I would love to say that it was a pleasant trip, but if I did it would be a lie. The problem was and still is, that I cannot sleep on airplanes. I drug myself, wear comfortable clothes, listen to soothing music...nothing works. It's miserable at times, but all in the name of adventure.

(This is where the reserve Venetia is situated, in the lower half of the circle, just below the confluence of the Shashee and Limpopo rivers.)

Finally, after a 10 hour flight from Portland to Amsterdam, an 8 hour layover, an hour flight to London with a 3 hour layover, followed by an 11 hour flight to Johannesburg I had arrived. But only to wait another two hours to meet up with 7 perfect strangers with whom I'd bounce along in a van for another 7 hours to base camp. It's safe to say I was delirious; 54 hours without so much as a nap and I began to hallucinate, literally. At one point I was holding my camera in the van when we hit a bump. I jumped maniacally to right my camera that I now believed was a glass of red wine. At that point all I could do was laugh.


When we reached base camp in Venetia, we were all too excited to remember the fatigue that was bogging us down. The staff had prepared a meal for us and we ate with vigor. Chris, the camp manager then sat us down with paperwork, the kind you sign when you know it may end badly but you won't blame anyone if it does. He then began a sobering talk about the perils of the South African Bush. I couldn't help but notice the simple two-thread barbed wire fence that surrounded our humble camp. We were told as we glanced around at one another that the fencing would do nothing to deter lions, leopards, baboons or elephants. We were informed that lions do come into camp as do leopards on occasion. We were also told that a troop of baboons comes calling from time to time, and elephants like to rip out the water pipes. Chris then advised us to take care in looking under our beds at night as he had to remove a 2-meter snouted cobra (otherwise knowns as an Egyptian cobra) only the week before. We were also to check our bedding nightly for a small yellow spider with large black fangs called a sac spider. Apparently this spider searches out cotton and linens for its' hunting grounds and delivers a bite similar to the brown recluse in that its' venom rots your flesh. Awesome. Show me to my tent!

We were then, in two groups of four, shown to our tents; semi-permanent structures with cement foundations and walls of both canvas and mopane sticks. It became clear that anything that flies, crawls, or slithers would have little to no difficulty seeing itself in. Upon entrance into our particular tent, we met one such inhabitant. As we each lumbered our bags in, a seemingly floppy flying rat proceeded to make his rounds around and above our heads. We ducked and screetched and laughed as we realized that our pursuer was a bat. Luck be a lady, the damn thing flew right under the bed that I had just set my bags on. I shined my head torch under the bed and there he was, hanging like a happy little furry ornament, settled in for the night. Great, I could hardly give up the bed now. Better just get used to it. There's a saying in Africa, most likely drummed up by a seasoned visitor or native and if you've seen Blood Diamonds, you've heard it: This is Africa or TIA. Seeing how my sleepless flight led me to watching Blood Diamonds en route, I had this saying fresh in my mind and played it over and over as I nervously set up my mosquito net, all the while aware of the nestled fluffy bat just under my mattress.

After the usual preparations of brushing teeth, changing into PJs etc, I was ready to crawl in my bed. By the way, I lost count of the spiders that called our bathroom home (again, This is Africa) I climbed in my mozzy net and tucked it in tightly all around me. It was actually really cozy and secure. After writing in my journal for a time I shut off my head torch and lay there wondering how long it had been since I had actually slept last. I closed my eyes and tried like hell to drift off but the sounds of the bush are deafening when you're not used to them. All night long choruses of insects, bats, monkeys, black-backed jackals, hyenas, and sometimes lions go bump in the night, stirring one constantly to the surface and making sound sleep nearly impossible. That is, until you get used to it. On night number one, I was certainly not accustomed to the bush concerto. I lay there with my eyes wide opened, listening in disbelief to the noise. I didn't yet know what half of the noises came from so I wasn't sure how to depict which ones might eat me. Luckily, none of them did. Eventually, through the sheer need for rest after nearly 60 sleepless hours, my body began to give in and I drifted off. Finally sleep...for a few minutes that is. I then awoke to what felt like a mini power washer, streaming my eyes something wet. Instinct told me to shut my eyes as tight as I could manage and I began to search the files in my mind for what on earth could have done that. The only thing that I could think of was a spitting cobra. Spitting cobras are prevalent in northern South Africa and they're deadly accurate. I told myself to stay calm and not panic, and for God's sake, keep my eyes shut tight! I thought hard about what to do and finally settled on waking up my tent mates. "Is anyone awake?!" I said in a shaky, weird voice. Kay, a sweet and humorous woman from London answered me with a sleepy, "Yes". "What spits in Africa?" I inquired. "It's probably just the bat." She said. I breathed the deepest sigh of relief and told her that the bat just peed on my face. We both started to laugh as I climbed out of my mozzy net, slipped on my flip flops and made my way to the sink to wash my face. I couldn't stop laughing, maybe from the relief, maybe because it's just hilarous, and most definitely because I was probably more tired than I've ever been in my life. TIA.

I figured you'd want to see him one more time. Little beast.

On April 5th of this year, almost exactly six weeks after my return from Patagonia, I found myself at the airport, again preparing for long flights and the unknown. I had never touched a toe on the soils of Africa so my mind was reeling with wonder. In my experience, the very best way to experience travel is to drop any and all expectations. That includes all the b.s. that you hear about and see in the media. The unfortunate thing about media is that it's in the business of selling news and fear is a best-seller, something I always try to keep in mind especially during travel. That's not to say that one should not take heed of warnings and precautions, but I believe an open mind is the necessary antidote to the atrocities we witness on CNN.
Africa: Many probably think of it as being a land of destitute; full of starving children with boated bellies and parents dying of AIDS. Others think of it as being a wilderness, full of hungry predators that will gladly eat you on your way out to have a look at the sunset. Some probably picture violence, no doubt stemming from images of seven year olds carrying M-16s as tribal wars flared in Rwanda and other sections of Equatorial Africa. Some picture Jane Goodall, others see Nelson Mandela. My point is, you could let any or all of these perceptions change the way you experience a place. Africa is a place of destitute, but it is also a land of change and promise. As I sat down and made my little nest in 12A, I shut my eyes and began to open the doors and windows of my mind. And as our ship took flight, I finally opened my heart to whatever lay ahead in the great continent known as the Motherland, the place where it's said that all life on Earth began.

I get a sneaking feeling in my bones before big change comes about. I feel it in a sixth sense, in the vein of ambivalence or disconnect. The night before I left for Africa, I suddenly felt as if I didn't care about going. I didn't feel excited and instead almost felt as though I didn't want to go at all; a sure sign that something was about to change. I knew even that night; I sensed it, well before I boarded the flight, that Africa would have my heart.

Returning home from Patagonia was a bit surreal. It was difficult to wrap my head around what I had just experienced during the past six weeks, combined with the loss of a loved one at home, and rounded out with the preparation needed for another six-week departure. I really wanted time to just absorb the magic of Patagonia and how fortunate I felt for getting to be there, experiencing the life of a nomadic researcher. I had plenty of good intentions on getting this blog started, but of course as it were, life had other plans for me. Instead I spent as much time with my family and friends as I could, I managed to secure a great apartment in Queen Anne, Seattle with one of my best friends, and I definitely ate! I didn't mention in my Patagonia post that food was merely a fuel source to keep our bodies going for the frequent 10-hour a days with 60+ pounds on our backs. To say the diet lacked in tasty composition is putting it mildly. We cooked with MSR stoves which yielded daily meals of boiled vegetebles (mostly onions, carrots and cucumber things called zapatitos) and either pasta or rice. Sounds okay but trust me, it wears on the taste buds and appetite! I'll include a picture of our newly honed MSR cooking skills to give you an idea.
So, many visits and a few pounds heavier, I began to feel like I was home again. With the help of my family (thank you!) I was able to get all moved in to our new place and get settled before leaving again. One of my best friends also gave me the greatest honor in asking me to be maid of honor in her wedding, so planning became a priority too. We were able to go get her wedding dress, veil, and my bridesmaid dress picked out too which was an amazing feat in one day.
As the next departure neared, I slowly packed and prepared for a place I've only dreamed of one day seeing, smelling, hearing and experiencing; Africa. Just the word itself invites notions of a world full of dark mystery and primitive survival. I was more than exited, I was bewildered at the opportunity. I'd be living in the middle of nowhere in an unforgiving land where animals outnumber people in dizzying proportions. It was exactly what I was looking for and as far as I could tell, I was ready.