Kruger Backpack Trail…
Thick, low and driven by a strong South Easterly Trade Wind, the cloudy ceiling sped almost as fast as we were, driving to Ribye for our drop-off.
The next 72hrs will be spent exploring part of a vast 150 000ha Wilderness-block West of Shingwedzi, the only amenities will be whatever we can carry on our backs.
This massive cold-front was going to add to our challenges as we have decided to sleep under the stars and not use the tents...each person being assigned a slot to stand guard while the others slept. Being so exposed will allow the beating wind to drive blasts of icy air down any opening in our sleeping-bags, but we unanimously concurred that it was what we wanted.
After the vehicle departed, leaving us on the Mphongolo Loop tourist road, we quickly donned our packs and scampered down the bank to sink out of sight from passers by. With the pre-trail brief done and all saddled up, we crossed over and started heading West to reach our intended campsite at a geothermal spring called Matilayovila (water that boils) which was only about 3.5km away. Immediately we encountered very fresh dung and spoor of a breeding herd of ele which were roughly heading in the same direction as we were...sort of. Following the spoor it started curving to the left but we decided to stick with it even after we lost the tracks a little further down the way. Up ahead we noticed a riverbed indicated by large green trees and agreed to walk until there and then decide again. With no additional sign of the herd, we reached the riverbank where it started to drizzle ever so lightly, the wind whipping up the droplets to dampen everything. Being a block I have not walked before, I popped out the GPS to orientate and plan while we took a break under a huge Leadwood Tree.
At that moment however a tourist vehicle drove past on the opposite bank of the river... Slightly confused I checked our location and was rather surprised to discover that we had ended up curving all the way East instead of West, which landed us back on the Mphongolo! Now our campsite was 6km away and back the way we had just come.
Pride swallowed and bearing readjusted, we marched on through the scrub Mopane. Conscious of our previous deviation, I made regular checks on my compass only to constantly finding that I was favouring left. What became quite clear to me was that my usual solid orientation and instinctive navigation was solar-powered. The cloud cover neutralised my internal magnet and it was very disconcerting.
Suddenly I had to distrust the one thing which I have come to trust when faced with adversity...myself.
Embracing reliance on technology was counterintuitive and made me feel inadequate, bloody hell I am a GUIDE!
Accepting defeat after the umpteenth time of being corrected by the compass, things settled into a rhythm and we neared our destination.
A shrill scream pierced the chilly air from somewhere ahead of us, an upset young elephant. Paying attention to the wind direction to not betray our approach, we skirted the area where we estimated the herd to be so as to avoid a direct hit.
Snap! A bright white tusk protruding through a Red Bush-willow just off to our left signalled that we should veer even more to the right. Luckily we managed to position ourselves in such a spot where we could watch the little herd gather around a single tree and all feed on various parts of it. They were none the wiser as to our presence though and finally we departed leaving them in peace and quiet. A few more times we were jolted by sudden explosive trunk snorts from eles hidden in the thickets as they were feeding, but no confrontations resulted in our passage.
A row of tall dark green trees ahead were indicative of where Matiovila poured its heated liquid out into a small drainageline. Weaving our way through the multitude of trees making our way upstream, we were almost at the eye when we heard the unmistakeable shrieks of oxpeckers! These ectoparasite-eating birds are excellent indicators of hippo, buffalo, rhino and other large-bodied animals and one of a Wilderness Guide’s best EWS’s (Early Warning Systems). Stopping in our tracks to scrutinise the thick bush along the stream, I opted for a revised route and slanted to the right to skirt the cluster up ahead. As we stepped forward there was an percussive expulsion of air from the depths of a daggaboys' lungs! Thundering hooves quickly alluded to his direction of departure and we sighed in relief.
Right there in front of us was a shallow depression in the deep fertile soil, constantly bubbling as more water is forced to surface from their origins down below. A strong but tolerable sulphurous odour permeated the air leaving no doubt as to the origins of the water. Heated to a very pleasant temperature by geothermal influences, we could feel the glow from as far as 5m away.
We opted to set up camp under a canopy of Tamboti trees close-by but far enough not to disrupt those who came to drink.
By now the wind had started to subside and the clouds, although still thick, looked less menacing than before...hope set in that we could have a dry night. I was particularly hopeful as I have somehow misplaced the flysheet of my tent which left me oh so vulnerable. The next step would be to collect some wood for the fire needed to keep those doing stag, warm. With a suitable stack of branches, the fire was lit and we soon gathered around to warm ourselves. The unmistakable sweet scent of Tamboti wood swirled up in the smoke so we hurriedly shifted to all sit up-wind from the noxious fumes.
I took my cup of coffee, strolled over to the fountain and proceeded to soak my bare feet in the warmth of the bubbling water...what an experience!
My serenity was short-lived though as heavy hoof-falls interrupted an otherwise perfect spa treatment. Back under the Tamboti grove we noticed some eles approaching from further down, making their way towards the eye where at this moment the wind would give us away...and so it was. At detecting our scent the matriarch stopped dead in her tracks, lifted her head and flared her ears. Remaining silent and scanning her head from side to side to gather more intel, she eventually turned and lead the group further downstream to drink. A little later a single bull arrived but was unperturbed by our presence and drank and drank and drank.
Then it was dark and cold.
Time for bed and stag to start.
All but one were ensconced in warm sleepingbags and soon drifted off to the soft call of a wood-owl and hyaena way in the distance. A constant arrival and departure of thirsty throats ensued throughout the night with one or two interesting moments.
First up was an ele bull. I had positioned myself slightly to the side and with a tree trunk between the fire and my head so as to not blind me when I scan. A rustling of leaves alerted me to the approach of something large. Lifting my head I could just make out the silhouette of an ele standing not 15m away from where we lay. Scanning back to where our guard moved about, I realised he was blinded by his proximity to the fire. The ele stood frozen and finally as our sentry sat down, I lit the ele with my torch so as to alert everyone regarding his presence and also alert the ele of ours. He didn’t react one iota as the powerful beam bounced off his gleaming mud-blackened skin and only caught a fright and bolted off as I spoke to warn everyone.
Next up was a buffalo bull which also strolled to within 15m of where I was laying and didn’t react to the light either...but did so when someone spoke to warn me that the daggaboy was going to stand on my fingers...
Quite interesting that illuminating them did not scare them at all but the first audible evidence of the human voice alone was enough to send them reeling for safety.
The Eastern glow of a rising sun brought along with it, promise of a lovely day.
Another daggaboy or two appeared at the stream further down to quench their thirsts and we then followed suit as they departed. Today the clouds have lifted and I managed to maintain a steady SSE bearing which we set to include a somewhat out of the way point of interest. It is a place called Boomplaas (Tree Farm) on a sweeping bend in the Phugwane River.
Towering Mopane forest gently fading into more scrubby growth as we progressed South clearly spelled that we have left the water-rich zone of Matiovila behind. Alternating deep dark soils, lines or red clay and then deeper pale-coloured sandy soils from the granites all made for a rather interesting geological presence. Concomitant alternations in the plant- growth on each of these were vivid surface indicators of the subterranean borders.
Large patches covered in buffalo dung evidenced where a big herd settled down for a siesta, the sudden profusion of flies also confirmed that it was rather fresh!
After an hour or two walking through undulating scrub-veld, a colossal Nyalaberry tree came into view and stood head and shoulders above the other massive trees lining the Phugwane River in the distance. I immediately adjusted course making a bee-line for this majestic elder. A few impala and a giraffe scattered as we approached but we were all transfixed on this behemoth of a tree. Not scanning left or right and almost not blinking. Agape were our mouths when we finally slowed to a stop about 50m from the scene. Multi-stemmed, blotchy pale yellow bark and a dense crown of lush green leaves covering every bow to cast a shadow as large as I’ve ever seen, it stood proud in its magnificence.
We retired for lunch in the welcome shade and wished we could assimilate some of the wisdom such as what we felt was exuded by this tree.
Before we could say siesta the shrill scream of an upset ele came from across the river. Not moments later a whole herd stampeded downstream on the opposite bank visibly disturbed by something we could not see. Their grey bulk seemed rather dainty in the company of such a spectacle of riparian growth and in no time at all, they vanished.
At some point during one’s sojourns, you encounter certain locations which has a sense- of-place with an extraordinary soulful resonance, Boomplaas is one of those for me.
To merely gaze upon the textures of bark and leaves, the contours of trunks and riverbed, the expanded palette of greens, aroma of soils, seeds and wildlife as well as the sounds of rustling foliage, wind gusting through branches and creaking limbs, is to become intoxicated by its beauty. The tranquility of soul settles so deep that, at that moment in time, nothing can dislodge you from your sense of peace.
The only thing which is crystal clear and matters, is connectedness.
Too soon we started our Westward trek to find camp somewhere further upstream.
Sweat rolling down our brows and hats casting shade on our eyes, we wound our way through tall trees and scant bush. A lone daggaboy resting in the shade of a Magic Guarri bush slowly rose to his feet and trundled off, thankfully in the opposite direction.
We also skirted a small breeding herd of ele with a tiny little calf which couldn’t have been older than a month or two. Fortunately the wind was in our favour and we snuck past undetected.
Finding water was a pressing need by now as most have depleted the supply carried.
It is always a trade-off as water is so precious but yet so heavy. My consumption is slightly higher than the norm. Once on a day of 42C/108F, I drank 10L/2.6gal!
Used to carrying additional weight, I like packing 6L/1.6gal just to be sure.
Back to finding water.
Due to some late rain we had, there are numerous pools in the river but surface water is often rather polluted by animal waste and algae etc. Thus as is customary, we either dig for water in the sandy bed or preferably utilise the wells already dug by the elephants.
Pushing along till we found fresh wells on a wide stretch of sand, we decided to call this camp. The holes dug using their feet and trunks can reach a depth of 1.8m and these were almost that. Way down below we could see the clear fresh water waiting to be scooped. Before we can do that however, we have to use our hands to excavate a larger entrance to allow us to kneel down right next to the water without collapsing the sides. This done, our next step is to collect a few flat stones to line the sides and bottom to keep the sand at bay when we scoop. Once there is structural integrity, we proceed to quickly scoop water out and flinging it aside to allow new water to seep through. With every emptying the new inflow becomes increasingly clearer until it is like a crisp mountain stream. Then only is it time to fill all receptacles and slake our thirst with beautiful tasty water.
While we were busy prepping our well, a large herd of eles descended into the river just upstream from us to have their sundowner. Having arrived early enough, we left our bags at the well and set off on a sunset stroll to the South. We had not gone far when we heard the distant rasping cough of a leopard slightly to the South East of us...we went to investigate. Quickly pacing to decrease distance and bearing down on where we heard the call, we soon came to a patch with scrubby Mopane along a small tributary of the Phugwane where we halted to listen. Hoping to hear another call to triangulate its location, we stood in silence. Seconds felt like minutes and minutes like hours...and the sun had already dropped below the horizon... Abandoning our quest due to lack of light and not wanting to get caught out in the dark by herds of elephant and the like, we turned and made for camp. Just then another much louder and closer call! We froze mid-stride to carefully listen and find the new bearing, then quickly but quietly moved to where we had cover but visibility onto the area where the call came from. It was a perfect set-up with us hidden behind a shrub and a clear view up the slope to where it opened slightly. Thus if we were lucky and the leopard walked our way, we would see it.
With pounding hearts racing with adrenaline we waited...and waited...but nothing!
Cherrr! Cherrr! Cherrr! panicked the francolins in the distance, DAMN, the leopard was walking the other way! We hurried closer to where the birds were alarming but by the time we got to see them, some impala further ahead started snorting in protest, it’s slipping away! As we were about to rush forward again the leopard rasped again and it was not more than 30m ahead of us. As quietly as it is possible for 9 people to scurry through the dry undergrowth we made for the riverbank now only 100m distant.
The anticipation started turning into despair when we didn’t hear another call.
We deduced that the leopard must’ve heard or seen us and went clandestine.
Well despite not getting a sighting, it was nonetheless a very exciting little sojourn.
But now we HAD to rush back to camp as dusk was upon us.
Settling down in the middle of the riverbed promised a slightly cooler night and due to less cloud cover even more so. Being more open though we only heard hyaena, leopard and a few owls but no sightings were had during stag.
Gathering around the fire at dawn to ward off the chill, we slowly started with a cuppa followed by packing up. By the time we were ready to stroll the worst of the cold had dissipated and we were set for another lovely day.
Just upstream from where we camped we passed the spot where that large breeding herd of ele drank the day before, it was a glassy pool of water the size of a rugby-field covered in water-lilies and teeming with birdlife. Like a little paradise it soothed our eyes and remained etched in our minds for a few kilometers thereafter.
Soon we found ourselves perched on a sheer 15m cliff where the floods of 2012/3 had scoured away the bank. Deep dark red soils caved away and in the process exposed the intricate root-stocks of some Mopane trees now precariously clinging to existence. We lingered a little before setting off on our Westward trek to reach Phugwane Cliffs where there should be water and a good camping site.
The warmer temperatures started wearing us down so regular breaks in the shade of pretty trees were called for. The incessant alarm calls of impala brought us to a grinding halt as they emanated from directly across the river from where we were. The decision was made to sit under the large Marula tree and wait. Rushing towards the calls would probably only betray our presence and with it being rather warm, we reasoned that whatever it was, it would likely come to the pools in the river to drink. We waited...
As before this strategy again didn’t pay off! Frustrated we crossed the river and ventured to where the impala were still calling 15min later. Even after spotting the impala we still didn’t see any sign of anything which is a sure indicator that it was possibly a leopard. So we pushed on.
Cutting a corner in the river, the trail lead us through the hinterland where few large trees were to be found. The sun now beating down took its toll and just managing to reach the next bend in the river, we were looking for water and a lunch-spot when an ele bull interrupted our quest. He was drinking from a well next to one of the pools but finished and walked up the bank before we got to him. We then opted for a deep shady sandy bank to stop for lunch and a siesta. It didn’t take long for everyone to fill their tummies and lay down for a quick 10min snooze.
Fortunately Phugwane Cliffs were only 2km further up and we covered that quickly, arriving at the Granitic cliffs which abuts a large deep pool in a 90degree bend in the river course. A very large crocodile slowly retreated into the depths as it noticed our approach.
We also saw a kudu bull carcass on the edge of the water with heaps of hyaena and leopard spoor surrounding it. Again we were interrupted by an ele bull which was walking upstream away from the pool. Quickly dumping our backpacks against the bank, we scaled the Southern bank and paralleled the bull as he sauntered in the sand. The wind was in our favour but not so the sun, casting bright light on us from time to time as we snaked through the vegetation. With a stern warning to follow my lead and keep movements to a minimum and as slow as possible, we crept up on the bull now digging a well to drink. Finding a suitable vantage-point behind enough cover, we watched him as he excavated, sucking up turbid water and expelling it repeatedly until clear, before downing his full quota. As he turned and stood silently for a long moment, we decided not to overstay our welcome and slowly departed back to the packs.
As is customary, I kept my eye on the bull as we retreated and noticed he was slowly making his way back towards where we were going. As we got to our backpacks he was now approaching them too so we scampered up the bank again and hid under a dense canopy of Russet Bush-willow. The bull swaggered till within 15m of the packs, which were in the open bright sunlight now, but then grinded to a halt as he saw them. Uncertain of things and probably catching a whiff of us via the packs, he slowly turned and walked up the opposite bank before vanishing.
We thanked the ele for digging a well for us and set up camp next to it.
Now a cloudless clear night with no wind, we knew it would be the coldest yet, and so it was. Another consequence of sleeping exposed like this in winter, is dew. When we camped under the Tamboti trees at Matiovila, it forms an umbrella trapping the radiating heat at night and increases the temperature slightly, which eliminates dew completely. We accepted this fate and settled in around the fire.
Usually I dissuade my guests from making fire as it is a double-edged sword (more about this another time as this is already longer than anticipated!). Being winter however and doing stag, a fire is a very convenient companion in the freezing small hours.
Vocalisation of a large male leopard kept going the whole night, hyaena also did their part and the owls didn’t disappoint either. Somewhere during the night I woke from the sound of stampeding hooves, a small group of buffalo bulls descended into the river close enough to catch a fright when they saw us and ran off.
A lazy peaceful dawn saw us drinking coffee, quietly chatting, lounging in the sand and sunning our damp sleepingbags.
Suddenly we heard a distant rush. Looking up we saw a pair of African Hawk-Eagles take to the skies. The vigorous rustling of leaves increased in intensity and way off we could see the trees starting to sway. In silence we watched and listened as a gust approached with powerful force. BAM! In the face we were hit by a burst of air as the wave rolled over us and onwards...
Before we could say “backpack trail”, it was time to break camp one last time and make for the pick-up point.
As I’m writing this in the dark at my desk, my backpack is already in the Landy for tomorrow’s trail...it truly is the ultimate in autonomous hiking and emancipation from all the distractions of modernity. I can not recommend you enough to one day come and experience this activity with me!
Yours in Wilderness