Walk of the Damned (posting from the road)

One of my goals in Africa was to experience a safari every way possible...vehicle, boat, balloon and walking. I wanted a chance to see the animals from every vantage point. Leila and I decided that Lake Mburo was the best spot on our itinerary to try the walking safari - no elephants in the park...the biggest killer of idiot tourists on walking safaris (I have read that estimates are as high as 1 tourist a month in East Africa is trampled to death).

So, as usual, we set out early in the am to try and catch some of the local wildlife before the retired to shady areas. A small group of us gathered with a local ranger for a safety briefing...that is where the questions started. I don't think I have told you all yet of John. John is a resident of Australia (Sydeny specifically and I am told by other Aussie's that this is an important point to stress) who appears to spend much of his retired life travelling around the world and taking detailed notes. To say John is a character is an understatment. There were many heavy debates amoung my travel mates as to whether or not he was a pre-op transvetsite. He is in his late 60's but dies his hair flaming red and has actually had several problems at border crossings because his passport photo DEFINATELY is that of a female complete with eye liner and lipstick. But aside from some obvious gender confusion issues, he has other odd habits. He journals EVERYTHING from the km we travel in a day, our maximum elevation and the exact time we ate lunch. In order to obtain this needed information he asks questions...and then some.

So it is of no surprise that as we traipsed through the Savannah grasses of Lake Mburo National Park and wildlife that may have been present scatter rapidly when their ears caught rumblings of "what will the maximum temperature be today?", "how many park rangers work in this park?" and my personal favourite "how close is the nearest elephant?". I had already awoken feeling a little queasy and this was certainly not helping matters.

Despite the obvious realization that we were never going to see any of the elusive animals with John conducting an inquisition, we plodded on as the sun began to rise bathing us all in a searing heat. Sometime zebra and impalas would wander close by and look at us as if to say "would you please shut him the f#*$% up. He is destroying the peacful nature of our National Park" before they turned tail and departed. We all gazed at them with envy. It was a very successful safari if our goal was to see skulls and foilage - basically anything that couldn't scamper away.

Almost halfway into our walk my previous queasiness turned to full blown stomach rumbling and I came to the realization that last night's chicken dish was desperatly trying to escape from my body. I stood there admiring the sunrise while mentally trying to convince my digestive system to hold it together a little longer when the problem almost solved itself. The element of surpirse caused me to ALMOST soil my remaining pair of clean pants when two large warthogs came thundering out of some shrubs just a few feet from me.

Content that I had not suffered and accident, I continued to try and will my body into submission. I know that some of you are thinking - why not just use the bush. Bush toilets are not a new concept for me but they are an ABSOLUTE last resort. (Only once did I utilize the side of the road/bush toilet and it ended badly. It seems that I chose to squat down next to a thorny acaia tree. I imagine you know where I am going with this...I was so tangled up; arms, legs, pants and shirt that I had to humilatingly call Leila over to extricate me from the tree. I suffered lacerations to my hands and arms. Hence my fluid restricted vacation). So clearly I would have to just use mind over matter.

And still we walked...admiring the various acacia trees and skulls that the park had to offer. I saw the skeletal remains of more animals then I saw actual live ones. Then the piece de resistance...the perfect thing to stumble upon if you are trying to keep last nights dinner contained within...the carcass of a dead buffalo. Like most things we had encountered on this walk of the damned, this buffalo was indeed dead. I successfully double clutched my dinner back as I examined the shell of a massive Cape Buffalo that appeared to have gotten caught in some mud before being ravished by hyenas and vultures.

We stood quietly there that morning...enjoying the silence of the plains, the beauty of the sunrise and the mortality of the buffalo..."If a rhino and a hippo had a fight - who would win?" Too bad there wasn't any mud for John to get stuck in.