Kruger: Punda Maria and Pafuri

Russell Cottage: the old police house at Punda Maria 

I have a new favourite place: the far north of the Kruger National Park. Most people think you have to go to the south if you really want to see the big game, but there's something quite magical about the area around Punda Maria for it's here that you will see the beautiful big trees of Africa, large herds of elephant and buffalo and maybe even an elusive leopard.

Male leopard on his morning patrol on the Mahonie Loop

That's just what we were lucky enough to see on a recent visit to the area. The Mahonie Loop is a 28km circular drive from Punda Maria that takes you through some beautiful countryside. I love it, not least because of the amazing trees that are special to that area. 

Trees on the Mahonie Loop taking on their autumnal colours

A young baobab tree with clouds in the background

If you're at Punda Maria, then you simply have to drive the road north to Pafuri, an area where the Luvuvhu River eventually joins up with the mightly Limpopo River. The Luvuvhu is a special place. It's where the National Geographic documentary called The Last Feast of the Crocodiles was filmed. The documentary tells the story of a pool gradually drying up during a terrible drought in 1991. Within the last few years, the Kruger has experienced similarly harsh conditions, but this time the north was spared the worst.

The Luvuvhu River

The Luvuvhu River is the archetypal African river, or at least the kind of river you dream about. It meanders slowly, murkily, muddily towards its rendezvous with the Limpopo. Huge trees tower alongside it where brightly coloured birds flash in the undergrowth. Crocodiles doze on the banks and elephant dung in the road is evidence that this is a life-giving source in this part of the world.

The north of the Kruger is famous for its elephant herds

If you drive the Luvuvhu River from the Pafuri picnic spot towards Crook's Corner you will traverse an area known as the Fever Tree Forest. These trees with their lime-green trunks were once associated with malaria, hence their name, but they are among the most beautiful trees of the African bush.

Fever Tree Forest on the road to Crook's Corner

This is a truly splendid road with many spots where you can pull over and observe the river and its rather wonderful birdlife: White-fronted bee-eaters, Verreaux's Eagle-Owl and the striking Saddle-billed Stork, to name but a few. Just take it slow and easy and soak it all in. 

White-fronted Bee-eater

Saddle-billed Stork

Verreaux's Eagle-owl

TIP: If you really want to experience the Kruger without the crowds, then the north is a must-visit area. The safari tents at Punda Maria are great, not least because they get regular visits from smaller creatures like spotted genets and bushbabies. I can't wait to go back.

Madi a Thavha Mountain Lodge: Butterflies and birdsong

At the turnoff to Madi a Thavha Mountain Lodge, a woman and her small boy were waiting for a lift - and we obliged. It turned out that they were heading the same way we were, up a slightly bumpy gravel road to this little retreat in the foothills of the Soutpansberg Mountains.

Vervet monkeys play on the stoep of the Fundudzi suite at Madi a Thavha

"I'm Confidence," said our hitchiker. "And this is Odwa." 
I liked that: Confidence Mudau, whom it turned out would be our housekeeper, introducing herself with confidence. It was a mark too of the place we were going to stay, one that is a Fair Trade tourism lodge actively engaged in bringing work and dignity to the local community.
Madi a Thavha means "water from the mountain". Another word might simply be "oasis"!
The lodge lies 10km west off Makhado (formerly Louis Trichardt), on the southern slopes of this northernmost mountain range in South Africa and about a four-hour drive from Gauteng.

View of the Soutpansberg from the lawn at Madi a Thavha

We were on route to the northern part of the Kruger National Park and wanted a self-catering place where we could chill out for a few days. I'd camped before in the Soutpansberg and was keen to return to this beautiful area.
I'd chosen Madi a Thavha purely on the recommendation of TripAdvisor, and because the website said they had an on-site gallery called the Dancing Fish featuring local Venda and Tsonga arts and crafts.If you were heading up to Beit Bridge on route to Zimbabwe, it would make an excellent stop. For those living in Gauteng, it would be a good hideout for a long weekend.
We stayed in Nwanedi, a suite which had its own little stoep looking out on the mountain slope. I'd wanted to book Fundudzi,  which has a more elevated stoep with an even better view but it was occupied.

Nwanedi's comfortable stoep and a place to make a fire.

Bedroom mural in the Nwanedi suite

The best thing about Madi a Thavha, however, is its sense of tranquility. We had two nights there and so ample time to explore the mountainside where you can take a relatively easy walk to see a baobab or scramble up to a waterfall (it was just a trickle when we were there, no doubt due to the protracted drought that has affected most of South Africa). 

Spot the embedded horseshoe

On our forest walks, we caught a glimpse of a couple of bushpigs, saw a buck creep across the path and I heard countless bird calls. Although forest birds are notoriously hard to spot, I identified the call of the black-headed oriole, the purple-crested turaco, the black-collared barbet, among others. In the distance, a pair of Verreaux's eagles soared along a ridge.

The baobab was impressive.

And rather magically, although the birds were being elusive, the forest was filled with many, many butterflies, few of which stopped in one place long enough to be photographed.

One of the many butterflies we saw

If you plan to visit, I'd recommend you take along a good book, a couple of bottles of good wine and stop in at Ackermans butchery on Rissik Street in Makhado to buy a steak or two to sling on the coals. Then you'd be all set!

Paperbark acacia in the foreground, mountains beyond...

Walking on the wild side: Nyalaland Wilderness Trail

I think we all have a primeval need to put ourselves in harm's way sometimes just to feel that little bit more alive. Why else would one choose to go walking in the Kruger National Park? And then keep going back again and again...

The view from the fly camp on the Luvuvhu River

This was my fourth trail in the park and the second time doing the Nyalaland Wilderness Trail in the far north. Not that any trail is really the same twice even though the drill is roughly the same. You spend three nights in the bush with two rangers looking after you and a cook who keeps you well fed. You sleep in tents or huts in proper beds with sheets and blankets. Ablutions might be basic but you'll get a hot shower after your exertions. 

Our tent was between an appleleaf and leadwood tree.

Each morning, you set off early for a walk of several hours (in this instance we were out for about five hours at a time) but the rangers spend a lot of time talking to you about what you're seeing and hearing. 

There is a chance of encountering dangerous animals, but for the most part it's about the little things - the birds, the bugs, the bush. We learnt about the intricacies of dung beetles, termite mounds and what a civet's midden looks like, among other things.

The previous time I'd been on the Nyalaland Trail, the camp was located away from the river around a giant baobab. A few years ago, this camp was flooded and so the present camp is a fly camp on the bank of the Luvuvhu River, west of Punda Maria. You know it's awesome when everyone on the back of the game vehicle bursts into spontaneous applause as you arrive at your destination. And for that extra little frisson, this camp was unfenced.

Our first night out we were treated to a display of fireflies flitting over the river. One even landed on my arm as we ate our dinner.

Leopard spoor was a regular sighting.

Our guides, Christopher Muthathi and David Nemukula, warned us that we shouldn't stray too far - they created an imaginary fence for us, pointing out a couple of bushes. Beyond that, we were not allowed to walk, nor were we to go down to the river unaccompanied, although some among our party swam in the rapids to cool off after the morning walk, under Christopher's watchful eye. That we had nocturnal visitors nearby was evidenced by the spoor we found in the mornings, the whooping calls of the hyenas at night and the telltale sawing of wood that is the leopard's bark.

One of our party quickly rustled up a water colour of the view from our camp.

On one evening walk, we were lucky enough to observe a herd of buffalo coming down to the river to drink.

The buffalo were on the far side of the river but nevertheless pretty nervous of us and soon pushed off in a cloud of dust.

One of our sundowners was from a view site high above the river. We could see the hippos below getting ready to leave the water to go grazing for the night. Some of the hippos had large fish nibbling around them.

In the afternoon, you go out again, but usually for a shorter outing with a sundowner. Here Christopher urged us to observe a moment of silence at sunset, just like our brethren the baboons would, I guess.

We were served a hearty brunches and even heartier suppers by Winston Hlungwani, son of the late Thomas Hlungwani who was the chef when I last did the Nyalaland trail.

Because you are on a wilderness trail, your rangers can take you on roads that are otherwise not open to the public. The Punda Maria area is known for its spectacular trees.

Among the magnificent trees of the area are many baobabs.

Early morning, and Christopher rallies us around. The idea is you walk in silence and you whistle if you want to stop to ask a question. While one ranger talks, the other goes ahead to scout for animals.

A golden orb spider with her elaborate larder was another opportunity to learn about the intricacies of nature.

And perhaps the most dangerous encounter of all, a puffadder quietly shared our picnic spot with us one morning - and was only discovered as we were packing up to leave. Fortunately, it chose to keep its peace, but it was a salutory reminder that we were truly in the wild and help was not immediately to hand.

Book a trail

There are eight wilderness trails in the Kruger, each as different as the next, and some more popular than others. Nyalaland is in a really scenic part of the park but is not known for its lions. This is rather elephant and buffalo country. For more information on the trails, visit the Kruger's activity link on the SANParks website.

Birding: My search for the Pel's fishing owl

On a philosophical level, when I eventually got to see the mythical Pel's fishing owl, it wasn't the sighting of the bird that moved me the most...

Pel's fishing owls like large trees next to slow-moving rivers

The Pel's is a curious bird: a large ginger owl that makes its living by catching fish in pools on slow-moving rivers in the far north-eastern part of South Africa, parts of Botswana and Zimbabwe. It's one of the Big Six of the Kruger, large charismatic birds that you fancifully can tick off like the Big Five of the mammal world. The other birds on the list are the martial eagle, the ground hornbill, the lappet-faced vulture, kori bustard and saddle-billed stork, all relatively easily spotted, unlike the Pel's. 

Tree magnificence

My first real effort at finding the owl was while on the Nyalaland wilderness trail near Punda Maria in the Kruger. Our guide took us to Crook's Corner (on the border of South Africa, Zimbabwe and Mozambique) where he said he'd seen the owl roosting close to the Limpopo River. Notwithstanding the fact that we were in buffalo country, he led us through chest-high grass to a clearing. All we found was a single ginger feather lying on the forest floor.

My next concerted effort was on yet another wilderness trail close to the Olifants River, also in the Kruger. Once again, the guides said they knew where a pair of owls roosted, but due to rather dramatic floods, the large trees in the area had been damaged, and there were hippos to worry about. Nevertheless, my ever-patient travel companions indulged me as we scoured the river bank. Everyone was rather relieved when we gave up that particular search and headed up the hill to more open country.

Then, most curious of all, a Pel's fishing owl turned up in Cape Town and in the garden of a friend where it had been feasting on her goldfish. Along with the rest of the birding fraternity, I duly spent a night on her veranda waiting for the owl to put in a return appearance, but by then it had moved off to the Spanish ambassador's garden in another part of the city, and shortly after was never to be seen again. The mystery of how it got to be so far out of its range was never solved.

The viewing deck at Guma Lagoon Camp in Botswana

Fourth time unlucky was in Botswana on the panhandle. We were staying at Guma Lagoon Camp and went out of an afternoon for the shortest of boat rides to an island the owl was said to inhabit. Nada.

Finally, looking in the right place

And then, finally, my luck changed. The exact location cannot be shared but this was my best chance yet. A first attempt at finding the owl one evening was to no avail, but I returned alone early the next morning. My expectations weren't high, given my record to date, until suddenly I saw a flash of orange as the owl was flushed from its daytime perch. It settled some distance away but I was able to get a good view through my binoculars.

Not the best picture ever but it didn't matter...

It was a bit too far for any decent photographs and I didn't want to spoil the moment fussing with my camera. Instead, I sat down on a fallen log to take it all in. I was surrounded by a kind of Pel's cathedral of riverine forest. All I could hear was the sound of my own breathing as a trail of ants picked their way through the leaf litter at my feet. I realised then that this search had not been so much about the owl, but about the all the places it had brought me to and the deep friendships that went with that. It was about those incredible trees that towered over me and the clean water the owl relied on. It was about the fragility of it all. I felt both uniquely privileged, and more than a little bereft that my hunt was finally over.

Still playing hard to get