Tuesday, April 10, 2012

April 1-3, Sandton to Shibula Lodge, Welgevonden Game Preserve




After a relaxing couple days in Sandton, we finally mounted up to head north. My ride is a Moxie-orange F650GS, just like the one at home. Last year in New Zealand, I didn't have a bit of trouble adapting to driving on the left, but this year it was a real struggle at first. It feels like the roads are way more crowned than at home, and the pavement falling away on the left gave the terrifying impression of falling off the road. I know it will click in soon, just wish it would hurry up.

Our traveling party consists of two Canadian couples, Hank and Susan, and Sheldon and Betty Anne, as well as Juan from Spain and Per, a Norwegian living in Maine. Our leaders are John, with whom we've traveled twice before, and Rob, affectionately dubbed, "Proby," for this trip.

Arriving at the the reception gate to the preserve, we climbed into a safari vehicle for the 45-minute ride to the lodge. Our driver/ranger, Thomas, would be with us for two days.


On the way in, we stopped to watch the first of hundreds of critters we would see on this trip. Wildebeests, springboks, zebras, baboons, kudus, impalas, giraffes, lions... They carry on as if we weren't there, even when we park very close to sit and watch.

When we pulled up at the lodge, the staff were lined up singing a lovely welcome song.   Cool drinks awaited us, and then a private escort past a watchful baboon to our cottage on the hill. Now THIS is camping!


An afternoon nature walk led us by the caves of the many baboons who live in the area, and who frequently steel jewelry, magazines, duvets, pillows and anything else they can get their hands on in the lodge. The cave rocks, above, reminded me of nothing so much as a dog, being loved by his person. Do baboons have pets?

The evening game drive through the bush found us witnessing a cheetah taking down a wildebeest for dinner, a civet cat watching from the side of the road, many other sitings of creatures we've never seen.

After dark, we stopped in a field for a picnic of local sausage, dried fruit and wine, very similar in tone to the champagne celebrations after balloon landings. It felt new and familiar at the same time. Peacefully chatting with Thomas, we moved quickly to get back into the truck at his sudden, though calm, command. Once in, we followed the beam of his spotlight to the large bull elephant who had strolled up to investigate our gathering.

If post-flight balloon toasts were anything like this, I'd still be flying.

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