After my late brunch I moved my chair to a solid patch of shade and browsed through the few snaps I had taken on the morning walk. One was of a calcareous flat, or pan, some five kilometres south of my camp. I had circled round to keep on the right side of the wind, and approached it from the West. The pan was ringed by higher ground – not hills, more like ancient dunes that rose lazily above the even sweep of the Kalahari. As I caught my first glimpses of the pan, I made out some springbuck,...
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