Fred Hoyt's Travels

If scenery is really what the Chinese say it is–the combination of mountains and water–then what I saw today was scenery.  My guide and I went up the coast toward Port Elizabeth to Tsitsikama National Park, which fronts on the Indian Ocean.

It’s a natural forest, albeit restored (logging was closed down about 50 years ago, and the land returned to forest) that is one of the destinations, we discovered, for tour buses as one of the Garden Route National Parks, and a pretty cool place in and of itself.  The highlight of the park is a coastal trail that uses a suspension bridge to cross an inlet, about 3/4 of a mile from the trailhead.  It gave pretty spectacular views of the ocean, and the mountains that come down to the sea.  it was a brisk day, with scattered rain and high waves, which made for pretty spectacular pictures. As I said, it’s almost the equivalent of November here, but the verdant hills indicate there’s a lot of evergreens that don’t look like fir or pine trees–such as the Cape Chestnut, which as my guide pointed out, “doesn’t have chestnuts that you roast over an open fire.”

One consequence of the building of the coastal road–and one of the reasons it was delayed–is that it crosses some major gorges creating some major bridge building projects.  We stopped at one because it had a Khoisan tribute (to the original African settlers of the area, people we call Bushmen) and the 216 meter bungee jump.  Until the creation of the Macau tower (a bungee off a building), it was the highest bungee drop in the world.  Today it has to bill itself as the biggest jump off a bridge.  It’s fairly reasonable–about 60$, but happily I resisted the temptation to drop for probably no more than 20 seconds and contented myself with snapping photos of others, from a distance.

My computer is on the fritz so I’m using one at the hotel where I am staying–the aptly named Turbine Hotel. It’s aptly named because it is a converted power station; in fact, if I glance up from my computer, I gaze at the speed reducer the renovators left in place. If I look to the right, out the door, there is a 1926 racer parked, awaiting the weekend’s hill climb (It looks like something I saw in the Speedway museum). If I look farther out the door, I can see the lagoon at Kynysa, which opens into the Indian Ocean.

In other words, I’ve gone from the mountain-desert to the sea, climbing over a 3000 foot pass (that’s 800 meters here). While in the mountains, we stopped at the largest commercial cave in South Africa, the Cango Cave, with huge rooms and ample passages, a real comfort to a claustrophobic Scoutmaster. The oldest feature is 1 1/2 million years old, so it was nice not to be the oldest in the room! My guide said she’d been here years ago, before the floor was leveled and steps were put in, and I imagine it was closer to Illinois Caverns than to the more commercial caves we’ve been to. The cave is four miles long, but we went about half a mile. There’s a more “adventurous” stretch, but when I saw the size of the entrance, I thought, “Not yet.”

The cave once let people in on their own; the consequence is a number of cut off stalactites and stalagmites. The sad thing about it (besides the fact that it takes thousands of years to grow, and would require a change in the climate) is that the calcium base turns to sand and crumbles (eventually) when out of the humid temperature of the cave.

As we got closer to the coast, of course, the vegetation changed; it’s heavily forested, and we’re supposed to go to a national park/forest today if it doesn’t rain too heavily.

Kynysa and its sister city, about 30 km away, (we went there to view the splendid beach on the Indian Ocean) resemble any port city where people come to enjoy the views on what everyone in the world (except maybe the US) calls “holiday”, with the tacky shops and the wonderful restaurants and marinas. My guide said the sister city in particular has a lot of weekend homes–it’s only four or five hours from Cape Town–for really rich South Africans.

As is true of most developing countries, though, there are nearby slums that resemble poorer versions of the favelas I saw last year in Brazil–wooden boxes basically with corrugated roofs. Above them frequently are square but solid houses that are built by the government. My guide said that when people move into the houses, the shanties get immediately occupied by newcomers. The easy immigration into South Africa, which is more prosperous than most of its neighbors, combined with the slowdown of the economy, has created tensions that have erupted in some of the cities, especially Durban on the east coast.

All is quiet here, awaiting, I suspect, the arrival of more racing cars. By that time, I expect we’ll be heading slowly back to Cape Town. In the meantime, I’ve switched from ostrich to oysters–at least they both begin with an “o”, and meals overlooking the sea. Not a bad variant.

Good morning to you all.

I am sitting looking up at the Black Mountains, around 300 miles east of Cape Town, the end result of a long day of driving on what is called the “Garden Route.” That’s kind of a misnomer, so far anyway, since I’ve not seen any “Gardens.” Instead, it’s been through rugged country that is greener than, but reminiscent of, the wild west. It’s dry (the rains come mostly in the spring), otherwise we might have been in Thompson Canyon, on our way to Rocky Mountain national park.

Again, many of the plants were different (I saw aloe), but some were the same (they grow sweet corn), and a few different animals. Just as we left rush hour Cape Town (at 7 am), we passed a sign warning us to keep an eye peeled for baboons. I had no idea baboons live on the plains, but we spotted many of them even without warning signs in some of the valleys along the way. They skittered away as soon as we stopped to try to take pictures, probably having read the signs, “look out for people.”

We did stop at a “farm store” along the way, where the signs were bilingual–English and Afrikkan, which are the two most common of the 11 official language. I remember collecting stamps from the Union of South Africa in pairs, one of which was in English, the other in Afrikkan, a mark of the troubled history of the country, which was wrought by tribal wars, and at least two major wars between the British and the descendant of the Dutch settlers, the so called Boers. As some of you Scouts may recall, Baden Powell’s inspiration for the Boy Scouts was the unpreparedness of the British to fight the Boers. Afrikkan is based on the Dutch language–we’re at the Swartberg Country inn, which is “Black Mountain”.

There was no mistaking a sign that said, “Lock your cars, n use remote control,” whatever that meant. It’s a reminder of the high unemployment and high crime that is one of the current problems that plague this potentially rich country. I heard from a former student that the his company cancelled a trip here because of “urban unrest.” An antiforeign protest (workers from elsewhere in Africa come here for better jobs and better pay, and I saw that an automobile parts company here had relocated to Lesotho–one of two countries embedded in South Africa–because of cheaper labor) rerouted a planned tour of Durban for my Australian friends.

The other different animals we saw were ostriches, farmed here for meat and leather, and one of the objects of our visit to this part of South Africa. We went to an ostrich farm, which in addition to raising over 300 of the birds, charges about $10 for a tour. The heyday of the industry in many ways was pre-1914 when women wore ostrich feathers in their hats (the museum had some stunning examples), creating “feather barons” who built mansions in the major town nearby–Oudtschoon. Today, it’s mostly leather and meat, though the plumage makes great feather dusters (so good the guide told us that auto makers use them to dust the car before painting), and one can buy other products in the gift store at the ranch.

Of course, the region dictated lunch and dinner–ostrich. The filet last night was much tastier than the ostrich salad we had yesterday for lunch. The herd gets culled (maybe I should say killed) at 14 months, when ostrich are at their tenderest. Some stick around for breeding (the ladies lay between 11 and 20 eggs at a time), and a few others to be part of the show–which includes a jockey race and the opportunity to have your picture taken with them.

I doubt we’ll have ostrich egg for breakfast, though; the egg replaces 24 chicken eggs, and are virtually unbreakable.

I wonder what the word for today (it’s Wednesday here already) will be?

From Cape Town

The last six hours of safari certainly proved two things to me:

First, the big cats don’t always win. We went looking for giraffes last night, and wound up skunked on that score, but we encountered a hungry leopard instead. And skittish impala. The impala, and there were lots of them, were uneasy not only because of the leopard, but also because of impending rain (despite our ranger’s assertion it never rains in May). We followed the leopard over hill and dale as it stalked the herd for nearly an hour, even after it got dark, testing the limits of the Land Rover (I think the only limit really is a precipice). Though momma leopard (she’s about 16 according to our ranger) came close at least once, by the time we left there were exhausted impala and an unsatisfied leopard–and at least 3 groups of safari trekkers hoping for the outcome we saw last night, with the carcass and the leopard in a tree.

The next morning, after a rain that filled some of the creeks (and brought out some turtles that we hadn’t seen before, I realized how lucky we had been to see the big five plus one (the one being the out-of-control wild dogs) as early as we did. We still wanted to see the giraffes, but we were pretty well confined to birds (not a bad substitute, really; we saw some incredible storks and a few birds the ranger said we were really lucky to have seen because they are really endangered), but by the time we broke for tea and scones (this is a really civilized custom in the British world; we had afternoon tea, too, with a tablecloth on a compartment on the Land Rover) we’d struck out on all the big 5. On the way back, we saw two other Land Rovers, and the trackers, who were watching two giraffes. That made the trip complete.

I’ve spent the rest of the day getting to Cape Town, where I’ll begin a new set of adventures along the Garden Route. In the meantime I’m in a lovely B&B in a city of over 5 million, (we’ve got more locks than a delicatessen) missing the great expanses of the veld, and the roar of the Land Rover in pursuit of photographic opportunities. When Teddy Roosevelt went to Africa in 1909 to hunt, his opponents wished good hunting to the lions. Fortunately, we were the ones who had the good hunting, and I have the pictures to prove it!

Sabi Sabi

I’m happy to say that in the last 24 hours, I’ve made substantial progress toward finishing the require-ments for “Nature Merit Badge.” On the two game drives, following habits of the big game, mostly, we join our ranger and tracker at 6 am for a three hour jaunt, and again at 4 pm for another three hour ride; that gets out of the head of the midday sun. It may be fall here, but it’s in the 80s in the afternoon.  In the process, we completed seeing the “big five”–the leopard, lion, rhino, elephant, and buffalo.

The excitement yesterday was partly by accident (the animals don’t follow a script, but our drivers talk to one another); we saw another Land Cruiser and realized it had spotted a killed impala in a tree, and looking around, spotted the heavily camouflaged leopard which had scored it; and close by, equally well hidden, her 2 year old cub. We watched for a while, but our ranger told us that if we went for coffee (the vehicle contains a chest with some goodies) and came back, we’d likely see the leopard in the tree having dinner.

On cue, when we returned, sure enough, the leopard was ensconced in the tree, with a hyena grousing for grub beneath it for any leftovers. Momma was pretty assertive when the young cub came to get his share, and anyone with a sensitive night camera lens (not me) got some great photos of an angry interchange.  I hope you and your mom got along better on mother’s day than those two. Momma grabbed the impala and ate chunks. The hyena took whatever fell to the ground.

This morning, we actively sought the buffalo herd (not the American bison!), which involved our tracker actually tracking. We stumbled on the pride of lionesses, who again amused us by their cleaning and caressing of each other as they managed a ménage a quatre. But we still had not located the buffalo, who have a reputation–deserved–as being the most dangerous of the animals in the wild partly because they are the favored treat of the lions.

Ironically, we found a big herd (our tracker said they have around 400 in a herd), which travels in a defensive square led by the ladies (!) sitting at the airport on a slight hill, looking maybe for the next flight?

The other sight at the air strip (it really is a strip, but there is a small building so I suppose it’s an airport) that was a little different was the herd of zebras there were literally chased by the elephants. Our ranger pointed out that the elephants usually get what they want; when they came into the water hole yesterday, they chased everyone else out. We didn’t mind, the little ones cavorted or showed off testing each other, but they do seem to take whatever they want.

Our ranger talked about the overpopulation of elephants and the harm they are causing. Kruger National Park no longer “culls the herd” because of the outcry against the killings, but we read that Botswana, home of about a third of the continent’s elephants, has banned hunting–with the result that the elephants have been trashing homes and crops. The ranger said they had to kill an entire herd, because if they thinned it out, the survivors were likely to become rogue elephants. I think I recall seeing an article that elephants are no longer part of circuses, but it has probably been 40 years since I’ve been to a circus.

They truly are magnificent to watch, with their own punka wallahs flapping as they strip branches.

When we got back this morning, I learned that the “community tour” had been cancelled. I think I will be having a similar experience with the business faculty later, but I was looking for something interesting to do in the nonce.

I asked the program director for ideas. “Have you been on a bush walk?” And I thought–I bet that’s one of the requirements for Nature Merit Badge here–and jumped at the chance to go with my ranger (who put four shells in the 357 before we left; that gave us a better than even chance at stopping an enraged elephant). “Walk in single file,” he informed me; “and don’t run. If you run, animals think you’re prey”. We walked an hour around the lodge. As soon as we crossed the wired fence, though, he showed me leopard tracks and elephant tracks…. He showed me some nature signs that we hadn’t seen and wouldn’t on our big game trips. One was a smooth trunk, which he said was caused by buffalo and elephants caking themselves in mud, partly to cool off, and partly to rid themselves of ticks. They then rub the mud off on a trunk, and eventually, the trunk (or rock) becomes smooth. Another was a tree that he said has a fruit popular with people and animals; locals turn it into a Bailey’s like drink….

I should mention food. I was told South Africa exports meat, and we’d have a lot of choices here. That’s so far been the case. The lodge set up a barbeque in the bush last night that included roast lamb (a whole lamb), and an impala stew that was certainly a lot easier to digest than the carcass the leopard was chewing!

I had a chance this afternoon to work on a “fitness” badge, too. I had a deep tissue massage that I wish I had had last week after the 12 mile backpack in Wisconsin. I’d said this morning that I wished I had been pampered like the lions had been and could spend the rest of the day purring.   Well–I was and I am.

Happy Mums Day.

Fred

My former student, JR Glen, now a famous Chicago attorney, used to say, “This is like Scout camp,” when we travelled extensively in China, Burma, and Europe. But I have to correct that somewhat erroneous view now that I am in the Republic of South Africa, almost 8900 miles from Bloomington, in a game reserve near Kruger National Park.

At the junction of 24 degrees south and 34 or so east, it’s not quite Canyon Camp. For one thing, I have a three room accommodation, with

rustic (but happily unneeded) mosquito netting over my bed, an in-room shower and bathroom; for another, there’s a superb open air dining hall, that last night served ostrich and one of the many antelope that serve as the bottom of the food chain for the big cats that surround the place. Finally, I am the only Scout here (at least the only one wearing “Grumpy Old Folks” fleece).

But it would be a great place to work on Nature Merit Badge, and in a sense, that’s what I’ve been doing for the past 24 hours since I arrived. That’s the reward for the 36 hours from the time I left Bloomington, spent 8.5 hours at Heathrow in London (can you believe I could find neither ice cream nor a milk shake in that busy airport), and a 55 minute puddle jumper from Johannesburg to the nearest airport (a stretch of concrete two lanes wide in the game reserve).

I got in in time for the evening safari (my program has two a day–one at literally the crack of dawn, the other at sunset, times when the big animals especially, are active). I’m in a group with a mature Australian couple from Sydney who are on the last leg of a cruise that took them from Singapore to Cape Town. Last night we met our ranger (this does sound like Scout camp), Kyle, a 27 year old Johannesburger, who toted along a 375 rifle (just in case) and introduced us to the bush, a nickel-plated Land Cruiser that resembles a large jeep, and a tracker from a local village (there are 11 official languages in RSA, one of them I believe is Shangaan; I’ll work on my citizenship in the world merit badge when I go there tomorrow afternoon).

We had about a three hour safari (I think they call it a “game drive” too), that took us all over this area, which for all the world looks like a place near Pictured Rocks which has been deforested. It’s fairly level, with some trees, lots of grass, and long-range views. African Savannah, it’s home to animals, and that was what we set out to see. Last night, it was just fun for me to be galavanting around the dirt roads, or even off them (the Land Cruiser has the endurance of a Grumman canoe). We followed a pack of wild dogs (7 of the supposedly 500 of them left) as they chased something–off the road through the brush. One of the jobs of the tracker is to sit high in the front of the Land Cruiser and steer us out of danger; another is to keep his eyes peeled for animals.

And animals we did see, of various sizes. The dwarf mongoose were in an abandoned termite hill (the termite hills can be huge, and renovated, can house other animals; we saw one that accommodated a ken (not sure what the group name is) of hyenas this morning. They were a crowd pleaser, partly because they were next to the road, and have the curiosity and behavior that rather resembled prairie dogs.

The bigger animals were here, too. The most numerous were probably the varieties of antelope (the antelope play here more than in the American West), including the Impala (and I thought Chevy made up the name). The impalas are nicknamed “McDonalds” because there are so many of them served up the food chain, and because they have an “M” on their butts that resemble the golden arches. The antelope have huge ears, and it is interesting to come upon a herd that has identified a sound of danger. This morning, they were all turned in one direction. When our driver/ranger investigated, we saw the source of trouble was a hyena. My Australian friend cracked, “They made it through the night,” but that was only the survivors.

Other highlights: Zebras (Zebras and Lions and no NFL), which I learned can’t be domesticated like horses because they have a weak back; a leopard last night that seemed awfully nonchalant; a hippopotamus that refused to yawn and give us good pictures (he was slouched in a man-made watering hole, one of the essentials for wildlife viewing); and a pride of lionesses this morning–six in all, that looked for all the world like adorable big cats as they keep each other clean and lounged about–until one went after a warthog.

When we got back last night, the manager of the resort asked, “What was the highlight?” For me, it was just being here. Got to run. Fifteen elephants just showed up at the water hole in front of the Lodge. We watched them this morning when our ranger pointed out they have ears shaped like Africa and chew kind of sideways, so they can strip the bark from a tree branch.

I sometimes have the feeling the Travel Channel was doing a special–but then I remembered the Travel Channel doesn’t do much travel anymore. It’s more fun to do it on in person anyway, even if I don’t finish my nature merit badge at this Scout camp.