Jack’s Camp

Jack’s Camp

The single propeller plane had been droning for almost one hour over some of the flattest, emptiest land I had ever seen. Swirls of gleaming salt pans and dusty sand banks stretched to infinity, baked by a merciless sun. The pilot nodded to the right. “Jack’s Camp,” he informed me, dipping the wing to give me a better look. Beneath me a palm and acacia-studded oasis was emerging from the stark Kalahari wilderness. Large green safari tents were scattered among high savannah grass, hinting of creature comforts. Could this be a mirage?