Got Game?

Cold, dry sand poured into my shoe, cramping my toes as they filled the spaces between with every step. My quick breaths were coming out in little puffs, keeping time with the uphill march. In the shadow of my face, the dense mist formed dew drops on my eyebrow and eyelashes. I was half frozen, and half glowing with warmth. My peripheries were numb, as was my shaded right half. But internally, I was on fire, my lungs and legs burning as they pushed against the soft sand only to gain an inch. I turned my focus from my disappearing feet and looked ahead at the line of hikers ascending Dune 45 in single file, as if balancing on the edge of the dune. We were all steady in pace, occasionally glancing at the lightening sky. Soon, the sun would break from behind the mountain and chase away the fog we were rapidly rising from. We were racing the sun to the summit. This was the way of Namibia. You were either racing or chasing, or endlessly waiting.

"We must be fast with breakfast," said our guide, Gabriel. Sunrays had barely broken the horizon, but the kettle was on the boil and our breakfast was already laid out by his assistant, Manfred. As we huddled by the fire, chewing our toast and baked beans, Gabriel explained that he had just spoken with a fellow guide on the phone. A lion had recently killed a kudu, and we were to race other groups to secure a good view at the site. Rattling along the corrugated track, we spotted a few vehicles lined up by a tree, and rolled up join them. A male lion lazed in the shade, the dead kudu by his side. He turned his nose up and stared intently upwind. Hyena were lurking in the distance, trying to pinpoint their next meal, but the wind was in favour of the lion that morning.

Etosha National Park offers up the classics.

It was only the cats that everyone seemed to compete to see. The other wildlife in Etosha National Park were almost guaranteed to be observed as you drove through. Giraffe, elephants, antelope, zebra, blue wildebeest... were numerous. The many waterholes still increased your chances, and yet more species were bound to be spotted... if you were patient. We had been at this particular waterhole for nearing an hour and had seen many ungulates come and go. The most part of the hour belonged to the giraffe who would edge ever closer to the water's edge, stand and stare for several minutes, slowly part its front legs and lower its head, only to quickly stand tall and stare again. This it would do several times, never taking in water. Gabriel explained that the giraffes' vulnerable drinking position causes them to possess a particularly nervous habit of checking the environment for predators.

Gabriel was tapping and swiping at his mobile phone screen while we sighed at the twitchy giraffe. "This waterhole never disappoints," he said, eyes still on the device. Looking around the vehicle, we also spotted some black-backed jackals, and some warthog joined the waterhole several minutes later. The sun slipped behind the mountains and we sat down in our seats, ready to return to camp. But from the bushes, a lone black rhinoceros emerged. Excitedly, we watched as it walked straight to the waterhole for a drink. The wait had been fruitful. Gabriel glanced up from his phone. "This waterhole never disappoints."