A Call in the Wild

When your evening escort forgets you,  and you're armed only with a bottle of  Merlot.

One of the most magical parts of staying at Moditlo Private Game Lodge is that the wildlife doesn't stop at the game drive. The lodge is unfenced, meaning you're quite literally sharing the African bush with its permanent residents.

It also means your luxury suite comes with a few unusual instructions.

Yes, there are king-sized beds, soaker tubs, butler service, gourmet dining and spa treatments. But there is also one very important rule:

Keep your doors and windows closed.   Not because of the lions.

Because of the baboons.

Apparently these furry opportunists have mastered the art of room service—helping themselves to anything left unattended. Cameras, sunglasses, cell phones... even clothing has been known to disappear into the bush. I couldn't help but picture a baboon proudly strutting through the trees wearing someone's underwear like a hat.

Fortunately, our troop of travellers escaped any major primate burglaries. One determined baboon did attempt to raid the breakfast buffet one morning, only to be outwitted by a staff member who placed a cushion featuring the face of a lion where the baboon could see it. Problem solved.

Who knew?

During daylight hours, guests can safely wander between their rooms and the main lodge by following an elevated boardwalk crossing a dry riverbed. Along the way it's not unusual to spot elephants, graceful antelope, baboons, or even the occasional buffalo strolling below.

Nighttime, however, is a different story.

Once darkness falls, guests are never to walk alone. Every trip between your room and the lodge requires a staff escort armed with a flashlight and considerably more local knowledge than the average tourist.

On one particular evening, our group returned from an unforgettable game drive. We'd finally completed our quest to see the Big Five after spotting a herd of rhinos silhouetted against the magnificent Drakensberg Mountains as the sun disappeared below the horizon.

Life couldn't have been better.

Charles, one of the lodge porters, escorted us safely back to our rooms before dinner. We arranged our pickup times, and I asked him to return for me at 7:30 p.m., giving me about forty minutes to freshen up while the rest of the group headed to the bar for pre-dinner drinks.

By 7:25 I was ready.   I'd also decided to bring along a lovely bottle of Merlot I'd received for my birthday to share with everyone over dinner.

At exactly 7:30, I peeked through the louvered door.    Nothing.

Just darkness... and my little porch light bravely illuminating about three square feet of Africa.

7:35.  Still nothing.

I cautiously stepped onto the deck, scanning the shadows.

Were those glowing eyes?   No.    Probably.

From somewhere across the river came the unmistakable sound of laughter from my friends enjoying cocktail hour.

7:40.    Now I was pacing.  How had theyforgotten me? On my birthday!

This escort system suddenly seemed ridiculous. I briefly considered making a run for it, but then remembered that lions, leopards, hyenas and assorted creatures with considerably larger teeth than mine were exactly why the escort system existed.

Instead, I stood outside clutching my bottle of Merlot like it was a defensive weapon.

If something charged me, I suppose I could always hit it over the head.

Or perhaps offer it a nice glass of wine.

Neither option seemed particularly reassuring.

By now I was thoroughly annoyed.

I crept down a few steps toward the boardwalk, straining to see the welcome bobbing beam of Charles's flashlight.           Nothing.

More laughter floated through the night.

Finally, in a moment of desperation—and what I considered remarkable bravery—I yelled into the African wilderness:

"HELP! Is anyone coming to get me?"

Silence.

So I yelled again.   Immediately something rustled in the bushes.

That was all the encouragement I needed.

I bolted back into my room, fumbled frantically with the lock, and watched nervously through the window.

It was now 7:50.

Just as I was about to admit defeat and press the emergency buzzer, I finally spotted it—a flashlight bouncing toward my room at a near sprint.

"Charles!" I called, relief quickly giving way to irritation. "Did you forget to come and get me?"

He smiled sheepishly.

"Yes, Madam. I was asked to help in the kitchen... and I forgot the time."

He assured me dinner hadn't started and that everyone was waiting.

When I finally reached the dining room, still muttering to myself, Grant explained that he'd asked our butler, Donald, almost half an hour earlier to send someone for me. A situation in the kitchen had required extra hands, and—as is common at many safari lodges—the staff simply stepped in wherever they were needed.

In all the excitement...

...they forgot about the guest sitting alone in the bush.

By then everyone was smiling.

Including me.

After all, this was Africa and it was my birthday.

And it simply meant I had a little catching up to do—with both the conversation and the Merlot.

Postscript

When I completed my post-trip report, I gently suggested that perhaps the lodge develop a backup system for collecting guests after dark.

Being stranded alone in the African bush wasn't exactly on my bucket list.

Although, in hindsight...    It certainly made for one memorable travel story.