2017 Christmas Newsletter

Here it is folks! In lieu of a cheap crappy Christmas card, I'm sending you this highly polished video.

No words, just pictures.

And some music to dance along to...

Phil & Annick

Epilogue - of Poops and Other Things. Botswana Trilogy, Part...5?

This is for those of you interested in having more information about the camps we went to, and even more about elephant poo:

As mentioned in Part 1 of the amazing Botswana Trilogy, our first camp, Chitabe, had the best food I’ve ever had on safari as well as extremely friendly and genuine staff. By that I mean that their friendliness was genuine, not that they were genuinely staff. Although they were...

An example: on coming back from a hard morning’s drive, we asked if there were any snacks we could nibble on. A few minutes later, they appeared with this:Food porn maybe, but wow!

These camps do what they can to appear to be, on the one hand, a group of tents, whilst having every imaginable luxury on the other. They all have flush toilets, showers, two wash hand basins, running hot and cold water... well, you get the general idea, everything you have in a normal tent... er, not. They are always over the top. One camp had a lounge area, and in our third camp they even had an inside shower and an outside shower, for if you get the urge to get buck naked in front of the wildlife. 

Which, of course, I did...

Many even have swimming pools. Albeit possibly lacking in the size department, it does make you wonder what some people go on safari for.

Here’s a tent from the second camp (Shinde). I nicked this photo off the internet because I forgot to take any photos myself. Idiot. Too busy taking photos of stupid animals when I should have been taking pictures of tents...

Looks like it is in the wild doesn’t it? But this camp site was surrounded by a high electrified wire to keep out the elephants. Not too effective against lions though. This place also had a swimming pool, cunningly situated outside the electric fence. Thankfully lions don't like water. Elephants, on the other hand...

Tents are often put on stilts. I guess this fools some people into thinking that makes the tent safe. I mean, predators dont climb trees do they?

The third camp lacked a pool, but was situated on the banks of a crocodile infested river. Swimming wasn’t heavily promoted. Go figure.

Although beautifully placed, the staff there did have a penchant for the practical but slightly weird. Taking a walk on the wild side took on a whole other meaning in this camp. Their walkways are all covered with elephants poo! Apparently this has several advantages over less ‘traditional’ materials.

Annick wasn’t convinced...

Here’s a crap (pun intended) picture of me just to remind everybody that I was there too. Please note alternative use of elephants poo as hair replacement...

Each camp treated us to a special meal. At Chitabe, it was with sundowners at sunset in the savannah. Sorry, got a bit poetic there.

At Shinde, it was a meal for two under the stars, and on the last night of our holiday (in the Lagoon Camp) we were whipped away as if honeymooners for our own romantic repas. 

We left this message....

Unfortunately, behind that curtain is nothing but fresh air. Fresh air that got even fresher during the night, blowing most of Annick's hard work to the floor, leaving just the words HANK Y   MUCK.

Hopefully they got the message.

OK, that’s enough parts to this trilogy. Now back to civilisation. 

But I do miss the elephant’s poo...

Hunting Dogs. Botswana Trilogy Part 3: Kwando Lagoon Camp

Cats are easily the most successful killers on this planet. Present company excepted.

Dogs; not so much. 

Dogs tend to be scavengers and eat socks, underwear and poops. But not Wild Dogs. Maybe that’s due to the lack of underwear in the savannah, but maybe also due to their social interaction and organisational skills. This makes them powerful hunters. 

Social interaction is something cats really aren’t good at. Just try stroking their belly. 

We were at the Kwando Lagoon Camp in northern Botswana to try to see these dogs in action. I had seen them hunt over ten years ago in Botswana, I was desperate to see them again.

That first afternoon did not give us enough time to start our hunt, so we stopped off to watch the attempts at social interaction of some of the local cats.

It usually ends in tears.

That evening, we dined with two of the staff and one other guest. There was also another couple, who were on honeymoon but had been whipped away to dine alone, or whatever it is that honeymooners get up to. 

This lone man was in the banking trade, his job was to help sort out crises. This man must be made of stern stuff I thought. 

After an hour of listening to his bigoted diatribes (not an unusual occurrence on safari) we were rescued by a distant alarm. 

The honeymooners were in trouble. 

One of the staff rushed off, leaving us to guess on what might be happening. Then, a second alarm, then a third. This was getting serious. The last member of staff rushed off leaving the three of us, Annick, myself and the intrepid banker, alone. 

The banker was getting nervous. “We need somewhere safe in case...” he cried, and left to find such a place. Now remember, we were in the middle of absolutely nowhere, with access only by plane or canoe. After a quick nervous search, he came back with the news that the upstairs library room was the least safe place, as it only had one way in or out, making it easy for us to be cornered by... whatever was out there.

We tried to calm him with tales of crocodile attacks, but nothing seemed to work.

Eventually the staff came back, to find us with a wreck of a banker muttering something about heath and safety. The emergency had been just a leaking faucet, that one of the honeymooners had tried to stop with part of his anatomy...

The next morning we set off at the usual ungodly hour. It was a hot and tired start to the day. 

With our spotter perched precariously on the front of the bonnet of our truck, we sped off in the direction the dogs were last seen three days previously. After initial excitement at seeing what turned out to be hyena prints, the hours started to stretch thinly. We passed through several stark forests, filled with dead trees. Spooky.

The heat was mounting, along with our despair. Then, after four hours of nowt but elephant crap, our spotter leapt off his hazardous seat. It was not, as suspected, an attempt at suicide. If he had smiled any wider, the top of his head would have dropped off. 

Wild Dog tracks.

The guide and his spotter searched around the open area for a clue as to which direction the dogs had gone in. We sat there in the open truck becoming hotter and sleepier and, in the banker’s case, more nervous. We were stuck there. No escape, no protection, no Health & Safety Regulations poster.
We survived.

Finally, we set off once more, this time with hopes raised.
 
Two hours later there was still no sign of the elusive dogs. “How about rattling a box of dog biscuits?” I suggested.

Things were looking grim. Grim looking things were everywhere. Our consciousness was beginning to slip, when suddenly we had some luck.

On entering a small stand of trees in search of shelter from the beating sun (we had pretty much given up on the dogs) we heard a deep rumbling “Ho Hum” coming from a large and ancient tree. 

“Well” I thought, “there’s something you don’t see every day...”

It was, of course, an Ent, a tree herder from ancient times. He spoke in a deep rumbling voice in exactly the way that trees usually don’t. “I am Bay O’Bab, sapling of Treebeard” he thus spoke, before describing in detail his long lineage.

“Jesus” we weapt.

We finally manage to ask if he had seen wild dogs recently. The gist of his answer was “Yay and verisomely thrice yay. T’was but a meagre passaging of time past.”

Meagre? 500 years or so.

We made our excuses (along the lines of “Oh great and wearisome one! We must be fleet of foot and fly sharpish for the head doctor”) and left to add some more alcohol to our addled brains.
That afternoon we relaxed safely back in camp, although our ‘crisis expert’ seemed concerned that he was being watched...

We then spent a couple of hours relaxing on the river.

That evening’s sundowner drinks treated us with yet another stunning sunset

The night drive back to camp was not without excitement. These guys really know their job. We spotted serval, genet, spring hare, honey badgers and wild cat, all in the same evening. This contrasted with the previous camps that did not use spotters, but instead drove wildly through the dark savannah waving a light around as if demented. 

And so to the last full day. Our last chance to see Wild Dogs. 

Well, that morning went in a similar vien to the previous one. Endless driving, endless heat, with added giraffes 

but with no added Wild Dogs.

Once more the unforgiving heat beat against us, and once more drowsiness started to overcome us. I began to realise that my head was maybe losing its grip on sanity on seeing this fox.

Something was clearly wrong with reality.

And then we saw a strange disturbance on a river’s bank. Fairies!

We asked them if they’d seen any wild dogs, but they were in party mode, flying hither and thither like a flock of birds. 

Once more, we asked if wild dogs were to be seen, but they just carried on partying. 
Typical fairies.

And so; failure. We headed back to camp where, as is often the case, there was more wildlife to see than on the game drive. We spent the afternoon watching elephants cross the river. As one does...

The sun went down on our hunt for dogs. Elephants would have to do instead.

Our adventure was coming to an end. We had seen all the cats that Africa has to offer, but no Wild Dogs. 

Some of the local wildlife seemed somewhat scornful.

And so to the last full stomach...

and the final sunset.

The next morning, during our trip to the airstrip ready for our 10,000 kilometre homeward flights, we stopped to say fairwell to this most magnificent King of all Beasts.

The end of another great safari. 

Shame about the wild dogs. 

I guess that means that we’ll just have to go back....

For more photos from the Lagoon Camp, click here.

For Part 1 of this amazing trilogy, click here.

For Part 2 of this amazing trilogy, click here.

For photos from the entire Botswana trip, click here (I’ll be updating this for months to come!)

Shooting Elephants. Botswana Trilogy Part 2: Shinde Camp.

Big, handsome, social and wise. 

Well, that’s enough about me...

We arrived at our second camp in Botswana in the early afternoon to be welcomed by a slightly worried guide. He hinted at poor animal sightings and offered a more ‘relaxing’ kind of visit.

Oh dear.

The forests and savannah around Shinde had recently experienced a massive fire. This foretold low wildlife numbers, as many had moved away to stay with family and friends. The elephants however seemed not to care, they had all their family and friends with them. No need of Facebook.

It seems that our stay there would be about shooting elephants. And one elephant in particular.

There were rumours of a mutant, deep within the swamps of the Okavango, a young elephant that had been spotted sporting two trunks. Was this possible? We set out to find it.

That first day found us few elephants, but I did spot a tick between the eyes of this passing leopard. It’s surprising how close you can get to deadly predators as long as you stay sat down in your open top van and pretend to not look like dinner. 

Having decided not to try out my new tick removing method without further trials, we then saw my next potential patient; one of my dog’s relatives (another professional scavenger) missing part of his lower jaw. After being on safari you tend to get the idea that maybe ‘natural’ is not all that much of a good thing....

As for our quarry, we were out of luck, no sign of elephants (apart, that is, from the ubiquitous elephant poo).

Evening came and we stopped to be admired by the scenery...

Then, as the last light faded, in the dark far distance, elephants! 

Our hopes thus raised, we readied ourselves for the next days hunt. 

The day started early (at the usual 6am) and welcomed us with clear blue skies.

Would we find the rumoured monstrosity? 

The only mutant we saw that morning was this three-headed giraffe.

How disappointing! 

Then, that afternoon. A young elephant with a strange trunk!

This, however, was not a mutant. It had undergone cosmetic surgery done by a local quack. Probably an encounter with a crocodile whilst crossing a river...

We continued on, tracking elephant footprints and their tastefully discarded ‘spoor’.

Then our luck changed. Before us, a huge herd. Amongst them, many young.

Some feeding, some fighting, some frolicking.

And then, in the distance, a glimpse of our prey! One slim chance for a photo before it disappeared...

Success! The rumours were proven to be true! 

Now armed with photographic evidence, we could stun the worlds leading scientists! 

Would having two trunks be useful? Any elephant this well endowed would surely smell twice as good? Drinking however might well be a problem, with water sucked up one trunk leaking out of the other...

Our goal finally achieved, we spent the rest of our stay relaxing in the swamp, as one does.

After a couple more days floating around the swamp and avoiding hippos, we walked away from the Okavango Delta, with temperatures mounting, ready for our final challenge.

  Wild Dogs or not Wild Dogs? Stay tuned.

Editor’s Notes:

No animals were harmed in the production of this blog. All shooting was by camera only. Duh.

Literary license has been used in the production of this blog. The photo of the poor young elephant with the amputated trunk was taken near the last camp, Chitabe. It was not photoshopped, neither was the photo of the elephant that appeared to have two trunks. 

The global loss of wildlife has recently been highlighted in these enormous beasts. Because of the work of wildlife charities such as the African Wildlife Foundation, and because of the forward looking Botswana government, hunting wildlife in the entire country has now been banned, and elephant numbers are rebounding.

Seeing an elephant rebound at close quarters is not to be advised.

To see all photos from the Shinde Camp, please click here.

For the third and final chapter, click here