Rock picking

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Rock picking has not been one of my favorite past times. I remembeer being dropped off on Yarrow Creek with a "Be back in an hour!!!" and left there for......eons. Many hours during my teenage years were spent building wire baskets and then filling them with rocks to replace fence posts in the rocky creek crossings. In Africa though, it is much harder to find rocks. We mine them out of washouts and ravines, prospecting for good ones, the big ones that will not sink into an oblivion of red sand after one pass with the land rover. There is a boundary fence on the west side of the reserve, whether it is protecting the big five or the villages on the other side I am not quite sure, but the animals will be shot if they cross into private property. Replacing and patching up the large stretchs of downed fence after the storm was our first priority. Let me tell you, this is not going out with a pair of pliars and a hammer to replace a few staples. We cut telephone wires and poles to clear the road. Truck loads of rocks gathered and poured into mud holes and gullies. And in Africa, everything is out to get you. I am less worried about the lions than I am about being caught in a knobthorn tree. One encounter was quite enough, thank you very much!!!

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