25 July, Day 42: to the land of the Maasai

We’re off just before 9 to draw some money for the Mara. It’s $60 per person to enter, per day, plus we’ll need to pay for camping and whatever. The guys reckon we’ll spend at least 3 days in there, so I prepare for that. The idea today is to drive to a camp just outside the Talek gate (named after the Talek river that flows nearby). There are a great many camps inside and around the Mara (25 at least) but we have good info from Fanie’s other cousin, Vallerie who worked in the Mara for a few years. She reckons that he best camps are on the Talek gate side. As it happens too, yesterday while at the Nakumatt (big BIG shopping centre here) they were chatting in Afrikaans about the next few days and what kind of supplies they should be buying when a stranger happened to overhear them. She too was Afrikaans (and STARVED for the moeder-taal) and she JUST HAPPENS to have come from the Mara a few weeks ago. She insists on helping Fanie out and jumps on her cell phone to get another ladies number, who in turn has a number for a very excellent guide, Amos. She reckons that Amos knows the park like only a Maasai can and he was excellent in guiding them.

And again, as fate and luck and all that works out, Amos is based in the Riverside Camp, next to the Talek gate, one of the camps we were going to anyway! Amazing, huh? :) Afrikaaners is plesierig.

Armed with all this knowledge and high hopes we dash off, the same road we’ve travelled before, passing through Smelly town (it really is smelly) and over that treacherous mountain pass where we bought the sheepskin and bark hats, little shops perched over the edge overlooking the rift (I think one may have even fallen off the ledge), pass the little Italian Church until we reach a crossing where we turn left, instead of keeping straight on. Fanie gets pulled over again, this time the cop reckons he was going 95. Fanie asks that he prove it, show him the speed gun. The cop reckons no, the speed gun is 1km down the road. Fanie counters that he’s still within the speed limit anyway, which is 100 (for private vehicles). The cop reckons this is a commercial vehicle (here we go again) and walks behind the bakkie. Good thing we didn’t stick those “80” stickers on the back, which is what commercial vehicles have to do. The cop can’t do anything but ask to see a license, the triangle and once these are prod cud to let Fanie go. Heh heh, score one more for the good guys!

More shitty, dusty, old and newly built roads. More roadworks, more hard driving. Unfortunately we end up at the wrong gate, so we need to travel around the park a bit to get the Talek gate. On this tour we see many, many many Maasai herds, all bone skinny and just sitting there. The entire veld has been totally over grazed and these poor animals are starving.

Another sexy little anecdote: most of the cattle have scars from long cuts on their sides. This is because the Maasai perdiodiaclly cuts them to drink their blood. I suppose this is for nutritional value, or something.

Just after 14:00 or so we arrive at Riverside, with Aruba camp to the left. We’re greeted by the Maasai manager and organise us a campsite. 400 KSh pp/night, free firewood, crappy facilities (hot showers, but long drop toilets). At least there are trees for shade (it’s very hot!). We setup our tent, our chairs are sopping wet from the rain last night. We leave the canopy windows open a little bit for the fridge in the back, but I forgot to close it yesterday. The chairs have to dry out a bit, no problem in this heat.

The gang asked the manager to track down Amos for us and the tall Maasai arrives shortly after, all dressed in red with beads and jewellery. Fanie asks him if he knows so and so and he replies with the name of the man and the woman he is referring to. Test passed. They ask him about the state of the animals and the migration, he reckons that nothing is for certain but there are quite a few animals congregated around the plains at the moment. We arrange for an early start tomorrow, 06:00. While we were at the hospital yesterday the guys organised a fly over in a 6 seater airplane over the Mara. So they phone the pilot to ask what the deal is, but he is unavailable for tomorrow (Sunday) since he’s chartered to fly to Tanzania tonight. Earliest is Monday at 10:00. The big discussion before we commit to anything is: how long do we intend to stay here?? For Mattie, the migration is a very important thing to witness, but you never know when it’s going to be. Back and forth, back and forth, we chip in our 2 cents and it’s simple: we really, really want to go the Zanzibar. As it is, we only have 4 days there, so we don’t want to cut into that at all. Eventually there is an agreement to see what happens tomorrow and if we don’t see any action we do a fly over and hopefully get to see something. Worst comes to worse, we don’t stay longer than 3 days. There are hot air balloon rides in the Mara as well, but at $350 pp they don’t seem worth it. d

It was my turn to braai, lots of steaks while Annelie organised the braai broodtjies. Our steak must have come from one of those mangy Maasai cows, because it was rubber. We offer the rest to the camp reception, since it was very much inedible.

Sleep early tonight, we gotta move early tomorrow. I’m hoping for a quick win here so we can hustle to Dar Es Salaam. I think I’ve seen enough of national parks and animals by now.

[G & A], out.

Danger: wide load!

Updated pics!

Aye, it’s true! Finally sat down and filtered through the terabytes of pictures. Some of them are even tagged! How cool is that?

 

I’ve changed the format somewhat, so each day now has its own album. So if you click on the “Pictures” link on the blog, it should work a bit better. It’s become a pig to upload it to one big album, and I’m sure folks with slower (in other words, South African ADSL and dail ups) might appreciate it :)

 

And if you’re too lazy to even do THAT (you lazy, lazy bum), here’s the link

 

Cool cool. I’m still a bit behind with the journal, but I thought I’d focus on the pics instead. Got some SUPER cute pics to post still, watch this space.

 

Till later,  G

 

 

 

24 July, Day 41: Visit to the Orphanage

Sleep in a little bit, only a little though. Pat’s little jack Russels have a habit of filling in for the local rooster. Today we’re going to pay a visit to the local orphanage. We wanted to do so the last time we were here but we had a time constraint.

So we wake up, get dresses have some food and so on. The visiting times are STRICLTY 11:00 – 12:00 so by 10:00 we’re on our way. A little bit of traffic but eventually we enter a gate manned by armed personnel (very friendly, armed personnel. I have to say the sight of assault rifles doesn’t unnerve me as much anymore) and we continue on and slightly up to the main reception. When we arrive there are quite a few other people already, queuing up to enter. A whole school bus of kids I guess to be around 5-6 years old arrive, teachers herding them into little lines. Lots of badly dressed Americans around too. Everybody gathers round the entrance, which is a pathway between some buildings to who knows where. The only thing between us and entry is one little piece of rope (not even the velvet variety, just plain old nylon). Two little warthogs approach to investigate the commotion before dismissing us as wholly irrelevant. The sun is out in full force again, good thing we put on sunscreen

At 10:50 a gentlemen removes the rope and everybody stampedes like wildebeest down the path. After paying our 300 KSH per person (which goes towards helping to care for the little ones) we head between more buildings (curio shop etc) overhung by trees till we reach a large open area, wing fenced with more rope and a bench here and there. There are big pacifiers attached to (what I guestimate) to be 3 litre bottles placed around the area, buckets of water and a horse shoe shaped mud pit in the middle.. A few gentlemen in green overcoats stand in the middle and wait while the everyone gathers round and the teachers herd the kids into orderly ranks off to the left.

Not long after we all settle down the orphans are brought in, about 9 of them. Off in the distance up the hill they come charging down, breaking ranks from the neat little line while more men in green overcoats run after them. They charge straight for the water buckets and men holding the pacifiers, little trunks curling up in delight, over sized ears flapping and gurgling sounds coming from their mouths.

These are the youngest of the orphaned elephants that the Shedrick Wildlife trust looks after, nurtures and will eventually attempt to re-habilitate back into the wild. Off to the right, two of the little guys are aiming for the same teat of SMF formula and making a huge racket. The green overcoat must retreat while another brings more milk bottles. Eventually they see the wisdom of waiting your turn and each is rewarded with a teat of its own. While this is going on, the others have drenched themselves in water from the buckets and are playing, falling over, wrestling and playing in the horse show shaped mud pit. A guide on each side explains what we are looking at (duh! Lots of baby elephants running amok!). This group consists of little ones from about 3 months to a year. He then tells us of each and every one of them. They’re named according to where they were discovered or after the ranger that found them. Most are here because their parents were killed during conflict of poaching. A few rare cases rejected their babies for whatever reason (lots of splashing and dirt flying around behind his back. Lots of attention seeking and little trunks touching and feeling. Lots of “aaaaws”, “ooohs” and laughter, mostly from Annelie)

I wish I’d paid more attention to each story, but Annelie did video the whole thing while I was around snapping pictures.

It’s quite cute, because their way out of proportion! Ears are way too big, legs too scrawny and they have very little balance. They especially have trouble exiting the mud pit and do so on their knees. Not very successful, they usually just slide back in, try again, slide back in, another one climbs on top of it, they both slide in, they both just lay down instead. And so forth. Very entertaining. The guides take shovels and cover them in water and mud while they splash around.

After the presentation they’re all herded back up the hill. More pacifiers are placed around the encampment, but this time they place two at each location. The second, more mature group enters, lead by a big looking matriarch. To see them storm down the hill like the last batch is a little concerning and I think the guides had to scramble to stop them running. I do remember the big mamma’s name, Kenya. She is the leader and oldest of this group, 3 years. She was found near Mount Kenya, hence her name. The guide runs through all the elephants, their names and why they’re here. Again, I’ll have to defer to the video, or check out their website. I think they do fantastic work here!

This group (another 8 or 9 of them) consists of elephants aged between 1 year and 3. They will generally spend 3 years at the trust before passing on to another project for re-introduction to the wild. This could be tricky, since the wild elephants won’t just accept them and they could end up very lonely or very dead elephants instead. One of the elephant stories I do remember was of the tail less little fella. While scouting the park around Tarangire rangers heard urgent little calls coming from around a hill. When they arrived this 1 year old little bull elephant was fighting off 4 very mangy looking hyenas trying to get to the carcass of its mother, who was killed by poachers. Of course, this little guy didn’t know or didn’t give a damn, they weren’t coming near her! At the sight of the rangers, the hyenas wisely retreated. After attending to its wounds the rangers gathered him up and moved him to safety. The hyenas did get his tail though and he was now left with a little stump. I hope the other elephants don’t make too much fun of him. Kids can be mean.

I’m a rubbish story teller, because I can’t even remember the elephants name! Oh well.

Other anecdotes that I found interesting is how lonely and heartbroken these little guys get. They need the same kind of love and attention that humans do, including lots of physical touch. Some of the guides even sleep next to them, especially the new arrivals or very young ones. It’s been known that they go into depression and die from loneliness or heartache and many never reach an age where they can be re-introduced to the wild. Shame.

This group is led off up the hill again, and for the last 10 minutes they enter a very special little guest: a 3 month old black rhino named Malam (after the ranger who found him. I remembered!). Malam was discovered when he was only 2 or 3 days old. Long story short, but there was a project to relocate some black rhinos from one national park to another. The rangers went in to tranquilise all the animals and get them all packed up. As a rule they don’t tranq pregnant animals, but someone didn’t do their homework. The result is that the mother aborted this little guy while attempting to flee.

Though Malam was young, and (apparently) could fit into your pocket, he weighed a whopping 20 KGs!

They bring in and proceed to lather him with mud, using a shovel. He crashes onto his side and waits until he is almost covered, then JUMPS UP and spins around (mud flying everywhere) before falling back down onto his other side for another layer. And so it goes, it’s clearly the life to be a baby black rhino. More oohs and aahs (mostly from Annelie).

And that’s the show. We make our way back to the gate, pass the curio shop where you can help support the trust and there is a big board with all the elephants names and short back story. You can also adopt an elephant or rhino, for $50 per year. The rangers and guides will send you a monthly log of their progress, with pics and videos (all –professionally edited). Very smart, again, I think they’re doing phenomenal work.

What I didn’t mention earlier (as to not spoil the surprise) is that by the main reception there are these huge wooden cages. In one of them is the biggest rhino I’ve ever seen. In fact, the first and biggest rhino I’ve ever seen, in real life. Shida (shee-da) is a 6 year old black rhino who has successfully been rehabilitated back into the wild. Only thing is... he keeps coming back. The guide told us earlier that he has a habit of coming and going as he pleases and he just arrived back this morning. He’s in his pen for our protection, but when we leave they open it up and lead him back out (not sure how you coax what must be a 1 ton black rhino to do ANYTHING). At first, he looks very angry to see you, skulking in the back of the pen. But after a while he stirs and shuffles closer to the iron gate where he proceeds to stick his 1m long horn through the bars (I think that’s how he says hello. Trouble is, you gotta watch where your junk is at that point...). I gather up the guts to reach out and touch his flank. My word. I’ve never felt anything like it before. Tough, thick, impenetrable , what can only be described as armour. It’s the toughest leather I can imagine and I can’t imagine he feels anything through it. He shuffles around the pen and I notice that he rubs his ears hard against the bars. So I reach out and give him a mighty big scratch on the only spot that seems sensitive to touch: behind his ears. His eyes just go dim, dim, and close. He’s LOOOOOVING it! Annelie joins in and we treat the big guy to some attention. He then moves on, back to the back of the pen as more people arrive and then shuffles back and forth, then back to the gate and sticks that big horn through the railings. More ear scratching, other people joining in.

Next to Shida is another guest, a 3 year old Black rhino, blind from birth. Didn’t see him at all, I suppose he kind of keeps to himself. While all the rhino loving was going on, 3 warthogs (2 of which we saw earlier) are around and feeding on little grassy mounds around the area. One scares 3 shades of shit out of Annelie as it squeals and storms off! One of the guides behind us says “don’t go near that one. He has no friends”. Hehehehehe, funny.

Take a few more pics and video of this fantastic creature and head to the car. On the way we head into Karen hospital (and heart unit!). Annelie wants to find out about some tests that we can do to see if Walter has left the building. She is finishing her last round of Flagyl today, but we want to check what we can do before we leave for the Mara. Very, very nice facility, the Karen hospital will put private hospitals in Cape Town to shame!

They advise that she come back in 2 days to provide some samples. They can then give her the results and we’ll take it from there. Cool.

Back to Pat’s, more chilling. Starts to rain and pretty much carries on for the entire night. Everyone is lounging around and chatting, I’m keeping to myself and updating more pics and so forth.

Anecdote: http://www.sheldrickwildlifetrust.org/ . They have the back stories and so forth on there.

Tomorrow, we leave for the Maasai Mara (NOT "masai" like I've spelt it before) in a hope to spot the animals migrating back to the Serengeti. As I said before, this is very much like predicting the rain, only less accurate. You can spend weeks there and not see anything.

Fingers crossed.

Before we go to bed I bake us some chocolate fudge for the road:

500g icing sugar, 80 g cacao, 250g butter, 1 egg (beaten, like a red headed step child) and 2 packs of Marie bisquits. Sift everything together, melt butter and add, through in egg, mix and nuke for 3 minutes. Mix thoroughly, add break up bisquits and gentle mix it. DONE! DELICIOUS!

Highlights: Duh! But I’ll say getting to scratch a fully grown black rhino behind the ears

is way up there on my cool-list

[G & A], out.

I know this much is true

23 July, Day 40: Going over to Pat's

On our way early, head out to pay for lodgings ($10 per night, per person). Lots of coffee plantations along the way, and more climbs up mountain passes. Today, however, the Bullet has NO problem running up this hill! So lessons learned, after these long dusty roads, take a time out to clean the filter again.

Stop over at Thompsons waterfall. They want me to pay for the priviellage of looking at it and taking pictures. I blow them off. Nothing will come close to Murchison at this point. Phifft. Order a plate of chips and 2 glasses of piping hot milk. Annelie and I mix in some Milo into the milk, NICE!

Off at 12:30, drive through Ol’kalau (where Fanie grew up), head into Gill Gill at around 13:20 (there is a big army garrison here. And aparantly this is like the De Aar of Kenya, were troops gather for deployment).

By 14:45 we drive into “Smelly Town”. Which is.. well... smelly. And rundown. Arrive in Karen just after 15:00. Before we head back to Pat’s place, we go to the shops, have ice cream, draw money, refuel and re-shop. We also need to look into what we’ll need for the 3 or so days in the Masai Mara.

I bake us another 1.4 kg beer bread... which comes out raw (only baked it for an hour, in a gas stove), nuked it for 30 minutes, slapped in back into the oven for 15 and tada! Brilliant bread! We put cubes of cheese into this one, but not hardly enough. Still... DELICIOUS!

We’ll be staying here for 2 days, so more r&r and more DVD burning, journal updatin’ and pic uploading. (I hope you kids appreciate my labours!!)

That’s it, over and out.

[G & A], out

What do you do, in the bath?

22 July, Day 39: maintenance day

Annelie is feeling quite good this morning, positive. She has a system now where she takes the Flagyl with a ¼ Xanor for the morning and afternoon sessions, then in the evening she just wings it. It works out ok because then she can function during the day and just spaz out in the evening. We can retreat to the comfort of the tent for some chill out time.

On the cards today is some maintenance and catch up. I have a few terabytes of DVD’s to write to clear up some space, clean out the Bullet a bit, repack our fridge (something emptied its contents in there... again) and perform general checkups. Another thing I wanted to do was clean out the Bullets air filter again. With the first few shakes I empty half a cup of fine, orange-red dust out of it. More shaking and bashing against a wooden peg, still more dust but tough to get out. I have a bright idea to fire up the little air compressor we use for the tires. Works quite well, but it’s a long filter so I can’t stick the business end deep enough into it, at a right angle. Another bright idea: page through the filter like a book! While I do this, Mattie blows air through the compartments. After a riveting read of about 400 pages plus, I am now the owner of a relatively brand new filter! The filthy clogged up filter is no doubt the reason why the Bullet took a hiding up that mountain pass, and why our fuel economy suddenly crashed.

At 12:30 everyone except Mattie and Marietta leave to go have lunch at the Trout Tree restaurant. They have this huge sign just a few km’s down the road. Very nice place! Ok, so obviously it’s a fresh water trout farm, so you enter over some wooden decking and can spy the various spawning pools below. The twist is that the entire restaurant is built into a HUMOUNGAS tree!!

We settle in and get some drinks, and order the whole grilled trout. I take some pics of the surroundings, like I said, it’s all a very big tree house that looks like it’s part of the tree it’s mounted It has two levels and very spacious. The best part is the bar: all natural wood underneath one of the bows of the tree, with little saplings and leaves growing in-between the spirits and wine. A living bar! So cool.

The food was top class, well priced and the service excellent. Lots of framed pictures of various people catching and proudly displaying trout on the walls. By the reception, there are numerous articles from Home and Away and other Getaway mags giving the restaurant rave reviews. I can see why. Pity it’s so quiet in the height of tourist season, but at least there were a few other patrons too.

Back at the camp we put in a order for the hotel sauna, which gives us about an hour and a bit for haircuts! Annelie spends some time trimming my beard (apparently she couldn’t see my face anymore) and I get to cut her hair. Of course, my attempt at cutting a woman’s hair can go either way. For the record, I think it worked out pretty well, even layered it a bit! I think if this IT or photography thing doesn’t work out I’m signing up for hair school.

What I forgot to mention yesterday is that we had a very nice supper at the restaurant here. It was all buffet and the variety was quite good. I had everything, basically, but had 2^nd and 3rds of the Hungarian Stroganoff (delicious!! Not the meat, so much, but the sauce went well with rice). For 17:00 – 18:00 the sauna was all ours. Fantastic man, really top class. We had a little room, 2 showers and the whole sauna just to ourselves and it was a really nice change of pace from the dust, cold showers... or no showers... of the last month and a bit.

Just chill.

Had a relaxing super-hot shower after that and floated back to the camp. Making Pap (porridge) and Wors, with chakalaka tonight. Saved the left over pap for breakfast tomorrow.

Annelie crashing again, so we tuck in early. Quite cold tonight, since we’re at such a high altitude (about 2000m above sea level, if I remember correctly).

Highlights: That awesome sauna!

That awesome trout!

Pap and wors!

[G & A], out

I’ve got another confession to make

21 July, Day 38: road to Dodoma, redux

No hippos or crocs or any sign of life, other than the geese wandering the camp. Woke up at 05:00, then again at intervals. Decided to just stay awake and watch the sunrise. Didn’t get much sleep anyway, the bed was a bucket seat and it was very hot and stifling under the mosquito net. And that noisy fan didn’t help either.

Everyone was awake by about 07:30 anyway and having coffee while enjoying the rich kaleidoscope of the sunrise. Today we are off to Buffalo springs, on the same road that will take you to Somalia. Packing everything up is a breeze, since the dishes and everything is done for us. By 09:00 we’re back on the road. Going well, until we discover that Mattie and Dirk turned LEFT instead of RIGHT into the main road. We spend the next 20 minutes chasing them and trying to catch up. They eventually realise that we’re not there and turn around on their own. With everyone now facing the correct direction we continue on.

We make a quick pit stop and I almost hurt myself. I take a pee-pee against a very smart looking fence that's making this soft tick-tick-ticking sound. Quick evasive action!

Anecdote: never pee-pee against an electric fence.

The rest of the journey starts off quite pleasantly. Then it gradually deteriorates into broken, jagged potholes. The mountain pass clearly had some heavy rain a while back and big rocks are strewn everywhere. Before long, I’ve made up my mind. The only reason why I wouldn’t call this the worst road we’ve travelled is because it’s shorter than that horrid Dodoma route. The high ground does afford us a nice view of the lake below, however. But everyone got rather tense, because it’s hard on the vehicles and the passengers. While I was driving I just caught a movement in my side view mirror and had to make a quick stop . The Cadac gas cylinder was hanging next to the back canopy window, by a relative thread of a elastic strap!

It didn’t get any better once we reached that big road going all the way to Somalia. They’re building the new highway here, but we still have to drive on the gravel. We did get a short reprieve a bit later when we could (at last!) drive on a smooth stretch.

At around 15:20 we arrive at the Buffalo springs national park. Shocking. They won’t even let us in the gate to check the lodge without paying. And for camping you get NOTHING. No facilities at all, not even a toilet. For $60 per person, excluding the vehicles. The so called “park” doesn’t even have a fence around it. The other guys fight with them but they’re adamant. Not worth our while we decide, but we’ve been travelling for a few hours now on very rough road. We make the call to push on, another hour or more to the next town and camp posts. Asphalt quickly turns very dangerous, because there are short stretches that lulls you into complacency before surprising you with very deep potholes that are impossible to miss, not only because of the other traffic and bikes, but because they stretch the entire road surface. The alternative is to risk going off road, but you could easily flip your car like that.

There’s also a heavy military presence in the next town. Annelie and I could feel the tension creep onto us as our group got all sorts of stares from men in camo brandishing heavy weapons. We have to wait at a security check, blocked up with trucks and busses and army personnel forming up into a convoy. Most of the trucks are jammed with everything from people to medical supplies, and troops. The others reckon this is a convoy getting ready to travel to Somalia. The tension was palpable.

We hurry along as best we can, between the potholes. Still very hard going, and we climb another 1000 m in no time flat. The Bullet STRUGGLES up the hills, for some reason losing all its bite. The others carry on and we play catch up. The landscape is very pretty at least, with lots of commercial farming activity. Marieke mentions that the greenhouses we were passing are rose nurseries. I also spot fields of corn. BY 17:00 or so we reach and cross the equator... again. Stop to take pics anyways, but my smile is false. I’m fucking wrecked. This road man, this road... And Annelie is still on the heavy drugs, so lots of tension between us as well. I’m also pissed off since I couldn’t do my typing in the car like I’d usually do (but this is a manufactured gripe. I’m really just battered and bruised from the hard days driving).

A few minutes later we roll into Noromoru, but get lost a bit trying to find the access road to the camp. We eventually locate it and drive the pathway next to the train track to the gates. Very nice lodge and camp site, we opt to camp. They facilities are suffice, they have a little kitchen area with big basins, a fridge and chairs. And as an added bonus all the water here is from an underground spring, so we have an opportunity to refill all the water tanks.

Annelie and I setup quite a far ways from the rest. It’s quite windy and stormy, to match everyone’s mood. But then a magical thing happens. The clouds clear a bit, just enough to reveal Mount Kenya! Everybody seems to forget the hardship of the day. It’s quite rare to actually see these big mountains, ala Mount Kilimanjaro, since their almost always hidden behind cloud cover. I snap a few pics.

We’ll be staying here for 2 days, so it’ll give me some time to look after Annelie and to regroup.

The stars are out tonight. I read back in Arusha that the new moon is on the 22^nd of July so it should be the best time to see the milky way in all its glory. Annelie is already in bed, I stay up after everyone to take a few extra long exposures of the stars. Takes a while, for every say 4 minutes, it takes the camera 4 minutes to produce a pic. Happy with the tests, I setup for a 30 minutes exposure, lay in bed a bit and bring the camera inside the tent once it’s done. I’ll leave it to process and check it out tomorrow.

Highlights: Not electrocuting my vee-vee

Awesome sunrise

[G & A], out

Don’t need a credit card to ride on this train

20 July, Day 37: hippos have right of way

So last night it was decided that given our schedule we won’t stay on here at this camp, but as a compromise for those who did we’d only leave at 10:00. Annelie slept ok, so did I. We’ll see how a quarter Xanor goes today. We hop through the shower, cold shower. Someone left a whole bag of “Outdoor Essentials” in the shower (the overlander left at 07:30 this morning already). Guess we’ll hang on to it :)

After chatting to Raj (did I mention he looks more like a Navaho Indian than, well, an Indian Indian?? Must be the Mohawk). Anyways, Raj. He spoke to his cuzzies down South and they reckon they migration only started last week, so if you really want to catch it in full swing, including some big cat kills and so on you should go there in three weeks. We say we don’t have 3 weeks. He says that’s unfortunate. In an effort to make the best of it, we’ve decided not to head to the Mara today (we were gonna camp just outside the park) we’ll turn the program on its head and head the other way, to Mount Kenya first, then down to Karen again to crash at Pat’s. That buys us about a week or so. Raj recommends two camp sites we can go see on route as well as a most excellent dairy factory in town. Turns out Raj not only owns and runs (and lives ON) this marvellous camp site, but he owns a huge textile factory in town. I recognise the logo from his business card from the signs I’ve seen on the way in. They make blankets etc, called “Ken-Knit”. Overall Raj is overly hospitable and very friendly, and his insight into the Mara helped us out a lot, on spots to see while you’re in the park and so forth.

Off we go just after 10 to go try some cheese! We follow his directions, get lost, try again and find the place: tucked behind a graveyard for old trucks and tankers, next to a carwash and you pretty much need a 4x4 to reach it! But find it we do. And... well... I think they had a power interruption or something. The window where you get to sample the cheeses is right next to this massive generator, that’s running like a bat out of hell, blowing heat and fumes right into you. And it’s LOOOOOUD. So Marieke just goes up to the window, he smiles, writes something on a piece of paper (“cheddar”) and places some cheese on it before handing it to her. She retreats to where we are standing and we all sample some “cheddar”. Dirk rates the cheeses according to his tastes on a separate piece of paper. She then goes back and the smiling gentlemen hands her the next piece of paper (“gouda”) and so it goes. We end up tasting about 7 different cheeses this way before deciding on our order, which we jot down on a piece of paper and hand it back to him (all while this generator is churning away). He then scrambles to make up the order, while handing you another piece of paper which you take to the window on the opposite side for payment. You then take the invoice back to him and he hands you the goods.

It’s all very hilarious! I ordered 2 “choc sticks” which he pointed to and gestured “no”. He tried to ask me something over the noise, I just gave him a thumbs up and decided to leave it at that. Turns out I now ordered a small ice cream tub. He looks at me (there are about 10 other people crowding the window at this stage, and he left a bit earlier to find help. So there’s a bustle of activity both this and the other side of the window), bites his lip and scribbles something on my invoice before handing it to me. I grab it between the other bodies filling the space and study it. I retrieve my decoder ring and finally decipher it as: vanilla, strawberry, pine apple or chocolate. I circle “pine apple” (because I don’t think I’ve had pineapple ice-cream before) an hand it back. He looks at it (after wrapping some cheese, packing some cheese and scribbling some other persons invoice, all at the same time) nods and proceeds with my order.

All in all, we walked away with a few kilo’s of really great tasting cheese and the pineapple ice cream was awesome!!

Back in the cars and away from the madness, dodging people, trucks, bikes etc as we go. Refuel stop is next, Annelie is crashing pretty hard. So lots of love and attention. Shame. On the way I request we stop at a bakery, and my words aren’t even cold when Fanie spots one and pulls over. The friendly lady at the little store sells us a whole bag of scones (about 24 little ones!) for “wholesale” as well as a fresh bread, for a mere 110 KSH (not even a quid). And they were HOT, fresh baked. I devour about 7 (3 “tasters” she brought out, and 4 from my newly acquired stash) before I even get back to the car. That sorts lunch out! I fetch the butter and jam, cheese from the back and Annelie gets busy with prepping more.

The rest of the drive is a stunning one! We climb for many meters, up to about 2500 at one point. The Bullet takes it in its stride. We stop off at “Kerio View” which offers a magnificent vista of the rift valley (I think we’re on the other side of it now, remember, we passed it a few weeks ago when we bought those funky hats?). Very beautiful, a great big scar in the earth, but it’s a bit hazy (Fanie reckons it’s always hazy) so visibility isn’t as good as it can be. About 3 kids around, so we give them each a scone.

Anecdote: we often see black men walking hand in hand. I asked a while back, when we were in Arusha what this means. It’s a sign of friendship, “One Love”, peace and so forth. Given the hectic political turmoil of all the African countries, this is how people show unity. So they’re not gay or anything, it’s just a sign of brotherhood. It still seems weird to me, but hey...

Up and down we go over the mountain pass, stopping at a few viewpoints for pics. Dirk comments that a particular stretch of cliffs reminds him of the Amphitheatre of the Drakensberg. Wow, just, wow. So stunning. More climbing and climbing and climbing (ears popping) we arrive at a town right at the very top of the pass, called Kabernet. It’s quite an advanced town, very green, lots of nice looking buildings and schools / collages. And down we go again on the other side.

Push on to Baringo and arrive there just after 14:20. We pay a small fee of 500 KSH per vehicle to enter (a steal!). The camp site looks good, and they have lodges so we ask about them. There is one house available, for a mere 13000 KSH per night. As in, a proper HOUSE, with rooms, a kitchen, 2 bathrooms and a huge stoep (porch) overlooking the lake. The manager also informs us that the lake is full of hippos and crocs, and given the proximity of the house to the water (I reckoned about 30m) we should that care at night. The hippos DO and WILL come out of the water once it gets dark. Also, early morning you can expect to find a bank full of crocodiles. We say “cooooool” :)

Everybody nominates a room and settles in, hook up the vehicles fridges to the house’s power and start chatting about dinner. The view from the stoep is incredible. Lake Baringo stretches out before you, little islands in the middle, and the light and clouds are playing on the water. Lots (LOTS) of little birds around. I almost stepped on one, they’re that tame. I noticed later that they all hive little metal tags around their right foot. The cleaning lady (yeah, the house comes with a cleaning lady, who also makes us coffee and tea!) mentioned later that there is a German researcher close by who is studying these birds. Lots of old or dead trees pepper the bank, with little bird nests in them. There is a pier off the left, and a couple of boats marooned close by. Lots of comfy chairs and couches for everyone to lounge on, kitchen right next to the porch. No sight of hippos or crocs and no hippo calls (you can hear them for km’s). The lake is a turquoise dirty green and very very calm.

I setup my mobile office in the lounge and get my charging station and memory card readers working for their keep. There is also a trampoline nearby which Annelie sweeps (it’s full of leaves, since it’s under this huge thorny tree). We lay on the trampoline and watch the birds flutter about, little nests hanging in the tree above. So peaceful. Annelie is feeling better again, but such are the lulls between taking the drugs. We chat a bit and spend some quality time together (don’t get a lot of that on this trip). I explore the bank a little, take pics and notice these interesting indents in the soil. Hippos! I call Annelie over and have her put her foot next to and into rather large footprint. Yikes! That’s a biiiiig boy. So the legend is true... Nab some very very cool sunset shots.

Dinner is a delicious meat pasta, courtesy of Marietta and I over eat again. Unfortunately, Mattie peppered the dish with a kilo of garlic (well, not a kilo. But a lot) and Annelie is kind of allergic to it. So after dinner we walk over the reception/bar/restaurant and order her some grilled chicken. It’s dark already, so we are accompanied by a guard with a stick. I later asked how useful the stick is, he reckons not much. Hippos fear light more than anything, so just shine a torch their way. If that fails, throw a rock. If that fails, you’re boned. RUN!

We settle in at a table on the grassy area outside the “Thirsty Goat”. It’s quite hot and humid, bats fluttering around everywhere. As usual, there’s the resident hungry kitty meowing away for attention. We spot a little bat as it flies in and hangs upside down on a skirting board on the bar. Cute! Dinner arrives and it looks very good. Annelie reckons it is. The next minute we hear a rolling thunder running towards us, off to the left! I shine my torch just in time to catch 2 very large hippos trampling bushes and kicking up dust just a few meters away, running towards the camp gate, 3 camp escorts branding flashlights in tow. Before long the same pair runs back towards the lake *THUMP THUMP THUMP THUMP CRAAAASH!* into the trees and bushes. Gets back up *THUMP THUMP THUMP THUMP thump thump thum...*. Guards arrive at the scene and scan the area, nothing. At this point Annelie is about ready to run, half a chicken sticking out of her mouth. I tell her to relax, what’s the worst that could happen? (she hates it when I say that). All the drama seems to have played out, and we settle back down. But man, it was the closest we’ve gotten to hippos yet, couldn’t have been more than 8 meters. And they were piiiiissed OFF! They make these hectic, weird growling sounds when they’re angry, and it’s quite loud.

Annelie finishes her meal, and I down my second Fanta (I’m going to have to go into rehab to recover from my addiction to the Orange Dragon. Anybody know a good Fanta and Savannah recovery clinic??) and we hail a taxi. Taxi arrives with torch and guides our way, but Annelie clings to my left arm, still in fight or flight mode. I have to admit, I was scanning every dark corner and bush with my own flashlight! The trick is NOT to shine a torch directly into their eyes, because it startles them and the storm. So you do this sweeping motion instead. The guard shows us the spot where one of the hippos tripped and fell (the crashing sound we heard... and felt).

We arrive back at the house and tell the others. They say “we know. Those two caught an awful bee in their bonnet and thumped their way past the porch earlier.” But not before crashing into a tree! They’re not very spatially aware, are they? They also mention that one hippo walked half way up the stairs to the porch before looking up, seeing lights and running off. Coooool :)

On the porch, I scan over the bank and water. Yellow eyes reflect back at me. Multiple, malice laden, hungry eyes sparkle back at me. I grab my binoculars and try my best to identify the owners. I count about 3 crocodiles and 2 hippos. We switch everything off and wait a while, since the hippos won’t come closer if we keep lighting them. A few minutes later we had a big fella grazing a few meters away from the porch. The crocodiles didn’t move. But I was willing to bet my bottom Shilling that there were many more of them tucked under the surf.

I’m setting my alarm for 05:00 tomorrow. I want to snap some pics of these guys coming out of the water. Or rather, returning to it.

Mosquito nets are pretty useless over the beds. And it’s so hot and humid! The nets just make it worse. There’s a fan in the room which I switch on, and it makes this high pitched squeaking sound as it pivots. Swell. Annelie and I are sleeping in separate beds (again). That’s just how we end up with our room assignments! Just as well, it’s too hot to have another body lying next to you.

Till tomorrow. Ima goin’ croc huntin’ (crickey!)

[G & A], out

Something there for me

PS: i fixed the comments

My bad. Thought it would be sexy to have the comments section as part of the same page, instead of a pop up. Didn’t test it, of course. DOH! And I make a change today, only get internet access again in a week, and well, ja.

 

So all fixed. Don’t be shy!

 

G

 

19 July, Day 36: and then there was this Cheshire cat...

Mattie is sticking us for breakfast at the hotel and we arrive at 08:00. Pretty good spread of chow, didn’t expect anything less from a 5 star joint. Eggs, bacon, croissants, all sorts of juices, the works. Feel like royalty.

Last night Annelie spoke to her mom about Walter (the Amoeba). A medical expert down south reckons she should organise another course of quite potent antibiotics, Flagyl to rid her of her unwanted guest. They also reckon should you choose to ignore Walter too long he’ll be selling upscale apartments in her liver, kidneys and the penthouse suites in her brain to his new extended family of Clan Walter. And once the whole family moves in, you’re boned. As in, you almost need chemo to get rid of them. So, we’re off to the nearest chemist first to pick up a batch of heavy weapons. Playtime is over, asshole!

While we park off in town, we also refuel and do all the pre-flight checks. We’re back on the road by about 10:00, pass a lot of rice paddies on the way. Fanie gets pulled over about an hour later for speeding, and doesn’t have enough Ugandan shillings to pay the spot fine. He’s expected to park the vehicle until he can pay the fine. He says that he can’t do that and that the officer should let him off with a warning. The officer asks why he should do that. He replies because the officer is a good man. The officer asks what currency does he have. He says Kenyan Shillings. The officer gladly accepts 1000 KSH and lets him off with a warning. Fanie thanks the officer. The officer no doubt pockets the money. Just another day in paradise.

By almost noon we hit the Kenyan / Ugandan border. I’m immediately confused. I ask in quite seriousness if we’re sure this is a border post. Because there are asphalt roads all the way. Trimmed gardens and grass. NO chaos. No money vendors swarming the vehicle. No old, sad, broken trucks and chickens and bikes and crowds. Lots of parking. I’m a little taken aback. We park the vehicles and walk over to the big concrete and glass building (also, in a well maintained condition). It kind of resembles a flight control tower. Step into a very organised and clean office, friendly gentlemen in bright traditional Kenyan garb invites us to sit. We hand him the carnets and he points us in the direction of immigration. Off we go, fill in the cards, get the stamps. Walk over to fetch the carnets, handshake and away we go. Smooth. Real smooth. I’m beginning to think this is going to be a first. Excellent service, sunshine day, birds chirping (yeah, this border post even has BIRDS!). Drive the vehicles over to the Ugandan side and start all over again.

Still a pretty building, clearly painted a short while ago. Go through the motions, but the clerks behind the counters have way bigger attitude problems (my take on Kenya thus far. Arrogant morons, some of them). Hand over the carnets while we deal with immigration. On the way back we hit a snag. Long story short but the $40 we paid for a temporary vehicle license (i.e. for the privilege to drive on Kenyan roads) is now invalid, since we left the country. We argue that it’s still valid, for at least another month, says so on the disc. The argue that this is not the case. We say that the border official at Busia assured us it’s ok, since we told them of our travel intentions. They stick to their guns. 4 Pissed of Souf Afriken Males. Around and around we go, we demand to see the Road Act, article 7b that deals with these discs, they say they don’t have it on them. We want to see the boss. He goes to see the boss. Back to square one. We explain that this is utter bullshit. We want to see the boss. They look at the carnets and see 3 of the 4 vehicles are classified “pick ups”, Dirk’s Toyota is a “station wagon”. Pick-ups are commercial vehicles, according to them, so another $40. We argue that they’re private vehicles. They stick to their guns. In between all of this we learn that if we say we’re only in Kenya for 7 days, we don’t need to pay for the vehicles. But that’s ONLY if they’re NOT commercial vehicles. Which they’re not. But they think they are. We demand to see the boss.

Eventually we get to see Mr Personality. He repeats what’s been said. We explain our situation, on how 2 wrongs can’t make a right, on how we were duped, we prove that we were only in Kenya for 5 days the first time ANYWAY, so we overpaid. The other customs clerk still fights his case (the little weasel). The Boss explains how he can’t bend the rules because his colleagues made a mistake. Round and round we go. Eventually he instructs the peon to give us 7 days and let it be. Peon, now dejected since his authority has been overruled takes about 5 months to walk back to his desk, fill in the forms, in duplicate since they now need to keep a record of this, before handing it back to us. We thank him anyways.

Off to the police desk to sign in the book. Again, shocked! Clean office, police officer standing up straight, as opposed to slouching over the counter, barely swatting the flies crowding him, and he takes our details one by one, double checking all the info. Shocking. Usually I just fill in any crap, Name: Daffy Duck, Occupation: Meat Popsicle... and so on. No no no, that’s not how it goes in THIS office. He even stamps the carnets with his official stamp, which is a first.

It is now 13:00. We’ve now been here for over 2 hours. The rest complete their inputs. I find Annelie making friends again with the street vendors (all kids). Meet a most inspiring young gentlemen, Wilkins. Chat a bit, he’s clearly a diamond in this rough. And a DAMN good salesmen! Almost had me handing over my cell phone so I can buy a new one! Sneaky sneaky. I pay him a few hundred shillings and Annelie gives them a stack of pens, about 2 each. Also hand each of them a banana or three. Feel very humbled by that little interaction with Wilkins.

Anecdote: When you go the AA for the Carnet de Passages, you tell the useless bastard at the desk that they should NOT classify a PRIVATE, enclosed DOUBLE CAB bakkie as a “Pick up”. The engine capacity should also be indicated as “2.99 litres” and not “3” or above.

On our way again, rubbish asphalt. It’s been driven to destruction by these huge trucks. And I suppose it gets quite hot here, so the road has been remoulded to resemble a failed pottery class project. You end up driving in these ditches and if you want to change lanes to pass a truck or whatever it feels exactly like wake boarding! I’m a rubbish wake boarder. This wasn’t any better. I handle it with my usual flair.

Anecdote: damn I’m good.

Later the afternoon we arrive in Eldoret. We got a hot tip from Nat (of Adrift fame) that we should totally check out Raj’s place, the Nariberi River Camp. We do, and we are not disappointed. It has to be the most well thought out site I’ve seen to date. All plants and forest almost, the stands have a big entertainment area, with a washing line, a basin for washing up, benches, 2 grills... all covered by a high straw roof. But the real surprise was yet to come. At reception I hang a left and see this big, dark portal heading into what seems like a tunnel. I head down it a bit, thinking I’ll just peek my head in. The tunnel just keeps going, and going, and going. It’s lined with flower beds with all sorts of plants, and the ceiling has clear Perspex panels every few meters for light.

So, how deep does the rabbit hole go?

Quite a while.

And just like Alice, I finally exit the tunnel into a hidden world. A big, round bar and lounge area, with lots of couches and nooks to chill in. Off to the side is a pool table, the other, a poker table. A huge hearth dominates one lounge area. Behind it, a water feature sprouts water into a channel that criss crosses through it all (and I later traced all the way down into the forest). The whole thing is covered in a thatch roof with the same clear panel to allow natural light in. Beautiful. But that's not all. It leads out into cascades of tables, ending in a bright blue swimming pool with a little water fall. Beyond that is another entertainment area with its own little bar, big grassy area and finally, a forest. All very tastefully decorated, and all stunning. What’s cool is that from the reception (on the higher level) all you see looking down is this dome, with clear panels. Only once you’ve taken the plunge into the tunnel does the whole design become apparent. No pot smoking caterpillars though.

Annelie is dealing with the antibiotics as best she can. It’s quite powerful stuff. Makes her ratty, anxious, emotional, suicidal, paranoid, tired and gives her heart palpitations. Eish. She’s doping herself with some Xanor, just a quarter tablet, to even it out. She had a half today but it’s WAY too much, almost clocked her out. She was as cool as a green banana. So only quarters from now on, let’s see how it goes.

I made some hash browns (artappel koekies) tonight, which went well with the steaks and salads (Marietta makes KILLER salad!!). The dinner conversation generally centred around our next moves. We want to enter the Masai Mara to catch a glimpse of the Migration. All the critters should be in the process of returning there, but we need to find out first if it’s even on. The migration process, as Fanie elegantly puts it, is like a gathering of clouds. More and more clouds gather until finally, almost random, it starts to rain. Why and when the beasts decide that that critical mass has been reached, no one knows. So if we arrive too early, we won’t see it. Just a bunch of animals biding their time. And at $60 per person per night, and given our tight schedule to reach Zanzibar in 2 weeks, we REALLY want to time it right. The guys put some calls in, as well as chatting to the guy in charge of the overlander (that’s a big truck full of back packers, that travel from camp to camp. The trucks are kitted out with kitchens, bunks, the works!) about what they know. Raj may also have some contacts in Kenya, so we’ll chat tomorrow and see.

Till then.

[G & A], out

Before you slip into unconsciousness, I’d like to have another kiss