the great northern adventure, part 2

here now, part 2 of this series, where your heroine and adventuress will finally explicate on some of those damned spoilers...

SATURDAY - let's just drive all day

I actually pulled myself out of bed at 4:30 a.m. Saturday morning (impressed, Mom?) to savor one last hot shower in our Royal Basin bathroom before heading north. Small luxuries become big here ... you know? It wasn't even a great shower -- it had one of those removable, handheld nozzles and mediocre water pressure. But I'm small enough that I could stand underneath where it hung (with a little knee-bend) and just soak in the warm water for a while. This bathing experience that I would scoff at in the states felt like a week at the spa. (Since I've come back to Accra, and been shocked awake at 6:30 a.m. by our cold showers, you can bet I miss it.) After that and a little hurried, throw-it-in-the-backpack packing, we had an early buffet breakfast of omelettes and fruit. By some major, repeated lapse in judgment, I never bring any of my Tabasco bottles on our field trips, so I'm forced to compromise and use ketchup to season my morning meal. It's definitely not the same, but was still surprisingly good (and I know my ketchup-addicted roomie would be so proud).

Anyway, all 15 members of our group were loaded on the bus as scheduled at 6 a.m. (a minor miracle), and we started the epic drive. And then we drove and drove and drove and drove.

We had to leave so early to ensure that we'd reach Mole before dusk. Leslie was adamant that we only travel in the daytime, because that is the best way to ensure the group's safety. Nonetheless, still quite wary of roadside robberies and all that risky business, several of us shared the roll of duct tape I'd brought and taped our camera cases, with debit cards and some cash tucked inside, to the undersides of our seats. My camera is brand spankin' new, and there is no way I would part with it; however, I was fully willing to instead hand over my terrible, four-year-old, doesn't-hold-a-charge-for-more-than-two-hours iPod and be done with that mess. Well, as it turns out, all this planning was completely unnecessary and overdramatic, because we carried on free and easy the entire drive. No hold-ups whatsoever. Thank God. The most exciting part of the drive was, every hour or so, when we'd look out the window and see the remains of a horrific car crash still sitting and taking up space on the side of the road. Most involved tankers or semi-trucks, so it was quite a spectacle. But when I wasn't watching trees, huts and heaps of steel fly by on the highway, I curled up in the two seats I owned on our bus (close to the front, scored by virtue of a sometimes-sensitive tummy) and napped. We have been so lucky to take this incredible, comfortable, brand-new bus on our field trips. The seats are plush (though the synthetic-leather material they're made of sticks to your bare skin so that you have to peel yourself off when you want to disembark or readjust) and there are almost enough rows of seats for each person to have one to themselves. It has nice, big windows that provide a refreshing breeze to keep us all from overheating. Basically, we are so blessed to have this bus. And I think we completely took the bus (and our amazing driver, Isaac) for granted until we reached Damongo Junction and had to switch vehicles to travel the last little stretch to Mole.

excursion with mr. fatal & the mango tree

So we were not allowed to take our beloved luxe bus on the final stretch of road to Mole (about 20 miles or so), because the roads were purported to be so bad and dusty and full of holes that it would basically ruin this beautiful, brand-new specimen of a vehicle. Therefore, at noon, as we rolled into the junction, we prepared ourselves to bid farewell to Isaac and relocate ourselves on to a different, more off-road-capable bus. But we didn't actually make any movements quite yet, because we couldn't see another bus anywhere. Also, the village children were clamoring around us at almost-riotous levels, and nobody wanted to go outside and be mobbed. They shouted up at the windows, demanding that we send down pens or money. I have absolutely no problem being called "Obruni," because I know it's really just a completely standard term in the Ghanaian vernacular, but when children start calling me "White lady," (as in, "White lady, give me money!") it makes my skin crawl a little bit. I just feel like it has all sorts of connotations that I want nothing to do with. At one point, someone in the back of the bus actually did throw some food or pens into the swarm of children, and it almost incited an all-out brawl, as all the children rushed, dove, tackled and fought for possession of these items. Leslie then insisted that we don't give anything to any of the children, because there would never be enough to go around and it really does more harm than good. Anyway, in the midst of the madness, Leslie had contacted our new driver, Mr. Fatal (um, yes, it's just as sketchy as you would imagine ... but to be completely fair I'll add that it's pronounced like "fay-tahhhl"), and I don't know if his vehicle was sitting there the whole time or had arrived while we were preoccupied with the children, but by this point he was arrived and ready to load us on to his "bus," which was really a MINIVAN. Basically, we crammed 15 people (and all of their belongings) into a tro-tro, and took that the rest of the way to Mole. But oh! the excitement had just begun.

At this point, we were all pretty skeptical of this Fatal character, because he was dressed so strangely (he was wearing a fishing shirt and plain shorts, but with argyle dress socks and some odd shoes that I can't exactly remember, and to top it off he completed the ensemble with a NY Giants baseball cap and wraparound sunglasses, which he never took off) and you could never really tell where his eyes were looking. Also, we had been under the assumption that Fatal was the actual driver, but this other guy, who I don't think spoke English, had been assigned that role, and Fatal smushed himself in the back with us, just taking up more room in the already overcrowded tro-tro. So, things were not quite going as planned. But, we made the best of it, and got some good group bonding time in our close quarters. The roads, as we soon discovered, were actually in terrific condition. They weren't paved, but the red dirt had been packed down (in some places, you could see the same sort of ridges that occur on a manicured ski slope) and there were no potholes. Despite this, the driver stopped the vehicle in the middle of the road (with nothing but trees and dirt in sight for miles) after about 15-20 minutes to check underneath the van. He came up with oil on his fingers, which is never a good sign. He and Fatal put another bottle of oil in the engine, and we proceeded along, but did not get very far before we had to stop again. And this stop was much more prolonged. Fatal informed Leslie and our group that there was an oil leak, so not only did they have to fix the pipes on the van's underbelly, but they had to go up the road to the next town to get more oil. So we'd be marooned in the middle of nowhere for a while.

Luckily, we'd broken down not too far out of town, and as we all started to pile out of the van to wait things out (instantly feeling the unbearable heat), some children ran up to greet us from a nearby house. Unlike the children at Damongo Junction, this group of seven or so was softspoken and shy, so much so that making introductions was a little difficult. Nonetheless, the eldest of the group, a boy of 12, invited us to sit under the mango tree that was just beside the road. We walked that direction, and the kids ran ahead, bringing benches and chairs from their home to make us comfortable. Their hospitality was incredibly touching and absolutely unforgettable. Mango trees are especially noteworthy because their branches extend very wide, providing ample coverage and shade for those seeking refuge. They're one of the smartest trees to grow in Africa, because they provide both food and shade, and Ghana has employed PR tactics on several occasions to encourage rural populations to plant them. Our rescuers sat beneath the tree with us, still quiet as ever. We started making conversation with them, and they slowly opened up to us. We learned that they were all related, some siblings and some cousins. We asked names and ages, but sometimes had trouble understanding their responses, so we grabbed a stick and the children wrote their names in the dirt. Every so often, Fatal would come check in and assure us that we'd be getting back on the road in just 15 minutes, but the clock kept ticking. At one point, Nick, a member of our group who knows a thing or two about cars, popped under the van to take a look at the problem. He reported back that the burst pipe was in bad need of repair, and that there were already three clamps on various places where the pipe had broken before. Two, he said, were still loose and leaking, because nobody had ever looked at them the first time we had engine trouble! He tightened them, and seriously impressed Fatal with his mechanical know-how, although isn't that really supposed to be the guy we hired's job? Let's review a moment -- first, the bus we were supposed to take to Mole turned out to be a tro-tro, and then it wasn't really a tro-tro, but a ramshackle hunk of junk that leaks oil and had likely been driven all its 300,000 miles without a single tune-up. Anyway, back to the story -- it took about two and a half hours for our oil to arrive, but we hardly noticed the time, because we were so preoccupied with our adorable new friends, and we definitely didn't notice the heat, because we were sheltered by the mango tree. We were very sad to leave our little oasis (and little hosts!) when it was time to go, but also kind of psyched to finally get back on the road and maybe reach Mole before dark. So we said our thank-yous and goodbyes, and got back on the road.

The rest of our drive was fine, save for the enormous quantities of DUST that seeped into our van. I think we are all developing the red lung now, from excessive dust inhalation. Our four valiant backseaters got the rawest deal, because the van's back door wasn't completely shut (way to go again, Mr. Fatal), so not only were they the dustiest, but the backseat gets hot, stuffy and sweaty, so they were truly covered in it. However, the good news here is that being covered in red dust gives the same illusion as a phenomenal spray tan. And if you ask me, I'll tell you that we all just looked "sexy and rugged," instead of "covered in dirt and sweat."

So, the first thing we did when we arrived at Mole Motel was jump in the pool, thereby cooling and cleaning ourselves in one fell swoop. And then we paused to enjoy the beauty and amazement of the park.

mole national park (finally)

Mole is absolutely gorgeous, AND it's full of animals, which is just an overwhelmingly awesome combination. Once we passed through the park gates, on the short drive to the motel, we saw monkeys, antelope and warthogs, all just by looking out the tro-tro window. Actually, by the end of our short stay, seeing warthogs was old news, because they sort of just roamed through the motel grounds, grazing on the periphery. The motel has a lookout deck that sits above two watering holes, and the view is spectacular. The landscape looked exactly how I would picture an African savannah, but much greener. You couldn't quite see any animals from that deck, but you could make out the ripples on the top of the water that indicate an alligator is lurking below the surface. We might have also seen a few water buffalo, gazelles and antelope, but it's hard to say for sure. Needless to say, we spent a lot of time on that deck. Unfortunately, our stay in Mole was quite short ... we may have spent more time traveling to and from the park than actually in the park. Besides swimming, eating, deck-sitting and sleeping, we didn't do much else ... save for the SAFARI!

SUNDAY -- walking safari & ELEPHANTS

The whole point of coming to Mole was to see some animals, so we woke up early (again) on Sunday morning, ate a quick breakfast, and suited up for our 7 a.m. safari. Mole is some odd cross between a savannah and a forest (there's a technical name for it that I just can't remember), so our safari was not going to be in a jeep, like you'd always imagine a safari would be ... rather, we hiked. To curb the danger factor, an experienced guide with an enormous gun escorted the group. He also offered periodic nature or history updates, but I think he was really mostly there in a protective capacity. We asked our 23-year veteran guide if he had ever used the gun before, and his response was a very blasé, "Oh, of course." We started off on a nice, designated path, and saw some baboons and monkeys and more warthogs. They were all actually very docile, and lived near a small commune, so I think they weren't all that surprised to see humans. There were trash piles all around the commune, and it was so odd to see these wild animals living amidst the garbage. After a short while, we got to the juicy part of our hike and started trekking through the bush. The African bush wasn't too dense or hard to navigate through, as we were mostly walking on long grass, but there were lots of little trees everywhere that affected visibility. We trooped along in a single-file line, our armed guide bringing up the front. Those of us in the middle were essentially following blind. About five minutes in, the guide suddenly signalled for us to turn around, so we hurriedly started marching the opposite direction. We were rerouted to a little viewing spot nearby, and discovered the reason for that movement: a HUGE elephant was standing maybe 50 meters away.

I was awe-struck to be standing so close to such an enormous and powerful creature. However, the elephant seemed much more apathetic to our arrival, and it continued to stand around and eat leaves. We murmured and whispered in excitement to one another and shot pictures like a team of paparazzi. The elephant continued to eat leaves ... and despite the simplicity of the event, it was mind-blowingly amazing to witness. At one point, the big gray animal rotated to get at some better leaves or something, and we had a lovely view of its massive, wrinkled rear end. Again, we snapped photos like crazy. We were pretty much in an elephant-induced euphoric state, until our guard very seriously hissed for our attention and started leading us, at a fast clip, in a different direction through the bush. There was another elephant sauntering towards us! Once we had traveled about 25 meters, we were able to pause and absorb the spectacle. It too started eating, but had posed more appropriately with its best face forward. We never got to stay in one place for long, because like a magnet in jelly, these elephants REALLY liked to slowly make their way in our direction. Every few minutes, the guide would hiss and, with quick hand gestures, motion for us to follow away again. The guide informed our group that elephants are way high up on the list of most dangerous animals, and can run up to 70 miles an hour (only the cheetah is faster). So if one decides to come after you, there's really no getting out of it ... you WILL be trampled to death. So, the safari wasn't just a fun stroll through the bush anymore, but an anxiety-inducing obstacle course that involved dodging elephants and death simultaneously. At one point, we were so busy hurrying away that I didn't look where I was walking (also, it's the bush) and somehow got stung by a poisonous plant. It was REALLY painful ... but on the bright side, at least it wasn't a Black Mamba, which also reside in the African bush, and are far worse to encounter. Luckily, I recovered quickly enough to witness our two elephant friends start fighting one another, tusk-to-tusk. They were two males, probably trying to lay claim to a female we never saw. One already had broken tusks, which means he was probably a loser at least once before. It was an amazing spectacle to see ... one of those things that's so Animal Planet and that you never think you'll ever witness in person. Also, the good news here was that the elephants were far too preoccupied with one another to come trample us, so we were in the clear for a moment. We watched the two for a few more moments, and made our exit. We walked to a less-dense area of the bush and finally had an opportunity to see gazelles and more warthogs and baboons. The gazelles are really flighty, so they never stayed around very long, but were still very exciting and also, you know, not all that dangerous, which was a nice change of pace. We concluded our safari after about two hours, and trudged back to our tro-tro exhausted, but also exhilarated, by the morning's incredible events. Already quite sweaty and dusty, we piled back into Mr. Fatal's van and promptly started our drive back to Kumasi.

Given the ridiculously long nature of this installment, the rest of Sunday and Monday are upcoming in the 3rd and final post ... stay tuned!