Mutinondo: Lost in the Wilderness

Writer: Nicky Dunnington-Jefferson Photography: Nicky Dunnington-Jefferson

‘My pen has danced over paper… up big granite boulders, in painted shelters, by splashing rivers, among waving grasses[and] under shady trees, recording Mutinondo through the seasons….’ These are the words of Zambian artist Quentin Allen in his beautifully illustrated booklet Mutinondo Magic. And now I too was to explore Mutinondo, and who better to accompany me as guide than Quentin – the man himself.

I am not in the habit of getting lost – and certainly not in a location as remote and untrammelled as Mutinondo Wilderness, a huge tract of privately owned land comprising 10,000 hectares and located to the west of South Luangwa National Park. The inclusion of this area on my Zambia itinerary was a hearty recommendation by Leslie Nevison of Lusaka-based Mama Tembo Tours and I took her at her word.

To reach Mutinondo, we had travelled south down the Great North Road to the turn-off and then driven for about 24 kilometres along a reasonable dirt road through miombo woodland, our journey punctuated by stops to photograph flowers and plants. And I’d caught my first glimpse of majestic Mayense, one of the inselbergs or whaleback hills that characterise this region. We reached Mutinondo Wilderness Lodge and were met by Frank Willems and Inge Akerboom, the then management couple. I was shown to my accommodation, Mulombwa, a splendid stone chalet with a separate bathroom facility including an enormous bath, shower, basin and a loo open to the elements on one side. There was also a basin in the bedroom – cold water only. Water is solar-heated and boosted by wood-burning boilers. Each of the lodge’s four chalets is named after the local wood used in its handcrafted furniture and fittings. Quentin decided to camp at Mutinondo Wilderness Camping, a lovely campsite not far from the lodge. The friendly bar operates an ‘honesty’ system: you mark up your drinks and pay when you leave.

While having a cup of coffee before setting off for a walk, as a devotee of anything that crawls, creeps, spits or slithers, I was delighted to spot what Frank told me was a rainbow skink. This

sighting augured well for the rest of my stay. Quentin and I headed off on our own – after all, Quentin had spent considerable time at Mutinondo and knew the area well. Named after a pilot, Charlie Merrett, we had as our target Charlie’s Rock, with the promise of sundowners at the bottom once we’d scaled its heights. At first, ‘old man’s beard’ appeared almost fluorescent in the sunshine and spiders nestled safely in their webs. Later, as the light began to fade and we were nearing the top, a freckled nightjar flew by on noiseless wings. It wasn’t a difficult walk, our feet scaling mostly black granite rock, but on the way down the indistinct path through tall grass and rocks became somewhat of a challenge. And we kept stopping to admire and photograph the magnificent sunset, with tiny crescent moon and wondrous dark clouds, adding more time to the descent.

Sure enough, Frank and Inge, plus chairs, nibbles, and gin and tonic, awaited us – perfect. Also, Frank found a praying mantis to show me, with exquisite wing colouring. On the drive back to the lodge we espied a spotted eagle owl in a tree and large scrub hares crouched motionless in the centre of the track, transfixed in the headlights. After a long and wonderfully hot bath I repaired to the bar and my next wildlife encounter: a baboon spider in all its hairy glory on the wall behind the bar. After an excellent dinner, my first day at Mutinondo was complete. Upon request I now had an extra duvet, the fire in my bedroom had done its duty, and clad in thermals I spent a warm night in my stone sanctuary.

By seven o’clock the next day the sun was well up and my tea arrived in a delightful basket, along with some biscuits. After a warming cuppa I had breakfast, after which, well fuelled up, Quentin and I set off to explore Mutinondo. We started near the campsite and it was a case of ‘eyes down’ as soldier ants marched purposefully across our path; the troopers forming the outer rim of the column appeared agitated and indignant. We continued on our way, Quentin answering my endless botanical questions as I took yet another photograph of a plant or brightly hued flower. I was particularly interested to find a cycad – I had only seen them before in Australia. Cycads are ancient seed plants dating as far back as the Jurassic period. They are dioecious, meaning that each plant is either male or female.

Along our route we stopped at three waterfalls, Choso, Ndubaluba and Mulinso, as we followed the course of the Musamfushi River. All was going well and my camera was working overtime as proteas, aloes, hibiscus, a wonderful orange bloom Hypericophyllum compositarum and graceful water lilies filled my frame. We passed Kapinda’s Rock and Quentin told me that on one stormy afternoon, Kapinda, a local hunter and poacher, was crossing the river on a log bridge when, burdened with booty, he slipped and fell into the rushing river. The rocky hill which we could see clearly bears his name.

We spent some time at Mulinso Falls and then, in the spirit of adventure, crossed the river and decided to go bush bashing. This was fun and fine in the forest to begin with, surrounded by Brachystegia (miombo, a genus of tree embracing many species) and we moved happily through the woodland. We climbed halfway up Klipspringer Rock and then sat and enjoyed our sandwiches for lunch before proceeding onwards through the trees. It then became apparent that all was not as it seemed. Once in the forest it was impossible to make out any of the granite outcrops so familiar to Quentin. And there was no track. In other words, we were well and truly lost – and Quentin had omitted to bring a compass or a GPS! What’s more, we were running out of water.

What to do? I was convinced that Quentin, a man not prone to panic, would lead us to safety and we filled our water bottles from a clear stream. Somehow we found our way to Mafone dambo – a dambo is a shallow wetland – and Quentin looked around to try and identify any familiar rocks in sight. Things were looking up when we found a path coming out of the dambo, which we followed until we reached a junction, then, bingo, Quentin knew where he was – not far from Hyrax Rock. Despite tired legs – we’d been walking since nine in the morning and it was now after four in the afternoon – we carried on to the rock paintings at Hyrax Rock. These pictographs are faded and not easily decipherable but somehow one sensed the spirits of the artists who had left their mark there 2,000 years ago.

It was a long walk back, passing Kaloko Rock and with wonderful views of Mayense. Finally, after one more climb, we saw familiar buildings and my adventure came to a happy end. I think I earned the g & t that Quentin kindly bought me, but I could not have wished for a nicer person with whom to be ‘lost’ in this most wild and wonderful of wildernesses. Next time Quentin promises to take a directional device along.

Left page (top) - This is Aeollanthus engleri Briq. It is a species in the genus Aeollanthus (mint family) and displayed a lovely splash of purple in Mafone dambo

Left page (middle) - Mutinondo Wilderness, located in Muchinga Province in northern Zambia, is dominated by huge granite inselbergs or whalebacks

Left page (bottom) - Mulinso Falls, on the Musamfushi River

Right page (left) - Orange aloes brighten up the wilderness