Trip Report - Botswana
Our Trip & Itinerary
Our overlanding fiasco continued as we entered our third country, Botswana. We spent six days driving 1,100 kilometers from Charles Hill in the west to Kasane in the northeast on the border with Zambia. While most of our time in Botswana was dedicated to long drives from place to place, our highlights here were an overnight camp inside the Okavango Delta and our time inside Chobe National Park on the borders with Namibia and Zambia.
We DO NOT recommend traveling through Southern Africa on a tour like we did, as it’s completely possible to see most of these places and more on a self-drive trip. However, if you do your own research and decide an overlanding tour like this is the right fit for you, we implore you DO NOT book with Acacia Africa. Consider Nomads or Intrepid instead who we have heard good things about.
On The Road | Namibian Border to Okavango Delta
Immediately upon entering Botswana we noticed several differences to our previous two weeks in Namibia. The largest difference was the fact that any road we drove on was now peppered with livestock; sheep, goats, and cattle, who were seemingly unaware of the huge vehicles constantly moving past them at great speed. Apart from local livestock, and some rare actual wildlife sightings, the drive from the border to Maun was long, slow, and unfortunately not that interesting. After eight hours of driving across the flat landscape we arrived in Maun, the third largest city in Botswana, but quite small by almost any other countries standards. Several of our fellow travelers had decided to take a scenic flight over the Okavango Delta before our stay inside the following day, but we opted to sip an Amarula coffee given our great flights in the Serengeti. We passed the time at a quiet cafe across the dusty street from the airport, watching the passing people and cattle go about their business, including one cow who wandered into the airport looking for the next flight out of town. Once our fellow passengers returned, we turned our truck around and made our way back to our overnight rest just outside of town.
Okavango Delta
Our camp at Sitatunga was simple, but offered comforts unheard of at our other stops. There was a small, yet refreshing pool, spacious bathrooms with soap (!), and a cozy campsite branch of The Duck Cafe from Maun. That first night, we dropped off our laundry for a much-needed wash, braved the chilly pool, had a delightful shower, and enjoyed a few drinks under the fairylights. Fed up with the rise and repeat of carbs and frozen veggies, Sarah treated herself to a fresh salad of beetroots, cucumber, squash, and feta – things our guide didn’t seem to have in his cookbook.
Feeling more prepared than usual, we woke up to the first sounds of morning birds and for once, did not have to pack up our tent, as we would be returning to Sitatunga in two days. We dashed to the cafe as soon as we saw movement and waited for the kind barista to prepare our real coffees, not the terrible instant stuff we’d been having. As we took our first glorious sips of cappuccino with a cheeky shot of Amarula, our transport to the Okavango Delta pulled up. The vehicle was essentially a robust 9-seater box on wheels with open sides - a wannabe safari truck. We loaded up and began our drive to the mokoro station, dust flying up from the road and into our faces. The journey took just under two hours, as we had to fight our way through sandy roads, rural villages, and between thorny trees. Typically, it doesn’t take this long to reach the beginnings of the Delta, but the dry season and general lack of rainfall has left the area dusty, crunchy, and barren of water. Our group members who took the flight reported that it took ten minutes to fly over shades of beige until the winding canals of the Okavango began and painted the landscape green. We arrived at our station, went for one last “bushy bushy”, and met our local guides. Joyce, Miriam, Tfas, Delaid, and Esau were all born in the region and know the waters like the back of their hands. In twos, we were paired with a guide and loaded onto the elongated, shallow canoes called “mokoros”. The mokoros are typically made from the wood of the sausage tree, but in efforts to conserve the species, the government introduced fiberglass boats instead. Much like the gondolas in Venice, we spread out on the boat with Tfas standing with a long wooden stick in the back to guide us on the water. We had to get a hold of our inner balance at first, then glided effortlessly among the reeds and water lilies. Before entering the narrow canals, we passed the hippos at a distance, all crowded at the deepest part of the river to avoid drying out. From there, we meandered through the veins of the Okavango, carved by hippo bloats in search of greenery. The mokoro was so low to the water that we were eye-level with Goliath storks, slaty egrets, and red lechwe. After the constant rattle of the overlanding truck, the Delta soundtrack was bliss – the gentle splash of the pole, the reeds meeting each other in the wind, the distant munch of zebras eating in the marshes. Feeling recentered, we arrived at camp, which was built on a small island, shaped over many years by overlapping termite mounds and the trees that sprouted from them. Our tents were luxurious compared to the usual one, fully equipped with two thinly mattressed army cots, sheets, a non-flush toilet, and a bucket shower. The bucket shower was promptly rejected by our Australian companion, who claimed that “boiling the water didn’t get rid of the hippo poop”. Her loss! The temperature was hitting its high then, so we all dispersed to figure out how to move the least or cool off otherwise. Sarah opted to read her book under the shade of the main tent, while I joined a smaller group to go for a swim. When we reached our chosen swimming hole, moments before the first of us was going to get their feet wet, our guide spotted a crocodile lurking on the shore, mere feet from us. Making a loud noise, our guide scared this croc, and another a few meters further away, back into the water but their presence meant taking a dip here was no longer an option. Our guide offered to take us to another swimming hole he thought would be safe, and wildly two of my companions accepted! This second swimming hole did not appeal to me though, seeing how close we had come to a dangerous encounter here. Instead I walked myself back to camp and joined Sarah under the main tent with my book in hand, which seemed like the smarter afternoon activity.
In the evening, once we were beyond the sweltering heat of the afternoon, we changed into longer clothes for our first walking safari. I’m not going to lie, the idea of suddenly being reduced to the speed of my legs to run from dangerous wildlife wasn’t exactly motivating. Still, we departed the safety of the camp in a single-file line, surrounded solely by the crunch of the grass below our feet. Thankfully, we didn’t encounter any predators that night, but walked amongst the antelope, giraffes, and elephants. Like much of our safaris, the elephant left quite the impression. Right before heading back to camp as the sun disappeared below the horizon, we stood just ten meters from an elephant bull, crunching away on the foliage. We didn’t speak and didn’t move, listening to his massive molars grinding the leaves, his heavy breath, and the crackle of the leaves below his feet. Using the mokoros to cross the channel, we headed back to camp to the sound of hippos grunting nearby. To add yet another highlight to the evening, the camp staff gathered after dinner to put on a little show. While their giggling and chatting in between songs felt a bit like a rehearsal, they sang with incredible strength and in perfect harmony. Showing off their incredible footwork, the crew kicked up dust in the light of the fire, adding a glow to the surrounding air. Despite feeling like we had two left feet, we joined in on the fireside dance party to the rhythm of ‘2 By 2’.
In the morning, we greeted the sunrise as the same colors stained the sky. As the Delta awoke, we learned about elephant “chewing gum”, or the bundles of grass they don’t swallow and eventually spit out instead. Even though we had woken up earlier to start our walk, it seemed like the delta had been buzzing for hours. Herds of red lechwes, zebras, a few warthogs, and some giraffes were already busy foraging for breakfast. Our guides expertly directed us between different groups, educating us about each type of animal's behavior in the delta as we moved near them. We also dodged a number of lone cape buffalo, hidden in the plains and behind bushes. While these guys don’t mind you walking in their view, getting too close can lead to being mercilessly trampled. Definitely something we wanted to avoid!That afternoon, we sadly departed our island in the delta. We waved goodbye to our friends at the camp and set off in our mokoros once more. As we meandered back out of the Delta, the universe sent all the wildlife our way! Hippos popped up out of nowhere, taking our gondoliers by surprise. Elephants walked the riverside alongside a congress of baboons. A mama giraffe and her calf crossed the canal in a great splash, as if in slow motion. Our last morning in the Okavango spoiled us with beautiful sights, reminding us of John Hemmingway’s words, “If I have ever seen magic, it has been in Africa.”
On The Road | Okavango Delta to Zambia Border
Leaving Maun, we prepared ourselves for a morning of bumpy driving thanks to the Botswana’s determination to avoid fixing any potholes, and instead focus on erecting dozens of signs announcing their obvious presence. Similarly to our drive into Maun, this leg of around 350 kilometers was mainly long, slow, and unfortunately not that interesting. This time though we had the fun addition of blazing heat, around 40º C (104º F), which seeped heavily through the greenhouse-like windows of our un-air conditioned cabin. While we were cooked on our way there, we knew our next camp, Elephant Sands, would make up for the painful journey. Initially, we arrived to heaps of sand and what felt like a tourist-trap. Our campsite was uninspiring, dusty, and hot – not exactly the ideal spot for our two-man tent. Ditching the idea of setting up in the sandy wind, we opted to head to the bar instead and noticed that each building was outlined with a collection of concrete spikes. As it turned out, these spikes were for the elephants, deterring them from having a cheeky cocktail by the pool or paying us a visit in the showers. As we entered the bar, we were greeted by the group of cyclists we had been running into at different campsites. Beyond our view of too-tight biker shorts and speedy Oakleys, we saw what made this camp so special. There, a mere few meters from our reach were about ten elephants, each reaching into the small opening of the man-made watering hole. We were close enough to see the deep canyons of their thick skin, count the lashes on their gentle eyes, feel the woosh of their breath, and listen to the water climb up their trunk. For hours, we forgot where we were and watched different elephant parades come and go. It was fascinating to watch the social hierarchies play out, mostly between a massive bull with impressive tusks and a young mother and her two calves. They repeatedly attempted to push each other away from the water, legs pushing ahead of each other paired with the occasional trumpet. Eventually, the mother managed to shift to a different spot and the smallest calf was finally able to reach the watering hole, though still stretching on his short legs and extending his wiggly trunk. After dinner, we began to get ready for bed and the elephants began to arrive from all directions, including through our camp! Making sure to give them a safe distance, we made our bathroom trips and zipped into our tent, listening closely for silent, padded footsteps in the dark. We awoke to footprints right beside our tent, much resembling a dilapidated moon. We had made sure to set our alarm a little earlier to spend more time at the watering hole. So, we mixed our instant coffee potion, plopped onto a bean bag, and watched our mammoth friends. The watering hole was quiet at first, the sun rising directly above the elephants. As the sun warmed the sand around us, more giants began to arrive, giddily trotting towards the water. Again, we welcomed the tranquil stillness of their puffs and pants, even the sudden trunk toots.
Departing Elephant Sands later that morning, we passed many of the trans-Africa bicyclers we had met the night before on our, relatively, short six hour drive up to Kasane, right on the border with Zambia. After settling into camp and avoiding the ghastly lunch (fly covered rice and leftover salad that had been sitting in the sun for two days), we enjoyed a few minutes of solitary relaxation before departing for today’s highlight: an evening cruise in Chobe National Park. Our vessel was a large pontoon boat, arranged to host us in comfortable camping chairs on deck. Setting sail in the late afternoon, we slowly cruised into Chobe National Park spotting small crocodiles and a few antelopes on our way. Once past the mysterious, invisible line marking the park’s boundary, we started spotting animals left, right, and center! Alongside the heaps of impala, we were now seeing baboons socializing near some sneaky crocodiles and hippos eyeing us curiously from the surface. With the current drought severely limiting the water sources in the park, thousands of animals have made the long journey to quench their thirst here. In a twisted way, this meant we were fortunate to see them all congregate there. Hundreds of cape buffalo began to appear on the northern shore of the Chobe River, either drinking there or stomping their way through the marshy islands in the channels. While these are powerful and dangerous animals, they weren’t this evening's stars of the show. As the sky above us began to soften in the sun’s orange glow, several herds of elephants made their way down to the water, hustling to quench their thirst after a long day foraging in the dry landscape. Our boat’s pilot, Kabo, expertly maneuvered our craft against the shoreline, delivering us along their path. At first they seemed unsure of our presence, but after only a few moments they continued on their path to the river, walking within arm’s reach of our boat. Crouched behind the small bulkhead at the front of our boat, we marveled at their size, as we listened to their stomachs rumble when they passed in front of us. They arranged themselves to keep the youngest ones safe in the middle, creating an elephant “wave” from tallest, to shortest, and back to tallest. To be this close, with so many elephants as they filled their bellies with water, was unreal and unlike anything we’ve experienced before. On the other side, other elephants searched the marshes for dinner, a plume of white herons gathering around them as they kicked up the sludge. Thinking it couldn’t get any better, Kabo steered us to the perfect photo spot. A handful of elephants stood, kicking up the dust in the blush of the evening, the saffron sun perched just above their heads. We watched them spray themselves, sending fans of water droplets into the air as the sky lit up in a kaleidoscope of colors.
Still feeling a lingering rush of excitement from our amazing river cruise the night before, we overlooked the ungodly wake-up time for our 4x4 game drive in Chobe National Park. Once again, we were ditching our hulking, pollution spewing, noise cacophony of a bus behind for a comfortable, smaller vehicle to explore this park and search for its elusive big cats. Our game drive began before the gates of the park, when our guide spotted a honey badger digging for insects or small reptiles on the side of the road. He declared this spotting to be good luck for the morning, and steered us through the main gates of the park. Our drive started slowly – we weren’t sure if this good luck was really going to show up! We did spot an owl curiously turning its head to watch us, as we were it. Yet, this wasn’t really what we were itching to see. Following the dirt track down to the water’s edge we found huge herds of impala, some of whom were running haphazardly through the short shrubbery. Our guide slowed the vehicle and started searching for any sign of what these impala fear most: lions. We crept along slowly, occasionally startled by a sprinting impala coming past our vehicle seemingly out of nowhere, but weren’t able to spot their elusive predators. A little further down the track, our luck suddenly changed! We spotted a pair of male lions, likely belonging to the lionesses that sent impala scattering earlier. Instead of helping in this endeavor, these two males were napping in the sun – bellies up, legs spread, apparently with no cares in the world. While we were watching them, one of their paws twitched in their sleep, much like a house cat’s would. Leaving these lions behind, we drove on until we spotted a hoard of 4x4s parked underneath a huge marula tree. Jostling for position we were eventually able to spot a leopard in the tree, snacking on her catch from the previous day, an impala that was now missing everything aside from her head. She buried her snout on final time, appearing moments later with a bloodied muzzle. She slyly licked her lips, as if savoring every last bit of her kill. Full up with impala, she pounced to a higher branch and lazily, yet elegantly, stretched out the same way we do on the couch after Thanksgiving. Now buzzing with excitement from our recent sightings we stopped near a congress of baboons for coffee and cookies – instant coffee is really growing on us! High on both excitement and caffeine, we took the ‘scenic route’ back to the park gate, or as it should be called: ‘elephant drive’. Our 4x4 was surrounded by herds of elephants seemingly at every turn, once more embracing us in a curious stampede.
Returning to our camp we packed up the remainder of our belongings and avoided today’s unsanitary lunch offering of day-old, never cooled salad and sweaty bologna before hitting the road for the short drive to Zambia!
Recommendations
Where We Stayed:
On The Road
Okavango Delta