With the other elephant now freed, lying on his side, and stable, Ben came over to touch base with me.
‘Good job,’ I said. ‘So far, so good!’
‘Gerry was insane going into that ravine, but he knows what he’s doing and it did the job. How was that other elephant?’
‘Sleeping like a baby. Silke’s with him now.’
‘Great. OK, so they’ll get the JCB to clear a path for the trailers and then we can load them up and head out. Oh, and I darted this one at about twenty past nine so he should need his first top-up at ten, in about fifteen minutes.’
‘Perfect,’ I replied.
All went well, and in less than an hour the JCB had cleared a wide enough path through the thick brush of trees, shrubs and bushes for the first trailer to navigate a way through with the crane. By around 10.30 the first elephant’s legs had been roped together, and he was slowly hoisted into the air, with two people supporting his trunk, and a team of others helping to direct his body into the right position so that he could be carefully lowered onto the trailer. Car tyres were placed under his head and hind legs to offer some cushioning, and once everyone was happy with his position he was strapped down. The straps were more to prevent him slipping during the journey than to hold him down; if he woke up, he would have little trouble freeing himself from them.
With the first elephant successfully loaded, it was now the turn for our one. The first trailer was positioned so its crane could be used for loading him onto the second trailer. The timing was perfect: it was 10.45 a.m., and I had just given him his next top-up, which meant the stimulation of the move would be less likely to rouse him. The procedure was repeated, and within ten minutes Lotter (as he had been named) was safely loaded. I made sure his ears and trunk were positioned well, while others busied themselves securing him into position. The move had brought his respiratory rate up to 5 and his heart rate to 44, but this would soon settle down. I was joined by Andrew and Laura, Andrew noting the readings, and supervising the timing and dosage of the Etorphine, and Laura to monitor the animal’s breathing – and to inject me with Naltrexone if I accidentally injected myself. We settled ourselves down for the three-hour journey ahead.
Slowly we set off, the driver carefully negotiating his way along the newly created path. He drove hesitantly, constantly looking in his rear-view mirror to catch my eye to ensure that everything was going smoothly. He was clearly more used to transporting a cargo that didn’t run the risk of either suddenly getting off the trailer or deciding to join him in the cab if it woke up. After ten minutes we came out of the bush to a large clearing where we were shortly joined by the other two trucks. All three elephants had been safely loaded. The operation so far seemed to be going very smoothly, but the most dangerous stage was yet to come: taking them onto the open road.
Once again, people busied themselves around the trailers, with final checks on each elephant to ensure they were secure for the journey. Others took the opportunity to pour buckets of water over them in an attempt to keep them cool in the ever-increasing midday heat. Silke, Ben and I exchanged updates on our patients. Meanwhile Jacques had once again taken to the sky, this time with the camera crew to get some aerial footage. With everything set and everyone happy it was time to set off. Lyle would be at the front of the convoy with the escort vehicle, and now went round the three trailers in turn to give his final instructions: essentially that if we had any problems we should wave hysterically and get on the radio.
Then we were off, with our trailer taking the lead, but almost instantly disaster nearly struck. A hundred metres or so from the clearing, we had to negotiate a gateway that took us into the first of the three fields. As the trailer bounced over the ruts and potholes that marked the entranceway one of the elephant’s feet slipped forward, hanging off the edge of the trailer, as we approached the gate. The gap was so tight between the edge of the trailer and the gatepost that the leg was now in imminent danger of getting wedged between the two, with catastrophic consequences. Fortunately, we spotted the problem seconds before impact and frantically hammered on the driver’s back window. His response was instantaneous, and the danger avoided. My heart was pounding; I had imagined all manner of things that could go wrong, but something as simple as negotiating a gatepost was not one of them. I felt my whole body tense. It was exhilarating to be so actively involved in the operation, but everything had to go smoothly, and to plan, for me to enjoy the experience rather than endure the strain that I was now feeling.
With the legs safely repositioned we continued at a crawl. The other two vehicles, cautious after our close encounter, successfully negotiated the gateway. As we made it into the open fields, I became aware of the true beauty of our surroundings, as though seeing it for the first time: the majestic mountain range in the background starkly highlighted against the pastel blue sky, the dense African bush with the acacia trees forming its canopy, and in the foreground our convoy of vehicles negotiating their way across the copper red soil through the tobacco plantation. As I stood wedged between the tusks of this 3.5-tonne elephant, his rhythmic snores audible above the grumble of the truck’s engine, I once again contemplated this incredible experience.
The trucks trundled on, but we soon noticed that we had pulled ahead of the second truck, and it became apparent something was amiss. Lyle brought the convoy to a halt and went back to see the cause of the hold-up. The truck’s back right wheel had slipped into the furrow bordering the edge of the muddy road, causing the trailer to tilt at a dangerous angle. If the elephant should slide, he would topple the trailer and potentially take the truck with it. I couldn’t help remembering the final scene in The Italian Job: things were just as precariously balanced when Lyle arrived. Fortunately, the elephant remained securely positioned and with all the passengers moving to the left side of the truck to counterbalance the weight, the driver was able to correct the error and another disaster was safely averted.
The remaining journey through the fields, onto the farm track and to the farm entrance went to plan. We paused to recheck the elephants’ positions and the strapping. It was also now time to top up the elephants with Azaperone, a drug that counteracts the hypertensive effects of Etorphine. The drug had been part of the original cocktail Ben had used to dart them, but after a couple of hours, the network of blood vessels in the elephants’ ears were all much more prominent: a sure sign that their blood pressure had increased because the Azaperone was wearing off.
This done, we pulled out onto the main road, a convoy of about ten vehicles in total. From here on, we would be on public highways until we reached the game reserve in about an hour’s time. Any problems now would become harder to correct and potentially catastrophic. The change in speed was noticeable and with nothing but the elephant to hold on to, I found myself taking up a fairly undignified position around the trunk and tusks to secure myself, but it did at least free up my hands to monitor his pulse rate and administer the Etorphine when required.