Africa's Eden

I’ve loved the Kalahari since the first time I went to Botswana as a boy. It is a place of boundless space and endless skies which explode at dusk into almost unimaginable splendour. Of all the places I have been in the world from the Arctic Circle to Cape Point, the Kalahari has the strongest hold on my heart. It is the southernmost desert in Africa, covering most of Botswana and stretching in the east into South Africa and in the west into Namibia.

In fact, it is not a true desert. Most of it is a sandy plain, sparsely grassed, dotted with thorn trees and criss-crossed by dried watercourses, which look from the air like old scars.

But in the north of Botswana the Kalahari looks more like an Eden; this is the famous Okavango Delta, where a river that rises in Angola spreads out into the sands, creating a vast network of clear waterways and islands dotted with wild date and fan palms, the habitat of enormous herds of buffalo, thousands of elephants, lions and hippo, crocodile and the red lechwe, an antelope adapted to these watery conditions.

It is one of the most magical places in Africa. In the middle of the Kalahari is an enormous salt flat, the Makgadikadi Pan, a desolate and magnificent place and the virtually untravelled Central Kalahari Reserve. In the dry south is the vast new Transfrontier Park, the Kgalagadi, (meaning “great thirst�), straddling the borders between South Africa and Botswana.

For all my love of the Kalahari, I had never been to the south and the Kgalagadi. It was time to go. I set off by plane from Johannesburg, landing in Upington in the Northern Cape, a town sustained entirely by the Orange River, which flows strongly through the dry lands all the way across South Africa from the Drakensberg mountains, the eastern escarpment.

From there I took a hired 4x4 to Kgalagadi. If you were approaching from Cape Town you could fly or drive. The drive from Cape Town is about 11 hours but easily and comfortably broken at a network of bed and breakfasts and small hotels.

The Kgalagadi Transfrontier Park was created 10 years ago by the joining of two parks, one in Botswana and one in South Africa, to form an almost limitless wilderness of 3.5 million hectares, by far the biggest in Southern Africa. It is a dry region of sparse vegetation and red sand dunes, with six different public camps, three of them wilderness camps without fencing of any sort.

I was heading for Xaus camp, a private camp on land returned to the ownership of local Bushmen and Mier people. My directions included, intriguingly, a waterhole as a rendezvous. The two-hour drive up from the Twee Rivieren gate was along the couse of a dry river, the Aub, which is dotted with camel thorns, windpumps and waterholes; deep down there is water: before the Second World War this region was once farmed and the windpumps are the legacy.

At every waterhole, springbok were sheltering from the sun and giraffes were browsing listlessly. Just before my meeting point I saw a cheetah sitting rather shame-faced beside a small springbok carcass.

After a short wait under some trees, loud with chattering weaver birds, my khaki-clad hosts arrived in a safari vehicle. I followed them to a track heading west. We rushed up huge sand dunes and plunged down the other side. It was terrific fun.

The Kgalagadi Transfrontier Park was created 10 years ago by the joining of two parks, one in Botswana and one in South Africa, to form an almost limitless wilderness of 3.8 million hectares, one of the biggest in southern Africa. It is a dry region of sparse vegetation and red sand dunes, with six different public camps, three of them wilderness camps without fencing of any sort.

I was heading for Xaus camp, a private camp on land returned to the ownership of local Bushmen and Mier people. My directions included, intriguingly, a waterhole as a rendezvous. The two-hour drive up from the Twee Rivieren gate was along the course of a dry river, the Aub, which is dotted with camel thorns, windpumps and waterholes. Deep down there is water: before the Second World War this region was once farmed and the windpumps are the legacy.

At every waterhole, springbok were sheltering from the sun and giraffes were browsing listlessly. Just before my meeting point I saw a cheetah sitting rather shamefaced beside a small springbok carcass.

After a short wait under some trees, loud with chattering weaver birds, my khaki-clad hosts arrived in a safari vehicle. I followed them to a track heading west. We rushed up huge sand dunes and plunged down the other side.

It was terrific fun. Xaus Lodge is reached in an hour or so by way of an astonishing drive over some 90 sand dunes; it suddenly comes into sight on the crest of one of these. It looks down at a huge pan – the local term for a seasonal or ephemeral lake – with an artificial waterhole which attracts birds and game at all times of the day and night.

From a distance, the lodge looks like a row of Native American tepees, linked by a boardwalk. They turn out to be comfortable cottages, each with a little balcony looking over the pan, a large roof fan, and with a luxurious bathroom.

There is a small plunge pool, a pleasant dining room serving good traditional southern African food, like bobotie (a light Malay curry) and potjekos (slow-cooked stews prepared in an old-fashioned iron pot).

Dinner is also served outside in a boma, a traditional, reed-enclosed space. There are twice-daily game drives – pretty well standard at all safari lodges – and walks can be arranged. One night we saw six young lions of different ages waiting at a waterhole while their elders hunted. Adult lions range as far as 10km on a hunt, and the young wait patiently until summoned.

The Kalahari lion is said to be bigger than the conventional lion, and the male has a bigger and blacker mane. Because game is generally more sparse in this area than further north, the Kalahari lion is an opportunistic feeder, but the bulk of its diet is small antelope. Lions have a peculiar way of not looking at you as you look at them. Our group of youngsters seemed more curious than hostile.

But if they do start looking at you, it’s probably time to move on. Xaus Lodge charges US$263 (Dh966) per person per night in a twin bed ensuite chalet with balcony, including all meals, activities, a game drive and transfers from Rooibrak meeting point (www.xauslodge.co.za/lodge.html; 00 27 21 7017860).

The public camps in the park, at the two main entrance gates, Mata Mara and Twee Rivieren, are well equipped, comfortable, cheap and are on the main routes, following the dried riverbeds of the Aus and Nossob rivers.

On these routes there are waterholes, and you could well see a cheetah kill, as I did. You will certainly see giraffe, kudu, wildebeest, springbok and scimitar-horned oryx, a close relation of the Arabian oryx. Way out into the park there are 4x4 routes leading to untold vastness, but it is advisable to go with another vehicle.

Back at the camp, there is a small Bushman village where groups of the local Kung spend a few weeks at a time making arts and crafts. They are reticent people, but do, if possible, take a walk with one of the Bushman guides.

It is truly astonishing what they can tell you about the landscape, the plants and animals, including spiders and scorpions. One of our guides, a Kung lad, showed us scorpion and snake holes, and another caught a puff adder in camp and removed it to a safe distance. You very soon see why this land, dry as it is, has sustained them for thousands of years.

What to you looks dry, is to them full of plants, like the very common Kalahari melon, which provides water. I tasted some: not great, but potentially life-saving. Sadly, this life is doomed: I saw one of the younger boys taking a photograph with his mobile phone. This was my second walk with a Bushman guide, and both times I have been entranced.

The first time – at Jack’s Camp in the centre of the Kalahari – I was shown how to make a porcupine trap with sticks. While I have never had the opportunity to catch a porcupine, I am glad to have the knowledge. But what you realise out here is that the Bushman universe, contracting though it is under pressure, was a complete and self-contained culture, with its own religious beliefs, songs, trance dances and rites of passage that owed very little to any other.

If Xaus is comfortable and relatively economical, Tswalu Kalahari Reserve, a member of the Relais and Chateaux hotel group, about two hours north of Upington in the South African section of the Kalahari, is ultra-luxurious; the biggest privately owned game reserve in South Africa at some 100,000 hectares, and is the creation of the Oppenheimer family.

Tswalu is most often reached by private plane from Johannesburg or by arrangement with the operators from Cape Town; I drove from Kgalagadi Transfrontier Park. I like the sensation of rolling endlessly through an empty landscape, and stopped once to watch a 180cm-long Cape Cobra cross the road. It took me longer than the four hours I had anticipated, and even in my robust 4x4, it was rough going.

It was sunset when I arrived, the sun setting luridly behind a range of small mountains, the Korannaberg. Hot towels and cold drinks appeared as if by magic. I have been to Tswalu before: it has wonderful guides, sensational horse riding, walks, a spa and small gym, a large swimming pool and some very rare animals including the strikingly marked mountain zebra.

It is run as an eco-reserve, so the emphasis is on restoring what were once 20 or so farms to its pristine state. A family-run foundation is dedicated to this task and to helping local communities. One huge section of the reserve contains lions which live entirely naturally by hunting. I went riding in the other section, past herds of buffalo and oryx and almost countless impala and springbok.

A day’s riding followed by a night’s camping out on the dunes, in the greatest comfort, is also now offered as standard. Back at my supremely luxurious, thatched, ludicrously spacious, African-inspired house, I sat on my balcony and watched herds of kudu and other antelope come in to drink at the waterhole.

The following day we drove to a spectacular lookout in the mountains, where lunch was served looking down onto a plain and a waterhole, teeming with buffalo and zebra. Later that night we dined in the spectacular African boma, which leads off the Motse that sits at the centre of eight lodges, known as legae (a Tswana word for small village).

About 16km away in the cradle of the mountains is a private house, Tarkuni, which sleeps 10, and is rented as a whole by families or friends, complete with private guide, cook, and staff. It even has its own waterhole and swimming pool. At Tswalu Kalahari Reserve, a suite sleeping two people, costs from $615 (Dh2,260) per person, per night, full board, including two game drives daily, guided walks and horse riding (www.tswalu.com; 00 27 11 2742299).

One of the most original camps in the Kalahari is the famous Jack’s Camp. It is set under palm trees, on the edge of the 1.2 million hectare Makadikigadi Pans that were once part of the biggest lake in Africa, but are now completely dry in winter.

The palms grow along the path of the elephant migration because the nuts of the tree must pass through the elephant’s digestive system in order to germinate. In summer after the rains, enormous herds of migrating wildebeest and zebra pass this way, followed by lions, and huge flocks of pink flamingos busy themselves in the shallow water. I would include Jack’s, a sort of upmarket Bedouin camp, with wonderful quad bike excursions, in any extended tour of the Kalahari.

Tented accommodation at Jack’s Camp costs from $1,250 (Dh4,590) per person per night based on two sharing. The price includes accommodation, activities, food and drink, guides, National Park entry fees and VAT, but not flights from Maun to the camp; these cost $279 (Dh1,025) per person. Bookings through Uncharted Africa (www.unchartedafrica.com; 00 27 11 4471605).

Justin Cartwright’s new novel, ‘To Heaven by Water’, is set partly in the Kalahari. It will be published in July by Bloomsbury.