"Africa: When Animals Attack "
Our two days at Ngorongoro Crater were perhaps the most eventful and undeniably the most exciting on our entire safari. We arrived at the Crater late in the afternoon and began to settle in at the campsite located high on the crater rim.
While Moses put up the tent and prepared our dinner, Meredith and I decided to explore our new surroundings. We desperately needed some space and some time to stretch our legs. After five days of near nonstop driving, exciting as it might have been, Meredith and I were going absolutely stir crazy and wanted some exercise.
Our campsite was located on a large, grassy plateau overlooking the crater, with a huge fig tree in the very center of the grounds. Surrounded by lush jungles, the campground was also hosting two huge bull elephants which were roaming the area and dining on the abundant vegetation.
My hands hadn't done any climbing in nearly a month, and the fig tree, about ten feet across and perhaps seventy feet tall, was calling me. It wasn't Yosemite granite, but it would do in a pinch. While I went to complete the "fig tree traverse" around our camp's centerpiece, Meredith left for a walk down our campground's long dirt road.
After a few laps I soon tired of spider webs under my finger nails (no telling from what spider), and I took off after Meredith to get some good pictures of the two elephants in the woods quietly dining in (or on) the trees fifty yards from the road. These were arguably the two largest elephants we had seen on our trip.
Mighty Jimbo, elephant hunter. In the annals of Jimbo's Bad Ideas, this one ranks right near the top.
Camera at the ready, I slowly walked through the brush toward the elephant nearest to me. He stood with his back toward me, seemingly unaware of the little white man sneaking up behind him.
I suppose I walked within seventy feet of the gray giant, snapped a few pictures and sneaked away toward his partner, another big bull with massive five foot white tusks protruding menacingly from his mouth.
This particular elephant was facing me, and just the sight of those tusks was enough of a deterrent for me to rely on my trusty 300-mm zoom lens, rather than my less than Ninjaesque stealth and agility.
I backed out of the woods, beaming like a child, thrilled with the great photos now exposed on my camera.
As I hopped out of the bush, Meredith met me on the road, rolled her pretty blue eyes, and told me I was nuts.
"Nothing to it. What's gonna happen?"
Famous last words right? Never, ever tempt the hand of fate - especially when in Africa.
As Meredith and I walked back toward camp, the bull closest to the road, the first on my little photo safari, had turned, and although still about 100 feet away, was now facing our direction.
We quietly walked past him, unconcerned.
Unconcerned until he started lumbering toward us.
Now mildly concerned, we picked up the pace.
And so did he, ears out, head high, and surprisingly, menacingly, terrifyingly quickly.
I didn't wait around to see what he wanted. I believe my exact words we identical to my actions.
"RUN!"
But don't quote me on that. My response may also have been "Shit!" Or some combination of the two. Regardless, you get the idea.
Meredith and I broke into a dead sprint with big, bad Babar barreling right behind us. It's like he knew I'd let my World Wildlife Fund membership expire. Oddly enough, a charging elephant makes hardly a sound. And as big as an elephant looks when just standing around, it looks considerably larger when running directly at you.
Mighty Jimbo, all 150 pounds of him, versus a pissed off pachyderm, all 10,000 pounds of him.
Remember the old joke: "What's the sticky stuff between an elephants toes?"
"Slow natives."
Trust me, Africans are smart enough not to cross paths with an elephant. Elephant toe jam is more than likely due to dumb tourists.
I had no interest in losing this foot race and made a beeline for the fig tree. I was reasonably convinced that as big as the elephant was, he wasn't going to knock down a seventy-foot, 1000-ton fig tree. That's if I could make it there before becoming a Jim-kabob on his tusks.
Meredith was right with me on our little run through the jungle. Unlike me, however, she actually took the time to turn around, and later told me that the pachyderm in pursuit was only about fifty, maybe sixty feet behind - and gaining.
Right near the entrance to the camp, Babar decided that we were no longer a threat and ended his chase.
We went looking for exercise, and did we ever find it. Talk about high-impact aerobics! In case you were wondering, a five-ton elephant makes a remarkable personal trainer. I guarantee you will find the motivation to work up a sweat. Note to self: I should pitch the idea to Bally's. Call it "Circus Training" or "Pachystenics".
We slowed when we realized we were no longer at risk of being stomped into fig tree fertilizer, and just started to laugh. Well, Meredith wasn't laughing, but I couldn't stop smiling. I mean, really, how often can you say that you've been chased by an elephant? I turned, snapped one last picture of our African enforcer, and ran smiling to tell the tale to Thomas, our guide.
He looked at us, shook his head and chuckled, and said simply, "Don't leave the camp site."
Sound advice when you're in Africa.
