Fur and Feathers Journals, 2024, Entry No. One

 Entry No. One

Bears or Bed?

“Want to go out to the beach and check for bears?” asks  Karl after dinner on our first night at Shelter Creek tent camp.

 

I don’t respond, just reach for my camera and start to stand.  Then, while listening to my body hurling all kinds of threats and invectives, I stare down at the table for a moment and say, “No.  I’m going to bed.”

 

And I do.   

 

I am beyond exhausted.  I reach the tent, take off my shoes and wrestle my way into a large, flannel-lined sleeping bag with a pillow.   Inside the bag is a sheet folded in half length-wise and I try as best I can to get between the folded sheet while still wearing the rest of my clothes.

Four cot tents, but Alicia and I are the only two in this tent.

 

The sun is still shining, so it must have been 8-ish when I hit the sack.   Or  bed, or bag. Whatever.

The tents are Hansen Weatherports and very roomy.   These are the ribs with sun shining through the trees.

 

I am chilled.   The wind had blown all day and by evening I was starting to get cold.   After dinner, the chill really took hold.    I pull the sleeping bag over my head and snuggle down as much as I can while wearing clothes, and in between a folded sheet.

 

Then, I think about how I arrived here.

 

A week before I had no intention to go anywhere.   Then, Wednesday I spoke with a friend who offered me an unbelievable price for three nights in the Shelter Creek tent camp and three nights at Silver Salmon Creek Lodge.   It’s one of my favorite places in Alaska and after first declining because of the exterior restoration project I was immersed in, I changed my mind and said yes.

 

We were to meet at Lake Hood, the floatplane base in Anchorage, at 11 AM Sunday.  Our plane would be on wheels and take off from the adjacent airstrip.

I arrived there at 10 AM, but our flight was re-scheduled for the next day at 7:45 AM because of strong, blustery winds.

 

I drove the hundred miles home, had a lot of trouble falling asleep, got maybe two hours of sleep, and headed back the hundred miles to Anchorage.  

 

My friend, Eddie, and I were the only ones there.   The woman who organized the trip didn’t show until 10:30 or so.   Then, the pilot texted 11:30.   More waiting, but eventually we were off.   Mixed texts; mixed messages.

Tide flats west side of Cook Inlet

 

After an hour or so, the Cessna 185 skipped across the mud flats to slow the plane and came to a stop on the sandy beach.  Carts and staff met us, loaded our luggage and us, and headed for the lodge.

The charts are pulled by an ATV.

 

No sooner did we clear the first line of trees and enter the meadow, than we saw a Coastal brown bear walking our way.   No problem, we just let him go.

Here's a video I took, probably with my phone.   Listen to the noise of the wind.

 

After lunch at Silver Salmon Creek Lodge, we board an aluminum boat with Oliver in command and we bounce and slam our way across the waves about ten miles south to Shelter Creek.   The seas are rough.   So is the ride.

 

This boat, or another like it, is what took us to Shelter Creek.

We arrive at high tide and Oliver is able to enter the creek and drop us off right in front of camp.   We meet our co-hosts, Ronnie and Karl.

Karl, left, and Ronnie, right.   Great camp hosts.

Note the ladder to get up the bank.

  

Our glorious kitchen and Ronnie's domain.

 

One of the Hansen Weatherports

Four men toting fishing gear and huge cameras climb on board the boat for a ride back to the lodge.  They had to spend an extra day because of the same bad weather that delayed us.

 

I notice they look pretty glum and I wonder if they hadn’t caught any salmon.  But why do the photographers also look glum?   No bears?

 

We have a nice dinner and sit around chatting until Karl asks me about checking for bears.

 

Nope, nope.  Soon I am tucked into my flannel-lined sleeping bag. There will be bears tomorrow.

 

 

Looking upstream from camp.   The large peak on the far right is Mt. Iliamna, a dormant volcano.   The three peaks to the left are actually another ridge in from of Iliamna

Another upstream view showing the tidal spread of Shelter Creek.

Photo taken from in front of camp and looking to the mouth of Shelter Creek and into Cook Inlet.  That far green strip on the left is where Karl wanted to check for bears.

The 2021 Africa Journals, Ch. 7, In Which My Heart Finds a Forever Home Away from Home

 (Note:   I have no idea why the text is appearing in white strips.   Still working on a fix.)

Chapter Seven:

In Which My Heart Finds a Forever Home Away from Home

 

“Wilderness is not a luxury

but necessity of the human spirit.” – Edward Abbey

 

I had a preconceived notion of what the Okavango Delta looked like.   It must be a vast swamp, I imagined, cut with water channels three to four feet wide in which people poled or paddled those little dug out canoes that were about the size of an average Nile crocodile through tall reeds and grasses.   The Delta, however, has some of the largest crocs in the world.  

Not for me.   Not when hippos are notorious for charging and over-turning those little boats.

 

I intentionally cut off the heads of these men for their privacy.   They are paddling a mokoro on the Chobe River.

But wait.   I’m getting ahead of myself.   When last I left you, I was dismayed about the long lines of wildfires burning through northern Botswana.  I took a few photos as our pilot maneuvered around towering cumulus clouds and uprising smoke.

When we landed at the first airstrip to drop off two people, there were flames leaping from burning bushes along the edges of the strip.   Oh, man, I was sure glad this wasn’t our stop.  

 

        

         A half hour later, it was our stop and we climbed out of the small plane not to clear air but as least we couldn’t smell the smoke.       I looked around and saw a lilac-breasted roller on a nearby branch.   

That’s a good omen, I figured.   Maybe Murphy’s Law won’t catch up to me here.   We were met by a lovely lady name Razi and were soon bouncing our way to Great Plains Explorers camp, about an hour away.  Sand.   I noticed the trails were made over sand.   Softer than rocks but bouncy nonetheless.

       

         We weren’t in the Delta per se, but in the adjoining 320,000 acre private Selinda Reserve of northern Botswana.  The Selinda Spillway drains into the Delta.   The Delta itself drains rainwater from Angola and floods a large area.   None of the water reaches the ocean.   Rather, the water is evaporated or transpired by plants.   It is an oasis in a desert.

       I borrowed this map from the Internet.   Selinda Reserve is at the top of Botswana with a number 1 in it.   Our camp is not listed.

         We stopped for a few wildlife shots as we made our way to the camp.   We were in somewhat of a hurry because we didn’t want to miss the late, short, afternoon game drive.

 

Tsessebe, pronounced something like SEH-seh-bee.   The fastest antelope species in Africa, it can run at 60 kmh (37 mph).   To me they look like a cross between topi and red hartebeest.

        

Common waterbuck, male.  So-called because of its heavy dependence on water, males stand  a bit over four feet at the shoulder.

And then we reached camp.   Zowie!  I fell in love with my tent immediately.   I never wanted to leave here.

 

 

My tent number.

 

                        Note that the tents are covered by a larger fly.

                            At 5  AM wake-up call, I would find my tea and cookies on the side table.

        The decor is tailor-made to evoke images of the early African explorers, with packing trunks and luggage  outfitted for hanging and storing clothing and other items..   

In the very center of this photo is a tent flap that leads to the en suite bathroom.   It is outside, but under the tent fly.   It has a shower and a flush toilet surrounded by a privacy screen of bamboo.   The white thing is a towel rack and the floor is slats.

 

The "closet" designed inside a trunk.

From the firepit to the common siting area.   We dined in this area at night.

The dining tent for lunch.

The common sitting area where we gathered for our game drives, for snacks, tea or coffee.   At center right, Marg is kneeling in front of her computer.   At her right is the crate where all the devices could be charged.

An almost empty charging trunk.   I think that's my iPad and black battery charger in there.   Sometimes it's impossible to find a an empty receptacle.

The common loo.

Inside the common loo.

Just before four o'clock, we gathered in the common sitting area for snacks and fruit juice.   Two of the people we met at Pangolin photo safari lodge were here and would be our game drive companions for a few drives until they left.

"How are you doing?" I asked the woman.   She showed me her wet tee shirt and replied, "Learning how to cope with the hot weather."   I looked at the little thermometer attached to my camera bag:   95 degrees Fahrenheit!!!

With that introduction, we were off to see what we could find in the Selinda Reserve.   After driving through the riverine forest for a few minutes, we pulled alongside a beautiful waterway.    This is not what I expected at all!!

                                            Beautiful, beautiful Selinda.

This was not the first surprise Selinda had in store for me.