Monsoon

The short rainy season has begun, more or less. Two days ago the
clouds broke on Kilimanjaro to reveal loads of fresh snow on Kibo and
Mawenzi, two of the three volcanoes that make up the massif. It was a
thrilling sight, a brief throwback to Hemingway's time, when the peak
was perpetually covered. It's still very dry and dusty in Moshi, though. The strong northeast winds kick up huge clouds of dust, which
finds it's way into the room and covers everything in a layer of
grit. Last night I went to pick up clients at the airport. Just
venturing beyond the hotel walls gave the eerie effect of stepping
into a snowstorm, the wind whipping up thick dust clouds and making
the driver, Salim, look like an apparition across the road.
Using these same winds at this time of year, traders for centuries
sailed from the Arabian peninsula to the coast and islands of what is
now Tanzania. They plied their wares and refilled their little wooden
boats, sailing back in the spring when the wind shifted. Over time,
routes became established that supplied slaves, gold, ivory and wood
to India and Asia, and returned spices, glassware, and textiles to the
blossoming city-state of Zanzibar.
This Arab influence shaped the region-its religion, architecture,
language, and food. People here still move around in little wooden
sailing boats with downwind sails. Both K and I had a couple weeks off,
so we left Moshi with a vague plan to explore the coast and islands,
to see where the trade winds brought us.
A long, hot bus ride brought us through the coastal plain to the port
town of Tanga, and a smaller bus took us further south. A tiny baby
was quickly deposited on K's lap for the trip. The little creature held tightly onto my
finger the whole way. A man in front of us was inebriated, much to the disgust of
other passengers in this
Muslim region. Soon the drunk was deposited in a village, the baby
was reclaimed, and we were dropped by the roadside, a short walk from
the funky seaside resort called Peponi, where we pitched our tent on
the beach for a few days. We swam and ate delicious fish masala and
sailed in their wooden dhow out to beautiful islets to snorkel. I met
some folks in the village and checked out their outrigger canoes and
handsome woven fish traps.
We booked passage on a cargo ship for the five hour journey to Pemba,
the forgotten half of the Zanzibar archipelago. A very Islamic, very
conservative island, it sees very few tourists, despite its stunning
beaches and fantastic coral reef.
On our first night in Pemba we watched from the roof of the guesthouse
as thousands of "flying foxes", huge fruit bats endemic to the island,
came out to feed.
We journeyed to the north to explore a fabled beach and dive with
Swahili Divers. We camped nearby in a stunning cove called Verani, an attempt at a
resort that was apparently abandoned to a group of teenage boys. The toilets and
showers didn't work, but the boys caught and cooked delicious white
snapper with coconut rice. The sunset was sublime, there were
fireflies on the beach and the night sky was beyond description.
Returning south through fragrant forests that once supplied 90% of the
world's cloves, we discovered that the ferry to Zanzibar was a no-show.
Our extra day in the little port of Mkoani turned out to be a
nice bonus. We found a friendly boat captain, Said, to deliver us to the
deserted island of Kwata. If you saw his boat on a beach in the US,
you might call it a shipwreck. But it proved to be skookum, and when
he returned for us in the evening he came in his wooden sailing boat
similiar to a dhow, known as a mashua. He let me have the tiller and
we coasted down a stretch of island, listening to the birds in the
palm trees and watching the sun go down on the water.
The ferry that did arrive was a fancy high-speed catamaran with A/C
and reclining seats, but still a crazy crush of people and chickens.
Before boarding we sampled some great street food- sugar cane juice,
grilled squid, dried clams on a stick. I was sorry to leave Pemba...

Born Free

We came down off the mountain a filthy, happy mess and reunited with
K. at the hotel. I then spent 20 minutes on the phone, ordering pizza from
a restaurant in town. They have a bunch of elaborate ones and the guy
was explaining them in detail and offering suggestions. I chose two
of each in a wide variety. We gathered shillings, and found a driver and car to make the
trip. The ten pizzas that arrived all were exactly the same-with only green
peppers and super-hot jalapenos. You really have to adjust your idea
of customer service in Tanzania. Luckily the novelty of pizza was
enough to make everyone happy.
In the morning we left on safari with six of the clients, the
Arrowsmith clan from New Mexico. K and I rode in one vehicle Sam, a hilarious teacher in his early twenties. His dad John joined us later in the trip. John brother Jim, his wife Grace and friends Robert and Chris were in th other vehicle. They, along with the rest of the 12 had been great clients on the mountain, so I was happy to be on safari with them. K. was finished with her teaching position in Moshi and really excited also. With binoculars, cameras, silly hats, and guide books we were off.
I'm sure I will always count those five days of safari among the best
ever. We had a nice rig- a classic safari Land Cruiser with a pop-up
top, a fantastic guide, and some great accomodations. But all that
mattered in the end was that chance to spend five days roaming the
Serengeti, the Ngorongoro crater, and Lake Manyara.
Shafino grew up in the little town where we stayed by the crater. The
animals and birds a part of his entire life. He father ran the only
auto shop around and once showed him a fender that had been twisted by
the jaws of a hyena. I knew he'd be great when we stepped into his
rig and saw the nice maps and a well loved copy of "Birds of Kenya and
Northern Tanzania" on the dash (plus a cooler for a small beer stash
in back). We grabbed that book all the time and in the end Id'd 85
bird species, plus 30 mammals and three reptiles. He has amazing
vision and ability to differentiate animals at a great distance. But
more than just spotting creatures and checking them off the list he
was able to show us how the system worked as a whole- how different
cats hunt- and how their prey stays alive. How wildebeest and zebras
work together, one with a good nose, the other with good eyes. How the
male silvery-cheeked hornbill encases his mate in a mud covered hole
in a tree so she can roost safely, then feeds her figs through a small
opening.
We stayed at a couple very nice hotels- one really nice where we sipped the
rare Guiness under warthog sconces, surrounded by flowers and birds.
But my favorite spot was the tent camp by the Ikoma gate in the
Serengeti. The walls zipped open so from bed we could see an
incredible night sky and beautiful sunrises. I woke up early and
walked down the road to see the thousands of wildebeest gathered in
the front yard. We were lucky enough to catch the beginning of their
annual migration south, one of the world's great ones. They move by
smelling rain and seeing lightning, working their way to the south for
the monsoon season. I tried to slip away from camp unnoticed ,
but the management sent a Maasai guide to track me down.
They don't want to chance having a guest eaten by a lion. We took photos of each other and had
fun scattering hundreds of wildebeest in every direction. On the way
back he showed me where elephants had eaten the acacia trees.
Later that day we were able to go on foot to see hippos mating ( the
female is really good at holding her breath), while an enormous
crocodile ( the "aquatic killing machine") sunned itself nearby. We
watched a lioness stalk gazelle (unsuccessfully), but later saw a
whole pride tearing into a Cape buffalo they had taken down together.
We saw a leopard in tree feasting on a gazelle, and watched the
beautiful cheetah cruise the plains. Most predators have to rely on
surprise, but the cheetah can chase down anything in a short distance.
In the crater we saw ai interesting scene play out. Thousands and
thousands of flamingoes had gathered at the salt lake, feeding on blue-
green algae. This was an impressive sight my itself, but the we
noticed three jackals trying to be nonchalant as they cruised the
shore, waiting to pick off a bird from the edge of the flock. Nearby,
six hyenas were pretending to be sleeping, but fooling no one. Strong
but slow, they wait for a jackal to make a kill, then steal his lunch.
Beside the flamingoes and horbills we saw so many amazing birds: big
ones liber ibis, pelicans, storks, the elegant grey-crowned crane, the
secretary bird, and the Kory Bustard in its outrageous mating
display. Also little, beautiful birds like sunbirds, bee-eaters,
weavers, and the stunning lilac breasted roller. Some pick ticks off
impalas, some feast on termite larvae, others grab insects stirred up
by passing cars.
We watched the tiny dik-dik, an antelope the size of a big rabbit, and
spotted two of the 600 enormous black rhinos left on earth.

Kilimanjaro pt. 2

We thought an ascent of Kilimanjaro that coincided with the full harvest moon would be a good idea. That is, the clients who booked the trip thought so. So did 323 other clients who checked into Machame gate the same day. When you add porters and guides, it means about 1200 people on one trail on the same schedule. That's just one route, on one day! So, we had some bottle-necks on the trail and the campsites looked more like Bonnaroo than bush. But, it was worth the minor hassles to stand on the crater rim as the equinoctal sun broke on a clear view of the African savannah 17000 ft below. Our route was Machame again, which we like for its gradual ascent which aids acclimatization, and also its fantastic beauty. One of the best parts of climbing to altitude on the equator is the chance to go through a bunch of different climate zones on one short trip. On machame we spend the first and last days in the dank cloud forest, a lush contrast to the alpine zones. Here there are huge camphorwood trees dripping with moss and bromeliads and lichen. The forest floor is covered in giant ferns and many different flowers, including the beautiful endemic impatiens kilimanjari. Sykes monkeys and hornbills can be seen and heard cruising about the canopy. A little bit higher, around the Machame camp, you start to see giant heather trees covered in old man's beard lichen, just like we have in Alaska. Then you break out above the clouds and the heather shrinks and things start to look like the English moors. This gives way to a sub-alpine dominated by the groundsel trees and lobelia and the dessicated Helicrysum flowers. The area reminds me a lot of the southern Californian desert. Higher still only some lichens and yellow "everlasting" flowers survive. The top of the crater is stark volcanic country: a mix of rock, ash, and ice. Our clients were tough and fit and pushed on despite a variety of ailments- respiratory infections, blurred vision, numb extremities, and a host of GI problems, including two bouts of unannounced diarrhea that left one client cursing the wicking properties of synthetic underwear. It all seemed to come to a head at Barranco camp, our beautiful day three home. On this day we climb to 15000 ft. by lunch, but then drop back down to 13000 to sleep. This helps the body adjust, but often leaves people feeling pretty crappy. We shuffled into camp and found the spot the porters had carved out amongst 1000 of our closest friends. Our group was in pretty rough shape, and antibiotics were being swapped and popped like penny candy. I went next door to check on an Israeli guy from a friend's group who'd shown some signs of altitude sickness that morning. He was doing better, but a South African guy nearby asked for help with his finger. It was pointing the wrong way. There is a disturbing lack on medical training and equipment on the mountain, so my newly minted EMT certification was the best thing going. That night I woke up and marveled at the near silence. Moments later, from across camp came the sounds of the most horrendous wretching I've heard since college. The place was taking on the air of a refugee camp. The frosty morning brought renewed strength, however, and our group charged up the Barranco wall en route to Karanga camp. From there, the porters left a night earlier to stake out a spot at high camp. The porters are complete badasses and a joy to work with. They carry heavy loads and never stop smiling. Granted they are higher than a dozen gypsies in a trapeeze act, but still. We left in two groups for the summit, one at midnight and some speed demons at 1 AM. Both groups did a lot of passing and by 5 AM everyone was in a pretty good position to summit. Even though we we're spread out I got to celebrate with all 12 clients at the crater rim or on the summit. All12 summited and there were many hugs, tears, laughs and photos. The sun lit up the crater and began to warm our toes and we began our 14000 ft. descent to cold beer and warm showers.