62 KGALAGADI
Because of the heat, the Kgalagadi Transfrontier Park is a winter destination for most people. Not so for PJ Schwikkard, who travelled to the park at the height of summer in search of busy waterholes and uncrowded campsites.
Reader PJ Schwikkard didn’t let extreme temperatures put her off. She visited the Kgalagadi Transfrontier Park in summer and saw some amazing animal action.
Kgalagadi magic can be found at any time of year. Although midsummer is the time when most people take leave, it's also when you're most likely to find a booking in the park. It's a summer rainfall region, but when we visited early in January there was very little water and the waterholes were a reliable source of delight. If you melt at 40° C, a midsummer visit is not for you: You'll turn to pure liquid. The main camps have air conditioning and swimming pools, the bush camps have neither, but a wet kikoi works wonders – whether used as an item of clothing or as a sheet. Most of the South African side of the Kgalagadi Transfrontier Park can be navigated in a normal SUV. The roads are dirt, usually corrugated or sandy, but manageable if driven slowly with low tyre pressure. Not so the Botswanan side, except for the two lodges on the Nossob. You need a 4x4 and enough camping gear to be self-sufficient.
This year we chose to enter the park on the Botswanan side at Mabuasehube. Botswanan
campsites vary in their level of facilities. The most basic is simply a sign that lets you know you’ve arrived at your campsite. You might find a long drop. Some people might prefer a long drop with a roof, but I prefer the open ones – the odours are less pungent. On the luxury end, your campsite might have a bucket shower (bring your own water) and the very best have everything: a sign, a long drop, a bucket shower and an A-frame shelter. Such a shelter comes with loads of added extras, like a resident mongoose or a family of ground squirrels, red-billed spurfowl and some big lions. If you happen to get a campsite with a lion, you might have to move next door because protesting that you booked and paid in advance will have no effect. The Mabuasehube section of the park is rich in game and the waterholes are consistently busy. Midday at Mpayathutlwa, we saw an incredibly diverse convention of raptors: white-headed and lappet-faced vultures, adult and juvenile bateleurs, a tawny eagle and a domineering secretarybird that appeared to make everybody else very nervous. My husband Roy and I have a lovely rooftop tent that allows us to open the roof panels and dream with the stars. On our first morning I was woken by a muffled grunt. Peering out of the side panel, I saw an exquisitely toned lioness. “Roy! Look!” I hissed. “There’s a lion outside my window!” I looked around and added: “There’s also one outside yours, and some behind us, and at the bottom of our ladder…” We froze every part of our bodies except our eyeballs as seven lionesses and two teenage cubs surrounded our tent. At that moment, I was very grateful for my husband’s insistence on a rooftop tent – something I once thought of as an inconvenience. The teenage cub at the bottom of our ladder shifted his gaze between us and the unsecured guy ropes of the awning, as if considering which would be the better chew toy. Thankfully his pride was intent on moving to the next campsite (Mabuasehube 3, about 200 m away) and we watched with binoculars as the occupants of a ground tent at MAB3 retreated swiftly to their vehicle to photograph the cubs chewing their tent. After the lions moved on with canvas-flossed teeth, we chatted to the other campers who had enjoyed their encounter tremendously. They wished us well for our journey to Matopi, where they’d met a “friendly” leopard at the entrance of their tent a few nights previously… Matopi is a halfway point on the access road between Mabuasehube and Nossob. We stayed at Matopi 1, which has some beautiful trees and a covered long drop. We were a bit sad to see five-litre plastic water bottles scattered around the campsite, however. Roy and I collected them and we settled down for some leopard spotting. We eventually turned in for the night, having seen only a pair of eyes in the distance that might or might not have belonged to a leopard. It was only when we got back to Cape Town that we learnt of some unsettling news: The night before we arrived at Matopi (4 January) the “friendly” leopard had attacked a sleeping camper in her tent, severely injuring her leg. Her party, driving on roads that are challenging in daylight, drove through the night and eventually got her to a hospital in Upington. I suspect that the plastic bottles that had made us sad were the result of an urgent departure. I also questioned my naivety. There’s no such thing as a friendly leopard. Beautiful, awe-inspiring – but not friendly.