Our Best and Worst Day on Safari!

Posted by

Kimberly Thornton

April 10, 2025

When people say travel is full of highs and lows, they’re talking about days like this.

We were nearly six weeks into our self-drive safari through Southern Africa and were travelling through Botswana. Up until this point, we had only experienced a few minor hiccups. But the day we left Savuti in Chobe National Park for Khwai in Moremi Game Reserve turned into an eleven-hour rollercoaster of emotion, adventure, and survival.

A Promising Start

The day before our big adventure, an unexpected mishap led to an unforgettable evening at our campsite. While cooking over the fire pit, Derek burned himself. His scream sent a nearby camper rushing over to check on us. Thankfully, the burn was minor, and as we patched him up, we struck up a conversation with the friendly travellers from the next site—two guys from Zambia—swapping safari stories.

That’s when they told us about a recent encounter with a pride of lions that had taken down an elephant en route to Moremi Game Reserve. Our next stop! They suggested we skip the Main Road and take the Marsh Road out of Chobe instead—smoother driving, better game viewing, and, if we were lucky, a chance to see the pride still guarding their kill.

It seemed like a no-brainer.

The sun was high and the sky clear as we rolled through golden grasslands on a dirt track, completely alone. Not a single truck in sight. Peaceful. Magical.

We came across a large family of elephants, at least twenty strong, with several young juveniles. The boys were thrilled, and Derek and I were equally awestruck. Watching the herd interact felt like a wildlife documentary. Protective males stood tall, eyes scanning between bites of crunchy leaves. Graceful females grazed nearby, always aware of the little ones’ antics. The juveniles wrestled, their trunks tangling in playful chaos. It was wild Africa at its best.

And Just Like That, the Mood Shifted…

Knowing we had a long day of driving, we reluctantly pulled away. Just then, we saw two elephants standing ahead, blocking the road. A female with three juveniles on one side, separated from the herd, and a massive male on the other. As we neared, both widened their ears and locked eyes with us. It was a clear warning: Do not come closer.

We waited, engine off, watching and hoping. Eventually, the young ones crossed to the male, and we assumed we were clear. But as we inched forward, the female grew more agitated—head swaying, ears flapping, and the large bull remained steadfast and stared. We slowed to a halt, holding our breath and hoping the elephants would not charge. Then, we finally understood. From beneath the grass, a tiny elephant, no more than a few weeks old, rose to nurse. The mother was protecting her newborn.

It was humbling. Beautiful. And intense. The entire encounter had lasted 40 minutes but left us breathless and buzzing.

The Lion Kill

Following our new Zambian friends’ directions, we found a remote turnoff. Determined to find the pride of lions, we drove in and out of unmarked trails, searching for the kill. In the end, it was the vultures that led the way.

We followed the sinister birds deep into the brush. The smell hit us first. Rotting flesh snuck in through the vents, and the thick bush closed in as we followed a narrowing trail. And then—there it was. A hollowed-out elephant carcass, partially hidden in the trees.

A young male lion rested beside it, panting and heavy with meat. The rest of the pride was nowhere to be seen, but this solitary guardian stayed put. He reminded us of ourselves post-Christmas dinner—stuffed, drowsy, and unwilling to move.

Getting there was a thrill. Leaving was the nightmare.

The path we’d taken had grown too tight to turn around. Branches scraped and clawed at the sides of the vehicle as we tried to inch our way out. There were a few tense moments when we truly worried we wouldn’t be able to escape—and the lion, still watching from nearby, made it clear that getting out to direct the vehicle wasn’t an option. After 30 painstaking minutes of maneuvering, we finally made it out—our rental now sporting deep scratches and a sizable dent. Lesson learned.

More Surprises in Store

You’d think the drama would end there. It didn’t…

Not long after, a leopard crossed directly in front of our truck. We all gasped. A small female, elegant and unfazed, strolled casually into the tall grass. We followed slowly, snapping a few incredible photos before she vanished. It was surreal— We could not believe our good fortune.

The Low

Only 15 minutes from our campsite, the dry, dusty roads transformed into a marsh-like trail. The GPS pointed us through increasingly muddy tracks, and we cautiously navigated puddles—until we hit the puddle and were swallowed by swampy sludge.

Panic. With half the truck covered, we navigated through the uneven ground. The vehicle rocked side to side. Tires spun. Somehow, Derek got us out, but it was clear we couldn’t go forward. For over an hour, we tried every alternate route the GPS offered. Each one ended in thick bush, confusion, or vanished off the screen entirely.

Daylight was fading and we were running out of ideas.

We considered setting up camp beside the road, but worried it would attract unwanted attention. A nearby bush campsite seemed promising—until a car full of drunk young men arrived shortly after us. Not the rescue party we’d hoped for.

We returned to the main road in search of alternative lodging. The GPS was sporadic, and our satellite phone refused to connect. Finally, my sister (who had joined us for this leg) found a lodge that could be reached from the highway.

We were exhausted, and it was pitch black. With our high beams on, we navigated through the pothole-filled road toward what we hoped would be our salvation. The kids were quiet in the back—Mason fidgeted nervously, Jackson calming himself with deep breathing. Every bump was gut-wrenching.

Eventually, the GPS directed onto a trail. We combed through the darkness for any sign of a campground. Then, just as hope began to fade—lights! We followed the road toward it, only to be stopped yet again—this time by a fallen tree blocking the path. So close, yet not quite there.

Derek carefully backed up the truck and searched in the dark for any trail that might lead us around the obstacle. Somehow—don’t ask me how—we found a narrow path that wound its way through the bush and brought us to the gates of Khwai Expedition Camp, a stunning luxury lodge nestled deep in the wilderness. The staff were incredibly kind. They called our actual campsite, SLK Campground, and arranged for someone to meet us and guide us the final kilometre.

We never would’ve found it alone.

Just When We Thought it was Over…

We finally made it to camp—frazzled, starving, and beyond tired. The guide warned us about lions that roam the grounds at night. So, with the boys safely tucked away in the truck eating cereal, Derek and I worked quickly to set up camp, eyes scanning the bush. And just as we crawled into bed, a blood-curdling scream rang out from my sister’s tent.

A massive spider had taken residence on her pillow.

Derek, armed with kitchen tongs and a bucket, dealt with it heroically. Only then did we finally collapse into sleep, knowing we had survived our wildest day yet.

What This Day Taught Us

Travel—real travel—isn’t always pretty. Sometimes it’s gritty and tense and tests your limits. But it’s also deeply rewarding.

If you travel enough, you are bound to have days like this, full of high highs and low lows. But the experience and memories are worth it. We had no idea what lay ahead of us when we left camp that day, but we stuck together, persevered, and not only did we survive, but we thrived as a family.

It was the Best and Worst Day of Our Safari—and one we’ll never, ever forget.

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