We leave camp at 06:20 to try and beat the heat; the morning temperature indicates it is going to be a scorcher. A young assistant guide, Michael, accompanies us, with Gus driving.

The road out of camp is very rough, curving around steep hills. At one point, as we climb up out of a dry creek bed, the Land Rover seems to be pointed skyward at about thirty degrees off horizontal.

Soon it levels out, and we pass the smoldering remains of a recent brush fire. The lake is off to our right, a half mile away. A few waterbuck appear, and there is lots of elephant sign, some very fresh. Gus spots lion sign, but it's old.

We park by another dry creek bed and walk towards the water. A few impala meander across a ridge line. Jane and Graeme scout for birds. It is very quiet.

On the way back we spot an eagle in a tree eating a water monitor lizard. Later, Gus picks out an 'LBJ' (little brown job, any small non-colorful bird) and he and Jane struggle to ID it from their bird book. Assistant guide Michael takes a closer look and correctly identifies it as a rock.

Back at camp we have a late breakfast and take a short nap, but by 1:30 it's too hot to stay in the tent and sleep. I go out to the dining tent to read, and note that the thermometer hanging in the shade indicates it is 100 F. Far away there is a rumble of thunder.

I'm reading a book about Cecil Rhodes, titled "Rhodes, the Race for Africa" by Antony Edwards. I picked it up in the J'berg airport on the way here. It is the fascinating story of the man who created the DeBeers diamond company and the British colonial states of South Africa and Rhodesia. Rhodes saw the gold and diamond wealth of South Africa and ruthlessly exploited it, in the process subjugating millions of Africans and paving the way for the apartheid system.

Yes, this is actually the toilet at the camp. And it works. You just have to watch for spiders, snakes, and stray buffalo. And no, I don't normally take pictures of wife in the bathroom: she's just there 'for scale'.

The routine at this camp includes an afternoon boat trip for lakeshore game viewing. Sounds appealing; it's bound to be cooler out on the water. So at 4pm we depart. A 15 minute high speed trip takes us a few miles north, where we throttle back and slowly glide through an eerie forest of dead tree trunks, left exposed when the lake level drops during this time of year.

Hippo eyes poke above the water's surface, tracking us warily. When we approach within 12 meters the hippos snort and submerge. I spot a crocodile sunning itself on the bank. Hearing our motor, it wakes up and slides into the water.

In the evening, the clouds pile up and gusty winds nearly blow our dinner off the table. That night Rosemary has trouble sleeping because of the wind pounding on the tent walls. The moon is nearing two-thirds full.