THAT GOOSEBUMP WILDERNESS FEELING
We’d set up camp near the base of the Chilojo Cliffs, where the broad Runde River turns north to meet the Save River. Tired from the hot day, we drank cold beers and sizzled our meat on a mopane wood fire. Soon we fell asleep on our stretchers under a sparkling celestial ceiling. But not for long. The night’s silence was cracked wide open by a succession of baritone roars. My deep dreams ended abruptly as adrenaline surged through my body. I shone a torch in the direction of the sound. A large male lion stood 30 metres away. Slowly he walked towards us with predatory entitlement. We quickly stoked the fire and flames shot into the sky. The big cat stopped a few metres away, then fortunately lost interest and walked down into the dry riverbed, leaving us for the night. Sleep came surprisingly easily again, and at dawn we woke to three elephant bulls feeding on branches of a nearby apple-leaf tree, the leaves falling like confetti around us. Unlike the lion, the elephants ignored us and focused on their breakfast. I lay in my sleeping bag and watched them, then turned to admire the first rays of sun bursting into the sky above the Chilojo Cliffs. The red sandstone ramparts are spectacular, and shone luminously in the early morning light. It’s these visceral interactions with wilderness that make a visit to Gonarezhou special – and rare, in this increasingly commercial era of wildlife tourism. The park lies just across the border from well-trodden Kruger in South Africa, but it’s another world. There are no tar roads, fenced campsites or shops here. The park’s rugged terrain, poor roads and remote location give it an aloof allure. It’s a difficult place to get to, and to explore. Damn right. But it’s worth it.