All of the available space around Richard's bay is being used for something- Eucalyptus trees are planted in rows, harvested like a crop. They are grown arrow straight, with leaf tufts and branches at the top, clear cut, stacked in rail cars or trucks then shipped off in the hold of big ships to other countries. Sugar cane is grown on the land not occupied by Eucalyptus. Where there is no farming, there are people. People live in compounds with high fences and razor wires curled like gift-wrap ribbon, festively garlanding the top. To enter a store not connected to the mall, you must ring a buzzer, wait a few minutes, then open the door, after a second buzzer sounds. Signs everywhere advertise security companies with "armed response". It is not lions, rhinos or elephants that people are trying to keep out, but other people.

We made our first excursion to the Umfolozi-Hluhluwe game park, (the latter word is pronounced shishuli, don't ask me why), driving about an hour north of Richards Bay. On the way, we passed the modern day Zulu villages. Round stone and grass peaked huts, slowly being replaced with square brightly painted, tin roofed houses, most with electricity, few with any character. People everywhere. Children playing along the highway, sometimes selling bags of lychee fruit or golf balls. Women walking along the highway, sometimes with large heavy objects perched on their heads. Cattle graze along the edges of the roads, tied (sometimes) with rope. Men are either walking, or sitting on the guardrail or on old sofas dragged out for the purpose of watching the cars and trucks go by.

The game parks are the best place for seeing the land as it was before man started to use it for farming. Umfolozi-Hluhluwe is a great place for viewing the "big five"- elephants, rhinos, buffalo, leopards and lions. We drove along the south road of Umfolozi, where Phil spotted an elephant performing his ablutions next to a riverbank. (South Africa is also the last place on the planet, besides a Jane Austin novel, where the word "ablutions" is used fairly regularly). We headed down a road to the right, hoping to get a clear shot with the Nikon of the elephant along the river. We failed to notice the eight tree trunks to the left, further up a hill. It wasn't until the tree trunks started to move that I realized they were actually two young bull elephants, scratching their behinds on a tree that was soon uprooted. Quicker than you would think was possible, with bodies the size of dump trucks; they walked Jar-jar Binks- style, toward our car. Phil slowly started to back up, not wanting to get stepped on as we were in their path, and not wanting to spin the tires, as our first inclination was "Holy car crushers, lets get the h--- outta here". Spinning tires and flying gravel, would not have been a good thing with these big guys. I am not sure Phil could drive the car that fast in reverse if they decided to charge. They stood in the road, looking at us, tusks up, ears fanning back and forth, gazing at the lime green car- puzzled. Obviously thinking we were the largest dung beetle they had ever seen. Eventually, they figured we were no real threat and lumbered off to the river. My Dad had told me that he really enjoyed the animals of Africa, on a visit a few years ago, (this from a guy that likes animals only for their nutritional value). He told me I would be amazed at how big they were. That was a colossal understatement. African bull elephants make their Indian counterparts look like cute pets.

On Saturday we drove to Durban to visit our Dutch friends on "Red Oranda" and "Cornellia". Phil had done a repair job on Red's mainsail while we were in Reunion and they promised to take us out to in South Africa for dinner. It was payback time. We stayed at a schmancy hotel in Durban, "The Royal"; Chocolates on the pillows and doormen in attire best suited for Amsterdam in winter, all to the tune of about fifty dollars a night. We had a lovely dinner out and went the following morning to a "braai", a cookout at Alistair Campbell's house an hour south of Durban. Both he and Fred, the other ham radio guru were in attendance. We toured Alistair's radio room and got the scoop on why the weather fax situation is at best, unreliable. The government decided that weather faxes were unnecessary and were going to end them entirely, until a small band of protesters stepped in. It was suggested to transfer the responsibility over to the Navy, who reluctantly agreed to do it. Voice weather is broadcast on VHF, which is fine if you are along the coast, but if you are arriving here from anywhere else the VHF won't go out further than twenty or so miles. So the HF fax is important.

While walking along the docks in Durban we saw one boat stripped of all deck gear, wife with battered face and husband in the hospital, all suffered the ill effects of being too near the mighty Agulhas just days after us. They did not have the right weather information.

Well I could go on and on about cruiser gossip, politics, weather and other musings- but the other reason we went to Durban was to pick up my sister at the airport. She is right here, right now, so no one has to suffer through any more of my drivel. APW

It's a shame that the world has come to this. Where we once practiced air raid drills during the Cold War, we now have to worry about dying without a moment's notice. People ask about the scariest part of our trip, expecting to hear tales about storms at sea. The threat on land is much greater. At least you can prepare for heavy weather. How can you prepare for a terrorist? The world has an enormous task ahead.

Tuesday, I pestered Amy to write the log, despite the fact that Whistle was visiting. I got it posted and we went to Meerensee to get a Rhino Pass. For those of you planning to visit several game parks in South Africa, a Rhino Pass gets you into all the parks for a one time cost of $50 US per year. An individual visit cost $4 for the car and $4 for each person. If you go with 4 people in the car, two visits would pay for the pass. We booked an overnight stay at the Hilltop chalet in Hluhluwe from our rented cell phone. Our Qualcom cell phone, from the US, won't work here. Surprised?

We stopped by the computer repair shop to see how Arnold was doing. The prognosis was not good. Seems the chip controlling the mouse was bad. Arnold would have to be sent back to Compaq or turned into "Arnoldstein" again. Amy decided to go the latter route. ("Arnoldstein" means removing his keyboard, using and external keyboard and an external USB mouse.)

We arrived at Hluhluwe on Wednesday afternoon and immediately went hunting for lions. We got directions, from another cruiser, on where we might find them. No such luck. Seems the lions hadn't heard about where they were supposed hang out. We did see lots of other animals, which Whistle thoroughly enjoyed. The best part of our stay was the night drive with a park guide. We saw a leopard a mere 10 feet from our open Land Cruiser. I got a bit of a chill at the thought of him leaping in with us. Maybe it was just the cool night air. We also saw Genet cats, bush hogs and a hyena.

Thursday, we drove around Umfolozi looking for the elephants. With 300 of these giants roaming the park, we were sure we could find at least one. How could you possibly hide them all? The day wore on without finding a single one. It was about this time that I thought that a hot air balloon ride over the park would be an excellent idea. We never did see any elephants, but were rewarded with a great view of this cheetah. At this game park there are 300 giant elephants and only 40 cheetahs. Go figure. We headed back to Iwalani around sunset, where Whistle planned a tour for the remainder of her stay.

After a rather late start on Friday, we headed inland. When I realized the distance we needed to cover to reach our accommodations in Tendele, I doubted we could get there before 10pm. I did my best to cover the distance safely, but my prediction of a late arrival was accurate. Not because of the distance, but the lack of signs and a good map. We had three paper maps and David DeLorme's Global explorer with GPS, which I happened to bring along. Despite the fact that we were often within 20 kilometers of the Royal Natal National Park, there wasn't a single sign pointing the way. By 7PM we were a bit hypoglycemic and seemed to be at our wits end. We traveled roads that were more like cow paths than roads to a National Park. Finally we decided that David had the best information. "In David we trust" Amy and I have been known to say and we followed the little green arrow on the laptop screen. That's about all we could see, as it was now dark and foggy. By 8pm we were entering the park and heading to our cabin. Thanks David!

The Royal Natal Nation Park puts a whole different look to the South African landscape. It's a bit like Switzerland, with steep green slopes and misty peaks. Not anything I would have expected.

We spent Saturday hiking to Policeman's Helmet. It was an enjoyable 3-hour hike that had us back to our cabin in time to avoid the afternoon thunderstorm. The high elevations are prone to stirring up the surrounding atmosphere.

Sunday we stopped at the Tatham Art Museum in Pietermaritzburg. Admission was free, so I wasn't expecting much. Boy was I surprised. The exhibits ranged from classics like Picasso, Manet and Degas to modern Native South African works. It was the modern works that shed more light on the political upheaval in South Africa's recent history. Leave it to artists to paint a picture worth a thousand words. I knew there were violent times in South Africa's past, but now they were finally being put in perspective.

This trip has opened my eyes to the world around me and South Africa is no exception. It's one thing to read stories in the newspaper or watch events on TV and another to be totally surrounded by them.

That's all for this week. When Whistle's log arrives I'll post it. I'm interested to see what her perspectives are on South Africa. PS

I was told by Kelcey to phone when we got within forty kilometers of their place so she could make arrangements for us to come in the last 17 kilometers by four-wheel drive vehicle. She had told me, when I made the initial arrangements, to make sure we arrived before dark because of the "attacks" in the area. She then asked me if we had insurance on our car, as there was a chance it could be "stripped." "Attacks?" "Stripped cars?" I carefully filed these phrases away for future perusal- storing them in the vaults of my brain away from Phil, until we were well on our way, or more to the point, over five hundred kilometers away from Iwalani.

We arrived with plenty of daylight to spare. I casually mentioned to Phil what Kelcey had relayed to me and we decided to drive the final 17k in, despite the forewarnings of the road. Kelcey told us to call in back an hour to let her know we had made it. She wasn't going to be there, but would arrive the following morning- we would be taken care of by "the boys". Our car rental agreement said nothing about going on dirt roads and a dented underside is less obvious than missing windshield wipers, bumpers and car doors. We have grown rather fond of dung-beetle-green Basil and Phil drove very slowly, with me sometimes walking ahead to move oil pan denting boulders out of the way. An hour and ten minutes later, never once dinging the car's underside and quite thankful that it wasn't raining, ( we wouldn't have stood a chance of driving in if the road had been wet) we arrived at the camp. It was just as well we took our own car in. The four-wheel drive truck that would have picked us up had no brakes.

We were greeted by four good-looking fellows- Andre, a young volunteer from Germany with a British accent. Vickers- a modern day South African cowboy, complete with gun in holster; Clayton- the South African King of the one-liners, and the ringleader Mitch, a South African with all the dignity and inner strength of the lions he is trying to protect.

Mitch has been struggling to remove lions destined for the "canned hunt" business and provide them with a quiet place to live, free from a gruesome final destiny. He explained to us that the "canned hunt" business is quite legal in South Africa and serves as a huge source of revenue for a very elite group of South Africans. A "canned hunt" is nothing more exotic than a very rich guy, carrying a big gun, shooting a drugged lion that is bred solely for the purpose of ending up in that "hunter's" trophy room. Because it is usually the head that ends up on the wall, the lion is shot first in the humerus to immobilize him, then in the chest for a slow death of exsanguination or suffocation. An average male lion head costs about $15,000 US, to grace some board room wall. This is very big money in South Africa. Not only are the private game parks involved, but people high up in the parks commission are in favor of it, as it provides good money and a way of dealing with the surplus animals at some of the game parks. Endangered animals are also taken illegally from the game parks and used in the "canned hunt" business. It was one such case that Mitch had been called in to testify. As a result, everyone was kind of on edge while we were there, because his testimony and evidence cut into the income of a lot of people. Unfortunately, for the animal's destined to become trophies, people who are trying to get rid of "canned hunts" somehow become less vocal as time goes by, from threats, or from just giving up. Some advocates have even turned out to be heavily involved in the business themselves.

After spending a weekend at Enkosini, I can say that this is a legitimate non-profit agency struggling to put an end to a gruesome business that should not exist. But as long as people think the display of animal body parts is attractive, the business will continue either legally as it does now, or illegally through bribes and underground movement of animals. It all goes back to the laws of supply and demand. As long as there is a demand, there will always be a supply. The people at Enkosini do not drive a fancy car and the lion's are well cared for. The lions are implanted with a "Norplant" like birth control chip, so they don't breed. Their enclosure is several acres of wire fencing, supplemented with electric fencing and a sophisticated alarm system that happened to go off while we were there. The main disease concerns are not FIV, Felv, panleukopenia or rabies, but TB from the whole calf fetus's they are fed from the local abattoir. Enkosini funds go to protect the animals, not to pad the pockets of some person sitting in an office in New York. Eventually, they will have six eco-friendly chalets where people can come and stay far from civilization, amongst animals that have been removed from the canned hunt business. Some of the chalets should be open by February of 2003.

That evening, we were treated to a traditional South African meal- a slow brewed stew of chicken, onion, spices, potatoes and cabbage, cooked in a cast iron cauldron over a wood fire. It was delicious and we didn't have to do the dishes. The next day we walked to a place where San people, otherwise known as bushmen, painted a scene depicting a small hunt. These paintings are thought to be visions of the "medicine man". The last "bushman" was seen almost one hundred years ago, near Royal Natal Park.

Afterwards, we went for a hot hike to a stunning waterfall on the property, bushwhacking part of the way down and then back up a steep rock strewn slope. Our doughboy, pan au chocolat, cruiser bodies were screaming for mercy the whole way- we thought the walk with my sister was a hike!

We still hadn't met the elusive Kelcey, the American financial analyst who came as a tourist and after falling in love with the lions, remained to help with Enkosini. She had been fielding reporter's questions in Johannesburg during our visit. Eventually, we met her as we were leaving- travelling with a baby spotted genet that she is hand raising.

Our safari will continue for a couple more days- but Iwalani is due to be hauled out on the 24^th of December and we must arrive in Durban before then. For more information on Enkosini and how you can help protect lion's from "canned hunts" visit enkosini.com

Phil, in record time, (with a little help from the gale force southwest winds, which helped to dry the bottom of the boat and even less help from me who ends up wearing more paint than gets put on the boat,) got us painted with our new RED Jotun bottom paint. Gone is Iwalani's green bottom. We are now a symphony of reds, maroons and pinks. We did not get the "toxic" Jotun that all the other yachties are going to great lengths to acquire here, as it is the last hold out for the skull and cross bones, tin saturated death mix.

"Why would you want to use that stuff?" I asked one other yachtie.

"Because I don't have to repaint the bottom of the boat for three years" he replied.

"But I heard that people have died sanding this stuff off" I quipped. (I wasn't going to bring up the point that by using that toxic stuff he was basically killing off half the ocean with it, as I didn't want to be known as a clam-hugger.)

"Yea, well" he said, "You do need to use a real respirator and get all suited up."

Now maybe I am just thick headed, but it seems to me, once you put this paint on, there will always be the risk that at some level, parts of it will always be there. Who's going to know years from now, when this guy is long dead, that the bottom of his old boat has really bad stuff painted on it?

Certainly not the guys in South Africa hired to do work on people's boats. At the very best, a worker here will put an old rag over his nose as he grinds off years of anti-fouling paint. I must admit, I had actually entertained the notion of hiring someone when we got to South Africa to take all the paint off- from the wretched International Micron CSC, to the precious, scarce, green Nautix.We would then just start all over with copper sheathing. But when we got here and I found out that the average worker gets paid 40 Rand a day, about 5$ US and would do the work with just a sock over his mouth, I just couldn't do it. We also have to keep our record of doing all the work on this boat ourselves, including boat equipment repairs and maintenance.

The whole labor thing is something I am still trying to figure out too. I try and relate everything to the amount it takes to buy a Coke. The Coca-Cola currency, if you will. In the US, when we left, the minimum wage was $5, or so, an hour. If you bought a Coke at a gas station it was .75- let's call it a dollar. So the unskilled US worker could buy 5 Coke's an hour, or 40 Cokes a day. In South Africa, Coke is about 3 Rand a can. Lets call it thirty US cents, even though the dollar keeps dropping- so the average South African can only buy 13 or so, Cokes a day, vs. the US workers 40 Cokes. Is there something wrong with my math here? Or is there something wrong with this picture? On top of this, is the dreaded 14% VAT- so it's a wonder the South African can buy anything at all. But of all the African nations this is the most prosperous. What does the South African get for all that VAT money? Not much that I can see. There are few policemen, I have never seen a fireman and there is no welfare. When a tiny little waif comes up to us with one palm outstretched and the other hand rubbing their stomach, saying they are hungry- they really are. We have developed a new system called the peanut game show. In order for a beggar child to win cash he or she must answer three questions:

What is the sum of 4+5?

What is the capitol of South Africa?

A real question, because I am still looking for the answer- It's either Pretoria or Johannesburg (my world Atlas was printed in 1993- it looks like they thought the whole South Africa thing was up in the air back then) ...and a simple letter recognition question. So far, everyone has ended up with the bag of peanut consolation prize and I don't have my answer for the capitol of South Africa.

With all our travelling through the Indian Ocean, South Africa seems to be a bustling exporter. Ships are leaving ports, lower in the water line than when they arrived- (if that means anything). And yet, there is this Coke thing. It really seems like this country should be right up in the wage ballpark with the rest of the top players- Europe, Australia the US. This country is loaded with gold, diamonds, trees, coal and lots of smart people- how can the Rand be so weak? I just don't get it. Maybe that's why I am a veterinarian and not an economist.

This whole foreign aid thing had always been a mystery to me too. Other countries besides the US give aid, lots of it to other African nations. Are we cheapskates if we cut it off? I was told that Bush cut off foreign aid to Swaziland, because the Swazi-King wanted to buy a new jet. Kudo's to Bush if that's true. But does aid really get to the people? Or to where it is needed? Zimbabwe is just to the north of us. White people really are being ousted off their farms, there is no fuel and people are starving. However, war torn Mozambique, also just to our North, is starting to come around. I gather it's a great place to buy used AK47's for about $18.00 US, or go Scuba diving. We found out that the reason there is no Pepsi here- is because Pepsi somehow did something to offend someone, somewhere- and now Coke is king. Pepsi is imported from Namibia- which is why we drove to Richards Bay from Durban one last time, so Phil could pick up his Pepsi specially ordered in!

We also decided to spend one last night in the Umfolozi game park. I had wanted to camp but there was nothing available as this was the biggest vacation weekend of the year. So we had to settle for a night at Hilltop, which we had already visited when my sister was here. (The other thing I still want to do is a five-day hike and camping expedition through the wilderness area of Umfolozi. It costs about 1000 Rand and they supply the food and tents. See www.kznwildlife.com or phone 27-33-845-1000)

Umfolozi/Hluhluwe is the oldest game park in South Africa. Not as well known as Kruger, certainly not as big, but packed with plenty of animals. Unfortunately, over the Christmas break they are also packed with people. We saw the usual big five minus the cats- too hot for them as well as us.

Being cat-less on the boat has its definite drawbacks. Stewart was the chief bug officer and with his blindness and frailty, I always thought he was shirking his duties. Now we are being over run with bugs and I see how wrong I was. When we were tied to the French boat in Reunion we noticed that it came alive with cockroaches at night. Now we seem to have a similar fate. The roach hotels only seem to provide them with a nourishing fodder. We are busy finding a lizard to serve as Chief Insect Officer. Any applications will be greatly accepted.

This week I had a technological debacle, for no other reason than my magnetic personality, I guess, erasing the microcircuitry in all our electronic doodads. My computer Arnold is still really dead. Phil and I are convinced it is the power supply-, which has always given us a problem from day one, or the c-mos chip. So far, no one in South Africa has been able to fix it. That's ok, I can live with it- but some of Stew's writings were on it and I want to get them off of it somehow. (No, he didn't back up his stuff... ) In one day I also managed to erase the brain in the Epson printer and the Nikon "Coolpix" camera- again. This same thing happened when we went to New Zealand and we blamed it on the airport security. This appears not to be the case. How we are going to get it repaired (again) is anyone's guess. So, the bad thing about that is that there will be no new web pictures. Which is why you must suffer with my drawings and ramblings, when I know that people are really only interested in pictures...

APW