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.
Of all the places we have visited where hominids and their predecessors creeped or climbed or walked upright, nothing compares to this. The Cradle of Humankind is a bulging treasure chest of both hominid fossils and the fossils of the other creatures who spent millions of years in and around the limestone caves of this area. Limestone caves and caverns contain fossil remains of such wealth as have never been found before, preserved as only caves can do. Sterkfontein is the most famous of these caves.
Here in Sterkfontein the famous Australopithecus africanus fossil, “Mrs. Ples” – 2.1 million years old – was discovered in 1947. Fifty years later, in 1997, a full Australopithecus skeleton 3 million 
years old, known as Little Foot, found its way to the light. Its jaw contains 32 teeth in position. The story of its discovery is worth a movie. And those are just two examples – it 
appears there is no end to the wonders of Sterkfontein.
60 meters underground in the Sterkfontein, I’m wondering how anyone found anything in this dark place, and who even thought to look? Nowadays the cave is lit, with handrails and walkways and guided tours, but it wasn’t always like this. In the history of the Cradle of Humankind credit is given to the limestone miners and quarry operators, that if not for them these caves may not have been noticed. Quarry masters retrieved interesting rocks and passed them on to the scientists, as has happened in many countries. Now mining has ceased and the search for
our ancestors has taken over.
The many-branched family tree of modern humans is well-represented in the Cradle. Australopithecus africanus is the most common, he who roamed the area 3 million years ago. Fossils of saber-toothed cats have been found in the caves of the Cradle – I am thinking early humans were not cat people, given the size of a saber-toothed. Can you imagine? Near Sterkfontein, evidence of humans first controlled use of fire has been discovered – of course the braai-happy South 
Africans say, where else?
But a recent find is truly phenomenal. In a tight, previously unknown chamber in a well 
known cave, fossils of an entirely new hominid species were found by recreational spelunkers in a story fit for the ages. In analysis, and considering all the information the fossils present and all the evidence found (or not found), it is theorized that this new species of hominid, Homo naledi, carried their dead into this hard-to-reach chamber. The H. naledi buried their dead, after a fashion. It is mind-blowing. No one would have predicted this level of humanism in such an early Homo species. Isn’t it wonderful that science is shook up by something like this? That it challenges all kinds of preconceived notions of ancient hominids? And no doub
t there will be more to come. Even the well-explored caves have chambers no one has seen. What a rush it would be to be the first modern human to see hominid fossils hundreds of thousands of years old. I may want to get into spelunking. . . in my next life.
The tar roads in Kruger National Park allow for just about any kind of vehicle to game drive, something we haven’t seen before. The park maintains the many dirt tracks, something else we haven’t seen in many parks. The camping experience is quite different, people come into the park with their travel trailers towing a small car which they use to explore the roads, somewhat like in the US. This took some getting used to. Special campsites in the Kruger are highly coveted and reservations are booked a year in advance. We haven’t gotten used to that yet.
Rules abound for visitors. Don’t get out of your car except in a designated site. Preferably fenced. No jogging – they had to make a rule for that?? Only block the lane where the animal is, leave the other lane open – now there’s a rule made to be broken in those “Yellowstone 
moments”, as we call them. No speeding, but even at 20k an hour, far under the speed limit, if you hit a lizard or a tortoise it is curtains for the creature. When I see a pile of bones by the roadside I used to think a lion killed something there, but now I realize it is more likely a vehicle. Some scavenger made a meal of the unlucky creature I hope.
One directive is consistently broken by everyone at sightings. Do not put any part of your body out of the vehicle at a sighting. Not your arm or your head and certainly not your torso. This is known as “breaking the plane.” As a rule animals see vehicles as something solid. Studies have been done using dummies to dem
onstrate what happens when a limb sticks out of the flat plane of a car. Lions attack and they are quick about it. Leopards claw what is sticking out of a window. But humans aren’t dummies, right? That’s questionable.
We witnessed an episode of breaking the plane on our way to the Orpen Gate. We’d stopped to admire a very pregnant lioness. She was relaxed, laying on som
e sand near the road. Other vehicles were observing. Then suddenly her body tensed. Her head went up and her vision narrowed and her jaw elongated. She was staring at the road – what could she be so fixated on? Along came a SansPark pick-up truck with four guys sta
nding up in the bed, their heads well over the cab. That lioness stared and stared as they drove past, eyeing them like they were meat at the butchery. The four guys broke the plane. Likely a good thing she was so heavy, there could have been chaos (plus some crazy YouTube videos). And then on we went, inside the Beagle where it is safe. At least from lion.
Kruger National Park is home to 13,000+ elephants, slightly more than Gonarenzhou in Zimbabwe and many more than Gorongosa in Mozambique. The Kruger animals have been protected here for nearly 100 years with varying degrees of success. Different ideas and schemes of managing the elephants have come and gone in that time frame – some decent, some hideous. Today the best science is being brought to bear; it can be hoped that the future will be bright for Kruger’s 
elephants and that the Great Limpopo Transfrontier Park is successful in letting the herds have the room they need to roam. Many people are working on this polarizing issue.
At Letaba Camp there is an Elephant Museum, home to the Magnificent Seven. I cannot describe what it was like to wander into that building and stand before a set of tusks that reached far above me and dropped all the way to the floor. The tusks 
displayed here are so jaw-dropping enormous you can’t believe they are real. Each set of tusks comes with the story of its elephant, and most of the stories are of a long, natural life. Elephants can only live around 60 years before their teeth wear out and they cannot feed, and so they pass away. The lucky ones, anyway
. Others meet a different fate.
Killing elephants for their ivory is nothing new. The Arabs and the Orientals have coveted ivory for thousands of years and it is easy to see why. Ivory is 
more beautiful than gold. Touching it, carving it into trinkets, wearing jewelry made of it – yes, I can understand the obsession. I am obsessed with ivory as well but only worn on the beasts that create it for their own use. In the presence of the Magnificent Seven, marveling at the time-worn smoothness, the damaged areas, the rich colors – I want to drop to my knees and beg that not one more elephant will be killed for its tusks. But the slaughter goes on. The money is too good. Don’t for a moment think that anything redeeming comes from the killing. There is nothing remotely resembling a benefit to society being created with this blood m
oney. Tusks buy guns, and power. Guns kill 
elephants, and people. End of story.
Now imagine this – what if, every time an elephant is murdered for its tusks, what if all of the pain and horror and desperation and suffering were transferred to the tusks? And what if then every single person who handled the tusks were cursed with those emotions, had to feel them every day? What if the despicable person who ends up owning something from the brutalized animal, what if every time they touched it, or showed it off to their friends, or admired it, what if all they would fee
l was the horror? Would that it could be true. I borrowed this fantasy from a chapter in Arthur C. Clarke’s story “Childhood’s End.” It is only a fantasy.
210 million years ago (!!) in the upper eastern corner of the Limpopo region where Zimbabwe, South Africa, Botswana and Mozambique meet, Plateosauraus roamed, one of the very first plant-eating dinosaurs. Long after these biggest of all beasts disappeared, others found this area to their liking. There must have been something special here, I think; the land has been inhabited through the dinosaurs, the Stone Age and the Iron Age. The landscape of red rocks, mixed grasslands and rivers supported thousands of people and a ruling class was established on a hilltop high above the common folk. Exotic goods from Arabia, India and China were traded for, and fine craftsman were valued.
The Mapungubwe National Park is a UNESCO World Heritage Cultural and Environmental site. Mapungubwe, which has been known by many names, was a city of significant renown in Africa. Established governments were nonexistent on the continent, or so the Europeans perceived. Sites such as Mapungubwe and Great Zimbabwe proved them wrong.
Mapungubwe declined in the 14th century, which roughly corresponds with the decline of the 
large American Southwest city-states such as Chaco and Mesa Verde. Undoubtedly
climate change was the cause. Respect for (and fear of) the ancestors kept the Mapungubwe site a secret known only to the natives. But by the 1930’s local farmers had heard rumors of gold and jewels buried in the veld. Much like treasure seekers everywhere, they eventually found someone to lead them to the hilltop site and by the best of fortunes, one of these seekers was associated with a university. What luck for this important place. Without that connection the world may have never known the most wondrous artifact of all, the Golden Rhino.
Wafer-thin gold sheeting once covered a wooden carving of a rhinoceros – gold so beautiful and shiny, gazing upon it makes you realize why wars have been fought over this precious metal. The gold sheeting had been fitted over the wood carving with delicate seams. The perfectly exquisite ears were made from folded plates of gold held in place with tiny gold tacks. The wood has long since rotted away. All that remains is the gold sheeting. It is simple and simply breathtaking. The fact that it was made by fine craftsman, centuries ago in a land once thought of as the Dark Continent, changed the perception of Africa.
Leopard and rhino spoor dotted the trail as we hiked up to the sacred hill. Our guide Cedric led us to an preserved pit where archaeologists have left a timeline of the village they excavated. Then we climbed to the hilltop where the former lords of the region resided. Cedric pointed out that it was a privilege being here, as commoners at that time were never allowed. Yes, a privilege indeed.
The Golden Rhino now resides in the Park’s museum along with beads and stone t
ools and other fascinating artifacts; no photography permitted. The remains of people whose bones were taken away for study have since been returned and ceremonially reburied. The National Park status protects the 30,000 hectare site, which, aside from all the cultural significance, is a world-class game park with fine camping. Spend some time at the bird hide, do a game drive or two, then take the Heritage Cultural Tour and hike up to the site of discovery. The Golden Rhino is waiting for you in the museum. It will stay here in Mapungubwe, its rightful home.
There is time to contemplate how far we’ve come, from Cape Town to Kenya, to the beaches of Mozambique. Jim asked me where I thought we’d be without the Garmin and Traks4Africa – I said “Back home and divorced by now.” We are happily long past the point when every other minute brought on another decision. Tension ran high; that’s what comes of the being way outside your comfort zone. What would we change, now that we have time to think about it? Nothing, really. We couldn’t have taken this overland trip any sooner in our lives and the best time to go is when you go. The route has been successful – we calculated we’ve been on beaches of some sort since November, can’t 
complain about that. Neither of us has been sick. We’ve been through four different coffee presses, five decks of cards and one iPhone as well as countless cans of Peaceful Sleep insect repellent. We will not miss 
the mosquitoes.
There are places to return to and some gaps to fill, next time. Driving Namibia for months gave us a full view of that endless country. Botswana needs another look, hopefully before this trip is over. We’ve already been to Zimbabwe twice and will go back again later this month, so much to see there. Zambia is a favorite, where I am positive we waved to every single person in that friendly country. Tanzania nearly broke the 
bank but with its iconic parks it could not be missed. Zanzibar showed us our first taste of the slavers coast plus powered-sugar white sand beaches. The side trip to Ethiopia, that exotic place, was perfect. Camel 
caravans hauling salt into the sunset – what a scene.
Rwanda – a sobering lesson in humanity. One day we came to a nondescript village and it was time to get out of the truck. A large Genocide Memorial stood out, as in every single town and village. Only this one wasn’t quite finished yet. The very young security guard called an older gentleman to show us around this newly built but empty building. And the blank walls spoke as loudly as any placards. The hollow hallways echoed the footsteps of everyone who would never walk t
here. Finally we found ourselves in a basement containing 38 coffins, displayed neatly as if in a show room. Some had framed photos propped upon them, others had snapshots scotched-taped to them. To our undying surprise, the guide opened a coffin and handed us a small human skull. All these coffins have skulls, he said. At this location a church was bulldozed with thousands of people in it. His children are here, in one of the coffins. He shared his photos of them with us. We thanked him, signed the guest book and drove away. Rwanda; a country where everything is new because there was nothing left.
The primates in Uganda revel in the simplicity of life. We camped, all alone, in the Kibale forest and had a troop of 50+ baboons invade the clearing; they played, groomed each other and goofed off all morning, just having a good time being together. On the eastern side of the country we came to one of our better decisions – we really wanted to drive a certain road to enter Kenya. On the map it looked totally doable. But it was raining. Hard. And pondering the options,
we bypassed that road only to later meet a couple who had taken it; a heart-stopping track, they said “like driving on butter.” We spent a few minutes patting ourselves on the back for not going there. Of course that was prior to being desperately stuck in the mud twice in one week.
Kenya, that most organized of countries, gave us so many new friends. Eldoret town, Lake Turkana, the National Museum, JJs in Nairobi, Samburu Park, the fabulous Twiga and Barefoot beaches, Malindi town – I would go back to Kenya tomorrow. It took days for me to get 
over leaving Twiga; I kept asking myself why we left. But leaving there led us to Malawi and to time spent with our friends Jen and Jared. And on we go; more of Mozambique to see, more Zimbabwe, South Africa and camping with Adrian and Rentia, Swaziland, Lethoso, Botswana . . . where will it end?
Sociable Weavers are inconspicuous birds with sweet little dusky blue beaks. 
Except for their chatter, you might miss them – but for sure you would not miss their nests. These nests are as much a part of the Kalahari landscape as the red sand; the nests are an engineering marvel.
The birds band together to create these bird condos. Each pair of sociable weavers has their own room and there is no common area within – a huge nest might hold as many as 500 birds. Sociable Weavers eat grass seed and bugs and there’s plenty of both around so they are thriving. Pole after pole after pole contains a nest.
And yes, those are real, useable power lines the birds build nests upon, for the most part. The power lines and phone lines seem to be the perfect design for the nest foundation. Most of these lines serve communities out in the boonies – it isn’t like there are any extra lines in case the birds bring the poles down.
That’s exactly what happens. The nests become enormous and the pole falls over. Poles are left to lie on the ground with the wires intact and still running through the weaver nests. Doesn’t this look like a serious problem? Or is it not? No one seems concerned.
What a hoot. I’m reminded of the telegraph poles put up across the central US prairie and what a marvel that was at the time. That is, until the bison began to use the poles to rub off their molting hair. After all, there weren’t many trees on the prairie but suddenly here are lots of poles and millions of bison. Telegraph companies decided that spikes driven into the poles would deter the beasts, but the bison liked the spiked poles even better than the naked ones. Tough luck for them, as we know. And on it goes.
Is anybody coming? I ask Jim as I drive onto the highway out of our first campsite in Namibia. Not in the last two days, he says – ha! Welcome to Namibia!
After spending the obligatory two nights in the Kalaghadi Transfrontier Park we are in a new country. We would have spend many more nights in Kalaghadi Park but it is no longer an undiscovered arid transfrontier park. There is no room for us here, the campgrounds and chalets are packed.
Which is funny as you can drive for half a day and only see one vehicle. It takes us 10 hours to cover the 110 kilometers from Two Rivers to Kalaghari Tented Camp, bumping along the track, seeing all sorts of creatures. Two of those 10 hours are spent parked at the 13th borehole. There’s a bit of shade and a good view. I download some photos, read my John Reader book, and Jim takes a nap. You cannot get out of your car. A wildebeest comes by for a drink. 
Birds come and go. I’m not nearly as frantic as in the past to identify every bird I see. We’ve got two years; we will probably see another one of those. How relaxing this is.
We know how lucky we were to have spent over three weeks in KTP in 2013 with Adrian and Rentia – the four of us traveled the length and breadth of it, from Rooiputs to Mata Mata, to Swart Pan and Mabuashahube, an experience not likely to be repeated. It is a fabulous green park this time of year and as a parting gift we have our morning coffee with a male lion lounging in front of us.
Mata Mata is a hot and sleepy border crossing. The South Africans take our firewood – even though it is Namibian hardwood. Go figure. The Namibian border guard is ok with stamping our carnet, but only after I point it out to him. The carnet insures that we will bring the Beagle back to South Africa instead of selling it in some other country. A substantial deposit was put down for the carnet and I’m not risking losing that because a border guard was too lazy to do the stamp. Sometimes you gotta insist. I’m sure there will be more adventures at border crossings.
Just writing the words “decomposed granite” has me thinking. DG, we called it in the landscaping business. The word “decomposed” does not begin to do justice to the time it took for this material to be reduced to the beautiful rich red crumbles that homeowners put on their driveways and use to blanket their flower beds.
Jim and I hike the Dassie Trail out of our campsite at Augrabies. We take about four hours and spend all of it walking on rock that is so old it is difficult to comprehend. And it is stunning. In every size and shape, huge to tiny, dark black to sparkling pink, smooth and rough, it goes on and on. Good thing we are traveling light or the prettiest rocks would have come back with me, just like when I was a kid. In fact a small collection of minerals and stones has been gathering on the dashboard of the truck. It has occurred to me that these pretty rocks will turn into murderous projectiles if and when (more likely when) we slam on the breaks. I suggested Jim glue the rocks down to the dash to avoid that – I was half serious.
Granite was the light material that rose to the top of the magma to form the landmasses we live on. So yes, it is common. That doesn’t make it any less amazing. Robert Hazen’s “The Story of Earth” is a wonderfully readable book that explains how the forces of the big bang and the stardust it created came together to eventually form the beginning of life on our globe. Four billion years later, we are walking on that very material and picking up pretty pieces. It will never go away.
The many books we’ve read on animals, geology, history, paleontology and anthropology, and other fascinating subjects were mostly found at the free Community Library in Ketchum, Idaho. One of the reasons we found ourselves moving to Ketchum (30+ years ago) was for the Library. What we learned there is making our adventure so much more fulfilling. Along with books, the Library hosts brilliant speakers; we heard Dr. Donald Johanson talk about finding the famous Lucy fossil, and Greg Carr speak of how the restoration of Gorongosa Park in Mozambique is coming along. Gregory Curtis, author of “The Cave Painters”, brought to life the famous paintings of Cro-Magnon man and what has been discovered about them. If you’re ever in Ketchum, check out the ComLib. There’s always something interesting to read.
Augrabies Falls National Park does not disappoint. The water level at the falls is about 500 cubic meters per second when we arrive on Thursday evening. The granite canyon is damp with spray and the falls are respectably noisy. The layout of walkways and overlooks is impressive and we can stand above the biggest drop off.
The flow doubles to 1000cms on Sunday. Up and down the river it is known that the release is coming; there’s time to maneuver boats out of the way of the rising water and protect property. Sunday is a perfect day for the water to reach the falls; many people can come see it and many do. They are of all colors and life styles, a parade of Northwestern Cape people out for a day at the Falls. Black, colored and white, tourists and farmers and families; the day use area is full.
There aren’t many people camping. The campground is nice enough, with decent shade, but a bit ragged and dirty in places. There are patches of lawn that no one is suppose to camp on – the green-ish devil grass is to give an impression of coolness in this blistering hot landscape, I suppose. There are the Vervet Monkeys we’d heard about and baboons. Of course the signs that scream DO NOT FEED MONKEYS are generally ignored – the USA doesn’t have a monopoly on silly tourists.
The sound of enormous amounts of water falling far onto rocks has probably scared humans since the beginning of realization. It is intoxicating, frightening and beautiful all at the same time. Augrabies means “great noise” and it lives up to the name. Standing there right next to the big drop I can’t help but think of the one-armed Major John Wesley Powell and the men under his command who first put wooden boats on the Green River in Utah, and headed down the previously unexplored Colorado River canyon. No doubt the sound of the cataracts must have put the fear of god into them. Not being able to see those rapids – which were tremendous, frequent and unavoidable – how incredibly brave those men were.
No one is finding a line down the falls here at Augrabies. There’s first descents, and there is suicide. The charming Nadine, working at a camping supply store we frequented in Upington, told us that intrepid people explore the bottom of the big drop looking for diamonds (under the right conditions) and some diamonds have been found. Not exactly going to Jared’s for that special stone!
Upington is a good sized town and in the middle of it, right on the Orange River, is the Sekkie se Arkie camp. Peaceful and clean, it boasts a river boat for sunset cruises as well as an enormous yellow balloon thingy called a “fat boy” onto which very drunk people can jump from a high platform. Butt up in the river, the fat boy reminds me of a Trump supporter face-down in the kool-aid. Kind of tacky, but the rest of the camp makes up for it.
Theo is the manager and Alan from Malawi is the friendly groundsman. Boo-Boo and Zimba, huge mastiffs, apparently are security and we encounter no problems there. 
What a couple of brats they are. They get loud at times, lying under someone else’s tent trailer and barking at each other at dawn. Cheap entertainment.
Theo knows where to get whatever you need. He is a wealth of information about Namibia and is not shy to share. We wind up spending several nights at different intervals at Sekkie se Arkie and Theo is a welcome guest in camp. We meet a couple from the Netherlands traveling overland in a Toyota SUV, and a couple from Canada going around the world on BMW motorcycles. Heather and Dave are tough! They enjoyed an evening with us, especially sitting in real chairs. Turns out Dave is originally from Bellingham Washington and both of them have spent time in Stanley Idaho – small world, of course.
Then it’s time to see Dr. Du Toit.
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