The Elephant Whisperer: My Life With the Herd in the African Wild by Lawrence Anthony (the ebook reader txt) 📕

as volatile as nitroglycerine. One moment they’re barely moving, the next they’re a violent, muddy torrent that will sweep you twenty miles to the ocean in a heartbeat if you’re careless enough to get caught.

The sections of fence where the river entered and exited the reserve were particularly vulnerable to flooding. Here we had built sacrificial barriers designed to break away in a deluge, but until they were replaced they left huge gaps through which the elephants could escape. This meant we would have to move fast as soon as the storm was over.

Two hours later it was almost pitch-black, the rain was still bulleting down and everything had changed. Brendan’s voice staccatoed on the radio: ‘You’d better come down and have a look. The river is getting seriously out of control.’

‘How’re the sacrificial fences?’

‘Long gone.’

Françoise was sitting next to me. ‘I’m going down to the river to Brendan,’ I told her. ‘It’s come right up. I’ll go past the lodge and do a check while I’m there.’

‘I’ll come with you,’ she said, moving Bijou, who was now having her pre-nocturnal sleep, off her lap. ‘I’m worried about the guests with no electricity. Some of them are real city people and I should be there with them.’

We grabbed raincoats and made a dash for the Land Rover, pulling out onto the road, which was now just asloppy stream, causing the Land Rover to skid and slide all over the place. Above us almost continuous lightning illuminated in silver our savannah plains completely inundated with water.

As we rounded the last corner I got my first glimpse of the river. My heart jumped at the view of the seething torrent and I pulled over. ‘Good God! Look at that – it’s a monster!’

I reversed back and turned down the track to the river crossing, just above where we had been charged on the quad bike by Frankie, and played the headlights on the liquid mayhem roaring past.

A dead cow swept past in the gurgling waves, then another. ‘This is unbelievable,’ I said. Françoise just stared.

I slammed the Land Rover into reverse, but instead of going backwards the wheels spun loosely in the slimy mud and to my horror we started inexorably sliding forward, slipping down the slope into the hurtling river.

Just as I thought all was lost and we were going into the torrent, I instinctively swung the wheel and jammed the Landy hard against the right bank, wedging it into the soft soil.

‘Get out quickly,’ I told a wide-eyed Françoise. ‘The Landy could slip away again. Let’s go!’

She opened her door and disappeared from view as she fell into the mud. I clambered over to her side and helped her up. Then we slithered up the crossing back to the main track in the darkness, slipping and grabbing onto each other for support in the frictionless mud. Thankfully I had the presence of mind to bring the radio and a torch was clipped onto my belt. I called Brendan.

‘Standing by. Where’re you?’ he asked.

‘At the lodge crossing. The Landy’s stuck at the water’s edge. Can you get the tractor down as fast as possible? Or we’re going to lose it.’

‘Shit, what you doing there?’

‘What do you think? I was about to go for a swim but changed my mind when I saw the dead cows.’

‘Yeah, I saw them bobbing like corks. Even worse, I think I’ve also seen a body or two as well. Not sure, though, with the dark. Sorry but I can’t get to you – our vehicles are up to the axles in mud. I’ll try and work out how to get Gunda Gunda down.’

‘Françoise is with me. We can’t stay here, we’re going to walk to the lodge.’

‘OK …’ He paused. ‘Just remember the ngwenyas.’

Knowing Françoise was listening he had purposefully used the Zulu word for crocodiles. I silently thanked him.

The entrance to the lodge grounds was only about a hundred yards away, with the lodge itself another hundred after that. But between us and the entrance were two deep pools, one on each side of the road. Just yesterday Brendan and I had noticed that two huge crocs had taken up residence, one in each pool. Unusually, I hadn’t brought a gun and now I really wished I had. Not to shoot the reptiles, but to frighten them off.

I surveyed the way ahead. The pools had overflowed onto the road between them and merged into a small lake. I knew exactly where the road went but it was swamped, about a foot and a half deep – easily enough to hide a crocodile in the dark.

We stopped at the edge and I played my torch over the water and found one almost immediately, its red eyes reflecting back at us. Then I saw the other. They were together and had left the deluge and moved away about thirty yards to a ledge on much higher ground. They were far enough away and, praying that the duo hadn’t been joined by a third mate since we last saw them, I took Françoise’s hand and we waded through the flow.

Emerging on the other side, it suddenly dawned on methat even the crocodiles were instinctively seeking higher ground. How much bigger was this river going to get?

A few minutes later we were at the lodge which was in complete darkness. Françoise cleaned herself up and went to some of the guests who had left their rooms and were in the bar area putting on brave faces. I grabbed the security ranger and we walked down the expansive lawn towards the Nseleni valley. We were barely able to hear each other speak, such was the roar of the river, and then I felt water sloshing through my boots. These were no mere rain puddles.

A flash of lightning showed me the truth. The river, about a hundred yards away, was so swollen it had overflowed its banks and was starting to surge across the lawns. I immediately turned and ran back