By Taylor Schlichting (Colby College)
5:45am wakeup, 6:00am breakfast is the daily routine. We sit around the table, quietly munching on our oatmeal with peanut butter, our bodies still numb from sleep. Since it is too early for the sun, our headlamps illuminate each others’ faces, occasionally catching the silvery glint of a tea mug or oatmeal bowl. At 6:30am we load up in the two trucks. Uncle Duke (my car for the day) is headed for Western Pamlwag Concession through the Uniab Riverbed.
In the early morning light as the sun comes up, the land is muted and cool as if still grasping on to the last few seconds of night. The hills, warmed up scarlet and ochre during the day are dark and lined with a pale pink horizon glow. The truck in front kicks up a steady stream of dust that seeps into the cracks of our windows. We pass a giraffe 15 meters from the edge of the road. It stares at us, its long body stolid and unmoving. However, there is no time to pause and examine the animal since we are on a time line.
We arrive at the start of the route just barely by 6:55am and climb up into the game seats situated in the bed of the truck. Perfect timing. Temperature? 11o degrees F. Wind speed? 0-5. Time? 7:00am.These measurements are all recorded on our data sheet clipboard. We tap twice on the roof of the car signaling to the driver to start the engine.
Our proximity to the coast creates a thick fog that envelops the car and limits our visibility to less than 100 meters. With the wind in our face we snuggle into our jackets, zipping them, pulling up hoods, and retreating stiff hands into sleeves. We spot four springbok to our right and tap the metal car roof to stop. When counting wildlife it is essential to move quickly. Angle, distance, age, and sex are recorded in under three minutes. Tap the roof again to go. We strain our eyes through the white shroud for any sign of more, spotting oryx, ostrich, and springbok in the first half of our route. The landscape remains devoid of any vegetation apart from the wispy, pale grass that carpets the ground. The plateaus in the far distance we have seen on many drives are now invisible. The setting is surreal; animals suddenly appearing out of the opaque fog like ghosts.
At 9:00am the car takes a bumpy right turn over a rocky bank into a dry riverbed. The trees are taller, coalescing into one mass of dark shrubby green and interspersed with dark grey basalt. It is a drastic change from the barren and lonely setting we just left. Suddenly the wheels halts with the sound of crunching gravel. Rhino!
Male black rhino in the Uniab Riverbed
We peer through our binoculars, anxiously scanning the grey banks for any movement. Finally we spot the animal as it munches on the toxic green branches of a Euphorbia damarana bush. He weighs nearly two tons of muscle, bone, and sharp horns, and yet moves with precision and serenity. We are wholly entranced by the animal. Sensing our presence, due to our downwind positioning, the black rhino gracefully traverses the river bank and disappears over the edge. The car starts and we continue the remaining kilometer of the Uniab Riverbed still in awe of the animal we just witnessed.
As we leave the riverbed, the setting opens up to reveal the parched scarcity of the basalt flats. There are no photos or words that can encompass the unabated vastness of the Namibian landscape. Looking out through the hot, shimmering, lucid air, being able see for tens of kilometers is truly humbling. Through driving out on game routes and conducting point counts we have seen so much variety in the land. Each day we return with new stories, new species we have seen, and a greater understanding of the place we now call home.