In the Devil's back yard

HOBART, Tasmania _ We knew two things about the Australian island of Tasmania before landing here. It is the finish line for the Sydney-Hobart sailing race. And it is the home of the devil.

A third thing struck us our first evening there, eating seafood at the Mure Upper Deck restaurant in the rain: Have we travelled to the far side of the world from Norway to get to Skagen, Denmark? The feeling was uncannily like a Danish port village.

We'd been in doubt about Tasmania, because the weather forecast, rainy and cool, sounded a bit too much like summer in Scandinavia. But we went for it.

And Hobart felt good. It fit, like a favorite old shoe.

Speaking of old shoes. Doug's beloved old sandals were laid to eternal rest in Hobart due to terminal odor. Eva had refused to allow them indoors anymore unless they were sealed in plastic. Doug tried various ploys, including washing them and hiding them, but knew the jig was up when Eva found a new pair of sandals on sale. So, farewell old friends. You survived being stolen by jackals in Namibia, but could not get past The Nose.

D&E needed a day off from sightseeing, so we just hung around the quaint streets of Hobart. The next day, we went kayaking around the harbor, even eating fish and chips while afloat, something that appears to be something of a local tradition. (They have floating take-out restaurants).

We got back into tourist mode with a full day tour of Port Arthur. Well worth it. In the morning, we cruised the waters of Tasmania, checking out wildlife, including seals, penguins, dolphins, as well as staggering scenery, and stunning cliffs that seemed to burst from the sea. We even went into water filled caves. The afternoon was spent at Port Arther, a prison compound for the hardest English and Irish convicts from about 1830 until 1877. The whole compound, with houses,prisons, churches and all was fascinating, but the greatest impression were the tiny cells, measuring 1.3 meters by 2.10 meters (4X7 feet), and the tiny stalls in the church where convicts were forced to stand for sermons, with the preacher able to see them while the convicts could not see each other.

We picked up our rental car and Doug was delighted that Avis upgraded them to a high-performance, high-powered Ford Falcon XR6. The car led to whoops – of joy or terror, depending which seat you were in. But enough on that. We're back on speaking terms.

Eva continued finding the coolest places to stay as we headed up the east coast. In Richmond, she found a vineyard that rented out suites. It was memorable (the plush red curtains, green ceiling, four-poster bed and own garden). We enjoyed this old and vaguely royal suite so much that we decreed that dinner would be taken in our chambers.

A bit father up the coast, we rented a cabin near Swansea. It also had its own yard, so we put bought shellfish for dinner and gorged ourselves out in the garden.

And then there was Wineglass Bay, in Freycinet National Park. That steep and tough 2.5 hour walks, with maybe 700 steps up and then 700 down, exposed two things: 1) D&E's physical condition is slightly less than optimal, 2) We showed a lack of and judgement not only by forgetting to bring wine and glasses to Wineglass Bay, but also by running short of water. Half of the D&E team did enter the frigid water for a swim. Guess which one?

We loved Tassie, but were quite stunned by the amount of road kill of wildlife. We may have seen a Tasmania Devil but – if so – it was only as a black patch of fur on the road.

Thank you Tasmania!

Bruce and Sheila

''G'day, g'day, g'day''

MELBOURNE, Australia – The expressions ''G'day, g'day, g'day'' and ''Beer O'Clock'' come from this Australian metropolis, at least for D&E. But ''hang on a tick,'' more on that later.

The Travellers arrived here after midnight, and went straight to their apartment-hotel in the center of town. Didn't see much at night, but it would be love at first sight in the morning. Melbourne seems to have gotten this whole city 'thing' right, a great mix of urbane and laid back even though it was gearing up for the Australia open tennis.

Eva was especially pleased by all the street artwork downtown, while Doug found it highly pleasant just to walk around, take a ferry ride , ride the tram (trolley) and have a beer in an outdoor cafe.

Melbourne is also, probably, the only place in Australia where D&E had acquaintances ahead of arrival. There was Simon, a colleague of Doug's from the 2008 Olympics in China who officially declared the time of ''Beer O'clock each afternoon'', and Morrie (Morris) from the Africa trek, who got D&E started saying ''G'day, g'day, g'day'' rather than ''Cheese'' each time they posed for a picture.

Simon is a British journalist who was travelling around the world a decade ago and never made it past Australia. That sort of serendipity in planning appeals to Doug, and they hit if off in China, and caught up over lunch in Melbourne.

The next day, Morrie, ''a young 65,'' came into town to pick us up. Morrie took early retirement as a math teacher, and has been spending the past decade or so in a determined and impressive quest to see the world's key sights, such as Antarctica and southern Africa. We're not sure if he was pleased or discouraged when we mentioned that the polar bears of Norway's Svalbard Islands were missing from his list, so we expect to see him along our fjords shortly after he does Burma.

Anyway, Morrie took us to his home to dump our backpacks, and the drove us up into the forests for a fantastic hike, which included close encounters with cockatoo birds. He also made us his speciality Morrie's Baked Salmon for dinner, took us for another walk, and made us feel right at home. The next morning, he drove us up to the Healesville Sanctuary, where we got the see the whole assortment of Australian wildlife, including koalas, Tasmanian Devils and wombats.

There would be peace on earth if every country had its fair share of wombats.

After our one of our best days in Australia _ when we saw more in 24 hours than in a week on our own _ he took us to the airport for our next leg, Hobart, Tasmania. Thanks Morrie!

Thanks Melbourne!

Bruce and Sheila

On the road again

PERTH, Western Australia_ G'day. We've figured out why everyone around here seems so friendly. Flies.

All that waving isn't a friendly greeting. It's called the 'Australian Salute' -- waving one hand in front of you face to keep the flies away. (We also suspect that the smiles are just teeth barred to keep the flies out of your mouth.)

But we're getting ahead of ourselves.

Be teleported, back in time and space to the airport in Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia. Stunned Eva runs into her cousin, Trond and his family, who is on the same flight to Perth. There is an inflight reunion.

Anyway, at the Perth airport, Eva confessed to customs that she was in possession of elephant dung paper. It was confiscated as ''unidentified plant'' matter, not surprising, since elephants do eat a lot of plant matter.

We picked up our 4X4 camper (immediately named Dexter because of his license plate 1DEX 712), near Perth. Dexter is a 2006 Toyota Hi-Lux pickup truck with a camper back. Doug was horrified to see that it had been driven 206,000 kilometers (128,000 miles) in rough terrain by careless renters and hoped the rattling sound from the clutch bearing was normal.

Each day, when getting behind the wheel in this drive-on-the-left-side-of-the-road country, Doug would chant ''Right is the new left.'' A right turn in Australia is like a left turn in the real world.

D&E were pleased and excited about getting settled into Dex (a bit like being on the boat) and to be fending for themselves in the outback for 15 days. That fantasy was short-lived, with outback temperatures hitting 50C (122 F) in Australian summer. Instead, we headed south to the cooler coast. (South was also the new North)

And, by the way, the clutch smelled burned.

Another thing we hadn't counted we were setting off at the peak of the summer vacation season, and peak of peak, on the New Year's Eve long weekend. Everything was full, and we were just thankful to find a spot at all. We fell asleep before midnight and only stirred slightly to cheers of our friendly neighbors. Oh well.

The whole thing of crowded campgrounds, was getting us down, after traveling through the wilds of southern Africa and staying on secluded beaches in Thailand. And, by the way, the clutch smelled burned.

However, it was interesting to note the Australian style of camping, which was to haul an staggering amount of gear (like campers, tents, boats and offroad motorcycles) behind a Toyota Land Cruiser diesel, and then built a sprawling encampment designed to last for weeks.

At Yallingup, a popular beach area, people were amazed that we were 'lucky' enough to get the last camping spot (next to the toilets) when they had booked a year earlier. And when we tried to swim in the huge waves, it was like getting mugged by water and left with nothing but a bathing suit full of sand.

And, by the way, the clutch smelled burned.

Things started to look up at Margaret River, a delightful tourist town, where we got a nice camp spot and went on a wine tasting tour by bus. That evening we used an outdoor cooking appliance to roast some venison with new found friends Thomas and Donna from South Africa.

Finally, finally, finally, at Windy Harbor, D&E were going to drop Dex into low range four-wheel-drive and head along a sandy 4x4 track to a remote campsite.

''This is not really my cup of tea,'' Eva noted, as Dex slid sideways at a 30 degree tilt through the deep sand of the narrow track and Doug kept his foot on the gas because losing momentum would mean sinking into the sand and getting stuck.

And, by the way, the clutch smelled burned.

So we turned back at first opportunity and camped at yet another crowded campground.

Dex held out long enough to get us in some beautiful national forests, and as far a Orleans Bay, near one of Australians 10 best beaches. So much for heading south! It was the hottest place in Australia at 47 degrees (116F), but as we sat in the comfort of Dex's air conditioned cabin, we though with glee ... um ... sympathy about our friends in Oslo suffering minus 27 (-17).

It became clear: Dex was not going to make it back to Perth without a new clutch. We called the rental company, and told them we would try to make it to Esperance, the main town about 80 kilometers (50 miles) away

There are worse places to be stuck than Esperance. Beautiful beaches, and we had one of the best meals of our trek at the Loose Goose restaurant. Since we would be stuck through the weekend, we signed up for a wildlife cruise and night in a tent out on Woody Island. It was great fun, with hiking and snorkeling.

By the time Dex was repaired on Monday afternoon, our time was running out. Finally, we got to spend a night in a national park, but then had to high-tail it back to Perth, stopping only at the amazing Wave Rock. Hate to say it, but we were relieved to return Dex.

Believe it or not, we had fun, probably because we had no plan, no idea where we wanted to go, and no idea whether faithful but decrepit Dex would make it there anyway. So we played it by ear, which _ we seem to recall _ was the whole point of this 95 day exercise in the first place.

So, after a night at a wonderful bed and breakfast in wonderful Fremantle, it was off to Melbourne by air. But that's a different story.

Thanks Western Australia (Thanks to you too Dex)

Bruce and Sheila

D&E's Science Class

SHOCKER! Australians' dirty little secret - BBQ habits - exposed!

ORLEANS BAY, Australia _ Ahead of arriving here, down under, Doug was excited about going to the Mecca of BBQing. You know, ''G'day Mate. Let's throw a couple prawns on the Barbie'' and such.

Brace yourselves. It's A LIE!.

At first, Doug thought it was a fluke, an error, a terrible, horrifying, painful misunderstanding. That thing, that abomination, at the first campground's BBQ area (ha ha) was not really a BBQ. It was a large skillet or frying pan, heated by gas in this case.

There were no coals. At no time was the meat or other food exposed to smoke or the heat of coals, There was no cooking grate, just this large, built in frying pan.

Here, from the Websters New World Collegiate Dictionary: A definition:

''barbecue to prepare (meat) outdoors by roasting on a spit or broiling on a grill, usually over a charcoal fire.''

So we're all clear on that? Charcoal. Gas grills are, if necessary, an acceptable substitute, should conditions demand that.

But in Australia? Oh, no, no no. They use the gas to heat a large outdoor skillet. And one campground they had an ELECTRIC _ perish the thought _ skillet they were trying to pass off as a BBQ.

Doug was trying to be a gracious guest, until he got here to Orleans Bay, where he paid 15 dollars (about 100 kroner) to rent a 'BBQ' – ha!. In this case you fired up the abomination with wood, but those coals just heated a skillet. AT NO TIME was the food in contact with smoke, or coals or flames.

Humanity. Rise up. The international community can no long accept this. Australians must be forced to mend their ways, or at the very least be truthful in describing their disgusting cooking practices.

Unless they repent, they can no longer be allowed to use to term BBQ but must speak the truth by saying, for example, 'G-Day mate. Let's thrown a couple prawns on the outdoor cooking appliance.''

Bruce and Sheila

Lose weight without diet or excercise!

Welcome to Oz, sharks, snakes, spiders and all

PERTH, Australia _ Doug and Eva have always dreamed of going to Australia because ... um ... ah ... it's far away and has kangaroos, wombats, nice beaches and friendly people who say ''G'day'' all the time.

Our first impression: It's a lot like America except people drive on the wrong side of the road and talk funny.

Anyway, reading up on Australia gave D&E a number of reasons NOT to want to go to Australia. These include: Sharks, crocodiles and venomous sea snakes, deadly jellyfish, marine creatures with poisonous spikes, killer sting-rays and the deadly blue-ringed octopus.

Plus large waves, rip tides, and undercurrents and out of control surfers.

So the safe bet is dry land, right? Not a chance.

On land, there is an impressive assortment of venomous snakes, including the Death Adder, and deadly spiders like the red back or the funnelweb.

Everyone tells you ''No worries'' about getting bitten because you will probably survive if you make it to a hospital within two hours. Great! The only thing less than two hours from a hospital in Australia is the hospital itself.

You can also die from the heat and thirst. Like being stuck at 50C (120F) in a part of the outback so remote that the most recent vehicle to pass was a road train last month.

Road trains? Talk about danger. When you see one of these these rigs roaring along with its string of trailers at near at a gazillion miles (1.6 gazillion kilometers) an hour, just ''Get off the road and wait, mate.''

There also seem to be a lot of road signs warning about the dangers of drinking and driving or driving when tired, suggesting that a lot of Australians need to be warned.

And wildfires spread instantly. And dingos.

On the other hand, there are signs of an advanced civilization here. For example, Australians have English Muffins, eggs Benedict, stakes of pancakes, with syrup, eggs and bacon, good beer, fine wine, all cheap and in huge portions. And there is cheap fuel, cheap cars, and great roads, which means you never have to walk anywhere.

We can see it now. Mr and Mrs M are fleeing a wildfire in their rented truck. A tired, drunk Australian sideswipes their car. The two Ms climb out of the wreck but have grown so fat from all the Aussie 'Tucker'' that all they can manage is a hurried waddle toward the coast, where all the venomous snakes and spiders have already gathered to get away from the flames.

So what then? Stay on the beach to be burned or bitten to death? Race into the ocean so the rip tides can make you shark food?

As we say in Norway ''Det kan gå bra'' --- ''it could go well'.

We'll see. Hello Oz.

Bruce and Sheila

Flashback Thailand

PLANET EARTH (Bangkok Unit) _ Ok. Look, We are hopelessly behind on this blog because _ frankly _ Eva seems hung up on the idea that this trip should be 'fun' and 'relaxing.' Sorry about that. We'll try to better ourselves..

So even though we have been in Australia long enough to have started calling everyone ''Mate'' and say ''G'day'' and 'No worries'' absolutely all the time, here is the 10 cent tour of our wonderful weeks in Thailand,

We landed in Bangkok, exhausted after an absurd route (Joburg-Qatar-Bangkok) and arrived at what turned out to be the World's Best Hotel (for us) the Chatrium Suites on the river in Bangkok. Now Mr and Mrs M have travelled a lot but this five star hotel (at a bargain 'Net price) beats everything.

We arrive at about 8 am after an overnight flight. The bellman seized our baggage and they found us a room (top floor overlooking the pool and the river) immediately. They also immediately gave us a late checkout time. Did I say room? Silly me. Suite. Kitchen. Bathtub. Balcony.

Bustling Bangkok was a bit of a shock after rural Africa. But we explored a bit. By taxi and by boat. There were golden Buddhas and temples, and market, and crowds.

Doug, as usual, suffered an immediate shopping overdose. But he rallied when the shopping came around to finding a cheap guitar for the rest of the trip. It seemed hopeless until Eva thought to ask a local band that was playing at a local shopping center. They knew and pointed D&E to a shop a block away where Doug bought what was probably a cheap imitation of a cheap guitar. But it has six strings and makes noise.

After a few days, D&E took the night train (second class) to Trang. It seems like it would be difficult for a train to crash into itself repeatedly. But this one did. All through the night, To paraphrase John Denver ''We didn't get much sleep but we had a lot of fun.''

At the end of the trek, Mr. Jack – a Thai Rasta with the dreadlocks and hat and all – was waiting to drive us to the coast, and the longtail boat taking us to our now-beloved paradise of Co-Co Cottage in the island of Koh Ngai.

It was paradise. Our own little bamboo shack on the beach. The world's (maybe just the island's) best restaurant, and a staff that became more like our family after 10 days (Thank you. Mr. Moo. Thank you Pran. Thank you, especially, Paew).

D&E sunbathed (Never seen Mrs, M browner). They snorkeled along the reefs (astonishing like swimming in a fish tank). They swam and dined and drank drinks with little umbrella's in them. And they met South Africans. (More on what seems to be the theme of this later.) They had Thai massages, a sort of cross between physiotherapy and Sumo wrestling.

On arrival the staff of this tiny resort noticed the new guitar. Doug was not going to be let off the hook. At the end of the first meal, Mr. Moo (we're not making up the name) handed Doug the bar guitar. Mr. M took up the challenge, and sang ''Never been to Spain'' and about a dozen more songs without anyone threatening him with violence or throwing things.

So. Mr M became part of the regular evening entertainment together with Trong on guitar and Pawn on bongos and kazoo (the local stars).

We wanted to stay longer but, on Dec. 24, as Christmas stories say of Bethlehem 2009 years earlier, there was no room at the Inn. We headed for Kuala Lumpur by boat, car, plane and taxi.

You have seen our Christmas eve...

Thank You Thailand!!

D&E

Kristmas in Kuala

We're not done with Thailand's blogs, so here's a glimpse of our Christmas in Malaysia. (Eva was homesick!)

Merry Yule

Here, a Thai Christmas Tree. Hey. It's the thought that counts!

Our love and best wishes to all.

D&E

Out of Africa

JOHANNESBURG _ It seemed like the road would go on forever. It didn't. It just went for 7350 kilometers, (4567 miles) through five countries – South Africa, Namibia, Botswana, Zambia and Zimbabwe - in over 24 days. More. A month if you count the time Eva and Doug spent in Cape Town and Joburg before and after the trek.

Sometimes that road did seem to go forever. Across the white sand deserts of Namibia, with Milton in the cab and the rest of us in the truck as he drove and we bounced and he drove and we bounced toward a horizon that we never quite seemed to reach. More or less the same in Botswana, until the road started to climb and twist and turn in the hills leading to lush and troubled Zimbabwe.

The days also seemed to last forever, packing our gear and heavy tents before dawn (even worse Before Coffee) so we would could make an impossibly long drive that day. But Milton seemed to know just when to stop (OK. Once, we heard a passenger shout ''I need to go. NOW'')

And the days would be broken up by one astonishing adventure, one amazing sight, and one exotic animal after another.

This would be capped by The Marvelous Milton. our large and unstopably jovial Zimbabwean guide, driver, cook, and good buddy. He'd whip up a gourmet lunch under the shade of a tree at the side of a desolate and windblown road in about two minutes and then outdo himself on the open fire of a campsite while making yet another great dinner. (Doug, who loves to BBQ, only got to help three times: peeling some butternuts, BBQing chicken and beef, and roasting bananas)

The trek was just a sampling of southern Africa. Every stop was too short, because each ''next attraction'' was just too far down the road toward that ever distant horizon. It was like going to a wine tasting _ try a little bit of everything and go back for the best ones later.

So far this blog feels like it has missed out on more than we have reported. Too much. Too fast and waaaay slow. (Glacial internet that is. When we could log on at all.)

Did we mention the pride of lions we saw lounging near the water hole? No? Didn't think so. How about flying the small plane over huge herd of elphants iover the Okavango Delta? No. Not that either? Did we say anything about the friendship that grew from the trials, tribulations and triumphs? The great dinner at Doug's long-time colleague Donna's house in Joburg? Thought so. Too much. Too fast. Too slow.

And if there was a lesson, it's one Doug's mother tried to drum into him and that was summed up in the sign on her kitchen wall. ''Use it up, wear it out, make it do or do without.'

Milton never threw away a scrap of food. What he couldn't keep them he would give away: To campsite workers, other guides, park workers, and if necessary passers by.

''Waste not, want not.'' It made us rich Westerners reflect on the waste of our own wasteful, wasteful lifestyle. Shame on us.

Near the end of the trek, we saw we could not eat the snacks and drink the soft drinks we had brought before the trek ended. So we made up a gift bag for Mr. Brown, who earns about 400 rand (70 US dollars a month) looking after a remote campsite we used in southern Zimbabwe. The bag contained crackers, cookies, candy, two bottles of Coke, and a brand new shirt that was too small for Doug. It also contained 2 dollars.

Mr. Brown was clearly delighted and moved. Delighted by the food, a treat for his family. Moved by the crisp new, checkered, button-down shirt. He took it out of the bag, held it up for inspection, and -smiling – declared ''I'm going to look like a president.''

It was the same the whole way. What we saw as being worthless, they saw as a treasure. Our unwanted food was ther feast.

So we'll be back. Next time with an extra bag of old socks, shirts, pants, and shoes that we might have thrown out at home. Do the same if you ever go.

Thank you Africa. Next stop Thailand.

D&E

D&E's - Name That Animal!

Falling in love with a whole country

BULAWAYO, Zimbabwe _ When looking at the itinerary for the trip, Doug was more than a little skeptical about Zimbabwe. It is failed state, thanks to Robert Mugabe. Having survived hot combat as a reporter in numerous war zones _ like Iraq and Afghanistan _ Doug thought it would be very annoying to be killed in a food riot while on vacation.

Zimbabwe is in disarray. Its economy has collapsed. They have given up on their own currency and use US dollars. Unemployment has hit more than 70 percent, and what was once the breadbasket of Southern Africa has become the basket case of Southern Africa. 100 dollars a month would be considered good pay.

All that is true and yet it is still one of the most wonderful places on Earth. It is beautiful. D&E felt more welcome and safer than anywhere else in Southern Africa. People were friendly, smart and well educated.

The first stop was the town of Victoria Falls. Tourist Trap! It was safe enough, but walking anywhere mean running the guantlet of trinket sellers. The falls themselves were spectacular.

It was in Vic Falls that Doug and Eva broke away from the pack on our free day. After realizing that the planned trip hugged the border of Botswana but did not go into Zambia, Doug insisted on crossing the Victoria Falls bridge (from 1903) and setting foot on his father's second homeland, Zambia.

Fellow travellors thought we were nuts. But it went without a hitch. Passport control in Zimbabwe and Zambia were effortless both ways, and we hired a cab to take us into the town of Livingstone, Zambia. Doug marked the occasion by sending Zambia post cards to his brother in the US and mother in Norway.

After another long day on the road, we ended up at the remote wilderness Ivory Camp at Hwange, where we upgraded from a tent to the cabin for 20 dollars. As the only couple on the trek, D&E got the cabin on stilts with a bathrub that … we couldn't believe it … overlooked a waterhole used by the animals.

Milton prepared another of his 'can't be beat' dinners, but Doug declined to hang around the campfire afterward, saying 'I've seen plenty of campfires but never a cabin like the one we have for one night. Bye bye.''

The next day we met Ian the guide. But that's a whole other story.

We will be back, and aren't kidding about wanting a vacation home here.

D&E

Walking with (running from?) rhinos

MATOBO, Zimbabwe _ Our guide, Ian, is a 13th generation southern African, after his British ancestors moved to South Africa in 1790. He grew up on a farm nearby and calls the national park here his own backyard. He also calls the rhinos his family, since he knows all of their names and has known many of them since birth. He clearly mourns the passing of each one, especially those killed by poachers for the animal's horn, which can be worth 500,000 dollars on the black market. Ian is one of the world's best guides. According to the British magazine Wanderlust, he is, in fact, fourth best in the world. It's hard to imagine how good the three others must be.

A tour with Ian differs from other wildlife tours. He prides himself on getting his trekkers closer to rhinos and other wildlife than any guide in the world. He does just that and is famous for it.

To tag along with Ian, you have to be ready to fling youself on the ground or climb the nearest tree or sprint if a rhino charges. ''You'd be amazed at the reserves of energy you can summon up,'' he said. For another, you get within what seems like petting distance of an animal as big and powerful as a tank.

We didn't have to run, but we did our share of creeping around. He got us within a few meters of a rhino family. The male was very aware that it was breeding season. The female, with her exasperated signs, let him know she was not in the mood.

''We don't have to worry about him,'' says Ian. ''If he runs anywhere, it will be away from her.'' It's not just the rhinos that make Ian a guide apart. He points our everything from dung beetles to elephants and plants that can be use use to heal or to kill.

Around the campfire later, they discover that Doug and Ian share a passion from ancient British cars. Ian has a collection of Land Rovers, including a first prototype from 1948.

D&E

Just like my daddy done

OKAVANGO DELTA, Botswana – For Doug, this is just too cool. Gliding past the hippos and through the weeds in a dugout Mekoro canoe.
His father used to tell stories of heading up rivers in these in the 1930s and '40s. Doug seems to recall him tell about how they had to shoot a baby hippo because it was playing with the boat. Capsizing here makes you dinner. The crocodiles, you see.

We glide through what seems like an ocean of lily pads and reeds. Finally, reach the wilderness camp, where Milton and the local guides have set up the tents for us for the first and last time. (By the way, the tents were a nice example of teamwork. Milton – the professional – asked Doug to time how long he used to set up at tent. 9 minutes. By working together, the other five tourists could set up one tent in less than 2.5 minutes.) They even built us a stylish ''rest room'' (see picture above).

As evening falls. Milton points out that ''This is a dangerous place. And whatever is out there can come in here.''

Food for thought at 3 am when you kinda have to go to the bathroom a little bit but hear lions roaring, elephants trumpeting and hyenas laughing.

Way too early the next morning (BC – Before Coffee) we set off on foot (the evening before we had quickly closed in on some elephants, failing to immediately notice the hyena behind us.) This morning we realy did see notta (not a thing) and headed back to the camp to pack up and have breakfast.

Then we hit the offroad aboard 'The Monster' – a huge 4X4 Unimog truck designed for offroad.

D&E

Not for use in temperatures over 30C (85F)

BRANDBERG, NAMIBIA _ This place is fittingly named Brandberg – Fire Mountain.
It is about 42 degrees C (105F), it is midday and we head up the mountain to see the Bushman paintings, drawings on the rock walls done between 2,000 and 7,000 years ago. The most famous painting is 'The White Lady' although later research revealed that it was really ''The White Man.''

Later, locals would tell us that heading up Fire Mountain in the midday sun was A) Stupid. B) Insane. C) Insanely stupid. So, like mad dogs and Englishmen, we headed out in the midday sun.
Jurgen, our Tamara tribe guide, kept saying ''Too hot.' The trek is supposed to take about 90 minutes round trip. It takes nearly twice that because Jurgen keeps stopping to cool off his charges in the shadows up trees and to say ''Too hot.''

Everybody's hot. But Eva - ''I'm built for snow'' - is overheating. Doug offers to take the little backback she was carrying. She snaps and growls and he jumps back, narrowly avoiding having his arm turned into a stump.

About halfway up, Eva is dumping a bottle of drinking water on her head. Doug, from a safe distance, points out that if she keeps doing that we might all die of thirst.

We made it and it was worth it. The drawings are slowly fading away but the White Lady from Namibia is there. So is the White Hot Lady from Norway.

That evening, Doug notes that everyone was afraid of Eva. ''Oh don't be silly,'' she says, and then looks around to to see everyone nodding.

The group agrees to have Eva labled with the warning ''Not for use in temperatures over 30C (85F)''

D&E

That's a lot of seals!

When Milton said ''a lot of seals'' we didn't realize he meant ''A LOT of seals'' unil we got to Cape Cross, on our way north from Swakopmund to our next campground at Spitskop, Namibia.

We've never seen so many seals. And they were all talking at the same time. We were lucky, says Milton, that there was a stiff breeze to blow the worst of the stink away.

D&E

Beer is the Answer

African heat and beer go together like ... um ... houses and big mortages, or something like that. So Doug saw the chance to do some missionary work for BASTURDS (the Beer Appreciation Society for Totally UnRestricted Discussion) during the trip.

The BASTURDS motto is clear and indisuptable: ''Beer is the Answer.''

So Doug pointed this out repeatedly to his fellow trekkers, until they saw the light.

By the end of the trek, at the end of each day, they were all saying 'Let's have an answer or two..''

And our official trek T-shirts? You can see for yourself.

D&E

Hot and cold ... or make that cool

It seems like the Namibian desert never ends until ... bam ... it does precisely that just shy of the Atlantic Ocean. The change from the sweltering heat of the sands to the lush green and cool of Swakopmund (a coastal town of German origin) was staggering. After four nights in our tents, we spent two at an inn. With beds. Nice change.

Ruben from Germany complains about the cold. OK it's cool (like 22C (70F)) compared to the heat of the desert, but let's not forget the weather back home in the far north. Freezing. Sub-freezing. Sub DEEP freezing.

No one is interested in the activities on offer (for pay) like skydiving, or quad biking, a week into our trek. We all just want a day off, hang out, shop and have beers.

Doug especially likes the quotes from the menu at the Village Cafe, like ''I do not have a problem with caffeine. I have a problem without caffeine.''

Eva has an upset stomach and tries the German cure:. (See video)
D&E

Oh, and let us introduce us

By the way, this who we are. (from left to right)

Man Truck, age 5 1/2, South Africa

Morris, 65, Australia

Ruben, 27, Germany,

Eva, 45, Norway

Doug, 55, Norway/USA

Pia, 58, Denmark.

Milton, 20-something, Zimbabwe