atravelynn

<green> Since there is not too much current safari planning activity, how about resurrecting some prior memories?

Here's another one of mine.</green>

With all of the security alerts and elevated threat levels for international travel in the past several years, I am pleased to report I had only one “security issue” and that was in 2004.

The lock on the toilet at the ranger station at Volcano National Park malfunctioned while I was inside and I could not get out. Not wanting to miss my first Suza Gorilla Group visit, I frantically tried to force my way out. I even resorted to some shoulder blocks. When might proved unsuccessful I started yelling for help.

The rangers sprang into action and were able to unlock the door with a key from the outside, freeing me within moments. Fortunately no large-scale military intervention was required, no paratroopers from Kigali descended upon the ranger station restroom for a rescue. Needless to say, for the next two days of tracking I chose my stall more wisely to avoid further incident.

As my next trip to the gorillas approaches, I will pay careful attention as to how I conduct myself in the loo for my pre-trek potty stop--that is, if they even allow me use of the facilities again.

sdb2

Here's an example (taken from an article on Botswana's Wild Dogs) of when, to paraphrase Tuco from "The Good, the Bad and the Ugly," it's time to go, go, don't wait.

The radio call came in about 5:30, an hour before sundown. Sage, our driver and guide, turned to us and, with an obvious excited edge to his voice, said, "Another car has sighted the impala running. They are being hunted, perhaps by wild dogs. Let's try to find them." Hearing this, Carlos, our tracker, moved from his foldable seat on the front bumper into the 4x4 Landrover, a precaution he followed whenever we neared predators. And our hearts beat faster at the prospect of seeing one of the African continent's most endangered animals.

A half hour later, after innumerable bounces and jostles as we rode over Botswana's rutted, sandy roads or through the tall grasslands that marked the end of the rainy season (late March), we broke out onto the middle of Chitabe airstrip. Sage turned around once again and apologized, "I'm sorry. We have seen nothing; perhaps now, before it becomes too dark, is a good time to stop for a drink and a snack."

As Sage repositioned the vehicle to the end of the dirt airstrip I tried to reassure my wife, "Don't be disheartened. This is Africa and animals, even elephants and giraffes, can almost miraculously appear and disappear in the blink of an eye. You just never know when you'll have a great sighting."

While Sage prepared our safari "tea," Carlos checked a nearby bush and pronounced it safe for personal use, the cue my wife and I had waited for. As my wife paced back and forth assessing the covering power of the bush from every angle, I began to tend to nature. No sooner had I begun than I spotted a pack of dogs gliding ghost-like across the airstrip in the fading daylight. Thrilled to near carelessness, I jumped from the bush yelling to Sage, "Dogs, dogs!" all the while zipping up. (Safari tip: Zip first, then jump from bush to alert guides.)

Sage instructed us to return to the vehicle immediately so we could try to follow the dogs. As we dashed back, my wife trailed, lamenting, "But I didn't get to go!" A clear case of you snooze you lose, safari style.

(We caught up with the dogs and their kill.)

aknards

I've only been to Africa once, this past September, to Tanzania, but had a wonderful nightime experience that I'll never forget. It was at a tented camp in the Serengeti.

I was walking back to my tent after dinner with my roomate and two other safari mates, Bea and her 75 year old mother(!) We were, of course, being led by a staff person who shined his torch from side to side, into the trees between the tents and way out into the fields surrounding the campsite where herds grazed during the day. Occasionally eyes would glow back in the dark and lions would call in the distance. Bea and I would grab each other and laugh like (immature) schoolgirls.

We got to Bea’s tent first, chatting away, and she was about to unzip the front flap when the staffer threw back his right arm, gesturing for us to stop. We all froze and looked where his light was pointed, down at the front left corner of the tent. There, sticking out no more than three feet from us was the bony butt of a very large animal, fast asleep against the side of the tent.

“Oooohhh,” Bea said, in her sweet lilting voice. “Look how cute.” I cracked up, but was also, for whatever the reason, totally unafraid. “Bea,” I whispered, “this is not some sweet, little Cocker Spaniel puppy. This is a wildebeest. It could gore us to death!”

Meanwhile, the staffer was doing exactly what we’d been told not to do. He was shining his light on the beest, jiggling it back and forth and up and down to get its attention. The beest finally picked up his head (BIG horns!), looked over his left shoulder at us with an expression that said, “Bugger off, I’m not going anywhere,” and went back to sleep.

We all laughed quietly (except the staffer who seemed pretty upset. We were, after all, his responsibility.) Then Bea said, “That’s ok. He’s right next to my bed. We’ll sleep together,” and she unzipped the tent. She helped her mother step in, (I don't think "Mamma" had any idea what was going on), and said good night.

I must say I was jealous. I would have loved to have had a sleeping animal next to me. I think it would have been fabulous to listen to its sleep sounds and breathing - a real life, wildlife lullabye.

atravelynn

Lessons to be learned--don't dawdle on the pit stops and always give the dark night in front of you a once over with your torch.

Sdb2, it is so true how one moment it seems all wildife has deserted you and the next is a hubub of excitement. I think that's what keeps bringing us back.

sdb2

atravelynn-

You're so right. That going from quiet to hubbub, and the spike of adrenaline that accompanies it, is wonderfully addictive.

Steve

phil16c

I'm enjoying your stories and the last one brings back a memory of mine also from the Serengeti.

My husband and I were the only two "campers" in this migration camp and when I surfaced one morning I had the usual greeting from the camp staff of "Good morning, you slept well?" to which I replied "Yes thank you, and you?"
Three heads spun round to stare at me "You did??"

Apart from their incredulous expressions they all looked rather bleary-eyed and I realized I was missing something.

Seems everyone else, including my husband, had been awake all night as who knows how many thousand wildebeest rumbled past the camp - and I slept right through it!

I did see their tracks and I'm surprised they didn't walk right through the tent!

atravelynn

Phil16c,

Now that's a sound sleeper!

phil16c

Thankfully my eyes are a lot sharper than my ears!
I don't miss much on the drives.