Xugana Lodge: Part 1 - Going Up River
Trip Start
Jul 16, 2004
1
6
11
Trip End
Aug 01, 2004
Okavango Delta,
Botswana
Wednesday, July 21, 2004
I woke up this morning feeling really pretty awful, sure that I would be the first on one of these wildlife safaris to die of malaria - only two days into the trip. In my early morning delirium, I thought that if I had to die, it would be pretty cool to go out while on safari in Africa. But getting up, having a bowl of oatmeal and a cup of coffee and getting out on the game trail helped to get me over myself and into my surroundings - Africa demands her toll on the pampered western traveler, and I am glad to pay mine. Besides, I needed to get my carcass out of the tent anyway as the crew struck camp this morning to leap-frog us and have camp set up for our return on Friday to the western edge of the Moremi Game Reserve along the Kwai River Valley. I've felt steadily better all day.
One decision has definitely been made however, the $150 dollars worth of malaria pills I've got are going to go to waste - unless someone wants to buy them. Any takers out there? Brand new in-the-box Malaprone malaria meds for sale at a bargain price; contact the author for further details. Guaranteed to make you feel like crap. Actually, I can't guarantee that, I can only guarantee that they'll make me feel like crap.
But I do feel much better this evening, and I think my suspicions of the Malaprone are now borne out.
This morning Jayne and I rode in Alwyn's truck with Bill Abbott and his eighteen year old daughter Nicole, or Nicky. Bill is an avid photographer and may very well win the award for taking the most shots this trip - though we're all going to give him a run for his money (assuming I can acquire more film). Nicky is a tall, slender young woman, with a pretty face and a quiet demeanor. As we rode out of camp, Jayne talked with Nicky about her upcoming freshman year in college, and I picked Bill's brain about running Wilderness Travel.
Our morning game drive was a little abbreviated due to our need to get going on the long boat ride, but we did see some giraffe on our way out of camp and later spent time studying a herd of buffalo (African Cape Buffalo to be exact) on the way to the boat station.
I can see all you sophisticated urban types rolling your eyes; "Oh my, studying a herd of buffalo, how terribly exciting; that sounds just marvelous - next he's going to start talking about the subtle nuances of elephant dung!"
Well, the elephant dung thing may come later, so sit tight; and if you haven't studied a herd of buffalo in the African wilderness before, don't knock it! It's actually about more than just watching the buffalo stand there chewing their cud staring back at you with a motionless intensity. There's actually a lot going on when buffalo chew their cud and stare at you staring at them. For instance, this morning there where signs that the herd was being stalked by lion (our lion friends from yesterday perhaps - or even most likely). The buffalo perceive this sense of danger and group themselves for maximum protection. The bigger males take up position on the outside of the group, with the younger animals and females bunched up in the middle. When a lion attacks, they will go for the slower and weaker. Any animal that gets away from the herd is very likely doomed. The big adult males guard the perimeter, and the females guard the young animals standing in the center of the herd. And somewhere close by and unseen are the lion watching the buffalo - and the humans. As the morning sun grows higher in the sky, the chances that the lion will make any move before twilight diminish.
I personally think it's good for a human's soul to get out of their technology and advertising driven lives, full of plastic, over-consumption, meaningless distraction, and noise, to quietly watch nature working. Yes, it does mean sitting still for a time - but it's good for you. Instead of watching some inane, entirely unrealistic reality TV crap, go out and watch some real reality. Oops! I seem to have stumbled onto a soapbox there for a second or two, I promise that won't happen again until the next time... See what happens when my brain isn't muddled by malaria medication?
Anyway, our boat ride up river was both interesting and uniquely restful and even inspiring; giving a real sense of the Okavango Delta. In case I haven't mentioned it before, the Okavango Delta is the largest inland delta system in the world. Fed by the wet season runoff from the highlands of Angola, the delta spreads out in northwestern Botswana into a maze of channels, islands, and lagoons - all disappearing into the sands of the Kalahari, its southern-most point around Maun, where we started our safari.
From the boat station, our expert boat driver headed northwest as we settled into our little aluminum river cruiser, easily accommodating the nine of us (Stanley is staying behind for this portion of the trip and will meet up with us on Friday when we fly back downriver). The boat had an aluminum canopied top suitable for teenagers - and eventually Jayne - to go up top and sun themselves. I settled myself in a jumper seat that rode low in the water near the bow. Stretching my feet out in front of me, the spray from the bow got the sides of my shoes wet, but I didn't care. I fancied myself as some intrepid explorer on safari in the African interior; going upriver to an exotic and remote camp to explore the wilderness. Which was all true, of course, except for the "intrepid explorer" part.
Soon after leaving the boat station, the wide lagoon narrowed into a series of inlets and narrow channels, lined with tall reeds, papyrus, hibiscus, and the occasional crocodile; water chestnut and water lily dotted the channel.
Game viewing wasn't prime, given our position low on the water and surrounded by the tall reeds of the delta, but an elephant is still pretty hard to miss. We spied some elephants feeding close by as we pulled onto a suitable landing spot amidst the reeds for some in the party to disembark for a pee-break (after Alwyn had checked the area and given the all-clear, of course). A little further down, we spotted an adolescent male feeding alone on the other side of the channel from where we saw the group during our pit stop. We slowly pulled the boat into the reeds and cut the engine near him to get a closer look. Jayne was at the tip of the bow, then Nancy and I right behind, all taking pictures and acting as respectful as humanly possible. The elephant continued to feed, but was also moving closer to the boat and eyeing us suspiciously. When he was only thirty or so yards away from the boat, he suddenly decided to let us know who was boss. He abruptly lifted his trunk, shook his ears, and charged the boat. A rush of adrenalin surged through my veins as I stood motionless in preparation for the elephant's wrath, Nancy pushed behind me in a startled rush, Jayne ducked, and the boat driver calmly started the engine and waited. What the others did I have no idea as my focus was intent on the tons of elephant moving in our direction.
Most often, an elephant rushing you is just a feint; just stand your ground - yeah, right! No really! They usually have no intention of following through with their charge (unless you're being incredibly stupid and really pissing the animal off), as the message is sent and received long before actual elephant contact occurs. Still, the elephant weighs more than the boat and all the people on it combined, and it was made abundantly clear that our presence right there wasn't making our friend happy. We slowly backed out, our driver remaining calm throughout the encounter. Alwyn deduced that our boy was with the group we had seen earlier on the other side of the channel, and had crossed by himself to take advantage of feeding opportunities. We backed up out of sight and Alwyn promised that if we waited quietly, we'd see the elephant cross the channel to catch up with his mates. Sure enough, a few minutes later he came across, looking as if the channel were a mere wading pool, to join up with his group.
Dan had the video camera with him up top on the boat and got the whole thing in full motion, including his mother running for cover. It was good for a chuckle for all as we moved off up river to find a suitable spot for lunch.
Soon after, we found a little island perfect to set up our lunch, and I do mean "little"; a dry spot of land about 30 feet by 50 feet. Someone inquired whether we should be on the lookout for crocodile that may also be in the mood for a little lunch (no doubt leaving the sandwiches and salad in favor of the goofy humans). Alwyn said there weren't any crocs around. One thing that is essential for the safety and enjoyment of a safari is placing your faith in your guide, and this was a perfect example. If Alwyn say there aren't any croc around, then break out the ham and swiss and let's have lunch!
After lunch Alwyn challenged Nicky, Scott, and Dan for a little race through the water. Scott and Dan needed a little (a lot actually) of encouragement to get in over their ankles, but they eventually did. After much splashing and running and laughing, Alwyn emerged from the contest thoroughly soaked. If there had been crocs around, they would surely have been scared off by the commotion.
Soon we were off again for the three hour ride left to us until reaching Xugana. We all settled in to our spots, most of us dozing off for a nap.
I settled into my bow end jump seat, spread out, my feet just inches from the water as it rushed by and was soon falling into a woozy dreamlike state, my head occasionally bobbing against my chest as I lost control of both my muscles and my imagination...
The river cruiser headed up stream through the dense and fetid jungle. The captain looked at Kurtz saying "My orders tell me that I'm not to know where we're headed, and I don't... But one look at you and I know it's going to be hot"
Suddenly my head would bounce against my chest and I'd be jerked back into reality. A reality of warm afternoon sun on my shoulders, tall, golden reeds and papyrus rushing by on either side of a narrow channel, the wind in my face, and water lapping at the souls of my boots. I looked behind at my safari mates, either napping or idly watching the delta rush by. Sometime you are fortunate enough to realize a special moment while you are still in it. Able to savor the feeling, an immense sensation of gratitude and happiness washes over you. I smiled and turned my face to the wind. Happy and grateful.
