Tag: #irish

A Delivery on the Khwai River

A Delivery on the Khwai River

We were in a small safari boat on the Khwai River in Botswana. We’d just finished some up-close sightings of hippos and elephants when a boat came speeding straight toward us. What was up? Was something important happening at camp? Was there a rare animal sighting on a different part of the river? We were about to find out.

We had arrived at our camp, Xakanaxa, using a six-seater plane the day before. Xakanaxa is located in the Moremei Game Reserve in the Okavango Delta, a World Heritage Site. The waters in the Delta created a lushness that was different from the other safari lodges we had visited. At one point, between the lushness, and the abundance of animals in close proximity with each other, I thought to myself “This is what the Garden of Eden looked like.”

The Garden of Eden

Later on that first day, we had an unbelievable leopard sighting. Harry, our guide had seen the leopard the day before at the site of a kill, so he knew roughly where it would be. Still, this was amazing. After tracking the animal, he located it dozing near a tree. You or I would have gone right by and never known it was there. We were only about five yards away, and watched the leopard for about fifteen minutes as it dozed, woke briefly, and then dozed some more.

A Leopard, Up Close and Personal

On the afternoon of our second day, we chose to take a boat safari instead of a driving safari in the land cruiser. You have a different vantage from the boat, and sometimes, when lucky, enjoy incredible views. That was the case that afternoon, as we saw two swimming elephants (only the second time we’d actually seen elephants swim), hippos, crocodiles on the bank and in the river, and one elephant just a few yards from us in the water, munching on grass.

Elephant having a Bite to Eat in the Khwai River

A bit later, as we were motoring back in the direction of camp, we were held up when a hippo submerged ahead of us in the river. The river “path” was narrow enough at that point, that Harry didn’t want to proceed without knowing exactly where the hippo was – if it rose under the boat the potential to be upended was real, something that’s never a good idea in a river filled with crocodiles.

While waiting for the hippo, we had some luck and saw a rare bird – the “Little Bittern”. It was first seen by our friend Sharon (“What’s that?”), and identified by our guide. It turned out that sightings of the Little Bittern are pretty unique. Returning to camp later that evening, we learned some birders from South Africa had looked for it over the previous three days, but never managed to see it. Sharon later joked, “Yep, we were lucky to see the elusive, and exclusive, Little Bittern. And who saw it first?” 😉

“The Elusive, and Exclusive, Little Bittern”

It was after the Little Bittern sighting when we saw the fast approaching boat. Although Harry didn’t look concerned, the four of us had unspoken questions. What the hell was going on? Why would someone be coming down the channel that rapidly? Was there a problem somewhere? Had someone else’s boat been upended by a hippo? Were they going to warn of us about an issue up river? Was there some exciting sighting further up the river? We then recognized Mox, the lodge manager, and Harry said “Mox has a delivery for me.”, which raised more unspoken questions – What was so important that a delivery was needed in the middle of the Khwai River during our safari? Were we low on gas? Was oil leaking? Was there an unknown engine problem? Mox gave a wave, smiled and slowed down as he approached our boat.

Mox, Approaching our Safari Boat

Mox pulled up next to us and then all became apparent – he handed a bottle of Jameson Irish Whiskey to Harry! Harry and Mox both started to laugh, and then let us in on the rest of the story. When we left Xakanaxa that afternoon, Harry packed Gin, Tonic Waters and limes for our sundowners, but forgot to grab the Bottle of Jameson. Our friend Bill had switched between G&Ts and Jameson over the course of our trip, and Harry wanted to be prepared for either choice, so he radioed back to camp to have the Jameson delivered to our boat. At that, we all broke out laughing. This was service above and beyond the call of duty. With a wave and a smile, Mox departed and went back to camp.

Mox and Harry Making the Critical Handoff

A half hour later or so, Harry piloted us to one side of the Khwai and prepared our drinks. On safaris, Gin and Tonic was virtually always my drink of choice for sundowners, but I knew that evening I was going to have a Jameson. Harry made G&Ts for the ladies and two Jamesons for Bill and I. We all toasted each other “Pula!”** and enjoyed our drinks. I have to say, I always appreciate Jameson, but it was extra tasty that day on the Khwai. As we sipped our drinks, we joked with each other the whole thing would have made a good Jameson commercial.

Pula!

We sat there, enjoyed our drinks and watched the sun set across the river. It was another perfect ending to a great day. I looked around and then said to Harry, “Do we have time for a second drink?” He smiled and answered “I was told to bring the bottle back empty.”

The Perfect Ending to a Great Day

Addendum:

⁃ **Pula actually has four different meanings: rain, a blessing, “Cheers!” If toasting someone over a drink, and lastly, it is what they call their currency. It’s a pretty versatile and important word in Botswana.

⁃ This is the seventh in a series of blogs about our 2021 trip to Africa. The previous blogs are listed here, in the reverse order of their publishing.

⁃ This is the second time we have used Karen Dewhurst, of Sikeleli Travel & Expeditions as our travel consultant. After working with her in 2018, there was no doubt we would use her and Sikeleli again. All accommodations were amazing, the food and wine excellent, the logistics and travel arrangements perfect and the animal viewing exceeded all expectations. If you are coming to this part of the world, I highly recommend her and them. You can reach Karen at: karen@sikelelitravel.com | (+27) 81 067 1094 (South Africa). Their overall website is at: https://sikelelitravel.com/ .

The Friendliest Strangers

The Friendliest Strangers

The friendliest strangers Cathy and I ever met were at a pub in the town of Blarney. It was during a long night on a short trip to Ireland in January of 1981. We had spent the day driving around County Cork, finishing up in Blarney, where we dutifully toured the castle and kissed the Blarney Stone.

Cathy kissing the Blarney Stone. Yes, that’s how you do it. Upside down, and backwards.

Afterwards, we found a B&B to stay in and then adjourned to a local pub for a drink or two before dinner. It was probably about 4PM when we entered and we were the only ones there. We sat at a small table and I went to the bar to order myself a Murphy’s Stout and Cathy an Irish coffee. It was a raw day, and after the chill of the castle, it was good to be inside and warming up.

Often times, I think the nondescript pubs and bars are the best ones.

A bit of time passed and as we were finishing up our drinks, a man came in, nodded in our direction and went to the bar where he ordered a stout. As he was sipping his pint, he turned towards us and said,

“Would you be American?”

I answered “yes”.

“Ah then, could I buy you a drink?”

Not wanting to turn down his hospitality we said yes, and joined him at the bar where he introduced himself as Conor. When Cathy ordered an Irish Coffee, he informed her he’d buy her a real drink, but not a made up one. We all laughed and she ordered a pint as well. We toasted and then talked about this and that.

A bit later, another man came in and joined us at the bar. Cath and I introduced ourselves to him. He then said,“Would you be American? Could I buy you a drink?” Of course we accepted. A bit later, a couple more guys came in, joined our group and the same thing happened. Our money was literally no good. As we drank another round, the pub started filling up.

By now it was about 7:30 at night and we still hadn’t eaten. We asked the bartender about dinner, but it turned out they didn’t serve food. At that point Conor recommended the pub across the street for dinner. We thanked him and told the group we’d be back in a bit. They laughed, said it was good to meet us, and it was plain they thought we probably wouldn’t return.

We crossed the street and entered the other pub. There was a wedding reception going on in the main room, so we slipped into the smaller adjacent bar and sat at a table. The bartender took our order for food and we both ordered some water. As we were waiting, an older man came in from the main room to talk with the bartender and then saw us and came over to say hello. We started talking and it turned out he was the father of the bride. He suddenly said “Ahhh, you’d be American. Would you like to join us at the reception? There’ll be dancing later”. We thanked him, and although he was insistent, we declined several times and said we needed to rejoin our friends back at the other bar. He bought a round of drinks for the three of us, and we proceeded to toast the bride and groom. As our food arrived, he said goodbye, and went back to the reception.

After finishing dinner, we paid and said good night to the bartender. Now, the smart thing to do at this point, would have been to return to our B&B, maybe have a whiskey with our hosts, and turn in. Instead, we proceeded back across the street, for just “one final beer” with our new old friends.

It had grown crowded in our absence. As we looked around, Conor called out and waved to us. We worked our way through the crowd and rejoined “our group” on the far side of the bar. Someone we hadn’t met before immediately bought us another beer. And so it continued for a couple more hours … “Ahhh, you’d be American. Can I buy you a drink?” Finally, around 10PM, I bought a round for about half the pub I think. There were cheers all around. I looked at the clock a bit later and it was 10:40. I thought to myself “OK, just make it to 11PM. The pub will close, and we can make our way home to the B&B.” (at the time, pubs closed at 11PM in Ireland. Nowadays, it’s 1130PM on weekdays, although Covid has currently shortened the hours.)

11PM came… and … they closed the shutters on the windows, locked the door… and … everyone kept on partying! Oh lord …

A little after midnight, the pub started emptying and we knew it was time to go. We said goodbye to Conor and our other new friends, with many handshakes, backslaps and hugs all around. Finally, we departed and made our way to the B&B.

At the B&B, we found the owner had put two rubber hot water bottles under our blankets at the foot of the bed. It was a toasty night’s sleep in more ways than one.

The next day, I felt way better than I had a right to. I suppose the hearty Irish breakfast helped. As we ate breakfast and drank our coffee, Cathy and I talked and laughed about the night before and what a great time we had. It’s amazing how quickly you can sometimes make friends when traveling. You start the night as strangers, and by the end, you are friends of sorts. Not life long buddies, but friends nonetheless. Over time, it’s certainly happened for us in other locales, and with other people, but that night in Blarney? I dunno. Maybe we gained the gift of gab from kissing the Stone, and maybe not. I do know it’s a night I’ve never forgotten.

Addendum:

That 1981 vacation was about ten days long. We spent the first five or six days in England, including New Year’s Eve at Trafalgar Square (London’s equivalent of Time Square for NY Eve at the time). We then spent five days in Ireland, including Dublin, and driving along the south coast past Waterford, eventually arriving in County Cork. Here’s a picture of Cathy along the Coast – I’m not sure why, but I really like this candid photo of her. She was 25 years old at the time.

⁃ In researching a couple of items for this blog, I found out pub lock-ins evidently happen more than you might think. Here’s an article about them: https://www.afar.com/magazine/the-late-night-secret-irelands-pubs-dont-want-you-to-know-about

– Happy Saint Paddy’s Day next week. Everyone is Irish on the 17th…