This is a delayed transmission. Written in longhand in the absence of the computer(bust!). The next couple will follow shortly.
With the Landy at last in one piece (hopefully) we bade farewell to the Greens, who had looked after us royally, and headed off for our second home at Ngepi.
We had had enough of long distances, so decided to take it easy and break our journey at Roy’s Camp, which is 57 k North of Grootfontein. It is a lovely spot, reasonably priced at R 20 per head, and easily accessible to caravans (although of course we were in our tent). That evening we watched various buck, including Eland, Wildebeest and Zebra, come down to the water hole to drink. The manager was also looking after and bottle-feeding a six day old Eland calf found by the local bushmen. She already stood well over a metre high.
Next day we pushed on to Ngepi, and arrived amidst some excitement. Their new Samel truck had gone into Botswana to pick up some travellers from a Mokoro (local dugout) trip and had overturned on the way out.
Two of the tourists had been injured (not drastically, but seriously enough), and it was decided to air evacuate them. By this time it was dark, and vehicles were needed to light up the local Bangani airstrip.
The Landy was to be some use at last! Four vehicles were required, one at the end with its stern to the incoming aircraft, flashing its emergency lights, one at the other end, shining its lights down the length of the strip, and two in the middle on either side of the strip, shining their lights so that they would cross in the middle and so make an arrow. The Landy was assigned to be one of the middle markers (this was possibly where it would do the least harm).
Anyway, the aircraft, a twin engine Beach Baron landed beautifully, and the two patients were checked by the doctor and loaded up. Off we went back to our cars for departure stations, and we sat, and sat. In the darkness we could make out some scurrying back and forth around the plane, and then, after a while, torches were waved in our direction and we were beckoned over.
We drove across.
“Have you guys got a shifting spanner?”
Both the pilot and the medic had the starboard engine cover off, and were poking inside despondently – much to the dismay of two wan patients who were getting paler by the minute.
It appeared that the starter motor had fallen off, and they needed imperial size spanners to put it back again. The Landy’s tool kit, to its everlasting pride. was able to do the necessary.
One problem however, neither the pilot, nor the medic – who by now was up to his elbows in grease- was able to find both of the missing nuts, which were somewhere in the engine. The patients were less than happy! One spare nut was eventually obtained locally and a couple of hours later off the went on a wing and many, many prayers.
On Saturday we left Ngepi, our home off and on for six weeks, and headed into Botswana to keep our appointment with Dup du Plessis at Sepupa (We had met Dup on an exploratory drive when we first got to Ngepi).
The du Plessis camp is not easy to describe, but we’ll try.
You turn off the main Maun road to Sepupa, and, just as the village starts, you take a sand track to the right for a couple of kms. You then take an even sandier track to the left through fairly thick bush and come to a clearing on the banks of the Okavango River.
In amongst the Wild Mangosteens, Fikus ek weet nies, boats, donkeys, goats, carcasses of various vehicles, old outboard motors, and various other paraphernalia, you will find “Chateau du Plessis”.
The “Chateau” itself comprises of various reed and shade cloth walls roofed by a couple of tarps, which are the living quarters of Family du Plessis.
Chateau du Plessis
Visitors, and they are many and varied, pitch their tents or sleep in their vehicles or under the stars, in the near vicinity.
Dup, his wife Helene, and children Dagny (16), and Simon (14), are wonderful people – Helene also has an older son,
Gregor, who works at a lodge at Rundu. Dup and Helene, both in their 40s, have led varied lives. They both worked for the Namibian Dept. of Conservation, and at one time ran Ais Ais. Dup started off as a boy seaman in the S.A.Navy and, believe it or not, was awarded Springbok colours for ice dancing. They both studied homeopathy at Stellenbosch, and that is what they are doing now, apart from fishing, fixing outboard motors, and generally looking after their motley visitors. Dup is also a councillor on the local Kgotla (tribal council). Their kids are charming, well-mannered youngsters who have the capability of navigating the maze of the Okavango Delta back channels with ease. When you consider that Simon is only 14, the responsibility that he is able to shoulder is formidable.
Family du Plessis.
Dagny, Les (Dup), Simon, Helene and Greg, with cat and snuffles the dog.
Our days at Sepupa were mainly spent on the Delta exploring the various channels, fishing (not too successfully), birding and swimming on the sand banks – keeping a wary eye open for crocs and hippo.
There are plenty of big crocodiles in this area, and also snakes, but they are not as big a problem as the hippo.
The hippo in the Sepupa pan handle area are notorious for their aggression, and are not at all like their cousins, our buddies, in Mamili. This is possibly because very few of the local fishermen use Mokoros any more.
Traditional fishermen in a mokoro fishing a lagoon at sunset.
Most of them charge up and down in aluminium boats with hefty outboards (the Govt. allows a 90% loan). This also affects the fishing because they only use nets and have been taught by the Norwegians (who should know better) to net off the various breeding lagoons. They sell all their fish at 8 Pula (abt 12 Rand) a kilo. notwithstanding the size. Consequently the Bream population in this area is severely depleted.
The hippos really are aggressive, and we had various encounters where they showed, in no uncertain terms, that they objected to our presence. On one occasion it became more serious.
Sean (Minogue), Shaun (an ex Yamaha bike rider from Hillcrest, currently based at Maun servicing outboards), and Eric (a French student of Oceanography) – told you that they were a motley bunch -, went out Tiger fishing.
Shaun knew the channels well, and took the boat into one of the better fishing spots, loosely tying up to some Papyrus.
Various watery snorts were heard, Sean was accused but denied it indignantly. Nothing was seen and the fishing continued.
Eric said — “Zut Alors, look zere are some boobles coming up stream”
Sean said —-” they are right under the boat!”
Shaun said—- “##@@$! ” dived the length of the boat, pulled the starter cord and opened the throttle full at the same time.
The Hippo said, as he erupted where the boat had been one second earlier —-“Drat! missed again!”
There was a lot of hysterical laughter after that episode, but there was no doubt that if it had not been Shaun’s quick reactions, we would all have been decorating the Papyrus and in big trouble. We definitely kept Misafi out of the water in this area.
Dup’s fleet. Hippo target second from the left.
After a day on the river, evenings were spent around the camp fire cooking whatever came to hand, and with Dup singing to his guitar.
Evening entertainment
Sean and Jean, to their chagrin, became known to all as “Tannie” Jean and “Oom” Sean, however as evenings progressed this became Tannie “Tee” and “Oom Kortgat”.
We’ll try to describe the part of the river that we were on – the panhandle before the Okavango widens out into the main Delta. The river is fairly narrow but can become very deep (6/7 metres in places).
Even though we were not in the main Delta, there were a myriad of channels, back channels, and lagoons. Getting lost was not difficult. The majority of the channels were banked with Papyrus Reed or Hippo Grass, and in many cases, floating. One would come across treed islands, and often these islands would serve as a camp for the local fishermen. It was quite strange. You would come around a corner and find an aluminium motor boat tied up under a tree, and, on the bank, a ruddy great gas-powered deep freeze. Fish hanging from a line would be smoking over a fire, and usually there would be a number of kids and dogs milling around.
It would take a book to describe the various characters that moved in and out of Dup’s camp whilst we were there. People of all nations and walks of life from Italian businessmen to the local Tswana social worker (who was smashed out of his mind every day after 10 am)
We must however tell you about Fordjie (pronounced Forkie- which needed some care in enunciation!), Martins and his wife Hannelie. Fordjie is a contract driller from Gobabis who works the Botswana area. He is slightly shorter than Sean (He was the “Kortgat” whilst Sean was “Oom Kortgat”), but built like the proverbial brick outhouse. His stomach is of heroic proportions and his feet perpetually in the shade. Hannelie, his wife is a Dominee’s daughter. We got on together like a house on fire, and again experienced the warm-heartedness and friendliness of the true Afrikaner.
Fordjie the sheriff rides into town
The Martins left Sepupa the same day that we did. As it would take us two days to reach the Namibian border (we were taking a different route back), they, and Dup, had arranged that we would all spend the night with mutual friends of theirs at D’kar, and then we had been told, in no uncertain terms that we would stay the next night in the Martins’ home in Gobabis.
We left a few hours before the Martins, as they were taking a short cut which would have given us problems with the caravan. The road was not too bad, but quite bleak and lonely. Halfway through our journey, at a junction in the middle of nowhere, we found the Martins waiting, just to check that we were going well. A cold beer was thrust into Sean’s hand, and off they went again ahead of us to D’kar.
At D’kar the braai had been organized, some huge T bones prepared, and of course, again the ubiquitous cold Castle produced. Our hosts in D’kar were Christo Vorster and his mother Annie. We were put up on the front lawn (probably the only grass in D’kar) adjacent to a cottage with a shower, loo etc, and again made to feel very welcome in a typical “my home is your home” fashion.
The next night we spent with the Martins in Gobabis, who had other friends there, and on the Saturday morning before we left for Windhoek we were treated to a “small” breakfast. Eggs, bacon, pap, onions, boerewors, tomatoes, toast and konfyt, and coffee which had been liberally dosed with “additive”. It was Sean’s birthday, and he had the unique experience of listening to the Afrikaans version of “Happy Birthday” rendered at full volume by Fordjie and his equally boisterous friends.
We spent a few days in Windhoek, again enjoying the kind hospitality of the Greens, and are now camped at Lang Strand which is halfway between Walvis Bay and Swakopmund. These towns are very different, the latter being very German, and both have their own particular charm.
Sunset at Lang Strand with vessel in the background
Sean is trying very hard to catch fish, but, although we have had a couple of meals from the sea, the big one is being elusive. Tomorrow we head up the coast to Henties Bay, where we will spend the night with Fordjie’s parents, Molly and Fordjie Senior. (Fordjie by the way is Afrikaans for little Ford car – so now you know.)
Trying to catch fish near Swakopmund.