10 Years in the Bush: The Story of Thorn Tree Bush Camp

It’s April 2026.

I’m sitting with my morning coffee… same spot as always. No upgrades, no fancy deck — just the same view that refuses to get old.

Out in front of me, the bush is waking up.

The impala that spent the night camped along the fence line — part of our unofficial “lion early warning system” — are stretching and drifting toward the waterhole.

The birds are already in full meeting mode. No gentle wake-up call… no, this is loud, passionate debate.
Something moved somewhere — and now the entire bush has an opinion about it.

And that’s the thing about this time of day…It’s not the coffee that wakes you up. It’s the bush.

I found myself sitting there a little longer than usual.

Ten years…..Now that’s a strange one.

Doesn’t feel like a number…more like a collection of small decisions, questionable ideas… and a fair bit of stubbornness holding it all together.

Because it all started on 16 February 2016.

That day we stood here — not as owners, not as “camp managers” … just people looking at a piece of bush and quietly wondering if we were slightly mad.

Turns out… we were.

I took another sip of coffee… and looked up. The Matriarch had arrived.  Not alone — never alone — the whole herd behind her. No prior notice. No booking…..Typical.

She paused. Looked straight at me.

“Morning, Rodney,” she seemed to say. “Do you remember that day… 16 February 2016… when you stood at the corner of this property?”

I do.

She continued…“We didn’t ask much… just that you become part of the journey.”

A slight pause. “You signed the offer to purchase… while we were standing right there.”

Another pause. “And somehow… ten years later… you’re still here.”

Fair point.

This has become a bit of a routine over the years.

Morning coffee… the bush waking up… and the occasional “review meeting” with the Matriarch.

She doesn’t say much. But you know when you’re getting it right…And more importantly—when you’re not.

The Early Days (Controlled Chaos Phase)

The registration and transfer was confirmed on the 22^nd April 2016. We wer official owners of The then Thorn bush cottage.

When we first arrived… there wasn’t much, Bushveld, A simple cottage, A few outbuildings, And a whole lot of wildlife that had absolutely no intention of adjusting to us.

Bush babies, agamas, squirrels, birds… all carrying on like we were temporary, Which, to be honest, we probably were at that stage.

There was also a Malawian caretaker quietly observing things — likely giving us about six months.

The plan? Retire one day in the future, take it slow.

That plan lasted… briefly.

The “Let’s Just Try This” Phase

Retirement came early., and with it came a dangerous mix of, Time, ideas… and just enough stubbornness to believe they might work.

The idea was simple, Create a place where people could experience the bush… properly.

Not rushed.
Not overdone.
Not disconnected.

Just real.

However of course… the bush had its own timeline.

Learning (Mostly the Hard Way)

We spent more time figuring things out than building anything.

Learning the land, Listening to the bush.
Making mistakes… fixing them… then making new ones.

And slowly… without any grand announcement…Something started taking shape.

Charls Arrives (And Sets Boundaries)

Then one day… old Charls the elephant bull came to  do inspection and welcome us.

Charls was no small elephant bull he was huge with a  Proper presence.

He didn’t say much — but made his point very clear, tested the fence, restructuring both the fence and the garden,

And advise the citrus trees were a delicacy in winter. He ken ripe from green and carefully selected his meal.

Let’s just say… Charls and citrus farming had very different long-term visions.

His tree still stands today — supported, respected… and probably still judging us.

Building Something… Slowly

Nothing happened overnight.

A tent here,  A path there, Fixing the cottage.
Weekend guests starting to arrive.

And then we realised something important. The way we liked camping…Was exactly what guests were looking for.

That changed everything.

From Weekends to Full-Time

Then came the big move. Selling Struishuis in Pretoria and committing fully to the bush.

With Vusi and Mercy joining the journey — suddenly this wasn’t just an idea anymore. It was real.

Then, just to keep things interesting…COVID arrived…… Because apparently, we hadn’t been tested enough.

The Camp Takes Shape

Out of that chaos came structure. Six private campsites, Each with its own space, Its own quiet.
Its own piece of bush.

Then the shifts, Tents moved into the east, Camps settled in the west, and in between — the heart of the camp, that space under the fever trees where stories last longer than the fire. The pool, The lapa

Then came the cabins, replacing the older tents they retired. Not flashy, But comfortable, the kind of place where you still feel the bush — just with a slightly better night’s sleep.

The Guides, The Walks… and the People Behind It

Along the way, it wasn’t just camps that took shape… it was people.

PJ was one of the early guides — back when guiding in Dinokeng was still finding its feet. Calm, knowledgeable, and always up for the unknown — the kind of guide that made every drive feel like an adventure.

Then came Val, who started at Thorn Tree and worked his way through to earning his green beret — a proper journey, built on passion and hard work.

Michael’s story still makes us smile.

During COVID, his mom decided he needed to get out of the house… so she sent him our way. The plan, we assume, was temporary relief on the home front.

Well… that didn’t quite go as expected. Instead of heading back, Michael found his place in the bush. What started as a short escape turned into a few solid years with us, growing into a confident and capable guide. Eventually, the bush called him onward. He headed off with his girlfriend—now fiancée—and today he’s thriving as a head guide at Mapesu.

Not a bad outcome for someone who was just supposed to “get out the house for a bit.”

Shana, our daughter, brought a whole different energy to the camp. During the holidays she’d arrive with a crew of friends—most of them studying nature management and tourism—and suddenly Thorn Tree felt like an informal training ground.

What started as a “holiday experience” quickly turned into something far more real… hands-on learning, proper bush exposure, and a genuine passion for the wild taking root.

Shana stayed on with us for a few years, becoming part of the heartbeat of the camp. But as the bush often does, it eventually sent her on her way. She spent time at other lodges, gathering experience and stories of her own, before ultimately trading early morning game drives for city traffic.

These days, she’s working an 8-to-5 in the city, staying with Kyle and his family while he completes his training as a millwright—proof that even those raised in the bush sometimes follow a different path… though the wild never really leaves you.

Somewhere in all of this, the Field Guide Group took shape — not formal, just a group of like-minded people trying to raise the standard, support each other, and grow something real in the reserve.

Just after COVID, we flirted with the idea of a bush restaurant with Gerald — a chef from the shipping liners… and let’s just say, the man could run a kitchen tighter than a captain runs a ship. Only difference? This ship wasn’t sailing — it was a bush craft.

Magda became our lodge anchor in 2025 — steady, reliable, the one who quietly keeps things together behind the scenes.

And Natie, her husband… he walks. Guided walks, to be exact, and not just a few.

He’s just completed his 600th walk in the DGR. an amazing achievement.

That’s hundreds of early mornings, tracks followed, stories shared, and guests safely guided through the bush — a level of consistency and dedication you don’t come across every day.

A Brief Encounter with “Management”… and Other Questionable Decisions

Somewhere along the journey… I found myself sitting on management structures within the reserve.

Now that’s a very different kind of bush experience.

Less birdsong… more boardroom chatter. More human politics… and the occasional naughty elephant bull thrown in just to keep things balanced.

Speaking of Elephant bulls…

There came a time when then troublemakers — became a little too much for the reserve, And so, they were relocated to Zinave National Park in Mozambique.

A sad day, that.

Saying goodbye to Charls… and Lumpy — two characters who left their mark in more ways than one.
These days they wander somewhere up there in Zinave, probably still causing the same nonsense… just in a different postal code.

But back to management…

The bush teaches you things — even in a meeting room.

Like how complicated simple things can become, how quickly people forget why we’re here.
And how easily the focus shifts from the bush… to everything else.

And that’s the danger, because at the end of the day…this place isn’t about policies, positions, or paperwork, it’s about the bush, and if you lose that… you lose everything.

After about three years… I stepped away, Came back to my usual spot, Early morning. Coffee in hand.

Back to having conversations with wildlife instead of agendas.

I remember thinking…“Ag, I must be mad.”

But then again… standing here, listening to the bush reset everything — it made more sense than any meeting I’d sat through.

And honestly…It still does.

What Guests Actually Come For

Over time, something became very clear, People don’t come here looking for more, They come looking for less.

Less noise, Less pressure, Less distraction.  And in that space…Something shifts.

Morning coffee tastes better. Showers feel different under the open sky and Fires become connection.

We’ve seen it all, Guests arriving tired… leaving refreshed.

Friends becoming family, Even a couple getting engaged here — filming their wedding invite in the bush.

Try beat that.

What the Bush Teaches

If you listen… the bush teaches, Patience, Balance, Respect, And maybe the most important lesson, Slow down… or it will slow you down.

It Was Never Just Us

Thorn Tree Bush camp was shaped by many hands, Staff who take pride in small things — like firing up a rocket boiler before sunrise.

Guests who leave pieces of their story behind, Friends, neighbours… and even a few sceptics turned supporters.

That’s the thing about a place like this, It’s never finished, It keeps adapting and growing.

Ten Years Later

We’re still learning, Still adjusting. Still being corrected by the bush… and occasionally by elephants.

But one thing is clear, This was never just about accommodation, It’s about connection.

Whether you arrive with a bush trailer, pitch a tent, go off-grid, or settle into a cabin…There’s a place for you here.

Not because it’s perfect, But because it’s real.

A Final Word from the Matriarch

As quietly as they had arrived… the herd began to move off. No meeting adjourned. No minutes taken. Just a silent agreement that the visit was over.

The Matriarch lingered. Turned back… gave me that look. The same look from ten years ago — when we first stood here on 22 April 2016… wondering if we knew what we were doing.

(Spoiler: we didn’t.)

And if I had to translate…“Ten years, Rodney…We honestly weren’t sure about you back then.

There were discussions.”

(She pauses… probably remembering.)

“But… you stayed. You listened — occasionally, and you didn’t plant too many more citrus trees.”

Fair enough. I finished my coffee. Watched the herd disappear back into the bush… just like that — meeting closed, no minutes, no follow-ups.

The birds carried on arguing about something completely unnecessary. The impala moved in like they owned the place again.

And I sat there for a moment longer…Quiet. Still. Listening. Because out here… if you pay attention, you start to realise—The bush doesn’t rush. It doesn’t explain. And it doesn’t repeat itself for those who weren’t listening the first time.

And if I had to translate what the Matriarch was really saying this morning…“Rodney… stop overthinking it. Just sit still… and pay attention.”

 Because out here… if you pay attention, you realize something—Listen to nature… it will teach you.

Not in a hurry. Not in a straight line. but in its own time… and usually when you’re not trying too hard.

And maybe that’s what we were meant to do all along—Not to control this place…but to care for it.

“The Lord God took the man and put him in the Garden… to work it and take care of it.” — Genesis 2:15