The journey to Botswana’s legendary Mashatu Game Reserve was born from a moment of inspired divergence. While my wife planned for an adventurous equestrian safari, a simple question, while reading the book Long Way Down by Ewan McGregor and Charley Boorman, sparked a corresponding mountain biking adventure. This set the stage for two separate but parallel odysseys sharing one incredible African backdrop. Following a necessary but brief stopover in South Africa — where in Pretoria, the arresting purple bloom of the jacarandas provided a vivid counterpoint to the region’s raw power, before an intimate walk with elephants at a local sanctuary left us in quiet awe — we arrived in the bush. The dual nature of the safari immediately became apparent: the equestrians blended into the landscape atop horses, while on my mountain bike, I was a distinctly vulnerable, two-wheeled guest, forcing an acute, profound awareness of every movement and every sight.

Our passage across the game reserve was defined by the three camps—from the comforting amenities of Two Mashatu to the coolest treehouse ever at Tree Camp and finally the exposed, primal feeling of the traditional log enclosure of Kgotla. The core of the adventure lay not in adrenaline, but in the intense intentionality of our travel, where every silent pedal stroke became an act of respect for the environment. This necessitated an absolute reliance on my guides, Max and Elliot, whose competence served as the thin line between thrill and peril.

Our most profound moments involved the predators: a chilling, deliberate retreat from two lions on a dry riverbank, and the chaotic humor of surprising an enraged elephant that charged our vehicle during an evening game drive before retreating. These encounters underscored the constant need for quiet communication and unwavering awareness of the environment.

The deep connection forged was not only with the vast, untamed landscape, but also with my guides, in a beautiful exchange of knowledge and passion. This was intentional, peaceful navigation of the bush, where covering 20 – 25 km a day on worn equipment became a physical meditation. For the most part this was not a highly technical mountain bike ride; it was an experience of full immersion. On the flight home, reading Peter Allison’s safari guide memoir, the trip crystallized into something more than a vacation—it became a perspective-shifting experience. It implanted a life-altering question about a deeper calling to the wild, fundamentally changing my approach to travel, which is now a search for places where the simple act of pedaling can make one feel both utterly humble and fiercely alive.

The Botswana Series: What’s Next This overview is just the start. Over the next few weeks, I’ll be breaking down the specifics logistics and tactical details of the trip. Upcoming posts will cover:

• The Rig: Why using a moderately worn out rental bike added to the adventure and maintenance tips to keep things running.
• The Logistics: How to prepare and pack for a trip like this.
• The Mindset: How the right mindset can make a trip like this truly transformational.

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