Hiking across Nyika National Park

Claire and I set off from The Mushroom Farm at 7am on Wednesday morning. We were accompanied by Mike Malawi, our friend and porter. The three of us were heading up to Livingstonia, where we would meet Henry our ranger and guide, who would be taking us on a three day hike through Nyika National Park, ending at the Chilinda Camp. Claire and I had packed light, leaving most of our things with Cameron at The Mushroom Farm and Mike had packed, well, he had packed heavy. We leant Mike my big backpack, so he could fit his large blanket in it for the trip – it was to be very cold up in Nyika. So my big Osprey backpack was full to the brim with Mike’s giant blanket. He then also had the food for the trip in another compartment. Then, strapped to the outside of his bag was our tent, his tent, our sleeping bag and a roll mat for him to sleep on. It’s safe to say he was pretty well loaded up.

Before we’d even made it to Livingstonia Mike was struggling. His gigantic blanket was weighing him down far too much. We’d only walked around one kilometre and still had over 60 to go, so it was time to take some action. The blanket was ditched at a local store, and we agreed he could borrow one of our sleeping bags during the hike. Mike was pleased. So we made it to the top of the mountain, to Livingstonia and met with Henry our guide. Henry is in his mid fifties and used to work as a ranger in Nyika National Park. He knows the park like the back of his hand and often takes groups of tourists on hikes just like the one we were doing.

Dressed in his green ranger’s gear, with his nicely organised backpack and rifle slung over his shoulder, Henry looked well prepared. Claire and I knew that we were going to be pretty safe camping in the bush, but with animals and poachers around, we were glad Henry had brought his rifle along. Even if just to scare people and things away.

So we set off. The four of us marched from Livingstonia, heading on our way into the wilderness for three days, looking forward to our adventure. After only an hour or so we reached a village on the outskirts of the park and Henry stopped. He wanted a quick cup of maize beer and a cigarette. Henry grabbed a cup and began to down it. We all dropped our bags on the floor to make the most of the rest stop. Henry looked over after his beer, he had only meant to quickly neck one cup, but if we were stopping for a rest then he was sure as hell going to have another. Which he did. In fact, on our way to Nyika on the first day Henry stopped for a quite a few cups of maize beer and a lot of cigarettes.

The first day saw the four of us hike towards the outskirts of the National Park. We covered a huge distance and climbed a few mountains along the way. At one point we were stopping for a rest on the side of a dirt track when two men came past looking slightly drunk. They chatted to Henry in the local language for a while and then Henry let them have a sip on his juice. “They are poachers,” Mike told us, after they had left. “In the park Henry and them are enemies, outside the park they are friends.” We chuckled. Poaching in National Parks around Africa is a huge issue. Whilst in some places poachers are on the hunt for ivory or rhino horn to sell for huge profits, in Nyika it is mainly people hunting for bush meat to eat. Claire and I asked Henry if he’d ever been shot at by a poacher, and he told us he had. He said that one time a bullet flew inches past his head. Hopefully we wouldn’t encounter any on our walk.

Henry taking a break

As the first day drew to a close the four of us set up our camp on the edge of the national park. We put up our tents near a coffee plantation right near a stream where we could fetch water for cooking and making tea. I say we could fetch water, but what I really mean is local children could fetch water. As soon as we arrived a group of around seven or eight young boys came running and stood around ten feet from our camp staring at us. We were, by this point, far away from the beaten track, so they must not have been used to seeing white people. Claire and I didn’t mind. And, whenever we needed more water for our pots Henry would call them over and they’d each grab a pot and take it to the stream to fill up. We gave them some sweets to say thank you.

Mike and Henry made a fire and the four of us huddled under a tarp that Henry had set up to keep the rain off us as it had started to fall. The pair of them then made themselves some dinner, nsima and soya pieces. Nsima is the same food that we have seen all the way down Africa. In Uganda it was called pocho, in Tanzania it was called ugali and here in Malawi it’s called nsima. Essentially it is maize flour and water mixed up until it turns into a mash potato like consistency. I am not a huge fan of the taste, but Henry and Mike ate tons of the stuff. It must be the fuel that kept our ranger going, that kept him travelling such long distances all these years. Either that or the cigarettes, we couldn’t tell. Speaking of Henry’s cigarettes, he wasn’t smoking them out of a packet. He had a small plastic bag with dried tobacco leaf in it and he was rolling it up in notepad paper, something we’d never seen done before.

Henry, me and Mike

After they’d eaten their big blobs of white starchy nsima and their sauce of soya pieces, tomatoes and onions, it was time for Claire and I to cook our dinner over the camp fire. I made us some simple rice, with onions, garlic and tomatoes and added some ‘Rice Spice’, which Claire had bought the day before. Whilst we were eating a steady stream of drunk women came past, swaying from side to side with their babies strapped to their backs. They would stop at our camp and be overly friendly, bowing their heads and putting their hands together as a way to greet us. The movement may have been more elegant if they hadn’t been hammered from local maize beer, with their babies dangling precariously. They then giggled as they slowly made their way off into the evening, heading home to cook dinner, according to Mike.

The second day was to be the hardest day of hiking. Henry had warned us that there would be times when no one would be talking and we’d be making our way up some incredibly steep hills. We awoke and it was freezing. The fire was on and Mike and Henry were already huddled around it warming themselves. Mike made us all tea, which we were very grateful for, and then we packed up our camp and headed off into the national park. An hour or so later and we were in the wild. We wouldn’t come across another person for another two days as we slowly made our way over varying terrain. We’d climb mountains, pass shrubland, make our way over rolling hillsides and through thick forests. It was on the third day that we hit the hillsides. The terrain looked exactly like the one used in the old kids television show The Teletubbies. I had never appreciated just how picturesque that show was.

On the second night we camped deep in the middle of the park. The clear sky meant that we could see thousands of stars, but it also meant the temperature had dropped. After climbing mountains all day the four of us were exhausted but we sat around the camp fire until around eight o’clock telling stories. Henry started off by telling us that just a week before whilst in exactly the same spot we were sat, with a different group of tourists, he had spotted some poachers. He told the tourists to go to their tents and then fired his gun in their general direction to scare them off. They ran away. He said that he isn’t allowed to shoot at poachers, unless he is sure that they have guns, but in most cases a shot in their general direction is enough to make them scarper. Claire began to get worried about what we should do if poachers turned up…

Next up to tell a story was Mike. He lives in Chitimba, down by the lake. He told us of the time that he was out on the lake fishing with some friends when a giant storm sent their boat under. The four of them were stranded out in the middle of the lake in the night floating around trying to find where their boat had got to. Eventually, due to the weight of their clothes they all ended up taking things off to ensure that they’d be able to survive the night floating around. After one of them located the boat, the four men climbed on board and having lost their oars they began to paddle the boat back to shore. Mike told us that when they reached the shore they were three villages down the lake from their home. So the men all turned up in the morning at a random village in various states of undress, with one of them being completely naked.

By this time we had walked around fourty kilometres in two days, marching our way through the park for eight hours a day. We were, as you could imagine, all exhausted so went to bed. Claire and I were excited about the prospect of seeing wild animals on the last day of our walk as we made our way closer and closer to Chilinda Camp.

The final day was the nicest by far. The terrain was almost all gentle rolling hills and the views were gorgeous. As we neared the camp we started to see animals on the horizon. We saw bush bucks, warthogs, and large antelopes and then in the distance we saw the huge pine forest that signalled we were arriving at the camp. The final kilometre saw us pass through thousands of pine trees that were planted many years ago by the brits. Then, within minutes, we had made it. We were at Chilinda Camp, dropped our bags and threw ourselves on the sofas by the fire in the living room.

The plan was to camp in the site at Chilinda. However, after a gruelling three days hiking, and the fact that camping was rather expensive, we decided to spend a bit more and upgrade to a room. Claire and I were unsure about upgrading and then the man who ran the place told us that the room had a fireplace and a hot bath in it. A bath! We said yes instantly. Within moments we were in our room, out of the cold, and the bath was filling up with hot water.

The three day hike had been a wonderful experience. It was hard work. Very hard at times. We had covered over 60km of rough terrain in three days and had seen the national park from a different perspective. We’d watched the sun set knowing that there were no people for miles around, and woken up to fresh cups of tea made over the camp fire. Claire and I had had a great time chatting with Henry and Mike in the evenings, and were grateful to them both for the way they made the trip possible. We’d visited national parks in the past, but hiking across one and camping in the bush, was an experience that will stay with us both forever.