After a 42-day road trip around the South African frontier with one of my best friends, I decided I wanted to give this beautiful gift to my two closest girlfriends on their birthdays.

Planning the Road Trip

When I suggested it to them, they were excited. Part of the plan for the extended weekend was to hire a minibus; drive to Mapungubwe in Limpopo and spend the night in this national park and World Heritage Site; continue on down through the Kruger National Park; stay at a horse ranch near Kaapsehoop in Mpumalanga; then return to Johannesburg.

Unfortunately, one of our group, Tuki, couldn’t leave Johannesburg on the same day and could only meet us in Musina the next day.

Gathering Everyone Together in Gauteng

The road trip started without incident. Pat left early on his motorbike to collect the hired minibus at the airport and on his way back picked up Nonti; a buxom loudmouth who loves attention, but has a wonderfully kind heart.

After bidding her parents farewell, they rushed to fetch me in Houghton Estates and in the same vicinity we picked up Nonti’s boyfriend, Papie; a lively, small-framed musician with rising eyebrows and infectious laugh. The last stop was in Weltevreden Park where we collected Lucille (aka Loosi or Lui Lu), who had been waiting patiently even though we were running quite late.

Making our Way to Limpopo

We left Johannesburg that Friday morning in February with the morning sun rising over the horizon. Pat had designated himself the driver and cook for the weekend. We played music in the car, often singing along to the many tunes we knew by heart – no doubt having sang them to ourselves in front of the mirror.

The air-conditioning in the car didn’t quite live up to expectations so we took to drinking lots of water and juice; chatting non-stop as we were thrilled at our first road trip together. We arrived in the northernmost part of Limpopo in the late afternoon, just as the sun was setting to make way for the moon.

Enjoying the Beauty of Regal Mapungubwe

We had booked the Tshugulu Lodge, a beautiful restrained self-catering corner separated from the main part of the park. The entrance to the lodge was a few kilometres from the main gate and it was a little unnerving when we had to get out of the car and open the gate. The last time I had been there I saw a number of wild animals, including some of the B0ig-5 roaming quite freely.

After an eight hour drive, the sight of the thatched lodge set in a horseshoe of rock and built round a stone swimming pool was exactly what we needed. The blue waters of the pool looked inviting, but being city folk the extremely tranquillity of the bush surrounds was a bit disconcerting.  

Most of us raced from the car to the camp, unsure whether a big cat would jump out from the dense vegetation and high rocks. It was a wonderful first night. We swam in the warm waters, enjoyed a night braai, watched the stars in the blue black sky, always aware of the night sounds and the endless insect bites. When we went to bed, Loosi, Pat and I squeezed into one bed, while the lovers took the other room, which left three empty, albeit lovingly decorated rooms.

From Mapungubwe to Jail

When morning came it was as if there was a shift in the wind, except we hadn’t taken our compasses so fate would surprise us. The warm atmosphere and clear blue sky saw us joining a trio of women from the United Kingdom on a trek to the top of the hill where the royal homestead of Mapungubwe once existed.

I felt anxious that our guide was not carrying a gun (unlike the last time I had been there) as we snaked through the dry grass shouldered by tall kopjies and overwhelmed by screeching eagles and barking baboons.

A Road Trip Cursed

As I stood on the hilltop, watching an elephant stripping a tree trunk and in the far distance seeing the swirling waters of the Limpopo River, I felt peaceful yet strangely curious. Was I really standing where a king had once stood? Was I overlooking a cliff from where his disobedient subjects had been hurled? It felt powerful there, but I couldn’t really enjoy it as Tuki had arrived in Musina and was waiting for us.

To this day we all agree that once Tuki, a handsome young man and banking executive with a calm disposition, entered the picture the trip was cursed. We’ve made it very clear to him that, in the way of our forefathers, he has to appease the ancestors. You see, as we hurried to Musina we received a call from him to tell us he had been arrested and was being taken to the town’s police station.

The Missing Money in Musina

The story goes that as the bus to Zimbabwe left him at the local garage in town at dawn, he found himself standing next to two men of Pakistani origin. As the sun rose, a local hunter appeared and unbeknown to them was carrying R20 000. Leaving the money in the car he walked to the kiosk to get himself a drink.

When he returned the money was gone and his eyes fell on the dark trio sheltering under the awning. Immediately he called the police and insinuated they were either responsible or had witnessed the robbery and were saying nothing. While there were whites at the petrol station, these were not suspected.

When we arrived in this grimy, bustling town suffocated by stifling humidity, we saw a police van arriving at the station with Tuki sitting languidly between two officers.

The Irishman and the Hunter go to Prison

What occurred after would make any writer envious. Pat, his fiery Irish genes kicking in, went head-to-head with the unforgiving hunter. It was like the Anglo-Boer war all over again as the black people watched on humoured as the white men tore into each other like two pitbulls, teeth bared, spitting cuss words at each other.

While this was going on Nonti and Papie were astounded that there was an ‘illegal alien’, as the police stated, crouched under the counter where he was kicked every time a police officer walked past. And in the grounds other ‘aliens’ were roasting in zinc-sheeted cells while being fed only half-ripened avocados.

Arriving at the Kruger National Park

After a couple of hours of back-and-forth with the police and taking fingerprints, Tuki was released and we hightailed it to the Punda Maria gate. Excitement was high as we laughed and discussed the happenings of that morning, continually questioning Tuki on how he had gotten himself into trouble.

Tuki, always calm in the face of travesty, simply laughed off the incident and asked for a beer. The problem, of course, is that once you start drinking it’s very hard to stop. It makes things a little complicated when you’re in a national park filled with wild animals and there are no public toilets around. Illogically, Papie begged to be let out of the car to urinate in the bushes. Feeling sorry for him, Nonti offered him an empty plastic bottle and told him to use it.

After a few hours we arrived at Crook’s Corner within the park where we stretched our legs and admired the confluence of rivers and countries. The sun beat down furiously and despite the green overhangs, the air was humid. It was eerily quiet.

Journeying onward to Mopani

 We were tired and hungry and we longed to pull into a spot and just camp there. Space in the minibus suddenly seemed smaller and we ached to smoke. Just an hour earlier, Papie had flung his camera at everything that moved. Now it lay languidly at his side as he watched his girlfriend down her next cider.

Mopani Restcamp is probably one of the most pleasurable in the Kruger National Park. That night, while enjoying sundowners at the camp overlooking the dam and hearing the roars of emerging cats, we discussed our day then enjoyed a braai under a starry sky. We had been on the road for over ten hours.

I love visiting the national parks, but I do have one complaint. I understand if we’re checking out we have to be out of the camp at nine o’clock, but the staff arrive on your doorstep at eight o’clock, speak loudly and bang doors and gates to let you know your time is running out. At Mopani, the cleaning staff were already noisily busy as we tried to fry eggs.

Driving Slowly through the Kruger National Park

As the clock turned, we were again on the road. The music played softly in the background and the mood was cheerful. We laughed and made jokes, while Nonti started drinking; shortly joined by Loosi and the rest of us, other than Pat who was driving.

It was peaceful enough until we approached Skukuza and came across a young bull elephant. We were probably 200 metres from him, but he dominated his space so openly that it seemed like he was just a moment away from us. A white car had been in front of us and had somehow ducked past him, but he wasn’t letting us through. Flapping his ears in warning, he started advancing threateningly towards us.

The Elephant Charges

The screams and cries started.

‘Turn around, Pat,’ Loosi screamed.

‘What are you waiting for, Pat?’ I added, my blood pressure rising, ‘Turn the car around.’

Pat simply reversed a few hundred metres and waited. As if our voices were stuck in a vacuum, the driver seemed not to hear what we demanded. Before long, a bakkie had come up behind us, which made it now doubly difficult to make a u-turn on the narrow road. The bull, unaware of our panic, simply carried on charging angrily towards us. I started thinking of jumping out the car, even though I was aware that more danger lay outside the kombi than inside.

Loosi carried on screaming, threatening Pat, her cries now shrill and fearful. I merely imitated her panic, aware that the others seemed not in the slightest perturbed. When we talk about it now, Nonti admits that she was in shock and didn’t know what to say. Tuki simply tries to explain that making a u-turn was not plausible. Pat, in his calmest voice, while slowly reversing tried to tell us that there was no space in which to make a clean u-turn. We just kept on screaming as we watched this massive grey body move closer.

From One Thrill to Another

And then, just as suddenly as he had appeared, he disappeared into the bush. Loosi now has a fear of elephants that threatens any visits we might think of doing in the future.

Nonetheless, our next stop was at a wild horses camp near the small village of Kaapsehoop in the Mpumalanga Highlands. It’s charming and has its own novelty and is the only place in South Africa where wild horses run freely. The guesthouse is situated atop a high hill and to reach it we had to traverse rough, muddy forest trails. The view was astounding.

When we arrived we look on fearfully. It’s rather a small place. It doesn’t even look like a guesthouse. I asked Pat if he was sure this was the right place. I was not very trusting at that moment. We hoot, but no one comes to our rescue. There is no sound. Just as we are about to give up, a man comes into view.

Enjoying the Tranquility and Charm of Kaapsehoop

 He is far away - very far and for a moment we wonder if he is looking for us. It’s been raining and the air is humid. The mud is thick and the wheels of the car turn viciously in the thick brown mess. Finally, when he reaches us, the caretaker advises us we are in the right place, but it feels wrong after the luxury of the other accommodation.

I recoil at the fact that the toilet is outside. There are ancient artefacts adorning the walls and I almost expect a benevolent tannie to come out and ask us who we are and what we are doing here. But it is the owners who came to welcome us after we settled in.

It didn’t help that they foretold their arrival with two huskies who run into the house. Papie doesn’t take too kindly to this intrusion and locks himself in a room. Nonti is laughing, but she doesn’t forget to tell her boyfriend that he thought to protect himself before her wellbeing.  

Nevertheless, we spend our last night together in a space of tender camaraderie and fun. We light the fire in the lounge, take out a bottle of whiskey and tell stories that keep us laughing late into the night.

A Horse Ride in the Mpumalanga Highlands

It is a pleasant evening and the air is cool, but welcoming. We are separated from humanity in this vast expanse of forest and land. It is easy to breathe here, it’s fresh and inviting. When morning breaks we bathe and make our way to the stables where we’ll be going for a horse ride.

I have been on a horse before and I have also ridden elephants, but there is something about being a metre or two from the ground. Tuki, as always, fits into the situation easily, enjoying the experience. For a moment, I am nervous, but in no time I am used to the smooth moving sinews of my horse.

Fear of Horse Rides

 Loosi is frightened and cries out as the horse moves around, but after a few minutes she takes to her horse and calms down. Nonti, however, is having none of the free-spiritedness of her equine fellow. As he moves to the straw, she screams nervously. He moves again and she is clearly agitated.

No matter how we try to soothe her, Nonti is having none of it and orders to be taken off the horse immediately. Her cries echo around us. I fear that Nonti’s fear of horses, as with Loosi’s, will stop any adventures we may plan in the future.

The ride around the countryside is an amazing journey. The horses are so tuned to our needs, leading us gently through fields and rocky outcrops as the two huskies and a terrier frolic happily in the long grass and gentle streams.

On The Road Again

The ride ends too soon and before we know it we are having the remnants of our supper for breakfast and hitting the N12 to make our way back to Johannesburg. We are exhausted, but it’s a happy exhaustion. We consume the last of our drinks, the music playing quietly, easily in the background. We’re recounting every beautiful moment, even the embarrassing ones. Our bodies are relaxed, tired and our voices drawl on lazily.

Our journey back to the city seems long. I can’t wait to get home and sleep. As I lay my head on the seat I imagine the others long for the same thing. However, after I’m dropped off at my home I walk in and I am astounded that my floor is floating and CDs are scattered around. I walk through in a state of confusion until I get to my bedroom and open the cupboards.

The Journey Never Ends

Everything is wet. The house smells of damp. I walk to the bathroom and realise that while I was away the geyser had burst. Everything is in ruins. It is Sunday afternoon and the car must be back at the airport. I am distraught. Something in me is also extremely tired. I sit on the step, light a cigarette and watch my friends drive away.

What a journey!