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King of the ... Scrub
It was still dark when we spotted this magnificent animal - the only lion to be seen on the entire trip.Early to bed, early to rise. It was 05h15 when the phone rang; it was the front desk reminding me to get up. Why so early? It wasn’t going to take me 45 minutes to have a wash, get dressed and meet in Reception for the 06h00 safari. Oh well, as I had to answer the phone anyway, I got up.
It was still dark as I made my way through the cold building to Reception. Both Jill and Brian were there, but there was no sign of Alfred, our guide. As 06h00 approached, so did Alfred. He guided us to our jeep and bade us farewell - he was off back to bed!
It was cold and dark as our Jeep Jockey drove along the deserted roads to the entrance of the park. We were driving just too fast for my hat to remain on my head, so I took it off and opted to use it as an impromptu wind break. I just hadn’t realised how cold it would be before the sun stirred.
Arriving at the park, the convoy of jeeps stopped and the jockeys reported to the gatehouse to confirm the number of passengers
More Photographers? Next!
The resemblance in mannerism between the King of the Jungle and Lord of the Lounge is remarkable. My own cats sit in the garden, under bushes, just like this! they were carrying. It was very biblical that having arrived first, we departed last. Our driver then chose to follow his own route along a different track away from the rest of the convoy.
And so it was that we saw the lion long after everyone else!
As we rounded a corner, there in front of us, spread across the sandy track were a number of jeeps. Like some macabre ceremony, the jeeps formed a semi-circle, their bull-bars towards the centre and their inhabitants pointing their cameras like spears towards a lion. He reminded me of Scar from The Lion King, slightly scraggy around the edges. He was also behaving as my cats do at home - looking nonchalantly around seemingly without a care in the world - like the Sphinx. As we stopped, the American in the jeep with us stood up and was halfway out before the driver realised and instructed, nay ordered, him to get back in. Having sat down, he suffered the indignation of a public lecture in behaviour.
The other jeeps moved off down the track and we followed behind. At the first junction, they all headed straight on whilst we turned
right and right again, heading back parallel to our original route. Every now and then, the driver stopped and peered down at the sand as if he was searching for some magical footprints that would lead us to a pride of lions going in for the kill. Instead, impala and francolin prints were all we saw. Eventually, with no promise of wildlife, he turned the jeep around and we headed off back towards the river bank.
There above our heads was the most magnificent Fish Eagle, looking out for the next meal. Close by, on another branch, was his companion, a female Fish Eagle. Together, they made a stunning sight. By comparison, at the water’s edge was a Giant Kingfisher, also sitting on a branch and also waiting for the next meal. Both were spectacular to view.
Returning back to the main track, we headed further into the park and it wasn’t long before we came across several impala. This wasn’t the main herd, but it was exciting to see these beautiful animals at such close quarters.
Continuing down the sandy track, we were well and truly on our own with the other jeeps being in convoy
somewhere else. The sun had not yet risen high enough in the sky and so the cold early morning air rushed through the jeep chilling the huddling occupants to the core. I hoped the other jeeps were having more luck with the animals than we were, but maybe I thought too soon, when out of the bushes to our right, appeared a baboon, then a second, a third and a fourth. Eventually, a troupe of some thirty to forty males, females and bijou-baboonettes snaked their way across the sandy track in front of us. What a glorious sight; like a primate conveyor belt. Occasionally, several female baboons emerged from the bushes with their young offspring on their backs rather like a steeplechase, the little jockeys gripping their mothers as if the honour of the stables was at stake. Finally, a large male baboon brought up the rear and they headed into the bush on the left hand side of the vehicle and disappeared from view. All was quiet again, as if nothing had happened.
The sun was now gaining some respectability as we headed towards the Chobe River and a comfort stop. Pulling on the river bank, we climbed
down and the driver lifted the bull-bars to form a table upon which he placed biscuits, coffee and tea. Grabbing a coffee, it felt great to be warm again - rather odd though considering we were on the edge of the Kalahari!
Just offshore, a bloat of hippo were starting their day as they meant to carry on. Considering they spend so much of their time in the water, it comes as little surprise then that DNA testing suggests these water horses are more closely related to whales and dolphins than any other hoofed mammal. One mother with pup approached the shore and, what was surprising, was that as hippos kill more humans than any other African animal, some of our extended party decided to approach for a better photo. Needless to say, the various jeep jockeys rushed forward and offered chastisements to the aforementioned Americans, who seemed completely unaware of their danger and intent on offering themselves as a sacrifice to any animal that would take them! Despite being the third largest land animal (the rhino is slightly bigger but lighter), they can out run an American. We were not to see such a race.
Coffee finished
Baby Baboon
There must have been about thirty or forty animals in this troop, with this pair towards the back, near the dominant male.
Any resemblance to anyone living is purely coincidental! and the hamper packed away, we embarked upon the second part of the trip and headed back along the sand tracks. The sun was now much higher in the sky and a cosy glow emanated from the bush and the herd of impala grazing upon it. Moving on, we passed banded mongooses but sadly, no giraffe although a warthog did run out in front of us and headed off down a valley, its little legs carrying its upright tail far into the distance.
The trip was now coming to an end and we were making our way back to the main gate. Just ahead of us, a jeep was stopped towards the right hand side of the track. We could see nothing of interest and couldn’t see what it was that so excited the two occupants. As we passed the jeep on its left at a slow crawl, we saw it. There, not 10 feet from us, was a rather irate elephant, ears perpendicular to its head, trunk raised, little pink diamond shaped mouth agape, making the most incredible trumpeting noise imaginable. Without waiting for a photo opportunity, our driver put pedal to the metal and we moved away
Botswanan Derby!
I can hear Peter O'Sullivan now ... in a cloud of sand leaving the elephant to continue bellowing.
Returning to the lodge, we were met by Alfred and, after a suitable safari breakfast, we cleared our rooms, settled our bills, deposited our bags in the trailer and settled back into the familiar surroundings of our own jeep.
Livingstone, I presume?
Leaving the lodge, we headed out through the streets of Kasane towards the border with Zambia. The recent elections in Zimbabwe had still not produced a winner and as such, Alfred was concerned about the number of lorries crossing in Zimbabwe via Zambia - it would make our own crossing difficult. We were soon to understand why.
Passing a long line of lorries waiting at the border, we soon arrived at the Botswanan post. Locking the jeep, we headed for the border post and, picking up some forms, completed the appropriate details and headed back towards the young lady behind the desk. Making small talk, she stamped my passport and I was free to leave. I now had to hope that I could get entry to Zambia and I was now technically in no-man's-land.
Climbing back into the jeep, we headed down a
Chobe River
A break from the animals, this shot puts the safari into context. mud track towards the great Zambesi. There, to our horror, was a lorry and a number of trucks already waiting. In addition, there were scores of people carrying drums of fuel as hand baggage. Ladies in colourful costumes were carrying boxes of soap crystals and tins of cooking oil.
We parked and, leaving Alfred in the jeep, headed towards the waters edge with instructions from Alfred to board the ferry only when the jeep was on board. He also warned us against standing too near the water’s edge due to the appetite of the crocodiles.
Waiting in the shade of a tree, it was interesting to see the results of the Zimbabwean regime in the all-too-visible blackmarketeering. In such a poor region, I cannot think of any other way of explaining the presence of a very new, very shiny, very black, very expensive BMW 7 series!
The ferry eventually made it across from Zambia and, no sooner had the ramp lowered, when everyone helped offload the empty fuel canisters and load as many packages and fuel drums as possible. It was a real community effort as the ferry, not having a timetable, simply raised the ramp when
Proud Mother and Baby
The hippo were not going to make it easy for us and decided to ensure we had to shoot into the sun. Still, we did manage to capture sight of this little chap. the last vehicle was loaded. I should explain that, whilst you’re imagining a large-ish ferry carrying a reasonable number of vehicles, in reality, one (short) articulated lorry and one jeep with a trailer was all that fitted on. We feared that we would have to wait some considerable time to cross.
The ferry left Botswana and headed out into the fast flowing Zambesi. Black smoke belched from the over-stretched engine as the ferry headed upstream at a painfully slow rate. Eventually, it turned and allowed the current to carry it to its berth on the Zambian side.
Having docked, nothing happened. The ramp came down, but nothing happened. There was an almighty traffic jam on the Zambian side and nothing could move. We watched helpless from Botswana as nothing continued to happen. Actually, Alfred informed us that we were technically in Zimbabwe at this point, but it didn’t matter because whilst he’d been educating us, nothing was still happening!
Due to the sensitivity of the crossing, cameras were firmly away but we did get out the binoculars to try and understand what was happening across the river. One ferry appeared out of action and the other appeared
stuck, its load still aboard. We could see a line of lorries heading up the bank towards the brow of the hill, where the line disappeared. Fixing our eyes on a garishly orange tractor unit, we used it to gauge progress. Nothing. A while later, still nothing. Then, exhaust from the orange truck and a movement, but no movement from the ferry. Finally, a truck must have been given permission to enter Zambia as our orange tractor unit managed to move forward a vehicle’s length. It was enough to allow the two vehicles off the ferry, which then made its way back to us.
On arrival, Alfred moved forwards but was held back in favour of another jeep and lorry. We despondently prepared ourselves for another wait, when Alfred drove forwards and parked on the ferry. He’d managed to blag his way on board, the only snag being that our trailer was now on the ferry’s ramp and need manhandling. We grabbed our own bags and helped move some fuel cans on the ferry and then move for’ard, out of the thick black diesel smoke emanating from the engine.
Arriving on the far side, Alfred had requested that
Impala
Notice how all but one are looking in the same direction ... we sort a route out for him through the throng of lorries so that he wouldn’t get blocked in. Unfortunately, whilst we, as pedestrians, were quickly offloaded, to the relief of those with fuel drums, Alfred was stuck, trying to reattach the trailer. Several people helped him move the trailer up hill towards the jeep and soon we were cutting a path through the mass of people and vehicles and heading towards the Zambian border post.
At the post, we joined the long queue to get a visa, passport stamp and permission to enter. The queue moved very slowly and having received instruction on what to write down, I paid my $140 and received a very nice, embossed visa allowing me entry into Zambia. Rejoining my Australian travelling companions, we waited for Alfred to complete the importation of the jeep. Eventually he reappeared and we headed back to the jeep, finding that Alfred had simply stopped in the middle of the road and was causing his own traffic jam!
Moving on, we made it all of 20 yards to the border post where we were stopped by a gun toting guard. With nothing to do, we waited. And
Pumba the Warthog
This was the only sighting of a warthog in the entire safari and our Jeep Jockey almost missed it, despite us asking him to stop. waited. Finally, we were given permission to pass through the gate and into Zambia. 90 minutes after leaving the ferry, we had advanced several hundred yards - a feat that would have impressed Earl Haig - and were welcomed into Zambia - by Alfred.
The roads in Zambia looked very similar to those in Botswana as did the countryside. It’s just that - well - it looked a little more - well - scruffy around the edges, like a well-loved teddy. In Botswana, the potholes had a certain charm almost as if they were supposed to be in the road; here, the potholes were a nuisance and clearly looked as though they shouldn’t be there!
That said, we eventually made it into Livingstone and approaching the hotel, Alfred told us about a family that was attacked by an elephant on this very same road. Apparently, there was nothing left that could be identified, just a mush. I vowed not to go out at night and say my prayers!
We arrived at the hotel-cum-campsite, unhitched the trailer and went to get our room keys. Settling in, the slightly-rough-around-the-edges look continued with a very nice room but with very
Ferry at Kasane
We waited some considerable time in the hot sun whilst the ferry shuttled backwards and forwards across the very fast flowing Zambese. Clearly, this was not unusual as the regulars had bought their playing cards with them! old colonial furniture and a fan support by a brick! After a quick lunch, during which we constantly had to chase away the monkeys, we headed back to our rooms and the quiet of a river-side chair; not the Zambesi but a small tributary. There was so much moisture in the air from the Victoria Falls that the sun was dressed in a circular rainbow! Normally, one only sees such sights when in an aeroplane, but here, on the ground, the sight was amazing.
As 16h00 approached, we all headed to the landing stage where we were to embark upon our Zambesi Booze-Cruise. After a brief introduction by our very friendly Zambian host, the drinks started to flow - however, take it from me, Zambian red wine is not worth a second sip! Due to the immense flood of the Zambesi, the only sign of life (apart from the birds) was a solitary crocodile that was in no mood to do anything but sleep. Even on board the boat, there was little sign of life, with the two tours keeping themselves truly separate!
The bell rang for dinner and, heading downstairs, we joined the back of the queue.
Who's this Handsome Devil?
No tripod (it's lost with the luggage) yet I still managed to capture myself ... relaxing in Livingstone I have to admit that Alfred was correct - the Zambians are not renowned for their cuisine! However, Zambian red wine certainly did complement the food!
It was dark when we returned to the hotel. Having spent the past few hours slowly emptying the boat of drink, we retired to the bar and started to empty the bar of drink. To be honest, it was a very pleasant evening spent in the company of very nice new friends - and I wasn’t in the least bit tipsy, honest!
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