Southern Madagascar has been an arid harsh hot landscape of spiny bush, unforgiving in all aspects, no water except the local village well which takes one time to be able to stomach. The landscape is dotted with Tombs decorated with Christian and Pagan symbols. Cactus plants of

It was heading toward midday; deafening screaming of the Cicada beetles was starting to drive me mad. It was time to get out of the heat. My 30 km mark should be coming up soon. Finally ahead in the distance I could see one of the crew

This crazy island has them, and in a big way, unique in every aspect. As the morning sun begins to bake the landscape, the bugs get on the move with vengeance as if they are enraged by the heat. My day is spent pounding along the rural

I will never forget the feelings and emotions going through me as I paddled the last few kilometres towards the coast of Madagascar. This mysterious island was slowly growing bigger and bigger, palms, white beaches and the unknown. This was to be my home for the next

What a build up it’s been, just to get to this desolate barren godforsaken lost point of Madagascar. Eight days of travel, trouble, emotional turmoil and the long legged chicken belly, finally the most southern tip. Looking around, there is nothing. Civilisation has forgotten about this not

Red sand, cactus scrub, bonsai Baobabs, prehistoric trees, top this with over 40 degrees of heat no wind no water and finally just add a cherry to it with a humidity of 100%. That’s southern Madagascar. Being a novice to this area it’s a quick learning curve.

Sitting at Majunga airport, I was pleasantly surprised to see that the flight was early, contrary to what we were told about the unreliability of flights to outlying areas. The scream of the turbo prop drowned the entire bustle in the humid airport building, our enforced sauna. The

There is a line 40km of shore of the Madagascan coast of daily storm action, as the land air flows out over the ocean, meeting the moisture laden coastal air. Building massive banks of cloud and lots of static electricity, and this then lets rip into some

After days of relentless paddling, over 7 to 8 hours a day, all that I have had to hang on to is the reward of land some day when and where I was never sure. Each day a mind game, just to overcome a sterile visual cocoon,

Hour after hour, day after day in searing heat sometimes just less than 40 degrees. I tear my paddles trough the water stroke after stroke. Without a sound around me, except the slosh-slosh of the water as my paddles continuously break the surface. No land in sight