Explore Malawi's highlands national parks and the shimmering shores of Lake Malawi on this 10 day journey blending wildlife safaris lakeside relaxation and warm cultural encounters across the heart of southern Africa.
Malawi: Zomba Plateau
Malawi: Zomba Plateau
🏛️ A Once-Grand Old Capital
Right, so here’s the thing about Zomba: it used to be somebody important. Before independence came along in 1964, this little spot in the Shire Highlands was the seat of power for the whole of British Central Africa, and later for the Nyasaland Protectorate, going right back to 1891. It even carried on as Malawi’s capital for the first decade or so after the British packed up and went home, only losing that title to Lilongwe in 1975 when Dr Hastings Banda decided a more central spot suited him better, what with him having been born just up the road from the new place. Funny how these things work out. We found it a proper eye-opener walking round, because you can still see the bones of that old colonial administration everywhere you look – the former Residency, built back in 1887 to keep the early settlers safe from slave traders, still stands down by the Mulunguzi River, and the old Parliament building from 1957 is still there too, even though the politicians cleared off to Lilongwe for good in 1994. These days Zomba is a fairly modest sort of town, home to something like ninety to a hundred thousand souls depending on whose figures you believe, and it struggles to provide proper infrastructure for them all. Malawi as a country is one of the poorest on the continent, with most folk getting by on subsistence farming, and the population is famously one of the youngest anywhere in the world. We couldn’t help feeling for them, because unless something changes rather dramatically, and soon, the job prospects for all these young people don’t look terribly promising. It’s a sobering thought to carry up a mountain, that’s for sure.
⛰️ Up the Mountain to Zomba Forest Lodge
Looming over the whole town like a great green wall is Zomba Mountain itself, a steep-sided lump that gets called a table mountain in most of the guidebooks, though as we’d later discover that’s not quite the full story once you actually get up there and walk about properly. The mountain rises to somewhere around two thousand metres above sea level, which puts the air noticeably cooler than down in the town, and it was precisely that cooler climate that drew the early British settlers and colonial administrators up here in the first place, back in the latter years of the nineteenth century, when escaping the punishing lowland heat was no small consideration for anyone used to a more temperate corner of the world. Our base for the next couple of days was to be Zomba Forest Lodge, tucked away somewhere up on its flank between the bustle of the town below and the wild plateau above, and getting there turned out to be something of an adventure in its own right, which we’ll come back to in a bit, because it’s a tale worth telling properly rather than rushing through.
🍸 Settling In and Watching the Sun Go Down
We finally rolled up at the lodge and got a proper warm welcome from our host Tom, who, as it happens, hails from somewhere between Northampton and Southampton – he was a bit vague on the exact postcode, bless him, but we liked him all the same. After a bit of lunch and a well-earned siesta, the kind you only really appreciate once you’re past fifty, we had a wander round the grounds, which were genuinely lovely. By the time we’d finished pottering about it was nearly sundown, so naturally we did the sensible English thing and got ourselves a gin and tonic for a proper sundowner, then strolled a little way up the road to watch the sun do its disappearing act behind the hills. Can’t say fairer than that for an evening’s entertainment, really.
🤒 Karen Goes Down with a Cold
Now then, Karen had been feeling a bit off colour the previous day, the sort of scratchy throat that tells you something’s brewing, and sure enough, overnight the cold broke properly and by the morning she was feeling thoroughly rotten. So we made the only sensible call available to us: she’d stay put at the lodge and have a quiet day of it, while I’d head off and do the big hike on my own. Not quite what we’d planned, but there you go, that’s travelling for you, always keeping you on your toes.
The staff at Zomba Forest Lodge laid on the most tremendous breakfast that morning, including some fresh, warm muffins that were honestly to die for, the sort that make you wonder why you ever bother with shop-bought ones back home. Even feeling as grim as she did, Karen still managed to polish off one of those muffins, which I took as a fairly reliable sign she’d live to tell the tale.
So, armed with my camera and a packed lunch, I headed out to meet Chipi, who was to be my guide for what was billed as a four-and-a-half hour hike, though as anyone who’s ever trusted a guidebook’s timing will know, that figure is best treated as a polite suggestion rather than a promise. I picked him up a little way down the mountain from the lodge and we drove back up by a different route altogether, eventually parking outside the Sunbird Hotel, a place with its own slice of history as one of the older established hotels up on the plateau, dating from the years when this sort of mountain retreat was firmly the preserve of colonial officials and their families looking to escape the lowland heat for a few days. Now, the top of Zomba mountain is a curious thing indeed. I’d been calling it a table mountain, in the way you might describe its more famous South African cousin down in Cape Town, but that’s not strictly accurate, because the summit up here is anything but flat. What you actually get instead is a ridge running almost the whole way round the rim, so the whole thing looks for all the world like a volcanic crater, even though it isn’t one in any geological sense whatsoever – it’s simply how the rock has weathered and eroded away over countless millennia, leaving this strange rim-and-bowl shape behind. Inside that ridge there’s a proper little world all of its own: hidden valleys, rolling hills, a natural lake, and a man-made reservoir, the Mulunguzi Dam, built with assistance from European funders to supply fresh drinking water down to Zomba town below. As Chipi and I made our way along the early stretches of track, we passed great piles of freshly cut wood and gangs of men working away with table saws and chainsaws on enormous tree trunks. There’s an absolutely enormous amount of logging and wood-gathering that goes on up here on a daily basis, and I should say straight away it’s not big commercial business in the way you might picture from the comfort of an armchair back home, more often it’s individual men cutting and bundling the timber entirely by hand, then carrying these huge loads balanced on their heads all the way back down the steep mountain trails on foot, just to sell a few pence worth in town. It’s a brutally hard, backbreaking way to scrape a living, but for most of these chaps there simply isn’t another option realistically on the table given the state of the wider economy. The trouble, and it’s a serious one, is that Malawi as a whole has an absolutely enormous deforestation crisis on its hands – something like eighty-five per cent of the entire country’s trees have already been felled in the last thirty years alone, and at the current rate of destruction there’ll be no usable biomass left whatsoever by the year 2030, which when you stop to think about it is no great distance away. Think about what that actually means in practical terms for ordinary families: no fuel left for cooking or heating their homes, and serious knock-on troubles with both water supply and food production close behind, since the forests play such a crucial role in holding the soil and the watershed together. It really doesn’t look good at all, however you slice it. The government, to be fair to them, does talk a reasonably decent game about educating local communities on the long-term importance of the forests and about replanting schemes where the budget allows, but there’s precious little effective management actually happening on the ground to back all those fine words up with real action. The Zomba forest itself is a perfect, if rather depressing, case study in this regard – would you believe there are only five rangers employed in total to police the whole area against illegal logging? Five blokes. You’d struggle to patrol a decent-sized allotment back home with that many people, let alone an entire sprawling mountain forest covering many square kilometres.
🌲 Colonial Pines and a Detour to Williams Falls
Anyway, back to the hike itself, because I’m in serious danger of going on a bit, as Karen always tells me I do once I get started on a subject I care about. I followed Chipi along the old logging roads that wind their way steadily up toward the ridged summit, the gradient just steep enough to remind your legs you’re not in your twenties any more. Along the route we passed through groves of trees, very few of which were actually indigenous to Malawi, having been planted instead by British colonial foresters during the protectorate decades, mostly with an eye to providing a steady, reliable timber supply for the growing settlement down below. There were also large stretches of logged-out pine plantation, and in places these had since been replanted, some with the original native species in an attempt to restore a bit of the natural balance, and others simply with yet more fast-growing pine because it’s the quicker, more economical option. The trouble with the pine, though clever enough as a short-term fix, is that even at its quickest possible growth rate it simply cannot keep pace with the relentless demands of Malawi’s ever-expanding population, which is one of the fastest growing in the world. We took a short diversion off the main track to take a look at Williams Falls, a modest but genuinely pretty little waterfall tumbling over smooth rock on the river that ultimately feeds the reservoir further down the mountain. After a good two hours of fairly relentless climbing, with the path growing steadily rockier underfoot, we finally reached the top, where there are two famous viewpoints, Queen’s View and Emperor’s View, both steeped in a proper bit of history that’s worth knowing before you go. Queen’s View takes its name from a visit by Queen Elizabeth, the Queen Mother, back in the early 1960s, a stop on her wider tour of the colonial territories of the day, while Emperor’s View commemorates a visit not long after by Emperor Haile Selassie of Ethiopia, a man revered to this day right across the Rastafarian movement worldwide, some of whose followers still make pilgrimages up to this very spot to meditate where he once stood. From these two viewpoints you’re meant to get sweeping panoramic views right across Zomba town to the surrounding hills and out towards Mount Mulanje in the distance, but on the day in question the fog had rolled in thick as soup and I genuinely couldn’t see a single thing in front of my own nose. We hung about at Queen’s View for several minutes hoping for a break in the murk, and happily it did clear a touch eventually, just enough for me to make out the rooftops of Zomba laid out down below, with Chipi obligingly pointing out a few of the more notable buildings as the cloud drifted past.
🏃 The Long Walk Down
We then began our descent, this time following a different set of narrower, more rugged trails than the ones we’d come up by, weaving between rocky outcrops and clumps of bracken. It being the start of the local spring, the whole mountainside was alive with wildflowers in full bloom and busy pollinating insects going about their business in the warm late-morning sun, bees and butterflies darting between the blooms in a way that made the whole scene feel almost impossibly idyllic, and I’d happily have lingered longer over all that natural splendour had my glutes and quad muscles not been screaming blue murder the entire way down the steep, rocky path, which in places was little more than loose stone underfoot, the sort of surface that tests your ankles every bit as much as your knees. By the time we finally reached the bottom of the trail my legs had gone properly to jelly, the sort of trembling exhaustion that gave me a moment to reflect ruefully on the fact that only a few years earlier I’d been fit enough to run half-marathon trail races and even tackle Olympic-distance triathlons without batting an eyelid, back when my knees still did roughly what I asked of them. How the mighty fall, eh, as the years roll relentlessly on. Thankfully it was now lunchtime, and we found ourselves a decent bench by the reservoir to rest our weary legs, though before I was allowed so much as a bite of sandwich, Chipi insisted on taking me to see a concrete shelter the government had put up some years back, decorated inside with rather earnest hand-painted murals meant to educate the local population on the various dangers of deforestation. A case of too little, far too late, if you ask my honest opinion on the matter, but there it is, that’s bureaucracy the world over for you, all good intentions and precious little follow-through where it actually counts. Now thoroughly schooled in matters of conservation whether I’d asked for the lesson or not, I sat myself down at the picnic table at last and opened up the packed lunch, which turned out to be two enormous doorstep sandwiches stuffed generously with roasted vegetables and a rather good butternut squash hummus, all courtesy of the lodge staff back at Zomba Forest Lodge. Absolutely delicious, every last crumb of it, and very welcome after all that exertion. Feeling considerably more human after eating, I followed Chipi back across the dam wall and into the woods on the long route back towards the Sunbird Lodge where we’d left the car earlier that morning. Along that particular stretch of trail we passed a handful of rather charming private cottages dotted among the trees, including one rather grandly named the American Embassy Cottage, which I can only assume serves as some sort of weekend bolthole for embassy staff escaping the heat and bustle of the capital city. We eventually made it back to the car after what felt like a proper marathon of a day on our feet, every muscle aching in places I’d quite forgotten I had, and I was, as our Australian friends would cheerfully put it, thoroughly tuckered out by the whole business. I said my goodbyes to Chipi, tipped him generously for his trouble and his good company along the way, and headed back to the lodge, where I found Karen out in the garden looking a good deal brighter than she had that morning, and just finishing off a rather tasty calzone for her own lunch. After all that, it was high time indeed for a properly restorative cup of tea and a quiet afternoon doing absolutely nothing much at all, which after a hike like that felt thoroughly well earned by both of us, and frankly we’d more than earned the right to put our feet up for the rest of the day without a flicker of guilt.
🌅 An Evening with Petal and a Second Sundowner
That evening we finally got to meet our co-host Petal, who turned out to be every bit as delightful and sharp as Tom had promised us during our earlier conversations. We decided between us to head back up to the viewpoint to try our luck photographing the sunset properly this time, and happily the skies were a good deal clearer than they’d been the previous evening, with barely a cloud to spoil the view across the valley. We brought our sundowners along for the occasion as is now firmly our habit on this trip, this time a gin infused with blackcurrant that we’d picked up along the way, along with my tripod, which was finally getting its very first proper outing of the entire journey so far, having sat unused in its bag for weeks.
Once the sun had properly gone down we headed back to the lodge for dinner, where the conversation rambled on enjoyably about absolutely everything under the sun, the way only good travel conversations with new acquaintances ever really seem to do. Petal joined us at the table for the discussion, and between the three of us we talked well past any sensible sort of bedtime, the way you do when the company’s good, the candles are flickering, and there’s no Wi-Fi to drag your attention off elsewhere. Petal and Tom, it turns out, are properly active members of the wider local community on top of running the lodge itself day to day, and they’re particularly committed to doing something practical about the deforestation crisis we’d seen with our own eyes earlier that very afternoon up on the mountain. Between them they run a small organisation called Treez, which works specifically to educate local people on the long-term consequences of cutting down the forest at the rate they currently are, hoping to plant the seeds, quite literally as well as figuratively, of a different approach for the generation coming up behind them.
The food that evening was once again thoroughly impressive, every bit as good as everything we’d eaten so far at the lodge, and the kitchen had gone to the trouble of putting together a thoroughly delicious vegan menu specially for the two of us, finishing with a dessert that was, frankly, entirely to die for – a rich, dense chocolate torte sitting on a layer of tangy rhubarb compote underneath, the sort of pudding you remember for weeks afterwards. We went to bed that night very contentedly stuffed indeed, hardly able to move.
Planning Your Visit to Zomba
🌍 Location
Zomba Forest covers the upper reaches of the Zomba Plateau in the Shire Highlands of southern Malawi, rising sharply above the old colonial town of Zomba. The plateau climbs to over 2,000 metres, its sheer edges dropping away dramatically into the valley below. Up top, dense stands of cedar, pine and cypress are criss-crossed by streams, waterfalls and quiet dams, creating a cool, green world that feels worlds away from the hot plains beneath it. The British colonial administration once retreated here to escape the lowland heat, and the historic Ku Chawe Inn still stands at the edge of the plateau as a reminder of that era.
🚗 Getting there
Zomba town sits on the M1 highway, roughly three hours from Blantyre and around four and a half hours from Lilongwe. Daily buses and minibuses run along both routes, with the Blantyre journey taking about an hour by bus and the Lilongwe journey taking considerably longer, often five to seven hours.
From the town, a well-surfaced tarmac road climbs up to the plateau, a drive of around thirty minutes. Self-drive visitors can hire a saloon or 4×4 from one of the local car hire firms in town, though it’s worth knowing that police checkpoints are frequent along Malawian roads, and you may be asked to show your driving licence more than once during a journey.
If you don’t have your own transport, taxis wait at the bottom of the hill and can usually be haggled down to a reasonable fare for the trip up to Ku Chawe Inn. Motorbike taxis are a cheaper, if bumpier and riskier, alternative. For the more energetic, the climb on foot is a real option too — a guided hike to the top typically takes around six hours, following forest paths rather than the road.
🥾 Getting around
Once up on the plateau, the forest opens out into a network of trails and forestry roads that can be tackled on foot, by mountain bike or by car. The road surfaces are generally decent, though grass can grow up and obscure the route in places, and conditions shift a little with the seasons and forestry work.
Walking is by far the best way to experience the forest properly. Routes range from short, easy ambles to half-day treks, taking in dams, waterfalls and viewpoints along the way. A favourite stretch runs from Mulunguzi Dam down past Mandala Falls to the old Trout Farm, a gentle 35-minute walk beside the stream through untouched forest, continuing on to Williams Falls in a similar amount of time. For wider panoramas, a moderate climb up to the Nawimbe Fire Tower leads onto a pleasant ridge walk towards the Mlumbe Radio Masts.
Hiring a local guide, easily arranged through the Forestry Office in town, is well worth doing for longer walks. They know the trails intimately, can point out wildlife and medicinal plants along the way, and their fees support both the local economy and ongoing conservation work.
Beyond walking, mountain biking is popular on the woodland paths down to the streams and waterfalls, where a spot of trout fishing is also possible. Horse riding is another option, with guided rides through the pine forests and open grassland suited to complete beginners and experienced riders alike.
One practical tip worth bearing in mind: during the wetter months, leeches turn up on the forest trails, so tucking trousers into socks and applying a little insect repellent around the ankles is a sensible precaution.
The Best Time to Visit Malawi
🌤️ Cool and Dry Season (May to August)
This is the most pleasant time to visit Malawi, with sunny days, clear skies and little to no rain. The landscape stays green into May before drying out, and evenings turn properly cold, especially in the highlands and on the Nyika Plateau, where frost is possible. Game viewing improves steadily from June onwards as animals begin gathering near water.
What to pack: layered clothing for warm days and cold nights, a warm fleece or jacket for early morning game drives, a hat and gloves for Nyika, comfortable walking shoes, sun protection and a torch for chilly evenings.
☀️ Hot and Dry Season (September to October)
The bush is now fully dried out and vegetation is thin, making this the best period for spotting wildlife as animals cluster around permanent water sources. October is the hottest and most dramatic month for safaris, right before the rains return. This is also high season, so popular parks are busier and rates rise.
What to pack: lightweight, breathable clothing in neutral colours, a wide-brimmed hat, strong sun cream, plenty of water, sunglasses and a light layer for cool early mornings.
🌧️ Hot and Wet Season (November to March)
Heavy rain, humidity and dramatic thunderstorms define this season, with the heaviest downpours from December to February. Many lakeshore lodges close, and roads can flood, making travel harder. On the upside, the landscape turns lush and vivid, and this is the best period for birdwatching, with many migrant species present.
What to pack: a waterproof jacket and dry bag, quick-drying clothing, sturdy waterproof footwear, insect repellent, a power bank for possible outages and a flexible itinerary.
🌿 Shoulder Season (April)
April bridges the rains and the dry season. Storms ease, temperatures stabilise, and lake lodges begin reopening after the wet months. The scenery is at its greenest and most vibrant, crowds are thinner, and accommodation deals are often easy to find.
What to pack: a light rain jacket, breathable daywear, a warmer layer for evenings, comfortable walking shoes for damp trails and a camera for the lush scenery.
Overall Best Time to Visit
Taking everything into account, May to October is the overall best time to visit Malawi, offering dry weather, comfortable temperatures and strong wildlife viewing throughout. Within that window, July and August are the most reliable months, combining mild conditions, minimal rain and easy road access. Those chasing peak safari drama should aim for September or October, while travellers wanting greener scenery, fewer crowds and better value should consider April or May. Whatever the season, Malawi offers something distinctive, from dramatic storms and blooming orchids in the wet months to clear lake waters and thriving wildlife in the dry ones.
Malawi – Month-by-Month
Visiting Malawi December to March
These are the wettest months, characterized by torrential downpours in the afternoon. Afternoon temperatures are around 29°C/84°F and the humidity is high.
Visiting Malawi in April
Rain is dwindling and so are the temperatures. Daytime temperatures still reach 27°C/81°F but evenings and early mornings can be chilly.
Visiting Malawi in May
This is the end of summer and the rain has stopped. Temperatures are relatively cool, typically 16°C/61°F in the morning and 26°C/79°F in the afternoon. Nighttime temperatures start to drop.
Visiting Malawi in June – August
The average morning temperature is 14°C/57°F. Bring warm clothing for the cold morning game drives in open vehicles. Afternoons will be more pleasant, with temperatures around 25°C/77°F. Nyika Plateau with its high altitude is much colder.
Visiting Malawi in September & October
he heat gradually builds, and the first rains bring relief from very dry conditions. Daytime temperatures will be around 29°C/84°F in September and 31°C/88°F in October, the latter being the hottest month. Peak temperatures can be much higher.
Visiting Malawi in November
This month is unpredictable – the rain starts in the afternoons. Temperatures are between 20°C/68°F in the morning and 31°C/88°F in the afternoon.
Zomba Forest Lodge
I had researched where to stay during our visit to Zomba, and quickly decided I liked the sound of Zomba Forest Lodge, which describes itself as a ‘home away from home’ – and this turned out to be just the case!
We’d got some decent directions sent to us, and the GPS seemed to be taking us in the right direction for once. The road climbs steeply from Zomba, with several sharp turns along the way. Eventually, the tarmacked road ran out and we found ourselves on a narrow gnarly gravel road with steep drop-offs to the side. Karen was nervous, to say the least, and she was on the side with the precipitous drops. After, a few kilometres we reached the Zomba Forest Lodge, where we were greeted by the owner’s dogs Samson and Loki. The owners of the Lodge are Tom, who hails from Northampton and Southampton, and Petal (who was away tending a friend’s restaurant in town). Tom was very friendly and welcoming and after a brief introduction to the lodge, we were given lunch in the garden.
Zomba Forest Lodge is totally off-grid. There is no electricity or Wi-Fi. So, when night falls you have to rely on candles and solar-powered lamps – very romantic! We were the only people staying in the lodge for the first night, so we had a very personal dinner service. The food was once again perfect, roasted veggies, cuscus, butternut squash and meatless meatball (falafel!). Tom, Petal and their amazing staff cater for everyone’s dietary idiosyncracies.
The nights can get chilly here up in the mountains, so they will often light a cosy fire in the main room so you can sit around and enjoy the homely settings. After, several weeks on the road in safari lodges it was a most welcome change!
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