Holy Hippo! - St. Lucia, South Africa

Harmonie
Don and Anne Myers
Tue 17 Jul 2012 07:45
28:22.60S  32:24.94E

June 29, 2012 - July 3, 2012


From Rorke's Drift, we drove east to St. Lucia on the coast just north of Richard's Bay.  St. Lucia is known for its estuary and surrounding wetlands park, as well as its proximity to several game parks and nice beaches.  It's a small tourist town (600 permanent residents) that blossoms in high season (December/January), but remains fairly sedate in winter (now).  It's our kind of town - the kind with one main street, a few shops and restaurants, and not much else.  We stopped at the tourist office to confirm the location of our B&B, and were surprised when the guy behind the counter told us not to walk at night even though the distance between all the restaurants and B&B's is only two or three blocks.  Sue and I tried politely to probe further without sounding rude or negative:
"Really?  We shouldn't walk just a few blocks at night?"  
"No, it's not safe."
"Why?  What has happened?"
"Some tourists have gotten hurt at night."
We decided to probe harder.
"Is there a problem with crime?"  This topic can be white South Africa's favorite topic - and is sometimes used to scare tourists like us with (true) tales of violent robberies and carjackings.  This time, however, the answer we got was not what we were expecting.
The information counter guy gave us a puzzled look, "Crime?"
"Yes, is there trouble with muggings and robberies here?"
"Oh! No, no - it's the hippos you have to watch out for."
Thinking our ears still weren't tuned to the South African accent, we asked, "Sorry, did you say hippos?"
"Yes, yes the hippos!  They come up from the water at night and roam through the town eating grass, but you have to be careful - they are very dangerous."
"Hippos?  Hippos roam the streets at night?"
"Yes, hippos - it's better to drive at night than to walk."

Ok then, with that warning in mind, we decided to try the local ski club (water ski) for dinner.  All six of us jammed into the larger of the two rental cars and rode the few miles to the ski club.  There, we experienced lots of local Friday night color in the form of picnic tables sticky with beer and filled with people, kids running around willy-nilly, bar food, good draft beer and cheap South African wine (we like all the  South African wine we've tried so far - and have found it's a struggle to pay more than the equivalent of $10 for a bottle in a store - yet another reason to love South Africa).  After a few hours, we piled back into the car for the five minute drive in the dark to our B&B.  The ski club, not surprisingly, is located on the water near the mouth of the estuary, and the road leading back to our B&B runs fairly close to the water.  The topic of discussion in our crowded rental car had just turned to hippos ("Wouldn't it be cool if we saw a hippo right now?") when John rounded a curve and, voila!  A giant black hippo lumbered out of the tall grass in front of us.  Wow!  Once again, one of those sneaky movie directors must have been sitting up there somewhere cuing the animals, "Hey, hippo!  Get on it!  Here come the tourists!  Action!"  Sue says we all squealed in unison when the hippo made an appearance, which is true.  We would have yelled no matter what, but the shear size of the thing truly added to the surprise.  After only seeing animals like hippos in movies and photos, it's a shock to see the real thing.  It seems all the animals we've seen so far in South Africa are larger than life, or maybe better put, larger in life.

But the story isn't over yet.  Just as our excited chatter started to wind down, John turned the car into our B&B's driveway, and surprise!  Another giant hippo - this one chewing happily on the front lawn looking like an oversized cartoon of itself.  It barely glanced our way as John inched the car by and parked.  We waited for it to munch its way down the driveway before making a beeline to our rooms for cameras.  We stalked the hippo from behind with our flashing cameras (it was pitch dark) as it continued to eat its way down the street.  It didn't seem to mind.  If it had minded, you'd better believe our stalking would have ended in a jiffy.

The next morning, our hostess Vicky didn't seem surprised at all to hear about our hippo encounters.  "Oh!"  she exclaimed, "The gardener hates it when the hippos have been around -  their poo makes a mess - it doesn't just plop, it explodes out and sprays over everything."  It's true.  We heard this again later that same day from our guide during a boat tour of the estuary - made us glad we didn't get too close when we stalked our hippo from behind.

In the 1970's, the number of hippos in the St. Lucia estuary was down to a few hundred.  Now there are over a thousand (or more?  can't recall the exact number as related to us by our guide).  The story is similar all over South Africa - animals near extinction forty years ago are now thriving, or at least surviving.  It's good to see good things happening to the animals.  South Africa loves its animals so much their faces adorn all the currency - a nice change from the usual assortment of dead presidents, prime ministers or royalty.


This is a terrible photo, but it was dark.  Look closely at the center and you'll see the hippo.  When making a meal out of the front lawn, it sounded a little like a cross between a snuffling pig and a very big (but relatively quiet) vacuum.


A bloat of hippo.  
Yup, a bloat.  Love that word - it's so descriptive.  Hippos are definitely bloated, and with all that bloat, tend to float well.  A group of hippos is also called a raft, but the word bloat is so much more fun.  What you see here is pretty much the hippos' daytime occupation.  They are nocturnal beasts (as our encounters the night before confirmed), and sleep in the water throughout most of the day.  The water and mud keep their sensitive skin from burning in the sun.  A cuddly bunch, aren't they?


Mom chasing after baby as dusk approaches.


Did you know hippos kill more people in Africa than any other animal?  Maybe they're not so cuddly after all.  Certainly the scars on their hides are an indication that cuddling isn't always top of mind.


Speaking of killers, South Africa's east coast has plenty of these too.  Our taxi driver says the locals call them flat dogs (with big teeth).


Local ladies at the market on St. Lucia's main street.
Photo courtesy of Helen.


Who says the locals are shy?  This bunch, jammed in the back of a pick-up truck outside the local grocery store in St. Lucia, might have gone on posing for hours if their impatient driver hadn't decided it was time to leave and nearly mown down photographer Helen in the process. 
Photo courtesy of Helen.


And who says you can't have your cake and eat it too?  Especially when it's served under delightfully cute glass domes, and eaten in place of lunch.  From the left going clockwise:  Sue, me, Don, Helen, Ray and John.


Bacon.
The Vietnamese potbelly pig.  Seen here being given a slug of bubble gum.  "Her favorite treat!", said her proud owner, deep-voiced Debbie.  "She chews it until the sugar is gone and then spits it out."  Wow.  We've always wondered what potbelly pigs do with their used-up bubble gum.  Deep-voiced Debbie also enjoyed telling us in great detail how she cut down the legs of her bed several years ago so portly Bacon could more easily lumber up on it to snuggle each night.

After giving all this a little more thought, it's possible the number of characters we've met in South Africa rivals that which we encountered in New Zealand.  We see this as a definite positive.
Photo courtesy of Helen.


Next up:  The Drakensberg Mountains
Anne