(Graeme Young)
The Drakensberg, that's the first place we took the Hemphills on their one month stay in South Africa. They were on a Round-The-world tour by the way. The second full day in The Drakensberg we took the Hemphills on a long hike up the mountain to see the view of the whole Amphitheater and it was the best. Unfortunately on the way down from the peak Jack picked up this funny purple root like an onion. He played with it for ten minutes, until his hands turned red and began to itch and burn.
(Jim)
This morning we headed west along the Bushmans River (we'd call it a creek back in Pennsylvania) in search of a good spot for a panorama of the Drakensberg. After crossing the river three times, the ladies decided to head back with the small boys and James. Gavin and I continued with the large boys and Katharine.
For those unfamiliar with my psychology, I have a pretty severe fear of heights combined with open spaces - classic agoraphobia. The single place I am unhappiest on the planet is the peak of a mountain. Thus I bailed out about two-thirds of the way up the last round hill before the escarpment of the Drakensberg, and never got to take my desired panoramic photograph of the entire magnificent escarpment. The two large boys, Graeme and Jack, scampered ahead, pursued by Gavin. Katharine, complaining of knee pain and fatigue, wanted to head down and soak her feet in the stream.
The three mountaineers (Gavin, Graeme and Jack) dwindled in the distance and then disappeared completely. We'd agreed before parting from the ladies that we'd turn back by 3:50 p.m. By 4:10, I was getting worried, and also feeling both cowardly and irresponsible to have let one adult go ahead alone with two kids. There was no sign of the three higher on the hill. I had visions of Gavin having fallen into a chasm on the other side of the ridge, and was steeling myself to conquer my fear of the mountain and scamper up for a rescue mission. Just then, three minute dots appeared on the ridgeline. Pulling Katharine from the water, we headed up and met them partway down. All were exhilarated by the climb and the awesome scenery. From the hilltop they had seen the entire central Drakensberg range spread out before them, from Bannerman to The Thumb. Gavin had taken some amazing pictures of the entire escarpment, shown below.
On the way back, Jack ignored our rule about not killing plants and pulled a tumourous-looking purple tuber out of the ground. He stuck his hands into the fetid muck inside and refused to throw it away...until his hands began to burn and turn red. We washed his hands in the river, but it did not help. Within minutes, he was reduced to a wailing, itching mess, with tears and snot mingling on his face. It was a solid half hour's walk back to the lodge, with Jack wailing the whole way.
On returning to the lodge, we treated Jack with anti-histamines, soapy water and ice, then hurried down to Reception for help with our bushveld emergency, hoping to buy or borrow some pain-relieving cortisone cream.
Not only was there no first aid kit, here in a mountain lodge at the edge of a wilderness hiking area, but the folks at Reception seemed astonished at the very thought. Fortunately, Yvette's drug regimen was kicking in and Jack was calming down, though still upset at the whole experience, and swearing never to venture out of the lodge and into the bush again - hence his wholly inappropriate rant below.
A sidebar: Since he was a baby, Jack has had an issue with sticking things in his mouth, from sand to rocks to leaves of unknown plants. He's been better lately. I pointed out to him that it might easily have been a poisonous leaf in his mouth instead of an itchy root on his hands, with potentially fatal consequences. In a sense, this was a cheap warning. The incident may finally have made a necessary impression about the dangers of unrestrained contact with unknown vegetation. With several rain forests still to come on the Asian leg of our trip, one can only hope.
(Jack)
I'm never leaving the lodge again.
What kind of Game Park doesn't even have a first-aid kit? I want a lawyer.
This game lodge is just a rather large pile of rotting rubble.
I said, "I have the money to hire a lawyer to sue your oversized smelly pants off!"
Enough of these "legal" complications, I will hire a few Mafia members, Soviet secret policemen, professional bounty hunters, assassins, and some expert botanists to destroy that plant!
A note about the title of this post: Unless you were born or raised in South Africa, the title probably means nothing to you. But if you spent any part of your childhood in South Africa, you surely know Sir Percy Fitz-Patrick's classic tale of a penniless young immigrant and his fearless dog, Jock of the Bushveld. It remains one of my favorite books from my own childhood. The book tells the true story of the author's adventures with his mongrel dog Jock, working as a hunter and teamster in the high veldt at the end of the 19th century, when Boers and Englishmen were opening up all of Southern Africa. One of the best kids books ever.
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