After a soggy Easter at the abandoned waterfront, the sun came out in force as we headed north west through hot and dusty specs on the map.
Following the course of the Orange River, scenery became a contrast; rocky and sparse, interspersed with the green of grape and citrus where irrigation channels were cut. Fantastic aloe, cactus and quiver trees cling to stone where crops don't grow on one side. On the other, bright green oasis' abound.
We arrived at Augrabies Falls national park after midday, finding solace in the shade of the campground for lunch.
It wasn't long lived.
Having not shared any food with the photogenic Vervet monkeys, one young miss with attitude turned it on. A quick rush, some hissing and bared teeth from the 30cm monster were no match for Nikita, who screeched and upended a chair trying to get away. Vincent was far more resolute under attack, raising himself to full height and stomping. He wasn't about to become a monkey's bitch.
Whilst Nikita pondered exactly what the consequences of being so easily dominated in the first few minutes might mean in the hierarchy of things, the monkeys looked up, barked warnings and promptly disappeared.
"What are they scared of?" She asked.
Vincent was by now brandishing a big stick, and proudly declared that it was his 'monkey beating stick' that had sent the monkeys packing.
For about a millisecond this was both plausible and awe inspiring. So manly!
And then from behind him strolled the largest baboon we'd yet seen. From proud and masculine to a quickly deflating 'Aah', that became hilarity for the rest of the day.
Next morning though, stuff got real and all hilarity was gone. We awoke to soul-piercing screams. The camp was quite literally under siege; the sound of human pain was unmistakable and terrifying, especially at that hour.
30cm high guerrillas had set up 360 degree ambushes around each sleep befuddled campsite. When the humans emerged, they executed plans with unmatched precision and finesse. But having got our bearings and been embarrassed the previous day, we weren't about to be beaten by monkeys this time.
We left all food in sealed containers. The 'monkey stick' was retrieved and our own plan in place: Guy patrols perimeter with stick, girl watches food like hawk, looking fierce while preparing breakfast. Once complete, all excess would hastily be returned to the car and the meal would commence. Winners.
And then we played it out. Guy cut a lap of the immediate vicinity with stick. Monkeys looked moderately perturbed. It all went smoothly just long enough for the ingredients to emerge from the sealed box. At this signal, a deft little creature instantly side stepped guy and hopped into the only open car door.
Shit.
Obviously, uproar ensued. Girl completely forgot her post, attempting to dislodge the tiny terrorist from the car. In response, tiny terrorist calmly left car, grabbing what it could from the now unguarded table as it passed. Arms full, it gracefully retreated to the very top of a nearby tree, amid much cheering from its peers.
Fuck.
All too soon, those screams of anguish made sense on a personal level. The devastation of losing much longed for bacon and well tended eggs, while camping in the middle of nowhere, produced gut wrenching sounds from across the camp ground. An 8yr old girl passed by. Sensing our devastation and frustration, she added some helpful commentary:
"They're scared of men you know". Right. Thanks.
In the end, there was nothing to do but pack up and move on. Hungry.
Luckily, the scenery of the park mended our spirits. The mood improved to jovial at the sighting of baby kudu and our first herd of giraffe. One stunning sunset later and it was the perfect South African farewell.
Up next: To Namibia