ABOUT THE BOOK
Walking Wild, by José Neves, is not your typical safari – no game drives, no cool sundowners and definitely no fences. Instead, it’s 605km of dust, sweat and unforgettable moments as an unlikely group of strangers sets out to walk the entire length of Kruger National Park.
Over six stages and three years, they walked from Crooks’ Corner in the far north to Malelane in the south, averaging 20km a day with heavy backpacks and only the wild for company. Led by two armed guides, they braved blistering heat and violent storms. At night, as hyenas nosed their tents and lionesses strolled right through camp, some slept soundly – others lay wide-eyed, waiting for dawn.
They drank from murky trickles in dry riverbeds, navigated thick riverine bush teeming with hippo, buffalo and crocodiles, and slowly learnt to read the bush – from the smallest antlion to the distant roar of a lion.
Walking Wild captures the magic and the madness of life on foot in one of the world’s most iconic national parks. It’s a story of adventure, camaraderie and deep immersion in the wild – a journey that leaves no one unchanged.
Walking Wild is a testament to resilience, discovery and the deep connection between people and nature. If you’ve ever dreamt of experiencing Kruger beyond the safari vehicle, this book is your ticket to the trail.
EXTRACT
Lunch was meant to be brief because we wanted to press on past the scheduled night stop and reach the hot, sulphury Matiovila spring, where we would find water. We were exhausted by the morning’s events and most of the group, including Arnold, fell asleep. Warren took the opportunity to eat his three-bean salad without taunts from Arnold, who teased him about having to carry the heavy item.
After lunch, another brief stop had us tasting the salty leaves of a broadleaf mustard tree (Salvadora persica), its sprawling pale bluish-grey branches hanging to the ground. The sticks of this evergreen tree are traditionally used as toothbrushes.
My mind was on the hot spring we were headed for and its imagined pleasures. The Matiovila hot spring is one of three spring mire complexes in the Kruger. The sulphuric water originates from deep aquifers that discharge at geological faults, and we were warned it would not be pleasant to drink. We neared the spring on a well-worn animal path. It was hot and windy, and a gang of four buffalo bulls lay on the ground amid the mopane, seeking shelter from the sun and wind. Their comfort engendered envy. We heard the playful and angry trumpet of elephants at the spring and gave them a wide berth.
Warren followed Arnold as we descended into the riverine bush. He was the first to spot a leopard coming towards us from the spring. It took him a moment to react – he was frozen by not knowing whether to alert the group and scare away the leopard or keep silent and give everyone a chance to observe it. I was behind Warren and saw the lean, spotted haunches of the leopard as it turned and disappeared into the trees. Other than the two guides in front, only Jennifer and I were lucky enough to witness the beautiful spotted creature.
I spotted the small hot spring close to a flat, elevated stand of subtly fragrant tamboti trees where we would make camp for the night. It had been an eventful day and a hike of more than 20 kilometres. I was exhausted, probably more from the adrenaline thanks to the wild animal encounters, than from the distance. A number of elephants were in and around the small spring. It would be some time before it was safe for us to collect water, so we headed to the stand of tamboti trees to avoid them.
The sun was going down and I was keen to off load my backpack and make camp, but we did not get far. A procession of elephants on the path we were about to cross was heading to the spring. We retreated. A royal march of trumpeting and foraging bulls, cows and calves swayed down the path, but another parade behind them was also heading to the spring, so we were unable to advance. It was a long wait as we sheltered alongside a fallen tree trunk high enough to lean against.
A young male elephant left the spring, seemingly oblivious to our presence, and approached us. He was close enough to us when he raised his trunk to sniff the air. After a pause, he continued approaching anyway.
The insolence of youth, I thought. We scrambled behind the fallen tree trunk as Arnold and Warren took up defensive positions. Arnold aimed his rifle and shouted at the elephant. It stopped, shook its head in annoyance and retreated.
I was getting over that adrenaline rush when a small elephant, little more than a calf, headed for us. Thankfully, it turned and went back before sensing the human intruders. The sun was setting and we needed water before nightfall. The spring was the only source of water in the area, and we were stuck in the middle of a parade of elephants. No doubt, other animals needed to drink as well.
I like watching the cats in the Kruger but right then, I felt no need. A gap opened on the path to the spring, so we moved swiftly to the flat ground in the stand of tamboti trees to set up camp.
I rested my backpack against a tamboti tree after checking I was not going to set up my tent on a thoroughfare to the spring. Tamboti trees (Spirostachys africana) are semi-deciduous to evergreen, with a straight trunk and a narrow straggly canopy. Notwithstanding the proximity to water, the trees looked unharmed despite the fondness of porcupines for the dark, rectangular bark. They sometimes ring-bark the tree, killing it off. Other than kudu that browse on the leaves of saplings, only porcupines and black rhinos feed on the trees. A poisonous latex is exuded by the bark, which indigenous people use for arrowhead poison, and if the bark is burnt, it has a harsh odour that irritates human eyes and skin. Numerous campers in the South African bush have suffered the after-effects of using tamboti wood to braai. Using the wood to cook meat causes severe stomach cramps with diarrhoea and vomiting. It is better to use the beautiful, fragrant wood for luxury furniture.
I was still deciding where to set up my tent when the elephants left the spring. Everyone grabbed water bottles and bladders, and we hurried to the spring. I put a hand into the muddy water and wondered how much elephant urine had contributed to the warmth. I winced at the thought of cooking and drinking that water as I filled one of my two bladders. I knew the smell would stay in it for days, and I wanted to keep one of the bladders untainted.
As expected, it was not long before another herd descended the path to the spring. We didn’t have all the water we needed, but were forced to hurry away to the other side of the muddy rivulet. We sat on the bank in silence and took photographs as the elephants drank and the calves rolled and submerged themselves in the spring. A couple of elephants milled about the tamboti trees where our backpacks were. Thankfully, nobody had citrus because if detected, the elephants would have ripped the backpack to pieces in search of the tasty fruit.
We sat on the bank and save for the occasional whisper, waited quietly. I was enthralled by the unfettered proximity to Africa’s largest mammal. Herds of elephant arrived as others left. At times, there were more than 20 elephants of all sizes around the spring. Despite the impending darkness, I was not bothered until a departing herd of elephants headed in our direction. Following Arnold’s curt instruction, everyone retreated. I was the last to go and only after I was deservedly scolded for taking a picture, still seated with my feet in the frame, to capture the proximity of the elephants. Their size masks the speed at which they move. I had left myself in danger and any elephant that may have attacked me.
We could get back to the campsite only by taking a detour. The same thing happened again at the fallen tree we had sheltered behind when we arrived. This time a bull elephant trundled in our direction. We scrambled behind the fallen tree trunk as the guides readied their weapons. Arnold shouted at the elephant and once more, the huge creature retreated. I was emotionally and physically drained from standing our ground against elephants. It was a matter of time before our luck ran out and I felt I couldn’t take any more.
We finished setting up the tents as daylight faded. I laid out the small groundsheet I had added to my packing list for this Leg. There was another interval with no elephants at the spring, so we hurried with two collapsible buckets to collect more of the muddy, agitated water.
Back at camp, Arnold used a Sawyer mini water filter to do the arduous filtration work for most of us. Lourens used a different, larger type of filter for himself, Ray and Jennifer. I added purification drops. The water filters removed the sediment and particles but did little for the colour and nothing for the taste. The putrid smell of sulphur was intense. Looking on the bright side, I reasoned the sulphur obscured the taste of the elephant’s waste matter.
I transferred my remaining clean water into the untainted water bladder built into my backpack, and filled the other bladder with filtered water. I cooked instant noodles in the spring water; no salt or spices were necessary.
It would have made matters worse to wash using the sulphuric spring water, so nobody showered. It blew during the night with gusts threatening to lift the tents. Despite the wind, I heard the trumpeting of elephants at the spring, and I prayed that for the rest of the night the footsteps of giants led only into the unquiet darkness of Africa.
Extract provided by Janine Daniels on behalf of Janine Doubled Publicity
