Written by Nicole te Brake, Reservations & Operations Manager at Lowveld Trails Co., following her experience of the Kalahari Primitive Trail in April 2023.
Parched roots, anchored in the fine dew-dried sand, crunch underfoot as we pass.
Their new shoots, painted pale green by the recent rains, shine up at us reassuringly.
Ahead, young Black and Camel Thorn Trees are scattered across the expanse of muted grassland.
The angle of the sun misleads us, as they still seem to darkly smoulder from last season’s fires.
A persistent pastel blue sky, occasionally dotted and dashed with white, extends widely overhead.
Stark sunlight accompanies the day.
Unaffected, butterflies happily play, and little weavers briskly go about their business.
They spark our curiosity, encouraging us onward.
Dense leaves of a Shepard’s Tree present a reprieve and a pleasure.
With gratitude we wonder and reminisce; we chat and connect; we are still.
Time is no matter. Guilt has no place in the shade, and we welcome our required rest.
Refreshed. Renewed. We go on.
There is more to savour before twilight’s cool relief.
A track. A sign. Perseverance. Patience. A reward.
Appreciation, for the present they are not aware they gave.
The sun begins its descent.
We pass through a sea of silver waves, the tide directed by the gentle breeze.
One of the plain’s royal warriors spy us. Time pauses.
Regal painted face and extended crown held high and still.
In an instant he gracefully turns his ample frame and retreats to safer ground.
Our home-coming for the night is cheerful.
We lower our burdens to the ground; only what we need, nothing more.
Unsurprisingly quite light at the end of the day.
The simple, comforting routines quietly begin as we settle in.
The sun drops quickly now; the golden glow embraces us.
The darkening horizon opposite gently puts the light to rest.
Clean. Warm. Fed. Satisfied. Present.
Encircling the flickering flames.
We chat. We laugh. We listen. We are still.
Each safely cocooned on a patch of precious earth; except for one, whose senses remain alert for the rest.
Sleep beckons my eyes away from the vast masterpiece in which we are suspended.
‘It’ is just beyond comprehension. While simultaneously, in such a moment, quite perfectly clear.
Enraptured, I try to delay the close.
