My Camera In Hand

I have never had a huge interest in wildlife photography, but an African safari has been near the top of my bucket list. I have been fortunate to be able to do two safari’s, one near Kruger Park in South Africa, and one in Tanzania. These photos will be from Tanzania.

Pat wasn’t excited about going, so I was solo with a small group of photographers. Arriving at the Kilimanjaro Airport near Arusha, Tanzania at 8 PM after a 20 hour series of flights, I was dismayed to learn I had at least an hour’s ride to the hotel. The roads were remarkably busy at that time of the day, as nearly everyone on my flight was also heading to a hotel, awaiting their safari or to climb Mt. Kilimanjaro. Seeing all of their climbing gear, a safari looked like the better option, even with a heavy camera bag. Arusha, a large city in the north of Tanzania, is the gateway to safari destinations, and to Mt. Kilimanjaro, about 60 miles away.

The seven of us photographers met up at the Rivertree Lodge, where I would spend two nights recovering from jet lag. My room was a small cottage with a comfortable bed canopied in mosquito netting. Malaria medication is required in this part of the world. I was more worried about the tsetse flies that I was warned about. Their bite is legendary. We were instructed NOT to bring blue colored clothing, because they are attracted to the color.

Two days later, we’re in a 10 passenger prop plane flying into the Serengeti, landing on a dirt runway in the middle of nowhere. The timing of this trip was to coincide with the wildebeest migration, where some 2 million wildebeest, 200,000 zebras, and 300,000 gazelles join on a 500 mile trek from the south to the north, in search of grass fields newly greened up by Fall rains.

Our home base was a movable camp for just the 7 of us, drivers, cooks, and camp help. My tent was not luxurious, but comfortable. Hot water, heated by camp staff and then hoisted above my shower stall allow for a hot shower that lasts about 3 minutes. Cold water for washing was placed twice a day in a large pitcher. Toilets were compostable pump types that I could never get used to.

The days began at 5:30 AM, with a small pitcher of hot water for washing up and a pot of coffee delivered outside the tent. 30 minutes later we gathered for a hot breakfast, before setting off for our morning game drive, lasting until around noon. The days were hot and dusty. The animals take a siesta during the high sun, and we did as well. It was the time to recharge camera batteries, download photos, and rest. Our evening game drives started around 3:30 PM. We were required by the National Park guidelines to be back in camp by dark.

Meals were fabulous and cocktail/beer/wine selections were readily available. I tend to request vegetarian meals on trips like this because I am never quite sure what animal the meat comes from! The vegetarian fare was really excellent.

The group leader was primarily interested in photographing “cats”, so we spent a lot of time searching for lions, leopards and cheetahs. It was remarkable how close we could get to the animals. There were never more than 2 photographers in each vehicle, so we had plenty of room to move around to get the best shots. Our drivers were skilled and knowledgeable. They could spot animals in trees, or hiding in tall grass.

Evening temperatures cooled into the 50’s, refreshing after a hot day. Once dinner and socializing was over, we went to our tents, and were not allowed to come out until daylight. Even with cool evenings and a comfortable bed, most nights I didn’t sleep well. Two nights in a row, lions roamed through our camp, close enough that I could hear them breathing. I laid in bed wondering how easy it would be for them to rip through the tent, but they apparently found better food elsewhere! Another night, I awoke thinking we were having a heavy rain, as the tent was shaking. The next morning, we were told a herd of zebra stampeded past our tents. Nights are NOT quiet in the animal kingdom!

As I was sitting just outside my tent one afternoon during break time, this large Olive Baboon, named for their olive colored fur, walked beside my tent, not 6 feet away from me. He/she didn’t seem to be interested in me, as he sauntered away, then climbing into our safari vehicles, searching for any snacks left behind.

Our second camp was about 75 miles north, near the border of Kenya. It was a long drive over rough roads. This new location is where we photographed the wildebeest migration from Tanzania into the Masai Mara in Kenya. The millions of animals cross the Mara River at roughly the same spot each season. Many iconic Great Migration photographs have been made of this treacherous crossing. Herds of 500 to 1,000 gather along one side of the river waiting for some unknown signal that means “cross”. Then they stampede across, body against body. The river is deep enough that they have to swim, and it is filled with dozens of crocodiles. I know this is the cycle of life, but I don’t like seeing animals kill each other. It was plenty brutal, as many were captured by crocodiles. The crazy part is that these herds often cross back over the next day! Wildebeest are not the smartest animals in the Serengeti. With skinny legs, and long shaggy hair on their heads, they are also quite ugly. One driver told me that when God made them, he just took everything he had leftover and put it together into the wildebeest

Tanzania also has a variety of unusual and beautiful birds. Some days we would be driving along a dusty road and come upon a flock of parakeet looking birds, called love birds, or you would spot a colorful water bird. Buzzards and vultures meant that there was a “kill” nearby.

September is a beautiful month in the Serengeti. The land is dry, with tall golden grasses, and perfect sunlight for photographing. This was a trip of a lifetime and one more item checked off my bucket list

The first impression most people have of Cuba is the old brightly colored cars. I confess, I would have said the same. Next, I would think Communism and oppression of the Cuban people.

My first impression was correct. Old American cars, hot pink, sunflower yellow, deep ocean blue ARE everywhere surrounding the Old Square Plaza Vieja, matching the colors of the 3 to 4 story old Colonial buildings along the streets running off of the Plaza. They seem to perfectly blend with the vibrant old town.

Since Cuba is an island, it seemed fitting to arrive by ship. We sailed into Havana on the Azamara Journey accompanied by good friends, Ed and Cynthia. As we had only 2 days in Havana and I had a list of photography “must sees”, I hired Alfredo as my guide. Searching the internet for a guide can be risky, especially in Cuba’s controlled environment, but Alfredo, a photography professor at Havana’s University of the Arts, proved to be a gem. Born and raised in Havana, he knew the city inside out.

As we walked the narrow streets outside of the tourist zone, he encouraged me to freely photograph the people going about their daily lives.

We visited a friend of Alfredo’s in his modest home. The gentleman and his daughter were happy to pose while Alfredo translated . Their home was very spartan, a narrow concrete structure with crumbling plaster walls, frayed furnishings and a very tiny kitchen. An ornate, once beautiful iron stairway in the middle of their “living room” led to another apartment above.

The obvious cataract in the gentleman’s right eye made me wonder about what medical care is available. Alfredo later explained that health care is free, but slow. Homes and apartments in Cuba are not free, but heavily subsidized by the government. Unfortunately, much of the old Colonial infrastructure is falling apart, most certainly because of the country’s economic, political, and social system.

Boxing and baseball are Cuba’s major sports. I knew there were small boxing clubs all over Cuba and although not a fan of the sport, I wanted to visit a club. Escuela Cubana de Boxeo is an outdoor, fenced in property with an official sized ring and multitude of equipment. I was “invited into the ring” to photograph the sparring up close. I nervously worried about being too close to the action, but survived without a scratch.

Cuba requires all American visitors to attend government sponsored cultural events and even with a private guide, Alfredo said we must visit the ballet school. The rehearsal was a great opportunity to marvel at the muscle involved in ballet dancing.

Alfredo expressed his envy of my camera equipment. He said that most of his students can’t afford their own cameras and share 3 or 4 owned by the University. I mulled that thought over all day and by the end of our time, I made arrangements to ship him my retired cameras and miscellaneous equipment. He appreciated that very much. To this day we keep in touch by email and I enjoy seeing his photography and hearing about his life.

On Day 2, the four of us had a private tour of Havana with Billy in his hot pink Pontiac convertible. It was a warm day but we covered a lot of territory, as well as cooling off with some local cerveza and enjoying a fabulous whole red snapper meal at a private restaurant.

After a little rest and an early dinner, at 8:30 we departed the ship for a late evening at the famous Tropicana Club. Begun in 1939, it is an outdoor theater that holds a large crowd of mostly tourists. Our VIP table, which included Cokes, a bottle of rum and some snacks, was directly in front of the stage so we had an up close view. The production was a colorful extravaganza of 35 or more dancers, both male and female. Scantily clothed female dancers wore head pieces nearly 3 feet tall while performing flawless kicks, swirls, and sashays. Not sure why the men were so fully clothed! It was an evening to remember.

After a long day, it was past midnight when we returned to the ship. At 1:00 AM, we watched from our veranda as the ship sailed out of the Havana Harbor toward Cienfuegos and then Santiago. Rethinking my initial impressions, Communism has certainly left most of the country suppressed socially and economically. I didn’t, however, get the feeling people felt oppressed. Many either don’t know what’s outside their boundaries, or accept what they have…asi` es la vida!

Well, that’s what my family said newspaper headlines would read when I ended up God knows where! After months of planning a 10 day driving and photographic tour of northern Scotland, my friend, the navigator, canceled at the last minute. As my 69^th birthday was approaching, I had a now-or-never feeling, and it took only moments to decide to venture on alone.

Well, that’s what my family said newspaper headlines would read when I ended up God knows where! After months of planning a 10 day driving and photographic tour of northern Scotland, my friend, the navigator, canceled at the last minute. As my 69^th birthday was approaching, I had a now-or-never feeling, and it took only moments to decide to venture on alone.

At Inverness, I rented a car with an automatic transmission and audible GPS and got good instruction on how to use it. With some experience at driving on the wrong side of the road, I drove away from the rental establishment feeling confident. I had read stories of the narrow roads in northern Scotland, but soon discovered that major roadways were often just one lane wide for miles at a stretch. That meant keeping my eyes on the road instead of scanning the countryside for photographs I must make.

Oban was my overnight jumping off spot, where I left my car, and boarded the CalMac Ferry for Carsaig on the Isle of Mull. A bus trip up island brought me to the pretty town of Tobermory, whose harbor is lined with brightly painted houses. Staffa Tours runs day long boat trips between here and the uninhabited islands of Staffa and Lunga and I was anxious to be able to explore them on my own.

Fingal’s Cave on Staffa is approachable by water in calm seas. Our small, bobbing boat inched close enough to photograph the entrance to the cave. From the island, the cave can be reached by a narrow and often slippery walkway across the vertical, hexagonal basalt columns that jut up from the water. Legend says that Fingal the Giant, traversed these stones between here and the Giant’s Causeway in Northern Ireland.

Lunga is home to a large colony of Puffins that live on the high point of Harp Rock. These incredibly cute creatures were fearless in the face of cameras, and offered many charming photos. After a long day, arriving back in Tobermory, there was time to share stories and a glass of wine with a couple of photographers I met on the boat.

I was on the road early to arrive at Glenfinnan in time to see the morning Jacobite Steam Train traverse the famous railway viaduct featured in the Harry Potter films. I joined close to 100 other photographers who climbed the hill near the viaduct seeking a good perch to best view the train’s slow approach. As a follower of The Outlander series, I sought out the monument in Glenfinnan which marks the site where Bonnie Prince Charlie in 1745 rallied the Jacobite clans in his ill-fated attempt to oust the British from Scotland.

Portree, on the Isle of Skye awaited me, but I couldn’t miss a stop at Eilean Donan Castle on Loch Duich. Most guidebooks call this the most photogenic of all Scottish castles. I got my shot! There are hundreds of stunning viewpoints on the Isle of Skye, but I only had three days. The roads on the island are VERY narrow with poor signage. My wise decision to hire a photography guide for two full days would allow me time to see and photograph more sites than if I wandered on my own. From 5 AM until 10 PM (with a few hours off mid day) Harry drove me, hiked with me, and offered me shooting tips to get some of the best images I have ever made.

A last minute decision led me east of Skye towards Gairloch, where I wanted to explore the remote villages along the coast. A detour to visit the seaside town of Applecross, found me sharing the narrow, winding road with a Sunday bike race. The twenty or so miles took two hours, but spotting a herd of lounging Highland cows was worth it. Their shaggy hair covered faces make them a favorite with photographers. Approaching cautiously, they had little concern for me or the bicyclists speeding by.

I checked off all the “must sees” from my planning list, and discovered unexpected and breathtaking landscapes that left me dreaming of a return visit. Age shouldn’t hinder older people from independent travel. Yes, there were a few hiccups along the way; bumping car mirrors on impossibly narrow passing spots, bouncing off a highway curb on a country road, but no headlines were made! This was a solo adventure I treasure.

Welcome to my blog! I’m Mary Dreckman, and the Covid-19 downtime has provided the free time to launch this site.

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