Читать книгу Your Kruger National Park Guide - With Stories - Frans Rautenbach - Страница 15

Principle Four: You are not alone

“It is 5.30 in the morning. Two guys – both with bare hairy stomachs and towels around their middles – run into each other at the shaving mirror in the bathroom. They don’t know each other from a bar of soap.

“Morning…”

“Morning…”

“Looks like a nice day, don’t you think?”

Number two pulls his upper lip tight as the blade rasps over it. The men’s voices echo in the open area.

His companion scratches his grey chest hair. “Ja, it will probably be hot as hell this afternoon.”

Water falls in the shower stall next door, steam billowing until it’s blocked by the high thatched roof.

“Are you on your way, or are you staying over?”

The first guy rinses his shaving brush. The soap smells sweet, and mixes with the odour of carbolic acid and tar.

“No, we’re on our way to Satara. And you?”

“Yes, we’re also on our way – to Letaba… Have you been up north this year?”

“Ja, we came through Shingwedzi way. We haven’t seen such large herds of buffalo for ages.”

“And lions?”

“No, not there. But if you’re on your way to Letaba, you may be lucky. About 10 kilometres on the other side of Tshokwane there was a pride of 15 lions feeding on a giraffe yesterday. It looked like they’d be there for a while…”

And with that he says goodbye.”

Howard, shipshape for the new day (N’wanetsi, 1970)

Visitors to the game reserve have a common purpose: to see as much game as possible. Thousands of people want to see lions and leopards just as much as you do. And there are definitely people who can provide you with information that may help. But you need to maintain a fine balance. Don’t run after every titbit.

Remember the animal kingdom is a dynamic business. The lions that lay feeding on the Tshokwane road this morning could have headed off long ago. The prey of the leopard along the Sabie River may still be hanging in the tree since yesterday – but the leopard has long gone. Use your common sense. Don’t deviate from a well thought-out plan to travel a specific route just because the old guy by the hot water kettle said he saw a cheetah crossing the Satara road the day before. Cheetahs cross that road every day – and many other roads too. It normally takes only a minute or two. Stick to your plan.

The same applies to the sightings map where tourists insert coloured pins to indicate where they’ve seen certain species during the day. Don’t change your daily plan simply because wild dogs were seen on this or that road. Wild dogs easily move 30 kilometres in a single day.

On the other hand, it might well be possible that if a pride of 15 lions caught a giraffe earlier that day, they will still be there later and perhaps even the following day.

And another thing: enjoy the road you’re on. Don’t think of what might possibly be happening on another road where other tourists are – they’ll be thinking the same thing. Focus on your plan for the day.

There’s nothing as exciting as cresting a hill or rounding a bend and seeing a large number of cars glimmering in the sun, some parked at weird angles and in seemingly impossible positions. Then you can know, almost for certain: cats.

Nothing excites tourists as much as predators, especially if there is prey involved. And rightfully so. One of the dividends of the do-the-miles principle is that people often simply point the game out to you. Don’t hesitate to ask people what it is they’ve seen. In that respect the game reserve gets the best out of people. Most tourists will go out of their way to help you see what they’ve seen – and will explain it to you in the finest detail: “See that dry tree running down at an angle? Well, right at the base are two bright green shrubs. And between them is a brown rock. Except it isn’t a brown rock….”

One of the dilemmas you will face is what to do when you see a single parked car. To ask or not to ask? I suggest you first observe what they’re doing.

One year my dad and I travelled between Satara and Tshokwane. Along the way we saw small blue waxbills playing in a thorny bush next to the road, and we stopped to watch. A car with a middle-aged woman at the wheel pulled up.

“What are you looking at?” she asked.

“Sysie …” my dad hissed through his teeth, using the Afrikaans word for a waxbill.

“Sy’s hier?” she replied (“She’s here?”). “What? A lioness?” she asked hopefully.

“Sysie …” my father hissed again. This time he pointed at it.

With a roar of her engine and a screech of tyres she pulled away. We were still laughing 10 minutes later when we spotted a real lioness at the side of the road.

Some game reserve-goers are really interested in birds. Others simply sit and listen to the bush. Some consult the road map or have some coffee from their thermos flasks. Nowadays people make cellphone calls. Then again, visitors can barely contain themselves when they really see something exciting, especially predators. They sit with binoculars glued to their eyes, gesticulate frantically to each other and often to other tourists, take photographs, chatter loudly or shout excitedly. You will know.

Before you ask what they’re seeing and risk making a fool of yourself, look around carefully. People will probably offer to tell you what they see. What works is to drive closer, wind down your window and smile or nod in a friendly way to the people in the other car. You will learn that this is how people in the game reserve behave. Urbanites who normally wouldn’t give each other the time of day, have the time and the inclination to greet others and often stop to talk.

I suspect it has to do with getting away; the pleasure of simply being here. It’s a bit like being in love – you want to share your joy with everyone. You will find people are invariably courteous, yield to let others go ahead, or make room once they’ve seen what there is to see. The point is, chances are good that once you open your window to say “hi”, people will tell you there’s a lion in the long grass. Or just – somewhat bashfully – smile because they’re lost. Or indicate they’ve seen a lovely specimen of sysie...

Another reason to look carefully when stopping beside a stationary car is that the occupants may perhaps see something interesting but believe it’s so obvious it isn’t necessary to point it out.

We once stopped near Satara, alongside a number of other cars and the kids screamed: “There’s a cheetah!” As I habitually do, I let my eyes scan the plains from left to right (experienced old hunter, me). But the cheetah was nowhere to be seen.

It turned out the creature was sitting bolt upright on top of a giant anthill, not five metres from us, exploring the surroundings for prey – its tall, thin silhouette so well camouflaged that to my tired eyes it became the anthill’s sharp summit.

Of course, nothing is better than achieving your own sighting: your “own” leopard or lion. If you can, tell someone coming past – they’ll be just as keen to see it as you are. And if you do the miles, I promise it will happen sooner or later.

It happened to me one year, when I’d escaped on my own for a weekend and entered the park via Malelane...

I was hot, tired and a little dejected – and what’s more, I hadn’t yet secured a bed for the night. But as I rounded the bend there they were in front of me – on both sides of the road: wild dogs playing among the big round rocks.

Some were stretched out in the late afternoon sun, the pups growling at each other, clambering over the adults. Their coats – black and biscuit-brown topped with white tails – blended into the colours of the bush and rocks. I tried to count them but there were just too many…

I sat in wonder for 15 magical minutes – alone, yes, but with a heart as light as the bushveld air.

Other people also see their “own” animals. You’ll be surprised how often – especially on remote roads away from heavy traffic – approaching motorists will gesture to you to stop, and then explain that there was something to be seen further down the road. It’s often worth pursuing. Many people will even give you the precise kilometre reading to where the sighting was. It’s difficult to describe your sense of gratitude when that happens – especially if you haven’t seen anything yet.

Where you can, repay this favour.

You are not alone.