Glamping Review: Grootberg Lodge, Damaraland, Namibia

I had been told that the view from the award-winning Grootberg Lodge was spectacular, but when I got there it wasn’t. Granted, I arrived there in the dark of night after a dusk drive up Namibia’s Skeleton Coast — part of a custom itinerary organized for me by CW Safaris — and the non-descript patches of nature that I could make out in the near distance were only made visible from the short, confined beam of a flashlight.

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However, even without the view of the Klip River Valley yet visible, I was already impressed with this lodge on the edge of the Etendeka Plateau — particularly with its story. Unlike many safari lodges in Africa, Grootberg Lodge has been operated by the local community for almost two decades now, with over 95% of the staff coming from rural villages. This is part of the efforts of the ≠Khoadi //Hoas Conservancy, unifying two thousand local community members who not only operate the lodge and prepare the meals, but run the education and conservation programs to protect the region’s wildlife.

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With that said, some members of the conservancy know a thing about animals, especially the desert elephants of their Damaraland wilderness — in fact, “≠Khoadi //Hoas” in the local language of Khoekhoegowab translates to “elephant’s corner.” (The punctuation marks denote different click sounds.) Grootberg Lodge offers elephant tracking excursions for you to encounter them — with the caveat that there’s no guarantee of any actual sightings. Desert elephants are elusive after all.

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On the morning I set out to find one of the trunked beasts, I didn’t set my expectations too high. The group that had gone out the day before hadn’t encountered any pachyderm, even after a long day of searching. Driving around in a Land Cruiser, my guide looked for clues in the wild — footprints, the freshness of dung, and impressions in the shrub and trees — just as the guide did the day before without any luck. For a couple of hours, we drove around the desert, shrubs, and thickets — two hours seemed like an eternity without a sighting — until, around a bend, stood an old lone bull munching on a tree.

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Being only several yards away from him was a thrill, but my guide suspected he wasn’t alone and assured me that others had to be nearby. With a little more driving, we encountered the rest of the herd: young elephants, mothers with their babies, all getting in their morning routine and making their way across a valley. Driving in slowly and cautiously, we had quite an intimate experience with the herd from the safety inside our vehicle. In fact, a few curious elephants curled their trunks on our antenna, trying to play with a big, unusual metal creature.

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Close encounters weren’t exclusively animal affairs in Damaraland. For me, nothing could have been more intimate than watching an old tribal elder woman in a hut, “bathing” herself in incense. However, this was not an act of perverted voyeurism; it was part of another excursion you can arrange from the Grootberg Lodge, where guides bring guests to see how one of the few remaining traditional tribes around live: the Himbas. The incense, along with otjize — a natural all-body ointment made with ochre and butterfat — keep the tribespeople clean while protecting them from mosquitoes and the sun.

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Because of their nomadic behavior, the Himbas’ aren’t always in the same place, but fortunately venturing to them in a gas-powered vehicle can get you to wherever they relocated on foot. When stationary, the tribal community maintains their traditions: cattle farming, building shelters from mud and cattle dung, and their traditional attire and dance. The Himbas I visited performed their traditional dance for our group, which was like a Soul Train dance off. From my observations, the women dominated.

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With these tribal visits and tracking excursions for elephants — or rhinos if you wish — you’d think there was plenty enough for me to be impressed with at the Grootberg Lodge. However, back at base, when I gazed out from the veranda of my solar-powered hut with a comfortable bed, nothing beat the view of the Klip River Valley — that is, when it was finally illuminated by the sun. With a poolside view like that, it almost made me forget that there were excursions available.

Glamping Review: Cottar’s 1920s Camp, Near Masai Mara National Park, Kenya

When the chartered prop plane flew passed Kilimanjaro’s snowy peak, I knew that the adventure that comes standard with a safari in the Serengeti awaited. However, when my traveling companions and I landed on the grassy private airstrip at Cottar’s 1920s Camp just outside Kenya’s Masai Mara National Park, I realized that not only would it be an adventure, but a trip back in time.

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That’s because this luxury camp is a throwback to a golden age of safaris, when glamorous and camping need not be merged into the portmanteau glamping. Back then, high standards came with the territory; camping was simply “living out in the bush in style.” Cottar’s 1920s Camp delivers what its moniker implies: a high-end safari camp as it was in the early 20th century, when the Western World got wind of explorers’ tales in sub-Saharan Africa. It was Teddy Roosevelt’s tales that inspired one Charles Cottar to go to East Africa from America, and eventually move his family there in 1915 to establish a safari service — one that has endured for almost a century through his descendants — complete with the first American vehicles to grace the Kenyan countryside.

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A vintage Ford Model A (refitted with a modern Land Rover engine) picked us up, and the transport continued to be both spatial and seemingly temporal. We were welcomed at the main mess tent, which boasted an elegance of yesteryear with fine Oriental rugs, gramophones, old typewriters, and other antique tchotchkes. I felt like I should have packed a vintage pith helmet, but soon noticed some nearby for me to don. Meanwhile, the Kenyan staff sported red fezzes to complement their formal white uniforms, which seemed a little odd to me at first; in reality, we’re not actually in the old era of European imperialism — but I will admit, it did add to the charm.

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Game drives at Cottar’s were scheduled like most safari outfitters: early in the morning and near dusk, the optimal times to see wildlife on the move — or on the prowl, depending on its position on the food chain. Shaded, open-air Land Rovers (modern ones) drove us through Cottar’s own 6,000-acre private reserve and parts of Masai Mara National Park, to shoot the zebras, elephants, and multitude of antelopes with our cameras. The highlight was our chance lion encounter, and despite the sight of blood, we were enthralled as a pride munched down on a buffalo carcass merely 25 feet in front of us.

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Dining in the outdoors always provided a sense of awe. After one morning game drive, our guide drove us to a shaded area for a short hike, only to reveal a glamorous picnic set up in the bush — glam-nicking perhaps? — a moveable brunch staffed by a bartender and a chef manning a propane-powered omelet station. Sundowners at the end of an afternoon game drive weren’t as filling; in lieu of orange yolks in skillets was the giant one in the sky sinking down into the horizon, which exuded an unavoidable sense of awe while we sipped gin and tonics around a campfire.

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Suppers at Cottar’s 1920s Camp were something of a time paradox. Dining on multi-course meals featuring steaks, risotto, and red snapper worthy of a Michelin-rated restaurant were reminders that we were still in a modern time of rapid importation and refrigeration, despite the shadows our silverware being cast by the little flames atop old candelabras, and the ambient 1920s jazz. Although our wine-influenced dinner conversations amongst my fellow travelers were free-spirited, I believed we were dignitaries in a Hemingway novel.

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I felt quite dignified staying in one of the “standard” tents — which had fairly high standards of any era. The canvas enclosure was as spacious as a large hotel room, but felt larger in the daytime when the staff rolled up three of the walls to let the breeze pass over the antique wooden furniture and bed — a bed that was especially comfortable after I’d been startled and realized that the hot water bottle put under my comforter with the turndown service was not a hiding wild animal. The fourth wall was never broken for it led to the bathroom with plumbing for hot showers and an old-fashioned pull chain toilet.

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My tent was one sanctuary for the leisurely afternoons in camp. It was where the camp’s masseuse ported the spa experience with a massage table, and where I’d sit in a rocking chair on the shaded “porch” and gaze out at the Mara while sipping on a complimentary glass of sherry from the tent’s decanter. Swimming was also an option at the camp’s infinity pool. Its design may have been a flash-forward to the modern world, but “bush baths” in canvas tubs were alternatively available for those who wanted to relax in suds in a wilder, more old-fashioned way.

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The safari experience may have evolved over the decades in Kenya, but if you want to do it in vintage style, Cottar’s 1920s Camp successfully recreates the romance, elegance, and adventure of safari’s hey-day. As I donned a pith helmet from the mess tent and hopped in a vintage Ford, I realized that going on safari with Cottars 1920s Camp is more than glamping; it’s also glam-time travel.