Travel Reference
In-Depth Information
'Stop!' said Boston in a whisper. He raised his hand towards me but his eyes didn't
move from a spot ten metres away. Grinding to a halt, I opened my mouth to listen for
movement around me. 'Hippo!' he said, in evident alarm.
We froze.
There, right behind a tree, was a large, boulder-like lump. Until now, it had lain mo-
tionless, wallowing in the shallow mud of a half-dry creek. But now, disturbed from its
slumber, the enormous beast was slowly emerging from the hole.
Hippos are the biggest killers of humans of all the large animals of Africa. They kill
more people than lion, buffalo, crocodiles and elephants combined. Incredibly territorial
and defensive of their young, they don't like people - and nowhere are they more danger-
ous than on land. 'The most dangerous place in Africa,' Boston had repeated several times
along our journey, 'is between a hippo and the water . . .'
I looked at Boston, who was usually so unflappable, treading slowly backwards. Behind
me, Francis and the porters were doing the same. I followed suit. As it stood, the hippo
began to sniff at the air. Suddenly, it caught our scent and inclined its massive head towards
us.
'Run!' I cried.
In an instant, we darted for a cliff face, intent on scrambling to safety. Behind us, the
monster began to charge, its cavernous mouth open to reveal skewer-like teeth. Every an-
imal has different instincts and any human foolish enough to invade their habitat must
know what they are thinking. For instance, you should never run from a lion - its cat in-
stinct will always compel it to chase you down. Rhinos have terrible eyesight so, if you
can hide behind a tree, you'll quite possibly lose it. With elephants, you need to give them
plenty of warning - spook them and they'll run away before getting aggressive. But, if you
come across a hippo on land, there's nothing to do but climb. There's no way you can out-
run a hippo on the flat as, despite their clunky appearance, they are fast, able to charge at
thirty kilometres an hour. Believe it or not, hippos are actually cousins of the horse.
As the beast gained ground, we grappled with thorns and vines, without regard for pain,
until we had hauled ourselves to the safety of a ridge overhead. Beneath us, the hippo gave
a dismissive snort and then slumped away into the undergrowth. As one, we all breathed
a sigh of relief. For the longest time, we basked in silence. Fresh from our close call our
hearts were pounding, our bodies full of adrenaline. Short of patrolling through a minefield
in Afghanistan, I don't think I'd ever felt quite so vulnerable, or so exhilarated.
'Are you ready, Lev?'
'Ready for what?' I asked, as I doused my face in water.
'Ready to do it all again. Well, we need to get to the river, don't we?'
We picked ourselves up and hacked on through the spiny acacia, the river's presence
felt rather than seen. Eventually, blue shimmers could be made out - and then a beautiful
