Privilege within a Privilege
As
one born of wanderlust, I have been fortunate to travel to many different parts
of the world. I have travelled from Scandanavia to Singapore and San Francisco,
have bowed my head in cathedrals and temples in Europe, have been up close to
calving glaciers in Alaska, caught my breath at the edge of the Grand Canyon, paid
homage to the source of the Nile at the border between Uganda and Rwanda,
driven through indigenous forest of Sierra Leone during war and walked in peace
on the white shores of Zanzibar. But I count this as one of the greatest
privileges of a charmed life – sitting here writing these words from the deck
of a canvas tent facing onto the Timbitene Plains in the Kruger National Park.
Larger
than many countries, the Kruger National Park has been preserved for decades as
a wildlife sanctuary, protected by strict conservation laws from incessant
human development. From this very deck where I sit I can witness nature
interact uninterrupted, often unaware of my presence from this low
environmental impact tent. Plains Tented Camp is set within the Timbetene
concession, a privilege within a privilege, as the general public do not have
access to this quieter area of the park. There are no tarred roads here, no
shops, no cell phone towers or wifi. This is as authentic a safari experience
as it gets.
The
tents are erected on wooden platforms, nestled into the forest at the edge of
an open plain which looks out onto a waterhole. They are full canvas, though
glamping this is none-the-less, with proper beds and full bathrooms. The towels
are thick, white and the size of blankets. A beautiful copper basin is set
against a gnarled trunk, and the shower has open netted canvas all around onto
bush views. Earlier I watched a Paradise Flycatcher munch his breakfast right
next to the tent while I showered.
Now
from my nature-hide deck I look up again from my pontificating because of a
loud trumpeting. A memory of elephants has just paraded in from the left to the
waterhole in front of my tent for their midday drink. There is a small baby
elephant, too short to reach the water though he tries to be big. His kindly
mother gives him a gentle shower. The teenagers think this is great fun and
spray themselves and each other.
I
take a mental image of the row of fat elephant bums lined up at the water and
store this gifted moment in my travel journal, with a sigh of silent gratitude
for all that has been and that has led me here.
Accommodation Experience
In
the words of MacBeth, “ ‘Twere a rough night”. At first I fell immediately to
sleep after the exhilaration of the game drive and satisfying dinner. The bed
here at Plains Tented Camp is so comfortable – the perfect softness, with white
cotton linen and the cozy sense of being under canvas under African skies.
But
no sooner had I fallen asleep when I woke with a “What the ….?” to the
unmistakable sounds of lions mating right near the tent. Now lion stamina is
legendary, so this continued every 20 minutes well into the night. At one point
I swear another lion couple started up in tandem further across the plains!
Just
as the lion couples finally finished their show, a particularly musical hyena
takes over and enthralls me with his whooping howls. I take inventory of the
other sounds, and heard a Night Jar, an owl and a suicidal antelope munching
the grass along the side of my tent. Sleep is for the birds, I decide, this is
all too exciting.
This
is no bland hotel with time-limited experiences of canned game – here you
really are on safari in the most authentic way, closely connected to the
immediate wilds of Africa 24 hours of the day. I know from here on I will be
well disappointed with a good night’s sleep in a concrete box-shaped room.
Towards
morning though, sleep finally claims me. I wake again at 5am to the sound of
endangered Ground Hornbills’ haunting dawn lament as they move slowly across
the plains, foraging for their breakfast. “Doo doo doo-doo” calls one. “Dow dow
dow dow-dow,” the other replies. I smile and snooze lightly, appreciating this
gentle wake-up call. ‘ “Doo doo doo-doo,”…”Dow dow dow dow-dow” I whisper.
To listen to the recorded sound of Ground Hornbills, click on this link:
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