Chapter 14: THE GIANT GREY GHOSTS OF KNYSNA
It is virtually impossible to spend any length of time in the Garden Route without encountering the myths and legends surrounding the Knysna elephants. So, of course, I had heard the stories but I had never dared to hope that my own stay in Knysna would be graced by an actual personal encounter with these magnificent and mysterious creatures.
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The Knysna elephants are a relic of the massive herds, comprising thousands of animals, which freely roamed the forests, fynbos and grasslands until they were driven almost to extinction by hunting. For a long time official sources insisted that there was only one elephant left, the so-called Matriarch, identifiable by her one broken tusk. Attempts to reintroduce elephants into the Knysna forests from elsewhere were a dismal failure. This meant, of course, that the Knysna elephants were now believed to be functionally extinct. However, more latterly, DNA analysis of dung samples has led scientists to believe that there are five cows, a few calves and possibly three bulls left, which represent the most southerly, free-ranging herd of elephants on the African continent. Some of these elephants have been caught on camera in recent years. These mysterious creatures have had to adapt their diet and to become silent and ghost-like; adept at moving almost invisibly so as to avoid human contact in order to ensure their continued survival.
This small and isolated herd of elephants secretly living deep within the ancient forests of Knysna has been immortalised in literature such as the famous book, Circles in a Forest, by author Dalene Matthee. Their existence is shrouded in mystery and is at the heart of much historic folklore of the area. Prior to the DNA evidence, many even doubted the existence of the herd altogether. It has been extremely difficult to track the elephants due to their legendary evasiveness, the density of the forest and the over sixty thousand hectares of open, unfenced area that they roam on the southern slopes of the forested Outeniqua mountains.
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I had read extensively about the breathtakingly beautiful, so-called elephant hiking trails hidden within the Diepwalle forest, the last remaining remnants of the once extensive and magnificent tropical rainforest in which herds of elephants freely roamed without fear of humans. I knew that I had to find the time to explore these trails during my stay in Knysna.
One Saturday morning I awoke before dawn and drove for almost an hour up a steep, mountainous, dirt road, which winds for kilometres deep into the forest to eventually reach the Diepwalle Forestry station, from which the elephant hikes begin. I chose to do the longest of the three walks on offer - a nine kilometre hike through the densest moist forest of the area. By seven am I was already on the trail, my early lunch in a backpack. What a magnificent experience it turned out to be.
The inner sanctum of the forest is dense, featuring a wild profusion of an incredible diversity of flora, protected by the massive canopies of ancient trees meeting high above. The trail descends down steep riverbanks into a lush green world of moss, tree ferns, lichens and crystal-clear, sepia-toned streams. Bending to refill my water bottle at one such stream, I was alerted by a rustle in the undergrowth and found myself face-to-face with a startled bushbuck stag. After freezing for a moment, he darted away and I was delighted to catch a glimpse of his doe, rapidly following in his wake. Climbing the steep slope back out of the riverbed, I glanced up to catch sight of the brilliant red underside of the wings of the elusive and shy Knysna loerie. What a breathtaking vision, and unusually fortunate indeed. I couldn’t help but think that this sighting could only be a good omen for the rest of my hike.
About halfway through my hike, I encountered a massive and magnificent ancient Yellowwood tree, several of its roots protruding high out of the ground to form a natural, secluded and protected seating arrangement. The Outeniqua Yellowwood can live for over a thousand years and has been known to grow up to sixty meters tall, although this specimen was a mere forty meters or so in height. I decided that this would be the perfect spot to enjoy my early lunch, as my breakfast had comprised only coffee and a few cookies, several hours earlier and I was absolutely ravenous.
I made myself comfortable, nestled between two enormous tree roots, with my back against the trunk of the tree and proceeded to enjoy my sandwiches and fruit. After lunch, I settled back against the tree trunk and glanced around, luxuriating in the breathtaking beauty of the golden sunlight gently filtering through tender green leaves and the wispy tendrils of mist swirling amongst the trees. I closed my eyes and breathed deeply of the atmosphere of this secret and beautiful place. Apart from the birdsong and the occasional rustling of the leaves, due to the hidden presence of forest creatures, it was remarkably peaceful and quiet. I felt decidedly sleepy, having worked till late on my book the previous evening and having made such an early start that morning. I felt myself slipping into a light doze, my head tipped back against the tree trunk. I dreamed of the mysterious elephants of the forest. Silent grey ghosts, slipping along secret pathways between ancient trees, bringing a message of hope; a message of life surviving, against all odds.
Some time later, I was awoken by a voice urgently whispering, “Peter, wake up. Now!” My eyes flew open as I distinctly heard the same voice cautioning, “Be very quiet and don’t move!” From the corner of my eye I caught a bright flash of green light, but before I could even glance in that direction, I heard a crashing in the undergrowth. Turning in the direction of the noise, I gasped in amazement and terror and clapped a shaking hand over my mouth to prevent myself from crying out. Slowly, but inexorably wending her way along the path that passed directly in front of the tree in whose roots I was sheltering, was a massive, grey elephant! And then, my heart nearly stopped when I realised that she was not alone. Following the first elephant was another, and then, yet another! I counted five large female elephants and three calves moving in single file past my position. They moved surprisingly silently for such massive creatures. As they passed, one-by-one, not five meters away from me, I will admit that I had never been so terrified, or so completely exhilarated, in all my life. I sat silently, hardly breathing, every muscle in my body tensed. But, somehow, miraculously, they appeared oblivious to my presence. It was only the final elephant, the largest of the herd - a massive female with a broken tusk - that showed any awareness of my presence. She paused as she ambled past, lifted her trunk and delicately sniffed the air a meter or two away from my sweat-drenched face. She was so close that I could clearly see every deep crevasse in her craggy, leathery face and count each one of her long, grizzled, tangled eyelashes. And then she turned her head to look directly at me, her eyes deep wells of ancient wisdom, patience and acceptance. For a breathless moment of eternity we gazed at each other. Then she made a snorting noise, bobbed her massive head up-and-down a few times, and moved on. The elephants disappeared off the path and into the dense trees up ahead and, within a minute or two, it was as if they had never been there.
I sat for what seemed like hours, immobilized with shock and awe. Gradually my ego-mind took control and I started to think that perhaps I had dreamt or imagined the entire experience. After all, I had been dozing. Perhaps the whole experience had just been some sort of lucid dream, brought on by my surroundings and by my recent preoccupation with the legends of the Knysna elephants. My terrified mind rushed to reassure me that it simply wasn’t possible to have experienced what I thought I had experienced. Eventually I dragged my stiff and painful body into an upright position, staggered to my feet and resumed my hike, now thoroughly convinced that I had indeed imagined the entire event.
But then, just ten metres or so from the Yellowwood tree where I had enjoyed my lunch, I was presented with incontrovertible proof. A massive pile of dung… still gently steaming in the cool forest air.