Sunset in Etosha National Park | Namibia

Remnants of our travels surround us. In the historic neighborhood of Old Town just north of downtown Chicago, we’ve created a home for ourselves in the form of a travelers’ den. A hand-carved chess set from Zambia sits on our coffee table, a tea set from Burma at the foot of our ottoman and a wooden shelf from northern Thailand is lined with guidebooks. A montage of black and white portraits of the orphans in Zambia puts our days in check and a world map suspended above a well-worn sofa, inspires adventures to come…Here, we feel at home.

While we dream up our next travel adventure, we’ve been trying to figure out just what to do with the 25,000 photos we captured from our journey. Enter: Easy Canvas. Easy Canvas Prints is a canvas creator that turns your photos into art. We were thrilled when they recently contacted us to do a review of their canvas prints and offer a giveaway to our readers.

Our Canvas Print

Thumbing through thousands of photos from our travels, it was hard to decide which photo to choose. We wanted something simple yet memorable. With the red-robed, stoic Masai Warrior against the great, green earth of the Ngorongoro Crater in northern Tanzania, this photo stood out.

We were thrilled to receive the 16 x 20 canvas print from Easy Canvas and were really happy with how it turned out. Because it’s on canvas, it looks and feels more like a painting of a photo than an actual photo. For the photograph we picked it turned out to be a good fit.

There are several ways you can customize your print. You can select the border wrap (depth) of .75″ or 1.5″ and you can choose the side of the canvas as either solid color, an image wrap or mirror wrap. We selected the .75″ and image wrap and were extremely pleased with the results.

Reader Giveaway

Now it’s your turn. In time for the holidays, we’re offering a giveaway for a free 16 x 20 print. If you’re looking for a great gift for a traveler friend or just looking for a creative way to display one of your favorite travel photographs, it’s easy to enter. Simply leave a comment below (or on our Facebook page) describing the photo you’d like to turn into a canvas. Feel free to share a description or link to the photo and we’ll select our favorite photograph as the winner of the contest. If you’re looking to make some more of your own prints, “Like” Easy Canvas on Facebook and they’ll give you 50 percent off your next print.

This contest is limited to readers in the US or at least those that have a shipping address in the US. It will run for a week and we’ll announce the winner next Monday, December 12.

Our print and this giveaway are sponsored by Easy Canvas Prints. However, the review of this product is our own opinion.

In three weeks we’re running the Chicago Marathon for these two (find out more here). We hope their stories will inspire you and perhaps move you to make a donation to their cause. If interested, please click the button below.

I can assure you Joseph and his little Momma will be eternally grateful.

We’re excited to share that the Chicago Marathon was a success and our marathon fundraising efforts a victory for those twelve little ones in Africa. We’ve raised nearly $3,000 for the kids and are still going strong. We are grateful for the support and the donations will certainly go a long way in Zambia. We’ll be working closely with the director of Oz Kids over the next few weeks to figure out how best to allocate this money. We’ll certainly be in touch to share details on how your contributions have benefited the children.

In the meantime, we wanted to share our path to the Chicago Marathon and a warm “Talumba” (thank you in the local tongue of Tonga) on behalf of the kids. Please check out the video below and thanks again for helping us make their world a little brighter.

Choir practice at the home with church members

One by one we were introduced to the children. The girls curtsied in the old English way and the boys politely took our bags. The aunties were visibly excited to have us and could not have been more welcoming. The Director of the orphanage was out of town so we looked to them for direction. And this is when we learned about the privileged status of the white man in Africa. They beamed at us and said, “We are so excited to learn from you!” What could we possibly have to teach them? We didn’t know how to approach the kids or what exactly our roles would be while there.

There was no set volunteer structure or defined goals. We knew the children needed help with reading, writing and speaking English. Zambia is made up of 72 different tribal groups, each with their own language. So, English is the uniting language, and more importantly, the language of business. If any of these kids is to get ahead in life, understanding the English language is important, if not necessary. But apart from this, we weren’t quite sure how to “educate” the children.

Partners in crime Mulenga and Chipego

Favorite time of day in Mazabuka

On October 9, we’re hitting the pavement, running 26.2 for these kids. Hope you’ll consider making a donation to make their world a little bit brighter.

For more details on our efforts, click here.

I just returned from the final long run of my marathon training for the kids and with just two weeks now to go till race day, I’m overcome with emotion. It’s on my long runs that I’m taken back there to Mazabuka, Zambia. I want to share some memories, some excerpts from my journal, that will perhaps inspire others to consider a donation to this cause.
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November 1, 2010

Today I arrived in Mazabuka, Zambia to the orphanage where we’ll spend the next month. Today, I cried my eyes out.

I must be honest here. These weren’t tears of sadness for the desperation of the faces before us, faces that represented a generation of shattered lives in a tilting world. These were shameful tears, steeped in a selfishness that comes from a sheltered world of egoism, our world of riches, pleasures and perpetual comfort. I didn’t know if I could do it.

Seemingly a world away, we stepped off the bright blue bus this morning to the sound of Coldplay crackling out of the bus speakers to face the sweltering heat of the African sun. We’d arrived to our destination: Mazabuka, Zambia. That small little dot on the map of our guidebook and a place few Zambians could tell us really anything about, Mazabuka’s claim to fame was that it was the home of Mazaubka Sugar. We didn’t know much more about the sweetest town in Zambia accept that it was awash in fields upon fields of sugar cane plantations. From the looks of the dusty roads and sparse fields around us, it was hard to believe anything could grow here much less an abundance of sugar, but that was beside the point. We’d arrived for the children, twelve abandoned orphans living on the outskirts of town in the rural village of Riverview in a home called Oz Kids.

Few looks compared to what can only be called the Indian stare – the way Indians look at you so deeply and intently you feel like they are looking directly at your soul – but here in Mazabuka we stood out more than ever. We’d been the only ones to exit our bus at the Mazabuka stop and from the looks thrown our way, it looked like very few ever did, especially two Western backpackers. With our packs fully loaded we trudged on with our safari sun-burnt faces past the maze of dilapidated shacks made of cement blocks topped with corrugated tin roofs.

Our befuddled faces soon attracted the attention of a team of youngsters huddled on a stone wall, and anxious to make a buck, they ushered us into their rickety vehicle. As our taxi pulled up, we bumped along the dirt road to the shrieking sound of gleeful children running out of mud huts and roofless homes. From the rearview mirror, I could see tens of children excitedly flapping their hands in the air amidst animated shouts of “Mabua! Mabua!” (white man) on bewildered faces.

I’d seen the home in a picture so I recognized it right away. We’d arrived to Oz Kids Orphanage, a home run by a couple from Townsville, Australia who had been so disconcerted or inspired (or perhaps both) on a recent visit to Central Africa that they decided to do something about it. They bought a plot of land, a cement block of a house and filled it to the brim with kids.

As we pulled in, I could see faces coyly peeking out behind barred windows and the unforgettable smile of an adolescent boy, I’d soon grow to know and love so well. On the heels of his orphaned brother, a bashful young boy trailed closely behind and together they greeted us with hesitation, with hope and grace. With an innocent graciousness, they proudly carried our bags to our room and here I got the first glimpse of the place I would soon call home.

We’d be living in the home with the children for our month’s stay. Of course I expected the most basic of living situations, but not even our year of travel could have prepared me for life here. Following the pitter patter of calloused feet on a cement floor, we made our way to our room. Looking back and knowing them now so well, the boys were so proud to show it to us. It was, after all, our own room, something they’d never know. The kids, I’d learn, had grown up with entire families of eight to 10 sharing one bed in single-room shacks. This was a Zambian luxury, but what I saw at the time was an oversized closet, a tattered mattress on some wooden beams beneath a hole-ridden mosquito net.

The bathroom would be shared with the twelve children. We had a toilet (which we later learned most of the children had never seen before arriving here and were equally awestruck and confounded with the innovative apparatus) and a faucet under which to wash our sweaty bodies. Above the faucet hung an abundance of dirty diapers dripping on a roped line. And creepy crawlers, those I never before knew existed, graced the white walls and would play witness to our daily bucket-like showers.

“We want to learn from you,” said Autie Monde, the Whitney Houston look alike and so-called mother of the house. We’d soon learn that this would be a theme of our stay. Everyone was looking to learn from the mabuas who’d just rolled into town.

But, what did I have to share?

Within moments of arrival, soiled babes were passed off to us, looking up at us with blank faces. Dear, precious Joseph was placed in our hands and basically put under our constant care from that minute on. Ryan welcomed it, them, this…without reservation, without hesitation.

Retreating to the privacy of our own little room, I began to unpack a few things, placing my clothing items in neat stacks on the dusty shelf and floor as tears streamed down my face. We’d come all this way. I wanted this, I reminded myself. I didn’t expect to react this way. Why was it so hard?

And then, they broke me…

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November 21, 2010

I hardly recognize that person who walked through those doors three weeks ago. Living, eating and spending every waking moment with the kids we have become completely immersed in their lives. I’ve had my hair twisted, yanked and tugged into tight cornrows umpteen times and the girls try fruitlessly through tearful laughter to get my dancing hips to move the way theirs do. They spend hours admiring the white palms of our hands and rubbing fingers through Ryan’s beard has become a favorite pastime.

It took some time to develop our place in the home. We wanted to give some purpose to our visit and leave the kids with something greater than they had before we arrived. We knew this wouldn’t come in the form of our pocketbook, but we were hopeful there was a piece of us we could leave behind.

When they weren’t scrubbing the toilet or beating their laundry clean, the kids spent their time under the hot sun staring silently, aimlessly into the distance. It’s hard to imagine what it is like to have absolutely nothing and what nothing really means. We lived it. Minutes passed like hours, hours like days. No toys, no books. Shoes that don’t fit. A little shoe box with a few tattered shirts and pants was all they had to call their own. And the pride they took in caring for those little boxes, you’d think they were filled with gold.

We had to be creative to bring some structure and happiness into the home. This came in the form of daily activity sessions with the kids. We held English and baking lessons and health and geography classes. We held epic hangman tournaments and fierce sessions of musical chairs and Red Rover (now known in Zambia as the mistakenly dubbed “Land Rover” game). With the help of our trusty iPod we also brought music into the home. Hosting dance parties rivaling Disco Fever became a daily ritual, attracting kids from a two mile radius. Out on the front stoop in the heart of Central Africa, we raised a whole generation of Zambian kids to the beats of Laga Gaga and Boom Boom Pow.

We grew closer to the kids faster than we could have ever imagined. It didn’t take long before they opened their hearts to us, and heart-wrenching stories of disease, abuse and death soon followed.

“My father died of AIDS and my mum no longer wanted me.”
“My mother is dying of AIDS and we didn’t have any food to eat.”
“My father drowned and my mom stopped looking after me.”

Nothing prepares you for how to react to the children retelling their life stories. Some fight through tears others talk about their parents’ deaths as if recounting their day at school. You want to hold them, hug them, take it all away. You want them to forget it. You want to help them start a new. We felt helpless.

They craved our affection and seemed physically hungry for our love. We took turns bringing a child at a time into town. Each child had their day. We thought this would be a great way for the kids to get a little individual attention and I don’t think they could have enjoyed it more. On their day, the girls each spent hours combing their hair and dressing in their Sunday best. The boys ironed t-shirts and wore a smile from ear to ear as they walked hand in hand with us to town.

We found a little spot that served up chocolate milkshakes and we thought this would be the perfect treat for each child. We certainly weren’t trying to buy our way into their hearts, but we thought it would be a nice gesture for the kids. And well, maybe it was, maybe it wasn’t. We were acting out of love and for some of the kids this may have proved to be too much. Some had never ventured out of the village before and being in town now, in a little cafe, with well-to-do Mazabukans, a few seemed quite out of place. They held up the place-mat in wonderment and pointed inquisitively at the vase in the middle of the table filled with flowers. I could see their hearts tighten as they saw friends and schoolmates traipsing through town with their mothers and fathers. Though we tried to make them forget the pain, if only for a day, we knew the word orphan, resounding like a punch in the stomach or a dart in the heart, echoed still in their heads.

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On October 9, we’re hitting the pavement, running 26.2 for these kids. Hope you’ll consider making a donation to make their world a little bit brighter.

For more details on our efforts, click here.

Oz Kids Mazabuka Orphanage

Joseph’s story is one of sadness. Like so many of his now-brothers and sisters that we share a home with, Joseph has a troubled past. He came to the home after it was discovered he was being physically abused and purposely underfed at another orphanage. The caretakers there were posting photos of Joseph on the internet and extorting money from well-meaning Europeans and North Americans wishing to help a previously healthy, baby boy. That this occurred is troubling. That his case is one of many, and that the other children here have stories that make Joseph “lucky” is almost too hard to take.

Chipego or "Gift" in the local Tonga dialect

Witchraft. Murder. Betrayal. One or another child here has been affected or orphaned as a result of one of these. But all have been affected by sub-Saharan Africa’s biggest killer – AIDS. If not a mother or father who has contracted the HIV virus, then it’s an aunt, uncle, cousin or friend. Estimates state that in urban areas of Zambia, more than 30% of the population is HIV+. Think about that for a moment. 1 out of every 3 people you see or meet has HIV. So often we are bombarded by stats that it’s easy to become immune to the stories and sadness behind them. Now if you aren’t taken aback by this, here’s another one. The average life span in Zambia is 32 years.

"Catching up" on the front stoop

Changing time for Joseph = fun

This was our chance to give back, even if just a little (this begs the philosophical argument of altruism, I know). We were unsure what to expect. Laura had done the legwork and this opportunity seemed a good match for us. We would have the chance to work with children, something we both enjoy. And we’d be able to work AND live at the home. If we only were going to volunteer three weeks, we wanted an experience where we could contribute as much and as often as we were capable. We learned quickly that with this, there would be no escape or outlet, no boundary between work and what happens after work. We arrived anxious, hopeful and full of questions. Would they open up to us? Would they accept us? Could we possibly make a real impact in their lives in such a short period of time? Would they even want us to try? We’d soon find out.

On October 9, we’re hitting the pavement, running 26.2 for these kids. Hope you’ll consider making a donation to make their world a little bit brighter.

For more details on our efforts, click here.

Here are true tales from this Botswana journey.

Chobe Riverfront

Elephant parading down to the riverfront for a morning drink

By the time we made it to Chobe, we were pretty well-versed in our safari routine. Up at sunrise to pack up our home (our trusty rooftop tent), we threw down a cup of instant coffee and brushed our teeth under the trickle of our water bottles. It was then time to hit those dusty roads for the sparkling blue waters of the Chobe riverfront.

The morning game drive was a testament to what we’d already read. The area is home to some of Africa’s best game viewing and the density of wildlife is simply mind-boggling. We could hardly drive ten feet without some outstanding wildlife interaction. With each turn more elephants appeared in the horizon before parading down to the waterfront for an early-morning thirst quencher. The white-faced African Eagle stood guard on the tip-tops of trees and Lappet-Faced Vultures hovered overhead awaiting their turn to pounce. Herds of cantankerous zebras leapt inches from our car while statuesque kudus listened to our every word with their conch-shaped ears. Onto the carpet of green we found warthogs, gazelles, bushbucks and wildebeest with tails a waggin’ as they grazed peacefully aside massive Cape Buffalo. It was the greatest show on earth, the circle of life, all around us.

The captivating eyes of a leopard just feet above our car

And the grand finale? That was the leopard’s alone. Not one but two of the typically elusive leopards made a grand appearance in the final hour of our day at Chobe riverfront. Parking our car on the edge of the lush woodlands, we were about to get a lesson on the birds and the bees – feline-style. A male leopard encircling our car tried to catch the attention of his coy, female counterpart lounging on the sturdy branch of the sausage tree just feet above our car. Her ferocious hiss showed us who was in charge and informed us our birds and bees lesson was on hold, at least for now.

Linyanti

Settling into camp in remote Linyanti

Moving on from the well-trodden safari path of the Chobe riverfront, we headed to the area known as Linyanti. For better and worse, Linyanti is way off the beaten track. Out in the middle of the bush in the secluded northwest section of Chobe, there is no other sign of life here but the elephants and hippos who inhabit the area. These are the kind of places that always attract us, but, in this case, we learned we should have come a bit more prepared.

We arrived early afternoon to Linyanti to find the most pristine, unspoiled campsite in all of Southern Africa. We set up camp to the sound of baboons jumping overhead and warthogs snorting gleefully as they munched on the branches leftover from the elephants’ lunch. It wasn’t till late afternoon, however, when we realized these would be our only companions way out here in the bush. No other travelers had decided to brave the drive out to this remote area of the park so here we found ourselves miles away from any sign of human life.

By night, it was thrilling. We were completely on our own. We built a massive fire and cooked a feast before settling up in our rooftop tent. Wrapped up like sausages in our sleeping bags, we fell asleep to the sound of splashing hippos feet away while gazing up at a sky twinkling with a trillion stars.

The sand roads of Chobe, just begging for us to get stuck

But when we woke up, this was a different story. Twenty minutes into our drive back to civilization, we buried ourselves knee-deep in sand. We were out in the open, bait for the hundreds of animals lurking around with no choice but to dig ourselves out. Ryan spent all morning with shovel in hand while I was stood watch for approaching animals. As I mentally prepared myself for camping out in this area where we were told it might be days before another person might pass by to rescue us, Ryan’s new-found 4WD skills saved the day. We made it out of the sand, but this issue presented another problem. In trying to get ourselves out, we’d eaten up loads of gas and were running well on empty. But lo and behold, the angels of the bush must have been looking out for us. These angels came in the form of a caravan of boisterous and well-prepared South Africans with enough extra diesel to fuel a jetliner.

No phone, no GPS and rarely a sign of human life, we were quite naïve being way out here on our own. In Linyanti, it was clear we’d used up our nine lives.

Savute

It was time for the flat expanse of the park known as Savute. The scorching sun of the desert landscape and dead trees providing a limited amount of shade usually transform this place into a thirst-land for animals scrounging for water. We had high hopes of big game sightings in Savute, but instead what we got was a big storm and a surprise reunion with friends from the road.

The calm before the storm at Savute campsite

We’d met two French families during our journey through Namibia. We bonded quickly after learning they too were on similar year-long around the world trips (theirs with kids!). Because misery loves company, our mutual vehicle woes did even more to solidify the bond. We spent the day with our Frenchie pals rehashing bush tales around camp, only interrupted by elephants traipsing around our tents and the afternoon sun colliding with heavy rains.

Hiding from the rain on the tailgate of our car, we paid homage to our hometown on this Halloween night over cans of the classic Botswana brew, St. Louis Lager. Then it was time for one last rendezvous with our travel pals with burgers and baked beans cooked over a roaring fire.

Catching up at camp with our French travel pals

While this day was nearly devoid of game sightings, sharing this night with our Parisian friends was special in and of itself. Quitting our jobs to travel the world had many of our pals back home wondering if we might have a screw loose. It’s so refreshing on the road meeting people like this…who share the same thirst for adventure, who are looking for more out of life than the that nine to five gig and who are willing to take the risk to find it.

Out here in the middle of the African bush, we watched our new pals share these transformative experiences with their kids. And, well, it makes us pretty certain this isn’t the last time we embark on this sort of journey.

First stop on our Southern African 4×4 safari was the otherworldly and postcard-worthy sand dunes of Sossusvlei. Like many others I had begun to associate the entire country of Namibia with these impossibly beautiful giant dunes and the neighboring “Dead Vlei,” a crazy Dali-like formation of petrified trees creeping their way out of a salt flat in the middle of absolutely nowhere. When I picture Hell, this is what I see.

Here is a photographic run-down of our trip to Namibia’s finest attraction.

Sesriem

The drive to Sesriem (car problems withstanding) was incredible. Nowhere in the world had we driven so many miles without seeing a single person, not another vehicle, nor home, nor even a sign of life. The final stretch into Sesriem Canyon with the sun setting over the mountainous sand dunes was a picture of the reason why we came to Namibia. We arrived to our campsite after dark, which is when we discovered a very important problem with the vehicle: the lights didn’t work. Now, not only is it dangerous to drive at night but it’s extremely dangerous to drive at night with no lights!

We settled in quickly and set up camp. We broke bread (PB&J, really) and grabbed a hot shower to wash away the first day’s troubles. Then it was onto our mobile home and bed on the roof of the Land Rover. Camping out under the stars on our tent atop our car, in the middle of the desert, helped to assuage any misgivings I had about opting to travel independently.

Our second day in Sesriem we headed to the famous Sesriem Canyon, a narrow gorge splitting open the earth and running for a mile. The day was scorching hot and we would need plenty of water. The good news is that when you travel with your home your kitchen is never far away. We hiked through the canyon, taking in the desert views and appreciating the crazy rock formations. More interesting is the birdlife and many insects that can inhabit such a forbidding place.

In the late afternoon we headed to Elim Dune to watch the sunset over the Namibian valley. Watching the sun set over the valley floor atop the massive red dune was a serene sight. All around us were mountains of yellow sand glowing red in the fading light of just another day gone by. This was an image that had captured my curiosity from across the world and had drawn me right here to this very spot.

Sossusvlei

The true gem, however, and reason that so many people from around the world are drawn to this part of Africa is the area of Sossusvlei, 60km away from Sesriem. The massive sand dunes of Sossusvlei are best viewed at sunrise or sunset. We decided against our body clocks to start off our day at dawn the following morning.

We woke up early, packed up our rooftop tent in the dark, and headed to Dune 45, a magnificent-looking but poorly-named dune, you guessed it, 45km from Sesriem on the road to Sossusvlei. Hands down, this was one of the highlights of our year. When we arrived to the dune, the rising sun had split the dune in two: the eastern facing half basked in the morning sunlight and the western half cloaked in shadows, still awaiting its share of the sun.

We started up the dune ridge and were instantly entranced by the desert’s dual personality. On the dark side, the sand was cool and felt like I was putting my foot into a pool of cold water. On the bright side, the sand was scorching, even this early in the morning. This felt like my bare feet were being put into a frying pan. The trek to the top took about 40 minutes but the views were absolutely worth it. Taking in the opposite views from the sunset before from atop another sand dune, Laura and I couldn’t help but appreciate the ying and yang dichotomy that takes place here each day. We sat up there for almost an hour, watching the sun creep its way northward and begin to warm the day before we decided the time was right to slalom our way down the dune and head to Sossusvlei’s other otherworldly landmark – Dead Vlei.

We drove 15km to the Dead Vlei entrance. It was here that we’d first get to put our 4×4 gears to work. It’s a 5km drive through some seriously thick sand to get to Dead Vlei. All the 2×4 vehicles had to park their cars and 4×4 taxi their way there, but not us. Laura was rightly nervous, as I had no previous experience driving a 4×4 nor any vehicle through thick sand, but I was determined. We had rented a Land Rover for a reason I said.

So, I popped the newly-named Sand Lover into 4×4 and put it in second and began to wade the car through the sand. I say wading because that’s exactly what the car does. You give the car some gas and the momentum creates a quasi-wave that carries you through the sand. Several times I felt the vehicle begin to lose momentum and sputter so I had to throw it in first for a jolt and then back into second. This was nerve-racking but the sense of accomplishment a man feels when he reaches his destination is indescribable.

We made it to the entrance of Dead Vlei and began the arduous trek through already searing temps to Hell on Earth. The pictures here will do better than any description. We’ve been to many surreal destinations on this trip, but truly none more so than this place.

The experience of visiting Sossusvlei certainly met our insanely-hyped expectations and, alone, merited our visit to Namibia.

It was then onward and upward to the German town of Swakopmund where we would begin a legendary credit card dispute with our 4×4 rental company and find out the importance of being earnest.

Laura and I debated back and forth about the merits of doing our southern African tour independently and renting our own 4×4 or going with an overland tour operator. Both ideas had their plusses and minuses.

With an overland tour, the obvious plus is that you take planning out of the equation. Tour operators have traversed the continent many times and know where to go, when to go and what to see. The research has been done and you, as the client, can blindly follow along (for better or for worse). Overland tour groups come equipped with knowledgeable guides who can answer many questions and provide wonderful information on wildlife, flora and fauna. Also, an overland tour can significantly cut costs, especially for the lone independent traveler. Finally, and again important for the solo traveler, overland tours present opportunities to meet new friends. Our tour of Tibet, although absolutely terrible, allowed us to meet some great people, many of whom we still keep in touch with long after our tour.

The downside? Well, as someone who has done a few tours, I can say that the experience typically isn’t as enriching. It’s difficult after an entire year of independent travel to follow a schedule that someone else has put together for you. The best part of travel, especially long-term travel, is that you can take the time to see things at your own pace, lingering in the places you enjoy and hitting fast-forward through some parts that aren’t so great. There’s nothing worse than being herded around like a group of cattle when you’re years away from grade school.

This was enough to propel Laura and me to splurge and opt for a self-drive safari through southern Africa. We went back and forth many times, not because the decision was so tough but rather because the cost was so great for two meager backpackers. Our decision rested on the single question – When else will we have the freedom (no kids, no debt, etc.) and time to traverse this large swath of continent? Never. As such, we were going to do it the way we wanted to.

So, the upside of doing this 4×4 safari independently is simple – it’ a full-on experience where you can follow and change your itinerary on a whim and learn as much through osmosis as personal experience (both triumphs and failures).

There are so many downsides to self-drive tours it’s impossible to list them all, but here are a big few.

1. Car problems. I’m the furthest thing from a mechanic and the last place you want to be stuck is the Namibian outback. There’s plenty of it, too, with Namibia being the least densely populated country on the planet.
2. Costs. While a drawback, we did the math and it seems we paid only a small premium, to quote Fleetwood Mac, “go our own way.” In the end, I believe the experience we had far outweighed the cost.
3. No guide. As mentioned, overland tour guides can be very helpful so this was something we missed. However, we bought the very helpful Shell guide to Botswana and had a lot of fun learning about the different animals we were spotting along the way.

The biggest question one can ask them self after deciding between two things is if you were in a similar situation, would you do it again. Yes, we would. Absolutely, we would.

We had a lion’s share of car problems on our safari (yes, pun intended) but these were all part of our experience. I learned as much about 4×4 trucks as I did about wildlife. I am now an off-road driving expert, comfortable driving through feet of sand or water. I became a budding ornithologist and wildlife field guide with the help of several wildlife books we purchased. Also, we were able to experience more of Namibia and Botswana’s cultural aspects than we would have through the pre-packaged, bite-sized and sterile tourist interactions we normally have had on our group tours. Most important, Laura and I were able to skip the tourist traps, avoid big crowds and take our time in the places we enjoyed most. In the end, our southern African experience was exactly that – OUR own experience that can’t be found on the brochure of any tour operator.