Lessons Learned the Hard Way – No. 32

11 06 2009

Natron campsite mw

 “And before retiring for the night, please check your sleeping bag for elephants.”

 

Always be very careful where you pitch your tent.

 

I consider myself quite adept at pitching a tent. I find a patch of ground as level as possible. If there’s an incline, I place my head on the high ground. I carefully clear away rocks and check for roots. If there’s rain, I avoid obvious depressions in which water could pool. If I’m there through the day, I pitch under the shade of a tree. If it’s particularly hot, I aim the tent into any possible breeze and leave the flaps open. If I’m doing laundry, I position myself close enough to a tree or fence to string a clothes’ line. And, if anywhere particularly wild, I make sure I’m neither on migratory routes, hunting grounds, mating spots or pitched over suspicious looking holes.

 

In northern Zimbabwe I had a perfect spot that met all of my important criteria. I placed my tent by a tree for shade and strung a clothes’ line. Although this meant I was partially in the dead foliage that surrounded its trunk, the ground was level and there were no uncomfortable bumps. Nighttime came and I zipped up the flaps.

 

A few hours later I awoke to a rustling sound. I lay on my back waiting for my eyes to adjust to the soft light that was filtering through the canvas and attempted to locate the source by sound. It emanated from three sides and was a quiet but steady rustling and scratching noise. As I stared, my eyes gradually grew accustomed and there, on the outside of the canvas, silhouetted by the light, were hundreds and hundreds of giant millipedes.

 

Crawling and sprawling and slithering and sliding over each other. Two or three inches deep on the incline of the canvas. A heaving and writhing mass of insectitude. Even in the soft light, I could make out their millions of spindly legs, and their bobbing heads and hear their sharp little mandibles scraping against the taut canvas.

 

Now, I’m not especially an insectophobe. I don’t particularly like crawly things -especially when they’re in my food or crawling on my body or eating my flesh – but I don’t have massive fears of them either. However, seeing this seething mass encircling my fragile fabric cocoon was more than a little disconcerting. I used my flashlight to frantically scan for holes, but there were none. My door flap remained properly closed and there didn’t appear to be any friends massing at the front with battering rams. I contemplated making a running, screaming dash for safety…but couldn’t quite figure out where I would go, and I certainly wasn’t going to wade into the knee-deep millipede maelstrom and re-locate my tent.

 

The horror heightened and every few moments my leg would spasm at the caress of an imagined visitor. My periodic flashlight surveillance continued until I finally fell fast asleep again. Come the morning and the sunlight, my nocturnal visitors were gone and my restless night seemed silly…but I will never again pitch my tent on the dead foliage around the base of a tree!

 

 

Photo and post by: Simon Vaughan © 2009 

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One response

24 06 2009
led flashlight

Great article. Keep on sharing 🙂

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