http://keithv.com/blog/index.php Copyright 2013, Keith Vertanen Keith Vertanen en-US SPHPBLOG 0.7.0 http://keithv.com/blog/index.php?entry=entry991130-120000

The members of the Tazzie expedition.

After the ride to the ferry terminal (and after we all revived feeling in various appendages), we got on the Spirit of Tasmania ferry for the overnight trip to Davenport. Upon arriving in Davenport, we took a bus to the Cradle Valley, the start of the track. As we gained altitude, it got whiter and whiter. Oh oh. When we told the ranger we wanted to do the Overland track, he more or less just laughed at us. They had gotten an unseasonable amount of snow, there was waist deep snow on most of the track and five foot drifts in spots.


Keith by the river at Cradle Mountain park.

Unwilling to accept his opinion, we took off on several day walk trails to see for ourselves. The trails were wet, I meet W-E-T, wet. It was more like walking in a creek then on a trail. I've got two words for you: Gore-tex boots, gotta have them (and most of us didn't). Even after the walk, most of the group was still keen on doing the track. I remained reserved, I doubted the experience level of several of the group and we all didn't have the right gear (waterproof boots and breathable raingear).

After spending the night in a cooking shelter at the local campsite, the group came back to reality. We decided to abort the Overland track and search for a more pleasant area. It was at this point that our expedition suffered its first casualty, John decided that he didn't have the money to travel anywhere else and decided to take the bus back to Davenport and take the ferry home. The remaining five, along with two Germans who had also planned to do the Overland track, hired a bus to take us from Cradle Valley to Freyinet national park on the east coast of Tasmania.


Sunrise after a frigid night on the east coast of Taz.

Freyinet park is a mountainous peninsula with lots of bays and beaches. We camped the first night right on the beach near where the bus dropped us off. The park is very dry and all the creeks are dry as a bone. We had to sneak into this plush eco-tour condo place and fill our water bottles (nobody was around, but there were eggs and toothpaste in the kitchen so somebody was staying there).

The second day we parted with the Germans and later that day Dave sprained his ankle. Luckily he had the courtesy to do so right near a car park. We carried him up the trail and shipped him off in a car headed for Hobart. Now there were four, Art, Johan, Dean and me. We hiked around, climbed some mountains, and saw a group of dolphins feeding off the shore. A wallaby (small version of a kangaroo) got into my trail mix (scroggin as they say here, we have endless amusement with that). Bastard chomped a couple holes in my prized ziploc freezer bag (they only sell cheap gladloc bags here). I could tell Dean (guy from England) wasn't really having a good time. His feet blistered up badly after the first day of walking (10km on easy 4x4 trails, yeez). It's a good thing we didn't do the Overland, Dean wouldn't have survived. Johan the workaholic also decided he needed to get back to study. So after 5 days into the expedition, it was only Art and I that remained.


Wineglass bay in Freyinet park.

Art and I spent the next few days walking to the end of the peninsula and back. We ate very well as we now had food for 6 people and had only 2. We climbed the highest mountain in the park and decided we'd seen enough and headed out of the park.


Wallaby on the beat at Freyinet.

We managed to catch a ride out of the park. The driver was headed to Hobart, so we said 'cool, we'll go to Hobart'. Only the driver I guess didn't like how we smelled, so he dropped us off at the first town. Oh well... We spent the night in a caravan park and had a much needed shower. Art and I spent the next week hostelling around the east coast.

We met an American girl up in Bicheno that tipped us off to this hostel down in Lune River, the southern most hostel in Australia. The Lune river hostel is just ace. There is no town nearby, it is just a hostel geared towards outdoor people. They have heaps of walking tracks nearby, a river, and some caves. We spent the first day kayaking on the river. Well I don't know if I'd call it a kayak. It was pretty much a 2-seat covered canoe with kayak paddles. The thing cornered like a sled... But on the plus side we did collect 54 oysters, 1 clam and caught 1 flathead fish.


The Lune river outside of the hostel.

We also had Dean, the hostel manager, take us caving one night. He equipped us with helmets, head torches, overalls and boots (this wasn't no tourist cave trip, this was the real deal). We entered the first big cavern of the cave system. Dean told us to sit down on this big rock and turn off our lights. On the ceiling of the cavern are just hundred of green glow worms. It was sort of like looking at the stars. We spent the next 2 hours exploring the caves. The trickiest part was 'matchbox squeeze' where you have to squirm on your side through a passage that is only about a foot wide.


Keith squirming through a tight spot in the cave.

After Lune River, Art and I headed up to Georgetown to catch our flight back to the mainland. Art needed to get back for a test on Wednesday. We had called previously and Promair had told us that they had flights Monday and Tuesday night at 11:30pm. When we called them from Georgetown however, they said they had just received 3 tons of fish and couldn't get us on until Wednesday morning. We got bumped by fish... After an exciting few days in Georgetown (I went to the public library one day), we got our flight. It was a twin engine prop, just Art, I and the pilot. Art got to sit in the copilots seat. This got us to Whelshpool where we caught a lift with a Promair person to a train station which got Art back just hours before his test. All and all, quite the adventure. Not what we'd expected, but then I suppose it wouldn't have been an adventure.

I've got two weeks left before I leave on walkabout. Speak now or forever hold your peace...

]]> Trip reports, Australian tour http://keithv.com/blog/index.php?entry=entry991130-120000 Keith Vertanen Tue, 30 Nov 1999 00:00:00 GMT http://keithv.com/blog/comments.php?y=99&m=11&entry=entry991130-120000 http://keithv.com/blog/index.php?entry=entry980828-120000

Neil and Sara wandering the street of Zanzibar city.

I eventually, after several attempts, found the hotel Neil, Sara and I were staying in. Neil and Sara returned from their tour, they had arrived in Zanzibar just the pervious day. They were delayed in Dar while they tried to get replacement airline tickets for Sara. On the bus from Arusha, they had their day packs in the overhead bins above them. The bus was stopped in Moshi to pick up more passengers, Neil checked the packs, yep still there. Five seconds later, one pack had vanished. The thief didn't get much else except the souvenirs Sara had bought in Vic Falls, they sure must've been pissed to find a wood elephant and not the gold and jewels we mzungus usually carry around.


Preparing my mask with the patented spit defogging agent.

The next day we went on a scuba/snorkeling trip with the Australians. The reef around Zanzibar is quite nice and the visibility was excellent. We did some curio shopping after the dive trip, always bartering the prices down to or 1/3 original price. Neil and Sara eventually closed a package curio deal with a vendor know as Mr. Cheapo, finishing their shopping requirements. I went back to Mr. Cheapo the next day to negotiate my own super duper deal.


Neil and the Australian hanging out in the water.

We visited the waterfront area for dinner, all the local vendors are out selling fried squid tentacles, calamarie, sugar cane juice and other interesting dishes. We met a young Tanzanian kid who followed us around all evening. As far as we could tell, he had no ulterior motive, he just wanted to practice his English, his dream was to go to America someday.

Our next day, we had a taxi take us to the south part of the island. Here you can rent snorkel gear and head out on a boat to swim with the dolphins. Our boat had to stop several times on the way out for spot repairs to be made to our outboard motor. We finally reached an area with dolphins, I jumped out and started the chase. Those dolphins make it look easy, you can be swimming full bore after one while they lazily swim along, toying with you, then they turn on the afterburners and they disappear in the distance. I never got close enough to touch one, but I got within a few yards.


View from the hammock.

On our last day in Africa we took a dhow over to a beach island. We rented a little grass shelter, complete with hammock. We relaxed all day- dozing, swimming, playing frisbee, and boogie boarding. Neil and Sara flew home the next day, while I had to wait one more day for my flight.

On the ride to the airport, I realized I was sick of Africa. The sight of all the people, bikes, cattle, roadside shacks, it just started to annoy me. Culture shock on the last day, pretty convenient timing, makes it easy to leave. I sat at the Dar airport, waiting and waiting for my flight. I was pretty down on Africa when a Tanzanian business man sat down near me. He greeted my in Swahili, I responded with what little Swahili I had learned. He was an interesting guy, working for the agricultural ministry, going to Amsterdam for 3 months of classes. He had a leather handbag, that was his luggage, all of it. He laughed, "You mzungus always carry around so much stuff", pointing at my big checked bag and carry-on. Yeah, I guess we do; spare batteries, sun cream, insect repellent, sterile syringes, clothesline, a hundred other "necessities". What would it be like to head off to a distant land carrying just a small handbag? No space ship of western essentials. Thanks for the inspiration buddy.

]]> Trip reports, African safari http://keithv.com/blog/index.php?entry=entry980828-120000 Keith Vertanen Thu, 27 Aug 1998 23:00:00 GMT http://keithv.com/blog/comments.php?y=98&m=08&entry=entry980828-120000 http://keithv.com/blog/index.php?entry=entry980821-120000
Three men taking a break at the building in from of the YMCA.

Despite being 7pm on Sunday, I was ushered in by the nurse. The doctor looked to be fresh out of some cracker-jack med school and kept asking for advice from the nurse in Swahili. It was all a bit scary, he was obviously nervous, I don't like nervous guys with scalpels. The deed was done, my abscist was cleaned out and I was given a round of the proper anti-biotic for the problem. Neil and Sara headed out on safari in the morning, I decided to wait in Arusha for several days to see how my arm healed. I explored Arusha, repeating the phrase "no safari, have safari" to every local that approached. After a checkup visit with a more competent doctor, I was ready to hit the mountain.


My support staff: a guide and two porters.

You can't just put on your boots and start up Kilimanjaro. You have to hire a guide, the guide requires a porter for himself, and then while you're at it, might as well get a porter for yourself as well. I had paid a company in Arusha to make the arrangements, around $600 for a six-day trek, plus another $100 to cover the Visa surcharge (don't use credit cards in Tanzania!).


The rough terrain this guy covered with this basket on his head was amazing!

I decided to climb the Machame route, a more scenic alternative to the standard "coca-cola" route (called this because you can purchase coke and beer at the huts on this route, though the price varies proportionally to the altitude). The safari company had said there were two other Americans on the trek with me, but apparently the Americans had decided on another route (or didn't exist at all). After a bus, a crammed minibus, and a 45-minute walk, we were at the trailhead. You get what you pay for I suppose, and I had paid the minimum I could find.


On a little pre-dinner hike, Shira plateau.

I had the flu or something that day, I was feeling awful before we even left Arusha. I would have delayed the trip by a day or two if I'd known I was the only client. I started taking Diamox, an anti-altitude drug, figuring I was going to need all the help I could get. Diamox is a diuretic, in the six hours we hiked that day, I drank 4 liters of water and it just went right through me. Leaving your warm sleeping bag three times a night is a bit annoying.


Birds sailing on the thermals at high camp, Mt. Meru in the background.

Though I wasn't overtly hungry, I ate a big dinner of pasta accompanied by sunset above the clouds. Turned in at 7:30pm, not much nightlife up here. We spent the next day traversing across the south-side of the mountain. Our highpoint was 4500m (14,700ft), but we dropped back down to camp at the Barranco hut, 3950m (13,000 ft). The walking is easy, but our pace is slow, like a funeral march. I'm able to keep up with the porters, but I'm not carrying much.


A nice snack of mellon at 14,000ft, now this is mountaineering!

Another pleasant day hiking, on the flat portions the guide Brenda would whistle or sing church hymns in Swahili. We reached the Mweka ridge and headed up to our high camp, the Barafu Hut 4600m (15,000ft). The altitude was now starting to hit me, I was feeling nauseous when we arrived at the hut. I felt better after eating my daily snack of popcorn and peanuts. My legs were stiff but pain is temporary right? I can see our ascent route to the summit, it looks steep, it looks long. Just put one foot in front of the other, repeat. Nothing left to do but to do it.


Sunset the night before the summit bid.

Initially the route was fairly easy, but it quickly turned steeper. I followed Brenda and tried to keep up. With this little oxygen, it is amazing how easily you tire. All I could think about was sitting down on the next rock and taking a break. I did have to take numerous breaks, but Brenda would only let me rest 2 minutes saying "After 2 minutes, you lose power!" Mentally tough, physically strong.

Up, up, up. Headlights illuminating the rocky, scree path. Damn I'd kill for some good solid snow steps. My hands and toes were getting numb. It wasn't that cold, the air was calm, but with the lack of oxygen, your body simply has trouble keeping warm. Wiggle your toes and fingers Keith.

Nobody going to break my stride, nobody going to slow me down, oh no, I got to keep on moving

Doesn't this thing ever end? Every time we crest, I think we are nearing the top, but ever time another hill appears looming ahead in the pre-dawn twilight. Another wave of sickness, Brenda puts his hand on my shoulder "Vomiting, vomiting is no problem. Do you have sunscreen? You should put on some sunscreen." Sisu.


Looking down the route to the summit, high camp is down in one of the saddles.

The glowing yellow circle in front of me, grew dimmer and dimmer. Time to change batteries in my maglite. My actions were slow and deliberate, but no fumbling, a good sign. Wiggle those toes and fingers, can't forget! Up and up we climbed.

Ichi - ni - san - shi -go -roku - shichi - hachi - kyu - ju.

With each step, one Japanese number. I pretended my old sensei from Morris was standing next to me, calling out the cadence. I did this again and again, for hours. Ichi - ni - san - shi -go -roku - shichi - hachi - kyu - ju.

The rock turned to snow, I finally had semi-solid places to step. I powered up with newfound energy. We crested the ridge and arrived under a large overhanging boulder. "Welcome to Stellar Point!" Brenda announced. Alleluia! This wasn't the summit, but from here it was an easy 30 minute walk in the park to the true summit.

Predawn glow from the top.

We followed the snow trail, the pace still slow but the grade was much easier. We arrived at the top of a small snow hill, we could go no higher- "I'm on top of the world, looking down on creation"

Brenda and I on the summit with the obligatory pack of Mentos.

It was still before dawn, the first glows of sunrise could be seen along the cloud line that surround the mountain. I got out my camera to snap some photos. The lens was stuck, but I managed to free it up, albeit temporarily, by breathing onto it. We were the first on top that morning, but we didn't stay long. All I could think about was getting down to where the air was thicker.

]]> Trip reports, African safari http://keithv.com/blog/index.php?entry=entry980821-120000 Keith Vertanen Thu, 20 Aug 1998 23:00:00 GMT http://keithv.com/blog/comments.php?y=98&m=08&entry=entry980821-120000 http://keithv.com/blog/index.php?entry=entry980814-120000

Double rainbow at Vic Falls.

I spent the day exploring the park by Victoria Falls with Neil and Sara. The falls are quiet magnificent, it is not like Niagara Falls where you have just a few main falls dumping huge amounts of water. Vic Falls is very spread out, hundreds of small waterfalls dot the cliff for maybe a kilometer. It was now officially hot, the spray from the falls was a refreshing way to cool down. It was a new experience, I was camera-less for the first time ever. Just had to appreciate the falls with my own two eyes. There were no rainbows to be found that day, the sun must have been too high in the sky.


Large cactus plant.

The police commissioner talked to be on the phone, he really wanted us to attend the trial. He said they "had to waive certain rights", but in order to expedite the return of our stuff, they were going to try the boys the next day. We were due to leave the next day, but fortunately there was a night train we could take to catch back up with our truck. The trial was an interesting experience. Everything was translated into English, so we could understand quite well what was going on. We watched several other cases go before the court, the defendants had to represent themselves as best they could, I guess lawyers are only available to those that can pay.

Katie and I only had to testify if the man we saw decided to plead not guilty. I reminded the police officer that I couldn't identify the guy, "oh no problem, he'll be the one on the right." He choose to plead guilty, his sentence we were told would be around 3-5 years. The sentence had been reduced in order to try him at this lower court, otherwise he would have had a minimum of 15 years. The boy was 17 years old, just a kid. I'm glad he got a reduced charge, maybe he can still turn his life around.


Can you find the face in the rocks?

The next morning we arrived in Bullawayo and rejoined our Truck. It was time for a day safari out to Rhodes national park. This was great, no sooner had we gotten inside the park gate then we saw two rhinos. In this park, you are allowed to approach the white rhinos only if you are accompanied by a trained guide. We got within 100 feet of these giants. They were pretty mellow, I'd hate to be around if they were in an ornery mood. Black rhinos are suppose to be much more aggressive, you can't get that close to them.


Out for a little afternoon snack.

Our truck tour was winding down. One of our last stops was the Mopani horse camp in Zimbabwe. Honestly, I don't think I've ever ridden a horse before. The camp instructor said that playing 'polocross' was the perfect way to learn. You divide into two teams, everybody has things long sticks with baskets. There is a goal on each side of the field, you try to throw the ball into the goal. There are other rules like only the offensive player is allowed beyond a certain points, etc. My steed was Chief, he was big, but he wasn't so fast. One of the instructors kept telling me to kick him harder, but I was afraid I was going to hurt the poor guy. The whole game would grind to a halt while I tried to get Chief to take me to the offensive front-line.


Richard putting on some new brakes. Now that is one bad truck!

From the horse camp, it was on to Harare, the capital of Zimbabwe and the terminus for our Truck Africa adventure. We had a couple farewell dinners, the final one involving a delicious game platter of ostrich, kudu, zebra and wildebeest, oh baby! No more of the simple carefree life of an organized tour, Neil, Sara and I were now responsible for figuring things out ourselves.

]]> Trip reports, African safari http://keithv.com/blog/index.php?entry=entry980814-120000 Keith Vertanen Thu, 13 Aug 1998 23:00:00 GMT http://keithv.com/blog/comments.php?y=98&m=08&entry=entry980814-120000 http://keithv.com/blog/index.php?entry=entry980807-120000
I restricted myself to just doing the rafting. I could hardly pass up the opportunity to raft the Zambezi. This river has got some big whitewater, class II-VI, but the run-outs are good making it relatively safe for whitewater this big. Our raft was all people from the truck: Neil, Sara, Rick, Sophia, Hugo and myself. We were initially a little concerned with our guide "doc". While all the other groups were busy practicing different rafting type drills, we were floating around in circles, doc was just chillin. But we discovered later why doc was so calm, he was just that damn good.

I was in the front of the raft, at times the oncoming waves towered over us like skyscrapers. I discovered quickly there were times to paddle and there were times to hold on, you get really pounded up there. We made the first sixth rapids without major problems (Neil somehow fell out in a class II, don't ask me how). As we approached number seven "the gnashing jaws of death", doc explained that this one was a bit difficult and we could opt to walk around it. No way jose!

Our run started out as normal, but a few confusing moments later, I found myself slammed from my seat onto the floor of the raft. I returned to my position to start paddling again, Rick and Sophia were gone. Doc started yelling "pull him in", so I jumped over to help Neil haul Rick back in. Sophia didn't show up until we had beached at the end of the rapids. She was a bit stunned, but otherwise unharmed. We found out one of doc's oars had gotten stuck in the frame, somehow he had managed to remain in control, otherwise we would have flipped for sure.

We ran all the rapids that day without flipping, a bit of a feat, most boats went over at least once. We walked around the class VI (extreme risk to life) "commercial suicide", only the guides run that one. Holy big whitewater! The thing just tosses the boats around like little toys, amazing sight. I managed to stay in the boat all day. I've swam rapids before, it just ain't much fun. You come back coughing up water, contacts shoved up in your eyelids, bruised and banged, no thanks.

The next day, many from the truck were taking the plunge of the Vic Falls bridge, the second highest bungee jump in the world. Katy and I decided a bike ride to Livingston in neighboring Zambia was a better idea We couldn't have been more wrong, jumping off a bridge would have been a much smarter thing to do

We took our rented bicycles across the Vic Falls bridges, stopping at the border post to buy our $10 day-visa. We started the 10km ride down the paved road to Livingston. We only had gone a few kilometers when we saw a nice place to pull over on the shore of the Zambezi river. We were stopped about 5 minutes, I was looking at some white birds in my binoculars when Katy said in a worried tone "there's somebody coming out of the woods."

Before you can say all-ka-zam, both our daypacks were gone. Argh. I had all my camera gear in there. Argh. I had my passport in there. Stupid, always have my passport on my person, never in a pack, never except today. Damn.

We cycled back to the border post police station. Before we'd even written anything down, two police officers ushered us out and back to the road. We hailed down a passing truck (police car, yeah right, this is Africa baby) and caught a ride back to the scene of the crime. We wandered around the maze of paths in the forests looking for clues, but only found a shopping bag of assorted food stuffs.

We started down walking down the road, not really sure where we were headed. We arrived at a taxi stand at the side of the road. There happened to be a taxi there, he already had one customer, but somehow Katy, myself, two police officers, the passenger and driver, we all managed to fit in the little 4-door sedan. We drove our 2-wheel drive taxi down a 4x4 road into a nearby village looking for more clues. On the plus side, this was a real village off the beaten track, no tourists here. Normally might be a bit scary, but we had a police escort, and I had about $10 and the clothes on my back, bring it on!

In the village a group of adults saw us driving through and rushed to the car in an excited manner. They had a spirited exchange with the police officers in their native tongue. The officers sounded positive, they had found out information of some sort. We drove to Livingston, dropped off our passenger and then headed back to the border post. We thought having just been robbed would be enough to get out of a taxi fare, but no such luck. He wanted some exorbitant amount for the ride, maybe we had that much, but we weren't letting on. We gave him a fraction of his demanded fare, getting robbed once in a day is bad enough.

It took several hours to get the paper work done at the police post. Both Katy and I had insurance to cover the loss of possessions, but it took awhile to itemize everything and get the officers to write out a police report by hand. I still have the folded and tattered piece of paper, with a liberal amount of official stamps, it was my ticket back across the border. We returned our bikes, were they promptly demanded the full-day rate since we were 30 minutes late. They didn't seem to believe our robbery story, at least not until I pulled out my magic paper. In Africa, a paper with official looking stamps is the key to almost anything.

We returned to our campsite on the Zimbabwe side of the river. People were milling around the truck, "how was your bike trip?" Katy and I didn't answer, making a b-line for the truck frig, popping open a couple cold ones. Yep, definitely should have jumped off that bridge...

]]> Trip reports, African safari http://keithv.com/blog/index.php?entry=entry980807-120000 Keith Vertanen Thu, 06 Aug 1998 23:00:00 GMT http://keithv.com/blog/comments.php?y=98&m=08&entry=entry980807-120000 http://keithv.com/blog/index.php?entry=entry980801-120000
Late afternoon shadows on a government building in Windhoek.

We spent two nights and a day in Windhoek. What to say, it is a city like most cities. Neil, Sara, Katy and I went on an uninspiring short hike on a hill on the outskirts of the city. We went to the national art gallery and saw a collection "typically" African black and white works by John Muafangejo. We also saw a good exhibit on the Namibian independence movement at the state museum.


Meercat striking a pose at a campsite in Nimibia.

From Windhoek, we headed east towards our next destination the Okavango delta in Botswana. It was quite a long distance, so we spent a night "bush" camping next to the road. I had organized a game of water assassin so I spent a paranoid night alone in my bivy sack waiting for my watery death. I was killed the next day when I least expected it, Neil the sly bastard shot me while offering me an orange. The game was over within 24 hours, Katherine was the last person standing.


Neil in a sleeping shelter at one of the camps.

As we traveled further and further north, the temperature increased noticeably. Down south we had on our winter hats and jackets, but by now shorts and a tee-shirt were the order of the day. We arrived at our campsite near the delta on another hot winter day, screw being here in the summer! The camp had a pool, but it was a sort of thick opaque green, only a few crazy ozzies risked a swim. We settled for some water shenanigans with our truck's supply of super-soakers.


Guides poling as along the river.

In the morning, we headed off for three days of canoeing in the Okavango delta. After an hour-long bouncy ride down a 4x4 sand track, we arrived at the river. Our boats and guides were waiting. We traveled in murangus, canoes carved by hand out of the sausage tree. It is said that it takes two people about a month to carve one of these boats. We sat two in each murangu, each boat had a native guide standing in the back of the boat. They propel us by pushing off the bank or the bottom of the river with long sticks. Neil and I had a good steed, our boat was riding high in the water. Others weren't as lucky, some of the boats had sides that were just barely above the waterline, lean too much in either direction and you were taking on water.


We're sharing the water with Africa's most dangerous animal, the hippo.

One settled in the boat, we had nothing left to do but relax in the sun and enjoy the scenery as it floated by. The river was very narrow, often reeds would brush over us as we took the meandering corners. From our low seats in the boat, we relied on the guides to point out any wildlife. We saw a number of species of birds and also some elephants. The elephants were drinking and bathing in the river about 100 yards ahead of us. The guides had to clap and bang on the boats to make them run off before we could proceed upstream.


Sunsetting on our game walk.

After a swimming stop and a lunch stop, we arrived in the afternoon at our campsite. It really felt like we were out in the wilderness, no buildings and no noise. The illusion lasted until we saw a land rover full of hunters drove by on the other side of the river, guess we weren't that remote after all.


Our boats parked at the camping site, elephants drinking in the background.

From our campsite, we could watch elephants coming to the river to drink. This was no game drive in the truck, we were actually right there among the wild things. The guides led us on an hour game walk, pointing out more elephants hidden in the trees. We also saw some vervet monkeys and a few types of antelope.


Skull of a water buffalo, as close as I ever came to seeing one.

It had been a long day and we turned in early. I found a nice moonlit patch on the outside of camp to sleep. I didn't think much about being the furthest person away from the fire. At least not until 4am when I awoke to the sounds of a lion roaring out in the woods. Hmmmm, Keith could become a big blue goretex burrito for some hungry animal. Not really very smart at all.


Marching single file through the Okavango grasslands.

We were off earlier in the morning for a five-hour game walk. It was a bit of a forced march, there was a guide in front, a guide in back, you had to just keep walking all the time. We saw some new varieties of antelope: red lecheee, reedbuck, tssesbe, and impala. We also saw elephants, but only from a distance, the guides always steered a course a long way from the elephants. The highlight of the game walk was a watering hole that had about five hippos swimming in it. When we went in closer to the water, a crocodile swam off from the shoreline. I tried for awhile to get the perfect shot of a yawning hippo, but I missed the few chances I had at it.


Heading off on a sunset cruise.

By now it was getting towards noon, the sun was high and it was time to get back to camp. We spent the middle of the day lazing in the sun and in the shallow waters of the river. In the evening, it was time for a sunset cruise. Our guides poled us up the narrow channel, the late day light gave the reeds a beautiful deep golden hue. On the way back, we pulled the boats together and watched yet another African sunset. We shared a bottle of Swartland Chardonnay between us, I think it was ever better warm.


Our guides hanging out at the back of the boats.

That night we traded stories around the campfire with our guide Caltex (named after a gas station he hung around as a child). His stories were a little hard to understand, one had something to do about ogres and egg eating crocodiles. When it was our turn to tell a tale, it was surprisingly hard to think of a story. Caltex could probably tell stories in his native tongue for hours on end. They have a rich oral tradition, we have a rich TV culture, we don't often tell stories anymore.


Sunset over the delta.

The next morning we packed up and poled back out of the delta. It was sad to leave, it is the kind of place you could spend weeks. We arrived back to the world; the US embassies in Nairobi and Dar es Salaam had been bombed, at present count over 150 dead. Welcome back. I should call home, but the power is out and so are the phones, Africa.

]]> Trip reports, African safari http://keithv.com/blog/index.php?entry=entry980801-120000 Keith Vertanen Fri, 31 Jul 1998 23:00:00 GMT http://keithv.com/blog/comments.php?y=98&m=08&entry=entry980801-120000 http://keithv.com/blog/index.php?entry=entry980728-120000

A wildebeest checking out our truck.

The landscape is just like you see in the discovery channel specials, wide open expanses of grasslands. It is the dry season, so the vegetation is quite sparse, making it easy to spot the animals. There sure must be a lot of grass in the wet season to support the number of big mammals we saw.


An onyx.

In short order, we had seen some of the more common animals: zebras, giraffes, onyxes, jackals, and springboks. It was great fun, Neil and I were heavily armed optically. I had the equivalent of a 400mm lens and Neil was out to 300mm. We would drive around, scanning the landscape in all directions, ready to buzz the driver when we saw anything good and wanted to stop. After a time, you learned how to differentiate the different animals at long distance from a bumpy


Two Kudus, my favorite antelope because of their curly horns.

The park is like a reverse zoo, after sundown, all the humans have to return to their fenced in campsite "cage". The campsites all have a lighted watering hole on their perimeters. It seems a bit contrived, sitting on park benches watching animals under the incandescent glow of streetlights, but it is better than a zoo. The animals come and go as they please, there is no schedule and there are certainly no guarantees about what you'll see.


A springbok, or less affectionately JAFS.

The jackals kept on the springbok for about a half-an-hour. Then very suddenly, we heard a muffled roar and saw a shadow flash near the springbok. It was over before it started. In place of the springbok was now a snacking juvenile lion. Awesome! Not many people get to see the drama of a lion kill unfold from start to finish. We camped out on the park benches that night, but we had no hope of topping what we'd already witnessed. It was still a memorable night, waking up periodically on the uncomfortable bench, opening your eyes to the sight of elephants, giraffe and rhino drinking. Not your typical nights sleep, magical. In the morning, we got a good look at the lion as it crossed the watering hole on its way out. The annoyed jackals could finally get to "their" springbok. There is no fair play here, the weak die, the strong kill, the others wait for scraps.


Two warthogs zipping around the land.

We packed up camp and took a game drive across the park. We stopped at another campsite for lunch, spending our free time at the watering hole in the baking sun. Almost nothing was about, too hot that time of day. We did get to see a warthog come zipping in for a drink. There was a zebra also drinking, both were skittish, neither could figure out who was suppose to be scared of who. The watering hole at our new campsite was a bit disappointing. Almost nothing showed up during the hours after sundown. I was the only die-hard to spend the night out at the hole. It was as comfortable spot to sleep as any, so I figured what the heck. I was treated to absolutely nothing, not even any JAFS (just another fricking springbok).


Lioness with an onyx looking on with interest.

On our last day in the park, we took a long game drive out of the park. We spotted several lions lounging out in the grass. It was great to see them in the daylight, hopefully the photos of them will turn out. We also saw a few warthogs waddling about. It was a good ending to a great three day safari.


Sunset at the watering hole.

]]> Trip reports, African safari http://keithv.com/blog/index.php?entry=entry980728-120000 Keith Vertanen Mon, 27 Jul 1998 23:00:00 GMT http://keithv.com/blog/comments.php?y=98&m=07&entry=entry980728-120000 http://keithv.com/blog/index.php?entry=entry980722-120000
Neil and his first fish.

Our first adventure activity in Swakamund was "deep-sea" fishing. About 8 of us went out in two small speedboats. Not exactly the size of boat you picture for deep-sea fishing, but it got us out there. The fishing was pretty brain-dead easy, stick a bit of fish chum on a hook, drop it down to the bottom, wait for the fish to hit. It wasn't long before we were filling up the boat with cob. Neil even caught his first fish ever (how you get to be 24 without ever catching a fish is beyond me, but I'm from Minnesota, we have to fish, it's the law!).

So after all day on the boat, by time we got ashore, I had to really take a piss. So I wandered towards a secluded part of the rocky jetty. I selected a good stance on a big rock and starting taking care of business. As I'm whizzing, I notice this alarmingly big wave working its way towards the sore. Hmmmm, that is a big wave, damn big. I knew several seconds beforehand that I was going to get soaked, but I was caught with my pants down as it were. I got wet up to my chest, lucky I didn't get swept out to sea I suppose (but what a funny way to go!). I shook it off, oh well, I might as well finish up.

The next day, we had our second adventure activity: sandboarding. The basic idea is to climb to the top of a high sand dune and then zip down it on a snowboard. Being a fairly competent snowboarder on more conventional mediums, I picked it up rather quickly. It was quite slow and you if you carved too hard you submarined the board and got a face'o'sand.


The truck crew on their quad-bikes.

After several hours, we were covered with sand, but it was great fun. We were then whisked away for our last adventure activity: 4 wheeling (quad-biking to the British-impaired). We donned our protective gear, and blasted off into the dunes. To prevent any additional damage to the dunes, there is a set track through the dunes and you have to stay behind the guide. It was fun, but I can't help but think that it would be a nice place to go walking if there weren't so many yohoo's zipping around with 2-stroke engines blaring.


Sunset somewhere in Nimibia.

It took awhile to scrub the sand and grit off our bodies but we managed. Our clothing was in a sad state, so next stop was the laundromat. This was the coolest laundromat ever, it had video games, TVs, pool tables, a casino, a bar, and more. It was also the last time our clothing would get anything but a hand washing for the next month and a half.


Jackal on the prowl for some sea lion cubs.

The next day it was back into the truck, we headed north along the coast. We stopped at the seal colony at Cape Cove. There are thousands and thousands of seals sprawled out on the rocks. They spend their days lazing around, barking and showing their teeth when another seal tries to move in on their favorite sunning rock. Occasionally they head out to the ocean to catch some fish. They also produce a truly horrific oderific emanation (the stench can only be described as roughly comparable to an evening at Vertanen deer camp). We also saw a few jackals slinking around the outskirts of the seal colony. They were waiting for an opportunity to munch on a young seal cub.


That there is a heck of a lot of seals.


Now that looks like one happy seal!

Later that day, we stopped at a site home to a collection of native rock paintings. All the typical game animals were depicted, as well as a few of the big cats, and a few of humans. It was really self-explanatory, but we had this guide who kept insisting in a loud voice. "I am a teacher! Ask me questions!" We tried a few questions, but never learned more than was obvious. The drawings that looked like giraffes, they depicted giraffes. Oh really.

]]> Trip reports, African safari http://keithv.com/blog/index.php?entry=entry980722-120000 Keith Vertanen Tue, 21 Jul 1998 23:00:00 GMT http://keithv.com/blog/comments.php?y=98&m=07&entry=entry980722-120000 http://keithv.com/blog/index.php?entry=entry980715-120000

The road got a little exciting for a bit, check out that curve!

My last update was from Fish River canyon in Namibia. After the canyon, we drove north and east towards the coast. We drove on a nice paved road through the vast barren landscape. The land on both sides of the road was diamond mining land, trespassers shot on sight. We camped on a Shark island, a rock island on the coast. I found nice rock to sit on, sipped a beer, and watched the sun set over the ocean. Home was about a zillion miles that-a-way.


Going, going, gone.

After finishing a typical breakfast of cereal and toast, I was feeling quite energetic. Too much sitting on a big yellow truck I guess. So since we were on a rock island, I figured there must be a boulder problem to work on somewhere. Turned out to be a nice over-hanging problem right in front of the truck. It took about half-an-hour and I scratched my hands to hell, but I sorted out the sequence; step, step, reach, grab, swing, heel hook, mantel, awwww made it! I was allowed to revel for about two seconds, then a sea gull shat in my hair.


German church in the town.

We drove just outside of town to Kollmunshap, an abandoned diamond mining town. The town sprung up during a big diamond rush. At its height, you could walk into the pub and pay for your drink with raw diamonds. It was said you could go out at night and collect diamonds by picking up anything that shimmered in the moonlight.


Peering through a hole in the wall.

The town as been reclaimed by nature. Sand dunes have replaced the streets, sand invades through the broken windows, covering the floors with their wind swept ripples. The place was excellent Windows on the World material, I wandered through building after building, looking for the ultimate photo.


A whole lot of barren land, vast.

We had a free morning before we had to hit the road. Neil, Sara and I headed out into the dry landscape, following the white painted footprints that denoted the "trail". We reached the top of a ridge, from here we could see for miles, a huge plain stretched out between the mountain ranges. A thorough binocular check revealed no big game roaming about unfortunately.


A castle in the middle of the desert, very strange.

We drove north in the afternoon, stopping for the night at a campsite at Duswig castle. Some german has settled here and had shipped in materials to build a little castle. Completely random, a castle in the middle of the desert.


Cracked mud lake bed. Neil spotted this shot, the heat was effecting my photo-savy.

At the end of the road was a big dried lake and a tall sand dune. The dune had a long sharp knife edge leading up it. We climbed up, taking turns dropping back to take photos of each other walking up the ridge. We reached the top, not much time to admire the view, we had to get back to the truck so we could exit the park before the gate closed at dark. We could have walked back down the ridge, but we couldn't pass up the opportunity to run down the steep portion of the sand dune. Wow, we flew down, eating up the distance in gigantic leaps. It was a long, tedious hike back to the truck on the sand road. We drove back towards camp, stopping at another famous sand dune to take in the sunset. We climbed up part of the dune, the wind was whipping, sand blasting our faces.


Neil and Sara heading up the big dune.

I was bushed by time we got back to camp. Unfortunately, I was on cook duty. If I could have ordered in pizza, I would have. As it was, I had to prepare wiener schnitzel for 13 people. I was pounding meat with my beer bottle until I thought my arm would fall off. After the main course, it was time for fried apples and caramel. I managed to make it through the ordeal, I only cut myself once, and resisted the temptation to stab anyone else.


A bird, an onyx, and a really big pile of sand.

If you don't like sand and dust, you would not have enjoyed camping that night. A wind storm blew up, filling the air with blowing sand. I hadn't put the poles in my bivy sack, so the best I could do was draw the bag around my face. I would wake up periodically and sort of spit out the sand I had eaten. We even had a few very loud claps of thunder during the night, a thunderstorm in the desert, neat!


A rocky hill at dusk.

]]> Trip reports, African safari http://keithv.com/blog/index.php?entry=entry980715-120000 Keith Vertanen Tue, 14 Jul 1998 23:00:00 GMT http://keithv.com/blog/comments.php?y=98&m=07&entry=entry980715-120000 http://keithv.com/blog/index.php?entry=entry980708-120000

Katy, Sophie, Karen, Neil and Sara. Hanging out in the back of our truck.


The truck is a big customized Layland rig weighing in at around 17 tons (we have a spare engine, gearbox, axle, 4 spare tires, 500 liters of water, 4 batteries, canned goods to feed an army, and more). It has bench seating from 28 people in back. We can roll up the plastic tarp sides for open air travel. We have a small frig, stereo system, lots of storage space, cooking and camping stuff.

We met our driver Richard and our courier Tina at the hostel in Cape Town. Richard is an Australian, Tina is English. There are 8 other passengers besides Sara, Neil and myself. All are English, bloody hell! The number is quite small which gives us plenty of space in the truck, the last trip they had 29 passengers in the same space. After a run down on the truck, we grabbed a final chicken lunch at Nando's and headed out.

Riding in the truck in the city is an experience. It really is huge, I'm amazed we negotiated some of the corners that we did. Our one level of seating is above of the truck cab, you can feel high up driving in a sports utility vehicle, but this truck takes it to new levels. Everybody is below us, and we've got the coolest, badest truck around.


The Cape of Good Hope.


Our first day took us along the coast south of Cape Town to a hostel in Simon's Town. In route we visited the Cape of Good Hope were a rain squall blew in and got everybody soaking wet. The hostel is right on the water front, a herd of jackass penguins (called this because they bark like jarkasses) lived right nearby. In fact, the penguins like to get into the backyard of the hostel. To do this, they knock on the door and wait for somebody to open up. Then then waddle through the house and our the other door.


Little penguins waddling around on the rocks by the hostel.


We spent our last night in a bed, from now on we would be camping. Our first day of many in the truck... We stopped along the way to do at little wine tasting at two different spots. As a bottle of wine was only around 12 rand (less than $2), we took the opportunity to acquire a suitable collection of whites and reds to complement any camp meal. In hindsight, I'd wish we bought more. Only two weeks later and our wine stores are dangerously low!


Good morning sun burst on the south coast of Africa.


Our first campsite was called Baths. It is located at some thermal springs, oh baby! The hot water is piped into a big warm swimming pool and can also be used to fill up a number of small Jacuzzi baths. A good soak before dinner, a better soak after dinner, and a nice refreshing soak before breakfast. Man, isn't camping rough?!?


Buzz buzz, stop the truck, photo op!


From there, we continued our journey north, heading toward the border of Nimibia. Almost the whole day was spent bouncing along in our truck. Unfortunately, we top out at around 100 km/hour, not exactly the fastest thing on the roads. Our next campsite was more rustic, lacking Jacuzzis but still having a hot shower. As I wasn't on the cooking or cooking help team for the evening meal (all our meals are a group activity), I headed out to climb a little rock mountain near the caravan park. Felt good to shake out the legs after a day in the truck.


A nice little pre-dinner hike to be sure.


Our evening was spent playing a tongue twister game, a few Ojibawe games I've learned (3 pine cones plus 6 pine cones, minus 2 pine cones. how many?), and listening to folk songs sung by this strange old English fellow that turned up. He sung beautiful old tunes about climbing in Britain and even wrote a song for one of the girl's on our truck.


A tree I spied on my little hike.


As we've moved north, the landscape changed form the lush green of the South African coast, to the arid landscape of Namibia. We spent a long time clearing the various gymnastics at the border, passport checks, drug sniffing dog, pseudo-search of the truck. It was now getting warmer, the shorts and t-shirts were out, the side of the truck was up. Roaring down a dirt road, head out the window, mountains in the background, I'm in Africa baby!


A nice juxtaposition, walls made of sticks, but a flush toilet.


We camped at Ai Ais, at the end of Fish River Canyon, the grand canyon of Africa. No time for hiking the first night, I had to settle for a trip to their indoor thermally heated spas. Oh life is rough, my green pants are starting to get bleached from so many hot tub sessions. After a delicious stir fry dinner prepared by Neil and Sara, we sat around the camp fire and relaxed with a beer or two.


Neil, Sara and a German lady, hiking in Fish River.


The following day was a non-travel day, we had all day to hike around the canyon. With bag lunched in our day packs, Neil, Sara and I headed up the canyon for the day. The rest of the group aren't the keen hikers that we are. We walked up the dry river bed for about three hours, meeting a older German lady who joined our walk. She pointed out some of the plants and animals to us. We say some Cliff Springers (small deer-like), a goliath herring, some nile geese, and best of all- a large pack of baboons. The ran above on the canyon cliffs, swinging along the steep grade with wild abandon. The baby baboons would ride on top of the adults and a guard baboon sent loud barks echoing down the canyon. Wow.


Sand dune in the canyon.

A new moon, clear night, in the desert of Africa. Holy stars!


We returned to camp after our long day of walking, took a dip in the thermal spas, and then joined the rest of the group. Turns out they hiked just a bit up the canyon, they saw baboons as well. We felt a bit slighted as we thought our baboon story would top anything they saw lazing around near the resort.


Kinda looks like the Grand Canyon huh? But you can hike to the floor in a half-hour.

We drove just a few hours the next day, going to the other end of the canyon. This end was much deeper, not even close to as deep as the grand canyon, but pretty deep. We hiked down to the river floor in about an hour, on a steep, rocky trail. The whole group, sans our driver and courier, made it down. I hung around the canyon floor until everyone had a good head start back up. I brought up the rear, reaching the top just in time for a cold beer and a nice sunset.


A red-eyed black bird, on the floor of Fish River Canyon.


Well that is all I have time for now, I'll continue the story at my next email opportunity (which may be back in the states, who knows). Take care.

]]> Trip reports, African safari http://keithv.com/blog/index.php?entry=entry980708-120000 Keith Vertanen Tue, 07 Jul 1998 23:00:00 GMT http://keithv.com/blog/comments.php?y=98&m=07&entry=entry980708-120000