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Since we’d taken the decision to skip places like Fish River Canyon in Namibia and much of South Africa’s Garden Route, we were four days ahead of schedule. For the first time, we were endowed with the luxury of time. But rather than fester in Gaborone, we decided to cross the Zambian border via the Okavango Delta. While this was the slower, more scenic route, it would mean that we could enjoy our first game drive of the trip and still progress northwards.

Maun, the nearest town to the Delta, is reminiscent of a frontier town where traders and travellers brush shoulders, hawking and buying supplies for various ventures into the Delta. After fitful night’s sleep at the disappointment that was the Audi Lodge (we’ve since been told the Old Bridge Backpackers would’ve been a far better option), we headed into Maun to stock up on food, fuel, and entry permits to the national parks.

The latter task proved to be much more difficult than it should have been, thanks in large to an obtuse lady behind the desk of the Department of Wildlife and National Parks. After telling us that all the park campsites were full (we found this slightly hard to believe since the park is about a quarter of the size of the UK), she reluctantly relented, telling us that we could probably park at Mauwee, the southern gateway to the Moremi National Park, but she could not guarantee a place to stay in Chobe National Park the next day. Since we had to pass through Chobe to reach the border, we decided to chance it and paid for entry and a night’s camping at Moremi, and permits for two days in Chobe. If we could find a campsite, we could relax for another day. If we couldn’t, we’d have to power on to Kasane (the first stop beyond the borders of the National Park) and waste our second P120 day permit.

Four hours, three permits, and two full jerry cans later, we found ourselves skidding along sandy tracks deep into the Delta. After an hour and a half of driving, we’d only managed to catch a glimpse of an apathetic, half-submerged Hippo, a few distant giraffes and a shy zebra. This perhaps would have been more exciting if we’d spotted them in a more classical game park setting – like the ones you see on telly: blue skies, golden brush and a backdrop of dark-blue mountains. Furthermore, we assumed the Delta would be lush and waterlogged, but instead it was dry, grey and decorated with gnarled trees – of which half had been decimated by careless elephants.

But despite all the tell-tale signs of elephants (broken things and big poos) we hadn’t seen any. Since the day was petering out, we headed back to camp, nursing our disappointment in silence and hopeful window gazing.

The next bit is hard to describe, but I’ll have a go any way, if only to remind myself just how incredible the sight of around 150 elephants was. It started with a huge bull emerging from the bush to our left. This was exciting enough in itself, but then came another. And another. And another... Before we realised what was happening, a wall of grey was lumbering silently across our path (the more feisty stopping to warn us away with raised trunks) for what must have been 20 minutes.
Not bad for a day out in the park.

That evening, our sighting was celebrated with sirloin steak, roasted sweet potatoes and green salad – all prepared in the face of adversity after Giles burned his hand in the campfire. His pain was short lived thanks to the remaining Shiraz Cabernet Sauvignon. Though the food, wine and company were excellent, the evening was made all the more memorable by our uninvited dinner guest.

Having grown used to Botswana’s feral dogs, at first I thought nothing of the yellow eyes that flashed at me from across the camp fire. Then I realised that we were in fact camping in a game park. A game park in Africa. After sizing us up (we’d all seen him by now), the hyena padded off into the wood.

It turned out that hyenas had become campsite regulars, having cottoned onto how humanoids have a habit of leaving edible treats in their wake. Still, we weren’t taking any chances – we’d all seen the Lion King – and scurried into our tents sharpish.