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From Kasane to Stevensford Camp, Botswana
Some 350kms south of Kasane is a dot on the map called Nata, a couple of filling stations and a few houses. A short distance further south is the conveniently situated Nata Lodge, a perfect stopover for travellers heading north to Chobe, west to the Okavango or south to South Africa.
We stopped here for a night and splashed out the equivalent of a week's camping fees on a luxury safari tent so that we could have a rest from climbing a ladder to get in to bed! Sadly luxury did not mean mosquito free and yours truly woke up in the morning with a forehead resembling the foothills of the Alps. Angela avoided being bitten by the genetic development of not tasting nice!
I mention Nata not to keep you informed about the number of bites I'm getting (not as many as Angela was hoping I would get!) but for the incredible wildlife spectacle just south of Nata at a place with the unfortunate name of Suwa Pan.
We took a tour of the pan with Mr Pan (trainee guide) and Joy (head guide). The 4x4 track takes you through grassland that gradually gets interspersed with small salt pans and just when you think it is all salt and no life you are on the shores of a massive freshwater lake watching thousands upon thousands of pelicans and flamingos. They nest here and raise their chicks thanks to the Nata River flowing in to the lake (but not since 2005 so it is drying up).
Our last two nights in Botswana were spent at Stevensford Camp, just north of the Martins Drift border crossing to South Africa. Before reaching the camp we had to endure 4 vet checkpoints and at the second we had our steak and mince confiscated, despite buying it in Kasane Botswana! If anyone can explain the meat movement rules in this country please let me know!
Whilst on the subject of buying things in Kasane, Angela took advantage of my hour in the Internet café there to go shopping at Mr Hoo's (who?) Chinese Emporium. Amongst the bargains were two pairs of sunglasses, one a pair of Ray Bans, for 12 Pula (£1) each! The glasses look great, shame it says Ram Bum on the side!
Stevensford Camp, recommended by a friend, was idyllic, a single campsite on the banks of the Limpopo River. Thanks to the lack of rain upstream in South Africa and the numerous dams and weirs on the way, the "great grey green greasy Limpopo" of Rudyard Kipling fame is actually a dirty brown, still and greasy pond in this section. Despite this we heard hippo at night and saw crocodile during the day, not a place for a swim!
The river forms the border with South Africa, and with our typical luck the "hardly ever visited" campsite further down on the opposite bank came alive with the unmistakeable and raucous calls of that widely distributed species, Afrikaanus Alpha Malicus. Typical of this species, especially without the controlling influence of the female, is the hauntingly awful folk and rock music (mentioned in previous despatches) that emanates from their nest and is kindly shared with the rest of the forest until to 2.30am!
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