Winter Safaris: the joy of the dry season.
As we head out on our early morning drive the cold really begins to bite. No worries though, as we’re prepared with padded jackets and scarves, and the lure of a hot cup of coffee in a few hours time keeps us going. The sun is just breaking the horizon to the east, in an explosion of pinks and oranges, and a thick mist hangs in the valleys and depressions, catching the light and emitting a faint pinkish glow. Everyone is quiet and I think that the cold air deters unnecessary small talk, leaving us all free to pursue our own particular trains of thought. Suddenly a deep grunting sound reaches my ears and I quickly stop the vehicle and switch off the engine. The leopard’s cough carries far and wide in the cool air and I can just picture him as he calls, perhaps standing on a raised termite mound, belly contracting strongly and the condensed breath of each grunt catching the first ray of the sun.
As we head out on our early morning drive the cold really begins to bite. No worries though, as we’re prepared with padded jackets and scarves, and the lure of a hot cup of coffee in a few hours time keeps us going. The sun is just breaking the horizon to the east, in an explosion of pinks and oranges, and a thick mist hangs in the valleys and depressions, catching the light and emitting a faint pinkish glow. Everyone is quiet and I think that the cold air deters unnecessary small talk, leaving us all free to pursue our own particular trains of thought. Suddenly a deep grunting sound reaches my ears and I quickly stop the vehicle and switch off the engine. The leopard’s cough carries far and wide in the cool air and I can just picture him as he calls, perhaps standing on a raised termite mound, belly contracting strongly and the condensed breath of each grunt catching the first ray of the sun.
Behind me the wide eyes of the guests are about all that can be seen among the heavy clothing, and I tell them that the goose-bump-inducing sound is a male leopard’s territorial roar, and we’re going to go and find him...
Ask me about my favourite time of year in the bush, or the savannah of South Africa’s north-east, and I’ll easily decide. I love autumn and winter, with all the pastel colours and hues, the cool mornings and evenings, the gloriously warm and dry days, being out in the bush as the sun rises. The humidity drops markedly in the winter, so even though it can get quite hot it’s nothing like the energy-sapping days of summer. Mornings and evenings can be cool, but some wise packing will ensure that you’re adequately prepared. Mammal viewing peaks during the dry months, and even though there aren’t as many birds around as during the height of summer there’s still enough in the way of resident species to keep the birders occupied. Of course coming on a winter safari means missing out on some of the Northern Hemisphere summer, but hey, it’s only a couple of weeks and from what I hear, a winter in South Africa is better than a summer in the UK! Anyway, jokes aside, a winter safari comes highly recommended and offers low-season price advantages too. So, with winter in South Africa on the way, give some thought to a out-of-season bush experience – just don’t forget to pack some warm clothes though!
