After our arrival on the air strip, it took us an hour or so to navigate the off road tracks to get to our destination, Chitabe Camp (see the satellite view for an idea how remote this is). Before we got more than ten minutes from the airstrip, however, we started seeing wildlife. It began with elephants.

It began with elephants. Doesn't everything good begin with elephants?
I added that picture before trying to describe it. My mental immune system was sufficiently degraded from intercontinental travel, our guide’s blase gesture and my experiences seeing elephants variously in the zoo and on TV that it took me a minute to process that in front of my was several thousands pounds of pachydermal power and that I was the one on display, not the other way about. This might be a good moment to affirm, reaffirm and affirm until it’s so firm you could drive a nail into it with a sledgehammer that there is no similarity, however much you might think there should be, with anything you’ve seen on the Nature Channel or behind bars in a zoo with the impression a wild elephant makes on you in nature. A Mark Twain put it, it’s the difference between the lightning and a lightning bug. At the time all I found myself saying was, “That’s an elephant! An elephant! Elephants!” This is very hard to deny when you see the creature before you. There is very little in the world that is so present as an elephant.
Shortly after seeing the first group of elephants, we came upon a giraffe. Unlike the elephants, there is something about a giraffe that looks made up, cartoonish, like a child’s impression of a horse with disproportionate legs and neck or some kind of yellow-spotted oil derrick. This one combined its already eccentric appearance with a sort of teenage gangliness accentuated by a goofy grin. This giraffe was clearly designed for the purpose of putting visitors at their ease. Though much taller than the elephants there was no possible way to believe that this guy would hurt you even if you roundly abused him – he was the giraffe equivalent of your cute little niece in her first little dress.
After a few other encounters, we finally came to the camp. Now for the explanation of the previous quotation marks. When told that we were staying in a “tent” in a “camp”, a certain image was conjured in my imagination born of many family canoe trips. It was an image involving nylon loops and tent poles, ground stakes and rain flies, stuck zippers and the lesser known ballroom step of a half turn through a partially opened door flap while removing your shoes, while trying to prevent the accumulated dirt caked on them and the ambient cloud of mosquitoes from penetrating any more than possible. The Tent Tango if you will. Nothing could be further from the truth. Chitabe, a so-called classic camp, it build entirely on a series of elevated wooden platforms connected by boardwalks at approximately two meters above the surrounding earth. The main platform, or tent as they will insist on calling it, actually has a thatched roof, bar area, couches, chaises, the occasional table and a fire pit. An adjoining platform houses a dining room table with buffet and yet a third the notorious loo-with-a-view, a toilet with total privacy from the other tents, but a view out over the surrounding districts in case you wish to do a bit of hyena-spotting with your business. The tents themselves have all the amenities – 24-hour generator power, en-suite shower and toilet (as well as an outdoor shower for the exhibitionist or shower-spotter), a king bed, ample mosquito netting surrounding the aforementioned bed, an electric fan, two vanities and even a hotel-style safe. Aside from some vestiges of canvas in the walls, the total lack of any communications devices of any kind and a sort of insect background level that never really goes away even during this, the dry season, it made for a room that would not embarrass an American Hilton and would put many lesser hotels to shame.
We were given our safety briefing by Dawson, the camp manager, which basically amounted to this – don’t touch any animals and if you are going about at night, make sure a staff member accompanies you (as we were to find out later, the boardwalk to our tent was quite long – a good five minute walk – so this wasn’t like saying you mustn’t cross the street without a crossing guard). Dawson also introduced us to the safari schedule, which goes something like this: rise before dawn (5:30AM or so), get picked up at 6AM by your staff escort and stroll to the main tent for a spot of coffee and bite of toast. Climb aboard your Land Rover for a 4-hour game drive returning for brunch around 11AM. Following brunch, you sleep a bit (like the lions – they sleep 18 hours a day or more) showing up around 3:30PM for tea (English tea – it includes a bite to eat). From 4PM until 7:30 or so you are back aboard the Land Rover stopping briefly for sun downers (there it means drinks with sunset not advanced retirees) before returning to camp for dinner, summoned thence by a blow on a kudu horn, which is best thought of as a shofar that has enjoyed a healthy diet and exercise enabling it to grow to five times its normal proportions.
After the briefing, Dawson escorted us to our tent. On our way, however, we were waylaid by Grumpy Bob, who, along with Tsunami, comprised the pair of elephants that frequented Chitabe Camp. Don’t get the idea that the camp is fenced – by no means. Your two meters of altitude may inconvenience snakes and I’m told that hippos cannot jump, but from the point of view of an elephant, it merely brings you to eye (or as it may be trunk) level. This would be convenient if elephants carried your bags. It is less so if you are afraid they may carry away your wife. Neither of these occurrences ensued.

When an elephant decides to block your path, you aren't going anywhere.