There’s a tendency to think a safari begins the moment you drive through the national park gate. Mine began long before that.

The road from Johannesburg towards Blyde River Canyon quietly changed everything around me. The traffic thinned, the towns gave way to open country, and somewhere along the way I realised I was properly, unmistakably somewhere else.

Camping with monkeys and baboons on the Panorama Route

One of our first stops was a campsite ringed by bush.

And monkeys.

Lots of monkeys.

Baboons and smaller monkeys strolled through the site as though they owned it — which, to be fair, they probably believed they did. We learned the rules fast: the doors and windows of Cedric, Ian and Cath's Toyota Land Cruiser, stayed shut whenever we weren’t beside him, and food never, ever got left in the tent.

They knew exactly what they were doing. Leave something edible within reach and there was a very real chance it wouldn’t be there when you came back.

It was my first proper reminder that in South Africa’s wildlife areas you aren’t visiting somewhere animals happen to live. You’re in their environment, and they have long since worked out how humans operate.

Spotting my first crocodile from a Blyde River Canyon viewpoint

We hiked out through the surrounding landscape and came to a ledge high above the water. The view was enormous — the river far below looking calm and impossibly distant, boats reduced to specks.

Then I saw something. A dark mark against the water, barely there.

I stared at it for a while before turning to Ian. “I think that might be a crocodile.”

From that height it felt like a ridiculous claim. Ian looked anyway. “I think you’re right.”

A boat was passing beneath us. Then it turned around and headed straight for it. The passengers had clearly spotted the same thing.

Apparently my safari eyes were already coming along nicely.

Off-road to a wild bush campsite near Blyde River Canyon

From another viewpoint, Ian noticed a Land Cruiser on the far side of the river, and what looked like a campsite beside it. That was all the encouragement he needed. Out came the navigation apps, and eventually he found a route.

Calling it a road would be generous. Cedric was built for off-road, and this was very much off road. We bounced and lurched through the bush while I took on the crucial role of shouting “BUMP!” every time something violent appeared, so Cath could brace herself.

When we finally arrived, it was quite possibly the most isolated campsite I’ve ever stayed at. Deep in the bush, no crowds, no neat rows of caravans — just us, the landscape and the wildlife.

And then there were the bathrooms. The bathtubs looked like something you’d find in a horror film. Rustic doesn’t quite cover it.

Waking up to baboon chaos in the bush

The next morning I woke to a racket outside. The baboons had arrived, raiding the bins, flinging things about and reeking havoc.

Watching them was fascinating. They’re seriously intelligent, and campsites hand them opportunities nobody intended to offer. Entertaining from a distance — and another reminder of why sites in wildlife areas are so strict about food and rubbish. A baboon that learns humans mean easy food quickly becomes a problem, for people and for the baboons themselves.

Swimming in the river 

That afternoon, Ian suggested a swim. The word swim is an exageration.

That afternoon, Ian suggested a swim, and I use 'swim' loosely here.

There was a stretch of fast-flowing river with a branch reaching out over the water. My version of swimming involved gripping that branch for dear life while the current tried to take the rest of me downstream.

Ian assured me crocodiles weren’t a concern in that particular stretch — fast water isn’t their preferred habitat. I chose to believe him, mostly because I was already hanging for dear life in the river.

Blyde River Canyon viewpoints on the Panorama Route

The following morning we drove to another viewpoint in the Blyde River Canyon region of Mpumalanga, and this was one of those moments photographs simply don’t prepare you for. Vast cliffs, deep valleys and forest rolling away into the distance.

Blyde River Canyon sits on the Panorama Route, one of the most rewarding scenic drives to combine with a journey towards the Greater Kruger. For anyone heading from Johannesburg towards safari country, this is exactly why the journey deserves its own time. You could drive straight to Kruger — you’d just miss an enormous amount.

The waterfall you can stand inside

While exploring, we found a waterfall. Not one to admire from a viewing platform, but one you could actually step into. Naturally, I did.

Standing there with the water crashing around me and that huge landscape behind us was wonderful. There was also a fairly significant drop nearby, so it was very much a one-wrong-step-and-it’s-bye-bye-baby situation.

Beautiful? Absolutely. A place to watch where you put your feet? Definately.

Planning a Johannesburg to Kruger road trip?

Frequently asked questions

If you’re travelling from Johannesburg towards Kruger National Park, build in time for the Panorama Route and Blyde River Canyon rather than treating the drive as a transfer. For a first-time safari traveller, slowing the journey down means you experience far more of South Africa’s landscapes, wildlife and everyday adventures before your first game drive even begins.

How long should you allow between Johannesburg and Kruger?

We took several days, and I’d do it that way again. One long driving day gets you there; a few days lets you actually stop at the canyon viewpoints, the waterfalls and a campsite or two along the way.

Is the Panorama Route worth adding to a safari trip?

For me, completely. It’s a totally different side of South Africa to the bush — canyons, forest and waterfalls — and it makes arriving at Kruger feel like the crescendo rather than the whole story.

Do you need a 4x4 for Blyde River Canyon?

Not for the main viewpoints, which are reachable on ordinary roads. We only needed Cedric’s off-road ability because we went looking for a remote bush campsite most people would never attempt to reach.

Next in my South Africa journal: the drive into Kruger — and the moment the safari obsession truly took hold.