Hello forum,
We’re a family of 4 adults (2 grown daughters) planning our first trip to South Africa for 3 weeks in August 2025, traveling independently.
I’ve been drawing inspiration from several posts on the forum.
I’d like to book our flight tickets and nights in Kruger Park as soon as possible since that’s the most urgent part to finalize, if I understood correctly.
Here’s a first draft of our itinerary (with lots of unknowns about what there’ll be to see/do in Eswatini, Lesotho, Durban, etc.—I feel like the Lesotho leg involves a lot of driving).
I’d really appreciate input from the experts to help us craft a great trip.
Thanks in advance!
Day 1
Departure from Paris
Day 2
Morning
Early arrival in Johannesburg
Pick up rental car
Groceries
Afternoon
Sightseeing
Night in AirBNB near Johannesburg (1/1)
Day 3
Morning
Drive to Blyde River Canyon (500 km - 6h30)
Afternoon
Visit the canyon
Night in AirBNB near Blyde River Canyon (1/1)
Day 4
Morning
Drive to central Kruger (200 km - 3h30)
Night in Rest Camp (1/2)
Day 5
Night in Rest Camp (2/2)
Day 6
Morning
Drive to southern Kruger (150 km - 3h)
Night in Rest Camp (1/3)
Day 7
Night in Rest Camp (2/3)
Day 8
Night in Rest Camp (3/3)
Day 9
Morning
Drive to Mbabane (Eswatini) (250 km - 4h)
Night in AirBNB or other (1/1)
Day 10
Morning
Drive to Maputaland (300 km - 4h)
Afternoon
Swimming (hippos and crocs?)
Night in AirBNB or other (1/1)
Day 11
Morning
Drive to Hluhluwe-Umfolozi (130 km - 2h)
Night in Rest Camp (1/2)
Day 12
Night in Rest Camp (2/2)
Day 13
Morning
Drive to Durban (250 km - 3h)
Night in AirBNB (1/1)
Day 14
Morning
First half of drive to Lesotho (225 km - 4h)
Night in AirBNB or other (1/1)
Day 15
Morning
Second half of drive to Lesotho (225 km - 4h)
Night in AirBNB or other (1/1)
Day 16
Morning
First half of drive to Drakensberg (250 km - 4h)
Night in AirBNB or other (1/1)
Day 17
Morning
Second half of drive to Drakensberg (250 km - 4h)
Night in AirBNB or other (1/2)
Day 18
Night in AirBNB or other (2/2)
Day 19
Morning
Drive to Johannesburg (300 km - 4h)
Night in AirBNB (1/2)
Day 20
Night in AirBNB (2/2)
Day 21
Morning
Departure in early afternoon
Day 22
Arrival in Paris
79 similar discussions in English
Hi everyone,
I’m reaching out today to gather some great tips for the second part of our trip to South Africa, which will take place from 03/21 to 04/11. We don’t want to rush too much either. We’ll start in Cape Town (tickets already booked) since it seems like a good time to visit this region—except for the whales in Hermanus, which we won’t be seeing. Oh, and I almost forgot, we’re renting a car for both legs of the trip for more freedom.
The first part is planned like this:
- 03/21: Arrival in Cape Town, staying until 03/24 - 03/25: Visit to the Cape, including a stop in Simon’s Town - 2 nights in Stellenbosch from 03/26 to 03/28 - 3 nights in Knysna to explore the area from 03/28 to 03/31 - 03/31: Flight from Port Elizabeth to Durban, where we’ll spend one night in Umhlanga
After that, I’m a bit lost 🙂. Next, I was thinking of doing:
2 nights in St. Lucia 2 nights in Eswatini 4 nights in Kruger Park (2 nights in Skukuza and 2 nights in Balule to visit a private reserve) 1 night at Blyde Canyon 1 night somewhere to get closer to Johannesburg (Graskop?) since we’ll need to return the car by around 11:00 AM on 04/11.
So, does the second part make sense or not? I’ve done quite a bit of research, but I’m still a little lost . We can’t wait to be there, and your valuable advice would be very welcome. Thanks so much in advance, and have a great day! Luis
The first part is planned like this:
- 03/21: Arrival in Cape Town, staying until 03/24 - 03/25: Visit to the Cape, including a stop in Simon’s Town - 2 nights in Stellenbosch from 03/26 to 03/28 - 3 nights in Knysna to explore the area from 03/28 to 03/31 - 03/31: Flight from Port Elizabeth to Durban, where we’ll spend one night in Umhlanga
After that, I’m a bit lost 🙂. Next, I was thinking of doing:
2 nights in St. Lucia 2 nights in Eswatini 4 nights in Kruger Park (2 nights in Skukuza and 2 nights in Balule to visit a private reserve) 1 night at Blyde Canyon 1 night somewhere to get closer to Johannesburg (Graskop?) since we’ll need to return the car by around 11:00 AM on 04/11.
So, does the second part make sense or not? I’ve done quite a bit of research, but I’m still a little lost . We can’t wait to be there, and your valuable advice would be very welcome. Thanks so much in advance, and have a great day! Luis
Hi there,
We’re heading to South Africa for 17 days at the end of July/beginning of August with our two kids.
We’re planning 4 days in the Drakensberg: 2 days at Royal Natal and two more to do the Sani Pass (but going through a local agency at Sani Lodge).
We’ve rented a Toyota Corolla. Is that enough?
Also, do you have any suggestions for accommodations in the area? Or other ideas for those 4 days?
Thanks so much for your tips!
Happy holidays! !
Hi there,
Here’s a quick summary of six trips across Southern Africa, covering South Africa, Namibia, Botswana, Zimbabwe, and more. I traveled for a total of 23 months, over 100,000 km, and crossed 9 countries from South Africa to Tanzania. To do this, I bought an old Land Cruiser—a 1989 BJ 75 with a long chassis and a 3.4L turbo engine—which I converted into a bush camper set up for self-sufficiency in Africa: dual fuel tanks (235 L total) plus 2 x 20-liter jerry cans of diesel, 2 spare tires, a compressor, a toolbox with repair gear, a 50-liter water tank plus 2 x 30-liter and 2 x 10-liter jerry cans, a roof tent, multiple storage boxes, a sturdy roof rack, and even a paramotor. I also packed a first-aid kit and shipped the camper to South Africa by freight. My son joined me for part of the journey.
Key countries and highlights: South Africa in every direction, including its wildlife parks; in Namibia, the classics like Etosha, Fish River, Sossusvlei, Kaudum, but especially Damaraland and Kaokoland; in Botswana, a full loop of the Okavango, crossing the Makgadikgadi Pan, Moremi Park, the Linyanti River; and a tour of Zimbabwe with its national parks. During the last trip in 2020, due to COVID, we found refuge on a 250 km² Namibian farm with its own wildlife reserve. While crossing Damaraland and Kaokoland, we were completely self-sufficient, with supplies for over a month and 130 L of water.
In South Africa and Namibia, one issue that surprised us was the fences stretching for millions of kilometers along the tracks. Namibia is one and a half times the size of France but has a population of only about 2.5 million, mostly concentrated in a dozen small towns of 10,000 to 50,000 people—except for the capital, Windhoek (296,000). Paradoxically, compared to France, the space for freedom is extremely limited. Everything is private and requires payment. Even the Namib Desert is fenced... and you need a permit just to pick up a rock! For someone used to wild camping, it can get frustrating. Sometimes we ignored the rules, but the best solution is to ask a farmer (a real one, like a sheep or cattle rancher—not the ones with 3-meter electrified fences, which are lodges or private reserves) if you can camp on their land.
To truly enjoy freedom in Namibia, you need to venture into the northwest, along the Skeleton Coast, in Damaraland and Kaokoland. However, it’s essential to know your vehicle inside out, be a good mechanic, bring spare parts, and plan for potential breakdowns. Take care of your ride because a major issue out there can be a matter of survival. My motto: "Don’t break down, don’t break down, don’t break down..." Safari pros only venture into this region with two 4x4s. In Messum Crater, we met a couple waiting for rescue (thanks to a satellite device from their rental company) after their driveshaft broke. Keep in mind that in these areas, you’ll cover about 80 km in 8 hours.
Here are some of the issues we faced: a broken rear suspension leaf, several broken bolts on the front leaf springs, the spare tire mount breaking multiple times (replaced on the spot), a cracked water radiator in 1998 causing overheating and a seized valve stem in its guide, plus a bent rocker arm (field repair, valve adjustment, damaged head gasket, daily radiator refills, and a scratched cylinder—engine fully rebuilt upon return). Five roof rack mounts broke and were repaired at a technical high school in South Africa. The battery mount also broke (fixed with a steel plate found on the trail). The fuel filter clogged several times (changed or cleaned on the spot). A huge impact on the windshield from a piece of coal falling from a power plant supply truck (temporary repair with Araldite). The brake master cylinder failed in Marienfluss (repaired, seals replaced in Tsumeb). Multiple flat tires from acacia thorns. The rear door latch broke (homemade aluminum rod repair in Franschhoek). The voltmeter and ammeter failed (repaired on the spot). During the freight trip, despite locking the doors and having a partition between the front and back, someone managed to get in through the small side window, forced open the locks on two accessible storage boxes, and stole my tools (replaced later). A ball joint on the paramotor frame came loose mid-flight, damaging the wing and propeller (propeller shipped from France, homemade repair).
Health issues on the way to Tanzania: a painful sciatica and many sleepless nights (cortisone injection in Dodoma).
Kaokoland, Namibia—the northwest region: https://youtu.be/DzGepFsrnZs
Damaraland: https://youtu.be/DITQj8NvLZ4
Botswana: https://youtu.be/TEvDG0S62hg
Kaudom and Mohembo Parks: https://youtu.be/wq_Yf7jNLhw
Here’s a quick summary of six trips across Southern Africa, covering South Africa, Namibia, Botswana, Zimbabwe, and more. I traveled for a total of 23 months, over 100,000 km, and crossed 9 countries from South Africa to Tanzania. To do this, I bought an old Land Cruiser—a 1989 BJ 75 with a long chassis and a 3.4L turbo engine—which I converted into a bush camper set up for self-sufficiency in Africa: dual fuel tanks (235 L total) plus 2 x 20-liter jerry cans of diesel, 2 spare tires, a compressor, a toolbox with repair gear, a 50-liter water tank plus 2 x 30-liter and 2 x 10-liter jerry cans, a roof tent, multiple storage boxes, a sturdy roof rack, and even a paramotor. I also packed a first-aid kit and shipped the camper to South Africa by freight. My son joined me for part of the journey.
Key countries and highlights: South Africa in every direction, including its wildlife parks; in Namibia, the classics like Etosha, Fish River, Sossusvlei, Kaudum, but especially Damaraland and Kaokoland; in Botswana, a full loop of the Okavango, crossing the Makgadikgadi Pan, Moremi Park, the Linyanti River; and a tour of Zimbabwe with its national parks. During the last trip in 2020, due to COVID, we found refuge on a 250 km² Namibian farm with its own wildlife reserve. While crossing Damaraland and Kaokoland, we were completely self-sufficient, with supplies for over a month and 130 L of water.
In South Africa and Namibia, one issue that surprised us was the fences stretching for millions of kilometers along the tracks. Namibia is one and a half times the size of France but has a population of only about 2.5 million, mostly concentrated in a dozen small towns of 10,000 to 50,000 people—except for the capital, Windhoek (296,000). Paradoxically, compared to France, the space for freedom is extremely limited. Everything is private and requires payment. Even the Namib Desert is fenced... and you need a permit just to pick up a rock! For someone used to wild camping, it can get frustrating. Sometimes we ignored the rules, but the best solution is to ask a farmer (a real one, like a sheep or cattle rancher—not the ones with 3-meter electrified fences, which are lodges or private reserves) if you can camp on their land.
To truly enjoy freedom in Namibia, you need to venture into the northwest, along the Skeleton Coast, in Damaraland and Kaokoland. However, it’s essential to know your vehicle inside out, be a good mechanic, bring spare parts, and plan for potential breakdowns. Take care of your ride because a major issue out there can be a matter of survival. My motto: "Don’t break down, don’t break down, don’t break down..." Safari pros only venture into this region with two 4x4s. In Messum Crater, we met a couple waiting for rescue (thanks to a satellite device from their rental company) after their driveshaft broke. Keep in mind that in these areas, you’ll cover about 80 km in 8 hours.
Here are some of the issues we faced: a broken rear suspension leaf, several broken bolts on the front leaf springs, the spare tire mount breaking multiple times (replaced on the spot), a cracked water radiator in 1998 causing overheating and a seized valve stem in its guide, plus a bent rocker arm (field repair, valve adjustment, damaged head gasket, daily radiator refills, and a scratched cylinder—engine fully rebuilt upon return). Five roof rack mounts broke and were repaired at a technical high school in South Africa. The battery mount also broke (fixed with a steel plate found on the trail). The fuel filter clogged several times (changed or cleaned on the spot). A huge impact on the windshield from a piece of coal falling from a power plant supply truck (temporary repair with Araldite). The brake master cylinder failed in Marienfluss (repaired, seals replaced in Tsumeb). Multiple flat tires from acacia thorns. The rear door latch broke (homemade aluminum rod repair in Franschhoek). The voltmeter and ammeter failed (repaired on the spot). During the freight trip, despite locking the doors and having a partition between the front and back, someone managed to get in through the small side window, forced open the locks on two accessible storage boxes, and stole my tools (replaced later). A ball joint on the paramotor frame came loose mid-flight, damaging the wing and propeller (propeller shipped from France, homemade repair).
Health issues on the way to Tanzania: a painful sciatica and many sleepless nights (cortisone injection in Dodoma).
Kaokoland, Namibia—the northwest region: https://youtu.be/DzGepFsrnZs
Damaraland: https://youtu.be/DITQj8NvLZ4
Botswana: https://youtu.be/TEvDG0S62hg
Kaudom and Mohembo Parks: https://youtu.be/wq_Yf7jNLhw
Hi everyone...
Must be around 5,000 photos to sort through!
Makes sense after 3 intense weeks in SA.
Anyway, to set the mood, here are a few photos... Well, yeah, they’re not amazing!
Suspense, suspense...
Must be around 5,000 photos to sort through!
Makes sense after 3 intense weeks in SA.
Anyway, to set the mood, here are a few photos... Well, yeah, they’re not amazing!
Suspense, suspense...
Hi there,
Hope the pros are on the lookout!
March or May 2027. Around 15 days in the Western Cape, then 15 days in the southern KNP.
Arrival either in PE or George. The pros know I’m somewhat familiar with the area... that I don’t camp... that my accommodations can be simple and remote, self-catering but with basic comforts... that I’m looking for spots that are a bit off the beaten path... in a relaxed mode... From George: Late arrival... need some rest... Herolds Bay from George to the N1. Tsitsikamma is catching my eye (Storms River)... with or without a stop in Knysna. Question: What’s the current condition of the pass from Knysna to Uniondale? R339. And while I’m at it, the condition of the R340. Tsitsikamma, Knysna, and my questions still apply if arriving in PE.
Is the Swartberg still closed? Any recommendations for accommodation in Prince Albert? If I cross the escarpment, I’ll continue via Anysberg NR, Touwsrivier... any thoughts? From there... Tankwa Karoo or Mount Cedar (or both). Then heading back down to the coast... the highlands of Hermanus or Kogelberg NR (any opinions on the latter?).
Or,
A more classic route along the coast...
If I arrive (fairly late) in PE... any ideas for accommodation in that little area? Given that Nyathi Camp is winking at me... (For context... a while back, I stayed at Riverbend (same Addo sector, private concession)... and I visited the ruins of that abandoned lodge at the time, which has clearly been renovated since... located in a very quiet part of Addo...). Any feedback from the pros? Well, that’s about it... I’m open to any other tips or advice!
March or May 2027. Around 15 days in the Western Cape, then 15 days in the southern KNP.
Arrival either in PE or George. The pros know I’m somewhat familiar with the area... that I don’t camp... that my accommodations can be simple and remote, self-catering but with basic comforts... that I’m looking for spots that are a bit off the beaten path... in a relaxed mode... From George: Late arrival... need some rest... Herolds Bay from George to the N1. Tsitsikamma is catching my eye (Storms River)... with or without a stop in Knysna. Question: What’s the current condition of the pass from Knysna to Uniondale? R339. And while I’m at it, the condition of the R340. Tsitsikamma, Knysna, and my questions still apply if arriving in PE.
Is the Swartberg still closed? Any recommendations for accommodation in Prince Albert? If I cross the escarpment, I’ll continue via Anysberg NR, Touwsrivier... any thoughts? From there... Tankwa Karoo or Mount Cedar (or both). Then heading back down to the coast... the highlands of Hermanus or Kogelberg NR (any opinions on the latter?).
Or,
A more classic route along the coast...
If I arrive (fairly late) in PE... any ideas for accommodation in that little area? Given that Nyathi Camp is winking at me... (For context... a while back, I stayed at Riverbend (same Addo sector, private concession)... and I visited the ruins of that abandoned lodge at the time, which has clearly been renovated since... located in a very quiet part of Addo...). Any feedback from the pros? Well, that’s about it... I’m open to any other tips or advice!
Hello,
I’m reaching out because I’ve already read tons of info from other forums (thanks a million, by the way!) and blogs, but now I’m overwhelmed with details and have so many questions. I’m really hoping you can help us figure this out! Here’s the plan: We’re leaving France for Senegal in our camper van (with two kids, aged 4 and 7), then shipping the van to South Africa before heading to Namibia. We’re planning to leave this summer and should arrive in South Africa in early September. The goal is to reach Réunion by early December, which gives us 3 months to explore Southern Africa. Originally, we wanted to pick up the van in Cape Town, head up to Namibia, and visit the main parks and iconic spots, then go north to Botswana (Etosha Park) and Zimbabwe (Victoria Falls) before heading back down to South Africa to enjoy the milder temperatures while exploring the country. But now we’re wondering how to get back to South Africa. We’ve come up with three options: - Head back down through Botswana: I’ve read everywhere that Botswana isn’t recommended for kids under 6 (most parks) because it can be potentially dangerous—few enclosures for animals (even though we have a camper van with "secure" beds), and the agencies we’ve contacted don’t recommend it. Plus, southern Botswana is tough to navigate in a camper van. - Return from central Botswana (Maun) to Windhoek and drive back to Cape Town via Namibia. - Cross Zimbabwe and potentially Mozambique to head down to Kruger Park and Johannesburg.
Anyone familiar with this region have any recommendations?
Also, is it necessary to book accommodations in advance? Is that only required in certain countries (maybe Botswana/Zimbabwe)? We’d like a mix of camping and lodges.
All advice is welcome!
I’m reaching out because I’ve already read tons of info from other forums (thanks a million, by the way!) and blogs, but now I’m overwhelmed with details and have so many questions. I’m really hoping you can help us figure this out! Here’s the plan: We’re leaving France for Senegal in our camper van (with two kids, aged 4 and 7), then shipping the van to South Africa before heading to Namibia. We’re planning to leave this summer and should arrive in South Africa in early September. The goal is to reach Réunion by early December, which gives us 3 months to explore Southern Africa. Originally, we wanted to pick up the van in Cape Town, head up to Namibia, and visit the main parks and iconic spots, then go north to Botswana (Etosha Park) and Zimbabwe (Victoria Falls) before heading back down to South Africa to enjoy the milder temperatures while exploring the country. But now we’re wondering how to get back to South Africa. We’ve come up with three options: - Head back down through Botswana: I’ve read everywhere that Botswana isn’t recommended for kids under 6 (most parks) because it can be potentially dangerous—few enclosures for animals (even though we have a camper van with "secure" beds), and the agencies we’ve contacted don’t recommend it. Plus, southern Botswana is tough to navigate in a camper van. - Return from central Botswana (Maun) to Windhoek and drive back to Cape Town via Namibia. - Cross Zimbabwe and potentially Mozambique to head down to Kruger Park and Johannesburg.
Anyone familiar with this region have any recommendations?
Also, is it necessary to book accommodations in advance? Is that only required in certain countries (maybe Botswana/Zimbabwe)? We’d like a mix of camping and lodges.
All advice is welcome!
Hi everyone,
It's official—I've got our flight tickets for next October! Two weeks with my 16-year-old son, aiming to see plenty of big animals and birds.
Thanks to all of you for the wealth of information on this site.
After going through a good chunk of the forum and travel journals about South Africa, I think my itinerary is ready...
I’ve planned 2 days with long drives to minimize time spent outside the parks. These are Sunday the 18th: Johannesburg Airport to Hluhluwe-Umfolozi Reserve, and Friday the 23rd: St. Lucia to Nelspruit (staying in South Africa) or as close as possible to visit the Canyon the next day.
I’d love to hear your thoughts on the itinerary, especially these 2 days—are they doable or not? Should I book in advance, or will there be places to sleep along the way if we don’t make it to our planned destination? What’s the crowd level in South Africa in October?
As for Kruger, I’ve chosen campsites with camping facilities, prioritizing the "satellite" camps, at least in the northern part!! I’ve planned to change camps almost every day to combine travel and wildlife spotting, but is this the right choice?
The itinerary:
Sunday 18th Arrival at 8:50 AM in Johannesburg Drive to Hluhluwe-Umfolozi Reserve 530 km, 7h20 1 night (18th–19th) at the northern gate
Monday 19th Hluhluwe-Umfolozi Reserve 1h30, 50 km 2nd night (19th–20th) southeast of the reserve
Tuesday 20th Hluhluwe-Umfolozi Reserve 3rd night (20th–21st) southeast of the reserve or Mpila
Wednesday 21st Reserve and drive to St. Lucia Drive to St. Lucia: 1h, 50 km Crocodile and hippo boat tour at 3 PM 4th night (21st–22nd) in St. Lucia Sugarloaf Campsites
Thursday 22nd Whale-watching tour 7–9 AM (or the next day) Cap Vidal, day trip: 70 km round trip 5th night (22nd–23rd) in St. Lucia Sugarloaf Campsites
Friday 23rd Drive to Nelspruit 541 km, 7h Night in Nelspruit 6th night (23rd–24th) in Graskop
Saturday 24th Blyde River Canyon 150 km, 2h + stops 7th night (24th–25th) at Blyde Canyon Forever Resort
Sunday 25th (Kruger Day 1) Leopard Trail hike: 3h Drive to Kruger, Phalaborwa Gate 136 km, 2h to the park entrance 75 km, 3h to Mopani - Tzende 8th night (25th–26th) Kruger 1: Tsendze
Monday 26th (Kruger Day 2) Drive to Balule: 84 km, 3h20 9th night (26th–27th) Kruger 2: Balule
Tuesday 27th (Kruger Day 3) Drive to Satara: 160 km, 6h25 10th night (27th–28th) Kruger 3: Satara
Wednesday 28th (Kruger Day 4) Kruger 11th night (28th–29th) Kruger 4: Satara
Thursday 29th (Kruger Day 5) Kruger 12th night (29th–30th) Kruger 5: Skukuza
Friday 30th (Kruger Day 6) Kruger 13th night (30th–31st) Kruger 6: Lower Sabi
Saturday 31st (Kruger Day 7) Kruger 14th night (31st–1st) Kruger 7: Berg-en-Dal
Sunday 31st Departure: flight at 9:15 PM (must be at the airport by 6 PM max) Morning in Kruger, then drive 400 km, 5h30—departure by 11 AM max
Thanks in advance for your feedback! Claude
It's official—I've got our flight tickets for next October! Two weeks with my 16-year-old son, aiming to see plenty of big animals and birds.
Thanks to all of you for the wealth of information on this site.
After going through a good chunk of the forum and travel journals about South Africa, I think my itinerary is ready...
I’ve planned 2 days with long drives to minimize time spent outside the parks. These are Sunday the 18th: Johannesburg Airport to Hluhluwe-Umfolozi Reserve, and Friday the 23rd: St. Lucia to Nelspruit (staying in South Africa) or as close as possible to visit the Canyon the next day.
I’d love to hear your thoughts on the itinerary, especially these 2 days—are they doable or not? Should I book in advance, or will there be places to sleep along the way if we don’t make it to our planned destination? What’s the crowd level in South Africa in October?
As for Kruger, I’ve chosen campsites with camping facilities, prioritizing the "satellite" camps, at least in the northern part!! I’ve planned to change camps almost every day to combine travel and wildlife spotting, but is this the right choice?
The itinerary:
Sunday 18th Arrival at 8:50 AM in Johannesburg Drive to Hluhluwe-Umfolozi Reserve 530 km, 7h20 1 night (18th–19th) at the northern gate
Monday 19th Hluhluwe-Umfolozi Reserve 1h30, 50 km 2nd night (19th–20th) southeast of the reserve
Tuesday 20th Hluhluwe-Umfolozi Reserve 3rd night (20th–21st) southeast of the reserve or Mpila
Wednesday 21st Reserve and drive to St. Lucia Drive to St. Lucia: 1h, 50 km Crocodile and hippo boat tour at 3 PM 4th night (21st–22nd) in St. Lucia Sugarloaf Campsites
Thursday 22nd Whale-watching tour 7–9 AM (or the next day) Cap Vidal, day trip: 70 km round trip 5th night (22nd–23rd) in St. Lucia Sugarloaf Campsites
Friday 23rd Drive to Nelspruit 541 km, 7h Night in Nelspruit 6th night (23rd–24th) in Graskop
Saturday 24th Blyde River Canyon 150 km, 2h + stops 7th night (24th–25th) at Blyde Canyon Forever Resort
Sunday 25th (Kruger Day 1) Leopard Trail hike: 3h Drive to Kruger, Phalaborwa Gate 136 km, 2h to the park entrance 75 km, 3h to Mopani - Tzende 8th night (25th–26th) Kruger 1: Tsendze
Monday 26th (Kruger Day 2) Drive to Balule: 84 km, 3h20 9th night (26th–27th) Kruger 2: Balule
Tuesday 27th (Kruger Day 3) Drive to Satara: 160 km, 6h25 10th night (27th–28th) Kruger 3: Satara
Wednesday 28th (Kruger Day 4) Kruger 11th night (28th–29th) Kruger 4: Satara
Thursday 29th (Kruger Day 5) Kruger 12th night (29th–30th) Kruger 5: Skukuza
Friday 30th (Kruger Day 6) Kruger 13th night (30th–31st) Kruger 6: Lower Sabi
Saturday 31st (Kruger Day 7) Kruger 14th night (31st–1st) Kruger 7: Berg-en-Dal
Sunday 31st Departure: flight at 9:15 PM (must be at the airport by 6 PM max) Morning in Kruger, then drive 400 km, 5h30—departure by 11 AM max
Thanks in advance for your feedback! Claude
Hello there,
As mentioned in the title, this is a travel journal focused on St. Lucia and iSimangaliso ("this place is miraculous" in Zulu) over various trips spanning about twenty years.
The Elephant Coast stretches from Hluhluwe Umfolozi, through St. Lucia and iSimangaliso, all the way to the Mozambique border near Kosi Bay and Tembe. This region was conquered by the Zulus (for context, in the 19th century, the Zulus were just one Bantu group among many—it was a local Napoleon, Shaka, who was both cruel and inventive, conquering and subjugating all other groups to form the Zulu nation). The Tonga were the big losers in this area, and a certain "animosity" is still very noticeable... With our two guides (one Zulu and the other Tonga), we ran into some Tonga folks—definitely not a warm atmosphere. The Tonga were pushed back into the marshes. Fish traps are their main source of wealth. (iSimangaliso is a lagoon and marshland area with several interconnected lakes—it used to be called Vetland Park, and for good reason.) So, lakes, fishing with fish traps...
Traditionally done with raffia boats
Made from forest raffia
Where we spotted a particularly rare and endemic bird (whose name I can’t remember... and I can’t be bothered to dig through my notes)
Here, those are eagles
And they’re pretty brave because... they’re not far away...
Yet we still swim there... with supervision...
So, between St. Lucia and Mozambique, you’ll find marshes, lagoons, lakes, and coastline, with our Tonga friends, Zulu friends, and—just a bit further up—the Tembe... and their king. (I’m showing off a bit because I got to see a king up close, ate in the same room as him, and even talked to him!)
Originally, the Boers tried to farm there... including sugarcane...
But... between the hippos, snakes, crocs, and malaria-carrying mosquitoes... They lost count of the deaths and disappearances.
The story goes that when Madiba (Mandela) came to power, he passed through the area and convinced them to turn it into a natural space that would attract tourists—and that’s when the big change happened.
And it’s pretty incredible to see how this place has evolved, going from extreme poverty to a certain level of gentrification... How this once "chaotic" area saw shops, roads, and housing spring up (I’m mainly talking about Mtubatuba, the nearby Black town). In fact, in St. Lucia now, the homes that aren’t tourist accommodations can be counted on one hand.
St. Lucia has become a "seaside resort"... very busy during school holidays and certain weekends, increasingly cosmopolitan (20 years ago, speaking French was exotic—now it’s completely ordinary).
As mentioned in the title, this is a travel journal focused on St. Lucia and iSimangaliso ("this place is miraculous" in Zulu) over various trips spanning about twenty years.
The Elephant Coast stretches from Hluhluwe Umfolozi, through St. Lucia and iSimangaliso, all the way to the Mozambique border near Kosi Bay and Tembe. This region was conquered by the Zulus (for context, in the 19th century, the Zulus were just one Bantu group among many—it was a local Napoleon, Shaka, who was both cruel and inventive, conquering and subjugating all other groups to form the Zulu nation). The Tonga were the big losers in this area, and a certain "animosity" is still very noticeable... With our two guides (one Zulu and the other Tonga), we ran into some Tonga folks—definitely not a warm atmosphere. The Tonga were pushed back into the marshes. Fish traps are their main source of wealth. (iSimangaliso is a lagoon and marshland area with several interconnected lakes—it used to be called Vetland Park, and for good reason.) So, lakes, fishing with fish traps...
Traditionally done with raffia boats
Made from forest raffia
Where we spotted a particularly rare and endemic bird (whose name I can’t remember... and I can’t be bothered to dig through my notes)
Here, those are eagles
And they’re pretty brave because... they’re not far away...
Yet we still swim there... with supervision...
So, between St. Lucia and Mozambique, you’ll find marshes, lagoons, lakes, and coastline, with our Tonga friends, Zulu friends, and—just a bit further up—the Tembe... and their king. (I’m showing off a bit because I got to see a king up close, ate in the same room as him, and even talked to him!)
Originally, the Boers tried to farm there... including sugarcane...
But... between the hippos, snakes, crocs, and malaria-carrying mosquitoes... They lost count of the deaths and disappearances.
The story goes that when Madiba (Mandela) came to power, he passed through the area and convinced them to turn it into a natural space that would attract tourists—and that’s when the big change happened.
And it’s pretty incredible to see how this place has evolved, going from extreme poverty to a certain level of gentrification... How this once "chaotic" area saw shops, roads, and housing spring up (I’m mainly talking about Mtubatuba, the nearby Black town). In fact, in St. Lucia now, the homes that aren’t tourist accommodations can be counted on one hand.
St. Lucia has become a "seaside resort"... very busy during school holidays and certain weekends, increasingly cosmopolitan (20 years ago, speaking French was exotic—now it’s completely ordinary).
Hi there,
I’ve got a bit of time to share my latest Cape Town – Cape Town trip... A fairly short itinerary, but it was just before heading to Kruger for an extension. In May... Honestly, I’d usually recommend a different time to visit CT—I’ve been there in August, September, and October before. But as they say, "Do as I say, not as I do" or "Only fools never change their minds." Why? Whale season peaks from August to October... and seeing whales right by the shore or breaching out of the water is absolutely spectacular. The end-of-year holiday period—take this year, for example—can get absolutely packed, with beaches closed due to overcrowding, etc. June and July are freezing (for me)... early August isn’t always great either. That said, 2024 saw a September-October with rain, cold, and fog like never before. The Postberg section of West Coast National Park (WCNP) is only open in August and September. Flower season is roughly from mid-August to mid-September.
So, May... The weather? Gorgeous (lucky me!). The route... Not super original (I’ve done it before, though it’s been a while). I didn’t go too far from CT because I prefer slow travel. Cape Town – Langebaan (for WCNP, again) – Cederberg (at Mountain Ceder, again) – Bontebok NP (new to me, and on the way) – De Hoop NR (at De Hoop) – Agulhas NP – Boulders (for Boulders Beach and the peninsula, again and again).
The trip started off badly due to storms in Frankfurt... My overnight flight was delayed until the next day, but via Amsterdam, so a daytime flight instead. A bit stressful, but Lufthansa and KLM handled it well. Now it was my turn to sort things out... "Well, I need you to keep the car for me... I’m arriving tonight!" (aroundaboutcars, a Chinese Haval, blue and 4x4—though I didn’t actually need the 4x4... which waited for me).
"Well, I need you to keep my room for me... I’m arriving *very* late tonight." A hotel perfectly located by the lagoon, right by the gates of WCNP, but still close to Langebaan and its restaurants. I spotted it myself and booked it during Black Friday...
Yep, what was normally a short 1.5-hour drive *in daylight* from the Mother City to Langebaan... was now *at night*. And here I am, usually the one telling people, "Don’t drive at night, folks!" Well, I know the route, and Google won’t let me get lost... until Langebaan, that is. The last few kilometers were rough—"Don’t they put up signs? Don’t they have streetlights?"
Alright, it’s late, the day’s been long—time for bed! !
I’ve got a bit of time to share my latest Cape Town – Cape Town trip... A fairly short itinerary, but it was just before heading to Kruger for an extension. In May... Honestly, I’d usually recommend a different time to visit CT—I’ve been there in August, September, and October before. But as they say, "Do as I say, not as I do" or "Only fools never change their minds." Why? Whale season peaks from August to October... and seeing whales right by the shore or breaching out of the water is absolutely spectacular. The end-of-year holiday period—take this year, for example—can get absolutely packed, with beaches closed due to overcrowding, etc. June and July are freezing (for me)... early August isn’t always great either. That said, 2024 saw a September-October with rain, cold, and fog like never before. The Postberg section of West Coast National Park (WCNP) is only open in August and September. Flower season is roughly from mid-August to mid-September.
So, May... The weather? Gorgeous (lucky me!). The route... Not super original (I’ve done it before, though it’s been a while). I didn’t go too far from CT because I prefer slow travel. Cape Town – Langebaan (for WCNP, again) – Cederberg (at Mountain Ceder, again) – Bontebok NP (new to me, and on the way) – De Hoop NR (at De Hoop) – Agulhas NP – Boulders (for Boulders Beach and the peninsula, again and again).
The trip started off badly due to storms in Frankfurt... My overnight flight was delayed until the next day, but via Amsterdam, so a daytime flight instead. A bit stressful, but Lufthansa and KLM handled it well. Now it was my turn to sort things out... "Well, I need you to keep the car for me... I’m arriving tonight!" (aroundaboutcars, a Chinese Haval, blue and 4x4—though I didn’t actually need the 4x4... which waited for me).
"Well, I need you to keep my room for me... I’m arriving *very* late tonight." A hotel perfectly located by the lagoon, right by the gates of WCNP, but still close to Langebaan and its restaurants. I spotted it myself and booked it during Black Friday...
Yep, what was normally a short 1.5-hour drive *in daylight* from the Mother City to Langebaan... was now *at night*. And here I am, usually the one telling people, "Don’t drive at night, folks!" Well, I know the route, and Google won’t let me get lost... until Langebaan, that is. The last few kilometers were rough—"Don’t they put up signs? Don’t they have streetlights?"
Alright, it’s late, the day’s been long—time for bed! !
Hi everyone,
I’d love to share a little travel journal from our 14-day/12-night road trip with our two teens (14 and 17) in February/March 2020. A huge thank you to all of you who helped me plan this trip to South Africa—your patience with my endless questions was amazing!
We left Lyon on Saturday, February 22 at 7:00 AM and arrived in Johannesburg at 10:00 PM after a short layover in Amsterdam. Flights cost 440 € per person (booked in October), with carry-on luggage. We added just one checked bag for the whole family (80 € round-trip with the free Flying Blue membership). Since we’d be moving around a lot, we packed light! In Lyon, we reserved parking at P5 in advance for 70 € for 14 days. The Air France/KLM flight was smooth. When we landed, we picked up our bags and had booked a night at the Aero Guest Lodge, just 5 minutes from the airport, with a free shuttle and breakfast. All you have to do is send a WhatsApp message when you arrive at the airport to let the shuttle driver know. The tricky part? Finding him in the terminal—he wasn’t holding a sign with the hotel’s name. 🤪 A South African called him for me since my English wasn’t great (and I had to get used to the accent 😛), and helped us spot the driver (who was actually less than 5 meters away!) with other guests. When we got to the hotel: all good, except we were 10 people in a van meant for 7. The room was spacious—one king-size bed and two single beds for the kids—with a simple but clean bathroom, a garden, pool, and breakfast (which we didn’t try). All for 65 €, so an awesome value!
After a restful night, we woke up at 6:00 AM to catch the shuttle back to the airport. Just a heads-up: there’s only one shuttle per hour in the morning, and Kulula canceled our 9:00 AM flight, moving it to 8:00 AM—so no time for breakfast (it starts at 6:30).
We waited 15 minutes in the lovely garden for the driver, who dropped us off at the airport in 5 minutes.
We checked in for our flight to Cape Town, which cost around 40 € (including two checked bags per person).
We grabbed breakfast at the airport instead (less than 20 € for all four of us—one of the nice surprises of South Africa!), and arrived in Cape Town at 10:20 AM.
After quickly picking up our bags, we headed to the Avis counter and left with a Toyota Corolla for 80 € for 4 days (rented with the Flying Blue card—free additional driver).
Everything’s on the left... not easy, but it works if you plan your route well.
We drove to our Airbnb in Constantia. We were surprised to see animals, bikes, and pedestrians on the highway!
We arrived around 11:30 AM at our rental—a huge house in the vineyards, in a super secure neighborhood, about 15-20 minutes from Hout Bay. It felt like Beverly Hills, but with super-high walls and barbed wire around the villas. 😕
We dropped off our bags, changed into shorts (it was around 30°C/86°F), and headed to the Bay Harbour Market in Hout Bay. We had lunch there—such a great vibe! We wandered through the stalls, everyone picked their own dish, and we sat down on the terrace. There was music, artisans of all kinds... a really nice moment.
I’d withdrawn 50 € before leaving... and that gave me change to pay the parking attendant. Lunch cost around 30 € for four, including food and drinks.
After browsing the artisan stalls, we headed to Hout Bay Beach near the restaurant, Marina Wharf (another small tip for the parking attendant—we’d have to get used to that!). We stopped to admire the sea lions. An ice cream for 1 €? No way we were saying no! 🙂
The fatigue was starting to hit, so we headed to the grocery store 10 minutes away (Constantia shopping center) and then had an aperitif in front of the vineyards, opening a delicious bottle of white wine.
I’d love to share a little travel journal from our 14-day/12-night road trip with our two teens (14 and 17) in February/March 2020. A huge thank you to all of you who helped me plan this trip to South Africa—your patience with my endless questions was amazing!
We left Lyon on Saturday, February 22 at 7:00 AM and arrived in Johannesburg at 10:00 PM after a short layover in Amsterdam. Flights cost 440 € per person (booked in October), with carry-on luggage. We added just one checked bag for the whole family (80 € round-trip with the free Flying Blue membership). Since we’d be moving around a lot, we packed light! In Lyon, we reserved parking at P5 in advance for 70 € for 14 days. The Air France/KLM flight was smooth. When we landed, we picked up our bags and had booked a night at the Aero Guest Lodge, just 5 minutes from the airport, with a free shuttle and breakfast. All you have to do is send a WhatsApp message when you arrive at the airport to let the shuttle driver know. The tricky part? Finding him in the terminal—he wasn’t holding a sign with the hotel’s name. 🤪 A South African called him for me since my English wasn’t great (and I had to get used to the accent 😛), and helped us spot the driver (who was actually less than 5 meters away!) with other guests. When we got to the hotel: all good, except we were 10 people in a van meant for 7. The room was spacious—one king-size bed and two single beds for the kids—with a simple but clean bathroom, a garden, pool, and breakfast (which we didn’t try). All for 65 €, so an awesome value!
After a restful night, we woke up at 6:00 AM to catch the shuttle back to the airport. Just a heads-up: there’s only one shuttle per hour in the morning, and Kulula canceled our 9:00 AM flight, moving it to 8:00 AM—so no time for breakfast (it starts at 6:30).
We waited 15 minutes in the lovely garden for the driver, who dropped us off at the airport in 5 minutes.
We checked in for our flight to Cape Town, which cost around 40 € (including two checked bags per person).
We grabbed breakfast at the airport instead (less than 20 € for all four of us—one of the nice surprises of South Africa!), and arrived in Cape Town at 10:20 AM.
After quickly picking up our bags, we headed to the Avis counter and left with a Toyota Corolla for 80 € for 4 days (rented with the Flying Blue card—free additional driver).
Everything’s on the left... not easy, but it works if you plan your route well.
We drove to our Airbnb in Constantia. We were surprised to see animals, bikes, and pedestrians on the highway!
We arrived around 11:30 AM at our rental—a huge house in the vineyards, in a super secure neighborhood, about 15-20 minutes from Hout Bay. It felt like Beverly Hills, but with super-high walls and barbed wire around the villas. 😕We dropped off our bags, changed into shorts (it was around 30°C/86°F), and headed to the Bay Harbour Market in Hout Bay. We had lunch there—such a great vibe! We wandered through the stalls, everyone picked their own dish, and we sat down on the terrace. There was music, artisans of all kinds... a really nice moment.
I’d withdrawn 50 € before leaving... and that gave me change to pay the parking attendant. Lunch cost around 30 € for four, including food and drinks.
After browsing the artisan stalls, we headed to Hout Bay Beach near the restaurant, Marina Wharf (another small tip for the parking attendant—we’d have to get used to that!). We stopped to admire the sea lions. An ice cream for 1 €? No way we were saying no! 🙂
The fatigue was starting to hit, so we headed to the grocery store 10 minutes away (Constantia shopping center) and then had an aperitif in front of the vineyards, opening a delicious bottle of white wine.
Hello everyone,
It’s been a little over a year and a half since we first set foot in South Africa, and ever since, we’ve been dreaming of returning to explore Southern Africa.
First of all, a big thank you to all the forum members—there are so many on this VoyageForum section, some of whom are unconditional and indispensable experts on the destination—for the amazing travel journals that only make you want one thing: to go and discover these stunning lands. The first journal I read was Bruno’s (Montagnard74), and I was completely captivated by the face in the colors of the rainbow nation.
Now it’s my turn to add my small contribution by recounting our two-week trip during the Christmas period in South Africa.
Even though Attila strongly advised against visiting South Africa during the South African summer holidays, we still gave it a try since my husband doesn’t have the option to choose his vacation dates.
So we went during the peak tourist season, with all its drawbacks: difficulties finding accommodations, crowds at certain sites... But on the bright side, it’s the beautiful season in South Africa while it’s gray and cold back home.
For this trip, we wanted to explore Cape Town and its surroundings, which are already packed with things to see. As a result, we didn’t have time to head north without rushing too much. So we planned the following itinerary, staying in the south:
J1: Lyon/Dubai J2: Dubai/Cape Town J3: Table Mountain – Cape Town J4: Botanic Garden - Robben Island J5: Cape Peninsula J6: Cape Agulhas - Gansbaai J7: De Hoop - Swellendam J8: Garden Route - Knysna J9: Garden Route - Addo NP J10: Addo NP J11: Oudtshoorn J12: Little Karoo J13: Wine Route - Cape Town/Dubai J14: Dubai/Lyon
To give you a taste of what we experienced on the South African roads, here’s a little preview of the wildlife and flora we encountered, as well as the beaches and mountains we glimpsed.
The rest here
First of all, a big thank you to all the forum members—there are so many on this VoyageForum section, some of whom are unconditional and indispensable experts on the destination—for the amazing travel journals that only make you want one thing: to go and discover these stunning lands. The first journal I read was Bruno’s (Montagnard74), and I was completely captivated by the face in the colors of the rainbow nation.
Now it’s my turn to add my small contribution by recounting our two-week trip during the Christmas period in South Africa.
Even though Attila strongly advised against visiting South Africa during the South African summer holidays, we still gave it a try since my husband doesn’t have the option to choose his vacation dates.
So we went during the peak tourist season, with all its drawbacks: difficulties finding accommodations, crowds at certain sites... But on the bright side, it’s the beautiful season in South Africa while it’s gray and cold back home.
For this trip, we wanted to explore Cape Town and its surroundings, which are already packed with things to see. As a result, we didn’t have time to head north without rushing too much. So we planned the following itinerary, staying in the south:
J1: Lyon/Dubai J2: Dubai/Cape Town J3: Table Mountain – Cape Town J4: Botanic Garden - Robben Island J5: Cape Peninsula J6: Cape Agulhas - Gansbaai J7: De Hoop - Swellendam J8: Garden Route - Knysna J9: Garden Route - Addo NP J10: Addo NP J11: Oudtshoorn J12: Little Karoo J13: Wine Route - Cape Town/Dubai J14: Dubai/Lyon
To give you a taste of what we experienced on the South African roads, here’s a little preview of the wildlife and flora we encountered, as well as the beaches and mountains we glimpsed.
The rest here
Hello, fellow bird lovers, big mammal enthusiasts, and Southern Africa fans!
The title of this second travel journal obviously references the one that came before it: Three months in Southern Africa in a Ford Figo 😉
That was back in spring 2016, and I was discovering this incredible region of the world with wide-eyed wonder. Though absolutely enchanted by my trip, I’ll admit: I didn’t think I’d be back so soon.
Fortunately, circumstances had other plans. For their 70th birthdays, my parents had the wonderful idea of inviting the whole family—my sister, my brother-in-law, my three nieces, and me—for two weeks in the Cape Town area and Namibia. The only one missing was my godson (the eldest), who was tied up in Switzerland for his air traffic controller training.
Of course, I wasn’t going to settle for just this (delicious) taste of adventure… so, as an appetizer, main course, and dessert, I added two and a half months of travels through South Africa, Lesotho, Mozambique, and Zimbabwe (the last two being new to me). What can I say? I’m a travel glutton! 😛
Here’s the general outline of my itinerary, with details to come as I share the story:
With family (March 29 to April 13, 2018)
South Africa (5 days) Namibia (9 days)
Solo (April 13 to June 30, 2018)
Zimbabwe: Victoria Falls (5 days) South Africa and Lesotho (26 days) Mozambique (21 days) Zimbabwe (10 days) South Africa (15 days)
And since I need a cliché to illustrate this journal...
... it’ll be the famous lilac-breasted roller (lilac-breasted roller), one of my little favorites (I might even make it my profile picture, actually)!
I have to say, in 2016, exploring Southern Africa multiplied my interest (already strong, but mostly limited to vultures and raptors) in avian wildlife. 🙂
Happy reading!
P.S. Beyond sharing, I’m also counting on this journal to motivate me to finally sort through the roughly 10,000 photos that have been sitting on a hard drive for four months. 🤪😏
The title of this second travel journal obviously references the one that came before it: Three months in Southern Africa in a Ford Figo 😉
That was back in spring 2016, and I was discovering this incredible region of the world with wide-eyed wonder. Though absolutely enchanted by my trip, I’ll admit: I didn’t think I’d be back so soon.
Fortunately, circumstances had other plans. For their 70th birthdays, my parents had the wonderful idea of inviting the whole family—my sister, my brother-in-law, my three nieces, and me—for two weeks in the Cape Town area and Namibia. The only one missing was my godson (the eldest), who was tied up in Switzerland for his air traffic controller training.
Of course, I wasn’t going to settle for just this (delicious) taste of adventure… so, as an appetizer, main course, and dessert, I added two and a half months of travels through South Africa, Lesotho, Mozambique, and Zimbabwe (the last two being new to me). What can I say? I’m a travel glutton! 😛
Here’s the general outline of my itinerary, with details to come as I share the story:
With family (March 29 to April 13, 2018)
South Africa (5 days) Namibia (9 days)
Solo (April 13 to June 30, 2018)
Zimbabwe: Victoria Falls (5 days) South Africa and Lesotho (26 days) Mozambique (21 days) Zimbabwe (10 days) South Africa (15 days)
And since I need a cliché to illustrate this journal...
... it’ll be the famous lilac-breasted roller (lilac-breasted roller), one of my little favorites (I might even make it my profile picture, actually)!I have to say, in 2016, exploring Southern Africa multiplied my interest (already strong, but mostly limited to vultures and raptors) in avian wildlife. 🙂
Happy reading!
P.S. Beyond sharing, I’m also counting on this journal to motivate me to finally sort through the roughly 10,000 photos that have been sitting on a hard drive for four months. 🤪😏
Inside South Africa
The Burst Hose. The passenger is so impatient to arrive that the coachman whips a horse that barely tolerates the mistreatment. I can tell she’s gearing up for a kick, and suddenly, at full gallop, she stops responding. If I press the spur, she cuts out but accepts a half-pressed pedal. She pulled this stunt last year, right in the middle of the Kalahari Desert, and I can guess the trick: she blew a hose! An hour at a slow trot brings us to a Ford garage. A workshop manager, as sullen as he is efficient, has the necessary parts removed to reach the hose, then announces he doesn’t have the spare part and will need a week to get it. I suggest taking advantage of the access to make a temporary repair on the tear, but he refuses, arguing the pressure is so high that the patch would give way immediately—"It’s not a Testarossa, after all!" After reassembly, he refuses to charge us anything and advises us to head to the next town, 200 kilometers away—off we go for another four hours. Semi-trailers overtake us without mercy; I’m reminded of *Duel*. At the Land Rover dealership, we learn the part will take two working days to arrive, and it’s Thursday. I decide to have the hose delivered to the house without wheels—I’ll change it myself. Five hours later, climbing the pass in first gear, we reach the object of her desires. * Hide and Seek In Brittany, my neighbor is a taciturn, touchy fisherman. He’s anchored his old boat in the middle of the estuary that separates two departments and uses it as a storage space. It’s a jumble of nets, buoys, and traps. The old wooden vessel is falling apart, and the hull’s paint is nothing but a distant memory—so much so that the Maritime Affairs Directorate of his department orders him to remove it or repaint it. Asterix also runs a restaurant on the harbor, where he treats customers to his catch. One Sunday afternoon, we see him loading cooks, servers, and dishwashers armed with rollers, brushes, and paint cans into dinghies. Off they go for two hours of slapdash painting and laughter. Once the starboard side is done, everyone returns to prepare for the evening service. The port side will wait until the Maritime Affairs Directorate from the other department reacts. This story came back to me when I got home: the side visible from the road had been repainted, but the other side was left as is. * The Blonde, the Red, the White, and the Black Many workers are paid at the end of each week, but alcohol sales for takeaway are banned on Saturdays and Sundays. So, on Friday nights, the bars are packed, and liquor stores never empty—of people who are already full. Their limited means reduce them to cheap, harsh wines or bland beers. Yet, they still end up wasted.
* Seven In mainland France, you can easily raise seven sheep per hectare. In the Great Karoo, it takes seven hectares of sparse but tasty vegetation to feed just one sheep. Not to mention the energy spent moving around. Add to that the fact that a French sheep produces about one and a half lambs per year, while here, between droughts and jackals, it’s closer to 0.7, and you’ll understand why, with a 7,000-hectare farm—the local basic unit—a South African farmer’s income barely exceeds that of a farm a hundred times smaller in Brittany. This weekend, the annual agricultural show is taking place at the fairgrounds. Some come from far away, so a procession of pickups, trailers, and trucks loaded with sheep makes its way up the main street: we’re definitely in the Karoo. I expected a competition of lean, wiry ascetics, able to pass on traits useful to the environment, but I suspect these bodybuilder show animals don’t just graze on the bush and are doped with alfalfa. Besides, I caught a dealer red-handed with a bag of pellets. * They’re Not Dolls Ken is a professional hunting guide, working independently. When it’s not hunting season, he goes fishing for clients, mainly in the United States. He says Trump’s election—whom he slightly resembles, though younger—would be good for his business, but he doesn’t like Trump, nor, it seems, his clients much. He wanted to be a farmer, but in the post-apartheid context, taking over a farm was a gamble. His wife, who’s more beautiful than Barbie and Melania, silently agrees. * Neighbors That’s the problem with women: their *it girl* side. Within a year of her moving in, we got two new neighbors. One on the other side of the track, the other half an hour away (here, that’s *next door*). One only travels at the controls of his black helicopter, the other aboard his private Boeing 737. The first is a very wealthy farmer from the northeast of the country who’s expanding into the Karoo. He just bought two non-contiguous farms of 6,000 hectares each. I still don’t know what the owner of the farm in between is thinking. The newcomer plans to create a wildlife reserve for breeding purposes; our future neighbors will be giraffes, rhinos, and antelopes, including rare species like the Sable. They say he’s a man in a hurry, determined: when the municipality dragged its feet on his request to refurbish the public track that serves as our border, he just went ahead and did it himself. It was a historic farm, crossed by paths leading to other farms, home to a pond full of birds where water from the mountain ends up after the villagers have taken their share. That’s where the golf course I was about to become the 29th member of was located. Now, it’s all closed off, fenced, and lined with monumental gates. The Wild West in the Western Cape. Is it because his name ends in ‘-ski’ that rumors link him to Slavic mafias and advise against crossing him? The same rumors say he’s involved in the uranium market—well, there’s uranium in the Karoo’s subsoil. The second neighbor is a Saudi prince who just bought a modestly sized farm—3,500 hectares—but don’t think he’s a minor prince. He paid four and a half times the market price to get it! The farm had been in the same family for two centuries, and the owners refused to even consider selling. The prince’s agent—money, in this case, black gold—kept coming back every week despite repeated refusals, finally saying his client wanted this farm at any price. A price they were asked to set. And that’s how you sell your ancestors’ graves. There are plenty of huge farms for sale here, but the prince was looking for a property where he wouldn’t see any roads, tracks, or other houses or farms. He’ll come a few days a year to hunt. However, he’s annoyed: the runway at the nearest airport, two hours away, isn’t long enough for his private jet, so he’ll have to land in Cape Town, like me, and endure nearly two hours by helicopter. That’s how it goes in South Africa. I’d be curious to know what Julius Malema, leader of the EFF (Economic Freedom Fighters), who advocates the Zimbabwean model of land redistribution, thinks about it.
* Biko The autobiography of a journalist and politician of European descent, South African, is published this week. In 1977, this rookie got her editor’s permission to investigate the death in detention of black leader Steve Biko. The apartheid regime’s political police claimed he had died from a hunger strike. The bold young woman discovered that the medical examiners reported a slightly overweight corpse, and later, it was revealed that Biko had died from abuse, if not torture. Under pressure after publishing her investigation, Helen Zille, disillusioned, gave up journalism and turned to politics. She is one of the white South Africans who fought against apartheid, and it’s reassuring that some people have a conscience that transcends class or race. *
You Have the Watches... …we have the time. Anyone who’s worked with Africans knows this response they occasionally throw at us. Willem, the inconsistent gardener, couldn’t stand the observation: running around the place at top speed, even with a pitchfork over his shoulder, wasn’t getting the job done. So Jan replaced him. We share the same first name—no doubt we’ll accomplish great things. He’s known to be reliable, meaning he shows up for work, and he only speaks Afrikaans. We communicate like at the circus: thumbs up, thumbs down. Jan has the build of a bushman but the bone structure and features of a mixed-race person—multiple mixes. He’s a sprite, always moving, sometimes without purpose or destination (the journey is the path). I lose sight of him—it’s not exactly a virgin forest—and he reappears elsewhere, busy. Jan doesn’t understand wasted water—he must think the same of us trying to cultivate the desert. He’s a gardener like I’m a violinist, virtuosos of playback. After a very light lunch, he lies down on the ground in the shadow of the stables and falls asleep. If his arrival time in the morning is variable, it’s never before the agreed hour, but his departure time is unchanging: it’s 3 PM, no matter what. No point trying to fool him; he can count and shows me the fancy watch eating up his thin wrist. * Colours Veldrift, Oyster Catcher, Lobster Red, Namib, Dune, Lion's Den, Kalahari, Bush Fire, Karoo Dawn, Cape Fynbos, Safari Trail, African Pan, Bushveld Plains, African Queen, Karoo Drift. A bestiary? A herbarium? No, the colors offered by the country’s top paint manufacturer. All the shades of the continent from an armchair. * Pets She loves three mastiffs, a meter tall at the withers. Is it for their beauty? Their breed? Their deterrent power, because knowing these beasts exist, no one would dare enter her property without an invitation? A bit of all that, probably. She won’t say. She loves pets but likes other people’s less, especially the poor ones. So, she actively participates in the campaign to sterilize dogs and cats in the neighboring township. Just think, the poor things can’t afford to feed or care for them, meaning they can’t ensure them a decent life. She and others justify the pets section of the local mini-supermarket. Whether your pet is a puppy, adult, or mature, whether it likes fish or prefers beef (no one thought of a dog-based reference from the township?), you’ll find your happiness. While you order, many locals will only have access to the parking lot to beg. * Democracy in Africa
What would Tocqueville say about Democracy in America this fall? After the father, we had the son; after the husband, and by default, we might get the wife. No one else, really? Let’s not talk about France and its current vaudeville. A Ivorian academic believes African peoples aren’t ready for "Western-style" democracy (caricatured as a free T-shirt buying a vote). Does he know the same is true elsewhere, where many voters vote not for a vision, a project, or convictions, but to protect their own interests? Here in South Africa, national elections were held recently, confirming the ANC’s decline in favor of the Democratic Alliance (DA). Historically (since the end of apartheid) seen as the party of whites (who make up less than 10% of the population), it has managed to rally those disillusioned by the clientelism, incompetence, and corruption of Mandela’s unworthy heirs. The DA now governs five of the country’s six largest cities. In the neighboring township, long after the vote ended, ANC and DA T-shirt wearers cross paths courteously. Today, it’s different. The DA’s national leader is holding a rally in a vacant lot. A few hundred people are there, including a good third of children, three-quarters of them ragged. Not an ANC T-shirt in sight amid the smoke of braais and deafening music. Fewer than ten pale faces: the journalist I’m driving, a local official, and activists. A small convoy of limousines arrives—just four, fewer than any of President Zuma’s offspring’s private stables. The crowd stirs, flags wave, and ululations ring out. Mmusi Maimane is a light-skinned mixed-race man, towering over the assembly, which he gently parts, joining in the dances and posing for selfies. He’ll give his speech, half in English, half in Afrikaans, perched on a truck platform—the meeting’s cost must be bearable for taxpayers. A mediocre populist orator, no doubt, but skilled. Two hours later, in the evening, another gathering. This time in a historic town property. A hundred and fifty people, casual chic, all white except for three mixed-race individuals... and the DA President. A Rotary Club vibe: everyone the town has in terms of farmers, shopkeepers, and entrepreneurs has paid their dues to honor Mmusi Maimane’s visit. His admirers see him as a new Mandela or compare him to Obama; his opponents think he’s being manipulated, and his detractors call him a traitor. He’s under forty, intelligent, and his wife is white. The chance he’ll become President of South Africa isn’t zero. * Posh Port Out, Starboard Home. Sonja, who walks the desert at dawn, calls one of her acquaintances posh, meaning snobbish. She’s got a sharp tongue. Wealthy English people (not the ones sent to Australia as convicts one-way) traveling to India would book their cabin on the port side on the way out and starboard on the way back. That way, they had a view of the coast throughout the journey instead of the ocean’s emptiness—whatever Kersauzon says. I didn’t know that by choosing my seat on the plane, depending on the route and time, so the sun lights up the landscape instead of blinding me, I was being posh. * Cosmopolitan Wine Tasting A pale lookalike of Jacob Zuma, a painter teaching his art in Europe; an Antwerp writer in South Africa; a desert gardener with a surfer look; an Irishwoman teaching yoga in the Karoo; an Afrikaner passionate about world history; another, our host, up to his neck in wine; and two French observers—observed observers. Conversations flow, then bottles, just before some hosts leave. Recurring corruption scandals involving President Zuma and his inner circle. A Chenin Blanc. Napoleon, who could have changed the course of South African history. An unwooded Chardonnay. The snake, a puff adder, one found in her garden. A Sauvignon Blanc. The kudu hit by a car at the village exit, which didn’t survive. A Pinotage. The bloody Anglo-Boer War. A Shiraz named Down to Earth. * Little Patagonia A story of pressure or depression, temperature differentials, or perhaps an age-old war between the elements—almost every day at the end of the afternoon, as if tucking in, the wind rushes down the mountain and gives a free haircut. When it falls, you don’t know where, and you hope it hurt itself and won’t get back up. I’m going to build a mast on the house, hoist the sails, trim them, and sail across the desert—it will remember the sea. *
Meeting in the township.
Since a cover is needed (in black and white)...
The Burst Hose. The passenger is so impatient to arrive that the coachman whips a horse that barely tolerates the mistreatment. I can tell she’s gearing up for a kick, and suddenly, at full gallop, she stops responding. If I press the spur, she cuts out but accepts a half-pressed pedal. She pulled this stunt last year, right in the middle of the Kalahari Desert, and I can guess the trick: she blew a hose! An hour at a slow trot brings us to a Ford garage. A workshop manager, as sullen as he is efficient, has the necessary parts removed to reach the hose, then announces he doesn’t have the spare part and will need a week to get it. I suggest taking advantage of the access to make a temporary repair on the tear, but he refuses, arguing the pressure is so high that the patch would give way immediately—"It’s not a Testarossa, after all!" After reassembly, he refuses to charge us anything and advises us to head to the next town, 200 kilometers away—off we go for another four hours. Semi-trailers overtake us without mercy; I’m reminded of *Duel*. At the Land Rover dealership, we learn the part will take two working days to arrive, and it’s Thursday. I decide to have the hose delivered to the house without wheels—I’ll change it myself. Five hours later, climbing the pass in first gear, we reach the object of her desires. * Hide and Seek In Brittany, my neighbor is a taciturn, touchy fisherman. He’s anchored his old boat in the middle of the estuary that separates two departments and uses it as a storage space. It’s a jumble of nets, buoys, and traps. The old wooden vessel is falling apart, and the hull’s paint is nothing but a distant memory—so much so that the Maritime Affairs Directorate of his department orders him to remove it or repaint it. Asterix also runs a restaurant on the harbor, where he treats customers to his catch. One Sunday afternoon, we see him loading cooks, servers, and dishwashers armed with rollers, brushes, and paint cans into dinghies. Off they go for two hours of slapdash painting and laughter. Once the starboard side is done, everyone returns to prepare for the evening service. The port side will wait until the Maritime Affairs Directorate from the other department reacts. This story came back to me when I got home: the side visible from the road had been repainted, but the other side was left as is. * The Blonde, the Red, the White, and the Black Many workers are paid at the end of each week, but alcohol sales for takeaway are banned on Saturdays and Sundays. So, on Friday nights, the bars are packed, and liquor stores never empty—of people who are already full. Their limited means reduce them to cheap, harsh wines or bland beers. Yet, they still end up wasted.
* Seven In mainland France, you can easily raise seven sheep per hectare. In the Great Karoo, it takes seven hectares of sparse but tasty vegetation to feed just one sheep. Not to mention the energy spent moving around. Add to that the fact that a French sheep produces about one and a half lambs per year, while here, between droughts and jackals, it’s closer to 0.7, and you’ll understand why, with a 7,000-hectare farm—the local basic unit—a South African farmer’s income barely exceeds that of a farm a hundred times smaller in Brittany. This weekend, the annual agricultural show is taking place at the fairgrounds. Some come from far away, so a procession of pickups, trailers, and trucks loaded with sheep makes its way up the main street: we’re definitely in the Karoo. I expected a competition of lean, wiry ascetics, able to pass on traits useful to the environment, but I suspect these bodybuilder show animals don’t just graze on the bush and are doped with alfalfa. Besides, I caught a dealer red-handed with a bag of pellets. * They’re Not Dolls Ken is a professional hunting guide, working independently. When it’s not hunting season, he goes fishing for clients, mainly in the United States. He says Trump’s election—whom he slightly resembles, though younger—would be good for his business, but he doesn’t like Trump, nor, it seems, his clients much. He wanted to be a farmer, but in the post-apartheid context, taking over a farm was a gamble. His wife, who’s more beautiful than Barbie and Melania, silently agrees. * Neighbors That’s the problem with women: their *it girl* side. Within a year of her moving in, we got two new neighbors. One on the other side of the track, the other half an hour away (here, that’s *next door*). One only travels at the controls of his black helicopter, the other aboard his private Boeing 737. The first is a very wealthy farmer from the northeast of the country who’s expanding into the Karoo. He just bought two non-contiguous farms of 6,000 hectares each. I still don’t know what the owner of the farm in between is thinking. The newcomer plans to create a wildlife reserve for breeding purposes; our future neighbors will be giraffes, rhinos, and antelopes, including rare species like the Sable. They say he’s a man in a hurry, determined: when the municipality dragged its feet on his request to refurbish the public track that serves as our border, he just went ahead and did it himself. It was a historic farm, crossed by paths leading to other farms, home to a pond full of birds where water from the mountain ends up after the villagers have taken their share. That’s where the golf course I was about to become the 29th member of was located. Now, it’s all closed off, fenced, and lined with monumental gates. The Wild West in the Western Cape. Is it because his name ends in ‘-ski’ that rumors link him to Slavic mafias and advise against crossing him? The same rumors say he’s involved in the uranium market—well, there’s uranium in the Karoo’s subsoil. The second neighbor is a Saudi prince who just bought a modestly sized farm—3,500 hectares—but don’t think he’s a minor prince. He paid four and a half times the market price to get it! The farm had been in the same family for two centuries, and the owners refused to even consider selling. The prince’s agent—money, in this case, black gold—kept coming back every week despite repeated refusals, finally saying his client wanted this farm at any price. A price they were asked to set. And that’s how you sell your ancestors’ graves. There are plenty of huge farms for sale here, but the prince was looking for a property where he wouldn’t see any roads, tracks, or other houses or farms. He’ll come a few days a year to hunt. However, he’s annoyed: the runway at the nearest airport, two hours away, isn’t long enough for his private jet, so he’ll have to land in Cape Town, like me, and endure nearly two hours by helicopter. That’s how it goes in South Africa. I’d be curious to know what Julius Malema, leader of the EFF (Economic Freedom Fighters), who advocates the Zimbabwean model of land redistribution, thinks about it.
* Biko The autobiography of a journalist and politician of European descent, South African, is published this week. In 1977, this rookie got her editor’s permission to investigate the death in detention of black leader Steve Biko. The apartheid regime’s political police claimed he had died from a hunger strike. The bold young woman discovered that the medical examiners reported a slightly overweight corpse, and later, it was revealed that Biko had died from abuse, if not torture. Under pressure after publishing her investigation, Helen Zille, disillusioned, gave up journalism and turned to politics. She is one of the white South Africans who fought against apartheid, and it’s reassuring that some people have a conscience that transcends class or race. *
You Have the Watches... …we have the time. Anyone who’s worked with Africans knows this response they occasionally throw at us. Willem, the inconsistent gardener, couldn’t stand the observation: running around the place at top speed, even with a pitchfork over his shoulder, wasn’t getting the job done. So Jan replaced him. We share the same first name—no doubt we’ll accomplish great things. He’s known to be reliable, meaning he shows up for work, and he only speaks Afrikaans. We communicate like at the circus: thumbs up, thumbs down. Jan has the build of a bushman but the bone structure and features of a mixed-race person—multiple mixes. He’s a sprite, always moving, sometimes without purpose or destination (the journey is the path). I lose sight of him—it’s not exactly a virgin forest—and he reappears elsewhere, busy. Jan doesn’t understand wasted water—he must think the same of us trying to cultivate the desert. He’s a gardener like I’m a violinist, virtuosos of playback. After a very light lunch, he lies down on the ground in the shadow of the stables and falls asleep. If his arrival time in the morning is variable, it’s never before the agreed hour, but his departure time is unchanging: it’s 3 PM, no matter what. No point trying to fool him; he can count and shows me the fancy watch eating up his thin wrist. * Colours Veldrift, Oyster Catcher, Lobster Red, Namib, Dune, Lion's Den, Kalahari, Bush Fire, Karoo Dawn, Cape Fynbos, Safari Trail, African Pan, Bushveld Plains, African Queen, Karoo Drift. A bestiary? A herbarium? No, the colors offered by the country’s top paint manufacturer. All the shades of the continent from an armchair. * Pets She loves three mastiffs, a meter tall at the withers. Is it for their beauty? Their breed? Their deterrent power, because knowing these beasts exist, no one would dare enter her property without an invitation? A bit of all that, probably. She won’t say. She loves pets but likes other people’s less, especially the poor ones. So, she actively participates in the campaign to sterilize dogs and cats in the neighboring township. Just think, the poor things can’t afford to feed or care for them, meaning they can’t ensure them a decent life. She and others justify the pets section of the local mini-supermarket. Whether your pet is a puppy, adult, or mature, whether it likes fish or prefers beef (no one thought of a dog-based reference from the township?), you’ll find your happiness. While you order, many locals will only have access to the parking lot to beg. * Democracy in Africa
What would Tocqueville say about Democracy in America this fall? After the father, we had the son; after the husband, and by default, we might get the wife. No one else, really? Let’s not talk about France and its current vaudeville. A Ivorian academic believes African peoples aren’t ready for "Western-style" democracy (caricatured as a free T-shirt buying a vote). Does he know the same is true elsewhere, where many voters vote not for a vision, a project, or convictions, but to protect their own interests? Here in South Africa, national elections were held recently, confirming the ANC’s decline in favor of the Democratic Alliance (DA). Historically (since the end of apartheid) seen as the party of whites (who make up less than 10% of the population), it has managed to rally those disillusioned by the clientelism, incompetence, and corruption of Mandela’s unworthy heirs. The DA now governs five of the country’s six largest cities. In the neighboring township, long after the vote ended, ANC and DA T-shirt wearers cross paths courteously. Today, it’s different. The DA’s national leader is holding a rally in a vacant lot. A few hundred people are there, including a good third of children, three-quarters of them ragged. Not an ANC T-shirt in sight amid the smoke of braais and deafening music. Fewer than ten pale faces: the journalist I’m driving, a local official, and activists. A small convoy of limousines arrives—just four, fewer than any of President Zuma’s offspring’s private stables. The crowd stirs, flags wave, and ululations ring out. Mmusi Maimane is a light-skinned mixed-race man, towering over the assembly, which he gently parts, joining in the dances and posing for selfies. He’ll give his speech, half in English, half in Afrikaans, perched on a truck platform—the meeting’s cost must be bearable for taxpayers. A mediocre populist orator, no doubt, but skilled. Two hours later, in the evening, another gathering. This time in a historic town property. A hundred and fifty people, casual chic, all white except for three mixed-race individuals... and the DA President. A Rotary Club vibe: everyone the town has in terms of farmers, shopkeepers, and entrepreneurs has paid their dues to honor Mmusi Maimane’s visit. His admirers see him as a new Mandela or compare him to Obama; his opponents think he’s being manipulated, and his detractors call him a traitor. He’s under forty, intelligent, and his wife is white. The chance he’ll become President of South Africa isn’t zero. * Posh Port Out, Starboard Home. Sonja, who walks the desert at dawn, calls one of her acquaintances posh, meaning snobbish. She’s got a sharp tongue. Wealthy English people (not the ones sent to Australia as convicts one-way) traveling to India would book their cabin on the port side on the way out and starboard on the way back. That way, they had a view of the coast throughout the journey instead of the ocean’s emptiness—whatever Kersauzon says. I didn’t know that by choosing my seat on the plane, depending on the route and time, so the sun lights up the landscape instead of blinding me, I was being posh. * Cosmopolitan Wine Tasting A pale lookalike of Jacob Zuma, a painter teaching his art in Europe; an Antwerp writer in South Africa; a desert gardener with a surfer look; an Irishwoman teaching yoga in the Karoo; an Afrikaner passionate about world history; another, our host, up to his neck in wine; and two French observers—observed observers. Conversations flow, then bottles, just before some hosts leave. Recurring corruption scandals involving President Zuma and his inner circle. A Chenin Blanc. Napoleon, who could have changed the course of South African history. An unwooded Chardonnay. The snake, a puff adder, one found in her garden. A Sauvignon Blanc. The kudu hit by a car at the village exit, which didn’t survive. A Pinotage. The bloody Anglo-Boer War. A Shiraz named Down to Earth. * Little Patagonia A story of pressure or depression, temperature differentials, or perhaps an age-old war between the elements—almost every day at the end of the afternoon, as if tucking in, the wind rushes down the mountain and gives a free haircut. When it falls, you don’t know where, and you hope it hurt itself and won’t get back up. I’m going to build a mast on the house, hoist the sails, trim them, and sail across the desert—it will remember the sea. *
Meeting in the township.Since a cover is needed (in black and white)...
An 80-Day Tour of Southern Africa
Back in South Africa
January 12, 2013, 5:30 AM, Flight BA043 London-Cape Town
Directly below, Windhoek glittered like a tangle of fairy lights still lit and tossed into a box.
The horizon, edged in purple, was setting up a backup fireworks display, and suddenly, like a cherry on the platter and with unbearable intensity, in less than two minutes the entire sun revealed a gray dam and then a vast, untouched massif.
A few more minutes and the glare to the east of the plane was total. In Africa, the sun is swift.
We still had a France to cross before landing, but it felt as if we were already there. To the west, the raking light revealed what looked like acne and long, swollen scars in a desert region that might be the Swartkloofberg. Further still, straight as far as the eye could see, the two parallel tracks of a dirt road.
At 11,500 meters altitude and 940 km/h, we had a sense of stillness until the Orange River appeared, an incongruous serpent, gray edged with green.
The first South African settlements were dotted with trees providing shade, then rivers highlighted by continuous lines of vegetation.
Water and shade that make life possible.
We’ll return here by the backroads.
Half an hour from Cape Town, the plane tilted toward the sea, crossing plantations (likely citrus) and then an explosion of cultivated greenery in circles on either side of an unruly river. Finally, the coastline was no longer just sand and water—a frothy hem, a suture?
A peninsula came into view, forming two magnificent bays, and... a flight attendant firmly instructed me to return to my seat: we’d arrived!
The Colors of Cape Town
The city was dressed up as I like them—deserted, fluid, free of its vendors.
In the parking lot of the endless beach next to the commercial port north of the city, about two hundred people were unloading their goods in front of their pickups or combis, none of which were from this century: mixed-race, ageless Black people, and white folks who looked like they’d stepped out of another era.
After a few minutes, intrigued, I played a game: first looking at the merchandise, then imagining who was selling it, and finally looking at who was actually manning the stall. Tall Black vendors were selling what they often sell in Europe—leather, sunglasses, watches; mixed-race folks offered discount bundles, and the tanned older white people seemed to have emptied their attics.
We left with an antique tin kettle for morning tea over an open fire, a pack of five exercise books (that’s 600 pages to fill), Bill Bryson’s earliest stories in English, some snoek rillettes (a local fish), and—never seen before—tuna biltong and snoek biltong.
In so-called advanced countries, Sunday is for sports: white cyclists dressed like pros sweating diligently, Black street vendors running in loops at red lights to sell trash bags that day; white golfers losing their balls, which a scantily clad Black man retrieves from the water; under the sails of kite surf boards, it’s all blondes, and in the foam, joyful splashes from a bunch of Black kids.
Searching for an unusual spot for lunch, we drove through the fishing port looking for a dive and, at the end of a dead-end road with no warning, we arrived at the Shimmy Beach Club—quite the program.
The place, open for just three weeks, aims to be ultra-trendy. You could be in San Francisco, Lisbon’s docks, or St. Barth. This time, the "visible" staff was diverse, but the clientele was exclusively white, except for one mixed-race couple.
For this Sunday lunch, the women had pulled out all the stops, and local starlets—who’d make ours look tame—were turning the terrace into a frenzy.
At Cape Town’s port, the girls have *port*. The trend seems to be crochet dresses over swimsuits.
For two hours, a team of employees watered and raked the sand, starting over when they finished. A child in a floaty pink dress and a gold headband, but a future adventurer, stepped onto the freshly raked artificial beach sand for the first time.
A lanky mixed-race man dragged a hose across the ground, followed by a white woman—enchanted?—who then started watering the sand herself, carelessly splashing the glass terrace her colleague had just swept. I suspect a tacit work arrangement to keep everyone employed.
A galleon packed with tourists (are there any in the hold? Does it take tourists to Robben Island?) left the port. A helicopter took off in its wake. Trawlers returned, cutting through a ballet of catamarans, their waterlines well above the water: a bad catch.
If there’s one country where you can’t pretend to ignore skin color, it’s this one. The question is in everyone’s mind, and here more than anywhere else, it’s a decisive economic and political factor.
Columbine of Brittany
200 km north of Cape Town and 9,000 km south of the Breton coast, but on the same cold ocean, we camped on the shore of the Columbine Cape Nature Reserve, sheltered by a rocky chaos that, at first light tomorrow, would transport us to Perros-Guirec.
Our first encounter with wild animals wouldn’t end well for them: it was crayfish season, and they were the size of lobsters at Lorient’s fish market. Bought for R60 (5.5 €) a pair from kids in Pater Noster, they’d end up between two rocks, over a fire. But first, we had to pair the Chenin blanc with some snoek biltong.
With no wood, I lit a fire at dawn with dried seaweed and kelp, as if petrified; it gave off a smell of court-bouillon and... tires. Two hundred fathoms away, on an outpost, an army of cormorants stood at attention, unmoved among the frolicking seals.
At the reserve’s exit, the guard spoke French; Patrick Mwanba had arrived from Congo three years earlier to study, but the cost of living here forced him to drop out. He’d like to return home because life is cheaper there, but the war made him hesitate.
Ding ding dong! Vroom! Arf arf, Woof! Buzz! (A night from hell!)
I’d long planned to visit Calvinia, the center of a region known for extensive sheep farming. An excellent provincial museum, run by an enthusiastic curator, kept us too late to start the drive north.
So we camped in a tiny, charming campsite set up in the garden of a house. A few trees, a patch of resilient grass, and a view of a pretty lit-up steeple—what else?
Well, it turned out to be a sound-and-light show, with the pretty steeple chiming the hours and half-hours. Then suddenly, we were in the VIP stands of the Karoo-Kalahari Truck Race: roaring trucks paraded under our canvas windows, and we realized we were on the main road through town. To top it off, we enjoyed an uninterrupted canine cacophony, from the *arf arf* of little dogs to the *woof* of a mastiff. Oh, and some mosquitoes—the first ones—insisted on keeping us company in the tent, and we hadn’t yet bought the arsenal to neutralize them.
I walked through Calvinia at night; the house gardens weren’t fenced, nor did they have the «Armed Response» signs so common in the country.
The Kalahari Trails
(No, no, I haven’t converted to hiking.)
North of Calvinia, in the south of the Northern Cape, small towns follow one another up to Upington, about a hundred kilometers apart—welcome havens. Between them, with no trees in sight, we stopped in the shade of a motionless cloud: the temperature exceeded 40°C in mid-January.
We were almost out of the High Karoo and into a region of pans drying up, until the first red dunes appeared, precursors of the Kalahari. In the sparse veld vegetation, gatherings of quiver trees in the kopjes, and a caravan of camels without a handler or packs, marching in perfect formation across a pan (no, I hadn’t overdone the Windhoek at the last stop, and no, I wasn’t dehydrated enough to hallucinate).
The historic part of these towns, European in style, was built on the same plans as those in the American Midwest or the Australian Outback: a grid of streets wide enough to turn a wagon pulled by eight pairs of oxen. The architecture was Dutch-inspired, tropicalized with awnings.
Then came more recent housing, functional in style, where the wealthier mixed-race people—who make up the majority of this state—lived, and further on, the township, an assemblage of corrugated iron and plastic, like everywhere else.
Orange, Right Bank
North of Augrabies Falls National Park, on the other side of the Orange River, stretches a rugged and wild territory the size of fifty Groix islands, crisscrossed by a few tracks—the Riemvasmaak.
The inhabitants were driven out half a century ago for a military base, and as soon as President Mandela was elected, he made it a symbol by allowing the exiled populations to return. Several ethnic groups live here on almost nothing, in government-built shacks.
A community camp is set up in a small cirque at the end of a canyon that, while not in the history books, offers a good descent. By mid-afternoon, the air was at 44°C, but luckily there was a spring... except it was a hot spring, with water at 38°C. And they haven’t invented a reversible spring yet. Once the birds and baboons had settled in, in absolute silence and far from any light pollution, we enjoyed the stars like nowhere else (well, that’s what they claim in the region).
The Orange didn’t choose the easy path: arriving from Lesotho, it was almost at the ocean. The terrain to the south and north of this massif seemed easier to cross. Was it to avoid the curse of the Okavango, whose waters disappear into the sands without ever seeing the sea, that it chose this rocky route, thinking that at least the granite wouldn’t steal its water?
I Love You, I Eat You
In the dry bed of the Auob, it lay panting, head raised, alert, between its paws but head-to-tail, a tawny springbok, motionless.
A few minutes earlier, their story had been written in a lightning-fast chase, captured in photos by the driver of the car that alerted us.
It would be a long time before it started eating at the groin without breaking its surveillance.
Earlier, there was a lion lounging in the shade and hundreds of antelopes: springboks and gemsboks (oryx) in herds, hartebeests and steenboks alone. Strange pairs, apart several times, formed by a springbok and a gemsbok.
A few solitary jackals moved slightly sideways, looking furtive. Ostriches, alone, looking a bit dazed.
It was a lucky morning in the Kgalagadi (KTP).
In and Out
Kgalagadi, Nossob Camp.
We were at the very end of the almost-empty camp, ten meters from the fence, whose structure wouldn’t resist an elephant (though there aren’t any here), but it was electrified.
At dusk, on the other side, ten meters away, three lions passed in a row, as if on parade, seemingly focused on their goal and indifferent to the camp, though they glanced at it.
A jackal had gotten into the camp and was trying to get out without success while scavenging. I offered it two pieces of snoek biltong (Don’t feed the animals!) from three meters away—it smelled strong and had bones (bones in biltong!). When it passed by again, it sniffed but didn’t dare approach. Curled up in the chair, motionless, by the faint moonlight, I finally saw it come closer, grab the nearest piece, and move ten meters away to enjoy it (how many jackals know the finer points of sea biltong?). A little reassured, it came back for the second piece.
Another Morning
By morning, the jackal was gone, but our luck hadn’t left us. Two cheetahs again, who found me in the way and slowly moved toward a calmer shadow. Enough birds of prey to form a squadron, but they’re solitary hunters. Two ostriches busy with their dozen unruly chicks. And while we’re at it, a group of four Kalahari lions, sprawled under a thorny bush. Lots of oryx crossing the dunes and herds of red hartebeest. Kori bustards and secretary birds.
It was the first time the Kgalagadi had spoiled us so much.
Back in South Africa
January 12, 2013, 5:30 AM, Flight BA043 London-Cape Town
Directly below, Windhoek glittered like a tangle of fairy lights still lit and tossed into a box.
The horizon, edged in purple, was setting up a backup fireworks display, and suddenly, like a cherry on the platter and with unbearable intensity, in less than two minutes the entire sun revealed a gray dam and then a vast, untouched massif.
A few more minutes and the glare to the east of the plane was total. In Africa, the sun is swift.
We still had a France to cross before landing, but it felt as if we were already there. To the west, the raking light revealed what looked like acne and long, swollen scars in a desert region that might be the Swartkloofberg. Further still, straight as far as the eye could see, the two parallel tracks of a dirt road.
At 11,500 meters altitude and 940 km/h, we had a sense of stillness until the Orange River appeared, an incongruous serpent, gray edged with green.
The first South African settlements were dotted with trees providing shade, then rivers highlighted by continuous lines of vegetation.
Water and shade that make life possible.
We’ll return here by the backroads.
Half an hour from Cape Town, the plane tilted toward the sea, crossing plantations (likely citrus) and then an explosion of cultivated greenery in circles on either side of an unruly river. Finally, the coastline was no longer just sand and water—a frothy hem, a suture?
A peninsula came into view, forming two magnificent bays, and... a flight attendant firmly instructed me to return to my seat: we’d arrived!
The Colors of Cape Town
The city was dressed up as I like them—deserted, fluid, free of its vendors.
In the parking lot of the endless beach next to the commercial port north of the city, about two hundred people were unloading their goods in front of their pickups or combis, none of which were from this century: mixed-race, ageless Black people, and white folks who looked like they’d stepped out of another era.
After a few minutes, intrigued, I played a game: first looking at the merchandise, then imagining who was selling it, and finally looking at who was actually manning the stall. Tall Black vendors were selling what they often sell in Europe—leather, sunglasses, watches; mixed-race folks offered discount bundles, and the tanned older white people seemed to have emptied their attics.
We left with an antique tin kettle for morning tea over an open fire, a pack of five exercise books (that’s 600 pages to fill), Bill Bryson’s earliest stories in English, some snoek rillettes (a local fish), and—never seen before—tuna biltong and snoek biltong.
In so-called advanced countries, Sunday is for sports: white cyclists dressed like pros sweating diligently, Black street vendors running in loops at red lights to sell trash bags that day; white golfers losing their balls, which a scantily clad Black man retrieves from the water; under the sails of kite surf boards, it’s all blondes, and in the foam, joyful splashes from a bunch of Black kids.
Searching for an unusual spot for lunch, we drove through the fishing port looking for a dive and, at the end of a dead-end road with no warning, we arrived at the Shimmy Beach Club—quite the program.
The place, open for just three weeks, aims to be ultra-trendy. You could be in San Francisco, Lisbon’s docks, or St. Barth. This time, the "visible" staff was diverse, but the clientele was exclusively white, except for one mixed-race couple.
For this Sunday lunch, the women had pulled out all the stops, and local starlets—who’d make ours look tame—were turning the terrace into a frenzy.
At Cape Town’s port, the girls have *port*. The trend seems to be crochet dresses over swimsuits.
For two hours, a team of employees watered and raked the sand, starting over when they finished. A child in a floaty pink dress and a gold headband, but a future adventurer, stepped onto the freshly raked artificial beach sand for the first time.
A lanky mixed-race man dragged a hose across the ground, followed by a white woman—enchanted?—who then started watering the sand herself, carelessly splashing the glass terrace her colleague had just swept. I suspect a tacit work arrangement to keep everyone employed.
A galleon packed with tourists (are there any in the hold? Does it take tourists to Robben Island?) left the port. A helicopter took off in its wake. Trawlers returned, cutting through a ballet of catamarans, their waterlines well above the water: a bad catch.
If there’s one country where you can’t pretend to ignore skin color, it’s this one. The question is in everyone’s mind, and here more than anywhere else, it’s a decisive economic and political factor.
Columbine of Brittany
200 km north of Cape Town and 9,000 km south of the Breton coast, but on the same cold ocean, we camped on the shore of the Columbine Cape Nature Reserve, sheltered by a rocky chaos that, at first light tomorrow, would transport us to Perros-Guirec.
Our first encounter with wild animals wouldn’t end well for them: it was crayfish season, and they were the size of lobsters at Lorient’s fish market. Bought for R60 (5.5 €) a pair from kids in Pater Noster, they’d end up between two rocks, over a fire. But first, we had to pair the Chenin blanc with some snoek biltong.
With no wood, I lit a fire at dawn with dried seaweed and kelp, as if petrified; it gave off a smell of court-bouillon and... tires. Two hundred fathoms away, on an outpost, an army of cormorants stood at attention, unmoved among the frolicking seals.
At the reserve’s exit, the guard spoke French; Patrick Mwanba had arrived from Congo three years earlier to study, but the cost of living here forced him to drop out. He’d like to return home because life is cheaper there, but the war made him hesitate.
Ding ding dong! Vroom! Arf arf, Woof! Buzz! (A night from hell!)
I’d long planned to visit Calvinia, the center of a region known for extensive sheep farming. An excellent provincial museum, run by an enthusiastic curator, kept us too late to start the drive north.
So we camped in a tiny, charming campsite set up in the garden of a house. A few trees, a patch of resilient grass, and a view of a pretty lit-up steeple—what else?
Well, it turned out to be a sound-and-light show, with the pretty steeple chiming the hours and half-hours. Then suddenly, we were in the VIP stands of the Karoo-Kalahari Truck Race: roaring trucks paraded under our canvas windows, and we realized we were on the main road through town. To top it off, we enjoyed an uninterrupted canine cacophony, from the *arf arf* of little dogs to the *woof* of a mastiff. Oh, and some mosquitoes—the first ones—insisted on keeping us company in the tent, and we hadn’t yet bought the arsenal to neutralize them.
I walked through Calvinia at night; the house gardens weren’t fenced, nor did they have the «Armed Response» signs so common in the country.
The Kalahari Trails
(No, no, I haven’t converted to hiking.)
North of Calvinia, in the south of the Northern Cape, small towns follow one another up to Upington, about a hundred kilometers apart—welcome havens. Between them, with no trees in sight, we stopped in the shade of a motionless cloud: the temperature exceeded 40°C in mid-January.
We were almost out of the High Karoo and into a region of pans drying up, until the first red dunes appeared, precursors of the Kalahari. In the sparse veld vegetation, gatherings of quiver trees in the kopjes, and a caravan of camels without a handler or packs, marching in perfect formation across a pan (no, I hadn’t overdone the Windhoek at the last stop, and no, I wasn’t dehydrated enough to hallucinate).
The historic part of these towns, European in style, was built on the same plans as those in the American Midwest or the Australian Outback: a grid of streets wide enough to turn a wagon pulled by eight pairs of oxen. The architecture was Dutch-inspired, tropicalized with awnings.
Then came more recent housing, functional in style, where the wealthier mixed-race people—who make up the majority of this state—lived, and further on, the township, an assemblage of corrugated iron and plastic, like everywhere else.
Orange, Right Bank
North of Augrabies Falls National Park, on the other side of the Orange River, stretches a rugged and wild territory the size of fifty Groix islands, crisscrossed by a few tracks—the Riemvasmaak.
The inhabitants were driven out half a century ago for a military base, and as soon as President Mandela was elected, he made it a symbol by allowing the exiled populations to return. Several ethnic groups live here on almost nothing, in government-built shacks.
A community camp is set up in a small cirque at the end of a canyon that, while not in the history books, offers a good descent. By mid-afternoon, the air was at 44°C, but luckily there was a spring... except it was a hot spring, with water at 38°C. And they haven’t invented a reversible spring yet. Once the birds and baboons had settled in, in absolute silence and far from any light pollution, we enjoyed the stars like nowhere else (well, that’s what they claim in the region).
The Orange didn’t choose the easy path: arriving from Lesotho, it was almost at the ocean. The terrain to the south and north of this massif seemed easier to cross. Was it to avoid the curse of the Okavango, whose waters disappear into the sands without ever seeing the sea, that it chose this rocky route, thinking that at least the granite wouldn’t steal its water?
I Love You, I Eat You
In the dry bed of the Auob, it lay panting, head raised, alert, between its paws but head-to-tail, a tawny springbok, motionless.
A few minutes earlier, their story had been written in a lightning-fast chase, captured in photos by the driver of the car that alerted us.
It would be a long time before it started eating at the groin without breaking its surveillance.
Earlier, there was a lion lounging in the shade and hundreds of antelopes: springboks and gemsboks (oryx) in herds, hartebeests and steenboks alone. Strange pairs, apart several times, formed by a springbok and a gemsbok.
A few solitary jackals moved slightly sideways, looking furtive. Ostriches, alone, looking a bit dazed.
It was a lucky morning in the Kgalagadi (KTP).
In and Out
Kgalagadi, Nossob Camp.
We were at the very end of the almost-empty camp, ten meters from the fence, whose structure wouldn’t resist an elephant (though there aren’t any here), but it was electrified.
At dusk, on the other side, ten meters away, three lions passed in a row, as if on parade, seemingly focused on their goal and indifferent to the camp, though they glanced at it.
A jackal had gotten into the camp and was trying to get out without success while scavenging. I offered it two pieces of snoek biltong (Don’t feed the animals!) from three meters away—it smelled strong and had bones (bones in biltong!). When it passed by again, it sniffed but didn’t dare approach. Curled up in the chair, motionless, by the faint moonlight, I finally saw it come closer, grab the nearest piece, and move ten meters away to enjoy it (how many jackals know the finer points of sea biltong?). A little reassured, it came back for the second piece.
Another Morning
By morning, the jackal was gone, but our luck hadn’t left us. Two cheetahs again, who found me in the way and slowly moved toward a calmer shadow. Enough birds of prey to form a squadron, but they’re solitary hunters. Two ostriches busy with their dozen unruly chicks. And while we’re at it, a group of four Kalahari lions, sprawled under a thorny bush. Lots of oryx crossing the dunes and herds of red hartebeest. Kori bustards and secretary birds.
It was the first time the Kgalagadi had spoiled us so much.
Hi,
We arrive in Johannesburg (Tambo) at 8:30 in the morning. Do you think we’ll have enough time to catch the 10:30 flight to Hoedspruit, or is it better to play it safe and take the next one at 11:40? The earlier flight would work better for us, but what if the plane is delayed 😕? Plus, we have to collect checked baggage!
Thanks for your feedback and experiences!
Danyèle
Hi everyone,
I just found this map online that gives me several options for reaching Blyde via the Phalaborwa gate!! The shortest one seems to go through the south rather than the north—what do you think of these 3 alternatives, and has anyone here taken them? Feedback please, thanks for your input! Dan
I just found this map online that gives me several options for reaching Blyde via the Phalaborwa gate!! The shortest one seems to go through the south rather than the north—what do you think of these 3 alternatives, and has anyone here taken them? Feedback please, thanks for your input! Dan
Hi everyone,
Before entering Kruger Park, we’re planning a stop in Graskop on the way from Johannesburg, then spending two nights at Hippomoon Lodge.
I’ve mapped out the following route for a single day between Graskop and Hippomoon Lodge, but I’m wondering if it’s a bit too packed?😐
Visit the Blyde River Canyon in a full day – approx. 180 km / 2h40 drive, leaving Graskop at 8:30 AM:
- Graskop Gorge Lift on the R533 towards Hazyview
- The Pinnacle Rock
- Lisbon / God’s Window / Berlin Falls
- Lunch at The Chubby Pig
- Treur River
- Bourkes Luck, Farm, Moramelo, Uitspanning (33 km from Graskop Gorge Lift)
- Bourke’s Luck Potholes
- Three Rondavels viewpoint
- ???Hike starting from Blyde Canyon: A Forever Resort / the guinea fowl trail / Lower viewpoint
- Entry to Swadini for a Boat Cruise on the Blyde River (boat excursion in the Blyde Canyon)
- Blyde Dam boat cruise
- Drive to Hippomoon Lodge to arrive around 5:00 PM
Thanks in advance for your feedback and experiences!😎
hi, I’m planning to rent a satellite phone starting from Johannesburg for our three-week trip through South Africa and Mozambique. I’ve found two rental companies and was wondering if anyone has used them in South Africa for this kind of service?
They’re SAT 4 RENT and RENT A SAT. RENT A SAT is the cheaper option but only includes 10 minutes of satellite communication—after that, it’s $1.99 USD per additional minute.
Thanks for any feedback you can share!
They’re SAT 4 RENT and RENT A SAT. RENT A SAT is the cheaper option but only includes 10 minutes of satellite communication—after that, it’s $1.99 USD per additional minute.
Thanks for any feedback you can share!
