There are other ways to travel the more than 700km that separate Vilankulos from the capital Maputo.
The aerial, of course. We were, however, at the beginning of a new African epic that we expected to last a few months. Common sense advised that we avoid disproportionate spending. We also knew that, up to Vilankulos, the N1, which serves as Mozambique's main artery, remained in good condition.
That would provide us with a very valuable contemplation of the landscape and roadside life. It was almost 10am, just the first two in the pre-dawn darkness. We arrived at Pembarra about noon. Vilankulos was still almost 20km away, towards the coast.
We fulfill them on board one of the sheeting that ensure shuttles on this bumpy route. Soon, we moved onto the city's main road, in the company of dozens of txopelas colorful and competitive.
The name is Mozambican. It redefines the motorized rickshaw, a much more popular vehicle in India, where over 8 million circulate, many more than those that are widespread in Mozambique.
A convenient transfer takes us from the plate terminal to Bahia Mar, the hotel that was going to welcome us, located to the north of the town, at the top of a slope, with a panoramic view of the sea below.
Vilankulos Bay at high tide
We rested a little, almost nothing. Unburdened by its marine-celestial theme, that panorama continued to dazzle us.
It motivated us to go exploring.
That's what we do.
Vilankulos, the Indian Ocean and the Ever-Changing Channel of Mozambique
With the tide about to reach full, we walked along the sand at the forested foot of the slope. In the direction of a comma-shaped peninsula, which generates a bay that retains a huge amount of coral sand.
This is one of the reasons for the shades of blue and green that the western threshold of the Indian Ocean assumes there, exacerbated by the shallow water and the intense tropical sun.
At around half past three in the afternoon, the great star passes west of the Mozambican coast. Little by little, the Mozambique Channel loses its turquoise-emerald tone.
It bequeaths much of the chromatic exuberance to the fleet of fishing boats that, finally, begin to rock again.
Herons in opportunistic landing
White herons perch on them, keeping an eye on others, active at the edge of the surf.
When we reach the tip of the peninsula, a darker blue fills the unattractive cove. Around a central point for unloading and trading fisheries, boats multiply.
Vilankulos, on a Monsoon and Hurricane Coast
We see them, anchored, some, almost on top of others. A few, half-sunk and damaged.
They were just one of the damages still visible from the most recent season of storms and hurricanes that, every year, between December and May, devastate the Mozambican coast, as Madagascar, east of the canal. The most famous typhoon of the last decade, it proved to be the “Idai” that left the city of Beira – the second largest in Mozambique – in an amphibious tragedy.
Vilankulos was recovering from the whims of “Eleanora” a tropical storm that did not develop into a typhoon. At that time, in March, the storm “Filipo” would still impact the region.
These were setbacks that the Vilankulos community had become accustomed to facing. Brigades made up of dozens of workers were engaged in removing trunks, branches and other artificial elements that the storm had pushed to the ground.
They shared the mission of returning to the sand the whiteness that best combined with the sea blues and greens, the one that the resorts above, as a rule, promoted.
Fish sellers on a balanced walk
The Dazzling Bazaruto Archipelago in Largo
Vilankulos is, after all, a coastal gateway to a pristine and stunning island domain, that of the Bazaruto archipelago.
Almost without exception, visitors to the city arrive and settle in with the dream of setting sail for the wonder islands offshore:
Bazaruto, the eponymous it's bigger. Benguerra, the neighbor just to the south. And Magaruque, the smallest.
Each one, a magnificent sandy and dunal stronghold, comparable to that of Machangulo, surrounded by an Indian Ocean even more seductive than that which bathes Vilankulos.
No downfall for the city and the region, which have long been developing due to the archipelago and the beauty of the Mozambique Channel.
Dhows travel along a canal
The Historical Origin and Confusing Etymology of Vilankulos
In its origins, according to abundant testimonies (although too cloned), the village was little more than the territory of a tribal chief, said to be his grace, Gamela Vilankulo Mukoke.
Now, due to successive contacts between the Portuguese with this area of the current province of Inhambane and with the said ruler, the colonists gave the name of the chege to the region. From this transposition and the different possibilities of writing it, the various current spellings emerged: Vilankulo, Vilankulos, Vilanculo and Vilanculos, with the official spelling remaining Vilankulo.
The first registration of the village dates back to 1913. In 1964, it was elevated to town and county seat. Fifty-six years after this promotion, only in 2020, Vilankulos became a city.
It is, once again, on its paths, with sunset closing the day, that we end the exhausting walk.
The increasingly busy life of the young city of Vilankulos
Along the so-called Main Street, with its little grocery stores and successive other businesses: tailors who sew on Singer machines, with a measuring tape around their necks,
Tailor produces pieces on his Singer sewing machine
fruit sellers with stalls set up on the ground, telecommunications credit resellers.
And, of course, there are countless other Txopela drivers who question us and even persecute us, like the mzungos (whites) were certainly wealthy and interested, as everyone believed we were.
They get the second of the premises right. We had already covered more than 5km on our legs, covered with heavy backpacks on our backs and, for the most part, on sinking sand.
Right there, the greenhouse heat typical of the rainy season and some, too much, dehydration get the better of it.
We bought water and some fruit. Soon, we were greeted by the wave of one of the several bus drivers. txopelas nearby, willing to haggle with the Maputo price reference.
Txopelas drivers passing the time
“This is Vilankulos!” claims the young driver, only partially satisfied. “Okay, but have you seen how many txopelas Are they keeping an eye on us, just around here?” The boy confirms and agrees.
We agreed on a middle ground, something suited to our aspirations.
Twenty minutes later, in the middle of the night, we took shelter in the comfort of Bahia Mar, hoping to recover the energy that the day had drained too much of.
Boat half-stranded by low tide
Empty Tide and the Mozambique Channel Discovered
We slept later than we expected. When we arrived at the hotel's panoramic balcony, the scenery ahead was different from that of the previous afternoon.
The tide was as low as possible.
It revealed a sodden bed that stretched for hundreds of meters.
A battalion of figures circled this exposed bed, here and there, organized in intriguing formations.
Faina during low tide
It was a whole new reality that made us worry again.
Without the intention of resisting, we speed up breakfast.
We replaced our backpacks and went down the stairs that connected the heights of the hotel to the beach.
Young mother with son on her back
With our feet on the sand, we began what would become a long photographic wandering.
A Communal Work without the Desired Results
We came across a few natives who were walking among wooden boats, dry, with the sails raised.
Fishermen off Vilankulos
And with others who, over small tidal lagoons, caught crustaceans and molluscs.
The real communal action, so to speak, took place a little further inland at low tide.
At the edge of the Indian Ocean, with the salt water knee-deep or even higher, fishermen, family members, men and women, some with children on their backs, tried to spread an immense net over a shallow sea that the current continued to move.
Community collection of a long fishing net
A few men, grouped together on a boat, pulled it into the canal and shouted instructions to the brigade that rolled it out onto land.
Ambitious, the project was supposed to last from early in the morning. Some long clothes, some caricatures, indicated him in his dysfunctional stew. It didn't seem to run smoothly.
People pulled and rolled the net into the boat. In the time we saw them perform the task, gifted with little or nothing.
Boat filled with a fishing community
Until, finally, the owners of the vessel surrender to the evidence and most of the assistants leave for parallel fishing, which is even more difficult and fruitless.
Nearby, inside another boat, a different group shows us the satisfactory result of their work:
three or four large ponds full of bivalves and crabs.
Crab in fisherman's hands
The tide, which soon rises, forces the crowd back onto the beach.
In half an hour, the sun reaches its zenith and returns to the canal the visual splendor that made Vilankulos what the city is.
Channels of the Mozambique Channel
Barring unforeseen weather conditions, over the years, this will also be the wealth that will feed the descendants of this generation dependent on fishing nets.
How to go
Fly to Vilankulos via Maputo, with TAP Air Portugal: flytap.com/ and FlyAirlink.
Book your travel program in Mozambique with the operator Quadrante Viagens: quadranteviagens.pt/.
Where to stay
Bahia Mar Boutique Hotel: https://www.bahiamarclub.com/
Email: [email protected]
Phone: +258 293 823 91 ; +258 842 754 389
