Safari Photography with Short Lenses in Botswana: Finding the Power of Limitation
- Madhvee Deb
- Jun 25
- 10 min read
A luxury safari, a 24-70mm, a 70-200mm, seven hippos outside my tent, and absolutely no regrets.
đź“‹ Quick Summary
The Core Question:Â Can you shoot a successful African safari with short lenses (24-70mm and 70-200mm)?
The Verdict:Â Yes. While you will lose the ability to capture extreme close-ups of distant wildlife, the focal length limitation forces intentional composition, environmental storytelling, and a deeper connection to the landscape.
Essential Safari Gear Tips:Â Master manual camera settings, pack extra batteries and memory cards, use a lens hood for physical protection, and bring a dedicated dust-cleaning kit (bulb blower, soft brush, and microfiber cloth).
I am a visual artist. Photography is my primary medium, the language I think in, the tool I reach for when words feel insufficient. I also love to travel, and when I travel, I photograph. Not as a mission, not with a shot list, but because capturing moments is simply part of how I experience a place. It always has been.
So when our trip to Botswana came together, a family holiday, three families, ten of us including four teenagers who had strong opinions about absolutely everything, I approached it the way I approach most travels. I went with curiosity, a willingness to be surprised, and a firm commitment to not destroying my back.
What I did not approach it with was a wildlife photographer's lens kit.
I packed an AF-S NIKKOR 24-70mm f/2.8E ED VR and a Nikon AF-S Nikkor 70-200mm 1:2.8G ED VR II. Both lenses I know intimately. Both lenses that any wildlife photographer worth their binoculars would quietly, politely, describe as insufficient for the job. Well, I wasn't going to buy a super-telephoto for a single trip, and renting isn't the inexpensive solution people assume it is. More to the point, I had no desire to carry anything heavier than what I already had. I am a traveller who happens to have a camera, not a photographer on assignment.
What I didn't anticipate was how much the limitation would shape not just the images, but the entire experience of making them.
Traveling to the Okavango Delta and Savuti: The Wilderness Journey
The journey sets the tone before you even arrive. Singapore to Johannesburg. Johannesburg to Maun. Then a small bush plane (the sort of size that makes you instantly review your life choices the moment the wheels leave the ground) into Savute in the Chobe National Park for three days, followed by another bush plane to Camp Xakanaxa (Pronounced as Ka-ka-na-ka) in the heart of the Okavango Delta, a UNESCO World Heritage Site.
Both both camps (Savute Safari Lodge and Camp Xakanaxa) completely shattered any illusion that we were going to be roughing it. This was a luxury in the wilderness. Exceptional food, luxurious tents with proper beds ensuite bathroom, guides who could read the landscape like a text they had memorised long ago. Everything was considered and comfortable.
The only thing that was genuinely, unpredictably wild was everything outside the tent. And that, as it turned out, was more than enough.
Image (left and middle) credits: Desert & Delta Safaris
Safari Photography Style: Shooting Wildlife With Short Focal Length Lenses
This is the part where I am supposed to either defend my choices or confess my mistakes. I will do neither, because the truth is more interesting than either position.
There were moments when the reach simply wasn't there. Twice on game drives, we encountered lions on a kill, and for obvious reasons, ours included, we kept a respectful distance. The animals were too far away for the 70-200mm to do what I wanted. Those are frames that exist as impressions rather than images, and I have made peace with that. Not every moment is meant to become a photograph. Some things are better held in the body, in the memory of being present for something extraordinary. I watched. I felt the weight of what I was witnessing. That felt like enough.
What the constraint did, everywhere else, was force intention. When you can't simply zoom into an animal and isolate it from its environment, you start asking different questions. Why is this worth photographing? What does the landscape around it say? How does the light fall? I found myself becoming more conscious of the environment as a participant, the sky, the grasses, the space between things, rather than treating it as interference to be eliminated.
The limitation of the lens took away the limitation of observing.
The lone acacia tree against a darkening sky. The giraffe's neck rising into a near-black sky, a shot taken by simply looking up from the vehicle. The ghost trees of the delta standing in their own reflections. These are images I could have made with almost any lens, because they are about seeing, not reach. The 24-70mm was exactly enough.
For images where I needed more distance and didn't have it, the solution was always going to be in the darkroom rather than the field, and I knew that before I pressed the shutter. Post-processing was part of the plan from the start, not a rescue operation after the fact. I went in knowing that Adobe Lightroom would be the second half of many of these images. It would help with bringing animals forward from camouflage, working in black and white to strip away the colour that sometimes helps wildlife hide, using contrast to do what focal length couldn't. Some of those images required meaningful crops. They will live smaller than the others. That is a creative parameter I had accounted for, not a defeat.
Safari Camera Gear Tips: How to Protect Your Equipment and Capture the Best Shots
Since I know this question will come up, here is what I would tell anyone heading into the bush without the "right" lenses.
Learn your camera's manual settings before you go. This is non-negotiable. Extreme contrast, extreme camouflage, shooting from a moving jeep, or capturing an animal that has been running for twenty minutes and has suddenly decided to stop, all of it requires split-second decisions about exposure, shutter speed, focal length, and aperture. Auto mode will not keep up. The light in the bush changes faster than any algorithm anticipates, and the moment waits for no one.
Bring more batteries than you think you need, and then one more. Cold mornings and long drives drain them faster than you would expect, and there is no option to charge it on the go.
Extra memory cards are non-negotiable. You will shoot more than you plan to. The light changes constantly and you will not want to stop.
A lens hood is essential, not optional. The dirt tracks in Botswana are genuinely dusty, a chase across dry savanna throws up a remarkable amount of particulate. The hood protects the front element while you are focused on not missing the shot.
Pack a blower, a brush, and a microfibre cloth. Dust will find its way in regardless. A bulb air blower clears the sensor and glass without contact; a soft brush handles the stubborn bits; the cloth deals with everything else. Clean your gear at the end of every drive before that dust settles permanently.
Shoot what is in front of you, not what you wish was closer. And remember to look behind you. The images I am most proud of from this trip are the ones where I stopped trying to compensate for distance and started working with what the scene was actually offering. And more than once, the most interesting thing happening was not where everyone else was looking, it was in the opposite direction, in the quiet corner of the landscape where nothing dramatic appeared to be going on. Turn around occasionally. You will be surprised.
Close Encounters in Camp Xakanaxa: The Night the Hippos Came
I should tell you about the hippos.
I had skipped dinner that night, and I was horizontal before dark. After dark, guests were not permitted to walk the camp alone. The camp had an electric fence, but it was designed specifically to deter elephants. Anything shorter, as I was about to discover, could walk in entirely unchallenged.
I was almost asleep when I heard it. A heavy, rhythmic crunching just outside the canvas. A kind of leisurely, contented munching that had no business being that close to my tent. I carefully lifted a corner of the tent flap.
A hippo mother. Two babies alongside her. Enormous, round, extraordinarily close.
I checked the other window. Two more large hippos. The tent porch: two more.
Seven hippos. My tent. No staff in sight.Â
I had a horn, the call-for-help kind. I considered blowing it. Then I considered what seven hippos, including a mother with young, might do if startled by a sudden loud noise at very close range. Hippos are among the most dangerous animals in Africa. They are fast, territorial, and deceptively committed to making a point. They were between me and everything else.
So I did what any reasonable person would do. I slid very quietly back under the covers and lay there in a state best described as thrilled paralysis, listening to them graze for what felt like a long and wonderful hour.
I did not take a single photograph. I was too frightened, and then too absorbed in just listening. That is my only regret, not the staying hidden, which was clearly correct, but the fact that my hands never found the camera. They were too busy gripping the sheets.
They were extraordinarily cute. The babies especially. This did not, even slightly, make them less alarming.
Wildlife Sightings in Botswana: A Two-Hour Chase for Nine Lions
The last morning at Xakanaxa started with ambition and escalated into one of the most unexpectedly perfect mornings I can remember.
Our guide had picked up wild dog tracks, among the rarest sightings Botswana offers, and we followed them with genuine focus, the landscape scrolling past in the early light. Thirty minutes in, the trail dissolved. He switched targets: fresh prints from a large male lion.
Another hour. Impalas appearing between the grasses. Zebras. Giraffes striding across the flat. More impalas. No lion.
The adults in the jeep had quietly reached the stage of pragmatism that sets in when a flight is waiting. We had to head straight to the airstrip after the drive to catch our bush plane back to Maun and the long journey home. It made sense to wrap up. The three teenagers in our jeep, and our guide, who had the particular stubbornness of someone who does not like leaving things unresolved, had other ideas. They kept us going for a little longer, and we agreed to stop for coffee and a friendly bush break at the airstrip itself.
Their persistence paid off. On the way there, on the dirt road, calmly occupying it as though we were the ones intruding, was a pride of nine lions.
For the first fifteen minutes, we were the only vehicle. Just the pride, moving between the bushes and the road, utterly unbothered, and our jeep, and 6 people who were collectively mesmerised.
I forgot about my camera entirely. I just watched. One of the lioness turned and looked directly at me, not at the jeep, specifically at me, and I held her gaze for a moment before my instincts quietly suggested that staring contests with lions were not a category of competition I was likely to win. I lifted the camera, only for her to instantly break eye contact. As it happens, lions do not take stage directions from tourists.
When other jeeps eventually arrived, the atmosphere shifted slightly. But those fifteen minutes belonged to us, unhurried and entirely unrepeatable. Some of the images from that encounter are in this collection. I am glad to have them. And some of what happened on that road stays exactly where it happened, not because I couldn't capture it, but because not every moment needs to be taken anywhere. Some are complete exactly as they are.
Conclusion: Balancing Creative Constraints and Travel Experiences
I came back from Botswana with images I am proud of, images that surprised me, and a clear-eyed understanding of what my lenses could and couldn't do. I also came back with a memory of seven hippos grazing outside a canvas wall, and fifteen minutes alone with a pride of nine lions on a dirt road, and both of those belong to me in a way that no photograph could quite contain.
Would I pack a heavier kit next time? Genuinely, no. I did not enjoy the weight I carried. Something longer and larger is not something I would want to manage across bush planes and delta camps, especially not on a trip that was, at its heart, a family holiday. I would rather be inside the experience than managing equipment at the edge of it.
The rest of it, the constraint, the creativity it demanded, the pictures that exist because I had to think about them rather than simply reach for them, I wouldn't change. Some of the most interesting images I made in Botswana came directly from the limitation. It pushed me toward the landscape, toward light, toward patience. I came back with a body of work that feels like mine, made from the inside of an experience.
The full Botswana collection, including the lion pride, the leopard, and the ghost forest of the delta, is in the Lenstrail gallery →
About the Author:Â Madhvee Deb is a Singapore-based visual artist working primarily through photography. Lenstrail is her ongoing travel documentation project, a visual record of the world, one place at a time.
🙋‍♂️ Frequently Asked Questions (Safari Photography & Gear Planning)
Will I regret not bringing a super-telephoto lens on a once-in-a-lifetime safari?
It entirely depends on what you want to capture. If your primary goal is to bring home high-resolution, magazine-style close-ups of an animal's eyes or fur from hundreds of yards away, a powerful telephoto lens (300mm to 600mm) is absolutely better. However, if your goal is to capture the emotional truth of being there, the context of the wide landscape, and environmental storytelling without managing massive, heavy gear across bush planes, a standard travel kit like a 24-70mm and 70-200mm is deeply rewarding.
How should I choose my lenses for an African safari trip?
Before booking or packing, ask yourself exactly how and what you want to shoot. Are you a wildlife purist tracking distant birds and rare predators, or are you a travel documentarian experiencing a family holiday? For a pure wildlife focus, prioritise reach. For an immersive, artistic experience where you want to remain light on your feet and connected to the environment around you, lean into the creative parameters of shorter focal lengths.
How do you protect camera gear from dust on a safari?
To protect your camera gear from heavy savanna dust, always use a lens hood to shield the front element. Savanna tracks are incredibly punishing on camera bodies and glass. Never wipe a dry lens with a cloth immediately, as the coarse particulate can scratch the front element. First, use a rubber bulb air blower to dislodge loose sand from the sensor and glass. Second, use a dedicated soft brush for stubborn grains on the barrel. Finally, finish with a clean microfibre cloth, and repeat this maintenance routine at the end of every single game drive.
Do I need to bring a tripod on a Botswana safari?
No, you do not need a tripod, and in fact, you will find it entirely impractical. On a mobile safari, you will spend the vast majority of your time shooting from inside a moving or idling jeep. The space is confined, and the engine vibrations from the vehicle will travel right up a tripod's legs, working against your image sharpness anyway. When you need stability for a heavier lens or a slower shutter speed, the most effective solution is to rest your camera or lens directly onto the vehicle’s padded armrests that have adjustable height.
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