While we were at Amakhosi it rained every day, on every drive. One day we returned so soaked, in spite of the rain ponchos and blankets provided in the safari vehicle, my boots took three days to dry out. And, yet the game viewing rewards were such that all the guests, children included, went out drive after drive in the cold and rain.
Our stay at the mysteriously named Ghost Mountain Inn was sorrowfully affected by the weather. It rained more or less constantly during our entire two-night stay. That didn’t seem to dampen the staff’s spirits much. Thanks to their cheerful and can-do attitude we went forward with sightseeing plans and had a pleasant stay.
Haina Kalahari Lodge gave me an immediate sense of home, a delightful but puzzling first impression from a place tucked in a remote conservancy at the northern edge of the Central Kalahari Game Reserve (a 20,386 square mile, 52,800 square kilometer, semi-arid immensity roughly the size of Switzerland; and the second largest game reserve in the world after Tanzania’s Selous). The reason became obvious once I found out that this oasis of laid-back luxury in the heart of some of the harshest wilderness in Southern Africa was originally intended, and functioned for a decade, as a private multi-family holiday retreat before it began to welcome guests in 2007.
A cluster of immaculate South African stone and thatch rondavels nestled in lush indigenous gardens, Idwala Guest House was an enclave of bucolic luxury in the middle of Johannesburg. Located on a quiet residential street of the elegant suburb of Darrenwood, an easy 30-minute drive from O.R. Tambo International Airport, Idwala (Zulu for rock) was an ideal retreat for a day of relaxation after my nightlong flight from Europe and before continuing on my journey further into Southern Africa.
We arrived at Isandlwana, named for nearby Mount Isandlwana, after a morning drive through the green and rocky hills of KwaZulu Natal, an area of South Africa known for its natural beauty and battle scars. The first thing that struck me on arrival at the lodge was the discreet way it was constructed on the side of a hill. Not surprisingly one of our favorite features at this small lodge was the view of the neighboring Zulu village and surrounding countryside from the common areas and our rooms.
The single propeller plane had been droning for almost one hour over some of the flattest, emptiest land I had ever seen. Swirls of gleaming salt pans and dusty sand banks stretched to infinity, baked by a merciless sun. The pilot nodded to the right. “Jack’s Camp,” he informed me, dipping the wing to give me a better look. Beneath me a palm and acacia-studded oasis was emerging from the stark Kalahari wilderness. Large green safari tents were scattered among high savannah grass, hinting of creature comforts. Could this be a mirage?
