Where Madikwe stole a piece of my soul and FNB paid for the Jameson.
Winter is here, folks. This morning was a teeth-clenching four degrees in Madikwe. Four. The kind of cold where your fingers stop functioning halfway through a radio call and your soul briefly considers early retirement… and even the lions look annoyed to be awake.
Fortunately, at this exact moment, I am in a beautifully climate-controlled airport lounge with smooth jazz whispering through the background and a rather excellent glass of Jameson Select Reserve keeping the frostbite at bay. Courtesy of FNB, naturally. Thank you kindly to the banking industry for briefly allowing me to pretend I’m financially responsible.Which is ironic, because five minutes inside an airport and the price of a sandwich immediately disproves that theory.
Yes ladies and gentlemen, it is that time again. I am officially on leave and heading off to Cape Town. Not for the sunshine, mind you, because apparently the weather across South Africa has recently been designed by a committee of emotionally unstable thunderstorms. It’s been as temperamental as a… well… let’s not finish that sentence if we value our survival. One moment sunshine, the next moment Noah starts warming up the boat.
Still, sitting here with my fine Irish companion in hand — thanks Jameson — I can’t help but feel slightly overwhelmed. The last six weeks have been absolute madness. I’ve just spent my first proper stretch working in Madikwe and it’s been pedal to the metal from the word go. Guests, sightings, long days, cold mornings, late nights, radio chatter, dust, coffee, repeat. At one point I’m fairly certain I started identifying people purely by their coffee orders and preferred lion species.
No real time to stop and look back at it all.
So, here goes.
We left off last time with introductions to Madikwe and a fair amount of excitement. Since then I’ve spent countless hours traversing the reserve, met some incredible guests, and experienced what can only be described as the full Madikwe package.
And after more than a month there, what do I think?
Well for starters — I’m bloody tired, but bloody grateful.
Ever since I first heard about Madikwe, it’s been one of those places. A reserve whispered about with that slightly mythical tone guides tend to use when talking about somewhere genuinely special. Then later, when I became a guide myself, it became a place I dreamed of working in one day.
And somehow, against all reasonable odds and probably several administrative errors, that dream became reality.
Honestly? It’s everything people say it is.
If you visit as a guest, you’ll love it. If you work there, you’ll love it. It really is that good. Sightings are more consistent than many of the other places I’ve worked, but more importantly, the quality of the sightings is extraordinary.
Madikwe allows controlled off-roading — properly managed, respectful, ethical — which means you can safely position yourself right in the thick of the action. Close enough to hear bones crunching and your insurance excess quietly sweating in the background. In places like the Kruger, seeing a lion hunt from beginning to end is a once-in-a-lifetime sighting.
In Madikwe? With a bit of patience, good timing, and a guide who isn’t entirely asleep behind the wheel, it can happen once a month. Which still sounds made up, frankly.
What a fortunate experience.
Before coming to Madikwe, I had what can only be described as a slightly unhealthy obsession with leopards. And don’t get me wrong — leopards are still magnificent. Beautiful. Elegant. Dramatic. Essentially the supermodels of the bushveld. Beautiful, dramatic, and fully aware of how attractive they are.
But Madikwe has wild dogs.
And not just wild dogs exist somewhere vaguely in the reserve wild dogs. I mean proper sightings. Following them through the bush off-road, watching them communicate, watching hunts unfold in real time — occasionally successfully — seeing the chaos, intelligence and teamwork up close.
And suddenly my brain just went: “Ah yes… THESE things.”
Leopards are still fantastic and all… but come on. Wild dogs? Absolute lunatics. Imagine a football hooligan convention with better teamwork.
The landscapes don’t help either. The vistas in Madikwe are surreal. Open grasslands melting into rocky ridges, leadwood trees catching the first light of morning, dust hanging in golden air like something out of a documentary narrated by a British man with strong opinions about V8 engines.
And the lighting for photography? Completely unfair. Half the time it feels like the reserve itself is showing off. Meanwhile you’re standing there trying to convince yourself you suddenly understand camera settings.
Madikwe genuinely gets an 11/10 from me. And I mean that wholeheartedly.
That said… I am tired.
The kind of tired where your body no longer knows what day it is and your coffee intake starts entering legally questionable territory. At this point my bloodstream is probably 40% caffeine and mild panic. So I’m going to enjoy this leave. I’m going to enjoy Cape Town, the ocean, some decent food, and seeing the people I love.
But if I’m honest, I left a little piece of myself behind in Madikwe.
Probably somewhere on a cold morning road following wild dogs into the sunrise. Cold hands, flat coffee, dust in my teeth and absolutely no desire to be anywhere else.
Catch you in the next one.
Regards,
from a freezing airport lounge with free whiskey.