Why go to Botswana? Traveling to Botswana for a safari with my family remains one of my top experiences of all time. Having the opportunity to see the wildlife of remote Botswana and travel through the vast inlets of the Okavango Delta was life-altering. My hope is that Botswana stays as untouched and wild as the week we spent there a few years ago. Read on to discover the magic of Africa, Botswana, and the animals of the Okavango Delta.
There is no sound I can think of that compares to that of the African bush. Silence. Almost complete silence, except for the distant (and sometimes not so distant) roar of a lion, the slow, steady, padded thump of an elephant, and the crunch of teeth on bone. The chorus of the wildlife.
What helps make Botswana especially magical is how remote and small you feel; hours and hours, sometimes an entire day without seeing another soul apart from your guide. I can’t remember ever feeling so happily unplugged and yet so blissfully connected.
Into the Delta in Botswana
We arrive by bush plane from Maun, having spent three nights in neighboring South Africa. A jeep picks us up on the tarmac, which is nothing more than a strip of land in the open plains. Iconic baobab trees, otherwise known as ‘trees of life’ pop up in the distance.
My son asks how long it takes to get to Selinda Camp, our home in the delta for the next few days. He is eager to start the safari. Little does he know that it has already begun. Two minutes into our drive we spot a giraffe craning its long neck above the tree line. Hello, Botswana!
From the jeep, we hop into a small boat to take us to camp. We pass a pod of hippos who are visibly unhappy with us for invading their peaceful waters. Our guide, Foster, knows this pod well. He knows their habits and gives them a wide berth. It’s no less unnerving to see their dark eyes slowly dip below the surface, not knowing where they might pop up next. My daughter, Ella, is not amused.
As we motor towards the Selinda Camp dock, we notice a faint sound. It’s singing. As we get closer, the people attached to the lovely voices are the entire staff of Selinda Camp announcing our arrival, in song. An unforgettable sound. An unforgettable welcome.
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Botswana: Life in the wild
Throughout our three-day and six-game drives in Botswana, we are treated to one magical experience after another. We track a cheetah at sunrise and watch a pride of lions devour a cape buffalo.
The next day, we catch a solitary elephant off guard as we barrel past it in our jeep en route to a possible leopard sighting. Quite disturbed, and rightly so, he bucks and trumpets in annoyance.
Later that evening, we nearly crossed paths with a hungry hyena on our way back to our tent. As is required at night, we are with a guide. However, I’m slightly uneasy after having just been told that Botswana guides carry no weapons. They depend solely upon their skills to read the animal’s movements to keep guests safe. I tell myself to trust the system, and more importantly, to trust the guides.
Botswana’s Foster, the all-knowing guide
Our soft-spoken, omniscient, gentle guide is named Foster. Without a doubt, Foster is one of the highlights of our Botswana journey. Foster knows the Delta like the back of his hand. He knows where we can safely cross the Okavango based on factors like rainfall, vehicle type, and time of day.
Foster knows just where to go ‘off-road’, and dive head-on into a wild patch of sage or scrub, to find a leopard lounging on a tree limb. He often yells out ‘Hold on tight!’, and we do. It’s exhilarating.
The wake-ups in Botswana are early. Our tween daughter is not amused again, complaining about waking up while it’s still dark. Sensing her pre-dawn dismay, Foster, in his soothing and low baritone voice, poses a question. ’Ella, what is the purpose of this day?” An interesting conversation between them follows. The sun rises and reveals the animals at their most active times of the day. The early wake-up is quickly forgotten.
Southern Pride of Botswana
One afternoon, we come upon a pride of lions, the Southern Pride, as they are locally known. Foster kills the engine, and we spend a few hours observing them. The big cats laze about, yawn, and tend to their young.
The cubs frolic in their happy and completely carefree existence. A few times, the lions find shade in the shadow of our open Land Rover — an unnerving and utterly silent experience. As mentioned earlier, Foster was without a weapon. I repeat my mantra—trust the guides, as I pull my son towards me a little tighter. 
We are all holding our breath. In a low whisper, I lean in and ask Foster how he’s so sure the lions won’t attack. They are within two feet of us and curious. There are no windows or barriers between us.
Speaking softly, and without taking his eyes from the lion’s face, he says he can read their movements. That he can sense agitation or contentment by the twitch of an eye. His concentration is absolute. I believe him. Do I have a choice? We later discover that Foster has not only been an experienced guide for many decades but was given the high honor of taking the president of his country on safari.
Do I trust him? Implicitly.
Camp Life, Botswana
Our tent at Selinda is rustic-chic and luxurious. It dons safari-style campaign furniture which was originally designed to be folded up and transported distances. It looked like a window display for the Louis Vuitton showroom in NYC.
No detail is too small to be overlooked. Yoga mats sit in a basket beside the door. Powerful binoculars sit by the bed. A beautifully crafted vintage liquor cabinet is stocked with port, bourbon, and whisky. Etched crystal glasses and a bucket of ice on the ready. There are reading glasses and books for us, watercolors, and sketch pads for the kids. A claw-footed tub and rain shower. All we could want or need.
We are told that Sydney, the ‘resident’ elephant, enjoys relaxing near our tent. One of my most memorable moments of the trip is hearing her gentle feet padding past our tent in the middle of the night. Her massive body scrapes the soft walls. I want to get out of bed and peek outside but I’m paralyzed—both terrified and thrilled simultaneously.
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Botswana’s delta
The Okavango Delta spans 15,000 square miles, and by August, the water fans out slowly, and sometimes randomly, throughout the southern regions of the delta. Not surprisingly, this often makes crossing it a challenge.
There are few bridges, as the water ebbs and flows differently throughout the year. Thankfully, Foster sees the waterways as we would see highways, and navigates with ease.
Late one afternoon, we stop at the Delta’s edge for a sundowner on our way back to Selinda Camp. The crossing we made in the morning is hours away and in the opposite direction of the camp. “How will we get back?”, our daughter asks. He looked straight ahead and points to the Delta.
Before we can say another word, he pulls up to the inlet and tells us to raise our feet as high as we can. I wonder if we will have to hold our breath. How does he know there aren’t any hungry hippos lurking below the surface?
Foster confidently shifts into gear. Moments later, our Land Rover is halfway submerged in the Delta, nearly level with the exhaust pipe that pokes from the front hood like a submarine periscope.
I pray to the hippo gods that today isn’t our last. Out of the hundreds of small waterways like this, how is he to know how deep this one is? Those few minutes of crossing the Delta may have taken years off my life but it did save us three hours of driving. Trust the guides.
Foster’s Surprise
With a heavy heart, we find ourselves on our final night in Botswana. Yet, after a full afternoon’s game drive we are ready to shower off the dust and change for dinner. As we tumble from the jeep, Foster surprises us by saying he has one last thing to show us.
Lions, cheetahs, leopards, rare birds, hippos, warthogs, and more—what is left to see, I wonder? Trusting Foster one last time, we pile our weary bodies back into the jeep just as the sun is starting its fiery descent.
Twenty minutes of bouncing away from camp, away from a hot shower and food I think sadly. Then my gaze falls upon a distant field of blinking lanterns, which then lead up to a blazing bonfire. An open bar and an enormous communal dining table come into view.
Hemingway’s Africa
The entire Selinda Camp staff is there to prepare and enjoy our final dinner with us by candlelight. Wine is free-flowing and the stories from the day’s drive get bigger and more fantastical. Food is in abundance. Music and laughter fill the sky. The guides, staff, and tourists share one last meal together as a group.
The sun finally disappears behind a row of perfectly placed palm trees, and at that moment I decide I don’t want to go home.
Hemingway wrote, in his book The Green Hills of Africa, “All I wanted to do was get back to Africa. We had not left it yet, but when I would wake in the night I would lie, listening, homesick for it already.”
My emotions are captured to perfection. I am already missing the sounds of Africa, the hippos and lions in the distance, the cackle of a hyena, and the scurrying of small animals outside the tent. Going to sleep each night is the final act of an utterly fabulous show. In my tent, I imagine I was not the only one at camp who fought sleep, never wanting it to end.
This is a fantastic post – we’ve featured it on our overall Africa Travel Guides section!
Thank you! That is very kind. I also wrote a post about our trip to Cape Town and it’s surroundings. You can find it on my site under the ‘Destinations’ South Africa menu heading. Thank you again!
Wow what an amazing trip. I would love to go on a trip like this someday!
Thanks for the comment Ashley! Hope you get there, it is truly beautiful! -Jamie