A to G here now

In an almost last-ditch attempt to save October, blog-wise, I am shamelessly going to copy the format of a story published recently written by a travel-mate. It's an A-Z of what Brett's currently missing, and I only read as far as C before I got both envious (he's gone to so many places I haven't) (though, also, a bit, vice versa) and inspired to do my own travel alphabet. I stopped reading then (I'll finish it later) to keep from being unduly influenced. Here's the first section:

A: I nearly went with Brett's choice, of airports. He contrasted big and small, and I could compare Dubai's vast distances with, say, dinky Atiu in the Cook Islands. But even more memorable are Airstrips like the one in Zambia, which we had to buzz before landing to scare away a bull elephant. That was exciting - and a very suitable introduction to Royal Zambezi Lodge, which we had to wait patiently to get to until a handful of eles chose to move on from the road they were blocking. I've bounced along quite a few grassy landing strips, and they've always led to fun, and often actual adventure.

B: Bircher muesli, which I first tasted in 1977 on the Indian Pacific train in Australia, at the start of my big OE. It's been a very minor, but personally satisfying thread that's run through all my travels since, turning up on breakfast buffets in hotels and lodges all over the place, a literal taste of familiarity. It's also a suitable symbol for my travel experiences generally because it's always different and, though it's very occasionally, to be brutally honest, not quite as good as I hoped it would have been, I never regret choosing it. 

C: Cameras have been an essential part of my travel equipment from the start. I've never been more than amateur, which has been very obvious on the trips I've shared with professionals but - economics being what they are - newspapers and magazines these days will not/cannot pay for their superior images, so we writers just have to do our best. That meant hauling around a cumbersome body and lenses, making sure batteries were charged each day and memory cards had room, and tedious downloading each night. It was certainly a thrill to get (more by luck than skill) a good shot, and to see it on a magazine cover - but I'm ok with swapping that for the sheer convenience of using my iPhone instead these days (and not having to helplessly watch my Olympus fly out of my bag as it tumbled downhill on Skye, to crash fatally onto some rocks). 

D: Diving - that's proper diving, not including snorkelling, during which some people are able to dive, but not me, purely because of my natural buoyancy (and not vast quantities of subcutaneous fat). No, I mean scuba, which I did on the Great Barrier Reef after a surface-skimming (ha) introduction on the boat trip out there from Cairns. We put on all the proper gear and were escorted down under, super-conscious the whole time of every single breath, but still enjoying the novelty of being so far below the water, watching fish swimming all around us. The other time I did something similar was in Moorea, Tahiti where, instead of strapping into tanks and a mouthpiece, we took turns at wearing an unwieldy-looking diving helmet that actually worked very well. I walked about in slo-mo on the bottom of the lagoon, able to wear my glasses and thus see perfectly all the fish - which included reef sharks and stingrays, plus prettier ones - flitting around me. It was fun.

E: Excitement is, by definition, something exceptional, out of the ordinary. And it’s often a selling-point for holiday destinations and activities - a crazy thrill to get you screaming, and boasting about for ever after. I’ve done my share - the cliff swing, ziplines in the dark, a polar plunge, crawling through caves, skimming over river shallows in jet boats, hot-air ballooning, walking up close to a rhino in the wild… All good fun. But, to be honest, the most reliably exciting thing about being a travel writer is simply checking my emails. Multiple times daily, addicted by the fact that, in amongst all the spam and boring stuff, it’s entirely possible that there will be an unsolicited invitation to an all-expenses-paid trip to somewhere I’d never thought of going, but am instantly eager to visit. Glorious!

F: Flying which most people consider a necessary evil, and is especially unavoidable if you live way down the bottom of the planet (or nearly at the top - there's no actual rule that north has to be up, you know). But I do like the thrill of boarding a plane at the start of a trip, especially if I get to turn left or, even better, take a different airbridge to go upstairs. Even when crammed into economy, though, and even when heading back home, I still love getting into my zone, comfy noise-cancellers on, plugged into the entertainment, with nothing to do but watch TV, eat and sleep for hours and hours. (I have fortunately, it must be said, never had An Event happen during a flight.)

G: Has to be Galapagos, where I've been lucky enough to go twice. Of course it's the birds and animals draped, uncaring, everywhere that make the biggest impression - you literally have to step over iguanas and around seals - and it was a real thrill to see bait balls of fish swooping and dividing beneath me as I snorkelled (the nearest, so far, I've got to my dream of a murmuration of starlings). Sitting in a small boat looking down at the silvery belly of a huge humpback lolling beneath us was amazing, too - but actually my strongest memory of that first trip was of what came soon after that. Back on the ship, I was sharing the excitement of the whale-watch with Brett and a previous editor of the paper that ran Brett's A-Z story, who had been in the boat with me. I blurted out how, when the captain delivered the early morning message about the whale, and the chance to go see it, I leaped out of bed, flung on literally just a fleece and shorts, and headed straight to the Zodiac. The identical look on both their faces when I said that was as hilarious as it was unexpected. Still makes me smile.

I bless the dogs down in Africa

I've just been watching the latest - and I mean the latest: it's only just been shown in the UK - episode of the sainted David Attenborough's new series, Dynasties. This one was about two packs of African Wild Dogs, or painted wolves as he called them, whose territories are in Mana Pools in Zimbabwe.

Regular readers 😃 will remember that a couple of years ago I spent a few days just across the Zambezi River from Mana Pools, at Royal Zambezi Lodge in Zambia. One of the highlights (and there were SO MANY!) was on safari one day our coming across a small pack of these dogs in the national park alongside the lodge's grounds, and watching them devour the impala one of them had killed. Seeing these cute dogs on the screen, with their big round ears and mottled shaggy coats brought it all back - as did hearing the collared doves warbling in the background, and the distinctive squeaks of the dogs. We were so lucky to see the dogs - there are fewer than 7,000 left in the world, sadly. Usual reasons, sigh.

Naturally, the photography in the series is brilliantly done, and it looked just gorgeous, the colours so rich and the sun so golden and mellow in the hazy sky. I was thinking only yesterday about my African trips and what an edgy place Africa is, and how going there is simultaneously exciting and frightening. I was inclining towards thinking - such a wuss - that I was kind of relieved not to be contemplating another trip there in the foreseeable; but now I'm keen to go again. It certainly is a harsh and dangerous place - ask the wildlife, as well as the people - but it's truly a magical, super-special destination, and I'd go again tomorrow if I could.

All hail the travel agent

I hate this woman. Or, rather, I hate the TV ad that this actress appears in so much that I can't grab the remote fast enough to mute her whiny voice. What is even more alienating than that though, is what she's saying, which is dissing travel agents for being lazy, ignorant and incompetent, unable to access flight information that this clever woman can use WebJet to discover instantly.

I think travel agents are wonderful. To be able, as they do, to bring together so much disparate knowledge about places literally all over the world, from nuts and bolts to aspiration/inspiration, tailor it to the client, organise it all into a simple format, and then be there as back-up in case of unpredictable hiccups or even out-and-out disasters - well, that's so very admirable. I've worked with both high-end operations, like World Journeys, World Expeditions and Adventure World, as well as your literal high-street outlet like House of Travel, and have been impressed every time.

This year, for example, it was Marlene at Adventure World who put me in a place and at a time to experience the entire year's most unforgettable moment: standing just metres away from a wild elephant which was straddling the path between the restaurant and the bar at Royal Zambezi lodge in Zambia - a country I'd never even thought of visiting, until she slipped it into my South Africa itinerary.

Travel agents have in the recent past taken me effortlessly to Galapagos, Easter Island, Kakadu, Iguassu Falls, Machu Picchu: the travel so enjoyable because it was so stress-free. I knew I was in the hands of experts, and that everything would go smoothly. And it did.

Compare that with the trips I did this year that were DIY. They were only around NZ and to Tahiti and Hawaii, but the time and effort it took to piece them together, coupled with my perpetual mistrust in the value and workability of the final itinerary really did suck away a lot of the enjoyment of the trips. Instead of being proud of having done it all ourselves, I was suspicious of how much better - and, yes, more cheaply - it all might have been, if done with more inside knowledge and expertise.

So, out of this year's trips - horse-riding the Coromandel Peninsula, self-driving around New Zealand, ditto with exponentially higher stress levels in Louisiana, attending a conference in New Orleans, swanning through South Africa (and Zambia), sunning myself in Tahiti, swimming in Hawaii - it was the ones that were sorted by travel agents that were by far the most satisfying and the most fun. Suck on that, WebJet.

Africa, à la Adventure World

                      With thanks to Adventure World for this tailor-made holiday.

This morning began with another yummy (French toast today) sociable breakfast – conversation topics included rank v platoon firing in battle, and how to do the two-handed finger snap used so effectively yesterday by Mphiwa – and then we said goodbye to the cheerful staff at Fugitives’ Drift. We drove our (freshly-washed) rental car the four hours back to Durban, past traditional villages and gradually bigger towns like Babanango, Melmoth and Ballito, finishing up back at the King Shaka Airport to begin our long journey home.

Most of this trip was organised for us by Adventure World: partly as a prize I won, and partly as a demonstration of what they do, for me to write about. What do they do? Well, as much or as little as you want, right up to "Everything, please". They have a wide range of group tours that they run throughout the year to many countries all around the world. Or you can go bespoke, as we did. Having decided it was Africa we wanted to go to, we made an appointment with their African specialist at their office in Auckland (you can also work with them through a travel agent), and had a chat about the sort of things we wanted to do and see. It was pretty vague: Cape Town, glamping, a train, and wildlife, especially plenty of elephants, all to be fitted into about a couple of weeks. We could, of course, have been much more specific.

We were emailed gradually more definite itineraries for our feedback, and when it was all finalised, we went in again to pick up the hard copy with its booklet of vouchers, and to ask any last questions. Everything had been organised: flights, accommodation, activities, transfers, and we even had some help putting together our personal travel at the end. And then we were away.

It all worked beautifully, almost. There was one hiccup with a missing transfer, which was handled very efficiently by the company Adventure World was working with in South Africa, with prompt action and reassurance from Marlene back in New Zealand. All the rest of the flights, pick-ups, hotels and so on went perfectly, which is very reassuring in a place like Africa: it's a bit of an edgy destination and not somewhere I’m brave enough now to tackle completely on my own. I certainly noticed a big increase in nervousness when we were finding our own way around, driving ourselves and feeling much more vulnerable.

And the places we went! Hotels that weren’t just fancy, but full of personality; private city tours; the fabulous other world of the Rovos Rail experience; the foray into Zambia to fly in our own little plane to Royal Zambezi Lodge for truly unforgettable wildlife encounters including a surfeit of elephants… it was all brilliant. And so, so easy. Don’t believe those stupid TV ads that sneer at travel agents and tell you to do it all yourself much more efficiently, and cheaply, on the internet. I’ve done that too, recently, and it’s been a nightmare, honestly. Do yourself a favour and leave it to the professionals, like Adventure World: you’ll be glad you did.

PS: All this, and responsible tourism too!

A spectacular end - and a spectacular beginning

With thanks to Adventure World for this tailor-made holiday.

Through the gauze of the mosquito nets draped over the bed, I watched the sun rise over the river on our last morning at the Royal Zambezi Lodge, curtains moving gently in the breeze, birds hopping over the thatched roof, doves murmuring, hippos grunting from the water. A couple of fishing canoes headed upriver, sending ripples through the sun's reflection on the water. When they'd gone, I had my shower outside on the deck in plenty of solar-heated hot water, with a distant audience of hippos. It was a lovely way to begin the day, even if it was a bit of a sad one. It's been such fun here.

The sun was so red today because there are a lot of bush fires burning - each night on our game drives we've watched a line of fire slowly moving along the escarpment - and the air is full of smoke, as well as dust. Both are especially bad because of the extra-dry conditions, though they're pretty much a constant feature in Africa, and when we finally met up again with pilot Rajith (there were, we were now unsurprised to find, elephants in the road holding us up and even a big bull wandering across the airstrip) he complained of poor visibility.

Even so, I could see the lodge and its reserve, the nearby National Park where we had so much fun bumping along through the bush spotting the wildlife, the tributary we crossed each day where we'd seen elephants, baboons, antelopes and herons in and by the water, and of course the great Zambezi itself.

Then we flew back to Joburg, and on to Durban, and hired a car to drive into the city. This was the end of our Adventure World-sponsored part of the trip, but they arranged one last treat for us: a night at the Oyster Box Hotel, the third South African Red Carnation property, and the most theatrical. Our introduction began with white-uniformed doormen in turban and pith helmet, continued with marble, orchids, curving staircase, mirrors and chandeliers, and ended with a shuttered room where robes were laid out on the comfortable bed and we fell asleep to the sound of breaking waves.

So many spots!

With thanks to Adventure World for this tailor-made holiday.

Game drives are so yesterday! Today I tried different ways to experience the African bush. Up (again) at 5am – yes, it’s a holiday, but no, at game reserve lodges no-one sleeps in, that’s what afternoons are for – I went out with super-guide Chris for a nature walk. It sounds very tame, but please note that we were accompanied by Maybin, a camou-clad guard armed with a rifle, and there were serious instructions about keeping safe in case of a confrontation.

The big animals were not our focus this morning and, apart from being trumpeted at by a stroppy elephant we drove past, we saw none on our walk, fortunately – Maybin’s instruction is to shoot to kill if an aggressive animal approaches within 5 metres (which seems pretty close to me). The closest encounter we had, as it happens, was with an antlion which, despite the name, is the small larvae of a kind of fly. Having done a lifetime’s preparation for Africa courtesy of David Attenborough, I was able to score points with Chris for being able to identify the antlion, the hippo skull we came across and the calcium-white hyaena droppings – but I still learned a lot too.

Elephant dung infusions as a cure for asthma, for example, doves using ant-sprayed formic acid to rid themselves of fleas, leopards at risk of attack by baboons during the day, but vice versa at night… Chris knows so much, and is keen to share. So it wasn’t an eventful outing, but it was fascinating.

Once back at the lodge, though, things got exciting. Wandering along from our suite towards the main building for lunch, we had to take a side entrance because there was an elephant and her calf in the way. The resort is unfenced, and this sort of thing is not unusual. Today the eles took their time poking about right outside the building – at one stage it looked possible they might enter – feeding on grass and leaves. The mother even stepped very delicately over the railings to stand on the path, the better to reach seedpods in the tree over it. This was a bitter inconvenience: she was blocking the way to the bar where we’d planned to have a beer. Tch!

But a waiter went the long way round to fetch the drinks for us, and we settled down to our lunch on the deck as the elephants began to move off. Then, a shout and a clatter of breaking crockery: we rushed to see, and it was an unsuspecting waiter, bringing a tray of desserts from the kitchen, being surprised by the eles at close quarters and not unnaturally taking fright. The real tragedy was the waste of the pudding portions – it was quite the best lemon meringue pie I’ve ever tasted.

Returning to my table, I was advised that an opportunistic vervet monkey had just laid hands on my meatball, and that I should start again with a fresh plate. Talk about novelty hazards. Though, of course, here it’s just par for the course.

After all that drama, we had a quiet afternoon of what's officially known here as DNA time - Doing Nothing at All - although, with a herd of elephants grazing in front of and sometimes literally right below our suite and pool, it was far from dull.

Later, we tried something a bit different: a canoe trip along the river. Being Royal Zambezi, that turned out to be a lot less effort than it sounded. After a quick buzz down the river in a motorboat, we transferred to the Canadian canoes to sit in padded comfort while Chris paddled us gently downstream. We passed crocodiles sunning themselves on the bank, mouths agape; hippos in and out of the water; elephant families coming down to drink and bathe; monkeys and baboons leaping about in and under the trees; a suspicious buffalo staring at us; five skittish zebra; lots of beautiful brightly-coloured birds; and yesterday’s two lions again, lying in the grass studying the baby elephants with deep interest. Add to that peaceful quiet, lapping water, birdsong… glorious.

And then, believe it or not, it got even better. We left the canoe and got into the LandCruiser that met us, and Chris took us bumping and swaying along rough tracks through the bush to find something special for our last game drive here. Elephants got in the way of the best spots for our sundowner, but thanks to having to drive on – and, of course, Chris’s tracking skills and the sharp eyes of spotter Jimmy – we suddenly found ourselves just a few metres from a magnificent leopard lying beside a log in all his spotted glory.

Of course I had the wrong lens on my camera, the wrong settings dialled and my hands covered in mosquito repellent – but I saw him perfectly as he rose and unhurriedly crossed in front of us to disappear into the bushes, and I did grab an ok photo for proof. And after him there were genets and civet cats, a final dinner on the lantern-lit deck by the fire-pit with frogs and hippos providing the soundtrack, and chocolate mousse for dessert. What a great day.

Dogs: 7 - Cats: 2

With thanks to Adventure World for this tailor-made holiday.

That was today’s score and it was a marvel. On our morning game drive with Chris, I said I would love to see the endangered and iconic African wild dog, an animal with impressive social skills and one I'd never encountered before – so that's what he delivered to us, just like that. At first there were only a few, loping along, looking for prey; but leaving them and working on information from other rangers and tracks in the dust, Chris found us something quite unusual. It was a lone female, lying panting in the shade of a bush, recovering from the exertion of having just chased down and killed, solo, an impala, which lay on the dried mud. Wild dogs hunt together, so it was quite an achievement for this one to have succeeded alone. She rewarded herself with a snack on impala guts before loping off to fetch the others back for their share.

They came running, and as we watched from the LandCruiser from a few metres’ distance, they dispatched the impala in only six minutes. Pretty impressive work for just seven dogs. There was eager whimpering but no fighting as they ate, and when all the soft bits were gone they each dragged bones into the shade to lie down and crunch on. Then they trotted busily off again, back to the den where 13 pups awaited with their baby-sitter for their (regurgitated) shares of the meal.

Witnessing all that was a triumph, and near impossible to top – but Chris did manage to find us two lions that evening. One of them had recently swum across the Zambezi from Zimbabwe on the other shore, two kilometres away, to settle in the reserve – amazing, especially considering the river’s full of crocodiles. They were magnificent, regal animals, and when they looked us full in the eyes from about seven metres away, we felt very insignificant.

On the way back in the dark, after our gin and tonics drunk as the big, red African sun dropped down below the escarpment, we almost became the meat in an elephant sandwich. Eles rule wherever they go, and humans tiptoe around them. So when they’re standing in the middle of the road browsing on a tree in front of you, what you do is sit in your vehicle and wait patiently for them to move on, fervently hoping that the crashing in the bush you can hear isn’t another one about to emerge on the road behind you and take exception to your being in the way.

The night finished with a surprise: the promised porcupine site we were expecting turned out to be a bush dinner for all the guests: we saw lights and fire, and were presented with deck chairs around a fire, a bar, a long table all set and lit by lanterns, and a 3-course dinner waiting. Well done, Royal Zambezi – that was a delightful surprise, delicious, and entertaining. What an excellent day!