AT LONG LAST, A DELAYED ACCOUNT OF THE ACCLAIMED KRUGER NATIONAL PARK – HOME OF ‘THE BIG 5’

The South African town of Nelspruit is neatly tucked into a crease of northeast South Africa that sits just about Swaziland.  It is the hub for tourists bound for the southern border of Mozambique, and the internationally acclaimed game reserve of Kruger National Park (about 55 kilometers away).

I arrived greatly looking forward to my long-planned  meetup on March 27^th (2014) with my world travel mentor, a US citizen and a man we shall now simply call “He That Won’t Be Named” (henceforth, HTWBN).  Our months of planning and meetings generated high expectations for what was hoped would be four glorious safari buddy days together in Kruger.

This is a rendezvous I had been looking forward to for eight months.  One objective of going to Africa extensively in the first place was to accompany HTWBN to the last of two places he needed to visit all 196 ‘countries’ in the United Nations’ official list of members.  This list completion at my urging was to take place in later visits to South Sudan, and The Central African Republic.

Before long, I confront the reality that he and I will travel to these two countries separately.  For, as I would soon discover, my would-be travel partner can’t be pinned down to any particular plan.  At first I attribute this to the tragic loss of his wife Anne (his partner of 26 years) two months prior.  Or perhaps to his being a little woozy, from having hit his head on an overhead air conditioner in the hour before I arrived at the Bavarian Inn in Nelspruit to join him.

But mostly, the situation can be attributed to the fact HTWBN holds cards tighter to his vest than Wild Bill Hickock playing the Dead Man’s Hand in his final seconds in 1876 South Dakota.  He is, in short, a control addict.  Not taking pains to hide his usual distinction to dominate any agenda, he makes clear immediately things must be his way, even when not occurring on his turf.  Otherwise his badgering can grow to the unconscionable.

This character trait was not altogether new.  I’d met him three years earlier on isolated Easter Island in the South Pacific.   He was much more affable early on.  He was quicker to laugh, capable of appreciation, and capable of a grudging compliment now and then.  He was one who could enjoy the repartee of give and take, trade mutual barbs, but most of all engage in rousing discussions about how and where to find the most interesting spots on the planet.

That changed however once we started visiting regularly back in the States.  To my surprise he could now be rude on a whim, very insensitive, and arrogant (I attributed that to the pride one gleans from having visited nearly every country on earth, and then some).  But what I found most troubling was his need to hijack any topic that did not please him and crudely steer it to a new conversation topic of his choosing.  Listening was not part of his skill set.  He would be suddenly dismissive and just for the sake of playing devil’s advocate, argumentative.  He wanted to be at the helm of the boat at all times.

This did not prevent me from wanting to stay in the loop still and maintain an appreciation for HTWBN at times prior to our departure for Africa.  He displayed his occasional charm and and intelligence, and never ceased to surprise me with his knowledge of plants, constellations, foreign foods, towns, transport means, and travel routes.  Most of all, I appreciated him for being a great raconteur.  The man was a Grade-A storyteller.  I could probably write another travel book based merely on things this man had already forgotten.  It was fair to say I had a cautious but sincere affection for him.

Perhaps it was Anne’s missing presence that now gave him such an edge.  She had humanized him, ignoring his sharper points, lovingly talking past him when he got too critical or controlling.  She provided the necessary warmth and affection to mitigate his need to always be right.  She could counterbalance an argument, often joining my side on issues dear to me, to the point that even he appreciated the artful arrangement of the tag- team arrayed against him.  I tried mightily to give him the benefit of the doubt for current tensions in the absence of her compromise-inducing grace.

One of our initial joint tasks was to go food shopping.  Kruger offers a number of dining options, but the in-park restaurants are fairly expensive.  Taking your own grub and preparing it in-house is the best solution, especially if you arrive after hours from a hard day of four wheeling in search of game.  A travel companion and I put $25 into first-day groceries.  HTWBN contributed a can of beans, two tomatoes, and a can of tinned beef he’d found on sale at an economy food outlet on the way in. He then took half the newly combined food to the trunk of his car.

I was used to this penurious stance.  When we met, he generally required that I would bring my own alcohol to our planned visits.  “You’ll have to come up for the world’s best tequila,” he would often say when inviting me over for planning sessions.  Then fail to provide the liquor.  On another occasion, he offered to treat me for lunch.  He handed me a magazine coupon for $5.39 worth of tacos.  “Anything over this you pay for yourself,” he announced.  “And whatever you drink is on you.”

I had tried to arrange for the two of us to ride in one rental car during our four days in Kruger.  That would mean that one of us could turn their car in early, and save money.  Even better would be a splitting of the cost, in the same way we had split the cost of the lodges for our four nights there.  HTWBN would have none of it.  The potential loss of control was too daunting for him.  So we paid separate vehicle fees and duplicated fuel expense, and entered the park in two different cars at the southwest Numbi Gate.

That part having been decided, it was time to visit the world-renowned Kruger National Park – a park that offers a wildlife experience that ranks among the best in the world.

The park was established in 1898 to protect the wildlife of the South African lowlands (lowveld). Covering some 5 million acres of South Africa National Parks, Kruger is unrivalled in the diversity of its life forms and a world leader in advanced environmental management techniques.  It is also more affordable than most game parks.

As the flagship of the South African National Parks, Kruger is home to an impressive number of species, including: 336 trees, 49 fish, 34 amphibians, 114 reptiles, 507 birds and 147 mammals.  Man's interaction with this lowveld bush environment over many centuries -- from bushman rock paintings to 300 stone aged archaeological sites like Masorini Hill  -- is very evident in Kruger. These treasures represent the cultures, people and milestones that played a role in the history of the park and are preserved along with its botanical assets.

Our two vehicles quickly lose sight of each other within a few miles of entering the park.  I had assumed HTWBN would lead (he having been in the park previously), and was not sure which way to go for the best game viewing despite having a map in hand.  I knew only that by late afternoon I needed to be at Skakuza Camp, about 120 kilometers distant.  You must be within the camp enclosures by dusk, as the only assured means of protection against predatory animals such as roaming lions.  With what information was available, I chose to immediately head north on a side road to get the greatest chance of wildlife sighting away from the main H1-1 paved road.

The sightings did not disappoint.  I remember immediately being treated to a herd of leaping impala, some of them nearly gracing the hood of my car in the process.  Their sentries seemed to be very wary, very alert while the bulk of the herd fed and rested nearby.  They were not particularly wary of the sight of the car.  The sudden sound of the vehicle accelerating is what spooked them the most.  I have them locked in memory, freeze-framed in midair in their irregular bounding leaps over both the car and each other.

Giraffes were also very much in evidence.  They do not hang at a distance and are not at all fearful of visitors.  They come right up to the road to eat from tall acacia trees not yet denuded of leaves.  At times, you have to wait a few minutes to let them dine, and move on.  They are surprisingly affectionate creatures.  Upon review, I find most of my photos of them involve nuzzling, romantic cheek-to-cheek poses, and frequent side-to-side rubbing.

These graceful loping creatures are amazingly resistant to attack.  They co-exist easily with elephants and appear to fit in effortlessly with all animals. Lions, despite being able to take down even elephants when starving, must be careful how and when to attack a giraffe.  They need to attack in force (usually catching them in the dark, or while sleeping, by wounding the carotid artery in the neck).  A well placed kick from a giraffe will permanently disable a lion attacking from the wrong angle with a single blow.

Battles between old and young giraffes during the rut can also be an amazing encounter.  The young ones, of course, have energy and stamina.  The older ones are cunning and have superior years as survivors.  Younger males will attempt to wear an older adversary out with frequent head butts, or violent arching snaps of neck and head into the exposed necks of their opponent.  Watching this is the sidelong version of watching two bighorn sheep ram each other repeatedly head to head.  Older males, on the other hand, tend to swing their neck and head downward at the last second into shoulder and even knee joints.  The youthful but unschooled male limps away humbled almost every time.

Also on this first day in Kruger fellow visitors and I were frequently able to witness darting bands of warthogs with their razor sharp tusks, and herds of muscular but fairly placid Cape Water Buffaloes.  We also watched ever screeching baboons with their memorable inflamed pink bums go wherever they want -- as long as they are within easy reach of trees.   The highlight of the day, though, was seeing an endangered black rhino, so close at twenty-five feet that I can practically see my own image in its eyes.  Its huge curving horn is pointed directly at the car and a large question mark nearly masks my reflection:  “To charge, or not to charge?”

Skukuza Lodge is situated on the southern banks of the Sabie River, only a few kilometers inside the park’s western edge, and is one of the most accessible camps in Kruger National Park. The camp is well-foliated with many lofty trees along the river's edge.  Activities and facilities are quite diverse.  I run into HTWBN at the camp registration building.  We discover that even with advance reservations, the check-in procedure is rather tedious.

A pattern which often repeats itself in Africa is the lack of interface between paper forms and computer data online and how it necessitates lengthy delays.  Add to that a personnel shortage – with several employees appearing to linger within sight during breaks – and the frustration grows.  Most endure this gracefully.  After all, “This is Africa.”  Not HTWBN.  He took great pains to complain loudly and at length.  The one clerk who attempted to handle our cabin booking took the brunt of his aggression. He went so far as to shout out personalized insults at the shocked clerk.  The poor girl was nearly brought to tears.

The moment is only softened a bit when in the course of walking away I noticed a sign above the greeting/check-in desk that originally read “reception rates.” It had been scratched out and modified to read “deception rates.”

The evening meal marked the beginning of three full days of tension of not knowing if we would eat together, or dine alone.  Theoretically this was arranged in the morning, but did not guarantee HTWBN would stick to the plan.  For both breakfast and dinner (lunches were away while on day-trip game searches) there was always some sort of change.  This might involve a choice of food, whether to cook together or prepare meals singly, or deciding to dine out. When it came to purchased food the situation evolved into “what’s mine is mine and what’s yours is ours.”  I will leave it to the reader to decide whose benefit that development favored.

The man was seasoned at looking after his own needs and this was evidenced by HTWBN’s practice – no, need really – to always arrive at camp first.  This maneuver enabled him to pick the best bed, the best perches for drying clothes, hog the electrical outlets, dominate the kitchen with his layout, and the ‘right’ to choose when to shower (and use the bulk of the hot water).  It also provided the opportunity to snatch the closest parking place.  His selfiishness would then proceed to drinking all of the liquor that had endlessly been intimated would be shared.

Adding to my frustration with his overall stinginess were several situations, beginning on day one, when HTWBN stole items from the camps.  The man was a millionaire (and explained away his unexpected kleptomania by saying his Dad had gone through the Depression and passed on the frugality habit) and yet stole salt and pepper shakers, and a cabin frying pan.  I found the only antidote to my growing disappointment was to maximize time spent apart during the day, and to seek out company with other campers.

On the way in to the next camp on the second day in Kruger I encounter more giraffes, elephants, rhinos and a few springboks.  There was a slight hint of disappointment in the air however: what everybody really wanted to see though was The King of Beasts.  No lions were present.  At least on my complicated route.

Which brings to mind an amusing game prevalent when one seeks to find a particular animal and does not find it -- the rumor.  How do visitors compensate for not seeing their big game of choice? By parking in droves, two to three deep by the roadside, at what appears to be a sure lion, cheetah, leopard or other ‘Big Five’ game sighting.  There is much excited finger pointing and rapid adjustment of field glasses.

The further you are from the crosshairs of this frenzy, the more detailed the description.  “Lions, five of ‘em mate, not twenty-five yards off, just before the tall grass.  Two of ‘em are cubs!”  And yet when you arrive there are no lions.  Just a tail waving languidly in the tall grass bending with the breeze.  Usually the marshy version of a cat tail …

Which brings us to a reverse perspective.  How do animals look at us?  It is an interesting thought to ponder.  Do they size us up for a quick get-away?  Or a quick meal? What type of classification do they stratify us by?  The big silver ones with the throaty diesel roar, or the more catchable little white ones with round black paws and a four-cylinder whine?

Lions, for example, perceive us as rhino sized or larger (as long as you don’t lean too far out of your vehicle).  Stand up or separate yourself from the shadow and mass of the vehicle though … and you potentially become lunch.  I didn’t see many try this. 

Day two provided more routefinding challenges than the previous day’s driving.  I recall how tricky it was navigating multiple roads leading to Olifants Camp.  The park provided maps that were not to scale, did not include all the loops and intersections, and were barely indicative of what could be expected.  This led to very late arrivals at times.  It struck me how difficult it could be getting a flat tire near dusk in one of the more isolated backroad loops.  With poor light and generally dangerous conditions outside, one could really be in a pinch until rescue arrived the next morning.  You simply do not leave the car, certainly not long enough or with the exposure necessary to fix a tire.

Olifants Camp (whose name origin ought to be obvious) is situated atop a sweeping bluff, which looms several hundred feet over the Olifants River. Views from the lookout platforms perched on the bluff allow one to see the broad river below at a shallow crossing point where it curves around to the horizon.  Those armed with decent binoculars can easily spot elephants, hippos, Nile Crocodiles, and Martial Eagles.  Most people opt to just linger.  It is a perfect spot to relax, and as many choose – to hold hands, snuggle, talk softly, and sip something tall and cool.

After settling in at Olifants and hurrying through dinner due to continued discomfort with HTWBN, a small group of us treated ourselves to a night safari. We saw few critters.  We sighted primarily impalas again, and were pleased to catch unexpected views of hippo and rhino groupings.  We were visited by an owl that constantly postured in front of the bus, and a rare spotted leopard that dashed past us almost too quickly to raise cameras grabbed our momentary attention.  It was the robust stars unfettered by city lights that was most memorable, however.  The glittered inky night skies of Africa are a very special treat indeed.

On the morning of the third day in Kruger, just prior to heading further north, I am entertained by a quartet of park employees re-thatching several of the beehive cabin roofs.  This observation of their labors had a pleasing, hypnotic influence on me.  It was comforting to see that these traditional skills had not been lost and could still be utilized, not only for visitors but for locals should the need ever arise to fall back on inexpensive and locally sourced housing.

Once back on the road, my very first sighting was of vulture clusters feeding on fresh impala carcasses.  Normally a vulture is not much to look at. But watching one maneuver into the wind and land like a leaf in a soft breeze amidst a mass of its quarrelsome brothers is a sight not soon to be forgotten.  The extension and definition of each individual feather during such landings in near slow-motion makes the sight enthralling.

My journey continued through typical lowveld two-meter scrub greenery, red dirt patches, muddy watering holes, acacia trees with their branches bare right up to giraffe height, dry riverbeds, and brownish sandy/rocky/dry plain.  Eventually I witnessed entire herds of Thompson Gazelles, wildebeests, zebras, deer, springboks, and elephants and was quite pleased the day did not disappoint.

A highlight of the third day’s journey was stopping at the Iron Age village and smelting site of Masorini Hill.  This cone shaped peak with its huge boulders provides a natural protective shelter, 12 kilometers from the Kruger middle-west entry at the Phalaborwa entrance gate.  This gate provides access to our next overnight stay, Mopani Camp, two thirds of the way up Kruger toward the Zimbabwe border.

Masorini Hill consists of a large modern picnic area with ancient stone walls, grinding stones, pot shards, and the remains of smelting retainers which produced iron, gold, and copper as far back as the Stone Age.  After some inquiry, I learn that the village huts were excavated and restored in 1973.  Findings from the area paint a picture of the means of production employed by a hunter-gatherer tribe -- of people known as the ba Phalaborwa.  Insight is gained into the type of construction materials they used, their social structure, their agricultural efforts, and the nature of their commerce with nearby tribes.

Successful excavations have exposed hut floor foundations and artifacts that provide detailed clues as to the Phalaborwa way of life. Dome shaped clay furnaces which still remain intact today were used to smelt iron ore and moulded into spears, arrowheads and farming tools. These items were then traded for glass beads, ivory, animal products and food between the ba Phalaborwa and the nearby Venda tribe to the North (and later the Portuguese to the east).

The bulk of the day was spent weaving and crisscrossing middle Kruger’s dusty clay and dirt backroads leading to Mopani Camp (named after trees in the veld that surrounds it).  This proves to be a pleasant and unhurried means of spotting zebra bands and herds of meandering elephants.  We travel aficionados regularly and continuously offer up praise in such situations in the form of endless bottled water toasts to the safari gods for the provision of modern vehicle air conditioning.  It was vengefully hot outside!

On the banks of the Pioneer Dam lies what may be Kruger’s best kept secret, the Mopani Rest Camp.  It is situated amidst tree clusters of the same name in an interesting design arrangement where vegetation inside the camp is left largely untouched and mimics wild vegetation found immediately outside, creating a rather unique atmosphere.  A signature feature of this design is a huge ancient gnarled baobab tree in the heart of the camp.

My favorite portions of Mopani are the generously appointed cabins, and an artificial lake created by Cooper dam that extends right up to the lower pilings of the restaurant and deli building.  From this vantage point, visitors can escape the heat, indulge in a brew, and dine slowly while watching African Fish Eagles circle above.  It is not unusual to enjoy the visits of hippos, who are known to swim nearly up to diners’ feet.  This is a highly recommended stay for those seeking a tranquil retreat.

I find myself avoiding all meals with HTWBN.  This conscious choice adds to rising tensions between the two of us.  Despite his ongoing ambiguity as to “will we or won’t we dine together,” he finds my response to his behavior annoying.  I continue to do my best to avoid him, knowing full well in my mind that my fourth and final day in the park starting the following morning will be spent without him.  I take up an outdoor conversation instead with a fascinating captain of industry on holiday from Capetown.

This gentleman is an Afrikaner, of Boer descent and Dutch through and through.  He had next to zero of the more liberal British slice of South African white in him.  We had a very enjoyable conversation on the outside patio where I chose to concentrate on being an attentive listener, learning the Afrikaner perspective on the question as to ‘whose country is this really?’  His take on it was, the Dutch settled the South Cape in the 1650s, long before blacks arrived en masse to take advantage of economic opportunities and homesteads created by whites (much of the same argument is made by Jews in the arguments relative to Palestine and that same issue of “whose land is this, anyway?”).

Suddenly the lights go out in the middle of our conversation.  “It’s my bedtime.  You have talked long enough,” growled HTWBN.  He controlled the patio light switch from inside and hovered near it to enforce his preferences.  I complained, briefly passing through his room on the way to mine.  He was unmoved.  “You’re too loud.  I don’t want to listen to your crap anymore,” he sniped.

This was an unacceptable level of rudeness. I reflected for a moment at how quickly a bond can disintegrate, and so unilaterally as one of those mysteries of relational erosion.  But I’d had enough.  We brushed each other a little too closely as I returned to the outside to say goodbye and apologize to my guest.  Upon returning to my room, the conflict grew more heated.  In finally spoke up. “Shut your mouth, you miserable son of a bitch! I’ve had all from you I can stomach,” I bellowed. There was no ambiguity to my disaffection.

Needless to say, the situation ended badly.  When I awoke the next morning, furniture had been piled against my bedroom door so I could not leave.  I had to remove the bug screen and then window from inside my room to escape outside and reach my car.

As a result, I decided to forego a fourth day in Kruger, choosing instead to get to the rental car turn-in location at Polokwane (about two and one-half hours away to the southwest) to get an early start on Zimbabwe.  Reflecting on the prior evening and the sudden end of this streaky and puzzling relationship made for an interesting drive.  I hardly noticed the sights. I did notice upon arrival, that over 5000 kilometers had already been put on the vehicle in South Africa alone.

This ‘boots on the ground’ introduction to Africa had only scratched the surface.  This journey of mine was to reach well beyond 16,000 kilometers by all means of ground transport by the time I transited through 16 additional African countries two months later, ending in a flight from Cairo to the tip of the Sinai Peninsula at Sharm el Sheikh. This number only jump started yet-to-be-added mileage in Jordan, Israel, Turkey, Dubai, Nepal and six nations of East Asia which still lay on the trip horizon.