Safari in the Okavango Delta

Despite the stillness of the water, there’s no sound of silence. Insects skim across the reeds with a soft buzz and woodpeckers tap against acacia trees. Birds chatters in all directions – yet the loudest by far are the doves.

Chu charra, chu charra.

“Work harder, work harder,” says Rodger, slipping a pole into the delta and easing us forward.

“Drink lager, drink lager,” says another guide, Amos, illustrating a different point of view.

From where I’m sitting, level with the water in a slender mokoro, I hear something else. Botswana, Botswana, Botswana.

The Okavango Delta

The Okavango Delta, Botswana

Eight hundred miles from the Atlantic and a thousand from the Indian Ocean, the Okavango Delta looks like a miniature version of the earth from the air, an expanded jigsaw of land swirls amid deep and spreading blue.  Its water seeps up through the soil, having landed as monsoon rain a thousand miles north in Angola. It’s long been protected, both by government intervention and because its soggy, swampy nature makes building roads here impossible.

To get this deep into the delta, we’ve flown from Maun in a four-seater Cessna, a tiny contraption  that trembled during the descent as though in awe of the expanse below. An elephant greeted us on the runway and warthogs scuttled past us in the camp.

Conservation in Botswana

Botswana takes its wildlife pretty seriously. Even on foot, guides can’t carry firearms for self-defence, only a gunpowder-laced contraption that resembles a syringe. When an elephant veers too close to the camp, a single empty gunshot rips through the vast sky.

Should an elephant charge, or a hippo rear up from the water, our survival depends on our behaviour, we are told. Stand still, stay quiet – and if told to run, try not to fall into an aardvark hole.

Not everyone is reassured.

An Elephant Greets Us on the Runway

“Why not take a gun with you?” asks one member of our camp. “If you killed something by accident, what’s the worst that could happen?”

“A lifetime in prison,” comes the reply.

There’s a rare moment of silence before we climb aboard.

Stand still, stay quiet – and try not to fall into an aardvark hole.

Mokoro on the Delta

Despite the danger, it’s hard to imagine a more peaceful mode of transport. A cross between a punt and a canoe, mokoros used to be the only way to travel around here. Previous generations hand-carved them from ebony and kigelia trees but had to wait for more than 100 years for the trunk to reach the right size. Since a wooden mokoro only has a five year lifespan, the arrival of a fibreglass version was greeted with about the same enthusiasm as the discovery of sliced bread.

Today, boats use small motors to churn along the main waterway to Maun, carrying people, food and beer. The mokoros, however, fashion their own way through the reed fields, the long grass spreading apart before them in a deferential rustle.

This off-piste navigation isn’t just for entertainment, though.

Giraffe on Safari

 “The only animal I fear,” says Rodger when I ask him, “is the hippopotamus. That is why we stay away from the main channel.”

“But,” I state the obvious. “We do need to cross it… eventually.”

Rodger sinks the pole into the delta again and water sloshes gently against the thin-walled mokoro.

 “I look for bubbles,” he says slowly. He grins. “And I drive fast!”

Chu-charra, chu-charra.

 The doves reach a crescendo as we glide past giraffe, baboons and impala, while Rodger keeps watch. My mind drifts to his interpretation of what the doves are saying.

Like the rhythm of the mokoro itself, his version soothes me.

More information on arranging a safari in Botswana’s Okavango Delta coming soon…

Okavango Delta Flowers

Birdsong & The Okavango Delta, Botswana

Mokoro Safari, Okavango Delta

The Okavango Delta From Above

The world’s largest inland delta from the sky: the Okavango Delta in Botswana.

I’ll explain more when I return…

As the sun sets over the Okavango Delta...

The Okavango Delta is the world’s largest inland delta. Between reeds and palm trees, “the Delta” in Botswana nurtures crocodiles and herons, impala and elephants, locals and, for a while at least, me.

While wildlife is abundant, electricity is scarce. So, here’s a taste of what I’ll be blogging about in the weeks to come (and apologies for any lapse in cyber-etiquette in the meantime!)

Well, I thought I was a pretty active and adventurous person, scaling ice walls and climbing mountains and even managing the staircase after a busy day in the hospital.

Then I heard about Rob. This guy swam across the straits of Gibraltar (more people have climbed Everest than completed this successfully), cycled across Africa and then ran a “double marathon” all to raise money for a fantastic charity, Re-Cycle (and to watch England play in the World Cup. But let’s face it, there are easier ways of doing that.)

“Re~Cycle’s mission is to collect secondhand bicycles and ship them to Africa. Their partners distribute bikes and teach riders the skills to repair and maintain them. Their bikes also help healthcare workers reach remote villages and even provide an ambulance service in remote Namibia.”

So, for the second in this series of interviews on unusual journeys, let’s hear from the man himself, Rob Forbes.

How would you describe yourself and what you’ve done?

I’m an easy going sporty character who makes the most of life and enjoys a good adventure. Up until cycling 20,000km through mountains, deserts and tropical rainforests down West Africa and braving ships and sharks in swimming 25km from Spain to Morocco, all of my greatest achievements had taken place at the dinner table including 77 chicken wings at hooters and 3^rd place in a national pie eating contest.

- Have you ever done a great long adventure like this before?

Within 2 weeks of departing home I had cycled further than I have done in my entire life and in training I didn’t even manage to swim half the distance required to cross the Strait. As for the run I’ve never gone beyond marathon distance so I have no idea how my body will respond at trying to complete over  double the distance on hilly terrain. Therefore I guess you could say this is a once in a lifetime adventure (but I do thrive off shorter sporting challenges and plan to take on an ironman next year.) I also plan to go into intensive training and better my 2008 third place finish in this year’s national mince pie eating contest.

“Until cycling 20,000km through mountains, deserts and tropical rainforests down West Africa and braving ships and sharks in swimming 25km from Spain to Morocco, my greatest achievement was reaching 3rd place in a national pie eating contest.”

-Which countries have you travelled through?

England, France, Spain, Morocco, Mauritania, Senegal, Mali, Burkina Faso, Ghana, Togo, Benin, Nigeria, Cameroon, Congo, DRC, Angola, Namibia, Botswana, South Africa (Lesotho for 2km on the Mweni Mountain marathon as part of my comrades training!)

-Which place surprised you the most?

Rob in the Sahara

Nigeria. Before setting off I consulted with various overlanders who all advised me that Nigeria and South Africa would be the most dangerous countries I’d pass through. This attitude was reinforced by other travellers I met along the way, who suggested I’d be lucky to make it out with my bike and should either fly or make sure a cycled incredibly fast.

 As it transpired I had a great experience by avoiding the dodgy cities and delta regions in the south and travelling through central areas well off the beaten tourist trail. Being able to speak English was a great release and as a result I was able to have much more banter along the way, get directions (although that wasn’t always beneficial) and find out exactly what type or bit of animal was on my dinner plate!

-Where did you get the idea for this from?

I was always planning to follow England this World Cup because we have family in South Africa – and having got into cycling and triathlons it seemed like the obvious thing to do.

-Would you recommend doing it to your best friend? Your worst enemy?!

 For sure, I’d definitely recommend my best friend to cycle through Africa but over a much longer period of time so they don’t have to go through the same bum trauma and fatigue as me. As for my worst enemy, he’d be more than welcome to borrow my wet suit and attempt to swim the Strait of Gibraltar.

-Did you ever consider giving up?

Giving Bikes to Communities That Need Them

No chance. Watching England win the world cup and knowing that so many friends and family had backed me with donations to the charity was more than enough motivation to keep the pedals spinning.

-How did you keep yourself motivated?

 The sweet taste of Soreen malt loaf provided me with just the energy I needed to get me through some of the darker moments.

-What’s the most dangerous place you’ve ever visited?

 I was in the away end at a Swindon match once. I guess the DRC is considered pretty dangerous and I did have to pick up my pace at one stage to get through a road block manned by teenagers with machetes.

As for my worst enemy, he’d be more than welcome to borrow my wet suit and attempt to swim the Strait of Gibraltar.

-Your favourite? (Ah, you knew that one was coming)

Gabon was stunning, stacks of rainforest and lots of wildlife. What more do you need? I also loved the Congo just for the street ladies’ homemade peanut butter.

-Do you think this trip has changed you?

I’m certainly a lot hairy and skinnier and its made me really appreciate all the things we take for granted in life – running water, electricity, tarred roads etc. and even food and water!

- How did you hear about Re-cycle? What made you choose them?

Gibraltar: A Swim for My Worst Enemy

I was searching around for a charity that would tie in nicely with the sustainable ethos of the trip and someone mentioned re-cycle. So, I went and met with them, helped with the loading of bicycles, and was really impressed with how the charity operated. It is just such a great idea to recycle unwanted bikes and give them to people who really need them, that I was instantly sold. I’ve since been able to see first hand how the increased mobility provided by bicycles can really make a difference to people’s lives in Africa. I’ve seen people transporting all manner of goods by bicycle from live goats and chickens to 8 foot long rolls of hut thatching!

I’ve since been able to see first hand how the increased mobility provided by bicycles can really make a difference to people’s lives in Africa.

-How did you plan for this trip? Was it enough?

Having day dreamed about doing such a trip for much of last year it wasn’t until early August, after reading the Lonely Planet Africa guide book, carrying out some internet research and contacting other adventurers, that I realised I really needed to get the pedals spinning if I was going to make it to the World Cup. From there on in it was a mad panic balancing work, swim training and planning the trip.  A week before departing, I still didn’t have a bike or any kit but one way or another I was ready for lift off on the 1^st October and therefore able to make it to southern Spain just in time to attempt the swim before autumn conditions set in.

I also plan to go into intensive training and better my 2008 third place finish in this year’s national mince pie eating contest.

-Would you do it all again?

Rob in the Atlas Mountains

Probably not. This was a once in a lifetime adventure and I don’t think it would do my career or relationship any good to disappear off on a bicycle for another 8 months, let alone my ability to have kids in the future!

-What do you do when you’re not performing heroic missions?

Watch sport, eat, read about sport, eat, play sport, eat, work with wildlife to earn some money to enter sporting events, buy food and eat.

-What do you wish I’d asked you?

Is £10,000 a big enough donation to the charity for this superb interview?

Is £10,000 a big enough donation to the charity for this superb interview?

So there you have it. If you’d like to help support the charity Re-Cycle, you can find all the juicy details on Rob’s own site, Tri4Africa. You can also find him on Twitter and Facebook. He aims to raise £1 per mile (that’s £19 000 altogether) and every contribution goes straight to charity. He’s not there yet and time is running out…

Zanzibar, Spice Island

Zanzibar

In Zanzibar, curved triangles glide across the horizon every evening, the silhouettes of sails rather than sharks, as fishermen return home for the day. Women stride into the water, wrapped in patterned kangas, to load the catch into buckets they carry on their heads.

The world calls Zanzibar the Spice Islands, thanks to the cinnamon, coriander and vanilla plantations that flourish here, plus the intersection of trade routes from the gardens and kitchens of East Africa and the Arabian Peninsula.

Our dreary dinner, therefore, was something of a mystery.

I reread the choices: Moroccan chicken, Neapolitan pasta and chicken curry. By now, I knew that each dish was the same – some unidentifiable meat in a sickly tomato sauce, created by the chef who doubled as the barman and trebled as the receptionist.

I was still gazing at the handwritten menu propped up in the sand when the dhow boats returned and the fishing procession began. Gleaming octopus with tentacles dangling, buckets of silver, slippery fish and nets bursting with full-bodied, amber fish…

The chef walked past.

“Would it be alright,” I asked carefully,” if we bought some fish for dinner…or octopus… Anything, really.”

“You like seafood?” He looked confused.

I felt confused. “Er, yes.”

His shoulders dropped and he beamed. “Thank goodness!”

That night, we ate some of the freshest and finest seafood I’d ever tasted.

We also laid the ghosts of two myths to rest: that the food here was awful and that foreigners only eat meat.

Zanzibar Skyline

Spices for Sale

Colours for Sale

In Morocco, the colours dazzle.

Marketplaces, in particular, fire up my photoreceptors faster than I can manage to take photos.

Nearby Treats

Yet in Essaouira, a windswept town facing the Atlantic Ocean, I think I can spot a bias.

In Essaouira...

...the colour is blue.

In Essaouira, the colour is blue.

Head over to DeliciousBaby’s Photo Friday for more travel photos from around the world.

Pilot Whales

It’s certainly not the first time Pedro has hunted whales, but you wouldn’t know it to look at him. Despite a seafaring tradition of more than three generations plus hauling tourists along the waves every day, he still wears that expression of childlike wonder.

It’s not the first time Pedro has hunted whales…

He’s right, of course, and I stare, mesmerized as sleek-skinned pilot whales rise out of the water. At first glance, they look like giant dolphins, with their glistening dorsal fins, curved leaps and semi-wicked glints in their eyes. Water falls off them like showers of diamonds, yet their chunky body shape still suggests that someone got their proportions wrong.

Los Gigantes

It’s only when we find a school of dolphins half an hour later that the difference becomes clear. Dolphins are sprightlier, bouncier, faster. They are also much, much smaller.
Pilot Whales, I learn, are 6 metres long at birth and can grow to weigh 3 tons. In a happy change from many whale-related stories, they are not critically endangered, nor even under threat.

Water falls off them like diamonds.

The same cannot be said for the fishing business that Pedro grew up with in Puerto de Santiago. His grandfather practiced line-caught tuna fishing, a dolphin-friendly but backbreaking method of heaving the hulk of a tuna fish onto a small boat by means of a single line. Days started at four in the morning and drove on until eight at night for all but two months of the year.
Now that tradition has gone.

Watching Dolphins

“Contamination,” says Pedro, when I ask. “And trawler nets.”

We both gaze across the perfect sky and cliffs that frame the Atlantic Ocean. Would Pedro have preferred to be a fisherman?

He pauses for a moment. “Fishing is hard work, very hard work. It is also very good for the body, good for the form.” He pats his stomach and bellows with laughter.

He pauses for a moment. “Everything has to change.”

Seagulls swoop from overhead to snatch food from his crewmate’s outstretched hands.

Everything has to change. It is life.

“We have to change,” Pedro tells me. “Everything has to change. It is typical, it is life.” He hands me a whale-watching certificate, smiles and then saunters down to encourage the seagulls.

DIY Dolphin & Whale Watching

Pedro is the captain of Nashira Uno. The Maritima Acantilados group organizes Whale & Dolphin Cruises from Los Gigantes in Tenerife. For the suspicious among you, I paid for this myself. That isn’t always the case but the one constant is that I say when it’s been subsidised.

For more whale and dolphin watching photos, visit Inside the Travel Lab’s collection on either Flickr or Facebook.

Moshi, in the shadow of Kilimanjaro, 2002

Remember the time when a photograph was something we held in our hands, waited for weeks to see and then painstakingly arranged in albums we could touch? Or in my case,  at least, stuffed them in a cardboard box somewhere with great plans to do all that at some vague point in the future.

Travel blogger Heather from Heather on her Travels posted a student photograph of her visit to Papua New Guinea last week and it got me thinking about my own pre-digital archives.

This photo, of an average road in Moshi, reminds me of one of my most important journeys, one that challenged and stretched me in many different ways yet still left an imprint on my soul and a desire to carry on travelling.

I lived here for two months, as a medical student in the paediatric unit, learning about poverty, death, corruption and hope. I also hauled my exhausted body to the summit of Kilimanjaro and studied Swahili on safari as well as on the wards.

In fact, I’ve enjoyed looking at this so much that perhaps, like Heather,  I’ll introduce a few more of these golden oldies…