The Elephant roadblock: Chobe Safari

On a dry sandy road on the banks of the Chobe River, the elephants set up a road block.

A massive bull backed up against a dry, grey tree, draped his trunk over the back of the mature female backed up against him and firmly nudging her trunk. Leaning against her was a smaller female gently sheltering a baby between her knees. Behind them, a cluster of ears, trunks and legs showed there were several other adults in this mass of tough, wrinkled grey hide and swaying body parts stretching right across the loose sand road merely meters ahead.

And in the bone dry forest around us, in clusters and alone, were more than two dozen other elephants, eyeing us warily, flapping their enormous ears and sniffing the air with their trunks.
Sure I was nervous. We had just driven the Land Rover right into the middle of this herd. These were not the domesticated work elephants I rode on trek in Thailand, these were wild African elephants, easily able to overturn our truck with a single swing of their long, pitted tusks. Was I imagining, or were they agitated?

Presley, our experienced driver and guide, had warned us to stay still, stay quiet. As long as we looked like one solid object to the elephants’ poor eyesight, we were safe, but if we looked like a collection of vulnerable individual animals … he didn’t finish the sentence.

And then, a large female, one of her tusks turned sideways in some unfortunate incident, trotted out of a cluster of trees, heading straight for us. Forgetting Presley’s advice, I let out a gasp and leaned in; further into the open Land Rover. She passed, mere inches from me. She neither broke stride nor looked at me and in a second, was gone.

That’s when Presley decided to break the road block. He gunned the motor, and took a run at the female on the left. She raised her head, flapped her ears and took a step back. Then two steps towards us, swinging her head. The tight cluster of elephants on the right seemed to shift, opening up space, and as we watched, the sheltered baby, no more than 4 feet high, ran through the corridor of legs and into the bushes.

Presley backed up. This seemed to relieve some of the pressure. A few of the mature elephants followed the baby into the bush. But the one with the shaking head, and the massive bull remained, facing us, still blocking the road. Presley gunned his motor again, and 4 wheels spinning in the sand, started to move slowly towards the bull. Towards his hind quarters. The female seemed to rear slightly, then backed, shook her head one more time and turned into the bush. Presley didn’t let up – continuing to head towards the bull. And then, with what might have been a derisive toss of his trunk, he too turned and trotted off into the forest.

The road was clear. It had taken only a few moments, but the images will forever be burned into my memory.

This challenge, this close contact been vulnerable humans and the migrating wildlife, is what makes Chobe National Park in Northern Botswana so special. The Park sits on the banks of one of the main tributaries of the mighty Zambezi River, and contains one of the most concentrated collections of African wildlife in southern Africa – drawn to the meandering river and broad, green floodplain, particularly during the dry season.

Over the course of two game drives and a river expedition, we watched a lone male giraffe strip new leaves off the tops of a tree a few feet off of the track, looked into the gaping mouth of a Nile Crocodile as it sat on the bank cooling itself in the breeze, felt the surge as huge Hippopotamuses, moments earlier grazing peaceably on the riverbank slipped clumsily into the river and submerged. We slowed as a family of Warthogs ran single file across the road in front of us with their tails held high in a ‘follow me’ signal and paused to watch hundreds of Zebras trot across the open grasslands, and three Black Backed Jackals cross an opening in the woods in single file.

And the African (Cape) Buffalo, like a big cow in a funny headdress, but really one of ‘Big Five’ because of its short temper and sharp horns, sar in the shade of a tree watching us. Or the metre long Water Monitor, looking for croc’s eggs with a darting tongue.

All around us, so numerous that they became common, were herds of Impalas, Waterbucks, Kudus, Red Lechwes, Steenboks, and the very rare Roan and Puku antelopes.

And the birds: the magnificent African Fish Eagle, coppery Carmine Bee Eater, Red Billed Hornbill (flying chilli pepper), the turquoise Lilac Breasted Roller, the Go Away Bird, and the Red Billed Francolin, the hovering Pied Kingfisher, the tall Saddle Billed Stork, the ‘pinging’ Blacksmith Lapwing, the really stupid looking Helmeted Guinea Fowl, the African Harrier Hawk, Hooded Vulture and Mariboo stork. And the list goes on. All names are my interpretation of Presley’s beautiful accent.

Our base for this intriguing expedition is the beautifully situated Muchenje Lodge, a row of wooden cabins with steep thatched roofs arrayed in a line along the crest of the valley ridge. From the front porch of each cabin, guests enjoy an almost endless vista over the broad Chobe floodplain. The staff join guests for communal meals where the days sightings are compared, questions are answered, and informal political discussions are sparked – like the one we had about the potential impact on South Africa of Nelson Mandela’s eventual passing, or on Zimbabwe of Robert Mugabe’s eventual “end”. Our fellow guests were Belgians, Australians and Americans and every day, a new cast of characters arrive.

Chobe is one of Africa’s lesser-known parks, lacking the accessibility of Kruger, or the popularity of Serengeti. But the concentration of wildlife, and the ability to drive for 5 hours and not see another tourist, makes this a secret worth keeping.