Francistown, March 2022

We are skipping through Botswana in March heading for Namibia. It is still very much the rainy season and we are still newbies. Not experienced enough to take on all of the intense black cotton soil mud track driving, flooded river crossings or general swampiness required to truly get the best experience of the wilder parts of Botswana. A dream journey would be from the Chobe flood plains through the Savuti, Linyanti and Moremi National Park areas or vice-versa. We decide to shelve that ambition for later, maybe for when we head up to East Africa.

Instead, we decide on an easy trip up to the Shakawe border crossing from Francistown. This will take us into Namibia near the western side of the Caprivi Strip. This will give us a chance to spend more time in Namibia but still see some of Botswana including the Okavango Delta on the way.

One of the main reasons travellers often give for avoiding the rainy seasons and preferring the ‘dry’ is that there is more game (animals) to see. Which is true, and it is better because you absolutely do see more because there is less vegetation getting in the way… and there are fewer mosquitoes… but there is something to be said for traveling near the end of the rainy season in Africa. In the watershed season you appreciate the changing lands as you move slowly through them. Each area is unique with an expanse of flowers, a flowing river, a lily marsh or ocean of waving grass. The landscape crowned by dramatic skies filled with towering storm clouds darkening by the minute. In the dry season each expanse of savannah looks a bit like every other. The life and vitality of the savanna and mountains in the watershed season make way for survival and endurance in the dry. 

In retrospect, half-way through the journey, we don’t feel like we’ve missed anything of significance on our travels when travelling in wet months. We saw many of the Big 5 in most of the places we visited. We did however ‘do the work’, going on a game drive nearly every sunrise and afternoon. We were out of camp more than in camp.

Our first stop in Botswana is Francistown, second largest city in Botswana. A brief stop to pick up some supplies either too expensive to buy in Zimbabwe or illegal to import into Botswana. We like the Galo Mall on the corner of the A1 and Guy street. It’s the best area to stock up on most needs. It has a Pick n Pay grocery store, fuel station, Clicks, Dischem pharmacy, a camping shop, clothing outlets and some fast-food options including, most importantly, Steers! 

My vice and serious addiction is Steers burgers whenever I find myself in southern African cities in between adventures. The burgers are freshly prepared, steaming with real cooking but are not wet on the base of the bun… ah man! Why? The burgers hold together and by mixing Steers bbq sauce with thousand island sauce you discover the fifth missing condiment that brings life together. A decent amount of chips with a spicy salt make it a meal you can live on for a day. Have I mentioned I have an addiction?

A quick explanation of chips. These are deep fried rectangular strips of potato. I believe in other parts of the world they are called frites, finger chips, pommes frites and so on. In southern Africa there is also a well-known difference in naming conventions between fries (thin chips), chips (regular crispy chips) and slap chips (regular chips but very limp and slightly soggy). A good bag of slap chips sprinkled with salt and vinegar or bathed in tomato sauce is every southern African’s kryptonite. A bit like a good kimchi for a Korean person, a fresh baguette and brie for a French person or pho for a Vietnamese person… but better. Fun fact: in the USA these protected chips items are still legally known as fresh vegetables and not processed foods (Fleming Companies, Inc. v. U.S. Department of Agriculture).

So off we go. We have about 130 litres of diesel brimming in the fuel tanks below and we are ready for some sights and adventure in Botswana.  

Our overnight stop is not too far down the road at a place called Woodlands Stop Over & Lodge. A strange but awesome little discovery which surprises with its seclusion and history. A slightly pot-holed dirt track leads off of the main tarred road about fifteen kilometers outside of Francistown. After about twenty minutes of driving through the ubiquitous Botswana scrub land of mopani and acacia we arrive at our camp for the night. 

The major ‘claim to fame’ of the stop over is that it is on the old Hunter’s Road. A historic route which used to lead adventurers, hunters, money-makers, artists and more up through the dry lands to the awe-inspiring sight of the mighty Victoria Falls. Historic Botswanan names like Nata and Pantamatenga are further up the road beckoning alongside the Hwange National Park on the Zimbabwean side.

We have pre-ordered a large meat pack from the lodge. They also sell pre-prepared ready meals such as lasagne and curries and have a decent amount of basic goods on sale such as toiletries, beer, wine and bread.

As we arrive one of the heaviest rain storms I have ever been in opens up over us. The lightning is severe and frequent with large booms of peeling thunder through the deluge of rain. The plan is to camp but after thirty minutes of waiting we realise that this is set in for the night. We head back to reception and asked for the cheapest solid structure they have. This turns out to be the river-side chalet with a double bed, en-suite and kitchenette for a reasonable price which we gratefully accept. I note the dry river bed before darkness falls. A few beers follow on the veranda while listening to the rain falling heavily on the surrounding bushland.

The next morning, after looking at the weather report, we realise that we have a window of about six hours before the rains are going to come down again heavily over the next night and evening. My traveling companion, deep in puffy duvet and pillows, is of the opinion that we should stay put one more night. I’m not certain that we should stretch the budget to another night of comfort for little reason. I want to be ‘somewhere’ rather than settled in the ‘stop-over’, as nice as it is. I would be happy to stay here after adventuring but not before. So we, some more begrudgingly, pack up and organise everything into the Hilux as quickly as we can. 

We are both amazed at the sight on walking out of the chalet; the dry river bank from the night before is now flooded with a strangely silent torrent of rain water from bank to bank. We make a quick note to never camp in a dry river bed. We’re back on the road and heading north before the next deluge.