Adventures in Botswana: Into the Delta

Far north in the Planalto highlands of Angola, rains fall and gather into the tributaries of the Cuito and Cubango Rivers. They eventually become the Okavango River, flowing through the Namibia panhandle and into Botswana, where water slowly spreads into a vast alluvial delta in the northern Kalahari. 

Unlike most rivers that flow into an ocean or sea, the Okavango spreads fan-like into a huge inland area, soaking into the ground and forming permanent marshland and seasonally flooding plains. Because the altitude of the Angolan highlands is just 200 meters higher than Delta, it takes months for this rainwater to reach the flat Kalahari basin. During Botswana’s dry winter season, the waters in the Okavango lures hundreds of species into the maze of channels, islands, and lagoons. It is the perfect time for game viewing, and we did it in two locations in the Delta.

Traditionally, land in Botswana was divided up into private ‘concessions,’ hunting areas managed by private companies or local communities. They have transitioned into conservation and tourist areas, and only a handful of companies are allocated to each concession (and no self-drive tourists are allowed in), visiting them gives a more intimate experience. It was an absolute highlight to spend 3 nights wild camping near the Santantadibe River, on a piece of concession land called NG 32.

Our campsite was surprisingly comfortable given we had signed up for a “wild camping” experience. We were greeted each arrival with hot towels, and each canvas tent had its own private (albeit with no roof) bathroom in the back (although, we were warned to shine a light out before stepping out, since there were snakes and spiders that could drop down from the trees. On one side of the camp was a marshy area and watering hole that we were allowed to walk to, but the back side was forbidden as it was forested and we might get turned around and… well, eaten. And we weren’t allowed outside our tents at night, because who knows what might be prowling around.

But how wild was it really? True, we could hear crickets and frogs and hippos and the occasional hyena calling or elephant rustling all night long, but how close could they get? Turns out, pretty darn close. At lunch the next day, a herd of elephants came to drink in the watering hole, then another surrounded us at the back of camp. And early the following morning, four lion brothers surrounded the marsh, vocalizing to each other and coming alarmingly close to camp. None of the workers seemed bothered, but it definitely made for an exciting breakfast. 

Turns out, the lions were looking for breakfast too – and as we departed a few minutes later, we came across them gorging on their fresh Cape buffalo kill not far from camp.

NG 32 is a huge, 260,000 acre area in the southernmost part of the Delta, so it drier than many of the other areas of the Okavango. As we drove through, we passed open savannah with swathes of fragrant wild sage, stands of mopane or raintree scrubland (all a fairly consistent 10-12 ft tall; we assumed trimmed by elephants), woodland with jackalberry, knobthorn, raintree, leadwood, mopane, and the occasional palm tree.

Because most animals are crepuscular or nocturnal, we woke up each morning at 5:30 and were on our way by 6am, before sunrise. Although we were in the tropics, it was winter and the dry season in the desert so it was particularly cold in the early morning and evenings. Thick wool blankets and hot water bottles, which we called our ‘bushbabies,’ kept us warm until the sun came up. A second game drive in the afternoon meant another chance to spot wildlife, and we returned to camp each evening after dark.

Game drives in Africa are a feast of senses. For the most part, we rode around in open safari vehicles, bouncing and jostling and receiving an “African massage” as we made our way down rutted dirt roads. A fine powder of dust blows everywhere, and we all pulled up our scarves and buffs up to stop the dirt from going up our noses. But that didn’t block the strong, delicious scent of wild sage that I now associate with Botswana (nor did it keep out the sickly-sweet pungent tang of rotting elephant that we could smell from nearly half a kilometer away).

Master drove with one eye on the dirt, not just looking at animal tracks but following them and reading the stories of each creature. How he could identify the different footprints from a moving vehicle was amazing, and their direction gave guidance on where to go to spot different animals. In these concession lands outside the National Parks, you don’t have to stay on any established roads so we often veered into the bush in pursuit of elusive predators.

Explaining different animal tracks

Our favorite experience was tracking a hunting pack of African wild dogs – they were high on our “wish list” and Master was determined to find them. These endangered predators are difficult to spot, since they roam across enormous home ranges. In the far distance, small herds of impala had been racing across the plains, movement that told Master something had spooked them. He soon found dog tracks, and we spend the next half hour driving in wide loops, sometimes reversing as he spotted another fresh set of prints. When we came upon our own tire tracks with newly laid tracks on top, he was frustrated – if we had just stayed put, they would have run right into us!

Then, as Master was talking to a small group of people camping in the trees, David suddenly spotted movement ahead of us. A wild dog, racing across about 50 yards ahead of us! It quickly ran along a thicket of trees, then turned into the thick brush. It was a brief sighting but exhilarating, nonetheless. Master was disappointed that we couldn’t follow as there was no way around to follow, but we were all thrilled that we caught that quick glimpse of this amazing predator! Master was truly a master of tracking and wildlife spotting.

An experience I really enjoyed was floating down the river channels by mokoro. A mokoro is a dugout canoe, traditionally made with a hardwood like a sausage tree or leadwood (but is now usually made from fiberglass). A poler stands at one end, maneuvering the craft through the waterways. The banks of the streams were lined with various sedges, grasses, and reeds, and the channels were filled with waterlilies and other aquatic plants. It was a peaceful way to experience the delta, away from the dust and noise of the safari vehicles, and getting close to the water.

Unseen male swamp boubou whistle single, flute-like calls in their attempt to attract a mate. As the sun begins to set, tiny reed frogs join the chorus with their hollow wooden-bell chirps. 

Termites in elephant poop

Male giraffe poop

We also got a chance to go on a bushwalk to truly experience the land. We were told to wear neutral colors and to walk in a single file line, so as not to startle any wildlife. It was nerve-racking when a nearby palm tree was violently shaken, especially since we couldn't see the offending elephant that was hidden in the brush underneath.

We learned to identify different kinds of scat - the most interesting was the male giraffe, distinguished from the female giraffe poop by the little knob on one end, as well as the elephant dung that hosted a new colony of termites feasting on all the undigested bark. We examined a sausage tree and admired how heavy the 'sausage' fruit was (and hoped one didn't fall on our heads as we stood underneath!), and looked for dung beetles.

Slaughter by sausage tree

A lovely leisurely lunch

On our way back to camp, we stopped in Ditshiping, Master's home village. We visited the school (where children aged 3-6 were attending - after age 7, they were shipped off to Maun for further schooling). It was impressive that they could recite the names and definitions of all the shapes, especially given English wasn't their home language! 

The village was clean and well maintained, with two communal water pumps that were powered by solar panels. Most of the houses were built in the traditional way, with sedge thatched roofs and mud walls built over a mopane wood frame. 

After touring the village, we had a music and dance performance and we joined in with dancing. Even though it seems like this is something they do for every tourist, they seemed bashful and Master was strangely delighted to watch us dance. All in all, a fun experience and a lovely way to end our time in NG 32.

Our final lodge was along the Khwai River near the Moremi Game Reserve on the northern boundary of the Delta. In an unexpected surprise, we transferred over via helicopter instead of the small prop plane that we were expecting. Getting to ride in a helicopter meant we flew at a lower elevation and slower, so we had an amazing bird's eye view of the delta. (And, in fact, I spotted a couple large birds soaring through the sky below us!) From up high, it was much more obvious that we were in the dry season, with the golden brown of dried grass and dirt dominating the landscape, with dark ribbons of water winding through.

Can you spot the elephant family?

Khwai is a much more touristy area with multiple lodges and fewer animals, but our lodge at Khwai Expeditions Camp was a lovely place to relax and wind down. David and I continued going on game drives each day, and while we didn’t see the abundance of wildlife that was in NG 32, there was always something new and exciting that made it interesting.

A wee croc with wee teeth

We were able to take a boat trip to Xakanaxa, one of the permanent lagoons along the Maunachira River. With a permanent water source, the marsh grasses were much taller, and there were reeds, hippo grass, and papyrus lining the channels. Several Nile crocodile swam in the waters, including a tiny baby that was about a week old. 

There were so many different water birds, including the world's smallest goose, the pygmy goose, African jacana, and a black-shouldered kite. It was exciting to see a African marsh harrier catch and eat a frog.

It's a baaaad day to be that frog...

Before we'd set off, we pulled out David's wildlife book and found more elusive species to put on our wish list to see. Although it was unlikely, we decided we wanted to add a spotted-necked otter, a charmingly cute river otter with a spotted white bib on its chest. And of course, we still needed to see David's sitatunga, the shaggy-coated water antelope with thick spiral horns. This was the sitatunga's habitat, but the book claimed that sitatunga were shy animals that could swim underwater when trying to evade predators. It would be a miracle if we saw one.

The holy grail sighting!
A sitatunga!

It's hard to tell, but spotted-
necked otters are adorable!

But apparently it was our lucky day! (Let's be honest - luckily our guide was good!) We caught glimpses of both, albeit briefly. The spotted-necked otter kept poking its head out of the water to look at us, but would quickly duck back under like the best target in whack-a-mole. It was nearly impossible to get a photo, but fun to try!

And we didn't see the sitatunga until we had basically given up on the search. We had already stopped several times to search and our guide had even climbed to the roof to try and spot one. Just as we were nearly back at the dock, he suddenly stopped the boat and said there was a sitatunga, and I thought he was totally joking.

It was right in front of us but nearly hidden, with just a peek of its back showing, before moving on behind higher grass. We did it!!

Overall, I preferred the less touristy wild-camping experience that allowed us to immerse ourselves in the landscape. Being in the game reserve meant running into many other vehicles, breathing the dust kicked up by their cars and seeing more humans than wild animals. It also meant a less intimate experience. 

I'd be grumpy too...

No, really. There's a leopard there.

For example, there was a leopard resting under a bush (which felt odd as it was completely surrounded by vehicles), with cars getting uncomfortably close and crowding the leopard’s space. There is a rule (not sure if it is just an unspoken courtesy) that you should only stay 5 minutes in order to let other vehicles get a chance to see the wildlife, but a few of the self-drive cars were ignoring the rules and had to be told off by the professional guides. I felt as though the encounter was more like going to the zoo – so I was thankful we’d had a much more authentic experience in NG 32.

Regardless of where we were, seeing an animal in its natural habitat (and especially knowing there is nothing between you and it) is a breathtaking thrill. Check out my next post to see what animals we saw!

Adventures in Botswana: Arrival

There is nothing quite like the opportunity to see animals in their natural habitat - and an African safari means a chance to see some of the most legendary animals on the planet. Having been to Tanzania last year, I was keen to return to the continent. As one of the most stable and successful countries in Africa, Botswana focuses on high cost/low impact tourism - meaning fewer people and high-end lodges with responsible and sustainable practices. Plus, the Okavango Delta is one of the most interesting places on the planet. Of course we’d go! 

I was lucky enough that Anil and David, my friends from Cambridge who work in conservation (and who traveled with me to the Amazon in 2022) were both just as eager to go on safari. David lived in Zambia many years ago, and Botswana has always been on his wish list. David is a forest ecologist who, like Anil, works with data and computation to study biodiversity, conservation, and ecology. When we went to the Amazon, it was David who helped explain rainforest flora and got me excited about each individual tree and vine that we saw. He’s bringing his 17-year old son Samuel (who was 13 when we all went to Peru together!!) to round out our group. The trip wasn't solely for fun - their project is to map all the habitats of the world, and using satellite imagery, build prediction models. To help, they wanted on-the-ground images to compare with their GPS satellite data, so we'd take photos from the field. We were also planning to meet with researchers from the Okavango Research Institute in Maun, and Anil was hoping to build collaborations.

I traveled to Cambridge a few days early, mostly to give myself time to adjust to jetlag. A good thing, because I was exhausted and loopy for the first few days! It’s always fun being in Cambridge – but I don’t remember it being so full of tourists (who weirdly stop outside Anil’s front door to gawk at the hangman’s sign hanging from the wall outside – and you can clearly hear each tour guide’s hangman story from the living room, and Anil mumbling “No, that’s a lie!” each time…!🤣)

Kasane and Chobe National Park

We arrived in Botswana after a too-long 11-hour flight from London to Johannesburg (where we met up with David and Samuel), then another 2 hour flight to Kasane. It was a nice 'welcome to Africa' moment to see the baboon sitting in the middle street and the impala on the side of the road, as well as the many colorful birds on the telephone wires – all on the 15-minute ride from the airport to the hotel! 

We purposely arrived a day early so that we could relax and get acclimated before the trip began, but we loved seeing all the birds (and sociable spiders) on the hotel grounds and practicing with our binoculars and cameras. Tlou was right next to a Nando’s (a popular fast-food chicken restaurant that they have in England), so Anil and Sam were happy to walk over for a late lunch.

There's nothing quite like a G&T (or, just a T) in Africa!

The next morning, we took a quick taxi ride to Cresta Mowana Lodge – a lovely resort right on the Chobe River. The Chobe River is the international border with Namibia (and just 15 km further downstream is the Bonazazi border – where Botswana, Namibia, Zambia, and Zimbabwe meet at the confluence of the Chobe and Zambezi Rivers). After a relaxing afternoon (with David and Anil enjoying the much-talked-about gin and tonics, and Sam and I enjoying just the tonic) on the sundeck, we took a sunset cruise to get an introduction to the wildlife that relies on the permanent water of the river.

Elephants, hippos, crocodile, buffalo, birds... it's teeming!

We motored a quick 15-minutes upstream, to the boundary of Chobe National Park where the largest island of the Chobe River is located. Sedudu Island seasonally floods, and the marshy environment hosts so much life! 

From the boat, we saw elephant families and pods of hippos, marabou storks and African darters. There were large Nile crocodiles and Nile monitor lizards, plus antelope that I hadn’t seen before: waterbucks with their distinctive ‘toilet seat’ white rings around their rumps and red lechwes – one of the most common antelope in the swampy marsh. 

This African darter got photobombed
by that Nile monitor lizard

If you can't suck your own trunk, suck someone else's.

I, too, luv mud.

Yellow-billed storks are bee-you-tiful

Taking the cruise also gave us a spectacular view of the vivid African sunset, which seems more vibrant than those back home. 

Returning to the lodge, we saw warthogs and a Chobe bushbuck wandering the grounds. Now it made sense that we were warned not to leave the resort’s marked paths and walkways!

Kasane is also a convenient drive to Chobe National Park, Botswana’s first National Park and home to a huge variety of animal species. Early the next morning we embarked on our first game drive. On the way to the park, we were lucky enough to spy two porcupines in the dark hours of the early morning, then when we got into the park one of our first sightings was of a honey badger. Seeing these elusive species solidified the feeling that we were truly in a special place! 

Getting up close and personal with the wildlife

The most exciting sighting was a giraffe being chased by a solitary young male lion, with a black backed jackal tagging behind. The lion of course failed and sheepishly slunk away while a very bored lioness watched from afar. Sam got a nice video of the action!

Nata and Elephant Sands

That afternoon, we met our guide Chandra who would be with us the next few days. Our next stop was to the northern edge of the Kalahari, where we wanted to see the salt pans. It was a 4-hour drive along a VERY pot-holed highway down to Nata, a very straight road through scrubby savannah and sparse areas of agriculture. There were no amenities along the way – just the occasional troop of baboons or elephant. 

We spent the night at Elephant Sands, a watering hole with surrounding tent cabins that draws local elephants looking for water. While it was cool to be so close to the wildlife, there was something a bit exploitative in the feel of the place – perhaps because the first thing we saw were tourists who were hand-feeding the hornbills. 

IDing Bradfield's Hornbills was easy!

Red-headed weaver birds make nests to try and impress the ladies

Dinner show at Elephant Sands

Later that evening as we were enjoying dinner, two large elephants came to drink in the watering hole (but again, nobody stopped the tourists who were pointing their flashlights directly in the elephant’s eyes and using flashes for their photos). Still, it was a remarkable experience to be that close to wildlife, and to get a little taste of why human-wildlife interactions are beginning to cause problems in Africa.

Sleeping under the Stars

The following morning, we drove to Gweta and transferred to an open jeep for our ride to Ntwetwe Pan, one of the three main areas of the Makgadikgadi Pans. Two million years ago, these salt pans were once a huge inland lake that covered an area the size of Switzerland. Over time, the water evaporated leaving behind a concentration of salt and minerals. In the dry season, a salty clay crust covers a vast, flat expanse that seems endlessly desolate. 

On the way, we stopped to see a huge baobab tree that was supposedly around 1,500 years old. The huge trunk stores water, allowing the baobab to survive the harsh environment. Baobabs are sometimes referred to as the “upside down tree,” mainly because in the dry season their bare branches look like roots spreading up in the sky.

This area, while seemingly a harsh and desolate environment, has been home to the Kalahari Bushmen (the San people) for tens of thousands of years. Traditionally a hunter-gatherer society, the San have an intimate knowledge of the land. From them, we learned how to track and catch (and play with) yellow scorpions, who live in up to meter-deep burrows in the dirt.  While these scorpions have a nasty sting, their venom isn't quite as dangerous as the black-tailed cousins that live further in the south (but I still wouldn't want to be stung!) We followed our San guide to find one.

To find a scorpion, you look for a small, moon-shaped hole in the dirt and start digging. Every so often, our guide would stop and test out the depth of the hole, either by carefully (and quickly!) sticking his finger in or measuring the depth with a straw of grass. When he got close, lured the scorpion out with the grass, then carefully maneuvered it so the stinger could be grabbed. 

He then cleaned the scorpion in his mouth so that we could more clearly see its 6 eyes!

Before reaching the pan, we stopped to see meerkats. Meerkats are small mongooses that spend most of their time foraging for insects in the open grasslands. They are often found in large groups, so several have the job of ‘sentry’ where they stand watch looking for danger. 

Strangely, there is a human “keeper” who has habituated a small family of meerkats – every morning he comes out at 5:30 am and spends the day standing in the desolate field, following the meerkats as they forage in the grass. The family once had 5 pups; sadly they recently lost several – one from a scorpion bite, and two others from a honey badger attack. 

We only saw two meerkats, so while they occasionally would pose in the stereotypical upright stance, most of the time they were digging around in the dirt while emitting a continuous stream of (frankly adorable) squeaks. We were able to get fairly close, but they generally ignored us.

After hanging out with the meerkats, we continued to our campsite on the salt pan. We were dropped off about a kilometer from camp and walked in - it gave a great perspective on how desolate, extensive, and quiet it was. A honeycomb pattern of dried salt crunched underfoot, and of course we had to taste it (spoiler alert - it tasted like dirt).

The campsite was a spread-out triangular area far enough into the pan that we could just barely make out the ridge of the grassland where we came from. 

Our camp for the night

A rather genteel table set with a tablecloth and flowers sat near a campfire, separated from the trucks and kitchen area used by our hosts. In the distance we could just make out the shape of four dark mounds – our beds for the “sleeping under the stars” experience.

A bathroom with a view

Equally far on the last point of the camp’s triangle was a small structure that turned out to be the camp toilet, open on the far side to give the user a lovely view of the pan. In front of each area was a small lantern; as soon as the sun went down, we discovered was absolutely necessary, since in the darkness it was easy to get lost (and you could just end up wandering aimlessly into the pan).

We spread our sleeping bags apart to give us room (and to try to minimize hearing anyone’s snoring…haha). Other than the soft and steady whisper of wind, it was complete silence on the pan. In the very far distance, infrequent bursts of lightning would flash a green light – but it was so far away that no thunder reached us. 

A light in the night

With the moon just a small sliver and no clouds in sight, the stars absolutely lit up the sky. Lying in bed and staring up at the vast expanse of the Milky Way was truly awe-inspiring. I couldn’t help but feel tiny and insignificant – maybe that’s why our ancestors, who all sat around skies like this every night, were humble enough to respect their place in the world and didn’t try to exploit the Earth.