Re: Makuya Game Reserve
Posted: Sun Jan 13, 2013 8:52 pm
Thanks for all the kind comments and the feedback on this TT, I don't know why I am having such a tough time in getting around to continue, but I guess it"s that I have so many things going on at the same time at the moment. Anyway, I do appreciate the comments and certainly don't mean to turn this into an RP type TT, so here goes with the next and probably final episode.
Friday PM contd.
We were all pretty loath to leave the shade of the trees along the river except for a couple of crazy ones looking for fishing spots....
but we couldn't sit there for the rest of the day, so eventually got moving and washed and packed up the braai stuff and made a circuitous route through the bush, back to camp. We had decided that it would be a lot more sensible to spend the rest of the afternoon in the pool sipping on some cold ones than beating around the bush in that heat, which is exactly what we did. Cooler boxes lined up along the coping of the pool enabled us to stay in the water like hippos (a very accurate description considering the magnificent physiques of some of us)
As the sun was setting to end the African day, we ventured back to out tents to put on a clean pair of pants and some a shirt and met around the fire.
What a glorious evening, by this time most of us had gone off the beers and onto something a little less filling, so the nectar slid comfortably down cooled throats amidst conversations on the wild, business, fishing and whatever else needed to be solved in this world we live in. A gentle cooling breeze picked up from the south west and the heavens produced an unbelievable display of glittering opulence.
The menu tonight was a traditional poitjie of Gemsbock in a mellow red wine, served over a nutty flavoured bed of rice. Obviously there was no salads, but we did allow a few nasty vegetables to be placed in the pot and simmered to nothing. Dave, the chef for the night knows how to make the best poitjie I have ever tasted.
Fully satisfied, the conversation quietened down to just above a whisper so that any night sounds would interrupt and be fully enjoyed by all. A distant flicker of lightening over the southwest horizon got us speculating as to who the lucky ones were receiving some rain, wishing that some of it would head our way. Gradually the breeze picked up a bit more and we decided to park the Landy behind us to shelter our glasses from the odd blowing grain of sand.
The storm passed to the north west of us and we continued enjoying the kind of night that only Africa, in it's wild places, can conjure up. Peaceful, yet vibrant, still, yet knowing that the night was continually being stirred up by wild activity. Lightening flashes lit up the distant north sky, followed by the low rumble of far away thunder as the breeze dropped to a gentle leaf flicking movement of air. Most of us gradually slid down in our chairs, legs straightening towards the flames that flickered in the fire, comfort and peace.
A drop from the heavens brought on the wise cracks about overflying birds, one or two more drops and suddenly a crash full off the greatest power imaginable, the thunder instant. Another flash that back lit a boiling maelstrom of angry rolling clouds and the full anger of the storm was over us. We were reminded of a buffalo wounded in a hunt that had sneaked around to ambush his adversaries, his charge, short, instantaneous and supremely violent. The wind blasted from the north, blowing bucket fulls of sand and small branches, the air filled with sulphur and dust, smelling like a barrage of artillery Howitzers that had opened up on some distant target, the sound live in the thunder.
To a man, we grabbed our chair in one hand, our glasses in the other and surrendered the ground to the storm, making a B-line for the shelter of the kitchen, the only structure with solid walls. The wind gusts rattled windows and with a loud crack the roof to our tent separated and caught up in the surrounding bushes, support pipes bent and twisted like so much spaghetti. We quietly waited out the storm, conversation impossible.
As instantaneously as it began it was over and we emerged from our bunker to a night of fallen branches, leaves and twigs everywhere, damage inspection could wait for the morning.
Friday PM contd.
We were all pretty loath to leave the shade of the trees along the river except for a couple of crazy ones looking for fishing spots....
but we couldn't sit there for the rest of the day, so eventually got moving and washed and packed up the braai stuff and made a circuitous route through the bush, back to camp. We had decided that it would be a lot more sensible to spend the rest of the afternoon in the pool sipping on some cold ones than beating around the bush in that heat, which is exactly what we did. Cooler boxes lined up along the coping of the pool enabled us to stay in the water like hippos (a very accurate description considering the magnificent physiques of some of us)
As the sun was setting to end the African day, we ventured back to out tents to put on a clean pair of pants and some a shirt and met around the fire.
What a glorious evening, by this time most of us had gone off the beers and onto something a little less filling, so the nectar slid comfortably down cooled throats amidst conversations on the wild, business, fishing and whatever else needed to be solved in this world we live in. A gentle cooling breeze picked up from the south west and the heavens produced an unbelievable display of glittering opulence.
The menu tonight was a traditional poitjie of Gemsbock in a mellow red wine, served over a nutty flavoured bed of rice. Obviously there was no salads, but we did allow a few nasty vegetables to be placed in the pot and simmered to nothing. Dave, the chef for the night knows how to make the best poitjie I have ever tasted.
Fully satisfied, the conversation quietened down to just above a whisper so that any night sounds would interrupt and be fully enjoyed by all. A distant flicker of lightening over the southwest horizon got us speculating as to who the lucky ones were receiving some rain, wishing that some of it would head our way. Gradually the breeze picked up a bit more and we decided to park the Landy behind us to shelter our glasses from the odd blowing grain of sand.
The storm passed to the north west of us and we continued enjoying the kind of night that only Africa, in it's wild places, can conjure up. Peaceful, yet vibrant, still, yet knowing that the night was continually being stirred up by wild activity. Lightening flashes lit up the distant north sky, followed by the low rumble of far away thunder as the breeze dropped to a gentle leaf flicking movement of air. Most of us gradually slid down in our chairs, legs straightening towards the flames that flickered in the fire, comfort and peace.
A drop from the heavens brought on the wise cracks about overflying birds, one or two more drops and suddenly a crash full off the greatest power imaginable, the thunder instant. Another flash that back lit a boiling maelstrom of angry rolling clouds and the full anger of the storm was over us. We were reminded of a buffalo wounded in a hunt that had sneaked around to ambush his adversaries, his charge, short, instantaneous and supremely violent. The wind blasted from the north, blowing bucket fulls of sand and small branches, the air filled with sulphur and dust, smelling like a barrage of artillery Howitzers that had opened up on some distant target, the sound live in the thunder.
To a man, we grabbed our chair in one hand, our glasses in the other and surrendered the ground to the storm, making a B-line for the shelter of the kitchen, the only structure with solid walls. The wind gusts rattled windows and with a loud crack the roof to our tent separated and caught up in the surrounding bushes, support pipes bent and twisted like so much spaghetti. We quietly waited out the storm, conversation impossible.
As instantaneously as it began it was over and we emerged from our bunker to a night of fallen branches, leaves and twigs everywhere, damage inspection could wait for the morning.