Kruger 300 - Day 9 [Thunderstorm]

The genet & I are keeping the 3am-clock company. He’s at the insects crowding the dance-floor, under the night-light, nearest that end of the veranda. I’m this end drying off from the drip-drip in the bedroom writing this. Further out & on the other side of the fence, Pioneer Dam draws in the night crew; slayers of anything that comes up for air. Night-herons criss-cross from one shoreline to another – chasing greener grass. On the stove, some water bubbles – headed the way of the thermos for warmth later. The wind blows fair – clear-headed. Inside, it’s hot, stifling – air-conditioned. We’re at MOPANI… It’s Day 9.

Green-backed Heron

Supposedly a holiday it’s been a push, as the Kruger can be, in the middle of summer – early-morning / late-nights & the sapping heat eventually taking their toll. We needed a recharge. The family asked for & received the day-off. I said, ‘early Christmas?’ but, between us, I was thrilled. It’s been +40°C in the shade, most days. The concession was we’d visit Stapelkop Dam; a hitherto, unknown body of water, deep into pioneer country so’ west of Mopani Camp. The only other driving would be in transit from the south to this night’s venue. We arrived here at 10am – just as the mercury began to get hot & bothered. Sebastian & I went swimming; Alisha dunked her feet - the theory being 'when my feet are cool, so am I'. Personally I find when 'all of me is cool, so am I' but each to their own dip I suppose. Sebastian agrees with me, I think - but he's Daddy's boy until he's Mommy's boy - until he isn't.  

Tsessebe - only in 'the north'

I must admit Mopani was a camp I’d never spent the night at – stopped-at in transit, yes, but not much longer than for a refuel or a visit to the ice-cream box. Game-viewing in the area is an oxymoron – i.e.: mostly for morons [at least that’s what I thought; the egg’s on me]. In fact, Mopani has always bothered me as the contemporary intrusion on the ancient route between Letaba & Shingwedzi Camps; and the death-knell of the ‘Mooiplaas stop’ – a traditional breakfast nook en route. Far better to have built Mopani nearer Tshokwane, midway between Satara & Skukuza, on the interchange so’ east & west – call in Acacia, if you like, but then I’d hate it for being the death-knell of Tshokwane – the traditional [current] breakfast stop-over between Skukuza & Satara. There’s no winning for them when my mind’s made up…

Spend a night here though & it gets under your skin. We’ve vowed to come back [yes, I know... don't say a word]. The accommodation is a VAST step-up from anywhere else; the amenities tip-top. We made use of the launderette & although we didn’t know it then – the industrial-grade tumble driers saved our skins.

Martial on, sir

…but 1^st, Stapelkop! Getting there is a drudge through stunted mopani & less-stunted mopani. It’s monotonous but for the Grey Penduline Tits. It’s also a cul-de-sac – the drudgery, homewards, takes on a seen-this exponent & if you know your maths, that’s worse! In betwixt ‘drudgery’ & ‘worse’ is the dam itself & it’s a unique body in the western hinterland. No other public access to the area is permissible. It’s Kruger’s best-kept-birding secret & I like secrets. They’re more fun to tell. Elephants & every other resident, hairy or smooth, sips from this well. It’s alive! … but for the birder it’s a mecca & a MUST-visit. We clocked 100 sp. in 45 mins.

After our swim & the laundry-visit we sat down for an early supper. I lit the fire-@-5… Out back the storm gathered; then gathered some more until the thunder-gods roared defiance, at 5-01, I think. We sat out, under the thatched eaves – some might say smugly but with one eye on the venison in the 1^st-throws of open-flame glory.

…and then the heavens opened & we wept. The meat sizzled, frizzled, congealed & sucked in the soak. It bucketed down; the roar drowning out our misgivings – truly an awesome display of light & noise.

…and then the wind began to blow - sideways; the sting of it hastening us indoors without so much as a sideways glance.

Sideways I say...

…and then the roof began to leak – washing us outside again. Cold & hungry we faced an uncertain future & begged relief. We had the option of moving – an option we chose to exercise – in torrential rain. The rivulets running down my back & through-my-shorts kept me straight-backed honest; on the move – an energy we should harness – clean energy; except, of course, for the residue down south – nearest your toes which take on a hue of mud that’s difficult to describe except that its thick, gets hard & clings to life – soap be damned.

It was a simple pick & move routine - slosh out of the old cottage – slosh out to the car –swim in the car – slosh out of the car – slosh into the new cottage – slosh out the new cottage – slosh back to the car – swim in the car - slosh back to the old cottage – slosh out to the car & repeat; for an hour. The rest of the troop watched from inside – proud I think; dry to the bone… 

On the 2nd-to-last pick & move I hitched [old cottage] & unhitched the trailer [new cottage] - on an unnoticed, forward-sloping slope. These things are difficult to fathom with a river flowing through both eyes. In fact the slope was forward-sideways... Safely unhitched I returned to swim in the car & noticed the trailer moving rapidly forward - sideways towards the neighbour's 4x4. What he thought, from the sanctity of his front stoep, when I was braced doing the backward shag against the trailer, near his vehicle's front door, must have confused him... Mad dogs - Englishmen & all that. 

Meanwhile, I’d recovered the slop off the braai – dabbed it dry & handed the job to the oven. That worked; the ‘hot-water’ shower did not. Rain or shower all the same I thought but nobody likes the luminescence of a desk-jockey on summer hols – it was also cold & I’m a proud indiv. - I kept my clothes on outside & showered inside; away from gagging eyes. 

Still; the genet & I have agreed. Mopani is okay with us. It’s under-rated; is the park’s ‘best’ camp BY FAR – just bring along an umbrella & a bird book – lions are scarce & storms have a way of getting under the skin. [& the thatch too]

Score to date – 289 species. Will 300 ring-the-bell, soon? We shall see!