Wild times

The tiny propeller plane that seemed to be made from beaten tin dipped and shuddered in the air. One of the girls opposite me turned the colour of vegetable bouillon. The pilot briskly apologised for the turbulence which he attributed to heavy clouds and the unsettled weather, unusual for this time of year in South Africa. His confident manner was belied by the small tremor in his voice.

We were, if God permitted, on our way to a game reserve called Ulusaba. It is one and a half hours (by tin plane) north of Johannesburg and owned by Richard Branson. I had never been to a game reserve before. But I had seen Mogambo with Clark Gable and Ava Gardner and imagined it must be highly romantic if rather spartan. I only hoped that, if I survived the flight, there would be inside showers and no lions creeping into my canvas tent at night.

After the plane finally managed to land on a sandy strip in the middle of the bush, however, I was led to a thatched construction with comfy sofas and handed a glass of champagne. I would have taken neat whisky from a flask, which I do recall from Mogambo. We then set off on a steep drive up a hill – small, squat trees pushing up through the ochre soil – to Rock Lodge, where we would be spending the first two nights.

Rock Lodge was nothing like the small wooden building Ms Gardner ate her meals in. It was more like an African version of Eagle’s Nest. A pool with a waterfall bubbled away in a courtyard. The main building was gargantuan, containing a bar, a cinema room and a long dining-table overlooking a panoramic view of about 100 miles.