The Court of Master Sommeliers (as it applies to South African Wines)

Posted on by Sandy

(a.k.a. Yes, I Actually Did That)

Before we dive into South Africa, a small (but actually not small) preface.

During COVID — when the rest of the planet was perfecting sourdough — I enrolled in the Certified Introductory level with the Court of Master Sommeliers (CMS).

They shipped me little bottles.

Dozens of them.

Tiny, carefully portioned vials of wines from around the world so we could taste blind at home, live on Zoom, while simultaneously being interrogated about soil types in Rioja and labeling laws in Germany.

It was not “wine appreciation.”

It was:

  • Every major wine-producing country
  • Their history
  • Their grape varietals
  • Their geology
  • Their wine laws
  • Their winemaking methodology
  • Plus beer, cider, spirits, sake, and all things Proper Serving related (because why not add more pressure?)

The Introductory (Level 1) exam has a pass rate often cited around 60% — but that’s among people who voluntarily sign up for this kind of structured wine nerd-dom. The real attrition happens later. Fewer than 300 people worldwide have ever passed the Master Sommelier Diploma exam.

So yes.

I passed Level 1.

And yes, I earned the lapel pin.

Which brings us to South Africa.

Why This Is Written (Instead of Delivered as a Speech)

I could stand up and present this.

I could gesture.

I could hold forth.

Some people derive visible joy from standing up and doing such things.

I, however, find that if someone is actually interested, they can absorb this far better in writing — at their own pace — perhaps with a glass in hand.

So.

Let’s get on with it.

South Africa: Vast Country, Concentrated Vineyards

South Africa is enormous.

It’s about a 16-hour drive between Cape Town and Johannesburg.

Yet nearly all viticulture is concentrated in the southwestern corner of the country, near Cape Town.

Why?

Because of major moderating influences:

  • The cold Atlantic Ocean (west)
  • The warm Indian Ocean (east)
  • And most critically: the Benguela Current, a cold current flowing north from Antarctica that cools the western coastline

Without that cooling current, much of the Western Cape would be too hot for quality wine.

History: Wine and Power

1652 – The Dutch Arrive

The Dutch East India Company establishes a refreshment station at the Cape for ships sailing to India.

Wine was not luxury.

It was morale. Medicine. Survival.

1655 – First Vines

The first vines were planted by enslaved people brought from other parts of Africa and Asia.

Slavery is foundational to the early South African wine industry.

Early plantings included:

  • Semillon
  • Chenin Blanc
  • Palomino

1685 – Constantia and Global Fame

Simon van der Stel (Stellenbosch = [van der] Stel’s Forest) planted vineyards in Constantia.

The sweet wine Vin de Constance became globally famous in the 1700s. It was:

  • Served in European courts
  • Referenced in literature
  • Requested by Napoleon during exile

For nearly a century, it was one of the most sought-after wines in the world.

1688 – The Huguenots

French Huguenots arrived, bringing advanced viticultural knowledge.

Dutch structure.

French technique.

African soil.

That is the foundation.

1800s – War and Phylloxera

The Anglo-Boer Wars destabilized agriculture.

Then phylloxera hit.

Exports collapsed.

1918 – KWV and the Cooperative Era

The KWV (Kooperatiewe Wijnbouwers Vereniging van Zuid-Afrika) was formed to stabilize prices after devastation.

They set minimum prices.

Farmers increased production.

Glut. Bankruptcy. Chaos.

So quotas were imposed.

But farmers had already planted high-yield grapes.

Workaround?

Distill them.

This is how South Africa became known for:

  • Brandy production
  • Fortified wines
  • Oxidative styles

Chenin Blanc (high yielding, relatively neutral) became dominant — especially for distillation.

1948 – Apartheid and Isolation

While the rest of the world was desegregating, South Africa institutionalized Apartheid.

Sanctions followed.

The country produced enormous quantities of wine, fortified wine, and brandy — but had limited legal export routes.

Even more damaging: during the 1970s–1990s, when the rest of the wine world embraced stainless steel, temperature control, clonal research, and modern viticulture science, South Africa was largely cut off.

1994 – Mandela and Modernization

Nelson Mandela becomes president.

Sanctions lifted.

Capital, technology, expertise, and international investment flow in.

Massive replanting begins.

In 1997, KWV becomes a private company.

Today, South Africa ranks among the top 10 wine-producing nations globally.

Terroir: Ancient Soil, Maritime Moderation

  • Soils up to 500 million years old
  • Nutrient-poor → vines struggle → lower yields → concentrated fruit
  • Maritime climate near coast
  • Hotter and drier inland
  • Elevation plays a major moderating role

The Cape Doctor

A powerful southeast wind.

It:

  1. Suppresses fungal disease
  2. Moderates vineyard temperatures
  3. Can damage flowering and reduce yields

Because fungal pressure is lower, South Africa adopted sustainable and organic practices earlier than many European regions.

The Grapes

Whites

  • Sauvignon Blanc
  • Chardonnay
  • Chenin Blanc (“Steen”)

South Africa produces more Chenin Blanc than the rest of the world combined.

If someone says “Chenin Blanc” and you automatically think Loire Valley…

Think again.

Reds

  • Cabernet Sauvignon
  • Syrah/Shiraz
  • Bordeaux blends
  • Pinot Noir
  • Pinotage

Pinotage

Pinotage = Pinot Noir × Cinsault (formerly called “Hermitage”).

Developed in the 1920s.

Early versions were rustic.

Modern versions are polished, dark-fruited, structured, and distinctly South African.

Méthode Cap Classique (MCC)

MCC = Méthode Cap Classique.

Traditional method sparkling wine (Champagne method).

Bright. High acid. Often extraordinary value.

Vine Virus & The Old Vine Movement

Isolation during Apartheid led to widespread vine virus (leaf roll in particular).

Post-1994, replanting surged.

Today, a remarkable “Old Vine Project” seeks out neglected old vineyards — incredibly low yield, exceptionally high quality.

Wine of Origin (W.O.) — The Hierarchy (With California Comparisons)

South Africa’s W.O. system (1973) guarantees origin.

It does not dictate grape varieties or stylistic rules — unlike many European appellations.

If a wine carries a W.O. seal:

  • 85%+ stated vintage
  • 85%+ stated varietal
  • 100% from the named origin

Now the hierarchy — smallest to largest — with California analogies.

1️⃣ Estate (Smallest)

All grapes must come from one contiguous property.

Wine must be grown and made there.

California comparison:

A true estate-grown Napa property.

No blending from outside sources to “fix” the vintage.

More terroir expression.

Less flexibility.

More vintage variation.

2️⃣ Ward

A small, terroir-defined subdivision within a district.

Defined by soil, elevation, geology, climate.

Example: a ward within Stellenbosch (which has 7)

California comparison:

Rutherford within Napa Valley.

More specific climate signature.

Blending flexibility to reach a desired tasting profile, but only within that ward.

3️⃣ District

Recognizable names:

  • Stellenbosch
  • Paarl
  • Swartland
  • Walker Bay

California comparison:

Napa Valley, Sonoma County, Paso Robles.

If it says “Stellenbosch Cabernet Sauvignon”:

  • 100% from Stellenbosch
  • 85% Cabernet Sauvignon

Producer can blend from multiple vineyards inside Stellenbosch.

4️⃣ Region

Grouping of districts.

Example: Coastal Region.

California comparison:

North Coast or even just “California”.

Greater blending flexibility.

More stylistic consistency year to year. This is why if you can love a “California wine,” the vintner will be able to make that same tasting profile year after year – because they have all of California to source “a little bit of this, a little bit of that.”

5️⃣ Geographical Unit (Largest)

Example: Western Cape.

Broad origin. Maximum blending flexibility.

Concentric Circles

Estate → Ward → District → Region → Geographical Unit

Moving outward:

  • Specificity decreases
  • Blending flexibility increases
  • Consistency becomes easier

Moving inward:

  • Terroir expression increases
  • Vintage variation increases
  • Winemaker flexibility decreases

Unlike France’s AOC system, South Africa’s W.O. does not regulate yield limits, aging rules, or grape approvals.

It is truth-in-labeling of origin.

Very New World in spirit.

Key Regions

Stellenbosch

Historic capital of South African wine.

Produces:

  • Cabernet Sauvignon
  • Bordeaux blends
  • Pinotage
  • Chenin

Structured, age-worthy wines.

Swartland

Former bulk wine area.

Now revolutionary.

  • Dry farming
  • Old vines
  • Chenin, Syrah, Grenache
  • Revival of Palomino, Cinsault, Semillon

Yield ↓

Character ↑↑

Walker Bay / Elgin / Cape Agulhas

Cool-climate zone.

Chardonnay.

Pinot Noir.

Sauvignon Blanc.

Fresh. Precise. Ocean-influenced.

Constantia

Birthplace of South African wine.

Historic sweet wines; now also fine dry whites.

SOUTH AFRICA QUIZ

  1. What is Steen?
  2. How is Pinotage made?
  3. What cools coastal vineyards?
  4. Which is a South African district: Mendoza, Maipo, Salta, Stellenbosch?
  5. Order the W.O. levels smallest → largest.
  6. Three effects of the Cape Doctor?
  7. What is KWV?

Answers

  1. Chenin Blanc
  2. Pinot Noir × Cinsault
  3. The Benguela Current
  4. Stellenbosch
  5. Estate → Ward → District → Region → Geographical Unit
  6. Suppresses fungus, moderates temps, can damage flowering
  7. A cooperative founded in 1918 to stabilize grape prices; privatized in 1997

There you have it.

A not-at-all-small overview of the South African wine industry — history, politics, geology, reinvention.

I would rather write this properly once than make you endure it and zone out.

But if you would like to discuss Chenin over MCC?

I’m available. 🍷 However, I’m sure Abe has forgotten more about South African wines than I ever will know. If you’re curious to see my “wine recording book” (complete with a laminated tasting “cheat sheet”) please just ask.

Day 12: Kruger, 600 Photos, and the Biological Marvels of Everything

Posted on by Sandy

Kruger is why I’m behind.

Yesterday (Day 1 here), I was up until nearly 10 p.m. editing photos — and we had to be “at the gate to Kruger” at 5:00 this morning. Guides get priority entry into the park for the first half hour. Yesterday we did not. Today we did. Worth the 45 minutes less sleep.

Yesterday, over 300 photos didn’t make the cut.

And there were still nearly 300 left.

We’ve done the morning round thus far today, and it’s been a bit “quiet.” Which, in Kruger terms, still means astonishing.

Abe told us we were to be “helper guides.” The actual guides use WhatsApp groups and radios to alert one another to sightings. Some guides share generously. Some hoard. Abe noted — diplomatically but clearly — that the hoarding behavior unfortunately skews toward certain white guides. The ecosystem is complicated in more ways than one.

We were tasked with spotting whatever we could. Even if it was just an ALT or a BLT — an Animal-Like Thing or a Bird-Like Thing (a.k.a. stump, rock, bush).

So here is what our collective eagle eyes turned up.

The “road runner birds” are actually spur fowl — cousins to the kamikaze picnic birds we saw in Entabeni.

The sausage tree is apparently a fine place to sleep — no snakes. However, the sausages themselves are heavy, woody, and could absolutely knock you unconscious if one fell. So perhaps not that fine.

Tracey spotted a kudu deep in the bush. The name “kudu” is said to mimic the sound they make when bounding away. The spiraled kudu horn produces an extraordinary resonant sound and was historically used for communication — we dubbed it the “African shofar.”

All wildebeest (gnu) calves are born in December. So much so that in the local language, December is referred to as “wildebeest birth time.” Nature runs on schedule here.

We saw a red (something) tree with long bean-like pods hanging from it. If you burn the pods, you can brew a kind of bush coffee from the ashes.

We had a black mamba cross the road — too fast for a photo, which is precisely the problem with black mambas. They are among the most venomous snakes in Africa and extraordinarily quick. (And yes — venomous, not poisonous. Venom enters the bloodstream through a bite; poison harms when ingested or absorbed. Think curare from the slime on poisonous frogs, used on poison darts. We were corrected, properly.)

We glimpsed a hyena — mostly brown blur through brush — but it counts.

We have seen many a weaver bird nest. The male builds it. He then brings a female to inspect it. If she disapproves, she tears it apart. He may try again — if she hasn’t found a better nest carpenter first. Evolution has no patience for mediocre craftsmanship.

We photographed a terrapin crossing the road. It immediately made me think of “Terrapin Station,” the Grateful Dead album — and Phil Lesh’s now-closed venue back home. I don’t know if the turtle had any jam-band aspirations, but it had excellent presence.

We learned that giraffes have an extraordinary blood pressure regulation system. When they lower their heads to drink, specialized valves and tight skin around the neck vessels help control the rush of blood so they don’t faint. When they lift their heads again, they shake slightly as circulation stabilizes. If humans had to drink like that, we’d be horizontal most of the time.

We saw so many birds.

The European roller — iridescent blues and flashes of gold — is a cousin to the lilac-breasted roller (Lynn’s favorite from her previous trip). The kingfisher we saw had a red head and brilliant blue wings. I will have a slideshow of All Things Kruger on the last day. It takes too long to upload . . .

We spotted painted dogs — African wild dogs — which is incredibly rare. Not only that, we saw a mating pair. In a pack, only the alpha male and alpha female breed. The others help hunt and raise the pups. It is a tightly structured society with one ruling couple at a time. We also learned that wild dogs are democratic – they “vote” on whether it’s time to go hunt by sneezing. The alpha male and female’s sneezes, however, count for more votes than the rank and file.

On warthogs, the males have four tusks — two prominent upward-curving ones and two smaller ones behind. Females have just the two front tusks. The babies have little white facial tufts that simulate tusks until their real ones grow. Their tails stick straight up when they run — partly for communication in tall grass, partly for balance. (They do trip. A lot.)

We learned about elephant social structure. The matriarch — what I scribbled as “Mytrog” — is the head female. She leads the herd and influences mate selection for younger females. The dominant males operate more independently and are responsible for mentoring younger bulls on how to “behave” like adult males.

To distinguish male from female elephants visually: the female often has a more V-shaped forehead; the male’s forehead tends to appear broader and flatter. Subtle, but once you see it, you see it.

We saw a Cape glossy starling — metallic blue-black — and remembered why they’re called kamikaze birds at picnics.

We learned about amarula—the fruit elephants love—which is turned into a cream liqueur that tastes like a cross between Baileys and coquito. Abe picked some up in Victoria Falls, and we had it for dessert on our first night here. If it shows up in Duty Free, resistance may be futile.

That said, with a 44 lb checked limit and a 15 lb carry-on, every potential purchase is now evaluated in pounds. “Lovely carving . . . nope, that’s a pound.” If I can’t wear it, it’s a liability.

And then — perhaps most fascinating — we learned why giraffes must keep moving. When they browse on acacia trees, the tree begins producing tannins that make the leaves bitter. Not only that, the tree releases airborne chemical signals that alert neighboring trees, which then also turn their leaves bitter. So giraffes must move constantly, outpacing the communication network of the trees.

Nature is not passive.

It is strategic.

We head out again in about twenty minutes for the afternoon drive.

If yesterday was 600 photos and a black mamba, I’m not betting against Kruger.

Stay tuned.

I never get a percentage from any links I include – but! – if you are curious about Overseas Adventure Travel and want $100 off, call them at 1-800-955-1925 and request their amazing catalog, tell them you were referred by Sandy Shepard, customer number 3087257, and get $100 off your first trip! The catalog is what all good dreams are made of!

Day 11: Elephants in the Street, Empire Lessons, and Arrival at Buckler’s

Posted on by Sandy

We didn’t have to get up too early — bags outside the door, breakfast, and off we went. The drive to the airport wasn’t long, though it was punctuated by an elephant calmly blocking the street. As one does.

Lynn had taken my shaving kit into her checked bag (which is now about ten pounds under weight, thanks to the school computers being gifted and some strategic shifting). Unfortunately, the bag I purchased to replace the dearly departed over-the-shoulder bag that died at the airport is not quite as roomy. I did my best to stuff it with the camera bag and tech bag. The late, great bag had also held the two pounds of Ghirardelli chocolates for our upcoming home-hosted visit. Yes, lamented.

We flew from Zimbabwe back into South Africa and landed at Kruger Mpumalanga International Airport. Mpumalanga is the province that borders Kruger National Park, and the word means “place of the rising sun.”

On our roughly 1 hour 45 minute van drive, we received a master class in South African history.

“Kruger” refers to Paul Kruger, the second-to-last president of the South African Republic (Transvaal) before the British took control. When defeat seemed imminent, he fled into Mozambique (then Portuguese territory), and ultimately to Switzerland, where he died in exile.

Abe reminded us that “Afrikaners” were not just of Dutch origin, but also included French Huguenots and Germans who had settled here. The word “Boer” means farmer — though today it is often used as a pejorative.

The British originally had little interest beyond trade, but once gold was discovered, everything changed. In 1910, the British and Afrikaners formed the Union of South Africa — in part because together they represented only about 10% of the population, and unity strengthened their political control. It was described as a democracy, but it was democracy for some, not for all.

As Abe put it, they believed it was their “God-given right and moral obligation” to educate — and rule — the indigenous population. South Africa became, in many ways, a “little Europe.”

It took 84 years before South Africa became a true democracy in 1994.

Abe did note that during white minority rule, South Africa developed some of the most productive agricultural land in the world. This province is an example: lush, subtropical, and astonishingly green. We saw citrus groves, banana trees wrapped in protective coverings, and macadamia nut farms — which are currently booming, with farmers pulling out other crops to plant macadamias.

This area also produces timber for the paper industry and sits atop some of South Africa’s largest coal reserves — much of it lower-grade coal used in power generation and heavy industry, including smelting operations such as copper processing in Zambia.

Large tracts of land and many mines remain owned by international conglomerates. De Beers, for example, is not just about diamonds.

Abe pointed out something I hadn’t realized: look at the name on your juice box on the plane — Rhodes.

Cecil Rhodes founded Rhodes Fruit Farms, which still operates today. Rhodes never married and had no children; instead, he poured his wealth into imperial expansion and philanthropy (including the Rhodes Scholarship). He was very much the flip side of Livingstone — a buccaneering imperialist who aggressively acquired land for what he saw as the glory of “Queen Vicky” and the British Empire, during the era when it was said the sun never set on that empire.

Many British settlers wrote of South Africa as “empty land,” ignoring the indigenous populations who had lived here for generations.

Driving along the roads, you sometimes see white crosses marking places where farmers were killed — a visible reminder of how deeply entangled and unresolved land and race issues remain.

We arrived at Buckler’s Africa Lodge and, after a brief rooming debacle, were rewarded with a lovely lunch overlooking the Crocodile River.

There was an elephant quite close to the deck, and another further upstream with five hippos nearby. Abe and I were both surprised the hippos were out of the water — it was hot, and their skin is sensitive!

All of our meals are covered while we’re here. We’ve had lunch and are now unpacking just enough to reassemble “safari clothes” before dinner.

Tomorrow is our first full Kruger game drive: wake-up call at 5:00 (coffee, tea, rusks), depart at 5:30, into Kruger by 6:00 through Crocodile Bridge Gate. Breakfast packs at 8, lunch at 12, back to the lodge by 3, and dinner at 7.

The following day — Monday, Herbert’s birthday — we repeat the early start, return to Buckler’s for a proper breakfast at 9:30, lunch at 1:00, an afternoon drive at 2:30, and then a Boma dinner at 7 with local entertainment.

When we were getting ready to leave the U.S., there had been massive flooding in Kruger, closing much of the park and causing evacuations. I had watched a YouTube video filmed from the deck at Buckler’s showing the Crocodile River raging almost up to the deck.

Today, while eating lunch on that same deck, I realized that an entire building between the riverbank and the deck must have been underwater.

The staff confirmed it.

Everything is fine now.

I don’t think I took any photos today — between getting up and out, driving, flying, and driving again. Well, that’s not entirely true. I did try to take photos of the hippos and elephant across the Crocodile River, but I’m feeling too lazy right now to get out the SD card transfer cable. Those will wind up in tomorrow’s post.

And finally — thank you.

I spend a fair bit of time getting what we learn and what I’m noticing into this blog. I mostly do it because my mom reads it aloud to my dad, and sometimes my dad pulls it up himself.

But to the rest of you out there who are following along — thank you, thank you, and thank you. 😉

I never get a percentage from any links I include – but! – if you are curious about Overseas Adventure Travel and want $100 off, call them at 1-800-955-1925 and request their amazing catalog, tell them you were referred by Sandy Shepard, customer number 3087257, and get $100 off your first trip! The catalog is what all good dreams are made of!

Day 10: Rhino Sleuthing, The Big (and Ugly) 5, and the Lovely Livingstone Lodge

Posted on by Sandy

Today was our Zambia day — passports in hand, dual-entry visas at the ready.

No issues heading into Zambia (aside from the ever-present copper bracelet hustlers). Coming back into Zimbabwe was more dramatic: about half our crew had visa issues, while the rest of us — the dual-entry visa crowd — slipped back in without trouble.

We crossed over to sleuth out a rhino and, in the process, learned far more about elephants, vultures, monitor lizards, termite architecture, antelope anatomy, and group names than I expected.

And yes — we did see two rhinos. I’m not sure that officially qualifies as a crash (the proper group name for rhinos), but it was enough to make us happy.

First: elephants.

An elephant can be left- or right-“handed.” If the left tusk is sharper, that’s the dominant side. The dominant tusk is used for finer tasks — digging, stripping bark — while the blunter tusk handles heavier chores. If an elephant loses a tusk, it’s usually the blunter, more heavily used one.

And how to tell a male from a female elephant?

Watch the bathroom habits.

A female urinates directly on top of her dung.

A male sprays forward or around it — but never on top.

You’re welcome.

On to rhinos:

Black rhinos stand in front of their babies to protect them.

White rhinos keep their babies in front of them.

White rhinos have a noticeable shoulder hump and graze with their heads down. Black rhinos browse from trees and shrubs, so their heads are often up — which makes them harder to hunt. White rhinos, heads down in the grass, are easier to sneak up on.

We also learned that White Rhinos Don’t Jump. There is safari lore that if one charges, lying flat behind a log might save you — unless there’s a herd. In that case, apparently, they will simply surround you.

Comforting.

Those of us on the pre-trip have seen four of the Big Five — lion, elephant, rhino, and Cape buffalo — but not the mythical leopard. Those who joined us for the main trip have seen two so far.

We’ve all seen three of the Ugly Five — wildebeest, warthog, and vulture —the remaining two members of that less-than-glamorous club are the hyena and the marabou stork. As we head to Kruger tomorrow morning, we’re expecting to add a few more to our tally.

Then, there is also the Little Five (animals whose names contain the Big Five) – the antlion, the elephant shrew, the rhinoceros beetle, leopard tortoise (which we did see on the pre-trip), and the buffalo weaver.

Naturally, that led us to invent a few additional categories.

For the Nasty Five, we nominated the honey badger (zero fear, zero manners), the assassin beetle, the demonic wasps that stung me yesterday . . . to which I would add the black mamba and the tsetse fly — small, but historically mighty — to round out the category.

For the Pretty Five, we proposed the giraffe (elegance personified) and the cheetah; I’d add the zebra (nature’s graphic design masterpiece), the lilac-breasted roller (if Africa had a jewel mascot), and either the African fish eagle (wings outstretched over the Zambezi) or the puku — which we were lucky enough to see both male and female, separately.

Speaking of zebra, we also learned that a group of zebras is called a dazzle. The name fits perfectly: when predators are hunting them, the adults put the babies in the center and then weave and move together in a shifting black-and-white blur, trying to “dazzle” the predator and make it lose track of the young.

The puku is a reddish-brown antelope that favors wetlands and river plains. They’re built a bit differently from impala — slightly heavier through the front with relatively shorter forelegs — and their running style reflects that. They bound strongly forward but don’t leap as high or as theatrically as impala.

We also saw one white-backed vulture — the “undertaker” of the vulture world. They aren’t strong enough to open carcasses themselves, so they wait for larger vultures to do the heavy lifting. Poachers sometimes kill vultures because circling birds reveal where illegal kills have taken place.

We spotted a Cape glossy starling — otherwise known as a kamikaze picnic bird. They will absolutely bomb you for your food. Ruthless.

Termite mounds are marvels of architecture. They’re rounded — no corners — because snakes prefer corners to hide in. No corners, fewer snakes. They also lean away from the prevailing east wind, meaning they subtly “point” west.

We had lunch at the David Livingstone Safari Lodge on the Zambezi — quite the place. Polished wood, sweeping river views, and the kind of lodge where you half expect someone to hand you a gin and tonic just for walking in. We were meant to eat outside, but the rain had other ideas.

While there, I broke down and purchased a red, black, and white kente-cloth-style duster. It seemed inevitable.

Before the Lodge, we visited a large local market. In the slideshow, you can see photos of the various wares…including dried maggots which I think I heard Ari tried (not recommended). We were tasked with speaking to someone and learning something interesting. I spoke with two men who were removing worn thread from sandals and re-stitching them.

What were they using for thread?

Strips cut from Dunlop tires.

They slice thread-thin bands from old tires and use them as nearly indestructible stitching material. The original thread gives way first — so they replace it with something that won’t.

Ingenious.

As I type this, a serious thunderstorm is rolling overhead.

Tomorrow we leave for Kruger. Bags to pack. Boots to dry. Leopard to locate.

Slideshow HERE.

I never get a percentage from any links I include – but! – if you are curious about Overseas Adventure Travel and want $100 off, call them at 1-800-955-1925 and request their amazing catalog, tell them you were referred by Sandy Shepard, customer number 3087257, and get $100 off your first trip! The catalog is what all good dreams are made of!

Day 9: Chidobe — Learners, Lost Notes, and Seeing Through Their Eyes

Posted on by Sandy

Today we visited a homestead near Chidobe and met the headman and his family, had a snack there, and then went on to the Chidobe School, which Overseas Adventure Travel’s charitable arm supports.

OAT builds a few core elements into every trip — not just seeing beautiful places, but having a true “Day in the Life” connection with the communities alongside the route, and supporting local projects through the Grand Circle Foundation. Today was very much that kind of day.

I’m frustrated to say that I took a LOT of notes on my phone (instead of my trusty notebook and pencil — I should know better) and they have completely gone walkabout. All that is left is one lonely note: school costs about $25 per term, and there are three terms.

So I’m going to do this the old-fashioned way: from memory.

We learned that each village is made up of a number of homes, overseen by a village headman. Then the headmen fall under a chief. The homestead we visited was led by a headman responsible for more than ninety homesteads.

Abe had purchased for us (courtesy of OAT) beautiful stiff, batik-like wrap cloths to wear. He told us, though, that if any of the women wanted what we were wearing, we had to give it up.

So… I don’t have one anymore.

First, we headed to a local market area, were split into four groups, given some money, and tasked with getting staples (big bag of maize, cooking oil, brown sugar, salt, soap). We were bringing these to the headman and his wives.

We learned a lot about their lives — and they learned about ours. We tamped maize down into flour. Everyone but me had a peanut and pumpkin-leaf stew over maize.

In trying to get away from the peanut smell, I stepped backward into a tree full of wasps.

Immediately stung three times on my hand.

YOWZAH.

It hurt terribly, and my hand began swelling right away. Abe saw it and asked the headman if there was anything that could help. He went into his house and came out with a salve, which he rubbed onto the bites.

The pain stopped almost instantly.

My hand is still a bit swollen — especially where two stings landed right on my knuckles — but I was quite thankful for the salve!

From there, we headed to Chidobe School.

The school is supported through OAT’s philanthropic efforts, and it was such a joyful, energetic place. We were each assigned a “learner” to show us around. I got two boys — their names were long, so I ended up calling them “older brother” and “younger brother.”

They showed us classrooms, the grounds, and the daily rhythm of the school.

But what they were most interested in…

was Herbert’s camera.

I put it around older brother’s neck and showed him how to take photos on automatic. He went into his classroom and around the property taking pictures of everything that mattered to him.

Then I made him teach younger brother, and he did the same.

We were joined by the vice principal, who told us these boys would receive enormous cred for being trusted with such an expensive camera.

And here is the BEST PART:

All the photos in the slideshow (and below) where taken by the boys. Slideshow HERE.

Yes, I deleted quite a few — trees, grass, the side of a building, a truly artistic close-up of nothing — but the ones that remain are wonderful.

It is the school through their eyes.

We took a group photo, and then we were off to lunch at a local restaurant.

Back at the Shearwater afterward, Mary, Lynn, and I headed into the market Fran had found the other day, because I desperately needed an over-the-shoulder bag to replace the one that fell apart at the airport.

I found two and made a deal: not only would he reinforce the straps (he had a sewing machine), but he would give me both for $20.

Then we wandered into the indoor market building — which was entirely men, entirely intense, and entirely in-your-face.

Mary and Lynn said they were overwhelmed, so I started holding my finger to my lips, or telling vendors that if they spoke to us, they would owe us money.

One guy got huffy.

But one young man heard what I was doing and simply stood silently, indicating his wares without saying a word.

Naturally, I bought from him.

I was looking for a tiny beaded hippo with its mouth open. The silent vendor had little wire animals with beads slid onto them, and I found a few I liked. Mary and Lynn made the final choice.

Eight dollars. 🙂

I was very happy to have not one but two replacements for my critical “carry-on shoulder bag.” (I tested them with the merchant by dumping the camera bag inside — some had too narrow a neck.)

Tomorrow, we head off on a “rhino hunt” in Zambia — which is why we needed the dual-entry visa and why we must carry our passports. We’ll cross into Zambia, spend time there, and then return to Zimbabwe.

And after that…

It will be time to pack up, in anticipation of flying off to Stellenbosch.

Onward.

I never get a percentage from any links I include – but! – if you are curious about Overseas Adventure Travel and want $100 off, call them at 1-800-955-1925 and request their amazing catalog, tell them you were referred by Sandy Shepard, customer number 3087257, and get $100 off your first trip! The catalog is what all good dreams are made of!

Day 8: Victoria Falls — Walking, (Soaking), Helicopters, Elephants, and Simunye

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Slideshow of Victoria Falls/Zambia portion HERE.

Today started with a walk down to Victoria Falls, and wow was it wet! I chose not to wear the provided rain poncho but instead slung it over the camera bag to save the most expensive part (ha ha). So by the end, every stitch of anything I was wearing — and every inch of my body — was soaked through… but the camera was fine. (The photos are in the link above.)

We learned a lot about the Falls and the river that makes them so amazing. The local indigenous name for Victoria Falls is Mosi-oa-Tunya, which means “the smoke that thunders” — a reference to the massive spray and rumble that can be seen and heard from miles away.

We also heard about Dr. David Livingstone, the Scottish explorer and missionary who is credited with “discovering” the Falls for the European world in the 1850s (though of course local people had known them forever). Livingstone’s journeys across Africa made him one of the most influential explorers of his generation, traveling over 45,000 km across largely uncharted territory. Later in life he dedicated himself to fighting the East African slave trade. Many places named after Europeans have now been renamed – but anything with Livingstone’s name still remains, a testament to his work for Africa.

Victoria Falls is where the famous meeting with Henry Morton Stanley took place — greeted with the immortal line: “Dr. Livingstone, I presume?” Livingstone died in 1873 in what is now northern Zambia, and in an extraordinary act of devotion, his companions carried his preserved remains over 1,500 km back to the coast. His body was returned to Britain, but symbolically, his heart remained in Africa.

He named the waterfall Victoria Falls in honor of Queen Victoria — but standing there today, soaked to the bone, it feels much more like “Smoke That Thunders” is the correct name.

The waterfall itself is part of the Zambezi River, one of Africa’s great rivers, flowing through multiple countries before plunging into this incredible gorge. The Zambezi is the fourth-longest river in Africa (after the Nile, the Congo, and the Niger).

Our driver took us around the falls, and it was fascinating to see how the waterfall is not just one drop, but a whole series of named sections: Devil’s Cataract, the Main Falls, Horseshoe Falls, Rainbow Falls, Armchair Falls, and the Eastern Cataract — with Livingstone Island sitting right at the brink.

One of the signs compared Victoria Falls to other great waterfalls: it is taller than Niagara Falls, and while Iguazu is wider overall, Victoria Falls is often described as the largest sheet of continuously falling water in the world. Victoria Falls is about 1,737 meters wide (5,698 feet) and 107 meters high (351 feet) — an absolutely staggering wall of water when you are standing in the spray.

We also heard some fascinating cultural stories and traditional lore. One story was about different tribal ways of confirming paternity: in some tribes, when a child was born the elders would observe how livestock behaved around the baby. The goats were let out of their pen, then the baby was bundled up and lain across the threshold. If the goats wouldn’t step over the baby to get back into the pen, there was something suspect with the baby’s paternity.

In crocodile clans, if the crocodiles didn’t eat the baby if it was bundled up and laid in the water (yes, really), it was believed the child was truly a member of the family — especially if two crocs left it alone.

Next up was a helicopter tour over the Falls and the gorge — unbelievable views! Slideshow HERE. It’s so impressive from above to see the full width of this massive river suddenly plunging into the chasm below. Also seeing how many times the river has changed direction, cut and turned, etc. was fascinating.

After that we did the Eye of the Elephant tour. The guy who talked to us was absolutely great; we not only learned a lot (such as: a male elephant has a secretion gland behind his eyes that shows if he is afraid, in grief, etc. – if you see one with a dark streak down its face, BEWARE), but he also made us close our eyes, and sent us into a “meditation” to “become” an elephant.

Once we were elephants, we were named after one on the compound – Lynn and I were chosen to be “Musubi,” the smartest female, who “figures out all the treat hides” when they are doing “enrichment” with the elephants. (Sounds about right?). Then we met our elephant — ours was Cariba. Slideshow HERE. (Trunk boops = always joyful.)

We also learned that an elephant’s trunk contains about 40,000 individual muscles (technically muscle fascicles). No bones. No joints. Just astonishingly intricate muscle structure. For comparison, the entire human body has only around 600 muscles. Which means an elephant’s trunk alone has more than sixty times the muscle power of our whole bodies. That’s how they can delicately pick up a single blade of grass, lift a calf, strip bark from a tree, or blast water with precision accuracy. It’s essentially a biological Swiss Army knife. No wonder they can paint pictures and we struggle with parallel parking.

At the end, we were encouraged of course to donate (it’s a non-profit and even with the tours, etc it has trouble making ends meet), and then were “turned back into humans” from being elephants. Our tour guide said to us ladies that “sorrowfully, you must lose the long eyelashes you have had,” and the men? Well, they had to lose their . . . “So large and impressive Appendage.”

On the way home we ran into a troupe of baboons – doing baboon things, though one looked like he was on his cell phone. (Some people call a group of baboons a “Congress” – I’ll just let that one lie.)

The last thing we did that day was go to a play called Simunye — The Spirit of Africa, a local production near the Falls. It’s a beautifully creative performance that combines puppetry, dance, music, and visuals to tell a story about love, unity, and community through African myth and folklore. And it didn’t help that the “hero” was very easy on the eyes, either!

I never get a percentage from any links I include – but! – if you are curious about Overseas Adventure Travel and want $100 off, call them at 1-800-955-1925 and request their amazing catalog, tell them you were referred by Sandy Shepard, customer number 3087257, and get $100 off your first trip! The catalog is what all good dreams are made of!

Day 7: The bag as an illegal paszenjah, plus the Zambezi

Posted on by Sandy

This morning began, as so many of our mornings do, with the ANEW buffet.

I continue to believe this buffet is… trying its best.

Breakfast was serviceable, but not exactly the breakfasting at the buffet-a of our dreams. Lynn, poor thing, had slept terribly, so we were running on a combination of caffeine, competence, and sheer travel momentum.

Bags were outside the door by 6:30 a.m., porter-assisted as promised, and the bus rolled out at 7:00 sharp.

Airport check-in was refreshingly smooth. My suitcase weighed in at the top-end-allowed 44 pounds, and my carry-on was the top-end-allowed 15 — but that was with cleverly stashing in my (unequaled) over to my shoulder cloth bag:

  • about two pounds of Ghirardelli chocolates (for the upcoming home-hosted meal),
  • all my tech,
  • and the full Nikon camera situation

Everything was fine until right before passport stamping, when the universe decided I was getting a little too confident.

The cloth bag strap broke.

Not “fraying.” Not “loosening.” Broke. Down at the bag itself. No possibility of knotting. No duct tape miracle.

Argh! (Which Siri helpfully just autocorrected to “Dead!” which honestly felt accurate.)

RIP, wonderful travel accessory. You served bravely.

So now I had to expand my carry-on and shove all the cloth-bag contents inside, which made the carry-on approximately the size of a small refrigerator.

And then we boarded the plane.

This was not a plane. This was a flying suggestion.

It was so tiny that walking down the aisle required me to tilt my head so far sideways that my cheek was nearly brushing the ceiling. I immediately realized: this carry-on is not fitting in any overhead compartment built for mortal luggage.

I fought the very intense “one person at a time, one-way traffic” back to the flight attendant and asked if she could stow it.

She said she’d come see.

She came, noticed I didn’t have anyone sitting next to me, and said, “Just put it there.”

So I did.

I heaved the bag into the empty seat and buckled it in like a passenger.

When she came back, she absolutely cracked up.

“No,” she said, kindly but firmly, “you can’t have the bag as a passenger.”

(Paszenjah.)

All the intraAfrica flights had very nice snack boxes. USA – take note.

Fair.

She had me put it on the floor in front of that seat instead, which in retrospect is how planes usually work.

We arrived in Zimbabwe to an airport entry scene that was immediately joyful: a male singing group in traditional dress performing in the arrivals area — very Ladysmith Black Mambazo energy, and a lovely welcome.

My dual-entry visa worked perfectly, but there was some real visa drama in our group. Theresa had paid $70 for hers, only to learn it was single-entry — meaning she’ll have to pay another $70 when we cross again. Other folks had other issues. Mike got a single entry and was told that was “enough” (though it means he will need to pay another $30 tomorrow). Janice had gotten this accidentally when she got her online one. Mary, and Brigitte and Jean-Marie had all used the “OAT strongly suggested” company that got the visas for you – which cost I believe they said like $100 each direction. Craziness.

Abe had thought I might need to adjust by $5 (since the old dual-entry visas ($45) are gone and the KAZA Univisa is now the main option ($50)), but… nope! Got through swimmingly.

After our meeting at the hotel — the Shearwater Explorers Village — we had a bit of downtime. Lynn and I came back to the room and did the usual travel ritual: reorganizing clothing cubes, figuring out the next few days, and trying to restore order to the suitcase ecosystem after Strapgate 2026.

Later, dinner was on the Zambezi, which felt wonderfully surreal.

(Also: Zimbabwe is often translated as “house of stone” or “great stone houses,” referencing the ancient stone city of Great Zimbabwe. And Victoria Falls’ local name, Mosi-oa-Tunya, means “The Smoke That Thunders,” which is exactly right.)

My dinner choice was a very tasty tomato basil soup, followed by a slow-braised kudu stew with grilled boerewors, mealie sadza, and chomolia — basically the Southern Africa comfort-food plate: rich game stew, smoky sausage, cornmeal staple, and greens.

“Chad” and I had carefully determined that the correct wine pairing was Pinotage — South Africa’s signature grape, smoky and perfect with game.

Reader, they were out of the Pinotage.

Whut-WHAAAA.

So I had to “settle” for the Shiraz, which leaned more fruity than peppery… though to be fair, the wine arrived after we had had to start our food, and it’s entirely possible I lost the peppery overtones to the boerewors.

A sentence I never expected to write, but here we are.

Abe, disregarding the sign at the bar behind him.

We’re back at Shearwater now, and tomorrow is early: up and out by 5:30 a.m. for Victoria Falls. We’ll drive over, then walk about a mile to the falls. At 11:00 we have the helicopter flight over the falls and gorge, lunch afterward, and then at 2:30 the Elephant Experience.

Dinner remains a mystery.

Fran, one of the non-pre-trip gals, scouted some shops and reported seeing bags that could solve my sudden lack of shoulder-bag infrastructure. So tomorrow, between waterfalls and elephants, I may also be shopping for Shoulder Bag: The Sequel.

Because travel, as always, is glamour punctuated by logistics.

Slideshow from the river dinner cruise, plus Victoria Falls (see next blog post) HERE.

I never get a percentage from any links I include – but! – if you are curious about Overseas Adventure Travel and want $100 off, call them at 1-800-955-1925 and request their amazing catalog, tell them you were referred by Sandy Shepard, customer number 3087257, and get $100 off your first trip! The catalog is what all good dreams are made of!

Day 6: A Misty Bush Walk, a Regret, and the Return to Pretoria

Posted on by Sandy

Slideshow of entire Entabeni portion HERE.

Day 6 was fairly short — and we got to sleep in (yay!).

We headed out in misty-to-rainy weather for a bush walk. We drove out to the main grassland at the foot of the big butte and spent the morning learning the kind of safari facts that make you feel like you’re suddenly in Nature’s graduate seminar.

We learned about the Resurrection Plant — you can let it completely dry out, and then put it in water any time later, and it will spring back to life as if nothing happened.

We learned about aardvarks and termite mounds.

We learned that rhinos basically use one section of a field the way a cat uses a litter box: all poo in one place.

And that this is not just gross trivia — it’s information. If a new male comes into an area, he will search out that spot and “read” it: is there another male here? Is a female in estrus?

But similarly, if the old male smells a new male’s scent on the pile, he will search him down and kill him.

Nature is… not subtle.

Isaac broke off a branch from a tree that lions use to scent themselves so prey can’t smell them. It had a strong, herbal smell — a bit like a “cowboy cologne” plant from home.

We also made a toothbrush out of the inside of another branch. It even had a slightly numbing, acidic taste, which Isaac said was basically the toothpaste.

Unfortunately, we all discovered that the “rain ponchos” from the vehicle used the term rain in the most aspirational sense possible — as in, they looked like ponchos, but the rain came straight through and soaked you anyway.

At this moment, we’re back at the ANEW Hotel Pretoria, and we’ve met up with the rest of the group.

Abe treated us to a round of champagne for minor introductions (the main ones will happen tomorrow when we are in Zimbabwe, on a cruise on the Zambezi River).

Janice, Mary, Lynn, and I headed over to the attached mall to get some money at the ATM, and for Janice to pick up a few items she’d forgotten to pack.

We wandered around a bit, and finally found…

A Woolworth’s!

Mary mentioned she thought that brand had basically gone extinct a decade ago. Apparently not here.

Abe had told us that malls are booming in South Africa now that there is a rising Black middle class. Most people don’t buy online — it reminded me a bit of how integral malls were in the U.S. back in the 1960s. We got gelato (“Lotus” flavor for Mary and Janice), and headed back to the hotel.

My one regret so far is that on the drive back from Entabeni, I saw a monkey to the side of the road — a vervet monkey, grey with a black face and (yes) a blue bum.

As we passed it by, I looked up and saw there were at least twenty monkeys hanging all over the tree.

Abe was asleep in the passenger seat, but I was in the front row. What I should have done is tapped Andrew, the driver, on the sleeve and asked him to pull over.

(We were still on the dirt road.)

I just couldn’t think that fast.

A bit of regret. They were so cute.

A completely separate thought: “Wide Load” vehicles here are marked as “Abnormal.”

Shades of Young Frankenstein (“Abby Normal”)…

Ate at the buffet here at the hotel for dinner, and it was TERRIBLE. All the meat was dry and overcooked, there was sand in the spinach, etc.

The last straw was that the buffet cost far more than Lynn’s meal (chicken curry) — and a glass of wine! — ordered off the menu.

Ah well.

We have an early morning. Lynn and I have been weighing and packing and re-weighing and shifting and packing things.

We are really hoping Abe was right that we can have a “sling bag,” because my sling bag currently contains the full camera rig, all my tech, and now — in order to get the check-in bag under 44 pounds — the home-host present of two pounds of Ghirardelli chocolates.

Priorities.

Tomorrow: Zimbabwe, The Zambezi, and hopefully a buffet redemption arc

I never get a percentage from any links I include – but! – if you are curious about Overseas Adventure Travel and want $100 off, call them at 1-800-955-1925 and request their amazing catalog, tell them you were referred by Sandy Shepard, customer number 3087257, and get $100 off your first trip! The catalog is what all good dreams are made of!

Day 5 p.m.: Sad Truths, A Crash of Rhino (Almost), and a Happy Braai

Posted on by Sandy

This afternoon we drove to the Rhino Orphanage, where we learned a great deal about South Africa’s long and heartbreaking history with poaching.

Through the 1960s, the numbers were going down, down, down — to roughly 370 rhinos killed in a year. But then, decades later, the crisis surged again after a very specific spark: in the late 2000s, a high-profile Vietnamese politician publicly claimed — on television and in the press — that rhinoceros horn had cured his cancer. The story spread far and wide, and the demand exploded.

It cannot.

Rhino horn is keratin — the same substance as human fingernails — but the belief, and the money behind it, has driven an absolutely devastating trade. We heard some disheartening and sickening stories that I won’t repeat here.

What I will say is that the orphanage is doing extraordinary work.

We were able to see several rhinos that cannot be released, including one that showed up with a “10% chance” because his skull was hacked through and he had 30 machete cuts.  Another, as a tiny baby, had survived a shotgun attack that killed her mother while shooting out both her eyes in the process. As an adult, she has taken on the role of “mothering” the newly rescued, traumatized babies — a quiet kind of resilience that was almost impossible to witness without feeling undone.

They feed the rhinos hay and pellets . . . and of course the warthogs horn in (yes, I did that on purpose) and try their best to pretend they are also rhinos and deserve pellets too.

We were allowed only limited photos, because nothing can be shared that would give away the location. There is a large crash of rhinos there — and the poachers would absolutely come.

The economics are part of the horror: once rhino horn is trafficked out of South Africa and reaches the end consumer market, it has been reported to sell for tens of thousands of dollars per kilogram — sometimes quoted as rivaling the price of gold. And it isn’t simply a matter of “cutting off a horn”: poachers often take both horns and even hack away the tissue and bone between them — essentially scalping the rhino’s face.

And the corruption runs deep: this is not just greedy individuals on the ground, but organized networks, bribery, and graft at very high levels.

Abe even told us a story from a couple of years ago, when he was asked (while working with a different tour company) to guide a group of “Vietnamese businessmen.” Only later did he realize he had unwittingly been adjacent to this vile trade — the court visits, the politician meetings . . . the wheels being greased.

It was sobering, in the truest sense of the word.

Our guide told us that a documentary had been made about the whole rhino horn trade/etc. called “Stroop” – two women documentarians had spent more time than they’d expected (isn’t that the way) and wound up basically doing an “expose.” She said that it’s winning all sorts of film awards.


After the orphanage, we headed out for our final jeep safari at Entabeni.

Isaac somehow spotted a crocodile lying perfectly still in long grass near a stream full of sugar-cane-looking reeds — the photo above doesn’t quite capture how enormous this creature was. (Also, I’ll never quite look at the “innocent” sugar-cane-looking reeds again.)

We saw a lone male giraffe eating the tops of a tree, and, because I was on the other side of the vehicle, handed Janice H’s camera to try to capture that incredible tongue.

We also found the pride of lions — the mother and her four boys — all absolutely stuffed and sleeping in the satisfied way that suggested Mom definitely caught something the night before.

And then, last but certainly not least…

As we were about 2/3 of the way home, a very large male rhino decided to mosey down the “alley” of the road, away from us, and directly toward two other safari vehicles full of tourists. (Cue Sir Mixalot “Baby Got Back”)

A group of rhinos is called a crash. . .This one nearly caused the crash all by himself.

For a few minutes, all of us were politely inching forward (us) or inching backward (them), as if we were commuters dealing with a slow-moving tank who had the unquestioned right of way. The rhino, meanwhile, spent his time spreading “Pmail” about every yard in firehose-like fashion.

In an attempt to let the rhino pass, then let us pass, and ultimately to get around us (it was not a wide path!), one of the vehicles heading towards us backed cautiously into a field surrounded by trees.

The rhino started looking like he would “mosey right past” the vehicle that was basically in a cul-de-sac – changed its mind, wheeled, and headed into the cul-de-sac.

We couldn’t see the rhino (or the look on the guide’s face – obviously one of “Oh THIS was a mistake of epic proportions….”), so the other vehicle facing us, and our vehicle, just had to sit there. We didn’t want to disturb any thoughts that were going through that rhino’s oh-so-thick pate.

Finally, the rhino snorted, backed back out, and started to mosey back down the road. As we crawled along behind it, we ultimately could see into the cul-de-sac. The visitors still looked a little shell shocked. The young guide still had a bit of a ghostly pallor. We suck – we burst out laughing at what had happened. Once we passed the cul-de-sac, they were able to get “around” behind us and down the road.

The other vehicle that was facing us had backed up to a cross road, but we were still a good 40 yards away. The tank (I mean rhino), of course, didn’t mosey on up to the cross road; instead, he walked into a little field to the left of the path. Again – ringed by trees, so we couldn’t see what he was doing.

We could just barely see his eyes and horn through the bush that separated us. He put his head down, then back up, then back down, back up, and ultimately down. Isaac, our driver, waited a tic, driving OH SO SLOWLY up so that he could see the rhino “for sure.” The rhino was in fact grazing (facing us), so Isaac put the jeep into high gear and SPED out to the crossroad.

He said that if the rhino’s head had stayed up, he couldn’t have risked it – but if its head stayed down, the “balancing act” for it to bring that big head up to get a bead on us to charge, then charge, took too long and (as Isaac had surmised), the rhino just decided he’d played the game long enough.

We wondered what the rhino would tell the “boys” that evening. Probably something like:

“You should have seen me today. I held off three giant metal beasts full of squishy tourists. Absolute dominance. Peeing all the way. I win.”

Back at the lodge, it was our last dinner here: a braai — South African barbecue — though we had to eat indoors instead of in the Boma because it had turned chilly and a bit misty.

There was singing from the staff, a warm chat from Abe, and then, finally, bed.

It’s not even 10 p.m. as I type this, which tells you everything you need to know.

The Wi-Fi hotspot isn’t working, and typing in the reception area holds absolutely no appeal.

Tomorrow: a bush walk in the mist, and then back to Pretoria to meet up with the rest of the group.

For now: goodnight from Entabeni.

I never get a percentage from any links I include – but! – if you are curious about Overseas Adventure Travel and want $100 off, call them at 1-800-955-1925 and request their amazing catalog, tell them you were referred by Sandy Shepard, customer number 3087257, and get $100 off your first trip! The catalog is what all good dreams are made of!

Day 5 a.m.: Downward Cheetah, Dirt Baths, and a Wee One Testing Mom’s Forbearance

Posted on by Sandy

Up again at 5:00 a.m.

For some reason my alarm didn’t go off — but thank goodness this lodge operates on the very practical system of knocking firmly on your door until you rejoin the living.

I was especially tired today. I haven’t been sleeping particularly well, and I’ve been battling a growing frustration with trying to upload photos into the blog.

At this point I’ve decided I will revisit the whole “proper photo upload” situation either at a hotel . . . or, more realistically, once I’m back home with real Wi-Fi and fewer early-morning safaris.

In the meantime, you are all being subjected to the iPhotos slideshow method — which does create lovely “artistic” combinations of images, except that it often decides the most compelling way to show a giraffe is . . . an artistic close-up of its kneecap.

Still: it’s better than nothing; you can find the slideshow for this morning HERE.

Wind Tunnel Safari Fashion

It still isn’t particularly cold, but the wind in the jeep funnels straight through like nature’s own leaf blower.

I did use my gloves today: a mismatched set, both black, but one proudly touting The California International Marathon on the back, while the other represents some entirely different race where cotton backed gloves for cold weather nose wiping was a Thing.

And I am absolutely using the warm headband (thank you, Marin Rowing). My ears salute you.

Speed Sightings and Shy Antelope

Our first “it still counts as a sighting even if it races across the road at a million miles an hour” animal was a duiker.

Abe told us these are quite unusual to spot — and the name comes from the Afrikaans word describing their habit of “diving” straight into the bush the moment they sense anything vaguely carnivorous nearby.

We also came around a corner to a pair of kudu, calm and elegant.

A black-backed jackal ran alongside the vehicle as well — basically a fox wearing coyote-colored outerwear.

The Cheetah Brothers (and One Very Satisfied Spray)

We were treated to something not often seen: the cheetah brothers were up and walking around in coalition (the name for a cheetah “gang”).

Most photos of cheetahs involve them lying in the sun looking like they are professionally relaxing. But today they were active — and they came so close to the jeep that you truly could have reached down and touched them.

Obviously, we did not. But the proximity was . . . thrilling. Mary held her hand over her mouth when one came right up to her side of the jeep. Isaac gleefully told us that sometimes they climb up on the warm car hood, or jump up to the roof. Eep!

One of the brothers — likely the older one, slightly bigger — did what all cat owners fear when dealing with a male:

He sprayed everything.

When I took a couple of photos, the satisfied expression on his face made me chuckle – while rolling my eyes in remembrance at seeing that expression on a male cat I once owned.

I also caught his brother doing what can only be described as a morning stretch . . .

Downward Cheetah.

Elephants: Dirt Baths, Q-Tips, and a Tiny Charge

Our biggest wow of the day was encountering the elephant herd again.

I am loving H’s camera — I was able to catch one female mid–dirt bath, with the dust literally suspended in the air . .

. . . and another using her trunk as a Q-tip in her ear, which felt both majestic and deeply relatable.

The excitement came when the little one got curious and decided to charge our vehicle.

Isaac beat on the side of the jeep and shouted, reversing as fast as he could. The photos can’t capture the ruckus – elephants scolding, Isaac hollering, little “beep beep” trumpets from young Mr. “I’m Gunna Kick Yer @ss” trying to trumpet but . . . ”beep . . .”

The little one’s mom finally convinced him back into the fold — and once we were safely away, the whole thing reminded me so much of any young boy testing his limits with his parents.

Wildlife, but also: parenting.

Giraffes, Buttes, and the Language of Group Names

On our way back to the lodge, we caught a giraffe at the base of the butte. Look down in the scrub at the right of the photo – that caramel colored, “tall thing” is Ze Giraffe.

We’d been talking about animal group names, and apparently:

  • A tower of giraffes is what you call them standing still
  • A journey of giraffes is what you call them moving

Isaac also mentioned that giraffes are one of the few animals whose gait moves the front and back legs on the same side together — called pacing — rather than the diagonal pairing of a trot, which is why they have that slow-motion sway.

As Tom from our group put it: the difference between a pacer and a trotter.

(Yes, Safari meets horse-racing trivia.)

Pancakes, Packing, and a Rhino Orphanage Ahead

After breakfast — including very fluffy pancakes — it was time to download photos. This batch is the largest number of “keepers” so far . . . perhaps I’m finally getting used to the camera.

Lunch is at 12:30, and at 1:45 we’re heading to a rhino orphanage. Today was supposed to be a “bush lunch,” but unfortunately it’s supposed to rain – the hope is that it won’t rain out our “boma” dinner outside tonight.

I will try to send a Marco Polo to Mom from the orphanage.

We go straight from the orphanage out to our last jeep safari of this lodge stay.

Tomorrow morning is a walk up on the escarpment.

I should be packing.

But since I’ve decided to skip lunch . . .

I think I will instead take a wee nap.

And honestly?

That also counts as a sighting. I’m sure dream animals count.

Next up: orphan rhinos, and whatever wildlife wanders our way.

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