November 11, 2010
Bueno,
Well, it certaily appears that I'm around internet and cell phone coverage much more regularly than I assumed I would be... Although I rarely have a ton of time at a computer on any given instance... Anyway, I read an email from my friend Allan this morning who spent a good chunk of time traversing Africa from Kenya to Capetown. He mentioned that it's hard to relate/describe all the stories you collect while traveling in Africa, and I certainly agree. Every single day has been worthy of a lengthy email or conversation at the pub with a nice cool Alaskan Amber. Every day has been an adventure of some sort thus far. So here's another one...
Yesterday, I had to drive back to Mongu from Kalabo to retrieve a coworker who had been in Lusaka. The road between Mongu and Kalabo is no ordinary road, though. It is Johnny Fourwheeler's wet dream. A rough and chaotic network of variously rugged four wheel drive tracks, traversing high grass, deep sand, rutted mud, pools and puddles, streams, and remote Zambian villages. The road is about 40 miles, but it takes 4 hours to drive. It crosses the Zambezi River via pontoon boat, which each crossing is a story in itself... Anyway, our primary field vehicle in Liuwa Plain is kind of a suped up ESPN hunter's vehicle. One of those big, burly, four wheel drive golf carts all decked out in camo with various racks for various things. The thing is, it has no windows or windshields. And just a little tarp for a roof. If you have your rain gear on, it's no big deal. It's actually great. But when you forget your raingear back at camp and have to drive to Mongu and back in a monsoon rain and high winds, the situation suddenly becomes less than a barrell of laughs... Which is exactly what happened. After six or so years working outside, I somehow managed to be foolish enough to leave my rain gear behind. Bad mistake... After the first two hours of driving through the downpour, shivering and daydreaming of things like a warm sleeping bag, a hot cup of coffee, or even just a dry place to stand out of the rain and wind, I arrived at the pontoon on the Zambezi. The pontoon was broken temporarily, as one of the two engine's fan belts had snapped. The fix took the pontoon crew about an hour, so I decided to huddle and shiver behind the four wheeler and take my lick. I only sat huddled for a couple minutes before a local lady living in a reed hut near the river called at me and motioned for me to come to her hut and sit out of the rain. I did, and was very grateful! I ended up sharing the hut with her, her husband, and a large collection of adolescent and infant children. Perhaps 8 or more? None of them spoke English, but I made the appropriate thank you gestures, and smiled and laughed with the little kids who kept staring at me as though I was a recent arrival from Jupiter. Later, a Dutch/Zambian farming couple arrived to the pontoon in their safari vehicle, and saw me and loaned me their jacket. We eventually crossed the Zambezi, made it to Mongu, whereupon I gave the jacket back and the Zambian man told me, "Yep, Africa has a steep learning curve, eh?" and laughed. He took a picture of me to add to his safari scrapbook and continued on his way...
Funny. A boy calling Montana and Alaska home, shivering his britches off in the African summer!
The return drive to Kalabo was exciting as well. No rain, but thousands of sizeable frogs hopping across the road. A few jackals made their appearance as the sun began to set over Angola, and then darkness set in. The drive in the darkness was uneventful except for a few cattlemen coaxing their cows down the road, the chilly breeze, and the hundreds of thousands of moths and other bugs making their way directly into my face as we sped along the dirt track... We got back to the park housing in Kalabo in time for a cup of tea and a National Geographic episode on Wild Yellowstone. Drinking tea, eating pasta, and watching people like Roy Renkin of Yellowstone on tv whilst sitting in far western Zambia. Strange...
Anyway, it's back to the park today (I think; plans change here every couple of hours!), where we can begin our prey surveys. We have to survey 16 transects throughout the park and document how many ungulates we see, what species, what age and sex, by Sunday night. I hope we can get it done! Hope all is well in the snowy/rainy conditions back home!
I miss you all!
Cheerio,
Daven
Bueno,
Well, it certaily appears that I'm around internet and cell phone coverage much more regularly than I assumed I would be... Although I rarely have a ton of time at a computer on any given instance... Anyway, I read an email from my friend Allan this morning who spent a good chunk of time traversing Africa from Kenya to Capetown. He mentioned that it's hard to relate/describe all the stories you collect while traveling in Africa, and I certainly agree. Every single day has been worthy of a lengthy email or conversation at the pub with a nice cool Alaskan Amber. Every day has been an adventure of some sort thus far. So here's another one...
Yesterday, I had to drive back to Mongu from Kalabo to retrieve a coworker who had been in Lusaka. The road between Mongu and Kalabo is no ordinary road, though. It is Johnny Fourwheeler's wet dream. A rough and chaotic network of variously rugged four wheel drive tracks, traversing high grass, deep sand, rutted mud, pools and puddles, streams, and remote Zambian villages. The road is about 40 miles, but it takes 4 hours to drive. It crosses the Zambezi River via pontoon boat, which each crossing is a story in itself... Anyway, our primary field vehicle in Liuwa Plain is kind of a suped up ESPN hunter's vehicle. One of those big, burly, four wheel drive golf carts all decked out in camo with various racks for various things. The thing is, it has no windows or windshields. And just a little tarp for a roof. If you have your rain gear on, it's no big deal. It's actually great. But when you forget your raingear back at camp and have to drive to Mongu and back in a monsoon rain and high winds, the situation suddenly becomes less than a barrell of laughs... Which is exactly what happened. After six or so years working outside, I somehow managed to be foolish enough to leave my rain gear behind. Bad mistake... After the first two hours of driving through the downpour, shivering and daydreaming of things like a warm sleeping bag, a hot cup of coffee, or even just a dry place to stand out of the rain and wind, I arrived at the pontoon on the Zambezi. The pontoon was broken temporarily, as one of the two engine's fan belts had snapped. The fix took the pontoon crew about an hour, so I decided to huddle and shiver behind the four wheeler and take my lick. I only sat huddled for a couple minutes before a local lady living in a reed hut near the river called at me and motioned for me to come to her hut and sit out of the rain. I did, and was very grateful! I ended up sharing the hut with her, her husband, and a large collection of adolescent and infant children. Perhaps 8 or more? None of them spoke English, but I made the appropriate thank you gestures, and smiled and laughed with the little kids who kept staring at me as though I was a recent arrival from Jupiter. Later, a Dutch/Zambian farming couple arrived to the pontoon in their safari vehicle, and saw me and loaned me their jacket. We eventually crossed the Zambezi, made it to Mongu, whereupon I gave the jacket back and the Zambian man told me, "Yep, Africa has a steep learning curve, eh?" and laughed. He took a picture of me to add to his safari scrapbook and continued on his way...
Funny. A boy calling Montana and Alaska home, shivering his britches off in the African summer!
The return drive to Kalabo was exciting as well. No rain, but thousands of sizeable frogs hopping across the road. A few jackals made their appearance as the sun began to set over Angola, and then darkness set in. The drive in the darkness was uneventful except for a few cattlemen coaxing their cows down the road, the chilly breeze, and the hundreds of thousands of moths and other bugs making their way directly into my face as we sped along the dirt track... We got back to the park housing in Kalabo in time for a cup of tea and a National Geographic episode on Wild Yellowstone. Drinking tea, eating pasta, and watching people like Roy Renkin of Yellowstone on tv whilst sitting in far western Zambia. Strange...
Anyway, it's back to the park today (I think; plans change here every couple of hours!), where we can begin our prey surveys. We have to survey 16 transects throughout the park and document how many ungulates we see, what species, what age and sex, by Sunday night. I hope we can get it done! Hope all is well in the snowy/rainy conditions back home!
I miss you all!
Cheerio,
Daven
Bigger does not necessarily mean better on the Mongu Road. These guys were buried before we were and hadn't made a whole lot of progress by the time we'd winched and dug ourselves out. Who knows how long they hung around in the mud..
The crossing at the Zambezi River. I huddled in a reed hut similar to the one in this photo for an hour or so during a torrential downpour. If I hadn't been approaching hypothermia, I would have thought it to be one of the most surreal experiences of my life. But since I was too cold and wet to think about anything other than ways to warm up, I thankfully sat and shivered until the fan belt on the pontoon was repaired and we could carry on through the rain once again.
A typical scene on any rural road in Zambia. We gave all the people in the foreground (plus another five or six passengers to be picked up later) a ride to Mongu.
Our fleet in Liuwa Plain National Park. The goofy looking rig on the left is the machine I rallied with through the downpour. We had this thing stuck a few times, but when it was running and not blowing head gaskets, it did fairly well in the sand, mud, and swamp.
Yet as mentioned above, we found ways to bury this thing in the sand and mud on occasion. This situation was a dandy to dig out, as we were all sloppy and soaking wet from head to toe. Matt elected to try to woo Pyatt's Crackers and attract some sort of big time donation by giving them a bit of free advertising out in the Zambian bush...
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