Wandering
the
streets we are fascina
ted
by
the
way history meets
the
hip. Old crooked houses, cobbled streets, and lovely tree-lined canals all contributing to
the
atmosphere.
The canals are a delight, full of ducks and innovative houseboats ranging from restored barges with rooftop gardens and cats peeking from
the
portholes, to sleek purpose-built 'arks' with feature windows and sundecks.
Real estate property taxes here are based on frontage – so most of
the
houses are incredibly tall, deep, and narrow – some not much more than a meter wide! It’s physically impossible to move furniture in through
the
door and up
the
near vertical ladder-like stairs. The solution? Fit a pulley to
the
top of
the
gables, hoist
the
furniture into
the
air, and bring everything in through
the
windows!
Having a membership with
the
International Bro
the
rhood of Dirty Old Men (IBDOM), I talk
Christine
into checking out
the
legendary maze of alleyways that comprise
the
sexy offerings of
the
world famous Red Light District, where
the
world’s oldest profession has been exercised for over five hundred years. An area of special interest for visitors from abroad – or perhaps that should read FOR a-broad!
The area has a magnificent old stone church, a plethora of live porn shows, marijuana ‘coffee shops’, and bountiful sex shops with anatomically correct dildos and graphically depic
ted
sex acts displayed.
Many of
the
street windows are lit up with red fluorescent lights, and each window is equivalent to a studio hotel room, ren
ted
out by prostitutes who provocatively sit or stand in various costumes, lingerie, and states of undress – showing off
the
ir naughty.
As we pass by one of
the
windows, a door flies open. One of
the
hookers clad only in a G-string jumps out in front of me and with her hands imitating claws and she’s growling like a tigress – Yikes, what interesting introduction to A-Dam!
The windows feature every imaginable type of women – something for everyone. Many guys are on
the
prowl looking to ‘shake
the
sheets’, and some quickly negotiate a price,
the
n slink inside to make
the
beast with two backs!
Imagine going window shopping, but instead of for shoes or clo
the
s - for women! I now have a whole new perspective on ‘window shopping’, and can’t help but think of a new version of an old song – “How much is that lady in
the
window –
the
one with
the
waggley tail”.
In A-Dam most people don’t own a car, but ra
the
r opt for a bicycle, or ‘fiet’ as
the
y call
the
m here. Everywhere, folks pump
the
ir way through
the
maze of narrow streets and alleyways, perched atop
the
se heavy old bikes with
the
upright handlebars.
It’s so flat here that most bikes only have just one gear, and lots have an interesting array of box-like modifications used for carrying kids or groceries. There are gazillions of bikes - so numerous that
the
y have
the
ir own lanes and traffic lights.
Today we are renting
the
se Dutchie style bikes. Armed with a map, we peddle along a lovely path beside
the
Amsel
River
, all
the
way out to
the
picturesque old village called Ouderkerk. Green fields with magpies and pheasant, rowers on
the
river, and even a few of
the
original old scenic windmills enhance
the
perfect afternoon.
Most people look very fit, although I can’t believe how many are puffing on
the
old cancer sticks! Speaking of puffing, you can almost get high walking about town, as
the
pungent aroma of pot filters out into
the
streets and tickles
the
nose hairs. Pot seems more readily available here than a quart of milk!
Our walkabout has put us in
the
mood for food, so we stop at an organic market picking up some delicious fresh dates and figs, and a charming chunk of cheese, for our happy hour tonight. This will be accompanied by some tasty rum that we’ve brought along from home.
Turning
the
corner we bump into an unusual sight. A young girl sitting in a chair with her feet in
the
air, and a young man la
the
ring
the
m in peanut butter. I’m told that it’s some silly old Dutch game whereby
the
girl must be carried across town by her friends without touching her feet down. It actually looked like she had stepped somewhere she shouldn’t have – but all seemed to be having a good time with it.
The three days here have quickly past and now it’s time for
the
next leg of our journey. As we carry our backpacks down
the
dark street at 6:00 am to
the
train station, we pass by one of
the
red lights with a hooker sitting in her window. Late night? Early morning? Who knows - but ya just gotta love memorable old A-Dam!
At
the
Amsterdam
airport we have some hassle with our luggage – and
the
security was so tight that I found out I didn’t have prostate cancer! We are put on a standby list, but fortunately make
the
flight to
South Africa
.
Our plane lands in
Johannesburg
late at night, and we learn that
the
car we booked is not available, and must settle for a stick shift. Too late to do anything about it – Grrr!
I have a severe case of
the
Johannesburg
jitters, knowing that it’s
the
second most dangerous city in
the
world after Bogata,
Columbia
(which we visi
ted
24 years ago).
According to police reports, in and around Jo’Berg last year
the
re were 4,216 murders, 7,900 attemp
ted
murders, 12,000 rapes, and 8,884 car jackings (23 a day - every day of year)! Now you can see why we’re nervous!
Leaving
the
semi security of airport we drive off in hoping to make it to our accommodation in one piece. Driving in
the
dark, on
the
opposite side of
the
road, shifting with
the
left hand, accidentally flipping on windshield wipers instead of
the
turn signal, and trying to decipher some unknown road signs Not a real fun time!
Our worst fear is realized. Soon out of
the
airport we are lost! Oh Shit!!! It’s now 11:30 pm – trouble prime time, and senses are on max alert. I’m feeling that we are about as safe as a goldfish in a piranha tank!
Desperately trying to keep
the
airport in sight, we make several botched attempts to find
the
correct road. After what seems an eternity, we find our turnoff and cautiously proceed to
the
guest house. We pull up to
the
high electrified and barbed wire fence and locked gate. After half a dozen or so rings,
the
security guard wakes up and lets us in. Can you hear that big halleluiah?
I ask about
the
safety of drinking
the
tap water. “oh yes, he says, we have
the
third best drinking water in
the
world”. OK, so once inside I have a drink and proceed to brush my teeth. Next morning at breakfast one of
the
white managers tells us to be careful and not drink any tap water, as
the
re has been a Typhoid outbreak in an underground reservoir nearby, and nine locals have already died from it!
Early a.m. we’re off on a long nerve-testing journey across
the
country. One thing we immediately notice about
the
driving in SA is
the
speed. We’re doing
the
speed limit of 120, but drivers are shooting past us in
the
ir metal missiles as if we were parked.
Cars race up behind you and flash lights to pass – oh great, a nation of flashers! Seemingly certain death is faced and somehow magically avoided every few minutes. I’m convinced
the
se nutters must all eat an extra bowl of stupid each morning!
We race toward
Swaziland
in hopes of getting
the
re before
the
border closed. Yes,
the
country of
Swaziland
actually closes for
the
evening. T’was a bit intense - maneuvering along
the
skinny two lane roads, dodging on-coming lumber trucks, taxi vehicles, pedestrians, goats, and
the
kamikaze cattle – but we’ve made it.
At
the
Oshoek border crossing we show our passports and appropriate documents for
the
car, and after paying some ‘taxes’,
the
uniforms let us pass. We have just entered
the
Kingdom
of
Swaziland
,
the
smallest country in
Africa
, land-locked between Mozambique & South Africa.
The numbers in this country are tragic - 40% unemployment rate, 80% illiteracy rate, a staggering 40 % of
the
population is HIV infec
ted
(highest in
the
world), 70% of
the
country’s one-million population live on an average daily income of $1 or less, and 1/3 of
the
people need food aid for survival.
The Kingdom is run by King Mswati III who was recently vo
ted
as one of
the
ten worse dictators in
the
world. While his people are starving, this wacko enjoys a ludicrously lavish lifestyle, including buying private jets, and high end Mercedes for all his wives.
He’s often subject to sweeping criticism for his support and practice of polygamy, and
the
fact that he chooses a virgin teenage bride to marry each year at
the
Reed
Dan
ce. Last month this event was held, and more than 50,000 bare-breas
ted
virgins vied to become
the
King 13th wife. This event is held so
the
dickhead can pick up ano
the
r little coco goddess. Obviously he’s into screwing more than just
the
country!
Despite it’s sad state,
the
Swazi’s seem quite laid back and friendly. Few foreign visitors travel to this intriguing country, and our white skin stands out like a flamingo in a coal mine.
People we pass would never wave or say hello unless we did so first, as apparently it would be a sign of disrespect. We always make
the
effort, and inevitably are rewarded with a positive reaction, and
the
harsh looking black faces would often suddenly acquire some dazzling 1000 watt smiles.
As part of our fly-by-
the
-seat-of-our-pants approach to traveling, we have nothing booked, and now have to find a place to lay our heads for
the
night. We had heard of a little place in Malkerns called Malandela’s which turns out to be just
the
ticket. A lovely spot run by a white family, on
the
edge of a sugar can plantation and boasting a terrific restaurant. A great place to rest up for our adventurous day tomorrow.
After checking in and dumping our bags, we head out to book our land rover game drive for tomorrow. We are informed that we are extremely lucky, as
the
y have only 5 vehicles, and tomorrow ours is
the
only one going out. Even better, we are going to be
the
only ones in it. Perfect, a private safari!
Outside
the
office we spot our first warthog, a comical looking boar-like creature that looks like it’s made up of odd bits and pieces. Known as
the
naked swine of
the
savanna,
the
y get
the
ir name from
the
large warts found on
the
ir head. We watch it snuffle about with it’s front knees on
the
ground. Apparently this makes dining a little easier, as it’s difficult for
the
neck muscles to support such a huge head.
Nearby we also spot a few ostrich and one struts toward us with its wings open and starts scratching about in
the
dirt. We decided to name him Patrick – yep, Patrick Swazi
the
Dirty
Dan
cer! Back to crash for
the
night.
Today, we are on our way to Mkhaya, where we’ve booked
the
land rover safari. The drive out is an interesting challenge with cattle strewn roads, and potholes
the
size of sheep! Slowly but surely, with tires a-thump, we find our last turn off at
the
village
of
Hhelehhele
(yup, that’s how it’s spelt), and make our way to
the
camp.
We first must sign some indemnity forms absolving
the
m from any responsibility for injury or death (I wonder if
the
re is something
the
y are not telling us), Then are introduced to a Swazi tracker named Siprakeen, who is to be our guide.
With some reservations, we jump into a decrepit 4x4 vehicle, which appears to be approximately
the
same vintage as Fred Flintstone! No roof, no door handles or panels, odd bits wired toge
the
r, half
the
dashboard missing, and wind shield wipers – but no windshield! Oh well, at least
the
re won’t be anything to impede our view!
Out on
the
dusty dirt tracks we first spot
the
usual suspects – wildebeest, antelope, zebra, etc. Then our driver, with his ‘bush eyes’ spots an amazing sight. A rare black rhino and a huge Cape buffalo standing close toge
the
r in what appears to be some sort of stare down!
Apparently black rhinos are solitary animals, and old buffalos get banished from
the
rest of
the
ir herd. These two loners have found each o
the
r in
the
bush – perhaps each seeking a little companionship.
As we watch,
the
two seemingly love-struck beasts get closer and closer to each o
the
r, and finally actually end up touching noses. The rhino gives a mighty shove knocking
the
buffalo backwards, but
the
n
the
y hook up again (foreplay?). What a sight – even our guide is impressed, never having seen
the
likes of this before. What a great start to our day!
Siprakeen
the
n spots elephants, and proceeds hi
the
r and yon through some rough terrain. It’s so rugged that we apply a death grip to
the
vehicle, to minimize
the
chances of getting thrown right out of our frontier-era seats.
We are awed to
the
tenth power, as we suddenly find ourselves nose to tusk with a herd of African elephants. Our vehicle is easily dwarfed, as we are within 2 to 3 meters of
the
se “Gods of Girth’. This, I can assure you, is quite high on
the
scareometer!
Our engine is switched off to help keep
the
m calm – but we are nervous about getting out of
the
re in a hurry should
the
‘Ellys’ as
the
y are called here, get angry.
Nervously, we watch
the
se voracious feeders breaking off thorn tree branches and stuffing
the
needle sharp twigs into
the
ir mouths. As
the
y are busy munching,
the
trunk is already back in
the
tree ripping off
the
next piece. They seem to be naturals at multi-tusking.
They are keeping an eye on at us, but don’t seem overly concerned – thank goodness! Eventually
the
portly pachyderms wander off in search of fresh food, and we are somewhat relieved to see
the
ir wrinkled rumps putting distance between us!
To be with
the
se awesome creatures in
the
wild, so close that you can hear
the
m brea
the
, makes a most memorable impression. Sorry, I’ve rambled on a bit but as you can probably guess I'm still on a high from seeing
the
animals that close.
Continuing our drive, our 4 wheeled contraption rattles and thumps over
the
parched ground, before coming to a stop when we notice a herd of cape buffalo. We proceed ever so slowly up to towards
the
m. Waves of adrenalin tinged with fear begin pumping. Cape buffalo have horns that perfectly mimic a flip-style 60’s hairdo and look docile, but
the
y are dangerous and unpredictable, and have been known to kill both humans and lions.
We are so close we can clearly watch
the
little Oxticker birds hoping about on
the
ir faces. As
the
buffalo’s jaw slides side to side munching grass,
the
se little birds actually crawl in
the
animals ears, nostrils and even mouths to pick off tics – amazing.
What is making
the
day so special is that we are alone with nature. We have
the
entire area to ourselves, and can spend as little or as much time as we want at our sightings. The world is bliss.
Around noon we stop for a picnic lunch provided for us at a rugged place called Stone Camp. Our arrival is promptly announced by a flock of alarmed blue cres
ted
guinea fowl, desperately flapping
the
ir escape.
There is a solo table for two set up in front of a dried river bed, and great aromas waft towards us from wildebeest sausages cooking over an open fire. As we munch lunch, impalas wander about around us. These lovely and bountiful little creatures seem to be
the
predators snack food.
Back in
the
vehicle we continue our game of ‘I Spy’, and our eagle eyed tracker next spots a giraffe. We are thrilled to see it, but it’s not quite close enough for a good picture. Siprakeen says to me “you want closer?” Sure, I tell him figuring he will drive
the
vehicle a bit closer. “OK, follow me” he says, and jumps outside
the
vehicle (since none of
the
doors open).
Christine
and I put our faith in him and climb down, following him quietly into
the
bush. At this point we are at least 50 meters from
the
vehicle stalking towards
the
towering giraffe, when all of a sudden Sip thrusts up a hand and says STOP!
We hear a branch snap, and with blood pumpin’, heart thumpin’ and knees abumpin’ we turn our heads and find ourselves face-to-face with two tons of raw menace – a mo
the
r rhinoceros and her calf!
We are only about 20 feet apart, and I assume
the
y are less than pleased with our trespass. I look over at
Christine
who is staring with big brown ‘omigosh’ eyes, and her eyebrows raised to previously unknown heights. She wants to run back to
the
car but Sip tells her no!
I am armed with only a journal. Oh yes, and a ballpoint pen. It's just that, well, apparently
the
se ‘hornery-looking’ bad tempered giants have yet to familiarize
the
mselves with
the
intimidating power of small, hand-held writing instruments.
Sip tells us to VERY slowly back up towards
the
vehicle, and not make any sudden movements (I suppose he means o
the
r than our involuntary knee knocking)! We are almost back, when nature’s armored tanks start to slowly lumber towards us. Perhaps
the
y think our battered transport is some long lost relative!
It’s amazing how fast you can get in a vehicle with no doors if you have
the
right motivation! Gentlemen, start your engines!!
Man, our deodorant got a serious workout today! We have now had
the
true, heart-in-
the
-throat, sweaty-palms, hoping-that-I-don't-die safari experience. Whew!
Heading back to camp we are abuzz about our incredible experiences of
the
day. Finally, we bid a fond farewell to our tracker Sipraken, and start our 80 km drive back to where we are staying.
Now that we’re out of
the
bush, I have
the
sudden urge to bang back a bevy of barleys, so we make a pit stop.
Christine
locks herself in
the
car, and I wander into a food store for some beers – but
the
owner informs me that he doesn’t sell any.
A dreadlocked local standing nearby overhears my request, and says “You want beer – I help”. The o
the
r guy in
the
store says “you go with him”. So, I follow him around behind
the
store and down a dirt path to a shack. The door opens and
the
re are two o
the
rs inside and I can see a big iron pad locked door. “Come in” he says, but I’m somewhat concerned that this might be a set up to be robbed.
I consider my options before deciding that it’s probably OK – and after all I AM thirsty. When I enter a lady opens up
the
big locked door. I can see on
the
dirt floor is a small mattress and a fridge. She opens
the
fridge and to my delight pulls out three big liter bottles of cold beer!
Barleys in hand, I get back into
the
car and relate
the
story to
Christine
who gives me hell for disappearing out of sight. But relieved, she soon joins me in a good chuckle.
I get
the
story later that it’s illegal for most stores to sell beer, and that what I have visi
ted
is called a Shenee – a place that’s hidden from
the
sleazy police, where one can purchase bootlegged booze. An interesting experience.
Back at Malandela’s we enjoy a happy hour, and
the
n pop over to
the
restaurant for a delicious dinner. A couple of glasses of vino, an appy of Brie with black cherry, and a main course of chicken camembert - savored in front of
the
mammoth roaring fire. Mmmmmm – ano
the
r melt in you mouth moment!
I propose a toast to what I felt just might be
the
most incredible day of our lives.
Christine
agrees, but
the
n, politically correct little gem that she is, adds – “except of course my darling, for
the
day I married you!” Ahhhhhh,
the
re are days when I love dat woman!!!
We awake to melodious birds achirp and a few croakomaniac frogs in
the
cane fields nearby! For
the
first time in months, it rained last night, and this is a good thing. The thirsty ground in this parched country needs it desperately so
the
farmers can plant
the
ir crops.
During
the
previous day, and sometimes at night, I have been hearing a large grunting pig. When I asked
the
staff in
the
morning, I draw blank stares. They clearly don’t understand
the
word pig. So with a background in charades, and
the
prop of some bacon out of
the
fridge, I get that part straightened out – only to be told
the
y don’t have a pigs on
the
premises.
Again
the
next day I hear
the
pig – damn, it starting to drive me crazy. Finally just before we leave I find my pig – turns out it’s
the
nothing more than
the
rumble strips on
the
road just outside our cottage! When I embarrassingly confess this to
the
staff
the
y enjoy a great laugh at my expense. To my chagrin,
Christine
is constantly reminding me about my ‘road pig’!
Today we visit a
Swazi
Cultural
Village
which is kind of interesting. It features
the
old beehive style huts, and we had a good tour of
the
place, and
the
old customs are explained. We enjoy some Swazi dancing, but depart soon after we are swamped with a herd of little ankle-biters on
the
mooch.
Our time in
Swaziland
passed very quickly and we’re now headed towards
the
SA border at Jeppes Reef. The wea
the
r is foggy, raining, and cold as Hell as we ascend higher and higher on
the
cattle studded mountain road.
Passing some little roadside table stalls we stop for a look at some soapstone carvings. Coming out of a mud and stone hut is a guy with
the
most gnarly old hands I’ve ever seen – obviously he’s been carving a very long time.
Before we know it, we find ourselves see-sawing our way closer to a final agreeable figure on not just one – but three of his carvings! With everybody happy, we take
the
opportunity to warm our hands over his wood burning fire before continuing on to
the
border.
We make a final stop to give out a supply of pencils to some little school kids – and
the
y were a big hit! Finally we arrive at
the
border, thrilled to have avoided
the
corrupt police, that apparently like to prey on any visitors, and fleece
the
m for what ever
the
y can get.
A quick passport check and we cross over into
South Africa
, and head towards our next destination of Komatipoort, a town which marks
the
border between
South Africa
and
Mozambique
. We find a little B & B called Trees Too, a delightful place to rest for
the
night, and buy supplies for our 4 day sojourn into
the
Kruger
Park
.
After checking in we drive out to
the
Lower
Sabie
River
and have a look at our first hippo. While
the
se blubberites may look docile and in need of a serious consult with Jenny Craig,
the
y occasionally are known to go psycho. Every year hippos kill more humans than any o
the
r animal in
Africa
. The male can weigh up to 7000 pounds, and can outrun humans on land. Man…that’s a lot of hostile cellulite!!
After a belly-bulging breakfast we are ready to explore
the
Kruger. We sla
the
r on
the
Mozzie repellent because
the
park is a malarial danger area. Malaria is
the
“silent tsunami” in
Africa
that takes more than 1.5 million lives per year, which means 3 lives per minute are lost from
the
dreaded mosquito!
The
Kruger
National Park
is a humongous chunk of turf that’s approximately five million acres with an amazing assortment of animals. We pass by a river full of hippos and crocs
the
n notice a herd of wildebeest and zebra. A short time later we stop to watch a towering giraffe - but no getting out of
the
car this time! It’s a dog-eat-dog world here – and we are
the
ones wearing
the
Milk Bone underwear!
The lovely stratospheric giraffe are such a pleasure to watch, and one of our favorites. It’s fascinating to watch
the
m move, with
the
ir awkward elegance yet modelesque manner. I think some of top models must have had giraffe training.
A mind-boggling fact concerns
the
acacia tree which
the
giraffe feeds on. The damaged leaves actually release a chemical into
the
air to “warn”
the
ir green friends, which
the
n create a yucky taste to discourage
the
herbivore. Now
the
giraffe is not stupid ei
the
r, and it actually eats in a certain wind direction, so that
the
smell is not carried to
the
o
the
r trees in its eating path. Amazing.
We pass by a group of ra
the
r large baboons, but when we stop to watch
the
se simians seem to take an interest in
the
car. Up goes
the
windows, as we don’t want
the
m to going “ape-shit” inside our rental vehicle!
As we are headed back to our camp for
the
night we stop for a herd of Elleys.
Christine
has a panic attack as one of
the
large bulls comes aggressively towards us. With
the
car in gear and my foot on
the
clutch, I manage a couple of shots before giving a wide berth to his wide girth. Was I scared - Abso-damn-lutely. Quite
the
conclusion to our first day in
the
Kruger!
Back at camp where we are sequestered away behind large electronic fences which keep
the
animals out and us in. Kinda like a zoo – but we are
the
ones in
the
cage! Our hut doesn’t have a shower – just hot and cold taps. So
the
drill is to kind of splash yourself, soap up,
the
n wash off by playing contortionist, getting as many body parts as possible under
the
tap.
At dinner we don’t feel like cooking, so we mosey over to
the
only o
the
r place to eat in
the
camp. This makeshift restaurant is simply tables placed on
the
platform of an old railway station, with
the
abandoned train still in it.
I try and order a hamburger but our African waiter, a character named ‘Doctor’, won’t hear of it, telling me “Man must have rump” (referring to a rump steak on
the
menu). I can’t help but chuckle.
Now don’t get me wrong – I indeed am a “rump man”, but most African women carry
the
most copious and colossal cabooses I’ve ever seen. Ooops, my discussions with
the
waiter have me getting behind in
the
conversation – sad butt true!
Today, wanting to make
the
most of our pilgrimage, we rouse ourselves at 4:30 am and are zooming out of camp by 5:30am. I pass
the
only two cars that were ahead of us, and it pays off about 5 minutes later, as our car is
the
first to approach two large male lions swaggering down
the
road.
Lions do all of
the
ir grocery shopping at night, and
the
se big bellied bad boys are probably headed home to crash for
the
day. Ano
the
r very adrenalinic meeting, especially when we pull up beside
the
m and take some pictures with
the
window down. Very cool to shoot a lion, and watch him walk away.
Taking all
the
back roads we can find sorta feels a bit like
Jurassic
Park
- driving down dirt roads though scrub forest gazing intently into
the
underbrush, waiting for something to happen, and
the
n I'd look in
the
rear view mirror to find I was being tailga
ted
by a herd of giraffe.
The wea
the
r is terrific and we’re enjoying a robins-egg blue sky and a canary yellow sun. Fortunately our car has air-con, because
the
temperature is griddle-hot. Probably need a sunscreen of about 1,000 here! But,
the
heat is neat – because with no rain, we are not plagued with mosquitoes – and about that we are thrilled!
Driving past one of
the
rivers we notice a few crocs on
the
muddy banks, so we stopped to watch
the
future handbags and shoes
lou
nging about in
the
sun. As we continue our sentinel, several o
the
r animals coming for a drink, all managing to stay clear of toothy carnivorous critters.
Back at camp, we discuss
the
day’s adventures whilst getting blissfully buzzed on a few sundowners, which have become a bit of a habitual ritual here in
the
bush. We
the
n decide to cook up some dinner ourselves, since
the
food in
the
se camps is about as appealing as a three finger prostate exam!
After catching up in my journal, I scatter some bread crumbs on
the
ground, and to my delight it attracts quite
the
array of fancy fea
the
red friends. My favorite of which happens to be
the
yellow-billed hornbill, which kinda looks like a flying banana!
Tonight we are off on a sunset safari. Although I certainly don’t relish
the
idea of being grouped with a bunch of o
the
r people, it’s
the
only way into
the
park after dark as regular vehicles are simply not permit
ted
. After dark
the
bush is a much more unfriendly place – and it’s just not that friendly to start with!
As our vehicle heads out we pass by a long dead tree, gnarled and twis
ted
, and filled with vultures silhouet
ted
black against a fuchsia sky - a timeless picture of
Africa
.
As
the
sun is setting our first big sighting is a very large herd of Ellys.
O
the
r in
the
truck are oooing and ahhing, but this is getting to be old hand for us. One interesting thing was that all of a sudden one of
the
bulls trumpe
ted
and
the
herd quickly surrounded
the
2 baby elephants for protection. The ranger said this happens when
the
y catch
the
scent of danger. Hmmm.. perhaps
the
y got a whiff of my socks!
During
the
course of
the
three hours we are extremely fortunate in spotting all
the
so-called Big 5 (lion, leopard, cape buffalo, elephant and rhino) They are named because
the
y are
the
five most dangerous animals to encounter on foot. The best for us was without question
the
rare sighting of a leopard up a tree. What incredible animals
the
y are. Quite
the
night!
This morning we are again Kruger cruisin’ – this time from Satara camp north to Oliphants. This section is one of
the
best viewing areas in
the
park, and sometimes called
the
‘killing fields’ because of
the
carnage by
the
big cats. Along
the
way we’re delayed by a living road block of cape buffalo are who are standing across
the
road. These cantankerous critters don’t want to move for us, but ra
the
r look as if
the
y’re daring us to come closer. This is a no brainer – we decide to wait
the
m out!
Driving along one of
the
dirt side roads we suddenly come upon a stunning sight. The law of
the
jungle has prevailed, and right beside us just off
the
road, we spot a big male lion with a recent cape buffalo kill. We can’t believe our good luck, and slowly approach in our car to within about 10 meters of this magnificent beast.
Nearby we notice a beautifully coa
ted
jackal on
the
scour, while a large hawk circles overhead. Our window is down and we have a perfect viewing opportunity of
the
slaughterous sight. The complete under belly is torn open leaving a cavernous cadaver, and
the
powerful predator is laying beside his kill, resting his head upon it like a pillow. What a photo opportunity.
Suddenly,
the
big cat turns, and stares directly at us with his humongous yellow eyes, and long strands of drool dripping off his jaw. Being so close, I cannot adequately describe that intense feeling – but believe me, it’s enough to curdle your girdle!! We are SO glad he’s already eaten, and just hoping he’s not considering desert!
We are truly mesmerized by this incredible encounter, and spend almost two hours
the
re before continuing on our way. There are numerous interesting sightings in
the
afternoon, but all pale in comparison to our close encounter with
the
king of beasts.
Leaving Oliphants camp this morning, we are headed out of Kruger, feeling like successful big game hunters – of
the
point-and-click variety. We’ve been very fortunate to have enjoyed so many awesome wildlife sightings that have left euphoric memories that will last our lifetime.
After a final car inspection and paperwork check we exit out of
the
park into an area which is a bit of a mouthful called
Mpumalanga
- meaning “
the
place where
the
sun rises.”
We drive
the
Panoramic route through
the
mountains because it’s known for it’s scenery. Kind of nice to be rid of
the
confinement aspect of
the
park, and actually be able to get out of
the
car for a stretch when we want, and we make a couple of stops to admire
the
views.
Finally we decide to stop, and find a lovely little B & B called SerINNdipity in
the
funky little town of
Sabie
, where we plan to spend
the
next 2 days, resting up from
the
tiresome driving of
the
past week.
Today we’ve op
ted
to rent mountain bikes for a ride up into
the
mountains for a look at some waterfalls. This option was chosen over going for a run when
the
B & B owner cautions us that
the
area we had planned for a run is well known black mamba territory. This information made our biking decision quite easy!
The wea
the
r is brutally hot and we stupidly don’t take along any water. Peddling along
the
trail we are soon scolded by a raucous group of monkeys that we have apparently startled. The path soon opens up, and we find ourselves on a dusty dirt road, and with no shade,
the
blast furnace sun starts taking a toll.
Higher and higher we peddle until till
the
road ends and we find ourselves on a rock strewn path, but having come this far, we decide to carry on. It soon becomes impossible to ride, and we are forced to resort to dragging and carrying
the
heavy bikes up
the
steep terrain.
Less than a hundred feet from
the
waterfall, dehydration catches up with
Christine
big time - causing her to faint. She falls onto
the
rocks hurting her leg and doing a face plant into
the
dusty trail. Bloody lucky she was, given
the
large rocks strewn about! After a long rest, she toughs it out, and we manage to get back and find ourselves some much needed water. Enough exercise for
the
day!
At funky dinner location I order myself a steak with monkey gland sauce (seemed like a good idea at
the
time). Once I’d doused
the
inferno with two glasses of beer, and wiped
the
tears from my eyes, I decided to approach all African food with a whole new level of caution!
A pleasant two day stay and we are on
the
road again. Along
the
way we encounter intense fog offering near zero visibility. This made for a white knuckle drive since we are in
the
steepest parts of
the
canyon, desperately trying to stay on
the
road – as we climb through places like Misty, Mountain, The Staircase, and The Devils’ Knuckles.
Finally we come out of
the
fog and continue into a town called Lydenberg, where we somehow manage to get ourselves lost. We end up outside of town in a poverty stricken township, and are most concerned about safety. I roll
the
window part way down to ask for directions, and a nasty one eyed woman just points a finger and says “you, go back to town”. Not wanting to linger longer we make a hasty retreat, trying to backtrack our way into town.
Once on
the
right track, we continue to glitzy little touristy town called Dullstroom but don’t like it, and decide to try for
the
next town. Arrive in a forgettable little mining town called
Belfast
where we decide to overnight, being too tired to drive any far
the
r. It’s a bit of a struggle, but we eventually find a place to stay for
the
night.
This little town is so depressed it doesn’t even have a restaurant where you can go for dinner. So before unenthusiastically cooking something up ourselves, it’s time for sundowners. One leads to ano
the
r (well,
the
re wasn’t much else to do
the
re) and all of a sudden we have finished off
the
rum. Imagine that, getting bombed in
Belfast
– whodathunkit !
The power goes out, apparently a common occurrence, and
the
fog has rolled in. We really missing our fleece jackets which we accidentally left behind in
Johannesburg
. Our room is as cold as a penguins ass, and looking forward to getting outa here.
Today, we make
the
long drive to
Pretoria
, passing many shantytowns of dilapida
ted
corruga
ted
tin shacks. Driving through
the
se areas is certainly fatal to boredom, with
the
pos
ted
signs on
the
highway reading, “
Dan
ger Hi Jacking Hot Spot!” Needless to say, we decided not to picnic in
the
area!
We arrive in
Pretoria
, which is also called ‘
Jacaranda
City
’ because of
the
70,000 jacaranda trees that burst into bloom creating wonderful splashes of purple and lilac every October. Our timing has been perfect and
the
trees are just gorgeous. We’re staying at a friends here staying for
the
next couple of days. It is a lovely old place built in
the
30’s with spectacular gardens.
Keen for ano
the
r animal fix, we visit a wildlife reserve about an hour out of town, where we have actually had
the
opportunity to go into a cage with a tiger and lions cubs. Lots of people were taking pictures from outside
the
cage, but I in. So after signing an indemnity form and paying a token fee I’m allowed inside
the
cage.
These cute not so little guys were only 5 to 7 months old, and it was an absolute thrill to have
the
opportunity to actually pet and wrestle about with
the
m. Ano
the
r huge rush was being licked by a gorgeous Bengal tiger cub. I found out just how strong and quick
the
y are, as one of
the
lion cubs claws drew blood from my hand. Mauled by a lion in
Africa
– I love it!
This reserve also features quite a variety of o
the
r wildlife which is interesting, but clearly, we have been spoiled by previous wild encounters. Seeing
the
se incredible creatures in confinement is interesting but slightly demoralizing, kind of like seeing a
Bob
Dylan concert in 2005 as opposed to one in 1975 - equal parts exciting and pa
the
tic.
After leaving
Pretoria
we drove back in
Johannesburg
where our
Africa
adventure all began. Miracu
lou
sly we manage to return
the
rental car unsca
the
d, and I feel great relief to no longer have
the
pressures of driving this bass-ackward contraption!
We are picked up by Wiggy, a friend who we are staying with for
the
night. On
the
way back to his place he takes us past
the
sprawling
township
of
Soweto
, a baffling proliferation of shacks that looks like some very undesirable real estate! Next we are shocked to learn that he is headed into
the
bowls of
Johannesburg
!
Trust me when I say that this is one very scary place. The windows are up, and
Christine
and I are praying that we don’t get a flat tire or have some o
the
r disaster happen – as this is not
the
place you want to be outside
the
safety of a vehicle. Very interesting to see, but not something we’d ever be bursting with vigor to do again!
This is our last night before flying to Capetown and we’ve op
ted
for an interesting dining experience at a place appropriately called The Carnivore, loca
ted
out of town overlooking
the
Krugersdorp hills.
The central attraction of
the
restaurant is a massive circular open fire with 52 conver
ted
Masaai tribal spears roasting a variety of exotic meats. Carvers come from
the
fire with
the
swords holding
the
meat, and carve
the
cuts of your choice directly onto your plate.
Truly a wild place, and we had
the
opportunity to savor
the
flavor of many gastronomically adventurous items including ostrich, kudu, wart hog, crocodile, and zebra. It's a case of eat as much as you can, with each table having a white flag that is lowered to indicate that you surrender when you have had your fill. A wonderful evening, and truly a beast of a feast!
Our flight to Capetown is
the
low-cost, high-humour Kulula Airlines - known for
the
ir humourous in-flight announcements. The friendly staff are all dressed in jeans and here is a sample of
the
announcements we got on
the
plane:
“Welcome Kulula fans, and a special welcome to all our brand new super heroes. Here at Kulula we pride ourselves on having
the
best crew in
the
industry, unfortunately due to staffing problems..…”
"In case of an emergency, masks will drop from
the
panel above. Once you have stopped screaming, put
the
mask over your nose and mouth and for Gods sake, brea
the
baby brea
the
! Then put masks on to any children that you are traveling with. If you have two children, decide which one you love most now."
“For those of you who can’t swim, please move to
the
right side of
the
plane. To
the
rest of you thanks for flying with us.”
“Portable electronics with a transmit function may not be used during
the
flight as
the
y may interfere with
the
aircraft’s systems and I don’t know about you Kulula fans, but I don’t want to land in Zimbabwe”.
“Smoking is forbidden, including in
the
toilets which are fit
ted
with smoke detectors and cameras for our in-flight entertainment”.
It is
the
first time I have ever heard a round of applause for a safety demo. Fantastic. The landing was a signal for more hilarious announcement, again I’ve tried to remember as much as I can.
“Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to
Zimbabwe
”.
“When you leave
the
aircraft please take all your personal belongings with you except for
the
expensive stuff – cameras, laptops, etc. which will be divided up among
the
crew, although this doesn’t apply to children –
the
y will be sold as slaves”.
“Please keep your seatbelt fastened until we come to a stop at
the
gate...as shift happens”.
“We’ve sure enjoyed taking you for a ride today, and remember Kulula fans, nobody wants your money more than kulula.com”.
How nice to have an airline thinking outside
the
box. I think everyone on board very much enjoyed
the
airlines sense of humour.
During our four day stay in scenic Cape town we spent time walking on
the
fine white beaches, visiting
the
vineyards of Stellenbosh, Kirstenbosch gardens, driving
the
coastal routes to places like Chapman’s Peak, B
lou
berg, Kalk Bay, and taking
the
cable car up to
the
top of Table Mountain.
One day we decided to ride
the
controversial coastal train to
the
end of
the
line to an old naval hamlet of Simonstown. This train is definitely not for
the
faint of heart. There have been so many mugging problems,
the
re are now numerous security guards stationed at all
the
stops along
the
way.
The train looks rough, covered in graffiti both inside and out, but we decide to leave most of our valuables at home and give it a go. We purchase our tickets, but quickly start to wonder about our decision as we notice that prin
ted
on
the
bottom of all
the
tickets is an advertisement for funeral arrangements!!!
The ride to
the
end of
the
line is uneventful – but
the
ride back could have been a disaster. After exploring Simonstown, we reboard
the
train but after a few stops decide to get off and walk
the
lovely beaches.
Several hours later while boarding
the
train, we are followed on by three ra
the
r nasty looking characters. Moments before
the
train pulls out, two burly security guards step up into our train car, and
the
thugs quickly get up and run out
the
back door of
the
car.
This is
the
first time we have seen security actually on
the
train, so we suspect that
the
y sensed we were being followed by those with bad intentions. The guards stayed on
the
train with us right up to our destination. We sincerely thanked, relieved that again, we had been very lucky.
On our last day we make
the
long drive to a place called Betty’s Bay which is kind of in
the
middle of nowhere. Why – but to see
the
penguins of course. Penguins in
Africa
? Now I suspect that you probably think I’ve been into
the
rum again, right?
Actually, this area is home to hundreds of Jackass penguins that waddle about seemingly with no fear of humans. The unfortunate handle
the
se adorable little tuxedoed critters have, comes from
the
tendency of
the
male to bray like a donkey when he wants to get laid. Uncanny how similar
the
y sound to a Jackass, and we can’t help but chuckle each time we hear it!
This concludes our memorable travels in adorable, deplorable, and explorable old
Africa
. And now, secure in
the
knowledge that our adrenal glands are fully functional, we are returning to our tamer Canadian turf, where we recoup and
the
n ponder, pick, and plan next years adventure.
Mark Colegrave
October 2005
