On Safari Part 1 – Arrival
Our first lion on safari.
That’s a lion. No really, it’s a lion. She’s several hundred pounds of muscle, bone, claw, tooth and ferocity. She’s about six feet away and there’s nothing between us but the open side of a Land Rover. She’s so close you can see the cataract in her eye without a telephoto lens. And that’s another lion beside her.
Genevieve and I just returned from a week’s safari in the Okavango Delta in Botswana, Africa. I didn’t know what to expect – everyone I know who has been there before has been curiously reticent. They’ll say that you must go, that the experience is life-altering, but they’ll stay away from superlatives as if they would diminish the experience. I used to imagine there was some informal, almost Masonic African explorers club with a portrait of David Livingstone on the wall and an initiation blood-oath to not define the experience, but only encourage others to follow. Having now lived it, I can see that in fact there is not need for such a secret society – the event is itself both humbling and intensely difficult to characterize. I found myself describing, for example, the experience of sitting in our tent while an elephant ate a tree so close to it that he kept colliding with the side of our fragile lodging looking for a better angle at the foliage. In a sense he was a gentle giant, but as his bulk filled the window and we realized that even by accident he could cause us grievous injury or death we were awed by his presence, thrilled by our proximity and stuck through with fear as we cowered behind the false cover of our mosquito net in hopes of not attracting his attention and curiosity.
This sort of experience is almost impossible to convey. Those who haven’t been on safari variously shake their heads in disbelief at our apparent exaggeration, state their envy as if it was as exciting but ultimately harmless as a roller-coaster ride or latch onto the terror of the event and state that they’d never want to be in that position. The veteran safari-goer however, merely nods her head sagely, understanding that the reality is an exquisite combination of beauty, awe and fear. In fact a safari – at least Botswana-style – is a study in contrasts, from the country to the lodgings to the animals themselves.
First off, I take of my metaphorical hat to the nation of Botswana. Despite a land-locked position in the center of the world’s most chaotic continent, the nation is a stable, functioning democracy with strong economic growth and a commitment to eco-tourism (it is now the second largest industry in the country after diamonds, of which Botswana is now the world’s largest exporter). With less than 2 million people in a country the size of France, it is sparsely populated and massive tracts of the country have been set aside as national parks. Various companies (such as our hosts, Wilderness Safaris) can get private concessions in the these parks to run photo safaris and set up “camps” (as opposed to hunting safaris, which still exist but are rare – the quotation marks will be explained later).
It may be best to describe the first impression you get upon arrival. After flying to Johannesburg (you can’t get anywhere in southern Africa without flying through Johannesburg) you transfer to a smaller commercial aircraft, probably for the town of Maun (we flew in via Victoria Falls, but that’s a story for another day). From there you transfer to light aircraft (usually a single engine prop) to a remote airstrip that serves between one and half a dozen individual camps. You might think that your safari really begins with this light aircraft flight since the distances are so short that you never go above 1,000 feet or so in altitude, which not only gives you panoramic views of the terrain, but which is also low enough to do a bit of game spotting if you’re lucky. On our own first approach we saw some giraffes from the air as well as some elephants. We thought we now knew what this safari thing was all about, but we had no idea of what was to come.
During our fly-in, the water was at its highest level in 90 years.
Upon landing you are met by an open Land Rover with a friendly driver (it doesn’t matter which driver, they are all friendly) and your feet barely touch the ground before you grab your gear (less than 40 pounds, mind, these are light aircraft) and step up into the stadium seating on the rear of the vehicle and are on your way. Enjoy this moment of dust on your boots – it’s one of the last times your souls will touch the earth before you board another aircraft for your departure in three days’ time. Your safari really begins here, on your drive to the camp, a drive that can last anywhere from 10 minutes to an hour depending on the camp.
Let’s go…
Themocracy
Please tell us all a little bit about the smells of your safari in your next post – it’s the aspect of the place and those experiences I have the hardest time imagining.
Dan, what a great trip. Thanks so much for writing this — I saw it via LinkedIn updates.
I am inspired by your story, and I hope you write more about the thoughts and reflections that you experienced. So far away from the world that we are used to, and so in touch with nature. I’d like to make this journey sometime as well.
One safari I’ve heard of some years ago, which I’ve since been inspired by involved bicycling across the savannah. You camped in seals style wilderness camps, and had to stay up at night on a rotating watch. Although, your allusion to never touching the ground makes me wonder about the safety of this.