Okakuejo: The Ultimate A+ Hole (8/17)

Anne, Nancy, and Rick, barely recovered from our trip UP the steep and bumpy 1km driveway to the Grootberg Lodge, were dreading the drive back down, and seriously considered hitching a ride from one of the guides. However, we held our breaths and put our faith in Lieutenant Dan, as he ably ground the gears until we reached the main road for our 5-hour drive to game-rich Etosha Park, arriving at the entrance gate at 3pm, and quickly heading to the first of Anne’s “Top 10 Water Holes” in the Park.

We were NOT disappointed, as we spotted a small group of springbok warily heading off in the sunset as a lion stared at us from the nearby tall grass.

And, at the watering hole, elephants of all ages guzzled and splashed with delight for the three admiring Land Rovers full of visitors.

As the sun

was setting, we made our way to the Okakuejo Lodge, home for the next couple of nights, passing another lioness in the grass, a procession of elephants, and a wildebeest quartet in the bush.

After checking in and dropping our bags off in the room, we headed to the nearby Okakuejo watering hole for our Lion King moment. We witnessed a zebra exodus and reflected on a giraffe haj, before the elephants and rhinos took their turn as the sun quickly set, and we made our way to dinner.

After dinner, the traffic picked up at the watering hole, as elephants pac(aderm)ed the house and chased away the rhinos. Unbeknownst to us, lions stopped by for a drink after midnight, as we caught a few zzzs.

She So Horny (8/16)

NOTE: This posting is dedicated to my dad, Joe Kolsky, without whom Two Live Crew would never have introduced the world to Gangsta’ Rap and Parental Advisory Warnings on CD covers.

Anne and I beat our 5am wakeup knock, and by 6am we met our guide, Masek, and two trackers, Lazarus and Nicholas, for our rhino tracking excursion. After a bumpy one hour slalom drive up and down steep hills, through rocky sagebrush, and across multiple dry river beds flanked by luscious dawn-lit mountains, we dropped off Lazarus, Nicholas, and Captain Dan, who set out on foot to discover fresh rhino tracks, as the less intrepid and more physically challenged travelers waited for word of a sighting and hopefully a more direct route to our target.

After almost an hour of waiting for a call, Masek received word of fresh tracks and we set out on foot in the general direction of the trackers, passing half a kudu (only bones, horns, and legs) with a double odor (having been dead a week since his brief encounter with Bert Lahr’s not-so-cowardly descendant).

Unfortunately, after an hour meandering up, down, and around the rocky terrain, we lost contact with the trackers. Masek left us in the shade of a dry river bed, while he moved to higher ground in search of a signal as Anne rested her weary knee in the shade, Nancy left her binoculars, and Rick massaged his aching hip on an accommodating rock.

Twenty minutes later, Masek returned with good news. Lazarus had found Elizabeth (a pregnant rhino, relocated from Etosha with full benefits), Dan and Nick were on their way to meet him, and we now had a vague sense of where they were located. For the next hour, we advanced towards our goal, with only a few wrong turns along the way, finally detecting a crimson-crested loon in the distance as Cap’n Dan waved at us from a hillside across the valley. Within minutes, we were reunited and they escorted us to a spot on the hill and pointed out a ton of glow and radiance (remember, she was pregnant, an 18-month ordeal) amongst the trees on the neighboring hillside.

For twenty minutes, we marveled and shot (100 photos) at this double-horned beauty, while she munched on leaves and shot us an occasional glare as if threatening to charge.

After a brief debate over whether she was named after the queen or Liz Taylor (my choice based on her shape and the fact that she had multiple mates both in Etosha and Damaraland), we finally bid adieu and began our long trek back, during which we wrenched one knee, rattled a log-embedded monitor lizard, and recovered the lost binoculars.

Two hours later, we finally arrived at the Land Rover and embarked on our hour-long roller coaster ride back to the lodge, for a desperately-needed ice-pack, a well-deserved nap, and warm showers all around.

The Long and Winding Road (8/15)

While Anne and Rick luxuriated in the comfort of their Camp Kipwe cottage, Dan and Nancy took an early morning stroll to check out the birdies. Of course, there was no need to go very far, because scores of love birds (look like parrots, taste like guinea pig) and glossy blue starlings frequented the tree hanging over the dining room. We felt great sympathy with the two lovebirds necking as their embarrassed offspring acted goofy on the same branch.

Sadly, we said our goodbyes to the lovely Camp Kipwe, and asked directions to our next destination, the Grootberg Lodge. The car attendants who so kindly washed our Jeep, looked confused until we pointed at the name in our itinerary, to which they responded, “Oh, you mean Chrutbayerrch,” clearing their throat as they enunciated the c-h as in Chai and Chanukah.

Our drive was uneventful, and, two hours later, we arrived at lower-level entrance to the lodge. Our itinerary suggested we leave the car with the attendant and have the lodge transport us up the hill, but Lieutenant Dan insisted that we take the hill, over spousal protests. The attendant recommended popping into 4WD and 4^th gear, which only took about 10 minutes to figure out. For the next 15 minutes, Anne, Nancy, and Rick closed their eyes and bit their lips as Dan handled the “little engine (and transmission) that should” up the steep hill, and carefully past rocks and a family of baboons (no, not the Jacobson-Kolskys) until we reached the lodge, with its magnificent vista, overlooking a 35km plateau-ringed valley.

We checked in, rested, and then headed out on a late afternoon hike with Hambo, whose name is Damara for “farm,” which triggered an enlightening 20 minute discussion of English names based on professions—Baker, Miller, Banks, Forrester, and Ambulancechaser. Our part-time goat-herder guide enlightened us with information about the flora--thorny Kudu’s bush and therapeutic Mopani trees, whose leaves are used to treat wounds. Dan added the word “coagulation” to Hambo’s limited English vocabulary and even spelled it out in the sand.

We learned about his 70 year-old uncle with 14 wives, including a 14 year-old, and wondered a special place in his heart for Valentine’s Day. As we reached the edge of the river valley, we encountered large herds of

springbok, oryx, and Hartman’s zebra,

whose colors glowed in the setting sun, framed by the surrounding hillsides, before heading back to camp for dinner.

Sidebar: The Not-So-Birdman of Elmwood Ave. (by Josh Engel’s Mom)

“Stop the car; there's a Go-Away Bird! I want to take a picture!"

Did you feel the world stop spinning on its axis for a moment while we were in Etosha?

Not only did Rick recognize a bird, he wanted to photograph it! Up until this moment, if it didn't have four legs or a sunset behind it, no African creature was worth shooting with his impressive lenses.

Though throughout the trip we'd seen many amazing, interesting, odd, beautiful birds, Rick thought it was a waste of time and click of a button to stop to look and admire and identify them.

Okay, maybe for a Lilac-breasted Roller but that pretty little bird was an exception.

However, by the end of our visit to Etosha, Rick would blithely identify a hornbill or Kori's Bustard or-dare we say it-a Southern Pale Chanting Goshawk. He has joined the birding converts; ask to see his photos.

NOT a Mere Twyfel AKA Damara, Damara, We Love Ya’, Damara (8/14)

We woke in darkness, as the lights were out at the Villa Margherita from 6-10 this morning. Nevertheless, the kitchen whipped up a scrumptious hot breakfast to provide energy for the long drive to Twyfelfontain.

We passed a pelican parade and another impressive shipwreck on the beach

as we headed north along the seashore. The drive inland included ostrich, springbok, and a wide variety of LBBs (little brown birds) scattered in long stretches of dry plains, dotted with small villages. At our petrol stop, we were serviced by six immigrants from the exit to the Willis Avenue Bridge in NYC, who were washing our windshields before we had a chance to say, “No thanks.”

The flat barren landscape turned into rocky hillsides as we entered Damaraland, with our lovely lodge, Camp Kipwe, well-camouflaged amongst a heap of red rocks. After checking in, Anne, Nancy, and Rick left to explore the bushmen rock carvings at Twyfelfontain in glow of sunset. Meanwhile Dan, feeling a bit sedentary, embarked on a “128 hours” hike among the rocks and down to the riverside, where we were warned to stay away from the elephants.

We picked up a local guide, Desiree, at the entrance to the rocky hillsides of Twyfelfontain. Between 3,500 and 6,000 years ago, bushmen carved 2,000 petroglyphs and engravings into the rocks. The late afternoon sun brought out the best of the artists’ renderings of ostriches, elephants, giraffes, oryx, and rhinos.

For global warming advocates, images of seals and penguins indicated that the ocean was a lot closer to Twyfelfontain a few millennia ago. A pre-historic Stephen Spielberg apparently created Africa’s first motion picture—an ostrich body, with a neck and head that appeared to move from upright to ground-pecking position.

Rand and McNally’s ancestors also paid a visit here, as large rocks, with images of water holes, were used as early bush maps.

The highlight of the natural collection was “lion man,” a lion with human hands and feet, and a right angle tail, whose tale has something to do with a shaman.

Remarkably, Anne and Nancy were unperturbed by the scurrying of a little Jimmy Cagney (as the dirty desert rat) and Dustin Hoffman (as the dassi rat-so rizzo). And, they were good sports, posing for a photo in the mouth of a snake rock,

before we drove to two other Twyfelfontain spots--Burnt Mountain and the Organ Pipes—both of which sounded a lot better than they looked.

We arrived back at Camp Kipwe just as Dan wandered in from his hike, ogled a colorful gecko very unlikely to sell much insurance,

observed a bird fighting its reflection in a mirror, and glanced at the swarm of cute birdies scattered among the trees, bushes, cacti, and rocks that provide the lovely backdrop for the camp.

Before dinner, we ascended 100 steps behind the main lodge for hors d’oerves, cocktails, and a 360° scenic overlook of the rosy, rocky hillsides surrounding the camp. Fortunately, Dan and Rick saved room for the Alas-Poor-Oryx fillet at dinner. Then, after dinner, Rick requested his camera from the shower, for the closing shot of the day.