My alarm went off at 4:30 a.m., because I was on ‘duty team’ today. This meant that I was responsible for supporting the kitchen team with two others and had to get up accordingly early, before everyone else.

It had rained during the night and as it turned out in the torchlight, my tent was leaking. Not at a specific point, but at the seams. Now, for the first time, I was glad that the tent was at an angle, because the water had collected in one corner of the tent in a puddle about three centimetres high – but the rest had remained as dry as possible.

After a large portion of ‘Swiss Muesli’ and instant coffee by the warming fire, we set off on game drive number seven at around 6:10 am.

I had been back at the Wilderness Camp since Monday, but this time with a different focus. This time it was about game drives, i.e. learning how to do safari drives, as a practical part of the training to become an NQF2 Nature Guide.

This time there was no walking, but exploring the park in a converted, open Toyota 4×4. This time I was here with another of my new group Ilanga and this was even for two weeks in a row, including the weekend. That makes a total of twelve days. Twelve days in the wilderness, twelve days in a row in a very primitive camp.

As expected, this had already left its mark on the social structure after a week or so. The first people were getting bitchy and there was some friction. The main topic was mostly hygiene. But the bottom line was that the time had flown by and the small frictions had not left any major scars. In the end, we were really lucky because we were actually on safari all day long!

nature guides

Most days we did one or two game drives. One or two game drives in a ‘Dangerous Big Five’ area – and every day was different. Every day offered new challenges and new encounters, but every day was amazing!

This time, it wasn’t Dylan who introduced us to the wilderness, but Graham, and this time, the goal wasn’t to see as many of the animals classified as ‘dangerous game’ as possible, but rather to finally focus on the details. About trees, about birds, about tracks and about how to conduct a tour, how to plan it and, above all, how to explain it.

This usually involved ten of us climbing onto the safari vehicle at the crack of dawn and heading out into the wilderness. After a few metres, the vehicle would stop again and one of us would be given the task of conducting a morning briefing. Graham then drove us through the park, stopping at every little opportunity to explain something to us.

The first few days were very exhausting for me again, because there was a lot of new information. But then we reached the point where we started to repeat and began to explain things ourselves. For example, each of us had been given an animal that we were allowed to explain in detail as soon as we saw it.

Some of us had difficulties to stand up in front of the group and talk at the beginning, but now it was normal for all of us and yesterday evening Graham had stated contentedly, ‘You sound like real guides now’.

Now we were sitting on the vehicle again, breathing in the fresh, moist morning air and looking forward to the next few hours in the open air and in nature.

It had stopped raining, but everything was wet and grey. At 6 a.m., the temperature was 19 degrees Celsius, which, rather than being cold, felt very pleasant. The maximum temperature for the day was expected to be 23 degrees, which is why we had decided to go on a full-day excursion. The pleasantly low temperatures and grey cloud cover were not only relaxing for us, but also offered a special opportunity for animal spotting:

The rain had washed away all the old scent marks and all the territorial animals were now busy retracing and re-marking their territory to avoid losing it. So there should be plenty going on.

As we drove down the path to a dry, thatch-covered riverbed, Graham spotted a bird that caught his attention. He stopped the car and while most of us admired the bird with our binoculars, some of us also let our binoculars wander over the horizon and across the dry river bed.

‘Lions!’ Jona suddenly shouted, pointing to the end of the reed field, at the foot of a small hill.

Sure enough, two drenched, golden-grey lionesses were roaming through the thicket, apparently targeting a njala antelope grazing on the hillside. However, the approach of the two sisters was only half-hearted and the attentive antelope spotted the two hunters in good time, fled and thus saved her life.

Slowly and gracefully, the two lionesses then climbed the hill, played with each other and occasionally let their gaze wander gracefully over the valley. This went on for a good half hour until the animals suddenly leaped up, disappeared behind the horizon of the hill and left us alone.

a lesson

The sweet scent of decomposition caressed my nose as we looked towards the lions and lingered. Our original goal had been the carcass of an antelope that had died the previous day. We were curious to see how the situation had changed today and hoped to find some scavengers there when we had just met the two lionesses. Now the smell reminded us of our original plan. Graham turned the key in the ignition and the powerful four-cylinder engine of the Toyota Land Cruiser roared to life.

Since we could already smell the smell of decomposition from a good kilometre away, we expected to find an extremely bloated carcass. But when we reached the scene, we could no longer find the remains of the large animal!

We were just about to drive on when Jona, who is always attentive, spotted the horns of the animal lying next to a bush at the edge of the reed-covered river bed. Suddenly the group stirred. Many jumped directly from the Land Cruiser and ran to the carcass – of which not much was left!

‘Guys,’ Graham called out testily, ‘I haven’t vacated the area yet, and there may still be predators hiding in the reeds. It seems that all it takes is one lion and all manners go immediately,‘ he grumbled to himself, looking for signs of predators on the sandy path. ’There are a lot of hyena tracks here, and lion tracks too,” he called after the inattentive group, when suddenly there was a loud crackling in the thicket right next to the carcass.

A jolt went through the group standing around the carcass, and in defiance of all the rules they had learned about how to behave in the bush when faced with a hunter, the group sprinted in panic back to the off-road vehicle. ‘That’s the bush,’ Graham said with a broad grin, as he revved up the engine of the Land Cruiser again and continued the journey. ‘I guess you’ve just learned something important!’

We drove along the now well-known, bumpy track, while I enjoyed the grey-golden-anthracite cloud pictures and dull green-yellow colours of the landscape. We crossed bush landscapes, savannahs, reeds and steppes and encountered baboons, velvet monkeys, lively njalas, kudus and lots of impalas along the way.

When we returned to the place where we had seen a huge grey herd of elephants on Wednesday, our journey was interrupted this time by a large group of dark brown buffaloes. Twelve buffalo bulls, called ‘daggerboys’, looked at us grumpily and discontentedly. You could see their old skin and thinning hair.

‘They are old, have been rejected by the herd and have become ‘useless’ . Their skin and teeth are bad, the prime of life is over. They are just old grumpy men,” Sam explained to us, who had the buffalo as a “presentation animal”.

As usual, we took a coffee break at a beautiful spot with often spectacular views at around 9:15. This time we were standing under two large ficus trees, on a small, also dried-up river bed. With a fragrant coffee and a sweet rusk (a hard, dry, large but tasty biscuit) in hand, we lingered in front of a colourful rock face and examined the different rock layers. It was my daily highlight of the morning.

The bush often changes its appearance after just a few minutes

After 30 minutes, we moved on. We reached the place where we had seen a ‘black’ rhinoceros the day before, but this time there was none. Also, in the savannah that opened up afterwards, we could not spot any white rhinos, unlike yesterday.

rampant elephants

After stopping at various trees and examining a wide variety of brightly coloured birds, we started our way back and the open, yellow-grey expanse of the savannah became a dense, dark green scrubland. Graham steered the rocking off-roader along the winding, dark red path when Mak suddenly spotted a huge bull elephant on the right-hand side.

The group, which had become a bit subdued, came to life again and the photographers among us quickly got their cameras ready.

‘Just keep going,” Mak called to Graham from the back row, as he had not yet recognised the animal. “He’s going to cross the road in a moment,” Mak added, as we heard a crack in the bushes, a good 60 metres ahead. Graham slowly brought the car to a halt and routinely switched off the engine so as not to unnecessarily irritate the animal.

But contrary to expectations, the elephant did not trot across the road, munching contentedly. Instead, it emerged dynamically from the undergrowth, turned its head in our direction and began to advance towards us at a dynamic pace. Slowly at first, then faster and faster.

‘He’s in musth!!” Graham shouted loudly, started the car immediately, put it into reverse and raced backwards with the ungainly Land Cruiser. With the skills of a good action stunt driver, Graham steered the off-road vehicle backwards for a good 200 metres, over the bumpy track and through the tight bends. The bull followed us, with his head held high and his ears flapping, then suddenly stopped and disappeared snorting into the undergrowth.

‘Everyone okay? Who needs new underwear?’ Graham called out to us from the driver’s cab through the open window. We were all fine. Nobody had peed their pants and everyone had kept their composure. We hadn’t even been scratched by the acacias at the side of the road. ‘Phew!’ But we were all just happy about the good, quick reaction and Graham’s excellent driving skills. He had really shown good handling and a lot of experience.

‘How many chases has that been?‘ I asked the surprisingly relaxed-looking Graham.

’Oh, I don’t know. Way over fifty. Some were really close. This one was a breeze,’ he said with a broad grin, but he also seemed a little relieved in the end.

‘Musth’is a recurring phase in male elephants, characterised by aggressive behaviour and a strong increase in reproductive hormones. The bull becomes willing to mate and thinks of nothing but mating. The high testosterone level causes the bull to feel provoked by everything and everyone around him. The otherwise placid, peaceful animals fly into a rage and are literally ‘out of their minds’. The term comes from Persian and means something like ‘intoxicated’.

jack

In the afternoon, a tyre change was on the curriculum. We had two tyres that permanently lost air and took the opportunity to learn how to change and repair a tyre properly.

Changing a tyre doesn’t sound that challenging at first and I had done it several times: get the jack, remove the nuts, jack up the car, completely loosen and change the tyre. Done. Actually unspectacular.

But add rough terrain, the danger of being attacked and eaten by a wild predator, oversized tyres, a car body with decent ground clearance and a corresponding jack, and the task looks quite different. The huge jack, called a ‘jack’, was particularly tricky and a few broken bones, especially in the face, have probably been caused by incorrect handling. No thanks, I don’t need that again. Once was enough for me. So for me it was also a case of paying attention and learning.

I found repairing the tyres particularly exciting. I had already done it on my bike, but not on the truck-like tyres of an off-roader. Why should I? If a tyre goes flat in Germany, it is simply replaced. Here in the bush, however, it was not that easy. So there were special sets to repair such tyres. The procedure for doing so was completely new to me and I was happy to be able to learn a new skill.

chilling in the bush

At around 3 p.m., we were all sitting on the vehicle again and on our way to the afternoon drive. The destination this time: a nearby freshwater spring. When we arrived, we didn’t see any animals, but a large number of the participants still jumped straight off the car and sat at the edge of the water hole – I just stayed seated.

Yes, I could have got out of the car and looked for wild animals at the source. Or I could have stayed in my seat and used the time to study. After all, there were a lot of tests and exams waiting for us just seven days after our return, and in just 21 days there would be the final exam for the NQF2 Nature Guide.

I slid down my seat a little, rested my head on the rear railing and closed my eyes. The cicadas chirped, the afternoon birds warbled their happy song, the warm wind rustled comfortably through the trees of the bushveld. It was warm, but not hot. I took in the smells and decided not to study. I just wanted to be ‘there’. Without an ‘assignment’. ‘Chilling in the bush’. It was truly a luxury not to have to chase after every encounter, because the next one was coming anyway. ‘Wilderness decadence’, glorious, I grinned to myself and let go of my thoughts.

After a good ninety minutes, we were on our way again. Graham was once more driving the cream-coloured Land Cruiser nimbly and safely over the bumpy track. We drove past rock formations and finally up a hill, to the place for today’s sundowner.

at night, with smacking buffaloes

As the rising moon and Venus entered the red-orange stage, we set off on the bumpy road home. I put an earphone in one ear and pressed play. Ludovico Einaudi’s sounds, the red bush that was getting darker and darker, and the still warm, pleasant ‘summer air’ created another magical situation.

But it was only when we suddenly came across a herd of buffalo blocking our way back that it really came together. We had no choice but to switch off the engine and wait, because one rule was: ‘Don’t push the animals’ – especially not one of the dangerous ‘Big Five’.

When Graham turned off the light and we were sitting in total darkness, we listened to the cosy crackling, smacking and grunting of the buffaloes, only about twenty metres away from us. It got so dark so quickly that we soon couldn’t even see the animals anymore and only the birds of the night were singing and all kinds of branches were cracking around us. At night, the bush really has a completely different effect! But it didn’t feel threatening to me. The car provided us with protection and we felt comfortable.

It was 9:00 pm and I was lying in my sleeping bag, as I was every night at this time. The whole camp was remarkably quiet, but it had been another eventful day. We had seen lions, been chased by elephants and looked at the stars with buffalos. I had learned how to change a tyre on a game drive vehicle and, in addition to countless birds and trees, there was another magnificent sunset. But something else had happened: although so much had happened again today, I was not tired! My eyes didn’t close of their own accord, as they had done during the last few days in the wild. I wasn’t as ‘deeply exhausted’ as usual.

This situation seemed familiar to me. The last time I had this experience was when I got used to speaking English in July. Now I seemed to have got used to something again: the wild environment. To the intense impressions and the daily encounters with wild animals.