Dhow Safari
Posted By Sika on May 24, 2010
We went to Dolphin Dhow, and luckily they had a group of four American guys, all laid off from a sinking Washington Mutual, already going out the next day for an overnight trip. I decided to go along first, and then John decided to go, as well.
There’s some really nice snorkeling to be had in the Bazaruto Archipelago, but unfortunately, this trip did not have enough. We spent, after a pretty nifty dhow ride where we spotted dolphins and everything, most of a day and a night on an entirely uninhabited island with no shade and no snorkeling. We camped there illegally, although we found out even later than the illegal thing that it’s sort of unofficially sanctioned.
Snorkeling didn’t happen until the second day, and that morning it seemed like an awful idea. It was cold, windy and the sea was horribly rough. All of us wished we had snorkeled the night before, when the sun was bright, the water was transparent, and the dolphins were gamboling around.
When we got to the new island, the weather was still awful. We were told to take a walk around the island, so we set off. I had on my swimsuit, a sarong, and then a tshirt, fleece, and windbreaker. The water was considerably warmer than the air.
I took many photos of driftwood, which made me think of Uncle Stan and Aunt Evelyn, which made me think of how watching the craftsmanship of sailing a dhow not powered by an outboard motor made me think of my grandpa. Which made me think that traveling, in the way it reminds me of home and people there, in some way brings me closer to home. Some of it is bittersweet, when I think of people I can’t connect with anymore, like Stan and Evelyn. Some of it is just sweet: when I think about Grandpa, it’s like a bring him along with me to Mozambique for just a minute. As long as I remember to tell him about it when I get home, it’ll be a little like that for him, too.
I wanted to try spotting whales and more dolphins, so I separated from the 5 guys to sit on the beach for a bit. In hind sight, I should have been a little more sire about how much of the island was left to circle, coz it was a lot when I thought I was almost there, and by the time I did get back to where we started from, the guys had already snorkeled once. After eating a bit of lunch, it was my turn. Petros said I had 30 minutes, and told me where to start (and thought he told me the at which point to end). American John told me not to worry about time, because they were going again, too. So I headed off.
There were so many fish. I don’t think any of them were new to me (there may have been some coral I’ve only seen in pictures), but I’ve never seen so many types of fish in one place, and certainly not only ten feet off shore. I was so happy the weather had cleared up, especially since the water, where deep, was still pretty cold. I followed a parrotfish around, and then watched some other fish play territory wars. I played around in the coral, finding different paths to swim through, then going back to make sure I took all the alternatives, too.
At one point I looked up while clearing water out of my left eyepiece, and I saw someone waving and telling me to get back to the boat. I didn’t think he meant now-now, and I don’t know how to ascertain the difference between now and now-now in Portuguese. Apparently I wasn’t heading over fast enough, because the boat started coming after me. The outrigger sounded like someone on the beach was using a buzz saw, and once I saw the boat coming, I started thinking about Kirsty MacColl.
Halfway back, we stopped at a sandbar. Antonio jumped out with his snorkel and facemask and started looking for oysters. The sand bar was coated with them. Antonio shucked some of them for us and squeezed fresh lemon juice over them. I tried one, but I still don’t like oysters; I don’t think that’s going to change any time soon. Too bad, because the story of watching people standing waist deep in the middle of the beyond nowhere ocean would be better if it was then followed by the best food of my life.
When we got back to Baobab, I took an amazingly hot shower that tortured the one sunburnt spot scalp, but was otherwise blissful. During my shower it got cold and drizzly, and it seemed the only solution to that was a nap. When I did wake, I needed my long sleeve shirt, a sweater, and my windbreaker to be warm enough to eat dinner.
The bar was surprisingly quiet, and I went to bed after chatting with John until it closed. A mosquito woke me up, and I turned on my headlamp, to ease my path to smushing it. When I was checking for other mosquitoes, I saw something long-legged and creepy scramble into the inside of the corner of the net. It looked like the type of spider that liquifies flesh and also gnaws on boned. Plus, I couldn’t get it out of my net. So I killed it. Spiders always look smaller when dead—their legs curled up into a spidery fetal position. So I felt guilty. But also relieved.
End verdict: If you care about giving your money to a local owner (although Junior’s partner is South African), you can go to Dolphin Dhow. But you either should only do the day trip, or know exactly what you want to do and compare Dolphin Dhow and Sail Away.
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