FOOTSTEPS
CAMP |
By
Julie Dennis
Reservations
Date of Visit:
October 2004 |
My next stop was Footsteps – the adventure
had started – this small tented camp sleeping
only six brought back memories of camping as a
child. Outside toilet and shower, proper tents
with ground sheets. This was bush camping. My
tent faced again the reeds, this time things were
definitely lurking in the reeds, as I discovered
at night. No electricity, no flush toilets, no
light switches let alone a power plug, I knew
I was in Africa.
What would dinner bring, baked beans not on your
life, a full course dinner served to standard
as you would get at any lodge – how did
they do this – I had to investigate –
it was all done on an open fire with candles for
lighting. The chef had been with Footsteps for
many years and had mastered the art of cooking
that would put Jamie Oliver to shame. Carrot cake,
chocolate mousse, steak vegetables fresh bread
and muffins, all cooked here. The kitchen was
immaculate and organized they even had freezer
which had its own generator, so we had ice with
our gin and tonic. We were spoilt – of course.
Night time for me was full of decisions and planning.
Those things in the reeds, sloshed and snorted
and moved around it sounded so close, the bark
of baboons what were they barking at and the elephant
that must have been under my bed, made the loudest
noise ever what was going on, I certainly wasn’t
going to investigate. I woke in the morning to
sound of vibrating flapping loud enough to wake
me. My neighbour in the next time shouting for
me to get out of bed and come outside –
I flopped onto the floor and looked out of my
tent, 3 million Quelea birds had taken flight
and were swaying and maneuvering right above us.
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Words failed to describe how I felt, what a start to
the morning what a memory and story to tell my little
daughter when I get home. Breakfast was as you would expect
perfect, full English or continental or both endless tea
and coffee and plenty of time to savour your surroundings.
Nothing is rushed in Botswana I had learnt and still the
days were occupied and full. A mokoro ride just me and
my poler, I felt so important and lazy too.
We gently pushed the water lilies out of the way as we
glided the water; the poler was in no hurry. Time to fish,
hadn’t done that before and as I flung my line into
water expecting everything to grab it I was disappointed
when I had to reel in again and start all over. This I
did many times until finally I did catch a whopper it
was a six inch pike wriggling and looking most angry at
me. Now what – I wasn’t putting my hand or
fingers in its mouth to relief it of the hook, my poler
knew exactly how I felt and like all gentlemen offered
to do the yucky bits for me. I just sat there flinging
my line and reeling it in, no other catch for me that
day. On our way back my poler made me a beautiful necklace
of water lilies and gave it to me as a present, at first
I thought he must be proposing marriage it was so romantic
and perfect.
Read more of Julie's visit to these camps:
Camp Okuti | Shinde
Island | Footsteps
| Kanana
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