Brian Fisher

Tuesday, Dec. 9

The Makay is a mosaic of temporal and spatial harsh extremes. At noon you are sentenced to Death Valley at 47 degrees Celsius, burned by the scalding rocks and, following the example of the locals, silenced to reduce oral vapor loss. Then a few hours later, you are shivering in a flash flood, hoping that if anyone still has hidden away a bottle of rum, they will rescue the moment and pass it around.

A bottle of Pastis surfaces (it is a French film crew, after all), mixed with rainwater, and all is good. Florent impersonates Saint Nicolas (it was Dec. 6), and we enjoy the moment in the rain and the cold.

Brian Fisher

In this desert panorama of rock and canyons, there are pockets of green. The eastern rain forest of Madagascar resurfaces in these patches, while elements of the southern spiny bush fauna and flora dominate the surrounding dry slopes and canyons. At the highest reaches, the mountains are outlined in Uapaca woodland, typical of the central high plateau. All elements of Madagascar — rain forest, spiny bush and central plateau — are present; and at the same time, it is like no other place I have visited in Madagascar.

Brian Fisher

A week ago, the 65-member base camp divided into three satellite camps: dry forest, palm oasis and caves. The seven-seat helicopter — our miracle machine — taxied folks to faraway camps with the plan to pick them up a couple of days later. The archaeologists all headed off to the caves; the mammalogist, primatologist, herpetologists and some of the entomologists took off for the dry forest; while I, the ichthyologist, crocodile experts and the botanist headed to the palm oasis.

What a luxury: no porters (and no extended porter negotiations), no days of hiking, no endless thirst, no knees so weak you would wonder if you could ever dance again. Just a 15-minute ride in the yellow miracle machine. Just think of all the sites we will visit and collect. Other ant researchers will wonder how we were able to visit so many sites and collect so many species. This will spoil me for all future trips in Madagascar.

Brian Fisher

Our two days in the palm oasis went by quickly. I ran around collecting ants, butterflies, dragonflies, spiders and lacewings. I visited caves and bamboo thickets. There were more canyons to explore and more insects to discover, but it was time to leave. As scheduled, the helicopter arrived, strangely dropping off an unscheduled load of rice and pasta. (Yum, but where’s the beef?) Vince, the South Africa crocodile expert, whispered to me, “This is not good.” He had overhead the pilot’s first words, “Sorry, guys.” And then the pilot was off.

The Makay is tough on everything. Razor-sharp thorns, gritty sand and frequent rains make up our days. My only pair of pants (all my other clothes were lost when the bag was dropped from the helicopter) lasted only one day of hiking around the palm canyon, and now they are shorts above increasingly red-streaked legs.

Each evening, we sat around rubbing iodine-soaked gauze on our wounds. Some folks took to almost bathing in it, turning their skin reddish-orange like the Himba of northern Namibia. Skin, shoes, shirts and pants weren’t made for this, nor was the camera equipment. The sand and rain turned most of the electronic gear into expensive black bricks (no wonder those on the film crew rent most of their equipment). But that magic yellow machine kept going, picking up food back at Tsivoko, dropping passengers here and there, and making up to 17 flights a day. I was wondering the other day how long it could go before needing a checkup.

There was no way to walk directly back to base camp. Though it was only 17 kilometers away, there was no way we could transport all our gear with porters through this unexplored labyrinth of canyons. We would have to first head to the dry forest camp, then make our way to the lake camp (where I found the flint rifle and military buttons) and then head out of the Makay to the village of Beronono. We would then have to send for vehicles, and if the river crossings cooperated, we could be back in Tsivoko after a day of driving. From there, it would only be a three-hour hike back to base camp. So if all went well (really, really well, since we would also need to find 20 porters) we could be back at base camp in three or four days. But for now, as we wait for word from the mechanics in South Africa, there is more time to collect ants, and more time to explore the next canyon over.

Brian Fisher

What a shame that one of the five archaeologists did not come with us (or lucky for them that they are a one-day walk from base camp). I climbed up an isolated ridge near the oasis, and to my surprise, the hilltop was covered in hundreds and hundreds of broken pieces of ceramic. I’ve often found pottery fragments in caves that were probably frequented by travelers, but a hilltop covered in pottery demands an explanation. Why are they here? Who made these pots? Why are they broken? The locals with us did not offer any explanations.

Later in the day, I was walking up a steep slope and spotted a very small cave. I made my way over along the steep face to look in. In this small cave, lying on its side, was a large ceramic pot. Why didn’t an archaeologist come with us?