Cape Maclear –

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“You may camp in trade for enjoying music,” Watson informed us on our arrival at the Cape Maclear Eco Lodge with Kanthangu and his wife, Mbutchi (our couch surfing hosts from Blantyre).

Positioned on a picturesque seashore, I noticed the island that appeared to be a several hundred meters off-shore. 18 months ahead of I had swam to an island in Indonesia with Baz, a hundred ft off Lombok snorkelling about it.

“That island is extremely considerably,” Watson indicated. “It is nearly two kilometres.”

Hmm. “Think I’ll just swim close to here,” I grinned.

Hope and I set up our campsite, stringing up my hammock concerning the trees. The warmth begged for a dip. I hit the drinking water, swimming out to the tiny taxi boat anchored off-shore. The boat was becoming employed as a perch by cormorants and other lake birds I could not detect. I dove below till I could see the hull and then, with my lungs screaming for air, I breached the drinking water like a sperm whale and watched as the birds took flight, fearing the great furry lake monster that experienced just snuck up on them.

The drinking water at Cape Maclear is distinct and the bottom is sand with underwater grass increasing just up to the surface area of the water. It is like swimming by means of a forest cover. The only downside to this wonderful space was the volume of plastic I identified in the h2o, near to the shoreline.

At sunset Kanthungo and Mbutchi joined us as we walked together the seashore, sipping on beers, admiring the various resorts and discouraging all the regional youngsters that would operate up and say, “Gimme money,” hands stretched out.

I’d give them a piercing seem which they brushed off with a repeat of their demand from customers to which I would sternly say, “No,” and then continue to lecture them on why it is impolite to demand from customers revenue and why they shouldn’t understand that each foriegner they experience has money nor ought to they anticipate that every single white man or woman will give them cash.

They seemed at me blankly. “Gimme money,” they demanded, stretching out their minimal hands.


Even while it was Christmas, I bah-humbugged and refused to do any Christmas tracks or have anything at all to do with a single of the most commercialised and materialistic, paganistic holiday seasons that the Coca Cola Organization has served force to the forefront of all vacations (the ‘Christmas Spirit’ that makes all people so charitable and friendly should really be everyday, calendar year-spherical and not just in December. Human character. Go figure).

When playing, Watson presented us with two chilly beers on the home. Immediately after the present, though Kanthungo and Mbutchi went out to a club, Hope and I chilled on the seashore.

Sitting down in the shadows has its benefits. Folks walking along can’t see you. I utilized this to our gain and commenced to make animal noises and viewed with kid-like delight as persons jumped to the appears (I’m quickly entertained).

That evening I crashed in the hammock although Hope took the tent. Taking pleasure in the mild breeze I immediately fell asleep.

Right up until I was awoken by a couple of weighty drops of rain.

Shit. I scrambled out of my sleeping bag and shocked myself on how fast I managed to climb out of the hammock without having flipping over or tearing apart the mosquito net. Hope, hearing the thunder, had quickly designed place just as I crashed in as the clouds dropped their payload.

Bah humbug.


At first posted on the Nomad Diaries.

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Image courtesy of Hope Bowie.

 




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Cape Maclear –