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tiny pups and two older ‘teens’ in a den.
They investigated my car and put on a
great family show.
Further on, I pulled off to photograph a
line of impala trudging, heads down, to a
puddle in the almost-dry Nwaswitsontso
river bed. Suddenly the tranquil plod burst
into chaotic action as they scattered like
spray in all directions. That meant only one
thing, and soon my binoculars picked out
two big, mane-less tawny heads – and two
little tawny heads.
The impala tried again. One lioness
dropped into a stalk, ears flattened. I
waited, she waited. On came the impala.
Then she exploded from the shadows in a
sprint. The impala took off and after a
good effort she pulled up, flanks heaving.
For the next hour I watched as various
thirst-driven antelope herds approached
cautiously. Rewind, repeat, until it got just
too hot and both the lionesses and I gave
up on a possible kill. Fortunately for me
there was a fine frikkadel lunch to be had
at the lovely Tshokwane Picnic Site, done
up like an old trading post – and with
moerkoffie and a good cappuccino too.
From the parched plains north of Tshok-
wane, I meandered south on the H1-10,
and three hours later entered a world of
flowing water, reed cormorants, cattle
egrets and herds of wallowing buffalo at
Lower Sabie. Little wonder both guests and
animals love it here.
‘It’s because of our sweet grass,’ camp
manager Bongile Louw told me, adding
that the camp is fully subscribed half an
hour after booking opens each year. Sweet
grass maybe, but I was rather taken by the
restaurant deck cantilevered over the river,
the huge sycamore figs, coral, marula and
fever trees and shady lawns.
There was an old dagga boy (buffalo) in
the reeds, regular elephant herds visiting,
a goliath heron fishing, a pride of lions on
the opposite bank making life miserable
for thirsty buffalo and the ‘good-lord-
deliver-us’ call of a fiery-necked nightjar
while braaiing. All without leaving camp.
On every foray from Lower Sabie I saw
lions. I also watched an elephant calf drink
from two different cows (suckling young do
that habitually), whiled away the hotter
hours in the stork- and heron-colonised hide
at Ntandanyathi, and on an evening game
drive, I met Dan the bird man. FromLondon, Dan was spending seven weeks
travelling the length of Kruger. Top of his
sightings list were a martial eagle eating an
impala lamb, holding a vigil (for eight
hours) with a leopard cub in a tree until its
mother came back, and watching lions and
cheetahs get ugly with one another at a kill.
Seven weeks! Over the years I’ve done
Kruger several different ways – private
lodge, family self-drive, entirely alone –
and all of them memorable for different
reasons. Given that I only had seven days
this time, my trip was very lucrative,
particularly as my final sighting was
a leopard and her cub.
Yet en route to Skukuza airport (for the
very convenient, but not cheap, direct flight
back to Cape Town) I caught myself
running, out of infernal habit, through my
confounded checklist: lions, hyena with
pups, leopard and cub ... but alas no
cheetah, my favourite of all the cats. In a
park the size of Israel, with 16 different
ecozones and Murphy’s Law not in your
favour, there are no guarantees, except this
one: you won’t see a tiger – unless it’s fried
in garlic butter and served on your prawn
salad at one of the private lodges.74 MAY 2019
TRAVEL KRUGER