- A team from The Wilderness Project is traversing Zambia’s Kafue River by canoe, collecting ecological data as part of a long-term survey.
- The expedition involves grueling portages over sharp, slippery rocks, close encounters with crocodiles and hippos and physically demanding conditions.
- Researchers gather DNA from fish and invasive crayfish, record nocturnal wildlife sounds and retrace a sampling transect first surveyed the year before.
- Despite the challenges, moments of beauty and wildlife encounters — from elephant herds to misty hornbill flights — punctuate the journey.
A crocodile flips over on the river’s surface right in front of the canoe, then disappears into the white water frothing through the narrow channel.
It’s too late to stop, but fortunately the croc (Crocodylus niloticus) is just as alarmed by the intruders as they are by it, and the canoe passes quickly over the spot, alighting safely alongside some rocks. The Kafue River, in central Zambia, is impassable at this point.
“There’s quite a big drop here that we have to do somewhere,” says Mike Ross, the expedition leader. The rapids are flanked by conglomerate rocks: small pebbles cemented together, some of them bleached pink as a hippo’s belly by the sun and water. To the uninitiated, carrying the canoes over this large, uneven jumble of boulders doesn’t look remotely possible.
The maneuver, known as portage, is nothing new to Ross. Earlier this year, on an expedition down Angola’s Cubango River, he and colleagues from The Wilderness Project (TWP) had to carry their gear and canoes over 26 rapids. This current expedition began its journey at the source of Zambia’s Lunga River, one of the Kafue’s major tributaries, more than 600 kilometers (373 miles) to the north, and the team has already been on the water for a month. Weary but well-drilled, they get ready to lift the five boats out of the water.
At these rapids, known as the Mayukuyuku rapids, the rough surfaces of the rocks press painfully against bare, slippery feet as Ross’ team maneuvers the long green canoes across. The boats are awkward to carry, and one man goes down — his foot slips, his leg disappears down a watery hole, and his chest slams against the pointed stern of the boat.
He picks himself up, winded, bloodied and bruised, and continues lifting the canoe over the rocks until they finally reach the next open stretch of water.
As the group pauses briefly to rest, trumpeter hornbills (Bycanistes bucinator) fly overhead, lifting on strong wingbeats then nosediving as if drawn downward by their heavy bills. Team members mess around with the whitened jawbone of a hippo that’s been washed up onto the rocks — putting it on top of their heads and holding it under their jaws. It’s a lighter moment amid taxing work.
Ross describes TWP as a “data collection machine,” and the work along this section of the Kafue — the second in a year — never ceases. The camp wakes up while it’s still dark and the fiery-necked nightjars (Caprimulgus pectoralis) are still calling. At daybreak, nets and traps put out the night before are drawn in and examined for fish and invasive crayfish. DNA samples from both are collected and logged; passive acoustic recorders placed near the river to capture the calls of bats, frogs and nocturnal birds are retrieved; and camp is broken down, with mountains of gear stowed aboard the canoes.
The data feed into the team’s broader mission to assess the ecological health of the Kafue. It’s part of continentwide initiative by TWP to build a baseline of biodiversity, water health and human impacts along Africa’s major rivers. On the Kafue, that means collecting information on animals, people, buildings and boats — all while dodging hippos (Hippopotamus amphibius) that surface slick and shining without warning, or come charging down from the riverbanks.
There are upset stomachs from bugs passed between team members in rough living conditions; dehydration, sunburn and hours of paddling in choppy water with what Kyle Gordon, Ross’ second in command, describes as, “Everyone battered by the wind, looking up with grim faces and gritted teeth.”
But there are also moments to pause and reflect on the beauty of the river, whose name means “small bone” in the local Kaonde language. There are pebbly shorelines fringed with bicolored waterberry trees (Syzygium guineense barotsense), their exposed white roots gripping the riverbanks like skeletal hands; turkey-sized southern ground hornbills (Bucorvus leadbeateri) flying over the mist-shrouded river, their white underwings flashing in the rising sun.
Back at the Mayukuyuku rapids, another tumultuous section of the river forces a second portage over rocks. This time, there are no mishaps.
And then, finally, a reward: an elephant herd — six adults and three youngsters — quietly drinking at the water’s edge.
Gordon paddles out into the center of the river to get a closer look.
“Croc on a rock!” someone shouts.
This one slips quickly and silently into the river.
A fitting bookend to a difficult portage.
Mongabay joined an expedition of The Wilderness Project traveling the length of the Kafue River, part of TWP’s wider project to gather data in Africa’s major river basins. Read Ryan Truscott’s other articles from this journey here.
Banner image: Expedition leader Mike Ross and boat captain Vincent Ifunga ease their canoe down rapids along the Kafue River. Image courtesy of Kyle Gordon.
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