I felt a faint bat squeak of sexuality in my loins as images of ‘brown sugar’ began scrolling through my mind… the Toyota Land cruiser bounced into the air as it hit another anthill throwing me back into the present with a bump… as if warning me to pay attention… this road was shit… more a track than a road.
I always travel light… something I’d learned young, living on board dive boats… there was never enough room… and my job was to travel ready to record and shoot what I saw as I saw it… often easier said than done… creating a kind of back pack journalese… narrative story telling developed globally on the net for my own ‘noir’ web site… posted from outlandish locations using the latest technology including high – definition digital cameras and satellite modems so I could produce: text, photography, video, audio and interactive chat.
My digital camcorder of choice the HDR-HC1...
Sony HDV Camcorder.
A miracle Sony high definition 3 magapixel camcorder with a 10 x 120 Digital zoom Carl Zeiss Vario-Sonnar T lens… used with a wide angle converter… it’s a piece of kit that produces video pictures as good as the best available TV images… but it’s still a small light easy to use HD Camcorder with a good super steady shot stabilization facility and 1080i resolution that has a great facility for night shooting and low light conditions… equipped with a 1/3 ins CMOS sensor producing quality imaging. Which then gets hooked up to a sturdy and powerful Toshiba laptop where I can do my editing using a simple Sony Vegas edit software package. The only hang up with this amazing camera is you can only re-load the tape from underneath which means if it’s on a tripod you have to take it off the tripod to reload the tapes… which is a pain in the ass as it takes 2 or 3 minutes which interrupts the flow of an interview for example… so it’s best to use it hand held.
I used Microsoft Office for writing, Adobe Photoshop Premier Elements for editing stills images, and Yahoo! for e mail. For stills I used a Canon 350 D with three zoom lenses which when used in conjunction with doublers covered focal lengths from 17mm to 600mm. Doublers or teleconverters are a secondary lens which gets mounted between the camera and a photographic lens. Its job is to enlarge the central part of an image obtained by the objective lens. For example a 2× teleconverter enlarges the central 12×18 mm part of an image to the size of 24×36 mm. Teleconverters are typically made in 1.4×, 2× and 3× models. The use of a 2× teleconverter (or doubler)...
…gives the effect of using a lens with twice the focal length. It also decreases the intensity of the light reaching the film by the factor of 4 (an equivalent of doubling the focal ratio) as well as the resolution (by the factor of 2)
Camera viewfinder with 300mm tele lens. wikipedia.
wikipedia.
The Canon 350 D was my workhorse of a camera for a long while… at 8 mega pixels as opposed to the sharper 10 mega pixels of the 400D it’s not the obvious choice but I like the grainy looking ‘35 mm film’ feel you can get out of it…
It uses an internal lithiumion battery, although in the field, I’d try to use photovoltaic solar panels to generate my own electricity. Fast reliable communications were always difficult so I always carried a Thuraya / Hughes 7101 portable satellite phone...
This gave me tough dependable back up that worked where other cell phones wouldn’t… this was usually paired off with a Palm Treo 650 GSM Mobile "Smart" phone…
Palm Treo 650 GSM Mobile.
More than just talk.
All of this fitted into a backpack weighing in at about 15 lbs… a big punch for the weight and space… then of course I needed to protect it all… so always close by was my favorite Benelli M3 semi - auto 12 gauge shotgun...
The M3 is a quality versatile shotgun popular with police, special forces and is a very good civilian self defense weapon… it’s also a good all round sporting gun… with the advantage that at the flick of a switch it can be changed from a semi auto to a pump – action shotgun...
Jams at awkward moments become a thing of the past… you can change from auto to pump at the flick of a lever… and on ‘pump’ it just keeps pumping out rounds forever from it’s massive eight round magazine… cocking and firing as fast as you can pull the trigger… the only downside is (with 8 rounds) you have to be disciplined about reloads… always remembering to immediately reload fired rounds… otherwise it’s easy to run out of ammo in the middle of a firefight… this weapon guarantees firepower in a tight spot… tested in all weathers or terrain… including the desert and at sea… which is one of the reasons it’s a favored weapon of Special Forces… It also has interchangeable barrels of different lengths for different tactical situations… like using cartridges loaded with the devastatingly heavy 12 gauge ‘slug’ shot…
My favoured alternative load to slug is Buckshot… the most common type of ammunition used in riot shotguns and combat shotguns for defensive, police, and military use.
Buckshot is normally used for hunting large game, such as deer (hence the name), It’s a 12 gauge shell loaded with 9 hardened 00 buckshot balls, like old fashioned musket balls, with a diameter of about .33 inches (8.4 mm). wikipedia.
The Winchester Model 1897 was the original trench shotgun, a Pump Shotgun, modified for use in World War I. and was the earliest shotgun specifically designed for combat. wikipedia.
Nicknamed ‘trench brooms’ because they were so devastating in the close quarter combat situations inevitably faced in clearing trenches.
As a hand gun I always swore by my 14 round 9mm Browning…
14 round 9mm Browning.
A small fishing port grown up around the mission… nestled on a sparkling white ribbon of sand running along the side of the azure blue ocean…
…and lions drinking in the early morning light…
...Next I passed a Cape Buffalo...
…with a heavy mud encrusted evil looking face… slowly raising it’s huge snorting head… glowering fiercely at my passing… and suddenly… It always seems to be ‘suddenly’ in the bush… nearby a deer lifted up out of the savannah yellow green… startled… petulant looking…
…then bolted…
…as other smaller deer also looked up in surprise…
…I was very conscious of my breaking the hot silence and tranquility of these ancient bushlands…
…disturbed and upset by the grinding drone of the engine of the very machine that had brought me there… a rude outsider breaking the heavy brooding silence of this sun splashed place…
inmagine.
…thundering past…
‘something new always out of Africa…’
I drifted past a couple of the "gangsters of the bush... "dangerous looking leopards always lurking close around the edges of the herds of deer… waiting for a passing target… a tasty morsel…
1956 Toyota Landcruise.
‘Find a big warrior by the name of Sizwe in the villages of the tribal people to the west of here. Find him and you will find the necklace and the valley of the Wild Cat People’
The words echoed in my head again and again as the miles rolled by… and hell they were hot dusty dry miles… it was very hot out there.
‘Yes I know what it is you seek... it is twenty three days march from here… to the West of the Mountains of Nut.’
I wondered… interpreting the timing and navigation of a twenty three day march from Churchill’s… at least this Sizwe was to the West… I wouldn’t have to back track so much… I hated covering the same ground more than once… there’s so much in the world to see.
I reckoned you could walk 20 to 30 miles a day which would put the Mountains of Nut roughly 260 miles into the interior… that could mean any kind of terrain… I hoped it wasn’t too rocky… If it was I’d have to ditch the vehicle and I didn’t like the idea of leaving it out here… I began to think about making the second part of my journey on foot… leaving the Landcruiser in the town I was heading for… there are still places in Africa that no vehicle can get into…
Two things I knew… there would be no passing traffic and I would have to walk out of there.
Thoughtfully I lit my Meerchum full of ganja and climbed out to inspect the damage. I knew it was hopeless as soon as I lay down in the stream and looked underneath. The back axle was completely smashed.
I sat smoking and thinking about my predicament for a while… I’d been driving for 14 hours so getting back would take more than a days march out of the bush… I decided to keep heading for the old Portuguese town on foot, even though it would be a longer march, at least I wouldn’t be diverted from my quest.
The sun was dipping slowly towards the horizon… it was getting towards the end of the day… all around the atmosphere of the cooling bush was changing…
…deer were moving in off the veld… heading towards the water and a day's end long cooling drink… washing the gritty red dust out of parched throats…
…like tired workers wending their way home after a day sweating out in the dusty hot sun…a pretty doe eyed young deer caught my eye…
inmagine.
…she was nervously focused on something moving around towards the outer edges of the
herd… and then I saw it…
inmagine.
...it's difficult to accept the way hunter and hunted coexist together in such close proximity in Africa... as if joined at the hip... which in effect they are... like the ancient rule of two night and day... sun and moon... hot and cold... wet and dry...
... as if there is only the distance of an 'and' between them... maybe life's like that for us too... it's just we don't always see it clearly... not usually till it's too late that is.
A fluttering... flickering... caught the corner of my eye... nearby pigeons and rock doves were dropping gently into a tree line that ran along the rough edges of the rocky stream…
Diner..! my time to become a predator too…
I left the lions moving in on the deer… beginning to play out the moves in the ancient dance of death…
Birds are better eating than large game when you’re on the march… easier to prepare and you can shoot them quickly and easily, and after you’ve eaten you can carry the leftovers away… a deer is too heavy to carry and it means killing a beautiful animal for the comparatively small amount of meat you can eat at one or two sittings… leaving fly blown remains to be eaten by passing scavengers… in this case near where I’d decided I would sleep the night… not a good move… I’d decided to spend the night by the water… shoot some birds… conserve my iron rations… I didn’t know how long marching out of there was going to take and in Africa I’d learnt to always expect the worst and hope for the best… and anyway I loved pigeon shooting… I remember a thought I could not ignore… an allegory of a lion killing to live… I was about to do the same… maybe that’s what the bush teaches you… that in the end we are all animals under the sun…
I picked up the black Benelli shotgun marveling as usual at the lightness and comfortable handling of that superbly engineered weapon so useful in the bush… pump action shotguns and semi autos were frowned on back home in Britain… beautifully crafted and engraved two shot sporting guns were the fashion. This was a different type of tool.
I mainly used a 28 ins barrel with number 7 bird shot for game birds or changed to the short 20 ins barrel loaded with heavy single ‘slug’ or OO buckshot for deer… a threatening big cat… or a man… I’d never actually used it for man killing… however I liked the fact I had the capability in case I should ever need it… things happen out in the bush.
I ejected the eight rounds of ‘slug’ from the shotgun’s magazine… unscrewing the short 20 ins ‘tactical’ barrel… replacing it with the longer 28 ins barrel… reloading the magazine with 7’s, the lighter shotgun load more appropriate for bird shooting… slipping the lever to select engage semi – auto. I checked the safety catch was on and moved off into the treeline...
inmagine.
...birds fluttered away fast…
inmagine.
…as I moved into the shadows around the base of a couple of small stunted scrubby trees sprouting vicious 2 inch thorns… taking a small pull at my water bottle… settling down to wait.A pigeon sailed past as if on it’s way somewhere… minutes passed… then as if from nowhere it drifted back again… settling with a flutter into the branches above my head…
inmagine.
One minute the sky was empty… then there was a sudden rustling rush of air through wings…they came suddenly as always… flaring their wings, dropping towards the branches of the trees…
inmagine.
…the shotgun kicked and roared… the second bird dropped way out in front of me… just on the edge of my range… Silence.
I built a small fire...
noiroutsider.
wikipedia.
...had always insisted on only drinking water mixed with whiskey... particularly when travelling... believing it to be better for the health.
Both Sagittarians... we had the same birthday... so I knew and understood so many of the myths and stories about him. And I new this one was true… that he drank Johnnie Walker Red Label with soda all his life... every day…
noir outsider.
I enjoyed my dinner, my own company and my ability to create a meal out there... I was beginning to thoroughly enjoy myself… even though I was very sad about my old friend the Landcruiser… but that’s Africa… one learns… there is always loss.
I thought better of using the satellite phone and or the Toshiba to access the internet, make a call or send an e-mail for help… there was no point… I knew I needed to disable the vehicle, mark the location on the map… move on… and come back later with a new axle and some help.
The next morning it was cool and early but the sun was already climbing fast when I set off... giving one last long look at my old friend the Landcruiser sitting alone and forlorn looking at the side of the shallow river bed… I’d pushed her out of the water.
inmagine.
I’d taken the distributor cap off and hidden the battery in the bush… locked it up tight… that’s all I could do… sadly I had to leave behind the photovoltaic solar panels for generating my own electricity... it would be down to the lithium’s now… that African sense of loss again… and then that African acceptance… I stood there a moment… looking at the Land Cruiser sitting there… dead looking… it was like leaving an old friend… I promised her I’d send someone back for her soon… I gave her a last salute and off I went… tent sleeping bag water bottles bouncing against my back pack… the Benelli slung over my shoulder in its carry case… the top open for ease of access… after much thought I’d changed back to the short 20 ins barrel with the eight slug loads… just in case.
Royal Marines Falklands War website.
As I settled back into my own pace I knew I was once again knowingly marching towards the unknown… from now on my fate would be in the hands of the Gods… as always… but now more so than ever… how it was… how it is… I’d lived with this certain knowledge all my life… knowledge that comes clear early to a diver... or a hunter... or a photographer for that matter… and I was all three… it had made me an ‘Outsider’ …only one question constantly running through my head… would I be tough enough to deal with what lay ahead this time? You never know...
And I knew you never knew…
Africa Dances - Michel Huet Thames & Hudson... Benelli... Kevin Sites Hot Zone.
