Wanderlust

Traveling the world and sharing its music

Law of the Delta

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There is a law of the Okavango Delta in Botswana:


"Civilization ends at the waterline. Beyond that, we all enter the food chain, and not always right at the top."

OK, so I mention paddling in Africa, and I get two reactions.  One is "Awesome" and the other is, "what about (insert fear here)".  Actually, I get that reaction from any trip I take, but it's especially true for my African Paddle. 

Despite what you've heard, the Crocs are the more aggressive on the Delta

Hippo's and crocs are the one's you hear about most, and despite what think you know, according to our guide who has spent 40+ years paddling the delta, it's the crocs you need to watch out.  He claims that unless you plan to run into a hippo or surprise it, they tend to keep their distances and it was true during our trip.  I think their "killer of Africa" reputation comes from people watching too much Nature channel.  Crocs, like crocs in Florida and elsewhere, tend to be more aggressive. The "small" difference with the one's in Africa is they can grow to 15 feet long.  






Yes, kayaking in the Delta does have it's dangers, and it's probably more dangerous that other places. Anyone who tells you otherwise is being worse than dishonest  However, you can fall into the Delta and get eaten by a croc or fall into waters in the Everglades and die of hypothermia.  One is just a little quicker.  Plus, the locals have been paddling these waters in their wooden morkoro (canoe) longer than anyone reading this blog has been alive.  So, to be really honest, if you're gonna head out into the wilderness, bush, delta, outdoors, ocean, whatever you call it, you're gonna take a bigger risk than sitting at your local coffee shop, but less of a risk than crossing the street getting there.  Live a little.  Paddling the Delta was amazing.


Local on a traditional Mokoro

Follow my blog at http://www.squong.blogspot.com where you can subscribe to receive updates.  Check out the company where I lead kayaking trips all over the world at adventuresinflorida.com.
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    Wanderlust by Robert Service

    The Wanderlust has lured me to the seven lonely seas,
    Has dumped me on the tailing-piles of dearth;
    The Wanderlust has haled me from the morris chairs of ease,
    Has hurled me to the ends of all the earth.
    How bitterly I've cursed it, oh, the Painted Desert knows,
    The wraithlike heights that hug the pallid plain,
    The all-but-fluid silence, -- yet the longing grows and grows,
    And I've got to glut the Wanderlust again.

    Soldier, sailor, in what a plight I've been!
    Tinker, tailor, oh what a sight I've seen!
    And I'm hitting the trail in the morning, boys,
    And you won't see my heels for dust;
    For it's "all day" with you
    When you answer the cue
             Of the Wan-der-lust.

    The Wanderlust has got me . . . by the belly-aching fire,
    By the fever and the freezing and the pain;
    By the darkness that just drowns you, by the wail of home desire,
    I've tried to break the spell of it -- in vain.
    Life might have been a feast for me, now there are only crumbs;
    In rags and tatters, beggar-wise I sit;
    Yet there's no rest or peace for me, imperious it drums,
    The Wanderlust, and I must follow it.

    Highway, by-way, many a mile I've done;
    Rare way, fair way, many a height I've won;
    But I'm pulling my freight in the morning, boys,
    And it's over the hills or bust;
    For there's never a cure
    When you list to the lure
             Of the Wan-der-lust.

    The Wanderlust has taught me . . . it has whispered to my heart
    Things all you stay-at-homes will never know.
    The white man and the savage are but three short days apart,
    Three days of cursing, crawling, doubt and woe.
    Then it's down to chewing muclucs, to the water you can eat,
    To fish you bolt with nose held in your hand.
    When you get right down to cases, it's King's Grub that rules the races,
    And the Wanderlust will help you understand.

    Haunting, taunting, that is the spell of it;
    Mocking, baulking, that is the hell of it;
    But I'll shoulder my pack in the morning, boys,
    And I'm going because I must;
    For it's so-long to all
    When you answer the call
             Of the Wan-der-lust.

    The Wanderlust has blest me . . . in a ragged blanket curled,
    I've watched the gulf of Heaven foam with stars;
    I've walked with eyes wide open to the wonder of the world,
    I've seen God's flood of glory burst its bars.
    I've seen the gold a-blinding in the riffles of the sky,
    Till I fancied me a bloated plutocrat;
    But I'm freedom's happy bond-slave, and I will be till I die,
    And I've got to thank the Wanderlust for that.

    Wild heart, child heart, all of the world your home.
    Glad heart, mad heart, what can you do but roam?
    Oh, I'll beat it once more in the morning, boys,
    With a pinch of tea and a crust;
    For you cannot deny
    When you hark to the cry
             Of the Wan-der-lust.

    The Wanderlust will claim me at the finish for its own.
    I'll turn my back on men and face the Pole.
    Beyond the Arctic outposts I will venture all alone;
    Some Never-never Land will be my goal.
    Thank God! there's none will miss me, for I've been a bird of flight;
    And in my moccasins I'll take my call;
    For the Wanderlust has ruled me,
    And the Wanderlust has schooled me,
    And I'm ready for the darkest trail of all.

    Grim land, dim land, oh, how the vastness calls!
    Far land, star land, oh, how the stillness falls!
    For you never can tell if it's heaven or hell,
    And I'm taking the trail on trust;
    But I haven't a doubt
    That my soul will leap out
    On its Wan-der-lust.

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