The Challenges of Hunting Flamingos.

Easter weekend. 

Sua Pans.

Sua Pans are these flat barren wastelands, deriving their name from the local word for salt. Salt is found on these pans, and nothing else. However, guide books amp up the thousands of bare square kilometers of salt pans for their ethereal danger. Adventure junkies beware: Thou shall not venture into the pans with out two 4 wheel drive vehicles. Or a GPS. Or 3 days supply of food and water more than what you plan. Because lets face it, if both cars in your party get stuck and your GPS runs out of batteries, it doesn't matter how many days supply of water you have- you are never finding your way back.

And did I mention- when there's been substantial rain, the pans fill up with a few inches of water. The water and salt then attract the world's largest concentration of- who would ever believe- FLAMINGOS!

So the Peace Corps Volunteers decide this is definitely the party place for Easter weekend. Let's have a "Burning Man Festival" and go camping on the edge of the pans. PCVs set it up- they built a giant inflammable man and bought hundreds dollars worth of steak and sausage. All we had to do was show up with tents and booze.

We met at the PCVs house in the town where the salt miners live, crammed into the back of a pickup, and drove out to the pan's edge. Driving in we saw some wildebeest and far, far into the 

horizon we noticed a white fuzzy line. What in the world? Yes, thousands upon thousands of flamingos!! Definitely a treat- rain was all but nonexistent this season and I was certainly not expecting this. While most people started setting up camp immediately, Sacha, Ashley and I wanted to explore a little bit. We're only here once- YOLO, right?

The three of us start walking towards "the horizon." There really aren't any landmarks. The ground starts as dry, cracked mud. Which slowly gives way to soggy, gooey mud (ideal for 

moonwalking). Which eventually turned into shallow water as we approached the birds. Their tracks were everywhere- millions upon millions of flamingo footprints and hot pink feathers scattered the mud. We walked for over an hour into the pans, leaving behind deep footprints that we were confident would lead the way back to camp. After all, we'd read the books. Getting lost and becoming a Sua Pan Statistic didn't seem all that far-fetched. Compounding the excitement was the setting sun.

So not only were we "walking" (sliding? cross-country skiing without skis?) as fast as we could through thick mud to the flamingos before we were left in total darkness, but the gorgeous sunset in the sky was being reflected in the shallow water at our feet.

After what seemed like miles and two very sore calves into the trek, we finally saw them: THOUSANDS OF FEEDING FLAMINGOS! Nothing quite prepares you for that. The birds saw us coming (despite my brilliant idea for us to walk closely together so that we appear as one animal in lieu of three) and they stopped feeding, squared up to us, and extended their wings in an attempt to scare us off. 

Futile. Flamingos don't scare me.

So we continued our approach, and eventually scared the flock. Which wasn't a terrible thing- 

because it resulted in thousands of flamingos flying over our heads while the sun was setting. Words can't capture the beauty of the experience, and neither can photo nor video. I tried. I failed.

After that experience, we had to hustle back to camp before the sun dipped below the horizon. When we got back into cell phone range Jake had called me worrying about whether we were still alive. PCVs (while braiing up some steaks) were wondering if we'd make it back while the Batswana were telling stories of lost hikers. Seriously? Did they not think we knew what we were doing? We had sight of the camp and 3 sets of footprints and a flashlight to get back, but it was kind of cool knowing people were wondering if we'd survive. Not to mention people were upset they missed out on the experience and photos.

Who seriously chooses to set up a tent instead of going flamingo hunting?!

Another bonus: by the time we got back there were steaks waiting for us on the grill and the bonfire was almost prepared. We set the Burning Man aflame and enjoyed being the 4 Guinean refugees amongst the Botswana PCVs in their badass country. The night ended with a violent sandstorm that broke up the party, but when the sand stopped blowing and we could open our eyes again the lighting striking down onto the pan was yet another example of how big and powerful Nature is and made me thankful for having seen the Sua Pans in the raw.