Safari with crackles and plinks

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I had prepared carefully for my first ever safari. I had my camera with its large lens for wildlife photography; a broad-brimmed hat to protect against the last of the day's rays; and sensible shoes in case we were to get off the vehicle and walk.

Getting excited about possible wildlife sightings - lions hunting, elephants marauding, hippos wallowing - I climbed into the land cruiser in my khaki shirt and beige trousers.

The vehicle was full. There were five other guests as well as Matt, my husband, and I. As the last people to arrive, Matt and I were separated. He sat in the back with a Canadian couple, and I was in the middle seat with two young Ukranians. We all said "Hello".

Our guide, Eric, and tracker, Prem, introduced themselves. Eric was a gregarious man with a huge smile. Prem was quieter, perceptive and focused.

Off we set on our tour of Balule Nature Reserve on the western end of Greater Kruger National Park. The terrain was hilly and covered with acacia scrub, grasses and marula trees, all golden under the late afternoon sunlight.

It was not long before we came across impala, dainty tawny antelopes with small horns. We stopped to photograph them.

"Wow!" exclaimed Matt and I as the impala almost floated across the trail in front of us to merge with the undergrowth.

The other guests laughed at our enthusiasm. "You see them all the time, they're really common," the Canadian guy informed us.

As we drove past shrubs up which squirrels scuttled and saw a giraffe sheltering beneath a tree on the other side of the river, I was constantly disturbed by a strange noise: a dull, tinny beat with a crackling sound over the top of it. What was it? I realised my neighbour, the Ukranian woman, was listening to her music system with leaking earphones.

I did a double-take. We were in one of the most amazing places on the planet, surrounded by wildlife, and she was absorbed in cruddy Eastern European techno pop! What was wrong with her?

Reminding myself that I was on holiday and everyone was entitled to enjoy themselves in their own way, I focused on the environment instead, and got very excited when we saw a black rhino and her calf lurking in the tall grasses beside the track. The adult rhino was powerful and solid, yet moved gracefully through the undergrowth. The baby was downright cute.

In the land cruiser, my neighbour swayed slightly to the left and right as the "plink urkkkkk plink" sound continued.

Suddenly, we came across a lioness standing on the brow of a hill. She was a golden goddess, full of power. With a snarl, she ran down the slope and we followed, ending up on a river bank where two more lionesses and two young lions were watching a herd of kudu splash their way to the opposite shore.

Our lioness joined them, ambling nonchalantly to the edge of the water, muscles rippling beneath amber fur.

"Why don't they chase the antelopes?" Matt asked our guide.

"They're not hungry," Eric replied. "They can live for five or six days without food. And, they do most of their hunting at night. They may catch up with the kudu later."

As the light purpled, the lions became more relaxed, lying full length on the sand and yawning, their tails constantly waving away flies. They were quite happy for our vehicle to approach them so we could take photographs. It was thrilling.

My neighbour checked her messages on her mobile phone.

Leaving the lions in peace, we rattled off over logs and sand to a viewpoint where we saw the huge orange ball of the sun set slowly behind the Drakensburg Ranges. It was good to get off the vehicle, stretch our legs and have a drink.

Then we drove for a while longer, with Prem spotlighting the terrain for sightings of night animals. No luck, though it was a lovely drive past bushes and trees silhouetted against the starry sky, the peace punctuated by my neighbour yelling jovially at her boyfriend in Ukranian and his mumbled replies.

We stopped beside a pool full of singing frogs, who sounded much better than the drivel being played by my neighbour, and our guide pointed out the constellations of the southern hemisphere: Orion, Scorpio, the Southern Cross.

Eric taught us an African song about the animals, and sang the verse in his fine baritone. We all yelled the two-word constantly-repeated chorus which sounded like "Himhe Hallelujah." It was fun, especially as my neighbour turned her music off.

The air smelt of vegetation, the frogs serenaded us, and the Milky Way shimmered with a pale pink light.

I was going to do it all again tomorrow, and I could hardly wait. It felt so good to be alive.

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