Kruger 300 - Days 13 & 14 [Kruger National Park]: Pafuri - a review

Big Cats - off the menu

Perched high up on our must-go-back itinerary, Pafuri is the wunderkind of Kruger's special spots. Aficionados go gaga - we go go-go & go we usually do; this time too. Don't go there if you're after lions & tigers. Lions are scarce; tigers... more so. Nevertheless, its international draw is legendary. Birds, at their southern-range extremes, hang in bunches from the Giving Tree; gift-wrapped, in the Santa season, for all-comers with a pair of bins, a bird book & some chutzpah. Getting there isn't a piece of cake - the access road's (a) a sleep-inducing drug; (b) temperature-bothered all-year-round & (c) the freeway for cross-border punters on a mission to smuggle with a view.

... & a highway for the cross-border punters on a mission to smuggle with a view

Masasana - Middlevlei

Whilst we're there - the latest trend in Kruger's poaching crisis has it's roots ... here. Renewed cross-border raids for ivory or white gold - ignorance jewellery in the West & a passbook trinket to a status rung in the East - is on the rise. The commodity, when reduced from sentient being to its teeth, is at the epicentre of humankind's lust for status - a doppelgänger crutch when true class is an education away. Why here? Pafuri is, as it's always been, the Crook's Corner of Southern Africa: a step-over for miscreants @ the Limpopo river: the natural y-junction for three international borders. Legal jurisdiction lies somewhere between the left foot; the right foot & whichever tiny appendage hangs in between. The crooks know it & the elephants are cornered. We saw one auld chewer, further south & discussed his teeth at a show & tell session with the section ranger - 50+ years if he's a day & at least 80 pounds a side [the elephant that is, not the ranger (we're not that close)]. The legend of Kruger's Magnificent 7 whispers-still; The Magnificents encoded in the emergents' genes for the awe of all good people extant & still to come ... & I hope they always will be.

Breakfast - shaken & served

In the hot box / picnic basket: - two thermos flasks of hot water, crockery & cutlery, a packet of back bacon, a handful of eggs, tinned whole tomatoes, mushrooms; yoghurt, muesli, fruit & some juice [various]. Sandwiches prepared the night before warmed the bench - held in lunch reserve. In the tiffin - Earl Grey, Jacob's Kronung, some local herbal teas, dried venison sticks, bits of candied mango & an assortment of biscuits. We're potentially not short of full.

Proceedings kicked-off @ the bridge over the river Levuvhu, scratching for whatever whistled - spinetails mostly; wattle-eye too. Mottled Spinetail obliged; as did the Black-throated Wattle-eye. We were off to a rollicking start & a list bulging at the scale. It's 6am. The dawn chorus is an hour & a half past the first note. The garrulous, however, sing on - revealing themselves atop the branches, in the skies & at the river's edge. We mark them down. By 6:30am 100 sp. answer roll-call; some 20 or so are new additions for the 300 list. On the northern side of the bridge - a change of management at Pafuri Camp - an iconic retreat for Pel's Fishing Owl & those who luv 'em. We don't go in - non-paying guests rudely shown the servant's entrance. Pel's remains a long-time friend from another time; as does the Racket-tailed Roller & the Three-banded Courser; our Pafuri Big 3 & pie at Pafuri Camp - sticky, however, for those of us outside, looking in. None make it onto our 300; their loss - they would have featured here. We'd hoped but hope is what it is - there until it's charged.

... at the Baobab Tree

At the picnic site, further east, and over a short biscuit & some instant coffee, a Black Sparrowhawk helloes an African Cuckoo-Hawk. The cuckoo-hawk doesn't want a word. Both are new. It's 9am & the thermos is cooler than the ambient air. We sucked it in - life speaks to quiet ears & a closed mouth.

Busloads of Christmas party arrive for a bit of a scream. We're not crackers & leave - heading further east & deeper into the riverine forest. Trumpeter Hornbill wail for mother's milk; we sympathise but don't get involved. Lemon-breasted Canary hold the palm-fronds close to their chests. Those were nice as were the many shrikes, bee-eaters, flycatchers, pytilia & wood-loving doves. Four or five targets eluded us - as they sometimes do - one hasn't missed a dip since 'dip' became more than a lowered rusk some years ago: - Narina Trogon... A lifetime fail. Others followed that misery into the record books; some for the first time [testament to the dry conditions]. That joy included Dickinson's Kestrel, Scaly-throated Honeyguide, Green Twinspot & until much later - Bohm's Spinetail - a spineless / tailless apparition ghosting the Pafuri skies, nearer the Baobab Tree. 7 hours of squinting the open air eventually revealed a singleton; one's a party in the book & we went crackers next to the Baobab Tree.

Overexposed & cut short but you get the picture

In the interim the sun had crossed over noon - & we chased after more, west of the Bridge. At the end of this short drive a peeper's keyhole into Lanner Gorge. If you get the chance: go there. We have & although we're a biscuit or two slower than we once boasted, the walk's not trouble in good boots & a floppy [hat]. Wear clothes too if you like - nobody's there; nobody cares / the baboons on the crags are shy but never jealous. It's Adam & Eve's unnoticed get-u-away. That too was nice but we were after the cliff-hangers: Rock Martin, Rock Kestrel & Lanner Falcon. The falcon scored a hit as did the martin - the kestrel did not. Whilst we were there an unexpected never-seen-that-before. A Yellow-billed Kite, a scribed scavenger & a nit-picker per the field guide, swooped on a party of Broad-billed Roller & scooped a squalling late lunch. The other rollers dived into the fray for a belt of their own / a grief-stricken plot of revenge. The kite sailed-off into the cast & back into range again; I assume for kicks & giggles - a stream of rolling squawkers in tow. Sticks & stones and all that - words don't hurt, much and the kite held onto the catch.

In a wetter season we'd have seen more - that's true but the board is as it is. We'd played harder than fair; added 20-odd more to our 300 list & smashed our way into the 320s; our 14-day numbers record. That's Pafuri - plain, spectacular, wet & dry - thirstland canyon or riverine forest. It's a canvas of wonder - & a wondrous influence on a burgeoning waistline: the tiffin [sans three biscuits] & the hot box [sans the hot water] unnoticed, unopened; the non-intoxicating aperitif to the fare, on offer, at the table outside.

...the supporting cast to the fare, on offer, at the table outside.