Animal Kingdom

The smell of meat frying in butter is wafting through the communal kitchen. We are busy chopping a mountain of vegetables for the potije (a South African stew that you aren’t supposed to call a stew). The rain is pelting the roof of the hostel as the backpackers one-up each other on the booze stories. Ryan from Bristol shows everyone the tattoos he got while wasted (“Chaos” inside his lower lip and “Your name” on his butt).

We feel a bit out of place at first. The people here are the same age as us, yet we seem to have nothing in common. Things change a bit as we get to know everyone a little better. We go for a short trip to a bird sanctuary with Ryan and Remy (from the Philippines and on a mission to see every country in the world). Ryan quickly makes friends with our guide, the other tourists in the safari car and a couple of trees en route.

It’s amazing to watch someone so at ease with strangers. On the drive he keeps everyone entertained with his rendition of the Lion King soundtrack. Once inside the sanctuary silence descends onto the vehicle. The grassy plains with herds of wildebeest are set off sharply against the dark sky. We roam around the sandy tracks, finding a mother hyena and her pups, wild ostriches and their chicks, a flock of pelicans and other new birds for our collection.

The temperature has dropped considerably and the guys curse themselves for turning up in shorts and t-shirts. Here Lina’s Germaness shines through in the form of weather appropriate clothing. Just before sunset we penguin huddle on a beach overlooking a salty inland sea and nurse a couple of ciders. The other tourists are keen to return to their dry, warm lodges and we almost miss out on the most spectacular sunset of the trip. Back at the hostel we gather round the fire and enjoy the delicious potije.

Too early for our taste we are back in the saddle, pedaling towards the town of Maun and the Okavango delta. Supposedly we should have tailwind for this entire section. Yet over the next few days it seems to be coming from every which way in varying levels of intensity. But the views more than make up for the hardship. We cycle alongside hundreds of zebra, startle a few elephants, spot giraffes in the distance and an ostrich next to the road.

We are prepared to rough it again camping wise, forgoing showers and a bed to save our pennies for a boat trip to the delta. On our first night we are positively surprised by the amenities at the abandoned gas station we’re camping at. Not only does it have a leaky roof but also a filthy bathroom with thousands of mosquitoes. Still, our tent stays reasonably dry and a shower in a dirty bathroom is still better than no shower at all. Low expectations really are the key to happiness!

The next day we aren’t quite as lucky in our choice of accommodation. After an exhausting day of 125km (the biggest distance yet) we pull into another transmission tower yard. We set up the tent on a little concrete platform underneath the tower so that it doesn’t get too sandy when the rain inevitably comes. Then we timidly climb up a few rungs of the ladder to get a better view of the surroundings. In the night we are jolted awake by a thunderstorm.

In the morning we wake up in a puddle as the bottom of our tent is apparently not waterproof anymore. We grumbly pack up the sodden sleeping bags and start the final push towards Maun. Somehow the weather manages to be too hot, too sunny, too humid and too headwindy all at once. By the time we reach the town we are pretty worn out. To top it all off Ben gets a puncture three kilometers before the end and we have to stop every 500m to pump up the tire.

Once arrived our mood is lifted as we meet Joel from Germany – a real cyclist who uses tubeless tires and wears a Rapha t-shirt. We chat for hours about his route in East Africa before setting out to organize our boat trip for the next day. The booking office closes at 5pm, yet when we get there at 4:30 it’s all locked up and the lady on the phone just says “we close at 5”. Thanks to a contact of Joel’s we still manage to sort out something over the phone and enjoy a sumptuous dinner at an Indian restaurant.

In the morning we head out into the hinterland of Maun to one of the boat landing sites of the Okavango delta. We’re greeted by our two polers who will maneuver the easily tippable dugout canoes (called mokoros) through the meandering waterways. We just sit back and try not to move too much as the mokoros glide silently through the shallows. We float past reeds and water lillies; bugs are flitting across the channels and blacksmith lapwings squawk at us for invading their territory.

In the distance we spot zebra, wildebeest and many cows that have strayed into the national park without paying the entrance fee. On a little walk around the dry floodplains we also spot aardvark holes and stumble over elephant dung that is nurturing a small mushroom farm. Overhead the helicopters are circling for the vastly richer tourists to take in the whole delta in all its glory. For us poor schmucks on the ground it’s more pleasant than spectacular.

We spend the next couple of days enjoying the tourist city comforts. We sleep wrapped up in a cozy bed with white linens while the rain is switched on and off outside. We also wave Joel goodbye. We will reach Namibia soon while he continues on his way to Rwanda. By now we have a good sense of the adventures that await him and he wishes us well for “the most challenging part” of our journey.