When the elephants come marching in...

The view from the kitchen table

Apple crumble a la Moremi

How on earth do you make apply crumble without an oven???

Why in a pot with hot coals under it, and hot coals on top of it next to the fire, for an hour of course.

Voila! Perfect apple crumble if I do say so myself..... just missing Mums home made vanilla ice-cream

The inner hidden domestic diva is rearing it's ugly head in the bush! Mum I've done you proud.

Saturday morning in Moremi

As all saturdays go, even in Moremi there is basic admin that needs to be done. Big breakfast, exercise, and laundry. Here we have our laundry done for us by our camp hand. But ladies under garments don't get done, it's part of their culture. Frankly I am ok with this, I prefer to wash my own gitch.



So as a typical saturday would go, we woke to have eggs, then I did my hour of exercise, which I have now managed to get down to an art. I skip for 30 minutes, then Graham has helped me build a bar bell/dumbbell out of a large steel bar, with two bent metal hooks held on by plastic ties, and duck tape. These hook nicely onto the handles of two 5ltr jugs of water of which I have filled with both sand and water to add weight. I do arm curls, squats, dead lifts, chest press on my exercise ball that I had brought in from South Africa, just to name a few of the things I have managed to accomplish with so little. Come on? those who know me know I couldn't not exercise! And of course abs are easy to do anywhere.






























Then I had to wash my gitch, Graham thought this would be interesting to film. And since he thought it was interesting you may as well....???????? thinking not. But what the hey. (the exercise done previously explains the outfit, one can still look cute at the gym in the bush)

You will see Lagai, our camp hand. And the tub of hot water we use to shower, wash up, dishes etc.

Happy Birthday Ari!

I know it's a day late, we were in Maun. But I had a drink for you and pretended I was on the top of the park hyatt with you.
Much love
me

Ready Set Action!

There's a hippo in my bathtub...I mean Kitchen! WHAT?

So there we were sitting in the office, It's about 8pm. I was working away, Brad was chatting to Graham when I hear this grass being munched outside. I grab the torch and step outside. There; right along side the electric fence was a BIG HIPPO. A huge beautiful hippo. Completely chilled munching on the grass. I can't imagine ever coming closer to a hippo. We all sat in awe watching for a bit, then returned to our tasks at hand. What? We live deep in the african bush. Game tend to live here with is, more so we live here with them.

So back in the office there is a conversation that goes something like this; starting with me saying to Graham:

"That hippo was pretty close to the fence hey, you don't suppose she would come through it?"

Graham: "Ya it's fine, it's highly unlikely that she will come near the fence, she will steer clear"

Penny: "really? she was very close, in fact rubbing against it"

Graham: "It's fine, relax"

And so it was. Not 5 min later I hear this same rustling, I get up with torch in hand again to look. And low and behold there she was; in our kitchen.

Penny: "Graham, there is a hippo in the kitchen!

To which Graham promptly steps out of the office.

Graham: "Where?" pointing his torch out away from camp into the open field

Penny: "In the kitchen Graham"

Graham, again pointing his torch away from camp

Graham "what? where"

To which I pointed my torch into the kitchen.

Penny: "IN THE KITCHEN!"

Graham: "Oh hey would you look at that"

So yes this is a gloat, as a Canadian living in the African bush there is rarely the opportunity to be right, and as Graham would say I somewhat exaggerate the proximity of the animals to me/us/the vehicle/the tent.

There was indeed a hippo in camp last night. A big female hippo. She had decided to walk through the fence and make her way in looking for grass. I will admit she was sweet. She seemed completely and utterly unaware that we were all standing there shining lights at her. She just went about her business eating grass unbothered by our presence. Quickly realizing that there really wasn't much to chomp on in camp she made her way out the other end and very gently walked over the fence.

Because it was evening we were unable to take pics.

As you've read in past posts, elephants often make their way through camp and it is always a humbling experience as we go about our business living in their home. Last night was another incredible moment and reminder of just how small we are here in Moremi. Living amongst the animals in harmony (without becoming one).

Usually it's the adaption of animals to humans. Here it is the adaption of humans to the animals (at least for me) And frankly I would rather live among the wild animals then some of the weird humans I've come across in the city. Personally speaking, I feel any game in the african bush that could be watching me or about to mess with my stuff is not so much a worry as the human one that one is all too likely to encounter in the city. (reference the moment I left the bush to the city I was robbed) It's not that there aren't plenty of healthy and wonderful people in the cities -- and these few may determine our survival as a species. However, a neglected aspect of survival is pristine nature and living the outdoors life. With hippos, elephants, lions.........

Whilst re-telling this story today I was reminded of a childhood song by a famous Canadian artist Anne Murrey, it's been in my head all day and it goes something like this:

"Hey Momma there's a dragon in the driveway, Daddy there's a lion on the lawn... and you better come quick because there's a hippo in the bathtub, and he's going down the drain oh no he's gone!"

Proud big sister pep talk duty - Jacqueline's Ride to Conquer Cancer

This weekend my little sister will ride 200km in an effort to raise money for cancer (CLICK ON THIS TO SPONSOR HER) I couldn't be more proud of her. As I sit here and think of her and what I would say to her as words of wisdom and encouragement it forced me to also reflect on my own journey and some of the experiences I have had leading to now. I went back to my notes about the tour for kids, and ironman. We do these things, I did these things and in the moment and at the time the experience and the journey through them was many things most of all growth and learning in my own personal being. As these events pass we/I tend to let it do just that, sit in the past. But it mustn't. We/I must remember those experiences, those accomplishments, the tears the pain and the joy, the personal growth and learning that came with it. The friends and the support of them and family. I realized that all those experiences have somehow led me to where I am today. To right here, to right now. They gave me the strength and confidence to do the next thing, and the next thing gave me the experience and the strength and the confidence to bring on the next big challenge. We/I mustn't forget the journey.

The last time I saw my father was at Ironman, and reading my post race account was emotional, remembering him cheering me on, and as I mentioned in his own tough fashion by shouting "hurry up and get those shoes on... RUN!". And it made me smile. My father and Donna at the finnish line, standing smiling and proud couldn't be a better last memory.

Ironically my good friend Karen sent a note yesterday reminding me of my fathers words of wisdom that I had once shared with her. That it's not about the race to the finish line. It's about the journey. And to live true journey. And she gave me (and my father) the biggest compliment. The passing on of my fathers wisdom to Karen and she told me she has never forgoten it. My father was able to touch others through me. And now I hope to pass this on to Jacqueline. My little sister (sorry Jacks I know you hate it when I call you that)

Jacqueline, I look forward to reading your account of this journey and life experience because as you know I believe in documenting life. And remember that what we believe we bring into being; by focusing on abundance rather than lack, what we need and want rather than life deficiencies. I believe there is an incredible power in the moment we call now. So now little one put down that tequila and ride on!!!!!!!! (unless of course this helps you then put some in your water bottles.)

Dear Jacqueline;

I can imagine how you might be feeling today. Excited, nervous, anxious, praying that the weather holds, to the tire gods for no flats. I know how you are feeling. What you are about to accomplish is amazing. A selfless adventure. Pushing your mental and physical limits to help others. You have sacrificed time with friends and family, time with Jason, precious sleep and your own precious time. The best advice I can give you was given to me by my father before ironman.

When you are out there, with the sun on your back and your adrenaline rushing with anticipation, nervousness and excitement. When your legs hurt and your mind is arguing with you to stop, or keep going. Remember the journey. Remember all you did to get to where you are. Remember how far you have come. Remind yourself that you are about to accomplish a personal best in the quest to help others. Remember the friends, the laughter and even the tears you've had along the way. Remember the first time you got on that bike and had to learn how to ride with clip pedals. Remember the fall you took and getting back on the bike. Remember the journey as you have lived it. It does not matter how or when or if you cross the finish line. All that matters is you live and lived true journey that is what you will remember. Remember that you are doing this because you can.

I will also pass on a note that my good friend Madelyn sent to me when I was feeling run down with training. I have kept his with me since then.

Anchor the following attitude deep within your heart: "I can achieve anything I set my mind to, no matter how much hard work it takes,no matter how difficult it is, no matter how long it takes. I can and will achieve it" Realize that difficulties are opportunities from which you can learn new insights that will strengthen your resolve and increase your knowledge.

I am so proud of you little one. You were there for me at the end of the tour for kids when I was in tears of joy and pain, you were there with hugs and pictures and kind words. I am sorry I can't be there for you. But know that as you sit in that saddle on my bike, the same bike that carried me that distance and carried my own sweat and tears that I am there with you in spirit, that I will be thinking about you all weekend and knowing that you will be awesome!

May the wind be at your back and the sun shine on your face.

I miss you much little one.....

Penny

PS HELP HER REACH HER GOAL! CLICK ON THE LINK TO THE RIGHT or HERE AND SPONSOR MY SISTER IN HER RIDE TO CONQUER CANCER!

Remembering

This post is inspired by Donna. I got an email from her suggesting that I write a book. She thinks I might have all the right elements that Canadian publishers would want. Canadian perspective, horrific loss, a path to finding balance in a foreign land, great adventures, wild animals, beautiful pictures and amazing insights.

It was the horrific loss part that stopped me. When I saw this is was like some kind of reminder to the depths of the pain I am dealing with. I think one tends to downplay their pain. To be tough. To not burden others. In the process of doing this I think one could easily bury those raw emotions and not properly deal with them. It’s something I am very guilty of. I can compare it to the many sport injuries I have had over the years. I would run through pain as if it wasn’t there. I have a high threshold for pain. I always have. Both physically and emotionally. Suck it up buttercup attitude. Take it, deal with it and move on. Pick yourself back up and keep on playing the game. And play to win. When I saw the words horrific loss, I thought yes I have suffered a horrific loss. And I now know what profound loss feels like. I forget this because I try to be tough. Ironically I have my father to blame for that. He once came to a soccer game and when I rolled my ankle and went down in pain, it was he who shouted from the sidelines “suck it up, get up girl, get back in the game!”

But this skill that I have carried into real life has probably left some if not many injuries not properly healed. And I am here in a foreign land, in one of the most pristine and beautiful places on earth to heal. And part of that will be remembering what I have lost and how that felt and how it feels. Like your soul gently being jolted from your body. And for me part of that healing is writing and sharing and not just about the sunsets and animals, I did have a friend tell me to write more about how I am feeling. And those who read this, my dearest family and friends know that though I am known as “hard to get to know” when I write it is usually in the rawest form. These are the people I feel this unspoken connection to, even though there's not even a word for it. These are the people who I've known forever, who know me in this way that other people can't, because they've seen me change...they've let me change.

There are times when I look up and thank whomever for the time I had and the relationship I had with my father, which most girls could only dream of, this I realize and am grateful. I could tell my father absolutely anything. And I did. And there are times when I look up to whomever one choses to label the great systems of balance and order and I ask, bare none, I beg, for just one more day with him.

In this process of trying to find balance and heal, in this environment where I feel the wind, rain and sunshine as if it were the first time everyday. As if it is my father touching me. After all doesn’t life and death walk hand in hand?

To not think of death daily is like not thinking about life daily which most of us are to busy to do. I know more than ever now that this journey called life is short. Whether a life is 83 years or less, compared to recorded history or eternity it is short. Life must be lived with purpose or it is wasted. It is often said that the dead get put on a pedestal. That in the immense loss, you then tend to idolize them. I try not to do this. My father had his warts and a traditional father he was not, this I am aware of. But he did the best he could with me and not once did I ever doubt his love for me, and really in the end that is all that matters. He touched my life in both positive and negative ways. His soul still touches me with these memories because I trust that memories are soul. I have come to really understand and believe that what we take from this world is based on what we leave in it.

I feel lonely and sad when I think of my father leaving me. The entire process of healing is a learning in itself. People feel strange asking you about it, as if it holds a mirror to where they must face their own mortality and so what I’ve found is most don’t ask. I also feel guilty sometimes. Donna lost a husband and best friend, my brother also lost his father, my grandparents lost a son, my aunt and uncle a brother. Many lost a friend. We are all feeling loss and we all lost someone close. But what I have to remember is that this way of dealing is mine. This is my loss and it is such an individual and personal thing. Each with their own way

In hindsight there were many things that leads me to think my father was completely aware of his own mortality. There were things said to me that he had never said before, and Marissa and I often joked about our fathers getting “mushy” in their old age. He organized things weeks before that he had never organized before. In a recent conversation with him I had mentioned maybe moving to Collingwood, to be closer to him. His response was, that would be lovely one day, but not before you send me pictures from the depths of Africa. Yes he said that. I called him and left him a message the day he died, likely around the same moment. The day he was found,I was completely out of sorts that morning. Had left things at home, and had to go back. Twice. I think we know. Those close, know.

When Kath was here in Moremi last may she had done a photo journal that she had sent out. I had forwarded it to my father in awe and admiration of such a beautiful place and experience. He said, “this is too cool! why don’t you get her to get you in touch with this guy (Graham) and go spend some time there too, this is how you want to experience Africa!” yes he said that I kid you not. Even again a couple of times later when I spoke of potential vacation options. He knew I didn’t want to go to Africa on a typical safari vacation, he knew I wanted to really experience it. I kid you not, he remembered that photo journal, and Moremi several times after that. So when Katherine called me with this opportunity, when I hung up the phone I cried. I cried hard and for a long time. I looked up (as I often do now)and asked my father if this was him. It must be him. This is him telling me that everything is going to be ok. And if there was one thing my father would have done for me, it would have been to help me fulfill my dream of Africa. And who else but one of my best friends to deliver the opportunity. And if that wasn’t enough, once arrived I learnt that Graham too had lost his father, as did Andy. And ironically Andy on the same day of the month as my father. I am in empathetic company.

I am here to heal as well and I must remember this. It is not just on the 18th of every month when I feel deeply sad, this is a daily journey, through Africa, and through the depths of my soul and the soul of my father as I live it. It is the most incredible experience of my life during the most difficult time. So as I look through the lens of my fathers camera and see the beauty before me, I remember things about my father that make me laugh. And how he would sing monty pythons “always look on the bright side of life” as we sailed (albeit poorly) on wednesday nights regatta's in toronto. And I know he would be proud. Probably too proud, to the point of telling all his friends I was a photographer for National Geographic and living just on bread in the bush.... largely exaggerated as he often was, he is proud.

The guts of the glory

The outdoor "organic" lifestyle. With it's glories comes it's challenges.

I was a girl fed up with big city life and a deep desire of living an outdoor rugged life. Better a dream of going to Africa. A girl who went from a temperature of -30 C to +30 C in 30 hours and arrived in the deep african bush, ready for the guts and glory of it all. I arrived in the rainy season if you remember, I was fresh, excited, ready to take it all in. I don't think nor do I remember it fazing me at all. Any discomfort I may have felt was obviously overshadowed by my ambitious determination to embrace all that the bush was. And it was warm then. It was a lovely and beautiful warm african rain. Sigh. As I understood it the rainy season was short. And come winter it never rained. Perhaps this also helped alleviate any of the discomfort I may have felt. It would be over soon and then it wouldn't rain again for another year. Glorious.

It's June. It's raining. It's not supposed to rain here in june. I've been told this is "highly unusual". And so I go with it. Waking this morning saying "how odd is this weather" as if I would know, but I go with what I am told. It's raining hard and has been for two days. Straight. It's no longer a warm wonderful African rain. It's cold and wet and everything is damp. I don't remember the rainy season feeling this way. The guts of the glory now rearing it's ugly head. With this wonderful outdoor natural life I am "embracing" comes some challenges. With this torrential down pour (I exaggerate not) come some rather obscure challenges. While yes, simply stay inside, in your tent or in your office. But with this "outdoor" life comes an outdoor bathroom. And the rain is outdoors.I try to wait for the rain to subside a bit before I make my attempt. But the rain is relentless and my bladder seems to get smaller and smaller as I listen to the water running over the top of the office roof. I have no choice but to make a go of it.

The only way to do this is to attempt to go to the loo,with my loo roll and umbrella in hand. I can't put the loo roll down, it will get wet. I need to hold it, and the umbrella and perch myself on the throne. I can't help but laugh at myself and how hilarious this must look. The view still magnificent. I wonder what blooms this rain will bring to any lost seeds that still lay in the previously dry ground and take comfort in the forecast of sunshine from tomorrow onwards.

The great flood

This post is a little out of order. It’s a long one to explain so I’ve had to take more time to write it. On our second day back from leave we took a boat cruise up one of the major channels in the Delta (the Muanachira {mona-chira}) to see what the flood and water levels were doing. (Any of my old work mates reading this will laugh and know how I feel about boat cruises, and the idea of me being confined to a small space with nowhere to go but jump overboard. And here it wouldn’t be the pollution that would kill me, it would be the crocodiles) Anyway, one of the main topics of conversation (besides cars) among the locals when we are in Maun is the water. How’s the water in Moremi? What is the flood doing? Huge flood coming.. There are charts showing the flood levels posted in most locations, behind bars etc. These are referenced when the conversation about the water is raised.



I am sure you are all wondering what water is doing in the Kalahari desert? My thoughts as well before I arrived and thus learnt about the water in the Okavango Delta, in fact the delta is a complex web of waterways and islands that form one of the most beautiful and pristine wildlife areas left in Africa and lies within one of the largest continuous stretches of sand in the world, the Kalahari desert basin. The water of the Okavango literally floats on a saturated sea of sand.

Disclaimer: Graham helped me write this.

The Okavango is the largest inland delta on Earth. It is nestled in the center of the Kalahari sand basin and is a vast oasis in this arid semi-desert.

There are a network of permanent rivers winding through the Okavango delta throughout the year but the overall water level of the region depends on the flood waters that descend from thousands of kilometers to the North-west in the Angolan highlands and the rainfall that falls in the delta it’s self.

North of Botswana, the river is a traditional African river but as soon as it hits the Kalahari sand at Mohembo, in Northern Botswana, the water is no longer confined by rocky banks and it begins to spread out. Here the swamp is confined to a 10km corridor by two parallel fault lines known as the panhandle. The river winds and meanders through floating papyrus and reed banks. This area is only navigable by boat and traditional dugout canoes called mekoro.

At Seronga, the base of the panhandle and start of the delta proper, the water breaks the bounds of the faults and splays across the sands. Rivers, channels, flood-plains and lagoons form around islands ranging in size from a few meters in diameter to several kilometers. When viewed from satellite images, the delta resembles a hand, The fan (or delta as it is more commonly called), resembles the shape of a hand. The palm is a permanent delta of constant water, and the fingertips are seasonally flooded swamps and lush floodplains.

The flood gradually makes it’s way down from the North in two main thrusts, spreading out over the land in different directions every year; much like water spilt on a flat table. The delta changes from year to year depending on flood levels and rains and the flood constantly forges new channels which prevents the delta becoming silted up. This dynamic nature leads to great diversity of water depth, soils, vegetation and animal distribution and thus change is the essence of the Okavango Delta. In January the start of the main flood begins, spreading down the top of the panhandle and into the main part of the Delta itself at around April each year. It is from this point on that high flood reaches the lodges and water activities become the primary activity in most camps and the hot topic of conversation among the locals; high flood reaches the bottom of the Delta near Maun in June.

Maun is a safari town on the southern edge of the delta and lies on the Thamalakane river which is the main out flow of the delta. The floodwater trickles slowly down the length of the delta and eventually reaches Maun several months later. In over 250 kilometers from the base of the panhandle to Maun there is only a 40 meter drop in altitude.

The highest point of the flood throughout the majority of the delta varies but over the last five years it has consistently been at around May each year. The water level then stays high for a couple of months and then gradually recedes, drying out the flood-plains as the water evaporates; most of the Delta dries by around late October and November each year.


And so this my friends and family is why and how there is water in the Kalahari.

Being one who loves the water and loves to swim, and one who is so used to being able to dive right into any fresh water I see on any hot day, here it’s a tease. On these and those hot summer afternoons as we meander past Jesse’s pools and all I want to do is dive in to cool off, I can’t. If the hippos don’t get me the crocodiles will. So I look on longingly at the beautiful water, and wish I were one of the lilly pads floating lazily in the cool crisp water.

Maun

I have been promising photos of Maun for some time. I finally had a chance this weekend to take some of more of the real local life. As well of the buffalo fence I've spoken of in past's posts. I've also included a photo of one of the many hair cut shops available to me. This is why my hair is growing so......

Lions munch on lechwe while vultures wait

This morning not far from where we witnessed the stunning moonset and sunrise the lions were munching on a lechew they had managed to catch in the early morning hours. When this happens the vultures are never far away waiting for their chance to scavenge what they can. The cubs like to chase them away.

Sunrise and Strawberry moonset

In transposition the morning sky in perfect reflection left me equally in awe this morning. I think for the first time I witnessed not only the moonset, but in sync with the sunrise. Again a beautiful morning where the photos say it all.

Strawberry moon at sunset

Just back in camp after a quick afternoon/evening joll with our furry Moremi friends.

It was an incredibly beautiful evening. The flat landscape made for the most magnificent view of both the sunrise and the full moon in sync. To add to the absolute beauty of it all a herd of giraffe decided to meander between the two. I felt like I was watching the french open. My head turning back and forth between the two trying to capture the image of both.

Full Moon names date back to to the Natives (my Metis ancestors). The tribes kept track of the seasons by giving distinctive names to each recurring full Moon. Their names were applied to the entire month in which each occurred. There was some variation in the Moon names, but in general, the same ones were current throughout the Algonquin tribes. European settlers followed that custom and created some of their own names. Since the lunar month is only 29 days long on the average, the full Moon dates shift from year to year.

The Full Strawberry Moon - June This name was universal to every Algonquin tribe. However, in Europe they called it the Rose Moon. Also because the relatively short season for harvesting strawberries comes each year during the month of June . . . so the full Moon that occurs during that month was christened for the strawberry!

Words can't say it as well as the photos can.