The glamour of prospecting

by Fred C. Cornell

The rare phenomenon of heavy rain in this arid spot, where it had probably not fallen for years, was also responsible for an extraordinary sight which we witnessed as soon as we had got out of the mud on to the pebble “beach” and firm sand. Scorpions were “trekking” in all directions. Driven out of the cracks and holes in the surface of the pan by the water, they swarmed in such numbers that one could scarce walk without stepping on them, and all with tail erect, rampant, ready to sting anything that came along, or, failing that, each other or themselves. And before we got to the tree, I had killed more of them than ever I had seen, besides several tarantulas and two snakes.

“The tree will be full of them!” shouted Telfer, and he was right. Luckily the embers were still alive, and there was a fair amount of dry wood still, and by making a big fire we smoked and burnt them out: though through all the hours of that storm, and the whole night of dreary drizzle that succeeded it, these dangerous, venomous little pests constantly immolated themselves on the glowing embers of the fire.

It rained all day, and a wit boom was never intended by nature to do more than afford a modicum of shade from the sun, certainly not to keep out even a shower. Besides, this tree of ours was not much bigger than a bush, and as it was impossible to keep dry, we had to try at least to keep warm, and so the whole tree was gradually burnt piecemeal. Only a few days back we had nearly died for want of water, and now, right here in the dryest part of the desert, we were getting too much of it! Each man had but a thin shirt and pants and a pith helmet, which was soon a shapeless mass of pulp. Our meal-bag had hung in the tree, and by the time we remembered the fact most of its contents had run away in thin paste. We cooked the rest and had a hot meal with the rain pouring down on us, our only anxiety being not to let the fire out. Towards evening Gert said, “I never remember a rain like this in the Kalahari! It looks like keeping on all night. Come, we must search for more wood, and if possible shoot a buck; if so we can eat all night!”

So we gathered every dead bush within a mile—luckily there were a fair amount of them—and Gert shot a gemsbok, that stood quite still and seemed quite stupefied with the rain; and all night long we kept a fire going, and sizzled buck liver and buck steaks on the embers, and ate, and shivered, and grumbled, and steamed, as the hot flames drove some of the moisture out of our dripping clothes. Of course there was no chance of sleep, and indeed we were too occupied in keeping the fire alight and killing scorpions to think of it, and we were never more thankful than when morning at length broke, and we could see our way for an attempt to reach our diamond pan.

By noon we had found the place, a small circular pan about 100 yards in diameter, with a well-defined “wall” of tilted shale showing at the base of the dunes all round it, but alas! like us, it was full of water, and we could do nothing. The water, though freshly fallen, was almost like brine, and quite undrinkable; and altogether our cup was full!

However, about noon the weather cleared and the sun shone, and we slept for a couple of hours, and then found a new camping-place, where wood was abundant, made a big fire, and turned in for the night.

Although so much rain had fallen, it had been of no use to us, for all the pans in this particular vicinity were, we found, either salt or very alkaline, and whatever water they had caught was undrinkable. We had therefore to return to camp, there to refit for another trip, fully resolved that in future a mackintosh would be included in our equipment.

Thunder-showers now became frequent, and in some of the pans small pools of muddy but still drinkable water could be found; but this supplement to our supply of water was too precarious to be relied upon, and we were forced to still keep our base within reach of Rauchtenbach’s supply.

Meanwhile we tested several pans within easy distance of the camp, but found they were not what we required, and therefore decided to make a further reconnaissance eastward, towards where Gert had found the stones.

Van Reenen and I, therefore, one morning started for Aar Pan, resolved to climb the extremely high dune there, and from it chart out the position of as many pans as we could see, and, should we find a sufficiency of water in the pits described by Gert, to remove part of our stores, etc., there, and make it the starting place for further work. Van Reenen, who had been snug in camp during our deluge at “Kobo-Kobo,” would not hear of a waterproof, and laughed so at mine that I unslung it and left it behind again. In any case rain looked out of the question, for it was one of the most incandescent days of the trip. Starting at daybreak, we found that, though the distance was not great, this direction led absolutely athwart the dunes, and progress was extremely slow and difficult. The dunes were mostly covered with thick grasses, which the recent rain had caused to sprout in an astonishing manner, and which was every whit as troublesome to traverse as loose sand. There was an abundance of game, gemsbok in small clumps of four or six, or in pairs, standing and watching us curiously till within a stone’s throw; wild ostriches in flocks, and steenbok and duiker everywhere. Leopard spoor was also very prominent, and we had great hopes of getting one; but they are the most wily of beasts, and extremely hard to get at without dogs. By noon we were in full sight of the pan, and a most extraordinary sight it presented. Its perfectly level floor of light blue shale, surrounded by hills of reddish sand, gave it precisely the appearance of a lake, and for some time after I first came in sight of it, I felt confident that it was indeed full of water. Then across this flat, unruffled surface came sweeping what appeared to be a number of waterspouts, tall, perfectly defined columns, travelling rapidly. But they were not water, but sand-whorls, a common enough phenomenon in these dry regions, and known to the Boers as zand-duivels (sand-devils), and which, beginning with a slight whorl of sand, gather force and velocity as they travel, picking up small pebbles, sticks, leaves, and every light article that comes in their path, and bearing it aloft to a tremendous height. Here on this perfectly flat floor there was nothing to break their symmetry, and they were as well-defined as the waterspouts I took them for. From the high dunes from which we first obtained a full view of the pan, the whole circuit of its flanking dunes was plainly visible, but as we descended the mirage hid these, and when we eventually stood on the floor no sign of the far dunes could be seen: we were apparently standing on the edge of a vast unbroken lake, whose mirror-like surface reflected the clouds as faithfully as a sheet of water would have done. And when, after a few minutes, several more “waterspouts” sprang up and went sailing across the “water,” I had almost to pinch myself; the whole thing was so real in its unreality. The pan is about two miles wide by five miles long, but by the time we were half-way the mirage had puzzled us so that we began to wonder if ever we should find the pits we were looking for. Occasionally a dune on the far bank loomed up as though it might be a solid reality, but a few steps in that direction would see it melt away, dissolving into the hazy shimmer. It was impossible to judge either distance or proportion; on several occasions a big pile of rocks came into view apparently as large as cottages and half a mile away, and, on our making for them, proved to be boulders the size of a bucket, and barely fifty yards’ distance. Then a long line of gemsbok came into sight following each other at perfectly regular intervals. Suddenly they stopped as one, then they all tossed their heads together, and then the line began to waver and break up and float away, and lo! there stood a solitary old bull staring at us, quite alone—the rest had all been tricks of the mirage. When we were within thirty yards he turned and made off, and was soon up to his knees in water, apparently, and followed by several of his spectral attendants. Altogether the place seemed absolutely uncanny, and in no part of the Kalahari have I ever seen the mirage play such tricks as at Aar Pan.