Grateful for having survived the night in the bush following the previous evening's bedtime stories, we jumped back into the mokoros for one last time. Slowly meandering back, I resisted the urge to slip into a mid morning nap and instead took a mental snapshot - reflecting on the experience of the last few days - as nearby birds chirped and hippos bathed.

Gratitudes and goodbyes expressed, a couple of the polers kindly invited us to see their village, showing us their homes built from termite mounds and using aluminium cans as brickwork. As a community, they share work (including the trips into the delta) on a roster system and share in the outcomes to ensure a fair distribution of resources. I find opening yourself up to places like this and discovering how the locals live helps to develop a keener sense of culture to take home and have a positive impact on my lifestyle.

Back in Maun, hype was building for the upcoming scenic flight over the Okavango. Due to the extra cost involved and funds being tight (thanks London and your ridiculous renting costs) I hadn't planned on being on board the plane when it took off. However, after hearing strong reviews from previous passengers on the ground in Botswana, I decided that this would be a once in a lifetime opportunity, one that I couldn't afford to miss - you can always make more money but experiences like this don't come along very often. Perils of being part of the YOLO/FOMO generation, eh?

Clambering into the 7-seater Cessna with my air bound companions, we were grateful that there were only 4 of us. In a stripped back light aircraft like this, to say space was at a premium would be an understatement.

Taking to the clear blue skies to cruise at 2,000 feet, we were greeted by the sheer scale and beauty of the delta. Waterways and lush grasslands snake as far as the eye can see, glinting in the sunlight before disappearing into the mist and over the horizon. It became clear that our time on the ground in the delta barely scratched the surface of this place and there was much more to explore from above in our dinky plane.

Within a couple of minutes, we had cleared even the tiniest of villages and were now in the wild heart of the Okavango. On cue, hoards of animals presented themselves far below; inviting a closer look. Our pilot duly obliged, descending to barely above the tree line for a series of flybys. If we'd been any closer, I think a few of the taller giraffes would have been given a free haircut.

The childlike, jubilant atmosphere shared inside the plane was reminiscent of driving through the zoo as a kid. "ELEPHANTS!", "GIRAFFES!", "Nilpferd! (Hippo, in German)" we would excitedly call out and point, thrusting a finger onto the window on sight. As we banked for a second look, we were thrown around by the g force pulling and pushing on the tiny plane. As we began to lose the light, the pilot pulled up for a final time to soar over the landscape and set course for the airport. The chance to see such an abundance of wildlife from this unique perspective will stay with me forever.

The pilot: seriously, coolest job ever. Flying over the Okavango, scanning the ground for wildlife and dipping down with the freedom to execute sharp manoeuvres to get as close as possible must be a dream. One suspects his constant grin wasn't a facade merely worn for us tourists.

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