The Rainy Season Strikes Back

The engines are revving, cameras at the ready, expectant looks are exchanged. The guides give some last words of warning. Then the hunt is on! The pack of twenty odd safari cruisers goes on the prowl for cheetahs, lions and other helpless predators. The guides radio back and forth along the Chobe river, determined to get us that picture of the elephant parade or the zebra dance.

One of the drawbacks of cycling in Africa is that we cannot go for a self drive in the national parks to see animals without fifty other tourists around. But it’s still fun to race down the sandy roads in the bumpy car because the guide got a tip about a pride of lions. We find them fifteen minutes later, enjoying an elephant for breakfast. Close by the trees are covered in vultures waiting for their turn at the buffet.

In the afternoon we go for a boat ride on the river. Once again everyone races to be the first and closest to the crocodile or the elephants crossing the river. Thankfully our guide gives the animals a bit more space. He also has infinite patience and identifies even the smallest bird for Lina. Our Pokédex of birds is really coming along. Dark clouds are massing on the horizon as we get back to shore. In the night the rain drip drops through our tent outer, no wonder since it has endured a lot of UV damage over the last months.

From here we follow the road south along the Zimbabwean border. It’s lined by hundreds of deceased tires and (sometimes fortress like) termite mounds. Botswana is known for its wide, flat, open spaces where animals roam freely and you are advised to not get out of your car. Hence we are constantly on the alert but only spot two elephants, a few antelopes with bunny ears and lots of cattle. Usually we have to watch out for troops of baboons or mongoose, but these days it’s horses that nibble on our Weetabix.

In this part of the country we are very much on the tourism circuit. We share the campsites with all kinds of people, from the usual 60+ year-old overlanders to British 20 somethings on their booze cruise. The former are still our preferred crowd as they come with invitations for breakfast and to visit pretty German towns. We also meet Lotte and Thibaut cycling north to Rwanda. They have only been on the road for a month and a half since Cape Town and are doing twice as much daily distance as us. But they are Belgian after all so it’s not really a fair comparison.

The wind is generally a tiresome cross breeze and Lina does her best to hide behind Ben’s hulking frame. The sky is often overcast and the temperatures have dropped which is a welcome change from last month’s sweltering heat. In our minds Botswana was a dry country year round and until now we just smiled incredulously when told by other travelers that the rainy season is approaching. But over the next few nights Mother Nature, sometimes gently, often forcefully corrects our foolishness.

The presence of wildlife and the low population density mean that these days we have to do bigger distances between campsites. Wild camping is not really an option since we don’t want to end up as lion fodder. We therefore look to gas stations or transmission towers for safe accommodation. It’s a little less glamorous but certainly an experience we don’t want to miss out on. At one of these transmission towers (with surprisingly terrible cell service) we receive a warm welcome from the full time guard.

He warns us of the abundant scorpions (didn’t see any) and shows us the pit toilets (almost full). Then his colleague arrives and we see him running towards the tower dragging a dead impala through the sand behind him. While hunting is strictly regulated in Botswana, roadkill is apparently fair game. The guards happily string up the carcass on a lower rung of the tower and spend the rest of the afternoon butchering it. Looks like meat’s back on the menu boys!

Everyone (especially the locals) warned us about the animals on this road, thereby raising our expectations greatly. But after many elephant shaped signs and cows posing as zebra from a distance we are somewhat disappointed to arrive in Nata without any closer encounters. The weather has now definitely taken a British turn and our decrepit tent isn’t really up to the challenge. All in all, it’s a very different vibe from what we were expecting.

At this point it’s our google sheet of statistics that comes to the rescue of the mood. We have earned ourselves a dry room with a roof at a hostel for a few nights since – drumroll please – we’ve now officially cycled for 10,000km! Always great when these reasons to celebrate coincide with our needs. Otherwise we’d have to make up something else to justify the money we’d spend no matter what.