South African National Parks (SANParks)

Kgalagadi journey of discovery

The Kgalagadi Transfrontier Park will never be the same again, not after being invaded by four gorgeous women who managed to strew their belongings all along the road from Tweerivieren to Mata-Mata and back again. Not to mention the cases that were left behind at the airport nor the excess baggage, the boxes of apples and other monkey mischief.

We had been planning this adventure for ages, dreaming of lazing around in tented luxury amidst the vast sands of the Kalahari, and looking forward to the majesticantelope and the sight of leopards playing on the dunes. The four of us women: Moira, Maggie, Joan and Joan's daughter Sarah, were ready for our journey of discovery, not only of new places, but of ourselves, away from the usual mad rush of our separate businesses and daily lives. Living in Cape Town there was a lot of planning to do. It is too far to drive from there to the Kalahari, or at least it was too far for us. So we booked to fly to Upington and to hire a double cab, four by four 'bakkie' from there.
"A double cab will give us more luggage space," Joan explained. "There's all that space at the back and we have to take everything; our clothes, warm things, food and drinks. And it means we will sit nice and high so we can see the animals from there."
Ja, we agreed, it sounded like a sensible plan.
When the great day arrived we descended at an ungodly hour on Cape Town airport and here began the saga. The plane was one of those small jobs with propellers, and you couldn't even fit the vanity cases on board, let alone the bags we intended as hand luggage. Moira had two suitcases as well, and was overweight.
As she explained, "The weather is terribly extreme there you know. It can be hot or freezing cold in the desert so you must be prepared. And I simply have to have my hot water bottle, and a bottle or two of Scotch in case you can't get it there."
Joan's luggage included half the kitchen as well.
"You can't get everything there and I don't know what we can buy in Upington. I have also put in two boxes of apples. They love apples up there and can't get them." We still don't know where she got that notion from. The supermarket in Upington had plenty of luscious-looking apples.
Maggie was just overweight because she needed to pack her extra jerseys, wraps, whisky and things like cards and "Thirty Seconds". Sarah's luggage had an additional case of 'larny stuff' as she was intending to fly on to Johannesburg after the Kgalagadi.
After much discussion and paying R800 in excess baggage, the four glamorous girls finally got onto the plane.

Then the fun started.
The captain's voice came over the crackly loudspeaker: "This aery is overweight by 300 kilograms and we are not taking off until some of you agree to stay behind or all the excess baggage is taken off."

Everyone on board looked at everyone else, waiting and hopefully watching to see who was going to make a move. The other people on the plane were hunters, great big burly guys who we figured were themselves overweight. They also had with them really huge heavy guns and boxes of ammunition that weighed a ton. But you are not allowed to separate a man from his gun or ammo, so they could not leave their stuff behind. Would the women leave theirs then?

"Not a chance, we have already paid R800 excess."
Finally, and without our willing consent, a whole lot of bags were dragged out of the hold again and there forlornly abandoned on the apron were two suitcases, two boxes of apples and worse, a vanity case with make-up slowly melting in it.

Upington didn't know what had hit it. Four smartly dressed women, complete with nail polish, high heels and glamour, squashed into a double cab.
"Darling I don't think a child could get into that back seat, let alone my bloody long legs. You should have seen us."

Anyway, we now had to spend a night in Upington to wait for the luggage to catch up with us, so we bought wine, more whisky, some divine woollen things, and a few souvenirs including a springbok skin. Finally we set off the next morning for the long-awaited Kgalagadi Park, a day late and hoping no-one had cancelled our bookings.

"We knew there was a shop and café at Tweerivieren so we planned to get there in time for lunch. But what we didn't know is they don't serve lunch anymore," Moira said. "And we were hungry by now so I found the camp manager and told him his wife could at least make some sandwiches for us. What else were we expected to do? They seemed a bit taken aback, but she did. Can you believe it, here was that poor woman making sarmies for us. Anyway, we were jolly grateful, and after all that were running a bit late so we set off for the tented luxury camp near Mata-Mata."

The bakkie was now jammed full, with all the camping stuff, cases, boxes, extra blankets the lot. And the two in the back sitting with their knees around their ears. "Why nobody warned us about how uncomfortable those double cabs are I can't imagine. We could have got a proper four by four if we'd known."

Anyway, off we went bouncing over the corrugations, heading into the distance, eagerly keeping an eye out for the fabled lions and cheetah, or the stately gemsbok. Every now and then one of us would shout at Joan to stop, something had moved over there, behind that sand dune. It was of course 'definitely' a lion, or something else, though mostly it turned out to be a tree or a rock. Once we stopped for a beautiful secretary bird prancing round its prey on the ground, but Joan soon hurried us on as it was getting late and our Tented Camp was waiting.

Then suddenly we became aware of someone behind us, flashing lights and hooting like mad.

"Jeez," says Joan, "there's a madman chasing us. I don't think we should stop."
"No and in any case you're not allowed to get out of your car. Just keep going."
So she put her foot down and literally flew over the bumps, the madman wildly catching up.
Finally, in desperation Joan said she would have to stop. We locked the doors. The man behind also stopped, got out (illegally) and came over. Joan wound her window down about a centimetre.

'What do you want? Are you crazy?" she shouted at him.
"Hello ladies," he peered in at us. "Your tailgate is open and swinging around wildly. We have been picking your stuff up every few hundred metres," he said. "Thought you might want it back."

He pointed to his car where his wife and kids were half-buried under various items which were instantly recognisable. There was even a bag, and a blanket, some loose tins and some clothes.
"We couldn't save the eggs," he added with a grin. "They got a bit scrambled."

Oh hell, what a pickle. What if there are lions around? How do we all pile out here in the middle of nowhere? What if a ranger comes along?

"Too bad, out you get girls."
The tailgate was indeed wide open , and everything had shifted around. A case had burst open showering the place with clothes, underwear, shoes the lot. A box of kitchen stuff, salt, chops, braai spice and more had rolled sideways, sending some of its contents bouncing into the Kalahari.
After much pushing and shoving, and by then, peals of helpless laughter, we got it all back into the bakkie, and this time the now smiling man helped us close the tailgate properly, and off we went, once more into the sunset.

At last, a camp. Two separate luxury tents, but not much space to unpack all that stuff. And there was an awful lot to do; we needed to sort out our now mixed up braai chops from the breakfast cereal, organise the fire, and most importantly, pour ourselves a well-earned drink. Chaos reigned until a charming man introduced himself, saying he was at our service and would help with the fire and anything else we needed. What a delight and with his pleasant assistance we soon got sorted and settled down.
Then the fun started.
"Hey girls, where is my case? It's not here." Sarah was nearly crying. It was her larny case of stuff for Jo'burg that was missing.
"Uh, uh. Maybe it also fell out, maybe the guy kept some of our stuff, or maybe it's still on the runway at Cape Town."
Joan was busily unpacking bread, meat, tomatoes, rather limp-looking lettuce, cheese and a few nuts for snacks when out of nowhere came the sweetest little grey vervet monkey. As quick as a flash it had grabbed a tomato in one hand and, heaven help us, the car keys in the other. And then he (or she?) was off into the nearest tree. Sarah, who had spotted the key-grabbing, screamed and ran after the little blighter, shouting and throwing stones, not that they came anywhere near him. But he must have got the message because he dropped the keys, squashed the tomato and hurled it down at the ground.
By then we were quite hysterical, but Joan, every pragmatic, went and put the car keys away safely and Moira poured us another drink.
At last, after our thirst-quenching drinks and some rather tough chops we settled down to listen to the great silence. The huge velvet sky was like a crystal ballroom, the stars crackling like bubbles of champagne bursting with brightness, and all around us the geckos were calling and clicking, their endless love song in the moonlight. This indeed is what makes the Kgalagadi special.

Much later, when the geckos had quietened down and sleep was calling, Joan and Sarah called it a day, a long day. Moira and Maggie set up a card game in their tent, and had another little whisky to keep the lions at bay. Not that they were nervous they said later, but just some canvas between you and the bush isn't very much. They did eventually try to sleep but the hyenas or jackals or lions snuffling around and making noises in the night made for a fitful few hours. Finally the dawn broke and after coffee, we packed everything up yet again, this time checking the tailgate, and set off for Nossob, on the road across the dunes, via Bitterpan. An even worse road but as we discovered, the lions were real and they were awesome.

A huge male with a great black mane followed majestically behind three sleek females, all on the prowl. It sent shivers up your spine – and reminded us that this is indeed what the park is all about, beautiful and untamed. We watched mesmerised by the sight of these powerful beasts, wandering free and ignoring (fortunately for us) the vehicle and its inmates. The lions eventually moved on and we did too.

The vehicle bounced and shook its way over the dunes until at last came the welcome sight of the camp. Real buildings this time but before we could get through the gate a small red bakkie came screeching up behind us, looking more like an emergency vehicle than anything else. Now what?

"Thank goodness I caught up with you. You girls are driving like maniacs at that speed." He didn't look amused.

"Yes, but it’s the only way to get over the corrugations," says Joan knowingly .

"Well maybe, but your stuff has been bouncing out of your vehicle just about killing us behind you. In fact you're bloody lucky we could pick it up. And where, may I ask, did you get that springbok skin from?"

Uh Uh. Not again. Moira and Maggie had the giggles, Moira helplessly lying on the cramped back seat, weak with laughter. Joan just looked furious, and the man didn't see the funny side of anything as he thrust armfuls of clothes and the by now very dusty and rather mangy-looking springbok skin at us.

*******

That hired vehicle's back door never did close properly, we never did find the last suitcase, and the final straw was arriving back at the Upington airport. The plane was the same one, the hunters were waiting, with all their guns and slightly less ammo and they were still overweight.

"Luckily Sarah was flying to Joburg so they let us all on. But be warned the Kgalagadi is not for sissies," says Moira. "It was certainly a journey of discovery though not always what we had dreamed of. Would we go again? Yes, of course, we can't wait."