Mozambique’s Bazaruto Archipelago – An exotic string of pearls

Off the coast of Southern Moambique are islands which used to be the romantic playgrounds of an older generation of Southern Africans. David Rogers was lured there by tales of giant prawns, peri-peri cashew nuts and a childhood memory. Patrick Wagner took the photographs.

On a wall of the house where I grew up was a faded black-and-white photograph of a man, a woman and a swordfish. It was of my parents and was taken on Santa Carolina – or Paradise Island – while they were on honeymoon.

They returned to Moambique many times and each return brought tales of adventures – and for us children, tins of peri-peri cashew nuts! We nibbled them slowly, their exotic, spicy taste filling our mouths, and tried to imagine that faraway tropical never-never land.

Thirty years later the string of sandy islands that make up the Bazaruto Archipelago swung under the plane’s wing. My first contact with the peri-peri-nut archipelago was Bazaruto – the most northerly and longest of the islands. Soon the plane was bouncing to a halt on its grassy airstrip. I had the feeling of journeying to visit an old friend I’d never met.

The sand felt firm underfoot and a warm, gentle breeze urged me up a path to Bazaruto Lodge. Here a lounge bar and a string of chalets looked out over the shallow lagoon towards mainland Moambique.

The high dunes and scrubby trees had been tousled and troubled by long monsoon seasons and high on the hill a lighthouse warned sailors of the treacherous channel. Despite the wildness of the place the lodge offered plenty of comforts with a cool, thatched lounge and a nostalgic, colonial-Portuguese atmosphere.

As with the rest of the islands, the lingua franca is Portuguese – so brush up on your obrigadas and faz favors. Also true to the style of old Moambique there was an abundance of crayfish, mighty Queen prawns, curried crab and thick calamari steaks all accompanied by generous lacings of fiery Santa Anna peri-peri sauce.

Interestingly, nearly all the guests were on the island to fish (or to watch their partners fish). Rods lay scattered like pickup-sticks over the patios – and on the walls were pictures of men posing proudly in front of the gantry with all manner of game fish.

Bazaruto is the surf-fishing destination in the archipelago, with great fishing spots such as spectacular Sailfish Bay and Mush’s Hole (both have turned in world records) which are easily accessible by 4×4.

There were no great catches during my stay, but even those who failed to get so much as a bite seemed happy to spend their days on the point of some distant beach, knee deep in the water with the wind in their hair.

For me, tropical islands promised underwater exploration. With divemaster Dorian Borchards I finned through the wonderful, warm water enjoying the glorious sights of staghorn corals bathed in glimmering light and schools of colourful tropical fish.

Other mortals less obsessed with the depths walked hand in hand along the beaches, went body-surfing or lay sprawled beside the clear, fresh-water pool sipping cold M&M beers and watching dhows slip past in the channels. These lateen-rigged boats were romantic reminders that traders have plied the coast of the Bazaruto Archipelago since Phoenician times, carrying slaves, ivory, pearls and gold from Africa to both the East and the West.

It was rumours of pearls which induced the Portuguese to occupy the islands in the 1700s. They were able to exploit them freely, until 1913 when a tremendous hurricane buried the oyster beds under thick sand.

Since the departure of the Portuguese over 20 years ago the 2 000 or so Moambican inhabitants now live in rather poor conditions along the shores of the Bazaruto islands, drawing their sustenance from the sea. Wake up early and you’ll find them heaving their nets ashore and hanging their silver prizes on wooden racks in front of their villages.

The archipelago is now a national park and such harvests are controlled by World Wildlife Fund for Nature’s guardes stationed on Bazaruto Island. They’re also responsible for conserving the milkwood and mangrove forests and animals such as red duiker and samango monkeys which have somehow survived the pot. The hippos once found in the island lakes were eliminated by guns decades ago – but if you are lucky you can still see crocodiles gliding through the shallows of the lakes.

More than 180 species of birds remain, including Palaearctic migrants, vast flocks of pelicans and flamingoes which congregate in the lakes and on the sandy flats. Birds turn up in the most unexpected places – at Bazaruto Lodge a plucky pied kingfisher joined me in the pool – as I washed salt from my westsuit he did the same with his feathers.
Sabal Lodge, billed as offering the best value in the archipelago, is a brand-new development on the southern side of Bazaruto. The genial island mood was enhanced by a group of young South African hosts who soon swapped my bags for beers and eagerly showed me round the new resort.

Sabal, which comprises a row of chalets built on stilts at the edge of a forest right on a beach, has rapidly put itself on the map as the place in the archipelago for fly fishing and is already attracting groups of angling enthusiasts from round the world.

One of the reasons for this is Andrew Parsons, a highly experienced angler who competes for KwaZulu/Natal in both rock and surf disciplines, and who is now also a master of the more delicate art of fly fishing. We spent a morning bouncing through the choppy seas, hunting for the flocks of swooping birds which are a clue to the presence of the schools of fast-moving bonito and mackerel.

It’s a great sport – much more active and exciting than conventional fishing. Once the birds were located and the boat was in the path of the fish there were just seconds to get steady, whip out a line, present the fly and start the frenetic retrieval.

Most times Andrew managed three or four casts in quick succession before the school of hunting fish moved on. His casts were spot on and soon he was looking down at a bright silver tor-pedo at the end of the line, with sweat trickling down his happy face.

I learned that Andrew had caught more than 50 fish species on a fly.

“So what’s next on your list?” I asked him.

“Sailfish!” he replied without hesitation, as if it was just a matter of time before, with a twist of cotton and feather, he outwitted one of these wily game fish.

Sabal offers other water sports including scuba diving, wave snaking, power boating and skiing.

In many ways dinner with the entirely male staff at Sabal was a bit like being at a boarding school or a backpacker’s lodge.

I joined the food scrum and returned with a sizeable portion of salad, fish, bread and rice – it was tasty and filling but presented with little attention to detail.

Sabal does offer good value for ardent sports lovers who are prepared to overlook finer details: my room was bare, the mosquito nets were dirty and the water was so pungent that showering was unpleasant. But the good news is that a hostess has been appointed and craftsmen have been commissioned to work on the interiors.
All the while the memory of that photograph with my parents and their swordfish nagged at my memory. I just had to get to Par Island. So on the way to Benguerra Island we paid it a quick visit. Half an hour out from Bazaruto Island the outline of concrete buildings came slowly into focus. Soon my magic is-land – once one of Southern Africa’s favourite exotic destinations – appeared as a ruin of crumbling concrete and steel. When I landed furtive squatters peeked from behind makeshift washing lines and only the rows of broken lights along the concrete promenade were reminders that many romantic holidaymakers once passed this way hand in hand.

The cost to restore the island to its former glory will be considerable. But with its ivory-white beaches, protected coral reefs and exotic atmosphere it remains the most beautiful island in the archipelago. It was clear why my parents and countless others chose this as their honeymoon destination.

Back on the boat we turned away from this island of childhood dreams and crossed the narrow channel to Benguerra Island.
The thatched wood-and-reed buildings of Benguela Lodge beckoned us ashore – here, it seemed, was a new ‘paradise island’. The forest setting was so idyllic I almost expected Robinson Crusoe and Man Friday to pad down the beach.

But the lodge was hosting people more suave than those ragged castaways – advertising executives were celebrating hot new deals; newlyweds toasted their future and one well-heeled Zimbabwean family was testing its new twin-prop plane with a quick weekend jaunt to their favourite island.

Benguela is a place that has all the ingredients for a romantic island holiday. The lodge has a rustic reed bar, cosy couches to curl up in with a good book and delightful chalets just a few paces from the beach.

It was my bad luck that on this magical destination my stomach gave in. For the following two days, as the most impressive meals of the journey were served to those around me, my lot was bread and water.

At Benguela a ‘picnic’ can easily turn out to be prawns and home-made pecan-nut pie at a table on some deserted beach, while a ‘braai’ might become a banquet of curried crabs and crayfish grilled on an open fire on the beach. It seemed to me that the staff on this island – much like at game lodges – took great pleasure in providing the unexpected.

The island also has considerable promise for divers. A little to the west lies Two Mile Reef which is regarded by many as the best dive spot in the archipelago. Bob de Lacy Smith – a veteran of more than 6000 dives – is the master of these waters and it was a great privilege to join him on a morning plunge at The Pinnacles.

There was something quite extraordinary about diving with Bob. It wasn’t so much his bulky, reassuring shape, nor the slow speed with which he drifted through the water; it was the fact that he seemed to have some curious attraction for the denizens of the deep. In a little under all hour eagle rays, turtles and great clouds of schooling fusiliers all approached the wizard of these waters like obedient familiars.

Benguela is a great all rounder – in addition to diving and snorkelling there was a fleet of solid-hulled Acecats for game-fishing and fly-fishing and a catamaran up for grabs on the beach to catch a breeze across the bay.
A hot new subject in the archipelago was the new lodge being built on the southern shores of Benguerra Island. It’s called Marlin and – with satellite televi-sion, scuba diving, waterskiing and plans for such luxuries as a glass-bottomed boat for skimming over the reefs – it’s billed to become the most lavish of lodges.

But during my visit, amid banging hammers, grinding saws and with scores of toiling workmen moving about, it was nearly as hard conjuring up visions of paradise here than on the island with the rusting ruins.

The chalets were solidly built and connected
to one another by a gleaming boardwalk which will be romantically lit at night. Everything from the toilet-roll holders to the walls were made of the most magnificent wood. When Marlin has salt on the decks, pictures on the walls and characters behind the bars it’s certain to be a great destination – and for R900 a person a night it certainly should be!

One really good bit of news for Marlin is that diving wizard Bob de Lacy Smith will relocate there from Benguela to spice up the dive school.
South of Benguerra lies the tiny island of Magaruque. As was the case with Paradise Island, its hotel was built in the Portuguese colonial tradition with rows of box-like concrete buildings.

It’s in better repair than the one on Santa Carolina – but only just. The dining room has a bare concrete floor, plastic furniture and rather chipped, old crockery. There were rust marks in my shower and a hollow in my bed which threatened to engulf me.

The hotel may not be up to much but the natural beauty is hard to beat. In many ways this is the finest pearl in the island string. If you walk round its coastline (you can easily complete a full circuit in an afternoon) you will be rewarded with cowries, pansies and other delights littered on the untrammelled sands. There is also a deep channel right in front of the hotel where you can sit and watch schools of dolphin cruising by each afternoon.

There are talks of plans to upgrade the hotel but apparently these have been going on for many years without action.
My search for the island of my youthful desire was far from over. Five hundred kilometres to the south, off the harbour port of Maputo, lay my final Moambiqucan destination – Inhaca.

Here cracked tiles and leaky plumbing told more tales of neglect – but Pestana (it also runs Bazaruto Lodge) snapped shut the doors for substantial refurbishments straight after my visit.

Inhaca is a great place to unwind. Beside the pool were holidaymakers sprawled out beneath towering 30-metre palms which swayed in the breeze like fragile, fly-fishing rods. Others sat on the veranda sampling the pleasures of old Moambique – prego rolls for R20 and free bar-snack prawns.

Inhaca offers several excursions to explore its surroundings. I took a short boat tour to nearby Xefina Island which was once a prison. It was a sobering experience seeing the derelict, grafitti-covered cells and Second World War naval guns. The foundations of the batteries were washed away and the weapons lie tumbled and useless in the surf like giant, discarded toys.

Much less poignant were the overland excursions from the hotel in their open, bright-yellow Unimog.

It rolled through thick forest and past reed-walled villages where women bounced babies on their hips and the happy island sounds of Bob Marley drifted up from a suitcase-sized portable tape deck. I took the bus to the quaint Biological Museum on the coast. It’s just the sort of place from where you’d expect Ed Ricketts – the marine biologist from John Steinbeck’s Cannery Row – to emerge. The rooms were cluttered with more than 60 years of fascinating discoveries – fish in formalin, crabs and shrimps nailed to wooden boards and the white-washed skeleton of a dugong.

You can also enjoy water sports on Inhaca – but rough seas and poor visibility kept me in the boat. A little disgruntled at my bad luck with the dives, I threw a line overboard – and almost immediately the reel screamed as a kingfish took the lure.

I held the glistening, silver catch lightly in a wet towel, posed for a photograph and then lowered the fish back into the sea. It twitched briefly in my grasp and then finned away safely into the depths of the Indian Ocean. This wasn’t quite a swordfish, but the photograph would serve as a reminder of my fabulous foray to the peri-peri nut islands.

At Maputo airport it was reassuring to find that big tins of cashews were still on offer. In the plane home I began popping the delicious nuts into my mouth, savouring their exotic bite, and I soon slipped into a contented daydream about an old photograph and a small boy with a dream about travelling.

UPDATE JANUARY 2000

Sabal Lodge is no longer in operation. It was sold to 3 Cities over 18 months ago, but they sunsequently pulled out and there is a new owner,
but we are not sure what his intentions are regarding refurbishment and re-opening of the Lodge.

Andrew Parsons is now working as a full time Fly Fishing Guide for Benguerra Lodge. He has now caught over 72 species of fish on fly, but the sail fish
on fly is still elusive!

Bob de Lacy Smith is no longer in the area at all. He has returned to
East London with Penny, his wife, and is enjoying his grandchildren and
business producing and selling “Beach Bum Footwear”

Margaruque has been closed for over 18 months. Some of the buildings
have finally been knocked down, so we assume the refurbishment is going to
take place. – Margie Macduff from Benguerra Lodge