This is Africa #5: A Day in the Life of an African Safari

Of all the things I miss about Africa, I miss being on a safari the most. While at Kruger National Park in northeast South Africa, Kelly and I operated on “animal time.” We had established a solid routine of getting up at 3:30 a.m., brewing coffee, and as the first light appeared, drove to a nearby watering hole to watch the animals come out.

We parked the car. Sipped on boxed wine. Took out our cameras and binoculars and watched hippos, alligators, buffalo and impala share the same drinking hole, all the while keeping an eye for predators. A British family from whom we had borrowed sugar for the coffee gave us the tip that there had been a lion kill — the pinnacle of all thrills for safari-goes — at this same spot four days ago. Trackers spend entire lifetimes without seeing a proper lion kill. So we kept our fingers crossed and used our peripheral visions to scan the savanna for any movement, the slightest twitch, the perking of an ear perhaps. Intensity and expectation could not be any higher. I understood why people paid good money for this. How lifelong addictions were formed.

No lion kills that morning, but we did see the carcass of the hunted giraffe where buzzards now circled overhead. It was time to go back to our lovely cottage at Bateleur bush camp, the most remote of all lodgings inside Kruger, where the night before a spider had weaved an complete web on my lens hood.

Breakfast was cooked with the supplies we had picked up at one of the bigger rest camps named Shingwedzi. After filling up on omelet, toast, home fries and another cup of coffee, we consulted our map to plan out the adventure for the day: North or South? Forest or savanna? Rhinos or Crocs? These were some the difficult choices we were faced with.

We drove at the relaxing 50 kms speed limit and arrived at the colonial-style Mopani rest camp straight from Out of Africa and feasted on springbok and ostrich burgers for lunch. The weather was steamy, so like the animals we sought shelter from the heat and opted for a nap, or perhaps a swim at a public pool in the campground. Come Golden Hour, we got back into our vehicles or embarked on a guided “Sunset Drive” with the incredibly knowledgeable and friendly trackers who seemed to possess superhuman powers. Unlike our untrained senses, they were the ones that could actually pick out that twitch of an ear or blink of an eyelid hundreds of yards in the distance.

The main goal, of course, was to get a glimpse of the big cats — lions, leopards, cheetahs. For those rare sights, you needed an elevated safari vehicle and the expertise of the trackers. And even then, only if you’re very lucky.

But we had already been lucky. The previous day, we were rushing to make it back to our camp before dark (otherwise you could be ticketed), cruising on a dirt road that was supposed to be a shortcut. Kelly was behind the wheel when we drove right past him. I did a double take and looked out the rear windshield. “Leopard… leopard… leopard… LEOPARD. LEOPARD! LEOPARD!!!” My voice went from a hushed whisper to a crying chant. Kelly stepped on the break sending a cloud of dust into the air, and then ever-so-slowly backed up until we came within spitting distance.

There, in all the glory of the cool late afternoon sun sat one of the rarest creates in a park the size of Massachusetts — Mr. Leopard, himself. He was sitting on a canyon surveying the valley below. When he noticed us, he turned to look. Our breathing stopped. Kelly switched the gear back on drive and I had one finger on the window button. (JUST. IN. CASE.) I sized up the giant cat and the opening of the window and understood if he wanted to, he could very easily jump right onto my lap.

Instead, he yawned, and went back to sunning himself. Leopards are creatures of the night so we assumed he had just woken up and was evaluating eating options down below. We had learned that as long as you stayed inside the vehicle, you should not have any problems. For thousands of years, humans have hunted animals on foot, never on vehicles. The animals had passed on this understanding to future generations, although I did come damn close to challenging this theory by writhing my body out the window with Kelly holding my legs in order to get a better shot.

After a few more seconds, he stood up, yawned once more and then swaggered down into the valley below. It was amazing how his mannerisms were exactly like a common kitten. We inched the car forward until we lost him in the bushes. Later, we would spot him again crossing the plains below. Our hearts in our throats, we finally allowed ourselves to breathe again, knowing an intimate moment with a majestic creature had passed and we would never forget it for the rest of our lives.

Back at camp, a kudu steak the size of the moon would be sizzling, waiting to be washed down with South Africa’s finest beer, Black Label. Afterwords, on two separate occasions, we partook on another guided “Night Drive” where we tracked lions and owls with spotlights in the dark. It was a completely different experience from the day safari and one you had to experience with a guide since visitors weren’t permitted on the road after 6 p.m. (Future blog post to come)

After it was all over, we got to see Kruger’s Big Five — Buffalo, Elephant, Rhino, Lion, and the elusive Leopard. But it was so much more than that. We got a peek at a different kind of world — one where animals roam in the wild and nature rules all. Here, we were the creatures inside cages, treading carefully and not to disturb the beautiful harmony that seamlessly existed.