Getting to Botswana and into Jao and Mombo Camps in the Okavango Delta in 2004 was not a cakewalk: First we flew from Germany to Rwanda to hike to mountain gorillas in the Virungas. From Kigali, we went with matatus to Lake Bunyonyi in the hills of southern Uganda, later to Kampala and on to Lake Nakuru in the Kenyan Rift Valley with its pink concert of a million flamingos. We survived then still dangerous Nairobbery, continued our journey by bush taxi to the elephant paradise of Amboseli National Park before crossing the border to Tanzania and finally gazing into the huge Ngorongoro Crater, the largest intact volcanic caldera in the world, filled with the amazing number of 25000 wild animals. So far so good.

On the road from the crater to Daressalam we narrowly escaped a huge mudslide burying almost the entire road. Luckily we made it to Tanzania’s capital. There, the biggest challenge lay ahead of us: A two-day train ride to Zambia in a train offering hardly more comfort than a banana train. We slept on the train floor bedded in our sleeping bags. Finally two days travel time were more of a wishful thinking since the engine of our train (Chinese made) broke down so the entire train trip took to more than 3 days. From Zambia we continued by minibus via Victoria Falls to Maun, gateway to the Okavango Delta.

After these hardships we did not really look like attending an opera ball. When we tried to check in for our private flight to the quite posh Jao Camp we could sense the check-in-attendant’s question marks: They? In this dirty attire?? Jao??? Luckily our passports convinced them to take us and we were whisked away into the wonder of Okavango. Since we had hoped to have timed our visit with the arrival of the floods , we were a bit disappointed to see the delta still almost dry. The floods originating from heavy rainfalls more than two thousand kilometers north in the Angolan highlands had not arrived yet. Jao Camp was entirely built on stilts with elevated walkways to safely connect the “tents” with the main area even when the delta was flooded. We walked to dinner while 5 meters or so beneath us a hippo slowly walked its way grunting.  At dinner we honestly felt a bit out of place at first since all other guests seemed to have arrived not by public transport but rather by their private plane: “will your pilot be waiting for you during Safaris or is he coming back in a few days?” Needkess yo say that our locomotive driver was not waiting for us.

The next day my wife and me could not believe our eyes as we woke up in a diffferent world. Overnight the floods had finally found their way into the delta and had turned it into a paradise of water, into the world’s largest inland delta. Where yesterday had been a huge dusty plain and  grasslands, there were suddenly hundreds of islands, some as big as New Jersey and others as small as a picnic blanket. Canals l, sometimes small and sometimes wild, but always magic, developped between the islands. Fan palms and baobabs were suddenly mirroring in the water, as was the deep azure of the sky. Similar to us who were taking a mokoro, a dugout canoe, instead of a game vehicle, the animals had to quickly adapt, too. In the midst of their mating period we found a male lion and his mating lady on two different islands, separated by a deep canal, exchanging gazes full of desire. During mating time lions mate 20 to 50 times a day. And now the two lovers were suddenly separated by the unexpected influx of water, lots of water. Lions, like all cats, usually don’t like to get wet. We watched in awe.

Carefully weighing his options, the male took to the water, his head fully erected to prevent his proud mane from getting wet, and swam gracefully to the other island and reunited with his mate.

Love can move mountains.