tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6352119730122558442024-02-20T17:33:45.452-08:00Graydon's TravelsThe ongoing travel adventures of a Canadian-born global nomad.Unknownnoreply@blogger.comBlogger141125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-635211973012255844.post-87253423262710896032023-12-22T08:08:00.000-08:002023-12-22T08:08:54.364-08:00Travel and Trauma: 2023 in Review<div class="separator"><br /></div><p> </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-CA" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;">Leysin,
Switzerland</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-CA" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;">As I sit
here in my friend Julie-Ann’s apartment, looking out at a drab, rainy day, it
doesn’t look or seem Christmas-like. I always think back to my childhood Christmases
in Thunder Bay in the 1970s and 1980s, which were (in my recollection anyway)
always white. Over my decades of travel, I have had a number of Christmases in
the tropics or in the Southern Hemisphere which were green, but I love snow
and an attractive white covering on the ground, and so to be in a Northern Hemisphere
ski resort on December 22 and see green grass and grey drizzle coming down depresses
the spirits. Nevertheless, even if the surroundings don’t look like it, it’s a
few days before Christmas and time for my end-of-year summary of 2023, with its
ups and downs, its travel and its landmarks.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-CA" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYkwRe5A8yKc1vtAJqOCLdH8hyPR_4lrJbAg3cDNLdtUKoJigLOp6HFOP4ewQl6sUreLKLxPm1QIshhUVuU5E9hK2_y4m0RVm1RYBNfYolCSm64AcmmZWOH7W40NvzmbkdKZsOjbhd-GVeYgbj3lTbr72fR1_fyFRpOU8zwqcyKlR8KwhwRPTUEAmp6AQ/s2000/DSC_8738.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; font-family: "Times New Roman"; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1331" data-original-width="2000" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYkwRe5A8yKc1vtAJqOCLdH8hyPR_4lrJbAg3cDNLdtUKoJigLOp6HFOP4ewQl6sUreLKLxPm1QIshhUVuU5E9hK2_y4m0RVm1RYBNfYolCSm64AcmmZWOH7W40NvzmbkdKZsOjbhd-GVeYgbj3lTbr72fR1_fyFRpOU8zwqcyKlR8KwhwRPTUEAmp6AQ/s320/DSC_8738.jpg" width="320" /></a><span lang="EN-CA">The year began for Terri and me at Bullbush Camp in Uganda, camped on a rapidly-eroding riverbank that had us worried about waking up very wet. We spent most of January exploring Uganda, visiting a number of national parks in search of new animals and birds. Highlights included visiting wild chimps in the Kyambura Gorge in Queen Elizabeth Park, walking in the Ruwenzori Mountains (the fabled Mountains of the Moon), camping amidst the playful monkeys of Lake Nkuruba, and going on safari in fabulous Kidepo Valley National Park in the far north of the country. Uganda was definitely our favourite country and the major highlight of our time in East Africa in 2022-23.</span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhj2QG4kxyDmFOw5Ah4vquhGHqscg9M3y8ucaHTRlkAUQlCIqj5CNfsA9qjT12HDhg_U9d4BUc0OaSGMMl5slkmhy-HN-ODhG9EBH5oeSNE-En3O7KP1pLhxGeC4QmvcOeIhKivLlotik8QF4ITFisUggDRWb7n0-dxZxKOyZogwRTAAUAwT0gMDzmTTQo/s2000/DSC_8867.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1333" data-original-width="2000" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhj2QG4kxyDmFOw5Ah4vquhGHqscg9M3y8ucaHTRlkAUQlCIqj5CNfsA9qjT12HDhg_U9d4BUc0OaSGMMl5slkmhy-HN-ODhG9EBH5oeSNE-En3O7KP1pLhxGeC4QmvcOeIhKivLlotik8QF4ITFisUggDRWb7n0-dxZxKOyZogwRTAAUAwT0gMDzmTTQo/s320/DSC_8867.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; 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<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-CA" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8nGqURzGVg4lJwRuReTbnc_k-NPSF2IV5uz39Q-DEK_x5nD1_WWpQuCqitUrzxPsUJOm-L7Yfzaxgb8ficV3sFTeRpZsV3SH3Mw3uBqCSVBDBr0g1SXNQpY3Vp5swElTfpDqG7FSqYr6TmTEhnLxmPDbVtC4K3M5Sh7uSvgFvsqAxJOn4zyHMNZnw50w/s1000/DSC_9999.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1000" data-original-width="667" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8nGqURzGVg4lJwRuReTbnc_k-NPSF2IV5uz39Q-DEK_x5nD1_WWpQuCqitUrzxPsUJOm-L7Yfzaxgb8ficV3sFTeRpZsV3SH3Mw3uBqCSVBDBr0g1SXNQpY3Vp5swElTfpDqG7FSqYr6TmTEhnLxmPDbVtC4K3M5Sh7uSvgFvsqAxJOn4zyHMNZnw50w/s320/DSC_9999.jpg" width="213" /></a><span lang="EN-CA" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;">We then
retreated to The Haven, a legendary overlanders’ spot outside Jinja, to
contemplate our next moves. We had wanted to drive into Kenya and then on
through Ethiopia and Sudan to Egypt, but Ethiopia’s new and ridiculous customs
rules (which would have required us putting down a deposit of tens of thousands
of dollars at the border to guarantee that we wouldn’t sell Stanley inside the
country) put the kibosh on that plan. We toyed with the idea of paying an Ethiopian
tour agency US$ 1200 to arrange a “tour” of the country to get around the
problem, but after due consideration, we thought that it left us too vulnerable
and opted against that plan. (This was just as well, as we might well have been
in Sudan in April when the civil war kicked off, which would have been the end
of our trip, the end of Stanley, and possibly the end of us.) Instead we
decided to drive around Kenya and then retreat south to Zambia to store Stanley
for a few months.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-CA" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-CA" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;"><br /></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-CA" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;">We had a limited
time budget left for Kenya, so we just hit a few highlights of this intriguing
country. We started with a white-knuckle drive (with Terri at the wheel) high
up Mt. Elgon, one of the highest peaks in the country, for a day of hiking in
the Afro-Montane heathland with its distinctive lobelia and giant groundsel
plants. We braved the bandit-infested road north of Kitale to reach Lake
Turkana, a place famous for its remains of early hominins and for its unruly
local herders. I had wanted to visit there for decades, so I really enjoyed our
time camped beside the unearthly blue of the lake. We retreated south, then
across to wonderful Ol Pejeta Conservancy and its rhinos (including the last
two northern white rhinos in existence). From there it was time to begin the
retreat south, via lovely Kichaka Camp and into Tanzania.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibrTt1wSX2b2sswYxNKXePTS9czOER-16Nu_CWUDtYMMyhxCuQYE5WWWoerXM728DVm9EEfkcM6wsj-vWFF8R1vwRMHZ9oCDBL7HigVTXEMsT5TsvrxlfSYQ9S_JZN02gV_G7wvNc_eDLunxPA1BaZCZmAAL7Q_hEAbpKoep4RnSI9j-XpUmHzD8LY68M/s1000/DSC_0855.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="667" data-original-width="1000" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibrTt1wSX2b2sswYxNKXePTS9czOER-16Nu_CWUDtYMMyhxCuQYE5WWWoerXM728DVm9EEfkcM6wsj-vWFF8R1vwRMHZ9oCDBL7HigVTXEMsT5TsvrxlfSYQ9S_JZN02gV_G7wvNc_eDLunxPA1BaZCZmAAL7Q_hEAbpKoep4RnSI9j-XpUmHzD8LY68M/s320/DSC_0855.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlpzdFQeKn1kpU8QH2qCPri1kVU7-yBgHQ3mL2DiUajOkp-YnK3Tv_0-XhemEA4gtPEVdT9n0TesT8rqPlJzikfgQhAADVORrS40_uhyphenhyphendqtxq4mMBKEWOqLgKJPXjZrQkiXsXbUBWwfEHQRjY6X32BjFCHMJk-D9JZdu1XZAFZNnSi4a8DuyTfy880ZGQ/s1000/DSC_1063.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; 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text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjG4I96SWVC76LiUaXj-fW23jVED0IHsTSp6Kous2qgygBJ1xDi-dv7Qhn_-LoTNsyrZ-TzuEJM53ISCqqRqUOBlpLdbvYdU7aEEdFIDbwp06fVZ7urZmNF0WDMLmzEQVckujdbizRUQUQXM8diqBfzEgGYwNopaLgmupd6kojc4clU0LL5c1nm3DLQJls/s1000/DSC_0568.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="667" data-original-width="1000" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjG4I96SWVC76LiUaXj-fW23jVED0IHsTSp6Kous2qgygBJ1xDi-dv7Qhn_-LoTNsyrZ-TzuEJM53ISCqqRqUOBlpLdbvYdU7aEEdFIDbwp06fVZ7urZmNF0WDMLmzEQVckujdbizRUQUQXM8diqBfzEgGYwNopaLgmupd6kojc4clU0LL5c1nm3DLQJls/s320/DSC_0568.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><span lang="EN-CA" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;"><br /></span><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-CA" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;">We sprinted
through Tanzania, stopping to visit our Leysin friend Nathalie in Arusha, hike
in the Usumbara Mountains and then spend a few days on Zanzibar. In Dar Es
Salaam I wallowed in nostalgia at the Sno-Cream ice cream parlour I loved 41
years before, and then we drove to Morogoro, where my family lived for two
years in 1981-2. It was my first time back since then, but I still remembered
the way to our old house, where we were allowed to look around by the professor
living there now. Morogoro had transformed over the past four decades, growing six-fold
in population, with houses sprawling far up the forested Uluguru Mountains
behind our old house. It was fun to see the places of a formative period in my
youth that probably ignited the desire to travel that has consumed my life
since then.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-nIQ54f-TBMd8gtHQnHOEQl5Dv5dwlMRkEAHGXqmIHSkIEKdKGLVSprtqRcJW0HhgU-ynZhJUqwUNDgpIDDVVnHKEnPV-yVrDI-7ZmP7lwdtewPLaPeoYtujcm4TS6YOI9pSGbEImWGwR3GsKLeNJbFuSt39yiqJJhFo4-QmXYBoaOnBowFGXgvLzwvQ/s1000/DSC_1069.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="667" data-original-width="1000" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-nIQ54f-TBMd8gtHQnHOEQl5Dv5dwlMRkEAHGXqmIHSkIEKdKGLVSprtqRcJW0HhgU-ynZhJUqwUNDgpIDDVVnHKEnPV-yVrDI-7ZmP7lwdtewPLaPeoYtujcm4TS6YOI9pSGbEImWGwR3GsKLeNJbFuSt39yiqJJhFo4-QmXYBoaOnBowFGXgvLzwvQ/s320/DSC_1069.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQFDGfziDMAtAhhkFdnW4APsblgcRjyME3QJ47eCPqE0XXjMIhb9Qt8Y5S87ml17NlnQKLz7W60nSf3IDEgCPNV9kWsE8JhFyNEuA5ya7z6mwQyb9eMiydBVZjswndrfQsuSeYDBUi3TJkBQsDkWbwyQjfQHj4vcZklvtv-x7C38iO0XCtjBYVJagKwYU/s1000/DSC_1096.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; 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margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1000" data-original-width="667" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-hfAMeOlfWbbs7wGnjSpL8lv-0t13k-BuBNbFFBzID_Ao8O8lTa5Edtvcw_nJmRcJ34rrh9ZFRAjDth3yoSZU2pOsbNn2l6JeoC-i02I7_9ddo5T21uu5cpwf_MA-TD7vjcjGNhyHr8bMdYAU4TnwvYSAJa_H2pWWMi7fXlYyhPmJK6j3r2geURph4xQ/s320/DSC_1198.jpg" width="213" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKuM2gewwgKvQP6LiwZZONmu3R_r81Hb00m8pVK2GvnYpobNsrljVTxFHlGeA1EUkS2CMh9dbHbNXGw3JMqoNoFM1_YEJk21XX2nYPJHBQYCWwHkH3IcArTuwx5KAsowt1FFlHsPv2h-TBuKLIApImGHSlMASHTQKy5UFerdB_Ud03_psNz1-N7t-Wouw/s1000/DSC_1219.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="667" data-original-width="1000" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKuM2gewwgKvQP6LiwZZONmu3R_r81Hb00m8pVK2GvnYpobNsrljVTxFHlGeA1EUkS2CMh9dbHbNXGw3JMqoNoFM1_YEJk21XX2nYPJHBQYCWwHkH3IcArTuwx5KAsowt1FFlHsPv2h-TBuKLIApImGHSlMASHTQKy5UFerdB_Ud03_psNz1-N7t-Wouw/s320/DSC_1219.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhe69TOTvWioCCG7BdV6LCPAhxBe_2LDYFFD92qE6_XTxz4JPL5xCG9-FgFWBv2RWPHJy2957Bmde9kt73ylGl_V2kXU-F7mqxSqzq-qN6A7KMOG4ZjrgCXuwzyZBRqx0eF2M2PYyo96a_vbkLpNzfsEAwAuH275WTwETZQaZ8quN52CAtVAjG_0o6HWec/s1000/DSC_1223.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="667" data-original-width="1000" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhe69TOTvWioCCG7BdV6LCPAhxBe_2LDYFFD92qE6_XTxz4JPL5xCG9-FgFWBv2RWPHJy2957Bmde9kt73ylGl_V2kXU-F7mqxSqzq-qN6A7KMOG4ZjrgCXuwzyZBRqx0eF2M2PYyo96a_vbkLpNzfsEAwAuH275WTwETZQaZ8quN52CAtVAjG_0o6HWec/s320/DSC_1223.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><span lang="EN-CA" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;"><br /></span><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-CA" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;">From
Morogoro, we took six long days of grinding slowly through convoys of
heavily-laden trucks to reach Livingstone, Zambia. It was unrewarding, tedious
travel, but at least we arrived safely, unlike the hundreds of crashed vehicles
that littered the roadside all the way. We parked Stanley at our old faithful
home-away-from-home, the Tabonina Guest House, and flew away to wait out the
rainy season elsewhere.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-CA" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;">I flew to
Canada to visit my mother, who had just moved into an assisted-living facility
in Ottawa after 18 months of living at my sister’s place in Leysin,
Switzerland. She had declined visibly in the eight months since I had last seen
her in Leysin, with her cognitive decline, attributed to vascular dementia, evident.
She hated living in the assisted living place, surrounded as she was by people
in a far more advanced state of dementia who provided her with an unwelcome
vision of her future. My brother Evan was visiting her faithfully at her
facility, but it wasn’t enough to counteract the depressing reality of her reduced
mobility, her confusion and the inevitability of further inexorable decline.
She had decided to apply for the MAID (Medical Assistance In Dying) program,
and while I was there we had the first telephone consultations to start the
application process. It was heart-breaking to see my mother in such distress,
and I fully supported her decision to seek a dignified way out of an untenable position.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
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text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDkqrTxuBBYtUd-BjNOuMh6oyQnN7EA_0DHn2VaNqupWIApF8lWDZoICdMKAdgyCPZVjOvVYgvNgodH7vWqCFwpoejsi0icJJMGLolqnn3oy2eeJ-XgLuaxvrL8F2SbixZvv6aGKqZTuuKTfsVNRbXKPjfQrGauJBaxRSRMWU-3RI9WbafLV8PnjEbyyQ/s1000/DSC_1563.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="667" data-original-width="1000" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDkqrTxuBBYtUd-BjNOuMh6oyQnN7EA_0DHn2VaNqupWIApF8lWDZoICdMKAdgyCPZVjOvVYgvNgodH7vWqCFwpoejsi0icJJMGLolqnn3oy2eeJ-XgLuaxvrL8F2SbixZvv6aGKqZTuuKTfsVNRbXKPjfQrGauJBaxRSRMWU-3RI9WbafLV8PnjEbyyQ/s320/DSC_1563.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><span lang="EN-CA" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;"><br /></span><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-CA" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;">I paid a
visit to Toronto for a few days to visit a number of friends there; Toronto is
the sort of city that attracts people from all over Canada for work, and a
number of friends from high school and university have ended up there. After a packed
social schedule, I flew up to my hometown of Thunder Bay for my first visit
since my father’s death six years previously. It was another nostalgic visit,
seeing old friends for the first time in years, and visiting my father’s grave
for the first time since the funeral. Late March was a fun time for outdoor
activities in Thunder Bay, and I got out cross-country and downhill skiing. It
was a poor time for visiting a grave, as the small headstone is level with the
ground and hence under a layer of melting snow, covered with mud once I had shoveled
it out. I left Thunder Bay in a pensive mood, wondering when I would return to
a town that had been my pole of stability for decades in my peripatetic existence.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-CA" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;">From
Thunder Bay I flew to Bali, where two months of intensive rest and relaxation
awaited. With Thunder Bay and Ottawa no longer really “home”, Bali is now where
I consider my home to be, although I don’t actually spend that much time there.
Terri and I took advantage of the perfect weather to swim, snorkel, dive, kayak,
trek and cycle, and the two months passed in a flash. Before I knew it, we were
on an airplane again, bound for Cape Town.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKTCewI0Kf0JBTClKJp4W-knyHW1dEm5M_OnPrNNxIwOSL2TzyKT029GuyXkg3kCXB9TnOeBArXyxn4woLNhSq43eFn85sI4dQtEEuHlLtfoBRgVYBPQG2jjHyFgVOh0dy6488y4s4HscovmcUNrLCzwsBsN-gPjdp2KU-qyzOy7Gxz3LgMx-OLPPwc8w/s1000/P5220077.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="750" data-original-width="1000" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKTCewI0Kf0JBTClKJp4W-knyHW1dEm5M_OnPrNNxIwOSL2TzyKT029GuyXkg3kCXB9TnOeBArXyxn4woLNhSq43eFn85sI4dQtEEuHlLtfoBRgVYBPQG2jjHyFgVOh0dy6488y4s4HscovmcUNrLCzwsBsN-gPjdp2KU-qyzOy7Gxz3LgMx-OLPPwc8w/s320/P5220077.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQi97aPcUxnYzxiaZA0QLWeh7mbj9QowT7OrIIpqNQLYTnIYWng7Hw-tVME7nfrSQFQkRXY6dpeZHajiW6-y0YQK9St0LUdn5RgWMMslwV57dndf-5wzSfhJJY1JC42cdrZvk88pgHRJtqe4e9sJOBpl9T9kpVi0lXupfNdwJwz5vZrtdlByoKw6INk48/s1000/P5060017.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; 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margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="667" data-original-width="1000" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidyjkTOnIWSEBpouA-e3B6qMphxYLse8QqTej6OoxoMt5d6K2UEv_qlI2UHlaRhF7AowPV4I6fOBXoZKfcLw9tPG4glLahe_or2yIvn_reN9_f6ssfc6qwskjh_r9s2_OjcPfLqFjkKTSwZbFX27fgMeRnS4cR9U-rzEuCL0qPQ1hQd4bdU3Sxbg23UCM/s320/DSC_1951.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><span lang="EN-CA" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;"><br /></span><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-CA" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;">Terri flew
directly to Livingstone from there, but my plans had changed. I had a sad duty
to perform first, so I jumped onto a plane bound for Ottawa, where my mother’s
application for MAID had been accepted and she had chosen the date of June 9<sup>th</sup>
to end a life that had become intolerable to her. My sisters and I gathered at
my brother’s apartment for a couple of last days with my mother, celebrating
her 82 years. Our childhood friends Hans and Jiska, along with my cousin Chris,
joined us, and we visited my mother’s sister who was declining in a nearby
nursing home for a sisterly farewell. On the appointed day we four children
gathered in my mother’s room and held her hand while the MAID doctor
administered the drugs that ended her suffering. It was almost unendurably sad
for us survivors, but it was the way my mother wanted to go, with dignity. We
stayed on for a few days in Ottawa, talking things over, having a wake and
generally trying to process what had just happened; I will always be grateful
to Hans and Jiska for their support in a difficult time. I got onto a plane for
Livingstone in a very subdued mood.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi57SZg3cJcfqfLqggbse-0eAUuHPBduVs7Wr8U8eTR8R7qIKn7iPqIVLmsVRD-FZYP8fQsAAJxzBoWSOH9QGu6BGHGCRA7xDDcOh-S-AO56MyzgY0TjqddRJGzwikNVroLsXjc2J9vp7VZo9d6VMjGRVL6pp6itHADBTMftg6pFMxpx57lExIxJjhOwho/s6000/DSC_2188.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4000" data-original-width="6000" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi57SZg3cJcfqfLqggbse-0eAUuHPBduVs7Wr8U8eTR8R7qIKn7iPqIVLmsVRD-FZYP8fQsAAJxzBoWSOH9QGu6BGHGCRA7xDDcOh-S-AO56MyzgY0TjqddRJGzwikNVroLsXjc2J9vp7VZo9d6VMjGRVL6pp6itHADBTMftg6pFMxpx57lExIxJjhOwho/s320/DSC_2188.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0w5F0TNwwAbkuMzIbDsEOxhQ2yQR5fpd9-vEiT754CqsxRxnxnIGMR-3gYhMdWRsq39cki2-pQDmj9HavKGMsSdTg8rSHYPT8ZAmIik8NZb9fZOv-bpjx2jrpa9qKRz_vGl9acaLrfDgKiJRcm7hje0gBQignniVs1aU5CplTZ5iFyEykbqQNHuYASeg/s6000/DSC_2204.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4000" data-original-width="6000" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0w5F0TNwwAbkuMzIbDsEOxhQ2yQR5fpd9-vEiT754CqsxRxnxnIGMR-3gYhMdWRsq39cki2-pQDmj9HavKGMsSdTg8rSHYPT8ZAmIik8NZb9fZOv-bpjx2jrpa9qKRz_vGl9acaLrfDgKiJRcm7hje0gBQignniVs1aU5CplTZ5iFyEykbqQNHuYASeg/s320/DSC_2204.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br /><span lang="EN-CA" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;"><br /></span><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj99c_qPCZXlPll9fPLU-X4X8Xmw0DDbgRpzTxNJ-0wKvpbCCJRJt8etGCCHGqf-oxSHM3gM3vXKrmJLBICdvTMY4M_hR3lFYtR_Xd7euDLdXyy7-sF0jDx1X7np2jdyHro1dsSG3tElYXLjYQcjod-Pr2wXqtF6YSyWG9oBSxXcg4cpfUnj8w5wOFEnFw/s1000/DSC_2059.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="667" data-original-width="1000" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj99c_qPCZXlPll9fPLU-X4X8Xmw0DDbgRpzTxNJ-0wKvpbCCJRJt8etGCCHGqf-oxSHM3gM3vXKrmJLBICdvTMY4M_hR3lFYtR_Xd7euDLdXyy7-sF0jDx1X7np2jdyHro1dsSG3tElYXLjYQcjod-Pr2wXqtF6YSyWG9oBSxXcg4cpfUnj8w5wOFEnFw/s320/DSC_2059.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMX7YBgBozAJikqG_BKUX518DjIFkbv_rG8gPWKpBpUMlEK-ah4Hhadtol6M3lj8loQbEyfcQ2FAwD-PG1UPuigGk0SDjl4jRSHDZYeoXoY9da1sqc5EmDjZHMIW5w5bsfUifT0Yp6IZh09JpshuqPXsGT6mUzbCQlw6NhtcXy-07Gc8FcrX_bUTH4iE0/s1000/DSC_2060.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="667" data-original-width="1000" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMX7YBgBozAJikqG_BKUX518DjIFkbv_rG8gPWKpBpUMlEK-ah4Hhadtol6M3lj8loQbEyfcQ2FAwD-PG1UPuigGk0SDjl4jRSHDZYeoXoY9da1sqc5EmDjZHMIW5w5bsfUifT0Yp6IZh09JpshuqPXsGT6mUzbCQlw6NhtcXy-07Gc8FcrX_bUTH4iE0/s320/DSC_2060.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitNiECZhiASf-X0DPZu0Km4InJRDXneNhp6oAwqGxfAVRKPN9x4ObDHuW9z6Pvy6BHfO0xAfSZ3QV4uLTszCkOfqreX4HT73WqPbDAILCo-zdi7PCYi-z8590M8hf8aJMuUo6VklbtDRLLf4g7kvtpV3XbUTjvVI1zF4ed5lwPoniCp-L6XCwzyA3cDJM/s1000/DSC_2170.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="667" data-original-width="1000" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitNiECZhiASf-X0DPZu0Km4InJRDXneNhp6oAwqGxfAVRKPN9x4ObDHuW9z6Pvy6BHfO0xAfSZ3QV4uLTszCkOfqreX4HT73WqPbDAILCo-zdi7PCYi-z8590M8hf8aJMuUo6VklbtDRLLf4g7kvtpV3XbUTjvVI1zF4ed5lwPoniCp-L6XCwzyA3cDJM/s320/DSC_2170.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhexFiwVo6pi2Sw9Tpeq1cXOvgZq0wMLvK3Y9C4xashHIeeYV3I7JOk0_dKUwqgPsnpZmJbLxRT3FTNZdBMj3Ug1piLS99XcyWRthMsUYiMGBfOyI-LSnCAEhYU468nEQ5lteqmCUIdRvDdY4Ka1_pz8d-1NbpyOSIhngXs16lrVAF0myegLfHrTxTp2HY/s1000/DSC_2180.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="667" data-original-width="1000" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhexFiwVo6pi2Sw9Tpeq1cXOvgZq0wMLvK3Y9C4xashHIeeYV3I7JOk0_dKUwqgPsnpZmJbLxRT3FTNZdBMj3Ug1piLS99XcyWRthMsUYiMGBfOyI-LSnCAEhYU468nEQ5lteqmCUIdRvDdY4Ka1_pz8d-1NbpyOSIhngXs16lrVAF0myegLfHrTxTp2HY/s320/DSC_2180.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><span lang="EN-CA" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;"><br /></span><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-CA" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;">Our time in
Livingstone was a flurry of activity, getting Stanley in shape for a long road
trip and working on projects at the <a href="https://olivetreelearningcentre.com/" target="_blank">Olive Tree Learning Centre</a>, the community
elementary school that has been Terri’s focus since 2007. We saw new
construction projects get underway, new textbooks and shoes get delivered and an
air of comparative calm envelop the school. We also had a chance meeting with a
member of the Tony Robbins organization which resulted in a completely
unexpected fundraising appeal and substantial donation to the school.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-CA" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyPoAcA-hZ7H-j5prVTc36f4AxHDMe6U4A-R1s28cKUPYxlLTB1LoIt43gdd9kMF-MQblp9ld36lWhwMWcGS-jsfFd7A6dqduwgReELqZda4PToGzkxKb-ttjIIcybq-70sjHEVnFMG_lBwH4gmLLmtZf82_k3Ik9XVz35yCiGarTaVYw_y0lPv9BwpFo/s1000/DSC_2293.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="667" data-original-width="1000" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyPoAcA-hZ7H-j5prVTc36f4AxHDMe6U4A-R1s28cKUPYxlLTB1LoIt43gdd9kMF-MQblp9ld36lWhwMWcGS-jsfFd7A6dqduwgReELqZda4PToGzkxKb-ttjIIcybq-70sjHEVnFMG_lBwH4gmLLmtZf82_k3Ik9XVz35yCiGarTaVYw_y0lPv9BwpFo/s320/DSC_2293.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtU4KnamzCZq6wVEqIKCXPuOrkcLMDGGh7PV8CvF72M_nklT7l8duayiNvuilrVswlEnk6DNXF5jNEZEQbjPuaI2QEuD5nuzbV-mFgGb72IY2XehNxeVR-t3UidgksOXkG99TQBYiezNDqXV5pFzHFjG6GkwXCzvZb5RLPMSAg6UU_5ClyS1hlHpf2PO4/s1000/DSC_2301.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="667" data-original-width="1000" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtU4KnamzCZq6wVEqIKCXPuOrkcLMDGGh7PV8CvF72M_nklT7l8duayiNvuilrVswlEnk6DNXF5jNEZEQbjPuaI2QEuD5nuzbV-mFgGb72IY2XehNxeVR-t3UidgksOXkG99TQBYiezNDqXV5pFzHFjG6GkwXCzvZb5RLPMSAg6UU_5ClyS1hlHpf2PO4/s320/DSC_2301.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGJFX6tgMimswnSle3uxgFommbLjzwVH32e0np5croTo_xOq9ghwmW7mLeSBW7JI0TMuKFFjH_6R8XUjWFvYuYpHBcXIWHBxhVdsJVtLgNzbQI0MriGGD0ccRASH-ZhfFg_ABQWlv81kBG8DfDISXazj-u_h4Ud3CiSszcCg9E_sM_xXSTEaHxlp-cKCM/s1000/DSC_2360.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="667" data-original-width="1000" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGJFX6tgMimswnSle3uxgFommbLjzwVH32e0np5croTo_xOq9ghwmW7mLeSBW7JI0TMuKFFjH_6R8XUjWFvYuYpHBcXIWHBxhVdsJVtLgNzbQI0MriGGD0ccRASH-ZhfFg_ABQWlv81kBG8DfDISXazj-u_h4Ud3CiSszcCg9E_sM_xXSTEaHxlp-cKCM/s320/DSC_2360.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg68cWe4VUFbC1U4CPb-b4sEhbItyAqgYH6D0F4ePynuxk7N4vD9lkLDeWl3REc4wGWITIKXVGDGYWFevjhgvYlK2FeaE-9pB9XYr9s7O4rk6iPDpK7siMCjcE7iYVIQcabuZcCkLLtwunKNMc0ptq3h8K2ZbvIfaO7GKq4nHpWd5svN0WLGSS8iPeQXBY/s1000/DSC_2400.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="668" data-original-width="1000" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg68cWe4VUFbC1U4CPb-b4sEhbItyAqgYH6D0F4ePynuxk7N4vD9lkLDeWl3REc4wGWITIKXVGDGYWFevjhgvYlK2FeaE-9pB9XYr9s7O4rk6iPDpK7siMCjcE7iYVIQcabuZcCkLLtwunKNMc0ptq3h8K2ZbvIfaO7GKq4nHpWd5svN0WLGSS8iPeQXBY/s320/DSC_2400.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0JdSl_ncGx43_tW7pYXLhggY56VKMZ2FwbMlDqrA7oP_Phu4dKOP-xc32BEAnS-4Tqtbk_2w8vz1GL6Gf6L3YYtm7ktDVP9flPUeq2uTrLvzAa51_dXnoHk8rVetXW2t8gvjSz1bbwZly6M-B2d47fbN97RzROyDQakO-6yslVkXeo9M3KM2UCiI9yzk/s1000/DSC_2500.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="667" data-original-width="1000" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0JdSl_ncGx43_tW7pYXLhggY56VKMZ2FwbMlDqrA7oP_Phu4dKOP-xc32BEAnS-4Tqtbk_2w8vz1GL6Gf6L3YYtm7ktDVP9flPUeq2uTrLvzAa51_dXnoHk8rVetXW2t8gvjSz1bbwZly6M-B2d47fbN97RzROyDQakO-6yslVkXeo9M3KM2UCiI9yzk/s320/DSC_2500.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><span lang="EN-CA" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;"><br /></span><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-CA" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;">On June 28<sup>th</sup>
we loaded up Stanley and drove west into Namibia to begin our long drive up the
west coast of Africa. It began well, with a fun time visiting old haunts in
Namibia (Ngepi Camp and Etosha National Park) followed by a month in Angola,
which ended up being our favourite new country of the entire West Coast trip.
We loved the Namib Desert in the southwest, the dramatic escarpments near
Lubango, the stark cliffs of the Atlantic Coast, the central highlands around
Morro de Moco, and the magnificent Calendula Falls. We spent days in Luanda
collecting visas for upcoming countries, and more days waiting for Godot (or
for the ferry to Cabinda, which was much the same thing) in the dismal oil port
of Soyo.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0jQ4N0O5vFqVNwyeEADFYlAQ5P9glUeLQ3Kg9_dz4ULiZYjv7l2G32stSVYzzfTMy8fTvos4tgQIp0gqJgaJS1gwzl5lK2TnqIr4hbznFijN6dyUBzq0SDA4L5dLL1TSJb3Ufv8l1OnC1eShfq2Vu2B8s9RwFIscGWSftu0_QUex2ylmd-k4mA6ro3vo/s1000/DSC_2531.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="667" data-original-width="1000" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0jQ4N0O5vFqVNwyeEADFYlAQ5P9glUeLQ3Kg9_dz4ULiZYjv7l2G32stSVYzzfTMy8fTvos4tgQIp0gqJgaJS1gwzl5lK2TnqIr4hbznFijN6dyUBzq0SDA4L5dLL1TSJb3Ufv8l1OnC1eShfq2Vu2B8s9RwFIscGWSftu0_QUex2ylmd-k4mA6ro3vo/s320/DSC_2531.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjF_8gz4bMMuG2fZjYe_ihb_hYxKWDr9sueooJ0qiGy2JTAcU23TNZOz8cb87R9emjz2q1P7PY97thUBJYNsjoEU4liPIRhqzkhkWZsuopcqUoyWQb_s7qhfxsLe1rrBRVpI-Dh6wghUEf1pT92P2lTnJJkKH0zRd5CW0YOubAZq-5z7C8kJd4LQwQqUx8/s1000/DSC_2614.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; 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text-align: center;"><br /></div><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-CA" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;">When we
finally got to Cabinda, the northern bit of Angola, an oil-producing enclave nestled
north of the mouth of the Congo River next to DRC and the Republic of Congo, it
was time to start moving more quickly. We had been warned to be out of Gabon
before the elections on August 26, and it was already August 5<sup>th</sup>,
with two full countries to go before the deadline. The Republic of Congo was
enjoyable, as we spent a couple of days at the Dimonika Biosphere Reserve and a
couple more at the Lesio-Louna Wildlife Reserve. Lesio-Louna was particularly
memorable as we visited some lowland gorillas being rehabilitated for life in the
wild after years in captivity, either as pets or as zoo inmates. The roads in
the Republic of Congo were also in spectacular shape, with most of the country
being traversed by a four-lane divided highway almost devoid of traffic.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKSIeV6dcBVbHoRQkHaD0pXLcPAm9dQoUBoRuZuvRasRtMCGhaiT0vvIWf52mtn5yL0Hgdc-8YNAbCvLInNep3bVKJUCTYE-NtGH1xeYSA2KgTbNuLzhlnc1zV2TsMhNyNXVCiYuClEA4_AyaeHL-r6jDyzY9zyZmIB9sOAdPyfe8jNqkjzBcUYHLCgkg/s1000/DSC_4003.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="668" data-original-width="1000" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKSIeV6dcBVbHoRQkHaD0pXLcPAm9dQoUBoRuZuvRasRtMCGhaiT0vvIWf52mtn5yL0Hgdc-8YNAbCvLInNep3bVKJUCTYE-NtGH1xeYSA2KgTbNuLzhlnc1zV2TsMhNyNXVCiYuClEA4_AyaeHL-r6jDyzY9zyZmIB9sOAdPyfe8jNqkjzBcUYHLCgkg/s320/DSC_4003.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkJ87vkW93m4kwrP0-1gRO2K_LvVBgvBWDX4VhbK3aW3v9aGaJ7iaGFrBLYdgX1ea2hppYqskK6Sv2Hi5x_OVuM9749NUoTYZe8mU0ydSrUf9hSO9fGWsDxNGuSYTKkaD5hu5PLkkLD76VO6k_0yRV9B94y4a_q0Ox72XRmD-8qibrUlRHcAl33W-s5hI/s1000/DSC_4017.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; 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margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="666" data-original-width="1000" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxT-1TnLRJKGhFJJ1LJKdJkxF4GLDfgD4xvl-quE8x22aSxNuXhmwxoAQtkmD72tGuQZLBRc5f7bU6M-3fO7qgznRN3yinSKTo-DYZsjMFROObumibbU6xuDW7IFeH5ecgr2JQWqKqyNY6fOYH4qhefhyphenhyphenQo4Nx65KXhQr8YJqslyYlhTRXQRgkDV3I9AI/s320/DSC_4317.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><span lang="EN-CA" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;"><br /></span><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-CA" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;">Gabon was a
country of extremes. We started off camping in the spectacular badlands of the Red
Canyon near Lekoni. From there we continued to the wildlife reserve of Lekedi
Park, where we were lucky to see a troop of habituated wild mandrills, an
animal that is very hard to see in the wild, and whose colours make it look
like a cartoon character. From here we drove west towards Lope National Park,
and the travelling became a lot harder.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbmZE6uUsds8sW4DyznBoZ8-4WriDpOJSkvn_JlGJ2BUtB6OsRa7cP3VJ_OCl2HWqTQUwvJbrIWXSIMuOvB38YLydT4NJMZuHUDdnVXxjEKcuNxz3Iay-NkApiLoVQRLGqMNGMoZnsK1tERHlte4TPeA1SZ_4ceq7cbt2ZTisfGEoCIFrS0Ei9e58LUAo/s1000/DSC_4387.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="667" data-original-width="1000" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbmZE6uUsds8sW4DyznBoZ8-4WriDpOJSkvn_JlGJ2BUtB6OsRa7cP3VJ_OCl2HWqTQUwvJbrIWXSIMuOvB38YLydT4NJMZuHUDdnVXxjEKcuNxz3Iay-NkApiLoVQRLGqMNGMoZnsK1tERHlte4TPeA1SZ_4ceq7cbt2ZTisfGEoCIFrS0Ei9e58LUAo/s320/DSC_4387.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgp1gtwxSvNiESCqyDzuts6pXh-04K1DJdFyyzfTPgVMKO9ldmAhlZxiGUQOdKsaQIXqxOCb0gwutM_A8VgzWx3Nnlb1LZtV7pt3JFAb7RdM51tY9F0yrY1wowskmGwiyejuWrSr8hk2uYwUmfjmS9Xi1gLQXnATkTmuk682c5in3fhSDddtWB0T8FF2Ik/s1000/DSC_4389.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; 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text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5jbtX_TYuwSgEs9ZzogPzHW7N8tHFk5I6soBdRYZFjv4kFKPtKSK6hGtFOEjI98Xxe7fiboNl_f-6x6LaQR-2MiY5tlSnF35SfAUvoIQRh3NfTPlYodnAirRu_CkND1DDyj4PvtJrT85c_xXdKeL9VvNmFw5NG3TRymU2lB2XAvCZP626wvK5Mjrm06E/s1000/DSC_4935.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="667" data-original-width="1000" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5jbtX_TYuwSgEs9ZzogPzHW7N8tHFk5I6soBdRYZFjv4kFKPtKSK6hGtFOEjI98Xxe7fiboNl_f-6x6LaQR-2MiY5tlSnF35SfAUvoIQRh3NfTPlYodnAirRu_CkND1DDyj4PvtJrT85c_xXdKeL9VvNmFw5NG3TRymU2lB2XAvCZP626wvK5Mjrm06E/s320/DSC_4935.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><span lang="EN-CA" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;"><br /></span><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-CA" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;">The road
through the centre of Gabon was (and is) in dreadful shape. It’s a dirt track
full of projecting cobbles and boulders that bashed Stanley’s undercarriage
without mercy. Terri drove skillfully, but there was no escaping the relentless
back-and-forth swaying and solid impacts, and Stanley’s entire structure
creaked and groaned. We managed to make 100 hard-won kilometres before camping
in an old road-construction site in the middle of a vast rainforest full of
tiny stingless bees, monkeys and colourful birds. The next day we jolted a
further 100 dreadful kilometres, with the noises coming from the car becoming
steadily more alarming, until, just outside the village of Lope, we heard a
terrible crack and discovered that we had suffered every overlander’s worst
nightmare: a broken chassis. We limped into town, found a welder and had the
crack welded, crossing our fingers that it would hold.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-CA" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;">It didn’t.
After a slightly underwhelming safari the next day through Lope National Park,
we drove off the following morning towards Libreville. We barely made it 30
kilometres before more dramatic sound effects notified us that we had cracked
the other side of the chassis. We settled in at a train station and tried to
summon the welder over the non-existent phone network. We ended up staying there
for three days, with me hitchhiking back and forth to Lope, before we finally
got the car moving again. We were running out of time, so we were relieved when
we made the final 70 bumpy kilometres to the tarmac. After a beautiful campsite
beside the Ogoue River, we set off to the Cameroonian border, making it with a
day to spare.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-CA" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;">Our hurry
to leave Gabon was vindicated when the country sealed its borders for three
days during and after the election, trapping several overlanders within the
country. The borders re-opened for a day before the army staged a coup d’etat
and the borders were re-sealed. When the new military junta opened the borders
again, they promptly arrested the first few groups of overlanders who crossed
into the country, holding them almost incommunicado for over a week. We were glad
to have escaped this fate!<o:p></o:p></span></p>
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mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;"><br /></span><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-CA" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;">In Cameroon
we spent almost a week getting Stanley repaired at Didier’s Garage, a legendary
institution among West Coast overlanders. We got various problems resolved and
met several other groups of overlanders: Cor and Grietje, Bruno (all three were
among those detained in Gabon the following week) and Mark and Benjamin, who
would accompany us through Nigeria, saving us numerous times. We drove out of
Yaounde keen to get to the infamous Banyo-Nguroje “crossing”, the only practicable
route into Nigeria for overlanders, as a low-level civil war further south in Cameroon
has seen the main road closed to foreign tourists, while Boko Haram makes the
far northern route too risky. The drive north was pleasant, if not spectacular,
with the Ekom-Nkam waterfalls and the peaceful Koutaba Monastery the highlights.
The road deteriorated steadily as we approached the town of Banyo, and we rendezvoused
with Benjamin and Mark at a quarry just to the south of town.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-CA" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;">The driving
from this point on became extremely difficult, between ruts, rocky sections, mud
wallows and river crossings. It was easily the longest stretch of hard-core 4x4
driving that we ever did in Stanley, and it was mentally and physically taxing
on Terri, who drove all of it. We were incredibly fortunate to have Benjamin
and Mark travelling with us in their indestructible powerhouse of a Toyota
Landcruiser, the Codiwompler. They had to haul us out of the deep mud several
times with their winch and their tow rope. Stanley’s welded chassis was put
through an extreme test by the rough road and the side-to-side jolting, and it
eventually failed, cracking through at the site of the first fracture just
after crossing into Nigeria. We also had our radiator crack, probably due to a
severe impact at the front, and we had to keep refilling it every few
kilometres. We limped into Nigeria hoping that the worst was behind us, only to
find another 80 incredibly rough kilometres ahead of us. It took us three full
days to get to Nguroje, plus another half-day of driving followed by an
afternoon of welding and repairs. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjR72UIo_FAlsz5neevO8TOdrqMPsEFfVO41T-RdK_WX7tJxiNVkF1kXmPWtrpMWAX3Oks65WJvzGVnnRs36AYTWzzO2YFOYQy1ojtF-Ot4co8k0aOhKAS4En7DySherjnsjbLJlmyAuvURzEhIPJgQHxfS7lnMTGnvoC5vQnqQ82oT3iuOd2bccmGizMs/s1000/DSC_5352.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="667" data-original-width="1000" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjR72UIo_FAlsz5neevO8TOdrqMPsEFfVO41T-RdK_WX7tJxiNVkF1kXmPWtrpMWAX3Oks65WJvzGVnnRs36AYTWzzO2YFOYQy1ojtF-Ot4co8k0aOhKAS4En7DySherjnsjbLJlmyAuvURzEhIPJgQHxfS7lnMTGnvoC5vQnqQ82oT3iuOd2bccmGizMs/s320/DSC_5352.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj60w5wRkumJLUvUqsgroseqX8wrhWTnq62xYtoz8QhCBj43g1tWFXKwe0UbG4nNecGYyDdSaVVE9qTv6M_dUl_Yozr1R1bOre5-9NXsJzzfT5qrmiLY4K-5KeJgd38Ql2TrOFMWwmNcgqRjLIorgGQQ1wd0PpqToXQdsNu_GvTgGL8PhtMTmH9WIxkecw/s1000/DSC_5375.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; 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mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;"><br /></span><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-CA" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;">After this
rough introduction, Nigeria continued to be hard going. Team Codiwompler stuck
through us through thick and thin, including two more radiator repairs and a failed
pair of U-bolts that saw the truck fall right off its rear axle, pulling out the
drive shaft in the process. We braved a notorious kidnapping-prone stretch of
road together, slaloming at speed between potholes and getting waved through
checkpoints so that we could arrive before dark. After the U-bolt incident, we
left a repaired but frail Stanley parked at a friendly local man’s house and
climbed into the Codiwompler to visit the most interesting place we went to in
Nigeria, the Drill Ranch, established as a safe haven for endangered drill
monkeys. It was a spectacular place, but the experience was somewhat diminished
by being chased along the track to the ranch by three drunk hooligans, representatives
of the “Youth Development Council” who demanded large sums of money and who
threatened to slash the Codiwompler’s tires. Benjamin did an exemplary job of talking
our way out of this situation, and we ended up un-robbed with tires un-slashed.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-CA" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;">The rest of
Nigeria, which we drove on our own after our routes diverged, was a grim slog
of mud, closed roads, potholes and endless police checkpoints manned by
larcenous cops. The last day, coming through Lagos, we had an hour-long
standoff with ten Lagos State Police officers who threatened to impound the
car, and then survived some of the most brutal traffic of the trip, followed by
50 checkpoints in 50 kilometres, to finally reach the promised land of Benin,
where we met up again (by chance) with the Codiwompler to camp together on the
beach.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
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margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="667" data-original-width="1000" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCFK3OFGRbZgeGPvCfUM9wExF524XST5EpVYgELqeqbA1ZpX2_BiVj4KNZgoXS4uagURSWXGTbDAVlzBcsxHQS2FiqSWPHkkXURKB64U1M_LZCPPhyphenhyphenoXzG8R6FVnOREaatnTeJJUmng7LkkKxEMTbh8-mExrlKqUDe1qbaWRCUHORWOny3EqNbHILDGEI/s320/DSC_6289.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijoCTkjfMhdBS8q4h8LagF6f6IplrMsI8WvactRODRBnXb4kcV3aAoggMjvsNFFnRJKCrH21jjt9JEOMIQqbukwIinO5it7OetK5He7aKIXA-w2pMYk0YYvBBFVJUsrqrwTa_3sfDSx40Cqg8mR3UPqZt5HuUWg8SNAwM0uwMmJKVqHAJFxDDNt00hD8c/s1000/DSC_6293.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1000" data-original-width="667" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijoCTkjfMhdBS8q4h8LagF6f6IplrMsI8WvactRODRBnXb4kcV3aAoggMjvsNFFnRJKCrH21jjt9JEOMIQqbukwIinO5it7OetK5He7aKIXA-w2pMYk0YYvBBFVJUsrqrwTa_3sfDSx40Cqg8mR3UPqZt5HuUWg8SNAwM0uwMmJKVqHAJFxDDNt00hD8c/s320/DSC_6293.jpg" width="213" /></a></div><br /><span lang="EN-CA" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;"><br /></span><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-CA" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;">Benin and
Togo were oases of civilization after Nigeria, and we spent some time getting
visas for Ghana and visiting sites sacred to vodun (aka “voodoo”). It was
culturally interesting, but a bit grim to contemplate the vast numbers of
animals, some rare and protected, whose dried cadavers were for sale in the vodun
marketplaces. We had another series of breakdowns, including rebuilding our
main drive shaft, throughout Benin and Togo, before limping into Ghana.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
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text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><span lang="EN-CA" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;"><br /></span><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-CA" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;">Ghana was
the last country where we really had some fun. We camped on the beach in the
east, nearly getting swept away in the middle of the night by a rampaging king
tide. We stayed with my childhood friend from Morogoro, Alex, and his wife,
reconnecting after not having seen each other for 41 years. We flew out to Sao
Tome for a week of rest and relaxation, birdwatching and hiking, before returning
to Stanley. We were seriously considering shipping him back to South Africa
from Accra, but after some overpriced car repairs, we decided to limp onwards
as far as we could, returning to Ghana only if necessary. An enjoyable couple
of days of visiting slave castles along the coast and birdwatching at Kakum
National Park was followed by our clutch failing and another three days of
stressful repairs, this time on the surfing mecca of Busua Beach.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzMSOCdiNG_s-UuT2lPFgHKk4Xi7RmaISB75h3J5fsBjxc6z-6vgDL_DXYdTBggCc6JZfuLzXIG3RZj9l9yVMJ8Z0dGSXm24kYx4SUg7CZzADGWlxETwxKdQphPvlPag2hgicB6L8ay7GRzu08n2hKu9E6mdLBSUn7u9mbd03hx7VtXubVybAFnhnuZQM/s1000/DSC_6557.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="667" data-original-width="1000" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzMSOCdiNG_s-UuT2lPFgHKk4Xi7RmaISB75h3J5fsBjxc6z-6vgDL_DXYdTBggCc6JZfuLzXIG3RZj9l9yVMJ8Z0dGSXm24kYx4SUg7CZzADGWlxETwxKdQphPvlPag2hgicB6L8ay7GRzu08n2hKu9E6mdLBSUn7u9mbd03hx7VtXubVybAFnhnuZQM/s320/DSC_6557.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjR_mgRAYW-vDCM8_B_ROibtVAVue1oK9xO9stoqLsCUEZ2TRwmyBVPECq-iOUGFDvRN89n5E_NANFOEfZE-EEu2iJ5CXa7Fe7vlm_LGp3B93OwBPqRPvXYafyBKzxo5Wm2OjGpZQs7Kk2rtHik-we6uOr6AxS6V4wugMfyq3GhgrBRJafkHskFJP2Ucss/s1000/DSC_6611.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1000" data-original-width="667" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjR_mgRAYW-vDCM8_B_ROibtVAVue1oK9xO9stoqLsCUEZ2TRwmyBVPECq-iOUGFDvRN89n5E_NANFOEfZE-EEu2iJ5CXa7Fe7vlm_LGp3B93OwBPqRPvXYafyBKzxo5Wm2OjGpZQs7Kk2rtHik-we6uOr6AxS6V4wugMfyq3GhgrBRJafkHskFJP2Ucss/s320/DSC_6611.jpg" width="213" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNCtSVB8G680T-75Lc9Gcswb4Y64prqIr2kCHdiqUlaq9LMVS9lEbCOBeq4ceTwjiv5cXxorv2P_-f2-ttLyq8hXBnkFLXOB3XSAq5NZEVElZnPBPrjwZ2x9o6dlMRVAUO6mTIloEQxF_vEQeGW138onZuCoF8Bb99yS9pkCMjhedsT-3wb2iDSgioImY/s1000/DSC_6619.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="667" data-original-width="1000" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNCtSVB8G680T-75Lc9Gcswb4Y64prqIr2kCHdiqUlaq9LMVS9lEbCOBeq4ceTwjiv5cXxorv2P_-f2-ttLyq8hXBnkFLXOB3XSAq5NZEVElZnPBPrjwZ2x9o6dlMRVAUO6mTIloEQxF_vEQeGW138onZuCoF8Bb99yS9pkCMjhedsT-3wb2iDSgioImY/s320/DSC_6619.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9c5GqHS7tx7Uz-MYqWIDxRDZTbWaXseP2_MBD3hY_Pku_LFIB6wKEVNI9ZlMyG6U1Dffd8NYh1rF0bcq1YEQ-tIa_FtYGjjnQBdwLUiLEkEjAmpMiDNvVYe5IVzcEUjxKm4kOadOxoJIT5KE1v-NUZxxVg9Ga4VkSQalMZ_F0ASs_eIKtw9UG-cc3b1U/s1000/DSC_6647.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1000" data-original-width="667" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9c5GqHS7tx7Uz-MYqWIDxRDZTbWaXseP2_MBD3hY_Pku_LFIB6wKEVNI9ZlMyG6U1Dffd8NYh1rF0bcq1YEQ-tIa_FtYGjjnQBdwLUiLEkEjAmpMiDNvVYe5IVzcEUjxKm4kOadOxoJIT5KE1v-NUZxxVg9Ga4VkSQalMZ_F0ASs_eIKtw9UG-cc3b1U/s320/DSC_6647.jpg" width="213" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiead0kky2J03qPhG7z6HjNwebt6ZekartWTJK5zQSN96zGhEXn7LnpjLeG3H6RnPhRTNeIJqYYH7JXzXoog2BClvYZAPjKkczoDhhV3NYkp_tNqGdYxvaUjKNEr-DIsLXIM_GMSBBbSUxPzc1rqGTZpbwC9uzXlWm-iUO3KUUAX9m9CJjOALzosw7g0qA/s1000/DSC_6671.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1000" data-original-width="667" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiead0kky2J03qPhG7z6HjNwebt6ZekartWTJK5zQSN96zGhEXn7LnpjLeG3H6RnPhRTNeIJqYYH7JXzXoog2BClvYZAPjKkczoDhhV3NYkp_tNqGdYxvaUjKNEr-DIsLXIM_GMSBBbSUxPzc1rqGTZpbwC9uzXlWm-iUO3KUUAX9m9CJjOALzosw7g0qA/s320/DSC_6671.jpg" width="213" /></a></div><br /><span lang="EN-CA" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;"><br /></span><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-CA" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;">We drove
off from Busua with a rebuilt clutch and a determination not to deviate too far
off the direct road to Morocco. Ivory Coast was a blur of good roads, the
amazing and extravagant Yamoussoukro Cathedral and a panic about no diesel in the
border town of Danane. From there we entered the last long stretch of bad
roads, across the length of Guinea. We had five days on our visa, and we made
it by the skin of our teeth, late on the afternoon of the fifth day, after some
grim driving and dodging around trucks mired in mud. It would have been nice to
stop and see more, but the clock was ticking and the roads were dismal.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9YOgOSK0ln8A2_FTgacJBnMsw24bb9bEWrwsPmfF-WEZHkA6rGn5fEj-1GnCez5vTS-el7MhGm5AySxhSAYoYkj7U4mb5g0gc2-imQtPQCY7M-vIPMgGVwWxpLYBAjSY26hCUjdgkGVUomkrOnKF3ve8NF8PNpGEnfkZ65CG0U2MXtXOUwVkpKINGrBY/s1000/DSC_7152.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1000" data-original-width="667" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9YOgOSK0ln8A2_FTgacJBnMsw24bb9bEWrwsPmfF-WEZHkA6rGn5fEj-1GnCez5vTS-el7MhGm5AySxhSAYoYkj7U4mb5g0gc2-imQtPQCY7M-vIPMgGVwWxpLYBAjSY26hCUjdgkGVUomkrOnKF3ve8NF8PNpGEnfkZ65CG0U2MXtXOUwVkpKINGrBY/s320/DSC_7152.jpg" width="213" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFA0wQNb12SS-TvXLuYfoW6LuLdGGtMoW6BqgujR7RBTVUYfzVPretW-gAQI19chEnLeCKxLSYgOCgGBkZpYuiVNiQsXjcVUzQg3BTLE-T-G_NJKGOf_S1vNHnbKTz9P6thyQPlLi75uIUXrSxoMeEWjFo1XCyStU5ErKwktfDaDKlVr6E0lEg3fHrr5g/s1000/DSC_7163.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="667" data-original-width="1000" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFA0wQNb12SS-TvXLuYfoW6LuLdGGtMoW6BqgujR7RBTVUYfzVPretW-gAQI19chEnLeCKxLSYgOCgGBkZpYuiVNiQsXjcVUzQg3BTLE-T-G_NJKGOf_S1vNHnbKTz9P6thyQPlLi75uIUXrSxoMeEWjFo1XCyStU5ErKwktfDaDKlVr6E0lEg3fHrr5g/s320/DSC_7163.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0Qz-M9VIu4XsevLkR-vpvKzSYswGKlEGChQcHkzeJ7vLst7xEOABQPoHxK0Qh31iaNljRMnEAxptxrnqzcevGsJEr5OQvhYAocRymFxIELlHzBV0CFL_muEifOck_A7Jh1Nx2WHhOCD5_11Lbp8C_EqVbJE7dkTSCv7fDL7JQTZi5P9QrOHVTjOCWzqA/s1000/DSC_7191.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="667" data-original-width="1000" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0Qz-M9VIu4XsevLkR-vpvKzSYswGKlEGChQcHkzeJ7vLst7xEOABQPoHxK0Qh31iaNljRMnEAxptxrnqzcevGsJEr5OQvhYAocRymFxIELlHzBV0CFL_muEifOck_A7Jh1Nx2WHhOCD5_11Lbp8C_EqVbJE7dkTSCv7fDL7JQTZi5P9QrOHVTjOCWzqA/s320/DSC_7191.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgj86uflvYkulRHbEbzRY4QAn9yVLCsIFMUtGhh1kzuuwUCrAkEJzaX32oS6HniFL7Y2tiXVO6BqwmpOPUthvUGWP8df6aZ7B_nhHf5U3p7ESuzxkQhszwUlAvrthvlYDvdZLY-qscJPjfcvViHuWH4KXGMJGZN4u40i9ue8B6_GMQXcfpHVMnkMBUtw3A/s1000/DSC_7207.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="667" data-original-width="1000" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgj86uflvYkulRHbEbzRY4QAn9yVLCsIFMUtGhh1kzuuwUCrAkEJzaX32oS6HniFL7Y2tiXVO6BqwmpOPUthvUGWP8df6aZ7B_nhHf5U3p7ESuzxkQhszwUlAvrthvlYDvdZLY-qscJPjfcvViHuWH4KXGMJGZN4u40i9ue8B6_GMQXcfpHVMnkMBUtw3A/s320/DSC_7207.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuW2aOITpUuC5SPQTUW6RFO6548cUJGP6U2jDILdbFfXG70oc6pu8rm61y76Cj59iBjHEAEMUHnwrJVN3C8BSbf4PA4EIb5jffIQwTF8w17sMGPe_9BC3J_2I6TKG-s7vD2Vv8ThVlgys_60UylrtwSA-oOKv7AoOFLZxjZ-YR7g04DwjYLuCb3m-MFL4/s1000/DSC_7227.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="667" data-original-width="1000" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuW2aOITpUuC5SPQTUW6RFO6548cUJGP6U2jDILdbFfXG70oc6pu8rm61y76Cj59iBjHEAEMUHnwrJVN3C8BSbf4PA4EIb5jffIQwTF8w17sMGPe_9BC3J_2I6TKG-s7vD2Vv8ThVlgys_60UylrtwSA-oOKv7AoOFLZxjZ-YR7g04DwjYLuCb3m-MFL4/s320/DSC_7227.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhN-3xtvX4yYgfhf2b31AwM-Cxj7SGSmgyVXUApU2er9fn81wVRigg8rTYOSyzKI9dpNvpZCzk2qvz8E9cxaCuLPtjZZJWT_cu0wwa_qe1KlwrwEHQelfWVe6d6STxPOzWF769neJOFH7G7qn9Cjk_pOWyhlCMPwL5Bh-u7wUxfyYKqveQoZBr8hD8C2Ug/s1000/DSC_7240.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="667" data-original-width="1000" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhN-3xtvX4yYgfhf2b31AwM-Cxj7SGSmgyVXUApU2er9fn81wVRigg8rTYOSyzKI9dpNvpZCzk2qvz8E9cxaCuLPtjZZJWT_cu0wwa_qe1KlwrwEHQelfWVe6d6STxPOzWF769neJOFH7G7qn9Cjk_pOWyhlCMPwL5Bh-u7wUxfyYKqveQoZBr8hD8C2Ug/s320/DSC_7240.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicQ-hxrW8PyvIWEuc_vpI4cql3tyNicUU76hsMd4FJwMZAGG8P-4gbyipdL3VrvRp4EsWRIKiL1wJ1Or2JQ_FGhyphenhyphen_TbcovFXZMbwbFuH_vib9WmxEizxHyIj4H5LTcIiaeAS8ENWwlAXPj8ZodW5BEfMpVCxTUKj1HrfCdpzKyLAoAqPPq6nNA4VCOrrI/s1000/DSC_7272.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="667" data-original-width="1000" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicQ-hxrW8PyvIWEuc_vpI4cql3tyNicUU76hsMd4FJwMZAGG8P-4gbyipdL3VrvRp4EsWRIKiL1wJ1Or2JQ_FGhyphenhyphen_TbcovFXZMbwbFuH_vib9WmxEizxHyIj4H5LTcIiaeAS8ENWwlAXPj8ZodW5BEfMpVCxTUKj1HrfCdpzKyLAoAqPPq6nNA4VCOrrI/s320/DSC_7272.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgY3-HRTjN-C0ckSqs3YP0_N9jpWKkTfmfLHr1sSojkQfE1tWxGkxjp3IGCOvpX_XWoElSi-wM2EIjwIs80oL16NLm1CbbELgy7CWHqkausQ-KkTOM928ap62_bUfdTi8PktSqpUDd5tFRJYJGK1Sjlu4AhMWMYC2LTHhokZawMPgemdqgaTKDRkoznPjM/s1000/DSC_7292.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="667" data-original-width="1000" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgY3-HRTjN-C0ckSqs3YP0_N9jpWKkTfmfLHr1sSojkQfE1tWxGkxjp3IGCOvpX_XWoElSi-wM2EIjwIs80oL16NLm1CbbELgy7CWHqkausQ-KkTOM928ap62_bUfdTi8PktSqpUDd5tFRJYJGK1Sjlu4AhMWMYC2LTHhokZawMPgemdqgaTKDRkoznPjM/s320/DSC_7292.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCjus-jhEVF1IXiYch9Z5idOCs0GzBA9tauQwrxHgnt1sEr-VY7pDF3ENF35nys5Rke_Wz3pwthZ6bVkKSIQ9KSG0C1RfQe2-eLByAZctKeiEz2KR4CrINvNiVWtjh2M3_axXHTN1oxP00_CZG-TtFivQXItYVPRXhsP5NuJAnJAvN2HmOz-81JHMDTw4/s1000/DSC_7295.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="667" data-original-width="1000" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCjus-jhEVF1IXiYch9Z5idOCs0GzBA9tauQwrxHgnt1sEr-VY7pDF3ENF35nys5Rke_Wz3pwthZ6bVkKSIQ9KSG0C1RfQe2-eLByAZctKeiEz2KR4CrINvNiVWtjh2M3_axXHTN1oxP00_CZG-TtFivQXItYVPRXhsP5NuJAnJAvN2HmOz-81JHMDTw4/s320/DSC_7295.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><span lang="EN-CA" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;"><br /></span><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-CA" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;">Once we
were in Senegal, we were more confident that we would likely make it to Europe.
We left the car for a couple of days of an ill-advised side-trip into Guinea-Bissau,
then returned to enter the tiny riverine strip that is Gambia. Here we
encountered more tourists in an hour than we had in four months since leaving Namibia;
Gambia is a package-holiday destination with charter flights direct from
numerous European cities. A further sprint across Senegal and we were in Mauritania,
where we would have loved to explore the Sahara if we had had a reliable car.
As it was, we headed to the capital Nouakchott, where Terri came down with both
amoebic dysentery and falciparum malaria, spending three full days in hospital.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-fFSSdNk-fNsW7lTw66K0sYvEWEWY4kdzRkKqkzW7MdNzF7RoKseAEkTgxYbEacjUnpELUqBunFPj3Jfy573ySYtt1EaDNcmgNDgjNExWtqSTuH0YQmJSMVkEpPki-7udn8Rq3QKnt2UX6tmROX05wxETmQ_E1YSCcOgvMcyfm5c-8QqWtajbdK8avas/s1000/DSC_7339.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="667" data-original-width="1000" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-fFSSdNk-fNsW7lTw66K0sYvEWEWY4kdzRkKqkzW7MdNzF7RoKseAEkTgxYbEacjUnpELUqBunFPj3Jfy573ySYtt1EaDNcmgNDgjNExWtqSTuH0YQmJSMVkEpPki-7udn8Rq3QKnt2UX6tmROX05wxETmQ_E1YSCcOgvMcyfm5c-8QqWtajbdK8avas/s320/DSC_7339.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUGtdOHw1UE4pUp8Ha2SS60ktgY4VP9I-0BUADujzaPpUlZiGRNyDj9-6HEniJNeU7nMySLZOX7xdZTprQ6roegiZ0p4ND1uePdCWq8R9CDEkTicttFwfjDXECm8D6ba8Ct9iprOg1qeCLz1jAHBBY_VroLyz6HXc5XXBqiCDwDlLryShVWampfCLrEoc/s1000/DSC_7372.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; 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text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhA6ZevnlZF572N2Lw5bY3oCQOpkIJNYHJnEHVsijjAQn5LCNMuhbAy6QcDkfCXXTztVKKT0l050aU4C1G36Ci77xMk2g9d3ycTZznsLEszbEt36G75fer3R-uiSh-szkkiee40egWP9hdyANArsuoxxafM5GatVWeR16QbKCxUEXCOFWdB8q95Q1PONW8/s1000/DSC_7416.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="667" data-original-width="1000" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhA6ZevnlZF572N2Lw5bY3oCQOpkIJNYHJnEHVsijjAQn5LCNMuhbAy6QcDkfCXXTztVKKT0l050aU4C1G36Ci77xMk2g9d3ycTZznsLEszbEt36G75fer3R-uiSh-szkkiee40egWP9hdyANArsuoxxafM5GatVWeR16QbKCxUEXCOFWdB8q95Q1PONW8/s320/DSC_7416.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><span lang="EN-CA" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;"><br /></span><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-CA" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;">From there
it was a final long grind, along paved roads, through northern Mauritania, Western
Sahara (illegally occupied by Morocco) and Morocco proper to the ferry at
Tanger. Two days on the ferry to Barcelona, two days of chilly, windy driving
to Leysin, two more to Rotterdam, and Stanley was safely delivered to a container
to be shipped back to South Africa. Just like that, after 21,000 kilometres,
the final leg of Stanley’s Travels was over. I visited with family in the Netherlands
and friends in Germany and then retreated to Leysin to relax and do some
planning and administrative tasks, as well as to attend a big fund-raising
event put on by Regina and Stacey, two of OTLC’s biggest fundraisers without
whom the school would struggle to survive.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitxljbFJZpg8bfZsonUfNMQI6k2ycqHFxK8qIL6MwyRZg-_s6n66Wcu6n64nPKKejNiu1pfUl5mgPPK2qLzNDcYdIeC1UeY445J4LhR6Q2AV0ezibOhj2JamMYBPTuMShHkAj0bQaRtv4kOrRif4ZYV-etgSVAvayEzhVdrR8U2-y7UkeyqeoglR6jy6Q/s1000/DSC_7500.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="667" data-original-width="1000" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitxljbFJZpg8bfZsonUfNMQI6k2ycqHFxK8qIL6MwyRZg-_s6n66Wcu6n64nPKKejNiu1pfUl5mgPPK2qLzNDcYdIeC1UeY445J4LhR6Q2AV0ezibOhj2JamMYBPTuMShHkAj0bQaRtv4kOrRif4ZYV-etgSVAvayEzhVdrR8U2-y7UkeyqeoglR6jy6Q/s320/DSC_7500.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtx1-ILNy1mWhB3qKgqNaymfcYhcmKg7M4kcPyb-b-Jnkf-GzIOe5hIOkzS-vZv3rFYmE-IoA9wIx-RT3b0rjbaxeNLyrGZS3x6fhgxi8SaFl-7X3ig9Pl80Ne3JR_OancMIsVqBF_HafqWeVQ3VQOy9PY-6wcv6CZeDvyzUsEJ8Qff-JA1XaRAEN24Io/s1000/DSC_7518.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; 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<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-CA" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;">This past
year, with months and months of hard travel, interspersed with grief and
emotional upheaval, was by turns exhilarating, saddening and exhausting. I am
hoping for a slightly less demanding 2024! The plan is for me to work from
January to June at my old school in Tbilisi, filling in for a mid-year opening.
Then: who knows? There will be travel involved: stay tuned! <a href="https://graydonstravels.blogspot.com/2023/12/by-numbers-updated-december-2023.html" target="_blank">This year’s odyssey brings my lifetime country count up to 149 countries visited</a>, so I’m starting
to get up towards the goal of 203 countries or semi-countries, but with a lot
of harder destinations still left. I was sad to have to skip a number of
countries along our route (Equatorial Guinea, Sierra Leone, Liberia and the
whole Sahel belt) because of visa and/or security issues; I felt I was leaving
a job unfinished.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-CA" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;">I hope that
this update finds you all well, happy and enjoying the holiday season. May 2024
live up to all your hopes and plans! Peace and Tailwinds.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><a href="https://www.polarsteps.com/GraydonHazenberg/5858926-stanley-s-travels-2022" target="_blank">Click here for a map of our East Africa trip.</a></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><a href="https://www.polarsteps.com/GraydonHazenberg/7763946-stanley-s-travels-the-west-coast-adventure" target="_blank">Click here for a map of our West Africa trip.</a></p>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-635211973012255844.post-79797822843127239362023-12-22T05:52:00.000-08:002023-12-22T05:52:34.366-08:00By The Numbers (Updated December 2023)<p> With all the travelling I've done recently to new countries, it's time to bring my life-list of countries visited up-to-date.</p><div dir="ltr" trbidi="on">Here's a list of the countries I've visited over the course of my life, arranged by the date of my first visit to the country. I don't count my home country, Canada. <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 20.8px;"> </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 20.8px;">Of course, exactly what constitutes a country is a bit slippery.</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 20.8px;"> </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 20.8px;"> </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 20.8px;">My well-travelled friend</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 20.8px;"> </span><a href="http://natalyamarquand.blogspot.com/" style="color: purple; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 20.8px;">Natalya Marquand</a><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 20.8px;"> </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 20.8px;">holds (or rather used to hold) that the only objective list is the 193 permanent members of the UN.</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 20.8px;"> </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 20.8px;"> </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 20.8px;">Others maintain that these countries, plus the non-UN-member Vatican City, make up the 194 canonical countries of the world.</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 20.8px;"> </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 20.8px;"> </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 20.8px;">I think the reality is a bit slippier.</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 20.8px;"> </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 20.8px;"> </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 20.8px;">When I visited</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 20.8px;"> </span><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Nagorno-Karabakh_Republic" style="color: purple; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 20.8px;">Nagorno-Karabakh</a><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 20.8px;"> </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 20.8px;">and</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 20.8px;"> </span><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Abkhazia" style="color: purple; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 20.8px;">Abkhazia</a><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 20.8px;">, despite the fact that these countries aren’t universally recognized, I had to get a visa to visit them and cross at a border post manned by people in uniform who stamped my passport.</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 20.8px;"> </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 20.8px;"> </span><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Somaliland" style="color: purple; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 20.8px;">Somaliland</a><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 20.8px;"> </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 20.8px;">not only has its own consulates and border guards, it even has its own currency.</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 20.8px;"> </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 20.8px;"> </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 20.8px;">And, to take an extreme example, anyone who claims that</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 20.8px;"> </span><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Taiwan" style="color: purple; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 20.8px;">Taiwan</a><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 20.8px;"> </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 20.8px;">isn’t effectively an independent country isn’t really recognizing what’s been de facto the case since 1949. (People's Republic of China, I can't hear what you're saying!)</span></span><br /><div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 20.8px; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 20.8px; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">So my list of independent countries is a bit bigger than 194. It’s about 204 countries; the number may fluctuate a bit, and it doesn’t include two countries (Palestine and Tibet) with pretty legitimate cases but without their own border guards. I have made an exception for Western Sahara, just to annoy the Moroccan authorities and their horrible border guards. <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Countries_of_the_world" style="color: purple;">One of the many lists of countries on Wikipedia</a> lists 206 entries that either are recognized by at least one other state as being independent, or effectively control a permanently populated territory, but they include Western Sahara and Palestine which are at the moment illusory pipe dreams, to the distress of the people who inhabit them. If I'm not counting Canada, that would make 203 possible destinations on my list (or else 193 on the UN+Vatican list).</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 20.8px; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 20.8px; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Anyway, without further preamble, here’s my list of the countries I have visited, arranged according to the date I first visited them. The non-UN/Vatican members of the list are coloured <span style="color: red;">red</span>; there are eight of them, so if you’re counting by the UN+Vatican list, it’s 125 (out of 193). I would make it 133 out of 203. Whichever way you count it, I’m now well over half-way to my goal of visiting them all, and my to-visit list is now down into double digits. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 20.8px; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div><div class="MsoNormal">1969</div><div class="MsoNormal">1. US</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal">1977</div><div class="MsoNormal">2.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>France</div><div class="MsoNormal">3.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Switzerland</div><div class="MsoNormal">4.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Liechtenstein</div><div class="MsoNormal">5.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Germany</div><div class="MsoNormal">6.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Netherlands</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal">1981</div><div class="MsoNormal">7.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Tanzania</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal">1982</div><div class="MsoNormal">8.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Norway</div><div class="MsoNormal">9.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Italy</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal">1988</div><div class="MsoNormal">10.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>UK</div><div class="MsoNormal">11. Vatican</div><div class="MsoNormal">12.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Greece</div><div class="MsoNormal">13.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Hungary</div><div class="MsoNormal">14.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Austria</div><div class="MsoNormal">15.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Czech Republic (Prague, then part of the now-defunct Czechoslovakia)</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal">1990</div><div class="MsoNormal">16.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Belgium</div><div class="MsoNormal">17.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Monaco</div><div class="MsoNormal">18.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Poland</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal">1991</div><div class="MsoNormal">19.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Australia</div><div class="MsoNormal">20.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>New Zealand</div><div class="MsoNormal">21.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Fiji</div><div class="MsoNormal">22.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="color: red;">Cook Islands</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal">1994</div><div class="MsoNormal">23.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Egypt</div><div class="MsoNormal">24.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Turkey</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal">1995</div><div class="MsoNormal">25.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Spain</div><div class="MsoNormal">26.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Kenya</div><div class="MsoNormal">27.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Uganda</div><div class="MsoNormal">28.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Democratic Republic of Congo</div><div class="MsoNormal">29.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Japan</div><div class="MsoNormal">30.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Singapore</div><div class="MsoNormal">31.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Indonesia</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal">1996</div><div class="MsoNormal">32.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Philippines</div><div class="MsoNormal">33.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Malaysia</div><div class="MsoNormal">34.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Thailand</div><div class="MsoNormal">35.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Cambodia</div><div class="MsoNormal">36.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Nepal</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal">1997</div><div class="MsoNormal">37.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>India</div><div class="MsoNormal">38.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Sri Lanka</div><div class="MsoNormal">39.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Pakistan</div><div class="MsoNormal">40.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Luxembourg</div><div class="MsoNormal">41.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>San Marino</div><div class="MsoNormal">42.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Andorra</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal">1998</div><div class="MsoNormal">43.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>China</div><div class="MsoNormal">44.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Portugal</div><div class="MsoNormal">45.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Morocco</div><div class="MsoNormal">46.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Tunisia</div><div class="MsoNormal">47.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Jordan</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal">1999</div><div class="MsoNormal">48.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Israel</div><div class="MsoNormal">49.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Syria</div><div class="MsoNormal">50.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Lebanon</div><div class="MsoNormal">51.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Chile</div><div class="MsoNormal">52.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Argentina</div><div class="MsoNormal">53.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Peru</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal">2000</div><div class="MsoNormal">54.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Bolivia</div><div class="MsoNormal">55.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>South Korea</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal">2001</div><div class="MsoNormal">56.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Mexico</div><div class="MsoNormal">57.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Brunei</div><div class="MsoNormal">58.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Laos</div><div class="MsoNormal">59.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="color: red;">Taiwan</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal">2004</div><div class="MsoNormal">60.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Kazakhstan</div><div class="MsoNormal">61.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Kyrgyzstan</div><div class="MsoNormal">62.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Tajikistan</div><div class="MsoNormal">63.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Uzbekistan</div><div class="MsoNormal">64.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Turkmenistan</div><div class="MsoNormal">65.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Iran</div><div class="MsoNormal">66.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Bahrain</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal">2006</div><div class="MsoNormal">67.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Vietnam</div><div class="MsoNormal">68.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Burma</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal">2007</div><div class="MsoNormal">69.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Mongolia</div><div class="MsoNormal">70.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Palau</div><div class="MsoNormal">71.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Bangladesh</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal">2008</div><div class="MsoNormal">72. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Bhutan</div><div class="MsoNormal">73.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Cyprus</div><div class="MsoNormal">74.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="color: red;">Northern Cyprus</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal">2009</div><div class="MsoNormal">75.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Kuwait</div><div class="MsoNormal">76.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Azerbaijan</div><div class="MsoNormal">77.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Georgia</div><div class="MsoNormal">78.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Armenia</div><div class="MsoNormal">79.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="color: red;">Nagorno-Karabakh</span></div><div class="MsoNormal">80.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Iraq</div><div class="MsoNormal">81.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Bulgaria</div><div class="MsoNormal">82.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Serbia</div><div class="MsoNormal">83.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="color: red;">Kosovo</span></div><div class="MsoNormal">84.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Macedonia</div><div class="MsoNormal">85.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Albania</div><div class="MsoNormal">86.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Montenegro</div><div class="MsoNormal">87.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Bosnia-Hercegovina</div><div class="MsoNormal">88.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Croatia</div><div class="MsoNormal">89.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Libya</div><div class="MsoNormal">90.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Malta</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal">2010</div><div class="MsoNormal">91.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Ethiopia</div><div class="MsoNormal">92. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="color: red;">Somaliland</span></div><div class="MsoNormal">93.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Djibouti</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal">2011</div><div class="MsoNormal">94.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Denmark</div><div class="MsoNormal">95.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="color: red;">Abkhazia</span></div><div class="MsoNormal">96.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Russia</div><div class="MsoNormal">97.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Ukraine</div><div class="MsoNormal">98.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="color: red;">Trans-Dniestria</span></div><div class="MsoNormal">99.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Moldova</div><div class="MsoNormal">100. Romania</div><div class="MsoNormal">101.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Slovakia</div><div class="MsoNormal">102.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Belarus</div><div class="MsoNormal">103.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Lithuania</div><div class="MsoNormal">104.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Latvia</div><div class="MsoNormal">105.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Estonia</div><div class="MsoNormal">106.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>United Arab Emirates</div><div class="MsoNormal">107.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Oman</div><div class="MsoNormal">108.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Qatar</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal">2012</div><div class="MsoNormal">109.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Slovenia</div><div class="MsoNormal">110.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Togo</div><div class="MsoNormal">111.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Benin</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal">2013<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "times new roman";"><div style="margin: 0px;">112.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Maldives</div><div style="margin: 0px;">113, Iceland</div><div style="margin: 0px;">114. Ireland</div><div style="margin: 0px;"><br /></div><div style="margin: 0px;">2014</div><div style="margin: 0px;">115. East Timor</div><div style="margin: 0px;">116. Solomon Islands</div><div style="margin: 0px;">117. Papua New Guinea</div><div style="margin: 0px;"><br /></div><div style="margin: 0px;">2015</div><div style="margin: 0px;">118. Finland</div><div style="margin: 0px;">119. Sweden<br /><br />2016<br />120. Paraguay<br />121. Brazil<br />122. Uruguay<br />123. Zambia<br />124. Botswana<br />125. South Africa<br />126. Mozambique<br />127. Zimbabwe<br />128. Malawi<br />129. Madagascar</div><div style="margin: 0px;">130. Swaziland</div><div style="margin: 0px;"><br /></div><div style="margin: 0px;">2017</div><div style="margin: 0px;">131. Lesotho</div><div style="margin: 0px;">132. Namibia </div><div style="margin: 0px;"><br /></div><div style="margin: 0px;">2019</div><div style="margin: 0px;">133. Panama</div><div style="margin: 0px;"><br /></div><div style="margin: 0px;">2022</div><div style="margin: 0px;">134. Burundi</div><div style="margin: 0px;">135. Rwanda</div><div style="margin: 0px;"><br /></div><div style="margin: 0px;">2023</div><div style="margin: 0px;">136. Angola</div><div style="margin: 0px;">137. Republic of Congo (Congo-Brazzaville)</div><div style="margin: 0px;">138. Gabon</div><div style="margin: 0px;">139. Cameroon</div><div style="margin: 0px;">140. Nigeria</div><div style="margin: 0px;">141. Ghana</div><div style="margin: 0px;">142. Sao Tome & Principe</div><div style="margin: 0px;">143. Cote d'Ivoire</div><div style="margin: 0px;">144. Guinea</div><div style="margin: 0px;">145. Senegal</div><div style="margin: 0px;">146. Guinea-Bissau</div><div style="margin: 0px;">147. Gambia</div><div style="margin: 0px;">148. Mauritania</div><div style="margin: 0px;">149. Western Sahara</div><div style="margin: 0px;"><br /></div><div style="margin: 0px;">(Note: I ordinarily wouldn't count Western Sahara, since it doesn't effectively control its own territory, but the Moroccans annoyed me so much with their petty imperialist Orwellian nonsense that I made an exception.)</div></div></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-635211973012255844.post-33836527864112876172023-04-23T01:16:00.002-07:002023-04-23T02:09:34.209-07:00Five Days in Rwanda (Retrospective from December, 2022)<iframe height="480" src="https://www.google.com/maps/d/u/0/embed?mid=136JF5-xHckIQxQNgrKYzY4BVxMbXc5s&ehbc=2E312F" width="640"></iframe><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br />Our time in Rwanda was brief, even for a country as small as this one. We were in a bit of a hurry to get to Uganda before Christmas, and we knew that many of the sights to be seen in Rwanda could be seen in Uganda more easily and more inexpensively, so we ended up skimming through the country a bit more rapidly than would perhaps be advisable.<div><br /></div><div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPa28LYN-dwphrDKH1dOz57tjtjPN0IhwsZr25kio0EnvI0zntSePb2jl9mzSe48nNgOx6m_xGkkghRllNaTJPbwo6ZYeAB7PgR9UQ3AdWtKulM_SH74xRJLFnA2ebiPhY0_G2dKnpXQDyjb0hssT2h_5IOmDSfm-xbAuHFW8EDCctMms3NsEd2oal/s2000/DSC_8251.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1333" data-original-width="2000" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPa28LYN-dwphrDKH1dOz57tjtjPN0IhwsZr25kio0EnvI0zntSePb2jl9mzSe48nNgOx6m_xGkkghRllNaTJPbwo6ZYeAB7PgR9UQ3AdWtKulM_SH74xRJLFnA2ebiPhY0_G2dKnpXQDyjb0hssT2h_5IOmDSfm-xbAuHFW8EDCctMms3NsEd2oal/w400-h266/DSC_8251.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The endless green hills of Rwanda<br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><p></p><p style="text-align: justify;">We crossed into Rwanda from Burundi on December 13th. The border was chaotic on the Burundian side, with dozens of would-be fixers, currency exchange guys and carwashers running around, shouting and generally being obnoxious. We exchanged our leftover Burundian francs quickly and then drove to the relative calm of the customs enclosure. It took next to no time to get ourselves and Stanley stamped out of Burundi, but entering Rwanda was a much more leisurely affair, with the customs officials declaring that they wanted to see everything that was packed inside Stanley. When they saw how full the camper was, they compromised on a ten-minute inspection before they got bored. We bought an <a href="https://irembo.gov.rw/rolportal/web/dgie/east-africa-tourist-visa" target="_blank">East African Visa</a> for US$ 100 each, giving us three months in Rwanda, Uganda and Kenya, and it took longer than it might have for the Rwandan border official to fill out the paperwork, find the visa sticker and stamp us in. Luckily there were huge numbers of large fruit bats hanging head-down in the nearby trees, so we had something to look at and photograph during the whole process. We rejected offers to change money at a laughably poor rate and drove into Rwanda.</p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhcKOa7bHICk3PPFrc5_npmGxvKYIhCT5_nTw4dTM_I09B1CMH2VzAO3_keIFDQapuzozzOVbqvkUPqtwLUpUa4uzMEQeo9q9xd67KoGDNmLlnJ6-d-9pjFVNuYIWmVm3btEeBNELCD75OF0xW82AVAcD1aDjGGcg8X24eD3Qr6UGfYdjtcazgeYlm/s2000/DSC_8311.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1333" data-original-width="2000" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhcKOa7bHICk3PPFrc5_npmGxvKYIhCT5_nTw4dTM_I09B1CMH2VzAO3_keIFDQapuzozzOVbqvkUPqtwLUpUa4uzMEQeo9q9xd67KoGDNmLlnJ6-d-9pjFVNuYIWmVm3btEeBNELCD75OF0xW82AVAcD1aDjGGcg8X24eD3Qr6UGfYdjtcazgeYlm/w400-h266/DSC_8311.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Serious amounts of sugar cane on the move<br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><p style="text-align: justify;">The first few minutes of driving into a new country are always an educational experience as we look for what's new and different from the previous country, and what's the same. Rwanda and Burundi are twin countries in terms of having similar land areas, populations and ethnic makeup (84% Hutu, 15% Tutsi, 1% Twa), and also in terms of both having had unimaginable violence and genocide inflicted on their populations. Rwanda was the first of the two to lapse into genocide, with thousands of Tutsis massacred by Hutu revolutionary mobs between 1959 and independence in 1962. Hundreds of thousands of Tutsi refugees fled, mostly to Uganda, the previously downtrodden Hutus took control of the reins of government, and the seeds were sown for the even larger genocide of 1994. The 1994 genocide colours everything in today's Rwanda, with the RPF government's legitimacy stemming from its role as the group that brought the killings to an end in July, 1994 after 100 days of slaughter that left nearly 1 million Tutsis and moderate Hutus dead. Of course it's not quite as simple as that; a compelling book, <a href="https://www.amazon.com/Do-Not-Disturb-Political-African-ebook/dp/B08MBVD578/" target="_blank">Do Not Disturb, by the journalist Michela Wrong</a>, which both Terri and I had read just before our visit to the country shows how the RPF itself also indulged in large-scale atrocities after taking control of the country, and how Paul Kagame's government has built up a police state with a Putin-like propensity for imprisoning or killing those it deems disloyal to the state, both within Rwanda and, frequently, abroad.</p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKxDTgED2Nbl4RqL2o5AXAl-NP-Km7lmtpmXyVJMQwE5f5X4KiH-lgGoEYX0DPCo36BZMmKZfaEO6IwzHSeLduKk_Z9EyCvym_3DCWai0N0CtTLp5d9ALhIuPrmS-9zxdNaxM9oIrMoCNyBKNs6xSxVicVw9g_bV97vifIhLBq71l-iKXyIPkyZCoU/s2000/DSC_8223.jpg" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1333" data-original-width="2000" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKxDTgED2Nbl4RqL2o5AXAl-NP-Km7lmtpmXyVJMQwE5f5X4KiH-lgGoEYX0DPCo36BZMmKZfaEO6IwzHSeLduKk_Z9EyCvym_3DCWai0N0CtTLp5d9ALhIuPrmS-9zxdNaxM9oIrMoCNyBKNs6xSxVicVw9g_bV97vifIhLBq71l-iKXyIPkyZCoU/w400-h266/DSC_8223.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Huye's main street<br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><p style="text-align: justify;">None of this was visible to us as we drove slowly north towards Huye, the university town formerly known as Butare. What was visible was the number of bicycles on the road, despite the precipitous grade of the smooth asphalt. As was the case in Burundi, bicycles are the transport vehicle of choice for people in rural Rwanda, and it was impressive to see 100 kilograms or more of bananas being pushed up the hill by two wiry men bathed in sweat. There were more people on bicycles and fewer on foot than in Burundi, and as we approached the hilltop college town, there were far more motorcycles and cars on the road than we had seen anywhere in Burundi. Huye itself was a complete surprise, with neatly laid-out commercial blocks, bike lanes and sidewalks and a suburb of big, prosperous-looking suburban villas. There were banks and ATMs everywhere, the shops were bustling, and there was clearly a large and thriving middle class to be seen in the town. It looked as prosperous as Victoria Falls in Zimbabe or Lusaka, Zambia, and a world away from the grinding, obvious poverty just to the south in Burundi. The roads and back streets were smoothly paved, and we drove, mouths agape, to the Heroes Motel to check in. It was a pleasant suburban garden dotted with neat motel modules, and it looked like a good spot to base ourselves for a couple of nights, especially at a price of US$12 per night for the two of us. </p><p style="text-align: justify;">We wandered around, a bit dazed by the variety of goods for sale. We availed ourselves of the ATMs and headed off to dinner at a Chinese restaurant. The food was plentiful, excellent and not terribly expensive, although pricier than it had been in Burundi. The owner was a Chinese businessman, while the clientele was a mix of tourists, NGO workers and middle-class hipster Rwandans We ate ourselves into a stupor, then wandered home a few blocks to our motel.</p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkpFsqwZhxKWd77fLkH5WIECU4hwq7tbu-kw6MfTAmsG6te3JiXL8pvvVrsDe_EiEeGu2zUluPiPT_mn_qKokQIzR1wefFUGM3LSJl6Hvi8O6tdbIY9rCHrR6sj2X0uNmVQSvrcwxca1A9p7T33qfvIZQrq4bbaGva-7UWpNaOBlBjCM1iBKkuB9bi/s2000/DSC_8208.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1333" data-original-width="2000" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkpFsqwZhxKWd77fLkH5WIECU4hwq7tbu-kw6MfTAmsG6te3JiXL8pvvVrsDe_EiEeGu2zUluPiPT_mn_qKokQIzR1wefFUGM3LSJl6Hvi8O6tdbIY9rCHrR6sj2X0uNmVQSvrcwxca1A9p7T33qfvIZQrq4bbaGva-7UWpNaOBlBjCM1iBKkuB9bi/w400-h266/DSC_8208.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The view over the fence of the RNU genocide memorial, Huye<br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><p style="text-align: justify;">We spent the next morning poking around Huye, which is a pleasant town. Unlike in Burundi, we weren't particularly objects of curiosity and gaping, and the bike paths, broad streets and orderly traffic made cycling around on our folding bikes a pleasure. We bought SIM cards for our phones, although there was some sort of mass outage of the cellular data system so we couldn't access the internet. We rode to a coffee shop in search of wi-fi. The wi-fi turned out not to exist, but the coffee was (according to Terri) very tasty, and it was a pleasant place to sit, eat and read for a while. On the way out, we bought some Rwandan coffee for Terri and then rolled downhill towards the National University of Rwanda. </p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjITajbVhSmf4oPswhuiLpE5Q0Sh_5fk-Z6yqeE4t7TpWkEJ2vn3oXGzdJSlK6oVKtPuaH6rPJo8d2oBPs_pQLGsydzC4NRolWpid9Z1rNp-ceJYV8ZPlHe3rhPhIAOnw1LbgEWsbp5PVkX_fjRb5397paLizYxBxV0HSF0dkPlKLNz5Z2pjJnI_oPK/s2000/DSC_8210.jpg" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1333" data-original-width="2000" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjITajbVhSmf4oPswhuiLpE5Q0Sh_5fk-Z6yqeE4t7TpWkEJ2vn3oXGzdJSlK6oVKtPuaH6rPJo8d2oBPs_pQLGsydzC4NRolWpid9Z1rNp-ceJYV8ZPlHe3rhPhIAOnw1LbgEWsbp5PVkX_fjRb5397paLizYxBxV0HSF0dkPlKLNz5Z2pjJnI_oPK/w400-h266/DSC_8210.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Some of the staff at RNU who were hacked to death in 1994</td></tr></tbody></table><p style="text-align: justify;">I wanted to visit the campus' genocide memorial; the campus had been the site of terrible atrocities as Tutsi students and staff as well as intellectual Hutus were hacked to death by Hutu death squads. However, the campus security staff barred us from entering the campus, and were not at all helpful in letting us know how we could get permission. We ended up walking along the main road and peering over the fence at the memorial. It was the first time, although not the last, that the Rwandan authorities' desire to control society and individuals would manifest itself. </p><p style="text-align: justify;"><br /></p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiww72lO1hk13AxNLM1qIBMeY-k64mTnNOCehTXP1ec1-FuNYOq0iJuc4IufkUQYsTpwQJdXGLdKsFlnAy_1txvGHUbwm6yqXSxYLSElesFyBoQpba_zSUkAc9UYTy_TuBsdto7LE3bgVWFw-p-m27uOQ5q1FKE3rMDAJ0iWeZ4LGpNYpG7KT8T1HTK/s2000/DSC_8215.jpg" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1333" data-original-width="2000" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiww72lO1hk13AxNLM1qIBMeY-k64mTnNOCehTXP1ec1-FuNYOq0iJuc4IufkUQYsTpwQJdXGLdKsFlnAy_1txvGHUbwm6yqXSxYLSElesFyBoQpba_zSUkAc9UYTy_TuBsdto7LE3bgVWFw-p-m27uOQ5q1FKE3rMDAJ0iWeZ4LGpNYpG7KT8T1HTK/w400-h266/DSC_8215.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A stunning sunbird in Huye</td></tr></tbody></table><p style="text-align: justify;">As a plan B, we went for a short walk in a forest reserve opposite the university campus. Although Rwanda is far less litter-strewn than countries like Zambia and Tanzania, this was not the case in this glade, which was clearly used to dump rubbish. As we climbed back up towards the campus, we spotted playful and mischievous vervet monkeys who were fun to watch as they chased each other around the ornamental shrubbery, climbed up the sides of the student dorms and then ran across the busy main road. Vervets, when they're not actively pillaging your campsite, are actually fascinating to watch in action.</p><p style="text-align: justify;">We passed a lazy afternoon back at the motel, reading and catching up on sorting photos (a never-ending task!). The motel grounds were full of colourful sunbirds, and we spent a while seeking them out as they flitted restlessly in search of flower nectar.</p><p style="text-align: justify;">The following morning we set off for Kigali. I was pleased to find that my Visa card worked to pay for diesel, while the Vodaphone office was able (finally) to get our SIM cards functioning. The drive to Kigali was relatively easy, with less up-and-down undulation than you might expect, given the relentless verticality of the landscape. As in Burundi, more or less every square centimetre was under cultivation, but the houses we saw were several steps up in terms of livability. The highway was perfectly smooth tarmac, and for the first half of the journey had not too much traffic. That changed at a junction with a road leading west to Lake Kivu, and we spent the rest of the trip trying to pass a long succession of slow-moving heavy goods vehicles, many of which looked as though they were heading to the Democratic Republic of Congo. </p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHCDZNp5M1Hln1eqLPgmmhcHQISmMXxH8VwU41PkLHBvgcFbihTQeQYQmd_5PAUsX0wYUx_nEzoCthKbsxJPG0qLl1C5GaTiX0TuYhvCmlhu3L0q9y-rtqS6xIEN5pMgG7kceBRkTt4bps_hBvjhU7OKFO3uciJDSYlgq4fp-Q8EvPN7aOefPs4hFY/s2000/DSC_8227.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1333" data-original-width="2000" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHCDZNp5M1Hln1eqLPgmmhcHQISmMXxH8VwU41PkLHBvgcFbihTQeQYQmd_5PAUsX0wYUx_nEzoCthKbsxJPG0qLl1C5GaTiX0TuYhvCmlhu3L0q9y-rtqS6xIEN5pMgG7kceBRkTt4bps_hBvjhU7OKFO3uciJDSYlgq4fp-Q8EvPN7aOefPs4hFY/w400-h266/DSC_8227.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption">The role of France in the runup to the genocide<br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVBZlgnHTClC1iDPwFFE08JmZgY9HOqdKp8TSasx4J8Dlm5L-hIG0e3WsVwsS41WHLnCAvziNdhYF-0nf7k1crAnYdWAHuwFM7fZrHxGzweInEkiR_USS15FcxPjSNGw7tN5GFhCSVyP0GqCQ_ldmG5ctEONzNbhufEyubQr8MMdb7997Avlsiw4Ri/s2000/DSC_8229.jpg" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2000" data-original-width="1333" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVBZlgnHTClC1iDPwFFE08JmZgY9HOqdKp8TSasx4J8Dlm5L-hIG0e3WsVwsS41WHLnCAvziNdhYF-0nf7k1crAnYdWAHuwFM7fZrHxGzweInEkiR_USS15FcxPjSNGw7tN5GFhCSVyP0GqCQ_ldmG5ctEONzNbhufEyubQr8MMdb7997Avlsiw4Ri/w266-h400/DSC_8229.jpg" width="266" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Photos of genocide victims, Kigali<br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><span style="text-align: justify;">Once in the city, we made a bee-line for the legendary <a href="https://www.facebook.com/GermanButcheryKigali/" target="_blank">German Butchery</a>, keen to restock our freezer with delicious meats and cheeses. The Butchery is an NGO project designed to develop markets for Rwandan produce and meat, and it was fabulous. The meat was high quality and very reasonably priced, and we ended up spending nearly US$100 buying so much food that we could barely get our trusty Engel freezer closed. We then settled in for a delicious lunch at their restaurant which was populated almost entirely by Western expats working at local NGOs and embassies.</span><p style="text-align: justify;">Replete with pizza and beef stroganoff, we then drove to the one obligatory stop in Kigali, the <a href="https://kgm.rw/" target="_blank">Kigali Genocide Memorial</a>. Terri had visited years before and had found it so emotionally wrenching that she didn't want to repeat the experience. It took twenty minutes or more to get through the security checkpoint for cars at the entrance to the parking lot; security is a major concern for the RPF government. I spent an hour and a half wandering through the exhibits and the memorial plaques. </p><p style="text-align: justify;">It's a very professionally-presented memorial, but also completely devastating in its unflinching portrayal of the decades leading up to 1994, the progressive demonization of the Tutsis as "cockroaches" that needed to be exterminated, and the hundred days of blood-stained frenzy that started when the presidents of Rwanda and Burundi were assassinated, ironically while returning by air from a peace conference in Tanzania. The identity of who fired the surface-to-air missile that brought down the airplane carrying the two presidents is still a matter of sharp controversy, but most third-party observers now seem to agree that it was fired by the rebel forces of the Rwandan People's Front. </p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjenRhKJEZVfXsPqzL2nCN5MdL6KJkfHuKQkLpPP1-VBieHeA8nluyA3kSbOJ7WEK8IaCFmlK5zFgrVyYKtdkbuXxqewCj3bRuxt5q3Y1rXF_iE2ogZYk04NpVfLn5xakAU92SmtKWA2thhrK4e6KDHrKYcRJkNA6HYKJElKyFg2pbqzh5A8EagYExa/s2000/DSC_8232.jpg" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2000" data-original-width="1333" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjenRhKJEZVfXsPqzL2nCN5MdL6KJkfHuKQkLpPP1-VBieHeA8nluyA3kSbOJ7WEK8IaCFmlK5zFgrVyYKtdkbuXxqewCj3bRuxt5q3Y1rXF_iE2ogZYk04NpVfLn5xakAU92SmtKWA2thhrK4e6KDHrKYcRJkNA6HYKJElKyFg2pbqzh5A8EagYExa/w266-h400/DSC_8232.jpg" width="266" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">One single child victim</td></tr></tbody></table><p style="text-align: justify;">The RPF was founded in Uganda among descendants of the Tutsis who fled the<a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Rwandan_Revolution" target="_blank"> 1959 genocide</a>, and many of its members had already fought for years in the Ugandan civil war, helping to bring Yoweri Museveni to power in 1986. After playing a key role in rebuilding Uganda after the bloodshed and chaos of <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Milton_Obote" target="_blank">Milton Obote's</a> second administration, many of these hardened guerrilla fighters turned their eyes westward to their ancestral homeland and decided to try to overthrow the Hutu-led government in Kigali. The Rwandan president, <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Juv%C3%A9nal_Habyarimana" target="_blank">Juvenal Habyarimana</a>, surrounded himself with a coterie of radical Hutu Power extremists who openly advocated the massacre of Tutsis, and whose violent rhetoric became increasingly genocidal as the RPF advanced through northeastern Rwanda. The killing of the president provided the trigger for violence that had been planned with ruthless efficiency for months. Lists of moderate Hutu politicians and civil servants, along with longer lists of Tutsis, had been prepared, and were now used to round up "enemies of the Hutu people". The small UN peacekeeping force, UNAMIR, was tiny and outnumbered, and a notoriously cruel incident early on in which 10 Belgian peacekeepers were captured, tortured and gruesomely murdered made the UN reluctant to risk more peacekeepers by intervening.</p><p style="text-align: justify;">I was in graduate school in 1994, and I remember following the events in Rwanda with an appalled fascination. The international community failed utterly to intervene in any meaningful way for over three months, and the first intervention, by the French military, was actually on the side of the genocidaires, trying to prevent the overthrow of a Francophone government by a group of Anglophone rebels. The completely supine response by the UN and by Western governments was indefensible, and motivates the current government (led by those one-time RPF rebels, who ended up driving the genocidaires into exile in July of 1994) to be utterly dismissive of any Western criticism of Rwanda's human rights record or its long list of assassinations on foreign soil.</p><p style="text-align: justify;">The larger-scale political dimensions of the genocide were not foremost in my mind as I wandered through the exhibit halls. Instead I was drawn to the individual stories of victims of the massacres: elderly grandparents; parents who died trying to save their children; schoolchildren; prominent political figures; ordinary citizens butchered by their neighbours and even their own in-laws. The faces gazing out at me from the black-and-white photos and their short life stories written down in a few terse sentences tore at my soul and left me feeling nauseated. </p><p style="text-align: justify;">One gallery near the end, relating the Rwandan genocide to other grim chapters of 20th century history like the 1915 Armenian genocide, the 1904-07 slaughter of the Herero of Namibia by German colonial forces, the Nazi genocide of the Jews of Europe, the Khmer Rouge's massacre of their own population, universalized what happened in Rwanda as something that could happen anywhere that politicians and military leaders succeed in dehumanizing and demonizing vulnerable populations. It's part of the human condition, albeit a dark and horrifying part that most of us don't want to peer at too deeply. Having visited Nazi death camps in eastern Europe, the Yad Vashem Holocaust Memorial in Jerusalem, the Killing Fields of Cambodia, various museums to Soviet atrocities in the Baltic States, and the <span style="background-color: white; color: #202122; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Tsitsernakaberd Genocide Memorial in Yerevan, I felt an eerie similarity in what I saw here in Kigali. When you add in governments determined to erase entire cultures (the Tibetans and Uighurs in Communist China, the Chechens and Crimean Tatars in the USSR, the indigenous cultures of North America, the Aboriginal peoples of Australia, the Roma of Eastern Europe), the dreadful universal nature of this sanguinary history comes into a sharper perspective. The behaviour of Russian troops in occupied Ukraine and the shrill bombast of Russian leaders are just another manifestation of this human tendency to other, to demonize and (ultimately) to try to erase troublesome people and cultures out of existence.</span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #202122; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"></span></span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhO_xsdkrZTmeoLzFsNYHgrzx2cLBdq3lcHW1ZP3blY8qzlZZFsHfLsE26nf-0c9M_JwlXhBi3McY_z3j-sNOWzoIBIcKZJgxQfrqjJN7W32iBXNnoxZGuHp46dxaapeXlWxqsZlSL5Oo9FQHqcHQbdmcR0ZzLeX30QNhWjCrCyf_dKch_rzg3j9TtS/s2000/DSC_8236.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1333" data-original-width="2000" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhO_xsdkrZTmeoLzFsNYHgrzx2cLBdq3lcHW1ZP3blY8qzlZZFsHfLsE26nf-0c9M_JwlXhBi3McY_z3j-sNOWzoIBIcKZJgxQfrqjJN7W32iBXNnoxZGuHp46dxaapeXlWxqsZlSL5Oo9FQHqcHQbdmcR0ZzLeX30QNhWjCrCyf_dKch_rzg3j9TtS/w400-h266/DSC_8236.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Names of a few of the million victims, Kigali<br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #202122; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">I emerged, blinking, into the peaceful outdoor memorials and spent a while wandering around, contemplating what had happened around me 28 years previously. It was hard to believe, on this sunny day, surrounded by a bustling city, what horrors had been perpetrated all around me, often by people who still live here. It must be difficult for those who survived the 1994 genocide to realize that many of the people who used machetes and hoes to kill their relatives are still their neighbours today.</span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #202122; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">We were in a sombre mood as we drove up into the steep hillside neighbourhood of Step Town in search of a place to camp. We had heard that the Step Town Motel was friendly to overlanders, and so it proved. We drove Stanley up the precipitous driveway and parked in the corner of the parking lot, next to a handy outdoor picnic shelter. It was a bit noisy (the motel is a thriving business, and we could hear voices late into the night from the restaurant and from people on their balconies), but clean, friendly and (for Rwanda) fairly inexpensive.</span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #202122; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">The following day started off with a series of frustrations. We were trying to catch up on <a href="https://www.youtube.com/@stanleystravels5738" target="_blank">our YouTube video editing</a>, and Terri was trying to communicate with <a href="https://olivetreelearningcentre.com/" target="_blank">Olive Tree Learning Centre</a> about year-end financial matters, but the internet was terrible, one of my hard drives stopped working (a few days after I had dropped it on a concrete floor), my telephone camera died (after the soaking it received while tracking chimps in Burundi), WhatsApp stopped functioning, our previously uploaded Christmas video suddenly went on the fritz....These were all definitely First World problems, but they were collectively annoying. </span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #202122; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"></span></span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPmuWS-VSwIbIbkxJBZX-zD2Md-iRZUhGCuAiFKPzsCEUZCOwlclIcYtTb3IFvscwJSbcbkmw5TSDCVkvxNjMxaNmlQ0fDE53wfTN95kY3H-g1cHU7hhfHCBH6UwKFSSuqwFxMm7BZayPAR4ZXvzUtg6y1sQBIA788fj8ua7FxhHlIVHxp3xl2FFVo/s2000/DSC_8243.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1333" data-original-width="2000" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPmuWS-VSwIbIbkxJBZX-zD2Md-iRZUhGCuAiFKPzsCEUZCOwlclIcYtTb3IFvscwJSbcbkmw5TSDCVkvxNjMxaNmlQ0fDE53wfTN95kY3H-g1cHU7hhfHCBH6UwKFSSuqwFxMm7BZayPAR4ZXvzUtg6y1sQBIA788fj8ua7FxhHlIVHxp3xl2FFVo/w400-h266/DSC_8243.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Hotel Mille Collines genocide memorial<br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #202122; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Eventually we threw up our hands, gave up and walked downtown to see the Hotel de Mille Collines, the five-star hotel that was the setting for the events depicted in the film <a href="https://www.imdb.com/title/tt0395169/" target="_blank">Hotel Rwanda</a>, where the manager saved the lives of hundreds of people who were sheltering there from the genocidaires. In a sign of how completely the current Rwandan government wants to impose its authoritarian control of history onto the world, <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Paul_Rusesabagina" target="_blank">Paul Rusesabagina</a>, the hero of the story, the man who preserved the lives of so many people in 1994, was arrested in 2020. He was charged with terrorism for daring to oppose Paul Kagame's government, was convicted in 2021 and was sentenced to 25 years in prison. <a href="https://www.bbc.com/news/world-africa-65120307">Only a month ago his sentence was suddenly commuted</a> and he returned to the US, where he has been a permanent resident for years. We walked steeply uphill to the central business district, along streets full of motorcycle taxis and large SUVs. The Mille Collines is back to functioning as a luxury business hotel, but there are a couple of monuments in the parking lot attesting to the events of 1994. We wandered around, took a few pictures, admired some striking modern Rwandan sculptures and then, just as we were preparing to leave, the skies turned black and one of the biggest cloudbursts of our entire trip descended from the heavens. We headed back to the lobby and sheltered there for an hour as torrents of water lashed down, then gave up on the idea of exploring Kigali and returned to the Step Town. </span></span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwiYD8uGYp1eo26xMYPw243nK0r-bXuJOcPXmmGHA-5S6YmQKYr-QMMjoHxuoLN7jjtcTU2sVPVGIu1IOb12oKL6TAQA_cbXmrm9_-RVStetnJ5EkfRUHLryiuoZ1adgXx4yjEUHOm25Y4a6dMr_48A78SzwOyhe7WRpZ-Ta0vh5BaqDoz1brdDu3S/s2000/DSC_8248.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1333" data-original-width="2000" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwiYD8uGYp1eo26xMYPw243nK0r-bXuJOcPXmmGHA-5S6YmQKYr-QMMjoHxuoLN7jjtcTU2sVPVGIu1IOb12oKL6TAQA_cbXmrm9_-RVStetnJ5EkfRUHLryiuoZ1adgXx4yjEUHOm25Y4a6dMr_48A78SzwOyhe7WRpZ-Ta0vh5BaqDoz1brdDu3S/w400-h266/DSC_8248.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Looking out at the Hotel Mille Collines pool</td></tr></tbody></table><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #202122; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">I picked up my malfunctioning laptop and two equally non-performing hard drives, stuffed them into a knapsack and set off on the pack of a motorcycle taxi for a computer repair shop that we had found online. I was not optimistic; I seem to have an aura that destroys electronic gear. This time, however, I hit the jackpot of luck. The computer repair shop was run by an unassuming middle-aged man from Mumbai named Akbar, and he was a wizard. He got one of my hard drives working immediately, and then took apart my laptop, pulled out a large pencil eraser and set to work rubbing the connections of the computer's RAM. A few minutes of erasing, and suddenly my laptop, which hadn't worked since Livingstone (I had bought a backup in Lusaka which I had been using ever since) was alive again. My other hard drive, the one I had dropped, was judged to be completely dead, but (as Meatloaf once sang) two out of three ain't bad. I reached for my wallet, and Akbar refused payment, saying that it had only taken a few minutes, and hadn't involved any real technical skill. I tried to press some payment on him, and he laughed and refused again. I thanked him profusely and hopped back onto another motorcycle taxi to return to Stanley and Maree.</span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #202122; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"></span></span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuD5BhgLuYcJWU8yD4ttefKr1gT8N23qA9223nqfmwI_zpOIjBLxII8E8cJiJEQ3uwAs6RTqgLg7QhST15Hm9gQ1T99JTyq_XK9TsRyZaPcekPlIPZpDHCRA6QfLfzumnot_8umKlaYPqVuYZDRu0u1ukbG6JfIEuJig5L7P3tiF_YdaYdIjqlk6GD/s2000/DSC_8259.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1333" data-original-width="2000" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuD5BhgLuYcJWU8yD4ttefKr1gT8N23qA9223nqfmwI_zpOIjBLxII8E8cJiJEQ3uwAs6RTqgLg7QhST15Hm9gQ1T99JTyq_XK9TsRyZaPcekPlIPZpDHCRA6QfLfzumnot_8umKlaYPqVuYZDRu0u1ukbG6JfIEuJig5L7P3tiF_YdaYdIjqlk6GD/w400-h266/DSC_8259.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The hills of northern Rwanda<br /><br /><br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvxUlPoR2SrsD0Y7gjgfhcOFbCF0onk6Slmz3pfs8uotCVGoswjqhu5p21Sg_D_PSSm-0DSJZowTgPZpSLRgJN_R6UHWhpL1uozDriHfihdFDxJC9RVAidZdFHbvc0czZDIss79NBcy6CpEK5ArbWmaa8trxgUOJnjA43UhgsJh-vzyyQg0fcD4UJF/s2000/DSC_8270.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1333" data-original-width="2000" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvxUlPoR2SrsD0Y7gjgfhcOFbCF0onk6Slmz3pfs8uotCVGoswjqhu5p21Sg_D_PSSm-0DSJZowTgPZpSLRgJN_R6UHWhpL1uozDriHfihdFDxJC9RVAidZdFHbvc0czZDIss79NBcy6CpEK5ArbWmaa8trxgUOJnjA43UhgsJh-vzyyQg0fcD4UJF/w400-h266/DSC_8270.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The hillsides of the Nile-Congo divide</td></tr></tbody></table><span style="background-color: white; color: #202122; font-family: inherit;">The next morning we were planning on getting going early, but fate intervened. After sleeping in unexpectedly late, we were starting to pack up when Terri's beloved MacBook Air laptop suddenly stopped working. After fighting with it for a long time and trying to back up as much data as possible, Terri retraced my steps of the previous day and headed to see Akbar. Akbar produced his usual wizardry, and an hour later Terri was back with a resurrected computer. We finally got going at 12:30 with me at the wheel. I promptly got misdirected on the way out of town by our Maps.me navigator, ending up stuck on a steep sidestreet that ended abruptly. It took Terri ten stressful minutes to get us turned around and heading uphill again. Once we got going, in a sea of heavily laden trucks, we settled into a day of steep, unrelenting climbs and descents. On one of them our radiator started to boil and we took twenty minutes to let poor Stanley cool down. As we climbed, our views became more expansive and we began to catch sight of the big volcanoes of the Virunga Range. We stopped a few times for photos of the green hillsides (full of tea plantations) with the volcanic cones behind, but were constantly badgered by kids begging insistently and loudly, so eventually we gave up on photography and concentrated on driving.</span></div><div><span style="background-color: white; color: #202122; font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="background-color: white; color: #202122; font-family: inherit;"> </span><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgd9KF4H5da6z-cxubd53T52TqSo19SvRlUEQ4Ni0Fo_J4Q0hCKs6t-7K69KWHxxS81V2bSDJU4ci4TAVSMINtzub7toEc1tU8twguJhrGKepGYItDex9FasD-CJGsf3FhV_oICmdtbILjj-Hbw7xKhidEWMHTdM6VoXhAsKO4oLJ6FFFqU8SabwOtH/s2000/DSC_8276.jpg" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1333" data-original-width="2000" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgd9KF4H5da6z-cxubd53T52TqSo19SvRlUEQ4Ni0Fo_J4Q0hCKs6t-7K69KWHxxS81V2bSDJU4ci4TAVSMINtzub7toEc1tU8twguJhrGKepGYItDex9FasD-CJGsf3FhV_oICmdtbILjj-Hbw7xKhidEWMHTdM6VoXhAsKO4oLJ6FFFqU8SabwOtH/w400-h266/DSC_8276.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The volcanic cones of the Virunga Range</td></tr></tbody></table><span style="background-color: white; color: #202122; font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="background-color: white; font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="background-color: white; font-family: inherit;">We reached an altitude of 2420 metres above sea level before the road began finally to slope definitively down to the <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Albertine_Rift" target="_blank">Albertine Rift Valley</a>. After dropping a vertical kilometre, we came out in the untidy tangle of houses and hotels that is Gisenyi. This is where Rwanda runs into the Democratic Republic of Congo, with the large Congolese city of Goma just across the border. A few dozen kilometres away the M23 rebel group were busy fighting the DRC's army for control over key towns and transport routes, but there was no sign of this from our vantage point. </span><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #202122; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">The M23 is widely believed to be armed and supported by Rwanda, who have been meddling in eastern DRC for the past 25 years, having <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/First_Congo_War" target="_blank">invaded in force in 1996</a> and then again in greater numbers in 1998. The second invasion set into place <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Second_Congo_War" target="_blank">a regional war that drew in no fewer than nine African countries</a> and resulted in millions of death, largely due to disease and starvation, as eastern DRC became a killing ground fought over by dozens of warlords and African governments, all attracted by the mineral wealth of the region. Rwanda is estimated to have extracted several billions of dollars in wealth from its depredations in DRC, and tensions continue to bubble up. Only a month after our visit <a href="https://www.dw.com/en/rwanda-fires-at-dr-congo-fighter-jet-claiming-violation/a-64510253" target="_blank">Rwandan forces fired at a DRC fighter jet</a> that it claimed had violated Rwandan airspace, leaving it to make an emergency landing at Goma airport with flames licking out of one of its wings. There are persistent rumours of a renewal of full-scale war, with Uganda backing the DRC government; one-time colleagues and comrades-in-arms Yoweri Museveni and Paul Kagame have very definitively fallen out, and another regional war cannot be ruled out. Meanwhile the population of North Kivu province of DRC continues to suffer rape, killings, robberies and the depredations of warlords.</span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #202122; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"></span></span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinh1O7TG3f1uJqgxkQlvlFCBn9qUQ9Rzfdxi-5cFV_qMqEUSs1MHXTPQ_1HFhZAs24xH14u7E2TiWolssXYaW8c0ecH0XXRK96VBOeGz8mBY-8AWETVnlovRqaV1JZ7yhCNSDeJjkAkgPO6ZqOQCsa6zKzOKAMu_7UefYKleT-_aZooZw3YlIEP-qC/s2000/DSC_8279.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1333" data-original-width="2000" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinh1O7TG3f1uJqgxkQlvlFCBn9qUQ9Rzfdxi-5cFV_qMqEUSs1MHXTPQ_1HFhZAs24xH14u7E2TiWolssXYaW8c0ecH0XXRK96VBOeGz8mBY-8AWETVnlovRqaV1JZ7yhCNSDeJjkAkgPO6ZqOQCsa6zKzOKAMu_7UefYKleT-_aZooZw3YlIEP-qC/w400-h266/DSC_8279.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The start of the Lake Kivu gas project<br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZKCtslv_Go6VtEbO8veQTU82HWgAgGiipemqM7Ah03YsiFuUcf3sj4S44YajsxR9GKYk8jmJKYTyWRLKyjag5x4Qn4JnHhVMY4Fcr2zpNwwDjmRnIJ-ohZyU_qbbR4XtoqVjXs_hT-Lo1KFOTeVA8MCCOrcyFueieydwTyPybJii5DlwZpqM81JnX/s2000/DSC_8284.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1331" data-original-width="2000" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZKCtslv_Go6VtEbO8veQTU82HWgAgGiipemqM7Ah03YsiFuUcf3sj4S44YajsxR9GKYk8jmJKYTyWRLKyjag5x4Qn4JnHhVMY4Fcr2zpNwwDjmRnIJ-ohZyU_qbbR4XtoqVjXs_hT-Lo1KFOTeVA8MCCOrcyFueieydwTyPybJii5DlwZpqM81JnX/w400-h266/DSC_8284.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Lesser striped swallow, Kivu Paradis<br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #202122; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Luckily, on the Rwandan side of the border it's still peaceful, and we drove along a narrow steep track that clings to the lakeside mountains to reach Kivu Paradis, a small resort on a tiny bay in Lake Kivu, just before sunset. Unfortunately for the Rwandan owner of the hotel, <a href="https://www.africanews.com/2022/07/26/rwanda-will-produce-methane-gas-from-lake-kivu//" target="_blank">Lake Kivu is about to see a huge natural gas production facility come onstream</a>, and many of the pipes transporting gas to shore will pass right in front of the hotel; already the view is despoiled by a mass of pipes running out of the depths of the lake. We camped in the muddy parking lot and watched the sun go down over the lake, lighting up the Congolese side of the lake.</span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #202122; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">It was a reasonable place to sleep, and the next morning, December 18th, we awoke early to the sound of birdsong. We leapt up and set off to explore the hotel grounds. The owner has created a very pretty garden, full of flowers that attract sunbirds as well as dozens of other bird species. We spent a couple of happy hours peering through binoculars, taking photos and wandering through the gardens. However we had a long drive and a border crossing ahead of us, so by 9:00 we were on the road again. We ground 1000 metres uphill again to the watershed between the Congo and Nile basins, then backtracked further to where the road to the Ugandan border peels off at Musanze. We lost all of the truck traffic and drove along quickly to reach the Ugandan border at Cyanika where we had one of the quickest and easiest border crossings of our trip. And then, just like that, we were finished with Rwanda after only five days.</span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #202122; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"></span></span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyXuNN9ML1fa5LvksGMQO5jy_RpRVwBzWq9mj3wR64rtXwPKG-St6WEH9VqvsCY6MUYGFZlDiS6IDxRNKoWTA1taDU--b2Y_UzgwcwwVJs7si7TJNCyIFqtjjx82kkQ42zm8FMicfsnSw21D5_aQJoTVAEM2FZR-oOVmVm8FozaPfT0YLZYQqcLbQY/s2000/DSC_8299.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1334" data-original-width="2000" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyXuNN9ML1fa5LvksGMQO5jy_RpRVwBzWq9mj3wR64rtXwPKG-St6WEH9VqvsCY6MUYGFZlDiS6IDxRNKoWTA1taDU--b2Y_UzgwcwwVJs7si7TJNCyIFqtjjx82kkQ42zm8FMicfsnSw21D5_aQJoTVAEM2FZR-oOVmVm8FozaPfT0YLZYQqcLbQY/w400-h266/DSC_8299.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Weaver, Kivu Paradis<br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: #202122;"><span style="background-color: white;">We could have spent more time in Rwanda, but given that Rwandan national parks and wildlife reserves are quite expensive, it made more sense for us to save our time and money for Uganda, where many of the same animals and birds are to be seen. I think we got a good sense of the country during our brief stay, and I don't really feel the need to return. So long Rwanda: it's been fun!</span></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: #202122;"><span style="background-color: white;"></span></span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWVnWqSEaMeGnig3KvRpD6Nz3ZB2r7Kzq7_FunOrnpkyKNzdrI9SWYv6Vi8jvHWKJj3C5y7sgyxU7G3KMulkoCXCn7kLR5NR0HflgtFUEYsFoGOR6HYSbnp1bjnJrqs-rbz0zQ6Jh1QtG86pUlfsVV5dTFsI29AIvK0AfqYhgFs3XMVt26OJHD5iYO/s2000/DSC_8306.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1337" data-original-width="2000" height="268" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWVnWqSEaMeGnig3KvRpD6Nz3ZB2r7Kzq7_FunOrnpkyKNzdrI9SWYv6Vi8jvHWKJj3C5y7sgyxU7G3KMulkoCXCn7kLR5NR0HflgtFUEYsFoGOR6HYSbnp1bjnJrqs-rbz0zQ6Jh1QtG86pUlfsVV5dTFsI29AIvK0AfqYhgFs3XMVt26OJHD5iYO/w400-h268/DSC_8306.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Kivu Paradis <br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-635211973012255844.post-56844987440767717052023-02-19T05:48:00.000-08:002023-02-19T05:48:38.408-08:00A Brief Visit to Western Tanzania (Retrospective, Nov-Dec 2022)<iframe height="480" src="https://www.google.com/maps/d/embed?mid=136JF5-xHckIQxQNgrKYzY4BVxMbXc5s&ehbc=2E312F" width="640"></iframe>
<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">February 19th, Jambiani, Zanzibar</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">I am slowly trying to work my way through my backlog of pending blog posts. A few weeks ago I published <a href="https://graydonstravels.blogspot.com/2023/01/what-to-know-about-visiting-burundi.html" target="_blank">a how-to post about visiting Burundi</a>, but today it's back to a traditional narrative post, about our journey up the western side of Tanzania.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><b><u><span style="font-size: medium;">The Backstory</span></u></b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">When I was a lot younger than I am today, in January of 1981, my family moved to Morogoro, Tanzania for two years. My father had accepted a two-year contract through the Norwegian foreign aid organization NORAD to teach forestry at the agricultural university in Morogoro; he took a two-year leave of absence from his teaching post at Lakehead University in Thunder Bay and off we went to live in the foothills of the Uluguru Mountains. Although at first I didn't want to go, those two years definitely lit the spark of wanderlust that has been stoked into a raging wildfire in my adult years. I came back from that sojourn much more aware of the wider world outside Northwestern Ontario. I went back to East Africa for seven hectic weeks in 1995, visiting my sister Audie who was working as a biologist in the Serengeti National Park, then travelling to Zanzibar, climbing Kilimanjaro, Mt. Meru and Mt. Kenya, and then going to see gorillas in eastern DRC (or Zaire, as it was then) and chimpanzees in Uganda.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">That was twenty-seven years ago, when I was half the age I am now. When Terri and I started Stanley's Travels in 2016, the plan was always to drive up into East Africa with our camper, but news of my father's cancer called me home, and we ended up not driving any further north than Zambia on that leg of our trip. Our 2018 trip took us only to Namibia and South Africa, and the covid pandemic in 2020 shelved our return to East Africa for another two years. Finally, on the morning of November 26, 2022, we found ourselves at the tiny border crossing post at Kasesya, crossing from Zambia into Tanzania. Although we weren't planning to pass through Morogoro, it still felt like a form of homecoming.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><b><u><span style="font-size: medium;">The Chaos of Sumbawanga</span></u></b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><b><u><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></u></b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">The border crossing was relatively straightforward, although we were nervous. We had been told that we needed to show valid yellow fever certificates at the border, and we had just discovered that not only was mine expired (they last for 10 years), so was Terri's. We had tried in several spots in Zambia to rectify this, but nowhere had yellow fever vaccine in stock, and so we decided to take a chance. Luckily the health officer was busy on the telephone, flirting with a young woman, and took only a cursory glance at our yellow vaccination booklets, not even opening them, so we squeaked through. We drove away, thanking our lucky stars, and trundled off down the dirt road into Tanzania.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">We were at a reasonable altitude (1200 m) at the border, and I was slightly surprised that the road headed slowly uphill. It was a densely-populated area (Tanzania's population, 65.5 million, is three times what it was when I lived there, and is growing at a very rapid 3% per year), intensively farmed, full of neatly-built brick houses. We stopped for a roadside sandwich at a rare rural space between settlement, then drove into the regional centre of Sumbawanga on a really good tarmac road that started some 20 km outside town. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoGL_WY-sEDyOpf-3sHg9DyPc737acj652_0R-kMYvbqY_oo9hL8QHjj7xUd0sR_3h3o_lmOuW9typXy4okUBQtA0x_0k3OxluzvDm7O2yoq6gVciaQevwIyFwulQ6OuuDm2ei1jDeAz_0-8IFQWDbRNyG37mr165dG7CLVyWm6jrbYkBDJSghx0Q8/s2000/DSC_7635.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1333" data-original-width="2000" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoGL_WY-sEDyOpf-3sHg9DyPc737acj652_0R-kMYvbqY_oo9hL8QHjj7xUd0sR_3h3o_lmOuW9typXy4okUBQtA0x_0k3OxluzvDm7O2yoq6gVciaQevwIyFwulQ6OuuDm2ei1jDeAz_0-8IFQWDbRNyG37mr165dG7CLVyWm6jrbYkBDJSghx0Q8/w400-h266/DSC_7635.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A team of oxen plodding uphill near Sumbawanga<br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">Sumbawanga was the biggest town we had seen since Lusaka, and was a bit overwhelming. We got Tanzanian shillings out of an ATM, then spent a very loud hour getting local SIM cards for our phones. It took several attempts to find a place to buy them, and several attempts to make the mandatory government registration process work. The process was overseen by a young man and woman who were full of hilarity and mirth, especially when I trotted out a few half-remembered Swahili phrases. We finally left just before sunset with functioning cell phones and found a small motel to spend the night. It was comfortable and inexpensive, but didn't have the atmosphere of a campsite in the wilderness.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">The next morning we drove uphill from Sumbawanga (at 1600 m above sea level) in search of Mbizi Forest Reserve, said to be full of a subspecies of red colobus monkey. It was a depressing outing, as we drove uphill to find the area that had once been the forest reserve completely clearcut to establish farms, whose shiny metal roofs testified to their recent date. That swelling human population had overwhelmed the forest reserve, and its trees (and monkeys) were no more. Scanning the horizon and maps.me, we could see that there might be a few tiny vestiges of forest 10 or 15 km away, but we decided to cut our losses and retreat, saddened at the habitat loss.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlDI1s4tjjFn9QTwuxUqcuw6YaHGRBGgKZGcCjQfMHC8R1rtrSmxKHQrAdbuFOqdbWXfny_ar7002sGhT-ezXzgZMwy3qL8vFYvVkTJjS9nseM1HRDiX7ilE6y_qzOHfckG3pq8z_xwQ-4qglCBuKPYTIKTomKIG6A4puiekVcTrvlomp-C0skNrfi/s2000/DSC_7633.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1333" data-original-width="2000" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlDI1s4tjjFn9QTwuxUqcuw6YaHGRBGgKZGcCjQfMHC8R1rtrSmxKHQrAdbuFOqdbWXfny_ar7002sGhT-ezXzgZMwy3qL8vFYvVkTJjS9nseM1HRDiX7ilE6y_qzOHfckG3pq8z_xwQ-4qglCBuKPYTIKTomKIG6A4puiekVcTrvlomp-C0skNrfi/w400-h266/DSC_7633.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">In (futile) search of the Mbizi Forest Reserve above Sumbawanga<br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">From there we drove for 60 blissfully smooth kilometres along a brand-new tarmac highway, with our only regret being that almost the entire way we were in villages and towns, where our speed was limited to 50 km/h. We had heard worrying stories about Tanzanian traffic police, but the two times we were stopped at checkpoints, we had friendly conversations and were sent on our way, making me think that the cops were just bored and keen to practice their English. The landscape was pretty, with rolling hills that saw us climb up as high as 1900 m before declining again gently.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">At Chala, we turned off the tarmac and, after a brief traverse across a plateau, we entered a forest reserve (which actually existed this time!) and began the dramatic descent into the Albertine (or western) Rift Valley, that gash in the landscape that is filled by a series of lakes, the largest and most consequential of which is Lake Tanganyika. The road was in reasonable condition, and the forest was filled with birds and flowers and was utterly devoid of human habitation. Finally we spilled out at an elevation of 800 m onto the cultivated fields around Lake Tanganyika and made our way to the Lake Shore Lodge, an almost obligatory stop for overlanders in western Tanzania.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><u><b><span style="font-size: medium;">Lounging at Lake Shore</span></b></u></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">Lake Shore Lodge is a wonderful oasis of beauty. It's a high-end resort right on a lovely stretch of shoreline, and its rooms are beautiful and pricey. Luckily they also have a series of reasonably priced campsites, well separated and shaded, with solar panels to plug one's camper batteries into to compensate for the vehicle roof being in shade. We ended up spending three wonderful nights there, and I would have been glad to stay longer.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgm-nXplHihztkoTJyHlbr4uPP2h5298ntd2Oy_2JJfC-d8FFOGnAPJ96a3XLBePAfEgldOJPheYq0OicmryQx8bkq5atZEyGYbk5WoVjYJMz6bn6_3I6lQOT3fFHFlbDyTn_p48jRv2rWD50sLXPMzAy0ON3jTnu3ChF61HzLrOWC13BlI1YUsflEp/s2000/DSC_7655.jpg" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2000" data-original-width="1333" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgm-nXplHihztkoTJyHlbr4uPP2h5298ntd2Oy_2JJfC-d8FFOGnAPJ96a3XLBePAfEgldOJPheYq0OicmryQx8bkq5atZEyGYbk5WoVjYJMz6bn6_3I6lQOT3fFHFlbDyTn_p48jRv2rWD50sLXPMzAy0ON3jTnu3ChF61HzLrOWC13BlI1YUsflEp/w266-h400/DSC_7655.jpg" width="266" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A palm-nut vulture at Lake Shore</td></tr></tbody></table><span style="text-align: justify;">It was the first time that either Terri or I had seen Lake Tanganyika, and it was an impressive sight of an even more impressive lake. I grew up on the shore of Lake Superior, the largest freshwater lake in the world by area, and so I am attracted to big inland bodies of water. I knew from many a pub quiz that the most voluminous freshwater lake in the world is Russia's Lake Baikal, but it wasn't until I looked up Lake Tanganyika that I realized that Tanganyika, not Superior, is number two on that list, despite being only the fifth largest by area. The reason for this impressive volume is that Tanganyika is seriously deep, with its deepest point being some 1500 m below the surface (and so 730 m below sea level), thanks to its position in the huge geological gash that is the Albertine Rift. It's a very long, narrow lake, some 640 km long but with the other side of the lake always visible, no matter where on the lake you are. We gazed out across the lake towards the misty mountains of the Democratic Republic of Congo, wishing it were easier and safer to cross into DRC and lamenting the loss of the legendary steamer MV Liemba which spent a century linking isolated communities along the shores of the great lake. </span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibhjCjYIIUeaCBo7hHtSpzr5E7UX64qomqTW-_YDRfrRnlVc3UcE3c8rgIAzvEQvs4u8-jLNFkrPyiXEIBrAG6PU3-gGtks0qPykz-Nbk2M-t-MPalbu4LPEljuexu2452IFbBzBdgRRSTQ-cZefGiEaOjy3KIFVtTmgmbNfz__ehO8kLBjj4CzIhi/s2000/DSC_7639.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1333" data-original-width="2000" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibhjCjYIIUeaCBo7hHtSpzr5E7UX64qomqTW-_YDRfrRnlVc3UcE3c8rgIAzvEQvs4u8-jLNFkrPyiXEIBrAG6PU3-gGtks0qPykz-Nbk2M-t-MPalbu4LPEljuexu2452IFbBzBdgRRSTQ-cZefGiEaOjy3KIFVtTmgmbNfz__ehO8kLBjj4CzIhi/w400-h266/DSC_7639.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sunset over Lake Tanganyika at Lake Shore</td></tr></tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">Our idea was to borrow a sea kayak and go exploring the islands that dot the bays around the resort. Sadly, that never happened. We did manage to go swimming every day that we were there, but every afternoon the skies would darken and apocalyptic thunderstorms would roll in from the DRC over the lake. It made for dramatic sunsets, but didn't encourage lengthy paddling explorations. We did do some fun birdwatching (the exquisite gardens of the resort attracted a plethora of sunbirds), but after two days we decided that paddling Lake Tanganyika would have to wait for the dry season.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjl-KsNrUpMwlGhHSEDayc_Yz07qDOlH_WVUy7Odx77U77TfK06sph79p8XI-VctzlZXTcv5WvxHZil3aCQanTd60BK0SoQB87SVaoEOHs2gcZUhPzSYLrHPWjIxDgemOaqLrg2TjGNhCJ1bLl72DdbL0bfIsQiA4wouCO7NpDmz5vcPuXd5ezaKbDY/s2000/DSC_7640.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1333" data-original-width="2000" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjl-KsNrUpMwlGhHSEDayc_Yz07qDOlH_WVUy7Odx77U77TfK06sph79p8XI-VctzlZXTcv5WvxHZil3aCQanTd60BK0SoQB87SVaoEOHs2gcZUhPzSYLrHPWjIxDgemOaqLrg2TjGNhCJ1bLl72DdbL0bfIsQiA4wouCO7NpDmz5vcPuXd5ezaKbDY/w400-h266/DSC_7640.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Another Lake Shore sunset, with DRC behind<br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">We had a fun evening one night dining in the resort with the three owner/managers of the resort, a South African couple and a German man, Thomas. I sat at dinner with Thomas and we exchanged travel stories, as he is also a keen overlander and explorer of the African continent. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><b><u><span style="font-size: medium;">Captivating Katavi</span></u></b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><b><u><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></u></b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEin1MkCYFFyyJk7RMC4-ct9ZjvBghsBLhNTUhCMolTrKqA1zPn0tb_EMBHbdFyIpwWLPmjA6qd42aNEauVwAe_fsrs8GnErDHs4anagjrpRDExIU9p9WD9hGMM1dygLUQo7sftjeDz5-WCDR4esAiQUfQhW-QF_phP1yaLHuN9OeKI5w59MCkn7sSLH/s2000/DSC_7686.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1333" data-original-width="2000" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEin1MkCYFFyyJk7RMC4-ct9ZjvBghsBLhNTUhCMolTrKqA1zPn0tb_EMBHbdFyIpwWLPmjA6qd42aNEauVwAe_fsrs8GnErDHs4anagjrpRDExIU9p9WD9hGMM1dygLUQo7sftjeDz5-WCDR4esAiQUfQhW-QF_phP1yaLHuN9OeKI5w59MCkn7sSLH/w400-h266/DSC_7686.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The view from our campsite in Sitalike<br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEio5A4D1ODzURMPBrA2vlwiXpLwvNb0h5QIMThL7uTtScxnTL4AJKkHU8FxuEzX9NVQ5TLRRWmuDnowf6ywSq_1zfCEWA9Ml9eit7Tgi66t4i5JvSgZwTSo436up8LYxiPC0zZrRnpdpClA_A8Yoe04utfOJ5mafjoro-FRMVIJgl10l1CrouwC_z75/s2000/DSC_7752.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1333" data-original-width="2000" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEio5A4D1ODzURMPBrA2vlwiXpLwvNb0h5QIMThL7uTtScxnTL4AJKkHU8FxuEzX9NVQ5TLRRWmuDnowf6ywSq_1zfCEWA9Ml9eit7Tgi66t4i5JvSgZwTSo436up8LYxiPC0zZrRnpdpClA_A8Yoe04utfOJ5mafjoro-FRMVIJgl10l1CrouwC_z75/w400-h266/DSC_7752.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Lioness on the track in Katavi<br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><span style="text-align: justify;">On November 30th we bid a regretful farewell to Lake Shore and headed back up the escarpment out of the Rift. It felt good to regain the tarmac and pump up our tires back to higher pressure. We thought that we would be on asphalt the entire way to our next destination, Katavi National Park, but it was not to be. At the town of Kisi, the pavement came to an end and a detour sign pointed us unexpectedly to the right. From that point on the road was hardpacked, rutted red laterite and progress became slow and shuddering. We later learned that we could have continued along the "closed" road, but we didn't know, and ended up sharing the road with a procession of trucks that were either really slow or else drove dangerously quickly. The road cut through Katavi National Park but we saw almost no animals, as we were surrounded by dense bush. It was a relief to pop out in the village of Sitalike and camp in the welcoming grounds of the Riverside Camp, run by the friendly and obliging Juma. </span><div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcAywALWX5nyvC5IQGpoROs4dPNQstNAKFg_z1ZSLjmZhdDIIrfEidLCJxGMvB4cuC6X0aq-pK4HCLzWrCGFc979crnTbwflQsziQN468bqAUhwqSuP97HvzRjxnO7FkDDvnKBda2WgspA2ILn3W-8Hj13DgMq1W5eT6Se3g_8AUCIa6l9ntG3U6Nr/s2000/DSC_7765.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1333" data-original-width="2000" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcAywALWX5nyvC5IQGpoROs4dPNQstNAKFg_z1ZSLjmZhdDIIrfEidLCJxGMvB4cuC6X0aq-pK4HCLzWrCGFc979crnTbwflQsziQN468bqAUhwqSuP97HvzRjxnO7FkDDvnKBda2WgspA2ILn3W-8Hj13DgMq1W5eT6Se3g_8AUCIa6l9ntG3U6Nr/w400-h266/DSC_7765.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Curious giraffe<br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjt2JlmQ7ONfHo75pMyVEtiX4ZGKf_YRLBdsNvtZKen9E7a1D-CZziaAxu6KSbX1gBl4jgQxf68YiRDV25tb8HZgccdc3KXOubrEjjLhNrNjQdeuKXqhd743Ix2k0ULq0qIWM3b2kNk7xCXaMqJaZhAveWlBkBxMv-iu5Msq_7b4w3T-TEfUD_J1Rq0/s2000/DSC_7912.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1333" data-original-width="2000" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjt2JlmQ7ONfHo75pMyVEtiX4ZGKf_YRLBdsNvtZKen9E7a1D-CZziaAxu6KSbX1gBl4jgQxf68YiRDV25tb8HZgccdc3KXOubrEjjLhNrNjQdeuKXqhd743Ix2k0ULq0qIWM3b2kNk7xCXaMqJaZhAveWlBkBxMv-iu5Msq_7b4w3T-TEfUD_J1Rq0/w400-h266/DSC_7912.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Intricate giraffe patterns<br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">We spent three nights in Juma's camp, and it was a memorable place to stay. The camp is on the banks of a river that is as full of hippopotamuses as it is possible to imagine. There were an easy 300 or 400 hippos within 100 metres of our vehicle, and they spent the day submerged in the river, occasionally venting frustration at pushy neighbours in a series of noisy complaints, and often opening their jaws impressively wide to show their deadly and enormous tusks. I had never spent so much time so close to so many of these ominous animals, and I spent a long time photographing and filming them, especially at dusk as they emerged to graze on land (usually on the opposite bank).</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOC1fVE7Ii6wQt06L76rbqYKt4mzp9v8sNXRpB4ipLM2nbr_1tqHIO40zOn1QvCCZ2b0EDrGvIR9NxFf0IvpilRp3plbpHGGTalxwY6mDNRzEr_tJxZFmd7Z0flz3XlmesKrv9LzM2QUxDTWxscdZjTqcRv2Czi8EtA9p7AliLa5Pa-WeRTbMZh0Js/s2000/DSC_7888.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1333" data-original-width="2000" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOC1fVE7Ii6wQt06L76rbqYKt4mzp9v8sNXRpB4ipLM2nbr_1tqHIO40zOn1QvCCZ2b0EDrGvIR9NxFf0IvpilRp3plbpHGGTalxwY6mDNRzEr_tJxZFmd7Z0flz3XlmesKrv9LzM2QUxDTWxscdZjTqcRv2Czi8EtA9p7AliLa5Pa-WeRTbMZh0Js/w400-h266/DSC_7888.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Southern ground-hornbill<br /><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjr_eF4A_hbYZOWQNE8P0Ec3KYEoe678hb64OF8gSrqAAtZu3z3e8UBy37G3MF2BxVdgV7qWvx0dvxAAt7Msi8ouHFoBYhQEBvV2CPmap5jTZEkKejxFviB_VDPjlH4w1VO02ZFUlxlpSb9UA4kQTaiyVfNbi3ttlGCdfwuICyQCuhVvUD9TUJ6O-Xi/s2000/DSC_7772.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1333" data-original-width="2000" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjr_eF4A_hbYZOWQNE8P0Ec3KYEoe678hb64OF8gSrqAAtZu3z3e8UBy37G3MF2BxVdgV7qWvx0dvxAAt7Msi8ouHFoBYhQEBvV2CPmap5jTZEkKejxFviB_VDPjlH4w1VO02ZFUlxlpSb9UA4kQTaiyVfNbi3ttlGCdfwuICyQCuhVvUD9TUJ6O-Xi/w400-h266/DSC_7772.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Southern ground-hornbill displaying<br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table></td></tr></tbody></table></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">The plan was to spend one day in Katavi National Park and then move on. However we awoke in the middle of the night to an epic downpour that lasted until noon, so we postponed our plans for another day. The next morning dawned bright and sunny, so we pulled down our roof at 7:20 am and set off for a day of safari driving. It started slowly; we had to go to the park headquarters, on the other side of the river, to pay, and when we arrived none of the staff had arrived yet, despite it being 30 minutes after opening time. I guess when you get fewer visitors in a year than Serengeti gets on an average day, you can get a bit lackadaisical. Eventually a ranger arrived, rubbing sleep from his eyes, and checked us in at such a leisurely pace that Terri nearly combusted from frustration.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpFFHPT6dZdtLDDxPThJEnyJdHyXUKzg2qp33LN253lGgeybxKkCUsy8lA3EdTGufmLoMIZpCgxuqSJ5CbqrMPtTDiHJEAp-fxgUqi6oPjzymKeHi4INl9dJ23Ds_zeM7Y0IfoBxqDbPPBQoMwrhkXBHHy0pCLznIROllhlT2Leh9_IS3i8-2TERPJ/s2000/DSC_7929.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1333" data-original-width="2000" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpFFHPT6dZdtLDDxPThJEnyJdHyXUKzg2qp33LN253lGgeybxKkCUsy8lA3EdTGufmLoMIZpCgxuqSJ5CbqrMPtTDiHJEAp-fxgUqi6oPjzymKeHi4INl9dJ23Ds_zeM7Y0IfoBxqDbPPBQoMwrhkXBHHy0pCLznIROllhlT2Leh9_IS3i8-2TERPJ/w400-h266/DSC_7929.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Roan antelope<br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">Once we had paid our US$ 118 ($30 per person, $40 for the vehicle and 18% VAT; this is the cheapest national park to visit in Tanzania, far cheaper than famous places like the Serengeti and Ngorongoro), we drove back along the dreadful truck road of the day before, and then turned off into the park and its lovely bush. The main game-viewing part of the park is the Katisunga Plain, and no sooner had we emerged onto the plain than game started to appear. At first it was a plentiful supply of giraffes (one of our favourite animals to watch), but quite soon we came around a slight bend in the track and found three lionesses lounging right in the middle of the road, bellies distended with whatever animal they had recently hunted. We sat and watched them for a long time, taking photos and videos, but the lions were not at all interested in us, or in moving. When we wanted to continue, they reluctantly got to their feet and moved a couple of metres as we edged by in Stanley. It was a memorably up-close lion encounter!</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSoVWsuFtN-6zZzswIEynZWB1W_9reL04lHMu6MvjOR81jmAwzU6WJIqqKXnZk0xNN1txDE5q9XzB-9Q7aSiTMs3ve4-KWpy3A0GzaubULcgIXuDmOooWArCn3E2OAw1eMuMb2lBDsnfrJD_uIADuIT3OD8N1cL1aHxdBOq68x4S5qOSuoxHn6fc6e/s2000/DSC_7919.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1333" data-original-width="2000" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSoVWsuFtN-6zZzswIEynZWB1W_9reL04lHMu6MvjOR81jmAwzU6WJIqqKXnZk0xNN1txDE5q9XzB-9Q7aSiTMs3ve4-KWpy3A0GzaubULcgIXuDmOooWArCn3E2OAw1eMuMb2lBDsnfrJD_uIADuIT3OD8N1cL1aHxdBOq68x4S5qOSuoxHn6fc6e/w400-h266/DSC_7919.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Topi<br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyT3awk6HYmUTWDHFG32YFaeaPv4yOXfanjPSxaD77mVUFCOKVpP69wlXJmCAiMlRZSoFkGJOHCrNIcqFsY_MaFQMTppZ83yWIhhM1skiWuHqJElkOv8Rs8HtTkE2NjjQxBg-s33kNyovTMwnFtyeRbBs9k-Od9OzqWGBq4g8DL9yiMQXKx1cMWGRt/s2000/DSC_7873.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1333" data-original-width="2000" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyT3awk6HYmUTWDHFG32YFaeaPv4yOXfanjPSxaD77mVUFCOKVpP69wlXJmCAiMlRZSoFkGJOHCrNIcqFsY_MaFQMTppZ83yWIhhM1skiWuHqJElkOv8Rs8HtTkE2NjjQxBg-s33kNyovTMwnFtyeRbBs9k-Od9OzqWGBq4g8DL9yiMQXKx1cMWGRt/w400-h266/DSC_7873.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Juvenile African fish-eagle<br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><span style="text-align: justify;">The day continued to be excellent for game viewing. We encountered numerous southern ground-hornbills, including (a first for us) some juveniles. Impala were present in great quantities, and as we moved closer to the river bank, we saw Bohor reedbuck, Defassa waterbuck, topi and typical wetland bird species such as pelicans and herons. We stopped for a snack of tea, bread and honey at the side of the track (keeping a wary eye out for any lurking predators; luckily it was a wide-open plain!), and then continued our clockwise circling of the Katisunga Plain until we ran into the impassable barrier of the river. Along the way we saw a lapwing who had picked an unfortunate spot for its nest, smack in the middle of the track, and who defended its eggs fiercely, trying to scare us off with its wide-stretched wings and harsh cries. We had to drive along the track (there was swampy ground to both sides), but we managed to straddle the nest and its tiny, precious clutch of eggs; we then had to return and repeat the process a half-hour later when we had to backtrack from the river.</span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQgPHCqA4IjnZYvswV245br8zgA484jeKMmnThchaI38RuBonblHDfJKVwbB0H5kSdElftVeThTDPHfiKG9MyKLtfogN_9dexp9urWHnYMLLuiwCFB4SxPvDZbakJhY5KqWdVLkglXATW0mCva4dmZOQN2IeKD16BCOtWfJMJLLDtz2pdUEQT4tVYW/s2000/DSC_7810.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1333" data-original-width="2000" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQgPHCqA4IjnZYvswV245br8zgA484jeKMmnThchaI38RuBonblHDfJKVwbB0H5kSdElftVeThTDPHfiKG9MyKLtfogN_9dexp9urWHnYMLLuiwCFB4SxPvDZbakJhY5KqWdVLkglXATW0mCva4dmZOQN2IeKD16BCOtWfJMJLLDtz2pdUEQT4tVYW/w400-h266/DSC_7810.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">White-browed coucal<br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">We retreated to the main track of the park and followed it out to the Ikuu Bridge, on the truck road, where we stopped to admire the sheer number of hippos and crocodiles basking in the river. There were plenty of baboons lounging on the bridge as well, along with plenty of birdlife. We left the main road and continued our way along the edge of the plain, where we were rewarded with several bird species which we had never seen before: the Tanzania red hornbill, the grey kestrel, the white-browed coucal and the grey-backed fiscal. There were a number of African fish eagles, including three juveniles (again a novelty for us). Eventually, with one eye on the clock, we turned around reluctantly and saw many of the same birds and animals on the return journey, along with our first eland in years (a small group galloped across the path and disappeared into the bush) as well as our first roan antelopes in years as well. It was wonderful to renew our acquaintances with these large, powerful and rarely-seen antelope, and we drove back to Sitalike glowing in the satisfied feeling that a good day of game driving always gives us. A snack of chips and eggs and beer in a truck stop restaurant rounded out the day, and we returned to our campsite to grill up some fine steaks.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4-QNUwahUZM0XGf8-AIPuw0TjxAb1CvAk8F6UvFI1H320gKmqG8aofQhu9PlmZffAtMTirlv5sP_8SAuOxfFhsapzkoPUGLdG3pGxzkCI1uRPkuUtPJTxIUt96JmCLUBL2dTH2SERvQjQmPs-UiKOAXODjzu5SVaFwNhXhD46XobWDMMs8VcWRat7/s2000/DSC_7931.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1333" data-original-width="2000" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4-QNUwahUZM0XGf8-AIPuw0TjxAb1CvAk8F6UvFI1H320gKmqG8aofQhu9PlmZffAtMTirlv5sP_8SAuOxfFhsapzkoPUGLdG3pGxzkCI1uRPkuUtPJTxIUt96JmCLUBL2dTH2SERvQjQmPs-UiKOAXODjzu5SVaFwNhXhD46XobWDMMs8VcWRat7/w400-h266/DSC_7931.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Still there, six hours later<br /><br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTzX3eJooBgfpHuI0oYN4yAQ8ePSErOYtsdkxeHIDOBPJrVqy1l7Oq37b4niuLv9aeed9R3wewG0AZrcfXcCQCuNhzuZugGocMA8BBKzyUPTgsrt0ykYbi0Him7ronOvS2KFFSnMJW0N10wcYmspuovDHyXIj5TKlH1j-ORQhrGoNzMSydvJwzVEsN/s2000/DSC_7941.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1333" data-original-width="2000" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTzX3eJooBgfpHuI0oYN4yAQ8ePSErOYtsdkxeHIDOBPJrVqy1l7Oq37b4niuLv9aeed9R3wewG0AZrcfXcCQCuNhzuZugGocMA8BBKzyUPTgsrt0ykYbi0Him7ronOvS2KFFSnMJW0N10wcYmspuovDHyXIj5TKlH1j-ORQhrGoNzMSydvJwzVEsN/w400-h266/DSC_7941.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Striking coloration on a frog at Riverside Camp<br /><br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><b><u>Kigoma, Ujiji and Following in Stanley's Footsteps</u></b></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><b><u><br /></u></b></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><b><br /></b></span></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitNAI7JLrTVt4jkboaMLmVWV3I3XrMVIKkPSrb7PvVOS2z0lfQs_n3ZslEE_kYz_0nTQ9MPFJRbqghE9Bn_EJGGSbjc82JPCB3d1s8RrvB0E6FRqiq4ioFAyuMyUqt9ylfRvj5FosbMG9ogBFJKMEdWRaRLqi3AAdSLv9tctvrf6n3O5D8_WtFLxfA/s2000/DSC_7943.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1333" data-original-width="2000" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitNAI7JLrTVt4jkboaMLmVWV3I3XrMVIKkPSrb7PvVOS2z0lfQs_n3ZslEE_kYz_0nTQ9MPFJRbqghE9Bn_EJGGSbjc82JPCB3d1s8RrvB0E6FRqiq4ioFAyuMyUqt9ylfRvj5FosbMG9ogBFJKMEdWRaRLqi3AAdSLv9tctvrf6n3O5D8_WtFLxfA/w400-h266/DSC_7943.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The long dirt track to Kigoma<br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><span style="text-align: justify;">From Sitalike it was a long day of driving along some rough laterite roads to reach Kigoma, our next destination. The going was slow, the distance was reasonably long (357 km) and we had to cross a range of fairly steep mountains to reach Kigoma. The forest through which we drove was often wild and dense and full of birds (parts of it were some sort of forest reserve), and I'm sure that in the future some of it will feature a wonderful campsite in the midst of untouched jungle, so that this long leg can be divided up. As it was, the sun had already set by the time we got to the centre of Kigoma, and we drove the last few kilometres out to Jacobsen's Beach, just south of town, in the gloaming. The darkness made the steep drive into the campsite even more alarming than it already is, and we were glad to turn off the ignition, pop up the roof and settle in.</span></div><div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5Srl34yd3vzL6RipWdskD-ZZSTcQxbteX40gZcdBlzhARjwNpRrMdGTQROUGlPO2Hs_Oh2V_6kAaAP1rFiRafg8cNRqAHt9ztp9_qXqWQaT8gn5vQTHjkPV1Pexs_X-bYZHpaWNDTjgPeaPdfWfSsmwOMeukL9o6aKs8pgkuY_JDxuoeOtvCUhiX-/s2000/DSC_7951.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1333" data-original-width="2000" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5Srl34yd3vzL6RipWdskD-ZZSTcQxbteX40gZcdBlzhARjwNpRrMdGTQROUGlPO2Hs_Oh2V_6kAaAP1rFiRafg8cNRqAHt9ztp9_qXqWQaT8gn5vQTHjkPV1Pexs_X-bYZHpaWNDTjgPeaPdfWfSsmwOMeukL9o6aKs8pgkuY_JDxuoeOtvCUhiX-/w400-h266/DSC_7951.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Off for a hike overlooking the lake<br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXiiOpGsOGIRLYeZ1hHj42XdWCOEuhRFJkBDOjgz_ahsFcmKeHYIL1W_NNw2gwMrt_zxeDoldaPTuW9Z59HwWFTj3Wf57bqyMn-rRXHB971aCKRfOqnUxd_Kti-4TAxGxlAyTizZKp4wUxlwLUrgsjhcBp45M7pIfzo_eY4Ke6WhgajfVNE53cWmQ7/s2000/DSC_7959.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1333" data-original-width="2000" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXiiOpGsOGIRLYeZ1hHj42XdWCOEuhRFJkBDOjgz_ahsFcmKeHYIL1W_NNw2gwMrt_zxeDoldaPTuW9Z59HwWFTj3Wf57bqyMn-rRXHB971aCKRfOqnUxd_Kti-4TAxGxlAyTizZKp4wUxlwLUrgsjhcBp45M7pIfzo_eY4Ke6WhgajfVNE53cWmQ7/w400-h266/DSC_7959.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The rocky slopes above Jacobsen's Beach<br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><span style="text-align: justify;">We loved Jacobsen's Beach. It's on the shores of Lake Tanganyika, only 6 km south of downtown Kigoma, but it feels remote, with sweeping views out over the lake that don't show any buildings; steep headlands prevent you from seeing the city from the campsite. It's an oasis of native forest, surrounded by clearcut properties, so it feels like a wildlife reserve. There's even a semi-domesticated zebra who hangs around the campsite, hoping to have his mane brushed (as the campsite staff do) but also randomly attacking campers; one camper, Lilli, was badly bitten by the zebra, while I got chased and headbutted by him. There are plenty of vervet monkeys around as well, so luckily both of the campsites have a kitchen fully enclosed by heavy-duty screens that's fully monkey-proof; the monkeys are always on the lookout for raiding opportunities, and are really quick.</span></div><div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDiOwdawWHLYoMdaqQTwkQYUKfSG_omwmkOUPe_d2bTRlrCn7C1aoBxkd7CWhDY4x7BFa--lJ1zDpjUMN_QBH_cE6mDVVdu1RWTT3lW_UFzjT6lYUz0BzWAU_ZdGwkexYA-gQAB8FG_zl8CIlUJDAowuaq4pBb4Jkl9L8nDeO--wvrLcz02BQ-F_L4/s2000/DSC_7965.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1333" data-original-width="2000" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDiOwdawWHLYoMdaqQTwkQYUKfSG_omwmkOUPe_d2bTRlrCn7C1aoBxkd7CWhDY4x7BFa--lJ1zDpjUMN_QBH_cE6mDVVdu1RWTT3lW_UFzjT6lYUz0BzWAU_ZdGwkexYA-gQAB8FG_zl8CIlUJDAowuaq4pBb4Jkl9L8nDeO--wvrLcz02BQ-F_L4/w400-h266/DSC_7965.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Lovely views out over Lake Tanganyika<br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">We ended up spending five nights at Jacobsen's, splitting our days between lounging at the campsite and going to town. When we were at Jacobsen's, we went hiking in the boulder-strewn hills above the lake, swam in the idyllic waters of the lake, took out a pedal-boat to explore nearby bays, watched birds in the trees and cooked up feasts in the kitchen. Every evening we sat on our private beach and watched the sun sink into the forests of the DRC, across the deep blue waters of the lake. It was pretty idyllic and hard to tear ourselves away from!</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjziIDrlt3Ai1hoTY5dL8oIeKf8xoYKG0b8DIshEKyvTpTCq0OhF6jYFfQledHKK_0pQ57h6w7Is_FZnEjT5ShwL5aU-35jmOAUDQb3pA6F88OFFnqREUjuXJWD68gCru4G2lX2mBGL1xEpbjDfpHVaEprX2q1PWC5-dNQFa5vh8t3yfsmC2nP0MJW1/s2000/DSC_7973.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1333" data-original-width="2000" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjziIDrlt3Ai1hoTY5dL8oIeKf8xoYKG0b8DIshEKyvTpTCq0OhF6jYFfQledHKK_0pQ57h6w7Is_FZnEjT5ShwL5aU-35jmOAUDQb3pA6F88OFFnqREUjuXJWD68gCru4G2lX2mBGL1xEpbjDfpHVaEprX2q1PWC5-dNQFa5vh8t3yfsmC2nP0MJW1/w400-h266/DSC_7973.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The stroppy zebra at Jacobsen's Beach<br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwBKBkLLxdTpvspIx9OPY1CVUrCT-XKV4UkN8e7LBWnddX1SN0clGDQ9WpihNnXxYyiijAOfT-XEsH9_YfBqex6SXWqYk9StC_RfpkM-ZEtsc3boLfr_jZuoTtzH-iZvThwpV16YpyI83YMfQPKVaZyFtcaWFPXseY3j3LbxBqJWX0_DZpb--DRHwx/s2000/DSC_7969.jpg" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2000" data-original-width="1333" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwBKBkLLxdTpvspIx9OPY1CVUrCT-XKV4UkN8e7LBWnddX1SN0clGDQ9WpihNnXxYyiijAOfT-XEsH9_YfBqex6SXWqYk9StC_RfpkM-ZEtsc3boLfr_jZuoTtzH-iZvThwpV16YpyI83YMfQPKVaZyFtcaWFPXseY3j3LbxBqJWX0_DZpb--DRHwx/w266-h400/DSC_7969.jpg" width="266" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Lake reflections</td></tr></tbody></table><span style="text-align: justify;">We had one big day in town, getting Burundi tourist visas at their consulate in town, a process that was expensive (US$ 90 per person for a 30-day tourist visa) but amazingly quick and painless. We had a big tandoori chicken lunch in an Indian restaurant in town, and then drove out to Ujiji to pay homage to Stanley's more famous namesake. It was in Ujiji, in November 1871, that Henry Morton Stanley, a young, ambitious reporter and would-be explorer, found the legendary explorer and missionary David Livingstone, from whom no news had reached England in almost two years, uttering the catchphrase "Doctor Livingstone, I presume?" We drove out to Ujiji, paid the steep US$10 admission fee and listened as an old, keen guide regaled us with his well-rehearsed spiel outside at the monument to the exact meeting spot (under a mango tree which has since fallen down, but whose descendants grow everywhere around). There were two monuments to Livingstone and Stanley, and another to Speke and Burton, who passed through Ujiji 13 years before, en route to searching for the source of the Nile. The museum is pretty modest, but did have some good maps and a rather elementary-school diorama of the meeting. It was surprisingly emotional to see this historic site given how much Stanley's Travels looks to Henry Morton Stanley. </span></div><div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhavwOpIuSEjEb6mRd84cB7jL4t1scBcExYvw-sNwOjlx7VlLb2M40v9J0ym6_3f5su_Ff7YureCC7tQb1hwl5Es9x5eRkq8czF5yQQXoLK4xz-9qkasNyvwcRL4AGmUcKb1Atx3sBbn314TKs5BjHZjPINdNOg-ld_akqae6sKuxnmGugBMBuikQ_Z/s2000/DSC_7978.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1333" data-original-width="2000" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhavwOpIuSEjEb6mRd84cB7jL4t1scBcExYvw-sNwOjlx7VlLb2M40v9J0ym6_3f5su_Ff7YureCC7tQb1hwl5Es9x5eRkq8czF5yQQXoLK4xz-9qkasNyvwcRL4AGmUcKb1Atx3sBbn314TKs5BjHZjPINdNOg-ld_akqae6sKuxnmGugBMBuikQ_Z/w400-h266/DSC_7978.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Stanley meets Stanley in Ujiji<br /><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiP2m0Iot_CXI-bGhswKceTXNSxsEdauW6eGu6Ga_vY88Bh5JSNyq7X1N1v0LbxA3pqnWG_PtpevfEmoGZWYxJGkIO8ADM1sM5R9D3UHwyDVh3v6yHyxl4JkdOUlmfBWd-PVTV_Xbl5z-C7TI8fYm4_fd3EbXTLEQwaQ0r9udFEcCgqj-h_EwiYpS8z/s2000/DSC_7984.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1333" data-original-width="2000" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiP2m0Iot_CXI-bGhswKceTXNSxsEdauW6eGu6Ga_vY88Bh5JSNyq7X1N1v0LbxA3pqnWG_PtpevfEmoGZWYxJGkIO8ADM1sM5R9D3UHwyDVh3v6yHyxl4JkdOUlmfBWd-PVTV_Xbl5z-C7TI8fYm4_fd3EbXTLEQwaQ0r9udFEcCgqj-h_EwiYpS8z/w400-h266/DSC_7984.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Myself and Terri at the Stanley-Livingstone Monument<br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><br /></td></tr></tbody></table></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">We took lots of photos and video, then headed back to Jacobsen's Beach through the run-down streets of modern Ujiji. Ujiji was the main town of the region in the late 1800s and was a centre of the slave trade, but its water sources were always dodgy, and fluctuations in the lake water levels led to the German colonial administrators choosing nearby Kigoma as their port and railhead in the region, leaving Ujiji in suburban obscurity. <i>Sic transit gloria mundi.</i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><i><br /></i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJ6O5T8P_7PvjiDOvuBENl8hc6QFXXNAQF3Zd0tWpMQnylemkY5q4TnpN5lBs9soEDeGuHXjkux8OcJe20yLV4-AFIrdym6k6RVccIVne4SOQnf2Aaaw7StEJzvSsD5l9Wg8mbL8izLHSmFwJRdVUDg71ul8YoB9MBdrBdGX73f-tH6M55cfd5Wc-C/s2000/DSC_7990.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1333" data-original-width="2000" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJ6O5T8P_7PvjiDOvuBENl8hc6QFXXNAQF3Zd0tWpMQnylemkY5q4TnpN5lBs9soEDeGuHXjkux8OcJe20yLV4-AFIrdym6k6RVccIVne4SOQnf2Aaaw7StEJzvSsD5l9Wg8mbL8izLHSmFwJRdVUDg71ul8YoB9MBdrBdGX73f-tH6M55cfd5Wc-C/w400-h266/DSC_7990.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Stanley, Terri and Livingstone in Ujiji<br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">We also took care of an important piece of bureaucratic business that was hanging over our heads. We had squeaked into Tanzania by luck when our yellow fever vaccination record wasn't checked, but we couldn't count on that continuing. We had asked in various towns along our route in Tanzania to see whether we could get vaccinated, but we had struck out every time. Kigoma, though, as a major port with a lot of Congolese traffic and passengers passing through it, has a port health officer who checks Congolese passengers for their yellow fever cards, and administers vaccines to those who haven't had it. We found him (after a long and tedious search through the back streets of Kigoma, all of which were under construction) and when he examined our vaccination certificates he said that Terri was fine as her vaccination record had no end date on it (and the WHO has stated that the vaccinations are now considered to provide life-long immunity), but that my vaccination, from the same facility in the same year as Terri's, had to be re-done since the health officer in Switzerland had written an end date on my card. I had to wait for a couple of days until there were other patients to share the vial with (each vial provides up to 5 doses). I got a message late one afternoon and raced into town in a tuk-tuk auto-rickshaw to get jabbed; it was a relief to have that taken care of.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJcCB6b046ULliVY8r_zqOgTaXXkIQzkhZb9wbHBljBj3jrWieMpO9oTHb2sJNTQX2nrW3RxjZvOsTFLHshULnnTXqR3A_KKZvqkd-jk4WZ-EEkfPZy5-QXN2Sc6_lXF-4uru80XnMrVfJLFudlrc3PIfCIxkcBHuPJOG-boBkjr3148TIZy2QOZm_/s2000/DSC_7985.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1333" data-original-width="2000" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJcCB6b046ULliVY8r_zqOgTaXXkIQzkhZb9wbHBljBj3jrWieMpO9oTHb2sJNTQX2nrW3RxjZvOsTFLHshULnnTXqR3A_KKZvqkd-jk4WZ-EEkfPZy5-QXN2Sc6_lXF-4uru80XnMrVfJLFudlrc3PIfCIxkcBHuPJOG-boBkjr3148TIZy2QOZm_/w400-h266/DSC_7985.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Another plaque at the Stanley-Livingstone meeting point<br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">We met some interesting fellow travellers in the campsite and in the cottages at Jacobsen's. The most interesting was Lilli, a German woman who has spent much of the past 30 years on the road in Africa. We swapped stories and Facebook addresses, and we have been in touch ever since for advice and to share experiences. Many other overlanders we have met also know Lilli, who is a bit of a legendary figure, and has even featured in several YouTube interviews, <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YO08GJ9R66w" target="_blank">such as this one</a>. It was a lot of fun to discuss adventures and misadventures of the road beside Lake Tanganyika.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxSr_gLhCsy2XCQi6-7qKLGlrZgnA7XMTZmCbpvps5ylp3IK6jBStmdQH3fZdFEmytzz9NomIyjFxw4aaAF6b3Fn9Um3IBUWH6bEVTWaP4SJL6QerAt-hIsqcaUhrKSxayBS5B2baAle8FhyDD1rh_O34uafIe6O0qlm2P4g2R0uTpx44F5_6lBM-C/s2000/DSC_8042.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1333" data-original-width="2000" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxSr_gLhCsy2XCQi6-7qKLGlrZgnA7XMTZmCbpvps5ylp3IK6jBStmdQH3fZdFEmytzz9NomIyjFxw4aaAF6b3Fn9Um3IBUWH6bEVTWaP4SJL6QerAt-hIsqcaUhrKSxayBS5B2baAle8FhyDD1rh_O34uafIe6O0qlm2P4g2R0uTpx44F5_6lBM-C/w400-h266/DSC_8042.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Yet another perfect evening beside the lake<br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5dYyS9bCncH5JyLglc-u0x1AoOdBFTsu0Emwfq8fhxuB62OFLMfDmqDCzKxu_2YonrKFxStNjuQ75JGeCgi6X3C99zk3U4NxnWEO_pBm_mgbbXoziF0KHTqmeYBntB95z-LpOMcAkjqx3OTlfwJXsp8kVjSAcfqIGDbAMiz6-mmOTAD3laNeb7gaG/s2000/DSC_8000.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1333" data-original-width="2000" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5dYyS9bCncH5JyLglc-u0x1AoOdBFTsu0Emwfq8fhxuB62OFLMfDmqDCzKxu_2YonrKFxStNjuQ75JGeCgi6X3C99zk3U4NxnWEO_pBm_mgbbXoziF0KHTqmeYBntB95z-LpOMcAkjqx3OTlfwJXsp8kVjSAcfqIGDbAMiz6-mmOTAD3laNeb7gaG/w400-h266/DSC_8000.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mother and kittens taking over Terri's chair<br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><span style="text-align: justify;">One of our favourite memories from Jacobsen's was made in the last two days of our stay, when a local stray cat which the staff had been feeding and who had taken a shine to us wandered into our kitchen enclosure, made herself at home in Terri's camping chair and then slipped out and under the floor of the kitchen. She returned with a tiny newborn kitten, like a fuzzy cinnamon roll, and deposited him in the chair. She made two more trips, and soon she was seated in the chair with the three blind babies crawling over her in search of milk. Terri was captivated (as was I) and we spent time making sure that the mother cat was fed and would continue to be fed in our absence. It was an unexpected touch of home, and made us miss our own ginger cat, now living with our housekeeper in Bali.</span></div><div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNVlO7BgQ_G3dZOmRioCNKd7ORuN54zVRZTtVJbV2_iVY9wPrjPD1VnXVBAWVapDwIemcX6ifBc8LFFA_zwa362KBEPnTYmOJWejzD1dLW8wF9D77uIw78j71Qrj9RBRMRC7XLMacV_j6peUMCfpEze4RNRgwpJOXGNwZSWGjpIrdXDQ_mOTFFDB6X/s2000/DSC_8028.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1333" data-original-width="2000" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNVlO7BgQ_G3dZOmRioCNKd7ORuN54zVRZTtVJbV2_iVY9wPrjPD1VnXVBAWVapDwIemcX6ifBc8LFFA_zwa362KBEPnTYmOJWejzD1dLW8wF9D77uIw78j71Qrj9RBRMRC7XLMacV_j6peUMCfpEze4RNRgwpJOXGNwZSWGjpIrdXDQ_mOTFFDB6X/w400-h266/DSC_8028.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Cinnamon buns with legs<br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><b><u><span style="font-size: medium;">Off to Burundi</span></u></b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">All good things must come to an end, however, and so it was with our time beside the mighty lake. On December 8th we packed up, said a fond farewell to the campsite and the kittens, stopped off in town to buy a few final supplies, and then drove east and then north, climbing steadily up into the cool mountains from the lowlands around Lake Tanganyika (780 metres above sea level). Within a couple of hours of leaving Kigoma, we were being stamped out of Tanzania and <a href="https://graydonstravels.blogspot.com/2023/01/what-to-know-about-visiting-burundi.html" target="_blank">into Burundi, starting a new chapter in Stanley's Travels</a> (and ticking off a new country for both of us).</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwtDxysP8yWnX1IVhGUku4DHvPeI4wHBauSCH7bs9H2JDOzSFh03FoeRHxKi3ZKPSWxyNrZvXRZ4Jv3RRotLk4jGuQGz6PPJwHOCxgMJpNyq22nr5GkFPiuWQxjMH-kTfMITv3qJkpzq1sn7WZlEh-879UyBD7T3dSDHhDcbehxYULJMjWEaRawE7z/s2000/DSC_8031.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1333" data-original-width="2000" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwtDxysP8yWnX1IVhGUku4DHvPeI4wHBauSCH7bs9H2JDOzSFh03FoeRHxKi3ZKPSWxyNrZvXRZ4Jv3RRotLk4jGuQGz6PPJwHOCxgMJpNyq22nr5GkFPiuWQxjMH-kTfMITv3qJkpzq1sn7WZlEh-879UyBD7T3dSDHhDcbehxYULJMjWEaRawE7z/w640-h426/DSC_8031.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Farewell, Lake Tanganyika!<br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table></div></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-635211973012255844.post-57543468780589104952023-01-07T10:16:00.002-08:002023-01-07T10:16:34.592-08:00What To Know About Visiting Burundi<iframe src="https://www.google.com/maps/d/embed?mid=136JF5-xHckIQxQNgrKYzY4BVxMbXc5s&ehbc=2E312F" width="640" height="480"></iframe>
<div class="separator"><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieYOigzXxuQpU3rTDYZAV-tHtJlrCLZNBLMexnF4AM54D_nlcu2bp4epcKQ_SZ5kHiMGOwJ09enO5aI-iJsVv3trDh0qVgmS52xwAIl5J5qYcTS3_8kBSi0l9PMXp2ViXfLiKG35KX37xYxnob1l4Tj2RI8JLhDyMdux3bN4sneGEKoyOM7qI7Egoj/s2000/DSC_8198.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1333" data-original-width="2000" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieYOigzXxuQpU3rTDYZAV-tHtJlrCLZNBLMexnF4AM54D_nlcu2bp4epcKQ_SZ5kHiMGOwJ09enO5aI-iJsVv3trDh0qVgmS52xwAIl5J5qYcTS3_8kBSi0l9PMXp2ViXfLiKG35KX37xYxnob1l4Tj2RI8JLhDyMdux3bN4sneGEKoyOM7qI7Egoj/w400-h266/DSC_8198.jpg" style="cursor: move;" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The green hills of Africa<br /><br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><div class="separator"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; text-align: justify;">This is
going to be a slightly different format of blog post than usual. Instead of
simply narrating our trip through Burundi, I want to structure it in terms of
giving some useful travel tips for Burundi, a country which sees very few
Western tourists, especially overlanders driving their own cars. (We met precisely zero Western tourists in our five days in the country.) When we were
getting ready to enter Burundi, we found little useful travel information
available online, so I want to try to plug that gap slightly. Here goes!</span></div><p style="text-align: justify;"></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-CA" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-CA" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;"></span></p><p></p><br /><br /><p style="text-align: justify;">
</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-CA" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;"><b><u><span style="font-size: medium;">Why go?</span></u></b><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-CA" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;">Burundi is
a small, densely settled country, but its landscape is spectacular, with
endless lines of steep mountainsides terraced right to the top. When we were
there it was the rainy season, and the vegetation was almost painfully green.
The distant views from high points are stunning, and at closer range the fields
are a striking mosaic of colours. The people are friendly and welcoming, and
since it’s a fairly obscure, little-known place, you will always discover
something unknown (to you), interesting and surprising. Burundi borders
Tanzania and Rwanda, so it’s easy to tack it on to a trip primarily focused on
one of these two countries. Besides this, if (like me) you want to visit every
country in the world, you need to come to Burundi.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-CA" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;"></span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSgQF4Zj9Bbk-vud5QWWWPAK2Unv1Qfbn2uCZukMepLsL4QntlO29mcLKOcFkEU5e5-1-5fPmFlFcBKwK_P6RiDEIAhopMHBRrYgyJSi9psE5gRCmjGoDLGOd1DuM68Ima-6hDFRIlF0FvAwIGu6aH1N7yRijxPD51w25CGS5Lew45Ic-2qNq_rqvA/s2000/DSC_8092.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1333" data-original-width="2000" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSgQF4Zj9Bbk-vud5QWWWPAK2Unv1Qfbn2uCZukMepLsL4QntlO29mcLKOcFkEU5e5-1-5fPmFlFcBKwK_P6RiDEIAhopMHBRrYgyJSi9psE5gRCmjGoDLGOd1DuM68Ima-6hDFRIlF0FvAwIGu6aH1N7yRijxPD51w25CGS5Lew45Ic-2qNq_rqvA/w400-h266/DSC_8092.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Us with a few big trees, Bururi Forest<br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-CA" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-CA" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;"><b><u><span style="font-size: medium;">Is it safe?
Should I go?</span></u></b><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-CA" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;">In the
Lonely Planet East Africa guide which I have, published in 2018, Burundi is
described thus: “The entire country is now considered unsafe to visit.” There was continued political unrest starting in 2015 and continuing for several years, connected with a power grab by
the then-president Pierre Nkurunziza, who wanted to run for president for a
constitutionally forbidden third term. Luckily Nkurunziza stepped down as
president before the 2020 election and (less luckily for him, although probably
luckily for Burundi as a whole) then died, probably of covid-19. With him out
of the way, the country has returned to some semblance of normality, and
certainly while we were in the country, we saw no indication of violent unrest
or political protest, and the Burundians we talked to stressed that the country
now felt peaceful.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-CA" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;"></span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbt40uYjlPhvkkjnj6WOci1qa0818W4ktnm4OikijVUEbYaIoXvNyRvseNR07o3CYw6PQO6k5Ahs1sfLqihEiBZ6QyEjfazeMPbcxKqLfizNAGuZIdhLtrKvDVexmTVz9FxCg8yM-qERzAcAaK4KkjvKb5roKg84j_NiFRVOtAQhP5-72AyxC5kxVj/s2000/DSC_8085.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1333" data-original-width="2000" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbt40uYjlPhvkkjnj6WOci1qa0818W4ktnm4OikijVUEbYaIoXvNyRvseNR07o3CYw6PQO6k5Ahs1sfLqihEiBZ6QyEjfazeMPbcxKqLfizNAGuZIdhLtrKvDVexmTVz9FxCg8yM-qERzAcAaK4KkjvKb5roKg84j_NiFRVOtAQhP5-72AyxC5kxVj/w400-h266/DSC_8085.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Women walking back from market through Bururi Forest<br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-CA" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;">Having said
that, the Canadian, British and US governments all advise against travelling to
Burundi. They probably know more than I do, but it did not strike me as a
country that was teetering on the brink of a return to violent chaos, or even a
country where you’re likely to be mugged on the street. It’s up to you; I felt
very comfortable travelling to Burundi in a way that I wouldn’t if I were
travelling to (say) South Sudan or Mali or Somalia.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-CA" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-CA" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><b><u>Visas</u></b></span><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-CA" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;">In the
years of political unrest from 2015 to 2020, tourist visas to visit Burundi
were very hard to come by, and I used to read accounts on the Lonely Planet
Thorn Tree of people waiting for months in hope of getting a visa, only to be
turned down in the end. This is no longer the case at all. We got a 1-month
tourist visa at the Burundi consulate in Kigoma, Tanzania, and it could not
have been easier. (The hardest thing was finding the consulate, which was in
the wrong place on Google Maps!) We walked into the consulate, talked for five
minutes with one of the consulate officials, paid our US$90 each (ouch!) in
cash, and waited for about 20 minutes. We didn’t even have to fill out a visa
form; the official did it all for us. It was all surprisingly quick and
efficient, perhaps helped by the fact that we were the only Westerners there
(there was one family who might have been Tanzanians, or perhaps Burundians
living in Tanzania, who were there when we arrived and who were still waiting
when we left).<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-CA" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;"></span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-2RTMFF42gsD_23wpT02PblPSG6PFw_kxSvYPmE5Cn_ntoW3jnyUT0OQvoX6yYGH-ZRO1rPsQdjRk4ycmpBMDymI0wncJ1NY0JZDZog_lqUHeMY8I-or0okTNME5llqjSd4TjpAL35XF7inev5iumTw153kRdjyQgf_tpKVkbuzXfZ4j7GCTnITuI/s2000/DSC_8068.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1333" data-original-width="2000" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-2RTMFF42gsD_23wpT02PblPSG6PFw_kxSvYPmE5Cn_ntoW3jnyUT0OQvoX6yYGH-ZRO1rPsQdjRk4ycmpBMDymI0wncJ1NY0JZDZog_lqUHeMY8I-or0okTNME5llqjSd4TjpAL35XF7inev5iumTw153kRdjyQgf_tpKVkbuzXfZ4j7GCTnITuI/w400-h266/DSC_8068.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">One of the thousands of loads we saw on people's heads<br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-CA" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;">We met
another couple who were overlanding to Burundi, and they went for the cheaper
option of buying a 3-day transit visa for US$40. This can be extended in
Bujumbura for a month for (I believe) another $30, but then you have to hustle
from the border to Bujumbura within those first three days. We didn’t intend to
visit Bujumbura, so we went for the easier but more expensive 30-day option.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-CA" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-CA" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;"><b><u><span style="font-size: medium;">At the
border</span></u></b><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-CA" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;">We crossed
from Tanzania into Burundi at the small mountain-top crossing at Manyovu. There
were very few travellers crossing there, and the entire process was very quick.
We had to undergo a rapid-antigen test for covid-19, which costs $15, and wait
for the results before going through immigration. There the immigration officer
seemed genuinely confused by the fact that we had gotten our visas ahead of
time, and there were a few minutes of bafflement while he kept asking us what
date we had first entered the country, and why we were coming back a second
time. We eventually showed him the receipt for our visa at the Kigoma
consulate, and the light dawned in his eyes. A quick entry stamp, and we were
free to go deal with the car.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNMPfSNw-bNG1fJ14PDfcKquMTvhSH0NLVBNi0wpAIhGrKvqxXmDbSEnEmBOYUrGQ5V4QcLEgrMdM91-qpPTV7IZJbFuS9P1eENbfGF8AtXkuGC5MeyCuYhMkbz8O1wyB8i7fwyMbxdPnu--8pSxcKTHE843B3dmSWH5nfDTmvYYMMRImjq_tBPCis/s2000/DSC_8081.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1333" data-original-width="2000" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNMPfSNw-bNG1fJ14PDfcKquMTvhSH0NLVBNi0wpAIhGrKvqxXmDbSEnEmBOYUrGQ5V4QcLEgrMdM91-qpPTV7IZJbFuS9P1eENbfGF8AtXkuGC5MeyCuYhMkbz8O1wyB8i7fwyMbxdPnu--8pSxcKTHE843B3dmSWH5nfDTmvYYMMRImjq_tBPCis/w400-h266/DSC_8081.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A rare motorcycle taxi, fully loaded</td></tr></tbody></table><p style="text-align: justify;"></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif;">Our
car is on a carnet de passage en douanes (CPD), which in theory should allow it
to enter a country without paying any sort of customs fees. This wasn’t the
case in Tanzania, where we had paid US$30 for a Temporary Import Permit (TIP)
despite having our carnet, and it proved to be the case once again in Burundi,
where we had to pay 30,000 Burundian francs (BFr), worth about US$15 at the
official exchange rate and about US$9 at the black market rate. Once we had
paid for the TIP, we were free to go, trying to remember to drive on the right
side of the road after months of driving on the left.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif;"><b><u><span style="font-size: medium;">Money</span></u></b><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFOm1Ef2IAK8iW91hEQekuTYt9U8ncd1IEJwdFF_rOjQcvgAOrytRkN-ybPF6dKxWrRVTNC7xCytzIeWIW0sxkDY2ENGSEyrAYxoSnwEiUuN89dCm5C9YKaXnk6AB9LxdvWsPbftmiuHLTArQxfjdxOEMBYj9jqUdWX7HbD2unLroKeWdpRY1dk3TM/s2000/DSC_8144.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1333" data-original-width="2000" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFOm1Ef2IAK8iW91hEQekuTYt9U8ncd1IEJwdFF_rOjQcvgAOrytRkN-ybPF6dKxWrRVTNC7xCytzIeWIW0sxkDY2ENGSEyrAYxoSnwEiUuN89dCm5C9YKaXnk6AB9LxdvWsPbftmiuHLTArQxfjdxOEMBYj9jqUdWX7HbD2unLroKeWdpRY1dk3TM/w400-h266/DSC_8144.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Red-tailed monkey, Bururi Forest</td></tr></tbody></table><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif;">At
the border we changed about 70,000 leftover Tanzania Shillings into 60,000
Burundian Francs. We had looked up the exchange rate online, and this seemed to
be a fair exchange rate to us. It wasn’t until later that day, when I tried to
change some US cash at a bank that I discovered that Burundi has a vigorous
black market for foreign currency, particularly US dollars. The bank manager
with whom I spoke told me that he couldn’t in good conscience exchange money
for me at the official rate of 2040 BFr to the USD, when the black market rate
was between 3300 and 3500. We tried to find a black marketeer in the first
couple of towns we passed through after the border (Mabanda and Makamba) but
failed miserably. We did manage to exchange some dollars eventually in Bururi,
albeit at a very poor rate (2500), with a guy running a mobile phone money
office who knew that we were desperate. A few days later in Gitega we got 3300 BFr
to the USD, which let us tank up with diesel (some of the cheapest we’ve found
in Africa if you use the black market rate, at just over 1 USD per litre).
There are no ATMs that work for foreign cards (at least not that we could
find), and since they would use the official rate, it wouldn’t be in any
tourist’s interest to do that. We saw no evidence of credit cards being
accepted anywhere: everything is in cash, or mobile money.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif;"><b><u><span style="font-size: medium;">Communications</span></u></b><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif;">We
bought a Burundi SIM card in Mabanda, the first decent-sized town north of the
border; we tried at the border itself, but couldn’t find anyone selling them.
The cards were inexpensive, and gave us 9 GB of data for about 10,000 BFr,
which was a great deal. The cellular data network is extensive and has
excellent coverage (since there are people living everywhere!), and when it
works it’s really fast, but it was constantly going on and off during our time in
the country.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><b><u>Roads</u></b></span><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtxtA7FX247sw9WGBXjQ7-3mjx-xdKZDyNEz6zcNtbw4W_oZdMix5AMml5n8w68It36Yxn7SwOj6QNLmB2ffAphNyEssldI7-O1S7Pr6C-Kyebl41WGMtmsfgPB3YGjZZosj2D3x8xC2PrUE9uMQ_X62a0_FCZngWBsCH8TtG9YlWxhimaJfDcF31R/s2000/DSC_8174.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1333" data-original-width="2000" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtxtA7FX247sw9WGBXjQ7-3mjx-xdKZDyNEz6zcNtbw4W_oZdMix5AMml5n8w68It36Yxn7SwOj6QNLmB2ffAphNyEssldI7-O1S7Pr6C-Kyebl41WGMtmsfgPB3YGjZZosj2D3x8xC2PrUE9uMQ_X62a0_FCZngWBsCH8TtG9YlWxhimaJfDcF31R/w400-h266/DSC_8174.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">RN 17, a supposed "highway"<br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif;">There
are a lot of newly paved tarmac roads in Burundi, and they are a joy to drive
on, very smooth and with essentially no traffic at all. Most of the main roads
(the Routes Nationales) are in this category. However we hit two sections of RN
that were not just unpaved, they were barely driveable tracks, heavily gullied
and really only passable on motorcycles. These stretches (from Makamba to
Bururi on RN 17 on our first day in the country, and from Kampezi to near
Gitega on RN 16) were truly dreadful, requiring carefully picking our way at 20
km/h in 4WD low-range, trying not to bottom out or damage our vehicle. There
was no warning of these terrible stretches, and we couldn’t find any
information online about which roads were in this sort of deplorable state.
Luckily we were on pavement for most of the rest of our time in the country,
but it would have been nice to know ahead of time when we were going to be on
these pistes.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif;"><b><u><span style="font-size: medium;">People
and the Economy</span></u></b><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiya06iVPmosOuk7x5wm3NrmIMaGJVqbsWJLuOYhc8N8QWLbqelTsrXg26QCYEqzQSQmTvJHT-6clNEmWhtGU4rjyHPCoCJgTXCWXrq1A_Zt1kve5n600UEhRj5OlDmM-hLXVjbffLRjovGhDTl13LJzpk_32psKgPdAGF4hi55XSUUik0sNNih70UF/s2000/DSC_8045.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1333" data-original-width="2000" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiya06iVPmosOuk7x5wm3NrmIMaGJVqbsWJLuOYhc8N8QWLbqelTsrXg26QCYEqzQSQmTvJHT-6clNEmWhtGU4rjyHPCoCJgTXCWXrq1A_Zt1kve5n600UEhRj5OlDmM-hLXVjbffLRjovGhDTl13LJzpk_32psKgPdAGF4hi55XSUUik0sNNih70UF/w400-h266/DSC_8045.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Most of Burundi's population gets around on Shank's Pony<br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><p style="text-align: justify;"></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif;">Burundi
is one of the five poorest countries on earth, according to the World Bank and
the UNDP, and it shows. It is visibly much less affluent than any of the other
countries we have passed through on this trip. One easy measure of this is the
number of motorized vehicles on the roads; there are almost no private cars to
be seen in Burundi, and only a small number of motorcycles, most operating as
moto-taxis. Most Burundians walk to get from point to point, with a few lucky
enough to have a bicycle. We watched prodigious loads of bananas, sugar cane
and wood (not to mention human passengers) being pushed uphill by wiry,
sweating velo-taxi drivers, while even more people walked, often with big loads
balanced on their heads. Some areas of the country, particularly just south of
the new capital of Gitega, are even poorer than others, with most children in
rags and houses in a dilapidated state. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPjdRJGqgE__q_A-ZP2ihyswZoyLEGD6p_PQRzpwMgtrosHyvGldyzFVgGloHDnAVsdCMrdYne-V8UQD9RTGpN7tO6LKn2ZgMaFyyjZPEtinC3aBp1oOjK-jRA84nJ1xnjOP85zKTS2q6xZ-_3EbJ3c33zgjPOwT3XSeI3-SoF-Xx3sZfzLIWq1DdR/s2000/DSC_8099.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1333" data-original-width="2000" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPjdRJGqgE__q_A-ZP2ihyswZoyLEGD6p_PQRzpwMgtrosHyvGldyzFVgGloHDnAVsdCMrdYne-V8UQD9RTGpN7tO6LKn2ZgMaFyyjZPEtinC3aBp1oOjK-jRA84nJ1xnjOP85zKTS2q6xZ-_3EbJ3c33zgjPOwT3XSeI3-SoF-Xx3sZfzLIWq1DdR/w400-h266/DSC_8099.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A young entrepreneur lugging his wares back to his village<br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><p style="text-align: justify;"></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif;">This
poverty brings about a lot of begging; we saw more begging, and more persistent
beggars, here than in any other country that we’ve driven Stanley through.
Whenever we stopped by a roadside, children and adults would hustle over to
hold out their hands and say some form of “Muzungu, give me money!” It got
tiresome, particularly if we stopped in a village and dozens of young men would
cluster around the vehicle, staring through the windows so thickly that we
couldn’t see out past them. It became psychologically challenging to deal with
this, although we had a lot less of this in towns such as Bururi and Gitega,
the new national capital.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif;">When
we got to talk to Burundians in less trying circumstances, we found them
friendly, curious about the outside world and willing to talk about politics
and the dreadful political violence that has wracked the country since
independence in 1962. Our guides in Bururi Forest and Ruvubu National Park were
both intriguing, clever, inquisitive young men who felt trapped in a system
that would likely never have any real opportunities for them. We spent an
evening dining and drinking beer with some older retired gentlemen in Bururi
and really had quite an entertaining and enlightening time. Most people speak French,
although a handful also spoke some English. Speaking French definitely made interacting
with Burundians a lot easier for us!<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><b><u>Accommodation</u></b></span><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif;">We
stayed indoors most nights in Burundi, partly because it was hard to find
places to camp, partly because it was pretty rainy, and partly because indoor
accommodation was very reasonably priced. We slept one night in a cheap and not
very nice hotel in Bururi (the Hollywood) for 12,000 BFr (about 4USD at the black market rate),
and another at a more upmarket hotel in Bururi (the Moonlight) for 30.000 BFr (about 9 USD at
the black market rate); this one had the downside of being the local watering
hole and possessing a loud stereo which made sleeping a bit of a challenge. In
Gitega we stayed at the Tamotel for two nights at 25,000 BFr (about USD 7.50),
and it was by far and away the nicest place we stayed: roomy, comfortable and
quiet, in lovely grounds full of birds and flowers. Finally we camped in Ruvubu
National Park, which cost us about 20,000 BFr (USD 6); facilities were fairly
basic and decrepit, but we were told that it was about to undergo a much-needed
renovation. The place was perfectly quiet, peaceful and full of the sounds of
the African bush, so we were quite happy to stay there.<o:p></o:p></span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOx4chdzRJWxlbdf-z3zXWr3cpqARsO2RA6W4S4EMralBpEH-sIFWpplWtQBAnht54HVzMY7usdT9AmC9TUHE1eJHBRCSM8WjyzXtvZrilsacghBfk-Ji1fq_gzVm3OzNwVVEZVApUdlbjf0zHjIjVVuw8z85HLk0yAskm3JN8y75syxKY1vNi7MwR/s2000/DSC_8189.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1333" data-original-width="2000" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOx4chdzRJWxlbdf-z3zXWr3cpqARsO2RA6W4S4EMralBpEH-sIFWpplWtQBAnht54HVzMY7usdT9AmC9TUHE1eJHBRCSM8WjyzXtvZrilsacghBfk-Ji1fq_gzVm3OzNwVVEZVApUdlbjf0zHjIjVVuw8z85HLk0yAskm3JN8y75syxKY1vNi7MwR/w400-h266/DSC_8189.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Camped at Ruvubu National Park<br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif;"><b><u><span style="font-size: medium;">Costs</span></u></b><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif;">We
ended up spending 70,000 Tanzanian shillings (about USD 25), plus USD 130 which
we exchanged on the black market, plus USD 40 for chimp tracking. All up, we
spent about USD 195 for 5 days and nights in the country, including chimp
tracking in Bururi Forest, a night in Ruvubu National Park and four nights in
various hotels, plus meals, lots of fruit, beers and a good dollop of diesel
for Stanley. It was easily the least expensive country so far on Stanley’s
Travels!<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif;"><b><u><span style="font-size: medium;">Attractions</span></u></b><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrr6AiYWs4XdPeIKIexy2eIeIJ_8CrXpQIjYKd-MWa8r-fqisRhDEhLkBvIOvnCaQ37vxbyou96nUVeSG9DB0Hg5brByObb71Xbb8eclgd4vvaQmFoOHhotp_gcDl8-m3l_0p03-MvQW7vssfAbh2mFU7dIdrYx8QJT8CXxcJnB2mU7oTMqSIQsE7S/s2000/DSC_8104.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1333" data-original-width="2000" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrr6AiYWs4XdPeIKIexy2eIeIJ_8CrXpQIjYKd-MWa8r-fqisRhDEhLkBvIOvnCaQ37vxbyou96nUVeSG9DB0Hg5brByObb71Xbb8eclgd4vvaQmFoOHhotp_gcDl8-m3l_0p03-MvQW7vssfAbh2mFU7dIdrYx8QJT8CXxcJnB2mU7oTMqSIQsE7S/w400-h266/DSC_8104.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Our lone male chimp, Bururi Forest<br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif;">For
us the highlight was definitely hiking for several hours through the
atmospheric Bururi Forest Nature Reserve in search of habituated chimpanzees.
Compared to the cost of exactly the same sort of activity in neighbouring
Tanzania, Rwanda and Uganda, it costs a pittance: USD 20 per person, less than
10% of what it costs in Gombe Stream in Tanzania or in Kibale Forest in Uganda.
We saw three chimps, two of whom ran off almost immediately, but one of whom (a
big male) sat and watched us carefully from up a tree for 15 minutes or so.
Unfortunately, about five minutes after arriving we were drenched by a tropical
downpour that soaked us to the skin, making it a less enjoyable experience than
it might have been. Still, the ranger who accompanied us was a fascinating and
enlightening character, and the forest itself is fabulous, full of birds,
enormous old trees and various species of monkeys (we spotted red-tailed
monkeys beside the track). We would highly recommend this to anyone visiting
Burundi, especially as it helps support a very minimally funded conservation effort.
Bururi Forest is located on the outskirts of Bururi Town, and you certainly don’t
have to worry about getting a reservation, as they only seem to have a couple
of visitors a week, judging by their visitors’ book.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjV-_vKJQAfGolju284ySavKeO813W6JO7arsygAZNUsiBn-RiaVaNgvo-vww2Fk1uBzparEEfl6B7_1A1-rlBQ_JHfA0Tmz9qcm7SRS6GLEtNZSXzXggyW8ADWNTCiMEf4f1PZdo6NLmtN1DxRnJY6iQz72RivuWhQxxhgF5rwvj13edSESvpHmRM/s2000/DSC_8164.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1333" data-original-width="2000" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjV-_vKJQAfGolju284ySavKeO813W6JO7arsygAZNUsiBn-RiaVaNgvo-vww2Fk1uBzparEEfl6B7_1A1-rlBQ_JHfA0Tmz9qcm7SRS6GLEtNZSXzXggyW8ADWNTCiMEf4f1PZdo6NLmtN1DxRnJY6iQz72RivuWhQxxhgF5rwvj13edSESvpHmRM/w400-h266/DSC_8164.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Terri points towards the Nile and I toward the Congo basin<br /><br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin-right: 1em;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJTkh9jMtw3-kek6sXfuWQvehVM7lurACBYPojRwOcCu58UOb47zgoZhP0NkakBPJfuSgXyv8LX1hC2AtIdfFZmLKFJxvyacxQBYgh9-PrkZuLSwmtf4k4Hqgvfg7S8q9KSmdFt3py5rUERPuZbAf5Mx47y8VMt2sriSz-3XI_xE4nR41didZBXeCZ/s2000/DSC_8159.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2000" data-original-width="1333" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJTkh9jMtw3-kek6sXfuWQvehVM7lurACBYPojRwOcCu58UOb47zgoZhP0NkakBPJfuSgXyv8LX1hC2AtIdfFZmLKFJxvyacxQBYgh9-PrkZuLSwmtf4k4Hqgvfg7S8q9KSmdFt3py5rUERPuZbAf5Mx47y8VMt2sriSz-3XI_xE4nR41didZBXeCZ/w266-h400/DSC_8159.jpg" width="266" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The very furthest headwaters of the Nile<br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><p style="text-align: justify;"></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif;">We
also found the Source of the Nile to be well worth a visit. We drove there from
Bururi and although it has cheesy elements to it (like a fake Egyptian pyramid
built up on the ridge that forms the Nile watershed, and some white ceramic
basins that catch the infant Nile waters as they emerge from the soil), it’s
actually pretty interesting and moving to realize that here, south of the
Equator, you are already feeding the mighty Nile River and that this landscape
ultimately drains into the distant Mediterranean. For 10,000 BFr (about USD 3
at the black-market rate) it’s a must-see.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif;">The
same can’t be said anymore for the Muhweza hot springs just a few kilometres from the
Source of the Nile, which were said once upon a time to be very pretty, but
which had all its surrounding forest cut down to make charcoal, leaving the
pools exposed, clogged with debris and surrounded by smouldering ruins. It was
pretty grim.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif;">We
skipped the Karera Waterfalls as the admission price was pretty steep and the
pictures looked underwhelming. Another attraction that we skipped was the Drum
Museum outside Gitega which looked interesting in videos, but again was quite
pricey.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif;">Our
final attraction was Ruvubu National Park. It was a pretty non-descript little
park, with a few waterbuck and some baboons and monkeys and buffalo, but it was
nice to see that the country is trying to rehabilitate a park that was
completely devastated during the years of conflict. Plus it was nice to get
away from the densely packed population that fills every square kilometre of
the country outside the national park.<o:p></o:p></span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCA0-v8qm5KbTVb-3Fm6jy9IM6vFJEULkuQC63cGA-i49q-mpjXyIggI9QSSWOZJ5wOb8GL76dwB6tsz3F0TTUGyykunYNqL3rSfY9Rhv0IzTMnJtKZs0vAKX-YWB-gtl0CutniphTpojkjml0Gax3g4me6MfsPyzLiEuGUMsVIz-HFoQE_Yx01w2E/s2000/DSC_8191.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1333" data-original-width="2000" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCA0-v8qm5KbTVb-3Fm6jy9IM6vFJEULkuQC63cGA-i49q-mpjXyIggI9QSSWOZJ5wOb8GL76dwB6tsz3F0TTUGyykunYNqL3rSfY9Rhv0IzTMnJtKZs0vAKX-YWB-gtl0CutniphTpojkjml0Gax3g4me6MfsPyzLiEuGUMsVIz-HFoQE_Yx01w2E/w400-h266/DSC_8191.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Baboons, Ruvubu National Park<br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><p style="text-align: justify;">
</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif;">We
never visited the former capital and main city of the country, Bujumbura.
Partly this was because of a lack of time, and partly it was because we were
loth to lose all the hundreds of vertical metres we had laboriously gained on the
way from Kigoma, and partly it was because we had seen plenty of Lake Tanganyika
already and were more interested in the highland parts of the country.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif;">For
me the biggest attraction in the country was the landscape, the impossibly
convoluted contours and mountain ridges of a country that mostly sits at more
than 1600 metres above sea level. I found the pattern of farm fields on the
steep slopes mesmerizing, and the endless vistas of serried ranks of distant
ranges were strikingly beautiful.<o:p></o:p></span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyR-1_TypToiel7Kmyl-3Et6qzu9rgrleip69DaoMv0teARW9fq6Og2t-lOchVv3yjKt3Q5bXyVjsTSXJr_-43yhLL0t99IZZ5p2k2Iwe9qV1HwrCyQd6yu_21DqDj22gtbAgHeI6SECcpSI6XWRRISRELRSCAH0YU4QADSqrm89aek786eIaEGIJE/s2000/DSC_8195.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: left;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1333" data-original-width="2000" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyR-1_TypToiel7Kmyl-3Et6qzu9rgrleip69DaoMv0teARW9fq6Og2t-lOchVv3yjKt3Q5bXyVjsTSXJr_-43yhLL0t99IZZ5p2k2Iwe9qV1HwrCyQd6yu_21DqDj22gtbAgHeI6SECcpSI6XWRRISRELRSCAH0YU4QADSqrm89aek786eIaEGIJE/w400-h266/DSC_8195.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Typical Burundian landscape</td></tr></tbody></table><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"> </p><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif;"><b><u><span style="font-size: medium;">Annoyances</span></u></b></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;">Aside from the staring and begging, we didn't really encounter much in the way of serious annoyances. We weren't really ripped off very much, and the police (about whom we'd heard mixed reports) never once tried to shake us down for money. We found it an easy-going country that didn't raise our blood pressure very much at all.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif;"><b><u><span style="font-size: medium;">Final
Verdict</span></u></b><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif;">I
am very glad that we made it to Burundi. Even if its attractions don’t measure
up to those of Uganda or Tanzania, it’s still worth seeing. It can be a bit
depressing, as not much seems to work well, and there is no real sense that the
country is developing in any meaningful way. The lives of the people we drove
past are really, really hard, and the lives of their children and grandchildren
will likely continue to be equally difficult. Still, the smiles on people’s
faces, the exotic birds and misty mountain slopes, and the feeling of being on
the Roof of Africa make it all worthwhile.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p><br /><p></p>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-635211973012255844.post-85576147086324697002023-01-04T09:59:00.003-08:002023-01-04T09:59:55.677-08:002022: Looking Back at the Year<div class="separator"><br /></div><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-CA" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;">Lake Bunyonyi, Uganda<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-CA" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-CA" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;">Somehow the ellipse has (more or less) closed on
itself after 365.24 days of orbital motion and we are once again at the end of
a year. As the years go by, I am sometimes startled by the numbers of the
years: surely I’m not that old, am I? The end of 2022 marks 23 years since I
welcomed in the millennium with my family in Cuzco Peru, and an unsettling 36.5
years since I graduated from Hillcrest High School (now sadly no longer
operational as a school, transformed into condominiums). I am far closer to the
end of my working life than to its start, and presumably well over halfway
along my mortal coil. With these thoughts in mind, it’s time to summarize what
I got up to during the past 12 months.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-CA" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;">The year started in Tuatapere, New Zealand where Terri
and I were exploring the South Island in our tiny Nissan Elgrand van named
Edmund. We would spend the first two months of the year hiking and camping our
way around that spectacular island. Highlights included Stewart Island (even if
we failed to see any kiwis), hiking in the Mount Cook area, spending five days
tramping the fabulous Rees-Dart Track, climbing up to lovely Angelus Hut in the
Nelson Lakes, ambling through the coastal wonderland of the Abel Tasman Track,
and finally strolling along the Queen Charlotte Track, eating fresh
green-lipped mussels while we intersected the path of Captain Cook two and a
half centuries earlier.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-CA" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;"><br /></span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjElZG2m5Kfr5oARyJYwyBNzWF-smykQyHM2pOps8DxEclJysAfzCvRoOl1ua499aV_EXbpWEkM9YnQA2ZyEpQF4LeYUNB8bkzVvACpgJ1pZnXvZb-qvggP3Fxzx28Z6TuL9u9f52Pxf-RYrR6TzLd9zw8_eiUJ17_QhWYxXTjG-M4Mr28lIva0WK40/s1000/DSC_2170.jpg" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: medium; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="667" data-original-width="1000" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjElZG2m5Kfr5oARyJYwyBNzWF-smykQyHM2pOps8DxEclJysAfzCvRoOl1ua499aV_EXbpWEkM9YnQA2ZyEpQF4LeYUNB8bkzVvACpgJ1pZnXvZb-qvggP3Fxzx28Z6TuL9u9f52Pxf-RYrR6TzLd9zw8_eiUJ17_QhWYxXTjG-M4Mr28lIva0WK40/s320/DSC_2170.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Near Mt. Cook/Aoraki</td></tr></tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHQmuAsprXdsq5R3OYFXyVwC-YkxiRj4ubUxq-4G69eIJe5VdCRsZjrTONSlr6Ov4YB2VUz-KzY-gFt7t3kVjHKCGiOsqMraytBXD6nmo-kg2du3_xOyljxFcPczZE4wq7Hz9gELYAlp1FX3Yzy_eOxhqDBY92r1C71eTjz0qVkdd5nldQIT1kcQWt/s1000/DSC_2545.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="667" data-original-width="1000" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHQmuAsprXdsq5R3OYFXyVwC-YkxiRj4ubUxq-4G69eIJe5VdCRsZjrTONSlr6Ov4YB2VUz-KzY-gFt7t3kVjHKCGiOsqMraytBXD6nmo-kg2du3_xOyljxFcPczZE4wq7Hz9gELYAlp1FX3Yzy_eOxhqDBY92r1C71eTjz0qVkdd5nldQIT1kcQWt/s320/DSC_2545.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">On the Rees-Dart Track</td></tr></tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-CA" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;"></span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiE4GYtEy1eBtFks2oKt07gF1AK_XJmAZs7JxJYV-t_p0q8GmNataK_KKaU9DFRLeJ0Zo8TTwhVVhMavCE0L-Dj86WFAHBqmmamiq1th2nAAgh5EDb285dGBVPl_Tq1-9Br4nC9mcVZRHdt0ONC-Pcu1edtZNlML8izKC72c0Iy98D8CenE5n9M0r-f/s1000/DSC_2894.jpg" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: medium; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="667" data-original-width="1000" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiE4GYtEy1eBtFks2oKt07gF1AK_XJmAZs7JxJYV-t_p0q8GmNataK_KKaU9DFRLeJ0Zo8TTwhVVhMavCE0L-Dj86WFAHBqmmamiq1th2nAAgh5EDb285dGBVPl_Tq1-9Br4nC9mcVZRHdt0ONC-Pcu1edtZNlML8izKC72c0Iy98D8CenE5n9M0r-f/s320/DSC_2894.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The view from Angelus Hut</td></tr></tbody></table><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-CA" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;"></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-CA" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;">From there we spent three weeks on a victory lap of
the North Island, visiting friends and family and staying indoors rather more
often than we were used to. All too soon my time Down Under was over and I was
on an airplane winging my way to Switzerland, into a world in which
covid-related travel restrictions were just a memory.</span></p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSkDHbdTb_3A_jdqRx7ocVU2i49l0M885ghCfv9ZV8XHJyet9l6kQrZDdeE1NmzEFU3TCeaTCCrHc2K9dXzdw0gEdo4wYZV0Vq6j0yl1RXEXgg_TaI5vtk0bKsG7t9QSlnZqZCId4Y_EoXFDLkCMwTcBuaPngEqG3AuZiGG9iSNheYsNwbzozgV9-i/s1000/DSC_3815.jpg" style="clear: left; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: medium; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1000" data-original-width="667" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSkDHbdTb_3A_jdqRx7ocVU2i49l0M885ghCfv9ZV8XHJyet9l6kQrZDdeE1NmzEFU3TCeaTCCrHc2K9dXzdw0gEdo4wYZV0Vq6j0yl1RXEXgg_TaI5vtk0bKsG7t9QSlnZqZCId4Y_EoXFDLkCMwTcBuaPngEqG3AuZiGG9iSNheYsNwbzozgV9-i/s320/DSC_3815.jpg" width="213" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My mom and I above Leysin</td></tr></tbody></table><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-CA" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;"></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-CA" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;">I spent nearly four months in Leysin, my old stomping
ground. My sister Audie and her husband Serge had taken their daughters Malaika
and Ellie on the trip of their young lifetimes, through South Africa and
Botswana up to Livingstone, Zambia, where they volunteered at Olive Tree Learning Centre, the community elementary school that Terri has
been nurturing for the past 15 years. This trip, for which Serge had requested
a six-month sabbatical from his teaching job, had been planned before my mother
came to live with them rather suddenly during the pandemic in 2021. My sister
Saakje spent February and March in Leysin before handing off to me. My job was
live with my mother while the family was in Africa, and it was a pleasure to be
back in my beloved Alpine village with a car, a bicycle and skis at my
disposal. I did a tiny bit of skiing at the beginning of my stay, and then rode
Serge’s racing bike all summer up and down the passes of the Swiss Alps, taking time to play a bit of tennis here and there as well (as well as going to my first live pro tennis tournament in six years, in Geneva in May), and to see my first-ever live stage of the Tour de France as it rolled right past the Leysin area. </span><span style="text-align: left;">It was an idyllic way to spend a summer.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-CA" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;"><br /></span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3CsDNs3G6lK6qJ9Rkq4n3ErieDpEuSCaPrhyGJ0jthS1ArSafUfJD1-sSXz4rJiMB3Pe1zlyONm59MIR_jhTqumHXS0mPUNd6vnQCY0TkPCVSsVmziw5fTbuXJRRzASoeUFVclq9-Q0pD2gPJBIary8b_WN4ETi97cqr1ht0u3OIFyV2PWNHCdI3F/s1000/DSC_4462.jpg" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: medium; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1000" data-original-width="667" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3CsDNs3G6lK6qJ9Rkq4n3ErieDpEuSCaPrhyGJ0jthS1ArSafUfJD1-sSXz4rJiMB3Pe1zlyONm59MIR_jhTqumHXS0mPUNd6vnQCY0TkPCVSsVmziw5fTbuXJRRzASoeUFVclq9-Q0pD2gPJBIary8b_WN4ETi97cqr1ht0u3OIFyV2PWNHCdI3F/s320/DSC_4462.jpg" width="213" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Jonas Vingegard in the yellow jersey</td></tr></tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><o:p></o:p><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-CA" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;">The reason that I had to keep an eye on my mother was
that she had entered a period of cognitive decline during the pandemic, while
she was living alone and none of us were visiting her. When Saakje finally
visited her in late 2020, it was obvious that she was going to need some assistance
in the coming years, which was why Audie volunteered to have my mother come
live with her beloved grandchildren. While I was there, it was pretty easy for
me to make sure that my mother was fine; I cooked delicious meals to encourage
her to eat enough, and played cribbage and watched movies with her. The signs
of decline were obvious, but not debilitating. All that changed the day before
I flew out of Switzerland, when she fell getting into bed and fractured her
hip. Audie has been doing a heroic job of looking after my mother since then,
but it has become a much more all-consuming duty than when I was there. It was
a precious period of time to spend with my mother while she was still very much
her old self.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-CA" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;">I spent all of August in Lipah, Bali, which has become
the closest thing that Terri and I have to a home base during our global
peregrinations. It was an idyllic time, spent kayaking, diving, swimming,
snorkelling and hiking in our little corner of northeastern Bali, as well as
getting ready for the final part of the year’s journey: a return to Stanley’s
Travels, which had been on hold for the previous two pandemic-blighted years.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-CA" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;"><br /></span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglAU2gsrpVEhHvk6C7bZPu96_i-B6e65YQ7jIQyAD4mB6TcNmI3Az0Li7ZfHLYfBOLOZyz3FrSg5STOnujE_ddz-xkkJLhHwCSwVp1gciBCJLIeA1nh8sayKO-M6lPxTDtMjjF6L3f9f49T3Piq1RMB0r0uMp-pGw9DRUCtXLht_7Bs-vnDJjsMM2V/s1000/P8250124.jpg" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: medium; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="750" data-original-width="1000" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglAU2gsrpVEhHvk6C7bZPu96_i-B6e65YQ7jIQyAD4mB6TcNmI3Az0Li7ZfHLYfBOLOZyz3FrSg5STOnujE_ddz-xkkJLhHwCSwVp1gciBCJLIeA1nh8sayKO-M6lPxTDtMjjF6L3f9f49T3Piq1RMB0r0uMp-pGw9DRUCtXLht_7Bs-vnDJjsMM2V/s320/P8250124.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A yawning rhinopias scorpionfish<br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-CA" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;"></span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6By9VDd8WlYs8R7dCJn67txRcNzb6pC4UyIl063Pt-vkpk7cvMcgD_10ErqQ9xya1VXMIBgTMGkg3Iin8TJ9ji0FjscQ1mSzEZPN23CN15Zx8WMbhRBc80nD64mrDDmA0D7SdMO3DmDl5eErx5kTL8_QZiKE4MX5Rcvwn4ZOSqqDmYJ0a6yX3noAl/s1000/P8250035.jpg" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: medium; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="750" data-original-width="1000" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6By9VDd8WlYs8R7dCJn67txRcNzb6pC4UyIl063Pt-vkpk7cvMcgD_10ErqQ9xya1VXMIBgTMGkg3Iin8TJ9ji0FjscQ1mSzEZPN23CN15Zx8WMbhRBc80nD64mrDDmA0D7SdMO3DmDl5eErx5kTL8_QZiKE4MX5Rcvwn4ZOSqqDmYJ0a6yX3noAl/s320/P8250035.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A rare paddleflap rhinopias scorpionfish</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-CA" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;"></span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibDSdo9Xj3y4z9euWe6RLjyzPRwef17tSiZle0eh7tVeaz_X23GLuMOfhWFTrCbEAMmYDA2LrVaxalfPJhw4urOepLtL_66RAdYcR6BrufvsECzMPFy5RcYECxm1ByCL-VpRd2rkXlMVy0Xjdla51w4913xLCI8OXu2qnaZRl6Nc7AFOZ7fi69HM8v/s1000/DSC_4594.jpg" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: medium; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="667" data-original-width="1000" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibDSdo9Xj3y4z9euWe6RLjyzPRwef17tSiZle0eh7tVeaz_X23GLuMOfhWFTrCbEAMmYDA2LrVaxalfPJhw4urOepLtL_66RAdYcR6BrufvsECzMPFy5RcYECxm1ByCL-VpRd2rkXlMVy0Xjdla51w4913xLCI8OXu2qnaZRl6Nc7AFOZ7fi69HM8v/s320/DSC_4594.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I never get tired of this view from our terrace!</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><br /><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-CA" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;"></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-CA" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;">In early September I flew to Cape Town, where Terri
joined me a week later. We spent a couple of weeks getting Stanley back into
driving shape after four years in storage, and then drove out of Cape Town on
October 2<sup>nd</sup>, headed (we hoped) for Switzerland, up the east side of
the African continent. We set a quick pace north to the Kalahari, stopping to
look at meerkats and other wild creatures in the Kgalakgadi Transfrontier Park,
and then heading up to northern Botswana to visit Drifter’s Camp, Planet
Baobab, the ethereal Makgadikgadi Pans, amazing Elephant Sands and finally
Chobe National Park. We then crossed to Livingstone, Zambia to spend three
weeks working with Olive Tree Learning Centre, the first time Terri had been
there in three years (and the first time I’d been there in five and a half!).<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br /><span lang="EN-CA" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;"></span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjitX4CedkCgf__XGg_rfUKfCJVdigfd7bIgebAs7rYsbHm7qbQmgVYhILV5HWY-ox7pWsnIvNNiOZbeSZMxkaoGrV7NQM29eHd0kZozhOZNIcVpZv5uiCBPMYai4qqijxxjnIUaIkkN_deEW5WeIyvUsRShAoScRNKxtXLeJsmvJgdXnJBMlXirptD/s1000/DSC_4833.jpg" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: medium; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="667" data-original-width="1000" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjitX4CedkCgf__XGg_rfUKfCJVdigfd7bIgebAs7rYsbHm7qbQmgVYhILV5HWY-ox7pWsnIvNNiOZbeSZMxkaoGrV7NQM29eHd0kZozhOZNIcVpZv5uiCBPMYai4qqijxxjnIUaIkkN_deEW5WeIyvUsRShAoScRNKxtXLeJsmvJgdXnJBMlXirptD/s320/DSC_4833.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">At the southernmost point of Africa<br /><br /><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAqx8C5NVCLNew8aZQebpR41RY55p7j_2hS2pMkhuWLA7G63vxpXUoszNV9F1AxaI6Hufl7gSwLLq1jfJNVd_gVatm7-VUcjgcDRgtP-NH0D1g2AYlwkijC17tDuNx-aqk7_lTLxMuUD2WNTY9fydKTMry6DgH78ytaPZKB-Ed5nu96Fjz2EGQVvFm/s1000/DSC_5316.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1000" data-original-width="667" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAqx8C5NVCLNew8aZQebpR41RY55p7j_2hS2pMkhuWLA7G63vxpXUoszNV9F1AxaI6Hufl7gSwLLq1jfJNVd_gVatm7-VUcjgcDRgtP-NH0D1g2AYlwkijC17tDuNx-aqk7_lTLxMuUD2WNTY9fydKTMry6DgH78ytaPZKB-Ed5nu96Fjz2EGQVvFm/s320/DSC_5316.jpg" width="213" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Meerkat!!<br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table></td></tr></tbody></table><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-CA" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;"></span></p>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgK7ctl__j0vzePrbFSeWPbjMHzKIbMWEUNDJmZD_uQbVMOuKxAzm1AaDrT0nCW8J_we7Gkx0PAb4tNTo0Yu3c5KQOkAYBeMPBoXj0gyvohDyaPFWwMz-S9s_rkTBTmvrU9Ac5Wk_d_4mw/s1000/DSC_5731.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="667" data-original-width="1000" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgK7ctl__j0vzePrbFSeWPbjMHzKIbMWEUNDJmZD_uQbVMOuKxAzm1AaDrT0nCW8J_we7Gkx0PAb4tNTo0Yu3c5KQOkAYBeMPBoXj0gyvohDyaPFWwMz-S9s_rkTBTmvrU9Ac5Wk_d_4mw/s320/DSC_5731.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Stanley in the Makgadikgadi Pans</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg93rRsK5lVEsFNySKsF7d4OWxffhD24wnagXck-6XgjT-uUXk7lr13MpRBTHhV7Jrc5l6_0JYmjpCiT2P8dbFue067QTWIr1Ne3hQtss-ko8UngeIDekN2Tl9L5vWkx0OR9hgIuUOCxT4/s1000/DSC_5956.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="667" data-original-width="1000" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg93rRsK5lVEsFNySKsF7d4OWxffhD24wnagXck-6XgjT-uUXk7lr13MpRBTHhV7Jrc5l6_0JYmjpCiT2P8dbFue067QTWIr1Ne3hQtss-ko8UngeIDekN2Tl9L5vWkx0OR9hgIuUOCxT4/s320/DSC_5956.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Elephant Sands<br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFpK6ARCIT2unsWuQq4aVLVlGv47pa0mZu2KmUMe6edFXA4RR1_RJKf2SCeUs4K-URIjTSZzJDAGRFikiCXJnSuvW8B0iUjTaj5RJwmCL9xQIo8LRN-jwflJEz_3dDfNezwuevqL6wdrcs4hvNacmabQYZsEqIy-iClx0FMma3RFJlbDID-t8VbcIg/s1000/DSC_6684.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1000" data-original-width="667" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFpK6ARCIT2unsWuQq4aVLVlGv47pa0mZu2KmUMe6edFXA4RR1_RJKf2SCeUs4K-URIjTSZzJDAGRFikiCXJnSuvW8B0iUjTaj5RJwmCL9xQIo8LRN-jwflJEz_3dDfNezwuevqL6wdrcs4hvNacmabQYZsEqIy-iClx0FMma3RFJlbDID-t8VbcIg/s320/DSC_6684.jpg" width="213" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">One of our star OTLC students<br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjovtOFM0LFVJTTbqDee9b4WLHnEt7dVampJIaSSr6KLkyW3Ut7Opa8K8DPHlxYFqDWQQZs2ZS4k6FCEOOu6G0Ezzj4jTYsOakrGfGRS69VOmbX79UIdBv7AGRoTWEu_BHTbtNGtjeb5xgVNCyL7Z6e0M2TlwEe2NzDh6WTIseDwiEd_TMTzMKYIqxa/s1000/DSC_6926.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="667" data-original-width="1000" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjovtOFM0LFVJTTbqDee9b4WLHnEt7dVampJIaSSr6KLkyW3Ut7Opa8K8DPHlxYFqDWQQZs2ZS4k6FCEOOu6G0Ezzj4jTYsOakrGfGRS69VOmbX79UIdBv7AGRoTWEu_BHTbtNGtjeb5xgVNCyL7Z6e0M2TlwEe2NzDh6WTIseDwiEd_TMTzMKYIqxa/s320/DSC_6926.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">More OTLC students with new bookbags<br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-CA" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;">The time flew by in Livingstone, and before we knew it
our time was up and we were driving north, visiting two favourite spots of
particular loveliness from our previous travels (Kasanka National Park and
Kapishya Hot Springs) and one spot new to us which made us both fall in love
with the place (Mutinondo Wilderness). Kasanka let us see the massive bat
migration (the largest mammalian migration on earth), Mutinondo gave us the
opportunity to hike, canoe and swim on our own in African miombo woodlands, and
Kapishya was a great place to relax and catch up on our video editing
endeavours.</span></p>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgx0MctgDaweDAsJP6OR5OieXP2bNmEa9tB2OzvGDCcb16k3_tLAXZxdV1e0-6TvdLSV87vYzf82oNxJH9GelukwmU3hqFihyO1TWDXi89lLdZGFG_4cPNdaKgmECsQRZ1k9D_qumlbDNjMs6lkS_2WldNwrd1G494MuI_ssmerAOndZHpBPAGDEc8n/s2000/DSC_7163.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2000" data-original-width="1333" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgx0MctgDaweDAsJP6OR5OieXP2bNmEa9tB2OzvGDCcb16k3_tLAXZxdV1e0-6TvdLSV87vYzf82oNxJH9GelukwmU3hqFihyO1TWDXi89lLdZGFG_4cPNdaKgmECsQRZ1k9D_qumlbDNjMs6lkS_2WldNwrd1G494MuI_ssmerAOndZHpBPAGDEc8n/s320/DSC_7163.jpg" width="213" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Going batty in Kasanka</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1rejHOBCVTdhn5NOBtkcJ9sOoCT862vl5HNaECUsjJgEyotenJNSeSnx1GUNOWTtyVQ9ilnfRVg8eJAxXJRIocg8XMuJhNm8ephrFR-ZX35DFL77TjWe6vb4UDy12LO3v_rRozHOm73luTJ4iBdmawjg3ESnOpbK5iG_nWRDFe5c3RqvJ8SvMClit/s2000/DSC_7382.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1333" data-original-width="2000" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1rejHOBCVTdhn5NOBtkcJ9sOoCT862vl5HNaECUsjJgEyotenJNSeSnx1GUNOWTtyVQ9ilnfRVg8eJAxXJRIocg8XMuJhNm8ephrFR-ZX35DFL77TjWe6vb4UDy12LO3v_rRozHOm73luTJ4iBdmawjg3ESnOpbK5iG_nWRDFe5c3RqvJ8SvMClit/s320/DSC_7382.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mutinondo Wilderness<br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-CA" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;">From Kapishya we have been on the move steadily
northward towards the Equator. We drove up the west side of Tanzania,
paralleling mighty Lake Tanganyika and visiting the outstanding Katavi National
Park; it was a return to a country that I called home in 1981-2, although we
were far from my former town of Morogoro. Then we raced through the tiny
countries of Burundi and Rwanda, seeing chimpanzees in the wild and grinding
Stanley over endless steep mountain slopes. We arrived in Uganda a week ago and
have so far stuck to the southwest corner, at Mgahinga National Park and Lake
Bunyonyi. We plan to move northward up the west side of the country, visiting
as many national parks and nature reserves as possible, before turning east to
Kenya.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-CA" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;"><br /></span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhzssfhQui_BF7NyRfdi9XB-Mt8G4ZbXb05ckAzOKMbOrnFV60dUWudI9E0QJ51Fj8sNTEcJyLDUCz3phC25Lp_RANKMqxxNBwHqabm6zr5TpoSeLOjYHrTcLF2i7b0WR9BIL9fBVLzwxPIraytjjuqsZO6I6Ob14H1ICMKxrNuw6TgqjObpxN4U4V/s2000/DSC_7752.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: medium; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1333" data-original-width="2000" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhzssfhQui_BF7NyRfdi9XB-Mt8G4ZbXb05ckAzOKMbOrnFV60dUWudI9E0QJ51Fj8sNTEcJyLDUCz3phC25Lp_RANKMqxxNBwHqabm6zr5TpoSeLOjYHrTcLF2i7b0WR9BIL9fBVLzwxPIraytjjuqsZO6I6Ob14H1ICMKxrNuw6TgqjObpxN4U4V/s320/DSC_7752.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Lioness in Katavi</td></tr></tbody></table><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-CA" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;"></span></p>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbyHYnqD2NNCZSBFmafEUkOH-C-_SvZEOfEQ3mW8XjJysUpPgwaKszsqSQLVPqYM6aHqI8AfAWsX3uujyjazHHJzMsMOub4bvQqckL3fSqvlxgEi6NAZqHCtu4pXwacEsCuYWXnw0MsAJKAdLjVWa3D-N6fFfUAKu3VXRHD6yc2qTLIucmM7jOFoIY/s2000/DSC_8031.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1333" data-original-width="2000" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbyHYnqD2NNCZSBFmafEUkOH-C-_SvZEOfEQ3mW8XjJysUpPgwaKszsqSQLVPqYM6aHqI8AfAWsX3uujyjazHHJzMsMOub4bvQqckL3fSqvlxgEi6NAZqHCtu4pXwacEsCuYWXnw0MsAJKAdLjVWa3D-N6fFfUAKu3VXRHD6yc2qTLIucmM7jOFoIY/s320/DSC_8031.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mighty Lake Tanganyika</td></tr></tbody></table><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-CA" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinr0M11uWa5vZOQiVO0gd6x4N2ShOqqQk7pkam7bCBv0xZzRiU7ajrF8ZOlA0ijGQhhAaZ9jQE-pSD_YNohWto2XddjQ52GTCcDTDdtBzMB2N6CSluFmIVcu15Dh6IfGQgQs_QQb3Izg-2WE81fpGGt85GQ8z6nSVj-FaC_tvTHaCst8SpjcRjTcRb/s2000/DSC_8104.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1333" data-original-width="2000" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinr0M11uWa5vZOQiVO0gd6x4N2ShOqqQk7pkam7bCBv0xZzRiU7ajrF8ZOlA0ijGQhhAaZ9jQE-pSD_YNohWto2XddjQ52GTCcDTDdtBzMB2N6CSluFmIVcu15Dh6IfGQgQs_QQb3Izg-2WE81fpGGt85GQ8z6nSVj-FaC_tvTHaCst8SpjcRjTcRb/s320/DSC_8104.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A wild chimpanzee in Bururi Forest Reserve, Burundi</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiai4cfJnpFicR9OSs7S7UQfna5EY0zaCyl6nS_UgrbmpiR4im__23TjcXaBovNdQcZI6CTyGR_Xj2Lp-9iioUYvIcdR85AocCG-b76fJClXUv1Gpc0IaneMdJt5I31n4EUpZ129WTdmL4T3jSBdcf_GVbK0hCQxXObg2xmNn70wUGaevl-XQiXlvck/s2000/DSC_8164.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1333" data-original-width="2000" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiai4cfJnpFicR9OSs7S7UQfna5EY0zaCyl6nS_UgrbmpiR4im__23TjcXaBovNdQcZI6CTyGR_Xj2Lp-9iioUYvIcdR85AocCG-b76fJClXUv1Gpc0IaneMdJt5I31n4EUpZ129WTdmL4T3jSBdcf_GVbK0hCQxXObg2xmNn70wUGaevl-XQiXlvck/s320/DSC_8164.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">At the southernmost source of the Nile, Burundi</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggpOwVUvA6bXj6s7KzID42ySjxvFUz5lKNZs0b56fBpSQWPcgB-FK59CuSeWZziNDLu1z9YXc_hvBEbexhPeyrlxl14809m08EvC-6SoE5z5dYF_SsvmdKy6WNe7Y-sI1VyAZ9BdqEnnJz_gYJ0eu4J_6DtLFegiU6fAJ3dMzjcUZLEU_gMxxoimQ7/s2000/DSC_8270.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1333" data-original-width="2000" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggpOwVUvA6bXj6s7KzID42ySjxvFUz5lKNZs0b56fBpSQWPcgB-FK59CuSeWZziNDLu1z9YXc_hvBEbexhPeyrlxl14809m08EvC-6SoE5z5dYF_SsvmdKy6WNe7Y-sI1VyAZ9BdqEnnJz_gYJ0eu4J_6DtLFegiU6fAJ3dMzjcUZLEU_gMxxoimQ7/s320/DSC_8270.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The green hills of Rwanda</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkpRbfjUFmpehcExXnJSdpj7_JtGAZHeswl_oGN4RRKULKwGXT1aNR1iK6amBwOx4K3lY6x-_MF3nJGljs6bZycOyyHhRMe3KScu5Yd0GIxZogrQQo5yp2mvf_2KaZT7TrTJLjRr5u98aNVwuNqZUrXiEYyBFB85k2TFrKKmIf2zt0C8lQYR5gy0nZ/s2000/DSC_8467.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1333" data-original-width="2000" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkpRbfjUFmpehcExXnJSdpj7_JtGAZHeswl_oGN4RRKULKwGXT1aNR1iK6amBwOx4K3lY6x-_MF3nJGljs6bZycOyyHhRMe3KScu5Yd0GIxZogrQQo5yp2mvf_2KaZT7TrTJLjRr5u98aNVwuNqZUrXiEYyBFB85k2TFrKKmIf2zt0C8lQYR5gy0nZ/s320/DSC_8467.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Lake Bunyonyi, Uganda</td></tr></tbody></table><br />2022 has been an outstanding year in terms of travel,
although strangely I have only added two countries (Burundi and Rwanda) to my
life list. Terri and I have had the chance to see plenty of nature, do lots of
hiking and other active travel pursuits, and set a leisurely, sustainable pace
for our journeys. We also launched our Stanley’s Travels YouTube channel (if
you haven’t yet subscribed, please do so! You can follow along our journey
through the wonders of video.) We are looking forward to an action-packed 2023
as well, continuing on our way around the African continent, either up the east
side or (if Ethiopia doesn’t change its new customs regulations for cars) back
to South Africa and then up (or down) the west coast of Africa.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-CA" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;">I hope that you, my faithful readers, have had a
successful, healthy and satisfying 2022, and that 2023 is even better. I will
post again soon about our African trip in more detail, and in a year’s time I
will once again try to summarize the year that was.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-CA" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;">Peace and Tailwinds!!<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-CA" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;"><br />
Graydon<o:p></o:p></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-635211973012255844.post-83735394364986435662022-12-01T08:34:00.006-08:002022-12-01T08:34:58.093-08:00Zambia: A Journey of Two Halves<p>
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</p><p><br /></p><p style="text-align: justify;">Kapishya Hot Springs, Zambia (completed at Lake Shore Lodge, Kipili, Tanzania)</p><p style="text-align: justify;">Terri and I are sitting between a swiming pool and a river here at idyllic Kapishya Hot Springs, <a href="https://graydonstravels.blogspot.com/2017/04/stanleys-travels-in-review-top-12.html" target="_blank">one of our favourite spots</a> from our 2016-17 edition of Stanley's Travels. We are planning to spend a couple of days here before starting the drive north to Tanzania, and it seems as good a place as any to take stock of our time in Zambia so far, which has been sharply divided between almost three weeks spent in one spot (Livingstone), followed by a couple of weeks of moving northward and seeing sights along the way. <br /><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><b style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Our Livingstone Interlude</span></b></div><p style="text-align: left;">Our time in Livingstone was not at all focused on travel or seeing the sights. Livingstone is familiar territory to me, and even more so to Terri, who has been coming to Livingstone regularly for the past 15 years. She first came in 2007 to scout out the possibilities of running a service trip for students from Kumon Leysin Academy in Switzerland (KLAS), the school at which she was teaching. She found a worthwhile project, at <a href="http://olivetreelearningcentre.com/" target="_blank">Olive Tree Learning Centre (OTLC)</a>, and brought students from KLAS to OTLC almost every year for a decade. The students would spend much of the academic year fundraising and preparing for the trip, which was a very intense week-long immersion in the reality of building up a school in one of the most impoverished neighbourhoods of Livingstone, the township of Ngwenya. For many of the Japanese students on the KLAS team, it was a life-changing experience, opening their eyes to the hardships and challenges that children in much of the developing world face.</p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoBmtCuVsAs2Tjghv2VpBd0dYhE6zfaZoTYGDJMC-ntCjukc6cwgTetqMAbvugC_za1i-XYTt87pXwxSakDH41MiSMV6olSydfW2DqECHxFW6jZlwpyDbB-CdQ5XD2P5EvvaWUZehVKLgHTySvnmS1GMbxu2nCgoIPoSEH2JuNrZQ4Tx9SpKRj7qnP/s6000/DSC_6552.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="6000" data-original-width="4000" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoBmtCuVsAs2Tjghv2VpBd0dYhE6zfaZoTYGDJMC-ntCjukc6cwgTetqMAbvugC_za1i-XYTt87pXwxSakDH41MiSMV6olSydfW2DqECHxFW6jZlwpyDbB-CdQ5XD2P5EvvaWUZehVKLgHTySvnmS1GMbxu2nCgoIPoSEH2JuNrZQ4Tx9SpKRj7qnP/w266-h400/DSC_6552.JPG" width="266" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">One of our young stars<br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><p style="text-align: justify;">I was on the final KLAS student trip to OTLC in 2016, and have visited several times since then. When KLAS stopped sending student trips, funding the school became a much bigger challenge which has occupied a great deal of Terri's time and energy and focus over the past six years. Because of the covid pandemic, it had been three and a half years since Terri had last been to Livingstone, so there was a lot of catching up to do. The school has expanded steadily since its inception as a pre-school with 15 pupils, and in 2021 it graduated its first grade 7 class, sending most of them off to high school, an outcome that most parents would not have dreamed of a decade ago. OTLC now has 420 students, and is in constant flux, building new classrooms, hiring new teachers and trying to incorporate technology into the classroom. It's a constant struggle finding funding, although this past year has seen a big uptick in the number of people from around the world willing to sponsor an OTLC student for US$10 a month (<a href="http://olivetreelearningcentre.com/child-sponsorship/" target="_blank">click here </a>if you might be interested in joining them). </p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-ZsXLucKHVeSMCD7vpUZ5hDNhUU76Pr4Qr1gXyFj8ZdFBWrc8LzoOvwmJRHcLiDopo53ATMpSGh3AqLqno5AeSiS6XjMAPnYW3N46hERW-GOuA16a_N_zER2QiHO1hhOR8cVYu8rBvTvCkEcZ0Tq9mjOsLgnKa8rJjnN_NBWzaA0cWyte8Wz8A78v/s6000/DSC_6569.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4000" data-original-width="6000" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-ZsXLucKHVeSMCD7vpUZ5hDNhUU76Pr4Qr1gXyFj8ZdFBWrc8LzoOvwmJRHcLiDopo53ATMpSGh3AqLqno5AeSiS6XjMAPnYW3N46hERW-GOuA16a_N_zER2QiHO1hhOR8cVYu8rBvTvCkEcZ0Tq9mjOsLgnKa8rJjnN_NBWzaA0cWyte8Wz8A78v/w400-h266/DSC_6569.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Class performance of poetry<br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><p style="text-align: justify;">This time around both Terri and I were struck by the maturity and eloquence of some of our students, especially compared to my first visit six years ago. It's gratifying to see that all this effort and fund-raising is paying off in terms of successful outcomes for our young learners.</p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifwO6varO1e7D1uLkCC3jYKEM76hU3adjYrP_wp8ECHzWFTzzl57dIBoRRO4kdYH5qZ6yQTxe5Iev9Ud5968h6IqQAYm_UvkNd4pFV1zrm_CqIfQhDMfiqPgnnxA9JqPjic06XYuUvcjNN2LEcUFiwSABS-O_s2oOp70nXmNDy6-6EK6qAYD3i1ELR/s6000/DSC_6590.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="6000" data-original-width="4000" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifwO6varO1e7D1uLkCC3jYKEM76hU3adjYrP_wp8ECHzWFTzzl57dIBoRRO4kdYH5qZ6yQTxe5Iev9Ud5968h6IqQAYm_UvkNd4pFV1zrm_CqIfQhDMfiqPgnnxA9JqPjic06XYuUvcjNN2LEcUFiwSABS-O_s2oOp70nXmNDy6-6EK6qAYD3i1ELR/w266-h400/DSC_6590.JPG" width="266" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Wonderful Zambian flag outfit<br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><p style="text-align: justify;">We also had a team of visitors from the United States drop into OTLC, bearing some welcome educational supplies. Brian Bohne, the team leader, is a friend of ours who has worked in Leysin at the LAS summer school several times, and who visited us in Georgia back in 2018. He brought three of his high school friends from Minnesota, along with his son Bryce and a Zambian friend, and the OTLC students and staff pulled out all the stops to give performances of song, dance and poetry. It was a high-energy, memorable day, and left our visitors with unforgettable memories.</p><p style="text-align: justify;"><br /></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRCGPNlYqMzYIGTmcAxJlOfttgk91FwR1nzH0uyDzVTnSmxVn0ZNm3XPOQF7NG_8oiVExI3Ldgc9Dl18ewtuu3upM6NwwR1xobJ56LIADPX-Q4NKA7con1tWiaA-NBv9sdrXr9WOwAAsWrb8EixgoPVaerL1fPMcAGpzhBpLW6ew33-SDhING5KM86/s6000/DSC_6744.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4000" data-original-width="6000" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRCGPNlYqMzYIGTmcAxJlOfttgk91FwR1nzH0uyDzVTnSmxVn0ZNm3XPOQF7NG_8oiVExI3Ldgc9Dl18ewtuu3upM6NwwR1xobJ56LIADPX-Q4NKA7con1tWiaA-NBv9sdrXr9WOwAAsWrb8EixgoPVaerL1fPMcAGpzhBpLW6ew33-SDhING5KM86/w400-h266/DSC_6744.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Brian Bohne and his team of volunteers with some OTLC folks <br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><p style="text-align: justify;">Our time in Livingstone flew by, and before we knew it almost three weeks had passed. There were a lot of bureaucratic steps to be endured to bring the school's structure up to date with the Zambian authorities, new classrooms to be commissioned, meetings with the school's headmistress and business manager to hash out future plans for the school, and a long-simmering deal to buy another piece of land for the school's future development. When we weren't scrutinizing budgets or making sure that sponsors were receiving reports on how their children. were doing, Terri and I managed to get out to a local gym fairly regularly to do some weightlifting, or visited 10th the Royal Livingstone Hotel to enjoy sunset over Victoria Falls. </p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg90Afo497Z_uC4HVxKz1YpyZy1JU-lNSi77dbdeR4UEJOKHikqK2SniDL2gfTS0TbONbdC7gVsZ1vbCacB1OlcGnKw9SS8ZUUhoJG05gmjD73wyNp4VzXT62wJ7g1_Re0HC5tZlz1PTP14JXamn1J_Nrt2AAs-0BAcBHFVqpQvvsGrXzr0NDga-ND4/s6000/DSC_6684.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="6000" data-original-width="4000" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg90Afo497Z_uC4HVxKz1YpyZy1JU-lNSi77dbdeR4UEJOKHikqK2SniDL2gfTS0TbONbdC7gVsZ1vbCacB1OlcGnKw9SS8ZUUhoJG05gmjD73wyNp4VzXT62wJ7g1_Re0HC5tZlz1PTP14JXamn1J_Nrt2AAs-0BAcBHFVqpQvvsGrXzr0NDga-ND4/w266-h400/DSC_6684.JPG" width="266" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Gift, one of the sixth graders<br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><p style="text-align: justify;">We also nipped over the border to visit the Zimbabwean town of Victoria Falls, which I had never seen before. We stayed with a Zimbabwean friend, Courtney, who showed us the community development project she is running, the Jafuta Trust; Terri and I were envious of the resources available to them to create a state-of-the-art community centre, with adult education, sewing and welding workshops and a well-engineered children's playground constructed largely out of old tires. </p><p style="text-align: justify;">We camped in the grounds of the Tabonina Bis guesthouse, a stately spot full of mature trees. Most of the time it was quiet, although it was used as a base for long rafting trips and was a hubbub of activity inbetween for a few days. We got used to our base in the middle of Livingstone, and it was hard to pry ourselves away from it on November 10th.</p><p style="text-align: justify;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><b><span style="font-size: medium;">Back on the Road</span></b></p><p style="text-align: justify;">We drove out of Livingstone mid-morning on Thursday, November 10th, and in retrospect it would have been a good idea to leave earlier in the day. It was a fairly uneventful trip most of the way, through dry, sparsely-inhabited countryside at first, but eventually passing through greener, more agriculturally productive areas until we joined the main road from Harare, Zimbabwe. At this point traffic got a lot heavier and we crawled into town slowly in a mass of heavy transport trucks. As we got into the city the roads got more and more congested and we were stuck in the worst traffic jams of our trip so far. It took hours to crawl through town and out the other side to our guesthouse, and we arrived in pitch blackness, tired and irritable from dealing with big-city traffic. We ordered a pizza and were in bed very quickly.</p><p style="text-align: justify;">We spent all of Friday running errands in Lusaka, and much of Saturday morning as well. We were successful in most of our tasks, with the major achievements being obtaining COMESA car insurance for all the countries north of Zambia, and getting our malfunctioning solar power system diagnosed and repaired. It turned out that there was a short circuit between the solar controller and the battery which had burned out the controller. We had a new controller installed and finally saw our solar panels start to recharge our battery, a relief as we will have mains electricity less and less frequently as we head north, leaving us dependent on our batteries.</p><p style="text-align: justify;">We finally tore ourselves away from the prosperous shopping malls of Lusaka by mid-afternoon on Saturday, November 12th and drove north along a horrible highway. It was clogged with endless lines of heavy trucks headed north to the copper mines of the Zambian Copperbelt and of DRC's Katanga Province. The trucks had, over the years, deformed the road with their tires into a series of long ruts separated by high ridges, making for challenging driving. We were headed for Kabwe, but the heavy traffic slowed us down and we arrived in the dark, after a futile search for a camping spot on a local farm that we never found in the dark. The night was full of millions of flying termites who had erupted from the soil with the recent rains, and it made for eerie driving. We finally found a room at a roadside "lodge" (more of a motel) next to a truck parking area, gobbled down some goat stew and were in bed early, glad to be under a solid roof as a titanic downpour raged all night.</p><p style="text-align: justify;">We awoke to find Stanley covered with discarded termite wings. We drove off, with less traffic but still the same terrible road surface, stopping from time to time to stock up on vegetables being sold beside the road; I was particularly excited by enormous mushrooms being sold by young children which we ended up grilling that evening. We also picked up 1.5 litres of delicious honey near Kapiri Mposhi; we had bought honey there six years ago and had spent years reminiscing about how good it was. I'm pleased to say that our memories were completely accurate: it's some of the tastiest, most floral honey I've ever had! At Kapiri Mposhi the road split, with truck traffic continuing north while we headed west on a blissfully smooth and open road. Just past Serenje the smooth pavement came to an end in a series of immense potholes, bringing progress back to a crawl. It was a relief to turn off the truck road and north towards Kasanka National Park, where we camped on the park boundary at the Community Education Centre.</p><p style="text-align: justify;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><b><span style="font-size: medium;">Batty About Kasanka</span></b></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><b><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></b></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"></span></b></td></tr></tbody></table><b style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2kfFv4_chONq8hgQ9mXt72JaKFpGfW6uSjgU0_SWNTAaOg6mShC0PfL52416chKcErckfc8Sp6jX-GKL_R0LZn00rEKmLUqL0YQu8XzDK5bA1lgM6Vwnb-T5_wBmyr3cne76nf9QvXs9nrd5syZninW3LVO3U4FcICvuYM7cbdUBR4MeWVKHvPVKy/s6000/DSC_7243.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4000" data-original-width="6000" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2kfFv4_chONq8hgQ9mXt72JaKFpGfW6uSjgU0_SWNTAaOg6mShC0PfL52416chKcErckfc8Sp6jX-GKL_R0LZn00rEKmLUqL0YQu8XzDK5bA1lgM6Vwnb-T5_wBmyr3cne76nf9QvXs9nrd5syZninW3LVO3U4FcICvuYM7cbdUBR4MeWVKHvPVKy/w400-h266/DSC_7243.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I think this is a light-coloured sitatunga doe<br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table></span></b>We had <a href="https://graydonstravels.blogspot.com/2016/09/the-wonders-of-northern-zambia.html" target="_blank">spent time in Kasanka back in 2016</a>, and had really enjoyed it. Kasanka is a small park lacking in lions and the rest of the Big Five, but rich in more obscure species such as the sitatunga antelope and the puku antelope. It also has some great campsites, and is small enough to explore thoroughly in a couple of days. We were excited to be there at the right time of year to witness the migration of millions of straw-coloured fruit bats who gather from all over Central Africa every year between October and December.<div><br /><b style="text-align: justify;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguKQWE5WUrZRctSDx1uCAxyho4fFhnYTGKYrGV7mo-FF6RhkGn8031XxPm99h5EUqusdMtBApvcVhP-LICnUVb12X2pWLh64rripCV6CtsfqNiQZ1FBrhFVU5pSUQkNKywNZfzuMnCWvo-dliNpkT39tDZXJwgRQC1DiI1LQs_K5Jwzk_wjeebzKzA/s6000/DSC_7154.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="6000" data-original-width="4000" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguKQWE5WUrZRctSDx1uCAxyho4fFhnYTGKYrGV7mo-FF6RhkGn8031XxPm99h5EUqusdMtBApvcVhP-LICnUVb12X2pWLh64rripCV6CtsfqNiQZ1FBrhFVU5pSUQkNKywNZfzuMnCWvo-dliNpkT39tDZXJwgRQC1DiI1LQs_K5Jwzk_wjeebzKzA/w266-h400/DSC_7154.JPG" width="266" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The bats seemed to rise from the horizon<br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table></b><div><p style="text-align: justify;">We spent a while at the Wasa Lodge, birdwatching from their back terrace which overlooks Lake Wasa, before proceeding to our campsite at Kabwe. We set up camp, had a big lunch and then set off to see the bats. We had been told that they started to leave their roosts around 4 or 4:30 pm, but this proved to be untrue; the first bats started to fly overhead at around 6:00 pm. The initial individuals and small groups rapidly swelled, and within five minutes the sky, already losing light since the sun had set twenty minutes earlier, was further darkened by millions of bats flying overhead in unimaginable numbers. It seemed unreal, a trick of computer graphics, with bats seeming to rise out of the earth at the horizon in an infinite stream. It was an awe-inspiring spectacle, and we spent a long time just staring up in silence, before remembering to take photos and videos. The bats were mostly silent, but we could hear the wind over their wings, as they weren't that high above us. Just as we were reaching sensory overload, the numbers began to dwindle, and by 6:25 it was all over. A guide told us that GPS sensors attached to some bats have shown that on the average bats fly 50 km from the 1-square-kilometre Fibwe bat forest every night to feed, returning 50 km in the pre-dawn hours; some bats have been recorded as flying twice as far in a night. We drove back to camp in the dark, trying to spot some nocturnal species as we drove; we had to be satisfied with an elephant shrew.</p><p style="text-align: justify;"><b></b></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9uD-DJOdrnvyzVV6KL-CfF_GG-VQMtUM0zCciWW-tfKg1eqpkQdtpJaXr1qY7A626masbZGoXKNA1HVt8Ld745OQReMMaUgV0zIyDTTtM6TjnNXe-o7HYF7qcGQzyZYxXfHmaw_vFDcLwQF9XUw9k4aWy_hHwEr98vIrzuEubw953PsFqR30n15X4/s6000/DSC_7163.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="6000" data-original-width="4000" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9uD-DJOdrnvyzVV6KL-CfF_GG-VQMtUM0zCciWW-tfKg1eqpkQdtpJaXr1qY7A626masbZGoXKNA1HVt8Ld745OQReMMaUgV0zIyDTTtM6TjnNXe-o7HYF7qcGQzyZYxXfHmaw_vFDcLwQF9XUw9k4aWy_hHwEr98vIrzuEubw953PsFqR30n15X4/w266-h400/DSC_7163.JPG" style="cursor: move;" width="266" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Bats filling the sky</td></tr></tbody></table><p style="text-align: justify;"><b style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium;"></span></b></p><p style="text-align: justify;">We had a lazy morning in camp the next day. Our campsite had a nice view out towards the Kasanka River and we could see dozens of puku, their reddish-gold coats shining in the sun. An elephant wandered by in the middle distance, but we couldn't see any of the shy and reclusive sitatunga antelope that are a Kasanka specialty. We went for a game drive in the afternoon and didn't see any sable antelope (our target for that day), although we saw lots of puku and an assortment of interesting birdlife, including a lovely African cuckoo, a woodland kingfisher, a racquet-tailed roller, some wooly-necked storks and a few saddle-billed storks. We were back in camp early, in time for sundown and a delicious steak dinner, before hitting the sack early in order to see the morning return flight of the bats.</p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8IE7SsvC3hShssAJPsKjlRAmzHQQ4VVPu4STFFQycQKS0dPju4KjOVBg_GZYrQEszCi6D9Riz5mB8Xtz7CrbI7adgT7d7m4jyzfimYdmpID5erllm347GiIWuNXXHXeX4KSs-dJtcggd8FMA7UHIRAti3IcSKlx2BCYW-3EKLVbFtp7cA9lK1ViKI/s6000/DSC_7218.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4000" data-original-width="6000" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8IE7SsvC3hShssAJPsKjlRAmzHQQ4VVPu4STFFQycQKS0dPju4KjOVBg_GZYrQEszCi6D9Riz5mB8Xtz7CrbI7adgT7d7m4jyzfimYdmpID5erllm347GiIWuNXXHXeX4KSs-dJtcggd8FMA7UHIRAti3IcSKlx2BCYW-3EKLVbFtp7cA9lK1ViKI/w400-h266/DSC_7218.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Puku buck in full flight<br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><p style="text-align: justify;">Our alarm went off at 4:00 AM and by 4:18 we were driving towards the hide. The first light of dawn was already in the sky (sunrise was at around 5:15) and as we approached the bat forest, we realized we were too late at 4:50; the last bats were flying overhead as we were in the car, and by the time we had parked and walked to the viewing area, it was all over except for a few stragglers. It was disappointing (we should have gotten up at 3 AM, not 4!), but at least it gave us lots of time to look for sitatunga, the shy and hard-to-spot semi-aquatic antelope who are Kasanka's other attraction. We had seen two on our previous visit in 2016, but this time, driving along the Kasanka River, we saw two dozen or so. Most fled once they saw us, bounding into the water and hiding in the dense reeds, but we saw a number out grazing who didn't seem too bothered by us. We were able to see enough individuals that we could appreciate the wide range in coat colour from dark brown (almost black) to Bambi-coloured. The males are impressive with their twisted horns, while the babies we watched were amazingly agile, leaping through the water to keep up with their parents. We returned to camp satisfied with our sitatunga, if not our morning bat-watching.</p><p style="text-align: justify;"><b><span style="font-size: medium;"></span></b></p><p style="text-align: left;"></p><p></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyqxH8JC4DtPtX53aPPcvSdGJ9L7KwJAGDpg3qmrE55eRKxn_KYbvepBCTwo_XINXctRqbPo7kiuLff2K8P0UzNq7YeP2KCnq5uyo4huFxjK8FSujJPh90p-bsiJWmj1L_QWWzkuiBNwo-CckTCntqTsqAUdQZpFXp-0R4BmBLhduN493lN3a2SmAI/s6000/DSC_7293.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4000" data-original-width="6000" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyqxH8JC4DtPtX53aPPcvSdGJ9L7KwJAGDpg3qmrE55eRKxn_KYbvepBCTwo_XINXctRqbPo7kiuLff2K8P0UzNq7YeP2KCnq5uyo4huFxjK8FSujJPh90p-bsiJWmj1L_QWWzkuiBNwo-CckTCntqTsqAUdQZpFXp-0R4BmBLhduN493lN3a2SmAI/w400-h266/DSC_7293.JPG" style="cursor: move;" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Dark-haired sitatunga parents and their light-coloured offspring</td></tr></tbody></table><p style="text-align: justify;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><b><span style="font-size: medium;">Marvellous Mutinondo</span></b></p><p style="text-align: justify;">From Kasanka we drove back south to the main truck route and its vehicle-swallowing potholes and incessant heavy-goods traffic. The road led through small roadside clusters of truck stops and bars, some of the poorest and most unappealing places we had yet seen in Zambia. Thankfully it was only 125 km or so before we turned off and found ourselves on a well-maintained dirt track leading to our next destination, Mutinondo Wilderness; it was so smooth that we didn't even bother to lower our tire pressures, which we do on almost all dirt roads for a smoother ride. Much sooner than expected we pulled into a lovely campground, popped up the roof and started exploring.</p><p style="text-align: justify;"><br /></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQh3u2MWV0u4yxHrgGt3MRQX1MwH6cK5aUftjmEzLK1rnIcTZ8gE0uRAW-Q1BVtUjeZQRoR6j1fc5mrFmOyNxuQK9gcBLvhHPEDG6Dp9K0Qd5wkMyRgoo8bhxY7WSXDtFJyuJ9EQ2CXveRtgjEPgHyYDg2c4NEvkeUNHCfdsaweVJXgb-8LOtaDkxN/s6000/DSC_7375.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4000" data-original-width="6000" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQh3u2MWV0u4yxHrgGt3MRQX1MwH6cK5aUftjmEzLK1rnIcTZ8gE0uRAW-Q1BVtUjeZQRoR6j1fc5mrFmOyNxuQK9gcBLvhHPEDG6Dp9K0Qd5wkMyRgoo8bhxY7WSXDtFJyuJ9EQ2CXveRtgjEPgHyYDg2c4NEvkeUNHCfdsaweVJXgb-8LOtaDkxN/w400-h266/DSC_7375.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sweeping views out over the plains from the top<br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><p style="text-align: justify;">Mutinondo was a place which I had heard a lot of good things about back in 2016, but we had been in a bit of hurry and hadn't visited then. It turned out to be a case of good things coming to those who wait. Mutinondo is a fabulous place to stay for anyone who likes the outdoors and either hiking or mountain biking. Started in 1995 by Lari and Mike, a Zambian couple who fell in love with this area and secured a lease on a huge block of wilderness. The area is covered with pristine miombo woodland, dotted with dambos (marshy open spaces) and granite monoliths that rise steeply above the forests, and dissected by pristine streams that carve through the landscape in a series of pools and small waterfalls. Lari and Mike have established some 60 km of signed walking trails that allow travellers to explore the area on foot completely independently. The forest is full of plants and birds; Lari has co-authored a two-volume book on the plant life of Mutinondo (a highly impressive labour of love), while it is also a bird- and butterfly-watching hotspot. There are no lions or leopards in residence, but there are lots of antelope, including roan and sable, as well as klipspringers who bound up the steep granite walls at the first sign of humans.</p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoErmyBBRfTDmWqqKbN4JiIpTPiR6IsgMil94rOBz66TLvzKQfYQFqvhtPh-lC_0kgLJgqTTxHOr5gJh0eGBlhm2Oa79L-kKHBywUwTV6-16ml7qAkDb2T1UveKTgTKwktMjnWB5s-yveRKqTkWbA9fuGLmS753D2IrD7B1SEXJWFUIvAJSk5By73B/s6000/DSC_7348.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4000" data-original-width="6000" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoErmyBBRfTDmWqqKbN4JiIpTPiR6IsgMil94rOBz66TLvzKQfYQFqvhtPh-lC_0kgLJgqTTxHOr5gJh0eGBlhm2Oa79L-kKHBywUwTV6-16ml7qAkDb2T1UveKTgTKwktMjnWB5s-yveRKqTkWbA9fuGLmS753D2IrD7B1SEXJWFUIvAJSk5By73B/w400-h266/DSC_7348.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Atop a Mutinondo monolith<br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><p style="text-align: justify;">We ended up spending four full days at Mutinondo. It was a perfect spot for us to get some exercise after a week spent doing a lot of driving. We ended up climbing eight of the ten monoliths nearest the main lodge; they were steep and hard work in the humidity, but gave sweeping views across the landscape, which seemed to be an unbroken carpet of virgin forest, with almost no signs of human settlement. Mutinondo is part of a long wildlife corridor stretching from the Bangweulu Wetlands south through Kasanka towards Mutinondo and beyond to the wildlife meccas of North and South Luangwa National Parks. We felt privileged to have the chance to spend time in such a beautiful landscape, so little touched by human activity. </p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdqHv_xf8yoXCprJVvxJQfQfrpl_jEGA9sekJs8tTvYQfGiMXXSQCJl6XR_5IOcuOvDF9qNC0uifBaLmjmjyG9VaPPe16PdyVwYMVfgr7GMHzYwxVjGYD2fkV8BmZml9_dKiO8tvdJwdEblMgn8vQelaNG4uK8THZ5gNZTph_Fza1zuSrGHttto8W7/s6000/DSC_7357.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4000" data-original-width="6000" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdqHv_xf8yoXCprJVvxJQfQfrpl_jEGA9sekJs8tTvYQfGiMXXSQCJl6XR_5IOcuOvDF9qNC0uifBaLmjmjyG9VaPPe16PdyVwYMVfgr7GMHzYwxVjGYD2fkV8BmZml9_dKiO8tvdJwdEblMgn8vQelaNG4uK8THZ5gNZTph_Fza1zuSrGHttto8W7/w400-h266/DSC_7357.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mayense, the highest of the Mutinondo peaks<br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><p style="text-align: justify;">In addition to hiking 15 km a day, we also spent some time paddling an old canoe along a long level stretch of river, through reedbeds and under overhanging trees, looking for kingfishers and other birds. When the light was right, it was almost painfully lovely, and we floated along in a haze of sensory overstimulation. We also ended every hike with a dip in one of the many swimming holes, adding to the sense of perfection.</p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLzNNyBGk0MparoWa88ydHiXDJCZsftBxUECWGvySZ3HnqrByiS3l7iXyiqh9j74lQ-jHpPKw3mSP3UD3IUG9_eIsL9WYoKYnXQl_RWn7DJam7NuMKFV7AuAdy1YWDcXg3cyQ7Ux6OLHDR6MKbJsaPe5iZI6X53G3ZF9Gc2A8JiQSm-tIoSaD21Ppp/s6000/DSC_7309.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="6000" data-original-width="4000" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLzNNyBGk0MparoWa88ydHiXDJCZsftBxUECWGvySZ3HnqrByiS3l7iXyiqh9j74lQ-jHpPKw3mSP3UD3IUG9_eIsL9WYoKYnXQl_RWn7DJam7NuMKFV7AuAdy1YWDcXg3cyQ7Ux6OLHDR6MKbJsaPe5iZI6X53G3ZF9Gc2A8JiQSm-tIoSaD21Ppp/w266-h400/DSC_7309.JPG" width="266" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Cooking in our potjie over the fire in Mutinondo<br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><p style="text-align: justify;">One our last full day in Mutinondo, we didn't try to hike too far or up too many peaks. Instead we broke out Terri's new guidebook to reading the signs and tracks of African animals. Using it we were able to identify tracks of sable antelope, the droppings of sable, roan, baboon, civet, white-tailed and yellow mongoose and klipspringer, as well as the diggings of mongoose and aardvarks. The forest floor was scarred by enormous numbers of aardvark dens and feeding sites where these nocturnal excavating machines had demolished termite mounds in search of food. It was an eye-opening experience and made us feel (for a few minutes) like experienced game trackers!</p><p style="text-align: justify;">The campsite was well-designed as well; although there were a few other campers in residence, we were barely aware of their existence, sheltered as we were by trees. We watched the sunset almost every afternoon from the deserted bar perched atop a west-facing rock outcrop, and cooked on wood fires in our campsite, sitting out afterwards to sip wine and try to spot nocturnal birds and creatures (we managed to spot no fewer than four bushbabies (lesser galagos) on one memorable night walk). It was hard to pull ourselves away in order to continue our onward journey; Mutinondo will live on in our memories as one of our favourite spots in all of southern Africa.</p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiY7W52zECgi2vH4wLTp1XwqvkQ9uYOCDtjdoizKIS2Htzcw26uKeConkU96LieCMffh02uSfNn-CSl8mkMRryyFDQrh_O7_iGPks_0EMvLXmMr2iE00fYjdyDLhLSmawdtriD9Hfm8aYEOgjBzo6mA9FujAR9-ndz4znpbgSm0J2tmLTxPAVuOvOpt/s6000/DSC_7460.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4000" data-original-width="6000" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiY7W52zECgi2vH4wLTp1XwqvkQ9uYOCDtjdoizKIS2Htzcw26uKeConkU96LieCMffh02uSfNn-CSl8mkMRryyFDQrh_O7_iGPks_0EMvLXmMr2iE00fYjdyDLhLSmawdtriD9Hfm8aYEOgjBzo6mA9FujAR9-ndz4znpbgSm0J2tmLTxPAVuOvOpt/w400-h266/DSC_7460.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A perfect swimming hole for the end of a hike<br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><p style="text-align: justify;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><b><span style="font-size: medium;">Hot Spring Haven at Kapishya</span></b></p><p style="text-align: justify;">Our last major destination in northern Zambia was another old favourite from 2016, Kapishya Hot Springs. We drove our final stretch of the infernal truck route, dodging Tanzanian fuel tankers driven by homicidal maniacs, stopping for fuel and supplies in the small city of Mpika. We hadn't tanked up in Serenje when we had the chance, and had watched our needle steadily heading towards empty as we drove on through a long stretch of road devoid of gas stations; good thing that Stanley's fuel tank holds 150 litres of diesel! From Mpika we turned off onto the Old Great North Road, with fewer potholes and almost no traffic, before turning onto a rough track that leads 45 km to Kapishya.</p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifCKX9V4loTFJpxSqdRMJtWI6wwHRMf8i1wNcHRvUHLqvBxSqBMk3ZYw7g8Qi9JKQVxTkDux0COKQPK_C5qQ52rjxrA2FwY_VQQfMnsYMBfvKroERCGVphNvTKjmpcGI1OLKqW7l2wYf_dE9rzjyAfpFF_REg4EDT4cHOIHEplQj0tMMU3zgyB6buo/s6000/DSC_7607.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4000" data-original-width="6000" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifCKX9V4loTFJpxSqdRMJtWI6wwHRMf8i1wNcHRvUHLqvBxSqBMk3ZYw7g8Qi9JKQVxTkDux0COKQPK_C5qQ52rjxrA2FwY_VQQfMnsYMBfvKroERCGVphNvTKjmpcGI1OLKqW7l2wYf_dE9rzjyAfpFF_REg4EDT4cHOIHEplQj0tMMU3zgyB6buo/w400-h266/DSC_7607.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Kapishya<br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><p style="text-align: justify;">Kapishya is a great place to camp, with good facilities (like electrical power, lacking at Mutinondo) and the bliss of hot springs in which we immersed ourselves several times a day. It's also a wonderful place to birdwatch, with Ross' Turaco the most spectacular species. Mostly, though, we took a few days to edit videos for our YouTube channel, trying to get several weeks ahead of the game and use the decent wifi to upload our finished products. It worked well, as we are now a month ahead and are getting into the groove of editing.</p><p style="text-align: justify;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><b><span style="font-size: medium;">Running For The Border</span></b></p><p style="text-align: justify;">From Kapishya, from which we pried ourselves after four nights, it was time to get serious about reaching the Tanzanian border before Terri's visa ran out (I had extra days from going to Zimbabwe one day for some money-changing, and having my visa reset for another thirty days). It was a long slog back to the Old Great North Road and then north to the major city of Kasama for some resupplying (it even had a Shoprite supermarket, something we hadn't seen since Kapiri Mposhi) before carrying on to the final town in Zambia, Mbala. We stayed indoors at a small lakeside lodge (Lake Chila Lodge), then set off the next morning for a 20-kilometre rumble along a gravel road to a tiny border crossing at Kasese. We were nervous at the crossing since we had recently discovered that both of us had had our most recent yellow-fever vaccination more than ten years ago. In theory this meant that we could get rejected from entering Tanzania, but we were in luck: the immigration guy checking health records only looked at the outside of our little yellow booklets and of our covid vaccination records, checked our temperatures, and then let us go. Phew! We now need to find someplace to get another yellow fever jab since we probably won't get so lucky at future border crossings!</p><p style="text-align: justify;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><b><span style="font-size: medium;">Final Thoughts on Zambia<br /></span></b><br /></p><p style="text-align: justify;">So much of what we did during our five weeks in Zambia was revisiting familiar haunts, although Mutinondo was a wonderful new revelation. Zambia is always fun to visit, although it's definitely more expensive than the countries further south like Botswana, Namibia and South Africa. Parts of the country are quite prosperous, especially along the central transport corridor running from the Zimbabwe border north to Lusaka and continuing towards the Copperbelt; big commercial farms are interspersed with smallholder plots who all seem to be prospering growing for the market. Lusaka is a thriving city (with terrible traffic jams!) that has so much more prosperity than anywhere else in the country. Livingstone seems much less thriving in comparison, although Ngwenya township is definitely less desperately impoverished than it was when Terri started working with OTLC fourteen years ago. Northern Zambia is still noticeable less developed than the rest of the country, but it also hosts jewels like Kasanka and Mutinondo. </p><p style="text-align: justify;">The new government of Hikainde Hichilema (HH) seems to have turned the mood of Zambia in a more positive direction than the tired old corrupt regime of Edgar Lungu, but life is still a struggle for many poorer Zambians like the parents of OTLC students. </p><p style="text-align: justify;">One thing that we would love to see would be a concerted effort to repair the asphalt highways which have been systematically destroyed by the pounding of truck tires since our last visit in 2017. Driving the main highway from Lusaka to Tanzania is a miserable and dangerous experience, and we were overjoyed to escape from it to cross the border at Kasese rather than the main border post at Nakonde.</p><p style="text-align: justify;">We might well be back in Zambia in a few months unless Ethiopia changes its crazy rules about driving one's own vehicle into the country. If so, we will visit the one great attraction that remains on our Zambia to-see list: South Luangwa National Park. We shall see; much can change in a few months.</p><p style="text-align: justify;"><br /></p><br /><p style="text-align: justify;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><br /></p></div></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-635211973012255844.post-46794781338280507172022-10-26T11:38:00.001-07:002022-10-26T11:38:10.063-07:00Embracing YouTube<p style="text-align: justify;"> Livingstone, October 26</p><p style="text-align: justify;"><br /></p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxSGe29lD96iYvoc5w_8opTfiL3H05nlN04owpZ2lJ8CRxHHNe_OPPwzqPgsCAO-vvnmfwoJe8w15gjR8KJyFvDqG4TiivLGqx0MK_R45DD0IpZPo9zgYKj6OYHNdANPh2eJL0cQZmSEU3XbvezMHztuh-uOb7pf5HJSl-RPcjV6CzxM5Yy8hZ9Ux3/s1000/DSC_5116.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="667" data-original-width="1000" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxSGe29lD96iYvoc5w_8opTfiL3H05nlN04owpZ2lJ8CRxHHNe_OPPwzqPgsCAO-vvnmfwoJe8w15gjR8KJyFvDqG4TiivLGqx0MK_R45DD0IpZPo9zgYKj6OYHNdANPh2eJL0cQZmSEU3XbvezMHztuh-uOb7pf5HJSl-RPcjV6CzxM5Yy8hZ9Ux3/w400-h266/DSC_5116.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">D-Day from Cape Town!<br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><p></p><div style="text-align: justify;">Just a quick post here to try to convince you to watch <a href="https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCyaqdj8wj8Omge72yxI8UkQ" target="_blank">our Stanley's Travels YouTube channel.</a> We decided before resuming Stanley's Travels that we would embrace YouTube and try producing our own video this time. I'm used to taking photographs, but video was a foreign country to me up until now. Luckily Terri is a keen YouTube watcher and has schooled me on what is needed to produce a good, enjoyable video. We've been hard at work (video editing takes far more time than photo editing!) and have finished a number of videos so far, covering <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JMrHd-vPBPo" target="_blank">the run-up to the trip</a>, <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=t4C-MMvghho" target="_blank">our time in Cape Town</a>, <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lPYvvLAxbwM" target="_blank">our trip to Hermanus and Agulhas</a> and now (finally!) <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mPtfh6sPmNY&t=2s" target="_blank">our definitive departure from Cape Town headed north</a>. Please give the videos a watch, like, subscribe, comment and tell your friends! It would be sad for us to make these videos and have almost nobody watch them.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9LTLBIZx80bsnVvkAd9suWp8fU4Y2UoJDlF-WlMfJ_Mr40sxfVXc1sdUFVG2mNdUOg2NHJeI01G9RR7liJWvIBvuIPeo2GjXHzdbv_q--w4MWk0DEx_7Z9JzHSYprvHv0zURLrZOhekwax2lFOnpzqwQM5U1sIDNoSmZzWofbHqgUxSb0IsMEBtHd/s1000/DSC_5157.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="667" data-original-width="1000" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9LTLBIZx80bsnVvkAd9suWp8fU4Y2UoJDlF-WlMfJ_Mr40sxfVXc1sdUFVG2mNdUOg2NHJeI01G9RR7liJWvIBvuIPeo2GjXHzdbv_q--w4MWk0DEx_7Z9JzHSYprvHv0zURLrZOhekwax2lFOnpzqwQM5U1sIDNoSmZzWofbHqgUxSb0IsMEBtHd/w400-h266/DSC_5157.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The road north across the Karoo</td></tr></tbody></table><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLXsscRmkVpJZgB1o4IPJUDwUwTI10FTOkK4vMTF-jGj4n5Xf5uoUKJqrwHafU3pvdMURsjKP5D-nrjVDY0okdyHKiBKskO6G0Yyh3bLCb9jqQWn_PGnGSXbD9o3dqWhlLCfyI3-JxLTeVR8F0VVhiidMCAjKB38SDvY7GW_AVedYXUjORU9r7xJTq/s1000/DSC_5128.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="667" data-original-width="1000" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLXsscRmkVpJZgB1o4IPJUDwUwTI10FTOkK4vMTF-jGj4n5Xf5uoUKJqrwHafU3pvdMURsjKP5D-nrjVDY0okdyHKiBKskO6G0Yyh3bLCb9jqQWn_PGnGSXbD9o3dqWhlLCfyI3-JxLTeVR8F0VVhiidMCAjKB38SDvY7GW_AVedYXUjORU9r7xJTq/w400-h266/DSC_5128.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The purple flowers that lined the road north</td></tr></tbody></table><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">So click here to watch <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mPtfh6sPmNY&t=2s">our latest video (driving north out of Cape Town towards the Kalahari)</a> or else <a href="https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCyaqdj8wj8Omge72yxI8UkQ" target="_blank">click here to find our channel</a>. And stay tuned: new episodes should drop weekly, on Wednesday mornings (European time).</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyX8Ptq-hK5RAbukvrZQ31cI84sttDnUWiubkbRCCd51o3tVJSxkN10PE3b2_wsNAHc6oplgAnf0-ecVeeSAs123jwhWnFaU6VAF1dubVs9ZsydnTLOINy7z_dcu_T7VNXnGX4N4emHXTuya7PDUc5wRdekHZL1QV8gIqUVzjNe-pWWTYn4cP158tw/s1000/DSC_5183.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="667" data-original-width="1000" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyX8Ptq-hK5RAbukvrZQ31cI84sttDnUWiubkbRCCd51o3tVJSxkN10PE3b2_wsNAHc6oplgAnf0-ecVeeSAs123jwhWnFaU6VAF1dubVs9ZsydnTLOINy7z_dcu_T7VNXnGX4N4emHXTuya7PDUc5wRdekHZL1QV8gIqUVzjNe-pWWTYn4cP158tw/w400-h266/DSC_5183.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The flowering desert</td></tr></tbody></table><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"> </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiG4oUY0MWx4aNkiMq4BfzXopxwLb38r5KWFSMbQUD4htuu-qWVOEQnXv19VSBNVPDSc5z3PbkpkFUI2opDcT35TlNWpdm9fPduD5OxKcpz3tAyCeT8XGT9-tv9HiHmpTwLrztAcOhBqxlaTRaaZCjYDaPXHhizcS9F-RTjl0IbV-w9-5LW6DI-1TZa/s1000/DSC_5189.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="667" data-original-width="1000" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiG4oUY0MWx4aNkiMq4BfzXopxwLb38r5KWFSMbQUD4htuu-qWVOEQnXv19VSBNVPDSc5z3PbkpkFUI2opDcT35TlNWpdm9fPduD5OxKcpz3tAyCeT8XGT9-tv9HiHmpTwLrztAcOhBqxlaTRaaZCjYDaPXHhizcS9F-RTjl0IbV-w9-5LW6DI-1TZa/w400-h266/DSC_5189.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sociable weaver nests weighing down the power lines</td></tr></tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"> </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiemKbqJbjdMEuLb6w-u0bCbdA5uqMd2eaXmhKvXUzZS4lOT1mnbpye_D19YpY5GPijtb6yVwvUkUyFKUxm0V5N0-mEwCPsWfRUaNKAm90hPl0FgCalh1taPRdOLv3NdqppyZqXPz0kyRpJtdJMWABEfp-o2Ak2yZ28AI79fPNJE14VRvabbzJ7Pf0Q/s1000/DSC_5178.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="667" data-original-width="1000" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiemKbqJbjdMEuLb6w-u0bCbdA5uqMd2eaXmhKvXUzZS4lOT1mnbpye_D19YpY5GPijtb6yVwvUkUyFKUxm0V5N0-mEwCPsWfRUaNKAm90hPl0FgCalh1taPRdOLv3NdqppyZqXPz0kyRpJtdJMWABEfp-o2Ak2yZ28AI79fPNJE14VRvabbzJ7Pf0Q/w400-h266/DSC_5178.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Our first night in Stanley in over 4 years!</td></tr></tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"> </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><p></p>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-635211973012255844.post-81294856285452125282022-10-24T07:08:00.001-07:002022-10-24T07:08:12.158-07:00Ambling Through Northern Botswana<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpLM9-IhvbvUYVpQCAiGqo0F016xShL4eaVKbcyD_S1EH036lVCkNpg1Ho62tjhjdinsoHioGgkBmoqAiTen8wQ9dyW6YxTsW_86umKzlHz47UOV6xVxFN34iQr9Cw1N8aNNMZ-aO7kNVb8PTygjLoP7TEUK-aCDlL9MPPZz0qanfpn9neykWHFhjd/s1000/DSC_5719.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="667" data-original-width="1000" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpLM9-IhvbvUYVpQCAiGqo0F016xShL4eaVKbcyD_S1EH036lVCkNpg1Ho62tjhjdinsoHioGgkBmoqAiTen8wQ9dyW6YxTsW_86umKzlHz47UOV6xVxFN34iQr9Cw1N8aNNMZ-aO7kNVb8PTygjLoP7TEUK-aCDlL9MPPZz0qanfpn9neykWHFhjd/w640-h426/DSC_5719.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Terri on the edge of Ntwetwe pan</td></tr></tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><p> </p>
<div><br /></div><iframe height="480" src="https://www.google.com/maps/d/embed?mid=136JF5-xHckIQxQNgrKYzY4BVxMbXc5s&ehbc=2E312F" width="640"></iframe>
<div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">Livingstone, Zambia</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9UsDx8RngluAS4JELHdVupjqrSrlmAfOYfkLy7IKHGhfQnQS3QMJSCq2r8353fz6us73gryaVSg9s_uweqKDHQditdtnCLqkexBSE8r16jaKjOCk3iORRuA1BM8qfJD_UMgmBVwo5payxn_vbFlLidp4GD5cVsjt2AKqzgwlweM3_QpElermoHd2s/s2048/Stanley%20at%20Tabonina.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9UsDx8RngluAS4JELHdVupjqrSrlmAfOYfkLy7IKHGhfQnQS3QMJSCq2r8353fz6us73gryaVSg9s_uweqKDHQditdtnCLqkexBSE8r16jaKjOCk3iORRuA1BM8qfJD_UMgmBVwo5payxn_vbFlLidp4GD5cVsjt2AKqzgwlweM3_QpElermoHd2s/w400-h300/Stanley%20at%20Tabonina.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Stanley camped at Tabonina </td></tr></tbody></table>We have left behind Botswana and entered the third country of our trip, Zambia. We are camped in the gardens of the lovely Tabonina Bis guesthouse, under huge shade trees, catching up on admin as we have good internet connections and will be in town for a couple of weeks, working with the community-based elementary school that Terri has been developing for the past 15 years, <a href="http://olivetreelearningcentre.com/" target="_blank">Olive Tree Learning Centre</a>. So it's a good time to catch up on blogging.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKR63QtEkaf6NwMB2kl3m-xdgzrPyGTOMnRYSBSpWl4aKy_Q4hZU2zTwhPC6F1iuwytxSHc12m7SmCnDMTOxMD513crLpXqie928KVM7YqILyNKSWaDcqKO7nRlpWZO6J8GcF3pztFKNkwDFnRJdqAafmySSZu7QCtFiOUoQIQt7QtfcmN0aHrslBO/s1000/DSC_5604.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="667" data-original-width="1000" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKR63QtEkaf6NwMB2kl3m-xdgzrPyGTOMnRYSBSpWl4aKy_Q4hZU2zTwhPC6F1iuwytxSHc12m7SmCnDMTOxMD513crLpXqie928KVM7YqILyNKSWaDcqKO7nRlpWZO6J8GcF3pztFKNkwDFnRJdqAafmySSZu7QCtFiOUoQIQt7QtfcmN0aHrslBO/w400-h266/DSC_5604.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">White-backed ducks<br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><span style="text-align: justify;">When I last wrote, we had just arrived in Drifters Camp, outside Maun. (By the way, in addition to the Google Map embedded in this post, you can check our position in real time using </span><a href="https://www.polarsteps.com/GraydonHazenberg/5858926-stanley-s-travels-2022" style="text-align: justify;" target="_blank">the cool Polarsteps app</a><span style="text-align: justify;">, which is a neat way of allowing people to follow our journey; you can just use the website, rather than having to sign up for the app.) We spent a couple of leisurely days at Drifters, watching the abundant birdlife in the Boteti River, swimming in the pool, doing workouts using our gymnastic rings (which we suspended from some massive tree branches), writing blog posts and editing and uploading YouTube videos for our channel. (Have you checked out </span><a href="https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCyaqdj8wj8Omge72yxI8UkQ" style="text-align: justify;" target="_blank">our YouTube channel, Stanley's Travels, yet? If not, please click here!!</a><span style="text-align: justify;">)</span><div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigl8aLcW0ZIy8O8kPRwRWuUmeOwrDN--27NymK3GnWym5XyqJgFLuPPBVZf0Ya0nLjErKY79gECJJg47gtXjCZ61B53fU08NWieHDi35ZWLLH2dEhIzEePgPXuMb2cpDXg3keadOCJtvfUNam30Gznt9FilM-X_fJ1NBngiJ98B3N-FF0MkTypTIGC/s1000/DSC_5612.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1000" data-original-width="667" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigl8aLcW0ZIy8O8kPRwRWuUmeOwrDN--27NymK3GnWym5XyqJgFLuPPBVZf0Ya0nLjErKY79gECJJg47gtXjCZ61B53fU08NWieHDi35ZWLLH2dEhIzEePgPXuMb2cpDXg3keadOCJtvfUNam30Gznt9FilM-X_fJ1NBngiJ98B3N-FF0MkTypTIGC/w266-h400/DSC_5612.jpg" width="266" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Golden-tailed woodpecker</td></tr></tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjm4O58v48bX8clMiuo1DRjQoce8M9O1WZlHuNM-LPS_42Wjwq93viUFBfBagTHhLo2nhS5tR-J-Pb8sARgIQas2W5k23mr2UOvOfBqIT75ZTqLJKRrbBc0d_QphQxkc7c1RPl9qrsB8wRNIMaYNK7mKBrh0DRwZ9KSlUnuOk7lZQCDx4J4sUfBhtIP/s1000/DSC_5660.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="667" data-original-width="1000" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjm4O58v48bX8clMiuo1DRjQoce8M9O1WZlHuNM-LPS_42Wjwq93viUFBfBagTHhLo2nhS5tR-J-Pb8sARgIQas2W5k23mr2UOvOfBqIT75ZTqLJKRrbBc0d_QphQxkc7c1RPl9qrsB8wRNIMaYNK7mKBrh0DRwZ9KSlUnuOk7lZQCDx4J4sUfBhtIP/w400-h266/DSC_5660.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Pachyderm water bandits<br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><span style="text-align: justify;">It was hard to drag ourselves away from the genteel surroundings of Drifters and head back out on the road on October 12th. It was a short and easy drive (a welcome change from grinding through the Kgalagadi sands!) to Planet Baobab, 175 km east near the town of Gweta. The road led past scrub-covered Kalahari sands, with wandering cows, donkeys and horses a constant menace as they ambled unconcernedly out onto the pavement, oblivious to speeding cars. (I heard a Botswanan refer to the Flat Five instead of the iconic Big Five game species; the Flat Five are the animals most often hit by passing cars: horses, donkeys, cows, dogs and chickens.) Sadly we saw one dead African wild dog (or painted dog, </span><i style="text-align: justify;">Lycaon pictus</i><span style="text-align: justify;">, one of the rarest of African carnivores) lying on the pavement that morning. We also passed dozens of elephants, attracted to the road by the water flowing along a municipal water supply buried in the sand. It's covered by heavy concrete slabs, but elephants are strong and determined, and for a long stretch to the west of the village of Joani every cover had been flung aside so that elephants could stick their trunks in for a drink. At one spot a herd of zebras, the first we had seen on this trip, waited patiently for the elephants to be done so that they could drink water from the boggy waterhole that the elephants had constructed in the sand beside the water main. Elsewhere ostriches clustered in groups of three or four beside the road.</span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTecahHqKMI5E6U1e4gbozmXXxD3J5GDFOEUSf_UAcfxSIpnEck2L28c5XMex_cscdVtvCgpEZzXvSAu4mYpufplPEXgrvNuXqqh0XlBfjFdeYW4Ikq7lvydQcKZ_JSNLOgBLLfBUd3IKlO3uracDGjYbr4HuEXEHs4-a6TeiZ3P_LU9h4Eb21txKg/s1000/DSC_5667.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="667" data-original-width="1000" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTecahHqKMI5E6U1e4gbozmXXxD3J5GDFOEUSf_UAcfxSIpnEck2L28c5XMex_cscdVtvCgpEZzXvSAu4mYpufplPEXgrvNuXqqh0XlBfjFdeYW4Ikq7lvydQcKZ_JSNLOgBLLfBUd3IKlO3uracDGjYbr4HuEXEHs4-a6TeiZ3P_LU9h4Eb21txKg/w400-h266/DSC_5667.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Zebras waiting for elephants to move on<br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">We got to Planet Baobab around noon and settled in. It's a beautifully constructed lodge and campsite, with lots of enormous baobab trees and even more tiny young saplings scattered around. There's a huge swimming pool in which we lolled during the heat of the day, while the campsites are large and have power. A flock of noisy spurfowl of two species (crested francolin and red-billed spurfowl) kept us amused as we grilled up steaks and drank a fine bottle of Hartenberg Shiraz which we had bought during our wine estate visit back in Cape Town.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYNhwB7eFCwQ3pL12NMSFqNFioKHDAh6b1IZkXogk6yobc9HWFVSj1NAyvV8jBAAu8Q7rXCwqdI3nEODz471fxbucdnSnTj4L85RT8ac5_xX5PPcEYG3M6o2E9zATtF0DUAG2yiaAhM7Ho98bDy3CEI4W2IYFv0MZG6TKRUBMFEhJvj5nb565UfRx-/s1000/DSC_5670.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="667" data-original-width="1000" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYNhwB7eFCwQ3pL12NMSFqNFioKHDAh6b1IZkXogk6yobc9HWFVSj1NAyvV8jBAAu8Q7rXCwqdI3nEODz471fxbucdnSnTj4L85RT8ac5_xX5PPcEYG3M6o2E9zATtF0DUAG2yiaAhM7Ho98bDy3CEI4W2IYFv0MZG6TKRUBMFEhJvj5nb565UfRx-/w400-h266/DSC_5670.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A mischievous yellow-billed hornbill at Planet Baobab<br /><br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWvXjPcglQasZLiOSHLL3A-_v51eueDzg6dfjLS_cH-sYsCQ-qUC4NBvp6EC69fVh_7Ahcn4pYzy8kolDt8i9FSEZsjcB6cySVzpjzldYq0Z1zPBeo2JiWdZO0v0BDSTVxRT5-MonHujfJrYSHXM4NvrVhqoajY2AMV9ADhUCOPzwht12ts__EXNvn/s1000/DSC_5686.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1000" data-original-width="667" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWvXjPcglQasZLiOSHLL3A-_v51eueDzg6dfjLS_cH-sYsCQ-qUC4NBvp6EC69fVh_7Ahcn4pYzy8kolDt8i9FSEZsjcB6cySVzpjzldYq0Z1zPBeo2JiWdZO0v0BDSTVxRT5-MonHujfJrYSHXM4NvrVhqoajY2AMV9ADhUCOPzwht12ts__EXNvn/w266-h400/DSC_5686.jpg" width="266" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Planet Baobab<br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table></div><span style="text-align: justify;">We would have been glad to spend longer at Planet Baobab, but the nearby Makgadikgadi Pans were calling us. We didn't venture into the Pans back in 2016, so we were keen to get out there to see it for ourselves. We drove south through deep sands with Maree at the wheel, our 4WD low-range engaged, and our tires heavily deflated, past dense bush and cattle grazing on the sparse, scorched grassland. Our first stop was at Green's Baobab, an iconic big baobab used as a waypoint by generations of travellers, including (probably) David Livingstone. A number of these voyagers have left their initials and dates inscribed into the thick bark of this ancient tree, with the earliest that we saw dating back to 1859.</span></div><div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5o6UBWgJUsgMrLPl62apmSxRwu_BA7cXEiFZejcuPOwrC2sZFnc_4-82_EerVlq5WGYkQHFxWPIFcH5GdoBGvPaCxderHgbdfVYDPXEUICDaQb6xBwIdOMKvN7t2VTxl3PiXbmzPszR-MgcSUdY0MiK6S1xGnyeQ1aXbAwdw8wYT-zZNfQOfSR9Ny/s1000/DSC_5698.jpg" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1000" data-original-width="667" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5o6UBWgJUsgMrLPl62apmSxRwu_BA7cXEiFZejcuPOwrC2sZFnc_4-82_EerVlq5WGYkQHFxWPIFcH5GdoBGvPaCxderHgbdfVYDPXEUICDaQb6xBwIdOMKvN7t2VTxl3PiXbmzPszR-MgcSUdY0MiK6S1xGnyeQ1aXbAwdw8wYT-zZNfQOfSR9Ny/w266-h400/DSC_5698.jpg" width="266" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Green's Baobab</td></tr></tbody></table><div style="text-align: justify;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJ0ikjZxRl3N9uDY1HU_uqvLj-qAOqfr0GJyoqG-r4_YRCbJ5TOV8z6Z7F1L6JJGUbmr9ryL6sM3Oje7GJze2hEFuoRtd_TGsgAlGwiMdFdmhYXiu983s0K3KdZjRrUmxXEUT_6NMJxe88xSBBiH4deiWRIeUh4CBAViPl4OH5KkuE5JhQpcxBhVlE/s1000/DSC_5702.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1000" data-original-width="667" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJ0ikjZxRl3N9uDY1HU_uqvLj-qAOqfr0GJyoqG-r4_YRCbJ5TOV8z6Z7F1L6JJGUbmr9ryL6sM3Oje7GJze2hEFuoRtd_TGsgAlGwiMdFdmhYXiu983s0K3KdZjRrUmxXEUT_6NMJxe88xSBBiH4deiWRIeUh4CBAViPl4OH5KkuE5JhQpcxBhVlE/w266-h400/DSC_5702.jpg" width="266" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Graffiti from 1859 on Green's Baobab<br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">A few hundred metres away is a muddy waterhole where a zeable herd of elephants were heading off just as we arrived, to be replaced by some scrawny cattle. There were supposed to be some old San hunting hides nearby and even some Neolithic tools scattered around, but it was hot and the presence of the elephants dissuaded us from exploring too far afield. We then drove south to the remains of an even older and mightier tree, Chapman's Baobab, said to be thousands of years old, <a href="https://africageographic.com/stories/brief-history-chapmans-baobab/" target="_blank">but which fell over in 2016</a>. Even lying on the ground it was an impressive size, but it would have been nicer to see it standing erect.</div><div><br /></div><div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLys7doVvPyOqbWy-o--5gWU30KFU8DTWECcEJepCNGw3XnNYhg3qjhchy3DwguIkvDfxwvwOTnElfrklSn6mcxIZNbhcv-ZkHPDr9r2VyiHhlI01FOvtfiPvmYxvnhzRWHlWpx_ecyPg5LXcbarYEwPMxq3VFA3rSkpydGS951zChgTw8WRUvKRau/s1000/DSC_5724.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="667" data-original-width="1000" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLys7doVvPyOqbWy-o--5gWU30KFU8DTWECcEJepCNGw3XnNYhg3qjhchy3DwguIkvDfxwvwOTnElfrklSn6mcxIZNbhcv-ZkHPDr9r2VyiHhlI01FOvtfiPvmYxvnhzRWHlWpx_ecyPg5LXcbarYEwPMxq3VFA3rSkpydGS951zChgTw8WRUvKRau/w400-h266/DSC_5724.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Terri on the Makgadikgadi Pan<br /><br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjH3Y98wfYAnwivpbFXN1m5C3l7wrQ8kraFqzot3I_YVE0L679ICXPRV5Mcnx6R4V4-GE3SLq2NUuW3cnPGPeL70jiAXfwlzwdYw3IQ4BTFPrWNMJGsi85p15Avg8QbzFEs8JsExAl6x1EhltamejIGH6KJQBWHj5tXEmCqO-eNPn59LTy38_EaPfeX/s1000/DSC_5729.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="667" data-original-width="1000" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjH3Y98wfYAnwivpbFXN1m5C3l7wrQ8kraFqzot3I_YVE0L679ICXPRV5Mcnx6R4V4-GE3SLq2NUuW3cnPGPeL70jiAXfwlzwdYw3IQ4BTFPrWNMJGsi85p15Avg8QbzFEs8JsExAl6x1EhltamejIGH6KJQBWHj5tXEmCqO-eNPn59LTy38_EaPfeX/w400-h266/DSC_5729.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The track across white infinity<br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><span style="text-align: justify;">By now the deep sands had gotten shallower, making for slightly easier 4WD driving. We drove east through pretty grassland until we arrived at a tiny hamlet with its cattle enclosure. From here we bumped southeast towards the </span><a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ntwetwe_Pan" style="text-align: justify;" target="_blank">Ntwetwe Pan</a><span style="text-align: justify;"> and its wide-open spaces; our maps were pretty vague about where the open pan began, so we were relieved when we eventually reached a point where we saw white immensity lying to the south and east, with the track driving down onto the salty, cracked, hard surface of the dried-out lake bed. There was once an immense inland sea here, </span><a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Lake_Makgadikgadi" style="text-align: justify;" target="_blank">Lake Makgadikgadi, which covered an area larger than Switzerland</a><span style="text-align: justify;"> until the end of the last Ice Age, but now there are three vestigial seasonal salt lakes remaining, Ntwetwe, Nxai and Suwa. Suwa fills with water most years as it's fed by the Nata River from Zimbabwe, but Ntwetwe seems to remain dry most years, resulting in a very hard surface for driving across. (Suwa, in contrast, is notorious for having very soft mud lurking below a thin surface crust, and many a vehicle has sunk into the pan.) We drove a few kilometres into the pan along a well-defined track and suddenly found an established campsite used by a local tourism operator. We cut across open pan, following our GPS, and found ourselves on the main track out in the big white. We zipped along at 60 km/h before finally popping back up onto the grasslands. After a longer-than-expected grassland section, we finally returned to the pan again and found a place to camp out in the middle of absolutely nowhere. It was an awe-inspiring feeling to spend the night with white on three sides (we could still see the grassland verge behind us), contemplating infinity and watching the stars wheel overhead.</span></div><div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjqZAsOpD65OS596nBFDhr5W3FM7s1rreMvaN5l_ra2GLZfFi6iQ6afpw8JMHXAttmjBg_-elSCEXxgHqXLLrAJghxIvhe8O572esamn6ljDFCaTQhRU4sj5cf4ZnMvymywZ5YhHpAVHhL6ECecOD7XqIBzR92VS33RLBtF3Wk3BWrP-1wHmVMyI3o/s1000/DSC_5731.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="667" data-original-width="1000" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjqZAsOpD65OS596nBFDhr5W3FM7s1rreMvaN5l_ra2GLZfFi6iQ6afpw8JMHXAttmjBg_-elSCEXxgHqXLLrAJghxIvhe8O572esamn6ljDFCaTQhRU4sj5cf4ZnMvymywZ5YhHpAVHhL6ECecOD7XqIBzR92VS33RLBtF3Wk3BWrP-1wHmVMyI3o/w400-h266/DSC_5731.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Stanley on Ntwetwe Pan<br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4CHEJb7OsuH78GzDvpa1a_5wEu6bkehlewZHKoXHf5nuzB5bxpcbaqk5vM-FcQrxERelWLQ3PLQE8ZWfLESQU6QxUNE0L1Qnj2AY8u2f4X7nswCvg_5-EMi9OQoAA8PnRSe_KEIwPRZPK8kh4mBoxiu240ij6kkvzSn75ENkllFH51g6C4x1pxc_p/s1000/DSC_5735.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="667" data-original-width="1000" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4CHEJb7OsuH78GzDvpa1a_5wEu6bkehlewZHKoXHf5nuzB5bxpcbaqk5vM-FcQrxERelWLQ3PLQE8ZWfLESQU6QxUNE0L1Qnj2AY8u2f4X7nswCvg_5-EMi9OQoAA8PnRSe_KEIwPRZPK8kh4mBoxiu240ij6kkvzSn75ENkllFH51g6C4x1pxc_p/w400-h266/DSC_5735.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A very simple landscape<br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlgrCVUQeHMkPySZluSMe1Red7yi_Hk-QsJPQmpuljBenDjTK_ts3SJTs_uLWKsTF2tO8BqQVhO4XDIx1QbK_nn9w9V2BtzKi6cZQcPABoMyFS5YHEwGJAoN6wKYaZXwkK1suWdAPA1AEmiMQvqXXj_8rF1mxyc7N-xujJN1Rjao6IsnACLqV4dc-x/s1000/DSC_5745.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="667" data-original-width="1000" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlgrCVUQeHMkPySZluSMe1Red7yi_Hk-QsJPQmpuljBenDjTK_ts3SJTs_uLWKsTF2tO8BqQVhO4XDIx1QbK_nn9w9V2BtzKi6cZQcPABoMyFS5YHEwGJAoN6wKYaZXwkK1suWdAPA1AEmiMQvqXXj_8rF1mxyc7N-xujJN1Rjao6IsnACLqV4dc-x/w400-h266/DSC_5745.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Camping on Ntwetwe Pan<br /><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8W-mnYZ1-pdRhr5AEmom27z1gwjRWh0F4HSIKoDNKW-GRCrebOxrVVpIEew6jx6X-jzsrmGCQlzGun1bL9ESWrCxoAsdu90q31W_RTAxTbL_bxYzp1VlvyYQveqzQf9cN4phx3xsDnh5V2Vi8SF4Zxcrs2VvxGolucQvUf-BIQEiCLlB19M0omW3k/s1000/DSC_5751.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="667" data-original-width="1000" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8W-mnYZ1-pdRhr5AEmom27z1gwjRWh0F4HSIKoDNKW-GRCrebOxrVVpIEew6jx6X-jzsrmGCQlzGun1bL9ESWrCxoAsdu90q31W_RTAxTbL_bxYzp1VlvyYQveqzQf9cN4phx3xsDnh5V2Vi8SF4Zxcrs2VvxGolucQvUf-BIQEiCLlB19M0omW3k/w400-h266/DSC_5751.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Milky Way<br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><br /></td></tr></tbody></table></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhto4gowodfpLr6090HJXBEfSKUDaMl9LmRdoA9Y61rmj5UHMZaZ6yRENKBkdRLCp1HkYyi1JFVdU_rkp8WCqTztoxtCaBr9KvgV8ZibcSlF-TIuuAJClnmfvHeGopIk1VW0B2H_CoQeWk2berdf4VwyjaBgRTuPvusp5rUQmrBFH4hVnROsq1w1vuC/s1000/DSC_5757.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="667" data-original-width="1000" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhto4gowodfpLr6090HJXBEfSKUDaMl9LmRdoA9Y61rmj5UHMZaZ6yRENKBkdRLCp1HkYyi1JFVdU_rkp8WCqTztoxtCaBr9KvgV8ZibcSlF-TIuuAJClnmfvHeGopIk1VW0B2H_CoQeWk2berdf4VwyjaBgRTuPvusp5rUQmrBFH4hVnROsq1w1vuC/w400-h266/DSC_5757.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Early morning light<br /> </td></tr></tbody></table><div><span style="text-align: justify;">The next day we continued on our way southeast, reaching the edge of Ntwetwe Pan rather sooner than expected. (Did I mention that our maps were very, very approximate?) It was a longer-than-expected bumpy grind through grassland and savannah to reach one of the main veterinary fences of the country before turning south and crossing through the fence. From here it was an even bumpier and slower drive south until we got to the edge of Suwa Pan. We picked our way out onto the salty surface and followed tracks towards Kubu Island, relieved to be out on the smooth pan surface but mindful of the treacherous surface below and reluctant to venture out too far from the "shore". At one point I got out and took some photos and video of Terri driving across the pan; as she slowed down and turned back towards me, Stanley fishtailed dramatically as though on ice. Terri kept it under control, but was relieved to get back to the main track unscathed.</span></div><div><span style="text-align: justify;"><br /></span></div><div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjR18MsRJfIhx1iLF4YQo2DoCIG50sAZskGnFbkVieNwEjq_HBnnd1WbRTQN7D8BJ5ckc-1Xd4SAiU4TGwcp0C_4D6foJrMCUJ2SjsaA1h2parrRX4jnkKUPE-RHtq6mOMsKwNlnLzGmGPV-3lZWPvH4ud9CEKMJ__V1pmv0iH8Zrkktd1mUMpZqCIw/s1000/DSC_5781.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="667" data-original-width="1000" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjR18MsRJfIhx1iLF4YQo2DoCIG50sAZskGnFbkVieNwEjq_HBnnd1WbRTQN7D8BJ5ckc-1Xd4SAiU4TGwcp0C_4D6foJrMCUJ2SjsaA1h2parrRX4jnkKUPE-RHtq6mOMsKwNlnLzGmGPV-3lZWPvH4ud9CEKMJ__V1pmv0iH8Zrkktd1mUMpZqCIw/w400-h266/DSC_5781.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Stanley skirting Kubu Island<br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGVMsaR_4zmU5YqP65AvoXX2npuG4ibSboYKaP-q0u8-YgeWDBaWyZU_0sSfTZiY0ZaE1sNnnPSyGwkSolTWDfy0mJPveM6vWfc8lVZdescoV3aFcaYlKV49LthqWp35rtLqTut-37w-ly476lBIunI1RQ4e5yVDm4PVkl_6JfE7fUh0CK-MO03wNs/s1000/DSC_5783.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="667" data-original-width="1000" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGVMsaR_4zmU5YqP65AvoXX2npuG4ibSboYKaP-q0u8-YgeWDBaWyZU_0sSfTZiY0ZaE1sNnnPSyGwkSolTWDfy0mJPveM6vWfc8lVZdescoV3aFcaYlKV49LthqWp35rtLqTut-37w-ly476lBIunI1RQ4e5yVDm4PVkl_6JfE7fUh0CK-MO03wNs/w400-h266/DSC_5783.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Kubu Island's baobabs and boulders<br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">Kubu Island is a scenic spot of high land rising above the pan surface in a mass of huge granite boulders and immense baobab trees. It's a popular spot to camp, but it's expensive and can be crowded, so we headed further south and east to find a free spot to ourselves a few kilometres away from Kubu. It was another beautiful campsite, although much closer to the safety of "shore" than the night before, and it made for another memorable evening alone under the immense dome of the night sky.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9aVimqom5hhOczuCAe_o8Sg28RNPbJShL3Xdz1BILELct2tcXmfD834sLiamQF90IbpJ8co5Bs9pNerplvQm9oPTWrDT9k1TeKcfKP55KPyg-wkkiDQPEPJC1zCQxASD9577TchozKteCB62GQZ6Yqzj6bMjvBeZxQnNhByJjlRoqGBccCRYPSRV7/s1000/DSC_5808.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="667" data-original-width="1000" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9aVimqom5hhOczuCAe_o8Sg28RNPbJShL3Xdz1BILELct2tcXmfD834sLiamQF90IbpJ8co5Bs9pNerplvQm9oPTWrDT9k1TeKcfKP55KPyg-wkkiDQPEPJC1zCQxASD9577TchozKteCB62GQZ6Yqzj6bMjvBeZxQnNhByJjlRoqGBccCRYPSRV7/w400-h266/DSC_5808.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ruined walls on Kubu Island<br /><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiq6Iuwm_spE75tZVaFhby-7L0OajM1dgQZFv7_q8uk0P6FdFTxBAhURWkw2VU_yKY_ERXL7-ZDDoguOHLGBBOW31aJJxpNiBbXeOdcT8D5mCngDAYhTKhM-_1TIYgv2sA1DYokmI9xLEXOdOevaG6u9BRC4CaSUiOmx8Zgt_f3YrGmbh23WXJ0DqCu/s1000/DSC_5820.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="667" data-original-width="1000" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiq6Iuwm_spE75tZVaFhby-7L0OajM1dgQZFv7_q8uk0P6FdFTxBAhURWkw2VU_yKY_ERXL7-ZDDoguOHLGBBOW31aJJxpNiBbXeOdcT8D5mCngDAYhTKhM-_1TIYgv2sA1DYokmI9xLEXOdOevaG6u9BRC4CaSUiOmx8Zgt_f3YrGmbh23WXJ0DqCu/w400-h266/DSC_5820.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Kubu Island<br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table></td></tr></tbody></table></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8gyYIN3npVjEMrv4ns3jMY6IonPBZNjnmqenkTzlI-5lJnjMe0aP_l5qOr0eMYqcN3BzmQkonCC1rvlMduk-u93tvccs1i1t3shA_fFkP6y769kI_q-C6LqYRuKkEOQ5DZOHNEcu5Op0yplJyGbW8nSdIulwkEnrWs-B7iW7s_xtldLouBTtFqAp-/s1000/DSC_5836.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="667" data-original-width="1000" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8gyYIN3npVjEMrv4ns3jMY6IonPBZNjnmqenkTzlI-5lJnjMe0aP_l5qOr0eMYqcN3BzmQkonCC1rvlMduk-u93tvccs1i1t3shA_fFkP6y769kI_q-C6LqYRuKkEOQ5DZOHNEcu5Op0yplJyGbW8nSdIulwkEnrWs-B7iW7s_xtldLouBTtFqAp-/w400-h266/DSC_5836.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">On the long road back north out of the pans<br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><span style="text-align: justify;">The following day we set off back to tarmac. We stopped by Kubu to take some photos of baobabs and of centuries-old stone walls, remnants of the </span><a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Kingdom_of_Butua" style="text-align: justify;" target="_blank">Khami civilization</a><span style="text-align: justify;"> who maintained a trading outpost here. From there we had three options to return to the main tarmac road: northwest across the grassland, northeast across the grassland next to the pan edge, and across the pan edge. We read the route descriptions and chose the second option, which turned out to be worse than expected: four hours of slow grinding through deep sand in low gear, rather than zipping along smooth pan. It was a relief to pop out, pump up our tires using our portable compressor, and drive east into the crossroads town of Nata. We bought fuel and turned south to visit the bird sanctuary on the edge of Suwa Pan, but were advised by the ticket sellers that the water in the pan was so far out that it was almost impossible to spot the flamingoes and pelicans, so we turned back into town and found a place to stay in funky Eselbe Camp, run by an interesting white Swazi guy named Rupert. We spent a fun evening eating, drinking and talking beside the fire with our fellow camp inhabitants, including a very amusing guy named Dwayne, another white Swazi who flies drones and light planes and regaled us with tales, some of which might actually have been true.</span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6_1AyRdFiGFW1WCHkZqQsBTvpWXfbuQLF5D11qMbxJsAQK7psbdbpNLN7jmKAG0pnOuGfRQ-7PN4Csf9DznLognFVkVzj7dr8JGl8RL_7JgDdotLGmVR2CyxT2BaDaJkcT97p9yb9gLpDuyrMfj_5MQbWkxt42L5qblpaadI9KWDO7po9xeQ5E7z5/s1000/DSC_5909.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="667" data-original-width="1000" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6_1AyRdFiGFW1WCHkZqQsBTvpWXfbuQLF5D11qMbxJsAQK7psbdbpNLN7jmKAG0pnOuGfRQ-7PN4Csf9DznLognFVkVzj7dr8JGl8RL_7JgDdotLGmVR2CyxT2BaDaJkcT97p9yb9gLpDuyrMfj_5MQbWkxt42L5qblpaadI9KWDO7po9xeQ5E7z5/w400-h266/DSC_5909.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Banded mongoose (Terri's assailant)<br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><span style="text-align: justify;">The next day was October 16th and we were keen to head north to </span><a href="https://www.facebook.com/elephantsands/" style="text-align: justify;" target="_blank">Elephant Sands</a><span style="text-align: justify;">, one of our favourite spots from </span><a href="https://graydonstravels.blogspot.com/2016/11/northern-botswana-cornucopia-of-wildlife.html" style="text-align: justify;" target="_blank">our 2016 trip through Botswana.</a><span style="text-align: justify;"> We set off betimes and were at the gate late in the morning. We picked a campsite overlooking the waterhole, popped up our roof and settled in. The key feature of Elephant Sands is its waterhole which attracts hundreds of elephants from the surrounding bush. When we arrived, there were a couple of dozen elephants milling around; a technical problem had stopped the flow of water, and all the thirsty pachyderms were tired of waiting. We spent the afternoon lounging by the pool, photographing and sketching elephants. We ventured in for a dip in the pool, but were slightly put off by all the floating detritus on the surface, particularly when we figured out that it was the dust of elephant dung, dried by the sun and blown by gusts into the pool. That evening we grilled up dinner and sat beside Stanley, watching elephants in the gloaming, before going to the waterhole to watch them, dimly illuminated by the restaurant lights; the energy in the crowd of elephants was mesmerizing as they occasionally vented frustration at the long lineup to drink, and we became keenly aware of how flimsy the low electric fence protecting us was.</span></div><div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5ZqtCNaZnx3IcTzmHw5TW19Uoy3lGISz4DemTv7K2ec_4yhI8LlhW4QR7h4AVFVgiy-umraOmvDoUIARNRSipDNjvu9n4lBNeQagddTHfajNYID0IK3EujEPmjWt0qaItbIvU-QkGm1H6AK8ZuLi-TW0MBsu5_f-lmnd_aq1zVlNetcwnIsZpLXyn/s1000/DSC_5955.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="667" data-original-width="1000" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5ZqtCNaZnx3IcTzmHw5TW19Uoy3lGISz4DemTv7K2ec_4yhI8LlhW4QR7h4AVFVgiy-umraOmvDoUIARNRSipDNjvu9n4lBNeQagddTHfajNYID0IK3EujEPmjWt0qaItbIvU-QkGm1H6AK8ZuLi-TW0MBsu5_f-lmnd_aq1zVlNetcwnIsZpLXyn/w400-h266/DSC_5955.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Pachyderm detail<br /><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHYa0dAOO5Xp_epRFKUBjUTqSfdAxxKMDJRhbacvhA7Z0I7y4gSw01abF3IqnFSh6xH4Rsk7Qe3GPWyb2l4N_QaRJHwlDjob2Fmj8KzQUZg4-PzGyrBwsnGNqyXfXEXD0SrN9cCbdMQkORc_lR2Qhokd438UC1wIbkrWRNUUVphLwJjUmb-jlFrhrM/s1000/DSC_5959.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1000" data-original-width="667" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHYa0dAOO5Xp_epRFKUBjUTqSfdAxxKMDJRhbacvhA7Z0I7y4gSw01abF3IqnFSh6xH4Rsk7Qe3GPWyb2l4N_QaRJHwlDjob2Fmj8KzQUZg4-PzGyrBwsnGNqyXfXEXD0SrN9cCbdMQkORc_lR2Qhokd438UC1wIbkrWRNUUVphLwJjUmb-jlFrhrM/w266-h400/DSC_5959.jpg" width="266" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ears shaped like Africa<br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table></td></tr></tbody></table></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghdv3qXu9cu5L1Cu4mDF4V6VAzMj-1Bjn7mbrIPrZQo00s7TtRlNzlitHQRmMb9OUZ-fierfXBOk5gltfyR-HQzwcYFY9eTu7rUxMQppXH9Xf04D-lRNKAyozFJiVZhtx44XMyVBijc807dAn6Az3Uc3KSGTgyQI_tKH1YAIbP42IGws2OM-sOs2gY/s1000/DSC_5962.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1000" data-original-width="667" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghdv3qXu9cu5L1Cu4mDF4V6VAzMj-1Bjn7mbrIPrZQo00s7TtRlNzlitHQRmMb9OUZ-fierfXBOk5gltfyR-HQzwcYFY9eTu7rUxMQppXH9Xf04D-lRNKAyozFJiVZhtx44XMyVBijc807dAn6Az3Uc3KSGTgyQI_tKH1YAIbP42IGws2OM-sOs2gY/w266-h400/DSC_5962.jpg" width="266" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">More elephant skin<br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVongtk59_044YMZGKQsItAlFEh-Pex9MVm2tqXwiZ5Y2Yxa6fkbG_b2WNhCgUrH_P8E59zWLJJ4ll76fCxI8cjegfMUbUPrePIb8T-EBB5w0R-zZcr9DzHlBqSSRR-KyGI56EHSBMNsFfgTe2KaCWBnuzQxHOz9agTH9ZD_qxHxjw8YYuoUjkU5Ow/s1000/DSC_5978.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="667" data-original-width="1000" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVongtk59_044YMZGKQsItAlFEh-Pex9MVm2tqXwiZ5Y2Yxa6fkbG_b2WNhCgUrH_P8E59zWLJJ4ll76fCxI8cjegfMUbUPrePIb8T-EBB5w0R-zZcr9DzHlBqSSRR-KyGI56EHSBMNsFfgTe2KaCWBnuzQxHOz9agTH9ZD_qxHxjw8YYuoUjkU5Ow/w400-h266/DSC_5978.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Baby learning to use his trunk<br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><span style="text-align: justify;">We spent the next day at Elephant Sands relaxing, sorting through photos, reading, working out (hanging the rings from a disused water tank tower), not swimming, chatting with our neighbours and (in the case of Terri) baking scones over an open fire using our cast-iron potjie. It was a relaxing day, with less aggravation among the pachyderms (the water supply wasn't cut off during the day) and fewer people staying in the campground. The only moment of adrenaline was in the morning when a passing banded mongoose attacked Terri's feet, leaving her bleeding from either a claw or a tooth.</span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpYrkLG37CBfgwg0E4-M2aAIkpJJ3lRt58kFarRs9aFo88XxZ7j5tBvqbKZd90qp2OdDQAyaKAiN0J94XG7prBJKj6tPHoYtlnVXH83bUEjcj5nZQGSfA1PdRP3Jsr58LX0G7G_u7JDFVMplvD15RlsYVEs2bkRKZlAz0jSgFRtqqZPe7N9QLrl5cA/s1000/DSC_6007.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="667" data-original-width="1000" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpYrkLG37CBfgwg0E4-M2aAIkpJJ3lRt58kFarRs9aFo88XxZ7j5tBvqbKZd90qp2OdDQAyaKAiN0J94XG7prBJKj6tPHoYtlnVXH83bUEjcj5nZQGSfA1PdRP3Jsr58LX0G7G_u7JDFVMplvD15RlsYVEs2bkRKZlAz0jSgFRtqqZPe7N9QLrl5cA/w400-h266/DSC_6007.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Chobe sunset<br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><span style="text-align: justify;">Our final stop in Botswana was Kasane, the tourist town on the edge of Chobe National Park. We left reasonably early from Elephant Sands and stopped in at Sinyati Lodge, site of another famous waterhole that's great for photography. It seemed a bit expensive and our friends Rene and Catrien, who had camped next to us at Elephant Sands, told us that there had been almost no animals at the waterhole the night before, so we kept going to the Chobe Safari Lodge and its opulent campsite, where we set up shop for the next four days. That afternoon we lounged by the pool after booking a river cruise and a park entrance pass for the next day. As we lolled on our lounge beds, suddenly our friends Oskar and Heike appeared unexpectedly; we had first met them at African Overlanders near Cape Town, and then more recently at Drifters Camp. We had a fun evening grilling and chatting with them about their adventures.</span></div><div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDnridksnHdzotWSnBKns-R8hewVMOOBCyT_7UocAKix6izFPsX2PBAcaGBPg6MsQN0aBQ01zfo-nAk1fx1hLh0eVd8turPzx3ih4kXsX2O23RsstceTVS620K5oovr1Jyugs5ie1ij_-7F3x3c5qCd3pVHdJMdEoqgkHqlp3FxCoLNui19-5X32oE/s1000/DSC_6017.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="667" data-original-width="1000" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDnridksnHdzotWSnBKns-R8hewVMOOBCyT_7UocAKix6izFPsX2PBAcaGBPg6MsQN0aBQ01zfo-nAk1fx1hLh0eVd8turPzx3ih4kXsX2O23RsstceTVS620K5oovr1Jyugs5ie1ij_-7F3x3c5qCd3pVHdJMdEoqgkHqlp3FxCoLNui19-5X32oE/w400-h266/DSC_6017.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A very happy Terri on the Chobe River<br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">Our Chobe National Park day was a day of two halves. In the morning we set off on what ended up being a private speedboat tour of the Chobe Riverfront with our guide George, from Kalahari Tours, an outfit with whom Terri has taken ten student groups to see Chobe over the years. George was an exceptional birding guide, and we spotted a few dozen species during our trip along the placid waters of the Chobe River, with the highlight being watching juvenile yellow-billed storks on the rocks of some rapids downstream of the park. Crocodiles, hippos, impala, bushbucks and dozens of elephants made a fine accompaniment to the birdlife. The Riverfront sector of Chobe is one of the densest concentrations of game anywhere in Africa, comparable to the Serengeti and Ngorongoro Crater, and the number of elephants is awe-inspiring, reminding us of how many elephants have been lost elsewhere in the continent. (Botswana is home to nearly half of all the 400,000 or so elephants remaining on the African continent.) We returned to shore happy with our David Attenborough morning.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTSVZucogoKDFcFboEyE1WJ4r_Bgk6kNts6V-ckKnRWlGL-LTGs9931-c8tjBJV9jccEKi8nqg9Lx5lQR4oZ3m9ssFnKSDJUj0CRiz0VXzKfiQ-o0PREdf25ubZwYS1wYWmuqu92s0kG2fHB_cwvRG4Ek_Yu9oTE1lgVsR1s0Ok4IyDzvTlFtgELec/s1000/DSC_6074.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="667" data-original-width="1000" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTSVZucogoKDFcFboEyE1WJ4r_Bgk6kNts6V-ckKnRWlGL-LTGs9931-c8tjBJV9jccEKi8nqg9Lx5lQR4oZ3m9ssFnKSDJUj0CRiz0VXzKfiQ-o0PREdf25ubZwYS1wYWmuqu92s0kG2fHB_cwvRG4Ek_Yu9oTE1lgVsR1s0Ok4IyDzvTlFtgELec/w400-h266/DSC_6074.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">African darter<br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZtD87D7PKvJTFK_nDhkuCYwA1_b9YqctWzRqV-huPsP6y8PtsHS9gz9bj33LgCQzGZLHnByw3cuheeX981yLo4axYq6lUzY2YVa6u2F9VMP2Y_bLL3haR6PFDD_qJhQ0XcKzLfMvVPfvcK6SSvkhF5Xs2bfqk4qH4w_5Nd3eX4KPFsM0e3toplX5I/s1000/DSC_6107.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="667" data-original-width="1000" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZtD87D7PKvJTFK_nDhkuCYwA1_b9YqctWzRqV-huPsP6y8PtsHS9gz9bj33LgCQzGZLHnByw3cuheeX981yLo4axYq6lUzY2YVa6u2F9VMP2Y_bLL3haR6PFDD_qJhQ0XcKzLfMvVPfvcK6SSvkhF5Xs2bfqk4qH4w_5Nd3eX4KPFsM0e3toplX5I/w400-h266/DSC_6107.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Lilac-breasted roller<br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjN1knpyxIOWa_mkGGzZrD_gHy2a5GFODEQWoWA01ITST_SNEO4KYkZPe1ey9G91aD0_3MiP6t5E0pXSaVdVw8wOCujjv0XLV7ABFowb8FSujOc5m18B5vb4R2GsMQauG8Qlw0vAn7JOEbSoOsiqY1z2z8H8_frz9UFtQEuK7r57W1h06OiDiZGyC_N/s1000/DSC_6119.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="667" data-original-width="1000" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjN1knpyxIOWa_mkGGzZrD_gHy2a5GFODEQWoWA01ITST_SNEO4KYkZPe1ey9G91aD0_3MiP6t5E0pXSaVdVw8wOCujjv0XLV7ABFowb8FSujOc5m18B5vb4R2GsMQauG8Qlw0vAn7JOEbSoOsiqY1z2z8H8_frz9UFtQEuK7r57W1h06OiDiZGyC_N/w400-h266/DSC_6119.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">African darter<br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYwEHLTfl66t85fA5ePw_fPPPSHfJssCtFiRPcBPLqkKf4K75NeUyzxOsbLCjUYGqONq8J0vVpiYG5o_50XDbE9_E_zf6cv6uY0K3pvGNno46RPqNTFSWg_OrV-Pca-e2mwKKKBfxq_KEJtEOkTD60KxRi_Hn-mCwu74frvL5_qwAae2ws5EKN8hm8/s1000/DSC_6155.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="667" data-original-width="1000" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYwEHLTfl66t85fA5ePw_fPPPSHfJssCtFiRPcBPLqkKf4K75NeUyzxOsbLCjUYGqONq8J0vVpiYG5o_50XDbE9_E_zf6cv6uY0K3pvGNno46RPqNTFSWg_OrV-Pca-e2mwKKKBfxq_KEJtEOkTD60KxRi_Hn-mCwu74frvL5_qwAae2ws5EKN8hm8/w400-h266/DSC_6155.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Never smile at a crocodile...<br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjia5BGypMh46aaw1wSmxURYcjerUp1Xg63wW4tNRKPjjJMISWueNSUBydHzIf3QugCEYP2hYLhKMOp-qlj1By-cboYJ5BzX0ZQW6tfyJjHNPF0DZmqKmLnYTcmCV0Nkcz_-DkNhRtxuIN17Z2-k5qZe7pb0QxVv13EQGcxZK2zIHmsot5qWodsqJat/s1000/DSC_6209.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="667" data-original-width="1000" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjia5BGypMh46aaw1wSmxURYcjerUp1Xg63wW4tNRKPjjJMISWueNSUBydHzIf3QugCEYP2hYLhKMOp-qlj1By-cboYJ5BzX0ZQW6tfyJjHNPF0DZmqKmLnYTcmCV0Nkcz_-DkNhRtxuIN17Z2-k5qZe7pb0QxVv13EQGcxZK2zIHmsot5qWodsqJat/w400-h266/DSC_6209.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">White-faced ducks and a photobombing darter<br /><br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVw3CO9Jd5dShE0Va_1EaLFGNB_dV_SbebrQVSJV2BBkBVI6G6-2dwp5ZPgtOrqHd3sbY7TgNRYh7QzUatVq9baM9DKrnsiaULu1TfIFeNKESkLdNjNelVR5HOIgvhMPncn7SR4ww1XXZlE834HPzscRduQdNaWbaC-zDtpSubdHpkF7ANUiRG7WkT/s1000/DSC_6233.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="667" data-original-width="1000" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVw3CO9Jd5dShE0Va_1EaLFGNB_dV_SbebrQVSJV2BBkBVI6G6-2dwp5ZPgtOrqHd3sbY7TgNRYh7QzUatVq9baM9DKrnsiaULu1TfIFeNKESkLdNjNelVR5HOIgvhMPncn7SR4ww1XXZlE834HPzscRduQdNaWbaC-zDtpSubdHpkF7ANUiRG7WkT/w400-h266/DSC_6233.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I'm all eyes (and ears and nostrils)<br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZ7caelFdaSosC9mJ3plITQuQzQm8ZsuSusndWclVC-xw-urBm4Rqn47I9zE0BmTKQZwXuWM2H8aNcF6gVidLUpvJ7KI5IpbT2Dc7cmzq4HWIL5nIEiZTAe81WfPrKZp5INDostL51-x-wBUjLuLaNvyBkEpypo7AUuJt9mzpnvvRjbX6EZYICKbix/s1000/DSC_6285.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="667" data-original-width="1000" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZ7caelFdaSosC9mJ3plITQuQzQm8ZsuSusndWclVC-xw-urBm4Rqn47I9zE0BmTKQZwXuWM2H8aNcF6gVidLUpvJ7KI5IpbT2Dc7cmzq4HWIL5nIEiZTAe81WfPrKZp5INDostL51-x-wBUjLuLaNvyBkEpypo7AUuJt9mzpnvvRjbX6EZYICKbix/w400-h266/DSC_6285.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mud shower<br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><span style="text-align: justify;">That afternoon, after a delicious lunch back at the campsite, we dropped Stanley's roof and set off into Chobe. We had visited several times before (or in Terri's case, nearly a dozen times), but we were surprised at what we found. The tracks were in terrible condition, requiring low-range 4WD and lowered tire pressures, while the excellent signage that we remembered from the past was a distant memory, with many signs fallen over or faded to illegibility. We drove around, slighly disoriented (our Garmin GPS unit wasn't functioning at all well!) while the skies darkened ominously and distant booms of thunder echoed across the landscape. We saw lots of impala, lechwe and elephants, and even a couple of puku, but overall there was little game except along the riverfront, and the tracks there were deeply rutted and hard driving, something that we didn't remember from previous visits. Eventually, as the skies turned completely black, we found the main track and headed back towards the entrance gate. Luckily we ran into a safari vehicle that had found a magnificent male lion, so we stopped and gazed at him for a while before bolting towards the exit. The rain caught us two kilometres short in a blinding downpour that luckily only lasted a few minutes, and we squelched back to town and a meal in the Indian restaurant next to our campsite.</span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGfhfJNE3JMnyLlrQXMLeHe1CseCtp6dDRydAf5v4hAntyXTuPSIqJR6aJlB2qPfQpPvz17jMH5heFOnntAxXaKb6SI83eY6O3d-eQiO331P-9MMt9ahx_zUGRo2rVNk9yynVW0s7y0wBldwAtxtkNCe6J5yE9zObP1UeMO6ud7zgVg1FtfQ11SlJR/s1000/DSC_6254.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1000" data-original-width="667" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGfhfJNE3JMnyLlrQXMLeHe1CseCtp6dDRydAf5v4hAntyXTuPSIqJR6aJlB2qPfQpPvz17jMH5heFOnntAxXaKb6SI83eY6O3d-eQiO331P-9MMt9ahx_zUGRo2rVNk9yynVW0s7y0wBldwAtxtkNCe6J5yE9zObP1UeMO6ud7zgVg1FtfQ11SlJR/w266-h400/DSC_6254.jpg" width="266" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">African openbill</td></tr></tbody></table>We spent the next two days relaxing in our camp, enjoying the facilities, swimming, reading, playing chess (for me) with a German tourist on a giant board by the pool, editing videos and planning for the next stage of our journey. Stanley's electrical system developed an annoying fault that cost us the use of our interior LED lights; Oskar and I spent a couple of hours diagnosing the problem without fully resolving it; it's either a software fault in the solar controller, or else a short circuit in the circuit running from the solar controller to the storage batteries, but we couldn't locate any short circuits. I think we will take Stanley in for an electrical checkup here in Livingstone!</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHW8FGsSoDF-weu3zMvgnNrGdorlIDSIygvRye8sSKiagDwkrA2E98-yquc1YwE4ZcWD2Atfuy7qt3qPHQAvcPRPtfaUKcCl4UMleXhRIMkw_0to79hzvyugpmnn8mUE1eVITTiIv51DEi2Za09XhQZn_X7YcIxUsdpYXG0UTJ5Dn6m1VPAUUmjfmM/s1000/DSC_6352.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="667" data-original-width="1000" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHW8FGsSoDF-weu3zMvgnNrGdorlIDSIygvRye8sSKiagDwkrA2E98-yquc1YwE4ZcWD2Atfuy7qt3qPHQAvcPRPtfaUKcCl4UMleXhRIMkw_0to79hzvyugpmnn8mUE1eVITTiIv51DEi2Za09XhQZn_X7YcIxUsdpYXG0UTJ5Dn6m1VPAUUmjfmM/w400-h266/DSC_6352.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Giant kingfisher<br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><span style="text-align: justify;">October 22nd found us checking out of Kasane, buying water (we had completely drained our water supply and not found anywhere with good, fresh, non-salty water for days), fuel (much cheaper in Botswana than in Zambia) and food before heading to a garage in nearby Kazungula to figure out why we had an annoying rattle in our engine. Frank, a burly Zambian mechanic running Mario's Garage, diagnosed it instantly as a broken bearing on a tensioning wheel for our air conditioner, and within an hour he had fixed it for 400 pula (about US$ 30), including a new bearing, which seemed like a pretty good deal. We headed to the new Kazungula Bridge and drove across, past a long lineup of waiting transport trucks. It was a relatively quick and efficient process checking out of Botswana and into Zambia, featuring our first use of our Carnet de Passage en Douanes. By 2:30 we were driving east towards Livingstone, and by nightfall we had new SIM cards in our phones and were camped in the spacious, leafy surroundings of Tabonina Bis Guesthouse.</span></div><div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">It was a slighly bittersweet experience to visit Botswana in 2022. Both Terri and I felt as though the country and its institutions, including its prized wildlife parks, have deteriorated over the past 5 years, perhaps because of the effects of covid-19, perhaps as a result of political changes and infighting between the current president Mokgweetsi Masisi, and his predecessor Ian Khama. Whatever the cause, things just didn't seem to work as well as they did in 2016: the internet, cellular data, roads, the tracks into and through wildlife reserves, the facilities within national parks, the general mood on the streets. I hope that Botswana does manage to regain its mojo, as I have always looked at it as one of the best-run countries on the continent, with a good education system and a large, prosperous middle class. Fingers crossed for the future.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGFFuWh3In-hIkQUpvsxn4rkzZEHPoQZHkCpro3mMepgYUqgMntif0bBOz1WyB9vtsv4CTzPahb11O6_vJ9cWMOj54qRoU-mWtWL8gsSPLlin0kR_gkx5zYkIm18qr962xWZ4hI82vNb1fiL5TleMcZ90edSvc9QWaL3FHtO9Z1qZ-nZ3XOSvRhKAg/s1000/DSC_6312.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="667" data-original-width="1000" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGFFuWh3In-hIkQUpvsxn4rkzZEHPoQZHkCpro3mMepgYUqgMntif0bBOz1WyB9vtsv4CTzPahb11O6_vJ9cWMOj54qRoU-mWtWL8gsSPLlin0kR_gkx5zYkIm18qr962xWZ4hI82vNb1fiL5TleMcZ90edSvc9QWaL3FHtO9Z1qZ-nZ3XOSvRhKAg/w400-h266/DSC_6312.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Goliath heron<br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvaU70OGsLk_n_YgcVZJFz9McBDAaYwJdpLouMCfFOTNuvEhWnZ7tUdJtpKQRZbO24jIdZ18lJ4yxBdSYYt8sKHR4DVT21QlHf6Sd7rCp0406Ctd47KnGm_hyVjGmtqiW5BrDS-7XGFSDNnn79nyRW-rL0wr0PYVq5lsFs_HH2_7t0YhWEBMV-tplJ/s1000/DSC_6369.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="667" data-original-width="1000" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvaU70OGsLk_n_YgcVZJFz9McBDAaYwJdpLouMCfFOTNuvEhWnZ7tUdJtpKQRZbO24jIdZ18lJ4yxBdSYYt8sKHR4DVT21QlHf6Sd7rCp0406Ctd47KnGm_hyVjGmtqiW5BrDS-7XGFSDNnn79nyRW-rL0wr0PYVq5lsFs_HH2_7t0YhWEBMV-tplJ/w400-h266/DSC_6369.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">African darter<br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">We should be here for a couple of weeks (at least) while Terri does some administration at Olive Tree Learning Centre, and then it will be time to head north towards Lusaka and the Tanzanian border beyond, probably via stops at Kasanka National Park, Mutinondo Wilderness and lovely Kapishya Hot Springs.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihxKriE7cYZXYd_qsCTkuSfPCaWWdHPs-MfN-acwh0bE94C88E36eQhWttcR2lbjJAeXq_fgiLtwhC9KoTPWRT5MRIU6FDnol8LHJPX1i4AW4jYo4UPAY8II1VmLjo44R50v9GFoe9zWxzF-P6gNaR0zCBeBTNZN7g_CbQeYkCrHltWtLatLjzNk0F/s1000/DSC_6442.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="667" data-original-width="1000" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihxKriE7cYZXYd_qsCTkuSfPCaWWdHPs-MfN-acwh0bE94C88E36eQhWttcR2lbjJAeXq_fgiLtwhC9KoTPWRT5MRIU6FDnol8LHJPX1i4AW4jYo4UPAY8II1VmLjo44R50v9GFoe9zWxzF-P6gNaR0zCBeBTNZN7g_CbQeYkCrHltWtLatLjzNk0F/w400-h266/DSC_6442.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Elephants swarming Chobe Riverfront<br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_3sNCZTGv3wg54bcynlDlwD9KiMKYrfG-tkx3ongac-wFQ642KQQOYbHRZkdCuFXECJC0iWinpnTlMIS-POenE2rROMm1IigBSELYp_8ybbSOxkvvmWGnRwMKZB084yLzDtqGJGqIhBecRp9o-XvrzsIpvMDiDbQUSFAWJHkl8CjHCDtR7lIuAxU8/s1000/DSC_6429.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="667" data-original-width="1000" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_3sNCZTGv3wg54bcynlDlwD9KiMKYrfG-tkx3ongac-wFQ642KQQOYbHRZkdCuFXECJC0iWinpnTlMIS-POenE2rROMm1IigBSELYp_8ybbSOxkvvmWGnRwMKZB084yLzDtqGJGqIhBecRp9o-XvrzsIpvMDiDbQUSFAWJHkl8CjHCDtR7lIuAxU8/w400-h266/DSC_6429.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Pied kingfisher<br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><span style="text-align: justify;">We have just learned in the past few days that Ethiopia, a key country in the Cape Town-Cairo route up the east side of Africa, has introduced some frankly insane rules regarding bringing our own car into the country; travellers have been asked to post bonds of US$ 80,000 or more (in cash!!) to guarantee that the vehicles will leave Ethiopia without being sold. This is exactly what the Carnet de Passage en Douanes system is designed for, so it's annoying that Ethiopia doesn't simply join the carnet system. This may mean (if the rules aren't amended) that we might not make it through Ethiopia, and that we might have to drive south again and ship the car from Cape Town to Europe so that we can drive south again along the west coast of Africa. Stay tuned for updates!!</span></div><div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGONGRA0ktXQB7Ex1H0HIuIiYR-hlJ_9MpJ1BCn73b6VF2r9brzOL1-O2IM4SGezwnDJ42aTeKq_hTAU2fTo4IhzdNhjHY5o0HEpuq2AocKi1PTyilKplEALhYej7ZWnsrPPHgXC4_abTs-us_Sk6JDtIC9AdWXypHJcEgeWL_1ECuiX-QoDHynDUV/s1000/DSC_6470.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="667" data-original-width="1000" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGONGRA0ktXQB7Ex1H0HIuIiYR-hlJ_9MpJ1BCn73b6VF2r9brzOL1-O2IM4SGezwnDJ42aTeKq_hTAU2fTo4IhzdNhjHY5o0HEpuq2AocKi1PTyilKplEALhYej7ZWnsrPPHgXC4_abTs-us_Sk6JDtIC9AdWXypHJcEgeWL_1ECuiX-QoDHynDUV/w640-h426/DSC_6470.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Our farewell-to-Chobe lion<br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table></div></div></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-635211973012255844.post-76541119440690706782022-10-11T05:46:00.008-07:002022-10-11T05:46:59.575-07:00Underway: Sprinting through the Kalahari<div style="text-align: justify;"><iframe height="480" src="https://www.google.com/maps/d/embed?mid=136JF5-xHckIQxQNgrKYzY4BVxMbXc5s&ehbc=2E312F" width="640"></iframe></div><p style="text-align: justify;"> </p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDMjPTC4oKPpUKWZjIceIL1fmOh3chpbsX1_WxgwdCBOYsUivNBJTXgk2bIUGo3JEdUJ0pQ7fDLKQ-CvH9-Gsjc6PA5K-mZqf-cS61UQn37kIKCwL2Uqpzs1ap3kJWjXbsHjeqgXOu8U3PuFLMlP1wFyjSiOEYfhg2WsGDedNLChPfChVvBv0fedCk/s1000/DSC_5116.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="667" data-original-width="1000" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDMjPTC4oKPpUKWZjIceIL1fmOh3chpbsX1_WxgwdCBOYsUivNBJTXgk2bIUGo3JEdUJ0pQ7fDLKQ-CvH9-Gsjc6PA5K-mZqf-cS61UQn37kIKCwL2Uqpzs1ap3kJWjXbsHjeqgXOu8U3PuFLMlP1wFyjSiOEYfhg2WsGDedNLChPfChVvBv0fedCk/w640-h426/DSC_5116.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Departure from Cape Town (at long last!)</td></tr></tbody></table><p style="text-align: justify;">Drifters Camp, Maun, Botswana</p><p style="text-align: justify;">Terri and I are relaxing here in rather idyllic conditions, in an overlander camp right on the banks of the Boteti River, full of birdsong and flowers and peace and quiet. It's a great place to take a couple of days off from travelling and recharge physically after setting a fairly gruelling pace for the first week of our expedition, which we have christened Stanley's Travels: the CEC Expedition, where CEC stands for Cape Town-Europe-Cape Town, our intended overall route.</p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhr0ZWgoSWA9iNpaEtua5oJ_x124x8sUlYf7vfLOg_1W_rCFDYetycTR2a05-sgE2daTUlzSU1640oVcg4CEQVjtIlAA-CfJYbGZMMc8razihEh3Z0xw4nG1UFeV526DvMYC_z0Qc1tTiMtH-ISfluBUhBWehWPcJx7QZ1pVTgkv-qv2-DMsFf7f4Ps/s1000/DSC_5157.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="667" data-original-width="1000" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhr0ZWgoSWA9iNpaEtua5oJ_x124x8sUlYf7vfLOg_1W_rCFDYetycTR2a05-sgE2daTUlzSU1640oVcg4CEQVjtIlAA-CfJYbGZMMc8razihEh3Z0xw4nG1UFeV526DvMYC_z0Qc1tTiMtH-ISfluBUhBWehWPcJx7QZ1pVTgkv-qv2-DMsFf7f4Ps/w400-h266/DSC_5157.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The call of the open road!<br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1wJpAlKfIEkzWvL771QPyluOrkA-7FDXCMRfhWhxvHgSzxbxaTFHbGYwuBMrkUALjNm5V0SWZXdtx-nw-T5aeGekzV3bnD7cir1sxXltMjk0ROqQJd_a2IDQqX8W8Kq0ZUDQE94T2PA-Fq366vaqoMHmMGLDTIMzhBF8KeCzWYKoRlusvyRZKiADA/s1000/DSC_5178.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="667" data-original-width="1000" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1wJpAlKfIEkzWvL771QPyluOrkA-7FDXCMRfhWhxvHgSzxbxaTFHbGYwuBMrkUALjNm5V0SWZXdtx-nw-T5aeGekzV3bnD7cir1sxXltMjk0ROqQJd_a2IDQqX8W8Kq0ZUDQE94T2PA-Fq366vaqoMHmMGLDTIMzhBF8KeCzWYKoRlusvyRZKiADA/w400-h266/DSC_5178.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Camping in Brandvlei<br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><p style="text-align: justify;">After a few days of last-minute preparation, repairs and shopping (including having a small incipient crack in our chassis welded), we set off from our little guest house in Kuilsrivier (another suburb of Cape Town, where we had been staying since our return from Hermanus on Sept. 28) on the morning of Sunday, October 2nd. We were both anxious to get moving after spending too much time (and money) waiting in Cape Town for things to get done. It was exciting to load everything into Stanley, lock the hatches and drive off (via one last stop at Cape Gate shopping mall, where we had spent a lot of time over the previous two weeks, to exchange some cables and a hard drive which weren't the right thing). It was a long drive north through increasingly arid landscape and then up and over the steep Van Rhyn pass to get into the Karoo, the interior plateau that makes up so much of the land mass of South Africa. We drove along, past rocky outcrops and clusters of purple wildflowers and big nests built by crows atop telephone poles, through a landscape increasingly devoid of human settlement, to the tiny, dusty one-horse town of Brandvlei, where we found a small campground at the Halfpad tourist house, popped up Stanley's roof and slept in him for the first time in over four years. It felt unspeakably good finally to be underway on our trip after four years of planning and waiting, and three weeks in Cape Town. We cooked up some boerewors on a charcoal fire, and went to bed happy after our first 550 kilometres.</p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj077pbZ1VMK-mmKsNN5A45BMZ6MrDNOnpYS6kyoj1C764X8vlJ_01pA2UWzf8kefoANTBHpIw_WPy9FCqXtSC3zcL9KslPw8e1UtYIwBizrFm-sCmbICftAOJB9cf4a3oiMSFVjEv1JHof5UPexpDSvtRN8gTuCE521hLED-N4JRm1vyHXlc-BPU0n/s1000/DSC_5141.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="667" data-original-width="1000" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj077pbZ1VMK-mmKsNN5A45BMZ6MrDNOnpYS6kyoj1C764X8vlJ_01pA2UWzf8kefoANTBHpIw_WPy9FCqXtSC3zcL9KslPw8e1UtYIwBizrFm-sCmbICftAOJB9cf4a3oiMSFVjEv1JHof5UPexpDSvtRN8gTuCE521hLED-N4JRm1vyHXlc-BPU0n/w400-h266/DSC_5141.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A purple carpet for the Karoo<br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifTr0x9GOJtb7lhxNiQY7upQr01URJzaNsvWXOm76RilCa5Eemo_DH-JNuHwugpXVMsSAONaWw5NSsUSAnG-If8GTPWaoPSvJHnicOu8G2WfrI-cCmxlArJhL5MwJGNpg_kG6SjTetdchbcbPEsgy59YCwV_q_SfKpKUmzRuzIwEsIgsVDngvwLoKd/s1000/DSC_5125.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="666" data-original-width="1000" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifTr0x9GOJtb7lhxNiQY7upQr01URJzaNsvWXOm76RilCa5Eemo_DH-JNuHwugpXVMsSAONaWw5NSsUSAnG-If8GTPWaoPSvJHnicOu8G2WfrI-cCmxlArJhL5MwJGNpg_kG6SjTetdchbcbPEsgy59YCwV_q_SfKpKUmzRuzIwEsIgsVDngvwLoKd/w400-h266/DSC_5125.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The purple flowers that lined our route<br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTRsyJC_BhYVes3Zq2CE45sVHMtIwW0I6-DYn8wq8b-mLj7vhjasNpkcHFiyAc9gzjUfL8rsLErOiel43wY9bJqGJ-0vaB-AM5jdCME8DdaVDyuHNVcVHUoMkC-t8aLwnU0t3PoLoLKEVhrqaEtxLu9zRKRJ2Ul6KqYLDAL2g89zt9PHLrJwgLNpSY/s1000/DSC_5194.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1000" data-original-width="667" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTRsyJC_BhYVes3Zq2CE45sVHMtIwW0I6-DYn8wq8b-mLj7vhjasNpkcHFiyAc9gzjUfL8rsLErOiel43wY9bJqGJ-0vaB-AM5jdCME8DdaVDyuHNVcVHUoMkC-t8aLwnU0t3PoLoLKEVhrqaEtxLu9zRKRJ2Ul6KqYLDAL2g89zt9PHLrJwgLNpSY/w266-h400/DSC_5194.jpg" width="266" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Khi Solar One power plant, Upington</td></tr></tbody></table><p style="text-align: justify;">We woke up refreshed and ready to continue our dash north. We headed up through Kalahari landscape, with more vast emptiness punctuated by sudden splashes of colour from wildflowers. The previous day's crow's nests atop telephone poles were replaced by enormous nest complexes woven by sociable weavers which almost enveloped entire poles, occasionally toppling them over from the sheer weight of twigs. We eventually dropped into the valley of the Orange River and made our way through irrigated vineyards (a shocking contrast to the drab colours of the Kalahari) into the town of Upington, where <a href="https://graydonstravels.blogspot.com/2016/12/closing-loop-last-leg-of-stanleys.html" target="_blank">we had spent a few days back in 2016</a>. We marvelled again at the Death Star-like solar plant Khi Solar One on the outskirts of town. We did some last-minute shopping and I made a vain attempt to convert some Swiss francs into US dollars before giving up and driving off. We drove past a series of pans, including one used for setting land speed records, then passed a series of parallel red sand dunes before making our way into Kalahari Trails, where a meerkat sanctuary helps to rehabilitate former pets back into life in the wild. No sooner had we arrived than a wild group of meerkats, including an enormously pregnant matriarch, showed up and looked photogenic for us. We set up camp and settled in for three days in this idyllic spot.</p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEin_M1l3_8q2U5QGZeTg1OqVxcCKFWu2FZEPFC6mH6Y4kj-ImvV3UV840-H9xAFSizzR-ZgQedP1hv3iLGAFmFoPC005TouCQ15GZgqaSUP67B6TOYbTUo17BVCflAwVtQ_FDS-Ei8Yyx5wPDxU4qBzFpcy_WwPwxMCef6Bixat0hE3zWtf6h-O1umo/s1000/DSC_5189.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="667" data-original-width="1000" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEin_M1l3_8q2U5QGZeTg1OqVxcCKFWu2FZEPFC6mH6Y4kj-ImvV3UV840-H9xAFSizzR-ZgQedP1hv3iLGAFmFoPC005TouCQ15GZgqaSUP67B6TOYbTUo17BVCflAwVtQ_FDS-Ei8Yyx5wPDxU4qBzFpcy_WwPwxMCef6Bixat0hE3zWtf6h-O1umo/w400-h266/DSC_5189.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sociable weaver nests<br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><p style="text-align: justify;"><br /></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvF3ntAwQ395g4SuHI8YYq39HnoB4Sq7yAlf4fhtpcjuxIhf-Vd-UXhfgld_mGj2Ezq1IgxtAIwmeACxflCthdEwAs68Ws4YZnQ5yv8bNcSxS2y86g7dzaHh5bnY7U3ryyOYd9XrsRxWJk7jOHrhkZ74r-DQ1rUcDQWtMjIvsiJsuQpg9pECy5UCJq/s1000/DSC_5224.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="667" data-original-width="1000" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvF3ntAwQ395g4SuHI8YYq39HnoB4Sq7yAlf4fhtpcjuxIhf-Vd-UXhfgld_mGj2Ezq1IgxtAIwmeACxflCthdEwAs68Ws4YZnQ5yv8bNcSxS2y86g7dzaHh5bnY7U3ryyOYd9XrsRxWJk7jOHrhkZ74r-DQ1rUcDQWtMjIvsiJsuQpg9pECy5UCJq/w400-h266/DSC_5224.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Return to the Kalahari!</td></tr></tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpr9EW36vSW3BJ3xDsW2bU0MMGMmLUqtKHVRPKk9l7R3Mn4Aa2XXL7y5SAoe7CXH795xofrm1iNsQB8qXl2DTc66YPd-ZrWdJ7f8fgwQ26OqdkOxLtBrsO9b_JizOQbW3ZiPJ5hAAhSnUD740eXyE4fTN2y2urfGIo4mEBh-7PNTwbsdUxZk3E4JGf/s1000/DSC_5198.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1000" data-original-width="667" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpr9EW36vSW3BJ3xDsW2bU0MMGMmLUqtKHVRPKk9l7R3Mn4Aa2XXL7y5SAoe7CXH795xofrm1iNsQB8qXl2DTc66YPd-ZrWdJ7f8fgwQ26OqdkOxLtBrsO9b_JizOQbW3ZiPJ5hAAhSnUD740eXyE4fTN2y2urfGIo4mEBh-7PNTwbsdUxZk3E4JGf/w266-h400/DSC_5198.jpg" width="266" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Meerkat family at Kalahari Trails</td></tr></tbody></table><p style="text-align: justify;">The first day there we walked (and jogged) around the property, climbing dunes and then dropping down into the flat land between. There are no lions or hyenas on the property, so we weren't worried about unfortunate predator encounters, but we did see springbok and gemsbok (oryx) grazing or bounding away through the veldt. In the afternoon Mareli, the resident guide and meerkat whisperer, took us to see the group of young rehab animals who were hanging out at one of the other campsites on the property. We spent a happy hour taking photos, watching the meerkats scurry around and dig for scorpions, and even picking them up (they're very habituated to people, from being former pets and from being handled by Mareli). Meerkats are incredibly charismatic creatures, perhaps partly because they seem so humanoid when they stand on their hind legs to look around. It was an unforgettable afternoon, followed by a stunning sunset over the dunes.</p><p style="text-align: justify;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><br /></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPQ6bV9gciRX8wSKIBHS-HNp-0D10yQv2fUAVPRpgmbYrvTiRZJAC4Y4Fw4SaGzGk4kZlKO5FsmIO3UvmfNbCtotls6VRvOwS_AyR6gJxY-ow09K1WDGPcOzl7R-r7N6nyfhpaUZl0wJuKj3nZ5mxwdWFBAZCa1I92UZX3ZeUHnydIXYA0zRzW9RHy/s1000/DSC_5217.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1000" data-original-width="667" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPQ6bV9gciRX8wSKIBHS-HNp-0D10yQv2fUAVPRpgmbYrvTiRZJAC4Y4Fw4SaGzGk4kZlKO5FsmIO3UvmfNbCtotls6VRvOwS_AyR6gJxY-ow09K1WDGPcOzl7R-r7N6nyfhpaUZl0wJuKj3nZ5mxwdWFBAZCa1I92UZX3ZeUHnydIXYA0zRzW9RHy/w266-h400/DSC_5217.jpg" width="266" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Typical meerkat pose<br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLeKLJzVNOys7vHBh4OOTAed-2s6S_XKMLx7uznlI7VZZAWNrTVb0uHTXjTRttsawqKcL91A5gVDlKLZJhPUGUp7fb0-JL0VTrqDlHiybIiA6q1rHXHEedOBqVeAyqaZBoKJKNh7266lwQZiKyfSjYNKqUiqm3sU-fbam5YXn6qSzFPLVxrbuJpsRw/s1000/DSC_5282.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="667" data-original-width="1000" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLeKLJzVNOys7vHBh4OOTAed-2s6S_XKMLx7uznlI7VZZAWNrTVb0uHTXjTRttsawqKcL91A5gVDlKLZJhPUGUp7fb0-JL0VTrqDlHiybIiA6q1rHXHEedOBqVeAyqaZBoKJKNh7266lwQZiKyfSjYNKqUiqm3sU-fbam5YXn6qSzFPLVxrbuJpsRw/w400-h266/DSC_5282.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mareli uses hands-free mode<br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEje0wN9yNZqBbIB81G91I9wi2ziyleV3Tv4e3LGc4Jmcd7cOy9VANKkbHTb9QbZvzuOcVKhh1k7iB5CxWfQO7HEdswAAyFZ1qdcnnyuyTYVMtZyuF6eKheI2BmdZOZwMqm1fGr27XG51H_5_tjlywJp8B0kfNViqUnkhhALvp7bwWhuYi1hFxVZmUk3/s1000/DSC_5316.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1000" data-original-width="667" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEje0wN9yNZqBbIB81G91I9wi2ziyleV3Tv4e3LGc4Jmcd7cOy9VANKkbHTb9QbZvzuOcVKhh1k7iB5CxWfQO7HEdswAAyFZ1qdcnnyuyTYVMtZyuF6eKheI2BmdZOZwMqm1fGr27XG51H_5_tjlywJp8B0kfNViqUnkhhALvp7bwWhuYi1hFxVZmUk3/w266-h400/DSC_5316.jpg" width="266" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Terri and Fleur the meerkat<br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHaV8GFI0spkShw4J3Oudvj40VM0liuYsvVpt27INcKP6hvgIcwXYGVDY_usKflhVFFIOjkfm1WFvkmfKlEhicXyK8w0X3yLGfWluo7oRmssK9FycGAayy4bdr8m5WLrho6pnJ0fJmLlYM6_5Yt4EVTi09xgMkxZlhO8BQXkhYtVfy5ZPrbfvRxrUn/s1000/DSC_5321.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1000" data-original-width="667" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHaV8GFI0spkShw4J3Oudvj40VM0liuYsvVpt27INcKP6hvgIcwXYGVDY_usKflhVFFIOjkfm1WFvkmfKlEhicXyK8w0X3yLGfWluo7oRmssK9FycGAayy4bdr8m5WLrho6pnJ0fJmLlYM6_5Yt4EVTi09xgMkxZlhO8BQXkhYtVfy5ZPrbfvRxrUn/w266-h400/DSC_5321.jpg" width="266" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">You lookin' at me?<br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwiwGZludem4KuAmexhEYZwtBVmGL_zXJQSpGRd7gpStw8VCqZj3gzoJ7e-Y5PrF_5aQQG57Ql74YYpBU3IiI4U_ny6uZM7KSQTelkbiZr7PSzjJn3RwrZKjvB3dzfAiHYsjzV4jv5_YKIq2ASO7IaZOPMVxhjiGEj12xw8nNmp4uPfYLvtpGm-Ofn/s1000/DSC_5240.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="667" data-original-width="1000" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwiwGZludem4KuAmexhEYZwtBVmGL_zXJQSpGRd7gpStw8VCqZj3gzoJ7e-Y5PrF_5aQQG57Ql74YYpBU3IiI4U_ny6uZM7KSQTelkbiZr7PSzjJn3RwrZKjvB3dzfAiHYsjzV4jv5_YKIq2ASO7IaZOPMVxhjiGEj12xw8nNmp4uPfYLvtpGm-Ofn/w400-h266/DSC_5240.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Gemsbok<br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><p style="text-align: justify;">On October 5th we got up at an ungodly hour, pulled down Stanley's roof and set off for a day of game spotting in the Kgalagadi Transfrontier Park. We pulled up at the park gate at 6 am to find that the gate only opened at 7, so we sat and read until the staff drove up, processed us and let us into the park. We set off immediately up the dry Nossob River in search of the lions and cheetahs <a href="https://graydonstravels.blogspot.com/2017/03/country-interrupted-south-africa-and-24.html" target="_blank">we had seen before back in 2017</a>. We weren't so lucky this day, but at least we spotted lots of wildebeest, springbok, ostrich and gemsbok. After a brunch stop beside the road, and then a nap back at Twee Rivieren gate, we set off again in the late afternoon.We were rewarded for persistence when we saw meerkats in the wild for the first time; Terri spotted two separate groups and we sat and watched their amusing antics until it was time to drive back to Kalahari Trails, tired but happy after a day watching some of Nature's most interesting creatures.</p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrZxxJ7D4KtyeC0R7U__EOXNQyxUfdtfva20mzR4e7t9W_HnDruVssuiQEBwXFXpj8b96W1eeG_8WpQ78TO7UgEgZzssHdODspnntAU_1QUZ7KwD8DIRNbNhDnNW6B7gtadOlbiB6f_l7cGd_KziSziBBwLgFxLAj-3gxuyW3e5Rpl7rdLre0sEtgN/s1000/DSC_5262.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="667" data-original-width="1000" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrZxxJ7D4KtyeC0R7U__EOXNQyxUfdtfva20mzR4e7t9W_HnDruVssuiQEBwXFXpj8b96W1eeG_8WpQ78TO7UgEgZzssHdODspnntAU_1QUZ7KwD8DIRNbNhDnNW6B7gtadOlbiB6f_l7cGd_KziSziBBwLgFxLAj-3gxuyW3e5Rpl7rdLre0sEtgN/w400-h266/DSC_5262.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Colour in the desert<br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZpZL0-3hOIwv3EpTTfnKqvKTlVlYgPh589lnrKNDNlpzHe0onoptreuN7EWraPvTmmRoP_tCKfuMsBd4i1F6g8vfDJ8EaPRmjKsHHH3AtXlGX-a_XjPopvz9CNWg2qjx3YfHGBW0rK-SzgrjgeeFCVVTWDZEwARdedd_HWQF3-epBj6F_04PFOqJQ/s1000/DSC_5364.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="667" data-original-width="1000" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZpZL0-3hOIwv3EpTTfnKqvKTlVlYgPh589lnrKNDNlpzHe0onoptreuN7EWraPvTmmRoP_tCKfuMsBd4i1F6g8vfDJ8EaPRmjKsHHH3AtXlGX-a_XjPopvz9CNWg2qjx3YfHGBW0rK-SzgrjgeeFCVVTWDZEwARdedd_HWQF3-epBj6F_04PFOqJQ/w400-h266/DSC_5364.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Eurasian hobby<br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_P1xMKkG_GeBK049TilBoVUaLy_Iy5vYOrQO46-TzQ0AlOAp8SXhk2D7oeBRnlN6IRWqyktpaM8ymx4QBYMrQuarOMKLADEDQrB5Hv_hJZ8Lvt1I7H9b946DBDrYIVanSxlIFEvWN7LOdh5I84DedTquSYLCuUVTla1Xhpf-GEB2hI3QyFtXy0dN_/s1000/DSC_5373.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="667" data-original-width="1000" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_P1xMKkG_GeBK049TilBoVUaLy_Iy5vYOrQO46-TzQ0AlOAp8SXhk2D7oeBRnlN6IRWqyktpaM8ymx4QBYMrQuarOMKLADEDQrB5Hv_hJZ8Lvt1I7H9b946DBDrYIVanSxlIFEvWN7LOdh5I84DedTquSYLCuUVTla1Xhpf-GEB2hI3QyFtXy0dN_/w400-h266/DSC_5373.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Pale chanting goshawk<br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfbz8rAN4pPcD7SzZhc6G9avUInjhE-E0HJ-TGehze1UcrVFzIbNxRpJtEEzTfCblZdq9F21hdgB37Odxp1i_K40W2XYIxatH4fuqBnF5SE90ddjpvOhJfTaLTajmmyRPD-U-erV8UWavh__omnYihxJ6PWp3jevRXuaSn6beVB4gXQRER0v_Kgv3c/s1000/DSC_5386.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="667" data-original-width="1000" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfbz8rAN4pPcD7SzZhc6G9avUInjhE-E0HJ-TGehze1UcrVFzIbNxRpJtEEzTfCblZdq9F21hdgB37Odxp1i_K40W2XYIxatH4fuqBnF5SE90ddjpvOhJfTaLTajmmyRPD-U-erV8UWavh__omnYihxJ6PWp3jevRXuaSn6beVB4gXQRER0v_Kgv3c/w400-h266/DSC_5386.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Wildebeest<br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiV9S5Smsemlk_G9rWgTizRNhEFYf29gEqxy0pYzzYs-pLAfrXMO3Sz4BH_5rtZo-gciuiNzf0MDB_cGXQ4cTlXzxHkoTZNh0X5E0m6mQ3G0KD13eh6mWI1ToRM--yVOoITy0NKKZ3r1YX5C15KIfL_-a-5EH_lxXiQyXjWPSRPRcohyqfSe1wcMAnF/s1000/DSC_5395.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="667" data-original-width="1000" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiV9S5Smsemlk_G9rWgTizRNhEFYf29gEqxy0pYzzYs-pLAfrXMO3Sz4BH_5rtZo-gciuiNzf0MDB_cGXQ4cTlXzxHkoTZNh0X5E0m6mQ3G0KD13eh6mWI1ToRM--yVOoITy0NKKZ3r1YX5C15KIfL_-a-5EH_lxXiQyXjWPSRPRcohyqfSe1wcMAnF/w400-h266/DSC_5395.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Secretarybird bestriding the grasslands<br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><p style="text-align: justify;"><br /></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgB15i3A4hzwSzLfn5MbgABKcrO_jKl9QYehR8uGbKVZzbUNWuYhxdXQhgOP_HunU7dLDf6GSMa4d_QZT2EB-bREWvGhvGEI-zY9ryHVu4ofJV4XeBJ9X2aKREgBIk0jikEqz2G_nKb8gpo-kvAiaXXjQ_VUJvJ_1DLT9WXenIDaFVYY-wOFnyTWr9v/s1000/DSC_5400.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="667" data-original-width="1000" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgB15i3A4hzwSzLfn5MbgABKcrO_jKl9QYehR8uGbKVZzbUNWuYhxdXQhgOP_HunU7dLDf6GSMa4d_QZT2EB-bREWvGhvGEI-zY9ryHVu4ofJV4XeBJ9X2aKREgBIk0jikEqz2G_nKb8gpo-kvAiaXXjQ_VUJvJ_1DLT9WXenIDaFVYY-wOFnyTWr9v/w400-h266/DSC_5400.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Springbok<br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhn7LWafBDhFYsjdAtKzCey6zKcsp0ve0DwCQJ-6e7G-OqnU3CO9ZLqQcpC7HMC3GwfQxlw4J5V-GKDQ2nNYsGeECOcYX9tQNR4DkyX8wZAjbqtheSshr3gmx05AH1YhtMvqnuRTE5ISNdP2A1FFZ0QbHE44RKGmejr6QZ6g_n-lXd73QbpCF93nRf3/s1000/DSC_5401.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="667" data-original-width="1000" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhn7LWafBDhFYsjdAtKzCey6zKcsp0ve0DwCQJ-6e7G-OqnU3CO9ZLqQcpC7HMC3GwfQxlw4J5V-GKDQ2nNYsGeECOcYX9tQNR4DkyX8wZAjbqtheSshr3gmx05AH1YhtMvqnuRTE5ISNdP2A1FFZ0QbHE44RKGmejr6QZ6g_n-lXd73QbpCF93nRf3/w400-h266/DSC_5401.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Two lappet-faced and three white-backed vultures</td></tr></tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><p style="text-align: justify;">October 6th saw us crossing the first border of the trip, between South Africa and Botswana at Bokspits. We made a classic rookie error by not checking the border customs requirements of Botswana, which forbids the import of raw meat and some fruits and vegetables. Luckily the customs officers let us lightly cook our sausage and bacon in our frying pan so that it no longer qualified as raw, before letting us go. We drove off shaking our heads at making such an elementary error. The road on the Botswana side was perfectly smooth and utterly empty as we paralleled the border all the way to the town of Tsabong, where we found a place to camp at the Tsabong Camel Park after two abortive attempts to get to a different campground that ended up being closed and derelict.</p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiY_70fHuLe-B9PUYPl8HvAMDcLTWg_zC0nj3460jJu3z_NEwRChueRVp8JhPHyr3eyLVxarmsjhFYx87FhDsLVGf6tAet33dwKcdoyj7vZiTeUIjEaIcYB5byEJSL-IMTSG9Vmidh3a7IIcSPFHMxJQw1eLTM0KwT8Wccnb2qUArOJLpESvS5XAv_k/s1000/DSC_5589.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="667" data-original-width="1000" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiY_70fHuLe-B9PUYPl8HvAMDcLTWg_zC0nj3460jJu3z_NEwRChueRVp8JhPHyr3eyLVxarmsjhFYx87FhDsLVGf6tAet33dwKcdoyj7vZiTeUIjEaIcYB5byEJSL-IMTSG9Vmidh3a7IIcSPFHMxJQw1eLTM0KwT8Wccnb2qUArOJLpESvS5XAv_k/w400-h266/DSC_5589.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Tire pressure lowered to increase tire footprint in soft sand<br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdJJFu5_B419q6WFMw52NrX6mqyQDPjhc0rpL9fOV297GrT_oNuM-IaSL64aJX9OeTlh4w2iSbm35CHk_V3qrfLFZX7gfJWao2iNVyPfkLvdSTAoV3Jcd0XghBByuR-uI0HYfV9Jt9IvgoA3C5KUUEME2CMh1BwDTXIzTSTPSfs37hcH1HSzanf1qD/s1000/DSC_5523.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1000" data-original-width="667" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdJJFu5_B419q6WFMw52NrX6mqyQDPjhc0rpL9fOV297GrT_oNuM-IaSL64aJX9OeTlh4w2iSbm35CHk_V3qrfLFZX7gfJWao2iNVyPfkLvdSTAoV3Jcd0XghBByuR-uI0HYfV9Jt9IvgoA3C5KUUEME2CMh1BwDTXIzTSTPSfs37hcH1HSzanf1qD/w266-h400/DSC_5523.jpg" width="266" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Our resident leopard tortoise</td></tr></tbody></table><p style="text-align: justify;">The following morning we went out for a long walk around the property to stretch our legs after long hours of driving. Then we set off towards the Botswanan side of the Kgalagadi Transfrontier Park, the Mabuasehube sector. It was a grim slog, with the track in much worse shape than <a href="https://graydonstravels.blogspot.com/2016/11/central-and-southern-botswana-charm-of.html" target="_blank">we remembered it from 2016.</a> We deflated our tires for better buoyancy in the sand, changed into low-range four-wheel-drive and Terri drove on, grinding grimly along through soft sand drifts for hours until we finally emerged at the Mabuasehube gate of the KTP. We didn't have reservations, but were hoping to strike it lucky. When we entered the park gate complex, we found nobody at the desk, but eventually a disheveled-looking ranger emerged to let us know that we could camp at Lesholoago Pan for one night and then at Manamodi Pan for a second night. He also warned us that wildfires were raging in the bush. We drove off towards Lesholoago and soon saw what he meant; around us most of the bush was charred black, with some stumps still smouldering. It was an apocalyptic landscape, and one almost entirely bereft of game, except for a few hardy steenbok who were pawing at the blackened grass. We got to Lesholoago and set up camp. It was a lovely spot overlooking the pan, but all around us had been burnt, and it felt ominous. </p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLOZyQmUVAEsSW0bfdcx3c00r_Po8l-pvHIZDMofaTB3JTVCEXxhjo6Ga4_Sj3fo6L4S4ssCxbiGb41RUOtg9r-JSGkzSBS0m4U0lnEmVhfMRwzAhGbfPI4p2KKRdCEBmYGb8PXnM-0GiEYceDO-TIZCWD-C4RJ4zjlH9qNWgQXWX3SU3IBaDN0H3F/s1000/DSC_5526.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="667" data-original-width="1000" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLOZyQmUVAEsSW0bfdcx3c00r_Po8l-pvHIZDMofaTB3JTVCEXxhjo6Ga4_Sj3fo6L4S4ssCxbiGb41RUOtg9r-JSGkzSBS0m4U0lnEmVhfMRwzAhGbfPI4p2KKRdCEBmYGb8PXnM-0GiEYceDO-TIZCWD-C4RJ4zjlH9qNWgQXWX3SU3IBaDN0H3F/w400-h266/DSC_5526.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Lesholoago sunset<br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><p style="text-align: justify;">We had company in the camp: two cheeky ground squirrels, a gaggle of spurfowl, a leopard tortoise sheltering in the latrine building, and a black-backed jackal with sore legs, possibly the result of burning his feet on the hot coals of the ashy veldt. The campsite had a desolate air of decay and neglect, a strong contrast to what we had seen in 2016. We had a wonderful steak dinner grilled over charcoal (our own, not the remnants of the park vegetation!) and sat out watching the sunset and the stars.</p><p style="text-align: justify;"><br /></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiS7rcGeLAFCkj4s-gK4R6gAI3k-mxBxs21WB7DkiT-LoGPB8K1b1puB8cAzERYOaMxKpBr69FHzYeDcJxg3Ld3y7D0TfzBvnP1424SB2QD-i9cGMipS4tJQyOBZw84QIOXXBWKPqQbs2xXegn_i-PpaJ2DXxj_W5mhtFNoguINZUUBAUSg-mB3MBc/s1000/DSC_5534.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="667" data-original-width="1000" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiS7rcGeLAFCkj4s-gK4R6gAI3k-mxBxs21WB7DkiT-LoGPB8K1b1puB8cAzERYOaMxKpBr69FHzYeDcJxg3Ld3y7D0TfzBvnP1424SB2QD-i9cGMipS4tJQyOBZw84QIOXXBWKPqQbs2xXegn_i-PpaJ2DXxj_W5mhtFNoguINZUUBAUSg-mB3MBc/w400-h266/DSC_5534.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Forlorn footsore jackal<br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZnFxJcuIzvQpt3qCo4DEA2kpcK4d01dtTgKm4-5npBdukPD0HZeaapXISTjMZBiJTBEfoiloGqjrWqyuXaznIwdEHLcGSxjUGvTbqCqZYxzqgyNdaoQ6hpmMv7UODofzqQf_O_S2PQbjwJIczpRZNrJwbNB_ltT25oLt7zON42df1bVoINjrkEbnI/s1000/DSC_5568.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="667" data-original-width="1000" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZnFxJcuIzvQpt3qCo4DEA2kpcK4d01dtTgKm4-5npBdukPD0HZeaapXISTjMZBiJTBEfoiloGqjrWqyuXaznIwdEHLcGSxjUGvTbqCqZYxzqgyNdaoQ6hpmMv7UODofzqQf_O_S2PQbjwJIczpRZNrJwbNB_ltT25oLt7zON42df1bVoINjrkEbnI/w400-h266/DSC_5568.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Hyena</td></tr></tbody></table><p style="text-align: justify;">October 8th was a long, hard day. We got up very early, pulled down Stanley's roof, packed up rapidly and were driving by 5:45 in search of game. For several hours we drove along park tracks (thankfully hard-packed enough that Terri could drive them in two-wheel-drive) through a post-apocalyptic grayscale of burnt grass and shrubs. There was almost no game, other than a few hardy steenbok. Eventually we made our way to Mpayathutlwa Pan, the only pan in the area that had so far escaped the fire, and found plenty of game out on the pan, including a magnificent male lion that we saw from a great distance through binoculars. We took some photos, then pushed on to Manamodi Pan, where we had a campsite booked for our second night. There was a spotted hyena at the waterhole, but the campsite was strange, lacking a toilet and looking utterly neglected. The winds were howling, covering us with ash and soot as we stopped to cook up a late breakfast. It was an utterly unappealing spot to spend the night, especially as it seemed likely that the fires were going to return. We made the decision to cut our losses and head out of the park to Jack's Pan, a place we had failed to reach back in 2016 thanks to some poor navigating by me.</p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIt3uvBqyFVyf4dRbVITRSJO7ftvQoef0ZH9pZV8-gN8QG-2uwUrQocgvGN7KrI_HLdy5SN1J27JJR77vlKZkhzs8uXgNHzkK_JBRYFmkVeV-BgdtvKICHV7ITEP0KI4nfFn373E-Maifwce3wLyX9kkMR5pt612lwRJr0p77zHnf8Mj7mf2sWDe9J/s1000/DSC_5518.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="667" data-original-width="1000" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIt3uvBqyFVyf4dRbVITRSJO7ftvQoef0ZH9pZV8-gN8QG-2uwUrQocgvGN7KrI_HLdy5SN1J27JJR77vlKZkhzs8uXgNHzkK_JBRYFmkVeV-BgdtvKICHV7ITEP0KI4nfFn373E-Maifwce3wLyX9kkMR5pt612lwRJr0p77zHnf8Mj7mf2sWDe9J/w400-h266/DSC_5518.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Steenbok</td></tr></tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><p style="text-align: justify;">We drove back to the park gate, finding it utterly deserted this time, adding to our conviction that morale and professionalism in the park staff was at a low ebb. We ground our way along the park boundary along a mildly better sand track, then turned onto a cut line headed towards Jack's Pan. Terri made good time (in two-wheel-drive) until we were within sight of the turnoff to Jack's Pan, when we suddenly encountered a fast-moving wall of flame that had Terri turning around in a hurry. We gave up on Jack's Pan and drove back along the track, then another 100 km of tough sand driving to reach pavement near Hukuntsi. There we refilled our tires using our portable compressor and I took over at the wheel from a rather tired Terri, who had been driving for nearly 10 hours. We were relieved to get to Kang and comfortable roadside campsite. The Botswanan side of the Kgalagadi had been disappointing and exhausting! </p><p style="text-align: justify;">The following day Terri was content to play passenger for most of the day as I drove us 580 km north along perfect tarmac to Maun, and then another 30 alarming kilometres in the dark to reach Drifters, an oasis and a balm to the soul after the scorched hellscape of the previous few days. We spent the first evening catching up with Heike and Oskar, a German couple we had met in Cape Town, and then spent yesterday and today editing photos and videos, doing workouts, eating well and watching the prodigious birdlife flitting amongst the trees. We had one of the best sunsets either of us had ever seen last night, and we are hoping for a repeat performance tonight.</p><p style="text-align: justify;">After covering 2700 kilometres in eight days, we are planning to adopt a much more leisurely pace over the coming month or so, starting with a visit to the emptiness of the Makgadigadi Pans over the next few days (wildfires permitting). Travelling is great, but it's usually the time spent not driving that is the most memorable!<br /><br /><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirsAdJros32IEnvQt7knNxU_RDVxEmUIZweIXM_do6ZioxX8_UEIUpz6JgieekqAgmLRWt6dSmTa3kGD3Kt54mAiI_UCz8Wlu2iN9E5xkuwrA_tEq_b63QrM_JxDYuLCCtKSTr_LmX9Mt-ax0uFZsQ1gHsdnlUF9faYmNEU7zOg_LtUo2nBQQ7C_nV/s4000/20221010_184329.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3000" data-original-width="4000" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirsAdJros32IEnvQt7knNxU_RDVxEmUIZweIXM_do6ZioxX8_UEIUpz6JgieekqAgmLRWt6dSmTa3kGD3Kt54mAiI_UCz8Wlu2iN9E5xkuwrA_tEq_b63QrM_JxDYuLCCtKSTr_LmX9Mt-ax0uFZsQ1gHsdnlUF9faYmNEU7zOg_LtUo2nBQQ7C_nV/w640-h480/20221010_184329.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-635211973012255844.post-81641454358150434532022-09-29T02:49:00.001-07:002022-09-29T02:57:44.181-07:00Almost Ready to Hit the Road!<div class="separator"><br /></div><div class="separator"><span style="text-align: justify;">Kuilsrivier, Cape Town, September 28</span></div><p></p><div style="text-align: justify;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFhqN1YSJ8XKh7_Ln2g1EKZBc9CMyt-QN3xf5QENkEVwTYD6ivVRXdNTlYCXYC9vvnDfycu2a06EbJuQ32p2jkP6rMpI-zsTMUCYEMv_2eHVf7j3xkenKrObdytSr9_pBWAO1Wfx6Bf1Qz_0RIvZCCW2BX0cuEYqmC2xDjpPX74SjvZSSYpGT8hU1h/s1000/DSC_4732.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="667" data-original-width="1000" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFhqN1YSJ8XKh7_Ln2g1EKZBc9CMyt-QN3xf5QENkEVwTYD6ivVRXdNTlYCXYC9vvnDfycu2a06EbJuQ32p2jkP6rMpI-zsTMUCYEMv_2eHVf7j3xkenKrObdytSr9_pBWAO1Wfx6Bf1Qz_0RIvZCCW2BX0cuEYqmC2xDjpPX74SjvZSSYpGT8hU1h/w640-h426/DSC_4732.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A Cape dwarf chameleon found living in a tree at African Overlanders<br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table></div><div style="text-align: justify;">It's 8:30 pm and we're installed in our new home for the next four nights, a small guesthouse in the Cape Town suburbs. We are much closer to departing on our around-Africa adventure than we were two weeks ago; when we check out of this guesthouse on Sunday, we should be ready to start driving north towards Botswana.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYU0bXEFCA4tsXplhmHRNZwVNiHJYTOd-MuI0J4-CP_K8lIRMdAjm0nUUzSGU6RipvSDppVk6U0pUNADsdbkc7CSWmRX56SwP-rBo5M4l0amPURyMAkBOnuaaUVI4jiCVFWrlmwpPFfbulTA3XEBB-xwQz2mSDTtXIFYxIpH_JPDzr1FMml4g5UmL5/s1000/DSC_4740.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="667" data-original-width="1000" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYU0bXEFCA4tsXplhmHRNZwVNiHJYTOd-MuI0J4-CP_K8lIRMdAjm0nUUzSGU6RipvSDppVk6U0pUNADsdbkc7CSWmRX56SwP-rBo5M4l0amPURyMAkBOnuaaUVI4jiCVFWrlmwpPFfbulTA3XEBB-xwQz2mSDTtXIFYxIpH_JPDzr1FMml4g5UmL5/w400-h266/DSC_4740.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My former physics student Michelle and her fiance Carl<br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table></div><p></p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1467Bk5xxd7q4e9SDrcJQfUttwPyw2LwVwB2MtxRVCc3p0smjQBeZFGs5UzgfKS3PBf4wNLgS1qm1Tr0MYlSLr5UEwsqP4PXa8izj6LupozG7QLSlC5NE9ZFLVMdFh3UdUqCH4G030hafeAES-Leg54C3AL0PTCF9vNviPQlj78N7MXqYEGAKBTbV/s1000/DSC_4774.jpg" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="667" data-original-width="1000" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1467Bk5xxd7q4e9SDrcJQfUttwPyw2LwVwB2MtxRVCc3p0smjQBeZFGs5UzgfKS3PBf4wNLgS1qm1Tr0MYlSLr5UEwsqP4PXa8izj6LupozG7QLSlC5NE9ZFLVMdFh3UdUqCH4G030hafeAES-Leg54C3AL0PTCF9vNviPQlj78N7MXqYEGAKBTbV/w400-h266/DSC_4774.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Five new Goodyear Wranglers to carry Stanley north<br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><p style="text-align: justify;">When I last updated the blog, I was in a holding pattern, waiting for Terri to arrive, and waiting for our car to come back from the garage with a new differential. Terri arrived on time on Friday, September 16th, but our bakkie (as a pickup truck is called here in South Africa) did not arrive that Friday as originally promised. We waited, waited some more, did some video editing for <a href="https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCyaqdj8wj8Omge72yxI8UkQ" target="_blank">our new YouTube channel</a>, sorted through photos, got our Carnet de Passage en Douanes from the South African AA, and did a lot of reading, drinking tea and braaing (grilling) delicious steaks, boerewors sausages and sosaties (meat skewers). We also got to reunite with my former student Michelle to whom I taught physics in Switzerland 12 years ago, and who now lives and works in Cape Town; it was great to get away from <a href="https://www.africanoverlanders.com/" target="_blank">African Overlanders</a> and into the genteel surroundings of a Stellenbosch winery!</p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqXUIfUsb3wag4REUrPhPvlTuJCH4vKhd2y1d8PCyVOE3VhvFvoUaWoFn6hN0Khbz34Pa68mlg1QlcdfodbJOHHtFMGX3hf0BA2HqKNiqnq8nt16Ya1ds8ADIeeaWJDv11RrzgjInLoiAm2vvIa3IcVQLaGagxNR2buWapazs_dlrCeIUlRm4Caijf/s1000/DSC_4785.jpg" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="667" data-original-width="1000" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqXUIfUsb3wag4REUrPhPvlTuJCH4vKhd2y1d8PCyVOE3VhvFvoUaWoFn6hN0Khbz34Pa68mlg1QlcdfodbJOHHtFMGX3hf0BA2HqKNiqnq8nt16Ya1ds8ADIeeaWJDv11RrzgjInLoiAm2vvIa3IcVQLaGagxNR2buWapazs_dlrCeIUlRm4Caijf/w400-h266/DSC_4785.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Stanley put back together again at DB Custom Welding<br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><p style="text-align: justify;">We ended up waiting an entire week longer than initially promised, until finally, late on the afternoon of Friday, September 23rd, we got Stanley back. It was a frustrating wait, but at least he came back in working order. We immediately raced out and got new tires installed (most of ours were pretty shredded!) and then, only a day and a half later, we handed over the vehicle again, this time to Dewald, an aluminum welder who repaired, strengthened and re-seated the camper canopy back in the loadbed of the truck. On Monday of this week (only two short days ago!) we finally got the vehicle back, its two halves reunited into one whole unit. An hour and a half of frantic wiring by Danie, the mechanic at African Overlanders, and we finally had a working camper.</p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2hPcoUApG5VECw8sLwEFQ7jVtNm3_HVxGxwORx0yZpCcqKnS4ekebOQHJceBqLGNdthwP7geH_0v4__MiDC-fRqmtqeeLwiMOD003W9xS-r0xhxZ9A0abjz_Gab2ngtAkX1GB2VJCX74ouJoKWJl4QHRSjjZHzQ4JVC-boKxKltlWvkkEk00UMHom/s1000/DSC_4871.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="667" data-original-width="1000" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2hPcoUApG5VECw8sLwEFQ7jVtNm3_HVxGxwORx0yZpCcqKnS4ekebOQHJceBqLGNdthwP7geH_0v4__MiDC-fRqmtqeeLwiMOD003W9xS-r0xhxZ9A0abjz_Gab2ngtAkX1GB2VJCX74ouJoKWJl4QHRSjjZHzQ4JVC-boKxKltlWvkkEk00UMHom/w400-h266/DSC_4871.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Terri on top of the huge map of Africa at Cape Agulhas</td></tr></tbody></table><p style="text-align: justify;">Most of the gear that will get carted around in the camper is locked into a container at African Overlanders, as we were under instructions from our differential guys not to overstrain the new differential for its first few hundred kilometers. We packed a minimal kit into the camper yesterday morning and set off for Cape Agulhas, the southernmost point on the African continent. It was a longish drive (about three hours), good for testing out the diff, the engine and the general operational readiness of our setup. Stanley passed the test with flying colours, and we got to Agulhas happy with Stanley's performance.<br /><br /></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6jNP-qNK0a6dBHohwL8Jwi1YveDEOiPDYAhrP8UVX1gaICZKnplzvG95PNt5ft-OR0XeEY_xegw9FBVPcP3F5R5wCSrMZ-8KYNkIeZ7k-ZQSe8VqJN-o8dAPYjEk8knfGSkUtjzZG_UfsDDlqIjpXDN-8hi1AmRfkUzFKKSZMtWgBvcayH3cmbDlI/s1000/DSC_4825.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1000" data-original-width="667" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6jNP-qNK0a6dBHohwL8Jwi1YveDEOiPDYAhrP8UVX1gaICZKnplzvG95PNt5ft-OR0XeEY_xegw9FBVPcP3F5R5wCSrMZ-8KYNkIeZ7k-ZQSe8VqJN-o8dAPYjEk8knfGSkUtjzZG_UfsDDlqIjpXDN-8hi1AmRfkUzFKKSZMtWgBvcayH3cmbDlI/w266-h400/DSC_4825.jpg" width="266" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Straddling two oceans at Cape Agulhas</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><br /><p style="text-align: justify;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIDMEeVl9zR0FelLDJ9zB4bR0ncrx2GUNvHkpkDCm1fGCLbPBmDmlzmo3AK3yUAGo0rObxhT9P2gbX5AIcms13wtq7Wbot2k42smY3d9aBv_Kw3g9_OlJdckvv3QIgPUFw12bJ4z0-ilqNq7TA0-_wUH5HnO-woN2LgN5i0EcWUrY7zU9R1ygDX46T/s1000/DSC_4840.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="667" data-original-width="1000" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIDMEeVl9zR0FelLDJ9zB4bR0ncrx2GUNvHkpkDCm1fGCLbPBmDmlzmo3AK3yUAGo0rObxhT9P2gbX5AIcms13wtq7Wbot2k42smY3d9aBv_Kw3g9_OlJdckvv3QIgPUFw12bJ4z0-ilqNq7TA0-_wUH5HnO-woN2LgN5i0EcWUrY7zU9R1ygDX46T/w400-h266/DSC_4840.jpg" width="400" /></a>Yesterday was a perfect day in terms of weather, and Agulhas looked stunning, with sunshine glinting on the big breakers crashing onto the shore. Big kelp forests bobbed in the water, streaming through the swell of the waves, while cormorants and gulls sat on the limestone rocks that studded the shoreline. There was a well-conceived monument to Africa's southernmost point, in the shape of a 16-metre-long concrete map of the continent, with a few big landmarks like Kilimanaro, the Zambezi, the Nile and the Atlas Mountains standing out. We wandered across the monument, visualizing our own upcoming journey, then drove a bit further along the coast to a picturesque shipwreck just offshore. It was a really beautiful spot, and put us in a good mood after too many days spent waiting for our vehicle.</p><p style="text-align: justify;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzc4YV_LCIZP9W97q4MSwaNEzo7ESixIpLuDyyzJL5_6rZfuVFrTZQ0nrOhG3Cptcr4vhAbLkmr88A4td7rvfm9EYu-MVXB-FLIrg1U05QoTIffFZMGeyGmVVfTY3OshJyJl-3AygXDwrp65L3YN-zY4N-s9Fp6jCDqIKDO2eYVn6qQNnzLeP0bKLP/s1000/DSC_4884.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="667" data-original-width="1000" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzc4YV_LCIZP9W97q4MSwaNEzo7ESixIpLuDyyzJL5_6rZfuVFrTZQ0nrOhG3Cptcr4vhAbLkmr88A4td7rvfm9EYu-MVXB-FLIrg1U05QoTIffFZMGeyGmVVfTY3OshJyJl-3AygXDwrp65L3YN-zY4N-s9Fp6jCDqIKDO2eYVn6qQNnzLeP0bKLP/w400-h266/DSC_4884.jpg" width="400" /></a></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEcs4k0PGRiDd6_GIMx3T-6vZPmpb5N_UQIP-8QwYyRn4NwoclCIWojE7zmlxX5STTH2jbYPO2PwGF1856SgwaKTSr_4H4qQLBmvW4U1_TL-KYeQ7ZvcjMYfOi_zXRbJ7tQciIn1P4QqiQQQ0YPVxkvpUfEmTX-_2Ldm7UEdvbkixxr0189cDcqwNL/s1000/DSC_4892.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="667" data-original-width="1000" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEcs4k0PGRiDd6_GIMx3T-6vZPmpb5N_UQIP-8QwYyRn4NwoclCIWojE7zmlxX5STTH2jbYPO2PwGF1856SgwaKTSr_4H4qQLBmvW4U1_TL-KYeQ7ZvcjMYfOi_zXRbJ7tQciIn1P4QqiQQQ0YPVxkvpUfEmTX-_2Ldm7UEdvbkixxr0189cDcqwNL/w400-h266/DSC_4892.jpg" width="400" /></a></p><p style="text-align: justify;">That evening we drove partway back to Cape Town and slept in the beautiful tourist town of Hermanus. The town of Agulhas looked wealthy, with plenty of grand houses, but Hermanus looked even more well-to-do, with grand houses lining the clifftops that wouldn't have been out of place in wealthy New Zealand or Australian beach communities. Both towns run on tourism, both domestic and international, and also seem to attract well-off retirees from all over South Africa. They are also visibly less worried about crime than a city like Cape Town, with far fewer razor-wire-topped walls and security gates to be seen.</p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhK4IzzPOPXh4i6FMz9E7YIFoOjzsqnw2oqXk7GF7N8tk9G_rdu_lAmtvj_Qgk-5yzat6ylHjDlcVguKj4-WO2FmJyHijyll1HyxnW3GS6eL_h8UXQeh5gqV5opVX3T_cbTksPAzm-NU23gvwE8zrD5-2kQwK6P0UOOsObJAYwBZX2opTKTC61WvHqb/s1000/DSC_4911.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="667" data-original-width="1000" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhK4IzzPOPXh4i6FMz9E7YIFoOjzsqnw2oqXk7GF7N8tk9G_rdu_lAmtvj_Qgk-5yzat6ylHjDlcVguKj4-WO2FmJyHijyll1HyxnW3GS6eL_h8UXQeh5gqV5opVX3T_cbTksPAzm-NU23gvwE8zrD5-2kQwK6P0UOOsObJAYwBZX2opTKTC61WvHqb/w400-h266/DSC_4911.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sunset over Hermanus</td></tr></tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><p style="text-align: justify;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFKCWcFst4coEMz6oQX6m2Hcyo8eNtVbc0r3BWcAphPUxkjhgzDk90PaQ01Ma8RZ_PGqN6ClG1Qfwu357f2uOlLrkkqX_JCtqF6GloiR-U62ehku18kBxiRfMY56jjNC_TTNt3nnscPgMFuPUqCw_NXSuxulSaZwQztzmZ7kInGOI2M8iXrjja57xM/s1000/DSC_4949.jpg" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="667" data-original-width="1000" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFKCWcFst4coEMz6oQX6m2Hcyo8eNtVbc0r3BWcAphPUxkjhgzDk90PaQ01Ma8RZ_PGqN6ClG1Qfwu357f2uOlLrkkqX_JCtqF6GloiR-U62ehku18kBxiRfMY56jjNC_TTNt3nnscPgMFuPUqCw_NXSuxulSaZwQztzmZ7kInGOI2M8iXrjja57xM/w400-h266/DSC_4949.jpg" width="400" /></a></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><br /></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuLr9yCVtSvN1WexWfx7ft37fFzX-PG1S0nwtDeb56mVE2st-UrUeBVNQZZvbIHplylVee-q1Irhzb91wK0rB13x5rbCFqu88QlnX3G8pspPRuEEmM7aRY4bgMNpVysK42zi0Y9wh9U9_JIRYEnLxJgTzblTLO2BqJwsAKdfUM1QhiRaYPzwkzdr2h/s1000/DSC_5006.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1000" data-original-width="667" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuLr9yCVtSvN1WexWfx7ft37fFzX-PG1S0nwtDeb56mVE2st-UrUeBVNQZZvbIHplylVee-q1Irhzb91wK0rB13x5rbCFqu88QlnX3G8pspPRuEEmM7aRY4bgMNpVysK42zi0Y9wh9U9_JIRYEnLxJgTzblTLO2BqJwsAKdfUM1QhiRaYPzwkzdr2h/w266-h400/DSC_5006.jpg" width="266" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The clifflined shore of Hermanus<br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><p style="text-align: justify;">This morning we walked along the cliff-top walkways that encircle the bay in Hermanus, past the hundreds of species of endemic plantlife that make the Cape Town coast one of the most biodiverse places of earth, particularly in terms of botany. There were a couple of dozen of species in bloom, and I took lots of photos of colourful flowers, as well as cute and cuddly rock hyraxes (dassies) who were soaking up the sun and munching on the vegetation. This was, however, only a sideshow; the main event was taking place out in the waters of the bay, where a couple of dozen Southern right whales were swimming along lazily, surfacing frequently, turning sideways to stick fins out of the water, blowing spouts of water into the air, and generally making great photographic subjects. It was really very pretty, and made for a memorable walk.</p><p style="text-align: justify;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><br /></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjIyPEDhdUP-a65VHgYWr91H68bohavNZAP1iL9Nnsv5Ep0uEl19mcIIYMpv2mZZkQl0_cal1RSDcqLmX0rc9hYWVtNwscKX2IFFOf0pkmX8Eh7vKUfs4U9NF671O9SnrVf2n5jpYSRwa67WVhUP0iagOwTKIXVCHlUegIqx_GpxoNkjf5WpjpCj6J/s1000/DSC_4922.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="667" data-original-width="1000" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjIyPEDhdUP-a65VHgYWr91H68bohavNZAP1iL9Nnsv5Ep0uEl19mcIIYMpv2mZZkQl0_cal1RSDcqLmX0rc9hYWVtNwscKX2IFFOf0pkmX8Eh7vKUfs4U9NF671O9SnrVf2n5jpYSRwa67WVhUP0iagOwTKIXVCHlUegIqx_GpxoNkjf5WpjpCj6J/w400-h266/DSC_4922.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Thar she blows!<br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhW3xezB7zoG9LvDq5dZFxXbB_RpYMx24vP55Mmp8n-nMMRxZzNGG3HXQdof6_t5uYDm0Mx8rYHmqgaEFm_bBYzMP6xmE1MjmeJbtL3Oz7EPqPPnjUR7UmAni0BSCxsBqxVrE8kR0yUaHuMeF3XumdN069Vc_26K5WZkSAR7m9kbpPcIbbsI0KbHMrD/s1000/DSC_5046.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="667" data-original-width="1000" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhW3xezB7zoG9LvDq5dZFxXbB_RpYMx24vP55Mmp8n-nMMRxZzNGG3HXQdof6_t5uYDm0Mx8rYHmqgaEFm_bBYzMP6xmE1MjmeJbtL3Oz7EPqPPnjUR7UmAni0BSCxsBqxVrE8kR0yUaHuMeF3XumdN069Vc_26K5WZkSAR7m9kbpPcIbbsI0KbHMrD/w400-h266/DSC_5046.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A pair of Southern right whales<br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFKCWcFst4coEMz6oQX6m2Hcyo8eNtVbc0r3BWcAphPUxkjhgzDk90PaQ01Ma8RZ_PGqN6ClG1Qfwu357f2uOlLrkkqX_JCtqF6GloiR-U62ehku18kBxiRfMY56jjNC_TTNt3nnscPgMFuPUqCw_NXSuxulSaZwQztzmZ7kInGOI2M8iXrjja57xM/s1000/DSC_4949.jpg" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="667" data-original-width="1000" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFKCWcFst4coEMz6oQX6m2Hcyo8eNtVbc0r3BWcAphPUxkjhgzDk90PaQ01Ma8RZ_PGqN6ClG1Qfwu357f2uOlLrkkqX_JCtqF6GloiR-U62ehku18kBxiRfMY56jjNC_TTNt3nnscPgMFuPUqCw_NXSuxulSaZwQztzmZ7kInGOI2M8iXrjja57xM/w400-h266/DSC_4949.jpg" width="400" /></a><div><br /></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkcDSPXCLMlXde8AsVKPojhWrgZRBaDADqGjWbmkMP1X3-HTDxDX69o0bvodMdLn4NnbEFxzR0UYNRLN5h_CPN_VvOfW9tksBJOoVCuOjTCInt-mwZXGNp7aCM0jkU9Lr1RaKRj6F7_Tc3OURDpfc7s6JDQTydsuGWbJdThg3PYxGyPf_lJVsLuM4I/s1000/DSC_5063.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="667" data-original-width="1000" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkcDSPXCLMlXde8AsVKPojhWrgZRBaDADqGjWbmkMP1X3-HTDxDX69o0bvodMdLn4NnbEFxzR0UYNRLN5h_CPN_VvOfW9tksBJOoVCuOjTCInt-mwZXGNp7aCM0jkU9Lr1RaKRj6F7_Tc3OURDpfc7s6JDQTydsuGWbJdThg3PYxGyPf_lJVsLuM4I/w400-h266/DSC_5063.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div><br /></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9zxDtWp5Cff3bqml7nsnrTKRHn1aISXBzhsKIK-Ef2Skj_BSw3JuLMIj3AM1KWdiTVIksTuqZVZ1DC-Ou5mp3Qt3AP_6FwqHwbhk1qXgExskO3ly5zuwJBhij9Awi-zVpUu7TffLEg4PUvD8TQfa9CNHMCE2Y6AY6NyIdSXJEwBHQaoMTfCCU64Ds/s1000/DSC_4962.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="667" data-original-width="1000" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9zxDtWp5Cff3bqml7nsnrTKRHn1aISXBzhsKIK-Ef2Skj_BSw3JuLMIj3AM1KWdiTVIksTuqZVZ1DC-Ou5mp3Qt3AP_6FwqHwbhk1qXgExskO3ly5zuwJBhij9Awi-zVpUu7TffLEg4PUvD8TQfa9CNHMCE2Y6AY6NyIdSXJEwBHQaoMTfCCU64Ds/w400-h266/DSC_4962.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div><br /></div><div><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAjA8aBRC9pODzzuuak_st79Ybpgpmjsk2KfhuUW59x22g87iodD2KtZlPdVyxx7D9o8tBO4ztvPFQVaosnP2-LJ22WcsTLdiZ-HytmAGWdQZAdsvU9_UUM-CGTSn1MAtlrzdxmrtSUY7qLgx6so9iP9nfRicMwuOebYF5yeW8MdQNG5ni4LoHBm6H/s1000/DSC_5061.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="667" data-original-width="1000" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAjA8aBRC9pODzzuuak_st79Ybpgpmjsk2KfhuUW59x22g87iodD2KtZlPdVyxx7D9o8tBO4ztvPFQVaosnP2-LJ22WcsTLdiZ-HytmAGWdQZAdsvU9_UUM-CGTSn1MAtlrzdxmrtSUY7qLgx6so9iP9nfRicMwuOebYF5yeW8MdQNG5ni4LoHBm6H/w400-h266/DSC_5061.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A somnolent rock hyrax<br /><br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgD2m7nQIEFAcN00Fx1cS_Oc-5fGETH0dTgTDYypw0unIeAIyosSFyj53NNtcesYlS_sZyPMKoxuLSbiP9aJRssHnH58V7fuSiARm3fs2KGyDQ7ClC3TUjBRSatTTHtqjHf8PnWph19N4LFz9v1hnOy-mZ8duw4t8_xT_Ij5V7bnzLelkiq6Dk5SxXS/s1000/DSC_5096.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="667" data-original-width="1000" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgD2m7nQIEFAcN00Fx1cS_Oc-5fGETH0dTgTDYypw0unIeAIyosSFyj53NNtcesYlS_sZyPMKoxuLSbiP9aJRssHnH58V7fuSiARm3fs2KGyDQ7ClC3TUjBRSatTTHtqjHf8PnWph19N4LFz9v1hnOy-mZ8duw4t8_xT_Ij5V7bnzLelkiq6Dk5SxXS/w400-h266/DSC_5096.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Kelp forest</td></tr></tbody></table><p style="text-align: justify;">Then, after a luxurious seafood lunch on the shore, gazing out at the whales, it was time to head back to Cape Town. We still have a few things to do before leaving town: a small crack in Stanley's chassis needs to be welded, we have to get his steering tightened up, we have new stickers for his side hatch to be applied to smarten up his rather road-worn appearance, and we need to get all of our gear safely squared away inside the camper for transport, plus our diff guy wants to have one final once-over on the diff to make sure there are no unexpected problems in the future.</p><p style="text-align: justify;">By Sunday we hope to be northbound, headed towards the Kalahari and wildlife. This two-day interlude in Agulhas and Hermanus has reminded us how much more we prefer beautiful open spaces and wildlife to the humdrum existence in big cities like Cape Town. We look forward to even more wide open vistas and more wonders of the natural world as we make our way north into Botswana and Zambia!</p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVQj2KWbN041mGl47zUNrx0cRnoDQwXxP4NlAjvDOc29paEinl9yBYD9mkrPSpDcaXAgX9N_vrlW6zrOdnYRUzjQEs5HFzlIix2KkdgkU3VS8HvvdiTB5Q6w131QC2lX_bB5p-nF-Jxs2QUovzQoMyyd3Ot6_ek76RlaQSIPnu8rb6JiedpJCgDgRH/s1000/DSC_4815.jpg" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="667" data-original-width="1000" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVQj2KWbN041mGl47zUNrx0cRnoDQwXxP4NlAjvDOc29paEinl9yBYD9mkrPSpDcaXAgX9N_vrlW6zrOdnYRUzjQEs5HFzlIix2KkdgkU3VS8HvvdiTB5Q6w131QC2lX_bB5p-nF-Jxs2QUovzQoMyyd3Ot6_ek76RlaQSIPnu8rb6JiedpJCgDgRH/w640-h426/DSC_4815.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Me and Stanley at Cape Agulhas; it's all northbound from here!</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><p></p></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-635211973012255844.post-73363376572470505992022-09-15T04:55:00.001-07:002022-09-15T04:55:55.486-07:00Slowly Getting Underway<p style="text-align: justify;"> African Overlanders, Stellenbosch Farms</p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyQHnW2crS12UqE0WXKpg0bEPf9xMJ212AvElq77V7MjNI6vSm2kyGz1UFiXfPFt9h_d7QYo_XOsAe1laCxwi1KunhD-TrdBhZUhuC8AGb_O6K6Eo9uyHYuiM2losPTGGmn4FcQomPEvU9nT3Sy7E-4PygFPzg1J1xpev9BpXJ9LpSsKEl5ZXwd6_H/s1000/DSC_4648.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="667" data-original-width="1000" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyQHnW2crS12UqE0WXKpg0bEPf9xMJ212AvElq77V7MjNI6vSm2kyGz1UFiXfPFt9h_d7QYo_XOsAe1laCxwi1KunhD-TrdBhZUhuC8AGb_O6K6Eo9uyHYuiM2losPTGGmn4FcQomPEvU9nT3Sy7E-4PygFPzg1J1xpev9BpXJ9LpSsKEl5ZXwd6_H/w400-h266/DSC_4648.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My little rondavel<br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><p style="text-align: justify;">I have now been here at the venerable overlanding institution of <a href="https://www.africanoverlanders.com/" target="_blank">African Overlanders</a> on the outskirts of Cape Town for a week, staying in a rondavel, the small, round thatch-roofed huts typical of southern Africa while Stanley is repaired and improved. Terri arrives tomorrow morning on a flight from Switzerland and by the middle of next week, we should be moving, although I'm reluctant to commit to that as delays are almost inevitable.</p><p style="text-align: justify;">It has been a busy week. I arrived on Thursday and staggered around in a jet-lagged fog, looking at Stanley (I last laid eyes on him in July of 2018, when we put him into storage here) until I fell into bed. </p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyBuvDIWBYDU_-gM_pklJfHlfBoxcF8j1H8ySjWO8vMVH9Az7bxxvL9gRXS84IBhImcVVUv5N1ezkO68ysqg26bnaPnS0CPSjE8ACIJinrelBOfUR2eqdC4Xfs7mczF6THw91uWTnxLiHIc4CKG4Lcy0GLpWVL1VQCsIn6MqTn0hHFB6ZDFgWCDxut/s1000/DSC_4641.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="667" data-original-width="1000" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyBuvDIWBYDU_-gM_pklJfHlfBoxcF8j1H8ySjWO8vMVH9Az7bxxvL9gRXS84IBhImcVVUv5N1ezkO68ysqg26bnaPnS0CPSjE8ACIJinrelBOfUR2eqdC4Xfs7mczF6THw91uWTnxLiHIc4CKG4Lcy0GLpWVL1VQCsIn6MqTn0hHFB6ZDFgWCDxut/w400-h266/DSC_4641.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">First view of Stanley<br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgk4z6ZEsbfWZA6DBHa4Wnoj1Qp4NVgij3I17AZkkAOTIoH4v15mM_YxHy5JcCN-jDn8AFJdgSNu8hTZMNOw-guuAed_zV-ymoye_rAgFWwl-wPE0umn7NqlTWvJwiXss2ITPej8kZV8T_obd8uFMf6HwTLFQY410kSCSR5BUD_EipxGut7oKqlbZ_C/s1000/DSC_4642.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="667" data-original-width="1000" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgk4z6ZEsbfWZA6DBHa4Wnoj1Qp4NVgij3I17AZkkAOTIoH4v15mM_YxHy5JcCN-jDn8AFJdgSNu8hTZMNOw-guuAed_zV-ymoye_rAgFWwl-wPE0umn7NqlTWvJwiXss2ITPej8kZV8T_obd8uFMf6HwTLFQY410kSCSR5BUD_EipxGut7oKqlbZ_C/w400-h266/DSC_4642.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Our battered hatch-cover stickers</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><p style="text-align: justify;">Friday was spent getting Stanley's engine serviced: all the fluids and filters got changed, new (and expensive!) glow plugs were installed (only 1 of the 4 old ones were in operating condition!), new brake pads and rear shocks were installed, and Danie, the mechanic here, had a good look over the entire undercarriage.</p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4vmByX4uXwv93Fir6ppuAI3xJSrhpwLUQMFbeKA7OJXWsv7lOHnP1OyKQ5JcrgwdhwVemOgV3CpEzkzjtP9kRXAGTJrYP9197d-qovrrZjeuPVLKC-6dewN6B4C73hNCnqN60FGjVGue149SBEESQ-n-CEaA2RTZXsKzak88OWqZX-6-bAg3vI9rJ/s1000/DSC_4653.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1000" data-original-width="667" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4vmByX4uXwv93Fir6ppuAI3xJSrhpwLUQMFbeKA7OJXWsv7lOHnP1OyKQ5JcrgwdhwVemOgV3CpEzkzjtP9kRXAGTJrYP9197d-qovrrZjeuPVLKC-6dewN6B4C73hNCnqN60FGjVGue149SBEESQ-n-CEaA2RTZXsKzak88OWqZX-6-bAg3vI9rJ/w266-h400/DSC_4653.jpg" width="266" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Getting a throrough once-over<br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSABrQke7psee1n_g7GuBQUDPLT_txNRnRoqz9AS7IDelgHLmmIjr_1bkxGnzsAxJIedqqifMScH4_FwgsrljlOyKxRuqthwCnCms3UvTaQTgAjbaHegaZVMy0OmDhaBfhNA9BdQljkg6GJ7vM7M2blw__eGkPyrawpTB1mSWCauTHtoloohoisU4x/s1000/DSC_4657.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1000" data-original-width="667" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSABrQke7psee1n_g7GuBQUDPLT_txNRnRoqz9AS7IDelgHLmmIjr_1bkxGnzsAxJIedqqifMScH4_FwgsrljlOyKxRuqthwCnCms3UvTaQTgAjbaHegaZVMy0OmDhaBfhNA9BdQljkg6GJ7vM7M2blw__eGkPyrawpTB1mSWCauTHtoloohoisU4x/w266-h400/DSC_4657.jpg" width="266" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Danie at work on the shocks</td></tr></tbody></table><p style="text-align: justify;"><br /></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWEj5_am8qySwsz-udEbysKeeLhqST2u-inviaB9FzIbUN20hT6h6lCNdwWQkcjf51_vk8XCynmOwwC6e7KH00ijRHRxiaRhGDdAe9EICFucFOJwi2c1DJDiHROIWv20oO9z9rs9AHmAvvUqva8AbEkJ2i6V1LwodH0kX5bzjHJtIqYZLf2EsvptpB/s1000/DSC_4667.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="667" data-original-width="1000" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWEj5_am8qySwsz-udEbysKeeLhqST2u-inviaB9FzIbUN20hT6h6lCNdwWQkcjf51_vk8XCynmOwwC6e7KH00ijRHRxiaRhGDdAe9EICFucFOJwi2c1DJDiHROIWv20oO9z9rs9AHmAvvUqva8AbEkJ2i6V1LwodH0kX5bzjHJtIqYZLf2EsvptpB/w400-h266/DSC_4667.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The camper half of Stanley hanging forlornly<br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><p style="text-align: justify;">On Saturday we winched the aluminum camping canopy out of the bed of the truck so that it could be repaired and re-seated. It blew sideways and backwards in early 2017 in a huge gust of wind (we had our canopy deployed, and it caught and amplified the force of the wind), and as a result it was no longer seated in the proper position. This put a lot of strain on the 4 bolts that held the camper in place, and they slowly bent and pulled out of position. In turn the camper canopy itself deformed and buckled in places. It really got bad during our 2018 trip around northern Namibia, so we decided that it was time to get it seen to. It was a very strange experience to have the canopy sitting on a trailer in the workshop here, with the pickup truck looking small and very naked, with the rear end sloping upwards since there was no longer the weight of the camper and its contents to compress the burly leaf springs on the rear wheels.</p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNJOqx1UxncqrLtnI22jAjsCC7_f7b3c59WOx9JtY2eb4K5dbfljcfRKFQRiE9LndDQrmRp-ptQAgGqsFxCDAXMc-JZ5qfqVxddHgRQwmCmgcb3huUmPDv39emffgxDC9frgugz9Lm_f3C_5yqQ1Sf9gsHPi3etTmxaXIznmkwn4PptFoPYJ8awhvT/s1000/DSC_4655.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="667" data-original-width="1000" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNJOqx1UxncqrLtnI22jAjsCC7_f7b3c59WOx9JtY2eb4K5dbfljcfRKFQRiE9LndDQrmRp-ptQAgGqsFxCDAXMc-JZ5qfqVxddHgRQwmCmgcb3huUmPDv39emffgxDC9frgugz9Lm_f3C_5yqQ1Sf9gsHPi3etTmxaXIznmkwn4PptFoPYJ8awhvT/w400-h266/DSC_4655.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Some bucked and cracked aluminum and a useless bolt<br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLY2GWH5f3LKDXJJmD4ky92lkbqDTBvB4YM180kpA0iqGyLlL5EW3YXFDVqUo8fU8XuBFlLLiLIDGYxeNPp1YVnoS4_Hr15XXJtzPA3gHhoK2UPQvgkWvmGtTnWHTUItrE2pDVaexQtzBxuZL4KDJzBcXRIYPJi3Q_TcHfVwcvGZFdfLEKZyOwB6ng/s1000/DSC_4666.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="667" data-original-width="1000" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLY2GWH5f3LKDXJJmD4ky92lkbqDTBvB4YM180kpA0iqGyLlL5EW3YXFDVqUo8fU8XuBFlLLiLIDGYxeNPp1YVnoS4_Hr15XXJtzPA3gHhoK2UPQvgkWvmGtTnWHTUItrE2pDVaexQtzBxuZL4KDJzBcXRIYPJi3Q_TcHfVwcvGZFdfLEKZyOwB6ng/w400-h266/DSC_4666.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My first-ever view of the bed of the pickup truck<br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><p style="text-align: justify;">Sunday being a day on which nothing is open in South Africa, we resumed operations on Monday by dropping off the pickup truck at a gearbox and differential specialist. During his inspection under the vehicle, and while test driving Stanley, Danie had noticed that the prop shaft underneath the vehicle seemed loose, and that there was a definite "clunk" at times as the vehicle was put into gear. Then when he looked at the oil that he drained out of the differential, he saw the glint of small bits of metal, meaning that something metallic was grinding itself into nothingness inside. We dropped off the truck and they diagnosed that a new differential was going to be needed, as well as a re-balancing of the prop shaft. It's a relatively expensive procedure, but necessary to keep the vehicle a going concern; the mechanics figured that sometime in the next 5000 km the entire differential would have ceased working, and it's definitely better to have it diagnosed and fixed here rather than, say, in the middle of the Kalahari Desert in Botswana!</p><p style="text-align: justify;">Later on Monday a specialist aluminum welder came to African Overlanders, but decided that he couldn't really do the job properly on site. Instead on Tuesday we rented a big trailer, transferred the camper insert onto it and drove it to the welder's workshop. It was supposed to be done by tomorrow, but I've just had a call saying that it can't be finished until next Tuesday for reasons unknown.</p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwM4nhpGlzqtCriYg_88WwWmaxe4at4SSKEXxNQcl6GrQcsAp35-ShrodjPZ456vRW6L_cOXY_vsvcHc2Vp9qprT5qARCXltuGAKz-SZKlj1jKGsOCncbpTQGQVspDcswKu291rgtGn3xOHnRcCpxCLxWaq4EEObWBhiFHGLGt5t9IL4rbIOXXWnCk/s1000/DSC_4681.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="667" data-original-width="1000" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwM4nhpGlzqtCriYg_88WwWmaxe4at4SSKEXxNQcl6GrQcsAp35-ShrodjPZ456vRW6L_cOXY_vsvcHc2Vp9qprT5qARCXltuGAKz-SZKlj1jKGsOCncbpTQGQVspDcswKu291rgtGn3xOHnRcCpxCLxWaq4EEObWBhiFHGLGt5t9IL4rbIOXXWnCk/w400-h266/DSC_4681.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Trundling off to the welding shop</td></tr></tbody></table><p style="text-align: justify;">Tomorrow (Friday), the pickup truck is supposed to be released from the differential workshop, so at least we will have transport, although we won't be able to put the canopy back on the truck until Tuesday. Then there will be lots of reconnecting wires and making sure everything is in working order. On Monday we will put on an entire set of new tires (including the spare), as the tires we have on there now have been sitting for 4 years and are dry and cracked. </p><p style="text-align: justify;">On the paperwork front, we have gotten ourselves a Carnet de Passage en Douanes (a CPD or carnet), an expensive piece of paper that is essentially a passport for the vehicle, guaranteeing that if we drive it into another country, we will drive it out again and not try to sell it in the country. It involves putting down a really large deposit (in our case nearly US$9000!) that will sit in a bank account here in South Africa and which will be released once we return the carnet, properly stamped for its entries and exits, to the Automobile Association of South Africa. It's a bit nerve-wracking, because essentially it means that we can't have Stanley break down in (say) Kenya so completely that he can't be revived. Stanley needs to be kept running long enough to make it back to South Africa, and that's always a bit of a risky bet. </p><p style="text-align: justify;">Terri transferred the money to the AA yesterday, and today we got word that the carnet has been processed and is about to be sent here by courier. This is the first time that we've needed a carnet; on our two previous iterations of Stanley's Travels, we only ventured as far north as Zambia, and since we have South African license plates on the car, we didn't need a carnet (unlike overlanders with European-registered vehicles, who require a carnet for most border crossings). Apparently Kenya, Ethiopia, Sudan and Egypt are the four countries for which we most need a carnet, and we're hoping to hit all of them on this trip.</p><p style="text-align: justify;">I've been messing around with video editing software lately, trying to get proficient enough that we can start putting out YouTube videos. I'm not sure we're going to become YouTube stars like the travellers that Terri follows, but it will be a new way to share the experience of overlanding, to go with our <a href="https://web.facebook.com/stanleystravels/" target="_blank">Facebook</a>, <a href="https://www.instagram.com/hmstanleystravels/" target="_blank">Instagram</a> and <a href="https://twitter.com/stanleystravels" target="_blank">Twitter</a> presences.</p><p style="text-align: justify;">We're hoping to make it through Botswana and up to Livingstone, Zambia by late October to catch up on the goings-on at <a href="http://olivetreelearningcentre.com/" target="_blank">Olive Tree Learning Centre</a>, the community elementary school that Terri has been funding, running and growing since 2007. Then our schedule is pretty open and flexible; we would like to spend a lot of time in Uganda, as well as poking around Rwanda and Burundi. We're not sure how long we'll spend in Tanzania and Kenya, as almost everything we're interested in (national parks, hiking, camping) is quite expensive, priced for wealthy Europeans and Americans who fly in for a couple of weeks. Then comes the more difficult part of the trip, as we're not sure that Ethiopia and Sudan will have their borders open for overlanders, as both countries are undergoing military and political turmoil. As I said, we will need to have a very flexible schedule, in case we need to turn around and drive back south from Kenya.</p><p style="text-align: justify;">Tuesday was my birthday; I turned 54 and I keep shaking my head in wonder that I have somehow gotten so old without really growing up. I definitely feel my body more than I once did (my knees and elbows in particular), so I figure that's a signal that we need to get these big adventures underway sooner rather than later.</p><p style="text-align: justify;">At any rate, it feels good to be back on the continent of Africa where Terri and I have built up such great memories. We will keep you posted on how things develop from here!</p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgw1DfTsAUYwCDk48a1i2v_P80rr1rVXYXOzI39oP7cAGF1_xmEUW9wxep9NkGNz3jkzX5uJQxIf2yR-pKGgWodvk1o4gw9eJHZ47iODUD9YMvZkZkuHBWgiHNzvND8C6IHzjZUl0c3gj331CSFsWWDHXQG2UquqPiy6rEgfrHFkQdmdgwTtNszGywu/s1000/DSC_4669.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="667" data-original-width="1000" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgw1DfTsAUYwCDk48a1i2v_P80rr1rVXYXOzI39oP7cAGF1_xmEUW9wxep9NkGNz3jkzX5uJQxIf2yR-pKGgWodvk1o4gw9eJHZ47iODUD9YMvZkZkuHBWgiHNzvND8C6IHzjZUl0c3gj331CSFsWWDHXQG2UquqPiy6rEgfrHFkQdmdgwTtNszGywu/w640-h426/DSC_4669.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My morning view of iconic Table Mountain<br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-635211973012255844.post-51757370219870726262022-09-01T07:08:00.001-07:002022-09-01T07:11:49.044-07:00Stanley's Travels About To Resume!<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">Lipah, September 1st</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">It's a lovely afternoon here on the northeast corner of Bali, and I'm sitting at my desk gazing out through some freshly-washed windows (the things I do to procrastinate!) at the Bali Sea. A few fishing boats are out, their colourful sails billowing in the stiff breeze, while the tide is low so the seashore across the road from our house is wide with coral boulders sticking up from the water. It's a distracting place to work at times, since I end up staring out of the windows more than actually typing!</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNgK1FndoxXMBVtHCt1LoC1xN58OFJpwVQjQDDAXn0tCrGg-XJgwRSEEOg4js37VWzMhzkV3YUSTbgcxAIAhpr_YUeRvnzo07Vuu0ZTIR2-ssOqF6kNyAaGLY5imchfm_IgP6tZ_DrKZscGfnRgRB8oAuhcu5AS5dVkuC8xs-GXioz-b4K91vc51Q0/s1000/DSC_4594.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="667" data-original-width="1000" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNgK1FndoxXMBVtHCt1LoC1xN58OFJpwVQjQDDAXn0tCrGg-XJgwRSEEOg4js37VWzMhzkV3YUSTbgcxAIAhpr_YUeRvnzo07Vuu0ZTIR2-ssOqF6kNyAaGLY5imchfm_IgP6tZ_DrKZscGfnRgRB8oAuhcu5AS5dVkuC8xs-GXioz-b4K91vc51Q0/w640-h426/DSC_4594.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">I've been back in Bali for over a month now, relaxing, diving, kayaking, running, reading and generally enjoying being reunited wiht Terri after four months apart; after I left New Zealand in late March, Terri stayed on for another month of family visits before coming directly here. I spent April, May, June and most of July in Leysin, Switzerland, keeping an eye on my beloved mother while my sister Audie and her family, with whom my mom has been living for the past year, were on sabbatical in Africa. It was fun to be back in the mountains where I spent five memorable years from 2010-2015, this time free of the heavy workload that came with teaching at a boarding school. I did a lot of cycling, running, reading and spending time with my mother.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIGMIvOOI_rvlvZXo11ZKzKWHUSc0Y7UrYPaDJGVdsOZc3yY_HQuChuPbFDyXfT1vsJy4djnu813bQVoFyHkq651rErJ9gvkxy7SPRGM_86IpkKTkPl1ad2UcGNl3zFYqbWAzHn7-QtPhBaZ_zz46U7XuaLhtAJiLCI-WI-_0N70AKE1ynzTiIJW_W/s1000/DSC_4599.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="667" data-original-width="1000" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIGMIvOOI_rvlvZXo11ZKzKWHUSc0Y7UrYPaDJGVdsOZc3yY_HQuChuPbFDyXfT1vsJy4djnu813bQVoFyHkq651rErJ9gvkxy7SPRGM_86IpkKTkPl1ad2UcGNl3zFYqbWAzHn7-QtPhBaZ_zz46U7XuaLhtAJiLCI-WI-_0N70AKE1ynzTiIJW_W/w640-h426/DSC_4599.jpg" width="640" /></a></div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">When Audie and her family returned from Africa, I leapt onto an airplane and came here. This is really our home base these days; with my mom having left Canada for good and my father having died back in 2017, I don't really have the familial home bases in Ottawa and Thunder Bay that were always an anchor point for me in my decades of nomadic wanderings. Luckily Terri has had this place since 2010, so we have used it as a home base ever since leaving Leysin back in 2015. We're absent from Bali for more time than we are in residence, but still it's where we leave our stuff and where we return to between adventures. It's a great place to call home, I have to say!</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhh3Vb6VaGp2tMDGAFgQO64_E2iCSgONgbXZ2GaSV2s-1mV2Bkk1eDDFxNuR5J-9ds8ntARNG2bt5PGmYCYsaHtqYRV-lPI-V3-TJWMkb4orjZ7LiTvI75UqBFfScTrawXiAWhZoB-uvHrSzW96h0lsQ0PpALk39Kbya52jim90Z_8OwaeXE46qljiX/s1000/DSC_8180.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="669" data-original-width="1000" height="428" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhh3Vb6VaGp2tMDGAFgQO64_E2iCSgONgbXZ2GaSV2s-1mV2Bkk1eDDFxNuR5J-9ds8ntARNG2bt5PGmYCYsaHtqYRV-lPI-V3-TJWMkb4orjZ7LiTvI75UqBFfScTrawXiAWhZoB-uvHrSzW96h0lsQ0PpALk39Kbya52jim90Z_8OwaeXE46qljiX/w640-h428/DSC_8180.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">Our carefree Bali days are coming to an end very shortly though, as we are finally ready to resume our African adventures. We spent 2016-17 travelling throughout southern Africa in our amazing 4x4 camper Stanley (named after the explorer), and then another 2 months in 2018. We left Stanley in storage near Cape Town in June of 2018 with the idea that we would return after my two-year teaching contract in Tbilisi was over. The microbial world intruded, however, in the form of the covid-19 pandemic which made resuming our African travels impractical for over two years. We made the most of the enforced delay: a few months' overstay in Georgia, a few months in France and Italy and Switzerland in autumn 2020, nine months here in Bali, seven months in New Zealand, and then Switzerland for me, Bali for Terri. However, having essentially spent two years treading water instead of doing what we wanted, we are very keen to make up for lost time!</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">So the plan is to fly to Cape Town, liberate Stanley from his long-term storage, make sure he's in sound mechanical health, get all of our administrative ducks in a row in terms of carnets de passage, vehicle registration and all the other bits of essential paper needed to drive a private vehicle across a few dozen international borders, and then set off northbound. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDeqhV4Fo1UrEQT4x6vMzPIcPZDqDMyQoF6qZoHhE7qNLyaBkSbNvg4loJ4A7b8lWXCgvjTc5ET2R28ttZSadfoDOowS3ie4fBZULnLsPlvinPcfuHQx36BRYhUwimOmOLyCMZ6YMywGpEOZTyyjx2_YxkFVxEgENwrUU-xGk7rXymPN88CaTjEyCM/s1001/East%20Africa%20Route%20Overview.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="619" data-original-width="1001" height="397" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDeqhV4Fo1UrEQT4x6vMzPIcPZDqDMyQoF6qZoHhE7qNLyaBkSbNvg4loJ4A7b8lWXCgvjTc5ET2R28ttZSadfoDOowS3ie4fBZULnLsPlvinPcfuHQx36BRYhUwimOmOLyCMZ6YMywGpEOZTyyjx2_YxkFVxEgENwrUU-xGk7rXymPN88CaTjEyCM/w640-h397/East%20Africa%20Route%20Overview.png" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">Our master plan is to circumnavigate the African continent, north up the east coast, and back south along the west coast. There is nowhere north of Zambia where you can connect the east and west sides of the continent (wars, closed borders and inhospitable environments make all the possible border crossings impractical), so once we get as far north as Sudan, we have to figure out what we're going to do. The ideal solution is to take a passenger ferry from Port Sudan to Jeddah, drive across Saudi Arabia, Jordan and Iraq (yes really! Overlanders are driving through Iraq without incident these days), into Turkey and then across Europe to Spain. If that doesn't work (which is likely since Saudi Arabia bans people from driving across it in right-hand-drive cars such as ours, despite having signed international conventions that say it will allow it), we might have to bite the bullet and drive into Egypt, which sounds like a dreadful place to drive your own vehicle, and then catch a boat to Greece or Italy from there. That part of the plan is a work in progress!</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7KIC8Pndv6ZoehdO6baxDMqWieahKKpkr-fTODa-wYyuMP29_z1xCOQj8TJWustIwNSp0A-F3NIVIyWzw_1Lr_ceuwDtaCSbg9Gm3R3TDg7sCmyJnE_0c-0tfU5uUT0eHufk8akuqrxtrGa_ZOfxdxRx-HeyAxDpzviJStbnamMzYKHvmwv0oxTF1/s1161/Route%20Overview%20Middle%20East-Europe.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="592" data-original-width="1161" height="326" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7KIC8Pndv6ZoehdO6baxDMqWieahKKpkr-fTODa-wYyuMP29_z1xCOQj8TJWustIwNSp0A-F3NIVIyWzw_1Lr_ceuwDtaCSbg9Gm3R3TDg7sCmyJnE_0c-0tfU5uUT0eHufk8akuqrxtrGa_ZOfxdxRx-HeyAxDpzviJStbnamMzYKHvmwv0oxTF1/w640-h326/Route%20Overview%20Middle%20East-Europe.png" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">From Spain, we can catch a ferry to Morocco and start driving south. Sadly, the jihadi unrest and the kidnapping industry in the Sahara and Sahel mean that we will likely be restricted to the coastal route, leaving fascinating countries like Mali, Burkina Faso, Niger and Chad for another, more peaceful time. We might take a couple of airborne sidetrips along the way to Cabo Verde, Sao Tome e Principe, and even Equatorial Guinea. The hardest part of the route will be the Nigeria-Cameroon-Gabon-Congo-DRC-Angola stretch, with a series of countries that make it difficult to obtain visas and drive your own car across the border. Once we reach Namibia, we're home free, with only our favourite country in Africa separating us from our finishing point in Cape Town.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZDCTQ-GsQWlC6_cEhJP03dv2D_SKlYOkpblMJ4SQPJYWuOgWy_Dxl3DQ31GVmM4YwvpoBr5RycVmIXRO5uhYiiRF-x1qvxjY_YkSBAl2UYWSamgQtlNqr4i_eFK1ibpC6B60srad9ib7Gt32my7L9tgZPO3TgZ7GvZ-5pivKdD4IG9rJMw8adQqqX/s1002/West%20Africa%20Overall%20Route.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="611" data-original-width="1002" height="390" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZDCTQ-GsQWlC6_cEhJP03dv2D_SKlYOkpblMJ4SQPJYWuOgWy_Dxl3DQ31GVmM4YwvpoBr5RycVmIXRO5uhYiiRF-x1qvxjY_YkSBAl2UYWSamgQtlNqr4i_eFK1ibpC6B60srad9ib7Gt32my7L9tgZPO3TgZ7GvZ-5pivKdD4IG9rJMw8adQqqX/w640-h390/West%20Africa%20Overall%20Route.png" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">If you look at the three maps and do some arithmetic, you'll see that just driving the most direct route adds up to 33,500 km. We have never stuck to the strait and narrow, so I would estimate that with all the sidetrips we will tack on to see historic sites, national parks and locations of natural beauty, we will likely drive at least 50,000 km, which is a long way!</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">How long will it take? Much depends on how well Stanley (a 2002 Mitsubishi Colt pickup truck) holds up mechanically. As well seasonal considerations (the hot season in the Arabian and Sahara Deserts, the rainy seasons here and there) will play a role too. I imagine that we will make it to Europe by about May or June, 2023, and we might take a few months off at that point to hike (or to hang out in Bali!). Then in the early autumn of 2023 we could cross to Morocco and set off southbound. We might conceivably make it back to Cape Town by February or March of 2024, although that's really pretty speculative. We will take as long as we want!</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">I hope that you, my faithful readers, will follow along with us on the African roads. You can follow us here, or on a variety of social media:</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">www.instagram.com/hmstanleystravels</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">www.facebook.com/stanleystravels</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">www.twitter.com/stanleystravels</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">There will even be a YouTube channel, although we are still in the midst of setting that up; we are slowly joining the 2020s, so stay tuned for details!</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">We are both excited to get back to Stanley after 4 years apart, and to take him to new and exciting destinations!</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div> <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbRXNj5gQ0Ww6qm1t-AaNUuyDeOo0_-t_lY6i3UmD4dChvd99hlVhTdmYk9SFQ6yE6dLpGJTFKJnh54suMUjReLHN_C_gf-rWoYP9ctrZ4jvlx4eSeDBvuE9wE4eku1l-TWdp4ld0wn9V58_UYVEKZwMQVXRJKjTr3BMQ7uYKXnQu4j4h5nwzfMDl1/s1000/DSC_2277.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="669" data-original-width="1000" height="428" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbRXNj5gQ0Ww6qm1t-AaNUuyDeOo0_-t_lY6i3UmD4dChvd99hlVhTdmYk9SFQ6yE6dLpGJTFKJnh54suMUjReLHN_C_gf-rWoYP9ctrZ4jvlx4eSeDBvuE9wE4eku1l-TWdp4ld0wn9V58_UYVEKZwMQVXRJKjTr3BMQ7uYKXnQu4j4h5nwzfMDl1/w640-h428/DSC_2277.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><p></p>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-635211973012255844.post-21581586167465753432022-08-14T06:35:00.004-07:002022-08-16T05:56:19.662-07:00By The Numbers (Updated, August 2022)<!--Google tag (gtag.js)-->
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<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">Lipah, Bali</div><div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><br /></div><div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">I haven't updated this in nearly 6 years, so it's time to bring this up to date.</div><div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><br /></div><div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">Here's a list of the countries I've visited over the course of my life, arranged by the date of my first visit to the country. I don't count my home country, Canada. <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 20.8px;"> </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 20.8px;">Of course, exactly what constitutes a country is a bit slippery.</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 20.8px;"> </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 20.8px;"> </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 20.8px;">My well-travelled friend</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 20.8px;"> </span><a href="http://natalyamarquand.blogspot.com/" style="color: purple; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 20.8px;">Natalya Marquand</a><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 20.8px;"> </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 20.8px;">holds (or rather used to hold) that the only objective list is the 193 permanent members of the UN.</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 20.8px;"> </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 20.8px;"> </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 20.8px;">Others maintain that these countries, plus the non-UN-member Vatican City, make up the 194 canonical countries of the world.</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 20.8px;"> </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 20.8px;"> </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 20.8px;">I think the reality is a bit slippier.</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 20.8px;"> </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 20.8px;"> </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 20.8px;">When I visited</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 20.8px;"> </span><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Nagorno-Karabakh_Republic" style="color: purple; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 20.8px;">Nagorno-Karabakh</a><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 20.8px;"> </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 20.8px;">and</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 20.8px;"> </span><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Abkhazia" style="color: purple; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 20.8px;">Abkhazia</a><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 20.8px;">, despite the fact that these countries aren’t universally recognized, I had to get a visa to visit them and cross at a border post manned by people in uniform who stamped my passport.</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 20.8px;"> </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 20.8px;"> </span><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Somaliland" style="color: purple; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 20.8px;">Somaliland</a><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 20.8px;"> </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 20.8px;">not only has its own consulates and border guards, it even has its own currency.</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 20.8px;"> </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 20.8px;"> </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 20.8px;">And, to take an extreme example, anyone who claims that</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 20.8px;"> </span><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Taiwan" style="color: purple; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 20.8px;">Taiwan</a><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 20.8px;"> </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 20.8px;">isn’t effectively an independent country isn’t really recognizing what’s been de facto the case since 1949. (People's Republic of China, I can't hear what you're saying!)</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">So my list of independent countries is a bit bigger than 194. It’s about 204 countries; the number may fluctuate a bit, and it doesn’t include three countries (Western Sahara, Palestine and Tibet) with pretty legitimate cases but without their own border guards. <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Countries_of_the_world" style="color: purple;">One of the many lists of countries on Wikipedia</a> lists 206 entries that either are recognized by at least one other state as being independent, or effectively control a permanently populated territory, but they include Western Sahara and Palestine which are at the moment illusory pipe dreams, to the distress of the people who inhabit them. If I'm not counting Canada, that would make 203 possible destinations on my list (or else 193 on the UN+Vatican list).</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Anyway, without further preamble, here’s my list of the countries I have visited, arranged according to the date I first visited them. The non-UN/Vatican members of the list are coloured <span style="color: red;">red</span>; there are eight of them, so if you’re counting by the UN+Vatican list, it’s 125 (out of 193). I would make it 133 out of 203. Whichever way you count it, I’m now well over half-way to my goal of visiting them all, and my to-visit list is now down into double digits. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
1969</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
1. US</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
1977</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
2.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>France</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
3.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Switzerland</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
4.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Liechtenstein</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
5.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Germany</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
6.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Netherlands</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
1981</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
7.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Tanzania</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
1982</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
8.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Norway</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
9.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Italy</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
1988</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
10.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>UK</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
11. Vatican</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
12.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Greece</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
13.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Hungary</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
14.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Austria</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
15.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Czech Republic (Prague, then part of the now-defunct Czechoslovakia)</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
1990</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
16.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Belgium</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
17.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Monaco</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
18.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Poland</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
1991</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
19.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Australia</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
20.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>New Zealand</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
21.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Fiji</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
22.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="color: red;">Cook Islands</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
1994</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
23.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Egypt</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
24.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Turkey</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
1995</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
25.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Spain</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
26.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Kenya</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
27.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Uganda</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
28.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Democratic Republic of Congo</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
29.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Japan</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
30.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Singapore</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
31.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Indonesia</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
1996</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
32.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Philippines</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
33.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Malaysia</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
34.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Thailand</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
35.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Cambodia</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
36.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Nepal</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
1997</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
37.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>India</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
38.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Sri Lanka</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
39.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Pakistan</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
40.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Luxembourg</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
41.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>San Marino</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
42.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Andorra</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
1998</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
43.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>China</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
44.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Portugal</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
45.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Morocco</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
46.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Tunisia</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
47.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Jordan</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
1999</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
48.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Israel</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
49.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Syria</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
50.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Lebanon</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
51.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Chile</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
52.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Argentina</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
53.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Peru</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
2000</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
54.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Bolivia</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
55.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>South Korea</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
2001</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
56.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Mexico</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
57.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Brunei</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
58.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Laos</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
59.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="color: red;">Taiwan</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
2004</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
60.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Kazakhstan</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
61.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Kyrgyzstan</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
62.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Tajikistan</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
63.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Uzbekistan</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
64.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Turkmenistan</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
65.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Iran</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
66.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Bahrain</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
2006</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
67.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Vietnam</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
68.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Burma</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
2007</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
69.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Mongolia</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
70.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Palau</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
71.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Bangladesh</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
2008</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
72. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Bhutan</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
73.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Cyprus</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
74.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="color: red;">Northern Cyprus</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
2009</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
75.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Kuwait</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
76.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Azerbaijan</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
77.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Georgia</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
78.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Armenia</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
79.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="color: red;">Nagorno-Karabakh</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
80.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Iraq</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
81.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Bulgaria</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
82.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Serbia</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
83.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="color: red;">Kosovo</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
84.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Macedonia</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
85.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Albania</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
86.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Montenegro</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
87.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Bosnia-Hercegovina</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
88.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Croatia</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
89.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Libya</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
90.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Malta</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
2010</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
91.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Ethiopia</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
92. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="color: red;">Somaliland</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
93.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Djibouti</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
2011</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
94.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Denmark</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
95.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="color: red;">Abkhazia</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
96.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Russia</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
97.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Ukraine</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
98.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="color: red;">Trans-Dniestria</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
99.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Moldova</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
100. Romania</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
101.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Slovakia</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
102.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Belarus</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
103.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Lithuania</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
104.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Latvia</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
105.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Estonia</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
106.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>United Arab Emirates</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
107.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Oman</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
108.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Qatar</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
2012</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
109.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Slovenia</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
110.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Togo</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
111.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Benin</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
2013<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "times new roman";">
<div style="margin: 0px;">
112.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Maldives</div>
<div style="margin: 0px;">
113, Iceland</div>
<div style="margin: 0px;">
114. Ireland</div>
<div style="margin: 0px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin: 0px;">
2014</div>
<div style="margin: 0px;">
115. East Timor</div>
<div style="margin: 0px;">
116. Solomon Islands</div>
<div style="margin: 0px;">
117. Papua New Guinea</div>
<div style="margin: 0px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin: 0px;">
2015</div>
<div style="margin: 0px;">
118. Finland</div>
<div style="margin: 0px;">
119. Sweden<br />
<br />
2016<br />
120. Paraguay<br />
121. Brazil<br />
122. Uruguay<br />
123. Zambia<br />
124. Botswana<br />
125. South Africa<br />
126. Mozambique<br />
127. Zimbabwe<br />
128. Malawi<br />
129. Madagascar</div><div style="margin: 0px;">130. Swaziland</div><div style="margin: 0px;"><br /></div><div style="margin: 0px;">2017</div><div style="margin: 0px;">131. Lesotho</div><div style="margin: 0px;">132. Namibia </div><div style="margin: 0px;"><br /></div><div style="margin: 0px;">2019</div><div style="margin: 0px;">133. Panama<br />
<br />
<br />
Part of the reason that this list has not been updated since December 2016 on my blog is that the past 6 years have seen a real lull in new countries visited. Partly this is because of me spending 2 years living and working in Georgia, partly it's been that I've gone to revisit old favourites (like Kyrgyzstan and Armenia and Indonesia), and partly it's that covid-19 has put a massive dent into my travelling plans.</div><div style="margin: 0px;"><br /></div><div style="margin: 0px;">However, that is about to change. In three weeks' time I am getting on a flight to Cape Town to take Stanley, our beloved 4x4 camper, out of long-term storage so that we can take him for a drive around the entire continent of Africa. (At least that's the plan!) So over the next 12 months I hope to add Burundi, Rwanda, Sudan, Saudi Arabia and (perhaps) South Sudan and Eritrea to the list. In 2023 I hope to add Mauretania, Senegal, Gambia, Guinea-Bissau, Guinea, Sierra Leone, Liberia, Cote d'Ivoire, Ghana, Nigeria, Cameroon, Gabon, Congo and Angola to the list, along with (perhaps) Algeria, Cape Verde, Sao Tome and Equatorial Guinea. </div><div style="margin: 0px;"><br /></div><div style="margin: 0px;">So by the time Stanley's Travels rolls back into South Africa, I might be in the mid-150s in terms of countries, leaving only about 50 or so to go. The majority of them will be in Central America, northern South America and the Caribbean, with a number of African countries left out of this trip because of security, visa or logistical reasons, and a mixed bag of Pacific islands along with Yemen, North Korea and Afghanistan. I still think I stand a reasonable chance of getting to visit all the countries in the world before I'm too old to enjoy the process. Stay tuned!!</div></div></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-635211973012255844.post-75347120231896008492022-08-04T23:08:00.006-07:002022-08-16T05:57:10.236-07:00The Tramping Triple Crown: Kepler, Milford, Routeburn (Retrospective, December 2021)<!--Google tag (gtag.js)-->
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<p> Lipah, Bali</p><p><br /></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a d="" edit="" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBFiYilBD1Ji8gBldie-DYQv0u33WoV1y0Wzax5FusjNl21HLuuAftjqROaLe_jrQf1CuiUTTAPJmVguy3cxfsfhRx2thvsRGlc9dFP1D7GJsUGNdkboaEgZbtMWqhI9rv79WSyjYFQJIorw8qV6t2gHON6hat_gM7hmJzdI4EQqkgw10FFCzmEQyX/s1000/DSC_0758.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" www.google.com=""><img border="0" data-original-height="1000" data-original-width="667" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBFiYilBD1Ji8gBldie-DYQv0u33WoV1y0Wzax5FusjNl21HLuuAftjqROaLe_jrQf1CuiUTTAPJmVguy3cxfsfhRx2thvsRGlc9dFP1D7GJsUGNdkboaEgZbtMWqhI9rv79WSyjYFQJIorw8qV6t2gHON6hat_gM7hmJzdI4EQqkgw10FFCzmEQyX/w266-h400/DSC_0758.jpg" width="266" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Cormorant at Whites Bay<br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><p style="text-align: justify;">It's been seven months since Terri and I made it to the South Island and began what was for me the most beautiful and most consistently awe-inspiring part of our entire seven months in New Zealand: the Kepler, Milford and Routeburn Tracks, the three Great Walks which are located close to the small town of Te Anau, in the deep south of the South Island. Thirty years previously, my friend Hans and I were backpacking around New Zealand and found ourselves in nearby Queenstown, where we seriously considered hiking the Routeburn; we changed our mind when we met other trekkers who had just come off those tracks and reported unseasonable blizzards and deep snowdrifts. Since then, these hikes have been on my mental radar. Terri, as a New Zealander keen on trekking, had been aware of these treks for her entire adult life, but was put off walking along them by the difficulty of getting reservations for them. The ten Great Walks of New Zealand have become insanely popular among tourists from all over the world, and these three have the greatest demand. The Milford Track, in particular, has a reputation for selling out within minutes of reservations being opened, months before the trekking season even begins. Covid-19, by bringing international arrivals into New Zealand to a crashing halt, provided us with an unmissable opportunity to be able to get reservations for these tracks, as we were competing for spaces with a much smaller pool of applicants than usual. In late November, while we were in the south of the North Island, we went online and were able to book the Milford Track, followed in short order by the Kepler and the Routeburn. All three are pretty expensive (particularly the Milford), but we figured that it was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity not to be missed. Reservations in hand, we structured our time in the South Island around these trips and started to get excited.</p><p style="text-align: justify;"><br /></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgte1N9hLv82kRdPBxbZg15iYeOloIZMdJR3IFG7ikREgpAS7TjHc9ynuEYpVi0vVqSJ9ZZm6wD2ktDwsldQfMl2GyD1IGzaZ4ItapVTZDwjfudt8Z5B8-rvSgAJy1Ag3tOAavD0XbDd7dDNsM7TSmT4SC9lx-3J5PCrZazraXFOKsjZYBTixYOVir_/s1000/DSC_0762.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1000" data-original-width="667" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgte1N9hLv82kRdPBxbZg15iYeOloIZMdJR3IFG7ikREgpAS7TjHc9ynuEYpVi0vVqSJ9ZZm6wD2ktDwsldQfMl2GyD1IGzaZ4ItapVTZDwjfudt8Z5B8-rvSgAJy1Ag3tOAavD0XbDd7dDNsM7TSmT4SC9lx-3J5PCrZazraXFOKsjZYBTixYOVir_/w266-h400/DSC_0762.jpg" width="266" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Whites Bay</td></tr></tbody></table><p style="text-align: justify;"></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieBSGtn6dekeFKTfu_EFr2crcfxdQywBImE2kmFRkCXg43J5a1ZDjNZa70oBxwW_fWIgbRhaddK8CNH-ad4SuPqk91iGOTZSvuAzjgv_kGFFBxTLf2PKxE73jCyv0bDSXIJ2FQRo66to7L9C77XxqiwNSzN1cBwgkzT0yI-QOEZyoWozeIDafh5zpz/s1000/DSC_0752.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="667" data-original-width="1000" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieBSGtn6dekeFKTfu_EFr2crcfxdQywBImE2kmFRkCXg43J5a1ZDjNZa70oBxwW_fWIgbRhaddK8CNH-ad4SuPqk91iGOTZSvuAzjgv_kGFFBxTLf2PKxE73jCyv0bDSXIJ2FQRo66to7L9C77XxqiwNSzN1cBwgkzT0yI-QOEZyoWozeIDafh5zpz/w400-h266/DSC_0752.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Whites Bay<br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><p style="text-align: justify;">We took a middle-of-the-night ferry to the South Island on the night of November 29-30 and headed straight to a Department of Conservation (DOC) campsite at nearby Whites Bay where we caught up on missed sleep, did a short hike and collected an abundance of mussels from the nearby rocks for a seafood feast.</p><p style="text-align: justify;">We spent four days driving south towards Te Anau, via Kaikoura and its coastal loveliness (sadly we didn't spot any of the incredibly rare Hutton's shearwaters that feed just offshore), Wooded Gully (a pretty DOC campsite not far from Christchurch), lovely Lake Tekapo, Twizel (where we camped at pretty Lake Wardell), Queenstown (where we stayed with my friend Natalya's parents, international teachers and world travellers Brian and Marion), Glenorchy and finally Te Anau. It was a whistle-stop tour, although we were confident that we would return to spend more time in some of these places after our Te Anau treks.</p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6MzSusHxhlUMly6jOJLh5_CchfVFUhzZyy0QrTl1I8-RMXduc-i0M63tyRwIHx23JEDBxz5qIeb0trgCApM_U6HuSq0DS_0mmzPY9bPKbYy8tugj9thb_5pKlX7J_ZJEBjGmEBG88XNTtdgxw18SRm6DRRpK-TaxaVa7tcjae7Vc2FyAMR-4Q1p4l/s1000/DSC_0785.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="667" data-original-width="1000" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6MzSusHxhlUMly6jOJLh5_CchfVFUhzZyy0QrTl1I8-RMXduc-i0M63tyRwIHx23JEDBxz5qIeb0trgCApM_U6HuSq0DS_0mmzPY9bPKbYy8tugj9thb_5pKlX7J_ZJEBjGmEBG88XNTtdgxw18SRm6DRRpK-TaxaVa7tcjae7Vc2FyAMR-4Q1p4l/w400-h266/DSC_0785.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Kaikoura<br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYvmLIINviWre-bvW2UbZ5CcYPVhS6IBeBGohzYb-_kkiPeClFPP8ylkY-jpzmJRfSa_J2hTjT7Oq0nCohDHvSzdN0UpGF6zmQzRG2Nf0PpKVAuAcDLYxez9OeJn7OjpiI51NGMQgNoAlHkR_gmcKX0yn9fYGmKn66wFvXUnKmNMuV89Lyte6tMcM8/s1000/DSC_0801.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1000" data-original-width="667" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYvmLIINviWre-bvW2UbZ5CcYPVhS6IBeBGohzYb-_kkiPeClFPP8ylkY-jpzmJRfSa_J2hTjT7Oq0nCohDHvSzdN0UpGF6zmQzRG2Nf0PpKVAuAcDLYxez9OeJn7OjpiI51NGMQgNoAlHkR_gmcKX0yn9fYGmKn66wFvXUnKmNMuV89Lyte6tMcM8/w266-h400/DSC_0801.jpg" width="266" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Terri in a field of lupins, Lake Tekapo<br /><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLWGQXYPnDwS0j0gD-rZ7x6NvekgXde4rSuYRtIauHwA5oqDghJ7-VzLLfMxRfrmQI7KR6OLOLvo4PTzgjocR-KunfJl09YY9NOTr0I__eKquAz8E8SepmD6QHfPHswJ6f9S6-J6ViEjBabph4W0TrIeIjA-HEoFYS3adBPLDfzmc_i5BvH8CqixlL/s1000/DSC_0816.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="667" data-original-width="1000" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLWGQXYPnDwS0j0gD-rZ7x6NvekgXde4rSuYRtIauHwA5oqDghJ7-VzLLfMxRfrmQI7KR6OLOLvo4PTzgjocR-KunfJl09YY9NOTr0I__eKquAz8E8SepmD6QHfPHswJ6f9S6-J6ViEjBabph4W0TrIeIjA-HEoFYS3adBPLDfzmc_i5BvH8CqixlL/w400-h266/DSC_0816.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">New Zealand scaup family, Lake Wardell<br /><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgA_qFhpXWUWZ-JXar_mUuf5qSV65CUjYGsWwWnb4CDouw418q_yrDbvgiX0fy1aX6L1ZyzAgXOQdUkaeGrdq32k9T_V1lIYYpKZbYu1GVGG0AvZIe80v0WVplHYe04kXu-1PifUAFwy4swMCe246nNtRhzOcfOaabC86zVafE-gKIrULYwP3YtYOoC/s1000/DSC_0830.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="667" data-original-width="1000" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgA_qFhpXWUWZ-JXar_mUuf5qSV65CUjYGsWwWnb4CDouw418q_yrDbvgiX0fy1aX6L1ZyzAgXOQdUkaeGrdq32k9T_V1lIYYpKZbYu1GVGG0AvZIe80v0WVplHYe04kXu-1PifUAFwy4swMCe246nNtRhzOcfOaabC86zVafE-gKIrULYwP3YtYOoC/w400-h266/DSC_0830.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">New Zealand scaup, Lake Wardell<br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table></td></tr></tbody></table></td></tr></tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiN__iHPd6JHxAVQ36OswlW4gUkxf-z2tziByMq2gaOCEa3qQ9ENPNIeIqy8bHc4kVMKFeMe7zN9W33Oah3JlIt772XmreY8RNWpujMFW72vXUvgRrOiEHKsNxaDl8IdIdt_TYc1VrCkMRFghJb6s8CR69dTFcg9xNg5NahGBjm2M-T-QEpEXfeyXoI/s1000/DSC_0923.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1000" data-original-width="667" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiN__iHPd6JHxAVQ36OswlW4gUkxf-z2tziByMq2gaOCEa3qQ9ENPNIeIqy8bHc4kVMKFeMe7zN9W33Oah3JlIt772XmreY8RNWpujMFW72vXUvgRrOiEHKsNxaDl8IdIdt_TYc1VrCkMRFghJb6s8CR69dTFcg9xNg5NahGBjm2M-T-QEpEXfeyXoI/w266-h400/DSC_0923.jpg" width="266" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mossy native bush along the Kepler Track<br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><p style="text-align: justify;">We had a couple of nights in Te Anau before we set off on the Kepler Track; we spent them camped behind the Parklands Motel which would become our home base between treks. On December 5th it rained incessantly all afternoon. We had to go out to the DOC office to sign in for our trek, to the supermarket to stock up on trekking food and then to a fish and chips joint for dinner. By the time we got back to the van, Terri was almost hypothermic; the temperature was down around 6 degrees and very un-summerlike. Luckily the fish and chips and wrapping herself in her sleeping bag got her functional again by the time bedtime rolled around.</p><p style="text-align: justify;">December 6th found us sleeping in, feeling a bit groggy and slow to get moving. By 10 o'clock we were ready, and we parked our van at the motel, shouldered our packs and started walking. The nice thing about the Kepler Track (unlike the Routeburn and the Milford) is that it's accessible on foot right out of the town of Te Anau. We walked along the shore of Lake Te Anau for an hour to the official entrance to the track at the exit gates controlling the level of the lake, and then another hour further along the lakeshore to Brod Bay. The walk was through a lush, moss-clad beech forest, full of birdsong (although bereft of any visible birds). </p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlTs47Vsgdt7DeOhaqkBu9-mWm4BWRgif3uqZlIac49Dkl3ZdoIwGuqR_I9InGGMAW_tW6g4z3a0EU7kG0IK7KU3gGn7Ri_6JNfiRl7P6GDeGw6C1Frdfs4tJRl6cs_fo9bb1UX0KEj_3N3k4ECRTIXTsRkcOAP2tMeauxVjP8hHU-9N_G6ZrHK7kG/s1000/DSC_0927.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1000" data-original-width="667" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlTs47Vsgdt7DeOhaqkBu9-mWm4BWRgif3uqZlIac49Dkl3ZdoIwGuqR_I9InGGMAW_tW6g4z3a0EU7kG0IK7KU3gGn7Ri_6JNfiRl7P6GDeGw6C1Frdfs4tJRl6cs_fo9bb1UX0KEj_3N3k4ECRTIXTsRkcOAP2tMeauxVjP8hHU-9N_G6ZrHK7kG/w266-h400/DSC_0927.jpg" width="266" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Limestone cliffs on the climb up to Luxmore Hut<br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><p style="text-align: justify;">From Brod Bay the track began to ascend at a gentle, steady angle. Being a Great Walk, the track was luxuriously broad, smooth and well-maintained. As we gained elevation from the lake (210 metres above sea level), we passed first through more mossy beech forest, then past a set of limestone cliffs and then out onto tussocky open moorland. The sky was overcast, lending an even more Scottish feel to the landscape, but luckily it didn't rain. The track wove gently up the slope, and we arrived at Luxmore Hut (1070 m) by 2:45 pm, meaning we had been walking for about 4:45. It seemed like a much easier first day than we had anticipated, but we were still glad to doff our backpacks, claim a bed and settle into the comfortable confines of the hut.</p><p style="text-align: justify;">We broke out our trusty MSR camping stove and lightweight aluminum frying pan and produced some grilled cheese sandwiches for a late lunch. There are some caves a few minutes' walk from the hut, and we set off for a post-prandial constitutional to see them. The caves were small and steeply sloping, but attractive, and we pottered around inside contentedly for a few minutes. Sadly we didn't spot either of New Zealand's two surviving native mammal species (the short-tailed and long-tailed bats), although there had been reports of hikers seeing them near the caves. We ambled back downhill to the hut, did some stretching (we had barely trekked with heavy packs on for over a year) and watched the afternoon light colouring the Murchison Mountains, across an arm of Lake Te Anau. The Murchisons are the last stronghold of the takahe, a highly endangered native bird thought to be extinct until it was rediscovered in the remote bush of these remote mountains in the 1940s by Geoffrey Orbell, a doctor and keen outdoorsman obsessed with the idea that the takahe had survived in the middle of nowhere. We had seen a couple of the 200 or so surviving takahe in a secure enclosure at the Te Anau Wildlife Sanctuary a few days before, but we were keen to see them in the wild. (Sadly, this wouldn't happen; they're very reclusive, secretive birds, rarely seen in the wild.)</p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXyK5_Mih4rZWD4bjIC4XaqJjyjcbXuH_8CZvbRJUeTHwCmswLpCmKZQyvAywZs8GHXEeKsW-VU2j0FKQwnbrRMRfc7jCt-lr3vs3glrddlxO36Gk_53G9_5Yw5iJKZFYbsD0Cye-UB0XWeSR4UbbBNaGdTVqpEhafWcMdLf7nnC7_-CLn850CAsd3/s1000/DSC_0907.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="667" data-original-width="1000" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXyK5_Mih4rZWD4bjIC4XaqJjyjcbXuH_8CZvbRJUeTHwCmswLpCmKZQyvAywZs8GHXEeKsW-VU2j0FKQwnbrRMRfc7jCt-lr3vs3glrddlxO36Gk_53G9_5Yw5iJKZFYbsD0Cye-UB0XWeSR4UbbBNaGdTVqpEhafWcMdLf7nnC7_-CLn850CAsd3/w400-h266/DSC_0907.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Takahe at the Te Anau Wildlife Sanctuary<br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><p style="text-align: justify;">There was a jolly atmosphere in the hut that evening as a few dozen keen trampers (mostly New Zealanders, with a smattering of other nationalities, mostly resident in the country) whipped up food to replenish the calories burned in a day of walking. We struck up a number of conversations with our fellow trampers, sharing stories of the day and tips about other treks around New Zealand. As is the custom along the Great Walks, the hutkeeper came out to give a talk about the history, botany and birdlife of the area after dinner, as well as checking our hut bookings. This particular warden had done his Master's degree testing kea parrots for intelligence and problem-solving ability, and had a number of amusing stories to relate about the pitfalls of trying to outsmart the world's smartest bird. We were all in bed and asleep relatively early.</p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRKTBCfLqE1MxOX1uaeqzmKLPtQw2pRShQp7hAVUryx-u_AgPwbAl0bkE2CdWlh0OWI3QRQFnD8bJX8xJxYF_6XOksGIRDYOyElPD0pnyFqlKm4K185gPmDgQy8ZreW2HIKekoELTqnuV9Rj09Micagc_wclvK_curfl7yxqv-Npf2ZcHHTH3rgh6I/s1000/DSC_0943.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1000" data-original-width="667" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRKTBCfLqE1MxOX1uaeqzmKLPtQw2pRShQp7hAVUryx-u_AgPwbAl0bkE2CdWlh0OWI3QRQFnD8bJX8xJxYF_6XOksGIRDYOyElPD0pnyFqlKm4K185gPmDgQy8ZreW2HIKekoELTqnuV9Rj09Micagc_wclvK_curfl7yxqv-Npf2ZcHHTH3rgh6I/w266-h400/DSC_0943.jpg" width="266" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Wildflowers near Luxmore Hut<br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi132g_R1HesLqwhe8-pIemiHntSgjxYFE0yE3Pm0gXq_8kmQ9u6U1fPzQOZt13Jdwd_XPFwDM2GZ-PnM2OD8wKA0UGaOpzw5oDwERM6GF-aMTgiahF4jOE3EKNNwkeaRRQuvTyYwj-1AFbJ3Cn8THYjsJFj6NbAkhx0ZE6msFrnHOG7S9a02by2lFr/s1000/DSC_0954.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="667" data-original-width="1000" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi132g_R1HesLqwhe8-pIemiHntSgjxYFE0yE3Pm0gXq_8kmQ9u6U1fPzQOZt13Jdwd_XPFwDM2GZ-PnM2OD8wKA0UGaOpzw5oDwERM6GF-aMTgiahF4jOE3EKNNwkeaRRQuvTyYwj-1AFbJ3Cn8THYjsJFj6NbAkhx0ZE6msFrnHOG7S9a02by2lFr/w400-h266/DSC_0954.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">View across the tussocks to Lake Te Anau<br /><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqn6wMr_bIPerAPSoZLarSx3AevNGQwbZSQ2t1gUFzyvTOliPysujnXT_uu2I9ZPH_bajnri3PsQ5STIP-341r1ndLfp7uEDdrG-NpgK_4RfNgZUctmxIBKgR3wcIfuOeeRc4j_tjll4v2NK7m4si0QWlkFdvEz1cj5Zlu-nKa_LRZoJr_vCk5HeNH/s1000/DSC_0965.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="667" data-original-width="1000" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqn6wMr_bIPerAPSoZLarSx3AevNGQwbZSQ2t1gUFzyvTOliPysujnXT_uu2I9ZPH_bajnri3PsQ5STIP-341r1ndLfp7uEDdrG-NpgK_4RfNgZUctmxIBKgR3wcIfuOeeRc4j_tjll4v2NK7m4si0QWlkFdvEz1cj5Zlu-nKa_LRZoJr_vCk5HeNH/w400-h266/DSC_0965.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Lovely wildflower up on the moorland near Luxmore Hut<br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table></td></tr></tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_G8d2iOTvKdduI-i7_PaZQ2xx-dSZLXgloioqiP6UUgEnyUAK513qs0i4f455GZAVwg11QZglJfLg1uBgu2Nh6sSfdGIxWGjTbNn9glNPJku6oGKPwpNRDgwrPWUNmd_GbtDJGr46SuhQBlcRwUnFRVrJyKc2lKpPRDAp5NacoURlhlEZpGT2QQ-A/s1000/DSC_0967.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="667" data-original-width="1000" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_G8d2iOTvKdduI-i7_PaZQ2xx-dSZLXgloioqiP6UUgEnyUAK513qs0i4f455GZAVwg11QZglJfLg1uBgu2Nh6sSfdGIxWGjTbNn9glNPJku6oGKPwpNRDgwrPWUNmd_GbtDJGr46SuhQBlcRwUnFRVrJyKc2lKpPRDAp5NacoURlhlEZpGT2QQ-A/w400-h266/DSC_0967.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Yours truly near Luxmore Hut</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEje7aTlg-3PemfSRhGn75YT8iJAHcwCsVTbAMP0MPJ6EAaAcJXU2-QXAcPWp7w3LEVR2M7zjpyiW6bcpP1rXiFenfQlvlkIYXtN8B1AstGzMoJe6kMOQMuUGh2wfqQ_WCLIKU7V2GmbnMtmbEysw8uKfQ2RLB9otuxzTI4zxwKtYhgL22peO3c67ptk/s1000/DSC_0976.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="667" data-original-width="1000" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEje7aTlg-3PemfSRhGn75YT8iJAHcwCsVTbAMP0MPJ6EAaAcJXU2-QXAcPWp7w3LEVR2M7zjpyiW6bcpP1rXiFenfQlvlkIYXtN8B1AstGzMoJe6kMOQMuUGh2wfqQ_WCLIKU7V2GmbnMtmbEysw8uKfQ2RLB9otuxzTI4zxwKtYhgL22peO3c67ptk/w400-h266/DSC_0976.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mountain daisy and cool insects<br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJ8Qdcy9gfzVZtjnpINOeumY0JkEhjqnecOmIIv8hqJVRlB7GTtfN1TO9jJtOuAOP8m6VeJwrX2ajSaPqi-yLR3CtugVwWI7V-AiN9ihZWbkLPwa8b2yrt5vMkcXpsLvx5rtgSMQVnrMxYkrAh5TjZxR84OC3NgyeuY0uZ4NNCq56V6YNqIc8hkmfV/s1000/DSC_0984.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="667" data-original-width="1000" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJ8Qdcy9gfzVZtjnpINOeumY0JkEhjqnecOmIIv8hqJVRlB7GTtfN1TO9jJtOuAOP8m6VeJwrX2ajSaPqi-yLR3CtugVwWI7V-AiN9ihZWbkLPwa8b2yrt5vMkcXpsLvx5rtgSMQVnrMxYkrAh5TjZxR84OC3NgyeuY0uZ4NNCq56V6YNqIc8hkmfV/w400-h266/DSC_0984.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption">Early morning views from the Luxmore Hut<br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><div style="text-align: justify;">I awoke with the dawn the next morning and slipped out of the hut to see what sunrise would look like. The previous day's clouds had dissipated and the view from Luxmore Hut was fabulous, with range after range of distant snow-capped peaks rising out of a sea of low-level cloud. It was cold (only a few degrees above freezing), but the clarity and colour more than made up for the chill. As I was returning to the hut, I saw a trail runner appear, trotting up the trail we had followed the day before. The Kepler Track is a classic trail run in New Zealand, and this guy hoped to complete the 60-km route in about 8 hours, rather than the 3 days we hikers were planning on.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijWAqAtOm1inVg7y69hTpii9M5czdEkZM1NPpA2f20Nq0JCxAozWHObLM-VyfbV0ygbrlw-p2hXZAYPJp3pDdoBSMORQgJBprFop13Zy1LtANc0NfeEdunfZ6yOzQ2VdW_gGzzoj5HNS_Hm_pUrplE6u3ky9KxdLw6FyJAjKuXzF1Ues1pwCFqk6yU/s1000/DSC_1001.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="667" data-original-width="1000" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijWAqAtOm1inVg7y69hTpii9M5czdEkZM1NPpA2f20Nq0JCxAozWHObLM-VyfbV0ygbrlw-p2hXZAYPJp3pDdoBSMORQgJBprFop13Zy1LtANc0NfeEdunfZ6yOzQ2VdW_gGzzoj5HNS_Hm_pUrplE6u3ky9KxdLw6FyJAjKuXzF1Ues1pwCFqk6yU/w400-h266/DSC_1001.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption">Early-morning panorama of the Murchison Range<br /><br /><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMacbfKws6EqiTQbJdtTtLVXoDeLEWTaQ68UkcDZYO2iJxdLzkgEViVmBVuIouRl8kl4Np_vsGH06uUSODsKLtFq4cliJ35CtcfR0mpQck3037MfkPVrET7OhnEpITb2drGDkEIi24EOVSXiduY4YeBDh13r75lZ40PGzH2OR2Cq4lcC3f1MJ6e-Jb/s1000/DSC_1007.jpg" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="667" data-original-width="1000" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMacbfKws6EqiTQbJdtTtLVXoDeLEWTaQ68UkcDZYO2iJxdLzkgEViVmBVuIouRl8kl4Np_vsGH06uUSODsKLtFq4cliJ35CtcfR0mpQck3037MfkPVrET7OhnEpITb2drGDkEIi24EOVSXiduY4YeBDh13r75lZ40PGzH2OR2Cq4lcC3f1MJ6e-Jb/w400-h266/DSC_1007.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption">Terri on day two of the Kepler Track<br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table></td></tr></tbody></table></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-6HKxIpofux-iSQnKIIJWenynOV3njlSZIXaYGmNb0d-yITpll5TXfke9s1fb3WBj9FyZwbwtL9P3Y5_UK3jr_mCEGR9Z2ZxhSBNDAEZC6ZsXeXpeiH5hDLdCpZYHUHv7Pp7WrHhnGiejd2yFnvjOaEzLljlBvE5d3uJKt_WWa6zYzePHW2G23qSq/s1000/DSC_1023.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="667" data-original-width="1000" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-6HKxIpofux-iSQnKIIJWenynOV3njlSZIXaYGmNb0d-yITpll5TXfke9s1fb3WBj9FyZwbwtL9P3Y5_UK3jr_mCEGR9Z2ZxhSBNDAEZC6ZsXeXpeiH5hDLdCpZYHUHv7Pp7WrHhnGiejd2yFnvjOaEzLljlBvE5d3uJKt_WWa6zYzePHW2G23qSq/w400-h266/DSC_1023.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Lovely ridge walk leaving the summit of Mt. Luxmore<br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><div style="text-align: justify;">After a hearty feed of oatmeal to see us through a long day of hiking, we packed up and hit the trail by 7:30, the first party of the day (not counting the runner). It was a perfect day for walking, with every corner bringing new sweeping vistas of mountain peaks. As we ascended towards Luxmore Peak there was more and more snow on the ground, the remnants of what had fallen two days earlier (the rain we had in Te Anau fell as snow higher up). At the junction point where the side trip to the summit of Luxmore branches off the main Kepler Track, there were a couple of keas, keen to harass us and perhaps steal some food from our packs. We kept a wary eye on the pair, took some photos and then strolled up to the peak. When we returned, we found the next set of trekkers trying to protect their packs from the inquisitive, mischeavous parrots. Keas are relatively rare nowadays, with somewhere between 3000 and 5000 found throughout the South Island. Sadly some 160,000 keas were shot and poisoned throughout the mid-20th century, allegedly to protect sheep; New Zealand's history of how it has dealt with its native flora and fauna is a long litany of human-made disasters.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcOyggcOXi2pN7dd0GLGH0IKdl-ljC-YBo-O30r98I0kbz-upBKU35c-I7m6wm8De83DwSvDX-ZwZkfwBnkD1455lCxzP9FXRMnVc54edF1C_ouUjOAkBhFEXJ-57DuIXcdT6z8Ys6Ij5veHTIxEcbcniHxhojRoohrooKl2E8Araq16rczBQPFIdR/s1000/DSC_1039.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="667" data-original-width="1000" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcOyggcOXi2pN7dd0GLGH0IKdl-ljC-YBo-O30r98I0kbz-upBKU35c-I7m6wm8De83DwSvDX-ZwZkfwBnkD1455lCxzP9FXRMnVc54edF1C_ouUjOAkBhFEXJ-57DuIXcdT6z8Ys6Ij5veHTIxEcbcniHxhojRoohrooKl2E8Araq16rczBQPFIdR/w400-h266/DSC_1039.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Striking scenery to walk through<br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEix_TeNBqKLyQEKsP-OEpZDqRi-ITByf21x82tJ2cL4xKhu19X8e7bNrIJjKJcoEEasbvCmlFoD4nDq6_5aZfBUwYOpU-YoIi_kR-Dj4eHefOB_4FCKr-MyXVOJAgjEwNcVjRdDDwoaF1L3DSPD-DbZkLBrt1XgmBYyj7N_9gBhRmO6tp7Az6gKi-gf/s1000/DSC_1056.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="667" data-original-width="1000" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEix_TeNBqKLyQEKsP-OEpZDqRi-ITByf21x82tJ2cL4xKhu19X8e7bNrIJjKJcoEEasbvCmlFoD4nDq6_5aZfBUwYOpU-YoIi_kR-Dj4eHefOB_4FCKr-MyXVOJAgjEwNcVjRdDDwoaF1L3DSPD-DbZkLBrt1XgmBYyj7N_9gBhRmO6tp7Az6gKi-gf/w400-h266/DSC_1056.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Wildflowers<br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table></div><div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifu62XcoE3aTHWqVvB-W6SCln8oypfRohaAJy1L8hOsOwm4VmZYIevTA3zM20k683XJgpNqGnNXrF7Ekcl39E53SKGQsoaRqar1_FKWAZvBj0EhIYBXrhGRrArBUsTscRXZ886G-NJlBM0S2up4EZIHX5pKK6qfEz7OyyETn-sY2yOYaIYKhevZ1Va/s1000/DSC_1061.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="667" data-original-width="1000" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifu62XcoE3aTHWqVvB-W6SCln8oypfRohaAJy1L8hOsOwm4VmZYIevTA3zM20k683XJgpNqGnNXrF7Ekcl39E53SKGQsoaRqar1_FKWAZvBj0EhIYBXrhGRrArBUsTscRXZ886G-NJlBM0S2up4EZIHX5pKK6qfEz7OyyETn-sY2yOYaIYKhevZ1Va/w400-h266/DSC_1061.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Across the valley<br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><div style="text-align: justify;">We spent the next few hours undulating along tussock-clad ridges. The views down to various arms of Lake Te Anau and across to the Murchison Range were ever-changing and never dull, and kept our minds off the amount of climbing and descending that we were doing. We passed Forest Burn and Hanging Valley shelters, both perched in dramatic spots and featuring resident delinquent keas. Eventually, just as we were starting to wonder if our maps were correct, the path finally began a long, steep descent back into the forest. It was a long trudge and our legs, unused to descending so steeply with packs on our backs, were protesting by the time the path debouched into the flat bottom of Iris Burn valley. The forest was once again enchanting, something out of a fantasy novel, with everything wreathed in dense veils of moss. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEwHxtKmus0xGpVAoXYtBEZPvWQVPrjwZk1eTiLZ6-5POMUthdp5gxXsQaM1TSEfeGpEQ8F4MOqW1gTp0xjDLjxF5zvfzf8SUUhpmfMEzSTEOo_FPum11FByEAueR7Vw4rgLz55BxOkrI-E-EseyPMgLvz1riRvtaqG0cBGFXcdfOgin4f3OBhDV9F/s1000/DSC_1064.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="667" data-original-width="1000" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEwHxtKmus0xGpVAoXYtBEZPvWQVPrjwZk1eTiLZ6-5POMUthdp5gxXsQaM1TSEfeGpEQ8F4MOqW1gTp0xjDLjxF5zvfzf8SUUhpmfMEzSTEOo_FPum11FByEAueR7Vw4rgLz55BxOkrI-E-EseyPMgLvz1riRvtaqG0cBGFXcdfOgin4f3OBhDV9F/w400-h266/DSC_1064.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">More wildflower colour</div><div style="text-align: justify;"></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2VrVsWxOWaeOrnGYCXzmQiojVinIDEAFisYTA6T2P1LLG_I2irXDX0BsVHgw56CDAVh-t4Tin5hPpGXpeYaua3DL0rFrlICf3l6qhfQFmVFFdRtH1-JX1MDzz0JeY3XWb2OXpOZ13daDVU4c-e0Ab5zuNGZaZJeAxNLrh8hY-X9ku2oPYxe-ow7Sh/s1000/DSC_1067.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1000" data-original-width="667" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2VrVsWxOWaeOrnGYCXzmQiojVinIDEAFisYTA6T2P1LLG_I2irXDX0BsVHgw56CDAVh-t4Tin5hPpGXpeYaua3DL0rFrlICf3l6qhfQFmVFFdRtH1-JX1MDzz0JeY3XWb2OXpOZ13daDVU4c-e0Ab5zuNGZaZJeAxNLrh8hY-X9ku2oPYxe-ow7Sh/w266-h400/DSC_1067.jpg" width="266" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">One of the arms of convoluted Lake Te Anau</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilICMqIt3krmlwn5IuKTMqnR6lAS4vvMshUlxE-dunmsu0X-VKO6CKbPxyg0_EAGhsc7qCYTAHh3uHosFOawH_8J8ksuWnijEwPUcanyS6B1FlgPjkdqn-kP0oEhrmR7Yf0ibSK0HAuHu1pM16hd4kUQ7RnIFzHqXRc-HMsbsk80j-zhTUTAuu00Mc/s1000/DSC_1073.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="667" data-original-width="1000" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilICMqIt3krmlwn5IuKTMqnR6lAS4vvMshUlxE-dunmsu0X-VKO6CKbPxyg0_EAGhsc7qCYTAHh3uHosFOawH_8J8ksuWnijEwPUcanyS6B1FlgPjkdqn-kP0oEhrmR7Yf0ibSK0HAuHu1pM16hd4kUQ7RnIFzHqXRc-HMsbsk80j-zhTUTAuu00Mc/w400-h266/DSC_1073.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Fabulous foliage<br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6NbH-g24mtin8zhPhSuQbYG3BHOYjaOHZxIzASUTBw05oqJ2I_KVN-8ZWPGx1NY-_A58ZMh53I7N7kUdt3NSMdh2IIzmGlnrqHcPAG0g2dykyTgoIDSxK_5TPY9IUt-raLatJhjAwuzevFfu3uN3rnpOvyXsndUvhrghHws3TfX0gYFI1NABpN8Os/s1000/DSC_1076.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="667" data-original-width="1000" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6NbH-g24mtin8zhPhSuQbYG3BHOYjaOHZxIzASUTBw05oqJ2I_KVN-8ZWPGx1NY-_A58ZMh53I7N7kUdt3NSMdh2IIzmGlnrqHcPAG0g2dykyTgoIDSxK_5TPY9IUt-raLatJhjAwuzevFfu3uN3rnpOvyXsndUvhrghHws3TfX0gYFI1NABpN8Os/w400-h266/DSC_1076.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Stunning open moorland on day two<br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijQLLXRxHQyHhtKO1ZP7BiFrB9V5TsQ9F7noANhx6rABpFBxPd6NEb3cj9M50iolD_D94Dq9qCLywxBJoGWnz9fbyWwtUYUMlHsXeFDINjkQZbJkQ-YVviO2thFd4-lUCqogBB0Kajuwu78sIkdaqQ_9hdO91dqJlesKNChE2TNWIHZ8nAoMm_C9FX/s1000/DSC_1084.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="667" data-original-width="1000" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijQLLXRxHQyHhtKO1ZP7BiFrB9V5TsQ9F7noANhx6rABpFBxPd6NEb3cj9M50iolD_D94Dq9qCLywxBJoGWnz9fbyWwtUYUMlHsXeFDINjkQZbJkQ-YVviO2thFd4-lUCqogBB0Kajuwu78sIkdaqQ_9hdO91dqJlesKNChE2TNWIHZ8nAoMm_C9FX/w400-h266/DSC_1084.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Pretty pleased with the weather and scenery<br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5B3Tg2vIuRGKEplPpAOuE1RXtxgAA9ZkdHC_c5Em83pRTcQa4C2WKp2jke-YY9ZyNH4hJreAz_waDW7ahYpGCvftnCJitsJNbJ-i-Nb-kbLMYf7cq54lCKefulLRcS7BjVA1v0HNHAt_1z_o7NtZQOvAYb6AalDevck-PseDeOAswiEqbJSK5Hg29/s1000/DSC_1096.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="667" data-original-width="1000" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5B3Tg2vIuRGKEplPpAOuE1RXtxgAA9ZkdHC_c5Em83pRTcQa4C2WKp2jke-YY9ZyNH4hJreAz_waDW7ahYpGCvftnCJitsJNbJ-i-Nb-kbLMYf7cq54lCKefulLRcS7BjVA1v0HNHAt_1z_o7NtZQOvAYb6AalDevck-PseDeOAswiEqbJSK5Hg29/w400-h266/DSC_1096.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Terri facing down a cheeky kea<br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><div style="text-align: justify;">We got to Iris Burn Hut by mid-afternoon, made more grilled-cheese sandwiches and then headed out for a swim to rinse off the grime of a long day of trekking. The water was cold and the air was thick with sandflies, so we didn't linger, but instead walked up to a nearby waterfall. We returned to the hut and set about preparing dinner (sweet potatoes slathered in cheese and pasta sauce). Our hut warden, a veteran Swiss-born woman, told us that we were in a hot spot for kiwis and bats, so after our hut talk, we walked out in search of both these rarely-seen animals. We could definitely hear kiwis calling, but we had no luck at all seeing them. When we returned to the hut, defeated, we learned that another group had spotted a kiwi about one minute after we'd passed them in the forest. There were no bat sightings, and we sank into bed and fell asleep immediately, much later than usual.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRppOdgb5hhML6yTF_JRqXhTbwc0_BbI28fwmNLvTm-bFpAvw07noeEyiIaQHcW8Ov6xXczysrCY5nOMx-mxTGWhHlWuna4ptOg9VR1UCox1j0FzR-2KBlpJW3Yhq1l9u_olKLs5AV9lhriikxSLwGVPMoFNYZTCSB8SN9XKk83GoBr1aFYX7XHykD/s1000/DSC_1098.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="667" data-original-width="1000" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRppOdgb5hhML6yTF_JRqXhTbwc0_BbI28fwmNLvTm-bFpAvw07noeEyiIaQHcW8Ov6xXczysrCY5nOMx-mxTGWhHlWuna4ptOg9VR1UCox1j0FzR-2KBlpJW3Yhq1l9u_olKLs5AV9lhriikxSLwGVPMoFNYZTCSB8SN9XKk83GoBr1aFYX7XHykD/w400-h266/DSC_1098.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A kea, perhaps the most intelligent and mischievous bird on Earth</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsZ6niKqqFX4aVAx4jdUv1GZFAnsTBCe19h-vi97TKTlaQAoKW554ZaOUA32vxgLz50gQEihFo0_fhQtQx7RH5U4r10QDXNvaRyzSXeoJEN_4oHrqcukXnHIe-AbYo-eUZ1NS4aOseInK258vSEO6gtnr2e0s0mKidsIPFnzsMf2PB__s8ryuAkfb7/s1000/DSC_1130.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="667" data-original-width="1000" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsZ6niKqqFX4aVAx4jdUv1GZFAnsTBCe19h-vi97TKTlaQAoKW554ZaOUA32vxgLz50gQEihFo0_fhQtQx7RH5U4r10QDXNvaRyzSXeoJEN_4oHrqcukXnHIe-AbYo-eUZ1NS4aOseInK258vSEO6gtnr2e0s0mKidsIPFnzsMf2PB__s8ryuAkfb7/w400-h266/DSC_1130.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Descending into the lowlands again<br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2uPcv70FowxZPcBxTI2Uks4XVlIBJEuTFb4LBqj7QwurejGEALySM8i-uVTNu4rZv-XbKEehv4OE3nvfS22KXFgiPCCvN5sPfj02A3PKD31MANyCmg5OG4vCg8_-lkPBpBkm5U_NtV1Y6b4o-PpDFJLfU0F-xJLAsaVPPyvrRiv0akR9gOwH620xU/s1000/DSC_1131.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1000" data-original-width="667" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2uPcv70FowxZPcBxTI2Uks4XVlIBJEuTFb4LBqj7QwurejGEALySM8i-uVTNu4rZv-XbKEehv4OE3nvfS22KXFgiPCCvN5sPfj02A3PKD31MANyCmg5OG4vCg8_-lkPBpBkm5U_NtV1Y6b4o-PpDFJLfU0F-xJLAsaVPPyvrRiv0akR9gOwH620xU/w266-h400/DSC_1131.jpg" width="266" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Waterfall<br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiy2PXm-z6swMfQFsOdMLkVWQUmWRU6NM6-BLeAmQcUn3VEF0rP8cKxoMOQZW7sD-D09N6pghkQgsLK5UzXstEKkpYF3jwhBQROmebHUF0EWkn_m7v3qMcj2Jzcb3Q3KIPNSfxsra_3USexUUK7gWu2j1aCOU9rB3S04jPM6lLcVvQqhPCaLm0NCmb7/s1000/DSC_1139.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="667" data-original-width="1000" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiy2PXm-z6swMfQFsOdMLkVWQUmWRU6NM6-BLeAmQcUn3VEF0rP8cKxoMOQZW7sD-D09N6pghkQgsLK5UzXstEKkpYF3jwhBQROmebHUF0EWkn_m7v3qMcj2Jzcb3Q3KIPNSfxsra_3USexUUK7gWu2j1aCOU9rB3S04jPM6lLcVvQqhPCaLm0NCmb7/w400-h266/DSC_1139.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Very pretty wildflower<br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><div style="text-align: justify;">Our final day of hiking was long but easy. Many hikers split the trek into 4 sections, but we decided to save money on hut fees by having a long final day (22 km), and shaving 9 kilometres off the walk by hopping onto a shuttle bus from Rainbow Reach bridge back to Te Anau. The walk was downhill all the way, so that our legs, which were pretty tired from the long, steep descent to the hut, wouldn't suffer too much. We were underway by 7:40, walking through an amazing enchanted forest, full of birdlife, including numerous bellbirds and some personable and confiding South Island robins. We took a brief lunch break at Moturau Hut, on the shore of Lake Manapouri, but we were besieged by persistent sandflies, so we didn't linger. The last stretch of the track leading into Rainbow Reach along the pretty Waiau River was supposed to be a good place to spot New Zealand falcons, a bird that we had yet to enounter, but we had as little luck with them as with kiwis. By 1:40, leg-weary but exultant, we emerged at Rainbow Reach having completed 51 km over three days. We relaxed on the grass, chatting with other trekkers as they filtered in. At 3:00 the shuttle bus appeared and we hopped aboard for the final stretch into Te Anau. We could probably have walked, but we were pretty tired and the last stretch didn't look unmissable. By 4:00 we were back at the Parklands, setting up our camp again and getting a bucket shower. I wandered out to get Indian takeout which we devoured before turning in early for a well-earned rest.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxYQxBoBuzWZFJAIITjBmnRAu-8jBDHwVDYHhHHgiBAhRlWy-uWKzmFCLA7kGGaeW30SiuuaHPw5oLymxpzLIaCrz4amxaaudug6ytXngGA4uE7prY4tV0dVScrJOd9W-tX3OfU8WW05CASNpMkwqzhtN3CJOJXDHp20PKBiYuNv-hD5M4szYOGFJg/s1000/DSC_1144.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1000" data-original-width="667" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxYQxBoBuzWZFJAIITjBmnRAu-8jBDHwVDYHhHHgiBAhRlWy-uWKzmFCLA7kGGaeW30SiuuaHPw5oLymxpzLIaCrz4amxaaudug6ytXngGA4uE7prY4tV0dVScrJOd9W-tX3OfU8WW05CASNpMkwqzhtN3CJOJXDHp20PKBiYuNv-hD5M4szYOGFJg/w266-h400/DSC_1144.jpg" width="266" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Waterfall near Iris Burn Hut<br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table></div><div><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8oou1IQCFJRCQwj1oDAL5HJ3pMbVT2Nu7m6rc7ZakiQQhq2Fhua7Yu3mqnDaJusobK07u8S5ftgZJKARAfX9gN_mLrCVwWMyyrQcVho-OWxe7UyWfqmagISjzwfDXXOgEIqG1S9ZOtfK_rzEqU7CC3Bf1VrxtKEHzFinL5N5lMc__FpXHbgwSQnf2/s1000/DSC_1159.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="667" data-original-width="1000" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8oou1IQCFJRCQwj1oDAL5HJ3pMbVT2Nu7m6rc7ZakiQQhq2Fhua7Yu3mqnDaJusobK07u8S5ftgZJKARAfX9gN_mLrCVwWMyyrQcVho-OWxe7UyWfqmagISjzwfDXXOgEIqG1S9ZOtfK_rzEqU7CC3Bf1VrxtKEHzFinL5N5lMc__FpXHbgwSQnf2/w400-h266/DSC_1159.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">South Island robin</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWZLBRQw4QlJ2BP5UARxhCrSBAMq5iIDCMSeWo_J6_DpQXH-l92ha53OrzLr8rUuux4S3S_w6MbsS7DxB0Bxf33-7imiJr5CHwREWycMgO5TYbCTVV1uBcaavOFNie0bPB_6jm2gVcqV1RyTD80TJE0EDxv_TXRl-EFYr1QOl83at6IZQmANpoiq6W/s1000/DSC_1161.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="667" data-original-width="1000" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWZLBRQw4QlJ2BP5UARxhCrSBAMq5iIDCMSeWo_J6_DpQXH-l92ha53OrzLr8rUuux4S3S_w6MbsS7DxB0Bxf33-7imiJr5CHwREWycMgO5TYbCTVV1uBcaavOFNie0bPB_6jm2gVcqV1RyTD80TJE0EDxv_TXRl-EFYr1QOl83at6IZQmANpoiq6W/w400-h266/DSC_1161.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">More wildflower loveliness</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfjONCz9qrm2lr_qXqWRUlYQiKMrFl6qpl28xoqa4wZngw4Q3kLv6fgZ2tU1KOPvXO6dD7fOk7JBb6SWENUD6yQYrH4VgkAXHrOhx0uHHZCiYzN-pDgp2HVVoQYFG9n5g6KK_LYvU9eXxAe8FUto7WY4HBDaL8yuwu1wUgDuIiXMiOEs2p6UGyNNp0/s1000/DSC_1162.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="667" data-original-width="1000" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfjONCz9qrm2lr_qXqWRUlYQiKMrFl6qpl28xoqa4wZngw4Q3kLv6fgZ2tU1KOPvXO6dD7fOk7JBb6SWENUD6yQYrH4VgkAXHrOhx0uHHZCiYzN-pDgp2HVVoQYFG9n5g6KK_LYvU9eXxAe8FUto7WY4HBDaL8yuwu1wUgDuIiXMiOEs2p6UGyNNp0/w400-h266/DSC_1162.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Fungal funkiness</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNmqQwmDuSTQjEM3JFC8yNMQco3NEAJtGSNX5oygxkQpza87b_z6erXbUJBaNBGLoDLI1CMFXSdluPJJshk5d2E08Al94h26yHq5Uc3h3Y4UBSaakSbhXhjnRhK6a1SM0e42TRZkzw9gWsUkntQOdr60AqqXdKY3ySH3UFcaGo7P3NzETzZwBzlJUS/s1000/DSC_1164.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="667" data-original-width="1000" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNmqQwmDuSTQjEM3JFC8yNMQco3NEAJtGSNX5oygxkQpza87b_z6erXbUJBaNBGLoDLI1CMFXSdluPJJshk5d2E08Al94h26yHq5Uc3h3Y4UBSaakSbhXhjnRhK6a1SM0e42TRZkzw9gWsUkntQOdr60AqqXdKY3ySH3UFcaGo7P3NzETzZwBzlJUS/w400-h266/DSC_1164.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">On the long trudge out of the Kepler</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9_qhIa56_TU-7VTve_M6c5TGiLz-XN0xKPVMg4RkDWrtJTKpgpob-bFGz-HLkpXy8Z_HMuMXlN8QpMDvr36QOKsVuK-Jbf24g1AKOMS5xEX9o3cEQ1cQfNn005Sx_V6Q1Q-bCxiC6ihLx7Rp0gHLOhubYSSAEjk8yXUZegbd4H8O9EMusi-ecXOsj/s1000/DSC_1167.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1000" data-original-width="667" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9_qhIa56_TU-7VTve_M6c5TGiLz-XN0xKPVMg4RkDWrtJTKpgpob-bFGz-HLkpXy8Z_HMuMXlN8QpMDvr36QOKsVuK-Jbf24g1AKOMS5xEX9o3cEQ1cQfNn005Sx_V6Q1Q-bCxiC6ihLx7Rp0gHLOhubYSSAEjk8yXUZegbd4H8O9EMusi-ecXOsj/w266-h400/DSC_1167.jpg" width="266" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Very pretty beech forest</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAFJLmsg34aWbsvZahUBiLCqmdo8GlhNGtsg6DI-CcTIf61jYKsc0BySvfFvQdYN0trn1n-fSUgV7E9Df4yNTxx9PeMN20CKOXYTsjXc2Fn-p2dTFokU8IL9hVFUpW3i0_kYm2enlx9K60b5k4qV7LrJf4qU9D83Uuejf_DP7xAQdg_2ej0csOSU-V/s1000/DSC_1170.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1000" data-original-width="667" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAFJLmsg34aWbsvZahUBiLCqmdo8GlhNGtsg6DI-CcTIf61jYKsc0BySvfFvQdYN0trn1n-fSUgV7E9Df4yNTxx9PeMN20CKOXYTsjXc2Fn-p2dTFokU8IL9hVFUpW3i0_kYm2enlx9K60b5k4qV7LrJf4qU9D83Uuejf_DP7xAQdg_2ej0csOSU-V/w266-h400/DSC_1170.jpg" width="266" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mushroom multiplicity</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2gEAxRRcPaKZfZ4YQ0kNRlLn36woZir-HB1_wdaXGStvXjlpbrdeeZyNf-eZYYfG55lxWecPP7N5CeHrM5yz60ooUuYvHyuIODkY_JTwdktTKw9ZKReDVQI4UmCjOpaTbqH_TxjEJ9py6Rs8DLn60LMcEZQIjdzD4pf4wmzLrwvk5B6VElLTEO3yj/s1000/DSC_1176.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="667" data-original-width="1000" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2gEAxRRcPaKZfZ4YQ0kNRlLn36woZir-HB1_wdaXGStvXjlpbrdeeZyNf-eZYYfG55lxWecPP7N5CeHrM5yz60ooUuYvHyuIODkY_JTwdktTKw9ZKReDVQI4UmCjOpaTbqH_TxjEJ9py6Rs8DLn60LMcEZQIjdzD4pf4wmzLrwvk5B6VElLTEO3yj/w400-h266/DSC_1176.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Lake Manapouri<br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhB6jRJKKqIXsJKuPLN-iCEU3czrZGBmiuYrACWnA0jZ7A8isJwBvEPxuAGHpTZRolh_v6eCyKPk3qYVOXVKXUJwKWQ3sL67U2rPj3QKkbM9Ch3aQyRCl7KemaHM6Z1ckfxSdhAJ2HWhIuf6ju2kQuDk1y0iHnKwu0ziEl32tDe71taWpbw8IXkM8Eg/s1000/DSC_1177.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="667" data-original-width="1000" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhB6jRJKKqIXsJKuPLN-iCEU3czrZGBmiuYrACWnA0jZ7A8isJwBvEPxuAGHpTZRolh_v6eCyKPk3qYVOXVKXUJwKWQ3sL67U2rPj3QKkbM9Ch3aQyRCl7KemaHM6Z1ckfxSdhAJ2HWhIuf6ju2kQuDk1y0iHnKwu0ziEl32tDe71taWpbw8IXkM8Eg/w400-h266/DSC_1177.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Waiau River<br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><div style="text-align: justify;">We had two days off before our booking on the Milford Track. The first day was spent in utter sloth at the Parklands under grey skies. On the second day we packed, bought groceries and then went for a bicycle ride along the Waiau River, getting a view of the section of the Kepler Track which we had skipped. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgr9qzRyJ3f4_DZfCXy_rgBXlyMdu1h35dxawwLJF3G8eCOQXM1WeWLY51BDwY42i080ydu4sGsnp4B7kTEgrogJvotir1o9cI_Ie0kL7V4NEB2B76DqjmVDUh39ByPLaTQdx7g1S2YFRbq2Com1hUPOc61h1hqzJDInajn74EqlI_-Uh9qzRrBVNCA/s1000/DSC_1189.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="667" data-original-width="1000" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgr9qzRyJ3f4_DZfCXy_rgBXlyMdu1h35dxawwLJF3G8eCOQXM1WeWLY51BDwY42i080ydu4sGsnp4B7kTEgrogJvotir1o9cI_Ie0kL7V4NEB2B76DqjmVDUh39ByPLaTQdx7g1S2YFRbq2Com1hUPOc61h1hqzJDInajn74EqlI_-Uh9qzRrBVNCA/w400-h266/DSC_1189.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A life-long dream come true!</td></tr></tbody></table><div style="text-align: justify;">December 11th dawned grey and drizzly. Our (extremely expensive) bus and boat trip to the start of the Milford Track didn't leave until early afternoon, so we had a leisurely getaway. We packed up our backpacks and our van, did a workout on our gymnastic rings (slung over a children's swing set in the motel grounds), then wandered over to the DOC office to check in. We were glad to discover that since I had gotten a New Zealand driver's license back in October, I was now regarded as enough of a New Zealand resident to be given resident's rates for park fees and hut fees, saving me the better part of NZ$ 100, while we both qualified for further discounts for being members of the New Zealand Motorhome and Caravan Association (NZMCA). Soon enough a bus appeared to whisk us, along with a score of other hikers, north up the shore of Lake Te Anau to the boat dock at Te Anau Downs. We got aboard a reassuringly large and solid boat for the ride across and up the lake to Glade Wharf. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjE_EEBWOC6Tkko2H7JV1XZTpxXD0cj-sMqv-OXxHxoq2pQOO8xHb49VQegGbyRKxQfCIZQpqMdkvTiegectgVJoUSc3Ho4e9k8WeIY0Hbdz2QJ7FMLCUWJtNSqAbau5MyE7c664Xo9C-ZhQS-rIuI9zV1jDvF4jjX5xo6k2hnenGgSHLM-ixOiLH_t/s1000/DSC_1195.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="666" data-original-width="1000" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjE_EEBWOC6Tkko2H7JV1XZTpxXD0cj-sMqv-OXxHxoq2pQOO8xHb49VQegGbyRKxQfCIZQpqMdkvTiegectgVJoUSc3Ho4e9k8WeIY0Hbdz2QJ7FMLCUWJtNSqAbau5MyE7c664Xo9C-ZhQS-rIuI9zV1jDvF4jjX5xo6k2hnenGgSHLM-ixOiLH_t/w400-h266/DSC_1195.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Tomtit near the start of the Milford Track<br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><div style="text-align: justify;">Terri was keen to leap ashore and race ahead of the wave of trekkers exiting the boat, but first we had to stop for a photo celebrating the fact that after a lifetime of dreaming of it, Terri was finally about to start the iconic Milford Track. We walked for an hour along a level, easy track through (once again) dense, atmospheric forest to reach Clinton Hut. There was still low cloud cover, so we didn't see much of the peaks surrounding us, although we had an impression of bulk and steepness. The Clinton River had vivid postcard colours in its waters and pebbled beaches, while the forest was alive with robins, bellbirds, tomtits and (to judge by the birdsong we heard) possibly the very hard-to-spot mohua, or yellowhead. We kept up our tradition by concocting grilled cheese sandwiches for a mid-afternoon snack before wandering out to look at the wetlands around the hut, hoping forlornly that we might see the always-elusive kotata (fernbird). We returned to cook up a superb dinner of steak, sweet potatoes and broccoli, washed down with a bottle of wine.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgW5WToX9p_2HZECipvzFlIGKR-4VXCS7sjmh5JLWdQLWf_qTJ2ystTtOUvxaz17yhiS5lweRopyXL8uN0ALl3K4hII5hHQIt4mM0SAlf3W9sYbuNgT2oWiNR9GDB1VRv87v4HhNBrBoG_suSgeQkHNJg-RjiGkNrsOCQGW8f4xKkJKoO-ZOy-UtON4/s1000/DSC_1249.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1000" data-original-width="667" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgW5WToX9p_2HZECipvzFlIGKR-4VXCS7sjmh5JLWdQLWf_qTJ2ystTtOUvxaz17yhiS5lweRopyXL8uN0ALl3K4hII5hHQIt4mM0SAlf3W9sYbuNgT2oWiNR9GDB1VRv87v4HhNBrBoG_suSgeQkHNJg-RjiGkNrsOCQGW8f4xKkJKoO-ZOy-UtON4/w266-h400/DSC_1249.jpg" width="266" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">On the way to Mintaro Hut<br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><div style="text-align: justify;">December 12th was a red-letter day, the highlight of the Milford Track. We were up betimes (Terri had been kept up for much of the night by a persistent snorer), made a quick breakfast of porridge and were the second walkers onto the track at 6:45. The weather was slightly overcast, but it cleared as we walked upstream along the West Branch of the Clinton River. The path led through dense forest, with long stretches along the crystalline waters of the river. There was a great deal of birdsong, along with sightings of tomtits, wekas with babies, bellbirds and even a kaka (a cousin of the kea) singing lustily in the treetops. The river was patrolled by scaups and paradise shelducks, while Terri was lucky to spot a South Island saddleback as it flew across the track. One species we didn't see was the whio (blue duck), a rare endemic said to inhabit the waters of the Clinton. After a short snack stop at Prairie Shelter (it was shortened by persistently annoying sandflies), we climbed on past avalanche debris, gaining altitude as we approached Mintaro Hut under cloudless blue skies, arriving at the stroke of noon.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhq_XAAvC653FRmcdHgXOs8Ts18jAmYYwOXR1CY3nbAuwMjQ5900MTdbna-swb5P-8nZcrRLuAUHRUY7xeBqh9nnP95wL1pvRfyzyoqqpZKumODjqdwKc-bQSrN-m3dRU82W3Ll6kNfWM-QxsZM6o6XkzwjG2mwyt86_Mgq9levfCJN8h07KM6YFaAo/s1000/DSC_1265.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1000" data-original-width="667" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhq_XAAvC653FRmcdHgXOs8Ts18jAmYYwOXR1CY3nbAuwMjQ5900MTdbna-swb5P-8nZcrRLuAUHRUY7xeBqh9nnP95wL1pvRfyzyoqqpZKumODjqdwKc-bQSrN-m3dRU82W3Ll6kNfWM-QxsZM6o6XkzwjG2mwyt86_Mgq9levfCJN8h07KM6YFaAo/w266-h400/DSC_1265.jpg" width="266" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Some lovely scenery along the Clinton River<br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8fQraeY41DuC_XQrS7njTdcxJqeUXJLZH3VBb4Nmj8wixyGMpwxTJPb1rCt-AI83ctDMdgJYbkIdzHOIs6BUc8xjmUXdH2L3fzZfIb838D7j3-pQc8lNOOZAuRyPhUPNLAcXj8dOWTE428Dl-H5O7c8qlqFM97cKPkGBWwj14H8hTiSoS7qu_clr4/s1000/DSC_1282.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="667" data-original-width="1000" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8fQraeY41DuC_XQrS7njTdcxJqeUXJLZH3VBb4Nmj8wixyGMpwxTJPb1rCt-AI83ctDMdgJYbkIdzHOIs6BUc8xjmUXdH2L3fzZfIb838D7j3-pQc8lNOOZAuRyPhUPNLAcXj8dOWTE428Dl-H5O7c8qlqFM97cKPkGBWwj14H8hTiSoS7qu_clr4/w400-h266/DSC_1282.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Kaka calling loudly near Mintaro Hut<br /><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh85F6ID9_1liEdTOKWII8QTS6tduxMdmJwFDR_GSoKHnkskmDOr98yABh42OxqpEUeeQHngbBQRWup5-1lxWyXOcsNDOQflM6PZVLSAOK8aVj0IIUxHqZmPMKxgkSdRRp2nbHkOoKRBGPIBQ8pmHkrXtxJUhTQo1bQFwxmDLYDaZvrmJ-gJcdIsiQA/s1000/DSC_1297.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="667" data-original-width="1000" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh85F6ID9_1liEdTOKWII8QTS6tduxMdmJwFDR_GSoKHnkskmDOr98yABh42OxqpEUeeQHngbBQRWup5-1lxWyXOcsNDOQflM6PZVLSAOK8aVj0IIUxHqZmPMKxgkSdRRp2nbHkOoKRBGPIBQ8pmHkrXtxJUhTQo1bQFwxmDLYDaZvrmJ-gJcdIsiQA/w400-h266/DSC_1297.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">More pretty wildflowers<br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><br /></td></tr></tbody></table></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhs4l8ajZLfWwbH7-5gFHn9VPvPM6pLSVSVzP74kYYcS6HpXuqiQcw-jHI3_rAr5cTj6MwuAHMEp85Ws51VdAbGwlB6_7gj3d4oODqp2Okcvfjr05y-g6ubhYY1PvgA94nkaQos5UTEfU49W4WiQT85oOBFgYd27t3ZLaK2fKpzpm7_P7W2947kt5Rb/s1000/DSC_1310.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="667" data-original-width="1000" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhs4l8ajZLfWwbH7-5gFHn9VPvPM6pLSVSVzP74kYYcS6HpXuqiQcw-jHI3_rAr5cTj6MwuAHMEp85Ws51VdAbGwlB6_7gj3d4oODqp2Okcvfjr05y-g6ubhYY1PvgA94nkaQos5UTEfU49W4WiQT85oOBFgYd27t3ZLaK2fKpzpm7_P7W2947kt5Rb/w400-h266/DSC_1310.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A troublesome kea about to be caught and banded<br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><div style="text-align: justify;">Fortified by another grilled cheese sandwich, we claimed our beds, left our heavy packs and set off uphill towards MacKinnon Pass. We would follow this route the next morning, but the weather forecast for the morrow was dire, so we felt impelled to see the scenic highlight of the entire track while the weather was good. Unencumbered, we made good time uphill along switchbacks carved into the steep hillside. We were on top of the pass by 2:00, absorbing epic views of precipitous glacially carved peaks and a plethora of waterfalls cascading down cliffs. In the foreground a wealth of alpine wildflowers provided bright splashes of colour, while in the distance we tried to descry the following day's descent. Near the top a team of volunteers was trying to capture and band keas. We watched as a curious kea was lured forward by a colourful rag doll to step into a lasso loop lying on the ground; a quick tug and the bird was captured. Despite its reputation for fierceness, the kea was surprisingly docile as the volunteers weighed and banded the bird. We left the scientists to their work and continued onwards to the MacKinnon Shelter for a different angle on the mountains, looking back towards the Clinton Valley we had walked along that morning across a series of tiny picturesque tarns. After snapping too many photos, we turned and trotted back downhill towards the hut, trying to encourage stragglers who were labouring uphill. We leapt into a swimming hole to freshen up after a long, sweaty day, then cooked up a feast of pasta carbonara and bacon). We socialized over mugs of whisky, listened to a highly entertaining hut talk, and then retired tired but content to our sleeping bags.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhngHO7vGihqeO41UrpZSI1MaQ2tkkh_t961nmMdbWl-HfmhML0DtOgx7OoAT6LfpAwLOSTBUETTvhYV_yNCVFLUDSc1GGMZj5JGZnoz04iCz-57vxCAzoII_CXVZWOJ9Z1_Eb5PNCabbgvFl8Ek6_CDom3hXrLIKClKJHQjaOEE9n8de8bp0KaK2Ht/s1000/DSC_1315.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="667" data-original-width="1000" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhngHO7vGihqeO41UrpZSI1MaQ2tkkh_t961nmMdbWl-HfmhML0DtOgx7OoAT6LfpAwLOSTBUETTvhYV_yNCVFLUDSc1GGMZj5JGZnoz04iCz-57vxCAzoII_CXVZWOJ9Z1_Eb5PNCabbgvFl8Ek6_CDom3hXrLIKClKJHQjaOEE9n8de8bp0KaK2Ht/w400-h266/DSC_1315.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Don't step in the lasso loop!<br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMaAUGuDGpznjGPVIuRSR0wUzTE4c0-syQyHRS2bXc1CsfGkJRcZa5okzo7-gkDNb96OvA0nhXjuwJmFHoGKQatdxT2DShuOYb0E-TljKpNrM-fK2aclhH70ub7-QVl56-69n3MSHsp05I-IH2v0GMZKsbxKf-Qh3e7Ej1zBkQHbmua6dH2cFvzjaM/s1000/DSC_1337.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="667" data-original-width="1000" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMaAUGuDGpznjGPVIuRSR0wUzTE4c0-syQyHRS2bXc1CsfGkJRcZa5okzo7-gkDNb96OvA0nhXjuwJmFHoGKQatdxT2DShuOYb0E-TljKpNrM-fK2aclhH70ub7-QVl56-69n3MSHsp05I-IH2v0GMZKsbxKf-Qh3e7Ej1zBkQHbmua6dH2cFvzjaM/w400-h266/DSC_1337.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">MacKinnon Pass<br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaanoWZz8H96xqIbmN9F8PXyTLYwh9oqxVE4oriZHv4KNtJlHF3jk6u3nCjr8WJMHokrnMtcSs4Fxyeg7Bio1tGk2UpBOC-QPAHH6hi_KhcqxQhTDeAIKZY7zWPNccx3yvokF7WpxCAfbf3Txx-8k9c7Hj1BCHwAH2c3SMvCyd7_19iU2X3QN9Fdij/s1000/DSC_1347.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="667" data-original-width="1000" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaanoWZz8H96xqIbmN9F8PXyTLYwh9oqxVE4oriZHv4KNtJlHF3jk6u3nCjr8WJMHokrnMtcSs4Fxyeg7Bio1tGk2UpBOC-QPAHH6hi_KhcqxQhTDeAIKZY7zWPNccx3yvokF7WpxCAfbf3Txx-8k9c7Hj1BCHwAH2c3SMvCyd7_19iU2X3QN9Fdij/w400-h266/DSC_1347.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Near the top of McKinnon Pass<br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmeYF6_Qii4VoLjiMTiOvEZodTTiD7fE5WKQT0uLqDauWGFTuQMTMTbOI9jA4W1krmeCw4_A9FVITUtKJBOD66UI7H3uOBUNWmKZHggXq4xLRMHlO7hsZD4LLCvFgl4p7R67kTiaNoTesj5glp3oeuKUfHpZPD9c3mzM7icxPLvKCdIoLqpK_LECfs/s1000/DSC_1354.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1000" data-original-width="667" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmeYF6_Qii4VoLjiMTiOvEZodTTiD7fE5WKQT0uLqDauWGFTuQMTMTbOI9jA4W1krmeCw4_A9FVITUtKJBOD66UI7H3uOBUNWmKZHggXq4xLRMHlO7hsZD4LLCvFgl4p7R67kTiaNoTesj5glp3oeuKUfHpZPD9c3mzM7icxPLvKCdIoLqpK_LECfs/w266-h400/DSC_1354.jpg" width="266" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A very happy Terri atop McKinnon Pass<br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1H3Vv9uf7NFmZXOz0iqh8LyncJ8m7bufk-qXpu61cBAr_jKyRy4OBuz0_D6speVcemHQospqDv9IqxfBA1FLYhy1DGVLw8wiKw2I1_l1DO1nWYZusKXGFQ0W8AU3EGPZnmdMKdTynWLPCDb3q66UrZiCUJbyNDy4LazhiT3ubcSZkuJmNVQuHXkoL/s1000/DSC_1365.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="667" data-original-width="1000" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1H3Vv9uf7NFmZXOz0iqh8LyncJ8m7bufk-qXpu61cBAr_jKyRy4OBuz0_D6speVcemHQospqDv9IqxfBA1FLYhy1DGVLw8wiKw2I1_l1DO1nWYZusKXGFQ0W8AU3EGPZnmdMKdTynWLPCDb3q66UrZiCUJbyNDy4LazhiT3ubcSZkuJmNVQuHXkoL/w400-h266/DSC_1365.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">More stupendous wildflowers<br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5qS1s7raI72JjG1KiubvshAaAaL60N6DVCssiVvo3thf9va74jETCDHDRHUBCsqGfsg-Q8iDcOXMAorQr1Q_yXA8dreWVEm8PRxSZfY4nOIbYhnwWGx88LgaU2IksShU5Ub8qcLf-3RRzLcfKNcTOa_9ATsPA1q4Jao-OLukzN9S6GMzyzXG9QQ2h/s1000/DSC_1368.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="667" data-original-width="1000" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5qS1s7raI72JjG1KiubvshAaAaL60N6DVCssiVvo3thf9va74jETCDHDRHUBCsqGfsg-Q8iDcOXMAorQr1Q_yXA8dreWVEm8PRxSZfY4nOIbYhnwWGx88LgaU2IksShU5Ub8qcLf-3RRzLcfKNcTOa_9ATsPA1q4Jao-OLukzN9S6GMzyzXG9QQ2h/w400-h266/DSC_1368.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">McKinnon Pass redux, this time in the rain and clouds<br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><div style="text-align: justify;">We slept in to the late hour of 6:40 (the encircling ridges kept out the morning light, and it was an overcast day), gobbled some oatmeal and were walking by 7:30. The leaden skies soon turned to rain, and it kept up all day. We trudged uphill wearing our rain jacket and rain pants, our packs sheathed in rain covers. We went over the top of MacKinnon Pass unable to see 10 metres in front of us, glad that we'd come up the previous afternoon. We recharged with snacks at the Pass Shelter, then descended steeply into the Arthur River Valley. There were sections of track which had been raked by avalanche debris during the previous winter and spring, then a dramatic descent beside an impressive river which was an endless series of torrents and pools. Two and a quarter hours saw us emerge at Quintin Shelter, where we left our packs and enjoyed a cup of tea before heading uphill towards Sutherland Falls, the highest waterfall in Australasia. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAm2uLNeR_60mJb2oC-oDBQx7EgVYZt9TkpUgnQwM9NoCtADU-WAzXk46xbQ0e1g8yskPi7fjAewiQLMHTdzRj8ik3aV0jksR7aKDRGJZ_MgTmstlbUq_JdJyr3HT-f6sFJrkXyeivrlMuKuJUQ8rxDYXPnv0bGS8mQNs7mUxiR6DyImJJkKtRKO2K/s1000/DSC_1370.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1000" data-original-width="667" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAm2uLNeR_60mJb2oC-oDBQx7EgVYZt9TkpUgnQwM9NoCtADU-WAzXk46xbQ0e1g8yskPi7fjAewiQLMHTdzRj8ik3aV0jksR7aKDRGJZ_MgTmstlbUq_JdJyr3HT-f6sFJrkXyeivrlMuKuJUQ8rxDYXPnv0bGS8mQNs7mUxiR6DyImJJkKtRKO2K/w266-h400/DSC_1370.jpg" width="266" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ephemeral waterfalls <br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSQeBJF0fATdbSBj60hQSFdcnxUxqg5p2y0JtOD5PdK5f0sL9rQMGuNCVmgqR7Ltq5ya5J0ia8c3f8-wgSGt35HhXZTxcr3vK5wWhi-1p9SkXjgZVlrAXRlrXjt7wTz3f1xrORrcqN9ne5mKFACCk7nb7G0pgadZs2s6_PBCeB1PY5KPbP0haDuuJJ/s1000/DSC_1373.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="667" data-original-width="1000" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSQeBJF0fATdbSBj60hQSFdcnxUxqg5p2y0JtOD5PdK5f0sL9rQMGuNCVmgqR7Ltq5ya5J0ia8c3f8-wgSGt35HhXZTxcr3vK5wWhi-1p9SkXjgZVlrAXRlrXjt7wTz3f1xrORrcqN9ne5mKFACCk7nb7G0pgadZs2s6_PBCeB1PY5KPbP0haDuuJJ/w400-h266/DSC_1373.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Looking down on the upper Arthur River<br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-Xbk6DuOYKab_MAuHKshlF6vB498hSl3WSbg9JlQyE3Pb6WZS7gNixyH8eINV6FxoK2pRX_aJfOneuG4kUnaIpu7LW5GGnpoJAU5Uyjlx4GG-5NLyNBEB7EkUFgPvQYF-RoXKHfwtcNfpAIGy7HJPaBxN7ZZb-fPdoae7KP8u9q9JAcUjKWHZSJAj/s1000/DSC_1390.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="667" data-original-width="1000" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-Xbk6DuOYKab_MAuHKshlF6vB498hSl3WSbg9JlQyE3Pb6WZS7gNixyH8eINV6FxoK2pRX_aJfOneuG4kUnaIpu7LW5GGnpoJAU5Uyjlx4GG-5NLyNBEB7EkUFgPvQYF-RoXKHfwtcNfpAIGy7HJPaBxN7ZZb-fPdoae7KP8u9q9JAcUjKWHZSJAj/w400-h266/DSC_1390.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Whio (blue duck) showing off</td></tr></tbody></table><div style="text-align: justify;">We didn't see much of the falls as they were so high that their upper half was lost in the low clouds, but the sidetrip was worth it for an encounter with a whio. As we crossed a suspension bridge near Quintin Shelter, we spotted a male whio standing on a rock preening himself. Unlike most of his species, this duck wasn't at all afraid of humans, and stood there serenely as I snapped photos furiously. We didn't walk all the way to the base of the falls, turning back at another bridge that offered us as much view as we were going to get. It was pouring harder than ever as we shouldered our packs and trudged downstream to Dumpling Hut, arriving by 2:00 pm. We got a fire going in the common room and started to dry some of our sodden clothing and gear while Terri whipped up some pancakes and an instant cheesecake to replace the calories we had burned. We lounged about, reading and writing in diaries until it was time to cook up curried lentils for supper. We were in bed shortly after the obligatory hut talk and a snifter of whisky.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGN0-ufSjiQhQ8a6VmjhucF_paWNXQEJ8autI8GD0Avhe0l2oeshGqb04c9Nv-egWUVcp3jC8D2_8xjeGlegKbBRDCr1xEQaz6P9j1uoSZfCgUKCyd2E7LYK1QBzGMHPbmuP9cW-kUMoEnT8utBG7-mUCYTQPC1_-BoIoPIEn-4orMjhgZoKD7JxTM/s1000/DSC_1377.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="667" data-original-width="1000" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGN0-ufSjiQhQ8a6VmjhucF_paWNXQEJ8autI8GD0Avhe0l2oeshGqb04c9Nv-egWUVcp3jC8D2_8xjeGlegKbBRDCr1xEQaz6P9j1uoSZfCgUKCyd2E7LYK1QBzGMHPbmuP9cW-kUMoEnT8utBG7-mUCYTQPC1_-BoIoPIEn-4orMjhgZoKD7JxTM/w400-h266/DSC_1377.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Beech forest in the Arthur Valley<br /><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1fHcekOEyu39k7232DLYjrByIe4Stj9I9poNaUoIctv87bsBGcroBB9ae000nFYP-JyzU3ut6t9X0QUusz3bzvS60Got2ujeC5JAz8v1QJ-kX_6sK5GNhjeUXhRdKVkk03UbodFlnCp5ZijrFlHQVTg-R0ic6pHw4iNuXm3dSg80EHRk_jJEA-vmj/s1000/DSC_1395.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="667" data-original-width="1000" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1fHcekOEyu39k7232DLYjrByIe4Stj9I9poNaUoIctv87bsBGcroBB9ae000nFYP-JyzU3ut6t9X0QUusz3bzvS60Got2ujeC5JAz8v1QJ-kX_6sK5GNhjeUXhRdKVkk03UbodFlnCp5ZijrFlHQVTg-R0ic6pHw4iNuXm3dSg80EHRk_jJEA-vmj/w400-h266/DSC_1395.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Lunch of champions <br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table></td></tr></tbody></table></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDV-wrji9YCjLABOqZ-U1BTyZ9ks2OHrPFebJLmaVFt8wyXzq3J9hRSYjHwjLl8HICjPn8mj63KOeHRs6OV9fa73-ZUHyuES-QJy2T9qDDkZ-ayJSSeu5UjtTtn6jlPnGl8pnbYXrwRIcC2g0mlC4-P5tQTXga2ncba1S7R9LMvJKsomU-hgGoRnNE/s1000/DSC_1398.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1000" data-original-width="667" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDV-wrji9YCjLABOqZ-U1BTyZ9ks2OHrPFebJLmaVFt8wyXzq3J9hRSYjHwjLl8HICjPn8mj63KOeHRs6OV9fa73-ZUHyuES-QJy2T9qDDkZ-ayJSSeu5UjtTtn6jlPnGl8pnbYXrwRIcC2g0mlC4-P5tQTXga2ncba1S7R9LMvJKsomU-hgGoRnNE/w266-h400/DSC_1398.jpg" width="266" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Lower Arthur River<br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><div style="text-align: justify;">Once again sleep was interrupted by snoring; the offender was sleeping directly above Terri, who kept poking his bed with her hiking pole to wake him up when his snoring got too loud before finally decamping to the common room to try to catch some uninterrupted shuteye. We were off by 6:40, barrelling down the path, worried about making our boat connection at 12:30. As it turned out, we were in plenty of time, and we had splendid views all morning of waterfalls, pools in the river, and abundant birdlife. We swam at Giants Gate and then made it to Sandfly Point by 11:15 (it failed to live up to its monicker, to our great delight). We had completed 54 km over three days (and an hour on the first day), and we felt pretty good about it. We lounged on the dock, resting our feet and watching scaups and passing fishermen in sea kayaks, until a speedboat appeared to whisk us to the "town" of Milford Sound. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">We had gotten a cruise of Milford Sound included in the price of our package of transfers, and it was a glorious day for it. There were hardly any tourists around other than us, and the big cruise boat we were on only had a dozen or so other punters aboard. We were hoping to spot Fiordland crested penguins, but we struck out (they had been spotted that morning, but were out at sea fishing when we sailed past). There were, however, plentiful bottlenosed dolphins and a handful of seals, along with no end of spectacular waterfalls, hanging valleys and snow-capped peaks. We returned to the ferry terminal, went for a brief stroll around to get some more views of the sound, then caught our bus and snoozed our way back to Te Anau and the familiar confines of the Parkland, where we broke with routine by opting for Thai takeaway (since the Indian restaurant was closed due to a lack of customers).</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTTquQl8lvAF9mst3RPfe1vJ1YDeLQg0ZLvwqx-DriMBFTRPpS_TeTwz1stGnyF7UCmeHrHLFfTpraCw_AIXgicPVSKShcCUM2qj8l9EhIG6QBqOph83xmJHXcLQKB7Jz9CMAXXSoRp6tV8U7Xx7_tlY852bEktQuYhJ7pJMGJ7WVVlJcdFOV_pR_t/s1000/DSC_1403.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1000" data-original-width="667" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTTquQl8lvAF9mst3RPfe1vJ1YDeLQg0ZLvwqx-DriMBFTRPpS_TeTwz1stGnyF7UCmeHrHLFfTpraCw_AIXgicPVSKShcCUM2qj8l9EhIG6QBqOph83xmJHXcLQKB7Jz9CMAXXSoRp6tV8U7Xx7_tlY852bEktQuYhJ7pJMGJ7WVVlJcdFOV_pR_t/w266-h400/DSC_1403.jpg" width="266" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">So close to the goal!<br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table></div><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjziL7H6H_5SKhp4POibqmCaDnhAgzq94_liPt2v3vKiV1jYU273CAkXRt3SkcpC9_WoOr5yVoLkpUOlukvqNj5lnem9WfdQGnWE3-v-v9aTL_FBhxovKBMt1cC9XcCIkK23qBSWbq_vt5Bc4TC6qJdKJ10JD6HS1RM0DVlixH8nvLu46eBoGXGhA7e/s1000/DSC_1413.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="667" data-original-width="1000" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjziL7H6H_5SKhp4POibqmCaDnhAgzq94_liPt2v3vKiV1jYU273CAkXRt3SkcpC9_WoOr5yVoLkpUOlukvqNj5lnem9WfdQGnWE3-v-v9aTL_FBhxovKBMt1cC9XcCIkK23qBSWbq_vt5Bc4TC6qJdKJ10JD6HS1RM0DVlixH8nvLu46eBoGXGhA7e/w400-h266/DSC_1413.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Old man's beard<br /><br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhexzrkelHdwsI11lfls7RZ81Ttgw7jDl1QAHPWxhRWBBY9DvsH90wiCPq9XiTS9xaUhaUOnunG9mJWMja5RN40k-7ebK4rduqR1EtDv6YQXYPBtM15CxcDVxvw7E9cTTaEYdpJZzlvAvNrAxF6M9ZwoCa5vyScGJ5LLJkLTV1BSYgium9i-UpFuZ7g/s1000/DSC_1422.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="667" data-original-width="1000" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhexzrkelHdwsI11lfls7RZ81Ttgw7jDl1QAHPWxhRWBBY9DvsH90wiCPq9XiTS9xaUhaUOnunG9mJWMja5RN40k-7ebK4rduqR1EtDv6YQXYPBtM15CxcDVxvw7E9cTTaEYdpJZzlvAvNrAxF6M9ZwoCa5vyScGJ5LLJkLTV1BSYgium9i-UpFuZ7g/w400-h266/DSC_1422.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Almost there!<br /></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNqqLVj2WS6EjsicQmW0atj4CmyYJZf7QuA2zfU7V37hw4YFz1vaO0q5GtK2m4lYT6wb9JnF55uu1uTWd9ODhVsiHcuWUiTBtOXUes5Z2lGunIOfwVmbbyUbucoJUhDfWd5cjcYee17NLMb-rSc-e5GsgYj21wtj66_xZNgFOdT93IAL0pYYQjFABc/s1000/DSC_1423.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1000" data-original-width="667" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNqqLVj2WS6EjsicQmW0atj4CmyYJZf7QuA2zfU7V37hw4YFz1vaO0q5GtK2m4lYT6wb9JnF55uu1uTWd9ODhVsiHcuWUiTBtOXUes5Z2lGunIOfwVmbbyUbucoJUhDfWd5cjcYee17NLMb-rSc-e5GsgYj21wtj66_xZNgFOdT93IAL0pYYQjFABc/w266-h400/DSC_1423.jpg" width="266" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Another perfect waterfall<br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzYgCoHteznxyQ3sLvaIQ2ZFoXdj0gFaMti-X6wws5xVo3Xa16IxQ59jWOr3prNv2tOtRsnda7rzqSBwP04xs5N3t22B5H09n6l_16baj4HR_8JwhQcoArWpB1WWqDzkQk4krv6TM7kWIviypapNscUamgRZ9osG7H0xbiodBQ4ymLZdq8fHqIZte2/s1000/DSC_1439.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="667" data-original-width="1000" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzYgCoHteznxyQ3sLvaIQ2ZFoXdj0gFaMti-X6wws5xVo3Xa16IxQ59jWOr3prNv2tOtRsnda7rzqSBwP04xs5N3t22B5H09n6l_16baj4HR_8JwhQcoArWpB1WWqDzkQk4krv6TM7kWIviypapNscUamgRZ9osG7H0xbiodBQ4ymLZdq8fHqIZte2/w400-h266/DSC_1439.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Your humble correspondent, Milford Sound<br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixEIm9rKONVGOjorFFZqkYnHxKDizPTl5sOB7g362ZfFCJXUNkujg-aVmm1mTCg-ONprZU_T6vGdwejBN07EXzpZFD-D21MtqOJPMSQGgJIQ66-0jPMSBtBbMKzfKche5hJF1hlxICFQQShgobr0-_R4z_tuv1RfJ74ZZoUEo2XIhCASvbIIhFSlI1/s1000/DSC_1459.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1000" data-original-width="667" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixEIm9rKONVGOjorFFZqkYnHxKDizPTl5sOB7g362ZfFCJXUNkujg-aVmm1mTCg-ONprZU_T6vGdwejBN07EXzpZFD-D21MtqOJPMSQGgJIQ66-0jPMSBtBbMKzfKche5hJF1hlxICFQQShgobr0-_R4z_tuv1RfJ74ZZoUEo2XIhCASvbIIhFSlI1/w266-h400/DSC_1459.jpg" width="266" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Yet another spectacular Milford Sound waterfall<br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtE6Hl45P_l2NhWuRMrojjLDAaYONYBZ95FyJlAhGw7Yd0s29dVC39Pjn9lURVywgsdHGsbKwnFoIb1XpFym-n2LSwAZat2ILnkRvQVMaDwdwJiZEs4J7r9xOKxmguG-b_6Nso2jZi8w9VJ5_nCnVgu3VEDRAnl7RQnW5-Ckv1-0ncuOYyO-9gw6nR/s1000/DSC_1478.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="667" data-original-width="1000" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtE6Hl45P_l2NhWuRMrojjLDAaYONYBZ95FyJlAhGw7Yd0s29dVC39Pjn9lURVywgsdHGsbKwnFoIb1XpFym-n2LSwAZat2ILnkRvQVMaDwdwJiZEs4J7r9xOKxmguG-b_6Nso2jZi8w9VJ5_nCnVgu3VEDRAnl7RQnW5-Ckv1-0ncuOYyO-9gw6nR/w400-h266/DSC_1478.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Pod of dolphins, Milford Sound<br /></td></tr></tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvIgHQ8KVGrnwo3AZje9d9BY1nqs6Te3aMYZJpMzqee6j6qOlQFaUCg6L2puoCnHM4JJPN5XWik42Q78rLTghuT3aW_Xn8cEjWM6QUYeaneNYBl3pMj1sbxqC3rhqjOKqssCCjcSAKlP6F0G7ZJ_h0INjAkfs9QZmZ-S8GzBYapecNGk32-xS7EUmg/s1000/DSC_1499.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="667" data-original-width="1000" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvIgHQ8KVGrnwo3AZje9d9BY1nqs6Te3aMYZJpMzqee6j6qOlQFaUCg6L2puoCnHM4JJPN5XWik42Q78rLTghuT3aW_Xn8cEjWM6QUYeaneNYBl3pMj1sbxqC3rhqjOKqssCCjcSAKlP6F0G7ZJ_h0INjAkfs9QZmZ-S8GzBYapecNGk32-xS7EUmg/w400-h266/DSC_1499.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Bottlenose dolphins, Milford Sound</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgn8vt5eXqM3U-d9UHmxbJimVD53TtEsW46I4fnM-5CBHZqfFU5LjCtjwxqv6R4oNWQDyIpI3hOVIi-IOZuV58kB6tsGIZ0X8pZkME1pBWNQdKbuEABhCbk7UPp1Ewq-bK26xZIxOiE-Tqflt5jyITgGucvIvI7aL-JbSmIBUUy8ISVHLBlyCIpyyRO/s1000/DSC_1511.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="667" data-original-width="1000" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgn8vt5eXqM3U-d9UHmxbJimVD53TtEsW46I4fnM-5CBHZqfFU5LjCtjwxqv6R4oNWQDyIpI3hOVIi-IOZuV58kB6tsGIZ0X8pZkME1pBWNQdKbuEABhCbk7UPp1Ewq-bK26xZIxOiE-Tqflt5jyITgGucvIvI7aL-JbSmIBUUy8ISVHLBlyCIpyyRO/w400-h266/DSC_1511.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Feeling mighty pleased with ourselves</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjz0drByxNmuu_RIKtFI2otZCKF5BIO8aI_I9q4JHcfbeiPfcDwAnsDFYWRqrUOhKXJHlm8PYYh9RGgwajyiU3nR_W7ELanfnkViEf5C07cHe2fJnE-lN-tOHSwkLv4f_IbDsHrxZwL3u3P2jhuJ-ZgN58JTlVsnjvWHOFKRsM_E3hIia8-jEfj3WYg/s1000/DSC_1526.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1000" data-original-width="667" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjz0drByxNmuu_RIKtFI2otZCKF5BIO8aI_I9q4JHcfbeiPfcDwAnsDFYWRqrUOhKXJHlm8PYYh9RGgwajyiU3nR_W7ELanfnkViEf5C07cHe2fJnE-lN-tOHSwkLv4f_IbDsHrxZwL3u3P2jhuJ-ZgN58JTlVsnjvWHOFKRsM_E3hIia8-jEfj3WYg/w266-h400/DSC_1526.jpg" width="266" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">One of the numerous waterfalls lining Milford Sound</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzjL6Psc5s0tytrMy7uVHJyObO4RhkZP7eehxTejr7cJQKnA9Om4NtzBPtF4auqeFQvzSB912zeG4BcTjoUDTqOY58_eMDu444TkNDwy_P9KUluJfV28eLDrui0M7yJPAKPEP9QQj1CZg7pC-ysXW6pgo553FvE9dpgO2GaDn4i8gbrpR_0hd9Nb5d/s1000/DSC_1540.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="667" data-original-width="1000" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzjL6Psc5s0tytrMy7uVHJyObO4RhkZP7eehxTejr7cJQKnA9Om4NtzBPtF4auqeFQvzSB912zeG4BcTjoUDTqOY58_eMDu444TkNDwy_P9KUluJfV28eLDrui0M7yJPAKPEP9QQj1CZg7pC-ysXW6pgo553FvE9dpgO2GaDn4i8gbrpR_0hd9Nb5d/w400-h266/DSC_1540.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Milford Sound<br /><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div></td></tr></tbody></table><div style="text-align: justify;">We had a very, very lazy day off the next day in Te Anau. We were weary after back-to-back treks, and were not terribly productive with our time. We did manage to get out to restock on provisions, but mostly we lounged about on the back lawn of the Parklands Motel, sleepy. As we headed to bed, my right eyelid suddenly swelled to alarming proportions.</div></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmBBOPHC5bR3r32553Jfhzg35sWHet1ehOPXB43D9ycgnUizLMla8UqWUA166pZDDQaePdFYHCkhyftZG9VA8ybUz-p3jgHMpiS87DQaNmo9JBcvB6zVUM9yq5pJ37DKzBPaDrkg2NYXEBinypkbdW24-I5JZNyNdPsAk3-aWxqdqMKCe87wwniK7f/s1000/DSC_1541.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1000" data-original-width="667" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmBBOPHC5bR3r32553Jfhzg35sWHet1ehOPXB43D9ycgnUizLMla8UqWUA166pZDDQaePdFYHCkhyftZG9VA8ybUz-p3jgHMpiS87DQaNmo9JBcvB6zVUM9yq5pJ37DKzBPaDrkg2NYXEBinypkbdW24-I5JZNyNdPsAk3-aWxqdqMKCe87wwniK7f/w266-h400/DSC_1541.jpg" width="266" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Earland Falls<br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><div style="text-align: justify;">The next morning I ran around the corner to a doctor's office to see if my eye was a serious problem. The doctor confessed himself puzzled as to the cause of the infection, but prescribed some antibiotics, and for good measure diagnosed a strange lump on my forehad as a harmless but unsightly seborrheic keratoma. We rolled out of town around 11:30, headed towards the Divide, most of the way back to Milford Sound. This is one end of the Routeburn Track, and we had decided to avoid expensive transfers by doing the Routeburn as an out-and-back hike, skipping the far end and staying two nights at the MacKenzie Lake hut. This would save some 380 kilometres of driving around the mountains from the far end of the track back to the Divide. We parked our van in the carpark, donned our backpacks and set off uphill around 1:15 from a starting elevation of 530 metres above sea level. It was a steady, moderate climb uphill to Key Summit (a possible sidetrip that we took a pass on), followed by a downhill to the Lake Howden junction at an elevation of 683 m, where the Caples and Greenstone Tracks branch off from the Routeburn. From there we had a very gentle climb past pretty Earland Falls, through some scenic forest (noticeably less mossy and wet than the Milford forests) up to an elevation of 1020 m before a short, steep drop down to Lake MacKenzie (891 m) and the welcome sight of our hut by 4:50 pm. We had set out under cloudy skies and passed through some patches of drizzle, but it had stopped again by the time we got to the hut.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcNKQ254_PpR__t5VBTf1LLlywNz9bW7ZoToGB7W-_doAFaQ2wK_BpRih8ZYpKGUHwOqyNIIBlFw6mZykxbj0mAa_Juyna1fc7Llk7Dl6xgxZ0KChinI1IKhEZB2EJTAH7wAWfKz5-gcDY3C_g7PItvf1SUOBw29ac7Q2IVIFdX7uuaesBTY6Mw6Vv/s1000/DSC_1548.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="667" data-original-width="1000" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcNKQ254_PpR__t5VBTf1LLlywNz9bW7ZoToGB7W-_doAFaQ2wK_BpRih8ZYpKGUHwOqyNIIBlFw6mZykxbj0mAa_Juyna1fc7Llk7Dl6xgxZ0KChinI1IKhEZB2EJTAH7wAWfKz5-gcDY3C_g7PItvf1SUOBw29ac7Q2IVIFdX7uuaesBTY6Mw6Vv/w400-h266/DSC_1548.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Enchanted forest above Lake MacKenzie Hut<br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh39_-2MWcISCua9Rica0w5qYPW7Re4I3p_4f9OZ8_7z5DbvinfEct6ODozuSnwtwCeEnZRLS1liZKnDkPr9iUmYMSh59Ast8D4z-x7jMXB3gdVOCh2RfEGQ24vVkk5VvwTSKJdg7O3KlPEC_I6Nck9kFJSy28MrQ4IJN-cR8ifb-Q0mtzC6GOE6-yS/s1000/DSC_1555.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="667" data-original-width="1000" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh39_-2MWcISCua9Rica0w5qYPW7Re4I3p_4f9OZ8_7z5DbvinfEct6ODozuSnwtwCeEnZRLS1liZKnDkPr9iUmYMSh59Ast8D4z-x7jMXB3gdVOCh2RfEGQ24vVkk5VvwTSKJdg7O3KlPEC_I6Nck9kFJSy28MrQ4IJN-cR8ifb-Q0mtzC6GOE6-yS/w400-h266/DSC_1555.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Lake MacKenzie<br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><div style="text-align: justify;">We celebrated with our customary grilled cheese sandwiches (fortified with chunks of ham) before heading out for a swim. The water was less bracing than we had anticipated, and it was actually pleasant to swim around for a few minutes before clambering out to towel off. We fried up pork steaks and sweet potatoes for dinner before an entertaining but slightly long-winded hut talk by Murray, a Cockney immigrant to NZ who is a bit of a legendary figure in the world of DOC huts. He talked about the revival of bird life along the Routeburn since the start of a program of intensive trapping of invasive predators nearly 20 years ago. The Routeburn is one of the few places in the South Island where the mohua (yellowhead) is still seen in the wild, and their numbers have increased manyfold since the trapping began. It was pouring rain by now, and we were glad to be under a solid roof for the night.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5dvzrBdafFdjrwcp8d22wvCgGDAP1dhoLJyVNff97CRtC2Z0Bh4xbeufGvnbvkPCT6gKBAyrH72NvOIqS_iE1jTNIW4zu9Jt9Rp3-YO-I0_J6Kz5RwzmirX6zuptWvY5IBJjhIcvraEGh1a-yCEODmGYd1mRJ_QDdRmxODGvXjsUmE70sRgi4VG0a/s1000/DSC_1558.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="667" data-original-width="1000" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5dvzrBdafFdjrwcp8d22wvCgGDAP1dhoLJyVNff97CRtC2Z0Bh4xbeufGvnbvkPCT6gKBAyrH72NvOIqS_iE1jTNIW4zu9Jt9Rp3-YO-I0_J6Kz5RwzmirX6zuptWvY5IBJjhIcvraEGh1a-yCEODmGYd1mRJ_QDdRmxODGvXjsUmE70sRgi4VG0a/w400-h266/DSC_1558.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">High up above Lake MacKenzie<br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8AbiLIkz7x_TBn5h1IaDQt8OF-CqAe7dDAM0op8QQlrq1Vtu1Xv7VxwI2QG9LIGBSxyzaq8lelIOLwdoTl4GiyiF1A_Wn6nWrrH5PRIJroJl7LptpbNXChmtXLPOAjqfluGBZ4aWkQYgt5IIdRy9aGZilK-eNqIl7mZdjmtMcWTRyNtPvfiuGBHFA/s1000/DSC_1566.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="667" data-original-width="1000" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8AbiLIkz7x_TBn5h1IaDQt8OF-CqAe7dDAM0op8QQlrq1Vtu1Xv7VxwI2QG9LIGBSxyzaq8lelIOLwdoTl4GiyiF1A_Wn6nWrrH5PRIJroJl7LptpbNXChmtXLPOAjqfluGBZ4aWkQYgt5IIdRy9aGZilK-eNqIl7mZdjmtMcWTRyNtPvfiuGBHFA/w400-h266/DSC_1566.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Heading out for a long daytrip<br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><div style="text-align: justify;">Unlike almost everyone else at the hut, the next morning Terri and I were able to leave our packs and set off with only light daypacks, as we would be staying a second night at Lake MacKenzie. We awoke to clear skies after the night's downpours, and we were the first walkers out of the hut. It was a steep climb up and around the lake to a point where we could look along the Hollyford Valley from high above. The air was preternaturally clear and we could see along the Hollyford to the waters of Lake McKerrow and even to the ocean beyond near Martins Bay. Through our binoculars we could clearly make out individual white-capped waves breaking just offshore, even though we were nearly 40 km away as the crow flies. We were thinking about hiking along the Hollyford Track next, so we spent a bit of time scouting it out from our elevated vantage point before continuing along our own track. The Darran Mountains soared above us on the opposite side of the Hollyford, looking steep and forbidding (this was where Edmund Hillary came to test his skills and his equipment in some winter climbs before setting off for Everest).</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgACJDbtLTkmNdUKbkJl3yYLK6zLd4FQBCdktB3_9YHdCLetrWCGlLXe8Ol1rhny1M-shZo7T3FFO6733R2Bhf1foi3S8ZWH0XDcTFQ2Ij2zXjET4FG7deheCyI_MpWMZzrxzO3-gCb4jCH69yfHbBQP39ozrZcPuz_FN1RH2iANUzxcdXTXWBwBVMJ/s1000/DSC_1570.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="667" data-original-width="1000" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgACJDbtLTkmNdUKbkJl3yYLK6zLd4FQBCdktB3_9YHdCLetrWCGlLXe8Ol1rhny1M-shZo7T3FFO6733R2Bhf1foi3S8ZWH0XDcTFQ2Ij2zXjET4FG7deheCyI_MpWMZzrxzO3-gCb4jCH69yfHbBQP39ozrZcPuz_FN1RH2iANUzxcdXTXWBwBVMJ/w400-h266/DSC_1570.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Some glorious sunshine on the second morning<br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1K8_q_luouXpwVPwNfQo_lvQM0PMsVLilusei5qWWGMWqSDwcxVd3PMns9WU3lD7RrGNEdLP5HD3keEZAhKWx5jtArq-OB4sFoGvZ1Chp8aJFWADe9o_XORqLgs1LyKe5HU-POBaSuRsJPdQHm5v2R9mjn3IHnSJ1v5dwk78czPW6cbhN1rsac-p_/s1000/DSC_1575.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="667" data-original-width="1000" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1K8_q_luouXpwVPwNfQo_lvQM0PMsVLilusei5qWWGMWqSDwcxVd3PMns9WU3lD7RrGNEdLP5HD3keEZAhKWx5jtArq-OB4sFoGvZ1Chp8aJFWADe9o_XORqLgs1LyKe5HU-POBaSuRsJPdQHm5v2R9mjn3IHnSJ1v5dwk78czPW6cbhN1rsac-p_/w400-h266/DSC_1575.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Some snow and ice in the Darran Mountains<br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><div style="text-align: justify;">Our route contoured along at about 1000 metres above sea level, high above the Hollyford River beneath us. After a couple of hours of walking, we gained elevation and popped over Harris Saddle to a shelter overlooking the blue waters of Lake Harris. This is the high point of the Routeburn, but we had time and weren't carrying any weight, so we decided to continue onwards around the lake after fortifying ourselves with lunch at the shelter. The views around the lake and upwards towards various Southern Alps peaks were stunning, and the path itself was dramatic, perched high above the lake on a ledge carved out of steep rock. We eventually dropped down into a broad plateau beside the Routeburn River and meandered along until we reached a vantage point just above Routeburn Falls Hut. This was our turnaround point, so we gobbled down the rest of our trail snacks and set off back the way we had come. It had taken us 4 hours to reach this point, with plenty of stops for photography, food and sightseeing.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiByVH1J3kq-mEqBt1vJ1VN5n545talKbWFppNmmZXGApVH1u1NxV8VrdsiKRt48vYg3vgKXUAet3LgvXUQH42qNHcGw6mNk8SjFppE-qAqqncWCTXquWJmsdhi5z661yv9c7wM6k5Jgfg4J4J8adlYA0P23h2tcj5WThjz2jRdmA7BHhzLUdw02K8z/s1000/DSC_1582.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="667" data-original-width="1000" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiByVH1J3kq-mEqBt1vJ1VN5n545talKbWFppNmmZXGApVH1u1NxV8VrdsiKRt48vYg3vgKXUAet3LgvXUQH42qNHcGw6mNk8SjFppE-qAqqncWCTXquWJmsdhi5z661yv9c7wM6k5Jgfg4J4J8adlYA0P23h2tcj5WThjz2jRdmA7BHhzLUdw02K8z/w400-h266/DSC_1582.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Terri on the narrow ledge around Lake Harris<br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><div style="text-align: justify;">Our return journey took 3 hours and 20 minutes as we knew the route and spent less time sightseeing, particularly as the skies were clouding over and we were concerned that it might rain on us. We made it back dry and also quite pleased as we spotted a rock wren, a hard-to-see and rather reclusive native bird, building a nest right beside the track. He sat there posing obligingly for the camera for several minutes before resuming his construction activities. That evening we cooked up bacon and added it to a macaroni and cheese packaged dinner, giving our hungry bodies plenty of calories, fat and protein. We were excused from listening to a second successive hut talk that evening, but we had a number of interesting conversations with our fellow trekkers.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4Av19G6KnYNjg65g1pea_96HcrCZ_X2lCD0W_tWNIjO4InIkhrjvxbsldb3gr_VisTMFkycV2Z3Qq8QTxeu9759n78nA_IYuLpayokwFeWRd868dV7MjzwKA9JnsLlmldrzF_3qyO-c5FoPsVEJZpKaL-nVL-91xoP3BGWonc6EYwxTnjHg940EQ1/s1000/DSC_1589.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="667" data-original-width="1000" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4Av19G6KnYNjg65g1pea_96HcrCZ_X2lCD0W_tWNIjO4InIkhrjvxbsldb3gr_VisTMFkycV2Z3Qq8QTxeu9759n78nA_IYuLpayokwFeWRd868dV7MjzwKA9JnsLlmldrzF_3qyO-c5FoPsVEJZpKaL-nVL-91xoP3BGWonc6EYwxTnjHg940EQ1/w400-h266/DSC_1589.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Another unknown beauty<br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgm9CgeOAb3DpNQBIYXFZX_iqOk9X12p5hcrUDvf2dUg4Judm5CBLktl2jYZnk0mx2I2FdmDMNj_jQ6Xzq15U5Kcm8_F7jDG4WyX595PxM0g2P-hiK9GnRV3CkMODPuQYE4Q9doscrcx5DMvzY0Ay44hBDVCPWpaBbhp0S8_aCLr-Ovm32MjMPdxj9s/s1000/DSC_1593.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="667" data-original-width="1000" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgm9CgeOAb3DpNQBIYXFZX_iqOk9X12p5hcrUDvf2dUg4Judm5CBLktl2jYZnk0mx2I2FdmDMNj_jQ6Xzq15U5Kcm8_F7jDG4WyX595PxM0g2P-hiK9GnRV3CkMODPuQYE4Q9doscrcx5DMvzY0Ay44hBDVCPWpaBbhp0S8_aCLr-Ovm32MjMPdxj9s/w400-h266/DSC_1593.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Lake Wilson, I think<br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-dgif17hcfVU3q54IrAKTqdqo-wwV3Jnr94HEU0GO6HS_ZZnyiZ00VsDEreiHRH5IDbAW5i0kjSM93L8-Qoa-jH0U3NQM-vrJtQu_S2ZMkDaCvStVrKsWkt4mu8AbBTq2FB4Z3b1ipxpbLPrNcNnQxQb_lC56_gnMvizWjUrzsZnNlAE37NziOjR8/s1000/DSC_1601.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="670" data-original-width="1000" height="268" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-dgif17hcfVU3q54IrAKTqdqo-wwV3Jnr94HEU0GO6HS_ZZnyiZ00VsDEreiHRH5IDbAW5i0kjSM93L8-Qoa-jH0U3NQM-vrJtQu_S2ZMkDaCvStVrKsWkt4mu8AbBTq2FB4Z3b1ipxpbLPrNcNnQxQb_lC56_gnMvizWjUrzsZnNlAE37NziOjR8/w400-h268/DSC_1601.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A rock wren, an elusive native species<br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2K-IFxZarnBwaxCvl2bl9usQFMTHyMcb2dJ5pCOfXlMs2PgGJKq5lXzotiUkpN7yYZx2c6tP-zWyY0rVittpSuaP1g9wUSsOPRpI-32Sab-QiNdCBEGkaWGh4UVzZEIuyrfJXlqGp04ui58SSvnZZubDgWrQ9AY0qBIcDge7HSQIR5uDOIiOS9GwC/s1000/DSC_1603.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="667" data-original-width="1000" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2K-IFxZarnBwaxCvl2bl9usQFMTHyMcb2dJ5pCOfXlMs2PgGJKq5lXzotiUkpN7yYZx2c6tP-zWyY0rVittpSuaP1g9wUSsOPRpI-32Sab-QiNdCBEGkaWGh4UVzZEIuyrfJXlqGp04ui58SSvnZZubDgWrQ9AY0qBIcDge7HSQIR5uDOIiOS9GwC/w400-h266/DSC_1603.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Something a bit like an edelweiss<br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><div style="text-align: justify;">Our final morning of the Routeburn Track saw us cook up a hearty pancake breakfast before packing up and retracing our steps back to the Divide, past Earnshaw Falls and Lake Howden and the Key Summit junction. We were back at the car in only 3 hours and 20 minutes, chatting along the way with Jo, an interesting teacher from Christchurch and admiring the profusion of tiny riflemen flitting about in the bush. Once back at the car we headed out to scout the Hollyford road (completely rebuilt and repaired after gargantuan floods in 2020), hiking out to pretty Humboldt Falls before driving partway back to Te Anau to stay at Cascade Creek DOC campsite. In ordinary years, this campsite is packed, with some 130 numbered campsites; that night we were one of only 4 vehicles there. We spent time chatting with a friendly DOC worker who came to check our DOC camping pass; he told us that a huge storm was headed in the following day and that the hikers on the Routeburn might be evacuated. We spotted a giant eel lurking in the pristine waters of the river running through the campsite, along with a number of small freshwater crayfish. There were white-breasted terns beating their way along the river, while kakas and keas called and flitted through the forest canopy. It was an idyllic spot to relax after three consecutive treks, although it looked as though our planned several days of lounging were going to be curtailed by the weather.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5tAh2LFV9x2e5DBACB6xTGPEp2W5bHGyZK0XcWpWgeM31OWZwYvpw-YhsxG5G3gscLEplkxEix-q0GMKuAfeOUdISU7hT3DcR27JDZpsiphnMB7FUNVKBi_al6_9hEVVwXgcGdKUZex5b1dsql0FZ-g3FoG2-lwnfZgiUDsqsSS8xFoxzIbF8AY7s/s1000/DSC_1609.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="667" data-original-width="1000" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5tAh2LFV9x2e5DBACB6xTGPEp2W5bHGyZK0XcWpWgeM31OWZwYvpw-YhsxG5G3gscLEplkxEix-q0GMKuAfeOUdISU7hT3DcR27JDZpsiphnMB7FUNVKBi_al6_9hEVVwXgcGdKUZex5b1dsql0FZ-g3FoG2-lwnfZgiUDsqsSS8xFoxzIbF8AY7s/w400-h266/DSC_1609.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">More floral finery</td></tr></tbody></table><div style="text-align: justify;">We awoke to grey skies and a confirmation that trekkers were being evacuated that day from the Routeburn, so we packed up and headed back to Te Anau where we splurged on an indoor room at the Parklands to avoid being cooped up in our awning tent and van for what promised to be a two-day storm. It was nice to have a bit of everyday luxury to recover after what had been an intense two weeks!</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">All three of these treks were fabulous, and provided some tremendous views, good exercise and a fun atmosphere with other trekkers in the huts. My favourite might well have been the Kepler since it involved the least transport and had so many dramatic views all the way around the circuit. The Milford is by far the most famous of the three and lived up to its billing as one of the most beautiful treks in the world, although it was also by far the most expensive because of the obligatory transport connections at both ends. The Routeburn had very pretty scenery and expansive views of the Darran and parts of the Southern Alps, but it's much shorter and has far more annoying transport connections unless you do what we did. Another option, done by several groups we met, is to walk the Routeburn one way, and then return to near your starting point by following the Greenstone or the Caples Track back. This makes it a 6 or 7-day expedition and you still have an annoying 25-km gap to fill in by hitchhiking, stashing a second car (or a bicycle) ahead of time or taking a local shuttle. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Overall I think all three tracks are worth walking, although I actually found the Rees-Dart Track, which we walked a few weeks later, to be an even more dramatic and fun walk. If I had to choose one track to walk, I would take the Milford if I could get a reservation, but otherwise the Kepler. We were both really glad that we were able to extract at least one positive thing from the Covid-19 pandemic and travel restrictions by doing these hikes that are often impossible to arrange at such short notice and so close to each other in time. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">I should note in closing that we did eventually return to the Routeburn a few weeks later for a quick day hike from the eastern end up to Routeburn Falls Hut, allowing us to fill in the blank on the map that we had left by our choice of hiking route earlier. It felt good, providing closure to our Routeburn adventure!</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLQn214AWQLMSEQvDWamsR7UURHjkw44Z74nyzFdkQy2-eMktmPZGuSLTheK8M-SHyBzTLb8dSLdxDkqPvR0ODQJQKXLxX95W320T_SEn_Kj7u6qTlqyQmua8itrZDbO8bUBlpV5s65ZWAOTUl1qB8hPwLc_C_9Y1B8ypTRLpHUpT_dUdC9sJSgfyh/s1000/DSC_1617.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1000" data-original-width="667" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLQn214AWQLMSEQvDWamsR7UURHjkw44Z74nyzFdkQy2-eMktmPZGuSLTheK8M-SHyBzTLb8dSLdxDkqPvR0ODQJQKXLxX95W320T_SEn_Kj7u6qTlqyQmua8itrZDbO8bUBlpV5s65ZWAOTUl1qB8hPwLc_C_9Y1B8ypTRLpHUpT_dUdC9sJSgfyh/w266-h400/DSC_1617.jpg" width="266" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Almost back at the Divide<br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table></div><br /><p><br /></p></div></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-635211973012255844.post-47250679632996616342022-02-10T00:07:00.004-08:002022-08-16T05:57:32.207-07:00Ambling Through New Zealand's North Island (September-November 2021)<!--Google tag (gtag.js)-->
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<p> </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-CA" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;"></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-CA" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;"></span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEi-U1eqsQNREcWafxR-qDTplOEjbEzjSIKMIA_BFckILtO8GuLDJvZWG8QmrRmnWvzKOTz2zzixdnLN8yK_SR23id9YGLIoaraRECwDWKHNAOcbX8GOy705r460ywVZapKwFpHaazuBRYO22hgdAgd0Lj5HFPa4PcQpEtjBjsREuDIpHY5TtOboLgGQ=s1000" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="667" data-original-width="1000" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEi-U1eqsQNREcWafxR-qDTplOEjbEzjSIKMIA_BFckILtO8GuLDJvZWG8QmrRmnWvzKOTz2zzixdnLN8yK_SR23id9YGLIoaraRECwDWKHNAOcbX8GOy705r460ywVZapKwFpHaazuBRYO22hgdAgd0Lj5HFPa4PcQpEtjBjsREuDIpHY5TtOboLgGQ=w640-h426" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A coastal hike near Opotiki<br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-CA" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;">Greymouth, New Zealand<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-CA" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;">It’s a prodigiously rainy and windy day, as a
huge rainstorm batters the west coast of New Zealand’s South Island. Terri and I are
huddling indoors at a welcome refuge at Duke's Hostel, a venerable backpacker's joint in Greymouth. It’s a good day to write a blog post, and a good day to be under a solid roof.</span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiKWxrjEDNglhqm9UH78o0UnUcH-mbf2Sy_FNf1aVWeyHG-F4AY_8fbMfwvprt6MY4fBzMpuiICU6zjMaQtyDmezFB-3j36LcyOM6cqIIOVTG96ibv0X4Sq07f4V9akmrMX04gbfj7mIbpjQsSLef59zxMzOtbAQwa9geWDUQMH3FLjqThfA7-h-Cpm=s1000" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="518" data-original-width="1000" height="208" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiKWxrjEDNglhqm9UH78o0UnUcH-mbf2Sy_FNf1aVWeyHG-F4AY_8fbMfwvprt6MY4fBzMpuiICU6zjMaQtyDmezFB-3j36LcyOM6cqIIOVTG96ibv0X4Sq07f4V9akmrMX04gbfj7mIbpjQsSLef59zxMzOtbAQwa9geWDUQMH3FLjqThfA7-h-Cpm=w400-h208" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">One of the maps that Terri created for my new book during MIQ<br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><span style="text-align: justify;">It’s time to catch up on our travels. When last
I wrote, I reported on <a href="https://graydonstravels.blogspot.com/2021/10/trotting-around-turkey-retrospective.html" target="_blank">our fun three-week jaunt through Turkey back in August, 2021</a>. We then flew to Auckland, via lots of covid-related restrictions and
hoops; there was an anxious ten-minute wait in Istanbul airport while Singapore
Airlines check-in staff had a telephone conversation with New Zealand
Immigration to make sure that I was eligible to fly into the country. We
arrived late on the evening of September 4</span><sup style="text-align: justify;">th</sup><span style="text-align: justify;"> into a ghostly,
almost-deserted airport, got processed and sorted onto our bus, and taken to
the Rydges Hotel, our home for the next two weeks of Managed Isolation and
Quarantine (MIQ).</span>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEik4-uoAAL9WIcxJMgW78VILZ-qa-KR_kVbAF405EYc-TzsM1tXmn2pGPFKFl0PAiRbzJGn8llE3KE0Egs84RgIvQtYIHJ4eA_tfmZtJkVT18OndkY55_vpGVXoraYwN5RNU5uqjaJYBHFrA7Vjz93IcHM9eP7-Vz0lumALaOqKj1XLtkSGFIAe5CJL=s1000" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1000" data-original-width="667" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEik4-uoAAL9WIcxJMgW78VILZ-qa-KR_kVbAF405EYc-TzsM1tXmn2pGPFKFl0PAiRbzJGn8llE3KE0Egs84RgIvQtYIHJ4eA_tfmZtJkVT18OndkY55_vpGVXoraYwN5RNU5uqjaJYBHFrA7Vjz93IcHM9eP7-Vz0lumALaOqKj1XLtkSGFIAe5CJL=w266-h400" width="266" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Some of Terri's grandkids<br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-CA" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;">Those two weeks passed surprisingly pleasantly.
We had a room on the eighth floor, with a view towards Auckland’s Sky Tower,
two enormous king-sized beds and three delicious meals a day delivered to the
room. We were confined indoors except for occasional “exercise” sessions on a
rooftop terrace or along the ramp leading to the underground parking garage; we
weren’t allowed to do anything that might result in us breathing heavily, so
the word “exercise” didn’t seem to have its usual meaning. The weather was
relentlessly cold and rainy, so we weren’t itching to be outdoors, and we
amused ourselves by watching US Open tennis, reading and (in the case of Terri)
working on the hand-drawn maps for my next book, <a href="https://silkroadride.blogspot.com/" target="_blank">about my Silk Road cycling ride</a>.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-CA" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;">After two weeks, we were certified as
disease-free and ready to be released into the community. While we were in
Turkey, New Zealand had had its first serious covid outbreak in over a year,
and so Auckland, the epicentre, was under a partial lockdown. As a result the
North Island was cut in two, and travel from north to south through Auckland
was impossible. We had planned to wait out the chilly months of September and
October somewhere in the north, but instead we picked up Edmund the Elgrand
(our third camping vehicle, after our beloved Stanley and much-used Douglas) at
Terri’s daughter’s farm on the northern outskirts of Auckland, spent a hurried
couple of hours visiting, and then fled south to the liberty of Hamilton. We
spent a week there at the house of Terri’s good friends Ross and Debbie, taking
care of administrative steps like getting the van’s Warrant of Fitness renewed,
getting our first shots of the Pfizer vaccine (we had not been eligible for
vaccinations in Indonesia), buying me a second-hand bicycle, and obtaining a
solar panel and second-hand storage battery to run our fridge/freezer.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-CA" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;"></span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEioa6nvh6El9UMP3KR71tms72Q9_kRyokNYK2bl8sBHB9khpVbN2tsRYpd5ndTRRm-HSRsSmol3dcvV6SrImQF1P1EMAV2rt8Waodr906jPJzKf51MPlqK07zApf4GItL6LadyVa-Qv6WsDOiKRBcf5e4gtrz4MA1bMtMkPCX-aLJGsxJdALY7Lsx06=s1000" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="667" data-original-width="1000" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEioa6nvh6El9UMP3KR71tms72Q9_kRyokNYK2bl8sBHB9khpVbN2tsRYpd5ndTRRm-HSRsSmol3dcvV6SrImQF1P1EMAV2rt8Waodr906jPJzKf51MPlqK07zApf4GItL6LadyVa-Qv6WsDOiKRBcf5e4gtrz4MA1bMtMkPCX-aLJGsxJdALY7Lsx06=w400-h266" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Indiana with the first physical copy of my book that I'd held <br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-CA" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;"></span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEj0NeuMcAZ-fTkepEEdKb8Tg4O6LXEmy6qfK9X5aLNlmZYwhxBZAcYdPg618DqTQWjzVAEDGyOkkkMMsk93pesLVi6FQxDUn9Em2z-cFZhteGRDz6rMHFbAWYLuKTQtebfP__NH_DC43tX71g7MXI3dezX-b2iiqDNbYUzgdbB6RbUROf59jR-uJivH=s1000" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="667" data-original-width="1000" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEj0NeuMcAZ-fTkepEEdKb8Tg4O6LXEmy6qfK9X5aLNlmZYwhxBZAcYdPg618DqTQWjzVAEDGyOkkkMMsk93pesLVi6FQxDUn9Em2z-cFZhteGRDz6rMHFbAWYLuKTQtebfP__NH_DC43tX71g7MXI3dezX-b2iiqDNbYUzgdbB6RbUROf59jR-uJivH=w400-h266" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Another delicious dinner with Lilian and John<br /><br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgAU7xF52Usax_uS-pNiJhVgEOuayUumk6rKep05rv5IWkHO0JE9X9no-fTdV6Obp2BkTZn6RGKuHQsGmW4QfiqPEvF-dSy6pIdHa_F8-C6klVc-o924fGBKk3PfLXKwCyoja4QWFpQjxUt-37k7PcVr5edYnTd-3J5NXSlBRoSq2L1RlDETixwwQPU=s1000" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="667" data-original-width="1000" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgAU7xF52Usax_uS-pNiJhVgEOuayUumk6rKep05rv5IWkHO0JE9X9no-fTdV6Obp2BkTZn6RGKuHQsGmW4QfiqPEvF-dSy6pIdHa_F8-C6klVc-o924fGBKk3PfLXKwCyoja4QWFpQjxUt-37k7PcVr5edYnTd-3J5NXSlBRoSq2L1RlDETixwwQPU=w400-h266" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Terri with her cousin Phillipa and her family<br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><span style="text-align: justify;">We might have lingered longer in Hamilton, but
covid began to leak out of the Auckland cordon into the Hamilton area, so we
fled further to the Tauranga area where we holed up for almost two weeks with
Lilian and John, inveterate globetrotting friends who had visited us in
Tbilisi. They had a guest apartment where we hid out from more cold and rain,
explored the fabulous variety of fruit trees that filled their property (we
left laden with avocadoes and lemons) and worked on fitting out Edmund for the
road. We bought a roof rack and a luggage box to go on it, had the 175-watt
solar panel attached onto the rack, mounted an awning and tent to hang off the
side of the vehicle, and I even put my physics degree to practical use as I
wired up the battery, the solar controller unit, the solar panel and the
interior electrical outlets. (My initial wiring wasn’t really up to snuff, and
I ended up having to redo it a couple of weeks later, but since then it’s
functioned perfectly, which pleases me immensely.) We also rode our bicycles
around, hiked up Mount Maunganui, did pullup bar workouts in playgrounds
(keeping up the routines we had established in Bali) and had late-afternoon
beers and dinners with Lilian and John, recounting stories from the road. (They
are some of the few travellers I’ve met who have been to far more countries
than I have, and their stories of travels in the 1970s were epic.) Importantly
for further travel, we were also able to get vaccinated (something that we had
not been able to do in Indonesia) with our first dose of Pfizer. We also dropped in on more of Terri's friends and family living in and around Tauranga.</span><div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhZHJwPSW4TFIQNWVTVei1SyJwp7ju3rXmn8G1viqluKybBOd7GXL11vE_SRfyCg2EB3OaTh_s_cV2QhwwuXvLtWtN7fk1Ftkd9U9sm2xJJJnFc1UHeRO629Um3F6_ePgKcmDlEPwXmJEBm3lcTftkRyGsml34iNTpLi6MON9_u-zZPJGmsa6CetB9V=s1000" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="667" data-original-width="1000" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhZHJwPSW4TFIQNWVTVei1SyJwp7ju3rXmn8G1viqluKybBOd7GXL11vE_SRfyCg2EB3OaTh_s_cV2QhwwuXvLtWtN7fk1Ftkd9U9sm2xJJJnFc1UHeRO629Um3F6_ePgKcmDlEPwXmJEBm3lcTftkRyGsml34iNTpLi6MON9_u-zZPJGmsa6CetB9V=w400-h266" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Terri and her cousin Pepper<br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><span style="text-align: justify;">Eventually the van was ready to hit the road, and
we started our stately progress down the east coast of the North Island. We
started with a few nights in Ohope, just to the east of Papamoa. It was my
first experience of “freedom camping”, in which towns designate certain areas
for self-contained vehicles (ones with a toilet and a grey-water container) to
stay for free. The Ohope freedom camps were nothing to write home about, with
lots of vehicles crammed into small spaces, but it was a chance for us to test
out our set-up. We discovered soon that my wiring job wasn’t up to snuff, as I
hadn’t quite gotten the connectors from the solar panels to the roof to
complete the circuit; we discovered this when the car battery stopped working and
I started crawling around the circuit with a voltmeter. Once I had the panel
working, we were back in business. We also discovered that rain is a constant
accompaniment to camping in New Zealand!</span></div><div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgHeGjkxapQDToTFK7Ivx2Jx4u6iJ9k_15Uof_m3nS0Nxe6lEM7dkmo79nHK_Vmbm1ezYCTZ2TwfdhmfkGo8PelPYTiintXFPtQagZDZ-5_kuAeXeqC4P4rw2dyd6l4bYNmumBI6X6VCHn-RTgmrT0tZmuDD0nllt1ui0a76MzIUNBtzIsEinGr-pGx=s1000" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1000" data-original-width="667" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgHeGjkxapQDToTFK7Ivx2Jx4u6iJ9k_15Uof_m3nS0Nxe6lEM7dkmo79nHK_Vmbm1ezYCTZ2TwfdhmfkGo8PelPYTiintXFPtQagZDZ-5_kuAeXeqC4P4rw2dyd6l4bYNmumBI6X6VCHn-RTgmrT0tZmuDD0nllt1ui0a76MzIUNBtzIsEinGr-pGx=w266-h400" width="266" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Morgan, steak chef extraordinaire</td></tr></tbody></table><span style="text-align: justify;">From there we drove to Kutarere, a tiny community
between Ohope and Opotiki. There we were lucky to stay with Terri’s cousin
Pepper. We were very glad to have a solid roof over our heads when a torrential
downpour hammered down for two days and flooded Opotoki’s rivers. Pepper was an
amazing host and she and her friend Mason kept us well fed and entertained. We
tried our hands at gathering oysters near Opotiki, and were successful enough
to have two massive oyster feasts. We also received in the post a new solar
controller (I had mangled the previous one in my electrical incompetence) and
this time I was much more careful in connecting everything neatly, with a
crimping tool and lots of tiny ferrules to keep the wire ends neat.) Finally
everything was hunky dory on the roof, and the electrics have remained trouble
free ever since. The new controller also has a Bluetooth connection to our
telephones, so we can check the status of the battery, the solars and the load
circuit in real time, which is an addictive thing!</span>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-CA" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;">Eventually we tore ourselves away, via a night
at the oyster beds (which proved to be a very noisy place to camp!) and our
second dose of covid vaccine in Opotiki. We also had an auto electrician
install a circuit to allow us to charge our storage battery from the car engine
when it’s running, something which has been an invaluable boost to the battery
on days when the sun hasn’t shone enough. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-CA" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;"></span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjTF7uQQRDrXcGPfDknII9EWhVdPokbHoQJaiSQsxFSQ9Diw3fLWq9kui3CNPj2jZOdFfSDSGXDZ9kb7k5DX-sTKFubypx6I0yDhsn_BEjuX7xUprmJ3FJcL2mYIVJKjZnV5op-FBzs61BGPgLUXUNtHC3XTP-sdCkFuQeth9r1gqZ7MkEuzOS7cXqQ=s1000" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="667" data-original-width="1000" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjTF7uQQRDrXcGPfDknII9EWhVdPokbHoQJaiSQsxFSQ9Diw3fLWq9kui3CNPj2jZOdFfSDSGXDZ9kb7k5DX-sTKFubypx6I0yDhsn_BEjuX7xUprmJ3FJcL2mYIVJKjZnV5op-FBzs61BGPgLUXUNtHC3XTP-sdCkFuQeth9r1gqZ7MkEuzOS7cXqQ=w400-h266" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">An oyster feast<br /><br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjqDbsGoPS76UGLXQXUmacmHIZTr6Ma1wc2ST4QmhH6MkpgxNRrd14FjuQzKXLMzuD4t4oaMyJ6kK_I5OVaoPeHvvn4N_kBmY15P93Xe44GS6YAZ716Xq2m_VmVwNCkXE7gYyO3mmsSHBRzV9tgJRX_6jBRq4y8whuuMOetkrkq-RsMZUnyAz3Jx3Lh=s1000" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="667" data-original-width="1000" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjqDbsGoPS76UGLXQXUmacmHIZTr6Ma1wc2ST4QmhH6MkpgxNRrd14FjuQzKXLMzuD4t4oaMyJ6kK_I5OVaoPeHvvn4N_kBmY15P93Xe44GS6YAZ716Xq2m_VmVwNCkXE7gYyO3mmsSHBRzV9tgJRX_6jBRq4y8whuuMOetkrkq-RsMZUnyAz3Jx3Lh=w400-h266" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Majestic horse near East Cape<br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><span style="text-align: justify;">From Opotiki we started driving towards the
East Cape, the big and somewhat remote protrusion in the northeast corner of
the North Island. We stopped in at Omaio, at a freedom camp that we had been
told about, and stayed for almost a week. The campsite is a huge field up above
the beach, and at times we had it almost entirely to ourselves. Even when there
were a few other campers, we all had lots of space to ourselves. It was a
lovely spot, with oysters to be had from the rocky shoreline and great cycling
along the coastal highway. Terri was feeling a bit under the weather from her
second vaccine shot, and this was a perfect spot to rest and recuperate. Most
of our camping neighbours were keen fishermen, and we were given some delicious
snapper as a welcome addition to our food supply. The energetic lady who ran the
local shop kept us entertained with stories, and warned us that we were only
welcome if we’d been vaccinated. She had been vaccinated, and was glad to
report that although she’d been infested with nanobots and turned magnetic as a
result, she’d used Epsom salts to wash them away. We nodded wisely and tried
not to giggle.</span>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-CA" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;">From Omaio we made our way further out along
the Cape to lovely Maraehako, a commercial campground with a lovely location in
a secluded cove. We rented kayaks and explored the shoreline, deeply pitted
with caves. That evening, as we were sitting in our tent, we heard the call of
a little blue penguin and went to the shoreline to see one walking along the shore
between brief swims in the sea. It was our first sighting of blue penguins this
trip (although we’d seen them several times <a href="https://graydonstravels.blogspot.com/2018/04/new-zealand-feb-2018-northland-loop.html" target="_blank">on our 2018 trip</a>), and it was
wonderful to see this endearing creature again in the flesh.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-CA" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;"></span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgjTfQlzMvyC1xVF4U9IulAjmLYfHhF1Tplsbk_jyEI3ntTxCWcUsnlkcEsExt1nK8QKVDL6BGBYM5AjykALoF0JnxXEqqYfJDu9ooCt6U2MZeb6LIHOW0MvvCiTdcO_ZUjr4Vaf5Dhy3APLRitGZXgUM8y4mnErQvk7Gy4BAVHLRtvoQzO-pyH3ADk=s1000" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="667" data-original-width="1000" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgjTfQlzMvyC1xVF4U9IulAjmLYfHhF1Tplsbk_jyEI3ntTxCWcUsnlkcEsExt1nK8QKVDL6BGBYM5AjykALoF0JnxXEqqYfJDu9ooCt6U2MZeb6LIHOW0MvvCiTdcO_ZUjr4Vaf5Dhy3APLRitGZXgUM8y4mnErQvk7Gy4BAVHLRtvoQzO-pyH3ADk=w400-h266" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Edmund on the road back from East Cape<br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhwT0wewt5bL0TYv-XgSzz5XV1ae2mJsjwFSO3ZUgaVx91U4Om9OJAmC6uTJBUVlNiNxTTkxwj-4k83QafedEJm7uxrbgm3f3REwjHQkPQVhctXRHmpLXvKC0K3p83y71opK0-hEaIkZXtDps9oEnRd-LnDnsU1ywTU3YFXIfQWLZ_XRzprwdGtSpv4=s1000" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1000" data-original-width="667" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhwT0wewt5bL0TYv-XgSzz5XV1ae2mJsjwFSO3ZUgaVx91U4Om9OJAmC6uTJBUVlNiNxTTkxwj-4k83QafedEJm7uxrbgm3f3REwjHQkPQVhctXRHmpLXvKC0K3p83y71opK0-hEaIkZXtDps9oEnRd-LnDnsU1ywTU3YFXIfQWLZ_XRzprwdGtSpv4=w266-h400" width="266" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">East Cape lighthouse</td></tr></tbody></table><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-CA" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;">We made it to Te Araroa next, a small community
just west of the East Cape. We drove out to the East Cape itself and climbed up
the hill to the lighthouse that marks the easternmost point in mainland New
Zealand, a beautiful if windswept spot. We liked it so much that the next day
we jumped on our bicycles and rode most of the way back to East Cape, revelling
in the fabulous coastal scenery, although we got caught in rain on the way back
to Te Araroa. From there we drove inland to Te Puia Hot Springs (which were,
sadly, closed) and then south to Tokomaru Bay, the first of a series of coastal
towns that stretch north from Terri’s birthplace of Gisborne. We spent a couple
of days in Tokomaru Bay eating delicious fish and chips, doing workouts at the
local rugby field (the goalposts made a great bar to hang our gymnastic rings
from) and lazing beside the shore. The beach was pretty, although it had a
thick covering of driftwood resulting from the extensive logging operations on
commercial timber plantations all along the East Cape.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-CA" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-CA" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-CA" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;"></span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEixJSwE3Sf_RxITEvijoqnymSYnp0SQ1Hn4HUtle_dzzuYDlcc9aAunI5ZTXLrSXtmWRYAELE42NjzNzE7GChIlAtLfIDhVUcrAHTy7xghaBYamUFuDl4HsH7HR90khTxJ3E_Lj5P9_jZnc1luT1SbCJOedCjlArgF9kR5E8xPkyx21VrkrqsKbYA1e=s1000" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="667" data-original-width="1000" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEixJSwE3Sf_RxITEvijoqnymSYnp0SQ1Hn4HUtle_dzzuYDlcc9aAunI5ZTXLrSXtmWRYAELE42NjzNzE7GChIlAtLfIDhVUcrAHTy7xghaBYamUFuDl4HsH7HR90khTxJ3E_Lj5P9_jZnc1luT1SbCJOedCjlArgF9kR5E8xPkyx21VrkrqsKbYA1e=w400-h266" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Baby paradise shelducks at Cook's Cove<br /><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgYmqSQZ1hiSJqBPYi-37M-Cv156vzeAp8YfLDnRHyCjQ-maDxxR5buhUMCy2n-WUgGMJgy8bBmUbGeSpIZPiyK84raCIFnNwDfh-U4tgpdYzio6yIxmzJQVT_KW3Ju9EnrDqCXZIpGFVWgFJ9HekMegdDxmcbrwDiabp8PRl5fOmqDIfYgqjdJX9iu=s1000" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="667" data-original-width="1000" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgYmqSQZ1hiSJqBPYi-37M-Cv156vzeAp8YfLDnRHyCjQ-maDxxR5buhUMCy2n-WUgGMJgy8bBmUbGeSpIZPiyK84raCIFnNwDfh-U4tgpdYzio6yIxmzJQVT_KW3Ju9EnrDqCXZIpGFVWgFJ9HekMegdDxmcbrwDiabp8PRl5fOmqDIfYgqjdJX9iu=w400-h266" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Male paradise shelduck looking protective of his brood<br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><br /></td></tr></tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjYfzomXuqwCD7gWzuL9HeHo4BG8wsmDP5HLRpgfUoEyQjgZCSefstQvgRgB-zCCeSWaAQJ97p3sft8pbbNERgBJC3pdB3Gz4xldD463WCG31vlduyQR4fB6vzT9iG8858ZbBIy20DEkERCamqIcxqjZeArwadZECVLmO7pKWcOQjFBvyrh92dw5Xl7=s1000" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="667" data-original-width="1000" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjYfzomXuqwCD7gWzuL9HeHo4BG8wsmDP5HLRpgfUoEyQjgZCSefstQvgRgB-zCCeSWaAQJ97p3sft8pbbNERgBJC3pdB3Gz4xldD463WCG31vlduyQR4fB6vzT9iG8858ZbBIy20DEkERCamqIcxqjZeArwadZECVLmO7pKWcOQjFBvyrh92dw5Xl7=w400-h266" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Lovely Tokomaru Bay<br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><span style="text-align: justify;">We moved on to Tolaga Bay, almost a twin of
Tokomaru Bay, where we hiked out to Cook’s Cove (where James Cook anchored back
in 1769), cycled, worked out and ate more fish and chips. It was an idyllic
spot, but we could see bad weather appearing on our weather forecasts, so we
fled to Gisborne to shelter under the roof of Terri’s childhood neighbour
Helen. We ended up spending nearly a week there as the rain just continued to
fall, breaking local precipitation records and flooding low-lying areas of
Gisborne. It was a relief to be indoors, and we had a wonderful time catching
up with Helen, her sister Vicky and their mother Bessie, who told us all sorts
of stories from her childhood, her family history and the childhood of Vicky,
Helen and Terri in the suburbs of Gisborne. Gisborne (which we had visited in
2018) reminds me a lot of my hometown of Thunder Bay. It has an industrial air to it, a commercial port, a feeling of isolation (a lot less in the case of
Gisborne, but psychologically it feels remote from the rest of the North
Island) and a sense that the economic and property boom engulfing the North
Island is leaving Gisborne behind a bit.</span>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-CA" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;"></span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgX98NnG8vr3z60fHwADwyQ-6QH5Lzfrg6XCi6BG2yI8M6FG5PVthY9JCxJfD9TKpJo2w5Y6_zU9delCOPcGOH_fVKW1KE5yVSOFKUoT3LEBkeEwk5XjB2lzlycWa0qS5eZUstRrQqNuJXfpfPHPq7VvY_cQRc9ZOspClZQfMBeD5MD_mhm-Hx01h1d=s1000" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="667" data-original-width="1000" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgX98NnG8vr3z60fHwADwyQ-6QH5Lzfrg6XCi6BG2yI8M6FG5PVthY9JCxJfD9TKpJo2w5Y6_zU9delCOPcGOH_fVKW1KE5yVSOFKUoT3LEBkeEwk5XjB2lzlycWa0qS5eZUstRrQqNuJXfpfPHPq7VvY_cQRc9ZOspClZQfMBeD5MD_mhm-Hx01h1d=w400-h266" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Peaceful Mahia campsite<br /><br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEioUVaKgGuBeW3TQTqME6DCyZUOy1LLkJ-Qod86wm74TgBkBXF8y9WUVlFGRa9kla7FV1G7IZvrVyeuKKDJWYW6fFuTXKfG4lZjp63PmZ40135me3xCrRxb5oAhGxSy7p_fpzJTJgpWBFg6Fl1MoqfteOpyK4FZK5xvMrkKAIwPj8dQsDk18GSH8mmb=s1000" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="667" data-original-width="1000" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEioUVaKgGuBeW3TQTqME6DCyZUOy1LLkJ-Qod86wm74TgBkBXF8y9WUVlFGRa9kla7FV1G7IZvrVyeuKKDJWYW6fFuTXKfG4lZjp63PmZ40135me3xCrRxb5oAhGxSy7p_fpzJTJgpWBFg6Fl1MoqfteOpyK4FZK5xvMrkKAIwPj8dQsDk18GSH8mmb=w400-h266" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Cycling on the Mahia Peninsula</td></tr></tbody></table><span style="text-align: justify;">We almost didn’t leave Gisborne, not because we
didn’t want to but because our van refused to start. We managed to get it going
in the end and drove to the lovely Mahia Peninsula, where we camped on a
fabulous beach after having to tow the van the final few hundred metres from the
corner store where we had unwisely stopped the engine. The next day we finally
got the car to start after many attempts, contacted a mechanic in nearby Wairoa
and drove to camp nearby. We had a pretty place to stay, although the next
morning we encountered one of the few instances of genuinely unfriendly
behaviour of the trip from a local woman who let her dogs run free; when they
tried to ransack our food supplies we asked her to control her dogs, whereupon
she exploded in a foul-mouthed tirade. Still shaking our heads, we drove to
Terry the mechanic’s place, had the problem diagnosed (our starter motor needed
new carbon brushes) and camped in his backyard. The next day a courier
delivered the necessary part, and by mid-afternoon we were driving away, back
to the Mahia Peninsula to resume our interrupted idyll by the sea.</span></div><div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiDKmF-gHPFz6wYfJ5JgC6NmUvmvqW1fPdogFcsD98q1YVhnmS1iHRj9oXL8SX5ru1Xhd6yHcBlV1hKbmOHyY4NCjEnYSr8v4qzGwrOR2hNHEYX-oQri0qq9lqKOcaR6JAU_3r7boBh0xQfwjDkLzCab_ywc6iyDefMSthLK-s5_6kHti-PcsQoOqcC=s1000" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1000" data-original-width="667" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiDKmF-gHPFz6wYfJ5JgC6NmUvmvqW1fPdogFcsD98q1YVhnmS1iHRj9oXL8SX5ru1Xhd6yHcBlV1hKbmOHyY4NCjEnYSr8v4qzGwrOR2hNHEYX-oQri0qq9lqKOcaR6JAU_3r7boBh0xQfwjDkLzCab_ywc6iyDefMSthLK-s5_6kHti-PcsQoOqcC=w266-h400" width="266" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Neat rock patterns on the Mahia Peninsula</td></tr></tbody></table><span style="text-align: justify;">We spent a few days on the Mahia Peninsula,
site of many happy childhood memories for Terri, whose father and mother used
to bring the children there to the beach. It’s a spectacular spot, with a
sheltered beach on one side and a wild coastline open to the ocean on the other
side. We hiked, cycled, collected shellfish and chatted with our neighbours, an
eclectic mix of travellers from all over the country. At the southern tip of
the peninsula <a href="https://www.rocketlabusa.com/" target="_blank">a company called Rocket Lab</a> has a launch facility for commercial
satellites; there was a launch scheduled while we were there, and lots of
campers showed up to watch, but it was cancelled due to high winds so we weren’t
able to see the spectacle.</span>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-CA" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;">Refreshed by the Mahia Peninsula, we drove
south towards Napier, staying at a Department of Conservation (DOC) campsite at Lake Tutira. It was a beautiful spot, but we were raked by gale-force winds
that stirred up the tiny lake’s surface into a roiling mass of whitecaps. We
found a place to camp that was sheltered by a belt of tall trees, but in the
middle of the night we were awoken by a thunderous crack that shook the car. I
got up to find that a massive branch had broken off one of the trees, narrowly
missing our neighbours who were sleeping in a small tent. As I got up, I saw
them frantically packing up and throwing their gear into their car before
driving off; had that branch fallen two metres to one side, they would have
been crushed to death under it. It was a sobering night!<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-CA" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;"></span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEi1mwTCBxdAXzEwYdpKr-eBRC9ZtxRWB1_NbYZ8eK6IqgmEZLlhGii1y2rxlLaY2Hs3kfdQOAxljtbfqrzLSu1ji-ZaacVOh36q-2HyaE3Zi_BkSLpSA2DlAeMnnEMWZxVC7_IVlOTbRqIMD-6QGycPtEdKz66fYc19rwjrAwSILa05MITkX9cvmGHG=s1000" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1000" data-original-width="667" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEi1mwTCBxdAXzEwYdpKr-eBRC9ZtxRWB1_NbYZ8eK6IqgmEZLlhGii1y2rxlLaY2Hs3kfdQOAxljtbfqrzLSu1ji-ZaacVOh36q-2HyaE3Zi_BkSLpSA2DlAeMnnEMWZxVC7_IVlOTbRqIMD-6QGycPtEdKz66fYc19rwjrAwSILa05MITkX9cvmGHG=w266-h400" width="266" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">An angry and malevolent swan, Lake Tutira<br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-CA" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;">In the morning we awoke to find the wind still
strafing us, but we went for a lovely hike anyway high into the hills. It was a
mixture of lovely native bush, mature pine plantations which creaked ominously
in the gusts, and cutover slash piles from plantations that had been felled
recently. Forestry is never a lovely sight to behold, but in New Zealand, where
the native forests were often felled and burned a century and a half ago, these
stands of alien-looking exotic trees planted in neat rows on land that was sheep
paddocks not long ago, it’s particularly jarring.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-CA" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;"></span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEinGcrpaq_X-9U1B0_NiHt2yOOzNNymA64uWY_sxKo2Fb45fOWFwHHd3jpDn0VX0LQOkAgdqMG_4KtVxhkNPVp51Y0gh5CJpGarbiUbxwpRcZhjJ5BMrOogkaffXkLhpDNbZifJuNRjxZK02zk4d7X78JqZ-IuIMYfXgBzzcJoysTPJv1QK0P0cP1xB=s1000" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="667" data-original-width="1000" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEinGcrpaq_X-9U1B0_NiHt2yOOzNNymA64uWY_sxKo2Fb45fOWFwHHd3jpDn0VX0LQOkAgdqMG_4KtVxhkNPVp51Y0gh5CJpGarbiUbxwpRcZhjJ5BMrOogkaffXkLhpDNbZifJuNRjxZK02zk4d7X78JqZ-IuIMYfXgBzzcJoysTPJv1QK0P0cP1xB=w400-h266" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Samson family reunion near Napier<br /><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjqvpVCTs1QELzjEwdqEZ2Fbs846dPvyNq0YVVjOLGo0bs0dfw2bDoL0NqHeBNFZ59OOkNkfCm_ns6ZgwtFnzlgfmooI9Q5wH5YMNhsGa9H-R1bHUqPE-xQ2cyDgvv6BJgQuGHzLGqQH7MFHJLyxEZ0PnafMX9oBdX31m1Zt9Rxy7a-bAFTt1gpqcjB=s1000" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="667" data-original-width="1000" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjqvpVCTs1QELzjEwdqEZ2Fbs846dPvyNq0YVVjOLGo0bs0dfw2bDoL0NqHeBNFZ59OOkNkfCm_ns6ZgwtFnzlgfmooI9Q5wH5YMNhsGa9H-R1bHUqPE-xQ2cyDgvv6BJgQuGHzLGqQH7MFHJLyxEZ0PnafMX9oBdX31m1Zt9Rxy7a-bAFTt1gpqcjB=w400-h266" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Rock album cover shot<br /><br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table></td></tr></tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEga5U1jLZxQ_bs2JNp2VZVPDZyi62mVnPGVEuOwZUyqN0V2gt6RX2Lqy8Oxg-BG98fmqY18JWD_7Ei8JZFhtx2r8OxnLMEXIaKaa3sqfWU4F9t9WoS7goMKaEietZKiwCcSSBLeCHIuXUk2fsDwELTSfmP-3pdghImFoPPndDQPF-EVRNSZDbT2eDgb=s1000" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="667" data-original-width="1000" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEga5U1jLZxQ_bs2JNp2VZVPDZyi62mVnPGVEuOwZUyqN0V2gt6RX2Lqy8Oxg-BG98fmqY18JWD_7Ei8JZFhtx2r8OxnLMEXIaKaa3sqfWU4F9t9WoS7goMKaEietZKiwCcSSBLeCHIuXUk2fsDwELTSfmP-3pdghImFoPPndDQPF-EVRNSZDbT2eDgb=w400-h266" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Cliffs along the way to Cape Kidnappers<br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><span style="text-align: justify;">Having survived Lake Tutira, we made our way to
Napier via a few short walks in the hills, in tiny pockets of surviving native
forest. At Haumoana freedom camp we rendezvoused with Terri’s sister Karen and
her husband Joshua. We had a great get-together and a feast of grilled chicken
before retiring early in anticipation of the next day. We awoke and made an
earlier start than usual as our schedule was determined by the tide tables. We
spent the day walking along the beach out to Cape Kidnappers, along the sand
left behind by retreating tides, underneath impressive vertical cliffs. It took
about three hours to get to our destination, a huge colony of Australasian
gannets who nest atop the cliffs. We saw them a few years ago west of Auckland,
but this was made more special by the effort required to get there. With a wary
eye on the incoming tides, we retreated the way we had come, marching back past
a smaller gannet colony as well as cormorants, gulls and terns. It was an
exhilarating walk, and we got back to the start long before the tide cut the
track. I went off for a short bike ride once we were back in camp, glad to get
in lots of outdoor activity on the warmest, sunniest day we had experienced
yet.</span></div><div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEi8InAZ4uG7zaayZZfCWZrQoifQDsa4X21y4NIfmWH1IU6WOYSbuQffW04PRLfTkYZncnZMPFWGDUhu4LZ0uxKr0NJ-XDMmDsMbq_rtsVt-3lkRKWxf2IEAPqIgFFWfs-cQLAIDQE4tsA4mc9wXye6eHZFxltnzmuI3guEGUJQShytQvYsijP-O3UdK=s1000" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="667" data-original-width="1000" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEi8InAZ4uG7zaayZZfCWZrQoifQDsa4X21y4NIfmWH1IU6WOYSbuQffW04PRLfTkYZncnZMPFWGDUhu4LZ0uxKr0NJ-XDMmDsMbq_rtsVt-3lkRKWxf2IEAPqIgFFWfs-cQLAIDQE4tsA4mc9wXye6eHZFxltnzmuI3guEGUJQShytQvYsijP-O3UdK=w400-h266" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Yours truly on the way to Cape Kidnappers<br /><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEh5mZ99eMuRezJh6vrkM-aX-mUHjurQLZNfHA2DycgMclymSyQyC8wJwNpE6IjwDP8JRcD-3UrnQs1xLzMnqIqIk6U_6JOmO5B0D46obRrNJPSdnEvzRQpTC-ulhre6FXtFvQ4FB5WAJeuNn5_QMQAo9-pFd7hKI-CbyKC87udylQ9aRplOa1cIjyRB=s1000" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="667" data-original-width="1000" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEh5mZ99eMuRezJh6vrkM-aX-mUHjurQLZNfHA2DycgMclymSyQyC8wJwNpE6IjwDP8JRcD-3UrnQs1xLzMnqIqIk6U_6JOmO5B0D46obRrNJPSdnEvzRQpTC-ulhre6FXtFvQ4FB5WAJeuNn5_QMQAo9-pFd7hKI-CbyKC87udylQ9aRplOa1cIjyRB=w400-h266" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A loud dispute in the gannet colony<br /><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhpIPe9xGHB7XyPH0Uy84lzDdI1jmuwC-y3_u7qZiycMu0aTIM6z2OM_07FJ0T0a_jARhwGQz7l9mfw4vqy0nlcpoiMhsg1u8O3Zzq1vZovgXydOZnTwoflUAulLvFgDpfOOo86CeG2ML3qtcTzj57k9dvWv5WTn5NIic8Y7e4Njk7JeSuoXFHzC6A3=s1000" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="667" data-original-width="1000" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhpIPe9xGHB7XyPH0Uy84lzDdI1jmuwC-y3_u7qZiycMu0aTIM6z2OM_07FJ0T0a_jARhwGQz7l9mfw4vqy0nlcpoiMhsg1u8O3Zzq1vZovgXydOZnTwoflUAulLvFgDpfOOo86CeG2ML3qtcTzj57k9dvWv5WTn5NIic8Y7e4Njk7JeSuoXFHzC6A3=w400-h266" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A male gannet bringing a seaweed garland for his mate<br /><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgKKNDdnYviLYl4ubE77vEqz-E9LLMZrauG0i7DxIFh093lZ9NNPNdEO5msQH8HjGvvic2uiVSzHPE0TW_gdeGfYL8dcgJO6142gm_999rYvGdvTJAIZ_S0femUWnZ9QIaY0Jgygq1MwNjRp8hsjTp9-aQX0rGzUYkLQqW0Yk0B6M707mJ09_XnaJHA=s1000" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="667" data-original-width="1000" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgKKNDdnYviLYl4ubE77vEqz-E9LLMZrauG0i7DxIFh093lZ9NNPNdEO5msQH8HjGvvic2uiVSzHPE0TW_gdeGfYL8dcgJO6142gm_999rYvGdvTJAIZ_S0femUWnZ9QIaY0Jgygq1MwNjRp8hsjTp9-aQX0rGzUYkLQqW0Yk0B6M707mJ09_XnaJHA=w400-h266" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Terri and a few of her gannet pals<br /><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgtJRKl1t_i18R_9fewSfkQu5x1mWlEmcSNj9JHazQXu_jhNxcRIbayVN1ga0eu4XyKlwZgJRvY3vr0eOWg6sBaiskgJVNC1LEKWehpBpatReZ1UHeUY-AqsvQ557-QNAArx2ihfoceZzZtDCT91MU-Hl8JWdh8ENwR5ts6n_rby7iBJTBnd6XLZy4F=s1000" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="667" data-original-width="1000" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgtJRKl1t_i18R_9fewSfkQu5x1mWlEmcSNj9JHazQXu_jhNxcRIbayVN1ga0eu4XyKlwZgJRvY3vr0eOWg6sBaiskgJVNC1LEKWehpBpatReZ1UHeUY-AqsvQ557-QNAArx2ihfoceZzZtDCT91MU-Hl8JWdh8ENwR5ts6n_rby7iBJTBnd6XLZy4F=w400-h266" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The view from the top of Cape Kidnappers<br /><br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table></td></tr></tbody></table></td></tr></tbody></table></td></tr></tbody></table></td></tr></tbody></table></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjRyW3rqTVyknLBLd-OYkXQeURvqE0ouY-OSi4Fvb5N0LHF93FpRURMb3LhRb9Jdg91hSl9wUVAOtVn2pgeq2AEHXRopbPqLrkHwCOYBeMZNx0yoZkfkzEN8W7kdujpOUyWaILUW9M-9iQRA2vF88UNdh7U1RviN4GvnIOYPKRXPg8VPcwZrB6rWLn5=s1000" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1000" data-original-width="667" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjRyW3rqTVyknLBLd-OYkXQeURvqE0ouY-OSi4Fvb5N0LHF93FpRURMb3LhRb9Jdg91hSl9wUVAOtVn2pgeq2AEHXRopbPqLrkHwCOYBeMZNx0yoZkfkzEN8W7kdujpOUyWaILUW9M-9iQRA2vF88UNdh7U1RviN4GvnIOYPKRXPg8VPcwZrB6rWLn5=w266-h400" width="266" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The sheltering mossy forest on Holdsworth<br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><span style="text-align: justify;">From Haumoana, we drove south for several hours
through agricultural land until we reached the foot of the Tararua Range and
Mt. Holdsworth DOC campground. We set up our tent and awning and went for an
exploratory ramble along the river. Back at the car we arranged accommodation
for the following night in a DOC alpine hut up atop the mountains, grilled pork
chops, packed our backpacks and got ready for our first overnight hike of the
trip.</span>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-CA" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;">It dawned bright but windy the next day, and we
sweated uphill through the dense forest, our bodies unused to our heavy
backpacks. The higher we got, the more the wind howled, until by the treeline
it was blowing a full gale, almost knocking us off our feet and turning our
backpacks into sails. We persevered to Powell Hut, at about 1050 metres above
sea level, where we sheltered indoors for several hours, unwilling to face the
ferocious winds, lingering over lunch and endless cups of tea. Finally, around
2:30, it became less blustery and we were able to wander, carrying only a
camera bag and some warm clothes, up towards the summit of Mt. Holdsworth. It felt
like a homecoming to be up above the treeline in the tussock grass of the alpine
zone, walking through a dramatic mountain landscape dissected by deep gorges. We
made it to the top of Mt. Holdsworth and partway to the next peak, Jumbo,
before turning back to trot downhill to the warmth of the hut. It was a full
hut that evening, with a diverse group of trampers sharing stories and
experiences. The Tararuas are not too far from Wellington, and a lot of the hikers
came from there, either university students or government employees out for
their first big hike of the year. It was a fun atmosphere, and Terri and I
feasted on pasta carbonara padded out with a few rashers of bacon. The full
moon rose as we headed to bed and lit up our hut room with its pale silvery
glow.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-CA" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;"></span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEijnwoPDvt9FFoAmVEsM3pt5dAT-4kuflrmDZ0U1MJz2h-XJm0B0QvPtigc_wNl-q2WK3xRuJnrrUJbJGf1PJCybQ1deSajVcQ_Ag2ggj3XtaIO8z2bNif6jXXbwFnelIWc1CKHd_F1v6IzllPDoetdKk0YSn81PLxcYKnOxGC5fLNyhiyQLEZ_YT5N=s1000" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="667" data-original-width="1000" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEijnwoPDvt9FFoAmVEsM3pt5dAT-4kuflrmDZ0U1MJz2h-XJm0B0QvPtigc_wNl-q2WK3xRuJnrrUJbJGf1PJCybQ1deSajVcQ_Ag2ggj3XtaIO8z2bNif6jXXbwFnelIWc1CKHd_F1v6IzllPDoetdKk0YSn81PLxcYKnOxGC5fLNyhiyQLEZ_YT5N=w400-h266" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Atop a breezy Mt. Holdsworth<br /><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiujauRsFRCjiGV7pupni6TZKNMcBP4DWJ3GEfWkYjWwp0W2--xZ1C71YC6EgJMYECoSwACGJ42cjUCWWK3XdjnrgKUoERPc_YrS6SkLt9yodJbia4_gnHgJeereB7KLtOL74cvBiENaDFu9FcGstPPmGLmf_dWw5w0YYhSKm3LxEHuHn9NLg_O8F07=s1000" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1000" data-original-width="667" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiujauRsFRCjiGV7pupni6TZKNMcBP4DWJ3GEfWkYjWwp0W2--xZ1C71YC6EgJMYECoSwACGJ42cjUCWWK3XdjnrgKUoERPc_YrS6SkLt9yodJbia4_gnHgJeereB7KLtOL74cvBiENaDFu9FcGstPPmGLmf_dWw5w0YYhSKm3LxEHuHn9NLg_O8F07=w266-h400" width="266" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Descending from Mt.Holdsworth<br /><br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table></td></tr></tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgMWTm5wBBlrC_AFxJXKpNfuPEi4q2G_QEEeacd2owgY8LO6izq92_0WrIlZeOQ5kgbPqsG3QpXj-8i2RzvYqTwibr41gtsCS1wmmlQRwukdMiT-ctfcZRXfsNiPQzugnfpfnLXGKhAY8ZxECnxcoRjfMrDOleZaHA1e5opVU6qmGEoNLdr8_n3H6d8=s1000" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="667" data-original-width="1000" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgMWTm5wBBlrC_AFxJXKpNfuPEi4q2G_QEEeacd2owgY8LO6izq92_0WrIlZeOQ5kgbPqsG3QpXj-8i2RzvYqTwibr41gtsCS1wmmlQRwukdMiT-ctfcZRXfsNiPQzugnfpfnLXGKhAY8ZxECnxcoRjfMrDOleZaHA1e5opVU6qmGEoNLdr8_n3H6d8=w400-h266" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Castle Rock and its sketchy-looking summit walk<br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><span style="text-align: justify;">The sunrise the next morning was spectacular,
setting the sky alight from first light. The winds had returned with a
vengeance, and we were glad to get down into the shelter of the trees as rain
clouds gathered overhead. We threw our packs into the car and drove to Castlepoint,
a pretty seaside village that’s been gentrified with lots of expensive new
baches (summer/weekend cottages). We hiked along the dramatic seashore and up
to Castle Rock, a peak that seemed to loom perfectly vertically above the
shoreline. The path proved to be less alarming than it looked from below, and
the views were sensational. We descended carefully and set up camp in a little
freedom camp on the edge of the dunes.</span></div><div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEinWi2N-5XKu7pnX0nFAXsXIqP-EuytEyJy5Rk5e6HxlnWK64K9pg7r7C69DyFJSfLLzyLStw5scfEQT1pqMEVdvYOO99dRLj4zHcALXdHnUHawFVg5p4cfdgHjN1gAreRu5uhC8ku6NwrqbRA6J8hmdyOf8ZMQm1M91vTsLgo-TQkA16nDYM91Tm7j=s1000" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="667" data-original-width="1000" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEinWi2N-5XKu7pnX0nFAXsXIqP-EuytEyJy5Rk5e6HxlnWK64K9pg7r7C69DyFJSfLLzyLStw5scfEQT1pqMEVdvYOO99dRLj4zHcALXdHnUHawFVg5p4cfdgHjN1gAreRu5uhC8ku6NwrqbRA6J8hmdyOf8ZMQm1M91vTsLgo-TQkA16nDYM91Tm7j=w400-h266" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The vista from atop Castle Rock<br /><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgTtA_yqJyJOJD4XPoWVmP6lQ53AHIGT0a0z1en0xMeGQZMuRBrX0JTbQKBqowV5drcT13qXp263NYEs7MsTz1otA3xP_P0tpklYFnqXLkd2Y4so1M9EGzRId2NzMuN5SXptJbnQkcHwwBUbB2TlOwfP53YpLU-HIBtHpeddyOdY5sSQ331sjZ8YHu3=s1000" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="667" data-original-width="1000" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgTtA_yqJyJOJD4XPoWVmP6lQ53AHIGT0a0z1en0xMeGQZMuRBrX0JTbQKBqowV5drcT13qXp263NYEs7MsTz1otA3xP_P0tpklYFnqXLkd2Y4so1M9EGzRId2NzMuN5SXptJbnQkcHwwBUbB2TlOwfP53YpLU-HIBtHpeddyOdY5sSQ331sjZ8YHu3=w400-h266" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A chilly Terri at Castle Point<br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEi6U_FISW7DcKG0CxrxfNxJthaYvduPZUG_gSuNdiPob18CzahGsz2gMmhytpXFDHA4k6KV15LcuPebWLdoafu6pMt_LSu0Fc4_G0qhThVYStWF6dqS0XZfAYmZK5vwU9l8rN5FKrcXRDbN1ddFiCCaJseE2Wv8NLOyuC-g4LFVQN3bJTIFvQ1wEt2I=s1000" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="667" data-original-width="1000" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEi6U_FISW7DcKG0CxrxfNxJthaYvduPZUG_gSuNdiPob18CzahGsz2gMmhytpXFDHA4k6KV15LcuPebWLdoafu6pMt_LSu0Fc4_G0qhThVYStWF6dqS0XZfAYmZK5vwU9l8rN5FKrcXRDbN1ddFiCCaJseE2Wv8NLOyuC-g4LFVQN3bJTIFvQ1wEt2I=w400-h266" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Lazy sea lion near Cape Palliser<br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><span style="text-align: justify;">From Castlepoint we retreated to Masterton, the
regional hub, sorted out Department of Conservation campsite passes (a steal at
NZ $100 a year, given that one night in a campground costs $15 per person) and
then headed south towards the southern tip of the North Island. It was a
dramatic drive along a rugged, remote coastline to Cape Palliser and the 254
wooden steps leading up to its lighthouse, from where we hiked for an hour
along the coast to an abandoned 19</span><sup style="text-align: justify;">th</sup><span style="text-align: justify;"> century Maori village. We swam
in the rather frigid river, returned to the car, visited a nearby colony of sea lions and then drove back a few
kilometres to camp at a DOC campsite at the foot of the Putangirua Pinnacles.</span></div><div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiW5x7tM3alaJvvuT_HkqVQHAbDqBSC8B7jOtFsdIdxuXvETmtlB2rFSt-2uEpdcEliZSamVEDaaQGNiwKnF66VFtxZw34m6V4hF4d6XHw9ww2Kqcv2B48B8DNUvRGrVHEqUDEiiPDFKD3JbN9lYTlg7RBWj03XYrgMbrQz7FVJ2FYbsb_jb92fSOan=s1000" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="667" data-original-width="1000" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiW5x7tM3alaJvvuT_HkqVQHAbDqBSC8B7jOtFsdIdxuXvETmtlB2rFSt-2uEpdcEliZSamVEDaaQGNiwKnF66VFtxZw34m6V4hF4d6XHw9ww2Kqcv2B48B8DNUvRGrVHEqUDEiiPDFKD3JbN9lYTlg7RBWj03XYrgMbrQz7FVJ2FYbsb_jb92fSOan=w400-h266" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sea lion pup, Cape Palliser<br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhXqjMB53CRw4pThgU6ffhBVGTyzuGN1u-hWvQ0T6JXUnWfhxreQGRYDOlTGvYz0Tzo4J-nl5Ws2YR-TUKTE09MsGMsXoEm54-kGXCFoKUgP0tQHGUhTiNREdaNysvhJqm60gMbcjrJtyPyP07hocvGuSQFQpwynnHcyPeDMJKsrCb0aUwfgdbnJrtO=s1000" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="667" data-original-width="1000" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhXqjMB53CRw4pThgU6ffhBVGTyzuGN1u-hWvQ0T6JXUnWfhxreQGRYDOlTGvYz0Tzo4J-nl5Ws2YR-TUKTE09MsGMsXoEm54-kGXCFoKUgP0tQHGUhTiNREdaNysvhJqm60gMbcjrJtyPyP07hocvGuSQFQpwynnHcyPeDMJKsrCb0aUwfgdbnJrtO=w400-h266" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Putangirua Pinnacles<br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><span style="text-align: justify;">We explored the Pinnacles on foot the next day.
They are very picturesque eroded conglomerate, rather like the Badlands of South
Dakota, or the </span><i style="text-align: justify;">houdous</i><span style="text-align: justify;"> of the French Alps near Guillestre which we
visited last year. It was a decent-sized hike, almost four hours, and got us
salivating about the longer treks we were hoping to do in the South Island. Our
campground neighbours gave us some </span><i style="text-align: justify;">paua </i><span style="text-align: justify;">(abalone) which they had gathered,
which tasted absolutely delicious. The fresh seafood and fish from New Zealand’s
oceans really are some of the culinary highlights of travel in this country!</span></div><div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiQGG01cwgEXCwbXaBgnxdnNHYuLinAiqKYysfsJPlvYdrqEqhhumpindNGB4g5tqamT9-naGIXdgUGlnxog4FF1SDC_YBBcssnT0rDggi5c1TIh4h8m5zeBur_U0VYBoPL6cHVSIQr0R_Rqtlj9WuTeVXSuYiZS4oliXN3V1RhFN93XoHH5lcjV9k4=s1000" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1000" data-original-width="667" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiQGG01cwgEXCwbXaBgnxdnNHYuLinAiqKYysfsJPlvYdrqEqhhumpindNGB4g5tqamT9-naGIXdgUGlnxog4FF1SDC_YBBcssnT0rDggi5c1TIh4h8m5zeBur_U0VYBoPL6cHVSIQr0R_Rqtlj9WuTeVXSuYiZS4oliXN3V1RhFN93XoHH5lcjV9k4=w266-h400" width="266" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Putangirua Pinnacles<br /><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjiHiUNfp9ztRfzb3HKJgymuEqnR4ON70PYOx1p0Eh4e25MLI19oYXEWmiLl6Px2gX66csxM08hCS9vGESqGROyl3uJPcAKOM3ZQLKr9vgSwnJTjxIvqTpXCM2IZjcsapyHC_cH2BmV2tGVX5DSt1ERaCLdc58i4GjwPOK-Xz8YI8SIngKXo-m0-ixW=s1000" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="667" data-original-width="1000" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjiHiUNfp9ztRfzb3HKJgymuEqnR4ON70PYOx1p0Eh4e25MLI19oYXEWmiLl6Px2gX66csxM08hCS9vGESqGROyl3uJPcAKOM3ZQLKr9vgSwnJTjxIvqTpXCM2IZjcsapyHC_cH2BmV2tGVX5DSt1ERaCLdc58i4GjwPOK-Xz8YI8SIngKXo-m0-ixW=w400-h266" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Wildflower, Pinnacles Track<br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table></td></tr></tbody></table></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgYD1d6n8FSmVmT3a77J-TPlaXK_5OOwrVduglkeNZDrhNzv0n4frm8AHxNH547PYsbfXnVaF2sFVs74fsBohLXG3j9wGk7FvXcYNGvR54hqCAP87z_LVv7a6R9dv0XXr-Tfg3rshGZ_F2hxboflORk6OMyjgLA97KyvcdLpoKNUF3oRPIZIttxpRJf=s1000" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="667" data-original-width="1000" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgYD1d6n8FSmVmT3a77J-TPlaXK_5OOwrVduglkeNZDrhNzv0n4frm8AHxNH547PYsbfXnVaF2sFVs74fsBohLXG3j9wGk7FvXcYNGvR54hqCAP87z_LVv7a6R9dv0XXr-Tfg3rshGZ_F2hxboflORk6OMyjgLA97KyvcdLpoKNUF3oRPIZIttxpRJf=w400-h266" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Lovely butterfly<br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table></div><div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="text-align: justify;">The next day was devoted to trying to find one
of New Zealand’s most elusive and cryptic native birds, the </span><i style="text-align: justify;">matata </i><span style="text-align: justify;">or
fernbird. We drove to Boggy Pond, one of the few places where they are reliably
seen. Although it was a lovely spot, full of black swans, paradise shelducks, cormorants and tiny baby pied stilts, we had no luck with the fernbirds. We retreated for the last
time to Masterton to have lunch in a city park with Terri’s old army friend
Vivienne, and then headed out to cycle part of the Remutaka Rail Trail. It was
steep for a train line (this section had its own specialized hill-climbing
engines in the 19</span><sup style="text-align: justify;">th</sup><span style="text-align: justify;"> century) but made for a spectacular ride. It
felt good to be cycling in nature rather than along the side of a highway for
once! </span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="text-align: justify;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEj5yMIOb-xRwFJ3HshOFuNNWTJtuO8kx6OuCdZ3494w2HYXD676qIM16-5_JCe7OmhHmBkNMc0KPbLh58iiDAZCiosHrZrpLOPS3HYx7L-op3M6C0LHDYE2TMm5QczzvYJIVSA_9c1WZP_6-VnrfMx4Cz9Hin2G7ZWe5zRnawRe5lRIJ69k6Z-ONYb-=s1000" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="667" data-original-width="1000" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEj5yMIOb-xRwFJ3HshOFuNNWTJtuO8kx6OuCdZ3494w2HYXD676qIM16-5_JCe7OmhHmBkNMc0KPbLh58iiDAZCiosHrZrpLOPS3HYx7L-op3M6C0LHDYE2TMm5QczzvYJIVSA_9c1WZP_6-VnrfMx4Cz9Hin2G7ZWe5zRnawRe5lRIJ69k6Z-ONYb-=w400-h266" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A baby pied stilt<br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="text-align: justify;"><br /></span></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEi4KrsgWSDJLPUMqADdGUTsdrEns0I1grCTrTcN7ouE5ATmpKnDsVLI0hYcrndeLv0CM92IA8PkaBGQtdhc-XpeD1eBLzxZ4rLA8l-Gy9TWmxrdn9OaA4F5kJYuN7nnRlRyzdIIBj1B1koizs3U55ozSM2j_vRQTB5o_PaIYNlUhhc5GeobJtG_CDO9=s1000" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="667" data-original-width="1000" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEi4KrsgWSDJLPUMqADdGUTsdrEns0I1grCTrTcN7ouE5ATmpKnDsVLI0hYcrndeLv0CM92IA8PkaBGQtdhc-XpeD1eBLzxZ4rLA8l-Gy9TWmxrdn9OaA4F5kJYuN7nnRlRyzdIIBj1B1koizs3U55ozSM2j_vRQTB5o_PaIYNlUhhc5GeobJtG_CDO9=w400-h266" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Tuatara, Zealandia<br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="text-align: justify;">We coasted downhill from the summit tunnel and then rashly followed
Google Maps’ directions towards a freedom camp. The program saved a few hundred
metres of distance by sending us along a dirt road with a small ford in it. We
discovered that Edmund the Elgrand doesn’t really like fords when we lodged it
firmly in the pebbly riverbed, partially tearing off the rear bumper in the process.
We took off the bicycles from their bike rack at the back and Terri managed to
coax the vehicle up the opposite bank. After all that, we didn’t even end up
staying at the freedom camp since it was apparently abandoned and lived in by a
collection of people who seemed to have substance abuse and anger management
issues. Instead we drove to an idyllic DOC camp a few kilometres away and spent
a peaceful night.</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="text-align: justify;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="text-align: justify;"><br /></span></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgNSmiUwlniVTQ2zxwub5z__P3-bRefAjb9KSY9-_MFkqxB9mO4UD95Vkj5MXv-qMQ-g1T8JWN24Fs48fwSjaf6wStNdfVvSjgMm_YmO64D2M90fioigA-rzoJAogYFN5Cg5EE1UeoXKf7K8ZL5ey6fb8vHeDDmkRJywrdh1ov6nTHYoFP6nuSBjzXt=s1000" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1000" data-original-width="667" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgNSmiUwlniVTQ2zxwub5z__P3-bRefAjb9KSY9-_MFkqxB9mO4UD95Vkj5MXv-qMQ-g1T8JWN24Fs48fwSjaf6wStNdfVvSjgMm_YmO64D2M90fioigA-rzoJAogYFN5Cg5EE1UeoXKf7K8ZL5ey6fb8vHeDDmkRJywrdh1ov6nTHYoFP6nuSBjzXt=w266-h400" width="266" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Red-fronted parakeet (kakariki), Zealandia</td></tr></tbody></table><span style="text-align: justify;">The next day was our last day of real
exploration on the North Island. We tried to hike along a path marked on our
map app, but the trail soon petered out, apparently abandoned and overgrown.
Instead we drove to the other side of the Remutaka Rail Trail, pulled out the bicycles
and pedalled up the other side of the previous day’s incline. The grade was far
gentler on this side (1% rather than 5%) and almost imperceptible at times. The
scenery was magnificent, and it was a fun morning’s activity. On our way
towards Karen’s house at the Kapiti Coast, we stopped off at another
birdwatching spot, Pauatahanui, again looking for </span><i style="text-align: justify;">matatas</i><span style="text-align: justify;">, and again
striking out, although three biology students we met had seen one just ten
minutes earlier. We admitted defeat eventually and drove on to Karen and Joshua’s
house, where we spent our last days on the North Island eating, drinking and
making merry. We did sally forth one sunny day to explore <a href="https://www.visitzealandia.com/" target="_blank">Zealandia, the amazing predator-free bird sanctuary in the very heart of Wellington</a> (we had <a href="https://graydonstravels.blogspot.com/2018/04/new-zealand-march-2018-down-east-coast.html" target="_blank">been there in 2018</a> as well), but aside from that, we stayed close to home. Joshua fixed up
our mangled bumper, and we visited a couple of Terri’s nieces and nephews who
live nearby. Once again we were lucky to enjoy such warm hospitality, always a
wonderful feeling after weeks of living out of our campervan.</span><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-CA" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;">In the early hours of November 30<sup>th</sup>
we embarked on a ferry to take us across the Cook Strait to the South Island,
but that story will have to wait for the next blog post. We spent a total of
almost three months on the North Island, moving at a very leisurely pace and
waiting (mostly in vain) for the cold, blustery spring weather to change into
warm summer. It was pleasant, but we were both keen to get to the big wide-open
spaces of the South Island and some larger-scale outdoor adventures.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-CA" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-CA" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;"></span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEh-vF7M_i3D8ZHC36nzWroHvIS_hOzkSMQJ0o4oUEsP1a77IkmbCxpznnczvp_jYnxLfiZWnkutNZAfxap9VGuD4A7hcqUJWtd4izflRmucTBMKIqpf8Ae_dRSD4WPrc8Nl2QeU92hDzuZJlf2f4UdvtKt7qeq0ckVpcjB9q5NJGnU-aMDvIk4f51MG=s1000" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1000" data-original-width="667" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEh-vF7M_i3D8ZHC36nzWroHvIS_hOzkSMQJ0o4oUEsP1a77IkmbCxpznnczvp_jYnxLfiZWnkutNZAfxap9VGuD4A7hcqUJWtd4izflRmucTBMKIqpf8Ae_dRSD4WPrc8Nl2QeU92hDzuZJlf2f4UdvtKt7qeq0ckVpcjB9q5NJGnU-aMDvIk4f51MG=w426-h640" width="426" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Majestic kaka, Zealandia<br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-CA" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-635211973012255844.post-40974009784785972162021-12-19T19:10:00.002-08:002022-08-16T05:57:57.732-07:002021: Making The Most Of Stasis<!--Google tag (gtag.js)-->
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEg6De_LTKmzQQuuGs5IhGLGTtzNJn_Z9BFd30cU_jm439rVNkMOZczninG-66prosJUv0geaNkDM485jrg1GK0U4Yd_V1VMrUJpdfsANSbobJ6ba0EfLvxTiruzcgkMt3ae4VFFN_KJgrCuBzpdtv319JszD8hZvmr-N2nU7XmAaECLegNMIq3bOUWf=s1000" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="667" data-original-width="1000" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEg6De_LTKmzQQuuGs5IhGLGTtzNJn_Z9BFd30cU_jm439rVNkMOZczninG-66prosJUv0geaNkDM485jrg1GK0U4Yd_V1VMrUJpdfsANSbobJ6ba0EfLvxTiruzcgkMt3ae4VFFN_KJgrCuBzpdtv319JszD8hZvmr-N2nU7XmAaECLegNMIq3bOUWf=w640-h426" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Terri and I dining out in Lipah</td></tr></tbody></table><p style="text-align: justify;"> </p><p style="text-align: justify;">Te Anau, New Zealand</p><p style="text-align: justify;">It's once again the end of a year, and time to look back over the highs and lows of the past 365 days. These summations seem to come with greater and greater frequency as I careen down the declining side of life, but 2021 seemed to pass with greater speed than most years because it was a full year of plans altered, disrupted and complicated by covid-19. There's some travel to look back upon, but much, much less than would usually be the case for a year spent being economically inactive. Terri and I should have been driving around Africa in Stanley, but that didn't happen. Having said that, we did endeavour to make the most out of a frustrating travel situation.</p><p style="text-align: justify;">The year began in Bali, where Terri and I had fled in late November of last year as the Indonesian border opened up a crack. Lipah, the little bay near better-known Amed, made an ideal base for us to wait out a pandemic. Terri had the foresight and wisdom to buy a house overlooking Lipah Bay over a decade ago, and it is now the closest thing we have to a home base. We had made some improvements to the house back in 2017-18 when we lived there for a number of months, but this time around we made some more substantial alterations. Over the months we put in a new roof (the old one had been so thoroughly nibbled by termites that it was a minor miracle that it hadn't fallen in on top of our heads); put in a few bits of strategic concrete to reinforce the garden and make our outdoor shower less muddy underfoot; installed a workout bar for pullups; got new and much more comfortable beds; improved our outdoor diving gear area; touched up our outdoor kitchen; vastly improved our water system; and completely redesigned our garden area, adding a somewhat grandiose entrance gate topped with a bougainvillea arch and even planting some grape vines. By the end of our various improvements, the house felt much more liveable and home-like than ever before, and it was hard to tear ourselves away from it in early August.</p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgB3Z1Mk2qQ0cBI6zdOjxBqcmaHqlvw01zvISat4AoCbeTdtpW7qzbkKou5085jLaHPUT2HiTl6m981a-0Wx3tBujA5Tc1rgt2fTs40AO0mjZaOF2KuS6BspR9n3MKTK3mV22owTTBLAOkcff1_C_9QVnJLd5u8XS7drqreokH6nTHuRE9CobUk2Lkw=s1000" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="667" data-original-width="1000" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgB3Z1Mk2qQ0cBI6zdOjxBqcmaHqlvw01zvISat4AoCbeTdtpW7qzbkKou5085jLaHPUT2HiTl6m981a-0Wx3tBujA5Tc1rgt2fTs40AO0mjZaOF2KuS6BspR9n3MKTK3mV22owTTBLAOkcff1_C_9QVnJLd5u8XS7drqreokH6nTHuRE9CobUk2Lkw=w400-h266" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Lovely silhouettes and shadows on Gunung Agung<br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><p style="text-align: justify;">The rhythm of life in Lipah was simple and seductive. Three days a week we arose early and worked out faithfully on our pullup bar, using long elastic resistance bands to help us do the pullups that we couldn't do unaided, and then hanging gymnastic rings from the bar to do other exercises. Between that and a set of dip bars that we ordered online, both of us found our upper body strength increasingly very noticeably over the months. I have never had much upper-body strength, but as I get older, I think that this sort of exercise is what my aging body needs.</p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjcgL0AZXJjpI7WQf7lcsfnXb5s9u6jE76uU6V8RP2sPMo5K144qLX7_lHJsyOAOTBZvRhY2_2DpGDcQ6WGbeiFtLxJ6OzWbucRRaewtdAPt6pSyI6B3C7A2UzNCNuP6NNwaOiigHaPCIunFfZTQC7-4yHYt40lim7Mvn_Pg_pK6yM64Q_Gtzad2XLQ=s1000" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="750" data-original-width="1000" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjcgL0AZXJjpI7WQf7lcsfnXb5s9u6jE76uU6V8RP2sPMo5K144qLX7_lHJsyOAOTBZvRhY2_2DpGDcQ6WGbeiFtLxJ6OzWbucRRaewtdAPt6pSyI6B3C7A2UzNCNuP6NNwaOiigHaPCIunFfZTQC7-4yHYt40lim7Mvn_Pg_pK6yM64Q_Gtzad2XLQ=w400-h300" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Paddling near Lipah<br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgwyqWkUObNegaxJgcG5n-V97DN7PaVNUZCTI3pZxgd5UrT3ghF0gIfUOF8ofI_80GDl5wPkxvoGJGsdzqwaaKsTC2NyN6jx7hi3e9wPn5q9vkU8vzlxskdSuJQea2WCtCmzOAvnZNWZL9uGOWrzO5Lq_WEPr1sNBLwgcW3HtwHyM8lcK2NkEzSrX4-=s1000" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="750" data-original-width="1000" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgwyqWkUObNegaxJgcG5n-V97DN7PaVNUZCTI3pZxgd5UrT3ghF0gIfUOF8ofI_80GDl5wPkxvoGJGsdzqwaaKsTC2NyN6jx7hi3e9wPn5q9vkU8vzlxskdSuJQea2WCtCmzOAvnZNWZL9uGOWrzO5Lq_WEPr1sNBLwgcW3HtwHyM8lcK2NkEzSrX4-=w400-h300" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">One of the nearby bays that we regularly visited by kayak<br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><p style="text-align: justify;">Other mornings found us up running along the undulating headlines and coves of the nearby coastline, or cycling up the improbably steep roads running back from the coast. We bought a sea kayak in January, and immediately wondered why we hadn't bought one years earlier, as it gave us another outdoor activity to do together, one that let us see our nearby coastline from a completely new perspective. Most days at some point we got out swimming and snorkelling in Lipah Bay, saying hello to familiar friends like the pair of leaf scorpionfish that always haunt the same coral bommie in the middle of the bay. We both improved our swimming technique, with first Terri and then I becoming somewhat proficient in the butterfly stroke. It was always a joy to be able to experience so much underwater beauty a one-minute stroll from our house. Of course we also got out scuba diving from time to time, either in Lipah (often at night) or down the coast in the spectacular macro diving mecca of Tulamben with our friend and underwater critter-spotter extraordinaire Komang. We were certainly not lacking in outdoor activities to keep ourselves fit and entertained!</p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhOrQOJvugxzrCKSrVc42agw7GIYKfpV_-bGMxtyQKzUruyZIysbw4Zkse_4_tUycyMsCyPSQaImXbaetd0ofeckE8xuWzx_SjtmPZpd5AsTR-oidfMr1agC7cjO52uF2cCbps4cptZsNtsFl9PT74Yb1iUMG_6McRwDrH2o2v4h9ItWdqPIDgqi4RV=s1000" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="750" data-original-width="1000" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhOrQOJvugxzrCKSrVc42agw7GIYKfpV_-bGMxtyQKzUruyZIysbw4Zkse_4_tUycyMsCyPSQaImXbaetd0ofeckE8xuWzx_SjtmPZpd5AsTR-oidfMr1agC7cjO52uF2cCbps4cptZsNtsFl9PT74Yb1iUMG_6McRwDrH2o2v4h9ItWdqPIDgqi4RV=w400-h300" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Baby frogfish<br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEi-TrnwTyVPfR1LISkDQ1Y0S2zPG2iiEVMGyOGLury-n4aEounbmhoRBPgLFNII0ZnsK7feXqC0aPtizyohtTm9_XgPRHBqKXfFMKz8Et2L6a3UxAklEaK9zXvwm4b5Lq7zjds0FOhnhBbobvynxXeX5KVrvfRlznm3P4yNatVozYkcd7ojQOC7aev7=s1000" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="750" data-original-width="1000" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEi-TrnwTyVPfR1LISkDQ1Y0S2zPG2iiEVMGyOGLury-n4aEounbmhoRBPgLFNII0ZnsK7feXqC0aPtizyohtTm9_XgPRHBqKXfFMKz8Et2L6a3UxAklEaK9zXvwm4b5Lq7zjds0FOhnhBbobvynxXeX5KVrvfRlznm3P4yNatVozYkcd7ojQOC7aev7=w400-h300" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Unidentia sandramillenae<br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEifqQLzcZKr4vm-RFnZa2eTcskgdsVGtT9tmd3hibL-rtVryqsS58bUFZFRKCA6fWoMUDQfwV0oJUOuaKOSY25qyKbIitpnGu60tvK8sI8KXtse_VqYdZ9TRBrP_RuvRy2tcFAR2xvXoHSUsqoITnmzIMa8pXQ5ojq45_ab9wb-VeXrpLHyg19gF2wH=s1000" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="750" data-original-width="1000" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEifqQLzcZKr4vm-RFnZa2eTcskgdsVGtT9tmd3hibL-rtVryqsS58bUFZFRKCA6fWoMUDQfwV0oJUOuaKOSY25qyKbIitpnGu60tvK8sI8KXtse_VqYdZ9TRBrP_RuvRy2tcFAR2xvXoHSUsqoITnmzIMa8pXQ5ojq45_ab9wb-VeXrpLHyg19gF2wH=w400-h300" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Thecacera sp. nudibranch<br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjwNaiwjLbRqUH0DUC7rhXWbjqL6ekEtCM7R0CEVdCBySGRsA0gAuo6Tz5Wr85FY4X5bOVYIUkOjiqnNdAPW7kOfCPCbhIs1SsxhELsQXARZs0ag7ry1a-mdPR9j2FdEolee4TYD5uEOWp0kDBOlGwznkvNFmoJYDxAPeFGTU6FbRqPV73jkTSucGfH=s1000" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="750" data-original-width="1000" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjwNaiwjLbRqUH0DUC7rhXWbjqL6ekEtCM7R0CEVdCBySGRsA0gAuo6Tz5Wr85FY4X5bOVYIUkOjiqnNdAPW7kOfCPCbhIs1SsxhELsQXARZs0ag7ry1a-mdPR9j2FdEolee4TYD5uEOWp0kDBOlGwznkvNFmoJYDxAPeFGTU6FbRqPV73jkTSucGfH=w400-h300" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Another beautiful Goniobranchus sp. nudibranch<br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhfJQxkLAEvB91rwCtHPAUPYL7kMtGSieFgff0gbdr6eFoVIHrbBuZo5Kzs4oZmhVTsgQSsLQrzM6-cpHaEsHHZN6qcPo1PRHGxnAtngsnfpK3Ba5Oie0-EaShCvU5OKY1qQWG88Rh66sRoUwobiptWz6AOT16v_vouI2XQFedPOtnQKqWJA14oe-vU=s1000" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="751" data-original-width="1000" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhfJQxkLAEvB91rwCtHPAUPYL7kMtGSieFgff0gbdr6eFoVIHrbBuZo5Kzs4oZmhVTsgQSsLQrzM6-cpHaEsHHZN6qcPo1PRHGxnAtngsnfpK3Ba5Oie0-EaShCvU5OKY1qQWG88Rh66sRoUwobiptWz6AOT16v_vouI2XQFedPOtnQKqWJA14oe-vU=w400-h300" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Doto greenamyeri (or the Doto Donut nudibranch)<br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><p style="text-align: justify;">When I wasn't running, cycling, paddling or bobbing around outdoors, I was putting the finishing touches on <a href="https://www.amazon.com/dp/B08X6GTK43" target="_blank">my first book, Pedalling To Kailash</a>. If you haven't read it yet, there's still time. (Buy yourself an entertaining Christmas present!) It's been a learning experience, with lots of reviews from satisfied and entertained readers, but far fewer sales than I had dreamed of. I am still trying to get more people to buy the book, although I have to conclude that most money and time spent marketing a book ends up being for nought. The plan is still to try to get an agent and an actual commercial publisher to bring my second book, Silk And Solitude, to market backed by the marketing heft of a publishing house used to publicizing books. Stay tuned in 2022! And profound thanks to all of you who have read the book, given me feedback and (importantly) written reviews on Amazon, <a href="https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/57240191-pedalling-to-kailash?ac=1&from_search=true&qid=TOtI6tognh&rank=1" target="_blank">GoodReads</a>, <a href="https://www.librarything.com/work/26158798/book/197029915" target="_blank">LibraryThing</a> or Google Books.</p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjK0e1SSl2PPKenV11tBuxDi-xJEJEgSKK8zmXGichIpy2dAd-Aac_re3aAr_v9LKb7VOzNvu7etnRADQN3si00E9fOpZfIXRl6SToxZxu-qozntJmcCZmvoaEA4BrgXKeYK2zx1XiEi6Bctw6csD8P7YB7imVcBX7CQnh-4KvraVYgiBXTgPaT5L4t=s1000" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1000" data-original-width="667" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjK0e1SSl2PPKenV11tBuxDi-xJEJEgSKK8zmXGichIpy2dAd-Aac_re3aAr_v9LKb7VOzNvu7etnRADQN3si00E9fOpZfIXRl6SToxZxu-qozntJmcCZmvoaEA4BrgXKeYK2zx1XiEi6Bctw6csD8P7YB7imVcBX7CQnh-4KvraVYgiBXTgPaT5L4t=w266-h400" width="266" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Publication Date on February 28th<br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgz5KFuyWPt6Yint7qq_nrYxTu1AU6zadVLZhp9r9aLDiB5K-ALw-K4gx_K_5w3CQ0nf-XRAMV2Bu7HYNV3B-0r0zwC1wREfUf_DykqMNlsaukfiAIkf4_IBbzZSzB2shy2vbMsmR93T-IeARG_8OaXwxYhR-qjyvoTjlT_LX_EwicXZIjnxG-8DbGC=s1000" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="667" data-original-width="1000" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgz5KFuyWPt6Yint7qq_nrYxTu1AU6zadVLZhp9r9aLDiB5K-ALw-K4gx_K_5w3CQ0nf-XRAMV2Bu7HYNV3B-0r0zwC1wREfUf_DykqMNlsaukfiAIkf4_IBbzZSzB2shy2vbMsmR93T-IeARG_8OaXwxYhR-qjyvoTjlT_LX_EwicXZIjnxG-8DbGC=w400-h266" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Me holding the paperback version for the first time<br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><p style="text-align: justify;">Another addition to our Lipah life consisted of a stray female cat (Fantine, or Mama Cat) whom we started feeding in December and who moved in in January when she was about to give birth. She produced a single ginger kitten whom we dubbed Ginger Bear, but within a week the kitten disappeared. We were sad, certain that the little creature had been killed by a neighbourhood tomcat or eaten by a snake. A week afterwards, during a torrential downpour, however, Mama disappeared outside and returned with a bedraggled kitten in her mouth. From that point on the two of them lived at our house, entertaining us with their antics. Ginger Bear grew from being a helpless pile of fluff into a strong, kind-hearted funny cat, despite the constant thrashings administered by Mama who clearly subscribed to the school of Tough Love. Terri and I spent many happy moments watching the two of them fight and then make up by snuggling next to each other for a nap. Neither Terri nor I had owned a pet for decades, and it really made us happy to have these two felines light up our lives.</p><p style="text-align: justify;"><br /></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEh3x9R8Y2Rm-6eLxOxdMwoKsKTjhtj0ptf73FL4f5qc7k787KXza7pSfoK2n2UjUAkYESSN4EO1glu2Y_YIRD0tmr19Ze8Ji_324pnVyNLNG87tXleNsJP3kTzN3zqgUMtH8gxJgzwJfYp_dHQ10jaNnVjxDQ1px9winuciSsq9Txgs0gVkqaCEtRYw=s1000" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="667" data-original-width="1000" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEh3x9R8Y2Rm-6eLxOxdMwoKsKTjhtj0ptf73FL4f5qc7k787KXza7pSfoK2n2UjUAkYESSN4EO1glu2Y_YIRD0tmr19Ze8Ji_324pnVyNLNG87tXleNsJP3kTzN3zqgUMtH8gxJgzwJfYp_dHQ10jaNnVjxDQ1px9winuciSsq9Txgs0gVkqaCEtRYw=w400-h266" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A newly-born Ginger Bear</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEju9CprNHV5g9aN-7ih2vWbOc7QAU5oadNym36Y4kvXl76QC4x5uuV_tFZdkD2AmI_qrdkCPXZRjrOpx6xsDtP3SzWQflP5TwmDpd0eu1CkkCDY3hTWfmR9kYdeCWjAtA5zuMsWOqiQt7AtIo3ppryD3Ws5JA3g01WM4bSo0aAguxZERVvK8p2p8p9U=s1000" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1000" data-original-width="667" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEju9CprNHV5g9aN-7ih2vWbOc7QAU5oadNym36Y4kvXl76QC4x5uuV_tFZdkD2AmI_qrdkCPXZRjrOpx6xsDtP3SzWQflP5TwmDpd0eu1CkkCDY3hTWfmR9kYdeCWjAtA5zuMsWOqiQt7AtIo3ppryD3Ws5JA3g01WM4bSo0aAguxZERVvK8p2p8p9U=w266-h400" width="266" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Our tiny bundle of ginger joy</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjMt4sucOzIuuAskhkspFdb_hEIRdJCIs7MoUvfDDcXpDnyBlJDlRm99wwxk_nUuffX6ap9AcQ69cdhXny1M_Jrc9uK4P2f67E72uomXUPD-c4m0iEGp9ndUNeR_hNa8rK6j25gkC_BuZRop5y6JbB3dyRO6bduwrzE-v1L26ZAUpQR67B18SwToBzV=s1000" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="667" data-original-width="1000" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjMt4sucOzIuuAskhkspFdb_hEIRdJCIs7MoUvfDDcXpDnyBlJDlRm99wwxk_nUuffX6ap9AcQ69cdhXny1M_Jrc9uK4P2f67E72uomXUPD-c4m0iEGp9ndUNeR_hNa8rK6j25gkC_BuZRop5y6JbB3dyRO6bduwrzE-v1L26ZAUpQR67B18SwToBzV=w400-h266" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ginger Bear getting used to walking</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><p style="text-align: justify;"><br /></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEio7NBvz2-c28HmBZvTBx3sweIOH1kinXYQHw2AO9iNzCMXpJA5XzUV-9LwyCDYdyn3lQ6A0cHtj8tQleMNjjctgEtbIp3-Ad4zla-HZnR6Kt_YGbEgo3naUKTFQdQRLd_iBP_wY6lKmGUQcUerVXal1at19QJchqqk_FGNolK40Scz4l1CR_x_BcXk=s1000" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1000" data-original-width="667" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEio7NBvz2-c28HmBZvTBx3sweIOH1kinXYQHw2AO9iNzCMXpJA5XzUV-9LwyCDYdyn3lQ6A0cHtj8tQleMNjjctgEtbIp3-Ad4zla-HZnR6Kt_YGbEgo3naUKTFQdQRLd_iBP_wY6lKmGUQcUerVXal1at19QJchqqk_FGNolK40Scz4l1CR_x_BcXk=w266-h400" width="266" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mama Cat beating sense into Ginger Bear<br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgcBIRx6m2r0xPUn8gePgFjLSSKMHP59tasyhygoSYBwxjB-soXa6_P92RoyELm9YwAcUlmciulBhJaNtOUlR38o637dt48RNXFYobDkg7fNohavSTga6zv2OwQNbTLxBdEgpn2RgTlPBB_aUep3StGtVe_DCZ0F7jysA8LlsySI80X752VyEsb9xJb=s1000" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1000" data-original-width="750" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgcBIRx6m2r0xPUn8gePgFjLSSKMHP59tasyhygoSYBwxjB-soXa6_P92RoyELm9YwAcUlmciulBhJaNtOUlR38o637dt48RNXFYobDkg7fNohavSTga6zv2OwQNbTLxBdEgpn2RgTlPBB_aUep3StGtVe_DCZ0F7jysA8LlsySI80X752VyEsb9xJb=w300-h400" width="300" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Terri and Ginger Bear<br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><p style="text-align: justify;">Most of the time we stayed in Lipah, but we did get away occasionally to other parts of Bali. We combined a visa run to Singaraja with a few days of diving and relaxing in the muck-diving area of Puri Jati in late January. We took advantage of a cheap deal to cycle north up the coast to a little resort in Tejakula for a two-night getaway. A second visa run in May gave us a chance to explore the interior of the island near scenic Mt. Batur and its huge caldera. I returned to the Batur area a month later by bicycle to get some exercise. Mostly, however, we were content to live quietly and enjoyably in Lipah.</p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiVmmE5eSRGIgoSbc3KaIckRgxpcgCKW-6xFE_LnEZCTN6G7wF7vvjt_ncdYIiJuWZVlOtgQzC2KHgorfi22ILAv2XjqVbOlzTfJt-c_9atcTy-Hj8AFqQhd5Ygubyxjqxp3VXUl06bFt7t9UMTspfsIOePIwCZs3VO52uP_hQuSXq8nxH4Pvcl_A9G=s1000" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="750" data-original-width="1000" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiVmmE5eSRGIgoSbc3KaIckRgxpcgCKW-6xFE_LnEZCTN6G7wF7vvjt_ncdYIiJuWZVlOtgQzC2KHgorfi22ILAv2XjqVbOlzTfJt-c_9atcTy-Hj8AFqQhd5Ygubyxjqxp3VXUl06bFt7t9UMTspfsIOePIwCZs3VO52uP_hQuSXq8nxH4Pvcl_A9G=w400-h300" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Terri on the beach at Tejakula<br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><p style="text-align: justify;">Our biggest excursion from Bali was a trip to Flores in June to see the famous Komodo dragons. I had visited Komodo back in 1996, but Terri had never seen them and was keen to make up for this omission. For her birthday we booked what was promised to be a swanky cruise around Komodo, Rinca and other picturesque island. Reality proved to be a bit less than advertised, with the clients on our boat being largely Indonesians obsessed with Instagramming every spot on the itinerary, with drones and carefully selected outfits, and the crew keener on ear-splitting karaoke and thumping bass than on the natural scenery. It made us glad to escape back to Lipah without catching covid, once we had seen the dragons (as impressive as I remembered them), mantas and beautiful scenery.</p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjlZIz0RnhDabPQsfj4xylDCvNk6gaQfYiBYDj0ziIyLcFpk9hYkOwI6_zcfroUPIiV0utHvjx5AQcSmH4sFt_QwTPdiIw_oVnkxpp-f6kWzVgn3tnBki7nh7KjNOIqsMRS99quIbYIhsHbwx3WWiVs1u2SoXbtBFfVZQsGJ64FAlX_FSK4VkuFKr9Q=s1000" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="667" data-original-width="1000" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjlZIz0RnhDabPQsfj4xylDCvNk6gaQfYiBYDj0ziIyLcFpk9hYkOwI6_zcfroUPIiV0utHvjx5AQcSmH4sFt_QwTPdiIw_oVnkxpp-f6kWzVgn3tnBki7nh7KjNOIqsMRS99quIbYIhsHbwx3WWiVs1u2SoXbtBFfVZQsGJ64FAlX_FSK4VkuFKr9Q=w400-h266" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A Komodo dragon out for an afternoon stroll<br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiQfJ4yPBWqTylmgE6mZBx6gUAQiz3NGgGrdCx-NoPwqYjPEwXvPEkn_mC0ASsOWwUicj4qGcIQ7xd6AYe00X6HQ9mqUnAsAnERt67gwJdUI3dpDkHl_wByiFIpxjkZodPbsxQHraCkoBn24v6a2kbQYEklJ8XrbVdDE5dqhefYGeMqt6xgO2zDHLJs=s1024" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="768" data-original-width="1024" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiQfJ4yPBWqTylmgE6mZBx6gUAQiz3NGgGrdCx-NoPwqYjPEwXvPEkn_mC0ASsOWwUicj4qGcIQ7xd6AYe00X6HQ9mqUnAsAnERt67gwJdUI3dpDkHl_wByiFIpxjkZodPbsxQHraCkoBn24v6a2kbQYEklJ8XrbVdDE5dqhefYGeMqt6xgO2zDHLJs=w400-h300" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Terri, the dragon and I<br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjMHXsNHzfJh-4q2SKmxpFm7DdBhSUcklhQBfFQYJ8cc9Ka48le7wh5EoAXmSOUnXyrUnkYMGTaZTZs7M3WJJQ01AfDXBlFixeeB16W2p3APqIG-AMQWB6ok-WPdjft9WjO-__ELXbPtEyNhwy0pUMp6nX8KlZMrAq57vIeKOXJT6dLysdKNrMRTFvH=s1000" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="750" data-original-width="1000" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjMHXsNHzfJh-4q2SKmxpFm7DdBhSUcklhQBfFQYJ8cc9Ka48le7wh5EoAXmSOUnXyrUnkYMGTaZTZs7M3WJJQ01AfDXBlFixeeB16W2p3APqIG-AMQWB6ok-WPdjft9WjO-__ELXbPtEyNhwy0pUMp6nX8KlZMrAq57vIeKOXJT6dLysdKNrMRTFvH=w400-h300" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Terri and manta ray<br /><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiHTdEfl-bDGTJ1a7IHeiQKWSHVyX-otLmj5kbM0VWlzOAjs7j21QxelMq6xbcUx0ObYvpFrvlrvW7bzRChR4D9HPOif5LydZhfbN1zkh_o2YTrnuBZfn2xHXN5XyKAIas6JrWZUCOmA8PjkRAqn-74_2jMoFKZLY7K6jn_Lf9ZrLOt3NweOZUwY8vb=s1000" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="750" data-original-width="1000" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiHTdEfl-bDGTJ1a7IHeiQKWSHVyX-otLmj5kbM0VWlzOAjs7j21QxelMq6xbcUx0ObYvpFrvlrvW7bzRChR4D9HPOif5LydZhfbN1zkh_o2YTrnuBZfn2xHXN5XyKAIas6JrWZUCOmA8PjkRAqn-74_2jMoFKZLY7K6jn_Lf9ZrLOt3NweOZUwY8vb=w400-h300" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Manta ray near Komodo<br /><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEh32Cva5NK-b1GGl5FU5bfEJz5bJk54xwnnMpR0_jZFrmqvgrZIVRP_xfUhaK7_an4kHmcyK3ypzJwVYw9wgScEaHWfAqqInQYCuxCcnhXrLQe9lb_hP1Z63-nVQwrc-oXuOgrviTu5dgyu_JR6VKRbEFCa9jDaEEmO7avLv5MNqRcJQYemZi3HkRWJ=s1000" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="750" data-original-width="1000" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEh32Cva5NK-b1GGl5FU5bfEJz5bJk54xwnnMpR0_jZFrmqvgrZIVRP_xfUhaK7_an4kHmcyK3ypzJwVYw9wgScEaHWfAqqInQYCuxCcnhXrLQe9lb_hP1Z63-nVQwrc-oXuOgrviTu5dgyu_JR6VKRbEFCa9jDaEEmO7avLv5MNqRcJQYemZi3HkRWJ=w400-h300" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Maree snorkelling near Komodo<br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjOkG8zWixv920jwAol2Qdbx_s4PVBw7BxAE--c3UCLODnmrWnNNr_BacIdzhV-tfcY3hR7-Usy-JnBjF6SNIEjM0WvCfIePGKusV3FZMkozykMgIzhAvcvy-eefHQCrCFvWdPxQrhdv62LwFY298p78helxgiwIJzGjCAv4IvEKC5ljhRPKFcR2s1y=s1000" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="750" data-original-width="1000" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjOkG8zWixv920jwAol2Qdbx_s4PVBw7BxAE--c3UCLODnmrWnNNr_BacIdzhV-tfcY3hR7-Usy-JnBjF6SNIEjM0WvCfIePGKusV3FZMkozykMgIzhAvcvy-eefHQCrCFvWdPxQrhdv62LwFY298p78helxgiwIJzGjCAv4IvEKC5ljhRPKFcR2s1y=w400-h300" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Me snorkelling near Komodo<br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEi7nr09fa3j3rYa0HDp885zuDl1NNynHDcdoyLnI69lpRKBvCELvhTwpkwy7WWfTlFwafm-_OUQ1JzT2ElWXHfRHGvYEVAMAGK8B65RqJMY9maNasORJrTJak8vAutt2cdFpHcs1jKtRvagF8EsCV9UWO5x5R5bXjZOwd-LQWHh1RziW2QODQpO_1GQ=s1000" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="667" data-original-width="1000" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEi7nr09fa3j3rYa0HDp885zuDl1NNynHDcdoyLnI69lpRKBvCELvhTwpkwy7WWfTlFwafm-_OUQ1JzT2ElWXHfRHGvYEVAMAGK8B65RqJMY9maNasORJrTJak8vAutt2cdFpHcs1jKtRvagF8EsCV9UWO5x5R5bXjZOwd-LQWHh1RziW2QODQpO_1GQ=w400-h266" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A stunning sunrise on our Komodo trip<br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjsb7oFO1ZlyMGkWBb0OKfz1-VVaG3Q4kQ0nFvQ7niQsZYOhp8QwqrhTum1ZcXfA-6ZlU4tB3I3mnCdCu9ICm8rxxsT9q83SoQ2wSI_X7frfmvrPzD4gPfjt2JdgQhMrSdGUB64G8ifW87sB9aHRU2Ae5WV_LYF4ZFuLS3TC8U5yKypgOuvc1tLpmWf=s1000" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="750" data-original-width="1000" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjsb7oFO1ZlyMGkWBb0OKfz1-VVaG3Q4kQ0nFvQ7niQsZYOhp8QwqrhTum1ZcXfA-6ZlU4tB3I3mnCdCu9ICm8rxxsT9q83SoQ2wSI_X7frfmvrPzD4gPfjt2JdgQhMrSdGUB64G8ifW87sB9aHRU2Ae5WV_LYF4ZFuLS3TC8U5yKypgOuvc1tLpmWf=w400-h300" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">On a pink-sand beach near Komodo<br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><p style="text-align: justify;">As idyllic as our existence in Lipah was, there were forces pushing us towards New Zealand. I had spent a lot of time, effort and money to procure a partner visa allowing me to breach the border defences that NZ had erected against covid, and it was going to expire in early September if I didn't enter the country. Terri managed to get coveted and rare spots in the Managed Isolation and Quarantine system, and we booked flights. As July progressed, however, covid numbers in Indonesia began to surge and countries like Singapore and New Zealand erected new barriers; we would have to spend at least three weeks in another country before we would be allowed to transit through Singapore airport and continue on to New Zealand. So we scrambled to change MIQ dates, booked flights to Turkey (one of the few countries that travellers from Indonesia were allowed to enter at that point) and set off in August for Ankara.</p><p style="text-align: justify;">I wrote a long (perhaps overly long!) <a href="https://graydonstravels.blogspot.com/2021/10/trotting-around-turkey-retrospective.html" target="_blank">blog post about that trip which you can read here</a>. The short version is that it was a fabulous journey through ancient history (some of it very ancient indeed!) and scenery. It was my fourth visit to Turkey, and it likely won't be my last. It was great to be out on the open road again, and it was hard to pry ourselves away to catch our flight to Auckland on September 3rd.</p><div><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhjd8eJji8bmMQAn6niKjEwLKm6IFBxVElxBJqAB56gn-zjBZhQLpTxCkPchmAy8vfQ0oJGxAdpO8qTZ4fk5Lupt2t0Ia2IFScEEf9LIRj4W3uS4bOxuhwJyTRJRPnaucqZcuJTJAm_gQiyGLWn7XAtkmX4MKRo2Hf0dECZNuWWNFl0C5C2gWHVDERP=s1000" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1000" data-original-width="667" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhjd8eJji8bmMQAn6niKjEwLKm6IFBxVElxBJqAB56gn-zjBZhQLpTxCkPchmAy8vfQ0oJGxAdpO8qTZ4fk5Lupt2t0Ia2IFScEEf9LIRj4W3uS4bOxuhwJyTRJRPnaucqZcuJTJAm_gQiyGLWn7XAtkmX4MKRo2Hf0dECZNuWWNFl0C5C2gWHVDERP=w266-h400" width="266" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Cuneiform tablet, Ankara</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhlnVjygc1-n0I0lthw-8dXLB1aYZz6Z38nIN6ELLsZsTZcLpNzZvWFAffcbDd2txQ9wf6hoEI9g31dLvZWA24Y6D2CxrVsTvmWwnJH09f58WIpYtNcbBdErR5NMH69H_U4jb7qYisMr5JF1S6mymtmeyYJHAhxofMt5baShnoRx7j_RruI6ea1cC1Z=s1000" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="667" data-original-width="1000" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhlnVjygc1-n0I0lthw-8dXLB1aYZz6Z38nIN6ELLsZsTZcLpNzZvWFAffcbDd2txQ9wf6hoEI9g31dLvZWA24Y6D2CxrVsTvmWwnJH09f58WIpYtNcbBdErR5NMH69H_U4jb7qYisMr5JF1S6mymtmeyYJHAhxofMt5baShnoRx7j_RruI6ea1cC1Z=w400-h266" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Hattusa</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjXY2Tmfsikg8p8VjY-j1qcebWCKNx4syl1SFeqQz9SspOh3-fwJdmf1F46Tg8_xFLOxLyF2U1VKTZwcdWoZGLM1EJCimtYtZC28arz7xel25s0rlcMFY15Nw1oSYiC-A5CSuHDzTooiwlsqPuVAAD-t9AI2CWPgQAcmlm5ddRuWuHIPzTqNq2Zp2Em=s1000" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1000" data-original-width="667" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjXY2Tmfsikg8p8VjY-j1qcebWCKNx4syl1SFeqQz9SspOh3-fwJdmf1F46Tg8_xFLOxLyF2U1VKTZwcdWoZGLM1EJCimtYtZC28arz7xel25s0rlcMFY15Nw1oSYiC-A5CSuHDzTooiwlsqPuVAAD-t9AI2CWPgQAcmlm5ddRuWuHIPzTqNq2Zp2Em=w266-h400" width="266" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Hattusa</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEh0gB82Uq_QwXJ8mQNTMlHlycU2PAodvajRUZgihYuk6M6IlhT_drox1hGTfvHMWkD-MEZcHZB7oBS97aN7RWuPtRSUXxyx1y68xAJ2kKrsIQEfYmllNScOhDtLVdVsA6XaSmGaFIqYro1nEGVYWFQF0j6UGTSdr5155p7GkqNRVKla-yKwEjicvG4A=s1000" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1000" data-original-width="667" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEh0gB82Uq_QwXJ8mQNTMlHlycU2PAodvajRUZgihYuk6M6IlhT_drox1hGTfvHMWkD-MEZcHZB7oBS97aN7RWuPtRSUXxyx1y68xAJ2kKrsIQEfYmllNScOhDtLVdVsA6XaSmGaFIqYro1nEGVYWFQF0j6UGTSdr5155p7GkqNRVKla-yKwEjicvG4A=w266-h400" width="266" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Hittite relief, Kayalipinar</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjGCTX9hRKVbn2FwIn84PRhkeW3yqqBBB1z6mQhBNMZaF8V6GLdn7SSCNx6lP5Z2Qg0IdLw_hxUik__QOAHsuLZyzvUXxophm4PcpayDMCJU0IRqyB5tIOpF8iPrkdFxoXdBKSqu3FMdjNCbwwztGi7w3OYt9B9SNJSgURjXkU63tYq_Kdwo7w8P6sd=s1000" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="667" data-original-width="1000" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjGCTX9hRKVbn2FwIn84PRhkeW3yqqBBB1z6mQhBNMZaF8V6GLdn7SSCNx6lP5Z2Qg0IdLw_hxUik__QOAHsuLZyzvUXxophm4PcpayDMCJU0IRqyB5tIOpF8iPrkdFxoXdBKSqu3FMdjNCbwwztGi7w3OYt9B9SNJSgURjXkU63tYq_Kdwo7w8P6sd=w400-h266" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Kackar Mountains</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhiEszbP2M4KnTyoGfABEmtjyOajtJWFr6Z5GNZBU8z2bDaViC7zHwhiOrmcxem7JaDVL64uu71yizhYSQAq2UT5LW8PqKxVxLQteRgzQ1b4GfxF10ViydzIeKZLj-RIbarycxf7mHcCZWqHLJxEPPavpALhEe9l8nkETZLngMKdnFHFsjmr5iv79dx=s1000" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="667" data-original-width="1000" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhiEszbP2M4KnTyoGfABEmtjyOajtJWFr6Z5GNZBU8z2bDaViC7zHwhiOrmcxem7JaDVL64uu71yizhYSQAq2UT5LW8PqKxVxLQteRgzQ1b4GfxF10ViydzIeKZLj-RIbarycxf7mHcCZWqHLJxEPPavpALhEe9l8nkETZLngMKdnFHFsjmr5iv79dx=w400-h266" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Valley of the Roses, Cappadocia</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjJltumBpG01CafZNObV3baltqCHh1top0FF3SJbhqntFDWoCHoJyQtyHShmt-nrM9JAwgCNq_HvUk4mBH5szee52Fbhsx0qgyTOU21-IWio1zYgwngLy5k0TpoQSfwMhcFzpR1HS0-BgTM7ertWIiDuwLwVDHAwU7KghWL9WJ0NxQDJTvkBNsT-dst=s1000" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="667" data-original-width="1000" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjJltumBpG01CafZNObV3baltqCHh1top0FF3SJbhqntFDWoCHoJyQtyHShmt-nrM9JAwgCNq_HvUk4mBH5szee52Fbhsx0qgyTOU21-IWio1zYgwngLy5k0TpoQSfwMhcFzpR1HS0-BgTM7ertWIiDuwLwVDHAwU7KghWL9WJ0NxQDJTvkBNsT-dst=w400-h266" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Valley of the Roses, Cappadocia</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgL7-6SxrPdyey95hdovV9TVKYo5EeK3VaQGwOXEy8OAYeKGbBdDyplBy3m0HKfrZV1het9JOuQWMgPxVxgFNDSJqox1YLQHZcm-j4U9M0q2xH-jdirFAlObLsFLeDGtHj9NfU4KsIdS4DQlGuoWTI-dilpml99TzneTINf-is6W6nYPIUW-taIEUnX=s1000" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="667" data-original-width="1000" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgL7-6SxrPdyey95hdovV9TVKYo5EeK3VaQGwOXEy8OAYeKGbBdDyplBy3m0HKfrZV1het9JOuQWMgPxVxgFNDSJqox1YLQHZcm-j4U9M0q2xH-jdirFAlObLsFLeDGtHj9NfU4KsIdS4DQlGuoWTI-dilpml99TzneTINf-is6W6nYPIUW-taIEUnX=w400-h266" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Hot air ballooning, Cappdocia</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjAMzDj_a-aHw3KgjVSztXClLtYktCnQpD1qZCfR2tB3IB12Ksb8nNNgL_godp4cxqpYojkwmio5uD4G9dXPpRl0lAFgsRG_s90pfolNxNE7eOLfNNrbjl_Mk5bUpheCC8dfs96021cgEb2MEkQrId-enToxWGgQjlSEPEbBbR06A54CkGUNodFETt1=s1000" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1000" data-original-width="667" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjAMzDj_a-aHw3KgjVSztXClLtYktCnQpD1qZCfR2tB3IB12Ksb8nNNgL_godp4cxqpYojkwmio5uD4G9dXPpRl0lAFgsRG_s90pfolNxNE7eOLfNNrbjl_Mk5bUpheCC8dfs96021cgEb2MEkQrId-enToxWGgQjlSEPEbBbR06A54CkGUNodFETt1=w266-h400" width="266" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Cappadocian ballooning</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEi7gdgYBS4KHAtc-eLsI2uUgn9dBBj2wwRQh2t8K1ZzTZSZ8IzCYIP6NeW8qeri6FAcVmG-JBI7vWL6BvBjJ9eYjXfXQpAyLXF5_YY-ZKWi0MD0viRJvTy9pxHtaV_kd66JHdvGAB_0EyaljGvDWiWkyItDsGb3vBME2Fa4rYxHZBQvsdEzJXwr5ppV=s1000" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="667" data-original-width="1000" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEi7gdgYBS4KHAtc-eLsI2uUgn9dBBj2wwRQh2t8K1ZzTZSZ8IzCYIP6NeW8qeri6FAcVmG-JBI7vWL6BvBjJ9eYjXfXQpAyLXF5_YY-ZKWi0MD0viRJvTy9pxHtaV_kd66JHdvGAB_0EyaljGvDWiWkyItDsGb3vBME2Fa4rYxHZBQvsdEzJXwr5ppV=w400-h266" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sultanhani caravansarai</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhd4KiAbfECFo6ijTX_0_bu0ZXcHIKPmMW5yy-lFNhaTHnQMXTK3nCPLQGqaOGWDdrFiV0KSUbJfCTp-H0n-DpMv2k-I2wyJ_fLcDwogz_Alb8jB5FpXPYbEhHokkZuXxZjBJLaYNgC1bGLF2DJ714CXQ_xK72brRoBfi8ZRZuZDfZb-sr79BXVXag2=s1000" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="667" data-original-width="1000" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhd4KiAbfECFo6ijTX_0_bu0ZXcHIKPmMW5yy-lFNhaTHnQMXTK3nCPLQGqaOGWDdrFiV0KSUbJfCTp-H0n-DpMv2k-I2wyJ_fLcDwogz_Alb8jB5FpXPYbEhHokkZuXxZjBJLaYNgC1bGLF2DJ714CXQ_xK72brRoBfi8ZRZuZDfZb-sr79BXVXag2=w400-h266" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Talking with the experts at Acem Hoyuk</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgfMaZxj8sSGSyXlZ60_-5ytj7scyyl0IPO0TTQYUlQEmAq1auSs0CaQDyPo7oTskfRSQEGuz1Mw2lDuAlEdTGbz_pMryU40yjOQG6VPP3sVjFAWH4TFiI5xoXKdDUUqs9SA4xSVguN_r6ZLaSWyJQbJBK7FI1aLOVbwKHgXQXT9LZN-CkZLXYlW_bt=s1000" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="668" data-original-width="1000" height="268" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgfMaZxj8sSGSyXlZ60_-5ytj7scyyl0IPO0TTQYUlQEmAq1auSs0CaQDyPo7oTskfRSQEGuz1Mw2lDuAlEdTGbz_pMryU40yjOQG6VPP3sVjFAWH4TFiI5xoXKdDUUqs9SA4xSVguN_r6ZLaSWyJQbJBK7FI1aLOVbwKHgXQXT9LZN-CkZLXYlW_bt=w400-h268" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Replicas of wall paintings at Catal Hoyuk</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEidd2GB6zr2MyHafAW2Djoge160M_2ELao4OTu_t_wI0lOl8RCqkSrfONQ4C_1hpu76Am4sfd3WDmKa04Ov43VabYIkbjviptOHHEE0rSyclaq6LCBGr8qSX67Gp5ycf6B9ZQc-58NrYv2G1TLjNxmCFYO53G9nnJBzQUYuQR5zVdH_F3uXNhJG_5mP=s1000" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1000" data-original-width="668" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEidd2GB6zr2MyHafAW2Djoge160M_2ELao4OTu_t_wI0lOl8RCqkSrfONQ4C_1hpu76Am4sfd3WDmKa04Ov43VabYIkbjviptOHHEE0rSyclaq6LCBGr8qSX67Gp5ycf6B9ZQc-58NrYv2G1TLjNxmCFYO53G9nnJBzQUYuQR5zVdH_F3uXNhJG_5mP=w268-h400" width="268" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Midas Memorial</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><br /><p style="text-align: justify;"><br /></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjq6p9ok7YMRmqohH1Mo6NO_lKT_cqHO-zry-6L77EFziSY7iesxwCSAZe0lE95n5VLrvtNoIqn14wUYg2xIbeDEaxiZw9M_xRQL6ZrxGQSFMkVGqAy-9ToIHBUseDnkJ8Zx2hv6UzNcwU229-51ztfBDQxiNK2WLAsu_IKeZySpGV02BKAvGzxBZx9=s1000" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="668" data-original-width="1000" height="268" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjq6p9ok7YMRmqohH1Mo6NO_lKT_cqHO-zry-6L77EFziSY7iesxwCSAZe0lE95n5VLrvtNoIqn14wUYg2xIbeDEaxiZw9M_xRQL6ZrxGQSFMkVGqAy-9ToIHBUseDnkJ8Zx2hv6UzNcwU229-51ztfBDQxiNK2WLAsu_IKeZySpGV02BKAvGzxBZx9=w400-h268" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Hanging out with the Phrygians<br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><p style="text-align: justify;">Our time in New Zealand started with two weeks in MIQ, spent in a fancy five-star hotel in central Auckland. It was a surprisingly comfortable gilded cage, with three top-notch meals a day, satellite TV, internet and a pile of books on my Kindle to keep me occupied. When we were released, it was into a New Zealand's worst outbreak of coronavirus so far, and we couldn't go north of Auckland as we had hoped to do, at least until the weather warmed up. Instead we spent chunks of time in both Hamilton and Papamoa with very accommodating friends of Terri's. We used the time to get vaccinated (something we couldn't do in Indonesia) and to work on our campervan, a Nissan Elgrand that Terri had bought and partially outfitted the year before when she was trapped in NZ by the first wave of the pandemic. We added solar panels, a roof box, a side awning and a tent that hangs under the awning, providing a lot more living space. It took us a while to get used to living out of Edmund, but a few weeks of ambling slowly down the east coast of the North Island, camping beside beautiful shorelines and trying our hands at fishing (unsuccessfully) and gathering shellfish (more successfully) got us used to it. We eventually made our way to Gisborne, Terri's hometown, and sat out an apocalyptic rainstorm that lasted for days and flooded out sections of the city. We picked up speed as we headed south, doing more hiking in the Tararua Range and along the south coast of the North Island, cycling parts of the Remutaka Rail Trail and then taking refuge in Wellington at the home of Terri's sister Karen, where we visited the magical bird sanctuary of Zealandia and got ready for the bigger adventures to come on the South Island.</p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEh2UJRVZ8hvJvrTbMfk-gQlG_emW9-5tnyiU9w0gIo_OKoDv7BeMHYbMxsUc2G8X-sGjmRg3MZ24FkUlMrwR5lgrze-9QaQPNprRTqAHxYi-Rg-tKDgNRfTEKVnuxg1mxvkeX-610NHNZMyHreU0J4lNPpPAYUlUNe1NMSDOJccpkRI51ZQWpJhfnBQ=s1000" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="667" data-original-width="1000" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEh2UJRVZ8hvJvrTbMfk-gQlG_emW9-5tnyiU9w0gIo_OKoDv7BeMHYbMxsUc2G8X-sGjmRg3MZ24FkUlMrwR5lgrze-9QaQPNprRTqAHxYi-Rg-tKDgNRfTEKVnuxg1mxvkeX-610NHNZMyHreU0J4lNPpPAYUlUNe1NMSDOJccpkRI51ZQWpJhfnBQ=w400-h266" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Atop Mt. Holdsworth<br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEg5qtb7VAKbiFnVRUJLlPO_1tJotjpOCGH7LYw0aB9s0NEW2eiqf001jJBns9StYN9_uCKSEq4G0jufRnjjonsEdooHibOxjX-PZh5kU3hUkn2BaZ4vzY6rjR8jHMTFqyJwAzSiHvTe5012Ehw8YX30TRV_9zFXtgMBZze_K9j8LlXlq36Lm3_FBEdj=s1000" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="667" data-original-width="1000" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEg5qtb7VAKbiFnVRUJLlPO_1tJotjpOCGH7LYw0aB9s0NEW2eiqf001jJBns9StYN9_uCKSEq4G0jufRnjjonsEdooHibOxjX-PZh5kU3hUkn2BaZ4vzY6rjR8jHMTFqyJwAzSiHvTe5012Ehw8YX30TRV_9zFXtgMBZze_K9j8LlXlq36Lm3_FBEdj=w400-h266" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Terri on a precipitous slope near Castlepoint<br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><p style="text-align: justify;"><br /></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgmjjkmheW4sc4HTsb0qkZAX-453pMlINrGC7MM80wtqL-Ov1qExtSLG9193IWKb3lbS2aE2VOlWT3o6ftUA7RhWbMUcck1s7V6ykjRAPQqZV5mMsN6EJgWEp6Kqj-M8oQLIGUGr-ZB0HG8pCmIIAdHsvL6Tw1hSDiiWwk3NwfLYUwcaSFUEF0Y8CFk=s1000" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="667" data-original-width="1000" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgmjjkmheW4sc4HTsb0qkZAX-453pMlINrGC7MM80wtqL-Ov1qExtSLG9193IWKb3lbS2aE2VOlWT3o6ftUA7RhWbMUcck1s7V6ykjRAPQqZV5mMsN6EJgWEp6Kqj-M8oQLIGUGr-ZB0HG8pCmIIAdHsvL6Tw1hSDiiWwk3NwfLYUwcaSFUEF0Y8CFk=w400-h266" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Duck family, Lake Tutiru<br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiwoy0qXIDWI9kBeq_hgusft0EpZ3mI0nObzxBAV1TN8KUDOHX3EaPu6fpDeNGPSsUIIS_sp7KYVM1TIUdpUqiObIzDgVtaX7nckGAr-7hcFUGJC1baT5KSSN5nJ7XdWqYkBQl-dzKYk4r0Mc0sjlPZpAAsbCPDIsvr-cU2gq3dZ6ICOTEip6hOl_vf=s1000" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="667" data-original-width="1000" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiwoy0qXIDWI9kBeq_hgusft0EpZ3mI0nObzxBAV1TN8KUDOHX3EaPu6fpDeNGPSsUIIS_sp7KYVM1TIUdpUqiObIzDgVtaX7nckGAr-7hcFUGJC1baT5KSSN5nJ7XdWqYkBQl-dzKYk4r0Mc0sjlPZpAAsbCPDIsvr-cU2gq3dZ6ICOTEip6hOl_vf=w400-h266" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">New Zealand scaup</td></tr></tbody></table><div><br /></div><p style="text-align: justify;">We crossed over to the South Island on the ferry at the very end of November, and came quite directly down to Fiordland, in the southwest corner of the island. We were lucky to take advantage of lots of cancellations to get bookings on the Kepler, Milford and Routeburn tracks, iconic multi-day treks that are usually well-nigh impossible to get onto (covid does have its occasional advantages). The trekking has been spectacular, and we are now keen to do many more long walks through the spectacular scenery of this magical part of New Zealand. The plan is to spend at least two more months on the South Island until I (probably; it's so hard to plan anything in advance these days!) go to Switzerland in late March to spend time with my mother, who's living with my sister and her family in my old stomping ground of Leysin. </p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEj6VuCAkDQnz29V13ukiAklFgqdwZRJIW9pnCNm0ZgBPUYIudTXObrjFNlyj7C4usiWTuCMzsLaDCFiWOa57_NcNmyGIiZs2TjNG7PuIOj8HeYV6PcOKU8o9yaq0XSDfIavRFqd-1LQU3CzTPgM3fP668Igmls_UpS5ItZsgWetKPWI0qZk0xier0dv=s1000" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="667" data-original-width="1000" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEj6VuCAkDQnz29V13ukiAklFgqdwZRJIW9pnCNm0ZgBPUYIudTXObrjFNlyj7C4usiWTuCMzsLaDCFiWOa57_NcNmyGIiZs2TjNG7PuIOj8HeYV6PcOKU8o9yaq0XSDfIavRFqd-1LQU3CzTPgM3fP668Igmls_UpS5ItZsgWetKPWI0qZk0xier0dv=w400-h266" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Kepler Track<br /><br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjrU0IKN5xNzjQ0hIabcCn0FToCXQ7gTlPH75LgXMegXcN0b61EV7tvHzDWi8jW3Kbgh24Sq6PBQsCmmDfrFMjxgURCZczstt5WIOpBtw26Srv80noI_vb9iAYrBMp0_1w1GP7vxyQTWLaG99TnCOV01HEEOSunE9mulYtOvLDiKEGeOKnIAFIGS98Y=s1000" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="667" data-original-width="1000" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjrU0IKN5xNzjQ0hIabcCn0FToCXQ7gTlPH75LgXMegXcN0b61EV7tvHzDWi8jW3Kbgh24Sq6PBQsCmmDfrFMjxgURCZczstt5WIOpBtw26Srv80noI_vb9iAYrBMp0_1w1GP7vxyQTWLaG99TnCOV01HEEOSunE9mulYtOvLDiKEGeOKnIAFIGS98Y=w400-h266" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Whio (blue duck), Milford Track<br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEggBUweZ4ILC7TRhtk1cV1KsQV76DpKW8ie2QERBJmW_YaX74B1ovD16p2uNssz2FAdSq0l5DwN2p8T96dUaF9XnkToWPdK-ltVom9whVRWF2zom-jUekLNmHiP56aaKQAXCkbixynmK56ykDdzyYxxlbeJI--g2IZIfVjBC710QJuFMVrJ7Ce9ahPB=s1000" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="667" data-original-width="1000" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEggBUweZ4ILC7TRhtk1cV1KsQV76DpKW8ie2QERBJmW_YaX74B1ovD16p2uNssz2FAdSq0l5DwN2p8T96dUaF9XnkToWPdK-ltVom9whVRWF2zom-jUekLNmHiP56aaKQAXCkbixynmK56ykDdzyYxxlbeJI--g2IZIfVjBC710QJuFMVrJ7Ce9ahPB=w400-h266" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Unusual fungus, Kepler Track<br /><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiL7syS1S2cLXbV26nr0VJjyelG89FI5B-R08ntvbR2wNBiCxCY4lECc73F96wk6S9HE1JiDq5yy3RjCSppkiBQjcOebgzivVavI1v7jG_Y8dMIUviwzwYHXNe4DFWIYutEVPETAlqn4qnuFei0dpFKIUwkz8vncU7wEUgW1gxFEOEZFGoMUKNh8sm1=s1000" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="667" data-original-width="1000" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiL7syS1S2cLXbV26nr0VJjyelG89FI5B-R08ntvbR2wNBiCxCY4lECc73F96wk6S9HE1JiDq5yy3RjCSppkiBQjcOebgzivVavI1v7jG_Y8dMIUviwzwYHXNe4DFWIYutEVPETAlqn4qnuFei0dpFKIUwkz8vncU7wEUgW1gxFEOEZFGoMUKNh8sm1=w400-h266" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Cheeky kea, Milford Track<br /><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEifzdd8cBAYVDVKXkSzKPnTCOtSolJgA4561eQG7-A1vwF1jNTSVSEpDZMeQeyWQ5C4Dxo-KNXhaAQDtf1ZZYzdVVlDh7Jw78zF8e2q1-wlmi7FdnhVWJSBmD3NEJlr3ImQZzvSjHLKgsiyJMoOjFuHgY5qdi3NCNM2fuSb42WsvTGhFm1mX8mBaJci=s1000" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="667" data-original-width="1000" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEifzdd8cBAYVDVKXkSzKPnTCOtSolJgA4561eQG7-A1vwF1jNTSVSEpDZMeQeyWQ5C4Dxo-KNXhaAQDtf1ZZYzdVVlDh7Jw78zF8e2q1-wlmi7FdnhVWJSBmD3NEJlr3ImQZzvSjHLKgsiyJMoOjFuHgY5qdi3NCNM2fuSb42WsvTGhFm1mX8mBaJci=w400-h266" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">McKinnon Pass, Milford Track<br /><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjtEOAQEqRuDk8JCtbaV7m8gBZGxK3Q2YElTBYVh5prVRRjVb4uOsCN5EqjZxxNMGwqgjlLVOwA1TTjXAXd61iDR9oQQS2CozvnkH8HSA6IJZcfTiK2NiTW2na1fX10hEW5uqcUCocdR1pNCYdjhkxg5P2btfAwO1YOgl1XQPvKVowsjJ8X_GqwVXwt=s1000" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="667" data-original-width="1000" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjtEOAQEqRuDk8JCtbaV7m8gBZGxK3Q2YElTBYVh5prVRRjVb4uOsCN5EqjZxxNMGwqgjlLVOwA1TTjXAXd61iDR9oQQS2CozvnkH8HSA6IJZcfTiK2NiTW2na1fX10hEW5uqcUCocdR1pNCYdjhkxg5P2btfAwO1YOgl1XQPvKVowsjJ8X_GqwVXwt=w400-h266" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Terri and I atop the McKinnon Pass, Milford Track<br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table></td></tr></tbody></table><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><span style="text-align: justify;">I hope that all of you who are reading this summary of a year spent waiting for the pandemic to end have had your own adventures and accomplishments to look back on. I also hope that 2022 ends up being a more "normal" year in which international travel becomes easier and less painful. I wish all of you Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year!</span><p style="text-align: justify;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><br /></p><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjeCebwXr5exFQgEzWhs8zBUvQ23bViMfTPRu4BjlYG1KHv-o900KKnGFdW3YVUP0oi8T_cuv6nYXPudiTZMg5DC4zCnQHxlLDdGA9HhwhxPWLqCyngrrX6VrAVKnkSYRdnKW7Rq_6QH18mvLmBA9-6Lr7pfGkzaOHHakE-jw516l8mutqudoCoTqsE=s1000" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="667" data-original-width="1000" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjeCebwXr5exFQgEzWhs8zBUvQ23bViMfTPRu4BjlYG1KHv-o900KKnGFdW3YVUP0oi8T_cuv6nYXPudiTZMg5DC4zCnQHxlLDdGA9HhwhxPWLqCyngrrX6VrAVKnkSYRdnKW7Rq_6QH18mvLmBA9-6Lr7pfGkzaOHHakE-jw516l8mutqudoCoTqsE=w640-h426" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Happy on a cruise around Milford Sound, New Zealand</td></tr></tbody></table><br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-635211973012255844.post-66048360464794306482021-10-29T00:46:00.009-07:002022-08-16T05:58:19.008-07:00Trotting Around Turkey (Retrospective from August, 2021)<!--Google tag (gtag.js)-->
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<p> </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-CA" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: medium; mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;">It’s been
more than 2 months since Terri and I headed off from Bali to Turkey for a
three-week exploration of that country. We had to do this since we were not
allowed to transit through Singapore to reach New Zealand if we had been in
Indonesia (then a covid-19 hotspot) within the previous 3 weeks, and Turkey was
one of the few countries that would let us in and which had direct flights from
Jakarta. We had to rearrange our flights to New Zealand and our highly coveted
and rare spots in New Zealand’s Managed Isolation and Quarantine (MIQ) system,
but luckily we had enough forewarning of the Singapore situation to get that
all done.</span></p><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7RhtyePZEeWgSxeevNWy6HGqdKF1AN8LRT_aAEOks1UlkJOH6robA8Mprgvm5V5DnJ3S2PD-UWKFLJuJ1L75da4Yy73hNIAYV0s6gk7JeSHETCNg0U2HWkCEBAhv5FKU1aU3ewZDRl9E/s1000/DSC_8524.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1000" data-original-width="668" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7RhtyePZEeWgSxeevNWy6HGqdKF1AN8LRT_aAEOks1UlkJOH6robA8Mprgvm5V5DnJ3S2PD-UWKFLJuJ1L75da4Yy73hNIAYV0s6gk7JeSHETCNg0U2HWkCEBAhv5FKU1aU3ewZDRl9E/w268-h400/DSC_8524.jpg" width="268" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Hittite statue, Ankara Museum<br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-size: medium;"><div style="text-align: justify;">So it was that on August 12<sup>th</sup> we found ourselves arriving at the crack of dawn into Istanbul’s vast new airport and then catching an onward flight to Ankara.
Istanbul airport was notably quiet, but our Ankara flight was fairly full. We
caught a taxi into the centre of town and settled into a shabby hotel in the
old town of Ankara. It was my fourth trip to Turkey, after previous visits in
1994, 2008 and <a href="https://silkroadride.blogspot.com/2009/10/" target="_blank">2009</a>, but I hadn’t been back to Ankara since that first 1994
trip and I was amazed at how much the city has grown, sprawling outward over
the outlying hills in endless serried ranks of mid-rise apartment blocks.</div><o:p></o:p></span><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-CA" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: medium; mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;">Our plan was
to rent a car for the duration of our trip, but we had had difficulty finding a
reasonably-priced rental online or at Ankara airport, so we spent part of that
day pounding the pavement on Libya Caddesi, home to more than a dozen local car
rental firms, eventually turning up a promising rental for 4900 Turkish lira
(TL), or about 490 euros, for 18 days. We shook hands on the deal, but didn’t
sign anything, and were mildly apprehensive that we would turn up in two days’
time to find no car waiting for us.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-CA" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-CA" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;"><br /></span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHansAMLHxEOPK_YmtY79-LXPsqtOhHmtMAb59TL0dFGhZVmknKbv_-keOBkhZZ1TrCgY80oJmT_TKSDu1-vC-Sh_9REtVRkUIv8yyLweLlEfwVdKtWR_NveQS_TmimPVLuvKXsn9uPlU/s1000/DSC_8537.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1000" data-original-width="667" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHansAMLHxEOPK_YmtY79-LXPsqtOhHmtMAb59TL0dFGhZVmknKbv_-keOBkhZZ1TrCgY80oJmT_TKSDu1-vC-Sh_9REtVRkUIv8yyLweLlEfwVdKtWR_NveQS_TmimPVLuvKXsn9uPlU/w266-h400/DSC_8537.jpg" width="266" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Hittite grave goods from Alaca Hoyuk</td></tr></tbody></table><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-CA" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: medium; mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;">The Turkish
lira has been sliding steadily against major currencies for a few years,
largely a result of some idiosyncratic economic policies pursued by Turkey’s
populist autocratic leader Recep Tayyip Erdogan. It’s now at 10 lira to the
euro, one fifth of its value in 2008 and 2009. On my first trip to Turkey in
1994, the old lira had just collapsed in value from 7000 to 30,000 to the US
dollar and hotels, food and transport were ridiculously inexpensive for me. In
2008 and 2009 Turkey was noticeably more expensive, probably the same price or
more expensive than neighbouring Greece. This time around it was 1994 all over
again, with food and fuel ridiculous bargains for those of us fortunate enough
to have hard currency to exchange; I suspect that for ordinary Turks earning
salaries in lira, the country is still really expensive. (I was told that 90
lira, or 9 euros, is a typical daily wage for retail workers and waiters in
Turkey these days, and it has to be hard to survive on that sort of salary.) We
went for a lavish late lunch after our car rental expedition, feasting on
varieties of grilled meat and a profusion of salads and bread for 150 lira,
before returning to our hotel for a jet-lag-induced nap.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-CA" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: medium; mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;"><br /></span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjg-2s7MK39ebaW6HwJ74pmELoVpFKwLNSGHjgJ9LWU2zPzyv4hD62-XyKGsJeo2-EkMIQhg9s4GuMRnZieE5io1MZkko7MWJWmOdemU7EcisFKUwXQMw8TIGO6AGeWpiOF9Zeeob7Nnl0/s1000/DSC_8554.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1000" data-original-width="667" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjg-2s7MK39ebaW6HwJ74pmELoVpFKwLNSGHjgJ9LWU2zPzyv4hD62-XyKGsJeo2-EkMIQhg9s4GuMRnZieE5io1MZkko7MWJWmOdemU7EcisFKUwXQMw8TIGO6AGeWpiOF9Zeeob7Nnl0/w266-h400/DSC_8554.jpg" width="266" /></span></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Cuneiform letter</span></td></tr></tbody></table><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-CA" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: medium; mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;">We spent a
full day prowling around Ankara the next day, playing tourist. The highlight
was the epic Museum of Anatolian Civilizations, full of artistic treasures from
Catal Hoyuk, Alaca Hoyuk and Kultepe (three places we were about to visit) and
Carchemish and Urartu (which we weren’t going to see). The museum is really
well laid out, with striking display cases full of bronze, gold, pottery and
wall paintings, and we were almost overwhelmed with the sheer volume of
information and the profusion of sites. We also checked out the castle district
just above the museum (decrepit, but full of atmosphere and with great views
over the urban ocean of Ankara and its 6 million inhabitants) and the
underwhelming Roman ruins of the Temple of Augustus (hidden behind a popular
historic mosque) and the Baths of Caracalla (really just a field of ruins). <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-CA" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: medium; mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;">The next
morning we arrived at the car rental place to find that our car wasn’t there.
This was, however, not entirely the fault of the owner of the agency, as the
day before the previous renter had totalled the car in a spectacular highway
crash. He set us up with a car for the same price at an agency just down the
street and by 12:30 we were driving away from Ankara (a rather hair-raising
experience given the big-city traffic), headed east towards the ancient Hittite
capital of Hattusa. Once we were out of the metropolis, traffic was relatively
light and driving got a lot easier.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-CA" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: medium; mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-CA" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: medium; mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;"><b>Hanging With The Hittites</b></span></p>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFcj1eK0lVOinAJkVEMk2YaPO_JgJL2KhyphenhyphenApTlm3ybCmPs4mLVgBdpNymnDB0CaXCWnlshlRlCqA-uqk7kX8TR8PpvfJaQzM0wZ8HXAk3y93k0lBTwVm_dCuY-WcQwmB9EVJW1Sno04zU/s1000/DSC_8603.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><img border="0" data-original-height="667" data-original-width="1000" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFcj1eK0lVOinAJkVEMk2YaPO_JgJL2KhyphenhyphenApTlm3ybCmPs4mLVgBdpNymnDB0CaXCWnlshlRlCqA-uqk7kX8TR8PpvfJaQzM0wZ8HXAk3y93k0lBTwVm_dCuY-WcQwmB9EVJW1Sno04zU/w400-h266/DSC_8603.jpg" width="400" /></span></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Lion Gate, Hattusa</span></td></tr></tbody></table><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: medium;">I have been
fascinated by history and archaeology since I was quite young. I once took a
course in high school, taught by the redoubtable Mrs. Schindelhauer, called
Origins of Culture, that combined archaeology, ancient history, linguistics and
mythology. I loved the course, and many of the cultures we studied still
fascinate me. I don’t remember whether the Hittites were on our curriculum, but
if they weren’t, they should have been. The Hittites were one of the big boys
on the Bronze Age block in the ancient Near East in the second millennium BC,
and maintained an extensive network of trade networks with the Egyptians, the
Assyrians, the Mitanni and the Mycenaean Greeks. I had never visited any of
their historical sites, and so I was looking forward to Hattusa.</span></p>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPBK4YTRuGFsFXDurs1vho6rGmjMOWtpbOsPJ0LIJCrwGHxuJUlSmVhcI_2HBou6i0bwKRXFr0-fgwGlw8rcSFPGEhKrrkbKIVGZHEsatCBWX_JXmJkntEx0H48_ioxy8qHuwDby9LPZo/s1000/DSC_8616.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1000" data-original-width="667" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPBK4YTRuGFsFXDurs1vho6rGmjMOWtpbOsPJ0LIJCrwGHxuJUlSmVhcI_2HBou6i0bwKRXFr0-fgwGlw8rcSFPGEhKrrkbKIVGZHEsatCBWX_JXmJkntEx0H48_ioxy8qHuwDby9LPZo/w266-h400/DSC_8616.jpg" width="266" /></span></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Postern Gate, Hattusa</span></td></tr></tbody></table><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-CA" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: medium; mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;">When we
arrived there mid-afternoon, I was blown away. Bronze Age sites are often just
mounds, full of interesting bits of pottery but offering much less to the
imagination than a classical Roman or Greek city. Hattusa was not like this.
For one thing, it’s huge, requiring a car to get around the sprawling ruins
that climb up the rocky hillside. We drove steeply uphill, past ruins that we
would return to later, arriving at the Lion Gate, one of the principal
entrances into the city. The impressive city wall has been reconstructed,
running many hundreds of metres uphill, and the Lion Gate punctured the wall in
the characteristic parabolic style of Hittite entrances. There were two lions
flanking the entrance, facing outward to impress arriving visitors; one had
been extensively reconstructed, but the other seemed original. The gateway was
as impressive as many Egyptian entranceways, and set the stage for what was to
come.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-CA" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: medium; mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;">More steep
driving uphill brought us to the apex of the city wall and the Sphinx Gate. The
sphinxes on either side of the entranceway were impressive (and rather Egyptian
in style), but the postern gate was far more striking. This consisted of a long
underground tunnel passing below the wall for a good fifty metres of darkness
before emerging at the foot of a steep stone glacis flanking the Sphinx Gate.
It’s not clear whether this was supposed to be some sort of security feature or
whether the engineering was supposed to awe visitors from far away; all the
Hittite cities we visited seemed to have a similar postern gate. </span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYkZz41vGENnRIQCXukgvp3-UB1CvZqGunMF_CjQP97rVJbsFVMaVB-VaV5gFdcmLjwxm9ahR9aScIQ7j1lB6exN8Sd9ooxlyojJ2vMZtnmetID4ego8dqd1X0Z6RD1xR4vURwY_ebMzY/s1000/DSC_8639.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1000" data-original-width="667" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYkZz41vGENnRIQCXukgvp3-UB1CvZqGunMF_CjQP97rVJbsFVMaVB-VaV5gFdcmLjwxm9ahR9aScIQ7j1lB6exN8Sd9ooxlyojJ2vMZtnmetID4ego8dqd1X0Z6RD1xR4vURwY_ebMzY/w266-h400/DSC_8639.jpg" width="266" /></span></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">King Gate, Hattusa</span></td></tr></tbody></table><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-CA" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: medium; mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;">We clambered
around happily, then drove down the opposite side of the ancient wall to
another parabolic doorway, the King’s Gate, featuring a figure in a short kilt
flanking the gap in the wall; it’s not clear whether this was a king or a
depiction of a god. We took more photos, then continued downhill past a large
series of temples (Hattusa was said to have more than thirty temples, each
dedicated to a different divinity). As we returned to the level of the
surrounding countryside, we saw a replica of what archaeologists think the city
walls looked like when they were standing, and found a section of Bronze Age
city street leading to the largest temple in the entire city. It really gave me
the feeling of walking through a Bronze Age city, and was perhaps the most
atmospheric part of the entire ruins. We left with a keen sense of what a
large, imposing city Hattusa must have been in its heyday 3400 years ago.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-CA" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: medium; mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-CA" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: medium; mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-CA" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: medium; mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-CA" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: medium; mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;"></span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmCbZmm-R-2Tw9WC53hmjsteR2TO5j3Gv7xuQ5YTverUkB6p5oMfaYQL47S0RHG-6O0E6s_HRBf7ByRjju4MklUQ6blK3t1dJjtBS4TlZkb26dN7KNtrsg4mgsWiChwSIJw-nzOiySL-8/s1000/DSC_8656.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><img border="0" data-original-height="667" data-original-width="1000" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmCbZmm-R-2Tw9WC53hmjsteR2TO5j3Gv7xuQ5YTverUkB6p5oMfaYQL47S0RHG-6O0E6s_HRBf7ByRjju4MklUQ6blK3t1dJjtBS4TlZkb26dN7KNtrsg4mgsWiChwSIJw-nzOiySL-8/w400-h266/DSC_8656.jpg" width="400" /></span></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Hittite paved street, lower city of Hattusa<br /><br /></span></td></tr></tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixPzpeQZY6Hwg9yB8otHT9aw3k52hd6v4LfKdNsR7vSxxpjUk_CopH9_qP7N6onbzcQ4dKmJ8y0hFeYI3-jN2MwpyO9ek7WKklbftNHYEA-Oc74gc96mh75z7l2wKFWOgzA16iWAG802o/s1000/DSC_8673.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1000" data-original-width="667" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixPzpeQZY6Hwg9yB8otHT9aw3k52hd6v4LfKdNsR7vSxxpjUk_CopH9_qP7N6onbzcQ4dKmJ8y0hFeYI3-jN2MwpyO9ek7WKklbftNHYEA-Oc74gc96mh75z7l2wKFWOgzA16iWAG802o/w266-h400/DSC_8673.jpg" width="266" /></span></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Hittite relief, Yazilikaya</span></td></tr></tbody></table><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-CA" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: medium; mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;">Before
driving off, we visited a nearby site, Yazilikaya, which seems to have been a
ritual centre. It features a number of carved reliefs, mostly of gods and
kings, that reminded me strongly in style and composition of the Achaemenid
Persian carvings I saw in Iran back in 2009. The antiquity of the art and its
technical skill were both impressive. We got back into the car exuberant with
our first exposure to Hittite culture, and drove north towards Alaca Hoyuk in
search of a place to camp. We followed directions in the iOverlander app to a
spot on the edge of a farmer’s field, set up our tent and cooked dinner under
the stars, happy with our first day of exploring Turkey.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-CA" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: medium; mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;">The next
morning’s activities got off to a delayed start when we arrived at Alaca
Hoyuk’s gate to find that Terri had misplaced her glasses. We retraced our route
5 km back to our campsite, searched around there, then drove back towards the
ruins, watching the road, since we suspected that the glasses had been left on
the roof. Sure enough, we found the glasses on the road, halfway back to Alaca
Hoyuk. Sadly, they had been run over, and one of the lenses had completely
disappeared. </span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEict7CiNzdEnpXHAgMMnud-UXlatRRWtvGWl8mQrzO2SRCg9WSMz4wOP99xF8esbIZBeUtYFjLtEeb6cJJH2-7NmvmB63dPmibKG-OIvKJV2ZYmDS5wiy28jj3YEVllFulHD6dMUihYK-c/s1000/DSC_8677.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1000" data-original-width="667" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEict7CiNzdEnpXHAgMMnud-UXlatRRWtvGWl8mQrzO2SRCg9WSMz4wOP99xF8esbIZBeUtYFjLtEeb6cJJH2-7NmvmB63dPmibKG-OIvKJV2ZYmDS5wiy28jj3YEVllFulHD6dMUihYK-c/w266-h400/DSC_8677.jpg" width="266" /></span></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Sphinx Gate, Alaca Hoyuk</span></td></tr></tbody></table><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-CA" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: medium; mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;">After that ill-omened beginning, Alaca Hoyuk was a wonderful
followup to Hattusa. It’s a much more compact site, basically a large mound,
but has its own sphinx gate and subterranean postern gate (with a right-angled
turn in it, making it even darker and spookier than the one at Hattusa). There
are grain silos, foundations of temples and several cool reliefs, including one
of the king sacrificing, and another of a musician and two acrobats in action.
The main attraction, though, were the pre-Hittite Early Bronze Age tombs that
were excavated below the Hittite layers. They have been reconstructed and
filled with replicas of the grave goods that were found (we had seen the
originals in the Ankara museum a couple of days before), and give a real
feeling for the funerary customs of the time. All the tombs are oriented the
same way, with a body found in the same corner of each tomb, lying on the same
side of the body in each case. The grave goods included a few bronze statues of
deer (or bulls?) that are striking and are often used as symbols for the entire
Hittite civilization.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-CA" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: medium; mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-CA" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: medium; mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-CA" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: medium; mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;"></span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqOKmtF05wEgfk8oDpAT11YYKOgqmCOJ1keLQnbOcVO24Z-qDNDKOPnKPQZmafSbLCmRJXuw3J1Madg-RTP1I4C7woAhLf9pSgfihTVgrx31DqRk3jRqTzsc0nGcy5UpQlz0iRE3SWjWg/s1000/DSC_8702.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><img border="0" data-original-height="667" data-original-width="1000" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqOKmtF05wEgfk8oDpAT11YYKOgqmCOJ1keLQnbOcVO24Z-qDNDKOPnKPQZmafSbLCmRJXuw3J1Madg-RTP1I4C7woAhLf9pSgfihTVgrx31DqRk3jRqTzsc0nGcy5UpQlz0iRE3SWjWg/w400-h266/DSC_8702.jpg" width="400" /></span></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Early Bronze Age grave (reconstruction), Alaca Hoyuk<br /><br /></span></td></tr></tbody></table><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-CA" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: medium; mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;"></span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivQXGY1FDqs6BfN2MB3oooLZMzofZELqs22TZkSs5Xp9xSZAcrnzIOp5i3sntFJ4c4h5cI-x7uk3LZqiWUI6F9WD9OQyfzA7p6-JcujjN9DQrX1ooBwOLoeznFuMr9_FRNVkZcgW7CosE/s1000/DSC_8711.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><img border="0" data-original-height="667" data-original-width="1000" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivQXGY1FDqs6BfN2MB3oooLZMzofZELqs22TZkSs5Xp9xSZAcrnzIOp5i3sntFJ4c4h5cI-x7uk3LZqiWUI6F9WD9OQyfzA7p6-JcujjN9DQrX1ooBwOLoeznFuMr9_FRNVkZcgW7CosE/w400-h266/DSC_8711.jpg" width="400" /></span></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Relief of musician and acrobats, Alaca Hoyuk<br /><br /></span></td></tr></tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-o1O6CFNFv-NDAoSt819emAPF81dZ9jk8BtSS73hDqmjgv3lsD5ru_SkWmrBTeECZjvMphD_mzKBwKgar8my81U9hrY8ZzP2naVbN-TKfiiWIxz1QfR44-D9Ru-5BZzGps6fNSZIzIqw/s1000/DSC_8715.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><img border="0" data-original-height="667" data-original-width="1000" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-o1O6CFNFv-NDAoSt819emAPF81dZ9jk8BtSS73hDqmjgv3lsD5ru_SkWmrBTeECZjvMphD_mzKBwKgar8my81U9hrY8ZzP2naVbN-TKfiiWIxz1QfR44-D9Ru-5BZzGps6fNSZIzIqw/w400-h266/DSC_8715.jpg" width="400" /></span></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Alisar Hoyuk<br /><br /></span></td></tr></tbody></table><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-CA" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: medium; mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;">From Alaca
Hoyuk we drove to nearby Alaca town and spent a frustrating time trying to buy “ispirto”,
which we thought was white fuel for camping stoves but which proved to be
methylated spirits (which don’t burn well in my MSR stove). We also tried to
buy gasoline to burn in the stove, but were informed that for security reasons,
the gas station was not allowed to sell fuel in separated containers (?!?). In
the process, we ended up buying a portable charcoal grill which ended up
serving us very well for the rest of the trip, as well as some pretty dire
Turkish wine. Our next destination was Alisar Hoyuk, another Hittite site, but when
we got there, we couldn’t find the archaeological site. We sat in a grove of
trees and had a picnic while I searched on Google Earth for anything that
looked like a mound. I found it, on the other side of the main highway from
where we had turned off, and we backtracked to find a completely unmarked,
unmaintained mound that had been excavated in the past, as witnessed by deep
trenches cut into the ground. The soil was covered in potsherds, and Terri
found what we thought was probably a Neolithic scraper for scraping hides; it
fit into her hand with ergonomic perfection. We drove off towards the site of
Kayalipinar, but ominous rainclouds in the distance convinced us to cut our
trip short and we searched out a remote campsite at the edge of a farmer’s pasture.
It was an idyllic spot to set up our tent and grill up lamb chops on our new
hibachi.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-CA" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: medium; mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;"></span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMacvrs4cOibXxybWMS1dahi0ve09rf35GuyPZuEFOSO_ZF0NvhW81eObdMXztPBbzdTgkRGaZ-K_Izy_1vVha8An6-4QzPiGR7fSME7HUwv3vhgvpWuKVwCdln0qFFpsk3hbnTJAmn6U/s1000/DSC_8721.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><img border="0" data-original-height="667" data-original-width="1000" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMacvrs4cOibXxybWMS1dahi0ve09rf35GuyPZuEFOSO_ZF0NvhW81eObdMXztPBbzdTgkRGaZ-K_Izy_1vVha8An6-4QzPiGR7fSME7HUwv3vhgvpWuKVwCdln0qFFpsk3hbnTJAmn6U/w400-h266/DSC_8721.jpg" width="400" /></span></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Possible stone scraper, Alisar Hoyuk<br /><br /></span></td></tr></tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiC_NEU0Hn-dMrGYboD1aVjJImWZr-fitlxtAhsGOUh0bxW95jxgPUwkYIxl_JfAxWPfjTsd1oE0XTCWG3mrl3hu4ikVMpsGpj0rH82vfSGmuPzcG_Qs7xuW8Dqw4_YXgqM7S1brSwxQEE/s1000/DSC_8731.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><img border="0" data-original-height="667" data-original-width="1000" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiC_NEU0Hn-dMrGYboD1aVjJImWZr-fitlxtAhsGOUh0bxW95jxgPUwkYIxl_JfAxWPfjTsd1oE0XTCWG3mrl3hu4ikVMpsGpj0rH82vfSGmuPzcG_Qs7xuW8Dqw4_YXgqM7S1brSwxQEE/w400-h266/DSC_8731.jpg" width="400" /></span></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Kayalipinar</span></td></tr></tbody></table><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-CA" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: medium; mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;">The next
morning, as we were packing up after a leisurely breakfast, a farmer drove by
on the nearby dirt track, stopped and called out to us. We were worried that he
was going to scold us for camping on his land, but instead he welcomed us and
asked us to come to his house for breakfast. We explained (as best we could,
given a lack of common language) that we were about to leave, and thanked him
for his offer. A few minutes later he returned and gave us a loaf of bread and a
huge chunk of home-made cheese, the first of numerous examples of Turkish
hospitality that we would experience. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-CA" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: medium; mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;">It was a
long day of driving that day as we made progress towards the northeastern
corner of the country and the Kackar Mountains. Our first stop was at the ruins
of Kayalipinar, located in an idyllic valley whose irrigated green fields
contrasted vividly with the stark stony hills around. We discovered that this
was the Halys River, famous in classical history as the location of a decisive
battle between the Persians and the Lydians in which Croesus, King of Lydia,
misinterpreted the ambiguous words of the Delphic Oracle: “If you invade the
Persian Empire, you will destroy a great kingdom.” Only after his defeat did he
realize that he had destroyed his own great kingdom. Kayalipinar was another
Hittite city and, like Alisar, the site is completely abandoned. There wasn’t a
lot to see aside from the replica of a Hittite relief and something that looked
a lot like a filled-in postern gate. We gazed out across the farm fields and
tried to picture what the area must have been like in Hittite times. We also
did the first of a number of Facebook Live videos (a great idea by Terri),
showing off the area and talking briefly about its history.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhH-ZEIV9i-s-Hqcj_euNoqUN7wOZr67eTWIZr0S1j8HoZ5dvfiiNQfIZqGtlXqnamSC3QyV-in5x1sRatiEKzs792S04I4GdcQoVVzS-d9KM2UJ42FugLWKqOLPZeHNogL1VDYp-C_jJc/s1000/DSC_8734.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><img border="0" data-original-height="667" data-original-width="1000" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhH-ZEIV9i-s-Hqcj_euNoqUN7wOZr67eTWIZr0S1j8HoZ5dvfiiNQfIZqGtlXqnamSC3QyV-in5x1sRatiEKzs792S04I4GdcQoVVzS-d9KM2UJ42FugLWKqOLPZeHNogL1VDYp-C_jJc/w400-h266/DSC_8734.jpg" width="400" /></span></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">First distant view of the mountains of the Black Sea coast<br /><br /></span></td></tr></tbody></table><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-CA" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: medium; mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;">We left
Kayalipinar behind and drove further east into the hypermodern sprawl of Sivas,
one of the major cities of eastern Turkey. There were no historical sites to
see, but there was a supermarket, an ATM and a gas station to replenish our
cooler, our wallets and our fuel supply. We drove further east, past
wheatfields awaiting harvesting, through stark rock canyons, over a
2200-metre-high pass and finally onto a series of small back roads that
constituted a short cut to the Black Sea coast. Towards the end of the day we
came out along a narrow canyon which widened here and there enough to build a
few villages. At the edge of one of these oases, we found a perfect campsite
down beside the rushing river. We grilled chicken legs and fried up a vegetable
omelette over the coals of a driftwood campfire, and sat out under the stars,
soaking up the atmosphere.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-CA" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: medium; mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;"><b>The Mists of Kackar</b></span></p>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiK4VlVmCIpes9nQtYRKrVOJ1f1rWpSSRjI74rpei7xOvqPLjZj0YuY_aDz2nn9-LlhZn5uAC_-XJoSTMV57BEU-nLOAALs_btqJbIcyBMNIH2lksUx5DGgtDXZXkODZqC9rTVOzhMidPw/s1000/DSC_8745.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><img border="0" data-original-height="667" data-original-width="1000" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiK4VlVmCIpes9nQtYRKrVOJ1f1rWpSSRjI74rpei7xOvqPLjZj0YuY_aDz2nn9-LlhZn5uAC_-XJoSTMV57BEU-nLOAALs_btqJbIcyBMNIH2lksUx5DGgtDXZXkODZqC9rTVOzhMidPw/w400-h266/DSC_8745.jpg" width="400" /></span></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Fresco from Soumela Monastery</span></td></tr></tbody></table><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-CA" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: medium; mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;">We drove
further through narrow canyons and over high passes the next morning before
finally popping out over one final pass onto the descent towards the major city
of Trabzon. The weather changed at the top, and we drove into fog and mist. At
the crest of the pass we stopped to buy honey and nuts and pastries from a
vendor who had travelled several times to Georgia, and who threw in a big bag
of delicious plums for free. We descended along a road that had suddenly turned
into a major divided highway, and turned off for the uphill sidetrip to Soumela
Monastery.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZINvhtohQGgpy2MylvRt1Q5m76FaImXtX5nuwhMo1IzKqd0yUwtRPVtAfCRHIESme13r0FBOodJHdLcpMirsK2Nih8FuDZ9kN0PeE4zLg9OgAvf7F0anaZu-zeLoBDWe5fhP0fMo70Z4/s1000/DSC_8756.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1000" data-original-width="667" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZINvhtohQGgpy2MylvRt1Q5m76FaImXtX5nuwhMo1IzKqd0yUwtRPVtAfCRHIESme13r0FBOodJHdLcpMirsK2Nih8FuDZ9kN0PeE4zLg9OgAvf7F0anaZu-zeLoBDWe5fhP0fMo70Z4/w266-h400/DSC_8756.jpg" width="266" /></span></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Soumela Monastery in the omnipresent mist</span></td></tr></tbody></table><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-CA" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: medium; mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;">I had
wanted to visit this site, one of the most famous Greek Orthodox monasteries in
the world, for decades, ever since I saw pictures of it in National Geographic.
It is the most famous tourist attraction along Turkey’s Black Sea coast and as
such it was absolutely crawling with Turkish domestic tourists. We parked in a
vast carpark and caught a shuttle bus up into the mist before disembarking and
walking along a short hiking trail to the monastery. It’s a surprisingly small
place inside; most of the complex is dormitories for the monks, rising some six
stories high and clinging to the precipitous cliffs, but only one part of one
floor of the dormitories is open to the public. There are two small churches
and a tiny chapel in the courtyard behind, and that’s about it. With the vast
throng of tourists, it was very crowded and it was hard to get a sense of the
serenity or isolation that must have been features of the monastery when it was
in operation. The monks left, along with most of the Greek inhabitants of
Turkey, during the great population exchange<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>in 1923 following the Greek invasion of Turkey just after the end of
World War One. The monastery is run now as a cultural museum, so there was none
of the incense-wreathed atmosphere of an active Orthodox church. On the way
out, we diverted a few hundred metres to a subsidiary monastery which provided
us with the iconic view of Soumela playing peek-a-boo with us through the
curtains of mist.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7P3MgYI-XFGn9MbT4viIPBjSjbNguVaVj2fw_pBXfrvYY-It0R2neV-Pnp3yhZ3ipmlbjYVKPEJaUKA6lIpf491RJQ7rpVnNB2-sPR5DmNLe6EDZ31YKm0myVO3vGJxyE6qXoYoZ6TIQ/s1000/DSC_8753.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><img border="0" data-original-height="667" data-original-width="1000" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7P3MgYI-XFGn9MbT4viIPBjSjbNguVaVj2fw_pBXfrvYY-It0R2neV-Pnp3yhZ3ipmlbjYVKPEJaUKA6lIpf491RJQ7rpVnNB2-sPR5DmNLe6EDZ31YKm0myVO3vGJxyE6qXoYoZ6TIQ/w400-h266/DSC_8753.jpg" width="400" /></span></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Painted church facade, Soumela Monastery<br /><br /></span></td></tr></tbody></table><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: medium;">With that,
we retreated to the car and continued downhill towards Trabzon, a big city
packed with concrete apartment buildings. We continued along the motorway that
hugs the Black Sea shore, wondering why on earth this region is so popular with
Turkish holidaymakers. What little natural charm it once had has long since been
buried under concrete, with almost continuous urban sprawl along the coast,
lapping upwards high into the steep green hills that line the shore. There is a
lot of industrial development as well, and the towns seemed bereft of any
visible charm or atmosphere. There aren’t even any decent beaches that we could
see. We decided that finding a wild campsite would be impossible, and so we
opted for an inexpensive hotel, the Mori Sport Hotel, in Iyidere, partway
between Trabzon and Rize. It proved to be a great base, with comfortable rooms
and a big swimming pool. It felt good to shower after a few days of sleeping
rough, and we went out for a lavish supper of grilled meat that set us back 12
euros in total.</span></p>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpnxH_yKkmd4yeCpFdqo2hIdNWi6VXH3NzE8wITYbBKxJ4r86M_vVjQo43E9ZF-iNhPEu1SXb96J3kwobZs0mdRzJoyk6f2bHNYJ5kciI78XqjaY8GUNVD7ni31vXfAzcqosAcEY0uegg/s1000/DSC_8762.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><img border="0" data-original-height="667" data-original-width="1000" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpnxH_yKkmd4yeCpFdqo2hIdNWi6VXH3NzE8wITYbBKxJ4r86M_vVjQo43E9ZF-iNhPEu1SXb96J3kwobZs0mdRzJoyk6f2bHNYJ5kciI78XqjaY8GUNVD7ni31vXfAzcqosAcEY0uegg/w400-h266/DSC_8762.jpg" width="400" /></span></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">First hike in the Kackar Mountains<br /><br /></span></td></tr></tbody></table><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-CA" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: medium; mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;">From
Iyidere our route headed further east to the city of Rize, and then up a valley
towards the mountain resort town of Ayder. In Rize we stopped to top up on a
few groceries and were, for the first time, able to buy gasoline for my MSR
stove by showing my passport and having the details recorded for reporting to
the police. The road was wide and newly paved, perfect for tour buses. Ayder is
very much on the domestic tourism itineraries for this region, and the road was
lined with whitewater rafting outfits, tea plantations and big tourist
restaurants specializing in coach tours. </span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjw6GkeiWVsf1glW3yl6X-sr3ZwCSoKC6W3-D7jiPtppJC8LmfYlKWC9Ig5K_l2fs4xQ4aVP86-Mktqyp6xxmAawH9mVtHsFbOR6ZzO4RTUoBYoi0ExTkoDOhhyphenhyphenEipOQr-cywRbJvb8a0c/s1000/DSC_8768.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><img border="0" data-original-height="667" data-original-width="1000" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjw6GkeiWVsf1glW3yl6X-sr3ZwCSoKC6W3-D7jiPtppJC8LmfYlKWC9Ig5K_l2fs4xQ4aVP86-Mktqyp6xxmAawH9mVtHsFbOR6ZzO4RTUoBYoi0ExTkoDOhhyphenhyphenEipOQr-cywRbJvb8a0c/w400-h266/DSC_8768.jpg" width="400" /></span></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Gentian</span></td></tr></tbody></table><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-CA" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: medium; mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;">When we got to Ayder, it reminded me
of a down-market French ski resort, full of new hotels and with no parking to
be found. We ground our way uphill to the top end of the village and found (we
thought) a place to stay in a hotel that catered mostly to Arabic-speaking
guests. We decided that we would have breakfast while we waited for our room to
come free. It was a nice breakfast (omelette, sausages, olives, tea, bread) but
we were charged more for the breakfast (15 euros) than we had paid for a huge
supper the night before. To top it all off, it turned out that there was no
room at the inn either, and we ended up leaving our car parked in front of the
hotel while we caught a lift up to the end of the mountain road to do some
hiking, hoping that there would be a place available at a nearby hotel when we
came back later that afternoon.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEim2SnlzMHbcgSK8JKXYrVgTXY6l_7-8IAeCFEvNL9DoxnPnca45t9fgEGQzA1DZYdw8GRTtc_Ys_wx97_1bgyxqh3guNPDJ_eFHzj6UX_iaXZlwxTl1rHGbaDaHonnJCSm8boRD2SST9U/s1000/DSC_8776.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><img border="0" data-original-height="667" data-original-width="1000" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEim2SnlzMHbcgSK8JKXYrVgTXY6l_7-8IAeCFEvNL9DoxnPnca45t9fgEGQzA1DZYdw8GRTtc_Ys_wx97_1bgyxqh3guNPDJ_eFHzj6UX_iaXZlwxTl1rHGbaDaHonnJCSm8boRD2SST9U/w400-h266/DSC_8776.jpg" width="400" /></span></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption"><span style="font-size: medium;"> Segurigera orientalis<br /><br /></span></td></tr></tbody></table><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-CA" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: medium; mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;">We had
briefly contemplated driving our 2-wheel-drive low-clearance sedan up the road
towards Kavrun Yaylasi (Kavrun Meadows; “yayla” is the same word as the Kyrgyz
“jailoo”, a high-altitude grazing area for flocks that spend summers up there
and winters back down in the lowlands). As we bumped along an increasingly
steep, rutted and muddy track, we were glad that we were paying a few euros for
someone else to damage their minibus. It took nearly an hour to make it 10 km
and 1000 vertical metres uphill. We leapt out, shouldered daypacks and took off
for a few hours of hiking under sunny blue skies.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSPFngIilMLaOm9hVE7K981wbzl3Pj8sE08KEWgVuyy2EqXVDVgTK_Mt-JbKm5j_c1vONnhaBOP8RSfy39VTpe0AsJCD_qJeRllIbN7F9qYY62J7SRholGobp_vzYNugVD4-vqCYnCrhA/s1000/DSC_8784.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><img border="0" data-original-height="667" data-original-width="1000" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSPFngIilMLaOm9hVE7K981wbzl3Pj8sE08KEWgVuyy2EqXVDVgTK_Mt-JbKm5j_c1vONnhaBOP8RSfy39VTpe0AsJCD_qJeRllIbN7F9qYY62J7SRholGobp_vzYNugVD4-vqCYnCrhA/w400-h266/DSC_8784.jpg" width="400" /></span></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Maree on the trail in the Kackars<br /><br /></span></td></tr></tbody></table><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-CA" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: medium; mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;">The hiking
that afternoon was idyllic. We climbed steeply above the untidy jumble of the
yayla and followed a tumbling mountain stream steadily uphill towards distant
granite spires. The Kackar massif tops out at 3900 metres and keeps snow (and
tiny, retreating glaciers) all summer long in shady areas. We were well below
this level, walking through grass liberally flecked with variegated patches of
wildflowers, most of them familiar from two years of hiking in Georgia (the
Georgian frontier lies only 100 km to the east). We ambled along contentedly
until we reached a lookout point over a series of glacial tarns, where we
stopped for photos and to contemplate the dramatic alpine scenery before
turning around and trotting smartly downhill, hoping that we hadn’t missed the
return journey of the minibus. Luckily the driver was in no hurry to leave on
schedule, so we were in plenty of time to catch a lift back to Ayder through
mist and drizzle that was rising inexorably from below. In Ayder we found a
really nice hotel room behind our original choice. We spent the afternoon and
evening packing our gear for our planned 3-day trek around the Kackar massif
starting the next morning, and were in bed early, tired by the first real
exercise we’d done in over a week.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_C5LR2Q3Y37MPt3dnnPBMibP6KL2Gnutcw5e87jL_DpDv2d2LpcZkQ68N2KiALh-nCXM4u92mgYLFZ9vX0njGTDw1B9dcKFGTK-HOWT8KbHtzCvBRfCq6nRJo_34pIovY4e-JI41zKBQ/s1000/DSC_8803.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><img border="0" data-original-height="667" data-original-width="1000" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_C5LR2Q3Y37MPt3dnnPBMibP6KL2Gnutcw5e87jL_DpDv2d2LpcZkQ68N2KiALh-nCXM4u92mgYLFZ9vX0njGTDw1B9dcKFGTK-HOWT8KbHtzCvBRfCq6nRJo_34pIovY4e-JI41zKBQ/w400-h266/DSC_8803.jpg" width="400" /></span></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Yours truly at the top of our Kackar hike<br /><br /></span></td></tr></tbody></table><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-CA" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: medium; mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;">The next
morning we had a long wait before the morning minibus back to Kavrun, so we
breakfasted again at the same restaurant as the previous day, where a rather
embarrassed waiter told us that we could have the same breakfast for 5 euros to
make up for the outrageous price he had charged us the day before. We threw our
packs, laden with tent, sleeping bags and mats, cooking gear, fuel and warm
clothes, into the vehicle and set off uphill again. We had not been able to
check the weather forecast the day before (there was no phone signal at our
hotel), but the previous day’s forecast was for light drizzle early, clearing
by 1 pm. When we got to Kavrun, it was certainly drizzling, although perhaps
more heavily than advertised. Undeterred we set off uphill into the fog,
following a river upstream. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFzj8Ne6KhI0OyehKH4gKBgpAVuu_8l9Ki9M2xTbctAlbUPcyfEb3hpfkne9JShyJmbK376MTz2II4gAmceJNc9UMO3QzQRhnpniervxtUIv4rZ6MCTyV6dcWLsl0xC0ClLu7IpCa0Idc/s1000/DSC_8809.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><img border="0" data-original-height="667" data-original-width="1000" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFzj8Ne6KhI0OyehKH4gKBgpAVuu_8l9Ki9M2xTbctAlbUPcyfEb3hpfkne9JShyJmbK376MTz2II4gAmceJNc9UMO3QzQRhnpniervxtUIv4rZ6MCTyV6dcWLsl0xC0ClLu7IpCa0Idc/w400-h266/DSC_8809.jpg" width="400" /></span></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">The start of rainy cold misery</span></td></tr></tbody></table><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-CA" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: medium; mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;">As we
trudged along the rain, far from tapering off, seemed to be getting heavier. We
followed the GPS signal and map on my smartphone, and yet we still managed to
veer off the proper trail, heading steeply uphill towards a mountain climbing
basecamp rather than along the lower path that followed the main river. We
turned around to retrace our steps and find the proper route, and almost
immediately two things occurred to change our plans. First of all we
encountered a group of Turkish mountaineers who told us cheerfully that 90 mm of
rain was forecast that afternoon and evening, and then while we were talking to
them, thunder began to boom around us. We decided that we didn’t want to be
hiking through a spectacular lightning storm, so we beat a hasty retreat
through rain that rapidly became torrential and very cold indeed; in fact it
got so cold that it turned to hail which stung as it hammered down onto our
heads and faces! My phone was in my shorts pocket, and got so soaked by water
running off my raincoat that it never worked again. Terri was extremely unhappy
about the amount of lightning and the nearness of the strikes, so we made very
brisk time indeed back down to Kavrun, where we found a small café and sat
there drinking soup, dripping water and trying to warm up until our minibus
driver announced our departure. We returned to Ayder, rapidly put our packs
into the car and drove straight back to Iyidere; our three-day trek had lasted
barely three hours! We were glad to have seen the Kackars (again, I had first
seen them featured long ago in a National Geographic article) and to have done
some hiking, but it seemed as though there was almost daily heavy rain, mist
and fog, so it might well have been three very soggy days indeed. We spread our
clothes out around the room to dry and headed back to our grilled meat
restaurant for another sizeable feed.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-CA" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: medium; mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif; font-size: medium;"><b>Return to Cappadocia</b></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-CA" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: medium; mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;">From here
we retreated back towards Ankara, fleeing the crowds, the ugly urban-industrial
sprawl and the incessant rain, heading for empty spaces, dry weather and more
archaeological sites back on the Anatolian Plateau. We spent a long day driving
back through Erzincan and Sivas, along brand-new motorways (some of them were
still having their lane markings painted as we drove along them). After 540
kilometres of driving, we pitched our tent on a dirt track above a small
village west of Sivas, looking out over sere hills and small patches of
irrigation in the valley bottoms. It was an idyllic spot to watch a nearly full
moon rise and to grill chicken breasts garnished with the wild thyme that
carpeted the hillsides.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheAQyZ23K5G42xudtdmiAVFRExTcbBk37b9Qutwo3Y2B-CMGqE31cdabAG_1gi9IfBKGyRarQBnGh36UiyS7qgxyI0YsZgGGoJQ-MwjWVeUjLANS4FVRjLZkktqUr6eT6hbvm-CExYL7k/s1000/DSC_8832.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><img border="0" data-original-height="667" data-original-width="1000" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheAQyZ23K5G42xudtdmiAVFRExTcbBk37b9Qutwo3Y2B-CMGqE31cdabAG_1gi9IfBKGyRarQBnGh36UiyS7qgxyI0YsZgGGoJQ-MwjWVeUjLANS4FVRjLZkktqUr6eT6hbvm-CExYL7k/w400-h266/DSC_8832.jpg" width="400" /></span></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">The letter of a seriously annoyed king<br /><br /></span></td></tr></tbody></table><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-CA" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: medium; mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;">We were
headed towards the tourist mecca of Cappadocia, but we had some historical
sites to visit first. We got to Kultepe fairly early and were amazed to have
the entire site to ourselves, other than a small archaeological team, and not
to have to pay an admission fee. It’s a big site, closer in size to Hattusa
than to Alaca Hoyuk, and a very important one too. It was a major Hittite
centre, and also had a colony of Assyrian merchants living in the lower town
(the Karum) below the mound of the upper city (Kanesh) and its palaces. There’s
a series of palaces excavated in the upper town, although they’re not visually
very impressive. The site sprawls quite extensively, and we wandered around for
a while before running into the archaeology team that’s excavating the site.
One of their postdoctoral fellows, a Brazilian based at the Sorbonne in Paris,
took time to chat with us and fill us in on their work. They’re currently
investigating the pre-Hittite early Bronze Age city at the lowest levels of the
mound, trying to understand the social and economic picture of that early
period. She pointed out the yellow flame-damaged mud-brick of the palaces (all
consumed by fire at the end of the Hittite period) and directed us to the
Karum, which we hadn’t heard about and would have missed without her advice. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHg9YLDcyWGvMnXYjOVg-vKpua9-fNJmwv0jvi8WIZdlqKzV8aHir8AOQ54iD_g_pV9Q6Iw1x-iCJOYPYMNP05Z8pP-M6d3zxEbF24UBKI6XISksdOHJO_4LqVTFasT1BTrHrvI2BC-lo/s1000/DSC_8849.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><img border="0" data-original-height="667" data-original-width="1000" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHg9YLDcyWGvMnXYjOVg-vKpua9-fNJmwv0jvi8WIZdlqKzV8aHir8AOQ54iD_g_pV9Q6Iw1x-iCJOYPYMNP05Z8pP-M6d3zxEbF24UBKI6XISksdOHJO_4LqVTFasT1BTrHrvI2BC-lo/w400-h266/DSC_8849.jpg" width="400" /></span></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Reconstructed house, Kanesh Kunum, Kultepe<br /><br /></span></td></tr></tbody></table><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-CA" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: medium; mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;">We paused
to do a Facebook Live video, talking about the historical details revealed in
some excellent signboards scattered around the site. Kanesh seems to have been
the key Early Bronze Age site of the region, and it was the capture of Kanesh
by the Hittites that propelled them into supremacy in central Anatolia. There
are 23,500 cuneiform tablets that were discovered in the lower city (the Karum)
which paint a picture of life in ancient Kultepe and the wider Anatolian world.
One letter, from a local ruler of the kingdom of Mama named Anum-hirbi to the
ruler of Kanesh, is a litany of complaint about border infringements and
promises not kept.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgprYGYPW-Mw_z_rKc7EnXk0rSk1efkVw3dtMMLj9fLspiteMr6myZ2meh3n8ygt-eqKYYzdjIOT1GrcjsHViumHo7JhJElHK6x0YBLVvSRVmCtoVrbUHErC9-zkci4R9B0Cik_y2TKwVM/s1000/DSC_8858.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1000" data-original-width="667" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgprYGYPW-Mw_z_rKc7EnXk0rSk1efkVw3dtMMLj9fLspiteMr6myZ2meh3n8ygt-eqKYYzdjIOT1GrcjsHViumHo7JhJElHK6x0YBLVvSRVmCtoVrbUHErC9-zkci4R9B0Cik_y2TKwVM/w266-h400/DSC_8858.jpg" width="266" /></span></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Gateway to a Selcuk medressah, Kayseri</span></td></tr></tbody></table><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-CA" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: medium; mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;">The Karum
was a surprisingly large suburb, stretching hundreds of metres in a dense
labyrinth of rectangular houses linked by narrow streets. Here the visiting
Assyrian merchants set up house, keeping their trade goods inside their houses.
When the colony burned down, their record-keeping tablets were baked into hard,
durable form for archaeologists to dig up millennia later. We saw graves,
houses, a temple and, most interesting of all, a modern reconstruction by
experimental archaeologists of what these houses must have looked like when
they were still standing.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-CA" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: medium; mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;">Kultepe is
on the outskirts of the major city of Kayseri (ancient Caesarea), and we were
soon in the sprawling suburbs, searching for somewhere to restock our
food supplies. We ended up in a large shopping mall where I tried
(unsuccessfully) to have my phone touch screen repaired. We then drove into the
historic centre of the city (a rather hair-raising experience), tried unsuccessfully to find a
commercial parking lot and ended up parked behind a gaggle of apartment
buildings. I had been to Kayseri before, back in 1994, and I remembered it as
having a number of interesting buildings from the Seljuk period (the 11<sup>th</sup>
and 12<sup>th</sup> centuries). Terri and I did a whirlwind walking tour,
seeing graceful old mosques and medressahs. We ended up in a medressah
repurposed as an artisans’ market, while in the fortress we found the excellent
archaeological museum where we spent a wonderful hour learning about the many
ancient sites of Kayseri province.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-CA" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: medium; mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;"></span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhU04GwTUCIXEO0oDZMWXg4_T7FG4zowHY39YC8bLqbKhC0xu1Ipp7FlEXluaHvEFlcx7cCUsvRK_URzzFtn8y8RdEBYjxWciY99oIY2KLRwmRcAEy6FO_acqfCZ_IgKTm8y75QL-b2B54/s1000/DSC_8868.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1000" data-original-width="691" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhU04GwTUCIXEO0oDZMWXg4_T7FG4zowHY39YC8bLqbKhC0xu1Ipp7FlEXluaHvEFlcx7cCUsvRK_URzzFtn8y8RdEBYjxWciY99oIY2KLRwmRcAEy6FO_acqfCZ_IgKTm8y75QL-b2B54/w276-h400/DSC_8868.jpg" width="276" /></span></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Goddess idol, Kayseri Museum<br /><br /></span></td></tr></tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyho3KmRu3KupQng0fDTbXaw5QheETrOL7qr9lIBnGEewMZpmVJpFB_EZkFw7xtrTMqwZoUID1UeQG-O5XlqsmLEZ7fJucUJBhKo85B4B-bV1HQsiYXpgbtfKE0WyEm_aFo2ou10C3txI/s1000/DSC_8914.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1000" data-original-width="667" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyho3KmRu3KupQng0fDTbXaw5QheETrOL7qr9lIBnGEewMZpmVJpFB_EZkFw7xtrTMqwZoUID1UeQG-O5XlqsmLEZ7fJucUJBhKo85B4B-bV1HQsiYXpgbtfKE0WyEm_aFo2ou10C3txI/w266-h400/DSC_8914.jpg" width="266" /></span></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Our first view of the balloons<br /><br /></span></td></tr></tbody></table><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-CA" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: medium; mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;">Kayseri is
less than an hour from Goreme, the tourist capital of Cappadocia, and before
sunset we had established ourselves in a cheap-but-cheerful commercial
campground on the outskirts of the town. It would be our base for the next
three nights, and we celebrated by grilling lambchops over a very slow charcoal
fire and drinking the first really good red wine we’d found in Turkey
(Cappadocia is the major wine-producing region of the country). <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-CA" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: medium; mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;">We were
awoken early the next morning by loud roaring sounds that we eventually and
groggily realized must be the famous hot air balloons of Cappadocia. We crawled
out of the tent and found enormous balloons towering above us as they inflated
in the field next to the campground, or floating perilously close above us. We
wandered out to take photos, and ended up being offered the traditional
end-of-flight glass of champagne by a balloon crew that had landed nearby.
Terri had never been ballooning before, so we resolved to go the next morning
with the company (Royal Balloons) who had given us champagne. (An example of a
successful marketing strategy!) It was amazing how many balloons were in the
air; I counted over 100, and there must have been even more, since not all of
them were in the air at the same time, and some were launched quite far away
and were hidden by the convoluted terrain.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-CA" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: medium; mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;"></span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhs8WWLAfHT9GeDd4DYcRCBew2ukqaqtvRew5Bz3r-mGKIfcV33tqiq0cilzioPGX4M1pqst3PrtLoRZZcng55768NJ-Z1KkIAiGrt5jvk016hP8xOaWSX00BxuAI_VMeDuF_LFs8hINzI/s1000/DSC_8934.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><img border="0" data-original-height="667" data-original-width="1000" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhs8WWLAfHT9GeDd4DYcRCBew2ukqaqtvRew5Bz3r-mGKIfcV33tqiq0cilzioPGX4M1pqst3PrtLoRZZcng55768NJ-Z1KkIAiGrt5jvk016hP8xOaWSX00BxuAI_VMeDuF_LFs8hINzI/w400-h266/DSC_8934.jpg" width="400" /></span></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Balloon wedding pictures<br /><br /></span></td></tr></tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2nFaRxkhQAxVJgZVdDn7Dlqylc-sLfPvceked5-ZyFvN7lZSZer4e09OlSFWLUsJltg-gqDHoGnTfBBwjQyk6y9709CYpQ3rQ7xlzuAnU5c2XNbJocPAKJMo79a0OmJxuB2IHMh86dFw/s1000/DSC_9248.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1000" data-original-width="667" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2nFaRxkhQAxVJgZVdDn7Dlqylc-sLfPvceked5-ZyFvN7lZSZer4e09OlSFWLUsJltg-gqDHoGnTfBBwjQyk6y9709CYpQ3rQ7xlzuAnU5c2XNbJocPAKJMo79a0OmJxuB2IHMh86dFw/w266-h400/DSC_9248.jpg" width="266" /></span></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Campground kitties, Goreme</span></td></tr></tbody></table><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-CA" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: medium; mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;">After
breakfast we used the children’s swing sets to do a workout with the gymnastic
rings we were carrying around with us, then had a long and refreshing swim
before the day’s crowds began to arrive. The campground had several cats and
kittens wandering around, and since we were missing our beloved Bali cats
Ginger Bear and Mama Cat, we spent some time feeding them milk and letting them
munch on our lamb bones. Eventually we called Royal Balloon and went to pay for
our balloon ride at their office in town (a lovely early birthday present for
me from Terri!). We spent the afternoon walking through the fantastically
shaped “fairy chimneys” of Rose Valley and Red Valley, past isolated vineyards,
ancient eroding churches and modern pigeon coops carved into the soft volcanic
tufa of the area. It was visually stunning and great fun, although much hotter
than we had become used to over the previous ten days. That evening, after grilling up chicken, we wandered across the road to try to photograph the full moon rising over the distinctive fairy chimneys of Cappadocia.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-CA" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: medium; mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-CA" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: medium; mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-CA" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: medium; mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-CA" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: medium; mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;"></span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4hVxNGa-cVMI3HK4ZnlbsVZrZiC_mkOKBE-3rMkYTfG7oMej0vNbBYPglJagdHFsg4IDL39QIIINJD7fWUt40UOqOcb82pqbMFIkNFaL8VCnJEAKMHMW5pUpAtI8C9I7D0-kR-lTl5co/s1000/DSC_8954.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><img border="0" data-original-height="667" data-original-width="1000" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4hVxNGa-cVMI3HK4ZnlbsVZrZiC_mkOKBE-3rMkYTfG7oMej0vNbBYPglJagdHFsg4IDL39QIIINJD7fWUt40UOqOcb82pqbMFIkNFaL8VCnJEAKMHMW5pUpAtI8C9I7D0-kR-lTl5co/w400-h266/DSC_8954.jpg" width="400" /></span></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Cappadocian fairy chimney landscape<br /><br /></span><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaZRTlHy6xHmO13J3NExyz1Dua_ut3mArHDoMFFaS9oHpzegI6UwoPoYcp2rGB9eMQVmCax3utdsaB22VNRcMEINSFmjvGZl-GyFD5V1bPITs1_YuTfNOZct1jYjVJIIEssQMyUA83UtE/s1000/DSC_8958.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1000" data-original-width="667" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaZRTlHy6xHmO13J3NExyz1Dua_ut3mArHDoMFFaS9oHpzegI6UwoPoYcp2rGB9eMQVmCax3utdsaB22VNRcMEINSFmjvGZl-GyFD5V1bPITs1_YuTfNOZct1jYjVJIIEssQMyUA83UtE/w266-h400/DSC_8958.jpg" width="266" /></span></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Rose Valley<br /><br /></span><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkagZaI1aB4g4euAJXaHC6JNwJca4ybOfcS9y9swHjhg77tBxKvL7zxbmdHe3Kp8nKLmUy-wUUwriwEgOOZ2O0_Z9mfcv1Nx_W9Y-Om-_knV6TRQxVDfT6DFPP2Rclf2duD16FQmw-Vbo/s1000/DSC_8963.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><img border="0" data-original-height="667" data-original-width="1000" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkagZaI1aB4g4euAJXaHC6JNwJca4ybOfcS9y9swHjhg77tBxKvL7zxbmdHe3Kp8nKLmUy-wUUwriwEgOOZ2O0_Z9mfcv1Nx_W9Y-Om-_knV6TRQxVDfT6DFPP2Rclf2duD16FQmw-Vbo/w400-h266/DSC_8963.jpg" width="400" /></span></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Terri in Rose Valley<br /><br /></span><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsYG-3cTDk3if9PKnL9oJN-eUXxrJSMm3dINW_zWmKnAsUe1EmghjFHVrfPVm1wTc52lLW_g7nWxed8j-FOn4NGo-yJYiGd4B19GgE81reYHyMgfTGCJClIO6rOs7lMeZDe40dqrX9Eso/s1000/DSC_8967.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1000" data-original-width="667" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsYG-3cTDk3if9PKnL9oJN-eUXxrJSMm3dINW_zWmKnAsUe1EmghjFHVrfPVm1wTc52lLW_g7nWxed8j-FOn4NGo-yJYiGd4B19GgE81reYHyMgfTGCJClIO6rOs7lMeZDe40dqrX9Eso/w266-h400/DSC_8967.jpg" width="266" /></span></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Cappadocian vineyard<br /><br /></span><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikbNmWxKc_2vszB4lqRMJEW5Dj_CHzHNQyLNEhRMSnp_mLsriQvdSn3RUJmyezki8GlO6QQoGOnI6su3Rlh_fen_xDpMXDHRe0_vGqIJoKUBAhW3LwNL5FQ11oJHhz2scMeXbiV9FlHJE/s1000/DSC_8969.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1000" data-original-width="667" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikbNmWxKc_2vszB4lqRMJEW5Dj_CHzHNQyLNEhRMSnp_mLsriQvdSn3RUJmyezki8GlO6QQoGOnI6su3Rlh_fen_xDpMXDHRe0_vGqIJoKUBAhW3LwNL5FQ11oJHhz2scMeXbiV9FlHJE/w266-h400/DSC_8969.jpg" width="266" /></span></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Walking into Rose Valley<br /><br /></span><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjC54GEhXzxlj_a1SJpeWVBUdDv3PcT6gYZMH35RgzimEQ_oNnVBIVRCyTWqNh6XVZbi0HK7VAT7vqsrooELc5xbnDCfGmJUp0nuzSKo4YDq0iphxyIsF0S8GlpWm_9VeqOGVcWI5fMpVA/s1000/DSC_8977.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1000" data-original-width="667" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjC54GEhXzxlj_a1SJpeWVBUdDv3PcT6gYZMH35RgzimEQ_oNnVBIVRCyTWqNh6XVZbi0HK7VAT7vqsrooELc5xbnDCfGmJUp0nuzSKo4YDq0iphxyIsF0S8GlpWm_9VeqOGVcWI5fMpVA/w266-h400/DSC_8977.jpg" width="266" /></span></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Natural rock passageway<br /><br /></span><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEjzwapFDVXNuvxZCN6oWUTzCelV5T7iQbeotEeCcBxkvj6W9746K_NRk05cyZqYnLYjD88XDfBx_-5qdW-DwloFXbMDj8ge0M6tLH_IKd9ORq4LSzMK1VVC7ncxwGXzbIsOsPkKF1v0s/s1000/DSC_8982.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><img border="0" data-original-height="667" data-original-width="1000" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEjzwapFDVXNuvxZCN6oWUTzCelV5T7iQbeotEeCcBxkvj6W9746K_NRk05cyZqYnLYjD88XDfBx_-5qdW-DwloFXbMDj8ge0M6tLH_IKd9ORq4LSzMK1VVC7ncxwGXzbIsOsPkKF1v0s/w400-h266/DSC_8982.jpg" width="400" /></span></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Magical Cappadocian landscape<br /><br /></span><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWBl1BKI7uxsSyXfymD2NaNUJYlxkqEaTrZXnuSazfbGMuAmcMTl6ZD5kghJl-arGOZZ1_EtHSHfnleTVvK88e4KxLFabo6yFVGEuEFz_sHvE2NPu6xbaJry49J4SHGn7TdKUZr6W-B48/s1000/DSC_8990.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1000" data-original-width="667" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWBl1BKI7uxsSyXfymD2NaNUJYlxkqEaTrZXnuSazfbGMuAmcMTl6ZD5kghJl-arGOZZ1_EtHSHfnleTVvK88e4KxLFabo6yFVGEuEFz_sHvE2NPu6xbaJry49J4SHGn7TdKUZr6W-B48/w266-h400/DSC_8990.jpg" width="266" /></span></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Fairy chimneys <br /><br /></span><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSMIuWEOZR0X00yUZDNt9YPhO4KLSpC6Nxdu2Z6yIKNcEgR0NyEIvs9vfKN4hecL8XTMNl4-_TwWTnqco_lnlAYrfuB6qEs3mct_csmjh3wUDbxgl_VgRElJTIOW-_hmnwu7c1aZL64RM/s1000/DSC_9013.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><img border="0" data-original-height="667" data-original-width="1000" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSMIuWEOZR0X00yUZDNt9YPhO4KLSpC6Nxdu2Z6yIKNcEgR0NyEIvs9vfKN4hecL8XTMNl4-_TwWTnqco_lnlAYrfuB6qEs3mct_csmjh3wUDbxgl_VgRElJTIOW-_hmnwu7c1aZL64RM/w400-h266/DSC_9013.jpg" width="400" /></span></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Full moon rising over Cappadocia<br /><br /></span><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgb9NKyQAaELEYgo9SR0hlpxo27X_P9UuDTHbVkPdQwQUWUqDzb48_8Up3oFfsy1Gx7-_9SJMXSnqhrNAI0vPgTN73lkCmenkknEuZfWIiC0DZVs8eGy4WOEKFRdPVVK8jP5ZTtCzg9LY/s1000/DSC_9037.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><img border="0" data-original-height="667" data-original-width="1000" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgb9NKyQAaELEYgo9SR0hlpxo27X_P9UuDTHbVkPdQwQUWUqDzb48_8Up3oFfsy1Gx7-_9SJMXSnqhrNAI0vPgTN73lkCmenkknEuZfWIiC0DZVs8eGy4WOEKFRdPVVK8jP5ZTtCzg9LY/w400-h266/DSC_9037.jpg" width="400" /></span></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Cappadocian full moon<br /><br /></span></td></tr></tbody></table></td></tr></tbody></table></td></tr></tbody></table></td></tr></tbody></table></td></tr></tbody></table></td></tr></tbody></table></td></tr></tbody></table></td></tr></tbody></table></td></tr></tbody></table></td></tr></tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhX5kuV5g6F78TE2pzaleaGfF2npPWQ7AFCrNxllhv-QA3sICdvj2xHWtPqzQv8jRiHgq7bj09p8JgKf85LAvnNfyhlImLTwcsNqYxPQDRpnVM6auE8-_vYrIkUFkRXogf5IOIHhftYVdw/s1000/DSC_9051.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1000" data-original-width="667" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhX5kuV5g6F78TE2pzaleaGfF2npPWQ7AFCrNxllhv-QA3sICdvj2xHWtPqzQv8jRiHgq7bj09p8JgKf85LAvnNfyhlImLTwcsNqYxPQDRpnVM6auE8-_vYrIkUFkRXogf5IOIHhftYVdw/w266-h400/DSC_9051.jpg" width="266" /></span></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Pre-dawn flight preparations</span></td></tr></tbody></table><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-CA" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: medium; mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;">Our second
full day in Cappadocia saw us up at 4:15 to go ballooning. We got picked up,
taken to the company offices for a welcome early breakfast, and then driven to
the balloons, already being inflated with hot air blasted out of gas-fired jets
that lit up the pre-dawn in various shades of yellow and orange. By 5:40 our
balloon was aloft, long before sunrise, and we rocketed high up before
returning closer to ground level to sweep through some of the deeply incised
canyons, sometimes tickling treetops and grazing rock pinnacles. It was fun and
exhilarating and a completely mass-tourist thing to do, and we had a wonderful
time. We watched the sun rise and set the bright colours of the balloons
aflame, and looked into the distance towards Mt. Erciyes, the 3900-metre
volcano that gave rise to this unique landscape. By 7 am we were headed for our
landing, pursued below us by the ground crew. We hit the ground with
substantial sideways speed, but our pilot landed us upright and kept us there
long enough for the ground crew to catch up and load us onto their truck. We
clambered out, sipped our champagne and babbled excitedly to our fellow
passengers about the experience before being driven back to our campsite, both
of us buzzing with adrenaline and fun.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-CA" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: medium; mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-CA" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: medium; mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;"></span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBzGSh9WEHTiQteixecHBmAS4vNU221i1gXhUHzLeGHPZnV0TvGL7cOHFx5LI0egNTYITx2PUAFi9dTwy-cfL8kOebqJtWKmM76MOdCzezw0NFUymA98WGOSrkd4dYC26MVxDrEhNDczg/s1000/DSC_9079.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1000" data-original-width="667" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBzGSh9WEHTiQteixecHBmAS4vNU221i1gXhUHzLeGHPZnV0TvGL7cOHFx5LI0egNTYITx2PUAFi9dTwy-cfL8kOebqJtWKmM76MOdCzezw0NFUymA98WGOSrkd4dYC26MVxDrEhNDczg/w266-h400/DSC_9079.jpg" width="266" /></span></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Looking down on other balloons<br /><br /></span><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiegfwal_gkFP8oX_lX84ovhWuR9lOcTDhKM4OM73zYca9ovnuF8WFB55JrNq-nfMdlhIpO-EdcPCTiXQ9VBJH5-VStvHKOveH76w7btBSV74yHPDwUqhIEanTvWDkf1jWaV-2_pT04VGU/s1000/DSC_9084.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><img border="0" data-original-height="667" data-original-width="1000" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiegfwal_gkFP8oX_lX84ovhWuR9lOcTDhKM4OM73zYca9ovnuF8WFB55JrNq-nfMdlhIpO-EdcPCTiXQ9VBJH5-VStvHKOveH76w7btBSV74yHPDwUqhIEanTvWDkf1jWaV-2_pT04VGU/w400-h266/DSC_9084.jpg" width="400" /></span></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Terri looking very pleased with the balloon flight<br /><br /></span><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2ANhDGgbakRKfUieRhZp5DweGi1_IDmbyTKC37OuNTeprJnAR0IDzOR7mrujXyTtDhkrSQB36t604iict8La4tlO8ca1UfVwfrlAje9jvF8ZqUDYt-49-MXdEAChvYCWyl8N7GvxmAyA/s1000/DSC_9161.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1000" data-original-width="667" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2ANhDGgbakRKfUieRhZp5DweGi1_IDmbyTKC37OuNTeprJnAR0IDzOR7mrujXyTtDhkrSQB36t604iict8La4tlO8ca1UfVwfrlAje9jvF8ZqUDYt-49-MXdEAChvYCWyl8N7GvxmAyA/w266-h400/DSC_9161.jpg" width="266" /></span></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Cappadocian plateau, badlands and valley<br /><br /></span><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIS0bQ51sRQiJHshg7DxbcYzCohTgmLaz0K1aMaepvqxjja9_AL_5QkSDQsQKJkpXWY01_1ZdU6UgqwQ8hBkQIc7_AUiG_UgzTU2wuAAo2tQGN9WAmZJcO-7XIlWrEBn3f-an4ethP69k/s1000/DSC_9167.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1000" data-original-width="667" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIS0bQ51sRQiJHshg7DxbcYzCohTgmLaz0K1aMaepvqxjja9_AL_5QkSDQsQKJkpXWY01_1ZdU6UgqwQ8hBkQIc7_AUiG_UgzTU2wuAAo2tQGN9WAmZJcO-7XIlWrEBn3f-an4ethP69k/w266-h400/DSC_9167.jpg" width="266" /></span></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Balloons and full moon<br /><br /></span><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkG_jyCOMFlYNewkzuPkr885b1gmes6t-vdVHF85YFNTTdNipw0uO09gOp-d3kQPREZPDwRr3LZlOWae2mapVWYlJTk1akxoHoZ9g0gsra_SbC3osYAXclAhGmhSnXTGnhoLSx_qnj7hE/s1000/DSC_9174.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1000" data-original-width="667" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkG_jyCOMFlYNewkzuPkr885b1gmes6t-vdVHF85YFNTTdNipw0uO09gOp-d3kQPREZPDwRr3LZlOWae2mapVWYlJTk1akxoHoZ9g0gsra_SbC3osYAXclAhGmhSnXTGnhoLSx_qnj7hE/w266-h400/DSC_9174.jpg" width="266" /></span></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Wall-to-wall balloons<br /><br /></span></td></tr></tbody></table></td></tr></tbody></table></td></tr></tbody></table></td></tr></tbody></table></td></tr></tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2zcPhuC6YfcZUgUknP-YmnrYWm1oe9KrX9Mmw2YcBOgR3tRcVt9e-fCgg5uj5DZHAqq7wQZ5Q9ISpuEAskUwaBh61bsv3uhSA1xieLM4QCAjRgMtt3qdNjfCfZhSJqgJiH7WG5GzBiJI/s1000/DSC_9212.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1000" data-original-width="667" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2zcPhuC6YfcZUgUknP-YmnrYWm1oe9KrX9Mmw2YcBOgR3tRcVt9e-fCgg5uj5DZHAqq7wQZ5Q9ISpuEAskUwaBh61bsv3uhSA1xieLM4QCAjRgMtt3qdNjfCfZhSJqgJiH7WG5GzBiJI/w266-h400/DSC_9212.jpg" width="266" /></span></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Enchanting landscape<br /><br /></span></td></tr></tbody></table><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-CA" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: medium; mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;">We had a
lavish fry-up of eggs and sausages before taking advantage of the early start
to the day to get going early on another hike, this one up the Pigeon Valley
towards the nearby town of Uchisar. There were essentially no other people on
the hike, and we walked along marvelling at the fabulous rock formations and
churches before climbing up into the fairytale architecture of Uchisar and its
towering “castle”, with sweeping views out over the landscape. We wandered
through the streets and then back, via the deserted Zemi Valley, to Goreme.
That afternoon we drove over to the third tourist town of Cappadocia, Urgup, and
did a wine tasting at a vineyard there; we left with a trunkful of Cappadocian
wines to see us through to the end of our Turkish sojourn. A dinner of takeout
doner kebabs, washed down with a bottle of Cappadocian red, sent us to bed
early and a bit tired out from walking.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-CA" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: medium; mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-CA" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: medium; mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-CA" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: medium; mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-CA" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: medium; mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;"></span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhb4At53Bl9dzhyphenhyphen86B34aOL_twl5GJilc5RxzqV-ZzCnn7iokCyiwStm8NrPMvKz520hwtjz8L1MZli3JBKN4wxcVVl4j8e6QKM9eb0E4kWZBeTw7qopPPah14WYCE_he2PiUGDWsLnB2A/s1000/DSC_9215.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><img border="0" data-original-height="667" data-original-width="1000" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhb4At53Bl9dzhyphenhyphen86B34aOL_twl5GJilc5RxzqV-ZzCnn7iokCyiwStm8NrPMvKz520hwtjz8L1MZli3JBKN4wxcVVl4j8e6QKM9eb0E4kWZBeTw7qopPPah14WYCE_he2PiUGDWsLnB2A/w400-h266/DSC_9215.jpg" width="400" /></span></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Pigeon Valley<br /><br /></span><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEio6q22tbAgV9Hl_o6_kXMdawwNPquhghv1HLSgWoHbHSAamqgTsO4BgFm-0okhgD_g-yNuYvzo6FPIZmtJRepOg32Vn2diaEacHRB3irqgMPZYjGuEhNZcZJRnv_6ahqKUlv9Y8dqic1A/s1000/DSC_9219.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><img border="0" data-original-height="667" data-original-width="1000" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEio6q22tbAgV9Hl_o6_kXMdawwNPquhghv1HLSgWoHbHSAamqgTsO4BgFm-0okhgD_g-yNuYvzo6FPIZmtJRepOg32Vn2diaEacHRB3irqgMPZYjGuEhNZcZJRnv_6ahqKUlv9Y8dqic1A/w400-h266/DSC_9219.jpg" width="400" /></span></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Pigeon Valley<br /><br /></span><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNOAfm8m9qjBuTTdnJl9mgxLAd4CpQKQizrO_42bchOtMG0FNHrp7qoXgo045lI3vnw76G3L-WoqBeqNg3GZvA7q3X7TN6FbCNYXwUedn_wk5JkUZZSOfnRu_HUNXzlnoQ9tTelm3lAOI/s1000/DSC_9224.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><img border="0" data-original-height="667" data-original-width="1000" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNOAfm8m9qjBuTTdnJl9mgxLAd4CpQKQizrO_42bchOtMG0FNHrp7qoXgo045lI3vnw76G3L-WoqBeqNg3GZvA7q3X7TN6FbCNYXwUedn_wk5JkUZZSOfnRu_HUNXzlnoQ9tTelm3lAOI/w400-h266/DSC_9224.jpg" width="400" /></span></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Uchisar Castle<br /></span><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0JFZwlh-prNz2IO7ffWnAgDSCSH11zXZN9aMGSS5OA0fVbmZNkz8jLs1CPXAQQx1KeK86Mzi4j46ZdFAM9owe95NjFxTcatghRtM7Po_Yv6ei6e6blK-rD9WX600WD1HcbxEise1Ez-U/s1000/DSC_9244.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1000" data-original-width="667" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0JFZwlh-prNz2IO7ffWnAgDSCSH11zXZN9aMGSS5OA0fVbmZNkz8jLs1CPXAQQx1KeK86Mzi4j46ZdFAM9owe95NjFxTcatghRtM7Po_Yv6ei6e6blK-rD9WX600WD1HcbxEise1Ez-U/w266-h400/DSC_9244.jpg" width="266" /></span></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Zemi Valley</span></td></tr></tbody></table><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p></td></tr></tbody></table></td></tr></tbody></table></td></tr></tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpEVno0_sz9tG8Z8rcB2AuXCm5yVXjsMgjf_O-mGiW5NrcfIP2eNa4TV0v_bKiT-v_3JUBI3sNlDm_RW3MMCJIF0RSL6V8dRjpkSB3sy3iJwwTENIluaUDMS3oVAfku-Z5vtAP5UwkKiM/s1000/DSC_9265.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><img border="0" data-original-height="667" data-original-width="1000" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpEVno0_sz9tG8Z8rcB2AuXCm5yVXjsMgjf_O-mGiW5NrcfIP2eNa4TV0v_bKiT-v_3JUBI3sNlDm_RW3MMCJIF0RSL6V8dRjpkSB3sy3iJwwTENIluaUDMS3oVAfku-Z5vtAP5UwkKiM/w400-h266/DSC_9265.jpg" width="400" /></span></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Kaymakli</span></td></tr></tbody></table><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-CA" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: medium; mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;">We woke up
on August 24<sup>th</sup> with only 10 days to go before our flight to New
Zealand. We did another pull-up workout on the playground equipment and had a
quick dip in the pool before hitting the road. We headed southwest out of
Goreme, stopping first at the underground city of Kaymakli. I remember being
enormously impressed with the underground labyrinth of Kaymakli back in 1994.
This time around, although the rooms and physical layout were equally
impressive, the crowding was terrible, and in the context of covid-19 it was a
potential superspreader event, especially given the number of European and
Russian tourists without masks. As well I was less convinced that people had
actually lived underground here; it seemed more likely that this was just
underground storage for grain and oil and a place to stable animals out of the
winter cold. </span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgA-a7ayIWqPXhJPeQgm2JfyYvHnq-mnCOAdolVCGbd0Iv9mqh3OakgDqz6xKXvOadxwqEYMYiImk8yKqLKJIQeubJ-fSQSHccKntP3iMdAbnEruAhT9Mf4Zqq-FSxZNmL8Hpi_tlqttLQ/s1000/DSC_9277.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><img border="0" data-original-height="667" data-original-width="1000" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgA-a7ayIWqPXhJPeQgm2JfyYvHnq-mnCOAdolVCGbd0Iv9mqh3OakgDqz6xKXvOadxwqEYMYiImk8yKqLKJIQeubJ-fSQSHccKntP3iMdAbnEruAhT9Mf4Zqq-FSxZNmL8Hpi_tlqttLQ/w400-h266/DSC_9277.jpg" width="400" /></span></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Ihlara Valley<br /><br /></span></td></tr></tbody></table><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-CA" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: medium; mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;">We beat a hasty retreat from the hordes and kept driving west
towards the Ihlara Valley, recommended to me by <a href="http://thedromomaniac.com/" target="_blank">my dromomaniacal friend Kent Foster.</a> We parked at one end of the valley, paid the admission fee and ambled
down into the valley, a slash of green incised deeply into a very brown and
rocky landscape. The first half of the trek was full of daytrippers by the
hundreds, but we took the opposite bank of the stream and had very few fellow
trekkers on our side. The walk was pleasant, through riverine forest beside a
crystalline stream, with occasional rock-hewn chapels up above the river. At
the halfway point the path came out in an untidy gaggle of riverside
restaurants, and after that we had the entire valley to ourselves, except for a
pair of elderly cowherds tending their animals. The second half of the trek was
idyllic, with the valley walls retreating slightly to leave a riparian strip of
pasture and bush to walk through. We stopped at one point to eat some of the
juiciest blackberries I have ever tasted, and it was late afternoon when we
emerged at the village of Yaprakhisar and hitchhiked back along the main road
to our car. We picked up the car and then stopped for a takeout dinner of
grilled lamb and a magnificent salad in a local restaurant run by an
interesting local guy who had worked for two decades in Germany. We carried it
back to a spot we had scouted out at the end of our hike, where we camped
beside the river in an isolated meadow, ate our dinner and sat watching the
stars pop into view overhead.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-CA" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: medium; mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;"></span></p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzgg0BmygIraMlSilpV7gyvkx8wg2muLbGFRw-WALNL6FlCrW0oIkFzyOg350wz8cam2KgJpRw7UrKB80bef2GWo2s6MdxL2xZlE8xFMDpa9IHfXGApjeOPT0kWZN17T0_uOiNtZGKHkY/s1000/DSC_9281.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1000" data-original-width="667" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzgg0BmygIraMlSilpV7gyvkx8wg2muLbGFRw-WALNL6FlCrW0oIkFzyOg350wz8cam2KgJpRw7UrKB80bef2GWo2s6MdxL2xZlE8xFMDpa9IHfXGApjeOPT0kWZN17T0_uOiNtZGKHkY/w266-h400/DSC_9281.jpg" width="266" /></span></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Ihlara Valley hike<br /><br /></span><div style="text-align: left;"><b><span style="font-size: medium;">To the Dawn of Civilization</span></b></div><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /><br /></span></td></tr></tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfNhV73hQMZOsRMDsw4Uhxvas5dL5rc_xQiHEKOjraMfcqcfWN9aD6KYc2oHd7xTTI5iPhtC8IYpvcRli5-HxjuXnLTcuQeanajf3FW5YWaNEwMZ5fN86vkdO6ioKlfnLUlMDCyjaDc1k/s1000/DSC_9285.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><img border="0" data-original-height="667" data-original-width="1000" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfNhV73hQMZOsRMDsw4Uhxvas5dL5rc_xQiHEKOjraMfcqcfWN9aD6KYc2oHd7xTTI5iPhtC8IYpvcRli5-HxjuXnLTcuQeanajf3FW5YWaNEwMZ5fN86vkdO6ioKlfnLUlMDCyjaDc1k/w400-h266/DSC_9285.jpg" width="400" /></span></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Scenery near Yaprakhisar</span></td></tr></tbody></table><div><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: medium; text-align: justify;">The next
morning we checked out a nearby Christian chapel carved from the soft volcanic
rock which was just above our campsite, then drove out past a series of
impressive fairy chimneys before hitting the main road. It was a busy day full
of sights. We were on our way towards a famous caravanserai at Sultanhani when
we spotted a brown sign (for tourist attractions) marked “Asikli Hoyuk”. We
knew nothing about the site, but we knew by now that “hoyuk” means the same
thing as “tell” in Arabic: an archaeological mound. We diverted a few
kilometres off our route and were immensely glad that we did. </span></div><div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdb8AjP5001oW93NuKuttTIhiXXUEkrCtDiA4gZTVznWiTR3qIQyySD4TYKy5U_dEjMV3RnMSQylfGbgjpWzPo-prla_gea9BXKazKUSrqIFe9s_YN9GVZHe1KH8F3LN230YgrUj6Q83Y/s1000/DSC_9305.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><img border="0" data-original-height="667" data-original-width="1000" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdb8AjP5001oW93NuKuttTIhiXXUEkrCtDiA4gZTVznWiTR3qIQyySD4TYKy5U_dEjMV3RnMSQylfGbgjpWzPo-prla_gea9BXKazKUSrqIFe9s_YN9GVZHe1KH8F3LN230YgrUj6Q83Y/w400-h266/DSC_9305.jpg" width="400" /></span></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Terri atop Asikli Hoyuk<br /><br /></span></td></tr></tbody></table><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-CA" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: medium; mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;">Asikli Hoyuk is
one of the very oldest sedentary villages found anywhere, dating back to 8400
BC. Its location, atop a small hill overlooking a rapidly flowing stream, would
have been perfect for a group of people making the transition from hunting,
fishing and gathering to agricultural existence. The very lowest levels showed
circular semi-subterranean huts, but within a few centuries these had morphed
into a series of cubist adobe huts crowded cheek-by-jowl with their neighbours.
There were no streets in this later layout; entrance to houses was through a
hole in the roof, and access to the outside world was across the neighbours’
rooftops. The later incarnation of the town had big common spaces with limed
floors that had been resurfaced several hundred times, perhaps annually for big
ceremonial occasions. The inhabitants seem to have cultivated early strains of
einkorn and emmer wheat (the wild antecedents of our modern wheat) and to have
buried their dead under the floors of their houses. My favourite part of the
site was the experimental archaeology section, where students have built
replicas of the early and later Asikli houses, complete with selections of
plants found in the dig and plantations of einkorn wheat in the gardens
outside. I walked away much more knowledgeable about early Anatolian
urbanization than I was an hour earlier.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-CA" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: medium; mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;"></span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9d2-F1qx5VLgJHQ2mHwl6kDs3hG2Bow3DJ475dzwf9Un6Y6yVTDRWturTWHOZsktJlBCnJRcne4_cPSYZQ3ttxa_JXdhFnn3QltJ7wHNJfhnkkVzEFqrVpXOhcpfG4Nwqy9UsYhhuIDw/s1000/DSC_9317.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><img border="0" data-original-height="667" data-original-width="1000" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9d2-F1qx5VLgJHQ2mHwl6kDs3hG2Bow3DJ475dzwf9Un6Y6yVTDRWturTWHOZsktJlBCnJRcne4_cPSYZQ3ttxa_JXdhFnn3QltJ7wHNJfhnkkVzEFqrVpXOhcpfG4Nwqy9UsYhhuIDw/w400-h266/DSC_9317.jpg" width="400" /></span></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Asikli Hoyuk replica hut (early phase)<br /><br /></span></td></tr></tbody></table><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-CA" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: medium; mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;"></span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOeCj5jCWf2hKV97UW8F3pstAIPRTTiXCPkD75LLJQAv4Jq0cEl9v50suIQkuQSjJRplc0Kez0OYe7-aUhblH1TlGWoiu_1PRG9uU9tYJWLonXtOcoxZiNk29vIH2qh9HDS67-2HkhJZs/s1000/DSC_9315.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1000" data-original-width="667" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOeCj5jCWf2hKV97UW8F3pstAIPRTTiXCPkD75LLJQAv4Jq0cEl9v50suIQkuQSjJRplc0Kez0OYe7-aUhblH1TlGWoiu_1PRG9uU9tYJWLonXtOcoxZiNk29vIH2qh9HDS67-2HkhJZs/w266-h400/DSC_9315.jpg" width="266" /></span></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Asikli Hoyuk replica hut (later phase)<br /><br /></span></td></tr></tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhtvpsIxdPRYHng5T6GAFoHzXKrOiUtbT9W-Z9G5RI7j4PQSNL18cMehtq5XSPR-nXjQ2Ce4vTq9pcoEMzMcXWE1PUtH6EgoQZToei8a-IubDpwJM_UV3EqKLjm8WrItxgyBF6syuRZiQ/s1000/DSC_9331.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><img border="0" data-original-height="667" data-original-width="1000" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhtvpsIxdPRYHng5T6GAFoHzXKrOiUtbT9W-Z9G5RI7j4PQSNL18cMehtq5XSPR-nXjQ2Ce4vTq9pcoEMzMcXWE1PUtH6EgoQZToei8a-IubDpwJM_UV3EqKLjm8WrItxgyBF6syuRZiQ/w400-h266/DSC_9331.jpg" width="400" /></span></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Interior of the winter quarters at Sultanhani caravanserai<br /><br /></span></td></tr></tbody></table><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-CA" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: medium; mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;">From there
we stopped in at two Seljuk-era caravanserais, a small one at Agzikarahan and a
much larger one at Sultanhani. Agzikarahan was locked, but we drove around the
perimeter, admiring the elaborately sculpted entranceway so typical of the
Seljuk style. Sultanhani was much larger and more elaborate, and much more on
the tourist trail, although it was still free of charge to visit. The
architecture of the interior was striking, with a very cubist raised mosque in
the centre of the courtyard, and a large, beautifully designed winter quarters
for traders at one end. I could imagine Marco Polo, his father and his uncle
bedding down for the night here in 1271 as they began their three-year overland
odyssey to Mongol China.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-CA" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: medium; mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;"></span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiySfmYgs8NOjksYfB_Qvrmtimm2k2FyBvJbIBi3PhiA3EqMdMrpVVxhdR3Ug0iYGX4unBxdYCv5oWjgMqd0cAMzmXCR_c9I5XsmP7EHhU3qnxadorkK75jKDnEDd4IitrlQNgtApsVYEk/s1000/DSC_9327.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1000" data-original-width="667" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiySfmYgs8NOjksYfB_Qvrmtimm2k2FyBvJbIBi3PhiA3EqMdMrpVVxhdR3Ug0iYGX4unBxdYCv5oWjgMqd0cAMzmXCR_c9I5XsmP7EHhU3qnxadorkK75jKDnEDd4IitrlQNgtApsVYEk/w266-h400/DSC_9327.jpg" width="266" /></span></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption"><span style="font-size: medium;">Main gate of Sultanhani caravanserai<br /><br /></span></td></tr></tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgj1jZBkjcwTbqdaJs9Mq-lQMTNMCBmam7qU0N7U4UV6MCHgoXwv4U8JCig-nDWHdL9rh-eQ_Lv9Q182j76ONarRVbvwc1QAs3g8iatBqpKBAOuIoZgdm6n_5k4ScbqIM7qZWzUBaLnh7U/s1000/DSC_9353.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><img border="0" data-original-height="667" data-original-width="1000" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgj1jZBkjcwTbqdaJs9Mq-lQMTNMCBmam7qU0N7U4UV6MCHgoXwv4U8JCig-nDWHdL9rh-eQ_Lv9Q182j76ONarRVbvwc1QAs3g8iatBqpKBAOuIoZgdm6n_5k4ScbqIM7qZWzUBaLnh7U/w400-h266/DSC_9353.jpg" width="400" /></span></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Torched palaces at Acem Hoyuk<br /><br /></span></td></tr></tbody></table><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-CA" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: medium; mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;">Our last historical
site for the day was Acem Hoyuk, which proved to be another fabulous spot to
learn about early Anatolian history. It was a major city during the Assyrian
Trading Colonies period, perhaps even bigger than Kultepe/Kanesh. It has
yielded far fewer cuneiform tablets than Kultepe, largely because its Kanum
(Assyrian merchants’ colony) lies under the houses of the modern village,
precluding extensive excavation. Its palaces looked the same as those at
Kultepe, as they also all burned to the ground, leaving the characteristic
sulphurous yellow colour and contorted outlines we had seen at Kultepe. We were
the only tourists at the site, and we ran into Dr. Yalcin Kamis, the excavation
director, a professor at Nevsehir University. He was very generous with his
time and answered a host of our fairly naïve questions about the history of the
site, the region and the Hittite/Assyrian Trading Colonies period in general. I
walked away much more informed than I had been when I entered Acem Hoyuk.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-CA" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: medium; mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;"></span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiGndSWEHjwqDovDGFmEctoBwCSjHFC18TbkirzNDgb33d4xOm-jRGy0qs_-PtZwsekPv_0d1j_ZYB5-1ETFLe3chEsq5MdJq_xPheh4XENsNLap_WgNlrt-qFh7e3wH9oPgsCn0w-bAc/s1000/DSC_9354.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><img border="0" data-original-height="667" data-original-width="1000" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiGndSWEHjwqDovDGFmEctoBwCSjHFC18TbkirzNDgb33d4xOm-jRGy0qs_-PtZwsekPv_0d1j_ZYB5-1ETFLe3chEsq5MdJq_xPheh4XENsNLap_WgNlrt-qFh7e3wH9oPgsCn0w-bAc/w400-h266/DSC_9354.jpg" width="400" /></span></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Terri and Dr. Yalcin Kamis at Acem Hoyuk<br /><br /></span></td></tr></tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKzBlGpPi0VIFqS-70M6xW6QDl1imIAvFgQxRXBF5G-7b-bQjhDpa-2a47cueHrCnfLlrSGYJwq9fe5A-68FcXSPVmmbxmCZovuNTcWApqu2gCOiwHrjJ5_Ip1yqR8ewaXa18t3MavQT4/s1000/DSC_9362.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><img border="0" data-original-height="667" data-original-width="1000" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKzBlGpPi0VIFqS-70M6xW6QDl1imIAvFgQxRXBF5G-7b-bQjhDpa-2a47cueHrCnfLlrSGYJwq9fe5A-68FcXSPVmmbxmCZovuNTcWApqu2gCOiwHrjJ5_Ip1yqR8ewaXa18t3MavQT4/w400-h266/DSC_9362.jpg" width="400" /></span></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Tuz Golu and its causeway road<br /><br /></span></td></tr></tbody></table><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-CA" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: medium; mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;">We weren’t
done yet with the day’s explorations. We had seen photos of pink water in a
large inland salt lake to the north, so we raced north along the highway hoping
for a spectacular photo opportunity. As it turned out, while there is a large
salt lake (Tuz Golu), it’s much less pink and pristine and spectacular than
Instagram photos make it appear. We drove along the shore on the motorway,
trying to find a spot at which we could camp, and where the waters would look
amazing, but found neither. In the end we drove across the lake on a rough
causeway, past the enormous industrial salt works that disfigure much of the
lakeshore, and we ended up camped on the shore of a much smaller salt lake
(Duden Golu) a few kilometres inland from the main lake. We fried up mushrooms,
cheese and sausage and watched the stars overhead, spotting 4 meteors (from the
Perseid meteor shower) and 3 satellites before calling it a night.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixPf7TNdqqbpKqH1AofhXveUzHgffekC_W5v7cM7x8mEd-4qJbywPSi5XK8PCmKqXBLrWhIcpMPLjwB3tubuXUEbxDs9GTXJuGi2cZ81mtF-wd84Ib95Wt_eu3DQorx5FC80pAotg9eeY/s1000/DSC_9390.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><img border="0" data-original-height="667" data-original-width="1000" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixPf7TNdqqbpKqH1AofhXveUzHgffekC_W5v7cM7x8mEd-4qJbywPSi5XK8PCmKqXBLrWhIcpMPLjwB3tubuXUEbxDs9GTXJuGi2cZ81mtF-wd84Ib95Wt_eu3DQorx5FC80pAotg9eeY/w400-h266/DSC_9390.jpg" width="400" /></span></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Flamingoes take flight on Duden Golu<br /><br /></span></td></tr></tbody></table><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-CA" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: medium; mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;">Before
driving off the next morning, Terri and I went for a long walk along the dry
bed of the salt lake towards the open water that we could see in the distance.
After trudging for a few kilometres across the salt flats, we finally got to
the muddy edge of the vestigial lake which was full of flamingoes and geese and
four cranes who loomed large over their smaller neighbours. They were startled
by our presence and took flight in a huge, chaotic wave that made for a
memorable spectacle. After a long walk back to our car, we drove off in the
opposite direction to our arrival the night before, and in no time at all found
ourselves in a sizeable provincial town, Kulu, where we stopped for groceries
before jumping onto the main highway back south towards Konya. We drove through
heavy traffic and a dust haze whipped up by the summer winds off the parched
landscape and within an hour found ourselves at Catal Hoyuk.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1AVRP4xIL6ylAphh-0M5Z4KuNH8U-MvYGQh1dN7f8yteteeN81S1dl6BxbAzjvw8mrWLDwtjE_MWGQdLveBzUJKKfQf2PXSvXe0ONOmwHdRUyTeWtbDSq6DJvwJ2ohYnDzpIfsBmVDuw/s1000/DSC_9418.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><img border="0" data-original-height="668" data-original-width="1000" height="268" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1AVRP4xIL6ylAphh-0M5Z4KuNH8U-MvYGQh1dN7f8yteteeN81S1dl6BxbAzjvw8mrWLDwtjE_MWGQdLveBzUJKKfQf2PXSvXe0ONOmwHdRUyTeWtbDSq6DJvwJ2ohYnDzpIfsBmVDuw/w400-h268/DSC_9418.jpg" width="400" /></span></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Catal Hoyuk under its protective roof</span></td></tr></tbody></table><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-CA" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: medium; mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;">If you know
anything at all about human prehistory, chances are that you’ve read about
Catal Hoyuk, one of the earliest and best-known prehistoric sites in the world.
It’s been excavated since the 1950s, and the spectacular artistic finds and
burial practices have captivated people (and textbook writers) for decades.
Terri and I found that Catal Hoyuk is to a certain extent a prisoner of its own
fame and success. It’s visited by hordes of tourists and schoolchildren every
year, and boasts an impressive visitor’s centre and reconstructed buildings.
Unfortunately the level of communication is very much pitched towards
elementary school students rather than interested and educated adults, so it
feels very much as though you’re being talked down to by the signboards. </span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhC3dKbBYcMl3dN5q3AC0_Wk8OIhAzssFcsfsGybEdQ4JD7dPb16u87VWv4ppX0VggH4yMKCTbu2XqiMgy30nFipkwPgHMEqQQHX2n9XHTM02X8SPtvrheYe3NR1hGmNg6oL_d8OzBslq8/s1000/DSC_9413.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><img border="0" data-original-height="668" data-original-width="1000" height="268" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhC3dKbBYcMl3dN5q3AC0_Wk8OIhAzssFcsfsGybEdQ4JD7dPb16u87VWv4ppX0VggH4yMKCTbu2XqiMgy30nFipkwPgHMEqQQHX2n9XHTM02X8SPtvrheYe3NR1hGmNg6oL_d8OzBslq8/w400-h268/DSC_9413.jpg" width="400" /></span></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Reproduction of a famous Catal Hoyuk wall painting</span></td></tr></tbody></table><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-CA" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: medium; mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;">This
carping aside, though, Catal Hoyuk is very impressive, with two separate mounds
yielding houses and burials that talk to us over the intervening millennia.
Catal Hoyuk is actually a full millennium younger than Asikli Hoyuk, but its
artistic products, particularly the wall paintings of vultures and supernatural
creatures and hunting scenes, are unique and make for great textbook pages.
Just as during the second phase of habitation at Asikli Hoyuk, Catal Hoyuk’s
houses are cubical and rammed cheek-by-jowl with their neighbours, with
rooftops playing the role of streets. Ancestors seem to have been buried under
the floors of most houses, and occasionally the preserved and adorned heads of
ancestors seem to have been used in ritual purposes. We stood at the bottom of
the larger mound and gazed up at the levels of structures and ritual spaces and
were awestruck at the sheer weight of (pre-)history that loomed above us.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-CA" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: medium; mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;"></span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0PU2uRgA-633eLaWlE-j3RhKCZl0lnbbOgs71QGzv6QYKoYjiN0FfurdhHEPRS8yv8h3dArk-qGpV3X2qkw4TxkkhBH8DKHtUSOcC_sjroJSQlghfEItTwMlFN5wA9h6EcmDMt4vn-D8/s1000/DSC_9412.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><img border="0" data-original-height="668" data-original-width="1000" height="268" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0PU2uRgA-633eLaWlE-j3RhKCZl0lnbbOgs71QGzv6QYKoYjiN0FfurdhHEPRS8yv8h3dArk-qGpV3X2qkw4TxkkhBH8DKHtUSOcC_sjroJSQlghfEItTwMlFN5wA9h6EcmDMt4vn-D8/w400-h268/DSC_9412.jpg" width="400" /></span></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Vultures and the dead; reproduction of Catal Hoyuk painting<br /><br /></span></td></tr></tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpkfMZvJGJA6QQxOjtt9fayp3fNdeQ77zlnKh8sLpg8-nBPR3PNLcu9Pz15M69pRi14EbgGf3iXrlpCR9g7QEL6L1Ch0n0oDaKw_TxvozIg5mAtlci-1fO6bZ77nnWF_VS6ykXqZ8lH9g/s1000/DSC_9426.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><img border="0" data-original-height="668" data-original-width="1000" height="268" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpkfMZvJGJA6QQxOjtt9fayp3fNdeQ77zlnKh8sLpg8-nBPR3PNLcu9Pz15M69pRi14EbgGf3iXrlpCR9g7QEL6L1Ch0n0oDaKw_TxvozIg5mAtlci-1fO6bZ77nnWF_VS6ykXqZ8lH9g/w400-h268/DSC_9426.jpg" width="400" /></span></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Boncuklu Hoyuk excavation<br /><br /></span></td></tr></tbody></table><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-CA" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: medium; mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;">Having
recorded another Facebook Live video, we raced off through the oppressive dusty
heat (Catal Hoyuk’s surroundings have become a lot less fertile and welcoming
than they were in the 8<sup>th</sup> millennium BC!) to a nearby site mentioned
on a signboard, Boncuklu Hoyuk. Boncuklu was the antithesis of Catal: we were
the only tourists, there was no visitor’s centre or strictly enforced walking
path, and the excavation director for the site, Dr. Ian Baird of Liverpool
University, spent a half-hour showing us around the tiny excavation site and
talking about prehistory in Anatolia in general, and Boncuklu in particular.
Boncuklu is as old as Asikli Hoyuk (8400-7400 BC) and DNA from some of
Boncuklu’s inhabitants shows up thousands of years later in the first farmer
immigrants to Europe. The houses are like those in early Asikli, circular huts
semi-sunk into the ground, with ancestors buried beneath the southeast end of
the hut and hearths diametrically opposite in the northwest end. Interestingly
the bodies of lower-status individuals buried in garbage middens (rather than
under huts) seem to have had a different diet from those buried in huts, with
the midden burials showing more marsh-based diet of fish and snails and frogs
and turtles, and less big game. We watched his graduate students patiently
excavating lime-paved floors with trowels and dental picks and toothbrushes,
pausing from time to time to get Dr. Baird to take an official photo of
anything new and noteworthy. As at Asikli Hoyuk there were some experimental
archaeological replicas of huts, and also some plantations of emmer wheat and
other marsh vegetation. Boncuklu was once at the edge of a fertile marsh full
of ducks and other game birds; now it is in the midst of a hot, dusty,
unpleasant agricultural plain. We thanked Dr. Baird for his help and retreated,
wilted by the fierce heat, to a small hotel in Konya for a shower, air
conditioning and some takeout doner kebabs.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-CA" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: medium; mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;"></span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjkfobFg7AgtakQS5_IKsu4Y4MXuDghI5bW5ma-sCZ16j9DUhGJUO4zW2jewuMBZ1wLteu5pFGaInt4RhN2rMsRjfC-fehwt35YKAIs30aRL3S4mRFjKPTfifgJimYXG1aurAbSbHWq9Y/s1000/DSC_9427.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><img border="0" data-original-height="668" data-original-width="1000" height="268" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjkfobFg7AgtakQS5_IKsu4Y4MXuDghI5bW5ma-sCZ16j9DUhGJUO4zW2jewuMBZ1wLteu5pFGaInt4RhN2rMsRjfC-fehwt35YKAIs30aRL3S4mRFjKPTfifgJimYXG1aurAbSbHWq9Y/w400-h268/DSC_9427.jpg" width="400" /></span></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Terri and Dr. Ian Baird at Boncuklu Hoyuk<br /><br /></span></td></tr></tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQIOlsn3dWTynSJACsIXcRm7qKpCKLz4suhNq_wmGUWx68OE-nDaOukIAzW2ddshMh4-roVJst0RGvSAMQZaS8l6kxZiyTW2wVQBjUYiT8-mCPmpiJsfCH3zroDP7OkWdAtzPcVTLKYvw/s1000/DSC_9429.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1000" data-original-width="668" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQIOlsn3dWTynSJACsIXcRm7qKpCKLz4suhNq_wmGUWx68OE-nDaOukIAzW2ddshMh4-roVJst0RGvSAMQZaS8l6kxZiyTW2wVQBjUYiT8-mCPmpiJsfCH3zroDP7OkWdAtzPcVTLKYvw/w268-h400/DSC_9429.jpg" width="268" /></span></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Seraffedin Mosque, Konya</span></td></tr></tbody></table><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-CA" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: medium; mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;">Konya is a
neat city. I remember liking it a lot back in 1994, and it’s become lovelier,
with a lot of civic improvements following on from a general increase in
economic prosperity over the intervening decades. Known as Iconium in Roman
times, it became a major centre of Seljuk rule later on, but it’s most famous
now as the home of the mystic Persian-language poet Rumi, much beloved of
Western celebrities like Madonna and Coldplay. Known in Turkish as the Mevlana,
his life and history exert a huge pull on tourists today, attracting them to
Konya in droves. On the morning of August 27<sup>th</sup> we set off from the
hotel on a whistle-stop walking tour to see some of the top attractions of the
town. We saw the attractive Ottoman exterior of the Mevlana Museum, the Rococo
lavishness of the late-19<sup>th</sup> century Azizia Mosque, the more
austerely classical Ottoman Serafeddin Mosque and then the tomb and mosque of
Shams-i-Tabrizi who is revered as the spiritual guide and teacher of Rumi. A
low hill, manicured into an attractive modern park, held the large and plain
Seljuk Alaadin Mosque, while across the street lurked the truncated minaret of
the Ince Minaret Mosque. Konya, like so many mid-sized Turkish cities, has seen
a boom in municipal construction and beautification, and we walked along the
main circular boulevard towards the Archaeological Museum through a
construction site where parks and walkways were being added beside the lanes of
traffic. The Archaeological Museum was small and disappointing, a stark
contrast to the outstanding museums in Ankara and Kayseri. There were lots of
marble Roman sarcophagi, many featuring the Labours of Hercules, and some
original pieces of wall painting and burial goods from nearby Catal Hoyuk. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-CA" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: medium; mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;"></span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVvoTEOahiDgWc65NiQstIXDb_qSuZgtE1hAOgK7Oi_4p-WpwoJQC0e5VW8sfFSHmUdjH-S1n5TcOE6USfdDSLFEOwjTY79AdDHKx2t5iMnnAFRXiXuzztN5M_Pa4jQWTMsyGagLlC8_w/s1000/DSC_9435.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><img border="0" data-original-height="668" data-original-width="1000" height="268" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVvoTEOahiDgWc65NiQstIXDb_qSuZgtE1hAOgK7Oi_4p-WpwoJQC0e5VW8sfFSHmUdjH-S1n5TcOE6USfdDSLFEOwjTY79AdDHKx2t5iMnnAFRXiXuzztN5M_Pa4jQWTMsyGagLlC8_w/w400-h268/DSC_9435.jpg" width="400" /></span></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">The Ince Minaret, Konya<br /><br /></span></td></tr></tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuLB115TYN6NjvQe7ta6WSAB9o3-A-k-z-gnDAtMEaOIou5LYi58YCA93w7jX2AB4i3zxbqm9OvzLaedl30LddxFLJwxwda09ptqqmQcuHBm3vZ_aefYQ6C5a2gwOVj8_wafAD96eIkBw/s1000/DSC_9437.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><img border="0" data-original-height="668" data-original-width="1000" height="268" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuLB115TYN6NjvQe7ta6WSAB9o3-A-k-z-gnDAtMEaOIou5LYi58YCA93w7jX2AB4i3zxbqm9OvzLaedl30LddxFLJwxwda09ptqqmQcuHBm3vZ_aefYQ6C5a2gwOVj8_wafAD96eIkBw/w400-h268/DSC_9437.jpg" width="400" /></span></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">The Labours of Hercules<br /><br /></span></td></tr></tbody></table><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-CA" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: medium; mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;">We ambled
back to the hotel to drive out of town, only to find that our car trunk
wouldn’t open. After much headscratching and attempts by various folks to help,
we were finally advised to take it to the main Fiat dealership on the outskirts
of town. We followed Google Maps to a huge building with an outsized service
centre in the back. There were a lot of cars waiting to be serviced, but when
we explained our problem with the aid of Google Translate, we were whisked into
the shop where a mechanic skilfully broke into the trunk from behind the back seats
(we hadn’t been able to figure out how to move them forward, and there was a
trick to it), then found the electrical fault that had caused the problem and
rapidly fixed it. Our car was phenomenally dusty from driving on dirt roads,
and after finishing with the trunk, the mechanic took an air hose and
methodically blew all the dust out of the doors and the interior of the car.
When we went to pay, the gentleman in the reception waved away our credit card.
“You are our guest! No charge." I’m not sure whether it was a known fault under
warranty, or whether they were simply taking pity on two hapless and dusty
travellers, but it was a welcome surprise. We drove off smiling.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-CA" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: medium; mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;"></span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDkBVZZ_Rv9YUOE6Ey8NWRp43Mt0bMXYTZssRl_gnv9QUC2zcS2Nq3m4pUcC3d6X4Xhv04nxOQ3pkWWGFcmVb14xPMFg6bCul3TacwS3cVkz2HhqYwElHC3PcELrXQ2C75EJxNzKnMNz0/s1000/DSC_9443.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1000" data-original-width="668" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDkBVZZ_Rv9YUOE6Ey8NWRp43Mt0bMXYTZssRl_gnv9QUC2zcS2Nq3m4pUcC3d6X4Xhv04nxOQ3pkWWGFcmVb14xPMFg6bCul3TacwS3cVkz2HhqYwElHC3PcELrXQ2C75EJxNzKnMNz0/w268-h400/DSC_9443.jpg" width="268" /></span></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Child burial from Catal Hoyuk<br /><br /><b><span>In Search of the Phrygians</span></b><br /><br /></span></td></tr></tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEir7GshRltZq-gl0s0atlSqSziwQ0gUlxuE802A0-79NI2qOgFiL9rZdBdnAeqlmJwqRIS0j-ynrVyGNq5iLvZzmtM2ySxyDQWX6fU1KSXwTG8gNRVsWrH2KoCrfrqszRnX1jcE73XoopA/s1000/DSC_9462.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><img border="0" data-original-height="668" data-original-width="1000" height="268" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEir7GshRltZq-gl0s0atlSqSziwQ0gUlxuE802A0-79NI2qOgFiL9rZdBdnAeqlmJwqRIS0j-ynrVyGNq5iLvZzmtM2ySxyDQWX6fU1KSXwTG8gNRVsWrH2KoCrfrqszRnX1jcE73XoopA/w400-h268/DSC_9462.jpg" width="400" /></span></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Typican Phrygian tomb interior<br /><br /></span></td></tr></tbody></table><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-CA" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: medium; mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;">The last
few days of our explorations were devoted to searching out another lesser-known
ancient culture, the Phrygians. They are more recent than the Hittites (and
much, much more recent than the folks who inhabited Catal Hoyuk and Boncuklu
Hoyuk) and lived in the area just to the west of Ankara in the centuries before
the arrival of the Persian Empire. I didn’t know much about their culture other
than that they were always depicted in Persian and Greek reliefs wearing
distinctive soft caps, and that their most famous king was Midas, he of the
golden touch. We drove out of Konya across a dusty plain through enervating
summer heat and were relieved when the road gained altitude and climbed into
limestone hills with cooler temperatures and shady forests. We turned onto a
small, dusty road and checked out and rejected a couple of campsites before
settling into a secluded spot just off the track, nestled in a grove of pine
trees. We grilled chicken over charcoal while sipping a fine Cappadocian red
wine and watched the stars come out, glad to be off the Konya Plain.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgElxcR4mQ8jjbMEoe-8qw4G81bDg6vBFPCnZhndUCVhs3hKNYGIfuYZ5Zwf-wrgLiIt_wsUG29sclqMPrYsmq3aUh_tRw4Z09fJpU9LWTvxs4hQVobwkom8TdeAW92bk7HWRSqQa_o1lo/s1000/DSC_9465.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><img border="0" data-original-height="668" data-original-width="1000" height="268" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgElxcR4mQ8jjbMEoe-8qw4G81bDg6vBFPCnZhndUCVhs3hKNYGIfuYZ5Zwf-wrgLiIt_wsUG29sclqMPrYsmq3aUh_tRw4Z09fJpU9LWTvxs4hQVobwkom8TdeAW92bk7HWRSqQa_o1lo/w400-h268/DSC_9465.jpg" width="400" /></span></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Our first Phrygian tomb<br /><br /></span></td></tr></tbody></table><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-CA" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: medium; mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;">The next
morning we drove towards the King Midas Monument at Yazilikaya, through a
pleasant landscape of stony hills, meadows and pine forests. Before we got to
Yazilikaya, though, we turned off to follow a sign towards Phrygian tombs. We
parked the car and walked a couple of kilometres; we took a couple of wrong
turns, but eventually found ourself at a complex of cave tombs excavated into
outcrops, a bit reminiscent of Cappadocia but with much harder rock. The
scenery was photogenic, with bleached blond grass, azure skies and grey and
orange rock. Some of the tombs were quite large, perhaps family plots, with big
rectangular spaces divided into arched spaces for a dozen or more bodies. We
strolled back to the car pleased with our impromptu diversion.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjd54xbYFxl7voU7ZsA5ZLZyd0zDaYUa77Ldnle_G4BEiwRMX6dOHMNUlrL-YBzmP8nMl58UjHrb5X2yKWPAhlgqw_bUJhKTj_xU3E0t3kghVmMTqSnOcp30Yoh2abry4P0zrvZAbNbNZM/s1000/DSC_9480.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1000" data-original-width="668" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjd54xbYFxl7voU7ZsA5ZLZyd0zDaYUa77Ldnle_G4BEiwRMX6dOHMNUlrL-YBzmP8nMl58UjHrb5X2yKWPAhlgqw_bUJhKTj_xU3E0t3kghVmMTqSnOcp30Yoh2abry4P0zrvZAbNbNZM/w268-h400/DSC_9480.jpg" width="268" /></span></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">The Midas Monument, Yazilikaya</span></td></tr></tbody></table><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-CA" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: medium; mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;">Yazilikaya
(Turkish for “inscribed rock”; I just realized that this name is the same as
that given to site of the Hittite reliefs outside Hattusa) was spectacular,
much more impressive than I was expecting. We drove into a tiny village of
modest farm houses surrounded by lush orchards, and immediately our eyes were
drawn upward to the huge orange-tinged rock face on the hill above the town,
where we could see signs of ancient stonemasonry. We parked the car and set off
to investigate. We climbed up towards our destination, which revealed itself to
be a vast flat façade of a monument, chiselled into the stone of a steep
outcrop. Enormous effort had been expended in creating a structure that seemed
lifted straight out of Petra, with a classical roofline that would have not
have been out of place on the Parthenon. As we gazed up at it, we saw a line of
incised writing in an unfamiliar alphabet, Paleo-Phrygian. It was unfamiliar,
but not completely unknown; in fact, it looked a lot like an ancestor of the
ancient Greek alphabet, although partly written from right to left. The
textured stonework of the façade was intricate and beautiful, and we stood
below it, gazing up in admiration as clouds of swallows swooped and circled in
a mad whirligig of feathers and frolic. We strolled a little further along the
base of the cliff and found a tree full of the most delicious small yellow
plums to which we devoted twenty blissful minutes.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-CA" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: medium; mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;"></span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyyDVpYGa6D5h1yl6r21QmPgSG6VD7VuZB4fmW1kzQOu0G9ON_VTFQyLhD5_Do0RTgMmjqFLEqW6_JqWoKekunaJf9ThreFaQmkYXie89MQNqHI_9UFM1ksMA6bj6hrimt-3U-sA-bNdw/s1000/DSC_9482.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><img border="0" data-original-height="668" data-original-width="1000" height="268" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyyDVpYGa6D5h1yl6r21QmPgSG6VD7VuZB4fmW1kzQOu0G9ON_VTFQyLhD5_Do0RTgMmjqFLEqW6_JqWoKekunaJf9ThreFaQmkYXie89MQNqHI_9UFM1ksMA6bj6hrimt-3U-sA-bNdw/w400-h268/DSC_9482.jpg" width="400" /></span></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Paleo-Phrygian script<br /><br /></span><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTVbgV8xxQSsBk8DDqyX-Wk6edzrBm1EmVbPOfjNDWBELNsArxALgh1XPFNFNWT90URBxBTr97OO_1-04iiDwQmp_YFZYqioyU9uvCLi1CqA6av9TBBdqj0Fr1bqO8HgU3z_ot8_hXgbg/s1000/DSC_9486.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1000" data-original-width="668" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTVbgV8xxQSsBk8DDqyX-Wk6edzrBm1EmVbPOfjNDWBELNsArxALgh1XPFNFNWT90URBxBTr97OO_1-04iiDwQmp_YFZYqioyU9uvCLi1CqA6av9TBBdqj0Fr1bqO8HgU3z_ot8_hXgbg/w268-h400/DSC_9486.jpg" width="268" /></span></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">The world's tastiest plums<br /><br /></span></td></tr></tbody></table></td></tr></tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjq_2D5RGrXZu08G4H25BnAgywecPoCPYdOC5KWqcf_F-r9j7M6Y3758Gp_kr5OSzC_0TMcUqmf-B-j5uupPfe58-N-tdmSlvJBMmObXb91imr6KivkvWHncbV4aExgQ5h4Tf7C-jh3LJQ/s1000/DSC_9503.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><img border="0" data-original-height="668" data-original-width="1000" height="268" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjq_2D5RGrXZu08G4H25BnAgywecPoCPYdOC5KWqcf_F-r9j7M6Y3758Gp_kr5OSzC_0TMcUqmf-B-j5uupPfe58-N-tdmSlvJBMmObXb91imr6KivkvWHncbV4aExgQ5h4Tf7C-jh3LJQ/w400-h268/DSC_9503.jpg" width="400" /></span></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Atop the ruins of Yazilikaya<br /><br /></span></td></tr></tbody></table><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-CA" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: medium; mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;">We eventually
pulled ourselves away from our plum-scrumping and continued our explorations.
We had thought that the Midas Monument was all there was to see, but we hadn’t
done our homework. A path led along the base of the cliff before angling uphill
to disclose a vast spread of ruins. This had been a city, the major ceremonial
and religious site of the Phrygians, and they had left a lot behind. We spent
two hot but happy hours clambering up and around structures carved into the
solid rock. Our favourites were the vast and cavernous underground cisterns
with their precipitous staircases leading down into the welcome shaded coolness
of their depths. The city had had impressive waterworks (necessary if you’re
going to build a city atop a rocky hilltop), and an ancient spring provided
much needed water after two hours of sweaty ruins-exploring. On the way back to
the starting point we passed a series of underground tombs and another partially-built
monumental façade that was the smaller twin of the first one.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-CA" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: medium; mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;"></span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGTSoDZOE8ZW9d0vC5UnmUCH6b-tpHUDgx8j03AZylYo2TRqhbrmxdVc1plx9h1FPXxRGzUeVbH7LAsf5pzqcVkWfHj0NK64dfo7CqGuuKK6_J8gfnlWrs3UCAthvgAJlm_i_bIdSNzfQ/s1000/DSC_9523.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1000" data-original-width="668" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGTSoDZOE8ZW9d0vC5UnmUCH6b-tpHUDgx8j03AZylYo2TRqhbrmxdVc1plx9h1FPXxRGzUeVbH7LAsf5pzqcVkWfHj0NK64dfo7CqGuuKK6_J8gfnlWrs3UCAthvgAJlm_i_bIdSNzfQ/w268-h400/DSC_9523.jpg" width="268" /></span></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">The entrance to a subterranean cistern<br /><br /></span><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-F9MXMc0z-HtBZFu645TMI8lMwKWOqpS3TMT52WzfLBWfYE0B3sP0uKeo09BlhQj4dMY_yeUEPpYS7pmqdCdXaT-CKvjfpsr985rka1WeOp6nhEISlX7p5WJixkn07MR9Xf0vLKRXLfs/s1000/DSC_9526.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><img border="0" data-original-height="668" data-original-width="1000" height="268" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-F9MXMc0z-HtBZFu645TMI8lMwKWOqpS3TMT52WzfLBWfYE0B3sP0uKeo09BlhQj4dMY_yeUEPpYS7pmqdCdXaT-CKvjfpsr985rka1WeOp6nhEISlX7p5WJixkn07MR9Xf0vLKRXLfs/w400-h268/DSC_9526.jpg" width="400" /></span></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Incomplete monument, Yazilikaya<br /><br /></span></td></tr></tbody></table></td></tr></tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgetwo4hN9LwHTbdP-PzQ93JKb9NDAZPbdYqvXuzxDhjWnFAB8eFa_6dDmFKoBxsyXkB2VQob_nGDa1Gx9DuCXNsntap-PXTQ1KuvtaxoZffvZvvSOEMKxbbA-neGLduUowWhsrJwY-65s/s1000/DSC_9540.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><img border="0" data-original-height="668" data-original-width="1000" height="268" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgetwo4hN9LwHTbdP-PzQ93JKb9NDAZPbdYqvXuzxDhjWnFAB8eFa_6dDmFKoBxsyXkB2VQob_nGDa1Gx9DuCXNsntap-PXTQ1KuvtaxoZffvZvvSOEMKxbbA-neGLduUowWhsrJwY-65s/w400-h268/DSC_9540.jpg" width="400" /></span></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Phrygian tomb near Yazilikaya<br /><br /></span></td></tr></tbody></table><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-CA" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: medium; mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;">That
afternoon we explored a few more outlying tombs; the entire area is honeycombed
with funerary complexes, so we picked a couple at random, hoping to find one
where we could easily camp. The first one was where I realized that the
Proto-Phrygian inscription was more-or-less decipherable knowing the Greek
alphabet. The next tomb was set picturesquely partway up a cliff, providing
sweeping views out over the valley; the stonework inside the tomb was impressive.
The final tomb was at the end of a rocky track that was at the limit of what our
car could handle, and was perhaps the most picturesque of all, with a series of
tombs carved seemingly at random into a large rock outcrop. We scrambled up and
into as many as we could, marvelling at the construction and admiring the shafts
of light that pierced the darkness. Like many ancient societies, most of what
remains of the Phrygians seems to be graves, since they devoted such immense
effort into crafting imposing tombs.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-CA" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: medium; mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;"></span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJ-NYtKMdfpYkT5PIxX1VIIXMB9RL5kyPzk9ST4k2i3vtkFnTnCWKimbLiqICMDBqyhSMWGEd_GuWTRlJt9x3J3RE7wCkarg0bqREKrwGCNWzIqHcVSaY-9PkIs3EYsZXwUF21rdREH5Y/s1000/DSC_9543.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1000" data-original-width="668" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJ-NYtKMdfpYkT5PIxX1VIIXMB9RL5kyPzk9ST4k2i3vtkFnTnCWKimbLiqICMDBqyhSMWGEd_GuWTRlJt9x3J3RE7wCkarg0bqREKrwGCNWzIqHcVSaY-9PkIs3EYsZXwUF21rdREH5Y/w268-h400/DSC_9543.jpg" width="268" /></span></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Phrygian tomb near Yazilikaya<br /><br /></span></td></tr></tbody></table>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-CA" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: medium; mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;">Sweaty,
tired but exultant at our day with the Phrygians we gave up on camping near the
tombs and started driving north along the dirt road towards Eskisehir. The
valley was fairly densely settled, but as we climbed over a rise we were
surrounded by pine forests which provided a fine tent spot for the evening.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3nYjgnECg33FJ2pb_3ln3ebz7M0fnw3hAXJ77i7zONoPCX8bkih-49hgrDV6TlSECPSxWws8dUYRzcSPDdi7kUGFQglZE8QS-SYSm0f413QJq3HZgZKKlkUEB_AkAEBkRCR5PurQOw-o/s1000/DSC_9551.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><img border="0" data-original-height="668" data-original-width="1000" height="268" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3nYjgnECg33FJ2pb_3ln3ebz7M0fnw3hAXJ77i7zONoPCX8bkih-49hgrDV6TlSECPSxWws8dUYRzcSPDdi7kUGFQglZE8QS-SYSm0f413QJq3HZgZKKlkUEB_AkAEBkRCR5PurQOw-o/w400-h268/DSC_9551.jpg" width="400" /></span></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">The ruins of Gordion<br /><br /></span></td></tr></tbody></table><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-CA" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: medium; mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;">We had one
final major sight to visit before returning to Ankara and starting the long
journey to New Zealand. While Yazilikaya was the religious centre of the
Phrygian kingdom, the political capital lay to the east, in ancient Gordion. We
made our way there the next morning, via a stop in the major regional city of
Eskisehir for a workout in a local park and to visit the ancient site of
Dorylaeum. Dorylaeum was hard to find as it was mislabeled on Google Maps, but
we eventually located it on satellite view. It was utterly abandoned, a desolate
mound beside a highway in an industrial area near the airport. It had clearly
been heavily excavated over the years, but there were no signs or displays,
just potsherds and bits of marble crumbling out of the earth and a few deep
archaeological trenches. It was a major town in Roman and Byzantine times, site
of a key battle during the First Crusade, and we could see what must have been
the lower town and agora/forum across the road, but it didn’t offer us much to
look at, so we saddled up and drove towards Gordion.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbe1oJhVxfcafuCFMlQpSLHLLWMa_Zkn3dgDIrshEcx5Ek1pb_2ukqUBMhXSSaRVYBErJEiqeZMdA-_XHdN3oXPjfftfOF18SnHg1WpTZYg-72Mr4kYkK0TWvYraMVSTzRrDVoRZgZGjI/s1000/DSC_9564.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><img border="0" data-original-height="668" data-original-width="1000" height="268" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbe1oJhVxfcafuCFMlQpSLHLLWMa_Zkn3dgDIrshEcx5Ek1pb_2ukqUBMhXSSaRVYBErJEiqeZMdA-_XHdN3oXPjfftfOF18SnHg1WpTZYg-72Mr4kYkK0TWvYraMVSTzRrDVoRZgZGjI/w400-h268/DSC_9564.jpg" width="400" /></span></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Maybe the world's oldest geometric floor mosaic</span></td></tr></tbody></table><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-CA" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: medium; mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;">Gordion was
fabulous. We drove into town in the late afternoon and went directly to the
main excavation site, which sprawled untidily across the top of a large mound.
This was the city which was said to have been founded by Gordias, the father of
King Midas, sometime around 800 BC. It featured some impressive Cyclopean stonework
in its entrance gate, and a series of big “palaces” which seem, in the Minoan
style, to have been big industrial complexes as much as they were royal dwelling
places. This was clearly the capital of a wealthy and powerful kingdom; their
wealth was derived from gold mines (hence the story of the Midas Touch) and
trade, and, as at Yazilikaya, much of the wealth was devoted to crafting
funerary monuments. Standing atop the ruins, we could see at least a dozen
conical mounds rising above the valley floor, each of them a large tumulus
constructed atop the grave of a king or prominent noble. One mound in
particular stood out above the rest; known as the Midas Mound, it seems more
likely that Midas built it to mark the grave of his father Gordias. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_35NBuDmJEZU2oSBAvwGHBLbZryRfLDUViXC4KcxoYH1A7P9u3shOSiDZzm277PH54zHKHZM7d3S8AccYFhdEw8s6LacFDtM_PjHoI_Q0FNOD50Q1wCQl0jNi-rl4n0yJ-3pvoJmcvik/s1000/DSC_9569.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1000" data-original-width="668" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_35NBuDmJEZU2oSBAvwGHBLbZryRfLDUViXC4KcxoYH1A7P9u3shOSiDZzm277PH54zHKHZM7d3S8AccYFhdEw8s6LacFDtM_PjHoI_Q0FNOD50Q1wCQl0jNi-rl4n0yJ-3pvoJmcvik/w268-h400/DSC_9569.jpg" width="268" /></span></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">The entrance to the Midas/Gordias tumulus</span></td></tr></tbody></table><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-CA" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: medium; mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;">We drove towards
the mound, stopping in at the small site museum to admire the archaeological
finds. The most spectacular display was of a large geometrically inspired floor
mosaic found in a Phrygian house, said to be the oldest such mosaic found
anywhere. Terri, who’s taken up mosaic-making this year, was entranced. There
was a newer Greek-era mosaic as well, along with a couple of Phrygian tombs made
from cut stone that looked a bit Egyptian. Just before it closed for the day,
we scuttled across the road to the Midas/Gordias Mound and entered an
80-metre-long underground tunnel that led under the rubble to the grave in the
heart of the tumulus. It was constructed of massive timber beams that are,
improbably, still preserved intact. We weren’t allowed into the grave itself,
but peered in fascination through the steel bars at the 3800-year-old wooden
structure. It was yet another example of impressive ancient workmanship, and we
retreated to the road impressed. We camped that night on the lower slopes of another
tumulus, surrounded by ancient history and modern farm fields, grilling up lamb
and sitting out under the stars contemplating the ebb and flow of history.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-CA" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: medium; mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;"><br /></span></p>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcUzeORGdsED_eH9P_Ynl2hiHAppOdVxc1GSkOcEPxT7oB1T5q2A578XBBa7WNUbk8AfMz2hYvUrpqg8LFMrRJH2YbQonf19-yOGmgb27EJ0FAlNECCzaq5n1Cbvk6loa8AxLtlktr0iw/s1000/DSC_9570.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1000" data-original-width="668" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcUzeORGdsED_eH9P_Ynl2hiHAppOdVxc1GSkOcEPxT7oB1T5q2A578XBBa7WNUbk8AfMz2hYvUrpqg8LFMrRJH2YbQonf19-yOGmgb27EJ0FAlNECCzaq5n1Cbvk6loa8AxLtlktr0iw/w268-h400/DSC_9570.jpg" width="268" /></span></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Wooden tomb chamber, Gordion<br /><br /></span></td></tr></tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6DIoyDtEZrwiDtoIx04RobdrU1qDYk1ZHdSYFQ9dKA3jcKYq0SHuu1pzDfeEqR3esVr9Z8ju_QBvYFmKnQgdegPMXoghuEYCi440KuZ_LkcIFPOJxv5zLMLF-QQKdVnptaTswH2P446s/s1000/DSC_9577.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><img border="0" data-original-height="668" data-original-width="1000" height="268" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6DIoyDtEZrwiDtoIx04RobdrU1qDYk1ZHdSYFQ9dKA3jcKYq0SHuu1pzDfeEqR3esVr9Z8ju_QBvYFmKnQgdegPMXoghuEYCi440KuZ_LkcIFPOJxv5zLMLF-QQKdVnptaTswH2P446s/w400-h268/DSC_9577.jpg" width="400" /></span></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Victory Day parade, Ankara</span></td></tr></tbody></table><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-CA" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: medium; mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;">And that,
more or less, was that. We drove into Ankara the next morning, getting caught
in horrendous traffic, unable to reach our hotel (we had splashed out on a Radisson
hotel room since the depressed lira had made it affordable) because of street
closures for the annual Victory Day parade. We parked on a street full of shops
selling toilets and bathroom fittings and walked to the hotel, begging our way
through the police checkpoints. We spent the next day and a half relaxing in
our hotel before flying to Istanbul, where we got PCR tests in a vast facility
in the airport (the results were ready in only 2 hours, which makes me wonder
why other PCR tests take so long to produce results) and hung out in another,
shabbier Radisson near the old airport. And then we were off, flying Singapore
Airlines to Singapore and onto Auckland, our Turkish adventure at an end.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-CA" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Turkey was
very good to us on this trip. It was unexpectedly inexpensive due to the
devaluation of the lira (thank you President Erdogan!), and provided us both with
a host of historical sites that were new to both of us. Even areas that we had both
visited in the past, like Cappadocia, had new surprises in store for us. We
camped wild a lot of the time, and Turkey is a country well suited to this sort
of travel. The history that we encountered was fabulous in its breadth and in
its antiquity. We didn’t even touch the classical Greek/Roman sites of the
Aegean and Mediterranean coasts, and I’m sure there are plenty of fascinating
spots to explore if we find ourselves back in Turkey in the future, perhaps at the
wheel of our 4x4 camper Stanley.</span><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-CA" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-CA" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-635211973012255844.post-2842195784212786272021-09-14T03:11:00.001-07:002022-08-15T20:41:24.880-07:00Podcast interview, and another lap of the sun completed<!--Google tag (gtag.js)-->
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<p> Auckland, September 14, 2021</p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7gZOKhNWgWPHEapH5lO874DHnyt4FB06gTLAv46zDG578e1IMz3TG4dMGTLQiZqpKyAacR8NAxwxWzEqDW-G4KXIw2k-JVvypPn9JK41RfKQ3OAYAiCv4TwVDdskP4eOq_kwmJBF6RTU/s2048/DSC_9640.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1383" data-original-width="2048" height="270" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7gZOKhNWgWPHEapH5lO874DHnyt4FB06gTLAv46zDG578e1IMz3TG4dMGTLQiZqpKyAacR8NAxwxWzEqDW-G4KXIw2k-JVvypPn9JK41RfKQ3OAYAiCv4TwVDdskP4eOq_kwmJBF6RTU/w400-h270/DSC_9640.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My official 53rd birthday photo<br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><p style="text-align: justify;">Greetings from a five-star hotel in downtown Auckland, New Zealand. The Rydges Hotel is being used as a covid-19 Managed Isolation and Quarantine (MIQ) facility for people arriving in New Zealand from overseas. Everyone entering the country needs to do 2 weeks in an MIQ facility, getting tested a few times for covid along the way, in the effort to keep the country covid-free. Ironically, the country is in a lockdown at the moment because a month ago coronavirus managed to leak out of an MIQ facility and get into the community. We are hopeful that within a few days of our release on Sunday that the country will be able to relax its strict lockdown so that we can travel around freely to explore this amazing place.</p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-uPObkIQyMU6YM34k1U4I0Vm8vK45SCvBOBr4SMEpSIqpSJdpKB6WvkqEXDN9Wx75IC9NJKtRn4QYfPjLi9kmOlB4JyT2m3DPu05GoAVvR2-o-q1N-L8bCq5Lhfri52SYAsipTm5QDeg/s2992/DSC_9503.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2000" data-original-width="2992" height="268" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-uPObkIQyMU6YM34k1U4I0Vm8vK45SCvBOBr4SMEpSIqpSJdpKB6WvkqEXDN9Wx75IC9NJKtRn4QYfPjLi9kmOlB4JyT2m3DPu05GoAVvR2-o-q1N-L8bCq5Lhfri52SYAsipTm5QDeg/w400-h268/DSC_9503.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Me atop the Midas Monument in Phrygia, Turkey</td></tr></tbody></table><p style="text-align: justify;">We spent three weeks in Turkey before coming to New Zealand, and I should have a post up soon about that trip, during which we explored parts of Turkey that I had not seen in three previous visits to that fascinating country. Lots of history and archaeology on this trip, which was centred on the interior of the Anatolian peninsula, rather than on the usual coastal tourist hotspots.</p><p style="text-align: justify;"><br /></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifvGQOQSDaAPOtAUtNoGLN7o6puZAK2aI34w2orr6ylmwP5yahfTAb-OT2oGLPvuZZR6QmCxm8Q4n5UX8xxVmUktHicjirv9j1NIg_Nu5_2B8PuywfV9AfV53fsQEhycLre2sD_4RwJuo/s2048/DSC_9651.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1365" data-original-width="2048" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifvGQOQSDaAPOtAUtNoGLN7o6puZAK2aI34w2orr6ylmwP5yahfTAb-OT2oGLPvuZZR6QmCxm8Q4n5UX8xxVmUktHicjirv9j1NIg_Nu5_2B8PuywfV9AfV53fsQEhycLre2sD_4RwJuo/w400-h266/DSC_9651.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The birthday cake that the hotel brought to our room</td></tr></tbody></table><p style="text-align: justify;">It was my 53rd birthday yesterday, and while being locked inside a hotel room isn't exactly how I would choose to spend the day, it could be worse. The hotel food is excellent, the hotel brought me birthday cake and Terri and I shared a bottle of New Zealand bubbly wine to mark the occasion.</p><p style="text-align: justify;">In our MIQ room, I recorded a podcast interview a few days ago with Aaron Millar, the creator of the <a href="https://www.armchair-explorer.com/" target="_blank">Armchair Explorer podcast</a>. We talked about <i><a href="https://www.amazon.com/dp/B08X6GTK43">Pedalling To Kailash</a></i> and the bicycle expedition that inspired the book, and Aaron's skillful editing made me sound much wiser, wittier, fluent and coherent than I usually am in conversation. <a href="https://podcasts.google.com/feed/aHR0cHM6Ly9mZWVkcy5idXp6c3Byb3V0LmNvbS83NjIxNTIucnNz/episode/QnV6enNwcm91dC05MTg3MzIx?ep=14" target="_blank">It's a great episode to listen to, and you can find it here.</a> It's almost (but not quite) as good as reading the book itself. I hope some of you, my gentle readers, take the time to listen to the interview.</p><p style="text-align: justify;">I'll be back in a few days with a blog post about the Turkey trip. Until then, peace and tailwinds!<br /><br /></p>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-635211973012255844.post-66815772426073305662021-07-21T00:02:00.006-07:002022-08-16T05:58:45.833-07:00A Lap of Magical Namibia (Retrospective from May-June 2018)<!-- Google tag (gtag.js) -->
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfnUmMGKBxnofaALa0zBitEaiI5BBFBcY2GWiUvQ8VfC0zd8iCq26xQ8HUECq-7bN595ML7bPiJVJ5GiNgqGCQcZY-e_V_cUHVlnY6SRVjwTuARU5qYSm4cUELZ_UQic-qS0mY-Hag22s/s1200/DSC_4770.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="800" data-original-width="1200" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfnUmMGKBxnofaALa0zBitEaiI5BBFBcY2GWiUvQ8VfC0zd8iCq26xQ8HUECq-7bN595ML7bPiJVJ5GiNgqGCQcZY-e_V_cUHVlnY6SRVjwTuARU5qYSm4cUELZ_UQic-qS0mY-Hag22s/w640-h426/DSC_4770.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Golden late-afternoon light on the dry grass in northern Kaokoland</td></tr></tbody></table><p> </p><div><iframe height="480" src="https://www.google.com/maps/d/u/0/embed?mid=1EqzEjSoggeyyMATZsw0HFvjE598P3oIl" width="640"></iframe></div><p></p><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">Lipah,
Bali, July 21<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 16pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">An Unexpected Return to Namibia<o:p></o:p></span></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;"> </span></p>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbqjR7eZ-vX_Us4NeBC7gmF4RhWQxcgqBMOC0Ezx2IgToP9mZ7yoYy135SWDa0rT4zATSrK2UkREy9GeurHEYwlYhIM1J5tYsupATWmt1GjpH46Es_enbkrP9WT7qGN0UP7kQ4Go5dlo8/s1000/DSC_6020.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1000" data-original-width="667" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbqjR7eZ-vX_Us4NeBC7gmF4RhWQxcgqBMOC0Ezx2IgToP9mZ7yoYy135SWDa0rT4zATSrK2UkREy9GeurHEYwlYhIM1J5tYsupATWmt1GjpH46Es_enbkrP9WT7qGN0UP7kQ4Go5dlo8/w268-h400/DSC_6020.jpg" width="268" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Tiny desert flower</td></tr></tbody></table><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">When
Terri and I first bought Stanley in Johannesburg over five years ago, the
southern African country we were most excited about exploring was Botswana,
with its incomparable wildlife reserves. When we talked with other overlanders
and with South African tourists in the various campsites we stayed at, though,
there was another country that brought a dreamy look to the eyes of our
interlocutors. "Namibia: now there's a great country!" We ended up
leaving Namibia for last during our year-long exploration of southern Africa, <a href="http://graydonstravels.blogspot.com/2017/03/first-adventures-in-namibia-january.html" target="_blank">visitingit between January and March 2017</a>, and we ended up agreeing with the other
overlanders. By this point, we had started to appreciate the finer points of
camping in Stanley: a good campfire, a freezer full of frozen meat and vegetables,
our awning spread out against the glare of the midday sun, a view of sunset
complemented with sundowner drinks and aperitifs. More or less by accident, we
came across a stretch of nearly uninhabited land in Damaraland where we camped
for a few days, and we always wanted to return to explore this region more
fully. On that 2017 loop <a href="http://graydonstravels.blogspot.com/2017/04/last-lap-of-namibia-farewell-to-stanley.html" target="_blank">we made it up to Epupa Falls</a>, right up against the
Angolan border, but we knew that further to the west lay the Marienfluss,
another area of incomparable beauty, and we decided to save that for our
next installment of Stanley's Travels. In March 2017 we parked Stanley at
<a href="https://www.transkalahari-inn.com/" target="_blank">Trans Kalahari Inn outside Windhoek, a popular place for overlanders</a> to store
their vehicles between trips. I flew back to Thunder Bay to help care for my ailing
father, and Terri headed to New Zealand. We weren't sure when we'd be back, but
we thought it might be in a couple of years, and when we came back, we would
return to Namibia.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;"> </span></p>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgEAM_ePsDMk5XUfG2ffJ8kiCTwCYDT2KnRKY_9zhUIAcV-kb3gBDLavr9Do3Vy4YaqmDSDy5rc_bXARQasIuC6tbtOSV1i5oeFwMoRrIy4MxJ73qfxp-D0dwq0Etpe4OnClo76lvuALs/s1000/DSC_6004.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1000" data-original-width="667" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgEAM_ePsDMk5XUfG2ffJ8kiCTwCYDT2KnRKY_9zhUIAcV-kb3gBDLavr9Do3Vy4YaqmDSDy5rc_bXARQasIuC6tbtOSV1i5oeFwMoRrIy4MxJ73qfxp-D0dwq0Etpe4OnClo76lvuALs/w268-h400/DSC_6004.jpg" width="268" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Cool desert flower</td></tr></tbody></table><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">In March
of 2018, after seven months in Bali, Terri and I found ourselves in New Zealand
on a two-month exploration of the North Island. We had just finished <a href="http://graydonstravels.blogspot.com/2018/04/new-zealand-feb-2018-northland-loop.html" target="_blank">a lovelyovernight hike near Cape Reinga, the northernmost point on the North Island</a>,
when I received a couple of unexpected e-mails. One was from the QSI school in
Tbilisi, Georgia, offering me a teaching job starting in August, 2018, an offer
that I accepted.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">The other
was from Trans Kalahari Inn telling us that Namibia's Customs Service had
conducted a raid looking for South African-registered vehicles, and that they had
impounded Stanley and several other overlanding vehicles. When we had driven
into Namibia from South Africa, there had been none of the usual formalities we
were used to from other borders; we hadn't had to apply for a Temporary Import
Permit, and somehow we had acquired the mistaken impression that Namibia and
South Africa operated as one big customs union as far as cars go. We were
gravely mistaken; we had overstayed the six months that we were allowed to keep
the car in Namibia, and we were now liable for serious fines and possible loss
of our vehicle.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;"> </span></p>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXI99MWJt_T6MQBYvZ_NqqnUINN2rtDQkmo3wmcB-68mshk47xkUnsPyjxF5bhEZ_FIvdunPs0-FFaW3X1WXWuPo2qxuhQrWQToIUMmssfDgG8fPxaeel45d1Xn_5dikH1Py58Xq-3xp4/s1200/DSC_4342.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="800" data-original-width="1200" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXI99MWJt_T6MQBYvZ_NqqnUINN2rtDQkmo3wmcB-68mshk47xkUnsPyjxF5bhEZ_FIvdunPs0-FFaW3X1WXWuPo2qxuhQrWQToIUMmssfDgG8fPxaeel45d1Xn_5dikH1Py58Xq-3xp4/w400-h266/DSC_4342.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Welwitschia plant<br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">After a
lot of back and forth with the folks at Trans Kalahari who were negotiating
with the Customs folks on our behalf, it turned out that our best option was to
pay an import fee and a moderate fine; the import fee (about US$2000) would be
returned to us if and when we brought Stanley back to South Africa. We decided
that it would make the most sense for us to fly to Namibia once we were
finished with our New Zealand trip, do another lap of the country, and then
continue down to Cape Town to leave Stanley in storage there. That way we could
reclaim the import fee and have a great trip at the same time. </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">Thus it
was that, sooner than expected and under a certain amount of bureaucratic
pressure, Terri and I found ourselves rendezvousing in Johannesburg airport on
May 14th; Terri was coming from a week's work in Livingstone, Zambia, at <a href="http://olivetreelearningcentre.com/" target="_blank">OliveTree Learning Centre, the school she has been running </a>in an impoverished
neighbourhood since 2006, while I was coming from our home base in Bali. (Oh,
those long-ago pre-pandemic carefree days of being able to flit from continent
to continent without a care in the world....) We headed off to Trans Kalahari,
checked into indoor accommodation and fell soundly asleep to the nocturnal
sounds and smells of the African veldt. It felt good to be back!<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 107%;">The
Road to Damaraland<o:p></o:p></span></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"> </span></p>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOR4xFq5V3n5CbiVib4XbcGXk2fsQ8ZRadBxC39XplDWmxJwbh2Qqv4nj4yRyRdnNIPzrj-WW7t_tj9_4t3x8E_Qft1RoMZAK7f5cMK3xUPy82xE-BJ6-2CKO9_6mBbkAw7Ya3yszqG9k/s1000/DSC_6019.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="666" data-original-width="1000" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOR4xFq5V3n5CbiVib4XbcGXk2fsQ8ZRadBxC39XplDWmxJwbh2Qqv4nj4yRyRdnNIPzrj-WW7t_tj9_4t3x8E_Qft1RoMZAK7f5cMK3xUPy82xE-BJ6-2CKO9_6mBbkAw7Ya3yszqG9k/w400-h266/DSC_6019.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Flower and beetle</td></tr></tbody></table><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">If you look at a map of
Namibia, it looks pretty empty and vast, and for the most part it is. However, there are differing degrees of emptiness
as you move across the landscape. Along the coast, the Namib Desert is
waterless and essentially uninhabitable, except in a couple of spots with
springs. The Skeleton Coast is bleak, windswept and salty. As you move inland
and uphill, though, there is a strip of country running parallel to the coast
that has a tiny bit more moisture. Not enough for people to live in any great
numbers, but enough for there to be scattered hardy vegetation like the
ancient-looking welwitschia, along with crickets, lizards, chameleons and even
a few desert-adapted big mammals like elephants, black rhinos, lions, oryx and
springbok. They survive along seasonal watercourses and around waterholes. This
landscape isn’t useful for farming or ranching, so it’s unfenced for the most part,
just a huge unbounded barren landscape that makes you feel tiny, insignificant
and vulnerable. The part of the sweet spot strip north of Swakopmund and inland
of the Skeleton coast is Damaraland, and it was here that we decided to head
first.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">It took a while to get
ourselves out of Windhoek. We had to get Stanley ready for the rigours of the
road, and do our paperwork for the eventual re-export back to South Africa. It
took us two and a half days in total, including one day where we left Stanley
at a garage to get some work done, cycled off on our folding bikes to a
shopping mall, returned and found that with all the gear packed into the back,
Stanley was too heavy for the 4-ton lift at the garage. We unpacked most of the
stuff (including the fridge and its contents), scattered it on the ground and
sat there watching over it while the garage staff worked on it. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi60XzUxyQPeDkoKYDcIwyg7IshrEr1TkewrSTAvAZW2OmsfElwjQ0hQyTvZOBCm-MJgEZgQKV4KalP396yCJlIe7oCVLM1guFNHY3eKfkzs3Ng6d5trM4_MD_DJQM7JDcPA9sFLwQQdeg/s1000/DSC_5974.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="667" data-original-width="1000" height="268" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi60XzUxyQPeDkoKYDcIwyg7IshrEr1TkewrSTAvAZW2OmsfElwjQ0hQyTvZOBCm-MJgEZgQKV4KalP396yCJlIe7oCVLM1guFNHY3eKfkzs3Ng6d5trM4_MD_DJQM7JDcPA9sFLwQQdeg/w400-h268/DSC_5974.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The essence of camping!<br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">We finally drove off at
3:00 pm with Stanley mechanically sound and fully stocked up with food, and
drove off north towards Swakopmund. The highway, usually in excellent shape,
was undergoing extensive construction work, and at one point where we had to
bump off the pavement and onto a dusty track beside the road, a huge truck
coming the other way came flying along far too quickly, took the turn far too
wide and drove us off the road. It all happened very quickly, and I was lucky
that there was enough space to dodge, because the truck was huge and heavily
loaded and wasn’t stopping for anything or anyone. I don’t know if the driver
was drunk or on drugs, but it was amazingly bad driving. It was all over in the
blink of an eye, with us stopped on the very edge of the detour track and the
truck disappearing behind us in a cloud of dust. We stopped to let our
adrenaline levels return to normal; it was unpleasantly reminiscent of our
accident in South Africa in May, 2016. Many folks who hear about our travels in
Africa ask me “Is it safe?”, probably worrying about crime and terrorism and warfare;
the truth is that, as in most places in the world, the most dangerous thing we
do in Africa is to drive.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">We got back on the road
and continued driving. Along the way, we saw a couple of ambulances racing past
us in the opposite direction, and wondered whether the truck driver had caused
an accident somewhere behind us; he certainly was driving recklessly enough for
that to have happened.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">With a few new gray hairs
and with dusk descending, we made our way into the town of Okatandjo, where we
found a pleasantly deserted campground behind a hotel to spend the night. It
felt like liberation to be back in our beloved camper under African skies
again, and we had perhaps a bit more South African wine than we should have in
celebration, both of being camping in Namibia again, and of still being alive
after the excitement of that afternoon.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1tiALGyWE7kcYzKj4TYP5o68qpfmvEz8oAnHazbnvAP4mJ1zCMjInqVMnegpdkrs6xX47pPxief7Ize2CgSxlLmWNmghMCxSfUHQsLHgaUUx-EB8yb067lX-vcRf3PVtp5hKZ88ecF54/s1200/DSC_4211.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="800" data-original-width="1200" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1tiALGyWE7kcYzKj4TYP5o68qpfmvEz8oAnHazbnvAP4mJ1zCMjInqVMnegpdkrs6xX47pPxief7Ize2CgSxlLmWNmghMCxSfUHQsLHgaUUx-EB8yb067lX-vcRf3PVtp5hKZ88ecF54/w400-h266/DSC_4211.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The fine, dry grass catches the afternoon light in Damaraland<br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">The next day, after a
long, lazy, late getaway in anticipation of a short drive to <a href="http://www.ameib.com/site.html" target="_blank">Ameib Ranch</a>, where
we had camped the previous year, we arrived at the end of the bumpy track to
find a sign saying that Ameib was closed until further notice. We contemplated
going on towards Spitzkoppe, a local scenic spot, but ominous dark clouds on
the horizon, plus some concerns about Stanley’s electrical system (we had
problems starting him that morning in the campsite) made us decide to head
straight towards the coast at Swakopmund where an electrician could have a look
at him. We made the right decision; as we approached the coast, we drove
through steady and increasing rain, highly unusual at any time in the Namib
Desert, but particularly at that time of year. We found a place to sleep
indoors out of the rain, had a delicious Italian dinner and then turned in,
tired from travel and jet lag.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">We arose to a very
soggy-looking Swakopmund and got ourselves to the auto electrician at opening
time. He diagnosed a short circuit in our trailer plug which he fixed before we
set off at 11:30 north up the Skeleton Coast. The rain had softened the road
surface (made of a mixture of mud and salt), and ongoing road construction had
us on and off the road through very muddy detours. Windhoek residents as well
as South African overlanders often love the Skeleton Coast, particularly for
fishing, but I find it bleak, windy and unattractive. We kept trundling north
until turning off towards the interior around 3 pm. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2fONS6czDDyYAVTF64R6o0UY15KDVpvTEwwnO_HEu6izNrQFSzc9sWeqWrHEjlPXE3xhoS29vwWWqNtBwK5rsveOScS2ITW776tm2lbHauw4-lCLQfypiDQ3sS8Fg9M2cehVcKd4uqVk/s1200/DSC_4271.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="798" data-original-width="1200" height="265" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2fONS6czDDyYAVTF64R6o0UY15KDVpvTEwwnO_HEu6izNrQFSzc9sWeqWrHEjlPXE3xhoS29vwWWqNtBwK5rsveOScS2ITW776tm2lbHauw4-lCLQfypiDQ3sS8Fg9M2cehVcKd4uqVk/w400-h265/DSC_4271.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ruppell's korhaan</td></tr></tbody></table><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">The scenery very slowly
became less featureless and lifeless as we headed inland and uphill. We spotted
a few hardy springbok in the desert shortly after turning uphill; it was hard
to figure out what they ate to survive. The dirt road was heavily corrugated
and rough in places, and we were glad that we had let a lot of air out of the
tires to make for a softer ride. By 5 pm we had arrived at the place that we
had camped the year before, a spot in the middle of nowhere not far off the D2303.
We moved a bit further off the main road, found a level spot on the hard gravel
and set up camp for the next few days. It felt good to have arrived back in the
wilds of Damaraland! We started up a charcoal fire and Terri rustled up a bean
stew. The late afternoon light caught the sparse blonde grass and set the
desert aflame, while kori bustards, Ruppell’s korhaans and Temminck’s coursers
patrolled the ground, looking for snakes, reptiles and insects to eat. As
daylight faded from the sky, the awe-inspiring night sky began to reveal
itself, with a brilliant Venus, a crescent moon and Jupiter in the west while
the Southern Cross, Centaurus, the Large Magellanic Cloud, Orion, Gemini, Ursa
Major, Sirius and the Milky Way filled the rest of the sky. With no manmade
light for a hundred kilometres around and dry desert air overhead, it might
have been the most perfect night sky we had ever seen. I brought along a tripod
for the trip expressly for astrophotography, so after dinner I set my Nikon
D7200 on it and tried my hand at astrophotography, a pursuit that would keep me
busy most evenings in the desert over the following weeks. We had a whisky
nightcap in our camp chairs, staring up at the stars and down at our campfire,
then crawled into Stanley for a night of perfect stillness and uninterrupted
sleep.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"> </span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaela7GTnz9lkNIQhgRDjgunS2jXlBj5NV_x3uRHhMSq9OWI8z-Rd2kQFCbPVN4v0jQ3-_eSMuelEI0ptQRWlT-wktM1Btt9nifPSpnzOR7PspK14PRcwM7AJ4zH7SFzbbG1U9y5PBPbU/s1200/DSC_4610.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="800" data-original-width="1200" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaela7GTnz9lkNIQhgRDjgunS2jXlBj5NV_x3uRHhMSq9OWI8z-Rd2kQFCbPVN4v0jQ3-_eSMuelEI0ptQRWlT-wktM1Btt9nifPSpnzOR7PspK14PRcwM7AJ4zH7SFzbbG1U9y5PBPbU/w640-h426/DSC_4610.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A lovely landscape for a stroll<br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 107%;">Damaraland
Days<o:p></o:p></span></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"> </span></p>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjStADxL3Y0DHQY_7jiTKivkFWAdIgLo7CNyGEtIgkdFmRi1-oMnTZT3Rh8cxgozeRWSDhFgXlZNZG-T4b2ab83cCA7Z-CwaTf_nBfCZXR3fFvFPSWgxTfRgopZt7uPKe3BTCzb3DQyNh8/s1200/DSC_4275.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="800" data-original-width="1200" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjStADxL3Y0DHQY_7jiTKivkFWAdIgLo7CNyGEtIgkdFmRi1-oMnTZT3Rh8cxgozeRWSDhFgXlZNZG-T4b2ab83cCA7Z-CwaTf_nBfCZXR3fFvFPSWgxTfRgopZt7uPKe3BTCzb3DQyNh8/w400-h266/DSC_4275.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The artist, her creation and her inspiration</td></tr></tbody></table><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">We ended up spending
three nights at our campsite, relaxing, hiking, cooking, taking photos and
absorbing the perfect stillness and isolation of the Namibian desert. On the
first morning we awoke with the dawn to 11 degrees and heavy dew. We
breakfasted outdoors at our camp table and then set off for a long walk through
the desert. A heavier-than-usual rainy season had left the desert far greener than
on our last visit fifteen months earlier. My new camera, bought after the theft
of its predecessor in northern Namibia the year before, was compatible with an
old macro lens that I had had kicking around for the previous decade, and I
spent a lot of time taking photos of the colourful wildflowers poking up in the
grasslands. We weren’t the only ones wandering through the grass; a well-worn
game trail led along the bottom of the shallow valley, dotted with gemsbok
(oryx) and springbok droppings and (much more exciting) what seemed to be
rhinoceros footprints. Although rarely seen, this desert region of Namibia is
home to the largest population of black rhinoceros living in the wild anywhere
in Africa, and we were mildly hopeful of spotting one, as the previous year we
had found lots of rhinoceros dung up in the Palmweg concession. (Our hopes went
unfulfilled, sadly.) Eventually the sun raised the temperature from chilly to
broiling, and we retraced our steps back to Stanley for lunch and an afternoon
of reading and sketching in the shade of our awning.<o:p></o:p></span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhopGq05NQC-JdofBgPRXCVrsHF55gNlv1rNeCt6abswgAQNekwnXA1FZBDEjGxx9QI_z_hyphenhyphendi_EiMbUugH_4ptc23zCvF72rqYXVAMVGXBo1pD1xA4IeGpo20o315moIlthvC9QEqvI_Y/s1200/DSC_4540.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="800" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhopGq05NQC-JdofBgPRXCVrsHF55gNlv1rNeCt6abswgAQNekwnXA1FZBDEjGxx9QI_z_hyphenhyphendi_EiMbUugH_4ptc23zCvF72rqYXVAMVGXBo1pD1xA4IeGpo20o315moIlthvC9QEqvI_Y/w266-h400/DSC_4540.jpg" width="266" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Check out this korhaan's amazing eyelashes!<br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4isIermt70D1FzBaWdnRavDnMIcpcAC6dqjOXKO9z265c-c1_WkjJZA_ShqkasZ9-VCEHJdWtV9150oqAsy71EKlsrpTaMP9em2E-yghy0CzKpySBISY47YkAfOOHJS0qoGLH-5u6txg/s1200/DSC_4253.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="800" data-original-width="1200" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4isIermt70D1FzBaWdnRavDnMIcpcAC6dqjOXKO9z265c-c1_WkjJZA_ShqkasZ9-VCEHJdWtV9150oqAsy71EKlsrpTaMP9em2E-yghy0CzKpySBISY47YkAfOOHJS0qoGLH-5u6txg/w400-h266/DSC_4253.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Stanley, looking tiny in an immense landscape <br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieS2XfRBotIN3iOamCa2H29eUhPYHVl6VJuOGCrWmZcWk-kdZV-1DladZ46kWoSyIOfNXoTf4mujnmFiO_BGFtvQIsAQ7iZRLYDMK6xvdMtQEFjyG283YugkUg3ldfyFIqlrQF0ORs2NI/s1200/DSC_4208.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="801" data-original-width="1200" height="268" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieS2XfRBotIN3iOamCa2H29eUhPYHVl6VJuOGCrWmZcWk-kdZV-1DladZ46kWoSyIOfNXoTf4mujnmFiO_BGFtvQIsAQ7iZRLYDMK6xvdMtQEFjyG283YugkUg3ldfyFIqlrQF0ORs2NI/w400-h268/DSC_4208.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My first photo of Jupiter and its 4 largest moons</td></tr></tbody></table><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">Our second day, May 21<sup>st</sup>,
was what my diary describes as an A+ day. We were up with the sun again, and
after breakfast we went for a longer hike along the dry valley and then up onto
a steeper, rocky rise studded with wildflowers and intriguingly eroded rocks.
From the top we had expansive views down towards the haze of the Skeleton Coast
and inland into the labyrinth of rocky canyons that stretch to the northeast.
Stanley appeared as a tiny white dot, barely noticeable in the vast landscape.
We wandered downhill again for a leisurely lunch and then a few chores, fixing
a leaking gas line on our stove and topping up the oil in our transfer case.
Then it was time for juggling, pushups, reading and a pea soup that Terri had
prepared over the fire in our new potjie, a cast-iron pot/Dutch oven that every
South African couple seems to carry on camping trips. The soup was almost a
religious experience, sopped up with delicious German bread from Swakopmund. We
sat sipping South African pinotage wine and watched the sunset paint the desert
red. As darkness fell we lit a campfire from the bits of dry wood we had found
lying around in the desert and sat gazing up at the heavens. I was able for the
first time to take a photo of the 4 Galilean moons beside the disc of Jupiter,
a good first accomplishment in my astrophotography career.<o:p></o:p></span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9QQYceezA-9ArXXIpXlc9auxh9TdlLpFcPf-n-bdkZb0HtpxkW6Gi8Fzl5yUYu1mDwbS40VmtOLI4MmrKPUVRGzsqKNtsFEiOzigEYU8FXfFGw0Tv1dbcUrVZuPHSGxVS9LLAq8CEbIg/s1200/DSC_4356.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="800" data-original-width="1200" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9QQYceezA-9ArXXIpXlc9auxh9TdlLpFcPf-n-bdkZb0HtpxkW6Gi8Fzl5yUYu1mDwbS40VmtOLI4MmrKPUVRGzsqKNtsFEiOzigEYU8FXfFGw0Tv1dbcUrVZuPHSGxVS9LLAq8CEbIg/w400-h266/DSC_4356.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption">Hartmann's mountain zebra<br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFJtLCEWsfwrX4dr6MhoLPAZsfIzAehB1AQDNZ1OCdSXFi55rOjci-eJLeytrRGPpAK0QVwxd0DjFNiWPWv7GgK8ktd6VNeOn8H6f-f2XAGzoD2x90kKzWlawgysmaXAMtv1MWp8aQhoM/s1200/DSC_4467.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="800" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFJtLCEWsfwrX4dr6MhoLPAZsfIzAehB1AQDNZ1OCdSXFi55rOjci-eJLeytrRGPpAK0QVwxd0DjFNiWPWv7GgK8ktd6VNeOn8H6f-f2XAGzoD2x90kKzWlawgysmaXAMtv1MWp8aQhoM/w266-h400/DSC_4467.jpg" width="266" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Terri whipping up lunch beside the track</td></tr></tbody></table><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">The next morning we got
up early again, breakfasted and packed up, ready to move onwards after our two
days of delightful desert isolation. We drove onwards to the junction with the
Brandberg West Mine, then along lovely plains towards the tiny town of Uis,
There was lots more golden grass and plenty of welwitschia, the
prehistoric-looking plant that had entranced us the year before. As we proceeded,
we gained altitude and started to see some wildlife: kori bustards, a couple of
ostriches cantering across the plain, a lone springbok and a herd of Hartmann’s
mountain zebras silhouetted against the skyline. As we approached Uis, the
landscape became a bit drier and drabber, rather like the town itself. We
stocked up on fuel, wine, beer, phone credit and water, then continued towards
the <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_White_Lady_(Namibia)" target="_blank">White Lady, a San rock-art site</a>. After days of complete isolation, it was
jarring to see so many Damara villages, and we wondered how they scratched a
living from such unpromising terrain. The scenery at the site was striking,
with giant boulders and steep cliffs that had fractured off over the centuries.
Our guide, a young Damara woman, showed us a series of galleries daubed with
ochre (for the oldest paintings, dated to 3000 BC) and a mix of ochre and white
pigment (for the more recent paintings from around AD 1). I would have loved to
have stopped and sketched the art as we had done in 2016 in Zimbabwe and in
2017 in Botswana, but our guide was on a strict schedule and wouldn’t let us linger.
It was hotter than Hades in the canyon, with the rock faces re-radiating the
sun’s heat at us, and we were parched by the time we made it back to the
parking lot. Terri and I were impressed by the paintings, but both of us wished
we had been able to take our time to drink in the details. Instead we drove off
to a commercial campground at White Lady Lodge, where we luxuriated in hot
showers and electricity for a night.<o:p></o:p></span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXJSjVIEZLqlaA7lgGO3YCDw18rUEcBE1EzTEFfHw_OCZ2z1qp-xgbMUcZ0mGGE5jWY3mPG3NXY-0YjONpzMu0nsN-AFK6Nv0fC3WlNmk8fiUuhdtSDq951VvmZcA7GXod7X8DiLekT6I/s1200/DSC_4415.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="800" data-original-width="1200" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXJSjVIEZLqlaA7lgGO3YCDw18rUEcBE1EzTEFfHw_OCZ2z1qp-xgbMUcZ0mGGE5jWY3mPG3NXY-0YjONpzMu0nsN-AFK6Nv0fC3WlNmk8fiUuhdtSDq951VvmZcA7GXod7X8DiLekT6I/w400-h266/DSC_4415.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">San rock painting at The White Lady <br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">It was mild when we went
to sleep that night, but at 5 am a searching cold wind was blowing through our
open tent flaps, chilling our feet, so I had to wake up to close the side
flaps. We awoke to a chatter of birdsong and found spurfowl and speckled
pigeons (a new species for us) hopping around the campground. By 9:30 we had
breakfasted, packed up and started driving. The track, at first excellent
graded gravel, slowly deteriorated and then completely disintegrated as we
entered the Twyfelfontein Conservancy with a steep climb in 4WD low range
around the Organ Pipes. The previous year we had taken an interior track from
our previous campsite to Twyfelfontein and it had been rough, right at the edge
of Terri’s abilities, featuring a shredded tire, hair-raising hills and an
uncomfortable river crossing. This year we had avoided most of that track, but
even the “easy” option made for some grim concentrated driving. For some reason
a swarm of bees started following the car, making it impossible to get out when
we stopped. Finally the bees left us and we had a delightful roadside picnic. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXkfVVCMJDd6z9MrsmEBivSWESAYK9Gzsu6kUhRHPmtt53V2CEGjZF_VZfB6saQPXEeOwUqMqKi8svkWFRMGRSgKnUda9m3K_l_dibEu7VZEE1H8v-JmxmIYwMpadlYgauV9nKWOcVSZc/s1200/DSC_4484.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="800" data-original-width="1200" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXkfVVCMJDd6z9MrsmEBivSWESAYK9Gzsu6kUhRHPmtt53V2CEGjZF_VZfB6saQPXEeOwUqMqKi8svkWFRMGRSgKnUda9m3K_l_dibEu7VZEE1H8v-JmxmIYwMpadlYgauV9nKWOcVSZc/w400-h266/DSC_4484.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Another perfect Damaraland campsite</td></tr></tbody></table><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">We followed our GPS to a
waypoint from the previous year close to a waterhole where black rhinos are
known to come to drink. We thought that we had read that we had to keep more
than 300 metres from the waterhole, and set up camp accordingly. At 5 pm an
anti-poaching patrol from the <a href="http://www.savetherhinotrust.org/" target="_blank">Save The Rhino Trust</a> showed up and told us that
we actually had to keep at least 1 km from the waterhole. Since we had already
set up camp and were cooking, they let us stay that evening, but we had to
promise to move in the morning, rather than staying three days as we had
intended. According to the rangers, they had already seen 5 black rhinos that
day, a promising statistic for such a highly endangered, highly poached
species.<o:p></o:p></span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihGvgteog0kBTly1TMOmByz8tU1NTDsMKGq1xarYnXvMLAAATaxE9ZXtikbJ3dwxKzDf17x7_gRFShrt3LC7yV9A_dXnd2_JFkrqmZUhYljG2ljw7xTCYBYIpfN8qp77II-aKokKJorLU/s1200/DSC_4510.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="800" data-original-width="1200" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihGvgteog0kBTly1TMOmByz8tU1NTDsMKGq1xarYnXvMLAAATaxE9ZXtikbJ3dwxKzDf17x7_gRFShrt3LC7yV9A_dXnd2_JFkrqmZUhYljG2ljw7xTCYBYIpfN8qp77II-aKokKJorLU/w400-h266/DSC_4510.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Save The Rhino anti-poaching patrol in Twyfelfontein Conservancy<br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-3FT_3AtTjBIZ0XUv3vgxx4rfxBvBA1YJpSRSRlQiVr6mSBPJXPBrLx66AuGEbKwZZQLSTbRl7JmwR1R_zLMJvChTT6LXBmEPPWMBdLTOdUrzyP_YLmp3lgQiZnMOnDIFQJHIRKf_A30/s1200/DSC_4505.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="800" data-original-width="1200" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-3FT_3AtTjBIZ0XUv3vgxx4rfxBvBA1YJpSRSRlQiVr6mSBPJXPBrLx66AuGEbKwZZQLSTbRl7JmwR1R_zLMJvChTT6LXBmEPPWMBdLTOdUrzyP_YLmp3lgQiZnMOnDIFQJHIRKf_A30/w400-h266/DSC_4505.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Gibbous moon<br /><br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbOGb-NRQpz6KIn4ITPz8xDkt1SvdmMcBDizulpWHupAzl8HlWmKySvR1mteSIucXk1r47Hzx9054NimzCPG8vdFn9cit-scMNT3otWkGPDd0DZZGHnvPUnFZHqIHdkfGPH8LgxdCrc50/s1200/DSC_4563.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="800" data-original-width="1200" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbOGb-NRQpz6KIn4ITPz8xDkt1SvdmMcBDizulpWHupAzl8HlWmKySvR1mteSIucXk1r47Hzx9054NimzCPG8vdFn9cit-scMNT3otWkGPDd0DZZGHnvPUnFZHqIHdkfGPH8LgxdCrc50/w400-h266/DSC_4563.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The golden afternoon light</td></tr></tbody></table><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">We made the most of our
single night near the waterhole, dining on sosaties (skewers of meat and
vegetables) and sweet potatoes cooked over a raging fire, washed down with a
good South African red wine. Giraffes came to drink at the waterhole, while we
could hear zebras somewhere nearby in the darkness. No rhinos showed up (they
probably smelled us and stayed away), but the night sky was beautiful, with the
moon having filled out into a gibbous shape, and we were alone under the stars
on the African veldt, as contented as it was possible to be. This, we thought,
was exactly what we had been missing for the past fifteen months.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjp3Kqwo-kNzrtZReff57utiGSmFhyphenhyphenPeroTMPBg4C8Gqqa_AvFxcDx1Ezzc-PRLPYOhV1KjMTNde5BXVCBbc3al_M7i8VItvnPhyphenhyphenxy3OLXsWANgYJyjzHu3xUOtiLPVSjjrU4kMRmZGRE/s1200/DSC_4630.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="800" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjp3Kqwo-kNzrtZReff57utiGSmFhyphenhyphenPeroTMPBg4C8Gqqa_AvFxcDx1Ezzc-PRLPYOhV1KjMTNde5BXVCBbc3al_M7i8VItvnPhyphenhyphenxy3OLXsWANgYJyjzHu3xUOtiLPVSjjrU4kMRmZGRE/w266-h400/DSC_4630.jpg" width="266" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Terri out for a careful walk in Damaraland</td></tr></tbody></table><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">The following morning we
awoke, had tea and coffee and rusks and moved camp, ending up on a small knoll
surrounded by grassy prairies with red bulk of the Doros Crater rising on one
side and the distant peak of the Brandberg filling the horizon on the other. En
route we stopped in at the camp of the anti-poaching patrol and chatted with
them, giving them some meat and potatoes for their pot in gratitude at not
having rousted us out of our campsite the night before. Once we were
established at our new homestead, we had a more substantial brunch of boiled
eggs on toast and then settled in for some walking, birdwatching and reading
under the awning. By 3 pm the thermometer read 38 degrees and we were content
to read in our camp chairs in the shade.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></p>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDanj_VncGO1DrZ-45AVocW75nUf-M3kQZDwHzldtJKC8hz_aqA15cmH088FljBVp3xJyfKk0yeR1TbPrN3szKETtLClTpggjy9KZ21mQNMsbYjFm13Z9_yPHGJQv45-B3laazZ2SkfTE/s1200/DSC_4631.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="800" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDanj_VncGO1DrZ-45AVocW75nUf-M3kQZDwHzldtJKC8hz_aqA15cmH088FljBVp3xJyfKk0yeR1TbPrN3szKETtLClTpggjy9KZ21mQNMsbYjFm13Z9_yPHGJQv45-B3laazZ2SkfTE/w266-h400/DSC_4631.jpg" width="266" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Breakfast anyone?<br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">The next day saw more
unplugged relaxation, with a morning walk along the jagged ridge extending from
our campsite, then lots of reading (a hilarious novel entitled Creative Truths
in Provincial Policing, and my copious notes for my Silk Road book), some yoga
and pushups, lots of juggling, a giant lunch of leftover pea soup, a nap to
beat the heat, and then another star-filled evening beside the campfire, with
me playing around with trying to capture the Milky Way on the camera.<o:p></o:p></span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPGXVqcj08MEFiILDel20uomZwdRHRB__BjrrljJZvLqzQMDUbneICZKVsqMVK8l99bZkyGm5kJgep0fumutdw5hhvaWeh5b-WQQV7Lo3vc9aAVp1fnvNkVKQZcnjKCpOsNbkMruDWl44/s1200/DSC_4642.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="800" data-original-width="1200" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPGXVqcj08MEFiILDel20uomZwdRHRB__BjrrljJZvLqzQMDUbneICZKVsqMVK8l99bZkyGm5kJgep0fumutdw5hhvaWeh5b-WQQV7Lo3vc9aAVp1fnvNkVKQZcnjKCpOsNbkMruDWl44/w400-h266/DSC_4642.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Another perfect night camped in the desert beside the fire<br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZeTneklEi6JGhETXFZNmbzukg1fuB_c6EFvMFBHcHLdXBg-OnVlBSOf5HIk8kpERZfjxIQXaz_JsUlBgL3zNYSvn1L3hFdRZ1h0PlG_kelHr41K2_sie_ZrZvV-6WC80NkgPLpXq_ZbI/s1200/DSC_4664.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="800" data-original-width="1200" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZeTneklEi6JGhETXFZNmbzukg1fuB_c6EFvMFBHcHLdXBg-OnVlBSOf5HIk8kpERZfjxIQXaz_JsUlBgL3zNYSvn1L3hFdRZ1h0PlG_kelHr41K2_sie_ZrZvV-6WC80NkgPLpXq_ZbI/w400-h266/DSC_4664.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The road out of the Twyfelfontein Conservancy</td></tr></tbody></table><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">On Saturday, May 26<sup>th</sup>
we were up early, heading back along the track we had entered on, passing 3
herds of mountain zebra, several springboks and a pair of ostriches as we
headed back to Aba Huab. Terri found the driving much easier than on the way in
(familiarity breeds contentment?) and by 11:00 we were stopping in at a
commercial campground where we paid for showers, water for laundry and drinking
water for our tank. It was hot and dusty and we struggled with internet connectivity
until we gave up and drove off. We were headed into the unknown, towards the
Skeleton Coast (here closed to casual visitors) in search of another spot to
wild camp. The scenery was dramatic, with lots of mesas, but also scattered
sparse settlements. As we dropped towards the coast, the scenery was rocky
(making off-road driving tricky) and still had scattered settlements. To our
right (the north) we could see the line of the veterinary fence that divides
Namibia into zones of commercial farming and ranching (to the south) and more
densely settled subsistence farming (to the north). We kept looking for
promising spots and striking out, but eventually we found a small fishing hole
at the end of a long dusty track. It was obviously used as a campsite by local
fishermen, but there was nobody around, and we had a delightful evening
surrounded by chestnut-backed sparrowlarks who were coming in to drink at the
waterhole. It was an unbeatable location for our last night at large in Damaraland,
under an almost-full moon.<o:p></o:p></span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDxcaHGp4BENtl5BFnsOVUAcEumLTL5RuucC30yv3IuTdxrDkhbWgws0A0XIpcPzkkGc2yJIlOQ1-8mXMvsN54zkACa-FPhwUKOD1irvROVTsHfyKVtiPL2IX4w_sMr1paaTMqwppGA58/s1200/DSC_4681.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="800" data-original-width="1200" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDxcaHGp4BENtl5BFnsOVUAcEumLTL5RuucC30yv3IuTdxrDkhbWgws0A0XIpcPzkkGc2yJIlOQ1-8mXMvsN54zkACa-FPhwUKOD1irvROVTsHfyKVtiPL2IX4w_sMr1paaTMqwppGA58/w400-h266/DSC_4681.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A gibbous, nearly-full moon<br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6UxJLSgOuTzsjujNpGaC8yBX2mxSps5C0KE6tArYcmTNm9iPCX9xvtzKmKSxd0zOVdG95zjztlKOnu5oPY997pzWdZzVEQo7OUVxl8A5ZnNAkxEnQ41tvskP9HmV5WikB1-cETj8BNm0/s1200/DSC_4511.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="800" data-original-width="1200" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6UxJLSgOuTzsjujNpGaC8yBX2mxSps5C0KE6tArYcmTNm9iPCX9xvtzKmKSxd0zOVdG95zjztlKOnu5oPY997pzWdZzVEQo7OUVxl8A5ZnNAkxEnQ41tvskP9HmV5WikB1-cETj8BNm0/w640-h426/DSC_4511.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">If this is what the roads look like, you're driving in the right place!</td></tr></tbody></table><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 107%;">Into
Kaokoland<o:p></o:p></span></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"> </span></p>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwcn9btKkW7clcQTZpisz62rjW8AfcVGfKbmPv0O0uR3dz4AZ_SdHtIxkFpdalznBBGXv0tPBJTSxomhJYtEF7d3pPUK-yWHBCXOu_yMl-cZd33PrB-D16OnjhWxELba5Aw7rS7wtdnoE/s1200/DSC_4443.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="800" data-original-width="1200" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwcn9btKkW7clcQTZpisz62rjW8AfcVGfKbmPv0O0uR3dz4AZ_SdHtIxkFpdalznBBGXv0tPBJTSxomhJYtEF7d3pPUK-yWHBCXOu_yMl-cZd33PrB-D16OnjhWxELba5Aw7rS7wtdnoE/w400-h266/DSC_4443.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Yellow-billed hornbill</td></tr></tbody></table><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">We awoke a bit chilled
from the night air (we were sleeping under a sheet and blanket, rather than
under our down sleeping bags, and they weren’t quite up to the task) and found
a riot of birds outside. There were dozens of Namaqua sandgrouse, about to fill
the spaces between their feathers with water before flying up to fifty
kilometres off into the desert to give water to their chicks. There were also
the chestnut-backed sparrowlarks we had seen the night before, a couple of
feisty blacksmith plovers, white-breasted
crows and some mousebirds with their long tails. We breakfasted, packed
up our possessions into Stanley and started driving east.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"></span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWzyp3Ri3cyAr8s_gMcR1Og3XoIwv0-dWAWCTqZFn4eSWMOi3LQ9fF50nyyM-UtzL4VoJRF0VXm3zQ_n_NWjZeJKD-Ajzb_QTk7Kv4b91FSikvfagaSym3N3PWbCkq9nTvnbu1HuosOHE/s1200/DSC_5637.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="800" data-original-width="1200" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWzyp3Ri3cyAr8s_gMcR1Og3XoIwv0-dWAWCTqZFn4eSWMOi3LQ9fF50nyyM-UtzL4VoJRF0VXm3zQ_n_NWjZeJKD-Ajzb_QTk7Kv4b91FSikvfagaSym3N3PWbCkq9nTvnbu1HuosOHE/w400-h266/DSC_5637.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Milky Way<br /><br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAKYB7R9oTGfy7ye8w8yuKlNmqp_PCjKUKxGAQTl-hFHKaVWxqTPCUpDmJJw5h8MH7hqemev1VfMss4xsSz9DHWgX1ajxxPL9fSe08MQrrnZvs3XJMPqVHqSt1pF0WYpRJmJyxjDX7f6k/s1200/DSC_4436.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="800" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAKYB7R9oTGfy7ye8w8yuKlNmqp_PCjKUKxGAQTl-hFHKaVWxqTPCUpDmJJw5h8MH7hqemev1VfMss4xsSz9DHWgX1ajxxPL9fSe08MQrrnZvs3XJMPqVHqSt1pF0WYpRJmJyxjDX7f6k/w266-h400/DSC_4436.jpg" width="266" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Double-banded sandgrouse<br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">The names Damaraland and
Kaokoland are both a bit out-of-date in modern Namibia, as they refer to administrative
districts in the days of South African control of the country, but they’re
still used extensively, especially by tourists. The border between the two
regions is the Hoanib River, one of the biggest rivers in the north of Namibia,
and we were about to head north of that river into Kaokoland. We backtracked as
far as the main Palmwag road, and then along through dramatic mesas to the
checkpoint where the road crossed the vet fence. At Palmwag Lodge we got out to
stretch our legs and walked around the beautiful grounds (we had camped in
their campground the year before). We continued north along the main gravel
road, past more mountain zebras and some fresh elephant dung. The Hoanib River
is well-known for its resident groups of nomadic desert elephants, and a group
had evidently just crossed the road. On a half-remembered recommendation, we
stopped in at the Khowarib Lodge campground and loved it, so we checked in and
ended up staying for two nights.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfICNMgOaHL354C_g5T1lME-w5Mw1-GocJ4Ga_BZy4NNoM0JcRJKLCxrtffeI_F4Ba_TW3w3w_4ctLnX9Xo2UD9a64MlDilB6XTWLm-4P-a7JTEsAbXZQZGy_8RH04zOJMwY5MSiJP2fc/s1200/DSC_4403.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="800" data-original-width="1200" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfICNMgOaHL354C_g5T1lME-w5Mw1-GocJ4Ga_BZy4NNoM0JcRJKLCxrtffeI_F4Ba_TW3w3w_4ctLnX9Xo2UD9a64MlDilB6XTWLm-4P-a7JTEsAbXZQZGy_8RH04zOJMwY5MSiJP2fc/w400-h266/DSC_4403.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Blue agama lizard</td></tr></tbody></table><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">The scenery in this area
is striking, with steep-sided canyon walls above the waters of the Hoanib
River, an unexpected and welcome sight after so long without flowing water.
That afternoon I went out for a long run along the jeep track leading up the
canyon, then returned to camp to read the end of Creative Truths and the
beginning of Cutting For Stone, a beautiful novel set in Addis Ababa. Dinner
that evening was particularly splendid, with two thick sirloin steaks seared
over a raging fire complemented by potato wedges, corn and peas and a glass or
three of our boxed Overmeer wine. It was an idyllic evening.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">We had a quiet day the
next day, reading, running, juggling (I was finally making substantive progress
towards juggling 5 balls, after months of struggle), doing yoga and rewriting
two chapters of my Silk Road manuscript. Across the river pale-winged starlings
and louries squawked at us from the cliffs, while the moon, only a day from
being full, bathed the campsite in soft silvery light.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeY2g4jwfHjxJIv3Y5lNLwjiF-McdrtHCyZsN9lwAwzwm3-V-EtamZdjsvJkIJtoweaFzNaMgp6J3yjn012gwg4_esMvCNa-Ozu-pauLX4c5XKpiGv40g5N9AXdvIhk7dUTcZwh6CnNO8/s1200/DSC_4744.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="800" data-original-width="1200" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeY2g4jwfHjxJIv3Y5lNLwjiF-McdrtHCyZsN9lwAwzwm3-V-EtamZdjsvJkIJtoweaFzNaMgp6J3yjn012gwg4_esMvCNa-Ozu-pauLX4c5XKpiGv40g5N9AXdvIhk7dUTcZwh6CnNO8/w400-h266/DSC_4744.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Giraffes wandering past our canyon campsite, Kaokoland<br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">Our plan was to make our
way north through Kaokoland towards the Cunene River and the Angolan border. We
made a great start that day by driving north to Warmquelle, a tiny settlement,
for more phone credit and some basic groceries. From there we continued to
Sesfontein which was much smaller and more desolate a place than we had thought,
aside from a picturesque German fort. The road out of town was in terrible
condition as it climbed over a low pass, but it improved as it dropped onto a
broad blond-grass valley. As we drove along, we saw a group of ostriches
trotting along, making faster progress than we were. Once we were 15 km past
the last settlement, we started looking for a place to camp, and found a
perfect spot down in a small canyon, completely hidden from the main road. We
set up a roaring campfire with the top-quality mopane firewood lying around and
first of all cooked up grilled-cheese sandwiches in the potjie before settling
down to enjoy the views. An hour before dusk a group of five giraffes showed up
across the river, giving us great views as they browsed their way methodically
through the thorn trees along the river. We banked up the fire and grilled a
mixed braai pack we had picked up in Warmquelle; it was somewhat indifferent,
but the potatoes and beets that we cooked in the potjie made up for it, as did
the cheap but tasty Tassenberg wine we had also found in Warmquelle. It might
well have been the single best campsite of the trip, and we went to bed happy
and full.<o:p></o:p></span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhx6ewAiAnr28YxKkfkSjVAUZtZZVjPvNP4i6NIYF7GeSe1F0d10WZB_dgRcXlirBRDKgmvhB6ha4Z2SjUPAN6OetS-_nZ5mjor2eXYYwuNPRpNgZF2hhXI9UFNCdWr9GGrIIEV-33fdz0/s1200/DSC_4731.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="800" data-original-width="1200" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhx6ewAiAnr28YxKkfkSjVAUZtZZVjPvNP4i6NIYF7GeSe1F0d10WZB_dgRcXlirBRDKgmvhB6ha4Z2SjUPAN6OetS-_nZ5mjor2eXYYwuNPRpNgZF2hhXI9UFNCdWr9GGrIIEV-33fdz0/w400-h266/DSC_4731.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Our homestead on wheels, down in the Kaokoland canyon.<br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">The next day we had
anticipated continuing north to Purros, but fate had different ideas. We
breakfasted on maize porridge (mealie pap to South Africans; I liked it but
Terri was not a fan), packed up Stanley and got ready to depart. We climbed in,
turned the key and…..nothing. Stanley’s engine gave no indication of life, and
after opening the hood and peering around cluelessly, we decided that we would
have to get some help, not an easy prospect where we were. We tried
jumpstarting the car from our storage batteries, something we had heard about
but never tried. We got electric power from the process, but the engine still
refused to turn over. Suddenly we heard the sound of engines, and I sprinted up
out of the canyon and across the grasslands towards a convoy of 4x4 vehicles
that was zipping along the main track. I ran as fast as I could, shouting and
waving my hands. Eventually the lead vehicle stopped and I ran up to them to
ask for help. I heard later that they had been talking amongst themselves on CB
radios, saying “There’s a white guy running across the veldt! What the hell is
he doing? Should we stop? Or is he a crazy man?” </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"></span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAgIkn9vcm672jFFGXZST7mzipRdwSjuzmKyUztO1oT80fNLzzQ0rR3YUOUAhdToJN8k9R4Ce4ywhm7ugsnzFnTXP3d2VoFzvevS_xHhYGESUfi6W3cMUArQlhQoMo8wRrcBjgWdsUWKI/s1200/DSC_5234.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="802" data-original-width="1200" height="268" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAgIkn9vcm672jFFGXZST7mzipRdwSjuzmKyUztO1oT80fNLzzQ0rR3YUOUAhdToJN8k9R4Ce4ywhm7ugsnzFnTXP3d2VoFzvevS_xHhYGESUfi6W3cMUArQlhQoMo8wRrcBjgWdsUWKI/w400-h268/DSC_5234.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Desert flower<br /><br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgM8656LpnzV177bZouq6ZuhLWL5KLn7tR7P8rHw97rVZdEBYt88EK_8tuSwWAqdnvmQV8qLm9A-3YSJRKRkJ8MOK7bt5LcWaUQ_Jb1tmQe4ASw2mHJQys3v5-GvL0DBtl1WPCvnilDWSE/s1200/DSC_4780.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="800" data-original-width="1200" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgM8656LpnzV177bZouq6ZuhLWL5KLn7tR7P8rHw97rVZdEBYt88EK_8tuSwWAqdnvmQV8qLm9A-3YSJRKRkJ8MOK7bt5LcWaUQ_Jb1tmQe4ASw2mHJQys3v5-GvL0DBtl1WPCvnilDWSE/w400-h266/DSC_4780.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">South African tourists trying to get Stanley started<br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">I explained our predicament to
the convoy of South African offroad enthusiasts who were coming back from the
Skeleton Coast, and they agreed to come have a look. I arrived back in camp and
several of the drivers repeated my routine of staring knowledgeably into the
engine, although they did know a lot more about mechanics than either Terri or
I. They were able to diagnose the problem (no diesel reaching the cylinders),
but weren’t able to fix it. They agreed to give us a lift back to Sesfontein
(they had a schedule to follow), so we locked up Stanley, took our money and
valuables and rode back in search of a mechanic. Terri and I rode in separate
vehicles; I had a long and illuminating conversation with a father and son team
who ran a school teaching commercial technical divers in Hermanus, outside Cape
Town. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjo9UHIDEl-ci83UbZQjHkMmdPk9P8Bgfduhm7h2FGKRe8-eIZt-D0XtcG52IpQFDSALAXT4V0yNQg24EGcmT6sFlVZehflFOGzRIR0HsNK0t1XP3vc0i39iiw5FYTADOt5jx36GZ2aYLY/s1200/DSC_4784.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="800" data-original-width="1200" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjo9UHIDEl-ci83UbZQjHkMmdPk9P8Bgfduhm7h2FGKRe8-eIZt-D0XtcG52IpQFDSALAXT4V0yNQg24EGcmT6sFlVZehflFOGzRIR0HsNK0t1XP3vc0i39iiw5FYTADOt5jx36GZ2aYLY/w400-h266/DSC_4784.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Magnificent giraffes<br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">In Sesfontein, after some
waiting around, we managed to find a mechanic named Petrus and a driver named
John to take us back out to Stanley and (we hoped) fix the problem. It took
forever to get going; there appeared to be no diesel for sale at the pump in
Sesfontein, so we had to drive around in vain in search of someone with diesel
to sell. We started driving at last around 3:15 and by 4:50 we were back at
Stanley, having passed a group of 7 giraffe cantering across the grasslands.
John, who had worked as a driver for years both for tourist operators and for
NGOs in the area, had never been down into the canyon where we had parked, and
in fact didn’t even know that it existed; he was surprised at how idyllic it
was down there and how easy the access was. The fix was relatively easy, a
loose wire leading to the diesel pump. Terri cooked up dinner while I watched
Petrus, trying in vain to absorb some knowledge of engine repair. John,
meanwhile, was agog at the amount of top-quality mopane wood lying around on
the ground, and spent his time collecting firewood and piling into the back of
his Landrover. We siphoned ten litres of fuel from our tank to get John and
Petrus back to Sesfontein, then waved them a grateful goodbye. Terri and I
wolfed down some boerewors, potatoes and peas, then carried our camp chairs up
out of the canyon onto the plateau to watch the full moon rise, keeping a wary
eye and ear cocked in case a lion or elephant happened by. There were no big
predators, but a couple of nightjars swooped by low in the dark, startling us. We
couldn’t have picked a better place to be stranded for one extra night!</span></p>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwdJ7a1zV4zdCYYg9Gn-mC5NwmveJO2AcCxG3ilZq8Xc00rPQpmqwr5fqQY139RLhdRMVrztLJK9kvjMY8v4s0BvuV528jQwbJBqLm1QY0ONyh4hVWfbMXELbICJNI64rl8WiOiYetRV8/s1200/DSC_4761.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="800" data-original-width="1200" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwdJ7a1zV4zdCYYg9Gn-mC5NwmveJO2AcCxG3ilZq8Xc00rPQpmqwr5fqQY139RLhdRMVrztLJK9kvjMY8v4s0BvuV528jQwbJBqLm1QY0ONyh4hVWfbMXELbICJNI64rl8WiOiYetRV8/w400-h266/DSC_4761.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Full moon rising over Kaokoland<br /><br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbQCQn31CpJBuXOFIBRFJntPnXgv8IZreL7H4tD3B_WV8oFmLOgS6n6ULqRZmxbRBeLQOQ6Xy-bDeiGR17aQtAlIsGIU8I08hSDslgcmPXYPmbHVZCRPrV984Tf0lf59_wuKOdLYDlbgc/s1200/DSC_4722.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="798" data-original-width="1200" height="265" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbQCQn31CpJBuXOFIBRFJntPnXgv8IZreL7H4tD3B_WV8oFmLOgS6n6ULqRZmxbRBeLQOQ6Xy-bDeiGR17aQtAlIsGIU8I08hSDslgcmPXYPmbHVZCRPrV984Tf0lf59_wuKOdLYDlbgc/w400-h265/DSC_4722.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">An ostrich striding past us in Kaokoland<br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">The next morning the
engine started effortlessly, to our great relief. We were up early and saw a
plethora of birds flitting around the canyon: larks, pipits, sparrows and
red-eyed bulbuls. By 9:30 we were on our way, driving along an improved track
into Purros, a surprisingly large settlement. We looked in at Canyon Campsites
(a nice location, looking out towards some coastal mountains, but we were in
the mood for more wild camping), bought wine and peanut butter in a tiny shop,
and followed directions to the shack where Colin the Diesel Man sold fuel out
of a clutter of diesel drums. We filled up our tank to the brim, winced a bit
at the price, then drove out of time to the posh Oshikongo Elephant Lodge to
top up on our water supply.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEmyLLMkWaOs_pFzvdjZoiRsS2DY22JEOv2KnEv4quLKFcd2S4TLR6qXd7D6yVnKLpxPjrzaJ1S-Am7yHU8Q-y7lTG0ZNhXRdH3v35Qyd0A2UipaeWX5-U40AZoP7IGEkdLyB4BMZ-Rvc/s1200/DSC_4805.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="800" data-original-width="1200" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEmyLLMkWaOs_pFzvdjZoiRsS2DY22JEOv2KnEv4quLKFcd2S4TLR6qXd7D6yVnKLpxPjrzaJ1S-Am7yHU8Q-y7lTG0ZNhXRdH3v35Qyd0A2UipaeWX5-U40AZoP7IGEkdLyB4BMZ-Rvc/w400-h266/DSC_4805.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Lovely desert flowers<br /><br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvGMfI4dzTkl8NpFdlPzybwmQ-dRYqC0hpiTqV7PyVdhwuTMbtymF7K5LwxJNKdL0Qn0MRvJE7PCYDbuZBzAJfO7uQvbZH6iuSDchDJmjN-Lhpk1sSKUnu3aOjPbkvJC-H9HlNR60af6k/s1200/DSC_4847.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="800" data-original-width="1200" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvGMfI4dzTkl8NpFdlPzybwmQ-dRYqC0hpiTqV7PyVdhwuTMbtymF7K5LwxJNKdL0Qn0MRvJE7PCYDbuZBzAJfO7uQvbZH6iuSDchDJmjN-Lhpk1sSKUnu3aOjPbkvJC-H9HlNR60af6k/w400-h266/DSC_4847.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The washboarding that made part of the Kaokoland drive painful<br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">The road out of Purros
was very scenic, along a broad, gently sloping ramp that kept climbing for many
kilometres. The scenery around us was dramatic: at first relatively lush
grassland grazed by springbok, then slowly dessicating and becoming much
rockier. We stopped beside the road for a peanut-butter sandwich break, gazing
out over the gentle golden wash of the dry grass punctuated by the heads of
distant springbok. The road sloped gently down to a river crossing where we
camped amidst the sparse trees, trying to shelter from the scouring wind. The
wind, the gravelly grassland and the rocky mountains in the distance all
transported me back to the Aksai Chin Plateau between Xinjiang and Tibet which
I cycled across back in 1998. The road surface was just as corrugated, but at
least now we had enough water, wonderful food, red wine and a tent that
wouldn’t blow away if you let go of it. More pea soup from our potjie and a
white “perle” wine bought in Purros warded off hunger, while our fire burned
quickly in the gale-force winds. The stars were out, but it was actually
unpleasantly cold sitting outside, and we were tucked into bed much earlier
than usual, where I read through many pages of research notes for my Silk Road
book; I had taken the notes a decade before, and had forgotten many of the
historical details that I had noted down then.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8ZrbLFxhoGsnGCY47iH4JWAWz3dK2CCzwhEAtCfrbpa_k0cVGna1X69eG_pKDPMriM0g4l-EtKwwUhmuzA9s-jj5K5OVQssd-lB0MAF2S0ta8yXlqEJ-wbzd0pXSv8oYXf7FJzyMmarI/s1200/DSC_4826.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="800" data-original-width="1200" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8ZrbLFxhoGsnGCY47iH4JWAWz3dK2CCzwhEAtCfrbpa_k0cVGna1X69eG_pKDPMriM0g4l-EtKwwUhmuzA9s-jj5K5OVQssd-lB0MAF2S0ta8yXlqEJ-wbzd0pXSv8oYXf7FJzyMmarI/w400-h266/DSC_4826.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Cooking in our potjie over an open fire<br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">We had taken the
precaution of breaking out the heavy down sleeping bags that night, and as a
result we slept uncommonly well, not waking up chilled at 5 am. It was only 11
degrees when we awoke, and a thin dew covered all outdoor surfaces. We
breakfasted on cornmeal porridge (to Terri’s distaste), rusks, cocoa and tea,
watching lots of larks and Cape sparrows flit about the vegetation. The drive
started out over desolate gravel plains that offered sweeping views that seemed
to reach to the ends of the earth. As we climbed gently and tortuously along a
deeply corrugated gravel track towards Orupembe, we entered into ethereal white
grasslands. Large herds of springbok grazed on the plateau, with a surprising
number of ostriches and a few gemsboks thrown in for variety. We bypassed the turnoff
towards Orupembe and from here the road conditions became really dire, slowing
us to a crawl. We climbed again across a broad grassy valley and slowly gained
speed as the washboarding became a bit less pronounced.<o:p></o:p></span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlwgJKMGFuOVSuO_nOSavnnko-AgVHUZy8h8pXL6aBs0jTYf03ldNu_gTStd6d0ez3N_1tEEYbmj3hWxuMqWHdItO45oUWUJ_TSI_qbFsfXEXy7m2hwsBf6gS_VmAXzTc56tqPYNmDNi8/s1200/DSC_4881.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="800" data-original-width="1200" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlwgJKMGFuOVSuO_nOSavnnko-AgVHUZy8h8pXL6aBs0jTYf03ldNu_gTStd6d0ez3N_1tEEYbmj3hWxuMqWHdItO45oUWUJ_TSI_qbFsfXEXy7m2hwsBf6gS_VmAXzTc56tqPYNmDNi8/w400-h266/DSC_4881.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption">Wonderful patina of vegetation on the desert <br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOvCbPyDtgw-5YLXWvfpBJvB867qli5XpB-ce9abRSd18Iej5VKA_SQdVharSpcP5irvO7vDWAcU-Hs7Fql1cYsj2YSejWZGQbKzhk4SDZVRuTE_HN0AQk-gA8TYI72wCxlE63ZgOBtjM/s1200/DSC_4618.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="800" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOvCbPyDtgw-5YLXWvfpBJvB867qli5XpB-ce9abRSd18Iej5VKA_SQdVharSpcP5irvO7vDWAcU-Hs7Fql1cYsj2YSejWZGQbKzhk4SDZVRuTE_HN0AQk-gA8TYI72wCxlE63ZgOBtjM/w266-h400/DSC_4618.jpg" width="266" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A slightly hideous cricket</td></tr></tbody></table><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">The scenery was dramatic,
with more bleached-blond grass and many more gemsbok, lines of trees marking
ephemeral watercourses, thousands of larks, pipits, chats and sparrows
fluttering around the vegetation and dozens of new wildflower species speckling
the ground with pinpricks of brilliance. It was one of the most beautiful days
of the entire trip, and we were constantly stopping to take photos or stare
through binoculars at distant birds. We spotted an unfamiliar species of
chameleon basking on a quartz boulder beside the track in the afternoon and
watched fascinated as he crossed the ground with infinite slowness, swaying
backwards with each step before extending his Muppet-like hand in front of him,
his exquisite eyes rotating in all directions as he watched us for signs of
danger. We also spotted a couple of new bird species: the double-banded courser
(a small ground bird) and a pririt batis (a small charcoal-and-white flycatcher
with tinges of amber). The dominant creature in the grasslands seemed to be a
somewhat hideous purple and white cricket that teemed in great profusion all
over the flowers and grasses. It was, in short, a perfect day.<o:p></o:p></span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgezNLe9Bz3SbBwmvAofvQlxSgQyUW7HxsRT8ckriHtCPD_OU31LGZBg-PAeZPWjrauNfYzXmTvQjHto_exDxJvYRHyAt9Cgd-nLtNHfvkU9I3j53lmk5iX4qK3hGVvvlaCBpBfNsdLOv4/s1200/DSC_4914.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="800" data-original-width="1200" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgezNLe9Bz3SbBwmvAofvQlxSgQyUW7HxsRT8ckriHtCPD_OU31LGZBg-PAeZPWjrauNfYzXmTvQjHto_exDxJvYRHyAt9Cgd-nLtNHfvkU9I3j53lmk5iX4qK3hGVvvlaCBpBfNsdLOv4/w400-h266/DSC_4914.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption">Desert chameleon beside the track<br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgce4iQqHj19GAJy27KhaVwKQVxDE77Sr44hvZH5WintPFff1koS6dkHyOY1obE8fxthaqGVIu1iDrSAsL_fLs-K9TiSJf2H5xWeIGRfxsG3yhaNA3PZtOq-1s28Z8pqmHdX-mP3IuDZdM/s1200/DSC_4921.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="800" data-original-width="1200" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgce4iQqHj19GAJy27KhaVwKQVxDE77Sr44hvZH5WintPFff1koS6dkHyOY1obE8fxthaqGVIu1iDrSAsL_fLs-K9TiSJf2H5xWeIGRfxsG3yhaNA3PZtOq-1s28Z8pqmHdX-mP3IuDZdM/w400-h266/DSC_4921.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Our campsite near Blue Drum<br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">The perfection was added
to when we stopped to camp close to Blue Drum, a waypoint (with a blue-painted
fuel drum) dating from the days of the South African military campaigns against
SWAPO in the 1970s and 1980s. (Red Drum and Orange Drum mark other trail
junctions nearby.) We had a perfect spot, shaded by trees beside a small dry
riverbed. Within moments of arriving Terri had kindled a fire and started
making scones, baked inside the potjie with a few charcoal briquettes on top of
the lid. They were absolutely delicious, and showed how much our back-of-beyond
cooking skills had advanced since we had first set off from Johannesburg two
years earlier. The moon was now rising much later, and until 9:30 the sky was
perfectly dark and clear, with the Milky Way flowing across the sky. As we sat
out under the stars we could hear voices in the distance and realized that we had
camped just short of a Himba village, just far enough away that we weren’t noticed by
passing herders.<o:p></o:p></span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjo_WcfKEDCA2JKCUJbOs_QZwIxhR7ErQt26D8FbR__4SN3RnRc4sA9awBctlouVam26D_rp5vUKrkVfeGy8ZpswCJnGis0AOyHfdQu7Ve4GAP4Hl6AwiD68iMCuR-KT6gNb7ZHZkAWuLg/s1200/DSC_4922.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="800" data-original-width="1200" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjo_WcfKEDCA2JKCUJbOs_QZwIxhR7ErQt26D8FbR__4SN3RnRc4sA9awBctlouVam26D_rp5vUKrkVfeGy8ZpswCJnGis0AOyHfdQu7Ve4GAP4Hl6AwiD68iMCuR-KT6gNb7ZHZkAWuLg/w400-h266/DSC_4922.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Terri's ingenious double oven for baking scones over the fire<br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9lslOVZZ_kg0GSWdq5FMB99IY9y3z_1wqi7FAIdCrQOXSdAUdA-jSdW0ssjE2gDKtKjsP9rRgNzMU3xIOp1lSCNIe53wcCqxUCqa9nfRSMUFz9PtxPQY-R0r4YNJWeFDmhwtDRi-eSD8/s1200/DSC_4924.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="800" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9lslOVZZ_kg0GSWdq5FMB99IY9y3z_1wqi7FAIdCrQOXSdAUdA-jSdW0ssjE2gDKtKjsP9rRgNzMU3xIOp1lSCNIe53wcCqxUCqa9nfRSMUFz9PtxPQY-R0r4YNJWeFDmhwtDRi-eSD8/w266-h400/DSC_4924.jpg" width="266" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The happy baker!<br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZWR-6Ul0hza16kGseOjLtZV3g7Cx9uhy28wbHv_iOk7STqJQJBI3_JelFHQhp6tBVjua3lGEGTrLE3iH0okBuGjh7DxVe85A2QL9fXWcpsbaUQGeQcroQMNMFQNdMCou4lLWiGxZrMQY/s1200/DSC_4899.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="800" data-original-width="1200" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZWR-6Ul0hza16kGseOjLtZV3g7Cx9uhy28wbHv_iOk7STqJQJBI3_JelFHQhp6tBVjua3lGEGTrLE3iH0okBuGjh7DxVe85A2QL9fXWcpsbaUQGeQcroQMNMFQNdMCou4lLWiGxZrMQY/w400-h266/DSC_4899.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Heading towards the Marienfluss</td></tr></tbody></table><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">June 2<sup>nd</sup> found
us off by 9:00 am, worried about how long it might take us to traverse the
tracks of the Marienfluss down to the Cunene River. As it turned out, the track
was rough and rocky as far as the Red Drum junction, but then it became
smoother, softer and sandier. The scenery was dramatic all day, although the
landscape was far more densely populated than I had thought, with small Himba
settlements all over the broad valley of the Marienfluss and small herds of
goats and cattle grazing everywhere, making for a noticeably less grassy
landscape than on previous days. It also made for very little wildlife, other than
a cluster of ostriches in the distance. The Himba were as striking in their
appearance as I had remembered, with many of the women barebreasted and with
ochre-tinged mud caking their hair in a striking hairdo.<o:p></o:p></span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyGRd5pkmw7pQGELOYAnYlTVOJz70EnL0rjmaPsSreLPaPM8esb8HI9KdzZMZJV-cqqUykoitge2va54Cb5t8MEc3_JSt02n2__zcxYK9stqimJhu59XrF8gBcj7x81uTc_Jfi6VAKZ6c/s1200/DSC_4953.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="800" data-original-width="1200" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyGRd5pkmw7pQGELOYAnYlTVOJz70EnL0rjmaPsSreLPaPM8esb8HI9KdzZMZJV-cqqUykoitge2va54Cb5t8MEc3_JSt02n2__zcxYK9stqimJhu59XrF8gBcj7x81uTc_Jfi6VAKZ6c/w400-h266/DSC_4953.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Marienfluss scenery<br /><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcLQsEvsl85smIHHAuW3FpngbPUL2N_WnBwpQeXLSgK1KOY277TpxfFHHv-TIA5e7Y4Aj0Mda6kkcfRojO-fFo8J5BxHBOnvnKqY-p_S6HHXloViWYpZthLzQNwbbfjznpHQuvvr1CrA4/s1200/DSC_4955.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="800" data-original-width="1200" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcLQsEvsl85smIHHAuW3FpngbPUL2N_WnBwpQeXLSgK1KOY277TpxfFHHv-TIA5e7Y4Aj0Mda6kkcfRojO-fFo8J5BxHBOnvnKqY-p_S6HHXloViWYpZthLzQNwbbfjznpHQuvvr1CrA4/w400-h266/DSC_4955.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The track down to the Angolan border<br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjL2yu4Eb-xqUzzM-HTEZ4BUINaBqdk5YGexQoTaXB2wAjB6KGOsoIQ69pKctu4eAsZm96oOrLrrl8DaxEJtK3CnY8elH2Xu-p0uIut7VblOf8vuTSAgoVZ7Mh8atcwLhwgZ_a_F8qVeBU/s1200/DSC_5277.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="800" data-original-width="1200" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjL2yu4Eb-xqUzzM-HTEZ4BUINaBqdk5YGexQoTaXB2wAjB6KGOsoIQ69pKctu4eAsZm96oOrLrrl8DaxEJtK3CnY8elH2Xu-p0uIut7VblOf8vuTSAgoVZ7Mh8atcwLhwgZ_a_F8qVeBU/w400-h266/DSC_5277.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Milky Way<br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">We arrived at Camp
Synchro, a commercial campground down by the Kunene River, by lunchtime, having
made much better time than we had feared. We scarfed down more scones for lunch
and then loafed in the extreme heat; our altimeter showed only 280 metres above
sea level, and our thermometer displayed a harsh 42 degrees. I read and juggled
under the trees and struck up a conversation with a large group camped next to
us. It turned out they were a group of adventurers who got together every year
for an extreme endurance expedition which they then turned into a short film.
This year they had walked across a large swath of Namibia, dragging their
equipment behind them on handcarts. They had a film crew and a group of local
guides and support staff with them and were unwinding and relaxing at the end
of what had proven to be a more challenging undertaking than they had
anticipated. It was good fun to talk with them and pick their brains about
great places to visit in the country. That evening after I had cooked up a
tasty stirfry, we were invited over to play in the adventure crew’s quiz night
and to partake in some of the amazing grilled steaks and sausages that they had
cooked. It was a wonderful end to a memorable day.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiY3i65wJ1iTyY8yNXp1iSWgUJ2YRZDvSFCh7XDhLwhA9aBm1ZDOxnqeTgr6vCzAQ6_p9HjhqJCyDBMU44nQ9z_sZamtL9y1RGvLKpPfGr9nVJnd83xaNDBjL9EDe_zmyI2x26_BfzM0c/s1200/DSC_4978.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="800" data-original-width="1200" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiY3i65wJ1iTyY8yNXp1iSWgUJ2YRZDvSFCh7XDhLwhA9aBm1ZDOxnqeTgr6vCzAQ6_p9HjhqJCyDBMU44nQ9z_sZamtL9y1RGvLKpPfGr9nVJnd83xaNDBjL9EDe_zmyI2x26_BfzM0c/w400-h266/DSC_4978.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Looking across the Cunene River towards Angola<br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">The next day the
adventure crew disappeared in a cloud of dust, leaving us alone at Camp Synchro
except for the Swiss couple who owned the camp. It was a relief not to have to
drive, and I spent the day doing exercises, juggling and finishing the second
draft of my Silk Road manuscript, which was an enormous weight off my mind. I
finished reading Cutting For Stone and ate some of the amazing fresh bread that
Terri baked on the fire in the potjie. We walked along the Cunene River, gazing
across at forbidden Angola (I managed to throw a rock right across into Angolan
territory) and dreaming of future adventures in Stanley. Angola looked like
Namibia here: dry, hot and thinly populated. I had heard and read good things
about the scenery as you drive north towards Luanda, but it would have to wait
for the next installment of Stanley’s Travels. That evening we ate a
wonderfully tender lamb shank stew for dinner, concocted once again in the
always-useful potjie. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCNjqkZRikVsG2XcqY5grmQiJJtY6kKBdDxABzT72_VnqDp0Wzud05fG7xZspRhyphenhyphenhfbRUQiz2slvVFN6dZ4ojAWozXN_3mORT4JiLqgdFUFlc6pm-c_4bG0o7mdjIyKqwLjVHBM52zBj8/s1200/DSC_4951.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="800" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCNjqkZRikVsG2XcqY5grmQiJJtY6kKBdDxABzT72_VnqDp0Wzud05fG7xZspRhyphenhyphenhfbRUQiz2slvVFN6dZ4ojAWozXN_3mORT4JiLqgdFUFlc6pm-c_4bG0o7mdjIyKqwLjVHBM52zBj8/w266-h400/DSC_4951.jpg" width="266" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Lovely lizard<br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">The drive out of the
Marienfluss proved to be much harder than we had anticipated. Rather than
retreat the long, round-about way that we had come, we elected to drive south
over the Otjihaa Pass. The classic route out of the Marienfluss is over <a href="https://www.dangerousroads.org/africa/namibia/51-van-zyls-pass-namibia.html" target="_blank">VanZyl’s Pass, a steep, challenging and often dangerous off-road route</a> beloved by
South African 4x4 enthusiasts. We had no desire to test our equipment and
driving abilities, so we chose what was supposed to be an easier option. At
first it was easy, cruising up the sandy valley, at least until the wires that
Petrus had installed to repair the diesel pump shook loose. Luckily a passing
South African family who had spent the night at Camp Synchro happened by
shortly afterwards and the father proved to be a skilled mechanic. A spot of
Super Glue and some electrical tape proved to be enough to keep the wires
firmly attached, and soon enough we were back on our way, grateful as ever for
the help we kept receiving from passing motorists.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">The climb over the
Otjihaa was brutal: steep and boulder-strewn, with a very narrow cleft
between rock faces that made us nervous that we would bang into the stones as Stanley swayed side to side while bouncing over the boulders. Terri was in
tears as we contemplated the crux of the climb, but she managed to get us
safely over the top. It was an unspeakable relief to reach the bottom on the
other side and resume bumping along track that was merely slow and rough rather
than death-defying. We stopped in at a tiny liquor store in the settlement of
Orupembe for beer and wine, then continued until we found a place to camp near
a river crossing, between areas of intensive Himba settlement. We were both
shattered by the stress of driving the Otjihaa and incredulous that it was
considered the easy option, and that the Swiss family at Camp Synchro regularly
drove this route to Opuwo for supplies in one day.<o:p></o:p></span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQvs1dEiH4GLEarLbYmbeVjYEZBzIJCmMHO5RiP4hTm-fa3JwBB-BCIbGvE9FWOTFMYF_nJ7_faEpaY-Oks3ijuyqZLuUJ766DMqdD0_Waz35-BGNhz1uuwBClL0OS_cLx4yabKSCy7tE/s1200/DSC_4872.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="800" data-original-width="1200" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQvs1dEiH4GLEarLbYmbeVjYEZBzIJCmMHO5RiP4hTm-fa3JwBB-BCIbGvE9FWOTFMYF_nJ7_faEpaY-Oks3ijuyqZLuUJ766DMqdD0_Waz35-BGNhz1uuwBClL0OS_cLx4yabKSCy7tE/w400-h266/DSC_4872.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">More desert flora<br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPwOos394EKgtsMgodH_R-W91CQMEMgRCjaZ134AEQeGaR6bF4UfanNz-oifIuACw04NwivHNRQCqvtPrhNBFMFTMrhqOnBfqQSdvH-SItgxv_tua_uxFtQ6CB4zZ1gl6PyNwsN0JC72A/s1200/DSC_5011.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="800" data-original-width="1200" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPwOos394EKgtsMgodH_R-W91CQMEMgRCjaZ134AEQeGaR6bF4UfanNz-oifIuACw04NwivHNRQCqvtPrhNBFMFTMrhqOnBfqQSdvH-SItgxv_tua_uxFtQ6CB4zZ1gl6PyNwsN0JC72A/w400-h266/DSC_5011.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Chameleons are so cool!<br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><div><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; text-align: justify;">The drive to Opuwo the
next day was easier, although there was still a very rough section to navigate
over the Giraffe Mountains, and lots of ups and downs after that. The final 60
km into Opuwo was on really good road, and it was a bit of a shock to drive
into the largest town we had seen since leaving Swakopmund two weeks earlier.
We nabbed a campsite at the Opuwo Country Hotel, located on a hill above town,
then headed into the downtown to restock our depleted fridge and pantry, our
fuel tanks and our phone credit. We braaied up delicious sosaties and went to
bed happy with our two weeks in Damaraland and Kaokoland.</span></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYzO5rf9y5FZcEAptjTX5I3shcfb03RXFeDRfWjVWCZ-c50wbpqK633b2ivchKLpwPU40R2yC9CPpDYpMFAqJnxT9ji9wwY7By5_rMFCVB5mr76hbWOqnxJHdMYcrW4ks5NCSIz7k4Sg8/s1200/DSC_5079.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="800" data-original-width="1200" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYzO5rf9y5FZcEAptjTX5I3shcfb03RXFeDRfWjVWCZ-c50wbpqK633b2ivchKLpwPU40R2yC9CPpDYpMFAqJnxT9ji9wwY7By5_rMFCVB5mr76hbWOqnxJHdMYcrW4ks5NCSIz7k4Sg8/w640-h426/DSC_5079.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption">Yours Truly by the campfire<br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 107%;">The
Hoanib River At Last<o:p></o:p></span></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 107%;"> </span></b></p>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgML86g7EOY8Qf6aNE6T7h_Wj85Ta7L4T7EsT_fQeoq8gCYqD79DMXa04ERbwLvZbaek67ZE3puyItw6XLT89TviVntelrjCWTYFMh7UwmT_8fMEO54giCVNo04_rGxWxB6Ig6O0Lx9ELc/s1200/DSC_5054.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="800" data-original-width="1200" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgML86g7EOY8Qf6aNE6T7h_Wj85Ta7L4T7EsT_fQeoq8gCYqD79DMXa04ERbwLvZbaek67ZE3puyItw6XLT89TviVntelrjCWTYFMh7UwmT_8fMEO54giCVNo04_rGxWxB6Ig6O0Lx9ELc/w400-h266/DSC_5054.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Khowarib Gorge</td></tr></tbody></table><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">After a day off in Opuwo
spent doing admin (including trying in vain to get my fingerprints taken as a
requirement for my new job) and planning out the next stage of our trip, we set
off on June 7<sup>th</sup> for the Khowarib Canyon, where we had previously
stayed before setting off into Kaokoland. The Hoanib River, beside which we had
camped, flows downstream and dries up into the sand not far from where we had
stayed. The dry riverbed of the Hoanib is one of the iconic 4WD adventures of
Namibia, beloved by South African tourists and anyone hoping to catch a glimpse
of some of Namibia’s desert elephants who wander the canyons in search of
ephemeral water sources and greenery, hearing the sound of far-off thunder and
rain from a distance of up to 100 kilometres. We had previously decided not to
drive the Hoanib because it sounded rough, with very challenging driving
and a real chance of getting stuck. Chatting with the film crew at Camp
Synchro, though, we had learned that it was definitely less demanding driving
than we had already done over the Otjihaa, or <a href="http://graydonstravels.blogspot.com/2016/10/stanley-explores-western-zambia.html" target="_blank">in Zambia’s Liuwa Plains</a>. With
Terri’s driving skills freshly honed from our adventures in the north, we
decided that we should take the opportunity to explore the area.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjviqs88ZPYWWag3d4pnIMq8507r8e0A1790nDkpxYA66SwvrO43Wuk1x3T1l7MCGZZF-du2OqPFkgaOwbcowT6GVEudDKSfUhmo-AdjG_pDKUF4NtTnLf6EIVjQ1lCnWnECXVziqolYBc/s1200/DSC_5115.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="800" data-original-width="1200" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjviqs88ZPYWWag3d4pnIMq8507r8e0A1790nDkpxYA66SwvrO43Wuk1x3T1l7MCGZZF-du2OqPFkgaOwbcowT6GVEudDKSfUhmo-AdjG_pDKUF4NtTnLf6EIVjQ1lCnWnECXVziqolYBc/w400-h266/DSC_5115.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My first successful long-exposure star trails photo</td></tr></tbody></table><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">It was a long drive
southeast along the main C43 road, still gravel but delightfully smooth and
easy after the tracks of Kaokoland. The road climbed quite high, up to 1650
metres above sea level. Here, a little further inland, there were actual
forests lining the road, but no visible wild mammal life to be seen. Khowarib Lodge
had no riverside campsites available, so we decided to move a couple of
kilometres up the river to the Khowarib Community Campsite, where we had a
beautiful site with good facilities and only one other pair of guests at half
the price of the lodge’s campsite. Terri and I had a lovely pre-dinner walk
along the river, even wading out into the stream at one point. The rocks were
alive with birds, there was a cooling breeze blowing along the river and the
scenery was magnificent. Terri concocted a delicious tender beef stew in the
potjie, and we sat outside a long time under the stars after dinner. I tried my
first long-exposure photos, trying to capture the rotation of the night sky
while also capturing the orange glow from the campfire.<o:p></o:p></span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfFg9wAEJhuCzAr19ca2LyiEAHSAEe3-awqoIO0ReYMB1rkq0ftb2VZ3HB2PmEQ0-YfCoK32zOYN0oSXOHDP-dQona6j-_ChjLg2KTXtn2x0HMHR68K87s1NvTKHRhMSx0fPYhbxms3Wk/s1200/DSC_5188.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="800" data-original-width="1200" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfFg9wAEJhuCzAr19ca2LyiEAHSAEe3-awqoIO0ReYMB1rkq0ftb2VZ3HB2PmEQ0-YfCoK32zOYN0oSXOHDP-dQona6j-_ChjLg2KTXtn2x0HMHR68K87s1NvTKHRhMSx0fPYhbxms3Wk/w400-h266/DSC_5188.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The track along the Hoanib<br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWm9MgzZtcGGaogj5DPf1KBC-N6tO7ykW9KpSICtbtwyFz_4RNiakzB5e6qhawEr7j53XsLFHxVVGHnbT5eNqCxbv0Js1F7Q4rHz9RJu21-EJccy77G99-MHuRSuCI_3BXJuEButoFtaA/s1200/DSC_5122.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="800" data-original-width="1200" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWm9MgzZtcGGaogj5DPf1KBC-N6tO7ykW9KpSICtbtwyFz_4RNiakzB5e6qhawEr7j53XsLFHxVVGHnbT5eNqCxbv0Js1F7Q4rHz9RJu21-EJccy77G99-MHuRSuCI_3BXJuEButoFtaA/w400-h266/DSC_5122.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A million-star sleeping spot!<br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">With only a short day of
driving in front of us, we treated ourselves to a sleep-in the next day, not
getting going until 10:00. We drove downstream to Sesfontein, treated ourselves
to a boerewors lunch at the Fort in a vain attempt to get some internet, and
drove out of town around 12:30 to the Hoanib River turnoff. The beginning of
the drive was unpleasant, a series of dust bowls that coated everything in fine
grey powder. We got through this and into a much sandier section that was
relatively easy to drive once we had let plenty of air out of our tires to
increase our surface area. After a while we passed through the entrance gate to
the Hoanib, where we parted with a fairly steep N$300 per night for camping
fees before entering into the Hoanib River concession. The driving was moderately
challenging, a mixture of deep sand, rocks, water (from the occasional
surviving waterhole in the riverbed) and dust. We were turned back by a hill
that was too steep to climb, but managed to find an alternative track around
it. There were extensive reedbeds along the watercourse, full of hundreds of
redbilled queleas and African quailfinch. We arrived at a campsite in the
middle of nowhere, up above the river on a small knoll, around 3:00 and set up
camp. We did some birding, walked around to stretch our legs and then did some
route planning. The scenery was striking: stark stone mountains, white powdery
sand and dust, green shrubs and a sense of almost monastic isolation slightly
reminiscent of the Sinai. There were piles of fresh elephant dung along the
track and even around our campsite, but no sightings of live elephants. Instead
I contented myself with photos of the same purple crickets that we had seen in
such profusion up near the Marienfluss.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMVgvMPg-TqSk_AXAMWz8uGuTbYn02ttS1VltiayYJfO5EKcGSwZlQb2pf7VmCem9AsV3NTnNjUeBDlaWFErzZQMIvP5hX-i876_qteqIdGHpCV4LiNGEbhrnojjedZpkISNDG2rkzTL0/s1200/DSC_5146.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="800" data-original-width="1200" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMVgvMPg-TqSk_AXAMWz8uGuTbYn02ttS1VltiayYJfO5EKcGSwZlQb2pf7VmCem9AsV3NTnNjUeBDlaWFErzZQMIvP5hX-i876_qteqIdGHpCV4LiNGEbhrnojjedZpkISNDG2rkzTL0/w400-h266/DSC_5146.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Hoanib River valley</td></tr></tbody></table><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">June 9<sup>th</sup> is
described in my diary as a 5-star day, and with good reason. We started with a
delicious oatmeal porridge breakfast, then broke camp and drove up to a nearby
river junction viewpoint, up a precipitous track that we might not have
attempted had we not watched another vehicle successfully climb it the day
before. The views from the top were spectacular in all directions, into the
maze of canyons that dissect the rocky mountains. After taking photographs, we
descended and continued downstream on the Hoanib, peering around the drooping
leafy branches of enormous river trees in hopes of spotting elephants.
Eventually our searching was rewarded when we spotted a lone elephant loping
along the track, followed shortly afterwards by a mother and youngster. We sat
and watched them for quite a while, admiring their long, slender legs
(apparently an adaptation to dry desert conditions) and the tender parental
care that the mother lavished on her baby. There were probably other elephants
around nearby, but they had likely dispersed in search of food and were nowhere
to be seen. We drove onward pleased to have seen such rare animals surviving
and thriving in such a harsh environment. Further down the track we spotted
several giraffes before turning around and returning to a turnoff up the Onias,
a tributary of the main Hoanib River. We soon spotted a luxury tented camp
hidden in a side canyon, then found a perfect piece of nowhere for our own
campsite, in the shade of a cluster of trees. I cleaned our radiator, which was
so full of grass seeds that it had almost caught fire earlier, then did some
yoga, read and relaxed before collecting some sizeable chunks of mopane wood
that were scattered around on the ground. Our campfire that evening was
roaring, providing us with perfectly roasted potatoes and onions and slightly
charred steaks. We lingered beside the campfire for hours as I did more
long-exposure photos, before climbing into bed perfectly content.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"></span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsxLbtxfPNvUCQAs8a-Xy3LGtzXzxphvvP-QizIZVJRmcSow4WmXhyKwkCS2jPdYvfSdvQtssUy-PM4hB0JCAQrM16agxfqhuNykSIWt1aanGqI9rAuL7MtXTrVAfw4AxRhxZMqeYAQgM/s1200/DSC_5255.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="800" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsxLbtxfPNvUCQAs8a-Xy3LGtzXzxphvvP-QizIZVJRmcSow4WmXhyKwkCS2jPdYvfSdvQtssUy-PM4hB0JCAQrM16agxfqhuNykSIWt1aanGqI9rAuL7MtXTrVAfw4AxRhxZMqeYAQgM/w266-h400/DSC_5255.jpg" width="266" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Southern Cross long exposure<br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMwlvPNytTabUj3zjrlkKEn1VudUzAA97uQFg-AFvuWTp2hwZmonNMl8P3Le6DkQeMF_TWe3pC084hkrPY4-9XXgihQzewBzPIlU68LUjNmtIOCmuSZF3ntj6IoQj0t7EVVoWOJX6m3EU/s1200/DSC_5163.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="800" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMwlvPNytTabUj3zjrlkKEn1VudUzAA97uQFg-AFvuWTp2hwZmonNMl8P3Le6DkQeMF_TWe3pC084hkrPY4-9XXgihQzewBzPIlU68LUjNmtIOCmuSZF3ntj6IoQj0t7EVVoWOJX6m3EU/w266-h400/DSC_5163.jpg" width="266" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">We just missed these elephants<br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">The next morning marked
the beginning of a three-day period of frustrations with Stanley. We awoke
pre-dawn, had a relaxed breakfast, packed up, put the key into the ignition and
were greeted with silence. The battery seemed to be dead, and we wondered if it
was because we had run our inverter the previous day while driving in order to
charge computers and camera batteries. We tried (again) boosting from our
storage batteries, but it didn’t provide quite enough oomph. After much
fiddling and trying and problem-shooting, we decided that we needed the
assistance of the folks in the luxury tented camp. It was about three kilometres
away, so I set off on one of our folding bicycles, only to find that the sand
was too soft for cycling. I switched to jogging, and ran easily along the
track, looking down at the sand to see what sorts of wildlife spoor there was.
I saw a couple of elephant footprints and then, halfway there, joining from the
side, there was a long line of fresh prints of a large cat. It looked much too
big to be a leopard, and I quickly surmised that I was running along the trail
of a lion who might be hours or mere minutes in front of me. I definitely felt
a surge of adrenaline, and only relaxed when I turned off the main track to
enter the tented camp and left the lion spoor behind.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNDroMd2YnSFMjJ5y5dlE66sRABlX2J3ddfDeo-Mgi_6BRR08onldDqxR0sePNGtrAYAZGaviL2CC3E2Ao-6-Xg-xgi4LmU7VWjiC393cnwP0cQf9htRf4MKougWUeyIhhBd-D6AmyXQk/s1200/DSC_5157.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="800" data-original-width="1200" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNDroMd2YnSFMjJ5y5dlE66sRABlX2J3ddfDeo-Mgi_6BRR08onldDqxR0sePNGtrAYAZGaviL2CC3E2Ao-6-Xg-xgi4LmU7VWjiC393cnwP0cQf9htRf4MKougWUeyIhhBd-D6AmyXQk/w400-h266/DSC_5157.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Desert-dwelling elephant along the Hoanib River<br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">The staff at the tented
camp were surprised to see a tourist jog in, but were very helpful. One of
their vehicles was headed to Sesfontein in half an hour, and agreed to give me
a lift back and jump start the car. It was a relief when Stanley started first
at the first try, and we waved a grateful farewell to the camp staff before setting
off ourselves in the direction of Sesfontein. We followed a small but
well-travelled track (obviously the main supply route for the tented camp)
across a lovely uninhabited golden grassland until we rejoined the
Sesfontein-Purros road not far from where we had last been stranded when
Stanley wouldn’t start. We made our way back to Sesfontein through beautiful
landscape, tanked up on diesel (luckily they had had a diesel delivery since
our first visit to town!) and then drove back towards Khowarib. We were in the
mood for wild camping again, and so we consulted the iOverlander app to find
that several people reported camping in a forest just north of the road only a
few kilometres east of Sesfontein. We followed our GPS and found ourselves in
an enchanted glade of sizeable trees, full of birds, including the
golden-tailed woodpecker, Damara hornbill and the southern white-crowned
shrike. Nobody seemed to live nearby or to graze animals in the vicinity, so we
had this magical spot entirely to ourselves. We had lucked out again on finding
an ideal campsite.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgM03ZOu4Mb4h3QtaY3dSP8G5zLDpoknhSVaZGt_8ncFBXQGVnFsqpoYAUoUuiVIlcHK1TvEunKxtWuGHA0noc3L3jgSM16CnM54uyp1yagAYj1BZ1k_fz9-GyKZ-Y5DwATvi_8oygmpxs/s1200/DSC_5284.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="800" data-original-width="1200" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgM03ZOu4Mb4h3QtaY3dSP8G5zLDpoknhSVaZGt_8ncFBXQGVnFsqpoYAUoUuiVIlcHK1TvEunKxtWuGHA0noc3L3jgSM16CnM54uyp1yagAYj1BZ1k_fz9-GyKZ-Y5DwATvi_8oygmpxs/w400-h266/DSC_5284.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Our Belgian rescuers<br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">The following morning
Stanley wouldn’t start again. We had to admit that it probably had nothing to
do with the inverter (we hadn’t used it the day before), but it wasn’t clear
why the battery had drained overnight. We walked out through the woods to the main
road and tried to flag down passing vehicles. The first to stop was a Namibian
couple who wanted us to pay them N$300 for jump-starting our car, so we
declined their offer. Next came a rental 4x4 full of 4 Belgian tourists and
their Namibian guide who drove into the forest and got Stanley running again.
We thanked them profusely and then spent the day driving east to Sesfontein and
north to Palmwag along the now-familiar main road. The scenery was beautiful
and we passed a huge herd of springbok along the way. We turned off the main
road after passing through the veterinary fence and immediately the road turned
to a rough, rutted track that soon gave us a flat tire. It took ages for me to
extract the spare tire from its storage place under the back end of Stanley’s
camper insert, and the flat tire clearly was never going to be much use to
anyone anymore, with a long jagged gash running a quarter of the length of the
sidewall. Once we got going again, we ground our way over the steep Grootberg
Pass past a sizeable herd of black-faced impala (just like the common impala,
only with a black smudge down their nose; it was a new species for us) and
eventually ended up at Kamanjab Rest Camp, a slightly down-at-heel place. I
managed to catch my sandals on fire that evening from the incredible heat
generated by our mopane fire.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">The third and final
installment of the Stanley-won’t-start saga happened the next morning. When the
ignition wouldn’t fire, we asked Rolf, the old German farmer who owned the
camp, for help. He tried jump-starting us first with his small truck, and then
with his big tractor, both times unsuccessfully. He was very mechanically
minded, and after peering inside the engine, he diagnosed that the battery was
completely dry. He filled it with distilled water and tried jumping it again,
still with no luck. Finally he got us started by towing Stanley with the
tractor and then having Terri put Stanley into third gear, which got the engine
going. We were very grateful to Rolf and drove off into Kamanjab town to see
what the local garage could tell us. The garage owner took one look at the
battery and pronounced it dead thanks to internal short-circuiting. We bought a
new battery and a new tire, had the battery installed, reinserted the tire into
its space underneath and finally set off for Etosha Park, hours later and
hundreds of dollars poorer than we had hoped. It was a relief, though, to
finally have the starting problems diagnosed.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguaN-VnPb000YIZJdJs73sPIfBm-45X811xRzEaHV3PRQ4tOPdL5uvsF-CQSdB53eV5sWgfE-LbPD6ApeHAla-hOL979S62yXsL2fSGxZVHxnZe8Sk__bixFY-pEbzM-8fp6jmFcCKtRA/s1200/DSC_5277.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="800" data-original-width="1200" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguaN-VnPb000YIZJdJs73sPIfBm-45X811xRzEaHV3PRQ4tOPdL5uvsF-CQSdB53eV5sWgfE-LbPD6ApeHAla-hOL979S62yXsL2fSGxZVHxnZe8Sk__bixFY-pEbzM-8fp6jmFcCKtRA/w640-h426/DSC_5277.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The centre of the Milky Way in Sagittarius</td></tr></tbody></table><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 107%;">A
Return Visit to Etosha<o:p></o:p></span></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"> </span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjo-QFxB3_cXKSlfLrIVGHehl2L2pJCM3bG8jRIQpKqgcm_MuOPkoNZh5fVekgbDoGDBSsn6MpFDreFDA2S2-ddjInVY3oWi0HN-H059IZO0m2QXM3MG6QtAmBMzCR2pIrINC7K2osXutk/s1200/DSC_5517.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="800" data-original-width="1200" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjo-QFxB3_cXKSlfLrIVGHehl2L2pJCM3bG8jRIQpKqgcm_MuOPkoNZh5fVekgbDoGDBSsn6MpFDreFDA2S2-ddjInVY3oWi0HN-H059IZO0m2QXM3MG6QtAmBMzCR2pIrINC7K2osXutk/w400-h266/DSC_5517.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Secretarybirds<br /><br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOznhyphenhyphen1CCgBg32ZpvP67y2ATT2etsRu6p_zEkl7diYj_KciKKYUrmAC00A0cckgboMbnAWXTTOKyFQbYA8qlCtADF8aclFSahi6mfF5wa2HDgnNVMwRnIHbSdcz8sL2eVHO73YzMB5smY/s1200/DSC_5327.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="800" data-original-width="1200" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOznhyphenhyphen1CCgBg32ZpvP67y2ATT2etsRu6p_zEkl7diYj_KciKKYUrmAC00A0cckgboMbnAWXTTOKyFQbYA8qlCtADF8aclFSahi6mfF5wa2HDgnNVMwRnIHbSdcz8sL2eVHO73YzMB5smY/w400-h266/DSC_5327.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Dark chanting goshawk</td></tr></tbody></table><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">We had been to Etosha
before, and had originally not planned to return on this trip, but some other
ideas we had had, such as going to the Waterberg Plateau, had proved to be
unfeasible in this season, so Etosha, one of Africa’s great parks, seemed like
a reasonable way to finish our tour of northern Namibia. We were at least going
to see a new corner of the park, the western end, which we hadn’t seen in 2017.
We entered the park and drove slowly along an atrociously washboarded track towards
Olifantsrus. The landscape was flattish bushveldt, and held a surprising amount of
game: multitudes of both species of zebra (Hartmann’s mountain and plains),
springbok, gemsbok, wildebeest, giraffe. We arrived at Olifantsrus around 6:00,
entered the animal-proof fence and set up camp before hurrying off to the hide,
set up next to a large waterhole. We were hoping for black rhino, but there
were none to be seen, although there were lots of birds (including our
favourite, the secretarybird), a couple of elephants and a black-backed jackal.
We returned to Stanley, ate a delicious chicken dinner, did the dishes and then
headed back to the hide hoping for a late-night show. Sadly, there was very
little new other than a probable sighting of a side-stripe jackal, seen much less
frequently than its ubiquitous black-backed cousin.<o:p></o:p></span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDS-HP0dlqCSGZpE3Kk7Q5Gn5l-JZB7XVoIxtMavgfKEvywFKKW2HRALXpOkeJ0nvDlhxEwNVIAskn9AAF8S-KpGyG4I5AjxYyCZ3Gp4mUuNUpfQKTPU0USFuWNFkimu-PVq5q4RT4i-w/s1200/DSC_5358.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="800" data-original-width="1200" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDS-HP0dlqCSGZpE3Kk7Q5Gn5l-JZB7XVoIxtMavgfKEvywFKKW2HRALXpOkeJ0nvDlhxEwNVIAskn9AAF8S-KpGyG4I5AjxYyCZ3Gp4mUuNUpfQKTPU0USFuWNFkimu-PVq5q4RT4i-w/w400-h266/DSC_5358.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Tawny eagle<br /><br /><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAOhPWlhB552JqbFgsjvjDX43dbiNjZixvlcAOvBEYLJz5QdM0cPkZAzk2bXOAVbl2Ow1ZytDvXk1KLBV1GMI6i-dqMnt1FFGDmDPQDcgk8yBji2T-e1T5ptu_RHlGPKsnPQLqveI7Uwg/s1200/DSC_5503.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="800" data-original-width="1200" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAOhPWlhB552JqbFgsjvjDX43dbiNjZixvlcAOvBEYLJz5QdM0cPkZAzk2bXOAVbl2Ow1ZytDvXk1KLBV1GMI6i-dqMnt1FFGDmDPQDcgk8yBji2T-e1T5ptu_RHlGPKsnPQLqveI7Uwg/w400-h266/DSC_5503.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Tiny turtle, Olifantsrus<br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><br /></td></tr></tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRHReuO-VqQ5ecHG7Zazgt7IBBu6KhwNYk905O8f3cb3KI0xuFjSVVNc-vWdS5cgYENe3M4omrCSTIWxzT7CltRN0iBNU1V73PAHRZ_q_ejSKaIzFQmSLUZLT894hs6IT4X1tknHNLtkw/s1200/DSC_5390.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="800" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRHReuO-VqQ5ecHG7Zazgt7IBBu6KhwNYk905O8f3cb3KI0xuFjSVVNc-vWdS5cgYENe3M4omrCSTIWxzT7CltRN0iBNU1V73PAHRZ_q_ejSKaIzFQmSLUZLT894hs6IT4X1tknHNLtkw/w266-h400/DSC_5390.jpg" width="266" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Olifantsrus waterhole<br /><br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; text-align: justify;">We had booked two nights
at Olifantsrus, and so we took the next day completely off from driving. We did
some laundry, read and sketched, and I got in a lot of juggling practice. We
dropped in periodically at the hide and saw
a tiny baby blacksmith plover, several old bull elephants, lots of zebra
and springbok and then, at sunset, the real show began. A group of at least 25
elephants loped into sight and spent an hour or more drinking, playing and
fighting right beside us. There were four impossibly cute babies, but it was
the juvenile males that provided the best viewing, as they locked tusks and
wrestled, half-seriously and half in jest, against the fading afterglow of
sunset. It was a magical experience, and we went to bed early and happy.</span><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjE6pqY-Z9VQmCV2O4bcyKvReXOYcIEbCU51SOQjgWKrk9fpOuGfkOcspPBMu1iOfYiUmqrhD8DfwuKeqpPDlO0XJyUDmyuEoCMrLOUVI3XyTvPuTRniQsFS0Cfq7KAnJnADTYc1gerNlg/s1200/DSC_5628.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="800" data-original-width="1200" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjE6pqY-Z9VQmCV2O4bcyKvReXOYcIEbCU51SOQjgWKrk9fpOuGfkOcspPBMu1iOfYiUmqrhD8DfwuKeqpPDlO0XJyUDmyuEoCMrLOUVI3XyTvPuTRniQsFS0Cfq7KAnJnADTYc1gerNlg/w400-h266/DSC_5628.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Elephants fighting at Olifantsrus<br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVrSdv-Veos-6qONUi0WTvCVa0UwEMyDfxfdj5cGwh-Tzw6j1owxxkAIIlmEIIJIXGgvFkq5Gvk35VogU9WAms26_R06Y4nyIQNtUtu5wz_HNb-MTz1UH8MUG3KxmnGPnueLeg_Wq5yrU/s1200/DSC_5640.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="800" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVrSdv-Veos-6qONUi0WTvCVa0UwEMyDfxfdj5cGwh-Tzw6j1owxxkAIIlmEIIJIXGgvFkq5Gvk35VogU9WAms26_R06Y4nyIQNtUtu5wz_HNb-MTz1UH8MUG3KxmnGPnueLeg_Wq5yrU/w266-h400/DSC_5640.jpg" width="266" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A very chilly pre-dawn Etosha<br /><br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">We were up very early the
next morning, awoken in the pre-dawn by noisily yipping hyenas. Unable to fall
asleep again, we got up in the cold (our thermometer read 5 degrees at
sunrise!) and swaddled ourselves in jackets and sleeping bags to sit out and
watch the sun slowly light up the sky as I snapped more astrophotographs,
enjoying the completely different sky to what I was used to in the evenings.
The hide was bereft of game that morning after the night’s blockbuster show, so
we breakfasted quickly on tea, coffee and rusks and were on the road by 7:20
for the long drive to Okaukuejo. The road continued to be rough, and the
waterholes along the way were either empty or closed to the public. We stopped
at Sonderveld picnic spot (a surprisingly desolate little spot) where we pulled
out the stove and cooked up bacon and eggs, lamenting the fact that our gas burners
were clogged with fine dust and burning slowly. After breakfast we began to see
more game as we got out of the bush and into grassveld. After a great deal of
gemsbok, springbok zebras and wildebeest, Terri spotted a couple of male lions
under a tree, unfortunately too far away to get good photos. We stopped for
lunch at Ghost Tree forest picnic spot, where we were entertained by the
massive nest condominiums constructed by sociable weavers. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"></span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9l94MEBqi-97-b84jU5aWQQaWLlD8ETmFdrfUUP1M2h05wqERaI6ILXj7vie_68PQJKHgY7HAjeGYQstrQ65hf2QXL0xDZt5gSFNoyuC_QztaEePHi3bsz0GzsLxSRuVC2Z0LGqZNvOI/s1200/DSC_5532.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="800" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9l94MEBqi-97-b84jU5aWQQaWLlD8ETmFdrfUUP1M2h05wqERaI6ILXj7vie_68PQJKHgY7HAjeGYQstrQ65hf2QXL0xDZt5gSFNoyuC_QztaEePHi3bsz0GzsLxSRuVC2Z0LGqZNvOI/w266-h400/DSC_5532.jpg" width="266" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Elephant's trunk<br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-ItL0V8pQb42x5Tc_WkmFdJT-SA1FNyBG68FUzJQXBcTEeOk7S5dI0AAnGJ9vh7ypUcZxJzxbjeu-Po-SKCj1FbfwYSrsLGDtfuNRohqW7XbEIGh7smEr765W7i3PNOLXruJqBplCTL0/s1200/DSC_5665.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="800" data-original-width="1200" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-ItL0V8pQb42x5Tc_WkmFdJT-SA1FNyBG68FUzJQXBcTEeOk7S5dI0AAnGJ9vh7ypUcZxJzxbjeu-Po-SKCj1FbfwYSrsLGDtfuNRohqW7XbEIGh7smEr765W7i3PNOLXruJqBplCTL0/w400-h266/DSC_5665.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Lion under a tree, Etosha<br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; text-align: justify;">On the way into Okaukuejo
we passed huge concentrations of game in the grassveldt, but there were no
campsites available there so we continued onwards towards Halali. Although it
made for a long day of driving, we were rewarded by a series of great
waterholes. At Nebrowni waterhole we spotted our first black rhino in the wild
after nearly a year in southern Africa. We sat and watched him for quite a long
time, feeling glad that there are still black rhinos that have escaped the
scourge of poaching that has nearly wiped this endearing animal from the face
of the earth. Sueda and Salvadora waterholes gave us a plethora of birdlife, while
Rietfontein gave us lions (and the obligatory gaggle of safari vehicles
clustered around them). By 5:30 we were at Halali (where they luckily had
plenty of campsites available) and within minutes we were braiing up lamb
chops. As we finished eating, a series of enthusiastic hyena whoops called us to
the hide, at the edge of another large waterhole. The waterhole is illuminated
at night, which allowed us to see a black rhino mother and child, some 25
elephants and three very noisy hyenas. We returned to Stanley, sat up talking
over a nightcap, were disturbed by a honey badger rampaging through the campsite, and were in bed unusually late for us.</span><div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNG4XnEVKEVN6w9yTr8ODvvGkUr1hOgnIWTeFAxfWvk4NxPEkJrPK2sXYX3jQGAhX8RPeiAKyr8qFo0vyNVPYGfJRQLx9NpDhNtPnlcVei_9grRz9bkjPaRjDaYjd7DnHYCWTQ10kDS6M/s1200/DSC_5751.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="800" data-original-width="1200" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNG4XnEVKEVN6w9yTr8ODvvGkUr1hOgnIWTeFAxfWvk4NxPEkJrPK2sXYX3jQGAhX8RPeiAKyr8qFo0vyNVPYGfJRQLx9NpDhNtPnlcVei_9grRz9bkjPaRjDaYjd7DnHYCWTQ10kDS6M/w400-h266/DSC_5751.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A persistently mischievous honey badger in Halali campsite<br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table></div><div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjD8ckrR7M_9xmCsMRlBd2u32ry0r633e6muXm-p6cwOrbTOqVQhCxkg9cHReknCLCOoBKEVfiLHxEtXjqS1AjbHFD92NQALQHmE55mukw35S1lV9UaQJ4LNAYnLYyeiZXDnfM0ZbSdrXY/s1200/DSC_5691.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="800" data-original-width="1200" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjD8ckrR7M_9xmCsMRlBd2u32ry0r633e6muXm-p6cwOrbTOqVQhCxkg9cHReknCLCOoBKEVfiLHxEtXjqS1AjbHFD92NQALQHmE55mukw35S1lV9UaQJ4LNAYnLYyeiZXDnfM0ZbSdrXY/w400-h266/DSC_5691.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Our first black rhino of Stanley's Travels<br /><br /><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg43LeHGt3Pm1QLoxC2Od4SzEBG0GND3ZwGusSh78Gkytna_B_DIuiMsPpqYfa3xwICpudCBJkg_TMJHvisNyxWpuTNAGX9SQ_S2gFLF0hiFYuXHQuuUCWlT96Qv_Z_9f5pv_ISIUG-9t4/s1200/DSC_5687.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="801" data-original-width="1200" height="268" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg43LeHGt3Pm1QLoxC2Od4SzEBG0GND3ZwGusSh78Gkytna_B_DIuiMsPpqYfa3xwICpudCBJkg_TMJHvisNyxWpuTNAGX9SQ_S2gFLF0hiFYuXHQuuUCWlT96Qv_Z_9f5pv_ISIUG-9t4/w400-h268/DSC_5687.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Gemsbok<br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table></td></tr></tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsQQpy4Bloqax5kIy0yeRCzQiomCRU0zwsqR12JspLQUR8Y8TGTyMSH559h_wMdeuk_Cq6N3bPJuuTj5jZnKJdDGvgiIsV376GdBxJDpSV_nUOiwiXct97szDR0GRt6aBVnRS1WeIwNCs/s1200/DSC_5757.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="800" data-original-width="1200" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsQQpy4Bloqax5kIy0yeRCzQiomCRU0zwsqR12JspLQUR8Y8TGTyMSH559h_wMdeuk_Cq6N3bPJuuTj5jZnKJdDGvgiIsV376GdBxJDpSV_nUOiwiXct97szDR0GRt6aBVnRS1WeIwNCs/w400-h266/DSC_5757.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Feeling pretty pleased with myself out on Etosha Pan<br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; text-align: justify;">We awoke a bit groggy,
breakfasted on oatmeal, and then drove off into the vast emptiness of Etosha
Pan. It was a dramatic spot to stare out into the infinite-seeming white
emptiness of the salt flats, and we took a few self-satisfied photos of
ourselves and Stanley. We were hoping for lots of birds, but we were out of
luck. That morning’s waterholes gave us hartebeest, red hartebeest and
wildebeest in profusion. We stopped in at the easternmost rest camp, Namutoni,
for a delicious chicken sandwich lunch in the deserted restaurant. We still had
a few hours before our 72-hour park pass expired, so we drove along Dik Dik
Drive in search of the Damara dikdik, one of the species that had eluded us the
previous year. We were out of luck again, so we set off for a quick circuit of
Fischer Pan, where we had seen the rarely-spotted aardwolves (a nocturnal
species of hyena that eats only termits) the previous year. There were no
aardwolves to be seen this time, but there were lots of kudu and giraffes at
Klein Namutoni waterhole. </span></div><div><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; text-align: justify;"><br /></span></div><div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiECHovJCMYW6urLEPoX0zjvpppvGg0RAxDjQC7xqpNJFprNLTxNQZ0wFFa0UdiU72YD6AUaMqfeFds_XQmzyba39kIZN0k4ubYi5F_nUCENrn-qkRScTR1Xhhmb5-fUjiH6JR-g3y-3yM/s1200/DSC_5782.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="800" data-original-width="1200" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiECHovJCMYW6urLEPoX0zjvpppvGg0RAxDjQC7xqpNJFprNLTxNQZ0wFFa0UdiU72YD6AUaMqfeFds_XQmzyba39kIZN0k4ubYi5F_nUCENrn-qkRScTR1Xhhmb5-fUjiH6JR-g3y-3yM/w400-h266/DSC_5782.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Banded mongoose<br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table></div><div><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; text-align: justify;">With time pressing, we set off for the park gate with
me at the wheel and Terri watching for game. Suddenly she yelped in triumph and
I came to a halt. She extended an arm in the direction of a roadside bush, and
there it was: a dik dik! It was tiny, with expressive, elegant eyes, and we sat
and watched it with wonder until we were in danger of being late to the gate.
We turned reluctantly away from the dik dik and sped off to the gate, saying
goodbye for a second time to one of Africa’s foremost game reserves.</span></div><div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGlngOZwN6QGnkKgRASvDJGMMTNHEJssrg8H9RxL63Xo9gnGEPQ9dGeg9HSbR8w3esFf9w2DdWJwYIIv3wC5HnBJn5fIURVeJy3l249vobRxwZOSeNkUZqJJEE4GEYbLncOgCdsIvEcEc/s1200/DSC_5803.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="800" data-original-width="1200" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGlngOZwN6QGnkKgRASvDJGMMTNHEJssrg8H9RxL63Xo9gnGEPQ9dGeg9HSbR8w3esFf9w2DdWJwYIIv3wC5HnBJn5fIURVeJy3l249vobRxwZOSeNkUZqJJEE4GEYbLncOgCdsIvEcEc/w400-h266/DSC_5803.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Damara dik dik spotted by eagle-eyed Terri near the park gate<br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">We weren’t ready to head
too far away from the park, so we followed our GPS to the Onguma Lead Wood
campsite, right on the perimeter of Etosha. It was a spectacular setting, and we
had a memorable sunset looking out over a small water reservoir with herons
perched on a dead tree rising from the water
which looked picturesque, backlit by the burnished copper of the sunset. As we
gazed at this peaceful scene one of the herons flew down to the water’s edge
and speared a Namaqua dove that was busy drinking. I didn’t know that herons
hunted other birds, and it came as a somewhat bloody surprise to see it fly off
with the lifeless dove hanging from its beak. The campfire that evening was
strangely bereft of warmth to fend off the night chill, and we thought
longingly of our desert campfires fed by roaring mopane logs.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"> </span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsyTm8SrWfYH5QujcxU8KDh26IuyjIq1JoLMqNahNCp2mwapSSjd-fnwSG1FiiMQBCQPgi2h_i_2VZsXHQoFjt8wGJEjioeojSwfx4GToDxwGhU5ALpkTxY-WQ4l2xhwPeBG7_kR4VLek/s1200/DSC_5527.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="800" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsyTm8SrWfYH5QujcxU8KDh26IuyjIq1JoLMqNahNCp2mwapSSjd-fnwSG1FiiMQBCQPgi2h_i_2VZsXHQoFjt8wGJEjioeojSwfx4GToDxwGhU5ALpkTxY-WQ4l2xhwPeBG7_kR4VLek/w426-h640/DSC_5527.jpg" width="426" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">One of my favourite elephant photos<br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 107%;">The
Long Drive South<o:p></o:p></span></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"> </span></p>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzTBh9hgxqloaUz1XNHGrgv9eC_p1gmuf5RP4GBjGuSBPOkCCct7z5A0_rnNhaXgOZ9UGN1YfHOVfFdgYtmmAdLyZqHWatAenIW3qG0FviLxnHNT5mYhpfE6PPDrdQJUHzEbfQfwIh-6Y/s1200/DSC_5046.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="800" data-original-width="1200" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzTBh9hgxqloaUz1XNHGrgv9eC_p1gmuf5RP4GBjGuSBPOkCCct7z5A0_rnNhaXgOZ9UGN1YfHOVfFdgYtmmAdLyZqHWatAenIW3qG0FviLxnHNT5mYhpfE6PPDrdQJUHzEbfQfwIh-6Y/w400-h266/DSC_5046.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Boerewors over the fire!</td></tr></tbody></table><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">From here on, we were no
longer exploring the wilds of northern Namibia. Our main focus was getting
Stanley successfully out of the country with the necessary paperwork to get our
money back, and then the long drive south to Cape Town. We took two leisurely
days to drive south to Trans Kalahari Inn, stopping in at one of our favourite
campsites at Otjiwa Safari Lodge. We strolled around its duck-filled reservoir
before lighting a blazing mopane fire, grilling boerewors and roasting sweet
potatoes and sitting up under the stars talking over the adventures that we had
had over the eventful past four weeks.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">It was a finger-numbing 3
degrees when we awoke the next day, and after a pleasant breakfast, we packed
up and then…Stanley wouldn’t drive. He started well enough, but soon lost all
engine power and started emitting blue smoke. We stopped beside the track and
waited for an hour before we dared try starting him again. We topped up his
almost empty engine oil and his slightly low transfer case oil, and watched his
differential dripping oil. We drove along the main road back to Windhoek with
both of us peering anxiously at the dashboard gauges for signs of further
trouble. Nothing happened, so we headed to Trans Kalahari and grilled up a huge
feast of sosaties to celebrate our successful return from a month of northern
adventures.<o:p></o:p></span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgexxOAJ7ekqhNUt3Ku7tWaeP0lkMUblpA3a0qHBwkV2FkL9zGAmDlL30rxvR4FF8R9tKIgj-WpdYPx1_J-4YqoHH47d4z_6w92VyWJ-xgmMjakYdmR61GlnJqJqYyeg5K023Z_omUMlqM/s1200/DSC_5872.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="800" data-original-width="1200" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgexxOAJ7ekqhNUt3Ku7tWaeP0lkMUblpA3a0qHBwkV2FkL9zGAmDlL30rxvR4FF8R9tKIgj-WpdYPx1_J-4YqoHH47d4z_6w92VyWJ-xgmMjakYdmR61GlnJqJqYyeg5K023Z_omUMlqM/w400-h266/DSC_5872.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Another pleasing night shot<br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjR2yOCeOJpb1txoLgXgKHjv2L3YIn4CRmiYUqCZUsmJd2Y0P3HhE3IXih0R-TwPp3kAFrPto2yjyMNOVcIOlfH344_f5ujvVpg61fN5TdvhiOVyYqTuEjG4pK1ovVovLAn6ISwjHCm24w/s1000/DSC_5873.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="667" data-original-width="1000" height="268" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjR2yOCeOJpb1txoLgXgKHjv2L3YIn4CRmiYUqCZUsmJd2Y0P3HhE3IXih0R-TwPp3kAFrPto2yjyMNOVcIOlfH344_f5ujvVpg61fN5TdvhiOVyYqTuEjG4pK1ovVovLAn6ISwjHCm24w/w400-h268/DSC_5873.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sundowner at Fish River Canyon<br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">We spent two full days
running errands in Windhoek, getting Stanley looked at (it was probably the low
engine oil that caused our failure in Otjiwa, according to the garage; they patched
the leaking differential, replaced the air conditioner’s pulley and belt and
replaced some blown fuses), doing one last big grocery shop, getting new
puncture-proof inner tubes for our folding bicycles, getting Stanley washed and
(most importantly) getting all our paperwork in order for re-exporting Stanley
to South Africa. On June 20<sup>th</sup> we headed into Windhoek to get the
all-important export document from a customs clearing agent (a simple process
that somehow took two hours), then ran some more administrative errands before
heading south and getting as far as Marental and the delightful Bastion Farm
campsite.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_4mJaXMkbhORWOdlarn-EvYVBtkoof9q4Ph0Diiea4JtRaUiXGfQftfRk7iGcQpILZGYeT8T-_u5e0R1dgHWcj8IMg6XF3SX92qN4yUCJwJ9Hg62Gyt9TKOOVOPHNfnkFnbBrYzdycUM/s1000/DSC_5879.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="667" data-original-width="1000" height="268" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_4mJaXMkbhORWOdlarn-EvYVBtkoof9q4Ph0Diiea4JtRaUiXGfQftfRk7iGcQpILZGYeT8T-_u5e0R1dgHWcj8IMg6XF3SX92qN4yUCJwJ9Hg62Gyt9TKOOVOPHNfnkFnbBrYzdycUM/w400-h268/DSC_5879.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Fish River Canyon<br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">The next day we headed
south to the Fish River Canyon, one of the must-see sights of southern Namibia.
It was a long drive on gravel roads, but at least the roads had been recently
graded and we could zip along pleasantly. We stopped at the Fish River Canyon
viewpoint for sundowner drinks, then set up camp in the nearby Hobas Rest Camp,
where the night sky was especially spectacular, making for good
astrophotography.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">We had long talked about
doing the 4-day Fish River Canyon hike, but it proved to be a bit of a bureaucratic
mission to set it up, and so we gave up on the idea and contented ourselves
with another view of the canyon the next morning and a long walk to Hiker’s
Point along the crater rim. It’s a lot like a slightly smaller, greyer version
of the Grand Canyon, and is pleasant, if not mind-blowing. I took lots of
photos, but had problems really capturing the scale of the landscape. I had
more luck with the tiny wildflowers beside the trail. We eventually set off
across a very corrugated road before regaining the asphalt of the main highway
as it cropped down to the South African border. The border crossing was
surprisingly easy, even with the added step of getting our re-export paperwork
stamped in triplicate, and soon enough we were on the South African bank of the
Orange River, searching desperately for accommodation; unbeknownst to us, it
was school holidays, and every campsite seemed full. Finally, with light
failing, we found the Growcery Camp and set ourselves up in a grassy field
overlooking the river before grilling rib-eye steaks for dinner.<o:p></o:p></span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOaBJYLUd5OpJ5xrG6s_E_hiUpu-iMtoH8jSQZyEbP6woUFSJR1HH9By5geTxBlPSpDIQRukvT3uX_AGfpRURBbsb0qbWHJsLrulgcfSNogE2CmMNg1LHEHYf12ezqiA8fXqlLL7Jsjs4/s1000/DSC_5916.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="667" data-original-width="1000" height="268" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOaBJYLUd5OpJ5xrG6s_E_hiUpu-iMtoH8jSQZyEbP6woUFSJR1HH9By5geTxBlPSpDIQRukvT3uX_AGfpRURBbsb0qbWHJsLrulgcfSNogE2CmMNg1LHEHYf12ezqiA8fXqlLL7Jsjs4/w400-h268/DSC_5916.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Looking pleased with ourselves at Fish River Canyon<br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">We were lucky to stumble
upon the Growcery, as it was a very pleasant place to while away a few days. June
23<sup>rd</sup> was Terri’s birthday, and I spent the day pampering her, with a
poached-egg breakfast, chocolate birthday cake which I baked myself, a
cheese-and-charcuterie apero with bubbly wine, and then salmon steak for
dinner. It was a wonderful day, and Terri was very pleased with the amount of
planning I had put into the day.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">The next two days passed
pleasantly enough, watching the river flow past, editing photos, writing blog
posts, reading, juggling, doing yoga, running and taking our bicycles out for a
spin in the rather desolate Richtersveld desert that surrounded the camp. Terri
had a long chat with the folks running the campsite and was impressed by their
organic produce and microgreen production (the Grow part of their name). It was
the end of our trip, and already we were nostalgic for the wide-open unpeopled
spaces of Damaraland.<o:p></o:p></span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzHdeRW314MlGgNzs9CJo-1HqQSqTiDm96_liDpUBkR2ajiWA2UE3c3jE8Mvc8OtmKDyMcFVDjfS4ofM5O-gxk9Kyg9hdbISotVD2vJ31yhhpCGASl54ogHpquJbpzoetZDVr_x8514Kg/s1000/DSC_6000.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="667" data-original-width="1000" height="268" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzHdeRW314MlGgNzs9CJo-1HqQSqTiDm96_liDpUBkR2ajiWA2UE3c3jE8Mvc8OtmKDyMcFVDjfS4ofM5O-gxk9Kyg9hdbISotVD2vJ31yhhpCGASl54ogHpquJbpzoetZDVr_x8514Kg/w400-h268/DSC_6000.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Exploring the Richtersveld on our folding bikes<br /><br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5sStxwn0xwt6u5Qu9-AFvMdFVnE8Zt08wtsJlJEdUg6nRvVZJLGB8JEf0WYce3BTmS__FIunEqs_lWL0MwSRkgNw9iqhLyQcfOKOsy19COnm5EQ0x_-TukDwng-A-9g5Se00hTflUN5M/s1000/DSC_5966.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="667" data-original-width="1000" height="268" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5sStxwn0xwt6u5Qu9-AFvMdFVnE8Zt08wtsJlJEdUg6nRvVZJLGB8JEf0WYce3BTmS__FIunEqs_lWL0MwSRkgNw9iqhLyQcfOKOsy19COnm5EQ0x_-TukDwng-A-9g5Se00hTflUN5M/w400-h268/DSC_5966.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Terri's birthday beside the Orange River</td></tr></tbody></table><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">It took two days to drive
to Stellenbosch. On the first day we bumped out to the road and into the tiny “town”
of Vioolsdrift, then south on tarmac to Springbok and a well-stocked Superspar
supermarket. We kept heading south through increasing vegetation and fairly low
altitudes into the wine country along the Olifants River near Trawal. We slept
at Highlanders Campsite where we lucked into a wind tasting being put on for a
tour group who were also staying in the campsite. We braaied sosaties and went
to sleep for our last night on the road and our last night sleeping in Stanley
for 2018.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaX2_gVK9OfBIxOWx5Dlqh0xiSehcNQtY_07X1v82_O08Pnnsx4pRdLbmZ-Xb5yb3n34ZP-BUtomaTXFYX28kMl59V8Vm8DIgMgk6XxkYqdqNwmaQs3MEdRFBDC4sOfuZbJ1_z1GgfCA8/s1000/DSC_5941.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="667" data-original-width="1000" height="268" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaX2_gVK9OfBIxOWx5Dlqh0xiSehcNQtY_07X1v82_O08Pnnsx4pRdLbmZ-Xb5yb3n34ZP-BUtomaTXFYX28kMl59V8Vm8DIgMgk6XxkYqdqNwmaQs3MEdRFBDC4sOfuZbJ1_z1GgfCA8/w400-h268/DSC_5941.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Desert foliage in the Richtersveld<br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">The drive into Cape Town
was long, grey and rainy. It was the rainy season in Cape Town, and it made us
nervous whether we would be able to put Stanley away in storage perfectly dry so
that nothing would mould. We weren’t sure exactly where we were going to store
Stanley, and in the town of Malmesbury we checked out one storage place that
was too pricey for us at ZAR 1000/month. We also stopped into an auto
electrician to fix two pesky short circuits that had shown up with the rain and
which had killed our dash lights, cigarette lighter per point and exhaust gas
temperature sensor. They found and fixed everything quite quickly and we kept
driving into the built-up area around Cape Town, ending up at last at the
chaotic but friendly confines of <a href="https://www.africanoverlanders.com/" target="_blank">African Overlanders near Stellenbosch</a>, where
we splurged on indoor accommodation in a cozy circular rondavel with a thatched
roof. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"> </span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYEWB2YmKh1e7bcy44Hs13jRMrFCMB3MXPBb3zTz0nVpGP5sFD5psUh5REuMJEoMBZ-sLSzth11YTfuWgfKZFyoVqzn9onmzxB0VALUp139YSMdqtLAyMoY3hCausMc31Xgkon5Yo7xNM/s999/DSC_6033.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="665" data-original-width="999" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYEWB2YmKh1e7bcy44Hs13jRMrFCMB3MXPBb3zTz0nVpGP5sFD5psUh5REuMJEoMBZ-sLSzth11YTfuWgfKZFyoVqzn9onmzxB0VALUp139YSMdqtLAyMoY3hCausMc31Xgkon5Yo7xNM/w640-h426/DSC_6033.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Another dramatic moon<br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 107%;">The
End<o:p></o:p></span></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"> </span></p>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgapXIVFqevu6n35OrIxXFh6zSKfufRsl77MoloF_vVo2e2tno7xuVsp9CNLOWz3UPocKJPcD6Z8Mw0A2iqlhl98M32Wf6wV8B_U0mIuoeSXqBBHVDAbyTPZz8WLuOXA8Ei3FGjV2bdR3Y/s999/DSC_6014.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="668" data-original-width="999" height="268" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgapXIVFqevu6n35OrIxXFh6zSKfufRsl77MoloF_vVo2e2tno7xuVsp9CNLOWz3UPocKJPcD6Z8Mw0A2iqlhl98M32Wf6wV8B_U0mIuoeSXqBBHVDAbyTPZz8WLuOXA8Ei3FGjV2bdR3Y/w400-h268/DSC_6014.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I wish I knew more about southern African botany!</td></tr></tbody></table><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">And that, more or less,
was that for the trip. We spent a couple of days sweeping, washing and drying
out everything in Stanley, getting him ready for a couple of years in storage.
We mailed off our precious re-export papers to Namibia to start the process of
getting our money back. We did our best to put Stanley away dry, but it was
pouring rain much of the time, and we knew how Stanley wasn’t 100% waterproof
in all of his corners. It was a bit sad to put Stanley into storage again after
such a superlative trip, but we were sure that we would be back in two years’
time to start our long-delayed circuit of the continent.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">All too soon Duncan, the owner of African Overlanders, was driving us to Cape Town airport
and we were climbing aboard the first leg of a Cape
Town-Johannesburg-Doha-Denpasar journey back to Indonesia, where I would
collect my belongings and head on to Canada a few days later before starting
work in Tbilisi.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3R3KZWlaCKJ0pE8EmhA0lRj85-PnXJbrFJSeC54fny-6ibnpEDBNwf61KgB7e0tc5Hx3WXNVCu72WOgVnJsd1UI1x0ZLVnMpyNmRXVjCO9a0Yeiro1LYSZsmh0n6J-CQ25Tj9qaX9cn4/s1200/DSC_5062.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="800" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3R3KZWlaCKJ0pE8EmhA0lRj85-PnXJbrFJSeC54fny-6ibnpEDBNwf61KgB7e0tc5Hx3WXNVCu72WOgVnJsd1UI1x0ZLVnMpyNmRXVjCO9a0Yeiro1LYSZsmh0n6J-CQ25Tj9qaX9cn4/w426-h640/DSC_5062.jpg" width="426" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Dancing for joy in the desert<br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><div></div><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">It was an amazing trip.
In the thirty-plus years that I’ve spent travelling pretty widely around the
world, Namibia ranks up there in my Top 5 list of transformative destinations.
(The other 4 entries are Kyrgyzstan, Syria, Georgia and Australia, with New
Zealand rating an honourable mention.) Having our own wheels in the form of a
fully kitted-out 4x4 offroad camper opened up so many possibilities for us, and
we got the maximum possible use out of all our equipment. Being able to camp
wild in so many places, completely alone under the African sky, surrounded by
birds, wildlife and the southern stars, warmed by roaring mopane-wood fires,
was the apex of the African overlanding experience. Although the wildlife of
Etosha was great, we found that we preferred the more discreet charms of birds,
occasional giraffes, ostriches and springbok in the sparse grasslands of the
Kaokoveld. Having our own water tanks, a well-stocked Engels freezer and roof-top
solar panels meant that we could live off the grid for days at a time,
exploring remote canyons and really absorbing the almost mystical solitude of
Damaraland and Kaokoland. As we thought ahead to our planned circuit of the
African continent, it seemed as though none of that trip would be able to
compare to the perfection of our Namibian adventures.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhs56KLyebiHRfoJSg9W-380t_yL_SsgD2dDhmLOzrEu0OJ0Ronmjiw5nt2McfpR56ofQwhhNObcUDGiDJjIh3Yto-Z-u9ZO7tq1O2XJIhQObxPUhkszwLLOFl8wX4mGWokh3sjIj7bCLs/s1000/DSC_5931.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="667" data-original-width="1000" height="268" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhs56KLyebiHRfoJSg9W-380t_yL_SsgD2dDhmLOzrEu0OJ0Ronmjiw5nt2McfpR56ofQwhhNObcUDGiDJjIh3Yto-Z-u9ZO7tq1O2XJIhQObxPUhkszwLLOFl8wX4mGWokh3sjIj7bCLs/w400-h268/DSC_5931.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Neat flower and beetle</td></tr></tbody></table><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">As it turned out, we
haven’t made it back to Stellenbosch yet to pick up Stanley and resume our
peregrinations, thanks to the coronavirus pandemic. We are moderately hopeful
that we will be able to do so in 2022, although with border closures due to
disease, war and unrest, at the moment there are no feasible land routes from
South Africa to Europe along either the west or east coasts, so we may have to
modify our plans. As for getting our money back from Namibian Customs, it took almost
18 months, with the Trans Kalahari Inn and another of the overlanders caught up
in the mess working tirelessly to break down the indifference, bureaucratic
sloth and cupidity of the higher-ups of the Namibian Customs Service. It was a
relief finally to get the money paid back to us, and a lesson always to check
the fine print whenever there’s a border, customs and a vehicle involved, no
matter where you are in the world.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">So now, as I sit gazing
out at the Bali Sea, wondering when travel will be possible again, it brings me
great pleasure to think back on what might have been the finest month and a
half of Stanley’s Travels so far. If you’ve gotten this far through this post,
congratulations. And if you ever get the chance to explore Namibia in a 4x4
camper, please don’t hesitate: it is a country of complete magic.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"></span></p><div><div style="text-align: justify;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUaTGOfnVVt85bYjI-CaCRgME5KIev2qdpO0AlawhSo2ZJho7E4mpePPoXbuqY1oSS3BBnhdwAozp8AFbdU6buATGRLPleRFncH1tB2A9RCAaG4nPN7vgnRqc1YvdS_ULDqZ6trTY9KQU/s1200/DSC_5811.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="800" data-original-width="1200" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUaTGOfnVVt85bYjI-CaCRgME5KIev2qdpO0AlawhSo2ZJho7E4mpePPoXbuqY1oSS3BBnhdwAozp8AFbdU6buATGRLPleRFncH1tB2A9RCAaG4nPN7vgnRqc1YvdS_ULDqZ6trTY9KQU/w640-h426/DSC_5811.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A coppery sunset and heron, Lead Wood Campsite<br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table></div></div></div></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-635211973012255844.post-16764815945572567522021-03-09T06:55:00.002-08:002022-08-16T05:59:03.768-07:00The University of the Open Road<!--Google tag (gtag.js)-->
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<p> I recently found an article I first wrote in 2003 for the Lakehead University student newspaper, The Argus, and then touched up again in 2007. It's a manifesto for why I travel so obsessively, and I think it still holds true. In these days when travel has become so difficult, it's important to think about why we miss something that is so important to so many people. Hope you enjoy it!</p><p><br /></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi15Ph7tiOxXkYRBbJ23XnmMH_RfWs8Y5i9peRQwommYkia5n-njDib3azMmwn7DaLW3IpvKT3aiRGuZhVOQyEYMY9zRZ4jkJ7TvXsXyAUj9HXYH6_gdW2TBaBidfxwB-6SnjY2ughoJiA/s960/DSC_95282012.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="643" data-original-width="960" height="429" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi15Ph7tiOxXkYRBbJ23XnmMH_RfWs8Y5i9peRQwommYkia5n-njDib3azMmwn7DaLW3IpvKT3aiRGuZhVOQyEYMY9zRZ4jkJ7TvXsXyAUj9HXYH6_gdW2TBaBidfxwB-6SnjY2ughoJiA/w640-h429/DSC_95282012.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Contemplating eternity on the shores of Tso Moriri, Ladakh</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p></p><p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><b><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Tahoma; mso-bidi-language: #00FF;">The
University of the Open Road<o:p></o:p></span></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 1.0cm; margin-right: 1.0cm; margin-top: 0cm; text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-family: Tahoma; mso-bidi-language: #00FF;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“<i>Three kinds of men die poor.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Those who divorce, those who incur debts and
those who move around too much.”<o:p></o:p></i></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 1.0cm; margin-right: 1.0cm; margin-top: 0cm; text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-family: Tahoma; mso-bidi-language: #00FF;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Senegalese proverb<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 1.0cm; margin-right: 1.0cm; margin-top: 0cm; text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-family: Tahoma; mso-bidi-language: #00FF;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 1.0cm; margin-right: 1.0cm; margin-top: 0cm; text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-family: Tahoma; mso-bidi-language: #00FF;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“<i>Not travelling is like living in the
Library of Congress but never taking out more than one or two books.”<o:p></o:p></i></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 1.0cm; margin-right: 1.0cm; margin-top: 0cm; text-align: justify;"><i><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-family: Tahoma; mso-bidi-language: #00FF;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span></span></i><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-family: Tahoma; mso-bidi-language: #00FF;">Marilyn Vos Savant</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 1.0cm;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-family: Tahoma; mso-bidi-language: #00FF;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>I have led a fortunate existence
so far.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Much of it has been spent
wandering the more remote corners of the globe with my backpack, or on an
overloaded touring bicycle, seeing for myself the human and natural diversity
of the world.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When not travelling, I
have worked at a succession of meaningless jobs in various countries, saving
money for the next<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>travel fix.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There are people, my father among them, who
wonder what I get from such an itinerant, nomadic lifestyle, and why I spent so
much time obtaining science degrees which I seem destined never to use
professionally.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I do occasionally think
about the question myself, and it occurs to me that I am pursuing higher
education at the University of the Open Road.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>It is a liberal arts college, stressing breadth of learning across any
numbers of disciplines.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The syllabus is
as follows.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 1.0cm;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-family: Tahoma; mso-bidi-language: #00FF;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;"><b><u><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-family: Tahoma; mso-bidi-language: #00FF;">History<o:p></o:p></span></u></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-family: Tahoma; mso-bidi-language: #00FF;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> <table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSCm5_kuDg3n4nLs3gh86_qtYySQVreT1lv-UYdDXbDRJJ3uBclc2fNm8bQU-BMclnqfvujRZDkMzlGtersJwlm57iw7fWHZaB8KwDppmSqyxVDsAqT6Ql1OPvfukcnfYSCZ6nlPSI1MQ/s2048/Palmera+Skyline.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1393" data-original-width="2048" height="272" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSCm5_kuDg3n4nLs3gh86_qtYySQVreT1lv-UYdDXbDRJJ3uBclc2fNm8bQU-BMclnqfvujRZDkMzlGtersJwlm57iw7fWHZaB8KwDppmSqyxVDsAqT6Ql1OPvfukcnfYSCZ6nlPSI1MQ/w400-h272/Palmera+Skyline.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Palmyra, Syria (in its pre-ISIS days)</td></tr></tbody></table><br /></span>For a history aficionado like
myself, travel has offered a plethora of pleasures.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>From the dawn of hominid history at Olduvai
Gorge, past the cave paintings of Lascaux to the rock art of the Central Asian
mountains, I have seen prehistory come and go.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I have camped amidst the gold-filled burial mounds of Scythian kings in
Kyrgyzstan and in the shadow of the tumulus of China's greatest emperor Han
Wu-di.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I have picnicked on the Great
Wall of China and recited the words of Ozymandias amidst the melancholy rubble
of the Ramesseum.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The endless sweep of
ruined cities in the Middle East—Petra's splendid facades, Baalbek's bombastic
scale, the perfectly preserved theatre of Bosra, Palmyra's vast extent set
alight by the sunset, the Roman cities around Aleppo which now house shepherd
families, the mountain fastness of Termessos—have taught me more about ancient
history than any<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>course ever could.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I have savoured sunrises and sunsets over
ruins from Macchu Picchu through melancholy Merv and marvellous Mandu to
sublime Angkor.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Retracing the Silk Road
on bicycle has impressed on me the magnitude of the accomplishments of great
travellers and traders like Marco Polo, Ibn Battuta and my hero Xuan Zang, the
intrepid seventh-century Chinese Buddhist monk.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-family: Tahoma; mso-bidi-language: #00FF;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Despite my pacifist leanings,
battlefields have exerted a strange fascination on me, perhaps because, except
for the accident of being born when and where I was, my bones might now be
lying there among so many others.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Xanthos, where the men killed their women and children and burned their
city before marching out to certain death in battle not once but TWICE (against
the Persians and then the Romans) brought tears to my eyes for its fanatic,
futile heroism, as did Masada.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The
Crusader and Assassin castles of the Levant, with their air of bygone bloodshed
and treachery, exuded sinister charm.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>More modern battlefields, from Waterloo to Ypres, Verdun and Gallipoli,
along with the killing fields of Cambodia, Auschwitz and Dachau, filled me with
revulsion at the industrial killing machines that have benighted recent
history..<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-family: Tahoma; mso-bidi-language: #00FF;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;"><b><u><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-family: Tahoma; mso-bidi-language: #00FF;">Geography<o:p></o:p></span></u></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-family: Tahoma; mso-bidi-language: #00FF;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> <table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSSCE0bvBcncUf8c3ryYvs21q2e_0-w8pTLieY11CiE1pqWhO6MO6op54-3s1o25v_NxXDsRuvDM7bih8OM_7jt8p5MqIY83XZnozOUc6j_UsDEfijtDDpH1RjZRqOyHgPfofng-KhqqQ/s2048/K2+Sunrise.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1385" data-original-width="2048" height="270" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSSCE0bvBcncUf8c3ryYvs21q2e_0-w8pTLieY11CiE1pqWhO6MO6op54-3s1o25v_NxXDsRuvDM7bih8OM_7jt8p5MqIY83XZnozOUc6j_UsDEfijtDDpH1RjZRqOyHgPfofng-KhqqQ/w400-h270/K2+Sunrise.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">K2 at dawn, seen from the Concordia Glacier, Pakistan</td></tr></tbody></table><br /></span>All those childhood mornings staring
up at the world map on my bedroom wall, wondering what sort of places those
far-off romantic-sounding names—Bolivia, Patagonia, Tibet, Borneo,
Everest—denoted have been rewarded over the years.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Our planet's incredible variety of landscapes
never fails to delight me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Mountains
have always had pride of place in my heart, the high ranges of the Himalayas
and Central Asia chief among them.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Panting breathless on lookout points below Everest, K2, Nanga Parbat and
Annapurna, admiring the superb vertical, glacially polished rock, is an
experience I can never get enough of.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Other, lower, peaks such as Aconcagua, Kilimanjaro, Mt. Kenya, Semeru
and Fuji have provided an opportunity to measure myself against them on foot.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-family: Tahoma; mso-bidi-language: #00FF;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Of course there is more to the world
than just mountains.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Drifting down the
Nile in a felucca, crossing the gorges of the Yangtze and Mekong in Yunnan
province, following the infant Oxus through the Pamirs, swimming in the Indus
or cycling past castles along the Rhine, rivers have been another collectible
in my peregrinations.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I have brought
rain to the driest deserts on earth—the Atacama, the Taklamakan, the Sahara,
the Australian—leading to speculation that I should hire myself out as a rain
god to drought-stricken areas in Africa.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Forests, from Japan to Chile to Nepal to Malaysia, all too often being
felled in unsustainable quantities to make way for farms and ranches, have
provided an glimpse into the endless struggle between competing species of
plants and animals.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And glaciers, those
epic rivers of ice, have provided many a photogenic moment of deepest blue and
sheerest white from Argentina to Pakistan.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;"><b><u><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-family: Tahoma; mso-bidi-language: #00FF;"><o:p><span style="text-decoration: none;"> </span></o:p></span></u></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;"><b><u><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-family: Tahoma; mso-bidi-language: #00FF;">Physical
Education<o:p></o:p></span></u></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-family: Tahoma; mso-bidi-language: #00FF;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> <table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi22NQSyp1fsYlTXsR8IxcQPHPgKuqqlaUdaB-cmbi-I0xol2GV7kHT0SRd5ADOgyRRuBvY2Q_pm3DRMIXJ99OL5iRPHqJng6haIHHVrDjILEzRf3JBsxu44VHKSq_gJ58HtS9poZuoSq4/s2048/Khunjerab+Top.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1396" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi22NQSyp1fsYlTXsR8IxcQPHPgKuqqlaUdaB-cmbi-I0xol2GV7kHT0SRd5ADOgyRRuBvY2Q_pm3DRMIXJ99OL5iRPHqJng6haIHHVrDjILEzRf3JBsxu44VHKSq_gJ58HtS9poZuoSq4/w273-h400/Khunjerab+Top.jpg" width="273" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Cycling into China from Pakistan, 1998</td></tr></tbody></table><br /></span>I came back from my first long
backpacking trip unhappy at how soft and sedentary I had become in eight
months.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was then I vowed to
incorporate exercise into my wanderings, and haven't looked back since.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Long bicycle tours have become my favourite
means of seeing the world, and I have logged over 35,000 kilometres over the
years on three continents.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When I'm not
in the saddle, I like nothing better than taking to my heels in the hills,
hiking my way through remote mountainous areas.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>European cities are another perfect venue for walking, searching for
architectural gems and scenic backstreets.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Even when I'm travelling by public transport, just lugging my bulging
backpack in search of a hotel provides a full-body workout.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-family: Tahoma; mso-bidi-language: #00FF;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;"><b><u><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-family: Tahoma; mso-bidi-language: #00FF;">Architecture<o:p></o:p></span></u></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-family: Tahoma; mso-bidi-language: #00FF;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> <table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7pk7wiTTdMGy5MU0yMir_gsu8t-SNbObCkJC0Gss4Z2EaHLLE22BQTpdjgo4yIGW9vMcD7M4W5WzH16x3j195in0znYkQuRcOt53myW21TlwysBQd9_1K747YfhajbRT7ELu7HNtZkEI/s1936/DSC_1711.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1936" data-original-width="1296" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7pk7wiTTdMGy5MU0yMir_gsu8t-SNbObCkJC0Gss4Z2EaHLLE22BQTpdjgo4yIGW9vMcD7M4W5WzH16x3j195in0znYkQuRcOt53myW21TlwysBQd9_1K747YfhajbRT7ELu7HNtZkEI/w268-h400/DSC_1711.JPG" width="268" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sheikh Lotfollah Mosque, Isfahan, Iran</td></tr></tbody></table><br /></span>Seeing great buildings in flesh is
the only way to appreciate them fully.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Europe provides some of the great cityscapes of the world:<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>the Gothic spires of Prague, the Renaissance
elegance of Siena and San Gemignano, the gingerbread facades of old
Amsterdam.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Chefchaouen, Morocco is a
cubist vision of dazzling blue- and white-washed adobe.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Arequipa, Peru boasts some of the most
distinctive Spanish colonial buildings in the New World, stately edifices cut
from the local gleaming white <i>sillar</i> stone.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>India contributes the elegance of Rajasthani <i>haveli</i>
mansions, the exuberance of Khajuraho's erotic Hindu temples and the austere
Mughal grandeur of the peerless Taj Mahal.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Perhaps my favourite, though, are the blue-tiled Central Asian Islamic
masterpieces of Samarkand and Bukhara, the legacy of beauty created under the
patronage of the bloodthirsty destroyer Timur.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-family: Tahoma; mso-bidi-language: #00FF;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;"><b><u><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-family: Tahoma; mso-bidi-language: #00FF;">Linguistics<o:p></o:p></span></u></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-family: Tahoma; mso-bidi-language: #00FF;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> <table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVXFVg_kIlQLEovoEOhLHQhvmhO2tzavFSU4fcgAcNGIl3K10BsvKtd8NhqU14aY9dVUBRqonGxw_fBwBCdyUujvd4CDuw_Xtped2k96elNM5670FCkq68uZMsCqPffUTFuvHfHHhQ44g/s640/DSC_40992009.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="428" data-original-width="640" height="268" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVXFVg_kIlQLEovoEOhLHQhvmhO2tzavFSU4fcgAcNGIl3K10BsvKtd8NhqU14aY9dVUBRqonGxw_fBwBCdyUujvd4CDuw_Xtped2k96elNM5670FCkq68uZMsCqPffUTFuvHfHHhQ44g/w400-h268/DSC_40992009.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Syriac script, southeastern Turkey</td></tr></tbody></table><br /></span>Nothing quite matches the thrill of
communicating successfully in a new language.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>The first purchase in a shop, the first directions to the train station,
the first telephone call, are all significant milestones. I can say “hello”,
“thank you”, “where is”, “how much does this cost?” and “that's too expensive!”
in any number of languages from Thai to Farsi.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Travelling has also allowed me to use the languages I did study in high
school and university, French and Russian, to work in real-life situations.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Having wine-fueled ethical debates in French
during the Burgundy grape harvest or discussing in Russian the intricacies of
Kyrgyz corruption in a warm yurt in the Tien Shan mountains added another
dimension to my superficial tourist's impression of those countries.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Learning to decipher new scripts, from the
elegant calligraphy of Arabic to the rounded runes of Thai, the modernistic
angles of Korean and the maddening pictographs of Japanese, gives the
satisfying feeling of being another Champollion, unlocking the hieroglyphic
secrets of a long-lost writing system.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>The triumph of puzzling out my first bus destination in Arabic in
Morocco remains vivid in my memory.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-family: Tahoma; mso-bidi-language: #00FF;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;"><b><u><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-family: Tahoma; mso-bidi-language: #00FF;">Biology<o:p></o:p></span></u></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-family: Tahoma; mso-bidi-language: #00FF;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> <table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjH2aMCKrwVGLgHeIkONs7KFBhrJ0IPkeAEaYzc0pYQs6PvM2FCEiM3NJGbcheNqYZHuiiH7DQVF0onteNvEu9KESNz05TAzjU3mO8YXgDD_am1HQ3uO6sH8yyRIpv76kMuIR65U1yNPFg/s1000/DSC_7092.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="669" data-original-width="1000" height="268" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjH2aMCKrwVGLgHeIkONs7KFBhrJ0IPkeAEaYzc0pYQs6PvM2FCEiM3NJGbcheNqYZHuiiH7DQVF0onteNvEu9KESNz05TAzjU3mO8YXgDD_am1HQ3uO6sH8yyRIpv76kMuIR65U1yNPFg/w400-h268/DSC_7092.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Young leopard in the Khwai River Conservancy, Botswana</td></tr></tbody></table><br /></span>I never had much time for biology
when I was a student.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It all seemed too
vague and imprecise compared to math and physics.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>However, visiting the Serengeti Plains and
seeing a million wildebeest and zebras migrating past, I regretted not having
chosen zoology as my university major.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Coming face to face with mountain gorillas in Congo, wild chimpanzees in
Uganda or orangutans in Indonesia makes you keenly aware of how little
biological difference there is between all of us primates.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Exploring the kaleidoscopic seascape of coral
reefs is possibly the most breathtaking experience available to earth-bound
humans.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Hiking through a tropical
rainforest is eerie, hearing a universe of birds, animals and insects but
rarely being able to see them through the perpetual liana-enshrouded
gloom.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Even birdwatching, an esoteric
pursuit whose appeal I never could see when I was young, has forced itself on
me after seeing so many colourful, exotic birds crossing my path while cycling
and hiking.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A pocket bird guide and
small binoculars are now a permanent fixture in my luggage.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-family: Tahoma; mso-bidi-language: #00FF;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;"><b><u><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-family: Tahoma; mso-bidi-language: #00FF;">Anthropology<o:p></o:p></span></u></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-family: Tahoma; mso-bidi-language: #00FF;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> <table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4wcDHHMHLUu3iQ1_9TKN6-_loGj3NEhNSlTboSYxnFaR56eg2c0UgMSreOUjEDTdfCXXxfSdpnOnXOa1DcGoGGsJ-OsaCeKstp3_P-LpRxLUXjFi6VclTZm7jVIzxkXB1vavYELlti84/s1000/Kalash+kids--improved.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="668" data-original-width="1000" height="268" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4wcDHHMHLUu3iQ1_9TKN6-_loGj3NEhNSlTboSYxnFaR56eg2c0UgMSreOUjEDTdfCXXxfSdpnOnXOa1DcGoGGsJ-OsaCeKstp3_P-LpRxLUXjFi6VclTZm7jVIzxkXB1vavYELlti84/w400-h268/Kalash+kids--improved.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Kalash children in the Birir Valley, Pakistan</td></tr></tbody></table><br /></span>I am no Margaret Mead, but no-one can
spend time far from home without indulging in doubtlessly simplistic
observations of the people and cultures around them.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The strict code of hospitality in Central
Asia, from Kazakhstan to Iran, made me feel ashamed of my own culture's<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>relatively unwelcoming air to strangers.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was constantly invited into houses, yurts
and shacks for meals or to stay the night, with the poorest people often being
the most welcoming.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Mountain peoples
such as Tibetans, Ladakhis, Aymaras, Kyrgyz, Sherpas and Berbers impressed me
by the sheer physical toughness required to survive in such harsh
environments.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>India seemed chaos
incarnate, and yet somehow the country worked:<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>trains ran, tea was prepared, shops did a roaring trade.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Living in South America, the essential cheerfulness
of the culture brightened my spirits on even the gloomiest days.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And I knew it was time to leave Japan when
one of my students explained that he didn't use most of his vacation days
because “I wouldn't know what to do with all that free time!”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-family: Tahoma; mso-bidi-language: #00FF;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-family: Tahoma; mso-bidi-language: #00FF;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;"><b><u><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-family: Tahoma; mso-bidi-language: #00FF;">Economics<o:p></o:p></span></u></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-family: Tahoma; mso-bidi-language: #00FF;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> <table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDOsIDiHakpXp8RfapgrTK2Idww1EggZvIREEUfHkhxcVy2EcUi62w8_W_HVqslo2xQdPMlvU5i0FP827FrTSWCIYbwExMuxljP4s3vgRjbH0wVuiLF_igKYYXTbju3qlHy5gjnU9l1uM/s1936/DSC_9543.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1936" data-original-width="1296" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDOsIDiHakpXp8RfapgrTK2Idww1EggZvIREEUfHkhxcVy2EcUi62w8_W_HVqslo2xQdPMlvU5i0FP827FrTSWCIYbwExMuxljP4s3vgRjbH0wVuiLF_igKYYXTbju3qlHy5gjnU9l1uM/w268-h400/DSC_9543.JPG" width="268" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Moneychanger, Hargeisa, Somaliland</td></tr></tbody></table><br /></span>Earning money in countries like
Canada, Switzerland and Japan, I can travel well, cheaply and at great length
in much of Asia and Africa.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The abstract
principles governing exchange rates dictate that the prices of food, transport
and lodging, expressed in dollars, differ wildly, from the hideously expensive
(Tokyo, London, Switzerland, Germany) to the laughably cheap (India, Nepal,
China, Egypt), with all shades inbetween.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>A month in Tajikistan cost me less than $100, and much of that occurred
on one night of expensive hotel and food.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>In fact, I would have gladly paid more, if there had been more to eat in
the poverty-blighted pockets along the Afghan border.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Comparing salaries and prices between much of
the developing world and the first world, one of the most common topics of
conversation with local people, shows the obvious economic incentives driving
so much migration to the rich West.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>There seems little justice or logic in a teacher earning a hundred times
as much in Japan as in Uzbekistan, far more than the difference in purchasing
power can account for.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It's easy to see
what fuels the pervasive petty corruption that merely annoys the tourist but
oppresses the local villager in the Indian subcontinent, Africa and the
ex-Soviet Union.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-family: Tahoma; mso-bidi-language: #00FF;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;"><b><u><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-family: Tahoma; mso-bidi-language: #00FF;">Law<o:p></o:p></span></u></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-family: Tahoma; mso-bidi-language: #00FF;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Being arrested in a foreign country
focuses one's attention on the arbitrary nature of laws.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In China and Tibet travel restrictions, often
obscure and unpublished, beset the individual traveller, and falling afoul of
them can result in fines and being sent back to one's starting point, or, an
even worse fate, being confined overnight in a grubby hotel room with five
chain-smoking Tibetan cobblers addicted to loud television.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Ex-Soviet states offer a taste of venality,
with policemen, border guards and customs officials inventing regulations and
law on the spot.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A request for $20
parking fine for my bicycle in Dushanbe left me giddy with laughter as I rode
off at high speed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A two-hour attempted
shakedown by a drunken off-duty border guard in southern Tajikistan ended in
victory for my patient obstructionism against his aggressive bluster.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-family: Tahoma; mso-bidi-language: #00FF;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Sometimes I have found myself the
victim of crime rather than the supposed perpetrator.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Pickpockets in Nice, Istanbul and Indonesia
could have lived well for a few weeks off their takings from me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>An Aussie con artist laughed his way south to
Sydney in my old Holden car which he had taken for a test drive, leaving me
with a walletful of worthless collateral.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>However, when a professor of mine asked me after a slide show whether I
ever felt afraid of crime in remote corners of the world, I could truthfully
answer that I worried more about it in North America, a point borne out when
two audience members emerged to find their bicycles had been stolen.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-family: Tahoma; mso-bidi-language: #00FF;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;"><b><u><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-family: Tahoma; mso-bidi-language: #00FF;">Religious
Studies<o:p></o:p></span></u></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-family: Tahoma; mso-bidi-language: #00FF;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> <table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgGISL5BQd4aOcUlZhzmdsWgI7PFdr1WMKT4hEMCeNsBZjB2ES29p6XFUXOCbp90ZYEL8HF0Tf50OZkBQM30iextbETs8XK_DuGQc_I6mgGB63ICZ3fpmK0fo6Adab7QX1Dm4yPGBupTA/s1000/Scan+98+T24.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="656" data-original-width="1000" height="263" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgGISL5BQd4aOcUlZhzmdsWgI7PFdr1WMKT4hEMCeNsBZjB2ES29p6XFUXOCbp90ZYEL8HF0Tf50OZkBQM30iextbETs8XK_DuGQc_I6mgGB63ICZ3fpmK0fo6Adab7QX1Dm4yPGBupTA/w400-h263/Scan+98+T24.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Tibetan pilgrims near Mt. Kailash (photo credit: Serge Pfister)</td></tr></tbody></table><br /></span>I will never forget standing on a
rooftop in Skardu, Pakistan, watching the culmination of the Shi'ite festival
of Moharram.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Thousands of men marched
into town from outlying villages, thumping their chests in thunderous bass
unison, bewailing the death of Imam Hussein.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>A handful of young men then flayed their backs with a flail tipped with
razor-sharp blades, spraying blood as they flagellated themselves into a frenzy
of devotion.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Equally blood-soaked was the
Filipino Easter parade I saw near Angeles City, with penitents marching with
crosses on their backs, wearing crosses of thorns; some would go on to have
themselves crucified.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I much preferred
the Tibetan pilgrims at Mount Kailash, barreling cheerfully around the sacred
mountain to expiate their sins.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The
handful of prostrator-pilgrims I came across in Tibet impressed me enormously
with their tenacity; measuring their length on the ground at each step, they
inchwormed their way either around a single temple in a long day, or across the
breadth of the country in a journey that could take years.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The Kalash of northern Pakistan, whose
ancestors entertained Alexander the Great's troops, offered the sad spectacle
of a milennia-old polytheism being swept away by the twin tsunamis of tourism
and Islam.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Japan's Shinto, on the other
hand, a practical and business-like polytheistic nature worship, thrives on the
sale of good luck charms, mostly for school examinations.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-family: Tahoma; mso-bidi-language: #00FF;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;"><b><u><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-family: Tahoma; mso-bidi-language: #00FF;">Philosophy<o:p></o:p></span></u></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-family: Tahoma; mso-bidi-language: #00FF;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> <table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjC9-l9WVYy1pjidduDw77qPHWNBMHpqmzouRqDvhiYcqTMb9DjKSzGCoynCueh7GWK02peMr1AZvjUSpbGsVL4RVNvZ3J3rkzRYba6d872VEvAc94AFW80MHgqZJcdlf93nzb_3nH6_WU/s640/Graydon+Beside+Panggong.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="480" data-original-width="640" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjC9-l9WVYy1pjidduDw77qPHWNBMHpqmzouRqDvhiYcqTMb9DjKSzGCoynCueh7GWK02peMr1AZvjUSpbGsVL4RVNvZ3J3rkzRYba6d872VEvAc94AFW80MHgqZJcdlf93nzb_3nH6_WU/w400-h300/Graydon+Beside+Panggong.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Meditating on eternity on the shores of Lake Pangong, Ladakh</td></tr></tbody></table><br /></span>Many an evening on the road is spent
swapping tall travel tales and waxing philosophical over what we've seen.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I won't claim that Wittgenstein or Nietzsche
would have been impressed by any of the insights I've come up with, but the
words of an American tourist whom I met in Corfu have stuck in my mind.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Before he set off on his 14-month odyssey
around the world, his parents mortified him by telling all their friends that
he was going to Europe “to find himself.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> His reply was indignant: </span>“I'm not going travelling to find myself!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I know who I am; I'm going travelling to
enjoy myself!”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When asked how he could
afford to spend so much time travelling after graduating from college, he came
up with perhaps the best response possible:<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>“At this age, how can I afford <u>not</u> to travel?”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>His answer holds true at any age, and
deserves to be the motto of my University of the Open Road.<o:p></o:p></span></p><br /><p></p>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-635211973012255844.post-51713601533374637552021-02-28T06:26:00.001-08:002022-08-15T20:41:59.341-07:00Book Launch Day!<!--Google tag (gtag.js)-->
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibyXIfL-Nh9VHrUboUwGkYnl_8MuUBuL-i7VpaqdP-_jAjJuxr-VkoZ58VkBF7pmBdMuwOdeH6pYTLmUg73Cw-CfiYyBLjzR9DQV7bsc9D5zV2sO2jswSyTbytsf-iBvkKlpMbWw6gD4k/s1000/DSC_7817.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1000" data-original-width="667" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibyXIfL-Nh9VHrUboUwGkYnl_8MuUBuL-i7VpaqdP-_jAjJuxr-VkoZ58VkBF7pmBdMuwOdeH6pYTLmUg73Cw-CfiYyBLjzR9DQV7bsc9D5zV2sO2jswSyTbytsf-iBvkKlpMbWw6gD4k/s320/DSC_7817.jpg" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A celebration here in Bali!<br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><p> Today the e-book went live; everyone who had pre-ordered it received their e-books, and from now on, it's an instant purchase. As well, yesterday the paperback became available (although only in Canada, the US, the UK and most of western Europe; Japan is delayed, and paperbacks aren't available in the rest of the world). So Terri and I celebrated, with a wonderful sea kayak outing in the morning, and a bottle of Australian bubbly wine in the evening.</p><p><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgM6dOZAQ_pXAb7sEiAdPQY4uR47tVWc0l8XowMlwd50v4uc4i233IMA90mfgX6Vj6U-0Ama_fc45gO9nilqMCptwjCfWpVawyuS9MIMxrJS1Ac-07FIDAoxggmF4xc3Pzcf8kYKptayKU/s1000/DSC_7821.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1000" data-original-width="667" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgM6dOZAQ_pXAb7sEiAdPQY4uR47tVWc0l8XowMlwd50v4uc4i233IMA90mfgX6Vj6U-0Ama_fc45gO9nilqMCptwjCfWpVawyuS9MIMxrJS1Ac-07FIDAoxggmF4xc3Pzcf8kYKptayKU/s320/DSC_7821.jpg" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My proud partner and map-maker</td></tr></tbody></table><br /></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYgM5yt_0n9KB1cn6Gx8jdULW7bEDPKDs-k_mPC1rFt0tZUSOb3uIxmRXEr6dUAnG2WCO4W2D8CL_Ig7WSEq7L90d5dW6l3tkNMD01PLRHo0u0221vOx_GuTCJ5QmN1Gw8dRh_atLzqyM/s1000/DSC_7818.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="667" data-original-width="1000" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYgM5yt_0n9KB1cn6Gx8jdULW7bEDPKDs-k_mPC1rFt0tZUSOb3uIxmRXEr6dUAnG2WCO4W2D8CL_Ig7WSEq7L90d5dW6l3tkNMD01PLRHo0u0221vOx_GuTCJ5QmN1Gw8dRh_atLzqyM/s320/DSC_7818.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The author enjoying a glass while contemplating his book<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table></td></tr></tbody></table><p>It was a surprisingly emotional moment to download the book onto my Kindle and see it there as a fully-fledged book, out there in the world competing for attention and readers with thousands of other books. </p><p>Anyway, I hope that many of you decide to buy the book, and that you enjoy it and tell your friends and family about it so that they get excited and buy it as well. I think it's a fun story, and definitely an enjoyable read for any armchair traveller.</p><p>The Kindle version is available by <a href="https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B08X6GTK43" target="_blank">clicking here</a>, and the paperback version is <a href="https://www.amazon.com/Pedalling-Kailash-Cycling-Adventures-Misadventures/dp/1777593611/ref=tmm_pap_swatch_0?_encoding=UTF8&qid=&sr=" target="_blank">available here.</a></p><p>Enjoy!!</p>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-635211973012255844.post-45761321670308274052021-02-26T06:58:00.003-08:002022-08-15T20:42:13.060-07:00Moving up the leaderboard<!--Google tag (gtag.js)-->
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<p> Feb. 26</p><p>After a few days of frantic preparation and book cover design and re-design, I was able to take it a bit easier today. Terri and I got out for a morning paddle in our sea kayak along the shore of northeastern Bali, and then worked on various projects around the house. Meanwhile, out in cyberspace, <a href="https://www.amazon.com/dp/B08X6GTK43" target="_blank">my book</a> was starting to get noticed. Yesterday it was rated as the #1 best-seller among New Releases in the Indian Subcontinent Travel category. I'm not sure if this is impressive or not, or whether it's like being the best downhill skier in Egypt. Still, it was a nice feeling.<br /></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0EQMxv1fYDd_YTyVwWc7rbDA3x-X45RjaXafzNFSvuD5WHaGuQJpkMmBHxY1M08RBecQeBecSPHJ0dHcXlg4L_8GPF1WQUzaGHKOOYr4-plOdGcnVFqQUH4LV0kHgUE4ETwi0uE1VTUY/s1037/Number+1+New+Release+in+Indian+Travel.PNG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="419" data-original-width="1037" height="244" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0EQMxv1fYDd_YTyVwWc7rbDA3x-X45RjaXafzNFSvuD5WHaGuQJpkMmBHxY1M08RBecQeBecSPHJ0dHcXlg4L_8GPF1WQUzaGHKOOYr4-plOdGcnVFqQUH4LV0kHgUE4ETwi0uE1VTUY/w605-h244/Number+1+New+Release+in+Indian+Travel.PNG" width="605" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Best downhill skier in Egypt? No, best-selling New Release in Indian Travel on Amazon<br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><span style="text-align: center;">So this evening I checked again, and the book was now listed as #7 in Indian Travel (not just New Releases, but all books in that category). I was rubbing shoulders with two of my idols, the travel writer William Dalrymple and the late mountain climbing legend Doug Scott.</span><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="679" data-original-width="701" height="512" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimwKL6M-URLikAQpZKamcp0tryGcrQgveH0oOCySeukNey3ogSFp-Nv3xZYbnbDP6403EaWDtF42aW1ktAMGq5gJu79AjJvWl0bPjJgvzauDQWKS5oIZzg1WAVxHuKiWQ8nfCVjVkmbZw/w529-h512/Indian+Travel+Best+Sellers.PNG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="529" /></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Nestled between William Dalrymple and Doug Scott; not a bad place to be!</td></tr></tbody></table><br /></div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div style="text-align: left;">So then I had a look at the China Travel best-sellers (the other category my book falls under), and I found I was jostling for position with Peter Frankopan, the eminent Oxford historian and author of the magisterial The Silk Roads. I really feel as though I'm flying a bit too high and that gravity will soon reassert itself, but for right now, I'll take being seen in this elevated travel writing company!</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbGCObyyP2idk0RflN54yjLpmg0qSIHwYLqNlPbH2WajltYjRWcuTrIN6FZ3mE5HHpdlSEbIwm-EoSupBQRwIGz9rpUWHabl4y8eUGHd9q6Dx1zdXuu0M4HyqwBIIHiX3LE27mq8OfSwg/s659/China+Bestsellers.PNG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="508" data-original-width="659" height="416" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbGCObyyP2idk0RflN54yjLpmg0qSIHwYLqNlPbH2WajltYjRWcuTrIN6FZ3mE5HHpdlSEbIwm-EoSupBQRwIGz9rpUWHabl4y8eUGHd9q6Dx1zdXuu0M4HyqwBIIHiX3LE27mq8OfSwg/w538-h416/China+Bestsellers.PNG" width="538" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Hanging out on the best-seller list with Peter Frankopan<br /><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Then, just as I was writing this, I checked the Indian travel best-seller list again (it's updated hourly, apparently, so it can be an addictive dopamine-dispenser) and found that I had leapfrogged Mr. Dalrymple into the #3 position on the list. I took a screenshot since it seems unlikely that this will last very long, but still, it's fun to dream.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div></td></tr></tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixwBi-S2r-y96o03WxrlVAFTZ_Px-tOneFC8JAZW-BiQ78rRtsHuoSt7ufIA-KkyDpPGOBrtlSSohnDBwx06LcVshkB8qZDusKQOGdLoGzU2lxrfz42BKvJGxoVUKeafoaK6rZxj3XBUc/s990/Indian+Travel+Best+Sellers+Feb+26.PNG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="472" data-original-width="990" height="275" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixwBi-S2r-y96o03WxrlVAFTZ_Px-tOneFC8JAZW-BiQ78rRtsHuoSt7ufIA-KkyDpPGOBrtlSSohnDBwx06LcVshkB8qZDusKQOGdLoGzU2lxrfz42BKvJGxoVUKeafoaK6rZxj3XBUc/w575-h275/Indian+Travel+Best+Sellers+Feb+26.PNG" width="575" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">We're number 3!</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">The paperback manuscript got returned to revise a single mistake, which I corrected a few hours ago, so I hope it will also be ready for sale on Feb. 28th. Very exciting times!</div><br /><p></p>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-635211973012255844.post-34406134402213265402021-02-24T23:19:00.002-08:002022-08-15T20:42:26.197-07:00And we're live!<!--Google tag (gtag.js)-->
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<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2VR0L-m3iEYeOmQBYoLoEhzXqIvXA4KNGu07NuSKus5AF4IwEFpos1FTpZZLWtF5Ihq3Xcy6eK5Lbr3Dkq48mKryROg1hKdctRLm-g0VX9qt5Uvob7ewxrSkrxw-wPDrGvRlQ1hg9PtY/s2048/JPEG+of+Front+Cover--Final.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1283" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2VR0L-m3iEYeOmQBYoLoEhzXqIvXA4KNGu07NuSKus5AF4IwEFpos1FTpZZLWtF5Ihq3Xcy6eK5Lbr3Dkq48mKryROg1hKdctRLm-g0VX9qt5Uvob7ewxrSkrxw-wPDrGvRlQ1hg9PtY/s320/JPEG+of+Front+Cover--Final.jpg" /></a></div> Yesterday was an exciting day for me in my budding writing career. The Kindle e-book version of my book, Pedalling to Kailash, went live on Amazon for pre-orders. I uploaded the manuscript, full of last-minute revisions, put in my lovingly crafted and recrafted front cover, did some pricing and bureaucratic form-filling, and ...voila! <p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-BlB69a9xhbYrDp9uCZZhBdrnU7bwQ7JAWut20SGY-F9ZazCXw_7gavgUNfpKu27ONzkYeEH1ph9ndhIGrYWjQIsvuUwJzb_WZWy0QljEGfOiuhK7NGZvk-xeOdiVT6uHesNbAHZjUTU/s997/Amazon+Screenshot.PNG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="447" data-original-width="997" height="286" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-BlB69a9xhbYrDp9uCZZhBdrnU7bwQ7JAWut20SGY-F9ZazCXw_7gavgUNfpKu27ONzkYeEH1ph9ndhIGrYWjQIsvuUwJzb_WZWy0QljEGfOiuhK7NGZvk-xeOdiVT6uHesNbAHZjUTU/w640-h286/Amazon+Screenshot.PNG" width="640" /></a></div><br /><br /><p>It's now <a href="https://www.amazon.com/dp/B08X6GTK43" target="_blank">for sale as a pre-order</a>; the first e-books will be sent out on Feb. 28th. A number of my friends have already pre-ordered the book, so it's off and running. In fact, according to the screenshot, it's currently the #1 new release in Indian travel writing (not sure how big a field that is on Amazon, but it's a good thing)!</p><p>I'm currently working on getting the paperback version released ASAP; I want to have it for sale on the same day (Feb. 28th) as the e-book gets released.</p><p>Very exciting!</p>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-635211973012255844.post-67804747766801653692021-02-21T06:14:00.001-08:002022-08-15T20:42:41.051-07:00One week to publication!<!--Google tag (gtag.js)-->
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<p>There is exactly one week to go before (if everything goes according to plan which, as the past year has proven, is not a sure thing!) my book Pedalling to Kailash is released out into the wild. It has been a busy few weeks, designing book covers, trying to figure out how to include images in my book and trying to do some social media marketing. Terri has spent a great deal of time and effort to create 4 beautiful hand-drawn maps for the book, which were a labour of love and have added a lot to the feel of the book.</p><p>I hope to have details on how to buy the book within two days. </p><p><br /></p><p>Which of the two possible cover designs do you think I should go for?</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNuHhcv0OemVYroZl6B46QHJ2YQiheCHaMjPKytLF0OslOa-dy4opXhf_jw0qpmwNLGAXIMEdT9SaLxRenGpwHqZCEVn_WfqIjOlq0FexYO7yWGby8mzgsX1m7H4hj3tlXpw0UYQNtd-Y/s2048/0001.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjA-erEt4hEfdqAUESLnSZJsX05yQL-uxL4Y3PXwdA_ZDDfLkTEx0IByTf4KS5Tfm_AP4cQiWO4uldq-Sr3-FxZP8y4oP4zF4PfA-uxZchod43W6JT8wd7hYznbiuX1XXgj5lrgttxyRSA/s2048/JPEG+of+book+cover+with+blue+boxes.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"> <img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1283" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjA-erEt4hEfdqAUESLnSZJsX05yQL-uxL4Y3PXwdA_ZDDfLkTEx0IByTf4KS5Tfm_AP4cQiWO4uldq-Sr3-FxZP8y4oP4zF4PfA-uxZchod43W6JT8wd7hYznbiuX1XXgj5lrgttxyRSA/s320/JPEG+of+book+cover+with+blue+boxes.jpg" /></a><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1283" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNuHhcv0OemVYroZl6B46QHJ2YQiheCHaMjPKytLF0OslOa-dy4opXhf_jw0qpmwNLGAXIMEdT9SaLxRenGpwHqZCEVn_WfqIjOlq0FexYO7yWGby8mzgsX1m7H4hj3tlXpw0UYQNtd-Y/s320/0001.jpg" /></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEia41dDRo-jxIUPwh3mfHy6ezI1kFm7GV_P0LErXmFDlbSX65KbmJKoC0Ye0Y1fzxn2Eitu4gzp3bnsXPMwofMVld_pVWGCPuG8nqrypW1Vy1nPpOADBWa4oPCLYomrLgFKxnkJQ-nHZBo/s2048/Map+1+Scan-2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1492" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEia41dDRo-jxIUPwh3mfHy6ezI1kFm7GV_P0LErXmFDlbSX65KbmJKoC0Ye0Y1fzxn2Eitu4gzp3bnsXPMwofMVld_pVWGCPuG8nqrypW1Vy1nPpOADBWa4oPCLYomrLgFKxnkJQ-nHZBo/w291-h400/Map+1+Scan-2.jpg" width="291" /> </a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpWIhW4cAGARAX4dOFrWoPX1DFav5VzeDCHIJx_hwK1-w-XZGLsUjlPsaUeLIWE4KE8KFN0JMoU8JgsHfveXtBjE8smtb9ikx6bDVPY9qMys8-71BYHK4YuSi1RzkPCPI_7ZRA6kO1ANI/s2048/Map+2+Scan-2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1471" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpWIhW4cAGARAX4dOFrWoPX1DFav5VzeDCHIJx_hwK1-w-XZGLsUjlPsaUeLIWE4KE8KFN0JMoU8JgsHfveXtBjE8smtb9ikx6bDVPY9qMys8-71BYHK4YuSi1RzkPCPI_7ZRA6kO1ANI/w288-h400/Map+2+Scan-2.jpg" width="288" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgL9ccxfHGztb1PfiXu3H2MarUYpqDixPFFJbcunYDAApbxHCwF5faiA8JBkqf5LEiO9xk9LdkXVQ8BJJH_C6eukoxVtYWwW3FxfaZ2Su2W066CZorNB7jf1CHdx098YErO9PyZzEpRnwQ/s2048/Map+3+Scan-2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1476" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgL9ccxfHGztb1PfiXu3H2MarUYpqDixPFFJbcunYDAApbxHCwF5faiA8JBkqf5LEiO9xk9LdkXVQ8BJJH_C6eukoxVtYWwW3FxfaZ2Su2W066CZorNB7jf1CHdx098YErO9PyZzEpRnwQ/w289-h400/Map+3+Scan-2.jpg" width="289" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLh6DAmA5reHgMetfpNSwGYoIJV4gQRH0FHlqVvAoTexPAr-ZV9ZqCD6iqQQ4gez8faIX2I_Gun5Q_ovUog6-OnofWaZjQ1ii96tEm6C-qHINhu76z9Sn8gsSEhnOXwVE76s7hH4dF4LI/s2048/Map+4+Scan-2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1471" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLh6DAmA5reHgMetfpNSwGYoIJV4gQRH0FHlqVvAoTexPAr-ZV9ZqCD6iqQQ4gez8faIX2I_Gun5Q_ovUog6-OnofWaZjQ1ii96tEm6C-qHINhu76z9Sn8gsSEhnOXwVE76s7hH4dF4LI/w288-h400/Map+4+Scan-2.jpg" width="288" /></a></div><br /><p><br /></p>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0