Ethiopian fossil Lucy leaves for her first exhibition in Europe
Lucy's skeleton, which is 40% complete, left Ethiopia on Friday and will be displayed at the Czech National Museum in Prague for approximately two months.
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Yahoo
21 hours ago
- Yahoo
Why Rwanda needs to be on your bucket list: a first-timer's guide to ‘the Land of a Thousand Hills'
It may not be on everyone's radar as a bucket list destination — but there's plenty of reason why this tiny, landlocked country at the heart of East Africa deserves a spot on every discerning traveller's radar. From tracking gorillas in the northern mountains to experiencing Big Five safari in Akagera's eastern plains, there's lots to keep adventurous types occupied — and that's before you lose yourself in the thrum of Kigali, Rwanda's dizzying capital. Here's your itinerary for a whistlestop tour that encompasses all of the must-see sights. Days 1 - 3: Volcanoes National Park After landing in Kigali, most visitors' first port of call in Rwanda is Volcanoes National Park, known the world over as the go-to destination for gorilla trekking. This UNESCO World Heritage site borders neighbouring Uganda and the Democratic Republic of Congo: the only other destinations in the world where you can spot endangered gorillas in the wild. Whiz northwards from Kigali (the journey to the Virunga Mountains takes approximately three hours), and the dense cityscape quickly gives way to endless, undulating mountains draped in lush greenery: it's easy to see why Rwanda is dubbed 'the Land of a Thousand Hills'. As you wind through the rolling terrain, rice paddies give way to thick clusters of mango and banana trees, before gradually shifting into the rugged peaks of the Virungas. Settle in at Virunga Lodge, a legendary mountaintop retreat recognised as the very first hotel in the region dedicated to gorilla trekking tourism. Perched 7,000 feet above sea level, and flanked on either side by glistening lakes, 10 standalone villas are elegantly styled in Afro-chic decor: think rattan furnishings, four-poster beds swathed in linen, and spacious stone bathrooms. Evening performances by local dancers and musicians, massages to nurse your weary limbs after long hikes, and daily laundry are all included in a stay here. It's all about the thoughtful touches: each morning, hot coffee is delivered to your door by your personal butler, and after communal suppers at the open-air dining room, you'll return to your villa to find fires lit and hot water bottles tucked between the sheets. At sunrise each morning, you'll journey towards Volcanoes National Park in giddy anticipation of spotting gorillas in the wild. Visitors are organised into small groups of eight dependent on your preferred difficulty level, and led by an expert guide upwards into the park. The uphill climb is arguably the most gruelling part of the trek, but is rewarded by far-reaching vistas across rambling farmland and forest. When you finally arrive at the border of the national park, the terrain transforms entirely: you'll find yourself navigating through thick, untamed jungle (home to more than 200 different plant species) and clambering over slippery rocks to keep up with the seasoned team of trackers leading you towards the specific gorilla family you'll be tracking that day. Reaching the gorillas can take anything from thirty minutes to three hours: when you finally spot the elusive silverback leading his family through the jungle, the overwhelming feeling of relief and joy is indescribable. This is an exclusive experience (only 120 gorilla trekking permits are issued each day and guests spend only an hour observing their assigned gorilla family) — and that's reflected in the price; if you're able to shoulder the daily $1,500 per person park fee, a three-night stay will allow you to experience more than one route through the mountains, and multiple opportunities to spot gorillas in their natural habitat. A visit to the Dian Fossey Fund is also a must; founded in honor of Dian Fossey, who is often credited with saving gorillas from near-extinction, the museum showcases her role as the pioneering force behind Rwanda's conservation efforts. Today, thanks to her work, approximately 1,063 gorillas inhabit the vast massif that spans Rwanda, Uganda, and the DRC, with about half the population residing in Rwanda alone. In the years to come, expanding the acreage where these majestic animals can roam freely remains a top priority. Days 4 - 5: Kigali From Volcanoes National Park, it's a three-hour drive to Rwanda's capital, Kigali. We're transported by Rwandan tour operator PTS, and our lively driver, Pacifique, keeps the ride engaging by enthusiastically pointing out local landmarks along the way. After a few days spent within the secluded depths of the rainforest, returning to the chaos of the city almost feels like an assault on the senses. The stillness of the mountains is replaced by the blare of car horns, and motorcyclists weave deftly between the colourful market stalls and glossy skyrises. Among the shiny new-builds sits The Pinnacle, an uber-luxe stay that's recently opened in Kigali Hills: the city's answer to Beverly Hills' 90210. There are just nine bedrooms at this private members' club come hotel, each kitted out in colourful interiors inspired by the owners' varied travels: expect artworks sourced from across east Africa, and expensive-feeling fabrics in every room. All boast deep bathtubs, complimentary minibars that you're encouraged to raid, and clever tech for adjusting the lighting and curtains. There's everything you could possibly imagine to keep you entertained, from the super-sized swimming pool to the gym, library, private cinema, and games room that even has its own bowling alley. It might be tempting to hole away inside, but there are plenty of thrills (of the culinary and cultural variety) stretching out at your doorstep. Slurp tropical smoothies and local coffee at Indabo Cafe's Kiyovu location, before browsing the hand-woven textiles at neighbouring Go Bananas and admiring local artworks at David Mugire's gallery. For lunch, stop by Repub Lounge for typical Rwandan fare (where you'll feast on karanga, fragrant ginger rice, and fresh plantain) before losing yourself among the stalls at Kimironko Market, and foraging for souvenirs and hand-crafted jewellery at Abraham Konga Collections. Art enthusiasts can spend the afternoon browsing the galleries at Inema Art Center. Of utmost importance for any first-time visitor to the capital is the Kigali Genocide Memorial. This is a country profoundly shaped by division and colonialism — yet a remarkable resilience has emerged over recent decades, significantly transforming Rwanda's social fabric. The Memorial's exhibits, centered on the 1994 Genocide Against the Tutsi, offer a deeply moving and essential insight into the nation's past and its journey toward healing. Another must-visit is Nyamirambo Women's Center, an NGO founded in 2007 to tackle gender-based violence, discrimination, and inequality; through education and training, over 6,000 women have been equipped with hairdressing, sewing, and styling skills. The centre offers guided walks through Nyamirambo neighbourhood, where you can witness firsthand some of the women in action. Close the day with dinner at La Creola, a buzzy bar and restaurant that serves Rwandan-fusion cuisine, or dial it up a notch with the chef's table experience at Kozo, where executive chef Sakorn Somboon's atlas-spanning career results in an exquisite tasting menu blending Asian and African flavours. Day 6 - 8: Akagera National Park After 48 hours of city exploring, round off your week in Rwanda by heading east to spot untamed wildlife in the rolling savannahs of Akagera National Park. In comparison to the well-trodden safari routes through Kenya and neighbouring Tanzania, Rwanda remains a relatively under-the-radar safari destination. This sprawling national park on the cusp of Tanzania is the only location within the country where travellers can experience Big Five safari, with lions, leopards, elephants (and more!) roaming the vast swathes of savannah and marshy swamp. Your safari experience is almost entirely dictated by the lodge you stay at, and for the ultimate sleepover, you'll want to bed down at Wilderness Magashi. Located in a private concession amid the park's northern plains, this is undoubtedly the most luxurious camp within Akagera. With only eight tented bedrooms (all primed to face the sunrise and dangling above glistening Lake Rwanyakazinga), a stay here feels entirely secluded from other travellers, yet tantalisingly close to wildlife: it's not uncommon to spend entire game drives without encountering a single other vehicle in the bush, but you'll wake to the grunt of hippos wallowing in the lake directly beneath you. An all-inclusive stay includes expertly crafted breakfasts, lunches, and dinners, along with afternoon nibbles, sundowners served in the bush, and two guided game drives each day. Depending on the season, your adventures might include boat cruises across the lake (glide through hippo-infested waters and spy crocodiles snoozing by the lake's edge) and drives through dense bush in pursuit of zebras, giraffes, and rhinos. Every detail of the guest experience is seamless: the whipsmart team learns each guest's name within minutes of arrival - along with your coffee order and cocktail of choice — and there are homemade cookies in your bedroom to welcome you, along with hot water bottles to warm the bed. As if the experience could be any more spoiling, the lodge is soon expanding to encompass Wilderness Magashi Peninsula: a clutch of super-luxury villas, each boasting private pools and far-reaching views across the peninsula. The details Nightly rates at Wilderness Magashi start from £673 per person sharing, including all meals, twice daily scheduled camp activities, park fees, laundry and local drinks Lead in rate for Virunga Lodge is £845 all-inclusive per person sharing Rooms at The Pinnacle Hotel start at £1,890 a night based on two people sharing Getting there: RwandAir flies daily from London Heathrow to Kigali with return fares including all taxes and charges starting from £679 in Economy Class and £2,300 in Business Class
Travel Weekly
2 days ago
- Travel Weekly
Private flight elevates Virgin luxury camps in Kenya
Soaring just 1,000 feet above the ground, I peered down at large families of elephants ambling through the lush green landscape of Kenya's Amboseli National Park. We circled one more time in our small, private charter plane to marvel at the gentle giants before making our way down to the remote landing strip just outside the Finch Hattons Luxury Camp. We had taken off from the recently reopened Mahali Mzuri, located in a private conservancy within the famed Masai Mara National Reserve, and made our way south as part of a new flight package connecting Virgin Limited Edition's two luxury camps in Kenya. We had been late for the flight, distracted by a warthog darting through tall grass and a herd of buffalo we came upon on the way to the dusty runway, but the beauty of a private flight means the plane waits for you. And it was that same over-the-top level of luxury that extended to every moment of the trip. "By facilitating a direct flight between Tsavo West and the Masai Mara, we've eliminated the traditional transit time via Nairobi, ensuring a seamless and luxurious transition," said James Bermingham, CEO of the Virgin Hotels Collection. "This means more time for unforgettable wildlife encounters and less time traveling, solidifying our commitment to providing an exclusive, 'beyond-expectations' vacation where every moment is curated for pure indulgence and discovery." Bermingham called the new flight package "a game-changer" for "guests seeking the ultimate, over-the-top Kenyan safari." Looking out over the conservancy from the deck of the Mahali Mzuri camp in the Masai Mara National Reserve. Photo Credit: Alison Fox And he wasn't wrong. The private charter flights from Mahali Mzuri to Finch Hattons start at $4,900 each way on Scenic Air Safaris for the 95-minute journey when both camps are included. But these private flights, which can accommodate up to 10 people, include not just the transportation but all the perks of flying private, including accommodating our request for one more loop around the national park to spot more elephants. Alternatively, travelers who start their trip at Finch Hattons can also book flights to Mahali Mzuri starting at $405 per person on local carriers Safarilink and starting at $466 on Fly ALS. The new flight connections are only available during the Great Migration season, which typically occurs between July and October. On a game drive with Finch Hattons in Tsavo West National Park. Photo Credit: Alison Fox Wild encounters There's no right way to do a safari, but beginning our journey at Mahali Mzuri proved a uniquely special way to start. From the second we arrived, greeted by a curious rock hyrax that called the property home, I could tell it would be extraordinary. Set atop a hill overlooking the Great Migration route, the 12-tent luxury camp offered the chance to spot animals from the 39-foot infinity pool and enjoy elaborate multicourse meals with endless views, all with a warm, come-as-you-are attitude that made me feel all the more welcome. In my room, intricate Masai-inspired beadwork adorned the side table, while a modern aesthetic was complemented with splashes of red and black, celebrating traditional Masai dress. At night, I was lulled to sleep by the sound of hippos grunting in the distance and awakened in the morning by the sun slowly rising over my expansive deck. We hung out with a family of lions, fawned over a baby giraffe just a couple days old, enjoyed coffee while watching elephants and passed by dozens of zebras on the twice-daily game drives through the more than 33,000-acre Olare Motorogi Conservancy that were included in our stay, ending the day with a glass of red wine by the fire pit while a lone wildebeest looked on in the distance. The view from the private deck of a tent at Finch Hattons. Photo Credit: Alison Fox When we finally got to Finch Hattons in Tsavo West National Park, I was immediately struck by a much different landscape. The wide-open expanse of the Masai Mara had been replaced by thick brush and volcanic rocks piled high on both sides of the dusty road as the dramatic, inky Chyulu Hills rose in the distance. While we drove to get close to wildlife at Mahali Mzuri, here we trekked across leaf-strewn paths and around stocky trees led by Finch Hattons' on-site conservationist in search of hippos, whispering as we went so as to not disturb the fascinating but dangerous animals. We ended the day on the elevated viewing deck, enjoying small bites and watching Mount Kilimanjaro come into view, its peaks backlit by the deep orange sunset. The next morning, we awoke before dawn to climb those same towering Chyulu Hills. I watched the sky turn a dusty pink as the sun strove to peep through a thick cover of clouds before hiking back down to the car, rewarded for my efforts with a breakfast of egg sandwiches and warm coffee while overlooking the expansive park. A tent at the luxury Finch Hattons Luxury camp. Photo Credit: Alison Fox Back in my tent, I wrapped myself in the sounds of birds chirping as I looked out at the natural spring, the camp's resident monkeys dancing across my private deck with seemingly boundless energy. I would head to Nairobi the next day, prepared to board the 15-hour flight back to New York. But in that moment, all I could hear was the peaceful hum of nature, knowing I had enjoyed a special experience between the two unique camps I wouldn't soon forget. Travelers who plan a trip combining both Virgin Limited Edition camps can book starting at $2,500 per person, per night at Mahali Mzuri and starting at $1,405 per person, per night at Finch Hattons. In addition, guests who stay for at least four nights at either camp will receive an extra night for free.
Yahoo
3 days ago
- Yahoo
Tracking Namibia's desert rhinos in the storms of a decade
This article was produced by National Geographic Traveller (UK). Damaraland is certainly a large area (18,000sq miles) and it's definitely in a hot region (current temperature 31C). But where I'd expected lunar landscapes speckled with the occasional succulent, there are rolling hills swathed in softly wafting grass. Where I'd imagined blue skies untroubled by a single cloud, there are cumulonimbus boiling overhead and thick sheets of rain barrelling across the horizon. I'd pictured a world that had no ambitions beyond 'beige' on the colour chart. This is every shade of green, from the near neon of a tennis ball to the silvery subtlety of a sage leaf. 'It's crazy special,' says Bernadro Hillary Roman as I climb into an open-sided Land Cruiser behind him. 'For 14 years, we've had a massive drought. This place normally looks like a rock garden.' I meet goateed guide Bernadro — better known as Bons — at a sandy airstrip in the Palmwag Concession, a protected conservancy of 2,100sq miles in northwest Damaraland. It's several steps beyond the middle of nowhere. Bouncing beneath the clouds in a tiny Cessna, I'd seen signs of life fade the further north the plane travelled from the Namibian capital of Windhoek: first the settlements disappeared, then the trees, finally the roads. Below, enormous rock formations rippled out of the flat earth like petrified sea monsters. Like most people, I've made the journey for one reason: to see a critically endangered species that has learnt to survive in this normally hostile and arid environment. 'We have the world's largest population of desert-adapted black rhino here,' Bons says, driving towards our camp, sunglasses perched on his head. 'And we have a 99.99% success rate of finding them.' Bons has worked as a guide for Desert Rhino Camp since 2010 and knows the concession better than most. 'I grew up 11 miles away, this is my backyard,' he tells me as the rain starts, so faint at first I have to hold out my hand to be sure I feel it. 'Even if you put a bag over my head, I would know where we are.' He doesn't get a chance to demonstrate. Soon after our arrival at Desert Rhino, the skies darken, the wind picks up and the throaty growl of thunder rumbles across the plains, seeming to rebound off the surrounding mountains and pinball around the camp. The rain is quickly torrential. Puddles turn to little streams. Little streams turn to small lakes. We're marooned, hiding in our canvas safari tents like desert Noahs as the waters rise. Life on Mars There's little sign of the storm the following morning. A few clouds skim the horizon in the inky pre-dawn light and the earth is dark and damp, but the water has entirely drained into the porous soil. What I take to be the cartoon-like croak of a frog is, according to Bons, the dual calls of two Rüppell's korhaans — slender, beige birds found in regions with little rain. As the sun rises, turning the grass golden, they form a tiny orchestra, joined by the looping whistle of a Benguela long-billed lark and the cheerful twitters of sparrow-larks. The plan for the day is to join Palmwag's rangers and — with luck — follow them to some of the 17 or so black rhinos within driving distance of the camp. The rangers had set off a couple of hours earlier to get the search underway. 'The trackers track the rhino and we track the trackers,' says Bons with a characteristically mischievous grin. 'It's hard for them though — the rain will have washed away any footprints.' We spend the morning trundling along tracks that weave across the concession, each turn revealing another epic landscape — an endless parade of grass-covered hills filing to the horizon, punctuated by sandstone cliffs and giant outcrops of red basalt. Yellow mouse whiskers and purple carpetweed flowers poke up between the rocks, splashing the desert with colour. The minty smell of wild tea carries on the breeze. 'Usually this looks like Mars,' says Bons. 'If a guest from the last 10 years saw pictures of it now, they would need to see a doctor.' Prominent in the landscape is the plant that allows black rhinos to survive in a more typical year. The drought-resistant Euphorbia damarana, or Damara milk-bush, contain a latex sap that's poisonous to most animals, including humans, but not rhinos, sustaining them in the absence of other sources of food. Deadly toxins are not the only horror concealed within the bush: hundreds of spider-like armoured crickets cling to its spiky fronds, likely feeding on the latex to make themselves unpalatable to birds. As we continue through Palmwag, Bons frequently stops to peer through binoculars, his naked eye having picked up evidence of other life in the desert, much of it drawn in by the abundant grass. Among them are the retreating backsides of springboks, zebras and oryx keen to get as far away from us as possible. A closer encounter comes after we slosh through the fast-flowing water and thick mud of the normally dry Uniab River. An Angolan giraffe stands on the other side, his jaw working at the leaves of a mopane tree as he gazes impassively at us. We have little time to gaze back. The Land Cruiser's radio crackles with a message from the rangers — they've found rhinos. We set off in their direction with some urgency and are soon driving past heaps of megafauna dung, the trackers' 4WD in our sights ahead. Beyond them are the rhinos — a female in front, a small calf sticking close by and a large male ambling in their wake. 'The trackers will tell us where to go, and we follow on foot,' says Bons, his voice hushed. 'We want the rhinos to experience the least human disturbance. We don't want them used to jeeps — you can imagine how vulnerable they are to poachers then.' The team motions us over and instructs us to walk behind them in single file and to stay silent. 'We need you to blend in,' ranger Denso Tjiraso whispers. 'We are in their environment and we want them to be unaware of you.' Our attempts to blend in and stay silent fail almost immediately. Edging down a rocky slope, we dislodge layers of shale, which slide and clatter beneath our feet. The three animals turn and look — they're very much aware of us. At the bottom, we all stand and stare at one another, caught in a Mexican standoff with a hundred metres between us. The rhinos finally relax, conscious of our presence but apparently untroubled — the adults return to the grassy lunch at their feet, ears cocked in our direction, while the baby slumps in the shadow cast by her mother. Along with Denso, trackers Hofney Gaseb and Richard Ganuseb pull out notebooks and cameras, recording the animals' condition and sketching distinctive features that help identify them. In front of us, I learn, are Tuta, daughter Kasper and interloper Arthur, who's likely hanging around in the hope of mating. Survey over, we quietly retreat, leaving them to find some shade as the mercury rises. Good weather for rhinos Guests at Desert Rhino Camp are able to have such unique experiences thanks to a project it runs with Save The Rhino Trust Namibia (SRT). For over 21 years, they've worked with the three communities within the conservancy, leasing land from them and sharing profits from the camp, as well as encouraging them to help with conservation efforts and to report any signs of poaching. SRT also trains and equips Palmwag's rangers, recruiting many of them from those same local villages. I meet the trust's director of field operations, Lesley Karutjaiva, as he's returning to his headquarters in the concession and Bons and I are out on a meandering drive. Leaning on his 4WD, neatly dressed in green shirt and trousers, he tells me that the SRT has trained 71 rangers, and anti-poaching efforts are improving. 'We have around 200 rhinos here,' he says as thunder rattles around us. 'But 500 would be a good number.' The deficit is not down to poachers. 'Our last good rain was in 2011,' Lesley explains. 'During extreme drought we lose many calves — the mothers don't have enough food to produce milk.' In better news, he tells me, Palmwag has received so much rainfall this year, it should see them through for another five. With theatrical good timing, the storm that has been threatening all afternoon finally breaks, raindrops hammering around us with sudden ferocity. Lightning spasms across a sky slashed red with the rays of the setting sun. 'Oh, this is very good weather for rhinos,' Lesley says with a broad smile as we retreat to our vehicles. 'We are all very happy.' The rest of my time in Palmwag produces further very good weather for rhinos, and further rhino sightings. We spot Tuta, Kasper and Arthur as they plod along a dry river bed in the soft evening light, and again as they enjoy a roaming buffet of wild grasses on an early-morning stroll through the hills. Each time, they eventually catch our scent on the wind and take off for the horizon with a surprisingly dainty little trot. The concession's low-intervention approach towards the wildlife on its land means the animals remain unhabituated to both vehicles and humans, and their natural instinct is to run away from both very quickly indeed. But it's not a common strategy in the reserves of northern Namibia, as becomes clear almost immediately at my next stop. Coming into land after an hour-long, corkscrewing flight east from Palmwag, I already feel transported to another world. Nature swaggers here, lavishing the land with thick clumps of trees, the whitest sandy soil and vast turquoise pools of water. Humans have added the decorative touches of arrow-straight roads and fences. It's a 10-minute drive from the airstrip to the gates of Onguma, a privately owned reserve of more than 130sq miles on the edge of Namibia's landmark Etosha National Park. Those 10 minutes provide a bumper pack of wildlife sightings. A family of banded mongooses tumble and play metres from the vehicle; a male wildebeest strides nonchalantly past, so close I might lean out and touch him; a small herd of oryx, horns rising like spears, graze at the edge of a clearing; and a lilac-breasted roller perches on a termite mound as kori bustards strut through the grass behind. Nothing is running away here. Walk on the wild side I soon learn that close encounters are something of a theme at Onguma. While the reserve prioritises the welfare of its animals above all, it allows its human guests plenty of opportunities to quietly observe them at near quarters. At the exclusive lodge of Camp Kala, each of the four suites sits on a raised walkway overlooking a water hole, with hyenas and elephants coming in to drink as guests watch from their plunge pools. A custom-built Land Cruiser with a 'star bed' built over the cabin allows couples to spend the night out in the open, listening to the grunts of nearby lions as the Milky Way dazzles overhead. And a hide set partly beneath ground level allows its occupants to peer out at zebras and giraffes standing oblivious just metres away. The accommodation I'm heading to, however, has been open for barely a month, and the wildlife in the area is not yet accustomed to the new residents. With the sun setting and the bullfrogs croaking, my perennially cheerful guide Liberty Eiseb and I bump along a track towards Trails Camp. Liberty stops the vehicle to point out boot prints left in the sand beneath us by Onguma's anti-poaching unit, who patrol in pairs at night. Beside them are the tracks of a leopard. 'This is probably the leopard that comes into camp when we are sleeping,' he says. 'I hear it every night at 4am.' I can hardly blame it for calling in — Trails Camp is a mini Eden tucked within an acacia woodland, from where guests typically head out on walking safaris. Lantern-lit pathways lead to four safari tents, each with a wooden hot tub at the front and an outdoor shower at the back. When darkness enfolds the bush, the Southern Cross and Scorpio shine bright in the firmament of stars above. 'Here you get silence and you get adventure,' says Liberty with some glee before we both turn in for the night. After an undisturbed sleep, I find him sitting by the fire in the muted pre-dawn light, a blackened tin kettle sat within the embers. 'You see the bushman's TV is already on,' he says, gesturing to the flames. 'It always tells a good story.' He heard the saw-like calls of the leopard as it padded through at 4am and 5.30am. 'The animals need to get used to the camp, but they will,' he continues. 'The big leopard will soon be sitting in the trees around us.' With breakfast soundtracked by turtle doves crooning from those same trees, I could get used to the camp myself, but the bush waits for no one, and I set off with guide Tristan Lewis for a day's exploration. We're soon driving through a landscape pocked with water holes, with makalani palms towering above. Wildlife teems around us — the heads of giraffes appear above the umbrella thorns; elephants cross in front of us and instantly melt into the bush; African grey hornbills pick at termites; leopard tortoises bumble along the track; spotted hyenas skulk through the grass. 'Morning drives are my favourite,' says Tristan, his traditional safari uniform of beige shirt and shorts accessorised by a neat little moustache. 'Everything's fresh, everything's waking up.' Like Palmwag, Onguma has seen unprecedented rainfall, and it's changed the behaviour of the animals on the reserve. 'We usually have a little migration with the rain,' Tristan tells me as we stop to watch a herd of impalas chewing on grass, their black eyes fixed on the vehicle. 'Breeding groups go east because that's where the first rains usually fall. But they're finding rainwater everywhere now, so all the patterns are messed up.' The rain has messed up some of the tracks, too, and Tristan occasionally has to coax the Land Cruiser through deep, water-filled channels in the mud, or turn back and find another route. We're on the lookout for a pride of lions seen near the reserve's border with Etosha when one particularly troublesome puddle finally defeats us. After radioing in for a replacement vehicle, Tristan points to a pair of male white rhinos grazing some way in the distance. 'It's not so bad being stuck when you're stuck by rhino,' he says. 'Shall we go for a walk?' He collects his rifle and we quietly creep towards them over sandy soil scattered with lion paw prints. 'We've spent hours and hours with these rhinos,' Tristan whispers as we draw closer. 'We know their behaviour is relaxed. They're not like black rhinos — black rhinos are a handful.' We're 60 feet away when the two males finally become aware of our presence. Tristan motions me to crouch down and be quiet. 'They know we're here, now we give them time to decide what to do,' he says softly as they stand facing us. 'You can see they're curious.' After a few minutes trying to figure us out, one cautiously pads in our direction, head down, ears rotating. He's so close I can hear him breathing when Tristan slowly rises — the rhino instantly canters away. Over the next 30 minutes, the pair repeatedly amble towards us, only moving away when Tristan gently shifts his position. 'They're comfortable with us but we don't want them too close,' he murmurs, watching as they graze. 'They're wild animals and we want them to stay wild.' It soon feels completely natural to sit quietly in the sand, passing the day with animals each weighing up to 2.5 tonnes and sporting impressively long and pointy horns. 'It's nice when they let you into their space and they're not threatened by you,' Tristan says when the rhinos eventually decide to move on. 'You can share this incredible time with them.' It's a parting gift from the rains of Namibia — a vehicle stuck in the mud, a moment of pure magic. As we wander, slightly giddy, towards the guide who's come to pick us up, I'm reminded of something Bons had said to me as we sheltered from a storm in Palmwag: 'The rain is very good for everything — for nature, for animals, for us.' Published in the September 2025 issue of National Geographic Traveller (UK).To subscribe to National Geographic Traveller (UK) magazine click here. (Available in select countries only). Solve the daily Crossword
