October - Fossa mating month and the end of circumcision season in Madagascar!

Fifteen of us meet for a briefing and welcome dinner. First come the introductions: a few ex-teachers, three Aussies, two South Africans, a Swiss guy and nine Brits. It seems like a good mix, and we enjoy getting to know each other.

Less positive is the news that our charter flight to the coast tomorrow morning has been cancelled because the plane needs some "engineering work". This means another day in Tana and the loss of a free beach day later in the tour so that we can catch up with the itinerary.

On the plus side, it gives Brian's bag, currently residing at Nairobi Airport, a chance to catch up with him. To be fair, he's done an impressive job of re-equipping himself from the local market. What none of us realise at this point is that the flight delay will have a knock-on effect on hotel rooms later in the trip.

Check-in for the flight to Morondava is smooth, especially for the five lucky souls who get upgraded to business class. Rod leaves his wife Chrissie behind as he heads off to the business-class lounge with all the money.

The views from the flight are quite shocking. You can clearly see a country ravaged by deforestation, with hardly any trees left in what was once a very green landscape.

On arrival, we split into five jeeps. Sheila, Ian and I jump into Jeep No. 3. It's a chance grouping, but it turns out to be the dream team. We get on brilliantly, and, crucially, avoid Jeep 4, whose occupants spend most journeys singing, and Jeep 1, whose members proudly announce that they specialise in smutty jokes and double entendres.

When someone asks Ian what characterises Jeep 3, he replies: "Quiet. We know when to speak and when not to."

Jeeps 2 and 5 remain a mystery.

The next two days bring lemurs galore: ring-tailed, sifaka, mouse, brown and spotted, with plenty of babies clinging to their mothers' backs. Watching the sifakas leap effortlessly through the trees is an absolute delight.

In Kirindy Forest we also spot a fossa. It turns out that October is fossa mating season and, apparently, they usually conduct their romantic business high up in the trees. This particular specimen appears to have already finished and was cooling off beneath a bungalow near the forest office.

The birds are spectacular too, and the birders in the group are beside themselves with excitement over some rare sightings, including the sickle-billed vanga, Madagascan paradise flycatcher and white-breasted mesite.

But the days also bring our first experience of Madagascan roads. Calling them roads feels generous; they're really just dirt tracks. It's more off-roading than driving.

Tuesday is particularly brutal. We are bounced around for hours on end. Sleeping is impossible because you spend most of the journey hanging on for dear life. As Ian observes, he had fallen asleep about a hundred times, only to be woken up a hundred times a few seconds later.

We start at 5am and finally arrive at our hotel at 7pm.

The journey includes two vehicle ferries, lunch at Mad Zebu, a Michelin-starred restaurant, and all of us coming close to a collective meltdown when we discover there aren't enough rooms at the hotel.

It's dark, hot, and we're filthy by the time we arrive. To make matters worse, we have to decide who is sharing with whom because our twin rooms aren't available.

Annabel, our guide, ends up sharing with Sheila and me. Annabel and I get the bunk beds in what is essentially the corridor of our chalet, although "chalet" is perhaps a rather generous description.

Still, these things always look better in the morning. This is Africa, after all; things don't always go to plan. Besides, we're travelling in luxury compared with some of the abject poverty we've witnessed along the way.

This morning, however, has been perfect.

We take a river trip in a pirogue to visit some caves, followed by a walk through Little Tsingy, which is a geological marvel. Then it's back in time for a lazy afternoon beside the perfect pool before heading out on a night walk in search of chameleons.

And I have to mention the Avenue of the Baobabs. We visited at sunset and it was absolutely stunning. The trees are incredibly striking, standing like giant sentinels against the evening sky. It's one of those places that genuinely lives up to the photographs.

So, I suppose I've made you wait long enough for the circumcision story.

In Madagascar, all boys must be circumcised. This usually takes place between the ages of two and five, sometime between July and October. If they aren't circumcised, they are not considered men and cannot be buried in the family tomb.

As is often the case here, traditions vary depending on whether you're in the north, south or central highlands. According to two different guides, in the north the removed foreskin is placed on the end of a banana, which the grandparents are then expected to eat. Even our guide thought this was odd. He was from the south and assured us they simply throw it into the river.

And finally, what's next?

Groundhog Day.

We have to drive all the way back to Morondava, which means at least another 12 hours in the jeep.

Wish us luck. 🚙💨