Wilkinson's World

Archive for August, 2009

<< Back

Days 6-8 – Piper Pan to Passage Valley 80kms

Jon drove in front for the first part of our trip to Passarge Valley as he and Hillary knew the way. The road was sandy in parts, but generally the surface was like hard clay and it was a very pleasant drive. We stopped often to photograph birds and look at tracks on the road.  Jon and Hillary both trained as Field Guides and Hillary, in particular, is something of an expert on animal tracks. It was interesting to have their input on fauna and flora that we didn’t know about and they in turn appreciated our knowledge of birds, so our relationship worked extremely well.

Just before the turn off to Tau Pan, Jon stopped to let us take the lead. At Piper Pan, on one of our many game drives, we had laughingly given rand values for each unusual animal that anyone spotted. For example, whoever saw a lion first would be paid R20,00 by each person in the party, R20,00 for a leopard and R15,00 for a cheetah. We were delighted when we had just taken up the lead on the way to Passarge and I spotted a big lion asleep under a Catophractes bush right next to the road. At last! I was in the money!

He didn’t let our ooh’s and aaah’s disturb him at all and merely lazily opened one eye to look at us before going back to sleep. Seeing this enormous lion actually gave me quite a laugh because whenever we stopped, Jon would jump out of his car, binoculars in hand, and come running up to us to find out what we had seen. Imagine if he was at Rob’s window and we pointed out a lion five meters behind him! The thought gave us the giggles for minutes afterwards. In all other game reserves we’ve been in, one isn’t allowed out of one’s car for this very reason. The Botswana game reserves are quite different as most campsites are not fenced off at all. One just has to be extremely careful and aware of the danger.

The trip to Passarge is only about 80 kms so we took our time and enjoyed the many sights. We passed a number of small pans on the way, some with little islands of trees in the middle of them. Game would often gather around the trees for shade and it appeared that there were more animals in this area than at Piper Pan. We came across a group of about fifteen giraffes quite near Passarge and when we stopped to photograph them they all turned and stared at us curiously. They looked perfect in this setting and we loved watching them amble gracefully from tree to tree.

Our campsite at Passarge Valley was an absolute treat. Situated on a slight elevation, it overlooked the pan and an island of trees. Once again we saw lots of giraffe and springbok. We were heartened by this, because lion and other predators only come to an area if there is an abundance of food. It certainly looked promising. There were no other campsites around so we knew we’d have the place all to ourselves. Passarge turned out to be our favourite spot on the whole trip. Not only was it in a beautiful situation, but we were blessed with our game viewing.

We left our camp early the next morning and headed back on the road towards Piper Pan. I was overjoyed when I spotted a male lion in the valley ahead and I urged Rob to speed up to where he was. On arrival we saw not one, but a pride of five lions at a kill that must have just happened. Luckily for us they were feasting on a gemsbok not two metres from the road, so we were able to take up a position right next to them and watch them for hours. What a magnificent spectacle and we had it all to ourselves!

The pride consisted of an adult male and three female lionesses, as well as a young cub of indeterminate sex, who had the cutest little face imaginable. We sat enthralled as they tucked into their meal, all the while encircled by at least six agitated black-backed jackals who were hoping to catch a piece of the action. The pride gorged themselves on all the delicacies that a carcass contains – we watched as they ate the liver, the tripe and the innards.

Eventually, completely stuffed and with faces painted with blood, they made their way across the road in front of us to sit replete under a thorn tree. They left one young lioness with the task of carrying what was left of the carcass to a safe spot under another nearby tree. Rob and I took dozens of photos as this spectacle unfolded before us, amazed at what we were seeing. Once the carcass was removed, one very nervous jackal rushed up and picked up the remains of the stomach, only to be chased by the rest of the pack who also wanted his prize. The young lioness had her work cut out guarding the carcass from the jackals and the vultures that circled overhead. Eventually she pulled it right into the bush and lay next to it, defying anyone to come near her.

Having this incredible sighting of a lion feed, anything else we saw would have to be an anti-climax. We headed back to camp for the rest of the day, planning to return to the site later on to see if the pride was still there. By now my camera batteries were flat and Jon’s fridge battery was also dying, so Rob started the generator and we hitched up everything that needed recharging. The noise disturbed the ambiance somewhat, but at this stage recharging batteries was more of a priority than enjoying the silence of the bushveld!

Our camping fridges did a marvelous job and at no time did we ever have to suffer warm beers!. By deep freezing our meat beforehand, we were able to turn the fridges right down and keep them as freezers for at least three or four days into the trip. This enabled us to have gourmet meals the whole holiday. John loves cooking so he made us a scrumptious roast chicken and roast potatoes in his flat bottomed cast iron pot. When we weren’t having braais we were able to have paella, oxtail, lamb knuckle stew and even delicious campfire bread. “You have to eat the bread hot tonight,” Hillary said as she pulled the loaf out of the pot. “If we leave it until tomorrow morning you can use it as a stone for a catapult.” I had frozen three loaves of sliced bread which lasted us until we got to Maun, so we were able to have toast for breakfast every day. On one cool evening at Passarge we feasted on jaffles, washed down with gluwein. What a combination!

At about four p.m. we headed back to where we’d left the lions and were surprised and somewhat disappointed to see two vehicles parked watching them sitting under their thorn tree. Fortunately, the tourists didn’t stay long as they obviously had some distance to cover to get to their campsite, so once again we were left alone with ‘our lions’. The one female was lying asleep on her back with her legs in the air – her bloated belly pulled tight as a drum from what she had eaten earlier. The male lion stared at us as if to say “Haven’t you seen enough of me today?” and our cheeky little lion looked sleepily at us from behind his dad. There was no sign of the carcass or the jackals.

We eventually tore ourselves away from this special scene and headed back in the direction of our camp. As it was still quite light we drove further down the valley. By now I was driving and Jon and Rob were sitting on the roof of the car, beers in hand, directing operations from their lofty positions.

“Stop!” they shouted when they spotted two bat-eared foxes and a jackal. We also came across a Kori Bustard in the long grass that Rob wanted to photograph in flight. For this I had to walk towards the big bird so that Rob could capture it the moment it took to the air. With my muscles still in spasm I hobbled over to it and there were cries of delight as it flew off. This was to be the first of a number of attempts over the next few days to get a decent flying shot of a Kori Bustard.

Later on we headed back in the direction of the lions to see if they were still there. It was getting dark so Rob and I both shone spotlights into the veld on either side of the car as we drove along and Jon was also scanning the veld. Suddenly I saw two cheetahs walking along the road in front of us. This was amazing as it was the first time I’ve seen cheetahs in the wild. We managed to get quite close to them before they headed off into the grass and disappeared.  Oh, and I had earned some more money for my good spotting! What was it – R20,00 for a cheetah?

The lion family was still sitting under their thorn tree, but as it was getting quite late we decided to head back to the camp. It had been the most exciting day of game viewing ever and I was sure I would be too pumped up to sleep that night. The Kalahari had certainly shared some if it’s glory with us and we were ever so grateful to have been so blessed that day.

<< Back

>> The Lions of Passarge Valley

The First of Several Weekends at Ameib Ranch - June 2006

Someone in Underberg once said: “Here comes the tortoise” when I drove the Toyota into their driveway.  I smiled when I realized that they were referring to our rooftop tent – the little house on the back of our bakkie.  Yes, that’s true and what a wonderful little house it has proved to be over the years.  It has served us well on many trips and Namibia has been the ideal country to put it to good use.  This being the land of eternal sunshine, one can always rely on the weather being sunny and fine when planning a camping trip.

Thanks to an informative book called “African Adventurer’s Guide to Namibia” by Willie and Sandra Olivier, we discovered Amieb Ranch quite soon after our arrival in Windhoek.  Situated in the beautiful Erongo mountains halfway between Windhoek and Swakopmund, Amieb is one of my favourite places in Namibia.  There are two ways to get there, one via Usakos and the other on a rather scenic route via Omaruru and through the Erongo Mountains.  If one has time obviously the scenic drive is better, but it is longer, so the first two times we stayed at Amieb we opted for the shortest route to get there.

After turning off at Usakos one crosses the dry Khan riverbed at least six times as it winds its way alongside the road to Amieb.  Huge trees line the river banks and I always feel that we should take a walk along this riverbed sometime before we return to South Africa.  Amieb Ranch, being a nature reserve as well, is fenced off and on arrival one is met by an enormous metal gate that the guard opens with great effort to let one in.  The scenery here is quite dramatic, with the Erongo mountains forming an awesome backdrop. These imposing mountains just get bigger and bigger as one comes closer. After passing an airstrip flanked by an “arrivals  building” consisting of a thatched roof supported by four wooden poles, a large dam comes into view.  The two bird hides on its banks invite us to view the water birds that live there.

On arrival we are guided into the car park by a friendly employee and escorted to Reception through an amazing garden of indigenous trees and plants.  We are greeted by a number of friendly cats, one of which looked like it had long gone Siamese ancestors.  With the formalities taken care of we spent some time looking at photographs on the walls.  They had the usual pictures of the mountains and Phillips Cave, but we were interested in a photo of a zedonk – a cross between a zebra and a donkey.  Assured that this creature did actually exist and could still be seen, our appetite was whetted for whatever other wonders lay in store for us.

We were then directed to the camping area a short way from the main buildings and were pleasantly surprised to see how neat and orderly it was.  Campers have their own reasonably sized swimming pool and a small but adequate ablution block.  Many of the sites had thatched umbrellas and bomas with concrete floors, but generally the ground was dirt that was meticulously raked every day.  The groundsman must have had Zen tendencies as he raked away any footprints almost as soon as they were made!  We’ve been to Ameib several times and always managed to stay in the same campsite – a rather nice one close to all the amenities.

Located on the property is Phillips Cave, a national heritage site because of its rock art, and Bull’s Party, a collection of gi-normous round granite boulders spread over a large area.  We haven’t worked out why it’s called Bull’s Party, but everyone we’ve taken there has been most impressed with the place.  In addition to these two attractions, the Ranch also offers technical climbing in the mountains and numerous hikes.  On arrival we’d discussed an ambitious circular hike with the owner that would have us walking from the campsite to Phillips Cave, across the valley to Bull’s Party and then around the mountain to see Elephant’s Head and back again, a distance of roughly eighteen kilometres.  Not too far in hiking terms, but when one takes the heat into consideration, the hike becomes something of an epic journey.

Setting up camp literally takes a few minutes for us.  We have a wonderful routine going – Rob opens up the rooftop tent and I tend to the table and chairs and unpack sleeping bags and pillows.  In no time we’re relaxing in our new environment, usually with a kettle on the gas fire for some tea, or with a cold beer from the fridge depending on the time of day.  Apart from the rooftop tent, our little Engel fridge has been the single most useful purchase that we’ve made for our camping trips.  Always assured of cold beers, cool drinks and unrunny margarine, it’s an absolute must in this hot environment.  It’s also ideal for storing meat and salads for a couple of days.

Looking forward to our hike the next day, we settled into the camp and watched the sun set over the distant peaks of Spitkoppe.  This was followed by a scrumptious braai under fifty trillion stars!  The night sky in Namibia, especially out in the country, has to be seen to be believed.  One feels rather small and insignificant in the grand scale of things when one looks up at the Milky Way in all its glory.  Namibia is well-known for its magnificent views of the stars and the big observatory in the Gamsberg draws lots of visitors.

We set off early the next morning to try and catch the coolest part of the day.  The walk to Phillips Cave starts off along a flat path that is flanked by lots of trees, most of which have been numbered.  We’d been given an information sheet about all the numbered trees, so spent some time identifying them as we walked past.  One of the most common in the area is the Shepherd Bush, a strange tree with stemless leaves growing directly on the branches.

Also plentiful and literally growing out of the rocks, are the varieties of Commiphora (also known as “kanniedood”) – vaguely similar to the botterboom with their papery bark, they are bulbous in shape and seem stunted in their growth.  Sometimes their bark is a bright copper colour, making them rather beautiful.  Because of their short stocky shape, they look like miniature bonsai arrangements on the rocks and I never cease to be fascinated by these quaint little trees that seem to grow with no nourishment whatsoever.

When the path changed to rock and we started climbing a bit, Rob pointed out a small and somewhat lethargic Horned Adder he’d spotted.  We were wearing hiking boots so were in no danger of being bitten by the adder if we’d inadvertently stepped on it.  Horned Adders are quite venomous and a bite has some nasty repercussions, so one does want to avoid them if at all possible.  Hikers have to keep an eye open for snakes as they are rather plentiful in Namibia!   Fortunately they are more prevalent in summer and most of our trips are done in winter, so we don’t come across them too often.

We reached Phillips Cave about an hour later after a very steep climb up a rocky incline.  Set in the side of a huge rock face, the cave is more of a gaping opening in the mountain really and looks like a large open mouth.

The back wall is covered in bushman paintings, some very faint, others more distinct.  There is a real danger of them fading and not being visible quite soon in the future.  The paintings typically were of animals, and included antelope, zebra, ostrich and a big white elephant.  There were also some humans depicted, probably performing a spiritual ritual.  On the floor of the cave were a number of stone implements supposed to have been used by the bushmen.

…

It was interesting to see the composition of the rock at the entrance to the cave and also on the way up there.  It is very soft and breaks off in huge chunks.  This process is known as exfoliation and that’s an apt description because that’s exactly what it looks like the rocks are doing.  In fact the pieces of rock fall off like an onion peeling layer by layer.

We sat for a while watching a magnificent lizard with a bright orange head and blue scaly body.  Its proper name is the Namibian Rock Agama and these colourful little fellows are found wherever there are rocks.  I think they provide a tasty snack for the eagles and kestrels that hunt over the mountains.  One can also always be sure of seeing dassies wherever it’s rocky and the Phillips Cave area is home to dozens of these little creatures.

After a light snack and some cold drinks we set off on the track that lead across the valley to Bulls Party.  The path wound down the same way we’d come and then crossed a dry river bed before turning right onto new territory.  The walk across the flat plain seemed to take forever, probably because of the lack of shade, and the heat that was making itself felt.  The sky was an endless blue with no signs of clouds to cover the sun even for a moment.  We saw some buck along the way and were amused by the loud screeches of the colourful rosy-faced lovebirds as they flew overhead in small groups.  With their rounded heads and beaks, Rob likened them to spitfires – the planes used in the Second World War.  That description appealed to me immensely and I had a good chuckle every time I saw them after that.

When we were in New Zealand we stopped at a tranquil place called The Chasm quite near Milford Sound and came across a notice board nestled in the trees with the following quote:

“The finest workers in stone are not copper or steel tools, but the gentle touches of air and water working at their leisure with liberal allowance of time.”  David Henry Thoreau.

This could have been written about our next stop – Bull’s Party.

Bull’s Party is an amazing assortment of round granite boulders.  One in particular looks like the head of a parson, others just look like what they are – enormous boulders.

What is interesting about them is the way the wind and water has, over millions of years, eroded them into round spheres, now resting on very small points on the ground.  The geological name for them is ‘woolsack’ granite boulders – due largely to the variations in temperature – extreme heat and cold over a sustained period.  With many of these boulders perched on the side of the mountain one can easily imagine them reaching a point where, with sufficient wind or water, they could roll down to a new resting place on the flat plain below.  It’s a fascinating place and we almost had to drag ourselves away after spending some time exploring the area.

From Bull’s Party we made our way around the mountain to a flat rocky plain.  From here we had a wonderful view of Elephant’s Head – an enormous rock taking up the entire side of the mountain which, as its name suggests, resembles a large elephants head with the trunk coming down almost to ground level.   We carried on around the mountain, past lots of even bigger boulders than we’d already seen, to a point on the southern side where we could climb to the top of the Elephant’s Head.

This section was really interesting.  Where we had to negotiate the sheer rock face, there were rungs hammered into the rock.  Other spots had rungs in conjunction with sturdy ficus trees that we used to pull ourselves up.  Still other places had rungs and chains for us to pull on.  It only really got challenging and a bit scary near the top of the mountain, where we had to pull ourselves up with the help of a chain. It would have been a very high drop if we’d slipped and fallen.  At the top we had to jump over a rather wide chasm to continue with the walk across the top of the mountain.  Unfortunately the wind was blowing quite hard up there and neither of us wanted to risk falling into this deep cavity, so we opted to retrace our steps and go back the way we’d come up.  This wasn’t quite so easy, as the scary section was just as frightening to go down backwards as it had been on the upward journey.  We made it though and felt rather pleased with ourselves for having been so adventurous.

It’s not really advisable to visit granite sites in the heat of the day.  Not only does one have to contend with the burning sun overhead, but the rocks reflect the heat, making it rather uncomfortable.  Early morning is probably the best time to visit the area if one has the choice and the time available.  The rocks cool down dramatically at night so there is quite a variation in temperature at the start of the day.

Having seen all there was to see in the area, we made our way back to the campsite.  This time we followed the road that is used by those not fit or mad enough to walk the whole way.  The mountains on either side of the road are really beautiful so we continued to enjoy the spectacle as we made our tired way back.  Our round trip had taken us ten hours, admittedly with many stops to look at birds, so we rewarded our mammoth effort with some ice cold beers followed by a wonderfully refreshing shower.

Early the next morning we walked a short way back along the road and took the trail leading to Zum Reisen.  This is another fascinating place amongst the rocks and we saw lots of interesting trees and animal tracks along the way.  Dassies called out from the rocky outcrops, their cries mimicking the braying of donkeys.  We heard too the cries of the Red billed Francolins, who also like to walk amongst the rocks.  We were especially thrilled to see a pair of black Verreaux’s Eagles circling overhead – too high up for a photo unfortunately, but we were able to identify them easily enough.  We had hoped to see some Hartlaub’s Francolins, which are found in that area, but they remained off our ‘lifer’ list for the weekend.

And yes, we did manage to see the extraordinary zedonk before we left. His body was quite plain, but the stripes were clearly visible on his legs.

On a scale of one to ten, I’d rate Amieb Ranch a nine.  It’s a wonderful spot – and excellent value for money if you are camping as there is so much to see and do.   We like the place so much that we have since taken many of our guests and friends there – Mick - Pete and Lauren - Vaughan and Mary - Mary and John - Jo and Des - Neize and Hartmut.  (I think we should be on the Ameib payroll!)

Being a relatively healthy individual (touch wood, of course) I’m no pundit on medicines and how they work, but I have recently developed an interest in the phenomenon of the unconscious and deep sleep state.

One doesn’t hear too often these days of delicate young ladies fainting and swooning like they did in the early 19^th century, although I must admit that this does still seem to happen occasionally at rock concerts.  I rather suspect that we have evolved into a much more robust species due in all likelihood to emancipation and women’s lib.  I can’t imagine that it would have done the image of those tough suffragettes much good if they had been caught swooning whilst tied to their lamp-posts.

We could probably even trace our evolution back to the fearless girls of the sixties who burnt their bras.  They couldn’t possibly afford to swoon or faint into crumpled heaps when going braless – it could have lead to all sorts of fondling and abuse whilst they were non-compos mentis.

Looking at the solutions they used to bring the ladies of yesteryear out of their faints, one often reads of the much-used sal volatile, salt of hartshorn or smelling salts being waved under their noses.  These were highly effective due to the pungent ammonia content of the salts which was initially derived from the antlers of male deer (harts) before being produced synthetically in laboratories.

But before I give women a bad name for being wimps, let us not forget that smelling salts were (and still are) also used to revive robust athletes and sportsmen who lose consciousness when injured on the field or in the arena.  Big hulking boxers, knocked unconscious by their opponents, are brought around by the wonders of white crystalline salts of ammonium carbonate.

How these smelling salts work is by releasing ammonia gas which, when inhaled, irritates the mucous membranes of the nose and lungs, causing the patient to breathe faster and revive.  Perfume is sometimes added to the solution to improve the smell of the salts.   These days, in some medical circles, the chemicals in smelling salts are deemed to be potentially harmful and they are therefore considered dangerous.  Ammonia should only be used in small quantities in well-ventilated rooms as their fumes can be quite toxic in large amounts.

I know that great care has to be taken with animals that are anaesthetized for operations as their little bodies are not able to take the slightest overdose when putting them under.  In my research I haven’t come across any methods for bringing animals back to consciousness, although I heard a joke once describing how a cat was passed slowly past the nose of an unconscious dog to see if there was any reaction, with the owner being sent an horrendous bill later for the ‘cat scan’.

If no equivalent of smelling salts is available yet for reviving animals, then perhaps I can be of help as I seem to have stumbled upon a fail-proof remedy capable of bringing even the most comatose cat out of its slumbering state.  They say there’s none so deaf as those who will not hear and my cat is living proof of this maxim.  When he is curled up asleep on his favourite chair, with his nose buried deeply into his folded paws, no amount of calling or coaxing will get him to lift up his head in acknowledgment.  Even his ears remain motionless, making one wonder if he’s gone deaf whilst lying there or worse still, died in his sleep.

My version of smelling salts is so potent that even if my cat is fast asleep in another room, or outside in the garden, one sniff of my miracle remedy will have him wide awake and clamouring to be with me.  I aught to patent my discovery for the commercial potential is vast, but as I’m in a philanthropic mood and generally have a warm fuzzy feeling towards fellow cat-lovers, I will disclose my well-kept secret for nothing.  Dried Wors (sausage).

This will probably come as a shock to those die-hard rugby supporters who consider dried wors only as essential fare for watching a game, but this incredible sausage definitely has all the properties required to revive cats instantly.  Not only is it harmless when taken in small doses, but one gets to share it with one’s feline friend, thus bonding the relationship even further.

We all know that drugs are tested on animals prior to being unleashed on humans, and, at the risk of having the bunny huggers and green people lynching me for having tested this wonder reviver on my cat, I highly recommend that the smell of the humble dried sausage be replicated in the laboratory and given to the world as the safe replacement for smelling salts.  Whilst at present the smell of dried wors is unknown to a large population of the world, I can vouch that it would waken even the most comatose South African.  I must warn you though, for folks who have left the country for pastures green, it could probably have some unpleasant side effects, like homesickness and depression.