Botswana’s Wild Kingdoms

If you’ve dreamed of going on an African safari to photograph tourists by water holes and Land Rovers rumbling across the savanna, Kenya is the place for you. But for a more remote alternative, slide your finger down the map a few countries south until you reach Botswana.

Last summer, my 13-year-old cousin Philip Rothrock, his father, Doug, and I decided we would rent a four-wheel-drive vehicle for a month and explore Botswana. Our plan was to camp in Chobe National Park and the Moremi Game Reserve in the Okavango Delta. It was our first trip to southern Africa, and although we had done plenty of camping before, none of us had slept in tents in places where the predators that could eat us roam free.

We flew to Johannesburg, South Africa, in June and picked up our SUV, a well-worn sky-blue Toyota Hilux, model year from around when Stanley stumbled into Livingstone.

The rental agent showed us how to assemble the tents, which were mounted to the roof. Then he showed us the toolbox, the two 20-liter fuel cans, the water tank and the high lift jack and spade we would need if we got stuck in a swamp. Then he showed us the high lift jack and spade again. I think this is what is called foreshadowing.

Jet-lagged after the 22-hour flight from LAX, I was not in ideal condition for adjusting to driving on the right side of the road with a steering wheel on the right side of the car. Every time I wanted to turn, I signaled my intention by turning on the windshield wiper. Many of those turns were the wrong ones anyway.

The next morning, we crossed into Botswana. About 17% of the country’s 225,000 square miles consists of game reserves, with lots of wilderness, lots of animals and few amenities.

Our first destination was the Moremi Game Reserve, 300 miles of swamp, flood plain, grassland and a forest of giant mopane trees. There’s more than the stars of the safari world--lions, leopards, elephants and water buffalo--in Moremi. The supporting cast is here too--zebras, wildebeests, wart hogs, impala--and some rare animals such as the antelope-like puku, red lechwe and sitatunga .

We were still more than 50 miles from the park’s entrance when Philip called out “Giraffe!” They surrounded us. So did herds of zebras, wildebeests and impala.

There are few campsites in Botswana’s national parks and reserves, so it’s best to make reservations months ahead, especially during the dry season, from May to July--the best time for a safari trip. Heavy wet-season rains had closed the dirt road to our campground, but the sign makers hadn’t notified visitors yet. We drove merrily on, taking photos of hippos and crocodiles in the swamp to our right and impala and hartebeest in the brush to our left. We splashed through progressively deeper pools of water until, somewhere along the way, the road attained full-fledged swamp status.

We were stuck. Doug and I got out the spade and started digging the mud away from the tires while Philip kept a lookout for crocodiles. When we freed the wheels and tried moving again, we noticed that only two wheels were spinning. The four-wheel-drive wasn’t working. We pulled out our high lift jack, only to discover that it too was defective.

Since the sun was starting to set and we couldn’t move an inch, this seemed as good a place as any to make camp. We started gathering wood for a fire when, from seemingly out of nowhere, a big truck filled with tourists drove up. The driver jumped out, assessed the situation and, with the aid of his jack and five of his passengers, freed our vehicle.

This was the first of many times we experienced the generosity of fellow campers. Call it kindness, or call it the ethos of the bush, people with a stuck or broken-down vehicle will never be left to fend for themselves. It was getting dark, and since driving at night is prohibited in the national parks, we took an alternate route to reach our campsite. After stopping to watch a python cross the road, we arrived at the Xakanaxa (pronounced sha-ka-nox-sha) campground.

The first thing we noticed was the bathroom, which was surrounded by an ornate cement structure. It seemed an unnecessary decorative touch until we realized it was designed to keep out thirsty elephants.

The campground contained eight sites. Most of the campers came from South Africa. Herbert and his family in the site next to ours asked if we would mind shooing the baboons away from their tent while they gathered firewood. Philip drew baboon-chasing duty, but the creatures started throwing seedpods at all of us.

After building our own fire, we set up the tents and had a late dinner. Canned peas and bad wine in a box never tasted so good. We got into our sleeping bags and, serenaded by grunting, sloshing hippos, fell asleep.

As we made breakfast the next morning, an elephant sauntered out of the bushes and walked through the campground. It was soon followed by a herd of 20 or more, walked with a stately, unhurried grace you wouldn’t expect from the world’s heaviest land mammal. Little did we know that in less than two weeks we would reach our elephant threshold, blinded by our greed for lions and other big cats. Elephants? They were just big and opaque, and they blocked our view of the water holes. But on this first morning in Moremi, we watched them in open-mouthed awe.

After spending a few days at three campgrounds in Moremi, we headed north to the Grand Canyon of Botswana’s game reserves, Chobe National Park. At 6,550 square miles, Botswana’s second-largest park contains four diverse habitats: lush flood plains, deep forests, tropical swamps and deep sands. And wildlife? Chobe has huge numbers of nearly every kind of African animal, including one of the largest populations of elephants on the continent.

Our first stop was the desert-like Savuti Channel. With each passing mile, the sands on the road became deeper and the driving more treacherous. Soon we were stuck.

This time, instead of thinking about crocodiles, we worried about lions. After a few hours with the spade and the jury-rigged jack, we got back in the truck, crossed our fingers and tried moving. It worked. We were becoming legitimate bushmen. We celebrated for the next 10 feet--until we got stuck again.

Our savior this time was Johan Pretorious, manager of the Savute Safari Lodge. He tried to tow us out, but we didn’t budge.

After a few hours he said, “Guys, my wife will think a lion got me unless I get back to the lodge. But I’ll be back. By the way, guys, if you collect wood for a fire, wear gloves so you don’t get bit by scorpions. I learned the hard way. It was worse than anything I’ve ever felt. But I’d taken a course in antivenin, so I gave myself a shot and felt better.”

We hadn’t taken a course in administering antivenin, but we gingerly collected wood anyway. Wood gathering and fire building became a nightly ritual. In the bush, fires aren’t just for cooking or warmth. Their more important function is to keep hyenas and other predators away until you’re safely inside your tent.

We were about to start cooking dinner when Johan drove around the bend, followed by two high-clearance trucks. They freed us, but by now it was too dark to enter the park, so we camped outside its gates.

With all Johan had done for us, we were happy to share some of our dinner with him. While the chicken grilled over the fire and I stirred my nightly packet of dried vegetable soup, Johan told us how he’d been chased by just about every animal in our guidebook. He’d climbed trees to escape buffalo, dived into the brush to avoid a rhino and even had his tent flattened by a produce-seeking elephant. He was just the person to teach us more about some of the animals we’d be sharing our campsites with over the next few weeks. Like, say, lions.

“Lions,” Johan assured us, “do not enter tents.”

“But can they enter tents?” we asked.

“Sure, with a flick of the paw if they want to.”

“Well, isn’t a sleeping human being an easier meal than a lightning-fast gazelle?”

“Lions do not enter tents,” Johan repeated. “Only hyenas do.”

Hyenas also like a good campfire, especially when there’s chicken on the grill. We shined our flashlights in an arc along the perimeter of the campsite, and the glowing eyes shined back at us. We could see their spotted, arched backs and the faces only a demon could love. Each time we shined a light there were two more eyes. They started howling.

“OK, guys, it’s time to go to our tents,” Johan said.

We fell asleep to the soothing sound of hyenas gnawing on our wheel rims.

The next morning we followed Johan to the Savute Safari Lodge. He insisted on making us breakfast while his mechanic inspected our vehicle. The mechanic didn’t have the parts to repair it, so we drove 150 miles back to Maun, the center of Botswana’s tourist industry, to get it repaired at a dealership.

*

The next day, armed with our now functional four-wheel-drive, we headed north to Zimbabwe and Victoria Falls. We’d seen photos before, but they did not prepare us for the falls’ grandeur. We lost all control of our expressions of awe. They came out like drool ... incredible ... amazing ... mind-boggling.

We returned to Botswana and camped alongside the Chobe River, where we spent the next four days going on game drives. One of the best strategies for viewing game is to spend the day beside a water hole. We soon learned that there’s a rigid hierarchy at water holes, with elephants at the top. Nobody, but nobody, is permitted to drink until they’ve finished. And they don’t just drink. They pour water over themselves, roll around, play or just hang out. One day we saw a lion walk by and glance longingly at the water. One elephant gave him a “none of your kind permitted here” look, and the lion kept right on walking.

Too soon, we had only a week of vacation left, just enough time to cross into Namibia and visit Etosha National Park.

Etosha turned out to be less primitive than the parks in Botswana. Its roads were paved, and visitors wore clean clothes. Water was pumped into artificial water holes to attract animals. Campers here came equipped with power generators and appliances.

Still, it was in Etosha that we experienced the crown jewel of our sightings, the solitary, elusive leopard. It crossed the road in front of us like an illusion, glanced back, then vanished before we even could fumble for our cameras.

After a month in the bush, it was now time to return to school, work and unemployment. We’d become fond of our dysfunctional vehicle and were going to miss it. The tree-shaped concavity in the rear bumper, the severed mirror and other assorted scratches and dents would cause our deposit to be withheld, but we didn’t care.

Driving back to Johannesburg, we agreed we might have seen more animals on an organized tour. We wouldn’t have gotten as dirty, exhausted, frightened, worn down or fed up. And we wouldn’t have had anywhere near as good a time.

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Guidebook: On the Loose in Botswana

* Getting there: From LAX, Delta, American, TWA, United and Swissair fly to Johannesburg, South Africa, with a change of planes. Restricted round-trip fares begin at $1,729.

* Telephones: To reach numbers below from the U.S., dial 011 (the international access code), 267 (the country code for Botswana) or 27 (the country code for South Africa) and the local number.

* SUV rentals: We paid $65 a day for our SUV Toyota Hilux, which we rented from Campers Corner, 5 Edward St. Kensington “B,” Randburg 2194, South Africa; 11-787-9105 or 11-789-2327, fax 11-787-6900, https://www.campers.co.za.

Another rental company we considered: Buffalo Campers, P.O. Box 536, Northriding 2162, Johannesburg, South Africa; 11-704-1300, fax 11-462-5266, https://www.buffalo.co.za.

* National parks: Botswana’s parks and reserves have few campsites, and they fill up quickly during the dry season. Campers have to pay three fees to enter. Camping fees for adults (16 and older) are $12 per night; children ages 8 to 15, $6 per night; 7 and younger, free.

Park entrance fees for adults are $25 per night; children 8 to 15, $12; 7 and younger, free.

Entry fees are $2 per day for vehicles registered in Botswana, $10 for foreign-registered ones.

For reservations, contact the Central and Southern Parks and Reserves Reservations Office, P.O. Box 131, Gabarone, Botswana; 661-265.

* For more information: Botswana Consulate, 333 S. Hope St., 38th floor, Los Angeles, CA 90071; (213) 626-8484, fax (213) 626-0078, https://www.gov.bw/home.html. As of Nov. 5, the offices will be at 355 S. Grand Ave., 40th floor, Los Angeles, CA 90071; telephone and fax will not change.