A Big Cat diary

Over the years we've nailed our share of Big Cat sightings to the family totem. We've seen them in action too; a fast-tracked byte to the protein bar. Even so, 2017 was an exceptional year for spectacular sightings / start-to-finish kills. In no particular order of grab-'n-go dining: - a leopard at Phinda [See it here]; 2 cheetah & a wildebeest calf near Babalala [Kruger](read here); a leopard [see below] at Engelhard Dam [Kruger] [& read more here] & finally a lioness on the Nshanguleni (a story for another time).

Before we get to the cats I want to talk about the phenomenon sweeping the Kruger, like anthrax in August. In Kruger's southern region, technology is contributing to a charade & we're poorer for it. Big Cats, on buffet, offer diminishing returns for the end-user & I'm uncomfortable with the attitude. To be fair, I think 'Latest Sightings - See more wildlife' [the 'app.'] started-off life well intentioned. Users planned their routes accordingly; maintained a healthy lifestyle ie: no rush-hour viewing; and understood the ethos of the experience. Not surprisingly, with the passage of time & public-acclaim, the 'app.' is today's nexus of bad behaviour. Contemporary watchers are more sophisticated; more demanding - & 'time-stress' = the allocation of fewer emotional resources per sighting. Commercial safari-operators, pressed to perform, are increasingly reliant on the 'app.' - painting the Big5 by numbers for repeat business & tips. The integrity of the experience is no-less ridiculous than the speeds travelled between sightings. Add the self-drive accumulators to the mix & the recipe boils over.

'50-lion, 20-leopard, 15-wild dog & a partridge in a pear tree', even in Southern Kruger, over 3 or 4 days = fake wilderness. Fraud by any other name is still a fib. 

Alisha & I are participants on a Sanparks-sponsored initive tackling congestion at Kruger. Two of the issues we're addressing are cross-border / in-transit users & excessive speeding practiced by tour operators in OSVs (open safari vehicle) & technology-enabled members of the public. The transgressions of the former are mostly a Northern Kruger complication - the latter [given the paucity of cellphone-reception elsewhere], a southern problem. Some of the mooted solutions are drastic including the expulsion of the independently-owned commercial operators & blacklisting the 'app.'; [unnecessary i.m.o if only common-sense would prevail].

Do we use the 'app.' ourselves? No. Will we use it? No. [other than for this blog, of course - research & all that] Do we feel like we're missing out? Yes; sometimes we do, in truth. 

Here are a few examples that beggar belief; highlighting the 'sickness in the south'. These are firsthand -

1. A family [overnight guests at Pretoriuskop (far south west of the KNP)] exited the park (mid-morning) [@Numbi gate - near Pretoriuskop] & drove around the southern tip of Kruger [2 hours at the limit, at least, if not longer in the holiday traffic]. These re-entered at Crocodile Bridge, at noon & gathered at the perimeter fence immediately in front of our chalet. A cheetah on a kill had been reported from that spot two hours earlier. The fact that we hadn't seen the cheetah or even the clean-up crew, after-the-fact, registered not at all on the feckless muppets. They left soon after [out the Park] to another sighting [lions, I think] nearer home.
2. We were at a leopard sighting between Pretoriuskop & Skukuza. This female leopard had gained some press-sympathy in the past I think. She'd survived the snare, however & was a rather pretty cat. At 17h30 she stood up, stretched & showed some interest. At 18h00 we left the sighting to return to the lodge but not before some of the most bizarre questions from a variety of numpties; the most Darwinian enquiries I've ever had to field in a lifetime of fielding the bizarre. Here's one I remember - a convoy of six vehicles arrived on site circa 17h45; 'app.' in hand [in the chase car that is]. 'Where's the leopard? Please; where is the leopard?' [him]. 'Standing at your door...' [me] (The honest truth). The 'app.' can't pinpoint the animal for you, can it son? How they got back to Lower Sabie by 18H30, some 60km further east, remains a mystery to me [not a chance in hell]. 
3. This one was a false report & an interesting play on the human disposition. We were enjoying a piece of Africa near Biyamiti weir, latish afternoon. 10 minutes later a young couple arrived on site - & did a fiddle [on the phone!]. 20 minutes later 15+ vehicles descended on us like buzzers on a steamer. They were there to view the 'leopard on a kill' - a **5/5 factoid the 'app.' was claiming. There was no leopard, of course. Watching the two fraudsters cock a snook was enlightening... the crackpots' dust at lift-off, doing their best, of course - less so. 

'went into bush' - **5/5, sure...

** In addition to locale, the 'app.' also reports the quality ['visibility' or 'vis' if you're cool] of the sighting. 1 = 'don't bother unless you're troubled' & 5 = 'you-will-post-on-social-media-like-a-boss!' Anywhere in between are derivatives of toss or boss. 

There are others - the 30 odd OSVs at a **2/5 sighting in the middle of nowhere & the 100+ vehicle-chaos at a **5/5 white lion sighting [Satara region]; two of many but not important here.  

Human frailties know no frontier. I do, however, want to bang on a bit about this particular white lion [above]; usually resident near N'wanetsi; adjacent the Singita Concession of Egyptian Vulture fame [Read it here].


So-called 'mega prides', in and around Singita & elsewhere in Kruger, are well-documented. In truth these large prides often splinter as the competition for food outstrips the efficacy of vires in numerus [strength in numbers]. Born to one of these 'mega prides' [the Shishangaan pride], in mid-2014, this white lion [a male], of ** 5/5 fame [above], is a modern marvel & a living legend. In late 2014 another white lion was held-aloft at its coming-out party; a girl; pretty in blue & not pink; leucistic [a blue-eyed mutation] rather than albino [the congenital absence of pigment]. White lions, for interest, are not a species of their own but the product of a recessive gene carried by both parents. 

In Sepedi & Tsonga tradition, white lions are considered divine; an inclination immortalised in Linda Tucker's book entitled 'Children of the sun god'. White lions have featured in local lore for centuries & have been an on-off reliance further west, in the Timbavati Private Game Reserve, for decades. For those of you who don't know, 'Timbavati' roughly translated means '... the place where lions came down from the stars.' Timbavati also lies on the Nilotic Meridian - a line of longitude said to link Great Zimbabwe & Egypt's Giza Plateau. If shaman mythology is to be believed - white lions are only born in times of ecological crisis; a coinkydink, ... maybe. Whatever your interpretation, it makes for a compelling campfire. The contentious translocation of 4 captive-bred white lions, from the Western Cape, to re-establish a viable population near their endemic home in the Timbavati, is well-documented. Notwithstanding, that & the Timbavati-few aside, 'non-engineered' white lions, this far east & born to free-roaming [wild], tawny-coloured parents, is testament to the resilience of the recessive gene in the face of their forced removal by collectors & hunters of decades past. Outside of the canned-hunting community [read more here] & the local cretins playing lock-n-load in the captive-breeding markets, the rest of us have very little opportunity of seeing a wild-born white lion. Those of us who have, count ourselves blessed.

...white lions are considered divine

... a brief note & a special mention... Small Cats [Felinae] aren't always afforded the same kudos as the Big Cats [Pantherinae & cheetah]. Perhaps they're more elusive than the other felids & not as popular as a result. Fair enough. See one though & you're on to something special. Get even luckier & find a pair at play & it carries a blue moon rating [read more here]. In fact, ask an African to paint you a picture of Africa & she'll start with the smalls - the 'fillers'; the gum that holds this place together on a single canvas. If the Big Cats are the salt of the earth then the other felids are surely ... a breath of fresh air.

Back home, nearest the fresh air, out front, is our solarium - a green room with a sunny disposition. It's a concession to the concrete we wear everywhere else. Key to this sunny disposition is glass - lots of it - wrap-around, floor to ceiling glass. Orchids & an indigenous bonsai collection complete the illusion of eden. Birds find this retreat enticing too but aren't always familiar with the internal locks. Many fly into the panes; a pain really. The survivors have a story to tell, of course, but only when the stars subside. We're having one-way glass installed to even the odds. On the sunnier side of the glass [before we evened the odds], domestic cats [uninvited guests btw.] understood the surprise & kept watch for spattlecocked lunch; the point of departure from which we subsequently enriched our local smartglass merchant. 

You cannot reconcile owning a cat, sans a bird-scarer, & pretend to love birds. That's like accommodating IT, under your baby's bed, because you like clowns & surprises. Here's a stat for you - cats are said to kill as many as 3 billion birds in the US, every year. Yes madam; count them please & yes I did say 3 billion. That's 3000 million & / or 2500 million more than are hunted by the tweadsters on the drive & the 'traditionalists' on the migration routes, combined. In fact - glass, communication towers & sundry bits of concrete kill more birds than all them poxy Elmer Fudds. Even so, we still cry foul when the fowl is baked in a pie. Best look to your glass house & keep puss inside... Better still, cut them off at the shorts & get them sterilised - end the madness! 

The point is this - ALL cats are opportunists & where opportunity knocks - someone gets eaten. 

We found ourselves 'in reverse' facing forwards, but with nowhere to travel with any freedom; in a cul-de-sac, somewhere near Kruger's Engelhard dam. In front of us, outside, a small herd of elephant browsing towards us, en route the water, behind us. 'In reverse' [then & always] was a concession to Alisha, more than a nod to direction or intention. Trees overlapped the verge thus preventing an unauthorised squirt out the side. Incidentally, elephants = 'REVERSE!['damn' you...]' in Alisha's world. At my age I forget these things sometimes. The bruises serve as a reminder.    'OMG! - Elephants - REVERSE! ['damn' you]'; usually in that order - & if I do forget, the swelling of both blackened eyes tends to hinder good views, anyway; even with a scope. I like elephants, me. Hope to see one, one day: within - a - mile. 

Behind us, the cul-de-sac AND another herd of elephant browsed their way towards us - i.e after a frolic & a drink. We were, therefore, troubled out-back & in-front by a common enemy, one wet - one dry, both intending to toe us into a kinda jam. A bit-of-a-pickle then & I'm not into sour. At the first trumpet, somewhere out-back, I broke ranks, stifled a neigh & rammed the car into PARK; chanting 'take them - leave me'. I'm not proud but instinct is evolutionary. We're all on the clock. Women & children first... 

Dust scattered in clouds of 'help me, God!' Squeals of rage out-back / out-front / & in the seat alongside wakened the dead. My eyes were swelling at the time or I might have seen the leopard first. Even so, he blazed across our front, grabbed an impala & vanished into the murk; never-to-be-seen-again. The elephants tumbled after - him & not us, the subject of their rage. I like elephants, me. Gentle souls. As it was, the leopard summed the scene - used the rattling of Alisha's teeth to best advantage AND before 'dey tawd dey taw a puddy tat', placed a grab & go and left; without paying - an IOU the elephants will want to cash, one day - or maybe they won't. He's that clever. 

Faster than the news of a ** 5/5 in southern Kruger, cheetah are at least at 3 in my African Big Cats - Top 3. What they lack in charm, charisma & courage, they atone for with blistering speed; usually in the opposite direction. Even so, their tenacity in the face of adversity is truly worthy of their place on the flats. These imperilled felids, much maligned on the African plains, are slowly speeding into history & that, above all else, is shameful. Taxed at 95%, before the age of 2 - the surviving nuggets are gossamer gold; on a delicate thread to an uncertain future. I hope they stick around - a scaredy-cat, maybe; but brave as it gets on an outgoing evolutionary tide. 


... besides, Alisha luvs em; and a happy wife = wild for life & the wild is where the Big Cats roam; no lies. 





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Kruger 300 - Day 15 Punda Maria for OWP

I've tried, failed. She obviously can...

Spending 5 hours unmoved, implacable & in the midday sunshine (+40°C) is stock-standard routine. Lunacy too, I would guess, if the stares from the normals are the fulcrum of sanity. Then again, lunacy is a bolt of enlightenment & it strikes, swiftly, if you embrace the sudden release of control. 'Slightly mad', from my side of the banana egg, is life lived at its plumpest...; them lot, over there, air-drawing against the scrambled hex, are ... awesome! What point raving sane if mad as a hatter makes more sense? 

An early climb up the back-end of Punda Maria camp

In any event, I was seated on a Sanparks-issued wooden-slat chair, elevated & in a position of sweeping authority, close enough not to be too far away. Not too far away, that is, from the cynosure of my attentions - a mini-birdbath; a water-feature tucked-under / close-to a terraced drop-off at Kruger's Punda Maria camp. Alisha & co. were further back, multi-tasking as grown-ups do - in the shade, I think. That would make sense. At the time I daren't look away - for at that instant he & she & them might have sipped & gone - a fate worse than no ice @ tea-time. I wasn't taking chances. 

... close-enough not to be too far away

I's a crafty fox, I am. Foregoing the left-hand side of the terraced wall, I took a seat on the less traveled - less obvious RHS [of the wall]. On the left side - civilisation. On the left side - stone paving; engineering & the fruits of educated labour. Terra firma. On my side of the wall, less-firmer; more terror. Leaf litter mostly - some air too. Diagonally across from me & lower down - the birdbath. Downslope - Tarzan's digs. Shrouded in a cloak of invisibility, in the bright sunlight; a skill not lost on everybody else btw., I crouched [seated] behind a three-legged camera, side-on to Tarzan's front door ie: at right angles to the downslope. 

I sat, the undercover-boss - patiently at vigil for Orange-winged Pytilia (OWP); a denizen seen drinking recently, in a small flock, at the birdbath. We'd seen them before - close-by, but a bird's not seen [officially] until you 'haven't seen them' but on camera. 

In dignified repose...

At Alisha's 'there-they-are-my-master-who-always-puts-me-in-the-right-place @ the-right-time...' [she's younger than I am; honest & has better eyes] - I recomposed myself [bolted] upright at this truth - thereby uncloaking & simultaneously breaking the air-seal that held the two legs on the RHS of the wooden-slatted chair to the lie I thought was solid. Both legs plunged into the leaf-litter; down to the hilt. The left-hand-side did not [bless 'em]. In an instant physics catapulted mea corpus out of the sanctity of comfort - arse-over-tit - 20 yards downslope. There I came to a thundering rest having dined [extensively] on leaf litter, some Bric-à-brac &, potentially, one or two invertebrates. I checked my two front teeth. All cool. Everything else... fair to middling. Apart from my own good self & the RHS of the chair, nothing else had moved - the camera's position remained unchanged - the birds, now some way above me, sipped on [or so I will be told over the next millennia at the retelling of it]. 

... there I came to rest..

OWP - young & ready

Excluding my own strangled snort & a choke or two - time stood still. Having extricated myself from the vines & the thorny embrace that held me lovingly in the downward-facing dog - I turned, looked up & confronted a row of faces [ie: the entire camp] lining the parapet somewhere near the angels. For the shortest time - general sympathy. ... and then ignominy & for the longest time - tears, uproar, a paroxysm of screeching mirth - & a communal dance of crossed legs & replay pantomime; Alisha the loudest & most animated of them all. It was a shameful display; a disgrace! Laughing at the fallen is a shocking indictment of poor form!  

... excluding my own strangled snort, wheeze & a choke or two - time stood still ... held, lovingly, in the downward-facing dog
  

Magnificent, regal - we salute you.

Even so, I returned to my seat - with all the skulking dignity I could muster - a return to magnificence in a ripped T & a pottyful of sh1T in my hair; via the long-way round. Accompanied by blue-faced sniggers, abruptly cut-off snorts of hilarity & uncontrolled flatulence - from them nutters, not me, I spent the next hour or two snapping off a roll. 

Has the world gone mad? Orange-winged Pytilia don't just drop in & fall at your feet!  





PS: we're grateful to Mrs. Amanda Walden for bringing Kruger's celebrity OWP to the birding flock's attention. Nicely done, madam!

Kruger 300 Challenge - an introduction

Once every 5 years, or thereabouts, we set aside time & embark on, what we call, our Kruger Trek - ie: a north2south transit of the Kruger National Park. Summer's best for us & this year our trip coincides with the December silly season.

It's not a rushed affair... 3 weeks or so. It's also a wee time away from the smoke & dust; the hum-drum traffic & the other clap-trap that makes up our daily grind. We'll miss it...

Three things will be different on this 'Trip'.

1. Our route is a bit-ofa fish hook. We start midway - go north - further north & drop like a corporate-scandal down to the bottom where we'll spend as little time as possible. Too many peeps...
2. We like to 'bird with a purpose' even if it's for our own purposes rather than for the advancement of the human sp. as a whole. Yessiree; we're an obsessive compulsive duo - a disorder where size matters. Some 5-yrs ago we completed our Big Year - the '800 Challenge'. [Read eg. here, here & here]. That was fun & it's nigh time we do it again, properly this time. The premise of the '800' was a simple one - see as many bird sp. in Southern Africa as we could muster - within a single calendar year. The Kruger 300 - more a mini-jamboree, to be honest - is the same thing only with smaller crackers. The locale is less dynamic - we're confined to the internal volumes of the Kruger National Park & within the time framed - ie: for the duration of the 'Trip' or more accurately, the 15/12/2017 - 6/01/2018 incl. 
3. Alisha will include a VLOG snippet & an update (daily... time & fancy dependent); whilst I, [with a face for writing], will update the blog with a few odds & ends each evening. 

At odds with the 303 sp. a small team compiled in 24 hours, in the Southern region of the Kruger - our 300 Challenge will stand sentinel / glorious even. [If you canst beat 'em - pull 'em down to your level, I always say. Their record includes forest habitat ... ours will not] 

To the trees!

Fairyland - Woodbush Forest Reserve [near]

Once a year, every year, I celebrate a birthday; another ring on what is becoming a trunk rather than a stem. It's a collection of hoops Methuselah hisself might envy, quietly of course. This year the family obliged with a surprise, self-drive, busman's holiday to the mistforest & bushveld biomes of South Africa's Limpopo province.

 Fairyland @ 50x

Alisha's passion, [she's a Reiki Master (btw.)], resides in the esoteric; an alternative form of common sense & a non-science far too complex for the uninitiated. Most of it is gobbledygook to me. Rather than tax myself unduly, I look the other way - lest the hex comes a-knocking on her broom. Once in a while, however, the cauldron of mystery concocts a brew not fit for civil society; a diabolical elixir...

Now; have a look at the Fairyland pic at 50x. Watdat?

Fairyland @ 200x 

[ ... & yes it floated around for a few minutes, no strings & no it isn't lens flare or dust in your eye. ]

How 'bout @ 200x 

Most of it is gobbledygook to me...

Anyhoo... What is it about Magoebaskloof that demands a repeat visit? Only the self-loathing enjoys the crick-in-the-neck aftershock of canopy-birding - an up-the-skirts exercise conducted, on foot, from down below. Rain is a constant companion. The local specials are adept at hide & seek almost to the point of distraction. Outside of the dawn-chorus the wind susurrates, detached from reality. Leaves lost in usefulness float down to their compatriots, brittle & brown. It's an affront; an assault on the senses: rank, damp and squishy underfoot & yet...

... & yet - it's a jewel; a treasure - a seasonally-neutral trove of marvels no less Fantasia than Disney itself.

Tallest planted trees on earth - Woodbush (near)

The deranged hike the reserve [Kudos rather than for profit methinks]. The rest of us, with our feet firmly on the ground, cap the suffering in the virtual domain. Woodbush [traversed top-to-bottom] is a muddied, winding descent to the bottom laced with moments of YES that is nothing short of tops. Some of the birds are cryptic. Others call incessantly from the verge - perhaps no further than a short, left cross away. Others flash overhead in self-absorbed hubris - cackling in the green as the bulbs fire-off in the shadows of their past.

... & yet - it's a jewel; a treasure

Forest Canary

Owls woo-hoo-woohoo; Flufftails just woo, woo-eee; & we? We love it.

Don't expect a large bag of goodies but come sharp. The rewards are toothsome.

Woodbush is home to a populous crew of Black-fronted Bushshrike & together with Rufous-breasted Sparrowhawk, both denizens of The Green, equate to a birding session locally unique. In the late evening or in the drizzle, Buff-spotted Flufftail are conspicuous - never absent. Barratt's Warbler confound rational thought with their ventriloquism. Cape Parrot - perhaps Woodbush's most illustrious resident - keeps society in the early sunrise & at sunset.

Barratt's Warbler [File]

Green Twinspot, African Emerald Cuckoo, Forest Canary, Knysna Turaco, Narina Trogon, Olive Bushshrike, Yellow-streaked Greenbul and Olive Woodpecker are common, cryptic and a concession to effort; if you try hard enough & page through the leaves. Once in a while, an individual holds pose & braves the lens but only once ... in a while.

Where exotic meets indigenous - Woodbush summit

I suppose the birding's easier in winter when the Yellow-streaked Greenbul & Square-tailed Drongo call to the others - a gathering; a party even. Ticking-off twenty species, under those conditions, is fairly 1..2..3. The difference in summer, however, is the cleansing rain and the magnetism of the migrants. There are few candidates more iridescent in a STD sun-off than the African Emerald Cuckoo.

Pin-pricks of wonder in the murk..

Not all of the Woodbush protagonists are clad in Robin Hood. The Grey Cuckooshrike, Blue-mantled Crested Flycatcher, White-starred Robin and the ubiquitous sunbirds are a rainbow cast of characters no less graphic than their green contemporaries. In & on the dank undergrowth Orange Ground Thrush, Olive Thrush and Lemon Dove add the earthier tones to the fairyland-palette.

...add the earthier tones to the fairyland-palette.

Finding its feet - the underside of a helix

Whilst the birding isn't always spectacular, although the birds themselves usually are; even the birds begin to pall nearer midday & let's be honest - looking up their trumpets isn't every citizen's dream. The scenery becomes less the supporting cast & more the feature. Simultaneously, the smaller denizens of the Mistbelt find their feet; the butterflies, in particular, are a lepidopterist's dream vacation.

It's also the best time of day to track the soar - raptors of all shapes, sizes & intent keep an aerial vigil for the strays; & stray they must if the fat on the buzzard is any judge of the bounty.

... is that a hex in your eye? [Charaxes sp.]

Tooth & claw feature widely. Winter's Forest Buzzard is subbed by summertime's Common (Steppe) Buzzard. A plethora of sparrowhawk sp. & the African Goshawk handle the smallish birds. The Crowned Eagle, Bat Hawk & African Wood Owl host the Samango, various Chiroptera sp. and insects respectively. The circle of life is a perfect hexagon of reliance.

... but it's the trees; magnificent trees: the marrow of life; perfect hosts - & a remnant salute to what was: ie. before the axe & saw changed their world.

and so - join us: let's to the trees!

The circle of life...

... but it's the trees - magnificent trees: the marrow of life

For those of you not following our end-of-year Kruger 300 Challenge, [introduced in the next post] we wish you safe holidays, a Merry Christmas and a prosperous New Year.

Kruger - ventilated!

'I've often wondered why people prefer to stay outside the Kruger National Park rather than in it...'

Pestana Kruger Lodge - [Malelane]

I've often wondered why people prefer to stay outside the Kruger National Park rather than in the reserve at one of the many overnight camps. These visitors secure accommodation outside the Park - and enter the reserve each day, either under their own steam or on a scheduled OSV (Open Safari Vehicle) tour; the tour operated by a professional / specialist safari company.

On the 24^th of September, South Africans mark Heritage Day - a day set aside to celebrate the cultural wealth of the country. Dressed in traditional garb, the day is usually brightly-coloured and always festive. To spoil the fun some commercialist proposed that South Africa celebrate its cultural appetites in a way synonymous with the peoples of this country ie: around an open fire @ a braai (barbecue) &, as a consequence, "National Braai-Day" was whelped on the Promotions pages all across South Africa's retail space.

"National Braai-Day" was whelped on the Promotions pages all across South Africa..

The 24^th fell on a Sunday this year - an unfair roll of the dice really but that's the Gregorian for you. Fortunately ours is not a hard-working society & the Monday was set aside in its stead earning the diehards double-time at the tills. For the rest of us this concession to productivity equated to a long-weekend - the perfect excuse for an excursion elsewhere & up here, in the innards of the country, that means to the bushveld ie: the Kruger National Park. The scramble for access & accommodation is an eastward migration of urban aggression - which, some would argue, speaks to our true culture but there you are. It's a fact; the scramble that is. Notwithstanding, we tagged along for the jostle - securing the Saturday night's accommodation in the park [an online fluke] but in the sure knowledge that Sunday night's accommodation lay elsewhere; on the road outside - looking in. Kruger was filled to capacity & then some.

We avoid the southern region of Kruger like vegans at a pig-on-the-spit. I'm not immune to cretins unfortunately or the circus that is the OSV industry - a dust-cloud at odds with common sense and the ethos that is Kruger ie: peace & quiet. As for the cretins, most seem inexplicably drawn to the Park's southern camps - who knows why? Perhaps it's first seen - first bought ie: a bottom-up stare-down at the Park's map - a habit difficult to ignore away from the street-side cafés back home. To be fair the southern region is the most convenient point of access. At a guess it's also why most foreign visitors get posted to Skukuza by tour operators driven by a profit-engineered stratagem rather than on value-add. It's a shame. Skukuza, for those who don't know, is the Kruger's largest camp by volume & din and the Park's administrative hub. It's also located in the southern region. Avoid at all costs but if it's the only available option - go anyway! A day in Kruger is a day well-lived.

Avoid at all costs but if it's the only available option - go anyway! A day in Kruger is a day well-lived.

Malelane Gate - KNP (Saturday 11am)

With Saturday night's Skukuza reservation in hand, we arrived at Malelane Gate at approximately 9am (late by our youthful standards but we're older.. wiser now). When I say 'we arrived at Malelane Gate' I mean 'we could see Malelane Gate from the back of the queue - some 300 meters away'. From when 'we arrived' to when 'we entered' 2 hours had been consigned to our life's journal under 'waited in the queue - incompetence rife'! Gate personnel were seemingly more interested in the confiscation of alcohol, a commodity forbidden day-visitors, than in manning the formalities' desk. Two counters serving 100s, on behalf of 100s more, is a feat I would drink to most days but even the strongest sauce would not have dulled the aggravation of the most patient sot there.

When I say we drove to Skukuza in a convoy of strangers; a convoy no less impressive than rush-hour traffic back home - that is what I mean. Fortunately lions were scarce or we'd still be 'at-the-back-of-the-queue' en route to yesterday - a fact we proved next afternoon, further west, at a mating lions sighting somewhere between Lower Sabie & Crocodile Bridge; two more overnight camps located in the deep South, east of Skukuza. We heard from the broken-telephone info-booth, at the-back-of-the-queue, that 3 (?) lions were entertaining the front-seats with excerpts out of the Kama Sutra. We were obliged to leave some two hours later without laying eyes on the naked truth; a fortunate result given that our son of 3 was all ears on the back-seat. The same front-seats hadn't moved - or taken a breather even as temperatures spiked in spits & spats. Deviant cretins then.

A lion - no argument there

Never call a South African unobservant - test the hypothesis at Malelane Gate on the first day of a long-weekend. We know exactly when you arrived & where you should be in the queue - JUST TRY AND GET AHEAD *BOET [*'my brother' in JHB & in the more contemporary parts of Cape Town] ... "I'm just going to the bathroom" se gat ie: be damned!

Fortunately Alisha's smarter than I am & we spent early Sunday morning birding Skukuza camp. If you ever get the chance forget the leopard-tally for a second and walk the camps. It's Kruger at its best. Birdlife is prolific - the photographic opportunities less hurried - the birds themselves more used to one-eyed-dicks squinting through a lens; long or otherwise.

'If you ever get the chance forget the leopard-tally for a second..'

Close...

Later that morning, whilst watching a buffet of the camp's local specials drink at an unrepentant leak - 'Africa's most precious resource' - we heard some Vervets arguing a point - in no particular order really. If the leopard walking nearby was anything to judge these things by, then at a guess, the monkeys were a little too distracted to notice us as we veered-in on the cat. We didn't want to be rude but the fracas in the trees seemed less intriguing than a tom-in-camp even if the cat was on the other side of the electric-fence. Stellar stuff - memories even. Elephants & a herd of buffalo were also in close attendance. A veritable smorgasbord of the big uglies - all within touching distance & whilst we were on foot.

Hippo disagreement - discussed

I can't argue the merits of the South's potential for unusual / special sightings. Fair enough. We saw the Big 5 more than once but at a cost to all things simple & smart... 'Nuff said. 

Before we ended up at Pestana Kruger Lodge on the Sunday night, a resort located on the banks of the Crocodile river & adjacent Malelane Gate, we exited the Park further east at Crocodile Bridge en route Marloth Park. We'd seen the brochures & succumbed to the media-hype. All the lodges in Marloth were at capacity save a single 'lodge' hitherto rated 9/10 by past attendees. This fine, clinker-brick emporium had a single room for us - at least as far as booking.com was concerned. We filled in our particulars online at circa 120kph en route only to be told, on arrival, well after sundown I might add, that they 'couldn't honour the booking'. Why? 'We're tired - room's dirty'. The empty bottles of alcohol, lolling on the lawn, seemed proof enough. We left - vowing to never set-foot-in-Marloth again.         Don't say I didn't warn ya.            An hour later we arrived at Pestana 60 km or so further west on the Kruger boundary hat-in-hand. I think the gate security will forgive the 'we-have-a-reservation' fib. Truth is we didn't - they probably guessed - we were let in anyway, dishevelled & a little tired to say the least.

Pestana Kruger Lodge - (Malelane)

If I said the reception desk was a peel of angelic music would that be too much? We were offered the very last room on the books; I suspect kept 'in reserve' for vagrants like us whenever the opportunity to score a few points presents & score they did. It has changed my outlook on 'southern' Kruger fairly dramatically. I know it isn't strictly accurate comparing the Kruger's dated accommodation with the facilities of a four-star lodge but I think the comparison is valid in this case.

Forgotten perhaps - Skukuza nevertheless

The 3-bed rondavel at Skukuza set us back approximately R1500pn (per night); the Pestana room circa R1900pn. Skukuza's accommodation is grimy (a consequence of inattentive housekeeping more than anything else); the linen threadbare and the decor mostly beige or spotted in derivatives thereof. The room at Pestana was contemporary, tasteful and bright. Some dust on the balcony & on the back of the bathroom door spoilt the Pestana card but I think the point is fair.

Pestana's rates are full-board [Dinner & breakfast] - Skukuza is self-catered. Leopard Creek, adjacent Pestana on the same Crocodile river but on the other side of the bridge, observes the 'quiet-after-9' ethos I generally encourage. The bushveld demands a quiet neighbour. 

Protea Hotel by Marriott Kruger Gate 

Out front - off the Pestana deck, the night sounds & the ambience were the equal of Skukuza's Sabie river by anybody's measure; certainly in our books & we know Kruger. So I ask you this. Where would you stay? We're not talking about financial semantics btw. - everything is relative. The same applies to Protea Kruger Gate on the eastern boundary nearest the Kruger Gate & closer still to Skukuza. The same contemporary decor, rates / services apply there too.

The New Kruger Safari Lodge

Again, in fairness, I think Sanparks [Kruger's de facto administrators] acknowledge the shortfall & are attempting [at last] to meet the demands of the more discerning visitor &, more importantly, the expectations of our international guests. Eateries / restaurants have been outsourced - so too the retail space mostly. These economies of scale filter down to the user; a nice change from yesteryear when that wasn't always the case. At Skukuza the 'New Skukuza Safari Lodge' is under construction and due for completion this time next year. At face value the construction is impressive. I don't care much for the argument against a hotel in the park. Congestion is what it is. A tasteful day-spa kneads-away the aches & pains of what I would assume is an assortment of cricked necks & wobbly bums. Safari isn't always a song & dance. Elsewhere in the camp the riverside accommodation has been renovated - & on first-hand experience a nice surprise but that too is becoming a victim of inept housekeeping.

The modern traveler is experience-driven. Private lodges acknowledge the fact and are modifying their focus on the overall experience accordingly. It's important, therefore, to make the distinction between a 'boutique hotel in the bush' and a 'bush experience'.

However, when we rate Kruger the safari / game-viewing experience is more generic - sightings are a factor of course but premised on luck & the experience of the tour operator / visitor. The same criteria apply for privately-owned, non-safari lodges catering to the same Kruger visitor but located outside the park. The safari experience, in the park, is equally generic. The difference, however, is in the quality of the stay & on that basis these lodges are more bang-for-back; more comfortable & generally streets ahead.

Where the attraction is the Kruger and well-positioned, privately-managed resorts exploit the opportunity - it's only fair to call it as it is. Then again, in case we forget, the Kruger is the attraction. The potential is limitless. 


Just leave the north alone - it's perfect as it is.