The alarm rang at 3.45 am. I turned and pressed the snooze button. "Uthey poro," (get up), a voice came from the other end of the room, amidst the darkness. "Didn't you say we had to leave at 4.30 am?" I jumped out of bed, looked at my phone — 3.47 am — and looked at Pishi (paternal aunt), my travel companion this time, all set to embark on an adventure through the wilderness of South Africa.

A few months earlier, I had asked her if she had a wishlist, any place she wanted to visit. In a fleeting moment, she said she wanted to see lions in Africa. Quite a thing for a 75-year-old to say, I thought.

That's how this trip was planned.

We flew from New Delhi to Johannesburg, then boarded a tiny propeller flight to Hoedspruit — a 30-seater aircraft that landed on an airstrip surrounded by lush forests. As we walked out, still fascinated by the wooden cart carrying our luggage, I noticed a man holding a board that simply read: ‘ROY’. Soon, we were in an open safari vehicle with Carlos from Kapama Southern Camp.

"Keep your eyes open, you might spot big cats on the way," he said, and I saw Pishi smile.

Where The Wildness & Adventure Began

It was nearly dusk when we reached Kapama Southern Camp, nestled within the Greater Kruger region. The adrenaline kicked in the moment we spotted a bushbuck at the corner of the reception. It surged again while walking towards our suite.

Designed to blend seamlessly into the surrounding bushveld, the camp feels like an extension of the wilderness itself. Every pathway opens towards uninterrupted views, making nature feel less like a backdrop and more like a permanent resident.

We had barely begun unwinding when there was a knock.

"Dinner will be served soon," Carlos said. "I'm here to take you. You can't walk alone after dark." As we walked towards the dining hall, I heard rustling behind the bushes. "We have bushbuck, impala, and duikers inside the property," Carlos reassured us. "They don't do anything."

A four-course meal began with butternut soup, followed by grilled scallops, mussels, and salad. I chose a perfectly cooked beef steak with mashed potatoes, and finished with red rice cakes and pineapple sorbet. A meal like that, in what felt like the middle of nowhere, somehow made the wilderness even more surreal.

Before dropping us back, Carlos reminded us: "Tomorrow. 4.30 am."

South African BIG 5 & The Sounds of Savannah

Sharp at 4.27 am, Carlos was at our door with another young man. “Good morning, ladies! This is Kennith. He will also come with us today,” Carlos greeted us.

We locked the room and started walking. “Beautiful dress, mamma,” he said, looking at my septuagenarian companion, clad in her nine-yard saree, all set for the day. “She’s up for some real adventure,” I said. We all chuckled, and in half-awe, half-admiration, I looked at Pishi in her blue saree and safari hat that she had essentially packed for this very day.

With our breakfast and an adequate amount of coffee stocked up in the vehicle, we left Southern Camp while the sky was just beginning to light up, ready to embrace whatever nature had to offer.

As we drove through the dusty roads, the wind hit my face, and I felt goosebumps. It’s probably what the savannahs do to you. Soon, we spotted a dazzle of zebras.

“Zebras are my favourite,” Carlos said. “And what’s your favourite animal, Roy?”

“Elephants,” I said. “Will we get to see them?”

“Many,” this time it was Kennith who spoke. “And of all sizes! You’ll love them!”

He couldn’t finish his words before a giraffe suddenly appeared in front of our jeep, seemingly out of nowhere. And then, it disappeared just as quickly. Soon, we spotted a red hartebeest grazing alone, and then some bushbucks here and there. In my mind, I kept thinking that if these animals were roaming around with so much ease, it meant there were no big cats around. That’s probably the most adventurous part of a game drive. You barely know what awaits you around the next bend.

As Kennith and Carlos spoke amongst themselves, the speed of the vehicle increased. I understood that we were about to see something. And in the next few seconds, I heard the trumpeting of elephants.

The vehicle slowed down, and in front of us stood a massive male, almost as if he was looking directly at the four of us. Behind him were many more. I couldn’t count, but perhaps there were eight or ten, maybe more. And then the smallest one of the herd ran from one bush to another, in the most playful manner. They started eating leaves, almost nonchalant about our presence at a distance of less than 50 metres.

“Let’s move,” said Carlos, putting the vehicle into reverse gear as the road ahead was blocked by the herd. The gentlemen from Kapama knew how to respect the laws of the jungle.

At a distance, I spotted another giraffe. It was almost half-past nine when Carlos parked the vehicle near a massive lake and offered us coffee and sandwiches. At a distance, the water shimmered in the morning light, and I zoomed in with my camera to capture the pod of pelicans gliding across its surface.

“You don’t have lions here?” Pishi asked, a bit of impatience in her voice. “How many do you want to see, Mamma?” Kennith laughed. “We will see now. They are lazy animals!”

“These are great white pelicans. You only find them in Kruger and the KwaZulu region,” Carlos shared as a quick fact. More dusty roads followed, and by now, zebras and antelopes had become common sightings. We spotted a martial eagle perched at a distance. Two rhinos crossed our path. A herd of Cape buffaloes was grazing at another spot.

And then, my heart skipped a beat.

I had my first glimpse of the king of the jungle, lying down at a distance. “There are about five or six of them!” Kennith said. Pishi’s face lit up with excitement. Carlos slowed down, and our vehicle crossed the pack of lions lying on the side of the road, completely unbothered by the world. “These are things you see on Animal Planet or Nat Geo”, I thought to myself, as I felt the goosebumps once again.

The thrill of the game drive had well and truly sunk in!

It was nearly noon, and we had spotted four of the Big Five of South Africa — lions, elephants, rhinos and Cape buffaloes. The only one remaining was the leopard, which, as Carlos had told us, was not so easily seen. As he drove towards Southern Camp, where an alfresco lunch was waiting for us, we spotted a lone male lion sleeping near a kill, a half-eaten Cape eland. There were other jeeps in the area, everyone trying to get a glimpse of the scene.

An hour’s break followed, with a lavish lunch of grilled fish (Cape hake, a very popular catch in South Africa) served with salad, breads, assorted butter, and fresh fruits. And, of course, a glass of sparkling wine to go with it.

The Jungle Slows Down in the Afternoon

The afternoon drive, as Carlos had mentioned, was for a shorter period. And after that lunch, Pishi and I had found a new burst of energy. We drove past the sleeping lion and then spotted two elephants who were busy pooping! We saw hundreds of birds of different species, including Cape rockjumpers, blue cranes, and lilac-breasted rollers, to name a few.

I felt that the sound of the jungle changes with the day. The morning drive is filled with more sounds: birds chirping, animal calls, and the general hum of life waking up. But in the afternoon, as the sun gets harsher, life in the jungle seems to slow down.

As we drove, more giraffes and elephants appeared. And suddenly, Carlos stopped the car.

Both Carlos and Kennith grabbed their binoculars, trying to see something, and spoke to each other in their local language. I could barely understand what was happening, but my heart started beating faster.

“Would we see a chase? A lioness with cubs?” My anticipation knew no bounds. But I also knew that the jungle surprises you in ways you can never imagine.

There was a leopard, sitting on a rock, wounded and bleeding.

“There must have been a territorial fight,” Kennith said. “Its ear is torn, and it’s badly wounded.” Carlos slowly started driving towards the rock. By now, I could get a proper look at the slender cat — its shiny body, its face tense with pain, a low growl escaping as it sat there. We watched it from a safe distance before it started moving. It came closer to our vehicle and began walking right in front of our jeep.

I was startled by nature’s magic.

Carlos slowly rolled the wheels behind it.

We followed the leopard for nearly ten minutes before it jumped behind a bush and disappeared. Carlos took out his walkie-talkie and informed the field rangers about the leopard and the location where we had spotted it. Later, I got to know that Kapama Reserve has a dedicated team of rangers and vets who provide emergency darting, medical treatment, and wound care to the wildlife in the region.

It was a sobering end to what had otherwise been an exhilarating day.

Twelve Hours in the Wild

Around 4 pm, we ended our game drive and returned to Southern Camp. “We’ll see you for dinner,” Carlos said before leaving.

Back in our room, overlooking the forest trails, I couldn’t stop thinking about the wounded leopard. For Pishi, the adventure was simpler; she had come to South Africa wanting to see lions, and the moment we spotted them, she knew the journey was worth it. For me, the thrill was in everything around the sightings: the dusty roads, the sudden slowing of the vehicle, the conversations with Carlos and the stories he shared, and never knowing what might appear around the next turn.

The jungle offered no script. Just twelve hours of anticipation, surprise, and discovery. And perhaps the real adventure lies in the uncertainty — every bend in the track holding the possibility of something entirely unexpected.