Everyone is afraid of something: the dentist, public toilets, spiders, the infinite vacuum in Nazi brains or coleslaw flatulence in a full lift to the 43rd floor. I’m afraid of three things: Cruises, permanent campers and safaris. Fortunately, I was able to tick off cruises and long-term campers in one go two years ago on a Philippine ferry. That leaves safaris.
The thing I’m afraid of on safaris is the people. Yes, I’ve read Tommy Jaud. But beyond that, there’s still plenty of room for socks in sandals, safari hats and fanny packs as beer belly holders. Elitist champagne breakfasts in air-conditioned safari tents at sunset. The disconnection with nature in a snow globe. And the burning question: “Karl-Heinz, why didn’t your mum ever buy you a guinea pig?”.
I like real life and I like animal films. My favourite thing is when people behave like in animal films. But when animals become the crème de cassis on the luxury holiday of completely nature-deprived big city hippies, then I don’t like that at all. Nor do I like it when people see more through lenses than pupils. It’s like going to a concert with an MP3 player.
Enough grumbling. We travel two and a half hours by tuktuk to Wilpattu National Park, 80 kilometres away. As usual, the road trip is a mixture of lots of dust, diesel soot and oncoming bus drivers on the way to paradise – but wonderfully authentic. There is hardly anyone here at the moment, so we have to hire a huge safari jeep for ourselves. The entrance fee to the national park is also quite steep at €35, but thanks to my superhero ID card, I can get in for free. Advantage: no Karl-Heinz on board, just lots of animals all around.
We don’t see any of the 50 leopards in the 700-hectare Wilpattu National Park. But on the four-hour swing tour through the jungle, spotter Adlerauge spies owls, monkeys, monitor lizards, eagles, deer, wild boar, crocodiles, the Sri Lanka rooster, pelicans, herons and 7,315 termite mounds. The only thing we lame safaristas spot ourselves are two elephants harvesting seaweed. Made us mighty proud.
The next day, the wind is blowing again with an average of 22 knots. We enjoy our last day of kitesurfing together on the Kalpitiya lagoon. Tuktuk home for the sunset, and another great meal. Max is upset that we’re not having prawns for the tenth time in a row. I’m looking forward to the chicken.
Frank Woelky, born in 1973. Kitesurfer since 1998. Since 2006, I have been combining kitesurfing and web design on trips lasting several months off the beaten track.