The 2018 Africa Journals, Ch. 3: Lessons Offered; Lessons Learned

FROM THE TRAVEL GUIDES:

Dress in layers.

Yeah, yeah, yeah, I think as I put suntan lotion and my lightest weight safari pants in my duffle bag.   

“African mornings can be chilly.”   

I live in Alaska.   I know chilly.

I fold my lightest tee shirts and sun protection long-sleeve shirts. 

Just in case, I also take a lightweight fleece pullover and a lightweight jacket.   And a windbreaker that will serve as a rain jacket in the event of soft showers.

FROM MY FRIENDS:

Africa?   In June!!!   Won’t it be hot?

I reject a sun hat with a long flap that protects the back of my neck and opt instead for just a visor.   Then I add two neckties that, when soaked in water and wrapped around my neck, provide cooling by evaporation.

ENTER REALITY:

SONOFABITCHITSCOLD!!!    

Well, hello?   It’s winter in Africa.   I never dreamed it could get this cold in Africa.  Marg says it’s just a couple degrees above freezing at 35 Fahrenheit.   She doesn’t say anything after that.   Neither do Laura or Holly.   I think their lips are numb.

We aren’t on top of Mt. Kilimanjaro in Kenya, either.   We’re at roughly a thousand feet above sea level in the Sabi Sands Game Reserve adjacent to Kruger National Park in South Africa.

And it’s cold.  So cold I am thankful that Kirkman’s Kamp has provided us with extra blankets and water bottles.   “Put it between your legs,” says Matt.   Good advice.

I’m wearing the heaviest tee I can find, a long-sleeved SPF shirt, the fleece pullover, the windbreaker, and a jacket.   Five layers.   The hot water bottle is in my lap, with a blanket covering it and my legs.   I keep my hands on the hot bottle so they will be flexible enough to work the camera controls.

There's a hot water bottle in the gray flannel.

To make matters worse, we’ve dipped down into the Sand river bottom and the change in temperature is noticeable.   Surely the water will be frozen, I think.

A part of the Sand River channel with tall grass and reeds.

It isn’t.   Then I forget about the cold because there are two leopards in the tall reeds and grasses that line the river and Matt has aimed the safari vehicle into them, essentially blinding us to anything that isn’t near enough to touch.

Leopard slinking through the reeds and grass.

Richard, our tracker, rides point on a seat added to the front of the vehicle.   From his position, he can see much that we can’t, and he guides Matt with hand signals.

He finds them, those two green-eyed beauties.   A mother and daughter, and there are lessons being taught, lessons being practiced and learned.   The daughter stalks and attacks her mother again and again in the tall grass, readying herself for when she's on her own.

The rising sun reaches the river bottom, but the hot water bottle stays put, as does the blanket while we continue to follow and shoot the two leopards.

Someone behind me—perhaps Holly—says her hot water bottle isn’t hot anymore.

“They’re timed that way,” I joke.   “They get cold when the sun comes up and brings warmth.”

These two are not the first leopards we see here in the Sabi Sands reserve.   Nor are they are 
the last.   We find them all over the place.  Seven, if I remember correctly.   Or maybe it was nine.

The hardest part of photographing leopards is getting that long tail in the frame.

Mum finds some gooey dung and rolls in it to disguise her own scent.

The young one about to pounce on her mother, which happened in tall grass and not in our sight.

And then the mutual grooming...

Last night, Matt and Richard took us to see our first leopard—a three-year-old male near camp that was trying to sleep as the sun went down.  It was also trying to remain unnoticed by the impala and kudu that were near, so they wouldn’t sound the alarm.

It was all about survival for the leopard, who was trying to establish himself in this territory and did not want any run-ins with other males.

We left the leopard sleeping on his most excellent mound, almost hidden by the vegetation.

In a future chapter, I’ll talk about leopards again, and how a canny old male taught me a lesson about the ins and outs of habituation.

 More photos from Sabi Sands:

The beautiful, unequaled lilac-breasted roller.

The Go-Away bird, so-called because its cry sounds like "go-away."  There are at least two of the chicks in this photo, plus two adults.   Note the thorny nest.

Go-Away bird

Natal spurfowl, I think.

This bird, a dark-capped bulbul, and its friends led me on a merry, frustrating chase around camp until they took pity and let me take ohotos.

Same as above.

Yellow-billed hornbill.

Red-billed hornbill.

Mum and daughter.

The Africa Journals of 2018, Ch. 2: Skukuza and Kirkman's Kamp

When James Stevenson-Hamilton, “a bachelor, a man of means, and a professional solider”, was appointed to the new and unheard-of position as the first warden of Sabi Nature Reserve in 1902, his orders from the also new Commissioner of Native Affairs were to “make himself generally disagreeable” and to eliminate poaching.

Stevenson-Hamilton obtained a map, a wagon, oxen, supplies, and ammunition and went into a land described as a “white man’s grave” in the wild, malaria-ridden bushveld of eastern South Africa.   Wildlife conservation at that time was a very controversial idea and debated heatedly in the South African parliament..

He accomplished his first order by immediately banning hunting within the reserve area, reportedly saying that if he could subsist on tinned meat rather than killing the nearest impala, so could the white men and natives who lived there.

 

A pastry for an on-board snack.

 

Then he ordered the native Tsonga's kraals (corrals or fences built of thorny brush for protection from predators) to be relocated out of the reserve.   And thus changed the native’s way of life forever.

Understandably, the Tsonga were not happy.   Stevenson-Hamilton was soon called by the Zulu word skukuza, which means “he who turned everything upside down,” or, in another interpretation, “the man who swept clean.”

Stevenson-Hamilton eventually gained the trust and friendship of the locals.   He remained past his two-year contract and became known as a dedicated conservationist of wildlife.  His efforts in having the Sabi reserve area designated a national park eventually resulted in the Kruger National Park being formed, and in 1927 the park received its first tourists.

Today, four more tourists, armed with multiple cameras and long lenses, land at Skukuza Airport, named after Stevenson-Hamilton, bound not for the 7500 square mile Kruger Park, but for Kirkman’s Kamp in the adjacent Sabi Sands Game Reserve.

 

Inside the small, cozy terminal.

After deplaning, we are met by Matt, who will be our ranger/guide for the next four days.  We load up in a safari vehicle and drive along a fence.   It isn’t the Kruger or the Sabi Sands areas that are fenced, but the Skukuza airport.  That makes for less perilous landings with no Cape buffalo or elephants on the 5000-foot runway.

Matt pulls up to the main lodge and we are transported back to the 1920s when Harry Kirkman homesteaded this area.  Artifacts and photos of the era abound inside various structures, with many containing original furniture from the same era.

Even the sign is historic, the framework being made from track rails of the defunct railroad that ran through this area.

Small gift shop at right.   In front of it is where we were met after every drive with wet towels for wiping off the dust.

More of the main lodge.

Marg and Holly at our welcoming talk.

The place is undeniably charming.   Though I suspect it was once a hunting lodge, it now hosts tourists and photographers in its 18 rooms, two rooms per bungalow.  Because it is unfenced and wild animals frequently wander through, we are confined to our quarters during hours of darkness.

“Wave a flashlight (provided) out the door and a security guard will come to escort you.”  

Holly and I adhere to this advice rigidly, unless we are slipping into Marg’s adjoining room in our cottage.   As we never see Laura from the next bungalow after dark, except at dinner, I guess she also obeys the dictum.

The only time we encountered trouble was during the daylight afternoon, in between safaris.   But, I digress and will save that story for another time.  Soon, I promise.

Holly and I share room 9, Marg 10, and Holly 11.  After we get somewhat settled and have lunch, I grab my camera and wander the grounds.

 

Holly and I make it a practice to take photos of our rooms before we mess it up.

\

Booze and soft drinks in the refrigerator below are all included.

This is how my laundry came back--cost all included.

The next safari will be mid-afternoon, after the heat of day begins to subside.   For photographers, it’s also the time when the harsh light begins to mellow.

Our bungalows were situated on a ridge overlooking the Sand River, where I spotted this Cape buffalo taking a mid-day rest.

 

Location of Kirkman's Kamp, adjacent to Kruger National Park.

More photos from Kirkman's Kamp:

I am gobsmacked.   All these birds are possible sightings:

 

 

Oh, yeah.   And these mammals. 

 

The outdoor dining pavilion.

Lunch was sumptuous affair, though for us, we opted to skip lunch after this one.   Why?   Because we arrived in camp for breakfast at 10 A.M., and lunch was at 1 P.M.   We did quite well on two meals a day, plus the snacks provided early morning and late afternoon.

Johannesburg to Skukuza