Thursday June 14 Today was our first full day at Katete. I woke up promptly at 3:00 a.m. I then spent the next 2-1/2 hours trying desperately
to get back to sleep. This was to be the only time that I experienced any form of 'jet lag' over the course
of the entire trip. The 5:30 a.m. wake up call (a polite knock on our cottage
door) was a welcome relief from the tossing and turning. Scott and I quickly
grabbed our day packs and camera gear before making the short hike up the hill to the
lodge. Coffee and tea was set out on a long table near the sitting room for those
that wanted to embibe. Most everyone was sipping on something. It was still
dark out. After some confusion by the staff, I was given a glass of water. It
seems as though they had never encountered a guest who didn't drink coffee or tea, so they
were a little surprised and unprepared for my request. Every morning after that, a
pitcher of water was set out for me. With my glass of water in hand, I carefully made
my way across the predawn darkened, grassy courtyard. I managed to avoid tripping
on any unseen objects as I headed towards the pool deck for an unobstructed view of the
impending sunrise. The air was cool and crisp. Venus and the Moon were
sharing the inky indigo sky above, while the horizon glowed a fire red below. Soon
after, the call came; we boarded our respective trucks and were on our way.
The vehicle I had been assigned to was nearly full.
When I arrived, the only available spot left was the "shotgun" seat, up front next
to the driver. In this situation, the "shotgun" seat took on a whole new meaning.
Nestled between myself and Musa, our driver/guide, was a zippered case. Inside
the case was a .40 caliber bolt action rifle. This was to be our protection during the
walk. Musa steered the truck down a series of roads for about 10 to 15 minutes before
we exited the vehicle. It was at this point that the sun rose above the horizon of the
distant mountains. Musa stopped the engine and the quiet enveloped us. Like most
every Zimbabwean we'd met, Musa was very soft-spoken and had a ready smile. As he
removed his rifle from it's case and chambered a round, he briefly explained the safety rules
we were to abide by for the duration of the walk: We were to walk single file, speak softly and
keep our eyes open. If we happened to come across a lion, we had to be extra
cautious, for more than the obvious reasons. Musa explained that several lion cubs had
been born recently, and unlike the older lions, the cubs might approach us, just as a kitten
would. Of course, the mother would not take kindly to that and might attack us in
defense of it's cub.
We were instructed to shout and make lots of noise if a lion
were to approach us. Shortly after Musa imparted these rules, we gathered to head out.
Right then, we heard a lion let out a long and low roar. It was quite near.
 Musa's back had been to us momentarily as he took a last look at the sunrise, before we started
out. After hearing the lion, he turned round to face us with a big, toothy grin.
Whispering he said "That's a lion!" He turned back around, rifle slung over his shoulder, and
began to lead our walk in the very direction of the roar's source.
That was to be the first of a few times that I felt a sense of
danger during our 3 days at Katete. Common sense and the feeling of your own mortality
would tell you to go in another direction, or seek out the relative safety of the vehicle in which we'd
arrived. But you must bear in mind that there are neither doors nor windows on the game
trucks. Any large animal could quite readily harm both the driver or the front seat passenger.
Being out in the bush, unprotected except for Musa and his rifle, I suddenly felt naked to the elements,
and a part of the food chain. Not the top rung, either.
As our small group moved through the brush and grass, I
knew that any animal would have heard us approaching. We were anything but silent.
Twigs popping beneath our feet, grass rustling as we waded through and branches rattling their drying
leaves as they snapped back in place after we passed. Our presence was being announced
loudly. I felt like a lamb being led to slaughter. We hadn't been walking for more than
3 minutes, before Musa brought us to a halt. Those of us in the rear of our little troupe of 7
hikers, quickly gathered around him.
Musa was standing over the long-since-dead remains of an
adult male gazelle. Although they were merely skeletal remains, there were lots of things to be
learned by examining them. Speaking quietly in broken English (which like most English-speaking
Zimbabweans, carries a British accent), Musa pointed out some key things: the skeleton was intact,
meaning that only a lion had fed on the gazelle. If it had been fed upon by jackals or other
scavengers, the carcass would have been spread all over the surrounding area. Judging by
the size of the corpse, Musa was able to roughly determine its age. When he was done speaking
and answering any questions, he lingered silently for a moment in what seemed like respect and reverance,
before moving on.
Throughout our walk, Musa would stop and point out different
things of interest. He showed us elephant tracks and taught us how to "read" them. By
measuring the circumference of a rear footprint, then multiplying by 2.5, one would arrive at the rough
height of it's shoulder. The height can help determine the age. The gender of the elephant
is difficult to ascertain solely by it's tracks. Although, after a certain size, one can tell that it is
a male, owing to the fact that older adult males are much larger than the adult females.
The elephant's direction of travel is determined by a sculpted
edge on one side of the track, from it's toes dragging out of the ground. The rest of the track is
extremely shallow with short edges around the rim. The tracks also tend to overlap when the
elephant is walking. Unlike most animal tracks that have definite toe markings, elephant footprints
just appear as large, round impressions in the ground, with no easily discernible toe markings. In
Musa's words: "You can tell if an elephant is happy or upset. If it is happy, the tracks overlap.
The rear foot lands where the front foot stepped. If the elephant is upset, then it is walking quickly,
and there is a gap between footprints." Then a exhibiting a great sense of humor, Musa laughingly added: "There
are things I cannot tell you by the footprints. For example, I cannot tell you his name is 'Steven'
and that he was born in April."
The walk got underway once again, Musa in the lead, followed
by Eli, a 15 year old boy from Alaska, then the rest of our little band of would-be game trackers. An
unseen bird sitting by the side of the road we traveled, suddenly sprung up and took flight. The bird
was immediately in front of Eli, and almost flew into his face as it flapped away. Everyone was
startled by the sudden commotion, then laughed when we discovered what had just happened. As
if in response to our laughter, the grove of trees ahead of us crackled into life.
There was a tremendous sound of leaves rustling and branches
snapping. Some of the tree tops could be seen to shake violently. There were at least one,
and maybe two elephants dining in the grove just ahead. We still could not see them, but we
could definitely hear them. And they could hear us. It turns out that all the animals here
are used to the game trucks and are fairly comfortable around them. But, they are very wary
and shy of humans on foot. These elephants were retreating from us.
Continuing down the road quietly and cautiously, we attempted
to see the elephant. We were now much nearer and could see it's large dark shape between
the trees, but Musa noticed it's behavior and had us move into the grove of trees on the opposite side
of the road. The elephant was aware of us and was beginning to show signs of aggression.
The small thin trees offered us no protection from the large elephant, except for the ability to blend in
and seemingly disappear.
As per some of the paperwork mailed to us by Specialty Tours
months prior to arriving in Zimbabwe, most all of us were wearing, tan, brown, sandy or dark green colored
clothes. The surrounding trees and the color of our clothes became our camoflage. Add
to that, the fact that elephants have poor eyesight, and we were able to pull off a nifty little disappearing
act. Sitting still among the trees and keeping very quiet, the elephant lost track of us. We
could see it facing us through the trees, swaying to and fro as it tried to catch a glimpse of us.
We held that position for a few minutes, until Musa led us
away. He said we'd upset the elephant twice, and that a third time might make him charge
us. We stayed between the trees for about 30 yards, then got back on the road, where our
group could travel more silently, padding along on the sandy soil. Continuing our trek, Musa
pointed out a sort of slumped, angled shelf in the earth, to one side of the road. An elephant had
been sleeping there. We were told that elephants can have a difficult time getting up, once they
have laid down, so they will often rest against small hills.
For the second time that morning, we heard a lion bellow.
And for the second time that morning, Musa headed us in the direction of the call. It made us
just a little more at ease when we were told that what we'd heard was the sound a lion makes
when it has eaten and is full. We never spotted the lion during the walk, and I had mixed emotions
about that; I was disappointed that we didn't see a lion, but relieved as well. I didn't want to find
out first hand how truly full the lion was.
The remainder of the walk was uneventful, but the scenery was
quite beautiful. It was now almost 8:00 a.m. and time to hike back to the game truck. We
were due to return to the lodge for breakfast.
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