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 Oceanográfico

The Oceanográfico forms part of the spectacular City of Arts & Sciences complex in Valencia. As the largest aquarium in Europe, it brings those of us who are not marine biologists closer to the underwater world. It’s a place of education and conservation. It teaches hope and it inspires. It expands horizons and it aims to create a better world for the future.

And yet…it makes me uneasy.

Seahorse

Jellyfish

But then there are sharks.

Sharks

Walruses.

Walruses

And whales.

Whales

And suddenly the proportions don’t seem right.

What is my problem with these confined spaces? Are they smaller than the world’s oceans? Of course, but the story doesn’t end there. I’m not a Greenpeace crusader and I don’t work in an animal sanctuary. I’m not even vegetarian.

So why do these exhibits bother me?

I try to rationalize things. Qualified vets tend to these animals. No-one crams them into a factory the way they do for eggs and milk; no matador will slaughter them for entertainment.

These animals are even free from obligations during the day – well fed, kept warm, kept safe. I can hardly say the same for millions of people scattered across the globe in zones of famine and war and I don’t even need to go that far.

Inside Valencia's Aquarium

Across Europe and the USA, hundreds of thousands of people will get up and go to jobs they hate, sit in spaces much smaller than those I am questioning here and go home to get up and do it all over again. They will pay others to bring up their young, because they see no other way of finding food and shelter.

In many places in the world, people feel compelled to sell their children.

So, until I’m crusading against each and every one of those things – do I have any right to feel uncomfortable about conditions in an aquarium?

Disclosure: To avoid any confusion, this visit was nothing to do with the recent BlogTripF1 to Valencia.

Tigers - Will You See One?

“We’ve been here all week,” say the first couple we meet in Sawai Madhopur, when we ask the question that’s on everyone’s mind.

“Yesterday, we saw some tracks,” adds a woman who travelled here after an intensive yoga course.

The safari guide shrugs. “Nothing is guaranteed.”

Tigers. In this dusty, two-street town in Rajasthan, it’s slightly embarrassing to see so many people focused on one big cat. Especially when you’re one of them. Yet with only 4000 tigers left alive (across the whole world, not just in India,) tiger-fever is easier to understand.
Tigers decorate the safari jeeps, their pictures cover the hotel walls. They’re almost all you’ll find in the guidebooks and they dominate conversations between locals and tourists alike.

Tigers, tigers, tigers. Have you seen one? Do you think you will?

The Road to Ranthambore

Sawai Madhopur obsesses over tigers because it sits on the edge of the Ranthambore National Park, a key part of the initial Project Tiger conservation programme. Sadly, over the years it has become ensnared in its own poaching controversies, but it remains one of the best places in Rajasthan to spot a tiger. Safaris leave twice a day, once in the morning and then again at dusk, and the number of vehicles entering the park is strictly limited.

Yet as the safari guide rightly pointed out, “Nothing is guaranteed.”

Despite the tourist board rhetoric, many people do spend a week here without seeing a tiger. A colleague, Wild Junket, contacted me on twitter recently to ask whether or not it was even worth the trip.

I didn’t have as many words at my disposal then as I do now, but my answer was… ”Yes.”

On a Tiger Safari

“Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes!”

Tigers star in the line-up, tigers get all the glory, but… the truth is that Ranthambore bursts with wildlife, with velvet-purple lakes and monkeys swinging through sunset. Owls hoot softly from the trees and wild deer bolt through the long and golden grass. Old, abandoned forts cast shadows over the valley below…

If tigers had never existed (and at the rate we’re going, they soon won’t), then I strongly believe that people would still travel to see this park.

Ranthambore is beautiful. Its twisted trees, crisp dried landscape and its timeless feel deserve a visit. If you manage to see the queen of the jungle, that’s just the crowning glory.

As for me? Did my dream of tigers come true? You’ll have to read this article to find out.

Happy hunting.

Ranthambore...

Japan has no shortage of onsen, natural hot springs where people dip in and out of skin-scalding pools in order to soak, scrub and just relax and say ahhhhh. It’s a tradition that has become a widespread ritual, with both five star hotels and backpacker hostels offering indoor versions of a stingingly hot bath. 

Yet in Jigokudani Yaenkoen, macaque monkeys got there first.

In a steep, leafy corner of the Joshin-Etsu Kogen National Park, around 200 monkeys prance, preen and groom before dipping into the steaming onsen themselves.

Some are sage and relaxed, clearly used to the process…

For others, frightened about diving into the deep end, they look (if you’ll forgive me) a little wet around the ears…

There are those who clearly command authority…

Those who hide from the spotlight…

And those who just want to have fun…

See more travel photos at Delicious Baby’s Photo Friday

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.

Thanks to Mary and Sean for the question about visiting Pandas. Yes, I wandered through China a few years back – inspired by the book Wild Swans and driven to see Tiananmen Square, the Great Wall, the Terracotta Soldiers, the Forbidden Palace and then… I’d better stop myself there. You wanted to know about pandas, after all.

About Pandas

Apart from being the cover girl for WWF, pandas are among the most threatened species on earth with only around 2000 left.

That’s 2000 altogether, across the whole world. I know people with more than 2000 friends on facebook.

Pandas only eat bamboo and (rarely) attack humans – two reasons that may explain both why they are adored – and why they are endangered.

Seeing Pandas


Given how scarce pandas are, it’s not surprising that you won’t find much of a choice if you want to see them. I went to the Chengdu Panda Reserve, deep in the Sichuan Province. The Chengdu reserve describes itself as a “Research Base of Giant Panda Breeding”, which seems to translate into part zoo, part conservation area, part wilderness, and part science lab.

You’ll see plenty of red pandas and golden monkeys in the forest paths that meander around the main building. You may also see infant pandas in the labs, along with posters and presentations on panda breeding.

But will you see panda bears? When I visited, I saw several elderly pandas chomping on bamboo while their cartoon-like grandchildren tumbled around the floor.

Hang on a sec, is travelling to see pandas such a good idea anyway?

Like most things, it depends. Conservation groups and governments recognise the value of an industry where an animal is worth more alive than dead. Successful eco-tourism forms a powerful bargaining chip when convincing local communities to conserve habitats and halt poaching. Some groups, such as WWF, even advertise approved tours.

Travel considerately, treat animals and habitats with respect – and enjoy!

Hope that helped to answer your question. It’s been a few years since I was in China but I’d love to hear about what the place is like now. Drop a link below after you get back and tell us all about it.

If you’re interested in catching other endangered species in the non-poaching sense then try this article from Bootsnall.

Panda Photos – from Chi King. I’m afraid my photos are locked away in storage somewhere…

UPDATE: Travel China Guide tell me that Pandas are indeed still at Chengdu – and that you can visit them through one of their Chengdu Tours.

These days, I take promises of viewing exotic wildlife with more than a pinch of saltwater. Particularly endangered species. To find pandas I had to travel for days. To glimpse a tiger, I shivered morning and night under a blanket of frost.

But to see turtles in Barbados? I only needed to hold my nose and leap from a gleaming white boat.

Armed with only a bikini and a snorkel, I’m surrounded. These tiger-striped, glimmering beauties close in. And they are not shy. I gulp and choke on the burning seawater as my head drops below the surface. I don’t want to swim for fear of damaging them with my flailing limbs.

But something extraordinary happens.

The romantic inside me wants to believe that they saw I was struggling; the cynic says I was in the way. Whatever the reason, a stately giant glides skyward from underneath me and keeps on going. So much so that I am standing on its back, my head lifted above the water to breathe.

It seems that I am shy – not they – and I have to wonder who is viewing whom.

For more on viewing endangered species, click here.