Red Sands & Golden Seas of Grassland
The story of how an eleven-day safari in Namibia altered my perception of the world.
“We’re taking a right at that next big tree, then we’re almost there” Smiley, our PH who - true to his name - delivered a reassuring smile filled with optimism as he vaguely gestured to an assortment of “big trees” in the distance. There was a collective chuckle from the group as we put our heads down and trudged on, feet sore from mile nine or ten of a full day of Springbok hunting. The sun began to dip low on the horizon, knee high grass transformed into a living breathing sea of golden flame as each step gave way to endless red sands. My shoulders, warm from the day’s sun, ached from carrying my camera and the rifle earlier in the day - but I didn’t care if we had another 20 miles to go, it was the freest I had felt in months. Welcome to the Kalahari – and welcome to Veronica. Day one of eleven days with ARU Safaris – an experience that altered my perception of the world.
Before we dive in, let’s back up to about 10 months prior – the scene is Grapevine Texas, DSC Summer Expo Gala – By pure fate of the universe I find myself seated next to my brand-new friend PJ Carlton with the Congressional Sportsmen’s Foundation, “Did you see this trip in tonight’s auction?” PJ asks “What a once in a lifetime experience” she notes, pointing to the ARU Veld to Fork package for 12 people in Namibia. The wheels suddenly begin turning in my head and something in my heart grabbed my attention as I read the description - Namibia had already been on my radar as my next African destination. In the next breath I found myself fervently texting my dad, and Bonnie and Jim Matlack under the table, “I think this could be really cool – if I get it are you guys in?” followed by a resounding “We’re in”. Fast forward 15 minutes later and the gavel drops, proclaiming me as the winner and now chief organizer of an eleven-day twelve-person safari in Namibia. “Can I come?!” PJ exclaims as we celebrate my financial irresponsibility and reckless life choices. “Of course, consider it done!” I exclaim – my face numb – the evening crescendos into copious celebration. Many glasses of wine were had.
DSC Summer Expo Gala with Danene, PJ, and I
Within the next week (and much to the relief of my credit card) eight of the twelve spots filled. Around this same time I had been in the process of redeveloping my personal brand, having an extensive background in marketing, media, and photography – and operating in the wildlife space since 2021 as VP of Marketing for WildLife Partners, I had a calling on my heart to do more in the way of human connection, storytelling, and conservation - and craved an outlet for all things “Katie” that couldn’t be channeled into the corporate structure of my current role. Cue the birth of Velvet Lioness – the brand and concept that eats, sleeps, and breathes real-ness in an increasingly digitally disconnected society. Coincidentally, this trip was the embodiment of the Velvet Lioness concept – and I embraced it wholeheartedly.
As the months continued, by some miracle a date that worked for everyone was secured, and departure was set for May 2026. Despite the first eight spots filling immediately, the remaining spots screeched to a standstill – as the weeks went on, I worried “What if they don’t fill” but I carried the faith and the constant reminder that the people intended to be on the trip, would be on the trip. And the universe delivered.
Fast forward to May 2026 – as we touched down at Hosea Kutako International Airport in Windhoek, my seatmate exclaimed “My god, I’ve never seen it look this way!” an endless sea of golden grassland extended as far as the eye could see – we had arrived. As my feet hit the tarmac for the first time it felt like a weight had been lifted that I had been carrying for longer than I’d care to admit, we were here, this was real – Welcome to Namibia.
A few hours later we arrived at Veronica Lodge, the first leg of our journey. Nestled on the edge of the Kalahari - and despite being thousands of miles away from everything that was familiar I immediately felt a sense of home, comfortability, and belonging. The lodge and our hosts, Mia and Petri, were warm and welcoming, and it became abundantly clear early on that despite me largely being the common denominator - the group was going to get along just fine. At Veronica everyone settled into the daily routine of early morning hunts, lunch and siesta, and afternoon hunts followed by evenings filled with laughter, deep conversation around the bush TV (fireside), and a sense of camaraderie that is difficult to find in today’s modern world. As part of the Veld to Fork Experience we got to learn about the inner workings of ARU, and their commitment to sustainability through the butchery, which boasts a less than 5% waste on every carcass harvested.
The group enjoying sundowners at Veronica.
Our days at Veronica passed quickly, jovially, and filled with a sense of peace and happiness – free from the constraints of modern society’s expectations. But soon it was time to migrate and begin the second leg of our journey, after emotional farewells we transitioned into the wild untamed beauty that is Kalakwa.
If Veronica was golden seas of never-ending fiery grasslands, soft red sands cushioning each step, and a sense of coming home in a faraway land – then Kalakwa was like stepping back in time – Think the Great Gatsby meets safari. At any moment you might expect to see Hemingway sipping high tea on the veranda out of the corner of your eye. Each element was so richly curated, clearly crafted from a place of love and a passion for the natural world. Iron chandeliers were complemented by exquisite teacup patterns and hides and taxidermy were bathed in amber candlelight.
The wildlife was abundant, that was clear from our first evening’s game drive – a well-balanced ecosystem and ideal environment for the photography and hunting enthusiast alike – Interestingly labels I realized I now give myself.
I didn’t grow up hunting and only began to gain a true understanding and appreciation for its contribution to conservation in recent years. A few months before our arrival in Namibia, I sat down at DSC with Danene Van Der Westhuyzen, owner, operator, and visionary of ARU, and we had a conversation that truly resonated with the type of hunter I aspire to be. “If you’re not set on anything specific, I find its best to get out there in the bush and see what nature reveals.” Danene suggested, after I explained I didn’t have a set goal in mind. For me, hunting isn’t about pulling the trigger on a big trophy, but about connecting with nature in the most intimate way, noticing every detail in how the sun reflects off the grass, feeling every sore muscle and scrape of a branch, immersing yourself in the stillness of the wild and knowing that when the decision is made to take a life, the ripple effect of that choice reaches well beyond yourself and extends to a greater purpose. In our conversation, Danene also noted the Hartmann’s Mountain Zebra, a species that hadn’t previously been on my radar, “The mountain Zebra is also an incredible and unique hunt, if you come all the way to Namibia, you must consider a Mountain Zebra – you won’t regret it.”
Fast forward three months to a chilly Namibian morning, dawn breaking over the mountain range in soft purple and gold hues, we bounce along in the safari vehicle, breaths visible, hands tucked away in our jacket pockets as our PH, Amon, scans the mountain for evidence of zebra. A short while later we’re in a single file assembly, steeply ascending the rocky brush covered mountainside in pursuit of a Hartmann’s Mountain Zebra. Reflecting on the next few hours of the hunt, I recall an overwhelming sense of gratitude as we crept through the bush – for my healthy body that is able to carry me though these experiences, for my comrades who were there step for step as committed as I was, and for every chapter of my life that led me to this surreal time and place on the far side of the world. Ultimately the hunt was a success, a single shot and short distance later the zebra had fallen. A beautiful symbol of the circle of life, a harvest that would feed families and contribute financially to the wildlife infrastructure of ARU.
Our PH Amon, Me, and Blake Wilhelmi scouting for a Hartmann’s Zebra
All too quickly the days passed at Kalakwa - we indulged in wonderful meals filled with laughter and great conversation, more hunting, sundowners on the mountainside, chaotic horseback riding through the desert, and even a tutorial on beekeeping thrown in. There was never a dull moment as we reached the morning of our ninth day – The day of the Rhino Royale.
If you’re not familiar with the Rhino Royale – this is the crescendo of the ARU experience, a white-glove-black-tie multi-course affair in the middle of the African bush – complete with strict instructions to be ready to depart no later than 5pm. Coincidentally, this was also the day I volunteered to accompany Erica Tergeson, Director of Government Affairs for DSC, and her PH Eddie Agenbach on her Hartmann’s Zebra Hunt.
Throughout the week Eddie, Erica, and PJ had been wildly successful in their hunting excursions, and I expected nothing less on Erica’s final hunt for the zebra. The crisp morning drive was longer than previous days, “We’re going to a secret spot” Eddie divulged as we bounced along – I soon realized “secret spot” meant rough, rugged, and remote. “Bring it on” I thought to myself as we departed on foot into a bowl of a mountain range, quietly falling into step - Eddie, Erica, and me. Soon enough we crossed signs of zebra activity, fresh poop and tracks, and shortly thereafter visual confirmation in the binoculars. After a slow and difficult stalk up the mountainside the group we were pursuing went over the top and out of range. Not the least bit discouraged, Eddie made a game plan to hike to the opposite mountainside and glass for other activity. “There’s a group on that far ridge,” Eddie noted to Erica as we took a rest on a high point about an hour later – as they conversed amongst themselves, I was again struck with an overwhelming sense of gratitude for this time, this place, and this moment – seated high upon the ridgeline, not a man made structure as far as the eye could see – this was heaven. In the next beat Eddie and Erica looked back at me simultaneously, the decision having been made to pursue the zebra on the farthest ridge, “You good?” Eddie asked, with a half-quirked smile. “All good.” I responded with a grin as I got to my feet, time to buckle up.
We trekked as quietly and carefully as possible across some of the most difficult terrain I’d ever traversed, at times leaning vertically on the upward slope of the mountain, ducking beneath low hanging branches and stepping over brush and rocks – mind you I had also brought along my camera, a very expensive and fragile 10lb electronic strapped to my back - and I would do it again. I’m not sure how much time passed as we approached the peak of the ridge, but we arrived successfully, our presence still undetected by the zebra. Eddie guided Erica into range - a single shot and a few moments later the zebra was down - success.
But the work, and day, had only just begun.
After a final, and seemingly extra difficult climb to the near summit we reached the fallen stallion and I was struck by the sheer natural beauty of the scene, jagged mountainside extended to the left and right and the valley we had just traversed spread before us, delicate clouds floated lazily by on a pristine blue canvas. The time was 11:10am – less than six hours until we had to be black-tie ready for the Rhino Royale. A short while later after adrenaline and emotions settled it was time for a plan “I’m not able to reach anyone,” Eddie informed us lowering his phone, contemplative “I’m going to have to hike back and get help, I’ll be back soon.” Erica and I watched him disappear into the bush, quickly blending out of sight. Despite nearly three hours passing, time passed oddly - simultaneously slowly and quickly, just Erica, the Zebra, and I. We talked about our lives at home, life’s heartbreaks, and a shared sense of pride over the group and everyone’s contribution to the dynamic. As we began to doze off under the minimal shade that was available, a distant echo met our ears and a short while later the crew arrived.
Erica and I with her zebra - Somewhere in the Namibian bush.
Out of breath and carrying an assortment of knives and tools, the skinner and his assistants set to work. Eddie, bless him, pulled two cold Windhoek beers from his rucksack “Priorities,” he said with a grin – passing the iconic green cans to Erica and I, who needs water when you can have a beer. Beers in hand we sat back and watched the crew get started on skinning and quartering the zebra – it was clear there would be minimal waste as they meticulously worked – each cut precise, a well-oiled machine. In no time at all the zebra was skinned, quartered, and headed down the mountain, I was in awe of the sheer strength and endurance of team as we all made our way back to the trucks.
By 3:45pm we were loaded and back on a main road headed in the direction of the lodge – no lunch or siesta for Erica, Eddie, or I before the Rhino Royale. Regardless we laughed and sang along to the radio, windows down, sun on our faces “That was pretty badass,” I noted as we cheers-ed - life was good.
At 4:05pm we pulled up to the lodge tired, hungry, dirty, and full of enthusiasm - 55 minutes till go-time with not a moment to lose. I dashed to my chalet and managed to get ready with enough time to spare to slam two espressos and a few Biscoff while the African blow dryer (the Namibian breeze) dried my hair – thank goodness for natural curls. As the rest of the group emerged in their finery I couldn’t help but appreciate the contrast of the moment –delicate beauty and sophistication went hand in hand with the wild and untamed elegance of Africa.
“After a short introduction the double doors were cast open, and we were met with a scene that rendered me speechless.”
Finally, the Rhino Royale was upon us, after a short game drive we arrived at a charmingly historic-looking building nestled in the bush, Danene ever the figure of poise and grace awaiting our arrival. After a short introduction the double doors were cast open, and we were met with a scene that rendered me speechless. Ruggedly wild charm met detailed beauty as nature and sophistication clashed under the same roof in the best way possible – our senses were met with candlelight, chandeliers, fresh flowers, open fires, hides and detailed linens, and a musical score that transported you back in time. Every element was measured and thoughtful from the tiniest glass to gold painted skulls and vintage chaise lounges. In that moment I was awestruck, the realization that the vision on my heart for Velvet Lioness already existed within Danene, and that I wasn’t alone in my desire to bring two worlds that I cherished together, that there are other people who crave and create beauty in such a way that honors human connection and the natural world simultaneously.
I took a moment to collect myself as the party immediately dove into full swing, the evening progressed with a jovial cadence as we eventually transitioned into a multi-course dinner that represented the elements of Namibia. More than 20 guests were seated around the long wooden table and over the course of a couple of hours we shared meaningful toasts and conversation, laughter, and even a few tears. It was an evening I won’t soon forget that carried on well into the night filled with drinks, dancing, and a carefree ease that made you forget everything but that moment and the people within it.
The next morning came with a stark contrast to the prior evening’s festivities, the sunrise arrived quietly, ready or not. The gentle sounds of the bush jostled me awake as reality hit like a ton of bricks – our final day. I was physically and emotionally raw, like a wound that just had the bandage taken off, exposed to the elements. I took the morning to regroup and have some time to myself to collect my thoughts. As the day progressed into afternoon a small group of us decided to take part in the guided rhino walk, one of the few activities on the agenda we hadn’t tackled yet.
An hour later as the sun began its descent, we followed our guide through the bush and quickly found ourselves walking amongst some of the most ancient and majestic beings on the planet. Wading through waist high golden grass, we were in the proximity of two White Rhinos who were mostly unbothered by our presence. Duncan Irvine, our trip’s official videographer whispered, “Want to try and get closer?” “Hell yeah I do,” I whispered back, camera in hand, as we slowly closed the gap between the rhino and us. It was a surreal moment being less than 100 yards from a beautiful White Rhino thriving on hundreds of thousands of acres – not confined to a zoo or small sanctuary, horn intact.
In that moment an unexpected wave of emotion cascaded over me as the weight of our experiences over the last 10 days hit me: the months of planning, the sheer delight at the group dynamic, the quiet moments and the loud ones, strangers that became family, and a connection to the earth that is not easily found when you return to “real life”. As we walked back to the truck, silent tears rolled down my cheeks, my fingertips grazing the tall grasses as I tried to take a mental snapshot of every detail that flooded my memory. This would be a moment – and an adventure - not easily forgotten.
At the beginning of this story, I made a statement that this trip, these people, and this experience, altered my perception of the world. I hope in reading it you felt a part of that. To conclude, I leave you with one of my favorite quotes, "There is something about safari life that makes you forget all your sorrows and feel as if you had drunk half a bottle of champagne - bubbling over with heartfelt gratitude for being alive."- Karen Blixen
“There is something about safari life that makes you forget all your sorrows and feel as if you had drunk half a bottle of champagne - bubbling over with heartfelt gratitude for being alive.”