Umkumbe Bush Lodge
What we learned when arriving is that it's a thing for people to move from safari lodge to safari lodge, and with similar names, some people end up at the wrong lodge. It was a bit chaotic as they sorted out who belonged where, but thankfully, we had gotten it right and were in the right place.
We got there in the afternoon, and still tired from the jet lag, we found lounge chairs in the sun by the pool and fell fast asleep. It turns out that waking up at 5 a.m. and going on a two-hour safari and again at 4 p.m. lends itself to lounging during the day, something I rarely do when at home. As we slept, I overheard one of the people working at the lodge stating quite loudly how Americans are lazy. I wanted to yell out that that was a gross generalization, but I was too sleepy to budge. Somehow we did miss an elephant who came up for a drink at the pool, but we were fortunate enough to witness a herd of elephants majestically marching through the field as we lounged.
Our first night there was freezing, and we were so grateful to find hot water bottles warming up our bed. It with fuzzy covers, some people freaked out, thinking that a furry animal had made its way into the bed. We hadn't been informed that there was heat in the cabins, so we braced it out our first night and fell asleep huddling our hot water bottles and listening to the low groans of Hyenas calling to each other. Axel passed out, but a very low meow came from just outside our tent. As there were no domesticated cats on the property due to the Hyenas roaming through, it must have been a wild cat, and that was super cool ... and easier to digest over a roar. I'll tell you what, though, I would absolutely NOT want to run into a Hyena at night ... or ever.
The hot rubber water bottles were a welcome addition to our early morning safari drives, during which someone would wake us up each morning with a "Good Morning" and a knock outside our tent. On our first drive, as the rising sun cast a haze over the Sabie River, we spotted our first sighting: an enormous elephant grazing in the field and a beautiful Saddle-Backed stork wading in the shallow river.
Waking up for the sunrise drives was perhaps the most magical experience, though the sundowners with ostriches and elephants grazing in the fields gave it stiff competition. The star-gazing on our night drives was also enchanting, other than when we got a flat tire and were sent out into the Bush to gather rocks to level the jack - but as I heard Hyena chattering in the very near distance, I grabbed Axel's arm and pulled him back, handing him the torch flashlight and stating that he was far more useful providing light for those making very lame attempts to find rocks. Why they didn't have a level on the truck, or a gun for that matter, was mystifying to me. But I will say, our female guide was a badass, grabbing the jack from the spotter and taking over. For some reason, we weren’t scared. Perhaps it’s because we didn’t really know the danger we may have been in.
The staff at Umkumbe were incredibly helpful and friendly, accommodating my gluten-free requests with care. However, if you are a foodie, you might find the culinary offerings a bit underwhelming. Also, be aware that the WiFi was sporadic, and it worked best during the day from the office. But really, who goes on safari to be glued to a computer?
On one of our early morning drives, our guide excitedly told us there was a kill and so we raced out to check it out. A female older leopard had killed an Impala and as we drove over to the kill we stopped and listened ... the monkeys were chattering and we could hear the Impala making a coughing sound signaling their distress. It seemed that every animal in the near vicinity was on high alert, even the giraffes were facing the direction of the kill. When we got to the leopard and the carcass we were sad to see that she was too old to quickly drag the kill into a tree and immediately the Hyenas came in and stole her kill. We watched as they tore apart the animal and carried it away, leaving only the stomach for the leopard.
One major regret was not requesting different guides each day. Although we enjoyed our guide’s company and expertise, I realized too late that we would have been able to switch and hear the other guides bring unique stories of conservation and personal connections to the flora and fauna. In particluar, Leo has spent months in the bush following a mommy rhino giving birth and nurturing her baby, only to have the both murdered by poachers. When we spotted the baby rhino, it was quiet Leo who raced up to see the baby Rhino. His excitement was infectiious as this quiet man zoomed up singing, "baby rhino, baby rhino ..."
Our guide seemed to have no fear, comfortably off-roading to get up close and personal with the herd of elephants and their baby so that we could watch the baby elephant try it's best to learn how to use its trunk to eat but give up to retreat to suckle from its mama's teat. The drivers were very respectful of one another, and you could hear them over the radio politely requesting to join when an animal was discovered, as well as politely retreat so as not to hog the experience and let others enjoy the view. We also discovered that landowners have strict rules about crossing their boundaries and that guns were known to be used to eliminate that potential.
We loved the tales from the guides and their knowledge of the animals and conservation efforts, like how in Kruger National Park they cut the horns of the Rhinos to make it less appealing to poachers. Malaki told me that they don't do that in Kenya. I think next time, I would prefer to stay at a Game Reserve and have the animals come to us.
Then there was the heart-stopping moment when a baby rhino, all bravado, and curiosity, mock-charged our jeep. Its tiny horn was barely visible, yet its spirit was as mighty as any adult's. We couldn't help but laugh at its endearing display of courage. The excitement in Axel's eyes matched the excitement I felt, a shared moment of wonder that words could never fully capture.
As twilight embraced the savanna during our Sundowners, we witnessed elephants and a large Ostrich walking near us, their presence both humbling and exhilarating. The sky blazed with colors, while the not-too-distant calls of wildlife filled us with awe.
These experiences, etched forever in our hearts, remind me that sometimes the most extraordinary adventures are those we share with the ones we love. In the vastness of the African wilderness, I found not just the soul of a continent but a deeper connection with my son, a gift more precious than any souvenir.
The bush had left us both exhilarated and exhausted. Between the 5 a.m. wake-up calls and long days of safari, naps by the pool were our guilty pleasure. At one point we drifted off to the hum of cicadas, overhearing a guide casually remark, “Americans are lazy.” I nearly sat up to protest, but my body was too heavy with sleep. Instead, I rolled over and dreamed of giraffes and lions.
After four days on Safari, admittedly, we were ready to leave. As much as I enjoyed the opportunity to get up close and personal with the animals, I couldn't help but feel uneasy at the bold approach to getting so close. It felt disruptive and aggressive. At one point, we got stuck as we approached the elephants, and I thought about all the things that could go wrong, Even if they were experienced drivers. I know my boys when they are restless, and I could only imagine how dangerous a young male elephant could be in Must. I couldn't help but imagine what it would have been like to have had our own Masai guide, a keeper of ancient wisdom and a tracker, watching the sunset with us and bringing us closer to the heart of this wild land. I pictured warm smiles greeting me in the Masai Village, the vibrant colors of traditional beadwork, and the ceremonies I would witness, aligning perfectly with my perpetual quest to uncover the soul of every place I visit through its people, over being on a commercialized safari where the main goal was to get as close to the animals as possible. Sometimes, the road not taken is just as important as the one we choose to follow.
Transports in S. Africa
When it was time to leave the lodge, our driver appeared. Tall and handsome with a great accent, and we liked him immediately. The oddly humorous thing about the transport drivers who take you from one location to the other is that they drive cars with very low clearance, and there are very high-speed bumps everywhere. No more than five minutes into the drive, our driver bottomed out on a sandy speed bump. “Spot me,” he said as he got out of the car to investigate. Spot him? Against what? Elephants? Lions? Hyena? And then what if we saw one approaching? I know both Axel and I have heroic tendencies, and we really had no desire to watch our driver get mauled as we sat inside spotting.
He began by telling us a story about helping to dig dams for water in the bush and getting chased by a giraffe, “I had taken a break from shoveling a hole to fill in with water for the animals and was on my cell when I heard someone yell, ‘run!’ I looked up to see a giraffe coming at me. Thankfully I am a runner and so I acted like an Impala and zig zagged myself to safety with the giraffe kicking its long legs at my heels.”
As Axel and I approached the airport's security checkpoint, the stark fluorescent lights and sterile environment felt like a jarring intrusion into the dreamy landscape we had reluctantly left behind. The transition was akin to waking abruptly from a vivid, colorful dream into a world of muted grays. My heart grew heavy with the impending separation from Axel, our shared adventure drawing to a close as I prepared to embark on my next chapter in Cape Town.
The security line moved forward, a monotonous rhythm so at odds with the wild, unpredictable pulse of the African bush. Suddenly, the flow was interrupted. Axel stood before the security officer, a petite woman whose eyes crinkled with a mixture of amusement and exasperation. "Awww man," she said, her voice lilting with gentle reproach, "why you got to try and bring all of your tools and even your knife through security?" Her words hung in the air, a reminder of the world we were re-entering.
Axel's face, still sun-kissed from our safari, broke into a sheepish grin. "Ohhhh, that's where my knife is," he chuckled, his hands already reaching into his bag. As he began to empty his pockets, a small cascade of memories tumbled out - thorns, quills, and small trinkets collected from our journey. Each item seemed to shimmer with the magic of Africa, defying the harsh airport lighting. These weren't mere souvenirs, but talismans imbued with stories and intentions, destined to be incorporated into his art back in the States.
As Axel turned to check his bag, I felt a bittersweet pang. Our paths were diverging, but the threads of our shared adventure would forever intertwine our stories. The dream wasn't over, I realized. It was simply changing shape, ready to unfold in new and unexpected ways as I journeyed on to Cape Town with more adventures to come.
Time can be so magical. It gives you the luxury of looking back and evaluating decisions so painstakingly obsessed over and learning from the outcomes. As I write about my trip to Kruger National Park from the comfort of our home back in Colorado, I still cling to the trip I didn't take and feel the need to go back. What does stand out vividly in my mind are the precious moments shared with Axel. I can still see the majestic herd of elephants, their giant forms silhouetted against the golden African sunset, as they ambled gracefully across the field before our safari lodge, Axel and I sitting in awe as nature's gentle giants passed by, their little ones running to keep up, ears flapping.
