Kenyan Safari - continued

From Samburu we travel on to Lake Nakuru.

Zebras roam near our camp ground as we set up our tents. The trees have green trunks. The baboons strip away and eat the soft bark of the trees. The exposed trunks turn green in the sunlight.




Beyond the trees, a wide open plain extends around the lake. Many rhinos, buffaloes, zebras and a few hyenas, warthogs and ostriches roam the area. Near the edge of the lake is a wide flat area of dry salt-encrusted mud. In the shallow water there are hundreds of flamingos and pelicans. It is the wrong time of the year. At other times the lake can be covered with tens of thousands of flamingos.

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Between parks we stop briefly at Thompson's Falls. The water flows down like the hair of a young girl. It drops into a pool like endless tears of sorrow.

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At Lake Naivasha, Kenya, We don bright orange life jackets and board the low, narrow motor boat. Our pilot and guide has a happy smile. He introduces himself as Captain Joseph and proudly points to the laminated name tag pinned to his chest with the words "CAPT JOSEPH" printed thereon.

He sits in the back of the boat, starts the motor and takes us out onto the lake. The heavy rains have stopped but the sky is still dark and ominous. The water is dull and slightly murky. I zip up my light rain coat against the cool breeze created by our movement.

We approach a cluster of hippopotamus. Hippopotamusses? Hippopotomi? We approach a cluster of hippos. About thirty of them huddled close together about ten metres from the shore of the lake. The top of their backs, nostrils, eyes and ears above the surface. They jostle each other, snuffling and snorting and occassionally yawning.

Captain Joseph stops the boat engine as we approach.

"The hippopotamus is not the aggressor. Man is the aggressor." explains Captain Joseph. "The hippopotamus, they are sleeping. One is awake and watches for all the others. The hippopotamus sleeps all day."

"At night they come out of the water to grass. They don't just grass for one hour or two hours. They are grassing the whole night."

"This is as close as we can get. It is not safe to go closer. But the hippopotamus is not the aggressor. Man is the aggressor. See the baby hippopotamus. It is climbing on the mother's back.'

He starts the engine again and moves the boat a little closer. The sleeping hippos watch us attentively.

We head for a different part of the lake and come across another cluster of hippos. Captain Joseph stops the boat engine as we approach. Apart from the background scenery, this group of hippos is pretty much the same as the last.

"The hippopotamus, they are sleeping. One is awake and watches for all the others." explains Captain Joseph.

"The hippopotamus sleeps all day. At night they come out of the water to grass. They don't just grass for one hour or two hours. They are grassing the whole night."

"This is as close as we can get. It is not safe to go closer. But the hippopotamus is not the aggressor. Man is the aggressor."

"How fast are the hippopotamus?" someone asks.

"Not as fast as this boat" Captain Joseph says with a smile.

The engine doesn't start immediately but after the second attempt we are on our way again. We come across another group of hippos. Captain Joseph repeats his spiel on hippo habits.

They main point he wishes to convey is that the hippopotamus is not the aggressor. Man is the aggressor.

We travel to the end of the lake as the air gets colder and the dark clouds drift closer. We land at a pier at the back of Elsamere, the property and home of the late Joy Adamson, author of "Born Free".

We look at the memorabilia around the house. Joy was murdered by a disgruntled former employee. Years later Joy's husband was murdered trying to protect a tourist from poachers. Man is the aggressor.

We watch a video about Joy's life. It is like hundreds of documentaries of Africa I have seen before but I watch it with new eyes. Now, I recognise everything. Yes, that is how the giraffe walks among the tea-bag trees. That is how the jackal creeps through the tall grass, glancing furtively around. How the impala run and leap in herds. How the baby elephant stays close to its lumbering mother. How the flamingo lifts its wings as it stands in the shallow salty water beneath the clear sky while zebra and rhinoceros roam on the nearby plains in front of trees with green trunks because the baboons have stripped them of their bark.

The video ends with Joy seated in the gardens of Elsamere, surrounded by trees and the sounds of birds. The tape segues into reality as I hear the same bird sounds outside the window. The same trees under the same sky.

---

Victor, our guide, asks us if we can give a lift to two rangers who need to get back to their station. Of course we agree. The rangers will take us to the river to see hippopotamus and crocodiles and they will expect a tip for doing so.

The hippos huddled close together in the brown river water. They jostle each other, snuffling and snorting and occasionally yawning.

The ranger shows us some lion footprints that have dried in the mud near the bank of the river.

We saw a lioness a few days ago at a distance but we all long to see the great cats up close. I half hope to come across one on this path. This is a foolish wish because it would be a dangerous encounter with us on foot. The ranger might have to shoot at it and I would hate to see the animal killed. It would be far better to see them from the safety of the vehicle.

What do I really hope for? I wonder. I let the thought go. The cat is there or it is not and my wishes on the matter won't change that. I remain vigilant and enjoy the excitement of possibilities as fate unfolds.

We walk downstream from the hippos to see twenty to thirty crocodiles lazing in the water by the river bank. They look like so many logs of wood that have drifted to the river edge, except for one or two that drift by their own volition.

The ranger tells of his job protecting the park from poachers. The poachers sneak in from Tanzania seeking rhinoceroses. Rhinoceros? Rhinoceri? Rhinos. In Tanzania the poachers have exterminated most of the rhinos. The rhinos roam over large areas that are hard to manage.

In Kenya the rhinos roam in smaller areas that are better protected. The poachers sneak over the border at night but the have to look out for the rangers. If the ranger catches them he will get a reward.

The ranger has caught many poachers. It is dangerous work. Usually they surrender and he arrests them. Sometimes he has to shoot them.

"Shoot them? And kill them?" a girl asks with alarm.

"Yes" the ranger says "of course." He seems surprised that we would question the situation and the obvious need to kill the poachers.

A serious look comes over his face. "They are bad people."

Samburu NP Kenya

We drive North from Nairobi.

Our safari vehicle is half bus, half truck. The upper half of the windows slide down for sight seeing. It is built for rough African roads.

The landscape is hilly with rich, fertile soil. The local people smile at us and wave as we pass. Outside the city, Only the tourists have white faces. The children are especially animated and are easily excited. The run after our bus shouting, "Hello. Hello hello." craving attention.

As we approach Samburu National Park the children add other hand signals to their waves. One child makes a writing motion in the air. Another raises his fingertips twice to his mouth.

The land is dry and dusty. Acacia trees grow wide with flat tops. They draw the eyes to the horizontal and encourage a panoramic view.

Dozens of weaver birds nests hang in each tree. Balls of straw - Michael calls them "tea-bag trees". Newer nests are a light colour. Others, abandoned from seasons past, are various shades of grey.



By the park gates the people build dome shaped huts from dry wood branches. The gaps are filled with leaves, old cloth and plastic bags. They look like weaver birds nests. I think of Jo saying, "We can learn a lot from nature."

We stop at the gate and children run up to the vehicle waving. "Hello, Hello" they say.

"Hello. Jambo," we reply.

"Take my photo for twenty shillings" a young girl says.

"Do you have coins? Do you have chocolate?" a young boy asks.

"No. Only smiles and waves."

"Do you have banana?" he asks.

Well it just so happens that I do have a banana left over from lunch. I saved it in case I got peckish but I am rather indifferent towards eating it. And it's healthy fruit - not diabetes inducing chocolate.

So I give it to the boy and he runs off with a big smile on his face. In the next minute there are a dozen more children asking for bananas, chocolate and money.

We drive on and stop at another point.

A young boy runs up to the truck. "Hello. Hello. Hello" he says.

"Hello. Jambo." we reply.

"Hello. Hello." he repeats.

"Jambo. Hello" we repeat.

He pauses, struggling with his limited vocabulary. "Give me money?" he says.

Most of us burst out laughing at his boldness.

"No." I say. "No money. Only smiles and waves."

He doesn't like this answer and his smile is replaced by a scowl. As we drive away he makes new hand signals. Although I don't know what they mean his attitude suggests they are offensive.

For a while I am uncomfortable with his reaction. It undoes all the good will of the Kenyan people. Is this what the people think? Do they smile and wave to get a reward but curse us when we are not looking?

No, I decide. This boy is just displaying the petulance of youth. I can imagine my own nephews behaving the same way at the same age.

My personal theory is the waving started because the Kenyans are culturally inclined to stare at a passer by. The westerners are inclined to meet this gaze and make eye contact. The westerner then waves to break the discomfort of staring.

The Kenyans pick up the habit. The children especially enjoy the interaction and hold on to this friendliness as they grow up.

But I think the reasons why they wave goes beyond this.

They wave because they recognise the importance of tourism to their country. They are proud that we have journeyed so far to visit them. We remind them that they are part of a larger world. And they wave out of hospitality, because in Swahili the word for 'stranger' is the same word used for 'guest'.

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I think I should also make a few remarks on begging. There was an attitude among travellers decades ago that instead of giving coins to begging children it was better to give them sweets. This gave way to a tradition of giving pens for school. Now children the world over ask for money, sweets and pens.

Countries like Vietnam and Thailand discourage tourists from giving things to beggars. They don't want their children to grow up as beggers. (Although I'm not entirely sure if this is about the welfare of the individuals or because of the impact on the tourism industry.)

In Vietnam, children sell "friendship" bracelets which are little more than strips of cloth with a tie string. These are sold for a pittance. This makes the difference between a beggar and a salesperson.

There is the additional problem that the successful beggar exploits the emotions by appearing as needful and pathetic as possible. This makes it difficult to tell the truly needy people from the con artists.

Therefore it can be more effective to give money to charities that will distribute it where it is needed.

All the same, it is important to respond to the situations you find yourself in. So I am glad I gave that boy a banana and I regret that I didn't give that girl twenty shillings to take her photograph.


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We camp by a dry river bed. Baboons circle the fringes of the camp and clamber in the tree branches overhead, watching and waiting for a moment when they can raid unattended food supplies.

We chase away the occasional attacker with yells and waving sticks but one of them manages to escape with a small packet of biscuits.

Over the next few days we travel through the park and marvel at the herds of elephants, zebras, giraffe, antelope.

In Africa they speak of the "big five: - elephant, buffalo, rhino, lion and leopard. This list was compiled as the five animals that are the hardest to hunt and kill, back in the days when this was important.

I compile my own list - the underrated five. Why aren't these on a list? I choose giraffe, zebra, hippopotamus, antelope and for fifth place I settle on the warthog, but in the following week I will replace it with the wildebeest.

Antelope is a large category with many varieties: springbok, kudus, Grant's gazelle, Thompson's gazelle, dik dik, impala, topi, waterbuck, etc.

When fully grown, dik diks are about twice the size of a house cat. They always travel in mating pairs, occasionally accompanied by a youngster.

Topi look like they are carved out of redwood with hindquarters of polished blue-black ebony. They stand guard on small mounds always on the look out for predators.



Samburu has a few animals specific to the region. Grevey's zebra have thinner stripes that taper to a point and don't extent under their white bellies. Reticulated giraffes have fine lines separating their spots.

We come across a cheetah which is attracting the attention of a lot of safari vehicles. We follow it by dirt road as it walks through the grass with a slight limp. It is injured. One of its hind legs is red raw. Our tour guide doesn't think it will live much longer. It will soon fall prey to other animals.

Giraffe, elephants and antelope wander across the dry river bed, Scattered groups of animals here and there and off into the distance.

The rangers have dug a watering hole for the animals. The giraffe and antelope approach cautiously to drink. They don't see the lioness crouched in the shade of a fallen tree trunk on the far side of the river.



The lioness waits patiently but the gap is too great. If she attacks they will outrun her. She can wait for evening or night when she has more of an advantage. She can certainly out-wait us as we look at her through binoculars on the off-chance that she decides to move.

Eventually we give up.

Interlude - Mourning

My heart fell when I read the email. I had had a bad network connection when I was in Nairobi and couldn't access my email so the news was a week old.

I met Tanja when she was about fifteen or sixteen. I guess I was about nineteen or twenty. For the next five or eight years - the band years - we travelled in the same social circles. We were friends, her friends and my friends.

Maybe you remember her and if so you could only have good memories. Maybe you never met her. Or maybe you knew her better than me and your grief is much deeper than mine. I'm sorry for your pain.

Tanja and her husband died in the bushfires. I'm sitting alone in the Aisha Hotel outdoor bar in Moshi Tanzania crying over an amarula on ice while George Michael is singing about how he's never gonna dance again.

I wish I was with you, my friends. I wish I could go to the funeral and talk about "Remember when" and we could support each other in our grief.

I feel as if a colour has been permanently erased from the rainbow or like there's a fruit I can no longer taste or a flower that no longer has a fragrance. It's the feeling of losing something unique, precious and irreplaceable.

Perhaps you find yourself in a similar situation. A lot of people died in those fires. I am sorry for your loss.

http://www.news.com.au/heraldsun/story/0,21985,25046752-5018723,00.html

Kilimanjaro - Part 2

The Ascent

We are woken at 11pm to start our ascent. We pack for our climb, have tea and biscuits and depart at quarter past midnight.

We head up into the cold night. The stars are bright and the half moon has risen and shines brightly behind us. We wear headlights as do the other trekkers. It is like a string of Christmas lights winding up the mountain. Everyone is out of breath and moving slowly.

At first I use my headlight but like some of the guides I find the light of the moon sufficient. Even so there are so many people passing each other in the dark it is difficult to keep track. I spend 15 minute following a group of strangers before I realise they're not my party. I then have to catch up to the others.

Knowing that the journey will take six hours until sunrise somehow makes it easier. I am committed to the task and have no expectation of respite.My experience in the Himalayas also helps me to recognise the signs of altitude sickness so I am not so worried about it.

My breathing is deep and rapid. As I get higher it gets colder and harder to breath. I feel like my lungs are empty. They are expanding and contracting like paper bags but nothing is filling them.

Around 3am my whole body starts to get cold so at the next break I decide to put on my down jacket and plastic over pants. This takes some time so our guides hurry to help me.

I take a drink of water. There is ice in the bottle. I take half a dimox tablet to help with the altitude. A guide decides to carry my pack for me. I let him even though a pack counts as an extra layer of warmth.

To manipulate my zips I have to take off the three layers of gloves of my right hand. My hand is freezing cold and I am not sure if this is figurative or literal. My toes are cold too. This is not because they are exposed to the cold. (Happily, I have three layers of socks on.) When the body gets cold it draws warmth away from the extremities.

I worry about frostbite. I also feel like my vision is darkening. Then I remember it is night. I am a little confused.

I decide my cold toes are nothing more than what I might experience on a very cold Melbourne day. I stamp my feet as I am walking. I clench and unclench my hands to improve the circulation. I can't see very well through the hood of my jacket. Then I realise it isn't on properly. This is hard to tell as i am also wearing two light balaclavas and a beanie. The chin strap is over my forehead. I pull it down under my chin. Much better.


We have to climb to 5895m. Behind us is a mountain which our guide Francis tells me is 5145m high. It mocks me. No matter how high we climb it always looks higher.

I am much warmer now. I don't have any problems with the cold. It is ten minutes to five so I know we have come most of the way. Someone says Stella Point is not far away. From there the walk will be easier.

Stella Point is not as close as we were lead to believe but we get there. In the east a blood red line stretches over the top of the clouds. We head west. On our right is a small valley which leads to the rim of the crater. On our left is a small valley which leads to a large wall of ice.



Orange streams spread out from the red line. The sky lightens and the features of the landscape grow clearer. My camera batteries go flat and I change to my last set of spare batteries.

We progress to Uhuru peak. The highest point in all of Africa. We have travelled quickly, passed a lot of people and are among the first 30 or so people to reach the top. Everyone at the top is happy and proud, even those who feel quite sick.

My fresh set of batteries quickly go dead. (It is an effect of the cold.) I end up taking photos with my mobile phone.




The sun breaks through the clouds suddenly and everything is lit up. The ice wall is beautifully detailed. In the west is Mount Meru and next to it is the shadow of Mount Kilimanjaro stretching over the clouds.





Now the descent.

What can I say? We go down.

The trail is a mix of rock, stones and dirt. In some places the trail is slippery from too many small loose stones. In other places the dust is so deep our boots sink into it easily and we run down the slope as if it is a sand dune. The sun gets warm. I take off my down jacket and I wear a single pair of gloves.



Some people regard the descent harder but I find it easier. I am glad to be descending to a lower altitude where I can breath easier.

We return to camp at quarter past nine. It has been nine hours of exertion. Some of my companions describe it as the hardest day of their lives. I don't feel that way. I have surprised myself with how well I have coped with the challenge. I still feel I can do more which is just as well because the day isn't over yet.

After lunch we head off for a three hour walk to our final camp site. I break out the mp3 player so the first hour is enjoyable enough but then the battery gets flat.

We leave the sun and descend into fog. Grass appears on the slope, then small bushes, then scrawny trees. The last hour and a half becomes quite tiring. The trees get taller and a little thicker.

I sleep deeply for 10 hours with few interruptions. For anyone with sleeping problems I can highly recommend 12 hours of strenuous walking. I have had enough of camping for now and am looking forward to the hotel, a shower, a good meal and a comfortable bed.

We descend into a lush rainforest. My left knee is giving me problems and it gets progressively worse. This is the hardest part for me. For the last half hour of walking I keep my left leg straight because any time I bend the knee it brings agony. I am using two walking poles. The path turns into a road. It is raining fairly heavily. I walk with my left leg in the depression of the tire track so I can swing my left leg forward without having to bend the knee. We reach the gate for lunch and are transported by van back to civilization.

And so ends another adventure. What will happen next? I hope you are not tired of Africa because there is more of that to come.

Kilimanjaro - Part 1

This baby rhino at the Nairobi Elephant Orphanage is four weeks old.




Tanzania rhymes with Tasmania.

I spend two days with my cousin in Nairobi. It is great to be with family. The news from home is not good. Victoria burns. The hottest day on record brings bushfires. Hundreds die. For now I don't know whom. I haven't been able to check my most recent emails.

At Nairobi airport there are three flights leaving from each gate. On the other side of the gate it is a bit of a free for all. There are a multitude of planes on the tarmac being boarded. I am directed to "follow those ladies". I board a plane from the rear stairwell. There is no stewardess to greet me so I check with a fellow passenger that I am on the correct flight.

Forty minutes later I am in Tanzania at the Kilimanjaro airport. I am met at the airport. As we drive away the sun has set and a beautiful full moon hovers over the horizon. Kilimanjaro is hidden behind clouds. I can just make out the lower slopes either side.

Forty minutes later I am at a beautiful hotel.

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The next day.

As we start up the mountain we pass through a beautiful temperate rain forest. Ferns, tree ferns and large trees covered in thick moss. It looks similar to many places in Australia. It especially reminds me of the Ballroom Forest at the edge of Dove Lake near Cradle mountain in Tasmania.


I see our guide Freddy is carrying something long in his pack which at first glance I mistake for a rifle. It is only an umbrella. This tells me there are no dangerous animals in the area. I ask to make sure. No, not even mosquitoes.

I then ask about any safe animals that might be in the area. There are two types of monkeys. There are also some jackals and wild dogs but they are rare and we aren't likely to see them.

I ask "what do the jackals and dogs eat? Monkeys?"
He says there are also some small antelope but they are rare and we aren't likely to see them.

I ask if we will encounter snow on the summit. No, just ice.

We walk consistently up. It is a mild slope. After lunch the trees start to thin out. I start to see some of that wispy moss hanging from the trees like I saw in the Himalayas. There is an ultra light rain, hardly more than a mist. This turns into a light shower.

We set up camp. Actually the porters and crew set up camp. Our contribution is merely unrolling our sleeping mats and sleeping bags. It is cloudy and we can't see Kilimanjaro. We discuss whether it is really there or not. Perhaps we have been tricked into walking another remote area. We have some brief rain.

I am travelling with two Canadian brothers, a father and son from Melbourne and an Englishman. I was the last to join the party and the rest of the group were expecting a woman. James, the son, was particularly disappointed as he had an intricate romantic scenario all planned out. Then I show up to ruin his plans.

Nature calls at 5am. Kilimanjaro is eerie in the light of the full moon. It doesn't hang over us in the sky the way the mountains do in Nepal. it is still distant. I can see a great deal of ice on the approach to the summit. I hope I will be able to make it. After my altitude problems at Everest I began this walk knowing full well I might not reach the top.

We get up at 6:30 and the summit is still clearly visible. Some clouds quickly rise and obscure it but after a while they disappear. We leave at 8:30. This is an hour earlier than scheduled but Freddy wants to reach the campsite before lunchtime in case it rains. It will be better to have lunch in the tents than to be caught in rain.





Someone has a plastic cup left from a morning cup of tea. It is returned to the porters so they can pack it away. We pretend that the porters have been greatly distressed by the missing cup and that this is what they have been discussing heatedly in Swahili. "We are missing a cup". "We will have to fill in a form to requisition a new one." "Who will pay for the new cup?" "It was your responsibility. It will come out of your salary." "I am not responsible for the cups. I just carry them. You distribute them."

This becomes a running joke for the trip. Whenever we hear animated discussions in Swahili we pretend the porters are discussing care and maintenance of cups.

The track is quite muddy and rocky and we head up a steeper trail than the day before. The morning quickly warms up. It is sunny and glaring as we head north easterly with the rising sun shining into our eyes. The summit drifts in and out of view among the clouds. As we ascend the trees thin out. The mist behind us thickens and billows. Tanzania disappears. We are now above the clouds.

The world is now just us and the mountain.

"Us" is quite a lot of people. Over 30,000 visitors climb Kilimanjaro each year and maybe twice as many porters. There are many groups walking the same route and camping in the same area. I can't distinguish our porters from any of the others.

I ask Freddy what percentage of people make it to the top. He says 85%. And how many of us will make it to top? 100% he assures me. Can he usually tell who will be in the 15%? No, he can never tell.

We reach higher, flatter ground. There are lovely pink and white wild-flowers that look like they belong on cacti. We reach camp in an open rocky area. We are pretty much above the tree line. Tents are scattered sparsely around and it is as noisy as a caravan park. The peak is hidden in the mists. We aren't sure which direction it is in and we offer different opinions.

In the twilight around sunset the peak appears, just where I said it would be, hovering brightly over the darkening foreground. Directly opposite the rocky ground drops away to a panorama of clouds. Normal looking clouds are drifting in from the left and the right. below them and us is a thick bed of fluffy clouds. They glow orange as they are lit from underneath by an unseen sunset.

I wish you were here.




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In the morning, the summit is clearly visible. (When I talk about "the summit" or "the peak" I am talking about that section of the mountain which rises up covered in ice and snow. We have been walking upon Kilimanjaro for days but when we ask "Where's Kilimanjaro?" we are asking about this distinctive section which sits like a mountain on top of another mountain.)

The tent is covered with fine frozen water droplets. Frost is frozen on the ground and crunches beneath our feet. We head straight towards the summit. It looks like it is just over the next ridge. But the ridge flattens out slightly with another ridge beyond it and there is another ridge beyond that and so on.

Beside a stream - little more than a ditch - thick frost is composed of closely packed fine parallel threads of ice 2cm long. During the day any moisture on the surface is dried by the sun and the wind. It is still moist under the dirt. This is where the frost begins and it grows overnight pushing up the surface dirt and small stones like mushrooms



As we slowly ascend the ice disappears in the sun. There are no trees. The land is rocky with tufts of wiry grass. There is a long trail of people going up the mountain. We branch off the main trail and head for "lava tower". We pass a small stream which has carved a 4 metre deep channel in soft soil. It looks unusually young. Freddy explains the area used to be covered in snow. These days it snows occasionally but the snow always melts. Freddy has been climbing the mountain for 17 years and has seen the glaciers disappearing. He expects them to be gone in another 10 years.

We have lunch about 800 metres before Lava Tower. It is a large lump of rock about the size of a five story building. The mist has risen and visibility is poor. We go up around the tower to reach a height of 4600m. This is important for acclimatisation.



As we descend I lose sight of the others in the mist. Weird plants looking something like those branching cacti of North American deserts start appearing. As we get lower they get larger until they are tall like trees reaching about seven metres.




We get to camp just as it starts to rain. The summit is lost beneath the mist.

In the night the summit appears in the opposite direction of where I expect. It is much closer now. We are almost at the base of it. It looms over us under a waning gibbous moon.

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In all the walking has been a lot easier than in Nepal. It is a steady, gradual ascent and not with the ups and downs of the Himalayas.

I get out of breath occasionally and feel slightly nauseous. I now recognise this as a reaction to the altitude.

I am not battling a cold. I get tired but there is none of that "I must endure" or "I struggle to put one foot in front of the other". This may come later, on the final ascent.

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In the morning we set off walking up a steep rock cliff. It is bright and sunny. It gets a bit slow in some sections. There is a need to clamber up some rocks and this can be difficult for the porters. The result is a traffic jam of trekkers.



Clouds come in. Today is a series of ups and downs more like walks in Nepal.
At one point I am walking along a flat barren stretch, Mist hides any features of the landscape. I imagine this is what purgatory must be like.

We reach our camp before lunch. We are 50 metres higher than the night before but the heights we reached will help in our acclimatisation.

In the evening the mist clears. Kilimanjaro appears in a totally different direction to what I was expecting. In retrospect I don't know why. The peak has been consistently uphill. The lights of Moshi are bright below us.

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I wake up early. I think the sunrise will look good from a nearby ridge so I decide to take a look-see. It is further than it looks so I don't make it. As I return I take photos of the light changing on the mountain as the sun rises. I also see a couple of dark brown large mice.

We walk to base camp. Up , down, flat, up. We get there. We meet happy people who have just come down from the summit.

We are at 4600m. There is very little grass at this altitude. There are numerous light brown mice that have three dark brown stripes down their backs. They dart under rocks and around the tents. They are almost rat size.


The area is a mix of volcanic rock, boulders, stones and dirt and plates of slate stone that clink beneath our feet like glass.

I sleep for about an hour in the afternoon. We have dinner at 5.30 and try to get some sleep. I have a couple of hours dozing and a couple of hours sleep before being woken at 11pm. We pack for our climb, have tea and biscuits and depart at quarter past midnight.

Kruger - Part 2

I apologise. I still have to write down this account.
I will get back to this soon.

South Africa - Part 1

Johannesburg

As the plane descends and I first see the grass and trees of Africa I have a mild epiphany. My ancestors came from this continent - the cradle of humanity. Australia is where I was born but my roots only go back four generations. I am aware that the lands history belongs to the Aborigines. Australia has adopted me. It is my land, my home my future. If I remain for ten thousand years will the sun claim me and turn my skin black?

But in Africa there is a sudden stirring. A long deep forgotten connection with the past. Here is where my ancient ancestors learned to hunt, formed communities, told jokes around the fire.

At the airport I rent a mobile phone SIM card for $1.50 a day. I get picked up and transferred to my accommodation - a small family run hotel. In contrast to Nepal, there is no in house restaurant. There is a kitchen that guests can use. I get a lift to the supermarket for supplies. For lunch I make myself bread rolls with tomato, avocado, cream cheese and mushroom. It is nice to make my own sandwich and have fresh food for a change.

In the afternoon I go on a half day tour of Johannesburg and Soweto.

We see the sights. Not much to write home about really. A good way to spend the afternoon.

For dinner I make myself a pasta with tomato, avocado, cream cheese and mushroom.

At 8pm I lie down briefly and fall asleep with the lights on. I wake at 10pm and decide to get up but I don't. I get up at midnight and pack my bags for the next day. The tour company is due to pick me up between 5 and 6am so I am up and ready by 5am. They arrive just before 6.

Kruger

Back home in Melbourne the temperature has dropped from unbearable mid forties to a more reasonable stinking hot mid thirties. Children start their first day at school. Across the globe, the great powers turn from war and discuss peace and prosperity. The poor nations of Africa lend money to the US hoping for a good return on their investment. There is a saying in Africa; when elephants fight each other the grass gets trampled and when elephants make love the grass gets trampled.

We drive and drive with two petrol stops. Along the way, our driver John tells us the recent news which has shocked the tourism community. A lioness entered a tent at night, dragged out one of the two anti-poachers, killed and ate him. This has not been heard of before - a lioness entering a tent.

At 11am we arrive at the greater Kruger National Park. The park was surrounded by farms. The farm owners found they could make more money from tourism by converting their land to private reserves. They brought down the fences between the private reserves to allow the animals to roam freely. This area is the Greater Kruger National Park. Private land permitting camp sites. Tour operators pay concessions to the owners. More recently the fences have been brought down between the park and the greater park allowing the animals more freedom.

We transfer to a large land rover and head for our first campsite. There are six of us on the tour plus our two guides and two cooks.

Jo and Tom are our guides. Jo is a 6'2 South African amazon - tall, tanned, confident, competent, good humoured. She does all the driving, guiding and provides the explanations. Tom is English, quieter, friendly, helpful and has a keen eye.

We stop the vehicle to look at a small terrapin crawling near muddy water. Jo points out various birds.

Driving on we come across a couple of warthogs running through the bush. Then we see some impala nearby. Almost immediately there is a Buffalo across the road, more impala and a couple of zebra.

Now it's happening. We drive on peering through the bush. Now and then we spot something. More often than not we think we see something but it turns out to be a branch, a termite mound or a rock. This is all part of the fun and excitement. Typically you dive for fifteen minutes or a half hour without seeing anything then when you do see something it is always a sudden surprise.

At a large waterhole we come across a dozen buffalo. The buffaloes stare back at us as if to say "well, what do you want?" Tom tells us they say buffaloes look at you as if you owe them money.

We rest at camp and go for another drive in the afternoon. More impala, kudu and birds. We see the eyes ears and nostrils of a hippopotamus peeking out of the water. Then we spot something in the distance. An elephant? No, it is a rhino. We drive closer to get a better look but it mysteriously disappears.

It is getting close to sunset when we see the elephants. About a dozen or so lumbering through the bush about 50 metres from our vehicle.
We spend about half an hour watching them before they wander off into the twilight.



We have drinks watching the sunset. Fireflies come out blinking on and off. As we drive back to camp, Tom sits on a seat mounted on the hood waving a spotlight around in the dark. We see an owl and a chameleon. When we are almost back at camp we come across a leopard two metres from our vehicle. We exclaim "ooh", "look", "leopard", "wonderful" while Jo is desperately saying, "shhh, shhh, keep quiet". The leopard wanders off but we turn the vehicle around and follow it. The leopard is not perturbed. It stops and washes itself. It is exhilarating studying this wild, beautiful, dangerous creature. We follow the cat for 10 minutes before it slinks off into the distance.



Our camp has excellent facilities. Flushing toilets and hot showers. The door to the shower is a rope. If the rope is up the shower is in use. Our tents are deluxe, large with thick canvass under a wooden frame. a wooden door opens out to a wooden porch with a canvass chair. Inside, two comfortable single beds, a battery operated lantern another canvass chair.

Jo explains at night cats may wander through the camp. There are no fences. Before going to the toilet we must check for cats. If we see one we must remain calm, go back to where we came from, stay indoors, wait for the cat to go away. The cats won't enter buildings. (Some sort of cat superstition I guess.)

I ask Jo if the cats understand the rope rule for the shower. She laughs and says "yes" but I am not sure. She doesn't look entirely certain.

I go take a shower in the dark feeling particularly vulnerable.

At night, kerosene lanterns are placed 3 metres in front of each tent and building. I wake in the middle of the night. I don't want to go out where the cats are but my bladder exerts a pressure far greater than any rational fear of danger.

In the morning we drive to where we will walk through the bush. I missed a giraffe at breakfast while I was packing my bag. As we drive I spot a giraffe through the trees. (Actually, it had its own spots already. Hah hah hah.)

We start our walk single file, Jo and Tom at the front with rifles loaded. We see lizards on a rock, lots of large spiders, mainly golden orb spiders with huge webs across our path. And we see animals. I can't remember which ones exactly. I'll have to check my photos and come back and edit this entry later.

We come back to camp around 11 and have a second breakfast. Then we have nothing to do in the heat of the day until after lunch around 3. Sleeping in the tent is my preferred option. It is in the mid to high thirties. The afternoon has another drive, another sunset, another night drive with spotlight.

No cats tonight but it is fun and exciting looking for them. The clouds have been darkening and there are flashes of lightening threatening in the distance.