4 NOT A TOURIST IN SIGHT (ALMOST)
Anthony believes Gonarezhou’s best feature is its lack of tourists. ‘It’s still off the tourism map. While there are other places in Africa that are also very wild, many of those are overrun with visitors.’ There are only three camps in this 5 000-squarekilometre park, with tented chalets or ‘developed’ campsites offering basic thatch-and-stone shelters and ablutions. The rest are just GPS co-ordinates on a map, with a long-drop toilet, and can only be used by one group at a time. All of these, 26 in total, are far from each other. ‘We think Gonarezhou is a secret success story,’ Hugo told me in his office at Chipinda Pools, near the northern entrance to the park. ‘But please, don’t tell that to anyone!’ About 7 000 visitors come to the park annually. This may seem paltry compared to Kruger’s one million, but just a decade ago almost no one visited. ‘Don’t get me wrong, I’m happy tourists are returning,’ he said, ‘but we didn’t anticipate how quickly this place would turn around.’ (See Back from the brink on page 86.) Near the end of our 10-day visit, Hugo and his wife Elsabe invited us to camp with them at the top of the Chilojo Cliffs. As the elephants have done every night in winter for thousands of years, they descended the escarpment via one of the few passes to quench their thirst at the Runde River below. The full moon rose. In prayerful silence we stood on top of the cliffs and watched several breeding herds negotiate the steep pass below us. A warm wind picked up and carried our whispers and wood-fire smoke away from the matriarchs. These elephants were doing what they’ve always done, oblivious to our presence. At Gonarezhou, you get the feeling that the animals are in charge. And as parks go, it is once again one of Southern Africa’s finest.