Month: May 2012

Hippo in the Lagoon below the deck

July 7, 2011, Livingston to Kalamu Lagoon Camp, Zambia. We pack quickly, eat an early breakfast, are picked up at 8:00 and driven to the Livingston Airport. As we wait, I watch an elaborate military march and ceremony taking place on the airport tarmac, but resist the temptation of taking any photographs, lest I be scolded by one of the many armed guards. Our flight from Livingston Airport to Lusaka International is just over an hour and after a 1 ½ hour wait in Lusaka, we board a small bush plane for the final leg of the trip to the Kalamu Lagoon Camp airstrip. Our pilot buzzes low over the airstrip to clear it of animals, circles around again and lands, breaking and bumping to a stop on the uneven hard packed dirt runway. As usual, a safari vehicle is waiting along-side the dusty airstrip. The pilot is flying immediately back to Lusaka and the protocol is that we wait for him to complete his safety check and take off safely before driving away. The Kalamu Lagoon Camp is just 5 minutes away and situated on an immense and lush lagoon with the anticipated resident hippos, crocodiles and shorebirds. It is 2:00 P.M. when we arrive and a half dozen of the camp crew greet us as climb from the vehicle; handing us hot towels and welcome fruit drinks at the same time. The lounge, bar and dining area is open on three sides and the veranda extends over the lagoon 15 feet below. An oval, jewel of a swimming pool is off to one side of the public area, also overlooking the lagoon. The setting is idyllic and I would be happy to simply sit here for the next two days and do little except watch the wild life parade on this panoramic, 3D screen. We are the only guests tonight and lunch is served immediately; a chicken curry and rice entrée accompanied by varied salads; fresh greens, feta, rocket and tomato salad, an asparagus, avocado and pumpkin salad, and a tropical fruit and mint salad. Heavenly!

Overlooking the Lagoon

John relaxes at the edge of the pool

Sundowners a la Landrover

Marty and John at the edge of Victoria Falls

We start the morning with the inclusive, elaborate buffet breakfast in the open front restaurant beside the pool. After breakfast, John spends an hour on the internet while I write my blog, but I am unsettled; uncertain if an activity that I have booked for today, before leaving home, will take place. I had hoped that John and I would be able to swim in Devils Pool at the top of Victoria Falls, but hear that the water level is too high for the swim. Simply having lunch on the island seems mundane and I rather wish to cancel, but am told that I will not get a refund. We resign ourselves to going, not knowing how else to proceed and at 12:00 P.M, John and I are shuttled over to the Royal Livingston Hotel, where the motor boat will pick us up. We wait on the expansive deck of the Royal Livingston Hotel, overlooking the Zambezi River, dotted with sand bars and tiny islands.  We can see Livingston Island, at the very edge of the falls and I wonder if we are about to earn a Darwin award.  We sign the indemnity wavier, strap on the mandatory orange life vests and climb aboard a small motor boat. The boat sets its course directly towards the lip of the falls; turning towards the tiny island just 300 feet from the precipice and nosing up onto the sand.  We follow our guide along a narrow dirt path arriving at a raised and tented platform, with a table set for 6, and a heart stopping view of the falls.  Another couple will be joining us, but in the interim, we remove our shoes, wrap ourselves in the provided heavy green rain ponchos and set out barefoot along the muddy trail, behind our guide. The path is slick and our guide points out hippo tracks and I conclude that some of this presumed mud is most likely, hippo poop.  When the edge of the falls is just 100 feet away, our guide takes my hand and we step off the trail into knee high, marsh-grass, interspersed with outcroppings of firm black bedrock.  At places, I sink up to my knees in the muck and hold our guides hand all the more firmly.  A moment later we are standing at the edge of the river, the falls less than 20 feet beyond. Our guide points to a series of rocks between us and a rocky point immediately above the falls and maps out our stepping stone route between the river bank and the rocky point.  I tell him that I cannot do it, but John is game and I say a quiet prayer as our guide takes John’s hand and they traverse the 20 feet of river to the rocky point.  I reassure myself that this tour has been operating for many years without mishap and that, most likely, it looks worse from my vantage point on the bank, than in reality. Our guide has my camera and takes photos of John on the protruding rocky precipice, the falls thundering forcefully beyond. I breathe a sigh of relief when John is again, standing beside me on the marshy river bank.

John Touching the Rainbow

View from the edge of Victoria Falls

John standing at the lip of the Victoria Falls

Victoria Falls is over a mile across, so there are many sections to the falls and numerous vantage points. We turn and walk a 100 feet to the other tip of the island with a view of Rainbow Falls and the Livingston monument. In October, this part of the falls will be dry, but today the spray from the waterfall creates a rainbow. I hold the guides hand firmly and sink deep in the mud when bedrock is not available. Our guide takes photos with the falls and the rainbow behind us. With the island tour complete, we muck our way back to the trail and pad barefoot to the platform tent area where lunch will be served. Before stepping up onto the dining platform, we are seated and our feet washed in hot water and dried.

John and I sit on the sunny side of the table, the falls cascading, just 30 feet off to our left.  I seldom drink wine in the afternoon, but all is inclusive and we have little to do but relax after this adventure.  A newly-wed couple in their early 30’s from the U.K. are the only others on this island tour today and we share stories of our respective trips and lives, while indulging in a first rate, three course lunch.

Lunch on Livingston Island

At 3:00 P.M, we climb back aboard the small motor boat and within 5 minutes are deposited back at the Royal Livingston Hotel. A short shuttle ride takes us to our hotel, where for the remainder of the afternoon, John relaxes by the pool, reading Jurassic Park. Our lunch was very late so we skip dinner, but take early evening showers so that we will be ready for our morning flight to the Kalamu Lagoon Camp in Lungasa.  When showering, I discover 5 stowaway tics from Livingston Island, two of them burrowed in extremely private spots. I try not to freak out  but wish them removed.  After a call to the desk, I go to the hotel clinic and nurse  Nana, discretely removes the ticks with forceps. Her big smile and sense of humor puts me at ease and I am taking them home as souvenir, in the event that I experience any adverse symptoms later on.  

Crossing the Border between Zimbabwe and Zambia- July 5, 2011.  

Foyer of the Zambia Sun Hotel (Livingston Tourist Bubble)

Before we leave the elegance of the Victoria Falls Hotel, John and I enjoy a final, inclusive breakfast at the Jungle Junction café.  This may be the best hotel experience in my life, and I have had occasion to stay at both the Ritz in Paris and in London.  I feel as if I am taking part in a classic movie, sipping strong coffee on this outdoor patio, overlooking the gorge, the Victoria Bridge  illuminated by morning sunlight.

I settle our dinner and laundry account with my Visa Card and our transfer arrives, promptly at 10:15, to take us across the border to Zambia.  As we approach the border, our driver asks if I have the $100 needed for our two visas?  I surmised that there would be a visa fee, but am surprised at the amount and inform him, that no, I do not have $100 cash.  We have $80 American and the equivalent of $15 in pounds.  He is non-pulsed by this and tells me that we will just leave my passport at the border and he will take me to a bank, across the border.  I hope that I have better luck with this A.T.M than I did yesterday. Today is a banking holiday in Zambia, but when I insert my A.T.M. into the Barclay Bank A.T.M. the screen welcomes me by name and spits out 500,000 Kwacha. We return to the border, pay the visa fees in Kwacha, and cross officially into Zambia. Within 5 minutes we are deposited at the flashy, Zambia Sun Hotel.  Four exotically dressed male dancers drum and chant in the grand open foyer as we offload our luggage and a waiter glides towards us with a tray of fruity welcome drinks as I register at the front desk.  The hotel is burnt orange in color with geometric mosaics and murals of zebras and elephants decorating the sun-kissed walls.  A pool shimmers in the distance and metal wart hog sculptures grace the expansive lawn.  Except for subtle details, John and I feel as if we are at an all inclusive 5 star resort in Baja Mexico.

Metal Wart Hog Lawn Sculptures; their positions changed by the gardeners each morning before dawn.

After settling into our comfortable room we follow signs along the path behind our hotel leading to the Zambia Park side of Victoria Falls.  Entrance to the Falls is included in the room rate, and we sign the ledger, our room numbers and the time before entering the park.  There are many other tourists as well as locals walking the paths, most drenched and wearing slick green rented ponchos, cameras in hand. We heard that the falls are even more stunning, viewed from Zambia, but yesterdays, Zimbabwe Falls adventure is cemented in my memory and today’s seems tame by comparisum.  We spend 1 ½ hours in the park, walking the slippery pathways with minimal barriers between safety and the gorge below.  We cross a narrow steel bridges, spanning the turbulent river below and shrouded in mist.  I take many photos and have extra batteries on hand today.

Rainbow at Victoria Falls – Zambia

Victoria Falls- Zambia

After two hours exploring the Victoria Falls park, Zambia side, John and I return to our stylish room. After a brief rest, we feel trapped in our Disneyesque Hotel and  spurge on a hotel taxi to drive us the 10 miles into the town of Livingston. This craft market is more structured than the one we visited in Zimbabwe, yesterday, but we enjoy time looking into the many tiny stalls lining the street arcade. When we bore of the tourist arcade, we venture out along side streets to the real part of the market and encounter some hostility.

John in the Livingston Tourist Crafts Arcade, Zambia

I seldom take close up photos without asking first, but I lift my camera to take a distant shot of the street market, zoom in, and a women points
angrily at me.  Several other women turn their faces away. Not one to be intimidated, John and I continue our walk along the streets and through the markets, but I feel that eyes are watching us and know that we are not entirely welcome. We complete the loop back to the tourist arcade and take a taxi back to the safe bubble of our hotel.

Colorful Girls, Livingston Zambia

Angry Market Women, Livingston

Livingston Market Scene

Livingston Street Scene

Vegetable Street Market, Livingston

,

Bhekie in his shop.

A bowl vendor in his shop.

It’s 2:30 P.M. and we walk quickly back across the border without incident and take a taxi to the Victoria Falls craft market. The craft market is a sprawl of stalls encompassing several blocks. We begin methodically, trying to walk the grid of tiny shops, but each vendor demands that we stop and look at his wares; to support his craft and whines that he has not had any business that day.  The market is almost void of tourists and I feel for their plight, but am uncomfortable with such pressure. Some days ago, the Davidson Camp used lovely, geometrically painted wooden bowls to hold fruit and to pass out the heated towels. I see similar bowls at this market and choose two at one of the first stands. The price starts at $35 each and we settle at $20 for two.  Each shop offers slightly different designs and before long I have acquired 6 or 7 bowls. They are now nested and tightly bundled for transport and I have lost count.  We mill around the market, many eyes watching, and a few vendors shadowing us.  If I am momentarily absorbed in a possible purchase and John wanders off, when I look up, someone takes my arm and points to appraise me of John’s whereabouts. They all wish to be helpful: I surmise in the hopes of securing a bowl sale from me. John’s wish is to buy a carved chess set and he tortures the vendors with his discerning eye and eventually bargains for a board from one stall and chess pieces from another.  Although, I would not have made this purchase, I am pleased that he is taking time with his decision and spreading out the wealth between two vendors.

Making friends at the Crafts Market

I pop into a covered market arcade, leaving John to finalize his chess set purchase. My eyes adjust to the dim light and I realize that stalls in this arcade are operated by women only. They too pressure me to buy something to support them, but there is a different energy here.  I walk halfway into the arcade and turn around to exit when a group of women in the back implore me to come see their tiny stalls; ” Just look please.”  I walk to the back and am emotionally overwhelmed by the impossibility of it all.  One young woman reminds me of my daughter Alisha, full lips and wide set eyes, but with a milk chocolate complexion. She is 25 years old with two children, the same ages as my grand children.  I wish that I had made my purchases from these women and tell them so, tears welling up in my eyes. One of them holds out a set of 5 carved wooden spoons and quietly asks if I will buy these for $1 to help support them and to remember them.  I gather up the courage to ask if I may photograph them; hoping not to offend them, and explain that for me, it would be a better memory.  I feel very awkward and offer $5 to be shared between them if I may take photographs. They all speak quite good English and our photo “contract” relieves the tension. I take a few photos and they push close around me to view their images in the back of my camera and we talk and laugh for nearly 20 minutes.

 It is nearly 4:30 P.M. and time is running short if we wish to walk to the falls at sunset.  I urge John to finish his purchase and sit on a low dusty block wall to wait. We have spent nearly 2 hours here and the faces of the various vendors are now familiar.  Several gather around me and ask what I do for a living at home? They know that I have made my purchases and stop pressuring me to buy more. I tell them that I am a jeweler and pull out one of my folding cards. I am down to my last two of these cards and tell them that I cannot give it to them, but pull out a “Marty Magic Safari” post card to leave with them. One of the younger men pulls my web site up on his cell phone and I try to explain that I too sell at “markets,” but that each artist has a unique product so that the competition is not the same as here. The conversation is fun and easy and I take a few quick photos of them gathered together.  I wished that we could stay longer but leave with an e-mail address and promises to send the photos to them when I am back home.

It is nearly 4:30 P.M. and time is running short if we wish to walk to the falls at sunset.  I urge John to finish his purchase and sit on a low dusty block wall to wait. We have spent nearly 2 hours here and the faces of the various vendors are now familiar.  Several gather around me and ask what I do for a living at home? They know that I have made my purchases and stop pressuring me to buy more. I tell them that I am a jeweler and pull out one of my folding cards. I am down to my last two of these cards and tell them that I cannot give it to them, but pull out a “Marty Magic Safari” post card to leave with them. One of the younger men pulls my web site up on his cell phone and I try to explain that I too sell at “markets,” but that each artist has a unique product so that the competition is not the same as here. The conversation is fun and easy and I take a few quick photos of them gathered together.  I wished that we could stay longer but leave with an e-mail address and promises to send the photos to them when I am back home.

John and I hurry away, needing to offload our purchases at the hotel before walking to the falls.

P.S. After returning home, I followed up on my promise and e-mailed Bhekie and Magret, the woman dressed in pink. I sent one large box of good used clothes to them and am negotiating a purchase of bowls and fabric place mats that will be shipped to me soon.

John and I hurry away, needing to offload our purchases at the hotel before walking to the falls.  We stop quickly at the A.T.M. hoping to refuel our cash supply, but the digital message on the screen flashes “closed.” Back at the hotel, we grab our jackets and are soon walking down the path-way leading from the bottom lawn of the Victoria Falls Hotel to the entrance of the park. It is 4:55 P.M. when reach the entrance and I present my credit card to pay the $60 entrance fee; $30 each for foreigners. It is cash only and for the second time today, I dip into John’s extra cash.  We print our names and entry time into the park ledger, don our semi water proof jackets and set off  towards the falls.  The park closes at 6:00 so we have just one hour to make the circuit. If there was a map available, we do not receive one and I assume that the trails will be clearly marked. The sun will set in 30 minutes and I want to take as many photos as possible in the slanted afternoon light. The Falls are indescribably glorious and powerful, with spray so intense that at times, we cannot see across the gorge, but only hear the thunderous roar of the cascading water. We walk quickly from one vantage point to another, aware that we must complete the circuit within the hour. We see only a few other visitors on the trails, and have the park almost to ourselves. The vista points are precariously close to the sheer cliffs and have only knee high chain barriers between the pathways and oblivion. The paths are slippery and mossy from the constant spray and we find ourselves walking through a mysterious rainforest, when just 20 minutes earlier, we were jacketless and trekking over dusty terrain.

The final rays of sunlight on the edge of the Victoria Falls

I take several movies, scanning the breath of the view from each look-out point.  We come to the end of the pathway, double back and take a fork in the trail leading along the edge of vertical cliff.  It is just 5:30 and the sun is a red ball dipping behind the trees, shrouded in mist. As I raise my camera to shoot this sunset photo, my battery goes dead and I rummage through John’s backpack for the camera case containing newly charged batteries. To my dismay, I visualize it on the bed back at our hotel.  I manage to squeeze two more shots from the depleted battery and accept that I will have to commit the rest of the trail to my memory.  There is another fork in the path and John leads, choosing the one following the perimeter of the cliff.  We are in another world, the spray pelting sideways, parts of the pathway submerged in water and all slick with slime and mud. I note a sign post at the fork, but most of the lettering is washed away from the spray and I wonder where the pathway leads? The micro-climate becomes even more intense and further along, John takes a few steps off the path, presumably to get a better view?  I scream for him to come back, but he cannot hear my cry over the thunder of the falls. He must sense my panic, and turns, following me away from the cliff along the pathway.  It winds inland and within a couple of minutes we are standing on dry ground, looking at the Victoria Falls Bridge, but from the opposite side.  I can see our hotel beyond, a pale white in the fading light.

I look at my watch, noting that we have just 15 minutes to get back to the entrance, but when we proceed the path suddenly dead ends.  We must retrace our steps back to the mystery fork in the road.  We have not eaten since breakfast, all of our muscles ache and our feet are soggy and tired, so we walk more briskly than ever and turn at the earlier fork in the path, hoping that it will lead to the exit.  The park closes in 5 minutes and the forest is growing dark.  John growls for effect, reminding me of the wild animals that may be lurking in the surrounding forest.  My heels rhythmically click the rocky path and at 6:15, I finally see the faint light of the park entrance, ahead. The park is closed but several attendants sit eating dinner within the confines of the gate. Raising their cups of tea or coffee in our direction, they jovially ask if we will join them for dinner?  I mutter that we took the wrong path, and we exit into a barren parking lot.  An hour ago, this area was bustling with vendors and taxis waiting in anticipation of a sale. There is no chance of a ride back to our hotel now, so John and I cross the dimly lit railroad tracks and hike even more quickly up the darkening pathway, through the bush, towards our hotel.  I mutter to John that this is exactly what I promised Papa, we would not do. 10 minutes later, we arrive at a closed gate at the lower lawn of the Victoria Falls Hotel.  I reach impulsively towards the fence and John hisses at me to stand back, telling me that the fence is electric.  Barbed wire curls along the top of the fence and John carefully maneuvers the various pins and locks at the bottom of the gate, managing to swing one side of the gate open.  We enter the safety of the hotel property and slip up the side stairway to our room, avoiding the watchful eyes of the diners on the patio beyond.  15 minutes later, we are seated at a candle-lit table for two, overlooking the edge of the veranda; John enjoying one of the best cheeseburgers of his life, (at $14) while I dine on a chicken and mango entrée, (at $16) John is of legal age here and we share a cheap bottle of South African wine and recount the days adventures.

Painting of Victoria Falls at the Victoria Falls Hotel

View of the Victoria Falls Bridge

Victoria Falls Hotel Wart Hogs

We are met by a Wilderness Safari representative, taken to a waiting van and delivered to our hotel. We pass jungle lodges and flashy tourist hotels, but when we drive through the gates of the Victoria Falls Hotel, we know we have arrived. The historical hotel was built in 1905 and is straight out of a movie and we take time to wander the grounds and explore. The hotel’s veranda overlooks an expansive lawn with stunning views of the Victoria Falls Bridge, a haze of mist billowing from the gorge, the spray from the falls. Our room faces the inner garden, overlooking two large and formal lily ponds. It is not one of the more luxurious rooms in the hotel; but it suits our needs, with twin, four-poster, beds, a television that doesn’t work and a vintage bathroom with a tub. John’s priority is to swim in the pool and mine is to take my first bath in over two weeks.

Back Side of the Victoria Falls Hotel

Swimming Pool

30 minutes later, I walk down the elegant curved stairway, through the great room and out onto the veranda. Three wart hogs graze on the hotel’s lawn and I pull out my camera and take the best wart hog photos of to date.  Who needs to go on Safari, when they roam the hotel grounds at large?  When I arrive at the pool, John is just getting out and we share our delight in the wart hog experience watching the male rolling on his back while the female nuzzles his belly. They seem very tame and John wonders if he could pet one and I firmly caution him to stay back. A moment later a young woman, with similar thoughts, reaches towards them, over the low cement wall and jumps backwards as the warthogs snap and grunt their warning.

Spiral Stair Case

Regal Pose

Regal Drawing Room

Its 4:00 P.M. and time to explore the small town of Victoria Falls, just a 5 minute walk from our hotel. We pass along a park where baboons and velvet monkeys roam and rummage in trash cans on our way to the two block strip of tour outfitting offices. John wants to research the bungee jumping options available to him tomorrow and compares prices and options.

Dancing to the Beat

We return to the hotel at dusk hungry and tired and make a quick turn around and walk back out to dinner. We pay one of the hotel guards $2 to escort us through the park to the recommended restaurant. We sit at an outdoor patio and watch a Zimbabwe Folk Dance. Neither the food or the dance is memorable.

The Mana Canoe Trail – June 30 – July 3.
We will depart for our three night Mana trail canoe trip this afternoon, so John is taking a sleeping safari this morning. I too hoped to sleep in but I wake at dawn, walk down to the platform overlooking the river and sit alone by the small fire and write. The other guests straggle in between 7:30 -8:30 and Tom tells me he has received a reply message from Art on his phone. All is well at home, but I have left at a busy time. Art is working on a small consulting job and Barbara Streisand needs 12 more tree frogs.  I type my reply and for the first time on this trip, worry about business and my family back at home.  We vacate our tent at 10:00 A.M; enjoy a delicious lunch of coconut curried chicken skewers and write and read until after tea when we embark on the canoe trip.

At 2: 00 P.M. a land cruiser pulls into camp depositing Laura, Helen, Debbie and Jessica; three doctors and a lawyer, our traveling companions for the next three days on the Mana Canoe trail. After a safety briefing and signing indemnity wavers, we drive down to the inlet, sort out our gear and climb into the canoes. John and I are in one canoe, Debbie and Jessica in another and our guides, Henry and Matthew pair up with Laura and Helen, one taking the lead and the other bringing up the rear.  For the first time in days, John is impatient with me when I cause our canoe to spin backwards and navigate us against the bank. Although John may differ in his opinion, I soon learn the art of paddling and once out on the river the going is easy and we paddle with the current on the wide and gentle river. We glide past hundreds of hippos basking on the river banks and immense crocodiles slip shyly from the edge of the muddy banks into the river as we pass by. The hippos also take to the water and dozens of hippos taking a plunge together is an immense splash, sounding like a near-bye waterfall or impending rapids. Earlier today we learned that one must not come between a hippo and its deep water channel but we are far out in the middle of the river and in little danger of having our canoes capsized by a hippo and becoming a crocodile snack.

John Canoeing the Zambezi River

Hippos along the bank of the Zambezi River

Evening paddle on the Zambezi River

Arriving at our first tented camp

Several hours later, around a bend in the river, we see our first campsite pitched high on the embankment.  We beach our canoes and climb the bank to inspect our home for the night. Four two bedded tents are erected along the embankment, each with a riverside view. Each tent has a back door zipper that opens onto a triangular canvas enclosure, open at the top with a gravity fill shower suspended on poles. Within minutes, the camp crew pours hot water into our shower bag and John and I take turns washing off the day’s river grime. The floor to our shower annex is mesh so that the shower run off can seep into the ground and a small metal pot sits conspicuously in one corner.  I soon learn that this pot is for any nighttime necessities, although there is a more than adequate out house, complete with a real toilet seat, for our daylight needs. The outhouse is enclosed on three sides with a view of the river below.  A white tin cup sits on a peg at the entrance to the toilet.  When the cup is on the peg, the outhouse is vacant and the protocol is to remove the cup, step inside and take care of business, not forgetting to admire the view.  A pile of sand sits alongside the toilet and we are instructed to scoop up a cup of sand and scatter it down the hole to cover our waste; exit and replace the white cup on the peg for the next person. After years of using port-a-potties at the art festivals, this is 5 star camping.

Our Tent Camp

John inside our Tent

The Out House

It is past dusk when we have showered and dressed and walk to the fire circle. Carlie is our camp hostess and takes our drink orders.  I usually stick to wine, but two of the four doctors order gin and tonics and I recall an earlier conversation today when the doctors were advocating gin and quinine as the traditional drink for Africa.  Not wanting to ignore doctor’s orders, I too request a gin and tonic. Carlie is in her early 20’s and charmingly orchestrates the fireside conversation, passing hors d’oeuvers and refilling drink orders until dinner is formally announced by our camp chef, complete with white chef’s hat.  We dine under the stars at a candle lit table adorned with leaves. The pork chop, potato, peas and carrot dinner is remarkable and the wine flows freely, followed by a custard dessert.  At some point during dinner paper votive bags, weighted with sand, have been place around the camp and these votive sacks illuminate the pathway to our tents.  

The Camp Cook and Kitchen

Sundowners at Camp

Day Two-Mana Canoe Trail. We wake up at 6:00 A.M. to the sound of water being poured into a portable canvas basin outside of our tent.  John and I dress quickly and as I am washing my face in the warm water, I trip on a leg of the tripod to the basin and spill the water onto the ground.  No harm is done, but I feel badly, since an obvious effort was made to provide us with hot water for our morning wash.  We are on the river by 7:00 A.M; canoeing alongside the hippos and crocodiles on this beautiful  morning. At 9:30 we head to shore to stretch our legs and take a bush walk. We see impala, water buck, strangler figs and termite mounds. We learn that a certain moth lays its larva in the dead antlers of antelope and the larva feed on the keratin. We learn about the cambium layer of the trees that contains xylem and phloem that distributes nutrients to the tree. I wonder if there will be a test? 

Sunrise Dragonfly

Morning Eland

A Pod of Hippos

Stork in Flight

Lunch Break

Aground on a Sandbar

Canoeing the Zambezi River

The Hippo Obstacle Course – Day Three -Mana Canoe Trail. We wake to the sound of our canvas washstands being filled with hot water and a gentle knock on the canvas of our tent. It is 6:00 A.M. and the sun has not yet risen.  I dress quickly, wake John and we move groggily from our tent to the warmth of the fire circle. Carlie is waiting and quickly rises, offering us coffee. We have finally resigned ourselves to being waited on and gratefully accept hot tin mugs of brewed coffee, fixed to our likings. We stand by the fire, drink the coffee and watch a sliver of sun pierce the horizon, rise and seemingly float, a glowing red ball, against the grey dawn. Breakfast is an array of hot and cold cereals, fruit salad, toast and muffins. At 7:03, bundled tightly against the cold, we have all climbed into the four tiered, safari vehicle for a morning game drive. We are lucky today and first off, come to a large bull elephant who gives us quite a show, standing on his hind feet with raised trunk to pull off acacia branches from a tree. A smaller male follows him, picking up left over branches that the bull leaves behind. The smaller male poops and pees for our entertainment and we are all very amazed by the length of his extended penis that reaches the ground. Our guides see a Cape buffalo herd in the distance; we drive closer, park the vehicle and approach in single file, flanked on either end by our two armed guides.  A lone bull buffalo, standing away from his herd, watches us warily.  Henry watches back, gathers us in a tight circle and after several minutes, instructs me to lead the retreat, single file back behind a large termite mound.  We continue our drive towards two of the four Mana Pools, several miles inland from the Zambezi River and fed by the river through underground springs. The first of the pools is blanketed with water hyacinths and a troupe of baboons sit at the shoreline, picking and gnawing the lush foliage. A second, much larger pool, further inland, is more arid and large crocodiles bask on the sandy bank and hippos muck about in the center. We see herds of Impala, families of shy wart hogs and countless birds.

Bull Elephant

Very Male Elephant

Cape Buffalo

Returning to our campsite, we find it gone and Carlie watching over our luggage and today’s picnic supplies. Left unattended, the baboons would make off with these things. Yesterday’s camp has already been dismantled and is moving in the truck by the support team of five and I expect that the new camp will be set up when we arrive later this afternoon. Carlie will drive the safari vehicle down to tonight’s campsite while we paddle the canoes downriver. I am expecting another relaxed and uneventful paddle, but Henry and Matthew are looking anxiously at the river. Apparently a dam has been closed and the river is much lower today which may present some navigational problems. We push off in our four canoes, following the lead canoe closely as Matthew seeks out channels deep enough for our canoes to navigate. The change of water level has disrupted the hippos since their familiar, deep water pools are now too shallow for them and they are moving to other parts of the river. We know that we must not come between a hippo and deep water or it will feel cornered and in an effort to reach the safety of deeper water, it may charge and injure or kill you. I have no desire to infringe on hippo territory, but today, deep water is at a premium and we must somehow navigate down-stream. Pods of hippos are everywhere, both in the river and basking on the river banks. As we near, they plunge into the river for safety, their combined splashes as loud as a significant waterfall. Depending on what guide book one reads, hippos can stay underwater between 6-10 minutes, so Matthew in the lead canoe, must watch, time and wait for them to surface in order to know their whereabouts. At one point, there is no hippo safe channel for us to paddle on the Zimbabwe side of the river and we must paddle upstream and around a large sandbar to access a channel on the far side of the river. The river is not terribly swift, but I am anxious about this maneuver and grateful to have John’s paddling power to propel us upstream. When we reach the up-river end of the sand bar we reverse directions, traveling again with the current, but the water is less than a foot deep and it isn’t long before all of the canoes go aground. Our guides, John and Laura all get out, wade, and pull the canoes off the sand bars and into deeper water. Although the water is quite shallow, I worry that one of the many large crocodiles we have sighted, may be lurking out of sight and take a bite out of someone’s feet. For several hours we are challenged by unsettled pods of hippos, sand bars and crocodile worries. I am looking forward to relaxing at lunch stop, but when we near the usual site, it is occupied by a lone bull hippo. As anticipated, he plunges into the water and we wait the appropriate amount of time in order to determine his whereabouts in the river and safely beach our canoes. We are entertained during our lunch break by a territorial fight between the bull hippo we chased from our picnic spot and another bull hippo already in the river. Our picnic site is only 10 feet above the river and the hippo challenge is less than 20 feet from the shore.  I caution John to stand back, worried that the defeated male may take to land, but our guides seem confident that it is safe to observe them from above.  They rise, clash and roar, submerge, rise and clash and roar in another spot and repeat this sequence for nearly 15 minutes.

Tent Camp on the Zambezi River

The afternoon paddle is relatively easy and we arrive at our final campsite at 5:30 P.M, just as the sun is setting.  After showering in our gravity filled shower stalls, we sit by the campfire, enjoy “sundowner’s” and listen to our guides tell hippo stories; ones that would not have been advisable to hear, prior to the end of our trip.  Eventually, Carlie places a grill on top of the coals and barbeques long coils of sausages, steaks and chops.  Having enjoyed fine spirits during our sundowner hour, we are all in good spirits and enjoy our final dinner together.

Marty and John Sunset on the Zambezi River Hippo Trivia: What we have learned about Hippos to date is that they are very dangerous and cause more deaths in Africa than any other animal. They are shy and have poor eyesight and breeding females are very protective of their calves and the bull hippos, protective of their females.  Although they spend much of the day mucking around in the river and basking on the river banks, at night, they wander inland to graze and the males mark their territory with massive sprays of dung. They eject their feces and at the same time, vibrate their tails at top speed to spray the dung over as wide an area as possible; the shit literally hits the fan. Over 1200 hippos were counted at the last hippo census, along this 80 kilometer stretch of the Mana Pool National Park and their grunts, gurgles and territorial roars are the music of the river. We know that we must not come between a hippo and deep water or it will feel cornered and in an effort to reach the safety of deeper water, it may charge and injure or kill you.      Mana Pools to Victoria Falls –July 3, 2011.  Our wake up knock is not until 7:00 A.M; we dress and pack quickly and sit by the morning camp fire enjoying our final mugs of coffee along the Mana Canoe Trail. Last night, three tip envelops were placed on our camp cots and I give one each to our guides, Matthew and Henry, thanking them profusely for their part in our experience. I give the third envelope to Carlie who will distribute the amount between the 5 support crew members. The support crew is busily breaking down camp, even as we finish our breakfast. After breakfast, we take a morning game walk from our campsite, following the single file protocol and see the usual impala, wart hogs and water buck, grazing in the early morning light. An hour later, Carlie intersects our walking route, picks us up in the safari vehicle, reuniting us with our luggage and takes us to the bush airstrip to wait for our plane. It is no surprise to see an elephant grazing on the runway and Carlie roars the engine, establishing our dominance, and the elephant spins towards us, flaps its ears and makes a backwards retreat into the hide of trees. The other four guests are also flying out, but to a different destination and we wait together, in the still morning heat, alongside, the red dirt airstrip. Their small aircraft arrives first and we listen hopefully for another plane. Ours eventually arrives, but an hour late with a father and son already on board, having just come from Richimuchi. We are squeezed into the tiny plane, take off land to refuel at Kariba, take off land again at______, finally arriving at the Victoria Falls airport at 2:30 P.M.

Cheetah

Day Three at Ruckomechi Camp

When I awake, I find a small toad in the bathroom, so my game drive starts earlier than anticipated. I catch it gently and place it on John’s pillow as a morning surprise but even though he loves amphibians during waking hours, he grumbles crossly and pulls the covers over his head. I release the toad outside, but not before it has peed all over me.

Cheetah

We have a private morning game drive with Kevin and immediately sight two honey badgers leaping across the road, having been caught out late (or early) as they head for the safety of their borough. They have a wide white stripe along their backs and look somewhat like a cross between a skunk, a sloth and a badger. Our sighting is brief, but impressive and we learn that the honey badger is a member of the mustelidae family (weasel) and is a fierce predator with powerful jaws and claws. Moments later, two slender mongoose race across the road, making this the third species of mongoose that we have seen on our trip so far. We have seen the white tailed mongoose on our night drives and several days ago we watched a troupe of dwarf mongoose scurrying for the safety of their boroughs.  Prior to this trip, mongoose were not on my radar, but I am quite amused by them and am not surprised to find that they are related to the  meerkak. Did you know that a meerkat is a mongoose, but a mongoose is not a meerkat? We have our best zebra sighting to date and watch a small group of these elegantly striped equines graze at the edge of the scrub forest.  We see the backside of many skittish warthogs, their tails pointing straight up as they jog their retreat into the brush and John jokes that their tails are the antenna for a remote control and twiddles his fingers in a well rehearsed pantomime.  This morning is rich in game and we see eland and kudu and herds of the ever present impala.

Curious Impala

Zebra Herd

Monkey Business

Foraging in a Misty Forest

John up in a Hollow Tree

During today’s siesta break, I write and John sits in a canvass deck chair reading Jurassic Park and drinking a beer.  18 is the legal age in Zimbabwe and Zambia, and I am doing my best not to be too much of a mother.  John has never been an avid reader but this is his second book of the trip. For graduation, his sister, Alisha, gave him Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas, and without the distractions of television and the internet he zipped through that book. When I glance across at John, I am struck with the perfection of the moment; my son, now a young man absorbed in his reading, the Zambezi River reflecting the afternoon sunlight and the inundating cacophony of bird song and hippo grunts.  

Lunch with Tom, Mary and Michael

Writing my Blog at Ruckomechi

Earlier today, cheetahs were sited on the concession and it is Kevin’s agenda to find the two cats. During break, he has communicated with other guides and he apparently has an idea of their whereabouts. After bumping along the dirt road for 30 minutes, we come to an abrupt halt and he points at two cheetahs, lounging 30 meters away, at the edge of the underbrush, overlooking the road and the clearing beyond. One rests on a slight rise, somewhat obscured by a rotting log and a clump of brush and the other is behind the mound, with only his ears visible. Initially it is exciting to watch them, but their only movements are the flip of a tail, or a turn of a head.  Kevin has a powerful zoom on his camera and I suspect would prefer to wait patiently for a spectacular shot but after watching for nearly an hour in the fading light, John and I are ready to move on.

We stop for our sundowners in a pretty Mopani forest, golden with slanted afternoon sunlight; continuing afterwards on a chilly and unmemorable night drive. It is our last night at Ruckomichi camp and the dinner of roast pork, potatoes and grilled vegetables is excellent but the evening winds down early. We are all a little subdued and although there are new guests at the camp, Claire the geologist has a cold and the elderly newlywed couple head for the privacy of their tent.

Sunset over the Zambezi