Greater Kruger Vegan Safari | Our Scouting Trip I Brighde Reed

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In this episode, Brighde shares behind-the-scenes reflections from an 11-day scouting trip through Greater Kruger, South Africa. Fresh off leading plant-based tours in Cape Town and Botswana, she explores what it takes to scout safari lodges through a vegan lens, the wildlife encounters that stood out, and the people and conservation efforts shaping the region. A thoughtful look at how a Greater Kruger vegan safari came together.

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Transcript

We are coming to you today with a bit of a different episode. We’ve just spent several weeks in Africa finishing up something truly special—our inaugural Whole-Food Plant-Based, SOS-Free trips in partnership with the National Health Association. It was a massive undertaking; we did two of those tours through Cape Town and Botswana, plus a Cape Town add-on. It was a huge success, but as any tour leader knows, by the time that final guest heads to the airport, you are running on the very last fumes of your adrenaline.
But instead of heading for a beach or a flight home, Seb and I decided to keep the wheels turning. We headed straight into an intensive, eleven-day scouting mission across the Greater Kruger region of South Africa.
Our goal was simple but ambitious: we wanted to see if we could build a brand-new World Vegan Travel itinerary from the ground up—one that offers a totally different "flavor" than our Botswana journeys. We were looking for that perfect mix of incredible wildlife density and the kind of "gold standard" vegan hospitality that we know our community expects.
In this episode, we’re taking you behind the scenes of that trip. I’m going to share my raw, day-by-day reflections—the incredible highs, the frustrating logistics, and the moments that truly moved us. Whether this Greater Kruger itinerary is already live on our website by the time you hear this, or if it’s launching very soon, we wanted you to experience exactly how we find the "yes" in a sea of "maybes."
So, let’s go back to that very first morning of the scouting trip, just as we were saying our final goodbyes in Cape Town..


Day 1
So, we’ve officially closed the book on the Cape Town and Botswana tour, and honestly, waking up on that Thursday morning at the Welgelegen Boutique Hotel felt a bit like that moment right after a long, intense performance when the house lights finally come up. You’re buzzing, but you’re also just… heavy. Seb and I were moving a little slower as we packed, and saying goodbye to Memory and Prince was actually quite emotional. They’d looked after us and our travelers with so much genuine warmth over the last couple of weeks that it felt less like checking out of a hotel and more like leaving a friend's home.
We’d had this lovely, quiet final dinner the night before with Mark and Wanda Huberman from the NHA, which was the perfect way to decompress after the whirlwind of managing departures. But even so, by the time we got to Cape Town International, we were running on those last few fumes of adrenaline. We weren’t headed home, though. This was the start of something new—ten full days of scouting the Greater Kruger region to see if we could build a brand-new itinerary from the ground up.
People ask us all the time, “Why Kruger? You already have these incredible Botswana safaris.” And I get it, but Botswana and Greater Kruger are like comparing two different genres of a great novel. Botswana is vast and wild and raw, whereas Kruger has this density—the wildlife is right there, the guiding style is distinct, and the lodges have this very specific, elevated sense of immersion. We wanted to see if we could find that "World Vegan Travel" flavor here, too.
The flight into Skukuza is only about two hours, but the transition is total. You land on this beautifully rustic little airstrip right inside the park, and suddenly the air smells different—it’s that dry, dusty, sweet scent of the bush. Our driver, Benz, met us there and drove us about an hour over to the legendary MalaMala Game Reserve. It’s a private reserve that shares an unfenced boundary with Kruger, and pulling into MalaMala Camp, you immediately feel that sense of history. It isn't flashy; it’s just timeless and quiet.
Now, we hadn't even finished our orientation before we were swept straight into afternoon tea. This is always the first real test for us when we’re scouting. The kitchen knew we were there to evaluate the vegan experience, and they clearly decided they wanted to make a statement. They brought out this spread that made my heart leap a little—properly crunchy chocolate-dipped rusks, which are those iconic South African biscotti-style biscuits, tiny little doughnut holes, crispy spring rolls, and these delicate puff pastry tartlets filled with jammy, caramelized onions. Sitting there, looking out at the Sand River with a rusk in one hand and a tea in the other, I remember thinking, Okay, they get it. This is a very good sign.
But the bush doesn't let you sit still for long. We headed out for our first game drive with our guide, Mike, and a couple of other people who were also on a "fam" trip. In the heat of the late afternoon, we found two massive male lions. They were completely passed out, just gold-colored lumps in the grass, sleeping that deep, heavy lion sleep. But Mike had a feeling, so we came back right as the sun was dipping below the horizon.
As the light drained away and that deep African blue settled over the trees, the lions started to stir. They stretched, shook out those massive manes, and then… they started to roar. If you’ve never heard a lion roar from a few meters away in an open vehicle, it’s not just a sound you hear with your ears—you feel it vibrate in your sternum. It’s primal. It makes you feel very small and very, very alive.
Of course, travel has a way of grounding you back in reality pretty quickly. While we were having our sundowner drinks out in the bush, we were chatting with the other guests about why we were there. When we mentioned the vegan group trips, one of the men laughed and jokingly offered us a sausage. "Just teasing!" he said. And you know, I’ve heard that joke a thousand times. It’s harmless, really, but it was just that tiny, wearying reminder of why our trips exist. There’s a specific kind of relaxation that happens when you’re surrounded by people who just get it, where you don’t have to be the "other" at the dinner table.
By the time we got back to camp, the exhaustion from the last two weeks finally caught up with us. Dinner at MalaMala is a plated affair—three courses with options—and they actually had a dedicated vegan menu ready to go. It wasn't an endless list of choices, but what they had was thoughtful. I had this really lovely tart for dessert, though I did have to chuckle because, true to form, "fruit plate" was still staring at me from the menu as the other option. Some things never change.
We fell into bed early that night, the sound of the lions still ringing in our ears, feeling that strange mix of being completely wiped out but also incredibly excited for what the next nine days of scouting would reveal.
But as tired as we were, the bush has a way of waking you up early.
Day 2

Waking up in the Sabi Sand on Friday morning felt like waking up in the very heart of the wild. If you aren't familiar with the geography, this reserve is basically the "Gold Coast" of African wildlife. It shares an unfenced border with Kruger National Park, but because it’s private, you get these incredibly intimate encounters—no crowds, just you and the bush.
I was staying at Sable Camp, which is part of the legendary MalaMala Reserve. There’s so much history here; it was one of the first places to pivot from hunting to photographic safaris back in the day. But that history is a bit of a double-edged sword. As I walked to the lounge for our 5:15 a.m. coffee, the air was crisp and cool, and you could feel that quiet, focused energy of a camp preparing to head out.
The morning drive itself was actually quite "quiet" by Sabi Sand standards—mostly elephants moving like grey ghosts through the brush and the usual cast of beautiful birdlife—but honestly, a slow morning in a place this rich is still more exciting than a busy day almost anywhere else.
After we got back, Seb and I switched into "scouting mode" for a full site inspection. We started with Rattray’s, which is MalaMala’s most exclusive camp. It’s designed to look like an elegant, turn-of-the-century safari manor—all dark wood, Persian rugs, and leather. It’s undeniably beautiful, but for a vegan traveler, it can be a little jarring. Because it leans so heavily into that "heritage" feel, there’s still quite a bit of taxidermy and hunting-era decor. It’s a strange tension—appreciating the history of how these lands were preserved while feeling that internal wince at the reminders of what that history actually looked like.
Sable Camp, where we were actually staying, felt much more like "us." It’s more contemporary, with these lovely circular buildings inspired by traditional African rondavels. It’s intimate, no kids under twelve, and the views of the Sand River are just stunning.
And I have to talk about the food, because the kitchen was clearly trying to show us that they could handle a vegan group. They did this Tofu Benedict for breakfast that was surprisingly sophisticated, but the afternoon tea was the real standout. Imagine sitting on a deck overlooking the river, being served caramelized onion tartlets, crispy spring rolls, and even vegan cheeses. It’s moments like that where you realize how far the safari industry has come. Even so, as we were packing up to leave, I found myself questioning if MalaMala was the right fit for a WVT trip. The food is there, but the vibe—that slight lingering shadow of the hunting days—made me wonder if we could find something that feels a bit more "soulful."
That brought us to our next stop: Jock Safari Lodge.
The drive south into the heart of Kruger felt like moving into a storybook. Jock’s is named after "Jock of the Bushveld," that famous 19th-century tale of a brave little Staffordshire Terrier and his owner. The lodge sits right at the confluence of two rivers, and the vibe is completely different from MalaMala. It’s less "polished manor" and more "secret riverside hideaway."
Our suite was this private sanctuary with thatched roofs and a wooden deck that looked right out over the dry riverbed. It felt integrated into the trees, softer and more romantic. We headed out for an afternoon drive with our guide, Mainard, who was just fantastic. He had this easy, unhurried way of reading the bush, and he tracked down a leopard for us. Watching her weave through that low, golden afternoon light… it never gets old. It’s one of those sights that just makes you go quiet.
But the real highlight of the day came after dark. The team at Jock’s surprised us with a dinner set up right on the banks of the river. It was like something out of a dream—lanterns flickering, a crackling fire, and the sounds of the night all around us. They were doing a traditional barbecue for the other guests, which can sometimes be a bit of a minefield for us, but the chef had gone above and beyond. They brought us this warming soup, grilled pumpkin, vegan sausages, and a rich vegetable curry with jeera rice. They even made a vegan creamed spinach and a vanilla sponge pudding for dessert.
Sitting there under that massive canopy of stars, eating a carefully prepared vegan feast while the river whispered in the background… that was the moment the exhaustion of the last few weeks finally started to melt away. It was the perfect reminder of why we do this scouting—to find those rare places where the luxury of the setting is matched by a genuine, thoughtful effort to welcome vegan travelers.
I fell into bed that night feeling a lot lighter than I had that morning.
Day 3
Waking up at Jock Safari Lodge on Saturday felt like being in the front row of a theater before the curtains rise. There’s this specific, soft quality to the light in the southern Kruger just before sunrise—everything is a hazy lavender and grey, and the air is so still you feel like you need to whisper.
Mainard was back at the wheel, and we hadn’t even been out for twenty minutes when we stumbled into a scene that felt like it was straight out of a BBC documentary. A young male leopard had managed to snag an impala and haul it into a tree, but his victory was short-lived. Out of the shadows emerged this massive, dominant male leopard—a real heavyweight—who scaled that tree with a terrifying kind of grace. We sat there, breath held, as the two of them shifted through the branches, muscles rippling under that spotted fur. The younger one eventually conceded, and they both leapt down, one after the other, right in front of us. It was raw and cinematic and, honestly, a little heart-pounding.
But the morning had one more surprise. Further along, right on the paved tarmac of the main road, we found a hyena nursery. A mother was just lying there, completely unbothered, nursing three tiny cubs. They were still that deep chocolate brown, with these wide, curious eyes, stumbling over each other and playing right in the middle of the road. It’s one of those "only in Kruger" moments where the wild and the human world just… overlap.
By the time we got back to Jock’s, I was already buzzing, but then came breakfast. If you’ve ever felt like the "vegan option" at breakfast is an afterthought, you need to see this place. They brought out a three-tiered tea stand—the kind you’d expect for a fancy London afternoon tea—but instead of finger sandwiches, it was loaded with hot vegan goodness: crispy hash browns, savory beans, vegan sausages, pancakes, and these incredible little chickpea fritters. It was abundant and thoughtful, and it made me realize how much Jattray's and MalaMala could learn from this approach.
We spent a little time after breakfast with Louis, the manager, touring Fitzpatrick’s. It’s their smaller, three-room lodge next door that they use for private bookings. It’s just been renovated, and it’s gorgeous—lots of natural tones and soft textiles. Louis mentioned that the main lodge will be following this same design style soon, which was music to my ears, especially after the more "traditional" (read: taxidermy-heavy) decor we’d seen earlier in the trip.
Around 11:00 a.m., it was time to leave the southern park and start the trek north toward Hoedspruit. It’s about a three-hour drive, and it’s a fascinating transition. You watch the landscape flatten out and the vegetation change as you move into Limpopo province. Hoedspruit is really the gateway to the central Kruger—it’s a proper bushveld town with red earth and the Drakensberg mountains looming in the distance.
We checked into the Radisson Safari Hotel there, and the first thing I noticed wasn't the lobby, but the trees. They were absolutely teeming with Southern Masked Weavers—these bright yellow birds that look like flying lemons. They were working feverishly, weaving these intricate, hanging nests out of strips of grass, chirping away like they were on a deadline.
It was the first moment in days where we didn't have a schedule. We finally had a chance to sit down, open our laptops, and actually process everything we’d seen. There’s a specific kind of "safari brain" where you’re so over-stimulated by sightings and logistics that just sitting in a quiet room watching birds build nests feels like the ultimate luxury.
Day 4:
Waking up at the Radisson in Hoedspruit felt a bit like a homecoming. We stayed here almost exactly a year ago, and the first thing I did was look for the trees. Those Southern Masked Weavers—these brilliant, busy little yellow birds—were exactly where I’d left them, darting back and forth and intricately knotting blades of grass into those hanging nests. It’s like watching tiny artists on a deadline. It was the perfect, slow start to a day that was all about returning to a place that feels less like a destination and more like a sanctuary.
Around 11:00, we headed north toward Sashwa River of Stars, and I could feel my shoulders start to drop just thinking about it. If you’re picturing a traditional safari lodge, you have to shift your perspective for Sashwa. It’s a retreat center tucked onto the banks of the Olifants River, created by our friend Peter Eastwood, who is the force behind Koru Camp—an incredible conservation project focused on rewilding and community upliftment. Sashwa is essentially the heartbeat of that philosophy; it’s where conservation meets mindfulness. There’s yoga, there’s breathwork, and there’s this deep, quiet immersion in the wilderness that you just don't get when you're chasing sightings in a vehicle.
When we arrived, they settled us into the Eagle Suite, and honestly, it’s one of the most beautiful rooms I’ve ever stepped into. Every room there is unique, but ours had this stunning, hand-painted leopard mural that just commanded the space. There was a claw-foot bathtub that practically whispered my name, and the view looked right out over the Olifants River. Because of the recent rains, the banks were this vibrant, electric emerald green. The elephants were a bit scarce because they could drink from pans deep in the bush, but the monkeys and the birds were out in full force. It felt alive, but in a very peaceful, meditative way.
What makes Sashwa so interesting for a potential World Vegan Travel trip is how it challenges the "safari norm". Instead of that rigid 5:00 a.m. wake-up, the rhythm here is much more fluid. You might start with meditation, move into a yoga session in their airy studio, and then have a long, slow lunch. It’s a place for healing as much as it is for wildlife.
After a quiet afternoon drive to see that lush, post-rain landscape, the evening took a turn for the joyful. The staff put on a performance of local dance and music—not the "staged" thing you sometimes see at big resorts, but something that felt rhythmic, heartfelt, and deeply connected to the community. The highlight, though, was dinner with Peter. He’s been a guest on the podcast before, and sitting across the table from him felt like picking up a conversation that had only been paused. We talked about the progress at Koru and the future of conservation, and it reminded me why we do this—it’s not just about the animals, but about connecting with the people who are fighting to protect them.
Falling asleep at Sashwa, you don’t hear the hum of a generator or the bustle of a big camp. You just hear the river and the stars, and you feel like you’ve finally caught up with yourself.

Day 5
Monday at Sashwa really underscored why this place feels so different from a traditional safari lodge. We woke up in the Eagle Room, and I have to tell you, just lying there in bed, looking at that hand-painted leopard on the wall while the soft light hit the Olifants River outside... it felt like being inside a piece of art. We headed down for a quiet coffee before the morning drive. Now, the bush was incredibly lush—we’d had so much rain lately that the animals didn't need to come to the river to drink. They were scattered everywhere, sipping from little puddles and hidden pans in the thicket. So, the drive was "quiet" in terms of big sightings, but honestly? It was exactly what my soul needed. It was just still, fragrant with the scent of wet earth, and remarkably peaceful.
When we got back, breakfast was this perfectly grounding chickpea scramble on toast with a savory vegan cheese sauce, followed by a slice of warm toasted banana bread. It wasn’t just "fuel"; it felt like part of the wellness experience. And speaking of wellness, I treated myself to their "Bounce Back" massage. Ninety minutes of pure bliss tucked away in the greenery of the spa. I think I almost fell asleep about twenty times. After weeks of being "on" as a tour leader, that massage was the moment my nervous system finally decided it was safe to fully exhale.
Lunch was an intimate affair, followed by a much-needed nap, but the afternoon was where the "work" and the "wonder" of scouting really came together. I spent some time with Nannia, who runs the food and beverage program. We sat down to really map out how a World Vegan Travel group would fit into their world. It’s so refreshing to talk to someone who doesn't see "vegan" as a restriction, but as a creative opportunity. We talked about menus and special setups, and I left that meeting feeling so confident that our travelers would be not just fed, but genuinely nourished here.
Just as we were wrapping up, word came in: lions. And not just one or two, but a pride of about ten or eleven right near Koru Camp. We scrambled into the vehicle and found them in that gorgeous, honey-colored afternoon light. They were absolutely stuffed—fat, happy, and incredibly sleepy after a big meal. There’s something so contagious about the relaxation of a lion; we just sat there watching them stretch and flop back into the grass.
While we were out that way, we swung by Koru Camp itself. The staff told us they were hosting a group of "gogos"—local grandmothers. I just love that. Koru does these wilderness camps specifically for older women from the community to give them a space for rest and empowerment. It’s such a beautiful, full-circle way of looking at conservation.
We ended the day back at Sashwa with a long-table dinner with the other guests. It’s very communal there—you start as strangers and end the night sharing stories over creamy pumpkin and sweet potato soup. The main was this incredible cauliflower steak on a bed of cauliflower-and-bean mash, and we finished with chocolate ice cream over a chocolate-nut cream cookie. By the time we walked back to the Eagle Room, I was wiped out, but in the best possible way. It was a day that reminded me that travel doesn't always have to be about doing—sometimes the most profound parts are about simply being.

Day 6
Waking up on Tuesday at Sashwa, the first thing I heard was the rhythmic drumming of rain on the thatched roof. It’s one of the most soothing sounds in the world, but in the bush, it’s also a universal signal that says, "Stay in bed". We were still carrying the weight of the last few weeks in our bones, so we made the executive decision to lean into that restorative energy and skip the morning drive. Honestly, that extra sleep felt more valuable than a leopard sighting ever could. We eventually made our way to a slow, rainy breakfast with Peter, sharing a massive bowl of comforting oats and a tofu scramble while we watched the mist hang over the Olifants River. It was a beautiful, quiet goodbye to a place that had really centered us.
But then, reality hit in the form of South African logistics. Looking at a map, our next stop—Klaserie Drift—is only about 10 kilometers away as the crow flies. In a perfect world, you’d just drive across the bush. But in the world of private reserves, there are no "traversing rights" between these properties. To get from Point A to Point B, we had to leave the reserve, loop all the way back through Hoedspruit, and come back in through a completely different gate. What should have been a fifteen-minute hop turned into nearly three hours of bumping along corrugated dirt roads. By the time we pulled into Misava Safari Camp, we were rattled, dusty, and—I'll be honest—a little bit grumpy.
But the second we stepped out of the vehicle, the vibe shifted. Misava sits right on a ridge overlooking the Klaserie River, and the view is just expansive. We sat down for lunch, and within ten minutes, my "scouting radar" was pinging. Usually, we have to explain the finer points of veganism three times, but here, the food was practically vegan by default. They brought out perfectly crispy arancini, a rich vegetable stew that reminded me of a traditional potjie, and a grilled pineapple dessert. It wasn't just a "good option"; it was intentional, sophisticated cooking.
When they showed us to our suite, I actually did a little happy dance. It was huge, airy, and modern, but more importantly, it was a "no-wince" zone—no taxidermy and no animal skins on the floor. And the minibar? It had four different kinds of gin and was entirely vegan. It’s those tiny details that tell you a lodge truly understands modern, ethical travel.
We headed out for an afternoon drive, and while the rain had kept some of the big cats tucked away, the bush was alive in other ways. We found a large herd of elephants moving through the thick marula and acacia trees, and I got to see a beautiful waterbuck—still my absolute favorite antelope. I did make a note for our future groups: the vehicles here don't have canopies. That was fine for a drizzly day like today, but for a group trip in the South African sun, we’ll need to plan for some serious hat and sunscreen reminders.
The real "wow" moment, though, was dinner. They had set up a table under the stars, lit with soft lanterns. The chef had heard I’d had cauliflower steak at Sashwa the night before, so without me even asking, they swapped their planned main for a stunning tofu stir-fry over warm lentils with this gorgeous golden sauce. That level of communication between the kitchen and the front of house is so rare, and it’s exactly what makes a group trip run smoothly. As we sat there in the cool night air, listening to the sounds of the river below, Seb and I just looked at each other. After the long, bumpy road to get here, Misava felt like finding a diamond in the rough.

Day 7
Wednesday morning at Klaserie Drift had that specific kind of stillness that only comes with a low, grey sky and a light mist. We headed out for one last drive, but the bush was quiet—almost as if it was holding its breath. Honestly, after the high-energy sightings of the last few days, I didn't mind the silence. It gave me a chance to just watch the way the rain clung to the acacia thorns.
But the real highlight of the morning wasn't a leopard; it was breakfast.
We’ve stayed at so many lodges where breakfast is a bit of a struggle for us, but Klaserie Drift has this figured out. They handed us these little laminated menus before we even left for the drive, and I’m telling you, the vegan section was a dream. I built myself this massive "English breakfast" plate—vegan sausages, seitan bacon, crispy hash browns, and mushrooms. Sitting there by the pool, eating a hot, hearty meal that I didn't have to "negotiate" for... it was easily the best breakfast of the trip.
Before we left, we did a quick walkthrough of their three new rooms with Prudence, the manager. They are a total departure from the rest of the lodge—very modern, square lines, and huge windows. They’re perched right on the edge of a ravine, looking down into this dramatic canyon. For a future trip, having that mix of classic and contemporary rooms would be such a great selling point for different types of travelers.
Around midday, we started the transition over to the Timbavati. It’s about a 40-minute drive to the reserve gate, where we switched vehicles and headed for Simbavati River Lodge.
I’ll be honest with you—first impressions matter, and lunch here was a bit of a letdown. After the incredible food at Klaserie, the spread at Simbavati felt a little uninspired. The rooms were perfectly fine, clean and comfortable, but they lacked that "wow" factor we’re looking for when we’re planning an exclusive takeover. When you’re scouting for a WVT trip, you’re always asking: Is this worth the journey for our guests? And at lunch, I wasn't quite sure.
But then, we went out on the afternoon drive with Happy and Nicol, and the Timbavati reminded me why people travel halfway across the world to be here.
Nicol is a tracker who sits on that little "scout seat" right on the hood of the vehicle, and watching him and Happy work together is like watching a choreographed dance. They found us a huge herd of elephants, and we sat with them for a long time. There were a few that wandered so close to the vehicle I could hear the rhythmic scritch-scritch of their skin against the brush.
And then, we found them: Painted Dogs.
They are so rare, so endangered, and so incredibly charismatic. We watched the pack darting through the grass, their mottled coats making them almost disappear one second and pop out the next. Seeing them in that fading afternoon light... it completely shifted my mood.
We ended the drive with sundowners right in the middle of a wide, sandy dry riverbed. I had this beautiful blue butterfly pea gin—you know the kind, where it turns a soft, dusky pink the moment you pour the tonic in? Standing there in the sand, cocktail in hand, surrounded by leadwood trees as the sky turned to gold... that’s the "bush magic" that makes you forget a mediocre lunch.
Dinner was a definite step up—a chilled butternut and coconut soup followed by gnocchi in a creamy garlic sauce. We skipped the brownies for dessert because, honestly, the day had been so full that we were just ready to collapse.
It was a day of contrasts—the professional high of a perfect breakfast versus the reality check of a lodge that might not be the right fit. But that’s why we’re here, right? To find the "yes" in a sea of "maybes."
Day 8
Thursday was American Thanksgiving, and while we weren't tucked away in a snowy kitchen, we woke up to a different kind of gratitude in the Timbavati. I decided to take a leaf out of the "Sashwa book of rest" and skipped the morning drive, but Seb came back absolutely glowing. He’d spent the morning watching rhinos—big, prehistoric-looking adults and a tiny, curious baby—just wallowing in the mud. It sounded like the most peaceful, muddy start to a holiday you could imagine.
Breakfast at Simbavati River Lodge was a bit of a theatrical production, mostly thanks to a very cheeky vervet monkey. We were trying to enjoy these incredible apple-pie-style muffins and coconut yogurt while this little guy was basically running a covert operation to snag anything left unguarded. It’s hard to stay professional as a scout when you’re giggling at a monkey trying to outsmart a waiter.
Before we left the Simbavati area, we did a site inspection of their Hilltop Lodge, and I have to tell you, it was a complete "reset" for my opinion on the brand. If River Lodge felt a bit more traditional, Hilltop felt like the future. It’s modern, it’s airy, and because it’s perched so high, the breezes are just incredible. The rooms are these stylish tented suites with private decks that look out over the entire reserve. I left there thinking, Okay, this is a real contender for our groups.
But then, we moved on to Kings Camp, and honestly? I think I found my happy place.
Coming to Kings Camp is different because of Hayley Cooper. She’s been on the podcast, and she’s a powerhouse in the Vegan Hospitality world. Usually, when we scout, we’re looking for things a lodge might have missed—the wool blanket, the leather trim, the honey in the dressing. But at Kings Camp, it was like they had read my mind before I even walked through the door.
Our suite was a total sanctuary. No animal skins on the floor—which was a huge change from a few years ago—vegan cookies waiting on the nightstand, soy milk in the fridge, and even the bath oils and soaps were 100% vegan. It’s the first time in a long time I didn't have to do a "sweep" of the room to remove non-vegan items.
After a great lunch with Hayley, we headed out with our guide, Grant, and tracker, Sonnyboy. Grant is one of those guides who doesn't just drive; he predicts. He saw a breeding herd of elephants moving toward the lodge and realized they were heading for the waterhole. He turned the vehicle around, rushed us back, and ushered us into their underground photography hide.
Being at eye-level with a massive elephant while it drinks just meters away is… it’s life-changing. You can see every wrinkle, every lash, and hear the incredible rumble in their chests. We got some of the best photos of our lives right there, just sitting in the cool dark of the hide.
The evening only got better. We saw a male leopard who spent ages grooming himself right in front of us, looking like a giant, spotted housecat. And then, the sundowners. Most lodges give you nuts and dried fruit, but Kings Camp brought out vegan jerky and even a vegan Amarula-style liqueur. It felt like we weren't just being "catered to"—we were being celebrated.
Dinner was the final clincher. I had a chilled asparagus soup that I’m still thinking about, followed by a vegan jackfruit potjie—a traditional South African slow-cooked stew. It was rich, hearty, and authentic. Seb even got a full vegan cheese platter for dessert!
As the rain started to patter on the thatch that night, I realized Kings Camp isn't just a lodge that "does vegan". It’s a lodge that understands the heart of why we travel this way. I went to sleep feeling like we’d finally found the gold standard.

Day 9
Friday morning at Kings Camp gave us a true taste of the South African summer—a heavy, relentless rain that turned the bush into a palette of deep greens and greys. I honestly thought we were staying in bed, but our guide, Grant, knocked on the door at 5:00 a.m. with that infectious safari energy. Before I could even protest, an oat-milk cappuccino was in my hand, and honestly, that’s the kind of hospitality that wins me over every time.
The drive was incredibly moody. When the rain falls like that, the "small stuff" takes center stage. We watched termites erupting from the mounds in their thousands—a massive, winged event that only happens after a big soak. We saw two rhinos grazing peacefully in the drizzle, looking like ancient statues. But the highlight for me was the reptiles and birds. We spotted a Giant Plated Lizard—it’s essentially the second-largest lizard in the country—and it was just out enjoying the moisture, along with these enormous snails that seemed to be claiming the roads as their own.
By the time we got back, we were soaked to the bone but completely invigorated. I warmed up with a "Big Five Breakfast"—a tofu scramble that was perfectly "eggy" thanks to the kala namak, and these surprisingly delicious carrot ribbons. My only tiny grievance? No baked beans. I’m a firm believer that an English breakfast without beans is just a collection of very nice side dishes!
After a heartfelt goodbye to the Kings Camp team—they all come out to wave you off, which always makes me feel a bit like I’m leaving family—we drove back to Hoedspruit to pick up a rental car. We were heading north to a place I’ve wanted to visit for years: the Vervet Monkey Foundation.
Walking into the sanctuary, you immediately feel the weight and the beauty of the work they do. It’s a 100% vegan organization, right down to the cleaning products they use. Our host, Mark, walked us through the grounds where they care for about 700 monkeys. Since it was "baby season," the energy was intense. We saw volunteers acting as "monkey mums," carrying these tiny orphans around the clock for bottle feedings and comfort.
But the most moving part was learning about their "foster mum" program. Instead of humans raising these babies indefinitely, they use adult female vervets who have been rescued themselves. These females take the orphans under their wing, teach them how to be "real" monkeys, and integrate them into a troop. It’s a natural, compassionate cycle that just makes so much sense.
Looking at those 700 pairs of eyes, I realized how much of a struggle it is for them to keep things running on donations alone. Logistically, it's a long haul from Hoedspruit, which makes it a challenge for a standard group itinerary. But the emotional impact of seeing those babies cling to their foster moms? That’s something that stays with you.
We ended the day back in the car, reflective and a bit quiet, processing the contrast between the luxury of a safari lodge and the raw, urgent needs of a rescue sanctuary. It was a day that reminded me that travel is at its best when it opens your heart as much as your eyes

Day 10
Our final day in Greater Kruger didn't involve a sunrise game drive or a search for the Big Five, but in many ways, it was the most high-impact day of the entire scouting trip. After a failed attempt to snag a last-minute massage—clearly, the universe wanted us focused on the work—we drove out to the headquarters of the Black Mambas.
I’d first heard about them a year ago at Sashwa, and Peter Eastwood had been adamant that we meet these women. Now, I’ve seen a lot of conservation projects, but the Black Mambas are something truly unique. Formed in 2013, they are South Africa’s first all-female, unarmed anti-poaching unit. It’s important to make a distinction here, because people often confuse them with the Akashinga in Zimbabwe. While both are women-led, the Akashinga are a heavily armed paramilitary force. The Black Mambas take a completely different path—one built on non-violence, visibility, and deep community trust.
They are part of a larger organization called Transfrontier Africa, led by Dr. Craig Spencer, and seeing how all the pieces fit together was a real "lightbulb" moment for me. It’s a total ecosystem of protection. You have the Mambas on the front lines doing the grueling foot patrols and snare sweeps ; you have the Bush Babies program teaching local kids to take pride in their wildlife ; and then you have the Bush Grannies. I love this so much—they work with the matriarchs of the villages to shift cultural attitudes toward poaching. It’s simple: if you convince the grandmothers, you change the heart of the community.
We were met by three Mambas—Colette and two of her colleagues—and they were just magnetic. They were powerful, funny, and incredibly honest about what it takes to do this job. They told us about their three-week training, which is just as grueling as the men's: survival skills, intense physical tests, and living in the same clothes for weeks. They walked us through their daily life—monitoring the fence lines for "warthog holes" that poachers use to slip through, and spending weeks away from their families. We even met one Mamba who was breastfeeding her baby right there at the base. It was such a grounded, human reminder that these women are protectors of both their families and the forest.
The most sobering part of the day was the "Poachers’ Garden". It’s a display of confiscated tools—skulls of rhinos with the horns hacked off and piles of wire snares. They showed us exactly how a snare works, and it’s heartbreaking. It’s just a silent, indiscriminate wire loop that waits for an animal to walk through. Seeing the sheer volume of metal they’ve pulled out of the bush really drives home the scale of the threat.
But the results speak for themselves. Since they started, poaching in their zone has plummeted. They’ve gone from the bushveld to the United Nations, winning the "Champions of the Earth" award. As we drove away, Seb and I didn't even have to debate it. This is a "must" for World Vegan Travel. Our travelers don't just want to see animals; they want to know how they are being protected. They want to see leadership that is compassionate, grassroots, and female-led.
Ending our trip here felt like the final piece of the puzzle. We’ve seen the luxury, the food, and the wildlife, but the Black Mambas reminded us of the soul of the Greater Kruger. It was a powerful, emotional finish to an incredible ten days

Outro:
It’s hard to believe how much we managed to pack into those eleven days. We set out with a goal to see if we could build a Greater Kruger itinerary from the ground up that lived up to the World Vegan Travel name, and I think we found something even deeper than that. We found the "soul" of the region—not just in the luxury of the lodges or the intensity of the lion sightings, but in the people like Peter, Hayley, and the Black Mambas who are redefining what conservation and hospitality look like.
From the "gold standard" of vegan dining at Kings Camp to the profound, quiet moments of reflection at Sashwa, this trip proved that you don't have to compromise your values to have a world-class safari experience. We found our "yes" in that sea of "maybes," and we are so incredibly excited to share this new chapter of South African travel with you.
Whether you’re ready to join us on one of these upcoming departures or you’re just dreaming of your own future adventure, we hope this behind-the-scenes look gave you a sense of the care and the heart that goes into every mile we travel.
Keep an eye on our website—worldvegantravel.com—for all the details on the new Greater Kruger itinerary. As always, thank you for listening, for traveling with us in spirit, and for being part of this incredible community.
Until next time, keep exploring, keep eating well, and we’ll see you in the next episode.