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Astounding Africa 2007: Capetown, The Cape and Kwa Maritane Game Reserve
March 28, 2007 Wednesday:
Sawubona! (Greetings!)
Today Bill and Blake and I leave on a life-changing journey to Africa ! We depart from JFK aboard South African Airways en route to Dakar , Senegal , the closest point in Africa to America on the Northwest coast, just 6 hours away from New York . Here we re-fuel and change crews. The SAA crew is attentive and soft-spoken. They realize that people want to rest and they honor that.
It's another 7 hours to Johannesburg from Dakar . Blake is doing just great and is spending his time alternating between sleeping and reading magazines.
In Johannesburg we have a 4-hour layover so we go up to the Virgin Airways Premium Lounge which is a really modern, cool place to hang. We feel like we're in an Austin Powers movie as we load up on snacks and free magazines in this PHEnom of a mod pod. Oh, beHAVE!
After 16 hours total travel time from NY, we arrive in Capetown at about 11pm African time. Since our body clocks have been messed with, we're not tired yet. Arthur, our
guide, picks us up at the airport and the 14 of us in our group board the bus for the 30 minute trip to the 4-star Commodore Hotel 2 blocks from the V & A Waterfront. (Named after Queen Victoria and her son Alfred).
We tour the outside courtyard and Blake takes one look at the patio and the pool and declares that he loves it here; it reminds him of Hawaii . Hurrah! We're off to a good start. There's hundreds of trailing white double roses in bloom, which look beautiful against the grey stone walls of the nautical-themed hotel. Bill and I decide to have a glass of South African wine to unwind, while Blake opts for the all-day breakfast—which he hoovers up in no time (save the baked beans). It's so good to be back in Capetown!
Since the rooms are a bit small for three people, we decide to take advantage of a glitch in the booking—and two members of our group kindly offer their “extra” room so they can room together and I could have a separate room from the guys. Now Blake won't have to sleep on a cot—and showering in the mornings will be much easier to maneuver—brilliant! My room overlooks the pool and the bed is as comfy as I've ever experienced. I sleep like a dead man in France . A couple of doors down, Bill and Blake stay up until the oui small hours watching movies.
We sleep in until about 10, narrowly missing the breakfast spread, and hire a taxi to Table Mountain , which looms over Capetown like a gigantic benevolent shadow. After a 30-minute wait in the queue we zoom up the mountain in a very fast gondola to have a look around. The floor revolves so that everyone gets a good look on the way up, but it's a bit disconcerting to not be able to hold onto the railings while we scale the mountain. Nervous giggles all around.
At the top, we dismount to have a look around. And what a look! 360 degree views of the coastline and city! We look around for the rock rabbits called dassies—the little rodents with the big long teeth who look like rabbits but are actually ancestors of elephants. They have sticky little paws with which to climb the rocks. Sadly, they're all in hiding this morning, but we shan't leave Africa without seeing one. (see: Boulder Beach entry, to come ).
After a nice hike, in which we encounter lots of lizards that look like Blake's bearded dragon pets Lizzy and Izzy; dozens of species of protea flowers-- and that stunning coastline all the way up to Durban and down to the Cape of Good Hope-- we settle in for some lunch. The air up here is fresh and one can really get a feel for the part of the earth one's visiting from this vantage point.
It's time to go, or we'll miss the bus for the Capetown International Jazzfest, now in its 8 th year of existence, and ranked #4 on the list of the world's best festivals. Right up there with Montrose, Montreux and Montreal ! It's also called “ Africa 's Grandest Gathering” and we're about to find out why. A lotta talented folks turn up for this event!
It should be a quick 5 minute ride from the hotel to the Capetown Convention Center but since so many people have jammed the city for the festival, it takes about 20 minutes. Even so, we arrive a few minutes before the doors open, to avoid standing in long lines.
 Once inside the Convention Center, we buy tokens for food and drink and head outside for an open-air meal. Sated, we head back inside and select the smallest venue of 5 to begin our musical journey. It has the comfiest seats, the most attentive audience, and the best acoustics. It's called “Moses Mololekwa”.
The lights dim and onto the stage walks an elegant man with black, curly shoulder-length hair in a long-tailed tux jacket. He bows, and seats himself at the grand piano. He is Diego Amador, the pride of Spain , and he plays the piano for what it is—a percussion instrument. Flourishes and stings and castanet bursts punctuate his solo performance in which all the colors of Spain are made apparent.
Next, a bass player and drummer accompany him on stage, and the trio goes to work. Now Diego pulls a microphone toward his mouth and he starts to sing softly….then builds tempo and volume as the music progresses. Now chanting, now wailing, an ancient indigenous cry leaves his lips as his left hand walks and his right hand stings. This very unique performance leaves us refreshed and ready for more.
We head upstairs to the venue called “Bassline” where we score a great table—and some glow sticks! This MAKES Blake's night and we indulge in glow stick sword fights and dancing for the rest of the night. Blake looks up at me and says “Let's fight and dance at the same time!” and this is the African spirit altogether, so we do. J
We move to the middle of the venue for the rest of the set from the African group Rudimentals. Everyone's moving to the beat and Blake is loving life, jump-roping and playing Hans Solo with his glow sticks. There's a slight political edge to this music, but it's mostly just a good-feeling jam with easy rhythms and that sweet-tempered Cape Sound that takes your cares away. After an hour or so, it's time for Joe Sample's set so we head downstairs.
“Kippies” is the largest venue, with seats in the back and a huge area for standing and dancing in front of the stage. We take our places about in the middle of the crowd and wave our glow sticks madly when the great Joe Sample takes the stage. Bill makes sure that Blake listens carefully when Joe displays his chops on a blues tune dedicated to the stride players of New Orleans . Joe is so facile on the keys it's hard to believe he has health concerns offstage. His playing is nothing short of superb.
Now he plays a tune just for her--and Randy Crawford joins him onstage, with a smile as big as the sun. Her voice is in fine shape this evening; round and full and tremulous, with a certainty in her intent and smoothly-executed phrasing that's uniquely hers on “Happiness is Just a Thing Called Joe.”
A highlight is “Rio De Janiero Blue” in which the crowd joins her word for word, and trill for trill. After “I'll Fly Away” Randy comments: “You all are so beautiful to sing with me like that. We don't always get that. And it really means something to us to be received like this. Thank you!”
The set is a mellow and melodic one…with tunes like “Spellbound” sprinkled in, and even a Billie Holiday tune, which Randy makes her own. All too soon, the set is over, and people are roaring for more. Randy returns to the stage for a slowed-down, jazz-flavored version of “Street Life” that takes the crowd by storm.
Ladysmith Black Mombazo now takes the stage with a home-field advantage. How these gentlemen can still kick their heels over their heads and still manage to sing in perfect harmony is one of life's eternal mysteries. Their set is so mesmerizing, an hour flies by in what seems like mere minutes, and it's time for some Average White Band. (You know the old saying: The Average White Band is… neither. J ) They play their old-school hearts out and somehow sound better here in this setting than I've ever heard them sound before. There's just something about the spirit of this place that urges performers to bring their A-game.
I'll never forget Roberta Flack on this stage in 2005, returning for encore after encore—and then screaming at the top of her lungs, over and over, “CAPETOWN! CAPETOWN! CAPETOWN!” This place does that to you.
We have a tired little boy on our hands who's been dancing and swordfighting for hours on end. He needs to go have a meal and some rest, so we head for the bus. We all agree on sushi, and head to the V & A waterfront and a place called Belthazar and belly up to the sushi bar. After dinner, on our walk back to the hotel, I note with pleasure that the moon is nearly full for our upcoming safari.
The beginning of the continent
A most fantastic day! We've hired a driver named Daryl-- the son of two Baptist ministers and a devoted man of books—to take us on a scenic drive down the coast. We begin on the Atlantic side, driving past massive cliffs and some of the most pristine white sand beaches on earth. Just glorious! Bill thinks it's reminiscent of Monaco .
Daryl is not only a driver, but has taken it upon himself to compose an entire itinerary for our day. The first stop is at “World of Birds”, which more than lives up to its name.
Over 3000 species of birds who are being re-habbed are living here until they can safely return to the wild. Their colors are dazzling to the eye; their odd features and bright feathers has Blake nearly out of his mind with excitement, and our camera was virtually snapping itself. There are numerous circular walks to take to visit particular species, and an area where the birds are “loose” and were flying all around us. Kestrels, eagles, peacocks, vultures, all kinds of talking parrots and parakeets! Some all lined up on a single branch huddled close together like a choir. So much squawking and SO much to see!
We duck our way through the flying squadrons, banishing all thoughts of the Hitchcock flick “The Birds”. In addition to all these squawking machines, there are spider monkeys, lemurs, baboons with HUGE bright pink butts (really gross!) and even a wild bush boar. Blake thinks it would be funny to take an Ipod up to the baboons and play the song “I like Big Butts”for them. Charming. (The reason the baboon butts are SO engorged is because the females are in oestrus-- or heat-- at this particular time. Lucky us).
Needless to say, “World of Birds” is a slam-dunk, and later Blake tells us that this was his favorite part of the trip. Well done, Daryl. Blake even scores a cup of ice cream here with sprinkles and smarties mixed in. If you have kids, this is a must-do.
We drive a few more miles south, and then Daryl spots some camels at the side of the road and hits the brakes. At first, Blake is adamant that he's getting nowhere near those guys. Their caretaker, a wonderfully patient and kind man by the name of
Johan, who was born to work with children and camels, gently takes Blake by the hand and lets him stroke the hair on the camel's nose. Getting a bit braver, Blake also agrees to take the comb Johan offers him and combs some of “Izu's” hair.
At this point, I'm thinking maybe if I ride first, Blake will come around, so I hop into the saddle. Camels have a tough time standing with a human on their backs, so they need to do it in stages. They kneel on one knee; then the other, and finally with a great last lurch (where you have to lean back in the saddle while pushing forward with your feet in the stirrups) they finally make it up to the standing position. Ta DA! (Horn burst here).
It's a bit high up when you're riding a camel…a nice view if ever there was one. I find it a quite pleasant and relaxing point of view, but am a little hesitant about the dismounting process, envisioning a forward somersault over Izu's neck into the scrub grass. (After all, “Izu” is Zulu for “laughter”). However, Johan makes it so easy that the downward lurch to the ground is only scary for a nanosecond. Johan then encourages Blake to watch Izu swallow its cud and further get to know the animal. At long last, he gets Blake to agree to sit in the saddle, with Izu lying down.
After we take a shot of Blake on the camel, Johan magically gets Blake to stay put and agree to ride—hurrah! Blake looks a bit majestic high up in the saddle, framed by mountains and eucalyptus trees. It's not every day you get to say you've ridden a camel in Africa, and this will make for a great entry in his Ugly Doll journal.
The dismount is terror-free thanks to Johan, who insists that Blake immediately redeem his “Certificate for Extreme Bravery” so he can hereafter have official bragging rights. Bill's up next—on a different camel—and he looks like the natural cowboy he is making his rounds in the saddle. (He probably could have bare-backed, come to think of it).
We can't linger, because there's so much yet to see today. We thank Johan and hit the road again. Next stop— Houk Bay —a sweet little seaside town opposite Chapman's Peak. Here we board a boat for Seal Island , which is a truly spectacular destination. We float through a fog bank, and when we emerge there are thousands of harbor seals leaping out of the sea, playing with each other, lolling on the rocks taking sunbaths and even “surfing” the waves! It's “Baywatch” for seals! J
These slippery pups really know how to live. We spend about 15 minutes at various spots surrounding the island taking in all their antics. Blake befriends some other kids and watches the show with great delight. The ride back is along the spectacular coastline of Chapman's Peak—which is our next destination. Blake has a rest in Bill's in arms on the lower deck on the way back.
The 17 meter drive on the Chapman's Peak scenic roadway is truly breathtaking. Construction began in 1921 and was completed in 1928. Trying to describe the swirling turquoise waters & ice-white beaches below is impossible, so hopefully our photos will be worth a thousand words. It reminds me of what Frank Zappa once said: “Writing about music is like dancing about architecture.” One just can't convey how beautiful this part of the world is to those who haven't experienced it.
 Next stop—The Cape of Good Hope. I feel like I'm entering the pages of my 3rd grade history book just seeing the signs for this legendary area. This is the southern-most tip of Africa—where the Indian and Atlantic oceans meet. It is here that the fabled “Flying Dutchman” ship met its demise rounding the Cape so long ago. People here swear that even today that when there's a lightning storm, they can make out the outline of the phantom ship over the waves in the distance. Who are we to doubt them?
We were warned by Erica in our group, who was here yesterday, to bring jackets because it's often foggy here and blowing like a son-of-a-gun, but this day is remarkably calm and balmy at ‘the place where the continent begins'. We are, however, in need of some sustenance, so Bill invites Daryl to join us for lunch.
Daryl accepts happily, and suggests the Two Oceans restaurant overlooking the crossing point of the seas. Now THIS is a view! (If you want to get really technical, the Indian Ocean really joins the Atlantic Ocean at Cape Agulhas National Park, but this area is where the cold Benguela current on the West Coast and the warm Agulas current on the East Coast come together: it's the dramatic junction of two of earth's most contrasting water masses, and it's why sailors of every stripe had such a devil of a time navigating here).
Bill opts for the ostrich, which he really enjoys. I devour the crayfish, which is a local specialty (as is snoek) and find it fantastic. Blake has pasta and is only slightly disappointed that they've never heard of tomato or marinara sauce. Here in Africa the only red sauce is Peri Peri, and that's a bit hot for Blake's palate. Daryl lays into a steak while telling us more about the history of the area and the baboons that occupy it. (The restaurant recently had to install an electric fence on its roof to keep the baboons from leaping off the roof onto the tables and stealing the patrons' lunches right off their plates and even right out of their mouths! Just a bit disconcerting).
Turns out, Daryl's lunch is free due to a nice local custom: there's no charge for guides who bring in new customers to the restaurant. How very civilized! Blake asks “Can we leave now?” and we tell him “Just as soon as we get the bill.” Then he pipes up, “But we already HAVE the Bill, right here!” and throws his arms around Daddy Bill. This becomes a running dialogue after almost every meal. We are both very happy to have The Bill along with us on this amazing trip.
After lunch we take the small “Flying Dutchman” funicular up to the very highest point, where there's a lighthouse and a stupendous view of the two mighty oceans meeting. We're so lucky that there's no fog or wind to mar our photos—even so, the pictures can never capture the dramatic vista of this historic shipwreck capital of the world we've all read so much about since we were kids. The cliffs tower more than 200 metres above the seas and consist of three clearly-defined promontories—The Cape of Good Hope, Cape Maclear and Cape Point.
This is where Vasco DeGama met his fate; but did you know that 10 years before Vasco's ship went down around the Cape of Good Hope , another Portugese explorer named Diaz passed by here, only to meet the same fate? Both explorers have a stone monument in their honor here, one on each side of the point.
This area also offers excellent vantage points for whale viewing. The Southern Right Whale is the species most likely to be seen in False Bay between June and November; the Humpback and Bryde's Whale may also be seen, as well as seals and dolphins. But that will have to wait until our next trip here. We've promised Blake he'd see penguins, so it's back into the car.
Almost immediately, Daryl pulls over to the side of the road. Right at the road's edge is a family of baboons grooming each other! Blake's eyes fly open with awe and joy! These are the moments we all live for. However, the baboons then decided to pay an undue amount of attention to each other's posteriors, so we decide to move along. There are many more sightings of these quirky creatures, and we keep pulling over until we've had our fill of baboonery.
Daryl tells us that when he was a boy, his family would drive their car down this road and baboons would jump on top of the car and refuse to disembark until they were given something to eat. Back in those days, there were hundreds and hundreds living here.
 Next stop: Boulder Beach . We're JUST in time to get through the gate before it closes at 5:30. We stroll down the long wooden boardwalk that leads to the beach where hundreds of jackass penguins live. Before we've taken 3 steps, we're greeted by a friendly small brown animal—at last! A Rock Hyrax, aka, “dassie”! I'd promised Blake a dassie in Africa and this cute little guy has come to the rescue. He reminds us a little of Prince Charles, being a bit long in the tooth.
After getting the requisite shot of the dassie, we proceed down the planks to the beach (this is one looooooong boardwalk!) and encounter thousands of jackass penguins barking, moaning, grunting, and most importantly--braying like donkeys! Thus their name. Some are sitting on their eggs, some are throwing sand in the air—in all, a very festive jackass chorus all around us.
The beach boasts dozens of huge, rounded boulders embedded the sand. People and penguins share the rocks equally in this divine, isolated cove. This would be an ideal place to return when we have more time to take an entire day to picnic and lounge with thes playful tuxedoed fellows in the South African sunshine.
The locals here know these guys a bit better; including their naughty side. Daryl tells us that the penguins hop the fences at night and get into people's yards and swim in their pools and upset their lawn furniture, etc. Penguin Pool Party! Last one in's a rotten ostrich egg! They really do look like they're all wearing tiny wet suits and are ready to hang ten.
We're starting to lose the light, and the park is closing for the day. We have just one more stop before heading back to Capetown. Daryl wants to show us the monument to “Just Nuisance”, the only dog in South Africa who was ever made an official able-bodied seaman. There's a bronze sculpture of this German Shepherd who lived aboard a British Naval ship who used to go around to the bars late at night and drag the drunken sailors off their barstools and lead them safely back to the ship—thus the nickname “Just Nuisance”. It's only fitting he should get his own statue, as well as his naval stripes. We give Nuisance a pat on his bronze nose and bid thank him for his valuable service.
After a long and happy day, we're back at the hotel and must bid Daryl a fond goodbye. We thank him sincerely for imparting his knowledge of the Cape and for all the great suggestions he's made toward this outstanding day.
Blake is once again craving his all-day breakfast in the courtyard of The Commodore, and since he's been SUCH a pleasure through all this travel, we couldn't possibly deny him. Bill and I are craving something spicier, so after Blake's meal we all head down to the V & A Waterfront to find an enormously satisfying Portugese restaurant, Tasca De Belem. Bill and I order the clam and pork platacana for two.
It arrives in a large copper-topped skillet and is truly aromatic, resting on a bed of tomatoes, onions and peppers. Topped with a few shakes of each of 4 hand-made peri-peri sauces—it's the best meal in Africa we've had by far.
Dessert consists of three custard tarts dusted with cinnamon hot out of the oven—super delicious! We all sleep like penguins atop their nests this fair night on the Cape .
-- Wine Not?
 This sunny day we hopped on the bus with the group for a trip to lovely Stellenbosch and the surrounding countryside with our freelance guide, Arthur. He's a colorful man who is clearly passionate about South Africa and is very concerned about the 49,000 people from Zimbabwe who are crossing over the border every month due to Robert Mugabe's unspeakably cruel reign of terror. Although we'd rather hear stories about the quaintness of the wine country, Arthur gave us story after unvarnished story about the delicate political situation in South Africa ; saying that he considered himself to be a “reporter” and not an“entertainer”. So be it. The situation is at a threshold, and he could only speak from his own heart. He did lighten the mood by giving us a pop quiz about what different groups of animals are called, and everyone is cheered up. (You can see the list at the end of this report).
This is God's country. Green-covered craggy mountains, grazing animals and Dutch farmhouses—each with its own ‘signature' dormer—dotting the countryside under an electric blue sky. One can tell which family owns which farm simply by looking at the shape of the dormer over the front door. Most roofs were originally made from thatch—now, because there's a drought, some roofs have been replaced with fire-retardant tin.
We arrived at the first winery where a tasting of 4 whites and 2 reds had been prepared for us under the spreading specimen trees. We were seated around several white wrought-iron tables with a view of the stunning mountains behind us. The management was even so kind as to have prepared a little bottle of sparkling grape juice and a special glass so that Blake could participate in the tasting with the rest of us. (Blake was always so happy to participate in any activity with this friendly group).
I mentioned how much I liked the chardonnay, and after reading the wine card, Blake remarked, “That's because it's buttery. Deborah, you'd better drink all of that one and then buy the bottle.” Was there ever such a delightful child as this? He looked across the table at Sue, who was trying the Zinfandel. “Not your favorite, huh?” surmised our 9 year old sommelier-in-training. “You're right,” she answered and reached for her water glass. However, she DID love the cabernet. As she did this, one of the great lines from “Sideways” floated through my mind. Thomas Haden Church is scolding his friend: “An HOUR and a HALF on VOUVRAY!?!?!?What were you THINKING???”
Bill looked so happy, raising glass #5, framed by ancient shade trees, green oceans of grass, and those breathtaking mountains. I was in total heaven myself. Unfortunately, we had to move along, so we took a mid-morning walk to the front gate among the vines, picking up acorns on our way. Photo ops abounded on top of the great white stone gate with Vanessa, Tiffany, Erica, Kwanzaa, and of course Blake, who wasn't about to be left out of that mix!
Moments later, the bus picked us up to take us to the Spier compound: a crafts village, picnic area with a nice lake, a winery, the restaurant Moyo and lots of little shops. It's 10 per cent about the wine and 90 per cent about the other stuff. Most importantly for the 9 year olds in our party, also on the grounds is the “Cheetah Experience” and the “Eagle Encounter.” We queued up for the cheetahs and it was about 20 minutes before the three of us were stroking the back of one fabulous cat named Enigma. He's a gorgeous male who sleeps 18 hours a day, just saving up all of marvelous energy in order to go from zero to 120 miles per hour…in three seconds. As fast as a Ferrari, people! It's no wonder he needs those 18 hours to get that kind of speed together. We thought he was the fastest creature on earth, but someone said that there's actually a goat in North America that is slightly faster. A goat? Personally, my money's on this guy with the 2000 spots and the exceptionally sharp incisors.
Always remember when petting a cheetah: only pet his side and his back; never the head or the booty or you'll be in trouble. (Bill thinks he had a girlfriend like that once). And you must pet the cheetah firmly , or you'll tickle him and he won't take too kindly to that. Blake found that out when he petted too softly and Enigma jerked his head up, annoyed!
Even so, Blake had to tear himself away from the big cat and made sure we all said goodbye a couple of times before leaving. Next door is the Eagle Encounter, where injured hawks, eagles, peregrine falcons and many more birds of prey are nurtured back to health and are then released back into the wild. By way of contrast, we learned that once you feed a cheetah just one time, he can never be released back into the wild. He becomes instantly domesticated, and therefore you must take care of him forever after that first feeding, as he'd never survive in the wild again.
We would have liked to have stayed for the falconry show, but there was so much else to see and do. We headed next to the restaurant Moyo, under the batik tent for an outdoor barbeque lunch (called a braai—rhymes with cry) augmented by misting fans that kept us cool as we sipped our virgin mango coladas. This place is the mother of all braais! Stand after stand of grilled vegetables, meats and fish; plus stews, fruits, salads and of course—a lengthy dessert buffet which Blake managed to make three trips to before the end of the afternoon.
The South Africans take their braais very seriously—there's even a National Braai Day where the entire country barbecues simultaneously. The term braii can be used as a verb—as in, the art of barbecuing—or as a noun-- as in, the equipment on which you grill. So, if someone invites you over to their house for a braii—know that it's an honor, and also know that you'd better bring your own meat for grilling like everyone else does or you might get some funny looks.
Blake hopped up on stage with a bunch of other kids who were dancing and playing tag; then headed over to another area where kids were having ‘bracelet races' in the fountains. Blake substituted a bottlecap for a bracelet and did pretty well in the rankings. He loved playing in the wet rocks of the fountain with the other kids as the afternoon went pleasantly past.
I had time for a quick bit of shopping before we really needed to get Blaker Boy back to the hotel, as he was fading fast. Just as we were leaving, there was a short musical show by young African singers and dancers on the stage, who demonstrated some of the Zulu kick-dancing of their ancestors.
A golf cart was then sent from the hotel Spier to pick us up and take us back to the Spier hotel where a driver was arranged to take us back to Capetown. We had just enough time before leaving to spend a few quiet moments under a shade tree by the lake watching the birds. It was a wonderful day, capped off by another—you guessed it— all-day breakfast in the courtyard.
Afterwards, Blake accompanied us to the waterfront for a waterside dinner where Bill had trouble deciding between the warthog and the springbok. Settling at last on steaming plate of warthog, to Blake's complete disgust, he was very happy with his selection. I tried a bite and thought it tasted like slightly tough pork. Tomorrow---it's back to Johannesburg and a new adventure menu altogether.
Bush country
 Up early, we transfer to Johannesburg where our fantastic new guide Stuart meets us at the airport with a feather in his cap and a joie de vivre that does not quit! We make the two-hour and twenty minute drive to Kwa Maritane Game Reserve in the Pilanesberg National Park . (It's pronounced PEE lonz berg. Kwa Maritane either means “place of the rock” or “mountain of monkeys”, depending on whom you ask).
Stuart is very astute and gleans immediately that none of us wants to wait until the morning to go on our first game drive, so he hastily arranges an extra drive to begin just minutes after we arrive. We take just a couple of minutes to change into proper clothing (no neon colors in the bush, please) and then we're off!
Our vehicle is an 18-to-20 seater, open at the front and covered with a tarp. Not much between us and the Big Five, if you get my meaning. Some rubber wheels and a lot of trust. Our driver/guide is Duane, an upbeat man with spiky hair, a wealth of experience, and one arm. (We later find out that he's lost his arm due to a car accident two years ago, and not to a leopard or lion, as we all secretly fear).
We drive for about 20 minutes and see absolutely no animals. I'm getting a stomach ache thinking that I've brought all these wonderful people all this way for nothing. Just as my personal responsibility/guilt meter is pinning, we see a dazzle of zebras! About 15 of them on the right. YESSS!
Duane asks the group why the zebras look chunky. Erica answers immediately: “The stripes. They make everybody look fat.” But really, it's because zebras have a whopping 18 sets of ribs—not 12 like most of the rest of us. Now the zebras are walking on the road very close to the vehicle and we all “ooh and ahh” and take lots of “dazzling” pictures.
The stripes, besides adding “pounds”, are also protective against lion attacks. When a lion approaches to make a kill, the zebras scatter, confusing the lion who's trying to isolate one zebra; the stripes dazzle and confuse.
Next up, a huge beautiful male impala…alone and regal. Then a herd of wildebeests grazing on the hill. (Personal guilt meter is now at half-mast). Now Duane hears on his walkie talkie--which he manages beautifully, along with the clutch, the steering wheel, and his cellphone, all with his left arm-- that there are lions nearby. He focuses like a laser beam on this info. We blow past all kinds of animals to try to get to the lion locus before they move.
We barrel down the bumpy road as Duane tries to pick up the trail, to no avail. Just as he gives up, there's word of other lions elsewhere and he quickly and expertly spins a 180. Lo and behold—not a half-hour into our first game drive—as he brings the jeep to a stop, on the road directly in front of us is a HUGE male lion walking directly toward us. That's what I'm talkin' about.
A hush falls over our rowdy jeep as the King of Beasts slowly and majestically marches slowly past our vehicle. We are allowed to quietly take photos. After he passes, there's a collective sigh of relief, and we follow him. He's quite mellow about it. Perhaps he's just eaten.
Now---giraffes! Not quite a “journey” or a “stretch” of them, but about 5 or 6, feeding on the trees. “Giraffe” means “he who walks gracefully” or “he who meets the trees” in Zulu. They're really wild camel-horses with two fuzzy antennae-like horns. One for AM, one for FM? Maybe they'll have to evolve now and grow two more horns—one for satellite and one for HD…..(random musings in the bush from a radio geek).
Erica announces: “I'm done. I'm happy. I wanted to see zebras and giraffes, and now I've seen them both. I can go home happy.” However, there's a few more notches she'll put in her belt before this night is over.
Here's a jackrabbit hopping down the road. “SO CUTE!” cries Blake, and then tells everyone about his pet rabbits BunBoy and Pat. It's getting dark now, and we need to head back.
Two more major scores await us, though. An enormous male rhino appears almost too close on the right-hand side and also a gigantic giraffe is just feet from the vehicle! We are massively impressed, and Duane has a big smile on his face. One solo springbok completes our animal feast for the eyes this evening under the nearly-full moon. Guilt meter is now parked at zero. I switch it off for the entirety of the trip. Duane has delivered, big time!
Dinner at the lodge, under a 50 foot hut-like ceiling is delicious and plentiful. It's buffet-style and is complimented by an impressive wine cellar featuring some wonderful South African vintages. Bill even rounds up a glass of black sambuca way out here in the bush country, and is utterly happy. Blake discovers a slice of chocolate cake that rocks his world. I'm all over the crème brulee and chocolate mousse. How do they get all this deliciousness to this remote area? Ours is not to worry about it, but to enjoy, and we do.
Our room looks like a hut, with a tall pointed ceiling in the middle, and then a secondary thatched roof. It's quite adequate for three people, and has a balcony that faces the tall grasses. Earlier this week, one guest was standing on her balcony in the morning and witnessed a lion killing a warthog –just feet from her balcony! What a way to greet the day. There's nothing like comfort food for breakfast, right? We sleep deeply, with animals running through our dreams.
Animal Mania
We have a 6am call for our second game drive, and no one oversleeps. After last night, we're all totally motivated to see more animals in their native environment. After only a cup of coffee, we head straight to the watering hole where a baby hippo and mother are bathing. They do surface a bit from time to time so we can see their ears, noses and a bit of their backs.
Hippos look like they're yawning all the time but in fact, those aren't yawns. They're opening their mouths nice and wide to say to other hippos and any other interested parties: “Here I am. Here is how big my mouth is, and this is how sharp my teeth are. Any other questions before you enter my part of the waterhole?”
Now we witness a big baboon with a large gash on his modest backside. Duane says he must have been in a fight with another dominant male. (Only the females have the big behinds when they come into oestrus, or heat). Earlier we've joked with Blake that if he gets out of line, we'll make him eat pink baboon-butt sandwiches for the rest of the trip. Blake thinks this is just way beyond gross and says he's now lost his appetite forever.
We move along, in search of the Big Five. What are the Big Five? They're the five animals that at one time were deemed the most difficult and dangerous to hunt down and kill. They are, in no particular order: the Cape buffalo, leopard, lion, rhinoceros, and elephant. We've already seen 3 of the Big Five, so can go home with our heads held high.
High on a rock ledge are two baboons now…they have slept here with a great view and are now moving about, doing what baboons do in the morning. Duane tells us that just one week ago, there was a terrible fire in the Pilanesberg National Park which destroyed about 75 per cent of the habitat. He said he was worried what might have happened to many of the animals, but from what he could garner, luckily they didn't lose even one.
We come to a dead stop. “Now, what do you see?” queries Duane. We see nothing but savannah and a few burnt trees. He points to a high hill in the distance. On top of the hill is a flat-foreheaded female elephant! Duane says the only reason he was able to spot her is that she flapped her ears once. Then we see a smaller elephant, about 5 or 6 years old, directly behind her. Duane confirms that elephants are smarter than most of the other large animals and do have very long memories. They can live up to 65 years, and have 6 sets of molars throughout their lifetimes.
The older their teeth get, the more they're worn down and eventually another set grows in behind. When they get their 6 th and last set of teeth which is softer than the others, the elephants have to move to where the vegetation is also softer, so they usually head to a river or a dam. Here they might encounter another aging elephant who is also on his last set of teeth, and they might die together. This disputes the myth of the “elephant graveyard”, where elephants have been said to travel to the sites of their grandfathers in order to die by their sides. In reality, they just go to where they can survive a little longer near the soft vegetation and it's purely accidental if they die near a relative.
“Tuskless” elephants are those with under-developed tusks, and “tuskers” are those with the largest tusks of all, much-prized by hunters of yore and poachers of ivory today. Blake asks Duane if they have problems with poachers in this area. Duane replies affirmatively, but says he has no problem with people poaching for meat in order to live. He does have a problem with those who poach for “trophy” purposes, and says there's just no reason to kill a Big 5 beast like this simply for the bragging rights, the pelts, or the tusks. We couldn't agree more.
An entire breeding herd of African elephants led by a supersized matriarch now approaches. There are 11 in all. They have round front feet and oval back feet designed for optimum weight distribution and balance. Their spines join directly back into their tails.
Though they look peaceful, remember that one swipe of an elephant's trunk will kill a human instantly. You certainly don't want to play footsie with a behemoth like this, either. As these are African elephants, the shape of their ears resembles the continent of Africa . (Indian elephant's ears mimic the shape of India ). Just thinking about this makes me crave those big flaky pastries called Elephant Ears my mom used to warm in the broiler for us.
Back to the subject at hand. Pilanesberg is a national park, so guides can't drive off the road in order to get a closer look at the animals, unlike in the private game reserves such as Phinda, where guides can drive as close as they dare. Given this restriction, we are mightily impressed at how close Duane is getting up to these wild beasts---it's a real art, and he's mastered it.
Now we suddenly see the shapes of elephants everywhere, blending in beautifully like huge grey rocks with ears! They love roots—that's why they're knocking over trees—in order to get to those tasty roots. Unfortunately, by doing this, they destroy their own habitat, decimating huge hectares of the environment as they chow down on 450 pounds of vegetation per elephant per day.
Did you know that there are right-handed and left-handed pachyderms? There are, and you can tell the lefties from the righties by checking out their tusks. If the tusk on the left side is shorter, he's a lefty because he uses that one more often. The matriarchs all have on manmade radio collars around their necks for tracking purposes. (It's for their protection).
Now we spot a few imposing-looking impalas hanging out under a tree. They are bachelors—young males who think they're strong enough to challenge a dominant male, so they form a group to try to oust him. We'll never know if they're successful, since we have to move along.
And we move directly into a dazzle of yearling zebras going into their second year of life, having been pushed out the year before. (Mother Nature can be tough when she wants to be).
Rhinos on the left! They always get our attention and our blood pumping. Wildebeestes on the right—we're HOT! They're not the prettiest antelope in the drawer, but their mothers love them.
And now we're laughing because there's a funny-looking tiny warthog on our right. He looks like a mini-rhino and he's snorting up a storm. He's now joined by five of his tiny buddies—these guys are about ¼th of the size of the warthogs I saw at Phinda in KwaziZululand in eastern Africa . The males have 2 sets of warts on their faces and the females have only one—they're missing the set close to the tusk. (Can you believe Bill ate a steaming pile of warthog the other night and said it was delicious? Warthog-in-a-blanket with syrup, anyone?)
Warthogs have up to six piglets at once. There's a high mortality rate due to predators like jackals. They really are quite amusing to watch, and we take lots of photos.
Now we're on the hippo loop road. Taking her cue from the lions who slumber 20 hours a day, Gloria is now fast asleep behind her fashionable white sunglasses. That is, until Duane points out two lions under a tree and a herd of springbok! Gloria snaps to attention.
The lions are lounging in the shade. From time to time, the larger one lifts up his gigantic head. He'll spend all day long following that patch of shade around the tree. “Veeeeeery lazy,” drawls Duane. All we need now to complete our Big 5 is a Cape buffalo and a leopard. (Good luck with that!)
However, we do see a crimson bubu just now. It's a small, brilliant-red bird who hops around on the ground and sings for us. A franklin squawks and lands in a tree.
We stop for a loo break and walk down a short boardwalk to a watering hole. We see hippos outside the water and also wildebeests running and playing and kicking up dust.
Back in the vehicle, and now two more dazzles of zebras on the right and a crash of rhinos on the left. Superb! This is Africa in high gear.
What are those things? Duane answers instantly. “Tsetsebeestes. They're the fastest long-distance runners on the planet. They can run 60-65 kilometers per hour for up to 15 kilometers.” We are impressed, even though we have no idea how long a kilometer is.
More giraffes now—my personal favorite. Maybe because they called me “Stretch” in grade school because I had such a long neck. Little-known fact: when giraffes fight, they call it necking. (Enter your own punchline here). They are so close to us! One is a perfectly dark-colored specimen; the other more milk-chocolate-y. They're gracefully munching on the uppermost leaves of the trees and are blinking langorously. We sit for a long time and just admire them, and the hand that designed them.
Want proof that God has a sense of humor? Meet the waterbuck—the only deer with a white ring circling its bum. Close to it is a lovely maribou stork. And now, after nearly three hours of high-level animal spotting, the only thing we want to spot next is….a waffle! We are officially starved.
Back at Kwa Maritane, we scarf down a delicious breakfast and then have some free time. Blake wants to perfect his front flips on the trampoline. Erica jumps with him, and we wonder if she's a closeted professional. She's a world-class jumper-gymnast by the looks of it! Bill wants to check out nearby Sun City . We divide and conquer. I race to the room for a quick workout, Blake stays with Erica on the trampoline and Bill gets ready for Sun City . I'm thinking I'll stay with Blake while he goes, but Erica, Vanessa, Jill and Tiffany volunteer to stick like glue to Blake so that Bill and I can go together.
We walk to the reception area, just as the shuttle is taking off in the distance. I high-tail it up the driveway, yelling my lungs out. Someone on the shuttle hears me, and they screech to a halt so Bill and I can hop on.
Sun City is only 15 minutes away from Kwa Maritane, but the contrast couldn't be more complete from our peaceful little Dutch-inspired resort. Driving through the imposing Sun City gates, I immediately feel like I'm in Vegas. Or Cancun . Or Atlantis in the Bahamas . Everything is made of that fake rock stuff and is erected on a massive scale. Ginormous faux elephants are carved into the building's façade, and the casino interior has a wildlife scheme that climbs up the walls up to its 100-foot ceilings.
Shuttle buses are on-hand at bay after bay to take you to various stops on the grounds like the Palace Hotel or the aviary or one of the other hotels--or even to the Gary Player Country Club. Bill is utterly amazed that owner/creator Sol Kerzner has chosen this remote spot in the bush in order to build this behemoth gambling complex. There's a massive game room chock-a-block with pinball machines and rifle-shooting games, etc. and on the other end there's an outdoor walkway leading to something called “The Valley of Waves.” We are curious.
The Valley Of Waves turns out to be a really big pool with a sand beach where hundreds of kids are splashing about while their parents or au pairs relax on chaises nearby. A seriously long waterslide anchors a lavish waterpark. In the distance on a hill is the gargantuan Palace Hotel. We have to see it, so we hop a shuttle and make a beeline there.
Inside The Palace we find lots and lots and lots of marble, towering ceilings, and dozens of potted plants. We were hoping for a little more charm. But there's always the aviary, so we head there directly. We walk over wooden bridges and water features to a nice little spot which is like a tiny version of “World of Birds.” We spend about 15 minutes admiring the different species, and then walk a little further to the Gary Player Country Club, where Clayton in our group had a nice round earlier today.
It's immaculate. This is where I would spend my entire vacation if I were to stay at The Palace. There's no getting around this one: it's stunning. Suddenly it makes sense to me why families might like to come to this place. Mom and Dad could take shifts golfing and being with the kids; there's elephant riding nearby, and the kids would be in heaven in that game room no matter what the weather, as long as the quarters (or the rand equivalent) held out. I think also that all the water features here must be quite appealing to people who don't get much access to water in other parts of Africa . Bill marvels at where all the energy comes from to keep this place –and all its water features—running day and night. (Not to mention the extensive maintenance! Hoo Boy.)
There's another pool area which is very nice, and some shops—but really nothing other than the murals on the walls and the lifesize giraffe statues in the ballroom of the casino that would signal to you that you're in Africa .
We're quite happy to get on the bus and head back to quaint Kwa Maritane, where Blake is still doing flips on the trampoline, with Tiffany close-by making admiring comments. He's had a great time “playing” large-size outdoor chess, swimming, going down the waterslide although it was freezing, playing pool and foosball and just hanging with ‘the girls' who've so kindly adopted him.
We have just enough time before our next game drive to check out “The Hide”, which is an underground tunnel beneath the hotel that leads to a watering hole where, at certain times of the day, animals gather to bathe and feed. Unfortunately, this is not one of those times. We see a few birds, though, and are satisfied.
Our last game drive. Duane at the wheel.He takes us into a different part of Pilanesberg Park . We see a few giraffes in the distance. And suddenly Duane gets a call about a lion sighting. As we head there, he sees a little group of vehicles that have gathered down a side road. He changes course immediately. “I have no idea what's down there, but let's go check it out.”
Lo and behold, it's a cheetah, lying in a shady gully, blinking and relaxing and switching his tail. We are all riveted, sharing the binoculars, as we know this is a particularly rare treat. On instinct, Duane backs up—instinctively knowing when and where this magnificent cat will head next. Sure enough, he has us positioned in the best possible spot as the cheetah wakes up and walks into the tall grasses. We have 5 to 7 minutes of prime-time viewing and picture-taking of this marvelous animal. A major, major wow. Brandy clicks off the most amazing photo of all and we hope she'll email it to us later.
After the cheetah is lost in the distance, we give Duane a round of applause. He is the MAN! But he's not resting on his laurels yet. Right now he's back on the radio and we get lucky again by spotting a large male lion waking up from his long slumber, yawning and licking his chops. (We try not to read too much into that). Then we realize that it's the same lion we saw this morning, only the lucky part is that now he's done sleeping. The shorter the time between yawns, and the greater number of yawns in a row provide a very good indication that his cat-nap is over and this lion may very well stand up soon.
We count 8 yawns in short succession. And sure enough, then he stands. Incredible musculature and stature! King of the beasts, indeed! We are awed. “Let's see if we can get him to roar for us,” suggests Duane. We are patient and quiet. The engine is turned off. And then…..from the depth of his being…..the mighty lion roars ! It's two deafening long roars, and then 5 short barks. Again….two long roars…and 5 short barks. Then, within 5 seconds, the lion is gone.
“You know what he was saying to us just then?” asks Duane. We have no clue. “He's saying this, in so many words: ‘WHOOOOOOOOSE THE KING? WHOOOOOOOOOSE THE KING? I AM. I AM. I AM. I AM. I AM.' Come to think of it, that does sound exactly like what that big cat was trying to tell us. Who are we to refute it?
Duane is on a roll. Now there are not one but two entire breeding herds of African elephants approaching. The babies are following their mothers and are actually holding onto their mothers' tails with their trunks, like in a Dumbo movie! There must be 50 elephants in all. We are crazy with excitement but manage to contain ourselves. Blake says softly “No WAY!” and that's how we all feel. We can't possibly be this lucky!
The first mother matriarch wasn't so sure she wanted to deal with us. She hesitated to lead her brood across the road in front of our vehicle. Looking at us, looking behind, even threatening us a little. Then the larger matriarch (I'm talking one HUGE elephant here) came up from the rear of the pack and marched confidently right in front of us across the road like nobody's business and then every other elephant fell in line behind her without questioning. They moved very quickly. Not five minutes later, both breeding herds were well out of sight in the long grasses. Our timing had been absolutely perfect. If I can speak for everyone in that vehicle, we will not soon forget those priceless five minutes with the big Africans any time soon—if ever. These are the things you think about when you realize that Africa changes you.
“Bee youuuuuu tee ful”, says Duane softly, before firing up the jeep. Exactly.
The full moon now rises over the mountains and Duane points out the Southern Cross in the sky. The Alpha, Beta, Gamma and Delta stars form the upper part of the cross. If you were to draw a horizontal line through the Alpha and Beta stars, and then also through the middle of the “handle” of the three stars below, the intersection of those two lines will point you directly Southward. Thus the name Southern Cross. Now you'll never be lost in the bush again, if only you can keep your gammas and your deltas in order.
Duane points to the planet Venus and Blake is utterly fascinated, encouraging everyone to look through Tiffany's binoculars because “You can see everything! It's like we're really up there!” He is truly into the night sky and loves being here with the group.
On this magical last night in Africa , once again I'm seized with emotion—and don't want to leave. It seems so right to be here together in the Cradle of Civilization, among all these magnificent creatures who share the animal kingdom with us. Africa has become part of us now, and we a part of it.
It starts at the back of your throat., when you least expect it. You'll be walking along, and you'll see a woman with a heart-stopping smile carrying a huge bag of washed potatoes on her head, greeting a neighbor….or an elaborate handshake among friends…or the lilt of kwela or mbube music wafting from the open windows of a taxi. The sign in the market for a local spice called “Mother in Law Exterminator”. You want to stay. And stay. And buy wild African honey in palm fronds from the young men at the side of the road.
All African languages throughout the continent have a word that defines the person: umuntu. Bringing individual persons together in a higher reality is called ubuntu. Ubuntu is the humanistic experience of treating all people with respect; granting them their human dignity. What an excellent idea.
The wonderful thing about traveling is that you take the time to think about things like ubuntu. You pay attention to life, and it pays attention to you.
On our way home now, in total darkness except for the fullest of moons and the sidelights Duane has turned on to sweep over the grasses, we need to slow down because there are two big bachelor rhinos on the road in front of us taking a casual moonlight stroll. They're taking their own sweet time, and we can't get around them. After 10 minutes or so, Duane gently forces them into the roadside grasses and they lumber off.
Blake says to Duane, “Alright, Duane. Now focus on finding us a hyena. I'll give you a hundred bucks if you spot one.” (The hundred-buck bribe is now a running gag). Sure enough, Duane focuses—and finds—a rare brown hyena, romping solo in a ditch by the roadside. Showoff! It's even on the Blake's side of the jeep. Duane laughs. “I just can't believe this. We hardly EVER see these.” Sometimes you just have the karma. Pony up, Blake!
He's grinning from ear to ear, and immediately marks down on his ever-growing list of animal sightings: 1 rare brown hyena. So there. Now that we've bagged our hyena with our cameras and are well-satisfied with our takings, we turn into the gate at Kwa Maritane in full darkness. All of a sudden a herd of large wildebeests crashes through right in front of our vehicle! “Beeee youuuuu tee ful!” exclaims Duane. “The wildebeests have come to bid you goodbye.” And so they have. What a fantastic parting gift.
We go straight to dinner without changing. A delectable buffet tonight with dozens of offerings including paella and osso buco and a wide range of starters, salads, sides and a dessert buffet studded with baklava, strawberry mousse, fruit soup, English trifle, sundaes with toppings including amaroula, and much, much more.
We crack open a bottle of S. African pinot and talk over the amazing events of the day. Stuart tells some tales about his near-misses (with Blake's encouragement). Like the time a huge bull elephant rubbed his massive tusks up against his jeep and Stuart was sure he was going to tip it over like a toy. Yet the elephant just made him sweat it out and then he moved on. Or the one night while sleeping in a tent, and woke up to hear an elephant directly outside the fabric---so close the elephant could have stomped on him and made hash out of him with one measured step. The elephant stayed just feet from Stuart for an agonizing amount of time, so that finally Stuart instinctively reached out and touched the elephant's ankle through the fabric and just held onto it. The physical contact seemed to pacify the beast, who eventually snorted and then left him alone (albeit very sweaty inside his sleeping bag)!
Stuart also tells us of a game drive during which a friend of his took a group out and spotted a leopard climbing into a culvert pipe. His friend got out of the vehicle to investigate and was gone for quite a long time. The group called and called for him but wisely decided to do as they were told and stayed in the vehicle. Instead of searching for him on foot, they drove the vehicle back toward the camp—eventually finding someone who could help them with directions and to call for help. The missing guide was found hours later inside the culvert. The leopard had ripped his throat out and he'd died instantly.
These stories cause us not to abhor these animals but to respect them and their ways in this, their homeland. Blake loved these stories and came up with a few of his own to share. Another glass of black sambuca for the adults and it was off to bed.
The next day, Wednesday, after a brutal night in which the anti-typhoid medicine I'd been taking had had me up sick all night, we packed up and left for a scenic drive through Pretoria . We stopped for a bit of shopping at a warehouse-type of supplier of African artifacts. We bought gifts for friends and family here and I got a nice pair of Tanzanite earrings which will help me hold onto this experience when I'm back in the U.S.
 (Tanzanite is a rare blue stone found only in Africa ). We also picked up some stamps for Blake's scrapbook and some local music cds.
Then its on to the Joburg airport for an uneventful trip home aboard South African Airways, which always provides such a pleasant womb environment in which to travel. The food is even very good, 37,000 feet above sea level. Watching Bill and Blake leave me at the airport at JFK to go home to LA was like ripping out my heart and my right arm after 9 incredibly special days together.
I get characteristically sad when leaving Africa , as if my animal soul dies just a little and every bone in my body cries out to stay longer with the animals and the people in this mystical and ancient realm.
I recall the welcome note we received when we arrived in eastern Africa on a previous trip:
“As the blazing sun rises upon the open plain and the animals wake from a night's rest, the bush comes alive. The soul, the mind, feel pure bliss….the birdsong rings for a thousand miles and the calls of the wild sound true. You know you are really alive in the heart of the African bush.” Beee youu tee fully said.
And so, “Salagathe”. (I leave you.)
You say: “Hambagathe.” (Go well). I hope we meet up sometime soon under a full African moon.
Deborah Rath Howell
Here's what they call different groups of animals in Africa :
- A journey of giraffes (or a stretch of giraffes)
- A crash of rhinos
- A leap of leopards
- A dazzle of zebras
- A bloat of hippos
- A herd of springbok
- A parcel of penguins (or a task of penguins)
- A pride of lions
- A murmeration ofstarlings
- A lamentation of swans
- A flock of seagulls (ok, so that was a bad hair band from the 80's)
- A huddle of humans (or a peck or a posse of people) Alright, I
- made that up, but I'm sure the animals have their own names for us.
- Now you're in the know and can wildly impress your co-workers
- around the water cooler with your deep knowledge of the bush.
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Deborah Rath Blog
