As we struck out on river safari on our first morning in Botswana, I noticed the light fluffy clouds forming out on the horizons, framing the bright blue sky. When we came across these two safari boats parked up against an island, I took the opportunity to get a picture of the clouds in the background. Little did I know that these clouds were a sign of the rain that was going to lead to a miserable afternoon on the back of a safari truck. Well, it wasn’t so miserable for me. As I’m such a gentleman, I’d let the girls I was with take the two outside seats on the safari truck while I sat in the middle seat. When the rain began to fall, I was fairly well sheltered and warm sandwiched between the two of them. They, on the other hand, were regularly hit by the water crashing down from the canvas covering on the top of our open sided safari truck. When we arrived at camp, they were both soaked to the skin. 
My Capetown host said hello today, so I’ve been inspired to post one of the photos I took while staying there. This is a small rocky area at one end of the expansive, beautiful Nordhoek beach. I wanted to capture the power of the water around here so as the sun dropped down I let my shutter speeds slow down to show off the churning movement of the water as it bursts onto the rocky shoreline.
I didn’t actually think it’d rush up as far as it did. Suddenly my feet discovered just how cold the water is this far South of the equator.
I’ve got a few photos lined up and quite possibly a bit of time to breathe so am going to try to get back into posting a photo a day. Comments on photos and requests for places you know I’ve been definitely help motivate me!
I’ve got a week in Cuba on the brain at the moment. I’ll be trying to go late March/early April. If you’d like to join me, feel free to let me know!! 🙂
As you drive from Livingstone to the Victoria Falls, there’s a moment, before you get there, where you can see the mist reaching for the sky directly ahead of you. When you enter the park, before you feel the mist, you can hear the falls roaring in the distance. Before you can see the falls, you feel the air get moist and see the mist swirl around you as you pass the gate. Then, you stop, and your jaw drops as you see the massive curtain of water tumbling into the rift stretching ahead of you. But, this is just the beginning. The gorge continues on and on as you continue to walk. Eventually you reach the end of Zambia, totally soaked to the skin, camera gear screaming for mercy, and the curtain of water disappears into a cloud of mist where it crosses the border to Zimbabwe.
It was at this point that I stopped and watched three tourists, far more prepared than me, with a guide and ponchos, gaze upon what is considered one of the seven natural wonders of the world.
Not all 4x4s are off road vehicles. So, when you rent one, with a goal to go anywhere you want, choosing the cheapest option isn’t necessarily the best idea. Still, it definitely made this drive from Walvis Bay to Sossusvlei interesting.
“Corrugated road, 20 km… speed limit reduced to 60km/hr,” the sign said.
I didn’t have to wonder exactly what a corrugated road was for long before we fired onto the bumpiest surface I’ve ever been on. A corrugated road is exactly what it sounds like, small ridges like those in a sheet of corrugated metal. The car felt like it was going to shake to pieces. I slowed to 60km/hr and the vibrations didn’t stop. Eventually, things calmed down at 30km/h.
So, slowly we rolled on, past vast expanses of desert, punctuated occasionally by wild ostriches. I drove for about an hour and a half before switching to the passenger seat. It wasn’t long after this that we climbed a bit, and got this view back across the expanse we had just crossed.
I thought this little baby penguin with a pink heart painted on his chest was fitting for today. He lives on Boulder’s Bay, in Simonstown, South Africa, along with a colony of African Penguins. They used to be called Jackass Penguins because of the noise they make.
No other penguins were marked like this, so I really have no idea why he’s got this little heart painted on him.
Off we drove, into the off road area at Dune 7 in our sub-par 4×4. We picked up speed as we prepared to climb from the hard packed sand at the base to the flowing dunes. Then, we stopped. We were stuck. Fifteen minutes later we dug, rocked and pushed the car out and back down to the hard packed sand. It was time to set off on foot.
Walking on these dunes really isn’t easy. The sand is very soft and it doesn’t take much of a gradient to feel like you’re getting lower down with each step forward you take. As a result, the three of us took off in different directions, attacking what we thought was the easiest route. Harleigh, pictured below, took the direct route up some of the steepest inclines. Her momentum carried her about three quarters of the way to the top, where I was able to catch this photo of her just before she was forced to drop to her hands and knees and drag herself the rest of the way.
I was jealous. As I was carrying two cameras and a tripod I couldn’t used my hands to make the climb without dragging my gear through the sand. I spent quite a while trying different routes until I found a way, using less steep bits, that let me reach the ridge.
Splitting up worked out well for me as I was able to snap a few pictures of the dunes dwarfing the girls and giving a real sense of the immensity of these mountains of sand.








