Botswana: Kayak the Okavango

You paddle from the northern panhandle down through the channels and floodplains, camping on a different island each night, and the water decides the route.

Because it's floodwater that never reaches the sea. Because most safaris happen through a window or out the top of a van. This one happens from a kayak, at eye level with 130,000 large mammals and Africa's largest remaining elephant population. Because it's a maze of channels, islands, lagoons, elephants, lions, buffalo, hippos, gazelle, crocodiles and enough birdlife to make the sky go dark. And because somehow, hardly anybody is there. We aren't heading out to a luxury honeymoon lodge, we are paddling through it, camping in it, sleeping in it and occasionally being stared down by hippos in it.

The Okavango is not really a river in the usual sense. It is floodwater spreading across the Kalahari Desert, creating one of the richest wildlife habitats on the planet.

There are no roads; the waterways are the roads and they change every year. No two years leave the same channels, meaning each journey is different and requires just as much planning as the year before.

There are also no fences. The wildlife goes wherever it wants, which is great, provided you remember that some of the wildlife weighs three tonnes and has opinions.

Elephants towering over you from the reeds. Fish eagles floating on the thermals overhead. Hippos suspiciously watching from the water. Crocodiles basking in the heat. Buffalo wading through the floodplains. Lions roaring in the distance. Hyenas laughing in the dark, and the deafening freight-train-like roar of hundreds of impala and zebra galloping through the water alongside you.

We start in Maun. Everyone arrives, we enjoy one final evening of relative civilisation. Then we head into the Delta: first by road in 4x4s, then by motorboat to the starting point. Then we load up the kayaks and cargo boat and away we go. The deeper we go, the quieter everything becomes. First the phone signal disappears, then the roads disappear. We pass out of the riverside villages and the people disappear. The Delta takes over.

A normal day starts early with coffee around the fire and a sunrise walk to check for surrounding wildlife. Then breakfast — sausages, eggs, beans, toast and coffee while the sun comes up over the water. Then we fold down the tents, roll up the bedding and continue up the delta.

Some days are long, some days can be hot. Some involve threading through narrow reed channels where you can see 100% of nothing. Some open into huge floodplains where animals seem to be moving in every direction.

Lunch happens somewhere beautiful, with a welcome break and chance to take it all in before we paddle again. By late afternoon we arrive at camp. The tents go up, the bedrolls unravel and the pillows and duvets are ready. There are hot water wash basins for a quick wash before dinner and an evening bush walk. Dinner gets cooked over the fire. Cold drinks and wine are opened. The sun drops, the delta gets noisy.

Every trip is supported by experienced local guides who understand the channels, campsites, wildlife behaviour and conditions. Routes may change depending on water levels, wildlife movements, weather and local advice. Support boats carry equipment. Emergency communications are carried. Wildlife encounters are managed carefully.

That said, this is real wilderness. The animals have not signed the itinerary. Flexibility is part of the experience. Good judgement always comes first.