We drove down the dusty road and into the Lion Park at Cato Ridge with a certain amount of trepidation.
With the story detailing the trauma experienced by a Durban family who were surrounded by lions in the park, to the point of having the beading chewed off their vehicle, while the owner Brian Boswell declared the incident was no more than lions at play, The Independent on Saturday decided to go into the lions’ den and find out.
The first sign that greeted us on the left as we drove in read “Trespassers will be eaten”, which was a tad unnerving, as we wondered if we would be able to escape in time, should the lions consider us a tasty morsel for their mid-morning break.
As we formulated a few Prison Break type strategies in case we found a lion on the roof of our small Toyota, signs directed us to the shop to pay our entry fee to the lion enclosure.
With a ticket clutched in hand, there was a quick visit to the ladies, where another sign, which read “Please don’t steal the toilet rolls”, reminded us we were in a place where anything could happen.
We approached the first massive gate leading into the enclosure.
A sign outside warned us clearly to keep the windows and doors locked, not to get out of the vehicle and to keep driving slowly should a lion approach the car.
We were let through by a very relaxed guard – a good sign, surely, the lions were not actually that dangerous. Otherwise logic dictated the guard should have been at least a bit twitchy.
After closing the first gate, the second gate was opened and the relaxed guard stood very much to one side behind the bars.
We were in the lions’ den and immediately saw two groups of lions relaxing in the grass.
As we drove up, tails swished as they all turned and inspected us with that languid ease that comes from knowing you’re at the top of the heap.
The first group lay huddled together under two trees, shielded from the rain, and seemed to be enjoying a comfortable siesta moment.
We checked in the rearview mirror – no imminent ambush from behind.
Round the corner and up to the second group, which was also sheltering in the long grass.
Suddenly there was a flurry of movement as four of the lions ran across the road in front of the vehicle. Another quick rearview mirror check showed that the group under the trees had sat up, alert, noses twitching.
A huge, battle-scarred male went for a smaller lion and the sudden confrontation moved into the middle of the road, right in front of us.
Massive jaws and the sheer power of the king of the jungle took centre stage for a couple of mesmerising seconds.
Having confirmed his place as leader of the pack, the large male turned his back and stalked into the middle of the road, where he lay down with an air of supreme indifference.
We would have to drive into the grass to get around him.
Another rearview mirror check: the first group had settled down, but were still watching.
We drove very slowly past the male and tried to avoid running over paws the size of small saucepans.
He watched us through half-closed eyes, daring us to stop.
For a fraction of a second, we took on the dare and the camera clicked.
And then we left.
The lions had not chased us nor ferociously chewed bits off the car, but they reminded us that we had taken a drive on the wild side and that they demanded respect.
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