On safari in the South Downs Jeremy Seal ventures on a camping holiday with a difference as he checks out the wildlife on the Sussex savannah Daily Telegraph, 8/8/2009
We’re on safari, only in Sussex rather than the Serengeti, which certainly explains the wellies. And the fact that it’s mid-morning, down-time on the African savannah, when we file out of camp to spot the wildlife around, er, Firle. Our guide, a knowledgeable local birder called Charlie, is armed with nothing more than binoculars, his own and the several spare pairs we’re soon having off him once his enthusiasm proves contagious. The Big Five? Our mixed group, families and friends of all ages, is happy to follow Charlie across the chalk uplands of the South Downs as he points out wrens, blackcaps and meadow pipits, and untangles their summer songs.
We’re weekending courtesy of a small outfit, now in its second season, which looks to have junked the manual when it comes to British camping culture. Instead of the usual polarised choice – wild camping, but with the unquestionable privations that the genuine article entails, or the phoney industrialised convenience of numbered pitches, power hook-ups, on-site shower blocks and laundrettes – Safari Britain’s private, beautiful and comprehensively equipped campsite combines pristine remoteness with comfort and traditional style.
The company, true to its name, also throws in complementary guided wildlife and foraging experiences, though on a necessarily more modest scale than one might expect from the African bush. Such ‘kills’ as are experienced here, far from being alpha-predator hunting displays, tend to turn up as dinner, locally sourced, organic and probably prepared by the guests’ own hands. We return from our birding foray to find that Damien from Safari Britain has brought us, in typical fashion, a bag of shot rabbits. Our older daughter Anna, who happens to be sporting a fluffy bunny on her T-shirt, takes this in surprisingly good heart. She even maintains a fascination, albeit appalled, as Damien takes a hatchet to Flopsy in preparation for the evening’s pot.
‘Be sure to remove the scent glands,’ he cautions, pulling something pink from the creature’s posterior. ‘They give a sour taste.’ Decidedly not something you’d learn at your average camping site.
Our group assembles in the course of the previous evening. We bring minimum baggage and directions that lead us down a farm track to Damien. He transfers our weekend bags, along with our boxes of food and drink, to his 4WD for delivery to our tents, pointing us along a path that leads through beech woods, past a rope swing, into camp.
It’s the way to arrive. Our camp occupies a secluded wooded dell hard against the grassy northern slopes of the Downs. A flaming firepit is surrounded by canvas chairs and sawn stumps. Six spacious bell tents, each marked by a lit lantern, form the camp’s outer ring. The overall feel is African, so much so that I can almost sense hyenas in the gloaming. As to furnishings, however, the tents have mattresses, linen and duvets rather than proper beds and ensuite showers. The other striking absence is of on-site staff, which reminds us that this remains camping, however improved, rather than anything approaching the service levels of the truly luxurious mobile safari experience. That said, the fact that we’ll be pouring our own drinks, preparing dinner, doing the dishes, stoking fires and the rest does not seem to count as hardship, not once we’ve begun to appreciate the extent of the available facilities.
A quick glance at the mess tent reveals spacious preparation surfaces, shelves neatly piled with French enamel crockery, gas hobs, cool boxes, copper cooking pots, rails of utensils, chopping boards galore, an efficient bin system, even kebab skewers. Our younger daughter Lizzie, who has been familiarising herself with the surroundings, comes back with rapt descriptions of what she calls the living room; a huge circular yurt on a raised wooden platform, heated by a wood-burning stove, with sofas and cushions, cowhide rugs, Moroccan lanterns, coffee tables and bookshelves with a good selection of kids games. It proves the perfect retreat, cosy and dry, when the inevitable rain drives us inside to eat later that evening.
I wake to the sound of thundering hooves which belong, just for a moment, to stampeding wildebeest before I remember the herd of Exmoor ponies which shares our hillside. Chores await, but the impeccable in-camp organisation – the water bowser, the limitless dry firewood and kindling, the numerous buckets and bowls, the efficient steam kettle with built-in wood burner for heating water – makes light work of them. I’m also taken by the handy, home-built systems; the pulley arrangement for the bucket shower, plus the shower compartment, fashioned from locally beachcombed timbers and backed by an ancient beech. There’s a tree-nailed mirror and a pretty period washstand, with a removable enamel basin, where I shave. The pit loo, also made from drift wood, comes complete with stable doors for varying degrees of privacy, plus a pair of binoculars so users can enliven long stays by scanning the fine views to the north.
After lunch, a number of the adults peel off and set out on the short walk to Charleston, the renowned farmhouse the Bloomsbury Group established as its country retreat. Some of us lead the kids up the steep slopes behind the camp to Firle Beacon. At the top, where we look out over Newhaven and the Cuckmere Valley to the English Channel, a wind-flushed couple are following the South Downs National Trail towards Lewes. We return to find a pair of local falconers have arrived in camp. Safari Britain has arranged for Paul and Brian to give a demonstration of their peregrines. We watch these remarkable birds rip up the sky, scattering pigeons, before swooping on the gloved wrists of their masters. Then it’s back to camp for tea and cake.
Safari Britain’s twin founders, Dan and Chelsea Renton, pop in to check on how we are getting on. They explain that they took their cue from a sibling who ran camps in Africa. ‘The African experience taught us there are better ways of enjoying our own outdoors,’ says Dan. ‘We’ve adapted the model, of course, equipping the camp with the likes of stoves to suit local conditions. But by introducing guests to the natural world and providing them with a beautiful place all of their own, we hope we’ve transformed the British camping experience.’ Sitting around the fire, the kids chasing ponies, the rabbit stew bubbling, the wine uncorked, it certainly feels that way.
Safari Britain (www.safaribritain.com; 07708 871996) runs from May to September. Book the 16-person campsite near Firle exclusively from Friday evening to Sunday evening for £1400, or from Monday evening to Thursday lunchtime for £1200. Otherwise, book individually at £140 per adult and £70 per child (weekends) and £110 per adult and £60 per child (weeks). Prices include all activities and full camp use. Food and drink not provided.
ENDS
We’re weekending courtesy of a small outfit, now in its second season, which looks to have junked the manual when it comes to British camping culture. Instead of the usual polarised choice – wild camping, but with the unquestionable privations that the genuine article entails, or the phoney industrialised convenience of numbered pitches, power hook-ups, on-site shower blocks and laundrettes – Safari Britain’s private, beautiful and comprehensively equipped campsite combines pristine remoteness with comfort and traditional style.
The company, true to its name, also throws in complementary guided wildlife and foraging experiences, though on a necessarily more modest scale than one might expect from the African bush. Such ‘kills’ as are experienced here, far from being alpha-predator hunting displays, tend to turn up as dinner, locally sourced, organic and probably prepared by the guests’ own hands. We return from our birding foray to find that Damien from Safari Britain has brought us, in typical fashion, a bag of shot rabbits. Our older daughter Anna, who happens to be sporting a fluffy bunny on her T-shirt, takes this in surprisingly good heart. She even maintains a fascination, albeit appalled, as Damien takes a hatchet to Flopsy in preparation for the evening’s pot.
‘Be sure to remove the scent glands,’ he cautions, pulling something pink from the creature’s posterior. ‘They give a sour taste.’ Decidedly not something you’d learn at your average camping site.
Our group assembles in the course of the previous evening. We bring minimum baggage and directions that lead us down a farm track to Damien. He transfers our weekend bags, along with our boxes of food and drink, to his 4WD for delivery to our tents, pointing us along a path that leads through beech woods, past a rope swing, into camp.
It’s the way to arrive. Our camp occupies a secluded wooded dell hard against the grassy northern slopes of the Downs. A flaming firepit is surrounded by canvas chairs and sawn stumps. Six spacious bell tents, each marked by a lit lantern, form the camp’s outer ring. The overall feel is African, so much so that I can almost sense hyenas in the gloaming. As to furnishings, however, the tents have mattresses, linen and duvets rather than proper beds and ensuite showers. The other striking absence is of on-site staff, which reminds us that this remains camping, however improved, rather than anything approaching the service levels of the truly luxurious mobile safari experience. That said, the fact that we’ll be pouring our own drinks, preparing dinner, doing the dishes, stoking fires and the rest does not seem to count as hardship, not once we’ve begun to appreciate the extent of the available facilities.
A quick glance at the mess tent reveals spacious preparation surfaces, shelves neatly piled with French enamel crockery, gas hobs, cool boxes, copper cooking pots, rails of utensils, chopping boards galore, an efficient bin system, even kebab skewers. Our younger daughter Lizzie, who has been familiarising herself with the surroundings, comes back with rapt descriptions of what she calls the living room; a huge circular yurt on a raised wooden platform, heated by a wood-burning stove, with sofas and cushions, cowhide rugs, Moroccan lanterns, coffee tables and bookshelves with a good selection of kids games. It proves the perfect retreat, cosy and dry, when the inevitable rain drives us inside to eat later that evening.
I wake to the sound of thundering hooves which belong, just for a moment, to stampeding wildebeest before I remember the herd of Exmoor ponies which shares our hillside. Chores await, but the impeccable in-camp organisation – the water bowser, the limitless dry firewood and kindling, the numerous buckets and bowls, the efficient steam kettle with built-in wood burner for heating water – makes light work of them. I’m also taken by the handy, home-built systems; the pulley arrangement for the bucket shower, plus the shower compartment, fashioned from locally beachcombed timbers and backed by an ancient beech. There’s a tree-nailed mirror and a pretty period washstand, with a removable enamel basin, where I shave. The pit loo, also made from drift wood, comes complete with stable doors for varying degrees of privacy, plus a pair of binoculars so users can enliven long stays by scanning the fine views to the north.
After lunch, a number of the adults peel off and set out on the short walk to Charleston, the renowned farmhouse the Bloomsbury Group established as its country retreat. Some of us lead the kids up the steep slopes behind the camp to Firle Beacon. At the top, where we look out over Newhaven and the Cuckmere Valley to the English Channel, a wind-flushed couple are following the South Downs National Trail towards Lewes. We return to find a pair of local falconers have arrived in camp. Safari Britain has arranged for Paul and Brian to give a demonstration of their peregrines. We watch these remarkable birds rip up the sky, scattering pigeons, before swooping on the gloved wrists of their masters. Then it’s back to camp for tea and cake.
Safari Britain’s twin founders, Dan and Chelsea Renton, pop in to check on how we are getting on. They explain that they took their cue from a sibling who ran camps in Africa. ‘The African experience taught us there are better ways of enjoying our own outdoors,’ says Dan. ‘We’ve adapted the model, of course, equipping the camp with the likes of stoves to suit local conditions. But by introducing guests to the natural world and providing them with a beautiful place all of their own, we hope we’ve transformed the British camping experience.’ Sitting around the fire, the kids chasing ponies, the rabbit stew bubbling, the wine uncorked, it certainly feels that way.
Safari Britain (www.safaribritain.com; 07708 871996) runs from May to September. Book the 16-person campsite near Firle exclusively from Friday evening to Sunday evening for £1400, or from Monday evening to Thursday lunchtime for £1200. Otherwise, book individually at £140 per adult and £70 per child (weekends) and £110 per adult and £60 per child (weeks). Prices include all activities and full camp use. Food and drink not provided.
ENDS