Trip Report: Experience Botswana In Style

There are trips you plan, and trips that feel as though they have been planned for you by something far larger than any itinerary. Our journey to Botswana in March 2026 was one of my favourite safaris, by far! Seven of us set off from the UK on the 22nd, routing through Johannesburg before crossing into a country in the middle of one of its most dramatic wet seasons in recent memory. While most of us didn't quite know what to expect, all of us came back changed.

To start with, we chartered a flight from Maun to Khwai. The anticipation on the flight was a particular kind of quiet electricity - the sort that builds when you are heading somewhere genuinely wild - the views out our windows added to that. Botswana has a reputation for the authentic, the unhurried, the unmediated. It is not a place that performs wildlife for you. It asks you to sit, watch and wait. And in a season already defined by extraordinary rainfall, it was about to show us exactly what it is capable of.

We began in Maun, the dusty, energetic gateway to the Okavango. From there, a charter flight carried us south and then deep over the delta. Whatever expectation we had built up, dissolved the moment the landscape opened below us. The Okavango in a normal year is extraordinary. The Okavango in a flood year is something else entirely and I for one have never seen it quite this way.

Water stretched far beyond its usual margins. Floodplains that should have been dry sand were silver and shimmering in the morning light. The whole country seemed to be breathing in. From 1,500 feet, the distinction between river and earth had all but disappeared. Green covered everything.

We flew deep into the Khwai concession before touching down and meeting our vehicles. The drive to our camp in Mababe began immediately and wasted no time establishing the mood of the trip. These were not roads we were expecting, they were waterlogged sand tracks, softened by weeks of rain into something that required a lot of skill, trust in your vehicle and a lot of patience. Deep water crossings appeared without warning. Sand swallowed tyres. Progress was slow and deliberate. It was magnificent.

Mababe: the smaller things

To arrive in Mababe at the height of the wet season is to arrive into a landscape almost unrecognisably lush. Everything was green. Not the pale, dusty olive of the dry months, but deep, saturated, almost tropical green ... and purple. There were dots of purple everywhere and we learned about "The Pretty Lady" plant which is beautiful and has various medicinal properties and uses too. The grasses were tall, the trees full, the waterholes overflowing. Into this abundance had come the animals in big numbers.

The large herbivores were easy to find. Elephants moved in family groups through the treeline; zebra and wildebeest grazed in the open, their stripes making odd patchworks against the grass. Giraffe appeared at intervals, sliding between the acacia canopy with that improbable, slow-motion grace.

But it was the smaller animals that truly drew us in. The mongoose three species of them. Dwarf mongoose, darting between termite mounds in neat little columns; banded mongoose erupting from the undergrowth in a surging, chattering mob; yellow mongoose, sentinel-straight on exposed mounds, watching the sky. These are animals that reward patience. Their family dynamics, their alarm calls, their territorial negotiations all played out in front of us.

The birds deserved a safari of their own. With water standing across the concession in quantities rarely seen, the birdlife was extraordinary. Waders, raptors, bee-eaters, rollers and kingfishers competing for attention at every turn. Every drive turned up new species, new behaviours, new light. In a landscape this alive, it was genuinely impossible to have a quiet morning.

Also during this part of our trip, we experienced something I had looked forward to for a long time - mokoro. Gliding through the waterways in a mokoro is one of the most peaceful and immersive experiences you can have on safari. Sitting low in the water, you feel completely part of the environment, moving slowly and silently through narrow channels lined with reeds and lilies. There’s no engine noise, just the gentle sound of the pole pushing against the riverbed and the quiet rhythm of the water. Birds call from all directions, small frogs scatter as you pass, and every now and then something larger shifts in the reeds. Time seems to slow down. It’s less about chasing sightings and more about taking everything in, the light, the colours, the stillness. It’s simple, calm and incredibly grounding, offering a completely different perspective on the Delta.

The road to Savuti: a day that had everything

If you have been on enough safaris, you know that travel days are supposed to be transitional, a means of getting from A to B. The drive from Mababe to Savuti was not that kind of day. It became, without any advance warning, the kind of day you talk about for years.

Within minutes and during the first few hours, before we had even properly settled into our seats, the bush began to deliver. Wild dogs in camp! We watched as they galloped around and called to each other in familiar yelps. They were on a hunt! From a distance we saw it happen and driving as quickly as we could, we arrived to find 9 dogs tearing away at their impala in a frenzy of hunger and instinct. It is one of the most visceral things the African bush offers: the concentrated violence and efficiency of a pack in their moment of success, joyful and bloody and utterly primal.

Before we had properly processed that, we got news of a leopard that had appeared. We got to it quickly and found it stretched along the very top of a large tree, tail hanging, utterly composed, as though it had placed itself there for our benefit and was already slightly bored of the attention. We stayed longer than we should have, taking various positions and also a small break to look at three lions.

Three lions gently walking about just a few meters away from the leopard. We stayed for a little longer and then had to head for the Mababe gate exit. Within a few hundred meters of leaving - a cheetah. It called and called and we all marvelled at how small a cheetah sounds. Shaka, our driver, deduced that these were two brothers and that potentially they had been split up for some reason. Maybe a fight, maybe an encounter with lion, who knows? But this lone cheetah called and called until we finally left it alone and wondered on. All of this action had happened within a single morning drive, on a day that was supposed to be about getting somewhere. By the time we reached Savuti as the light was going amber and low, we were already full of sightings, of photographs, of the particular, slightly dazed happiness that comes from a day the bush simply decides to give you everything at once.

Savuti: Lions, the Northern pride and the Renegades

Savuti has a reputation that precedes it. This is predator country in the truest sense. It is a landscape built around a dry riverbed, ancient marsh and the big game that has learned to live alongside that particular ecology. It is probably my favourite place in all of Botswana.

Over our time in Savuti, we encountered fifteen different lions. That figure, stated plainly, doesn't quite capture what it means on the ground. The scale of encounters, the variety of characters, the complexity of what we were watching. We spent time with members of the well-established Northern Pride, a large family unit whose territory covers the core of the Savuti channel area. And we encountered some of the Renegades, a breakaway group forging their own territory, younger, more volatile, still establishing the hierarchies that will define them for years to come.

A particular highlight of this part of the trip was watching a very young lion interact with the dominant male of the group. It was both comical and endearing, and we all had a good laugh as the big male gently batted the tiny youngster around. It felt like a real David and Goliath moment, bringing plenty of joy and smiles all round.

North to Kasane: elephants and the open landscape

The final leg of the journey carried us further north, towards Kasane and the Chobe. The landscape opened, with less dense bush, more space and more sky. And in that space, different animals. Elephants were everywhere, and these were Chobe elephants, among the largest-bodied on the continent. Watching them play in the water is one of those experiences that reminds you how much personality exists in species we tend to think of as scenery.

Large herds of impala moved through the open country, and giraffe appeared at intervals against the skyline. There were reports of leopard nearby. These were persistent and credible reports and we pursued them with hope. The leopard declined to cooperate. This, too, is part of the safari: the wild makes no promises. Good to think that the wonderful experiences and the things that elude you are what keep bringing you back.

Baboons, mongoose, antelope of various kinds filled the gaps generously. There were no dull moments. There rarely are in Botswana.

On our final full day in the bush, was given to the river. A three-hour boat excursion along the flooded Chobe was both relaxing and exciting. The water levels were exceptional, opening up channels and backwaters that are normally inaccessible, bringing the boat into proximity with banks and vegetation in ways that changed everything about the experience. The pace was slow. The light on the water was extraordinary although harsh.

The sighting that ended the journey, the one that somehow landed as the perfect final note, was the half-collared kingfisher. This is not a bird you simply stumble across. It is genuinely elusive, a waterway specialist that rewards effort and patience and a willingness to sit quietly in places where most people don't stop long enough. We found one with thanks to Felix who used a pair of thermal binoculars to follow it. Once we found it, it was still for exactly long enough for all of us to get a photo of it. It is the kind of encounter that stays with you not because of its scale but because of what it took to earn it.

Thanks to our exceptional local crew, Shaka, Vicks, Toni and Kennedy, none of this would have been what it was. Their knowledge ran deep, their dedication was faultless, and their company made the tough days easier and the great days truly unforgettable.

A special mention has to go to Vicks, our chef, who produced incredible food using nothing more than an open fire. From roasts to stews, starters and even cakes (with icing!), the standard was consistently outstanding.

We spent our final night in Kasane in a state that is difficult to name precisely. Tired, certainly.

Full, absolutely.

Full of images and moments and the specific kind of quiet that comes after days of sustained attention to something larger than yourself. Satisfied in the way that only real wilderness can satisfy you: not by being comfortable, but by being honest.

This was Botswana at its most elemental. Shaped by water, defined by wildlife, made extraordinary by the wildness of the land itself. The 11 days spent in Botswana were raw, they were real, and for seven people who arrived not quite knowing what to expect, it turned out to be exactly what we needed. We had an amazing group, who spent an extraordinary time together.

Botswana ... can't wait to go back.