We’ve been back for a month now, so it’s high time I posted the story of our adventures! 😉 I’d also like to thank everyone who shared their own experiences on this forum (or elsewhere) and gave us tips—it really helped us plan our trip.

14/09/2019: Johannesburg - Vryburg After months of waiting and reading other travelers’ journals, it’s finally our turn! We arrived in Johannesburg from Nantes and Paris in the morning. We looked for the Bushlore rep—we’d rented our 4x4 from them—but there was no sign with our name! « Bushlore? She’s a woman, I saw her a few minutes ago, » someone told us. A minute later, the Bushlore employee showed up: a man! 🤪 He sped onto the highway, and just 30 minutes later, we arrived at the rental place. It’s a big operation with good organization and lots of vehicles—pretty reassuring. Our 4x4 was there, a classic Toyota Hilux fully equipped for safari: rooftop tent, dual diesel tanks, 60-liter water reserve, two batteries, two spare tires, all the camping gear, plus everything needed for *désensablement* (getting unstuck from sand). Speaking of which, is it "désensablage" or "désensablement"? Best to just avoid getting stuck in the first place! 😏 Good news… or not: the vehicle was brand new, with barely 100 kilometers on the odometer. On one hand, we figured we wouldn’t have mechanical issues or a fridge breakdown, but on the other, we knew it wouldn’t be easy to return it without a single scratch. Either way, it was our first time renting a 4x4, and we were impressed.



We set off toward Kgalagadi Transfrontier Park—it’s not exactly around the corner! In 1994 (when Mandela had just become President) and 2007, during our two previous trips to South Africa, we loved this park, so we couldn’t imagine going to Botswana without returning. The road was pretty monotonous, with not much to see except a few ostriches.







We stopped for the night in Vryburg at the Kameelboom Lodge campsite. It was a bit noisy since it’s close to the road, and the facilities weren’t great, but it was fine for one night.

An 80-Day Tour of Southern Africa

Back in South Africa

January 12, 2013, 5:30 AM, Flight BA043 London-Cape Town

Directly below, Windhoek glittered like a tangle of fairy lights still lit and tossed into a box.

The horizon, edged in purple, was setting up a backup fireworks display, and suddenly, like a cherry on the platter and with unbearable intensity, in less than two minutes the entire sun revealed a gray dam and then a vast, untouched massif.

A few more minutes and the glare to the east of the plane was total. In Africa, the sun is swift.

We still had a France to cross before landing, but it felt as if we were already there. To the west, the raking light revealed what looked like acne and long, swollen scars in a desert region that might be the Swartkloofberg. Further still, straight as far as the eye could see, the two parallel tracks of a dirt road.

At 11,500 meters altitude and 940 km/h, we had a sense of stillness until the Orange River appeared, an incongruous serpent, gray edged with green.

The first South African settlements were dotted with trees providing shade, then rivers highlighted by continuous lines of vegetation.

Water and shade that make life possible.

We’ll return here by the backroads.

Half an hour from Cape Town, the plane tilted toward the sea, crossing plantations (likely citrus) and then an explosion of cultivated greenery in circles on either side of an unruly river. Finally, the coastline was no longer just sand and water—a frothy hem, a suture?

A peninsula came into view, forming two magnificent bays, and... a flight attendant firmly instructed me to return to my seat: we’d arrived!

The Colors of Cape Town

The city was dressed up as I like them—deserted, fluid, free of its vendors.

In the parking lot of the endless beach next to the commercial port north of the city, about two hundred people were unloading their goods in front of their pickups or combis, none of which were from this century: mixed-race, ageless Black people, and white folks who looked like they’d stepped out of another era.

After a few minutes, intrigued, I played a game: first looking at the merchandise, then imagining who was selling it, and finally looking at who was actually manning the stall. Tall Black vendors were selling what they often sell in Europe—leather, sunglasses, watches; mixed-race folks offered discount bundles, and the tanned older white people seemed to have emptied their attics.

We left with an antique tin kettle for morning tea over an open fire, a pack of five exercise books (that’s 600 pages to fill), Bill Bryson’s earliest stories in English, some snoek rillettes (a local fish), and—never seen before—tuna biltong and snoek biltong.

In so-called advanced countries, Sunday is for sports: white cyclists dressed like pros sweating diligently, Black street vendors running in loops at red lights to sell trash bags that day; white golfers losing their balls, which a scantily clad Black man retrieves from the water; under the sails of kite surf boards, it’s all blondes, and in the foam, joyful splashes from a bunch of Black kids.

Searching for an unusual spot for lunch, we drove through the fishing port looking for a dive and, at the end of a dead-end road with no warning, we arrived at the Shimmy Beach Club—quite the program.

The place, open for just three weeks, aims to be ultra-trendy. You could be in San Francisco, Lisbon’s docks, or St. Barth. This time, the "visible" staff was diverse, but the clientele was exclusively white, except for one mixed-race couple.

For this Sunday lunch, the women had pulled out all the stops, and local starlets—who’d make ours look tame—were turning the terrace into a frenzy.

At Cape Town’s port, the girls have *port*. The trend seems to be crochet dresses over swimsuits.

For two hours, a team of employees watered and raked the sand, starting over when they finished. A child in a floaty pink dress and a gold headband, but a future adventurer, stepped onto the freshly raked artificial beach sand for the first time.

A lanky mixed-race man dragged a hose across the ground, followed by a white woman—enchanted?—who then started watering the sand herself, carelessly splashing the glass terrace her colleague had just swept. I suspect a tacit work arrangement to keep everyone employed.

A galleon packed with tourists (are there any in the hold? Does it take tourists to Robben Island?) left the port. A helicopter took off in its wake. Trawlers returned, cutting through a ballet of catamarans, their waterlines well above the water: a bad catch.

If there’s one country where you can’t pretend to ignore skin color, it’s this one. The question is in everyone’s mind, and here more than anywhere else, it’s a decisive economic and political factor.

Columbine of Brittany

200 km north of Cape Town and 9,000 km south of the Breton coast, but on the same cold ocean, we camped on the shore of the Columbine Cape Nature Reserve, sheltered by a rocky chaos that, at first light tomorrow, would transport us to Perros-Guirec.

Our first encounter with wild animals wouldn’t end well for them: it was crayfish season, and they were the size of lobsters at Lorient’s fish market. Bought for R60 (5.5 €) a pair from kids in Pater Noster, they’d end up between two rocks, over a fire. But first, we had to pair the Chenin blanc with some snoek biltong.

With no wood, I lit a fire at dawn with dried seaweed and kelp, as if petrified; it gave off a smell of court-bouillon and... tires. Two hundred fathoms away, on an outpost, an army of cormorants stood at attention, unmoved among the frolicking seals.

At the reserve’s exit, the guard spoke French; Patrick Mwanba had arrived from Congo three years earlier to study, but the cost of living here forced him to drop out. He’d like to return home because life is cheaper there, but the war made him hesitate.

Ding ding dong! Vroom! Arf arf, Woof! Buzz! (A night from hell!)

I’d long planned to visit Calvinia, the center of a region known for extensive sheep farming. An excellent provincial museum, run by an enthusiastic curator, kept us too late to start the drive north.

So we camped in a tiny, charming campsite set up in the garden of a house. A few trees, a patch of resilient grass, and a view of a pretty lit-up steeple—what else?

Well, it turned out to be a sound-and-light show, with the pretty steeple chiming the hours and half-hours. Then suddenly, we were in the VIP stands of the Karoo-Kalahari Truck Race: roaring trucks paraded under our canvas windows, and we realized we were on the main road through town. To top it off, we enjoyed an uninterrupted canine cacophony, from the *arf arf* of little dogs to the *woof* of a mastiff. Oh, and some mosquitoes—the first ones—insisted on keeping us company in the tent, and we hadn’t yet bought the arsenal to neutralize them.

I walked through Calvinia at night; the house gardens weren’t fenced, nor did they have the «Armed Response» signs so common in the country.

The Kalahari Trails

(No, no, I haven’t converted to hiking.)

North of Calvinia, in the south of the Northern Cape, small towns follow one another up to Upington, about a hundred kilometers apart—welcome havens. Between them, with no trees in sight, we stopped in the shade of a motionless cloud: the temperature exceeded 40°C in mid-January.

We were almost out of the High Karoo and into a region of pans drying up, until the first red dunes appeared, precursors of the Kalahari. In the sparse veld vegetation, gatherings of quiver trees in the kopjes, and a caravan of camels without a handler or packs, marching in perfect formation across a pan (no, I hadn’t overdone the Windhoek at the last stop, and no, I wasn’t dehydrated enough to hallucinate).

The historic part of these towns, European in style, was built on the same plans as those in the American Midwest or the Australian Outback: a grid of streets wide enough to turn a wagon pulled by eight pairs of oxen. The architecture was Dutch-inspired, tropicalized with awnings.

Then came more recent housing, functional in style, where the wealthier mixed-race people—who make up the majority of this state—lived, and further on, the township, an assemblage of corrugated iron and plastic, like everywhere else.

Orange, Right Bank

North of Augrabies Falls National Park, on the other side of the Orange River, stretches a rugged and wild territory the size of fifty Groix islands, crisscrossed by a few tracks—the Riemvasmaak.

The inhabitants were driven out half a century ago for a military base, and as soon as President Mandela was elected, he made it a symbol by allowing the exiled populations to return. Several ethnic groups live here on almost nothing, in government-built shacks.

A community camp is set up in a small cirque at the end of a canyon that, while not in the history books, offers a good descent. By mid-afternoon, the air was at 44°C, but luckily there was a spring... except it was a hot spring, with water at 38°C. And they haven’t invented a reversible spring yet. Once the birds and baboons had settled in, in absolute silence and far from any light pollution, we enjoyed the stars like nowhere else (well, that’s what they claim in the region).

The Orange didn’t choose the easy path: arriving from Lesotho, it was almost at the ocean. The terrain to the south and north of this massif seemed easier to cross. Was it to avoid the curse of the Okavango, whose waters disappear into the sands without ever seeing the sea, that it chose this rocky route, thinking that at least the granite wouldn’t steal its water?

I Love You, I Eat You

In the dry bed of the Auob, it lay panting, head raised, alert, between its paws but head-to-tail, a tawny springbok, motionless.

A few minutes earlier, their story had been written in a lightning-fast chase, captured in photos by the driver of the car that alerted us.

It would be a long time before it started eating at the groin without breaking its surveillance.

Earlier, there was a lion lounging in the shade and hundreds of antelopes: springboks and gemsboks (oryx) in herds, hartebeests and steenboks alone. Strange pairs, apart several times, formed by a springbok and a gemsbok.

A few solitary jackals moved slightly sideways, looking furtive. Ostriches, alone, looking a bit dazed.

It was a lucky morning in the Kgalagadi (KTP).

In and Out

Kgalagadi, Nossob Camp.

We were at the very end of the almost-empty camp, ten meters from the fence, whose structure wouldn’t resist an elephant (though there aren’t any here), but it was electrified.

At dusk, on the other side, ten meters away, three lions passed in a row, as if on parade, seemingly focused on their goal and indifferent to the camp, though they glanced at it.

A jackal had gotten into the camp and was trying to get out without success while scavenging. I offered it two pieces of snoek biltong (Don’t feed the animals!) from three meters away—it smelled strong and had bones (bones in biltong!). When it passed by again, it sniffed but didn’t dare approach. Curled up in the chair, motionless, by the faint moonlight, I finally saw it come closer, grab the nearest piece, and move ten meters away to enjoy it (how many jackals know the finer points of sea biltong?). A little reassured, it came back for the second piece.

Another Morning

By morning, the jackal was gone, but our luck hadn’t left us. Two cheetahs again, who found me in the way and slowly moved toward a calmer shadow. Enough birds of prey to form a squadron, but they’re solitary hunters. Two ostriches busy with their dozen unruly chicks. And while we’re at it, a group of four Kalahari lions, sprawled under a thorny bush. Lots of oryx crossing the dunes and herds of red hartebeest. Kori bustards and secretary birds.

It was the first time the Kgalagadi had spoiled us so much.

Hi everyone, We’re seriously considering a two-week trip in August 2026 with our kids, who’ll be 11 and 10 years old. That’s where we’re torn on the destination. For those who’ve been to both, could you share the main differences? I get the impression that in Botswana, the landscapes are a bit samey everywhere, while Namibia offers more diversity? We’re looking for an "off-the-beaten-path" adventure: safaris, meeting local communities, etc., and not too many touristy spots. Thanks for your help! Olivia

Hello,

I’m reaching out because I’ve already read tons of info from other forums (thanks a million, by the way!) and blogs, but now I’m overwhelmed with details and have so many questions. I’m really hoping you can help us figure this out! Here’s the plan: We’re leaving France for Senegal in our camper van (with two kids, aged 4 and 7), then shipping the van to South Africa before heading to Namibia. We’re planning to leave this summer and should arrive in South Africa in early September. The goal is to reach Réunion by early December, which gives us 3 months to explore Southern Africa. Originally, we wanted to pick up the van in Cape Town, head up to Namibia, and visit the main parks and iconic spots, then go north to Botswana (Etosha Park) and Zimbabwe (Victoria Falls) before heading back down to South Africa to enjoy the milder temperatures while exploring the country. But now we’re wondering how to get back to South Africa. We’ve come up with three options: - Head back down through Botswana: I’ve read everywhere that Botswana isn’t recommended for kids under 6 (most parks) because it can be potentially dangerous—few enclosures for animals (even though we have a camper van with "secure" beds), and the agencies we’ve contacted don’t recommend it. Plus, southern Botswana is tough to navigate in a camper van. - Return from central Botswana (Maun) to Windhoek and drive back to Cape Town via Namibia. - Cross Zimbabwe and potentially Mozambique to head down to Kruger Park and Johannesburg.

Anyone familiar with this region have any recommendations?

Also, is it necessary to book accommodations in advance? Is that only required in certain countries (maybe Botswana/Zimbabwe)? We’d like a mix of camping and lodges.

All advice is welcome!

We bought round-trip tickets from Mulhouse/Basel to Maun (Botswana) in January 2023 through Option Way.

Turkish Airlines issued the entire round-trip tickets. The flight plan was:

31 August 2023: TK 926 from Basel/Mulhouse to Istanbul and TK38 from Istanbul to Johannesburg 1 September 2023: Airlink (4Z)300 from Johannesburg to Maun. 11 September 2023: Airlink (4Z)301 from Maun to Johannesburg and TK43 from Johannesburg to Istanbul 12 September 2023: TK1923 from Istanbul to Basel/Mulhouse.

On 1 September, on the outbound trip, Turkish Airlines flight TK38 from Istanbul to Johannesburg arrived 1 hour and 30 minutes late due to airport congestion. As a result, we missed our connection with Airlink flight (4Z) 300 from Johannesburg to Botswana (even though the initial layover time was sufficient for the connection). Upon arrival at Johannesburg Airport, a Turkish Airlines agent greeted us, booked us a room near the airport, and rebooked us on the same flight for the following day, 2 September. On 2 September, after numerous difficulties checking in at the Airlink counter in Johannesburg, we finally reached our final destination with a 24-hour delay. We lost our first day of vacation in Botswana, including the activities that were planned for that day. On 11 September, during our return trip and almost certainly due to the rescheduling of the outbound flight, the Airlink check-in counter in Maun did not recognize our tickets issued by Turkish Airlines. After many searches and phone calls, we had to buy new tickets for the Maun/Johannesburg flight 4Z301. This cost us 9,306 Botswana pula (643 €). Upon arrival in Johannesburg, the Turkish Airlines check-in counter again had trouble identifying us for flight TK43 from Johannesburg to Istanbul. It’s clear that the root of our check-in problems stemmed from the renumbering of our tickets when the Turkish Airlines representative rebooked us on the Airlink (4Z)300 flight for 2 September. During this process, all subsequent flight tickets must have been canceled. Since our return, I’ve requested the following from Turkish Airlines: · Compensation under the European Regulation EC 261/2004 of 11 February 2004 for flight delays, amounting to 600 € per passenger. We meet all the conditions: departure from a Franco/Swiss airport, arrival at the final destination more than 4 hours late, and a distance greater than 3,500 kilometers. Turkish Airlines has not provided evidence that they did everything possible to avoid this delay. · Reimbursement for the Airlink Maun/Johannesburg tickets on 11 September, which we had to pay again to Airlink even though we had already paid for them through our agent, Option Way. Turkish Airlines refuses compensation on the grounds that they complied with all regulations. Turkish Airlines and Airlink are passing the buck when it comes to reimbursing the tickets we paid for twice. For Turkish Airlines, claims can only be made through their website, and each time a different agent responds. I’ve contacted our insurance, legal protection, the travel ombudsman... without success. Currently, the case is with a lawyer working for "Air Indemnité," but I have little hope. Obviously, I won’t be flying with Turkish Airlines again—they seem to have a habit of not respecting schedules or customer satisfaction. A good lesson for planning very long layovers.

Well, here goes—I’m taking the plunge. This is my first blog on VF, so I hope I don’t make too many blunders. In advance, you’ll have to excuse me because they’ll definitely happen anyway Here’s the context of our trip: - Project started: December 2015 ... yeah, that’s a while ago - Family of 4: 2 adults, 1 teen (17) and a 10-year-old boy - First trip to Southern Africa

Originally, we’d planned to go to Namibia. But after watching a TV documentary, we took a slight detour to the right and ended up in Botswana 🙂 Don’t worry, we’ll still do Namibia—just a bit later. It’s definitely not off the table. Quite the opposite!!

After that big decision, the question was: "Should we go alone or with an agency?" Through my son, who’s into music, we were lucky enough to meet some VF members who love Botswana: Marygabrielle and Yves (I won’t name-drop, but you know who you are). They were amazing and helped us with every aspect of our trip. We can’t thank them enough 😉 So, I didn’t even need to ask VF for all my questions 😛

For a first time in Southern Africa, and especially for Botswana, they easily convinced us to use a small local agency for at least part of the tour we wanted to do. After multiple conversations online—and thanks to Marygabrielle acting as our translator (our English is *terrible* )—our itinerary was finalized, and ... we ended up spending our entire vacation with this local agency:

Letsatsi Safaris (email for those interested: letsatsisafaris@gmail.com, website: www.letsatsisafarilodge.com, phone: +267 71692093/71351892) Joe and William (the owners) are brothers and true Batswana.

Since Marygabrielle and Yves knew them well, we set off with them in complete confidence. Everything was planned and paid for in advance, so all we had to do was relax once we arrived. Pure bliss for me—real vacation time without having to prepare meals 😛 and being able to fully enjoy everything. Everything was included: guides (them, in this case), accommodation (mostly in tents), and a cook. All we had to do was help set up and take down the tents. Indiana Jones better watch out—we’re going camping in the wild too 🙂 A dream come true!

Of course, there’s an extra cost compared to traveling solo. But this time, we splurged, and we don’t regret that choice at all.

They were all fantastic—professional, friendly—and it was a huge joy for us. We had an amazing time thanks to them. A big thank you to Joe, William, and all their staff we met: Jonah, Junien, and Doris.

Now, time for the story!

Hi, I'm looking for information on the road conditions in Moremi. We're leaving in 15 days, and from what I've heard, the roads are pretty tough to drive on. Any advice? Thanks

Before Our Departure Preparing for this trip started 9 months before our departure in June. For those planning a similar itinerary, it’s important to book accommodations well in advance, especially in the Okavango and Savuti campsites—otherwise, you might not find any availability.

Introduction After visiting Zambia three years ago and Namibia and western Botswana a year and a half ago, this year we chose Zimbabwe (Hwange NP) and the northern half of Botswana. Our flight from Paris was to Victoria Falls with Ethiopian Airlines, with a layover in Addis Ababa. We rented a 4x4 from Bushlore in Kasane, complete with two rooftop tents since there are four of us on this adventure. Bushlore picked us up from our guesthouse to collect our 4x4 and, most importantly, gave us a rundown of the vehicle and its equipment. Pay close attention to what they tell you—it could be crucial if something goes wrong, as it did for us during the trip.

Our Itinerary We arrived on June 12th at noon. At Victoria Falls Airport, we got our double-entry visa right away—I’d already pre-booked it online on the site https://www.evisa.gov.zw/. Since our vehicle was in Botswana, we had to cross the border from Victoria Falls into Botswana for the first time. The next morning, Bushlore picked us up from our guesthouse to collect our 4x4. After completing the formalities, we headed toward Zimbabwe and the town of Victoria Falls. We woke up early the next morning to be at Victoria Falls at sunrise. The scenery was stunning, but since it was the start of the dry season, the Zambezi was still high, so the falls had a strong flow. This made it hard to fully appreciate their beauty. In the early afternoon, we left for Hwange NP, where we stayed for 4 days. Two days at Gwango campsite near Dete, followed by two days at Robins Camp. We expected to see more animals at Robins, but that wasn’t the case. In Hwange, we didn’t spot any predators, but we did see plenty of mammals (buffalo, elephants, giraffes, zebras, and antelopes). After a few days in Zimbabwe, we crossed back into Botswana at Pandamatenga. We stopped at Nata Lodge for a good night’s rest—driving on the dirt roads is exhausting. We left Nata and headed toward Nxai Pan. The road was sandy but manageable. We made a small detour to admire some beautiful baobabs at "Baines Baobabs." Then we continued to our campsite, Nxai Pan South Camp. Keep in mind that many campsites in Botswana aren’t fenced (except for the shower/toilet areas), so animals can roam freely within the camp. Take precautions, especially after dark. After our stop in Nxai Pan, we headed to Maun. We decided to break our journey in Maun before heading to Moremi and the Okavango Delta for three reasons: first, we needed to stock up on supplies and fuel for the next 5 days; second, our fridge had broken (luckily, Bushlore has a branch in Maun); and third, the drive from Nxai to our camp in Xakanaxa in the delta would’ve taken too long. I always avoid driving after dark. We arrived at our Xakanaxa camp on June 21st in the early afternoon. Not wanting to waste time, we booked a boat ride on the Okavango Delta, leaving at 4:00 PM for a 2-hour sunset cruise. For those interested, to the right of the Xakanaxa X1 site, there’s a sign for boat rides. The organizer is very professional and offers prices that are nothing like those of the lodges. It was a beautiful ride through the delta with a stunning sunset. Being on a boat is much more relaxing than driving on the dirt roads. That didn’t stop us from doing self-drive safaris the next morning and late afternoon, though.

Then came the time to leave the delta and head toward Savuti, a much drier region. And that’s when the toughest part of our trip began. First, we decided to go up via Khwai. The rainy season was over, but the area was still marshy. We had to cross a few small water patches, testing the depth to make sure we could get through. Luckily, a sign on the road pointed us toward a drier route. We reached Khwai without any issues, but then we made a major mistake. Instead of taking the main track toward Mababe Gate to reach Savuti Camp, we took a straight path north and then a right turn to get to our camp. Bad call—we got stuck in the sand, with one rear wheel buried halfway and a front wheel off the ground. We were genuinely scared we wouldn’t get out, especially since we were on a deserted track, 20 kilometers from our destination, with night falling in two hours. This is where paying attention to the vehicle instructions really paid off—we had to use the jack to get out of the mess. The result: we arrived at Savuti campsite just before dark (Distance: 146.3 km, Duration: 9 hours, 56 minutes, and 3 seconds, Average speed: 14.7 km/h, tracked with Osmand). At reception, the staff couldn’t understand how we’d gotten there—we hadn’t passed through any of Savuti’s reserve entry gates.

The next morning, no one felt like driving, so we did a game drive with a guide. I don’t know if it was some kind of reward, but the outing was amazing. We saw three lions and, best of all, a pack of African wild dogs that we had time to admire and photograph. The next day, we did a short self-drive and found one of the lions from the day before drinking at a waterhole. That was the end of our Savuti adventure.

Now we’re heading to Kasane. We returned our vehicle and settled in for our last two nights there. The next morning, since we no longer had a car, we decided to do one last early-morning game drive in Chobe NP. It turned out great—we followed two brother lions and saw plenty of other mammals. The only downside of Chobe is the number of tourists, which was a change from the other parks we’d visited. That said, we’re tourists too, so... In the evening, we took one last boat ride on the Chobe River to end on a high note with a beautiful sunset.

After a good night’s sleep and plenty of wonderful memories, landscapes, animals, and emotions, it was time to leave. We left early in the morning with the same taxi company as before to cross the border into Zimbabwe one last time and head to the airport, where we took off to return to France.

I’m just starting to plan our trip for late August 2026, but I’ve read multiple times that campsite bookings need to be made *way* in advance if we want to secure a spot—especially in the parks. Before I get too far into my road book, I’d love to get a sense of what “way in advance” actually means.

That leads to another question: what’s the best *channel* for making these reservations? Can I find a list of campsites online?

From what I’ve gathered, there aren’t any fenced campsites—is wild camping allowed?

I’ll admit, I’m short on time, and reading a few threads here has shown me how quick and helpful the experts are 😉.

We’re a group of 4 and plan to rent a 4x4. Rooftop tents seem like the better option given the wildlife (and, well, *people* roaming freely), especially compared to Namibia (which we visited in 2018).

Thanks in advance to everyone!

My partner and I are planning a 21-day self-drive trip from Victoria Falls to Cape Town, flying from Montreal to Victoria Falls and renting a 4x4. I’d love to hear members’ thoughts on our itinerary and its feasibility, along with your recommendations for must-see spots, essential parks, lodges, etc.

Our ideal is to start our stay at the falls and head south to South Africa, finishing in Cape Town by the sea for two days of relaxation before returning to Canada. We’re big on photography, not so much on cities, and we usually book accommodations where we can prepare our own dinner. Is this itinerary too ambitious? I’ve read a lot of travel journals and sometimes it seems very doable, other times completely the opposite...

Proposed itinerary: 17 October: Montreal-Livingstone, Zambia (Z) 18-19 Oct.: Victoria Falls, Z 20 Oct.: Kasane, Botswana (BO) 21-22 Oct.: Chobe Park, BO 23 Oct.: Francistown, BO 24 Oct.: Khama Rhino Sanctuary, BO 25 Oct.: Palapye, BO 26 Oct.: Polokwane, South Africa (SA) 27 Oct.: Phalaborwa, SA 28-29 Oct.: Kruger Park, SA 30 Oct.: Malelane Gate, SA 31 Oct.: Winburg, SA 1 November: Bloemfontein, SA 2 November: Beaufort West, SA 3-5 November: Cape Town, SA

Saturday, September 22, 2018 This morning, we woke up at dawn at 6:00 AM. Headed to Letlhakeng, the last town where we could fill up on fuel before starting our crossing of the Kalahari. Our consumption since Johannesburg has been 11L/100 km. We took the direction of Khutse Game Reserve, whose entrance is about a hundred kilometers north of Letlhakeng. Access is via a gravel road along which we saw magnificent pink trees.









At Khutse Gate, we registered in the entry log and paid the access fees for 6 days: 120 Pulas/day/person and 50 Pulas/day/vehicle. Our stays at the Xaka and Deception Valley campsites had been reserved by our tour operator but not paid, contrary to what they’d told us. So we settled the 2 unpaid days of camping at 30 Pulas/day/person. The park rangers informed us that the southern triangle of Khutse Game Reserve, with its tip at Moreswe Pan, had burned. Note that these two campsites are government-run, which explains the low prices. Private campsites cost ten to fifteen times more. We headed to Khutse campsite, site 5. To enter the parks, you must have a reservation either at a lodge or a campsite. Since the number of spots in the campsites is limited, this means you have to book well in advance. We ate the salad we’d prepared the night before at our campsite. It was very hot—39°C. We made a round trip to Khankhe Pan. On the track, we encountered three South African cars, one of which was stuck in the sand and blocking the way. We helped push the car to get it unstuck. We saw very few animals at Khankhe Pan. We returned to the campsite, which has dry toilets and a shower you have to supply with your own water. We tried out the shower.











We witnessed our first Kalahari sunset. These sunsets are unmatched, and that didn’t change throughout the trip.



During the trip, we followed the solar rhythm—waking up at 6:00 AM, having dinner at sunset around 6:30 PM, and retiring to our tents by 8:30 PM.

Sunday, September 23, 2018 Up at 6:00 AM. It was 15°C. We were cold last night. Tonight, we’ll use blankets in addition to our sleeping bags. We headed southwest and, past Gwian Pan, turned northwest toward the Molose waterhole, where we saw our first elephants and our first raptor. Indeed, on the track leading to the Molose waterhole, we could see the traces of the massive fire that had ravaged the southern part of Khutse, as the park rangers had warned us.





Our first braai at Khankhe campsite.

Hi there, I’m looking for organizations that specialize in walking safaris, but not at the price points I’m seeing online. I’m after a truly immersive experience in the wild, with the option to sleep in very basic tents and help prepare meals... Ideal duration: 7 to 10 days. I’d rather avoid the super touristy destinations (Kenya, Tanzania, etc.). Thanks for any tips you can share! !