Gliding between the water lilies on a warm afternoon, sitting in a low mokoro canoe navigating the channels of papyrus and reeds through the Okavango Delta - this boat ride was, as the brochure promised, infinitely relaxing. At least, it was until a crocodile shot out of the water from underneath us, just inches away from my right knee.
I jumped out of my seat; in a flash of dark green scales the croc disappeared into the reeds. Domingo, the mokoro boatsman, shook his head gravely. "Don't jump out of the boat when you see a crocodile." It was, I tried to explain, unintended. Domingo said it was only a small crocodile, two metres, so there was no need to worry; only the big ones would actively attack a canoe.
I sat in silence for some time. "What happens if a big one attacks?"
"I have a knife."
In fact, it transpired that the major cause for concern is hippos, the Routemasters of the Delta, which can simply barge anything out of their way. I was finding it increasingly difficult to concentrate on the waterlilies.
"Sometimes, you can beat hippos away with the pole," remarked Domingo, pointing out the hippo path we were crossing. "But they are very big."
It was perhaps good to be shaken out of my complacency. At first sight, Shinde camp, on the northern end of the Okavango Delta, had looked almost too smart to be wild. As we approached through the mown grass of a firebreak, the female staff had gathered to sing what I was assured was a traditional Setswana song of welcome, making me feel briefly like Prince Philip, but without the urge to insult anyone.
The central feature of Shinde, a member of the Classics group of luxury camps, is an elaborate construction of wooden tiers built among the trees: a living area that includes an al-fresco lounge, dining room, study and viewing platform. The sleeping quarters are spacious tents, which sit on platforms and have such un-tentlike features as wooden floorboards, ceiling fans and en-suite bathrooms. A second, smaller dining area overlooks the water. Here, we ate what I suspected wasn't traditional bush cuisine, comprising aperitifs, three great courses, plus cheeseboard, all stylishly announced by the chef.
It would have been churlish to object to such comforts - and in truth I was soon very glad of them. Out here it was easy to feel rather small and vulnerable as first black clouds and then enormous, sky-filling bolts of lightning and torrential rain rolled across, like a last shout of the rainy season.
The next morning, a humble, nerve-frazzled man, I tried the mokoro again. Traditionally these boats, a cross between a canoe and a punt, were made from a hollowed-out tree by native bushmen, but on safari you'll generally get a fibreglass number - more sustainable and good news for Botswana's few trees. Flat-bottomed, they can pass in channels of water inches deep, which is about the level in places now - even though the rainy season has just ended, the Delta is produced by flood water that originates far from the north in Angola and takes months to arrive.
And, as far as I could, I did relax. The mokoro experience is about the little things: darting birds, brightly coloured frogs, grasshoppers mating, that kind of thing. You're drifting slowly on glistening water, in the kind of tranquillity that only a recent near miss with a croc can undermine. Bright dragonflies of various colours flitted around. Waterberries were sprouting up; I nibbled half of one dubiously, after first making Domingo eat three.
After making our way through the channels, we pulled in at little islands, checking for elephants. We trod carefully after finding large piles of fresh dung. Monkeys swung in the trees, and a large brown bird perched: Pel's fishing owl, I was told, a sighting that meant little to me at the time but which provoked cries of envy at the dining table that night.
To be honest, the boat didn't have the appeal of the game drives, being for me a curious combination of meandering through pretty scenery while suppressing intense hippo-based paranoia. In fact, according to Chris McIntyre in his Bradt guide to Botswana, a professional mokoro trip should be as safe as a jeep drive, but I couldn't help fearing an aquatic mugging at any moment.
But in conversation later I came to realise that I may have unjustly maligned my mokoro rides, having been largely underwhelmed when Domingo not once, not twice, but three times got me within sight of the elusive sitatunga. These extremely timid little antelopes live in the water, can swim on demand and like to hop around in reed beds. As a complete ignoramus, I'd thought little of a stray deer in a pool; but my new bush companions couldn't have been more impressed if I'd seen Elvis paddling his own canoe. "You're a very lucky man," said Robin, a silver-haired, bronzed and worldly photographer, before embarking on a story about an aardvark.
Chastened, I read a book from the lodge called Okavango Delta: Jewel of the Kalahari, which explained that I had seen the best thing in the best part of the most famous desert in southern Africa, and seen it three times while worrying needlessly about marauding hippos. But Stuart, a driving instructor from Glasgow, had at the same time been watching lion cubs kill a lechwe, and I felt a bit jealous.
I think to appreciate the waterways of the Delta fully, you have to be a bit more of a connoisseur, which in all fairness I wasn't. For first-timers, you've got to start with big stuff.
The good news is that there is plenty of big stuff at Shinde. Even as I came in from the airstrip, I saw a lion, and on a jeep tour, a whole pride of males, females and cubs. Another drive gave the moving view of a lion suckling her two babies; impala herds, five kudu including a magnificent stag, a jackal and six elephants at the same small water hole; and a leopard stalking two tsessebe. Even round the camp there were signs of hippo coming through.
This is a great attraction of the Okavango Delta: as well as pulling in abundant game, especially later in the season, water gives a totally different experience if you do want some variety from dry land safaris. You can take your pick from jeep rides, walks or fishing (tiger fish are plentiful); guests at Shinde can pretty much design their own itinerary.
The other way down the waterways is in a power boat. As our boat weaved in among the channels, we marvelled at the facility of the guides somehow to navigate their way through a maze of reeds - and to spot and slow down for us to see darter birds diving underwater for fish, or a chameleon on a lily pad. A mokoro, whatever its other qualities, doesn't live in the fast lane. The high speed boats take you out to the big, wide lagoons where you can watch hippos bathe. And crocs too - at a comfortable distance.
Way to go
· Gwyn Topham travelled to Botswana with Sunvil Africa and Classic Safari Camps of Africa. For reservations, telephone: 020 8232 9777. For information on other Classic Safari Camps, please contact classics@classicsafaricamps.com.
He stayed at the Shinde Camp. Shinde is run by Ker & Downey, PO Box 27, Maun, Botswana, tel: +267 686 0375.
The camp is reached by light aircraft from Maun in Botswana. International flights to Maun from Johannesburg are operated by Air Botswana, tel: +267 305500.
