The sign as we drove into Ithala Game Reserve was red and bold: “Attention. You may come across elephants. Do not approach closer than 30m.” The land surrounding us was dried red with drought; flat grasslands stretched to either side.
We had arrived at the main gate, to the east of the park, at sunset. A herd of wildebeest crossed the road as we drove the 17km to the Doornkraal campsite, unfenced despite roaming elephant and rhino, on Ithala’s west border. Tsessebe grazed on the roadside, and a family of warthog ran off as our car approached, their tails up like radio antennae .
With two days to spare between gazing at the hippo in Lake St Lucia, to the south, and gazing at the Big Five in the Kruger National Park, to the north, we had come to Ithala on a whim and a recommendation.
My aunt had been to the reserve twice - only to have a rhino charge her vehicle, with her in it, both times. A British friend had come to Ithala on honeymoon a few years ago. She recommended it enthusiastically via email, even the bit when a rhino had decided to charge her vehicle, also while she was in it.
The prospect of elephant was far more appealing. So after a cold night camping on the banks of yet another drought-dried river, we awoke at 6am and headed out into the 30 000 hectare park, seeking elephant.
It is perfect elephant and rhino country
The Ithala Game Reserve is about 60km east of Vryheid at the very north of KwaZulu-Natal. Closer is the smaller town of Louwsburg, which you drive through to the reserve’s gates. Ithala is known for its giraffe and rhino charges! It is home to one of southern Africa’s largest giraffe populations as well as the rare and endangered tsessebe antelope, blackbacked jackal, greater bushbaby, honeybadger, brown hyena and martial eagle.
The Phongolo River forms Ithala’s border in the north, and the Mbizo, Dakaneni and Mhulumbela rivers run through it. About a quarter of the reserve is open bushveld - lowveld and tall grassveld.
There are over 20 species of indigenous fish, over 80 species of mammal, 320 bird species and 100 different types of amphibians and reptiles.
Looking out over the reserve, you see folds of hill dried gold and red with heat. Temperatures in this part of the world reach upwards of 30�C every day; the trees are stunted from the heat, and the grasslands stretch into blue skies unbroken by cloud.
A dirt road winds around the hills and over the red beds that were once rivers. It is perfect elephant and rhino country.
We were hoping for the elephant. We saw a herd of giraffe, their long necks allowing them to reach the very top of the greening branches, on the side of the road a few kilometres into our exploration the next day. We later saw a young giraffe on its lonesome; it barely towered above the spring saplings. Tsessebe grazed nonchalantly nearby.
There were no elephant in sight. Recharged with coffee from the Ntshodwe Camp (which caters for foreign tourists and the rich - and is fenced against the roaming elephant and rhino), we headed back out for some serious game-spotting, following the Dakaneni Loop and the mighty Phongolo River.
‘Drive! Just drive!’
The hills rolled out from the dirt road, dense foliage of broken tree branches. At the start of the Dakaneni Route there was a warning of elephant on the side of the road. A sign set in concrete into a rock further down showed an elephant silhouette with a bright red exclamation mark through it. Our prospects were looking good.
At the picnic area at the Phongolo River, the northern-most border of the park, another warning set in rock showed the silhouettes of elephant, rhino, big cat, wild dog and water buffalo. Walking over a foot bridge to the river’s banks, another warning showed crocodile and buffalo. The Phongolo River ran strong despite the drought, grey water reflecting the dark green of its banks. There were no buffalo, no crocodile, no elephants, no anything. Ithala was looking rather tame.
Back at Doornkraal we overslept our afternoon siesta and woke up to discover that there was no running water at the camp. It was 5pm. If we wanted drinking water we had to make it to the Ntshodwe Camp shop and back again, a 60km round trip on dirt roads, before the sun set at 6.
There was flat panic. Driving through a game reserve in pitch black night was not on my wish list, but neither was running out of drinking water. We set out in hope, pushing the maximum speed limit of 40km/h up the slope of roads we barely saw for speed. Up a non-descript hill and round a corner and there was a massive hulk of darkness on the right-hand side, right by my open window. It was so close I could have leaned out and kissed it.
I slowed down in surprise. A grey face turned a massive horn towards me, our eyes met.
The small brown eyes looked startled; then angry. Intensely angry. My mind registered little but the mass in front of me, paralysed like the next victim in a bad horror movie. It belatedly registered that this was not a good situation to be in. Not a very good situation at all.
“Drive! Just drive!” breached my fascination. I heard the mass stomp its front feet on the ground with a smart of fury. Fury directed at me. My partner, in the passenger seat and staring at the sudden darkness in terror, pulled at the steering wheel frantically as I put my foot down, heedless of gear, and pulled off with one angry rhino charging after us.
I am unsure when we lost him, or even when I registered it was a rhino we had disturbed in the growing darkness. We rounded another corner and then another at full speed. Life is full of small mercies. At some stage the rhino gave up the chase.
My aunt would later ask me, rather enthusiastically, if it was a black rhino, the black being more aggressive than the white.
In retrospect, it was too close to tell. It was far too close for either of us to care.
Later, on the way back to our campsite, we picked up a rare sighting in our headlights: A blackbacked jackal, looking up from the long yellow grass just off the side of the road.
That night, long after everyone in the camp had gone to bed and the lights were out, a lone giraffe wandered into the camp to graze the trees on the river’s edge. It was deathly quiet. The night was set clear against the stars, and the giraffe reflected silver from the moon. It stood two metres away from our tent door, its lanky neck towering over our (suddenly very small) abode to the branches above.
We left Ithala the next day, still not having seen an elephant.
Ithala Game Reserve: Entrance: R40 per person. Camping is R45 per person per night. Email them at webmail@kznwildlife.com, telephone 033-845-1000, the Ezemvelo KZN Wildlife reservations desk.
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