Thursday, July 21, 2016

Chumbe Island Coral Park and Conservation Connections

July 16. This is an important date in the dreams of two women.

July 16, 1960 is a day Jane Goodall writes she "shall remember all my life. It was when I first set foot on the shingle and sand beach of Chimpaneze Land--that is, Gombe National Park. I was twenty-six years old."

July 16, 2016 is a day I also shall remember. It was the day I set foot on the white sands of Zanzibar Island, and then an hour later, via boat, on the small island of Chumbe.
Chumbe Island Coral Park is one of Jane Goodall's favorite places in Tanzania. She's visited many times, and when looking at her photo, and thank you note in the education/visitor center classroom, I knew I was one step closer.

One step further along the path of my career and my disposition towards environmental education and conservation/ sustainability. I was so giddy, to put my money where my mouth is, and spend two nights on this dreamy model of sustainability. All proceeds support environmental education and both marine and forest conservation, including research.

In the space of the main building, orginally built in 1906, was the visitor center. The open air German engineered design hosted a welcome area, kitchen, dining nooks, classroom, and main hall. Six guests gathered on the green sofas for an introduction to our stay. It was a bit like summer camp--the turtle shaped chalk board listed our activities and the times--snorkleing at 11:30, followed by lunch, then rest, then a forest walk at 3, then dinner, and then a crab walk at 8:30. As I listened to the education manager and the hospitality director outline the days, I also made note of the low coffee table. It was covered with field guides; neatly splayed books on birds of East Africa, mac-like-laminated-guides to corals, sponges, fish, and mollusks of the Western Indian Ocean; Small booklet of a specialized flora and fauna of Chumbe; special field guides compliled by a German family of all the underwater life they've documented in colored photographs in the 12 years of visits to the island (with scientific, German, English, and Kiswahili common names). I would paw through the books daily making notes of the worlds I new little about, and this island was designed to conserve. I was in heaven.

We followed Ulli, the Austrian education manager, to our bungalow #6. Each of the 7 bungalows is named for a marine critter, and we ended up in KASA--turtle. The poured concrete green smooth floor had a tile design of a green sea turtle! Kasa Kasa. Ulli explained the unique design of our accomondations--the reverse clam shell shaped thatched roof that collected rain from both short and long rain events to the filtration systems at the side of the bungalow. There, the rain water passes through layers of sand and gravel. The entire "foundation", if you will, was a sistern. Water is then pumped with a hand pump by the maintence staff to be used (in the showers and sinks) and futher filtered for drinking water (removing the tanins of the coconut palm frond roofs). The toilet is composting.  Zanzibar is known as the spice island, and hanging beside the toilet paper was a small wreath of cloves and cardamon. Of course, with specially designed ventilation systems, the composting toilet didn't smell. Ulli went on to explain the partnership with a women's cooperative for the organic soaps and shampoos provided, and reminded us that conventional (my word choice) products can harm the environment. In fact, we were cautioned about sunscreen in our packing list--and a printed note about laundry was hung in the bathroom, asking us not to do any. Solar pannels on the roof provided power for small LED lights above sitting spaces, the stairs, and the bathroom. The electrical cords were wrapped in coconut twine. In the loft, our bed--drapped in a billowing mosquito net, and larger than the tent we shared on Kili so we could share without a problem.

We quickly changed into swim gear to go snorkling! A quick briefing about what to expect, and how to help preserve the coral, and we flip flopped our fins into the little boat. The waters were an unbelievable color. 50 shades of blue. The entire west side of Chumbe Island is a marine coral park--special bouys ask boats to stay away, and fishing is not allowed. As a result, the coral was the finest I've ever seen. Brain, Mushroom, Knob, Staghorn (in many colors--blue my favorite), Grape. And then the fish! Orbicular bat fish swimming so close we could have touched them; Moorish Idols with the long white whisp; trumpet fish (and you know I tada-ed into my snorkel like a kazoo when they passed!); blue spotted ribbon tail sting ray; zebra humbugs; chocolate dipped; wrasse with yellow spots; powder blue surgeon fish; blue star fish;  more more more!

I loved the bouyancy, and free floating spirit of snorkeling here. It was so peaceful, and plus, I was practicing a new trick. Matteus taught me to dive below the surface of the water, and forcely blow out the snorkel; I hadn't done that before. Past snorkleing experiences were in choppier waters, that left me tired and disoriented, often with poor quality gear, and less bright and alive life below the surface!

In fact, days later I would snorkel again off a wooden dhow sailing boat in Nungwi, the northern  tip of Zanzibar and that experience was more typical.
Our first drop into the waters, in an coral area that was known as Kendwa Coral Gardens, I could quickly tell the coral was disturbed. Further away from our beach front, we did find better coral and fish, but it was a fabulous reminder of conservation efforts like Chumbe Island Coral Park and the quality of those experiences.

After an hour or so, we returned back on Chumbe. We were treated to a marvelous lunch. The place began to feel, to me like Islandwood-- a school in the woods environmental education center on Bainbridge Island, near Seattle, with not only a similar mission, but also with exceptional food. The buffet was set up with warm dishes in clay pots on small coal fires. Dinners light by candlelight. My first taste of the octopus coconut curry, and this became the go-to dish for the rest of my days in Zanzibar. Pewza mchuzi wanaze. Mzuri sana.

In a post food coma, I wandered to a shade bed to take a nap. I missed the scheduled 3 pm forest walk. When I woke, I wandered around the area between my bungalow and the visitor center. I sat on the launch jetty stairs with Hussein and talked in Kiswahili and English about education, and environment. I was asking about, and dreaming of whales, and then he points out two black tipped reef sharks, swimming in the shallows near us. I walked down three more stairs to be closer and saw them brake the surface, black tips from dorsal fin and tail. I was beaming. So good.

Before dinner I caught back up with Matteus. He'd wandered the coral rag forest, checking out the adaptive strategies of the unique forest that exists on such thin soils. The entire island is fosilized coral that emerged from the ocean when the water levels dropped some billion years ago. Enormous clam shells frozen in time and rock, so to speak, line the trails on the East side of the island. Trees store water in their stems, and avoid significant evapotranspiration with waxy leaves. Thin shallow roots help take advantage of both short and long rains. In a tidal lagoon pool in the middle of the island mangrove forests grow.  Sally light foot crabs scurry around the knees of the magroves. Conservation of mangrove forests is another area of study here--they protect the coast lines from erosion, but humans, of course, in an effort to build, develop, and access the beaches on the main Zanzibar island (and other mangrove ecosystems wordwide) have removed them. The forest is now home to an introduced collection of dikdik, a small antelope. Five were brought to Chumbe in the 1990's for protection, and now there are seven. On the paths at dusk we spot moving shells. Hermit crabs! They criss- cross the sandy paths, leaving little tracks I traced with my finger when I crouched down to observe them more closely. At night, the forest also hosts a protected species of crab--the coconut crab. With a carapace like a lobster, they need no shell, and wouldn't fit into anyone elses anyway. They are huge--measuring up to 60 cm across. We could hear them skittereing in the leaf littler before we saw them. Two varieties--a red and a blue. So strong, they can crack a coconut shell.

After some warm spiced tea, we read by solar lantern, and then drifted off to sleep. Nearly a full moon, and moonlight shadows. Crashing waves a lullaby, the music of the ocean.

The morning music was made by the pigeons. Like doves, cooing. Long long da dut da da; long long da dut da da; long long da dut da da. It reminded me of the intro to Paul Simon's African skies. Try it. Sing along. Long Long, da dut da da; Long Long da dut da da; Long long da dut da du; Long long da dut da du. Joseph's face was as black as the night, and the pale yellow moon shown in his eyes. His path was marked by the stars in the southern hemisphere, and he walked the length of his days under African skies.

The skies swirled with welcomed clouds. From the top of the 133 stairs on the 1906 stacked square light house, I feel closer to the them. The wind whips through my salted curls. It chills my wet skin and rash guard after another day of snorkeling. It brings change. Be the change you wish to see in the world--Ghandi said. There is a quote in my classroom by Jane Goodall that reads: Every choice you make has an impact on the environment. What you do makes a difference, and you need to decide what kind of difference you want to make.

Today, July 21, I begin the next leg of my path, my adventure in Tanzania. My traveling companion and dear friend Matteus left already for home, and I leave this Zanzibar for Gombe. From the East coast shores to the Western banks of Lake Tanganyika.  Go West, young woman, go west. A familiar journey for me, as I seek (and maybe bring) change,  conservation, education, and inspiration.

Thursday, July 14, 2016

Ngorogoro Crater Conservation Area

What's the difference between a crater and a caldera, Anold, our guide and driver, asked?  My short answer, remembering Valles Caldera in new Mexico and Crater Lake in southern Oregon, is something to do with water. Close, he says. Life, he says. Crater has no life, caldera does. So, really, Ngorogoro is miss named. The caldera is 360 square kilometers, with walls 400-610m steep.


We drop gear for camp and take lunch at the only public camping option on the rim: Simba Camp 2.  An enormous ficus tree stands and in the middle of the camp grounds, and at least seven zebras are grazing. I get within metres from the new foals and almost get kicked taking a picture of them.

In a six seater land Rover type jeep, we drive down the dusty road, past the Ethiopian Candelabra cactus and my first sightings of Superb starlings, to the crater floor. Trees are hung with Weaver bird nests, the dry grasses a contrast to stream side greens.  Immediately, gazelles leap by the herds of wildebeests. I'm in awe. Matteus cracks a joke: what do you call a heard of wildebeests? A paper of gnus!

The light is luscious. Zebras, wildebeests, Thompson's gazelles, Grant's gazelles, cape buffalo. A golden jackal sneaks around like an fox. Later we see a black backed jackal, who wore a spotted cape. A spotted hyena was snacking on a leg of something. The pack were playing in the water's edge. Flamingos in the distance, at the edge of the salt pool.

I ask Anold to stop when I see a large bird beside the jeep. "Horny bastard!" I swear that's what he said. Matteus heard the same thing. But when I look up again at him, he's got the leather covered Birds of East Africa opened to the picture of the Kori Bustard. Oh. When the ostrich strides by, I keep thinking of the feathers on the ritualised Maasai boys we saw near Kartuga. Boys in all black, with ghost white patterns on their faces, ostrich feathers tucked at their brow. The pink skin on the neck and legs of ostrich like goose bumps.  Thighs so strong, you know this bird, no matter how big, can out run anything in this crater.

The safari guides are on CB radio, communicating details of wildlife to see. The crackle of Kiswahili is soft, and unclear. Could even be in code. We head towards some mounds, rolling hills with sandy coloured grasses. The huddle of Jeeps makes it clear we've joined this pack on purpose.

I'm not lying when I tell you I was surprised. I really didn't think we'd see them at all. Two male lions, in the shade of the rear bumper of one Jeep, and a male and female mating pair, just beside us on the road.

We watched them all closely for at a long while. The male mounted the female three times. Anold told us they will go at it every fifteen minutes. If there are no results of a pregnancy within a week, she'll be available again. We also watched him move and mark his territory. The two nearby males just napped. Like cats like naps.

Total we'd see 8 lions. Four more females, in three separate groups. One nala perched on a hill top near the bathrooms. "You mean I can get out of the car?!" I asked. "Go quickly." I'd say.

But the day went quickly, and Jeeps must leave the crater floor by six pm. They lock the gate on the accent road, and demand a fee of you are late. The accent road is recently paved, and we reach the rim with time to spare.

At dinner we share stories of wows and wonders with other travelers. The two expat women from Turkey and Canada who were teaching English in Dubai were fun. We sat near them at long cement topped tables under the picnic shelter. Each tour group laying out their own Maasai blanket table cloth to mark the space. Hundreds of us dined like summer camp, or a Harry Potter feast. We pulled on hats, and jackets, sipped tea to warm up in the cool night. By 8:30, in the cloudy darkness, I crawled into the tent to dream.

Sunday, July 10, 2016

Lake Manyara National Park

The list from the late day light safari of Lake Manyara National Park is a naturalist's dream.


The broad leaves of tropical road side plants wear a thin patina of red dust. I've seen it in many countries. Yet, here, there are acacia towering over, and bulbous baobab trees in the landscape. From my view point standing in the jeep, I feel like I can see forever. I also feel the East African wind in my hair, as I hold on the to the thinly padded bumper like a kid on a roller coaster.

Although, I'm not allowed to scream. Or make much noise when we spot the animals we are here to observe.

Here's the list:
Birds:
Hamerkop, grey headed King Fisher, great white egret, pelican, crowned lapwing, plover, yellow billed storks, Egyptian goose, grey heron, crowned cranes, black winged stilt, tropical Boubou, red billed hornbill, helmeted Guinea fowl, giant kingfisher, unknown juvenile owl

Primates:
Baboons, blue monkeys, red vervet monkeys

Wildebeest, elephants, zebras, warthog, cape Buffalo

Sure, I have photos. But here's one I couldn't quite capture; watching two scenes, one on either side of the dirt road, a tennis match volleying for my attention. One side: four elephants chomp chomping away, so close I could hear them burp, and so real I could monitor the shadows in their wrinkles. The other side: a tree full of chattering baboons.

Observing here in Tanzania, I'm beginning to feel like my hero, Jane Goodall. These dreams do come true.