CHAPTER 31 - OVERLAND TRIP, VIC FALLS TO CAPE TOWN

 

* this file HAS been spell checked BUT not re-read or finished

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Exchange rate 4.25 Botswana pula to US$1 ( 1 pulax = 100 thebe)

Exchange rate 6.0 Namibian dollar to US$1

Exchange rate 6.0 South African rand to US$1

 

Th 10/28/99 - Nata, Botswana

 

We boarded the large yellow Isuzu overland truck with out driver Roy (44), coordinator Claire (30, nursing and geography major) and the clients - Robyn, Logan from Auckland (26, doctor studying surgery), Rick (26, general practitioner volunteering in Bulawayo and Binga, Zimbabwe) and Maryke from Holland (24, psychologist), and the fit, young blonde Randy from Washington, D.C. (28, just starting law practice, marathoner).

 

The bright yellow custom truck was fitting with a Mercedes turbo diesel, a simple 21 seat cabin for clients, and a large storage area in the stern with double doors holding backpacks, camp equipment, and food. Inside the cabin is a semi-functioning freezer, one speaker of a presumably stereo sound system shared with the cab and controlled by Roy, and a hot line from the cabin to cockpit. We were fortunate to be aboard with only six clients because we would have ample space to stetch out in the baking heat - neither cab or cabin has air conditioning.

 

The total length of trip in eighteen days of driving is approximately 4000 kilometers (2500 miles), leaving Victoria Falls (Zimbabwe), passing through Botswana and Namibia, ending in Cape Town (South Africa).

 

We soon drove into a scorched landscape of soft sand dispersed amongst scrub trees, stopping for a leg stretch beside a gemsbok carcass. I took the opportunity to snap Blacky there and so he was quickly introduced to the overland group.

 

Within a couple of hours of leaving Victoria Falls we were at the border and into Botswana! Just beyond the post was a sign reading, "Ngwasha Gate Veterinary disease Control Cordoon" where we were asked to disembark and wipe our feet on a insecticide soaked mat. The truck drove through a trough of dip.

 

The landscape continued as dry and bleak with hearty but withered shrub. We passed through a herd of forty elephant and Roy slowed so we had a better look. Just after noontime we stopped on the side of the long desolate road for lunch under a popular shade tree. Flies buzzed and terrorized us all while we tried to hurriedly munch processed meat sandwiches with cheese, lettuce, and tomato.

 

Mid-afternoon we reached Nata, a barren place that should be pronounced "Nada" for there was nothing in Nata, just a refueling stop with a few plain lodges surrounded by endless gray dust and dry bush.

 

As soon as the tents were erected we all made our way to the swimming pool, a lima bean shaped shallow concrete basin with cloudy water. I stared at floaties before I jumped in - a variety of insects and small leaves, hair - long and black, other hair - short, black, and curly - from where?! With my mouth closed tight, I tried to ignore the floaties and jumped into the surprisingly cool water. The heat was incredibly oppressive, but even so I was cool to a shiver when wet and in the slight breeze.

 

We were soon all at the pool and gabbing in small groups. I spoke at length to Logan about the America's Cup in Auckland, starting now and ending in March, and about my sailing adventure through the Indian Ocean for seven weeks, in particular the vastness of the ocean and Aldabra Island in the Seychelles.

 

Rick and I discussed passing Chobe National Park, known for a large variety of wildlife, and now sitting on the edge of the Makgadikgadi Pans, great dry salt pans more than 10,000 square kilometers in size. We would see neither and that was a pity. I tried to contain my frustration for this is the trip we signed up for - a quick spin through Botswana and Namibia. We were traveling a great distance over just eighteen days. The next trip to do in southern Africa will be in a white Toyota Landcruiser purchased and sold in Johannesburg.

 

I proposed a walk to a nearby baobab tree and all the clients joined in. I had received the suggestion and very simple directions from the Botswana woman at reception, as she pointed right she had said, "Just before the main road turn left", and with that we were soon lost. Well, not lost but we never found the tree. We did make our way to an interesting imposter tree which I climbed to search the area for our baobab and to scrap my arms and legs on. The group soon grew tired of my foray and returned to camp while Robyn and I searched a little more to find the mysterious baobab. We did se the tree, a big baobab with fresh green leaves well off the main road. Without a direct route we conceded defeat and returned also.

 

Roy cooked a decent stew in a huge old-fashioned cast iron pot called a potjie, maybe once used by Hanzel and Gretel's family. With rice the meal was enjoyable. The conversation during diner turned to bilharzia - most had swum in Lake Malawi or the Zambezi River - and Rick offered a timely visual of a bladder destroyed by the disease. He explained the bladder looked like sudza with a tuna fish texture.

 

Fr 10/29/99 - Maun, Botswana

 

Botswana (formerly Bechuanaland) is landlocked between Zimbabwe, Namibia, and South Africa. It consists mostly of arid tableland 1000m in altitude on average. The earliest people include San, Hottentots, and Bantu while more recently there has been an influence by Boers and British. Botswana is rich in diamonds and other minerals, one of the most affluent countries in Africa although the spread of wealth crosses classes poorly. With a population of about 1.4 million and land area of 600,000 square kilometers, the population density at 2.3 per square kilometer is one of the lowest. Highlights for tourists include the Okavango Delta, Kalahari Desert, and Chobe National Park.

 

A large door like panel is attached to the side of the truck and serves as a preparation and serving table. Claire heated water on one of three gas burners, laid out cereal, and toppings for toast. I wolfed nice oat cereal with milk, and toast with peanut butter and jam.

 

About 830am we began another long and monotonous drive through barren scenery of gray soil, dry grass, shrub, and tall funky gray anthills or termite mounds. When Roy slowly suddenly for cattle and goats conversing in the road, we would all jump to see what was ahead through the forward windows.

 

Robyn and I told stories last night from Delia and Mark Owen's, "Cry of the Kalahari" to the others around camp after dinner and when I offered to lend the book. Maryke and Rick fought to the rights. Before lending the book, I skimmed the pages for mention of stores and companies in Maun, hoping to find a trace of the Owne's Maun of twenty years ago when we arrive later today - Riley's Hotel and Provisioning Center, Ngariland Trading Center, Maun Wholesalers (Spiro's), Maun Butchery, Dirty George's Butchery, and Safari South.

 

I also looked for cute or otherwise interesting passages that the others may enjoy hearing.

 

61 - Title source

 

71-74 Star

 

180 - Lion's in camp

 

189-190 Bones and bubbles

 

224 Muffin and Moffet vs Satan

 

233 Lion's at play

 

246 Cold sleeping flycatchers

 

271 Pepper in kitchen

 

272 Sitting with Pepper

 

273 Pepper and Mark in bath

 

"By now, there were seven Mario flycatchers in camp including Marique, and on cold nights they all slept in a row, snuggled together on an acacia branch. the ones in the middle stayed warm and cozy, ut after a while, those on the end would get chilly. In what looked like a scene from Disney, the outsiders would jump up, their eyes still half closed, hop along the feathered backs of their buddies, and wiggle their way into the better-insulated enter spot Soon they would be fast asleep again. A little later, the birds at the end of the row would find themselves cold, and they would repeat the performance; and so this would continue all night long."

 

"It must have been the rustle of his feet in the grass that awakened me. I opened my eyes to find Bones standing a few feet away, spraying his acacia tree beside the gauze window of the tent... Then he padded down the footpath through camp. We followed in our bare feet as he smelled the flap of the dining tent and headed for the fireplace. Mox was washing dishes with his back to Bones when he strolled past the hyena table. Suddenly the lion's 450-poud bulk filled the kitchen.

 

I whistled softly. Mox looked over his shoulder, dropped a tin plate and towel back into the water, and shot around the reed wall into the bushes...

 

Bones went up to the utility table and took a large tin of powdered milk in his mouth. His canines punctured the can and a white plume shot past his nose. He sneezed, shook his head, and sneezed again. The water kettle was steaming on the fire grate, and when he touched the hot handle with his nose he jerked back. Then he walked down the path and into the reed bath boma. His tall backside filling the narrow entrance, he lifted his head to the wash table and found the pink plastic tub filled with the leftover water from my sponge bath. My arms had been smeared with grease when I washed the night before, and it had taken lots of powder detergent to get them clean. Bones began to drink the black, suds water, his muzzle filling the tub and his immense pink tongue lapping the water to froth. The more he drank, the more the water foamed, until white suds covered his nose. When he finally finished, he looked up, gave a deep sigh, and belched, blowing a large bubble that hung on the end of his nose. He sneezed again, the bubble exploded, and he shook the suds from his muzzle.

 

With one end of the tub jutting from his mouth like a great pink bill, he strutted out of camp. Chewing on the tub, he walked north along the riverbed, dropping bits and pieces of pink plastic from his mouth as he went. A long trek to North Tree, then east over the dunes, and he finally lay in tall butter-colored grasses, warming himself in the autumn sun, his mame and grass straw part of the same pattern."

 

We drove into Maun midday and it wasn't the quaint frontier town I had imagined but a large spread of standard concrete buildings in a huge bowl of dust and bush shacks beyond. There were sizable stores for groceries, clothing, and furniture as you would expect from a countries largest city, but beyond the necessities, Maun seemed to offer very little pleasant.

 

In passing through Maun I searched for businesses from "Cry of the Kalahari" and only found Riley's Hotel, now part of a major chain, and a red sign with white paint fronting a home and reading, "Lionel Palmer".

 

After arriving our camp at the Okavango River Lodge and Clair's accurate welcome announcement, "This is not a campsite, it's a dustbowl", we set up camp and drove back into Maun. Maun is separated into new and old towns. we stopped for a bureau de change in new town and while the others milled about I waked toward old town to find email and Roy drove Rick to a doctor to address a bad spreading infection in his elbow from a bite.

 

Between walking, a lift from Roy, and mass searching through the unbearably hot town, it took forty five minutes to find email at the Computer Store (10 pula/30 minutes), the only email in Man besides a hotel eight kilometers west.

 

After nearly one year on the road, I've enjoyed myself too much and have yet to tame my wanderlust, having a great eight months with John McKinney and now two months with Robyn. Since I am heading into a crunch for time once reaching Cape Town and bypassing so many wonderful sites on the overland trip, I sent an email to my brother John asking to assist in a three-month leave of absence extension from work via email.

 

Once reaching Cape Town I will join John McKinney and unknown others for five days on the Otter Trail, leaving six to seven weeks to tour South Africa and fly on pre-purchased tickets to Cairo, Zurich, ad London. That will be a crunch.

 

We spent the remainder of the afternoon poolside and after dinner in the bar at Roy's insistence. While the others played pool Robyn and I spoke to a drunk old local man who put down the Owen's, saying their written experiences are just the highlights during a long seven years, that they abused the hunters in the book, and that after all the millions they earned they should have put something back into the Kalahari. We ostly listened to the man repeating himself and didn't believe many points, but we were very interested in a locals viewpoint.

 

Sa 10/30/99 - Oddball's Camp, Okavango Delta, Botswana

 

* One year on the road *

 

By 8am the six clients and Claire (Roy stayed behind to watch rugby) were on board a British-Norman Islander (BN-2A) ten passenger twin engine plane from Maun to Delta Strip in the Okavango Delta on the edge of the western Moremi Game Reserve. The Moremi is the heart of the Delta and our only reason for choosing Which Way over Nomad despite cost. (We would later hear no other overland flys into the delta, but on the other hand Which Way bypasses Chobe National Park and the Skeleton Coast on their Victoria Falls to Cape Town tour.)

 

From the air, the landscape changed from sparse and wide dry to patches of dry and bright green punctuated by stands of trees. The green was the effect of the Delta and lines of water could be seen running through some of them.

 

We flew only 1500 ft above ground, elephant were easy to spot but smaller animals difficult. We landed on a dust dry strip of dirt, passed a family of warthogs, and rolled to a dusty stop beside a Cessna 182 and a group of waiting passengers.

 

A local guided us through bush for twenty minutes to Odd Ball's Camp, re-routing us around five elephants busy shaking and pulling down trees and past a small herd of red lechwe (antelope).

 

Oddball's has a great view over a delta channel with forest two hundred meters off. There we met Sharlot, and David who gave a colorful orientation of how to deal with the dangerous animals such as elephant, lion, leopard, and snakes. David was hung over and Sharlot stood behind him to show her claim and I wasn't surprised that during his spiel he focused on Randy, "Be careful of baboons, they're thieves, you wouldn't be happy when you see one with your get lucky knickers on his head..."

 

David led the six of us past pretty tree houses and shaded tents to three heavy canvas tents somewhat exposed to the sun but also with a sweeping view of the delta. I made myself comfortable by laying an air mattress in front of the open door and setting my waterbottle, camera, binoculars, and borrowed bird and mammal books within reach.

 

With the change of night habitant recently to tents sleep has been tough, and so I was soon semi-asleep on my back with my head near the open door and with visuals of my face inside the jaws of lion and leopard.

 

When I fully awoke at 1230pm, very conscious of my stomach turning, I rolled over to find an old bull elephant fifty meters away and eight others moving across our view left to right behind him. I jumped up and saw Rick and Maryke also watching the pachyderms from their tent next door. Rick went on to say I slept through a hyena stocking a reedbok through the tall grass, the reedbok leaping and whistling in alarm, and living through the chase. He also saw a leopard across the delta laying on a tree branch.

 

After lunch the group spent the first half of afternoon on the viewing deck in front of the restaurant and bar. Binoculars were out, watching elephant, giraffe, impala, crocodiles, and many birds. Robyn and I tried to identify the common birds around the veranda with the Newman's bird book. A rough board suspended from a tree limb with tweety offerings helped with observation. Common were glossy starling, blackcollared barbet, lesser masked weaver, paradise flycatcher, and in the distance white faced duck and egrets.

 

Just before 4pm, Robyn, Maryk, Rick, Logan, and I went for a disappointing US$5, one hour walk along the island shore and inland. I was looking forward to two hours and seeing the land changing under the lowering sun, so I was disappointed. Our guide stop to explain different plants, but there were little quantity of animals, the most exciting kudu buck with the long twisting horns within ten meters of us. On our wildlife walk I only took photos of a single file precession of local women with umbrellas and head balanced packages.

 

For a pleasant change our crew didn't cook dinner, instead we all ate with others on the viewpoint restaurant. We ate by pork chops, potatoes, mixed vegetables, and bread rolls by lantern light with the sounds of the bush echoing across the marsh. Rick was the first to command a captain's chair and I quickly followed hoping to get just that much closer to the noise, others then followed. Torches and the camps large spotlight came out to search the darkness. Twice Rick and I investigated a shining eye close by in the water only to find our menacing eye was a reflected star. In the trees above Claire excitedly said she could she eyes, but she embarrassing repealed and said it was only stars. About forty meters out many pairs of pink eyes glowed by Rick's torch, and when the heavy duty torch lit the scene, hundreds of buffalo were there not far away. They moved slowly, splashing through water and grazing on the green tall grasses.

 

David escorted us to our tents, Randy was especially interested. After passing our tent David quickly returned to say a buffalo stood on the other side of a large ant hill beside our tent. I would have brushed my teeth and swallowed the paste from inside the tent, but Robyn wasn't as fazed and so I scraped a little macho from under my belt and hung with her on the veranda to finish pre-bed chores.

 

Su 10/31/99 - Bush Camp on Chief's Island, Okavango Delta, Botswana

 

* Halloween*

 

In the early morning I walked across camp to the shower block and chose one with a three quarter wall with a view into the delta. Baboons were screaming loadly nearby and this raucous wild noise was sustained for about a minute, and I was alarmed but thought, "Probably nothing too exciting, just baboons fighting". Later at breakfast the topic was this crazy noise and David explained that he heard baboons on one side of camp alerting others and with the raucous at the other end, assumed a leopard took a baboon.

 

Mokoros are local dugout canoes made from sausage trees, ours took our poler, T.K., three months to carve with a hand axe. Together we had three mokoros with three guides poling, including David and Jeremiah, and a mass of camp equipment stored on board. Claire would stay behind at Oddball's. As part of our Okavango trip, we were to spend one night in the bush nearby, traveling by mokoro.

 

To travel by mokoro and especially into the heart of the Okavango Delta, the Moremi Game Reserve, is exactly what visiting this area is about. We sat low in the dugouts and the polers moved us silently along the clear swamp waters amongst lilies and pads. Birds flitted about - African jacana, pied kingfisher, cormorant, and king fisher. T. K. pointed out the birds, plants, and talked about the Okavango River, panhandle, and delta. From our low lounging perspective we saw the delta water pass close by, the waterspiders, frog eggs, and colorful green and red vegetation underneath. I relaxed with my heels hanging over the mokoro's front edge, then brought them in for fear of crocodiles. We didn't see crocs or hippopotamus before reaching our bush camp after an hour and a half on the water, but they were certainly there, and our guides were wary of them.

 

Camp was set up in the shade under a sausage tree and a couple of others, with a view over the green marshland and hard land beyond. The principle island in the Moremi is Chief's Island, a sizeable piece of land with delta attributary running through it. Our camp was marked with a buffalo and two impala skulls, and we joked about using these for a bush Halloween party at night. Elephants dotted the land across the channel that wound through the marshgrass, egrets poked their long white necks amongst the grass and lilies while starlings curiously poked about the camp.

 

After setting up six tents, making a fire for tea, and arranging the camp chairs, we sat about talking and scanning the delta for animals. A couple of kilometers away was Delta Camp and Delta Strip, an airplane lifted off and banked hard and low for Maun, a mokoro passed silently by with two clients, obviously heading for the more expensive Delta Camp, for they wore neatly pressed and coordinated safari khakis head to toe.

 

After two hours of sitting David offered to show a hippo pool nearby and we all jumped up quickly for a walk. We crunched over dry leaves and grass, around long dead huge trees, and side stepped recent elephant and buffalo droppings. With the hippo pool behind trees and just out of sight from us, we were spotted by eight huge beasts that suddenly ran for safety in the water, creating incredibly loud crashing noises, like eight cars being driven into the delta at once. The sound was very impressive and to add to their fury, all the hippo turned with noses, small floppy ears, and eyes just above the surface, peering at the human invaders. The power demonstration was more than impressive.

 

We had wandered into the vacant Xaxaba Camp. Three government boats were filled with leaves and idled by the low water, the buildings were dusty and obviously not being used. Set for show were different skulls - antelope, two hippo, and one elephant. David pointed to a fiberglass mokoro split in two by a hippo with large teeth marks punctures. He explained the poler was hurt but the clients were unharmed.

 

Imagine this - a land without peanut butter and jelly sandwiches! But true, BPJ is an American only thing. After our sad lunch of egg, tomato, cucumber, and cheese sandwiches, Randy and I then tried to turn the others onto peanut butter and jelly sandwiches - we had mixed results.

 

We were resting at the camp, I had just risen from a nap and was sitting on a camp chair near the others, then all hell broke lose. There was massive noise and commotion and confusion - and the havoc quickly flew through camp. The craziness occurred so quickly it proved that a man's speed and reaction is far outpaced by the African wildlife. We stood dumb and tried to comprehend what happened, later we laughed. A minute earlier Rick had asked if I saw the warthogs bouncing past - they moved into an open area near the channel behind us. The two warthogs and a wildebeest then were chased by two lioness - the warthogs tore through camp and the wildebeest crashed through the bush beside the tents, all three scared for their lives and raising dust and noise along the way. The raucous was tremendous. The lioness stopped before camp. At the urging of our guides we ran toward the lions and viewed them from a termite mound, our first sight of them was as they slinked away further into the open. They moved further into an open grassy area then sat atop a small kopi, panting hard from the mid-afternoon attack.

 

The lions laid on the kopi for an hour. When T.K. offered the lionesses as an option for our game walk we eagerly agreed and set off towards them. But even with the large distance the lionesses saw us and when their view was obstructed, we lost them. But even so, we were on edge from the camp terror and now on the prowl for the dangerous African cats. The six of us walked quietly between T.K. and Daniel in single file - quietly to prevent disrupting anymore wildlife and single filed to minimize exposure to snakes.

 

We never saw the lions again today and our edginess slowly subsided. We spotted a few animals and made frequent stops when Randy had a question about scat or plants. We soon kindly objected to stopping in the very hot sun and suggested only asking questions in shade. Through a large clearing we walked slowly between a small herd of fifty wildebeest and a dozen burchell's zebra. The zebra were the more nervous of the two, but the whole herd moved only slightly to allow us through. In the bush to the far right were giraffe. T. K. was great at walking and talking slowly and explaining the details of Okavango life.

 

Our walk was great. Before returning to camp we again visited the hippo pool. Robyn picked up a leg bone from an elephant that looked like a huge dog bone, so heavy she could hardly handle it. She posed on the boat dock near the hippo with the low sun shining in her face and lighting her froppy hat, creating a goofy but cute picture for her dad.

 

We walked along the delta edge, on wet soil and through long green grass. The sun was bright and low to the horizon behind and lit the expanse to our right very warmly. We passed another enormous gray termite mound, across the grass and reeds and channel, on the far bank were elephants, moving slowly between trees to pull down leaves. One meter tall spurwinged goose sat in and below a tree also on the far side. The scene and remote feeling of the Okavango Delta was one to cherish.

 

Randy is a very cute little blonde girl, but a bit too far nervous to be taken seriously in the delta. She came up with many memorable questions and statements and some I have to quote. Maybe her first was, in shear anxiousness, "You mean crocodiles can swim?! I thought they just sat on the shore and sunbathed." On our game walk she didn't allow our guides much respect. She asked about each animal related to her safety such as, "Are the hippos in the water or can they get us?", and, "What time does it get dark? Maybe we should be heading back now." Later, on the mokoro, "Daniel, are the crocodiles asleep at this time of day?". While walking through the camp at night she would sing "Ninety-nine bottles of bear on the wall" to scare away animals and while sleeping she always held her little camping knife in her hand, which of course made Logan nervous for a bad nightmare. Randy also held her knife at the ready for crocs and hippo while in the mokoro. When she departs the trip in Maun, we'll surely miss her.

 

Randy also seemed to sleep a lot. Today she was horizontal just after our walk and slept through dinner. (Bull's meatballs with gravy in a can, pasta, and canned mushrooms. Eck.) We sat in the dark by a fire for hours telling Africa stories and looking for and wondering about the life in front of us. We heard plenty but saw nothing besides a couple of pairs of glowing buffalo eyes in the distance. Randy walked groggily from her tent to brush her teeth nearby and came back to unconvincingly say, "There is something out there." Of course I didn't believe her, but our flashlights found a spotted hyena curiously checking out camp. Such luck!

 

Mo 11/1/99 - Oddball's Camp, Okavango Delta, Botswana

 

Had our tent door zipped properly, there wouldn't have been mosquitoes, and I would have slept better. Robyn was awake first, doing her lion yawns, and raising my consciousness. I walked behind our tent to pee, then continued around out camp to a termite mound set in the elbow of the main channel for a good view of the surrounding area. I scanned the marshland and treeline. Behind camp were four buffalo busy eating moist grass. I looked at the lion kopi from yesterday - empty, then across the delta from camp for elephant - also empty.

 

A bird somewhere nearby let out a very cute call like a high pitched rain stick, a "ta-ta-ta-ta" descending in tone. I listened and smiled and listened again and again, then searched the nearby birds with binoculars. He sat on a dead tree limb nearby and I was shocked that the sweet notes were made without any outward movements other than opening his beak a set amount, but I guess that's how birds work. I wasn't sure this was possible - what do I know about birds - but there it was. His beak opened and I heard "ta-ta-ta-ta", it closed, then opened, "ta-ta-ta-ta", without extravagant facial gestures, no pursing of lips, but it must be him. He sported a black coat on his back that wrapped around his face, chestnut on the underside, black beak, black eyes - I would never find this cute little guy in the bird books.

 

Our game walk started very soon afterward, at 630am, led by Jeremiah.. We walked to Lion Kopi and searched from there for the felines. Jeremiah sped walk through the bush and unlike yesterday's walk never stopped to observe and I wondered aloud of our goal. We walked double time to the wildebeest and zebra herd and finally the paced slowed. We climbed a termite mound for a better look of the hoofed animals, then moved back toward the bush. I was the last of the seven walking and as we neared another termite mound, excited whispers passed back, "lion!" Maybe the same two lioness as yesterday were ten meters away on the other side of the mound and quickly sleeked through the long grass away from us. We watched them disappear over a knoll of bush. Rick and I wanted to follow more than anything, Jeremiah spoiled the fun by saying that to follow was futile.

 

During this walk we spotted buffalo, zebra, impala, and hippos. The Okavango also has tsessbe, the fastest antelope and new to me. Also new are red lechwe, similar to puku, a small antelope that resides near water and also the sitatunga, another antelope. We would see many red lechwe.

 

A mokoro slowly pulled to shore and out stepped a fair and sunburnt couple from British Columbia. They were recently married, he a Vancouver native and she a Russian that lived in Lithuania, and came to Africa for honeymoon, climbing Kilimanjaro, visiting the Serrengetti, and then flying to Oddball's via Dar es Salaam, Gaborone, and Maun. I thought that was a good way to start a life together, seeing the two top African wilderness areas and climbing Africa's highest mountain.

 

The man asked me, "Since you've been traveling so long, did you hear who one the World Series?". Hey, that's a point - the baseball season came and went. He told me the Yankees swept the Braves, but shattering was the fact that France beat New Zealand in World Cup Rugby - that was real shocker. Add to it that the Springboks lost to Australia and we have a sad rugby weekend, especially if you are Logan and Roy. Of course Robyn was very excite d for both results.

 

Our overland group has been great, we get along very well, and the different personalities all add humor and interest to the group. We sat about the camp for hours, hesitating getting on with lunch that was to precede our mokoro ride back to Oddball's. Three or four nights would have been a far better experience and more proportional to the effort and cost to visit the Moremi.

 

We dismantled the tents, loaded the mokoros, said goodbye to the newlyweds, and enjoyed a quiet mokoro ride back to Oddball's. The method of safari travel is comfortable and unique, not to be missed, and a nice alternative to a truck. We lazily passed elephant, bok, and the areas most popular bird, the African jacana. The polers took the straightest line by using the main channel and secondary channels through the reeds as needed returning us within one hour.

 

We were happy to have our same tents again with an open view over the delta while Claire again enjoyed her US$150 per person per night chalet. While milling about the tents in the late afternoon we heard the crashing nearby of a large bull elephant, then watched him slowly make his way towards us. We alerted one another and quickly walked to the lounging area for dinner to avoid issue. The elephant walked further into camp and became an attraction during dinner, a nice proper affair by lantern light.

 

Odd Ball's agent:

 

Okavango Tours and Safaris

 

P O Box 3666

 

Rivonia (Corner Rivonia Blvd and 4th Avenue)

 

2128

 

27-11-803-4464

 

okavango@icon.co.za

 

Cape Town 27-21-855-0931 okavangocpt@@icon.co.za

 

Maun 267-660220 okavango@info.bw

 

Tu 11/2/99 - Rundu, Namibia

 

Elephants were in fine view during our morning showers. Afterward I gathered Claire and the clients together to simulate a group showering photograph with the elephants very close to the shower views. A British couple assisted as photographers, handling seven cameras for us, and appearing just a little overburdened as we held our smiles.

 

We packed and walked assisted by one guide to the runway twenty minutes away, talking and joking the while. The runway is just a dirt strip and someone took the mickey of it by places signs reading, "International Transit Lounge" and "No elephants allowed". We flew the same British-Norman Islander (BN-2A) ten-passenger twin engine plane with the same pilot. This time I chose a seat with western views for the sun and sat quietly to gaze below at the wet bright green grass, dry yellow grass, trees, and a few elephants. From our height the scene below felt like a miniature golf course, dark lines plodded across the land, the paths of animals.

 

We touched down. Again the airport was very quiet. Roy was waiting outside and to our shock he sported a brush haircut, a vast improvement over the scaggily mop before. Our bet was that he lost a bet with the rugby, but he was only following fashion. Unfortunately, we said goodbye to Randy who had supplied fifty percent of our entertainment value thus far. She was on her way home via Gaborone, Johannesburg, and New York.

 

We drove into Maun. Rick's infected arm hadn't healed but had become worse. Both Rick and Logan agreed that the antibiotics Rick received were incorrect and now they persisted in asking for the correct prescription.

 

The itinerary had us stopping just over the Mohembo borber at a remote campsite called Ngepi, but when we heard the low down from Roy and that he was considering pushing on to the next stop and staying for two nights we all readily agreed, after all we would be gaining a swimming pool and the added distance was only three hours. The ride wasn't all fun, the land was dry, barren without game, and very, very hot. We all slept crashed across many chairs, since there were so few people in the trip we each had a row, passing the Central Klahari Game Reserve, Tsodilo Hills (read Laurens Van der Post), and the Caprivi Strip (Angola War area). We made the German colony of Namibia about eleven and arrived the green Ngwasi Lodge 20 km east of Rundu just before dark, at 630pm.

 

We were happy with the decision to put up here for two nights on the Okavango River and walked to the riverbank very close by in a celebratory mood with a Castle each. The sun graced us with a setting of shades of red and yellow over Angola on the far side of 100 meter wide river.

 

For dinner Roy grilled chicken, Claire prepared vegetables and salad. We sat in the balmy Namibia night on camp chair near the grill and talked casually. A fellow Which Way driver sat near Roy and when then listened to their exchange about many topics - how drunk people were naked after the South African loss to Australia, about the Angola war, overland driver strategies, and of a Ngwasi Lodge worker whose two children died of AIDS and looks very sick himself.

 

We were happy with the campsite near the river and especially for the thick grass we raised the tent on. Our door was two meters from the four meter high riverbank and pointed across the river to Angola. I laid my mattress pad down and then my sleeping bag and slept covered by my red Thai sheet with Asian elephant. Midway through the night I felt chilled and was happy for the cool weather to sleep in, then I slipped into my sleeping bag.

 

One camp resident is a young, small, short-haired white pup bursting with playful energy and smooth with cuteness which goes a long way when there's food around. Since he became our new source of entertainment and because he is so small we named him Randy the Mouse. He has become a favorite with small sharp teeth like needles that are required to chew on everything - clothes, feet, shoes, fingers, and sticks. Many times we'd chase while he fumbled down the lawn while dragging a shirt much bigger than himself or we'd find him asleep in the tent. In the morning Randy would be on his stomach with butt and tail wagging furiously in excitement for playpals.

 

We 11/3/99 - Rundu, Namibia

 

Of all countries I have or will visit on this walkabout, Namibia has the least population density at 1.9 per square kilometer, followed by Botswana (2.3), and Australia (2.4). (Singapore is the densest, 4600 people per square kilometer.) Namibia, like Botswana, has been held in fascination for years. Eyes of people I've recently met have mysteriously smiled and turned far-away when they've spoke of Namibia. It's a dry and sometimes inhospitable country but wild and open with painted landscapes, great wildlife areas, colonial German towns, and a fierce, desert coastline. And also like Botswana the earliest people were San (Bushman) and Hottentot. Germany and then England colonized the country.

 

With a full day in the area, we tripped into the dull Rundu for errands before the heat peaked. While Claire bought groceries, Roy filled the natural gas bottle, bought diesel, and found a welder to repair a broken bracket on a water tank that hangs below the chassis. We checked out a bad curio shop (the co-op), and then attacked a grocery store for water, ice cream, chocolate, and ice.

 

The heat is close to unbearable, the temperature was guessed to be 35C, but I think higher. Clothes dry so quickly, and after a shower so did I - too quickly for relief. We'd buy cool water to drink but it would immediately turn hot and be rather disgusting. Of course I worry about film aging prematurely and the colors skewing.

 

We arrived back at Ngwasi Lodge at noon and headed straight for the pool. Rick and I did our best at creating waves with splash dives, Logan taught us advanced techniques on squirting water from between clasped palms and how to water juggle. Since Angola was just across the water we eyed the country's shore as a entertainment target and after Logan, Rick, and I waded and swam across we stood for a picture with topless locals taken from Nambia, then we switched with Robyn, Maryke, and Roy. Our worries of crocs and hippos had been calmed by Roy who often swam here and explained that the local population took out these dangerous animals.

 

We sat around the tents, bougainvillea on the riverbank framed the sunset, and the day finally cooled to a bearable temperature. Randy was jumping about between each of us, alternating between play and resting on our laps - the dog is so cute. I rose to better see the last red rays of the day across the curving river, and as I stood on the bank, a rustle through the water caught my surprise. I called the others over and we all stood in amazement - a two-meter croc was swimming upriver, pushed along by sinuous flips of its thick tail. He would submerge briefly to pop up a couple of meters further on like a live prehistoric submarine. We were in disbelief, we all had earlier swam across the river, and now this predator was before us. And once he was upriver two snakes slithered across the river toward Angola which raised more questions and possible scenarios. To make the situation even more interesting, Roy had said that the Okavango River in Rundu is without bilharzia but a guidebook contradicts this. But of these issues it was the croc that made us shiver most.

 

Th 11/4/99 - Etosha National Park, Namibia (Namutoni Camp)

 

I woke around 6am, gathered by daypack, and walked east along the river. The scene was similar as yesterday but without half naked local women crossing with clothes atop heads. I took a closer interest at the birds and the village across the river in Angola since I had my binoculars. As I came across an open area on the bank close to the water a woman screamed from the other side, unintelligible to me, and I imagined she warned me of a danger in the water.

 

On the walk back I jumped into the pool, did a set of pushups, then moved in for a kill at breakfast. I found Robyn, as I expected, playing with Randy the Mouse at our camp area, dragging a stick on the ground with the little white dog bounding behind, ears propped, pink tongue flapping, and small pointy white teeth bared.

 

Our big yellow truck brought us for another long day's drive west to our second highlight of the trip - Etosha National Park, reputed to be one of the best wildlife parks in Africa. We arrived at 315pm. A sign was at the park entrance gate in form of two clocks saying gates open at 625am and close 650pm. We camped in the first of the park's three orderly government camps, Namutoni Camp, and wasted no time with jumping into the pool near the restored white German fort..

 

Earlier in the day I had asked Roy about an afternoon game drive and his reply was that our game drive would be from the gate to Namutoni Camp. That distance was short and featureless and so with a general conscientious, I asked and then begged Roy for a game drive

 

We whizzed counter clockwise around Fischer's Pan, much smaller than Etosha Pan. A pan is a dry or seasonally wet lake bed. There were zebra, wildebeest, springbok, kori bustard, elephant, and many giraffe. A springbok "pronks", meaning springs in the air to alert others of danger (maybe a "pronkbok" should spring). We've seen amazing photos of this and excitedly wished to witness it. At Aroe Waterhole we watched twenty magnificent gemsbok (oryx) standing stifly, moving little. Gemsbok are large bok have very long impressive straight horns and an unusual black and white patterned face. Lastly, stopped for ten minutes to observe three adolescent lion (one male, two female) lounging while a giraffe at just beyond. We thought the lion were lazy, that they should quickly sneak around and rip apart the giraffe, but maybe we were a little self interested.

 

The waterholes at Namutoni and the other two camps are very popular and offer an interesting attraction when one has freetime in the camp. Namutoni's waterhole faces west and has a nicely designed sloping open thatched roof with concrete bench seats underneath. In front of the viewing stand a four-foot high post fence protects the animals from tourists. We sat for fifteen minutes as the sun sank past the horizon and watched springbok and timid giraffe carefully approach and drink.

 

Fr 11/5/99 - Etosha National Park, Namibia (Halali Camp)

 

Today was our first of three mornings in the park, but our only morning game drive. Unfortunately, our schedule was dictated by a company itinerary interpreted by Roy who sometimes appears detached from the desires of clients. Maybe this is my imagination, but nearly every other person visiting the park is on drives immediately after sunrise and before sunset, but not us.

 

We drove around Fischer's Pan again, clockwise. The drive was very different from last night, the lighting was different, and the types and quantities of animals had changed. We stopped and observed a lioness and three cubs. They walked parallel to the road about ten meters in, from shrub into a pan channel, a flat and open gray expanse. The mother led and the three cubs dawdled along, playing with one another and bouncing to catch up.

 

We stopped again at Aroe Waterhole where various beautiful bok lazed, but again we passed Twee Palms Waterhole filed with ostrich and other animals. I requested Roy to stop with the 'hey, stop!' button inside the cabin and then by phone. Claire explanation, "You'll see the same animals at other waterholes later."

 

We returned to Namutoni Camp for another breakfast of cereal, long life milk, toast, and tea.

 

After breakfast we moved west toward the next camp. The sun and heat were full on, the clients hung on the windows staring across the delta. A round waterhole, an indent amongst thornbush with long grass at center and a mud moat, was lifesource to a nice variety and quantity of wildlife - giraffe, gemsbok, springbok, kudu, impala, zebra, and ostrich. There were many of these waterholes, on the map they were labeled either wet, dry, or as a windmill.

 

At a second waterhole impala, zebra, gemsbok, kudu, and giraffe repeatedly walked slowly to the water and nervously stampeded away. Under shade, about a hundred meters away, were six lions. Each time a lion moved his or her head, the waterhole animals would stampede into the opposite distance, kicking up panic and dust, then would slowly filter back to nervously drink.

 

By our third waterhole, Kalkheuwel, I was drooling for a panoramic camera. The format would have fit perfectly. The animals here were similar although often they differ as does the waterhole's shape, size, and surroundings. Each is unique and interesting in these ways. Okerfontaine Waterhole had the endless gray-green Etosha Pan as backdrop merging with the distant sky

 

xxxzzzaaa

 

sick somewhere here - finger down throat

 

Sa 11/6/99 - Etosha National Park, Namibia (Okaukuejo Camp)

 

Etosha Lookout

 

dozen elephant on left, four on right of descending age and size, the smallest very small, all eating thorn bush.

 

mosh pit 26 11/6 Aus Waterhole zebra and gemsbok fighting and, zebra running through center

 

20000 sq km

 

Okaukuejo is the third and western most camp, also with a mixed feel of German and African desert influence. A the gate entrance is a post office, curio shop, and grocery store - all small. Nearby is a stone lookout tower, beyond a duel circle pool, and then abolition (amenity) blocks and dry dusty camping sites. Toward the waterhole are neat looking round chalets called rondavels, made of stone as is every building in the park. Recently this camp was struck lightening and destroyed, then rebuilt with German donations.

 

Setting tents was postponed to cooler temperatures and we all bee-lined for the pool. We soaked in the water and sun with hats on and gabbed until sleepy then crashed under sparse shade trees with patchy groundcover and thorn twigs to annoy Robyn - ouch!

 

Today was a big day for many travelers and patriots of British Empire countries and colonies - the Rugby World Cup final. New Zealand, by far the favorite in the playoffs, were upset by France in the semi-final and lost again on Thursday for third place against South Africa. Now France was facing Australia and bets were 50-50. We had talked about the possibilities and options for finding a television, but since we were in the center of outback Namibia, we had little hope, but Claire was a saviour and scouted and succeeded in finding a viewing location in a small adjacent village to the camp.

 

France scored first with three after a penalty but Australia pulled ahead.

 

Our crowd consisted of one America, two Dutch, one sad New Zealander, two South Africans, and two Namibians. Since New Zealand are strong rivals to Australia, Logan routed for France, since South Africa lost to Australia, the South Africans and Namibians routed for France, and since France was part of Europe, Rick and Maryka routed for France. Roy was the exception, his logic was to keep the cup in the southern hemisphere. So I was hearing, "Go Europe!" and "Go southern hemisphere!", and so my logic followed suit, "Go the country also beginning with 'A'!". Besides, France are ruthless terrors in the third world, they're snotty in Paris, they are the American military's number one espionage threat, and rugby is traditionally a British Empire Sport. Robyn didn't risk a bit of subtlety and cheered loudly for the green and yellow xxxaaa.

 

The game was slow, most points were scored after penalties, Australia made two trys and won overwhelmingly.

 

In the early evening Robyn and I sat on a bench at the camp's waterhole, a long irregular wall of concrete and stone with an open wire fence inclined to the wall to dissuade animals from the camp area. Three strong beams lit the twenty-meter wide hole then faded softly to black beyond. The thornveld here was ripped apart by elephant, the trees were now mere twisted stocks of trunk. The unnatural lighting and strange vestigial trees and barren undergrowth created an unearthly landscape. The long curving wall was lined with people - silent and also unnatural, and the eeriness was twofold.

 

The waterhole was quiet except for a handful of black and white birds riding the strong breeze that blew a fine, light dust at us. They pitched and dove and gobbled moths carried in the flow toward the bright lights

 

From the darkness at left a tall thin form slowly materialized - a giraffe and almost in unison the large, round form of an elephant appeared at center. As they simultaneously made their way to the waterhole, one by one, eight more giraffe also materialized from the darkness.

 

 

The old bull elephant stood to our right at the waterhole's edge, about two feet above the water. He stood upright and his long trunk extended to easily reach the water. The trunk was filled then brought to the mouth and emptied there. The elephant had calmly walked without hesitation to the hole and without fanfare simply drank.

 

In complete contrast were the normally graceful giraffe. They were very timid, taking a long while to reach the waterhole - walking, stopping, looking, and searching for lion. The act of drinking was comparatively laborious and awkward since they could not easily reach the water - the long necks can't cover the distance beyond the long legs. The giraffe with obvious effort first flings one spindly leg to the side - here the bottom half flails as if disconnected inside before meeting the ground, and then the other leg in flung. After the cumbersome process and in a strange orientation with shoulders down and front legs in a v-shape the long necked animal can drink, but the he looks very vulnerable. Some giraffe still in their precarious position raised their heads to search the veld for predators, others rose full length to have a look, then repeated the strange process.

 

I was tired from my illness and fell asleep early after dinner while others returned to the waterhole. They were privileged to see two white rhinoceroses and a playful baby.

 

Su 11/7/99 - Windhoek, Namibia

 

I sat under a large, two meter cube, sociable weaver nest in a thorn tree near our tents. The little back and white birds flitted in and out of there respective holes on the underside of the communal nest of yellow straw. The size of the straw nest was impressive, as was the number of nesting entrances underneath.

 

The Guerber overland was nearby, there I talked with Ed from London and was miffed of hearing about Guerber's excellent food, full breakfasts with eggs, bacon, cereal, and loads of fresh fruit. I told of our hotdog and pologna lunches and he replied they have nothing like that. The Guerber trip cost is the same, actually less after their food kitty surplus refund (Which Way doesn't consider our $300 payment directly to the driver as a kitty). Ed's trip is two days longer although they bypassed the Okavango Delta.

 

After browsing a curio market north of Windhoek, I swapped seats with Claire and rode up front with Roy. We talked about the country and commercial overland trips and truck stories. I reminisced about my college days driving a truck into Boston for a meat processing firm, not a glamorous way to earn for school, but living in the industrial city of Manchester didn't offer many options.

 

My best story is from a day I improperly loaded a long truck and had to brake quick for a moron stopping at a yellow light in Manchester's main street. I came within inches of the bumper ahead and felt the truck swaying forward and backward, and after a long few seconds I heard a crashing boom and the truck stopped swaying. When I open the loading door I found 2000 pounds of cure and beef tongues spilled across the bed.

 

On the outskirts of the nation's capitol we passed by modern commercial buildings, then a series of housing areas neat and painted white and trimmed with bright colors. This was by far the most civilized city I've seen in Africa this trip. We drove straight into the city to an internet cafe, passing a modern funky supreme court building and many other tall buildings. The city was spotless, neat, and after the long haul across Africa, even attractive.

 

Six of us jumped on computers with monitor timers, and since we each had paid just N$10, the monitors went black after thirty minutes. The others paid for another half-hour and I opted to walk about the city.

 

The city was very quiet - it was Sunday and nearly every shop was closed. I walked by a Spur, KFC, and large grocery and retail stores, many with corrugated shutters preventing a view inside the closed establishments. I was amazed still at such a clean and modern city, influence of South Africa and the remaining German influence. Two church spires inspired my direction up a hill in the heat. The churches were very plain but large and accordingly neat. The second church sat boldly atop a hill and was being used for a native Namibian family's photo session. The mother was huge, dressed in a dark blue traditional Victorian dress with triangular hat and many petticoats. Her children were dressed in Sunday best, the husband stayed behind the wheel of his BMW convertible but in the photos.

 

The campground of choice, Arebbusch, was about seven kilometers from the city center, bordering a main thoroughfare and the fairly quiet international airport. The camping area was past the office, beyond chalets, and a walk from the pool. At our end were the cleanest and brightest amenity blocks and a wooden lookout tower. I spent a moment wondering way the tower was there, then climbed up to an uninteresting view of a runway, the small suburb, and the mountain ranges surrounding the dry city.

 

For the last few days Roy has talked up a restaurant in Windhoek that specializes in game animals called Joe's Beer Garden, and we agreed to a night out for dinner. Joe's was very pub-like and attractive - dark, packed with antique signs, mounted plains animal heads, and other dusty objects. The garden trees are strung with lights, beneath are long tables for dining. The setting was very nice. We all ordered different steaks from game animals, Robyn asking for a smorgasbord - zebra, kudu, gemboks, and crocodile. I ordered kudu with mushroom sauce, chips, and salad. The kudu was similar to beef steak but not impressively tender and instead reminiscent of Roy's grill work. The dinner was fun for a change, the atmosphere was great, but next time I would be more careful on the choice, probably zebra.

 

From Windhoek to...

 

7162 to Boston

 

7200 to Sydney

 

35222 to London

 

793 to Cape Town

 

3817 to Rio

 

8079 to Auckland

 

5229 to Amsterdam

 

Mo 11/8/99 - Sesriem, Nanimbia (Nanib Dunes)

 

Windhoek shouldn't have been on the itinerary, especially on a Sunday. Which Way should have substituted a scenic stop for the night instead, but I'm just a client - what do I know?

 

Before breakfast I walked through the empty campground to the pool, jumped in, did some pushups, then walked to a wooden fence to view the Monday morning traffic. Three wires ran high near the top of the fence and since I was still have asleep I raised my right hand to rest it on the top wire. My arm buzzed, my right hip joint was thrust apart a foot then returned to it's socket, and the jolt ran down to my toes. I quickly turned and walked away and laughed at what I must have looked like

 

We were off at 830a for another long day of driving. If you consider the overland trip's nineteen-day schedule, this is our eighth day of thirteen without playing tourist. We did nothing close to substantial those days and what I mean is this - the first day was spent unsupervised in Victoria Falls, one full day was spent in featureless Rundu, and the rest were spent in the truck traveling without stops of interest. This is a product of miles and time - many miles between Victoria Falls and Cape Town in too few days, but I believe (and I believe the others believe) that we could have had better use of the time available. The trip could easily be planned to cover more distance some days to stay longer at places of interest. Possibly the overland companies rely too much on people socializing to enjoy themselves, something that can be done many places without the heavy expense.

 

Since Victoria Falls the landscape has been very flat, has changed to small hills and undulating roadway to large expanses of dry fenced farmland (without stock) and small rocky mountains to seas of sand reaching the larger rocky mountains. The land is barren, lifeless, hot, but interesting for the bleakness. The colors and textures softly changed hues and patterns, the expanse of rock and sand was like a moonscape.

 

The camp and area around Sesriem was as bleak or even more so, but since we were to view Nambia famous dunes closeby, the atmosphere was fitting and we took a liking to it. Circular stone walls large in diameter and waist high were built for protection from blowing sand and as individual sites around a relatively big shade tree. There wasn't grass anywhere in the campground except for patches near the dust-clouded pool where we measured visibility at about one finger's length. Within walking distance were small dunes with some vegetation, further on were Rocky Mountains and the teasing of large dunes.

 

Tu 11/9/99 - Sesriem, Nanimbia (Namib Dunes)

 

The Namib dunes are a national attraction, a fantastic moving sea of sand covering a large area (300km by 150km) between the Skeleton Coast and the country's center. In my first southern experience I heard about Namibia and it's dunes and stared at many pictures, and years ago while in Cape Town purchased a book on Namibia, promising to visit one day. The classic photographs are of enormous sand dunes colored in early morning light, divided into tones by shadows, colored in shades of red. The photos aren't busy but simplistic, only a few sweeping planes of differing colors and possibly the clear deep blue sky. This is what we saw today.

 

Roy and Claire had us up and ready just before 5am to make the park gate opening near the campground. We bombed along half asleep in the dark for the best early morning light, heading for Dune 17. As the minutes passed the dawn morning very slowly lit growing dunes and with effort I tried to see the massive shifting sands. The road we drove became visible - we were driving through the center of a wide flat valley of gray sand bordered by towering red dunes. Wind occasionally blew up sand to kill visibility and we slowed. Forty-five kilometers from the park gate is Dune 45, the most popular dune to climb and photograph, an easy climb, but we moved on another twenty kilometers to Dune 17, obviously not seventeen kilometers from the park gate.

 

The sun hadn't risen but the sky provided enough reflected light to see a plain of scraggly trees coated with valley dust dotted amongst gray sand of Sossusvlei. Dune 17, orange and sinuously shaped, loomed to the west, the highest dune in the park, 300 meters up.

 

Robyn, Logan, Rick, Maryke, and I walked across the valley floor, passed a few gemsbok, between these strange heavy bark, desert trees, and toward the dune. Roy suggested a longer route with a more gradual incline and it was gorgeous, a serpentine line following a dynamic ridgeline ascending left to right toward the peak. Once off the valley floor the sand turned from gray to orange-red and with the first pitch walking in the soft sand hinted strongly at the challenge before us. We all turned to bare feet and struggled up the long albeit beautiful crawl. Leading the pack was by far the hardest position and for each person back in the line effort lessened, but not below burdensome. For each step the leader took he broke the distinct ridgeline crest and his foot fell that much further through the soft sand. We all took our turns.

 

We stopped occasionally for a rest, to peer across this magnificent valley and to the dunes all around, and to take photos. On our first stop the sun rose in a plain yellow ball into the cloudless blue sky. I stayed behind to take pics of the others walking ahead, every color was vibrant - their clothing, the hues of orange and red in the dunes, the blue in the sky. Every view offered a different and intriguing glimpse of this constantly changing gift of nature.

 

After forty-five minutes I took my turn at the lead and found it frustratingly slow going along the knife-edge of unbroken red sand. As much as I pushed, the others were on my heels and comparatively breathless. Some steps left my knees heading in a different direction than my feet and my steps were of a drunk man. Now I found the beauty not just in the distance view but in the sharpness of the abrupt dropoff on each side of the dune ridge. I saw ripples from wind and other textures and patterns in the sand planes - little tracks from wayward beetles and other small crawling insects, and waves of slow moving sand from our footsteps..

 

The ridgeline dipped and curved and climbed one last time to the top of dune 17. Rick took lead and plodded along with Robyn behind. I stayed behind again for a good photo opportunity. With my zoom set long I placed them in near profile close against the powerful background of the dune, coursing left on a horizontal knife-edge with the ridgeline ahead sweeping up and to the left.

 

After an eighty minute hike, we stood and sat atop the dune, happy to have made our goal and ecstatic in the views all around us. From this vantage point the valley to the east was in strong white light from the sun, both the dune lines below the sun and the valley trees were back lit and fuzzy and too bright to focus on. Every other angle also afforded great sights of the spectacle we came for - dune faces in varying shades of red and orange, some sunlit and others in shade, each in a unique somewhat quasi-polygonal shape.

 

In countless permutations we swapped around for pictures. Maryke brought along Indy, her blue stuffed elephant, and with Blacky they also posed for photographs with awesome wind swept backgrounds.

 

The heat comes early in the desert. That and the promise of breakfast spurred a movement to return to the truck, Robyn leading the food convey per norm. We ran out of control, jumped, spun, and fell down the steep sand. The sand was firmer than we expect so extreme tumble were tempered. I half ran and jumped off each foot in a simulation of Neil Armstrong on the moon, "One giant step for man, one giant leap for mankind". We had sand everywhere - hair, shorts, shoes. Logan and I had a long jump contest, Maryke ran like Julie Andrews with arms out and singing.

 

Claire fried a mixture of eggs and bacon - which I was happy for, but light on eggs and heavy on fat - which I wasn't happy for. It was a welcome change though, and like the bologna and hotdogs I wolfed it down. Processed meats and an overabundance of carbohydrates is not a part of my normal diet. Diet while traveling is difficult to control but while on this overland trip I expected a more healthy variety and I wonder what constraints the company has placed on food buying.

 

Roy cooked another good lamb stew in a potjie over open fire for dinner. We sat around the fire in our stone walled kraal, the night was clear, warm, and calm and the stars were out in profusion. We again tried hard to find and show Maryke the Southern Cross, but were without success. Waking tomorrow morning early for the dunes we would see the famous navigation constellation.

 

We 11/10/99 - Hobas, Namibia (Fish River Canyon)

 

We departed Sesriem, heading south for Fish River Canyon. The first hour of driving was magnificent Namibian landscapes, panoramas of multi-colored dry grass plains and rocky mountain backdrops. The plain's colors blended together, swaths of golden-yellow, reds and light greens leading to rough lifeless mountains. It was 9am and the sun was still low and the colors were at their best. The clear desert sky was also deep and brilliant. I should have asked Roy to stop for photographs.

 

I laid again across the back five seats in the truck. Incongruent with the scenes outside was the book I started to read, "Church of Dead Girls", by Stephen Dobyns from Boston. Outside were fantastic paintings of God, inside the book was a murder thriller about a small upstate New York town terrorized by a serial killer. The views were breathtaking and so every few minutes I propped up to gaze out the window. In the book a crazy kid's mother whored around until someone strangled her and cut her left hand off. The others in the truck also held books but were mesmerized by the passing scenery.

 

This was our longest day of driving, nearly 500km over dirt roads from 8am to 330pm with a brief stop for lunch on an arrow straight, very black tarmac road that ran in each direction for endless miles and wavered and blurred from heat risinng from it before vanishing into flat gravely brown mountains far away.

 

Xxx shoddy government camp, Hobas Camp Ground

 

thick green pool with plenty of floaties on top and unknown crawlies at bottom

 

The sun was near setting and I announce to the Robyn and the group that I was heading for a walk to see the sunset, but they were already gearing up for a third night of hearts (cards). The camp was in a small valley with a dry riverbed running the length beyond trees behind us. This was west and so I walked through the trees, across the sandy riverbed, and up a shale-strewn slope - flat chunks of gray-black rock about a foot long. Generally the land was flat with small undulations but fifty meters to my left may have been a small canyon and to the right was a wide, short, flat-topped kopi. As I walked to the kopi over game tracks the sun small bumps and appeared again. The kopi was made of smaller shale and afforded a wonderful 360 degree view to every dry, rocky horizon - east were rolling hills only a few kilometers away, south had much rougher looking, jagged mountains very far away, and to the north were giant kopis hundreds of meters high and kilometers long, created from erosion and exposing many large and distinct layers of earth.

 

The sun sunk without clouds, an unexciting sunset, but afterward the whole 360 degree horizon glowed in varying color - the west was still bright yellow and as I scanned the horizon from the sun the colors turned and mixed quickly into darker shades of yellow, orange, and brown, then easily around the rest of the horizon in hues of pink, red, and purple. The horizon vibrated in this colors, joining the solid deep blue of the clear open sky. It seemed so simple of an exercise, yet I appreciated this privilege - to be in the hot, dry desert climate, void of moisture and clouds, and especially with views reaching so far into the mountainous distance.

 

At first I stacked two rocks atop one another but after swivelling to see these views and having my butt sore and the rocks topple, I plumped up my daypack for a pillow and laid down. Although the sun had set fifteen or more minute earlier the sky still provided a lot of light and though the details of the mountains were fading, I didn't lose them. I stared skyward and wondered when and where the first star would appear, but then I remembered the first light would be east, a planet we have seen every night. Thirty degrees above the sunset was a crescent moon, a white sliver on the bottom bottom-left. Through binoculars I hoped to see more of the moon, but the remainder was as blue as the sky, and that visible was too narrow to pick on craters. I laid still, my attention captured by the moon, the yellow horizon west and the purple glow all around. If I moved my head the earth would crunch, so I tried to stay still and listen to the silence and feel the warm desert breeze floating over me.

 

I thought I left the kopi too late, that everyone would have eaten, but no true. The clients were playing hearts so I returned to my five seats and read by the two bulb florescent light on the truck side.

 

Roy had done a decent job grilling chicken and Claire prepared a potato casserole. Around the fire we jockeyed for position for light to see our plates. Afterward, we sat and talked lightly about British and Roman history and French cartoons.

 

Th 11/11/99 - Gariep (Orange) River, Namibia

 

Roy's plan was to eat breakfast then drive to see Fish River Canyon and that's what we did, but before leaving we also decided to move onto Orange River after lunch and pay for camping out of our own pockets (N$10). During winter Fish River Canyon is open for one day (one hour down) up to five day hikes, but otherwise it is closed, therefore two days in Hobas would be boring without much entertainment - Hobas hasn't a restaurant or bar but does have a pool, Which Way's camp at Orange River hasn't a pool, but there are river activities and there is a

 

restaurant and bar.

 

We left late for warm morning photos - 9am, but as a consolation Roy asked if we wanted to ride on top of the truck - well, yes! Logan and I jumped on top and sat half way along. The drive was ten kilometers to the canyon lookout. We sat with the truck below bouncing forward and backward, we were are the pivot point and it felt like a rocking horse. The truck bounced along the dry brown landscape with distant mountains, the wind blew our hair and we squinted. I reminisced about riding the buses in Nepal - roads carved through the great mountain scenery with very sharp drop-offs.

 

Being on top of the truck was a bonus for when we arrived the mighty canyon, the scene spread before us in a magnified way. Namibian travel literature places the canyon second in size only to the Grand Canyon, but the Lonely Planet refutes this claim. It's nearly 30 kilometers wide and reaches a maximum depth of 550 meters. The most scenic section of canyon is walkable in season, 85 kilometers long. So, Fish River Canyon is large and something to behold, even Roy and Claire immediately jumped out to stand at a fence and stare off. The canyon is metamorphic, a mixture of sandstone, limestone, and granite. An ancient river carved through the earth to expose walls of layers of sand and stone. The most recent carving created a snaking canyon before us.

 

Roy offered a second viewpoint 3 km to the right. At the truck he warned us the road was now bumpier. Robyn and Claire joined Logan and I, sitting in our last position between to large wooden cargo boxes while we sat on the front of the forward container.

 

Logan and I were stuck for handholds, there wasn't anything to grip, and forward of us was nothing except the cab at a lower level than the truck cabin roof. We sat on the cargo box with our feet on the cabin roof and held onto the edge of the box. I sat left of Logan. We bounced a little more than before but talked just the same. Roy turned toward the viewpoint, the road snaked left and right, and on one curve the truck hit stone and bumps and I was tossed slightly into the air and laughed and screamed half kiddlingly to slow down. A few seconds later the truck leaned and bounced right and more forcibly did the same to the left - to my side. I was like a pea flung from a spoon. I felt my hands leave the sides of the box we sat on and I rolled through the air. When I looked down with extraordinary widen eyes, rocks rather than the truck was under me. In the couple of seconds it took to fall twelve feet I did register a particularly flat and larger rock coming quick - it looked a lot friendlier than the broken scrap everywhere else. Bang! I sprawled and splat like road kill from heaven, then jumped up quickly. The three on top saw me fly away, the others saw a white blur racing by the window, and I heard many, "re you okay?!" I replied yes and that I was lucky, Rick opened the door to the cabin, and I climbed in. I bruised my right palm, right butt check, and cut my upper back. Somehow I also cut my left big tow and bashed my left shin. I was very fortunate I didn't land differently on a more fragile part of body or on a mean pointed rock of which there were many.

 

At the viewpoint we checked out the injuries and laughed about it while we all took photos of the canyon. Later, at the campground I showered with soap to clean the cuts. Walking by the office I noticed a thermometer, the first in Africa - 31 degrees centigrade in shade, surely we've seen it much hotter. Robyn helped apply binadine after washing my blood spotted shirt.

 

During lunch many pale winged starlings waited for handouts in the trees. Pale winged starlings are medium sized birds with shiny dark blue body, black beak, and deep orange eyes. The outer extended wind is tan, while standing this coloring appears as a thin body stripe. I sat alone on a bench and while I ate I tested the birds with small pieces of bird. I placed a piece two feet away and it was quickly taken and then many birds waited nearby. I placed a it of bread on the top rail of the seat back, then on my shoe, on my crossed knee. I fed a couple as they sat on knee.

 

Just after noon we were heading further south over dry, rocky, and unproductive land. Two and a half hours later we arrived at Felix Campground on the !Gariep River, previously named the Orange River.

 

I was hoping for a nice setting, but unless taking a cropped view of the area, it appeared to be a small piece of green amidst an endless quarry. We weren't near a metropolis, but there were many signs of habitation across the dirt slopes and roads nearby. I preferred the stark, natural, lonesome scenery around our site at Fish River Canyon. Felix Campground had a view over the !Gariep River, the far side was South Africa and there were high cliff walls stretching east and west. Peculiarly, the river had cut a path on the edge of these mixed stone and earth walls, but where was the other side of the gorge? South Africa had one half, but the Namibian side was flatish, like soil, without the same metamorphic stone. I didn't care for the large untidy dirt drive, and the work area directly below the campsite, again untidy and a large patch of dirt. Generally the area beyond the property looked similar. The only saving grace was the well watered lawn area for tents. Unless I didn't mind camping in a dust bowl, only in Rundu did we find a decent campground, but then there wasn't anything of interest in the area.

 

Fr 11/12/99 - Gariep (Orange) River, Namibia

 

Making the decision to canoe for the morning was easy - we had two days at Felix Campground and there was an obvious lack of entertainment. There isn't a town nearby and any walks weren't obvious. The river below supplies the only recreation.

 

The five clients, Roy, and our guide, Tanya from Toronto, Canada plied the waterway. A trailer with stacked two person Felix Unit canoes dragged behind a minivan. The driver sped along upriver and I half expected the trailer and van to jackknife. We unloaded the boats. Tanya and the help inserted large plastic containers into each for buoyancy - oops, they forgot the lids and so we waited half an hour for their retrieval back at main base.

 

Tanya gave a terse talk on techniques - how to hold your hands, how to turn, to follow her single file through the rapids. Of the two positions in the canoe - worker up front, brains and steering in the rear. I soon lost points in the brains category.

 

Robyn and I manned one of the beat two seaters, a green trimmed one with many hull repairs. Each person sat slightly elevated on a set contoured with the fiberglass shell. Within a few minutes on the water Robyn and I ere at each other, slapping the paddles down and splashing one another. This lasted throughout the day, the problem being that Robyn eventually gained expertise in a quick incessant back slap form that sprayed too efficiently.

 

Just before the first rapid we paddled up behind Rick and Maryke without notice. Robyn grabbed their rear carrying handle and we rolled about laughing at the confusion in the Dutch vessel since they lost steerage - they stared at their paddles with indignation and then blamed one another for heading in cockeyed fashion. Tanya gave a questioning look across the river and wondered why we weren't lining up for the rapid. We let go without every being caught.

 

Logan and Roy followed Tanya into this easy rapid. Rick and Maryke were third and we were last. My only excuse was that we followed the Dutch. They cross unfashionably across the rapids in front of a rock, nearly grounding, and we follow suit. But, once we were sideways we stopped any forward motion and came downstream on top of the rock. The canoe tipped upstream and quickly filled with water. Damn - how embarrassing!

 

While the others made their way down river to stop on a grassy bit, Tanya pulled up earlier we she first saw the mayhem on the water. A local boy showed with a cut water bottle for a bailer and after ten minutes we had 75 percent of the water out. We sat in the tipsy canoe and immediately rolled it again, filling the vessel a second time. We waked the canoe to a bank and tipped all the water out. Meeting up with the others was more embarrassment, we had to listen to their volleys, and we feebly through excuses out.

 

The remainder of the four hour trip was a mix of boredom, monotony, and water fights. Robyn and I were consistently last on the river. We would catch the other canoes then have yet another mutiny aboard our ship, dosing each other with water. I didn't seem to like the smallest dry spot on her back either and felt compelled to keep her life vest one solid darker color of red. I ran us into high grass and onto sand banks and this also didn't help our progress. Occasionally we pitted our skills against the other boats, including Tanya, but since we were usually behind we suffered the greatest from the back slapping of the enemies paddles.

 

At the campground, after lunch, we all spread out on the soft grass to read. The camp manager walked nearby and annoyingly spoke loudly into his cellular telephone. I heard him asking the party on the other end to visit for the upcoming sandstorm. The sky had been increasingly black, now from the earth to the sky was a strange, huge wall of brown dirt and wind. He told us to pick up loose belongings in the camp, and we ran around to throw towels, sarongs, and bags into the tents, then zipped the tents up. The wind picked up like a hurricane, the sand storm bared down, and I it all reminded me of "The Wizard of Oz". I sought protection in the truck and read, but I believe the others stayed around a tree and talked - that's where they were latter. The blowing sand and wasn't anything worse than some drives on dirt roads while traveling overland, but the force of the wind was strong and reminded me of pieces of hurricanes passing through Newport, although the hurricane smell of the air wasn't there.

 

We spent the late afternoon in the open stone bar overlooking the river playing pool. The mood was festive. As if we were wet enough during the morning, the doctor types brought syringes into the patio area and we harassed one another squirting water for the rest of the day. One last major water fight broke out in the kitchen while was abandoned to wash dishes. Maryke chased me around the barbecue with a five-liter jug of water while I defended innocent self by using plastic cups After dinner we returned to the outdoor bar and squared off on different teams at pool. The last game I saw started with Claire sinking the eight ball on break - remarkable!

 

Sa 11/13/99- Eland's Bay, South Africa

 

We left Orange River at 730a and were through the border posts at Vioolsdrif by 830am. The landscape was dry and boulder strewn, within an hour and a half we were in Springbok, home to light brown people with oriental eyes and the unofficial capitol of Namaqaland's wildflower region. I had promised myself the annual show of wildflowers on this trip, but timing prevented it (normally for two weeks within mid-August to mid-September). Photographs I've seen have been amazing, and both Roy and Claire and others I've met have raved about the show - endless carpets of color across the near desert land.

 

The Which Way schedule listed Clanwilliam Dam for our last night, night number 18 by their counting. Roy thought that staying on the coast was a better idea and we vaguely agreed and decided to check out the dam before changing itinerary since we had to drive through Clanwilliam. In Clanwilliam we saw water thrusting from the dam bottom and without seeing the lake behind it or the campground, Roy drove on toward the coast.

 

Even without seeing the manmade lake, I guess that the undemocratic change of location was a good one. We first drove into Lambert's Bay and straight to a pier with access to Bird Island, a sight Roy mentioned by I was short on details with.

 

Bird Island has a huge cape gannet colony on it. We waked along a concrete pier harboring brightly colored fishing boats on one side from a strong and surging sea on the other. I could see an outcropping of rock was a home to many black cormorants and the gannets, which at this time and from this point I didn't know how many or what the birds actually were. I thought I saw largish off-white birds amidst similar colored round stones but as we gained proximity, I was blown away by this huge colony - the stones were actually birds, there was a huge mass of cape gannets carpeting the small flat peninsula with many cormorants on rocks on the further edges. Inside a funky observation building with a facade of rock looking stucco was an observation theatre behind glass downstairs and an open, windy observation deck above. Information posters described the colony's breeding and behavior habits. While upstairs taking too many pictures I did a quick estimate of birds and guessed 20,000 and I later found from the attendant I was point on. The cape gannets are attractive goose sized birds, fluffy white chest, yellow-brown streaked necks, black heads, and bright blue eyes. We observed the birds from both levels and remarked at the reserved takeoff and landing areas to the sides of the colony. The gannets have short legs and cumbersome fat web feet, and so takeoffs are humorous - the birds waddle quickly and flap hard into the wind and for the moment you think they would be unsuccessful and instead crash into the control tower. They also exhibit peculiar behavior when announcing takeoff, courting, and sleeping.

 

Eland's Bay has a bad rap in the Lonely Planet, okay the town doesn't have much, but the beach was long, sandy, and beautiful. This was my first sight of the sea since Da es Salaam so maybe my reaction was piqued. There were great body surfing waves and it's reputed to have good goofy-footed board surfing. I eyed the waves suspiciously though - it was 530pm, the wind was strong, and the sea temperature is low on the Cape's western coast. Roy said he swam here which was enough of a challenge. But it was colder than cold. My breath stopped with each wave that splashed against my chest as I tried not to look wussy like people do - holding my hands up with wrists limp and jumping sideways at each wave. My feet and shins went numb and organs normally outside my body retreated for safety. Later we read the maximum temperature here is 15C (59F), but the high is in January, two or three months from now. Conscious of people watching and for my own self-justification, I quickly pondered the definition of "swimming" under such circumstances - was it getting my toes wet? Getting my head wet or diving into a wave? Maybe scrotum shrinkage and a rise of two octaves in my voice. I decided a dive through a wave and the ultimate test - peeing. With water this cold, if you can manage a pee, then you've been in long enough.

 

Su 11/14/99 - Cape Town, South Africa

 

This was our final push to Cape Town, after eighteen days and about 4000 kilometers. Roy bumped along a dirt road paralleling the coast, through Veldrif and stopping at Bloubergstrand for the classic view of Table Mountain. The others asked about interest points - the cable car point, Devil's Peak, Lion's Head, and Signal Hill. Last time I was here, I took a great photo of Kerry sitting on the beach with the city and Table Mountain behind. Her father hung it in his office at Harold, Gee, and Broadhead xxx.

 

After much discussion while enroute to Cape Town, we made a groupwide decision to stay at the clean, comfort, and quieter Zebra Crossing on New Church Street, near the more rambunctious Backpack. I had hoped a bed wouldn't cost more than US$10 per day, but I was close to disappointed (dorm beds R45, singles R100, double R150), and we took a room for five people at 210 rand per night.

 

While eating at St. Elmo's Pizza, Cape Town in Kloof St. I felt compelled to calculate the differences in cost of pizza per square centimeter:

 

Adriatic w/ ham not salami

 

radius rand sq cm per rand

 

20 20.90 15.0

 

25 31.50 15.6

 

30 44.5 15.9

 

Zebra Crossing

 

taxis (35 rand) to cable car (65 rand)

 

large flat mountain, lots of walking places

 

views of camp bay, over twelve apostles, Muizenberg

 

taxi to Camps Bay, beach packed with Sunday frolicers, paragliders fell from Lion's Head, to Le Med, a popula sunset spot, especially on a Sunday afternoon, big old hairy guy playing guitar

 

crazy ride to the Waterfront (50 rand), guy was drunk

 

-end

 

"Okavango, Africa's Wetland Wilderness" by Adrian Bailey (Struik)

 

"Mukiwa, A White Boy in Africa" by Peter Godwin

 

-end of document