Yay! Today is arrival day in the Kgalagadi! We’re both so exited (Bullet, not so much, knowing the conditions of the roads that lie in wait for us)!
Mom is sitting in the Blue Bullet at 06h08, while I am still frantically trying to collect cell phones and padkos, load the cooler boxes and trying to get dressed! At 06h09 we start the journey and promptly slow down to a crawl as the road is littered with little carcasses of bat eared and cape foxes and the odd spring hare or two. There are road signs everywhere warning about the cape and bat eared foxes and to please not drive over them, which sadly, nobody paid attention to, as the road surface looked like a graveyard.
A long drive for the last 230km, and a short stop where I dashed across the highway in my pyjamas and winter slippers (well, something had to be sacrificed if we were to get on the road in time) to take an awesome shot of a spider web. The spider was not in at the time, possibly busy getting his slice of fox at the closest highway butcher.
Finally we reached the Kgalagadi reception at a crawl, only to be told that our chalet would only be ready at 14h00, possibly 13h00 if we’re lucky. Bullet of course sighed to the point that I could hear the transmission fluid gurgle, and, loaded down with the 500kgs of padkos and other sundry food items, and the 500kgs of clothes and shoes, we decide to go for a game drive at 10am. Not 3cm into our drive, I nearly take off the tail end of a Koper Kapel! (the Afrikaans name sounds so much more impressive than the English, Cape Cobra).
Wow, did we upset that poor snake. It was hissing and swaying with neck stretched to capacity, I was hanging out the window, anchoring myself inside with my knees only, when my mom mentions casually that they spit venom, which of course had me back in the car, with window closed in 3 seconds flat. But out again, moments later, hanging on to the brake pedal with my little toe, and taking about 300 photos, and I could swear I heard my Mom mumble something about “if only I had a flute”.
The calm after the snake, I thought it might be a good plan to mention to Ms Pied Piper that when I am half body out of the window, that she must perhaps just put Bullet in “park” and pull up the handbrake, or, another equally easy way to determine when to do that is when Blue Bullet starts driving off the road, while I am outside! Big mistake! The next stop, I barely had the camera lens out the window, full body still inside, when Blue Bullet goes into “park”, the handbrake squeaks and Mom sits with a big grin on her face! We worked a compromise of sorts, and on we went.
No cheetahs, no lions, but the cutest mouse, and some Eland which I last saw in Etosha years ago! At 13h00, we clock in again at reception, get our chalet key, and find it’s not ready. Now not to bore you with the whole story, my Mom eventually offered to help the cleaning lady with the floor washing, and we had all our goodies stacked in front of the door, and still the cleaning lady did not get the hint, and was washing and drying every item in the cutlery rack.
This is where we lost the time plot. The gates close at 6pm, and we went out at 3pm. We stumbled across some awesome Pygmy Falcons, one after the other, leaving us 30 minutes to get back to the gate. And can my Mom panic! As we where flying through dunes, over corrugated bumps so large that Mom reckoned we should have projected for more petrol money, as the up and down hill over one corrugated bump is so far that it takes double the amount of petrol. With the sun setting on the right, and two striped mice running for cover, Mom’s face started getting whiter and whiter, I was hanging on for dear life, wind whipping through my hair, praying that we would not see lions right now, and if we did, that I could snap off some shots, control Mom and Bullet, and not roll the car at the same time! We made the gate with five minutes to spare!
Guess who was waiting for us at home? Remember Damien? The blind, fire spitting, hissing, echolocation missing bat that drove me to drink on the previous trip? Well, not him. His cousin, Vesuvius! Mom named him. But then she forgot what mountain she used, and now he is called Vernon!
Vernon snuck in last night while I was aimlessly pushing some coals around outside, and surprised Mom when she went to bed! He is just as charming as Damien, also can’t fly straight, or use echolocation, and again, we forgot the tennis racquets at home!
