The serene waterways lined with papyrus, lily pads, reeds and other grasses fill the massive Okavango Delta, the largest inland river delta in the world. Here the rains running down from the highlands of Angola, deposited in the Okavango River, flow down into the vast Botswanan plain, forming a 16,000 sq km delta as the river spreads out into thousands of channels and lagoons before eventually drying up as the wetlands meet the harsh conditions of the edge of the Kalahari desert. Making our way from Chobe National Park, we drove through the relatively quiet, wide open roads of the region, lined with patches of yellow grass under the intermittent shade of the short trees of the area. In addition to the intermittent road blocks for preventing the spread of foot and mouth disease, we also passed a long stretch of fencing that goes on for thousands of kilometers to help confine animals to one sector and prevent the spread of disease which would do considerable damage to their agricultural industry, though it has been known to keep animals from reaching far-off water sources and food supplies in years of shortage, so it might not be the most environmentally friendly idea. Eventually we made it to Maun, the principal city in the delta region where we, along with other travellers, did a bit of last minute shopping and gathering of supplies for our few days in the delta. The city itself is just another dry Botswanan town without all that much character, though it serves its purpose.
We spent an uneventful night in another dusty, popular campsite, getting our tents ready and dinner prepared just as the sun went down. Rising mostly with the sun (and going to sleep quite early), we were adjusting to the sun's timetable, trying to take advantage of the time we had and also trying to avoid driving in the dark, as wandering wild animals and a proclivity for drunk-driving make driving at night inadviseable in pretty much the entire region of Southern Africa. On the road ahead, we did, in fact, encounter a few massive elephants crossing the paved road, bringing our truck to a quick stop as we let them pass. The long, flat road was much of the same with the typical dry, scrubby vegetation and few villages or signs of life along the way. Finding a shady spot for lunch big enough for more than one or two people isn't always easy in a place like this, though our experienced driver seemed to know each and every tree, picking a nice large, umbrella-like acacia providing a bit of shade (and some thorns) under which we could set up our quick lunch and get back on the road.
A little while later we made it to Etsha 13 (pronounced Etsa), the area that would keep us occupied for the next few days. The town, along with its other namesakes from Etsha 1 to Etsha 13, is just a small village of different ethnic groups living near the banks of the permanent piece of the Okavango River, before it completely widens out into seasonal lagoons and floodwaters. A few of the Etsha villages are home to Angolan refugees, sometimes constituting no more than large tent camp settlements, while some of the others feature the typical huts of the region, usually round with large bricks or concrete and thatched tops, mixed in with a few more nondescript concrete squares serving as houses or shops. From Etsha 13, we were going a bit deeper into the delta, though we had to pack up a few basic supplies for a few days and leave the rest of our things and the truck behind. Under the watchful eyes of curious children who temporarily ceased their games and football match, we were met by the owner of our next lodge where we boarded a very old 4 x 4 truck/bus with some bench seats and open windows. Taking a look into the driver's compartment didn't instill much confidence, with the metal, stripped down, rusted interior looking like something you'd find in a junk yard, complete with springs sticking up through the bench seat. After loading up our packs, tents, sleeping bags and food, we headed off into the heart of the delta, trudging through a thick sandy plain with patches of standing water and a few streams in our path. Given the season flooding of the entire area, a good number of trees were growing here in the sandy ground as compared to the areas just outside the delta region, and we began to see a bit more birdlife, in addition to a few locals walking down the two dirt tracks formed by the wide tires, sometimes wading through the water with supplies or bundles of grass balanced high on their heads.
About 45 minutes later, after bouncing around and dodging the vicious thorns of a few acacia trees making it just slightly too narrow a path for our new truck to pass through unscathed, we got to our camp in the afternoon, setting up our tents and then heading over to the reception and lounge area to marvel at the views. The fabulous lodge had a massive open-air dining room, leading out to a large, two-tiered wooden deck with a few chairs providing the idyllic spot to look out over the glassy-flat, wide lagoon just meters away, all sheltered by a few massive overhanging trees, every once in a while filled with a couple of loud, playful monkeys, one of which seemed to have a sort of smoker's cough. Staring out over the dark water, we saw a few fish jump out of the lagoon, though our evening was mostly spend just gazing across the long stretch to the reeds at the far end, a kilometer or two away, cut apart by a few channels running off into the waters of the delta. In the night, hippos grunted, birds and geckos chirped, and most of our group was enchanted by the serene setting, not wanting to leave the tranquility of the deck. Eventually we went to bed, and I was now sharing a tent with Simon, the British architect and one of the younger members of our group, as we were trying to cut down on supplies, since for this night and the next two, we'd have to bring everything in and out. Luckily we got along quite well, so this wasn't a problem, though the spacious tents all of a sudden did seem a little smaller with another person inside.
Even with the perfect feel of the place, things weren't as great as they seemed. We woke up and found out that one or two of the French tourists staying near us had their tents slashed during the night, with the thieves stealing a backpack with passports and camera gear. Of course this news surprised us and shook us up a bit, particularly since the remoteness and serenity of the place made it feel like nothing could happen. Fortunately it wasn't one of our group, but it's always a bad thing to hear about something like that happening at all, especially when it could have just as easily been one of us.
(A few wild elephants crossing over the main road in Northern Botswana on the way to Maun. Fortunately Will was paying attention, as these guys would probably really mess up your car.)
(Our group at a lunch stop. With the truck and group of 15 of us (12 plus 3 crew), we each had chores, and we became pretty fast at setting up and putting down our equipment for meals. Lunches were mostly leftovers and sandwiches, with everyone relying on me to finish off any extra food in the end, which was fine with me.)
(These guys were hanging out at our lunch stop, one of the few trees providing shade in the hot, dry Botswanan land.)
(Our driver, William, knows the roads quite well and made sure to stop at this broad acacia tree, since there were very few other spots with shade during the whole drive.)
(After Maun, we moved on to Etsha 13, a town on the edge of the Okavango Delta, transferring to this big 4 x 4 for the last 45 minute drive through sandy plains and small flooded parts to get to Guma Lagoon.)
(The view from the deck at Guma Lagoon was incredible. We all gazed in awe for a while that evening, taking in the serenity and listening to the animals late into the evening.)
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