SOUTH AFRICA 2011: JOHANNESBURG & TIMBAVATI

          Sixteen hours, three Dramamine and about four movies later I was ready to be somewhere, anywhere … well, maybe not anywhere, but Johannesburg sounded good (of course, by that time I was probably in desperate need of some of that make-up I had been so quick to leave behind). We were met at the Tambo airport by two lovely Scotsmen, friends of my father’s, who swept us off to a dinner of kudu, springbok and Southafrican wine in Nelson Mandela Square.  Almost immediately we started picking up some terminology that would be important to our trip.  Biltong, for instance, is a jerky very popular in South Africa.  Sundowner (ah, sundowner) is a delightful custom of having a cocktail as one reflects upon the conclusion of the day and the fiery setting sun.  Gautrain is the fast-train that we caught just blocks from our hotel, the Southern Sun, which carried us straight into the Tambo airport the next morning for our flight up to Hoedspruit. Oh, and when at the hotel they tell you to hit blah blah blah “hash” in order to reset the safe in your room, that means the pound sign (an important tidbit if you want to be able to retrieve your passport the next day!).

I seem to recall that the Hoedspruit airport is built on what is or once was a military base.  And yet it is a quaint, welcoming little place, built of wood and angled just so to catch the breeze streaming through its open doors. From the moment you set foot in the building, there is no question as to where in the world you have just landed as even the walls of the ladies’ restroom are covered with maps and photos of South Africa and its wildlife. We were met by Mike who was to drive us in the little mini bus through the gates of the Timbavati reserve and out to the Motswari Lodge. Rory and I had not quite caught up on our sleep or adjusted to the time change. So, as we waited for Dad to arrive from his six-hour trek over from Maputo, we semi-dozed under the fever trees out in front of the airport, enjoying the cool breeze and listening to the men talking. There is such great diversity of people and heritage in South Africa, that people often speak to each other not only in their own languages (like Tsonga or Changana, one of the more prevalent languages in this part of the country), but also in Fanigolo, a pidgin mix of many of the African languages along with English and Afrikaans that was developed by the men who needed to find a way to communicate and work together in the African mines years ago. Anyway, at this point we were just tired and punchy enough that, when one of the guys asked Mike how things were going and he responded, “eh, hakuna matata”, we fell into a fit of giggles.  Just then Dad finally arrived in Micas’s brightly colored little cab (apparently painted with every color of the Mozambican flag: green, yellow, red and black). 
The half hour drive out to the lodge was a breeze. Mike regaled us with tales of growing up nearby, playing soccer with his friends and goofing off as children do worldwide. Now and again he would interrupt his stories to point out some impala or guinea fowl on the side of the road. Once past the Timbavati gate, there are no longer any fences in sight and the animals wander freely from one property to the other.  At one point at the lodge I found a book on the history of the area.  Granted, I did fall asleep shortly after picking it up, but I seem to recall that the story went something like this: in the late 1940s these large tracts of land were owned by wealthy Johannesburg residents who, for the most part, used the area as their private hunting grounds. They began to see a startling decline in the number of game and so decided to join forces, uniting their lands under the protection of one reserve.  A few years ago, the fence between Timbavati and Kruger was dropped so that the animals could have access to still more safe ground across the two parks (by the way, for an interesting first-hand look at the early years of the Kruger National Park, see if you can locate a copy of “Memories of a Game Ranger”, a book by Harry Wolhuter, one of the first rangers in the reserve). More recently, the fence between Kruger and the Limpopo Reserve across the border in Mozambique was taken down and efforts are underway to help the local people in the Limpopo to relocate to agricultural plots outside the park. This has all been fantastic for the animal populations, giving them more safe areas to roam, in search of water, food, mates, greater territory. It is also great for the tourist lodges as they have more animals coming into their areas for their guests to enjoy.

                Motswari is a Tswana word that means “to conserve and protect”.  From the moment we arrived at the lodge and Diference quietly took all of our luggage off to our bungalows as we checked in with Tea at the front desk, I knew that, although we were out smack-dab in the middle of the Southafrican bushveld, this was going to be the luxurious and civilized part of our vacation with Dad. The fifteen bungalows are nicely spaced out, each with its own private patio area and decorated with unique artwork by a local man.  With thatch roofs and cream-colored walls, they blend beautifully into the natural surrounding vegetation and are not separated from the park by any kind of barrier or fencing. This meant that, throughout our stay, we were treated to animals roaming in and around the compound, from hornbills, baboons and vervet monkeys during the day to elephants and leopard at night! June is somewhat of a slow month for most of the area’s game reserves, so it’s a good time to find deals, and the lodges and game drives are not as crowded. Most of the other guests who were there during our stay were Southafrican, from Johannesburg, Pretoria and Durban. I have always found it to be a good sign when local people choose a place. Judging from the size of their cameras (as opposed to my pocket-sized digital camera), they were old hands at the whole wildlife viewing thing. I asked them how Motswari compared to some of the other lodges they had stayed at in Kruger. They told me that, although some of the others may have been fancier (with spa packages and personal butlers running you a bath – not what I was looking for, anyway), this one was reasonably priced and was particularly unique in that it was evident that the employees had all been working there together for a long time- it was like visiting a big family. From Grace (Amazing Grace) who ruled the kitchen, cooking up some scrumptious meals for vegetarians, meat-eaters and the fanatically picky (like me) to enjoy thoroughly, to the serving staff and the housekeepers, everyone was friendly, talkative and helpful.

                We had arrived just in time for lunch out on the veranda that Friday afternoon.  We were treated not only to a delightful meal brought out by five or six singing members of the staff, but also to an unlikely guest – a statuesque giraffe munching on leaves some five hundred yards away on the far side of the dry river bed! A bit later we met Herold, who was to be our eagle-eyed guide for our time there, as well as the young Afrikaner couple that would be sharing the open Land Rover with us: Gerard and his wife who, despite being three months pregnant at the time, put on a good face and fought through the nausea to enjoy her weekend getaway! We soon realized another added benefit to visiting in June- because you are now a couple of months into the dry season, there is less vegetation blocking the view of the animals. Best of all, though (at least for someone like me) is that, due to the cold nights and pleasantly cool days, there are hardly any bugs! Yes!

                Our afternoon game drive lasted a good three to three and a half hours. While it was still light out, we saw many impala (Herold jokingly called them the “McDonalds of the veld” because of the black “M” on their rumps and because they are so numerous), a couple of kudu, some warthogs (extra special since my nieces have nicknamed my father Pumba!), a really cool porcupine.  The coup de grâce was the two young male lions ripping into what was left of their dinner.  When we were growing up with all of our crazy pets, it was engrained in us that we were to absolutely leave them alone when they were eating.  This made it doubly nerve-wracking when we drove, in our open vehicle, within six metres or so of the feeding lions. I felt so vulnerable!  Hearing their great teeth and razor-sharp claws scraping at the sinew and bones of their unfortunate prey was a chilling and primal experience.

                As the sun set on our first full day together in Africa, we stopped on a bluff to enjoy our sundowner and biltong and chat with our new friends. A thick darkness settles in quickly out in the bush, and before we knew it we were heading back to camp under a glittery, star-filled sky.  While we huddled under blankets, Herold drove, answered calls on the car’s radio and swung the spotlight around (I swear he must have sprouted an extra pair of hands at some point that night) pointing out an enormous hippo waddling off as fast as she could away from our vehicle that had disturbed her nightly grazing. Just around the corner from the lodge, Gerard exclaimed, “Olifant!” and, sure enough, out of the dark black-green haze materialized the giant head of a male elephant, ears flapping, just a couple of metres to the right of our car! Astonishing!

                We were met at the entrance to camp by John, the night watchman, who offered us a warm shot of sherry and provided us an armed escort back to our respective bungalows.  Fifteen minutes and a quick freshening up later, John was back to escort us all to the boma (an enclosure with thatch and wood walls and no roof) for another delectable meal. On the way back to our rooms, we heard some crashing around in the camp. John shone his flashlight on the same male elephant we had seen earlier on our drive now in amongst the bungalows doing a bit of landscaping and pruning the trees! He dropped us all safely off at our rooms from which we were not supposed to emerge until the next morning (you could always blow your whistle if you had any kind of emergency or wanted to get to one of the other buildings). The elephant’s tree trimming continued into the night, and Rory and I couldn’t help but peek out of our door a few times to catch a glimpse of this great pachyderm just down the little path from us.

                The next morning we awoke to a gentle knock on our door at 5:30, crawled out from under our warm, plush blankets, and prepared for a new day. Outside, we clambered over the downed trees avoiding the great mounds of elephant droppings and, after a few detours around “un-clamberable” trees, finished our commute to the veranda for morning tea and fruit. By six we were back in the Land Rover for another day of adventure (OK, so maybe it was a wee bit later and we actually got there to find everyone waiting for us, but I place the blame squarely on Rory’s shoulders, as usual!).  The day did not disappoint! As the sun emerged, gently shedding its light and waking the land, we came across the peaceful scene of a pair of giraffes enjoying breakfast with a round, white full moon still high in the sky behind them. 

What we did not know was that Herold and some of the other guides and trackers had been out and about earlier, following the tracks of a young female leopard that had been near camp that night. As we drove along, he and the others in their vehicles continued spotting her tracks here and there and were soon able to vector in on the general area where she was to be found.  Suddenly, a young kudu came crashing out of the bush ahead, racing across the path. This told Herold that the leopard was most likely off in the direction from whence this animal had been frightened. So we veered off the path into the bush to do some crashing about of our own.  They only do this for sightings of “the Big Five” (elephants, Cape buffalo, lions, leopards, and rhinos) as it can obviously impact the vegetation. We had not gone far before Herold spotted her – beautiful, elegant and graceful in every movement of her nimble, spotted body.  She was on the prowl and could have cared less if we were there or not. She barely acknowledged our presence, but did do us all the enormous favor of climbing up a large termite mound (most likely to get a view of what was around her) and sitting, chin up in a proud stance, for a perfect photo op. 

After this early morning excitement, we stopped to enjoy some coffee (hot chocolate in my case) and biscuits, and to watch a herd of zebra and impala lazily making their way across a plain.  Heading back toward the camp that Saturday morning, we also saw a large crocodile out sunning itself on the banks of a murky river, and a great Martial eagle perched on the top of an old tree.  Back at the lodge, we made arrangements with Herold to meet out front at 11:00 for a bushwalk.  At breakfast (we certainly were not going to go hungry at Motswari) we were joined by some curious little vervet monkeys. There was a big tree that hung over the breakfast pavilion and was laden with bright red and purple bougainvillea. It provided both a cool shade and a hiding place for these rascally little monkeys to dash back to after making off with some of the food.

          At 11:00 (again, maybe it was a tad bit after, but that was still Rory’s fault, I’m sure) we sported our neutral-colored clothing (greens, khakis and cream colors not only help you to not attract the heat of the sun, but also the attention of the animals – good idea), a water bottle or two and met up with Herold out front. We walked along seeing the finer details that we often missed as we were roaring along in the car: the little frogs in the ponds and the kingfishers that were keeping a close eye on them, as well as the tracks of many of the larger animals. We learned how to distinguish between hyena, cheetah (although there were none in this area as they prefer the wide open plains where they can pick up speed) and leopard prints depending on how many toe marks there were and whether or not they were accompanied by claw marks. Herold could tell the difference between the lion and leopard prints, even discerning whether it was male or female, and what its approximate size was by the size of the prints. We got to see the wrinkled footprint of the elephant that had graced our camp the night before and even the trail left by the tail of the monitor lizard as it scuttled across the dry, sandy riverbed.  Looping back up the riverbed toward the beacon of the bougainvillea at the lodge, we took in the peaceful serenity of this natural setting. It was not until we stepped up onto the lawn of the veranda that one of the serving staff pointed out that we had just walked past three male elephants that were contentedly munching away at some of the vegetation on the far side of the riverbed!  It amazes me that such large creatures can be so quiet and that their great, grey bulk can blend so well into the surrounding dull greens and pale browns.  
Later, as Rory and Dad napped, I went out and sat, cooling my feet in the swimming pool, and watched as the elephants slowly eased down the bank of the riverbed, eating their way closer and closer to the camp.  It was the most relaxed I had been in months … until the bird shat on my head. Sigh! Oh well, some say this brings good luck.

That evening’s game drive was as good as it gets (maybe the bird shit really was good luck). We saw the big five in one outing! Driving along, we came around a bend and found ourselves right in the middle of a big group of female elephants with their young ones.  A bit later we fell into a big herd of Cape buffalo that didn’t seem to mind us too much and slowly moved off.  Herold and Diference (who was now helping out as our tracker) had heard of a rhino sighting way down the road on another property within the Timbavati. We decided to head off in search of these but, halfway there Diference suggested turning off the track to check on a water hole. Lucky us (again, I wonder about that bird), there were two full grown white rhinos there, making their way down to get a drink. They were quite skittish so we tried to keep our excited squeaks and giggles to a minimum as we admired these fantastic creatures.

Dusk was upon us, so we headed back toward camp, stopping of course for sundowners at a spot along a river to watch the end of the day.  Darkness blanketed the plain as we rolled along to a place some lions had been spotted earlier that day (in fact, we learned later that these lions were perhaps not as familiar with Land Rovers full of people and had actually made a mock charge at one that morning, I’m sure giving some of the visitors quite the scare). Sure enough, when we arrived there was a pride of six or seven lions finishing off what was left of an adult buffalo. We kept our distance, but could see the flash of their eyes in the dark and their great bodies lying in a ring around their kill. Approaching the lodge, Herold decided to do one last check of the little airstrip (it seems just about every camp has one). This definitely paid off for, at the opposite end of the runway he spotted a leopard (the rest of us couldn’t even distinguish a figure, let alone know what it was, but these guides have superb eyesight and knowledge).  Just as we got close, she leapt into the air, front paws outstretched, swiping at some fowl that she narrowly missed with her great claws.  For a moment it felt like I was in the middle of a National Geographic video. What a rush! The athleticism, the grace, she was incredible! We followed her along for a bit before it got too cold and we decided to head back to camp.

Again we were met by John this time with warm shots of apple cider (I could totally get used to this), and again we were provided an armed escort to the boma for dinner. David, the lodge manager, greeted us at the entrance with a hot water bottle for each of us to help keep warm, and we found that a large bonfire had been built in the center of the enclosure.  As we chatted away enjoying yet another decadent meal, a spotted genet snuck in and was on the buffet table before any of us realized it.  Better that than a lion! Later that night, lying in bed reading, I heard the distinct bark of a hyena just off to the west of camp. I fell asleep sure that tomorrow would bring more great things.

          It did. Sunday morning we were again off before dawn, armed with our blankets and hot water bottles.  We spotted some more zebra, giraffe and elephants early on.  A young, lone, male elephant made a mock charge at our vehicle, getting to within five or six metres! He stormed at us trumpeting, flapping his big ears and waving his trunk, but it was on Rory’s side of the Land Rover, so it was OK.  Our morning tea we took on a high bluff overlooking a river. Down below we saw a giraffe enjoying the leaves off one of the trees on the bank, as well as a couple of elephants and a lone buffalo crossing the sandy bed on the far side of the water from us.  In the bush not too far away, the grey loerie or “go-away bird” rang out its warning to all nearby that we were there and should “go away”.  Rory and I took to mocking it, telling each other to “go away” in the nasally call of this bird (silly, I know, but we are easily entertained).

After lunch that day Herold gave a lecture to all the guests on snakes: what species were to be found in this area, what their habits were, which were venomous.  I had read about Mambas and couldn’t decide if it was funny or not when Herold said that if one was bitten by a Mamba, “you should find a place to die nicely”. 

          I was still trying to decide when we headed out for our afternoon game drive around three (it might have again been a bit delayed, but I’m sure that was Rory’s doing – the power of being this trip’s historian is getting to me).  We came across the two male lions from our first afternoon at the park resting near a large group of buffalo. Herold’s theory was that they would be hunting that night, under cover of darkness, when the herd could not tell that there were only two of them. For now, they were saving their energy and barely deigned to raise an eyebrow even when we got within a few feet (this was again on Rory and Dad’s side of the vehicle, so it was OK with me – for those of you who don’t know me well, yes I am being facetious).  We came across another large group of female elephants with their little ones, and one of the mothers treated us to another mock charge (although, oddly enough, it wasn’t as enjoyable when it was on my side of the car).  As darkness fell, we headed toward the area where we had found the pride the night before to see if anyone had shown up late to the party. We stopped first at a nearby ranger station for that evening’s sundowners.

As a side note, I would like to say that I have never been so glad to be traveling around with a pregnant woman. Poor Gerard’s wife kept having to creep off into the bush to pee whenever we stopped.  Herold would check the area first to make sure that it was safe. Then the rest of us kind of said, well, now that you have done that work and we are stopped anyway, we might as well go too. Thank God for her squished bladder! Otherwise I think I would have imbibed far fewer refreshments for fear of having to ask Herold, myself, to go check the bush.  I bring this up now because at the ranger station, Rory actually was the first to head for the bush.  As she squatted down there was a bright flash. It turns out that, on her way around the corner to a particularly thick bush, she walked past a post that was equipped with a motion-sensor camera.  Her movement triggered it and, well, who knows what kind of wildlife the ranger thought he got a shot of in those photos! Unfortunately, it kept getting shots of all of us as we took our turn at the bush (brings up thoughts of the photo reels in the movie “The Hangover”).

          Anyway, we were enjoying our evening cocktail with Rory telling the guys about her life in the US Coast Guard when she was head of operations for the tall ship “Eagle” and they did their loop around Europe.  By now it was quite dark out. Suddenly, Rory stopped and pointed at a large dark figure standing just 15 metres or so from us. Herold glanced over, said, “yes, just a hyena”, and looked back ready for more stories. We all stood a bit closer to Herold and Diference after that.  Back on the Land Rover, we revisited the scene of the previous night’s carnage and found that the lions had gone.  In their stead, there were hyena and jackal scurrying about in the darkness, waiting for their turn at the leftovers.  Even a great big owl was out on the hunt that night.

Our own dinner was again a feast. Being that it was Sunday night, we had lost several guests who had returned to the cities for work the next morning. So, the handful of us who were left had a quiet dinner on the veranda with David and Grant, another spectacular guide, regaling us with tales of the different reserves they had worked on and crazy incidents with honey badgers and hyenas and such.  There are so many fascinating and interesting people to meet all over the world, and when you actually get a chance to get them talking, you see that the world is truly a lively and magical place through their eyes.  There are not too many things that can trump a good story-teller.  Both of my grandfathers were phenomenal storytellers, and I like to think that has taught me to be a better listener.

But I digress. Back in the Timbavati we managed to squeeze in one more game drive the next morning before leaving.  It was a clear, crisp morning, the sky a beautiful blue with a few wispy clouds.  So with Paul Simon’s “Under African Skies” playing in my head (with this many wild animals around, I was glad it had not turned to Orff’s Carmina Burana), we set off for our last excursion. 

The guides had again heard a leopard in camp that night, so we first went to look for her. We found her near the riverbed, across from the lodge. She moseyed on over to us and brushed right past Diference’s feet on the Land Rover!  Of course that’s when my little camera malfunctioned, but the image is forever burned into my memory. We then went to check on our two lions. They had apparently had no success in last night’s hunt and so, with ears pinned back and heads hunched down to shoulder level, they were still slinking around the herd of buffalo, hoping to catch a smaller one off on its own.  They are awesome creatures when they are on the prowl. 

We left them to it and headed off to appease Dad’s wish to see more hippo.  As usual, Herold and Diference came through and found us a group of about 13 hippo, most in the water with their noses and ears up and twitching, but a few out on a little sand island in the middle of the river about 40 metres from us. 

The motto at Motswari is “arrive as a visitor, leave as a friend”.  I like to think that we did. I certainly look forward to visiting again (which is another reason why the three of us made sure to tip well – there are guides online as to how much you should give). We got one final ride from Motswari to Casterbridge Hollow outside of Nelspruit where Micas picked us up for our four-hour trek across the border to Mozambique.  The border crossing itself went smoothly. We showed our US passports, paid for the Mozambique visa and crossed right over.  The most difficult part was using the public bathroom! Our antibacterial hand wipes and roll of toilet paper were finally put to good use. Ah, the rustic part of our journey had begun. Goodbye luxury safari lodge! Thank you South Africa! Hasta pronto! Mozambique, what have you in store for us?