Wild Nights

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Life in a 20 Litre Bucket

While half the group ended up in the wheat fields at the bottom of the hill, Ma Guide looked well rested from his uninterrupted sleep in the truck.
“I woke up a couple of times and felt the truck shaking. I had no idea of the dramas outside.” The wind was strong enough to shake a thirteen tonne truck, it was no wonder that Hendrik had been blown on top of Alex during the night. Alex shook his head, “He spent half the night with his arm up holding the side of the tent saying for fuck’s sake, I can’t sleep. Then the wind just lifted him up and he landed on top of me.”
“So a bit of Norwegian Brokeback Mountain then?”

Everyone stood around with a tin cup of cereal sleep deprived, cold and stiff from the first night of sleeping on a foam black mat. The shower spat out a drizzle of icy cold water and smelling seemed a better option. Once off the property and onto tar roads, everyone promptly fell asleep. Farm houses were few and far between. Even when we did past the occasional modest corrugated iron home, the land didn’t look like it could sustain any form of life. It must however as the town of Springbok appear to cater to people living off the land. Low concrete buildings lined the wide main street dealing in hardware and outdoor gear. Local men sat around in their bakkies or on plastic crates outside the stores. The town wasn’t friendly nor was it hostile it just seemed to be in complete inertia. Springbok wouldn’t be a town you would choose to live in to get away from it all. Rather it is a town if you had the misfortune of becoming penniless in, you will be stuck forever. Much like Darwin.

The boys bought sleeping bags having suffered from last night’s wind. Tonight we were going to camp wild, no tents, no toilets and all bare essentials crammed into a 20 litre white bucket. That is if the wind died down enough to let us paddle along the Orange River. Before I could get too excited about paddling down the third longest river in Africa, also with the most ordinary name, I felt a twinge in my neck. Then while putting my things back in the truck, I no longer had feeling down my left arm. Panic! Unfortunately for me, I was the only physio. Careful not to make it worse, I went about trying to fix myself. It isn’t hard to distract yourself when you are being driven through Namibia. Dusty, brown and with the past few days of rain, opportunisitic grass covered the rocky ground. The river was pumping and the rush of water resonated off the sides of the gorge. “If you don’t feel better, you should stay in the camp.” Derick made a fair point but unless I couldn’t physically grip the paddle, I was going down the river.

From outside, our campsite on the river looked like a land fill with rondavels perched on top. Driving down a flattened dirt slope a lawn appeared by the banks of the Orange River. It could be the only patch of soft greenery for miles, but in all likelihood it was all of Namibia. Suddenly the basics were in a 20 litre bucket and we were on the river. “What are the chances of us flipping?”
“About fifty fifty.” Derick replied. We looked at William our river guide. “Fifty-fifty.” We looked at his brother Gray. “Fifty-fifty.” Nicole looked at me, decidedly nervous. “Don’t worry, about it, we’ll be well looked after,” I reassured her. She didn’t look convinced.
“I was in the Tsunami.” We were paddling for about a few minutes now.
“Why didn’t you say something? You could have gone with one of the boys.” I was a shit paddler and if the rapids were slightly bigger than normal, it was more a thrity-seventy that we will be drinking Orange River.
“It’s not that. I’m okay now. It’s the sound of the rushing water. That’s all I heard.” We took it easy down the brown water and enjoyed the passing weathered river banks. The boys easily powered ahead taking their own line. Occasionally, someone would check to see if we hadn’t ended up in the weeds. A troop of baboons squawked at us from amongst the rocks. Lopping along the banks, one by one they ran away from us while the matriarch sat and made sure the last straggler past before she too went.

Team America fumbled for their cameras and were left behind. Harald was tanning himself while Hendrik did all the paddling. Barely an inch above the water, Alex and Carl were bailing their canoe out with cupped hands. “What have you guys been doing? You’re a couple of inches from sinking.”
“We were splashing each other with the paddle.” Carl informed us. They continued to bail and Derick continued to splash them.
“Rapids guys, put your life jackets on.” For a few minutes the laughter stopped and everyone prayed they weren’t going to the first and or only canoe to flip. No one flipped and we reached our destination without any dramas. Almost.
“Errr… rock.” Crack! Trust the girls to make a loud finish.

Wild Nights

The ground was considerably damp even with the afternoon sun. Our wildlife consisted on some wayward goats clambering up the rocky boulders to find their shepherd. Some willowy trees provided a screen from other paddlers down the river and the rocky hills closed us in. William and Gray climbed the boulders to have a sundowner. The river became quieter and all I could hear was the piercing laughter of William and Gray somewhere up in the hills. I love natural bodies of water, whether it be a lake, river or ocean. The sound, smell and movement are unique to its surrounding. The Orange River was pumping over a dirt river floor colouring it muddy. The recent rain brought that lovely fresh scent of new grass. The sunset is oddly the only thing that was orange.

After the braai we sat around the fire and listened to William and Gray tell us stories. William handed me a beer as his brother began telling a lewd joke. Gray stood up and started gyrating his hips to emphasise his joke. With one last hip grind he delivered the punchline. Silence. William and Derick were laughing but not at the joke. I looked to the rest of the group to see whether only I had not seen the funny side. Gray looked slightly embarrassed.
“Its funny in Afrikaans.” He defended weakly.
“Dude, its ONLY funny in Afrikaans.” Somethings just cannot break the language barrier.

“I have a riddle.” Harald put the riddle to us. “What is more powerful than God, more evil than Satan, bigger than the universe, the poor have it and the rich want it?” We sat for a while staring at the fire, contemplating. We were all stumped. “I have loads more riddles. I like riddles,” admitted Harald.
“Is that how you pick up girls?”
“He’s the only one with a girlfriend, so it must work.”
Ten minutes later and we still didn’t have an answer.
“Okay, I’ll tell you. Nothing.” Harald explained it to us, “Nothing is more powerful than God, Nothing is more evil than Satan, nothing is bigger than the universe, the poor have nothing and the rich want nothing.” Silence.
“That’s deep man.”

Lack of sleep meant I was ready to fall asleep on my patch of dirt. With the Milky Way as my roof, I watched the glittering band of silver across the black sky until I couldn’t force my heavy eyes to stay open and I feel into the dark chasm of sleep.

Down River

I woke up to the sound of the river and nothing else. The barren land meant it was devoid of large animals. My shoulder felt better and packing up so there was no sign that we had even spent the night here; we were soon pushing along the river. The trees became non-existent and shafts evident of mining could be seen. Harald resumed his tanning and let his bitch Hendrik do all the paddling. William hooked his canoe to ours and settled in for a chat.
“What do you do for a living?”
“I’m a project manager in IT.” Nicole replied, he looked at me.
“I’m a physiotherapist.” His eye lit up.
“I hurt my shoulder a month ago, could you look at it?” I should have said I was a paediatric physiotherapist and for the past year have been doing not much but chase fat autistic kids across a muddy English field.
“I wouldn’t ask, but for a while it hurt to take a deep breath in.” That caught my interest. A month ago, while loading some canoes back onto the trailer rack, it had slipped the hands of a worker and slid back catching his right shoulder. I didn’t bother to ask whether or not he had it x-rayed. They never do. He had a kayaking competition coming up and wondered if he should paddle.
“You’re going to paddle whether or not I say you should or shouldn’t, aren’t you?” William cocked his head to one side to come up with an answer I would accept. Smart man, he opted for the truth. “Yes, but I don’t think I would perform very well. I still want to paddle, I just want to know if there is anything I can do to not make it worse while paddling.” Ordinarily I would strap the shoulder and show the person how to do it before a competition. Here, it is harder to find sports tape and even then, much more expensive in South Africa and Namibia. What I had would not be enough for his competition. How I take it for granted that where I work, something as mundane as sports tape is available and affordable.
“I want to visit England.” William replied.
“Why?”
“I liked London. I was there for three years and loved it. I loved the pace.” Nicole commented. Before I could say anything, William unhooked us and pointed us the route to take through the rapids.
Out the other side, the pace slowed down again.
“For fuck’s sake!” Hendrik had lost his paddle. Harald helpfully passed his paddle back and continued to tan. The river was still pushing fast and our end came an hour early. Crraaaack! “You were supposed to be on the look out for rocks!” We had perched ourselves on a rock some hundred metres out from our pick up point. Synchronising some butt shuffling, we managed to dislodge ourselves without flipping. Crraaaack! “Again?” I guess I’m a terrible navigator as well.

Killing some time we walked up a nearby hill to soak in the sight of the river. Everyone except Hendrik. Grimmacing he gingerly turned his whole body around to look at us. “I can’t look down, or up or to the side,” he seethed through clenched teeth.
“Are you going to fix him?” William asked. I shrugged my shoulders. I could try, but thinking about all the things I didn’t have to work on an injury that acute. It reminded me of all the medics working through the tsunami. How little they had and how they had to be creative.
“Poor you, you’re on holidays and you are still being asked to do stuff. You never get a break,” Nicole observed.
“I don’t mind, its just difficult when I don’t have equipment. Besides I normally work with kids, so it is different.”
“How do you get to travel so much?”
“I’m contracting, so I work for a while, get sick of it, go travelling, feel better, work for a while, get sick of it and travel. Repeat as necessary.”
“Are you sure you’re in the right job then?” We were up at the top, looking down at the Orange River curving out of sight.
“Yes, because I like what I do,” It was the first time I had ever said that out loud. “And to still like what I do, I need to take time out or I will resent what is happening to these kids.” Then I think about how blessed I am. Looking at the river I had just paddle down, the awesome vision of ridges carved over thousands of centuries and the feel of the sun warming my skin, I wish I could share all of this with the kids. Children have a way of making you feel incredibly special with their innocence and I love that. So for now, I am content with where I am.

*
Our pick up vehicle was a rattly train carriage on wheels. Somehow Hendrik managed to climb on board but not without muttering ‘For fucks sake’ several times. The ride back was not comfortable for him as the wooden bus jumped and bumped its way back to the campsite. The wind was ever so gentle and feeling clean again, I settled down to my favourite activity, falling asleep to music outside in the sun.

“If I could find food like this in Asia, I would be so happy,” Carl praised, digging into his dinner. I couldn’t agree more, well about the standard of food. Nicole was sitting by herself outside her tent with her dinner and having finished mine I went over with my bottle of beer to keep her company. The sun was going down in rivers of purple and firey orange. “Good food, beautiful scenery, sleeping under the stars and great company, does it get any better than this?” Nicole looked at me, food poised in mid air. “You are asking the wrong girl.” Are you sure you’re on the right tour?

A Year Older

Hendrik found a solution to his neck problem. Illegal amounts of pain killers and alcohol. “Look I can turn my head now!” he made a couple of grabs at his Castle beer and wobbling his head in various directions. The boys were playing pool and the rest of us enjoying the chilled out atmosphere of the bar on the river bank. “I think you fucked him over more with your physio thing,” Carl commented. “Is it supposed to hurt more before it gets better?” I nodded. They didn’t look convinced. “At least you are something,”
“Pardon?”
Carl looked a bit down, “I don’t know what I want to be.” Alex was going to study business marketing and Harald, law. Hendrik was already studying law but at the rate he was going with the drink, he wasn’t capable of defending anything.
“I didn’t always want to be a physio, I just did it and it stuck. I still don’t know what I will do in a few years time.”
“But at least you are something. You’re a physiotherapist, he’s going to be a lawyer and he’s a doctor.”
“What do you like doing?” he looked around him and waved his hands.
“This.”
“So, own a lodge? Do something in the hospitality or public relations.”
“But that is not ‘something’,” he moaned. I decided not to reason with him, after all could anyone reason with me when I was deciding what I wanted to be and where I wanted to go at the same age?

*
Walking back to the tent, I found Derick sitting on the steps looking at the river, head in hand.
“Are you going to bed already?”
I shook my head, “Alex just farted again.”
“I have a headache, not feeling well. I don’t know why,” he rubbed his forehead.
“Maybe you should go to bed?”
“Its early, I can’t go to bed now. Its not like me,” he sighed.
“We are a year older now,” I reasoned. And we were that. It didn’t feel like a year has past, but it has and we are a year older. Our livers are a year older too.

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Photos

Paddling on the Orange River
'Unless I physically couldn't grip the paddle, there wasn't any doubt I would be paddling down the river...'

Gray & William
'What are the chances of us flipping?... hhhmmm - 50/50'

Team America
Trailing behind after taking some photos of a troop of angry baboons

Norway vs South Africa
Alex & Carl were barely an inch above water, ... so Derick continued to splash water at them..

Wild Nights
Screened by some trees from the other paddlers..

Camp Skyline
'From the hills somewhere I could hear William & Gray's cackling laughter'

Camping Wild by the Orange River
Sitting on our 20L buckets waiting for the night to fall...

Final Destination
The Orange River from a riverside hill

Final Destination
The Orange River yet to paddle... I wish I could share this with everyone..

The Paddling Group
Nicole, William, Carl (hidden behind), Harald, Alex, Albert an Anouk... Hendrik downstairs with a stiff neck.

Me & the River
I made it, with the buff not on my head quite right...

Back at Felix United
Showered, rested & soaking it all in

Sundowner
'Good food, great company and beautiful sunset, does it get any better than this?'

Blessed
... yes it does. A year older & I am still in love with this part of the world...