On the ground in the wild – three days at Explore

My journey started with a thrice-delayed flight from Cape Town to Nairobi, with just enough time for breakfast and a power nap. Followed by another flight from Nairobi to Kilimanjaro, and a pitch-black drive along bumpy roads whose eroded edges reminded me of a riverbank. That night, I slept under mosquito nets for the first time in months. Each glimpse of wilder living fuelled my excitement, propelling me out of bed early to make the final Grumeti Air flight to Sasakwa Airstrip.

In those 45 minutes, we left civilisation far behind, flew over the yawning Ngorongoro Crater and magnificent Ol Donyo, the glistening Lake Manyara, and seemingly endless golden plains. The cab was half empty, and those I shared it with stared silently out their windows, slowly realising how big the world really is. Or maybe it was just me.

When I landed, it was a long drive past all Singita’s other properties in the Grumeti Reserve — further and deeper into the wilderness, along winding dirt and gravel roads, where, camouflaged amongst Balanites and desert date trees, we eventually came upon Explore.

I stepped out of the vehicle a short distance from the camp and walked to a warm welcome, the earth crunching beneath every step. Drowsy from the heat and struck by how surreal it was to be here, I spun circles along the way, marvelling at the herds of wildebeest and zebra just metres away, the kopjes rising mysteriously in the distance, the profound silence, interrupted only by sporadic chirps and clicks.

Comprising six guest tents, a main tent for dining, and a central firepit lined with deep chairs, Explore is a simple offering, but beautiful. Unassuming, and right where I wanted to be. A private, pared-back experience that harkened true wilderness camping — but done at a Singita standard.

I soon settled under the shade of an awning, the breeze offering a relief sweeter than air conditioning. And just sat, looking out over the plains, noticing their subtle movements. An afternoon game drive showed me what hundreds of thousands of animals look like. Because the rains hadn’t come, and our concession held the last remaining water sources, the game remained. Sightings were incredible — prides of lion, 20 strong, enormous herds of antelope, and eagles soaring high above.

“But you see the leaves of the trees are all green,” said Gracious, my guide. “They know the rain is coming before we do, and when the land is dry, but the leaves are green, it will be here soon.” When they arrived, the Great Migration would continue its age-old circuit, and the land would thunder with life again.

I returned to a roaring fire. The chefs were grilling meat and preparing hearty, traditional dishes over its open flame. Well-fed, eyelids heavy, our conversation faded into the night. All that was left to do was ponder embers and star-filled skies.

My tent was lit by amber lanterns. My bed was soft and comfortable. Wildlife called from the dark beyond camp, but a guard’s steady footfall reassured me, and I drifted into a deep and restful sleep.

In the morning, I was gently awakened by a human voice, reminding me that the sun had risen and my bucket shower was ready. I pulled a lever to turn the warm water on and off. After that, we set out on a bush walk, casting wide circles around the herds, which rested in the shade of every tree. Along the way, my guides told me about different types of weaver’s nests and recounted stories of snakes they found in tree stumps, like we were old friends. They showed me paths elephants often walked and taught me how to greet and order food in Swahili.

The rest of that day was spent in camp, poring over books and maps from the region, scribbling notes, watching, thinking, resting. Birdsong filled the in-between moments, and I was free to walk around, admiring the termite mounds that grew upwards in interesting silhouettes. Always, the only barrier between me and the wild was canvas.

I spent another day and night here, and I’ve been craving the same freedom ever since.