Back in the CKGR - You don’t know how lucky you are (boy)!

Roadside picnic on the way to CKGR

We have left our campsite in Deception Valley in the Central Kalahari Game Reserve (CKGR) as dawn cracks (actually slightly later than that, but pretty early none-the-less). We arrived in camp late afternoon Saturday after one flat tire (before we even left Maun) and a fabulous picnic lunch along the way (thanks to our friend Stephanie who did all the cooking for the trip for the President’s holiday weekend). We are hoping to see what we can see on our first morning out…perhaps a lion or some cheetah. It was an unusually cold and quiet night (besides the loud snoring of some of our camp-mates). We are thankful for the enclosed safari vehicle. I am still in my long johns and winter hat and gloves (few think of that when they think of being in a desert in Botswana).

Trundling along, scanning the bushes and peering through yellow grasses that are the perfect match for a lion’s mane, we look up straight ahead on the road and see a pack of wild dogs. What starts as three, turns to five, six, seven and ultimately nine. They appear to be waiting for all to return. Perhaps this is their rallying point. With each additional dog there are greetings, sniffing and tail wagging. Happy dogs jump and prance a bit farther down the road. Some have obviously been on a kill as their heads are red with blood. Two are clearly collared for research purposes. We spend a good amount of our morning with them. At times they behave as if we are not there and other times one or two watch us intently as others spring on and off the road. Maybe sending out scouts looking for more for breakfast? They eventually peel off into the woods near us. Passing by our vehicle. Looking at us. Carrying on with whatever their plans are for the rest of the day.

 

 

Secretary bird hunting

In addition to this lucky encounter we see many of the usual suspects of the Kalahari – bat eared fox, spring bok, giraffe, wildebeest, kori bustards, etc. We also see many secretary birds – large (perhaps 3 feet tall) birds known for their head crest that looks like pencils stuck in a secretary’s hair. Bent until their bodies are perpendicular to the earth they dig with their feet looking for bugs, rodents and snakes. When they find something, they stomp the crap out it and them tip over (like the childhood song “I’m a little tea pot”) and eat it up!

Springbok

Curious giraffe

Gemsbok pair

Sea of ostrich

Vultures and wildebeest at Piper Pans

Bat eared fox

Post-lunch back in camp we prepare for our afternoon shower. The desert is so dry that any water brings bees searching for something to quench their thirst. There are six in total in our group and while showers #1 and #2 have a few bee visitors by mine, shower #3, it can literally be described as the “shower of terror” as the bees are up in the double digits. For those of you who know me well, you know that I don’t exactly “love” bees (although I have gotten much better). Even the buzzing of bees sends a little chill up my spine (kind of like a dentist drill!) so imagine being naked with bees buzzing all around your head (and other body parts) and trying to quickly wash yourself as the volume increases. 

I turn on the water spout, rinse, turn it off. Bees settle on me to drink…in the arch of my foot, on my head. If I thought their buzz was bad, the silence of one landing and drinking the water from your hair is even worse! I actually touch one as I go to rinse the shampoo out of my hair. They send out word to more of their bee friends. Now there’s a swarm. I clean faster! While my plan was to put on clothes before exiting the shower tent and going back to my tent, I can’t take it anymore, wrap myself in a towel (conditioner only “mostly” out of my hair) and bolt. Dripping all the way, they follow me back to my tent and surround it. Perhaps I won’t leave until the sun goes down. Shower candidate #4 is stung. #5 decides to do a “shower” out of the washing basin and avoid the whole shower tent. #6 opts out completely. Did I mention Africa is not for sissies?

The Gang at Deception Pan for sundowners

Each night we find a beautiful spot for sundowners - the African tradition of a drink at sundown is not to be missed. One night we go to Deception Valley and manage to coordinate a group self-portrait. On our last night we enjoy the last light of day as a string of giraffe nibble on some tall trees and wait for their herd to regroup. There are several large giraffes who have just crossed the road from right to left but as we pull up, the migration stops, leaving a few adolescents and some young ones separated from their people. We try to be as quiet as possible in order to calm their fears. This causes the largest of the stragglers to go join the group but not the youngest ones. It’s getting dark. What will happen to the young ones if they are separated from the adults all night? But, not to worry, as the adolescent joins the adults they all turn to cross back across the road, left to right and make their way over to the tree line where the youngest ones remain. As the last of the African sun sets, and the purplish pink of the Eastern skies glow (my favorite part of the 360 views is actually the opposite side of the sunset), all is well in the world.

PS: The only challenge of our trip (worse than the bees!) was an aggressive anthropologist that Paul had invited to join our group. As a band of misfits – Paul and I, Gavin - the best intern ever, Paul’s book keeper (and chef extraordinaire!) Stephanie, and our artist friend Mr. Mike – what’s one more? I should have known there might be trouble when he called less than 12 hours before departure to tell us he would be joining us (we hadn’t heard from him since the initial invite ten days earlier). And, if that wasn’t enough of a warning, when we told him he needed to be “self-sufficient” and then he showed up without a chair and no beer to drink (so he drank ours!) that should have been the final clue. Working on a PhD on the impact of cultural tourism (but unaware that there were bushmen living in the CKGR which could have easily been found with one two word Google search of “Botswana” and “Bushmen” which would have brought him to this - http://www.survivalinternational.org/tribes/bushmen), for some unknown reason he felt the need to get into a disciplinary war with me (I mean, really, you want to fight with me over the differences between sociology and anthropology on vacation??). Unfortunately, I let him get to me and, while my head was not exactly covered in blood like the wild dogs returning from a kill we had seen earlier on in the trip, it wasn’t pretty. Note to self: no more aggressive anthropologists allowed on future trips!