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Our tracker, BT Ntshekisang, sat up straight in his seat, his sharp gaze sweeping the horizon. He’d spotted fresh lion tracks a few paces back and directed our vehicle into the dense bush. Just as I started feeling myself dozing off, Ntshekisang rose from his seat, pointing toward a jackalberry tree in the distance.

There, sprawled out in the shade, lay a pride of eight lions, their tails lazily whipping away flies, and their fearsome canines catching the light with every yawn. We inched forward, parking just a few metres away from the herd. Not the clicking of our camera shutters nor our oohs and aahs could rouse them from their heat-induced slumber.

This wasn’t the Okavango Delta experience I’d imagined. Botswana’s vast inland river delta — the world’s largest — is famed for its waterlogged wetlands, a critical life source for nearly 2,000 plant and animal species, including endangered black rhinoceros, cheetahs and pangolins. For years, I’d fantasized about gliding through its glassy channels in a traditional mokoro canoe to the chorus of bullfrogs and birdsong.

It had never crossed my mind to visit during the region’s low summer season — from November to March — when the life-giving rains from the Angolan highlands are only just beginning to trickle more than 1,000 kilometres southward, quenching the parched plains across Angola, Namibia and, eventually, Botswana. The Okavango Delta’s transformation isn’t complete until around June, when the floodwaters create the drenched conditions most travellers associate with the destination.

But when I received an invitation to visit two of the region’s top lodges last November with the safari company andBeyond, a friend from Cape Town urged me to go — and not just because of the South African-based company’s reputation as a leader in conservation travel. (Currently, andBeyond properties undergo a rigorous third-party environmental audit through Beyond Green.)

“It’s actually one of the best times to see animals,” my friend said, explaining how the limited pools of water mean that wildlife is more concentrated in areas. This makes sightings more visible. “Plus, with fewer guests, you’ll get more one-on-one time with the guides.” Sweetening the deal are shoulder-season savings of up to 40 per cent off at select camps.

I was glad I took her advice. On one of my first afternoons at — a nine-suite lodge set on an exclusive 25,000-hectare wildlife concession bordering the Moremi Game Reserve — I stretched out on the swing on my private wooden terrace, watching as a herd of elephants padded across parched plains toward the property’s permanent water hole. After splashing around and cooling themselves with a splatter of mud, the elephants approached the camp, weaving between guest rooms and surprising visitors on the pathways.

Witnessing these animals travel long distances in search of relief in the delta’s permanent water pools was a testament to nature’s resilience and survival instinct. It also underscored the delicate mechanics of the Okavango Delta ecosystem: how the seasonal rains rejuvenate the plains, and how even slight disruptions in water supply, whether due to higher temperatures or shifts in river flow, can threaten this intricate balance. For years, the region has been in a sustained drought, creating permanent grassy plains where there were once channels and islands.

After a few days at Nxabega, we boarded a helicopter and flew east to , a design-forward camp set in the far reaches of the delta. Its curvilinear main lodge and eight stilted suites take inspiration from the shapes of the endangered pangolin and globe-like weaver bird nests, respectively.

On one of our first night drives, I chatted with our guide, Richard Leitseng, who shared that even staff who have been here for decades can’t help but feel a spark of excitement when the floodwaters saturate the landscape around May or June. “It’s just a special time,” he said.

Over the next few days, we saw a cheetah take down an impala, a leopard climbing a tree, and a rhinoceros standing on high alert as a pack of greater kudu encroached on his water source. Floods? Those could wait. The parched beauty of the delta in its off-season had already given me everything I came for, and more.

Siobhan Reid travelled as a guest of andBeyond and Beyond Green, which did not review or approve this article.