Africa: Ark attack

Fresh cheetah footprints are found on the way back to camp. Photo / Liz Light

It's a golden morning. The winter grass is dry and tawny, the sandy tracks are the colour of honey and the low sun is backlighting trees with a golden glow. Bush birds are tweeting and seven of us wander around in circles, it seems, in a tight crocodile line.

Sam, the ranger, is in front with his gun ready. Five Walking Safari guests, including me, creep along behind him and Apologise, the tracker (he says his name relates to something between his parents the night he was conceived) is rearguard.

We are tracking rhino as part of a three-day Walking Safari in Phinda, a 20,000ha conservation park three hours' drive north of Durban in South Africa.

I'm sceptical of finding a rhino. In these thousands of hectares of bush and scrubby grassland there are only 50 rhinos so it seems the odds aren't good, but it's a nice morning and I'm enjoying the walk.

Then Sam finds footprints. Rhino feet are as big as a dinner plates and the imprint is that of a large dimpled pincushion with three scallop-shell edges.

Sam and Apologise examine and confer, then Sam announces that not one but three rhinos have recently passed this way.

Now we are on track and soon come across a large mound of rhino poop. Sam pokes his index finger into the middle of it then pulls it out and sniffs it.

He kicks the light crust off the top and lays the back of his hand on the green glistening glob. He pronounces that the smell indicates it's from a male and the temperature shows it's fresh - just one to two hours since the animals passed.

Sam tells us to keep close together, walk quietly and not speak. He feels the rhinos are nearby and it's important we find them, then circle around and get downwind of them.

Rhinos don't have great sight but have brilliant senses of sound and smell. They grow to weigh more than 2000kg and, despite their size, they are fast and agile. They have two horns on the front of their head, one behind the other. The front one, their lethal weapon, grows to be a metre long and they use it to kill enemies with skill. They also pack a many-tonned punch with their sturdy legs.

Apologise, stealthy as a leopard, disappears into the trees. We wait quietly, then we hear a bird call - it's Apologise calling to Sam. He has found our quarry.

We creep forward until we are 40m from the rhinos and, at first, I see nothing but bush dappled with sunlight. The rhinos are so big they seem like a wall of grey in the undergrowth. I spot the details rather than the whole animals; I see a tasselled tail in the middle of an enormous grey wrinkled bottom, an ear twitching and a leg wider than the tree trunk next to it.

They browse in the bushes, oblivious to us. I hardly dare breathe. It's thrilling to be so close to these strange beasts when they are happily at home in their natural habitat.

During the two-hour walk back to camp, Sam points out footprints on the sandy path - a cheetah passed this way in the early morning, as did a lion, and Sam shows us the difference between the hoof prints of the 12 species of antelope-type ungulates that live in Phinda.

We learn about little things - butterflies, the lion ant which digs a hole in the sand and waits for other insects to fall into it - and the trees typical of this species-rich sand forest.

The giant, the Lebombo wattle, plays host to orchids and lichen and we see Marula trees, the fruit of which, after simmering in the sun for a few days, makes elephants tipsy and is used to make South Africa's famous Amarula liqueur.

Little things are fabulous but we want to see big things as well, so we head to the pan - a dry lake - in the safari wagon.

On the track there we come face-to-face with a grumpy male elephant who is not giving way to anything. Apologise throws the wagon into reverse and drives backwards at speed.

At the pan - in the dry season a grassland with clumps of scrubby bush - we see a cheetah on the prowl, a herd of zebras graze near a family of giraffes, and a warthog clan turn tail and run, their skinny tails sticking up like antennae.

As the sun sets Sam drives slowly over the savanna passing herds of wildebeest, impala and kudu. In just a few hours it seems we see most of the animals of the ark.

We don't get back to camp until after dark. Lamps hang in the trees and candles flicker in the dining area. Thembi, the hostess, has set the table with white linen and crystal glasses and it looks as fine as that of any flash hotel - better, actually, because it's under a tree.

Lucky, the chef, has been busy cooking most of the afternoon.

We sit down to spicy pumpkin soup and fresh-out-of-the-bush-oven bread. Meat, fish, prawns and spicy sausages are placed in a giant steel pan over the fire and sizzle away as salads and vegetable dishes appear on the table.

Our wine glasses are filled and, when we think we can't eat another morsel, Lucky serves a chocolate cake he baked during the afternoon.

I waddle off to my tent and am asleep in moments. I wake in the dead of night to the sound of lions roaring - nothing compares to camping in Africa.