He sees stories in its tawny, waist-high
grass, hears tell-tale notes in its bird-chatter
and insect-chirr. Right now, at 7am, the
temperature is already pushing 3 0C and the
scent of wild sage hangs on the land. Above
our stationary Land Cruiser, a white-backed
vulture perches on a dead acacia tree, its
feathers lit by the rising sun. Scotch takes a
long inhalation through his nose and tilts his
head. “Elephants,” he smiles. “Just wait.”
Within half a minute, the animals
materialise from the bush in ones and twos,
ears flapping and tails swishing, a herd of
30 heading for the water hole in front of us.
Near the shoreline, the excitement for some
of the younger elephants gets too much and
they jog ahead, sploshing into the lake. Soon
the whole family is knee-deep, drinking
great draughts of water and tossing trunkfuls
over their mountainous backs. There’s the
occasional trumpet-blast, like a brass section
tuning up in the South African dawn. Ours is
the sole vehicle in sight; only zebras dot the
horizon. “No rush,” says Scotch. “Let’s stay
here awhile.”
I’ve come to the Timbavati Private Nature
Reserve, part of the Greater Kruger area,
as the first stop on a road trip around the
northeast of the country, from Johannesburg
into the wilds of Mpumalanga and Limpopo
provinces, taking in what will turn out to be
three hugely contrasting wildlife destinations.
The Timbavati Reserve shares an unfenced
border with Kruger National Park, meaning
that whatever roams there, roams here.
With Scotch as a guide, it takes little time to
discover how true this is. Having touched
down in the country only the day before,
my first morning is an Attenborough blur: a
cheetah preening itself under a silver cluster-
leaf, mobs of wildebeest on the plains, giraffes
on a slow-motion canter in the drowsy heat. A
juggernaut of a buffalo appears and stares at us
unblinkingly while oxpeckers groom its flank.
Welcome to the bushveld.
In many ways Timbavati is the archetypal
upmarket safari destination — impala-
watching at sunset while you’re handed an
ice-cold gin and tonic — although for obvious
reasons, it’s not had an easy ride of late. Scotch
has been part of the team at the excellent Tanda
Tula, one of 12 lodges in the reserve, since the
mid-1990s. For he and the 55 other staff at the
lodge, most of whom, like Scotch, grew up in
towns and villages just outside the reserve,
recent times have proved uniquely testing.
Every facet of global travel suffered at the
hands of Covid-19, but not all of them were
claw-swiped quite so sharply as the African
safari sector. Money from wildlife tourism
not only employs workers who often support
six to 10 dependents, but provides vital funds
for conservation programmes, community
schemes and anti-poaching projects. A heavy
reduction in visitor income therefore means
bad news for the people who live close by, and
deep uncertainty for the reserves themselves:
rhinos, rangers and all.Scotch Ndlovu has been working
in the same open-plan office for
27 years. It has the sky for a roof
and covers more than 210 sq miles,
but he knows its ways and moods.
Previous pages from left: A safari jeep
with a ‘spotter’ sat atop a bonnet-
mounted seat; a cheetah crouches
beside a watering hole — both at
Timbavati Private Nature ReserveClockwise from top: The sun sets at the
end of an afternoon safari drive, near
Tanda Tula Safari Camp; white-backed
vultures perch on an elephant carcass,
near Pafuri Tented Camp, in Makuleke
Contractual Park; a hyena spotted in
Timbavati Private Nature Reserve