The return of wanderlust

As lockdown begins really to bite and we get increasingly restless and fed up of our own four walls and the same route between home and the supermarket, here are two short travel pieces, one written in response to the prompt ‘Tripod’ and the other to ‘Nonsense’ (it’s strange where your brain takes you with just one, simple word!)

The Tripod piece is actually a mash up of two places, both in Namibia, which is one of my favourite countries. The actual telescope of the story was set up in the then Sossusvlei Karos Lodge which I visited in 1998 – in fact we were there when news of Princess Diana’s death came through – but the place I also had in my mind’s eye when writing this is a lodge in the Kalahari where I spent new year’s eve 2017 going into 2018 and where the below photo was taken.

The second piece is also a mash up of a lot of different bush experiences I’ve had, although I have NEVER taken the plunge…

As Far as the Eye can See…

The telescope was permanently installed on the boundary of the camp. The hard, dusty ground was pitted from the legs of its tripod as each day, it was shifted a little to the left, a little to the right, to be trained on its day or night-time quarry.

Its lens captured a myriad of sights, despite the desolation of the lodge’s location.

In the early mornings and evenings, meerkat burrows teemed with families scurrying back and forth, but were quiet under the noon day sun.

From time to time, small herds of zebra ambled across the horizon, shimmering in the searing heat of the desert. Less frequently, a single oryx would move slowly into view, stopping every so often to look around at a landscape that never altered.

Sometimes a dust cloud approaching from far in the distance alerted staff to arriving guests, but such was the vista and for so far could you see, that there was ample time to ready the room before they arrived, hot and thirsty from the drive.

And for an hour or more after bills were settled and goodbyes had been said, a similar trail of gritty sand followed behind the retreating cars of departing visitors.

At night, the sky was a canopy of blinking stars, and the telescope would track Venus or Jupiter, Mars or Mercury or just gaze upon the moon. The telescope had to be recalibrated frequently to follow the shifting planets.

The vast desert and sky were full of life.

Taking the Plunge…

It had been an action-packed holiday and I had been pushed to my limits.

We had spent days walking in the African bush with only the protection of a youthful looking game ranger, who looked as nervous as I felt. He kept his rifle cocked at all times, ready.

We slept under the stars, the silhouettes of visiting hyenas flickering in the campfire light on the walls of our flimsy tents.

We were mock charged by an angry elephant, who flapped his ears frantically warning us off. We didn’t need to be asked twice, and we retreated cautiously, never turning our backs.

We ate antelope steaks, impala and kudu. It made me sad after we had seen so many of these elegant and skittish creatures grazing peacefully on the open plains.  

We travelled along the complex waterways of the Delta by mokoro, hunkered down deep in the traditional dugouts, vigilant for hippos whose aggression is legendary.

But now I was facing my biggest challenge yet.

‘I can’t. Please don’t make me. I’m too scared.’

‘Nonsense, you’re going to love it.’

I dithered on the edge, hobbled like a cow at the ankles, trussed like a turkey in the harness.

The waters of the mighty Zambezi swirled over enormous rocks far below and the speck of a rubber dinghy bobbed up and down, waiting.

The operator was encouraging but firm and I felt a gentle nudge in the small of my back. My stomach flipped. I heard the primal scream, ‘Bungee!’