The boys were much more confident about the second night on the White Rhino Trail which held far fewer terrors for them after a day of laughing over their fears of the night before. The noises and squeals from the bushes surrounding the camp dissipated with the morning sun. Temba summed the general feeling when he said in his log book: ‘The second night was not nearly as scary as the first. I still got a fright, though, when people moved about in their sleeping bags as I thought that it was something in the bushes. STOP MOVING!’
Matthew became more philosophical: ‘I saw millions of beautiful stars – and behind them, the nothingness of space. This made me think. Everything that happens to us in life seems so small and insignificant.’
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| Sunset in the bush |
Having said all this, our group still had a disturbed night. Rob, when it was his turn to do night watch, wasn’t sure what jumped further, the hare out of the bush or his heart out of his mouth. At least, he had the presence of mind not to disturb the rest of us. No doubt it was because he was too embarrassed to say that he had been spooked by a hare. Jamie did not have the same qualms on his watch. ‘There is a hyena! It is coming into the campsite,’ he shouted, playing his torch over a wide area. Everyone immediately woke and sat up – except me. I put my head inside my sleeping bag – confident that any self-respecting hyena would find a younger, tastier morsel. Vuyani went out to check and reported that the hyena was a bush. I announced (from within the sleeping bag) that the last time a bush moved any considerable distance was at Dunsinane, so clearly we had nothing to worry about in the Umfolosi. My humour was totally lost on everyone – even the Scottish Gappie, Rob who could probably trace his ancestry back to MacBeth.
Callum took over the dawn patrol and we had barely returned to sleep when he announced excitedly that there were lions just below the campsite in the river bed. Applying the same principles of youth and young meat, I put my head back inside the sleeping bag. This time even Vuyani refused to budge. ‘Those lions roaring are way in the mountains,’ he said. ‘They just sound closer than they are.’
Callum refused to accept this, insisting on the close presence of the lions. We ignored him.
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| The lone hyena |
Consequently, it was a very bedraggled and drowsy group which eventually emerged from their sleeping bags at dawn to sip tea on the ledge and watch the bushveld waking up. There was a black rhino in the reeds to our right and two white rhinos above the river bed to our left. To our delight, a herd of about 120 buffalo emerged from the tree line to graze on the banks. A lone hyena (not the bush) sipped away at a pool near us. He was about to slink away when Mandla gave a loud howl which resulted in the hyena sprinting towards us.
‘Now we are in trouble,’ I said. ‘Was that a mating call?’
‘No,’ he replied. ‘I was giving the male hyena challenge.’
The male hyena galloped back and forth in front of us looking for his rival. Fortunately he did not think of looking for it up on the ledge above.
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| Leopard on the move |
We sat in silence for a while, when suddenly Mandla pointed. ‘Look. A leopard.’
There padding along the river bed towards us, was a magnificent sleek and majestic beast looking for all the world if it were just on a morning stroll. It stopped for a morning drink at a waterhole dug by an elephant the night before. We watched it for about quarter of an hour before it slipped unobtrusively into the reeds.
I then proceeded to tell the company about Herman Charles Bosman’s tale of the leopard joining Oom Schalk Lourens in the shade of the Withaak tree. After presumably imbibing his favourite peach brandy, Oom Schalk had been out in the bushveld looking for cattle when he decided that it was just as easy to look for cattle while leaning against the trunk of the Withaak tree. He woke up to find a leopard next to him…
Mandla was impatient. ‘Time to go and hunt a leopard.’ Slipping on day packs, off we went in single file to the reeds. I was in my usual role of Tail End Charlie, frequently glancing back and fervently hoping that the leopard did not know the tactic of doubling back on his prey.
On the way, we passed the waterhole which we had dug the night before. All around it we saw the fresh and perfectly demarcated lion paw marks. Sorry for not believing you, Callum.
The leopard did not utilise the tactic of doubling back and we were unable to find it. We carried on and eventually saw a white rhino in a clearing. We approached it from down-wind and were not far away when the birds on its back spotted us and took off uttering warning cries. Alarmed, the rhino came lumbering in our direction. Ross said afterwards that it was a charge, but that was just adrenalin talking.
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| Rhino on the run |
Mandla picked up a stick which I thought was a somewhat pointless exercise in the light of the hulking Sherman tank clumping towards us. Unfazed, Callum was clicking away when the rhino obviously heard him and took off at right angles in fear and charged (now THAT was a charge, Ross!) into the bushes. Mandla was quite adamant the rhino would have done the same if had thrown his stick. Fortunately we did not have another occasion to prove that theory.
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| KCR under the 'shade of a Withaak Tree' |
We had had a wonderful morning walking over hill and dale among the animals, when Mandla declared it was lunch time. I am not sure if we were under a Withaak tree, but even though I was definitely not fortified by peach brandy, I decided that the morning exertions warranted a quiet nap.
I was woken some time later by someone hissing, ‘Lion. Lion.’
‘You mean Leopard,’ I said, without even opening an eye. I know when I am being had. ‘Get the story correct.’
They persisted – and were right. Down in the river bed at the far end of the valley was this dark spot. Not only was it a lion – but it was two lions. Mating lions. Without hesitation, Mandla had us packed and on our way to see the lions.
‘Are you sure this is wise?’ I said. ‘I am not that clued up on lions, but I would have thought that he will be a trifle ratty about being disturbed in flagrente.’ That was not common parlance in Zulu, but Mandla knew what I meant.
‘Oh, he will be tired,’ he said airily. ‘Lions stay at it for three days in a row.’
‘That may be so,’ I replied, ‘but what happens if this is Day One?’
He did not reply as he had already turned on his heel and was moving down the mountain.
An hour later, he brought us to a halt and whispered that we were about a hundred metres away. He then said that when the lions charged, we must not run. It was concerning that he did not use the conditional if. ‘Stand still otherwise they will then think that you are prey.’ Leaving that cheerful thought in our minds, he went off to check the lie of the land.
He came back running. ‘Move,’ he said. ‘There is a buffalo sleeping in the reeds. If the lions charge us, he will take fright and that will be dangerous for all of us as a lone buffalo is unpredictable.’
We ended up circling the area and leopard-crawling up the river towards the lions. There were in fact three lions with two cubs – and another voyeur male lion up on the bank was surveying the goings on below. He had the regal look of the lion on the match box.
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| Disturbed lions |
We were reasonably close to the group in the river bed when Callum’s camera clickings gave us away. The lioness was up and into the bushes like a flash with her cubs following. The abandoned lion went through a variety of emotions all of which showed in his face – bewilderment and frustration predominated. He glanced at us just before he dragged his feet towards the reeds and his expression said it all, ‘Gee, thanks, okes….’
Presumably it was Day Three.
We did the two hour hike back to camp well satisfied with our day. The Big Five and a host of equally fascinating animals and birds all in one day – and none of them through a car window!
We were tucked into our sleeping bags by 8.00pm, exhausted but exhilarated. I had the uneventful midnight watch, at the end of which I handed over the torch and clock to Rob. ‘All quiet on the Western Front,’ I said, tempting fate.
It was not to remain thus. On his first walkabout, Rob saw it in the torchlight behind a tree trunk with tail flicking. It was a leopard. Maybe it was even THE leopard of the riverbed in the morning. In any event, it moved off quickly – unlike the one in Oom Schalk’s tale – but it is still destined to give Rob years of stories in the pubs of Scotland when he returns home.
At our final indaba before returning to our kombis, the boys struggled to express their feelings and contain their emotions. Clearly the sights, sounds and experiences of the Bushveld had been very special. ‘I learnt the lesson of respect for our environment and for the animals,’ said Jarred. ‘I felt at one with people I had never met before and I trusted them all. I learnt leadership skills through this Wilderness experience.’
Dr Ian MacCallum, well known rugby player and currently a wilderness guide, has this to say about the wilderness: It is our task to rediscover ourselves in Nature. It is an individual choice.
I know that the boys who went on this trip, rediscovered themselves and have chosen to become better human beings because of this experience.
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