I'll be back

Sunday 21st September

OR Tambo Airport, Johannesburg

There's nothing quite so painstaking as a day spent counting down the hours to a flight, so we were determined to make the most of our last day here.

We began by visiting Hartebeespoort Dam,a beautiful construction which creates a lake with banks reminiscent of northern Italy.

To drive over the top of the dam (an interesting experience in itself), we had to wait in what felt like the world's longest traffic jam, caused by the fact that traffic can only cross the dam in one direction at a time.  This time was not wasted, however, as watching the street vendors walking between cards trying to sell everything from Despicable Me backpacks to wrought iron bird cages was entertainment enough.  One technique they were employing to get people to open their cars and talk to them was to pretend they had spotted a soft tyre and point at it in horror.  The amusing thing was watching people fall for this again and again, then ending up agreeing to purchase an etch-a-sketch or a wineglass made from a beer bottle.

The view from the dam was as spectacular as any we've seen here, but once at the other side there was little of interest so we about-turned and joined the queue to go back the other way.

Wisdom at Hartebeespoort Market

In the village of Hartebeespoort itself, there were huge markets on either side of the road with live music and lively bars - a suitable South African end to proceedings.  Once again, the friendliness of the people here shone through and this made for a very enjoyable afternoon.

From here, we went on to Pretoria, most of which was being dug up for what looked like some kind of tram project.  Experience in Edinburgh told me it was best not to ask...

We passed the courthouse which has never been off TV screens since we got here, where Oscar Pistorious was on trial.  Beyond that, there wasn't much to see - being a Sunday afternoon most places were closed.  Leaving the city, we were pulled over by a police patrol, but she seemed confused by the overseas driving license so waved us on rather than having to think about it.

Before long, we found ourselves here, back where it all began three weeks ago.  Returning home from a holiday is never fun, but leaving here is particularly hard.  There's something that just feels 'right' about being here, feeling more like home than somewhere visited for a break.

We've driven over 4,400km through 2 countries, 5 provinces and countless diverse cultures, yet have barely scratched the surface of this fascinating land.

I guess this all builds up to just three words... I'll be back!

Fifteen minutes of fame

Saturday 20th September

Woodridge Palms, Near Rustenburg

Valley of the Waves, Sun City

When entrepreneur Sol Kerzner started building Sun City in the 1970s it was located in Bophuthatswana, a politically self-governing area during the apartheid regime.  The great attraction of "the Bop" was that, being semi-independent from South Africa, it was the only place where gambling was legal as well as being somewhere not subject to apartheid boycotts, meaning western pop stars were happy to perform there.

Kerzner built a huge complex of casinos and concert venues, and together with the discovery of platinum, made the area very wealthy.

Since then, gambling has become legal elsewhere, apartheid has ended and Bophuthatswana has become part of South Africa's North West Province, leaving Sun City with a bit of an identity crisis.

That was what we discovered there today.  All but one of the casinos has been replaced by timeshares, golf courses and a variety of leisure attractions, the most impressive of which is the 'Valley of the Waves' - an artificial beach with 2m high breaker waves built in what is predominantly a desert.

While it made for an incredibly fun day out, there was a striking disconnect between the excess of Sun City and the poverty that surrounds it, and between the drought engulfing the province and the quantity of water being pumped into the folly of a beach in the desert.

More odd was the reception we received there.  On arrival at Sun City, visitors have to take a monorail to the complex.  While waiting, a man came up and asked to have his photo taken with me, and then with our whole family.  Pretty soon, a whole group (who turned out to be a group of social workers on a day out) had formed a queue to shake our hands and have their photos taken with us.

All in all, it took around 15 minutes to pose with each of them, leaving us wondering if it was because we were so milk-bottle white, if it was a bet or if they had mistaken us for someone else.

Whatever the case, it feels like that's my fifteen minutes of fame used up.

The morning after the vote before

Friday 19th September

Woodridge Palms, Near Rustenburg

We awoke to the news that Scotland had voted no to independence, by a margin of 10 percentage points.  I must admit to being relieved, though I remain pleased at the way the referendum has engaged so many people in the political process, with turnout at 85%.

The reaction of people here seems to be positive, with South African politicians remarking on the peaceful, democratic way the whole thing was conducted.  Some have seized the opportunity of Scotland's vote to remain in a union to suggest that the people of Lesotho should be offered a referendum on forming a union with South Africa.  Given the failed coup there just two weeks ago, there does seem an element of opportunism (and a sense of inevitability) to this.

We have now left the mountains and travelled west, through Pretoria to a farm holding called Woodridge Palms, about 40km west of Rustenburg.

It's a rather quirky property set in quirkier grounds with an owner who is quirkier still.  Stepping outside, one is surrounded by free-roaming rabbits, peacocks, cats, doges and even an emu and the whole place has an artificial river running through it, crossed by a Victorian-style iron bridge.  Port Merion eat your heart out.

Not expecting to see much wildlife in this area, it was a pleasant surprise to pass springbok, waterbuck, impala and zebra on the road.  The only thing we haven't seen much of is people - once again, we have arrived in the middle of nowhere.

In search of gold

Thursday 18th September

Sudwala Lodge, Mpumalanga

Post Office, Pilgrim's Rest

The irony was not lost that on the day of the referendum we should find ourselves in an old gold mining town founded by Scots trying to make themselves more prosperous.

Pilgrim's Rest was founded by a Scotsman who struck gold in the area in the late 1800s and it has been preserved as a heritage village by the government since 1984.  In fact, the whole area is known as "Mac Mac" after the succession of Scots who arrived here believing they would be better off here than in the UK.  Some were successful, others not.

It saddens me that so much of the debate around the referendum - on both sides - has been about how much money will be in our pockets.  There have been few arguments of substance or even ideology, and staking the future of our nation (either way) on the hope of striking gold seems as bizarre as the hopes of these prospectors of old.

Village Store, Pilgrim's Rest

As I write, polls will have closed and Scotland's fate lies ready to be counted.  There has been a reasonable amount of media interest here, so hopefully we should be able to find out the result tomorrow.

My personal hope is that Scotland will take this opportunity to affirm its place within the United Kingdom, but that the vision for a fairer society and huge political revival generated by the 'yes' campaign can be harnessed and used to work for social justice across the whole of our islands.

While South Africa bears the scars of its British colonial past, its modern form also stands as testament to what can be achieved when diverse people with different values and different political ideals can unite and work together.

Whatever the result of today's poll, it will leave me no less Scottish and no less British... and no more likely to strike gold either.

Nature's masterpiece

Wednesday 17th September

Sudwala Lodge, Mpumalanga

A kiss from Caspar

Receiving a kiss from an African elephant is even less pleasant than it sounds.

It was early morning and we were in an elephant sanctuary in Hazyview.  Working with two bull elephants, Kito and Caspar, we began the morning by brushing them down.  This was not for keeping them clean - they are more than capable of that themselves - but is rather a chance to check for any tics or signs of infection.

Caspar was just a calf when his entire herd was culled as part of plans to reduce the overpopulated elephant community in the Kruger Park twenty-five years ago.  As a baby, he was spared and was instead sold to a private keeper in Namibia, who also had three other elephants.  As they all grew, though, they began destroying the trees on a local banana plantation, and the farmer shot the three other elephants.  Their owner contacted the sanctuary to re-home Caspar in a safe environment.

Brushing Kito (left) and Caspar

Kito's story is similar, beginning life in the wild, going to a private owner in Mozambique before ending up in the sanctuary.

The keepers in the sanctuary have had to work hard to win the trust of these elephants, as they still remember humans as being the ones bringing such terror to their families.  Elephants, as they say, never forget.  One keeper summed up their past rather well: "where there's man and there's money, things go bad."

After brushing them down, we had a chance to get to know each elephant, examining their trunk, ears, feet and toenails, stomach, knees, tail, tusks and mouth.  (This included feeling their tongues, a feeling not dis-similar to a Noel Edmunds gunge tank.)  Then came our reward from the elephant - the dreaded kiss.

Caspar used his trunk to firmly plant a very warm, moist, sticky smacker on my neck and face - an experience I hope never to repeat.

We then led them hand-in-trunk to be fed.  All the time spent interacting with these giants, it was striking how socially responsive they are, talking the whole time and leaving us in no doubt as to what they enjoyed or didn't enjoy.  John Donne was right when he described elephants as "nature's masterpiece".

Walking Kito

It also got me thinking back to a conversation with Jacob a few days ago in the Kruger Park. The park is big enough to provide sustainable habitat for around 9000 elephants.  At the time Caspar was orphaned, there was a cull because numbers had reached 13,000.

With no culls having taken place in recent years, there are now over 21,000 elephants in the Kruger Park, and with such competition for food, they have started pushing over trees to get to the higher branches, damaging the habitat and endangering the survival of other species.

Attempts to increase the size of land available to them by opening the border with Mozambique in the Greater Limpopo Transfrontier Park have failed, as this has afforded easy passage for rhino poachers.  Translocating entire herds to other parts of Africa has proved too expensive, time inefficient and stressful to the animals.

Caspar

All of this leaves the conservationists with a conundrum: allow the elephant population to continue to rise and risk endangering other species or recommence the culling of these beautiful and socially aware animals.

It really is an impossible problem to solve, and a decision I'm glad I'm not responsible for, but after bonding with some of them so closely, it's hard to contemplate any harm being done to these fascinating animals.

For the beauty of the earth

Tuesday 16th September

Sudwala Lodge, Mpumalanga

Waterfalls, Crocodile River, Nelspruit

Today was one of the hottest yet, so the coolness of the rainforest within Nelspruit's Botanical Gardens was gladly appreciated.  Planted with trees from rainforest areas across Africa, this was home to some of the most extravagantly coloured butterflies I've ever seen.

As well as the rainforest, the botanical gardens were spectacularly planted with all manner of plants and trees, including baobabs.  (Fact of the day: cream of tartar is made from the fruit of the baobab tree.  You learn something new every day.)

Reading the information provided, it was astonishing how many of the trees have medicinal uses, either in traditional remedies or in pharmaceuticals - what a bounty the earth supplies!  (Although, there were an equal number with the ability to sting, poison or blind!)

Cascading waterfalls on the Crocodile River that runs through the gardens ended in a pool filled with plastic bottles and aluminium cans - the shape of the rocks forms a natural filter which removes all the rubbish thrown into the river upstream.  During the dry season, teams of volunteers empty this out, ready for it to start its work all over again the next year.

The beauty and bounty of the earth contrasted with the destructive wastefulness of humankind - when will we ever learn?

The hills are alive...

Monday 15th September

Sudwala Lodge, Mpumalanga

Mac Mac Pools

Coming from Scotland, I'm no stranger to a mountain or two, but the size and extent of those we drove over today fair puts the Cairngorms in their place.

We headed north, past Sabie, and stopped first for a paddle at Mac Mac Pools, natural pools formed from millions of years of water erosion, then at Mac Mac Falls, one of the largest, most impressive waterfalls I've ever seen.  (The photograph does not do it justice!)

This is gold-panning territory, and the name "Mac Mac" is in honour of all the Scottish "MacSomethings" who lost their lives here trying to get rich in the South African gold rush.

Mac Mac Falls

From there, it was on to Graskop to sample the famous "Harrie's Pancakes", and while at first I was sceptical, I must admit to struggling to think of a more enjoyable crepe.

North of there, around the "Panoramic Route", we stopped at "God's Window", a view so dizzyingly high one could be looking down from heaven.

Then, on to Bourke's Luck Potholes: swirling pools of water cut into the rocks by waterfalls where lucky old Bourke dipped his bucket into the pools and pulled it out filled with gold.  There was no gold to be found, and scarcely much water either wing to the exceptionally dry spell being experienced here at present.

Bourke's Luck Potholes

Equally as captivating as the potholes themselves was the troupe of baboons occupying the car parking area, with the alpha male nonchalantly sitting at a picnic bench as though waiting on table service.  (I won't mention how he was keeping himself amused whilst waiting; suffice to say he was one happy baboon!)

Our final stop was at the "Three Rondavels" - a viewpoint overlooking three hills which resemble African rondavel huts.  Formed from red volcanic rock, they had a lime green lichen growing on them which made for an immense splash of colour.

Just as impressive was the opal blue lake which lay below - I had to remind myself that the drop was a few thousand feet to resist the urge to jump in.

It would have been great to explore more of this postcard-picturesque part of the country, but we ran out of daylight, as it very suddenly gets dark at 6pm sharp.

Three Rondavels

While the drive home in the dark was less scenic, it was no less adventurous, as many of the locals seem not to have rear lights, so one was literally never sure what lay round the next corner.


God's Window



The happy baboon