Exploring the Wonders of Madagascar

Lying in the Indian Ocean off the southeast coast of Africa, the island of Madagascar has evolved in splendid isolation for over 80 million years, resulting in a unique and startling world full of upside-down trees, stone forests, and, of course, lemurs.

Join us on a journey through this wildlife-rich destination that never fails to surprise.

Kirindy and the Baobabs

Start your trip in the west with wildlife encounters and a walk among iconic trees.

Jean Baptiste strolls cheerfully through the forest, arms swaying, flip-flops flapping. For the past hour, he has led the way through a tangle of paths that seem identical to the last, pausing to point out brown creatures hidden in the brown undergrowth—a twig-like pencil snake here, a fist-sized land snail there.

It takes some time to locate the lemur he spotted with barely a glance, but after much gesticulating (‘To the left of the fork, down from the second branch, no, not that branch, down further’), there it is: a sportive lemur, its teddy-bear head and goggly brown eyes poking out of a tree hollow. The sighting opens the floodgates to an embarrassment of encounters in the forest of Kirindy.

A few steps on, a black-and-white Verreaux’s sifaka appears far above, swinging between the treetops with the elegance of a trapeze artist. The tiny head of her baby peeks out from the fur of her belly. In a clearing nearby, Jean-Baptiste’s guttural ‘whoop-whoop’ attracts a family of red-bellied lemurs, and they soon make their way down from the canopy to inspect their human visitors.

The residents of Kirindy have made their home in the remains of the last dry deciduous forest on Madagascar’s west coast. This area supports eight species of lemur as well as the one creature in the country whose belly starts to rumble when it spots one. The forest is one of the best places to see the lemurs’ only predator, the endangered fossa.

Mamy Ramparany, who manages the ecological research centre at Kirindy, mentions that the fossa has been spending time beneath a cabin. “One of the major issues for them,” he notes, “is the destruction of their habitat through farming and logging. Maybe they come here because they don’t have enough food.”

Mamy watches as the creatures rise and stalk into the forest. “That is the challenge of conservation in Madagascar: to work out how people profit from the forest without destroying it,” he explains. “But it is an exciting challenge. As long as there are animals left, there is hope.”

The broad-trunked, spindly-topped trees that rise through the scrubby thicket of Kirindy give clues to the nature of that challenge. These are the famous baobabs, known as ‘mothers of the forest’ in Malagasy. The region was once full of them, but they are now commonly found standing alone, trunks thick as houses, towering over earth cleared by slash-and-burn.

Some 25 miles south of Kirindy, the Avenue des Baobabs stands as a proud reminder of what has been lost. At dawn, a thick mist covers the road, reducing the silhouettes of around 20 baobabs—some over 600 years old—to mere outlines. Farmers emerge through the fog, leading zebu cattle. As the sun rises, the mist dissipates, revealing life along the avenue: vehicles, small enclosures with frail baobab saplings, and signs of a brighter future amidst ancient trees.

The Road to Tsingy

Travel is a significant part of the adventure in Madagascar, particularly along the colorful journey on the bumpy 8a road from Kirindy to the north.

“Apart from its unique biodiversity, Madagascar is also known for its bad roads,” states local tour guide Dennis Rakotoson as he climbs into the jeep. While maps may say it’s a three-hour journey from Kirindy to Bekopaka, the reality often tells a different story. However, a day spent traveling the route can be just as exciting as a day exploring the forests.

The 8a is more rutted mud track than road, leaving behind the lush paddy fields surrounding the Avenue des Baobabs and becoming drier as the landscape shifts. Often, children can be seen along the roadside making their way to school, women balancing bundles on their heads, and families carrying out daily chores.

“The Malagasy are very attached to their zebu,” Dennis explains, leaning on the dashboard as they navigate potholes. Zebu are not only vital for transportation and farming but also play important roles in local rituals. At the halfway point of the journey, the road runs up to the great brown slug of the Tsiribihina River. Jeep passengers must board seemingly random ferries to cross, creating a unique travel experience along the way.

By the early afternoon, Belo sur Tsiribihina’s market is bustling, filled with traders offering sweet potatoes, sugarcane, and other local goods. From here, the road becomes increasingly challenging and adventurous.

As the heat of the day fades, roadside villages spring to life. Men cut earth into bricks while women rhythmically pound rice. Children run towards each passing vehicle, practicing their language skills and asking for pens or sweets. Finally, after more than 11 hours, the jeep arrives in Bekopaka, where the sun sets beautifully through the mangrove trees.

Tsingy de Bemaraha

Prepare for a couple of days of climbing and clambering in Madagascar’s most unusual national park.

In Bekopaka, three boys attempt to knock mangoes out of a tree with a stick, while jeeps park beside zebu carts. Visitors head to a small office to purchase tickets for Tsingy de Bemaraha National Park, the primary reason for traveling up the 8a road from Morondava.

The park consists of two sections, Petit and Grand. Guide Charles Andriasy leads visitors through a narrow passage, urging respect for sacred areas. The environment was once under the sea; now, it displays an extraordinary landscape of limestone spikes and caves, decorated with vines and wildlife.

A series of ropes, ladders, and bridges guide visitors, twisting through the rocks. Madagascar’s natural wildlife reinforces this spiny gray forest experience, where hoopoes and eagles soar above.

Despite the scrambling required to navigate Petit Tsingy, it merely prepares visitors for the main event ten miles away. At Grand Tsingy, climbing harnesses become essential as hikers navigate steep cliffs and narrow ledges, leading to spectacular views of the sprawling rock formations.

Emerging from the exertion, all becomes quiet in the forest. A lemur fidgets in its sleep while a female sifaka observes curiously. “The forest has the right idea,” says Charles, wiping his brow from the day’s exertion. “Siesta time.”

Andasibe-Mantadia National Park

Experience an intimate encounter with a host of lemurs in the mist-laden rainforests of eastern Madagascar.

Up on the central plateau of Madagascar, the cold dampness pervades. Tree frogs croak and chirp amidst water droplets hanging precariously from branches. Naturalist Luc Rajeriosa steps through thick foliage, trekking deeper into the thicket of bamboo while searching for nocturnal wildlife.

“Now you hear the song of the indri,” says Luc, gazing upward. The indri family swings from branch to branch, grooming as they embrace the fine rain. Locals do not harm the indri due to cultural beliefs. The sighting of these magnificent creatures showcases the park’s rich wildlife and highlights local conservation efforts.

In Andasibe-Mantadia National Park, various other fascinating species are present as well. From fuzzy-faced, ginger-limbed diademed sifakas to giraffe weevils and Madagascar tree boas, this park offers endless exploration. Luc’s mission, however, remains clear: to track the elusive babakoto, the indri, as he traverses the lush environment.

Pangalanes Canal

Lastly, take time to enjoy a leisurely meander along leafy canals and beach-lined lakes, keeping an eye out for the elusive aye-aye.

The half-moon casts a silver light through the forest, and the soft sounds of the Indian Ocean echo faintly nearby. After a short wait, the main attraction arrives silently—an aye-aye appears, a unique creature often misunderstood and feared due to local superstition.

The aye-aye is considered an endangered species, yet its home along the Pangalanes system showcases a rich cultural and natural landscape. Built in the 19th century, these waterways are still bustling with life as local fishermen and traders connect with the environment. If superstition holds truth, one glimpse of the aye-aye can mean danger is near, but on this night, nature feels calm and serene.