Flying in, I look below and see the expanse of brushlands unfolding across the horizon. Just minutes out of Maun, Botswana, there's no settlement in sight. This is one of the most scantly populated countries on Earth, and it's cathartic to be on the edge of civilization.

In America, life is chaotic. Politics, culture wars, and the seemingly unending stream of distracting and destructive quarrels from various factions in our country is, at the least, exhausting. This trip is a needed distraction.

This foray into the African wilderness has been in the works for months. In a way, it's surreal to be here. Getting to this indistinctive speck on the globe is an adventure all on its own: a long flight across the Atlantic to Johannesburg, South Africa, change planes and then a short flight to Botswana, change planes again, and a quick jaunt to an unknown dirt airstrip first, and then over to the Motswiri airstrip. But we made it.

From the air, this country looks deceptively sparse and lean and the vast Okavango Delta fans out as far as I can see. The landscape is a hodgepodge of wetlands and drylands. A few burn scars dot the desert grasslands and stand testament to when (not so long ago) hot flames licked the grasslands bare of vegetation; ultimately burning to the margins of the prairies where they're snuffed by the moist edges of the Okavango. Seas of grasslands are interspersed with tree mottes in an imperfectly perfect patchwork of edge habitat. And the glue that holds it all together? Water.

Water brings life. The Mbukushu word for water is meyu and the local people sing songs to encourage the rains to fall. While in the dry season and rainfall is extant, the country parches and becomes spare. When the rains fall, however, water flows from the north through the Okavango River until hitting the flatlands of the delta. Here, it spreads in all directions like a cup of spilled milk on a kitchen floor. A slight depression in the Earth here and a shallow spot there fills with life's essence and ultimately covers the largest inland delta in the world. Unlike most river deltas, the Okavango doesn't run into another body of water. Instead, it either evaporates into the air or soaks into the ground.

The Okavango Delta is legendary. As the plane descends so we may head out on our first safari, I can't help but think that the country I see before me is what the Earth once looked like before developers, subdivisions, and concreted strip malls became a thing.

When we disembarked from our plane, we quickly shuttle to the awaiting Land Cruisers. A pair of guides escort us to camp. When we round the corner to camp, we are met with a chorus of beautiful voices singing a song of welcome and hospitality. Although I'm 11,000 miles from where I lay my head at night, I feel at home.

We unpack and quickly head back into the brush. It doesn't take long, and we stop to photograph a beautiful red-billed hornbill. From there, we descend deeper into the brush seeing an immense German stork, a herd of zebras, and tsessebe - a type of antelope that's the fastest runner on the continent. Because a day of air travel carved out a bunch of our time, the first evening's safari is short. However, a hearty meal and good conversation await us back in camp. It's not long before bedtime is nigh, and drifting off to sleep in my camp, the sounds of the delta come alive.

I drift off into an evening's slumber to the sound of frogs chirping in the night. Their calls (although monotonal and monotonous) are a lullaby of sorts. The frogs sing me to sleep as I lie under the dark African sky filled with stars and constellations. The sky is foreign to the one I see in the Northern Hemisphere. In the distance, I hear what I suspect to be Cape Buffalo stirring about in the darkness and across the wetland that flanks my tent, an owl hoots his midnight song.

The frogs sing me to sleep back home as well. Frogs chirp their way through the night just a few yards from my house - in one of the three wetlands on Hackberry Farm. The amphibians outside my tent remind me of where I am, and from whence I come. The sounds of the night are intoxicating.

Waking up predawn, I look to the west and see Venus aligned ever so close to the moon. In the distance, hyenas hoot and grunt at one another in an unknown struggle cloaked by night. Across the horizon, elephants trumpet the day's first light. We cruise the brush in search of whatever game is willing to be photographed. I am amazed at all we see. I am even more enthralled by the thought of that which we don't see.

"How many more animals are back in the brush," I think to myself as we pass a herd of zebras. As we drive, birds flit, and countless animals watch us from the brush's edge. Soon we wind our way through the woods in search of more game when we descend a slight lean on a hill and see a wetland full of hippopotamuses. Curious, the hippos swim towards the bank where we've stopped to photograph them. I believe they are as interested to see us as we are in seeing them. As me and my party crouch in the grass to photograph them from as close to eye level as we can, the hippos jockey to get a better look at us. We all keep our distance, but the sight is delightful. So much so that we had breakfast alongside the river and were entertained by the hippos swimming just mere yards from our camp table.

As the last evening wore on, we searched the savanna until large tracks pointed us in the direction we needed. We see two male lions in the brush just about two hundred yards from where we spotted the tracks. They're alerted to us but not frightened. Therefore, they stay put as we approach. We photograph the pair of lions for fifteen minutes until the light wanes to the point that photography isn't possible.

All our time in the Okavango Delta was magical. The animals, the people, and the land treated us well.

The Chobe River

"See the elephants," says our guide with his Setswanan accent. "There's a big herd coming towards the river." He turns his skiff towards the giant mammals and eases his way towards the herd. At first, the animals flank the shore. Then the pachyderms walk into the water and wade across the river. For the giant elephants, the water is chests deep. The smaller ones latch onto an adult and are helped along through the placid current. You can tell by how the elephants react to the water that their wade is enjoyable. Soon they make their way onto an island wedged in the river between Botswana and Namibia. Once they hit the land, they walk into the tall grass and disappear from our view.

The Chobe River is a border river that flows along the Caprivi Strip that separates Botswana from Namibia. It's part of a larger and more complex river system that consists of swamps, natural lakes, and navigable rivers. Next to the Chobe River is Botswana's third largest national park, whose name comes from the river. Chobe National Park is a 4,500 square mile reserve home to one of Africa's largest herds of elephants and other large animals like giraffes, cape buffalos, and lions.

We cruise around the river's edge for two days in search of wildlife. Baboons abound, as do crocodiles. Birds are present as well. For starters, we see yellow-billed storks, kingfisher, jacanas, and fish eagles. The list of bird life is extensive.

Flying in, you can tell that the country is parched. North Botswana near Kasane gets about 25 inches of rain annually. The ribbon of water that runs through this country attracts all sorts of wildlife. As such, it creates a ribbon of green in an otherwise brown landscape. For two full days, we take to the boat to search for wildlife. Not one time was our search futile.

One evening we pull the boat up into a group of baboons. They are fascinating animals who live in social orders like humans. Looking around, there are all kinds of activities. Juvenile baboons are playing and wrestling in a way that mimics virtually every kid you've ever seen rough-housing. Females nurse and groom their babies in a caring fashion. The males stay on patrol, looking for other animals that might endanger the troop. The whole group lives harmoniously together, and their society and social structure have a beauty that belies their rough appearance. These primates seem to really care about each other.

Back at the Pangolin Lodge in Kasane, we set down to supper with photographers from all over the globe. This is a photographer's hotel. There's a ground blind just outside the rooms, and each room is equipped with a long desk with ample charging points. At one end of the lodge, there's an editing room complete with a large screen TV that serves as a computer monitor for those wishing to demonstrate post-processing techniques. Spending time with like-minded people here makes it easy to get caught up in the technology and art that defines modern photography. However, we are all here because of the abundant wildlife. As I drift off to sleep on my last night at the lodge, I cannot help to think of what I've already seen and what's to come.

Mashatu

Looking down in the scrub, I see a long, paved runway surrounded by the wild. It's the Limpopo Valley airstrip. Soon, the Cessna eases into a smooth landing and taxis to the straightforward, appropriately sized terminal. There we meet our guides Edward and Okay. Edward is our guide, and Okay is the tracker. We'll soon learn that these guys are local and know their stuff. For the next four days, they put us on a dizzying array of wildlife species I never thought possible.

Just a few hundred yards from the airfield, we stop and watch a pair of giraffes cross the road and then a pair of steenbok cross. In the plan of one minute, I see the tallest mammals I'd ever seen that were followed by a pair of antelope that is so diminutive that they look like they could be someone's pet.

This land here is unexpectedly hard and calloused. Heavy on shrubs but light on grass, bare dirt dominates the landscape in all directions. The land here is surprisingly full of relief, however. Undulating hills give way to gravel-lined draws. These draws open wider and cleave the brown Earth until they open into the gravel-heavy rivers. Devoid of water this time of year, the rivers are parched and lack significant water. June is the dry season in far eastern Botswana. The rains won't come until the winter. Then, a trickle turns into a torrent as swollen creeks feed the rivers. The water ultimately ribbons its way out of the countryside - carving away soil and upending yards of rock when it flows. The predictable ebb and flow of the water cycle make the hardscrabble bountiful. The rains come when the ungulates are heavy into gestation. The babies, born in the time of bounty, flourish on mother's milk enriched by the abundant grass and forbs that grow from sweet and precious raindrops.

The impala, giraffe, ostrich, and just about every other wildlife species are born in the spring in the southern hemisphere. The babies drop in huge numbers. With all of the prey species, the predators play an important ecological role that maintains the balance of the plains. An elemental rule of nature says that for one thing to live, something else must die. That razor's exemplified here in the wilds of Mashatu.

Cheetahs, lions, and leopards stealthy slink around, looking for their next meal. On one hill, you may see a mother cheetah and her five mostly-grown kittens lazily slumbering while they wait for their next hunt to commence. Meanwhile, across a graveled wash, a pride of lions slumbers while the babies perform mock stalks on one another in a game that looks like play. However, the play is deadly serious as it's teaching the cubs how to survive a land that's constantly trying to kill them. Their rough and tumble games, however, take place near the pride's females. The adult lioness' know that the big world around them is unkind to their progeny. Therefore, as the cubs drift too far away for comfort, a female growls a nearly inaudible sound that causes them to stop, look, and return from whence they came.

It's a natural drama that always plays out in real-time.

Each night we slumber in the tented camp. While technically, our abodes are tents, it's a long way from roughing it. Each tent has a bed inside, a bathroom, and a shower off the back. It's as comfortable of lodging as you'll find anywhere. The quietness and serenity amplify the comfort.

It's a perfect setting in an ideal place.

Each day at Masahtu, we cast out from the camp in search of all sorts of wildlife. We see elephants, giraffes, three species of big cats, guineafowl, and an assortment of other birds. It's almost too much to take in. But we try.

As the day grows nigh, we stop and enjoy a sundowner. It's an African custom (I'm told) to enjoy your beverage of choice and wash in the last rays of the day's light while communing with your compatriots on the safari. It's always a fitting end to a sometimes manic day of photography.

On the last morning of the excursion, we take to a pit blind with a water hole fanning away from our hiding spot. The blind is a sunken cargo container modified to act as a place to hide from the animals who come into the watering hole for a sip. At sunrise, we descend into the blind and settle in. The space is ample and unconfined. My eyes are about a foot above the water level as I stand.

A flock of guineafowl dart across the flatland and ultimately make their way to drink. Then, one bird species after another flies in to get their fill of water. Wildebeest show up, as do impala. It's like rush hour on the Botswanan prairie. At some point, I lose count of species showing up at the watering hole.

Soon, I catch movement out of the blind's north window. Amazingly, I do not hear the elephant's giant footstep fall, but I see its massive foot and leg mere inches from where we sit. She's a big female, and she's joined by a dozen or so other elephants of all ages as they happily drink the meyu. Of the things I've seen in a lifetime in nature, this has to be one of the most incredible. As silently as they come, they slip off into the brushlands. While I have pictures to document what I saw, the images created out of digital media can't replicate the entire experience. Slowly I exhale and contemplate the moment. Although fleeting, it is a memory that will linger in me forever.

There are 26 letters in the American alphabet. With an unflinching deftness, the best writers can express a thought using the combination of these letters to form words. Those words are used to convey meaning and impart emotion. With what I experienced in Botswana, I cannot conjure the words to fully express the sincere joy I found in my heart. I am certainly not the first to travel here, and I won't be the last. However, each person finds a way to make this experience their own. As such, Botswana's left an indelible mark on my memories.

Was it the people, the land, or the wildlife that I found so intriguing? Well, it's all three in equal parts. I'll be back. I don't know when but I will be back. There's too much to see and experience here, and much I left undone.

As the sun sinks on the last evening of the trip, our guide Edward straddles the Land Cruiser across a craggy hilltop for one final sundowner. I take a gin and tonic in my hand, and it still fizzes from the fresh pour of tonic water. We toast to a great adventure as a bright band of orange slips away in the western sky.

Tomorrow I'll be back on a plane bound for home. That's not a bad consolation for time spent away. However, I keep wishing for one more day here… simply, one more day.

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AUTHOR

Russell Graves

Raised in rural Texas, Russell is the product of a modest, blue-collar upbringing, a stalwart work ethic, and a family who put no bounds on his imagination and creativity. When Russell was a junior in high school, he wrote a research paper for his end-of-year English project. The research paper (which he still has today), titled simply Wildlife Photography, earned him an "A" for the project. Still, more importantly, the mini-tome served as a manifesto of sorts that would define his life's work.

When he was 19, he had his first photographs and article published in a magazine. When he was 20, he earned his first magazine cover. By his own admission, the work now appears marginal and sophomoric. It was the spark, however, that ignited the fire to keep him going and perfect his creative craft.

Upon leaving a career in teaching, Russell continued his life's work by capturing the people and places outside of city limits in innovative and authentic ways. In the ensuing years, he continued to build on his experience and churn out content for clients through magazine pieces, advertising campaigns, television projects, and numerous books. In addition, he also worked with a small West Texas town to help them develop a marketing strategy and put together development deals that would bring jobs and prosperity to that little corner of rural Texas.

Russell came to Backcountry Journeys in the fall of 2017 as a guest. He met owners Russ and Crystal Nordstrand as they were the leaders for the Katmai Bears trip. A few months later, Russ asked Russell if he wanted to guide trips. Since then, Russell has led nearly 500 guests on adventures worldwide.

Russell says he feels like he's come full circle by combining his love of photography with his teaching ability.

In the media, Russell's been called a rural renaissance man, recognized as one of the top photographers in Texas, and praised by editors, art directors, and audiences alike for his ability to connect people and places through his written, spoken, and photographic stories. He's had nearly a million words published, authored six books, has had thousands of images grace the pages of magazines and advertisements all over the world (including about 600 magazine covers), is an in-demand speaker, has photographed some of the most prominent people in our country, and is the owner of two businesses. Still, he insists that his most significant accomplishments fall under the heading of father, husband, brother, son, and friend.

When he's not in the field teaching or doing projects for one of his clients, Russell is found on his beloved Hackberry Farm driving his tractor and doing tasks that benefit the land and her denizens therein. He now lives a mile from the small stock farm on which he was raised. Black dirt and creek water are a powerful poultice.

His parents are still proud of him

You can see Russell’s work and portfolio on his webpage at www.russellgraves.com

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Trip Report: Ultimate Botswana Wildlife Safari

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