Ruth wanted to see ‘a bit of Africa’ in 10 days. “Drive around, see some countries,” she asked.
Aged 30, complicated, full of life, excitable, blonde, tall and beautiful, Ruth expects a lot. She’s Canadian and works in medical admin in Saudi Arabia.
So off we set, drove Johannesburg to Francistown, spent night one in Woodlands overnight camp. Rack of lamb expertly braaied by yours truly (thank you, thank you) over Mopani wood coals, a tame guinea fowl flock waking us early the next morning with screeches and clucks as squirrels danced across our chalet’s thatch, that special bushveld smell infusing our coffee and rusks.
“Excellent!” judged Ruth.
At the Chobe River we searched for our booking at ‘Ouma se Plekkie’, discovering it was called Kasane Self-Catering and was the home of a former Chairman of BirdLife Botswana. Heuglin’s Robin sang us to sleep after brilliantly braaied steak (thank you), salad and potatoes, readying us for our afternoon cruise on the river. (Yes, I do know its new name is a White-browed Robin-chat but they don’t sing as well.)
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A small elephant herd on an island came to the boat, another herd walked alongside us, 50 hippos gave us the hairy eyeball, open-billed and yellow-billed storks vied with carmine bee-eaters, long-toed plovers and jacanas to entertain us.
“Splendid,” said Ruth.
And the morning and the evening were the second day. Behold, on the third day we did rise at dawn, enter a small craft and scurry up and down the Chobe River, seeing puku buck, impala, cheeky warthogs, a giraffe, 100 hippos and an impressive herd of 300 buffalo. White-fronted bee-eaters and red-billed oxpeckers waved us goodbye.
Africa’s bureaucratic irritation struck us for the first time as we crossed from Botswana’s clean border through the mess that is Zimbabwe’s border post. A 60-minute wait plus $75 for a stamp for Ruth, single entry only. If we walked across the bridge at Victoria Falls to Zambia it would be another $75 for her. Idiocy.
We stayed at the Victoria Falls Rest Camp ($40 a night for a chalet for two) on night one, then moved to the Victoria Falls Hotel after Ruth rafted the mighty Zambezi.
“Awesome,” said Ruth.
So was that lovely old colonial hotel, great room, splendid atmosphere, superb manager, cheerful and helpful staff.
“Fabulous,” said Ruth.
We watched a video of her trip at Shoestrings, the backpacker place. Loud music, cold beer, indifferent pizza but ultra-fiery chilli.
“Burnt my tongue,” bemoaned Ruth, as we breakfasted or rather feasted the next morning with the splendor of the Victoria Falls Hotel view before us.
What makes this hotel so special, owned as it is half by Zimbabwe’s railways and half by Zambia’s?
“It’s the staff, and the history, and it is iconic, indulgent even opulent,” says manager Giulio Togni.
He is being modest.
Cape Town-born, this hotelier plays a big part in making sure the hotel charms every guest. And it’s green, with a worm farm and its own large vegetable and herb garden which
feeds guests.
We have now been in Vic Falls for two-and-a-half days and three nights. Intrepid rafter Ruth has still not seen the falls.
“Tomorrow,” she says.
So we book into the luxurious Stanley and Livingstone, where Mike the Head Ranger gets us off the game vehicle to walk down to the river to confront a black rhino and her calf.
Calm until she smells us, the mother snorts, whirls around, half charges. Mike shouts at her, she backs off – and Ruth has backed away quite a significant distance.
“Awesome,” says Ruth. “My heartbeat raced!”
Excited she asks, “Were you nervous?”
“No,” I lie. (She needs to feel safe, is my justification.)
That evening we stalk buffalo on foot before sundowners of G&Ts on a high rock.
“We were really close!” says Ruth, and Mike admits even he was worked up.
“Exciting,” says Ruth, “hey?”
Next is Hwange, two nights in Zimbabwe’s popular reserve. With ranger Mike we decide Ruth’s ‘tribal totem’ is a honey badger so it is uncanny that early the first morning we see two honey badgers at our braai place.
Top three sightings for us at Hwange are the badgers at our chalet at 5.30AM, a tawny eagle at the waterhole, and a dozen herds of elephant cavorting in mud, water and around our car.
“Better than sex,” says Ruth.
Welcome to Africa, my dear.
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