Boarding Pass: TNR-MOQ-NOS
Photo map of Madagascar. Click on image for interactive map.
Madagascar was always in our future; not whether, but when. We choose a lot of our locations based on opportunity. Flight loads, time frame, weather, and a baseline interest in the location align, and off we trot to the airport. But in my mind (and yes, in my Google Sheets) there are nonnegotiables, those hell-or-high-water destinations that I WILL visit. In the case of Madagascar, hell turned out to be rough roads and dodgy flight schedules, and high water was a ferry with a busted engine. Planning required patience and perseverance. Execution demanded a resilient buttock and a non-zero dosage of Imodium. Making it happen logistically seemed like a challenge, until it was time to step off the plane and really get to work.
This trip had a lot of moving parts compared to previous city breaks and one-stop-hops we’ve done in the past. Madagascar is big, most of the roads aren’t paved outside the major cities, and air service is limited to one carrier of questionable repute, Madagascar Airlines. In prioritizing our destinations, we decided we wanted to see lemurs in the wild, the Avenue of Baobabs, and the Tsingy de Bemeraha. We knew we would spend a lot of time in some rough and outdoorsy conditions, so we wanted a taste of luxury at the end. Enter Nosy Be. I had been thinking along the lines of Zanzibar, then I learned about this jewel off Madagascar’s north coast. As soon as I learned there was a direct flight to Addis Ababa from Nosy Be, the itinerary started falling into place. We would fly into Antananarivo, Madagascar’s capital (aka Tana, airport code TNR), fly to Morondava (MOQ) on the west coast to position us for a tour through the Avenue of Baobabs and the Tsingy, then fly via Tana to finish our trip in Nosy Be (NOS) and head home from there.
Transportation is tricky in western Madagascar. This was one of the best roads.
If just reading that made you tired, try booking it. Summoning all my Travel Tetris skills, and firm in my conviction that a dubious 45-minute flight beat a 2-day drive, I set up our nine (!) flights , five hotels, and three-day ground tour with my fingers crossed. Spoiler alert: we pulled it off.
We began our trip with a positioning flight to Washington Dulles, followed by flights on Ethiopian Airlines to Antananarivo via Addis Ababa. We arrived early Friday afternoon. I had given us 2 nights in Tana to allow for any delays in transit, and to block some time to rest up after the long trip over. We stayed in the city center at the historic Hotel Le Louvre, hoping to get a look at the city.
Ha. Not a chance.
The mass of people (mostly children) approaching the windows of our taxi every time we slowed down on our way through the city was our first clue. To step outside our hotel was to be approached instantly (not unusual), and no amount of “non” could shake us loose (usually 2-3 times will do it). There was no easy answer; to give a bit of money meant getting swarmed by 20 more people, and to say no got you someone following you six inches away for the next 10 minutes or when you retreated inside, whichever came first. While we understand that the situation is desperate and do not blame anyone for circumstances beyond their control, there is also such a thing as personal safety. And enjoying your long-awaited, hard-earned vacation.
Getting out of town for a morning at Lemurs Park.
I always have a trick up my sleeve, you know that. In this case the wild card was Lemurs Park, a sanctuary about 45 minutes west of Tana that provides a refuge for lemurs rescued from private ownership (illegal in Madagascar). Although this was not truly a wild habitat, it gave us a chance to learn more about several species of lemurs and for me to practice photographing them. We invited our driver Luc to join us, and our guide gave the tour in both English and Malagasy. Tana traffic is no joke, and it took us almost 2 hours to get back into town. We had lunch at the hotel and were hit with a surge of swagger. We agreed to walk outside just for a minute to see if I could get one photo of the city before we left the next morning. A surveillance run through the park across the street revealed the Thousand Stairs of Tana to be RIGHT THERE, so I had to try. I bulldozed my way into the crushing crowd with my camera, got my shot at the top of the stairs, then Flo Jo’d to a side street and back to the hotel lobby. Photons on the sensor, Tana was sorted.
View of Antananarivo from the top of the Thousand Stairs of Tana.
Tana didn’t get us down, as we knew it was just an entry point on this trip. We had fun at Lemurs Park, which we considered a bonus. We flew to Morondava early the next morning, and arrived to a cleansing breath of fresh coastal air. We arrived at the fabulous Palissandre Côte Ouest to a greeting of green tea and expansive views of the Mozambique Channel. My only photography thus far had occurred at Lemurs Park and my brief sprint across the park in Tana, so I was very eager to take my camera for a spin (and dip my toes in the Indian Ocean for the first time). I was welcomed by fishermen and women with their nets in the shallows and proas with square sails on the water. A walk on the beach and sunset on the front porch of our bungalow charged our batteries for the big event the next day: our tour to the Tsingy through the Avenue of Baobabs. As we sat in the cool predawn air enjoying a delicious breakfast of croissants and coffee the next morning, we had no idea of the challenges awaiting us. Ignorance was indeed bliss, and we were about to get aggressively schooled by our inaugural Madagascar road trip.
Sunset over the Mozambique Channel.
Our driver from Madagascar Travel and Tours picked us up early and we hit the road. Road is a term used generously here, as it was little more than a cattle track filled with potholes most of the way. Still jonesing to do some street photography, I sat in the backseat with my camera all 24-105mm’d up and ready to rumble. We headed east into the sunrise, then turned north on Route 8, which would take us through the Avenue of Baobabs and onward to the Tsingy. The baobabs are known for being beautiful at sunset, but early-to-midmorning turned out to be awe-inspiring as well. The trees are very old, very tall, and cast impressive overscale shadows at that time of day. Additionally, there are locals walking, riding bikes, and driving zebu carts up and down the road as they go about their daily business. One of my goals for this trip was to photograph these trees with people in the frame for scale, and this is when I did it. Unbeknownst to me until later, Jay took a great shot of me walking through the baobabs with his phone. I was having a great time getting some arty, atmospheric shots through the dust and glare of the windshield when my vestibular hubris and my breakfast caught up with me, flinging me to all fours on the side of Route 8. Nausea resolved and motion sickness acknowledged, I traded for Jay’s seat in the front and put my camera away. Two hours down, six to go. And the road would only get rougher from here.
Doing my thing. Photo credit Jay Bratschi.
Getting to the Tsingy involves taking two ferries. We made it across the first in a little over an hour and stopped for a delicious lunch at the Mad Zebu in Belo Tsiribihina. We made our slow, bumpy way to the second ferry by sunset. We got there to join a long line of 4x4’s that were also waiting to cross. We learned that the motor for the ferry was broken, requiring it to be manually pushed across the river by men with long poles. Three trucks at a time, max. This was a gut punch after such a long day, as we could practically see our hotel on the other side. Thankfully, the evening was cool, so we got out of the truck to wait. I saw some local kids, along with a boy from the Nat Geo tour group, playing a pickup soccer game beside the river. Determined to make lemonade from lemons, I grabbed my camera and took some action photos of their match. It was a challenging photography climate, as the light was low and the players were fast. There is no shame in my ISO game, especially with my R6 Mark II, so I cranked it to the gods to allow an adequate shutter speed for sports. In the end, I got some really great shots and was able to pass the time productively. We finally got our turn to cross the river and checked into the Orchidée du Bemaraha Hotel, our home for the next two nights.
Sunset scrimmage beside the Manambolo River.
We thought we were up early the next morning. We found out later that our driver had rolled out at 4 am to get to the National Parks office in time to get our tickets and guide arranged for the Tsingy tour that day. As we ate breakfast, I looked out over the Manambolo River (same one from last night) and saw the fog rising as the sun did the same. I abandoned my breakfast (in a much less dramatic way than I abandoned it the day before) and returned to the room for my camera. I don’t consider myself primarily a landscape photographer, but who wants to be a one-trick pony? I channeled my inner Ansel and was glad I seized the moment. We met our driver, stopped at the park office to pick up our guide, and made the one-hour, 17 km journey to the Tsingy de Bemeraha National Park. Our guide sized us for harnesses, then showed us a map and asked which direction we wanted to start our hike. I told him I wanted to go the way with the best chance of seeing animals. He said “Ok, forest first, maybe we’ll get lucky.” If I came all this way and didn’t see lemurs in the forest I was going to lose my mind, but I held myself together and got my equipment ready. With my 70-300mm mounted for maximum treetop lemur capture, we took off down the trail.
A foggy sunrise over the river in Bekopaka.
There are over 100 species of lemurs, and 11 of them live in this park. Just minutes after we entered the forest, our guide stopped. He pointed at a tree to our right, where a sportive lemur was resting. This was not a species I was expecting to see, as they are nocturnal. But there he was, perfectly still, big orange eyes looking toward us. My hopes instantly skyrocketed that we would see enough lemurs to make our difficult trip worthwhile. Then the sifakas came to town, and the first one we saw had a baby on her stomach. They seemed to multiply out of thin air, leaping from branch to branch. As gold and green leaves showered down on me from their bouncing directly overhead, I knew I would make the trip 100 times again just for this moment. The brown lemurs we saw next were both more numerous and more sedate, preferring to chill on branches and watch us with mild curiousity as we walked past. We also saw several bird species, including the Malagasy paradise flycatcher and the vasa parrot. Then we ran up against an actual stone wall; it was time to climb the Tsingy.
A mother sifaka with her baby at Tsingy de Bemeraha National Park.
Remember that time our guide fitted us for harnesses before we started our hike? Now it was time to get into them and start climbing. I expected it to be a tough ascent, but I have to say it was more treacherous than I expected. As we clipped in and climbed up, I thought about how many releases we would have been required to sign if we were participating in this activity in the US. Scratch that, it would never happen here. Just another day in the Tsingy, though. Easily two solid hours of the four we spent in the park involved climbing up rock faces or slithering through caves. The views at the top were incredible, made more so by the fact that we had to work so hard to get up there. We crossed the famous rope bridge and made our way back down to the forest. We saw more sportive lemurs, brown lemurs, and birds on the way out. After the bumpy ride back, I was done for the day. I showered, ate, and savored an evening of relaxation before the long drive back to Morondava the next day. Knowing now what we were in for, I was NOT looking forward to it at all.
The vertiginous view from the top of the Tsingy. Maybe the only time I looked down.
Our driver suggested a 5 am start the next morning so we could line up first for the ferry. No arguments here, given our experience from the previous crossing. After a little over an hour of stargazing, the ferry cranked up (good news! The engines were repaired). Our early start meant no breakfast or coffee at the hotel, but our man at the wheel knew a place we could stop. That place was under a few enormous mango trees where some enterprising young ladies with a coffeepot, snacks, and a boom box had set up shop. Enjoying that roadside coffee in a tin cup on a cool Madagascar morning was one of my favorite experiences of the trip. A couple of zebu, a few goats, and some silly dancing with the proprietresses completed the scene. Caffeinated, we continued our slow roll south.
We would stop again in Belo Tsiribihina, just before our final ferry. We arrived a little early for lunch, thanks to our predawn departure from Bekopaka. We agreed to meet up in about half an hour when the restaurants opened, and Jay and I set off for a stroll around the town. Due to our previous experiences, I had resigned myself to the fact that I might not get to shoot in a town or village at all. Now a 30-minute gift had dropped right into my lap. We made a square circuit and ended up back at our vehicle. I had noticed a group of three girls, ages maybe 3 to about 5, nearby. I sat on a bench in the shade to check out the photos I had just taken and felt a small presence at my elbow. I looked up to see the smallest girl next to me with her friends right behind, helping me review my photos. I have almost no French, but I had just taken a photo of a goat, and I remembered the word for that (I love goat cheese, ok?). I scrolled to the picture of the goat, showed it to the girls, and said, “Chèvre!” They graciously refrained from ridiculing my pronunciation, and I enjoyed communing with some fellow goat enthusiasts.
The chevre I shared with my little buddies in Belo Tsiribihina.
Another ferry crossing, and we were on the homestretch. The focus of the afternoon would be one of the main objectives of our trip, the baobabs. We stopped to see the Baobab Amoureaux, or Baobabs in Love, then continued to the Avenue of Baobabs in time for sunset. As did every other traveler on Route 8 that day. This was clearly a job for my widest lens, my 14 mm. I got the requisite golden hour straight shots up the alley to the north, but I also focused on some impressive lens flares and silhouetted vehicles passing by from an east-to-west shooting position. I used a trick I learned in the past, letting the edges of the shadows guide me to likely lens flare locations. Saves some wandering around and wear and tear on the old retinas. It was then I had one of the most bone-chilling moments of the trip. I was happily walking through a field looking for my sunset spot when I saw a larged winged insect fly by. Very cool, probably some gigantic Madagascan dragonfly. Less than a minute later, I heard a much louder, much deeper buzzing right over my head. We’re talking a LOT of bass, Mothra-style. I thought, this is it, wondering which exotic brand of venom was about to flow through my person. I looked up to meet my final nemesis, and it was just a drone. I convulsed with laughter in lieu of a neurotoxin. I’d like to think I made the blooper reel of the pilot’s B-roll.
Going toward the light minutes after my near-death experience at the Avenue of Baobabs.
It was a productive day, albeit a long and dusty one. We arrived back at the Palissandre for one more night before the next phase of our trip. The next morning, I made a trip out to the beach with my camera to catch it in different light and at a quieter time than my previous afternoon visit. A couple of fishermen, a few boats, some kids playing soccer, all to a soundtrack of gentle wave action. Add a dose of marine layer and baby, you’ve got yourself a shoot. This was a nice bookend to our brief time in Morondava. I was now in a seaside state of mind for our final destination, Nosy Be.
An early riser in Morondava.
Back to the airport, back on the Dash 8 to Tana. We had an overnight layover for a 5 am flight to Nosy Be the next morning. Rather than trek back into the city, I got us a room at the Asia and Africa Hotel down the road from the airport. This turned out to be an experience in itself. The hotel is very grand, very big, and very Asian-themed. To our delight, the theme extended to the hotel restaurant, where we had some delicious Chinese cuisine. The next day, we found ourselves in Nosy Be almost before our eyes were fully open. We were whisked across the island to the beautiful L’Heure Bleue, where a delicious breakfast awaited us. This hotel was exactly the little bit of luxury we needed after our rewarding but challenging days on the main island. We retired to the balcony of our lodge, Jay crashing on the outdoor lounger for a power nap and yours truly working her long lens for all its worth. We spent the next two nights here enjoying the stunning beach and chic accommodations.
The sun rises over Nosy Be.
We headed for the airport thinking our Madagascar adventure was complete. Not so, it turned out. As we attempted to check in for our flight to Addis, the computer returned a message suggesting we needed an ESTA (false, as we are US citizens). Perplexed, the airport manager retreated to his office, never to return. I made an unanswered call to the US embassy in Madagascar (thanks homies), and contacted Ethiopian Airlines to make sure there was no issue with our tickets (there wasn’t). After we sat parked on the side of the check-in desk for over an hour, Jay lit a polite but toasty fire under Monsiuer L’Aéroport resulting in handwritten boarding passes for the two of us. At the security checkpoint ten feet away, we had to reinvent the wheel as the security staff were highly scandalized by these sketchy boarding passes and our apparent general shiftiness. The side-eye was of such intensity that I was shocked they could remain upright. Once they unclutched their collective pearls, we were finally on our way. We landed in Addis expecting Round 2 for our connecting flight to Washington, but the staff there are absolute pros and got it all figured out for us while we chowed down in the lounge. All’s well that ends well, and we can add this to our “experienced traveler” street cred.
Time and space break down a bit on the Eighth Continent. Distances expand, time slows down, and momentum grinds to a halt. But when the lemur jumped and the leaves rained down, I was transported to a dimension where none of that mattered anymore. No wormhole required, just a few days in Madagascar.
