LET’S TAKE A WALK!

We have been to just about every part of Kaingo. Far East, Buurmanskloof, where the ghosts of yesteryear dwell. We have been on the river and seen the Sable antelope from all angles. We have rock-and-rolled over boulders and floated over sandy roads.

Peter and Anna in the kitchen have tried their utmost to add just a little bit on the waistline, the Waiting staff were not found wanting to produce just one more beer or G&T…

Before every single New Year’s resolution is declared null and void, it is time for a walk!

We are blessed to have a wonderful area on Kaingo that we call the Botanical Gardens. This botanical gem is kept safe from elephant impact by an electrified fence that keeps them at bay yet allowsthe kudu, impala, wildebeest and other general game species to roam free.

“Predators”? I hear you say. Ja, there are a few around; but who’s afraid of a leopard?

The best time for a walk is just as the sun peeks over the horizon. The freshness of the new day is rather intoxicating. Endorphins, dopamine…feel good hormones of every colour and creed courses through your veins. You must physically restrain yourself not to burst out into song-competing with the morning chorus of the bushveld birds- possibly saving a bit of face as well (in my own defence, I have never been any good at singing…)

As we descend into the valley lined with age-old trees, the smell of earth and decaying leafy matter reach your nose. A millipede; sleek, black, tree hundred legs working in unison, disappears into a hollow under a stone. You avoid stepping on that stone. A Sandpaper raisin whips back at your legs. A tingling sensation is left on your exposed skin.

“Smell this”. A handful of crushed bi-coloured leaves makes its way from nose to nose. Faintly lavenderish, a spot of eucalyptus, dash of sweetness.

“Lavender fever berry”.

We look, touch, feel, smell. Velvet bushwillow. African violet, Wild basil, Tamboti.

A timid bushbuck makes a break for it. All we noticed was a rustle. The brown phantom makes us doubt our own eyes.

We crunch through the litter of sticks in a subforest of Weeping Boer-bean trees. One day, when we are old, these will reach the canopy. For now, they reach for the sun with all their might, limbs twisted to make the most of the dappled light.

All too soon the valley comes to an end. The forest gives way to Waterberg bushveld. Wild gardenia, Sickle bush, Red Bushwillow, Sour Plum.

“You bit off the end like this…” the red fruit is decapitated by a quick bite…” then you pop the fruit into your mouth, like this” …the orangey red pulp disappears into a waiting mouth.

There is silence. One by one the sour taste overwhelms the eaters. Like a plum and lemon…a a few times worse. The faces; priceless!

A few minutes later we are met by a smiling face. Coffee and tea are served.

We have been on foot for almost three hours- the bush made it feel like thirty minutes…

The silence is disturbed by the chuckle of the game viewer’s diesel engine. On the way back to base, everyone is strangely quiet.

A quick glance behind me confirms my suspicions.

They are not quiet, they are content.

BUSHVELD GREETINGS