Author: Hoffman

Journeys back. Slowly, hints of civilisation are emerging – a track, the wheel ruts feint and in places covered in a green sheen of hardy furrow weed. It will eventually lead to another track, more frequently used, perhaps with footpaths that show human signs branching off, and a twisted scrap of orange plastic blown against a shrub… But it will be another day, perhaps two. Here the sky and the veld still tower over the senses and calm the mind to wonder. It is glorious solitude and endless open that makes one want to run, and run, and run...

  Sweet indulgence after a walk from the vehicle that had stretched through the morning and past midday. As one leaves the wilderness the blemishes made by people and their doings will slowly begin to appear and the richness of the bush will be diluted. But until that happens, there is still much to enjoy. With the going relatively easy along our old tracks and the pace slowed by reluctance, there is time for such exploration of those “wonder what’s down there” spots that were passed on the way in. I especially love those check-it-out strolls around the camp...

My brother, Phillip, in reaction to my petrol ramblings, sent me this photo to remind me of a petrol miracle we had once lived through together. It happened on the way out from the far north of Mozambique, near the border with Tanzania. As must be expected of experienced wilderness wanderers, we had stashed some petrol in the bush to get us back to Lichinga, which was where we hoped to find a filling station with some stock and a functioning pump – a reasonable assumption at best. As it turned out, the stash was no more than a...

You can listen to the voice narrative or read through the text below. Enjoy!   The petrol raced down the syphon pipe and sloshed into the tank below like it was having light-hearted fun. For me it was deadly serious. I glanced past my leg to count the containers I had left. Four. Eighty litres. Depending on how heavy the terrain is, between three hundred and five hundred kilometres. I have been meandering quite a lot, and the nearest refill point now lay some eighty kilometres of heavy bush driving back. Ahead was untamed wilderness. I dare not venture...

On the way in we passed here, down this ancient elephant path through the ravine. Old Kgalilaga had looked away and shook his head wordlessly at my foolishness when I said we’d go down without spending time working on it first – he did so again when we stood looking at it from the other side.  But the fires were flaming high on adrenaline then, and I ignored him. It had been a close thing that could have gone badly wrong – a heart-stopping drop over the lip,  then a gasping slide down over the rough surface. Of course,...

Journeys back are meant to be nostalgic meanders along the faded tracks of the past weeks, filled with second chances to enjoy all that went unnoticed in the eager excitement of going deeper, further, into the unknown. They are meant to be a slow ease-out from the enchantment of the bush. They ask that you chose the easiest and least risky ways, because they are sad and without the energy of the way in. And so, journeys back like open spaces even more than journeys in. Open spaces mean very little or none of the fury of chopping or...

A dawn comes when thoughts need to be sternly told, “Thou shalt no more ponder the ways further, deeper into the bush.”  On that morning, when the sky brightens, the sounds are different – crisp instructions, containers banging onto metal and scraping into position… The senses are turned away from the bush and hurried along to lists and space and time and checking and cleaning and loading. And the thoughts are sad, but there is some joy too, in the slow meander back along the faded tracks of past weeks, and in the bright faces and warm embraces of...

It is not written, but it is a law of the bush: If you do not know the next source of water, at peril of death do not venture from a known source further than you can return with the water you are able to take with you. One might add: and if you find a good source, drink as much as you can hold and fill every container you have to the brim. This is a good source, and after carefully checking for signs of a resident crocodile that may have ventured this far and made its lair...

When you have left behind the last hints that can somehow be traced back to civilisation and you start to dare deeper into the great wilderness, you distance yourself from the familiar undertakings and sensations of existence. What you now need to prevail are different kinds of skills, ingenuity, resilience, and perseverance – and luck. You have to make use of what you have with you, or can find around you; stitch them together in ways that will keep you going. Your vehicle with your equipment represents about the last of the familiar ploys, but one can take only...