Birdwatching trip report - Antarctic Pack Ice and South African Cape

Monday 18th November

The alarm clock is an hour out and we are not buzzed until 05.00 hours. That's an hour's daylight lost, in a day already too short to fit around the frantic itinerary. Not the best of starts. Within minutes we are speeding north, towards the West Coast National Park, on a quiet country road. The tarmac winds its way through undulating cereal fields and blocks of low, dry scrub.

Quite by accident we pass a small sign announcing the presence of Tinie Versfeld Wildflower Reserve. The name rings a bell from the site guide so we make an emergency stop to investigate further. The Reserve consists of nothing more than a large meadow at the roadside, but this is our first formal birding stop in South Africa and the ticks come thick and fast. A Cape Longclaw has the accolade of first passerine tick of the trip, this smart pipit displaying bright yellow underparts and warm orange throat. High in the sky a Cloud Cisticola performs it's songflight on ridiculously small, whirring wings and a host of other padders include Cape Bulbul, Pied Starling and Southern Red Bishop.

Our late start to the day causes an abandonment of Yzerfontein Salt Pans, which were to have been our first stop, and instead we travel the short distance to the West Coast National Park. Upon passing through the entrance gate we find ourselves inside a vast, sprawling reserve of strandveld-covered, rolling slopes, which stretch down to a huge, shallow lagoon. The low, dry strandveld shrubs are alive with birds, the majority of which are new species to us. Bright sulphur-yellow Bokmakieries, smart black-faced Cape Sparrows and dull Southern Double-collared Sunbirds, none of which seem to be in breeding plumage. As we drive further down the road we flush Karoo Lark and both Cape and Grey-winged Francolins. A couple of Steenbok feed close to the road, small attractive antelope with distinctive black-patterned ears. This really is foreign birding at it's best, made all the more pleasurable after being cooped-up on a boat for the last seventeen days.

The endemic White-backed Mousebird, brightly plumaged Yellow Canary and a rather skulking Chestnut-vented Titbabbler appear one after another and it's a struggle to keep up with the note-taking, after days of adding a petrel an hour. As we descend towards the vast, saltmarsh circled lagoon a dark raptor forces an emergency stop. Seconds later a superb Black Harrier raises above the reedbed, to quarter the saltmarsh right beside our vantagepoint. White rump and undersides to flight feathers contrast with sooty black plumage to make this endemic species one of the easiest raptors to identify.

We are amazed to find literally hundreds of Black-shouldered Kites in the vicinity of the lagoon, while a walk down to the water's edge brings Levaillant's Cisticola and a spectacular showing of waterbirds. Thousands of waders throng the mud, many of which are wintering Palearctic species such as Whimbrel, Curlew Sandpiper, Ruff and Avocet. Amongst these familiar birds we pick out some local species such as Kittlitz's and White-fronted Plover, as well as larger goodies like Lesser Flamingo and Cape Shelduck.

With such a packed itinerary we need to keep a close eye on the watch and all too soon it's time to set off north for our next destination. The fun at the Park hasn't finished yet, however. We round a bend and are met with the amazing sight of two Southern Black Korhaans in high display flight, with bright yellow legs dangling below jet-black bellies. They land in the thick strandveld and are lost to view, but a Kilometre further another is encountered crossing the road. We pull up alongside and enjoy fantastic close views of this stunning little endemic bustard which proceeds to raise it's crown feathers and perform a display right beside the car. Grey-backed Cisticola, Karoo Prinia and Cape Bunting are plucked from the scrub before we leave the Park's confines and head back into open farmland.

The scenic coast road winds north and takes us through small villages consisting of plush modern bungalows nestling on green hillsides, which roll down to the blue inlets of the Atlantic. This seems an idyllic setting with a very civilised and relaxed atmosphere. It's very reminiscent of the Australian State of Victoria, both in climate and environment, and seems a million miles from the cramped poverty of Cape Town's sprawling shantytowns.

As we near the small coastal town of Saldanha a rapid U-turn is necessary to check out a tortoise crossing the busy road. We retrieve the animal in the nick of time, from a close encounter with a Pirelli, and identify it as a rare endemic Angulate Tortoise. Thoroughly photographed, it is sent on its way a considerable distance from the tarmac.

Beside the road at this point is a vast mineral processing plant whose rusty brown structure nestles between the dry hills. Such heavy industrial sites can be seen dotted right across the west and are an indication of the country's vast mineral wealth.

We pass through the bustling little town of Saldanha and eventually find the road out to our cormorant site. A gravel track leads to a headland of lichen-painted boulders and wild flowers; lashed by rolling, blue Atlantic breakers. This scenic spot is the chosen home of a colony of Bank Cormorants and we spend some time photographing this declining endemic at close range. Sickle-winged Chat and a Little Grey Mongoose share the site with the cormorants as do a small group of African Penguins, the first that we have seen out of the water.

Back in Saldanha we call at a very well appointed supermarket to stock up on provisions, including some of the finest locally grown fruit imaginable. Saldanha's wide main street is lined on either side by small family-run shops and again the friendly, local atmosphere is very Australian in nature.

Still mindful of the very limited time on our hands, we head north to the dry farmland around Paternoster. An hour in the pale, dusty soil here adds Thick-billed and Grey-backed Sparrow-Larks to our rapidly growing list, plus White-throated Canary, Karoo Scrub Robin and Karoo Bush Rat. A 'cat' sitting on a roadside rock pile turns into a Spotted Eagle Owl, when given a close inspection, before we speed off north towards Velddrif.

The salt pans beside the Berg River, just south of Velddrif, are our stakeout for Chestnut-banded Plover, a very localised wading bird of hot saline environments. In the book it sounds very easy, but we have been driving the perimeters of the saltpans for nearly two hours before we eventually pick out the target. We are very pleased to see that it's a male Chestnut-banded Plover, very pale grey above with contrasting deep chestnut breast band and ear coverts. What a relief!

It's now time to get some serious miles under the belt as the final site for the day is well to the north. The roads are first class, straight and well paved, and the lack of traffic means that we eat up the miles. Telephone pole-mounted Jackal Buzzards are ticked at high speed as we whiz past the dry cereal fields. Further north we enter a zone of lush green irrigated vineyards where signs offer wine tasting and tours. It would be nice, but we have birds to see and ignore the distractions.

Soon the realm of Man's influence on the land is left behind and we enter the dry expanses of the 'Succulent Karoo' vegetation zone. This vast semi-desert area is characterised by open stony plains, scattered shrubs and, of course, small succulent plants. Huge rocky escarpments with dramatic eroded forms back the arid, flat-bottomed plains, just like those, which often feature in American Western movies, flanking Clint Eastwood.

It's early evening before we reach the tiny rural settlement of Kamieskroon, where we leave the main arterial N7 road and head east into the hills. After spending the afternoon at a steady hundred miles per hour it's quite a shock to hit the winding dirt roads that lead towards Gamoep, but the scenery is wonderful and birdlife prolific. A small clearing made to support domestic livestock has been adopted by a large flock of Damara Canaries and some careful scanning reveals a couple of good candidates for Black-headed Canary. The range of intermediate birds does lead one to wonder about the validity of this species as a full 'split', however.

We continue through the tall sandstone peaks, constantly changing level and direction and constantly seeing new birds. Cape Glossy Starling, Karoo Chat and Mountain Wheatear are all seen before the real star birds appear: a pair of Ludwig's Bustards that fly low along a valley. These huge nomadic bustards frequent the dryer Karoo and make a magnificent sight as they beat slowly past in the setting sunlight.

The sandstone hillsides are tinged pink by the last rays of the Sun, and as the fiery ball finally sinks from view the huge silver disk of a bright full moon replaces it. As we drive on the moonlight illuminates our surroundings like day and we can clearly see the weird shapes of trees that resemble miniature palm-topped boababs punctuating the hillsides.

When we arrive at Gamoep we find that the 'town' consists of just one house, but have some fairly explicit directions to our overnight accommodation and carry on into the night. The hills end abruptly and give way to a flat stony plain. Progress is more rapid on the straight road, but is periodically interrupted by Cape Hares that dart suicidally in front of the speeding car. Next obstacle is a Northern Black Korhaan that has decided to roost in the middle of the road and we have to take severe evasive action to avoid flattening a tick!

In the middle of nowhere we finally find a sign hanging from a gate in the sheep-proof fencing which announces our arrival at 'Diepvlei'. The gate is swung open, beneath a million stars, and we head towards a farmhouse light beckoning in the distance. Vernon Miller invites us into his guesthouse, which had been booked via the Internet prior to our departure. It's a huge colonial-style residence and we are invited to join Vernon for an indoor braai where he enlightens us with his somewhat controversial opinions on his county's political situation.

It's already 23.00 hours when we remind Vernon of our interest in a spotlighting drive to search for mammals around his farm. He is happy to oblige and minutes later we are in the back of his pickup, along with his spotlight-toting ladyfriend and an attendant gate-opener. We have only been bumping along for fifteen minutes, when a large pale shape materialises in the spotlight beam. It's a huge beast, pale-pink in colour, and not unlike a heavy-legged domestic pig in many respects. When seen from the front, however, all similarities immediately cease. It sports a long, blunt-ended snout and ridiculous tall, pointed ears. It is, of course, an Aardvark. This totally bizarre creature has a wide distribution in southern Africa, but is notoriously difficult to see and we count ourselves as incredibly fortunate to be blessed with this encounter. We follow this weird-and-wonderful termite eater for some minutes, as it forages in the dry pastureland, before it plods off into the night in search of its next meal. Another unexpected, unforgettable moment and certainly one of the highlights of the entire trip.

We continue our tour of the farmland and encounter a number of very impressive Bat-eared Foxes, some at close range. Black-backed Jackal, Steenbok and another roosting Northern Black Korhaan complete our tally, then it's off to bed for a couple of hour's sleep before an early alarm. It's hard to remember where we were at the start of the day; but then no one said that this was going to be a holiday!

Tuesday 19th November

The stars are still shining when we leave the farm and head east along the dirt road towards Pofadder and Koa Dunes. It is only half an hour's drive to our next destination and daylight is chasing away the desert night when we spot a small group of Springboks feeding in the roadside scrub. These really are stunning little antelope, which have a tiny range within the barren Nama Karoo of northern-most South Africa and southern Namibia. Obviously very wary, they soon spring away through the bush, displaying bold black-and-white markings to hind-parts developed to confuse pursuing predators.

We arrive at the brick-red Koa Dunes just in time to see the sun rise from behind the high sand ridges. This is a very special habitat and it is difficult to imagine how this Kilometre wide ribbon of red sand has been built up in isolation amongst the endless gravely plains.

As the sun rises hundreds of Namaqua Sandgrouse drop from the skies to drink at the lone cattle trough beside the dunes. Their bubbling calls echo all around and with the car strategically positioned we can film and photograph the thirsty birds to our hearts content. This is the only water for miles around, causing Lark-like Buntings and Grey-backed Finch-Larks to flock in great numbers.

The sandgrouse are wonderful, but not our target at this site, and we stride out into the fine red sand and coarse grass of the dunes in search of scarcer species. First new bird is the delicately marked Scaly-feathered Finch, closely followed by Spike-heeled Lark. Getting our lark-eyes in, we identify a pair of Fawn-coloured Larks that scurry through the dunes and next a Rufous-eared Warbler, a species as distinctive as its name suggests.

The fine red sand bears the marks of hundreds of feet, of many different sizes, which have scampered, hopped and run over its surface since it was last smoothed by the wind. It's fascinating to study these impressions and we have plenty of time to do so, as it takes us two hours of searching before we find our ultimate goal at this site. Red Lark is a little-known bird, whose nest was first discovered as recently as 1986, and which has a tiny range restricted to the Bushmanland region of the Nama Karoo. The red 'dunes form' also happens to be one of the most strikingly marked larks around and we are therefore delighted when a male raises up in songflight above us. When it descends back to earth its brick red, dune-coloured, upperparts and heavily streaked black breast are scoped with relish.

More than happy with our work we travel a little way east towards our next site, seeing Southern Pale-Chanting Goshawk, Pygmy Falcon and Short-toed Rock-Thrush en route, every species perched prominently on a roadside telegraph pole. We stop off at a huge Sociable Weaver colony, which also hangs from a telegraph pole. The structure looks more like a large haystack than a bird's nest, measuring probably fifteen feet high and ten feet in diameter, yet occupied by a colony of birds no bigger than House Sparrows. The Sociable Weavers themselves are extremely smart birds, pale grey and white with black mask and intricate vermiculations on nape and flanks.

Our next birding site is a rocky gorge, en route to Pofadder, described to us by Ian Sinclair. It's late morning and getting very hot but we don't have the luxury of time on our hands, which would permit a visit at a cooler time of day. We set off towards the cliff face, still enjoying the luxury of birding in a new habitat, and we continue to see new birds at an alarming rate. Familiar Chat, Black-chested Prinia, Neddicky and Long-billed Crombec are all additions to the list. A large flock of attractive Pale-winged Starlings feed in a fruiting tree, alongside Acacia Pied Barbet and Lanyard's Titbabbler. Our main target at this site is the localised Cinnamon-breasted Warbler and a brief playback of it's taped call at the head of the gorge prompts an instant response. Within seconds a chocolate-brown male, with neat chestnut breastband, is singing from a rock right beside us.

Mission accomplished we set off to Pofadder adding a smart black-and-white Dusky Sunbird and Tractrac Chat to our rapidly growing tally before we reach the town. Pofadder really is a one-horse town, set in the middle of nowhere. We drive down the main street to find the place virtually deserted and seemingly enjoying a siesta. Eventually we track down Mrs Wickens, owner of the town's 'Spa' supermarket and extremely friendly lady, who shows us to a vacant chalet. After just three hours sleep the previous night the siesta suddenly seems like a good idea and we find time for a quick forty winks.

By 14.30 hours we're back on the road, this time travelling north towards the Orange River and Namibian border. We make our way through dry grassy plains and dark volcanic outcrops, adding just Karoo Long-billed Lark in this hot and barren environment. After our journey through such uninviting terrain, the lush green Orange River Valley appears as a stark contrast and provides a veritable bird-injection. When we reach the Orange River, close to the town of Onseepkans, we take the road to the west making frequent birding stops as we go. Red-eyed Bulbul, Southern Grey-headed Sparrow and Black-throated Canary are all new birds and Ground Squirrel a new mammal. Orange River White-Eye, with its distinctive warm peachy flanks, has a tiny range but is common in the riparian vegetation. Southern Masked Weaver, African Reed Warbler and Cape Robin Chat are also ticks and we are particularly pleased to catch up with the endemic Red-faced Mousebird, which completes the mousebird set.

Driving back to Pofadder we spotlight every likely looking telegraph pole with the lamp, which we purchased yesterday. A Spotted Eagle Owl is a bonus, but Cape Eagle Owl predictably eludes us. Back in town we make a beeline for the recommended 'Dixon's Café', huge appetites to pacify. A rather strange conversation with Mrs Dixon follows. 'Sorry, we don't have any steak left. Where are you staying?' 'With Mrs Wickens'. 'Oh, we have two steaks in the freezer'. We deduce that there is some sort of local 'hotel war' raging with the opposition 'Pofadder Hotel'. Our steaks resemble half a cow and we're glad we're fighting for the right side!

Well fed and totally knackered we abandon any hopes of further spotlighting and hit the sack.

Wednesday 20th November

We're up with the sun and head southwest to a site recommended to us by Rod Cassidy. Chat Flycatcher is ticked on a telephone wire en route; we realised at last night's 'log call' that we'd cocked-up on this one the previous day!

We reach the designated spot and set out across the dry, stony plain in a cold wind and under a grey sky, which comes as quite a shock to the system after the stifling heat of the previous day. First birds we stumble across are an excellent pair of Karoo Korhaans, perfectly camouflaged with pale brown backs and pinky-grey necks.

Just a few minutes later we flush three larks that look rather interesting. We relocate them feeding low on the stony ground and note all the key features. Heavy, slightly conical bill, warm peachy underparts and a faint dark teardrop below the eye. Sclater's Lark, on the list. Cheers Rodney! An excellent bird to connect with, being nomadic and with a very restricted range. This species is unique among larks, in that it lays a single egg. Interestingly this trait is shared by two other unrelated species, which co-habit this particularly harsh habitat, Double-banded Courser and Karoo Korhaan. Parent Sclater's Larks undergo huge thermal stress whilst incubating, with the nest being situated in an exposed position on the rocky plains. Once the egg has hatched small stones are placed in the nest to break up the chick's outline and add to the camouflage. A fascinating species.

With the target bird in the bag we head off for another look along the Onseepkans Road, to the north of Pofadder, before the hot sun climbs too high. A group of swifts passes over the car and an emergency stop allows us to identify them as a single Alpine Swift in the company of six Bradfield's Swifts, another rather local species. Nearby a Red-necked Falcon perches on a telegraph pole close to the road and our second pair of Karoo Korhaans for the morning feed on a rocky plain.

We take a steady drive back to Pofadder, making a number of photographic stops to record the splendidly desolate scenery and find a single Sobota Lark (described as 'common' here, in the site guide!) singing beside the road. Packing our bags we bid farewell to Pofaddder, which as proven to be an excellent birding site, despite our frantic timetable.

The road west, to Springbok, is of fast tarmac that comes as quite a relief after the dusty stone tracks utilised over the last couple of days. We reach Springbok in no time at all, and then turn south towards Gamoep and ultimately Aardvark Kloof. The road turns back to dirt, but the arid scenery is quite stunning. Alternating black volcanic and pale brown sandstone peaks, their dry rugged forms sculpted by the elements into dramatic cliffs and buttes, back vast rocky plains.

At Gamoep we return briefly to flat dry grasslands, where regularly spaced metal windmills pump life-giving water to troughs, which quench the thirst of livestock. A pair of Lanner Falcons perch on telegraph poles and one has to wonder what the profusion of birds that utilise these vantage points ever did before the arrival of these man-made perches.

Taking a right turn and retracing the route we took two days previously, we eventually navigate our way to Aardvark Kloof, a 'kloof' being a dry valley. It really is a beautiful setting in the clear late-afternoon light. A string of green acacias follow the line of a dry river bed, from which the valley sides rise as mounds of huge, rounded, dark-brown boulders. On occasional flat areas grow pale grasses and multicoloured shrubs, whose subtle hues are set off vividly by the dark volcanic earth.

We have scarcely left the car when a short burst of a Pririt Batis recording brings an instant response. A pair of these very attractive birds, with black 'Lone Ranger' masks and piercing gold eyes, proceed to feed low in an acacia and after a few minutes they are joined by an equally attractive pair of Fairy Flycatchers. A walk amongst the boulders higher ups the valley wall produces Cinnamon-breasted Warbler and the excitement mount when we flush a roosting eagle owl. Convinced that it must be Cape Eagle Owl, in this typically rocky environment, we pursue it up-hill and down-dale until we eventually get a decent perched view. Typically it's another bloody Spotted!

We admit defeat and set off back towards Springbok. As the glowing orange Sun sets below ridge-after-ridge of arid hills a group of three Secretary Birds circle the acacias before finding a suitable roosting spot. Another bout of spotlighting through the rocky hills towards Springbok fails to produce any owls, but a Rufous-cheeked Nightjar is accepted as fair compensation.

Springbok sports a wealth of bed and breakfast signs at every junction and we follow a randomly chosen arrow into a modern housing estate. A fresh-faced young lad, who explains that his parents are away, greets us; we are, however welcome to take a room. It's slightly more embarrassing for him to explain that we need to move our car to allow his friend, a very dubious looking older gentleman, to have access to the driveway in the morning. Enough said!

We celebrate another successful day with a couple of glasses of wine before a relatively early night. Tomorrow is another big day.

Thursday 21st November

It's a 4.00 am start and a good drive west to the Atlantic Coast at Port Nolloth. Port Nolloth is a rather shabby, run-down coastal town made famous by it's off-shore diamond deposits. Boats are used to support giant 'vacuum cleaners' that suck the diamond-bearing gravel from the seabed just beyond the breakers.

Our goal is something much rarer than diamonds, however. The extensive dune system just north of the town is home to the highly localised Barlow's Lark, which has a tiny coastal range in northernmost South Africa and southernmost Namibia. The low silver sand of the dunes is shrouded in a sparse layer of shrubs and many pretty flowering succulent plants, but the larks seem rather thin on the ground. After an hour or so we locate a Barlow's Lark, after which we typically see quite a few more! Cape Long-billed Lark is another new bird at this site, and is infinitely more appealing than the rather drab Barlow's. In the background the crashing Atlantic surf can be heard and also the din of the diamond dredging boats, operating just offshore.

Just across the road from the dunes is a huge natural saltpan, which doubles as Port Nolloth's airport, and the town's rubbish dump. Strangely it's also the breeding site of the endemic Damara Tern, a group of which greet us wheeling above the flat white expanse. It's great when everything falls in to place so easily, and we set off south with broad grins.

We haven't gone far out of town when a distinctive mammal is spotted, atop a roadside kilometre post. A hasty U-ey is made and we're soon back at the spot, scanning the low scrub for movement. Seconds later a little head pops up above the vegetation, then another and another. A group of fifteen Meerkats are hunting beside the road, sentinels regularly standing on hind legs to check for danger. They move rapidly through the scrub and it's fascinating to watch this group of endearing little animals in action.

We retrace our tracks to the south, rejoining the fast N7 road, and again cover the miles rapidly. A 'pie break' at Kamieskroon is well timed, as a stunning Black Harrier quarters the field right beside the petrol station in a very photogenic manner. In a reverse order to our outward journey the Karoo-scrub covered hillsides give way to lush valley-bottom vineyards, which in turn become flat, dry cereal fields.

It's 13.00 hours and very warm indeed when we arrive at Kransvlei Poort, a rather lushly vegetated small rocky valley and well-known birding site close to the N7. In spite of the high temperatures there is still plenty of bird activity in the shelter of the steep sandstone walls and we enjoy quite a rush of new birds in our two-hour slot at this site. Fiscal Flycatcher, Cape White-Eye, Cape Canary and some very smart Greater Striped Swallows are all ticks, but it is another canary that has drawn us to this location. After a concerted effort a Protea Canary is eventually located, a much sought-after bird endemic to the Mountain Fynbos of the southwestern Cape.

As we approach Cape Town it is quite a shock to see other cars, after spending a couple of days on the deserted outback roads. Reaching the brow of a hill the flat top of Table Mountain comes into view, a huge black anvil rising above the golden cereal fields. It's an awesome feature, when viewed looking down towards the city, seeming to stand guard over the commercial heart of southern Africa spread at its feet.

Our goal for the evening is the wetlands just north of the City, around the suburb of Milnerton. After a few wrong turns we reach the spot, which also affords fantastic views across Table Bay to the City and Mountain beyond. Having visited very little true wetland habitat previously on our tour we have a host of trip-ticks such as Reed Cormorant, Purple Gallinule, Red and Yellow-billed Ducks. Highlight is Cape Shoveler, however, these birds being the only ones we see in South Africa.

The daylight fails and we drive the short distance to Somerset West, a western suburb of Cape Town, where we find a hotel well positioned for the following morning's assault.

Friday 22nd November

At first light we ascend the steep and winding road to Sir Lowry's Pass, the gateway through the Hottentot's Holland mountain range to the west of Cape Town. We park up at The Pass and, full of enthusiasm, bound off up the track to the nearby summit. The weather has other ideas, however, and low cloud drifts on and off the hillside making a climb to the peaks a waste of time. Instead we follow the track along a contour and through stands of proteas, the low flowering shrubs characteristic of the region. The birding here is excellent, with endemic Victorin's Warblers singing right beside the track. This is supposed to be a tricky species to see, but rather than skulk they regularly hop out on bare branches to be filmed in full song.

Cape Sugarbirds display from the tallest protea flower heads, occasionally darting upwards to reveal their long streamer-like tails. Dazzling male Orange-bellied Sunbirds literally glow as they busily sip nectar and Cape Grassbirds skim over the lower grassy slopes.

It's still too misty to make an ascent, so we make our way back to the car park. A band of local tradesmen has now arrived and set out their displays of carvings and various tourist tat on the ground next to the car. In the time taken to haggle for a few select gifts we discover that the cloud has disappeared from the ridge and that the summit radio antennae are now pointing into a bright blue sky.

A swift about-turn finds us scaling the steep rocky outcrop high above the road. Underfoot, the fine grass and mosses are carpeted with a profusion of stunning alpine flowers and the light grey limestone pinnacles are potholed by intricate wind-eroded fissures. It's a wonderful place, with a superb panoramic view of the surrounding countryside. Eventually we locate a group of charismatic little Cape Rockjumpers after a rather protracted search amongst the peaks and gullies. Not particularly aptly named these stunning birds, with deep russets bellies and bold white moustaches, walk rather than jump over the rocks. As we trace our steps back we encounter a number of small flocks of Cape Siskins feeding amongst the outcrops. Another endemic of the mountain fynbos, these birds are much more distinctive than the illustration in the field guide suggests, displaying broad white tips to tail and primaries.

Back at the car park we are greeted by a very entertaining group of Chacma Baboons, which are obviously attracted to the area by the chance of a free meal. They pose obligingly for the camera, with tiny young riding mothers' backs in a most engaging manner. They may look very sweet and cuddly, but baboons are also very cunning and potentially vicious animals. MK opens the car boot to change films and a huge male spots a bag full of bananas from a good fifty feet away. The baboon breaks into a sprint towards the car, I shout, but before Martin realises what is happening the baboon rushes past him and plucks the bag from the car. There is a vicious struggle for the booty amongst the troop and seconds later they are chomping away on our bananas. Don't mess with a Chacma Baboon!

Excitement over and it's time to head east. We descend from the pass and find the valleys filled first with commercial pine forest and then huge commercial orchards. So this is where 'Sainsburys' procure their 'Cape Golden Delicious'! We descend further to the rolling coastal plain, where countless thousands of hectares of cereal fields stretch from the mountains right down to the sea. The next emergency stop is for one of the most eagerly anticipated birds of the trip; two Blue Cranes are feeding in a stubble field close to the road. There can be few birds so well proportioned and elegant as these. Delicate powder-blue, long-necked with subtle white crown and a train of wispy black tertials trailing from the rear, they stride on long legs with a supremely graceful gait. Absolutely stunning.

In 1931 there were only 17 Bontebok left in the world. They are magnificent animals; large boldly marked antelope with long spiral-wound horns. It was in this year that Bontebok National Park was created to prevent their extinction, by protecting nearly three thousand hectares of prime habitat. This isolated island of Coastal Renosterveld, set amongst a sea of wheatfields to the east of Swellendam, now supports around two hundred Bontebok, the optimum number for the land available.

We check in at the very well appointed visitor centre and set off on a loop of the reserve. The western section is set in what appears to be a huge crater, with steep banks sloping up from a vast flat plain of dense low Renosterveld shrubs. It's only a few minutes before we come across our first Bonteboks; if only all the birds were this easy to find, at their respective sites! Their contrasting browns, blacks and whites look superb against the backdrop of the crater walls and much film is expended. Interestingly they adopt their well-documented standing posture, with neck held drooping at forty-five degrees, facing into the wind.

As we continues around the loop-road we drop on some good birds, in the form of a group of three Olive Bush Shrikes feeding on the track and a Southern Boubou calling from the acacias. A walk around the campsite adds Pearl-breasted Swallow and the second half of the loop the very localised Agulhas Clapper Lark.

Mountain Zebras occur at just a handful of sites in Angola, Namibia and South Africa and Bontebok N. P. is one such area. The animals here belong to the smaller of the two subspecies, known as Cape Mountain Zebra, which is confined to South Africa and in 1980 numbering just one hundred and seventy animals. For large black-and-white mammals they certainly take some finding, but eventually we locate a group of three not far from the track. A little further on we spot a Grey Rhebok, a small pale-grey antelope with distinctive straight horns, amongst a group of Bontebok. Our visit to this excellent reserve is concluded with a Leopard Tortoise, which has some sort of death wish, walking along the access road.

Final locality for the day is the so-called 'Farmlands Loop', a dirt road that runs from Buffeljagsrivier south to the Breede River. This is essentially a bustard and lark quest, in an attempt to complete the set of both species. The dusty road winds through undulating cereal fields and patches of scrub, and we make regular stops to check likely looking larks. A pair of hunting Yellow Mongoose are very entertaining, but it's late in the day before we finally find a single Agulhas Long-billed Lark. This rather smart bird completes our clean up of no less than fifteen species of lark in the course of our tour and we congratulate ourselves on what has been quite a feat in just five days.

The crossing of the Breede River has to be seen to be believed. South Africa's last working pont consists of a flat boat just big enough to hold three cars. A steel cable is pulled tight across the river and the two black pont operators simply wrap chains around the cable, walk down the boat, and thereby pull it across the river by hand. It looks like absolutely backbreaking work and we notice that the operators have developed leg deformities from their struggles. If I am ever having a bad day at work I will cast a thought to these poor fellows. The price of the ten-minute crossing is fifteen Rand: that's one Pound in Sterling! Naturally we give them a very large tip.

When we reach the southern shore of the Breede River the sun has already sunk below the horizon and light is failing fast. The bustard quest looks doomed to end in failure, when we spot two huge shapes in a distant field. Some high speed driving around rough farm tracks brings us, in the nick of time, to an excellent pair of Stanley's Bustards. Although we have previously seen Denham's Bustard, of which Stanley's is currently classified as a subspecies, in Kenya way back in 1991 it has a good chance of promotion to full species level. We are therefore delighted with our eleventh-hour success and set off for the long dirt-road drive back to Swellendam.

A very smart Striped Mouse is the only nocturnal distraction and by mid evening we are in the attractive rural town of Swellendam. A friendly restauranteur directs us to a recommended guesthouse and, having seen the sumptuous menu, we vow to return. When we eventually find it the Purper Winde turns out to be, in our unbiased opinion, the best guesthouse in the whole of South Africa! Vases full of fresh flowers fill the exquisitely decorated room, a bottle of liqueur stands beside the bed and the bathroom sports a free-standing iron bath romantically surrounded by candles. Then I realise that I'm sharing the room with Martin and pledge to return one day with a companion of the opposite sex, in order to fully appreciate the sophistication and ambience of our surroundings!

Our superb host, Lizette Hendry, tells us that our chosen restaurant actually is known as one of the finest in South Africa and we set off back into town with mouths watering in anticipation. The gourmet critics are not wrong; The Old Mill certainly provides the best meal of the trip and one of my finest ever. Shark and king prawn in lime sauce, followed by banana pancake rolls and washed down with a fine South African Cabernet Sauvignon. Magnificent!

Saturday 23rd November

Liz bids us farewell before first light with the most amazing pack-up ever. The huge box is crammed with all manner of goodies, including quail's eggs! We head inland from Swellendam, climbing into the hills and also into the first and only rain of the trip. The vegetation here is lusher than any we have encountered in the country to date as we head first through farmland and then, climbing higher, patches of remnant forest. A brief stop at some roadside pools produces a fine male Greater Double-collared Sunbird and a brace of kingfishers at extremes of size: Giant and Malachite.

After the previous evening's late encounter with Stanley's Bustard we are delighted to see no less than ten birds en route to Grootvadersbosch Nature Reserve, including males in their stunning display posture turned to huge balls of white plumes. Our only Rameron Pigeons cause a halt in the proceedings, when we stop to admire a pair of these large, yellow-billed Columbas in a bare roadside tree.

It's just past 06.00 hours when we reach the entrance to Grootvadersbosch, a picturesque valley of broad-leaved woodland saved from cultivation. This is the one morning of forest birding in the entire trip and consequently we clock up a good selection of new birds, in the rapidly improving weather. Sombre Greenbul, Cape Batis, Blue-mantled Flycatcher and Olive Woodpecker are all ticks. Knysna Warbler has the reputation of being another real skulker. We find a likely looking spot, give the tape a whirl, and out pops a Knysna Warbler singing from a bare log. Bar-throated Apalis is next to fall, but we agree that star bird of the morning is probably the single male Swee Waxbill feeding close to the forest floor. This tiny endemic finch brightens the dull understorey with its shining red rump, grey head and neat black bib.

Right, we don't have a moment to waste. Next stop the coast! Well that's the plan but we can't resist a quick look at our 'kingfisher pools' again and this time we are rewarded with Little Rush Warbler. We zip back along the dusty Farmlands Loop, and similarly can't resist a Blue Crane photocall when a pair of these stunning birds appears right beside the track. As fascinating as the Cranes are elegant, hordes of Ostriches in roadside farms flock to their enclosure fences to investigate human visitors. If you've never had an inquisitive peck from a six-foot tall flightless bird then this encounter is a must!

Early afternoon sees us relentlessly marching back and forth though the knee-high fynbos of De Hoop Nature Reserve in an attempt to flush the most elusive of the Cape endemics, Hottentot Buttonquail. We soon decide that crappy flight-views of a small brown gamebird are not worthy of too much time and set off the short distance east to Potburg. Not far from the reserve gates we come across a Cape Grysbok grazing in a sheep enclosure, a very attractive little dark-brown antelope with a range limited to within South Africa's boundaries.

The De Hoop reserve covers a strip of lowland fynbos and coastal dunes east of Cape Agulhas. The eastern end of the reserve incorporates Potburg Mountain, upon whose southern cliffs nest the Western Cape's last breeding colony of Cape Vultures. We time our arrival to coincide with the bird's late afternoon return to their cliff-top roosts, having been out on foraging missions into the surrounding reserve during the day. Within minutes of our arrival at Potburg the first Cape Vultures glide over, bleached blonde body and underwing coverts contrasting with dark flight feathers and tail.

We discover that all this looking skywards can be quite productive and also see a small flock of African Black Swifts, a new bird for us, and a pair of Martial Eagles circling high in the sky. The remainder of our last evening in South Africa is spent around the eucalyptus woodland and scrub, where eventually we coax out one of the most skulking birds we have ever come across. After half an hour of rustling leaves and glimpses of small patches of plumage we get conclusive views of a Southern Tchagra.

The Sun sinks low and it's time to think about travelling in a Cape Town-wards direction.Flat tyre! All of the kit is rapidly ejected from the boot. Luckily we have both a jack and a tyre lever. It's actually a very smooth change; the McLaren pit would be proud of us! We drive down to the gate, ticking off a couple of very smart Scrub Hares en route. Someone has locked the park gates! A large sign, which we have somehow missed, tells us that the gate was locked half an hour ago. This is not good. We really don't want to spend the last night of the trip sleeping in the back of the car with no food. And we have a flight from Cape Town to catch tomorrow afternoon.

We drive round knocking on the doors of the houses in the ranger's compound but there's no one at home. We try a few other likely looking tracks but all lead to the same locked gate. Despondency is really starting to set in when we find some signs of life in one of the houses. Unfortunately the lady in question doesn't speak English, but we can follow her gesticulating to another property. We're in luck this time and an official-looking ranger greets us. We're more than happy to be out of his reserve, and drive off into the sunset.

Only another eagle owl scare, typically turning out to be yet another Spotted, interrupts our journey west to Caledon. We find a pleasant hotel where the cuisine would have been the best of the trip, had it not been for our Swellendam experience the previous evening, and enjoy our final Castle Beer for a year or two.

Sunday 24th November

The final early start for many a long month. We drive south to meet the coast at the small town of Hermanus. The sky is bright blue but there is a very strong westerly wind blowing. A crusty old seadog directs us to the main whale watching point, but warns us that the strong winds will affect our chances of seeing whales close inshore. He isn't wrong and we have to make do with a single Southern Right Whale blowing far out in the bay.

From Hermanus we follow the scenic coast road west to the small coastal hamlet of Rooi Els, where we take a side road down towards the sea. This is the point where the Hottentons Holland Mountains plunge precipitously into the turquoise blue sea. A dirt track follows a narrow, fynbos-covered, coastal plain between the steep hillside and the ocean. On the far side of False Bay the shape of Table Mountain is clearly visible; it's the perfect setting for the last few hours of real birding in South Africa.

We have only walked a hundred yards when a large, bright bird on a nearby telegraph pole stops us in our tracks. It's a dazzling male Cape Rock Thrush, in all it's blue-and-orange glory. Having given up all hope of getting a new bird on the last day this is amazing. More amazing still is the sight of the bird swooping down to the garden of a house below and collecting crumbs tossed from the window by an old lady! It is then joined by it's mate and a couple of young birds, just to complete the set. What a bird to have on your 'garden list'!

Continuing along the track we come across swathes of flowering proteas, attended by phenomenal numbers of stunning Orange-breasted Sunbirds and streamer-tailed Cape Sugarbirds. A group of Cape Siskins feed close by and higher up the slope a pair of Klippspringers eye us from a rocky promontory. It's criminal to leave such a wonderful spot but sadly we have an appointment with a Jumbo Jet.

The trek across the sprawling city of Cape Town and its never-ending suburbs is rather laborious, but there is one last site we cannot leave the country without visiting. In 1910 African Penguins (at that time known as Jackass Penguins) had a population of one-point-five million; by the end of the twentieth century only ten percent of this figure remained. Uncontrolled harvesting of the Penguin's eggs plus the scraping of their guano almost drove the species to extinction. The arrival of two pairs in the Boulders area, just south of Simon's Town on the Cape Peninsular, was therefore treated with great excitement back in 1982. The area, with its sheltered beaches and protection form natural predators, was obviously to the birds' liking as there are now around three thousand birds present. This dramatic increase is also due in part to the reduction in trawler fishing in False Bay, which has increased the supply of pilchards and anchovy, a principle part of the species' diet.

We have a fantastic hour viewing and photographing the birds from the newly constructed boardwalks at Foxy Beach, which take visitors right through an active African Penguin colony and to within inches of nesting birds. The penguins are so accustomed to visitors that they look totally unconcerned as a stream of tourists file past. On the beach hundreds of birds huddle together in groups, black backs contrasting with dazzling white sand. Many are young birds, their fluffy down being rapidly replaced by sleek, shiny adult feathers and leaving a moulted carpet of light grey down feathers littering corners of the beach. In the background small groups launch themselves into the blue surf. It's an absolute hive of activity, a small bustling town of dinner-suited inhabitants, and certainly a site not to be missed.

And that is it. Before we know it we're back at Cape Town Airport and another incredible journey is at an end. The last four weeks has taken us from the untouched, cold and starkly beautiful icy-wastes of the Antarctic packice to the sun-baked, haze-shimmering rocky vistas of the Kalahari Desert. From mountainous waves of freezer-chilled Southern Ocean saltwater to parched wind-hewn waves of brick-red sand at the Koa Dunes.

It really has been one-off, trip-of-a-lifetime and we board the plane with roll upon roll of diverse images covering everything from albatross to Aardvark and tortoise to pteradroma together with some of the most spectacular scenery and dramatic seascapes imaginable. Having sampled extremes of climate, scenery and social prosperity we leave South Africa with a host of new friends, a notebook full of new birds, and most of all a head full of unforgettable memories.

Ian Merrill January 2003

Once In A Lifetime: Prince Edward Islands, The Antarctic Pack-ice and South African Cape