Overlanding Madagascar’s RN5 at the Monsoon’s End: A Photo Story

This was our third time on Madagascar’s RN5, and our second shot at doing it in April. Last year, the weather chewed up our plans. We had to ditch the road halfway, switch to boats, and fly out three days early. Monsoons in Madagascar peak from January to March. So this time, we kicked off mid-April with more buffer, more grit, and a team that knew what they’d signed up for. The rain still showed up. But so did we.

The crew was a mix from all over—UK, Turkey, India, and Oman. Half were expedition vets who’d travelled with us before. The other half were first-timers, drawn to the promise of rough, remote, and real.

This is a Madagascar photo essay from the expedition that was: a 1,000+ km overlanding journey along the African country’s wild east coast. Highland forests, remote beaches, and some of the worst roads in the world.

Stillness Ahead of the Struggle

The part before the RN5 was a trailer of sorts. There was anticipation, and a bit of trepidation. A national park. The wild wildlife of Madagascar. First glimpses of the Indian Ocean. And time for travellers to get familiar with the machines—ones that would carry them through the rickety chaos ahead.

These weren’t standard 4x4s. Fully kitted with rooftop tents and built-in gear, they were built to be home, shelter, and escape for what was coming: four days of remote camping on one of the worst roads in the world.

We spent two days at Andasibe National Park—easing in, but not really. Even lunch came with the presence of wildlife. Reptiles, insects, and trees that look like they were designed on another planet. Madagascar wasn’t waiting to get strange.

We hiked into the jungle chasing sharp, eerie calls. The lemurs stayed out of sight, reminding us that this wasn’t a zoo, it was their turf. 

We did find them later in a conservation area, bouncing through the trees like they owned the place. They kind of do.

Day three was the longest of the expedition in distance: 320 kilometers of slow, dusty battle on RN2. Trucks packed the road, potholes everywhere, and some stretches had no tarmac at all. Patience wore thin, but still, spirits stayed high. The RN5 was closing in.

12 hours in, day four ended at a beachside lodge in Mahambo. The brutal roads behind us sparked stories over dinner. When we mentioned that the RN5 was going to be tougher, disbelief lingered. They were about to live the truth.

What We Came For Starts Here.

The RN5 stretch was a study in contrasts. Early on, better roads and fewer pontoon crossings made for easier miles than expected. But just when it seemed the challenge was easing up, the route reminded us it wasn’t done yet. Unexpected storms hit hard on the very first night of remote camping on the RN5, turning tents into battle zones and sparking stories that would carry the team through what lay ahead.

“The rains actually played in our favour,” says Venky, founder of Nomadic Road, who was there himself, hinting at how the weather “balanced out” the better roads. We’re suckers for challenges out here.

There were obvious mechanical issues along the way, but also some unexpected ones. The team adapted fast, and despite losing a vehicle, everything eventually came together.

Between it all, there was plenty of room for celebration.

The RN5 in photographs:

Not the RN5 we remembered. Just months ago, this stretch chewed up tyres and tested patience. Now, it's slick with fresh tarmac, laid down as part of recent development in the region. We weren't sure whether to celebrate or worry what was coming next.

A dream setup to end the day: rooftop tents by the sea, ocean dips at sunset, and a moonrise straight out of a film. But by midnight, things took a turn, with a storm taking over. Winds tore through the camp, and tents tried to fly. By dawn, everyone had a storm story to tell.

Until this point, many wondered if the RN5 had gone soft. But the rains had other plans. By day five of the expedition, the route began living up to its reputation. Water filled every dip and depression, some puddles nearly reaching the windows. At one point, drivers swore they were floating, unsure if their wheels were even touching the ground.

The thrill was real. This was the RN5 everyone had come for.

After the long, demanding day on the RN5, everyone was mentally prepping to pitch tents. But our team had a quiet surprise waiting: a simple lodge in Antanambe. They were exuberant! Some headed straight to the ocean, some went fishing with local fishermen, while the rest took it slow. Well earned.

The RN5 is the only route we tackle with pontoon crossings, and they’re a wild part of any Madagascar trip. Often, only two or three vehicles can go at a time, so the waiting (and the stories) are inevitable. 

On Easter Sunday, we found the pontoon empty, since everyone was at church. But eventually, we were able to gather some locals from the village who’d run it for us.

The pontoon crossings are often where you meet the heart of Madagascar and its incredible people.

It was day six of the expedition, the third on the RN5, and we were crawling inch by inch. One vehicle had already lost its 4WD. Then another gave up: a burnt-out clutch. Towing wasn’t worth the risk, so we left it with the mechanic team. Clients moved ahead in a backup car. The rest of us pushed on, hoping they’d catch up. They did, late that night.

With no way of knowing what lay ahead (and underneath), the Nomadic Road pilot car took the lead, testing water depth, dodging hidden rocks, and radioing back what to avoid.

Meet Tojo, one of Madagascar’s most awarded local specialists—the kind of person who quietly keeps everything flowing. Fixing vehicles, lifting spirits when the road got tough, or slicing fresh Madagascar coconuts just when you didn’t even know you needed one.

Day seven on the Madagascar trip came with new terrain: clay, rock, and long stretches along the ocean. The road still demanded focus, but it moved differently.

Somewhere along the way, the terrain softened. For a moment, it felt like we were driving through a dream. Velvet grass, coconut trees, and silence thick enough to hear your tyres.

This was our final night remote camping on the RN5. The kitchen crew went all out: they strung lights through the bushes, set a table, and prepared a feast. Along the route, they picked up whatever the local villages had to offer. Cassava and jackfruit. Fresh fish and chicken. It was a Malagasy spread, accompanied by music and frenzied dancing.

The Final Push Forward

By day eight, we were close to the end, but the RN5 wasn’t ready to let us go just yet.

At a narrow wooden bridge, weakened planks gave way under one of the vehicles. Half the car slipped through, hanging in the air. It was the kind of moment that stops everything.

The team pulled together, slowly and carefully hauling the vehicle back onto solid ground. Then came the challenge of getting the rest of the convoy across without incident.

By mid-afternoon, we made it to Maroantsetra. Solid roads returned. So did mobile signal, steady electricity, and the kinds of comforts that feel oddly jarring after days of grit. Just like that, the bubble we’d been living in began to fade.

“For me, it was emotional,” said Venky. “One of the most interesting and diverse groups we’ve had. The conversations, the way they came together… this was a special one for Nomadic Road.”

November will see us back on the road in Madagascar, heading south for an exciting new chapter.