Eastern Etosha gets more rainfall than the west, and it shows. The landscape here was greener, more varied, and dotted with thicker patches of brush and trees. This meant two things: first, spotting animals was more challenging due to the cover, but second, there was a higher chance of stumbling upon more diverse species—and maybe even some predators on the move.
Our route took us past several well-known waterholes: Chudop, Klein Namutoni, and Okerfontein. Each had its own character. Chudop was lively—herds of springbok and impala nervously skirting around larger zebras and wildebeest. At one point we saw a giraffe trying to work up the nerve to drink, legs splayed awkwardly, head tilted, looking very much like someone trying yoga for the first time.
Klein Namutoni was quieter but offered a magical moment—a herd of elephants, including tiny calves, emerging from the bush in a slow, dust-kicking procession. It was calm and cinematic, the kind of sight that makes you forget to even reach for your camera.
We kept our eyes peeled for leopards—this region is known for sightings—but no luck on this drive. Still, with every turn, the anticipation remained. That’s the thing about a game drive: it’s part safari, part treasure hunt, part lesson in patience. Patience paid off when we saw a young pride of lions waking up from their afternoon nap. A dominant male protecting two females and their young.
And while the sightings are obviously a big draw, there’s also something meditative about driving slowly through open plains and tree-lined tracks with nothing but the hum of tires and occasional bursts of excitement: “Elephant at the next junction!”
The Quiet Magic of a Game Drive
Game drives are an interesting cocktail of patience, knowledge, and a little bit of luck. You spend hours driving down dusty tracks, eyes constantly scanning the landscape, focusing on objects in the distance, and every so often—pulling up next to another car to swap stories:
“Anything interesting on your side?”
“Yep, pride of lions just past Chudop. Lazing under the mopane trees.”
And off you go again, hoping your stars align the same way.
What makes this experience so powerful, though, isn’t just the sightings—it’s what they represent. Seeing the animal kingdom up close is humbling. There’s an entire world playing out out there—parallel to ours—governed not by technology or time zones, but by the simple, raw laws of survival.
Thousands of animals, from towering elephants to silent stalking jackals, coexisting, competing, and surviving. They gather at waterholes, mark territories, raise young, and defend themselves—all without us even realizing it.
You sit in your car, watching quietly from a distance, and realize: we’re visitors here. Lucky to get a glimpse of a world that, for the most part, functions perfectly without us.
It’s those moments—when a lion looks you in the eye, or an elephant flaps its ears and decides you’re too close—that remind you how small you really are. And how incredible this planet still is.
The Circle of Life!
The Travel Chapters 