When this trip started, I was living in a substandard house in Indianapolis, Indiana, waiting out the winter. I had recently acquired an 11 month old French Brittany spaniel, the first dog since my beloved Bene passed all too soon, and was expecting to use the season off of falconry to train this pup to be the bird dog I've always wanted. True to description, she was very soft, biddible, willing to do just about anything I asked of her, and all but glued to my hip.
When I got the final Go order from Bill, it had to happen fast. I'd already gotten innoculations (3 in each arm, and a spare unmentionable, doxicycline as prophylactic against Malaria, prescriptions for Z-pack and the cure for Malaria, in case I should succumb to that ugly disease anyway... my own sterile syringes and scalpels, just in case... Now came the drive to Las Cruces to drop off the pup, give them a few days together so that she wouldn't think I'd abandoned her (we joked about how I'd be gone so long that she wouldn't remember me,) and get the rest of the prep work done. I drove out of Indianapolis just barely ahead of a major snowstorm (I could see the dark clouds brewing in my rear view mirror,) and on across the Great Plains, the car loaded to the gills I would leave the full vehicle at a friend's place along with the pup, and build a desert home when I returned.
What does one take with to West Africa on a trip like this? EVERYTHING... and as little as possible. No matter what, it all had to fit in one big red cigarette commercial pack. I'd taken the kitchen sink with last summer when I went to Europe and Morocco, and that mistake was not about to be repeated again. The laptop I thought was so essential less than a year ago, it was gone, replaced by a hardboard composition book and a Garmin Rhino 120 GPS gotten used on eBay. Both served perfectly well, and I never once regretted the trade. The guitar that I was so sure I couldn't live without just a summer ago would also be left behind. Hauling it everywhere was a chore, watching over it a burden, and the occasions for playing it rare. While I did have more opportunities on this trip, that choice also proved a wise move. Even clothing was cut down to the bare minimum. I brought with a pair of sturdy jeans, a recent pair of running shoes, a pair of shorts, 2 button-down cotton shirts, 3 days of socks and underpants, and toiletries. Anything else I might need would be cheaper bought in Africa, and of more appropriate material and design anyway. As much room as possible must be available for medicines, vitamins, and the essential wealth of falconry equipment, trap, jesses, binoculars, camera, etc. Without those, the trip would be pointless.
What else? A Sweetwater water purification system and Hubba Hubba uber-light tent (get the footprint too!,) both provided at reduced cost by MSR (Mountain Safety Research,) to whom we owe a HUGE debt of gratitude. Their equipment kept me dry, comfortable, safe from deadly mosquitos and disease-filled water. Without that gear, this expedition might not have been successful. Another item from their catalogue which I would never have considered affording was their Thermarest ProLite 3 air mattress. Tami over at MSR donated that to the expedition anyway, knowing how much of a difference it would make. If I had to do it over again, I'd pay every penny of the list price out of my pocket in exchange for the nights of sound sleep it provided. The way it rolls up tight and weighs a mere 20 ounces, while backpacking I never even noticed it was there. After a night of sleep on it, though, I felt like I'd found a way to roll up Nirvana! I've camped on rocks in the desert with it since, and even had guests use it in lieu ofa mattress. We all agree that it's an amazing innovation that leaves you far better rested than we'd ever imagined possible. THANK YOU, MSR!
So... innoculations, gear, equipment, clothing, tickets, and no visa required of American citizens for Senegal. I'm set, right? Hahahahahaha! There are a couple expressions that those who spend time in Africa learn: WAWA and TIA. Perhaps I'll reveal them to you, dear reader, as the story continues. For now, suffice it to say that NOTHING is ever "set" when one travels to sub-Saharan Africa. Murphy is lord there, it seems, and men triumph despite his wicked designs.
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