The lazy weekend and final hike

The happy hikers ready to go.

Since we are on holiday, we might as well have a holiday from the holiday.  Plans to hike the northern reaches of Zion today were eventually not realized.  Instead a morning of lounging and reading followed by a slow breakfast of wonderful, blueberry pancakes. 

Wall street Canyon, Bryce Canyon NP

Patrick was slow to rise, having spent too much time reading in bed last night and when he did, it straight off to the hot tub and more reading.  Returning from the hot tub and ready for breakfast, he declared that he needed to save the rest of Book three, The Girl who Kicked the Hornet’s Nest, for Salt Lake City and the flight back home.

Hoodoos at Bryce Canyon, NP

Having surrendered to the slow pace of the day, we continued on reading and then for a hearty round of canasta.  Roberta continued her trounce of all of us again promising Patrick a victory, but instead delivering a fatal blow to our card playing egos.  She’s on a tear these days, not to be stopped.

Patrick proudly displaying his new
western apparel 

Another hunting and gathering trip to get more food gave us a hearty dinner of pasta and a plate of fruit and cheese.  Before dinner Roberta went for a evening stroll down towards Grafton, a nearby ghost town.  Having dinner on the table I gathered Patrick and we drove out to find Roberta.  She dragged us further to have us see the old town in the evening light, but as we headed the short distance along the road we found a fist-size tarantula walking done the road, which required a stop and a few photos from Patrick’s phone. After dinner a fun evening of reviewing and editing Patrick and Roberta’s photos and some stargazing to finish the night.

One of the many Bryce Canyon arches

Roberta woke us up to get ready for another day of hiking, this time in the northern reaches of the park, the Kolob Canyon area.  We began the trail by 9:30 AM and the temperature was a cool 70 degrees.  We had 14 miles of hiking of the La Verkin Canyon trail in front of us and the promise of scattered showers, or at least patchy clouds.  About halfway along the trail it was getting warm and we had only seen two other couples, the last couple we saw was only about a mile from the turn off to the Kolob Arch.  Shortly after our second meeting, with Roberta and Patrick in the lead, Bill stops dead in the same track as a rattlesnake had enough of the foot traffic and rattled up a storm of protest.  Rather quickly the snake uncoiled and headed off of trailside and slowly went towards the bush, but not before Patrick caught a fair number of photos of it.  The adrenaline rush was still a challenge to overcome. 

A curious Zion Bighorn Sheep

Kolob Arch seven miles in and seven more to go!

The final trek to Kolob Arch was relatively uneventful and when we got to the trails end we wondered – where’s the arch – as we came to a National Park sign that recommended that we end at the sign.  Someone with a bit of humor etched into the bottom of the sign – Arch, look up.  We smiled and yup, there it was.  It was a bit subtle, as the Arch had a backdrop of sandstone behind it and was not in strong contrast with it surroundings.  After lunch at the trails end, we hiked backed, stopping off along La Verkin River to cool our feet.  The last couple of miles on the trail took its toll.  With about four miles left to go we exhausted our water supply and we were at the hottest point of the day and the final climb back to the car park was still about 1000-2000 feet above us.

A welcomed (harmless) garter snake

Thank heaven we had Patrick, as he had a fair amount of stamina left and was able to take both his and our pack, leaving his struggling parents to carry their sorry bums up the final mile of trail.  Back in the car, we hightailed it back to the park entrance and quenched our thirst on the potable water at the ranger station.  Some ten miles further down the road and three big Gatorades made us all human again and reflect more favorably on the day’s hike.  A dinner of stir-fried shrimp and vegetables on a bed of mushroom rice and another Sauvignon Blanc from New Zealand was a perfect finish to all the hikes and Kolob Arch. 

Dramatic scenes of building rain clouds

On Monday morning, before leaving for Salt Lake City, we took in a stop of Grafton, our local ghost town.  The town was originally built in the mid-1800s and was a Mormon out post in the Deseret Dixie territory (now that is something worth Googling…).  There are several buildings and sheds, as well as a cemetery with several graves dating from an Indian raid on the town, some of the retaliation raids between the Navajo and Mormon at the time.  The town of Grafton was used in about a half dozen movies, most notably, Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid (we suspect it was the from the scene with Katherine Ross and Paul Newman on a bike, but we need to check it out soon).

The end of the trail

Back in SLC, checking e-mail, ugh, dinner Italian, hotel, early afternoon flight, end of holidays and still smiling.

Holiday midpoint, needing a rest

The avid reader and hiker needing a slow day of golf

With tired legs and need to recharge, Patrick and Dad head off to find a golf course in St. George, while Roberta decides to finish off one book and start another.  After some struggles with adjusting to the putter and pitching wedge, we head off to the first tee with clubs and cart to take on the heat and the course.  Although it got up to just above 100 degrees on the course, it was a bearable temperature being very low humidity and a nice breeze.  Of course, it would not have been so easy to take without the shelter and comfort of our golf cart.

Driving to Bryce Canyon National Park

The game was lots of fun.  We only had someone behind us for the first two holes and then the rest of the day was fairly free flowing.  After nine we stop for a brief lunch.  As we come back onto the course there is a crowd of about 20 junior golfers starting the back nine.  They immediately stop to allow us to pass through.  We are down on the tenth fairway, at the edge of the rough, when one of the course workmen drives his cart over to us and says that he had to come by and “shake the hand of a real cowboy golfer!”  Patrick smiled and shook his hand.  The fellow drove off and we laughingly smiled at the event.  Patrick later noted how he has the cowboy down, if only he could manage the golfer part.

A hiking pause on the trail at Bryce Canyon

On the drive back we pick up Roberta and headed into Springfield to continue some more hunting and gathering at the local market.  Once we returned to the homestead a hearty game of canasta ensued followed by a dinner of mushroom rice, stir-fried vegetables, and sautéed Portobello mushrooms.  After dinner we enjoyed a plate of freshly sliced peaches, Anjou pears and aged Gruyere. 

Roberta was anxious for more exploration and another hike.  We headed off early the next day to explore Bryce Canyon National Park as soon as we could extract Patrick from his morning hot tub ritual and his complete envelopment in the second Stieg Larsson volume.

A Ravens fan, Patrick needed a close-up of the mascot

Yes, in between hikes this has been a book tour, with Patrick leading the way.  The flight from DC started Patrick off with book one, The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo.  Patrick was hooked and needed to read every page immediately.  By the third day of holiday he was transitioning to volume II, The Girl who Played with Fire, and devouring ever faster.  We needed to get him on the road to Bryce and so we forced him into the back seat and off we went.  Oh yes, later in the day he announced he finished it – a two-day turnaround time.

Hoodoos along the Bryce Canyon trail.

Bryce, the smaller cousin of Zion, is somewhat, but just less crowded than Zion, but no less a great sight to behold.  The park has many hoodoos and lots of nice hikes.  We enjoyed the park shuttle and headed off to the end of the shuttle area where we started the Peek-a-boo loop hike.  The trek straight away takes you down into the canyon with plenty of switchbacks and steep overlooks.  We immediately leave behind the crowds on the hike and pass only the occasional hiker along the way.  The hoodoos are magical, taking on all sorts of imaginary shape of people, animals and odd objects.  The sky is a brilliant blue with wisps of high clouds, the ground a rich mix of layered reds and white, and the trail is marked by occasional seeps that tells you that water is somewhere, but not in the air. 

Sunrise and sunsets were always a treat

Towards the end of the Navajo loop trail we begin to run into the crowds as we close in on an area called Wall Street, which is a tight narrow canyon, sometimes less than ten feet wide, but up to hundred feet tall and spotted with an equally tall pine tree that is reaching up to the sun.  Here the Bryce crowds are queuing up waiting to take a great photo in the bright red walled canyon.

The sound of this rattle made Bill jump rather quickly.

Our journey to Bryce took us out the east side of Zion, through the mile long carved tunnel, a tunnel carved through the sandstone back in 1927-30.  It is a work of art and engineering, with three or so portals cut out to view the majestic peaks of Zion.  Coming back into Zion in the early evening we caught the setting sun and new views of the sandstone cliffs.  The trip back also gave us the second chance to see the park’s Big Horn sheep.  This time we were in a good position to stop and watch the sheep graze away with the setting sun.  Again Patrick captured the moment with a true knack of setting and light.

The hikes begin, days three and four

Patrick and Dad hiking in central Zion NP

With dawn I wake up Patrick and ask him about photograph taking and enjoying the morning.  He eagerly rolls out and is ready for the sunrise.  We watch the horizon and the slowly creeping light of the day spreads out over the terrain.  There are no dramatic moments, just a slow awakening of the day.

In awe of the Navajo sandstone cliffs

The hummingbird feeder provides a continuous thrill with visitors lining up to drink from the fount. At times five birds might be sipping from various ports with others flittering around, just behind the sipping crew.  Changing f-stops and shutter speeds, Patrick explores how to capture the feeding frenzy.

We linger until 8 AM and decide that we need to head into the park, which means stopping just outside the park to wait for the shuttle.  Zion has removed much of the car traffic in the central park of the park, but still others need to drag their car into some areas.  Happily we find our way in and begin our day of touring and walking.

Moon rise from the back deck of our house.

The building crowds of people amaze us by mid-morning.  Later in the day the park is full and the more scenic walks are shared with hundreds.  We have the conflict of wanting to commune with nature and having this setting all to ourselves, while recognizing that so too do many hundreds of other hikers.  It is good to see so many hikers, and then again not.

At one time one of the hikers noted that it was like a UN hiking convention.  I smiled at the happy thought.  There were plenty of Europeans and Americans, both North and South, and far fewer Asians.  We suspect that the strength of the dollar, or not as the case is, has led to a strong westward flow to the tourist travel. 

Bighorn sheep in Zion  NP

After an overnight recharge and a decision to try new areas of hiking, we head off into the mid-section of Zion NP to check out the less talked about areas of hiking.  What a score.  The drive north from Virgin, UT, was relatively straight up the Colorado Plateau to the top where the dark Cenozoic lava flows cap off the majestic, but barren white splays of Mesozoic Navajo sandstones.  The road winded along, except in areas where we occasionally followed the narrow peak of the ridge and either side of the two-lane road faded quickly away to an abyss that lay some hundreds of feet below.

Patrick hiking the canyons of Zion.

On top of the Zion plateau the environment changed dramatically from desert scrub to pine forests and large open meadows.  As we turned off the main road we follow a dirt track through the forest and find an empty and remote viewpoint from which we can survey the park for as far as the eye can see.  The lava viewpoint is listed at 7900 feet and we can look down and south towards the main valley of the Virgin River in Zion National Park. We spot our hiking trail and hunt with the binoculars for wild game along Wildcat canyon; our prey eludes us, but we will be vigilant throughout the hike.

Our trusty rental car makes the trek to the trailhead, albeit with the occasional bump on the underside.  Here again, we are the only car at the trailhead; what a stark contrast with the day before – could this be the same national park?  The trail promises a great view, but we have little to go by, as our map does not have a track plotted. 

Whitetail doe

The trail leads us in and out of forested areas and open rocky ridges.  We hear some other hikers, but never run into them.  Along the wildcat canyon trail we find lots of carnivore scat and the occasional dog footprint, but no sightings of promised cats or otherwise, aside from ravens and other big birds in the sky.  A couple of hours into the hike we come to a split in the trail at a meadow and head out in the direction that holds promise of a vista.  Another 10 to 15 minutes and our trail reveals a great landscape, with a ridge of lava surrounded left and right by small peaks of Navajo sandstone and off in front of us, about a mile away, is a massive peak of sandstone complete with a high and remote, arched cave that is probably about 50 feet across.

Lower emerald pool

The vista point gives us a chance to rest, enjoy our limited supply of food and water and dry out the packs and our shirts.  We were fortunate at this elevation the temperature has been cool, perhaps in the seventies and this, combined with frequent trail sections through forested areas makes the journey easy to take.  The hike back is a more muted and determined one.  We realize that we should have brought more water or perhaps not gone so far.

Welcoming us towards the end of the trail is the decaying wheels and axial of a wooden carriage.  When we make it back to the car we are bushed and reckoning that it was likely a ten-mile sojourn, more than what we planned for, but the trail and views were great rewards for the tiredness.  A return to the homestead for baked ziti and a review of photos gave a nice finish to the night.

Day two: heading to southern Utah

Enjoying the geology at the top of the ski lift above
Alta, Utah

One needs more time in Salt Lake City, but this is sometimes a challenge to the mind.  Good breakfast, lots of pre- and post-planning for the trip south to Zion, tension over how to accomplish all, and plotting, packing, leaving, shopping and driving.  Toll taken and we begin the long drive.

Patrick in Zion, with his new cowboy hat

High mountains to the east, still wedged with high snow patches, to the west and more muted, lower still ridges and peaks.  The countryside is rugged and not east coast looking.  Traversing the state is both long and at time tedious, but always changing and relieving much for a geologist to think about. There is much to be gained and imagined when thinking about the shapes and colors of the terrain.  It is invigorating.

After about 5 hours we leave I15 the big stretch between heaven and hell, which depending on your perspective includes just two big cities: Las Vegas and SLC.  On the march, beyond the halfway point we pass by Mount Baldy in the Tarsham Mts.  The starkness and majesty is a bold statement of what we can expect.  Taking the turn eastward towards Virgin, Rockville, and Springvale gets us immediately into the scrubbed sandstones that is Zion. 

Our house of the week just outside of Zion National Park

Soon we have the Virgin River on our right and we pass through the small, comfortable, but struggling towns of Virgin and Rockville to find the old iron bridge over the river.  It is early evening and finally the earth is cooling down; the three degree temperature drop makes 100 a distant memory.  We find our palace and indeed it is.
Leaving the humidity of the east coast was strikingly obvious.  Outside walls hung live lizards defying gravity and time, while knowing that they end up catching their food.  Moving in brings lots of pleasures and unknowns of a new kitchen and surroundings.  We should have brought sharp knives, yup, they have lots of oil, and oh, did we bring a corkscrew and popcorn?

view out the dinning room window of our house, looking at Mount Kinesava

Bedrooms explored, the hammock, the view and more; we are happy here.  Patrick slips away and then returns to strike a super pose with his newly acquired black cowboy hat and long-horn silver belt buckle.  Hands on hip and smiling much more like a cowboy singer than a ranch hand, he is pleased with the SLC purchases for his month-previous birthday gift.

A black chinned hummingbird at the house feeder

Watching sunset out one window, and highly active hummingbirds out another was the best setting to enjoy yellow fin tuna draped in wasibi cream, joined by garlic-grilled asparagus and panned fried potatoes.  Oh yes, there was a nice Marlborough Bay, Sav Blanc to rinse away the dust, too.  Day two provided more rewards.

Utah holidays, just before the academic year starts

Transitions: they are painful, but rewarding.  I needed to get back to writing.  Last night we landed some two hours late in Salt Lake City, but after viewing the THOR movie and an uneventful night, we were ready for a holiday. 

Patrick, did anyone say breakfast in bed!

This morning we captured a picture of Patrick having his first (and only, if we are paying) breakfast in bed.  Roberta and I presented the idea last night to Patrick and he lit up.  It seemed liked a fun idea and the smiles on Patrick’s face in the morning told us it was worth doing.

After a pathetic demonstration by me for not stopping work, Roberta put her foot down at 8:30 AM and said that she was going to breakfast.  Patrick’s fabulous breakfast tray, a rather extra positive delivery lady, and the wonderful bright morning sky overlooking the Wasatch Mountains all said, lets begin holidays.  I unfortunately woke up (~6 AM) with lots of great ideas and needed to get them on “paper”.

On the Albion Meadows trail, Little Cottonwood Canyon

We headed off to a place identified last night on my fancy new android cell phone.  Yes, it was listed as having an 8 AM opening, but they met us at the door pleading that start time was at 9 AM.  We took the long way back towards our hotel and found a nice place across the street from our hotel.  It served great; yogurt, granola and fruits (Kevin, what did you think), along with bagel and cream cheese and super coffee.  The shop also hosted an art gallery and we took full advantage of what was on offer.

Although it was early August, Spring in the
Wasatch Mtns was just beginning.

The best part of the breakfast coffee shop was the conversation with the owner, with who we discussed our day’s touring.  She persuaded us to reconsider Antelope Island (on the Great Salt Lake) – at this time of the year it is rather smelly and full of flies.  She recommended Little Cottonwood Canyon and a high alpine hike.

Elk in Wasatch Mtns.

This was the perfect start to our holiday.  We were all ready to start the trip with a gentle, 2+ mile hike at better than 7000 feet above Alta, Utah.  The walk was super, sky clear, air and temperature perfect and, true to reports, spring flowers just came out last week (after the snow melt).  The alpine meadows were rich with many pastel colors and more promise for the higher regions.  Patrick was in his element and took many hundreds of pictures.

We got to the final turn of the Albion trail hike and decided to take advantage of the Germania Pass trail. It was a stroke of fortune to find the walk and enjoy the best of the region. 

There was still a good deal of snow in the
mountains.

A very late lunch turned into a good idea for a dinner, giving us enough time to catch the end-of-season-quality, Sunday night Sox-Yankees game in our hotel room.  The holiday began with a smile.

Enjoying Zanzibar’s east coast

Hibiscus flower, a common site throughout the island of Zanzibar

And now we have reached the final destination of our family holiday, Jambiani, the east coast of Zanzibar Island.  The town of Jambiani is relatively small and simple, as most places are on this east coast.  We rented a wonderful beachfront villa for three days of rest and coastal relaxation after our arduous safari.  ;-)  We found the rental on the web; it is owned by an Italian living in Italy, as are many of the properties along this coast [our taxi driver one time referred to the area north of where we were living as “Milan South”.]

Our rental, Kipepeo Lodge, was a great place and the swimming pool wasn’t too shabby.  It was great to be able to just sit back and relax and have three days of not switching beds.  We were ready for visitors, because the place had enough beds to accommodate about 14 people at once.  In addition, the fact that the place had a full time manager, house cleaners and cook who lived in adjacent houses inside our little compound was also another greatly appreciated amenity.  We were living in style.  You could imagine, we didn’t want to leave…

Mohammed, the house manager at Kipepeo
Lodge, presenting Bill's lobster dinner  

From this wonderful location we left the next morning to explore more of Zanzibar.  Kevin and Patrick headed out to snorkel on the reef off the coast, whereas Nana (aka Bibi), Donna, Roberta and Bill were off to a spice tour -- Zanzibar is world-famous for its spices.  Kevin and Patrick had a traditional dhow pull up to the beach to bring them out to the reef.  Cool.  The others hopped into our taxi and headed west, back into the central part of the island.

Traveling the roads of Zanzibar (or mainland Tanzanian for that matter) is a bit of an exercise is hoping not to get noticed.  Let’s just say that you commonly get pulled over by the local police and commonly the driver is required to answer a series of questions about his vehicle, most of which there is an expectation that one of the answers will provide an opportunity for a traffic violation, no matter how small or insignificant, and this will lead to the levying of a fine, which goes into the pocket of the policeman. Of course, don’t expect to get a receipt.  We knew about the practice, but our taxi driver (he was with us for all the traveling we did after leaving Stone Town) gave us his frank opinion about his perception of the corruption occurring on the highways of Zanzibar.  Sure enough, we were stopped many times on the way to the Spice tour.  It wasn’t until the last stop, only about a mile from the spice farm where we were going, that the policeman pushed his demands the greatest.  I suppose there was a desire to not be too blatant in front of the mzungus (white people), so the policeman took our driver’s license and sent us all on the way, with the full expectation that our driver would let us off for the tour and come back to “pick up his license”.  Yes, as expected, our driver returned with a little less money in his pocket.  [Mind you, we are not really taking about large sums of money, as our driver lost 2000 shillings in the deal, which is about $1.30.]  But, I suppose this adds up for the cop on the street.

A nutmeg seed surrounded by mace, the red filament material.

The Zanzibar Archipelago is also known as the Spice Islands and our Spice tour was fantastic. The photos clearly show the happiness of the moment.  Once we arrived, we were immediately introduced to tumeric, a root that will readily coat you in the typical Halloween yellow-orange color once you break it open and touch the inside of it.  We went on to see cinnamon, vanilla, pepper (white and black), lemon grass, ginger, star fruit, nutmeg, mace, and cloves.  Our guide and his assistant were super; they were full of all sorts of stories and very happy to accommodate our questions and needs.  At one point Nana was struggling a bit and so the assistant went off and brought back a chair for her to sit on in between stops.  Of course, she objected to the pampering, but readily gave in.  While walking from area to area looking at the various plants, the assistant was all the while making things with the materials of the forest farm, hence the attractive accoutrement that we ended up wearing. The tour was informative and eye opening.  We were amazed at how much of the materials are used for cooking and various medicinal purposes.  Although we were dutifully told how one of the plants gave rise to the famous Chanel Number 5 perfume, a check of Wikipedia (for what’s that worth) did not reveal any links, but I should ruin a good story with too much fact checking…

Bibi and her court at the Spice farm on Zanzibar

The Reef tour was somewhat different, but nonetheless enjoyed by Patrick and Kevin.  The dhow and its drivers took them out to the reef, which was a boat ride about a kilometer straight out.  When they got there, the driver just stopped the boat.  Kevin wondered for a minute and then asked him are we here and he replied, perhaps in nearly all the English he knew at the time, “here, ndio”.  [Ndio, a handy word in swahili; it means yes.] They both had a great time swimming in the famous “Sting Ray Channel”, as the reef area is identified in the tour book, and Patrick especially when he took his turn at the helm of the mighty ship.  I’m certain that Patrick was listened to stanza of Klaus Baudelaire’s Pirates of the Caribbean music as he steered his Black Pearl back to port!

Captain Jack Sparrow (aka Patrick) keeping a steady
course with his dhow on the Indian Ocean

Our next day in paradise was spent doing the more pedestrian activities of a beachcomber, including walks, shell collecting, sleeping, sun bathing and, of course, a vigorous game or two of canasta!  Patrick’s collection of shells, after about 30 minutes and 30 yards, was most impressive.  There was a lot to be harvested from the beach.

Only part of the shell harvest from the beach!

Finally, we could not leave our Zanzibar adventure without telling you about lunch at the local cooking school.  It was super, but we went overboard on the desserts.  The school is for locals of Jambiani and surroundings.  Canadians started this nonprofit school that teaches the students about cooking, restaurant and hotel management, accounting and other useful aspects of the tourist industry, but with its central focus on cooking.  The meal was a big hit and so too were the desserts, although they alone were a meal.  We met our match and could not complete the challenge of finishing our desserts; even Patrick found it impossible to eat more than just his.  But these were just some of the challenges that we faced on our great African safari.  

Exotic Stonetown, Zanzibar

Tipu Tip's Residence.  He was the last
slave trader in Stonetown

We left Arusha for Stonetown, Zanzibar, the only real city on the island and the site of the last legal slave trade.  It was a nice and relatively smooth flight, which provided us with a nice, albeit brief, view of the top of Mount Kilimajaro.  We also enjoyed the company of one of one the past presidents of Tanzania on the flight.  We didn’t catch his name, but his presence was duly noted with full acknowledgment (and we were all required to remain seated while he and his entourage departed the plan upon arrival in Dar).

We knew when we were leaving Arusha that we were leaving the comfort of inland Tanzania, where the heat is dry and the nights can be cool.  Getting out on to the tarmac at Stonetown airport was, however, surprisingly comfortable.  That transition was short lived, for Stonetown turned us into noodles with its humidity. 

Roberta admiring a typical Zanzibar door
 to a residence in Stonetown

We stayed at Africa House Hotel in Stone Town, a wonderful and historical building that used to be the British Officer’s Club.  The building is right on the beach-facing road pretty much in the heart of the city.  The street address is Suicide Lane, which was a bit of a worry.  I don’t think we got to a good state of understanding how it got its name (although one rumor is that this was the only way out for the slaves that were sold there).

Knowing that it was the former British Officer’s club was a bit unsettling, but the interior and its decorations has likely changed little since it stopped being a BO club.  This is not to say that the place wasn’t up to quality. On the contrary, the hotel has been kept in great shape, there is lots of detail in the building that made for most interesting viewing and study and the rooms were rich with character.  

Sunset Lounge, Africa House Hotel,
the place to be at sunset in Stonewtown

We each had our own 4-poster bed draped with mosquito netting.  The beds were made from solid heavy wood, almost an ebony wood.  The height to the bed was so high that by the second day we needed to ask for a stool for Mom, just so she could get in and out of bed, otherwise it was a complete jump to the floor for her to get out of bed.  Also, our rooms had these really cool wooden chests that were carved and decorated in traditional Zanzibar style.  Kevin showed me that like his, mine had a secret compartment in one of the drawers.

We had three rooms, which all faced the Indian Ocean, which was only just across this quiet street.  We went upstairs from our bedrooms to the Sunset Bar, perhaps the most famous lounge in all of Zanzibar and every night it proved to be the most popular, at least from about 6 to 9 PM.  The lounge was a rather large sheltered patio region with lots of ceiling fans and it all opened to the Indian Ocean and typical dhow boats anchored in the immediate harbor.  The setting was spectacular, the heat and humidity took some adjustment.

Kevin visiting hooka heaven in the
lounge of the Africa House hotel

Just behind the Sunset Bar was an enormous Hookah Lounge, which had a strong attraction for Kevin.  We had photographic evidence of him enjoying the pillows and hookah-ing away, at least for the camera.  The two lounges and the corridors, the lobby, and stairways were all wonderfully decorated with Zanzibar style and there were plenty of early 20^th century photos all around the hotel.

We decided to have dinner at the Hotel restaurant the first night there, as it was rated highly as one of the better places in town to get dinner.  It lived up to its reputation.  We were eating out on the veranda with only about three or four other tables of guests when a strong wind gust came up and knocked over one of the umbrellas providing shelter for the dinner tables.  Many of us quickly responded to batting down the hatches, but at the same time we turned our attention to the night sky, the full moon on the Indian Ocean and worried if the Black Pearl had come to port.  We prepared ourselves for the onslaught of Captain Barbosa and his motley crew of pirates.  [You just have to watch – Pirates of the Caribbean if you don’t know what I’m talking about.]

Our breakfast dining area, complete with a
view of the Indian Ocean just beyond the veranda

The next day, with our trusty guide of Zanzibar, we went for a self-guided tour of Stone Town.  We enjoyed the outdoor market, although parts of it required a strong nose.  The day’s harvest of swordfish had come in and were being prepared right there in the open area, with some gutting occurring quite close to city drains that head straight to the sea.

We took a tour of the old Slave market area and saw the very gruesome and pathetic conditions of the cells where they kept the slaves before auctioning.  We then went to the open area, which was the city market pits, where the slaves were auctioned off. There is a moving art piece there, a sculpture of five Africans chained by the neck to one another, down in a pit to where their shoulder were at ground level. It is a very sad history of Zanzibar’s slave trade, which lasted to the 1870’s and was only made illegal after David Livingstone made a strong appeal to the British parliament.

Slave Market Memorial in Stonetown, Zanzibar

Later we continued our tour of the old town by stopping in some of the shops, seeing spice merchants, retailers of arts and craft, makers of the famous Zanzibar chests of dark wood, complete with intricate carvings and brass inlays, and other sights.  Mom and Donna checked out one of the churches and found a nun named Winifred.

Later in the day we had lunch, rested and adjusted to the heat of the mid-day.  Kevin and Donna took in the beach and the rest of us relaxed in our air conditioned rooms and later mixed it up with a rousing game of canasta in the Sunset Bar.

To Arusha and beyond!

Yellow Billed Stork

It was our final night in the bush.  We get our first taste of rain.  Charlie reminds us that the wildebeest take full advantage of the rain.  Their migration is following the rain in search of areas where there is water and plenty of fresh new grass upon which to graze.  It will be the area where the wildebeest will give birth.  It was surprising to hear that the mothers will hold back giving birth until the conditions in the environment are just right.

Hartebeest

The wildebeest and other animals are passing close to camp as evening draws upon us.  Patrick is thrilled to follow them off behind our tents.  We have our final night in the camp and refreshing morning sunrise.

The drive back into town continued to bring new surprises.  We pack up and head back to the main road, which will take us almost an hour to reach.  As we head out, Kevin notices swarms of insect in the road.  A quick maneuver to close up the windows was made.  However, these are not bees or other nasty beasts, they appear to be smaller than common houseflies, perhaps little gnats.

Rednecked Spurfowl

Charlie tells us that these flies come out with the rains.  The sight was amazing, there were literally many hundreds of these small funnel clouds of gnats that stood about 10 feet tall and were about 2 feet wide at the top.  We drove along the road for at least a mile passing these spiraling clouds of flies.  It was just another amazing moment of how life just springs alive with the rains.

As we reach the main road we have to retrace our steps back through the Ngorongoro conservation area, the National Park, and out again to get to Arusha.    This means, however, that we go past the Masaai, and we have hopes of seeing the young boys who are in their initiation costume.  Hooray, Mom gets here photo and the world is right!

Bibi advising her Masaai soon-to-be-Warriors

[You'll have to ask Mom about her name "Bibi".]  It is a long road and it takes us over seven hours to get back.  We head straight to the airport east of Arusha, just in time to catch our flight to Zanzibar and our next adventure.