Day Thirteen - Strictly Lokobe

 Having not been permitted to explore Lokobe when we were camping on the edge of it (it is classed as a “Strict Reserve”, which is not quite a national park, but similar), we booked a day-trip back there. We were told sternly that we would need to wear trousers and boots, so it was quite a contrast when we were introduced to our guide, Michaela, a young woman in a sequinned kaftan and flip-flops.

As our driver, Jean, drove us out of the hotel (in a car with a cracked windscreen), he halted before we got to the road. “What's wrong?” we asked, wondering if the car was broken.

“Chameleon” he answered, pointing at the hedge.

“Where?” we asked. “ I can't see anything other than that bright turquoise bit of- Oh, right.”

They weren't subtle.

We were driven through Hell-Ville, past the large cemetery with goats perched on the tombstones (sadly, I felt obliged to respect the fady prohibiting photography of tombs), through ylang-ylang plantations, and to the village of Ambatozavary. 

Ylang-ylang tree. They were all grotesquely stunted, but more sad than horrific.

Ylang-ylang blossoms

Ambatozavary (and pirogues)

 There, we boarded a leaking pirogue, were handed a paddle each, and we set off around the coast. Michaela hitched up her kaftan, sighed, and concentrated on bailing. She said she much preferred taking people on trips to Komba.

Traditional kayaker's photo (with paddle across face)

After about forty-five minutes, we landed in Ampasipohy, a small and rather charming little village. I think it is what Komba would have been like ten years ago. Yes, there were children singing and souvenir stalls, but far less blatantly than on Nosy Komba. 

 From Ampasipohy, we walked into the forest, having been warned to keep quiet so's not to disturb the wildlife. Thus it was that when we saw a maki, we said in hushed tones “Look, a lemur!”, at which point Michaela rolled her eyes and yelled “MAKI MAKI MAKI!” until the lemur wandered over to see if we had a banana.

Oooh, yeah!

Grey-backed sportive lemur. Nocturnal, hence the large eyes and peevish expression.

Boa. Sitting in a tree so close to the path we suspected it was planted by the guides.

Mantella frog (that's a thumb bottom left, stopping her hopping away. She's tiny!)

Vanilla flower

Spider. Seriously. Even the guides had to look twice when Tim pointed it out.

Crab spider (sorry for the focus - the web was moving in the wind)

Gecko licking nectar off banana flower

A walk which entailed much wildlife later, plus a translation confusion over the use of the Quinine tree (apparently Italians, who comprised the rest of the tour group, consider it to be “medicinal” as opposed to “with gin”), we headed back to the beach. 

Pirogues

Gift shop

Lokobe

There, we were served vast amounts of sea food and rum, and the Italians insisted on presenting a group of happily-minding-their-own-business local toddlers with colouring pencils, thus teaching them the art of begging from vahaza. 

 

Day Ten – Big Scary Teeth!

 The next morning the beach around our hut was covered in snake-tracks. We also spotted a set of rat tracks converging with a snake track, a scuffle, and then just the snake tracks continuing. Poor rat. He must have come into our bed for sanctuary, and we turfed him out to his doom.

Snake spoor

 Having drunk enough coffee to feel vaguely awake, we decamped and headed for Nosy Tanikely, a marine reserve off the coast of Nosy Be. This was probably the most wildlife-rich set of reefs we found, though we were a bit annoyed by the thirty-strong group of Italians who were churning through the water, scaring all the fish and leaving the water cloudy and tasting of sunblock. I was being reasonably brave and exploring the reef, when suddenly a large lump of coral three feet long got up and swam towards me with an open mouth and lots of TEETH! I shot back to the boat and sat there gibbering for about five minutes, when Liz headed rapidly to the boat and scrambled aboard.

“Oh my gosh, there was this huge brown frikkin' ugly... with...TEETH!”

About five minutes after that, Mark swam casually back to the boat.

“Say, Henri, what's the fish that's black and tan, about this big and...”

“TEETH?” asked Liz and I.

“Yeah, TEETH! You guys saw it too?”

Despite Henri's assertion that it was a Rock Cod, and harmless, I didn't go back into the water. Not even when Tim came over to tell us of the turtles he'd been swimming with (he hadn't seen any TEETH).

Nosy Tanikely

Once we'd finished with Nosy Tanikely, we headed for Lokobe Reserve, stopping off at Hell Ville for supplies on the way. Lokobe turned out to be a forest on the eastern coast of Nosy Be, overlooking Nosy Komba (of which more later). The accommodation here was not A-frame bungalows, but instead was pre-pitched tents under a leafy roof. With chickens.

Tent

Mark's friend!

 As we were exploring the beach, watching the mudskippers frolicking in the surf and ignoring the tablecloth salespeople, there was a shout of “lemur!”and we rushed to see a female Maki investigating our tents in the hope of an unguarded banana.

Is that a banana?

Day four – Lemur attack, then back to Tana

Feeling much better the next day, we visited the hotel’s island sanctuary for ex-pet lemurs, and had a thoroughly silly morning of being peed on by critters who have the firm belief that banana trees have white skins and two legs (as there is insufficient food growing on the islands, the lemurs’ diet is supplemented with many boatloads of fruit). Lemurs are still cute when they put their fingers up your nose for a better hand-hold – although one of our fellow vahaza was less than impressed when a lemur investigated the contents of her cleavage in the hope that there would be a banana in there.

We had bananas in our packed lunch...

The black-and-white ruffed lemur was bullied by the others, and kept trying to use us as sanctuary...

Me

Tim, sporting a stylish hat

Can you guess which hand has the banana in?

Bamboo lemurs

Common brown lemur figurehead

It appears that the Malagasy for "ring tailed lemur" is now "I like-a-move-it-move-it"

The welcoming committee

Just five days old, the first lemur born in the sanctuary

Shortly after this photograph, a large yellow stain was noticed on my shoulder...

Tim

Just checking the boat for spare bananas

Om nom nom

Jean-Jacques drove us back to Tana for lunch, which we took at the delightful Café de la Gare in the centre of town. This building, situated next to the historic train station, seems to be a regular haunt of Europeans and “Business men who come here with not-their-wives” (thanks to Jean-Jacques for that description). Still feeling weak from the previous day’s incessant regurgitation, I settled for drinking lots of fresh juice, and watching the over-weight and middle-aged white men with their slim, revealingly-dressed, barely-legal Malagasy female companions.

Zebu in paddy field

A riverside garden

In the Cafe de la Gare

Day Two – Andasibe

The next morning we had an early breakfast, and headed for the National Park where we were introduced to our forest guide, whose name was probably Jean-Noel. Andasibe Park is a secondary forest, as opposed to an untouched rainforest (of which more later); so there is a visitor centre with toy lemurs and the park has large cleared paths. As soon as we exited the visitor centre, we noticed a couple of large brownish birds waddling around in the undergrowth next to the path. “Wow! Madagascar Rail! Very rare!” exclaimed Jean-Noel. “Yeah, right,” we thought. “Enough with the over-acting hyperbole for the tourists,” and I didn’t bother to even get my camera out for these rather boring birds. Since returning home, I have since been informed by Mr Google that the bird was indeed a Madagascar Rail, which is threatened by habitat loss, and we were privileged to see it, so I owe some apologies to Jean-Noel.

We set off through the forest with a style which was to become our habit: we would walk slowly, become fascinated by small insects and odd plants, and be overtaken by many other groups of tourists who were marching purposefully to see the lemurs so that they could move on to the next attraction. The Malagasy have a phrase “Mura-mura”, which means “slowly-slowly”. It’s a kind of “don’t rush, take it easy” attitude – but even they were impressed at how good Tim and I were at dawdling and being late. Jean-Noel would walk along looking for wildlife, I would wander along with my camera, occasionally sneaking up on a disguised leaf,¹ and Tim would bring up the rear whilst spotting things that even the guides had missed. After a bimble wherein we found many interesting birds and insects and reptiles, we found some lemurs. The method of location was simple: Jean-Noel would make a noise like a lemur in heat, and wait to see who showed up looking interested. Mostly it was just other lemurs, but I’m sure there must have been occasions where two park guides made lemur-sex noises at each other for hours. Thus it was that we found a set of snoozing diademed sifaka, a family of common brown lemurs, and a troupe of indri-indri whose “haunting melodic song” sounds like a howler monkey losing a fight with a hump-backed whale, and has all the subtlety of a vuvuzela armed with a half-brick in a sock.

Butterfly

Giraffe weevil

Another butterfly (swallowtail family?)

Geckos

Diadem Sifaka

Indri indri!

Common brown lemur (with baby)

Subtle chameleon

Leaf-tailed gecko

Praying mantis

Froggie!

1 The leaves of Madagascar are amazing mimics. From a distance they can look like a chameleon, a bird, a tree frog, or even a small lemur!