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Irish Times
03-08-2025
- Irish Times
Big game energy in South Africa: I am struck by the palpable love South Africans have for their land
I am close enough to the lioness, lying in the shade beside her mate and cub, to observe how heavily she is breathing. Our guide explains that she has eaten so much that her stomach is pressing on her lungs. My spirit animal. I am on the first of three two-hour safaris traversing by Jeep Nambiti Private Game Reserve's 23,000 acres in KwaZulu-Natal, South Africa , genuinely entranced by the beauty of my surroundings. As a safari neophyte, I had no idea there was a hierarchy of wild animals to tick off your list on safari, in particular the Big Five of lion, elephant, rhinoceros, leopard and buffalo, so named as they were once the prime targets for trophy hunters. It means I wasn't bothered that I never saw a leopard, happy to swap for the cheetah and her cub who casually stroll past us early one morning. There is a treasure hunt feeling to proceedings as we travel, and the prizes keep coming. A party of zebras, their tails like rear windscreen wipers swishing flies away; hippos cooling off in a lake; rhinos – dehorned to deter poachers, a regrettable but effective conservation policy – munching nonchalantly, their ears like funnels, one pointing forward, the other back; buffalo caked in mud, known as 'Dagha Boys' after the mud Zulus built their huts with. READ MORE Cheetah and cub in Nambiti game reserve. Photograph: Martin Doyle Hippos chilling in Nambiti game reserve. Photograph: Martin Doyle Most memorably, we spend minutes watching a variety show of ostriches, rhinos, zebras, warthogs, wildebeest, eland and impala, grazing side by side, like a hopeful symbol of this rainbow nation. Our proximity feels like an absolute privilege. One of our party was convinced that they had seen an ellie (safari speak for an elephant) through their binoculars, but in the foreground was a spectacular waterfall and I was perfectly happy to drink that in, along with my gin and tonic – it was sundown, after all, and our driver has allowed a quick stop for a picnic, placing drinks and nibbles on the raised grille of the truck, complete with a batik tablecloth. Sundowner in Nambiti game reserve. Photograph: Martin Doyle At night our guide drove with one hand on the steering wheel, the other sweeping a searchlight back and forth, illuminating a snake coiled in the middle of the road and a group of ostriches huddled as if plotting mischief. Day two began before dawn to catch the animals on the move at night. Dawn itself is spectacular, the sun rising blood-orange over distant hills, the mist not yet burned off. Sunlight catches an eerie sea of cobwebs decorating bushes like a harbour full of sails. Driving over dirt roads is known as an African massage. As if nature has not provided enough bounty, the all-inclusive Cheetah Ridge resort is like a high-end hotel, with luxurious chalets (an outdoor shower is somehow more glamorous than an outdoor toilet would be), swimming pool and tennis court, restaurant-quality three-course lunches and dinners (a 1kg T-bone steak shared between two was a highlight), a cocktail bar and extensive wine list. We dine with the man in charge of the reserve and I am struck again by the palpable love South Africans have for their land and their faith in its future. [ Kerry's secrets: I thought I knew everything the Kingdom had to offer. I was wrong Opens in new window ] There is no direct flight between Dublin and South Africa, yet arriving in Johannesburg I am greeted by signs welcoming fans arriving to watch Leinster play the Bulls in Pretoria and the Sharks in Durban. Schoolboys in zebra-striped blazers and caps, combined with tan shorts, long socks and desert boots, are like a cross between Just William and Crocodile Dundee. I am already in safari mode. Durban is distinctive for its large Indian population. Apartheid is long gone but there is still social segregation, with districts dominated by Hindus, Muslims and black Africans. The white population has decamped to the suburbs and satellite cities such as Umhlanga, where we are staying. 'I'll buy you dinner if you see a white face,' says David, our Zulu guide, en route to the market in downtown Durban, where we stock up on cheap spices and vanilla pods. I am tempted by some bright knitted tops (could loud be my new look?) but beigely settle for a woven bowl. Dinner in the Oyster Box Hotel is an Indian buffet, enhanced by the view of the Indian Ocean and the swimming pool, its folded red and white parasols like miniatures of the lighthouse beyond. Eating out in South Africa, with its rich veld and vines, is a lot better value than at home. Durban's city hall and main post office are reminders of its imperial past, watched over by a flattering statue of Victoria, Queen and Empress, while a local reclines below. A striking war memorial, topped, unusually, with blue angels and a golden sun, is guarded to keep vagrants out. Such respect for a minority tradition feels significant. Two books by Irish historian Thomas Pakenham , The Boer War and The Scramble for Africa, are on sale at the used bookstall in the beautiful Durban Botanic Gardens, where a host of monkeys leap from branch to branch then scamper off. [ How Leonard Cohen fans are putting pressure on the Greek island of Hydra Opens in new window ] A dolphin cruise may not have delivered a single sighting, but the city skyline viewed from the ocean made the trip worthwhile. I had my doubts about surfing, but once assured I would not be out of my depth (at least in terms of sea level), I took to it like a duck to a pancake. My grizzled instructor, establishing I was left-handed, told me I was goofy. You ain't seen nothing yet, I thought. He showed us on the sand how to climb on the surfboard and leap to our feet. Or lumber, in my case. Once on water, I stuck to the horizontal and had a swell time, riding the waves to shore. My instructor didn't understand that after negotiating a half-dozen waves to get far enough out to surf back, I needed a breather. 'Get on the board, bruh' is my new mantra. Marco Cianfanelli's steel Nelson Mandela sculpture. Photograph: Martin Doyle We visit the Nelson Mandela Capture Site museum, near Howick, where the future president was arrested in 1962, leading to 27 years in prison. Marco Cianfanelli's sculpture of Mandela , made of steel rods, is magnificent. The black majority's struggle for equality and democracy is laid out in a fascinating series of exhibits and information panels. An Irish Times front page, among many others, marks Mandela's release. Basotho village in the Free State Basotho village musicians. Photograph: Martin Doyle Passing spectacular scenery and hawkers selling whips, we cross into the Free State, formerly the Orange Free State (insert Irish joke here), and visit the Basotho Cultural Experience, which is fun. A fiddler plays on the roof as we approach; the chief in his leopard-skin cloak and straw crown greets us before we visit the medicine man and sample some local delicacies. In a hut, I sit on a raised step – which turns out to be a table, but my host is too polite to say. Horse riding in the Golden Gate highlands Hiking in the Golden Gate highlands Our new base is Clarens, picture-postcard pretty with shops, restaurants and a microbrewery around a green. We go horse riding in the spectacular Golden Gate highlands, like something out of a western. The pace is gentle and relaxing, apart from a short stretch on a narrow ridge. My steed is mercifully more sure-footed than me. We hike to the Cathedral Cave, where the bravest of our party dives into a small pool, fully clothed. The locals call our mature guide Papa, which is sweet. Less so when our waiter calls me it. No tip for him. Later, we go zip lining, although I opt for archery – a lot more strenuous than darts. Would I go back? Absolutely. I still have to visit Cape Town, the Garden Route, the vineyards, the Drakensbergs and a township shebeen (Ireland's gift to the world). Martin Doyle was a guest of the South African Tourist Board Hilton Garden Inn Umhlanga Arch : B&B for two €105 Cheetah Ridge Lodge : From €450 for full board and never-ending drinks, including game drives for two people Mont d'Or hotel : From €93 B&B for two Whale and Dolphin Tours Durban : Private tour €18.40 Nelson Mandela Capture Site : Adult ticket €5.90 Basotho Cultural Experience : €3.90 Horse riding to the Cathedral Cave : €21 for two-hour ride Zip lining with Clarens Xtreme : €9.80
Telegraph
06-06-2025
- Telegraph
The risk of death is greater than safari goers would like to believe
There's a mistaken assumption that heavy rains halt play for most wildlife. But one thing I've learnt from my 50-plus safaris is that animals – particularly predators – are reliably unpredictable. My most recent uncomfortably close encounter occurred earlier this year during the height of Kenya's rainy season. Thick grey clouds had gathered over the luxury lodge where I was staying on the edge of the Maasai Mara, accelerating the onset of dusk. During daylight hours, it's generally considered safe to walk freely between rooms – even in unfenced areas – so with the sun still hovering above the horizon, I assumed a short dash to the communal dining area would be fine. As I left my fancy villa, furiously scrolling through emails on my phone, I heard a growl far louder than peals of thunder tearing across the plains. Looking up, I saw the back end of a lioness prowling through the undergrowth and I did exactly what I've always been told not to do – I turned around and ran. In reality, she was probably more terrified of the giant two-legged creature encroaching on her territory – but bumping into a big cat in Africa doesn't always end so well. On May 30, businessman Bernd Kebbel was mauled to death by a lioness as he stepped out of his tent to use the toilet. He was camping in Namibia's Hoanib Valley, a remote area where desert-adapted lions roam along seasonal riverbeds. I'd visited the region only two weeks previously and had been thrilled to spot a lion in a region historically ravaged by drought. According to a survey carried out by Namibia's Ministry of Environment, Forestry and Tourism (MEFT) in 2022/2023, there are less than 100 desert-adapted lions in the country, with numbers fluctuating due to human/wildlife conflict. That population declined further when Charlie, the lioness responsible for the attack, was shot dead by authorities. What happened to Mr Kebbel was tragic, but it's not the first time that foreigners have had fatal run-ins with animals. Last year, an American tourist was killed when an elephant charged their vehicle in Zambia's Kafue National Park. A month earlier, a Spanish traveller was trampled to death by a breeding herd when he stepped out of his car to take a photograph in a South African game reserve. As the safari industry continues to thrive and our appetite for wild encounters grows, our guards have dropped faster than the fences which once enclosed many camps. I've always been an advocate for opening up corridors, allowing elephant herds to follow traditional migratory routes and predator-prey dynamics to naturally evolve. But living alongside wildlife requires careful and cautious planning and as human populations continue to grow, that relationship hangs in a delicate balance. The real problem is not 'them' but 'us' and the safari industry is partly to blame. Cultivated by marketers eager to sell holidays, the romantic, Disneyfied notion of an idyllic wilderness is misguided. On countless game drives, I've watched vehicles edge uncomfortably close to potentially dangerous animals in the hope of getting a better iPhone photograph. There's also an assumption that booking a room in a five-star lodge gives us carte blanche to wander around freely as we would at home. Despite repeated warnings from staff, it's all too easy to switch off our senses – ironically detaching ourselves from an environment where we're encouraged to feel immersed. To their credit, many camps – like Angama Amboseli in Kenya and Dukes in Botswana – are attempting to educate travellers about the true struggles of human and wildlife co-existence. But due to a combination of complacency and over-confidence, too many have lost a healthy, respectful fear for the wild. Of course, not every creature in Africa's forests, plains and oceans is actively set on killing humans. Far from it. Most would prefer to be left to continue their lives undisturbed. But blurring the invisible boundaries which should exist between humans and wild animals can lead to fatal accidents. Every time I look into a lion's eyes, I shudder. Hearing their guttural roars outside my tent still sends me into shivers. That tingling fear is humbling – a reminder of the awesome wonders existing within our natural world. Several years ago, I joined a mobile safari through northern Namibia with the late conservationist Garth Owen Smith. One night, we camped on a dry riverbed, close to the Hoanib Valley. As we fell asleep, listening to lions roar, I asked Owen Smith why nobody had thought to pack a rifle for protection. 'Because we might be tempted to use it,' he replied matter-of-factly. Years later, his response makes total sense. Far more effective than bullets, fear, respect and caution are the greatest weapons we have to protect ourselves in a world which should always be alluringly but dangerously wild.
