The first thing I saw on the road that day was a flock of baboons. I heard them before I saw them; loud screeching followed by a couple of trees swaying and bam, there they were. A couple were already sitting guard almost by the road, but the rest were making their way down from the trees. I sat for a good while and watched my distant cousins eat each other's fleas, pick their bums and generally behaving as if they were from Mississippi.
Baboon sex ed.
True story: Facebook wanted me to tag the face of this baboon. Even fucking AI can recognize evolution!
The little babies were especially fun to watch. The little rascals were jumping around from branch to branch, trying to shove each other down and sometimes succeeding. The large males were securing the perimeter and no one really cared one iota about me watching them.
I like this photo. Oh, how I like it.
Wheeeee!
All aboard the mommy train.
Here, he's fallen off and is desperately trying to get back on. Mom's like "time to start walking, kiddo".
Clinging on for dear life.
After some time they started moving to the other side of the road and to disappear into the tall grass, so I continued south. An elderly guy stopped me and told me there were two male lions a little further down the road, so I hastened down there and lo and behold, not only could I see them, I could photograph them with my shiny new toy. None of yesterday's pics had required heavy firepower, but the lions did. And looking through that lens was like standing right next to them. I had goosebumps and a lump in my throat. This was a completely new world and it was mine, all mine.
Just chilling in the morning sun.
On the go.
Ten minutes into the shooting, the two lions went off into the woods and I kept going south. I took some close ups of a giraffe, then I went west into N'Kaya Pan, where there was a tiny body of water. A few cape buffalo and some impalas were drinking, both species heavily decorated with birds. At one point some other animal, I think it was another type of antelope, was walking through the bush behind them and the impalas immediately went into panic mode for ten seconds before realizing their mistake and returning. I've heard of fight or flight mode, but these animals only have flight and headless flight.
Any self-respecting giraffe is home to several small birds who help to keep his hide clean.
He'd look like a tough mo'fo if it wasn't for those birds.
Consider the impala for a moment. One must feel sorry for these beautiful, slender, gracious grazers. If you ever look into the eyes of one you will see nothing but beauty, innocence and the mindless panic that makes up most of an impala's life. They are built for speed and move with such grace that you can be forgiven for forgetting that their sole role in nature is to be eaten. Basically, they are every predator's favorite snack and their lot in life is to bear this knowledge throughout their sadly brief lifespans.
After the peaceful little intermezzo at the N'Kaya, I returned to the main road. Now, I'm not a very good map reader, but I was certain I'd gone a bit farther south than I really had, so when I made a right turn, I thought I was just doing a little detour. In reality, I was taking the S125, which would lead to endless miles of more gravel road before deposing me at either Satara or Skukuza. If I knew, I would never in a million years have considered going on it, but it was a blessing that I did. Because half a mile in I met a guy who could tell me that just down the road there were two lions eating a giraffe. Armed with more optic equipment than I could possibly understand, much less use in a lifetime, I sped on.
This was a road less traveled, and only three cars were there when I arrived. I drove past them and took up position at the back. The two lions were lying on the opposite banks of a dry riverbed, merrily gnawing away at a dead giraffe. I spent some time taking pics and again, it was as if I was standing right next to them. After a while, I turned the car around to maneuver a bit around to get more of a vantage point from a tiny hill behind me, not much more than a bump in the terrain.
Merrily gnawing away.
I think these three pics sum up the essence of catness.
It was then I discovered the rest of the pride; I could count about ten of them, just chillaxing in the shade, occasionally yawning, scratching or brushing away flies with their tails. They were perfectly aware of us, but had not a care in the world. I shot and shot and shot pics and gave thanks to Bob, the rain god for my new lens. In addition to the lions, I also discovered four little mongooses running up and down a dead tree right beside me and generally being the cutest little critters.
The rest of the pride.
What? You've never seen a sleeping cat before?
Note the vulture keeping a respectful, healthy distance.
Cute mongooses.
Finally, I drove on, stopping only to take a picture of a solitary giraffe with a bird on him (and once again to relieve some, ahem, pressure). After some time I met a couple going the other way who'd been with the lions when I first got there. They had been going down the S125 but had turned around because it was in such poor condition. Only then did it dawn on me that I was not on the small detour, but was heading for hours of kidney-rattling misery. I thanked them profusely and turned around to follow them back to paved bliss.
Giraffe with bird.
Giraffe without bird.
I should like to take a moment to mention what utter joy it is to encounter the true bush folk. I count myself as one; we the few who revel in regaling our fellow travelers with stories of what can be seen and where. I treasure meeting others like me, getting the low-down on what roads to take, exchanging information and a few laughs. It is one of the nicest things about being in Kruger, apart from seeing the actual animals, of course.
As you can probably guess, I had been informing every car that would slow down on the S125 about the lions, and I did the same thing when I was back on the H1-3 as the paved road was named. I particularly remember an old guy who worked for a safari company. He had what looked like two very wealthy American tourists with him. They'd just been to see a huge baobab tree and were really excited to hear about the lions. The dimwits who just swooshed past, oblivious to anything but their own car and the road could find out on their own damn own.
Huge old baobab tree.
The fruit of a baobab.
I hadn't gone long before I spotted a solitary elephant heading through the grass. He was following a well-worn path and I was parked right in it. I cranked the lens up to max and fired away, then took it down a notch. He kept approaching, ears flapping in the heat. I kept shooting until he was fairly close, but as he showed no intention of stopping to pose, like I'd hoped he would, I had to get out of the way. I drove a few meters on and then turned around to get him from the side. He shot me a dirty look and then was gone in the bushes on the other side of the road. It was exhilarating, being this close to that giant animal.
Far off.
Yet so close with my new 600mm lens.
Giving me the evil eye.
However, I was not done yet with the pachyderms. Just before my intended lunching place, Tshokwane, I saw a whole bunch crossing a dirt road up to the local ranger station. I stopped and started shooting, but apparently, I was too close this time, or maybe one of the teenagers was just a hothead, because he started flapping his ears furiously and stomped the ground, clearly warning me. So I backed off a little. When they'd all crossed I drove past them and then turned around. None of the larger ones bat an eyelid.
She's got more important things on her mind than a stupid tourist.
At Tshokwane, I ordered either the wrong thing or the woman behind the desk thought I looked like I needed a double helping of kudu sausage. As I was waiting for the food to be prepared, I watched as a vervet monkey swooped down and stole bits of a muffin right out of the hand of an utterly shocked tourist who spilled coffee all over himself in the process. Afterwards he passed me and mumbled "don't feed the monkeys, they'll just feed themselves", so at least he had some humor about it. I also gave away the last kudu sausage to a guy who at first protesteth too much, then accepted with a guilty look on his face.
Cheeky little fuckers.
After lunch, I drove north for three clicks, then went southeast on the Orpen Dam loop, an 11-12 km road. First, I encountered yet another group of ellies, and dutifully took some pics. Then followed a couple of groups of giraffes, but I just couldn't be bothered. Then came a huge herd of Cape buffalo, there must have been 2-300 of them, scattered around on both sides of the road. They just stared at me, but it was too hot to get angry, so I got away with stopping to take pictures. Some of them were so close I could have reached out an arm and touched them, if I didn't insist on keeping both life and limb intact.
The scenery's nice around Tshokwane.
Yeah, I can't compete with that.
Close up of young ellie.
Ellie baby!
There were a couple hundred of these on both sides of the road.
Giving me a skeptical look.
I call this pic "The Leader of the Pack".
A little farther down the road, I came to Orpen Dam, where there was a hide, where people could exit their cars and take pics. Again, I used my awesome lens power to take pics of some hippos off in the distance; with my old camera, they would have been mere specs. I also got in a croc and two birds. I noticed some people staring at the lens and I got to talking shop with a South African who'd been to Kruger many times and had a lens with equal firepower. However, seeing as how he was a birdwatcher I soon extracted myself from the conversation and went off in search of a wall I could bang my head against. Honestly, birdwatchers are one notch below trainspotters in my book.
Hungry, hungry hippo.
Soldiering on, I took a couple of small detours that weren’t even on the map. One netted me a very confused, very annoyed warthog, who thought he had the empty pond to himself to play around in the mud. When he saw me coming, he first tried to hide behind a bush. I turned off my engine and that lured him out, but when he discovered I was still there, he took off in a huff, tail up in the air.
What? Still there? But I went behind a bush and couldn't see him?!?!
Maybe if I duck my head.
Must take evasive action!
Arrrrrrrrrrrrgh!
I finally reached the Skukuza area, but before going into camp, I decided to take the Marula loop we'd taken the year before, where I'd spotted three lions in a dry riverbed. No lions were to be found this time, but I did get me two lovesick giraffes canoodling down the road. A few passing kudus even made a guest appearance. (Note: I have since realized that they were two males engaging in a "necking" ritual to establish dominance. Bummer.)
Guest appearance by Mr. Kudu.
I then crossed first the Sand and then the Sabie rivers, both reduced to a mere trickle. At the last passing, I shot a glance down a small creek and I swear there was a crocodile in exactly the same spot as last year. I saw some more giraffes, baboons and kudus but my heart was now set on Skukuza. I finished off with an early dinner (a good pepper steak), then relaxed in my cabin and later had a late dinner (a very good chicken), because why not.
Yellow-billed hornbill. Possibly the dumbest animal ever. Even a fly knows to evade things coming at it, but I almost ran over several of these birds, just sitting in the middle of the road.
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