Saturday 16 January 2010

On Safari




In the heart of the Kruger Park, on the banks of the Sabie River, lies a boutique Safari Camp called Tinga. Its gracious owner Anthony Marx looks the real McKoy dressed in his bush suit next to red faced Night Rider. The camp is laid out as a number of luxurious but tasteful huts reached by a wooden walkway from central facilities; they are constructed from local materials and blend in well to the bush surrounding them with each having a viewing deck looking own towards the Sabie River.

Our first encounter with nature was nearly the Blonde's last. Having spotted a young bull elephant making his way up from the Sabie, towards our hut, she decided to jump over the low electric fence and venture out into the bush to get a closer shot of it ( with her camera of course ). Being cowardly by nature, I quickly dismissed the idea of rescuing her myself in favour of calling for one of the game rangers. One eventually appeared and was able to persuade the blonde to clamber back over the right side of the wire.

Later the same ranger took us on a day's tracking where we came close up to a group of hippos bathing and the Sabie River, a white rhino relaxing in the bush and a large cheetah eating its kill in a tree. Only one of the big five that failed to appear on cue, were the lions, but nevertheless an impressive round up.

However the other guests were a strange bunch; in particular, the blonde and I were lumbered with a friendly but very elderly couple from Johannesburg and a couple of Jehovah's Witnesses from Houston, Texas. The latter were very heavy going and its a mistake of the camp to make people on the same game drives also have to dine together in the evening. Enough is enough and i would have appreciated to get the opportunity to chose my company.



The food too was on the whole very disappointing; rather than trot out simple South African cooking the chef clearly wanted to show that he ( or she ) had been to a chi-chi cooking school. For instance, a delicious rack of Karoo one dinner was ruined by what was called a "mint and balsamic reduction", that in its effort to be sophisticated, merely rendered the meat cloying and tasting like it had been marinated in cough medicine.

Tinga has great potential and is real luxury in a stunning bush and river setting. however, lack of hands-on management seems to pervade the whole place and Anthony Marx was only evident one evening for cocktails. He told me that he is in the process of changing the management company; good luck with that Anthony and i may return to see if its made the difference between enjoyable and sublime !

Sunday 10 January 2010

Virgin Soldiers

Night Rider and the Blonde decided to head towards warmer climes for the New Year - namely to RSA, the Republic of South Africa. With some trepidation heading to Heathrow to catch the Virgin 6pm flight to Jo'burg on December 17th; heavy snow was forcaste for that evening. Judging by all the traffic on the M4 motorway out of London, it looked like everyone was leaving the City to a few visiting Americans and the hordes of asylum seekers to their own delights during the so-called "festive period" ( political correctness prevents NR as referring to this time of year as "Christmas" )

Sure enough, not long after getting in the Upper Class cabin, the promised snow started falling in generous quantities. However, a saviour was at hand. Sir Richard Branson himself, complete with at least three generations of his Upper Class family climbed aboard and enschonced themselves a few seats away. Sir R seemed to be in a great mood and no doubt, it was his influence that finally got us airborne by 7.30 pm. He is clearly one of the world's cleverest businessmen and so inspirational, that his Virgin staff work for a fraction of their bad tempered British Airways colleagues and always, have a smile and kind word for you.

Sir R had his ancient parents with him; but Dad who must be at least 90 in the shade, still looks like a fit old root and i can only wonder at the admiration he must have for his clever son. In deference to the ancients, Sir R announced shortly after take off that the oldest 15 or so punters travelling cattle class as the back of the plane, would be invited to join us in the Upper Class section. There then followed a procession of what must have at first sight, appeared to be the central committee of the Conservative Party, complete with shawls and sticks, stumbling into our midst and momentarily disturbing the flow of bubbly to the Blonde's glass.

Some sort of mediocre dinner followed and while the Blonde cackled through a showing of Bruno, I managed to get some zeds before the lights were turned up again before our landing at Jo'burg. There we were scheduled to catch a South African Airways "Air Link" flight to the Kruger Park. No one had told me that Airlink had suffered three serious accidents in the last three months and was in danger of having all its flights suspended until its safety record was put right. However, after seeing the crew and a few local maintenance staff fiddling with our first alloted plane, while we sat in a steaming hot bus next to it on the runway, I can understand why.

We finally made it onto one of their planes some 7 hours later; I could not help thinking that i could have driven to the Kruger in half the time and made a note to be not so lazy next time. I wonder what Sir R would have thought of "Air Link" - probably have shed a few crocodile tears.