One of my travel mates on our recent trip to Africa, Cameron, is in the back of this canoe. In the front is George. We met him in our hostel in Livingstone and he decided to join us on the Lower Zambezi. He had just finished living in a village teaching a sports program at the local school.
Waking up before sunrise is pretty easy when you’re sleeping in a mesh tent surrounded by the sounds of wild animals through the night. Light moving across the flat landscape was a welcome sign.
“You’ll hear animals through the night. They’re going to sound very close, but sound travels a long way here.”
That was the last thing our guide said to us before the group separated into their respective tents. It had been raining, a hard rain as reported in an earlier post, so our fly sheets were on. They were heavy with an almost rubbery feel. It didn’t take long until people emerged in the darkness, flashlights in hand, to remove the stifling material. The fear of another downpour led to discussions on whether to leave it on, leave them half on or take them completely off. My tent mate and I settled on taking it all the way off, but laying it down carefully so it could be pulled up rapidly if need be.
Following this we turned to the darkness. A quick waft of the flashlight revealed a disturbing number of glinting eyes – presumably hippos. Hippos that were already on land and probably only 50 meters from us – they looked back, not moving. I guess they were content to munch away on the long grass surrounding us. With this revelation we returned to our tents. Now, nothing but a thin mesh separated us from the elements, and the wild animals. To be honest, this is exactly what I was after. Why sleep in the bush if you’re just going to lock yourself away? Also, it was much cooler this way.
Just as I dozed off to sleep I was startled by the trumpeting of an elephant. It sounded like it had to be on the same island as us but I repeated the mantra “they sound closer than they are” and drifted off to sleep. I was woken regularly through the night by every noise you feel like a night in the African bush should provide. I heard hyenas, lions, more elephant trumpets, and hippos grunting. This was always punctuated by an eerie silence that you knew would be broken at any moment.
My tent-mate, however, was fortunate enough to be awake for our closest encounter. Having been on an elephant back safari just days before he was finely tuned to recognize the sound of elephant dung hitting the ground. He woke up to feel the ground moving and quickly recognized the thudding. It didn’t take long for him to conclude that an elephant was crapping right next to our tent. I asked if he’d turned on his light to take a look, but the closeness rendered him incapable of moving.
We awoke to a red sky, having survived the night, and exchanged the stories of sounds I’ve just recanted here. Then we hopped out to check the area. Sure enough, there was fresh dung right next to our tent.
Following this discovery I set about capturing the sun rise. I’ve got a lot of photos of this scene from the night before. I’m not happy with any of them. This morning, I took only one photo of this scene, and I’m thrilled by it. I find that I’m always happiest with photos I’ve had to wait to take. For this one, I identified where I thought that sun would be coming up, framed up the picture and waited. I waited for quite a while and the sky was pretty blue all the way across. I began to wonder if I’d misjudged the location of the sunrise and somehow missed it. Then the glow intensified and I knew it was about to peak over the horizon. 7 exposures later and I was packing up my gear.
As the sun sets on Lake Kivu the sound of the fisherman making their way out onto the lake, rain or shine, can be heard at the Paradis Malahide Hotel. As you’ve seen in previous posts, here and here, this was a sign that it was time for me to grab my gear and run down the road to the docks.
For some reason this canoe was left behind by the fleet, which can be seen on the horizon. This was lucky for me as I’d gotten to the dock a touch later than planned. This photo allows you to see how these triple hulled canoes are held together.
This is a combination of 7 exposures bracketed from -3 to +3. I’ve started using Photoshop to align the images prior to processing in Photomatix and have been surprised to discover that, even when using my tripod, more often than not they are out of alignment.
After a day on a bus, from Livingstone to the Lower Zambezi, we arrived at our home for the night, Zambezi Breezers. Upon arriving it was immediately clear where we would be spending our evening. This shot is taken on a deck built out over the banks of the Zambezi.
Sitting and relaxing, as the sun retired, we watched chartered fishing boats make their way back to their respective lodges and locals make their daily commute home by canoe. They all traveled the crocodile and hippo infested waters with the same manner of craft. They were very simple and appeared to be made from one tree trunk. The back-end seemed to always be submerged and while paddling they let their legs dangle over the sides into the water.
After yesterday’s difficulty getting inspired to process any photos I came home over my lunch-break and decided to work on a photo that I’ve attempted and failed at a few times in the past. Finally, I think I’ve cracked it. Incidentally, does anyone know what the flowers in this photo are called?
This is another photo from the Paradis Malihide. Rising early, in the hopes of capturing the sun as it peeked over the horizon, I discovered that it was, once again, completely overcast. I never figured out where the sun rose and where it set while there because the cloud cover was so thick. Nonetheless, it was still a beautiful spot and I wasn’t going to let the clouds stop me. So, I went in search of photos where the sky didn’t have to be a prominent feature. I came across this scene and thought it was a great subject for HDR. It’s almost like two images, allowing your eye to wander over the flowers in the foreground before moving on to look at the boat and the hills in the distance.
People would arrive on package tours and pile into this little boat to cruise off down the lake. Navigate here to get ready properly for such a cruise. It was amazing how many people they stuffed into this thing. It was an interesting contrast watching the tourists in their bright orange life-jackets motoring back in for a nice dinner while the fishermen in dark rain jackets, t-shirts or shirtless plied their oars and sang their songs on their way for another chilly, wet night out on the lake.
I’m not a package tour person, probably because I don’t like being herded around. We spend enough time in our working lives getting told what to do. Why go off on holiday and do the same? I met a couple of Californian guys while in Prague who had embraced this concept. They’d decided they needed a break and managed to negotiate three weeks off – supposedly no easy feat in the US – to head for Europe. When I ran into them all they had planned was their flight home from Amsterdam. I spent about an hour eating lunch with them as they tried to figure out their next destination. They’d narrowed it down to Germany when I arrived, and hadn’t gotten much further when I eventually left. Once I ran into them later, at about 9pm, it was sorted. They were leaving at 6am on their way to Hanover. It’s a great way to travel, waking up in one place, not knowing where you’ll be the next day.
As mentioned before, our 3 week journey through 3 countries in Africa ended with two days of relaxation at the Paradis Malihide in Gisenyi. It was the perfect way to unwind. This is another photo of the fishermen making their way out onto Lake Kivu, to work their nets through the night in search of talapia and little black sambassa. They have to fish with nets because, as Cameron discovered after an hour casting his fly into the lake, these are the only two types of fish in the lake and neither of them is carnivorous. Once Cameron discovered this, he turned to teaching one of the waiters how to fly cast. Across the lake, through the haze, you can see the hills of the Democratic Republic of the Congo.
It’s hard to leave Water Horse Safari’s Fly Camp on the Zambezi river after 3 nights there. It’s got the best showers in the world. You stand there with a chest height wall around you and solar warmed river water pouring over you. At the same time you’re spotting wildlife running past in the clearing ahead of you. They’ve got toilets, welcome after a night in the bush. They’ve got a table under a canopy and they have two-men mesh tents with comfy single beds in them. Square meals were prepared nightly and wine, poured from a bag, was available. Perfect.
Each morning we woke up to the sounds of grunting hippos and this view across to Zimbabwe. It doesn’t get much better than that.
Our last day paddling our way down the meandering Lower Zambezi was an exciting one. By now, the surroundings were familiar and comfortable. Working in tandem to navigate the river was almost second nature. It even became easier to suppress the fear of crocodiles that occasionally welled up in my mind. This was despite coming closer to the eerily calm reptiles than we ever had before. As we approached midday, we spotted a group of elephants on an island. After paddling into a small inlet, and walking a very short distance, we were approximately 30 feet away. The elephants acknowledged our presence, but continued munching away and even moved closer. I was completely focused on grabbing a good photo. Once I realized that most people had already moved on to return to the canoes I turned to follow. It turned out that we weren’t departing. Our guides had prepared lunch for us, the usual beautiful fresh salad to accompany the most processed meat in the world. They were some form of Frankfurter, but were fluorescent pink on the outside and white in the middle. So, we ate and watched the elephants munch their way back across to the other side of the island. Then, they started to head to the water and we followed. They took the plunge and meandered their way down the Lower Zambezi.
I’ve called this photo Safe Harbour, but that’s probably debatable. It was taken the morning after our first night camping on the Lower Zambezi. The day before, after a few hours of paddling, we’d had a taste of the upcoming rainy season. Clouds loomed and bellowed across the sky. We saw rain falling in front of us and behind. It was also raining to our left, where the storm was coming from. Debate raged, while the wind picked up, as to whether or not it was heading directly at us or would pass just behind. Our Zimbabwean guide, called CB, quelled the debate. He was a soft-spoken individual, typical of the people we’d met during our time on the border of Zambia and Zimbabwe. He told us we’d be making camp an hour earlier than planned. The storm was heading straight for us and the strong winds increased our chance of capsizing. We began to paddle a bit harder than the previously relaxed pace of the day. The landing spot pictured above came into sight and CB gestured for us to head in. At this point, we experienced just how terrifying an angry hippo can be.
“Paddle! Paddle! Paddle!”
CB was suddenly animated and we spun around in our seats to see what was happening. The second-last canoe was moving faster than I knew a canoe could. I swear it was actually on a plane, the nose rising and falling with each paddle-stroke as it ploughed through the water. About five feet behind was a hippo, surging through the water with it’s head bobbing up and down with each forward thrust. We’d find out later that, apparently, one of the people in the last canoe struck what he thought was a rock with his paddle. As you can probably guess, it was a submerged hippopotamus – the creature second in line to the mosquito for causing the most deaths per year in Africa. The chase probably spanned about 15-20 feet or so, before the hippo calmed down, but it definitely gave us a taste of what we’d gotten ourselves into.
Once we reached land and pulled our canoes ashore, the rain set in. Most of us had rain jackets. Chris and I had lightweight rain jackets that didn’t shield you from the impact of the rain, and this was rain like I’ve never experienced. It was coming in sideways and the drops must have been the size of marbles. You could feel the impact of every single one. We were better off than George though, an Aussie we’d met back in Livingstone who decided to join us. He’d left his rain jacket on a bus a few months earlier and, not having any need for one in the dry season, hadn’t replace it. Four of us stood next to each other, with our backs to the onslaught, for him to hunker down in front of us and try to stay dry. It didn’t work very well. The rain didn’t take long to pass and we set about making camp.
It quickly became evident that this would be an interesting night. We were setting up on sand, amongst dried elephant and hippo dung. As it turned out, the grassy, muddy field behind us was a popular night-time feeding place for elephants and hippos. On top of this, it was hot. Keeping the fly sheet on the tent was not an option, so we slept with nothing but a mesh tent separating us from the outdoors.
A quick wave of our flashlights revealed the startling close glint of eyes in the darkness and we settled in for the night. Just prior to falling asleep I heard the trumpet of an elephant. It sounded like it was right outside the tent. I remembered CB’s advice that we would hear animals and they would sound far closer than they really were. With this in mind, I drifted off to sleep. I woke up a few times in the night, once to the sound of hyenas, another to the sound of lions, and repeated the mantra that they could be heard form a great distance away. I drifted off comfortably each time.
However, we had at least one very close encounter. In the morning, my tent mate Chris told me he’d woken up to the unmistakable thud of elephant dung hitting the ground. We’d become accustomed to this sound on our elephant-back safari a few days earlier. He said he actually felt the vibrations of it hitting the ground. Sure enough, we found a fresh deposit just outside our tent. I only wish he’d woken me up so I could try to shine a light outside and spot one. This might be why he didn’t wake me up.
As I mentioned this photo was taken in the morning, just before the sun came up. I’ve combined 7 exposures from -3 to +3 in Photomatix and then cleaned it up in Photoshop.
On day four of our canoe safari on the Lower Zambezi most of our group was enjoying a lazy afternoon snoozing in the shade or fishing. For a few of us, boredom set in and we decided that it was time to go for a swim. It may seem like a simple activity, but when you’re surrounded by hippos and crocodiles you err on the side of caution. We had a chat with our guide who said that we’d be safe in the shallows of this sand bar on the opposite side of the river. So, we piled into the canoes and made our way upstream before cutting across to the island.
It all went smoothly until we got close to the island and realized that what we thought was a rock was a hippo. A hippo that seemed to enjoy disappearing underwater and popping up in a completely new location. Our three days of canoeing experience told us that as we moved into the shallows the hippo would head for deep water. Fortunately for us this is exactly what happened and we pulled our canoes ashore.
We knew that we could swim off the sandbar. What we didn’t ask was where off the sandbar. The area where we pulled our canoes ashore was deep and we knew we couldn’t swim there. Everybody began wandering around our private island looking for shallow water and I began looking for a photo. There was this small pool of water which lent itself nicely to catching a reflection of the mountains in the background. In order to maximize the amount of reflection I set my camera up as low as I could.
If you click on the image and open up a larger version you can see our campsite in the middle of the far bank. It was a great place to spend three nights. I’ll be posting the morning view from our tent soon.
