©2013
I’ve written my accounts of our adventure at the Dulini Lodge Private Game Reserve in the Sabi Sands region of Kruger National Park, South Africa. If you read my accounts on Facebook while it was actually happening, some of this might seem familiar, but I have added more detail and revised some portions that I felt deserved further detail. I’m sad my written words cannot provide you with the true wonder and excitement I felt during this magical experience, but I hope you enjoy my descriptions as I recall them. William L. Pottorff- December 2013 Our adventure began on Thanksgiving morning 2013 from JFK Airport in New York City nonstop to Johannesburg, South Africa. We picked up a Connecting flight to Victoria Falls Airport, Zimbabwe where we thoroughly enjoyed 3 days of exotic wildlife from the bar deck, the majestic falls, a 1,500 year old Baobab tree and of course crates of Zambezi beer before going to our most coveted destination… our private safari.
Day 1- Sitting here by our own secluded plunge pool in the mid days warmth I have a moment to describe what has caused us such excitement. We unfortunately arrived at Nespruit Airport just as night descended so our 2 1/2 hour drive to Kruger National Park was a blind one, apart from the wonderful commentary provided by our driver Tenise painting wonderful pictures of things to come while approaching the large gates centered by hundereds of miles of electrified razor wire enclosing the wondrous Park. Moments after showing our entry documentation and being allowed to enter through the large gate, our headlamps panned across a meadow to illuminate dozens of glowing eyes staring at us from the blackness of the night. The excited Tenise halted revealing a herd of wildebeest and upon further inspection, they were interspersed with a herd of Zebra... in only the first mile from the gate! As we proceeded we also saw many Impala & other assorted animals from the antelope family, 3 eagle owls, a very hefty hare, a large land snail (I mean LARGE... the size of a softball!) and an extraordinary Chameleon who while literally invisible during the day is easily spotable in the headlights clinging to branches by road side and came in to say hello. We finally pulled into the drive at The Dulini Lodge and were met by Poppy, the sweetest and most accommodating hostess, who handed us a sweet drink and refreshing washrags to wipe away the days travel. She gave us detailed instructions on where we could safely go on the premise and necessitated us to always lock the doors to prevent baboons from ransacking our room. We were then escorted to our own thatch roofed villa and given the tour of our luxurious accommodations that included 1
indoor and outdoor showers, a royal four post bathtub illuminated from above by a beautiful dangling chandelier, 15 foot beamed ceilings, stone walls with custom cabinetry, a bed that could double as a helipad draped in romantic netting and the entire interior was made heavenly by dreamy white window coverings encircling the massive floor plan from floor to ceiling like a romantic gauzy haze. We had a piping hot gourmet meal immediately brought to us by what seemed a battalion of servants before they left us to pass out in anticipation of a 5am wake-up call for our first safari. The dread of the predawn ringing phone vanished quickly as the excitement lifted us out of bed and into our safari wear and out to meet the other guests (a German couple named Axel & Beate), the tracker Isaac and our guide Dinamosi. We all met in the large central meeting area for a delicious coffee brought to us to our specifications while they packed the specialized Land Rover safari rig with provisions and a rifle and we were off. Before we could even learn each other’s names, we were unable to proceed as our road was blocked by two massive White Rhinoceros. After watching for some time and the two of them not looking to move their hulking frames anytime soon, we turned and drove the other direction for only a few minutes and suddenly encountered a remarkably beautiful female Leopard who was only discovered by the sight of the twitch of the tip of her snowy white tail. It was a remarkable sighting by Axel who recognized it after first thinking it was a white bird. I have rarely been so emotionally overwhelmed at the sight of anything as I watched from a short distance its sleek muscles ripple through its wonderfully designed exterior design and its long furry tail twitching mischievously as it decided if the large birds it watched were worth the energy it would take to attempt an attack. We followed until our pursuit was halted by it slipping away into the heavy thicket. We drove along the boundary of a grassy airfield and near a three million dollar Beechcraft King Air twin-turboprop aircraft sitting idle on its concrete pad with no one around but a small group of wildebeest and their wobbly legged offspring. We carried on over a rise to look out panoramically over a half mile stretch of the Sands River before dropping down from the ridge between massive boulders and deposited flashflood debris to the edge of the river. We stopped before a very narrow concrete dam with the rivers torrent spilling over its crest and forming a small waterfall into a large gurgling channel below. We began to crawl over the submerged bridge with the surging water level approaching the floor boards as I held on tightly, more than slightly concerned about being swept over the side, but we made it across to a chorus of sighs of relief. The four wheel drive dug into the deep beach like sand on the far side and we advanced to a lookout over a wide area in the river where a “bloat” of hippopotamus 2
watched us through bug eyes over massive snouts with their ears wiggling like protruding trout tails. Little babies bobbed in their mothers wakes and the sight of a big bull yawning, exposing his huge pink mouth and protruding teeth made us all laugh in providing us with that anticipated moment. Soon we stopped to stretch our legs near a water hole about the size of an average 711 floor plan that we were told was probably originated from an elephant digging for roots long ago. It seems those small indentations kicked into the earth sometimes puddle by rain and become a wallow, initially for warthogs and then larger and larger animals until, over many years, evolves into a water hole and a habitat for many varieties of animals. This particular pool had a large tree at one end covered in dozens of human-head sized hanging baskets and swarming with beautiful yellow Weaver birds who created these nests by… weaving them. The pond also had what looked like man made bright white sacs hanging from bushes over the water that actually contained eggs belonging to variety of frogs that give their offspring a better chance to survive by maturing above the predators before falling into the pond at the appropriate time to endure. The boys provided hot mocha-coffee and biscuits for us to enjoy during our brief respite in the morning sun before we packed up and got back underway. We began driving back to the lodge when Dinamosi stopped and told us this is where Isaac would be taking over the driving as we would be getting out of the Land Rover and hiking the remainder of the way back to the lodge with him. I must say I felt liberated and excited, especially after reading “Whatever You Do… Don’t Run” by former safari guide Peter Allison and how he safely dealt with so many potentially dangerous situations with deadly animals… that and the loaded rifle Dinamosi hoisted over his shoulder, but Debs and Beate were not nearly as enthusiastic. Axel seemed perfectly at home as he was strolling along carefree. Dinamosi explained this was not the time to see the big five, to keep our voices down and walk in single file which didn’t do much to sooth the ladies nerves. As Isaac drove off it suddenly became very real to me that we were in Africa. I know that sounds odd after all we had been through already but I think it was the stillness in the air, the unevenness under the grass we walked through, the smells that are whisked away and the details that are blurred while driving that unknowingly detracted from the true 3
experience that I was now feeling. We were shown the vivid reds and golds of sweet smelling wild flowers, the colorful patterned shell of a baby leopard tortoise, plants that were used by primitive natives for brushing teeth, a powerful Steppe Eagle perched and ready to ambush his prey from the branch of a dead tree and many assorted animal tracks and dungs. Dinamosi even showed us how to spit an impala poo pellet for incredible distance‌ I hope he used the toothbrush bush after that demonstration (it was certainly an exhibition of his skill and not a contest as there was no opposition to his effort!). We walked back into camp to Poppy’s welcome tray of wet washcloths, a cool drink and an invitation to come back to breakfast after we freshened up. A lovely chat with the lodge’s owner Ian and a full belly later, we were soaking up the hot sun, sharing our redwood porch with several brightly colored lizards. Day 1: Afternoon- Ok... so when last I took some time to put down my thoughts regarding this adventure in mingling our souls with these visions of Gods greatest gifts and natures greatest triumphs, we were sunning by our private plunge pool while our butler Maurice provided to our every whim. After another delicious and abundant meal, this time lunch on the lawn overlooking the dry riverbed where Impala bounce by and elephants normally trudge through the deep sand thoroughfare to grassy meadows, we climbed aboard the Land Rover with Isaac, Dinamosi, Axel and Beate for our afternoon safari. Beate expressed an interest in seeing hyena and being their last evening trip, the boys where dedicated to providing this experience for them. It seems many guides rely on their trackers perched on the front of their vehicles to simply spot animals as they travel the labyrinth of rutted and rocky paths or for other sightings to be radioed to them from where ever animals are found around the eight cooperating private game reserves we are allowed to travel. Our ranger/tracker team are not only experts on the roads, plants, trees, birds, reptiles, mammals and all of their intricate nuances but have since childhood learned the art of tracking and seem to do more locating than joining sightings. Fascination takes over experiencing the complicated dialect of hand signals, groans and grunts used to communicate in manipulating the ridiculously long wheelbase of our 9 seated rig through impossible terrain while following animal tracks in the soil. Simultaneously they are monitoring the slightest movement from the dense underbrush to the towering treetops, listening for alarms from prey, sniffing for the scents of dung and all the while explaining interesting anecdotes like why the Jacana is nicknamed the Jesus Christ bird (its wide spreading toe-span allows it to walk on water)... all with wide toothy grins exposing the true love of their calling in life. So off we rumbled to find the elusive hyenas, especially now when their recently birthed cubs require their relative 4
proximity. Soon after leaving our compound we came across our friends the white rhinos from the morning safari and several members of the Antelope family from the tiny body of the big-eyed Dyker to the massive curly horned Nyala. We drove to a previously known hyena den that was abandon before going to plan B. The afternoon before we arrived, a dead rhinoceros had been found about 10k from our lodge. The scene was designated a restricted area by parks police for an official investigation into the possibility of poaching. Officials concluded the death had been caused by a goring in a battle with another rhino. Our trackers felt that would be a good place to look for the scavenging hyenas. As we came up over the hill to the sandy area where the rhinos fully intact corpse laid less than a day earlier, our fellow passengers all gasped loudly to the sight of only a completely emptied skin that resembled a dirty-grey, deflated hot air balloon. The rotting stench and swarm of flies was vile but a reminder of realities modern life insulates us from. We left hastily, nearly consumed by the smell and carried on for about 5 minutes of fresh air into a dry river bed. The presence of the rhino stench and fresh tracks convinced Isaac there was a hyena very near. Dina switched off the ignition and in moments remarkably pointed out from 50 yards the bear-like face of a female hyena peering out from amongst the undergrowth. It momentarily stared at us then bolted. The low speed chase was on as Isaac directed us through the thick bush to follow her angle and hopefully be able to observe her in an open area. As we busted out onto a primitive dirt road, we found another female hyena lying on her side in the midst of nursing her cub on a grassy berm next to the road. We slowly approached and Dina stopped only a few yards from the mother and cub. We sat and watched for quite some time in silence as the mother looked into our eyes and fed her baby. I have always thought of hyena being ruthless, barbaric scavenging beasts that tore flesh and crushed bones with powerful jaws, but watching her perform her motherly duties softened my heart towards this creature. The other female we tracked arrived from out of the brush and greeted the nursing mother with yelps and yips before nipping at her snout in an affectionate way. She was expecting a cub soon according to Dina and was much darker in color due to crawling through the carcass of the fallen rhino and being covered by its blood and grease... and rotten stench. OK... in conclusion my prejudice regarding the disposition of these animals was tempered... but is still warranted. As darkness took hold and we left the hyenas to head back to the lodge, tracker Isaac plugged in a powerful hand held spotlight and began scanning back and forth across our route home from his seat jutting from in front of the Land Rover. Searching for the reflective eyes, his channel of light swung left and right and suddenly stopped. From the 5
sea of inkiness came the colors of gold and orange in a fluid movement that took a moment to identify as the muscular flank of a smoothly striding giraffe. It almost looked as if the movement was being projected on a wall as the beam followed its slow progress through the dark. A giraffe’s eyes can be damaged by the strength of the bright light so it was only a momentary glimpse, but one I will cherish in my mind’s eye forever. Dinner was delicious and explained in detail, like every meal, with pride (for good reason) by Dulini’s head chef. All of the produce was grown fresh in gardens or harvested from native trees on the premises. The buffet was copious with some of the tastiest lamb chops I have ever eaten and served outside by a bonfire with both our guide, Dinamosi and the other guide, Fred, who shared stories from his years of experience at his former position with a competitor before only recently being poached based on his reputation to become a guide at Dulini. After a superb meal, an outstanding bread pudding for desert and after-dinner drinks, traditional native singing and dancing was performed to our delight of which we all eventually participated by doing a type of African rumba line, kicking out to the rhythm of the drums as we circled around the bonfire courtyard . Exhausted and stuffed with food and drink, we were escorted back to our villa by torch light to retire after a truly remarkable day and best of all… only our first! Day 2- I leaned over and kissed Debs good night and received a playful slap when reminding her this would be the last kiss she gets in her forties. After an adventures day and an evening of imbibing in liquid refreshments we drifted into fast slumber and awoke to the ringing of our 5:00am wake-up call. Debs first official action as a 50 year old was to stub her little pinky toe on the corner of the unfamiliar wall. The best part of this is... it can only get better. And it did for our lovely birthday girl. I gave Debs a couple of birthday cards; the one "To Mommy" signed with Triggers paw print brought tears but the gift she opened with the crocodile bracelet I had noticed she loved & purchased clandestinely in a boutique in Zimbabwe brought excitement to her eyes and the best part... the wonderful smile to her pretty face. We set out after a rich cup of African coffee into brilliantly sunny countryside with one confirmed mission for our tracker & guide: Africa's Big Five for Debs Big Five-Oh! The big five consists of Lion, Rhino, Cape Buffalo, Elephant & Leopard & the boys thought if luck was with us we had a shot at achieving seeing all five. We sat in the center row of the specialized Land Rover just behind our friends Axel & Beate who were embarking 6
on their final game drive before returning home to Johannesburg after a self-proclaimed fantastic stay at Dulini Lodge. We stopped briefly at a nearby water hole to look at a massive stork stoically standing on the bank when we noticed a crocodile methodically herding fish towards the shore. When the small fish reached the bank and had nowhere to go, they attempted to leap out of the water over the snapping jaws of the hungry reptile to safety. Many of the fish were successful in their leaping evasion however Mr. Crocodile was not going to be hungry anytime soon. We drove on well to the north on narrow roads, choked by the ever encroaching growth of the advancing jungle until we broke out of the dense green into the open air of an expansive meadow. Dinamosi turned the wheel hard and began to cross through the knee high grass towards the tree line where the jungle began again about a mile away. Bouncing & bumping across the nonexistent road between the occasional dead tree whose black leafless branches continued to reach to the sky like craggy old fingers. We proceeded about halfway across the plain when suddenly several large golden heads emerged above the green grassline to identify the intruders entering their territory. Moments later to our thorough enjoyment, three lionesses sharing eight small cubs were next to our well positioned parking spot. These massive females paid no attention to us only a few feet away but instead played with their cubs, kept an eye on a herd of impala grazing across the grassland or put their heads down and relaxed in the morning warmth. Debbie especially enjoyed watching their gentle playfulness in contrast to their obvious power and potential fierceness later saying this emotional experience meant more to her than any other she encountered. We briefly bonded with these beautiful creatures and then followed as they got up stretched, walked to the crest of a small dirt mound that rose above the breeze swept sea of grass. The huge cats took up regal poses for us to wonder at their royal majesty while we smiled and photographed like Hollywood paparazzi. Other trucks arrived with observers deserving their bonding moments so we were off to find another of the special treasures this amazing place contains. There were rumors that there was a Cheetah sighting in a bordering area which we were not allowed access, so the boys wanted to look for signs the rare cat may have crossed over. We drove along without finding tracks on the road so Isaac left us to walk into the bush alone & unarmed in search of evidence. He only just disappeared into the brush before he was quickly back on board ranting at his laughing ranger that he nearly walked into a small herd of the deadly Cape Buffalo. Once he pointed, we could clearly see these oxen like monsters grazing towards us like big black Escalades with absurdly large hood ornaments. Isaac never told us the whole story but it involved being near death and being up a tree so he was 7
not interested in getting near these brutes on foot. Diamosi explained Buffalo are the one animal that if confronted he would be forced to shoot dead. He felt strongly he could get himself and his guests out any fix with any other animal in his jungle except buffalo as they are just plain mean and seem to get pleasure in stomping irritations to death.(I think he had stories he wasn’t sharing either). We left Isaac a safe distance from the buffalo to try to track the cheetah but he was only successful in finding a couple more rhino (White Rhino, who's head points downward, are peaceful and only eats grass as opposed to the Black Rhino whose head stays up for eating only leaves and is like the Buffalo, very dangerous... and very rarely seen as its numbers have dwindled due to poaching and it prefers the dense jungle for its leaves) before we collected him and headed off back to the lodge. We said goodbye to our German friends, lunched alone in the shade by the main pool and lounged on our secluded deck in the very hot sun, dosing between frequent dips in our refreshing plunge pool. Tea and cakes at 4:00 proceeded by another opportunity to see the wildlife, this time with a new couple visiting from Washington DC; George & Jess who love to laugh and became fun friends. A million Impalas (known as the "McDonalds" of the antelope species because... they are bloody everywhere!) a lovely variety of birds (I have come to appreciate our feathered friends more than ever and have actually cracked a book to confirm the identity of the little buggers... but I ain't no bird nerd!) and a very cool leopard tortoise who attempted to scamper away but was captured easily for inspection before being released. Later we entered a small valley that was infested with elephants. They were everywhere, pulling grass and stuffing it in their faces, babies running about, a big bull flapping his ears and trumpeting at us (a very funny baby stepped up to us, after his daddy had sent a strong signal that HE was allowing us to watch HIS herd, and gave us a cute little trumpet of defiance and stared us down with his ears flapping... until he suddenly realized his daddy had wandered off and he was alone, so he quickly turned and ran, stumbling away uncoordinatedly in hastily retreat). I found, in my opinion, something quite wise about the elephants in general and although they are all business about asserting dominance they seem to enjoy playing, their friends and it seemed life in general... much the same philosophy as I have... only I don't poo quite so much. We left the valley of the elephants and twisted around roads previously not traveled. We climbed towards the top of what looked to be the highest elevation anywhere in the area. The sun began to blast through thick bulbous clouds that had collected in the west sending heavenly angels rays down to create vivid green patches in the dark carpet of the jungle below. We came around a tight corner to a clearing and were shocked to see members of the staff of Dulini standing before tables filled with tasty appetizers, a full 8
bar and bottles of iced Champagne in celebration of Debbie's birthday. Other jeeps arrived and as the sun slid slowly towards the horizon, under the serrated green leaves of an ancient Jackalberry tree, overlooking South Africa as far as the eyes could see in all directions, we all toasted a milestone in the life of the loveliest person I have ever been lucky enough to know. There were smiles, ahhhs, hugs and tears, drinks and laughs and appreciation... for each other, the kindness of others to make a significant day a very memorable day, and for a God that is so kind to supply an oddly unique crimson sky above all of his creatures that inhabit this extraordinary land. The curtain of night time fell quickly on the remainder of this special date to reveal the inky blackness of the jungles nocturnal side. We drove back towards the lodge in jolly fashion while Isaac's spot lite pierced the blackness back and forth like he was following a tennis match. His ray suddenly illuminated two red eyes that he momentarily fixed on but then after announcing "Impala" continued his zig-zag search... until his beam once again reflected back to those eyes and now they were blue. As he explained later, only certain animals have a membrane that slides into place when exposed to light that protects the eye, aids in night hunting and changes the eyed color. In this case it was a leopard and the chase was on! Isaac was shouting directions & Dina was racing down the road until he spotted a slight clearing in the heavy thicket and plowed in shouting "Hang on!� We ripped through the underbrush, bushes scraping all around and under us as we bounced & banged, tossed & turned. Poor Isaac protected his face with his arm from being slashed by thorny growth while dutifully swinging the spot light to & fro in an attempt to locate our target. Bowling over small bushes, loud cracks from splintering branches, violent shifts to the vehicle, shouts of direction, eyes racing like pendulums, heart pounding in expectation until everything momentarily stopped as the beam of light settled on a huge orange figure with black spots sitting licking his big padded paw only about 10 yards away. The gasps were unanimous at the size and beauty of this oversized male whose velvety pattern stretched over its rippling muscles. Our camera's rattled and whirred in attempting to capture his likeness with limited success under these harsh lighting conditions. We followed closely surprisingly without any acknowledgement by the leopard, even with the large spot light trained directly on him. We followed until he disappeared into the exit door of solid blackness behind impassable terrain. We
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crept back out of the woods and onto the road chattering away, completely juiced by the excitement but by the time we arrived back at the camp we experienced the adrenaline bounce and were all quiet with exhaustion. Our wonderful hostess Poppy greeted us as always with damp wash clothes to freshen up and a sweet drink to refresh our thirst before declaring dinner would be served in one half hour. As we were escorted to our room, Debs shared she wished she didn't have to change and go out again. We entered and found our dining room formally set for a meal below the romantic light of the large chandelier, complete with Champagne chilling in a sterling ice bucket ensconced in local flowers. A squeal of joy rose from the bathroom as Debs had discovered the staff had run a steamy bath for her complete with mounds of foamy bubbles and a large glass of red wine. Our menu was provided along with a birthday card and lovely gift of a shiny golden zebra keychain. When relaxed and suitably hungry our butler Maurice brought us the first of our 5 course meal including a creamy sweet potato soup, salad, ostrich carpaccio, perfectly cooked beef steaks with fresh vegetables and a surprise desert. While Maurice attended to us we learned he was from Malawi, a small east African country that takes him over 40 hours to reach by bus each time he goes to see his family. He talks in thoughtful sentences, speaking in measured tones in a soft voice with a touch of gravel. His face forms into a smile slowly but often and he epitomizes self-control every moment. After a very short time, he understood how he could best help us to most thoroughly enjoy our time in his care. Debs asked him to join us in a glass of Champagne of which he declined as he said he never had a drink in his life but went on to tell an interesting tale. His brother-in-law decided it was time that he had a drink so he took him to a local bar. When Maurice ordered a Fanta, his brother-in-law had a loaf of bread brought to him as well to ridicule him for his drink choice. Fanta poured over bread is served to children as a desert when extra money allowed for such luxury. Maurice was so offended he left that bar and to this day has never had a drink. He spoke looking into us with eyes that have seen the misery of poverty, whose face looks far more weathered than his years on earth belie but his white smile that contrasts so fully from the rich color of his African skin contains a measure of happiness. Maurice was joined by his assistant and bashfully participated in a hearty rendition of happy birthday. Maurice rolled his eyes when he continued the song with "How old are you now..." which the youngster thought was the absolute funniest thing of all time, wiping his eyes in laughter and repeating it again and again to himself as Maurice shooed him out the door. When Maurice cleared away the last of the dishes and asked if there was anything he could do for us to make our evening better, he spoke the truth in the most sincere way, 10
confirming his allegiance to us and his dedication to provide us with everything in his power to supply. He bowed as he closed the door and we looked at each other in complete admiration of this man and his serving prowess. It was truly a wonderful day for me and best yet, for Debs a day she will never forget. Day 3- The morning of our second day on safari began as I emerged from the blurry depths of slumber to focus on the tinny sound of a voice coming from the disengaged receiver of our wakeup call. My eyes threw open as I lurched upright and exclaimed to a startled Debs that she took the phone off the hook… to which she quickly glanced and replied the handset was properly cradled. We both went very still, straining to hear the voice… when a bird suddenly interrupted the silence with a remarkable impression of someone speaking on a phone that is off the hook. As recognition occurred we simultaneously looked at each other and grinned, in unison brought our wrists to our eyes, dreading the hour notification on our watches and dropped back onto our pillows with sighs and a soft whump. We were only a few minutes away from the real call so it was nice to cuddle in preparation for a new day of adventure. We only had one electric converter that allowed for us to upkeep functionality of five cameras, two phones and a tablet (that may seem like a lot… but each had their important features and were utilized) so I was always preoccupied with which electronic apparatus was charging, getting low or in the red. Each morning before going out was my last opportunity for technological triage to continue managing the capturing of our exotic moments we will enjoy throughout our lifetimes. We stepped out of our lodge (locking the door only to thwart the issued warning of a baboon invasion) to a much muted outdoors; the welcomed sound and fragrance of the jungle choked by humidity and a slight chill along with wet walkways confirmed rain before we walked out into a light pelting of large raindrops. Our brief walk along the wooden footpath to the meeting area was slightly more subdued with a touch of sleep deprivation and grey skies overhead, but our interest was instantly resurrected by the enthusiasm our guide and tracker injected with their broad smiles and hearty welcomes. Their zeal heightened further when I surprised them by performing (vaguely interpretable I’m afraid) the good morning greeting I had learned the night before from our butler Maurice. Combined with piping hot cups of rich caffeination and the unanimous agreement to track the daytime illusive giraffe, we donned luxurious ponchos (seems an oxymoron… but they were lined with thick, warm fur and had high water resistance qualities) climbed aboard our safari vessel, now fitted with a protective canopy, and set off. Not long after leaving the compound, Isaac threw up his hand in excitement, as if he had seen a tyrannosaurus rex, and bolted from his seat at the front of our car as we jolted to a stop. He made an eager bee-line towards a bush to the side of the road and began harvesting hands full of bright red fruit that he found gastronomic nirvana… but I found “jungle plums” revolting (a cross between a 11
lemon and a sour pickle in mucus like pulp stretched over 90% seed with a thin, sharply bitter skin… I won’t be searching for these abominations in the world of fruits in the supermarket). He explained that the natives eat them to combat hunger as they give the illusion the stomach is filled… however I would say it is due to queasiness from the gastrointestinal rebellion I received from eating just one of these fruits from hell. After Isaac harvested enough of these plums to make an entire village retch, we drove on and Debbie soon proved her roots in the bush (darkest depths of Stoke-on-Trent) by out-spotting the tracker and pointing out a solitary elephant tromping out of the bush. We watched him watching us before he lost interest and went back to his full time job of foraging for the 400 to 700 pounds of vegetation he must consume daily. Watching this creature was inspiration, imagining the creator’s supreme originality and obvious sense of humor in the novelty of plugging all the pieces and parts together to make such a large and spectacularly bizarre animal. Dinamosi drove us onward as the drizzle advanced to a level of steady rain and bombs of water pooled on the canopy to splash on our heads as we bounced along the puddle pitted roadway. Even under these conditions, Isaac sat on the front in his unprotected seat, drenched beyond what even the finest poncho could shield and kept his head always scanning between the brush for animal sightings to the road to locate fresh prints. Dinamosi explained the rain sends many birds for cover and some animals, but it also increases the opportunity to witness a kill as many predators use the sound of the rain to conceal any noise generated by their approach. We went through a noticeably longer period without an animal sighting (with the exception of some birds and the everpresent predator sustenance… impala), not certain if it was due to the rain or just traveling to an barren area rich in only giraffes. Twice, while concentrating on the ever changing rainforest passing by, I saw a long, tower of orange protruding noticeably from the green hues of growth well off the road. When I excitedly brought it to our guides attention, he simply shook me off explaining it was only a tree that had its bark torn off by an elephant’s tusks exposing the under cambium layer that is very tasty for elephants and makes for a great giraffe disguise for us undereducated human observers. We proceeded until Isaac raised his dripping hand to halt us so he could examine the road. He considered the prints before him, wheeled and pointed off into a thicket to the left of us and off we went leaving the relative smooth road behind. Slowly we crept over uneven spaces between trees and rocks, squeezing through a veil of green into a clearing where there in front of us, rising like a skyscraper, unwavering with grace, jaw grinding away as he chewed his cud, was our pursuit, a young male giraffe of about 15 feet tall. Males are most easily identified by the condition of their horns (technically they are not horns but called ossicones) as only the males use them to fight, 12
tearing off the fur covering and leaving females ossicones’ pristine. In looking at how large and how the giraffe’s coloring differed from its environment while standing in the open, one would think they would be easy to differentiate, however I was astonished how they can completely disappear only moments after stepping away, simply melting away into the jungle, something I would be very skeptical reading if I hadn’t seen it myself. There was chatter on the radio and Dinamosi replied with a smile and pressed the accelerator down as we left the solitary giraffe behind. Minutes later we were witnessing a female leopard, the mother of the female we saw the first day, emerge from the brush as we drove along beside her only a few feet away. She walked through a clearing and then scaled a tree without breaking stride to take a spot on a branch looking down on our position to Debs discomfort. I must admit… I was battling with my camera to get the correct f-stop and shutter speed settings and the autofocus was erroneously focusing on foreground leaves and not on the splendor of this amazing creature. I finally just stopped and said to myself… enjoy what you are witnessing Bill! I realized I can buy a book with photos better than I am ever capable of shooting but I will never get another chance to see this awesome sight again. So I relaxed and observed and absorbed and really saw that wonderful cat as it surveyed its territory from atop that branch… and I even managed to get a couple satisfactory photos. The rain had stopped but the sky was still gray as we watched the leopard disappear into the thicket and we began to head back to the lodge after a very successful morning. Breakfast after a safari tastes better than any other breakfast I remember. We were told that many guests fill up on the extraordinary buffet that is set up before they realize that they can order a full cooked breakfast with large orange yoked eggs any style, thick bacon, plump sausages, cooked tomatoes and fresh mushrooms. But I enjoyed the thinly sliced lox from Mozambique with local capers the size of large olives that simply exploded with flavor before getting the eggs, bacon, sausage and mushrooms (I can’t work out why my waistband is a little snug…) As the weather was not as perfect as the previous days we stayed in our room and Debs napped and I wrote until later when we lunched lightly and then resumed napping and writing (I cant remember what we used to do before we started acting like we are rich?) before it was time to get back out and find some more animals. When we left our room (after baboon lockup) we realized we were surrounded by a herd of 10-12 impalas and nyalas that we needed to pass closely on the way to the meeting area. I was so enchanted by the close proximity to 13
these beautiful animals that I didn’t consider their horns could very easily be used as skewers to make me a human shish-kebab, although the careful management weren’t concerned by our nearness either. Two more folks joined us; a couple who drove up from Nelspruit to stay the night and enjoy two drives as well as our DC friends George and Jess, so for the first time our Land Rover was filled to capacity. The rain clouds had vanished however there was still an unrelenting gray layer of clouds insulating us from the blue sky that apparently was going to continue its insolation for the remainder of the day. Ponchos weren’t necessary, but George found it essential to have a few beers with us on the trail… to bring us luck… and who am I to go against such sound logic? I don’t think Dinamosi was too keen on the idea and was looking at the ground scratching his head in contemplation before allowing his safari rover to become a party car and firmly told us to keep them down as George and I clinked our tins while leaving the compound. The evening safari was about the king of the beasts… not me as Debbie will attempt to convince you… the huge, man-eating, face framed with a golden mane, male lion. I once went on a tiger safari in Rajasthan, India and didn’t see anything more of a tiger than his paw print and with everything else I saw, it was still one of the greatest adventures I ever experienced that I enjoyed enormously. So with all I had already seen and done on this series of safaris there was no way I was going to be disappointed if I didn’t see a lion… but I think everyone understands my longing as we all have a special spot in our hearts for the king of the beasts. Dinamosi headed south as he described accounts of sightings of a female lion in a region near the border of area we were allowed to patrol which could mean males nearby. Intently searching the eternity of the passing jungle for tiny details can over time begin to play games with ones senses and seemed futile when the guide must point out an animal that suddenly appears as plain as its name written on a chalkboard when only moments before was entirely invisible. Dinamosi stopped dead in the road and made me jump when let loose with an indescribable explosion of sound that soon was described by him as a baboon call as he pointed towards a massive male in the top of a tree I had just been looking at. He explained the dominant male goes to the top of the tree while the rest of the troop looks for food and he warns them with this call that I felt Dinamosi performed better… at least louder! We started again and followed the road through the thick jungle and around a bend opening into a meadow revealing a massive female white rhinoceros and her young baby nestled in the high grass by her side. Not sure how one could describe the baby as cute… but somehow… only a few month’s old and very entertaining to watch stumble around in contrast to his mother’s carefully placed steady footing… the little bugger was cute. We continued to the south stopping once to look at a large pile of elephant excrement beside the road. This may not sound very interesting, but it was being cultivated by a 14
group of industrious dung beetles. They decimate a large pile in a short time, building the waste into tight balls as much as 10 times their weight and rolling them to their nesting areas to be inseminated with eggs/larva that live on it until eventually becoming beetles and starting the cycle once again. Just down the road, Isaac raised his hand and hopped from the front as Dinamosi stopped abruptly. Isaac studied the road then pointed and we were suddenly bounding off road through the high grass in that direction. Soon we saw her, gliding sleekly through the grass. She was very thin and in need of a kill so we followed as long as we could until she disappeared with purpose into an inaccessible area of trees and rocks. We later heard that she came out on the other side of the woods she went into and bagged a warthog to the enjoyment of a group from another lodge. On several occasions I noticed where a log had been across the road with only the center portion cut away leaving the road clear but the remainder on both sides of the road, so I asked why this was. Fred, another of Dulini’s guides and a wonderful fireside storyteller explained that elephants often push down trees or branches over the road and by law, the game reserve management only has a few days to remove the obstruction and may only remove the portion that clears a thoroughfare. This is because the fallen debris almost immediately becomes a new habitat for all sorts of life and the park protects all levels of life forms from being disturbed. It made me stop for a moment and think about life and how all levels are interconnected and how nature is so finely balanced and must be allowed to maintain its balance in these important environments as we may not understand the damage we can inflict by the smallest interference until it’s too late. It’s taken the better part of a century for many indigenous farmers to understand the business of tourism can bring them and future generations better and more sustainable lifestyles instead of their less predictable agricultural pursuits. Some have allowed their lands to be reverted to the wild and fiercely protect every aspect of conservation which has increased the habitats for new generations of wildlife observing and in turn allowed tourist money to be introduced into their suffering economy. We pursued the winding path through the jungle nearing the southernmost boundary from where the reports of the female were generated. In places we drove on not much more than a path, just two brown tire ruts surrounded with green swaths of grass rising to sheer walls of thick jungle tunneling around and well above us. Soon we came out of the jungle to a large open space and over a rise to a water hole guarded by the red face, stick legs and long, slender beak of a Saddle-billed Stork. He inspected us as we drove by, circling the elevated bank around the water hole. Another vehicle came into view parked, with its passengers in the midst of delight in the observation of something out of our view. 15
Their smiling faces changed from watching in wonder to looking at us with pride in being the first to witness, yet pleased to share the vision of a single lioness perched in an imperial pose on the elevated bank surveying the jungle below. As with all of the predators, she paid no attention to our presence as she roared, believe it or not… quietly. It wasn’t until that night around the fire after dinner that Fred the guide explained that three large and particularly nasty male lions where just over the border, roaring in a not so quiet manner. Our female was separated from the group of lionesses we had seen the morning before with several cubs and she was trying to make contact with others without the males hearing in fear that the males would come eat the cubs as they often do. It was a roaring whisper that sounded more like a case of lion laryngitis. Needless to say, we weren’t able to see the mail lions and we talked about the possibility of seeing them the following day when we stopped in a large meadow by a pond on our way back to the lodge. Our hosts broke out their portable bar and mixed drinks, poured wine and popped the tabs of our beers. It seemed to grow dark very quickly and by the time the drinks were served it was pitch black with only the headlights illuminating the darkness. The girls voiced a touch of concern about being out of the proven security of our rolling fortress and in the open to potentially become prey as we were only a few minutes’ drive from where we left the lioness. I went around the back of the truck near the pond to relieve myself, leaving the sanctuary of our protectors and the rays of light that battled the completeness of the dark and I must admit I had a moment of uneasiness while I scanned the obscurity of the blackness in my most vulnerable of positions, intently listening for sound of approaching peril. I believe Imagination is a gift from God, that those who have it would enjoy more and those who lack it are envious, but imagination can manifest itself in dark and dangerous ways that can be traced to Lucifer himself when absolute nothingness can fill ones moment into an eternity of fear. Fleeting but frightening, anxious and exhilarating… when is the last time you can describe taking a wee like that? Only in Africa! The boys packed up and as we drove off across the meadow with the headlights throwing off shards of illumination through the deep grass, a spooked Jackal bounded out then stopped and nervously looked back at us before a Genet, a cat like creature with pointy nose and a longer version of a raccoons hooped tail, ran off in another direction… made me wonder if they were watching me wee? As we were proceeding home, a radio call came in that a lioness made a kill near home base and we stopped by as Fred’s tracker had his high powered light trained on the base of a large tree just off the grassy airfield we traveled by each day. The massive cat 16
had finished off a small impala’s body and was working on its skull with loud cracking and crunches coming from her big teeth and powerful jaws. The location of our vehicle, the brightness of the spotlight and her position in the grass under the tree muted the visual experience to a tangled blur so the ingestion became primarily an experience received acoustically and uniquely displayed an auditory power. Much like the steel trap sound of a snapping crocodile’s jaws we would hear later in our trip, it seems sound can root itself deep into the recesses of one’s memory, possibly even deeper than visual recollection. We arrived back at Dulini Lodge to Poppy’s swab and sweet drink, changed and met by the warmth of the raging fireplace under the wall-less meeting area with its towering thatched roof for a dinner buffet. Dinner was spread over several tables with nearly a dozen tasty dishes of which my favorite was a baked ostrich in a thick, zesty, barbeque type sauce. Debs was enjoying the free range chicken until she sampled a morsel of my ostrich and was compelled to get back up for a helping of the big bird meat. Ostrich has the color and texture of beef, yet lower in cholesterol and calories than chicken, turkey, pork, and beef. Throughout our journey, I very much enjoyed Biltong which is a dried version of ostrich (also made of game like kudu, springbok and even shark) that tastes similar to Beef Jerky and is very handy to keep in the pocket and curb the appetite with a high protein/low calorie snack between meals. There are shops throughout South Africa devoted entirely to biltong that resemble tobacco shops and we even saw gourmet types at tastings that were offered in the wine region. We talked after dinner with Fred and Dinamosi about the probability of seeing the lions in the morning, our final safari and last opportunity. Dinamosi was very noncommittal but Fred gave me a smile and said, “One never knows”, but with an air of optimism that I felt and took with me. Fred also told us that only moments before we arrived at the scene earlier, the lioness that was devouring the impala gave a good chew on its cranium causing an eyeball to come bursting out of its skull like a large spherical kernel of popcorn. The groans, gags and bowed bobbing heads of his passengers now at the supper table confirmed it was not a pleasant spectacle and made me partially pleased my primary recollection was only the sound. Our further conversation was interrupted by an individual’s loud melodic call followed by a group response and rhythmic drums and a line of brightly dressed dancers filed into the area chanting local African songs and performing a variety of dances that we eventually were physically pulled into joining while laughing and dancing the evening away. Day 4- Our final day began a little earlier than the others. We were up before the phone rang to organize the flotsam of three days on holiday, spread in every corner of our villa in hopes of reducing the frantic return from our final safari. As we collected and packed in silence, I noticed that we hadn’t had any artificial sound or images since we left the 17
Nelspruit airport nearly four days before…and it hadn’t even occurred to me. It was addition to the serenity and natural environment by the subtraction of conventional media. I learned of Nelson Mandela’s death from a Facebook post by Debbie’s cousin in New Jersey last night on my cell phone. No news makes for an even more relaxing holiday (ignorance is bliss) but this news made us wonder about how the people of South Africa would deal with the passing of the most influential political figure in all of Africa, a hero to most in the war against white imperialism and how it might affect the rest of our trip. It all turned out to be a peaceful celebration of an amazing man’s life and accomplishments. We caffeined-up and hit the trail under overcast skies that looked to have a better chance of clearing than storming. Fingers of fog slithered between the trees recoloring the depth of the jungle from shades of green to hues of gray. Our Range Rover was once again filled to capacity with the usual suspects and we were all hoping for a big lion payoff. I noticed we set off south again but using a different road that took us next to the fence that completely encircles the park. Over six hundred miles of 15 foot, razor-wired and electrified fencing that needs nearly constant upkeep to insure the animals stay out of the bordering villages and in a struggle to keep poachers out. Subsistence poachers get over, around or through this fence and somehow navigate through the jungle undetected, normally in the dark of moonless nights, they avoid being eaten by predators and somehow find the rhinoceros, kill them, remove their horns (normally hacked off of their face with an ax of machete, sometimes while they are still alive) and get back unobserved to sell them. Organized crime syndicates finance professional poaching teams who now use helicopters with night vision equipment, darting the animals and using chainsaws for quicker and more effective results. Worth more than gold or cocaine, rhino horn can fetch around $65,000 a kilo on the black market but is amazingly only made of keratin (and some calcium at its center for rigidity it is hypothesized), the same nearly worthless material as our hair and fingernails. It is popular in countries like China as a status symbol with large numbers of new millionaires who snort it like cocaine, while in neighboring Vietnam people (including politicians and high ranking military officials proclaim vocally on the record) wrongly believe it can cure cancer, gout, and arthritis or even prevent a hangover, but it is not, as most people think, thought of as an aphrodisiac. Park management has begun a program that drills holes into the horns and injects a type of poison that doesn’t affect the rhino but will be poisonous to the end user if ingested. We saw a rhino with a large red ring in its ear that warned potential poachers that this animal’s horn was toxic. The South African government has also deployed 18
troops to the area, uses radar to detect unauthorized helicopter use and has a pilot program using drones (Google has donated $5 million to the World Wildlife Federation, for a drone program that has diminished poaching in Nepal) with heat detection to discover poachers. But I feel the best solution is another idea by Wildlife Ranching South Africa (WRSA), a group of over 1,500 ranchers like rhino breeder John Hume who currently has over 800 rhinos on his highly protected land near Kruger where he harvests the horn every 18 months without killing the creatures. It is currently legal to harvest and store horn however it is illegal to sell. If rhino horn sales were legalized, free enterprise commerce would prevail and the horn becomes a replenishable commodity, the market would be satisfied thus bringing the price down and reducing the willingness of poachers to deal with the penalties of being caught is the contention. I find parallels with my fairly liberal stance on the war on drugs that seems impossible to win. However, if legalized, regulated and taxed with the proceeds provided for organizational infrastructure and reduced level of only policing the black market, the situation could be much better managed. The bottom line is something must be done as the statistics tell a sad story. From 2000 until 2007 the average number of poaching kills averaged a reprehensible yet manageable average of 14 dead animals per year. However in 2009 it jumped to 83, to 448 in 2011 to nearly 1,000 this year as well as a daring heists of the harvested horns of naturally deceased rhinos from vaults at assorted game reserves in South Africa, displays off walls of big game hunters around the world and remarkably natural history museums primarily across Europe (including the theft at the Natural History Museum in Tring, England of a fake rhino head made of resin when officials replaced the original after taking notice of the epidemic of thievery and thwarting the now imprisoned criminal). As always, it is problem that requires organization and cooperation, two things that seem to be lacking regarding this issue, but I feel optimistic these great creatures will be seen by generations to come. So we carried on along the fence then branched off back through the deep jungle into a large opening that was currently inhabited by a herd of zebra’s. This was the first time we came across these graphically painted horses since our initial entrance to the park in the dark of the first night. It was wonderful to see their lovely coloring and enjoyed watching a wobbly baby follow momma in a futile attempt to get at her milk until to our congratulatory applause when the connection was made. While we were watching the zebra, a message came over the radio that sounded like Fred and I thought I picked up my name being used but wasn’t sure. Dinamosi looked over his shoulder at me and smiled and I noticed Isaac was looking back from his front seat and smiling as well as the engine started and we pulled away. There were several more communications of which I couldn’t decipher but 19
soon we came out from between a row of trees to see Fred’s truck surrounded by three massive lions! Two were on a small rise to the right and one on our plane to the left, only a few feet away. Like they were carved of wood, unmoving as we approached, looking right past us, staring towards a large herd of buffalo. I looked over at the other vehicle to see Fred smiling broadly at me, enjoying the wonder on my face as he gave me thumbs up. We came to a stop, Dinamosi turned off the engine and I felt an excitement that made my heart race, pounding out of my chest with delight at the sight of these extraordinary animals. I had anticipated this moment for the better part of a year saying to Debs more than once, “I can’t wait to see a lion in the wild”, and here I was looking into this lions large green eyes, set in black outlined triangular slits upon a battle scarred face surrounded by a feathery orange mane, sitting in a stance with his huge paws out before him as if he was one of the marble statues in front of the New York Public Library. It was nothing less than breathtaking to me. Fred drove over and collected my camera from me so he could provide a shot with us and the lions together which has become one of my prized photos. He later revealed that he used common sense regarding his confidence in seeing the lions and their location. Knowing their relative location because of the roaring he heard the night before, Fred saw the herd of buffalo coming from that general direction and gauged in his mind where he felt they would be this morning. Unlike Watergate where one follows “the money”, when seeking lion, one follows “the food”. All of the animals we had seen to this point, we watched until they disappeared into an area we couldn’t follow or we agreed we had our fill of them and were eager to move on to see something new, until this time when Dinamosi turned the key and the engine started. I was sad… momentarily so to the point of a deep swallow with moist eyes. I’m certain I will never see such a sight again or if I do, it will never affect me to such an extent. I hugged Debs as we pulled away thinking what a fantastic final act to our remarkable adventure. But as we began back towards our camp, I wasn’t to know that there would be a miracle encore to this performance. Jess mentioned she and George would love to see hippos so, with our requests being so fully attended to, anything else would be an additional treat… and what a treat it was. We drove for several minutes until we began to see the trees thinning before us, and through the trees we began to see the edge of a lake, but the water was sloshing frothy waves against the bank. I think I said something clever like the hippos must be playing water polo when we came around the bend to an open view of the lake and three massive elephants playing games with each other in the water. They wrestled, dunked 20
each other, clashed tusks and squirted one another with jets of water from their trunks. One even sat on another, completely submerging it except for its trunk sticking out of the water like a snorkel. Dinamosi bellowed, “Oh man! Do you believe this! This is amazing!” Truer words were never roared as we laughed watching them frolicking in their comedic pachyderm performance. All the while the hippos that permanently inhabit this water hole watched them and us with nervously twitching ears and grunts of displeasure. The cavorting continued for some time until they all suddenly tired of it and trudged to the side and shook like giant dogs to remove the excess water, their heads pivoting side to side, trunks poking out straight for balance and ears making slapping sounds like wet towels on the side of a moving van. Then like all of our animal acquaintances, they vanished into the jungle. The hippos seemed pleased to have their water hole back and we watched them… waiting for them to play games as well, but they simply did what hippos do which was almost anticlimactic. Jaded. If I was golfing and a hippo emerged from a water trap on the 17th hole, it would be the most amazing experience of all time. But after watching the elephant show, twittering ears just didn’t have the same impact. It’s like a comedian coming on after Seinfeld… it is all about timing. We left the water hole slowly so we wouldn’t run over a rasp of Guinea Fowl pitter-pattering up the road before us. They would normally scatter to safety when we came near, but this lot was very secure that we would be tolerant of them to the point of being arrogant! Finally they scooted off into the greenery and we advanced onward at a more rapid clip. Soon Isaac had his hand up again signaling to stop so he could inspect prints in the pink soil of the road ahead. He swiveled to his left and pointed towards the top of the trees to where peeking through the high trees was a lovely giraffe. Too dense for us to follow, we sat and watched it (too far away to identify male or female) tear shreds of foliage from the treetops and chew it to pulp in its proportionally small jaws while all the time keeping an eye on us, the noticeable difference between predator and prey. I learned several interesting yet abhorrent facts about giraffes from Dinamosi. It seems a giraffe’s neck is not long enough to reach the ground so they must perform the splits and spread their front legs widely to achieve a drink of water. This action puts them in a very precarious position making it defenseless against a predator attack. They 21
have massive hearts to push blood to their brains with special valves that don’t allow rushes when their heads go down. A giraffe can go long periods without drinking water, gaining much of the liquid it requires from the vegetation it eats. As a result… a giraffe’s urine is the consistency of honey and males taste it before they mate to determine if their union has a good opportunity to conceive. Certainly more giraffe info than I wanted to learn but since I became the recipient of this knowledge I thought I would provide it to you, so you can gag as well. We pushed on in the home stretch that now we recognized as nearing the lodge. It began to sink in that this portion of our African adventure was coming to an end and we will probably never see this area or these people again. Every impala and bird that flew by became important. Clutching to the final moments ended in a sigh as we pulled into the drive to once again see Poppy’s big smile and tray of wash cloths. After finishing our packing, we met everyone for breakfast as the sun began to burn through the last remnants of the thin layer of fog and blue began to win the war over the grey. Another wonderful meal of omelet, lox and capers rounded off a perfect record of amazingly diverse meals that I loved every morsel I ate. Truly, every dish they served was expertly created, served as a piece of art and regardless of ingredients tasted superb. I would recommend going to Dulini Lodge for nothing more than the fare, however, as I have written, there is so much more! Our driver arrived, a stout man named John with a thick neck and a thick Afrikaans accent to match. The bags were loaded and all that was left were the goodbyes. I’m pleased we still had a large portion of our trip in front of us as I’m certain it would have been a much more mournful goodbye if we were leaving directly for home. There were hugs, heartfelt expressions of thankfulness and envelopes containing well deserved rewards for the care they supplied to us like nowhere we have ever vacationed. Dinamosi and Isaac gave heartfelt appreciation and commented they would miss the laughs we had on our safaris. Then came a special moment as Maurice approached and gripped my hand warmly, looked into my eyes and gave me the most sincere thank you I have ever received. Debs received a similar expression of gratitude combined with a warm hug and best wishes for the remainder of our journey. John drove us toward the gate and the drive resembled a box of animal crackers with sightings of assorted animals all along the way giving us a fabulous farewell. I looked back as we exited the gates of Kruger National Park, soon got onto pavement for the first time in what seemed like weeks and felt sad that we were turning the page on this chapter, but very satisfied with our wonderful experience.
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I would go on to peer over a 3,500 foot precipice above Cape Town, ride an ostrich,
swim with great white sharks, see the Atlantic & Indian oceans combine, watch whales leap from the ocean,
drink amazing wines in vineyards surrounded by colossal granite cliffs, see perfect waves on perfect beaches, witness ridiculously beautiful sunsets as well as other
wonderful sights, but this portion of our African adventure I have shared with you in my writings will be etched in a very special place in my mind eternally. William L. Pottorff 2013
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