African Safari

October 2, 2005
Aquila Private Game Reserve and Safari

Excerpt from Heather’s Journal:

Because we posted earlier than usual on the last entry I am going to start with a brief synopsis of what we did during the remaining hours on Saturday night before going to bed. When we returned to our room after posting on our blog we had the second field program packet awaiting us with an addendum of trips for Mauritius. There are a total of fourteen trips for Port Louis and we knew instantaneously which ones were a must. Mom and dad left some really great information about Mauritius in one of their comments and so we read the trips with some of these things in mind. We have decided to leave the first day free for shopping, beach time and anything else we feel is a must while on the island. Though I think that a day at the beach would be fantastic. On Monday, our second day, we have decided to sign up for Mystical and Colorful South Mauritius, which includes a visit to the dormant volcano, an extinct volcano that has since become a lake, waterfalls, flora and fauna, the Piton de la Petite, the highest point on the island, and the Chamarel Cascade to see the seven-colored earth. The trip will conclude with a visit to a coffee plantation and we hope to be able to see the vanilla plantation and tea factory. On Tuesday, the final day, we would like to do the Blue Escape: Catamaran and Snorkeling with a whole day on the catamaran exploring the lagoons and islets of the island, snorkeling, beaches, and a barbeque lunch. Hopefully this will make up for the snorkeling we were planning on in Kenya.

So now that we know what we will be doing in Mauritius, granted we are still waiting to be confirmed for these two trips, I can talk about the highlight of our entire stay in South Africa – the SAFARI. We walked over to the clock tower precinct for a six thirty pick-up this morning and our two hour ride to Aquila. It was quite cold, a theme that seemed to continue throughout the day. I guess I always assumed that a safari should be hot, hot, hot, but this certainly proved otherwise. While I was glad not to be stifling hot and sweaty, the wind was quite chilly and a nice medium between the two would have been nice.

Megan writes, “Buses, coach that is, nevertheless whenever such a word is mentioned the connotation of waiting, waiting, waiting always comes to mind. Other students who thought sleeping in and running, leisurely running that should be categorized more specifically as the shuffle and scuffle of feet in tattered flip flops and clothes that could pass for merely slightly tolerable as day attire, more specifically looking like pajamas, are always prevalent enough to thwart the start of an adventure for an additional twenty minutes. Of course, you can add an extra five minutes for the one that boards the bus, disheveled hair and asks the driver if she can go use the restroom. There’s one on board, but delaying others is of the utmost importance. From there all forty some students fall asleep in crouched positions, shuddering forward and back, side to side with the rocking of the bus.”

“Four passengers awake, two adults, Bob and Betty, and Heather and I. Traveler I call myself. What could be more beautiful and more wonderful than gazing out the window at the scenery, the landscape away from the waterfront and the transformation of vistas from city to wine lands to barren earth?”

The drive to Aquila took a little over two hours with all of the students sleeping on the bus, except for the two of us who enjoyed the scenic tour through the wine lands. I have never seen so many vines laid out in a patchwork of rows across the countryside. I saw ostriches shortly after leaving the city limits; Megan writing in her journal did not believe me until we spotted a few more. The sun was just starting to rise, peeking through the clouds and the mist around the mountains. I have never been to the Highlands in Scotland, but I can say that the landscape here would seem to correspond with my understanding of the Scottish scenery, purple flowers, craggy outcrops, white branched trees, and bluish-gray bushes – a scene straight from Brigadoon. We drove along the side of a streambed for what seemed like an eternity, the large white stones outlining its borders with the appearance of purple flowered weeds and small white lilies. The calla lilies seemed to grow just about everywhere there was a spot of green, poking up there cute little white faces in the orange glow of the morning sun. It makes me think about spring at home, and how the start of spring for us is usually muddy from the melting snows, brown from the winter freeze, and how much more beautiful it is here to see the green backdrop sprinkled with white lilies and the heather flowers that grow on the sides of the mountains.

Megan writes, “Lilies grow everywhere, clumps of small white buds surrounded by pink and purple and yellow flowers that blanket the uncultivated land surrounding the vineyards. Heather claims to see ostrich on the drive. Should I believe her, as I look down at that precise moment to journal? We laugh together, not ashamed to be awake, and not really caring whether we are disturbing those slumbering around us.”

The mountains looked as if some giants had gotten into a throwing contest, speckling the sides in large white boulders, almost as if they were growing out of the mountain itself. Or perhaps it rained white rocks last night leaving the mountain covered in a royal cloak of ivory pearls fit for the king of the peaks. The wine lands continued on, first driving through one of the more commonly known, Stellenbosch. The road seemed to lead us through the foothills of the mountains, at one point a tunnel leading straight through to the other side – it drove on forever it seemed in the dark before finally returning to the light on the far side. Virtual walls of rock stood on the right and left of the road leading from the mountains to the valleys as the clouds clustered around the craggy peaks. It is so strange that you see so much of the country on a bus, a part of the journey you can never share with others because pictures are impossible.

Excerpt from Megan’s Journal:

Mountains sprout up more abundant than plants and as everything is so beautiful I can just imagine how a local on foot could enjoy the magnificence and splendor of this lush land as it offers up miles upon miles of vineyards. We go through a tonnel as the sign reads, the patchwork of yellow and green fields sloping away from the road and rising again in small undulations as the mountains approach.

Once through the mountain and into the valley, clouds cluster around the peaks of craggy outcroppings, the sunbeam-spawned ripples cascading through the haze. Across a pebbly stream, white river rocks so smooth and shiny in the streambed. The water skips along unhindered. So many images we could take with the camera if not moving at a momentum to fast for the shutter. But bus rides are always committed to memory.

If I had been to the highlands of Scotland this is what I would imagine. Mist around the peaks in the early morning and heather on the hill, a bluish-gray, even silver, appearance to the plants. The bark of the trees are light and thin and the mountainous green grass is completely spotted with stones and rocks that threaten to roll down their slopes any moment. More vineyards touch the base of the mountains; sprouts of grass from the weathered projections are like tufts of hair. I look for the rounded, irregular heads of a sleeping giant but none are in sight.

Clouds begin to move off and reveal the bluest of skies underneath. The clouds on these mountains are like jaguars in a tree, low and lazy. Fairy Glen is on our left. I should like to go and meet the fairies. Wouldn’t you? It sounds like a magical place but we keep driving. The scenery begins to change; drier soil parched and cracked and desert plants lightly speckle the landscape. I know we must be nearing the reserve.

Heather writes, “Seeing all of the vineyards and the grapes certainly gives one an appreciation for what it takes to make one bottle of wine. We passed a town called Fairy Glen and I should think it would be a wonderful place to live in the middle of nowhere at the foot of the mountains, squeezed between the rows upon rows of purple grapes. Slowly the landscaped changed, but it was so gradual that when you realized it was flatter with more rolling hills and dry dusty dirt you could not possibly recall when or where it had changed.”

A student awakes and goes up to the front to inquire how much longer. “There is a restroom on board the driver says,” thinking this must be the prelude to her question. “No, it’s not that. We have just been on the bus for sooooo long. It’s been WAY more THAN two hours.” I look at the watch on my wrist; it has just now been two hours exactly. I feel embarrassed by her behavior.

Excerpt from Heather’s Journal:

As soon as we arrived at the private game reserve we walked into the lobby, all of the buildings with thatched roofs, and san paintings, gathering around a table for our choice between sparkling grape juice, mango juice, sparkling wine, or sherry. With a glass in hand we walked out into the open air, past a sparkling pool with waterfall and into the dining room. We were greeted with a large fire in the hearth and breakfast sprawled out on the tables: eggs, hash browns, bread, scones, sausage, ham, beans, and so on. It was delicious beyond words. Soon we found ourselves in the last row of a safari vehicle, green fleece blankets thrown over our laps and around our hands, bumping through the reserve in search of wild animals.

Megan writes, “Minutes later we pull into the reserve, the reception desk serving glasses of sparkling wine. With our beverages we are ushered into the lodge for breakfast, the wind whipping across your face. It is chillier here, but the sun is shining.”

“Thirty minutes and the most delicious food, cereal, fried eggs, hash browns, sausage, scones, and breakfast ham. I am stuffed upon leaving the lodge. The jeep has four rows, the first three with a removable side that transforms into steps. The last row with an extended ladder. Heather and I take the last, just the two of us. We take one of the fleece blankets provided and put our hands into the warm green pockets of the throw.”

Our first stop was the waterhole and the hippos did not disappoint, bringing their snouts to the surface for air. There was a wildebeest separated from the herd, and dozens of ostrich. We drove on very uneven ground, clinging to our cameras until our guide stopped the vehicle for us to snap a hundred shots at a time before continuing on our way.

Megan writes, “From the lodge to the waterhole where hippos stick their nostrils out slightly every two minutes. A wildebeest, alone, passes through. He has challenged the leader of the group and lost. Now he has to roam the reserve alone. Springbok frolic around the vehicle as we move deeper into the reserves territory. A rhino mother and her baby, just two feet away stay motionless in the bush. It is incredible. They look like rocks, rough skin that is so gray.”

Next we saw rhinos eating lunch and the cutest was by far the young baby. We probably got the closest to the rhinos though they did not seem too happy in the least with our presence. Of course there were antelopes and springbok everywhere, which made it hard to focus on one particular spot especially since we took our binoculars. Actually the rhino poo came before the rhinos, and of course it was extremely large.

Excerpt from Megan’s Journal:

Ostrich dance around on their two gangly legs, their plumage like tutus bounce up and down as they ballet across the ravine. Their choreography is awkward for their bodies, their heads leaning forward each time they move on tiptoes.

A dung beetle. Rolling what else, dung. It is quite large, the beetle, not the dung. Although the rhino dung around the vehicle is like large meatballs for giants. Lets hope they don’t have the same thing in mind.

The driver says we have run out of diesel. We think he is serious until he pulls out a table, biltong and more wine. Right in the middle of the bush we have snacks and beverages. It is warmer on the ground than in the jeep. The sand is soft beneath my tennis shoes.

Heather writes, “About one third of the way through our tour the guide stopped the jeep and told us that we were out of diesel and would have to walk back, hoping that the lions were already feed or we would become lunch. Everyone grabbed their blankets and climbed out of the truck, a task in and of itself to get down from the ladders. They had set up a small table with fruit, nuts, and biltong, and of course more wine, sherry, and juice. It was much warmer in the sun than in the shade of the vehicle and we stood just feet away from herds of springbok as we munched on treats and drank our wine.”

Back in the vehicles we enter the realm of the lions, three are present, though they lounge on the ground and the prickly bush and beige sand seems to camouflage their presence. A lioness stands and prowls near a fence on the lower slope before returning to the ground.

Excerpt from Heather’s Journal:

Soon we were on our way again, stopping to look for the lions, which made their grand appearance in the second valley. The lions were beautiful, the male lion with a gorgeous mane and the smaller lions all cuddled together. Of course the highlight of the trip was the giraffes that were no more than four feet from us at one point. They were tall and graceful and we must have seen at least half a dozen at a time as we drove through the valley. Megan had a permanent smile on her face at this point, which made taking pictures quite easy and I was sad to leave the giraffes on our return to the lodge. We passed the waterhole again to see the hippos fully emerged from the water and yawning in the chilly air.

Megan writes, “We drive through and soon the towering heads of giraffes are visible. Three, four, many more. Along with eland they are eating. They are not extremely tall; they cannot grow much more as they have to be able to eat their food on the ground. No trees. They are a sandy color and I take about one hundred photos of my favorite animals. These tall blondes are quiet, no vocals, and walk with such grace. I am beaming. This is what I came for. As we leave I am saddened, I pretend to pout and Heather and I smile at each other knowing the trip was worth every penny.”

“We pass the waterhole once again; three hippos having emerged sit low in the water. They are smaller than I imagined. We make a brief stop to see some San paintings, just two that have faded from the elements. Still it is remarkable. From my studies on African art history the paintings from the Drakensburg Mountains are extraordinary.”

Upon our arrival at the lodge we had an extravagant lunch with beef, potatoes, rice, string beans, and gourmet desserts. It was so cozy inside that we decided to get a cup of tea and sit on the large, comfy leather chairs in front of the fire. We took all seven of our memory sticks and brought them back completely full, which amounts to about eight hundred photos, of course this is before editing and deleting anything that was blurry because of the ride.

Megan writes, “We return to the lodge for a fabulous lunch, which seems much more like dinner. Again the food is delicious. With an hour left we check out the curio shop and Heather and I get a hot tea and sit by the fire. The plush leather sofas and fire extract the remainder of the coldness from our limbs.”

All in all it was a fantastic, unforgettable day, and so we packed ourselves back into the bus, cameras bursting with shots of the best day since the start of the voyage and made our way back to Cape Town and the clock tower precinct.

Excerpt from Megan’s Journal:

The return drive is just as scenic and picturesque. The vines of the plants protrude from the ground like umbilical cords, up to the wooden frames and supports where the fruit will grow. Clouds cascade over the mountains like water rushing down a stream, up and over and down a waterfall. We pass Olivenbosch and a sign advertises a restaurant and bar. Could this be where olives are grown? That’s something I have missed from home, lots of olives.

A row of VW bugs all brightly painted passes us, every hue of the rainbow. We soon enter the city and the outline of Table Mountain nears. Back at the waterfront we depart from the clock tower precinct towards Victoria Wharf. We pass Alfred mall, the Green Dolphin Restaurant, the African Trading Post, the Bureau de Change, the Red Shed Craft Market and Kraal Gallery. Down towards Victoria Wharf we enter to make a quick stop at the grocery store. For the equivalent of twenty dollars we stock up on cracker snacks and apple juice and two small cans of soda each for special occasions. We get some chocolate and more crackers. The large amount we can buy for twenty dollars seems incredible.

Heather writes, “Upon our return Megan and I had some unfinished business, thanks to the laundry crew. It seems as if one of her bras has gone MIA and so thankfully we are right next to Victoria Mall and not in another country where this recovery mission would fail substantially. I promised her the equivalent of Victoria’s Secret and indeed we were successful, buying extras to ensure that this does not happen again. Our last stop was at the grocery store where we stocked up on snacks, spending the remainder of our rand on juice, soda, crackers, crackers, and crackers of all types, tea, chocolate, more crackers, and other items. The security checkpoint could have been a potential disaster when he checked Megan’s bag, thankfully though leaving the bras wrapped in their tissue paper instead of waving them around to the line waiting to board the ship. Actually they were in with the groceries and so they went fairly unnoticed.”

We then continue back to the ship, the MV Explorer waiting in her berth for all passengers. We pass St. Elmo’s Wood Fired Pizzeria and the Table Bay Hotel where we had high tea. Up the gangway, two flights, and into the ship. A brief stop at our room and we head for classroom five to fill out forms for value-added-tax refunds. I will get a couple hundred back. At dinner we sit we Pat and Janet Eastman sharing our high tea experience and safari.

We purchase a phone-card and call home to share our adventure. Mom answers and even though it is supposed to be Dads turn to start he is outside working in the yard and to get him would waste the thirteen minutes. It is so wonderful to hear her voice, tears of happiness on the other end as we detail or experience with the giraffes. Over six hundred photos to organize from the day alone and some others from the remainder of the stay we will be busy for some time.

The schedule has changed slightly, which I will detail in a future blog. We signed up for the remainder of our semester at sea trips and wait anxiously to hear the results. Mauritius had three pages of programs and among the itinerary we selected two. Perhaps we will be able to use the underwater camera after all.

Excerpt from Heather’s Journal:

We had a township choir come to the ship to perform and it was simply marvelous, colorful and animated. As soon as they completed their repertoire they captain decided to depart early because of high winds and so the tugs came alongside in the darkness of night and we cruised slowly out of the harbor, watching the lights of the Victoria and Alfred Waterfront get smaller from our window and the ship start its choreography of rocking back and forth as we fell asleep. I definitely wanted to cry; this port has been remarkable and I know that I will return one day. Now we have six days until our arrival in Mauritius. I saw a message painted on the brick walls of building during our stay, “From Pieces to Peace” and though there is much to do to achieve equality in South Africa, I certainly do feel at peace after leaving this wonderful country.

Megan writes, “It seems difficult to leave South Africa. After the performance by a South African choir we are notified that we will depart sooner due to strong winds. We go secure all belongings in our room and around eleven finally climbed into bed. It has been an amazing week in Cape Town, a place that feels like home, and a place I will return to with family. I still hear others complain about our next port and even though it is not Kenya the experiences I am sure will still be amazing. Nothing is better than seeing the world, no matter where that is. Five days of classes, six days at sea, and two thousand forty-seven nautical miles to paradise.”