Don’t call it a bus – the one cardinal rule – it’s a truck! A fierce African mask mounted on the front grill of Omaruru (each vehicle is named for a Southern African river), provided a sense of protection as we arrived at our opening destination, a campsite adjacent to Chobe National Park (“and what was that about Elephants keeping us up at night?”).
Our first day was all about familiarizing ourselves with the expedition experience (the “Truck”, routines and daily assigned tasks). After introductions at the meet and greet campfire BBQ dinner it was apparent that this group was quite eclectic spanning a considerable age range (no we were not the oldest). There were several under 25’s from the UK and Australia, some 30-40’s from Australia, Holland and France/New Zealand, another Canuck couple(early 50’s) from B.C., and a lad from South Korea (27) travelling with his parents (late 50’s) – his dad being ex-military, ex-UN envoy, historical novelist, fluent in several languages and my new hero.
The next morning, we set out early into the park on a game drive (another damn sunrise – what is the preoccupation with that down here?) - a bit disappointing in terms of animal sightings save for this one bird who walked in the shallow water spreading his wings like a bat cape in order to temporarily blind the fish below making it easier to catch them.
Adding to the sleep deprivation, it was also quite a bit cooler on the drive than most of us were prepared for, leading to some communal bonding whining. After our warm up lunch, we set off for a late afternoon cruise on the Chobe river (sunset – that’s more like it). Despite the abundance of Hippos and Elephants that feasted and played at the waters’ edge; the highlight of the river cruise was the dazzling array of colourful birds (including several varieties of Kingfishers).
After a day’s drive to Maun, we prepared for our overnight Okavango Delta boat trip, but not before some drunken campground hide and seek (it’s actually fun hangin’ out with under 25’s especially when the facility has a fully stocked bar). The next morning we learned that our expedition leader had gone down with Malaria overnight – and he’s from Kenya (better not miss any doses of those prophylaxis pills)!
We plodded on with our driver as lead and set out on the marshy waters in our convoy of two-man “Mokoros” (narrow wood dugout canoes) punted by some locals with 20 foot wood poles through what seemed like laneways and avenues within the reeds.
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| What's That Flower You Have On.. |
We only traveled an hour and a half to our island outpost, barely scratching the surface of the world’s largest inland Delta encompassing some 16,000 sq. kms.
We spent the day trying to learn for ourselves the optimal punting method (the proper term is actually polling), but ultimately resorted to playing water games in swimming areas we were assured were safe (the games themselves either involved trying to get as many people in a Mokoro as possible or trying to tip them out – once again pretty fun traveling with under 25’s).
Traversing some of the dryer areas on foot yielded much more flora than fauna, but our guides nevertheless made it interesting by pointing out medicinal plants and then, at dinner, serenading us with village local song and dance (luckily we brought along our own libations).
Another dawn wake-up call for the Mokoro return trip and after a half-hour of reed smacks across the head we were back on land (the delta is pretty thick this time of year so passengers are actually below the thicket).
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| Nice Umbrella |
In order to get an even better perspective on the Delta, we opted for a scenic flight over the area that afternoon. The Okavango is quite unique as the water has no natural place to go (it actually gets absorbed by the Kalahari Desert) and so the fluvial areas most associated with river deltas are not present. Instead there are alternating areas of swamp, marsh, small lakes and ponds, and dried out areas. This affords a great variation in fauna and in quite large numbers- as evidenced by the herds of elephants, buffalo and wildebeest visible from the plane. These sightings helped to keep our minds off the nauseatingly bumpy and twisty ride.
Our last day in Botswana brought us to a ‘real” bush camp (no facilities save for some huts, but also a refreshing quarry swimming hole – a welcome respite from the 35C+ temperatures).
It was here that we encountered the bush people (straight out of the film “The Gods Must Be Crazy” – click language, loin cloths, the whole nine yards). They were fascinating and the most authentic indigenous encounter in Africa so far (in contrast to the sense you get in Kenya and Tanzania that the Masai are putting on a show and then slipping back into their Levi’s to go to the bar). We began our walk in the nearby fields and a family of about eight silently emerged from the bush. During the hour walk we were treated to explanations and demonstrations of their traditional uses of naturally occurring products (roots for fertility, disease, common ailments, hangovers and hygiene – including alternative plant-based soaps and toothpaste).
They even tended to our driver Tony’s foot injury he had suffered in a particularly competitive segment of our evening “Hide & Seek” game a few days back.
Hope it works – the staff are dropping like Tse Tse flies…
For more Botswana photos, see flickr at:
http://www.flickr.com/photos/thegoobers_pics/sets/72157626292882566/
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