Safari Myth Busting with Ariel

I hear this one all the time.

The Great Migration isn’t a single event you either catch or miss. It’s a continuous, year-round movement of wildebeest and zebra, driven by rainfall and fresh grazing.

What people usually picture — dramatic river crossings — happens only at certain times and places, and even then it’s unpredictable. Some years there are many crossings. Some years very few.

The more useful question isn’t “Will we see the Migration?” It’s “What kind of behaviour do we want to experience — calving, large herds, predators, or movement?”

There’s no single perfect moment — just different experiences at different times.

This myth usually comes from equating “Migration” with “wildlife.”

In reality, only some species migrate. Many animals — especially predators — are territorial and present year-round.

When the herds move on, the ecosystem doesn’t empty out. What changes is the rhythm: sightings may be quieter, more intimate, and sometimes even better for predator behaviour.

A safari outside peak Migration periods isn’t a consolation prize. It’s simply a different chapter of the same story.

This is a very natural assumption — and a very misleading one.

Entry requirements exist to protect countries, not individual travellers. They are administrative rules, not medical advice.

Medical risk depends on where you’re going, the season, how you’re travelling, and your personal health profile — not whether someone checks a certificate at the airport.

That’s why I always encourage travellers to speak with a qualified travel doctor. Border rules and personal health decisions are two very different things.

You’ll often hear malaria described as “treatable,” which can sound reassuring.

What that phrase doesn’t convey is how serious — and unpleasant — malaria can be. Treatment reduces mortality, but it doesn’t make the illness mild or easy.

Prevention is straightforward. The consequences of infection are not.

Malaria risk can be managed very effectively — but it should never be shrugged off.

Private reserves are often marketed as more controlled, which can make them sound safer.

In practice, guest safety is managed in very similar ways everywhere: professional guiding, clear protocols, communication, and guest behaviour.

Fences usually exist to protect wildlife from people — not people from wildlife.

Safety comes from systems and experience, not from whether land is public or private.

Reviews feel objective — but safari suitability is deeply personal.

A lodge can be excellent and still be wrong for you. Pace, remoteness, guiding style, daily rhythm, and comfort preferences matter more than averages.

The best lodge isn’t the one with the highest rating. It’s the one aligned with what you actually want from your safari.

A small number of negative reviews can look alarming — especially online.

In safari travel, many negative reviews come from expectation gaps rather than poor execution. Someone wanting polished luxury will experience a rustic camp very differently from someone seeking immersion.

The key isn’t counting negative reviews. It’s understanding what disappointed that person — and whether it would matter to you.

Friend recommendations are genuine — and still incomplete.

Two people can have the same safari and walk away feeling very differently. What matters is why they loved it: pace, comfort, wildlife density, photography, or atmosphere.

Your friend’s best safari was real. Your best safari should be designed around you.

Authenticity isn’t measured by discomfort.

It comes from where you are, who guides you, and how connected you feel to the landscape. Comfort can actually support immersion by reducing friction and fatigue.

The goal is balance — not hardship, and not cocooning.

Location sets the stage — but it doesn’t run the performance.

The single biggest factor in a great game drive is the guide: their experience, judgement, patience, and ability to read what’s happening around them.

Two vehicles in the same place at the same time can have completely different experiences.

This fear usually comes from unfamiliarity and headlines.

In reality, safari travel is carefully designed to manage risk through logistics, trusted partners, conservative decision-making, and constant communication.

You don’t need insider knowledge. You need good planning.

Famous names dominate conversations — but they aren’t defaults.

The best first safari depends on your expectations, comfort with remoteness, pace, and what you imagine when you picture being on safari.

Great first safaris exist well beyond the most famous labels.

Variety sounds efficient — but borders cost time and energy.

Depth comes from staying put long enough to find a rhythm, understand a landscape, and let the experience unfold.

More places doesn’t always mean more experience.