‘Right in the Hart of the Africn Jungel a small wite man lives. Now there is won xtrordnery fackt about him that he is the frind of all animals’
(Gerald Durrell, aged 10)
The birds woke me early so I took the opportunity to walk along the river bank waiting for the sun to rise. What better way to start your day than searching for crocs and listening to all sorts of new bird sounds whilst waiting for the sunrise?
I’d really quite scared myself with how thin I’d managed to become over just five days. Even after the two dinners I’d devoured the previous evening I still woke hungry in the night and polished off a 250g bag of nuts and sultanas and not a food baby in sight! So I determined to eat a lot during my time in Maun and also that I would now extend my time here by a day to three nights and two days.
There was a fair bit of admin I’d need to sort before leaving the Okavango, but that could wait till tomorrow. Today was all about the delta. In case any of you don’t know what I’m banging on about when I refer to the ‘Okavango’ or the ‘delta’ I’ll briefly try and explain. The habitat here is not like any other habitat in Africa (or perhaps even the world) The Okavango river is born of the rains far to the north in the mountains of Angola after which it flows south through Namibia’s Caprivi Strip before reaching the hot dry expanses of the Kalahari. Here it spreads out to form the Okavango delta, which unlike most river deltas never reaches the ocean, but just dries up under clear hot skies. The flow on the river is not constant and varies by season and form year to year. This results in an annual flood which is some times very small and sometimes immense. Occasionally when the flood is big enough water spills over into lake Ngami to the south west (next to Sehitwa where I stayed with the police) or into the Boteti river flowing to the south east and into the Makadikadi salt pans (I will be following the course of the Boteti once I depart from Maun.
This year’s flood is the biggest for twenty two years and has already penetrated some way down the Boteti. The consequence of all this water lying under clear blue tropical skies in the middle of the hot Kalahari wastes is a natural paradise of shallow flooded grassland and reeds studded with a multitude of islands of all shapes and sizes.
…and that’s where I was headed today!
The real luxury safaris use light aircraft to access the inner delta where the greatest concentrations of animals are (I’ve decided not to use the term ‘game’… because they’re not), even so there’s still a lot one can see on a budget. I took a boat up the river which runs past the Old Bridge until I reached a village on the edge of the true delta itself. Here I hired a Mokoro (a kind of canoe/punt cross) with a guide and we headed out north through the reeds aiming for one of the larger islands.
Being punted along was very peaceful and extremely relaxing after the unrelenting efforts of the previous days. It was still quite early and the air was cooler than I’d experienced lately. This was probably due to being surrounded by water rather than hot sand, but perhaps also because I was no longer tasked with goading my heavy bike down the road.
One of the most fascinating parts for me was the small things. There were many lily pads and their large magnificent accompanying white and yellow flowers. Many of the lily pads were crammed with pond skaters presumably seeking refuge from fishes below, which scattered in all directions as the mokoro approached. Occasionally there were groups of plants with lovely pink flowers and everywhere there were grasses with all sorts of different seed heads. Up in the air there were a lot of dragonflies. These seemed to be mostly two species. Medium sized red ones which tended to sit tight until the last possible moment before launching off to find another reed and much larger blue ones which seemed to be constantly airborne and would fly ahead of the mokoro for sometime before eventually peeling off to one side.
This section of the delta was vast and open and from my, admittedly low, vantage point stretched as far as the eye could see. Only the occasional palms on the horizon hinted at nearby dry land. We occasionally passed very small islands created by termites around their nests. I guess as the waters creep steadily higher they must steadily evacuate higher and higher into their clay citadels to wait out the flood, hoping they’ve built high enough to see this one out.
Sometimes the grass gave over to longer reeds which closed in tightly around us though didn’t seem to slow us down and my guide just seemed to carve his own path, ignoring the elephant trails we occasionally crossed. Identifiable, not only by their width, but by the frequent lumps of light brown fibrous dung floating along them.
Closer inspection of the reeds themselves revealed we had actually been passing many tiny little frogs which pressed themselves close to the shafts of the reeds as we came closer. They seemed very confident of their camouflage and I was able to get really quite close with the camera lens, only plopping into the water below if I actually tried to pick them up. The two main types seemed to be a light green one with bright red toes and a brilliant white one with a bright red belly. I never saw any fishes, but the frequent splashes and ripples of the water betrayed their presence (or perhaps that was crocs!)
Out in the middle of this open section the bird calls were much reduced compared to the river bank at the old bridge, but there were still many birds here. The most common was the African Jacana (spelling?) which looks like a brown moorhen with a blue head and is quite beautiful was it walks gracefully across the lily pads with its enormous feet. There was an occasional low booming call from some bird I never saw and frequent flashes of the Pied Kingfisher (same shape as the one native to the Britain but about twice the size and black and white). These would occasionally hover in the air before making often multiple darting lunges at some unlucky creature in the water below.
My compass indicated we were still heading pretty much due north and just my late morning we reached land. After pulling the mokoro up the banks and sorting out what kit to take with us and what could be safely left behind for our return we set out through the trees. Very quickly the woodland opened out into low scrub, which in turn swiftly gave way to open yellow grassland. I was quite surprised how dry and dusty the terrain was, given the proximity to so much water. I guess things get pretty dry after twenty two years. We passed a dried up waterhole with Gnu and Zebra prints everywhere. A Bateluer Eagle sailed past cocking its head in our direction to see what we were up to. It seemed to just be surveying the area for any interesting opportunities and treated us to none of the aerial acrobatics which give it its name. There were quite a few elephant holes about. They dig these to reach water and to mine mud which they use to coat themselves against biting insects and the sun (can Elephants get sunburn?). There were also quite a number of huge termite mounds well over three times my height. These provided great vantage points from which to employ the binoculars, but so far nothing to see other than a few warthogs and a far off lone impala.
We eventually reached the far side of the grassland and passed back into low scrub and acacia woodland. We came across the bones of a long dead Elephant. It died five years ago according to my guide and by now the bones were bleached pure white by the sun. They had been fairly well scattered about by Hyenas, but it was still quite possible to identify which were which. The skull and pelvis were immense. I managed to find the atlanto-axial vertebrae which were each the size of dinner plates. I’m told the elephant is one of the few mammals with a penis bone. I didn’t spot that, but perhaps this had been a lady?
Then a little beyond the bones the vegetation opened out once more…and then I spotted him. I’d climbed another termite mound and there about two hundred yards away was a massive bull Elephant. He was huge and had an impressive set of tusks. I’ve once read that before humans Elephants were nature’s masterpiece (John Reader, I think). Quite true. He didn’t seem aware of our presence (there was a cross wind and they have poor eyesight) and was peacefully standing gently flapping his ears in the heat beside a small tree from which he would occasionally rip branches with his trunk. I took a few shots from the vantage point of the termite mound incase he decided to suddenly head off and then dropped down into the long grass to get a bit closer. There were quite a number of big bushes for cover and I eventually managed to get within about thirty yards before I decided it would be foolhardy to go any closer (I was probably actually too close already), I’m told elephants can’t run but they can walk at thirty miles an hour. In any case this was close enough, I could hear his breathing. I just sat there for a while until for a moment he stiffened slightly and turned in my direction with his ears slightly opened before settling back to what he’d been doing. I guessed I’d been rumbled and crept away before I outstayed my welcome.
Walking back we passed some mighty Baobabs, they really are very impressive organisms, they make even elephants look tiny. There were more birds about. As we walked sungrass birds would start up with a bark into the air almost at out feet. They are so named because their camouflage is so good apparently even if you look straight at them they look either like the sun on cast on the dust of like grass. Certainly I never spotted one before it became airborne.
We reached the canoes just after one o’clock and rested in the shade until two, avoiding the heat of the day. I found a comfortable spot under a Baobab. Near the water (but not too near) and set to sorting my schedule. Those tough days around Ghanzi had paid off and I was now back on schedule and could afford to spent the extra night at the Old Bridge. I’d even be able to spend two nights in Nelspruit, possibly visiting Kruger and still be able to have two nights at Catch’s in Manzini. And all this without many more big days and none like the Ghanzi epics. This was great!
At two we started back across the flooded grasslands towards the village. There I met a Swiss guy from near Shaffhausen. He was inspecting the mokoros and said there was no way he was getting in one incase he a croc tried to grab him. We traveled back down the river together. It seemed he was afraid of everything not just crocs. Lions, Hyenas, Leopards (he went white as a sheet when I told him of my night on the Bosua Pass) he was even afraid off flying and lightning! He’d read all the stories in the guide books and of course thought my trip was suicidal. Strangely he was traveling around Africa using local transport, a great way to get about, but if you’ve ever seem the state of some of the vehicles (or their drivers) surely far more dangerous than cycling!
The evening by the bar was very relaxing. I’d got on well with the owner David the previous evening and he kindly invited me and a couple from London I’d become friends with out with his friends on his boat to see the full moon. This was pretty amazing once the engine was off and we were just floating slowing down the river. Even with the bright moon the stars were very bright. The Milky Way was an obvious band across the sky. I finally managed to get someone to point out the Southern Cross and how one finds south with it (a much more laborious process than with our plough in the North) and I also saw Scorpio for the first time with it’s tail astride the milky way.
I told them about the Swiss chap which triggered off everyone’s tales of close encounters with crocs hyenas and other wild beasts. It was a great evening.
(Gerald Durrell, aged 10)
The birds woke me early so I took the opportunity to walk along the river bank waiting for the sun to rise. What better way to start your day than searching for crocs and listening to all sorts of new bird sounds whilst waiting for the sunrise?
I’d really quite scared myself with how thin I’d managed to become over just five days. Even after the two dinners I’d devoured the previous evening I still woke hungry in the night and polished off a 250g bag of nuts and sultanas and not a food baby in sight! So I determined to eat a lot during my time in Maun and also that I would now extend my time here by a day to three nights and two days.
There was a fair bit of admin I’d need to sort before leaving the Okavango, but that could wait till tomorrow. Today was all about the delta. In case any of you don’t know what I’m banging on about when I refer to the ‘Okavango’ or the ‘delta’ I’ll briefly try and explain. The habitat here is not like any other habitat in Africa (or perhaps even the world) The Okavango river is born of the rains far to the north in the mountains of Angola after which it flows south through Namibia’s Caprivi Strip before reaching the hot dry expanses of the Kalahari. Here it spreads out to form the Okavango delta, which unlike most river deltas never reaches the ocean, but just dries up under clear hot skies. The flow on the river is not constant and varies by season and form year to year. This results in an annual flood which is some times very small and sometimes immense. Occasionally when the flood is big enough water spills over into lake Ngami to the south west (next to Sehitwa where I stayed with the police) or into the Boteti river flowing to the south east and into the Makadikadi salt pans (I will be following the course of the Boteti once I depart from Maun.
This year’s flood is the biggest for twenty two years and has already penetrated some way down the Boteti. The consequence of all this water lying under clear blue tropical skies in the middle of the hot Kalahari wastes is a natural paradise of shallow flooded grassland and reeds studded with a multitude of islands of all shapes and sizes.
…and that’s where I was headed today!
The real luxury safaris use light aircraft to access the inner delta where the greatest concentrations of animals are (I’ve decided not to use the term ‘game’… because they’re not), even so there’s still a lot one can see on a budget. I took a boat up the river which runs past the Old Bridge until I reached a village on the edge of the true delta itself. Here I hired a Mokoro (a kind of canoe/punt cross) with a guide and we headed out north through the reeds aiming for one of the larger islands.
Being punted along was very peaceful and extremely relaxing after the unrelenting efforts of the previous days. It was still quite early and the air was cooler than I’d experienced lately. This was probably due to being surrounded by water rather than hot sand, but perhaps also because I was no longer tasked with goading my heavy bike down the road.
One of the most fascinating parts for me was the small things. There were many lily pads and their large magnificent accompanying white and yellow flowers. Many of the lily pads were crammed with pond skaters presumably seeking refuge from fishes below, which scattered in all directions as the mokoro approached. Occasionally there were groups of plants with lovely pink flowers and everywhere there were grasses with all sorts of different seed heads. Up in the air there were a lot of dragonflies. These seemed to be mostly two species. Medium sized red ones which tended to sit tight until the last possible moment before launching off to find another reed and much larger blue ones which seemed to be constantly airborne and would fly ahead of the mokoro for sometime before eventually peeling off to one side.
This section of the delta was vast and open and from my, admittedly low, vantage point stretched as far as the eye could see. Only the occasional palms on the horizon hinted at nearby dry land. We occasionally passed very small islands created by termites around their nests. I guess as the waters creep steadily higher they must steadily evacuate higher and higher into their clay citadels to wait out the flood, hoping they’ve built high enough to see this one out.
Sometimes the grass gave over to longer reeds which closed in tightly around us though didn’t seem to slow us down and my guide just seemed to carve his own path, ignoring the elephant trails we occasionally crossed. Identifiable, not only by their width, but by the frequent lumps of light brown fibrous dung floating along them.
Closer inspection of the reeds themselves revealed we had actually been passing many tiny little frogs which pressed themselves close to the shafts of the reeds as we came closer. They seemed very confident of their camouflage and I was able to get really quite close with the camera lens, only plopping into the water below if I actually tried to pick them up. The two main types seemed to be a light green one with bright red toes and a brilliant white one with a bright red belly. I never saw any fishes, but the frequent splashes and ripples of the water betrayed their presence (or perhaps that was crocs!)
Out in the middle of this open section the bird calls were much reduced compared to the river bank at the old bridge, but there were still many birds here. The most common was the African Jacana (spelling?) which looks like a brown moorhen with a blue head and is quite beautiful was it walks gracefully across the lily pads with its enormous feet. There was an occasional low booming call from some bird I never saw and frequent flashes of the Pied Kingfisher (same shape as the one native to the Britain but about twice the size and black and white). These would occasionally hover in the air before making often multiple darting lunges at some unlucky creature in the water below.
My compass indicated we were still heading pretty much due north and just my late morning we reached land. After pulling the mokoro up the banks and sorting out what kit to take with us and what could be safely left behind for our return we set out through the trees. Very quickly the woodland opened out into low scrub, which in turn swiftly gave way to open yellow grassland. I was quite surprised how dry and dusty the terrain was, given the proximity to so much water. I guess things get pretty dry after twenty two years. We passed a dried up waterhole with Gnu and Zebra prints everywhere. A Bateluer Eagle sailed past cocking its head in our direction to see what we were up to. It seemed to just be surveying the area for any interesting opportunities and treated us to none of the aerial acrobatics which give it its name. There were quite a few elephant holes about. They dig these to reach water and to mine mud which they use to coat themselves against biting insects and the sun (can Elephants get sunburn?). There were also quite a number of huge termite mounds well over three times my height. These provided great vantage points from which to employ the binoculars, but so far nothing to see other than a few warthogs and a far off lone impala.
We eventually reached the far side of the grassland and passed back into low scrub and acacia woodland. We came across the bones of a long dead Elephant. It died five years ago according to my guide and by now the bones were bleached pure white by the sun. They had been fairly well scattered about by Hyenas, but it was still quite possible to identify which were which. The skull and pelvis were immense. I managed to find the atlanto-axial vertebrae which were each the size of dinner plates. I’m told the elephant is one of the few mammals with a penis bone. I didn’t spot that, but perhaps this had been a lady?
Then a little beyond the bones the vegetation opened out once more…and then I spotted him. I’d climbed another termite mound and there about two hundred yards away was a massive bull Elephant. He was huge and had an impressive set of tusks. I’ve once read that before humans Elephants were nature’s masterpiece (John Reader, I think). Quite true. He didn’t seem aware of our presence (there was a cross wind and they have poor eyesight) and was peacefully standing gently flapping his ears in the heat beside a small tree from which he would occasionally rip branches with his trunk. I took a few shots from the vantage point of the termite mound incase he decided to suddenly head off and then dropped down into the long grass to get a bit closer. There were quite a number of big bushes for cover and I eventually managed to get within about thirty yards before I decided it would be foolhardy to go any closer (I was probably actually too close already), I’m told elephants can’t run but they can walk at thirty miles an hour. In any case this was close enough, I could hear his breathing. I just sat there for a while until for a moment he stiffened slightly and turned in my direction with his ears slightly opened before settling back to what he’d been doing. I guessed I’d been rumbled and crept away before I outstayed my welcome.
Walking back we passed some mighty Baobabs, they really are very impressive organisms, they make even elephants look tiny. There were more birds about. As we walked sungrass birds would start up with a bark into the air almost at out feet. They are so named because their camouflage is so good apparently even if you look straight at them they look either like the sun on cast on the dust of like grass. Certainly I never spotted one before it became airborne.
We reached the canoes just after one o’clock and rested in the shade until two, avoiding the heat of the day. I found a comfortable spot under a Baobab. Near the water (but not too near) and set to sorting my schedule. Those tough days around Ghanzi had paid off and I was now back on schedule and could afford to spent the extra night at the Old Bridge. I’d even be able to spend two nights in Nelspruit, possibly visiting Kruger and still be able to have two nights at Catch’s in Manzini. And all this without many more big days and none like the Ghanzi epics. This was great!
At two we started back across the flooded grasslands towards the village. There I met a Swiss guy from near Shaffhausen. He was inspecting the mokoros and said there was no way he was getting in one incase he a croc tried to grab him. We traveled back down the river together. It seemed he was afraid of everything not just crocs. Lions, Hyenas, Leopards (he went white as a sheet when I told him of my night on the Bosua Pass) he was even afraid off flying and lightning! He’d read all the stories in the guide books and of course thought my trip was suicidal. Strangely he was traveling around Africa using local transport, a great way to get about, but if you’ve ever seem the state of some of the vehicles (or their drivers) surely far more dangerous than cycling!
The evening by the bar was very relaxing. I’d got on well with the owner David the previous evening and he kindly invited me and a couple from London I’d become friends with out with his friends on his boat to see the full moon. This was pretty amazing once the engine was off and we were just floating slowing down the river. Even with the bright moon the stars were very bright. The Milky Way was an obvious band across the sky. I finally managed to get someone to point out the Southern Cross and how one finds south with it (a much more laborious process than with our plough in the North) and I also saw Scorpio for the first time with it’s tail astride the milky way.
I told them about the Swiss chap which triggered off everyone’s tales of close encounters with crocs hyenas and other wild beasts. It was a great evening.
