What a treat: yet another long drive back to Mana Pools to start our 3-day canoe trip. A storm front blows through that morning, making the drive in the open truck rather cooler than we anticipated. As we were expecting nothing but heat on the river, Rosemary and I had not brought anything warm to wear, and we ended up squeezed into the truck's cab next to the driver, out of the wind.

Arriving at the same Mana Pools camp we were last at four days ago, we meet the other members of our party. They turn out to be three Canadians from Calgary: husband and wife Doug and Nancy, and their friend Jill, whose husband is traveling with them but is temporarily in Harare on business.

Our canoe guide, Gary, is a thirtyish Zimbabwean who tells us he has ten years experience on the river, and in addition has an unusual triple certification as a River, Professional, and Hunting guide. But he says he loves the river the best.

Without further ado, we settle our gear into the center section of the canoe and push off. My canoe experience is pretty much limited to overturning one in Lake Arrowhead, California, when I was in high school. Fortunately, this canoe is a hefty, broad-beamed model styled after big Candaian river cruising canoes. It's quite stable, and we quickly adapt to the canoe lifestyle.

We had been warned in advance, by Jane and Graeme who have done this before, that it is best if the husband takes the much-coveted stern steering position. This is necessary to avoid arguments (the following is entirely hypothetical):

Husband (yelling): "I told you to steer to to port, we're about to run down that hippo!"

Wife (screaming): "Is port towards or away from the frigging hippo?"

Wife (shrieking): "We're lost! Stop and ask that guy on the bank where we are!"

Husband (snarling): "I don't need no stinking directions, I know exactly where we are - we're in Zimbabwe! Next question!"

Yes, experiencing the great outdoors with your loved one truly helps to strengthen the marriage bond. We paddled peaceably down a shallow side channel for about an hour, then hauled out, and Gary announced we were going to take a short walk.

There is a lot of game near the river bank: a small group of bushbuck, the ever present baboons, and three bull elephant as well as a large herd of buffalo. Of course Gary is as heavily armed as Gus was. He tells us that we are going to pretend to "stalk" the elephant. I'm not sure what that means, but I have no choice except to follow him.

We circle upwind of two of the elephants that are close together under a tree and then pass them about 50 meters to our right. We approach them from downwind through some tall grass, crouched low so they don't see us. Closer and closer: I begin to wonder just how close we are going to get.

As it turns out - very close. Twenty meters away, Gary judges that the elephants are relaxed and feeding peacefully, and he stands up. The elephants don't seem to react, though surely they must know he's there: one of them is facing him. I can't quite work up the nerve to stand up. Gary turns and motions us all to get up. Slowly, we rise. This is amazing. The elephants just stare at us. We stare at them. I could sprint the distance between us in about 3 seconds. I check behind me for an exit route: the area is unobstructed, except for another bull elephant about 40 meters behind me. No problem.

We snap some pictures and walk off. To return to the canoes, we have to circle around a herd of buffalo. We do not get so close to them, they are far more dangerous, though not when they're in a herd. Still, why push it? I believe that Gary has done this many, many times, and I detect no serious scars or physical deformities on his stocky, muscular body. I guess he knows what he's doing. Pausing to view the herd, Gary asks if we would like him to take a picture of us. Handing him our little waterproof snapshot camera (I decided against taking my SLR on the canoe portion of our journey) he casually hands me his rifle to hold. I'm a bit startled, and make sure the safety is on. So here I am, in my paleface hunter pose. You have to look carefully to see the buffalo herd in the background.

Back on the river, we are thrilled by a big bull elephant cross the shallow side channel directly in front of us. We are the second canoe in line (there are four in our group) and my spouse doesn't feel I am slowing us down fast enough even though Gary and Nancy are in the first canoe, over 15 meters ahead of us. We veer to port across the river as she backpaddles, complicating my efforts to put the canoe in reverse (a feat which appears to be impossible).

We pull into our first campsite well before sundown. It's just a riverbank on a small island, part grass, part sand. There is only one tent available, as we had requested it. Everyone else just sleeps under a mosquito net propped up by paddles. Rosemary does not find that very appealing. Hippos and buffalo will be wandering around all night. After all, they live here.

Doug, Nancy and Jill announce they are going to take a bath in the river: naked. Rosemary looks at me and shakes her head slightly: not her! I think "why not?". I've just met these people, I'm dirty, the hell with it. [sorry, no photos]

Gary accompanies us to scout out a safe place to bathe. Crocodiles are a problem anywhere on the river, and nasty parasites live in the sluggish side pools. He finds a likely spot and gives us permission to go in. It's less than a foot deep, so full immerision is not possible. Still, it's better than no bath at all!

While preparing dinner, we watch a group of young bull elephant on the Zambezi bank engage in some mock fighting. One of them crosses the river to a nearby island. That evening the moon is full and a gusty wind comes up.