– life – bokdrols of wisdom –
So we did *sometimes* go where the signs *sometimes* said Notice: Maybe You Shouldn’t.
We were rescued by friendly Damara ous in the Namib desert, by feisty ous in tight khaki shorts on Mocambican beaches, and by faithful Bahá’ís at their picnic on the Báb’s birthday on a Malawian beach. Bless em all.
You just gotta have faith ye shall be rescued.
~~oo0oo~~
I first heard about this lovely lodge on Jejane Private Nature Reserve “up towards the Olifants River area” way back last century from Rob, one of the early members. Now at last I got to visit, thanks to Carl and Mandy, co-owners with four other families – all farmers around Harrismith and Bergville.
It was everything I’d imagined and more; we had a lovely stay with game drives, lots of laughter, great meals, lots of beer, sunshine, lots of rain. Carl and I were on our best behaviour as we were outnumbered, Mandy having brought in three young lasses from her distant past to stand by her. All from GHS – Grey-headed Sparrows? Or was it PSGH – Posh School Girls Har? I dunno, don’t quote me. We sensibly didn’t have those kind of schools in the vrystaat. We had schools that you just went to till you were allowed to leave and you didn’t endlessly talk about them for decades afterwards.
Mandy is full of nonsense and I am well-behaved. She told this raucous crowd before I arrived that I was ‘a genius,’ so, having not been taught manners or etiquette at whatever school for ladies it was, they ripped the ring out of that handle. I suffered. Or maybe Miss Manners did try to teach them, but the four of them stuck their fingers in their ears and yelled na na na NA na?
These four cheekily nominated me Airfryer Fundi, pretending they didn’t know what to do with the machine; so I, the least experienced in any kitchen, pushed, pulled and stroked various knobs so they could cook dinner. That seemed to work. Meantime its really just always 180⁰ for 20mins, fullstop.
The rain was lovely – not as hectic as in the Kruger Park next door, which had actually been closed down completely, if briefly. I got out just in time, driving from Berg en Dal camp in the SW corner of the park.
In Jejane, dams and pans that were mud puddles filled rapidly and overflowed. Streams rushed all over, threatening road crossings, but the level would soon drop and the roads remained good as the water soaked into the sand.
Paradise.
~~oo0oo~~
After Jejane I pulled into Waterval Boven on my way back to KwaZulu Natal, to an Inn I had visited years before. This time I had a less eventful stay. Quiet, early to bed.
The manne were curious at least, won’t say envious. Tom had caught five fish before the other ten or so anglers on the beach caught their first. Hey, Rasta! What bait are you using? Then they started catching too. And then the fish went off the bite. Tom only caught anther two. All small stone bream, he called them.
Maybe Tom had an advantage though? He had, after all, fished here before, in 2005:
This time he was his own gillie. No smelly fish bait for me.
~~oo0oo~~
Three days in Mfolosi’s Mpila camp with two demure young ladies.
We saw a few confrontations: Two male impala, two male lions, four rhino, with one male threatening the others. Nothing much came of these feints and threats, despite the loud shouts which came from the back seat, where the two demure young ladies were seated: FIGHT! Fuck him up!
Shocked, I was.
Actually to Ondangwa, but that doesn’t sing like Tipperary.
So after I’d dug myself out of the hole on the – I now know – Bravo cutline 4X4 trail **, I headed due west past Okongo and Eenhana to Okatope, tiny towns, then south to Ondangwa, big town. A thought: Eenhana must feel so eensaam being in Northern Namibia and not starting with an ‘O.’ Do they apologise for this, I wonder? Like, jammer Oom . .
I was looking for wifi to do emails and banking but no go, so I kept moving, looking for a campground to stay, or a lodge if I had to. Didn’t find any. Drove on and on all the way to Omuthiya where I decided I’d have to reluctantly return to Ondangwa for a better chance of lodging, as the sun was setting, big dark storm clouds loomed and intermittent showers fell. A beautiful 🌈 rainbow shone to the South East.
The clouds got blacker and stormier and lightninger till the heavens opened, my windscreen wipers impotent against le deluge; and then an impressive thunder-crack switched off all the lights in Ondangwa. Taking this as an omen to stop being so stubborn, I tucked my tail between my legs and reluctantly checked into the Protea hotel, getting soaked carrying my stuff in even though I’d parked just ten metres from the door. Ja, ‘strue, this wimp checked into a soulless hotel with his camper parked at the door.
Oh well, hot water, warm bed and, when the lights came back on, wifi.
I was the only person in the large dining room for breakfast the next morning; the food was fine but the mood was ruined. Softly in the background they were playing Jingle Bells. In October. Or maybe it was November, was it? Gave me jingled bowels, it did.
On to Etosha, where wide open plains stretched as far as my eyes could see – literally. To the east there was a low line of trees in the far hazy distance, but to the west the grassland continued uninterrupted to the horizon. Herds of springbok, gemsbok and zebra scattered themselves about so as to look picturesque and Africa-y.
I had a good look around Namutoni camp. My last visit had been in 1986 and my first way back in 1969. The fort looked the same, but I think the camp behind it has grown.
Now my destination was Kakombo farm outside Omaruru, but first this ou had to drive through some more ‘O’s’ – Otavi and Otjivarongo.
~~oo0oo~~
eensaam – lonely; spare
jammer Oom – sorry Oom
Oom – uncle
** from Tracks 4 Africa map – thanks!
images from https://www.etoshanationalpark.org/ – thanks! I forget to take pics sometimes.
‘Middle’ being a middelmannetjie; ‘You’ being four Big Beef Bulls. It was Louis’ fault, of course.
I usually go nowhere slowly, but right now I was in a slight hurry, and I had an actual destination for a change. This hurry relative to my normal pace would slow down my progress, as we’ll see. I had just left the beautiful Cubango river in the pic above, which forms the Angolan border with Namibia. I wanted to meet Louis on his farm Kakombo outside Omaruru in two days time.
Go via Tsumeb, said Louis. No, that’s tar! I protested. Ah, said Louis, I also like the back roads; There is another way. I thought it was a cutline but when I went down it it was fine. The D3600? I asked, looking at my maps.me app. Yes, I think so, said my Local Knowledge Personal Route Advisor, not looking at a map. The one that goes dead straight south for about 130km? Yes, I think so, he said. He didn’t say when he had been down that road; nor what he’d been driving – I now know he drives a macho Namibian 4X4 called toyota (which is a Herero word for ‘rugged’) with wheels like a large John Deere. You know what those ous in khaki are like.
As I turned off the tar I thought ‘piece o’ cake.’ A good sand road. Third gear, 40kmh, smooth and a low middelmannetjie. In the dips it was softer and I’d have to change down to second. There were three surfaces: Reddish sand was firmer; light cream was deeper and the lightest grey sand was the deepest and softest. Keep up the momentum through those hollows, I told my driver. Surprisingly, some stretches were jarringly corrugated under the sand! 4X4 ous blame these corrugations on 2-wheel drive vehicles but 2X4 me tells them the 2X4 forums say 4-wheel drive vehicles are to blame. Luckily, so far none have asked me about those non-existent forums. They’ve just laughed at me. But I’m used to that.
After a few km’s I was thinking Uh Oh! and then soon it was 2nd gear and 30kmh with only occasional 3rd gear and 40kmh; After 50km of Uh Oh! it just got too deep, I lost momentum, slammed into 1st gear, but no go; I came to an abrupt halt. Stuck in the middle.
So I switched off and let rip with a long string of all my swearwords, repeating many of them and searching for the best ones.
Then I stopped to think. And what I thought of was that I was near the Angolan border and they speak Portuguese there, which reminded me of the Portuguese swearwords Abel Luis Aparicio Caixinha had taught me in primary school, ca.1966. So I let rip with those a few times. I thought that might help.
Cleverly, I had got stuck next to a lovely shade tree, so I left the Ford Ranger in the blazing sun and went to stand under the tree to think. I was not alone. Those four Big Beef Bulls I mentioned lay chewing the cud and staring at me thoughtfully through half-closed lids. I could see what they were thinking. They were thinking What A Doos.
What I was thinking is, I’m glad Aitch isn’t here. She’d be asking me innocently – knowing full well that I hadn’t: Did you bring a spade this time? Just because I had got her stuck in deep sand in the Namib desert thirty years ago, she’d assume I hadn’t brought a spade again. Correctly. If I patiently explained – again – But Think of the Weight I Saved, she’d roll her eyes so hard she’d see her occipital cortex. Again.
I thought Better Start Digging, but the shade was cool so I lingered. Me and the bulls were not alone. Each of them had a thousand flies buzzing around their bums and on the bovine crap which covered every inch of shady ground. A few dozen made a beeline straight from those bums to my lips and my Ffff! Phhh! Ffff! and slapping my cap at them startled the bulls, so they jumped up and stared at me through wide-open eyes, thinking What a Doos. Standing, I could see they were fully-qualified bulls, not cows or oxen. I needed visual proof, not being a good farmer.
I’d run out of thoughts and excuses now, so there was nothing else for it: I’d have to dig. I stepped out into the hot African sun and knelt next to the right rear wheel and started digging. Five seconds later I was back under the tree. Damn! that sand was fiercely hot on my bare knees, shins and foot arches!
Once I got a towel to kneel on I did the wheels one by one followed by a break under the tree to cool down. Then I let down each of the tyres to 1.1 bar, again with a shade break. This undid my initial dig so I needed to repeat, but only after digging out the fifth wheel: the spare slung underneath, buried in the middelmannetjie. One more round of digging in the same sequence and I was ready.
Time to fire outa here. I was determined to get out at first attempt. A failed attempt would dig me down towards Australia and I’d be stuck here until someone happened to drift down this lonely road as no-one had all day so far. Taking a deep breath I started off with a 3L turbodiesel roar in first gear and difflock for two metres, slammed into reverse and rocked back six metres, back into first and forward! Into second gear, and keep it up for the 300m to the harder red sand. I was out! Much better with 1.1 pressure, should have done that earlier. Plus removed my spare from under the vehicle!
On the hard stuff I stopped to think. 40 to 50km of known track down, about 80 to 90km of unknown challenge to go. Retreat! A four-point u-turn had me heading back north, exhaust pipe tucked under my bumper, discretion beating valour. Back on the tar I pumped all tyres back up to 2.4, swallowed an ice-cold tonic from my fridge and headed west, past Eenhana, then south to Ondangwa.
My day was far from over, but that story will need another post.
~~oo0oo~~
middelmannetjie – raised hump in the middle of a twin track
ous – men
ous in khaki – real men; hard to see when they stand in front of a khaki background; the background in Namibia is often khaki coloured
Didn’t think to take photos of the stuck Ford Ranger, or the bulls, or the shade tree! Damn! Aitch would have got pictures of my bum as I dug sand with my hands, as she did, here in the Namib, ca. late-1990s. Also in a 2X4, two of the wheels not helping, just nogschlepping.
~~oo0oo~~
Camped at Simanya River Lodge near Nkurunkuru. Quite an operation! Big chalets overlooking the river; Huge convention hall, a chapel, a restaurant. Smart campsites, each with own kitchen and bathroom. Phew! Seems OTT?
In the tree above my camp, a Yellow-bellied Greenbul seemed to be ‘anting’ or ‘de-lousing’ a juvenile Drongo. Even while an adult Drongo looked on. Seemed strange.
Saw a Copper Sunbird pair – LIFER- at the deck in front of Simanya Camp’s convention hall overlooking the wide blue Cubango River – some 100km west of where they’re meant to be found! I rushed to fetch my camera, but they were gone. No evidence! I’ll watch to see if other birders confirm. Mosque Swallows, Bee-eaters. Must find my birdlist (if I made one).
On to Louis’ connection Winni Metzger at Kanyikamma Rest Camp. What an operation Winni and vrou Metzger run! Shops, farming, butchery, a lodge and much more. I stayed in one of their big smart stone chalets.
A Dutch couple on a tandem bicycle arrived. They had cycled from Windhoek to Angola and were on their way to the Caprivi. Sandy roads on a tandem with skinny-ass tyres is not my idea of fun, but they were young, skinny-ass themselves, and full of spirit and can-do! They were looking forward to the tar roads ahead of them.
Southward now – down to Etosha, then on to Omaruru where schoolmate Louis lives on Kakombo farm.
~~oo0oo~~
Lee in Maun had recommended Rainbow River Lodge on the Kavango River near Popa Falls. It was great. Lodge owner Deon was welcoming and helpful. He took me boating to see Carmine Bee-eaters and the beautiful cataracts called Popa Falls.
Twice I drove south to Bwabwata Park, also on the right bank of the Kavango, downstream.
Back at Rainbow, I watched skeins of duck and geese fly downriver; and a mokoro paddle past, from my deckchair.
Hippo, crocs and otters in front of the riverbank campsites, plentiful birdlife. Rainbow Lodge is really worth a visit.
Next I’d be tracking the Kavango river upstream till it becomes the Cubango – the border between Namibia and Angola. I’d be getting my first-ever glimpse of Angola.
~~oo0oo~~
Bridges – I have since found out about all the new bridges that cross the two mighty rivers in the region, where before, ferries did duty.
Across the Cubango/Kavango/Okavango: In Namibia – At Rundu into Angola; At Divundu from Namibia into the Caprivi; In Botswana at Muhambo; I saw these three on my travels and got a distant pic of the Muhambo Bridge’s ‘elephant tusk’ supports looking south from Namibia’s Bwabwata park.
Across the Zambesi – At Katimo Mulilo from Namibia into Zambia; At Kazungula from Botswana into Zambia.
I haven’t driven across any of these. Yet.
On to NAMIBIA
Just across the border I turned off into Bwabwata National Park which runs along the floodplain on the right bank of the Kavango river.
I should have posted sooner, as I have forgotten where – or if – I wrote a bird list for the drive. I do remember counting about 150 Marabou Storks mulling about on the ground while another 150 circled overhead. Fascinating birds.
Up in the northwest of Botswana a magnificent river enters the country. Called the Cubango in Angola, the Kavango in Namibia and the Okavango in Botswana, it’s in the top twelve longest and biggest rivers in Africa. Unusual in that it doesn’t reach the sea. Instead, it discharges into the Kalahari Desert and forms the famous Okavango Delta. I have been into that stunning Delta on numerous occasions, but I had never visited “the panhandle.” Till now.
Swamp Stop is a well-known camp which bills itself as the gateway to the Okavango Delta. It’s up in NW Botswana near Sepupa village, about 50km south of the Namibian border.
The camp has been around since Bobby Wilmot’s days and they know exactly what is needed. They have friendly people, a long shady bar, a lovely deck overlooking the channel, a restaurant providing good grub, two cool pools, chairs and tables under cover and under the trees, and accommodation ranging from comfy chalets to great campsites. And much more, I’m sure. Boats for hire to get into the Delta, for instance.
Drotsky’s Cabins is another well-known stop a bit further north near the bigger town of Shakawe. The campsites are splendid. Huge trees and lots of birds and animals on the riverbank. Including a very horny donkey Jack complaining loudly – and for hours! – that the Jenny of his desires was being mean to him. Meantime, she was just ignoring his bleating horniness.
~~oo0oo~~
Bev said Hop In! so Janet and I hopped into her Prado automatic and glided off smoothly NE to Khwai village, on the border of Botswana’s Moremi Game Reserve. A much smoother ride than my old bakkie, was Bev’s Prado. We were working – we were going to check out a bridge on the river Kwai – I mean a lodge on the river Khwai called The Termite Mound Guest House. “We” meaning Bev – Janet and I were just backup crew. Happy nogschleppers.
We loved the cleverly designed lodge. Two big metal ship containers form the lower outer walls. One is the kitchen and pantry, one is an en-suite bedroom. Impressive Zanzibari doors lead into the lovely open space between them; ideal for dining and lounging al fresco. All the other walls are canvas; the roof is tin with skylights, raised up high on impressive gumpoles. Above the containers, two en-suite bedrooms with their own verandas and wonderful views. Solar power heats the water and powers the batteries that run lights and fridge. Comfortably ‘off the grid.’
Bev is an experienced and accomplished guide who knows the area well, so we drove all along the Khwai and into the fringes of Chobe Game Reserve with her telling us about the various places to stay and camp. The waters of the Okavango spilling into the Kalahari bring life abundant and I remarked in awe as we sat at one lagoon, ‘It’s like an aviary!’ Here’s a partial list I recorded: Great white Egret; Rufous-bellied Heron; Little Egret; Reed Cormorant; Darter; Black Crake; Striated Heron; Black-crowned Night Heron; White-faced Duck; Egyptian Goose; Lilac-breasted Roller; African Fish eagle; African Jacana; and some Lechwe antelope were hanging about.
When we left for home we headed into Moremi Game Reserve, crossing a bridge on the river Khwai:
Good rain had fallen, making some roads tricky, but Bev waded through with panache. We had lunch overlooking a pan. On the way out I said. ‘I’d love to see an Arnot’s Chat again,’ and Bev said ‘There’s one!’ I got a pic – will add it when I find it (done below). Meantime, talking of lunch, here’s a leopard eating an impala, crocs eating a hippo and lions chilling, probly after dinner:
~~oo0oo~~
Driving Mahonie (mahogany) Loop north of Punda Maria camp in June 2022, I heard parrots shrieking. Big old trees abound, including Mkuhlas – the Natal Mahogany Trichilia emetica. Scanning the trees I spotted them. Hey, they’re bigger! Those are Cape Parrots. A new species for my trip. Whoa, Wait. There’s been some splitting. These are now a new species: It’s a LIFER: Grey-headed Parrot (Poicephalus fuscicollis)!
And now I see it’s also called the Brown-necked Parrot, dunno why? The ones I saw had a grey heads and necks.
Up near Pafuri, soft rain fell in bright sunshine. A Monkey’s Wedding! This is baobab and mopane woodland country. The sunlight emphasised the ‘autumn’ colors of the mopani leaves. It was neat to see the dirt roads drizzled clean, with no vehicle tracks, making it easy to see if there were any new animal tracks.
At the bridge over the Luvhuvhu, another LIFER: a Mottled Spinetail (Telacanthura ussheri). Baobab trees hint at the possibility of their presence, but I’ve tried in vain for years to see them clearly enough to identify. Today they co-operated!
In Punda camp I got parked in by a German couple in a huge overland truck. To get out I nudged one of their huge spare tyres with my spare tyre so I could make my turn, causing the lady to rush out shouting blah blah like a Karen. I said relax, fraulein. Later they pulled into a site near mine and that was it, no door or window opened, they stayed inside. They had aircon running, and an onboard toilet, shower and kitchen. I didn’t see them stick a nose outside the whole time they were there! They must have though, as the next day there were two deck chairs outside. Touring in a hermetically sealed truck, keeping Africa at arms length! Different.
Not much accommodation north of Punda Maria. A couple of private lodges, and a camp near the Mocambique border which was full, but “Try River Camp,” the helpful fella at Pafuri gate suggested. I was glad he did. So Saturday and Sunday nights were outside the park at Pafuri Rivercamp, a lovely spot, I recommend it. It rained on the way there, ca.4pm and on & off to 7pm. The camper proved rainproof and cosy in my beautiful campsite under big shady trees. Each site has its own rustic shower and kitchen with gas geyser and paraffin lamps. As I fell asleep Eastern Olive Toad ‘ruarks’ from the nearby Mutale River filled the night. The Mutale flows into the famous-for-birders Luvhuvhu, which I finally got to see after reading about it for decades. The Luvhuvhu flows on into the more famous Limpopo where SA, Zimbabwe and Moçambique meet near ‘Crooks Corner,’ land of myths about crooks, rustlers, smugglers and fugitives.
Saddle-bill Stork
White-crowned Lapwing
Heuglins Robin-chat (white-browed)
Mosque Swallow
Magpie Shrike
Black-crowned Tchagra
Brown-crowned Tchagra
Burchells Coucal
White-crested Helmet-shrike
Tawny Eagle
Bateleur
Collared Sunbird
White-bellied Sunbird
Marico Sunbird
Terrestrial Brownbul
White-fronted Bee-eater
Fish Eagle
Red-bill Firefinch
Red-headed Weaver
Pin-tailed Whydah
Long-tailed Paradise whydah +○
Greater honeyguide calling
Wire-tailed swallow
Rock Martin
Dickinsons Kestrel
Cut-throat Finch
Red-billed Quelea
Terrestrial Brownbul
Black-headed Oriole
Red-capped Robin-chat
Yellow-bellied Greenbul
Yellow-breasted Apalis
Scimitarbill
Golden-tailed Woodpecker
Emerald-spotted Wood-dove
Verreaux’s eagle Owl heard
‘Pafuri picnic site is beautiful’ is an understatement. I have little doubt most places called ‘Eden’ are a pale shadow of Pafuri picnic site on the right bank of the Luvhuvhu. Bias, sure.
Notes for next time: Check out Kloppersfontein again. Spend a full day at Pafuri picnic site, a really a very special spot on the Luvhuvhu – see the insert pic in the collage above. Lots of birds; Big gang of Banded Mongooses; Big Nyala bulls soft-shoe stepping around each other in an elaborate polite-yet-wary macho display, vervets being chased by the camp superintendent. Nyala road nearby is beautiful.
~~oo0oo~~
Next – on to Mapungubwe.
Out on the Makalamabedi road south of Maun the Boteti river is flowing nicely. Three or four of the pipes have a swift current and the birds are loving it. And I only got two pictures, none of the lovely scene!
. . and then there’s the salubrious suburb of Tsanakona and Janet’s patch there on the right bank of the fascinating Tamalakhane River. Quite one of my favouritest places in the world!
Lee organised his umpteenth trip to the CKGR – the Central Kalahari Game Reserve – and my first! His frequent fellow-travelers Hans and Karina joined him on their annual visit from the Netherlands; as did Dwayne the pilot; he also invited Janet – and me! At last, a trip to a long-desired destination.
We headed east to Makalamabedi, then south along a long cutline to Motsware gate. On to Deception Pan. Kori campsite No.2 I think.
Day trips in Lee and Dwayne’s Toyotas to Owen’s camp for sundowners; Sundays Pan – water pumped; Campsite on dune for brunch – delish; Leopard Pan.
Struggling to get a deckchair back into its bag, Lee says he knows why. At the factory in Australia the worker asks, Where’s This Batch Going? Suffefrica, says the foreman. Right, make the bags 10% smaller, they all shout in unison.
I got a Lifer at Sundays Pan: Barred Wren-warbler
illustration from Newmans app, thanks!
~~oo0oo~~
Here’s how it works: Thirty-some years ago I was invited to a wonderful gathering with great friends Dave & Goldie who’d just had twins to add to their Tatum. There was good food thanks to Goldie and lots of beer which Dave may have had something to do with. Also there was something in a church, I dunno why, but hey! Did I mention the food and beer?
Turns out childless, clueless me had said something in church that was actually a lifelong commitment! I had joined the Mafia become a Godfather! I immediately set about neglecting my duties, but when the twins Stuart n Gary started performing terrifically in the famous Dusi Canoe Marathon I mumbled Them’s My Godsons and got told to shurrup.
But now! NOW! Googs has just run the famous Comrades Marathon in the insanely quick time of 7hrs 14mins – over 15mins inside silver medal time! So once again I step forward out of the shadows. Although claiming some influence on his good performance, I did mention that I hadn’t won my Comrades when I ‘did it’ back when we wore heavy hobnailed boots and hand-knitted vests.
Being the gentleman he is, Googs sms’d me back: Chuffed you are back to claim godfathership! Glad I could lure you back from retirement.
Less than a week later I became a Granpa for the first time. Nonsikilelo ‘Ziggy’ had a baby boy on Saturday!
Tom is claiming godfathership! Knowing Zig she probly did confer the honour on him! He’s super-chuffed. Will prolly walk around with his chest out and do nothing, just like his father before him. **Some people!**
Zigs asked urgently for name suggestions. It seems if you name the child they can give you his birth certificate there-and-then in maternity. If you dither, you have to queue at home affairs later.
I know! I know! It’s obvious: Peter Frank Ngcobo, I suggested helpfully. Ziggy fell about laughing. I don’t know why. OK, Koos Ngcobo I cried desperately. She actually considered that for half a second. But nah. And he became Melokuhle, Melo for short.
~o0o~
Now – Sept 2023 – he has turned one, and he’s walking! All of a sudden. Time flew. My grandson Melokuhle:
Hope he’s not getting his grandad’s hair!
~o0o~
Mopani camp was full. How about Letaba? I asked. Sorry, its also full. Sometimes getting into the Kruger National Park can be challenging. Let’s look outside the Park, Jessie; say within an hour of this Phalaborwa gate. Aha! She found Tingala Lodge on booking.com within our budget – set at R900 for the both of us sharing. And what a happy diversion it turned out to be. About 15km north of the Phalaborwa gate into Kruger Park, Tingala Lodge is terrific.
While we chilled on the big patio overlooking a waterhole, a lady arrived in a double-cab bakkie and I noticed a couple of cases of Painted Wolf wine being carried into her room. When she joined us on the patio where I was nursing a G&T, I said, ‘Lovely Wine, that Painted Wolf. My sister sells it in Durban.’
Oh, she said, Your sister must be Sheila! It’s my wine. My husband is the winemaker. I’m visiting lodges promoting it, asking them to include it on their wine lists. All sales help with Wild Dog conservation. I’ve just stayed at Lion Sands.
‘Yep, Sheila’s my sister. I love the labels,’ I said, ‘Who does your artwork?’
Originally, an artist who worked on a game lodge in Botswana.
‘Which lodge?’
Lloyds Camp on the Savute channel.
‘I knew an artist at Lloyds Camp,’ I said, ‘Jenny Song, she was there when we visited way back when.’
It was Jenny! She did our original artwork.
‘What a lovely person, we got on so well with her. My wife Trish bought something she painted. We had such a special time there,’ I said. ‘When we flew in from the Delta, back in the day, we were picked up at the landing strip by Emma, a young pink-cheeked Pom who said she was the chef, and she was on guest-fetching duty that day. She loaded us into the open Landrover and drove us right up an elephant’s bum at the waterhole on the way to camp. When we got to camp Emma had prepared a delicious lunch for us overlooking the camp waterhole in the channel, and we ate and drank ice-cold beers looking down on eles heads as they drank freshly-pumped water.’
I’m that Emma! said this Emma! I worked with Lionel and Jenny Song in Lloyds Camp in 1993. I loved driving new arrivals to Pump Pan to watch the eles.
In 2022 we had bumped into Emma the pink-cheeked Pom from our 1993 trip to Lloyds Camp! You sadly just have to behave wherever you go – someone, somewhere will know you – even 29 years later!
I carried on reminiscing about our time in Savute: ‘Our fellow guests were cabin crew from SouthWest Airlines in Texas, the world’s biggest airline at the time. We had to chase lions because of them and Lionel. They caught a giraffe as we chased after them, and we had to sit for ages watching them eat it.’
That would be Doug and Linda, said Emma, and you won’t believe it, I was in contact with Linda just yesterday. We have kept in touch ever since! She’ll be amazed when I tell her who I met today.
I’m so glad Kruger Park was full that night!
~o0o~
I’ve since read Lloyd Wilmot’s book and he mentions Doug and Linda.
The next day we were due at Mopani Camp in Kruger, so we only stayed one night at Tingala Lodge. I’d love to go back. The birding was terrific, and on the way out we saw an African civet in broad daylight.
~o0o~
Birds at Tingala Lodge
Dark chanting goshawk - Brubru - Pearl-spotted owlet
Buffalo weaver - Groundscraper Thrush
Fiery-necked Nightjar calling
White Helmet-shrike - Arrow-marked Babbler
Golden-breasted Bunting - Black-headed Oriole
Fork-tailed Drongo - Crested Barbet - Black-bellied Starling
Sabota Lark
Update 2026: This week I met a lovely couple Dave and Debbie, who wanted to inspect my AHA camper. We spoke about Botswana and Savuti. Talk got round to Lloyd Wilmot, and Dave said, ‘I landed up upside-down in a Piper Cub with Lloyd at the controls; back when I was a 16yr-old helping to build Xaxanaxa Camp.’ Top that story!
