Circles in the Bush

(With apologies to Dalene Matthee…)

Machampane Wilderness Camp shares the western bank of the Machampane River with tall fever trees at a pool called Xisivene – which apparently means “deep pool”.

The wilderness trail experience that runs out of the camp is similarly structured to the iconic trails that operate in the Kruger National Park across the border. Machampane’s accommodation is a tad more luxurious though – large walk-in tents on stilts with en suite bathrooms.

or download the Google Earth track of Machampane wilderness trails.

As in Kruger, a day typically starts with tea or coffee at the crack of dawn, followed by a 3 to 5 hour wilderness walk in the surrounding bush. Upon your return to camp, tuck into a wholesome brunch, and then spend the rest of the afternoon relaxing on your tent’s deck watching the Pied Kingfisher launch numerous dive attacks on the fish in Xisivene, or read, or snooze…

After tea, set out on another 3-hour walk and return to a warm shower and good company around the “bush TV” – the fire pit – followed by dinner. By the second day you will have succumbed to the rhythm of the bush and forgotten about civilisation. The fact that Machampane is remote and there are no telephones nor internet simply helps the process.

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The wilderness walks radiate out from the camp in large circles (see the tracks on Google Earth). There’s a fair amount of water around Machampane and the surrounding country varies from mopane woodland on Lebombo rhyolite to sandveld which supports taller mopane.

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The trail is about reconnecting with nature, observing and existing within the web of life. As I have often written, wilderness trails are not about viewing big game. Having said that though, we did see elephant, lion, civet, honeybadger, lots of impala, zebra, wildebeest, spotted hyena, crocodiles and the area’s solitary hippo – Bob – while on foot.

The Machampane concession comprises a large wilderness area that borders Kruger Park to the west and extends down to Lake Massangir on the Olifants River. A fence still separates Limpopo, which was until fairly recently a hunting concession, and Kruger and over the last few years relocated wildlife have been released into a sanctuary area here, the fences of which are still visible south of the camp. Near the lake, but within the park, local Shangaan eke out a subsistence living on the land. Apparently the people will be relocated at some future stage.

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Related posts:

1. Nyalaland Wilderness Trail
2. Napi Wilderness Trail
3. Sweni Wilderness Trail

Ghosts

Tsavo. A place of ghosts. The ghosts of thousands of elephant, harvested for the ivory trade for centuries. The tens of thousands lost in the poaching wars of the ’70s and ’80s (Tsavo means “slaughter”). The ghosts of the rangers who hunted the poachers. The ghosts of the Waliangulu who once stalked the giants with powerful bows, stealth and unequalled knowledge of Tsavo’s dry, thorn woodland. The ghosts of the Orama, their burial mounds marking their custodianship of the plains.

The ghosts of the colonial engineers who pushed the cold steel of empire across the arid coastal plains to the Great Rift Valley. And the ghosts of the Indian “coolies” who laboured under East Africa’s vast sky to lay the sleepers, clasp the rails, cut and place the stone of the rail bridge that still crosses the Tsavo River. And were preyed upon by the legendary Man-eaters of Tsavo. The ghosts of those two massive, maneless lions whose survival strategy drew a brutal, typically human response. The ghosts of the British and colonial soldiers who built the First World War forts above the Tsavo, and the askaris and their German officers with whom they clashed. The ghosts of the Blixens and Finch-Hatton, the traces of the latter’s landing strip and hunting camp still evident south of the Galana.

The ghosts of Tsavo East National Park’s legendary wardens, Sheldrick and Woodley, larger than life, their marks on the land and their wildlife legacy still in evidence. The ghosts of the black rhino, their numbers, until the ’60s still in the thousands, decimated so that only a handful survive under armed guard. The ultimate irony is possibly Tsavo’s iron gates that proudly frame the rhinos’ metal silhouettes, their horns, both their pride and weakness, raised defiantly.

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But the red elephant still roam, their numbers are steadily increasing. The Tsavo and Galana, timeless and wild, still roll red to the Swahili coast and the Guardian of the Plains, Epiya Chapeyu, still gazes benignly from the Yatta escarpment across the dry, red expanses. The maneless lions still watch the herds of zebra and buffalo and skittish groups of Peters gazelle, gerenuk and oryx from the saltbush. The Bush breathes, but with quiet breaths, cautious and hesitant lest it again attracts the not-so-tender attention of Man.

That’s what Tsavo’s wilderness felt like for me.

On foot, the pulse of Africa comes through your boot. You are an animal among others, chary of the shadowed places, of sudden quiet in the air.
Peter Matthiesen, The Tree Where Man Was Born, 1972

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Elephant wilderness

Night falls suddenly in Tsavo, so close to the equator. I remember lying in my tent listening to the night, but I was almost always struck by the silence. Only once, at Durusirkale, the quiet was shattered by an elephant rumble – close. It sounded right on top of me. Then one trumpeted. Nobody believed me in the morning. My tent was at the end of the line of tents under the Doum palms and Tana poplars. The next day I wandered about thirty metres away and found their prints in the river sand. They must have come down to the Galana for their regular drink and been surprised to find tents and human scent, as the camp had only been erected that day after the six-month off season.

The elephants are nervous. They react in two ways upon sensing humans: a charge or, more often than not, headlong flight. On the one hand it is sad to see, but on the other their behaviour ensures their survival. Iain and his trackers were impressive in the way they were sensitive to the elephants’ trauma. They always gave an animal a route of escape. They never approached too closely on foot. On game drives, Iain always made sure to stay well clear, not to cross their path and to leave as soon as he sensed any agitation. He even ensured that they would not catch our scent, except for the shortest possible time if unavoidable.

Tsavo is a wilderness. It is wild. As a South African who is used to a lot of people and vehicles in a national park, roads, fences and gates, Tsavo contains almost no tourism development or infrastructure. Most campsites and lodges are located outside its borders and human presence in the form of tourists is negligible, although that may have something to do with the time of year that I was there. The park’s extensive borders are unfenced, allowing on the upside, better functioning of the ecosystem in the form of wildlife migration, but on the downside, uncontrolled access and probably poaching. While national parks should primarily be about conserving biodiversity, Tsavo’s tourism potential is underdeveloped and that could be a future problem as reserves and parks are increasingly required to “pay their way” in the face of growing human populations.

The park is arid. Its plains toward the coast were known to early travellers as the Taru Desert, a frightening barrier to penetration of the interior. Joseph Thomson described the Taru as a “skeleton forest” and “weird and ghastly”. In effect, the Galana and Tsavo rivers form a thin and tenuous ribbon of life through a sprawling dryland. Perhaps this is where the paradox of Tsavo has its origin: there are (almost) no humans, but the effects of humans on the ecosystem and the landscape are so marked, concentrated as they are along these rivers.

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River crossings and camel fillet

Crossing the rivers became a daily routine on the Great Walk. The Tsavo is a fast-flowing, ochre-coloured “ditch” that courses through thick vegetation, while the Galana is more of an “African river” to my mind: wide, meandering, sandy, fringed with palms. After the first two days of walking, during which we had observed plenty of nervous hippos and some crocodiles, we were pretty surprised to find ourselves on the opposite side of the Tsavo from our camp below Kichwe Tembo (“elephant’s head”). Iain’s advice before we gingerly entered the water was to “stay close together so you look like an elephant”. Right. But gradually, we became rather blasè about wading waist-deep through the rivers….

That is, until the last five metres of the last crossing of the Galana on the last day of the Great Walk. First Lojori – or was it Washii? – one of the little Samburu trackers disappeared underwater but metres short of the far bank. Even the tallest among us were up to our chests in a powerful current that flowed hard up against a submerged rock ledge. The eventual cost was two destroyed cameras, a waterlogged binoculars, its bag last seen heading for the coast, some painful shins and the plastic bag of camel kidneys.

Yes, camel kidneys. On the same last day, having already had three lion sightings that morning, we stumbled into a very surprised lion. It was surprised because it had brought down a strange creature – a camel – and was feeding on it when we humans chased it (by accident) off its kill. Lions may be chased off a kill by hyenas but not often by people on foot. The camel must have blundered into the park from the neighbouring ranch. The Samburu are familiar with camels and apparently parts of them are something of a delicacy, so they quickly set to work removing the fillet under the hump, fashioning the skin into a sort of “handbag”, and then they decided that the kidneys couldn’t be wasted on a lion either. Well, an equally surprised crocodile must have benefited further down the Galana/Sabaki.

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The Lunatic Express

Tsavo station is a little surreal. And not only because a railway station is not usually on a walking safari itinerary. It is a step back into a Victorian-era railway – this one was once known as the Lunatic Express – replete with 19th century mechanical signalling and token working (I was once a signals engineer on the South Africa Railways, hence the interest). Touring through the old station building that houses the signalman’s office is like stepping into a previous century. I swear that the books and manuals high on a dusty shelf are just as the last colonial station master left them. The current signalman informed me that his new boss is a South African – a South African corporation has taken over management of the line apparently. We seem to be the new colonials in Africa…

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More: Clarissa Hughes’ Great Walk photos |Clarissa’s account on ecoAfrica’s blog

Related posts:

1. Patagonia Treks in Google Earth
2. The thing about African wilderness trails
3. Machampane Wilderness Trail

Sweni trails camp gate

The Sweni is one of the most sought-after wilderness trails in Kruger, primarily because of the likelihood of running into the Sweni lions. According to James, the trails ranger, Sweni has the highest concentration of lion per sq km in Africa (i.e. the world). So when I got the chance to book all 8 beds, I took it – and took my whole family and some of my in-laws. FAQ

We renewed acquaintances with old trail friends: James Steyn (with whom we walked the Napi), Kallie Ubisi (formerly of Wolhuter), and James Mathebula (who cooked on Wolhuter). The next morning we tried to track the lions we had been hearing since 3am. We got very close, hearing the calls and growls of at least 2 groups, to left and right, as we snaked into the misty savannah. But the mist defeated us as we followed their fresh spoor, stretching away from us to the south. Snacks on Bravo Koppie.

The ultimate afternoon walk! A pride of lions finishing off the last of last night’s giraffe kill, took flight as we approached on foot. The females are massive cats. Vultures and about 8 jackals descended on the skeleton, picking it clean in efficient silence. Behind us about 8 hyaena loped tentatively closer, sniffing the breeze. They would approach the carcass passing within metres of us and ignoring us as if we weren’t

Sweni walk at sunrise in the mist

there, then would back off as they smelled the pride disappearing rapidly upwind. Then they finally moved in, each one claiming a portion of skeleton: a backbone here, a femur there; two spent time dismantling the ribcage. All this in absolute silence while we watched from about 75 m away. Vultures, jackals and hyaena operating as a team of sanitation workers – no fuss, no wasted effort. “This is what makes Sweni special”, whispered James, referring to the rare opportunity to watch lions on a kill while on foot. As we left scene the riverine bush was alive with nervous wildlife.

On the Louis Trichardt road one evening a young female elephant charged us as we drove to the cliffs for sundowners. Accompanied by two other young females and a baby, she kept coming as we managed to get the vehicle past her. The others and the baby joined in, chasing us up the road with much trumpeting and bravado. The funny part was the baby’s eventual enthusiastic participation in the rout, trunk and tail extended for and aft, and its shrill, adolescent trumpeting. But that mommy elly meant business….

Related posts:

1. Ralph’s Wilderness Trail FAQ
2. Metsi-Metsi Wilderness Trail
3. Napi Wilderness Trail

Metsi-Metsi trails camp – it apparently means “water water” in Sotho – is located 6 km from the Mozambique border in rhyolite bushveld on the eastern aspect of N’wamuriwa mountain.

Day 1: Led by Rudi & Abel, the rangers, this day started with a

sunset at Silolweni

leisurely 8km ramble across the ridges south-east of the camp. The weather was pleasantly warm with the touch of a cool breeze. We enjoyed breakfast on the N’waswitsontso River. Our path crossed a loping herd of giraffe, including three juveniles, at fairly close range. Our group, all women except for me and the rangers, is easy-going and good company. No testosterone in sight – “rustig”. A quaint Metsi-Metsi initiation ritual involved spitting impala dung pellets across a line drawn in the sand by the ranger. If someone had suggested that I would put dung of any description in my mouth, I would have called them “bossies” – but I did…

Ernest, the camp cook, had prepared an excellent lunch back in camp – scrambled eggs, toast, baked beans, sweet corn, bacon, mashed potato. Of course with few males in camp there’s plenty to go around.
That afternoon the walk on western side of N’wamuriwa along the Nwaswitsontso River was memorable. We played hide-and-seek in the riverbed with herds of kudu ewes, giraffe and two bull elephants. Sundowners at Silolweni dam followed, where we were serenaded by pods of hippo, about 15 of whom were within 20m of us, and whose supper had been delayed by our presence.

Day 2: What a morning walk! We drove north to the northern reaches of the Metsi-Metsi near Lindinda Dam, and set off into a breezy north-easter. First we happened upon a breeding herd of elephant, then a lone white rhino cow who was aware of our presence but was caught between curiosity and fear,

Metsi-Metsi hut

and then – a first for me – a black rhino! We got to within 100m of it and took care to stay downwind. It was unaware of us, which is just as well as these animals don’t keep their distance once they’ve rumbled you.

Thinking that we had been especially blessed, we then spotted that rarest of cats, a cheetah, about 150m off to our left in the shade of a tree. It got to its feet and strolled parallel to our path and melted into the bush. Seeing cheetah (there are only about 200 in the 19000ha of Kruger) is rare, but meeting one while on foot is truly unusual. This event took place within tens of metres of the Wolhuter memorial, where the legendary Harry Wolhuter survived a lion attack, killing it with his knife while it was dragging him off.

One tends to focus on the big mammals, but in between we had been introduced to bag-worm nests, the uses of the magic gwarri tree, lizard eggs, the spongy praying mantis nest, the climate control and fungus gardens of the termite mound, and

Evening walk at Orpen dam

much more. My fifth wilderness trail has only served to confirm that these trails are the only way to truly experience the bush.

Wilderness Trail FAQ

Related posts:

1. Sweni Wilderness Trail
2. Ralph’s Wilderness Trail FAQ
3. Wolhuter Wilderness Trail

Once again Marion and I were privileged to participate in a wilderness trail (FAQ), this time the Napi Trail midway between Pretoriuskop and Skukuza. Napi was the newest of Kruger’s seven wilderness trails and its location at the confluence of the Napi and Mbiyamiti rivers was surely one of the most spectacular of all trails camps (unfortunately the camp was recently destroyed by fire). Perched high up on the bank of the Napi under rich riverine forest, the camp commanded wonderful views of the rivers. Our hut clung precariously, it seemed, to the sand cliff that had been undermined by last year’s floods. Steady rain on our last night in camp made the Napi gurgle far below our veranda, but the hut anchors were secure.

The undulating woodlands were green and luxuriant after the summer rains, and the grass long, making game sightings difficult. But as any trail junky will tell you, game viewing is not the purpose of the wilderness trail – it’s only a bonus. Just prior to the trail we had a stayed at a game lodge in a neighbouring reserve where seeing the Big Five is what is promised, and is consequently, what the guests have come to expect. And although we had wonderful leopard and lion sightings at the game lodge, it was somehow less satisfying than walking in wild bushveld, seeing fresh lion tracks, hearing them in the distance, knowing that they were probably watching us from the cover of long grass. On foot one confronts your own insignificance, your own vulnerability.

Besides the many white rhino we saw, we did see one significant antelope: the Liechtenstein’s hartebeest. Locally extinct for decades, some were recently re-introduced from Malawi. This one was limping and separated from the herd, his days numbered.

Once again I had the opportunity to polish my knowledge of bushveld trees, add the buffalo thorn to the list as well as the Zulu story about it being “the tree of life”, learn about sodic sites and how they form, etc., thanks to the knowledge of our trails rangers.

Long may Kruger’s wilderness trails renew our bonds with Nature.

(Note: this camp has since burnt down and is located elsewhere now)

Related posts:

1. Nyalaland Wilderness Trail
2. Sweni Wilderness Trail
3. Machampane Wilderness Trail

The “wilderness trail” is a concept unique to Africa in that it has evolved to imply a walk in the company of a game ranger or conservation officer, usually armed, through big game country. Aspects of the ecology of the area, environmental management and ethics are also explained and the emphasis is often on environmental education. FAQ

The Wolhuter Wilderness Trail is the oldest in the park, established in 1978 in the area frequented by the legendary rangers, Harry and Henry Wolhuter. The trail camp lies about 10 km north-west of Berg-en-dal restcamp, in the transition zone between the mixed bushwillow woodlands and the Malelane mountain bushveld – white rhino country.  And did we bump into a few of them…

Jan and San rock art

On the rough drive to the camp on the Wednesday evening, we spotted lion, an elephant bull in musth and two white rhino, all at very close range. It seems that because no humans had been on these roads since the rains and floods, the animals had reclaimed the area. Ours was the only trail running in the park, and the first since the floods, thanks to the passion and determination of our trail ranger, Jan Erasmus. He was worried because heavy cloud predominated, and the last group had to be lifted out by helicopter as the waters flowed through the camp.  The bosses were going to have none of that again.

Thursday 2 March
Usually the morning walk commences before sunrise, but drizzle and distant thunder delayed our departure. The grass was long and wet and the bush more luxuriant than I had ever seen it. We wound up a granite koppie to perch on an outcrop for a light breakfast. From there the panorama of the bushveld and granite hills spread out below us. In the distance we spotted a herd of buffalo, black shapes amongst the trees of riverine forest. Later we would be surprised at all the animals we couldn’t spot from there, despite powerful binoculars. This area has one leopard to every 3 square km’s, the highest concentration in the park. Needless to say, we never saw one.

Marion and the hut

On the way down Jan showed us a cave adorned with clear San rock paintings, said to be two millennia old. We then set off to the north-east in order to intercept the buffalo. As we approached a stream, we heard a white rhino greeting behind us. Jan did the recce and then took us two-by-two to view a large, dominant bull wallowing in a pan, some 50m distant. Great care was taken about this, because their bad eyesight, but sharp hearing and sense of smell, makes them curious and bedonderd.

Wading the stream we blundered into a menagerie of zebra, blue wildebeest and impala, plus one more rhino, who trundled off at our approach. Jan was testing the wind by squirting ash from a small bottle, while Kally Ubisi, his Shangaan assistant scanned the bush with his incomparable vision. Later it became clear, however, that sign, smell, sound and interpretation of animal behaviour – and the hairs on the back of one’s neck I reckon – are more useful senses to the rangers – you have to become one with the bush.

The rangers were impressive, and their professionalism was best illustrated when we exited a stream, and Jan and Kally both suddenly swung their rifles to the right, and cocked, in perfect sync and in one fluid motion. Most of us hadn’t even heard the rustle of undergrowth, but it was a buffalo dagga bull, luckily crossing in the other direction. Exciting times.

But there was so much else to learn about the flora, the micro-fauna such as spiders and frogs, etc., etc., but my poor engineer’s brain couldn’t take it all in, let alone remember. Jan’s scientific and ecological knowledge is impressive to a layperson like me. Additionally, Sean and Carol, two other members of the group, are undergoing field guide training in their spare time, so they added to the mix. Carol’ s particular interest is grasses, Sean’s birds.  “Wonderful!” enthused Elske, our German fellow traveller, on return to camp. It was.

Walking on the Mlambane

After James (Mathebula), the cook’s, tasty brunch and the usual siesta in the humid heat, we set out on a mission to stalk that herd of buffalo. We could hear them to our right, but our path was blocked by a phalanx of white rhino, it seemed. They appeared to be everywhere. Being downwind of them, one approached to within 20m of our position, strategically situated behind boulders and trees. Eventually, Jan had to indulge in a bit of arm-waving to persuade it to move off.

We had just crossed a stream separating us from the herd,  and clambered out of the sandy ditch when we heard it stampede. With the ditch behind us, the unseen herd in front, fear rapidly rose in one’s throat as we all strained to determine the direction of movement. Being caught down-gallop and downwind of a herd of buffalo is not the preferred place to be. Luckily they thundered across our path about 100m distant. We tracked them for while, parallel to their path, always in visual contact now, but decided not to follow them into thick bush. We could only guess at what had spooked them. “Lion” surmised Jan.

Friday 3 March
Dawn found us on the banks of the Mlambane River (“the hungry river” according to Jan and Kally), contemplating

Literally walking in the Mlambane

the gap where the low-level bridge had been. Jan had been telling us the previous evening about how he loved to follow rivers, and the decision had been made. We would spend the morning on its banks, following its course east into the rising sun. I doubt whether we realised at that stage that we would be spending a lot of time in it.  African rivers contain bilharzia, crocs and all manner of nasties, don’t they?

But this river was flowing swiftly, 50-75m wide, as pristine as it has ever been, according to Jan, because the floods had flushed it and it rose in the uninhabited Malelane mountains within the park borders. Nowhere was it more than knee-deep, mostly ankle-deep, with a sandy, gravely bottom. Its banks are lined with luxuriant riverine forest of jackalberry and massive figs, amongst other species I’d like to master.

We crossed and recrossed it, spotted two black rhino up on the bank, and came within a couple of metres of a young female bushbuck, frozen with curiosity. “Have you ever seen a buck frown before?” asked Jan. It had obviously never encountered humans before.

Where are the crocs?

But the real wonder of this day was the sense of wilderness: no humans for miles, the virgin banks scoured by the floods, only the footprints of animals, the only sounds those of the river, birds and insects.

The glare from the white sand made walking hot work, so we regularly lay in the stream, or bumslid down small rapids. Have you ever lay in a wild African river, contemplating the big sky,  a fish eagle, a leaf accelerating down a small rapid? I have.

Related posts:

1. Napi Wilderness Trail
2. Metsi-Metsi Wilderness Trail
3. Nyalaland Wilderness Trail

The Nyalaland was our first Kruger wilderness trail (FAQ). It’s one of the less popular trails in Kruger, but it has a special place in our hearts. Some low-res photos follow…

Related posts:

1. Napi Wilderness Trail
2. Sweni Wilderness Trail
3. Machampane Wilderness Trail