After a spectacular safari season, my family and I spent a week on northern Mozambique’s Vamizi Island, a small, 12-km long isle of the finest sugar sand and coastal bushland in the Indian Ocean. Remote and somewhat difficult to get to, it is a perfect destination for families as well as couples. There are just four exquisite private villas and one small ‘lodge’ consisting of several well-spaced, independent rooms within a 5-10 minute walk along the beach from the main dining area and bar.
With some of the best diving and snorkeling in the Indian Ocean, sea turtle nests, humpback whales, giant coconut crabs, and too many assorted hermit crabs for two children to ever count, Vamizi demands to be visited more than once….
Here is a little photo safari from our trip:
Our first glimpse of the island.
Dining by the sea
Ollie snorkeling with the fish above the staghorn coral.
The first of many, many hermit crabs.
Our own private beach.
Coral and clam.
Discovering a starfish.
The bedroom of our “kitala”.
The lovely, open bathroom in our “kitala”, complete with Africology bath products made with African essential oils.
The verandah of our kitala.
Fresh fruit and homemade bread for breakfast.
The chef’s homemade muesli and jams.
Weaver birds were building their nests and courting at the bar.
The Vamizi Noodle Thief strikes again!
Hermit crabs big….
…and hermit crabs small!
We found speckled moray eels in tidal pools.
Herons hunted along the shore.
Sunset at the old Portuguese lighthouse on the tip of the island.
A visit to the Muntu Nkulu estuary on the other side of the island.
A subspecies of blue monkey called the samango monkey inhabits Vamizi as well as coastal Mozambique.
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On our last full day in the Masai Mara this season, we stumbled upon the aftermath of what must have been a mighty battle between male lions. Lying battered and forlorn on the open plain was the defeated intruder, who had recently ventured into the territory of the two impressive males who dominate the part of the Mara Triangle that includes our favorite campsite.
As we pulled up to the scene, one of the resident males, huge with a blond mohawk, softly roared as he sauntered past the loser, who could barely move his front legs or even lift his head under the weigh of his blood-soaked, rumpled mane. He had suffered at least one wicked bite to the top of his head. We weren’t convinced he would even be able to make it to the shade and water just 150 meters away.
Meanwhile, over the slight rise to the northwest, the dark-maned victor – the other resident male – was now enjoying a honeymoon with one of his pride females, and he looked none the worse for wear with but a few scratches on his flanks, chest, and shoulders. He appeared truly regal in the Mara light. We may have missed the actual battle, but it was clear what had happened – we were witnessing for ourselves some of the drama recently brought to life on the pages of National Geographic by David Quammen and Michael Nichols. (Read “The Short Happy Life of a Sergengeti Lion” here)
The next morning, while reveling in our last Mara sunrise for perhaps a couple of months, we set out to find the wounded male, to see if he made it through the night. We searched the bushes lining the small stream closest to where the fight had occurred, our eyes focused downward. Solomon casually told me to stop the car. We assumed he had seen the lion, but he had actually spotted a leopard in a tree right next to us. Luckily Solomon was also looking up!
We watched the little female for at least 15 minutes in the dawn light and were actually puzzled by her reluctance to hop down the tree trunk to go out of sight. She instead moved like a chameleon and attempted to go higher into the dense foliage of the tree. Solomon enlightened us again: he spotted the injured lion in a thicket just below the leopard tree. Eventually the leopard decided the lion was not a threat, slinked down the tree, and silently disappeared upstream. We left the lion in peace hoping he would live to fight another day, but we were informed by the rangers of the Mara conservancy that he succumbed to his injuries later that day.
Watching this drama unfold reminded us of what a special place the Masai Mara continues to be. Being tucked away in our own camp in a private corner of the reserve, we were fortunate to experience – on our own – the quintessential purity of ‘nature red in tooth and claw’, and that feeling of true wilderness that is getting harder and harder to find.
The king came away with just a few scratches
The defeated intruder under the weight of his injuries
The king mating with a pride female
The leopard went up high in the tree
She finally came down
The king’s right-hand man
The king of the Mara
