6 Sunday TimesSeptember 27 20 0 9 7Sunday Times September 27 20 0 9

T RAV E L L E RS ’ TA L E S IF YOU GO ...GETTING THERE:Limpopo Valley Horse Safaris will meet you at thePont Drift border post, just north of Polokwane,where there’s secure parking. Alternatively youcan take a shuttle from OR Tambo — or arrangea pick-up at the Limpopo Valley airfield in thereserve itself.RIDING:A horse safari is no fun unless you know how toride. Make sure you’re comfortable trotting,cantering and even jumping — and that you’reriding fit. If you’re not, you risk spoiling theadventure for yourself and your fellow riders.RATES AND CONTACT DETAILS:

The 7-day safari costs R14 000 all inclusive. Formore information, see theirwebsite,www.lvhsafaris.co.za or emailinfo@lvhsafaris.co.za or phone 00267-7232-0024.

UP FRONT, West, ourguide, turns in his saddleand grins: “Ready to kicksome dust?”

Hell, yeah.As one, the horses we’d been

weaving single-file through tight,thorny acacia scrub break the lineand burst into a smooth canter asthe terrain opens before us.

Impala startle ahead, and as wegather pace, a shoal of quelearolls across the late afternoonhorizon, past a giraffe silhouettedagainst the low sun. The 50-strongelephant herd we just passed isfar enough behind for us to openup the throttle. We ’re nearing theend of our second-last day ofriding through Northern Tuli’sMashatu Game Reserve and thehorses can smell home. I, on theother hand, smell a gin and tonic.

Tuli is the Setswana word fordust. And there’s a lot of it tokick. But it’s good, clean dust. Thekind mother used to make. It’s thedust that the local wildlife use assu n s c r e e n .

Mashatu is one of the privategame reserves that makes up theNorthern Tuli Game Reserve ineastern Botswana, part of therecently consolidated GreaterMapungubwe TransfrontierConservation Area. Thetransfrontier park stretchessouth, into South Africa’sLimpopo province, and east, overthe Shashe River, into Zimbabwe,offering 300 000 hectares ofunspoilt and fence-free terrain tothe enormous herds of elephantthat make it their home, alongwith countless antelope, giraffe,lion, wild dogs, hyena and birdlife.

There are ways to see thebushveld, and there are ways tosee the bushveld. Walking’s good,if slow — and 4x4 game drives area favourite among the tourists.There are mountain-bike safaristhrough Mashatu. And word onthe range is that there’s even ahot air balloonist in the area.

But nothing can beat ridinghorses through the bush.Especially when you find yourselfalongside an errant wildebeest,cantering along a stretch of opensavanna on the flanks of a dazzleof zebra. Throw in elephant, lion,antelope, giraffe and leopardalong with some good companyand a tented paradise thatmagically appears wherever thed ay ’s ride ends, and you’ve gotheaven on earth.

Cor and Louise Carelson, whoown and run Limpopo ValleyHorse Safaris, are my hosts forthe week’s adventure — wh i c hcomes as a last-minute,spontaneous godsend that sees

me driving hundreds ofkilometres to the Botswanaborder.

I’m met at the Pont Drift borderpost on the Limpopo River byDavid Cheno, our back-up guidefor the week ahead, andwelcomed to Two Mashatus —our first camp in the reserve — byMalora and Maitseo. I’m the firstguest to arrive, but soon theothers start to trickle in, equalparts French and British. Forsome, it’s not their first visit toTuli. LVHS gets a lot of riderscoming back for more, it seems —this augurs well.

Later on that first day, aftertaking our measure, Louise pairseach of us with a strong andexcellently schooled mount fromamong the 35 horses they stable.The horses work shifts out therein the bush. One week of safari,followed by a week of rest, thenseven days of schooling before

heading out once more. They’rekept fit and strong, well fed andwatered — and expertly groomed,even while out on the trail.

I am introduced to Frankie — atall, diplomatic gelding ofambiguous heritage. “He’s anNguni mix,” teases Malora.Magnificent, is what he is. It’sbeen a while since I was last inthe saddle, and my days of weeklyoutrides are more than a fewyears behind me, so I’m morethan happy to make Frankie’srelaxed acquaintance. Others areriding boerperde, huge shire crossthoroughbreds and SAwa r m b l o o d s .

A couple of days into the ride,David tells me how Lieutenant-General Sir Seretse Khama IanKhama popped by for a visit a fewyears back, when he was still thecountry’s number two, and whenhe rode out it was Frankie whobore Botswana’s future presidentinto the Tuli bushveld.

I find I grow quicklyaccustomed to this seat of power— even though it takes the formof an Australian stock saddle.

The others are mainly onEnglish saddles, and I remainresolutely immune to theirsidelong observations of thereinforced pommel, of which

Kim’s “Oh look, Matt’s saddle hasan anti-fall-off device on it” wa sprobably the least impugnative.

As I said, it had been a while.We don’t ride out, that first day

— some of the others arrived latein the afternoon, and by the timewe ’re all present, and our horsesaccounted for, the sun has set andit’s time to make the drive fromthe stables back to camp.

As the light fades, a strangeand foreign sight unfolds acrossthe night sky.

Bloody hell, I think, look at allthose stars. Millions of them —billions, even — littered idlyacross the firmament as if they’vebeen there all along. They’re notfooling anyone, though — I’veseen the night sky often enoughfrom the city to know for certainthat all those extra stars weren’tthere before this evening.

I used to be able to spot Orion, Iremember. But tonight I’m lost;

Back in the saddleMatthew du Plessis mounts upfor a different view of Botswana’sMashatu Game Reserve

there are just too many stars up there forme to be able to join the right dots.

“It’s too early for Orion,” laughs Cor,and points out Scorpio to us instead.

Back at Two Mashatus, the table in thedining boma has been set, and after myfellow travellers and I mount a successfulraid on the bar’s wine stocks, Maitseotells us what camp cooks and sistersGrace and Martha have whipped up forthe evening feast. The pair had alreadymade quite an impression on our smallhorde of famished riders-to-be with thebutternut quiche on a phyllo pastry theyserved for lunch, but the spicy tomatosoup and the smoky lamb roasted overmopane coals areh e ave n - s e n t .

Throughout theweek ahead, thelunches that cap ourmorning rides andthe dinners that seeus to bed arei n c o mp a r ab l e .Traditional bobotie,pizza, quiches,skewer kebabs andsplendid roasts;c h e e s e c a ke s ,chocolate browniesand cream, and milktarts for dessert —all beyond delicious,all preparedmyst e r i o u s ly ,i n c r e d i b ly ,miraculously on acampfire in the bush.

Our nights are spent in spacious tentsthat sport real beds with honest-to-Betsymattresses. They follow us from camp tocamp, providing wondrous relief forsulky muscle groups that are firstshocked, then tested and finally made tocome to terms with the six or sevenhours we spend in the saddle each day.

The days begin with a 5am wake-upcall by Cor or Malora, ameliorating thesheer lack of civility of the hour with amug of hot coffee. Hasty bucket showersand quick breakfasts are grabbed whilet h ey ’re hot, and we’ve mounted up andare riding out as the sun rises.

At first, the land is marked by green,yellow and copper Mopane trees nibbleddown to eye-level by the elephants, witha golden carpet of long, wispy grass

rolled out beneath. As we progress, theMopane savanna gives way to riverineforests along the Limpopo and Motloutserivers, offset by magnificent sandstoneoutcrops and dolerite dykes.

While our mornings and someafternoons are filled with hard riding(amazing, thrilling, sublime riding), inthe evenings we do some exploring onour own two feet. We visit a craft centreat David’s home village, and picnic in anearby canyon (gin and tonics ahoy)surrounded by pre-historic rock art.Another day, we visit the Motloutse ruinson Mmamagwe, a tall hill from where theiron-age rulers of the 13th-century

Mapangubwe kingdomcould survey the landfor miles around.There, amid the potteryfragments and glassbeads brought bytraders from as faraway as India, Egyptand even China, standsa single baobab, carvedwith the initials of thatinfamous giver ofheadaches, Cecil JohnRhodes.

The only animals uphere are an extendedfamily of elephantshrew, outraged at themess we’re making ofthe neat network ofavenues they’ve tidiedinto the hillside. Butfrom our vantage point

at the top, we have a spectacular view ofherds, prides, dazzles and journeys onthe vista spread beneath our feet. Armedonly with G&Ts and, miraculously,oysters, we marvel lazily, or lazemarvellously, as the sun melts into thehorizon.

So it goes, there in the bush. The dayspass in a haze of horses, wild animals,feasts and more than one too many G&Ts.

Yo u ’d think, perhaps, that a week inthe saddle would be enough. A week ofearly nights and earlier mornings, ofaching limbs and sun-burned faces.

But those setting suns. The cry of thefish eagle. Trumpeting elephants, andhooves in the dust. Never enough. —Matthew du Plessis was a guest ofLimpopo Valley Horse Safaris

GI V EA W AYThis article is basedon one of thesuggestions inClean Breaks: 500new ways to seethe world byRichard Hammondand Jeremy Smith(Rough Guides). Tostand a chance of winning one of fourcopies, send your answer to thequestion below toc o m p et i t i o n @ z a . p e n g u i n g ro u p . c o mwith Sunday Times Clean Breaks inthe subject line.QUESTION: What are the ruins onthe tall hill of Mmamagwe called?

LEFT INTHEDUST: Tu l imeansdust inS et swa n a ,andt h e re ’s alot of ita ro u n d

HORSEPLAY: Riders spot eland and other wildlife in Mashatu, part of the Northern Tuli game reserve

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