BOTSWANA

10 July to 29 July, 2019

Usually traveling independently, I had some trepidation booking a seventeen day guided camping safari. However, I was not up to the challenge of driving through the wilderness and camping on my own. I decided to compromise my freedom and solitude for an experience I would otherwise forgo: an extensive encounter with Botswana’s wild life. The safari began in Maun.

Coming from my overnight camping trip in Chobe, the short flight from Kasane to Maun went well. Arriving at the airport, I waited for my bag, and waited. I asked employees, on three different occasions where I should pick up my luggage. All of them instructed me to stay where I was. Some time later I see a man pushing a cart toward me. My bag was the only item on it. He had been waiting for me in another area of the tiny airport and was on his was to drop my bag off at the lost luggage. I noted it would be best in the future to do my own investigating rather than rely on the advice of others.

With bag in hand I looked for the transport I’d arranged from the airport to my accommodations, the Maun Lodge. Already delayed, I was surprised it wasn’t waiting for me. After another thirty minutes, I called the lodge and was cheerfully told someone would be leaving now to pick me up.

I’d met a man from Maun at Afrikaburn and from his description I envisioned a quaint town where I could spend a few days and explore it on foot. My plan had been to relax there before setting off on the camping safari.

But the short drive from the airport on a busy road, with no sign of a quaint anything, shattered my expectations. The road was dusty and heavily trafficked with an array of motorized vehicles; some horses and cows wandering freely.

Later, returning to the reception, my idea of walking to a restaurant for lunch was quickly nixed.  A woman at the reception told me, “You’ll need to take a taxi to get anywhere, it’s not safe to walk around here and everything is far.”  She suggested I go to the “Old” shopping mall. I suspect my face revealed my disappointment. I asked her how to get there.

I was escorted by a slight elderly gentleman, wearing a green uniform with gold epaulets, to the roadside. He waved down a shared taxi and speaking in Tswana, the country’s official language (besides English), gave my destination to the driver.  The two other passengers, a couple, made room for me in the back seat.  I paid the driver with the five pula coin (about 45 cents) I’d borrowed from the woman at reception. I had no local currency (a visit to an ATM would soon change that) .

The “Old” shopping mall was a number of large stores selling clothing, food, electronic and household goods, and simple wooden stands displaying more of the same encircled a large parking lot.  Makeshift nail salons and hair dresser stands selling wigs and extensions were busy with customers. American country and western music was blaring from speakers in the center and seemed markedly out-of-place. I asked a vendor about the music and she shrugged, then added. ” I think they’re trying to sell something.”

Lunch options were slim: Wimpy’s, Bimbo’s, and KFC. Fast food reigned. I walked across the street to Debonairs, a pizza chain, for a decent vegetable pizza. Afterwards I looked for a pair of pants and shirt to take on the camping trip, and despite the friendly, patient assistance of the vendors, I left empty-handed.

The three days and nights in Maun passed pleasantly: I had time to chat with the locals, including two young women studying plumbing and another hoping to heal a broken heart : despite a nearby night club which made sleeping before midnight a challenge.

I met the guide, Robson, and the cook, KK, a day before our departure. Robson displayed a cockiness in marked contrast with KK’s reserve. For the first five days it would only be them, a German family of four, and me exploring the Central Kalahari Game Reserve. We would be joined later by seven French tourists to head into the Okavango Delta and beyond .

Central Kalahari Game Reserve in the early hours

The seven of us set off in an open safari truck with four rows of seats for the passengers. The family and I had plenty of room to stretch out. Morning hours were downright cold and the wind added to the chill. We bundled up in several layers and huddled under the blankets we were given as we set off to the game reserve. The paved road was soon replaced with a sandy track that ran along an endless fence to deter the spread of hoof and mouth disease among the livestock.

It wasn’t that long ago that cattle ranching superseded any concerns for the multitudes of wild animals that migrated freely for food and water: the fences denied wildebeest, gazelles and other magnificent beasts access to crucial water holes and streams leading to their devastating demise.

A slow-starting, but ultimately fascinating account of this struggle can be found in Mark and Delia Owens book, Cry of the Kalahari. Thanks to their efforts, and others, the Botswana economy shifted to promote tourism and the preservation of its glorious resources.

Our camp in the Kalahari

Our accommodations were the canvas two-person tents we set up ourselves (with assistance from each other). Foam mattresses were supplied. Toilets were of the bush variety: a seat on a stand over a hole in the ground. A small pile of dirt and shovel were provided for “flushing”. Our drinking water was filtered from the large tank that traveled with us and our scarce water supply for washing was unfiltered. I relied primarily on wet-wipes for my personal hygiene.

All cooking, including our bread, was done on an open fire. When asked about dietary restrictions I had written that I ate some meat, but preferred a vegetarian diet. After the first week of virtually nothing but meat, I gently requested more variety. KK managed to create some delicious options.

Our days followed the typical safari schedule. This meant waking up between 5:30am and 6:00am for breakfast: breaking camp when necessary (every or every other day): then heading out wearing my many layers for a three plus hour game drive; a tea/coffee break about 10am; lunch around noon and a return to or setting up camp, then given the heat, I would strip down to one layer; another game drive around 4pm until sunset around 6pm; dinner around 7pm when I would put back all those same layers and get into my sleeping bag for sleep around 9pm.

I resigned myself to the regimented lifestyle and focused instead on starting and ending each day by a camp fire and enjoying extraordinary sights and sounds during each waking moment.

And in addition to the schedule there were other changes to the lifestyle in the bush. Any necessary night “small business” we were advised, should be done cautiously: “Listen while inside your tent, open the flap and look around with your flashlight, listen again, step out of the tent, walk a few steps to the side or back of it, do not wander off, head back in without delay.”

I noticed the others opted to bypass this ritual altogether by avoiding any intake of liquids after 4pm. But I feared dehydration, given the heat, more than I did an encounter with a wild beast. Besides, I thoroughly enjoyed the nightly show of the moon and stars.

The rewards largely outweighed any inconvenience or discomfort.

The rising moon was a nightly spectacle made the more wondrous by the opposing setting sun .
The sun set early, around 6pm, but always offered a beautiful show.
Camping in the Kalahari
A view of the Kalahari from our safari truck.

When you go on an African Safari, generally the goal is to see “The Big Five”: lion, leopard, rhinoceros, elephant, cape buffalo. There is  also the “Ugly Five”: hyena, wildebeest, vulture, warthog, and marabou stork, the “Little Five”, “Shy Five,” etc..

The longer the safari, the greater the chance of seeing what you hope to. I tried to keep my expectations to a minimum, but that didn’t stop me from keeping my fingers crossed.

During the dry season, water is very scarce. This mongoose, birds, and bees came to our camp in search of it.
These hot cooking pots did not dissuade birds in search of water.
The mongoose did not hesitate to get close.
We were invited to participate in a nature walk led by local San Bushmen trackers.It was in large part “theatre.” Traditional life of the Bushmen can no longer be found in the area, if anywhere.
This man shivered in the morning chill with little to keep him warm. He and his partner put on a show demonstrating the traditional life of their forebears. These men came from families who lived on this land for countless generations and have since adapted to the modern world’s infringement on their domain.
The ubiquitous Kori Bustard, the largest flying bird native to Africa, never failed to amuse us with its strut and flight.

 

 

 

A bat-eared fox could be spotted from a distance with its distinctive outline.

Survival in the unforgiving Kalahari is difficult. This Fork-tailed Drango is feeding on a Scaly-feathered Finch.
We spotted this leopard eyeing a young wildebeest lying in the grass. We watched as it patiently gained ground, then retreated when adult wildebeests approached. But undeterred returned later for the kill. Its patience was rewarded, and admittedly ours to watch the event unfold.
The leopard seeks a better perspective prior to the kill.
The Hornbill, a common bird, with tremendous personality, was never far.
A gazelle trying his luck.
A sighting of a honey badger going about his/her business.
A stripped hyena was a rare sight for us.

Heading back to Maun to meet the French tourists we made time for a flight over the Okavango Delta. I had the pleasure of sitting next to the pilot.

The long drought left few patches of blue. This was a welcome sight flying over the Okavango Delta.
We were transported through the delta and camped two nights with our drivers. It was a festive time.
Loading our supplies for our two night trip into the delta.
Local women gathering wood for our fire. My efforts were refused. The wood I chose “would lead to their cattle giving birth to only bulls.”
Long poles and steady balance were key in guiding our canoes.
Going first left my companion, our driver, and me with an unobstructed view of the beautiful delta reeds and waterway, but also an unexpected close encounter with a wading elephant. Our driver banged his pole against the canoe to shoo the elephant off.
View from our camp in the delta.
Another night in the delta.

After the Okavango Delta we traveled to the Moremi Game Reserve. I was told we were almost certainly going to see lions there.

Moremi Game Reserve.
Majestic lions at rest
Watching the display of affection was entrancing.
Curious, but unfazed by our presence, these young lions walked right in front of our truck.
Lions can laze about for hours…
…and hours.
But can be difficult to see.
Attempting to get a closer look, our truck got bogged in the sand. It took another truck to haul us out. It provided some entertaining viewing for the on looking lion.
Hearing the call and response of a pride of lions is a sound I hope to never forget.
Lioness at dusk.
A lilac-breasted roller. Always a welcome sight.
Giraffes moving with grace and elegance.
The delicate features of a giraffe.
And the giraffes’ effective camouflage.
Admittedly one could tire of seeing herd upon herd of gazelles. But I never tired of seeing giraffes.
The same was true for the elephants. They were always a joy to see.
No risk of getting lost this way.
I expected an elephant to nurse like a calf, toward the rear, but the teets of an elephant are up front like humans.
A dusty face after some play.
Seeing herds of antelope became anti-climatic. But their beauty can not be denied.
The sight of zebras never failed to please.
Moremi Game Reserve bookends
Another encounter with a leopard resting after its meal. A mostly devoured gazelle hangs up in the tree just out of the frame.

After Moremi we headed to Chobe.

Warthogs battling for territory.
An African fish eagle didn’t seem to miss a thing.
Shadow of our truck out on a game drive.
Activity along the Chobe River
Hippo peering from the Chobe River
The African or Cape Buffalo
And its herd.
A thoughtful gaze
Standing under an ancient baobab tree.
Some locals heading into the reserve.
Lions feasting on their kill.
A fresh meal.
A rare sighting of wild dogs in the distance.
Evening along the Chobe River.
Baby baboon’s easy transport
The cycle of life.
Chobe Nature Reserve: The final night of our camping safari.
Back to civilization and return to Kasane.
Market at Kasane then a return to Vic Falls for a flight to South Africa for some R&R.

My expectations were met and exceeded ten-fold.

Returning back to Vic Falls I decided to treat myself to another sunset cruise. As the beauty of the moment unfurled, the wonderous images from Botswana did too.

My flight to Cape Town was the following day.