Review: Morukuru Farm House, Madikwe – in search of lions

Madikwe Game Reserve, located in the north of South Africa, on the border with Botswana, lies awake in the predawn. It is no longer night, but neither is it yet day, when the temperature will soar. It is in this between-time that the lions hunt.

I close the door to my bedroom, one of five around a courtyard in the former farmhouse in which I am staying, and I make my way to the kitchen. There, Emile, our bush guide, tells me around the table that he heard a lion’s call not far from where I had been sleeping a short while ago.

He hands me a cup of coffee and I inspect the map of the game reserve with pins in it to mark out which animals we have spotted on previous game drives.

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Madikwe covers 75,000 hectares of diverse terrain – grassland, scrub, woods, a river and the rugged Rant van Tweedepoort ridge, where the wild dogs roam. Pins point out the elephants, hippos and white rhinos we have seen, not to mention the zebras, waterbucks and warthogs too numerous to record.

It’s time to get in the converted Land Rover Defender and make our way into the bush proper, beyond the electric fence that rings Morukuru Farm House.

There is a chill in the air and a strong, musky, almost animal smell that will dissipate when the sun rises in an hour or so. A bolt-action rifle sits in its cradle at the front of the vehicle – a legal requirement. Just in case.

An encounter with a rhino

We are not far out of the gates when Emile stops the car. He and Levi, our tracker, inspect something in the mud. It’s a paw print – a leopard’s and fairly fresh. They look up to the hills and decide that’s where the leopard has gone.

We drive on and the zebras are alarmed. “Something” must have happened here not long ago in this area, Emile theorises. The other animals we come across are also on edge and I scan the tall grass for a pair of skulking shoulders, haunches like coiled springs, ready to pounce. But I see nothing.

We stop a little further on and Emile and Levi jump down to unhook the boot of the Land Rover. Moments later, we’re drinking “bush coffee” with Amarula and stretching our legs. Long-tailed monkeys are hanging out in the trees, oddly quiet.

I lack their vantage point but I, like the zebras, continue to stare at the tall grass, while Emile makes a quick reconnaissance of the area. Just in case.

The sun is now beginning to crest the high hills and ridge. It sparkles off the river a little way off from which three hippos peep out, their heads just above the water. A rare spot.

Driving on, we come across a rhino and her calf. She approaches us, not in anger but in curiosity. Emile tells us to be silent and the imposing giant comes to within metres of me, at the back of the car. Satisfied, she moves off into the bush, her baby trotting behind her.

We spot a pair of cheetahs, sitting tall, almost invisible, in the grass, hungry and looking for their next meal. They are shadowed by an opportunistic jackal that carefully keeps its distance. It is only when it becomes too hot to hunt that we find our lions.

These are not the ferocious beasts of my imagination, but a mother and son lying in the shade of a tree next to the airstrip. There is no snarling, no flashing of fangs. Just a pair of raised eyebrows to acknowledge our presence. “The game reserve is not a warzone,” Emile had explained the previous evening. “It is a peaceful place. But you have to respect it.”

The African sun oppresses both hunter and hunted in Madikwe. Now is the time when birds and animals of all sizes take advantage of the lazy hours to drink at the watering holes in relative safety. Inevitably, the truce must end and as the sun sets, it makes silhouettes of the dry, jagged trees.

Stick bread and stories by the fire

A camp fire has already been prepared when we arrive for our braai (barbecue). From up here, on the top of a steep hill, I can see the reserve for miles around – herds of zebras, a lone elephant reaching up into the branches with its trunk, as the last of the sun is snuffed out.

Emile and Rochane, our Morukuru hostess, teach us to make stokbrood (“stick bread” in Afrikaans) by wrapping dough around a long stick and holding it over the glowing embers of the fire. By the time we arrive back at Morukuru Farm House, the reserve lies quiet under a blanket of stars.

Every part of this upmarket and fully staffed Relais & Châteaux property is charming – from the mongooses scampering across the lawn next to the swimming pool to the waterbuck that keeps you company while you rinse off under your private, outdoor shower, and the antelope carpaccio served at dinner. But my favourite part of Morukuru Farm House is at the back of the property.

Here, a very stylish and long wooden observation deck juts out into the bush, with a kitchen and bar area, and even a spa treatment room. A watering hole has also been built just beyond the firepit. Shortly before it is time to leave for the airstrip to catch the 50-minute flight back to Johannesburg, I come here for one last look.

To my surprise, I find a huge male elephant drinking and we spend a few minutes – just he and I – observing one another before he strolls off back into the bush. It is the perfect way to say farewell to Madikwe.

Chris was a guest of Relais & Châteaux and Morukuru Family, which comprises three properties. Around £4,050 a night in January for the five-bedroom Morukuru Farm House.

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