Several dugout canoes await at the "beach." Little wooden chairs (seats and backs only, with no legs) hang over the side of the canoe. One of the guides gets in, puts a chair down and invites the first tourist to sit. A chair is provided for each of us in this manner. One guide stands at the back with his long pole and another guide stands in front. The guide in the front does all of the talking.
It is early and the river is very very peaceful and quiet. It's quite lovely. There is only the calm, gliding river and the thick, long, reedy grasses that grow along each bank. Our guide shows us the trees from whence the canoes were fashioned. Each canoe is an entire tree and is dug out by hand. He explains that earlier peoples lived off the river and that the canoes were an item of everyday use; however, once agriculture took on a more significant role, canoes were less used. Now they are more for tourists, he explains.
It is early and the river is very very peaceful and quiet. It's quite lovely. There is only the calm, gliding river and the thick, long, reedy grasses that grow along each bank. Our guide shows us the trees from whence the canoes were fashioned. Each canoe is an entire tree and is dug out by hand. He explains that earlier peoples lived off the river and that the canoes were an item of everyday use; however, once agriculture took on a more significant role, canoes were less used. Now they are more for tourists, he explains.
He describes the flora and fauna of the area, pointing out various birds that are perched or standing near the water. We float like this for quite a while. A couple of boats silently glide past us with only a light sound of pole dipping into water. The guide is constantly looking through his binoculars and at one point whispers "Crocodile!" We all strain to see a croc with only his eyes sticking out of the water. "It's a baby," he says.
Several minutes later we see another baby. "We usually see more," the guide says. Oh, so this was it, was it? I was both disappointed and relieved. Certainly park officials aren't going to put tourists in any danger, so I didn't expect to see huge crocodiles swarming around our boat; however, it would have been so cool to have been able to brag about at least a distant view of a full-grown monster!
We disembarked and our guide gave us instructions to stay close to each other and to use our eyes and our ears as we walk through the jungle. "It will take us about an hour or more," our guide says. I am walking right up in front behind him and in front of Bhim. I felt somewhat comforted, being surrounded by two fellows who knew a little something.
We walk through several types of terrain with various flora. At first we are in long grass. Then we reach a bush-like area. We pass ponds filled with large water-lily-type leaves and go into a heavily wooded area. He points out a vine to us and explains that it came from seeds through bird droppings, probably from South America. It is an extremely invasive weed that park officials are doing their best to eliminate, but so far, to no avail. "In just a few years it can kill all of the trees and plant life here," our guide informs us.
Once we reach a large growth of trees, our guide climbs up one and looks in all directions through his binoculars. "No rhinos here," he says. We walk circuitously, our guide keeping his eyes and ears open. I am nervously keeping mine open as well.
We come to a rhino hole — a large pool of muddy water; however, as I'm getting ready to take a photograph, the guide and Bhim are busy down at my feet. "Leeches," Bhim says, as he and the guide furiously pick them off my pants. Some are burrowing into the fabric and already into my skin, but the two men work fast. I lift up my pants legs — a leech is making its way into my leg. They pick it off and flick it into the bushes.
"Leeches hurt nothing," the guide says. "They just suck your blood and then fall to the ground," and I think, "Oh well then, no problem." He says, "Ticks are much worse," and he shows me the welts around his ankle and then all of us stop to check ourselves for ticks. I see there is blood on one of my socks, so something got me; however, I have since felt no ill effects.
Several minutes later we see another baby. "We usually see more," the guide says. Oh, so this was it, was it? I was both disappointed and relieved. Certainly park officials aren't going to put tourists in any danger, so I didn't expect to see huge crocodiles swarming around our boat; however, it would have been so cool to have been able to brag about at least a distant view of a full-grown monster!
We disembarked and our guide gave us instructions to stay close to each other and to use our eyes and our ears as we walk through the jungle. "It will take us about an hour or more," our guide says. I am walking right up in front behind him and in front of Bhim. I felt somewhat comforted, being surrounded by two fellows who knew a little something.
We walk through several types of terrain with various flora. At first we are in long grass. Then we reach a bush-like area. We pass ponds filled with large water-lily-type leaves and go into a heavily wooded area. He points out a vine to us and explains that it came from seeds through bird droppings, probably from South America. It is an extremely invasive weed that park officials are doing their best to eliminate, but so far, to no avail. "In just a few years it can kill all of the trees and plant life here," our guide informs us.
Once we reach a large growth of trees, our guide climbs up one and looks in all directions through his binoculars. "No rhinos here," he says. We walk circuitously, our guide keeping his eyes and ears open. I am nervously keeping mine open as well.
We come to a rhino hole — a large pool of muddy water; however, as I'm getting ready to take a photograph, the guide and Bhim are busy down at my feet. "Leeches," Bhim says, as he and the guide furiously pick them off my pants. Some are burrowing into the fabric and already into my skin, but the two men work fast. I lift up my pants legs — a leech is making its way into my leg. They pick it off and flick it into the bushes.
"Leeches hurt nothing," the guide says. "They just suck your blood and then fall to the ground," and I think, "Oh well then, no problem." He says, "Ticks are much worse," and he shows me the welts around his ankle and then all of us stop to check ourselves for ticks. I see there is blood on one of my socks, so something got me; however, I have since felt no ill effects.
