Why Sabie Park and Kruger Game Park South Africa Have A Way Of Conquering Your Heart!

David and Christine Serfontein of Hetnet (erf 292 in Appelblaar Avenue), former Randburg neighbours of ours in the ‘70’s, were, like us, immediately captivated. They went on a journey of discovery with David’s brother, Schalk. At the picnic spot they placed a steak on the coals. Satiated, David enjoyed an after-lunch nap on the lawn. When he awoke, he only saw elephants. A huge herd had come to the river to drink. He could not place his signature on a purchase deed quickly enough.

One discovery led to another. Even at that first visit, our eyes opened; we began to look at the Kruger Park differently. We realised that nature was endowed with far, far richer treasures than merely the daily observation of big game. It was an enriching insight. We immediately procured a bird book. And then, a tree book. Then one on snakes. It did not take long before the bush was in our blood.

In the log book of the Visagies we discovered the names of other people from Bloemfontein who owned properties in Sabie Park, i. a. Ronnie and Elma Schoombie, then co-owners of erf 267, off Wildevy Avenue. That house was known as Meiringspoort, for obvious reasons. It was designed by the architect Hannes Meiring. Hannes built this flat-roofed bush villa in Sardinian style for him and his journalist wife, Martie, as she so aptly put it, “as a home of rest and dreams and enjoyment”. Ronnie and Elma offered us their “dreamhouse” as our next night stopover, and we gladly accepted.

In July 1991 we travelled with old friends, Manie and Sannie Steyn of the West Rand (plus two teams of children), slowly down Apiesdoring, right into Wildevy Avenue, as was explained to us, and turned in at the first winding path through the trees towards the river. O, dear!

The moment we caught a glimpse of the Meiring-Schoombie-villa through the branches, we also detected people on the flat cement roof. Our worst fears were realised. Someone was staying there. It appeared that Hannes had completely forgotten about the arrangements made by Ronnie. He had “lent” his house to his young niece, her friend and two overseas visitors. These four people had already been there for a few nights and were thoroughly at home. We were intruders – that was clear.

What were we to do? The Van Deventers and Steyns held council; the other guests too. Tension filled the air. Eventually the considerateness of the Meiring team won the day. “We’ve already been here for two nights, take the place for tonight,” they offered magnanimously. Fortunately, we could find alternative accommodation for them.

That evening the Van Deventers and the Steyns had a riproaring party around the campfire. A magnum bottle of good red wine quickly disappeared. Our fire crackled sociably, a mere 250 metres from Ukuthula (Tsonga word for Inner Peace), which a few years later became Tarlehoet of the Van Deventers – but who could have guessed it then…

The next morning we risked the hiker’s trail – a first experience of an unarmed excursion into the untamed bush. The list of rules and warnings at the starting point made one gasp for breath. It is dangerous to walk, we read – “because confrontations with elephant, lion, leopard, snakes, etc. cannot be ruled out. Don’t stray from the trail.” When I saw the first hippo spoor, cast in cement to indicate the trail, a feeling of uneasiness overwhelmed me. Manie was quite adamant: it’s too dangerous. “We are going back,” the two concerned (scared?) dads announced, and led their families to safety. Today, after dozens of walks along that path, I feel a bit embarrassed to admit to that first abortive effort.

Not that “uneasiness” concerning potential danger is unique

Among Sabieparkers are veterans who will not risk placing a foot on the hiker’s trail. My brother-in-law, Fanie van Wyk, formerly of Harrismith but who has recently retired in Brackenfell in the Cape, will hopefully not blame me if I reveal that he held a stone in his hand – wet with perspiration – and that he followed at a safe distance behind the leaders, mumbling all the time. If the poor fellow could only know that I had earlier that day spotted an elephant close to the bridge across the Sabie River, near the end of the trail. I really cheated him and my sister-in-law, Maretha, when I invited them for a walk at that particular moment. I’m sure he would have attacked me with his stone, if he knew the whole story! But to come so close to an elephant in the wild has its fascination, though. Later on even Fanie could manfully record in the guest book: “With my only weapon a stone, I approached the elephant – alone.”