37 FramesTrust, Intuition & the Magic of the Unscripted
📍Onduli Ridge > Etosha National Park
Leaving Magic Behind (But Taking It With Us)
It’s hard to describe the ache of leaving a place that changed you.
Onduli Ridge. Just three nights – that’s all. But somehow, it rearranged something inside us. A soul reset wrapped in starlight and giraffe silhouettes. The kind of experience you don’t just remember. You feel it. Forever.
And so, we lingered a little too long that morning. Saying goodbye to the kind staff who felt like old friends. To the ridgeline that glowed gold in the morning sun. To Shaanika, our quietly hilarious guide who turned sunsets into poetry and chicken tacos into fine dining. And to the quiet. That impossible, otherworldly quiet that only the desert knows. And we have to mention our butler, Jeckonia. And Albert. And pretty much a shout out to everyone who took such good care of us.
Then – back to reality. Which, in our case, meant ditching the luxury safari jeeps and squeezing back into our humble rental car. Dusty. Slightly crusty. With us navigating potholes and warthog-crossing signs for the five-hour journey north to Etosha National Park.
Etosha, Namibia’s crown jewel of wildlife
And there’s something about being here that makes you straighten up a little. Watch the horizon with your whole body. Recalibrate your senses. Respect the silence.
There are rules here. Written and unwritten.
- Stay in your vehicle.
- Trust your instincts.
- Don’t try to outrun a rhino. (Not that we tried. But still. Noted.)
And maybe that’s the deeper travel metaphor, right?
Sometimes the most profound experiences come not from knowing… but from observing.
From showing up and letting the world reveal itself. As the Etosha guide says, “don’t go looking for the animals. Let the animals come to you.” Here, on this vast stage of salt pans and silence, the animals write the script. You’re just lucky to be in the audience.
Etosha : Where the Ground Glistens and the Air Waits
A little background for those playing along at home:
Etosha means “Great White Place,” named for the vast salt pan that dominates the park — so large it can be seen from space. And while it may look barren at first glance, it’s anything but.
Today, we drove 5 hours from Damaraland to the north, across landscapes that flickered from dusty to dramatic in seconds.
We arrived late afternoon and literally as soon as we entered the park, we watched a tower of giraffes (yes, that’s the collective noun we’ve all learnt … you’re welcome), teeter across the road like runway models at golden hour.
We saw:
- Zebras shimmering in heat waves
- Springbok like an Olympic hopeful
- Kudus crossing the road with main character energy
- And wildebeest. (They get us.)
Every km, every sighting, felt like a new surprise.
You watch. You hope. You drive slowly. And sometimes, you get lucky. But Etosha doesn’t give it all away. You wait. You listen. You learn to read the pauses.
Which made what happened next feel like a gift.
The Waterhole at Dusk: A Lesson in Timing
As soon as we arrived at Okaukuejo Rest Camp… more than basic but beautifully placed… we made a beeline for the famous waterhole. Sunset hour.
We met a couple of Canadian travelers who gently warned us:
“It was pretty quiet here last night.”
And, like a perfectly timed punchline… Two rhinos stepped out of the shadows. Massive. Majestic. Their presence enough to hush the crowd.
Then, from the opposite side, giraffes approached delicately. Then zebras. But the rhinos weren’t feeling generous. Guardians of the waterhole, they refused to let them drink. There was tension. Theater. A full-blown National Geographic episode unfolding in real time.
Then… more shadows moved. The elephants arrived. Towering. Silent. Their tusks catching the last light. No one spoke. We didn’t need to.
We stayed until night fully draped the landscape. Letting every moment soak in.
Roadtrip Realness: The Unedited Version
Let’s not pretend the 5 hour drive was all elegant African safari and hushed awe. Not everything was a cinematic masterpiece. There were bumps.
- One of us spilled coffee all over the front seat before lunch.
- The map app got confused. So did we.
- We’re 85% certain a meerkat gave us side-eye.
But that’s the joy of a self-drive safari: you’re in it. Fully. The joy of the unscripted journey. It’s yours. Uneven, unfiltered, unforgettable.
It’s just you and the moment.
No buffer. No script. Just you, your camera, your snacks… and whatever decides to cross your path.
Camp Life, Stars & That One Jackal
Okaukuejo isn’t fancy. Like, AT ALL. We kind of wished we were staying down outside the park at Ongava with our Onduli friends. But then we really looked around at where we are and who was beside us. Who needs chandeliers when you have rhinos in the moonlight?
Tonight, we’re drinking dusty wine on a vintage wooden chair. Listening to jackals calling in the dark. We’re swatting a few persistent bugs. Laughing about how dusty we are.
And hold close the reminder:
Not every adventure needs polish. Sometimes it’s about chasing the unknown … and trusting yourself enough to always be amazed.
Takeaways from the Salt and the Silence
- Wildlife doesn’t care about your schedule.
- Wild things are all around us. The trick is slowing down enough to see them.
- Joy, like giraffes, is often awkward and elegant at once.
- And no, there’s no such thing as “just another elephant.”
Final Thought
Today wasn’t curated. It was real. A collision of raw nature and small car chaos. Of elegance remembered and wilderness embraced.
We left Onduli with full hearts. Entered Etosha with wide eyes.
And somewhere between the rhinos, the dust, and the silence… We remembered why we travel.
To be surprised.
To be humbled.
To see what the world does when we stop trying to control it.
📸 SO MANY Safari frames coming soon, rhino standoffs, giraffe stares, and sunset magic coming soon. Sand still in the lens. Worth it.
37 Frames
