Kubu Island, the Island in the Middle of a "Sea" of Salt

 

 

 

 

August 10, 2008

It’s the dawn of a new day.
To be precise, it’s the fourteenth since my companions and I arrived in Botswana.

The morning chill is still quite sharp, and the warmth of my sleeping bag tempts me to linger a bit longer in my protective cocoon.

It feels strange to speak of cold in Africa, a continent usually thought of as hot and sun-drenched. Yet here, the cold has its moments, and when it comes, it certainly makes itself known.

The first light of day has already flooded the inside of the tent, signaling it’s time to start the day.

It’s well-known that in Africa, whether you’re a lion or a gazelle, as soon as the sun rises, you must begin to run to eat and survive. This applies to travelers too.

Here, there’s no such thing as breakfast in a hotel dining room or at a café around the corner.

So this morning, as we do every morning and evening, we need to get busy to put food on the table: dismantling the campsite, taking out supplies, lighting the fires, and preparing breakfast.

To protect our provisions from the savannah animals, we must dismantle the kitchen and erase all traces of food each time we finish a meal.

Anything edible or even slightly scented has to be meticulously stored in the sturdy trailer hitched to our vehicle.

Last night, as soon as we retreated to our tents and the camp was free of human presence, the savannah animals came to investigate, drawn by the lingering smells of our dinner.

I can’t say which animals prowled around the tents during the night. However, before falling asleep, I distinctly heard the call of a hyena from very close by. The impression was that this creature, often deemed fearsome and vicious, was just beyond the thin fabric of my tent.

We’re used to the sounds of animals common to our latitudes, but for us northerners, hearing the cry of a hyena is undoubtedly unusual. It resembles a high-pitched, shrill howl, almost like the wail of a malevolent spirit. Defenseless as I was, hearing that eerie call so nearby caused me some unease.

This morning, there are clear feline tracks around the tents.

Did His Majesty the “Lion King” pay us a visit during the night?

If so, at least he had the courtesy—or cunning—to do so silently.

From the Khumaga campsite, where we spent the night, it will take us about eight hours to reach Kubu Island, today’s destination.

We’ll be venturing into the Makgadikgadi Pan, the largest salt flat in the world.

This immense expanse is made up of arid savannahs and salty basins. Early explorers who ventured here aptly described it as the “land of thirst.”

As our journey begins, the soft morning light has already given way to a dominant sun that uniformly illuminates the landscape.

The temperature has risen rapidly. The morning chill has vanished, and the heat quickly forces us to shed our heavier layers.

Sunglasses, hats, and scarves are essential today. We need to protect ourselves from heatstroke, the blinding light, and the fine white sand that, like talcum powder, manages to get everywhere.

The local term for these areas is “pan,” which translates from English as “frying pan.”

The name couldn’t be more fitting. We’re crossing an endless, perfectly flat expanse that was once the bed of one of Africa’s largest lakes.

In the dry seasons, it becomes a blinding salt crust, occasionally interrupted by vast sandy patches.

Every place on Earth deserves to be seen in different seasons, in light and darkness, and under varying weather conditions.

This statement is particularly true for this desert, which undergoes dramatic changes. Just one rainfall transforms the gleaming salt surface into a water mirror reflecting the blue sky. What was once desert turns into savannah. Vegetation blooms, and the water attracts a multitude of wild animals.

We are in awe! In the utterly empty surroundings, the silence is surreal, broken only occasionally by gentle gusts of wind.

If I were a flat-Earther, I might think we were nearing the end of the Earth, where this expanse of nothingness would drop into a bottomless abyss.

But fear not, dear reader—I know well that the planet is round, like an orange.

In the presence of primal nature, time ceases to exist. We may be in the 2000s, but we could just as easily be in far earlier epochs, and the landscape would look exactly the same.

We feel as though we’re at the edge of the world. With our gazes lost in the horizon, the unique and pure beauty of this ethereal desert landscape fills us with countless emotions. Memories are etched into our minds, ones that will surely remain vivid over time.

Our driver seems to know these lands intimately. Yet, we can’t help but wonder how he’s so confident about the direction to take, given the lack of trails, the uniformity of the terrain, and his apparent reliance on no technological instruments. Perhaps the rare acacia trees punctuating the landscape serve as landmarks.

We stop at Gweta, a small settlement exuding the atmosphere of a dusty frontier town.

Its name derives from the sound of “bullfrogs,” whose croaks resemble the bellowing of cattle.

These large amphibians lie buried in the sand, awaiting the rainy season, when they surface to mate.

Gweta is our last chance to refuel and stock up on potable water.

We also take advantage of the stop to add a few more provisions to our already well-stocked pantry.

From here on, nothingness will again define the environment we traverse, lasting until tomorrow afternoon when we return to “civilization” by reaching the town of Nata.

Even the animals seem to have vanished.

Only a few carcasses, now reduced to sun-bleached bones, glinting under the sun, bear witness to life, though these beings are no longer alive.

Yesterday afternoon, however, during a game drive in the bushy savannah near Khumaga, we encountered an abundance of wildlife.

Herds of zebras, some wildebeests, and several elephants were drinking at sunset along the banks of the Boteti River, now reduced to scattered waterholes in this dry season.

In a pond known as the “Hippo Pool,” we also observed a group of large hippos lazily lounging in the muddy water.

As we cross the pan, we ask our driver to stop the Jeep for a break.

Stepping onto the ground, we delight in the crunching sound of the salt crust beneath our feet. Like children let loose in a park, we roam energetically, stretching our legs and striking playful poses for photos.

The game doesn’t last long, as the blazing midday sun soon drives us back into the vehicle.

We make another stop under a solitary acacia tree. Huddling in its small patch of shade, we prepare a light midday snack.

Before heading straight to our final destination, we stop once more to gather firewood for tonight’s campfire.

The trail we follow is bumpy and dusty. The fine sand, stirred up by both the wind and our vehicle, envelops us and everything else in a persistent whitish haze.

By early afternoon, we notice a change on the horizon. The endless salt plain begins to break up with visible ridges.

As we draw closer, the silhouette of an island takes shape, covered with a peculiar vegetation of stout, twisted baobab trees with sparse foliage and gnarled, root-like branches.

No other tree in Africa, like the ancient baobab, evokes the magic of the continent.

An African legend tells of a time when the baobab was a lush tree with a beautiful green crown, so proud of its appearance that it constantly boasted about it. To punish its vanity, God uprooted it and replanted it upside down, leaving its roots exposed as its topmost feature.

Kubu Island is a cluster of granite rocks rising about ten meters high and stretching roughly a kilometer in length. These features make it an “island” amid a “sea” of salt. And indeed, it was once an island, surrounded by the waters of a vast lake in ancient times.

We’ll spend the night here.

We set up camp near a massive baobab, which seems to welcome and shelter us like the arms of a generous and nurturing African mother.

The island’s accommodations are rudimentary, with an undefined campsite boundary. Amenities are minimal, and there’s no electricity or running water.

In the last hour of daylight, we explore Kubu Island.

The recurring theme of the island is the baobabs, which come in all shapes and sizes.

The seemingly endless salt pan never ceases to amaze us, and every view evokes fresh emotions.

The rocky outcrops are clearly shaped by the elements, with the strong winds that frequently sweep through playing a significant role in smoothing the stones.

The wave action of the lake that once surrounded the island also contributed, rounding the pebbles that still lie along the ancient shores of Kubu Island.

The sun quickly sinks below the horizon, and as it sets, the landscape bursts into vivid hues ranging from yellow to fiery red.

Even the baobabs, with bark ranging from gray to reddish-brown, glow in rich tones.

As shadows lengthen, contrasts intensify, revealing details invisible under the harsh midday sun.

But perhaps the most enchanting spectacle of the day is the night itself.

Dinner has been eaten, and the camp tidied up.

The crackling fire has dwindled to a smoldering, sleepy bed of embers.

With the electric lamp, powered by the Jeep’s battery, turned off, absolute darkness envelops us, drawing our attention to the sky.

The moon is absent, and the night sky is a blanket of countless stars.

The blackness of the night is the deepest I’ve ever seen, and the vibrant specks of light scattered across it evoke a sense of infinite depth.

Boundaries disappear, and the imagination is free to wander.

The stars seem so close that I feel like I’m among them. Rather than being in a remote spot on Earth, I feel as though I’m drifting through infinite space.

In the absolute silence, we sit around the embers to fend off the returning chill of the African night.

This is a time for relaxation and companionship, sharing the last conversations of the day.

When fatigue finally takes over, one by one, we retreat to our tents.

And once even our chatter has ceased, the voice of Nature begins to tell its story.

© Aldo Lardizzone 2020

CREATIVE COMMONS