Canter Bridge

In the superb math of the African bush, two hippos make an island.

This much became clear as my wife and I headed with our South African guide to the Krüger National Park landing strip on which a small plane would soon land and whisk us back to Johannesburg and points beyond.

Mounted atop a green Land Rover—the last of a dying breed, soon to be replaced by the relentless efficiency of a fleet of Toyotas—we came upon one last watering hole ‘just in case’.

Our guide always prefaced his detours with ‘just in case’, a shrewd management of expectations learned the hard way from demanding tourists who believed he ought to summon, say, a knot of rhinos on demand. After all, they’d come so far.

This time, we peered into the distance of a rather big muck of water for such an African summer. Phill the Guide wondered aloud whether those were rhinos down there. ‘No, it’s an island’, someone corrected.

‘Hmm …’, Phill offered thoughtfully, ‘only there’s never been an island there before.’ Just then the island moved, then separated and—mirabilu dictu—two rhinos were now visible where once an island had appeared in all its immovable solidity. One big one, one little one, drifting along in that way that only multi-ton water-born animals can.

Two rhinos do make an island, not least in Africa where everything and nothing is possible.

This book is for travelers who move about the world for more than just the purpose of getting—yet again—to Point B.

This book is not for backpackers. Multiple guides exist for such light-weight travelers, and I hasten to refer you—if backpacking is your game—to the Lonely Planet and Rough Guide products, for the overall quality of both series is still unsurpassed.

Nor do we write for the Condé Nast crowd. If that’s your style, I occasionally—thought not often—envy you your luxuries and am confident your tour arranger will set them up for you.

Two Hippos Make an Island is for the inbetween crowd. We love our occasional hot shower in a nice hotel room and can even be discovered ordering up the occasional overpriced breakfast from room service. Yet we insists upon beating our way outside the protective coterie of minders who would keep us from interacting with the population to which we refer somewhat audaciously as ‘the people’.

It is our crowd that is likely to discover, sooner or later, that two hippos occasionally make an island.