10 days, three lodges, three countries and nature’s wonders

“Chilwero” means “view point” in the local Subia language, referring to the Chobe River that glimmers beyond. Guests can enjoy the outlook from one of 15 suites or the communal verandah that doubles as an elegant indoor-outdoor dining area. Tasteful, too, is my spacious studio with muted decor and a polished concrete floor. But it’s not all relaxation.

A&K’s wildlife drives are exemplary; the park is renowned for its elephant population. Bobby, our tenacious guide, has other ideas. He’s determined to find a lion that was spotted earlier. We jump aboard the 4WD (A&K’s have padded armrests, especially for camera and binocular use) and whip around the sandy roads. Bingo! He spots her: a female lion, licking her jowls, having just demolished a kudu, whose carcass lies under a nearby bush. We move on; others are waiting their turn.

It’s time for sundowners on the Chobe River banks. Nature performs – a brilliant red line streaks across the water. We raise our G&Ts. “Pula!” Bobby says. “Cheers!” (“Pula”, Bobby explains, is also a hopeful toast meaning “let there be rain” and Botswana’s currency).

Drinks the following evening are aboard a double-decker cruiser. Juggling binoculars and cocktails, we survey a fish eagle, perched high on a bare branch, gripping a still-flapping reed cormorant. Elsewhere, an elephant plods out of the water and rubs against an African ivory tree. Hippos bob like giant brown buoys. The best is yet to come.

For my final leg, I fly via Windhoek, Namibia’s capital, to Okahirongo Elephant Lodge that’s located on the Purros Conservancy, a remote 3550-plus square kilometre desert wilderness in Kunene (formerly Kaokoland), a region of north-west Namibia. The desert below – a landscape of mountains, valleys and craters – is as alien as I’ve ever encountered. No signs of humans exist. Across the never-ending sepia-hued expanse spread veins of black contoured lines. These are plants, leeching any moisture they can find; the country is in its sixth year of drought.

On landing, the plane shudders across the sand-and-pebble strip. We transfer to a 4WD and head to the lodge, a half-hour journey.

The dusty terrain stretches before us, flat and endless. Eventually, low hills come into view, providing a welcome spatial perspective, and we turn towards them. Three ostriches appear running jerkily, their feather “skirts” springing up and down. Elsewhere, a giraffe freezes, like a leggy supermodel posing for a photo.

We spot the line of neat, white geometric blocks on the ridge before we realise it’s our home for the next three nights: Okahirongo Elephant Lodge. Resembling an architectural model set on futuristic Mars, a series of whitewashed modules extend in a line, directly overlooking the otherworldly semi-desert. The 4WD revs over the crest and proceeds along the rim. It stops near the entrance, an egg-shaped building, a nod to a traditional hut built by the Himba people, the semi-nomadic pastoralists of the region.

The modules are, in fact, eight spacious suites plus a complex of communal spaces connected by decking that surrounds an infinity pool. The rooms and spaces are delightful, though there’s not much time to lounge.

Each day, we explore our surroundings, both in the 4WD and on foot, with Karitjangua, a local OmuHimba and a gentle, wise guide. At the Elephant Coast Viewpoint we watch the fog creep inland through the hills, like dry ice. We wander through the Clay Castles, a series of undulations and eroded peaks. We spot oryx, springbok and Hartmann’s mountain zebras.

Along the way, Karitjangua imparts his knowledge: an elephants’ obsession with the plant chemiflora. How ostriches arrange their eggs by size. He points out helmeted guinea fowl and hornbills. (The region’s brown hyena and 15 known desert lions, tracked by Tosco, a conservation organisation, elude us.)

One evening, he serves sundowners on a basalt outcrop of a table-top mountain overlooking the dry valley below. We’re bathed in a bright orange glow. To our delight, the region’s only bull elephant emerges through a cluster of palms and ana trees. Incredibly, the plants here eke out enough water to survive. The drought is detrimental, not least for the locals, as we learn when visiting a traditional Himba village, eight kilometres from the lodge.

The village comprises several huts surrounded by a corral; the chief is away, we’re told, though four females and two males are still living here. Zahavara, a village matriarch, explains the impact of lack of water on her community and their semi-nomadic lifestyles. Karitjangua, a son from this village it transpires, translates.

“We’ve lost our livestock (goats). It’s reduced the local people’s movement. We’re now sitting in one place,” she says.

When it comes, it comes as a shock: water. Or rather the sound of it sloshing under our tyres. The 4WD has entered a section of the Hoarusib River Valley where the bed is a mere trickle, but water nonetheless. A mass of reeds, wild tobacco and wild tamarisk trees fill the valley. Several pastoralists sit among the grasses, patiently observing their 20 or so head of cattle, their precious assets. We exchange waves.

It’s late afternoon; we exit the valley and re-enter the flat, dry desert that’s by now an umbral shade. Three giraffes (dust erupts as they flee from the approaching vehicle) provide another point of reference to the limitless depth of field.

And here I am, on my final evening, turning my head skyward. To eternity. The breadth of starry coverage is astounding.

The surrounding silence gives me space to reflect on this intergalactic journey.

THE DETAILS

Stay

A 10-day, tailor-made Abercrombie & Kent itinerary including stays at Sussi & Chuma Lodge (Zambia), Chobe Chilwero Lodge (Botswana) and Elephant Lodge (Namibia) costs from $17,680 a person. See abercrombiekent.com.au

More

zambiatourism.com

botswanatourism.co.bw

visitnamibia.com.na

The writer was a guest of Abercrombie & Kent.