Slowing Down
- pete
- 2 days ago
- 5 min read
Updated: 1 day ago
It is mid-March and the neighborhood is quiet. Our southern hemisphere's fall break arrived and people are on adventures. The beach, the wetlands, the safaris, back country camping are on the menu. There are so many great places around here the options seem endless. In a way, they are. We are fortunate people.
My break, however, has taken a more mellow path, occasionally broken up by the thrashing the ocean sets upon me as I learn to kite surf. I teach my students about operant conditioning, behavior and consequences. There is something about the unpleasant consequences of incorrect behavior on a kiteboard that are particularly punishing. Maybe it is the way in which I cannonballed through the air achieving a generous arc before crashing down, slapping into the taut membrane of water. After shaking off the daze and spitting out some sea water, I get back up and try again. There are some instinctive behaviors that need to be adjusted, primarily not pulling on the bar as you try to get up. Turns out that pulling the bar increases kite power and turns you into Superman, a term used in tutorial videos when the kite decides you are a projectile, not a surfer. I've since learned to let go of the bar and treat it with a little more respect. With only 4 lessons so far, that's about all I can say. I'll keep you posted.
Aside from that horseplay, we were gifted with cool weather and much-welcomed rain here in Maputo this week. At the moment, I get to enjoy these last few days off work with the sliding doors open, the sound of drizzle outside, a cool cross-breeze, and a pleasant dim ambiance thanks to the cloud cover. Given the circumstances, I find it appropriate to share some photos of a few February adventures.
A three-day weekend gave us the opportunity to visit Kosi Bay, just across the southern border in South Africa. The World Heritage Site is home to a freshwater river draining into the ocean via four distinct lakes, each with higher salinity levels than the last. Each lake is connected by beautiful little water pathways. Indigenous people have been fishing there for hundreds of years using unique wooden fishing traps. Sol and I enjoyed a boat ride and a turtle-hatching tour.
David Attenborough effectively sold me on these adorable little turtles scrambling for the ocean. Just like the wild dogs, I've been rather passionate about seeing them. Our turtle visitation took place at night.
While I was with the injured little guy (left flipper!), Sol was with a female laying eggs.
The next day, I got sunburned on a smooth boat trip down to the lakes.
I made this silly video for my family back in the States. I'm sure they won't mind that I share.
Make sure to smash that "like" button and subscribe! Post comments down below! Ha.
It was a pleasant experience overall. Even studying was beautiful.
And for you nature-lovers, here is a cool baby scorpion I found hanging out in the bathroom of our lodge at Kosi Bay:
A few weekends later, I finally ventured off to do some rustic solo camping in the backcountry of Maputo NP. The location was basically on a hill between swamps. The wetlands of southern Africa.
This is where I camped relative to still bodies of water. Needless to say, the mosquitos were relentless.
This little 2-night camp trip introduced me to beetles the size of bars of soap doing fly-bys (awesome), a territorial monkey screaming at me from a tree above my car (intimidating), scorpions (scary), swarms of mosquitos (exhausting), hippos enjoying lunch next to my spot (terrifying), and a blistering sun that wouldn't quit (gnarly). There were so many mosquitos, I used an entire can mosquito-repellent spray, and had to literally do a running start to my tent from 20 meters away. Even then three or four would be on my person and sneak their way into my tent. The interior wall of the tent was covered in mosquito carcasses and (my) blood smeared along them. It was unbelievable. I'm amazed I don't have malaria. Knock on wood.
The little patch of trees in the center of the photo are surprisingly close! It was a bizarre range of perspective.
The camping trip wore me out. I realized that I'm prey here. In Colorado and Oregon, there is a sense that I'm a visitor to the mountains and forests and rivers. I'm familiar with what's out there and how to interact with my environment. Here, it wasn't like that. I was a simply a source for food. The hippo encounter was particularly perturbing. Mid-morning I went for a walk and turned a corner next to camp and briefly saw a hippo grazing about 7 meters from me. I backed up out of vision and froze, waiting out its grunts, terrified of the potentialities. It was very well aware I was there, but undecided on how it would react. It is rare for a human to be in these parts. Instinctively, I looked around for a tree to scamper up if necessary. It all seemed so simple in my mind. Either the hippo would charge me, or it wouldn't. And in the scenario that it charged me, one of two things would happen: I'd make it up the tree, or I wouldn't. One can only use their imagination if the latter combination were to play out. I shudder at the thought. In an effort to bring about the safer of the two possible scenarioes laid in front of me, I stayed still and quiet, doing my best not to alarm this absolute unit of an herbivore. Fortunately, about 12 minutes later it turned back around the small trees that separated us and I power-walked to the car, finally able to breathe easy again. I recorded it on my GoPro and it was interesting to hear how quiet I was. I was clearly aware of my position in this power dynamic.
I felt very out of place while loving every part about it. Reflecting on the drive home, I noted the benefits of experiencing an uncomfortable natural environment. We are so content within our four square walls and roof. And understandably so. Who doesn't enjoy sweatpants, sofas, and books or TV? Add in some cheese or chocolate and you got a great afternoon ahead of you. But in a way, camping in Maputo NP reminded me about the importance of allowing contrast into our lives. It is ok to feel discomfort. That is part of the human experience.
It certainly makes me appreciate my current situation sitting here as it gently drizzles and the sparrows fly around looking for insects.
On that note, I'm going to mosey over to the fridge to make a cheese platter, then lay on the couch and see what Paul Atreides and Stilgar are up to.
