My African Safari

This trip was probably the most impulsive holiday I ever was on. My favourite people told me that they were leaving in a few days on a southern Africa tour and was just wondering if I would like to go with. I couldn’t sleep that night because of excitement and planning on how to get my things organised so that I could go. And before I knew it we were off on an African Safari. That’s what the tourists call it? So I am just following their lingo. But we did not do the funny hats and English accents as in true Safari style.😊

This is not a story about all the animals seen on ‘safari’, that is a bit of a cliche don’t you think? This is more of an attempt to do justice too very memorable experiences on one special trip. This trip will be remembered for many things, animals sightings among them, but mostly for these: Swartpan and torrential downpours at Halali. Those two adventures will forever be talked about and remembered with fondness. After all, ‘mishaps’, for a lack of a better word, make for the best stories.

Kgalagadi Transfrontier Park

This was our first stop. As we drove along the dry river bed towards Nossob, the wind blew the sand and tumbleweeds along the dry bed and for some or other reason I felt that the picture would only have been complete if the theme song from ‘The good, the bad and the ugly’ would have played in the background. My greatness! December in the park is hotter than hot. And dry. We pitch our tents in slow-mo as if the heat has melted us. And then what happened that night? It started raining. I woke up to a wet bed because who would have thought to close the rain flap over the mesh windows of the tent? Lesson one learned. Even in heat and drought, close the rain flap. Or you might wake up at night and suspiciously wonder why your bed is wet.

Our time there was marked by heat and rain. This would set the scene for the rest of our ‘safari’. Furthermore, during our days in the ‘tame’ part of the park, we joked about doing some lion ‘drills’ for when we venture out of the tame and into the ‘wild’ part of the park. We were joking about setting up escape plans and drills and what not and talking big about how brave we were. And then we were off to Swartpan in the Botswana part of the park.

Swartpan

A long day’s drive later we arrived at Swartpan in the ‘wild’ part of the park. There is nothing except nature, the loudest cicadas I have ever heard (they made me feel as if my brain was on vibrate) and 2 taps 2 or 300 meters away from each other. We did some surveying and pitched our camp. First night went without a hitch. No scary animals or the need for drills. There probably were no lions around. We had a good day exploring the area around the pans and having our brains vibrated during the heat of the December day. We were way relaxed at camp.

Then it was time for our bush shower. We had hung our solar shower in a tree above a car mat and, ta-da, a fresh air bathroom under the stars. I was up first and I remember standing there thinking how in the dark, some animal can do a sneak attack and that I will never see it coming. This train of thought fired the hair on the back of my neck and quickly my spa experience came to the end.

I was in my tent creaming and what not when it was the cousins’ turn to clean up when I heard it. Then I heard it again, this time I knew that it was not my imagination making me crazy. I just needed another’s confirmation and called out of the tent to the spa people. Is that what I think it is?

Their quick appearance in the camp and replies confirmed that that was indeed a lion roaring. At that moment the battery of the tablet on which my cousin’s daughter was watching a movie died and she also heard the lion. There we were, worried adults and a very scared little girl. I was tasked with trying to tell her that there was nothing to worry about when I myself needed a bit of reassurance. Not an easy task.

We used the vehicle as a side to our ‘fort’ and the tables and chairs as another. We know that if the lion would have come, that he would just laugh at our attempt at a ‘fort’ and all la-di-da enter our abode from wherever he liked. But this futile attempt did make us feel better.

What did not help was the fact that a hyena had joined the party. It sounded as if he was mocking the lions and the roars became a little more frequent and louder (or maybe it was just my imagination). The fact that one cannot see anything is also disconcerting. We were searching with our spotlight but could not see where the commotion came from.

In the end, we decided to get some sleep. Or at least try. But first, we needed to get the bathroom rituals out of the way. Safety in numbers because no one would dare venture out at night alone. We anyway, were too scared to walk all the way to our designated ‘green doors’  and went as near to the tents as we could without being gross.

And then it was time. Into our tents, we went. No sleep came. Somewhere along the way, it got quiet which was scarier than the roaring. With the roaring, we could approximate where the lions were, in the quiet…… no clue as to their whereabouts. And we knew that they were out there. I lay in my sleeping bag straining to hear anything, footsteps, sniffing, cracking but could only hear the buzzing of silence in my ears. And then we were joking again, this time that we should listen for the infamous ‘shark attack music’. If we are lucky, the music will announce the arrival of the lions.

No music came, but I did hear our night watchman several times checking the area during the night. We were up and packing long before sunrise. We also left a message in a bottle for the next campers about our adventures the night before. ‘The lions are real. Beware!’, or something along those lines.

We were off again and after a short while came across a whole lion clan. Females and cubs, but not the male. He was probably spying on us from nearby.

Further north

From here we left the park and headed north, spending the night at Ghanzi, before leaving for Maun. Here we had our first ‘professional’ meal in almost 2 weeks. I remember eating chicken and wondering if this eatery uses the chickens roosting out front in the parking lot. Probably not the best idea to ask them. So I did not.

We pitched our camp in oppressive humidity and had to face a gauntlet of creepy crawlies to get our teeth brushed and to answer the call of mother nature. The creepies were fly-ies also. The mosquitos were a squadron flying around looking for blood and trying to lift the tents off of us to do so. That squad sounded as if they could have sucked a person dry.

Closer to the Delta

We left Maun to get closer to the Delta. Upon arrival, I saw that this area is very unlike the Africa that I know. It’s not dry and vegetated with Kameeldornings and Wagebietjies, but is what I would call tropical and green.

And monkey inhabited. I have heard that monkeys become nuisances, but have never seen it. Out of nowhere they came. Stole whatever they could. Sweets. Butter. Containers. And before you know it they were up in trees littering. It is not only humans littering, these monkeys were pros. And it is true that they throw you crap. Literally. Our tents and car were covered in @#$. When we saw the monkeys overhead we went for cover. I really did not want to get weird stuff out of my hair.

Animal life here is amazing. It was the first time that I have heard a Fish eagle or the ‘nurk’ of a hippo. My favourite was the aforementioned. You know that hippos are large. You have seen them on nature programs, but boy was I thrilled to see them right there in front of me! We were on a boat in the delta. Me freezing a bit since it started raining again. Searching for those big beauties. As the sun came out and we rounded the corner, there they were. I was speechless about their enormity. Their heads alone are huge. Their little ears twitching and there big nostrils flaring. The hippos were my highlight of the delta.

We did catch a little scare when on appeared out of nowhere beside our boat. Luckily our guide, Salvation, save the day by being super alert. He told us not to be afraid they won’t tip the boat, but can only make holes. That’s no reassurance. Holes =sinking. And there are a lot of teeth going around. Have I mentioned that other than the hippos, there were 100s of crocodiles? One which gave us a scare as well. We were almost touching distance from him when he lunged toward the boat!

But yes, way too many teeth in these waters. So rather steer clear of anything that can make holes in a boat.

Back on land it started raining again. By this time one of the tents was leaking like a rusty tap and we had to fashion a plug from a towel. That at least lessened the dripping that could drive a person crazy.

Tsodilo Hills

Before I leave here, I just wanted to name another extraordinary find. We were at Tsodilo Hills where we saw busman paintings. And we were fascinated by the whale and the penguin paintings. So bushmen from so deep inland had to make it to the ocean and back to paint that. We were so flabbergasted by this that we forgot to take pictures of these, the most interesting paintings.

Leaving Botswana

Time to move on. We had to pack up in the rain and mud and monkey souvenirs. If you have ever been camping, you will know that packing in wetness is not advisable, but what to do? So we did it and drove on to Namibia. We explored Rundu a bit, saw some ruins from the war and set our sights on Angola on the other side of the river. And yes it was still raining. We decided on the ‘professional’ eating thing again. I will forever remember that place for breakfast with flies. Flies everywhere and no one cares.

We turned south and set up our stop-over camp near Grootfontein, still in the rain. The next day we made our way through the most beautiful countryside to the Hobas meteorite en route to Etosha.

Namutoni

Our first camp is at Namutoni. It is warm enough that all the wet stuff can be hung out to dry while we take a drive in search of animals. Back at camp, we found new neighbours. The Wild Dogs. They are some tour group driving around loud and inconsiderate tourists from first world countries. We woke up in the dark to the Wild Dogs making noise that could wake the dead. Hootering and yelling and zipping their tents like crazy. And then it was finally quiet. We thought that they had left considering all the noise before, but were only out on a game drive. The noise was just their way of telling the rest of the camp that they were there and will, and can, do whatever they like being first world citizens and all.

Just as we were finishing braking down camp, ready to leave, the rowdy bunch came back, swarming the campsite like ants. But we were on our way, so good riddance!

Halali

On this sweltering day of December, we were making our way to the Halali camp. We came there at about midday during peak heat. We were just able to pop up one tent and camping chairs before the sweltering heat overcame us. Each melted where they were, unable to do anything in the heat. We later decided that the best course of action will be to buy ice-cream and go in search of rhinos in our air-conditioned haven.

We did eventually find one rhino. Just in time, because minutes after this spotting, it poured rain to such an extent that you couldn’t see maybe more than a metre out. We turned back to camp to go and see if our empty tent needed any saving or out-scooping of water.

The whole campsite was ankle deep under water. Luckily all campsites have concrete slabs about that high and therefore the tent was not also ankle deep in water. When the rain stopped we got out splashed in the water and had something to eat. The sun was shining again but on its way down. Sunset is a good time to be at the waterhole. You should be able to see some animals and get some good sunset pictures. The watering hole is walking distance and we were off, armed with cameras.

Almost there a drop or two fell. Turn around! Came a short order, but before the words were cold, another downpour hit. We ran to a picnic table and sat on the table with our feet on the chairs. We did not want to get a shocking experience. And so the ‘fun’ started. One of us had to go find our chariot while the rest of us waited.

What a crazy experience. We could literally see the water rising. As I saw this, I thought of a song we used to sing at Sunday school about the men building their houses on sand and rock and how the rain came down and the water rose. So that was the song in my head as the water rose. Adding to the experience, I did get to see my sunset. That was weird considering that above us were cloud and rain cover and a few 100 meters to the west there was none.

Adding to that…. Yes, I can add to that. The wind came up. We saw people hanging onto their tents for dear life as the tents came blowing past and a speed no tent should go by. After what felt like an eternity, our 4 wheels came to pick us up. We heard that there was trouble at camp. Because our tent was empty it almost blew away as well. And some shoes and a GPS got flash-flooded away. We made our way back to camp. But it was a challenge to get there in all the confusion. We came to our tent but could not get out. So there we were. In rain and darkness. Super wet, all of us. Listening to Christmas music on the radio while the windows fogged closed and we waited for the rain to stop.

When it finally stopped we moved into action. We took only the essential stuff we would need into the tent and prepared for the 3^rd storm we believed would follow. We sat in the tent dodging carnivorous like moths (where in the world did they come from? Did the rain drive them to the dryness of the camp?). We ate sausage out of a can and made noodles in cups with the morning’s less than warm water. Then we hunkered down and awaited the next wave of the storm that never came.

I could however not sleep. I was badgered by beetles. They were crawling all over me. Only me. The whole night. My clan thought that I was imagining it until with clean-up we found I think 8 beetles in the tent. On my side.

After operation beetle liberation I stepped out of the tent and saw the devastation of the night before. All sites had piles of wet stuff. Wet stuff hanging. Wet stuff bundled up. Some people had to sleep in the bathrooms because their tents blew away, or collapsed or were leaking like crazy. Most people were packing up to leave. I imagine this exodus looked a bit like the one out of Egypt way back when. We were not left behind at the muddied camp but made our way to the Etosha gate. And what do you know?! The sun was shining as if it never hid behind kilolitres of water the day before.

Wlotzkasbaken

From Etosha, we headed Southwest, towards where the desert meets the ocean. Vegetation became scarcer until all you could see was sand and the ‘Brandberg’ in the distance. No sign of rain here. Jip, we were in the desert. The desert which has enchanted me since I can remember. I guess it is not everyone’s cup of tea and must be in your blood. After a very long day’s drive, we finally made it to Wlotzkas and with that our nights of camping like ‘ruffians’ were at an end. Sort of. Although we had beds, we still did not have electricity and had to drive water to the house. But this type of ‘roughing it’ has a charm all of its own. But again, this might not be for all.

Anyway, we spend a few days here. Fishing. Sandcastle-ing. And dodging the icy water of the Atlantic, before circling back home. We had seen everything from dry to soaking. From dry to green. Been hot and freezing. Joked around and almost cried. Packed in and out. And everything in-between. This was one trip for the books. And I guess you must have been there. We, however, did not get any T-shirts.

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