Power and beauty of Africa

DUMA TAU: RARE COMBINATION OF LUXURY AND UNSPOILED BUSH TEEMING WITH GAME

The camp is located in the private Linyanti Wildlife Reserve in Botswana.

Nowhere else in the world will you find thunderstorms like you do in sub-tropical Africa: The towering anvil-shaped cumulo-nimbus thunderheads, shot through with the flaming phosphorous of lightning, dwarf everything below them.

Sensible creatures look for shelter at a time like this. We are not sensible. We are in a metal boat (yes, the sort of thing beloved by lightning bolts) speeding across an expanse of water (another favourite hunting ground of lightning) as darkness falls – and so quickly you’d think it is also trying to get out of the way of the approaching storm.

The clouds form ominous mountains, canyons and gorges in the sky; first grey, then blue, then black as the ferocity of the weather tries to force the light from the sky.

The unspoken question in the minds of the five of us on the boat is: Will we make it? And, can we out-run it?

We are still a few kilometres away on the Linyanti River from our sanctuary at Duma Tau, the tented Wilderness Safaris’ camp right at the northern end of Botswana, close to the border with Namibia. We are moving fast – but so is the storm.

Then we slow to a doggy paddle tempo as we nose through a weed-choked channel (this is the Linyanti Swamps, after all) seeking open water. A couple of hours previously, we were captivated by the bright plumage of the Purple Gallinule as it tip-toed through the dense mat, relying on its wide-footed legs to keep upright.

We took in an elephant bull on the northern side of Osprey Lagoon, with Namibia behind him.

And we marveled at the lumbering, then graceful, take-off and flight of a pelican.

This place absolutely bursts with life. But now, our eyes are on that storm. And, even as we watch, we can see it has already outstripped our boat and is moving to the north of Duma Tau.

We now know we will be okay and, as if to confirm our good fortune, the sun begins a spectacular fight-back against the clouds, splashing pink and red flame across the sky and illuminating the bellies of the cumulo-nimbus with bright, white light.

It is a light show the likes of which none of us – all “old hands” at safaris and African beauty – have seen before.

Our senses drink it all in, the only sounds being the clicks and whirrs of cameras as we record it, knowing the folks back home won’t believe it; that they’ll think we Photo-Shopped it to make it more impressive.

Storms and sunsets are always richer and more potent when they occur in the open; when vast plains or bodies of water provide a humble stage. But this resets the awesome meter for most of us. Bucket list moment? Tick.

And, the surprise is that I am surprised. I had come to this remote northern part of Botswana expecting to be rocked back on my heels by the richness and variety of the game viewing on offer, but it is this amazing light show which comes as a memory-making bonus.

Back at the bar in the lounge area of Duma Tau, one of us concocts his own “Swamp Cocktail”, with the always-willing help of camp staff. It’s not that bad; I’ll have one of those! As the sweet alcoholic brew slides down our

throats, we look out across the Duma Tau jetty, which is laid with torches out to a central fire hearth. In the distance, the Namibian storm hasn’t given up and lightning bolts are angrily being thrown around.

There is a word which sums up this day: Privileged. We are privileged to experience the power and beauty of Africa.

That power, and that beauty – albeit the cruel, kill-or-be-killed, eat-or-be-eaten kind – is in evidence the following morning as guide Evans Keowetse uses his fine bush anticipation to follow some wild dogs in the game viewing vehicle.

Earlier, we had almost walked right up to a wild dog, hidden behind an anthill in the dense, rain-boosted vegetation. It had run off down one of the roads and then came back, allowing me to get a hasty few frames as it darted by. Fantastic! I have never photographed a wild dog on foot before.

I am patting myself metaphorically on the back when Evans motions us on to the vehicle (after a two-hour-long bush walk – itself a fascinating, and strangely relaxing experience, despite the presence of wild animals and the .458 large calibre hunting rifle Evans carries as insurance).

He thinks the dogs are still in the area and we go looking for them. Evans has an extra pair of experienced eyes on the vehicle: Wilderness Safaris’ Lesh Moiteela, the organisation’s culture ambassador and community relationship manager is also a trained guide. Between them, they find two dogs and we follow them in a circular route which ends up back at the road.

Suddenly, Evans is alert and points the vehicle up the road. As we round the corner, we see we are perhaps seconds too late to see the young wild dog killing a baby impala. By the time we stop, the bloody-toothed dog is already ripping into the carcass, whose sightless eyes confirm the worst.

As we sit and watch, the dog makes strange, high-pitched calling sounds and soon, it is joined by one of its siblings and they feast together, growling and keening as they bolt down chunks of meat.

Wild dog are highly sociable animals; they live together (in a matriarchal society) and hunt together in packs … and they look out for each other. They are more successful hunters than lions because of this deadly team work.

There’s that word again: Privilege. It is a privilege to see this, tragic and awful as it may be for the impala. Wild dogs are some of the most highly endangered creatures in Africa; but here in the remoteness of the Linyanti – far away from the encroachments of humankind – they are thriving.

Thank you Evans. Thank you, Wilderness Safaris.

Duma Tau is located in the private Linyanti Wildlife Reserve in Botswana, which borders the Chobe National Park.

It is smack in the middle of one of Africa’s most fascinating waterways. The Cuando River rises in central Angola and flows south east, along the border with Zambia, before entering the Caprivi area of Namibia. As it crosses the Caprivi into Botswana, the river – now known as the Linyanti – forms the border between the two countries, slowing into a meandering snake which is clothed in reed beds. In ancient times, the river continued to flow south, merging with the Okavango River and emptying into Lake Makgadigadi. A huge geological disturbance saw uplifting of the Earth which made the Linyanti change its course through an extraordinary 90 degrees, to head northwest. As it heads in that direction, the river is known as the Chobe, which eventually flows into the Zambezi.

When the rains are heavy, both in Angola as well as in Zambia, Namibia and Botswana, and the Zambezi is flowing high, the Chobe and Linyanti back up into the Linyanti Swamps and sometimes even further up the Savuti Chanel, which is only a few kilometres from Duma Tau camp.

The Savuti can go for decades without seeing any water, so it is, again, a privilege to see it flowing.

The last time I saw it, back in the 1980s, it was a de- sert and it is difficult to believe this is the same place. Game activity is also frenetic and the area in which Duma Tau is situated has two major elephant migration routes. In addition, the wildlife is free to roam, because the governments of Botswana, Namibia, Angola, Zimbabwe and Zambia have set up the Kavango-Zambezi Transfrontier Conservation Area to ensure the wild spaces are protected.

As I lie in the tent at Duma Tau at night, on the verge of sleep on a luxurious king-size bed, I have a lullaby of hippos and a nightlight of lightning on the horizon – and I know the fish eagles will be my alarm clock in the morning. Now that’s a privilege …

There is a word which sums up this day: Privileged