Caravan Capers in Botswana

We're back from Botswana via the Kgalagadi Trans Frontier Park, and I want to share the highlights and surprises of our adventure with you. Not a day passed without a mishap or surprise! Thank goodness we kept our sense of humour!   AND the world hasn’t ended, winter has come and gone, and South Africa still rocks! We saw herds of elephants, lions lounging in the shade, and a rare sighting of a leopard in the wild-truly unforgettable moments!

The Kgalagadi was just a road leading to Botswana; we hardly stopped to look at any of the animals. Our mission was Kaa gate, on the Northeastern boundary, the roads were bad, dreadful corrugations, we just put our heads down and ground our way north, with the intention of spending our second night at Nossop.

We made it, and then the “fun” started.... Precious got off to a very bad start with the clerk of works at reception, and then had an awful experience with the camp manager who was at Tweerivieren for the weekend. He was rude, unfriendly, and unhelpful, and even threatened to have us drive back to Tweerivieren at night to report to him in person. I must confess my Precious did try the sympathy card (he lied) about our circumstances, too long a story, anyway, he did ‘fess up, which didn’t sweeten the manager's attitude at all.

Good Samaritans (a couple from Johannesburg) then offered to share their site with us for the night. The Camp Manager reasoned that the camp was chock-a-block full, and he felt that we were pressurising him into giving us a site which he didn’t have. I couldn’t wait to take photographs of the campsite at first light, before anyone had left. It was ¾ empty! Poor Precious hardly slept; he tossed and turned all night, regurgitating the very unpleasant experience. Update on the caravan: by then, we'd lost one door (the wardrobe) and the hand basin too.

The next day, we travelled to Karr and then up to Ukhuntsi- what an experience, hundreds of kilometres on a two-track road without ever seeing another vehicle (the last vehicle through the gate had been 5 days earlier), but through the most beautiful landscape, large pans with many species of animals in large herds.

I’d have loved to stay there for a day or two, but we weren’t sure about the distances and other details, so we pushed on. Queenie, you’d have loved the trees, vast forests. We were very lucky to see our first leopard, a cackle of hyenas, many antelope, and a giraffe. This was one of the few days without a hitch!

Maun, our first stop, was a 4X4 workshop to have the air conditioner (which drives the car fridge) repaired. We were informed that the compressor had cracked, and we’d only have cool air for 2 days and would have to fill up in Kasane again. Lo and behold, the cool air lasted exactly two days, and then it was open windows all the way back to Onrus, bearing in mind that daytime temperatures there were consistently in the high 30s! Fortunately, we stopped there because we became their best customer!

George was determined to see and experience the flow of the Savuti channel. After breakfast, we set off for Savuti, and what a lovely drive it was until..... pooof, there goes the Cruiser, it just died on us, not even a splutter or choke or rattle. The engine just packed up and ground to a halt! Approx. 2 hours’ drive from Maun.

George immediately opened the bonnet and knocked about a little, but knew there was really nothing he could do... so we wait... for help... and not too long thereafter, a very kindly man stops in his Land Rover... he was one of many very friendly Land Rover owners who stopped to help... After lots of tapping, trying, fiddling, a guy with a Satellite phone stops to help and then phones his friend Mac to come and give us a hand, but by then a message had already gone on ahead to let the 4x4 guy in Maun know of our troubles.

Eventually, everyone leaves. Precious and I open the caravan, make tea, have snacks, and wait, 4 hours later, Mac arrives, and hot on his heels is the other guy. Mac loses it and gets really, quite angry about the competition, then buggers off, leaving us with the 4x4 guy.

I had my doubts because when Precious mentioned that he’d been notified there’d been lots of shoulder lifting, sidelong glances, etc., it did not look promising. He’d even brought his wife and two children along for the ride! Anyway, not long afterwards, he got the Cruiser going again and off we went. We were heading straight through to Kasane via Savuti (we only stopped for a quick bite to eat there), but couldn’t make it in one day, so we spent the night at the Mababe gate.

A delightful gentleman welcomed us and gave us the perfect spot right next to the only working loo. He informed us that lions would visit us at night, but we only heard two roaring and a hyena scavenging, and saw no other animals. Taking serious note of all the advice from everyone coming through the park, we set off on the low road, which was supposedly better than the “main” road to Kasane.

Off we went, bumping and rolling up to Kasane. The roads were dreadful, quite a bit of water, but the general condition of the roads was just shocking, with many large potholes and corrugations, detours, and “new” diversions.

Mud-spattered, hot, and tired but still excited, we arrived in Kasane; our spirits high, looking forward to three nights there. We found a lovely camping site at the Chobe Safari Lodge (remember we had drinks there Missy) after setting up our campsite my Precious noticed something dripping from the back of Carrie, I was merrily unpacking when I discovered that 6 of 10 “papsakke” the wine bags we use, had punctured, with all the shaking about the tinned cool drinks (Coke, Tab, Ginger Ale) and the mineral water bottles had been jumping up and down on top of our wine bags.

Our precious wine had been dripping and pouring out of Carrie all the way from goodness knows where, probably Maun. There I stood with 6 empty bags and a caravan reeking of old wine. As you can imagine, I could’ve wept.

On our first day, we went out on a chartered boat to do some photography along the river. A great experience but quite challenging, the guide wasn’t at all knowledgeable about our needs, which were: no movement, getting up close to the animals, especially the birds, so many of our photos are blurred, the slightest movement, water, wakes, engine, and bumping into things caused blurring.

At one point, a very snazzy boat came whizzing past, the “Nikon” boat, geared for photographers, with equipment to die for, and there we were with bean bags and “tripods”, lying and crouching in the most awkward, unladylike positions trying to snap a few photos! But the views and sights were amazing; there were huge swathes of water lilies as far as the eye could see, with the most amazing water birds nesting or with their chicks everywhere. We were able to see some crocodiles, hippos, elephants, and buffalo.

During the night, we noticed that our -40 (freezer) was particularly quiet, and when things are very quiet, there’s trouble. Sure enough, there was no power. George checked the fuse, bumped and patted it to no avail. Luckily, he had a contact whom he summoned, a Rasta named Joy, with dreadlocks to die for, the local electrician. He managed to sort things out; it was a fuse! We now have enough fuses to last a lifetime in every size and shape.

We had been invited to spend the night at Ichingo Lodge by the Oxenham’s, the owners of a small exclusive lodge and two houseboats on the Chobe River. (Google it!) We left by boat as soon as we could manage. What an experience! We were able to do some sightseeing around the island with our guide by boat.

Once again, we attempted some photography, especially of fish eagles, marabou storks, bee-eaters, kingfishers, etc. Still, I was disappointed with my results, though not put off by a long shot! At the lodge, we were so spoilt, our accommodation was 5-star, a beautiful, well-appointed tent with a view of the river. We enjoyed a super light lunch and, in the evening, joined the other guests for supper, and, not surprisingly, one of the guests was a ‘travel agent’ from Worcester. His core business is selling the African experience to travel agencies abroad.

Whilst in Kasane, we were able to stock up on a few essentials, mainly ice and fresh produce, and we were able to make use of the Lodge’s one-day laundry service, which was bliss. We were so excited about our stay in Kasane that the odd, weird odour wafting up from the nether regions of Fanny the caravan was ignored!

Kasane is still a lively, bustling colonial village, the gateway to all the Parks. Not much has changed since we were last there, except for the commercial developments mushrooming along the riverbank, with architecture and town planning not being strong points or priorities at all! Many tourists were about, and many foreign languages were spoken. Tourism is certainly thriving in Botswana, and the 4x4 rental business from Namibia is, too, and must be driving that economy; every second off-road vehicle registered in Botswana was registered in Namibia.

At last, to the bush we go. Savuti is our first booking for 9 nights.  Unfortunately, we could not book a campsite on the river and had to settle for no 9, a little way from the river but not too far from the ablutions. We set up camp as quickly as possible, and then disaster struck. I was merrily unpacking when I discovered that the boxes in which I’d packed our tinned goods had broken.

Many of the tins had been damaged and punctured, or opened up; e.g., there was an open tin of sardines, nicely squashed and spread all over the box. 2 tins of condensed milk had opened and poured, mixing with the sardines; a tin had condensed the gherkins in another tin. All those juices were nicely mixed with all the other delights in there. The boxes and crates foul-smelted; many of the tins had started rusting from either the fish or the preservatives in the condensed milk, so it was clean-up time; I trashed almost half our stock. But the worst was getting the caravan clean again, which took ages, and I was really losing my sense of humour!

Eventually, I had everything unpacked; our clothes were all nicely sorted and in place; our bed was made; we were rearing to go... Smokey Robertson was gathering wood for our braai, so life was good again. And then I was rewarded with an amazing sight: a huge bull elephant came visiting. He spent at least 30 minutes in our camp, eating from the camel thorn trees, scratching his back, and generally just enjoying himself there.

He became a regular visitor, and we were all captivated by him, with many opportunities to photograph him throughout our stay.
Hank and Barbie (George’s nephew and his wife) joined us for 8 nights, which was very nice; we had lots of fun, laughs, and excellent meals, mostly made by Barbie. The boys spent some time doing maintenance work, as our fridge had packed up (the Engel in the cruiser). Luckily, it only needed a good clean and dusting, and it’s worked perfectly ever since. Hank fiddled with his solar panel until he was happy with its performance.

As you all know, George has camped in Botswana for many years and knows all the tricks. He’s very conscientious about packing everything away at night, making sure the hyenas can’t get to anything, etc., etc., so he does what’s necessary, and off to bed we go. We love our bed, we sleep like babies, only waking when the animal sounds get too loud!! Not long after we’d dozed off, he woke up to a scuffle outside.

Honey badgers have come to scavenge. Nothing is safe. They climb onto, into, over, and on top of everything and anything you can imagine. Nothing is safe from them except if it’s locked inside the caravan or Cruiser. They managed to get into one of my ammo boxes with long-life milk; he opened it and poured out 3 litres. (I had 6 litres in there), The milk flowed everywhere, leaving us with a sour-smelling tent for the duration!

Nothing I did could get rid of the awful smell. The critters visited us on 3 consecutive evenings until we had him covered, and he realised there were no easy pickings and was never seen again. They are very agile, strong, tenacious, and aggressive, and as Precious so succinctly puts it, “they go for one’s testicles”!

We were rewarded with many lovely sightings, the grass is green everywhere, the trees are flourishing, the animals are fat and healthy, the river is amazing, and the marshes are huge. Unfortunately, the animals have dispersed and are widely scattered, as there’s so much grazing about, the roads have changed, and so old familiar routes are no longer passable.

It’s amazing to hear fish eagles, see kingfishers and many water birds, to hear and see hippos, and see fish jump in the waters is amazing and spectacular. We didn’t see or hear one cat, though, which was disappointing.

Whilst Barbie and I were on a walk one day, we met the camp manageress (the camp has been privatised; it’s owned by a company called SMK Lodges, with owners in Botswana and Germany). They’re currently putting up a few tented chalets with a dining area along the riverfront. Guests will be flown in and given the treatment and game drives, etc, by a person who was really very friendly and helpful. They’ve renovated the ablutions, so showering is a pleasure now, with hot and cold water, cleanliness, revamped facilities, and daily servicing.

Although we didn’t get up at the crack of dawn on any day in Savuti, we did do our two daily drives, and on Mother’s Day, we went to Linyanti. Absolutely lovely right on the Kwando River, with Namibia on the opposite side.

After 6 nights, my Precious decided he’d had enough of Savuti’s lack of lion, and we all packed up and left for the Moremi. Hank and Barbie haven’t been there, so this was an opportunity for them to go there, too. And just as well that they were with us. A slow and laborious journey to Moremi we had. At one stage, we caught up with Brett and Debbie, who’d got stuck in thick sand. It took them a good hour and lots of sweat to dig themselves out of there; eventually, someone stopped and tugged at them.

It was during this trek that our caravan hit a huge pothole and broke its draught-pole/chassis in two places. Once again, we were able to phone the 4x4 guy in Maun, using Hank’s sat phone. We then left Carrie at the scene of the accident and returned to Maun.

The 4x4 guy hotfooted it to the scene of the accident, welded the caravan, hitched it (all singlehandedly) returned it to Maun at one hell of a lick (so that everything that could break would break etc.,) and 24 hours later we were able to collect our now battered and bashed caravan, it is completely out of whack, the doors hardly close, my heart broke. I was convinced we were going to return with two tyres, our bed, and nothing else.

Not to be put off, we then proceeded to the Moremi. The very first cupboard I opened contained the tomato sauce bottle, which had already opened and mixed with the other ingredients in the cupboard. We also remembered Sparky’s friends, the monkeys, and how he shooed them away all day, so we parked and camped under clear skies away from any trees.

This, of course, was no deterrent, as we were badgered by them all day; once again, everything had to be stowed well away from their little fingers. Fortunately, we could “hire” the camp cleaner, a lovely man, to babysit whilst we went game driving. The Moremi has changed a good deal, too. Lots of water around; the once-dry floodplains are marshes now, and new roads had to be rerouted again, etc. The game is also widely dispersed, so the large herds George is used to seeing weren’t there.

We did have wonderful animal noises at night, though, hippo’s, lions, and again a blood-curdling screech one night, all I could see was a huge hyena, but the next morning Barbie told us she’d seen a fight right in front of their vehicle. The camp attendant said he thought it might’ve been two hyenas fighting, I thought it was a leopard... and I’ll stick to my story.

We were fortunate to have two very large male lions right in our midst and to photograph them early one morning. George and Hank, whilst standing gazing at the plain in front of our campsite, saw them charge across right in front of them, chasing another male away.

Whilst we were unpacking on our first afternoon, we heard a loud gunshot. Later, it was estimated that 11 loud gunshots had been fired. We then heard that a lone bull elephant had been shot; the villagers had reported him as being a nuisance, hence he was killed. I wish you could have heard the celebrations. From then on until all the meat had been distributed amongst the villagers, there was chanting and singing, and kilos and kilos of meat were hacked and shared.

We drove into the village the next day to see meat hanging in strips from every tree, plant, or shrub. One guy proudly posed for a photograph with a wheelbarrow piled with meat. This was a sight not for the faint-hearted. I’ll not tell you the gory details. Of course, in due course, all the scavengers were attracted, and treetops were filled with vultures, and the sky was black with kettles of vultures. Lions jealously guarded the carcass soon after.

Barbie and Hank stayed for two nights before heading back to Johannesburg. We were sad to see them go, as we’d really enjoyed their company. We’d done a couple of game drives, done the memory lane thing, had wonderful sightings along the river, hippos, elephant, once again many fish eagles, etc., the herds of antelope were very shy and mostly in the forests, but we did have lovely sightings of Lechwe in the ponds and marshes. We heard about a large male leopard, but try as we might, we never caught sight of him!

The evening after the Hoblyn’s left was a quiet one for us; we were quite forlorn! And not long after we’d sat down to supper, we heard the rumble of a petrol generator. At one stage butch did ask whether I thought it might belong to South Africans. I said, of course, there’s no doubt about that. By 9 o’clock I was nicely fed up and starting to wind myself up.... I spoke up, and at once Precious put his knife and fork down and started looking for the culprit.

Half an hour later, he returned. I’ve done the dishes, brushed my teeth, and am reclining in my bed with a book when he gets back. The culprit is none other than the local wildlife scout who had shot the elephant. He had obviously got himself a share of the elephant spoils, which he’s keeping cold in his fridge. As can be expected, Precious very diplomatically told him that we are on holiday, love the peaceful night sounds of the bush, etc., and would he please put it off. He assured Butch he would. Well, at 4 o’clock the next morning, he did so. That was the last straw, the next morning, Butch decided that’s it, we’re going home. So instead of spending another 2 days in the park, we packed up and headed home. We spent two nights on the road and decided to return via Namibia because the roads are much better and well-maintained.

Our caravan took its final knock on the good Namibian road, and a hurricane-force wind began to blow. It shook it every which way; eventually, the roof shot open twice, had to be battened down, and on the first opening, the roof handle was torn off. Poor Darling never said a word; he just grabbed the cable ties and got on with it. By then, I was hysterical! I didn’t know whether I was laughing or crying.

Thank goodness we made it back to Onrus in one piece on Tuesday night in time to vote on Wednesday! On Thursday and Friday, George was back at work, and I started sorting out the washing, which I smartly delivered to the Laundromat. We've been exhausted ever since and retire to bed at 9 p.m. I must confess we did attend a birthday party on Saturday night, though, and could make it to about 11 o’clock.

The caravan is currently at the caravan hospital in Cape Town. An assessor has seen her, but it seems we have a write-off on our hands. Let’s wait and see.
In conclusion I must say the following: we loved the caravan, it’s comfortable bed and the convenience of having one’s things organised, but it was very stressful dragging it around with us, especially as the roads are really shocking and I doubt whether they’ll improve in the near future, although we’ve been told that the roads in the Kgalagadi have been graded since our visit.

 The booking system used in the Kgalagadi and Botswana is shocking. I don’t think the right hand has a clue there’s a left hand. For weeks, George scoured their websites looking for cancellations, and after a reassuring telephone call with a colleague in Upington who spoke to the park manager of the Kgalagadi and assured Sweets that the online booking system was faultless. I can, without doubt, tell you the campsites we visited were at least 50% occupied. So that was disappointing and frustrating.

Hats off to everyone who helped us: the two girls, Marie and Helene, who put up with us at Nossop for the night; they were truly amazing, and then a huge hug to Cassie from Delta 4X4, who was a star, and Dawn and Ralph, who were gracious hosts at Ichingo lodge.

We spent many evenings musing about you, all our friends and family, children, and grandchildren, and wished you could have been there. We missed you all, but especially the Queen of Tarts and her Prince, Caron, and her latest hunk, who might’ve joined us, but we agreed that this trip was not meant for you; it was gruelling, difficult, and stressful. However, it was wonderful in many, many ways. I really enjoyed the experience; I personally coped better than last time.

Next time we go, this will be included: a satellite phone, an electrical reader, fuses, and YOU!

We learnt a lot, and I really, really, really won’t be going back to a two-man tent! But we’ll only decide on camping mode if/when we do it again. We have hundreds of photographs to go through; it’s a daunting task; hopefully, there’ll be a few to show you!

Lastly, I would like to thank the Hunk and his Barbie for joining us. I loved every minute you were there; it was wonderful to get to know you both better. You’re such relaxed, laid-back travellers, exactly as it should be. I hope we can do it again sometime. We miss you both.

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Postscript: I smile as I read these old blogs (written a decade ago when I first started writing. Then, we were all a little wary of “publishing” our names or identities. The names I use are all pseudonyms to protect my friends' identities. The problem with all that is that I don’t know who many of the people I wrote about are now… thank goodness I’ve become quite au fait with blogging and we’re all so blasé now and our names are splashed all over the internet anyway. Can you believe I wrote about “My Husband and Precious”? It’s Butch.