AUNTIE GAIL AND THE ALMOST LETHAL LEAK

As long as we’re on the subject of Namibia, I thought that I would relate an episode that transpired during my last visit to that country in July of 2016.

My wife’s sister, who is also my second best friend, has always been an animal lover. And, she has always expressed an interest in visiting Africa to actually see the animals where they live. That dream became a reality in July of 2016.

My wife and I decided that it was high time to take Auntie Gail on safari with us. We started the initial planning about 10 months in advance. I decided that Namibia and South Africa would be the best destinations to consider. These were accessible, user-friendly countries that would be easy to manage for a neophyte and were reasonably affordable.

I studied the available flights for several days before making a decision. Flights to Africa have to be just right – with a very loose connection in Europe in both directions, The human body is not built to withstand the brutal ordeal that a tight connection in Europe would necessarily entail. We ended up flying Air France to Paris with a 12 hour layover. After a few hours of sleep at the Ibis Hotel Charles de Gaulle, we took the overnight flight to Johannesburg. On the way back, we flew KLM with an overnight in Amsterdam.

Auntie Gail arrived at our house in Santa Cruz the day before our departure. I started to think that we might be in trouble when I first caught sight of the enormous, pink suitcase she was planning to bring along. It held such indispensable items as a foot stool for the 20 hour flight over, a huge make-up mirror, and a bag of cosmetics that would impress a Hollywood make-up artist…for all the numerous formal affairs we were certain to be invited to once we were in the bush.

After a night in Johannesburg, we took a “crack of dawn” flight to Winhoek, Namibia, picked up our rental car – a nice, big, Toyota 4-wheel drive with automatic transmission – and drove 3 hours to the Okonjima Cheetah Reserve. We then proceeded to check in to an immense, luxurious African-style villa with a full, 180 degree view of the surrounding plains. The place was at least 2500 square feet, had its own private swimming pool, and a private waterhole that attracted a continuous procession of plains animals, including an African Porcupine in the evening.

After check in, we went on the afternoon game drive and encountered a large, male leopard. After the drive, we returned to our uber-comfortable digs and had a couple of glasses of South African Chardonnay.

Dinner was late by our standards – around 7:30 PM. The meal was good – even gourmet – as is common in upscale safari lodges such as this. We were having a nice conversation about the events of the day and everything seemed to be going quite well. And, then we noticed that Auntie Gail was sound asleep – still sitting bolt upright at the dinner table. Her eyes were still open. Joan continued to talk to her and Gail continued to respond – but she was still sound asleep. What were we to do now that jet lag had reared its ugly head?

We decided that it would be best not to disturb her – to just leave her in place and hope that she would remain in a vertical position. We planned to pick her up in the morning, on the way to our sunrise game drive. We were just finishing desert, and getting ready to leave. And then, Auntie Gail suddenly sprang to life – she was back. We all got up and drove the short distance to our incredible “chalet”. I’m sure that Auntie Gail slept well that night – she had already had a good head start.

In the morning, Gail decided to sleep in – the jet lag was still taking its toll. Joan and I went on the early morning game drive. We encountered another leopard, and a group of four cheetahs. Our guide suggested that we approach the cheetahs on foot. These were habituated cheetahs, and were apparently no threat to humans. We were able to walk with two of them for quite a while – we could smell them, and hear their purring – quite an experience.

After breakfast, we left for Etosha, about three hours to the north. We checked in to our chalets at the Okaukuejo Rest Camp. We were located just a short stroll from the famous Okaukuejo Waterhole. The daily Elephant Show was about to start and, sure enough, a large herd was approaching. Auntie Gail seemed to enjoy this immensely – who wouldn’t, sitting just a few yards from these huge and entertaining behemoths. And Auntie Gail seemed to be getting a second wind. She was even able to stay up to witness the nightly appearance of the Black Rhinos.

We took our first game drive the following morning. It was hard to tear ourselves away from the Okaukuejo Waterhole – always a site of wildlife activity. We came across the usual plains animals, and even saw a couple of cheetahs running along the side of the road.

Etosha is quite a large park. There are three main rest camps, each located about two hours from the next. It is forbidden to leave your vehicle outside of very specific areas located around the rest camps.

As one might expect, it is not uncommon for “nature to call” at the most inconvenient of times and there are only two public bathrooms located outside of the rest camp areas. This has never been a problem for me – I just pull to the side of the road, stand next to the car, and relieve myself. A man’s gotta do what a man’s gotta do. Unfortunately, it’s not as straight forward for females.

About 45 minutes into the drive, nature decided to pay Auntie Gail a visit – and we were nowhere near a public restroom. I was the Safari Guide – I was in charge. It was up to me to put things right. The pressure was unbelievably intense. I looked for an isolated area, far away from both man and beast. I took a side road toward a waterhole. It was almost midday, and the parking area at the waterhole was completely empty. Also – there was no action at all at the waterhole itself – just a few vultures slowly circling overhead. This was the perfect place – ideal.

Gail was reluctant at first. But, I took her to task. “Look”, I said. “I have a lot of experience with this sort of thing. This is perfectly safe. Just get out, go over behind that bush, and take a leak. What are you – some kind of a wimp?”

She got out of the car and went over to the bush. About two seconds later, a large male lion emerged from the bush – not 20 yards from us – about two quick bounds. The lion had been watching us. It took Auntie Gail a few seconds to get back into the car – more than enough time for the lion to pounce. But, we got lucky – the lion had just eaten. That was why the waterhole had been abandoned. This was a close call, and the last time on this trip that I would act like a “know-it-all”.

We spent  our third night in Etosha at the Halali Rest Camp located in the center of the park. Halali has an incredible waterhole that you just walk up to. There is a seating area where a small group can relax and watch the parade of wildlife.

We spent our last two nights at the Mokuti Lodge – a nice, private lodge located just outside the east gate of the park. The lodge maintained a small herd of Bontebok, a rare antelope native to Western Cape Province in South Africa.

Our Namibia Safari was over, and we then took an evening flight to Johannesburg. It is never a good idea to arrive at any African Airport in the dark – and the truth of this maxim was soon to become acutely clear. We proceeded to embark on the scariest and most dangerous part of the trip (if you ignore the lion episode). And, it was here that Auntie Gail proved that she was actually a valuable member of the expedition.

Knowing that we would be arriving in Johannesburg after dark, I had booked a hotel that was located directly across the street from the airport – the Protea Hotel O. R. Tambo. We picked up our car rental keys and proceeded to the parking lot. Of course, I had been in too big a hurry to obtain clear instructions on how to operate the GPS, and I couldn’t get it to work. No big deal, I thought. The hotel is just across the street. How hard could that be?

Johannesburg is not a small, manageable city. In fact, it’s a huge, teeming metropolis. It’s also one of the most dangerous cities in the world. The area around the airport is a tangle of freeways, on-ramps, off-ramps and fly-overs with traffic as bad as anything you could imagine.

Before I knew it, we were hurtling down the freeway away from the airport in an unknown direction. There was nothing resembling a hotel anywhere in sight. Before I knew it, we were several miles from the airport and it was getting darker and darker. I had no choice but to take an exit. Anyone familiar with Johannesburg’s well-deserved reputation would point out that this was probably a bad idea. We were soon in a gritty area that resembled East Oakland – only not as nice. We were now in the bowels of Johannesburg, precisely where we didn’t want to be. We pulled in to a convenience store to park, catch our breath, and devise a plan. A young black man on a delivery bicycle pulled up beside us. Auntie Gail took a deep breath, got out of the car and approached him. She then asked him for directions back to the airport. The young man proved to be very nice and helpful. He directed us back to the freeway, and we were again on our way.

We arrived back at O R Tambo Airport and pulled into the main parking lot. My first impulse was to park the car and take a taxi to the hotel. But, Gail pointed out that she had previously seen a neon sign just off the freeway saying PR..EA. Could this have been the Protea Hotel? We decided to give it another try. Sure enough, the Protea Hotel was, in fact, right there. Unfortunately, the middle 2 letters of the hotel sign had burned out.

But, getting to the hotel was still no simple matter. There was no freeway off-ramp in the vicinity of the hotel, and I had to bypass the hotel by at least 5 miles before I could find one. I took the first available exit, but proceeded to forget that driving is on the left in South Africa. We then barely avoided a head-on collision and, of course, my wife started to scream – berating me in her usual fashion. But Auntie Gail kept a cool head considering the circumstances. She admonished her sister – “Joan – leave the poor guy alone. He has enough problems as it is. If you stress him out any more, we’ll never get out of this alive. We’ll get rid of him after this is all over. But let’s try to get to the hotel first.”

Fortunately, there were signs to the hotel – signs which led us through a neighborhood where you really wouldn’t want to have a break-down. We finally arrived at the hotel and proceeded to check in. This seemed to take an eternity but we finally made it to our rooms. By this time, it was almost midnight. We quickly killed about a gallon of wine and dropped off to sleep. First thing in the morning, we were off on the long drive to Kruger National Park, none the worse for wear.

We were heading for Gomo Gomo, a private safari lodge located in the Klaserie Game Reserve – north of the Kruger National Park. I chose this place because they would allow me to book a private vehicle with driver/guide for the entire four days. This is very unusual as most of the game drives in Southern Africa are group affairs (a good reason to drive yourself), and I had absolutely had enough of driving around with a bunch of first-timers who wanted to spend hours contemplating every impala – or, worse, with serious bird watchers who demanded that we spend the entire drive identifying little brown birds.

We had to get to the park gate by sunset – about 6 PM – or we’d be locked out. Where we would spend the night if this happened, I had no idea – but Hoedspruit, the nearest settlement, did not appear to be a viable option. We did make it to the gate, however, and managed to check in to our pleasant, but rather simple accommodations, just before dinner. The only problem was that the lodge had assigned us rooms on opposite sides of the complex – a separation of at least 200 yards. This was completely unexpected and unacceptable, but there was apparently “nothing that they could do”.

In spite of this, we basically had fun at Gomo Gomo. The place was easy-going and, having a private vehicle, we could take things at out own pace. Unfortunately, Auntie Gail had two more setbacks to live through. The first of these involved the anti-malarial pill we all had to take. Kruger National Park is located in a malarial area on the Mozambique border, and all visitors are advised to take malaria prophylaxis. Gail had been given Malarone by her doctor in California. I had advised her to take a couple of the pills before leaving home just in case she had a bad reaction. She, of course, knows that I’m a physician, but has always treated me with the same kind of disdain that my wife does when it comes to anything medical – “Don’t bother me about it, Mike. The doctor says that this medication is well tolerated…so buzz off.”

She couldn’t have been more wrong. She was so nauseated on our first morning at Gomo Gomo that she had to miss the game drive. I advised her to just skip the pill – it was the middle of winter and there were no mosquitos around. This time she followed my advice.

But, it was on our second night, that Auntie Gail encountered her most serious challenge. She had apparently lost track of the fact that she was now located deep in the African wilderness, miles away from anything resembling civilization. She was used to hermetically sealed hotel rooms, completely insulated from the outside world. But, this is not the way Africa is. In Africa, spiders happen – large, economy size spiders – and this was what she would now have to contend with. She first noticed the spider clinging to the curtains – the ones covering the door leading to the balcony. It was big, brown and hairy. And it looked like it was ready to pounce. The situation was dire. Her only choice was to find somebody – anybody – to help her. Even Woody Allen would do.

She ran out of the front door, and down the poorly lit path, through the baboons, snakes, and God knows what else, to the lodge office – about 50 yards away. But, The office was empty – the staff had gone to bed hours before. She was now completely alone – she would have to confront the problem on her own. With the type of courage and resourcefulness that only comes out in the most desperate of situations, she rushed back to her room, grabbed a can of hair spray (she had several cans available, so she didn’t need to worry about running out) and blew the bug away. It dropped into the waste basket she was holding under it. The crisis was over.

After this, we all had a good time at Gomo Gomo. We had the incredible luck to have a pack of African Hunting Dogs living less than a mile from the camp. The pack had puppies and had set up a den. We had the opportunity to visit these characters on two occasions and were able to watch them for almost two hours in total.

African Hunting Dogs are rare – the rarest large predator in Africa and critically threatened with extinction. I had been to sub-Saharan Africa more than a dozen times previously and had only encountered them on two other occasions – once at Mana Pools in Zimbabwe, and once at the Moremi Reserve in Botswana. They’re intelligent animals – typical dogs – and have the highest hunting success rate among all of Africa’s large predators.

We also got a once-in-a-lifetime look at the endangered White Rhino. A group of three White Rhinos passed so close to our vehicle that we could hear them breathe – we could smell them.

After Gomo Gomo, we drove completely across the country to Pilanesberg National Park, located in Northwest Province along the border with Botswana. The road was long and there wasn’t much to see en route – small, scattered settlements with the occasional road sign that read: “CARJACKING HOTSPOT – DO NOT STOP”.

We treated ourselves on our last full night with a stay at the Palace of the Lost City, a completely over-the-top Las Vegas style “palace hotel” in Sun City, adjacent to Pilanesberg. It was definitely fun if a little decadent. The long ordeal of the homeward flight would begin the next evening.

And, so ends this story – another in a long line of episodes which I basically enjoyed being a part of, but wouldn’t necessarily want to repeat.