All children love maps.
In my case it all started with one of those Earth globes that glowed softly in the dark. It was actually my brother’s, but we shared most of our toys when we were little kids. I remember him pointing at countries and naming capitals, rivers and mountain ranges. I sat fascinated by places that at the time seemed impossibly far away.
Eventually it became something I would do too. Before long I had memorized all the countries from every continent, rivers, mountain ranges and capitals I probably would never visit. Some names sounded strange, others exotic and a few became unforgettable. One of them was Antananarivo.
At the time Madagascar felt like just another large island near Africa, probably not so different from the rest of the continent. I had no idea it would eventually lead to one of the most unforgettable journeys of our life.
Separated from Africa for tens of millions of years, Madagascar developed into its own world. Species evolved independently, ecosystems adapted in isolation and life followed directions found nowhere else on Earth. Lemurs, baobabs, fossas, giant chameleons and entire forests exist nowhere else on the planet.
Even the people who arrived on this island came from somewhere completely unexpected. Malagasy, the language, belongs to the Austronesian language family and is closer to the languages spoken in various regions of Borneo and Southeast Asia than to those spoken in mainland Africa. These peoples crossed enormous distances across the Indian Ocean using advanced sailing technology, and for hundreds of years these origins intermixed with African, Arabic and European influences and ultimately created one of the most distinct cultures on the continent.
That isolation is still visible today.
Although Madagascar is a huge country, approximately equal in size to the Iberian Peninsula and considered the fourth largest island in the world, infrastructure remains limited across much of the island. Many roads are either broken or only partially paved, though this is changing rapidly. Traveling across the island is long, slow and quickly becomes part of the experience itself.
Africa is often imagined through the lens of safari landscapes, however Madagascar feels totally different. Not solely because of the uniqueness of the wildlife, but because of the sheer diversity of environments concentrated within a single island. Rainforests, dry forests, limestone karst formations, high plateaus, mangrove swamps, tropical coastlines and isolated rural villages separated by roads that seemingly vanish into mud, fog or dust.
For an entire month we would be walking through all of those landscapes, but everything began in that place with a funny name, Antananarivo.
From Tana to Andasibe
After flying from Madrid to Paris and then southward through Eastern Africa we landed at night in Tana, as locals call it.
The airport was already a sign of what awaited us. There were advertisements for the 2023 Indian Ocean Island Games plastered over parts of the terminal while lines formed at currency exchange booths and SIM card vendors. The sounds of Malagasy, French and sporadic English surrounded us while drivers stood outside waiting with handwritten signs beneath fluorescent lights.
Our driver immediately taught us our first Malagasy phrases. Salama = hello. Misaotra = thank you. Azafady = excuse me.
The first night was brief and mostly strategic, as Madagascar didn’t really start in the capital city, but the following day heading east to Andasibe.
Malagasy standards consider Andasibe to be relatively close to Antananarivo. However, even considering the relatively short distance, the drive still takes several hours.
When leaving the capital city, the landscape rapidly transformed from rice terracing to eucalyptus forest and red dirt villages scattered across the highland region. We made several stops along the way.
Roadside markets appeared constantly beside the highway. These were makeshift collections of wooden structures and vegetables placed directly on the ground. Stacks of bananas and unfamiliar fruits were located adjacent to dried fish displayed under the open sky despite being miles away from the coast. People were always on the move between market stalls while overloaded minivans traversed villages trailing clouds of dust.
My first impression was movement occurring everywhere. Life felt really local and authentic.
I could find virtually no evidence of mass tourism anywhere outside of the national parks themselves. Most people around us were merely traveling between villages, carrying products, selling food, or tending rice paddies surrounding the roadway.
As we traveled further east, the landscape began changing slowly. The air became wetter and fog started developing over the mountains. Trees became thicker along the mountainous slopes while the roads continued to become increasingly muddy and narrow.
It wasn’t long before night fell rapidly. One moment sunlight filtered through cloud cover and the next moment the road had vanished into darkness. By the time we arrived in Andasibe, the rainforest had overtaken the whole landscape.
The Edge of the Rainforest
Forests near Andasibe and Mantadia form part of the last remaining eastern rainforests of Madagascar. These represent fragments of much larger ecosystems that once covered far greater portions of the island. These are ancient forests.
Dense, humid and biologically overwhelming environments where life appears to occupy every layer of space. Moss blankets tree trunks and branches while giant ferns rise from beneath the canopy. The air smells permanently of damp earth and vegetation.
Andasibe is also one of the most-visited protected areas in Madagascar mainly because it is one of the best places in the world to see the Indri, the largest living lemur.
During the next days we spent considerable time exploring several areas surrounding Andasibe including Mitsinjo & V.O.I.M.M.A, primarily consisting of nighttime walks and smaller community-managed rainforests, Mantadia during the day, a denser and rougher primary forest with fewer visitors, and finally Analamazaotra, perhaps the most renowned portion of the park system, particularly popular for resident Indri groups.
In addition to our driver-guide, Coleggue, accompanying us into reserves, local guides also walked with us once inside the park. These trackers possessed an amazing understanding of their environment. They knew exactly where specific lemur families rested, which trees attracted geckos and insects, and where chameleons slept at night.
Initially it felt staged, but you soon realized it was merely experience. Fano, our primary local guide, and then Flavia during our nighttime walk at V.O.I.M.M.A, consistently demonstrated a great knowledge of biology, local customs, animal behavior and many other things.
After Dark
If visiting the rainforest during daylight already felt kind of alien, things became even more surreal at night. Nighttime walks revealed an entirely different ecosystem hidden within essentially the same forest.
The humidity increased immediately following sunset and total darkness enveloped all areas outside of our flashlights. Frogs called continuously from every direction as insects previously hidden within moss and bark began moving through foliage.
Each flashlight beam illuminated something unusual. Chameleons hanging several meters above the ground while leaf-tailed geckos disguised themselves perfectly as bark. Small frogs that blended completely with leaves until the reflection from their eyes revealed them.
The rainforest operated differently at night. One aspect that fascinated me most regarding these nighttime walks was how respectfully our guides treated wildlife. They allowed animals to remain calm without unnecessary interaction. Frequently guides knew exactly where certain species would appear since they understood feeding patterns and sleeping sites with an uncanny degree of accuracy.
Some species also appeared quite indifferent toward humans. Madagascar possesses extremely low levels of native predators compared to mainland Africa, thus much of its wildlife has developed without constant predation pressures experienced elsewhere on the continent. For photography, this meant leaving the big zoom lenses at home. A simple 200mm was usually more than enough unless you planned to photograph birds.
One of our most memorable experiences was encountering a Parson’s Chameleon. Locating one is difficult enough, photographing one at least five meters above ground partially concealed between branches in complete darkness is a whole different story.
Another memorable moment was trying to spot the famous Comet Moth, one of the largest silk moths in the world, without success, only to later find one calmly sitting outside our cabin once we returned.
The Voice of the Forest
Perhaps the most memorable experience occurred early before sunrise on the second day.
A distant rising call moving through mist above the canopy, followed by a second response deeper within the forest. The Indri.
Indri calls carry for miles through rainforests and are unlike anything else in nature; somewhere between a whale song, a siren, and something ancient emerging from the forest itself.
The Indri is not only one of Madagascar’s most iconic creatures but also one closely associated with Malagasy belief systems and fady, Malagasy taboos and ancestral myths that pervade nearly all areas of the island. Some myths portray Indris (or Babakoto) as relatives or ancestors of humans. Other legends depict Indris worshiping the sun at dawn when they occasionally stand upright facing the morning light before calling.
Finally we spotted them high above us eating quietly from leaves while moving through the canopy with impressive agility.
They are certainly larger than most lemurs and remarkably expressive, however it is their movement that becomes etched in memory as suddenly they propel themselves acrobatically through enormous spaces separating trees with complete control.
Observing them eat and groom each other high above the forest floor sometimes felt strangely human, and deeply ancient too.
Return To Tana
Following a couple days in Andasibe we headed back west toward Tana.
Rainforests gradually disappeared behind us while highlands re-emerged through mist, rural villages and rice terraces. However, Madagascar already felt far larger and more fragmented than when we arrived.
Only Andasibe was merely the beginning. Ahead lay the dry forests of Kirindy, the baobabs of the western coastline and the limestone labyrinths of Bemaraha. We would be going through water crossings, dust roads and environments unlike the humid forests encountered in eastern Madagascar.
The island was already dividing itself into separate worlds.