So many people we had met on our path around South Africa had raved about Kruger Park. With rhinos in abundance and chances of lions and wild dogs it had already sounded tempting, but when I had managed to find a camper van for a fabulous rate, it was too good to resist. Ten days of hippy style camper-vanning around Kruger Park, hitting Blyde River along the way. Then on to Sodwana Bay for crystal clear coral diving and finally to St.Lucia for hippo spotting.
The day we picked up our camper van was a day of many emotions. First emotion was upset because we had to say our final farewells to our little cupcake car that had been such a wonderful companion. Next, we went to pick up our van from a company called "Wicked Campers." We found it in a muddy field that looked more like a cemetery for Japanese people carriers. Not very wicked....
The dishevelled vehicles were a mixture of hideous neon colours, with odd and often unimaginable graffiti. The insides were a DIY job of plywood and screws. We had hoped our budget option would be something a little more demur but as it was rolled out into the puddly middle it was worse than anything we had seen. Bright pink and purple with one side sporting a robot saying Daft Punk, the other had a punk vomiting putrid orange sick. The cherry on our hideous cake was that the back said "punk p***y tastes best". As I stood, mouth agape, staring at these hideous words, I wasn't sure whether I had a poor sense of humour or I was a prude, or if in fact it was outrageous! Simon laughed and said to see the funny side.
We drove out of Johannesburg in silence. The next sentence uttered was mine. "Please can we cut up the wine box and use it to cover the back?" It was only later when entering a camp site in Blyde River where a retired couple made a comment at how crass the van was and how she hadn't realised it was a rental that Simon finally conceded that perhaps it was giving the wrong impression.
Public humiliation aside, the road to Blyde River was incredible. A friendly, rotund police officer pulled us over after watching us make several u-turns and generously found our route on his GPS, reiterated directions, asked us a bit about ourselves then shook us by the hand. The hills and dales of the area probably meant it was a dull beat, so a lost, bright pink vehicle was the highlight of his day!
We stopped off at a town called Sabie for some guidance in the tourist information centre. Two old codgers sat behind the desk eager to help. We had hoped a camper van would be budget friendly, but it seemed the area was actually a little steep for camping charges. There was a lot of peering over glasses, tsk-ing, calling campsites, giving the dirt on the cheaper sites and why not to stay. Finally we settled for the next town of Graskop. All booked we headed back to the horror-van. Nothing. No noise, no turn over. Nada. The van had died. Part of me hoped that it would mean we could have it towed back but right now we were in the middle of nowhere without transport. The situation was certainly not helping the already somber mood caused by my absolute embarrassment at each and every stare on horrified drivers faces. Time to call Wicked Campers! No phone number. We needed to get online for that. As Simon stomped to a DIY shop in the dim hope it was the batteries for the immobiliser fob, I stomped up a hill to the internet cafe. Closed. As I stomped back into town to another cafe, I saw Simon stomping back to the van along with an older gentleman holding a screwdriver. Number obtained, call made, distress vented. The lovely and calm Rob said he would call back in a moment when he had 'had a think'. In the mean time could we check the van's battery.
I stomped back to the van - immobiliser fob it wasn't! I passed on the message and when Simon popped the lid, who would have thought but both the connectors on the battery had jumped off! Who would have loosened them we wondered...?!
Relieved to be on our way we headed off. Not before setting the alarm off first. The performance needed to start the car was over-kill. Turn it one degree clockwise, push a button on he dash, start it up and push another button hidden under the steering wheel, don't lock the doors or open the windows and if it's all done correctly hopefully the engine won't cut out. All that was missing was a sacrificial goat. Why anyone would WANT to steal it is one question. The next is; even if someone did steal it, how long before it could be traced through spotting the ugly beast!
Anyway, at this point we assumed it was our fault that the alarm was blaring and Sabie was staring. After a painful minute we were on our way... or were we?! Ten minutes later at the next garage the alarm went off again! The automatic shut down meant the engine was disarmed and we coasted to a standstill. The performance of button pushes and key turns was repeated and despite the tension and apprehension we made it to the campsite. At reception the alarm went off. Getting back in, the alarm went off. We drove to our spot and tried to position our puking punk in the least conspicuous place, however our neighbours Vernon and Bev still had a perfect view of the rear 'gem.'
Vernon and Bev are through and through South Africans. They were spending a few months exploring their incredible country and as such had every camping gadget and gizmo going. From satellite dishes, dining areas, lounge areas, study areas to wine coolers and wardrobes. It made our MDF people carrier look a sham! We had spoons, a water bucket and a broken cup holder.
Bev and Vern, after getting through the initial conversation concerning the eye sore and after we had taped up the inappropriate signage, were most welcoming. Vernon is deaf and was incredible at lip reading. He is loving and kind and instantly made us part of the family. Bev is like a mother-hen; caring, helpful and interested. We both instantly loved them and said yes to their invitation of a braai that evening. On one such delightful evening we were all joined by two other couples of happy campers. As Simon regaled our new friends with tales and anecdotes he managed to tip his plate holding his glutinous tower of a burger straight into his lap, covering himself in a mayonnaise-y oozy mess. Like whippets after a rabbit, three retired ladies ran, hankies in hand, eager to mop up his messy crotch. Simon's expression was one of devastation. I'm not sure if it was because of the loss of a burger masterpiece or the awkward groin mopping...
The evenings we had in Graskop were braai's with Bev and Vern, watching the sunset over a vast gorge that began where our campsite ended. The days were spent exploring the utterly stunning Blyde River Canyon. Like a scene from Lord of the Rings, the canyon dropped away from rich, lush hills into a perfect river with tall peaks, almost like a child's drawing, covered with trees. Areas around the canyon were covered in pine trees grown in perfect symmetry. The rocks had, over millennia, formed strange chimneys and holes looking like giant cheddar. A remarkable area with some remarkable people. Fortunately very forgiving people too as the alarm would spring into song at various and unpredicted times. With limited time though we had to be on the road and this time straight to Kruger Park. We had booked three nights at 2 campsites. All I could think on the way was how relived I was that as we trundled round the vast game reserve the poor sods behind us wouldn't have quite the full eye watering experience thanks to odd-job Harris, a wine box and a roll of parcel tape!
Once registered we started our adventure through the famous Park. It's enormity means there was no way we could do the whole park and as such decided to focus on the southern part. Our first campsite was in the middle. There were strict rules about getting to the camp site on time, 5pm sharp, and so we decided to leave enough time to get there using the longer but paved road route, not the shorter unmade one.
As we drifted slowly, kilometre after kilometre through the park we saw elephants, zebra, hippos lolling in ponds. It's hard, however, at times to not feel like you're in a giant zoo. With tarmac roads, campsites with supermarkets, cafés and souvenirs it took a little edge off the feeling of going into the wild. As we started to wend our way to the campsite we stumbled across our greatest sight. A pride of lions had killed a giraffe and it had fallen on the road! There was a small hoard of cars all edging nearer to see the gory sight of the innards being torn apart. We had a great view and it was difficult to tear ourselves away but eventually we had to, cutting it fine to get to our campsite. We had almost reached our destination when the final bridge to get to the site was covered with signs and bollards!! No way through! It meant a 40 minute backtrack to get on the shorter unmade track. We knew we would be late for curfew. Figuring on 'TIA' philosophy we thought we would be ok. As we pulled into the final driveway we were stopped by a family of hyenas who were happily bundling and playing just yards in front. Even more delay; even though it was a nice one. We arrived at the gate after dark. We got out of the car and no-one came. We asked the nearest campers how to get in only to get a grumpy grunt in response. Our lights still on, another grumpy camper flashed his torch at us to turn off our headlights. We greeted the camp guard with apologies amd explanations to which he said "you are lying, you were looking at lions". I laughed thinking he was joking to which I quickly found out he was not. He let us in and he accused us again of lying and despite our reiteration he told us we could be fined 8000 rand! At this point he was getting shirty with me which in turn got Simon's heckles raised. As Simon tried to get to the point that we were sorry, that we were not looking at lions and could he please show us to our spot, he turned and said "you want a fight? Let me call the ranger and we will fight you". At this point my bottom lip is wavering, Simon is trying to keep calm and the guard is boiling with rage at something we hadn't done!! Finally, the guard called the ranger who spoke to us directly and accepted our explanation. The furious guard, at losing face, refused to show us to our camp spot and another, less grumpy camper showed us where we could park up and where the shower block was. Being someone who avoids confrontation on any level, this was all more than I could bear and with most of the campsite scouring at us, the guard wanting to hit Simon and me accused of being a liar, the minute the engine stopped I burst into sobs! Nothing a braai and a jug of red wine wouldn't fix....
The next day we awoke early and tried to be as discreet as possible so as to avoid any more altercations. Pretty hard with a graffiti covered van with a curious lump of cardboard stuck on it. We were just about to make our dawn get away when the alarm went off again!!!! I burst into tears again, Simon got the damned machine to obey orders and we got out of there, not without a disingenuous smile and wave to the guard on the way.
We were headed south now, although the detour had meant we were dangerously close to running out of fuel. We just managed to coast to another camp where we could refuel. Predictably, the alarm went off, the engine shut down but where as the button pushing regime would solve the errors, this time it kept on going! Very embarrassing and the very last straw for Simon. He managed to start the engine, drive it to the remotest point of the camp and called Rob. It seemed the only way to solve the issue was to rip out the immobiliser system. It took Simon and a screw driver 3 minutes. After all our painful endurance it seemed the immobiliser was actually pretty pointless anyway. The relief was tangible and instantly the mood lightened! A sunny, happy day of rhino, lions, enormous owls, a tortoise, elephants galore ensued! We left a huge contingency to get into our new camp spot. Our approach was different this time. The minute we pulled up we instantly apologised to everyone in eyeshot. We tucked ourselves away behind a bush, and whilst I did laundry, Simon cooked up a storm and life was once again rosy!
We booked a dawn game drive with a safari jeep the next morning. With sleeping rhino just metres away, a rare wild dog sighting, oodles of hyenas it was well worth the early start. We were told by the ranger that the reason for the armed guards in our camp was that a leopard had been spotted inside the gated boundary. We had not seen a leopard yet so whilst it made you a little nervous to walk about it was also pretty exciting. We took a walk by the river and through the fenced forest area where ironically we found a plaque dedicated to a 23 year old ranger who had been eaten by a leopard inside the camp...the universe was giving us a warning so we headed to the safety of the cafe.
Kruger was by no means a disappointment but when day four came we were ready to leave. We packed up and headed out for a very long drive to Sodwana Bay where Simon would once again challenge himself to diving.
Our scruffy campsite at Sodwana was empty which meant no apologies needed, for a change. Once settled under our apple tree, Simon got the fire going whilst I chopped and prep'd for another famous Harris feast. We popped down to the nearest restaurant for amazing bruschetta and a great bottle of red whilst we waited for the coals to burn. Another load of bruschetta and another bottle later we didn't quite fancy the braai so we asked for the loan of 2 wine glasses and headed back for more liquid dinner! A perfect reward for 600 kilometres of road! That night as we got ready to cozy into our sleeping bags we noticed we had visitors. Hundreds...HUNDREDS of insects had decided to join us, many of whom were mosquitos. Even in a haze of wine, it was not a pretty sight; Simon clad in just underwear, squishing insects and leaving a trail of little carcasses on our van's ceiling.
Simon spent the the day diving: a successful one too with minimal difficulty getting under the waves, great go-pro footage that even the dive shop wanted to snaffle and beautiful sights in water you could see through for miles. I took the chance to walk along the sweltering Sodwana beach. A beautiful stretch of coast that was now in low season, leaving it raw and deserted. The night was spent getting ready for dinner and for bed in the dark in order to avoid attracting the mozzies and another killing spree like the night before!
Up and out early to see our final destination of St.Lucia; the hippo capital. Found often in peoples swimming pools or walking along the high street; they were by far the owners of the town. Our campsite was stunning. Herds of deer roamed around serenely, bird life sang as you wafted from van to shower block. The sun streamed through enormous, ancient trees and there was a braai at every corner! Bliss. We found a sheltered area, surrounded by nothing but trees and headed to town for a trip down a croc and hippo infested river whilst supping on a G and T! Perfect!!
Hippos are adorable and gross all the same time. Their little fleshy tummies, flappy ears and pudgy noses make them gorgeous. Their habit of flicking poo about with their tails and farting in the water ruins the illusion slightly. Despite this though, it is hard to tire of watching hippo life and this you can do in abundance in St.Lucia. The more G and T's we had, the funnier the creatures became!
That evening as we waited for burgers to sizzle and mushrooms to melt we watched the nature around us. By far one of my greatest memories of the east coast will be a giant group of mongoose (mongeese? mongooses? not sure!) that trotted out of the forest next to us. Hundreds of these striped fellows sat up and watched us, thousands of eyes waiting to see if we were trouble. They would, in unison, start to trot again and then without warning all sit up and stare!! Big, old, tiny: All shapes and sizes, all in perfect choreography. Brought a tear to both Simon and I!
That night we saw tiny, wide eyed bush babies in the trees above, deer went into the forest for nightfall. The owls started hooting, the hippos grunted and we felt like we were amongst it all.
Packing up and heading back to Jo'burg was a mixed bag. Great to get rid of the horror- van! Hooray! Sad that our South African chapter was drawing to a close. Simon and I had, without hesitation, enjoyed our time here the most so far. Perhaps it was the freedom of the car and the 10,500 kilometres of exploration. Perhaps because we ourselves had found an equilibrium with us, enjoying quiet time alone as much as time with others. Perhaps because of the incredible nature. Perhaps because of the 79 bottles of incredible wine we consumed or the now perfect braai burger. Whatever it was, we were leaving as happy souls, we were leaving very much together and as though we had seen a lot, and done it well. Tanzania had an awful lot to live up to. Fortunately we had one last thing to enjoy before we left South Africa. The 2008 Cobblers Hill didn't disappoint. Our final evening of the most outstanding wine left Simon lost for words and me a little warm around the knees. Thank you George, for a very fond farewell!