I Arrived and jumped straight into the tent’s fancy outside shower, then ran out again on hearing an elephant splashing in the river below.
Excited, I watched three of the beasts through my binoculars. Then saw one get even more excited than I was, and it certainly showed: he seemed to grow a fifth leg.
It is an impressive sight. Took about three seconds from start to full extension. Strange, while Hollywood has broken virtually every taboo, one still remains: male erections hardly ever find their way into mainstream cinema.
It made me wonder if depicting an elephant’s in print or photograph is somehow an invasion of his privacy.
Be that as it may, the impressive fellow, who I dubbed Morning Glory, walked up the 50m hill from the river right to my tented hut, then brushed past the very shower I had so abruptly abandoned.
What a wonderful welcome to Pafuri Camp!
What a gorgeous camp, with 20 tented huts perched on the north bank of the Luvuvhu River, just south of the great, grey, greasy Limpopo.
Mind you, the Limpopo was just a trickle in the second week of October this year as animals and humans alike scanned skies daily hoping for summer rains to fall.
Elephants were close below my tent on every one of the four days we were there. One called Mondli (wild as can be, just a coincidence I knew his name) even browsed grasses on the roof of my tent as I watched, fascinated, less than a metre from him.
Then there is CSI KNP that must be mentioned, but I interrupt myself. More of Mondli later.
As South Africa started to respond to international demand for five-star game-viewing accommodation, many lodges created superb tents – big double bed, twin wash-handbasins, twin showers, comfortable toilet, fans, thatch, fabulous views.
Not much distinguishes one from t’other; not much one can write about this accommodation that has not been said before.
Pafuri Camp is in that class, in spades. Beautiful. White linen, which I was told was about to be changed with a refurbishment. Not sure why, looked fine to me, but the women on the trip nodded sagely at this news.
The view is possibly the best I have ever had in any establishment, ever. Up and down the river 100m or more to each side. Tent 20 at the end of the line has the best views; it is isolated if you are anxious about wild game, but the very isolation is glorious if you do not suffer fears in the bush.
Of course, there are creatures one should fear, for on the first night we were there a minor altercation took place under hut 16 between a leopard and a lion.
Nothing serious, no casualties. Just a catfight, you understand, snarling, growling, perhaps a bit of fur flying.
The 20 tents are about two metres off the ground on stilts, and a raised boardwalk connects them all. If you are lucky enough to be in tent 20, you have about a kilometre-and-a-half to walk back to the main dining area – another bonus, as you get to rid yourself of a few of the calories you are likely to pick up from the good food served by the kitchen.
The day begins with a 5am wake-up call from your allotted ranger, coffee with rusks at 5.30am and a game drive starting at 6am.
Coffee and rusks on the drive when you feel like it, and back to camp for breakfast at 10am – eggs, bacon, fruit, the works. Dinner is at 8pm.
What? No lunch?
Afraid not. But you do get snacks (nuts, biltong, dry wors, pretzels) with sundowners in the park at sundown, G&Ts or beers, or even a Klippies and Coke, should you shun the upmarket whisky on offer.
The sunset is viewed where you choose to view it.
A self-confessed parkaholic, I went to Kruger for the first time at five years old, and did not sleep the first night for absolute wonderment. I’ve been back every year since, most years several times so, at my current age of 61, that – is a bunch of visits.
So trust me, then, when I tell you Pafuri is where you will see the most birds, and probably the most buck and elephant as well. You may struggle to see giraffe, and the cheetahs like Pafuri as much as they like the Blue Bulls, generally steering clear. There are lions a-plenty, warthogs, baboons, lizards and the best trees in the park.
Three companions on this trip were not birders, yet in four days they notched up an impressive 51 species, each of them identifying the birds themselves from bird books, with just a modicum of help from the guide.
My tally was 117 species in the six game drives, but most of the drive time was spent giggling at the three new birders struggling to identify a hadeda ibis or a blacksmith plover.
There is fabulous birdlife at Pafuri, from the rather rare Bohm’s spinetail and a dozen pairs of Pel’s fishing owls to resident fish eagles. The African eagles displayed every morning, on our second morning taking a fish from the river right in front of guests enjoying their rusks.
You cannot but be enthusiastic after that.
Two years ago I helped collar several elephants near Pafuri. Helicopter, dart gun, racing vehicles, adrenalin, the whole nine yards.
Those elephants were then tracked, so it was simply amazing when I saw that the large bull coming to graze on my tent was none other than the one we named Mondli, named after the then editor of the Sunday Times (whose uncomfortable task it had been to keep a thermometer up the bum of the elephant to monitor his vital temperature, so his reward was to have the pachyderm named after him).
Strange coincidence. I have been shown data describing Mondli’s movements over the past year, and here he was at my tent. Incredible.
On our third morning, we came across a dead elephant. Vultures are strange creatures. White-backed vultures at a kill behave like workers, crowding each other and squawking, whereas lappet-faced vultures are the chief executives, lording it over all and sundry.
These huge-billed birds are respected by all for their impressive beaks, able to rip up an elephant hide. Their footsteps are often followed by the more timid hooded vultures, who act as secretaries to the majestic CEOs.
But lappet-faced are loners, seldom to be seen. When two landed near us it seemed likely there was a carcass to be found.
So it proved to be. It was then I learned about the crime scene investigators of the KNP: KNP CSI.
Our guide, who incidentally was visibly distressed at seeing the dead elephant, “secured the perimeter” at the murder and telephoned the park’s section ranger, who sent a team to swiftly seek clues about the death.
They brought metal detectors for possible bullets in the carcass, forensic trackers to look for human footprints, the investigator’s instincts of a Columbo.
Their final verdict? Accidental death by being gored.
The 20-year-old male had a large hole in his chest, likely to have been made by another elephant’s tusk in a fight they said, although it might have been a buffalo.
We ordinary rubber-neckers in the park seldom think about these things.
Every elephant death gets this treatment. Once the verdict is in, the choppers come out and the tusks are carefully hacked from the skull to go into the KNP’s tusk safe.
Pafuri Camp is run by the Safari Adventure Company, which says in its brochure that it is all about “simplicity, consistency, accessibility, biodiversity and fun” which seemed an accurate description.
We did a walk in the park, there were massages on offer, there are two pools, and there is an atmosphere of careful consideration for animals, habitat, people, diversity and cultural awareness. I never heard a single complaint while at Pafuri Camp, despite groups of Americans, Germans, Hollanders and South Africans mingling over drinks and dinner.
If you can afford it, go to Pafuri Camp, a place filled with wonder.
p Visit safariadventurecompany.com for more details, or e-mail [email protected] for reservations. - Weekend Argus