I started feeling a bit worse bang around tea time, managing to choke down half my chicken croquettes (which were like round, breadcrumb coated chicken drumsticks), and then tried to go to bed. It was Pauline's birthday though, and Mamy ambushed me to sing happy birthday with a cake before I could retreat, at about 8:15.
The night was the worst. Matt and Fiona had mentioned that Malarone gives them trippy dreams, and I certainly had a trippy half sleep until about midnight. I had those really annoying snuffles that won't let you drop off; you have never seen a nose wetter than mine! In my half sleep state, I began in total despair to venture inside my smallest airways, to begin the mammoth task of clearing them one at a time, smallest to largest. By around 11:30, I had succeeded! Also, the other pillow on the bed was now infinitely more comfortable than my own, so I switched over, and tried to drop off again.
Cue the world's worst mosquito. Every time I was about to drop off, it was there, making that "NeeeEEEeeeEEE" sound, and getting closer and closer to my ear, until it was so close that I must surely kill it if I slapped wildly. I hit myself in the face about 20 times over the next few hours. One time, I had flipped to lying on my back, slightly upright, and there it was on my arm. It felt other arm moving though, and escaped. It didn't even bite me, it was just showboating!
That was it. I got the deet. With the deet, already uncapped in my good right hand, and my left arm above the covers presenting a juicy target, I lay in wait. For half an hour. This guy was too good. I fell asleep waiting, but in my ear I heard a NeeeEEEeeeEEE, and awoke mightily, spraying deet up over my left shoulder like a concerned office worker attempting to fight a blaze with half cocked memories of that 15 minute fire extinguisher training course 3 years ago. No hit. The rest of the night was marginally better, though Worst Mosquito still bugged me from time to time.
A luxurious 6:40 start, and my phone had charged to 100%, so that wasn't bad. The shower was still infernal though. We were making a quick stop at the paper factory, before driving to Andringitra national park to start our 3 night trek.
The paper factory was much better than the wine factory. Mamy did the tour himself, so my guess is that the guy who did the wine place was the bad one. They basically get the stems of this flowering brush, boil them for a few hours, then let a lady with 2 hammers hulk out on it to make it smoother. Then they mix it with water, and lay it over cotton to dry.
It was a concise tour, but I felt it explained everything well, and seeing a lady beat up dead plants with 2 hammers is a big highlight. The gift shop had souvenir type things, which have so far been in short supply. I got a couple of things for some people.
We had switched from the bus to 3 4x4s for the drive to Andringitra, and you could see why very quickly. Barely a minute (literally) out of Ambalavao, and the road was bumpy packed earth, not a hint of Tarmac. The bridges were made of wood, and our driver actually had to repair one where a plank was displaced. This was the real "bad road" that I had been promised. Too bad I was in a cold related purgatory!
Our 4x4 even started leaking! We had to stop, but did not have the Onze spanner to fix it! Luckily a passing car (and one of only 2 passing cars we saw all day) had one. We had a little walk up and down the road in the meantime, but walking in the hot African sun was not great in my cold addled state.
Along the way, Rosa had some toys she had brought from America for the express purpose of giving to children, so we stopped a few times and gave them out. They seemed very happy to receive them (though some also ran away as we pulled up, because their parents tell them not to talk to strangers).
A bit more driving, and we were at the welcome centre. There were some boards to read with information about the park, and it was inside, so I quite enjoyed it. Except the Aye Aye. That is a creature that will give me nightmares from only a hand drawn picture. Mamy has only ever seen 3 in his 20 years of guiding thank god.
A short drive further, and we had to start walking. Normally you can drive a bit more, but there was a bridge that had set on fire and not yet been repaired, so we had an extra 45 minutes to walk. At least it was flat. We started from a little village with a few more of those plague children. I kept away; I don't need to double down on this. This first section was uneventful, aside from the fact that I spotted a stick insect/grasshopper that was pretty well camouflaged.
Once we got into the walk proper, the views were better, and we weren't walking on a dusty road, which was a slight bonus. Soon enough, we had views of the waterfalls of Riandahy and Riambavy, which are named after a king and queen who visited here some time. Freddie is not the easiest to understand sometimes, and waah waah my cold! The waterfalls were quite far away, and we didn't get to the bottom, but did see both source rivers from the top.
Across a wooden bridge the uphill was relentless. It was hot, and dry, and there were still 3 hours plus to go. I knew it would be fairly ropey, so I just kept putting one foot in front of the other. I think the not ill people found it hard going too, and thankfully there were a lot of stops, with some great views.
About half an hour from our eventual destination there was a chance for a very cold swim. Before the trip I had been planning to do this, just to say I had, but I decided to abstain given my current condition. It was lovely just to stick my feet in a bit.
It was around this time the fantastically picturesque mountains started to surround us, and the remaining walk was blessedly flat, across a sort of savannah type scrub/grassland, where Freddie spotted a poisonous locust type thing. So he grabbed it to show off the fancy red wings, as you do. It seemed very calm about the whole ordeal, and afterwards hopped off into the distance as we walked off to our campsite.
The site was at the foot of some pretty imposing granite cliffs. We got there just as it was starting to get dark, and the temperature was beginning to drop quite dramatically.
For warmth I had my not particularly thick green jumper, and I was preparing to break my usual 2 layer rule, and wear my rain coat over my tshirt and jumper if necessary. Coffee was imminent, so I went for the jumper, and got out. It was cold! Whilst the jumper sufficed for my torso, my poor wrists were getting chilly (because jumpers never last long at their original size in our house).
The porters were going to do some traditional Betsileo singing for us round the campfire, so I went for the rain coat, and then went to listen. It was great; the songs were so otherworldly, quite unlike anything I had ever heard before. They were dancing round the fire too, kicking up sand, jumping the fire, and swigging rum. I had some too; I wasn't planning on it, but it had ginger, lemon, and honey mixed in like some sort of ready made cold cure.
Dinner after was inside the "kitchen", a little hut which had 3 fires in. It wasn't planned, but because it was so cold they let us in there. It was huge! Far too much for me in my weakened state. First was vegetable soup, which wasn't awful (and that is high praise, given my usual stance on vegetable soup), followed by barbecued zebu and rice. The zebu was decent, but the rice had the odd bit of gravel or something in, so I didn't have much of that. Dessert was chocolate banana, which was great.
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