in the press
Wall Street Journal
Into Canoeing? Try It On An AfricanRiver Safari
by Sophy Roberts
FIRST CAME THE BITE of the African dawn in winter nipping at my fingers. Then came the wet of the morning dew as we slipped through a narrow alley in the reed beds that cover much of the floodplains in Botswana’s Okavango Delta. As orange light spilled into the riverscape, the air hummed with insects, their million tiny wings backlit by the rising sun. They looked like flakes of snow.
These details I can recall, although my priority at that moment was the search for hippopotamus backs glinting pewter in the sun. Every day on this five-night journey in June—paddling in a flotilla of two-person canoes on an 83-mile river safari—we saw hippos wallowing in the oxbows of water formed by the Okavango’s annual flood. We listened for their honks and burps, and watched nervously for the wave of water that indicated a hippo had submerged and was possibly moving toward us.
We learned these skills from our guide, Josh Iremonger. He also taught us paddle-slapping, which sounds like a gunshot, to scare hippos away. Considered among Africa’s most dangerous animals, they can tip boats and kill people who get too close.
Mr. Iremonger, 30, was born in England but for the last 13 years has lived in Gabon and Guinea, in West Africa, and Zambia and Botswana, in Southern Africa. He specializes in guiding travelers along the continent’s waterways by kayak and canoe.
I heard about Mr. Iremonger through Michael Lorentz, a veteran African guide who founded Passage to Africa, a South Africa-based company. Mr. Lorentz and his 14 fellow guides, including Mr. Iremonger, design and lead safaris that focus on certain animals, such as mountain gorillas or elephants, or a territory, from the Democratic Republic of the Congo to Namibia’s Skeleton Coast.
On paper, Mr. Iremonger looked like he knew his game. His résumé included two African Great Lake kayak trips: a 38-day circumnavigation of Lake Malawi and a 22-day trek covering the length of Lake Tanganyika. The trip I joined was part of a 67-day, 1,058-mile “first,” paddling the Cuito tributary of the Okavango river, which rises in the Angolan Highlands before tipping through Namibia into the alluvial fan in Botswana. Mr. Iremonger canoed most of this route with just one other man, Daniel Dugmore, 24.
Mr. Iremonger opened up a week of his expedition, during the Botswana portion, to paying clients. I traveled from my home in the United Kingdom and was joined by three South Africans. If the five-night package is repeated, it will cost $3,550 per person, excluding airfares into and out of the international airport in Maun, the dusty frontier town from which one accesses the delta, and the bush-plane or helicopter charter to the starting point upriver. Because this was the first time Mr. Iremonger had opened an expedition to guests, and it was sold last minute, we paid $1,200 each. We joined him on day 38 of his journey to canoe the central delta’s floodplain, traveling from Chao, within the Moremi Game Reserve, to Maun.
Mr. Iremonger spruced up the amenities for us, bringing in a camp cook, five staff and simple tents raised on the riverbank ahead of our arrival each afternoon. We also spent a night at an eco-lodge called Oddballs, which I loved. The solar-heated bucket showers—a pail of water hauled above, then poured onto, one’s head using pulleys—ran longer than those of our traveling accommodations, where water was heated in kettles over campfires.
Had our group sought luxury, we could have paddled between lodges offering fine wines and massages and costing upward of $1,500 per person per night. But I have traveled comfortably in Africa many times, and I yearned to experience the wilderness as I first had, walking with elephants in Tanzania, in 2008. I wanted to feel the rush of my own vulnerability again, that raw response.
Slipping unnoticed between an ecosystem’s wild creatures proved even more exciting by canoe than by foot. If a hippo didn’t want to let us pass, we had to wait it out or use paddles as poles and punt through channels to circumvent them. We had to be quiet. We also had to be wary of Nile crocodiles.
Bit by bit, my trepidation faded under Mr. Iremonger’s leadership. He told us that during winter months, from May to August, crocodiles tend to keep to themselves, soaking up heat on the waterways’ sandy beaches. Their metabolism slows down. They feed less. In June, when night temperatures can drop below freezing, snapping at our canoes was a low priority.
“Good guiding is about giving these animals space,” he said. While he wasn’t claiming to remove all risk, it became clear this trip was not about courting danger. It was necessary to be relatively fit not only because we propelled ourselves but so we could get out of harm’s way if necessary. We also benefited from a motorboat looking for hippo in advance of our flotilla.
Thankfully the hum of that engine was usually too far ahead to interfere with the heightened aural experience a canoe provided. Sitting low in the water with high reeds on every side, I felt as if I’d entered the set of “Honey, I Shrunk the Kids.” We often heard creatures but did not see them: the rutting growl of a male impala, and in the evenings, the low rumble of lions. Then the vista would open up, revealing a distant shoreline of silhouetted fan palms reflected on water flat as glass.
Elephants were abundant, feeding beside the river, their populations thriving under Botswana’s stable, conservation-focused government. Rhinos, however, haven’t fared well in the poaching crisis afflicting the continent. Mr. Iremonger’s expedition was raising funds for Rhinos Without Borders, an initiative to relocate to Botswana 100 black rhinos and white rhinos from the poaching fields of South Africa.
It was the bird life, however, that made this journey unique. Our near silence left undisturbed an African jacana, whose long toes enable it to spread its weight over floating lily pads, and a rare pair of wattled cranes—birds that stand almost 6 feet tall. I watched a hamerkop staring at its own reflection and wondered if it, too, thought the crown on its head was derivative of a pterodactyl.
Fishing was also part of this trip, in water that was black-brown, like the peat lakes of Ireland. Catfish as long as my arm slipped beneath the prow of my canoe. To break up the hours of paddling, we walked some of the delta’s larger islands. In a glade of ebony trees, we found a Pel’s fishing owl, about 2 feet tall, with a slow, glowing stare from black onyx eyes. At our last camp, we walked to within 50 feet of rare African wild dogs, watching the pack rest in a forest-shaded dust bowl.
We worked hard for our rewards. On the longest day on the water, we covered 27 miles, paddling for eight hours, sometimes into a headwind. We got blisters on our hands. Two of us fell in. I canoed in a boat with Mr. Iremonger, who unlike me, never missed a stroke. By the end of each day our appetites were rapacious, and we devoured wood-seared beef fillet, foil-baked chicken and roasted squash.
Out on the water, there were times we mistook ripples for hippos. A few times, I nearly lost my nerve.
“A little bit of fear can be a healthy thing,” our guide told me one afternoon. “It makes you feel alert.” I wanted him to tell me about the Angola part of his expedition and his plans for a river trip in Gabon in 2016, but I didn’t ask. Instead we fell to silence. I paddled on, conscious of how alive I felt in that moment in the Okavango Delta in the middle of Africa where for six days, I counted just eight motorboats, 20 other tourists, and not a single 4x4.
These details I can recall, although my priority at that moment was the search for hippopotamus backs glinting pewter in the sun. Every day on this five-night journey in June—paddling in a flotilla of two-person canoes on an 83-mile river safari—we saw hippos wallowing in the oxbows of water formed by the Okavango’s annual flood. We listened for their honks and burps, and watched nervously for the wave of water that indicated a hippo had submerged and was possibly moving toward us.
We learned these skills from our guide, Josh Iremonger. He also taught us paddle-slapping, which sounds like a gunshot, to scare hippos away. Considered among Africa’s most dangerous animals, they can tip boats and kill people who get too close.
Mr. Iremonger, 30, was born in England but for the last 13 years has lived in Gabon and Guinea, in West Africa, and Zambia and Botswana, in Southern Africa. He specializes in guiding travelers along the continent’s waterways by kayak and canoe.
I heard about Mr. Iremonger through Michael Lorentz, a veteran African guide who founded Passage to Africa, a South Africa-based company. Mr. Lorentz and his 14 fellow guides, including Mr. Iremonger, design and lead safaris that focus on certain animals, such as mountain gorillas or elephants, or a territory, from the Democratic Republic of the Congo to Namibia’s Skeleton Coast.
On paper, Mr. Iremonger looked like he knew his game. His résumé included two African Great Lake kayak trips: a 38-day circumnavigation of Lake Malawi and a 22-day trek covering the length of Lake Tanganyika. The trip I joined was part of a 67-day, 1,058-mile “first,” paddling the Cuito tributary of the Okavango river, which rises in the Angolan Highlands before tipping through Namibia into the alluvial fan in Botswana. Mr. Iremonger canoed most of this route with just one other man, Daniel Dugmore, 24.
Mr. Iremonger opened up a week of his expedition, during the Botswana portion, to paying clients. I traveled from my home in the United Kingdom and was joined by three South Africans. If the five-night package is repeated, it will cost $3,550 per person, excluding airfares into and out of the international airport in Maun, the dusty frontier town from which one accesses the delta, and the bush-plane or helicopter charter to the starting point upriver. Because this was the first time Mr. Iremonger had opened an expedition to guests, and it was sold last minute, we paid $1,200 each. We joined him on day 38 of his journey to canoe the central delta’s floodplain, traveling from Chao, within the Moremi Game Reserve, to Maun.
Mr. Iremonger spruced up the amenities for us, bringing in a camp cook, five staff and simple tents raised on the riverbank ahead of our arrival each afternoon. We also spent a night at an eco-lodge called Oddballs, which I loved. The solar-heated bucket showers—a pail of water hauled above, then poured onto, one’s head using pulleys—ran longer than those of our traveling accommodations, where water was heated in kettles over campfires.
Had our group sought luxury, we could have paddled between lodges offering fine wines and massages and costing upward of $1,500 per person per night. But I have traveled comfortably in Africa many times, and I yearned to experience the wilderness as I first had, walking with elephants in Tanzania, in 2008. I wanted to feel the rush of my own vulnerability again, that raw response.
Slipping unnoticed between an ecosystem’s wild creatures proved even more exciting by canoe than by foot. If a hippo didn’t want to let us pass, we had to wait it out or use paddles as poles and punt through channels to circumvent them. We had to be quiet. We also had to be wary of Nile crocodiles.
Bit by bit, my trepidation faded under Mr. Iremonger’s leadership. He told us that during winter months, from May to August, crocodiles tend to keep to themselves, soaking up heat on the waterways’ sandy beaches. Their metabolism slows down. They feed less. In June, when night temperatures can drop below freezing, snapping at our canoes was a low priority.
“Good guiding is about giving these animals space,” he said. While he wasn’t claiming to remove all risk, it became clear this trip was not about courting danger. It was necessary to be relatively fit not only because we propelled ourselves but so we could get out of harm’s way if necessary. We also benefited from a motorboat looking for hippo in advance of our flotilla.
Thankfully the hum of that engine was usually too far ahead to interfere with the heightened aural experience a canoe provided. Sitting low in the water with high reeds on every side, I felt as if I’d entered the set of “Honey, I Shrunk the Kids.” We often heard creatures but did not see them: the rutting growl of a male impala, and in the evenings, the low rumble of lions. Then the vista would open up, revealing a distant shoreline of silhouetted fan palms reflected on water flat as glass.
Elephants were abundant, feeding beside the river, their populations thriving under Botswana’s stable, conservation-focused government. Rhinos, however, haven’t fared well in the poaching crisis afflicting the continent. Mr. Iremonger’s expedition was raising funds for Rhinos Without Borders, an initiative to relocate to Botswana 100 black rhinos and white rhinos from the poaching fields of South Africa.
It was the bird life, however, that made this journey unique. Our near silence left undisturbed an African jacana, whose long toes enable it to spread its weight over floating lily pads, and a rare pair of wattled cranes—birds that stand almost 6 feet tall. I watched a hamerkop staring at its own reflection and wondered if it, too, thought the crown on its head was derivative of a pterodactyl.
Fishing was also part of this trip, in water that was black-brown, like the peat lakes of Ireland. Catfish as long as my arm slipped beneath the prow of my canoe. To break up the hours of paddling, we walked some of the delta’s larger islands. In a glade of ebony trees, we found a Pel’s fishing owl, about 2 feet tall, with a slow, glowing stare from black onyx eyes. At our last camp, we walked to within 50 feet of rare African wild dogs, watching the pack rest in a forest-shaded dust bowl.
We worked hard for our rewards. On the longest day on the water, we covered 27 miles, paddling for eight hours, sometimes into a headwind. We got blisters on our hands. Two of us fell in. I canoed in a boat with Mr. Iremonger, who unlike me, never missed a stroke. By the end of each day our appetites were rapacious, and we devoured wood-seared beef fillet, foil-baked chicken and roasted squash.
Out on the water, there were times we mistook ripples for hippos. A few times, I nearly lost my nerve.
“A little bit of fear can be a healthy thing,” our guide told me one afternoon. “It makes you feel alert.” I wanted him to tell me about the Angola part of his expedition and his plans for a river trip in Gabon in 2016, but I didn’t ask. Instead we fell to silence. I paddled on, conscious of how alive I felt in that moment in the Okavango Delta in the middle of Africa where for six days, I counted just eight motorboats, 20 other tourists, and not a single 4x4.
Africa Geographic
Canoe For Conservation
Expedition Okavango 2015
www.icanoeforconservation.com
Expedition Okavango is now underway! At the beginning of May, Josh Iremonger and Daniel Dugmore set off on a three month canoe descent of the Cubango-Okavango River Basin.
Over the course of their journey, they will take on six crocodile and hippo infested rivers, three African countries (Angola, Namibia and Botswana), and navigate their way around some of Africa’s least explored areas.
Over the course of their journey, they will take on six crocodile and hippo infested rivers, three African countries (Angola, Namibia and Botswana), and navigate their way around some of Africa’s least explored areas.
The Boston Globe
Encountering wildlife on a canoe trip in Botswana
by David Arnold Globe Correspondent January 25, 2014
OKAVANGO DELTA — We were one short hour into a four-day expedition down the remote Selinda River, hugging the shoreline to avoid hippos, when a 12,000-pound bull elephant advanced and challenged.
I could smell his musk and feel the air as he shook his head.
“Remain calm. Sit tight,” our guide, Josh Iremonger, said quietly. “He’s just being a teenager.” Sure enough, moments later the elephant backed up.
Two realities struck me. I was headed far outside my comfort zone. And for the duration of this trip I would trust this unpretentious young guide with a soft voice, a big gun, and the profile of a Hollywood actor.
Hippos in the Selinda River have their own display behavior when they emerge, annoyed, from under water.
The adventure is called the Selinda Canoe Trail, a 28-mile wilderness meander through northern Botswana on a river that seasonally performs a vanishing act. A thread of the Okavango Delta, the Selinda is part of a network of waterways created when summer rains fill streams that flow inland. From June through August, Selinda is navigable for canoes. And then it dries up.
For a paddler seeking a remote experience in Africa, the river has two remarkable attributes. Since it is seldom more than a few feet deep, it is (usually) too shallow for hippos and crocs. And because the river flows entirely within operating terrain of just one company — Great Plains Conservation — tourist traffic is tightly controlled. No more than one flotilla (comprising eight guests, a guide, and four supporting staff) is on the river at a time.
Our group, some new to canoeing, included my wife and two grown children, two Britons, and two Aussies. For three-plus days in September we were seldom closer than 50 miles from the nearest civilization, which might be a few huts at best. We saw no other people, heard no engines, stumbled across no trash, and encountered no evidence that anything from one horizon to the other had changed for millennia. Not only did the Selinda take me out of my comfort zone, it catapulted me delightfully outside my element.
The classic Land Rover safari mixes people with wildlife aboard a vehicle familiar to the animals. You are invisible. On the Selinda you are a foreign object aboard a tippy canoe, quite visible — and vulnerable. The status of the river guide falls somewhere between protector and savior.
“Here we are visitors. The animals are in charge and we play by their rules,” Iremonger briefed us on the first day. “We are often the first humans they have ever seen.” Or eaten? Some of us contemplated this the previous afternoon when a series of mishaps (stuck vehicles without tow ropes, flat tires without lug wrenches) stranded us into the dusk on a lonely dirt road. These things happen in the bush, the locals say. “TIA. This Is Africa.”
Of English descent, Iremonger, 29, has guided for Great Plains since 2010, the year after its Selinda adventure began. To date some 400 guests have taken the trip without serious mishap, according to a company spokeswoman. So far, Iremonger’s .458 Winchester Magnum rifle has been only precautionary.
“If I ever had to use it, I will have failed,” said this taciturn man who believes the animal world could teach us much. “Everything here has its place. Everything is functional, nothing is wasted.”
A case in point: Frequently we would go ashore for an interpretive hike, in tight formation like the Seven Dwarfs plus one behind the guide. During one such foray, Iremonger stopped to examine what appeared to be a clump of chalk. It was decayed hyena feces. Lions might have killed and eaten a buffalo, then vultures picked the bones clean, then hyenas ate the bones for the calcium that turned the poop white, and now insects were finishing the job.
Our first hippo meeting came midway through day one. The river was shallow but had pockets of hippo-deep water. Iremonger had spotted the animal’s ears and eyes above the water a few boat lengths ahead and quietly ordered us to halt. Seconds later — WHOOSH! the river erupted and what could have been 6,000 pounds of bloated sausage popped up grunting and snorting with a gaping maw. One tight corner took us past 10 hippos. Independently bobbing and grunting, they were close enough to share their dank breath.
Our daily routine included an interpretive morning hike, then breakfast, a paddle until lunch and a nap, then more paddling until dusk. We might cover 12 miles in a day. The staff in their own equipment-laden canoes would leapfrog ahead to prepare lunch and the evening campsite.
They caught our boats coming ashore, unloaded them, made the campfire, pitched the tents, sheeted the beds, filled our individual wash basins, erected the tented latrines and warm-water showers, mixed the gin and tonics, cooked the meals, popped the wine corks, set the lamp-lighted table, put the napkins in the napkin rings, and did the dishes. Camping?
Of the myriad episodes that took me to new places on this trip, two stand out.
I was awakened late one night by a stampeding herd of water buffalo not far from the tent. The ground shook. Then the air filled with a blood curdling, raspy bass roar of a lion, followed by nasty screams of squabbling hyenas. Then total silence. The next morning, I asked Iremonger why such a herd could not have stampeded right through our campsite. I was curious about the nuance of tent placement in the bush.
“They could have,” he responded.
The other episode evolved more slowly. We were perhaps 2 miles from our final campsite when an animal, standing still in the water, came into view with odd features — huge hind legs, a towering emaciated torso, and a left front leg grossly swollen and severely bent the wrong way at the knee. The life form appeared to be made of malleable clay.
The closer we got, the more we realized this was an elephant that had broken its leg. Crippled, it would not live long.
For days we had photographed anything that moved, but no one reached for a camera as we passed the doomed creature in silence.
Iremonger later explained that he had seen the lame animal a week earlier. The elephant had probably stepped in an aardvark hole. It visibly disturbed Iremonger to elaborate.
In an exchange of e-mails after the trip, Iremonger said he had passed the site on the next expedition. White bone was all that remained of the elephant, and it was vanishing.
Life recycled. Efficient, functional, sustainable.
This is Africa.
David Arnold can be reached at [email protected].
I could smell his musk and feel the air as he shook his head.
“Remain calm. Sit tight,” our guide, Josh Iremonger, said quietly. “He’s just being a teenager.” Sure enough, moments later the elephant backed up.
Two realities struck me. I was headed far outside my comfort zone. And for the duration of this trip I would trust this unpretentious young guide with a soft voice, a big gun, and the profile of a Hollywood actor.
Hippos in the Selinda River have their own display behavior when they emerge, annoyed, from under water.
The adventure is called the Selinda Canoe Trail, a 28-mile wilderness meander through northern Botswana on a river that seasonally performs a vanishing act. A thread of the Okavango Delta, the Selinda is part of a network of waterways created when summer rains fill streams that flow inland. From June through August, Selinda is navigable for canoes. And then it dries up.
For a paddler seeking a remote experience in Africa, the river has two remarkable attributes. Since it is seldom more than a few feet deep, it is (usually) too shallow for hippos and crocs. And because the river flows entirely within operating terrain of just one company — Great Plains Conservation — tourist traffic is tightly controlled. No more than one flotilla (comprising eight guests, a guide, and four supporting staff) is on the river at a time.
Our group, some new to canoeing, included my wife and two grown children, two Britons, and two Aussies. For three-plus days in September we were seldom closer than 50 miles from the nearest civilization, which might be a few huts at best. We saw no other people, heard no engines, stumbled across no trash, and encountered no evidence that anything from one horizon to the other had changed for millennia. Not only did the Selinda take me out of my comfort zone, it catapulted me delightfully outside my element.
The classic Land Rover safari mixes people with wildlife aboard a vehicle familiar to the animals. You are invisible. On the Selinda you are a foreign object aboard a tippy canoe, quite visible — and vulnerable. The status of the river guide falls somewhere between protector and savior.
“Here we are visitors. The animals are in charge and we play by their rules,” Iremonger briefed us on the first day. “We are often the first humans they have ever seen.” Or eaten? Some of us contemplated this the previous afternoon when a series of mishaps (stuck vehicles without tow ropes, flat tires without lug wrenches) stranded us into the dusk on a lonely dirt road. These things happen in the bush, the locals say. “TIA. This Is Africa.”
Of English descent, Iremonger, 29, has guided for Great Plains since 2010, the year after its Selinda adventure began. To date some 400 guests have taken the trip without serious mishap, according to a company spokeswoman. So far, Iremonger’s .458 Winchester Magnum rifle has been only precautionary.
“If I ever had to use it, I will have failed,” said this taciturn man who believes the animal world could teach us much. “Everything here has its place. Everything is functional, nothing is wasted.”
A case in point: Frequently we would go ashore for an interpretive hike, in tight formation like the Seven Dwarfs plus one behind the guide. During one such foray, Iremonger stopped to examine what appeared to be a clump of chalk. It was decayed hyena feces. Lions might have killed and eaten a buffalo, then vultures picked the bones clean, then hyenas ate the bones for the calcium that turned the poop white, and now insects were finishing the job.
Our first hippo meeting came midway through day one. The river was shallow but had pockets of hippo-deep water. Iremonger had spotted the animal’s ears and eyes above the water a few boat lengths ahead and quietly ordered us to halt. Seconds later — WHOOSH! the river erupted and what could have been 6,000 pounds of bloated sausage popped up grunting and snorting with a gaping maw. One tight corner took us past 10 hippos. Independently bobbing and grunting, they were close enough to share their dank breath.
Our daily routine included an interpretive morning hike, then breakfast, a paddle until lunch and a nap, then more paddling until dusk. We might cover 12 miles in a day. The staff in their own equipment-laden canoes would leapfrog ahead to prepare lunch and the evening campsite.
They caught our boats coming ashore, unloaded them, made the campfire, pitched the tents, sheeted the beds, filled our individual wash basins, erected the tented latrines and warm-water showers, mixed the gin and tonics, cooked the meals, popped the wine corks, set the lamp-lighted table, put the napkins in the napkin rings, and did the dishes. Camping?
Of the myriad episodes that took me to new places on this trip, two stand out.
I was awakened late one night by a stampeding herd of water buffalo not far from the tent. The ground shook. Then the air filled with a blood curdling, raspy bass roar of a lion, followed by nasty screams of squabbling hyenas. Then total silence. The next morning, I asked Iremonger why such a herd could not have stampeded right through our campsite. I was curious about the nuance of tent placement in the bush.
“They could have,” he responded.
The other episode evolved more slowly. We were perhaps 2 miles from our final campsite when an animal, standing still in the water, came into view with odd features — huge hind legs, a towering emaciated torso, and a left front leg grossly swollen and severely bent the wrong way at the knee. The life form appeared to be made of malleable clay.
The closer we got, the more we realized this was an elephant that had broken its leg. Crippled, it would not live long.
For days we had photographed anything that moved, but no one reached for a camera as we passed the doomed creature in silence.
Iremonger later explained that he had seen the lame animal a week earlier. The elephant had probably stepped in an aardvark hole. It visibly disturbed Iremonger to elaborate.
In an exchange of e-mails after the trip, Iremonger said he had passed the site on the next expedition. White bone was all that remained of the elephant, and it was vanishing.
Life recycled. Efficient, functional, sustainable.
This is Africa.
David Arnold can be reached at [email protected].
ZAMBEZI TRAVELLER
Tracing the waters of Okavango
by Julia Jackson
Two intrepid explorers are set to pioneer a canoe trail following the waters of the Okavango Delta from its highland source to its disappearance in the desert.
Meet the team: Josh Iremonger and Daniel Dugmore. Dugmore studied photography in England and is an avid photographer. He is a qualified field guide and lives in Botswana,where he manages Kavango Safari Company and leads safaris into the Makgadikgadi Salt Pans.
Iremonger has led safaris all over Africa including Botswana, Mozambique, Malawi and Zambia and has accumulated an impressive 3,500km guiding the waterways of Africa. He has been featured in Zambezi Traveller before, for another campaign in which he walked from Kazungula to Maun to raise funds and awareness for men’s health.
On 28 April the two are set to embark on yet another mission- this time to aid the rhino population of Africa. They plan to be the first people to canoe the Okavango River system from source to ‘sea’, starting in the highlands of Angola and finishing in theMakgadikgadi salt pans of Botswana.
This adventure is being embarked on in hopes of raisingUS$75,000 for Rhinos Without Borders, collaboration between governments and the tourism industry to support translocation of rhinos to safe havens in Botswana.
Rhinos Without Borders plans to use a quarter of the funds for the conservation, protection and monitoring of the source population, which is in South Africa. Another quarter is set to be invested in anti-poaching efforts and security systems in Botswana and the remaining half of the funds will go towards the capture, transport, holding bomas and eventual release of the animals in Botswana.
Meet the team: Josh Iremonger and Daniel Dugmore. Dugmore studied photography in England and is an avid photographer. He is a qualified field guide and lives in Botswana,where he manages Kavango Safari Company and leads safaris into the Makgadikgadi Salt Pans.
Iremonger has led safaris all over Africa including Botswana, Mozambique, Malawi and Zambia and has accumulated an impressive 3,500km guiding the waterways of Africa. He has been featured in Zambezi Traveller before, for another campaign in which he walked from Kazungula to Maun to raise funds and awareness for men’s health.
On 28 April the two are set to embark on yet another mission- this time to aid the rhino population of Africa. They plan to be the first people to canoe the Okavango River system from source to ‘sea’, starting in the highlands of Angola and finishing in theMakgadikgadi salt pans of Botswana.
This adventure is being embarked on in hopes of raisingUS$75,000 for Rhinos Without Borders, collaboration between governments and the tourism industry to support translocation of rhinos to safe havens in Botswana.
Rhinos Without Borders plans to use a quarter of the funds for the conservation, protection and monitoring of the source population, which is in South Africa. Another quarter is set to be invested in anti-poaching efforts and security systems in Botswana and the remaining half of the funds will go towards the capture, transport, holding bomas and eventual release of the animals in Botswana.
Fodor's Travel
by Janice Alder August
We are a family of 4 (2 parents and 2 tweens). We spent 4 days on the Selinda Spillway canoeing & camping with Great Plains Conservation during mid-August (winter) of 2012.
We had an amazing time on this trip and I highly recommend it for anyone looking for a really immersive experience in Botswana. The safari consists of 3 nights; we started with a half-day of canoeing and exploring, followed by 2 full days and a half-day on the last day.
Our guide, Josh Iremonger, met us at the Selinda airstrip, and I was concerned because he looks about 14 years old. However, I was completely mislead by his youthful appearance. He is a wonderful guide-- experienced and unbelievably knowledgeable. He is charming and lively companion and the kids loved him. He is full of deep respect and affection for the land and its inhabitants, including both fauna and flora. And he taught us the same. Josh really engages your senses and we enjoyed smelling the wild sage and learning about acacia trees almost as much as finding lion and civet cat prints and seeing the baboons. He really knows his stuff and before we even got to the Spillway, we saw a heard of wildebeest and an incredible sight-- a leopard in a tree consuming its kill, a porcupine. That was only the first hour of the trip.
During the safari, we paddled our own canoes along the Spillway and then stopped to camp on shore every night. Paddling was work but is completely doable for those in good health even if you aren't very athletic-- like me. There was a nice mix of paddling, walking safaris, and even a little lazing about and swimming. In the evening, Josh seemed to time it just right every time, and we'd arrive at camp just a little before sundown.
The team that managed the camp was amazing. We did nothing but enjoy ourselves at camp. The food was varied, delicious and healthful, especially dinner, with fresh baked bread and roasted vegetables a well as a delicious meat. And the tents were very comfortable with these cozy bedrolls. It was quite wonderful to lie snuggled in five star hotel linens and duvets with a hot water bottle, and listen to the elephants and hippos in the distance. KG, Force and Tsejay (whose names I'm butchering) were the part of the gracious and hard-working camp team whose names I remember, but everyone was friendly, helpful and welcoming.
The highlights were the leopard sighting, paddling past a pod of hippos-- scary!-- and paddling between two herds of elephants. But we also saw hyenas, numerous birds, baboons (if you wave, sometimes they wave back!), giraffes, mongoose, impala, kudu, and many many other animals. We even let Josh talk us into a giraffe poo spitting contest. It was a true adventure all round.
The Spillway is a recent addition to the landscape and has only been in existence for 3 years. Who knows if will still be there in another 5. It's a great way to see the land because you are really in it as opposed to driving around grimly in a jeep trying to find that one lion. Instead, you are on the water (where the animals are come to drink of course) and you see all kinds of unexpected things as you glide along.
We had an amazing time on this trip and I highly recommend it for anyone looking for a really immersive experience in Botswana. The safari consists of 3 nights; we started with a half-day of canoeing and exploring, followed by 2 full days and a half-day on the last day.
Our guide, Josh Iremonger, met us at the Selinda airstrip, and I was concerned because he looks about 14 years old. However, I was completely mislead by his youthful appearance. He is a wonderful guide-- experienced and unbelievably knowledgeable. He is charming and lively companion and the kids loved him. He is full of deep respect and affection for the land and its inhabitants, including both fauna and flora. And he taught us the same. Josh really engages your senses and we enjoyed smelling the wild sage and learning about acacia trees almost as much as finding lion and civet cat prints and seeing the baboons. He really knows his stuff and before we even got to the Spillway, we saw a heard of wildebeest and an incredible sight-- a leopard in a tree consuming its kill, a porcupine. That was only the first hour of the trip.
During the safari, we paddled our own canoes along the Spillway and then stopped to camp on shore every night. Paddling was work but is completely doable for those in good health even if you aren't very athletic-- like me. There was a nice mix of paddling, walking safaris, and even a little lazing about and swimming. In the evening, Josh seemed to time it just right every time, and we'd arrive at camp just a little before sundown.
The team that managed the camp was amazing. We did nothing but enjoy ourselves at camp. The food was varied, delicious and healthful, especially dinner, with fresh baked bread and roasted vegetables a well as a delicious meat. And the tents were very comfortable with these cozy bedrolls. It was quite wonderful to lie snuggled in five star hotel linens and duvets with a hot water bottle, and listen to the elephants and hippos in the distance. KG, Force and Tsejay (whose names I'm butchering) were the part of the gracious and hard-working camp team whose names I remember, but everyone was friendly, helpful and welcoming.
The highlights were the leopard sighting, paddling past a pod of hippos-- scary!-- and paddling between two herds of elephants. But we also saw hyenas, numerous birds, baboons (if you wave, sometimes they wave back!), giraffes, mongoose, impala, kudu, and many many other animals. We even let Josh talk us into a giraffe poo spitting contest. It was a true adventure all round.
The Spillway is a recent addition to the landscape and has only been in existence for 3 years. Who knows if will still be there in another 5. It's a great way to see the land because you are really in it as opposed to driving around grimly in a jeep trying to find that one lion. Instead, you are on the water (where the animals are come to drink of course) and you see all kinds of unexpected things as you glide along.
CNN Travel
9 ways to travel Africa in style
by Jini Reddy
If you’re a water baby you’ll adore this jaunt.
It’s a new four-day canoe trip along the (once dry) Selinda Spillway which links the Okavango Delta to the Linyanti and Kwando river systems, in the north of Botswana.
You travel with a chef, dine on gourmet three-course meals, freshly baked bread and savor fine wines -- sometimes while sitting in a river in your swimsuit -- and learn about the flora and fauna.
The mobile camps are as luxurious as you can imagine with "proper" showers, toilets, tents with cosy bed rolls and fur-lined hot water bottles.
Oh, and if that’s not inducement enough your meander will be led by expert guide and "hippo whisperer" Josh Iremonger, an "Out of Africa" pin-up.
It’s a new four-day canoe trip along the (once dry) Selinda Spillway which links the Okavango Delta to the Linyanti and Kwando river systems, in the north of Botswana.
You travel with a chef, dine on gourmet three-course meals, freshly baked bread and savor fine wines -- sometimes while sitting in a river in your swimsuit -- and learn about the flora and fauna.
The mobile camps are as luxurious as you can imagine with "proper" showers, toilets, tents with cosy bed rolls and fur-lined hot water bottles.
Oh, and if that’s not inducement enough your meander will be led by expert guide and "hippo whisperer" Josh Iremonger, an "Out of Africa" pin-up.
Angola Croc Nests - Why This is a Big Deal
www.okavango-croc..com
I hear the email ping, it's a message from Josh. It reads "camped on a small jurassic isl in the Cuito River & found 5+ croc nests 1 which was this years with lots of empty eggshells AMAZING". Josh Iremonger and Dan Dugmore are paddling from the source of the Okavango River in Angola, all the way down to this systems inland finishing point in the Makgadikgadi Salt Pans. The guys are doing this for a great cause (http://www.icanoeforconservation.com) and have offered to pick up some crocodile specific information for us along the way. Our crocodile conservation programme is now 13 years old and any information from the upper reaches is essential to the long term database that we manage. Why was this message so important to us? Crocodile nests in Angola - so whats the big deal?
As a long term research programme we understand that campaigns to protect areas require strong partnerships between many stakeholders. Recognition of "ground work" is essential and this is why we communicate with local organisations such as SAREP and OKACOM in Maun, Botswana. We were lucky to have carried out two separate biodiversity surveys in this catchment in 2012 and 2013, so we understand the current challenges this region faces (http://www.okacom.org/okacoms-work/partners-and-projects/projects/partner-projects/sarep/sarep-documents?b_start:int=20). Our work in these initial biodiversity surveys recognised that the Cuito river has suitable habitat for crocodile nesting and we also managed to capture young crocodiles in this system, so we understood that nesting up in these areas was likely. We were however, not able to confirm any nesting sites. What Josh and Dan have found are the first confirmed crocodiles nesting sites in the Okavango catchment in Angola.
Crocs currently do not have the luxury of nesting in any protected areas in the Okavango. Many people and visiting tourists are not aware of that fact. While you are likely to see large crocodiles in the protected Okavango Delta, you will not find any nests there. 98% of the crocodile nesting sites are located along the unprotected Okavango Panhandle. Our research has assisted in showning a significant decrease in the number of nests along this stretch of river over the last 30 years. Apart from the highly erratic Selinda Spillway (which connects the Okavango and Zambezi systems), the Okavango is a closed system. This means that if we do not protect the nesting habitat we know of, we may be threatening the existence of these ancient reptiles throughout the entire system. So the first reason that this find is significant is that there aren't many nests along the Okavango River due to large and increasing human pressures such as fires, cattle grazing and human utilisation of the river.
Secondly, the crocodile nests in Angola, represent "strength in diversity". What? Well, the way we see it is - while there may be many negative points to having one incredible wilderness system spread over three countries, we think that this can also have an equal amount of positives. If we are now able to say that the Okavango crocodile nests are spread over the three countries that share this wetland system (Angola, Namibia, Botswana) then we see this as three different opportunities to protect nesting for the entire system. Crocodiles do not require passports to cross into these three countries, so essentially - if one of these nations is not able to manage this critical habitat, then we are pleased to now know that the crocodiles will still be able to successfully breed and nest in another portion. Attempts by organisations such as OKACOM aim to get all three nations to recognise the importance of unified management efforts. While this is the best case scenario, we know that Africa often plays by it's own rules. The nests in Angola provide just another option for the conservation of this species in the system - it is not just significant for the ecology of the species, but also the politics around management of this species.
Josh and Dan have just recently entered Botswana and will be paddling into the alluvial fan (semi permanent swamp) of Okavango Delta in the next day or two. After weeks of paddling on an incredible river system that stretches over three countries, they will only now be entering the first stretch of river that is formally protected as a wildlife conservation area. The world famous Okavango Delta is critically important to the economy of Botswana, but this incredible wilderness system remains vulnerable if the upper reaches of this system are not protected. For now though, we celebrate the fact that the crocodile nesting range is a larger than originally described and we hope that the neighbouring countries will soon give these areas the protection they deserve.
Make sure you follow the last exciting leg of the boys epic paddle through the Okavango Delta and into the Makgadikgadi pans! http://www.icanoeforconservation.com/#!track/cjrl
As a long term research programme we understand that campaigns to protect areas require strong partnerships between many stakeholders. Recognition of "ground work" is essential and this is why we communicate with local organisations such as SAREP and OKACOM in Maun, Botswana. We were lucky to have carried out two separate biodiversity surveys in this catchment in 2012 and 2013, so we understand the current challenges this region faces (http://www.okacom.org/okacoms-work/partners-and-projects/projects/partner-projects/sarep/sarep-documents?b_start:int=20). Our work in these initial biodiversity surveys recognised that the Cuito river has suitable habitat for crocodile nesting and we also managed to capture young crocodiles in this system, so we understood that nesting up in these areas was likely. We were however, not able to confirm any nesting sites. What Josh and Dan have found are the first confirmed crocodiles nesting sites in the Okavango catchment in Angola.
Crocs currently do not have the luxury of nesting in any protected areas in the Okavango. Many people and visiting tourists are not aware of that fact. While you are likely to see large crocodiles in the protected Okavango Delta, you will not find any nests there. 98% of the crocodile nesting sites are located along the unprotected Okavango Panhandle. Our research has assisted in showning a significant decrease in the number of nests along this stretch of river over the last 30 years. Apart from the highly erratic Selinda Spillway (which connects the Okavango and Zambezi systems), the Okavango is a closed system. This means that if we do not protect the nesting habitat we know of, we may be threatening the existence of these ancient reptiles throughout the entire system. So the first reason that this find is significant is that there aren't many nests along the Okavango River due to large and increasing human pressures such as fires, cattle grazing and human utilisation of the river.
Secondly, the crocodile nests in Angola, represent "strength in diversity". What? Well, the way we see it is - while there may be many negative points to having one incredible wilderness system spread over three countries, we think that this can also have an equal amount of positives. If we are now able to say that the Okavango crocodile nests are spread over the three countries that share this wetland system (Angola, Namibia, Botswana) then we see this as three different opportunities to protect nesting for the entire system. Crocodiles do not require passports to cross into these three countries, so essentially - if one of these nations is not able to manage this critical habitat, then we are pleased to now know that the crocodiles will still be able to successfully breed and nest in another portion. Attempts by organisations such as OKACOM aim to get all three nations to recognise the importance of unified management efforts. While this is the best case scenario, we know that Africa often plays by it's own rules. The nests in Angola provide just another option for the conservation of this species in the system - it is not just significant for the ecology of the species, but also the politics around management of this species.
Josh and Dan have just recently entered Botswana and will be paddling into the alluvial fan (semi permanent swamp) of Okavango Delta in the next day or two. After weeks of paddling on an incredible river system that stretches over three countries, they will only now be entering the first stretch of river that is formally protected as a wildlife conservation area. The world famous Okavango Delta is critically important to the economy of Botswana, but this incredible wilderness system remains vulnerable if the upper reaches of this system are not protected. For now though, we celebrate the fact that the crocodile nesting range is a larger than originally described and we hope that the neighbouring countries will soon give these areas the protection they deserve.
Make sure you follow the last exciting leg of the boys epic paddle through the Okavango Delta and into the Makgadikgadi pans! http://www.icanoeforconservation.com/#!track/cjrl
Angolan Croc Nests
Investigating The Nest "Scene"
by Vince Shacks
The Angolan boat men have returned from the scene and have with them, some fascinating photographs to back up their story. The trip was long and hard and we can never be sure that our troops weren't just caught up in the moment and jumped to conclusions when discovering this nest. The first record of a Nile crocodile nest site in the Okavango catchment in Angola - it's a big call. Lets look at the facts: 30 years of civil war left the countries wildlife population decimated. Crocodiles who are not loved at the best of times, would surely not have been spared during this conflict. With most households having access to a gun, the crocodiles really do not have much of a chance. The boys maintain that not only have they seen large adult crocodiles along the river, but they have now also found a nest site.
The suspect: Nile Crocodile (Crocodylus niloticus). The "crime": Nesting. Let's assess the scene..
Exhibit 1: This image clearly indicates that the island in question is in fact adjacent to the main river channel. Female crocodiles usually keep their nest sites close to fast flowing, deep water channel which they can use for a number of reasons including temperature regulation, refuge (if threatened) and easy access for the new hatchlings to disperse from once they have left the creche area. Verdict: Suitable site.
Exhibit 2: A critical finding. The croc "slide" - this is one of the most distinguishing factors at every croc nest. Female crocodiles will often make use of hippo paths which lead from the main water channel to the river bank. The hippo basically grades this path open using it's size and weight as well as by continuously using the same path. A female crocodile (as efficient as ever) will make use of the same path to access the river banks. Sometimes the paths will be shared (by hippo and croc) during the nesting season, but more often than not, a hippo will stop using a particular path if a female crocodile decides to use the slide that season. How can we tell? The heavy hippo leaves two large and deep foot trenches on the ground, while the flat belly of the crocodile leaves a smooth pan surface. This slide still has a smooth ramp indicating that the crocodile may still be using this site to bask. Verdict: croc slide.
Exhibit 3: An open patch of sandy soil. By open we mean both a lack of vegetation and exposed to direct sunlight. The lack of vegetation allows the female crocodile to easily dig a chamber. The soft white river sand is loosely packed and generally very easy to dig through. The croc chamber will generally be as deep as the female can reach with her back legs. She will then fill the chamber with anything between 40 and 100 eggs. This particular open patch of loose river sand is ideal for a nest site. Verdict: Suitable nesting surface
Exhibit 4: The Creche. Excellent observation by the men. This insignificant little pool of water offers two functions. Firstly - the female croc generally always gives herself two options to escape to the water. We assume that this gives her an option to escape if the threat is coming from her main slide (a hippo, another croc, a human on a boat). The second likely function of this pool is the hatchling "creche". Once the eggs have hatched, the hatchlings will be moved into the creche where they will spend the next two weeks (generally) learning how to swim, climb and hunt. This body of water is protected from the harsh elements of the main river channel and the female will remain close by during this period. Once the hatchlings are large and confident enough, they will move from this small pool into the main channel - where they will be exposed to the various predators of the "big river". Only about 2% of the hatchlings will survive to adulthood. Verdict: Creche
Exhibit 5: Mixed vegetation. A combination of high and low plants provides more options for shade during the day. The female will change her position around this site throughout the day in order to regulate her body temperature. She will move from a position of exposure to direct sunlight into the shade offered by the variety of trees around the site. Verdict: Correct habitat
Exhibit 6: Chamber. The nests in this region are likely to hatch in December or January. So this chamber would now be 6 months old. The rain would have filled the chamber up and washed some of the egg shell fragments away, but the men have been lucky enough to keep the scene clean and find a number of shell fragments around this old chamber. The slight indentation in the ground is a clear indicator of an old chamber. This is also confirmed by the white shell fragments. Verdict: Crocodile egg chamber
Exhibit 7: The egg shell. An egg shell could belong to a host of other species. So how do we know this is a croc egg? Firstly, the size - the scale in this photographs helps us understand the size of this shell. After three months of being in the chamber the croc egg shell becomes a soft, moist, leathery texture which does not, in fact, crack open - but rather tears open once the hatchling decides to pop out. So what we have here is the dried out leathery egg shell that has been discarded by the hatchling and provided us with perfect piece of evidence to support the theory. Verdict: Crocodile egg shell.
To the men of Expedition Okavango, we say congratulation on a valuable species record. We can confirm that this is in fact a Nile crocodile nesting site. A long may it remain so! Now we need to get back there over the nesting season and see how many of these there are out there!
The suspect: Nile Crocodile (Crocodylus niloticus). The "crime": Nesting. Let's assess the scene..
Exhibit 1: This image clearly indicates that the island in question is in fact adjacent to the main river channel. Female crocodiles usually keep their nest sites close to fast flowing, deep water channel which they can use for a number of reasons including temperature regulation, refuge (if threatened) and easy access for the new hatchlings to disperse from once they have left the creche area. Verdict: Suitable site.
Exhibit 2: A critical finding. The croc "slide" - this is one of the most distinguishing factors at every croc nest. Female crocodiles will often make use of hippo paths which lead from the main water channel to the river bank. The hippo basically grades this path open using it's size and weight as well as by continuously using the same path. A female crocodile (as efficient as ever) will make use of the same path to access the river banks. Sometimes the paths will be shared (by hippo and croc) during the nesting season, but more often than not, a hippo will stop using a particular path if a female crocodile decides to use the slide that season. How can we tell? The heavy hippo leaves two large and deep foot trenches on the ground, while the flat belly of the crocodile leaves a smooth pan surface. This slide still has a smooth ramp indicating that the crocodile may still be using this site to bask. Verdict: croc slide.
Exhibit 3: An open patch of sandy soil. By open we mean both a lack of vegetation and exposed to direct sunlight. The lack of vegetation allows the female crocodile to easily dig a chamber. The soft white river sand is loosely packed and generally very easy to dig through. The croc chamber will generally be as deep as the female can reach with her back legs. She will then fill the chamber with anything between 40 and 100 eggs. This particular open patch of loose river sand is ideal for a nest site. Verdict: Suitable nesting surface
Exhibit 4: The Creche. Excellent observation by the men. This insignificant little pool of water offers two functions. Firstly - the female croc generally always gives herself two options to escape to the water. We assume that this gives her an option to escape if the threat is coming from her main slide (a hippo, another croc, a human on a boat). The second likely function of this pool is the hatchling "creche". Once the eggs have hatched, the hatchlings will be moved into the creche where they will spend the next two weeks (generally) learning how to swim, climb and hunt. This body of water is protected from the harsh elements of the main river channel and the female will remain close by during this period. Once the hatchlings are large and confident enough, they will move from this small pool into the main channel - where they will be exposed to the various predators of the "big river". Only about 2% of the hatchlings will survive to adulthood. Verdict: Creche
Exhibit 5: Mixed vegetation. A combination of high and low plants provides more options for shade during the day. The female will change her position around this site throughout the day in order to regulate her body temperature. She will move from a position of exposure to direct sunlight into the shade offered by the variety of trees around the site. Verdict: Correct habitat
Exhibit 6: Chamber. The nests in this region are likely to hatch in December or January. So this chamber would now be 6 months old. The rain would have filled the chamber up and washed some of the egg shell fragments away, but the men have been lucky enough to keep the scene clean and find a number of shell fragments around this old chamber. The slight indentation in the ground is a clear indicator of an old chamber. This is also confirmed by the white shell fragments. Verdict: Crocodile egg chamber
Exhibit 7: The egg shell. An egg shell could belong to a host of other species. So how do we know this is a croc egg? Firstly, the size - the scale in this photographs helps us understand the size of this shell. After three months of being in the chamber the croc egg shell becomes a soft, moist, leathery texture which does not, in fact, crack open - but rather tears open once the hatchling decides to pop out. So what we have here is the dried out leathery egg shell that has been discarded by the hatchling and provided us with perfect piece of evidence to support the theory. Verdict: Crocodile egg shell.
To the men of Expedition Okavango, we say congratulation on a valuable species record. We can confirm that this is in fact a Nile crocodile nesting site. A long may it remain so! Now we need to get back there over the nesting season and see how many of these there are out there!
Gently down the stream
by Sophie Stafford & Neil Aldridge
Zambezi Traveller
This One's For The Men
Movember Maun Trust, also known as Movember Botswana, is a registered trust which holds annual awareness and fundraising campaigns in aid of men's health, specifically prostate cancer, testicular cancer and depression.
This year Movember Botswana and the Cancer Association of Botswana benefited when three friends, Daryl Dandridge, Josh Iremonger and Lawrence Drotsky, embarked on a 370km (230 miles) walk through northern Botswana and its Kalahari sands.
The walk has been named Daryl's Walk - Daryl is 72 with decades of bush experience. The group started on 3 November 2014 by the Zambezi River at Kazungula Ferry border post and finished on 23 November 2014 at Okavango River Lodge on the banks of the Thamalakane River in Maun.
The walkers set off on their trek in the scorching heat but with plenty of cloud build-up, heading towards the northern boundary of Chobe National Park. Over the next few days, despite massive thunderstorms and unforgiving terrain, the group covered good mileage, averaging about 23km a day, encountering a herd of 60 gemsbok and 20 tsessebe along the way.
The rain eased up for a while on day seven but the bush became thicker with the grass being taller than the walkers. Bumping into breeding herds of elephant, sound asleep in the deep shade, some of them lying on their sides, caused the adrenaline to run high.
The following couple of days proved to be the toughest, with searing heat, tonnes of mopane bees finding their way into noses, eyes and ears, and the walkers having to carry two days’ water, food and camping equipment. Water was running short which added extra pressure. A much needed re-supply arrived on about day nine and the group continued into Ngamiland, northern Botswana. Rain made walking difficult and slow – the walkers had to push hard over the next few days to make up the mileage lost.
The last few days through Ngamiland were rewarded with great game sightings, including an impressive herd of eland, a large, stubborn Egyptian cobra in the middle of the path they were following, with plenty of hyaena and lion activity at night around camp. The last camp was at Old Matlapaneng Bridge, the sound of traffic seeming foreign after days in the bush, miles from civilisation. The group arrived in Maun, tired and full of blisters, but happy, to a great welcome ceremony.
This year Movember Botswana and the Cancer Association of Botswana benefited when three friends, Daryl Dandridge, Josh Iremonger and Lawrence Drotsky, embarked on a 370km (230 miles) walk through northern Botswana and its Kalahari sands.
The walk has been named Daryl's Walk - Daryl is 72 with decades of bush experience. The group started on 3 November 2014 by the Zambezi River at Kazungula Ferry border post and finished on 23 November 2014 at Okavango River Lodge on the banks of the Thamalakane River in Maun.
The walkers set off on their trek in the scorching heat but with plenty of cloud build-up, heading towards the northern boundary of Chobe National Park. Over the next few days, despite massive thunderstorms and unforgiving terrain, the group covered good mileage, averaging about 23km a day, encountering a herd of 60 gemsbok and 20 tsessebe along the way.
The rain eased up for a while on day seven but the bush became thicker with the grass being taller than the walkers. Bumping into breeding herds of elephant, sound asleep in the deep shade, some of them lying on their sides, caused the adrenaline to run high.
The following couple of days proved to be the toughest, with searing heat, tonnes of mopane bees finding their way into noses, eyes and ears, and the walkers having to carry two days’ water, food and camping equipment. Water was running short which added extra pressure. A much needed re-supply arrived on about day nine and the group continued into Ngamiland, northern Botswana. Rain made walking difficult and slow – the walkers had to push hard over the next few days to make up the mileage lost.
The last few days through Ngamiland were rewarded with great game sightings, including an impressive herd of eland, a large, stubborn Egyptian cobra in the middle of the path they were following, with plenty of hyaena and lion activity at night around camp. The last camp was at Old Matlapaneng Bridge, the sound of traffic seeming foreign after days in the bush, miles from civilisation. The group arrived in Maun, tired and full of blisters, but happy, to a great welcome ceremony.