, a Malagasy chef,
trained in France. The smell and sound of our food sizzling away was
intoxicating after our walk in the forest. We enjoyed a starter of goat's cheese and tomato salad, followed by zebu steak, fried potatoes and
mushrooms and finished with crepes and jam.
We were soon to leave Madagascar, our three weeks almost over. Walking in the parks and reserves of this great red island had provided unforgettable experiences of contrasting cultures, unusual landscapes and unique animals. We had found our ghosts and left with an insatiable appetite to return one day to sample more of Madagascar's unique offerings. And yes, we had to agree with Gerald Durrell.
Dave Dowdell visited Madagascar in November 2003
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