A Thousand Miles in a Machilla 



climate of the Luangwa valley may have evolved a 

 slightly different variety. 



Next morning saw us early on the road. We 

 passed through a very ** gamey " country, with large, 

 attractive-looking dambos, but saw only a few zebra. 

 These dambos — in which coarse grass was growing 

 — were nearly always dry; but in the centre, where 

 the water-course should be, were fragrant green 

 weeds growing thickly. As the season advanced 

 flowers appeared in these open spaces. In the 

 higher altitudes numbers of red-hot poker plants 

 {tritoma) were growing; wild and uncultivated, they 

 are smaller than those grown in our English gardens. 

 Later, amid the grass in the Wulangulu hills, 

 delicate little blue flowers appeared, but they were 

 too fragile to pluck, dying before we arrived in 

 camp. 



We had hoped to reach the Muchinga foothills 

 in the morning, and to commence our climb in the 

 afternoon, after the great heat was over; but about 

 lo A.M. we arrived at the point where the Nyamadzi 

 river diverged from our path, and ascertained that 

 the foothills were at least two hours* march further 

 on, and that as there was no water there it would 

 be impossible to camp. 



To climb the whole mountain in the scorching 

 midday sun was out of the question; there was 

 nothing to be done but to halt. Some difficulty 

 arose in finding a suitable place for our camp, as the 

 trees were poor and much of the grass unburnt. 

 One of the servants, going through the grass to 

 reconnoitre a likely-looking sausage-tree, stumbled 



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