safarhis

Onks dropped us off at the airstrip and we boarded a light aircraft. Rhiannon, now flying for the fourth time, had asked me in Heathrow if she would be able to see the cockpit. Now, she was practically in the cockpit. She had taken to flying like a lilac-breasted roller.

The flight was great. We made one stop for an American couple who were on their way to Victoria Falls via Kasane Airport.

At Kasane, we were greeted by a taxi driver who held a sheet of paper with the name “Rihan Williams”. He drove us to our third and final camp, the Wildtrack Eco Lodge in Pandamatenga, an hour and a half from the airport. Kasane nestles close to Botswana’s borders with Zimbabwe, Namibia and Zambia and, as we drove from the airport, we passed a long, stationary convey of lorries, waiting to cross into Zambia. Some of them would be there for two weeks whilst their papers were checked.

The road was better than that from Maun but still dotted with potholes. As we drove, we passed elephants, giraffes and zebra.

Access to the camp was along a bumpy, sandy track. We stepped out and waited eagerly for the welcome song but none was forthcoming. Putsa, the receptionist, greeted us and Mavis, the waitress, appeared with our welcome drinks: fizzy cherry, I finished mine and made a start on Rhiannon’s.

“Are there any other guests?” I wanted to know. After our experience in Mogogelo, we were hoping for better company.

I was not anticipating the response from Mavis and Putsa which was to burst into laughter. Yes, Mavis confirmed, there were 14 others. She said that she had given us a separate lunch table but, if we wished, she would arrange for us to sit with the group at dinner time. We thought this was an excellent idea although I did wonder about all the hilarity.

Our room was a considerable step up from the tented camps. It was a sturdy stone building with an interior resembling a hotel room. The bathroom was large with two sinks, a shower encased in stone and a bath that could have accommodated a small hippo.

After unpacking, we hurried to explore the main building. It was extremely spacious with a high, vaulted ceiling that opened onto an attractive garden, pool and fire pit. The lounge was furnished with comfy-looking sofas and armchairs and decorated elaborately with animal skins (faux, we assumed) and African ornaments. No wonder Gareth, our travel agent, had called this his favourite camp.

The sofas and armchairs were occupied by ten or so people, sitting in silence and scrolling on their phones. No one looked up as we walked through to the dining room. Our hearts sunk. Surely lightning could not strike twice.

We sat at a table for two. Behind me was a long, banquet style table, set for 14. Hearing but not seeing the other party move to their table and detecting a few unusual noises, I asked Rhiannon, “Beth sy’n bod?” She explained, “Dydyn nhw ddim yn gallu clywed.” They can’t hear.

The group of 14 included 10 guests who were all deaf. They were accompanied by Rebecca, an interpreter engaged by one of the group as a travelling companion, and Michelle who was married to one of the men. A retired couple, Bob and Libby, had linked up with them at Wildtrack but were heading to Xaoo Camp tomorrow. All were from the USA.

After a late and excellent lunch, it was time for our first game drive. Sian and Tom from Xaoo had stayed here last week and told us that the camp was wonderful but the game was sparse. Recent wild fires had scorched the land, forcing the wildlife to hunt elsewhere for food. In addition, the rainy season meant that there was a lot of water around and so the nearby watering hole was not the magnet for animals that it would otherwise have been.

We headed to the parking area and met the two trackers: Ona, the first female tracker we had encountered, and “DC”, larger than life in his mid 30s with excellent English and a twinkle in his eye. Tom had sent him a message telling him about us.

We climbed into his vehicle. Rebecca sat directly behind DC and periodically stood up to sign to the other passengers. I was sitting in the middle of the middle row next to Michelle. She expressed her hope that we would not be going to the same place as they had spent their morning game drive saying, “I just wanna see a mammal – I’m sick of these dang birds!”

Within minutes of starting, Rhiannon had pointed out to me the wonderfully named go-away bird, so called because of its ‘go away’ call. I sensed that this was precisely what Michelle would have said to the dang bird had she seen it.

On our journey, we chatted with Robert and Libby and told them of our great experience at Xaoo and in the Delta. “I don’t wanna hear this!” objected Michelle as we described all the mammals we had seen.

Rebecca was a real character, providing the link between us and the group. They wanted to know who we were and a few of them became very interested in Rhiannon’s photos.

Rebecca also had a good eye for spotting things. “I see a vulture!” she would shout, standing to sign to the group. Michelle apart, they all seemed so excited to see anything. We quickly became so fond of them that we were desperate for them to see a ‘mammal’, even a relaxed impala would do.

We immediately liked DC. Funny and friendly, he drove without concern for his tyres and went faster in reverse than Onks had in the right direction. We discovered this when, faced with road closures because of the fires and floods, DC drove down a ‘track’ sandwiched between a row of trees and bushes and an electric fence. After travelling for about half a kilometre, he met a dead end so had to reverse all the way back. It was chaos but fun.

Eventually, amidst much laughter, we drove onto open land close to the border with Zimbabwe. There was no fence but it is patrolled regularly and, having seen the armed patrol, we were not going to risk it even if a cheetah had appeared on the boundary line. I kept my eyes ahead and, as if I had willed it to happen, I saw a sandy coloured, four legged mammal loping along in the distance.

“There, 12 o’clock!” I said to cries of “where? Where?” from Michelle and Rebecca. They saw it too, in fact there were four of them. The whole group was in a frenzy of excitement. Could they be lions?

No, unfortunately, they could not. As we neared, Rhiannon identified them correctly as domesticated dogs accompanying their owner who had been shooting guinea fowl. It was the closest we would come to seeing mammals.

DC and Ona parked up on a field of ash. We had our sundowner and, though not as picturesque as the Delta and despite the lack to game, we realised that the company makes a huge difference. We found that we could communicate by simple hand gestures and using the ‘notes’ app on our phones. Some of the group were good at lip reading too. Billy showed me a photo he had taken this morning of a single zebra and another of a giraffe. He looked so happy that I felt guilty for our complaints about the Moremi experience.

Back in the truck and resigned to seeing no mammals, Michelle likened the reds and yellows of the African trees to “Wisconsin in the Fall”. On the track leading to the camp, Rebecca, armed with a flash light, spotted a medium sized cat in a tree. Rhiannon captured in on film and, though Michelle had not seen it herself, she felt slightly happier.

At the lodge, Putsa greeted us with warm hand towels and we met Tracy, the owner, who explained that this evening would be a celebration and that everyone would wear traditional Botswana clothing. Rhiannon was thrilled to discover that Tracy had three dogs: Fergus, Ossie and Bailey. Michelle seemed underwhelmed by these mammals.

Putsa banged a gong for dinner (Michelle: “why are they doing this for deaf people?”) and the staff performed a traditional song and dance session. Rebecca did her best to sign for the group but, as they sang in Setswanan, she could not offer much more than, “they’re just singing a bunch of stuff.”

Rebecca introduced Rhiannon to Brandon. He had a great interest in wildlife, particularly birds and reptiles. He had travelled with two large flash lights, including the one loaned to Rebecca, and four or five thick reference books. Gathered around Rhiannon’s MacBook, there ensued a lengthy debate about the identity of the cat up the tree. The final consensus was that it was a small spotted genet.

Dinner was excellent – fillet steak cooked to order – and, when we went to our room, we were delighted to find it warm. We performed a small dance of excitement and dispensed with our coats, jumpers and hats. Despite the lack of mammals, things were looking up.