not getting eaten by crocodiles

"Do you want to go on a six hour hike?" I asked Mark. No answer. Apparently Julia and I are the only ones who want to entertain such ideas at 7:45AM on a Sunday morning, so it was just the two of us setting off for adventure in Okapuka.



Okapuka is a magical place located about forty kilometres north of Windhoek. When you pull in from the highway, you pass families of warthogs and ostriches and springbok all grazing peacefully side by side. There is a nice restaurant with beautiful scenery, a swimming pool, and opportunities to go on game drives...but what Julia and I wanted to do was the six-hour hike.

The owner was skeptical. Even though Julia and I are both experienced hikers, by appearance we just looked like two petite tourist women, and I was as usual completely inappropriately dressed for hiking in my bikini top, jeans, sunglasses and wool hat.


I swear, it works for me.


Oh yeah, it was also noon, because for some reason, Julia and I like hiking in the hottest part of the day.

"Are you sure you want to do the long hike?" he asked.

"Yes, it looks pretty," we said cheerfully. "How long is it?"

He was a big friendly Afrikaner man with big eyes, a big nose, and a big beard, kind of a living personification of Captain Haddock from Tintin. He scratched his neck and squinted into the sun. "Maybe thirty, thirty-five kilometres?"

Somehow I doubted that. It was being advertised as a six hour hike. The last six-hour hike we had done was twenty kilometres, and we moved at a constant pace. I could tell he was just trying to scare us off.

His next words did succeed in alarming me, however. "When you reach the end of the route, be careful around the crocodile dam."

"The crocodile dam?" I had seen warning signs in the lodge about the crocodile dam. Mainly, that visitors should stay away.

"Yes, try not to get too close to them," the owner replied.

"Does the hiking trail go near the crocodile dam?" I asked.

"It goes through it," he answered.

"Through the crocodile dam?"

"Usually they are not on that side of the pond, but these days they have been wandering. Well, you girls have fun! Drink lots of water!" And then he drove away in his truck, leaving us on the path.

Five minutes earlier, Julia and I had had the following conversation.

Julia: "Did you know that crocodiles can run really fast?"
Me: "On land?"
Julia: "Yeah, they're like one of the fastest animals."
Me: "Oh, crap."

Oh crap.

The hiking trail was a beautiful one, nevertheless, even though it was oddly designed to thrust hikers straight into a pit of crocodiles at the end of a gruelling hike. It was a bit unnerving to keep the thought of crocodiles at the back of my head but I still managed to enjoy myself. The hike took a lot of endurance, especially in the heat. Like the Hakos mountain range, it was not a simple climb up a single mountain, but up and down and up and down a series of mountains.








Like most of our hikes, we were the only hikers on the path and there was not a soul around for miles.

We managed to do the trail in much less time, under five hours. As we approached the lodge ahead of us though, we still had one challenge left: the crocodile dam.


yeah, that's the hiking trail leading right up to the crocodile dam.


Or so I thought. A sudden movement in the bushes caught my attention and made me realize that we'd have to deal with a different obstacle first: baboons.

Blog readers know that I hate baboons. Seriously, I really hate baboons. I'm looking forward to going back to Canada where the only scary animals I might run into while hiking are bears and wolves, which, although scary and dangerous, do not have opposable thumbs that they can use to rob you, and other creepy human-like habits. But there they were, sitting right in the path, with no intention to go away and give my baboon-phobia a lot of space.



Suddenly I heard a loud yell. "Oh thank God, someone's here to chase the baboons away," I thought.

"No, that was the baboon," Julia said, reading my thoughts.

What? Baboons have human voices? Well, that was just freaky. And this one was yelling at us.

"It's a good thing you haven't watched Planet of the Apes," Julia whispered.

I was feeling really nervous about trying to nonchalantly walk past them, especially because I still had a lot of food in my backpack. Instead, I pulled out my mobile phone and called up the lodge. I told them there were baboons on the trail. What did they advise us to do? Wait? Walk?

"Ah, they should just go back to the restaurant," the Namibian staff member told me, which made me think that he didn't understand my question.

"What?"

"They should just go back."

"Look, I don't know if you mean that the baboons should go back, or if I should go back the other direction to do that five hour hike again, but neither advice makes any sense," I said.

I heard some movement on the line and then a female voice came on the phone. "You should just walk through the baboons," she told me.

"I have food in my bag though - do you think they will try to take it?" I asked.

"You can give them the food, and then they will go away."

This sounded like a stupid idea. I thought about Julia's earlier remark about how hikes in North America feel pretty safe because we're such a litigious society that park authorities go out of their way to remove any potential dangerous risks that might cause a lawsuit. Here in Africa, however, things were different. LIABILITIES EVERYWHERE.

Eventually I decided to hang up on the lodge staff and bravely walk past the baboons, sticks and stones in my hand. By that point the baboons had moved to the side of the path, although I could feel their eyes watching me at all times.



Finally we had reached safety, past the baboons....at the crocodile dam. Oh right, I had forgotten about the crocodiles.

We could still hear the baboons yelling angrily at us. "I think right around now, we can stop watching out for the baboons and start looking out for the crocodiles," Julia said. This is a line that will stay in my memory for the rest of my life.

Wonderful. "Well, I've got this stick," I said weakly, waving my little stick about.

"I think that if the crocodile is that close to you at that point..."

"I was thinking maybe I'd put it in his mouth and then run away...Kind of like that scene from Peter Pan, with Captain Hook."

But the movie that I was actually thinking about was the penultimate scene from Adaptation. I shuddered. I decided that I was not a fan of close encounters with wildlife unless I was in a car.

"What does that sign say?"



It was not a very good sign. I could tell it was trying to warn me about something,but I couldn't read anything except "LIONS AND CROCODILES ON PREMISES." Oh right. I forgot that there was a lion feeding tour here too.

"I think the best case scenario here is if the crocodile ate the baboon, and then the lion goes after the crocodile," I whispered. "Then we run past."

"I'm sure there are better scenarios," Julia replied.

Even though we had just finished a five hour hike, we walked pretty darn quickly past the crocodile dam.

By the time we reached the other side, we heard the roar of a truck. Approaching us was the owner, bringing a truckful of tourists around on a wild game drive. I eyed them with disdain. Bunch of weaklings, doing the route in a car. I had just finished wrestling baboons and crocodiles and lions with my bare hands - in my macho mind, at least.

The owner bowed to us. "My compliments to you, ladies," he said, impressed that we had done the whole hike.

I smiled and waved, hiding all of the fear that had been swelling inside me for the last twenty minutes. "It was easy," I said, shrugging casually. "Piece of cake."

I tell you this: nothing has ever tasted as good as my cocktail that awaited me at the lodge bar at the end of my hike.

Living on the edge in Victoria Falls

Allison got robbed by a baboon yesterday at Victoria Falls.

It seems like it’s almost a rite of passage for everyone who lives in Africa to get robbed at some point. Joseph was taken down quite violently in Johannesburg but nothing was taken from him. I barely noticed the guy that took two bucks from me. Allison was deprived of her chocolate bar by a baboon, who was, quite frankly, kind of a jerk.



We had been hiking all over the Zambia side of Victoria Falls, exploring the various trails and admiring the impressive views it had to offer at various different vantage points. Victoria Falls is not the largest waterfall in the world, nor is it the strongest, or anything like that. And yet it’s still world famous for being an awesome site. David Livingstone described it as consisting of “scenes so lovely must have been gazed upon by angels in their flight.” The locals call it Smoke That Thunders. I’ve been to Niagara Falls many times, so it was pretty exciting to discover a new world famous site.







We first hiked down to the Boiling Pot, which is a bend in the canyon with crazy rapids that Joseph had gone down in a white water raft the day before (he only fell out once). The sign to the trail claimed it was only a 650 metre trail, which we thought would be nothing, but then we realized it was all stairs.






Almost looks like a scene from Jurassic Park. I was waiting for an angry T Rex to jump out

Boiling Pot



Still, it was worth the cardio exercise. After we finished admiring the view, we headed back on the same trail only to be confronted by about a dozen baboons, hanging out on the steps.







What the.

After my last encounrter with baboons at Daan Viljoen, I have developed what some may refer to as an irrational fear of baboons. I don’t consider it to be irrational. Baboons are jerks. Sometimes, they are face-ripping jerks.




Dude, that’s a scary baboon.

Luckily, these ones were used to tourists so they weren’t feeling threatened enough to rip anyone’s face off. Instead, they kind of just looked at us. Eventually the babies lost interest and went back to hanging out with their mothers. However, one large male baboon, clearly the alpha male of the pack which the locals call Prince, strode up to Allison, gave her one more look, and then grabbed her bag.

Allison put up a noble fight and there was a brief tug-of-war that ensued, but eventually Prince the baboon won, and Allison was forced to sit back and watched as the mischievous thief went through her bag, tossing aside all of her clothes, flipping through her Lonely Planet guidebook, and then finding the goldmine – her chocolate bar.



What a jerk.

Allison patiently watched him rip off the wrapper and eat the chocolate bar, all while staring at her in the face, daring her to do something about it. When he finished, Allison politely asked him to go away so she could collect her bag again. He refused. Allison asked him again, because she is a polite Canadian.



Allison watches baboon

Eventually some Zambian men came by and said something sternly to the baboon. The baboon shrugged, put down the bag and wandered off. I think we need to learn how to speak baboon.

That was not the craziest thing that happened to me that day, however.

This was the craziest thing I did.
(WARNING NOTE TO MOM BEFORE SHE SCROLLS DOWN: DON’T WORRY. THIS LOOKS A LOT MORE DANGEROUS THAN IT ACTUALLY WAS. IT’S ACTUALLY ONE OF THE MOST POPULAR TOURIST ATTRACTIONS HERE.)






We had a guide take us on a walk to Livingstone Island. Walking to an island may sound totally benign and unremarkable, but this island is actually right on the edge of the waterfalls, and you’re walking through the rapids to get there.




I am not making this up.

I have a fear of heights and water so this was a great exercise in staring at my fears and saying “Poo to you.” I had the chance to do that with my fear of baboons that morning, but having completely failed at saving Allison, I decided to walk to Livingstone Island instead. The trick is to hold hands so that even if you slip, you aren’t swept away because your friends will pull you back up.






That was the most intense hand holding session of my life


We are standing on the edge

And then, if that wasn’t crazy enough, we swam in the Devil’s Pool. Again, swimming in a pool sounds not so dangerous but it’s a lot more hardcore when you realize it’s right at the edge of the waterfall.




The Devil’s Pool is a natural waterhole at the edge of the water fall. You can’t see it in the photos, but right at the edge there is a ridge under the water that stops you from going over the falls. I have no idea how anybody discovered this ridge. I can’t imagine someone going around jumping into random parts of the fall to find out which parts won’t send you over and kill you. But someone evidently did.














And then we went home in a speed boat. Once I got back to the hostel, I had a hot bowl of eland stew and a cold bottle of local Mosi lager. I think that was possibly the craziest thing I’ve ever done in my life.

Daan Viljoen and the angry baboons

On Saturday morning, I got a text message from Karen, a young American former military pilot now working for American embassy, asking if I wanted to go hiking. In retrospect, going hiking in the desert at high noon seems absolutely barking mad, but at the time it sounded pretty cool.

I met up with Karen and Julia at their place and we drove out of the city toward the Daan Viljoen Game Reserve. I had only heard about this place before because someone at my office had suggested we hold our Christmas party there, and then someone else explained that this park was now a rehab centre for alcoholics and drug addicts. It was therefore extremely unclear to me whether we were driving to a hiking trail or a rehab centre, but either way I figured that it would be an adventure.



Turns out that it was a game reserve that you could hike in, but it had only been open for a week. It was a bit obviously new – all of the staff had not yet adjusted to the routine of having guests.

“Everyone in the car is over seventeen years old?” barked the park guard.

“Yes,” we said.

“Even this one?” she asked, pointing at the petite Julia.

“Yes,” we said.

“Are you sure? Even this one?”

“Yes.”

“Really?”

“Okay, now I’m just getting offended,” protested Julia, who is twenty-five.

The folks at reception looked excited to have guests and ushered us to a lady at the front desk who looked skeptical at our ability to hike the 3 km trail, let alone the 9 km trail we wanted to do.
She was showing us the map of the hiking trail. “Well, whatever you do, make sure you don’t turn left at this point,” she said. “Whatever you do, don’t go there.”

I felt a bit nervous at these instructions. “Are the trails clearly marked?” I asked.

“No, they aren’t,” she said, with the refreshing Namibian honesty that I’ve come to love.

We opted for the 9km trail anyway.



It was a lovely walk that traced the various hills and allowed for the cardio variation I love for my work out, plus a gorgeous view of the rolling hills. We saw baboons a few kilometers away, enjoying the water hole. Off in the distance you could also make out Windhoek, which was far more spread out that I’d realized.




Unfortunately it was also freaking hot. Hiking at the height of the afternoon is not the brightest idea, mainly because you’re not going to see any animals and also because, well, it’s just too hot. I tried to take a break by squatting by the hiking trail and ended up sitting in a thorn bush. I was still pulling thorns out of my butt by that night. The Namibian desertland is harsh. Everything beautiful has thorns.


trying not to think about the thorns in my butt

After an hour in, it had just gotten too hot and we decided to turn around and face the smirk of the desk lady. Unfortunately, not only was she right about our ability to do the 9km trail, but she was also right about the lack of proper trail markings. We found ourselves somewhat lost. I say somewhat because obviously we made eventually made it back safely, but it basically required the unfriendly growl of a nearby baboon to push us in the right direction and back on the main road.

"um, did you hear that?"
"hear what?"
"that growl."
"oh, i think that's a baboon."
"oh, whew."
"baboons are really vicious"
"let's not walk that way."
"okay."
[picks up rock in hand]

gloria thinks: "well, thank God, Karen is here. she was in Iraq; she can fight the baboons."
karen thinks: "hmm, i don't think i was trained for this."
julia thinks: "i'm smaller, so i can outrun both of them."
baboon thinks: "when are these ugly chatty females gonna go away so i can pick my lice in peace?"




I think we’ll probably wait a little while before we go for our next hike at Daan Viljoen, maybe give them a bit of time to set up trail markers more properly. and maybe something angry baboon-proof. Also, we probably won’t leave at noon next time.


what does this sign mean

Back at the lodge, dying of thirst, I sucked down about three freezie pops in a row. The manager came out to chat with us. He’d formerly run the Big Sky resort in Montana, and was now setting things up at Daan Viljoen. “The thing to do nowadays,” he told us, “is bring more skills to Africa. They have the manpower and the resources, they just need the training. So we are showing them how to set up these tourist lodges. I used to enjoy owning them, but now, in my old age, I prefer to have someone else own them and just put in my work. I worry less. I go on more vacations.” I felt like he was imparting a lot of important information to us, but I was too busy inhaling popsicles to give any sort of intelligent response other than slurp slurp sluuuurp. i was also thinking about the exaggerated stories that i would tell people back in Windhoek about single-handedly wrestling angry baboons.



That evening we tried, we really really tried, to go see the Joy Divine singers performing at the National Theatre of Namibia, but the choir concert sold out by the time we were out the door. Unbelievable. Nothing sells out in this city. Instead we went for drinks at NICE again, which was, of course nice, but felt an awful lot like being back at the Hilton, and a huge contrast from my previous night in the Katutura shebeens. Then a wedding reception broke out, and suddenly the inner ballroom was filled with Namibian women ululating all over the place and all sorts of folks in fancy dress busting out moves to this pop song about not wanting to get your phone number because I can just look you up on Facebook anyway. We considered, seriously considered, crashing the wedding, but figured out that having like six white folks and one “China” saunter into an all-black wedding would be a little obvious. Next time though, I might not let this logic hold me back.