I am sitting at home, unpacked, washing machine going merrily (with possible clogged pipes tomorrow, full of desert dunes), the dogs have now licked every available piece of skin they could find on my feet and legs, and the blurry photos have been deleted.
I know, I know, you’re thinking, what happened to Darling? Little known fact, I actually lived in Darling for years, and have a house there, where my mom lives. So I went to Darling, I just did not visit Evita. I forced my poor mom to sit through 1784 photos, which took me an hour to setup on the laptop as a slide show (and don’t be shaking your head now, we have all put poor unsuspecting souls through this same torture of a pictorial review of our just completed holiday!). Mom is 81. Ten photos later, she was yawning, and recalling when my Dad could not buy cool drink at the Lamberts Bay Hotel, because he was not wearing a tie. This was in 1950. And by photo 1531 she was actually nodding away.
She snapped right out of that again when I mentioned that my writing has been put on the internet. “How did you get it there?” she asked. Well, I have this dongle thing, it is like calling on a cell phone, but instead of using my voice, it sends text. “Yes, but how did you get it to land on the internet?” I emailed it to the office, and they pasted it on there. “No, that’s not possible, there’s no cable or aerial. So, how did you get it on there?” Ok, Mom, focus. My stuff was on the internet, don’t worry how I got it there. And people I don’t know read it. “How did they know to read it? Did somebody call them?”. Laugh all you want, you try and explain the internet, and wireless, and Facebook to somebody who worked in DOS years ago for two months! And now she wants to buy a laptop, so she can find recipes and needle point patterns on there. She can barely send an sms yet! I am keeping myself out of that little debacle!
Luckily, my brother is one of the people who actually read this, so there was no need to explain this to him. But he is actually a Mr Twitcher. He has 14.5 bird books and promptly downloaded all my photos, and is most probably sitting as we are speaking, identifying all the shots I took of avian life in the Kalahari! And he faithfully read my story every day: Hey Boet!
The recap done with the family I now sit and reflect on my absolutely Epic adventure.
I met some amazing, and odd people! The game spotters in the Kalahari, some from close, some from far, all were there with one purpose, to see wildlife. In each other or in the bush there are questions not fully answered yet, but still.
The two drunk Frenchmen, who took their lives in their own hands by getting out of their car next to lions, and to offer me drinkies, after I sat in the sun for three hours next to said Lions.
The people of Kenhard, who stepped into the 21st century, and had their first interracial wedding the evening I was there and let me tell you, it was a big makietie! I actually also met a true wildlife photographer, Hannes Lochner, from the back seat of a land cruiser, but still, I met the man, I saw his photos, and let me tell you, he actually lives permanently in the Kgalagadi. One can see that. Ok, I did not actually meet him per se, more like waved at him. He would not know me from a bar of soap!
Then the crazy kayak people from Khamkirri, who really fell with their career bums in the butter, seeing as they live right next to the river where they can practice and enjoy their passion! Kayaking you sickos!
One can say I nearly met Lord Milner’s wife. Thank goodness I did not! And one can say I nearly met the Polish space people as well, but seeing as they do it all remotely from Poland, also not.
I am very sure I met an Alien, but they wiped my memory after they did the tests and stuff, and concluded that there is intelligent life down here!
The seafood man from Lamberts Bay, the laughing locals in Brandvlei, farmer Jnr and his dog, the perpetually late gate keeper at Kgalagadi, the old man with the road phobias at Hyundai in Upington, and all in all, most of the road workers between Keimoes and Kakamas!
The places were a revelation, and yet strangely familiar! Perhaps because I have been to most of the places before but every time, is a new time with new sights and smells. I am still looking for the broken bottle of shampoo in my car, but the smell is apparently the Katbos and Kambroo bushes from the Karoo, and not shampoo! The Bullet and I traveled from Cape fold mountains, to flat stretches with bicycle warning signs, to deep red sand dunes, and flat salt pans, all with its own appeal and enough space to actually have a thought or two. We also had very nice acoustics, hence missing the V8 engine sounds for half a day! And I swear, the higher up in altitude one goes, the higher one can sing as well. I could reach that one spectacular note with Alphaville! A couple of times. And I am technically classified as a tenor, more like James Earl Jones after the ciggies and the vodka drinking from my youth. Like Rebroff in his hey day! But I hit that high note (also nearly popped a vein in the process)!
Animals. More Animals. The strange, the furry, the bald, the evil, the lazy and the funny! My personal heroes, officially, the fantastically brave suricates! They surpassed the wild dog, cheetah, and hyena in my affection now. No other animal poses as well for photos, pulls the weirdest faces, and just generally are soo busy, they don’t have time to just sit back and hide in bushes. Oh, and the Mice. Man, the smallest little things, but Braveheart is nothing compared to them. They should really paint their faces blue as well.
And the animals were not contained to the Kgalagadi. No, baboons at du Toits Kloof, rock hyraxes next to Tankwa Karoo, raptors on telephone lines all over, seagulls, and attacking Kelp Gulls on the coast, and I even saw a klipspringer close to Citrusdal. And not to mention the one gazillion locusts who bravely died, in full battalions, on a 100km stretch in the karoo.
I do hope the two frogs from Sutherland got the feeling back in their legs, after sleeping under me for a night.
Not to forget the livestock. Chicken, geese, donkeys, peacocks, sheep (different types as well) goats, dogs, cats, cattle, emus and some horses.
And then there was Damien. My friend, the narcissist, mirror crashing bat straight out of a Meatloaf song!
I think of doing a list of what I did see, I should perhaps note what I did not see!
My final thoughts after all this excitement: One should never go on holiday with big expectations. No place, person or event would ever be able to live up to that which one built up in the head. Expect to see a nice tree, that way, the crocodile hanging from the elephants tail, while singing karaoke, will be more visible under the tree!
One should always pack medicine, that way you won’t get sick while on holiday. It is when Murphy comes calling because you have no stomach remedies, or flu medicine that things become a little on the uncomfortable side.
Prepare for the coldest ever, and think summer holiday. It takes double the space in the car, but, you won’t be caught wrapped up in your beach sarong, beach towel, oil rag and three pairs of jeans, with dishtowels around the feet, and having to shove your hands into live coals to get some heat going!
Don’t look for the big things. Keep the eyes open, the imagination running, and make up stuff in your head!
And watch out for Aliens, ghosts, and all things that can make an appearance in a Spielberg film.
(And note to self, I watch way too many movies!)
Things I have learnt:
I need to take more leave.
Unusually, after a stint like this, I do not regret not going to work for San Parks. If I did, I would still be there, and not be able to tell anybody any off this, as it would be every day. This way, I could tell everybody about my Epic Adventure, ad nauseum (the Latin rears its ugly head again).
Bullet is not a 4×4.
My tops become shorter, the more I eat! I am practically wearing a boob tube today!
And I have the coolest job of all times! I can go do stuff like this, write about it, have people go oe and aah, and still have a job when I come back!
I am back at work, broke and heart sore. But in my dreams I am running with the cheetah, lying on sand dunes, and driving a rally car on a deserted stretch of a two lane dirt track through the Karoo. With not a care in the world. In my dreams I am strapped to the roof of a Landrower, and some khaki clad Marlboro man is calling me Ms Slovakia!
In my dreams…..
( Hene, all dramatic ne!)
Please contact me on firstname.lastname@example.org for any information on the 9 Day, Cape Town to Cape Town, Karoo, Kalahari and West Coast Tour, we would love to have you on board with us!
No, seriously, one would assume that the small folk in the bush would stand together and protect each other from the large, vicious ugly ones like the lion, cheetah, and Hyena (have I mentioned the Brown Hyena? Nanananana…). But Nooooo, they are like the final days of the Roman Empire, back stabbing, scheming, murderous little bastards, all of them!
I am driving along, as one does in the Kalahari, and spot a lovely serene looking Tawny Eagle, perched (see, English getting much better) on a Sociable Weavers nest. Now one would assume he is the large predator in this little band of robbers. But wait, next thing a Pigmy Falcon swoops in and starts attacking him! And with every dive bomb it does, it makes the sound equal to, or actually surpassing the London air raids of WW2! Poor Tawny, sitting there minding his own business does not attack back, it does not defend itself. It sits there like the big eagle he is, and takes it! Now one can understand the Falcon’s conundrum as he gets free room and board and very nice fat snakes from the sociable weavers in return for protecting the nest. And he was most probably fearing a horses head on his pillow the next morning, one can not break a contract with the Don. So, yes, he should have at least put some attempt into it, to show Joey times 200 that he does NOT want a Horse head on his pillow. But this over the top display of ferocious mental determination from the Pigmy Falcon would have won WW2 in three months! With no sirens needed!
But it does not stop there. Three Kestrels (small little raptors really, not even worth the word raptor, more like raptits) attack a dove. That symbol of peace, of flying out over wedding guests, of lily white breasts, and serene smiles. Two of the Kestrels tear it apart (PG rating please) from different directions. Then the third also wants his share, so they divide it again. It was blood and feathers, an aerial blood fest, over in seconds. With one lonely feather drifting sadly to the ground the only testament of the peace that reigned over the valley before the attack of the Hitchcock Kestrels!
But oh wait, there’s more! If you call now, I will tell you all about the two striped mice. You know, those cute little kite surfers? They are basically just cannon fodder for Goshawks. It is like wholesale slaughter! I get all exited, with the sighting of a Goshawk, on the ground, and before I can grab my camera to get a nice shot of this pretty Raptor, it takes off, with one of the cutie mice clutched in its Talons! Well, as they say, one mouse in the Talon is better than two in the pocket! But knowing these Goshawks like I now do, chances are he has three chained to his nest already, and every time he brings in a new catch, he taunts them all with promises of torture and mayhem! Fodder I tell you!
But the pinnacle of atrocity must surely be the hour and a half standoff in the dunes. Not lions stalking Springbok, not cheetah on the hunt, nooo, it is the bloody Goshawks again! A family of Suricates left their hole digging (for sleeping purposes) a little too late. So while the three adults industrially try to find hard ground (sand dunes have a tendency to cave in on your head, or so I am told) to dig in, three itty bitty babies frolic about in the grassy knolls. But, like the shooter in the observatory, or behind the grassy knoll, the Goshawk stalks, in slow sweeping circles. The next thing, the Chief Suricate starts making the most distressing warning sound ever heard. Even compared to the aforementioned air raid sirens! Babies make a beeline for mom, adults pop up like Jack in the Boxes, and general pandemonium ensues. It is babies tripping over each other, and adults running so fast in circles, that tail hairs are still fluttering over Kalahari dunes. And Mom is the only one who keeps her head, and stands ready, hind legs splayed, arms out in front of her, to repel the deadly attack from above! And evil goshawk swoops in! Chaos. They run, they stop, turn around, run again, mom spits and screams, and babies try to burrow into her stomach, and one adult furiously tries to make the dune sand hole stay a hole, but the more he digs, the more it caves in. Now I am standing with my window facing this whole drama! So, when they start running forward, I have to slam on reverse. But I am hanging half body out the window, so basically have to steer with my knees. And get Bullet into reverse with the toes of my left foot, while looking through the view finder, as all of this must happen. Blue Bullet at some point took matters into it’s own hands, or steering, so to speak, and just tried to stay in a straight line. But making things more intricate, is the fact that I have two other cars surrounding this attempted kill sight, one being the Sri Lankan man and his 5 kids, wife and mother in the vehicle. He basically put his 3 year old behind the steering wheel, in order to get his NASA built lens out the window. The other car had an American woman behind the wheel, and she apparently missed the obvious full frontal attack from the Goshawk and was still viewing this scene as a pastoral peaceful little tableau! So, from steering with my knees, changing gears with my big toe, hanging out of the window, for an hour and a half, shouting instructions to the American to WATCH THE DAMN HAWK BEHIND YOU and at the 3 year old, to move, Bullet is coming in, taking about 300 photos, I can STILL not feel my legs, my back is in a spasm type cramp, akin to paralysis. The Suricates now had to contend with a Blue danger, reversing over dunes and a Gemsbok, two Leopards, and 9 kite mice (well, the amount of bumps, and blue sky photos only clearly indicates that something died, and it was not a Suricate). Mom finally got the troops together, got two to dig, ran back to the first nearly successful attempt at a hole, 2 km back, and kept babies under her the whole time! Horrible Goshawk tried three more times, and was repelled! Way to go Suricate woman you! I am woman, can make fire and defend against Goshawk!
Meanwhile, I am scarred for life, the Sri Lankan Kids are still hiding under grandma’s armpit, and 3 year old now has visions of Le Mans! Oh, and American Lady, was crying through half of it! Either because Bullet reversed over sensitive vegetation, and or Gemsbok, leopard and Mice, or because the underdog won! Well, rather, the under Suricate.
Moving over to a Mongoose of a different colour! A couple of nights ago, a slender mongoose stole a whole piece of chicken from my neighbours, the new friends from my valley. We all thought he would disappear behind the closest bush, and finish the chicken, but strangely not. He runs about half way into the park, with the chicken in hand, or rather, in mouth (in hand was the Ground Squirrel who also stole a whole toasted sandwich, pretty much at the same time, but it was way too heavy to clutch in his mouth, so he was running at breakneck speed, with the sandwich clutched in one hand, dragging behind him). So, we then amend the story, and think shame, he is feeding a whole household, and wifey told him not to show up empty handed, or mouthed for another night. So he was running home with his treasure, to appease wife, and feed kids. This story made us happy. But, being a typical male, his true colours came shining through! He sits blankly staring into space, on a braai step platform thing. The next moment, a female comes running in, looking over her shoulder. He calmly steps off the platform, grabs her by the arse ( BIG PG rating please) sits down with his hind legs stretched out and proceeds to, well, hmmm, make tender love to her, while sitting on his bum, with no tender words or flowers! Again small little fellow, one would think that he would be done in about 1 minute flat. Again, surprise! He goes on, and on, and on! Humping away. At one point, he even stares up at the sky, in case some eagle or whole piece of chicken should fall on his head! But, girly got her own back. When he finally gets done, she turns around, and whacks the living chicken out of him. And not a woozy open palm smack, she clobbered him over the head!
This of course lead to a very long debate as to the purpose of the stolen chicken. Andre and Maritza, the new friends from the valley, recon he used this as a “gunsie”, to get her more amenable to some action! And what a cheap little She Mongoose! To fall for it! Granted, with no food in the Kalahari, and only small lizards and small folk to eat, I see her point. A piece of chicken for her is like a trip to India, a dip in the Ganges, and a free spa makeover for us. I would have considered the offer. Or maybe she is an emancipated Mongoose, and did it for free! Just because she wanted to!
Well, he is now known as The Neanderthal Man.
Meanwhile, it is baby time in the park. Hene. Baby Cape Fox, baby Springbok, baby Black backed jackal, baby Ostrich (classic, Mom takes a sand bath and leaves dada to check the chicks, which he does, but very nervously!), baby Suricate, baby Blue Wildebeest, baby everything! Cute man.
So, final count:
Lion ( did I mention, 5 of them, at sunrise, on a red dune. Two big black maned males)
Cheetahs. Last count about 9. Yee, ne na na ne na!!
Brown Hyena. Again as above.
Suricates plus babies.
Springbok plus babies
Blue wildebeest, plus babies
Red Hartebeest, only their bums.
Pale chanting Goshawk. Miserable pieces of …..
Possible Dark chanting Goshawk.
Two men who saw two leopards.
Tawny eagle, plus immature
Two drunk Frenchmen.
Stanley’s bustard ( stuffed in the Twee rivieren restaurant)
Two striped mice
Ag demit, I cant remember all!
Another tip for the weary traveler, make lists of what you see!
Oh, I forgot the tortoise. After seeing about 20 000 signboards to say, please drive careful, and don’t drive over Tortoises, I started to believe that the boards went up a day too late, and they were all killed. Most probably by other small Folk. Pecked to bits! Thrown onto sharp rocks to break the shells. But, I saw one!
I am very sad to leave this amazing park, and will treasure and recount, and retell the stories for years to come!
I made some friends, saw some deep sheeeet, and learnt again, to sweat the small stuff.
Cherio red dunes!
Don’t miss your piece of the action, find out more about our 9 Day, Karoo, Kalahari and West Coast Tour here!!
Nomad’s Operations Manager, Tosca Korver, has dangerously been let out of the office to get a closer look at our new tour route, the 9 Day, Karoo, Kalahari and West Coast Tour (Cape Town to Cape Town). Don’t miss out on her epic adventures right here!
From the Road…. Day 1
It was a Massacre!! I left a blood trail from Cape Town to Sutherland! I am so depressed at the moment, drinking a plastic cup of Beyerskloof red, and hope that tomorrow the small animal life will please STAY OUT OF MY WAY!! It started with a Cisticola (little bird) that went Kamikaze on me, and flew into the side of my car! Then, of course it is apparently locust migration season in the Northern Cape, so, yes, quite a few colonies were wiped out by my 2×2 wheels. And then, the Leopard Tortoise, that, not at the speed of light, in fact, at no speed at all, crawled across the road on some unnamed pass. That one I missed, but nearly rolled my car in the attempt, seeing as the Leopard tortoise is on the endangered species list. I think. And then, of course, the snake! Seriously, it should not be on a 45km per hour road. Where I drove 30km per hour, as I was trying to capture the spectacular view from the Observatory Mountain! Not sure if I hit that one, but I think the tail might be something of the past now.
And this was NOT due to reckless driving, or lack of attention! They all just seemed to brim over with a lust for death!
Anyhow, that being said, what a fantastic day. My first vacation leave in yonks (and when I say Yonks, I mean, since the advent of electricity type of Yonks), so the first three hours was of course taken up with thoughts of work, and what did I forget. Then I ran into the Bikers club from Cape Town. At the wimpy about 5km outside of Cape Town(I was hungry, OK), and they seemed to be in such a high spirit for their bike trip (possibly to the Tygerberg Zoo and back) that I also promptly got into the spirit of the Epic adventure!
Du Toit Kloof tunnel, as always, gave me a moment of hesitation. I am not the type to be driving blithely underneath a couple of tons of mountain, and not be worried. But that 4km went past without a ton of bricks coming down on my head ( SA Engineers, ne!). I was very tempted to stop at every farm stall, and trout fishing stop, but managed to contain myself, until I saw the sign post for the Ostrich farm just past Touws River!
Ag cute man! Did a lovely 40 min tour there, with Bob, the Ranger, from Zimbabwe nogal. And low and behold, Bob knows Nomad very well, as he recalls our trucks pulling into Vic Falls when he was still living there.
That bonding session later, I fell back on the road again, looking for Matjiesfontein. Now, it must be said that I have been there before! A couple of times, but strangely, I couldn’t find it this time. Possibly because it has a population of like 3. And is more like a thought of a town, than a metropolis. I eventually pulled off at a truck rest stop, to check my map, to see if perhaps I did not drive past, and was speedily on my way to the Lebombo border to Mozambique (but I do carry my passport, so it would not have been a train smash, except for the 2000km round trip part). 15km later, I stumbled into Matjiesfontein. Originally founded by some Scott, and his wife, the whole town has been declared a national monument. And one can see why. Strangely, it reminds me a lot of Pilgrims rest in its hay day, with clapboard houses, and staff in colonial dress. The Museum was closed, temporarily, as the caretaker had to go to the bathroom, just as I arrived. So I meandered over to the bar, and met the Character of Matjies! He grabbed me by the scruff of the neck, pulled me inside and gave me an impromptu tour of Lord Milner’s home. Or lord somebody. (Sorry, I was not really listening that well, as I was too busy looking at the amazing range of weird and wonderful old time furniture!
It seems that my casual tour guide, is actually a jack of all trades, who can play piano ( which he did, bowler hat and all), and a standup comic! He showcased the performance he did on a SA standup comic television show, and if I must say so, he was rather good with his Madiba impression. If it was not for the beer gut, I would have thought I was in the presence of the big man himself!
I took my leave of Mr. Piano man, after he issued an invite to any Nomad group arriving, that he will take them on a 5 minute drive through tour of the town in the old London bus, and found the Museum caretaker back from her bathroom break. And not a tooth in her mouth, but mouthy is a good way to describe her! Fantastic! So, she showed me around, and then she had another urgent call from nature (I know, I also started worrying about the state of the food there). And there I found myself, abandoned in the cellar/basement, dungeon of the museum. Now, as my mom would say in Afrikaans “Ek is nie met die Helmet gebore nie, maar hier kan ek voel spook dit vanaand” ( Translated, I was not born with Du Bois ESP Ghost detection built in, but even I can say that here the ghosts are running free). I felt a cold chill running down my spine, and absolute deathly hollow quiet! Not to throw away my name as a fearless type, I exited the basement at a brisk pace. I did not run.
I suspect that lady caretaker might actually not exist on this astral plain? Maybe she is a manifestation of the slave of the Scott? Halihaaaaa!!!
And just before I jumped in my car, to make haste out of Ghost town, my tour guide from the bar shows up, and shows me a photo taken just the previous week, of him, with a ghostly apparition in the back ground!
Matjiesfontein. A town for all souls, lost or not!
Then, the next 110km to Sutherland. This is where I truly felt I was in theKaroo! Tectonic plate moment that shifted mountains clear out of the sockets, flat ground in between, the occasional raptor ( this route is known as the raptor route, by the way, for those avid bird watchers), and pretty much nothing else. Breathtaking, abandoned piece of land that just shows the magnificence that is South Africa. Ok, enough waxing lyrical! I drove on a deserted tar road and saw some pretty amazing Karoo flowers, birds, and the occasional swarm of locusts. Biblical I tell you!
Sutherland has a population of 2000. I know this because it said so on the sign board at the beginning of town where I realized that I just drove past my camp site for the evening!! But, with a population of 2000, one can make a U-turn, with no traffic in either direction.
I popped in at the SAAO ( the South African Astrological organization?) or some such. And, managed to procure a star gazing tour for the Saturday evening, using SALT! No, no tequila drinking. It is the largest telescope in the Southern Hemisphere. So, one thing set at least, I am going back in the morning for a proper tour, and info session with the powers that be. But, meanwhile the friendly owner of Southerland Caravan Park will give a star gazing tour tonight, through the telescope here at the camp site! Pretty neat!
So, in order to kill some time, I made a fire. Well attempted to make a fire. I cannot see now, through the snot and tears, and also have to restock on Paper plates in the morning. Used them all to keep the wood burning. But it is finally crackling away, the sheep went home to bed (yes, sheep, next to the camp site. Very pastoral, Breughal kind of scene), and my toes are freezing!
All in all a very good day. Except now for all the deaths and dead people. I saw some spectacular scenery, visited two lovely towns, saw an Ostrich and an Emu, O, and a sheep, and managed to start a fire with paper plates and wet wood!
Epic I tell you!
To pre-empt Tosca’s next day on the road and see where she’s going – have a look at the Karoo, Kalahari and West Coast Tour itinerary!