Last year, our Hurricane Evacuation Plan had us leaving our hurricane-prone home in mid-June, first for Europe in an attempt to avoid the heat and storms of home and eschew the madness of the World Cup, which was being hosted in and around Cape Town until mid-July. Five weeks in Europe followed by 4 months in Cape Town proved to be way too long.
Our choice of safari camps last year was also flawed - we safaried in the Okavango Delta region of Botswana. The temperatures exceeded 105 degrees and, except for our talented Bushmen guide, the hospitality and related services left much to be desired. It was so bad that & Beyond, the company we had handsomely compensated for hosting us, was so profuse in its amends that it offered us two free nights anywhere within their network of camps or lodges. Couple that with our 2011 plan to spend only 3 months away (way too short), and that was how we found ourselves back on an international flight only a few short weeks after arriving in Cape Town.
After an exhaustive research and a blinding flurry of e-mails, Joyce decided we would visit the Masai Mara in Kenya. Late July was perfect to see the Big Five and witness the Great Migration, where hundreds of thousands of wildebeests and zebras stampede across the endless savannah towards the Mara River. If we were lucky, we might even get to see a river crossing … a spectacle we had not seen on prior trips to the Mara, one not for the faint of heart and one that no one ever forgets. Maybe it would have the further benefit of assuaging Joyce’s carnivorous hankering for wild animal carnage.
We would spend two nights for free at Bateleur Camp (like the eagle) and the next four nights at the highly touted but, as it turned out, somewhat less luxurious, Il Moran Camp, which is a part of the Governors’ Camp complex. We would meet up Nancy Denison and her companion Cliff there, as they were starting their trip in another part of Kenya. They would then come back to CapeTown for another 10 days.
For those who proclaim that “getting there is half the fun”, let me disabuse you of this notion. If flying is involved, it is never any fun at all! The trip to the the Masai Mara from Cape Town is long, complex and tedious. One leaves Cape Town for the 2 hour flight to Johannesburg in the early morning. Then there is a change of airlines, planes and terminals. After an endless wait for the Air Kenya plane to take off and a four hour flight, we were dumped at Nairobi’s decrepit airport. By that time it was early evening, and rush hour was in full swing. The traffic was undoubtedly the most horrendous experience I’ve ever witnessed … and I lived in New York City! I envied the wildebeest caught in the migration, because at least they could graze along the way. It was drizzling and traffic was grid-locked. When we asked if there wasn’t another route we could take, our driver explained that there was nothing he could do, as “the roads shrink when it rains”. It took us close to four hours to drive the 18km to the hotel where we were to spend the night.
By the time we got to the Tribe Hotel, it was too late for a proper dinner and we were too tired and frazzled to fully appreciate the design, beauty and uniqueness of this new, innovative and splendid hospitality. The next morning, this time too early to appreciate our lovely hotel, it was back in the shuttle bus, which would transported us to Wilson, the domestic airport for our SafariLink flight to the Mara. We fervently hoped that the drive to Wilson Airport would not be a repeat of the nightmarish traffic jams we had experienced the night before and, thankfully, it was a much quicker trip. Our driver brought us to the counter and assisted with the check-in process for our flight. When the clerk asked for our nationality, we said “American”. She paused, as if not understanding so, by way of translation, he said to her “Obama”. After that, everything was easy.
Around 1pm, we landed at a crude airstrip carved out of the bush and boarded a topless Land Rover safari vehicle that brought us into camp - some 30 hours after we left Cape Town!
I must now mention that one of the best things about the trip was that it occurred over my birthday week. Yes indeed, on July 29th, exactly eighty years before, I was born! Never let it be said that this fact was overlooked on the Masai Mara. In fact, because our change in camps happened on that very day, it gave rise to a celebration that mobilized the singing, dancing and baking talents of the staff and management of both Bateleur and Il Moran.
It started with discreet knocking on our tent door, waking us at an unreasonable 5 am. It was pre-dawn, dark as pitch, but nonetheless time for my birthday present. A few short minutes after leaving camp, we saw a crowd of people gathered around as the crews … OH WOW … fired up hot air balloons for an amazing journeys over the Masai Mara. Joyce had booked a ride in that contraption as a birthday surprise … and indeed it was!
The flight was a thrill. What a great way to celebrate one’s eightieth birthday! Particularly since there was a sign posted in the Skyship Co. office stating in bold, red letters that participation in this sport by anyone older than 75 was strictly forbidden. That failed to discourage me, not even a little. No, nothing could have dissuaded me; not even if I had known that we were in for a pretty rough landing. We reached terra-firma an hour and a half later, landing in the middle of the migrating herds, the basket of the balloon laying on its side as it bounced roughly over the terrain, eventually stopping amidst wildebeest poop and a chorus of their panicked bleats. Woohoo, what a ride! Needless to say, the rest of the celebratory day was filled with a huge amount of Birthday songs and dances, cakes and the kind of joviality that makes one want to live for ever.
Our safari was wonderful even though we did not see a crossing - merely the remnants of one that had occurred the week before. There were half eaten carcasses still in the river, the crocs were so full they could barely swim, and the vultures needed a running start to get airborne and into their trees.
The highlight of the safari turned out to be the camp manager at Bateleur, who regaled us with tales of her journey from small tribal village to the top job with the most prestigious Camp in Africa. My favorites were the stories she told us about how she got her education. The children from her village rarely went to school, as they were needed to help at home. The government was trying to enforce mandatory schooling, so the elders decided that they would send the naughtiest children to school and hope that the officials would then leave them alone. Because she had been too busy playing instead of caring for her family’s sheep, many of them had been lost in a storm, so she was chosen to go to school. She soon discovered that if she studied hard at exam time she could do well and go on to the next level. This became ever more critical because girls were married off well before they reached their teen years to very old men in the village. When she finished high school, she was determined to go on to University, which meant going to Nairobi - a terrifying prospect for a girl who had never left the village. She found a sponsor, got on a bus and arrived in Nairobi hours before she was due to meet her sponsor. She started to walk to the hotel where they were to meet, and then froze in her tracks - she had encountered her first intersection, and had no idea how to navigate the traffic to get across the street. She stood, unable to move, for nearly an hour until someone asked if they could help and took her across the street. She then sat in the lobby of the hotel waiting for her sponsor, and watched in awe as three beautiful women walked through the lobby and passed through a door into a small room. A few minutes later, several men came out of the room through the same door. Then, a family with small children went in and a few minutes later an elderly couple came out. She couldn’t imagine what was going on in that room! Much later, she discovered that what she had seen was her first elevator.
After our safari, we returned to Cape Town with Nancy and Cliff in tow. In addition to doing a lot of our favorite Cape Town things we managed to have yet another birthday party; this one was held in our Cape Town home and organized by Joyce, so you know that way too many people were invited and it involved my cooking, this time it was a Boeuf Bourguignon. It was, to say the least, a daunting task … but one which I enjoyed to no end. And it was a great opportunity to introduce our friends from home to the wonderful friends we’ve made in South Africa because, by that time, Sylvia and Hal Sawelson had arrived.
It had taken a lot of cajoling to get Sylvia, who sings professionally under the name of Sylvia Bennett, to fulfill one of Hal’s bucket list wishes and come to Africa, but Joyce managed to convince her that she would not be eaten by wild animals while on safari. And did she ever outdo herself at my birthday party! She regaled us (pardon the terrible “Gallic” pun) with French songs in honor of the dish, including “I Love Paris” sung using Cape Town instead of Paris. As a special treat, she sang Happy Birthday to me a la Marilyn Monroe … WOW!!
Our dear friends from Johannesburg, Carol and Stan Berger, came down especially for the occasion and we made plans to spend time together after our guests left. We wound up at a spectacular winery between Stellenbosch and Franschhoek called Delaire Graff, reputed to be one of South Africa’s most beautiful wine estates, where their Methode Cap Classique Sparkling Wine (a name that does not offend the fickle French when referring to Champagne) can be tasted amidst a magnificent sculpture garden meticulously groomed to enhance the overall environment.
As usual, we enjoyed every minute of being with the Bergers, including dinner at the Food Barn, where the famous French chef, Franck Dangereux, began the evening with a cooking demonstration, and we followed up by ordering many of the dishes he prepared before our greedy eyes during the demonstration.
To make sure Sylvia and Hal would receive a proper grounding in the spirit of this country, we organized some outings into the Winelands which gave us the opportunity to show off the exquisite hospitality the region delivers. Thus, we planned a three day side-trip, starting with Stellenbosch and a wine-pairing lunch at Ernie Els’ Guardian Peak Vineyards (Hal’s a big golfer) followed by dessert at the Waterford Estates, where our friend Francois Haasbroek is the winemaker. Francois believes that wine should never be served with cheese, so his tastings involve chocolate - and a safari into the vineyards to sample the wines while sitting amongst the vines from which they came … paradise! Somehow we managed to drive to Franschhoek after that for 2 nights at La Residence, then overland for a stay at Birkenhead House in Hermanus, where the chances of encountering whales are usually pretty good … but not on this occasion! Everything was as delightful as ever, but the #$&!** whales refused to cooperate!!!
We did, nevertheless, managed to thrill our guests with at least one wildlife experience - a visit to Cheetah Outreach to play with this year’s production of Cheetah cubs. There were four of them, all about two months old and as cute and rambunctious as could be. Sylvia, who had no experience with up-close-and-personal wildlife encounters, started out full of apprehension that bordered on terror, but she was soon became addicted to the beguiling creatures crawling all over her lap. It was nonetheless still a surprise when she screwed up her courage and demanded we visit the main facility so she could pet a fully grown cheetah! Waiting for her was Joseph, known for his size (huge) and beauty. Joseph loves to catnap while being petted, purring all the while. Sylvia was so amazed at herself, Hal claims, that that night at dinner she ordered a Cosmopolitan, demanding that the barman keep the glass filled because “Today, I petted a Cheetah!”.
We drove back to CapeTown along the spectacular rocky, wave-beaten Eastern shore of False Bay, stopping to see the largest colony of South African “Jackass” penguins performing their swimming and waddling antics in Betty’s Bay.
The summer was flying by, it was September and the Sawlsons, Nancy and Cliff were gone, a timid avant garde of the whale nation had finally made its appearance below our balcony and we had negotiated our occupancy arrangements for next year … yes, we’re coming back … after all, what would we do with all the wine we’ve stored in the house? It was time to welcome our next contingent of house guests, Carol and Bill Crowe. This was not their first visit, as a matter of fact, Carol has come every year, so they were quite familiar with our home away from home. They knew how to make coffee in the morning and even helped with the dishes.
We met them for five magic days and nights on safari at Leopard Hills in the Sabi Sands area outside Kruger Park. In our opinion, this private game reserve combines prolific viewing of the Big Five (Lion, Elephant, Cape Buffalo, Leopard and Rhino) with five star hospitality, food and service, and does it better than any other hospitality we’ve been to. Even better, it is accessibility via a two hour nonstop domestic flight that avoids the hassle of Johannesburg and drops you off at the informal Nelspruit airport located within a manageable driving distance (or a ten minute Cessna hop) from Leopard Hill - nothing like what we had experienced getting to the Masai Mara!
Just as it was last year, the game viewing was phenomenal. We are convinced that it was due in large part to the intelligence, experience and, in some respects, mischievousness of our ranger, Dave, whom we had specially asked for, based on our experience with him last year. Dave is fearless! He and our tracker, Abraham, were quite the team in tracking the many leopards in the area, uncovering their mating grounds and enhanced our viewing pleasure by “accidentally” causing a minor delay in notifying the other vehicles of the results of their tracking efforts.
Perhaps it was because it was our second year, perhaps because the Rangers here know the big cats by name and family lineage and make sitings so personal - in any case, our game drives quickly morphed from a mere succession of unrelated sightings into a mystery novel, complete with individual characters (both good guys and bad guys) who animated the plot with continuity and drama; one that spanned the seasons like episodes linked by related events in the wilderness.
And so we saw not one but two mating pairs of leopards while Dave was carefully explaining the lineage of each of the four participants in the procreation process. The process began with ferreting out the reclusive cats from the bush by following their paw prints in the mud and sand. Dave and Abe were astounding. Once they saw tracks, they identified the size, age and sex of the animal and then they engaged in long speculations about which direction they came from, where they were apt to lead, how long it had been since they had passed, the limits of their respective hunting territory, how long it had been since they had eaten and what they had eaten last. Had they shared their prey? What tree did they climb to protect and devour their prey? And on and on …
We saw a young leopard at the dawn of his hunting career who, as is common, pulled his prey into a tree. What was unusual was that the prey was a porcupine … indeed, the cat must have been hungry to make such an unsavory prey his first kill. The nearly mature leopard cub was doing a pretty good job of spitting out the quills and pieces of fur in order to reach the edible part. As we sat, fascinated by his labors, he slinked down the tree, clearly annoyed by the unwanted attention after what must have been a rough night. Suddenly, before we could say or do anything, he charged our tracker, who was relaxing in his seat, mounted on top of the Land Rover’s front fender. We couldn’t believe it - Abe never even flinched! Fortunately, it was a mock charge and there was no real danger, but the incident did serve to remind us that the animals in the bush are indeed wild, and that when these circumstances occur, one must NEVER RUN! If you stand stock still, the chances are pretty good the animal will not pursue the attack …. you hope!
We were also mock-charged by a fierce four month old baby bull elephant. It was hilarious, particularly as its efforts were blithely ignored by its behemoth mother, who kept making her way peacefully through the bush, destroying much of her habitat along the way.
We saw all the members of the large pride of lions living near Leopard Hills. Each lion had a history, and all were very well fed on the plentiful game … mostly antelopes … that abound in the area. The rangers and trackers were completely familiar with this pride and the neighboring one several miles away. As with the leopards, they knew the pecking order of each member and their rankings in dominance. One of the great differences between leopards and lions is that for the latter, hunting meant a team effort where members of the pride combine their strength to bring down their prey. This enables them to bag more prey and go after far larger prey than that possible for the swifter but more solitary leopards.
But the lion’s instincts for cooperation and team work come at a price. Dave told us of a dominant adult male who had swatted a young cub who was trying to get some dinner before the King was finished. In the process, he nearly gouged out one of its eyes which, in the wild, would mean a hunting handicap, exposing the cub to death by starvation. The incident had occurred a few days before our arrival, and Dave was concerned over the fate of the wounded cub. Dave and Abraham had been searching for the cub, and we finally found him and his siblings sleeping in a puddle on the sandy ground of a dry river bed. As we approached, full of anxiety for the cub, it was with huge relief that we saw no evidence of any injury. The eye had miraculously healed in just a few days!!!
The dominant female had taken her cubs and gone off on her own, as she was the best hunter and didn’t want to share her kills with anyone but her own cubs. We found them under the deck of one of the neighboring lodges, consuming a huge male Nyala that she had killed earlier in the day.
We spent hours one day on the quest for a pack of wild dogs who had entered the Leopard Hills territory the night before. This was a very rare sighting, as this species is even more endangered than the elusive cheetah. We saw them coming through the underbrush, and someone yelled “Mamba”! At that instant, there was a yelp from one of the dogs, and everyone fell silent as we imagined the fate of the stricken animal. Because of the high grass, we didn’t know if the deadly Black Mamba had just scared the pup or landed a poisonous bite, but the next day when we found the pack again none of the dogs were missing. Dave’s joy was infectious. The conclusion was that the snake may have bitten the dog but had not released its venom. Between the healed eye of the lion cub and the false alarm from the deadly mamba, this had been a very good day.
Anyone who falls in love with Africa soon begins to identify with the creatures roaming the bush, marveling at their almost human qualities. We almost died of laughter watching the bathing antics of a gigantic rhino, maneuvering her bulk in a tiny mud hole for her morning bath. Her baby tried to emulate mama to no avail. The youngster tried every which way, but failed again and again to make it in. Finally, always under the vigilant eyes of mama, it succeeded and immediately got stuck in the mud, requiring heroic efforts from mama to get out of the hole; it was hilarious.
Thanks to the sharp eyes of the rangers, we encountered some truly bizarre creatures. One day, just past dusk, Dave became animated with an excitement we had never seen before. As word of the sighting wafted from the front of the Land Rover to its rear banquette, we heard “Penguin”. We may be neophytes in the bush compared to Dave, but to the best of our knowledge, penguins are aquatic birds and not found in the bush!!?? It was indeed a rare siting, just not a Penguin - a Pangolin - a rare nocturnal creature that looks like a scaly anteater - no wonder Dave was all excited!
A week after we returned from Leopard Hills, we saw a picture on the camp’s official blog that described, better than any prose I might indulge in, why the camp was appropriately named. The photo showed a fully grown leopard peeking into one of the camp’s suites through the glass doors that open onto the private plunge pool and observation deck! We had been told of these kinds of visitations … but a leopard on your patio? Unbelievable! No wonder they call it LEOPARD HILLS!
When Carol and Bill left Cape Town, we were shocked to discover that we had only a few weeks left of our summer. Since our friends in South Africa take pay back seriously, this triggered a number of invitation which we cheerfully accepted, and which gave us a deeper insight into life in South Africa.
Hettie and Frank Guthrie, whom we met through their daughter, Belinda who regularly grooms Joyce’s nails, invited us to share her signature dish Waterblommetjie Bredie, a delicious lamb shoulder stew that really challenges the skill and patience of the cook; it is, without a doubt, the equivalent of my Boeuf Bourguinion.
Gill Smith Cox and her husband Peter had us over for a sumptuous beef fillet dinner with their friends with whom they shared a quintessentially British culture and heritage. Dinner was outstanding.
Another highlight was a splendid and elegant luncheon that Linda Hightower, an American expat living in Franschhoek organized for us at her magnificently remodeling home. The home included a marvelously equipped country kitchen and free flowing space for lavish entertainment. But what was really amazing was that, at the schwerpunkt (focal point) of the Cape Town fine wine and dining district, most of the 12 guests had a connection to South Florida! We had originally met Linda last year on our way to the Robertson Slow wine festival and just knew she would prove to be great fun to be around. Her friends had widely diverse backgrounds and personal histories. They were all extremely well travelled and, throughout our visit, we shared with them a huge number of instances where our respective lives had intersected.
Also in the Winelands, we had a farewell lunch with Jax and Archie Preuss and their beautiful and precocious 2 year old daughter, Robin. They had a novel idea - a bucolic picnic lunch at the Warwick Winery. The setting was uniquely serene and included a communal nap on pillows haphazardly strewn on the grass. This made it possible for some of us to sleep off the effects of the “Black Lady”, one of the winery’s signature products.
One of the splurges during our stay in Cape Town was to attend an intimate wine and food pairing diner at the spiffy Twelve Apostle, one of Cape Town’s most prestigious hotels. Best of all, the wine being tasted was Waterford, so it would give us another opportunity to see Francois Haasbroek. We decided to spend the night so we could really enjoy the hotel and also avoid driving home after so much wine. The Twelve Apostles, named after the twelve rocky promontories that extend their peaks above the hotel, is an architectural exercise in verticality. Carved deep into the rock is their recently renovated state-of-the-art spa, complete with hot, cold and whirlpool bathing facilities plus a dead sea pool saturated with a salt-like material that increased the buoyancy of the water to the same levels found in Jordan and Israel at the Dead Sea. Having experienced this in both Jordan and Israel, I can attest to the veracity of the spa’s claims!
The food was amazing and paired perfectly with Waterford’s wines. Before the evening was through, Francois gave us a special treat - a taste of the Gem, Waterford’s pride and joy, which is as hard to come by as the Black Lady from Warwick or the even more elusive Journeyman from Boekenhoutskloof! These are limited edition wines not commonly found in retail outlets or most menus. They are often the stars of auctions and expositions and to be able to taste them is a thrill. The Gem was a clear success, as was Francois. Like the wine he was touting, he had really matured since a few year ago when we invited him to dinner and he called the Chocolate Block that I served him with great pride “A little one-dimensional”! In any case, I will always recollect that evening with found memories.
Unfortunately, the time has come for our final dinner - always at the Food Barn - and our customary final lunch at La Colombe on our way to the airport for our return trip to the States. Our list of eateries, places to see, and good friends has grown significantly this year and so has our enchantment with this country, but it is high time for me to sign off.
Thanks for coming to what will become our way of entertaining our favorite people at our “home away from home”!
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