Time flies, things speed up the closer they come, life can become a whirlwind at times.

After deciding to go on safari again I booked a hunt for August at February’s Harrisburg  Sport Show. The five months until departure seemed far in the future then, but before it seemed possible those months flew by and suddenly, I was packing.

My daughter, Julie, would be accompanying me to Africa and, not one to waste an opportunity to put dad to work, had me arrive at her home in Rhode Island two weeks early so I could do some design work on a bedroom wall and remove the ugly popcorn ceiling as well. After finish coating the drywall seams properly and repainting the ceiling and redesigned room it turned out fantastic.

The big day came and we fought our way through the tunnels to Boston’s Logan Airport. The one-hour trip from Cranston took two. We checked our luggage, showed our passports and walked forever to U.S. Customs to check in the rifle. A long haul to our gate but we still had two hours till departure. Good time for lunch.

Returning, we saw our departure time to Newark changed from 4:30 to 5:30 p.m. Not good, but still spare time to catch our flight to Johannesburg.

Then the time changed to 6:30. Things are getting tight, we could just catch our flight now. The time changed again — now there was no chance of catching our flight to Africa. It would be 24 hours before the next flight out of Newark. At that point we canceled, called poor Seth, Julie’s husband, to leave and pick us up. No way we’d spend 24 hours at Newark. So Seth drove to Boston the second time that day. It was past midnight when we made it back.

Fed up with Newark, we’d spoken to a man from Portugal who’d been in Boston for two days waiting to get there. Julie booked a late flight with Delta/KLM to Amsterdam then  Johannesburg. That flight left on time and we arrived in Amsterdam around 3 in the morning for our five-hour layover. We tried to sleep lying on airport furniture. Ugh.

I remember coming out of a doze to see the sun peeking up over the Netherlands’ horizon, flooding the airport with light. Beautiful in a way, despite the crick in neck and back.

Daylight revealed our plane was waiting at the gate. Nice. We boarded on time and began the almost 11-hour flight. The third person in our group of seats was a middle-aged woman from Scotland, Ronine, with a charming accent who was very interesting to talk to. She was an equestrian and from Johannesburg, flying in a smaller plane to a remote location where she’d ride horseback viewing game and see the sights. She informed us one had to be an accomplished rider to make the trip, just in case something with big teeth and sharp claws took a liking to you.

At that point staying on a bucking, jumpy, terrified horse could be critical to staying alive. Well, such possibilities certainly spice things up a bit!

Between two Harry Potter movies, conversation and dozing, the long flight wasn’t all that bad, I guess. Finally, the plane arrived over nighttime Johannesburg where the city seemed to spread out beneath us forever. We landed and found our way to baggage claims, then another long trek to arrivals.

I was relieved to meet our guide, Vihan Wentzel, amongst the crowd. He recognized me from Harrisburg; I’d drawn a whitetail buck on the form, and he remembered that. It was 10 p.m. He led us to the section where staff made sure customs gave us no problems and picked up my gun case.

Vihan is young, 22, about 6-1 and heavily built. He spoke softly and ended every sentence with “sir” or “ma’am.” I found that very refreshing.

To his truck and on our way to the lodge, another four hours. We were very tired, but alert for the journey. Once on the four-lane I noticed we were moving right along and glancing over saw the speedometer pegged at 90 mph. Fine with me, I wanted to get there.

We stopped for fuel and snacks about half way. African soda tastes different, better, and the different flavors in the snacks! Several times we flashed by small police trucks but they seldom stop you and if they do a $10 bribe gets you on your way. We saw many old, small, overloaded trucks pulling trailers piled 6 to 10 feet high. The police pull those over to collect their bribe, but whoever is paying for the transport has the bribes figured into the travel costs. Needless to say, we saw several of these ridiculously overloaded vehicles broken down on the roadside.

Three and a half hours later we hit the dirt section of our journey. The road was wash-boarded in stretches and rutted. Vihan slowed down to 50 or 60. He explained the faster you go over them the smoother it is.

We arrived at 2 a.m. The beautiful lodge entrance and main hall were filled with mounted animals of all kinds and beautifully African. Vihan carried our luggage to our rooms and asked if we needed anything.

Yes, sleep, and we collapsed into bed. Tomorrow, bright and early, the hunt begins.