37 FramesThe Long View | Legacy, Patience & the Beauty of the Unrushed
📍Etosha National Park
The Gift of the Long Game
Some places require patience.
Etosha demands it.
And not just the kind where you sit quietly waiting for a lion to stir.
It’s deeper than that … the kind of patience that feels like trust.
This vast stretch of northern Namibia doesn’t offer instant gratification. It offers something better… the art of the wait, the poetry of patience.
We were up well before sunrise, still riding high from the rhino-elephant-giraffe magic of last night’s waterhole.
Breakfast was basic … a buffet overseen by a chef channeling the Soup Nazi. Seconds were forbidden. Tensions were high. Seinfeld fans, you’d have appreciated the drama.
We lined up at the Okaukuejo camp gate, engines humming. At first light, the gates opened, and our Etosha game drive began.
Golden hour in Etosha is brief… maybe 30 minutes of that soft, ethereal light. After that, Namibia doesn’t care about flattering shadows. So you shoot quickly or forever hold your peace.
So we chose our direction carefully. East, toward Halali.
And just two minutes out the gate… giraffes in the morning glow. Ethereal silhouettes stretched against the waking sky. Bam.
Just us. Them. The kind of morning that makes your heart slow down to listen.
That early start gave us a head start over the more glamorous lodges outside the main entrance. So when we pulled up to the Gemsbokvlakte waterhole, it was just us, one other car, and the wild.
Then something in the tall grass caught our eye. A flicker. A glint. A maybe.
“Dee, scan that patch with the binocs.”
A pause. “Oh my god… I think they’re lions.” And they were.
We stayed three hours. Not moving. Just watching. Hoping.
They didn’t stand.
But the zebra, springbok, and giraffes that arrived to drink… knew. They sensed the stillness with breath held. The landscape was alive with tension.
Etosha whispers a quiet truth: In a world obsessed with now… there’s magic in not yet.
Legacy in Motion (and Dust in Our Teeth)
Driving through the Etosha salt pans, it’s hard to tell where the land ends and the sky begins. Space folds into itself. Roads stretch endlessly. And the dust writes its own legends.
We left the lions, slightly FOMO-ed, wondering what we might be missing elsewhere. Waterhole to waterhole, we moved, laughing at the zebras on the road (lots of zebra crossing jokes) and just letting the day shape us.
Every Namibia self-drive safari is a gamble. A gift. A guessing game. Every waterhole different. Every turn surprising.
We passed wildebeests embracing the wind, ostriches with attitude, and jackals with somewhere to be.
And then… along a lonely stretch of road… a cheetah and her cubs.
Close enough to see right into their eyes. Wild enough to remind us we were just visitors. It felt like we’d stumbled into something ancient. The Namibia we came for… and didn’t dare expect. Today was Big Cat Day. Etosha Edition. And we were front row.
We rolled into Halali for fuel. Plot twist: there wasn’t any. Apparently, park maps showing fuel stations are works of fiction.
Panic set in, briefly. We had enough petrol to get back to Okaukuejo… but not for another sunrise mission tomorrow.
So we made a tough call… leave and refuel outside the park, then race back in for golden hour.
Of course, this is when the real chaos began.
Back past our cheetahs. A stranger flagged us down: “You won’t believe this… a cheetah and cubs just made a kill up ahead!”
We didn’t mention we’d met them earlier. Or that we’d just missed the kill by minutes. Now 30 cars were bottlenecked around the scene.
We didn’t stop. We had our quiet. And we were chasing a different kind of light.
The Elephant Parade
Back at Gemsbokvlakte, the lions had moved slightly under a bush. So we let them be. Our morning with them was enough. But we thought if there was time after refuelling that we’d come and see them one last time.
But across the road, something stirred. Dee whispered, “The elephants are coming.”
Tiny specs on the horizon. A mirage at first. But through the camera lens … 840mm of pure magic … they appeared. A parade. Purposeful. Long loping strides.
We had been warned: elephants here don’t go around you. They go through you.
So we moved. Found a respectful perch at the waterhole. And waited.
They arrived. They drank. They bathed. They swam. One went fully underwater, trunk sticking out like a snorkel. They played like kids on vacation. And we forgot time existed.
But we had to go. Fuel. Sunset. Gates.
On the way out, a rhino trotted beside our car. What even was this day?
A Day Measured in Moments
We didn’t really chase anything today. We let it all come to us. We followed the road. The air. The signs.
It’s become our rhythm in Namibia… less control, more connection. More flow.
Because the truth is, the most magical moments aren’t forced.
And isn’t that true of so much in life?
- The best friendships aren’t scheduled.
- The most beautiful moments aren’t scripted.
- The real breakthroughs come when you stop pushing.
Etosha National Park reminds us of that. Every single dusty kilometer.
The Race to the Sunset Lions
Fuel topped up, we had one last shot: reach the lions by sunset.
Okaukuejo gates close at 6:35pm. It was already 5:30pm.
It would be tight. But we went for it.
Every other car was leaving. We were the only ones heading back in. The sky burned gold. The dust kicked up. And we drove.
Another rhino crossed the road. We whispered love and kept moving. (When did rhinos become so casually normal?)
The animals were everywhere in this beautiful light. But we had lions to catch.
And we did.
Just like we began the day… two cars, one moment.
The lions were back. Roadside. Silent. Regal. They were watching the sun go down… while we watched them.
And then they turned. And watched us. Windows up a little higher. Breath caught in our throats. And the world… stopped.
It felt like five hours. It was five minutes. That’s all we had. But it felt eternal.
The Final Dash, and the Dust that Glowed
The dust caught the sun and turned the whole world fuchsia. Almost unreal. Apocalyptic in beauty.
Shapes danced in the haze. Another rhino teased us from the corner of our eye. We tried to shoot out the window. But we pressed on. Couldn’t stop. The clock was ticking.
And then the camp gates.
Closed.
6:37pm. Two minutes late.
We looked at each other. Do we sleep with lions tonight?
But the guard looked up. Smiled. Opened the gate. “All good,” he said. “It’s hard to leave when the animals are talking to you.”
Yes. Yes it is.
The Night Ends with Peace
Back at the camp, the chalet was as rustic as ever. The shower still a relic. The charm still… minimal. (Anyone reading this… stay at Ongava if you don’t need early access to the park!!!)
The waterhole outside had given us so much the night before.
Tonight? Just shadows. Maybe a hyena. Maybe nothing.
We watched the live cam from bed, shoes by the door… ready to bolt outside should anything appear.
That’s kind of the point. Etosha isn’t about what you see. It’s about what you feel. What you remember long after.
We had come to Namibia for the landscapes. But we fell in love with the animals.
Takeaways from the Day the Light Turned Gold
- Patience is more than waiting … it’s trusting.
- You can’t rush wonder.
- Sometimes, the most magical thing is doing less and noticing more.
- The best experiences on an Etosha safari come when you slow down.
- And always, always… the animals are cooler than we are. Just accept it.
Final Thought
There’s a reason Etosha is the heart of so many Namibian journeys. It holds a kind of wisdom … the kind that sneaks up on you when you’re not looking.
Etosha isn’t just a place. It’s a story. A slow-burning love letter to the wild.
Today, we weren’t just driving through a park. We were moving through time. Through stories written in paw prints and dust trails. Through reminders that nature has already figured out the rhythm … we just need to listen.
And when we do? We remember who we are too.
Not just the people chasing adventure… But the ones learning to wait for it. To trust it’ll show up. Even if it takes all day.
And somewhere between lion glances and elephant parades… we remembered why it’s so important to travel.
Not just to capture the world. But to be changed by it.
37 Frames
