November 8, 2018
Lower Sabie Rest Camp
It’s been an eventful couple of days. Tuesday night it rained all night long – a cool, steady rain with periods of high wind. Our alarm went off at 0330 yesterday and we got up, ate a quick breakfast and loaded the car for a drive. The plan was to do a 5 hour drive or so, come back in time to load up everything to move to the next camp by check out time (1000). It was cool (low 60sF) and overcast, very blustery and damp, but not raining. Cool enough though that we were bundled as we drove with windows open. Animals were clearly hunkered down, out of the wind and the damp, because we drove for several hours and saw almost nothing – one small family of elephants and a few birds. That was about it.
We started to make our way back to Orpen, driving on these empty, narrow gravel roads in the middle of the bush. We didn’t see many other vehicles, I assume due both to the weather and to the fact that it was Wednesday and the Park is noticeably less crowded on weekdays. One of the things that happens here is that the bush kind of encroaches the sides of the roads and the word ‘bush’ should not denote some cute soft, fluffy, soft bush, but a scraggly, hard bush full of sharp thorns. Drivers tend to bias away from the sides of the road because a moment of inattention can leave your car with very noticeable bush scratches if you graze one of those bushes. On the way back on this gray, cold, damp morning a car approached me, leaning away from his side of the road. And then he flashed his lights at me, I assume because he felt like I was encroaching on his lane. Keep in mind that we’re in the middle of nowhere, approaching each other at the breathtaking speed of 30 mph…. And I just leaned away from him a bit, saw, out of the corner of my eye a softball-sized rock and BLAM. The tire instantly deflated and I rolled to a stop knowing that I’d somehow managed to blow out the sidewall of the tire. Damn. The other vehicle of course was long gone. I limped a short distance to the intersection of the paved road, and got out and started trying to figure out how to change a tire on a Volkswagen Tiguan (it’s weird – it uses bolts instead of studs on the wheel assembly, and then it was these weird plastic bolt covers). Had damaged wheel/tire off, and was mounting spare when a stranger jumped out and helped to get it buttoned up quickly. He was awesome, and a reminder that there are people who will do good things for no other reason than because they know they can help.
Then it was pack up, get on the phone with Avis to request a replacement vehicle, and then check out of Orpen to head south. A relative uneventful, and careful drive. Went to the airport at Skukuza first, because they told me a replacement car was there, but it wasn’t. They told me they’d call the next morning and deliver the car. Ran into an asshole bull elephant on the busy road from Skukuza to Lower Sabie, causing an entire flotilla of tourists to back up for several kilometers, while another flotilla of tourists followed along behind him happy that at least he was going their direction.
The day remained cold and blustery, never getting out of the sixties. Went through check-in process at Lower Sabie only to find that they’d issued keys to our bungalow to another party, back to the Reception to sort that out, dinner on the deck over the Sabie River and then in bed by about 7pm. Never shot a frame.
This morning dawned very cool (lower 50s) but clear and breezy. Gina and I left early for an easy drive, sticking mostly to paved road given the fact that we no longer had a spare. Didn’t see a lot, but the morning was glorious. Did see a mother hyena with two teenaged cubs, but not photographable. Did photograph some birds. But not a very productive morning in terms of shooting.
Leftovers for lunch at about 1000. Replacement car was supposed to be here by 1030, but they called to tell me that elephants were blocking the driver’s path and that he’d be delayed. He just arrived, delivering a new RAV4 and taking the Tiguan away, no problem. Africa is such a weird place. In some instances, the notion of ‘service’ is just bizarre, but I don’t believe that I would have received this level of service from a rental car agency in the US. Avis South Africa was just fantastic.
And now it’s 1145 and just perfect in the camp. Not hot, a nice breeze blowing. The camp is mostly empty now. Departing guests are gone, arriving guests are not here yet. Guests who are staying over are mostly out driving about, being chased by elephants. It’s very quiet. Gina is taking a nap. A woman is slowly sweeping the porch of the bungalow opposite ours. Hippos are vocalizing in the river, which is maybe a hundred meters to my left. Birds all seem very happy that it’s such a beautiful morning after cold, rainy and blustery days. There’s a large gang of baboons roaming around the camp, looking for trouble, but they won’t mess with me because, somehow, in baboon eyes, I’m kind of intimidating.
I’m aware that the clock is ticking. We have less time in the Park this trip because we’re stopping in Kenya on the way home. I’m trying not to count the days but admit that, every now and again, those numbers start to crowd my consciousness. It hasn’t been very productive photographically, but Gina reminds me that we’ll get a lot of shooting in the Mara and not to worry about it. And she’s right and wise.
I try to use these trips away to reflect on where I have opportunities to be a better person. It’s hard sometimes when you’re in the rat race, right? It’s hard to have the time, the energy and the awareness in those moments. But here, with hours to drive about… you use your eyes to scan constantly but there’s a part of your brain available for processing and introspection. I’ve thought a lot about the question of why or how I’m so judgmental about people. It flares up constantly on the road, of course, watching other people drive, dismissing them as tourists (in spite of the obvious problem with that judgment), criticizing their lack of self-awareness and ignoring my own. Often those judgements are associated with visible characteristics of those people. For me, for some reason, it’s Europeans. I don’t know why exactly. But they’re here in hordes, and they’re very visible. Yesterday, as we were walking into reception, I noticed that birds in a large bush near the entrance were just FREAKING out. Then realized that some woman was trying to push her head into the bush to somehow take a photo with her iPad. I assume that there was a nest in there or something. I immediately told myself some story about what a bunch of assholes these people are (and I have no idea where this lady was from – for illustration, let’s just say it was Belgium), and fantasized intervening and asking if what the hell was wrong with her…. I didn’t because, apparently, I’m one polite SOB. And also her husband was younger and bigger than me…. But seriously, I went deep down this hole of judgement. And, yes, she was behaving in a way that was unaware and stupid, but probably stupid in an ignorant way rather than in the sense of, “I’m here and don’t care what happens to a bunch of little birds” because, after all, I’m assuming she went through quite a bit of trouble and expense to get here to seethem.
And people who drive slower than me – what the hell is wrong with them? And people who drive faster than me, what the hell is wrong with them? And people who stop in the middle of the road to baby talk to a vervet who would just as soon shiv them and steal their food as look at them, what the hell is wrong with them?
Maybe I should save up all of my judgement for just one thing…. Maybe for all of us because of our lack of awareness as we sever all connection to the natural world and isolate ourselves into one little bubble, insuring that we lose whatever soul we have. Insuring that we cannot survive or thrive into the future. That gives me something to think about.
Meanwhile, I hear fish eagles and brown-hooded kingfishers and swallows, and the women cleaning bungalows across the way are taking a break to talk and laugh and, while I can’t understand their language, I’m pretty sure to complain about management.
No comments:
Post a Comment