The Victorians didn’t believe in Gorillas. This is a fact and it’s just one of the many amusing facts about a group of people whose hubris apparently knew few bounds.  At one point they also famously decided that there was nothing left to invent, so closed the patent office (although it soon needed re-opening when someone invented yet another device for covering the sexually provocative legs of pianos.)

Anyway, back to Gorillas because ridiculous as it seems to us now, it is of course a default position for most of us to at least question the existence of something that isn’t there for us to see.  Put another way, there’s a chance we only find what we look for.

A story caught my eye this week on the BBC website showcasing a study conducted on Rock Hyraxes, the thrust of which was to question whether all the extensive snorting and whistling noises that they make add up to anything more than..well, snorts and whistles.  At first glance, the conclusion, like most scientific papers seemed to lie somewhere between “definitely’ and “probably not.” 

But one of the things that caught my eye was the suggestion that “The hyrax is one of only a few mammals which have syntax.” And this is where I’m reminded Victorians and Gorillas. Because I wonder which is more likely – that God singled out a few animals (people, dolphins, hyraxes and the odd parrot) to be able to talk, then got bored and left the rest out, saying “Let Them Make Only Meaningless Squeaks All the Days of Their Lives”?  Or that those are some of the few animals we’ve got round to paying attention to?  I think it’s also known as observer bias.

Most of the many mammals that I’ve spent time watching in Africa, whether elephant, lion, or the countless smaller species (including the hyrax) or the Gerbils, Hamster (RIP) or Guinea pigs that my sons now keep, seem to make pretty significant use of vocal communication (roughly on a par with that of my sons).  I wouldn’t mind betting that the overwhelming majority are pretty good conversationalists…if only someone will listen.

Of course none of this would really add up to a hill of beans if it didn’t illustrate quite so clearly the contrast between our collective position as custodians of the planet and our total lack of qualification for the job.  The Victorian refusal to believe in Gorillas is pure comedy, but today’s misunderstandings – from climate change to how to stop rhino poaching (another thought provoking article) - are far less funny.

On the bright side, your husband may snore, but at least he doesn’t chew the cud (not regularly anyway).  In the early hours of this morning, I woke to a sort of grinding, snorting and stomping and struggled to remember where I was.  Through the tent flaps, the moon was reflected off the glassy surface of the Zambezi; a yellow glow from dust and the smoke of dry-season fires.  Crawling out of my sleeping bag to gingerly open the zip, I peered outside and found myself at about gut-level with an old male buffalo, about 10 feet away.

I had been dying to spend a penny for about 2 hours, but the whoops of hyena and the sounds of buffalo and hippo grunting just a stone’s throw from my pillow, had counselled a near bed-wetting strategy of staying put and thinking of deserts.  Finally, I slithered out of my tent and paused.  The buffalo languidly turned to look at me, and in a semi ducked position, I kept my eyes on him as I side-stepped 3 steps right, and then a couple of steps back until I was just on the other side of the tent, though still peering round the corner and geared for flight.  We both observed a respectful truce, and I executed an equally undignified return to the opening of the tent and flung myself through the gap, heart racing.

Apparently this is a fairly typical night in Mana Pools on the Lower Zambezi.  Helping with a game count of the park, I have spent the last couple days walking through one of Zimbabwe’s best wildlife destinations, and can confirm that it lives up to expectations in every way.  Watch this space for more.

We received this update from ATTA and thought you might be interested to see it:

"FOLLOWING A STATEMENT ISSUED ON SATURDAY EVENING BUT STILL OFICIALLY UNCONFIRMED  IT APPEARS THAT THE TANZANIAN GOVERNMENT MAY HAVE PARTLY BACKED DOWN IN THE FACE OF GROWING GLOBAL CRITICISM AND OPPOSITION TO THEIR PLANS TO CONSTRUCT A HIGHWAY ACROSS THE SERENGETI.

THE TANZANIAN GOVERNMENT HASAPPARENTLY  ASSURED THE UNESCO WORLD HERITAGE CENTER IN PARIS THAT THEY WILL SEEK AN ALTERNATIVE SOUTHERN ROUTE AROUND THE SERENGETI TO BRING ROAD ACCESS TO RURAL COMMUNITIES AND LEAVE THE SERENGETI PARK ROADS UNDER THE ADMINISTRATION OF TANAPA AND FOR TOURISM PURPOSES ONLY."

The proposed highway would have linked remote under-developed communities to larger hubs, cutting  through the park into which giant herds of wildebeest migrate between Tnazaani's Serengeti and Kenya's Masai Mara. But following strong world wide criticism of the project, and a recent visit from US Secretary, Hilary Clinton, it appears that the Tanzanian government has informed the United Nations' cultural organisation UNESCO that it had been dropped.

"The World Heritage Committee has received assurance on the part of the Tanzanian government that the highway project is abandoned .The committee has therefore decided not to list the site on its list of endangered World Heritage Sites because the threat has disappeared," said a WHC spokesman.

Tanzania's government had backed the road plan by saying that the country should start caring for its people as much as it did for its wildlife. But critics said it would destroy what scientists consider to be the "largest remaining migratory system on Earth" and lobbied hard against the project.

Serengeti Watch, urge caution, this organisation committed to preserving the Serengeti's ecosystem, said it feared the highway plan could still re-emerge at a later date.

"We do not consider this the final word in the Serengeti Highway saga by any means," the group said.

The Serengeti Highway was intended to link Musoma, on the banks of Lake Victoria, to Arusha.

The project's critics argued the road would achieve the opposite of what it set out to do by destroying a key tourist attraction and thus stripping local communities of their jobs.

Serengeti Watch said the government was now considering a highway that would wrap around the southern tip of the protected areas. It quoted a letter it said had been written by Tanzania's Natural Resources and Tourism Minister Ezekiel Maige.

Instead of cutting through the park towards Arusha, this new road would run "south of Ngorongoro Conservation area and Serengeti National Park."

Amongst other things, social media has sanctioned the voyeuristic tendencies within many of us.  Consequently it’s now okay to keep a much beadier eye on the doings of others than previously acceptable, without being considered even a little weird.  Therefore, I am unashamed to admit that I get regular feeds on a few individuals through whom I vicariously enjoy adventures when reluctantly tethered to my desk, and therefore incapable of having any of my own.

Within a few weeks, a couple of these souls have embarked/are about to embark on pretty incredible personal journeys and every few days I read with a mixture of awe and envy of their latest exploits, bug-bears and conquests.  One of my Facebook friends, Julian Monroe Fisher, will shortly begin walking across the belly of Africa, from the coast of Mozambique to the Atlantic in Angola.  The second person is someone I regard with the same curious incomprehension as a fax machine: I have no idea what makes it tick but think it is quite marvellous in any case.   Well-known ocean rower, Roz Savage, is a few days into her mammoth 4000 mile solo row across the Indian Ocean.

The blogs relate a repertoire of interesting happenings thrown across their paths (Roz seems to be frequently pelted by flying squid), and describes the very human afflictions which make life on the explorer’s pedestal sometimes less than comfy.  From painful blisters to sunburn, annoying insects to homesickness... hurrah, they are mere mortals after all.  I find myself searching for what motivates these people to take up the mantle of extraordinary endeavour.  Much like my great grandfather, who set off from Scotland in the early 19 hundreds to carve a new life for himself in East Africa, I imagine that much of the reward comes from stepping off the well-trodden path and relishing the unexpected.

Whatever it is that galvanises such people, the interesting thing is that the inspiration they provide can come in many forms and you can take what you will from it.  Whether it means choosing a different country to visit next year or throwing in a tedious job to do something on your own, pushing your physical and mental limits in running that marathon, or reading a controversial author...the message for me is that boundaries are there to be pushed and only in doing so do we make room to grow (or, less philosophically, experience the novelty of being hit in the face by air-borne seafood).

Nature is frequently required to remind us diminutive little bipedals who’s boss. For all our technological prowess, at the end of the day we’re still squishy, pink and about as impressive as limp lettuce in the face of our world’s capacity to awe. While sometimes these reminders come in devastating quakes and giant waves, at other times they are beautiful and gently surprising. This year, the rains in Namibia have topped the charts, breaking 100 year old records in terms of quantity and wreaking havoc on roads and previously high-and-dry safari camps. Some places received a year's worth of rain in a month.  This is all relative of course. We’re talking about a country which enjoys over 300 days of sunshine annually (I know, sickening). So when we say it’s been a record rainy season, bear in mind that the creatures of the Namib mainly subsist on sea fog and may only see 100mm of rain in the whole year. But, if you happen to be a tok-tokkie beetle and have to stand on your head every morning to catch drops of fog running down your back for your morning cuppa, you might agree that in the desert, a little rain goes a long way. Ordinarily, the colours of the Namib and wider Skeleton Coast are vivid and captivating. In fact, you run the risk of sounding like a stuck record and exhausting your personal store of enthusiastic adjectives as you exclaim repeatedly how simply astonishing it all is. Add a little water to the equation and you have tumble-weed grass turning from gun-metal grey to psychedelic green and deep-red sand wearing a carpet of yellow flowers. Shallow mirage-like lakes of water appear for the first time in a decade beneath the giant dunes of Sossusvlei . Late afternoon electric storms paint the sky with bruised purple clouds and sheet-lightning. There goes that blue planet, got a new trick and showing off again... If you haven’t planned what to do with all those public holidays at the end of April/beginning of May, think about heading out to Namibia to witness nature’s little party in the desert.

Have a look at these great pics from the Kulala conservancy near Sossusvlei on our Facebook page. Give us a call on +44 1747 898104 if you'd like to know more about safaris in Namibia. *The above image was taken on Wolwedans in the Namib Rand Reserve.  Courtesy of Wolwedans.