Tswalu Kalahari

An entire week of driven grouse shoots has come to an end. And what a week it was! I have been in the very privileged position of being a loader – that is I get to sit in a cosy butt out of the wind and rain enjoying watching the birds fly over and every now and again casually passing a cartridge to the chap shooting. Mmm… not quite the way it works. All the loaders gather at the lodge in the morning where we collect our guns, cartridges and butt sticks and load them into the Landrovers. When the guests are ready (after breakfast, tea, coffee, a cigarette, some more tea and another couple of cigarettes) we head out to where the shoot will take place.

It’s a day away from the end of August and my time here has flown past, for during the past three weeks I’ve had the chance of experiencing wonderful country style highland cooking.

Early morning, my favourite time of the day starts with a beautiful view over the Glen, soft mist rolling over the purple heather hills and shy rays of sunlight touching every shade of green you can imagine.

Another stunning day spent out on the moors. The object of the day was to try and get a stag (the first for the guest) out on Mark’s beat – which incidentally borders on Balmoral, the Queens estate. Mark and I and the young lad headed out in the Landy along with Kevin and Gus who were on hand to help load the stag in the event we were lucky enough to get one. With many of the animals being far away from roads and owing to the rugged, boggy nature of the terrain, many of the animals would be extremely difficult to recover were it not for the “back-up” team. Using a vehicle known as an Argo – a small, eight wheeled all terrain unit – the stag is taken to the nearest good access road where the Landrover would be waiting after which it gets taken down to the larder for processing.

Fred kindly gave me the day off today as the guests had headed down to Edinburgh to see the festival. After a kitchen clean-up Theresa and I headed off to the coast for a meal and some bird watching arriving in the seaside town of Arbroath at about one in the afternoon. After a bit of scrounging around for somewhere to eat we found a spot close to the harbour where we managed to find some fare while also doing some birding with a redshank being a new one for us along with the usual herring gulls and eiders. We then took a leisurely drive for about 12 miles up the coast to Montrose to get some groceries for the lodge. Having been annihilated by midges the previous day while fishing with the guests I was determined to track down a “midgie net”.

I started the day off with a hearty breakfast (Adam and Theresa in the kitchen work really hard and consistently produce amazing food both for the guests and the staff) and a hot mug of Earl Grey tea – not a bad start for anyone. I was really looking forward to the day as always – the guests were planning on having a session of clay pigeon shooting in the morning followed by some fly fishing along the river in the afternoon. No need for anyone to hold their breath in the hope that my skills with a shotgun have vastly improved in the week since the last shoot.

I spent a most entertaining day out on the moor today. The current guests have brought the most amazing English pointer (“Nguni” is his name) with them. The catch being that said hound is still very young and has not yet been trained to the point where he can be let off a leash and still be controlled. The object for the day was to do a walk and point on grouse and hopefully bag a couple for the day. Fred’s daughter Laura brought her dogs along for the day as they are trained to point and flush respectively and they work really well on the walk-ups for grouse. And then there was Nguni…

This weekend turned out to be rather relaxing (from Saturday afternoon at least) with Theresa and I taking a slow drive along the coast to Montrose while doing birding along the way. Our Scotland tally so far is 63 species which is not too bad all things considered and bearing in mind that almost all of these birds are new to us. I just can’t get past the fact that I am seeing species in Scotland that look almost exactly the same as many of our African species – a Redstart and a Rock thrush for instance appear almost identical.

Another day at the grouse. Andy had mentioned to me previously that if you don’t like the weather in Scotland, one only has to wait twenty minutes. And as the adage goes, many a true word is spoken in jest. We had any number of seasons while out on the moors today. While having a reasonable walk up to the first line of butts we were tracked by clear, sunny weather with a light breeze. Winding our way along towards the second drive we had a good breeze with cloud cover. After devouring our lunches like any decent pack of wolves we advanced on the third line with a subtle warning of impending rain, the wind picking up and clouds swirling along not-so-distant hills.

Today we awoke to a glen (valley) filled with mist and drizzle – funny that for Scotland… We trooped off to the gunroom, filled our gun bags with cartridges, slipped the shotguns into their cases and headed back to the Landies to await Fred’s verdict on whether or not we will be heading into the moors (hills) to do another grouse drive with the guests. As it seemed that the mist was lifting towards the tops of the hills and the drizzle had stopped Fred decided that we would head out and at least attempt the drives before the weather again changed tack. What we didn’t take into account was the wind – it was screaming like a banshee along the ridges and as the teams hunkered down behind the butts I was wondering how the grouse would react to being put up in this wind.

Wednesday turned out to be really relaxed day after Fred gave the chaps the morning off. Theresa and I were invited by Charlie (husband to Daphne the chef) to have lunch with him and some friends in Edzell. After gorging ourselves on some totally delicious food and indulging in good conversation we headed back up the Glen and watched a superb display of marksmanship at a friendly clay pigeon shoot between the guests and the keepers. Excellent shooting from both sides, but yes, the keepers did win and rather convincingly too. It is only once a person has been to clay pigeon shoot and watched or perhaps even participated that one can appreciate the skill involved in the sport. I would comfortably miss a barn door at ten paces while the Invermark keepers are really superb shots.

Back to the grouse! Braving the midge masses I met Fred at the armoury so that I could top-up my ammunition pouches and get the shotguns, once again marveling at the history that lies within the very heart of Invermark. Within the armoury there is a framed record of the numbers of every grouse, hind and stag season from Invermark since 1906 until the present time. There are surely very few places that have such record kept and it’s a privilege to be able to be a part (even a very small one!) of that historical record. Having experienced a little of grouse, stags and hinds and understanding the incredible amount of man hours, blood, sweat and tears that is inherently imbedded in that framed document within The Invermark armoury, once again brings it home to me as to how special this whole experience is and will be for both me and Theresa.

Having a successful day of grouse shooting behind us, some of the guests were given the opportunity of trying for a stag again. I was teamed up with Mark and a young couple from London and after a brief turn at the shooting range to make sure the rifle was sighted in we headed off to Marks beat to see what the day would produce. On the way up the hillside in the Landrover we stopped at the stables so as to get our trusty steed Max saddled up and ready.

The day dawned cool and grey (funny that!) and as usual we met with the guests at the lodge after breakfast, But today was to be different from the others. With yesterday having been the “Glorious 12th” – traditionally the start of the grouse season in Scotland – we were destined to head to the moors to try get some shooting in for the guests.

And so Theresa and I have finally made it back to the land of Thistle and Haggis – and you would have to travel far and wide to find a bonnier place! And what an unbelievable change Invermark is! Not even a sprinkling of snow to be seen anywhere – all around is lush and green with flowers of infinite variety of shape and colour.

Half of me feels devastated at the thought, the other half is longing to be back home with Louise and Jack. And both halves have a hangover.
My flight out isn’t until mid-afternoon so I can take my time over breakfast and packing. When I eventually leave, I’m surprised to see Barry and Josh still waiting to be picked up at the crossroads. Wouter or Richard should have been past an hour ago. It MUST have been a good braai….

The reason for our hurry (and the sirloin) is that I’m throwing a braai tonight and kick-off is 7pm! It’s my last day at Tswalu and I want to do something to thank everyone for all their kindness and support over our two visits. Gus has offered his house as a venue and I’ve accepted- with some trepidation.

On the way there, we stop to look at the flamingoes which colonise a dam on the outskirts of town. With the sun behind us we get the full impact of 35,000 of the shocking pink birds. We can hardly take our eyes off them, except to watch out and avert the bigger shock of a full impact from a train, seeing as our viewpoint is the railway track. From there we go to to see Kimberley’s Big Hole…

We students are all a-tizzy this morning; we’re going on a field trip. We have overnight bags packed, bedding , lots of warm clothes and- most importantly- snacks. Richard picks us up and we get to the kraal sharp. A little while later and we’re hitting the open road. Gus is driving and we’ve somehow managed to fit Richard, Pat, Barry, Josh and myself and our inordinate amount of baggage into this people carrier. It looks like a mobile record-attempt.

We have to travel over 30km to rendezvous with the catch team and by the time we get there, those of us on the back are chattering with the cold. Within 5 minutes the sun peeks over the peaks and our world is bathed in orange light. With the red sand redder than ever and every tree, bush and blade of grass glowing the same colour it’s like we’ve just driven the cruiser to Mars. (More images from ‘Grease’ again, damn it.)