The magic of safari life.

Sunset on the Chobe River.

I hadn’t planned to post a Substack while I’m traveling, but I’ve settled into my guest house here in Cape Town and it feels like the right time to share with you.

Autumn in Cape Town brings fog almost every morning. It’s thick today, the humidity in the air hints that the temperature will be warmer than the last several days. Egyptian Geese, Hadada Ibis, Cape Robins, and Cape White-eyes are calling in the yard. And I am fired up on the potent coffee the cook makes for me every morning. Yesterday I went on a 7km hike in the mountain fynbos, which may not sound far, but it involved a lot of scrabbling over large granite outcroppings. My body is tired today, but my brain is alive with inspiration from the research I’ve been conducting in Cape Town.

It is an adjustment, the contrast between Cape Town’s energy, and being on safari in Botswana. Even though I’ve been here for a week, it’s difficult to shake off safari life.

Zebras in Savuti.

The last time I visited Botswana was in October, which is the end of the dry season. It was a landscape waiting for the rain; the grasses had died back, the trees had yet to leaf out, and the animals were desperate for water. By contrast, April is the end of the rainy season (although this year, as has become the norm, was not that wet of a season.)

Kasane lies on the banks of the Chobe River, so it has a constant source of water, but even from the air, I could see how different the landscape looked. We had a gentle entry into safari life with a boat trip on the Chobe and a last night in the lodge before heading into the bush. Lying in my bed that night though, I was ready to sleep in my tent.

Bee-eater in front of the afternoon storm clouds.

A regular day on safari goes by this schedule: wake at 5:30; at the vehicles by 6 for the morning game drive; tea around 10; return to camp for lunch. After tea at 3; pile back into the vehicles for the evening game drive until dark. Eat dinner, go to bed, repeat. This is not “roughing it”. We have lovely wall tents with cot/beds, amazing food, generous and knowledgeable guides, and staff. Every morning is filled with the possibility of what we’ll see that day. And one of the pleasures of taking this trip with friends, especially this group of friends, is that it didn’t matter if we saw big animals or small ones, birds or bugs, plants, or rocks. We were in it for every part of the experience. That said, we witnessed amazing things. A wildebeest kill with four male lions. A leopard taking down an impala. Vicious bee-eaters bashing their insect dinners. There were also quiet moments: sitting in silence while a female lion called for her pride from a flower covered hillock.

Wild dog hunting lechwe.

It isn’t an experience that is easy to put into words. For those eight days, you step outside yourself, outside of your life. You breathe in the landscape. The soils of Savuti and Moremi work their way into every crease of your skin. That ancient land changes you. I’ve never felt more mortal or more alive than when my ribcage is rattled by the roar of a lion. Or when we walked in the baobab grove that has existed for thousands of years. And you lose sense of time. It becomes a countdown of days left in the bush rather than dates or days of the week.

Ancient baobab grove.

Last night dinner under the stars.

Dave is leading another safari in Botswana, but everyone else has departed. I’m the last of our group still here on the continent. These were already some of my closest friends, but now we are bound through another string of experience. Judging from our lively WhatsApp chats, none of us are quite ready to let go of that strand.

Me by Megan Boldenow

Note: I took mostly video on this trip, but the internet here is too slow for me to upload them for you, so they’ll have to wait until another time.