A Day at the Delta Camp

Being used to the harsh intrusion of an alarm forcing consciousness upon me, it was a wonder to segue painlessly into a roseate dawn, alive with the soft sounds of birds and a variety of unidentifiable rustlings – dawn in the Garden of Eden. Instinctively I burrowed into the gloriously soft pillow, but was almost immediately drawn back to the awakening world beyond the reed walls of my abode. So it was that that I was already coming down the stairs from my chalet in the trees when my guide, Matsaudi, came softly down the path to wake me. Together we walked through the growing light to the deck, where we gather each morning before setting off to walk – walk! – through the magnificent Okavango delta.

Tea, freshly brewed coffee, fruit, home-made biscuits and reunion with the other guests and guides as the sun breaks the horizon. Discussion amongst the guides as to where we will walk. Each guest, or couple, has their own guide here at Delta Camp, so we are never with other guests on our activities, although we can team up with others if we wish. We don’t. The privilege of a guide to oneself and the intimacy of the experience override considerations of cameradie – plenty of time around the large and beautiful dining table for that. We have heard lion during the night, and I for one am keen to track them.  The Italian honey-mooners are sceptical of the idea of following up lion on foot. They will go after the legendary Pels Fishing owl instead.

Refreshed and armed with water, binoculars, cameras and courage, we set off. First it’s into the mokoro, the traditional dug-out canoe of the Okavango. Matsaudi's is made from the sausage tree, of which we have seen many specimens, with glorious ruby flowers that attract a profusion of birds, bees and, at night, fruit bats, squeaking with delight. We push off and are immediately surrounded by a magical water-world of sedges, grasses, lilies and a plethora of sub-aquatic species, all clearly visible in the crystal clear water. There is no sound but the swishing of the grass as the mokoro glides through, and the soft plash as the pole, or ngashi, propels us.

Delta Camp and its sister-camp Oddballs’ are apparently the only lodges in Botswana that still use traditional mekoro – all the others use fibre-glass replicas, a great comfort to the tree-huggers of the world, but I know where I’d rather be.

Suddenly the boat stops. My senses are instantly alert. What is it? A crocodile? Hippo? We’re sinking! No......slowly, with infinite care, the tip of the ngashi comes over my shoulder to indicate, not 12 inches from my face, the tiniest, most delicate, green and golden-striped frog in the world, no bigger than a thumb-nail, and eying me with apparent equanimity. ‘’Painted reed frog’’ murmurs Matsaudi sotto voce behind me. Everything about Matsaudi is sotto voce, especially when in the bush, although last night at dinner as he related the story of the guest who ran from a lion, and didn’t stop, he became quite animated, and his face lit up with flashing eyes and teeth as he roared with laughter.

Soon we are at the main river where we pause, silent and watchful for telltale signs of hippo. A fish eagle calls. A fish plops. A small whirlwind whispers across the water, creasing the surface and turning up the lily pads,  and dies. An African jacana picks its way over the lilies, its extended toes distributing its slight weight over a large enough area that the floating pads support it, but only in between judicious steps. Satisfied that the coast is clear Matsaudi leans heavily on the ngashi and we sweep swiftly into deep water. Beneath us white sand bars gleam, fish dart. The current swings us slightly astern but already we have reached the shallows. We penetrate a fringe of reeds and emerge into a field of lilies, a carpet of aphrodisiac flowers lying seductively in the water, straining towards the sun, bursting with pollen, busy with bees.

By the time we beach on Chief’s Island my senses are drenched. I step onto land, followed by Matsaudi. His eyes are everywhere, absorbing clues, reading signs, sniffing the air, interpreting the information. We walk a short way to a termite mound, and with this elevation he once again sweeps the island. Then he smiles. ‘’Please remember, it is very important, when we see the lions, don’t run away’’. For a moment his eyes become merry, then he is serious again. ’’Even if he comes to us.’’ I feel a slight prickle on my back. It is becoming warmer. I was told this on arrival, at some length, during my briefing. Lions are just big cats. Running animals excite their curiosity. Animals that stand up on their hind legs and stare them down excite their fear. Use those legs to run, and the curiosity takes over. Quite simple, really.  And logical. But still......

We set off. Quite extraordinary, the knowledge of this man. It seems that there is not a bush, a tree, a shrub, that is without its significance – as a mosquito repellent, as an ointment, a laxative, a cure for fever, an axe handle, children’s rattles.......it goes on. Birds are everywhere, in parties, foraging, in pairs, calling, soaring in solitude, and in the case of a minute Scops owl (that I took 5 minutes to see, with binoculars, having been given painstaking directions by a man who saw it out of the corner of his eye without any help from anyone or anything), dozing against a tree-trunk.

We were an hour into the walk and the large mammals had been a little scarce – a couple of elephant in the distance, a mixed herd of impala and tsessebe, signs of a small buffalo herd having passed in the night (‘’Bulls’’, remarked my remarkable guide, his eyes lazily flicking the deep shade of the island forest. That prickle again.) We had just emerged into onto the edge of an extensive flood-plain when it happened. My first recollection was the sound – something quite unlike anything I could have imagined. Beyond deep, beyond menace. My brain melted. Several things happened at the same time – I saw it stand up in the grass in front of me, Matsaudi’s hand closed firmly on my upper arm, my legs screamed ‘Run!!’ while my brain screamed ‘Don’t run!!’ and then it was gone, leaving me panting in a cold sweat, my heart racing, emotion and memory competing for attention, while Matsaudi laughed quietly to himself (and no doubt at me) and set about investigating the scene.

It was obvious – to him – from the signs that we had disturbed a lone male, one of the two we had heard calling to one another in the night. There could be females and cubs close by – did I want to look for them? I did not. I did not want anything – anything at all – to spoil for me the memory and experience of 500lbs of feline muscle, grace and yellow eyes confronting me – being confronted by me! – at a distance of 8 or 10 yards. It was only a moment, but a moment seared onto my consciousness indelibly and forever more. And I felt as Cleopatra might have on surveying her routed enemy fleeing before her, and her lover prostrate at her feet. Invincible!

We walked quietly back to the mokoro, continuing on our circuitous route. Much more game presented itself now, lechwe and baboons and warthogs and wildebeest and a glimpse of a honey-badger, some zebra, a jackal, but I felt it all competing unsuccessfully for my attention – all but the family of giraffe, that stood for us as we approached, silent, immobile, until we were craning our necks to look them in the face, before they turned with a sudden swirl of tale and spurt of dust, cantering in the awesome, slow-motion gait a short distance before turning again to stand and stare. That and the elephant, drinking next to our mokoro  when we returned to it, that made us wait 10 minutes before wading majestically into the water and making his way to a nearby island replete with tasty palms.

Back at camp the breakfast table lay groaning under its load of cereals,  dried and fresh fruit, nuts, toast, eggs, bacon, flapjacks, tomato and sausage and and and, enough to feed an army. The others were back just before us, the honey-mooners waxing lyrical about the owls. Matsaudi and I bided our time, I, at least, feeling infinitely superior. And invincible. Invincible!