The Beagle, a 2008 Toyota LC on a drift across Africa, piloted by Jim (FitzRoy) and Ann Colleen.
The Beagle, a 2008 Toyota LC on a drift across Africa, piloted by Jim (FitzRoy) and Ann Colleen.
While there will never be tele-porting space travel, this is the nearest thing to it; fly from an earth-bound African village (of sorts) and l
and the middle of a historic European city such as Amsterdam. What a shock. Just leaving our hotel room at the outskirts of downtown and riding the metro into the city center left us open-mouthed. And how could it not be this way? We were nearly as shocked when seeing everyday life on the African road. It is good to be amazed no matter which road you travel on.
Amsterdam is a beautiful place steeped in arts and culture. And food, let’s not forget the food. Choices of bread alone are endless and my mouth is watering seeing the fresh loaves of bread in every other window. We picked up some appetite stimulator (when in Rome, right?) and take advantage of all opportunities. 
The metro and light rail systems are ideal and to no longer be driving in a strange place is freedom personified. We can walk anywhere and when tired, we can ask anyone how can we catch a train or a bus to wherever we need to go. And they will tell us, exactly. They won’t make anything up or advise with a wave of the hand, “… it’s just some kilometers that way” . We know now that we 
have left the planet Africa.
Museums are plentiful and we spent a full day in the Rijksmuseum and nearly all the next day at the Van Gogh. In-between, we wandered the canals and enjoyed the parade of 
fashion going on around us. The style leans heavily on black and grey – we fit right in except for shoes. Bright patent-leather did not make into my luggage, but I will look for some when I finally get home – even if I don’t have a place to wear orange/pink oxfords. Despite a day-long cold rain, bicycles are still the most prolific form of personal transportation; they are lined up three deep and blocks long in various places. It is inspiring and I cannot wait to ride my bike again. 
There is much to contemplate at the end of this long journey. The people, the places, the events. Before departing we were fortunate to dine with our Oregon friends Jen and Jared, who were in staying near us in Joberg. Cynthia and Frans at Meerkatsplaats gave us a fine farewell and reminded us that we must come back to Africa and camp with them. Adrian and Rentia are on the road, doing their own camping trip – we envy them their route north. But we’ve 
been there, to the north. We’ve been so many places and made so many friends in the last two years. Now we return to our other friends and family and our home on Deer Creek Road. Tough to beat that.
Saying goodbye to Botswana and the people at Okavango River Lodge was as emotional as any of our partings. We’d quickly made friends with Caroline, the proprietor’s mom (she’d been in Bots since the 60s) and in the space of a couple of hours we’d formed a fast friendship with an Aussie photographer – I hope he shows up at our doorstep in Idaho one day. We even camped next to a couple we’d met in Kenya. Small world.
Botswana was a joy, from the parched Central Kalahari to the soggy Delta. When people ask us what is our favorite place (and everyone does), Botswana rises to the top – to compete with the other favorites. Botswana has kept the camping wild – many places look much as they did 15 years ago when we first came to Africa. We will return to this 
marvelous country one day.
Meanwhile, we are high-tailing it back to South Africa. What’s the hurry? Well, we have someone very interested in buying the Toyota. It is time to pass the Beagle on to the next traveler, and to find our way home. Believe it or not, this was always the plan. And somehow our plans have worked out despite most of them being just dreams.
How to manage this final project – find a place to unpack the truck, have it cleaned inside 
and out, then arrange to meet the buyer’s agent. Without knowing where all these chores are to be done, we just picked the town of Muldersdrift on the west side of Johannesburg. Lucky us – we found the perfect place. Meerkatsplaats is a charming B&B with a free-standing cabin, ideal for our needs. Plus the owners Cynthia and Frans are dreaming of a similar trip to ours. There couldn’t be a better place for us to spend our final week in Africa.
And luck is still holding. The buyer interested in the Beagle is a gentleman from Germany we met back at Twiga Beach where we spent the 2017 holidays. His friend and agent, Hans, is only a few kilometers from Meerkatsplaats, and we drove there in the freshly valeted Beagle – who wouldn’t be impressed? The inspection and test drive were almost perfunctory. Before we could gather our wits and change our minds, the deal was done. If you are wondering are we sad (yes) or do we have sellers remorse (no) . . . well, this was always the plan and the plan worked.
Have you ever dreamed of a bird so astonishing? One that makes you drop your binoculars and gasp out loud – or worse, drive off the road in amazement. Luckily I wasn’t driving when this Southern Bald Ibis appeared. They are as spectacular as the stars and planets, although not nearly as numerous. SB Ibis roosts in communes on cliffs overlooking the Crocodile River at the Lowveld Botani
cal Garden. Unlike many of the remarkable birds I stalk, this species is pretty much always in the same place and easily photographed once you get over the shock of seeing it for the first time. They are (of course) on the vulnerable list – habitat loss, poisoning, and other human-caused fatalities are taking their toll. As you can see, some of these SB Ibis are banded and are being studied. We can hope for them.
Of the more difficult species to shoot (and I mean with a camera) are the Purple Tu
raco. Large and flashy, they spend their time high in the trees eating fruit. How does such a big bird whip through the branches so fast? And how do they know to hide behind a stick or stem when they see me coming? Purple Turaco possess a feature that no other bird on earth has. Besides the ubiquitous carotenoid and melanin feather pigments that are responsible for feather color in all birds, the Purple Turaco have two other pigments. So special are these pi
gments, they are named after the Turaco, “turacin” is a red pigment and “turacovedin” is a green pigment. Together the pigments give the bird an extraordinary and unmistakeable magenta color on their flight primary feathers. Should I be lucky enough to capture an image of this
color I will consider it a lifetime achievement. Patience + persistence + proximity = luck
And on it goes. The elephant/baboon standoff at the water tank. The thousands of buffalo stirring the dust in the mopane. The lioness’ stalking prey in broad daylight amidst the cars. Hennie and Miempie, a couple we met back on the Wild Coast, and who invited
us to visit them – a special afternoon. They remind me that there are so many people I would like to see again, and likely won’t. As with some birds that I would fall to my knees to glimpse just one more time, some people will have to remain a fond memory.
It would be painful to leave Africa after all this time without seeing wild dogs. Their appeal is obvious, the beautiful colors of their coats, the giant ears, and just the fact that they are dogs makes seeing them a top priority. But finding them is the difficult part; as said, the Kruger is huge. Cursorial hunters, the dogs hunt by running down their prey and running is done early in the morning and evening. The rest of the time, they lay in shade; down in the grass they are nearly impossible to spot. What might give them away is the flicking of their white-tipped tails and their big ears.
And so it was that we came upon a vehicle parked beside a main tar road at about 1pm on a very hot day. We coasted up behind them and turned the engine off. (BTW, there should be a special place in hell for those who leave their engine running at sightings). Not 100 feet off the road, laying under a thorn bush, there is something . . . and the flick of ears and tails gives it away. Wild dogs. OK, now yes, we can say we saw wild dogs – but as you can imagine, just seeing them laying on t
he ground is not exactly optimal. They aren’t doing anything. We watched and waited but it is so hot – we take a chance and head back to camp for lunch after marking the sighting on the GPS. We’ll come back soon, with any luck they will still be here.
Afternoon drives are tough. You can only go so far before you must turn around in order to make your gate before it clo
ses. The dogs are at the far end of the distance we can travel. We park in same spot and patience pays off. As the air cools and the shadows lengthen the dogs perk up – it is action time. The two groups of animals, about 20 feet apart, burst into a frenzy of greetings as though they hadn’t seen each other in years. Yipping, laughing, running circles around each other, they are a joy to watch. Their posturing and submissive behavior comes across as hugs and kisses, to anthrophomorphise (again). They shove and tackle one another for a time then drop to the ground apparently exhausted by all the sociality. What a si
ghting for us dog-lovers, one we will never forget. To top off our efforts, as we drove back to camp (with just enough time to make the gate) Jim spotted two Honey Badgers in the grass! Another creature we so wanted to watch. We are the last vehicle to pass into camp, fully satisfied with a spectacular day in the Kruger.
We parked underneath the zebra carcass high in the tree, and we waited. It was 6:30am and we got up at 5 to be in place here, hoping to see the male leopard who’d stashed the zebra up the tree. Imagine a cat carrying a small horse into a tree – yes, leopards are amazing. This leopard is shy. After 30 minutes or so, I see him approaching in the long grass. He comes into full view and stops, eyeing us even though we are not in his way. Still, he backs off and lays down and it is unlikely he will rise again, so on we go. Welcome to morning in Kruger National Park.
Kruger is the crown jewel of South Africa’s parks, taking up nearly a quarter of the county of Mpumalanga, with the Oliphants River splitting the park into two zones. North are the Mopane trees, south are Marula trees, more or less. As mentioned previously, this is our third visit; it takes many days to see a park this big and we are barely scratching the surface. This final visit is a long-awaited homecoming of sorts for me – we are staying at both Satara Camp and Orpen Camp. Orpen and Satara have permanent waterholes and at those waterholes are webcams broadcasting 24/7; whatever happens here, people are watching all over the world. I was one of those “webcammers” for years; to be here in person is truly a privilege.
Orpen is a very small camp, only 15 units, and fully fenced for what it’s worth. Animals that want in can get in somehow and this hyena in the cover photo wanted inside. It did not end well. We were just sitting down to eat lunch when the hyena ran past our deck, quickly followed by the camp ranger carrying a rifle and a sidearm. The ranger fired a warning shot and the hyena raced up to the deck next to us. Needless to say we stepped inside and shut the door – hyenas are not to be trifled with. Once the creature had crossed the line, aggressively running into the camp laundry and scattering the staff, the ranger had no choice but to end the conflict. The resident honey badger is slightly less trouble, only coming into camp kitchens at night to raid the garbage, but still not a creature to mess with. And as anyone who has seen the YouTube video knows, honey badger don’t care.
Nelspruit (Nel’s Spring) was our base camp for a long week of taking care of business. It is a booming town not far from the southern gate of Kruger National Park. Farming is big here, citrus and macadamia nuts. There is a vibrant downtown and some cute little neighborhood centers with restaurants and small shops as well as the usual malls. All our chores can be accomplished here – thankfully, no need to go into the capital city of Pretoria.
What we’ve come here for is the VFS office, the visa extension service of the SA governme
nt. Our 90-day visas will expire soon and we need more time in SA. The process is somewhat complicated, there is an online application, a ream of paperwork that needs printing and a letter to compose saying why we want to stay longer. That part was easy, we have much more of South Africa to visit. It will be at least four weeks before we know if our application is accepted; meanwhile we received a little piece of paper allowing us to stay beyond our current visa, in case anyone asks.
Sixteen kilometers from town and right on the Crocodile River, the Hippo became home. It
is a gem, with beautiful landscaping, a resident cat and an easy-going staff. The Hippo is busy all the time with the business flourishing in Nelspruit. If you want to stay there, you’d better call ahead or as one guest said, be friends with the manager Antone, he can work miracles. Indeed, when it looked grim for finding housing for a week, he fixed us up with one of the bigger cabins. Our good for
tune, as we are going to empty everything out of the vehicle to have it detailed. About time, right? All our goods fit nicely in the cabin, the hippos and birds kept us company and within a week we were clean and shiny inside and out. Now it’s time to find somewhere to go while we await the visa decision. Well, what about Botswana? Yes, why not. The Tuli Block is just up the road (ok, a two-day drive) and the Limpopo River is calling us. Off we go to get the truck dirty again.
North of the Eastern Cape we passed through Mthatha, Nelson Mandela’s birthplace or at least the closest town to it. The Mandela Museum deserves a look if only we could find parking. Actually there is lots of parking but to fit the criteria there needs to be some security. We’d already had someone flag us down and tell us to lock up the outside gas canisters. Guess that good samaritan did not see the cable lock on the tanks. At any rate, we drove around the museum a couple times and finally we double-parked in front and asked the museum guard where could we park? He quickly offered to guard the truck and had us park it in the no-parking zone. Of course.
Ephemera from Mandela’s life is the story of South Africa in that time. His early life fascinated me; the village upbringing, an arranged marriage he managed to escape, his family, and his friends. Mandela was not alone in the struggles against apartheid; throughout the museum are newspaper articles, photos and bios of the many black and white Africans and Indians who joined in the effort. People from all over the world were involved in the politics of those violent times. Non-violent protests had brought no change and the decision to use violence turned 
Mandela into a thug. Considering what he was fighting for, and against, it is said that he knew that difficult decision was the only choice, although it cost him dearly. How would it have been to be a young man under those circumstances? Then to spend 27 years in a horrible prison and come out of it to be the President of South Africa. What a sad wonder.
Finished with our tour and a bit chilled (the rooms were icy) we stepped out into the warm sunshine, paid our truck guard a few rand, and drove away, contemplating how it has only been 24 years since South Africa abolished apartheid. For many, this last quarter-century has brought prosperity. But a friend has told us that in his 
lifetime in South Africa the necklace, that ungodly horror of putting a burning tire around someone’s neck, is still used here as a method of terror. Then, and now. Mandela would weep, knowing that. I cannot help but think of what Rodney King said. . . why can’t we all just get along?
What the heck is a Baviaanskloof? A place for baboons, by its original Dutch meaning. The Baviaans south-west of Addo Park are rugged red-rock mountains, with seriously steep mountain passes. The entry road was reasonable but I’d seen the signs for “4×4 only” and yes, 4×4 low came in handy, uphill and downhill. Parts of the track were so intense I had to look away (Jim was driving) (haha) but I was on the outside looking down, whew! What rugged country this is. Our final Baviaan campsite was deserted, there was no one there to even take our money. You might think that a little nerve-racking, not having another soul around; it is almost wild camping, 
only with amenities. What the heck, we are camping in Africa, it is all crazy and exciting.
Dropping out of the Baviaans and hoping for some warmer weather, the Wild Coast of the Eastern Cape jumped up in front of us. Crashing waves, rocky coastlines, whales, dolphins, surfers, birds, rivers, estuaries, hillsides covered with brightly painted houses. This part of South Africa doesn’t often see the safari-goers, no Big Five here. Here it is surfers and fishermen, beach combers and older Afrikaans caravan campers. It is a mix of people unlike 
any we have camped with. Chatting with folks on the beach revealed a slice of Eastern Cape life; one gentleman evoked Paul Simon’s song “Homeland”, referencing the nearby town of Ladysmith. This is rural 
South Africa and it has been the homeland to so many, including Nelson Mandela.
Jeffry’s Bay is a smart little town, boasting the “world’s best right-hand break”. This isn’t surfing season; too bad, I’d have liked to watch some cold water surfers. On up to Storms River Mouth, a place I’d heard so much about but never pictured us there – I don’t know why not, it is a stunning beach and the camping is ideal. Reaching Natures Valley, we turned around east without a clear destination but with a desire to hug the wild coast a 
little longer. That’s when we found Mdumbi.
Mdumbi Backpackers Lodge is worth the two-hour drive on a busy, rough dirt road. The local community and the Lodge have an obviously wholesome, beneficial relationship – camping there made you feel like you are really making a (small) difference. Staff was delighted to 
show us around the hilly compound – there is a communal kitchen and eating area plus a health-based restaurant; a sunny common room out of the wind, and completing the vignette, a couple of dogs and cats. The rocky shore supported endless tide pools. The shells weren’t bountiful but it is all about the hunt, right? Just an excuse to walk the
beach. Again.
Serious surfers went out, some returning to say “well, it was surfing, but the waves sucked”. The days passed. One day it was so cold and windy, the sun room was worshiped by all. We finally had to roust ourselves and head on down the road, away from the sea. It is likely that we have seen the last of the sea at Mdumbi, and if this is to be our final memory of the Indian Ocean, it is a superb memory.
Adrian and Rentia arrived at Addo Elephant Park just as we were pulling in – not bad timing considering they drove from one side of this huge country and we drove from the other. What a joy to see them! We’d said goodbye in Cape Town 17 months ago, and now here we are together again; a pinnacle has been reached. Adrian made the reservations, booking us into the main camp for two nights, then off to bush camps for the last two nights. There is so much to talk about. Four days will not suffice, but it will have to do.
Addo Elephant Park is a haven for the great beasts and the usual suspects in an African game park, with a couple of exceptions. Addo boast the “Big Seven” as opposed to the Big Five – the designation given to those animals most difficult to hunt on foot, namely elephant, buffalo, rhino, lion and leopard. So who are the other two animals that account for the Big Seven? It isn’t monkeys or baboons although there are plenty o
f those. Addo Park encompasses a portion of the Indian Ocean and guess what swims right into the park – whales and white sharks. Clever, right? The big seven. I think whales and the white shark fit the billing – who’d hunt them on foot anyway?
The four of us (the Big Four) enjoyed what Addo main camp had to offer and for many it is the only camp they visit. By contrast, Mvumu camp is one of the bush camps and while it does not boast large predators and elephant, the camp is remote and rarely used. There was an ingenious parafin-heated hot water 
shower (a dribble really, not a “shower”) and a bird hide – what more do you need? The road was not sedan-friendly. In fact it was healthy to have two vehicles traveling together, not that anything went wrong. Stream crossings, crazy steep and narrow mountain passes, rocky roadbeds – all in a day’s work for the two Toyotas.
From Mvumu the track led us (slowly and cautiously) over the mountains through the biome known as the Avery Thicket, past giant ancient cycad trees and tiny cacti, and on to the seldom-used Darlington Dam campsite. The gate guard told us to be aware, there are three lion around, he said, but no one knows exactly where they are. When we heard a mournful hooting call we at first assumed it was the cats, but it turned out 
to be a male ostrich. They make an deep-toned, drawn out hoot – at Marakele Park they hooted right next to us and yes, it is loud. So next time you are sleeping in an unfenced camp miles away from anywhere and you think you hear lion roaring, just tell yourself it is an ostrich. Happy dreams!
Adrian and Rentia are embarking on a three-month self drive trip beginning this fall, and with all that to plan for, plus work in general – well, it was incredibly generous of them to take the time to come all the way to Addo just to camp with us. Our reunion was at once both joyous and bittersweet, for none of us know when we will see each other again. Not ones for long drawn-out goodbyes, we simply left it at “when we meet again”. Adrian and Rentia are so special, best friends worth seeking out any time, any where. We will see them again.
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