Safari: Days Two and Three
(It’s currently the very early morning of Day Six(?). I’ve got strong Wifi and coffee and electricity and some available time. Yay! I can do a minimum quality post!)
Starting the safari posts on Day Two? Am I inventing some weird counting scheme? No, Day One of the official itinerary, was arriving in Joburg, and meeting my fellow safarinauts. I’m counting along so I can use the itinerary to recall place names. So chillax. It’s Africa. Stuff moves at a different pace here anyway. Much like “mañana” in Mexico doesn’t necessarily mean tomorrow, just not today.
As I was saying. Day Two was driving. That was it. We drove all day, destination: Khama Rhino Sanctuary Camp. Woo hoo, I can now add Botswana to the list of countries I’ve visited.
It was the quietest border crossing I’ve ever experienced. The South Africa side was a decent building with glass and AC for the border patrol guards/officials. No people queued, no cars no…nothing. Just the one immigration official, a troop of monkeys and some Cape starlings flitting about.
We then clambered aboard the Lando and drove across the river to the Botswana side.
This side was a bit different, reflecting the general lower GDP. Got the stamp though, from the one official sitting in the hot office. The one customs man was sitting out on a plastic chair in the shade. No office. No cares either. He called me over and we chatted a bit. Nice fella. ‘Bout my age. Bald. Why do I mention that? Well, he was missing a decent sized chunk of skull from the top of his head. Yikes. I didn’t ask what happened, cuz I didn’t want to know.
We finally arrived about an hour and a half later than “expected.” That meant a couple of things:
1. We missed out on the planned sunset bush drive; and
2. Setting up camp basically in the dark.
For me, erecting my tent in the crepuscular light was a challenge. A challenge I failed. I needed a second set of hands and another solo traveler, Dominic from Germany, kindly lent a hand. How I miss shock-corded, lightweight aluminum poles supporting lightweight nylon tent fabric. Noticing a trend in the adjectives? Yeah, lightweight. This tent is probably 18 kilos. Built to last. It is (mostly) impervious to the rain though, so big bonus points from my perspective!
As is my wont, I woke early. Too early. Nobody else moving. I milled about aimlessly, until Tesh, our primary guide and cook, got up. I helped a bit with food prep. He said it’s the first time any guest had been alive enough to do so. Go me? I now know where the kettle and coffee are located, so I’m not as altruistic as it appears on the surface. I guess I can tote along the rest of the campers, but I’m getting things going for me, baby!
We had a super tight schedule (cue ominous music), so we didn’t have to break down the tents ourselves, just pack our belongings, and head out for a replacement safari drive for the one we missed the night before. Sadly, we got skunked on the namesake of the sanctuary. No rhinos. But we did see some cute gnus. (Here’s where you do your own fave gnu pun. In your heads please. We don’t need others thinking you’re loco.)
We the drove for ten hours? I’m not sure. The time aboard blurs. I spend my time looking out the window, or reading mostly. Sometimes trying to nap vertically. Unfortunately for me, I left my headphones in a bag of other things I didn’t think I’d need at the hotel in Joburg awaiting my return. Good thing I’m not dependent on music or watching something while on the road.
We got to Maun in late afternoon. I’d booked a helicopter flight over the Okavango Delta and along with a few others. After arriving at a store to provision the camp, those who were choppering legged it quickly over to the airport to take mount our air chariots.
We were, again, about ninety minutes later than expected, which was a double edged sword: on one hand, great lighting for the ride, on the other, setting up my part of camp in the dark. Again. The ride was glorious, my first time in a helicopter, and one with no doors. Just cruising around with no definite plan, just to see what we could see brought back memories of late evening flights in Fort Collins <shoutout to Rockhead, Planthead and Arthead!). But then we had doors. And wings. But samesies, nonetheless. Enjoy the pics and vid.
This is gonna be tough to top.
Be kind and take care of yourselves. If you can, care for someone else, too.
Slang, out.
Good memories of flying with MEB.
Go Boneheads! Chopper flight is on my list of things to do. Sounds great Steve.