Bad Rabbit Studio

28/06/2024

🌍✨ It's been a whirlwind few weeks 🇿🇼

Now that I'm officially a one-person production team, I can confirm with you that it is not easy and I do face ‘obstacles’ (more on this later), but it's definitely possible for the Bad Rabbit Studio show to go on - I’m managing the workload and honestly I think I'm actually thriving as a one man band. Back on home soil in Zimbabwe after traveling to Angola and South Africa, I have hit the ground running. Over the past few weeks, I’ve collaborated with the Australian Embassy in Zimbabwe, capturing stories of how Australian Aid is bolstering climate change resilience here. It has been interesting and enjoyable work.

OK! back to these ‘obstacles' I mentioned earlier. During my travels with the Aussies I've been reading Ryan Holiday's book, 'The Obstacle Is the Way'. The book basically delves into Stoic philosophy, advocating that obstacles in life aren't barriers to avoid, but rather opportunities for growth, learning, and ultimately achieving true happiness and reaching your fullest potential. I am going to go all in on this philosophy not only here at Bad Rabbit Studio, but also in life generally. So despite the challenges of working solo, I am telling myself that it’s not something that is hindering me but actually it is the opposite, it is growing me and its something for me to embrace and seek out - I do feel that I'm evolving and improving as a filmmaker and storyteller as a result of it. I'm developing a unique skill set - able to execute high-quality Conservation/NGO work in remote, challenging environments across Southern Africa, handling entire projects independently which minimises administrative hassle and costs for clients. Moreover, in the often skeptical rural communities of Southern Africa, I can seamlessly blend in with a small mirrorless camera, getting the job done without unnecessary attention. I don’t think there are many of us out there who have these skills and experience, people who can do an entire project from pre production, to production, to post production as just one individual and do it all to a fairly decent standard. So yes I do suppose I offer something unique and that can only be a good thing for Bad Rabbit Studio right? Who knows but honestly I am going to continue just winging it and seeing where this all goes - when I started Bad Rabbit Studio 10 years ago I had never studied or had any experience whatsoever in the photography/videography service that I was offering - I truly was learning on the job (my apologies to the first 100 or so clients) and I’ve made it this far so why not just keep it up? Let's be honest, everyone from the President of the United States, to me and everyone in-between are all completely winging it and hoping for the best. Thats life!

Right! I have reached a point in this write up where I can’t even remember why I started writing it? Winging it again! I did warn you that my writing would not match Jo’s. Lets just say I wanted to give you and update on Bad Rabbit work and as a bonus I threw in a book recommendation. Thanks to the Australian Embassy for the opportunity.

Chat soon, Buck

28/05/2024

I’d lost Buck in his pea green shirt right at the very start of the run and hoped I might get lucky and see him at the first aid station, stuffing his run vest with the free race nutrition just as I had, like the good and proper Zimbabwean I am. Who lets an opportunity like this go by and not take advantage of all the sweetened/ salty available calories? But, now two hours further into the race (party pace for me thank you very much) and about five hours down altogether, in the middle of yet another climb, with the Craddock Valley, its wines, its prize, fat, fluffy rams, and the last aid station, far off down below, I was ready to empty my run pack pockets, peel of my socks and pack it in.

“What goes up” I was unnecessarily
reminded by the crew of young Afrikaans bros in matching run kit and flash socks, must by the natural order of things, “go down”. This, as we faced yet another muddy, tricky, and rather precarious step over a water course falling into steep nothingness for long as my mind would allow me to imagine. “You just take your time”, a friendly woman, also Afrikaans, also with flash socks, but not with the bros smiled, “last year - right at this place - we saw a man slip and fall all the way down the mountain”. Why, why, why, do I do this? I’m not agile, or fast, or elegant. I am extremely slow on the descent, extra careful with each and every foot placement, and STILL kick a root or chose a loose rock on which to place my future and as yet untarnished full set of teeth. Why? And then I thought of Admire.

About a decade ago, Admire Muzopambwa (Adie Athlete) was asked by his employer if he’d like to join him running in Joburg the mornings before work? Admire, a Zimbabwean trying to make a living far from his home and loved ones - like so many of Zimbabwe’s best and brightest people - said yes he would, thank you. His employer presented a pair of trainers, socks and some kit to run in, and the rest, I hope, will become UTMB history.

At this point in real race time, Admire, a MUT 60km race favourite (just a mere three weeks after his first place podium finish at the 160km Ultra Trail Drakensburg) was just over an hour from the finish line. Unlike me, people like Admire, and fellow country woman Emily Hawgood, don’t scramble on all fours when the going gets a bit tough, or scuttle down, like I was right at that moment, like an upended beetle with limbs staining for purchase on something firm and solid, my sense of self preservation causing a bottle neck of equally gormless humans in this forested gully. No, Admire and Emily are rare. They are the people for which Hoka, this races’ sponsor, wrote the tagline “Fly human, fly”. For a split second or two, between footfalls they do; they fly. Not only do they fly, the grave in which they do makes us believe we might be able to too.

Admire ran the 160kms of the Ultra Trail Drakensburg race in 21 hours and 1 min. He’s fast. I would eventually cross this finish line for the MUT 45kms race in 8 and a half hours, Admire ran 58km on the same mountains in 6 hours 20 mins. He’s fast and he’s obviously a natural talent, but it’s not a given. Admire has worked for this. And he loves it, he genuinely loves it - and you believe him. With his mega watt smile he tells you how much his legs hurt now, how trail running brings him closer to himself, to the big wide world, and how he wants to bring that, that feeling of being able to do something with one’s life to other Zimbabweans who, like him, may have the gift of speed and the necessary dose of grit and hunger, that, with a bit of luck and the right people to help them along, can achieve the miracle of flight too.

So, I suck up the dark thoughts, think of Buck further down the trail and the cold beer and hot shower at its end, and although I am far from flight, I continue to move, one foot in front of the other.

~
Admire is a man on a mission. He came in tied second in the MUT, qualifying for an elite athlete spot in the peak of trail running, the World Cup if you will, the UTMB in Chamonix, France. Zimbabwe, here is a man to get behind and support. Let’s help him get there.

19/05/2024

I have just returned from a week spent camping on an Angolan minefield as part of a project I am shooting for Halo Trust. Now settled in at a guest house in Libito, I have got showered and clean and feel like a new person. The drinks here are refreshing, the air con is cold, the coastal views are nice. The contrast between this and the reality of living in rural Angola this past week have been humbling. Living in a tent, bathing from a bucket, and being absolutely annihilated by mosquitos (Angolan mosquitos are in a league of their own) was a reminder of the luxury I often take for granted back home. While my writing definitely will not match Jo's, I want to attempt to share this insight with you: never underestimate your privilege. It's easy to overlook it amidst life’s routines and performing the daily grind, but it likely surrounds you in abundance. Simple conveniences, like a stocked fridge, clean running water and indoor plumbing are markers of extraordinary privilege. Despite its difficulties, my journey into rural Angola wasn't a bleak one at all; it was enlightening. The people I encountered have a genuine happiness despite facing hardships way beyond their control. Their resilience and satisfaction with life were inspiring. They reminded me to embrace each day with gratitude and to find joy in every moment. Angola, thank you for the reminder to make the most of my opportunities and to appreciate life’s blessings. Thank you for reminding me of how lucky I am and thank you for reminding me that I have an opportunity to use my privilege to contribute positively to the world and to try leave it a better place than I found it - all I have to do is make that choice. How lucky am I.

12/05/2024

The sun was just rising over the last somewhat undeveloped vlei that defines the final approach to Harare’s International Airport. Buck’s kit bag, camera box and tripod slipped along the back seat behind us as we dodged a pot hole. My ten-days’ worth of groceries, camping kit and duffel bag in the back of the cab lurched to the left with the effort.

Moving along eerily-quiet traffic-free roads, we were on route to drop off Buck for the first in what is a slew of Bad Rabbit assignments, first in Angola, and then Bulawayo, Beitbridge, Gonarezhou and, well, by then two months will have passed and who knows where Buck will find himself off to next?

“This is what the roads were like when we were teenagers… easy, quick.” How much has changed since then? Harare is almost indistinguishable from the empty-shelved, police dominated streets of the early 2000s.
“But somethings, like the pot holes remain the same”, I responded just as we pulled into the airport.

I, thanks to PTSD from the 2010s, I did a quick scan for any fluorescently-bibbed, clamp-wielding men, before jumping out of the passenger seat to grab a trolley.

Keeping my eye on a completely disinterested Airports of Zimbabwe staff member, we hug. He goes. I watch, waving, as Buck disappears into the newly finished, very shiny International Departures.

As I drive under the concrete-ribbon of the Independence Archway and into the awaking, albeit Sunday-sleepy City, it hits me: This is where Buck and I part.

For the first time since 2016, Buck will be doing all this forthcoming work alone. It feels a little sad - and I am very envious of the adventure ahead of Buck in the Benguela Province of Angola with the Halo Trust - but like the City that has shaped us, there are new roads to take and new opportunities to explore, and in this chapter of our lives, that means striking it out alone, individually.
Hold onto your Brahmins Billy Mitchell, we’re not separating romantically, just professionally.

I’ve been offered, and have accepted a job with African Parks, working with a phenomenal group of people to rebuild and secure Zimbabwe’s Matusadona National Park. It is a fantastic opportunity and an incredible privilege to do something that’s bigger than myself, working towards safeguarding a precious, precarious wilderness in this beautiful, perplexing country I call home.

Buck and I will keep on exploring together, and will keep on sharing those experiences here (and occasionally on YouTube), but I’ll keep returning to the same remote corner of Mashonaland West while Buck will be zig-zagging all over the continent. I’ll keep writing and Buck will keep making images and film. Bad Rabbit Studio is continuing and we are adapting.

As the greatly overused voice of Alan Watt’s intones on top of an electronic banger while I wait at the Samora Michel lights “the only way you can make sense of change is to plunge into it, and join the dance”. The lights go green, Bagga’s Gevha melodic track starts. I press down on the accelerator in my company car (whoop whoop!) and the road to Matusadona opens before me.

30/04/2024

“Woah!” Buck turned and looked at me with what can only be described as a nervous smile, “We will be running up that tomorrow… and the next day, and the day after that”. A few moans and ‘ouches’, and ‘oh my goodness’s’ followed from our fellow passengers. We were all here to run in the inaugural RunChimanimani race, a three-day mountain trail run in one of Zimbabwe’s least visited, most remote, and in my opinion, most awesome (in the old sense of the word) national parks. I shrank down lower in my seat to try and get a look at the scale of what was looming over us as the car pulled into the Outward Bound entrance. Anxious and more than a little cowed by the size and breadth of the Chimanimani’s, we got out of the car and lifted our eyes up and up and up. The mountain kept rising.
Ryan, the race organiser, grinned at the group of runners who moments before had been chomping down on a dinner of chicken and rice, our knives and forks now suspended above the hot meal, jaws dropped. “Ya, I’ll be at the waterpoint mid climb. You can swear at me if you need to but know there is much worse to come.” Ryan’s index finger traced the upward angle of Day One’s ascent, and kept going up and up. “And then you’ll have a nice long traverse across the plateau, cross the river, climb this little peak, swing down here – watch out for the caution sign, you’d don’t want to fall off the cliff face – and keep going all the way down until you pop out back here. There is a chopper on stand-by, but that’s for emergencies only. If you twist your ankle, strap it up and suck it up. There shouldn’t be any snakes, but keep a look out. The Sweeps will be behind you if you need anything and you can phone me if you run into any trouble. Make sure you’ve got my number saved.” Someone at the back of the room let out a nervous laugh and then the questions began.

Day One, 20kms: Clear skies; a big, long, exhausting climb; a couple of river crossings, a sweet drink and a bite to eat at the Mountain Hut; two spectacular forests on the decent, one thick and deep and full of eerie stillness, the other a Msasa forest draped in Old Man’s Beards swinging in the breeze; a socks and shorts tan. Everyone was home and dry six hours after starting. The afternoon was spent drying shoes, swimming in the world’s best swimming spot and restocking running packs with trail snacks.

Day Two. 30 kms. A spitting wet start and an immediate mossy upward climb, just the medicine for tired legs I’m told; a quick drop onto and across the grassy plateau to check in at the Mountain Hut (thank you to the volunteers from Mountain club Zimbabwe); howling winds, driving rain; a technical navigation of slippery rocks pursuing the Bungwe River’s flow into the Southern Lakes, past white sand beaches and wide deep pools, the impressive monolithic rising mountain carving its easterly course; up a long, gradual grassy slope with dancing, myriad species of grasses, fat, black, hairy caterpillars and calling raptors, past grey towers of rocky skyward reaching fingertips smattered amongst grasslands; finally cow bells and the Banana Grove; a steep climb through thick forest and out of the national park; one last halting run/ hobble / shuffling walk along a descending dirt track under the alternating hot sun and cold clouds and over the finish line.

Day Three. 10 kms. Grey skies, cold rain, slippery mud underfoot. A sharp climb to start, mist swallowing what must have been specular scenery below; up and along and over a peak; a turn and the quick, slippery decent. I, sheepish and sore from the standard undertrained ITB agony, sipped hot tea under the cover of the start tent as wet, mud splattered and surprisingly looser for it, runners crossed the third and final finish line, Rave Anthems of the 90s echoing through the valley, welcoming them home.

There is nothing like the majesty of a big, old spectre of a mountain to remind a human just how much more there is than us and our internal lives. There is nothing like the raw, uncontrolled elements to remind us just how alive we are; and there is nothing more affirming that a weekend with like minded people to remind ourselves that we are not alone.
Buck, to his surprise and great delight took home 2nd overall – well done Buck! The weekend was a great success and we are so grateful for it.

Thank you to all who made this weekend as special as it was. We will certainly be back.

13/02/2024

Every couple of years African Parks holds a 100 miler race for their rangers and staff in one of the national parks under its management. This year the run will be held in Iona National Park, one the largest protected spaces on the continent, and we are on the start list. Iona constitutes the northern tip of the Namib Desert in Angola, the oldest desert in the world. It is vast, rugged and arid, and despite all this, it is home to a diverse number of species including cheetah, leopard and brown hyaena. I am under no illusions of just how difficult it will be to traverse 100 miles - we may as well hop off a vehicle at Karoi and run to Harare, its almost the same distance, but not over sand dunes and rough game paths. It is going to suck. But training for the Iona run is proving to be just as challenging. In this regard, we are not unique. Due to the nature of the race, all participants must ready themselves in wild places. Elephants must be given a wide birth, hippos avoided, heat navigated, tsetse files ignored, enough time and daylight found. If Buck and I can get to the start line with enough milage under our feet, and a smile still on our faces, then the battle will have already been won. We’ve got seven and half months to get ready. We are three weeks in.

11/02/2024

Around the 15th of December I took off with my tail between my legs, a bag of belongings and laptop in tow. It was too damn hot. The cooler climes of Harare were beckoning. Buck had already been in ‘town’ for a few weeks and I missed him. Besides, it was so hot my poor MacBook Pro was refusing to budge, stuck on a single pane until it was put inside of the fridge for 30mins or so. It was bad. Harare was better. I could actually be productive there.

Just before Christmas the rains arrived in the Matusadona National Park. Buck and I watched from afar as the Tashinga weather station showed a sharp drop in temperature and a sharp rise in precipitation. The trends continued for two weeks non stop. The rivers burst their banks, the lake rose. Almost overnight the wilderness of sober parched plains and tinderbox hills - hills that had since we arrived in the park in September had remained firmly veiled behind a literal smoke screen caused by the annual sacking of diminishingly productive lands - reformed. The park received its average annual rainfall in two weeks.

Buck went back to the park in early January. I had to stay in Harare to sort a few things. When I did hear from Buck it was of how cool, clear and pleasant the park was, of how it was a wonderful time of year to be in the park. The hunger and haste of the rains had abated but rain shadows still rolled in and over Tashinga.

In early February I arrived back to our campsite, to our tent with its thick, insufferable canvas walls, and the big, beautiful Natal Mahogany that had saved us during the dire fever-pitch-hot months, and to Buck. I also arrived back to unbeatable views of the Zambian hills, each fold and rise all those kilometres away visible from where our tent stands. The air has cleared. The Matusadona range of the Zambezi Escarpment now looms clearly visible. Each sunrise the escarpments’ shadow retreats, revealing the green sweeping domain of the valley floor and the floodplain teeming with game. The rain however has stopped. I hope not for the season, but I fear it is so. I have missed the whole damn show.

It is hot once again, mid to high 30s, and I, along with living things that rely on the rains arrival for survival, will have to wait another nine months until the clouds once more burst over this thirsty landscape. Until then, Buck and I will be here, under this big, gorgeous, shade-giving tree, fanning ourselves, swatting the flies and sweat beads away. Home sweet home.

22/12/2023

2023 Bad Rabbit End of Year Review.

Hello all readers,

Firstly thank you for remaining with us, and thank you for reading this. 2022 was a whirlwind year for us; we published a book, won a bunch of awards for a film and did a bunch of traveling for work and film festivals. We entered 2023 grateful - but tired.

In the first quarter of the year we undertook our biggest NGO storytelling project yet, shooting a series of shorts on Zimbabwe’s last landmines and the people that are hard at work to clear them. It was also the first project we’ve shot where only indigenous languages were used - in this case Shona and Hlengwe. The project saw us working with HALO Zimbabwe in the humid, remote and oh so incredibly beautiful Rushinga, and in the equally hot, harsh and unforgivingly beautiful landscape that is the very south-eastern tip of Zimbabwe in the Chikwalakwala area near the Sango border post with APOPO. This project humbled us. Those of us who spend significant proportions of our time living in Harare, Bulawayo, Vic Falls, or even Gweru for that matter, forget there are corners of this country where people still live a life not dissimilar to their great-great-grand parents. Thanks to the work of HALO and APOPO, minefields will soon be one less barrier to accessing an education, healthcare or markets. The shorts we created will be made public for the 2024 Landmine Awareness Day in April. It was our great pleasure and privilege to give voice to these stories of determination, goodwill and hope.

A few years ago we closed up ‘the studio’ and shifted to a more mobile set up. Our office became wherever we happened to be and this year we took the opportunity to set up shop in Vic Falls for a month. Tired, and in need of escaping the barking dogs and hooting cars of Harare while we put our heads down to get through the mountains of material that needed editing, we gratefully took up a friends offer to use their house and slow everything right down. Our time out of ‘the office’ was punctuated by many runs up the gorge, the odd hair-raising foray past the resident herds of buffalo and prides of lion, and a discovery that Shoe Strings makes the best pizza possibly in the country. Seriously. It’s really good. Vic Falls is always good to us. We are very lucky to have some special friends and family who always take great care of us and let us into the closely guarded secret that is the Vic Falls community - thank you to Larry, Stan, Bishop, Sibongile, Simon, Casey, Sarah, Garth, Christine and Bryan for making the town feel like a home for a short while this year.

At the beginning of 2023, we promised ourselves we’d take things easier this year. And take it easy we have. Buck took up archery, culminating in (depending on who you ask) an uneventful/ riveting trip to Beitbridge in August. Buck sat in a blind for four days, watched squirrels come to drink, the odd bush buck here and there, and finally on his final day, a windfall of impala and warthog. It turns out bow hunting is really really hard. After all the sitting and waiting Buck was faced with a huge warthog, biggest he’s ever seen, and in his words ‘the universe said na, not today just sit and watch it”. I can only wonder what Taurai, the tracker who had elected to sit with Buck in that small, hot hide must have thought. While Buck was sitting patiently - and silently might I add - in the blind for four days a wonderful time with our Beitbridge friends (of which there are surprisingly many) going on trail runs, bush walks and enjoying a very civilised sundowner or two. Thank you to Steve and AC, and the Bristow family for being part of the reason Beitbridge West is a continually alluring destination for us.

While Buck has spent his spare time this year shooting arrows at targets in the garden (and yes, he is very good), I took up running a old English Pointer bitch called Juno in the few farrow fields that still exist in and around Harare (two, there are two places big and wild enough to warrant a trip); but I don’t like shooting at the game birds so after telling her what a good dog she is, and after the birds have flushed and flown off, we basically just find the same birds over and over again. It’s more fun that it sounds. Trust me.

But we did some work this year too. Our book, ‘Gonarezhou and the return of black rhino’ has done better than we ever thought possible - that’s thanks to you, our readers, friends, family and supporters. We did an initial print run of 500 in November last year, and followed it up with a second print run of another 500 in February of this year. We are pleased to report, despite our nightmares that piles upon piles of boxes would follow us around for the rest of our lives, we are down to less than 100 copies. So if you want one and are looking for last minute Christmas present, get in touch with us pronto.

Our film, ‘Gonarezhou, Return of the Rhino’, went on to tour around South America as part of an educational campaign with Santiago Wild, reaching thousands of school children. It is this more than any of the awards that has brought us the most joy, to imagine the scores of people who watched in film festivals, on WaterBear, or on Youtube as the first black rhinos walked out of their bomas and into the vast wilderness that is Gonarezhou. It’s also pretty cool to think about Hlengwe, the minority language spoken by the those that live around the park, being heard all over the world. You’ll be pleased to know Gonarezhou’s founder population of black rhino are doing very well and …. breeding! We know this because we visited the Park in July to see the new Chipale Camp. The camp is such a gem, it’s very wild with a great view of the wondrous Runde River and the ever enigmatic Chilojo Cliffs. We highly recommend it!

Speaking of Youtube, Bad Rabbit’s channel was resurrected this year with the “Expedition Almost Zimbabwe” series. We’ve promised to keep the channel active next year, sharing our 2024 adventures with viewers around the world - and that’s just the thing, Zimbabweans are all around the world and yet still deeply connected to ‘home’ and the people and places that make this ‘home’ what it is. We think that is rather special.

To finish off the year, we committed to our second long-form conservation storytelling project, this time around with Matusadona National Park. The park is being co-managed by African Parks and Zim Parks, and is in the process of being readied to receive supplemented populations of sable, eland, buffalo, reedbuck, waterbuck and once ready, reintroduce the locally extinct black rhino back into the park in the next couple of years. We’re living in a tent under a gorgeous Natal Mahogany and are trying our best to adjust to the relentless heat. We’re loving being in the bush again, making new friends and being exposed to a different culture, and we feel oh so privileged to live the lives we do.

That’s it from us for this annual wrap up. We worked a little, played a lot and found a new project to sink our teeth into. Life is good and we are grateful. Next year promises a lot more camping, a lot more heat, and some epic adventures in mountains and untouched places. And beans with rice. There’s definitely a lot more beans and rice on the menu for next year. No complaints from us.

Happy Christmas and New Year all. We hope you are all able to spend this time with your loved ones, eat and be merry. Salute 2023 🥂

11/12/2023

Or am I …. That’s the thing about the SkyRun Zim, it’s so incredibly hard at the time but as soon as the event ends, you’re already plotting a return! I can hand-over-heart say this was the hardest one yet. But I can also hand-over-heart say it was also the best organised SkyRun yet. The race just keeps getting better and better (and also tougher and tougher) - thank you to the team of people behind it, who make this race the most memorable, possibly most challenging trail race in this part of the world. For real.

Chris, thanks for the finish line video. It was such a tough day out I only had the strength to pull out my phone once.

I’ll be back!

22/11/2023

Thank you so much to the Halsteds team, we appreciate the kind words and are grateful for the opportunity. Sending best wishes to you all.

Cause for celebration indeed! 🦏
What started as a photography passion project for one, unexpectedly transformed into a life-changing journey for two! Read the epic story of Buck and Jo from Bad Rabbit Studio as they document the return of the black rhino to Gonarezhou. In 2020, the park had a population of near zero compared to January 2022, when the numbers were over 30 black rhinos back in the park and up to five calves were being born! Their intricately woven story is beautifully illustrated in an extensive 400+ page book and has also been made into an internationally acclaimed short film!

Read how they got swept up into this spectacular project from in our inflight magazine here:

www.flyhac.com/view-issue-4

10/11/2023

Many of you have been asking what we are doing in Matusadona National Park. Here is proof that we are actually working... Give the Matusadona National Park page a like and follow, we'd appreciate it because it makes us look like we know what we're doing 😉

09/11/2023

On board the ‘pelican’ that evening were 20 bags of hupfu, 100 kgs of chicken feed, NUMEROUS bottles of cooking oil, cans of caffeinated drinks, packets of sugar and flour, a single pocket of potatoes, roughly 30 kgs of luggage, one experienced, ultra chilled coxswain (give it up for Special 🙌), two visiting contractors, two Bad Rabbits and one chicken.

We had left a little later than planned as said hupfu, chicken feed, sugar, flour, potatoes, luggage and chicken all required VERY careful weight distribution in the said ‘pelican’, but with the effort of unpacking and then repacking drying off of our skins, with the wind and sinking sun on faces as the pelican flew over the flat, fluid surface of the lake’s waters, and the evening’s sky ebbing from one end of the soft, velvety pink/red/purple colour spectrum to the other, spirits of all souls on board were high. Except perhaps the chicken, who spent half the journey trying to nestle his/her windswept feathers deeper into wedges between the vessels’ cargo and the other half of the journey trying to get it’s beak into granuals of Hulletts finest Sun Sweet Brown Sugar. He/she did not manage to perforate the Triangle’s toughest plastic packaging. The jury on his/her levels of enjoyment are out. But I digress; spirits (perhaps except that of the chicken), were high.

With rose-saffron lighting strikes illuminating the countless onward-chugging lamp-lit black hulks of Zambia’s Kapenta fleet, the very last remnants of dusks’ light finally and fully slipped past us as we pulled up into the Tashinga Bay. Special being the ultra chill, experienced coxswain that he is, safely navigated who knows what in the bay’s waters to thrust the pelican safely ashore with all items and souls accounted for. The unpacking and repacking of all said items into the back of one pick-up canopy commenced in earnest. The chicken aside, all were sweating. All were swatting CLOUDS of midgies and whining insects momentarily aside. But packing Buck was not. He, we were yet to learn, was in the early throes of Malaria; at least we think it was Malaria as he has since responded well to Coartum but will be recorded as the park’s first malaria case THIS YEAR (reference earlier post referring to the surprising lack of mosquitos in Matusadona National Park). Poor Buck, if there is a mosquito in the landscape, it will bite Buck, and if there is a mosquito carrying malaria, Buck will be the chosen one.

Spirits were beginning to flag (this certainly includes the chicken who was -safely- lumped inside the canopy onto of said cargo) for the journey from harbour to HQ whereupon unpacking recommenced with measurably less zeal. I had tripped and stripped all the skin clean off of my left lower leg on that morning’s run (it’s gross and not fit for viewing; I was watching the Zebra walk the power line road ahead of me in Kariba and not the road as I should have been; reference the slight sign of grazing on my chin). Being squeezed into a double cab alongside six others (five plus one driver) was beginning to SERIOUSLY impede upon my usually robust humour. Buck by now was experiencing the slew of Malaria’s symptoms and was silent all but for the odd moan. Thankfully the unpacking of the said repacked items from vehicle to HQ stores was finally finished and we were kindly deposited at our campsite before the repacking into stores began. On arrival at our campsite, Buck and I were both medicated and fed on Aunt Hillary’s Epic Chow (EPIC for quick camping food solutions such as) before limping and lagging our way to bed. THANK GOODNESS for the fan and roof rack sleeping spot (again, reference earlier post). Beside the monkeys raiding the kitchen and leaving eggs, potatoes and indescribable stuff ALL over the floor the next day - that was a low moment - thanks to Coartum, Epic Chow and a good nights rest, spirits were once more on the rise. We live to pack and unpack another day.