Crossing South Africa

Position: 25°21’39.6″S 31°53’35.9″E

There is something about driving across a country as a foreigner that impresses the locals. Particularly in a place like South Africa. “You drove here from Cape Town?”, they might say with a certain amount of incredulity. We nod enthusiastically and smile. Credulity assuaged, their expressions become one of circumspection, for these strangers might possibly be bonkers.

With a population roughly equal to the UK (62 million and change) and a land area about 10X as large, South Africa is a fairly empty country. Even so, humankind’s footprints appear in every corner of the place. There doesn’t appear to be a square inch of land that hasn’t at some point been trod on. From nomadic herders to murderous colonists, the dry, wind blown countryside bears the scars of humanity’s touch.

It is late winter here and spring has yet to turn the dry season to the rainy season. Everything is dun and dusted. A few patches of irrigated land crop up here and there, mostly for fodder for well heeled cows. Groves of orange trees sporadically break up tinder grasses that less fortunate cattle and sheep graze on. Reaching along the jagged border with Lesotho, a steady 30 knot wind blew out of the west and chivvied us along.

Here the roads shrink in every dimension. Breakdown lanes vanish and sandy shoulders become the norm. Tarmac that on the main highways looks like neatly justified text becomes ragged along both margins. Potholes appear out of the black and entirely at random. Even apparently new roads may sport an event horizon large enough to swallow KiKi’s (our Kia Sonet’s nickname) front axles.

Keep Left Except to Pass

The highways department is getting things done. Work crews are out repaving some of the more egregious sections and the major roads are in good shape. But in the forgotten corners of the country, those places where a Hendrick’s gin and tonic costs $3.50, you may be better off negotiating the sandy shoulders than on what’s left of the hardtop.

People mostly drive on the left here, like they would in the UK or Australia. Avoiding potholes may mean swerving from one side of the road to the other. Carol, only occasionally, reminds me to get back on the proper side of the road.

South Africa’s national parks are flanked by private reserves. These reserves are fenced and cross-fenced with miles and miles of electrified barbed wire to keep animals in and poachers out. Inside you’ll find lodges that charge anywhere from $500 to $5,000 a night.

Outside the reserves accommodations are much more reasonable, starting around $50. It isn’t clear what unique extras you get for $5K, other than bragging rights. The wildlife isn’t any more cooperative and so far, our bedding has been spotless and beds very comfortable. Amenities like lounging bathtubs are standard fare, here. I suspect that, along with the full English breakfast (eggs/bacon/tomato/sausage and toast), the Victorians imported that simple luxury.

The Coriolis Force

Now, I know what you’re going to ask. Do the loos drain the opposite way they do in the northern hemisphere? Yes. Although Debbie Downers might point out that may have more to do with the design of the loo than the gravitational pull on the water. Nevertheless, extensive empirical observation confirms things spin backwards down under. In fact, so strong is the force it even flips the loo roll the wrong way around on its holder. Consistently. We flip them back, so the paper falls off the front of the roll. Correctly. Mainly in the hope another colonial norm will take hold.

Hardly Kruger

Kruger National Park is safari central. It is the crown jewel of South Africa’s tourist attractions and where all manner of people flock to see the Big 5 (not the sporting goods store). Here the Big 5 are lions, buffaloes*, rhinoceros, elephants and leopards. The term, unsurprisingly, dates back to when “the great white hunters” stalked trophies with a fevered bloodlust that decimated whole populations of animals. Things are a little better these days thanks to more enlightened tourists and better protection from poachers.

We have yet to see a lion, but we’ve checked everything else off that list. Our leopard, full disclosure, was spotted (and spied) darting across the road in a low crouch just ahead of us. Our rhino lounged by the side of the road looking a little dazed and melancholy. At least he twitched his ears so we knew he was still alive.

The Latest Gnus

Southern Kruger isn’t, we were told, the best part of the park. Yet in two days we saw dozens of gnus, elephants, zebras, and splendidly gangular giraffes. And behind our chalet just outside the park a herd of kudu discovered we had vegan snacks for them.

Kudus are big, grey antelopes, with large black eyes and corkscrew antlers. Their velvety ears stick straight out from their narrow heads and are lined in a fetching coral pink. Skittish at first, they are as food motivated as a Labrador retriever. In a matter of minutes, we had a half dozen pet kudus eating out of our hands. Their long purple tongues gently lassoing the treats we held out.

A couple of days later ‘haunch of kudu’ appeared on the menu in a nearby restaurant. That would be like eating Bambi, I decided. So, I settled on a braised joint of Springbok instead. As cute as those little deer-like animals are, they’re as common as rats in a New York alleyway. That means their function is to feed higher order predators, like leopards, and me.

Giraffes!

Truth is the giraffes stole the show. Anything 18 feet tall walking around under its own recognizance is hard to miss. Stately and calm, they glide through the bush like a ship under sail. They are lovely and gently relaxing to watch. See for yourself:

*Note: the term buffalo here refers to water buffalo. A bit like how football is called soccer in the United States. (Not really – ed.)

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