Seeking a true cultural experience, Cameron immerses himself in some uniquely Turkish hospitality in Istanbul.

By Cameron Fergus

Face down on the cool, smooth marble slab, I lay hot, sweating and uncomfortable. The air’s humidity has formed into huge balls of condensation which plummet from the domed ceiling high above. When the drops don’t hammer directly onto my head and body, they bombard the slab all around, showering me with tiny staccato splashes. In a desperate attempt to adjust to the heat, my pores open and emit a seemingly endless supply of moisture.

I am alone, and virtually naked. Out of my depth. Unsure of protocol, I shift uncomfortably in the gathered pond of condensation and sweat — and wait. I sense movement around me. At first it is near my feet where they dangle over the rounded edge of the slab, and then alongside my hips, body, then shoulder. Just as I expect it to make contact, the presence retreats. I am tense, alarmed, but not yet scared. But I am absolutely out of my comfort zone. I am out of my comfort horizon. Out of my comfort hemisphere.

To find some sense in the uncertainty I recall all that I know for sure: I am partially covered, but not clothed. I am lying on a marble slab, with my body giving up the last of its essence. I feel abandoned, but a presence lurks just out of reach. My verdict: I am dead. The adventure ends here. Without a fight, without a whimper. But other factors conspire to contradict this conclusion: I am not cold — as I would expect to be in death — but in a warm place. My body does not give up blood and excreta, it only offers sweat.

But as I begin to think that I may not yet have reached the end of my life, the presence returns, this time beside my head. The first words are deep, husky, and tobacco-stained: “I am here”. (more…)

Many of Africa’s greatest adventures lie well away from the main tourist trails. Cameron Fergus climbs Oldoinyo Lengai in Tanzania for a new perspective on God and man.

By Cameron Fergus

“It’s a volcano, as long as we keep going up we’ll be fine.” My girlfriend’s plan to abandon our guide, though ambitious, was also probably a little too impulsive. Here we were, in the pitch-black African night, halfway up an active volcano in Tanzania, surrounded by thick fog in an area frequented by leopards, and our guide was fast asleep at our feet. Okuni, our brave Maasai warrior, experienced mountain guide, and only hope of scaling the volcano, possessed the enviable ability to fall instantly and deeply asleep. It was time for a decision. Try again to wake our slumbering leader or push on alone.

We had come to this rugged corner of northern Tanzania to climb Oldoinyo Lengai, an ancient volcano known to the Maasai tribe as the “Mountain of God.” The volcano was precisely the off-the-beaten-track destination we were looking for. A picture-perfect volcano emerging almost 10,000 feet from the surrounding plains, it epitomized remoteness, and, let’s face it, climbing the Mountain of God just sounded epic.

Our drive to the volcano — often simply referred to as “Lengai” — from the town of Arusha followed a collection of roads, tracks, and goat trails that are typical of East Africa. The drive was interrupted twice, both times in a uniquely African manner: a giraffe munching on an Acacia tree in the middle of the road, and an opportunity to take a close-up photo of a lion sleeping in the shade. Finally, after a long, hot, and dust-blown adventure we arrived at the shore of Lake Natron in the late afternoon. (more…)