The deep, thundering roar of a lion snaps me out of sleep. My eyes open, wide and alert. It is before five and still dark outside. The lion sounds very close – almost too close. There are no fences here and the lions are known to pass through the camp. I lie dead-still, waiting for the next roar. And then I hear it. Like an engine starting, it begins with a low rumble then gathers gusto and becomes a deafening noise that fills my tent with a powerful reverberation. Surely the roar of a lion is the most exhilarating sound in nature. It manages to do that wonderful thing of instilling fear and joy at the same time. I hear it again – the gravelly start, the deafening finish. I lie in the darkness with a crazed smile on my face, marvelling at the thrilling roar.
We are in the Marataba Game Reserve in Limpopo, four hours north of Johannesburg. Marataba is a malaria-free 23,000-hectare private concession within the Marakele National Park. The reserve has excellent wildlife, with leopard sightings common and the Big 5 a distinct possibility if given a few days. While the wildlife is varied, I would love to see one of the big cats. I have never seen a leopard and have only seen a wild lion once. I hope to change that here.
At breakfast, our travelling group of Rhino Africa consultants can still hear the lions roaring. They seem even closer than before. Everyone listens in terror and then falls back in their chairs with laughter. Fear and joy. As the roars become more frequent we drift towards the front lawn of the lodge and peer out over the waterhole and through the thicket towards the Waterberg Mountains looming over the park. Our experienced guide, Jono, points out for a spot to keep our eyes on and then, almost on cue, we see the lion. It crosses slowly, languidly through the thicket, and then it’s gone. An ethereal vision in the African veld. All we’ve seen is a glimpse. A distant, blurry image of a mighty creature, but stirring and enticing nonetheless.
I had a similar glimpse the previous evening. We arrived in the afternoon and, after a quick high tea, set off on a game drive. Our group drove in two vehicles, one group decided to try their luck with a leopard that had been sighted the day before while the other decided to go in search of a rhino that was nearby and then move on to the leopard. I was with the second group. While on the lookout for the rhino, we found a herd of elephants and watched them trundle around a riverbed. Further on, we were stared down by a group of indignant giraffes and saw six white rhino. One of the six stood out because of her massive horn that grew strangely straight out, parallel to the ground, instead of up like a narwhal or a jousting stick.
As the daylight began to fade we arrived at the leopard sighting, and drove past the other vehicle. “She is here,” Jono told us, “But she is not happy. She just charged our vehicle.” I looked to the consultants for confirmation and found it in their wild eyes and flared nostrils, clearly still buzzing from their close encounter.
We approached, slowly searching the tree for movement when our guide, Michelle, pointed across the road to a shape walking away from us. “There it goes!” Michelle blurted out as quietly as she could. And there it went, into the grass and out of sight. We could make out a shape of a cub through the foliage of a tree enjoying the remains of a carcass but could not see it clearly. As the light faded we were ushered away. We had a boat to catch. A long, admiring look was not to be.
The boat took us out on the Matlabas River for sundowners, just as the sun was hitting the horizon and playing with the colours of the striking Waterberg range. We floated slowly out to the middle of the river and looked on as a herd of elephants waded across the river. As we sipped our drinks on the tranquil water all the slight irritations of the day faded away. The delay in travelling (a stone chipped our back windscreen on the way), the late lunch, the frustration of the elusive leopard – it all disappeared from my thoughts with the sun slipping from the day. As the waxing moon appeared and Saturn and Venus with it, our group eased into a holiday state of mind. Jokes were thrown around and stories of past trips came out, memories of times equally as perfect as this. Can there be a better way to end a day than with sundowners on an African river surrounded by wildlife? If there is, I do not know of it. We ended the night ogling at the impressive stars and listening to the lions roaring from the comfort of our luxury tents.
After breakfast, we head to the other lodge in the reserve, the Trails Lodge, where we hike into one of the gorges of the Waterberg Mountains. Two guides take us on the Bushman’s Trail and show us 2,000-year-old paintings of an elephant, giraffe and rhinoceros. The skies are clear and the conditions perfect for walking as we amble up the spectacular gorge. We find signs of leopard, lion, rhino, hippo and Cape otter on the trail and stalk quietly along hoping for a glimpse of one of these animals. We see a pair of klipspringers and a crowned eagle but no predators. My quest for an intimate, big cat encounter continues.
After the hike, half of us decide that the tranquility and comfort of the Marataba Trails Lodge are too lovely to leave while the rest decide to go out on one more game drive. One last chance before we leave. We find a lookout point up against the mountains and have sundowners overlooking the park and the setting sun. Baboons shriek in the cliffs behind us as we lean against the Land Cruiser and relish another glorious African sunset.
With the drinks finished and the darkness setting in Jono says we can go on one more loop in search of the lions we heard in the morning. The eyes of bush babies glint back at us as we zip through the park. And then we get a call on the radio: the lions have been spotted near us. We turn around and, with the crisp night air nipping at our faces, make for the sighting. Dinner and our colleagues can wait.
Within minutes, we are at the sighting. Another vehicle shows us where they are with their red spotlight. The light washes over the nearby grass and illuminates three resting lionesses. They are calm, quiet and lying in the grass only a few metres away. The three of them doze lazily in the grass while one looks at us nonchalantly through half-closed eyes. Minutes go by as we sit in silent admiration, happy to just be near them, too fixated to reach for our cameras and take a photo. As they adjust in their beds we are overcome by their regal and magnificent nature. Seeing their taut muscles and latent power it would be easy to be struck with fear, but all I feel is joy.