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Duncan Murrell - A Whale of a Time

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Duncan Murrell - A Whale of a Time

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  • Transport just about anywhere in Madagascar is very difficult because of the lack of good roads and the seasonal heavy rains, but to travel along the east coast is particularly difficult because there are many rivers to cross, and very few bridges that can actually survive the seasonally bad weather. There are rafts that are either moved manually with poles or powered by motorized boats, or people are ferried in the traditional dugout “pirogues”. I was amazed at how stable they make them look, even when they are standing up or perched high up on the stern, because when I tried to paddle one, there was only going to be one place that I would end up, and that was in the water.
    Kayaking-Madagascar-journey10.jpg
  • Transport just about anywhere in Madagascar is very difficult because of the lack of good roads and the seasonal heavy rains, but to travel along the east coast is particularly difficult because there are many rivers to cross, and very few bridges that can actually survive the seasonally bad weather. There are rafts that are either moved manually with poles or powered by motorized boats, or people are ferried in the traditional dugout “pirogues”. I was amazed at how stable they make them look, even when they are standing up or perched high up on the stern, because when I tried to paddle one, there was only going to be one place that I would end up, and that was in the water.
    Kayaking-Madagascar-journey11.jpg
  • I gave up on trying to find my paddle, and tried to find a quiet stretch of beach to make camp; I wasn’t really in the mood for attracting a big audience that evening. But as I was racing through the surf towards the beach I saw some people pouring out of the trees and racing towards me, and they eagerly helped to drag my kayak away from the surf. Looking along the beach I could see a line of huts set back from the beach, and there were more people swarming towards me! Greetings ensued and then I started collecting firewood. I assembled a big pile of wood to be fed to the fire gradually whilst cooking my dinner and when I turned around I was horrified to see that they had set the whole pile ablaze; it was party time and the occasion called for a blazing bonfire to celebrate my arrival. It was time to chill out, so I relinquished any prospect of dinner and a quiet evening, and joined the party. I made tea and tried to find as many drinking containers as possible. Darkness settled and the crackling fire illuminated the circus of animated laughing faces around me. My phrasebook once again became the centre of attention and everyone wanted to have a go at trying to speak some English. The trials and tribulations of the day were soon forgotten amidst the laughter.<br />
I camped near the village for a couple of days, doing more repairs and trying to heal my sores. I continued to be the centre of attention of the village, and many people stopped by to observe the strange piece of flotsam that had washed up on their beach. The apparent village leader milked me as frequently as possible for new English phrases. His big opportunity came when it was time for me to leave, and he put his newly learnt expressions into practice by giving a running commentary on my departure - “Duncan Murrell is leaving today and the sun is shining, it is not cloudy, he had a good time here” – all perfectly enunciated like David Attenborough describing the actions of a wild animal.
    Kayaking-Madagascar-journey16.jpg
  • I gave up on trying to find my paddle, and tried to find a quiet stretch of beach to make camp; I wasn’t really in the mood for attracting a big audience that evening. But as I was racing through the surf towards the beach I saw some people pouring out of the trees and racing towards me, and they eagerly helped to drag my kayak away from the surf. Looking along the beach I could see a line of huts set back from the beach, and there were more people swarming towards me! Greetings ensued and then I started collecting firewood. I assembled a big pile of wood to be fed to the fire gradually whilst cooking my dinner and when I turned around I was horrified to see that they had set the whole pile ablaze; it was party time and the occasion called for a blazing bonfire to celebrate my arrival. It was time to chill out, so I relinquished any prospect of dinner and a quiet evening, and joined the party. I made tea and tried to find as many drinking containers as possible. Darkness settled and the crackling fire illuminated the circus of animated laughing faces around me. My phrasebook once again became the centre of attention and everyone wanted to have a go at trying to speak some English. The trials and tribulations of the day were soon forgotten amidst the laughter.<br />
I camped near the village for a couple of days, doing more repairs and trying to heal my sores. I continued to be the centre of attention of the village, and many people stopped by to observe the strange piece of flotsam that had washed up on their beach. The apparent village leader milked me as frequently as possible for new English phrases. His big opportunity came when it was time for me to leave, and he put his newly learnt expressions into practice by giving a running commentary on my departure - “Duncan Murrell is leaving today and the sun is shining, it is not cloudy, he had a good time here” – all perfectly enunciated like David Attenborough describing the actions of a wild animal.
    Kayaking-Madagascar-journey17.jpg
  • It was hard to tell from my nautical chart exactly where I could expect to find protection from offshore coral reefs. There appeared to be stretches where I would have to take my chances and run the gauntlet on the open sea and then hope to find a way of getting back inside the next stretch of protective coral reef. Sometimes they abutted right up to the shore or there were too many breakers to negotiate. It was a constant maze that I had to negotiate and make the best choices for. I stopped at a village called Vinanivao to see if I could pick up some of the usual provisions like baguettes, biscuits, onions, tomatoes and bananas. I limped through the hot streets dragging my bloated foot beside me and having to seek out the shade because the hot sand was scorching my feet. It wasn’t just the sand and my bad leg that made me feel uncomfortable, as the locals only stared at me as if I was an alien invader. It was the first remote village that I had passed through where I didn’t feel completely welcome. Sitting down was always a great relief now, even if I still had to keep moving my foot around to find the least uncomfortable position. By contrast, the next village that I passed afforded me a memorable welcome even if I decided to stay in my kayak. I skirted the beach and was spotted by a group of young boys frolicking in the water. They came rushing over to me and started clowning around, plunging, splashing, wrestling and plenty of funny faces. I could have spent the day with those little clowns enjoying their simple life but my bad foot meant that I had to keep pressing on to reach a doctor. Sometimes the pain was so unbearable that I had to lay on my side and recite a rhyme until the pain abated. But eventually the sore on the back of my ankle burst open and erupted its suppurating contents, leaving a gaping hole, but at least the pressure and some of the pain was relieved.
    Kayaking-Madagascar-journey42.jpg
  • It was hard to tell from my nautical chart exactly where I could expect to find protection from offshore coral reefs. There appeared to be stretches where I would have to take my chances and run the gauntlet on the open sea and then hope to find a way of getting back inside the next stretch of protective coral reef. Sometimes they abutted right up to the shore or there were too many breakers to negotiate. It was a constant maze that I had to negotiate and make the best choices for. I stopped at a village called Vinanivao to see if I could pick up some of the usual provisions like baguettes, biscuits, onions, tomatoes and bananas. I limped through the hot streets dragging my bloated foot beside me and having to seek out the shade because the hot sand was scorching my feet. It wasn’t just the sand and my bad leg that made me feel uncomfortable, as the locals only stared at me as if I was an alien invader. It was the first remote village that I had passed through where I didn’t feel completely welcome. Sitting down was always a great relief now, even if I still had to keep moving my foot around to find the least uncomfortable position. By contrast, the next village that I passed afforded me a memorable welcome even if I decided to stay in my kayak. I skirted the beach and was spotted by a group of young boys frolicking in the water. They came rushing over to me and started clowning around, plunging, splashing, wrestling and plenty of funny faces. I could have spent the day with those little clowns enjoying their simple life but my bad foot meant that I had to keep pressing on to reach a doctor. Sometimes the pain was so unbearable that I had to lay on my side and recite a rhyme until the pain abated. But eventually the sore on the back of my ankle burst open and erupted its suppurating contents, leaving a gaping hole, but at least the pressure and some of the pain was relieved.
    Kayaking-Madagascar-journey44.jpg
  • I had my first sighting of a humpback whale as we approached Nosy Boraha in the ferry. Isle Sainte Marie is a popular tourist destination with a few expensive resorts. I reassembled my kayak at the main port, Ambodifotra, and headed south along the sheltered inside coast to visit a whale researcher based at the island’s most well known resort, the Princess Bora lodge. It was wonderful to be paddling in calm sea conditions for the first time on the trip, and being able to land anywhere without having to contend with large breakers. I paddled close to the coral reefs and was dismayed to see how degraded and barren they have become; there were very few fish and most of the coral was bleached and dead. Many of the local people that I passed were coming down to the water’s edge to investigate the mysterious voyager in a bright red kayak; they are only used to seeing the traditional wooden dugout pirogues. I passed these two boys on their small homemade raft, who were very inquisitive about me, but understandably very shy.
    Kayaking-Madagascar-journey14.jpg