South Africa: Day 3

A Pilgrim’s Chronicle: The Big Five, a False Alarm, and Other Matters of Great Importance

From your correspondent in the wilds of South Africa

Dearest gentle reader,

Your humble correspondent from the Holy Comforter pilgrimage team returns with another account of our life. Although my introduction may sound suspiciously familiar, please do not confuse me with Lady Whistledown of Bridgerton fame. Unlike that distinguished lady, I have no scandals to reveal or reputations to ruin. My mission is considerably more innocent: to report on the discoveries, adventures, and occasional misadventures of our intrepid pilgrims.

And what a day we had!

Our day began at an hour even the most dedicated rooster might consider unreasonable. By 4:30 a.m., many of us were awake, preparing for our 5:30 am game drive. Breakfast would not be served until our return, some three and a half hours later. Fortunately, the thoughtful hotel staff provided coffee, tea, and peanut butter biscotti. Hardly a royal banquet, but sufficient to sustain our enthusiasm.

Our mission was clear: to complete our encounter with Africa’s celebrated Big Five—the buffalo, lion, elephant, leopard, and rhinoceros. The previous evening, we had already encountered three: elephants, buffalo, and rhinoceroses. Only the elusive feline aristocracy remained.

As the African sun rose over the hills, we encountered a family of baboons near Mankwe Dam, engaged in what could only be described as monkey business. Nearby, hippopotamuses enjoyed their morning bath, seemingly indifferent to our presence.

Climbing the rocky roads, we encountered zebras, guineafowl, and a herd of wildebeest whose dominant male was vigorously chasing a younger rival who had apparently entertained romantic ambitions toward his females. Dear reader, jealousy, it seems, is not confined to London's drawing rooms!

We also admired a magnificent Kori Bustard, an enormous bird whose prehistoric appearance suggested it had personally witnessed the age of dinosaurs.

Meanwhile, our jeep bounced along the rocky roads with the grace of a particularly mischievous camel, introducing us to muscles we had long forgotten existed.

Then came the moment we had been hoping for.

A leopard!

About forty yards away, almost perfectly camouflaged, stood this magnificent creature, patiently observing two unsuspecting impalas. As the leopard moved, the impalas detected the danger and escaped at remarkable speed. Deprived of its breakfast, the disappointed predator wandered off. I suspect most of us were secretly relieved by the outcome.

Shortly afterward, we encountered a crash of rhinoceroses grazing peacefully beside the road. Yes, gentle reader, crash is indeed the collective noun for a group of rhinoceroses. Their enormous bodies were so close that we could hear their heavy footsteps and even their chewing. It was a remarkable privilege to observe these prehistoric-looking giants in their natural surroundings.

But one member of the Big Five remained missing: His Majesty the Lion.

Then suddenly, Julie cried out, “LION!”

Dylan, our knowledgeable guide, immediately stopped the vehicle. Eleven excited pilgrims turned toward the hillside, binoculars appeared, and everyone began offering increasingly enthusiastic directions.

“Where?”

“To the left!”

“Behind those bushes!”

Dear reader, imagine eleven determined observers attempting to identify one particular bush among approximately ten thousand.

We searched. We squinted. We adjusted our binoculars.

And we saw… absolutely nothing.

The sighting was reluctantly declared a false alarm. His Majesty, apparently, had declined our invitation.

By then, another urgent matter demanded attention. Several hours of bouncing, excitement, and morning coffee had created certain physiological necessities that could no longer be ignored. Fortunately, a designated rest area appeared just in time.

A group of guineafowl approached, apparently hoping for a contribution to their breakfast. Alas, having survived on biscotti and anticipation, we had little sympathy for their predicament.

We returned to the resort exhilarated, delighted, and considerably shaken—physically, courtesy of the roads. A magnificent brunch restored our strength before we departed for Johannesburg.

Our return journey offered further opportunities for spiritual reflection, particularly concerning the virtues of patience on South African highways.

At the hotel, we were welcomed with cranberry juice, warm smiles, and our waiting luggage. After a brief rest, we departed for Constitution Hill, only to discover that finding suitable and secure parking for our bus was an adventure beyond even our resourceful driver, Victor.

After several unsuccessful attempts, prudence prevailed. Constitution Hill would have to await another audience with our distinguished company.

But the most meaningful moment of the day was still to come.

During our customary evening reflection, we shared what had surprised, inspired, and moved us. We spoke of the extraordinary privilege of experiencing God's creation—not through photographs or television, but through our own senses.

We remembered the crisp morning air, the warmth of the rising sun, the birdsong, the heavy footsteps of the rhinoceroses, and the distinctive smells of the African bush.

We realized that we had not merely seen these magnificent animals. We had heard them, felt their surroundings, and briefly entered the remarkable world God had created for them.

What began as an adventurous search for the Big Five became something far more meaningful: an opportunity to marvel at the beauty, complexity, and delicate balance of creation.

And perhaps that is one of the quiet gifts of pilgrimage. We begin our journeys with carefully prepared itineraries and expectations of what we hope to discover. Yet often, the greatest gifts are those we never thought to seek.

We set out hoping to see five magnificent animals. We returned having encountered something much greater.

As for the elusive lion, I am inclined to forgive his absence. After all, even royalty deserves an occasional morning of privacy.

Until our next adventure, dearest gentle reader, may your travels be filled with wonder, your hearts with gratitude, and your journeys with considerably fewer potholes.

Your devoted correspondent from the Holy Comforter pilgrimage team

P.S. Four of the Big Five graciously granted us an audience. His Majesty the Lion, however, declined to appear. One can only conclude that even in the African wilderness, royalty keeps its own schedule.

– Rogelio Marchetti