TRAVEL
Into paradise
Ican’t help thinking that the people and animals of Tintswalo Lapalala had a motivational huddle before we arrived. It was, after all, early August; intraprovincial leisure travel was still forbidden, and the Waterberg, Limpopo, lodge had seen no guests for months. Picture safari manager Alistair Leuner, perhaps, taking the Al Pacino role from Any Given Sunday to rally the team.
“We’re in hell right now! We can stay here … or we can fight our way back.” Or maybe Matt Damon as Francois Pienaar in Invictus: “This is it. This is our destiny.” Whatever it was, it did feel like everyone was in on Mission Impress. And not just the staff, undeterred by the weirdness of hand-sanitiser and social distancing from laying on some old-friend-style hospitality, but the animals too.
Tintswalo, all discreet wooden platforms and camouflaged glam-tents, lies low on the 44,500ha Lapalala Wilderness Reserve, a gigantic space for the animals to roam, and yet we still managed to catch a near constant stream of action.
Not five minutes into our first drink on the main deck, two elephants appeared at the water hole, barely 30m ahead. We oohed and they flapped their ears as if to scoop up the sounds of our adoration. They must have missed this too.
By the time our lunch — Covid-safe, individually baked boboties — was over, we’d also had a mini-parade of warthogs and a triple-rhino sighting: mom, dad and baby casually milling by the water on dainty ballerina feet.
The lions chose the late-afternoon game drive to flex their muscles: first a pair who feigned boredom by flopping down next to the vehicle. Then — plot twist! — the male mounted the female. Lions’ fertility cycles vary widely, but the female will be in oestrus for only about three days, so this was a most excellent show. Let’s not dwell too much on how quickly it was over.
“That’s lions for you,” said ranger
Corne Engelbrecht, clearly pleased with the team effort thus far.
Meanwhile, just across the Palala River, from which the reserve takes its name, another lioness picked her way across the rocks with four cubs close behind.
The humans rounded out the day’s score with surprise sundowners and snacks in a circle of lanterns, which grew brighter as the sun bled a line of deep orange across the mountains. Later, there would be dinner and deep pillows and the lions again, roaring in the dark. So you see, they can’t not have plotted to impress, and even on day 1, they knocked it out of the park.
HOW TO CATCH AN ELEPHANT
The main event and the real reason we were there, however, was scheduled for the next morning. An elephant bull was getting a new tracking collar and we were there to see it.
The first night’s dinner, therefore, had been preceded by a gathering in the lounge, where Lapalala’s biodiversity manager Hermann Müller tackled why collars have critics. If you’re a tourist looking for a lucky sighting, some say they’re cheating. Also, they ruin the aesthetics, and possibly hinder the animal.
Hermann’s counter is that, in a perfect world, there would be no fences. Reserves are already artificial worlds, whose goal is to preserve a part of the animals’ dwindling habitat. For the conservationists and scientists involved, information is king — and that’s the pro that outweighs all the cons.
Lapalala only started introducing elephants in 2018, and this particular bull arrived last year from the Marakele National
Park. As vet Annemieke Müller explained: “It’s very important for us to see how the animals behave on the reserve, where they move to, because other management decisions we take might be affected by that.”
As for the possible hindrance, this guy weighs 5.5t. The collar, at 14kg, would be like a human wearing an ear stud.
The riskiest part is getting the collar on. Because they want to avoid the elephants developing grudges against cars, the darting will be done from a helicopter. Only after the creature is unconscious will the team approach on land. But where and in what position it collapses is crucial. The opiates typically take 10 to 15 minutes to kick in, a fair window in which a drugged animal might wander into a perilous location: a steep hill, or into a river. Hence, no shots are ever fired within 5km of such places.
Second, it must fall in a position that keeps the airways clear. If it lands in what they call “sternal recumbency” — essentially forwards with its full weight on its chest — it could suffocate.
Finally, some unknown, pre-existing condition could cause a negative — sometimes lethal — reaction to the drugs.
In short, Hermann summarised, this is serious business and we must be prepared for things to go wrong.