Wilder Magazine - Volume One

July - September 2020

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ilder is a platform for compelling and authentic storytelling. Stories of extraordinary places, people and experiences, through well-written, in-depth articles and striking photography. With a quarterly digital magazine and featured articles on our website, our aim is to inspire our readers to travel wilder – to explore new destinations and cultures, and to push personal boundaries through adventure travel. At the same time, we strive to set a sustainable standard, to encourage people to protect the places that they visit for future generations. In each issue we feature interviews with a range of personalities – conservationists, photographers, extreme sport athletes – people who are excelling in their field, and with stories to inspire.

In this first issue, we present photo journals of stunning South American destinations, from the glacial valleys and steep ridges of the Andes in Argentina’s Neuquén Province, to the contrasting landscapes of Chile’s Atacama Desert and Torres del Paine National Park. We then explore the ancient Swahili ruins and isolated beaches of Kenya’s Manda Island, and feature Cameroon’s threatened Ebo Forest.

We also hear from passionate environmental activist and adventurer, Ofir Drori, about his fight against wildlife crime and corruption across Africa, and his incredible escape from a Nile crocodile in Ethiopia’s Omo River. Lastly, we head to Tanzania’s Mahale National Park, one of the best places in the world to observe chimpanzees up close in the wild.

JAN FOX FOUNDER & EDITOR

Front cover: Torres del Paine National Park, Chile. Photo by Jeremy Goss @wildertavelmag

editor@wilder-mag.com

www.wilder-mag.com

Navigating Northern Patagonia’s Filo Huahum Valley on horseback. Photo by Shaun Mousley

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In this issue 3. Portraits of Patagonia: an adventure on horseback in Western Argentina 27. The lunar landscapes of Chile’s Atacama Desert 35. Snaphot: Kimana Sanctuary 39. A beach-and-bush escape to Manda Island 45. Ebo Forest: a hotspot for conservation under threat 47. Fighting wildlife crime and corruption: an interview with Ofir Drori 53. Wild encounters with the chimps of Mahale

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Contributors

Jeremy Goss Jeremy was born in South Africa and raised to love the wild spaces of the continent from an early age. As a result, he has spent most of his adult life trying to find ways to combine his love of photography and wilderness with ways of conserving it. He is currently based in Kenya, where he divides his time between conservation work for Big Life Foundation, safari guiding and photography.

Shaun Mousley Shaun is a professional safari guide and partner of The Original Ker & Downey Safaris. After studying abroad and gaining experience in game reserves in South Africa’s KwaZulu-Natal province, he returned to his home country, Kenya, where he managed two of the country’s top properties in the Masaai Mara and the Chyulu Hills / Amboseli ecosystem. He then started his own safari company, Nomadic Africa, curating bespoke, privately guided safaris across sub-Saharan Africa.

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Andreas Fox Andreas is a professional safari guide and a board member of The Original Ker & Downey Safaris and the Kenya Wildlife Trust. Based in Nairobi, he curates and guides trips across subSaharan Africa. Prior to returning to his country of birth, Kenya, Andreas ran conservation projects and guide training courses in Southern Africa. An occasional writer, he has published numerous articles about conservation issues and personal expeditions.

Simon Buxton Simon is a photographer and documentary producer interested in the fringe, the exotic and the arduous, whether it be people, places or situations. He has embedded with militia in Yemen and crossed the infamous Darien Gap on foot, always looking for the next opportunity to do something his mother wouldn’t approve of.

Jan Fox Jan is the Founder and Editor of Wilder.

He is based in Nairobi, Kenya, where he was born and raised. Before founding the magazine in 2020, he spent seven years working as a development consultant on assignments for UN agencies and other international organisations across East Africa, monitoring and documenting a range of humanitarian projects in Somalia and other fragile and conflict-affected environments. He also worked as a freelance travel writer for regional and international publications.

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Portraits of Patagonia: an adventure on horseback in Western Argentina Jeremy Goss and Shaun Mousley traverse glacial valleys, rivers and steep ridges on horseback high up in Argentina’s Neuquén Province, before swapping four legs for two and exploring Chile’s stunning Torres del Paine National Park PHOTOGRAPHS JEREMY GOSS | SHAUN MOUSLEY WORDS JEREMY GOSS

Photo | Shaun Mousley

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was reasonably sure that I knew how to steer a horse. Or did I? Roberto took another step forward, his hooves dislodging pebbles that leapt into the abyss ahead. The edge was now inches away, I did not want to accidentally hit the accelerator. I froze. He froze. We both stared. Out over nothing, a giant space, a river below, a glacial valley stretching in both directions. I breathed deeply, trying in equal measure to calm my panic, and absorb the immensity of it all. Unimpressed, Roberto farted, and reversed into the horse behind him.

Photo | Jeremy Goss

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Photo | Jeremy Goss

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We were somewhere in South America, and to be perfectly honest there were more edges than I had expected. I have a love/hate relationship with the things. I love the vistas that inevitably lie beyond, but there’s something about a steep drop that sets me a-fluster.

However, we had come to the Andes and I couldn’t rightly admit my surprise. So I put on what I thought was a brave face and spurred Roberto on. With every minute in the saddle I felt my confidence swelling. Roberto had this covered… my inadequacies would not determine our fate.

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It turns out Roberto was not alone in his abilities, and is part of a brilliant team – both human and animal – under the banner of Jakotango. The founder, Jakob von Plessen, spent years running horse safaris in Africa and has exported the concept to great effect. Key contributors are the gauchos, or Argentinian cowboys, who were men of few smiles and fewer words, but bore exceptional facial hair and a generally heroic demeanor. They looked mostly concerned whenever I was atop Roberto, as if they didn’t expect me to stay there for long, but were infinitely patient and hospitable.

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Photo | Jeremy Goss

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Photo | Jeremy Goss Photo | Jeremy Goss

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This safari is spread over seven days in a remote area of Western Argentina. The daily rides are generally unhurried and can be accomplished with basic skill levels, as the terrain precludes most sorts of equestrian acrobatics. Out here the horse is truly a tool to carry you through one of the most captivating environments I have ever been in.

There are rivers to ford, peaks to summit, mountain-top deserts to cross, and forests of giant trees that shatter the dusty light into a thousand shards.

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Photo | Jeremy Goss

I had heard of the ‘Pass of Tears’, but what of it? It couldn’t be that bad, I thought, in my state of blissful ignorance as our horses carried us up through gnarled old forests. Eventually we emerged above the treeline and onto windswept views of the valleys far below. Before long an edge appeared, then another. Soon they were coming thick and fast and I had nowhere left to look. The advice given was simple – leave it to the horse. So I let my reins go slack and for two hours did just that, trying to keep my eyes open enough to appreciate the volcanic landscape glowing every shade of yellow, orange and pink.

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The trip delivers the thrill of remote adventure, without the packing list associated. The main lodge is a cozy combination of wood cabin and tented safari camp on a river at the base of a broad valley, and is a dreamy spot to rest one’s battered buttocks after a day in the saddle. Other nights are spent at fly camps in the mountain wilderness, in places that strain the thread connecting you to a life elsewhere. Nothing matters but what is front of you, which quite frequently turns out to be a cup of Argentina’s finest Malbec.

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Photo | Jeremy Goss

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Photo17 | Jeremy Goss

This was an experience that was in every way extraordinary – curated exposure to an extremely wild place, by those who know it best. Days unhindered by screens or beeps, passing by to the satisfying clip-clop metronome of hoof on ground. There was always enough dirt under the fingertips to know that you had done something meaningful, but always somewhere to wash it out. The end meant that our horse days were over, and it was time to swap four legs for two.

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South America

Area enlarged Bahía Blanca

Neuquen San Martín de los Andes Jakotango Base Camp, on the bank of the Río Filo Huahum

San Carlos de la Bariloche

Trelew

Argentina

Comodoro Rivadavia

Chile

Puerto Deseado

Puerto San Julián Puerto Santa Cruz

Torres del Paine National Park

Rio Gallegos

Falkland Islands

Puerto Natales Rio Grande Punta Arenas

Photo | Shaun Mousley

We flew south, following the jagged peaks of the Andes. Our destination was the fairytale landscape of the Torres del Paine (‘Towers of Blue’) National Park. In what seemed a highly inappropriate move, particularly following our daring conquests on horseback, we rolled up in a Toyota Corolla. Despite the staggering wild beauty of the area, including mountains, glaciers, rivers and lakes every shade of turquoise, the park has well-maintained roads and facilities, as well as some of the most popular multi-day hiking trails in South America. The result is an unusual combination of people from opposite ends of the adventure spectrum, locking Gore-Tex and Gucci in competition for most popular brand.

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Photo | Jeremy Goss

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Photo | Jeremy Goss

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At a latitude of 51 degrees south, Torres del Paine is well out of any normal person’s comfort zone, and the winds can hit 160 km/h without breaking a sweat. This felt like a place that humans weren’t designed for and stepping outside was generally unpleasant, in the most appropriate kind of way. The elements did keep the majority of park visitors confined to buses and the few eateries, and even in high season we didn’t have to hike far to have the place to ourselves. The endless views of a world carved by glaciers, and lakes coloured by melting ice, were always worth the effort.

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There was not a moment in Torres del Paine that I didn’t feel insignificant. Anything of human origin was small in comparison to its natural surroundings, but if you look carefully in the bottom right of this image you can see the small ‘Hosteria’ where we spent a couple of nights. Throughout this entire adventure I was continually reminded that there is a responsibility attached to a visit to any of the world’s wildest, most spectacular landscapes – a responsibility often ignored by those privileged enough to experience them. A responsibility to be aware, to take in the experience to the fullest of your personal abilities, and to be grateful that these places exist and you are alive to see them.

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Photo | Jeremy Goss

Follow @jeremy.goss and @shaunmousley on Instagram to see more of their work, and to book your own Argentinian riding safari, head to www.jakotango.com.

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The lunar landscapes of Chile’s Atacama Desert Photographer Simon Buxton captures the unearthly scenery on the outskirts of San Pedro de Atacama PHOTOGRAPHS SIMON BUXTON WORDS JAN FOX

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n stark contrast to the lush forests and blue glaciers of Torres del Paine National Park, the rust-coloured landscapes of the Atacama Desert are barren and unforgiving. This is the oldest and driest non-polar desert on Earth, but many consider it to be Chile at its most alluring. It’s a region of contrasts in itself – unflinchingly flat plains fringed by volcanoes and ragged rock formations. It’s a photographer’s dream.

The Atacama is wedged into a 1,000 km strip in the extreme north of Chile, pushing firmly against the borders of Peru, Bolivia and Argentina. Its driest areas receive an average of less than one millimetre of rainfall each year; conditions that the region has experienced for the past 150 million years.

Rain is blocked to the east by the Andes Mountains, and is prevented in the west by the upwelling of cold water from deep in the Pacific Ocean.

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At the heart of the desert is the small town of San Pedro de Atacama, which attracts hordes of travellers eager to explore the surrounding lunar-like landscapes.

There is wildlife in the interior, too, although the lack of rainfall and high mineral content of the soil prevents the growth of vegetation, and the majority of the animals in the region cling to the shoreline and coastal river valleys.

Amongst them is the vicuña, pictured above, found only on the grassy plains and slopes of the Altiplano - a high-elevation ecoregion of the Andes.

Southeast of San Pedro de Atacama are the famous salt flats of the Los Flamencos National Reserve, home to all three known species of flamingoes in South America: the James’s flamingo, Chilean flamingo and the distinctive yellow-legged Andean flamingo.

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In addition to it’s unusual wildlife and otherwordly landscapes, the Atacama is known as one of the globe’s stargazing hotspots. All the elements that make the region so inhospitable – the lung-tugging altitude, lack of cloud cover and moisture – combine with very low levels of air and light pollution to produce exceptionally clear night skies. So perfect are conditions that the European Southern Observatory operates two bases here: La Silla Observatory and Paranal Observatory.

Astro-tourism has boomed in recent years, with an increasing number of night-time tour operators basing their operations in San Pedro. Astronomy buffs can also visit the revolutionary Alma Observatory – the world’s largest astronomical project. Using antennae that make up the equivalent of a 10-mile-long telescope, Alma captures star and planet formations billions of lightyears away.

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Straddling Chile’s border with Bolivia, and an ever-present feature of San Pedro’s horizon, is the satisfyingly symmetrical Licancábur Volcano. In the extinct local Kunza language of the Atacameños, Licancábur means ‘mountain of the people’.

This distinctive stratovolcano is wellknown in the region for its conical shape, but also because its 400 m wide summit crater contains one of the world’s highest lakes, at 5,913 m.

In the early 2000s, the lake drew the attention of a team of scientists from the NASA Ames Research Centre, who considered the terrain to be the best Earth-based analog for conditions on Mars 3.5 billion years ago – a time when it is thought possible that the surface of Mars harboured icy lakes and rivers. For weeks the scientists explored Licancábur to examine the existence of life in such an extreme environment.

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Few of the Atacama’s landscapes are as unearthly as the Valle de la Luna, or ‘Valley of the Moon’.

The valley’s salt-caked craggy rock formations typify the uniquely spectacular scenery of this remote and arid corner of Chile. www.simonbuxton.com

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Photo by Shaun Mousley

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very year thousands of tourists flock to Kenya’s Amboseli National Park, famous for its large elephant herds and breathtaking views of Africa’s tallest peak – Mount Kilimanjaro. What many may not know is that Amboseli forms part of a much larger ecosystem, stretching northeast towards the Chyulu Hills and Tsavo West National Park. At the heart of this ecosystem is the modest, but vital, Kimana Sanctuary.

Although the sanctuary is just 5,700 acres, it forms a wildlife corridor between the larger wilderness areas either side of it. At its narrowest, this corridor is only 70 metres wide, but is

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traversed by some of the largest elephants left on the planet. Kimana’s significance stretches beyond its role as a passageway for the region’s wildlife. Its springs and swamps are also a critical water resource and habitat within the ecosystem, where seasonal fluctuations in water and resource availability dictate animal behaviour.

Competition for water between humans and animals in the area is at an all-time high, too, so the sanctuary’s value as a perennial water source has increased in recent years. The responsibility for protecting this important corridor was taken up in 2018 by the Big Life

Snapshot

Kimana Sanctuary

Foundation, with support from the Global Environment Facility, the D.N. Batten Foundation and the Sheldrick Wildlife Trust, which have covered the cost of the lease to the 844 Maasai who communally own the land.

As an example of the work that Big Life has carried out in the sanctuary, it recently completed a 48 kilometre human-elephant conflict-mitigation fence along the southern edge of the Kimana corridor conservancies, where rangeland borders farmland on the slopes of Kilimanjaro. To help fund these operations and the lease of the land, there has also been a renewed push for eco-tourism within the

sanctuary, including the improvement of their campsite infrastructure. Two of their campsites – Olchani and Elerai – are located in tranquil spots by the Kimana River, shaded by acacias with broad canopies and trunks that have been gnarled by years of elephant rubbing and stripping. Upstream from the campsites, and within the same lush fever tree forest, is Kimana House – an attractive four bedroom property with a wide veranda and a natural plunge pool.

Head to www.kimanasanctuary.com to learn more about the sanctuary and the work of Big Life.

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Big Life Foundation works in the iconic Greater Amboseli Ecosystem of southern Kenya and northern Tanzania. Big Life’s diverse conservation programmes aim to maximise conservationrelated benefits to local communities, and minimise conservation-related costs, and through this to change behaviors in favour of wildlife protection.

Big Life provides salary income to over 500 people – the majority of whom are community rangers, making it the biggest employer in the region. It also facilitates over 300 education scholarships, and provides support for the local healthcare system. Efforts to reduce the costs of living with dangerous wild animals include a compensation programme that reimburses local livestock owners a portion of their losses to wild predators, and construction of electric fences to protect smallholder farms from crop-raiding by elephants and other large herbivores.

Alongside important contributions from local partners, Big Life has achieved incredible success, and populations of key species such as elephants and lion are the highest on record. The remaining challenge is the biggest one – that of competition for space.

Big Life and partners are working to engineer a future for the ecosystem that is able to meet both the needs of developing human communities, and the spatial needs of migratory wildlife populations. The current opportunity to do this will exist only once, and the future of this incredible place depends on their success. Your support is needed to make it happen. Find out more at www.biglife.org.

A beach-and-bush escape to Manda Island Jan Fox has an unlikely encounter with buffaloes and explores ancient Swahili ruins in the heart of Kenya’s Lamu Archipelago WORDS JAN FOX PHOTOGRAPHS SCC KENYA

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ou see that high wall over there,’ our guide, Philip, said, pointing at a crumbling structure beneath a commanding baobab tree. ‘That was where Jomo Kenyatta was imprisoned by the British’.

We were on a tour of the Manda Town ruins, in the back of an open-top six-wheel Range Rover. Of all the remnants of ancient Swahili towns along Kenya’s coastline, these ruins in the north-western tip of Manda Island are the least visited. They were first excavated by archaeologist Neville Chittick in 1965, who traced the town’s origins to trade with the Persian Gulf during the 9th and 10th centuries.

Manda’s early inhabitants constructed buildings with burnt square brick, stone and a lime mortar – a technique found only on islands and coastal areas of Kenya. Buildings were also made from coral rag, the rubbly limestone cut from dead coral reefs. Chittick managed to identify seven main periods of occupation on Manda Island stretching over nine centuries, using fragments of Chinese porcelain, local and Islamic pottery and glass.

Today, the Manda Town ruins are surprisingly well preserved, albeit within tangles of thick vegetation. We explored most of them on foot, peering into the depths of overgrown wells, and admiring the intricately carved mihrab of one of the mosques. To get to an old sunken storage room beneath two stunning baobabs, we ducked under the giant web of a beautiful golden orb-weaver spider. And deep in the mangrove creek we caught glimpses of weathered sea walls.

Nature had taken over the old town, which lent the whole experience a sense of lucky discovery.

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Whether or not Kenya’s first president had been imprisoned on the island in the 1950s is not clear, but there was certainly a colonial detention camp on Manda. Files found at the Lamu Fort a decade ago included letters on prominent Kenyan freedom fighters such as Achieng’ Oneko, Bildad Kagia, Paul Ngei, Pio Gama Pinto and Muindi Mbingu, some of whom were detained in Lamu.

The correspondence was between local colonial administrators and the headquarters in Nairobi, as the detainees were moved between the various camps along the coast. All that is left today of the Manda Island prison and its rich history is a craggy wall, lost within a flourishing forest.

We followed a sandy two-track road away from the ruins into a clearing with a full water trough at its centre. We were in for another surprise.

A pair of wide, curved horns emerged from behind a screen of bushes, followed by the bulky brown frame of a male buffalo.

One41 of the beachfront rooms

Three others ambled behind him and stopped for a drink at the trough. Sitting in the company of buffaloes at the coast was just bizarre, and to top off this surreal beach-and-bush experience, we were joined by a raucous troop of baboons, and a pair of relaxed bushbucks. The buffaloes, we learnt, belonged to a 60-strong herd that became isolated when the narrow Mkanda Channel was dredged, separating Manda from the mainland. The herd was apparently followed by a pair of intrepid lions that swam across the channel, but were eventually chased away by herders after preying on livestock.

The expansion of the Mkanda Channel is symptomatic of ongoing large-scale developments in the Lamu Archipelago. The distant drone of a huge marine dredging vessel was ever-present in Manda Bay, where the Lamu Port is being constructed. But it will be a long time before the transport infrastructure on the mainland catches up with the expansion of the port, and before the bay is full of marine traffic.

Snorkelling in Manda Bay

In the meantime, as the landscape changes in the archipelago, its wildlife continues to adapt.

Between October and April every year, large flocks of carmine bee-eaters fly in from the mainland to roost on a mangrove island by the port. On our first evening, we headed to the island in a small boat, and drifted beneath a frenzy of thousands of squawking bee-eaters.

There is also plenty of marine life in the bay, concentrated around the reef beyond Manda Toto Island. We snorkelled in the area with our guide, Saidi – floating above the twitching mantle of a giant clam, avoiding the menacing black spines of sea urchins, and watching a shoal of stunning Moorish idols swirling in the currents. We also caught a glimpse of an impressive grouper, gliding along the sea floor.

The isolated Manda Bay lodge is the ideal base for exploring the archipelago. This boutique lodge sits on a pristine stretch of coast in the north of Manda Island, on the opposite side of the island to the busier Lamu Channel.

Half of its 22 rooms are beachfront, perched on a low sea wall with access to the lodge’s private beach, and with uninterrupted views out towards the bay and Pate Island. The remaining rooms are set back within groves of palm trees and acacias, still with sea views.

With palm-thatched roofs and large glassless windows, the rooms blend well into their surroundings, but they are also deceptively luxurious.

The Lamu Archipelago will inevitably evolve over the next few years, as the port is completed. But it will be a long time before the infrastructure of Kenya’s interior catches up to allow the port to function as it should. And tourists will continue to flock to the more familiar donkey-trodden alleyways of Lamu Town and Shela Village. So the Manda Bay lodge is bound to remain an isolated treasure for years to come.

For bookings and more information about the lodge, head to www.mandabay.com.

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Tailor-made safaris across East Africa The Safari and Conservation Company (SCC) is the reservations office for Borana

Lodge, Laragai House, Lengishu and Manda Bay. In addition to the properties, the company specialises in personalised, tailor-made itineraries for clients who wish to travel to Kenya, Ethiopia, Rwanda, Tanzania, Uganda, Madagascar and Soccotra.

Whether it is rhino tracking, quad-biking, fly-camping, deep-sea fishing, gorilla trekking or visiting remote and unusual destinations; SCC has an experienced and dedicated team that can put together your dream holiday in your preferred location. +254 (0)727735578 | reservations@scckenya.com | www.scckenya.com

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Red-tailed guenon - by Robbie Whytok, San Diego Zoo Global

Ebo Forest: a hotspot for conservation research under threat Cameroon’s Ebo Forest is the most biologically diverse area in the Gulf of Guinea. But with government plans to create two long-term logging concessions in the forest, its future is uncertain

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uring the course of his research in Cameroon’s Ebo Forest, biologist Dr. Ekwoge Abwe made a discovery that would launch his career. He stumbled across a troop of Nigeria-Cameroon chimpanzees in the forest canopy cracking open coula nuts with stones and wooden clubs. Later he witnessed the same chimpanzees ‘fishing’ for termites with sticks – making them the only known chimpanzees in the world to both crack open nuts and fish for termites.

Discoveries of this scale have become a defining characteristic of Ebo Forest over the last few decades. Early one morning on a research

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trip in 2002, Abwe’s mentor, Dr. Bethan Morgan, awoke to the distinctive sound of a gorilla beating its chest, in a forest where gorillas had never been scientifically recorded.

The group that she subsequently observed live in a section of the forest 200 km away from the nearest neighbouring gorilla population. Given their location, scientists have yet to determine whether the Ebo population belongs to the subspecies of Cross River Gorilla, Western Lowland Gorilla, or represents a subspecies previously unknown to science.

Such discoveries contributed to the decision of the Cameroonian government to begin the

process of establishing Ebo Forest as a national park, and in 2011 the government collaborated on a Nigeria-Cameroon Chimpanzee Action Plan. Since then, however, the government’s stance appears to have changed, and the future of the forest is now increasingly uncertain.

On the 4th of February 2020, Cameroon’s Minister of Forestry signed two orders proposing the classification of two forest management units for timber extraction. With a combined total of 1,296 square kilometres – nearly the entirety of Ebo Forest – the units would completely destroy the gorilla habitat, clear the section of the forest where chimpanzees crack nuts, and limit food sources for other animals with specific diets, such as Critically Endangered Preuss’s red colobus monkeys. Ebo’s proximity to Cameroon’s big cities makes it an easy target for poachers, too, who sell bushmeat to urban residents, and palm oil plantations are also encroaching on the forest.

In response to this significant shift in intentions for Ebo, over 60 scientists and researchers requested the government to suspend the plans to create the long-term logging concessions in the forest, through a letter delivered to Prime Minister Joseph Ngute’s office on the 28th of April. The scientists – including members of the Primate Specialist Group of the International Union for Conservation of Nature’s (IUCN) Species Survival Commission – urged the government to consider sustainable alternatives to logging, and to engage the local communities living around the forest to develop an inclusive land-use plan.

Over 40 communities live around and are dependent on the forest for their livelihoods. For most, it is a vital source of freshwater, food and medicine. Although they no longer live within the forest, they still maintain deep personal connections to it, and consider it ancestral land.

In acknowledgment of their ancestral heritage, the Cameroonian government recognises the Traditional Chiefs of these communities, who have played a significant role in the protection of the forest. So too have the Clubs des Amis de Gorilles, or ‘Gorilla Guardian Clubs’, whose members include former bushmeat hunters who now patrol the forest with staff of the Ebo Forest Research Project.

As well as emphasising the importance of involving such stakeholders in discussions over the development of the forest, the letter stressed the area’s environmental sensitivity.

In addition to the gorillas and the chimpanzees with a unique tool-use repertoire, the forest is home to an astonishing diversity of wildlife.

This includes a small, transitory population of forest elephants, one of only two remaining populations of Preuss’s red colobus monkeys, a considerable proportion of the world’s remaining wild drills (large ground-dwelling monkeys), foot-long goliath frogs, and over 300 bird species – including Vulnerable grey-necked rockfowls and Endangered grey parrots. The forest’s plant life is rich, too – at least 12 species cannot be found anywhere else on Earth.

“The forest holds an estimated 35 million tonnes of carbon, making it a site of global importance for the planet’s health” The protection of Ebo Forest would also be an indication to international partners of the Cameroonian government’s commitment to reduce greenhouse gas emissions, and the government might also be able to sell certifiable carbon credits on the carbon market. The forest holds an estimated 35 million tonnes of carbon, making it a site of global importance for the planet’s health.

With the submission of the letter, there is hope that the Cameroonian government will open the door for more dialogue as part of a broader land-use planning process for the Ebo landscape. With more time and engagement, a mutually beneficial solution can be reached – one that meets the economic development priorities of the government, and that preserves the integrity of the forest for the communities and wildlife that depend on it.

To learn more about the work of the Ebo Forest Research Project, head to their website, www.eboforest.org, and to read the letter to Prime Minister Joseph Ngute, click here: English | French 46

Fighting wildlife crime and corruption: an interview with Ofir Drori WORDS JAN FOX | OFIR DRORI PHOTOGRAPHS OFIR DRORI

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fir Drori is an Israeli wildlife law enforcement activist and anti-corruption whistleblower. His life was transformed in July 2002 when he rescued a baby chimpanzee from poachers in a remote town in eastern Cameroon. Determined to prevent the extinction of great apes through the bushmeat trade, and to fight the pervasive corruption within the Cameroonian government, he founded the world’s first wildlife law enforcement NGO – LAGA (the Last Great Ape Organisation). Just seven months after its creation, LAGA brought about the first wildlife prosecution in West and Central Africa. The NGO’s model has since been replicated in eight other countries across Africa, forming an association of activists known as The EAGLE Network (Eco Activists for Governance and Law Enforcement).

Ofir’s story is one of courage and adventure.

Before founding LAGA, he embarked on a number of solo journeys in remote corners of East and West Africa, taking few rations to immerse himself as fully as possible in his surroundings. By cutting the ‘safety rope’, as he calls it, he was able to open up to more fulfilling experiences in his engagement with the isolated communities that he encountered along the way. But it also nearly killed him, on more than one occasion. In Nigeria, he scrambled out of a steep valley after a horrific bus accident. On the bank of Ethiopia’s Gibe River, on the verge of starvation, he fed on the carcass of a baby hippo. And, again in Ethiopia years later, he escaped from the jaws of a three-metre long Nile crocodile.

I spoke to Ofir about his extreme adventures, and his environmental activism.

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Thanks for your time, Ofir. Tell us a bit about the work of LAGA and EAGLE. The EAGLE Network now operates in nine countries, in East, West and Central Africa. It’s a wildlife law enforcement NGO, which means that we attack trafficking from the enforcement side. We have local teams in each country with four different departments.

There are the undercover investigators whose role is to infiltrate trafficking rings, by gaining their trust and taking them down in sting operations. The operations department doesn’t give any information to the authorities, but collaborates with them to make arrests. The third is the department of legal representation, which follows up cases in court and handles prosecutions on behalf of the state. Lastly, there are media departments in each country, which publicise our actions to maximise the deterrent value – which is the aim of enforcement to begin with.

Most of our work is to fight corruption, which is the first obstacle of wildlife law enforcement.

The system is so dysfunctional that we come across clear instances of bribery in 85% of all our arrest operations. Our role is to intercept it and fight it. We don’t deal with poachers,

we deal with the traffickers that activate the poachers, and to date we have put over 2,700 major traffickers behind bars.

How has the current COVID-19 pandemic affected your operations, and has it had any noticeable effects on wildlife crime across the continent?

It’s quite complex. On the one hand, there has been an increase in crime – including wildlife crime – which is common in times of crisis.

Because of the uncertainty of the situation, people feel the need to make money. On the other hand, national and international movement in some countries has become more difficult. So wildlife crime is now more costly and complicated for traffickers because they have to give more bribes to the authorities to transport their goods.

Ofir with seized ivory

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All of our arrests have an international dimension. The illegal wildlife trade is by definition transnational, so there are usually multiple implicated countries. The products have to move – no ivory stays in Africa. So there are lots of different factors affecting the trade at the moment. But what is certain is that right now wildlife law enforcement is more important than ever. The authorities have diverted their attention. The travel restrictions are attractive to policemen who take more bribes, so they don’t carry out their normal work. In some instances, wildlife officers have been instructed by their ministers to stop all movement and cease their operations. So as a whole, enforcement is far lower and that means that our work is more important.

Having lived and worked in Cameroon for so long, you must be very familiar with the environmental significance of Ebo Forest.

Are you hopeful that the government will reconsider their plans for long-term logging concessions in the forest?

I’m not really optimistic. The issue of logging and illegal logging in Cameroon is quite a sad one. It’s a bit of a game. Historically, there has

Ofir and the rescued chimpanzee, ‘Future’

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always been a show of an internal fight within the government. For example, the Ministry of Forestry and Wildlife would claim that they are all for it, and then blame the Prime Minister’s office for not executing it, or vice versa. In the end I think that money speaks, so it’s all about the corruption in the logging sector, and the vested interests of individual officials.

I’ve just finished reading your book, The Last Great Ape. Early on, you describe an adventure in the bush south of Narok, in Kenya. After a heavy storm you thought: ‘God will not look you over for medals, degrees, or diplomas, but for scars’. You now have plenty of scars! Are you still as hungry for such extreme adventure as you were during these initial forays into the continent?

Well, my last attempt for such an adventure didn’t end very well, I was almost eaten by a crocodile!

It was around Christmas in 2013. I had just bought an inflatable canoe off a friend, and I decided to use it for an adventure on a remote section of the Omo River in Ethiopia.

Relaxing in the Niger River

The river is known for its huge, aggressive crocodiles, so I cannot say I was not stupid.

My theory was that I would be safe in the canoe, because the crocodiles would not go for prey that big. The first four days were wonderful – exactly what I wanted. It was wild, with communities living completely isolated.

I came across families every few hours, and they would touch my nose and hair. They fed me, and at night I slept with them in their straw huts.

That section of the Omo is wide, and it snakes.

All along there were crocodiles basking on the banks, which jumped into the water when they sensed my canoe. The whole time I thought ‘Look at these crocodiles, they are such cowards!’. So for four days, my theory about crocodiles and canoes was working very well.

And then it stopped working. I had reached an area that was so remote that there was no livestock, so no tsetse flies – which had been a pain in the ass the whole way. I was close to the bank, and I stopped and thought how grateful I was to have this experience in my life. That was the exact moment that it attacked me. A huge three-metre crocodile tried to eat me, or the canoe, from the belly up. It happened in a

fraction of a second. It wasn’t like an animal hunting you, or an elephant charging you.

There was no interaction, it was like a machinery accident, huge and powerful.

I was thrown into the air, and fell into the water.

But when I looked back I saw this monster and my leg in its mouth. My initial thought was that this was the end. But then nothing moved, the crocodile was still. It was weird. I started to struggle, which of course was stupid because who fights a crocodile? I kept kicking and moving for 10 seconds, because one of my legs was free. And then all of a sudden my other leg was free. I wriggled out of its mouth and scrambled to the bank of the river.

I have consulted with so many researchers and herpetologists since to understand what happened. They all said the same thing – that crocodiles wait for their prey to tire, before opening their mouth to eat it. So I kicked in the split second that he opened his mouth.

But I was still in the middle of nowhere. The muddy banks were lined by thick, dry forest. I made a tourniquet, and then improvised a couple of rafts. It was only in the afternoon of the second day that I was found, and that was the 50

Ofir at work with Future sleeping on his back. The scars on his chest and arm are from a near-fatal bus crash in Nigeria

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start of my rescue. I was transported from one clinic to another, eventually reaching the best hospital in Addis Ababa. But the doctor said I had to leave Ethiopia if I wanted to keep my leg. So I flew to Israel, where there are no crocodiles, so I was the first in the country’s history to be treated for crocodile wounds.

After four days I contracted a Central African strain of Malaria, which gets terrible very fast.

We couldn’t find the medication for it in Israel, so my sister started a campaign on social media. And then a stranger in the cyberspace – a girl with a golden heart – tracked down the medication and drove for four hours to give it to me in hospital. She saved me, and she is now my wife.

You have also trekked with only a camel to Turkana in northern Kenya, and along Ethiopia’s Gibe River, where you nearly starved. What drove you to undertake these journeys, and with so few rations?

When I first went to Kenya and stayed with Masai communities when I was 18, it really changed me. I learnt that you are your experiences. When I was younger, it was all about knowledge, and learning from knowledge.

But I realised that it was the experiences that formed you, and made you who you are. So I wanted to interact with cultures that kept their traditions alive. On the first journey I thought, whatever is in my backpack, I don’t need it. At the first opportunity, I gave my Walkman away.

I figured that if those who live in these remote areas move around with nothing, and survive, then I don’t need much either. So I avoided anything that acted as a safety rope. If you cut the safety rope, then you have an adventure.

You really become part of the environment. I became addicted to it.

In Cameroon in 2002, you were frustrated by the corruption and the lack of law enforcement for wildlife crime. In your book you said that it felt like you were ‘stood on the rim of a gorge with no way across’. Are you more optimistic about the situation in Cameroon, and across Africa, today?

I felt like that at the time because I didn’t have the tools to deal with it. The metaphor of the

gorge wasn’t the situation in Cameroon, but the lack of a way to do anything about it. I was a journalist, and I had written an article about the bushmeat trade, but I didn’t think that it would help. I only bridged the gap when I came up with the idea for LAGA, which was a new tool to effect change. So the pessimism stemmed from the inability to interact with the problem in a meaningful way.

Am I more optimistic about the situation today? I once worked with a British High Commissioner on anti-corruption legislation in Cameroon. In a meeting, he said: ‘Ofir, you’re really a glass half-empty kind of guy aren’t you?’. I replied: ‘I’m not a half-empty or halffull guy, I’m an activist. We don’t see what is full or what is empty, we just see what needs to be filled.’ I’m not an optimist or a pessimist. I’m not even a realist. I’m always trying to find solutions. As an activist, I don’t have the privilege of concluding that problems are fixed – they are never fixed. There are always things to fight. In your lifetime, all you can do is look back and know that you were doing more good than bad, making a difference and pushing in the right direction.

In reality, of course, there is plenty to be pessimistic about. We are dealing with such huge forces that are destroying nature, equality and democracy. But we don’t feel overwhelmed by it, because we know we are doing all we can to fight it. For me to get a good night’s sleep, I have to get a win. Activism isn’t about changing the world – you can’t change everything.

I see the same shit as everyone else, but my interaction with it is meaningful. My interaction with it gives me a good night’s sleep because of that.

To learn more about the important work of LAGA and The EAGLE Network, head to www.laga-enforcement.org or www.eagle-enforcement.org.

Ofir’s book, ‘The Last Great Ape: A Journey Through Africa and a Fight for the Heart of the Continent’, which he co-authored with David McDannald and published in 2012, is available on Amazon.

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Wild encounters with the chimps of Mahale Tanzania’s Mahale National Park, on the eastern shore of Lake Tanganyika, is one of the best places in the world to observe chimpazees up close in the wild WORDS & PHOTOGRAPHS ANDREAS FOX

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escending through the clouds, all I could see out of the window was bluegreen water with the odd white streak of a wave. I leaned inwards, and looked straight between the pilots and through the windscreen of the eight-seater PC-12. I had just started flying lessons myself and nervously laughed at what I saw: a short, dog-legged grass strip, starting at the water’s edge and abruptly ending below an ominous set of hills. I reminded myself that I preferred such small planes. I figure that you can see the pilot and if they are relaxed, then all must be well.

lakeshore, was our motorised dhow. We clambered aboard, ducking our heads under the wooden shade structure. I looked overboard to check and, sure enough, the water was ‘ginclear’, as all the literature never fails to mention.

With broad smiles, Butati and Mwiga, two of Nomad Tanzania’s guides, met us off the plane and asked us to sign in to Mahale National Park. With only one other, barely operational, lodge in the area, flicking through the book meant rapidly going back in time. I searched for familiar names and quickly found some of the usual suspects – amongst many repeated names were a motley crew of private guides.

We headed out of the reeds and into Lake Tanganyika – Africa’s deepest lake and an evolutionary biologist’s dream. Settled into a cleft of the Albertine Rift – the western arm of the Great Rift Valley – the lake is a long, narrow body of water, bordered by four countries. At nearly 700 km long, it’s shared

by Burundi in the north, Tanzania in the east, Zambia in the south and the DRC to the west.

With an average width of just 50 km, we could clearly see the Congolese hills opposite us.

Its deepest point is nearly a mile down, and it accounts for over 15% of all fresh water on the planet. By depth, volume and age, as a freshwater lake it’s second only to Lake Baikal in Siberia.

Many colleagues had regaled me with stories of this place, and I was thrilled to have finally made it out. It was both a little stressful and exciting to be taking guests to a destination I had never been to before. I had done my homework, but knew I would be relying on the local experts more than ever. My role had become less about knowledge and behavioural interpretation and more about being host, porter and cameraman. At the bottom end of the airstrip, moored amongst the reeds of the

We navigated our way through anchored wooden canoes, stationed off a fishing village on the park’s boundary. Children waved at us as they swam in the shallows, their parents tending to carpets of drying fish on the shore.

Behind the village were the towering hills at the heart of Mahale National Park. The boundary was clear to see as a defined change between open, cultivated land and thick, broad-leafed forest. Where the park extends into the lake, fishing has recently been banned.

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Primus - alpha male of the ‘M-Community’ at the time of writing

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The lake is famous for its diversity of cichlid fish species, the vast majority of which are found nowhere else on Earth. Even more fascinating is the fact that they represent the most extreme vertebrate version of ‘adaptive radiation’. Much like Darwin’s finches of the Galapagos, the Tanganyika cichlids originate from a recent common ancestor and rapidly evolved into different species of all colours, shapes and diets to take advantage of unexploited niches.

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Despite the boat fighting waves, we made steady progress southwards. Mwiga took the opportunity to introduce us to the next phase of our adventure. We had travelled all this way for the prospect of experiencing arguably the best wild chimpanzee encounters in the world. Over fifty years prior, Mwiga’s father had helped researchers from Kyoto University, Japan, find their own study groups of chimps here, having been beaten by Jane Goodall to Gombe, a hundred miles further north.

The project’s presence has ensured that successive generations of chimps, in what has become known as the ‘M-Community’, are habituated to humans. We were enthralled at Mwiga’s tales and delivery. With his eyes lit up and wide toothy smile, he mimicked chimp body language and gestures perfectly.

The anecdotes were wild and we were caught between excitement and trepidation. Between stories, I peered up at the steep forested slopes, binoculars in hand. Flashes of white amongst the canopies betrayed the location of yet another palm-nut vulture. That’s a Holy Grail species in some places. Here they are abundant. Fish eagles and migratory ospreys were there too, after the lake’s riches.

We eventually rounded a small headland, revealing what has to be one of the most iconic lodge entrances in all of Africa. A small crescent of white sandy beach emerges from the forest, lapped by the turquoise water. Framed by the clichéd ‘Jurassic Park’ background is the famous shaggy-thatched polygon that is Greystoke Mahale’s ‘mess’.

The inspiration for the name is clear – the lodge is surrounded by the type of thick jungle that Lord Greystoke encountered in the Tarzan films. We offloaded and walked over the sand past the remnants of a stricken dhow, destined to be refurbished into a bar. It gave us a clue about the place’s character. There are only six rooms at the lodge, all totally open-fronted and made from reclaimed dhows that used to ply trade routes across the lake. Intricate carvings and other subtle hints of the wood’s past can be found in the odd smudge of old paint.

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Michio up in the canopies

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In each room, dark hardwood decks lead to a king bed centerpiece, draped with mosquito net curtains. Along with a steep A-frame thatched roof, with fronds that nearly tickle the ground, this is all that would separate me from the nocturnal world outside. I had already noticed the old leopard poo on the path, but knew I had nothing to worry about.

I was in love with this bedroom, but had a feeling that my guests were going to be a little apprehensive that night.

In the evening, we gathered at the sundowner bar, which tucks into the headland we rounded upon arrival. Over gin, tonic and snacks we had our thorough briefing from Mwiga and Butati. We were told of correct etiquette and the importance of surgical masks, to prevent the transfer of possible illnesses to our closest relatives. Wild stories of chimps going mad at the sight of leopard print clothing or tying up a ranger with vines, worked their magic. We went to bed merry and excited at the prospect of the next day’s ‘chimping’.

No sooner had I tucked in, I could hear a rustle outside. Then it began grunting and snorting. Bushpigs are said to be common and I couldn’t resist catching a glimpse. I snuck out through the ‘mozzy-net’ and beamed a torch. His white mane draped over his russet flanks, it was one of the best views I’d ever had of this creature.

Breakfast was at 8 am, a lie-in by most safari standards. We were to come out ready to go into the forest at a moment’s notice. The tracker team was already out searching for the chimps. The radio call came in and we made for the boat. The chimps were located in an area that made starting by the research station easier.There are no motorable roads in this part of the park. We walked along footpaths that had been cut to facilitate the research and tourist access. The humidity was brutal. Only 30 minutes in, drenched in sweat, I noticed that my camera lens was beginning to fog up. Then we heard them. A distant crescendo of howls and hoots. Minutes later we had caught up with them.

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Christmas being groomed by Christina

We were watching a group of males and Butati began introducing the characters. ‘Michio, Christmas, Orion and the alpha male, Primus.’

All grooming, but as Butati explained, uneasily analysing each other for hints of hierarchical affirmation or defiance. For weeks, a coup had been brewing.

Chimpanzees, despite appearing small when you’re stood nearby, carry an air of brute strength and unpredictability. I’ve been lucky to spend many hours with both them and gorillas, and I find chimps more intimidating. I guess it’s the nature of their politics, or occasional murderous behaviour, in contrast to the stereotypically gentle, family-oriented society of their much larger cousins. It makes chimps even more human-like, I suppose.

My thoughts were soon contradicted when we found a pair of females with their offspring.

Deliberately separated from the males and their posturing, these girls were ever so tenderly playing and grooming. Facing each other, the females clasped hands over their heads and used their spare hand to meticulously search the other’s fur for lice – the famous ‘Mahale High Five’; apparently not seen in any other chimp population.

Sweaty, but elated, we returned to camp for showers and lunch. An afternoon swim was in order. The threat of crocodiles meant we couldn’t just dive in from the beach.

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Instead, we packed a cooler box, jumped on board a dhow and went in search of hippos and birdlife.

Turning back to camp, we headed out further into the lake, where the floor falls steeply into the abyss. It was too deep for hippos and no reason for crocs at that depth. Back-flipping into the water, I beckoned my guests to join me. The water was unlike any I had ever experienced. Warm and without salt to sting the eyes, it’s clear enough to see for metres until it disappears into inky depths. The mild soapy sensation on the skin, a result of the ever-soslight alkalinity, felt silky. It began to drizzle.

The warm water was blissful and the scene on shore magnificent – a rainbow briefly developed through the clouds, shrouding Mahale’s peaks. A storm was coming and it was time to head back.

That night I was woken up by an almighty lightning strike. It struck so close, there was no interval between the flash and the thunder. A succession of storms came through, creating the most dramatic pyrotechnics and bed-shaking rumbles. There was no chance that any of us were asleep. I sat up to watch the show, and thought how lucky I was to be able to do this all over again the next day.

For safari enquiries or to learn more about the Mahale National Park, email af@andreasfoxsafaris.com.

Primus eating fruit on the forest floor

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