THE organisation at the Orapa end was fantastic and, by 2.45am we had been joined at Mopipi by Gavin, Ray and John, equipped with everything we had asked for, plus a lot of things we had forgotten.
The team’s wives must have stripped their store-cupboards, for we were certainly not going to starve. Gavin produced a case of beer and my offer of another brew of tea was rejected.
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We cracked a can apiece, laid out the maps on the floor, and settled down to work out a plan of campaign. Little Karen slept through everything.
At 4.45, the boat crews left. By first light Ted and Gavin were on the river, but Ray and John were going to have to look for a suitable launching place in the area where Ted and I had been the night before.
(Meanwhile, back in the boat, Rachel had spotted a possible landing place, and five frozen souls were getting themselves out of the reeds and onto dry land. They reckoned that we would have camped at Mopipi and would soon be heading back to Orapa to fetch help. They didn’t expect a search party to be in the area before mid-morning but, on the off-chance that we had radio-ed for an air search, they built a big fire and collected plenty of wet reeds to use for creating smoke signals.)
By 7.15, Ray had decided to use a known launching place, rather than waste any more time searching for one which might not even exist.
His route took him close to where the missing party had landed, but not quite close enough for him to see them.
(Meanwhile, down by the river, they were surprised to see Ray’s Land Cruiser in the area. As it was far too early to expect a search party to be out, they assumed that he had taken the day off to go fishing.
They decided that they must be within walking distance of the road and that Byron should walk due north until he reached the track, and then hitch a lift to Mopipi.
He duly set off, but was misdirected several times – possibly because of the difference in accent between the Rhondda Valley and the Makgadikgadi – and went quite a long way west of the direct route. He found the road, but couldn’t hitch a ride. There was no traffic.
After Byron left, Corrie and the children set about making breakfast. They had two good-sized bream, caught the day before, but nothing with which to improvise cooking utensils. Soon they were tucking into a meal of fish which was charred and sandy on the outside and almost raw on the inside. Julian asked if this was what was known as ‘survival’?)
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