Gairezi Two (My Story) Gairezi in Shona means A small swiftly flowing river, clearly named by some disillusioned

white explorer who visited the area briefly in the middle of the dry season. So, where does one begin to tell the story of such an epic adventure? Gairezi Two is essentially a memoir of a great river trip where few white people have travelled, however, at times, will probably read more like a medical journal. But I guess thats all part and parcel of living on this great continent and daring to indulge in exploring it. With various cancellations, injuries and the like, we ended up with a rather diverse scope of personalities and although many of us started this trip as strangers, friendships were quickly formed and Im sure will continue for a long time to come. Lets introduce the characters of our adventure, which needs to be split into two groups. Those who were supposed to be on the trip and those who escaped pre departure mishaps and actually made it to the river bank. The Ones Who didnt make it. Laurie Watermeyer. Now here is an entire story in its own right, but I will endeavor to give you the short version. Three days before the big adventure was due to begin Laurie went for a mountain bike ride. Which is a perfectly acceptable activity for the average person, however we are not talking about the average person and many a story can be told of Mr. Ws history with terra firma. Anyway as fate would have it a stray fence and a stay handlebar formed an alliance. Physics and gravity then took over and acted according to the various laws they do and once the dust and adrenalin had settled Mr. W had landed rather painfully with a cracked pelvis and a broken collar bone. Laurie was to spend Christmas in hospital and direct logistics from the, not so comfort, of his hospital bed. Fiona Semper. With Laurie out of action and indeed in a great deal of pain, Fis role in our planned adventure changed from nature lover to nurse in one Newton filled moment. Fi, a special thank you for filling this role and may I wish you all the very best with partnering with such a huge personality.

Jan Hart. Kayaker extraordinaire and always the first to sign up for an adventure of any sort. Living life large, he signed up for a water-skiing expedition which, had speed not overtaken ability, would have been fine. One broken knee later meant that all kayaking (and many other outdoor activities) were prematurely put on hold.

Helen Patch Patchett. Having just spent two very full weeks travelling around Ethiopia, Patch decided that our medical journal was now well and completely full and was happy to volunteer for a week of R&R. The fact that last years buffet of stomach bugs collected from the Gairezi have put all dairy products firmly on the do not eat for fear of major bowel movement list, may well have contributed to her decision.

Those who did make it. Joe The Boss Holmes. In Lauries absence Joe was nominated trip leader. Joe is definitely old school, and is no stranger to hard work, roughing it, and never taking the easy way out.

Karin Miss Dynamite Stoll. They say dynamite comes in small packages, and Karin is exactly that. Always in the action and never sitting still she is a great person to have on any adventure.

Anita Miss Capable Stoll. Paddling, carrying, packing, cooking, repacking, washing and always smiling. Every adventure trip needs one of these. Believe me when I say that these sisters are not your average pairing.

Rob ductape Jarvis. It would be so easy to underestimate Rob at first glance. But this man defines tough and rugged.

Andrew Squash Shoesmith. With Jans graceful exit, we found ourselves in need of another kayaker. Squash managed to convince his wife that lives would be in danger and that the safety of the trip would be in jeopardy if he didnt come along. Thank you Sarah for issuing the relevant domestic visas during the festive season.

Tom Who wants tea? Dibb. Can we please all chip in to buy this man a pair of shoes? Wow this guy jumps around at camp and seems to have an endless supply of energy. The quiet achiever, Tom is a handy guy to have around.

Richard General Strever. Our professional camera man caught some amazing footage of our trip. Well done Richard on a superb DVD that truly caught the atmosphere of a trip I will never forget.

Mark Catch & Release Collins. Due to his lack of communication before the trip, we were almost convinced that Mark didnt actually exist. Boy were we wrong. The man is a source of entertainment like no other and we were treated to a 24/7 comedy channel for a week.

Tricky Trev. Having missed Gairezi One, due to unfair labor practice, I was determined not to miss this trip come hell or high water.mmm.. Little did we know.

Now, as you can well imagine, with our fearless trip organizer, now lying in hospital there was a fair amount of making a plan B, going on. Although a lot of the food was being bought by the, more than capable, sisters in South Africa, there was a still quite a bit of food needed from Zimbabwe. Patch, Fi, Tom, Rob, and I decided to meet at Lauries house to discuss menus and to sort out all the camping equipment, maps, ropes, boats, pumps and all that other handy stuff that would be useful. Under Fis Its over there somewhere, instructions, Tom and I were able to check tents, find and check the satellite phone and generally create some order out of chaos. Meanwhile Patch, in her ever efficient way, drew up a comprehensive list of what food needed to be bought. This was all happening two days before Christmas and Rob bravely volunteered to join the masses and go food shopping.

A few frantic hours later we were packed and for the most part ready to go we just had to get Christmas day over with. With people spending Christmas lunch with various families and friends, it was agreed that Patch would pick up Anita and Karin from the airport and we would meet Fi, Rob, Tom and Jan that evening at the hospital. Well Christmas at AMI hospital was rather festive. We bought in trays of food, beers, J.C Leroux & Amarula were consumed as quietly as the hospital staff could contain and once suitably sloshed and visiting hours well abused we bid farewell to Laurie and continued the Party at Patches house. Now with people scattered between three countries, the transport arrangements to all eventually meet up in Guro (Mozambique) were fairly complex. Joe, Richard and Mark Left Johannesburg in convoy in the early hours of Boxing Day. They entered Zimbabwe through Beit Bridge and then continued on to Mutare. Tom and I and the two drivers Cephas & Ken drove to Mutare from Harare and met up with the South African party. We left Toms car in Mutare and squeezed ourselves, the drivers and all the camping gear and additional boats into the South Africans cars. A quick border crossing at Forbes border post and we were on our way to spend the night at Casa Masika. It may be pertinent to mention here that our trip leader, in his Never say die, attitude to life had been to a party the night before and had about four hours sleep before his drive through two border posts in one day. Meantime Rob and the sisters entered Mozambique through the Nyamapanda border post, where they met up with Squash, who was returning from a family holiday in Malawi. They then continued to Guro and camped at the cell phone tower on top of a hill overlooking the bustling central business district.

The following day we left Casa Masika and we met the hill top campers at Pensao Oasis in Guro. Introductions were made, travel stories were swapped and everyone was clearly excited for the adventure to come. Now Pensao Oasis is renowned for its chicken and chips, and this fine establishment redefines the meaning of fast food. From menu to meal took a mere three hours, but it was well worth waiting for. Although by that stage frogs on toast would have tasted good.

After an hour of placing our order (and realizing that fast was a relatively loosely used term) it was decided to send the more mature members of the party to the police station and negotiate the relevant permissions we may need. Not wanting to upset the local authorities, and knowing that there would be repeat excursions, Joe and Rob went off to make the necessary arrangements. Well the police commissionaire couldnt make the decision so she referred our negotiators to the governor. After all was said and done the governor, in all her wisdom, agreed that our trip could go ahead, however our put in point was now a lot closer to our planned exit point. Furthermore we had now acquired two escorts who were to run along the banks while we paddled to keep us safe. So much for trying to play by the rules.

In Joes ever bullish way he decided that the time for diplomacy was now well and truly over and we would continue with our original plan anyway and put in at Malloys. Our escorts were to come with us to the put in point and return to Guro with the drivers. We explained this to our escorts, who certainly were not Uasian Bolt lookalikes, and suddenly Joe was a hero and the tension between the happy campers and the Mozambique authorities was dissipated,

Once fed and legal, we could now head off in convoy to Malloys, if only we could find the turn off. Rob eventually remembered the way and soon we were heading off into the bush towards the Gairezi River. The bush was picturesque and excitement levels were buzzing. On the way to Malloys we stopped to climb Mt Senga-Senga. See extract from http://www.springerlink.com/content/k728686777467781/

Not having time for a more detailed study, we continued the long drive and finally arrived at Malloys at 14:00. There was frantic action at the put in point. Boats being off loaded and pumped up, kit was checked, double checked and packed. Jan not wanting to miss out where ever possible had driven with Alan and Sheryl to meet us at the put in point. A quick illegal border crossing under the supervision of our official escorts had our guests all getting involved in the packing and launching of boats. After many months of planning, exchanges of e-mails, change of plans, tears, and a quick chicken and chips, our river trip was finally a reality and we were now officially heading off into the unknown. We bid farewell to Ken & Cephas, who were to shuffle vehicles back to Guro and meet us and the Luenha bridge in four days time. Jan, Alan and Sheryl, having returned to the legal side of the river, were to drive to our first designated camp and spend the night with us. With the rains having not being quite as provident as they normally are, the river was fairly shallow and in places the Gairezi shuffle had to be adopted to keep the boats moving downstream.

Although Laurie had obviously spent hours googling the river and labeling all the rapids we would encounter, nature always has a knack of throwing in the unexpected. We stumbled across a rapid that we named A-, which turned out to be a rather large drop and un-runnable in our boats and so began our first portage. Squash, keen to test his paddling skills ran the rapid, making the rest of us feel a bit amateurish. This unexpected portage caused quite a delay and soon it became obvious that we would not make our designated camp site before dark, and therefore we would not spend the night with our visitors who had driven so far to see us off. Having found a suitable beach, on the Zimbabwean side of the river, we put up camp for the night. In

the true style of roughing it and carrying only absolutely essential provisions, we feasted on the biggest steaks for dinner that night, cooked on an open fire under an amazing star filled sky. For all its politics, human rights abuses and hardships, Africa was paradise that night.

Next morning the hustle and bustle of camp started particularly early, for no apparent reason other than sheer enthusiasm. Tom made tea and coffee for everyone, which was to become a great habit of his and Anita whipped up a breakfast with enough kilojoules to keep us going to the Zambezi. Camp dropped, and boats packed saw us on the river by 06:30. The mornings paddling was easy going and the scenery absolutely breathtaking. We saw no game whatsoever and noticed that even the birds flew a little higher than normal. Clearly if youre an animal in these parts the secret to staying alive is to keep a very low, or exceptionally high, profile.

By 10:30, it was definitely time for a snack. We stopped, stretched our legs and Anita handed out soggy chevda. With nothing more savory being on offer, we soon decided to carry on. We had by this time left the Zimbabwe Mozambique border and were well into Mozambique. The Gairezi and Luenya rivers join and the two rivers become the Luenya. This convergence of the two rivers happened without incident, and any pre-conceived ideas of two raging torrents becoming one mass of white water were quickly put to rest. The river now became quite wide, often forming channels and choosing the correct channel which was deep enough to keep the momentum going was quite tricky.

A big Baobab tree close to the river and the cry of a fish eagle spelled the perfect spot for lunch. Karin & Anita worked their magic and lunch was served in short order. Rob, in his Christmas rush, had kindly bought some cold meats for lunch. Having spent three days in a not so cold cooler box, the cold meat was now a lighter shade of green and smelling, well, like only green meat can. Once fed, rested and the pantry emptied of all non-edible food, it was time to set off once more.

The afternoon was hot and leisurely, occasionally having to get out of the boats and push. Not wanting to get too far ahead of ourselves, we decided to stop early and set up camp. It was blistering hot and we all cooled off in the river, allowing time and the river to flow by without concern.

Once the heat of the day had passed, all the guys walked across the river to fetch firewood for the night. Now I must confess my concern when I saw Anita preparing dinner that evening. From out of the kitchen dry bag came two small packets and Anita said we were going to have chicken and mashed potatoes. Great I thought, but I see nine hungry people and unless your name is Jesus Christ, you are about to instigate third world war. Well thanks to modern science and the marvels of dehydrated food, everyone was well fed. A few glasses of red wine and a bottle of scotch ensured that no one went thirsty, and as usual Mark provided the entertainment.

Another early start had us on the river by 07:00. Big, dark clouds were looming and it was clear that it had been raining upstream. This was good as more water meant less pushing. Our first portage came fairly early that day. The river suddenly dropped into a

small gorge and was followed by a succession of big rapids with really impressive white water. Big drops, tight bends, whirlpools and under cuts were enough to convince us that, if we wanted to live to partake in Gairezi three, portaging was the only option. We continued walking downstream in search of a put in point which after an hour we eventually found. It was obvious that we would have to find/ cut a path in the bush above the rocks to make portaging a lot easier. On the walk back to the boats we found a route that we would use for the portage. During our absence Mark, who had stayed behind to look after the boats, had made new friends in the form of four children and a dog. After much gesturing it was agreed that the children would assist us. All the boats were unpacked, people loaded up and the great trek began. It took about twenty minutes to walk to the put in point and it would take four round trips to complete the portage.

Squash and Tom having had a close look at the river decided that some of the water we were walking around was in fact runnable in their kayaks. While Squash came through unscathed, Tom took a swim, which resulted in the front end of his kayak being re-arranged into a far less aerodynamic shape than when it came out of the factory.

Boats re-packed, child labor paid up and dog fed, we continued on our merry way. We were shortly treated to a great wave train rapid and I think Rob even managed to keep his eyes open the whole way through.

Having spent all the energy provided from breakfast, lunch time was beckoning and we found the perfect camp spot, high above the water with a great beach and lots of shade. The girls worked their normal magic and lunch was another huge success. Meanwhile high tech boat repairs on Toms kayak were gathering momentum. In typical corporate fashion, there were five chiefs and two Indians and using only the manufacturers recommended repair equipment (boiling water and a log), the kayak was soon molded back into shape. Soon after lunch, we came across our first set of reeds. The river becomes a maze of reed channels and choosing the widest entry point doesnt necessarily mean the path is clear all the way through. Our brave kayakers went ahead of the boats but the current was too strong to stop and soon all the boats were washed into a channel which wasnt yet deemed clear. Frantic grabbing of reeds to try and stop proved fruitless and at one point Joe jumped into the water to try and stop his boat. However the water was chest deep and some quick reactions from our trip leader saved him from losing his shorts. Thankfully the channel was clear and we were all washed through safely.

The rapids we encounted soon afterward proved to be our most exciting set of rapids of the trip. A series of S bends with great wave trains and nothing technical in between, made for an exciting but safe run. Whilst scouting the rapids Anita and I decided that this stretch of river was far too exciting to only run once, and so a plan was quickly hatched that she would help me take my boat through and then I would help her with hers. We told Rob the plan and he readily agreed that he would much rather spectate. While I had been told of Anitas paddling skills,

feeling a boat accelerate like a Ferrari is just not normal. We had two great runs on a very special stretch of river. Squash and Toms runs were flawless and they made it look really easy. With Karin feeling quite content on dry land, Tom helped Joe paddle his boat. Mark and Richard paddled through still talking and laughing like they were on flat water.

Our next obstacle of the day came in the form of a waterfall. The ominous horizon line clearly spelled danger and meant another portage was in store for us. Laurie had marked the waterfalls on our maps and while we were dubious about the accuracy of being able to spot a waterfall from a satellite thousands of miles away, Laurie and Mr. Google were spot on every time. The river cascaded into a twenty meter gorge forming a fascinating landscape of rock formations and wild water. Another long scout for a put in point found us following a tributary river and then a short climb into the gorge. As if by magic two gold panners appeared from nowhere. While trying to communication with our newly found help was difficult the universal language of the U.S dollar soon had them loaded up and assisting with the portage. We were all by this stage fairly tired and having two extra sets of very capable hands was a breath of fresh air. These guys would glide over rocks carrying twice as much as the rest of us, and its thanks to them that we finished the portage that day, I was convinced at one stage that we would be camping somewhere along the portage path.

A short paddle round, the corner we found a camp site. While in hindsight this certainly was not the perfect camp spot, considering rising water levels and the possibility of flash floods, but we had all had a big day, werent thinking clearly and were very keen to put up camp. We were all shattered, but Anita always smiling whipped up another miracle packet meal, and Rob pulled out a bottle of Southern Comfort which went down a real treat. Karin, who had not been feeling well all afternoon was now positively man down. Considering the previous river trip this was a huge concern, would we all catch the dreaded Gairezi gut? Everyone was a bit concerned about following days adventures. Lauries maps indicated that there would indeed be more portaging and dreaded reed channels. At this rate we may end up spending an extra day on the river which would result in Anita, who was on a tight schedule anyway, missing her flight. In the very early hours of the morning it began pouring with rain. I staggered from the upturned boat I was sleeping on and Joined Mark & Richard in their tent. Now while their tent was very comfortable for two, having a third person join them meant that swinging the proverbial cat would most certainly have caused injury to both man and beast. Thanks guys for taking in the homeless for a night. Tom, ever the hardened camper, remained under his bivvy as if nothing was going on. As if he hadnt done enough paddling during the day, Squash also had to contend with rising water levels in his tent. Clearly Rob had purchased himself fair weather camping equipment.

The next morning the river had risen dangerously close to the boats, another few inches would have had them washed away. Anita had been sick all night, and Squash was on his way downhill and couldnt eat breakfast. Karin still feeling a little tender was on the mend and this was hopefully a good gauge of how long the others would be on a go slow. With the rising of the river Joe and Karins tent was now on an island, and they had to wade across ankle deep water to get to breakfast. Water treatment had become quite a topic of discussion and by day three we had stopped reading the instructions on the bottle. A simple formula was calculated, if the water was brown squeeze for one second and if the water was really brown squeeze for one and a half seconds. Its a miracle none of us got silver poisoning. The river level was still rising and a hurried breakfast, for those who could eat, had us on the river at twenty past seven. At half past seven we started scouting our first portage. As was becoming routine these portages were never short. This time was no exception and the proposed put in point meant that this would turn out to be our longest portage thus far.

Again, from the depths of the African bush, two gold panners appeared. One of them could speak a little English and it was soon established that there

was a logging road nearby that led to the main tar road. With rising water levels, increased chances of rain, long portages looming, more dangerous reed banks and the possibility of Anita missing her flight, the odds were stacking against us and this would be our last chance to quit while we were ahead. A lengthy debate followed. Torn between wanting to complete what we had set out to achieve but also not wanting to push the boundaries of safety a unanimous decision was eventually made to abort the trip and take out. A decision which Im sure all of us secretly question to this day.

It was decided that the owners of the three vehicles, Joe, Rob and Richard would take on the long hike back to civilization, collect their vehicles from the Police Station in Guro and come back to collect us and the equipment, whilst the rest of us would carry all the equipment to the beginning of the logging road. Food supplies and a first aid kit for the Long walk to freedom were packed, and the walkers set off at 09:15. The previous day Robs one sandal had had a blow out, and despite many shoe offerings from fellow campers, he decided that walking 50kms barefoot was perfectly normal thing to do. Now we will need to split the story here so that the walkers and the campers accounts of the day can both be told.

Walkers Mark was quite concerned about the scale of the undertaking Richard had taken and I think his exact words were Is he bloody mad to go with those two tough old bastards. Well our hikers walked, walked and you guessed it walked some more. While the bush is stunning in these parts there is no game to be seen and I can only imaging the monotony of following a bush track with a pack on your back. Eventually they stopped for lunch, this would lighten the load somewhat as tins of food are not exactly designed for the fleet footed. Sense was finally starting to prevail and Rob decided that an upgrade of footwear was needed and out came the ductape. With feet strapped up and stomachs full, the hikers continued the odious task of getting back to Guro.

Later that afternoon our hikers passed through a village. One of the locals was so excited to see some white folks walking through his village that he started taking pictures of them with his cell phone. Personally I think he thought Rob was onto something here, and possibly on something too, and he was going to make a fortune copying Robs patented footwear . Finally at exactly 17:00 (as predicted by the gold panners) our hikers arrived at the tar road. They soon waved down a truck, which stopped, took one look, and after one inhalation accelerated off like a man possessed.

A commuter bus driver, who clearly had more business sense than sensory ability, stopped and the three heroes of the day squeezed into an already overfull load.

Now Pensao Oasis not only serves chicken and chips but they also have showers at the back. For a small fee our hikers had a cold shower and had a well deserved beer before beginning the drive back to the river. Thankfully they didnt order food else Anita may well have missed her flight anyway. It was a difficult drive back, trying to follow the bush track in the dark and eventually at 21:50, they were reunited with the campers. Campers

With the help of the gold panners we carried all the equipment a little way beyond their camp. Upon arriving with the last load of equipment we met a friendly chap named Smart, who spoke perfect English. Before Joe left he had said that he could get the vehicles to where we now had all the equipment but we could not see any obvious road. With nothing better to do and plenty time on our hands we went to see if we could find the beginning of the logging trail. Having paid the gold panners and them not being satisfied with the equivalent of two weeks work they had gone to go find treasure elsewhere. After an hour of searching, we decided to head back to camp, and who should we come across with a huge load of thatching grass on his head? Smart. He took us straight to the beginning of the logging trail which was 300 meters as crow flies from where all our kit was. And so began more carrying of equipment. Follow the path to the arrow drawn in the sand, turn left, stay left past the Baobab, keep going straight till you get to a bushy tree and camp was set up just on the other side.

Late afternoon the guys went to go and wash. The water was now really brown and we couldnt believe how much the river had risen during the day. When the girls went to wash later on they said the water was lapping against a makeshift bridge we had seen earlier in the day which at that stage was about three meters above the water.

At five oclock, as the hikers were getting to the tar road, we set up camp for the night. Dinner consisted of another delicious packet of goodness. Concerned that the hikers had not yet returned and with the onset of rain everyone was in bed shortly after seven. We were all awoken to Karins shouts of theyre back, theyre back. Sure enough we could see headlights approaching. The hikers had returned and whats more they had bought beer and it was cold. Stories were swapped beer was consumed it had stopped raining and suddenly life was worth living again.

By the next morning the river was no longer running in the gorge and had spilt over onto the wide rocky banks. This was too tempting for Squash and he just had to paddle what was now a raging torrent. Im not sure if Squash had dropped something the day before, for he spent a lot of time upside down looking for what-ever it was. A really impressive run nonetheless and Squash was on a high for the rest of the day. We packed the cars and drove back to the tar road on the track that our hikers had tackled the day before. We passed a number of hardwood forests that are being cut down for commercial purposes. A truly heartbreaking sight. Back at the main road we decided to go to the Lhuenya bridge, which was our original designated finish point. As if to add insult to injury the river was wide open and looked nothing like the dangerous torrent we had left behind that morning.

Hungry, tired and in desperate need of a hot shower, Casa Msika could not have come quickly enough. Once cleaned up we went for lunch, yes more chicken and chips, and a good few beers were consumed. Being December 31st, there is always the expectation that one should at least stay up till midnight and furthermore one must be seen to be having a good time until then. Well Mark had spotted some ladies sitting by themselves, and it took him all of, lets see, fifteen seconds before he was soon in there and working his charm. We soon all joined

them and it turned out that these lasses were planning on travelling through Zimbabwe for a few days. Well they were armed with more advice and offers of accommodation than any guide book on the market. By 10:30 most of us decided to throw in the towel and retire. With a quick round of Amarulas we bid farewell to 2011. And so ended our big adventure. We started out virtually a bunch of strangers, yet we laughed, we toiled, we became friends and some of us might even stay in touch. Thats what river trips do, they bond people, they bring out the best and worst of you as an individual and above all they make you hungry for the next expedition.

Now a Gairezi story wouldnt be complete without some post trip traumatics. Anita, Mark, Joe and I all went down with the dreaded Malaria. While this is good for weight loss it has caused havoc with all intended training. Ironically Joe and Mark were reunited in the same hospital room whilst recovering. Finally a budding romance has begun between Tom and eye surgeon we met New Years Eve in Casa Msika, long may it continue Tom.