This article was first published June 29, 2025, at fieldethos.com.
Scattered across these United States are a string of mom and pop maintained drive through safaris. It’s actually not a bad business venture if you’ve got five or ten acres and a few miles’ worth of chain link in that it’s about as passive an income as can be had. Once your fence is built, all that’s really left to do is kick back and relax as soccer moms in minivans pay exorbitant entry fees and feed the llamas and emus that call the place home. You warn people to stay in their cars, of course, but you’re not terribly worried if they don’t.
That same drive through safari concept is popular in Africa, too, though admittedly, it requires more than just a few acres and a roll or two of chain link. South Africa’s Krueger National Park, for instance, covers some 7,500 square miles. The differences don’t end there, either. There are no llamas or emus in Kruger Park, not for long anyway, and no warnings are needed to stay in the car.
Africa can kill you more ways than you can count, and stepping out of your vehicle in Krueger National Park is akin to signing your own death sentence. Linger too long with your luggage, and you’re liable to disappear in a lion’s embrace or a crocodile’s kiss. Get out to change a flat tire, and you could be flattened by a buffalo or bitten by an adder. For that matter, sitting safely within the confines of your car in Krueger National Park can kill you just as dead. Photographs hang in every building in the park showing how easily an elephant can wrap a truck around a tree.
All of which really sucked, because I had never needed to pee so bad in all my life.
Africa’s magic was being lost on me as I fought an inner battle with my bladder. When I finally did make it to what passes for a rest stop in Krueger Park, a squat, cinderblock building situated on the edge of a floodplain, I had just enough sense and self control left to look both ways before I bolted for the bathroom. Water draws wildlife, and this waterhole was covered in it. Zebra and impala, warthog and wildebeest. All kinds of antelopes and a whole herd of camera strapped tourists. Nothing too dangerous there. Taking one last look around, I eased out of the Land Cruiser and headed for the head.
I had nearly made it to the safety of the cinderblock and the sweet relief of a long awaited leak when I spotted the swishing tail of a cape buffalo. A dozen or so dugga boys were milling around behind the building, chewing their cud and staring daggers at me. I nearly wet my pants on the spot. I immediately veered left to place that herd of tourists between me and the bathroom and hurried through the door.
The rest of my time in Krueger was a dream.
Turns out, I was right to be cautious, though not about the cape buffalo. I’d been stateside for a week when I saw a headline on the front page of a world news website’s that grabbed my attention. Below the headline was the picture of a familiar looking cinderblock bathroom squatting on the edge of a floodplain. Just days after I’d left Krueger, a camera strapped tourist had been killed at the very spot, not trampled by a buffalo but bitten in half by a hippopotamus.
I sure hope the poor guy got to pee before it happened.
Wright Outdoors 