Fifth Report - First Week At Augrabies Falls

A week has gone by since my last report was filed, yet it feels like I have not written anything in months. Much has changed, once again, and much has happened during my first week here at Augrabies Falls National Park. It would be difficult to read and to write about all the events of the past week in one single chapter. So let's get some structure into this puppy, and begin at the beginning (or end, depends on how you look at it)!

Kruger Farewell & Bustrip

It is difficult to understand why a suitcase will hold a certain amount of items just fine, but when you attempt to re-pack it it suddenly becomes impossible to put those exact same items inside. Clearly the manner in which you pack said items has some significance, but somebody has to explain to me why this is so. After unpacking and re-packing 4 times during my stay in the Kruger Park and every attempt being met with various degrees of failure and use of expletives, I gave up and bought an extra bag to hold some of my clothes and a pair of shoes.

So I was relieved to be packing my bag for the very last time, knowing that when I opened it next - if it did not explode first - I would finally be able to put away my clothes for one whole year. Happy day. On second thought however I was in fact not that happy. Our stay in the Kruger Park these past two weeks had been great; there is just no easier way to describe it. I think I can also speak for all my fellow volunteers when I say that this feeling of greatness was supported by the fact that we were not "just on holiday": we were being productive on a daily basis. We received lectures about environmental education, the history of SANParks, the Afrikaans language, fauna & flora, first-aid and the art of the "braai". Yes we were relaxing, but we were not lazy...there is a difference. We had a good rhythm going and I could have kept it up for a much longer time, as I'm sure the others could as well, but unfortunately we had to cease our travels through Kruger and go our seperate ways.

As those of you who have had the privilige of visiting Africa may have discovered, the last day at any national park is usually the most interesting. And by interesting I mean the most life-threatening. Although the rhino encounter during the bushwalk was probably more hazardous, when we drove towards the Phalaborwa Gate around 6.00am on Wednesday morning it was as if Kruger did not want to let us go. Two encounters made this relatively short drive memorable. First of all there was a huge herd of buffalo which had decided to pick the nice piece of open grassland next to the road for its breakfast. And when I say herd, I'm talking about several hundred individual cows. Now such a troop could cause quite a lot of damage to any object in its path, but the powers-that-be of Kruger thought they would merely distract us (at first) with this magnificent sighting. I think we probably remained there for about 45 minutes before we realized that we were on a tight schedule and had to make the Johannesburg Airport in time. So onwards we drove, tearing ourselves free of the buffalo.

Now Kruger was clearly not in the mood for subtleties anymore. Dropping all pretense, an elephant bull was dropped in the middle of the road and it was pissed. Literally. The ellie was in musht (to put it simply: horny as hell) which can be identified by the leaking glands on the side of its head, but also by the fact that it is walking around urinating everywhere. Plus even a tourist from Gauteng can tell you you don't mess around with something like that. Plus plus it was big, really big...and it had tusks, huge tusks. This is of course the time that Pete chooses to show us one more time what he is made of and casually drives our (very fragile looking) minivan towards the "roadblock". Clearly the ellie was not going to move and at one point he decided that we were getting too close and gave us a little charge. We backed up. Now things were getting critical, time-wise, and we could not wait around much longer. So once more we approached the ellie in an attempt to pass it, but no longer any of that sissy sneaking, no no! Pedal to the metal baby!!

The Kruger gods must have admired our bravery/stupidity because we were allowed to drive past mister Drippy and continue on to the civilized world. Around lunchtime we drove through a very picturesque little village - I forget the name unfortunately - where Pete suggested we have some food at a place called Harry's Pancakes. Absolutely amazing pancakes, I have to admit (coming from a country with a rich pancake tradition - the Netherlands) they were the best I have ever had. I'll have to ask Pete what this, very camp and un-African looking, village was called.

At last we had arrived at our destination: Johannesburg. A city so crime-ridden that the innocent people actually live behind bars - it's cheaper than building a prison for all the offenders. Unfortunately for those amongst you who regard Jo'burg as a no-go area while travelling through southern Africa, I have to pull you back to reality. It's not as bad as you think. Most areas in the city are not much different from any other cosmopolitan capital anywhere in the world and the risks just as great. Would you walk down a busy suburb in Rio or Paris or Rome with your brand-new and very shiny digital camera swinging from your neck? Pockets bulging with local currency? I don't think so (and if you do, you're an idiot).

At the airport we had to say our first goodbyes. Actually that's untrue, we said farewell to Saskia in the morning because she was driving up to Mapungubwe - but saying goodbye at the airport does add to the emotion of the moment. We dropped off Jenny (going to Table Mountain NP) and Kristel (going to Namaqua NP) at the domestic flights with about 30 minutes to spare - this means of course that we were ON TIME, something unheard of in this continent. Madelin (going to Tsitsikamma NP) was also leaving us here because she was going to spend a weekend with friends in Jo' burg before heading to her coastal paradise. So after all the tears (mostly mine), me, Pete, Ben and Catherine drove to the Backpackers Ritz in the Hyde Park area of the city - in this case the name of the suburb does do justice to its obvious wealth, beauty and serenity. A great place to stay for cheap, I highly recommend it - but try to avoid sharing a room with a snoring South African rugby player and/or a young and inexperienced German teenage couple who can't stop touching each other. While we were there we also met some very colourful characters who really warrant a completely seperate chapter; all-in-all a very good place to crash.

So after a very short and often interrupted night's sleep (rugby player/teenage couple) we got up, once again, at 5am because Pete was coming to pick us up at 6.00 and drive us to the central busstation. All went smoothly - except waking up of course - and we learned yet another important lesson on life in South Africa: traffic rules are not so much "rules" as they are "guidelines".

Now Johannesburg's central busstation is an adventure all on its own. Tourist guides warn strongly against going to it, or at least they recommend spending as little time there as possible, but once again I found it to be a very colourful, interesting place. Certainly any self-respecting traveller (notice I said traveller, not tourist) should pay this place a visit as it is a melting-pot of cultures, nationalities and people. Take the logical precautions and enjoy the chaos. Less interesting to me was the bustrip I was about to take, all the way to Upington - about 900km give or take a few. Now I am not very keen on buses, long-distance ones anyway, and I can safely say I was feeling a certain dread as the hour of our departure approached. Our dear colleague Ben (from the States) provided the world with yet another reason to be jealous of Americans because his busride would only last a measly 3 hours - he was going to Golden Gate Highlands NP. So at 7.30am me and Catherine said farewell to Ben and Pete and boarded a so-called "Sleep-Liner" from InterCape: basically the interior of the bus was like being in the business class of Singapore Airlines - sweet! Things were certainly looking brighter!

...Eleven hours, terrible movies, worse service and countless desperate looking villages later and suddenly I could not wait to leave this hell-on-wheels. I'm sure that the relief on my face was obvious when I spotted the guy from Augrabies who was sent to pick me up. This "real world" was not made for me - at least not at this moment - and I could not wait to settle down in another one of South Africa's National Parks.