What started as a planned adventure to witness the great zebra migration in the Makgadikgadi Pans turned into what can only be described as “The Wet One”. When it comes to nature, no amount of planning can outrun the elements. Armed with enthusiasm and prepared for the usual summer thunderstorms, Tony Yeo was determined to cross the pans and reach the zebras at their gathering grounds – rain or shine. Here is his story.
Every year, the zebra migration in the Makgadikgadi Pans is triggered by the arrival of the rainy season. As the first rains fall in November, the once-barren landscape transforms, with fresh grass and replenished waterholes luring large herds of zebras – up to 30 000 strong. They remain until February, when instinct drives them on a 1 000km trek back to the Chobe Plains and Nxai Pan National Park.
We set off at dawn, meeting at our agreed departure point before heading towards the border and our first overnight stop at Khama Rhino Sanctuary. The heavens had other plans, however, unleashing torrential rain – known as “Pula” in Setswana – upon us en route. Fortunately, by the time we arrived, the downpour had subsided just enough for us to embark on an unforgettable game drive, where we had the privilege of spotting majestic black and white rhinos in their natural habitat.
Thanks to a well-timed tip from Meshak Lefoko in Lethlakeng about the state of the pans, we decided to play it safe and execute Plan B, heading straight to the picturesque Camelthorn Farmstead Campsite. A delightful evening followed, filled with the usual campfire camaraderie and shared anticipation for the journey ahead.
Day two saw us bound for Nxai Pan National Park, though we were entirely unprepared for the sheer volume of rain that had recently fallen. In truth, the park should have been closed. The entrance road had become a continuous stretch of water, and upon reaching our designated campsite, we were greeted by a scene fit for a disaster movie; flooded grounds with water levels nearly reaching my vehicle’s sump. Thankfully, we found a drier spot to set up camp.
As if rewarding our perseverance, the skies cleared just enough for an afternoon game drive. The scenery was nothing short of breathtaking: lush, verdant plains stretching as far as the eye could see, giraffes going about their business, and elephants, though few, making their way across the landscape as if summoned by the rains.
The midday break was spent drying out our damp gear, repacking, and restoring some order to our muddied convoy before setting out on another game drive. To cover more ground, we split up, maintaining radio contact in case of any exciting sightings. Although no major wildlife spectacles unfolded, it was undeniably better than spending the day in an office.
Back at camp, it took a while for us to realise that one of our crew, Mr G, had yet to return. Concern turned to worry as repeated radio calls went unanswered. An hour passed with no sign of him. Had he turned back? Had his vehicle broken down? Was he lost? The uncertainty gnawed at us.
Finally, the radio crackled to life. “Hello? Are you calling me?”
A wave of relief washed over us. “And? What happened?”
“Oh, I took a muddy, unused track and got stuck…”
Crisis averted. We cracked open a celebratory beer and settled in for another enjoyable evening around the fire, just in time for the rain to start again.
The next morning, we made our way to Makgadikgadi National Park, where we camped on the riverbank at Khumaga Campsite. Game drives along the dry Boteti River proved rewarding, with excellent wildlife sightings, though the elusive big cats remained just that – elusive. Our two-night stay was pleasant, and with the rain finally easing up, we dared to believe the worst was behind us.
That was, until we reached the Limpopo River on our return to South Africa. The river had visibly risen since we’d first crossed it a week earlier, and we later learned that the border post closed the following day due to flooding. We counted ourselves lucky to have made it through just in time.
Driving towards Ellisras, the evidence of widespread flooding was everywhere; fields submerged, riverbanks overflowing, and the road to Vaalwater completely impassable. A lengthy detour later, and we were finally homeward bound.
Though we didn’t witness the awe-inspiring zebra masses we had hoped for, the journey was anything but a disappointment. Memories of our last migration tour lingered in my mind, but this trip, despite its many challenges, had its own magic. The group embraced the adventure in good spirits, knowing that nature follows its own schedule. Until the next zebra migration tour – this one will be remembered for the rain, the mishaps, and, most importantly, the camaraderie.
