On the Tropic of Capricorn, the topic is Leo...and hefalump, Cape buffalo, leopard and rhino. These are the Big Five and if you and your ranger are fortunate enough to track them down, the manager of MalaMala Game Reserve will "lionize" you with a specially hand-calligraphed certificate. We got ours from our first 4 hours in the bush!

MalaMala is in the center of the Transvaal lowveld, a region of nearly flat dense bush country. 55,000 acres comprise five "farms" originally owned by the very early settlers, most of Scottish background, who shared a deep reverence for this wilderness. Now owned and closely supervised by Mike Rattray, MalaMala has pampered the "Big White Hunter" spirit of thousands of guests for over fifty years.

As Greg and I got into his van at Cybele Forest Lodge (where I had spent the night enroute by small plane from Johannesburg), the clouds rolled in and the skies opened. We drove for an hour and a half to MalaMala through torrential rains. He kept pointing out parts of the largest pecan plantation in the world and miles of wind-bent banana tress; all I could see was the windshield wipers. If this kept up, I wasn't going to see very much in an open Land Rover safari truck!

We passed through the guarded gate of the Sabi Sand Wildtuin in which MalaMala and several other private reserves co-op to preserve their properties unfenced to allow the animals to range freely on this, the western side of the veterinary-fenced Kruger National Park. To get in was easy: sign the book and pay ten Rand. Without a pass from one of the reserves, however, one doesn't get out; poaching is a very serious matter. Fifty years ago, raising cattle was the objective here and all carnivores were considered vermin-they could be shot without a permit on sight. Old Harry Kirkman who was head ranger at Toulon, now a part of MalaMala, killed over 500 lions during his six years of cattle management.

Alone at Toulon, Harry used to drive the twenty kilometers to MalaMala and sit around the leadwood campfire swapping tales of the bush. Those days there was a krall (corral) for animals supported by a huge jacalsbessie tree on a bend of the Sand river where in 1930 Wac Campbell, who then owned MalaMala as his private, once-a-year hunting camp, re-sited the original camp from the east bank to the west. Spying the giant tree, Wac ordered the kraal moved and set up his campfire there. Surrounded by a circle of tall reeds called the boma, guests would sit at old packing cases around the fire and have their evening meal.

I'd read that dinner in the boma is one of the great on-going traditions at MalaMala; Greg said he doubted they'd use it in this rain. So while it had nearly stopped as the Shangaan guard raised the gate with a smart salute, I was not very optimistic about enjoying this famous adventure to the full.

As Greg dropped me off, Steve came into the reception hut. He was introduced as my ranger and would be at my elbow for most of my stay. A South African in his late twenties, he had been managing a private game reserve up-country, but tiring of the responsibilities of management, had joined the MalaMala team to get back in the bush and close to the animals he loves with cautious respect.

As we walked through the compound he outlined the schedule. Lunch would be a buffet in the indoor dining room at 1:00; I was then free to browse the boutique, have a swim in the pool, or a walk (staying within the short grass area), and tea would be served on the terrace of the main lodge at 4:00, after which we would go on our first drive to return by 8:30. Dinner would be at 9:00 and he'd call me at 5:30 the next morning for our second drive, which would get us back for breakfast at 9:00. I told him I'd very much like to see the two other camps on the MalaMala reserve-Kirkman's, and Harry's-and he said he'd show them to me on the way to my flight from Skukuza air field tomorrow. Busy but rewarding.