05 Mar Plains Camp, Home of Rhino Walking Safaris
What makes Plains Camp so special is, it’s one of few places in the Kruger National Park where guests can explore “off-road” on walking safaris.
Even with iffy weather, as we begin our first walk, the beauty of the bush this time of year is luminous. Dewdrops sparkle in the bright green grass, branches hang heavy and cheery, bright pockets of foxglove and morning glory greet us in the newly formed grass.
As we walk single file behind our guides, Andrew and Amos, my mind drifts off, following the steady rhythm of footsteps, the distant calls of birds, and the sound of the wind.
I do my best thinking in the bush.
On foot, you begin to appreciate the beauty of the Kruger, and in turn, the beauty of the continent, as each step brings more and more to appreciate.
Every flower, every tree, every insect has a unique role to play in this incredible ecosystem.
We pause beside a Silver Cluster-leaf Andrew tells us how a wasp stings the tree, causing the tree to send nutrients to the newly formed “gall” where it lays its larvae. He passes around one of the old galls. At the base, near the stem, there’s a small hole where the new wasp cut its way out.
Everything new I learn takes my breath away. The detail is incredible; it’s no wonder the Bushmen told stories and shared knowledge around the campfire. There is so much to learn, and as a guest of this incredible place, the beauty of it will astonish you.
Watching Amos, our guide from Mozambique who has been working in the Kruger for decades, I get a sense of the limitless knowledge behind his eyes. He seems to look not just at the bush but into it, drawing on a kind of knowledge it would take a lifetime to obtain.
There’s beautiful logic in the way Amos tracks a white rhino, first noticing tracks and dung in the sand of damp riverbeds, then following only the signs of gnawed grass. It’s incredible to witness this depth of knowledge played out, truly awe-inspiring.
When I watch Amos track the white rhino, I try to follow the line of his eyes, to get an inkling of what he sees, but I have a feeling that he’s seeing in an entirely different language, one written by the bush, which only he understands.
Bush knowledge is like a termite mound. What you see on the surface is just a small part of what’s happening beneath.
As we near the white rhino, my pace quickens. We can’t see it yet, but we know from Amos’ movements that it must be close.
Soon, we see it, standing in the distance behind a row of bushes. It seems to look at us, but is likely just picking up our scent.
The excitement in this moment is indescribable. It almost feels like magic, the way Amos brought a white rhino out of the bush, seemingly from nothing but a few tracks and some gnawed grass.
For a few breathless moments, we appreciate its beauty, its grace despite its bulk, and the cumulative years of Amos’ experience which allowed us to see a wild rhino in Kruger for the first time. What a gift!
Every bush walk at Plains Camp is like that. Providing a new offering, a new sense of admiration, and new insight.
As we walk through a gorge, in a dry riverbed, Amos pauses. Andrew motions us to stop.
In a fleeting instant, we see it too. A caracal walks softly on the top of the ridge. It’s brief but distinct. We can clearly make out the black markings around its eyes and the black tufts of fur on the point of each of its ears.
We rush as stealthily as possible to the top of the gorge, but it’s steep, and by the time we reach the ridge, the caracal is disappearing in the distance.
There isn’t enough time to capture it with my camera, but the moment is clearly seared into my memory.
Part of the beauty of Plains Camp is that there’s no cell signal, no Wi-Fi, and no possibility of checking Facebook or emails. You’re “forced” to listen to the nature around you. Time stands still. It’s surreal, waking in the morning with only the music of birds and wind surrounding you. You feel like you’ve stepped back in time 100 years, to a time of letter writing and exploring on foot.
In the camp, go-away-birds make muffled noises overhead; they’re nesting here, and their young sound like pups whimpering. It strikes me that I’ve never heard them make a “pleasant” noise before. I’d only ever heard their alarm call, not the muffled whimpering of their young, and I left with a new appreciation for them.
