August 22 - 23, 2010
Floating along the flat labyrinth of waterways, gliding silently among the towering papyrus stalks and large lily pads aboard our makoro (traditional dugout canoes), we were now in the midst of the Okavango Delta, experiencing the area as it has existed for hundreds of years now. Our morning began with a quick breakfast before boarding a motorboat to take us 30-45 minutes across the large lagoon and up some larger channels before dropping us off, along with our belongings that we'd need for the next day and a half, at a small, heavily wooded dirt island that was simply called Makoro Island. Here we met our guides for the next day, a group of Botswanan and Angolan locals from the Etsha villages who work on a rotation basis to guide tourists through the never-ending channels of the massive delta. Passing under long branches of overhanging trees, in and out of the shadows and hazy, filtered light passing through the canopy, the effect was mystical. Each group of two boarded one of the long, narrow makoros, basically a slender canoe not much wider than an average person's girth, long enough to fit two people sitting on the floor front to back and leave just a bit of room for the driver/poler in the back. The original canoes were simple dugouts carved from local trees such as the sausage tree (named for the shape of its fruit), but these days it's quicker, lighter and more environmentally friendly to use plastic imitation canoes (plastic ones last longer and are easier to replace), so our group had a mix of plastic and wooden ones, made more comfortable with the addition of two tiny plastic chairs that are basically just elementary school chairs with the legs removed and placed on the floor of the canoes. Again, Simon and I were paired up, and we had the good fortune of being the last to push off, meaning that Allen, the leader, would be our guide.
Spreading out in a single file line consisting of our six canoes plus a few carrying our supplies, the makoros (mekoro is actually the correct plural) slinked along, just above the water's surface. In these narrow and shallow waters, the boats are propelled along by the polers with a long wooden pole used to push off the muddy bottom, sort of similar to the gondolas of Italy, without the cheesy songs and striped shirts. We passed in and out of more lagoons, following small openings in the grasses carved out by hippo tracks, chomping and barging their way through the vegetation. At times, the water was no more than a few inches about the surface, feeling bumps of mud or sand slide underneath our canoes, other times opening up to spots about 6 or 7 feet deep. The beautiful delta varied from tall stalks of grass and vegetation islands providing shade for us along the water to open channels under the hot sun. We made one quick stop to stretch our legs, let the polers relax and use the bathroom/trees about an hour into the trip, landing on a medium sized island with a few termite mounds providing vantage points, though there wasn't much more to see there, as we were well within the delta and far away from any sign of other civilization or even other people.
Not long after our stop, we came again to a larger island, our home for the afternoon and evening. During the ride, our friendly guide had told Simon and me how many of the permanent islands in the delta begin as simple termite mounds poking above the water, then collecting dirt and sediment slowly and growing in size until becoming proper islands. He also told us all about the abundant birdlife that we saw along the way. More interesting than that, he gave us some insight into his local traditions and customs, telling us about how his people have made hippo traps with pendulums designed to impale the hippos with a log laced with poison from plants and animals found in the area, among other stories. Having grown up in the area, he had a vast knowledge of the wildlife and layout of the area. We mentioned that everything looked the same and it would seem to be hard to tell one channel from another, and he replied that he felt the same way when he visited the big city, not knowing one street from the next.
As we came aground at the island, we walked up a small dirt embankment to a flat sandy area shaded by a few large trees, so we set up our tents for the afternoon and then went off wandering around the island, though we were warned to stay in the open areas, as there is wildlife around, and you don't want to sneak up on any hippos, elephants or even jaguars and an occasional lion (though moreso later in the dry season). Moving around the island that is somewhere around 300 meters wide and 800 meters long, we passed by dry bushes, sausage trees and a few massive baobabs dominating the horizon. Surrounding us on each side were more beds of green reeds, poking up out of the water for as far as the eye could see, dotted with a few more similar looking islands. In the late afternoon, we all went back out on the makoros for a quick stop in a swimming hole which was just a deeper clearing where the guides scouted the area and guaranteed that there were no hippos or crocodiles around, and the water was even fairly clear here, with little vegetation to obscure the views of the bottom. After frolicking in the cool water, we went back to another island for a nature walk, immediately spotting a large elephant making its way slowly across the island towards us, so we stepped back out of the way, particularly those of us with brightly colored shirts that may attract unwanted attention. We then made our way around a bit of the island, learning about the local history and flora and fauna, all told by our great guide, Allen, who had actually grown up on that exact island whose name was something to the effect of ! A-ha. (You have to make a clicking sound similar to one as if you're trying to get a cat or dog to come to you at the start of the word.) His people had lived there until the government declared the whole area as a protected reserve, moving his village back to the mainland at Etsha 13 and only allowing tourists and photographers back in the area for a few days at a time. We also were shown a hollowed out baobab tree where the chief once lived and stored his belongings in the massive trunk, though there were now no remnants of his time there. Being such a small, isolated island with about 50 people once living there, we couldn't imagine what life must have been like, though I did understand how he had acquired this vast, firsthand knowledge of the entire area and its contents. Passing back to the camp, the night was filled with noises, reminding us that we were in the middle of the wilderness, harmonizing together a combination of hippo grunts, geckos, shrills from jackals and even a few growls from a leopard.
The next morning, we returned to Allen's island for another nature walk, passing through our water hole just before looking back and seeing a large elephant wading across the channel behind us to get back to another island. Later, we packed up our tents and gear and boarded the makoros for the final time, making the two hour ride back to Makoro Island. Again, the hot sun shone down on us, though a few of us opted for umbrellas for protection from the sun, almost drifting away into a restful nap, lulled to sleep by the blissful sounds of nature all around us. We then transferred back to the beautiful camp along Guma lagoon for another relaxing night peering out from the serene deck. On top of the fabulous location, we had the full moon lighting up the night, finishing off the evening in style. Coming into the trip, I had read stories about the beauty and tranquility of the Okavango Delta, but my few days in and around the water far exceeded my expectations. The sublime scenery and wonderful calm of gliding through the undisturbed channels of the papyrus choked water was truly a memorable experience.
Unfortunately, our drive back from the lagoon to Etsha 13 was a little less peaceful. The owner of the lodge was driving us back in the large 4 x 4 truck, though he had badly sliced open his left hand that morning, so he was on his way to see a friend in town who was a veterinarian and would be able to stitch him up, so his left arm was mostly held limp against his body as he steered us along, our driver, William, sitting in the middle seat and shifting gears for him. Bouncing along, clipping the branches of overhanging trees and passing over a few bodies of standing water, things seemed fine under our guide, Jo, heard a strange sound coming from the back of the truck. As we looked out the side of the truck, we saw the back tire was going flat, so we had to stop on the sandy ground and try to put on the spare, which happened to be buried in the back compartment, under all of our supplies. A few minutes were spent unloading all of our gear onto the sand before finally getting the tire. Underneath the large truck, William and another worker from the lodge tried to dig out the tire with their hands, propping up a few pieces of wood from which we'd be able to precariously jack up the truck, hoping it wouldn't slip off in the soft ground. Once up, William, the other guy and I all lifted the heavy, massive tire off, maneuevering around and finally getting the cumbersome replacement back on, covering our arms and legs in sand and some dirt, all the while digging away at piles of sand that kept falling in around the tire. Cranking on a pole used as a makeshift lever to tighten the bolts, we were nearly finished when someone realized that the tire had actually been put on backwards in our haste to get the behemoth wheel into place, so we had to again remove it, spin it around and redo all of the bolts, no easy task under the hot sun of the day. Eventually we got things back into place and found that we were only about 10 minutes from the village where we had stopped. We said goodbye and were happy to get back into the comfort and stability of our own truck, getting back on the road and making our way out of Botswana, heading up to the Caprivi Strip of Namibia.
(Boarding our small makoro, this is the traditional way to get around the Okavango Delta. The poler in the back propels you through the shallow water by pushing off from the muddy bottom below.)
(Passing by slowly, I even had time to catch a bee on one of the water lilies that fill the waterways.)
(There are also huge areas of papyrus and reed grass. The boats usually track through the opening created by the hippo paths, clearing out the vegetation for us to get through. Thanks guys.)
(The Okavango Delta is the largest inland delta in the world, meaning that the huge river simply spreads out and flows into the dry desert, being absorbed by the soil and evaporating away, though this area of the delta is permanently filled with water from the Angolan highlands.)
(Cruising along in the quiet, beautiful lagoons is a zen-like experience and puts more than a few people to sleep. It took us about two hours on the makoro to reach our intended island.)
(Our deserted island was just a small place surrounded by marshland and covered with dry brush and a few massive baobab trees. We were warned not to explore too far into the bush, and we actually heard hippos and a leopard during the evening, just a short distance away from our campsite.)
(That's me and the tree that's probably over 500 years old, judging by the size, as it grows wider and wider. I still have a few years to catch up.)
(Heading out for a nature walk on another island, we stopped for a swim in a clear part of the lagoon where the polers could guarantee that there were no hippos or crocs in the water, though the next day, we had an elephant pass just behind us at this very spot as we floated away.)
(After finding a few elephants on the neighboring island, we followed the sounds of hippos to find this angry guy just around the corner. Unlike most hippos that just grunt and huff a little, this one came up out of the water, swinging its head from side to side and opening its mouth as wide as possible to scare us away. None of us had ever seen a hippo do so much of a display, and Bruce even managed to catch it on video, so this is a still shot from that.)
(Another amazing still shot from Bruce's video. Check out how wide the hippo's mouth is. This was an incredible moment, especially viewed from the water level in our tiny canoes. Fortunately, we were far enough away that we were relatively safe.)
(Leaving the wonderful island and evening in the wild, we headed back the next day, and Simon and I noticed this elephant crossing just behind our row of makoro canoes, making its way back to a nearby island.)
(More of the wonderful scenery that made our time in the delta so amazing.)
(Cruising back in to Makoro Island after two hours on the water, followed by a quick trip on the speed boat back to Guma Lagoon. This little island had a few small inlets with overhanging branches and moss, creating a mystical feel.)
(More of the magic island. Perhaps we should have looked for pots of gold or something like that.)
(Heading back into camp, our driver from the lodge was already injured and in need of stitches, so Will was shifting gears for him. Then, minutes from the village, we got a flat tire, so a few of us had to help change the massive tire, jacking up the old truck in the sand (not easy), and even putting the tire on backwards before getting it right and moving on our way. Not a fun task in the hot sun and sand.)
(The village of Etsha 13, home to some of the polers from our trip. As you can see, many of the traditional houses are small, round thatched huts or concrete blocks with thatched roofs.)
Floating along the flat labyrinth of waterways, gliding silently among the towering papyrus stalks and large lily pads aboard our makoro (traditional dugout canoes), we were now in the midst of the Okavango Delta, experiencing the area as it has existed for hundreds of years now. Our morning began with a quick breakfast before boarding a motorboat to take us 30-45 minutes across the large lagoon and up some larger channels before dropping us off, along with our belongings that we'd need for the next day and a half, at a small, heavily wooded dirt island that was simply called Makoro Island. Here we met our guides for the next day, a group of Botswanan and Angolan locals from the Etsha villages who work on a rotation basis to guide tourists through the never-ending channels of the massive delta. Passing under long branches of overhanging trees, in and out of the shadows and hazy, filtered light passing through the canopy, the effect was mystical. Each group of two boarded one of the long, narrow makoros, basically a slender canoe not much wider than an average person's girth, long enough to fit two people sitting on the floor front to back and leave just a bit of room for the driver/poler in the back. The original canoes were simple dugouts carved from local trees such as the sausage tree (named for the shape of its fruit), but these days it's quicker, lighter and more environmentally friendly to use plastic imitation canoes (plastic ones last longer and are easier to replace), so our group had a mix of plastic and wooden ones, made more comfortable with the addition of two tiny plastic chairs that are basically just elementary school chairs with the legs removed and placed on the floor of the canoes. Again, Simon and I were paired up, and we had the good fortune of being the last to push off, meaning that Allen, the leader, would be our guide.
Spreading out in a single file line consisting of our six canoes plus a few carrying our supplies, the makoros (mekoro is actually the correct plural) slinked along, just above the water's surface. In these narrow and shallow waters, the boats are propelled along by the polers with a long wooden pole used to push off the muddy bottom, sort of similar to the gondolas of Italy, without the cheesy songs and striped shirts. We passed in and out of more lagoons, following small openings in the grasses carved out by hippo tracks, chomping and barging their way through the vegetation. At times, the water was no more than a few inches about the surface, feeling bumps of mud or sand slide underneath our canoes, other times opening up to spots about 6 or 7 feet deep. The beautiful delta varied from tall stalks of grass and vegetation islands providing shade for us along the water to open channels under the hot sun. We made one quick stop to stretch our legs, let the polers relax and use the bathroom/trees about an hour into the trip, landing on a medium sized island with a few termite mounds providing vantage points, though there wasn't much more to see there, as we were well within the delta and far away from any sign of other civilization or even other people.
Not long after our stop, we came again to a larger island, our home for the afternoon and evening. During the ride, our friendly guide had told Simon and me how many of the permanent islands in the delta begin as simple termite mounds poking above the water, then collecting dirt and sediment slowly and growing in size until becoming proper islands. He also told us all about the abundant birdlife that we saw along the way. More interesting than that, he gave us some insight into his local traditions and customs, telling us about how his people have made hippo traps with pendulums designed to impale the hippos with a log laced with poison from plants and animals found in the area, among other stories. Having grown up in the area, he had a vast knowledge of the wildlife and layout of the area. We mentioned that everything looked the same and it would seem to be hard to tell one channel from another, and he replied that he felt the same way when he visited the big city, not knowing one street from the next.
As we came aground at the island, we walked up a small dirt embankment to a flat sandy area shaded by a few large trees, so we set up our tents for the afternoon and then went off wandering around the island, though we were warned to stay in the open areas, as there is wildlife around, and you don't want to sneak up on any hippos, elephants or even jaguars and an occasional lion (though moreso later in the dry season). Moving around the island that is somewhere around 300 meters wide and 800 meters long, we passed by dry bushes, sausage trees and a few massive baobabs dominating the horizon. Surrounding us on each side were more beds of green reeds, poking up out of the water for as far as the eye could see, dotted with a few more similar looking islands. In the late afternoon, we all went back out on the makoros for a quick stop in a swimming hole which was just a deeper clearing where the guides scouted the area and guaranteed that there were no hippos or crocodiles around, and the water was even fairly clear here, with little vegetation to obscure the views of the bottom. After frolicking in the cool water, we went back to another island for a nature walk, immediately spotting a large elephant making its way slowly across the island towards us, so we stepped back out of the way, particularly those of us with brightly colored shirts that may attract unwanted attention. We then made our way around a bit of the island, learning about the local history and flora and fauna, all told by our great guide, Allen, who had actually grown up on that exact island whose name was something to the effect of ! A-ha. (You have to make a clicking sound similar to one as if you're trying to get a cat or dog to come to you at the start of the word.) His people had lived there until the government declared the whole area as a protected reserve, moving his village back to the mainland at Etsha 13 and only allowing tourists and photographers back in the area for a few days at a time. We also were shown a hollowed out baobab tree where the chief once lived and stored his belongings in the massive trunk, though there were now no remnants of his time there. Being such a small, isolated island with about 50 people once living there, we couldn't imagine what life must have been like, though I did understand how he had acquired this vast, firsthand knowledge of the entire area and its contents. Passing back to the camp, the night was filled with noises, reminding us that we were in the middle of the wilderness, harmonizing together a combination of hippo grunts, geckos, shrills from jackals and even a few growls from a leopard.
The next morning, we returned to Allen's island for another nature walk, passing through our water hole just before looking back and seeing a large elephant wading across the channel behind us to get back to another island. Later, we packed up our tents and gear and boarded the makoros for the final time, making the two hour ride back to Makoro Island. Again, the hot sun shone down on us, though a few of us opted for umbrellas for protection from the sun, almost drifting away into a restful nap, lulled to sleep by the blissful sounds of nature all around us. We then transferred back to the beautiful camp along Guma lagoon for another relaxing night peering out from the serene deck. On top of the fabulous location, we had the full moon lighting up the night, finishing off the evening in style. Coming into the trip, I had read stories about the beauty and tranquility of the Okavango Delta, but my few days in and around the water far exceeded my expectations. The sublime scenery and wonderful calm of gliding through the undisturbed channels of the papyrus choked water was truly a memorable experience.
Unfortunately, our drive back from the lagoon to Etsha 13 was a little less peaceful. The owner of the lodge was driving us back in the large 4 x 4 truck, though he had badly sliced open his left hand that morning, so he was on his way to see a friend in town who was a veterinarian and would be able to stitch him up, so his left arm was mostly held limp against his body as he steered us along, our driver, William, sitting in the middle seat and shifting gears for him. Bouncing along, clipping the branches of overhanging trees and passing over a few bodies of standing water, things seemed fine under our guide, Jo, heard a strange sound coming from the back of the truck. As we looked out the side of the truck, we saw the back tire was going flat, so we had to stop on the sandy ground and try to put on the spare, which happened to be buried in the back compartment, under all of our supplies. A few minutes were spent unloading all of our gear onto the sand before finally getting the tire. Underneath the large truck, William and another worker from the lodge tried to dig out the tire with their hands, propping up a few pieces of wood from which we'd be able to precariously jack up the truck, hoping it wouldn't slip off in the soft ground. Once up, William, the other guy and I all lifted the heavy, massive tire off, maneuevering around and finally getting the cumbersome replacement back on, covering our arms and legs in sand and some dirt, all the while digging away at piles of sand that kept falling in around the tire. Cranking on a pole used as a makeshift lever to tighten the bolts, we were nearly finished when someone realized that the tire had actually been put on backwards in our haste to get the behemoth wheel into place, so we had to again remove it, spin it around and redo all of the bolts, no easy task under the hot sun of the day. Eventually we got things back into place and found that we were only about 10 minutes from the village where we had stopped. We said goodbye and were happy to get back into the comfort and stability of our own truck, getting back on the road and making our way out of Botswana, heading up to the Caprivi Strip of Namibia.
(Boarding our small makoro, this is the traditional way to get around the Okavango Delta. The poler in the back propels you through the shallow water by pushing off from the muddy bottom below.)
(Passing by slowly, I even had time to catch a bee on one of the water lilies that fill the waterways.)
(There are also huge areas of papyrus and reed grass. The boats usually track through the opening created by the hippo paths, clearing out the vegetation for us to get through. Thanks guys.)
(The Okavango Delta is the largest inland delta in the world, meaning that the huge river simply spreads out and flows into the dry desert, being absorbed by the soil and evaporating away, though this area of the delta is permanently filled with water from the Angolan highlands.)
(Cruising along in the quiet, beautiful lagoons is a zen-like experience and puts more than a few people to sleep. It took us about two hours on the makoro to reach our intended island.)
(Our deserted island was just a small place surrounded by marshland and covered with dry brush and a few massive baobab trees. We were warned not to explore too far into the bush, and we actually heard hippos and a leopard during the evening, just a short distance away from our campsite.)
(That's me and the tree that's probably over 500 years old, judging by the size, as it grows wider and wider. I still have a few years to catch up.)
(Heading out for a nature walk on another island, we stopped for a swim in a clear part of the lagoon where the polers could guarantee that there were no hippos or crocs in the water, though the next day, we had an elephant pass just behind us at this very spot as we floated away.)
(After finding a few elephants on the neighboring island, we followed the sounds of hippos to find this angry guy just around the corner. Unlike most hippos that just grunt and huff a little, this one came up out of the water, swinging its head from side to side and opening its mouth as wide as possible to scare us away. None of us had ever seen a hippo do so much of a display, and Bruce even managed to catch it on video, so this is a still shot from that.)
(Another amazing still shot from Bruce's video. Check out how wide the hippo's mouth is. This was an incredible moment, especially viewed from the water level in our tiny canoes. Fortunately, we were far enough away that we were relatively safe.)
(Leaving the wonderful island and evening in the wild, we headed back the next day, and Simon and I noticed this elephant crossing just behind our row of makoro canoes, making its way back to a nearby island.)
(More of the wonderful scenery that made our time in the delta so amazing.)
(Cruising back in to Makoro Island after two hours on the water, followed by a quick trip on the speed boat back to Guma Lagoon. This little island had a few small inlets with overhanging branches and moss, creating a mystical feel.)
(More of the magic island. Perhaps we should have looked for pots of gold or something like that.)
(Heading back into camp, our driver from the lodge was already injured and in need of stitches, so Will was shifting gears for him. Then, minutes from the village, we got a flat tire, so a few of us had to help change the massive tire, jacking up the old truck in the sand (not easy), and even putting the tire on backwards before getting it right and moving on our way. Not a fun task in the hot sun and sand.)
(The village of Etsha 13, home to some of the polers from our trip. As you can see, many of the traditional houses are small, round thatched huts or concrete blocks with thatched roofs.)(The amazing hippo video, courtesy of Bruce. This was shot from our tiny canoes as one of the hippos decided to let us know that we were a little too close. Check out the sweet slow-motion at the second half of the clip.)
