We are moving on to our next and final camp, which Bibi says is his favourite. So we had our usual 06:00 wake-up call and bed roll packing, followed by breakfast. I’m being very naughty and eating toast with peanut butter all the time.

At 07:30 with the trailer once again in tow, Bibi set off apparently still intent on finding a Leopard. We drove around a few places, even an airfield for some socializing [“ehhh”], without success though we did see another pair of Wild Dogs, albeit at a little distance across some water. Decent compensation.

After crossing a bridge that seemed to be built of boy scout pioneering poles [memories of a misspent youth], we eventually arrived at our new campsite at 13:00. We could see why Bibi might think it was his favourite. The site itself was quite open and immediately across the “road” was a Hippo pool. Hmmm. Having Hippos in such close proximity was a bit of a surprise but it’s an official campsite so presumably safe, given sensible precautions. A mother and calf were out of the water on the opposite bank. It’s quite delightful. Hopefully the noises at night would prove interesting.

The afternoon game drive proved exceptional. After chatting to a few other drivers [“ehhh”], as we were making our way along one track, Francine found herself just a few metres away from a magnificent Leopard that appeared to be using a termite mound as a vantage point to look for dinner. If you can yell softly, she yelled “stop” softly, hoping not to alarm it. It was close to the side of our truck. We were beside ourselves; what a spectacular creature. It sat looking around for a while before eventually climbing down to move off.

There was another vehicle behind us which, of course, broadcast the find over the radio. As news spread and the Leopard moved off behind us, we began to be joined by other jeeps. Bibi had to do an about turn to follow.

There was a  large group of Impala on the far side of this patch of grassy meadow. We were soon following on with half a dozen or so other vehicles. Amazingly, the Leopard seemed totally unfazed and crouched low moving forward with undulating shoulder blades as it used the grass for cover to stalk the antelope.

Jeeps continued to turn up and we eventually counted 15 or 16. It seemed a bit obscene, really, and we were hoping the poor old Leopard, which still appeared unbothered, wouldn’t lose out on a meal. I’d have liked to see the hunt conclude but we moved off and left the convoy to it.

During a brief comfort stop at the park gate we heard that the Leopard had indeed made a successful kill. We returned to the scene and found the Leopard hauling a fully grown female Impala through the grass. The Leopard had a cub somewhere and would need to stash dinner in a tree to avoid losing it. The Impala was noticeably bigger and the Leopard could only manage 10 or so steps before needing to pause and rest.

Nature red in tooth and claw. I know there’s a poor ol’ Impala that had been killed but this is life in the wild and it had been a privilege to watch such a magnificent predator doing what it does best. There was still a second jeep with us but light was now fading fast and we both soon left the Leopard to continue bringing home the bacon for its cub.

Our own meal seemed mundane by comparison. It was, though, still well prepared over the good old wood camp fire: spaghetti Bolognese with what seemed like stir-fried coleslaw (and why not?). Yet more custard appeared along with some fruit salad, this time.

What a stunning Leopard. Bibi had invested considerable effort in trying to track down a Leopard several times but to no avail, until now.

With less zips going throughout the night due to inventive in-tent toilet facilities having been fashioned, we did hear a few more sounds of the African night. Our camp was relatively close to a water channel and the occasional grunt of a hippo drifted in. In the early hours of the morning we were surrounded by the excited, fast chattering of ground birds in the bush which, we think, were some kind of Francolin.

Take that with a pinch of salt, though, ‘cos I originally thought this was a Francolin but it’s actually a Red-billed Spurfowl (Pternistis adspersus).

There’s a lot of effort put into finding a Leopard; these fabulous solitary cats really are the main celebrities. After another 06:00 wake-up call which we didn’t really need courtesy of the bird cacophony, we left soon after 07:00 to try again. We did have a quick drive around the local environs but were soon heading out of the park gates to return to where a Leopard had supposedly been sighted yesterday.

On the road there’s a lot of pausing to chat to drivers of other safari vehicles coming in the opposite direction. This is both social and the bush information sharing system. Many of the drivers knew Bibi, whose reputation seemed to precede him. There’s an etiquette to the drivers’ talking, involving muttering “ehhh”, quite frequently. Muttering “ehhh” softly while the other chap is talking is polite and shows respect by demonstrating that you are listening.

While we’re loosely on the subject of language, Botswana is the country whose local language is Setswana, with the people being Batswana [plural] and Motswana [singular]. Tswana is the ethnic group. [ehhh]

Once again, Leopard was there none. It’s about time I included a Zebra, though. There are three species of Zebra in Africa, those in this area being Burchell’s Zebra, which is a subspecies of the Plains Zebra. These’re the ones with the fainter so-called shadow stripe between the bold black stripes. In Namibia you can find Mountain Zebra which lack the shadow stripe. Grevy’s Zebra further north are the now endangered fine-striped pyjama jobs, restricted to the horn of Africa: northern Kenya and southern and eastern Ethiopia.

We happened across another bathing Hippo that was intent on showing us how fine its dentition was and another Saddle-billed Stork that displayed the splendid markings on the aforementioned bill. What I hadn’t noticed before was the yellow patch above what I assume is the black “saddle”.

The afternoon game drive produced a good example of some interesting behaviour. A Yellow-billed Stork was working a modest water body. At a couple of points it extended one or both of its wings as it peered into the water. I have seen this technique before; the extended wing shields the water surface from the bright sunlight and helps the bird see prey beneath. Clever.

Looking as if it fancied being “Monarch of the Savannah”, a handsome Red Lechwe struck a pose for us.

We got back to camp at 19:00 for a freshen up before dinner. Finally I had to charge three batteries, two in the M1X and one in the M1. I’d found I’d been using both cameras, really the lenses, a 300 prime and a 40-150 zoom, in almost equal measure. Power bank #1 came out and did the job nicely, once I’d realized that I needed to use a straight USB C to C cable to recharge in camera. Bibi looked interested in the set-up on the dinner table.

Turning the cameras off while they’re sitting in your lap makes a big difference. This is because they activate the electronic viewfinder if they think your eye gets close, in other words when light is cut off from the viewfinder. Putting a camera in your lap whilst in the truck causes the viewfinder to be darkened by your body and so the viewfinder gets powered up wastefully. We were going to have no trouble with power running out. We’d got far too many power banks. Still, better safe than sorry. I actually found that the camera activated more quickly on the power switch than it did with a half-press of the shutter, too.

Dinner was roast chicken, rice and butternut squash but the star turn had to be what went with our now customary custard: pears with mint chocolate biscuits. This time it was warm, too. Very adventurous.

Another wash-basin-filling 06:00 alarm call to get on the road by 07:30. Today we are off to the Moremi Game Reserve for 2 nights at camp #3.

This would be just 135kms which is just as well over the very sandy and bumpy roads beginning with another short game drive but then, since we’re driving out of one wildlife park and into another, we would, wouldn’t we? 🙂

We came across an impressive male Lion which was surrounded by the usual press of jeeps. The local lodge jeeps all have radios and as soon as something interesting is spotted, word goes out and the hoards descend. When we first arrived, Leo was lying in the road but very soon decided enough was enough and retired to the sanctuary of a rocky hill for some peace and quiet.

As we were checking out a water hole, a herd of Elephant decided they would check it out, too. They appeared to be in something of a hurry to get to the water. Then they appeared to be more interested in us than the water. Worrying. Game drives with the luggage trailer in tow because you’re moving house can be interesting. Bibi is quite adept at reversing with the trailer to get out of tight spots. Bibi now displayed his prowess and turned us around so we could make a getaway should it become necessary. Later he thought the matriarch had been concerned about the water quality and was actually just dissuading her herd from drinking.

We didn’t feel at all threatened next when we stopped beside a colony of Dwarf Mongooses. [Apparently Mongeese is an acceptable plural but Mongooses is more prevalent.] They’re captivating little chaps … if you aren’t on their menu.

Our 13:00 lunch stop was out in very open savannah; decidedly big sky country. There was a shimmering heat haze in the distance which produced some interesting optical effects on three Giraffes which very thoughtfully were wandering along the horizon. I thought I’d try something a bit different. It really needs to be big to see the effect so it may or may not work.

Bibi had originally thought we’d make camp at 15:00. That was before another guide told him of a Leopard sighting. Off we set, trailer and all. We drove in and out of bushes, into some dead ends, searching but in vain. More Bibi trailer reversing skills were needed a few times to get us back on track.

We eventually made camp in Moremi at about 16:15. This was a very pleasant camp site with the tents in their usual horseshoe arrangement but this camp came complete with something I think Bibi called “sticky grass”. I’ve found something called Sticky Bristle Grass or Velcro Grass (Setaria verticellata) that may be the culprit. Trainers, their laces, trousers, all got affected by the spikey seeds. You think you’re being careful but look down and your shoes are covered. Try to pick them off and they stick to your skin, too. I found flicking them off my hand with a fingernail quite effective.

We revived ourselves with a very welcome shower and enjoyed an hour or so down time. We hadn’t had much. Some of our ladies were a bit envious of Francine’s Peebols and came up with an inventive solution of their own. Using an empty 5ltr water container, they cut a good sized hole in one side, I think with nail scissors. This made a very effective overnight potty with the spout and screw cap even working as an emptying mechanism in the morning. They even used micropore tape to cover the rough cut edges, which looked decidedly uncomfortable. Cases of lacerated labia would’ve been very nasty. With eight ladies on the trip, empty 5ltr water containers became a tradable commodity and a cottage industry sprang up.

The African sunset painter was at it again, keeping us entertained before a dinner of pork stroganoff, pasta and stir-fried veggies. The custard came with pears, this time.

The candles on our dining table were attracting flies which, in turn, were attracting a rather charming little Mantis. It was only 2-3cms long. Needs must – here’s a crappy phone camera picture. I don’t think this will be detailed enough to id but it is cute … if you’re not a fly.

Another 06:00 Bibi alarm sounded. Today were leaving this camp near Kasane and heading for Savuti, so we had to pack not only our kit bags but also our sleeping kit back into the bag it came in. Given a reasonably orderly mind, I went for the “fold the sleeping bag and blanket” approach before stuffing in my pillow. I did manage to make it fit but received wisdom is “just stuff everything in”. Then I remembered being told to do just that by the salesman when I had bought my sleeping bag for Australia. “Don’t try to fold it, just stuff it into its bag”.

Anyway, there was plenty of room so all was well. With 10 identical bags, we had to attach something personal to the sleeping roll to ensure that we got the same one at the other end.

Savuti was to be a 1-night stop only. It was really to break the journey to the following stop, that being too far to do in one day. Rasta and Ona had to break down the Kasane camp, get to Savuti ahead of us and set up the camp camp there, including, of course, digging two new toilet pits.

To give Rasta and Ona more time, we began the 170kms trip with a morning game drive which was a circuitous route out of the park at his location.

The most interesting wildlife en route seemed to be birds. Here’re a couple of cases in point. These are two Lapwings (a.k.a. Plovers). The one with the large, prominent yellow wattles is a White-crowned Lapwing (Vanellus albiceps). The one with the smaller, less significant wattles is the African Wattled Lapwing (Vanellus senegallus). GO figure, as they say in America,  Aren’t common names wonderful?

As well as Lapwings, Storks, of which Africa has several, proved quite popular. We passed a gang of Marabou Storks (Leptoptilos crumeniferus) and saw our first, rather magnificently marked Saddle-billed Stork (Ephippiorhyncus senegalensis), though I have to say that its common name at least looks logical and is rather easier to say than its scientific name.

A small collection of African Spoonbills (Platalea alba) at last provided me an opportunity for some reasonably clear pictures. I’d seen a Spoonbill sweeping its beak back and forth at Hondo in Spain but it never presented itself well. Here, one even tried a quite balletic move for me.

Eventually we left the Chobe National Park and hit the road to Savuti. When I say road, it’s a loose term. The tarmac stopped quite quickly and we got onto tracks of soft sand. At the bottom of a particularly soft area going up a decent incline was a sign saying, “select 2nd gear and put foot”. Bibi duly “put his foot” and we arrived at the top to see a witty second sign. How the mighty have fallen. No place for Chelsea tractors in this part of Africa, maybe.

Savuti was home to something quite special. Since we were to be there for only one night but were all keen to see it, Bibi suggested that we go straight to the spot rather than go to the new camp first; there wouldn’t really be time otherwise.

Our celebrity was the African Wild Dog (a.k.a. African Painted Dog or African Hunting Dog) and Savuti held a den including puppies. We arrived at the den at 15:00.to see a huddle of puppies relaxing above ground outside the den. What I assume were the alpha male and female were lying down nearby. The pups were utterly captivating and here is an animal that still looks attractive as an adult.

We arrived at a good time and had the den all to ourselves for an hour. Bibi eventually drove a short distance around a corner where more adults were lying down, one sporting a sizeable radio collar, something that doesn’t help photography. It’s a good thing, though, these delightful animals are endangered with numbers declining so study and protection are vital.

Other trucks began arriving so observation wouldn’t have been as good had we been any later. This was proved when a pair of Cheetah, lying in long grass, were surrounded by three trucks leaving us little room to see. The idiots in one of the trucks holding pole position weren’t even looking, rather they simply occupied the spot whilst chatting over sundowners and nibbles. Arseholes!

Even had we had a better spot, photos of Cheetahs buried in grass would not have been very worthwhile. We had much better luck a little distance away where we watched a Secretary Bird working the grassland. These are elegant, large birds, up to 1.5m, that hunt snakes. It would’ve been too good to see that happen but it just strutted its stuff.

Clearly my conversion to birder was continuing.

Our diversion made the day very long and quite tiring, considering the original drive would have been a mere 170kms, but the privilege of seeing African Wild Dogs was absolutely worth it. We finally arrived at our new camp at about 18:30 just after dark, so no showers. We freshened up in the hand basins before enjoying the steak with pepper sauce, mashed potato and sweetcorn that Rasta and Ona had prepared for us. Well done men.

My diarist does not record what we had with our custard. 😆

We’d been given warnings of how cold the African night might be. This, after all, is winter in Botswana. Winter? Temperatures get up to the low to mid 20s Centigrade in the day but sink into single figures at night. That sounds like the kind of winter I could cope with. I must say that we had not found our first night cold and were quite comfortable in just the supplied modest sleeping bag. A blanket was also provided and there were other travel blankets in the Landcruiser if necessary, though their main purpose was to wrap you up on an early morning game drive in the open-sided truck.

Just prior to Covid-19 hitting town, I had made a camping trip to Australia in a much smaller tent to hunt dragonflies. Not wishing to struggle in and out of my very small tent overnight, for that trip I had invested in an overnight urine bottle which had proved invaluable. For a man, it can be used lying down – just roll over sideways. I used it again here to avoid leaving the tent. It’s less easy for ladies, of course, but Francine had discovered some similar female assistance called Peebols. Peebols by Shewee are essentially a sealable 1ltr plastic bag containing chemicals that form a gel. These can be disposed of in the garbage. Both devices worked well for us; Francine was content at not having to worry about eyes glowing in the night.

In truth, the racket caused by tent zips being undone at night for others to leave for a pee really should be enough to frighten off any wandering pack of hyenas. One of the attractions of a tented safari as opposed to a (more expensive) lodge safari is lying listening to the African night. I had been somewhat disappointed at hearing little but zips in the darkness.

The African night in the bush is black; very black. Light pollution was there none but we were graced with a bright moon nearing full – “waxing gibbous” if you want to be posh. This was the kind of moon that casts strong shadows so, once out of the tent, vision wouldn’t be a problem. You can see bugger all in the tent, though, which is made of heavy duty dark green canvas. We had come equipped with head torches which leave both hands free to sort out clothing, etc. Handheld torches aren’t very helpful, as I was to find out, because they leave you one-handed. Riffling through a kitbag full of packing cubes with only one hand is at best awkward.

We were roused by an 06:00 “alarm” of “good morning” when canvas wash basins were dosed with hot water from the camp fire. Four thermos flasks provided tea and coffee to complete the awakening process. Instant coffee is against my religion so it would be tea for the duration. The tea was Five Roses and was actually very good. I got used to drinking it black to avoid UHT milk. There was cereal and yogurt, toast, jam and peanut butter – be still my beating heart. We were off on a morning game drive at 07:00.

Returning to the banks of the Chobe River, what a change there was from the previous evening. Where there had been large gatherings of Elephant and Buffalo, now the river bank was all but empty.We did happen across a large troop of Baboons nearby grooming but otherwise being quite lazy. As is often the case with animals, the young are very cute but they lose a lot of their PR in adulthood.

We headed for a comfort break location where Francine had fallen for some now unused huts. These were around a corner but she was granted a small wander. Another guide was less than happy that she was off on her own but Bibi reckoned it was fine because “he wouldn’t like the paperwork” if it wasn’t. He went and chaperoned her just to be sure. The area was used as a lunch stop for some lodge groups, complete with their silver service, and a Crested Barbet (never heard of it) looking for scraps gave me something to concentrate on [just ignore the concrete perch] while Francine was off getting creative with her huts.

Before returning to brunch at 11:00, along with a few other vehicles we followed a wandering group of Lions. They were hidden by trees for much of the time but eventually broke out to run up a slope in front of the river.

Brunch was scrambled eggs, sausages, bacon, beans and salad. I could get very used to this. Botswana is beef country so the sausages were beef; very good, though.

The afternoon was taken up with what, according to many clients, had been their highlight of this trip: a 3-hour boat trip along the Chobe River to see the wildlife from the water. We drove back into Kasane to board Mike’s boat.

We were not disappointed, it was, indeed, great, and Mike was knowledgeable and informative. The Chobe River here forms the border between Botswana and Namibia. There had been a dispute over one of the channels of the river which had taken international efforts to resolve.

It’s difficult to know where to start. The late afternoon crowds of Elephants were back drinking and bathing. One youngster was in a great hurry running to join in.

Mike found a group of Hippos, mostly out of the water grazing on some ground between the now undisputed channels. Well, given the size of them, they’d be difficult to miss. The Hippos, of course, didn’t care what country they were in. Everybody wants a photograph of a Hippo with its mouth wide open and one obliged by yawning in our direction. How very considerate of it.

I must be becoming a birder [arghh, no!] because one particular bird, something I never expected to see, was a decided highlight. On one of the sandy islands in the river was a small breeding colony of African Skimmers. These are very unlikely looking birds whose lower mandible is far longer than their upper mandible. When they live up to their name and skim you see why – they open their beak and fly just above the surface with the lower mandible in the water. They’re a bugger to photograph because their beady little black eye is buried in the black plumage of the upper part of their head. When the light is in the wrong direction, as in this skimming shot, forget it. It was a thrill, though. [Sad puppy.]

Now we needed a major shop. Kasane was to be our last shopping opportunity for 6 days. Our advice was to drink 3ltrs of liquid each a day. That’s 36ltrs needed for a couple. It’s a lot of liquid with restricted loo breaks, and there’d be camp tea as well, so Francine and I purchased 4 x 5ltr containers of water. Having looked enviously at others drinking beer and wine, we raided the local “offie” for 6 bottles of assorted wine, too. With another 8 folks in a similar situation, our vehicle was getting full. On the road, though, it pulled a trailer into which our luggage and stores were loaded.

Back for dinner: chilli (though there wasn’t much chilli involved – that always requires care with a mixed bunch) accompanied by rice and butternut squash to boost the veggie content. We were beginning to wonder what would accompany our custard; the answer today was guava.

Today we start what most people would regard as the wildlife safari itself; we were heading into the Chobe National Park for the big stuff which meant crossing a border once again. This time we were leaving Zambia and back into Botswana again. Crossing in this direction seemed to be a little quieter and we were soon under way. We were heading west towards Kasane, situated on a bend of the Chobe River.

The Explore! trip notes are clearly old and out of date since they mention a ferry across the river. We did see the old ferry paraphernalia as we sped across the super Kazungula Bridge. Apparently this was built by the South Korean Daewoo E&C and jointly financed by the Japan Internationals Cooperation Agency and African Development Bank. Makes a change from selling your soul to the Chinese which seemed to be story in Namibia a few years ago.

This was to be a tented camping safari and we’d be staying on official HATAB campsites. Our accommodation was (technically) 4-man “Kalahari” tents. Tent capacity is always based upon what will fit in with scant regard to comfort. These were to be set up and managed by two “camp boys” which sounds a bit denigrating so let’s call them by their names, Rasta and Ona [sp?]. Rasta and Ona would also prepare all our food over an open camp fire. After a stop in Kasane for a day’s worth of supplies, including a pack of knee plasters, we entered Chobe and its dirt roads at about midday.

We were starting in one respect the most worrisome part of our trip – 7 days with absolutely no mains power. Our main concern was, of course, recharging camera batteries. We’d ensured everything was fully charged at Livingstone and, on flight mode, I’d use my phone for GPS locations of our camps. If that runs out, who cares. 😆

Francine and I had bought 6 x 20,000 mAh Anker power banks giving us 3 each. Mirrorless camera systems are considerably more power hungry than older DSLR mirrored systems because the Electronic Viewfinder [EVF] has to be driven. A battery is around 2,000 mAh. Physics gets in the way and means that you don’t get back the whole of the charge in a power bank; we might get 6 recharges from one. If the camera batteries run out, I’ll just watch. 😉

I had changed some of my camera settings to be as frugal with power as possible:

1. GPS off (on the M1X);
2. single AF instead of continuous (tracks focus constantly – fine for big stuff);
3. don’t review images taken – click and forget.

In the afternoon, we’d start seeing how we get on though signs from birding on the houseboat were favourable, and that had even included tracking some birds in flight.

Other precautions: we’d both got 2 x camera bodies and planned to use each with a dedicated lens. This is dry season and it’s very dusty. Changing lenses and exposing the sensor to the elements would be a bad move.

We arrived at our first campsite, 40kms west of Kasane, at about 13:00. Francine and I grabbed the leftmost tent which proved to be reasonably spacious for two given all the stuff we had to cram in: 2 x large holdalls and 2 x camera rucksacks. The tents were arranged in a horseshoe. The camp beds are quite low; about 30cms off the deck. Getting down isn’t a problem but getting back up again could be an issue for some of our less mobile companions.

In addition, our camps include 2 x toilet tents (hole in the ground with seat above) and 2 x shower tents (metal bucket filled with hot water from the camp fire, delivered through a rose welded into the bottom and controlled by a tap). We’d used this arrangement in Kenya 20+ years ago and it works well. Having arrived, Francine and I, being old hands, blazed a trail and made sure we could still use a bucket shower.

At 16:00 we we started our first game drive. One of the ladies who joined us late is not into photography and she very helpfully offered to sit more or less permanently in one of the centre seats of a bank of three, leaving the side seats free for those with cameras. Had everyone wanted to click away with gay abandon, it would not have been quite so good. Francine and I made sure we had both sides of the truck covered, as did the other married couple.

Botswana is very well off for Elephants, about 120,000 of which are in Chobe. We drove out of camp to the banks of the Chobe river where many Elephant were gathering in groups for their evening drink. Some were enjoying dust baths. A large, lone individual demonstrated how to rip a trunk-load of vegetation out of a tree.

There were herds of Cape Buffalo lurking and peering. I couldn’t help but think of mimicking Out of Africa and shouting, “shoo!”. Robert Redford might’ve got away with it but not me.

We still had birds for some entertainment and few are quite as colourful as the Lilac-breasted Roller, one of which posed advantageously beside our truck. Trucks don’t often seem to frighten the quarry away, happily.

On our way back towards camp we happened across a small family group of Lions, including three cubs, who posed quite well, even if a little inactively. We did also see a pair of Honey Badgers mostly hiding amongst trees so, alas, the same could not be said for them. ‘T was nice to see them, though. Honey Badgers have a reputation for being very aggressive.

Whoever is in charge of painting the skies at sunset in this country is doing a pretty spectacular job.  Staring and wondering on the return to camp is obligatory. Clicking can be awkward given low light and high ISOs but you just can’t help yourself. It has to be done.

Arriving back at camp at 18:30, we were greeted by a welcoming camp fire and a dining table positioned beneath a canvas shelter and illuminated by candles. Very romantic. Our first camp dinner lovingly prepared by Rasta and Ona was chicken stew with veggies and potatoes. This was impressive cooking over an open wood fire. Desert was a little easier: tinned peaches with yet another carton of custard. I was getting quite hooked on custard.

And so to bed. For our first night under canvas, instructions were given for visits to the toilet tents: turn on your torch and wave it about. If you see any eyes glowing in the dark, think better of it and wait a while. Discretion is definitely the better part of valour in the African bush. Bibi was not keen on the paperwork that would be necessary for a lost tourist.

This morning was time to visit Victoria Falls, or “the smoke that thunders”, which is a translation of the name used by the native Kalolo-Lozi people before David Livingstone found them. The “smoke”, of course, is the enormous amount of water spray caused by the water going over its precipitous drop into the gorge. We could see it in the morning looking downstream from our Waterfront Hotel vantage point. Since I had only long lenses with me, here’s a particularly naff phone shot grabbed in haste.

Having driven us to the Falls visitor area – ponchos available for rent – Bibi was particularly alarmed that I was going to carry my camera into the smoke. He was also concerned that my waterproof wasn’t – “this is the falls, not just rain”. He located a black plastic wrapping and bound my wallets, passport, pen, Covid-19 vaccination certificate and anything else he could find in my pockets for protection. He probably hasn’t met Scottish rain. My M1X should be fine; you can throw buckets of water at it.

I’d got the long lens in case any insects showed themselves in the vegetation. I needn’t have bothered.

Neither Francine nor I had been particularly fussed about Victoria Falls but as it turned out we were both very impressed and loved seeing it. Happily Francine did have an appropriate lens. In truth, the water spray really wasn’t as bad as its reputation would have had us believe. We didn’t venture to some of the wetter parts, though. Here’s the thing: the geography is very strange. I expected a sort of high plateau off of which the water would plunge to land at a lower level on the other side. It’s not like that, though; the land “on the other side” is just as high but the water falls into a narrow and very deep gorge. Standing on “the wet side” facing the width of the falls is all very well but you can’t actually see the expanse through the mist. You get saturated but for no very good reason. It’s best looking along the falls, IMHO, from the earlier vantage points on the walk and staying dry. Alternatively, cough up the $500 for a chopper trip.

After lunch it was time to go dragonfly hunting on our chalet’s little pond. Given the lack of wandering about the African bush out of camps due to similarly wandering lions, leopards, elephants and hippos, etc, this was highly likely to be my best chance.

It started well. Immediately before Covid reared its ugly head, I had booked a trip to Turkey hoping to see at least the delightful Red-veined Dropwing (Trithemis arteriosa). That trip had been our first Covid casualty. However, I was utterly delighted to find several examples on my pond. There was also a completely beautiful damselfly called the Common Citril/Orange (Ceriagrion glabrum), which was also new to me.

In all, we found 11 species new to us, 10 of which we managed to photograph but there was one that got away. I won’t bore you with all of them but here’s a couple of relatives which included an old friend from Namibia, the Portia Widow or Shadow-bridge Widow (Palpopleura portia), together with its new-to-me cousin, the Lucia Widow (Palpopleura lucia).

Unfortunately, I sustained a dragonflying injury when, returning to the side of my pond from a vantage point along the dam wall, I klutzily tripped up a step in the dam wall and dragonflew to the ground, going down on one knee. It’s not the first time and it doubtless won’t be the last. I saved the camera and monopod but not either my knee or trousers. The trousers were convertibles with the bottom half zipping off so, having ripped the knee out, I unzipped and now had a splendid new pair of shorts. To quote the late, great Douglas Adams on the art of flying:

The knack lies in learning how to throw yourself at the ground and miss.

I still haven’t mastered it. That was not quite the fall I had in mind today.

Despite my knee, I was a happy camper – well, hotel guest. Decidedly satisfied.

[5th July was getting a bit long so here’s an addendum covering a couple of days.]

I’m used to seeing birds following moving items. Seagulls often follow tractors ploughing fields and Francine and I have watched a gang of Black Kites similarly following a tractor in France. Seagulls are frequently seen flying along behind or beside a cross channel ferry, too.

So, watching Swallows zooming about over the Cubango River beside our houseboat, the Okavango Spirit, as she was moved slowly downstream to quieter moorings away from some Shakawe music, was no particular cause for comment.

[Incidentally, the Cubango River IS the Okavango River – Cubango is the Portuguese name given to it in Angola to the north where it rises. To keep the unforgettable and potentially unpronounceable information coming, the Okavango Delta, famously without an outflow into any other water body, is known as an endorheic basin, disappearing into the Kalahari Desert.]

In the UK we are used to Barn Swallows (Hirundo rustica) migrating from southern Africa to breed in our country and other parts of northern Europe. Their journey takes about 6 weeks and the little darlings have been doing this since before the Sahara was a desert. About 10,000 years ago what we know as the Sahara Desert was lush and green with plants and water bodies. Now our Swallows are forced to run the gauntlet and cross one of the more inhospitable places on the planet.

There are, though, many more types of swallow in southern Africa that do not make the perilous journey. Those zooming about our houseboat were clearly different. Whereas ours have a deep red “face”, these were Wire-tailed Swallows (Hirundo smithii) with a russet skull cap. Just as a seagull sometimes settles on a ship, these occasionally alighted on our houseboat which, having singularly failed to track their fast flight, was the only time I could get a picture of them. I saw them first sitting on the rear platform of the boat. When I went downstairs for a shower, one was sitting just feet away on a rail outside our cabin.

As Capt. Sam moved his Okavago Spirit back up stream in two stages, our seemingly constant companions remained with us. I still failed to get one flying but I did notice that they were zooming up to the “eaves” of the lounge/dining area on the upper deck of the boat. (Cabins were below.) I slid open one of the “patio” doors and realized that the birds were actually nesting on the boat. No wonder they were following it everywhere it went.

I did see birds disappearing below the rear platform of the boat, where my first suspect had been sitting, so I’m sure they were also nesting there, just inches above the water level.

While I’m on the subject of Swallows, completely out of sequence, here’s a trio of what I believe are Lesser-striped Swallows (Hirundo abyssinica) from a later campsite. Very elegant creatures.

It is not often that I am left mystified by food. However, our Maun hotel dinner menu had featured as accompanying options: chips, mashed potato or pap. Pap? More of that later.

We’d heard hippo noises overnight; well, in the smaller hours of morning, really. I did pop up on deck early and spotted the signs of one passing the houseboat heading downstream but little of it showed above the surface and when it did, it was only very briefly to draw breath.

This was a day of three parts.

After breakfast we headed downstream ourselves in the launch. We were soon overflown by a flight of White-faced Whistling Ducks. You can’t beat being in a new environment; no matter how common the species locally, they are all exciting to visitors.

The sides of the river were a rich source of birdlife and we had more species than you could shake a camera at. In Sri Lanka, 2019, before the accursed Covid-19, we’d seen the Asian Darter/Snakebird; now we saw lots of its African equivalent. These birds are a lot like a Cormorant but with a longer neck which, with their body submerged, makes them look like a snake swimming in the water.

A couple of species of the delightfully colourful Bee-eaters proved very numerous and, at the other end of the size scale, we saw a few African Fish Eagles, one of which decided we were disturbing its fishing and took flight.

We returned to the houseboat for brunch, including sausage, egg and baked beans – can’t be bad – at about 11:30.

I was granted permission to wander ashore, though not too far – as well as hippos, one does have to be careful of these chaps on the left – having spotted a couple of damselflies in the shore vegetation. One of these was an old friend from Namibia, the Massai Sprite (Pseudagrion massaicum) but the 2nd was a new species and not widespread, the Dark Sprite (Pseudagrion deningi), with its trademark green undersides to the eye.

In the afternoon Capt. Sam made a slow journey against the flow of the river back upstream to make tomorrow’s early departure easier. En route he took into tow an offical boat, maybe army or wardens, which had become stranded in the middle of the river. The crew of four was very grateful.

Having returned to our original moorings, we were back in the launch to travel further up river this time, largely in search of hippos, I subsequently discovered. We most certainly found them and at one point our launch was surrounded by a pod of 12 or so. Hippos are one of the most dangerous animals in Africa so it’s perhaps not surprising how vulnerable you suddenly feel with a family group of these large animals staring at you and getting closer.

There was another item on Bibi’s agenda and that was sunset. He’d done this so many times that he clearly knew how to time it and, having skilfully avoided being sunk by hippos, he now skilfully paused the launch in an open section just as the sun was sinking towards the western horizon.

And so to dinner. Today we were treated to steak accompanied by mashed potato, veggies and, yes, the mysterious pap. I hadn’t realized at the time but I had heard some of the pap preparation work – a rhythmic banging. Pap is pounded maizemeal boiled into a sort of porridge. Actually, it’s a lot like a white version of polenta though the latter has a rather more attractive name. I’m glad I’ve tasted it, these things must be done, but I’m not sure I’d rush back for seconds. For pudding there was guava and, yes, more custard. Not bad at all, their cartons of custard. 🙂

The last task of the evening was to set an alarm for 05:00 to depart at 06:00 on the next stage of our adventure. Tomorrow would be a long day.