I like my ducks in a row, planning, managing keeping things organised - on schedule, on time, in budget. Knowing who’s where; what’s happening; when and how actions take place. Knowing is comfort. Knowing is safe. Knowing is control. A bona fide- but directionless - concrete-jungle-inner-city chick, used to navigating unchartered projects and regularly comforted by the androgynous voice of GPS Lady(she has no name). Often surrendering to the authoritarian confidence of the all-knowing: “Head south; keep right at the fork, in 600meters take the exit on the left and finally, slight left,” often these statements are premised on the notion that said driver a) knows which way south is; b) how far 600meters are, and c) is the in the correct lane in to “take the exit on the left.” The confident voice of GPS lady under normal circumstance is a calming audio affirmation. In search of the ever elusive Work/life balance – yet another buzzword to pressurise control freaks to excel – this recovering workaholic relinquished control. A leap into the unknown, my maiden camping experience, inspired by my husband’s acquisition of a [supposed self-help] book: A complete guide to fun in the outdoors. Camping for dummies - A Reference for the rest of us. Camping – is not an activity to project manage – allegedly it’s an experience. Going off the grid – no laptop; no WIFI; no cell phone and yes, not even mobile data for me – the bandwith bandit. The thing about conceding control is that you have to demonstrate trust and have faith. And so with two offspring; a life partner; bug spray; some clothes; toothpaste and manual toothbrushes, we set off – not quite into the unknown – but the airport. Landing at our destination, we were met by a man holding a board with our name on it. Until this point the first leg of our work/life balance holiday had a semblance of normal. The man with the board escorted us to a vehicle, did a mandatory inspection, general explanation of how to’s and where to’s and handed over keys, temporary import permits and a list of contacts for the border crossings. Safaris and sunsets are generalisations of an African bush experience. Across the globe golden hued images of the Big 5 at dusk and dawn inspire desire to see and explore the seemingly unknown. Fortunately, GPS lady did not have to pay for her flight ticket. She appeared after crossing into Botswana. Once again – as always confident and issuing instructions: ‘Turn left on untarred road; Turn left on untarred road,’ she said. When you hear this statement repeated four times in four hours; when there is no man, building or other vehicles insight – it is a most unsettling confirmation that you are lost in the unknown. Eventually, not quite driving around in circles – although many trees look the same, we gratefully arrived before sunset at the Khwai Campsite on the Moremi Wildlife reserve. Known as one of the best game viewing areas, our arrival was met with an unmistakable signboard disclaimer stating that the Reserve will not accept liability in the event of… wait for it… first word I see: DEATH, disability and or injury. You can imagine the rest of the text. My smouldering anxiety at this point exacerbated by the calm response of the ranger when I enquired where there fences were. Unruffled by the question he took us to our camping spot, deftly explained that the fallen trees are the fences. They do not keep the animals out and are merely to show were we should camp. He said the children should not walk to the ablution block unaccompanied – hyenas; wild dogs and baboons - or play on piles of fallen trees at the water’s edge – crocodiles and hippo – you know. Thank goodness we hired a kitted 4x4. We would have arrived with no tent or notion of what to do next. And so with said Camping for Dummies safely tucked in a backpack somewhere, we set-out setting up camp. Fortunately with no wind on the plane, it did not matter that we had eight poles left after erecting the tents. We were welcomed by an elephant traipsing over said fence and through our camping site. As we attempted to descend our rooftop tents the following morning, we had to wait for the hippo to wade off the river bank. And when I jokingly told my guys of their symphonic snoring purring BBBPPRRR during the course of the night, we discovered the paw prints of the pride who orchestrated such a mellifluous melody. Note to self retrospectively: it might have helped to a) read the book before the trip b) update the Wildtracks stuff on the GPS before entering the unknown and c) had a practice camping run – preferably in a place with no predators.