The African Mouse

Our quarters
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After a jolly farewell with much hugging and shaking of hands, we left Kruger and returned to Nelspriut. We needed to recharge our camera batteries which had convenientley died just as we saw our last lion pride. I promise to send J.J. a cd with films from our trip and pictures, a promise apparently many of his guests have made and subsequently forgotten, so I'm determined to do it, but he won't have photos of the last pride.

We left from Nelspruit on the wrong side of the road in a rented car (a VW CitiGolf). It took some time adjusting, but soon I was comfortable enough to make some progress to our next destination which was the Blyde River Canyon. We'd heard some amazing things, so we wanted to check it ourselves. It is apparently the third largest canyon in the world, and the only one with greenery. The roads here are perfect. Nice wide lanes with miles of smooth blacktop. It is good to see anyway that the highways are well maintained, even through the sprawling tribal villages that are otherwise served only by red dirt roads once you leave the tarmac.

I decided it must be the African House Mouse and that it should NOT be reported to Magda

Outside of the Tracker's B and B
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We reached the canyon just as the sun was starting to dip low on the horizon. First we went to 'potholes' where two rivers converge to carve out odd shaped holes in the red rock. Bridges allow you to wander over deep crevaces and stare down into the holes. It was truly beautiful, especially in the orange light of the setting sun.

The next stop was the Three Roundevels. These are the main geological features of the canyon, three enormous round rock outcroppings that look a bit like the traditional round African huts, or Roundevels. The view was amazing. The canyon does evoke memories of (in my mind) the greatest of them all, Grand Canyon, but is much more green and with villages perched almost right on the edge and troops of baboons wandering the parking lots, very much African. We continued down to the valley floor, descending a thousand feet or so, to where sprawling farms and green pastures line the river edge. Signs of tourism are scarce but for a shack set up with a sign that says, "Rocks for Sale." Later we'd pass rows of stalls selling souvenirs from local craftsmen and women, the sellers backing up in the gathering gloom to walk for several hours to get home.

Blyde River Canyon
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Our plan was to sleep at the north end of the canyon at a backpackers we'd read about called "Trackers". Appropriate since you needed one to find it. Especially in the dark. We turned off the main road after spotting a sign pointing us in the right direction. We then drove miles on a shabbier street, populated by workers returning to their villages who walked along the side of the road and sometimes in it. At times it turned into the human slolem which necessitated slowing way way down. When we finally reached the gate it was closed and the sun was all but gone. There were no lights on the other side of a high electric fence, typical for South Africa but still disconcerting. The fence turned out to be unlocked, so we entered and immediately found ourselves on a rutted dirt road driving straight up the side of the canyon. We could see a light far up in the distance, but it didn't occur to us that it was our destination until the road became steeper and more treacherous.

Stalls along the road
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When we finally reached the top we found ourselves at a round, well manicured house on a closely shorn lawn. We were also immediately surrounded my a troupe of wiener dogs who noisily announced our approach. A guy came out of the light into the dark with a questioning look on his face. Who were we and where did we roll in from? He relaxed slightly when we told him we were just looking for a place for the night and then began telling us our options. Since we were prepared to camp on the lawn we declined the astronomicly expensive room inside and prepared to set up on the grass. He came up with one last suggestion, and that was that we stay in the old bunkhouse a little higher up on the hill. When we looked interested, he immediately began to play the place down as a bit shabby. We said it was fine, we didn't mind shabby, but there was something in his sideways glance that worried me. How bad could it be? Well, this is Africa. It can get pretty bad.

Morning in Blyde River Canyon
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The place was the setting for "The Shining 2, Son of Jack". Our host switched on the circuit breaker with a loud clack, and as a strobe-like neon tube flickered to life the darkness receded to reveal a kitchen with bare white walls and warped formica counters. Beyond the kitchen it was filled with haunted looking rooms stocked with moldering cots, of which we could take our pick. There was a large main room covered on one side by windows that reflected the interior against the darkness outside. He showed us the shower he might recommend using, but I found I couldn't look at it long or else I might actually need to take one. Which would not have been a good idea.

Magda and friends
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He left us alone to sort ourselves out, a large group was coming to stay in the main house and he had to see to their dinner. When he was gone the silence was all encompassing. Except for our laughter about having landed in another fine mess. However, there was a working stove on which we cooked our meager dinner, and plently of outlets to recharge all of our dead batteries. The bunkhouse seemed dry and basically liveable, so we hand picked the least malicious looking cots and pulled them close together in one of the more friendly seeming rooms.

Things look bleak
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I was standing in the kitchen after Magda has retired to bed. I was sending my Mom a message via the blackberry about how crazy the place was when a motion out of the corner of my eye froze me. It was the world's largest mouse. Not a rat mind you, but a mouse, with a coat like an impala's and large cheerful cheeks. It was surprised to see me and lumbered off into a corner with a surprising amount of noise. I decided it must be the African House Mouse and that it should NOT be reported to Magda, who was already looking a little green in the flickering florescent lights. But sometime around 3:30 in the morning it became necessary to reveal the presence of our friend as we woke to the sound of crashing pans and heavy, mouse sized footsteps in the kitchen. Relieved that the South African robbers, long promised, had not in fact finally arrived, I think she felt the mouse was a minor worry and we both went back to sleep.

Bleaker still
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We woke up at dawn, and after taking a few photographs to memorialize the interiors, we hurridly packed up and were bumping back down the rutted dirt road before anyone awoke to see us go.

We headed back to Nelspruit, making good time on mostly empty roads, returned the rental without major incident and caught a bus back to Pretoria for our next adventure.