Camping in the Okavango Delta

We left the lodge early, about 7am, and drove into the bush that stretched behind the lodge that we had walked through yesterday. Our goal was a village on the edge of the delta where we were going meet our polers and transfer to a mokoro, the traditional flat bottomed canoe used to navigate the many delta channels, to reach our campsite on Chiefs Island.  Originally we were supposed to spend two nights camping but because of my one day flight delay, we were limited to only one night. The road to the village, if the rough track we travelled could be called a road, consisted basically of two tire tracks, ruts really, that had been carved out of the sandy soil.  This was no place for a low slung car. In addition, the depth of the ruts were randomly uneven, riddled with small dips or deep holes,  creating quite a rocking motion in the vehicle as we drove along at a top speed of 20km/hour.  Not a good situation for those who might get car sick!

We drove through pasture land for about two hours passing by cows, goats, and donkeys.  There was evidence, however, that elephants roamed the area based on the number of destroyed trees and the ever-present piles of elephant dung scattered throughout the landscape.  Because it was the dry season the foliage was quite brown with only small hints of green here and there, noticeably in the areas where the animals congregated.  The track we were following made several twists and turns and occasionally intersected with other similar tracks but with very little signage to differentiate one path from another.  Anyone unfamiliar with the local geography would easily get lost.  From time to time we would pass individual small huts or a small village, but in general there was not much in the way of population.   At the two hours mark we came upon a fence cutting the road and surrounding area in two.  Going through the gate, Shabba mentioned that the fence was built to separate the wildlife from the domestic animals in an effort to contain hoof and mouth disease.  Although the fence was sufficient to keep the cattle, goats and donkeys from straying, the construction was not proof against elephants, who tend to run right over it. Luckily it was designed to be easily re-installed if trampled.

Once past the fence we drove for another 90 minutes or so, passing a large herd of zebras on the way, until we arrived at the village where our mokoro polers lived.  The Botswana government has divided the country into different regions for the purpose of sharing tourism revenue.  Thus when guests engage with the various villages in a given region part of the revenue goes to the regional community fund with the rest going directly to the individuals that serve the tourists.  With such a scheme everyone benefits and values tourism as an income stream.  The goal of the system was to invest the whole community into protecting the natural resources, including the animals.  Of course because of COVID, and the subsequent lack of tourists everyone was equally suffering.  The village had a rotation system for assigning polers so that everyone got a fair turn.  Consequently when we arrived, the record book was brought out and checked.  The next two gentlemen in line, Allen and Rogers, went to get their equipment. Once they gathered everything, we loaded the gear in the truck and after another half hour drive beyond the village we were on the banks of the delta, loading up the mokoros.

We took two mokoros, one for the camping gear and one for Shabba, myself, and our packs.  I sat in the front and thus had a wonderful view of the channels as we lazily threaded our way through them.  The channels were narrow and the banks lined with tall grass, brown and brittle because it was the dry season.  As Allen, who was poling our mokoro, threaded his way around tight turns, as I brushed the grass out of the way, sometimes it simply broke off.  The whole experience was very relaxing, as a passenger, although hard work for Allen as the navigation looked tricky. Side channels and alternate paths randomly opened up as we floated along.  Clearly you had to live there to understand how to get from point A to point B in the spaghetti snarl of waterways.  Along the way to the island we had to stop and move to the side of the channel because a hippo suddenly stuck his head out of the water about 15 feet in front of us.  He kind of gave us the stink eye, but after some consideration turned and went in the opposite direction.  Allen mentioned that sometimes the hippos attack the boats and their strong jaws are capable of crushing the fiberglass hull and sinking the boat.  Since the channel is typically no deeper than a meter or two, sinking is survivable, but then you are in the water with the hippo!

After a little over an hour of travel we arrived at the campsite on the island.   We unloaded our gear and set up camp, made some lunch, and rested for the rest of the afternoon, during the hottest part of the day.  At 4pm Allen took me on a mokoro excursion around the north end of the island.  Sitting in the camp during the afternoon and as Allen was poling me around in the mokoro I was struck repeatedly by how quiet and still the land was. It was magical as Allen and I glided through channel after channel.  I could hear no man-made machine noises, nor any of the signs of civilization. Instead, I occasionally heard a bird call or more frequently the crash of an elephant stomping through the brush. As dusk approached the hippos’ loud grunts and bellows would echo through the evening.  We found a lagoon with a pod of six and sat and watched them bob up and down in the water, waiting for night to fall when they come ashore to feed.

The sun hung in the cloudless sky, a bright orange ball glowing so intensely it washed out the normal vivid blue tones that make a clear sky.  The sun shines harshly in the Okavango Delta but creates  a beautiful sunset bleaching the horizon into purples and rose streaks as it sets.  We found a good vantage point to watch the drama unfold.  Absent the sun, the temperature changed drastically, as if a switch flipped from heating to air conditioning mode.  The intense, stifling heat of the day turned cool enough that I immediately brought out my fleece and later, my down jacket, which I had brought along with me in my backpack.  By the time we got back to camp it was almost dark and dinner was waiting.  It was pleasant to sit around the fire and relax; the fire provided a perfect level of heat to fight the chilly breeze.  As it got darker, the southern night sky exploded into view affording me one of the best views of the milky way I have seen on Earth.  Before heading to my tent for the night, Allen warned me that during the night if I heard noises in the camp, to not open my tent and investigate. Indeed at 11:00pm I woke to the sounds of an elephant crossing the water nearby.

Other than awakening for the elephants, I slept well; so well in fact I missed a group of lions that went by our camp site.  We had an early breakfast then went on a four-hour hike around the island to spot whatever wildlife we could.  It was a nice walk, although as the sun continued to climb into the sky, the heat rose exponentially so I was drained by the time we returned to camp.  After lunch we took down the campsite and headed back to the village in the mokoro.

After dropping off Allen and Rodgers in their village and thanking them for a wonderful experience, Shabba and I started the long trek back to the lodge where we were to meet the Swiss couple who were joining for the rest of the tour.  As we reversed our path on the byzantine sandy track, I was shocked to see how many cars were on the “road”.  We passed at least six cars heading into the bush and two passed us going in the same direction; definitely a busy day on the bush highway.  All the vehicles were packed to the gills with people. Since the ride into town from the village is close to four hours, I suspect that the villagers took advantage of any opportunity they could.  At the dinner that evening I met Alfred and Claudia, who had already been traveling on their own for a month.  The four of us, including Shabba, were the total group for the rest of the safari—easily illustrating the damage COVID continues to do to the tourism industry.