Watching turtles sure beats must-see, must-do mania

Learning to sit and watch the world can be a fine art, but it's not as easy as it sounds.

On a day in Swaziland, for example, our group of 16 was offered many choices.

Two young women woke at 6 a.m. to climb Execution Peak. My daughter and her husband joined a group that spent the day inside inflatable kayaks, challenged by a river's rapids. Two adventurers explored an underground cave system while a pair of Dutch doctors rented mountain bikes.

The night before, I pondered my options.

I was in no shape to make a steep mountain climb. I have a nasty habit of dumping boats into rivers. Narrow cave passages give me claustrophobia, and I would slow up more-experienced mountain bikers.

So I elected to sit. And I felt guilty. Tourists are so programmed to milk every moment of adventure out of an expensive trip - such as this one - that simply sitting for a morning seemed like a waste of time.

I am not as active as I once was and, as the oldest member of our group, wise enough to admit when I'm in over my head. I have noticed age can bring wisdom.

The night before, I watched most of the group engage in a wild drinking game while I smiled, sipped on a Diet Coke and excused myself early to get some rest. There is no shame in retiring early while the youngsters dance, drink and discuss.

On this muggy morning, I sat alone next to an open window at the Hippo Haunt Restaurant and Bar sipping a cold drink, determined to watch the wild world around me. My observation spot was perched on a lake covered by a strange brown, almost primeval, ooze.

Herons, ibis and egrets adopted a tree perhaps 100 yards from my chair. Their squawks and chirps kept me company during an otherwise silent vigil.

Clouds floated above the African landscape and mountain peaks peeked through in the distance. Warthogs, my favorite African animal, fed beside the grass huts that served as home for two nights.

Soon, a pair of eyes appeared above the surface of the brown ooze, followed by another and still another.

I was being watched.

At first I thought the large eyes and big nose belonged to huge bullfrogs, the kind whose hearty bellows filled the night with eerie sounds. But, upon closer examination, I discovered the visitors were turtles.

The reason for their presence escaped me until a small boy appeared near a table at the restaurant. He tossed bread into the brown pond and, suddenly, nearly a dozen turtles gathered to beg.

On one end of the lake, the color of the brown ooze separated, leaving a pattern of S-shaped curves of a greenish color. The pattern was beautiful.

We all experience new places in our own ways, some by conquering them, others by observing, most by doing a little of both.

But, looking back upon my African adventure, I'll remember my morning with fondness.

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* TOM WHARTON can be reached at wharton@sltrib. com. His phone number is 801-257-8909. Send comments about this column to living editor@sltrib.com.