Saturday, October 19, 2013
African Safari - Part 3 - Zimbabwe and the Zambezi River
Here are some photo's from my recent trip to Africa and the country of Zimbabwe. It was fantastic to see the mighty Zambezi River in two locations, Victoria Falls (one of the original Seven Wonders of the World) and Mana Pools National Park.
At our camp in Victoria Falls (Elephant Camp) a cheetah orphan was saved and raised by local wildlife biologists and it has been totally habituated to humans. His name is Sylvester and he is a magnificent cat.
Portrait with Sylvester. His coat was soft and warm.
Approach to Victoria Falls, where the Zambezi River plunges nearly 300 feet along a cliff that is one mile across! It is truly astounding to see it.
September is the low water season and there may be 38,000 cubic feet per second plunging over the lip in this photograph. I have been here in January and seen more water that shown here.
To read something about the geologic formation of the Falls, look here. For a detailed and excellent review of the formation of the Zambezi River look here. It seems that the mystery of the formation of the river is better known than our own Colorado River.
Remember the hyper-inflation that gripped Zimbabwe in the late 2000's? The phenomenal rate of decline of the Zimbabwe dollar was astounding (see here) and the ultimate rate of inflation reached 6.5 sextillion percent in mid-November 2008. Here is a 10 million dollar bank note. But wait.....
A fifty billion dollar bank note.......
And the largest ever printed is the one hundred trillion dollar bank note. (Recall the US debt at this time is about 17 trillion dollars). These are photos of actual notes that I purchased on this trip. Ironically, the notes arer worth more now as collector items than they were as official currency. The country now uses American dollars as their official currency.
Next I traveled in our plane downstream along the river to Mana Pools National Park. The river here forms the international boundary between Zimbabwe and Zambia, where the mountains in the background are located. These mountains form the shoulder of the southern end of the East Africa Rift. Behind the photographer is a similar rift shoulder in Zimbabwe but it is about 15 miles back away from the river.
First nights sunset with elephants grazing on an island in the river.
Sunrise along the river in Rukomechi Camp.
A downstream (east) view of the river at sunrise. This was my favorite stop on the whole 15 day trip. We were three nights here and a recent and unexpected rain had cleared the air of agricultural-burning smoke.
Sunrise on the lower Zambesi River.
I can't remember the name of this bird but there were so many beautiful ones on this trip.
Elephant mother and child.
The winter thorn forest away from the river.
A large baobab tree. These are long lived, some being as old as 4,000 years.
We saw great hippos at this national park and could hear them all night from our lodge.
A carmine bee-eater rookerie. These nests are within a deposit of river sediment.
Elephant reflections in the river.
An elephant footprint.
Hmm? What is this animal?
Ah yes, the leopard.
We found this mother a cub lounging in the forest. More leopard photos to follow and the final posting from this trip.
Yes, there are crocodiles!
Leaving Rukomechi Camp, we had a great view of the Zambezi River with sand bars visible just below water level. This is an amazing river and I hope to return soon.
Thursday, October 17, 2013
The Copper Quill Award Luncheon, October 17, 2013
Today was the day of the Copper Quill Award ceremony. It was held at Thornager's and about 50 library volunteers and dignitaries were in attendance. Many of the library's volunteers were recognized for their service, lunch was served and then the award was made.
The scene inside Thornager's in Flagstaff.
Here I am with two past recipients of the Copper Quill, Michael Collier and Rose Houk (our former next door neighbors when we lived on West Cherry Avenue). Rose was the 1997 winner and Michael in 2004. Seew a list of all of the past winners here.
Here I am with the Director of the Flagstaff Public Library, Heidi Holland.
Giving thanks for the award.
With Flagstaff's Mayor, Jerry Nabours.
All of the past winners in attendance had a photo taken. From left to right, Susan Lamb, myself, Rose Houk, Peter Frederici, and Michael Collier.
The award plate. I am very grateful for the recognition - thank you to the past recipients for honoring me and my writing.
I was also asked if I would give a short reading from my work. I gave it some thought and decided to pick an excerpt from a new article that will be published next year in a college textbook about Southwest Adventure Careers, and in a slightly different form in, An Anthology of Grand Canyons Hikes. Here is the text to the short story that I read at this event, called:
"On Being A Trail Guide"
How did I get here? In a sentence, I just followed my heart. In high school and even college, I never enrolled in courses with the primary outcome to define a career. I remember feeling incredibly lost as friends all around me identified their life choices at the age of 18 - heck, I didn’t even know that college students majored in something. So I enrolled in classes that solely were interesting to me. I followed my heart and in those wilder and freer days of the early 1970’s, I wandered into and discovered the Grand Canyon. Instead of a career path, I got a footpath. I found satisfaction far beyond a fat paycheck, a fancy car, or a big house. I became a Grand Canyon trail guide.
So what is it like? Many times each year I drive up to the canyon and enter an orientation room with nine or ten strange faces staring back at me. They seem uncertain, wondering perhaps what the hell they’ve just signed up for. Some of them are here because they’ve backpacked the Appalachian Trail and want to try their luck out west. Others are unwilling spouses, sisters, or dads who signed on reluctantly at the urging of a relative. Occasionally, a few of them are in denial about their advancing age and figure that if they can drop one vertical mile in just seven miles of trail, then maybe they still “have it.” You see all types of people who come to a Grand Canyon hike and if there has been one unexpected surprise in this line of work, it’s that people are interesting – especially when thrown hard out of their comfort zone.
The first day of a typical trek to the bottom of the Grand Canyon is devoted to getting to know one another in this classroom setting. I look at their gear and make sure they do not bring too much stuff. (Stuff is heavy, and the lighter you go down, the happier you are). It’s a great exercise to pare down your needs to a bare minimum, but at the same time it’s a fine line between sneaking through the canyon without that hardcover edition of “War and Peace” (camp reading) and leaving your boots behind (it happened once). In the course of looking at all that trail mix and underwear I slowly get a picture of my trail companions. Sometimes it makes you worry when you realize that the last time this person was on a trail was when the Boy Scouts still thought it was a good idea to bring a hatchet on a hike. Most of the time, it gets you really excited to know that you’re about to take people on the trip of a lifetime, one that they will accomplish on their own two feet. I love it.
After a day in class, it’s time to head down the trail. Invariably, someone is late to meet at the appointed time, and more often than not it’s a married couple or the person you had some concerns about the day before. I’ve noticed that folks who fail to show up on time for this little deadline are also the ones who were likely conflicted in their decision to attempt the trip or not. No matter, we’ll deal with that later and it’s time to start.
At the trailhead, people are keen to take a picture of themselves while they’re still clean. I usually do the honors, but oftentimes there are rim-bound individuals nearby who are recruited for the job. This is a great opportunity for me to have a little fun with everyone. If the chubby visitor who soon has nine cameras dangling from their wrist does not ask, I always throw out a baited comment like, “We’re going down for four days!” This usually yields the intended response: “Four days? And you have everything you’ll need in those backpacks?” Thoroughly imbued with confidence, we begin our descent.
The trail starts out steep and never lets up. Occasionally, I’ll look up after descending the Chimney and see that someone is already inordinately behind. Oh-oh, what could that be? So I stop at Oh-Ah Point and wait. I show the others what’s visible from here besides all of creation. We look east towards Desert View and in those 25 miles of unfathomable space numerous side canyons slash their way down to the Colorado River in deep but regular intervals. Between each of these drainages, jagged rows of rock project up from the recesses, with their familiar lineup of weird-looking but spectacular buttes, spires, mesas, knobs, and temples. Yes, even temples. Zoroaster. Vishnu. Brahma. Deva. Isis. Shiva. The list goes on.
Many times in these instances I wish I weren’t a guide. I wish I could be out here on my own, with my own schedule and not constantly having to tell people to keep drinking water or tie their shoelaces. I wish I could just stop here at Oh-Ah Point with my hands crossed and look in perfect reverence at a landscape that I have become intimate with through almost four decades of hiking its trails. In this imaginary solo journey, I am a prayerful and silent worshiper paying homage to bare naked rock—the most essential of all earthly gifts. Nowhere else is rock exposed in such a grand and sublime fashion as here in the Grand Canyon.
But then I come to my senses and realize that were I not a trail guide, I most likely would not be privileged to know the canyon as deeply as I do. It’s a small price to pay to experience this joyful intimacy in the great rock cathedral. I bring others into the temple and while they experience its magnificent beauty and many charms, I become intimate with it in the process. It’s a circular perfection that never seems to lose it’s meaning to me.
Wait a minute—what about “Susie”? I forgot all about her way back up on the trail. She’s missed out on all of these subtle musings as she fussed with her hiking poles or emptied the red dirt from her boots. I’m beginning to worry about the slow pace we’ve started out with and whether we’ll make it to the cantina in time for a cold lemonade. Wanting to speed things up, I ask her, “Hey Susie. How’s it going?” She looks at me, and then the group, and wonders if maybe she should apologize for holding us up. “Come on over here Susie and check this out,” one of her companions exhorts to her. Sure enough, Susie is impressed with the view. But I am far more impressed at the lessons my groups repeatedly teach me on each and every trip—camaraderie on the trail is more important than speed, togetherness is better than aloneness. I smile. It’s going to be a good trip.
I am honored and humbled by this award. Thanks to all, including my wife, Helen.
I was also asked if I would give a short reading from my work. I gave it some thought and decided to pick an excerpt from a new article that will be published next year in a college textbook about Southwest Adventure Careers, and in a slightly different form in, An Anthology of Grand Canyons Hikes. Here is the text to the short story that I read at this event, called:
"On Being A Trail Guide"
How did I get here? In a sentence, I just followed my heart. In high school and even college, I never enrolled in courses with the primary outcome to define a career. I remember feeling incredibly lost as friends all around me identified their life choices at the age of 18 - heck, I didn’t even know that college students majored in something. So I enrolled in classes that solely were interesting to me. I followed my heart and in those wilder and freer days of the early 1970’s, I wandered into and discovered the Grand Canyon. Instead of a career path, I got a footpath. I found satisfaction far beyond a fat paycheck, a fancy car, or a big house. I became a Grand Canyon trail guide.
So what is it like? Many times each year I drive up to the canyon and enter an orientation room with nine or ten strange faces staring back at me. They seem uncertain, wondering perhaps what the hell they’ve just signed up for. Some of them are here because they’ve backpacked the Appalachian Trail and want to try their luck out west. Others are unwilling spouses, sisters, or dads who signed on reluctantly at the urging of a relative. Occasionally, a few of them are in denial about their advancing age and figure that if they can drop one vertical mile in just seven miles of trail, then maybe they still “have it.” You see all types of people who come to a Grand Canyon hike and if there has been one unexpected surprise in this line of work, it’s that people are interesting – especially when thrown hard out of their comfort zone.
The first day of a typical trek to the bottom of the Grand Canyon is devoted to getting to know one another in this classroom setting. I look at their gear and make sure they do not bring too much stuff. (Stuff is heavy, and the lighter you go down, the happier you are). It’s a great exercise to pare down your needs to a bare minimum, but at the same time it’s a fine line between sneaking through the canyon without that hardcover edition of “War and Peace” (camp reading) and leaving your boots behind (it happened once). In the course of looking at all that trail mix and underwear I slowly get a picture of my trail companions. Sometimes it makes you worry when you realize that the last time this person was on a trail was when the Boy Scouts still thought it was a good idea to bring a hatchet on a hike. Most of the time, it gets you really excited to know that you’re about to take people on the trip of a lifetime, one that they will accomplish on their own two feet. I love it.
After a day in class, it’s time to head down the trail. Invariably, someone is late to meet at the appointed time, and more often than not it’s a married couple or the person you had some concerns about the day before. I’ve noticed that folks who fail to show up on time for this little deadline are also the ones who were likely conflicted in their decision to attempt the trip or not. No matter, we’ll deal with that later and it’s time to start.
At the trailhead, people are keen to take a picture of themselves while they’re still clean. I usually do the honors, but oftentimes there are rim-bound individuals nearby who are recruited for the job. This is a great opportunity for me to have a little fun with everyone. If the chubby visitor who soon has nine cameras dangling from their wrist does not ask, I always throw out a baited comment like, “We’re going down for four days!” This usually yields the intended response: “Four days? And you have everything you’ll need in those backpacks?” Thoroughly imbued with confidence, we begin our descent.
The trail starts out steep and never lets up. Occasionally, I’ll look up after descending the Chimney and see that someone is already inordinately behind. Oh-oh, what could that be? So I stop at Oh-Ah Point and wait. I show the others what’s visible from here besides all of creation. We look east towards Desert View and in those 25 miles of unfathomable space numerous side canyons slash their way down to the Colorado River in deep but regular intervals. Between each of these drainages, jagged rows of rock project up from the recesses, with their familiar lineup of weird-looking but spectacular buttes, spires, mesas, knobs, and temples. Yes, even temples. Zoroaster. Vishnu. Brahma. Deva. Isis. Shiva. The list goes on.
Many times in these instances I wish I weren’t a guide. I wish I could be out here on my own, with my own schedule and not constantly having to tell people to keep drinking water or tie their shoelaces. I wish I could just stop here at Oh-Ah Point with my hands crossed and look in perfect reverence at a landscape that I have become intimate with through almost four decades of hiking its trails. In this imaginary solo journey, I am a prayerful and silent worshiper paying homage to bare naked rock—the most essential of all earthly gifts. Nowhere else is rock exposed in such a grand and sublime fashion as here in the Grand Canyon.
But then I come to my senses and realize that were I not a trail guide, I most likely would not be privileged to know the canyon as deeply as I do. It’s a small price to pay to experience this joyful intimacy in the great rock cathedral. I bring others into the temple and while they experience its magnificent beauty and many charms, I become intimate with it in the process. It’s a circular perfection that never seems to lose it’s meaning to me.
Wait a minute—what about “Susie”? I forgot all about her way back up on the trail. She’s missed out on all of these subtle musings as she fussed with her hiking poles or emptied the red dirt from her boots. I’m beginning to worry about the slow pace we’ve started out with and whether we’ll make it to the cantina in time for a cold lemonade. Wanting to speed things up, I ask her, “Hey Susie. How’s it going?” She looks at me, and then the group, and wonders if maybe she should apologize for holding us up. “Come on over here Susie and check this out,” one of her companions exhorts to her. Sure enough, Susie is impressed with the view. But I am far more impressed at the lessons my groups repeatedly teach me on each and every trip—camaraderie on the trail is more important than speed, togetherness is better than aloneness. I smile. It’s going to be a good trip.
I am honored and humbled by this award. Thanks to all, including my wife, Helen.
Wednesday, October 16, 2013
The 2013 Flagstaff Copper Quill Winner Is......
The Friends of the Flagstaff Public Library initiated the Copper Quill Award in 1995, to honor a local writer for their body of work. It is with surprise and humility that I announce that I am to receive this award at a luncheon on October 17 here in Flagstaff. I am honored to be chosen by my peers in a vote taken by the living members of previous winners.
On September 5, I received this e-mail from Holland Christie at the Flagstaff Public Library: It is with great pleasure that I announce the 2013 Copper Quill Award winner, Wayne Ranney!
I was shocked to say the least as I had no inkling that this award was in the works.
A listing of the past winners can be found here. Within this link you can click on the authors name and see their body of work.
Thank you to the 15 living members of this group who chose me to be the 2013 winner. I am honored to be in your esteemed company.
On September 5, I received this e-mail from Holland Christie at the Flagstaff Public Library: It is with great pleasure that I announce the 2013 Copper Quill Award winner, Wayne Ranney!
I was shocked to say the least as I had no inkling that this award was in the works.
Thank you to the 15 living members of this group who chose me to be the 2013 winner. I am honored to be in your esteemed company.
Saturday, October 12, 2013
Grand Canyon National Park Reopens
In an attempt to stave off jet-lag from the African safari trip (which blog report will be continued in the next few days) and stay awake during daylight hours in the Mountain Time Zone, we planned a drive to Grand Canyon National Park to shoot the deserted rim viewpoints. And then word came late yesterday that the park was opening at 8 AM today thanks to a gift from the Arizona Department of Tourism, who had $400,000 diverted from their budget to give (not donate) to open the Park. We drove up anyway, arriving at 9:30, hoping that no one had heard. Fat chance. There were already swarms of people although much lighter than a normal Columbus day weekend. A surprise guest appearance was spotted!
As official residents of the Park, we could have entered during the closed period if we were on official business. A Grand Canyon Association member was donating foodstuffs and toiletries to canyon employees who have been without a paycheck for 11 days. Here Helen and the donor load the goods into our car. It is unimaginable how far and wide this shutdown has reverberated, across entities far removed from the Federal service.
We first went to Mather Point, easily the most visited viewpoint in the Park. The squirrels were even confused - this one had lost all fear of humans - or was he starving from his 11 day diet?
The crowds were lighter than normal but things will be back to normal in no time. We talked to some visitors who were otherwise completing their trips to the west and just happened to hear that the Park was opening. So they hopped in for a view.
Then we heard that there was going to be a surprise speech about the opening.
A few minutes after 11 AM, Governor Jan Brewer walked up to a lecturn to officially announce the gift from the State Tourism department.
Behind Governor Brewer is Grand Canyon National Park Superintendent Dave Uberuaga and on the right is the Mayor of Tusayan, Greg Bryan.
Remarks by Mayor Bryan.
And then the Mayor handed another gift to Governor Brewer.
It was a check for $426,500, apparently from businesses in Tusayan that were dying to have the Park reopened. Governor Brewer expresses her glee upon receiving the check.
Superintendent Uberuaga (Super Dave) reminded the crowd of 60 people who had gathered, that the shutdown has been an enormous burden on everyone even remotely connected to the Park. Heck, I am a freelance trail guide and author without much of a connection to the bureaucracy and I have been affercted with cancelled hikes and loss of book sales in the Park.
Governor Brewer took three questions, I asked one of them. The money is for Grand Canyon only - none of the other Parks or Monuments in Arizona will open at this time
Somehow or another Super Dave got his hands on the check.
The happy crew.
All of the news channels were there to cover the event, which likely will make some of the national feeds tonight.
We think Dave is a fantastic representative for the Park and contrary to some reports, he has been nothing but positive to everyone who has been affected by this. None more that the private boaters in Grand Canyon who planned their trips in some instances for decades, only to have their trips squashed by petty ideologies in Washington DC. Face it folks, our political system is broken and needs fixing.
Grand Canyon is open!
It was unfortunate, in my opinion, that Governor Brewer turned what otherwise was a very festive event into a quick show of political brinkmanship, mentioning on numerous occasions (and in the combative and defiant tone we've heard too often from her), that "the Federal government needs to do their job". The obvious message being that it is Federalism that is at fault here. (Hello, did anyone tell her that Tea Party Republicans are holding the government hostage to make ineffective their own President?). It was amazing that someone in such a high office could give a speech that was so obviously slanted and meant to pick a fight.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)