The Greatest Safari Adventure Ever Spans Four African Countries
The Greatest Safari Adventure Ever Spans Four African Countries
(Bloomberg) -- At the moment, all of our plans are on hold. But that doesn’t mean we here at Bloomberg Pursuits aren’t planning the experiences we’ll rush out to enjoy when it’s safe to do so. We’re sharing our ideas with you in the hopes that they’ll help inspire you—and we’d love to hear what you’re daydreaming about, too. Send us your ideas at daydreams@bloomberg.net, and we’ll flesh some of them out for this column.
Today, travel journalist and native South African Mary Holland dreams of linking together a string of incredible safari destinations in one fantastical journey across her home continent.
In late January, I returned to New York after spending five weeks in Africa. It sounds like a sabbatical; it wasn’t. South Africa is my birth country and where most of my family still resides, so spending large chunks of time on the continent (for work and vacation) isn’t uncommon for me.
Before I departed my parents’ house in Cape Town to catch a direct flight back to New York, I stashed my safari clothes on an empty shelf. I was due back in South Africa in April for my best friend’s wedding, and I was certain I’d tag on some kind of reporting trip to the bush. “If I fly into Joburg you can just mail the clothes up to me,” I told my mother. “There’s no point in lugging them across the Atlantic and then back again.”
My clothes are still on that shelf, and they’ll probably linger there for the rest of this year. My best friend has canceled her wedding, and the borders to South Africa are pretty much closed. She’s not the only person who has postponed her wedding, South Africa isn’t the only country that’s in lockdown, and I know I’m not the only person trying to adapt to this new way of life—there are certainly worse situations to be in right now. But as I sit in my apartment in Brooklyn and watch the cherry blossom tree bloom outside my window, a reminder that spring is here, I can’t help but daydream about the bush.
A Childhood Spent Trekking
Growing up, my dad piled us (me, my mom, and two sisters) into his creaky old Land Rover and hauled us, unwillingly, to national parks around the country. Like most teenagers, my sisters and I didn’t appreciate the family trips and moaned about the hours spent in a loud chugging old car with hard seats, no AC, and thick windows that whined when you rolled them down. At the time I didn’t realize how privileged I was to witness an elephant stride freely through the tall grass, something many South Africans, let alone foreigners, never get to see.
Only when I moved to New York did I became acutely aware of how much I craved it. I itched for those effervescent mornings when we’d roll out of bed as the sun was beginning to streak the sky and climb into the car sleepy-eyed—carrying condensed milk coffee in travel mugs and homemade bacon and egg rolls—in search of aardvarks and African pangolins. I wished for the gentle, lethargic evenings and the familiarly dusty, sometimes dewy, smell of the landscape. I missed the birds—the constant, almost mundane, coo of the turtle dove, the lonely call of the fish eagle—and the overwhelming sense of space. I even missed the old Land Rover. Although I can hear birds singing outside my window right now (which is lovely, but unnerving for New York), it’s not the same.
I’m awaiting the days when I can breathe in that earthy smell again, but more importantly, I’m anxious to support the tourism industry of my continent. Thousands of communities in Africa rely heavily on the income that tourism generates. The wildlife, one of the continent’s greatest assets, relies on tourists, too. Without funding for national parks or jobs made available through tourism, we could see a rise in poaching during these desperate times. While I fantasize about a pipe dream trip, I urge other travelers to consider booking ahead so tourism can thrive again. We need to know there will be healthy communities, elephants, and rhinos waiting for us when we get to the other side.
Renting a House in the Bush
Naturally, I’d begin this extravagant hypothetical journey in South Africa, where my safari clothes are ready and waiting. Along with my family, I would rent a magnificent house like Singita Castleton’s private-use lodge in the Sabi Sand Game Reserve, at the southwestern section of Kruger National Park, or Pel’s Post set along the winding Levubu River in Pafuri in Northern Kruger–sizable upgrades from the simple rondavels we stayed in as kids. With a landscape of kopjes (small hills), plains, and thick bush, Kruger delivers a quintessential South African safari experience. Both of the above properties are super for families, because they offer a private experience, ideal if you have catching up to do. They also include chefs, so there won’t be any family arguments about who makes dinner, or worse, who will do the washing up.
Next, we’d travel to Zimbabwe. I’m always advocating for Zimbabwe as a safari destination because it has diverse parks and reserves and desperately needs tourism. My dad always fancied taking us to Victoria Falls (embarrassingly, I’ve yet to go), so we’d check into Matetsi River House, tucked behind trees on the banks of the Zambezi. In a helicopter, we’d fly over the Falls, then guzzle sundowners back at the lodge overlooking the bloated, glassy river that’s so calm it looks like it couldn’t possibly belong to the same river that thunders and foams down the deep chasm a few miles away.
Next, we’d head to Mana Pools, a national park on the border of Zambia. I’ve been dreaming about Mana Pools since a safari guide I had earlier this year described its rugged landscape and loads of hippos, crocodiles, and elephants. We’d stay at the new Nyamutsi Camp, an eco-lodge with six spacious tents that tumbles out onto the Zambezi River. Here, we’d spend our days driving through the park in search of elephants or walking through the bush with a trained guide. We’d spend our afternoons watching hippos wallow and grunt in the river until the sun sunk behind the horizon, and then we’d sit around a campfire for hours, our eyes dazzled by the flames.
Tanzania and Kenya
Because this is a daydream and I can travel wherever I like (no budget required), I’d glide up to Tanzania. No one in my family has ever been to the Serengeti; with its tremendous savannah it’s one of the most romantic landscapes in Africa. We’d stay at the newly overhauled Namiri Plains, a remote tented camp that opened in 2019 in the Eastern Serengeti, an area that was closed for 20 years for cheetah research. It’s so isolated that you probably won’t see another safari vehicle for days, which is rare in the Serengeti, considering it has become a bucket list spot thanks to its fiery sunsets and annual great migration.
While in the Serengeti, we’d travel west to Dunia Camp, an unfussy lodge entirely run by women. The women here are doing a trailblazing job of shifting perceptions not only in the male-dominated safari industry, but also in their local communities. The camp isn’t as luxurious as others you might come across, with their private pools and fancy wine cellars, but it has heart-wrenching views of the thicketed Serengeti and distant kopjes and displays the powerful impact tourism can have on individuals and communities.
The last stop would be Ol Pejeta, a 90,000-acre private conservancy in Kenya’s Laikipia area. The conservancy has become known as the home of the last two remaining northern white rhinos, but it also has a flourishing black rhino population. Ol Pejeta operates on a mixed-use land model and is an example of how wildlife, local communities, and tourists can coexist and support one another. Relying on tourism to support wildlife, infrastructure, and a rigorous anti-poaching unit, Ol Pejeta is a reminder of the positive impact that tourism can have on conservation and communities. Although the area is hurting right now because of Covid-19, the conservancy offers a glimpse into what a successful wildlife tourism model looks like and could serve as a positive blueprint for the future. And frankly, we could all do with a glimmer of hope right now.
If you would like to help protect these wildlife areas and the animals that live there, here are several charities you can support:
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