Wild-eyed-cam

Calliope Dreams

2011-06-11T18:34:00.000-04:00

Images from an antique carousel

A few images from Tanzania

2010-08-14T17:05:00.000-04:00

Selous Pride

Our last day in Katavi

Selous, Ruaha, Katavi....

2010-07-18T21:33:00.000-04:00

It's hard not to sound like a tour brochure or the Brandt Guide... but these parks offer an amazing range of animals, terrain and experiences. Selous has an abundance of animals -- we were in awe after our first drive from the airstrip to the camp....

Who sees a wild dog den on the first day in Africa?

Did I mention the lion?

and landscapes formed and constantly changing without man's intervention. make me ask, "how did that happen?"

I'm admitting that I am a closet twitcher. Must be -- I got too excited at my first spot which wasn't a leopard or a cheetah but rather a bird.

The ancient volcanic activity that formed Ruaha provides breathtaking landscapes and the animals are abundant and varied but the baobobs that invade the landscape of this park brought to mind Tolken’s Ents and had me expecting Hobbits under every tree.

Katavi, a remote and largely ignored park with few visitors gave us glimpses of amazingly large herds of ellies and cape buffalo, massive crocodiles and pods of hippos– I imagine it as a real view of how Africa must have been before safari camps, landrovers and tourists. While we were there, only seven other visitors roamed the 4000 square kilometer park and less than 500 people visited the park in all of 2009. The animals are less used to humans, more recently impacted by poaching activity and, not surprisingly, less willing to have us close by. Perhaps, as it should be for we just don’t live in a Hick’s Peaceable Kingdom painting. More pics later -- I have to pay for the next trip tomorrow...

On my way back to Africa and yes, I have had my shots.

2010-06-27T14:32:00.000-04:00

Southern Tanzania 2010

Curious that the first question most people ask is about shots and it is a question virtually everyone asks. My first thoughts of Africa are always of deplaning into the dry savanna air. Dust particles, driven by the wind from herds of wildebeest, zebra and cape buffalo crossing the winter earth in search of water, are visible in beams of the African sun. The smell of smoke is there– sometimes slight, the tendrils from a cooking fire – sometimes heavy, the fires of the season that run across the savanna like the herds chased by the flames. And I smell the sage and mopani. Sage so strong the lion rolls among the woody branches to mask her presence as she hunts. The scent of mopani, the elephants’ favorite, with its leaves looking like cartoon renditions of an elephant’s ears, gently stings my nostrils – a sharp smell familiar from another place in my subconscious.

Colors crowd my memory – the blues of the African skies made deeper in contrast to the vast expanses of the golden grasses. Bright splashes of color worn by the birds seem a dare to their predators. Blood red, too, because there is death here -- necessary to life.

And then I think of settling into the routine of the bush…. Early, biting cold mornings hugging a tin coffee cup to warm my hands, hearing the guides speculating on the direction of the lion’s roar heard in the night and walking in the footsteps of the elephant that came through camp while we slept....

So, those are my anticipatory thoughts but perhaps, before the rich memories of my first trip and those that followed, I thought about shots, too….. but I don’t remember.

This trip is all Tanzania – the southern circuit which more remote than any area that I have visited in Africa. First stop in the bush….. Selous Game Reserve.

Parts of this reserve date back to 1896; it is the largest reserve in Africa covering 55,000 square km.

The Rufiji River which bisects the reserve, provides a home for a large population of hippos and crocodiles, and a riverine habitat that creates perfect hunting conditions for leopard. Farther from the river, a more savanna like terrain is perfect for cheetah. The lion population hunts wherever it wants.

We stay at the “luxurious” Rufiji River Camp.
http://rufijirivercamp.com/

Then we fly “by light aircraft” (another way of saying a really, really tiny plane flown by someone who has chosen a life of no FAA regulations and who dodges elephants and cape buffalo on dirt landing strips. He also doesn’t look like Robert Redford – at all) to Ruaha -- Tanzania’s largest national park with rugged and striking terrain. In a convergence zone where northern and southern hemisphere mammals overlap and on the path of migratory birds, there is remarkable diversity in the wildlife.

http://www.tanzaniasafaris.info/Ruaha/accomodation.htm

From the largest to the smallest – Katavi has only 200 to 600 visitors per year perhaps because it is inhabited by the spirit, Katabi – or because it is difficult to reach with limited access to most areas. The wildlife is abundant and I can’t wait!!

http://www.tanzaniasafaris.info/Katavi/accomodation.htm

More when I return.... I'm off to find new wonders, African repayment talismans and ancient tribal dances to invoke spells....

Order Out of Chaos

2009-10-18T00:05:00.002-04:00

Palm Beach Photographic Centre
Juried Exhibition
November 13, 2009 - January 3, 2010

Sunset Tree

2009-02-26T18:08:00.005-05:00

A recent weekend camping trip (yes, me, camping) gave me an opportunity to see a remote part of the Everglades and experience this area in a very different way.

On the southwest coast of Florida there are small islands reachable only by boat and populated mostly by mangroves and racoons. The trees are twisted and weathered from exposure to hurricanes. The night skies only show the remotest glow from the far off city lights and the stars seem close enough to touch. Sunrise and sunset was an amazing time -- sometimes with so much color that is seemed someone had cranked up the saturation in photoshop.

This photo from the trip has been selected for exhibition in the 2009 Boca Raton Museum of Art - The Art School Exhibit from March 3 through April 10, 2009. Needless to say, I am very pleased!

Windows, Doors and Diamonds

2008-12-05T12:57:00.007-05:00

While there are still stories to tell, this post just revels in a few of the doors, windows and random colors that captured my attention....

Terra red walls and leather

Stained glass reflections

Through sunset colored windows

Diamonds and stars

Moroccan Travels

2008-11-14T17:58:00.011-05:00

The car takes us only so far and then we follow a gravel road on foot toward a collection of quonset huts; mud and rock walls roofed with bits and pieces of tin and plastic. A young girl quietly falls into step with Fazia, our guide. Chickens and roosters scramble at our approach to the first hut. The door sits slightly askew in its makeshift frame and on the roof, a small solar panel is angled to catch the sun. It is perhaps large enough to power a few electric lights. There is no electricity in this village, no water and no sewage.

A broad smile lights the face of the woman who opens the door and calls a greeting. She speaks no English so our communication is through Fazia. Despite the language barrier, her openness, her smile, her eyes welcome us. Aicha is dressed simply and functionally; her age is hard to determine but she seems an easy leader. She manages the project that brings us here.

Other women join our little group as we climb a small steep hill that forms the buffer in front of the village. We reach the crest of the hill and, in the distance, I see the source of their building materials – the city dump of Ifrane, a wealthy resort town in the Atlas Mountains.

Modernization, climate change and the continued desertification has affected each of Morocco’s citizens differently. This group of Berber shepherding families less able to survive by their traditional means has squatted here for access to that which the rich discard. When combined with shepherding services, the dump’s assets provide basic subsistence; however, without something more, they will never break the cycle that holds them in the last century.

At the base of the other side of the hill, is a group of huts that represent hope and the future of this village. Building on the knowledge and skill of a few of the women, the village has become the site of a hand loomed wool rug making cooperative. With the help of the local university and donations from Morocco, the US and Canada, primitive looms have been built, wool sourced and the women of the village trained to weave rugs and other small items for sale to tourists and through outlets that specialize in hand crafted items. A chicken moves from its roosting place next to one of the wooden string looms as we enter the first hut.

I bought a sweater once in Piccadilly Market in London – it was a wonderful gray and white Irish bulky knit. Handmade by Irish lasses of yarn spun by Irish spinners from the sheep shorn by Irish lads after grazing on rich Irish lands…. I loved it. I loved the thought of it and especially the feel of it – the yarn had a rough texture with the slight feel of the lanolin still in it. And, it was a bargain, to boot! I held it to my face in the cold outdoor market and it had a rich, sweet, earthy smell that I still associate with warmth.

Ducking through the doorway into the hut in Tarmilat, I smell the same warmth. The only light comes from the doorway and two openings in the roof farther in the room. From behind the looms, the women begin to bring out their designs – some masterful, some more primitive –all beautiful colors and each with a tag identifying the woman who wove it so that when it sells, they know who gets the proceeds.

Soon there is a pile of rugs of every size, bags, purses, and runners strewn on the dirt floor in front of us. Each is tagged with a price in Moroccan dirhams. I pick up a bag of a rich brown and blue pattern with cream fringe and convert the price to about US$8.75.

I had determined not to buy anything while in Morocco (no room in the suitcase) and certainly nothing wool as there is more to my Piccadilly Market story: I was scheduled to leave London the day after buying my lovely Irish sweater. I somehow stuffed it into my duffle that night but I was already developing buyer’s remorse. Indoors and without the benefit of a brisk cold breeze, my sweater smelled a bit stronger – like the sheep might still be attached to it.

The return flight from the UK is numbing and I’m sure I didn’t give my Irish sweater another thought until I opened my bag on my bedroom floor and gained overwhelming respect for the plight of a shepherd. Unzipping my bag, I was met with the odor of what was surely a whole herd of woolly creatures. My wonderful bargain and everything else in my bag was redolent with the smell of sheep. Many launderings eventually dulled the smell and it still hangs in my closet as a reminder against romantic shopping notions.

So, I wasn’t initially inclined to buy until, as I picked up each piece, I saw the reaction of the women and children that watched me judge their work. There was pride, there was appreciation that I was there, and there was hope.

In the close, still air of the hut, I held a wool panel made by the oldest woman in the cooperative to my face and breathed deeply – no sheep, only warmth.

Fazia and the oldest member of the cooperative

I came home with several pieces, wonderful memories of meeting these women and a deep admiration for their determination.

Moroccan Travels... Donkeys and Diesel

2008-11-07T10:19:00.022-05:00

Through passport control in the modern Casablanca Airport we descend an escalator into masses of swirling white robes in baggage claim. We reach the bottom as three robed women pass hurriedly by and I catch the scent of roses that lends to my impression of being amid a host of angels. Men and women are distinguishable mainly by their head dress. The women, with white scarves wrapped securely over their heads, mostly veiled but some not, sort and search through baggage. Men, heads topped with white round close fitting caps, look regal and important as they talk seriously and with animation to airline employees. I don't understand Arabic so I assume it is the universal “lost baggage” query. Despite the guide books and internet research, nothing has prepared me for the uniformity of dress that surrounds me as I stand expectantly by the baggage carousel. I pray my bags show up.

As I listen to the cacophony of voices around me, I wonder why I am here. Southern Africa has come to feel a bit like home to me – when I step off the airplane I can feel and smell the difference in the air. It is familiar and evokes a sense of evolution in me. I am never ready to leave. I wonder if I’ll come to feel that kind of connection with the northern end of the continent over the next two weeks.

From the onset, I am struck by the contrasts.

On the way from the airport to Fez, the car radio plays a mixture of 70’s disco – Donna Summer’s “Hot Stuff”, “Night Fever” by the BeeGees and other artists I haven’t heard for years. Disco is interspersed occasionally with a Moroccan tune. I find it strange; our driver doesn’t understand. Soon Sayeed interrupts our drive and conversation about his passion for American movies, TV and his budding acting career. We pull into a very modern looking gas station to rival anything seen along US expressways. It offers petrol, restrooms, a convenience store, a fast food restaurant and a prayer room to accommodate the devote in their call to pray that comes five times a day. We “rest”, Sayeed prays.

We drive on and pass donkeys and camels dragging wooden plows through fields making slightly ragged patchworks on the hill sides.

Over the next two weeks these low tech plows are a regular sight. Then, out of the blue, John Deere will loom on the horizon amid fields manicured to perfection by a combustion engine.
Still, donkeys are the Ford F-150’s of Morocco.

From the rooftop of our riad, I can peer onto a neighbor’s roof and watch her squat next to a flame fueled by a small bright blue tank of propane gas. A steaming pot perches above the heat balanced on a flimsy metal stand; garlic and onion waft my way. The robed pot watcher stirs the ancient vessel with a coarse wooden spoon and speaks rapid Arabic into her hot pink cell phone replete with camera. Oversized satellite dish antennae attached to the highest part of the roof seem to watch her as she cooks as her grandmother did while enjoying the best of new communication technology.

In the market, sides of meat and a sheep’s head hang in the open air stalls unprotected from flies while in the background sit huge stainless refrigeration units.

All over I am met with the juxtaposition of modernity overlaid starkly on the last century.

Scantily clad images peer down from billboards that tower above groups of Muslim women covered from head to toe. Only their eyes visible as they wait for the traffic light to signal them across the street and away from the tasteless advertising for a western product.

Nikes and espadrilles peak from beneath djellabas, the caftan like garment of many Moroccans. There is a plethora of western brand names….

And products available...

Yamahas wait by ancient gates…

Boys in jeans and leather jackets slip past traditionally dressed contemplative men in the markets. No apology, no defiance – it is simply a world with one foot planted firmly in this century and another, seemingly, in the last.

As the time passes, I am struck, too, by the warmth of the people, the mysterious glimpse we are allowed of their complex culture, the colors, the foods... so, more stories to come.

The Most Difficult Animal To See...

2007-10-12T15:58:00.000-04:00

Memories of past safaris are rekindled easily on my current trip...

Cheetahs are sleek, amazingly fast and powerful. I imagine that capturing a defenseless impala or wildebeest will be easy for the three cheetah males we track in the Savuti area of Botswana. We stalk them much like they stalk their prey. Knowing only that they were seen in the area yesterday, the open land rover patrols several kilometers of a dried up channel, the perfect hunting ground for cheetahs. All afternoon, binoculars scan the raised banks, stopping to examine termite mounds carefully as Tony Reumerman, our Wilderness Safaris guide, has explained that cheetahs favor the vantage point of these structures.

The light begins to change to golden and the cats show themselves.

The coalition of three males move down the channel at a relaxed pace. They look hungry with mouths slightly open and bellies obviously empty.

A small herd of wildebeest grazes at the widest point in the river of grass. The brothers stop, interested in the proximity of the "made by committee" animals. They separate and watch.

Crouched, ears back, their muscles show a slight twitch of anticipation.

I think of Pico, my cat, and the similarity of the hunter’s stance. The difference being that Pico relies heavily on the can opener rather than the moles she toys with in the backyard.

One by one, they begin to approach the herd with agonizing slowness. First, they move along the edge of the channel and then, creep closer through the grass.

I am not sure how I will feel when the cheetahs kill but I have developed a kinship with these brothers after hearing their story. They move up and down the Savuti channel avoiding lion activity and sometimes loosing their prey to the hyenas that also call the area home. One of the brothers limps, perhaps from an encounter with a lion or hyena, and clearly couldn’t survive on his own.

I am rooting for the brothers as they approach the wildebeest – until I suspect that they will single out a youngster born only months before in the spring. Suddenly, with incredible speed, they sprint toward their prey. The herd only becomes aware of the danger when the cats are almost upon them. It seems hopeless and I am not sure I can watch.

Late afternoon into the twilight is my favorite time of day on safari. While I hate for the days to end, it is the part of day I wish would stretch out, extend, and last forever.

First, the late afternoon light is golden and it enriches the colors of the African landscape and turns the dry season air to gold dust.

Then, there are the sunsets, always different, always spectacular.

The animals begin to get active – either heading for a drink and out of harms way, or coming out into the safety of the dark to forage or hunt. Either getting up or bedding down, everyone is doing something.

Tanzanian parks require safari activities cease by dark and so, this year, we race to make it back to camp each evening. Something of interest to photograph or to watch always delays us.

In Tarangire, the road to camp runs along the edge of a lush swamp. Each night we watch the moon rise as elephants take one last drink

or have a mud bath at water’s edge.

Trees take on a different shape as birds choose a roosting spot. When vultures roost, it looks eerily like Halloween. This year, open billed storks roosting look more like Saturday morning cartoons.

Heckyl and Jeckyll

Over the years, as I have ticked off “most wanted” sightings from my list, cheetahs remain, for since that first trip to Africa and the remarkable hunting scene; I have only had one other brief glimpse of a cheetah.

Now, in the fading light, with only moments before our curfew, we come upon two cheetahs flanking the road back to Oliver's Camp. Despite the hour, we stop and it is easy to see the cats are alert; they look ready to hunt.

I think back to the cheetahs in Botswana and visualize the hunt again in my mind. Three cheetahs against a small herd of wildebeests with several young in their midst -- seems like bad odds for the wildebeests. Nature evens the playing field with funny curved horns, tricks and agility. The wildebeests scatter, some run in circles, some run behind the cheetahs. In the dust they kick up, I can’t distinguish the adults from the young, the young from the cheetahs. That is the point, I realize, as I watch in amazement as out of the dust, a phalanx of adult wildebeests forms to march on their attackers and separate them from the rest of the herd.

Score one for the wildebeests but the brothers go hungry. How many times do they try and fail?

In Tarangire, I want to follow this pair of cats to their hunt just like I followed the Botswana cheetahs. I want to see if their luck or skill is better. The park rules and we move on to camp.

Murky twilight is perfect for hunting however, not for photography. Before dinner, I check my photos of the pair and see only unrecognizable blur. Fortunately, Jill Snyder's luck (and skill!) was better and she captured this wonderful image of one of bothers in truly difficult lighting conditions.

Hopes of getting a better look at this pair of cheetah are gone -- we are off to the Serengeti the next day. With its vast plains, the Serengeti also provides prime hunting grounds for cheetah and my search begins anew.

Every time a kopje comes into view I scan it hopefully as the elevation provides a great survey position for cats.

Robert, our guide, hears there is a cheetah in the area and we search, driving back and forth along the plain. It is a male, we are told. He has eaten recently and is resting from his exertions in tall grass hidden from our view. We look for the smallest sign of movement. His tail flips to chase flies trying to land on the blood still clinging in places to his fur. The motion gives him away and we drive closer.

He is beautiful. Healthy and regal, he feeds easily on the herds of wildebeest traveling through the area as they migrate to the northern plains in search of fertile grasslands. In this photo by Carl Zanoni, he has captured “The Hunter” perfectly.

Yet, as he rolls on the ground, it is hard to imagine a killer.

A group of wildebeest move close to his resting spot; he forgets he has just eaten and instinct takes over. He begins to stalk them and I think he will hunt. His full belly brushes the ground perhaps reminding him he is full and slow.

He decides to just watch.

The fate of the cheetah brothers in Botswana? They finally make a kill. We get word the next morning. A night of keeping the wildebeests on edge wearies the herd and the cats succeed in separating out one of the young. They made their kill less than a kilometer from camp.

Thanks to Jill and Carl for letting me share their photos. The best part of a photography based trip is the chance to meet and learn from other photographers. More of Jill’s photos can be seen at http://www.photosbyjilles.com/, the site for Jill E. Snyder Photography.

The most difficult animal to see...
...is the one you haven't seen.
Cheetahs remain near the top of my list.

Photographic Memories

2007-09-28T17:59:00.002-04:00

Going through my pictures of Africa is like reading a journal. I recall the smell of the air, the morning chill and the thrill of a flash of color in the corner of my eye signaling a bird that might be one I have never seen before. Looking at this year's photos sends me back to past trips to renew and remember. My memories are filled with anecdotes, tales of the bush and of the animals.

Great guides tell little stories of the land, the people and the animals to fill the waiting that is a safari.

As I sit by a bend in the river watching for the herd of elephants that frequently come to drink at this time of day, the stories come out quite naturally. Robert, our guide in the Serengeti, rambles that the horned group of impala drinking are a bachelor herd all either too young or too old to earn and keep their own harem. Once a buck gains control of a herd, their reward is short-lived. They will spend so much time keeping other males away and expelling, from the herd, the maturing male offspring of the harem, they won’t have time to eat.

Within three months, they grow too weak to defend their territory and are overthrown to join a bachelor herd, and, hopefully, regain their strength to fight their way back to power.

The ellies arrive and I watch the interactions of the family group.

The guide explains that the tusked bull elephant that shakes his head at us is really just a preteen testing his prowess...

and it will soon be time for him to strike out on his own with the other bulls. The real power rests with the matriarch of the group. Intelligent creatures, aren’t they?

Moving on to another area, I learn that Dikdik’s are monogamous, living together in pairs rather than in herds. If you see one dikdik, there is likely to be another close by. Amazingly, they don’t need water to survive and will the stay in the same territory for as long as it remains safe and the vegetation is adequate. Bush suburbia.

So, when I look at my photos, they are more than the animals within them – I hear their stories, picture their antics, wonder at their fate.

Birds have been Africa’s surprise gift to me beginning with my first guide, Tony Reumerman of Wilderness Safaris. He has a way of sharing his knowledge of these creatures that sparks my interest to know more.

Now, after several years, one of the things I most look forward to on any trip, is finding a few new bird species.

Thinking about great guides and past sightings prompted me to add a post to last year's chronicle which even has sound effects along with a comedic kingfisher sequence. http://wild-eyed-cam.blogspot.com/2007/09/caped-crusader-and-kingfishers-dinner_28.html

With each new trip, I meet different guides. The constant is that the longer they have guided, the more they seem to appreciate the diversity and complexity of birdlife and that the better the guides appreciate the avian inhabitants of their world more.

I am delighted to find that Njano, our local guide in Tarangire, has a special knowledge of birds having worked earlier in his career with avian researchers. To capture birds for banding, researchers set up thin nets in roosting areas. When the sun comes up, the birds naturally try to leave the roost and fly into the net. One of Njano’s jobs was to go out early in the morning to band the birds before they had been in the net too long. His knowledge goes beyond what guide books can teach.

In Tarangire we keep seeing Secretary birds beginning the mating rituals of nest building and courtship. Named for the pen like quills that adorn their crowns, they perform elaborately.

A new one for me --the Yellow Necked Spurfowl -- so ugly, he's cute.

Fish Eagles are abundant. Similar to our Bald Eagle in looks and origin, they always make me think about how closely we are all related despite seemingly overwhelming distances.

An African Wood Hoopoe content to pose.

And this is the year of the ostrich! While I had seen a number of ostrich in Namibia, and a few sprinkled throughout other places in Africa, they love Tanzania.

For once, grass in the right place, at the right time.

And this is Njano, our guide from TrueAfrica. Special thanks to you!

The Caped Crusader and the Kingfisher's Dinner

2007-09-28T17:49:00.000-04:00

The birds of Africa add great beauty, interest and a few laughs to my adventures. Their antics and habits are fascinating, sometimes comical. Also, thought provoking.

Wandering through the Okavango Delta, our guide, Tony Reumerman, of Wilderness Safaris, points out the Slaty egret. I learn that the Slaty Egret is a red data species-- critically endangered -- and this sighting is "really quite special", in Tony's words. Then we see a Black Egret and his unusual fishing style. Looking like your normal, everyday egret,

he turns into the caped crusader to lure fish into a seemingly protective shadow.

Then, of course, he zaps them!

On a remote island near Xigera in the Delta, while the morning is still cool and fresh, we crane our necks to look up into the thick, overhanging branches to search out the elusive and, again, critically endangered Pel’s Fishing Owl. Finally, Sam, our local guide sees a splash of golden color among the leaves.

We stay for a while hoping he may call to us but I will have to be content with this recording of what I might have heard. http://www.owlpages.com/sounds/Scotopelia-peli-1.mp3
It is time to allow him to return to his solitude.

When I look at this magnificent creature it is difficult to comprehend that within a few years, none may survive. Man continues to encroach on his habitat and their numbers decline in some areas at the rate of 25% per year. My grandchildren probably will never have the chance to see this rare species.

With over 3500 animal species threatened or endangered, there are creatures that will become extinct before I have the chance to see them, nevermind my grandchildren. If I were to see one endangered species a day, it would take .... Well, you do the math.

Thinking positively, I could run out of animals to see in that ten year period because we reverse the trend of endangering species by protecting habitats, reducing the use of chemicals and slowing global warming. But I could also run out of animals to see because they become extinct before I get to them.

Late afternoon and a happy ending...

Late afternoon and everyone starts thinking about dinner and a drink.

After a day of grazing, the buffalo, the impala and the els pick late afternoon for a last drink before dark.

Wild dogs don’t fair well against mightier predators so they want dinner in the late afternoon before competition comes on the scene.

The Pied Kingfisher needs to be able to see to hunt. Hovering above the water looking for his prey, he dive bombs his target and then, according to the bird books, will either hit it against a branch to kill it or sometimes, will drop it repeatedly on a rock.

Looking for wild dogs this afternoon, we find a kingfisher that hit the mother load of fish..... She looks so proud holding dinner in her beak…

We watch as she gets the fish positioned properly to swallow it.

At this point, it doesn’t seem possible. Kingfisher versions of “The one that got away…” dance through my mind.

Then, she throws her head back and brings the fish down on her perch with incredible force.

After several whacks against the branch, she tries again, to get the fish in her beak.

Still no go.

Whack, whack, whack…. She tries again. Aha! Not just to kill her prey does the kingfisher beat her catch, she wants to pulverize it so it will go down easier!

This is hard work and she looks a little ruffled.

She seemed to be saying, “What was I thinking?”

Finally!

Well, maybe not. The fish seemed to be stuck –

Not going in, but not able to come out for further tenderizing. I wonder how many kingfishers are found feet up at the base of a tree with beak half stuffed with a fish just too big to swallow. Gluttony!

She stretched her neck…

Almost too slowly to see, she made progress.

And ever so slowly,

the fish disappeared…

Kingfisher smile...

Most amazing is that she immediately flies off to another branch to watch the river flowing below presumably looking for dessert.

Gnu Gnights

2007-09-17T20:10:00.001-04:00

Our stay in the northern Serengeti by the Mara River is planned to witness the wildebeest migration. Over one million of these gentle, but funny looking animals must cross the Mara in a perpetual migratory pattern to follow the fertile grasslands. Approaching Sayari camp from the air, however, the thousands of dark spots dotting the landscape look insignificant and dwarfed by the vast Serengeti plains.

From the airstrip to camp, a line of wildebeests gallop across the dirt roadway we travel, halting our progress. These gangly beasts, and all animals, have the right of way in the park.

So, not to worry, right? But the galloping line keeps coming, mostly single file, sometimes by twos or threes. We sit and wait. When the line began, it didn’t occur to me to try to count how many go by, like cars on a freight train. I wish I had.

Spotting a small break in the herd, we leave the place where our paths intersect and make our way to camp. In my mind, I may have thought, “ah, so these are the wildebeests that we have come to photograph...“ How incomplete was my picture of the herds gathering near the banks of the Mara River.

Night Visitors
After dinner that night, my first at Sayari, I had the obligatory camp safety lecture which, unlike the airline spiel at the commencement of a flight, I always listen to. I received the usual caution to expect nighttime visitors. Likely ungulates grazing near camp but, where there are grazers, there are predators.

Night visitors for me, in the past, have run the gamut from hippos to centipedes. Elephant and leopard have graced the surrounds of my tent. A lion has roared RIGHT OUTSIDE and a genet and mice have visited me inside.

Hippos generally make the most noise, grunting and chortling as they munch their way through camp. Elephants can rank right up there as they pull down small trees to sate their appetites. The most thrilling night walker is the lion as the close up sound of his roar reverberates through your whole being; your heart stops and you wonder if it is okay to breath.

Bright yellow earplugs insure that I sleep through nighttime visitations; I rely on the kindness of my roommate to wake me for really exciting stuff. This night, clattering inside the tent and a strange lowing coming from outside brings me to consciousness. Tent poles shake on impact as something hits the side of the tent replicating the clatter that first wakened me. Lowing seems to come from all around. I creep from bed and stand by the thin curtain that covers the screened tent wall – all that is between me and whatever is out there. I hesitate before I pull back the curtain, uncertain of what I will see and more, of what might see me.

The tent shakes again and I draw back the curtain just a bit. Soft light from the almost full moon glistens off the shiny coats of the hundreds of wildebeests that surround our tent. Heads down and oblivious to the camp’s presence, they simply go where there is grass. They can’t eat the tent, so, except for the absent minded bumps while on their way to the next clump of grass, they leave us alone.

I watch as they mingle in the huge plain in front of our tent . Intermixed in the crowd, I see a zebra or two. The low mooing reminds me of a huge herd of cattle and the clattering effect of the occasional bumps to our tent replicates the sounds of cow bells. Finally, I lay back down falling asleep to their bass song. Will this group cross tomorrow? My alarm sounds at 5am and the silence tells me they have moved on in the night.

We are out early the next morning, stopping at times to photograph the sunrise, an impressive trail of safari ants, a Thompson’s gazelle. Totally involved in the gazelle, a familiar sound makes me look to the back, then to the sides.

I am surrounded by wildebeests and they cover the vista as far as I see. I begin to get a sense of the magnitude of what is to come.

Two groups that make up part of the one million migrating wildebeest are converging on the river at the same time. But they don’t just come to the river and cross. The Mara river runs swiftly and is strewn with rocks on which fat crocodiles await the weaker swimmers. Steep banks mean a long drop into the rapid currents. It is with great reluctance that they begin the crossing and, I am told, it sometimes takes several days of milling about, scouring the surrounding plains to be sure there is no source of food on this side of the river before the first wildebeest will cross which, in turn, spurs the rest of the herd to action.

A half million zebras and tommies (Thompson’s gazelles) accompany the wildebeests finding safety in the masses making this trek. Weakened by the dwindling food supply and the pressure to keep up with the herd, there are always a contingent of tired wildebeest that are prime targets for predators. What cheetah mother with hungry cubs to feed wouldn’t opt for a weak gnu rather than risk the perils of a serious chase with a gazelle?

We watch them mill about, moving this way or that, sometimes with purpose, sometimes aimlessly. The closer they get to the river, the more insistent, the more impatient their calls. Something spooks them and a large group stampedes away from the river.
I wonder how long we will have to wait for a crossing.

Gnu Nights II – The Sequel

My award for most annoying night visitor goes to the mouse whose sharp little toenails skitter against the canvas of our tent during the first night at Oliver’s Camp in Tarangire. He runs laps inside the perimeter of the tent all night until a badly thrown boot convinces him to find a way out. His teeth marks leave evidence of the object of his desire and a deal with the little devil is struck with the sacrifice of our daily ration of lemongrass soap. Each night, the offering is left in the open air bathroom part of the tent and I sleep peacefully for the remainder of my stay. Cartoon visions of mouse with extended belly and soap bubbles belching forth from his mouth continually plague my roommate for the remainder of the trip.

The second night in Sayari, very tired, I fall into bed and asleep without my earplugs. Gentle lowing wakes me and I creep to the tent opening to see wildebeest and zebra grazing on what I have come to think of as my front lawn. Many more than last night.

Too tired to watch, I am back in bed and begin to drift off . Suddenly, the lowing is drowned out by the sound of stampeding hooves. The tent shakes violently as the herd crashes into the tent with force that knocks water bottles, toothbrushes and tin cups to the floor. But, before I register fear in my narcoleptic stupor, it is over. The spooked herd has moved on. My heart's pounding slows,and as I fall back to sleep, I wonder what spooked them – a flush in the night?

The Crossing
There are two types of safaris – the drive, drive, drive type where you drive and hope you and animal action will intersect randomly. And the sit and wait type where you find a likely spot – a watering hole, a likely river crossing spot, a plain where cheetah are known to hunt, and you wait for the action to happen. Given the option, always choose the latter! We miss a couple of crossings by being on the drive, drive, drive cycle and finally, on our second to the last day, with the hope of seeing a crossing fading, we demand that we wait it out.

Two herds have come together from opposite directions both previously seeming to have a purpose, a plan. Now, milling together by the steep river banks, the lowing becomes more insistent, more frantic. The mooing softens. A small group breaks away and moves downstream, a few lay down, conserving energy. There is no way to tell where, when or if, they will cross today but we settle down to wait.

Vultures begin to gather. If there is a crossing, some wildebeests won’t survive.

Each movement in the jeep causes a rustle that breaks the silence we try to keep. Nothing to say – we have been together for 10 days shooting everything but the crossing we have come so far to see. We’re tired – the days have been long with pre-dawn wake up calls and sleep broken by our nightly visitors. But the wait is good; it is our chance. Finally, the radio crackles – from down the river, a call from another guide, waiting as we are. It has begun.

The jeep careens to a place on the steep bank downriver from the spot the wildebeest have chosen to cross.

We spill from the jeep. My camera cord is stuck on the seat and it takes a moment to free. The lowing is loud, frantic. The dust from the herd clouds the air. I can see the herd but I can’t see my guides. Along the top of the bank, I see another guide from camp – I move toward him and the herd. The lowing is louder and I see the first of the struggling animals reaching the other side. I follow the swimming line back to this bank and watch with utter amazement as one after another thousands of wildebeests jump into the swiftly running Mara River.

Some launch themselves forward over the backs of other crossers,

some seek to descend the steep bank before entering the water.

A large portion of the herd come toward us as they put off the inevitable and look for a better place to begin the crossing. There is none.

I am struck by the strength of instinct, of migratory drive, of the drive for survival. As I watch one particularly spectacular leap into the river, I wonder when an action is no longer an act of instinct but an act of courage.

Some swim out, then turn back.

Once in the river, they swim with purpose losing some ground to the current but making it to the landing place. At times, a sense of fear pervades my consciousness yet, I am not in danger.

All except one in this crossing seems to make it to the rocks on the other side. A calf, born in February of this year, is too weak to fight the current. I see, but I can't watch. I try to block out the sounds of the mother calling to her struggling offspring from the bank.

Rocks offer no purchase in the torturous climb out of the river and up the opposite bank.

Once over the rocks, they swarm like ants up the far bank.

Legs wobble and shake with this final effort.

The exhaustion is visible as they pull themselves up the bank.

This three stage drama plays continuously for 40 minutes. Suddenly, the portion of the herd remaining on this side of the river stops and moves away from the bank. No more will cross for now; the herd will be split. The animals that crossed look back from the far bank expectantly, but after a few moments, move on to the yet ungrazed plains on the north side of the river.

We move on,too. I, as yet, am without the right words. Perhaps, without the right questions. I do know I am moved far beyond my expectations.

African Skies

2007-09-10T12:21:00.002-04:00

Africa comes rushing to meet me each time I visit!

Our flight from Amsterdam arrives at 8PM so Ngare Sero Lodge is our first overnight stop in Arusha before moving out into the bush in the morning. The lodge dates back to the early 1900s and is on a spring fed lake that attracts over 200 different bird species and supports troops of Sykes and Colobus monkeys. Of course, I want to explore! There is a grove of bananas in bloom and lush tropical gardens I want to photograph. The lodge itself is worthy of my camera’s eye. But, we’re on the road at 8:30am and I hope for time to photograph what I have missed at the end of the trip.

On the road out of Arusha, there are roadside kitchen gardens and intricate and artfully formed outbuildings of sticks and mud to captivate me. Camels and stout, healthy looking donkeys carry wood and water. Wealth measuring herds of cattle are tended by tall, thin men swathed in the bright colors of the Masai and Bantu. Large 4 foot sections of logs dangle in the air from the canopies of tall trees with a single loop of thick rope. ?? Beehives! But, we’ll never make it to our camp in Tarangire if we stop for photos so – another reason to return to Africa!

Once in Tarangire National Park , we drive, our focus on the area between the vehicle and the horizon looking for movement, an anomaly, or a spot of color – either dark, indicating elephant, cape buffalo or wildebeest, or golden, slightly darker than the tall grasses dried from the winter drought, indicating one of the many species of antelope or lion. But my gaze keeps straying to the sky and its incredible blue color dotted with brilliant white clouds.

As the days pass, the animals are amazing, engaging, exciting but the skies stretching over Tanzania continually draw my attention and fascinate me. There is a deceptive sameness to the landscape at first glance but the skies are ever changing. One morning, I watched the moon set in clouds that grace the Sistine Chapel – Michelangelo’s hand, surely.

The canvas is washed clean every night and then, with the morning light, the masters begin their play across the skys of Tanzania.

Some mornings, Turner’s dramatic strokes brush the sunrise sky before Sisley paints billowing white puffs against a canvas so blue as to make it seem unreal.

An afternoon storm is the hand of Denis.

Van Gogh's vibrant colors streak the sunset.

Out of the dark will come another clean canvas and I wonder who will paint next.

But the real reasons for coming to Africa are the animals – right?

Next: Crossing the River

Africa 2007

2007-08-16T11:05:00.000-04:00

On the road again….

To Amsterdam on the 19th and the flower markets, the canals, Anne Frank’s house and the Van Gogh Museum. And time to acclimate to the time zone before traveling on to Tanzania on the 23rd of August.

We fly into Kilimanjaro Airport but I am skipping the mountain this year. The view from the plane will have to do!

We get into Tanzania at 8PM so our first night is at Ngare Sero Mountain Lodge in Arusha, TZ, www.ngare-sero-lodge.com. A very quaint looking little spot although we won’t get much of a chance to look around as early on the 24th we head for Oliver’s Camp in Tarangire National Park, TZ, www.asilialodges.com/index.php?id=4.
Follow the links or cut and paste the url into your browser... They really are good websites and fun to check out.

Tarangire is smaller and much more remote than the Serengeti but has a great concentration of animals and the park permits walking safaris.

We then fly to the northern Serengeti on the 28th to spend the rest of our time at Sayari Camp on the Mara River, www.asilialodges.com/index.php?id=1. The camp is mobile so that as the wildebeest migration occurs, the camp can be situated in the best place.
Then back through Amsterdam on September 4th in route to home which I’ll reach on the 5th.

I almost commented on how long the trip is but I have been reading about some of the early expeditions to Africa when the only way to go was by ship, camel and foot. Granted, there was no one in the seat in front of those early travelers reclining the seat into their laps but I’ll still count my blessings!

Obviously, more when I return!

Returning to Africa

2007-07-27T09:51:00.000-04:00

It is late afternoon by the time we arrive at the airport and there are miles still to go before we reach camp. Yet, I stop for the first namaqua dove scratching in the dirt of the roadway. I stop for the first herd of cape buffalo enshrouded in a cloud of the dry earth that marks the season. I stop for the first blood red sunset filtering through the acacia trees, dust motes dancing and swirling in the riotous light. The light fades and the colors dim to the pastels of Africa. Each is a first -- but only for this trip.

Every time I return to Africa, I vow to take it more slowly, to remember every moment, to write down every sensation, every smell, to photograph every wonder. Hold that my eyes are mesmerized by the rich golds and browns of the landscape and the intricate patterns unbroken by macadam and concrete.

How to capture forever the sounds of the night, the dawn waking of the bush, the hum of the warm afternoons, the lyrical, patient voices of the people? My answer -- to begin slowly, deliberately, to ensnare it all in my memory.

But with every return, fresh experiences crowd my visit. I see new plants, places and animals. New antics and behaviors. An unfamiliar scent mingles with my memories – the new smell? Acacias are in bloom this year, I’ve never smelled their bright yellow blossoms.

Slashes of red mark the green and catch my eye as we speed past another plant I overlooked on my last visit. Vultures circle overhead in the distance. We reach a dry riverbed with steep banks and I take the measure of our driver as he begins the descent at what seems at least a 90 degree angle. Safely to the other side it is only minutes until he slows at movement in the bush. Lions mate. We haven’t even reached camp yet.

Before I sleep, zebra, buffalo and elephant will stare at my passage; a pair of honey badgers will lumber through the underbrush oblivious to the lights of the land rover.

With only the look in their eyes, giraffe will register my presence.

We’ll find the giant eagle owl that we hear calling; a little creature called an elephant shrew will dive from the beams of our headlights.

I will meet the staff at the camp and marvel at their fortune at working in this paradise. Over dinner, tales of the day’s adventures shared by fellow travelers will captivate me and I'll wish my arrival had been a day earlier. The warmth of the fire in the boma will envelope me and I'll grow sleepy to the sounds of the hippos in the river. Surely I’ll remember it all and have time to write it down tomorrow night.

I resolve, this year, to write more, to take it in more slowly, to absorb it all. Yet the fact that I know I will break this resolution is what brings me back year after year.

This year's adventure is Tanzania especially cherished as we had almost given up on finding a workable itinerary off the beaten path and to the places we wanted to visit. Yet, as I am excited to visit someplace new, I will miss not returning to the places I have grown to love -- Botswana, Zambia, South Africa and Namibia.

It seems I just can't spend enough time in Africa.

No Words... Just the Everglades

2007-07-15T21:46:00.000-04:00

Sex in the ....

2007-07-13T18:22:00.000-04:00

Glades....

Late in the day in the Everglades, as it begins to get cooler (relatively speaking), I walk a little more carefully and listen with a more attentive ear to the bass offerings of the pig frogs.
Pig frogs can sometimes sound a little like alligators but it is more the reverse situation that concerns me. As the heat of the afternoon sun begins to wane, gators are apt to be a bit more active.
Camera in hand, I had been looking for birds stopping for a last bit of fishing in the wetlands before heading deeper into the glades to roost for the night. It wasn’t a rattle I was expecting to hear as I walked along this fairly well traveled path in the Loxahatchee Wildlife Refuge
Loud and close, I looked quickly to determine where he was coiled. But an orange blur just to the right of the path seemed to be the source of the rattle. Never having seen a Florida rattler in the wild, I wasn’t an expert but I was pretty sure they weren’t orange.
Lo! Lover’s Lane for grasshoppers….and the wildest scene as these little critters mate. Just a blur and sounding exactly like a rattle snake, they rock side to side with the male shaking his wings furiously.

That is until they realized I was watching.
Then they looked positively guilty as if this were a clandestine tryst.

They watched me expectantly... …and then, decided to move off to a more secluded spot. They were not, however, about to break up their interlude.

Male in tow, the female began heading off into the grass... ...stopping every so often to enjoy the moment and give a little shake.

Ain't love grand?

Published!!

2007-07-12T14:13:00.000-04:00

I know its small and
they altered it from
my blog (which may
have made it better!)
but still....
its my first!

This was in the first issue - May 2007 - of Travel Zambia.
Their website is www.travelzambiamag.com however, I haven't been successful in accessing the site to view this online so here is a scan of the page.

I calculate that it takes less than a minute to read --
Does that mean I have another 14 minutes of fame coming?

First Recital

2007-06-16T18:14:00.001-04:00

Family Vacation!

2007-06-16T18:07:00.000-04:00

At Kueka Lake and around...

Jake and "Farmer John"

Then and Now

2007-06-16T16:16:00.000-04:00

Returning to my place of birth shouldn't be a sentimental journey for me. My parents moved from Skaneateles, New York, before I had my own memories of the lakeside town, the small roadside cabins they rented out to hardy vacationers in the late 40's or our wonderful neighbors.

Oh, I have vivid memories -- I remember not being able to get the car up the icy hill from town during the harsh winters, I remember hearing the cows on the neighboring farm, Mr. Fisher's strawberry patch, summer picnics, visitors that returned year after year, visits from my cousins, crisp white sheets drying in the sunshine. The memories aren't really mine; they are the sum of stories I heard time after time as I grew up. It is a suprise to me that these purloined rememberances bring a tear to my eye as I think about my visit to the old "homestead" last week.

My cousin Carolyn volunteered to drive me from Lake Kueka to Skaneateles and to help me find the old place. Armed only with a few old photos, vaguely remembered directions from my mother and old, obviously imperfect impressions, we began our quest.

We would still be looking on the wrong side of the road and at the bottom of the hill if not for Mr. Fred Coll who, upon seeing two disoriented women driving around his beautiful property (more about that later), offered his assistance. He examined the faded photos and thought he recognized the footprint of the house and the old evergreens along the property line. He directed us up the "slippery in winter hill" and across the highway, to a house not immediately recognizable as "home."

Dressed up with a new facade to match the adirondack styled mini-lodges that have replaced the cabins my parents once owned and with a different entry, it took a few minutes to look past the fluff and recognize the bones of the house. What cinched it? The stately evergreens that still tower along the property line and that are unmistakeable as nothing similar is found on any of the nearby properties.

Mr. Coll is the Facilites Manager for the company that owns the old Orchard Cabins which is now called Finger Lakes Lodging (www.fingerlakeslodging.com). It is heartwarming to see that they didn't just raze the whole place but preserved and updated our old home. Mr. Coll helped us make sure we were in the right spot, showed us the changes to the property and gave us a tour of the neighboring house as it seems they have acquired the old Fisher farm and house, too. I can't wait to see what they do with it.

The company also owns Mirbeau Inn and Spa, (www.mirbeau.com) across the street. It is a four star property and stunningly beautiful with gardens that are reminiscent of Giverny. I'm looking for an excuse to return!

Carolyn guided me around my parents' old place and the town. She shared a few dredged up memories that I will now adopt as my own in the way I think we all blend family stories with our own rememberances to create our "history." And Mr. Fred Coll - you are now part of the "Bloom/Martin" family history and legend!

Thank you both for helping me put all the pieces together and make some new memories.

Baja

2007-04-28T22:25:00.000-04:00

Baja has been on my list for a long time…

While surfing the web, I had read a moving travel piece regarding interactions with whales in San Ignacio Lagoon and I was hooked. The idea of getting close to these magnificent creatures was intriguing. But my list is pretty long and I never quite made the trip.

Until I received a DVD in the mail…. From Lindblad Expeditions, I popped it in the video player hoping to catch a glimpse of the Sea Lion, Michelle and Mark Graves, respectively, the ship, exhibition leader and captain on my trip to Alaska last year. And I did see all of them as well as an area that is breathtakingly beautiful even without whales. So off I went, to spend some one-on-one time with my daughter and hoping for whales, birds, beautiful vistas and calm seas.

The trip didn’t disappoint delivering fabulous views from both the ship and remote islands in the Sea of Cortez.

Bow-riding dolphins were a kick -- it seems we tourists provide Six-Flag type entertainment for them as they swim in front of the ship allowing the water being pushed aside by the vessel to take them for a ride.

We had calm seas, for the most part… starting off a bit rough and calming, eventually, about the time we had gained our sea legs.

The hiking was good. Dropped off on a deserted island, you can wander at will or stay close to the guides. There is a cabin tag and life jacket counting system to make sure everyone that goes ashore is back on board before they move on to the next deserted island. And I trusted the system, to a degree -- and the very presence of skulls, even though not human, served to curb my desire to wander off on my own, take the less used path, etc.

The kayaking was better!

It was a bit misty one day and a liitle windy but I wasn't worried -- afterall, the worst I could do was run into the coast of Mexico no matter which way I went.

Kayaking does offer wonderful glimpses into another world...

I am a sucker for birds with exotic sounding names. It doesn’t need to be a rare species, as long as it sounds like it should be. Give me a bird with “tropic” or “malachite” in the name and I am happy. And so I was with the chance to photograph the Red-Billed Tropic bird. Well, it was like swatting at mosquitoes in the dark. I have an untold number of pictures of rock faces and I am not sure, even with a microscope, that I could find the little devils I was trying to photograph. The shadow in this picture helped me find the bird.

And, gotcha.... sort of.

Like so many things in life, nothing compares to the actual experience. You can’t capture the grace and speed and daring of this little bird but the pictures serve to remind me of the warmth of the brilliant sun, the cool sea breeze, the sounds of the gulls and sea lions…

...particularly vocal during territorial sparring.

Of course, there are intermittent moments when the wind was just right and you catch on to the fact that no one comes along at the end of the day and cleans up after the thousands of pelicans, terns, gulls and sea lions that call this refuge home.

More pelicans in one place than I have ever seen....

Elegant terns were in courtship mode making their offers of little fish to prospective mates. "Elegant" is their name, not their style.

The caption on this next one has to read....

"That's him, Mildred... doesn't he have the cutest wing-tips?" Well, what do female terns find sexy about male terns?

This gull can't wait until it's all over.

This is Sanjaya's next career. If you don't know who Sanjaya is, that's okay. I'm sort of embarrassed that I do.

Caves via zodiac – this was cool!

And, thanks to the photographic coaching team of Rikki and Jack Swenson, I was able to get that photo!! They were an added bonus on this trip.

It is sort of embarrassing that some of my best shots were of Great Blue Herons --- there is one that visits the park by my house and I traveled to Baja for this shot – Of course, my local heron doesn’t have a cactus upon which to pose!

The whales were there – teaching us lessons in patience and flexibility. As with any wildlife excursion, flexibility is the key to a great trip – taking advantage of the moment. Lindblad does that well which assuages my fear of group travel.

So, rather than see whales one evening, we took advantage of being anchored near a whale research vessel from the Oregon State University Marine Mammal Program. We visited them, they visited us….

The program director, Bruce Mate, gave us a talk about their work but the real fun was inviting the crew to dinner aboard the Sea Lion. You see, the research vessel is “dry” and our ship wasn’t… It was great fun hearing about the adventures of whale research which involves darting these goliaths from a little, tiny, rubber, zodiac from fairly close distances in waters that aren’t always as temperate as the Sea of Cortez. The crew members from the Pacific Storm seated at our table, Craig Hayslip and Willi Schlechter, were generous with their stories and a total delight, putting up with our endless questions until it was time for the Sea Lion to lift anchor.

Our sightings of a great blue whale and a group of orcas (not really whales) were fabulous.

The orcas, killer whales, were obviously feeding on something aquatic that was too big to be swallowed whole which meant the table scraps were floating to the surface and every sea gull in the neighborhood was doing their bit with their own version of the crumb scraper. It was a two hour show that seemed over before it started.

As I go back through my pictures of the whales, they are a conglomeration of dorsal fins, flukes, and the delicate arch of the back showing the glint of the sun on wet skin. My favorite pictures however, are of the exhaled breath when these creatures come to the surface and of the rippled waters left after a dive. In their breath, you can catch a glimpse of rainbow. In the rippled waters, I see freedom and mystery.

Like so many places on my list, visiting doesn't get them off the list.... It just makes me want to go back and discover more about the place -- a delightful, never ending cycle.

These pictures (and a few not included here) may be better viewed at www.wildeyedcam.smugmug.com in the "Baja" gallery.

Up a Tree

2007-04-02T22:25:00.001-04:00

In Zambia, that is...
August, 2006

A walking safari had sounded like high adventure when we had planned this trip months prior. The thought of brushing past the fragrant mopani, sitting around a campfire at night in the manner of Isak Dinesen, and hearing the night sounds of the bush unfiltered by the safety of a safari lodge had made me yearn for this experience to begin.

But the night before we were to set off for "fly camping", second thoughts were skittering through my mind. The Aussie couple that would be joining us on the trek looked fit, hardy and as if they’d brook no laggards in their midst. They had been running up sand dunes in the Australian dessert in training whereas I had reluctantly been taking a daily stroll for the two weeks before we left home as preparation.

Safari camps are notoriously upbeat and fun places. Everyone is amazed and thrilled with all that is new to them. Stories of sightings, each better than the next, stoke the excitement. This night,however, I couldn't get caught up it the excitement. I was tired from a long travel day and we needed to leave camp at 6am the next morning to cover the most ground in the coolest part of the day. That meant getting up at 5am. I was anxious and doubted my ability to get a good night’s sleep.

My nervousness lingered through dinner as I listened to tales of walking safaris past. Finally, the snorting songs of the hippos in the river below broke through the din of human voices and the night wonders of the African bush overtook my doubts. The desire to get closer to the land and the animals I have come to love won out – I’d be fine, I told myself. Or, I wouldn’t – and wouldn’t that be a story!

The morning dawned cool and we started from camp at a brisk pace. The terrain was much rougher than I anticipated – the ground here was marred by deep fissures in the mud from the prior season's rains now dried to cement like hardness. Elephants were frequent travelers through the area and their footprints had formed mini-craters to traverse.

If I followed in the ellie footsteps, I would have a relatively flat surface on which to walk. However, I needed long, uneven strides to step from ellie footprint to footprint. It reminded me of running through automobile tires on a fitness obstacle course.

Shorter strides took me between the ellie footsteps however, the fissures, narrow though they appeared from the surface, were treacherous to the ankles unless taken “just right.”

Disregarding the terrain and just barreling forward was like being on a Stairmaster with a bad drive train – you were up and down, sometimes on flat ground, but sometimes arms akimbo to keep your balance.

I alternated between approaches, on purpose, I told myself but actually, every method taxed you differently and I could only keep up each method for so long. Each time the words, “What were you thinking?” crossed my mind, and I thought I couldn’t take another step, some wonder would appear and we would stop in awe.

Our first encounter was with hippos who were quite as surprised as I to be so close.

A steep bank gave us a memorable view and kept us safe from these creatures that garner great respect in the bush.

We stopped for small creatures, too. Just as beautiful and intricate as the big five… this dragonfly and jeweled beetle amused us for a while.

From a jeep, you sometimes miss the little details although this hardly looked small to me at the time...

Many of the animals have become habituated to jeeps. That isn’t to say they don’t respond to the jeep – they do. Some animals are skittish and take off at the sound of the motor. Others, like lions, seem oblivious to these large metal objects barreling through the bush. But whatever the reaction, it is a response to the jeep as an object. The animals don't seem to register the fact that six people -- other animals -- may be contained in the metal box that has chosen to invade their territory.

On foot, you are just another animal. And the animals seemed to show as much wonder and curiosity about us as we did about them.

Waterbuck

Puku

Giraffes have seemed to me very skittish around jeeps and would never wander near the camps where I have stayed. I was delighted with their inquisitiveness when we stopped for a short break near where they were grazing.

Did I mention being treed by a hippo?

Hippos leave the cool waters of the river at night to forage for the vast amounts of vegetation they need to sustain themselves. They were usually back in the river by the time we made our way out of camp in the morning so you can imagine our surprise (and that is an understatement) when we saw this fellow roaming about. He was obviously late returning from the party, a bit confused by the bright sun and generally appeared a bit surly.

We were between him and the river. I was beginning to figure out why the web site said, in describing the fitness level necessary for this trip, “Must be able to run at least 30 meters fast.” Well, I had lied and I was wondering if now was the time to tell Deb, our guide, about my shortcoming although somehow, I think she knew. I kept waiting for her to shout, “Run for it!”

I was weighing the alternatives. Should I try to run, knowing it wouldn’t be fast and it might not be 30 meters? Should I try to explain that I hadn’t run since my kids reached the point that they could outrun me and, if so, how did I do that while everyone else was running and in as few words as possible? Or, should I roll up in a ball and throw myself on the mercy of this hippo? I seem to remember the roll up in a ball trick from being coached on what to do if I ran into a bear while hiking and he hadn’t been frightened away by my bear bell.

Fortunately, I didn’t have to make that decision because our evasion plan called for climbing a tree rather than running. You are asking, at this moment, how I can climb a tree if I can’t run 30 meters. Ha! I was asking myself the same question.

Thus began my great affection for African termites and the huge mounds they build, abandon and which become elevated planters for trees that otherwise might be trampled by elephants. The mounds give shelter to small burrowing animals and the trees offer respite from the sun to impala and other antelope. These mounds can reach surprising heights but as we made our way to the tree about to become our salvation, I could see myself scrambling up its termite mound base much more easily than scaling its trunk.

None too soon we were huddled together at the top of the mound hugging the trunk and low hanging limbs of the tree making its home atop this ancient termite structure.

The hippo clearly spotted us but lost some element of danger when he hid behind his own tree!

Elephants

I have been physically closer to elephants than while walking through the Southern Luangwa Park.
In jeeps, elephants tend to ignore you... You can be relatively close and they know you are there. Sometimes they show some displeasure, sometimes they let you know how insignificant they think you are by their demeanor.
When they have wandered into the camps in which I have stayed, to sleep or to feed, they seem to just tolerate humans. You have invaded their territory but they know there is nothing to be done about it but they’ll be damned if they’ll let you get in the way of their favorite stand of mopani trees.
In Zambia, I felt closer – more significant. Here, I was uninvited in their territory and not part of a metal box that rendered me part of the background. Here, I was another animal – a potential threat, an uncertainty.

There are more Zambia stories to come, like, "Why it is important to know the difference between a centipede and a millipede." (Can you guess that it has something to do with its proximity to you?) and "How quickly I forget my fears...."

K-

Black & White in the Garden

2007-03-29T17:45:00.000-04:00

Jade Vine
Color awaits me in the garden.... and I love it. The color startles me; it makes me smile; it makes me breathe deeper to try to capture its essence in yet another way. And so, when I took a workshop in black and white photography and our field trip was to Morikami Gardens in Boca Raton, I was delighted to go but perplexed as to how to view all that color without seeing it -- or rather, seeing beyond it to black and white.

I'm not sure I got it that day. In fact, I am sure I didn't.
I took pictures -- lots. However, it wasn't until I got to see how some of my fellow workshop participants interpreted what we had seen that I began to get visualize the possibilities.

The photographers that took the workshop with me are an amazing and creative group of artists. Each as different as they could possibly be; each with an approach to the art that showed an intense passion for their subjects. And they were generous with their time, their ideas, their knowledge. I learned a lot from them.

Georgia O.

Jean Miele, who led the workshop, had the most to do with turning on the light bulb for me. His work is fabulous -- check it out at www.jeanmiele.com -- but, more importantly, he is one of those rare individuals that really knows how to teach. He doesn't tell you what to do but he gives you an understanding of the subject so you know what to do.

Tropical Puffs

It wasn't, however, until I found myself drawn to the Atlanta Botanical Garden last Thursday that I realized how much I had absorbed of this workshop and how much I wanted to see what I could say with black and white.

In Wait

Forms, patterns, silhouettes, and shadows were competing for my attentions along with color.

Yeah, yeah... it was spring, too. Atlanta does spring well, albeit briefly. I do miss it!

Atlanta Spring

Anonymous

Then yesterday, at Fairchild Tropical Gardens with the whimsey of Dale Chihuly's work interspresed through the gardens -- a field day!

Chilhuly's Window

Chihuly's Tears

I'll return to posting Venice photos soon... I have some great stories and met some wonderful people.

These photos might be viewed more clearly at http://wildeyedcam.smugmug.com. Blogger seems to change their methodology frequently -- sometimes it works better than others but Smugmug is usually great. I changed the blog format to facilliate pictures -- we'll see.

Venice Masked

2007-03-06T21:18:00.000-05:00

Someone famous said that travel isn't for the faint-hearted... I think. If they didn't, maybe they should have. But travel brings me heroes. Travel brings me joy. Travel reduces my fears because I gain comfort in the fact that the vast majority of the world is made up of people that relish a good meal, good company and a sunny Sunday afternoon where ever it may be.

I traveled to Venice to witness Carnivale, Italian style, and to learn a little more about photography. Life is full of suprises and this trip was no exception.

The props are as elaborate as the costumes and mirrors abound which is particularly fitting.

The costumes are far more elaborate than I ever imagined sometimes taking the original concept, which was to allow the rich a few more freedoms, beyond the need for simple anonymity. While revelers opted for the comic, the outlandish and the macabre, fantasy and elegance were among my favorite themes.

The colors are rich, shocking and in stunning combinations.

I usually love angled shots and choose them for interest -- but in Venice, it was sometimes the only way to get the whole costume in...

I found the medievel characters particularly "in place" in Venice.

Puss in boots?

Sometimes the costumed revelers just got in the way!
In the crowds attracted to Venice for Carnivale, sometimes it was all you could do to see a step in front of you -- sometimes that was enough to capture a flash of color, of beauty.

This isn't a particularly good photograph but it is one of my favorites -- the mask reminds me of wedding cake icing.

A few of the revelers relied on their costumes and let their faces show through... they were my favorites. While it is true that you can't smile just with your mouth -- your eyes have to be in it, too; I think it is also true that without the mouth, the expression falls short. So, my favorites were the costumed revelers sans mask.

More to come over the next few days... well, maybe weeks.

It may be easier to view these photos at:
http://wildeyedcam.smugmug.com/gallery/2535017/1/134221719

Little Havana -- Backyard Travel

2007-01-30T12:59:00.000-05:00

Despite having worked only blocks from the area, I had never ventured onto Calle Ocho, the main street in a section of Miami that is a center of the Cuban-American community in South Florida. Little Havana, like Boston's North End or San Francisco's Chinatown, is a little like leaving the US for a brief tantalizing taste of another culture, another time.

Cindy Karp led a Palm Beach Photographic workshop group through the area as we tried to improve our photographic skills. Cindy's career as a documentary photgrapher covering Latin America provided another level of insight into the area. She sees not only the obvious but understands the historical perspective and the threat urban development poses today.

Our group of about twenty might have made the better photographic subjects as we donned the funny gear we favor (you know -- the stuff that makes us look like we are safari bound even when we are photographing the Empire State Building) but our targets were the colorful sights of Little Havana and its gracious residents.

Tourists aren't unusual in the area but 20 photographers with humongous cameras swinging from their necks brought smiles to the faces of many of the local residents.

I'm not terribly outgoing so asking a total stranger if I can take their picture can be painful. But not here -- People were warm, welcoming and indulgent of our intrusions even posing for us on occasion.

Cindy, who has lived and traveled in Latin America, made it seem easy when she asked a resident, Nora, to pose for us.

Well, not all of the locals were as thrilled with our attentions...

A bit of camping by workshop participants determined to amuse in return!

A true supporter of the local economy...

The Domino Park

Dominos and chess are turned into spectator sports in this tiny, but lively, urban park. Some of the onlookers seem to concentrate with the seriousness of the players -- plotting their own strategy and wincing or shaking their heads when a player makes a wrong move.

A game of chess doesn't seem to draw as many watchers...

A slower game -- it may leave too much time for reflection.

The colors have to be my favorite part of the place...

On windows, on walls, as signs -- bright, delightful and energizing.

But never far -- a place to give thanks, to say a prayer or for quiet reflection.

It was a fitting place to end the tour.

People....

2007-01-07T09:35:00.000-05:00

Good guides are the most important part of any great trip – and we were fortunate throughout. Larry was our tour guide through China. Intelligent, thoughtful and pretty grounded in reality, he is proud of his country, not blindly as he is aware of what still needs to be done, but proud of what has been accomplished to bring China into this century.

Our guide to the Three Gorges Dam Project...

Explaining the impact of the Three Gorges Dam on the Yantze River....

One of the guides on the Three Gorges River side trip with that delightful assuredness of youth...

On to the Terra Cotta Warriors....

The gorgeous Italian maitre d on the VRC...

A few other shots.
Yes...

And Starbucks!!!

Our group spilling out into the Forbidden City...

At the dam project...

Kim and Gerri... they got the award for the most photogenic Mother and Daughter!

Nora and Carol... both with a wicked sense of humor, they kept us in stitches!

Miriam and YT...

Very often, we were the subject of snapshots by the Chinese tourists...

Since my trip, I look at China much differently, so perhaps something in the news will prompt me to add my thoughts but otherwise, this will be my last post in this journal. That is, unless I return someday... maybe in 2008 for the Olympics.

Beautiful Details...

2007-01-02T18:21:00.000-05:00

There is more than the devil in the details...

Everywhere, even on ordinary items, the Chinese display their art.

On doors...

On rooftops...

On walls and arches...

Every birdcage is ornately carved...

Even the garden paths are crafted in meticulous mosaics...

The Forbidden City

2007-01-01T08:17:00.000-05:00

You could spend days exploring this dynastic enclave full of nooks, crannies and amazing detail.

Not a moat -- it is inside the enclave -- but a depository for rain runoff.

The pathway for the Emperors' carriage...

The Room of Delights...

Amazingly, a corner with no tourists...

The sign points the way to the Hall of Mental Cultivation. Chinese wisdom says that the best way to cultivate one's mind is to reduce one's desires.

The gardens were my favorite -- trees with their ages measured in centuries, beautiful rock sculptures and the smell of rich earth that I remember from my Grandmother's garden.

Tiananmen Square

2006-12-30T21:26:00.000-05:00

Square conjures up the southern use of the term – it is the center of town and whether an actual square exists is irrelevant – it is "the square." For the first year after moving to North Carolina, I got hopelessly lost. Turn left at the square, a common directive, would send me looking for a geometric square or something resembling such from which to steer. When I finally asked a co-worker why I couldn’t find this illusive square she backed slowly away from me shaking her head. Over time, I figured out the square can be just an intersection if it is THE main one in town -- I think… it still doesn’t make sense to me.

The Chinese idea of square goes more along with my thinking but Tiananmen Square is a square on a massive scale. Widely spaced government buildings look out over the square and Mao’s Mausoleum, where hundreds of Chinese tourists line up to walk past each day, is prominent.

As I was working on uploading this picture it brought back the walk through the Square – it was COLD and windy and for the first time, I wasn’t sorry to be hurried along.

At some point in our trip we questioned our guide, a Beijing resident, about the Tianamen Square demonstrations and outcome. As a group of American tourists, we knew what the western press had reported --- Larry's version was somewhat different. I don't know that I completely believe him or that I completely disbelieve our press. I do remember the limitations of the reporting of the Liberty City riots in Miami, the Watts riots in LA, 9/11 in New York, Wilma and Katrina.... Well, I listen to reporting about China a little differently now.

What do you think that is?

2006-12-29T08:26:00.000-05:00

I became the official taster for our group since I can’t resist trying something new and there was always something that begged the question, “What do you think is in that?”

Breakfast at the international hotels was a marvel. All buffet style but rather than a single line of food there are artfully designed food areas to cater to the tastes of its visitors. As the travelers are quite varied, so is the food. Kim Chee, omelets of every and any description, bacon, sushi, dim sum, 10,000 year old eggs, kippers, pancakes, French pastries, noodles, fruit, sausages, yogurt, muesli, salad, tea of every color and usually great coffee.

At every hotel, some new wonder would great me – maybe not something I hadn’t seen before but certainly something I hadn’t thought of for breakfast – quail eggs, spring rolls, barbeque pork buns…

Many of our meals were family style served from large lazy susans that in themselves were the source of many a laugh as that last piece of really great shrimp went whizzing past you with the spin of your food rival across the table.

My most memorable meal was a dim sum adventure on the last day in Hong Kong. On our own, the hotel restaurant was recommended to us. I quickly learned that my usual reluctance to trust hotel food was misplaced – rather, I was always pleasantly surprised.

We were there for dim sum, a brunch type meal made up of small servings of a wide variety of delicacies accompanied by truly delicious teas. The very way in which it is served makes it a social event – an order is made up of three or four little tidbits -- perhaps dumplings, buns or meats wrapped in a vegetable leaf -- perfect for sharing. The more people at your table, the greater the variety of what you can order – and finish!

And as we walked into the opulent but understated dining room of rich red lacquer, black accents and gilt trim and were met with the hum of family and friends meeting and enjoying this very social meal. Not a tourist in sight!

The English translation of the menu was such that we still needed a guide which we found in our lovely waitress -- not that she spoke much English but the glint in her eye and enthusiastic smile when she pointed to various items made her favorites clear. We trusted and were not disappointed.

Another delight came at the restaurant in the Terra Cotta Warriors complex watching this fellow make the thinnest vermicelli noodles by slamming dough on the wooden countertop, doubling and stretching it by hand over and over to create thin strands. Once thin enough the noodles were cut and into a huge pot of boiling broth they would go. Minutes later impatient tourists at the front of the long line were rewarded with steaming bowls of rich and flavorful soup.

Regrettably, I never did try the Hairy Crabs. In the markets, they are tied up individually with something that looked like wet straw and are a seasonal delicacy. We kept seeing huge signs outside of restaurants announcing, HAIRY CRABS ARE HERE!

Kitchen conditions were probably somewhat less hygienic than we are used to....

We were offered the Chinese version of "fire water" -- pure alcohol infused with poisonous snake. I passed that up -- unregrettably.

Sometimes we never found out what we were eating. Orange Surprise was dessert one evening and I am sure I would have been surprised if I had ever figured out what it was.

Toward the end of the tour, our guide revealed that he seldom ate the "typical Chinese foods" we were being served. In fact, most Chinese don't but tourists expect Kun Pao Chicken, Peiking Duck and so on so, that is what we get.

Merry Christmas....

2006-12-24T16:56:00.000-05:00

Happy Holidays and may your New Year be filled with happiness.

St. Augustine is magical during the Holiday Season.
Always fun and charming, the Festival of Lights casts a special glow.

The Painter

Alone in a crowd

Always reminds me of Cinderella's coach

It doesn't hurt that it was in the 70's!

And, it is in the 80's today!! I'll be on the beach tomorrow -- Have a terrific day!

Psychedelic Mind Coloring

2006-12-08T22:09:00.000-05:00

Psychedelic thoughts and interpretations on photography, art and life... should be the sub-title for Palm Beach Photographic's class on Photoshop for beginners taught.... no, explored, by Laurence Gartel.
More to come over the next week or so but, for now ...
Visit Art Basel in Miami Beach this weekend -- www.artbasel.com
Visit www.gartelmuseum.com
And.....

I may never do another "normal" photograph! More Later!!

If I were to suggest Chinese Opera....

2006-11-29T19:49:00.000-05:00

...what would you think?

High pitched voices screeching, whining, droning on ----
That was my thought. What drove me to the performance when all I really wanted was a hot bath and a cozy bed was the expectation of vivid colorful costumes and fantastical masks. I slipped my earplugs into my pocket.

The costumes, masks and facepainting didn't disappoint.

Inventive and colorful -- the syncronized movements mesmerize.

The wonderful surprise was the personalities of the performers -- they became the characters with the costumes and masks only enhancing their abilities.

Smoke and light created drama and magic.

Synchronized acrobatics made it seem like they were flying.

There was a little Vegas...

And a lot of elegance with sophisticated music that was truly fun and pleasing to the ear.

Chinese Opera? Loved it!

In Xian, we had been treated to another performance in a dinner theater setting. Entertaining and colorful, as well, it focused somewhat on Chinese culture.

Deep colors and artfully placed lighting created a visual spectacle while listening to a player of an ancient flute instrument. His music sounded like spring with the most delicate of songbirds all around.

Scenes-on-a-stick -- Dragons evoke the image of fanastic kites flying through the air.

If you are in Beijing for the Olympics in 2008, don't miss the Opera!

Chongqing's Pandas

2006-11-28T08:33:00.000-05:00

We left the boat and the Yantze River in Chongqing (which I persist in calling Chung King) a hilly, industrialized city of over 31 million people.

For all its industry, the docks are still a picture of manual labor with steep stone steps leading up the banks which passengers and luggage alike must traverse by foot. “Stick soldiers” carry bags up from and supplies down to the boat over the uneven steps. Passengers must make their way through the throngs of these industrious vendors of personal service offering to carry you or your bags up the treacherous steps. Complicating matters was the condition of many of our group who were stricken by a mysterious illness while onboard the ship. Most were so glad to leave what I termed the “plague ship,” they would have scaled the bank without steps to disembark.

Chongqing's main attraction are pandas although the trip through a city of 31 million was worth the ride. Yes, the streets were crowded with cars but absent were the throngs of people and bicycles I imagined. It turns out that the city is too hilly for bicycles to be practical. The pollution was visible and it is more what I expected a Chinese city to be than the very lovely Shanghai.

The giant pandas are definitely cuddly but their little cousins, the red pandas, really stole the show. All the giant pandas do is eat and sleep. It makes for a pretty picture but, after a while, they are a little boring. The reds however are engaging, lively and, unfortunately, more endangered than their bigger relatives.

The Chongqing Zoo would be a great place to spend a day as they have wonderful exhibits of rare and beautiful birds which I could only glimpse – the bus was leaving!

The Great Wall

2006-11-27T19:13:00.000-05:00

The Great Wall is over 6000 miles long. It is impressive. If I were trying to breach that wall as an invader, I would have serious second thoughts.

It is wide enough for troops and carts to be driven along the top.

High ramparts protect the defenders against enemies.

Over twenty-five feet high in places, its watch towers could send rapid messages about enemy movements across the country.

As astounding as it is, or was, it didn’t work. Determined invaders made it through -- more than once.
On one of my many breaks to catch my breath as I climbed the wall, I wondered at the border fence our government plans to erect. Maybe Bush never made a trip to the Great Wall.

Terra Cotta Wonders

2006-11-12T07:03:00.000-05:00

The terra cotta army was assembled to protect an emperor in the afterlife much like the pharaohs were buried with objects they would need in the next world. There are four vast areas under roof containing broken soldiers and their horses; excavations continue.

The magnitude of this undertaking – both the original and the recovery are unfathomable. Each warrior is unique with facial features and hair individual to the man.

And each was found broken to pieces by ancient raiders who sought the weapons they once held. And so, the archaeologists, who I think must be part scientists, part artists, are puzzling this back together.

This was my absolute favorite tourist stop as the Chinese have created an elegant venue that allows spectacular views of the warriors and the restoration process while providing the protection the site deserves.

At this point in the trip, though, we could have used a little piecing together ourselves.

Yangtze River Dragons

2006-11-10T15:05:00.000-05:00

Myth stems from reality so I have always expected that someday we would learn that a large fire breathing dinosaur co-existed with early man thus leaving us our legacy of dragon myths.
In the world in which we live it is sometimes hard to see what reality was in earlier times. Our perspective on the land and environment is from 30,000 feet, from a speeding car or train, from centuries of knowledge.
From our ship, the gorges were magnificent; dramatically towering above us and into the mists.
Before the rising waters created by the dam, they would have risen 130 meters higher being even more imposing.
The river currents would have roiled and swirled keeping the small boats of the ancient inhabitants close to shore.
The mists swirling beyond the next bend in the river would have resembled smoke.
Winding down the Yangtze in our small ship, looking up at the imposing, spiny cliffs rising out of the mists with curls of dark smoky clouds reaching for us, I see the dragon.

A book on the Yangtze River Cruise portion of my trip would have to include chapters on:
The Engineering Wonder that is the Three Gorges Dam – the magnitude of this project is amazing probably more because of my misconception of China’s level of development than its actual size. There are other dams that rival the size or scope – I just didn’t see them in process which also may contribute to my amazement.

The Controversy that is the Three Gorges Dam – I am a tree hugger; I want to preserve archeological sites. I am predisposed to not like a project that displaces millions of people not just moving them but changing the way they live and their culture. But it is hard to ignore the millions who have died in Yangtze floods over the centuries and how many will be saved when they “tame the dragon.”
As we traveled down the river, we passed signs showing how high the river has risen thus far and how far it will rise when the dam is finally complete.

A few other favorite shots...
We were among throngs of eager Chinese tourists all taking pictures and listening to their guides -- just like we were. This fellow's technique was unique, however.

Shanghai charms me….

2006-11-06T06:41:00.000-05:00

In Shanghai, I forget the traffic jams and human congestion of Hong Kong. It is crowded here for it is a city of over 15 million - – mid-sized by China’s standards -- but there is a sense of order, a sense of neatness, that is absent in Hong Kong. Hong Kong is gritty; Shanghai is my great Aunt’s parlor.

Shanghai morning Hosted on Zooomr

We glimpsed China’s development earlier in the trip but here I begin to understand the power of this country. China is marching forward to renew, rebuild and rejuvenate their cities and they are making it happen with beauty and grace.

Shanghai’s famous Bund, lined with buildings erected by a string of foreign owned businesses in past centuries, was updated to reflect the Chairman’s influence but it retains a stately, colonial air.

What was the “other side of the river” has been redeveloped into an area with touches of European romanticism mixed with space age modernism.

People greet us with obvious pleasure that we are here and with a sense of pride that I do not expect to see. How do I say this? I have allowed myself to be somewhat conditioned to think that everyone not living in a democratic society must be miserable. These people aren’t.

Hosted on Zooomr

It is also in Shanghai that the unfortunate parts of group touring begin to chafe and a Disney-like theme begins to emerge.
There is barely time to see the beautifully reproduced Lu Gardens in the Old City before....

Lu Gardens Hosted on Zooomr

...we are herded out of the gardens into a reproduced market area -- I nicknamed it "The China Pavilion at Epcot" -- for shopping time. Of course I contributed to the economy, but I would have rather stayed in the gardens!

On the other hand, later, we see some of the artisanship that the country is striving to keep alive.

Hosted on Zooomr

We leave Shanghai too soon as there is more I want to see. We're off to begin our Yantze adventure. We should have stayed in Shanghai!!

It isn’t every day I find someone to rub my feet…

2006-11-04T17:38:00.000-05:00

Chicken soup for the sole and an NPR moment

When offered a chance for a foot massage at the Institute of Reflexology in Guilin, almost everyone in our group raises a hand. This venerable institution is the last stop before leaving for Shanghai and I puzzle at how we will all get ministered to and herded back on the bus in the allotted time.

Not to worry -- many budding reflexologists are in Guilin to learn this palliative technique and the Institute has recognized the benefits of group grope facilities to care for the time-pressured “tourist on a tour.”

We are led into a large room filled with rows of overstuffed recliners upholstered in rather unattractive dark green fabric and covered with old fashioned lace antimacassars. In all, the room probably holds 120 – two busloads of tourists and the 60 reflexologists who will use pressure points on our feet to relieve the tensions in our travel-worn bodies.

For a sense of privacy and quiet among all these people, small groups of chairs are set in rows facing each other and every two rows are partitioned off with three-quarter walls. In my little partitioned area, it is just me, nine other massagees and 10 massagers sharing this relaxing experience. I can hear everything in the larger room and I remind myself, again, I am a visitor in a culture where the concept of personal space is foreign.

Since I don't often find someone to endulge me thusly, I want to completely immerse myself in this luxury. To begin, I dip my feet gingerly into the hot herbal foot soak -- a wonderful feeling even if the blackish concoction does smell a bit like chicken soup to me. With 60 pairs of feet in their pungent baths, the room grows damp and steamy and reminiscent of my grandmother’s kitchen. I lean back, close my eyes and try to relax pushing from my mind thoughts of all those toes wriggling around in chicken soup.

A few minutes in the broth and our feet -- skin plumped, bumpley and, I imagine, looking something like chicken feet, -- are patted dry and placed on ottomans in front of our recliners.

My feet are oiled, then squeezed and poked. Joe, my Chinese massuese, starts gently but the probing soon intensifies to the wince level. Intermittently, my feet and calves are slapped, cupped and “chopped” from different angles and with varying force. Each of my toes is pulled – slowly at first, then, quickly.

You may not know that quickly pulling on a toe creates a noise like finger snapping when the toe is released; pull more slowly and there is a popping sound. Striking the bottom of a foot with an open hand makes a different sound than hitting the top of a foot or a calf. A cupped hand against the calf or a foot sounds different than the side of a rigid hand against the same flesh.

An NPR moment …

The voices fade and the damp air is filled with the sounds of 120 hands slapping, cupping, chopping, and palpating the feet and calves of 60 weary tourists. 600 toes are pulled, popped and snapped. The slaps, smacks, thumps, pops, cracks and snaps come at intervals and in rhythms that vary with the technique of each individual masseuse. The partitions muffle some sounds; echo and channel others. Old legs, young legs, flesh with muscle tone, flesh filled out with too many croissants and chocolate bars, boney toes, crooked toes and chubby toes are all played by our band of masseuses creating a veritable symphony of tones. I hear soothing pats of lullabies overlaid by beats of Buddy Rich improvisations pushed aside by energetic taps of Souza marches.

In the midst of this of strangely pleasant and melodious experience, NPR pops into my consciousness and I wish for a tape recorder to capture this tonal poem for the sequence, “Sound Clips.” Often in my travels I have wanted to capture the sounds of the African bush or the ocean during a storm, but even if I had carried a tape recorder to China, I would have never imagined I would want it with me during a foot massage. Who knew?

For all the drawbacks of group touring, this sound delight would not have been possible on my own. The added bonus? How often do you get to use "antimacassar" in a sentence?

As I pass the next busload of tourists waiting to enter as we exit, I want to ask if any of them has brought a tape recorder. But, it will take too long to explain and my bus is leaving.

Guilin and a glimpse of rural life

2006-11-03T05:14:00.000-05:00

When it was time to leave Hong Kong for Guilin, the Li River and the rest of the tour, I was eager.
As much as I liked some parts of HK, it was oppressively hot, crowded and I looked forward to a view of rural life.

Visions of a misty, quiet day trip along the Li River where we would view the dramatic karst limestone landscapes made famous in the almost dreamlike ancient Chinese paintings had been one of the draws of the trip for me.

I began to realize in Guilin that, as always, everything is relative. "Rural" is relative in a country of 1.2 billion people. And our little band of intrepid explorers was not the only group interested in China that day.

Reality struck when we reached the boat landing. Lines of people were being ushered onto the boats that served as two story floating restaurants for the trip down the Li. Each boat is capable of accommodating between 100 and 120 people. We reached our designated vessel by walking across planks which spanned the decks of the lined up boats -- no docks needed!

As we pulled away from the landing area, I was captivated (and dismayed) by the convoy of boats we had joined. Our group of mainly American tourists had become part of a much bigger mass of people -- Americans, Brits, Germans, Italians, and Chinese -- all hoping for the same tranquil experience I sought.

The Li river sees some 3 million plus tourist a year which works out to almost 7000 people per day. I'm pretty sure that we had our full allotment on the river that day.

As we jockeyed for position among the other boats, we learned that speed rules and the sound of your horn is the universal signal of "Out of my way!" Our captain seemed to like speed -- let's just say we weren't overtaken by anyone.

It was Sunday and people from the surrounding urban areas were enjoying the River as well.

I liked their modes of transportation better than our floating kitchens.

Despite the crowded river, the area is beautiful and offered glimpses of a rural existence softened, I'm sure, by the heavy mists of the day.

While tourism is evident at every turn, in some ways life goes on as it has for hundreds of years. The river is still used by some for washing clothes.

Ducks are raised for food and flocks of Peking ducks and the skinnier species preferred by the locals were a common sight.

Cormorant fishing!! (Not fishing for cormorants but using cormorants to fish.) At night, fisherman use lights to attract fish from the depths of the river. The cormorants are kept tethered to narrow, floating docks and catch the fish that are drawn close to the surface. They wear a collar to keep them from swallowing the fish. Alas, no pictures but a wonderful vision in my mind.

Yokes are the body support to transport goods over the uneven and sometimes challenging terrain.

Foliage softens the harsh limestone outcrops and through the heavy mists it is almost possible to imagine what our trip would be like on a slightly clearer day.

The reflections double the beauty of the limestone peaking through.

And, at the end of our voyage, we are met with what is to become a familiar sight -- the vendors that seem to follow us from place to place.
One dollar?

Double click on any of the pictures to enlarge.

Honk Kong --

2006-10-29T09:26:00.000-05:00

A Freudian typo --

Hong Kong is such a big city it is hard to find its wonders among the crowds, the noise and the heat. I liked best the old neighborhood markets, the streets given over to a single purpose, the mosaics, the mixture of old and new and the city at night.

Hanging yellow pages...

Duck to go -- not too different than rotisserie chicken!

The local outdoor neighborhood markets are vibrant and busy. Delightfully void of tourists!

Whole streets are given over to certain types of retailers.

There is a hardware street, a street full of flower shops... One of my favorites was the street of goldfish.

Beautiful mosaic statutes of mythical creatures and buddhas are found in unlikely places.

On weekends, the bird street fair is where people bring their caged birds for an outing...

Hong Kong at night is a bit like being at Disney World...

The lantern festival is an ancient fall festival that continues to be celebrated.

The harbor is turned into a giant laser light show at 8PM each night. Flashing lights from the tops of skyscrapers are set to music with an Asian flavor. Not as sophisticated as the Disney show but amazing all the same.

km

Renmin Square

2006-10-27T21:31:00.000-04:00

Home and Jet Lagged!

My sleep schedule is still upside down and has rendered me somewhat useless. Until functional, here is a preview of one of my favorite places on the trip, Renmin Square, Xian, in the early morning.

Part social, part health driven, part a determined hold on the past, the Chinese turn out in parks and public squares for morning (and evening) exercise in the form of dance, tai chi, badminton, dog walking, calligraphy and a few other forms of movement I am still researching.

Music for dance blends with calmer tones accompanying tai chi; different groups each have their own music sources.

Calligraphy as exercise.

Despite the varied music selections punctuated by barking dogs and the traffic sounds of the beginning rush hour, it is calming and energizing at the same time. Perhaps the morning mists mute the sound. In all, strength giving, I would say.

By the way, it is good to be home.
More later.

Xigera.... Water and light

2006-10-02T07:23:00.000-04:00

Xigera is in the Moremi Game Reserve in the Okavango Delta. It is a water world and the light creates ethereal reflections and striking images everywhere you look.

We explore either in a mokoro or by small motorboat. A Mokoro is a dugout canoe made from the trunk of a single tree. Rather, they used to be -- to preserve the large trees in the Okavango Delta mokoros are now made of fiberglass. They still look like wood but no splinters!

Fishing and transportation are still by mokoro in some areas.

Each of the islands interspersed through the Delta is a breeding ground for the bird, insect and animal populations. Birds abound.

Giraffes are as curious about us as we are about them. The first time I saw lions mating, which is a long and noisy ritual, we were surprised to see an inquisitive giraffe getting fairly close to the lions and peeking over the bushes to see what was going on!

Some islands are completely taken over by birds.

An African darter with a hungry mouth to feed.

Squacco Heron

Yellow-billed Stork

African spoonbill antics...

More territorial dancing this time from whiskered terns.

When these hippos decide they don't like us in their little corner of the delta, we take the hint and leave promptly.

It seems our rapid departure startles a few of the neighbors....

We watch a beautiful sunset take shape...

While photographing the sunset, Tony keeps prompting us to focus on the palms. They don't excite me as I see palms every day at home. I am more fascinated by the reeds.

Finally, I do. He is right.

But, it is time to head back to camp before darkness falls and the creatures of the night emerge!!

If I don't post for a while, it is because I am off on the next adventure. See you soon.

.

The Mystery of the Missing Fleece

2006-09-27T23:11:00.000-04:00

Camps are half the fun of the trip. When the camps are near water, which they usually are, elephant, impala and other wildlife are attracted especially in the dry season. And the camp smells -- beef grilling on the brai or roasting chicken, can attract the hungry.
Living in a tent, no matter how nice, puts me in the mind for adventure and many of the tents are situated so you overlook a river or waterhole. Sort of like Animal Planet being played on your porch 24/7.
In Xijera, coming back to camp by mokoro was an experience in itself as the polers have to maneuverer the crafts under a low foot bridge.

One afternoon, our welcoming committee included this elephant who decided our tent was the perfect place for an afternoon snack. He was oblivious to the fact that after a morning out on the water we really needed the facilities more than we needed the chance to watch another elephant.

Rather than backing off at our presence, he just kept munching closer. We finally decided he was more interested in greens than us and slipped by when he was distracted by a new tree.

"Traditional night" at camp gives a taste of the local foods and glimpses of the traditional music and dance. The boma area at Xijera camp is large enough to allow for a roaring fire and a very dramatic outdoor experience.

The camp staff and locals seem to like being in the spotlight (or firelight) for the evening.

The acappella music is rhythmic, repetitive and strong -- music that would give you courage if you were listening to it by a fire in the bush with only your fellow hunters to face the night with you.

Being escorted back to our tent for the night, we watched a rather large hyena roam near the kitchen tent attracted by the wonderful aromas from the brai. I'm sure he was waiting for everyone to leave the boma area to look for our leavings. Personally, I like hyenas. They clean up. Somebody has to do it!

Always a little foggy after "traditional night" at camp, the next morning was a jumble of getting cameras together and layering on clothes to fight the morning chill. Jill couldn't find her trusty fleece and had to brave the temps until the sun warmed the air. She remembered having it at the boma the night before and it seemed likely that she put it on to return to the tent because it does get cooler once the sun goes down -- but perhaps she had left it.

It was a good bird and elllie day. I became particularly fond of the fellow with what looked like a bullet hole in his ear. It probably isn't as this area of Botswana has been protected for some time but if wandering took him into Namibia or close to a village, you never know.

We returned to camp and still no fleece. Jill turned the camp and the tent upside down and finally decided to break down and buy a new fleece in the little camp gift shop. The camp manager rallied the staff and they decided to have one more go at finding the missing fleece with these facts:

--Fleece last seen, for sure, at the boma.
--Lots of food in the boma at the same time.
--Hyena spotted in camp.

None the worse for wear by the hyena, the fleece was found in the bushes not far from camp. Apparently the hyena may have been scared off from the boma area while investigating the relative edibility of fleece. Rather than leave it, he took it on the off chance it might do for dinner. It didn't, so he abandoned it in the bushes and Jill got her fleece back.

Joburg and beyond...

2006-09-27T10:03:00.000-04:00

The adventures started in the Johannesburg Sun Airport Hotel the night before we left for Botswana.

First, JNB or Johannesburg International Airport, has to be one of my favorite airports simply for the people factor. While you can fly directly to some of the smaller cities in southern Africa, the choice of carriers to those destinations sets the western mind reeling. Would you really want to fly for 10 hours on Namibian Air? Or fly anywhere on Air Zimbabwe? Actually, the safety records for these airlines are quite good and you still get real cutlery during meal service but for reasons I understand, much of the world chooses taking the larger carriers into Johannesburg.

The result is a wonderful mix of people traveling through this airport at any time and the usual cacophony when you mix languages, cultures and bureaucracy. There are a whole array of tourists from Europe and Australia. Africa is a favored vacation destination by much of the world even though most folks from the US are less apt to make the trip but more about that later. You hear German, Dutch, French, Italian and a multitude of languages I can’t identify and see the distinctive mannerisms, hand gestures and antics that we all seem to carry with us from home no matter how hard we try to blend in.

A lot of intra continental travel routes through JNB so you are apt to see Bedouin robes, the clothing of beautiful colorful African fabrics or the dress of the cultures of the immigrants that now call Africa home. And business people; in their suits talking on cell phones they look strangely out of place among the tourists and international travelers. You suspect, as you look at some of the characters, that their business may not exactly pass the scrutiny of the SEC.

Dinner at the Sun hotel is a culinary adventure in itself. Deliciously roasted meats, curries with all the bits like hot chilies in oil, coconut, and cilantro to dress it up according to the varied customs of their patrons, an array of salads and dishes representing both local and international tastes line their buffet. Feta and chilis in oil, calamari and lentil salad, chicken and aubergine…..

Jill and I were finishing dinner and doing a bit of people watching when the gentleman at the next table struck up a conversation with us. Living in Australia and with a number of years doing business in various parts of Africa as experience, he was full of stories and a different perspective on the world.

About this time, the power went out in the hotel. Apparently not terribly unusual, there was nothing to do but have another glass of wine or two.

After hearing more of his stories, Jill, who isn’t as naïve as I, gently, but directly, asked our now dinner companion, “So, would some people refer to you as a mercenary?”

Visions of “if I tell you, I have to kill you” movie scenes flooded my mind as I waited what seemed an eternity for his response which, fortunately, didn’t take long.
He chuckled. I don’t think anyone had ever quite asked that question or maybe just not in that sweet way. We had our answer.

His advice: Travel now because the world is changing faster and in ways we don’t realize.
I'm trying to take his advice!

The next day was a different world.

Nothing beats the airports in the bush –

The Arrivals and Departures Lounge

Baggage handling bush style

Legroom??

But the view is worth it!

After greetings at the camp, we waste no time jumping into the jungle -- well, swamp. Actually, the Okavanga Delta.
A big part of the adventure for me is learning more about different photgraphic techniques. Of course, when I get back I have these dilemmas -- which do I like better? Which do you like better the one above or this one?

So much of the experience has to do with how good your guide is -- our local guide in Xigera was Sam and he was terrific.

Bug screen--

More later!

Africa and the air and spring...

2006-09-25T19:17:00.000-04:00

The air in Africa is different. It is filled with the smells of plants and animals, of the earth and the waters. You can smell the cool of the rivers before you reach them. As you traverse terrain of seeming sameness, the changes in smells and temperature remind you of the diversity behind, in and around each bush.

The wild sage is the scent that I think of first when I think of Africa. I only learned on this trip that in some areas they call it the Zebra Sweat bush. Our guide said it is because it smells like zebra sweat -- but in reality, the plant has such a strong fragrance and is so prevalent that hunting lions roll in it to mask their own odor. Lions also roll in hippo dung when there isn’t any wild sage around. Just thought you’d like to know that.

This year, we traveled later and spring arrived earlier so we experienced some of the vernal sights and smells.

Many of the acacia tree species had begun to bloom adding startling bursts of color and scents to our explorations.

Wooly Caper Bush flowers smell so sweet the natives call it the bubblegum bush.
When I return home after each trip, I have pictures to remind me of the sights but I can only capture the scents in my memory.

Stories go along with each of the trees and bushes as the people of Africa remain close to the land. Some plants are still used medicinally. Certain branches can be peeled back to make a great toothbrush. There’s a tree with leaves so soft that one of the guides winked and called it the toilet paper tree.

Early spring also meant we saw animal behavior we wouldn’t normally see in the winter. The males begin their territorial sparring and although their efforts aren’t in earnest until later in the season, the sound of their horns locking and their bodies hitting each other made me wince.

The giraffe has a particularly awkward sparring ritual: using the boney protrusions that look like horns they alternately whack each other on the rump. Not serious at this stage, the sparring looked more like a civilized slapping match but I was assured that once spring is in full swing, the altercations can be violent enough to draw blood.

Whether location or weather, we felt the bugs a lot more this trip, too.

The ellies work at shaking the palm nuts from the palm trees. The outer layer that the ellies like is just a thin coating on each nut. They eat the whole nut and make sure they "plant" the remainder somewhere along the way assuring a supply for years to come as new trees grow from their efforts. If you look closely at this picture, you can see the nuts falling to the ground.

Back to reality and the scents of south Florida -- car exhaust!

Home from the wilds...

2006-09-21T14:01:00.000-04:00

Arrived home last night and I can't wait to go through the pictures and share the stories that go along with...
For now I will post these few with the rest to follow after I catch up on my sleep, go through the month's worth of mail the postman just delivered and do the laundry!

Can you tell this guy was coming for us?

The African Fish Eagle -- almost as beautiful as our American Bald Eagle.

A hungry lady. She later managed, with a little help from her friends, to score zebra fast food.

Stories to come --

--"Road kill" takes on a new meaning when you are sharing the road with black rhinos.

--When an African says it is a "short walk", the concept of relativity is very important.

--There is a chapter in all of this that has to be titled: "I'll shave my legs in Swaziland"

Later!

Signing in from Paris

2006-08-15T07:26:00.000-04:00

In route to JNB but killing time in CDG ---
There is an old joke about the French and organization or a lack thereof--- well, maybe that is too strong but lets say they are better at other aspects of life. It took me three hours to get from one terminal to my departure terminal and through the check in process.... So, maybe it isn t so bad getting through Hartsfied.
Bon Jour!

Africa 2006 Keeping track

2006-08-10T15:37:00.000-04:00

(This combines the last two posts for the full itinerary.)

Preparing for this trip has been especially fun as I have had time to do some of the research and reading leading up to the trip that I missed on past excursions.

I have gotten to read more about the different areas through which we'll be traveling:
--The Okavanga Delta which is an area not dissimilar to the Everglades but much more extensive and less developed;
--The Drakensburg Mountains, a World Heritage site due, in part, to the rock paintings found throughout the area;
--The St Lucia Wetlands, another World Heritage site due to the importance of the area to the survival of a large number of birds.

Of course, sometimes a little knowledge is a scary thing. While researching the route for the last half of the trip, I found the South African equivalent of the AAA. I expected to read about detours and lane closures due to construction, but the road adviseries contained references to rock slides, sink holes, blasting and problems with animals and people in the roads.

Then looking at the itinerary for the Zambia segment, I found an obscure little footnote I had not noticed before. It said, "Fitness: You should be able to run at least 30 meters fast." WHY????

At the start of every adventure or major challenge I have this feeling that I am invincible and can conquer anything. Sometime after I commit, I always have this moment when I ask myself: "What were you thinking???!!!" I must say that the running 30 meters fast thing has me wondering.

Here is the plan for part of the next six weeks- (Jill gets credit for putting together much of the detail on the first two weeks.)

Monday, August 14th -- Airport to Airport
I start the journey and embark on a ridiculously convoluted route derived to make this trip via first class (because it is grueling in coach) and as cheaply as possible. The good news is that I hope to meet up with friends along the way as I hopscotch from Charlotte to London to Paris to Johannesburg. I will arrive with a day to rest up and take care of some logistical stuff for the second half of the trip. This all presumes that flying is back to normal after today's events!

August 18 -- Sweet Home, Botswana
The fun starts! Jill joins me on the 17th and Friday morning we leave Johannesburg at 10 a.m. on the infamous Air Botswana arriving (with any luck) in Maun, Botswana after a 1 hour 40 minute flight. ( I actually consider this the riskiest part of the trip. AB is likely to decide to change their flight schedule on a whim and not tell anyone).

There we hook up with Tony Reumerman, our guide for the third year running. From Maun we are transported on light aircraft to Xigera Camp (pronounced "keejera") in the Okavango Delta where we spend the next three nights.

Photo of Tony checking to see if there were any animals around that were interested in him.

Xigera is a permanent tented camp (Hilton tents as Kim refers to them because while they are tents, they are also pretty comfortable!) in the Moremi Game Reserve which is in a remote corner of the Delta I have not visited before.

Xigera is on an island of riverine forest with a wooden footbridge connecting to the island next to it. Views can be had of lion, hyena and leopard padding across the bridge as they move between islands. If we miss the show, the camp "newspaper" (a sand pit built into the bridge to capture paw prints) is "read" each morning and provides information on unseen nightly visitors to camp.

Photo from the Robin Pope Safari site

One of the animals I hope to spot here is the sitatunga antelope as the area boasts the highest density of this rare and elusive animal found anywhere in the Okavango Delta. Even the professional guides can count on one hand the number of times they have spotted a sitatunga.

August 21 - 23 -- The Roar of the Lion
From Xigera, we'll be transferred by light aircraft to Duma Tau Camp where we spend the next three nights.

Duma Tau (meaning "roar of the lion") another tented camp in the 125,000 hectare Linyanti Wildlife Reserve, which borders the western boundary of Chobe National Park in northern Botswana. The camp is under a shady grove of mangosteen trees and overlooks a large, hippo-filled lagoon within the Linyanti waterway system. We stayed at a neighboring camp during the first trip to Botswana and it was terrific. The area has large concentrations of elephant along with wild dogs, cheetah and lion.
And there is nothing like being "sung" to sleep by hippos frolicking in the Linyanti River!

August 24 -- Zambia
We leave Tony and Botswana today and head for Mfuwe, Zambia and another new area for me. (While Mfuwe has an international airport, I can't find evidence that it has any people!)

The real destination is the Luangwa National Park where we are staying one night at Nsefu Camp which was the first photographic safari camp in Zambia and dates back to the early fifties. (Kim, this may be more like Motel 6 tents.) Despite its age, the camp sounds unique (aging has that effect on me, too) There is a great view of the river and a terraced area where game grazes during the day. The bar, tucked in beside a huge extinct termite mound, overlooks a waterhole that is very productive for game, especially leopard at night.

August 25 -- Run 30 Meters Fast
Now we get to the "run 30 meters fast" part. Today we walk from Nsefu Camp to a "Fly Camp" where we'll stay the night. Generally, the fly camps are set up about 5 - 6 km from the previous camp and are ever changing. Hence, no amenities like running water, electricity or beds. (Kim, tent tents.)

It is called a Walking Safari. The brochure said nothing about running. In fact, on past trips the guides have always said, don't run. You just look like dinner to a predator if you are running. And fast is relative -- are we talking cheetah fast or hippo fast? One is twice as fast as the other -- but maybe that doesn't matter as both are faster than I.

Assuming I outrun whatever is chasing me, this is a beautiful area. The river is rapidly changing course in this section of the Luangwa Valley and the resulting channels and lagoons host spectacular game.

We do three days of walking (or running as the need arises) which will be very different than my past experiences. In a jeep, the animals are aware of you but not impacted by you. They know what to expect from a jeep. They have become habituated to the presence of the odd jeep coming by - you're almost like a tree -- big, out there, but just part of the scenery. On foot, you are an unknown in a place where everything is either prey or predator.

August 27 - 28 -- Run/Walk to Tena Tena
Tena Tena Camp is in a grove of mahogany trees on a sweeping bend of the Luangwa River and overlooks favorite watering spots for elephants, hippo and antelope. There is a lagoon, Buca Buca, that can be watched from the camp where many animals come to drink. I think after three days of running 30 meters fast, I'll be ready for a little "sit on the deck and veg" time.

August 29 - 30
We leave Tena Tena and the Luangwa National Park to move on to Nkwali Camp for our last two nights in Zambia.

Nkwali Camp is located on private land, overlooking the South Luangwa National Park. It is a beautiful area of Ebony woodland and open grass plains. Elephants often cross the Luangwa River into the area and come to the waterhole near the thatched dining room. The area is also famous for leopard and giraffe sightings.

August 31 -- Back to South Africa
Jill and I make the multi-flight trip back to JNB where Jill heads home and Miriam, providing she hasn't been frightened off by the road advisories, will fly in from London for the next leg of this adventure.

Independent Travels!!

Up until now all of my experiences in Africa have been fabulous – unique, exciting, awe-inspiring and, totally not of my doing. Someone else has taken care of me, arranged for me to have indescribable experiences and seen to my every need. I had care free travel, trackers to suss out the locations of the animals I wanted to see and hot water bottles at my feet on cold nights.

A classmate, Jeff Smith and his lovely and patient wife, Trish, gave me the inspiration to try traveling independently in Africa. They have meandered through the Garden District along the southern coast of South Africa and rave about it. They seem totally comfortable about their ventures and so, have given me the courage to give it a try. Tony's encouragement helped, as well.

I would be remiss if I didn’t say that I would not have had the guts to do this totally on my own – Thank you, Miriam!! If you hadn’t signed on for this jaunt, I’d still be looking through guide books and dreaming.

September 1 – Drive on the left, drive on the left….
We pick up our car first thing and head out of Johannesburg and one of my biggest fears is remembering to drive on the left side of the road! Being a Brit, Miriam ought to be better at it than I am but then there’s part about me not being too good with maps –

Our first destination is in the Royal Natal National Park in the Drakensberg Mountains. We'll stay at Thendele Camp for some hiking to take in the majestic scenery.

September 2 -- The Giant's Castle
The areas of the Drakensberg Mountains have such descriptive names like the Cathedral, Dragon's Back, the Amphitheater. J.R.R. Tolkien is from this area and so my thoughts of what it looks like are infused with the fantasy scapes of the Lord of the Rings.

Tonight we stay at a camp in the Giant’s Castle area and will hike into the caves to see the bushman paintings. I should add, "weather permitting." It is teetering between winter and spring in the Drakensbergs and with the altitude, it may be REALLY cold which we all know is not my favorite condition!

September 3 – Babanango Valley
We will be staying in a bush camp near Babanango which is in the Kwazulu-Natal area of South Africa. There is a rich Zulu heritage and close proximity to the Hluhluwe-Umfolozi (pronounced something like “we she-shweli”, I think.) Reserve. I picked this spot because the people who run the camp also run guided drives into the Reserve which will give us a chance at seeing the wildlife without needing to worry about driving. Also, the family that owns the is gradually buying up land and developing a wild animal reserve which intrigues me.

September 5 -- We’re going to the beach!
Cape Vidal is a camp in the St Lucia Wetlands and we’ll be over the dunes from the Indian Ocean. With luck, we’ll spot humpback whales, avoid the crocs and hippos and soak up a few rays. I am also hoping for the chance to go kayaking here.

September 8 – To Mhlambanyatsi, Swaziland
Actually, we begin to wind our way toward Kruger National Park and decided to take a bit of a jog in the route to go through Swaziland. Surrounded by South Africa, it apparently has a different cultural and approach to modern life -- they still have a king!

September 9 – To the gates of Kruger
After Swaziland we will head for Kruger National Park, the highlight of the trip. We need to be ready to enter the park the morning of the 10th and head for Bateluer Bushveld Camp toward the northern end of the park. The park spans over 200 miles and, because of the animals, the speed limits are very low so getting to our starting point before the camp gates close (again because of the animals!) is a bit of a challenge.

We stay in Kruger until Monday, the 18th, moving to different areas of the park and different camps every couple of days. Through the park there are distinct ecozones each supporting different wildlife. I’m hoping to spot a black rhino – a species I haven’t seen before

and, my favorite in the bush – the wild dogs.

September 18th – Dullstroom
Known for trout fishing and the fact that it supposedly reminds the Brits of Scotland, this town makes a convenient stop off on the way back to Johannesburg.
We’ll also stop at a Raptor Recovery Center run by friends of Tony.

September 19th –
Back to JNB to begin the long trip home which is, again, a hopscotch from airport to airport but with enough time for me to do some sightseeing along the way. I’m home again on the 21st.

I will try to update my blog along the way, if possible. I'll be reliant on internet cafes we happen across -- and I don't expect to find many!! So, if you don't hear from me, no news is good news!!

Credit for the small photos on this post and the last go to people who have posted pictures of their travels to Kruger, the Drakensberg, and Zambia on the site Webshots.com. I can't wait until I have my own to post!

See you soon!

Totem poles and whales for Jacob and Ben

2006-08-02T23:11:00.000-04:00

I am still going through Alaska pictures as the experience still amazes me. Plus, Jacob and Ben both were studying Alaska in Vacation Bible Scholl while I was there so that is added incentive to post photos. I am also looking for the perfect shot from Glacier Bay National Park to enter into a contest but I am running out of time!

Don't you know that this boy's momma used to push him to the surface and say, "Now, blow."

Wonderful colors even on the older totem poles housed in the museums.

.

Tennis, anyone?

2006-07-24T16:10:00.000-04:00

The next generation of tennis super stars saw court action this weekend in a remote Georgia location. It took shrewd detective work and and inside connection to find their location and be on hand to capture these telling photos.

The oldest of the stars shows remarkable maturity and frightening intensity as he attacks the ball.

There is a level of concentration seen in this player that hasn't been witnessed on the sports scene since this lad's Dad wrestled competitively!

He never stops going the extra mile ---

Next in the noble lineage is a fierce and agile competitor who will soon be ready to take on all comers....

The ferocity in his look will give his opponents nightmares!

I predict great things for this fellow --- as soon as he's old enough to get a passport, I'd be worried if I were a Wimbleton player!

And the youngest ---

Concentration and

Remarkable strength

Combined with grace and beauty! (Wonder where she got it from!)

It sure is fun being a grandma! Love you guys and will write soon. Keep watching the blog for pictures and messages.
Love,
Grandma!

On the road again.... with Sandhill Cranes

2006-07-20T11:19:00.000-04:00

I can’t get into a car with a suitcase without the song, “On the road again….” playing through my head. For this I have a co-worker to thank. Years ago, when he and I traveled together quite a bit, every time we would meet at the airport or crank up the rental car, he would sing the opening lines and it has stuck with me ever since.
I’m not sure when it stops – sometime toward the end of the trip when I am heading home. So, thank you, Chris. I guess it could have been worse – you could have hummed the theme to the Poseidon Adventure or Airport….

On my way up 95 just before entering Brevard County, Florida, I spotted two Sandhill Cranes in the median area between the north and southbound lanes. They were beautiful with what looked to be breeding plumage (but I need to check the bird book when I get home). It could be that I have never been so close to a pair. I think they are normally less habituated to humans and traffic which is probably better for their long term safety. With less and less uninhabited area left in Florida, they are running out of room and apparently taking to the median to forage for food. Given the traffic speeds, I’d guess that they won’t survive for very long. What will happen when we have taken all the land? I can't imagine a world without.

I used to think of this photo as a mother protecting and putting a barrier between her baby and human contact. Now I see it as representing the indistinct future of the wild.

So, drive carefully.

Reunion Weekend

2006-07-10T11:30:00.000-04:00

I met a group of people this weekend that I have known for over 40 years. I know them well for we have shared remembrances of a unique high school experience, of taking the less certain path, of successes and failures, of good and bad teachers, of limitless possibilities, of lost friends and heroes, of the uncertainties of youth and the times.

Yet, each time we gather, it is a new group I meet for they have been changed by their experiences, their lives. I am amazed all over again at their wit and wisdom, their accomplishments, the adversity they have overcome. The adventures and challenges they encounter come in many forms -- it is as much an adventure and challenge to build a new company or career as it is to deal with loss or to create a life that is meaningful and healthful despite what it may lack in monetary reward. Each time we meet, they share with me, for which I am grateful, and I learn from them and gain confidence so that I feel I can do anything.

I come away from this weekend having refreshed many sweet memories: Best friends, that final football season, skipping school, the long commute, pooling money to buy gas, THE BOAT RIDE (finally!), Carolyn teaching me to drive, Kate trying to teach me to sing harmony, fruit loops, double dating, the three witches:"double, double, toil and trouble", the 1964 World's Fair, "finding" lumber for the NOVA letters, yellow roses, Parliaments and chocolate, talking and dreaming about the future, madras (it's back!).... I could go on but will rather stop to say:

The weekend was a marvelous gift given by those who organized it and made it happen but also by those who attended and shared freely their memories, experiences and lives.

Thank you, all, for then and for now.

Any day you learn something new is a good day!!

2006-06-27T20:42:00.000-04:00

Today was a good day! I learned that if I double click on the blog pictures, they will enlarge through the magic of the internet. I didn't say I had to learn why things happen to make it a good day -- just learning to make things happen is fine with me!

Harbor seals and orca whales

2006-06-26T19:28:00.000-04:00

This fellow may have been looking for hand outs as I think the gulls got his dinner!

He is a cutey.... those eyes!!

Then, we spotted the orcas... I never could count exactly how many were in this pod. Someone said fourteen but it seemed like more to me. It was a family group --

Even a baby...

More later.

Alaskan Scenery

2006-06-23T22:32:00.000-04:00

First bear sighting.... but the whale was best!

2006-06-22T20:56:00.000-04:00

Our first "wild" sighting was after leaving Sitka --- The three bears!

Long days -- Sunset was at around 11PM -- Dawn at 4:30AM but it never really got dark. This was dawn on our first morning on the ship.

We woke up to magnificent views every day but I remember particularly our first morning. It seemed that at every turn there was a misty cove, narrow channel or passage that would lead to another world.

The first sign of the whale was the exhalation of breath as he surfaced after a long dive.

To dive, his body arches....

And his flukes give an extra push to help him achieve depth....

Home again....

2006-06-21T19:05:00.000-04:00

...With mounds of mail, piles of dirty laundry and more pictures than I think I can get through in this lifetime. Most importantly, terrific memories!! Alaska is breathtaking -- even stopping by a trail for a moment of quiet yields a view I want to keep with me forever. So, as I go through --which I have decided to try to do chronologically -- I will post my favorite pictures here.

We wandered the town of Sitka before boarding the Sea Lion....

At the Raptor Center, where they rehabilitate injured birds, we were fortunate enough to witness the releases of two eagles that had recovered sufficiently to return to the wild. This fellow is hoping to follow them....

At the Cultural Center where they train natives in wood working and other native crafts, I found a quiet spot to rest and soak up the pure beauty of the place.

Even Sitka's serious side is picturesque....

We were all pleased to finally board the Sea Lion as most of us had gotten up at 4am to catch the flight to Sitka.....
Note the absence of clouds -- Southeast Alaska is a rain forest and we expected rain, clouds and cold weather. Were we in for a surprise!

North to Alaska....

2006-06-03T18:45:00.000-04:00

I just checked the weather for Sitka, Alaska, which is where we fly into to board the ship next Saturday. The good news is that the low will only be 50, the bad news is that the high will only be 56. I know, what did I expect -- you can't keep icebergs around if it is 80 degrees!

Sunday is Frederick Sound and Chatham Strait. Here I get confused because the itinerary says killer and humpback whales but also says kayaking. If I am a killer whale, mightn't a kayaker look like an appetizer served up on a skewer?

Monday -- From the small fishing village of Petersburg, flightseeing over LeConte Glacier, weather permitting.

Tuesday -- Inian Pass and Point Adolphus with sea otters and humpback whales as the stars of the day... Apparently, there is a hydrophone on board which they lower into the water when around the whales so you can hear them communicate. I'll let you know what they have to say.
Wednesday-- Glacier Bay National Park. Calving glaciers, sea lions, mountain goats, puffins and bears -- there's a song in there somewhere. I think we stay on board the ship today -- I can't imagine I would want to be kayaking or be in a zodiac when the glacier decides to drop a load.

On Thursday, we will be in the cruising through the islands in southeast Alaska -- hiking and possibly some kayaking, again, weather permitting. The photo ops should be great as the area has a high density of nesting bald eagles.

Friday has us moving through Tracy Arm, a 22 mile long fjord with spectacular waterfalls, and passing the Sawyer Glacier which has been described as "bluer than any blue on earth." Do they realize they are competing against Paul Newman's eyes?

Saturday we end up in Juneau and see the Mendenhall Glacier --

After all that ice, do you think I'll be happy to return to south Florida?

The Lindblad Expeditions website has a Daily Expeditions report where they post pictures and activities from each ship -- so, if you really want to keep track, you can go to the following website and click on the reports from the Sea Lion and see what we have been up to!

http://www.expeditions.com/dersearch/dailyexpeditionreports.asp

No pictures to post today but if you have some can't miss suggestions for Sitka, Juneau or Seattle, let me know!

New camera shots

2006-05-28T13:55:00.000-04:00

A Purple Galinule at Loxahatchee -- not usually such a willing model.

Red Shouldered Hawk s -- the one on the right is the youngster.

Catfish for lunch.... and he ate the whole thing in one swallow!

And, last but not least, a Pied-billed Grebe in his breeding colors. You may not think he's colorful but for the sake of the species, let's hope she does!!

Almost a month and still trying my new wings...

2006-05-27T11:52:00.000-04:00

Officially, it is almost a month since retirement....
The days have seemed to fly (wasn't meant as a pun) by and at times I feel like I have done nothing for the day....
First, I panic, then I remember I don't HAVE to do anything and try to relax.
But, with so many things I want to do, it is hard to relax when the world beckons. My retired friends tell me I'll get used to it and actually learn to relax!

Besides the travel which I have written about, I have spent most of my time planning the next trip(s), researching my next camera upgrade (and purchasing it!) and trying to catch up on correspondence, etc.

Perhaps most fun has been contemplating my upcoming high school reunion. One of the "youngsters" in the office, Joe Blasetti, said he didn't even go to his 10th -- neither did I! Funny how life became so all encompassing at that point in time - building careers, families, lives. I've become more reflective over the years and the past seems to matter more to me.

I found a US News and World Report article from 1965 that was written about my high school, Nova High, which, at the time, was supposed to be on the cutting edge of educational methods. I'm not sure I felt that as an attendee but the article did bring back a flood of memories -- the apprehension of entering high school, sadness about who we were leaving behind in moving on, excitement about the new beginning, anticipation of new friends, new experiences. The memories are very much like the feelings I am having now. Maybe that is why, as I get older and face another era of change, those high school years become more important to me. -- Despite the change, I survived; no, thrived! And I will, again.

So, as the first month of retirement comes to a close, I can give you these answers --
Yes, I love it.
No, I am not bored yet and not ready to go back to work.
No, I haven't adjusted yet -- I'm still a bit disoriented, disorganized and prone to panic. But I'm working on it!

Gators at the gate...

2006-05-19T16:50:00.000-04:00

Yes, I am being careful on my forays into the less populated parts of our area...
Thank you all for your concerns!!

It is a bit disconcerting however, as I have frequently come upon gators sunning themselves on a path or levee and have always just walked past. Albeit, not lingering, but I had never thought about going in the other direction!
I am going to take the advice of a spry old lady that was interviewed on our local TV station after she was attacked by a gator in her back yard which is on a canal. While she had a two inch scar on her ankle, she managed to hang on to all other appendages. Apparently, she started to yell at the gator and hit him on the head with her garden hose scaring him back into the canal. Grandma power!!

Miami drivers rude?

2006-05-17T09:22:00.000-04:00

Of course we're rude! It is a matter of survival!

Southeast Coast

2006-05-16T11:40:00.000-04:00

Huntington Beach State Park in the early morning and a black necked stilt finding breakfast.

I have been wandering about the coast travelling to/from Murrells Inlet with stops along the way to learn a bit more about photography and, because they are great subjects, birds.
For part of the trip I travelled the old A1A along the coast. It still cuts through some sparsely populated areas -- but not many. Moreover, it seemed that in every section of marsh and old woodland, there was a For Sale sign. I can only describe it as fear when I think that these remaining undeveloped areas will be turned into condos and tarmac.

On the Road Again....

2006-05-06T21:44:00.000-04:00

In Surfside Beach, SC, for a few days of R&R... WAIT! That is my life, now. No longer is it R&R, maybe R&R is work?
Rain expected tomorrow but hopefully, some sun for photos.
I have entered my first serious attempt at a photo contest-- above.
It is for the First Coast Birding Organization's 2007 ad campaign with the requirement that the photo needed to be taken in Florida in the last year. Only two entries per person -- I was torn between better photos of more common birds or not as good photos of rarer birds. I'll get to see all the entiries next weekend.

Dylan gone western!

2006-05-05T09:38:00.000-04:00

Dylan in cowboy glitz.

James Rivers>

More JazzFest pics

2006-05-05T09:14:00.000-04:00

Mr. Osborne

And, a member of the group.

More Pics

2006-05-05T08:27:00.000-04:00

The irreverent Dr. John:

With the Jazz Vipers

From JazzFest

2006-05-01T22:05:00.000-04:00

We couldn't have asked for better weather with temperatures in the high 70's and breezes to keep the humidity at bay. The turnout was gratifying -- performers who never before graced the stages of the Fairgrounds filled in the line up of regulars decimated by Katrina's impact -- and the revelers who came not knowing what to expect only that they needed to be there as a way to say, "We want New Orleans back!"
The music was fabulous with songs throughout written or adapted to sing people home to New Orleans after the storm. And if the music doesn't bring them back, the food certainly will-- there were a few items missing from the line up but not enough to keep me from waddling back home after the weekend.
Throughout the city and the festival were reminders of the devastation wrought by Katrina from buildings without roofs, high water marks on buildings and escarpments, debris from renovations underway, spray painted messages left by searchers, boarded up businesses. Felix's is gone -- or, maybe moved as someone later told us but no one seemed to be sure where they moved.
But there were other signs too. Help Wanted signs in the windows of the businesses that have stayed open or have reopened, signs saying "We'll Be Back,""Under construction," "Reopening May 15," scaffolding and piles of new shingles, and signs rendering political comment:

Rebuild and Re-New Orleans
FEMA Evacuation Plan: Run like hell
Make Levees, Not War

Apparently, Mother Nature is showing its own signs of renewal, too -- there is a remarkable abundance of blue crabs and the magnolia trees are in full flower with multitudes of medium sized blooms giving off a scent to attract any insect within range.

The most moving sign -- seen everywhere -- "Welcome Home."

An interview on a the local jazz station summed it up -- Our other cities have lost their character, their originality but New Orleans remains unique in so many ways.
The politicians and the government may be debating whether to rebuild New Orleans, but not the people -- they want their city back and they have started to rebuild in earnest.

The people of New Orleans were grateful for the turn out, grateful for the tourist dollars. When the shopkeepers, waiters and cab drivers said "thank you" at the end of a transaction, they said it as you will have never heard it before.

Go, if you get the chance.

Taking flight...

2006-04-20T21:35:00.000-04:00

Or, a new landing.

If the internet co-operates and I maintain this, you should always know where I am, what I am seeing and a little of what I am thinking.