REMINISCENCES: Sojourn in the Mountain-Lands of Kruger

In a previous blog, I mentioned and explained my devotion to the central and northern regions of the Kruger National Park, South Africa. I also pointed out several reasons why I had neglected the southern sections of this magnificent park during the past decades. Yet, following a very brief trip to the southwestern region of Kruger in early 2017, I had vowed to return before long to the previously shunned expanses of the park.

So, towards the end of 2018, Jacqui and I set off to spend a week at Berg-en-Dal Camp. This camp had been built in Kruger long after my childhood. It also featured a different style of architecture of the buildings, a shape and layout that was very different from the quaint rondavel circles of the older camps. Several other factors that impinge significantly on my enjoyment of the wilderness and any chances of snatching good photographs had kept me away from Berg-en-Dal previously.

I spent quite a while mulling over the pros and cons of such a visit, before I finally resolved to stay over at Berg-en-Dal for a week. The camp is stationed very close to the entrance gate into Kruger at Malelane, which itself is very close to countless ‘safari lodges’ (without game!) crowded along the southern border of the park. Moreover, Malelane Gate is only a short drive away from the bustling city of Mbombela. This combination of circumstances ensures that throughout the day all the roads in the immediate vicinity of Berg-en-Dal carry heavy traffic – trucks carting supplies to the park’s southern camps, buses conveying staff into and out of the park, and day-visitors who are eager to traverse the greatest distance possible in limited time. Of course, my nemesis, the presence of countless safari lodge jeep-jocks and their noisy guests required exacting consideration.*

Besides, the location of Berg-en-Dal Camp at the edge of the Malelane Mountain-land restricts the choice of any visitor (leaving the camp or returning to it) to a single decision – whether to turn left or to turn right at the camp’s entrance gate. Therefore, traffic close to camp is concentrated and increased dramatically in the earliest and latest hours of the day – precisely the time that is ideal for photography.

Despite grave reservations, I decided that I could not delay the opportunity to explore the hills and kopjes in this part of Kruger. For too long, I had abandoned the scenery, the many distinctive species of plants that grow in this region and an enjoyment of a different part of the Kruger National Park.

Inevitably, I had packed some rain amongst our camping equipment – luckily, this time, a few mornings and afternoons remained clear enough for some splendid play of light and shadow. Notwithstanding the crowds and the rain, we enjoyed a most wonderful trip. Our luck with photogenic sightings was astonishing – no doubt, the presence of my lucky game-spotting charm bolstered our luck; my youngest sister, Bärbel, joined us on this trip. Each day confronted us with exceptional sightings of game and photographic opportunities. Our short trip was so packed with excitement that we even forgave the camp’s resident baboon troop after it had ripped through (not opened) our tents – one side wall of our two, small tents each were aerated by metre-long tears, despite us storing all food safely inside our locked vehicle, day and night.

The roads through the mountain-lands were fabulous. The numerous densely-vegetated gullies between smaller hills, the narrow expanses of flat land bordered by the boulder-strewn slopes of some kopjes across which the roads threaded their way, and the many views of majestic hills and a few mountains enthralled us. Each drive along these steeper, winding sand roads provided large herds of buffalo and elephant. The recent decline of the lion population in the southern section of the park meant that we could not travel without lurching into leopards along the bases of kopjes and along the many smaller rivers and vleis on the flatter plains around Berg-en-Dal.

The assortment of stunning sightings of game in the picturesque landscape that surrounds Berg-en-Dal kept me quickened and very busy every day. Animals, plants and the landscape enveloped me. For once, I trundled across several photographic opportunities that I could work earnestly to capture in images at least a few impressions of this splendid environment. I even managed to spend twenty minutes or so in the company of a young honeybadger that was busy excavating a large dung-pile for juicy beetle grubs.

A hefty storm that showered Berg-en-Dal for an hour one night, caused runoff from the slopes of the hills to start flowing down smaller gullies and rivers. From a bridge, we spotted a huge crocodile fishing below the low wall of an overflowing weir. Regularly, Sharp-tooth Catfish and minute Barbs attempted to leap up the rushing water to get over the river blockage to a fast-filling pool upstream of the weir.

At very early dawn and late dusk, Lesser Galagos (bushbabies) vaulted through the vegetation, tree-to-bush, bush-to-tree, past our camping spot to entertain us daily. At dawn on the morning of our last full day in the park, I spotted an adult bushbaby perched on a sturdy branch of an old dead tree. This parent was calling softly to a youngster that was still hiding in a very dense shrub. I backed off and waited patiently at some distance until I had seen both bushbabies entering a hollow of the dead tree. That evening we returned to camp slightly earlier than usual – I desperately wished to photograph these mini-humans as they left their hollow tree trunk to forage the night away out in the dark bushveld. I managed to snap only a single exposure.

I remain convinced that I will not be able to put up with the traffic and the crowds of the southern Kruger for an extended time. Yet, I have decided that the areas and camps that I have avoided for so long must be included from now on, albeit only for short visits.


*   Perhaps I need to explain why I loathe much (not all) of the so-called safari and purported conservation ‘industry’ in South Africa. The most significant source of my boundless detestation of this ‘industry’ is the unacceptable attitude of the majority of citizens – South Africans are renowned for exploitation of the wilderness. If money is to be made, all thoughts and considerations of conservation and ethics evaporate. There are countless examples that populate a list that is too long to discuss here in its entirety. Well documented examples include: the illegal import and export of rare and endangered species (animals and plants), the deliberate breeding of colour morphs of various species (primarily antelope) for hunting clients (individuals whose egos have become satiated by the slaughter of the available ‘common’ game, so that they now covet a unique, special victim), canned lion hunting, many other questionable hunting ethics (such as allowing clients to shoot game at waterholes or salt licks, the use of hides or vehicles from which to blast forth), ad infinitum.
 
One of the less offensive, yet equally questionable practices involves the concept of game and safari lodges and reserves. There are laudable proprietors who are indeed sincerely concerned and immersed in efforts of conservation of the total environment. However, the majority of ‘reserves’, ‘parks’, ‘zoos’, ‘lodges’ are frankly money-generating endeavours in a country that believes generally that ‘ecotourism’ is a valuable, honourable and necessary facet of the economy. This is an ‘industry’ that does not add value to a product of human intellect, discovery, manufacture and labour – rather, this industry simply affixes a spurious price tag to the rapacious exploitation (most often detrimental) of the environment and its inhabitants. There is simply no understanding that the wilderness has existed for millennia, without human assistance, despite ceaseless abuse by humanity. The wilderness exists; it is not a product of human ingenuity, skill or exertion. The smidgeon of wilderness that remains must continue to exist – to ensure that the planet remains habitable for a sizeable fraction of the biosphere (including humans), not for trade by a single, self-elected, self-aggrandising, renegade pest species.
 
The ‘safaris’ on offer usually do not provide an experience of wilderness; nor do they provide for an adequate understanding of the necessity of conservation. Rather, they are glorified, glamourized and pared down rattles through the ‘wilds’, hollow attempts at completing a tick list of game sightings, not filled out by a slow, deliberate and untiring search of the environment, but by travelling at the highest speed possible from one incident to the next, following the instructions of a radio operator. This is not game-spotting; this is not an experience of wildlife and the wild. Worse still, the running commentary provided by ‘expert guides’ in the majority of cases is based entirely on providing info-bites enclosing a certain wow-factor, using outdated and faded information, much of it false.
 
There! I shall stop now.