November 24, 2021

 

Punda Maria Camp Restaurant, 0730

 

Good morning from Punda Maria. It’s a gray, gloomy morning with blustering cool to cold winds. Exchanging pleasantries with the staff. Always we talk weather here. They’re happy that it’s not hot.

 

Yesterday morning, the Cloudiness Specialist I went on break and without her constant supervision the sun broke through the clouds, and we had a mostly sunny day. Checked out of Shingwedzi and again took a long drive north on the S56, wasting my time pointing the lens at birds who’d vanished. Saw only a couple of elephants and frightened a young girl as I scooted by. So hate that. Otherwise, uneventful. No cats. No dogs. A few sullen buffalo, who rattle their horns against bushes to make a point and then move off into thick bush. They’d kill you without a second thought because you’re annoying and smell bad.

 

Punda Maria is a small camp in the far north of the Park. This is one of the best birding areas in Africa and, because cats and rhino are scarce here, almost no one but bird watchers stay here. Now, there are plenty of impala around, including large creches of 30 or more lambs, darting here and there like schools of fish, and there’s cover and there’s water so I promise there are leopards.  But they choose to remain hidden.

 

Took a drive yesterday afternoon. Impala lamb cuteness, impossible birds. Saw some tsessebe - large, handsome antelopes not often seen. Heading back toward camp, the sky divided into two - a sunny, clear side and, to the south and west, dark boiling clouds resting atop slate gray walls of rain. In an instant the sun switched off as the fast-moving clouds intersected the sun’s trajectory and the temperature dropped 15 degrees. Then I was hit by a wall of wind, blowing debris and grasshoppers into the open windows of the vehicle. I was laughing at myself because I’d been racing back to the camp to keep an 1815 reservation for dinner (it’s a very small restaurant) and the table I reserved was outside, so I was racing the approaching storm so that I can be on time to sit out in the rain for dinner.

 

But the wind subsided and then calmed and somehow the storm missed us completely and I had a lovely dinner, chatting with the birders staying in the bungalow next door. I don’t have the discipline to be a serious birder - keeping a life list and planning vacations around which birds to add to that list - but I so appreciate the passion and, in this case, the understanding of how everything in the bush is connected to everything else. And how termites are at the center of the universe.

 

Dreamed heavily last night, and not pleasant dreams. A while back, I asked a friend who is retired if she missed working. She said that she still isn’t used to retirement. And that she dreams of work. Most of my dreams this trip, fueled by anti-malarial drugs, have been about work settings, but last night was the first time that dreams were disturbing. And that segued into thoughts of my daughter and the pain that comes as your children grow up and grow away. We brought our daughter to this camp when she was 12. She was excited to swim in the camp swimming pool when she was still young enough that swimming pools was part of the excitement of travel. I’m so proud of her but ache every day for the closeness of those times. It’s part of the circle of life.  Like the ranger, flirting with the receptionist here… Also, part of the circle of life.

 

I am happy to report that I’ve seen vervets here. I saw zero vervets in Olifants, Letaba, Mopani or Shingwedzi camps, and began to fear for them. Perhaps they’d simply given up on people after the abandonment of camps during various lockdowns. Or perhaps something more sinister had happened. But they’re here this morning, roving around camp like a gang of street toughs the size of house cats. Looking for something to steal or trouble to make. How can you not love the little bastards?

 

Today I’m changing things up. I’ve driven between 6 and 9 hours a day, every day since I’ve arrived in the Park. I’m taking today off. Slow breakfast. Copy cards. Planning to go on the group Sunset Drive here. Look for the pennant-winged nightjars that my birder neighbor told me about last night. Contemplate that tomorrow begins the return home. Make my way south to Letaba, Olifants and Orpen, and then to Eastgate Airport, OR Tambo, Atlanta, Tucson and home. Jesus, it’s a long way. My butt hurts thinking about it.

 

Maybe I’ll walk around camp with a camera, like a bird-nerd. Never forgetting of course that I’m secretly cooler than any of them because I saw Bo Diddley once and I’m pretty sure they never did.

 

Tomorrow maybe cats. Elephants for sure.