.
A warning to everyone, this post will most likely turn out to be
a mere run down of events, nothing to pretty or descriptive.
We spent 3 days in Plett, spending our time walking on the beach,
canoeing over to the other side of the lagoon, visiting market day at “old nicks
art village”, window-shopping in town, watching whales over the bay and taking a
day trip to robberg, where we do a quick hike around the peninsular and head
back into town for our last supper at the “Rod and Weel”, famous for its fish
menus.
We head down the garden route and stop of at
wilderness and mosselbay for me to show my family the backpackers we stayed at
when I was here a year ago. We get chatting to the owners and staff members,
watch koi fish in the pond and play with the hostels cats. After a short stop of
at George to visit Diannes Father, we head inland to where her brother mikle has
a little house in a nature reserve in the Klein Karoo. We are greeted warmly and
instantly feel at home with him and settle in for the evening. The next morning
we celebrate my 23rd with
a huge bacon and egg breakfast and pressies before heading out for a game drive
around the farm. We spot all bokkies that are resident on the farm, plus a few
karoo rats and mountain zebra. Sadly no giraffe. We come back to the house for
tea and coffee with wollies chocolate cupcakes and carrot cake and lounge around
for the afternoon until the men start a fire for a braai. That night we decide
that Hannah and I will stay another day on mikes farm with him while mom and dad
head back to the cost to visit friends in Pringle Bay. Mikle takes us all to
some hot spring pools where we swim in the warm water during a light drizzle of
rain until the grownups set out and we take a scenic road back to the house.
Another braai, Gin n Tonics and Games in the evening.
After picking up Mikes dog Lucie, we hit the road for a 5 hour
drive back to Cape Town. Once arrived at Mikes house in Cape Town/Kommetjie, we
clean up the mess the baboons made while raiding the house and settle in for a
TV evening on the couch.
The next day we take Lucie for a walk at kommetjie beach and meet
up with mom and dad to have lunch/tea at Mikes friend nicks little
restaurant/cafe. We enjoy excellent food and take a quick tour through mikes
factory before prowling the Biltong and wollies bakery factory shops next door.
On mikes tip, we take at daytrip north up the coast to look at
the game and the spectacular wild spring flowers at the west cost
park.
The weather in Cape town is not great (11C, rain
and wind) but we bight the bullet anyway and do little daytrips to Fishhoek, and
up north to visit the Biscuit Mill food market on Saturday morning. We eat
ourselves through the samples of all the sands and splash out on a few goodies
like coffee, Italian bruschetta and roesties laden with bacon, egg and
hollandaise sauce. After the biscuit mill we head back home to Kennilworth
(where we stayed with friends Andries and Gaby, during our time in Cape Town) and head
out for a last evening braai with Mike and Frog.
We leave early the next morning to catch our flight to Durban,
where we are picked up by Gill and taken inland to her farm in the Dargal
Valley.
A update with happenings and pics of the farm will follow soon.
Hopefully more descriptive than the last few blogs.. sorry about the lame style
of writing and everything I might have forgotten to mention, everyone
:((
a mere run down of events, nothing to pretty or descriptive.
We spent 3 days in Plett, spending our time walking on the beach,
canoeing over to the other side of the lagoon, visiting market day at “old nicks
art village”, window-shopping in town, watching whales over the bay and taking a
day trip to robberg, where we do a quick hike around the peninsular and head
back into town for our last supper at the “Rod and Weel”, famous for its fish
menus.
We head down the garden route and stop of at
wilderness and mosselbay for me to show my family the backpackers we stayed at
when I was here a year ago. We get chatting to the owners and staff members,
watch koi fish in the pond and play with the hostels cats. After a short stop of
at George to visit Diannes Father, we head inland to where her brother mikle has
a little house in a nature reserve in the Klein Karoo. We are greeted warmly and
instantly feel at home with him and settle in for the evening. The next morning
we celebrate my 23rd with
a huge bacon and egg breakfast and pressies before heading out for a game drive
around the farm. We spot all bokkies that are resident on the farm, plus a few
karoo rats and mountain zebra. Sadly no giraffe. We come back to the house for
tea and coffee with wollies chocolate cupcakes and carrot cake and lounge around
for the afternoon until the men start a fire for a braai. That night we decide
that Hannah and I will stay another day on mikes farm with him while mom and dad
head back to the cost to visit friends in Pringle Bay. Mikle takes us all to
some hot spring pools where we swim in the warm water during a light drizzle of
rain until the grownups set out and we take a scenic road back to the house.
Another braai, Gin n Tonics and Games in the evening.
After picking up Mikes dog Lucie, we hit the road for a 5 hour
drive back to Cape Town. Once arrived at Mikes house in Cape Town/Kommetjie, we
clean up the mess the baboons made while raiding the house and settle in for a
TV evening on the couch.
The next day we take Lucie for a walk at kommetjie beach and meet
up with mom and dad to have lunch/tea at Mikes friend nicks little
restaurant/cafe. We enjoy excellent food and take a quick tour through mikes
factory before prowling the Biltong and wollies bakery factory shops next door.
On mikes tip, we take at daytrip north up the coast to look at
the game and the spectacular wild spring flowers at the west cost
park.
The weather in Cape town is not great (11C, rain
and wind) but we bight the bullet anyway and do little daytrips to Fishhoek, and
up north to visit the Biscuit Mill food market on Saturday morning. We eat
ourselves through the samples of all the sands and splash out on a few goodies
like coffee, Italian bruschetta and roesties laden with bacon, egg and
hollandaise sauce. After the biscuit mill we head back home to Kennilworth
(where we stayed with friends Andries and Gaby, during our time in Cape Town) and head
out for a last evening braai with Mike and Frog.
We leave early the next morning to catch our flight to Durban,
where we are picked up by Gill and taken inland to her farm in the Dargal
Valley.
A update with happenings and pics of the farm will follow soon.
Hopefully more descriptive than the last few blogs.. sorry about the lame style
of writing and everything I might have forgotten to mention, everyone
:((
Beached Surfer
The next day we meet up with family friends who take us to their little house in the nature reserve “renosterport” just outside Pretoria. It’s a lovely little house, built with only the necessary comfort, nestled into the rocks on a little hill overlooking the reserve. We arrive late at night and after a braai with cooked veggies we settle in for a late night.
Friedel wakes us the next morning with coffee and rusks in bed and after we slowly peel out of bed we go for a little walk in the reserve. We cross paths with warthogs, Impala and a big heard of 20 + Eland. Once we arrive back at the house we throw together a brilliant breakfast with the leftovers of last night’s supper, fruit, bread and cereal. We get packed up and drive back over to Pretoria, for our hosts Steve and Sabine are waiting for us to take us for a little walk/hike in the Ferie Glen nature reserve where our parents used to take the kids for walks at Easter, hiding Easter eggs in the long grass next to the path.
We spend the next two days reorganizing ourselves for the next leg of our trip. We fly to Pe late Monday night and spend the next few days running errands and visiting family. We go to have supper at the “Cubato” restaurant that we went to the last time I was in SA and once again dive into huge plates of spare ribs, chips, hot, buttered rolls and salad. Seeing as I am writing as lame as a comatose sloth, I will copy paste the description I used last year, so as to give you a more vivid picture:
“The place was stuffed with people and if this restaurant was set anywhere other than in south africa (possibly also the darker ends of Brazil) it would be shut down in no time.. I am not going to mention the toilets, for they looked similar to the kitchen: Meat and blood everywhere, a whole heard of animals lying nicely cut and prepared next to a fire spitting grill and a cat perched on top of them. Yes, a cat, alive, though he looked like he might have been chucked onto that gill by mistake once or twice.. There was no noticeable difference between cook, waiter and owner, they all seemed to do the same job, although the most portuguese-looking guy got the most applause when bringing food, so he might of been the owner of the place, greeting everyone with hugs and kisses and claps on the shoulder. And the food!! Huge plates of spareribs, grilled chicken, chips and pawns that where just dripping with butter and sauce. We kind of have a black out about what happened after the food was served, all we remember is too much food on our plates and them no more food on our plates, all of us looking like we just killed and ate a whole cow using only our teeth.. Best restaurant ever!! Apparently you have to book months beforehand to get a table, and we are always grateful for when karl and leighanne reserve for us..”
Once the feeding frenzy is over we head back home to get packed up so as to leave to Jefferys bay the next day.
Nick wants me to teach him how to surf so as soon as lunch is over, I grab my board and we go to find Andrew the surfer who lends Nick a board and Wetsuit. After two hours of me delivering spectacular nose-dives, we finally both get into it and catch our fist successful waves.
As soon as breakfast is over the next morning we are back in the water. The tide is out and we have difficulty with the continuous beach brakes until I get caught in a rather nasty set of waves and am dunked under water numerous times. Finally the last wave of the set arrives and I duck dive, only to be caught head over heal and somehow manage to be pushed into the sand with the wave flinging my legs up and over my head, forcing me into a scorpion position and thus bending my spine over backwards. I hear a sickening crunching sound and find myself in a polyclinic shortly after. Thank goodness no bone damage, just squished a bit of the soft tissue in my spine. Equals a happy injection in my but, a ridiculous back brace and no more surfing for the rest of the holiday. Possible explanation for my lousy mood, lousy spelling and lousy stile of writing. Goodbye motivation. Nick and Hannah do they best to keep me entertained the next few days and we go to have milkshakes on the beach, shop at the billabong outlets and spend many hours watching the pros at “Supertubes”
Our days in Jefferys come to an end and we drive back to Port Elizabeth, where we spend some more time with Family and friends. We will start out journey down to Cape Town tomorrow, where we will be stopping by at Plettenberg bay for a few days before we continue down the cost.
For those who have not fallen asleep while reading this crap, good luck with hoping the next blog will be better.
A short thank you to everyone who has taken us up until now, especially Steve and Sabine (PTA) and Leigh-Anne and Karl (PE), it is always helpful to have a home base when we are here, and of course to Mo and Friedel for sharing their little bit of paradise with us.
Sand in our shoes
After a sleepless night I finally give up the hope of unconsciousness taking over and leap out of bed at 5.30 on the morning of the 26th. I sneak out the cool house and grab one of Digbys bicycles and head out along one of the dusty paths through the forest surrounding the house. It is not entirely light yet as I fly through the forest, chasing up franklins and doves that are nesting in the undergrowth. Monkey above me start chattering and call after me as I cycle deeper into the bush. I slow to a stop and try in vain to catch the image of a pair of hornbills on my camera in the dim light but have to give up when the monkey warn them of my presence. They flutter of into the thicker bushes and vanish completely from my sight. I turn the bike and start heading home, the thought of fresh coffee on my mind distracting me from the advancing black shape ahead. It finally does catch my attention and I only have enough time to recognize the dreaded shape of a carnivore before my body takes over and sends me hurtling into the other direction, heart slamming, convinced I will end up as breakfast for whatever creature it was behind me. Only after a few minutes of frantic peddling do I begin to think reasonably and slow down to risk a peak over my shoulder. Nothing. I stop and take a better look. Still nothing. The thought of it –whatever it was- now being behind me AND out of sight has my feet paddling frantically towards home again. I wait for the rest of my humans to wake up before I grab a sleep drunken Nick and drag him to the spot where I saw my creature. I walk up and down the path and the humiliating feeling that it most likely was just a bushbuck or something else embarrassing settles in me. But then Nick stops short and points to the ground, where we spot a couple of rather large paw prints. “Hyena” Nick says, which Vanessa confirms later on. The poor thing probably got a bigger fright than I, with a human charging up on him during his morning stroll. The prints disappearing into the bush did look rather desperate..
Heavy hearted, we say goodbye and leave Sentinel later that morning and head down to the dreaded Beitbrige border. We are “lucky” and only need about 2-3 hours to cross over into South Africa. We say a short “Hi-Bye” to Digbys brother Gaven who is coincidently crossing the border at the same time as us, only in the other direction.
We reach Haenertsburg that evening where we spent the night on the dairy farm of family friends, Nipper and Silvie Tompson, who I visited on my travels last year. We have dinner with them and wake fairly early the morning to witness the sun rising over the hills surrounding the farm. A cool, silvery mist covers everything as it rises slowly from the valley and vanishes in thin ribbons of light as the sun progresses its way through the sky. The mist is replaced by musky smelling wood smoke as the staff pokes the fires in the agars back to life. We have breakfast and venture out onto the farms, where we taste some of Nippers own made cheese, chase chickens and follow dogs into the indigenous forest. Nick, Hannah and I wind our way through the forest until we find the swing we used to spend countless hours on as kids. It’s attached to one of the branches of a tree which hangs of the side of a little gorge, clinging to the side by its roots. We grab the rope and pull it back, away from the edge. Then we jump up, landing our feet on the swing and fly towards and over the edge, into the branches of the surrounding forest. After each one has his turn, and I manage to go crashing into a small three growing out from the gorge, we head back up to the house. Once again, we say goodbye to loved ones and continue our journey south, where we spend the night in a little double charley with private pool just outside the Kurger Park. A large spotted Genet joins us for supper before we head for bed.
As early as we can, we pack up and enter the gates into the Kruger Park the next day, where we spend a couple of hours driving south, looking for a nice spot to spread the ashes of my Granddad, who passed away earlier this year. On our way we spot countless Impala, Kudu, Nyala, Warthog, Ostrich, Waterbuck, Elephant, a special sighting of Rhino, and many suicidal franklins on the road. We finally find a lovely place overlooking a waterhole with hippos in it to say goodbye to my Granddad. We notice a large amount of cars parked on the other side of the water, but decide they are possibly just attracted by the hippos. We hold a small ceremony and finally the wind catches the ashes and carries them up and over the plain, toward the waterhole.
Only once we hear the all too familiar sound of a Lions call, we jump back into the car and head around the waterhole to see what is causing the commotion. And low and behold, a Lioness and 5 cubs crouch just a meter away from the road, enjoying the remains of a Waterbuck for lunch. We fall in next to the cars and get a nice view of the lions. Slowly, the female heaves her bulging belly of the grown and winds her way into the bush, towards the water for a drink. One by one her cups follow her, rolling and tumbling over their own paws, until all 6 disappear from our view. We are cuffed to have seen something so rare and spectacular, and head back south. We arrive at Owens farm late that night, where we are greeted with a fantastic braai with pap and other sides. We spent the night at his house before we continue to reach the last leg of our road trip, back to Pretoria where it all began.
So we are back in civilizing now, warm showers, with working internet, shopping malls, traffic lights and nespresso coffee. As much as we are enjoying some of the things we missed dearly on this trip (cappuccino!) some of us are feeling strangely lost and out of place. The trip somehow came to an end before we realized it and suddenly we are thrust back into real life and all that remains are photos, memories and sand stuck in the toes of our shoes..
Heavy hearted, we say goodbye and leave Sentinel later that morning and head down to the dreaded Beitbrige border. We are “lucky” and only need about 2-3 hours to cross over into South Africa. We say a short “Hi-Bye” to Digbys brother Gaven who is coincidently crossing the border at the same time as us, only in the other direction.
We reach Haenertsburg that evening where we spent the night on the dairy farm of family friends, Nipper and Silvie Tompson, who I visited on my travels last year. We have dinner with them and wake fairly early the morning to witness the sun rising over the hills surrounding the farm. A cool, silvery mist covers everything as it rises slowly from the valley and vanishes in thin ribbons of light as the sun progresses its way through the sky. The mist is replaced by musky smelling wood smoke as the staff pokes the fires in the agars back to life. We have breakfast and venture out onto the farms, where we taste some of Nippers own made cheese, chase chickens and follow dogs into the indigenous forest. Nick, Hannah and I wind our way through the forest until we find the swing we used to spend countless hours on as kids. It’s attached to one of the branches of a tree which hangs of the side of a little gorge, clinging to the side by its roots. We grab the rope and pull it back, away from the edge. Then we jump up, landing our feet on the swing and fly towards and over the edge, into the branches of the surrounding forest. After each one has his turn, and I manage to go crashing into a small three growing out from the gorge, we head back up to the house. Once again, we say goodbye to loved ones and continue our journey south, where we spend the night in a little double charley with private pool just outside the Kurger Park. A large spotted Genet joins us for supper before we head for bed.
As early as we can, we pack up and enter the gates into the Kruger Park the next day, where we spend a couple of hours driving south, looking for a nice spot to spread the ashes of my Granddad, who passed away earlier this year. On our way we spot countless Impala, Kudu, Nyala, Warthog, Ostrich, Waterbuck, Elephant, a special sighting of Rhino, and many suicidal franklins on the road. We finally find a lovely place overlooking a waterhole with hippos in it to say goodbye to my Granddad. We notice a large amount of cars parked on the other side of the water, but decide they are possibly just attracted by the hippos. We hold a small ceremony and finally the wind catches the ashes and carries them up and over the plain, toward the waterhole.
Only once we hear the all too familiar sound of a Lions call, we jump back into the car and head around the waterhole to see what is causing the commotion. And low and behold, a Lioness and 5 cubs crouch just a meter away from the road, enjoying the remains of a Waterbuck for lunch. We fall in next to the cars and get a nice view of the lions. Slowly, the female heaves her bulging belly of the grown and winds her way into the bush, towards the water for a drink. One by one her cups follow her, rolling and tumbling over their own paws, until all 6 disappear from our view. We are cuffed to have seen something so rare and spectacular, and head back south. We arrive at Owens farm late that night, where we are greeted with a fantastic braai with pap and other sides. We spent the night at his house before we continue to reach the last leg of our road trip, back to Pretoria where it all began.
So we are back in civilizing now, warm showers, with working internet, shopping malls, traffic lights and nespresso coffee. As much as we are enjoying some of the things we missed dearly on this trip (cappuccino!) some of us are feeling strangely lost and out of place. The trip somehow came to an end before we realized it and suddenly we are thrust back into real life and all that remains are photos, memories and sand stuck in the toes of our shoes..
5 Days in Paradise
That evening Digby and Vanessa want to take us into the valley of barking Gekkos, which they had visited just a few nights before. We are not to sure what to expect and jump into the Landdrover for an about 30min drive where we then have to get out and walk the rest of the way. We set out in a clean line following Digby who tells us to keep as quiet as possible so as not to scare the Gekkos away. After approx. 20min of walking he points to a little kopjie of rocks and motions us to climb up. After a short scramble we reach the top and are rewarded with a stunning view over Sentinel. An Elefant rumbles in the distance and we relax back into chatting. “Shh” Digby hushes us and cups his hands over his ears. Feeling slightly concerned about his mental health, I do the same. And then I hear the “Tik tik tik” Vanessa told us about.
In loss of words, I take the freedom to quote an excerpt of Vanessa Bristows story about the Gekko hills, for I feel my mellow description will do this experience no justice at all:
““Tik Tik Tik!”
“Listen!” Digby instructed.
Again, but louder, distinct: “TIK TIK TIK!” and another, further away - “tik-tik-tik!”
“Do you hear it?” he asked. My head spun one way and the other, trying to see what was making the noise. We were surrounded.
“Tik-tik-tik!”
“TIK-TIK-TIK!”
Tik-Tik-Tik!”
“Barking geckos,” he whispered, smiling. “ They’re in the sand. Wait. They’re only just beginning.”
Like an afternoon shower that begins with a few raindrops on a hot tin roof to become a thundering storm, so the valley filled with loquacious gecko chatter.
I scrambled down the kopjie in the fading light. I had to see what was making those calls! I cupped my hand over my ears to zone-in on the nearest “TIK,TIK,TIK!” Was it coming from a bush? I crept closer, treading as quietly as I could. Three times I stood and listened.
“TIK,TIK,TIK!”
“Tik-tik-tik!”
“Tik,Tik,Tik!”
There were hundreds of them. I edged closer again. Sure enough, the sound was coming from low down. Squinting to see by the very last light of day, I could just discern a few narrow burrows in the ground, and from one of them, at the base of a coppice of dry grass, a pale little creature with big black eyes protruded. A gecko! “TIK, TIK,TIK!” it shouted at me, “TIK,TIK,TIK!!”
Camera in hand, I bent slowly towards it, and tried in vain to focus in the dying light. The flash burst, and the animal I was looking at disappeared in an instant - but the blurred image of a richly yellow-throated gecko remained on the back of my camera. I sat down in the grass, mesmerised by the chorus of calls rising around me.
Digby’s late brother, Colin, had introduced us to this place years ago, but at least 20 years had passed since then, and I don’t remember that we had stayed long to hear the geckos. Known as barking geckos (Ptenopus garrulous), these little reptiles are endemic to red Kalahari sands. As dusk and en masse, the males pop their heads and flashy yellow throats out of their burrows to emit loud vocalised advertisements to attract females. “
We sit listening to the Gekkos until the moon rises and with it the last of the “Tik tik tiks” fade away slowly until vanishing completely. We scramble back down the rocks and make our way back to the car, headlights bobbing and flashing through the bushes, creating obscene shadows that conjure up images of vicious predators in my mind. I hurry up ahead to catch up with Digby who is finding our path only by moonlight. I am careful stay only inches behind him, replacing each of his footsteps with one of my own as soon as his shoe leaves the ground. The stops suddenly, causing me to nearly crash into him, wiping his head from side to side. “Hear that”, he whispers. “Jackal”. He carries on walking. “And that? Leopard! Hruff hruff” he mimics the Leopards call in the distance. “Maybe I can call him over for you” he calls softly over his shoulder,’ hruff hruffing’ as he picks up his pace. The lights of the others have fallen a little way behind. I ask whether Hyena would attack us if they were to be around. “Yeah sure, they might”, Digby answers. “So try and avoid limping.” I am not sure if he is joking or not, but do my best to stick even closer to his back. Finally we reach the car and all pile up for a very icy ride back home where we are greeted with a warm pot of stew waiting for us on the stove.
We spend the rest of the week going on game drives in the morning, reading, chilling, swimming or sleeping in the afternoons and then again going for game drives in the evenings. We swop the occasional drive with a little walk in the forest or an hour or two in the blind at the waterhole. Old clients go and new ones come, bringing with them a large bag of clothing for the Staffs children and Make up for the wives. We dress Toddlers and paint the nails of children and have great fun playing with the Kids and taking photos. Roberts Daughter Amy is extremely shy and not used to so many people so Mom and I take time trying to gain her trust and build up her confidence. Slowly slowly she leaves Roberts side and ventures closer to us, and two hours later she is running around squealing and playing with various objects I offer to her. Digby and Vanessa show us old photo album and Robert cooks us delicious meals 3 times a day. We climb Kopjies for sunsets and have Gin ‘n’ Tonics under humungous Baobabs. The days merge into a blur of bushvelt and forests, sunsets and shady spots under trees, icy evenings and hot, lazy afternoons, going for walks with the Dogs or rides with the Motorbikes, until we lose track of time, only to be devastated at the realization that today is our last day on Sentinel.
In loss of words, I take the freedom to quote an excerpt of Vanessa Bristows story about the Gekko hills, for I feel my mellow description will do this experience no justice at all:
““Tik Tik Tik!”
“Listen!” Digby instructed.
Again, but louder, distinct: “TIK TIK TIK!” and another, further away - “tik-tik-tik!”
“Do you hear it?” he asked. My head spun one way and the other, trying to see what was making the noise. We were surrounded.
“Tik-tik-tik!”
“TIK-TIK-TIK!”
Tik-Tik-Tik!”
“Barking geckos,” he whispered, smiling. “ They’re in the sand. Wait. They’re only just beginning.”
Like an afternoon shower that begins with a few raindrops on a hot tin roof to become a thundering storm, so the valley filled with loquacious gecko chatter.
I scrambled down the kopjie in the fading light. I had to see what was making those calls! I cupped my hand over my ears to zone-in on the nearest “TIK,TIK,TIK!” Was it coming from a bush? I crept closer, treading as quietly as I could. Three times I stood and listened.
“TIK,TIK,TIK!”
“Tik-tik-tik!”
“Tik,Tik,Tik!”
There were hundreds of them. I edged closer again. Sure enough, the sound was coming from low down. Squinting to see by the very last light of day, I could just discern a few narrow burrows in the ground, and from one of them, at the base of a coppice of dry grass, a pale little creature with big black eyes protruded. A gecko! “TIK, TIK,TIK!” it shouted at me, “TIK,TIK,TIK!!”
Camera in hand, I bent slowly towards it, and tried in vain to focus in the dying light. The flash burst, and the animal I was looking at disappeared in an instant - but the blurred image of a richly yellow-throated gecko remained on the back of my camera. I sat down in the grass, mesmerised by the chorus of calls rising around me.
Digby’s late brother, Colin, had introduced us to this place years ago, but at least 20 years had passed since then, and I don’t remember that we had stayed long to hear the geckos. Known as barking geckos (Ptenopus garrulous), these little reptiles are endemic to red Kalahari sands. As dusk and en masse, the males pop their heads and flashy yellow throats out of their burrows to emit loud vocalised advertisements to attract females. “
We sit listening to the Gekkos until the moon rises and with it the last of the “Tik tik tiks” fade away slowly until vanishing completely. We scramble back down the rocks and make our way back to the car, headlights bobbing and flashing through the bushes, creating obscene shadows that conjure up images of vicious predators in my mind. I hurry up ahead to catch up with Digby who is finding our path only by moonlight. I am careful stay only inches behind him, replacing each of his footsteps with one of my own as soon as his shoe leaves the ground. The stops suddenly, causing me to nearly crash into him, wiping his head from side to side. “Hear that”, he whispers. “Jackal”. He carries on walking. “And that? Leopard! Hruff hruff” he mimics the Leopards call in the distance. “Maybe I can call him over for you” he calls softly over his shoulder,’ hruff hruffing’ as he picks up his pace. The lights of the others have fallen a little way behind. I ask whether Hyena would attack us if they were to be around. “Yeah sure, they might”, Digby answers. “So try and avoid limping.” I am not sure if he is joking or not, but do my best to stick even closer to his back. Finally we reach the car and all pile up for a very icy ride back home where we are greeted with a warm pot of stew waiting for us on the stove.
We spend the rest of the week going on game drives in the morning, reading, chilling, swimming or sleeping in the afternoons and then again going for game drives in the evenings. We swop the occasional drive with a little walk in the forest or an hour or two in the blind at the waterhole. Old clients go and new ones come, bringing with them a large bag of clothing for the Staffs children and Make up for the wives. We dress Toddlers and paint the nails of children and have great fun playing with the Kids and taking photos. Roberts Daughter Amy is extremely shy and not used to so many people so Mom and I take time trying to gain her trust and build up her confidence. Slowly slowly she leaves Roberts side and ventures closer to us, and two hours later she is running around squealing and playing with various objects I offer to her. Digby and Vanessa show us old photo album and Robert cooks us delicious meals 3 times a day. We climb Kopjies for sunsets and have Gin ‘n’ Tonics under humungous Baobabs. The days merge into a blur of bushvelt and forests, sunsets and shady spots under trees, icy evenings and hot, lazy afternoons, going for walks with the Dogs or rides with the Motorbikes, until we lose track of time, only to be devastated at the realization that today is our last day on Sentinel.
Dust and Water
Ok.. well it was more close to 7am than 5am until we finally left camp to see the falls. After a heated discussion to whether or not we are South African (Vanessa, please not my beautiful “c” in that last word ;)) residents with the guy at the entrance, we finally get through the gates and after a short walk through the rainforest, arrive at the edge overlooking the Vic falls. As I have realized at many occasions, words can once again not describe the overwhelming effect such a beautiful place has. Hundreds of thousands of liters of water come crashing down the edge of the 107 m high cliff across from us. The water hits the ground and explodes into billions of little sparkling drops, all gathering together into a thick glittering mist that rises back up the gorge to meet us as we gaze over edge, moistening our faces and camera lenses. The morning light catches the droplets and creates a curtain of golden light hovering just in front of the falls, not quite covering them from view. Every now and again a breeze lifts the curtain and we catch a glimpse of the falls in full glory. We wonder along the edge, always stopping to take pictures of the ever-changing views of the falls. We spot some bushbuck in the fields on our right, a small male nibbling the bushes just a meter away from us. Far too soon we reach the end of the path and once again are greeted with a spectacular view of the falls, this time with ponds and puddles at the bottom, some of them fed by trickles of the falls, others by gushing white water rivers. Crowded blow up boats and lonesome Kayaks take turns in paddling through the rapids below.
We sit at the edge for a while, watching the Kayakers dodging and soaking in the atmosphere for a little while, before we head back through the rainforest and towards the exit. Everybody wants to do some souvenir shopping at the little market just outside the entrance, where they were screaming special prices at us the night before, only to realize that these “special prices” have vanished, or rather have been multiplied by 5 or even more. I eyeball a little hippo rock pond that I already fancied the first time I saw it, and dive into the game of bargaining. The stand owner offers me his special price, still 4 times as much as he was wanting only 12 hours earlier. I shake my head and wonder of. He catches my arm and brings the price down a notch. I tell him the guy next doors things are cheaper. We are down 50% now. I confront him with the prices he was offering last night. “Not the original, these more valuable” he says. “Bullsh*t” I respond and turn to leave .He offers me yet another discount if I take two of them. I agree and leave the stand as fast as possible, Hippos tucked under my arm and with the feeling of eyes like daggers in the back of my head.
We have an exclusive breakfast back at camp and set out for our 600km drive to Bolowao, where we spend the night at Digby’s and Vanessa’s town house. We spend the evening with their lodger watching “the grey” and playing with his two jackrussel pups.
We head out the next morning to Sentinel/Border ridge farm. We arrive late evening and watch the full moon rise over the Limpopo Riverbed until suppers up and we settle in for the night.
The next morning is a slow start and after everyone has breakfast, Digby and Vanessa take us for a game drive where we spot Impala, Baboons, Kudu, Zebra, Wildebeest, Giraffe and many more little Bookie things.
We have delicious bacon and eggs for lunch and everyone settles in for a lazy afternoon. Nick gives me a twisting motion with his wrist and within seconds I am sitting on the back of Didgby’s old motorbike and off we o along the dusty road, leaving the clatter and chatter behind and replacing it with the rattle of the machine underneath us. We race through the gates and skid along the sand, over hills that send my heard plummeting down into my feet, and through ditches that have it racing back into my throat, causing a giggly laugh of exhilaration escaping my lips. We don’t spot any game sadly, but the ride is worth it none the less. We double back and head for home, where I settle down with a warms and dusty dog on my lap to write.
We sit at the edge for a while, watching the Kayakers dodging and soaking in the atmosphere for a little while, before we head back through the rainforest and towards the exit. Everybody wants to do some souvenir shopping at the little market just outside the entrance, where they were screaming special prices at us the night before, only to realize that these “special prices” have vanished, or rather have been multiplied by 5 or even more. I eyeball a little hippo rock pond that I already fancied the first time I saw it, and dive into the game of bargaining. The stand owner offers me his special price, still 4 times as much as he was wanting only 12 hours earlier. I shake my head and wonder of. He catches my arm and brings the price down a notch. I tell him the guy next doors things are cheaper. We are down 50% now. I confront him with the prices he was offering last night. “Not the original, these more valuable” he says. “Bullsh*t” I respond and turn to leave .He offers me yet another discount if I take two of them. I agree and leave the stand as fast as possible, Hippos tucked under my arm and with the feeling of eyes like daggers in the back of my head.
We have an exclusive breakfast back at camp and set out for our 600km drive to Bolowao, where we spend the night at Digby’s and Vanessa’s town house. We spend the evening with their lodger watching “the grey” and playing with his two jackrussel pups.
We head out the next morning to Sentinel/Border ridge farm. We arrive late evening and watch the full moon rise over the Limpopo Riverbed until suppers up and we settle in for the night.
The next morning is a slow start and after everyone has breakfast, Digby and Vanessa take us for a game drive where we spot Impala, Baboons, Kudu, Zebra, Wildebeest, Giraffe and many more little Bookie things.
We have delicious bacon and eggs for lunch and everyone settles in for a lazy afternoon. Nick gives me a twisting motion with his wrist and within seconds I am sitting on the back of Didgby’s old motorbike and off we o along the dusty road, leaving the clatter and chatter behind and replacing it with the rattle of the machine underneath us. We race through the gates and skid along the sand, over hills that send my heard plummeting down into my feet, and through ditches that have it racing back into my throat, causing a giggly laugh of exhilaration escaping my lips. We don’t spot any game sadly, but the ride is worth it none the less. We double back and head for home, where I settle down with a warms and dusty dog on my lap to write.
Scatterlings of Africa
We leave the Campsite the next morning and drive through the game reserve to the now run down camp where my Uncle was stationed in the Bush war 30 years ago, „Buffalo“. Very eerie driving through the ruins of the camp with Owen telling us stories of the years when he was there. We have lunch and look for a few places Owen can remember, one of them a bar built around a huge Baobab. We hit the road again and drive South, heading to Mamili, but have to set up camp on the side of the road before we get there for the Cooks little Tata has decided it’s had enough and wont drive faster than 90km/h. We find quite a nice place though and set up for the night with another delicious Poiki dinner. In the early hours of the morning we here soft footsteps through the camp accompanied by a low rumbling. Later that morning we find Elephant spur right in the middle of our camp.
We head on to Mamili where we finally really experience what it means to be in the wetlands of Afrika. We have to cross numerous puddles, ponds and rivers to get to our destination, which nobody can quite locate, not even Manfred or his Navi. We take countless turnoffs and shortcuts, get stuck in sand or mud more than once before we find a stunning site just in time to watch the sun setting over a herd of Elephant grazing and playing in the water on the opposite bank of a pond/lake inhabited buy rather large cros and hippos. We set up camp and listen to Hippos grunting in the water and lions calling far of in the distance.
The next morning is a slow start. We sleep in and have breakfast, do some washing and build up little shade camps made out of tent poles and Kikois where we sleep, read and paint. After lunch we set out for an afternoon game drive where we spot Impala, Kudu, Warthogs, Zebra and Elephant. We encounter more rivers to cross and Bundus to bash. We roll into camp late and braai for supper. Once again, the Hippos start their concert one the sun is down and we scan the bush for glowing eyes in the darkness. We spot a Hippo out of the water just a few meters from our campfire. Slowly but surely the Hippo grows uncomfortable with the light in its eyes and when Jeremy lets out a cough it springs into action and comes charging towards us, sending the humans around the fire flying in different directions. Luckily it decides to Detour back into the water and leaves us alone for the rest of the night, except for a couple of pissed of grunts and huffs every now and then. Manfred, Hannah and Nik decide to play a joke on the rest, and after announcing they were off for a pee, they sneak around and come crashing and stomping towards us from behind the camp. Gill lets out a “F**k off” and again we all spring into action, diving over tents and into cars. Many underpants did not survive this evening. We decide to hit the sac once the Lions start calling again late at night, this time a few kilometers closer.
We wake up at 6am and head straight out for a game drive the next morning. We don’t see to anything too exciting and decide to settle in next to a small herd of Elephant for coffee and rusks. We meet some Afrikaans/Germany people who give us some tips and advice on further camping sites and head back to camp where we spend the rest of the day showering, chilling, reading, drawing and making some more Stockbrot for supper to accompany our Chicken Curry. A howling wind sets in and we grow slightly anxious when our Hippo chorus does not set in after sundown. We celebrate the cooke’s last night with thank you speeches to everyone and some Vodka mix drinks. We decide to slowly head to bed just when the Lions start their calling again, this time just over on the other side of the pond. With the hair standing straight up on the back of our necks, we crawl into our sleeping bags and mentally track the path of the lions circling the pond until we fall asleep, close to midnight. At about 2am I find myself sitting straight up in bed woken buy very very close sounding roars just outside the camp. Heart slamming in my chest I somehow go back to sleep, only to be woken a few hours later buy someone – or something- rustling around the camp. I don’t quite trust my bladder to peek outside, so I lie listening for a while until I hear people talking and car doors slamming and decide it must all be all right and drift back into unconsciousness.
When I wake the next morning, various parts of the party fill me in in the night’s happenings. Apparently Jeremy lay awake as well, listening to the Lions coming closer to camp. When the Hippos in the pond stated getting agitated and he could hear the “Huff, huff” of their breaths just over the river, he decided to wake those sleeping in the ground tents with a low “don’t ask any questions, just get into the car” and piled all of them into the Tata. After sitting there for a little while, they went for a little drive to see if they can spot any golden eyes in the long grass, but didn’t find anything and so they came to the conclusion it was safe to crawl back into the tents, this time all huddled up together with half of the kids refusing to leave the car.
We can’t quite hide our relief when we pack up and leave camp. We struggle through soft sand and high water back out of Mamili reserve and head over to Katima Mulino, close to the Botswana boader, where we say a sad goodbye to the Cookes and set up camp in a very green and clean campsite on the Zambisi river. We get cleaned up and settle in for the night, only to realize we really miss the calls on the other side of the river and with them the images in our minds, held at bay only by the warm withering glow of a crackling camp fire.
The next morning is another slow start, and we head out for town after having showers and breakfast. The men set out to find a garage for our Vehicle (which is called “Precious”, we just found out) seems to be fed up with our adventure and is on strike. Don’t ask me for mechanical details, I suck at car talk. They drop us ladies of at an African market in the center of town and head. We wonder through market, which mainly sells African fabric, Tabaco, dried herbs and lots of dried and not to good smelling fish of all sizes. The moms immediately dive into the fabric stalls and start pulling out each and every supply of fabric these ladies have, measuring, discussing, rethinking and bargaining. The girls hang back, taking pictures and befriending the masses of children running around the market. I take a walk over to the Fish part of the market, only to stagger back head over heels, gagging and with tears coming out of my eyes, much to the amusement of the locals. I can’t let this rest on me so I take a deep breath and march straight into the midst of the Fish stands. Just before I make the exit my breath runs out and I need to take another gasp of air, which I regret badly, but try to keep a straight face. At least the locals seem to have stopped wetting themselves. I steer clear of that part of the market for the rest of the day. Mom and Gill have found stunning pieces of material by the time I relocate them and I myself can no longer resist temptation and dive into the stalls, looking for fabric to match my new room at home. We bargain and talk to the ladies, get poked and patted by their children and buy fresh hot Vetkoek, (a type of bread dumpling fried in oil), constantly accompanied by traditional music mixed with the bass of Rap songs blasting out of the speakers some youngsters set up in a corner. The men arrive shortly after with a still-not-so-amused-Precious and we head back to camp, where we swim, read and start another braai for supper.
And now we have reached Victoria Falls, after a long day of driving through 3 countries with 2 border crossings. We had drinks at the Victoria Falls Hotel, (yes, THE hotel) and wondered back to our camp for the night. We will be getting up at 5 am tomorrow to go look at the falls..
We head on to Mamili where we finally really experience what it means to be in the wetlands of Afrika. We have to cross numerous puddles, ponds and rivers to get to our destination, which nobody can quite locate, not even Manfred or his Navi. We take countless turnoffs and shortcuts, get stuck in sand or mud more than once before we find a stunning site just in time to watch the sun setting over a herd of Elephant grazing and playing in the water on the opposite bank of a pond/lake inhabited buy rather large cros and hippos. We set up camp and listen to Hippos grunting in the water and lions calling far of in the distance.
The next morning is a slow start. We sleep in and have breakfast, do some washing and build up little shade camps made out of tent poles and Kikois where we sleep, read and paint. After lunch we set out for an afternoon game drive where we spot Impala, Kudu, Warthogs, Zebra and Elephant. We encounter more rivers to cross and Bundus to bash. We roll into camp late and braai for supper. Once again, the Hippos start their concert one the sun is down and we scan the bush for glowing eyes in the darkness. We spot a Hippo out of the water just a few meters from our campfire. Slowly but surely the Hippo grows uncomfortable with the light in its eyes and when Jeremy lets out a cough it springs into action and comes charging towards us, sending the humans around the fire flying in different directions. Luckily it decides to Detour back into the water and leaves us alone for the rest of the night, except for a couple of pissed of grunts and huffs every now and then. Manfred, Hannah and Nik decide to play a joke on the rest, and after announcing they were off for a pee, they sneak around and come crashing and stomping towards us from behind the camp. Gill lets out a “F**k off” and again we all spring into action, diving over tents and into cars. Many underpants did not survive this evening. We decide to hit the sac once the Lions start calling again late at night, this time a few kilometers closer.
We wake up at 6am and head straight out for a game drive the next morning. We don’t see to anything too exciting and decide to settle in next to a small herd of Elephant for coffee and rusks. We meet some Afrikaans/Germany people who give us some tips and advice on further camping sites and head back to camp where we spend the rest of the day showering, chilling, reading, drawing and making some more Stockbrot for supper to accompany our Chicken Curry. A howling wind sets in and we grow slightly anxious when our Hippo chorus does not set in after sundown. We celebrate the cooke’s last night with thank you speeches to everyone and some Vodka mix drinks. We decide to slowly head to bed just when the Lions start their calling again, this time just over on the other side of the pond. With the hair standing straight up on the back of our necks, we crawl into our sleeping bags and mentally track the path of the lions circling the pond until we fall asleep, close to midnight. At about 2am I find myself sitting straight up in bed woken buy very very close sounding roars just outside the camp. Heart slamming in my chest I somehow go back to sleep, only to be woken a few hours later buy someone – or something- rustling around the camp. I don’t quite trust my bladder to peek outside, so I lie listening for a while until I hear people talking and car doors slamming and decide it must all be all right and drift back into unconsciousness.
When I wake the next morning, various parts of the party fill me in in the night’s happenings. Apparently Jeremy lay awake as well, listening to the Lions coming closer to camp. When the Hippos in the pond stated getting agitated and he could hear the “Huff, huff” of their breaths just over the river, he decided to wake those sleeping in the ground tents with a low “don’t ask any questions, just get into the car” and piled all of them into the Tata. After sitting there for a little while, they went for a little drive to see if they can spot any golden eyes in the long grass, but didn’t find anything and so they came to the conclusion it was safe to crawl back into the tents, this time all huddled up together with half of the kids refusing to leave the car.
We can’t quite hide our relief when we pack up and leave camp. We struggle through soft sand and high water back out of Mamili reserve and head over to Katima Mulino, close to the Botswana boader, where we say a sad goodbye to the Cookes and set up camp in a very green and clean campsite on the Zambisi river. We get cleaned up and settle in for the night, only to realize we really miss the calls on the other side of the river and with them the images in our minds, held at bay only by the warm withering glow of a crackling camp fire.
The next morning is another slow start, and we head out for town after having showers and breakfast. The men set out to find a garage for our Vehicle (which is called “Precious”, we just found out) seems to be fed up with our adventure and is on strike. Don’t ask me for mechanical details, I suck at car talk. They drop us ladies of at an African market in the center of town and head. We wonder through market, which mainly sells African fabric, Tabaco, dried herbs and lots of dried and not to good smelling fish of all sizes. The moms immediately dive into the fabric stalls and start pulling out each and every supply of fabric these ladies have, measuring, discussing, rethinking and bargaining. The girls hang back, taking pictures and befriending the masses of children running around the market. I take a walk over to the Fish part of the market, only to stagger back head over heels, gagging and with tears coming out of my eyes, much to the amusement of the locals. I can’t let this rest on me so I take a deep breath and march straight into the midst of the Fish stands. Just before I make the exit my breath runs out and I need to take another gasp of air, which I regret badly, but try to keep a straight face. At least the locals seem to have stopped wetting themselves. I steer clear of that part of the market for the rest of the day. Mom and Gill have found stunning pieces of material by the time I relocate them and I myself can no longer resist temptation and dive into the stalls, looking for fabric to match my new room at home. We bargain and talk to the ladies, get poked and patted by their children and buy fresh hot Vetkoek, (a type of bread dumpling fried in oil), constantly accompanied by traditional music mixed with the bass of Rap songs blasting out of the speakers some youngsters set up in a corner. The men arrive shortly after with a still-not-so-amused-Precious and we head back to camp, where we swim, read and start another braai for supper.
And now we have reached Victoria Falls, after a long day of driving through 3 countries with 2 border crossings. We had drinks at the Victoria Falls Hotel, (yes, THE hotel) and wondered back to our camp for the night. We will be getting up at 5 am tomorrow to go look at the falls..
Only in africa
Woop woop, internet again. A short rundown on the previous days.
Day 1: We have breakfast at Angus place and then leave with him to a nearby dam, which we dont quit get to but we find a lovely p lace next to the river to camp. We set up camp for the first time on this trip and wait for Angus wife Jenny to come with the rest of the Cook crew and the supper while Angus takes Hannah and Owen out on the river with the canoe. Supper is a lovely braai with pap for supper and an entertaining evening around the campfire with stories from all over the world.
Day 2: The next morning we struggle to get up and get camp organized, but nevertheless make it eventually up to Francistown where we get all the rest of the equipment we didn’t think of before we left. We have a Wimpys burger for lunch and set off again to the Salt Pans and Kukonje Island where we find a magnificent Baobab to camp under at sunset. We braai and make pap in Jeremy’s brand new Poiki he bought in Francistown.
Day 3: After breakfast we head off for a little hike around Kukonje Island (which we have all for ourselves) from which we see lots of cows, dust devils and Baobabs. We leave the island and hit the salt pans where we have a little picnic and take family photos. We head back to camp where we have steak sandwiches for lunch and take a shower which Manfred kindly rigs up under the Baobab. We chill, sleep and read for the rest of the afternoon and then get to making a delicious Lamp Poiki on Couscous for supper. Half of the group take a late night walk out to the salt pans where we hope to see some mammals other than cows, but sadly don’t have much luck other than seeing a few shooting stars. Magical none the less.
Day 4: We start of early the next morning to drive up to the River where Manfred sets out to look for a campsite while the others wait for him on the side of the road, where Owen stops a local farmer on his donkey to ask him if we can all take a ride on the donkey. All take their turn until it throws Gill of under a thorn tree and Manfred calls us down to the campsite. We set up camp and Owen, Nick and Manfred manage to build up an electrical shower on the banks of the river. Best shower with a view. Sadly cold tho.. But we are all too happy to see flowing water after all that dust and salt. We braai once again and settle in for the night. Still no exciting mammals..
Day 5: Once again, we start the morning with breakfast, packing up camp and hitting the road. We arrive in Maun shortly after and have a traumatic shopping tour until I decide to leave the chaos to hunt for lunch. Somehow I land up all on my own in the middle of hundreds of locals standing in line for “Pap and Njama” where I just about get abducted by a group of way to friendly young men and receive countless evil looks from dark corners. Mesina flashbacks, just without all the Polony.. I hold my head high though and stand in line like I own the place and let everyone know that my Dad is the “BIG GUY STANDING OUTSIDE WAITING FOR HIS LUNCH” (haha) and get the hell out of there.
We finally leave Maun and arrive at camp under the Tsodilo Hills. (Highest “mountains” in Botswana). We arrive late at camp so we only have time to make supper before everyone hits the sac. The next morning we hire a guide to take us up and around one of the four Hills, the “Female”, where we see a few interesting birds and the main attraction, the Bushmen rock paintings. After the four hour hike, we head back to camp, have showers, read and make bread out of scratch. Supper is stockbrot, roast BBQ chicken and stir fried veggies ( sounds more like a culinary trip we are on here..)
Day 6: We are glad to be leaving this particular camp in the morning for everything is covered and infiltrated by a fine, charcoal black dust that has been blown into every possible place. Mugs, clothes, sleeping bags, muesli boxes, nose howls and the like. We drive for two hours to our next camp which is pretty much as close to heaven as we can get. Set on one of the little rivers of the Okavango Delta, surrounded by lush greens and Banana trees, with monkey’s climbing around in the canopies above and crocs chilling in the water below. We set up camp, have lunch, chill, swim in the nearby pool and then set out for an evening cruse up the river by boat where we spot several kingfishers, 6 fish eagles, otters (!), bee eaters, hippos and elephant and much more bird life. We witness a stunning sunset on the river and arrive back at camp on time to make borewors rolls with Manfreds bread.
We have now reached Day 7 of our trip and arrived after a nice bacon and eggs breakfast for Owens Birthday at the border to Namibia. We have a long drive through a ( I am terrible with names) game reserve and finally arrive in Camp which is as beautifull as the last one. A little more extravagant maybe ;). We’ve had our swim in the pool and sit listening to hippos in the river just a few meters away from camp while we let the past couple of days sink in and look forward to heading over to Mamili tomorrow.
xxb
Day 1: We have breakfast at Angus place and then leave with him to a nearby dam, which we dont quit get to but we find a lovely p lace next to the river to camp. We set up camp for the first time on this trip and wait for Angus wife Jenny to come with the rest of the Cook crew and the supper while Angus takes Hannah and Owen out on the river with the canoe. Supper is a lovely braai with pap for supper and an entertaining evening around the campfire with stories from all over the world.
Day 2: The next morning we struggle to get up and get camp organized, but nevertheless make it eventually up to Francistown where we get all the rest of the equipment we didn’t think of before we left. We have a Wimpys burger for lunch and set off again to the Salt Pans and Kukonje Island where we find a magnificent Baobab to camp under at sunset. We braai and make pap in Jeremy’s brand new Poiki he bought in Francistown.
Day 3: After breakfast we head off for a little hike around Kukonje Island (which we have all for ourselves) from which we see lots of cows, dust devils and Baobabs. We leave the island and hit the salt pans where we have a little picnic and take family photos. We head back to camp where we have steak sandwiches for lunch and take a shower which Manfred kindly rigs up under the Baobab. We chill, sleep and read for the rest of the afternoon and then get to making a delicious Lamp Poiki on Couscous for supper. Half of the group take a late night walk out to the salt pans where we hope to see some mammals other than cows, but sadly don’t have much luck other than seeing a few shooting stars. Magical none the less.
Day 4: We start of early the next morning to drive up to the River where Manfred sets out to look for a campsite while the others wait for him on the side of the road, where Owen stops a local farmer on his donkey to ask him if we can all take a ride on the donkey. All take their turn until it throws Gill of under a thorn tree and Manfred calls us down to the campsite. We set up camp and Owen, Nick and Manfred manage to build up an electrical shower on the banks of the river. Best shower with a view. Sadly cold tho.. But we are all too happy to see flowing water after all that dust and salt. We braai once again and settle in for the night. Still no exciting mammals..
Day 5: Once again, we start the morning with breakfast, packing up camp and hitting the road. We arrive in Maun shortly after and have a traumatic shopping tour until I decide to leave the chaos to hunt for lunch. Somehow I land up all on my own in the middle of hundreds of locals standing in line for “Pap and Njama” where I just about get abducted by a group of way to friendly young men and receive countless evil looks from dark corners. Mesina flashbacks, just without all the Polony.. I hold my head high though and stand in line like I own the place and let everyone know that my Dad is the “BIG GUY STANDING OUTSIDE WAITING FOR HIS LUNCH” (haha) and get the hell out of there.
We finally leave Maun and arrive at camp under the Tsodilo Hills. (Highest “mountains” in Botswana). We arrive late at camp so we only have time to make supper before everyone hits the sac. The next morning we hire a guide to take us up and around one of the four Hills, the “Female”, where we see a few interesting birds and the main attraction, the Bushmen rock paintings. After the four hour hike, we head back to camp, have showers, read and make bread out of scratch. Supper is stockbrot, roast BBQ chicken and stir fried veggies ( sounds more like a culinary trip we are on here..)
Day 6: We are glad to be leaving this particular camp in the morning for everything is covered and infiltrated by a fine, charcoal black dust that has been blown into every possible place. Mugs, clothes, sleeping bags, muesli boxes, nose howls and the like. We drive for two hours to our next camp which is pretty much as close to heaven as we can get. Set on one of the little rivers of the Okavango Delta, surrounded by lush greens and Banana trees, with monkey’s climbing around in the canopies above and crocs chilling in the water below. We set up camp, have lunch, chill, swim in the nearby pool and then set out for an evening cruse up the river by boat where we spot several kingfishers, 6 fish eagles, otters (!), bee eaters, hippos and elephant and much more bird life. We witness a stunning sunset on the river and arrive back at camp on time to make borewors rolls with Manfreds bread.
We have now reached Day 7 of our trip and arrived after a nice bacon and eggs breakfast for Owens Birthday at the border to Namibia. We have a long drive through a ( I am terrible with names) game reserve and finally arrive in Camp which is as beautifull as the last one. A little more extravagant maybe ;). We’ve had our swim in the pool and sit listening to hippos in the river just a few meters away from camp while we let the past couple of days sink in and look forward to heading over to Mamili tomorrow.
xxb
alive!
hello social contacts,
just a short one to let u know we r all still alive.
in maun in botswana at the moment, getting ready to hit the swamps today. having a lovely time camping under baobabs, seeing lots of bird wildlife (no mamals yet, only cows and sheep and a few hippos), braaing lots of lamb chops, making pap and listeing to jackals calling in the distance.
we spent two nights camping on the salt pans on kukonje island and then one night on the boteti river just outside maun. have been coping well, no dramas, too much food, owen even riged up a shower for the girls with changing cabin and everything at the river last night.
need to get away from the computer, 5 other family members are breathing down my neck waiting for the internet.
update as soon as possible!
xxb
just a short one to let u know we r all still alive.
in maun in botswana at the moment, getting ready to hit the swamps today. having a lovely time camping under baobabs, seeing lots of bird wildlife (no mamals yet, only cows and sheep and a few hippos), braaing lots of lamb chops, making pap and listeing to jackals calling in the distance.
we spent two nights camping on the salt pans on kukonje island and then one night on the boteti river just outside maun. have been coping well, no dramas, too much food, owen even riged up a shower for the girls with changing cabin and everything at the river last night.
need to get away from the computer, 5 other family members are breathing down my neck waiting for the internet.
update as soon as possible!
xxb
Hello!We did not expect it, but we found wifi!
Lets start from the beginning.
We get going at about 9am once all the different partys have gathered and said hello and gotten all the smal talk formal stuff over with. I jump into gill owen and abis car, in my place jumps one of the cook sisters and off we go. I cant speek for the others, but our bus was a joll :D
Exept for the explodes tire 1hour down the road.. But thanks to all the men, we get that dorted and are on the road again.
Party bus reloaded! At one time all four of us would stick their arms out and do that flying motion out of the window. When manfreds van takes over, they do the same. At the next chance we have to drive in front of them, we stick out our legs and do a sexy bicycle movement.. Only to be stopped and pulled over by cops..
"Hello baas. We see there are some people that want to jump out aw di car. Can we see the drivers liancence please. Yes bass. We have to fine the people that are jumping out aw di car."
Haha but we got out of it thanks to owens frienly talk with the locals and off we go again.
We stop over at a one horse town to have the most delessious breakfast with bacon and eggs, chips, hamburgers, stew, quiche and many more!!
We carry on to the boarder, only to discover that two of the south african canadians cannot criss the boarder because they only have temporary SA passports and had left all backup passports (as we all did) in PTA. Nervermind all sweet talk we went through, nothing helped and the canadian familily has to dribe back to pta to get the paasports and we carry on with marianne, the leader of the cook crew to celebrate her birthday under a baobab tree in botswana.
So we finaly arrive in botswana, with another friend of manfred (this man is getting in handy) agnus, who very kindly cooked an impala stew and rice for us, which we loade up into the car and have at a huge baobab under the stars with a campfire and gin n tonics, listening to the quiet hoots of an owl in the surrounding bush. With this stunning picture set in your minds, good night and untill we encoubter internet again.
Xx b
Getting Started
- Hello social contacts. The travelling Illenberger circus is on the road again! Who? The whole fam damily plus extras. Where? South Africa and beyond. Why? Good question.. Havent quiet figured it out yet either.. It all started with teenage children nagging about why mom and dad did all the exiting trips when we where to small to remember them. Next step was a little swop campers deal with Nik, a friend of Manfreds here in SA. Niks family will be using our camper in Germany and we have access to his here in SA. And so it all begins..
- Our basic itinerary will be: Starting in Pretoria Johannesburg, meeting up with family Gill Owen and young Abi, and close to family friends, the Cook crew. Then we will make our way up to Botswana travelling north-west, crossing over to Namibia/Caprivi Mamili Gama Reserve, then east back into Botswana and over the boarder into Zimbabwe passing Vic falls, then south to Borderridge farm Sentinel visiting Vanessa and Digby Bristow, and from there back south into southafrica, dipping into Kruger park on the way. In Pretoria we will spend some more time visiting friends and then fly down to port Elizabeth spending time with family in PE and J-Bay. After that we plan to drive down the Garden Route to cape town, where we will spend a short week visiting more friends. Manfred will fly home from Cape Town, the girls will fly to Durban to spend the last week on Gills farm in Hilton.
- Wow.. It all sounds slightly challenging.. It took a rough start with Manfred missing his connection flight due to a late take of because of weather conditions at Munich airport and developing a slight Stomach Bug which has been sorted out. Nevertheless, we have all safely arrived and are frantically trying to get some order into our plans. We have spent the last 4 days planing, drawing up lists, shopping (much to Manfreds delight), eating and seeing old friends and neighborhoods. We have reached our last evening in civilization and will be leaving for Bots border tomorrow morning 7am. (haha, lets see how long THAT plan lasts..)
- Otherwise.. well.. we might very definitely not have internet or any other form of telecommunication on our trip, and will possibly only be able to describe the whole course of the disaster at the end of this month. Until then, have fun imagining the chaos we are in.
Ah, and again, please ignore any typos and whateverelses you do not approve of in this blog.
xxb