Call of the Wild

By Liz Fleming

Baboons, hippos and surprising encounters make a glamping vacation in Botswana’s Okavango Delta truly unforgettable.

My safari tent was the height of glamping luxury as elegant as any five-star hotel room, complete with marble bathroom, mahogany furnishings and a bed swathed in Egyptian cotton sheets and fluffy down pillows. After enjoying a fabulous chef-prepared dinner of antelope in the open-air dining room, I’d been safely escorted to my tent by my guide Jakob. Before he left he reminded me: “Madame, don’t forget the baboon lock. You don’t want them in your tent.”

ROOM AT BELMOND EAGLE ISLAND LODGE

© MARK WILLIAMS

I knew the next morning’s 5 am wake-up call for animal viewing would be a jolt, so I snapped off the light, sank into the pillow and then realized I’d forgotten about the baboon lock. Only the trashed-tent photos passed around the dinner table propelled me out of that cozy bed to set the lock. It was a wise move. Not five minutes later, busy baboon fingers began jiggling at the door. Note to self: believe your guide.

As I lay in the stillness of that Okavango Delta night in the heart of Botswana, living my safari dream, every sound and shadow were magnified. My senses were on high alert – not with fear but with a thirst to drink in every detail of this wildest of places.

HELICOPTER TOUR OVER THE OKAVANGO DELTA

© MIKE ELOFF & CARLIIN MEYER

Just as I’d drifted off to sleep, a soft rustling woke me – the sound of fur gently brushing against canvas. An enormous cat, silhouetted by the lights on the path outside, was rubbing his face against the wall of my tent. Staying perfectly still, I watched, hoping the itchy lion or leopard or cheetah wouldn’t realize the tent was nothing more than a large canvas lunch bag. Sleep was a bit slower to come after that.

MOTHER AND BABY BABOON

At 5 am, Jakob knocked on my door and left a thermos of tea. I showered, dressed, sipped the tea and stepped out onto the patio, ready to head to breakfast. The baboons had other plans. There, on the path leading to the dining area, sat a mother baboon and her three babies. Each time I tried to sidle past, Mama B rose to her feet and shrieked, curling her lips back to reveal enormous fangs. She was clearly in charge.

I returned to my tent then re-emerged, armed with apples from the fruit basket I’d been given the day before. After showing the apples to Mama B, I wound up and pitched them one by one as far from my tent as I could. My baboon captors scratched, snarled a bit more, then ambled off after the fruit, leaving me the space to scurry down the path.

BREAKFAST WITH ELEPHANTS

© MARK WILLIAMS

The dining room was buzzing. A pride of lions had killed a cape buffalo the night before and guests were clambering into Jeeps to go watch the feast. My faithful guide Jakob, who’d ensured I was safe in my tent the night before, reminded me of the baboon lock and brought me tea, looked at me with expectant eyes. I could sense him wishing that I not drive off with the others. A new graduate of the camp’s training program, he hoped today was to be his first solo expedition – with me as his first guest. Heading off in the Jeep would have meant squashing his hopes and his plans to take me wildlife spotting along the river.

OPEN-AIR RESTAURANT

© MARK WILLIAMS

I waved goodbye to everyone and headed to the shore of the river, where the mokoro, a type of flat-bottomed canoe carved from a tree trunk, were beached. When the spring rains flood the Chobe River and turn the plains green, the Okavango Delta becomes one of the best places in Africa for wildlife viewing.

GAME DRIVE EXPLORATION

© MARK WILLIAMS

While Jakob paddled, I pulled out my camera. Despite the early hour, the sun was hot so I dipped my hand in the cool water, splashed my face and let my fingers dangle in the river for a moment or two. He offered another warning: “Madame, please keep your hands in the mokoro.” He pointed to what I’d thought were a couple of still-furled lily pads. They were, in fact, crocodile eyes. It was the perfect moment to spell out the rest of his expedition rules. “First, do exactly as I tell you – when I tell you. Second, tell me if you see anything, anything at all. Third, never run. The minute you run, you become lunch.” I listened intently since he’d been so right about that baboon lock.

MOKORO CANOE SAFARI

As we slipped through the water, I took photo after photo of lazy hippos basking in the shallows to keep their skin from burning and the long-legged water birds that walked fearlessly past them. After an hour or so, Jakob beached the mokoro on a spit of land and we set off into a lush tangle of greenery that opened into a meadow.

Suddenly, Jakob whispered: “Don’t move.”

CROCODILES HIDING IN THE RIVER

My adrenaline surged as I wondered what he’d heard. And then I heard it, too – a sudden thundering of hoofs. In moments, we were surrounded by a herd of zebras. As we stood still, the herd relaxed, lowering their heads to graze, moving nearer to us until their noses could almost have touched our feet. So close we could hear their breathing, the zebras nibbled until suddenly, in one unanimous swirl of black and white, they thundered off again in search of new pastures.

Travel is serendipitous and unpredictable – and therein lies its magic. Had Jakob and I joined the others who went to watch the lions feasting, we would have missed that rare moment when the usual barriers between species lowered and we became part of the wild, too, in the heart of the Botswana.

HIPPOS TAKING A LEISURELY BATH