CasKate

You have never seen a waterfall like My Waterfall. And, unfortunately, due to the black diamond trickiness of getting there (we almost get swept away by rapids), I probably won't be able to bring my camera to fix this. So take my word, it's the best waterfall I've ever seen, around 80 feet, complete with pond placids and crawling caves on the way. There's even a bit of a throne behind the sheet of water for one to channel her inner Sports-Illustrated-Of-the-Year-ness. Gorgeous.

Ingle has another magnificent 80-or-so-foot fall of which I do have photos. It's the biggest water-wise in Kédougou, too powerful to swim beneath and with too much misty spray to bring a camera very close. It falls in a mesmerizing pattern of curved arrow-heads that appear to be magically set in slow beautiful motion. The breaking pool beneath it turns to rapids turns to gentle water-beds next to which I camped. The trees on top and on the rocks framing the seperate pools look like pretty little bonsais next to it. Dragonflies circle the Eden scene in crayola-bright blues and reds like something from "What Dreams May Come."

Sitting in mermaids' pose in the mist facing the giant cascade, I beat my Best Rainbow Sighting record of a previous entry. This one reached around in a full circle that met at me and colored the cool white water around. I'd never realized that the arch of rainbows hints at their preferred nature to circle completely. (Can anyone tell me why?) It also boasted a double arch.

I slept next to the hushed roar of the fall, the trickle of the streambed, the finger-tapping of rain-on-tent, and a distant rumbling of thunder. People at home buy special machines to fall asleep to just one of these sounds and I got to have them all! AND wake up to sweet Cinderella birds. (The babboons only added to the symphony during the day).

Jealous beyond the power of speech yet? I suupose I can divulge a few unfortunate details as well. For example, the trip. THANK YOU, mother, for those shoes, without which I'd surely now lack feet. Through knee-high boiling mud, sand, animal poo, wretched flies, everyprickerbushIcouldpôssiblydriveinto, cornstalks, cotton, rocks, vines, rivers, rapids, and more spills than I care to admit-- I felt like a testing pilot for the most extreme conditions the shoe company could find. Think they'd care to have an insane PCV's endorsement ad? My bike didn't fare so well. I pulled out fist-sized clumps of mud and human-lengthed vines, and my tire tore sustantially even before it managed to wrap itself around the gear wheel and obtain even more holes beyond hope of repair. Luckily this transpired upon reaching the edge of my village. Before this, the trek involves crossing a strong-currented river (lumbagol) of water that now happens to go to my chin. This happens to be difficult with a bike (see photo). But, where there's a will that's lost its reason, there's also a way!

Other than the slight bodily harm that comes with such a trip, and two snakes I missed, there's not much else that was bad. I learned I can't fire-roast corn as well as my family (SO GOOD), but the packet of trader joes indian food (THANKS dad and MB!) fully compensated. We didn't have mugs the next morning, but using the nescafé container was funnier anyway (see other picture).

Also, if any of my villagers somehow didn't think I was crazy before, they definitely do now. The concept of camping seels to be difficult to get across. Without a translation for "tent", I'm left with telling them I slept in a "cloth room". Scandels abound!