Spotting stripes: A father-daughter adventure through Botswana

Written by Dom Tulett
Published 1 September 2025
Read the full article in Issue 8 of The Explorer magazine

I had tried to manage my nine-year-old daughter’s expectations ahead of our trip to Zimbabwe and Botswana. I told Heidi we would see a waterfall “a little bigger than the ones we saw in Fort William two summers back”.

I told her that a safari was a bit like going to the zoo, “But there aren’t any fences, so the animals can walk around wherever they like.”

“What animals will we see?”

“If we’re lucky,” I teased through a straight face, “We might see a zebra.”

The idea caught Heidi’s imagination; one she held onto all the way to Africa. A zebra. One actual, real-life zebra.

This was to be our first major trip for just the two of us. We’d taken a couple of European city breaks together, but those are almost over before they’ve begun, rushing through flights, scrambling across heaving itineraries – nothing like this solid fortnight of father-and-daughter time.

“But I won’t know anyone,” Heidi had worried when I told her it was a group tour.

“You’ll know me,” I said. Before long she also knew Anna, Sophie and Freya, girls of similar ages from other families on our tour. We had all met for the first time at dinner on the opening night in our guesthouse at Victoria Falls.

The following day we walked the length of the falls (a little bigger than those we had seen in Fort William) on the Zimbabwean side, a mile and more of trails with viewpoints over the chasm.

There were no zebras at the falls – nor did we expect there to be – but Heidi didn’t care as she skipped along with her new-found friends, gasping as they peered over the hundred-metre drop, shrieking as they got soaked by spray from the cascading waters.

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Onto Chobe National Park, home to great migrating herds of wildlife. I had hoped this would be where Heidi would see her zebra; however, none made their presence known to us, presumably too busy migrating elsewhere.

We were however treated to our first encounters with some of the safari’s headline acts: giant elephants lumbering down to the river to drink; curious giraffes inspecting the treetops for the tastiest leaves; majestic lions arrogantly padding the trails, completely indifferent to our presence.

Heidi’s eyes lit up at each new sighting, even though none were striped in black and white. I was the only solo parent on the tour but had been quickly adopted by the other grownups.

Travel stories and bottles of wine became our social currency, whilst the girls bonded over a shared love of hotel swimming pools and abysmal animal impressions. I looked on, happy that she had made friends, that she’d forgotten any reservations she had about going away for so long with strangers.

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Though I lost Heidi to the girls during the days, the evenings were my time. Most nights everyone retired early in preparation for pre-dawn game drives. Heidi would remain a fizzing ball of energy as we climbed into our beds, telling me everything the girls had seen and said and done. I knew all this already, of course – I was there – but I listened with enthusiastic ears.

“What was your best bit?” I asked her every night, and we would share personal highlights. Heading southwest we reached the sprawling water world of the Okavango Delta. Our home for the next two days was a traditional houseboat, on which Heidi helped plan an impromptu birthday party for one of her new friends.

We spent days zipping along the channels in a small motorboat, swerving around pods of hippos, gliding past crocodiles sunbathing at the water’s edge. At Tsodilo Hills, one of Africa’s most important and impressive rock art sites, I hung back with the other parents as the girls walked ahead together. Our guide showed us ancient paintings – including one of a zebra – daubed in red on the granite walls and told us stories of how his ancestors lived around the rock.

“What was your best bit?” There was never just one answer; how could there be?

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Across the fortnight Heidi had ranked so many moments: finding the hyena’s footprints in our campsite; toasting the marshmallows; the elephant’s skull; buying bracelets for her new friends; the leopard climbing the tree; pancakes for breakfast; the giraffe peering into our lodge; the diving competition at the pool; lions blocking the trail; the abandoned tortoise shell; crossing the waterhole in the jeep; sleeping in a hotel; sleeping on a boat; sleeping in a tent. Each answer a victory.

Our final stop was the Moremi Game Reserve, a vast expanse of grassland, forest and waterways, where we bumped along dusty tracks in search of the ‘Big Five’. And zebras.

We saw more of what we had spotted in Chobe, plus rare African wild dogs, scampering honey badgers, armies of buffalo and endless species of antelope. We drove and stopped, drove and stopped. False alarms and antelopes. Pausing at the forest’s edge, we peered into the sheltered space. The canopy of leaves filtered the afternoon glare, creating pipes of sunlight and hollows of shade amongst the trees.

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We stared hard, trying to make out what our driver had seen hidden in the lines of darkness and light. A swish of a tail gave them away. Heidi’s hand grabbed mine, squeezed it tighter than she ever has.

“A zebra! No, two. Five. Loads. Hundreds!” With the elation of Heidi’s first zebra sighting fresh in her mind we rumbled on to our campsite in a small copse of trees. No fences to keep the animals out, just a campfire as deterrent to prowling predators.

One of the girls wanted to play hide-and-seek; I advised against it. Instead, we sat around the fire, enjoying a bush-cooked dinner as the setting sun bled golden light across the horizon. With the Milky Way turning above us, we retreated to our tents, leaving the night to the wildlife.

“What was your best bit?” Silence in the darkness. I desperately wanted Heidi to say that spending a fortnight away with me was the best bit, but true stories are rarely that neat. In any case, I knew she was having a brilliant time, as was I. No need to labour that. And she confirmed her happiness to me when she broke the silence and simply said, “The zebras.”

Dom Tulett is an award-winning travel writer for National Geographic Traveller, The Sunday Times, The Independent and many more. Want to follow in Dom and Heidi’s footsteps? They travelled on our 12-day Family Botswana and Zimbabwe Safari Adventure.