Dress Boots

Old Gringo
Eye candy for Western fashionistas, these Southwest-inspired Old Gringo Lakota boots are hand-embroidered with a 4-inch toe and a 1-inch heel. Ernie Tarut (the “old gringo”) founded the company in 2000, after 30 yearsof leather manufacturing experience, and partnered with Yan Ferry and his 30 years of European design and boot-making experience. These handmade boots are not your average cowboy kicks.Best for: Cattle Baron’s Ball; $570, oldgringoboots.com

Lucchese
Sam Lucchese, the founder of Lucchese Boot Company, began in San Antonio, Texas, in 1883, first making boots for the U.S. Cavalry, and all the company’s boots are still made in the U.S.A. Brass studs like the ones on these Lucchese Style M5705 dress boots have popped up everywhere from runways to cowgirls’ tack. The hand-tooled overlay on the camel tumbled aspen vamp and quarter shows subtle Western flair, and the classic comfort of Lucchese is upheld with a soft
leather lining. Best for: PRCA Ladies’Luncheon and Fashion Show; $440, lucchese.com

Justin
It doesn’t get much more exotic than elephant hide. Justin’s AQHA Remuda Series (Style #8555) uses cognac safari elephant hide with 13-inch brown Jurassic goat tops for a boot that would hold up to cowboying from the African savannah to the American plains. The broad square toe is an all-business look that’s currently “in.” Justin’s J-Flex Comfort System features a leather-covered cushioned insole and triple-density insole board, giving them an already broken-in feel. Best for: The high roller suite; $410, justinboots.com

Corral
Can you tell our editors are into the wingtip style right now? Corral nails it with the black and bronze lizard hide in a square-toe in Style A1418. The black and brown leather makes this the perfect boot to go with any color suit (or black or brown felt hats), and the 1-inch heel is comfortable for walking to and from business meetings. Corral is known for well-crafted soles that fit like gloves from day one. These boots don’t disappoint. Best for: The boardroom; $322, corralboots.com

I would want to go on an African safari and see the wild animals that I love—especially lions!
Meghan Katherine Cline, Massachusetts

I'd definitely go to the 2012 Olympics! I've always wanted to attend the Olympic Equestrian Games and see my idols compete. It'd be just absolutely amazing to be in a place with so many incredibly talented horse people! That's more of a chance of a lifetime than a vacation, but I can't pick anything else.
Kaitlynn Wallace, via Facebook

Ireland, hands down.
Joyce Harrison, Ohio

I would love to go to Ireland or follow in my trainer’s footsteps and travel Europe to continue my riding education and learn EVERYTHING there is to know about horses!
Lisa Ryan, New Jersey

I would love to ride in Ireland. I’ve never been, but the scenery is amazing and the equestrian culture is even better than it is here in Virginia.
Lindsay Berreth, Virginia

I would go to England and ride. I would go on trail rides in the countryside because the saddles fit the horses, they have good tack, and the horses are nice and are local to the area: Highland “pony” in Scotland, Dartmoor pony when riding on Dartmoor. I would take lessons from John Lassetter and Jennie Loriston- Clarke because they offer everything a person could ask for in a lesson. Their schoolmasters are fantastic. At Jennie Loriston-Clarke’s I rode Catherston Dazzler. Yes, the top sire of eventing horses in the world (at the time of my lesson) and Jennie’s ex- Grand Prix horse. And I rode a piaffe that was show quality. I was so excited! I never hoped to ever ride a piaffe in my life and I did it! Amazing! After seeing in the mirror that was show quality (not just a shuffling of feet) and not what you see now that passes as piaffe, but the true, piaffe. I am still excited about it.

Also, another reason for riding with Jennie Loriston-Clark and John Lassetter is that I will be riding the “correct” classical dressage... not what passes for dressage that is seen in the ring now. Not only were the lessons fantastic, they were reasonable... if you think $100 (40 pounds) reasonable to ride with people that have top credentials (Spanish Riding School, Saumer, gold in dressage, etc.) and on top of that they were really nice people. The people in the yard were really nice. And I won’t talk about the countryside. Huge old trees, history everywhere, grass, good footing. Ok, so I have had my ideal riding holiday... I would do it again tomorrow. Trail riding and dressage lessons in England, that is my ideal riding holiday.
Barbara Kinsey, British Columbia

My dream has always been to go to all three Triple Crown races in one year. It would be perfect if there were a Triple Crown winner, too!
Jaye Fisher, Alberta

Through the highlands of Scotland!
Linda Frost Alvey, Ohio

I would love to trade my California for a riding adventure in Spain or Portugal. I love those Baroque horses!
Liv Gude, California

Riding a beautiful Spanish horse on the beach in Andalusia.
Edee Weigel, Montana

We’d take our horses to Jackson Hole, Wyoming, and camp with them along the trail.
Renelle Devenport Cadena, Texas

I’d love to take a riding vacation in Canada for 5–7 days and ride through the mountains!
Madelynn E. Hamilton, California

I would choose Ireland. It is one of the big horse countries in the world, and I would love taking a trail ride to see the castles, beaches and wild ponies.
Dee Sousa, Illinois

I had the opportunity to visit the Cadre Noir in Saumur, France, but at the time, I did not fully appreciate its significance. I would love to return to visit and ride there and through the French countryside. I’ve always loved that Cadre Noir includes Thoroughbreds among their horses, performing high-level dressage and other pursuits.
Laury Marshall Parramore, Maryland

Read more answers to this question in the February 2012 issue of Practical Horseman magazine.

Destination: The Masai Mara National Reserve, the largest reserve in southwest Kenya. The reserve is famous for its Great Migration from the Serengeti in Tanzania to the Mara from July to October. Migrating wildlife includes big cats, zebras, Thomson’s gazelle, eland, and wildebeests. Year-round residents of the Masai Mara National Reserve include elephant, impala, African buffalo, Grant’s gazelle, giraffe, topi, warthog, and waterbuck.

Riding-tour operator: Offbeat Safaris, which offers a specialized riding program for equestrians who want a unique African safari experience.

Accommodations: Home base is Deloraine Estate, the home of Offbeat Safaris founders, Tristan and Cindy Voorspuy. (See below.) It’s located on the western edge of the Great Rift Valley on the lower slopes of Mount Londiani. Built by Lord Francis Scott in 1920 and set in 3,500 acres of farm, it’s a fine example of Kenya’s colonial architecture, reflecting the elegant lifestyle of a bygone era.

Hosts: The Voorspuys. Tristan has led safaris in Africa since the early 1980s; his knowledge and experience of Africa and its wildlife have led to him being chosen as one Kenya’s honorary Game Wardens. He has a deep understanding of the interaction between wildlife and man on horseback.

Cindy is one of Africa’s top ranked women polo players. There isn’t much she doesn't know about rearing, stabling, managing, and riding horses in Kenya. At Deloraine, she looks after more than 80 horses, preparing them for Offbeat’s mobile riding safaris.

What to expect: Offbeat’s safaris comprise between 2 and 12 travelers with one or two guides and a full complement of staff to support the whole operation. A team of expert guides will take you through the bush. Daily rides range from 20 to 35 miles and cover a wide range of terrain. You’ll get extremely close to big game, and experience the natural reactions between wildlife and horse.

Top ride: Offbeat Safaris’ signature eight-day ride, which starts at Deloraine Estate, then progresses through the Mara, stopping at seasonal camps at night. For an itinerary, click here.

Contact: Offbeat Safaris, P.O. Box 1146, Nanyuki 10400, Kenya; bookings@offbeatsafaris.com; +254 (0)62 203 1082; Skype: offbeatsafaris; www.offbeatsafaris.com.

The most important thing to keep in mind as you pack for an African horse safari, like mine in Botswana, is that you may be limited to a total of 44 pounds of luggage, particularly if you will be taking small charter planes between camps. This doesn't seem like much, but most camps are very casual and offer free daily laundry service. Clothing in natural colors is most appropriate for safari, though brighter colors are fine for in camp. Avoid white and camouflage.

Luggage

• Medium size soft-sided duffle bag without wheels. Must meet airline carry-on requirements, even if you are checking it. I took the medium Adventure Duffle from LL Bean.
• Carry-on. I chose the Ladies Sterling Collection Tote Bag in Blue from R.J. Classics. It has lots of outside pockets to stash stuff you need to access easily while on the plane and it offers space to expand for your souvenirs on the way home.
• Camera bag. If you have a DSLR camera and several lenses, you'll want to bring a camera bag. A backpack-style or sling camera bag will hold all your gear and leave your hands free.

Riding Gear

• Approved helmet. Helmets are required at all horseback safari camps. I brought Troxel's Dakota Traildust. It's beige with cool graphics and leather trim, VERY lightweight (important when you have weight limits) and a flexible, extended brim to protect your face and eyes from the hot sun.
• 2 pairs of breeches. I brought my favorite pairs from RJ Classics, one beige and one navy, which held up great despite riding in thigh-deep water and through acacia trees with their 3-inch spikes. You can wear jeans if you prefer, however, remember that you'll be in the saddle for at least 3 hours a day so you don't want to risk getting rubs.
• Riding shoes and half chaps. Tall boots will get wrecked so riding boots and half chaps are ideal. I brought the Ariat Terrain boots and matching Terrain half chaps. The chaps are ventilated, which kept my legs cool, and helped them dry out quickly between rides. The elastic gussets are a nice feature, particularly when your legs are swollen from sitting on a plane for 14+ hours. Take a second pair of boots if you can fit them, unless you don't mind wet feet when your boots don't have a chance to dry out completely. These boots will do double duty as hiking boots if you do walking safaris.
• Shirts. 3-4 short-sleeve cotton or cotton-blend shirts in neutral colors, such as browns, beige or leaf green. Polos are ideal. If you are visiting during the winter season, bring a lightweight long-sleeved shirt with cuffs you can roll up.
• Jacket. Mornings and evenings can be chilly, particularly when traveling in open four-wheel-drive vehicles. I brought the Ariat Portola in brown. I don't believe they have that color available anymore, but they do have black. It fit great, was the perfect weight and easy to pack--not to mention very flattering. The Ariat Vechta Softshell jacket is another good option.
• Socks. 3-4 pairs. I recommend those that will dry quickly.
• Bandanas. 2. I wear them under my helmet to absorb sweat and keep my helmet from getting stinky.
• Gloves. I brought a pair of crochet-back gloves but unfortunately lost them before I got to use them. I was fine without them and probably better off, particularly when photographing from the saddle.

Street Clothes

• Sandals. I brought the Explorer Sandal from LL Bean. It provided plenty of coverage while being lightweight and very comfortable. In addition, they can be worn in the water or in the shower.
• Pants. 2 pair of lightweight khaki, brown or tan cargo pants that can be rolled up into capris or zipped off into shorts. I kept mine rolled during the day and down at night to protect my ankles from mosquitoes.
• Shirts. Your riding shirts will probably be all you need.
• Hat. Bring a ballcap or packable hat with a brim.
• Underwear. 3-4 pairs are sufficient. I brought several quick-dry nylon pairs that I could rinse out, if necessary. Be aware that the staff at some camps will not wash underwear due to prevailing local traditions, though I did not encounter this in any of the camps I visited.
• Belt. Useful to attach a small point-and-shoot camera case while riding or during other activities.
• Swimsuit. Most camps have at least a plunge pool. Most pools I encountered were not heated, but were comfortable once submerged.

Kim, the interim manager at the Macatoo Camp in Botswana's Okavango Delta, said, "You never know what you'll miss unless you go."

I'm glad I listened to her as I planned my last day in camp. I had been waffling about whether to ride in the morning or go for a boat ride in one of the dugout canoes, called a mokoro, before catching a plane to my last stop in Botswana. I wasn't able to go out with the regular group because of my early flight time, so I went on a private ride with Wabongwa "Bongwe" Makate, African Horseback Safaris' head guide. My chaperone Paul had left the previous afternoon to spend time with his family in Maun before heading to Durban, South Africa, for Indaba, Africa's largest travel trade show, so I was on my own.

I enjoyed the one-on-one time with Bongwe, having an opportunity to ask a million questions about his life in Botswana, the flora and fauna of the Okavango Delta and the many challenges that come with horse care there. I was fascinated watching Bongwe use all of his senses to track: When we spotted African buffalo tracks in the sand, he gently waved his hand in front of his face, capturing the scent riding on the slight breeze in his palm. He immediately turned his horse left, and it wasn't long before we came upon the herd of nearly 100 buffalo with their flat, curving horns that reminded me of a Dutch milkmaid's hat.

I hadn't yet seen buffalo on my trip, so I was quite engaged with photographing them. Bongwe then pointed to the tree that was surrounded by the herd. We'd nearly missed a lioness who'd been treed by the buffalo! She was having a rough morning; if she came down from her safe perch in the crotch of the tree, chances were good that the buffalo would kill her. Lions will prey on single buffalo, but she was outnumbered that day.

About a minute later, the lion looked up and caught sight of us. I could nearly hear her weighing the options in her feline brain: Hmmm. do I chance getting killed by the buffalo in the hopes I will have a nice lunch, or do I stay up here and hope these guys will go on their merry way? For a moment it looked like she was going to chance coming down but then thought better of it. Bongwe led me in a businesslike walk in the other direction so as not to change her mind.

Stacey Nedrow-Wigmore rides through deep water in the Okavango Delta.

Breathing in the sweet scent of wild jasmine, we retreated to a safer area out of the lion's sight. Bongwe told me he'd never seen a lion treed by buffalo before. He was very excited that we'd both captured it on camera, too. I knew it would have been a great story to tell around the dinner table in camp that night, and I was sad to think I wouldn't be there. However, all it took to get past that regret was thinking about the previous night:

After my lovely evening ride on Karimba, a Thoroughbred, through water up over his chest, our group dismounted, untacked and started walking back to our tents when Matt, one of the staff members, intercepted us. He told us to hurry back to our tents, change our shoes, grab a jacket and meet him at the boat. He said there had been a buffalo herd sighting on the road heading to the airstrip. I swapped out my waterlogged riding boots and socks for sandals, flipped up the cuffs of my soggy breeches and made a beeline for the dock. I met Matt and fellow guest Hannah while we waited for Michelle and Brenda.

We hopped in the boat and Matt powered us across to the opposite shore, skimming past marsh grasses and lily pads in the waning light. As we neared the shoreline, I could see flames through the trees. I wondered if there was a fire. As Matt docked the boat, we saw that the "flames" were actually about 20 white candles, lanterns and the fire pit used for cooking. The Macatoo staff had hauled everything by boat from the main camp and raised it 15 feet in the air onto a platform built in the canopies of several large trees. Candles beckoned us up the steep wood staircase to the deck where we were greeted by the staff, a linen-covered table and a lovely dinner under the stars. The camp's cooks presented a beautiful meal of kudu stew, potatoes, butternut squash--and vegetable dishes for Kim and me--that had been cooked entirely in Dutch ovens over an open fire. I wiped away tears when I thought about the special evening they'd arranged.

I woke up with an elephant at the foot of my bed.

I heard him before I saw him, rummaging for breakfast of leaves and grass just outside my tent in the Macatoo camp in Botswana's Okavango Delta.

As my eyes adjusted to the still-dark sky, lit only by the gas lantern hanging just on the other side of the mesh wall that separated me from nature, I could see his shadow stretching across the low brush. The huge bull lumbered into view, and I watched in awe as he used the narrow tree a few feet from my tent's opening as a scratching post--first one side, then the other, then his rear. I wasn't afraid as I lay in bed tucked under a mountain of wool blankets, watching him for about an hour.

I must have dozed off again because I heard the camp's interim manager Kim call my name. "Stacey? Are you awake? Sorry we can't bring you tea in bed this morning. We have an elephant in camp." I wondered how one shoos an elephant. Very carefully, I suppose. I never did ask how. As Matt, one of the staff members, likes to say: "T.I.A.--This is Africa." Be flexible, and expect the unexpected. This was one of those times.

After breakfast, my chaperone Paul, fellow guest Hannah and I walked the short distance to the stable and mounted up. I was on Salous, the sweet Thoroughbred I'd ridden the previous evening. Lead guide Sekongo slid his rifle into the brown leather scabbard attached to his saddle, and we headed out.

Kudu (large antelope with spiral horns), impala (small antelope) and zebra dotted the landscape as we rode deep into the bush. Sometimes we'd travel along or cross a narrow sand trail, but mostly Sekongo would lead us through dense Mopani bushes, the favorite food of elephants, or Acacia trees with their 3-inch needle-like thorns. There were no signs, no markers; we only knew what direction we were heading based on the position of the sun. I'd asked one of the guides how he know where to go, and he told me that it's usually based on landmarks, such as a tree with a peculiarly shaped branch or some other natural feature.

The horses we rode rivaled Olympic event horses in terms of fitness. Salous marched through hock-deep water for a solid mile without breaking a sweat. He made me smile as he grabbed mouthfuls of marsh grass as he went.

Hannah, Stacey, Sekongo and other guide in front of the baobab tree holding an elephant tusk

© Paul Swart/Natural Migrations

At the halfway point of our four-hour morning ride, we stopped near a gigantic baobab tree to sip from the water bottles hung from our saddles and snacks that had been packed in the guides' waterproof saddlebags. The baobab is often called the "upside-down tree" because it looks like someone pulled it out of the ground, turned it over and stuffed it back into the hole. The bark is very fibrous and can be used for clothing or rope. Sekongo used his knife to peel back a small area of the bark and remove the long, natural-colored fibers. He began twisting and soon it became a rope bracelet for Hannah, then he made one for me. He tied it on my wrist and told me that the fibers would become very strong when it dried. That was probably my favorite souvenir of the trip.

Hannah went exploring nearby and found an elephant tusk. She brought it back to the tree and gave it to me to hold. It was much heavier than I expected--probably weighing nearly 20 pounds. We had fun posing with it next to the tree for pictures, then set it against the baobab as we remounted to head home.

A few miles from the stables Sekongo gave the signal for a final canter and Salous sprung to attention without much extra prompting from me. The flat, sandy path scattered with low scrub soon became knee-deep water. Sekongo picked up the pace a little bit, and a little voice in my head told me to bring my shoulders back "just in case." Thankfully I listened because a few seconds later I witnessed Sekongo's horse disappear out from underneath him with Sekongo shooting out in front as if he were launched from a canon. As Sekongo's horse went down, Salous made a sharp right turn to avoid trampling him, nearly sending me over his left shoulder into an Acacia tree. If I hadn't had my shoulders back, I would have been picking those 3-inch spikes out of my breeches! The horse scrambled to his feet, and Sekongo emerged from the water like a swamp thing, water pouring off the oilskin hat that was still on his head and a very surprised look on his face.

I'm really not a fan of small planes. However, there's no other way to get to the camps in the Okavango Delta, the world's largest inland water system, than in a tin can with wings.

After a lovely lunch of grilled cheese and tea with his sister, brother-in-law, niece and parents in Maun, my chaperone Paul from Natural Migrations and I walked across the street from the café and checked in at the Sefofane Charters desk at the Maun airport. We followed the porter rolling our luggage to the security checkpoint. There is only one gate, so it didn't take us long to walk the length of the room, funnel through the metal detector and settle in to the golf-cart-like tram for the short ride onto the tarmac to get to our plane. The French pilot maneuvered our bags into the tiny luggage compartment in the belly of the Cessna. There is so little space, passengers are restricted to just 44 pounds of luggage total (including carry-ons), which may only be soft-sided duffle bags no larger than 9 x 14 x 22. That doesn't sound like much, but you don't need much. Most camps have same-day laundry service, so you can get away with only two to three days of clothing.

The pilot instructed us where to sit--Paul in the seat next to the pilot and me behind him. I pulled my trusty camera from its bag to once again take my mind off soaring above the water. Once through the preflight check, we taxied to the runway and smoothly lifted into the air with my camera clicking furiously.

Common area interior at Macatoo

I began to relax as the Okavango Delta unfolded before us, with its lush vegetation surrounded by clear, shallow water and tall marsh grasses. From the air I could see sandy trails cutting through the bush and flattened grasses through the water both from from animals passing through. Essentially an oasis in the Kalahari Desert, the Delta is located in the northwest corner of Botswana, spilling over into Namibia to the north. The Delta covers nearly 6,200 square miles at its fullest and recedes to about half that size during the low period. Camps are built on islands throughout. The Delta remains one of the most unspoiled places on the planet, and Botswana's tourism philosophy of low volume and high income helps ensure that it stays that way.

About 40 minutes later, our plane safely landed and came to a stop on the Macatoo airstrip. We loaded our luggage into a Land Rover and drove down a sandy two-track road that abruptly ended at the water's edge. Our guide explained that because of the heavy rains that extended into the dry season, the road was flooded and we would have to take a boat to camp. The metal powerboat skimmed through the clear water as if on an invisible highway through lily pads and grasses. Just five minutes later, we pulled up to the camp's dock, greeted by four women singing a song to welcome us. They handed us cool, damp towels to freshen up as we disembarked.

We made our way up a beach-type area to the common area. It was a tent but had all of the luxuries of a comfortable lodge--leather sofas, upholstered chairs with throw pillows, a bar and refrigerator. We helped ourselves to cold drinks and received a brief orientation before being shown to our tents to get changed into our riding clothes and get ready for 4 p.m. tea before our afternoon ride.

Macatoo tent

The accommodations at Macatoo were quite different than those at the other camps. Back at Mashatu's Main Camp there were permanent buildings made of concrete and two guest rooms per building. Each had a king-size bed, a large full bathroom and a powder room, a sitting room and a desk. Macatoo offered large, private tents nestled in the trees, each with two twin beds, two desks, a small covered deck and sitting area outside and a toilet, shower with hot water and sink. It also had electric lights that ran off solar power. This was certainly luxury camping! The beds faced the Delta and there was only a mesh wall between nature and myself. The other sides of the tent were canvas with mesh windows. Inside were the standard can of "Peaceful Sleep" insect repellent, can of "Doom" insect spray (probably similar to Raid) to kill any bugs you might find in the room and an emergency air horn to alert staff in case of a medical emergency. (Guests cannot leave their tents at night because of animals that might be in camp.)

I nearly forgot to breathe as I sat in the Land Cruiser watching a pride of lions working on catching dinner less than 20 feet from me. Two female lions used their sharp claws to dig out an unlucky warthog while the large male lazily kept an eye on the younger lions playing and resting nearby. We started the day with a morning predator drive with Mashatu project manager and researcher Andrei Snyman.

With our guide Elvis at the wheel and Andrei riding shotgun (that would be on the left side of the vehicle in Botswana), my chaperone Paul, his brother-in-law Map Ives (who drove in from Maun the previous day) and I watched Andrei use his tracking equipment--an antenna-like device wired to a radio--to listen for signals from the various animals in the reserve who wore tracking collars for research purposes. Elvis drove to the top of a ridge, and we immediately picked up a strong signal that we were close to the pride. This wasn't much of a surprise as we'd heard them from camp overnight.

Andrei Snyman tracking lions at Mashatu

Following the signals (Andrei moved the tracking device around and the stronger beeps from the radio direct us), Elvis showed us why four-wheel drive Land Cruiser is essential as he expertly maneuvered it through dense brush, over large, sharp boulders and up and down very steep dry river bed banks. Our tracker, named Morgan, stood on the back of the vehicle giving Elvis instructions for the safest path. Within a few minutes, we found the pride in the shade of a tree. Elvis turned off the vehicle, and I sat mesmerized.

Lion cub in Mashatu

This is a situation where you really need to trust your guide to correctly read body language of the animals. I quietly took photos and video while Andrei talked about this particular pride. The lions were comfortable with us there--they were used to the vehicle, and we were an extension of it, he explained. I couldn't tell you how long we sat there; it could have been 10 minutes or it could have been an hour. I was captivated watching the interactions among the family members: The females were digging, alternately chiding the youngsters if they got too close. One cub rubbed against his father, while his sibling rolled on his back playing with the lower branches of a Mopani tree like a domestic house cat.

One curious cub picked his way down the embankment toward the vehicle. Perhaps we were his version of a safari--or maybe he was evaluating the potential for his next meal. He sat no more than 10 feet away, observing us while his mom and aunt kicked up loose dirt as they worked to flush out their quarry. The ladies didn't seem to be in much of a hurry, digging for a few minutes then resting or wandering around the hole. While I could have stayed and watched them for hours, our window for tracking another predator was closing as midday approached when the animals would be less active in the heat. We later learned that this pride had been successful in their kill.

Heading back to the ridge where we got a signal on the lions, Andrei changed the frequency to a collared leopard. Almost immediately he got a faint signal. It became stronger as the leopard's movements led us through even more difficult terrain than we'd covered earlier. Just as we were closing in, a flat tire--probably punctured by one of the sharp rocks--stopped us. We had a tea break on the tailgate while Elvis and Morgan expertly installed the spare.

Leopard in Mashatu

Leopards are much more elusive and skittish than many of the other animals tracked in the reserve. They move around mostly in the cooler mornings and evenings and can cover a lot of ground. With the tire fixed, we picked up the signal once again, blazing trails through the dense bush to follow it. Finally we caught a glimpse of him walking quickly through a clearing in the distance. It was a fleeting sighting, but I was able to capture a couple photos of him.

Refreshed after lunch and a nap at the lodge, we again hopped in the truck with a tired Elvis for the drive to the stable for our afternoon ride. I reflected on how lucky I was to have seen both lions and a leopard in one day.

The sky was just beginning to lighten as my alarm roused me at 4:45 a.m. Normally I'm not a morning person, but jet lag and excitement for my first day riding in Botswana made it easier than usual to get moving so early. I donned my breeches and riding sneakers, grabbed my helmet and half chaps and shrugged into my fleece jacket as I set out to meet my group for breakfast. April in Botswana is similar to April in Maryland--except that Botswana is heading into winter. So mornings and evenings can get chilly, particularly when traveling in open four-wheel-drive vehicles.

At breakfast I greeted my chaperone Paul Swart of Natural Migrations in Bend, Ore. Paul organized the trip for me in conjunction with the Botswana Tourism Board and was accompanying me for most of it. He grew up in South Africa and had been a guide in his home country as well as in Botswana, so I knew I was in good hands. We met our riding companions for the day--two young women from southern France. They were staying in a satellite camp in the Mashatu Game Reserve, part of the Northern Tuli Game Reserve. We were staying at the Main Camp.

Cable car over the Limpopo River between South Africa and Botswana

Mashatu is located in the easternmost part of the country where Botswana, South Africa and Zimbabwe meet. The Tuli Block is bordered in the south by the Limpopo River, which I had crossed to enter the country the previous day. It definitely was not by any common means of transportation: Paul and I--and our luggage--arrived by cage, with half walls created from welded mesh grates, a metal roof and a wood floor, suspended over the river on a cable. I lifted my camera to my eye as our attendant on the South Africa side of the crossing called across to her colleague a half mile or so to the Botswana side to have him turn on the cable's motor to carry us across. I clicked away at the scenery to take my mind off dangling 20 feet up from possible death by crocodile. It was at that point I knew I was in for the adventure of a lifetime.

Elvis, our driver and guide, who had met us at Pont Drift when we arrived (yes, his name really IS Elvis--full name Othusitse Elvis Ramogale), gathered Paul, the two French riders and me into the Land Cruiser and drove 45 minutes to Limpopo Valley Horse Safaris (LVHS), near where we entered Botswana. I learned quickly that travel is generally discussed in terms of time, not distance. You don't say, "It's a 10 kilometer drive." Instead, "It's a 45-minute drive." This is because of the conditions of the mostly unpaved roads and other considerations--like a herd of elephants or impala that might be blocking the way. Most roads in Botswana are just two tracks of sand worn into the grass from sparse vehicle traffic. This is a nice contrast to the rush-hour congestion on metro Washington, D.C., highways, but you'd better be with a seasoned driver who has water, extra gas and spares on board. In other parts of Botswana, like in the Kalahari Game Reserve, we never saw another vehicle on the three-hour drive into and out of the park. And cell phone reception is found only in the cities and sparse small villages.

As we pulled into the stable yard, we passed through the gate of an imposing 7-foot-tall electric fence that encloses the stables and paddocks. This level of security is essential to keep out lions and other predators that would LOVE a quick and easy dinner! I met Louise Carelsen, the owner and managing director of LVHS along with her husband Cor. Louise is a British/American dual citizen who competes in dressage and eventing when she's not entertaining guests or caring for horses. We filled out our paperwork and got a rundown of the signals the guide might use while riding--the most important of which was a raised hand in a waving motion, which means "canter" and a raised open hand that means "stop."

Albany with his groom

My mount for the day was Albany, a nearly black Boerperd--a local breed known for its sturdiness and good temperament. The other horses at the stable were Thoroughbreds, warmbloods, draft-crosses, Appaloosas and more. Riders at LVHS can go on static rides, like we were doing--leaving and coming back to the stable the same day--or they can do a mobile ride that travels from camp to camp, usually over the span of a week. Riders leave in the morning, the staff pack up your tent and luggage and transport it to the next camp where it's set up before you arrive after your day's ride. I met two Americans, Bambi and Sue, who were on a mobile riding safari with LVHS, a trip donated by Paul for a horse show fundraising raffle. Sue was the lucky winner and brought Bambi who had just finished treatment for cancer. The friends were bursting with excitement and enough energy to run power in the camp as they told me about their wonderful horses and guides and the food. All three of us teared up as Bambi recounted how the previous night her guide cut a lock of her horse's tail and braided it into a hatband, adding in beads and other trinkets as a souvenir.

We came upon the lions suddenly. Three half-grown cubs tumbled away into the scrub forest while two big female lions spun to face us. They dropped to their bellies, no more than 50 yards away. We pulled up our horses and stood still, watching the big cats as they watched us. Then the nearer lion launched herself.

In a single motion too fast and smooth for my eye to compute, she was up and racing at us while I stood and watched in amazement like a deer in the headlights. (Article continues below)

"We're leaving now," my companion Steven said, wheeling his horse around. He cast a glance back at the onrushing lion. "Quickly," he said. "Quickly!" Then we were racing away, dodging thorn bush, leaping ditches, heading for the open flats. Ahead of me, Steven glanced back again, and the look on his face told me the lion was closing. He unfurled the bullwhip he carried, and it cracked like a rifle shot.

"That stopped her," he shouted, looking back again, but we kept galloping anyway until we were sure we'd left the lions behind.

&copy Ann Jones

"That's quite enough excitement before breakfast," I said as we pulled up. I rubbed the neck of my good, fast horse with considerable gratitude. Steven just laughed.

"Sometimes I'm accused of chasing the wildlife," he said, "but as you see, it's the other way around."

This was my introduction to Limpopo Valley Horse Safaris -- wildlife safaris on horseback in southern Africa, just where the Shashi and Limpopo Rivers meet and mark the boundaries between Botswana on the one hand and Zimbabwe and South Africa on the other.

We were riding on the Botswana side in an area called the Tuli Block on the Mashatu Reserve, the largest privately owned wildlife reserve in southern Africa. It's famous for its dense concentration of wildlife, including all three big cats -- lion, leopard, and cheetah -- and especially elephant. The herd, estimated at 1200, is one of the largest single populations on conservation land in southern Africa.

My companion and host was Steven Rufus. An all around horseman, Steven was a horse breeder and a top competitor, taking colors in eventing and carriage driving for his native South Africa before he moved to Botswana to start his safari operation. He's a big man and a bold rider, cheery and unflappable, and thoroughly at home with the terrain and wildlife. A fast hand with the bullwhip, he's just the guide you want to ride with in this extraordinary country.

All of the horses on the Limpopo ride are trained by Steven Rufus

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Steven told me later that being chased by lions is a rare event. He believed they were actually after his dog, a big gangly Rhodesian ridgeback named Enzo, who had tagged along on our pre-breakfast ride. I'd come out of season to scout the Limpopo Valley Safaris and so had the privilege of riding out alone with Steven and the appetizing Enzo. That sudden flight may have been unusual, but it explained without my having to ask why the Limpopo rides are advertised for experienced riders only.

We got back to Jameson's Camp at midmorning, just as the day was growing seriously hot. Breakfast was set out in the gardens of the old homestead that serves as base camp for the safaris, and then I was on my own with plenty of time before our next ride, scheduled for late afternoon.

From an elevated hide at the edge of the property I watched as woodland kingfishers and huge monitor lizards visited a waterhole. I strolled to the paddocks to rub a few friendly faces. I took a cooling dip in the plunge pool and snoozed through the midday heat in my modest wooden bungalow -- one of five under the trees set . Then it was time for tea in the garden, and about four o'clock we set off on another 3 l/2 hour ride.

That's the standard scenario for what Steven calls the "Limpopo Safari." Riders stay amid the comforts of Jameson's Camp -- usually for a week -- and ride out as I did for 3 or 4 hours every morning and evening. (The saddles used are a streamlined variation of the Australian stock saddle: cushy, but stripped down for the trail.)

There's a school program for riders who are short on the experience, skills, or confidence needed to ride in open country where they just might have to outrun lions or aggressive elephants. They can work in the ring with instructor Louise Carelson, and when they're ready to join the ride, she will go along to coach. Many riders take this unusual schooling opportunity to make the transition from arena to all-outdoors. And many return a second or third time for the ultimate adventure: the week-long "Tuli Safari."

Steven Rufus knows how to lead a wild ride.

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Tuli Safari riders spend only one night at Jameson's Camp, taking a warmup ride along the dry Limpopo riverbed to make sure they're well mounted on the horse Steven has chosen for them. The next day they set off across the flood plain, riding among plentiful browsers and grazers -- impala, zebra, wildebeest, eland, giraffe, and waterbuck -- to make tent camp in the mopane scrub forest along the Jwala River, one of many Limpopo tributaries that lace the Mashatu Reserve.

The next day they learn something of the rich history of the area as they traverse granite outcrops to camp at Zeedenberg, an old coach stop on the pioneer route from Pretoria (South Africa) to Fort Salisbury, Rhodesia -- now Harare, Zimbabwe. Covering about 30 kilometers per day, they then follow the Zeedenberg Trail, ride through battlefields of the Boer Wars, camp beside rivers and waterholes, and climb a towering sandstone escarpment for an unforgettable view of the Reserve, laid out far below, under an African sunset.

The drill calls for an early start each day on a 5-6 hour ride -- including some gallops that cover many kilometers -- to the next camp where there's lunch, rest time, and usually a late afternoon bush walk with a naturalist guide. Add in lots of good food cooked over an open fire, spacious tents, and the occasional camp with real showers and you can imagine a certain reluctance to hand back your horse and go home.

About those horses: It would be hard to find a string anywhere that's any better, or better cared for. There were 42 when I visited, all carefully chosen or bred by Steven Rufus for temperament and durability. They represented the best of southern African breeds, such as Boerperd and Basuto, famed for their hardiness and ability to thrive amid the area's heat, drought, and carnivorous insects and animals. And many were crossed with Thoroughbred or warmblood lines, like a group of handsome black Thoroughbred/Shire crosses Steven had just acquired for training.

All the wildlife in the region gravitate to the Limpopo River

&copy Ann Jones

That training is careful and thorough, and between safaris, all the horses are sharpened up in the school. There's no doubt they know their job well. For that close encounter with lions, I rode a South African Boerperd -- literally "farm horse" -- a stockier version of the American Quarter Horse with the same sensible mind and, luckily, more mileage to the sprint.

The terrain of the Mashatu Reserve is as open and inviting as any I've ridden around the world. It stretches from the lush forest along the Limpopo, where leopards lurk in the broad-branched mashatu trees, across the open plains of the valley to the rocky escarpments rising in the west. It makes for riding that's varied, interesting, sometimes challenging, memorable, and just plain fun.

We got up a good steady canter on the open plains, and the hoofbeats signaled dozens of impala, zebra, giraffe, and wildebeest to join the race. When we pulled up after a good long run, the giraffe -- far ahead -- looked back as if to ask, "Well, what was that about?" The impala and zebra loped off, but the comical wildebeest ran to us and cavorted around the horses, loping in their curious lopsided way. They seemed to be having a high old time, and like me, I guess, they didn't want to quit.

For more information and bookings, check the websites: www.lvhsafaris.co.za/ or www.mashatu.com. You'll see there's lots for a non-riding partner to do on the Mashatu Reserve. And it's easy to get there. I flew South African Airways to Johannesburg with connections on Air Botswana to Limpopo Valley Airfield. (See www.flysaa.com) For advice and help with all your travel arrangements visit www.onsafari.com.