The power returned in the early hours and but we have no need to rise early as we had requested a late kick-off (9 am) in the hope of allowing the weather to improve.
We rose quite early anyway and made a belated request for early morning cuppa at 6:30-ish which was achieved close to 7:30 – never mind.
To breakfast at eight – bacon, sausage, tomato (and scrambled egg for Daisy) and toast made from a sesame seed coated bread. Nothing happens quickly but everything happens in the end.
Anette comes to tell us that the weather forecast looks good – cloudy but dry.
We run into the Taylors again and exchange plans. They are to teach local kids in the morning and do a tea tasting in the afternoon under the special auspices of Chip.
“We hear you are conquering the mountain today” said Mr T.
“We are doing our walking tomorrow, when the weather gets better,” said Mrs T, with a tinge of pity in her voice.
“Actually Anette tells us that the Internet shows the weather is set fair for today”, I said, “I think we’ll prefer walking with a bit of cloud cover.”
“Does she use some sort of Norwegian website?” asked Mr T.
(I thought Anette was Swedish but adjusted this assumption, as Mr T might be better informed).
Mike picked us up at nine-ish and took us off, initially up into the higher reaches of the tea estate to the mini mountain at the top of the estate.
The clouds were clearly getting higher even then and it was very pleasant short hike to the picnic spot at the top. I think Mike was checking us out as well as showing us some extra good stuff. The vistas were lovely and we can see the Shire Valley below – we couldn’t quite see Majete but only because of the hills in between.
Then on to Mulanje. First stop, the town itself. Specifically the market. On the way into the market, Mike shows us a noisy bar/café – the noise being Malawian reggae. Crates of shake-shake are lying around. Daisy is surprised when I choose to try it. Mike suggest we try today’s delivery (yesterday’s will have fermented further in the cartons and be much stronger).
As the guidebook suggests, the gravel like texture of this beer is strange to our western tastes. But, unlike the guidebook, I rather like it. Daisy’s reaction is more compliant with the script. I also ask Mike if we can seek out the music.
Meanwhile the dollar I handed over to satisfy the 190 kwacha ($0.50) bill is causing some consternation. The bartender would prefer local money, but when Mike offers to pay the bill (perhaps “and some”) in exchange for the dollar, the barman twigged that I had offered him an exceptional deal, so kept the Yankee dollar.
We then walked around the market, mostly getting willing subjects for the photos but sometimes not. Then onto the music centre, where $2 got me the very reggae in question.
After a pee stop at the motel, a failed attempt to buy a chichewa newspaper – but that won’t be hard elsewhere we are told.
Then off to Mulanje Massif – a short drive to the Likhubula Forest Station and Lodge where we leave the car and set off an hour hike/picnic. Hard, mostly uphill, but not treacherous walking, stopping to take in the sights and water along the way.
The waterfall is quite spectacular, although not as big as I expected.
The picnic shelter is no more, but on a cloudy day that didn’t matter and we tucked in to corned beef burgers, macadamia nuts (or treat also for my), orange and an orange/carrot cake. Lovely. Then down again (much easier).
Photos on the way down include some amazingly coloured geckos and chameleons.
Pee-pee stop at the Likhubula Lodge, then set off for home.
The sun comes out for the last leg of the walk and the late afternoon drive home. We arrive just before dark.
We bath and get ready for dinner looking at our photos etc.
Dinner is in the lounge for us tonight (the Taylors are in the dining room).
The starter is green tea dumplings, which are basically momos, but it transpires that Anette cannot remember what they’re called, she just remembers them from Nepal!
Then a main course of hake in banana leaf with rice and green pepper-oriented veg.
It transpires that Anette IS Swedish (go figure, know-all Mr T) and I (perhaps prematurely) request to meet Chip if he is around, which he is.
So we get the “full-tilt Chip” experience.
He cannot place which tribe we are (he believes that there are three in the UK), nor which village we are from.
He was raised speaking only the local tribal language until he was six, although he talks like Brian Blessed.
He [Chip, not Brian Blessed] was delighted that I drink their tea and have done so for years.
He then gave us the benefit of his knowledge of tea growing, tea preparation, anti-oxidants, the additions that kill anti-oxidising phenols, wine transportation in Africa, the former cannibal who used to guard the estate, the “cuddle bunnies” (presumably “droit du seigneur”) that came as standard back then…
…and very, very nearly got his take on how Anette and his son got it together. “Now there’s a story for another day”, he said. We did, however, learn that her maiden name is Anette Bovins, that she hails from Lapland and that she used to bike around Africa making films (or presumably television programmes).
More tomorrow, if we are lucky. (Much more tomorrow, if we are unlucky).
To bed.
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