LOOKING BACK AT LOCKDOWN

IT’S NOT UNCOMMON for me to be away in the bush for a few months at a time, often staying in serious dumps with little or no comforts. I have learned to become fully self-sufficient. There is nothing more annoying than being in some remote hole where you are unable to fry an egg because there is no frying pan. I take everything, plus some, including items to keep me sane, like books and DVDs.

With a fully loaded helicopter and 3.5 hours fuel, my lift off is somewhat flat, loving ground effect for as long as needed and departing in a dignified manner, much like a 747.

I climbed away from Tempe mid-morning and set course for Augrabies, planning to get there ahead of the others so I could take time to unpack and settle into my chalet, walk down to the chasms of the falls and breath in the earthy wet spray that explodes above the gorge.

The on-going drought made a sobering contrast from the wet, green and lush mountains of yesterday. Ahead and in every direction to beyond the horizon lay a shimmering sun beaten landscape devoid of anything green. It was going to be a hot few days flying at Augrabies. The outside air temperature passing over the arid Kalahari with its ripples of red sand dunes running off in parallel lines was 38 degrees C, so I feared it would be in the 40s on the ground.

There seemed to be an impossible contrast from the red sand to that of countless life forms, shimmering water, green fields of irrigation and vines looming ahead along the snaking Orange River, a barrier that changes the landscape from rolling dunes in the east, to desolate, arid planes interspersed with barren looking rocky outcrops and hills to the west.

READ MORE IN THIS MONTH'S EDITION..