We're in Botswana now, after crossing the Namibian desert. Here it is much greener and much more like the Africa we imagined. Heading off in dug out canoes for an overnight trip on the delta. There is little or no Internet access or mobile coverage. We have a few minutes at a net cafe now because the truck broke down and we're waiting for the replacement.

More when we reach 'civilization.'

D&E

Next episode: desert camp. Stay tuned...

Pretty Scrawny Penguin

(This from a Net Cafe with an extremely slow connection.) The Bewildered Tourists said farewell to Cape Town with an unsuccessful attempt to visit Robin Island and Table Mountain, (closed due to wind and clouds) and drowned their sorrows by tasting wine at one of the South African vineyards in the district (tough assignment), visiting the Cape of Good Hope, where Doug had Danish Pia in stitches when he drove of an aggressive and soon-to-be confused Baboon with his imitation of an enraged Norwegian-American gorilla. (Heck. He just made myself look big and roared. It works.)

It was cool to walk along the shore of Southwestern Africa's southernmost point, and then to see the world''s scrawniest penguins ... on sorry ...African Penguins. These must be the black sheep of the penguin world, with their small stature, motley feathers and plain colors. That's so at least compared to their aristocratic Antarctic king in sleek tuxedos. Fun though to watch the African birds waddle and clumsily slide along the rocks.

Our trek started when Milton, our guide from Zimbabwe, herding us out to the truck with our backpacks. (Doug had a sad farewell with Lizzie the Dog, a resident of the Cape Town Inn. Of course, Doug always has a sad farewell with any nice dog anywhere.) The Truck _ officially the Safari Vehicle _ is a Man heavy truck with a kitchen and storage area on the cargo bed, with an Aquarium designed to house human tourists grafted on top of that. We're not quite sure whether the wildlife is on display, or whether we are being driven around to show them what European tourists look like. Who cares?

The Truck is designed for 16 passengers, but only five of us, Eva, Doug, Pia of Denmark, Morris of Australia and Rubin of Germany, so we can hardly complain of overcrowding. We headed north, stopping only for essential supplies (read that 'beer' in Doug case. Eva also bought a little wine.) Off. Off. Off. Into the wilds.

Yippee. D&E

Link to the overland tour:

http://www.drifters.com/index.asp?pgid=65

Sand...sand and more sand...

Walking dune 45 in the Namibian desert at 7.30 AM after 3.5 hours driving in The Truck. Believe it or not, it was also BC (Before Coffee).

D&E

Sleep like a lion

The idea of sleeping like a baby never seemed appealling. Waking up several times a night wet and crying? No thanks. ''Sleeping like a log" maybe or ''Sleeping like a rock."

In Milton's case. Yawn. Stretch. ''I slept like a lion.''
Huh? Restless? Prowling through the night? Nope.
''A lion has nothing to worry about. He has nothing to fear. He is the king of everything.''
May you all sleep like lions tonight.

D&E

Wind, waves and the newly re-named Guide Killer Rapids

SOUTH AFRICA/NAMIBIA The farther we got from cosmopolitan Cape Town, the more impressed we were with the standard of the infrastructure in South Africa. Good roads. Real towns. Pretty nice, apart from the shabby ''informal settlements'' (slums in plain English).

Milton is the Renaissance Man of the guiding world. He drives the truck, cooks our meals, helps us set up tents, points out the sights, makes us laugh and -- from now on -- lives in fear of missing a road sign. Which he did on our fist day because the winds in the northern part of South Africa blew it away. Anyway, we got some extra sightseeing in, including a stop at a South African farm where he braved the world's largest dog to go ask the farmer for directions. We -- er make that -- he found our camping spot on a little outcrop with a great view of land that was becoming more and more arid, and more and more like a lunar landscape.

Milton showed us how to set up a tent, and sent us off to set up our our own accommodations, while he lit the campfire and made a chicken dinner that couldn't be beat. It was a great start to our trek. We all went to bed and slept soundly. For about three hours, that is.

Out of nowhere, the Mother of All Winds (maybe it just felt like that) rammed our tents like a runaway train. Pia, 58, and Morris, 65, gave up when their tents blew down and sought refuge on the floor of the truck. Doug and Eva spent the night acting as human ballast to keep their tent from blowing away. Rubin, the 27 year old German, discovered that his tent had blown down around him, and quoted himself later as saying ''Ja. That's OK'' and going back to sleep.

In the morning, it was still blowing so hard that it took all six of us to hold down and fold each tent. (Pia's was recovered from the ravine). It was blowing so hard that it nearly tore the door off the truck. Eva was also stunned by a discovery: Doug was involved in everything from rescuing tents to repairing truck doors at 7 am BC (before coffee.) She had never seen anything like it, and would not have believed it possible.

After saying something like ''I'm an artist. I can't work under conditions like this", Milton loaded us into the truck, and took us to Springbok for breakfast at a Wimpy and repairs to the truck door that wouldn't open.

Then things started to get better. After passing through immigration control for Namibia (is there some kind of drab, rundown standard set for all border posts everywhere in the developing world?) A few kilometers (miles) away, we started our overnight canoe trek. Each of us was issued a bucket with a lid, for sleeping bags and such.We loaded the canoes and set up into the first rapids.

Milton and Pia shared a canoe. Pia had hurt her back, had a cold, and had an expensive camera around her neck. Naturally, their canoe capsized 30 seconds into the trek, so they and the boat were rescued by young men practicing extreme swimming in rapids, which Rubin re-named ''Guide Killer Rapids'' in honor of Milton.

Anyway, we did make it down the river, cooked out (okay it was Milton and the river guide Michael who cooked out) and ... all of us exhausting from the Night of Wind, we call fell asleep in the sand under the stars at about 9 pm. Doug could not believe his luck when Mrs. M brought him coffee in bed, or would that be coffee in sleeping bag. Eva and Pia went for a morning swim in the warm river and then we headed downstream again, sometimes swimming next to the canoes in the warm water.

The next morning, we were back in The Truck, headed north to the Desert Camp, for a chapter to be told as soon as we find time an Internet again.

D&E

Wind and water

Southern Namiba: So here's the 30-second update (Just bought a few minutes at a wi-fi hot spot with a slow connection.) Our tents blew down in a wild wind storm in northern South Africa. Some tents blew down the ravine and had to be retrived. It took all six of us to fold each tent, since they were trying hard to become sails.

Now in southern Namibia, looking at the Orange River (Africa's second longest) , where we are about to BBQ after two days of canoeing down the river, and sleeping out under the stars. And what stars, with no lights around for miles.

More when we reach 'Civilization.'

D&E