Review: North Island Okavango, Botswana

When North Island Okavango first opened, it arrived with a flurry of press coverage.  Maybe it was the swagger of borrowing the name of one of the world’s most famous private islands.  Or maybe it was the post-Covid exclusivity play—the sort of ultra-private, low-room-count launch that’s become more the norm.  They started with just three rooms, after all.  Naturally, I was curious.  A small, intimate camp in a remote corner of the Delta, sold as hyper-exclusive, hyper-private, and tricking my subconscious into thinking I’m in the Seychelles.  But the real question is—beyond the name, beyond the PR—is it actually any good?

Getting there

From Maun, it’s a 40-minute light aircraft flight to Kadizora airstrip, followed by a 15-minute drive into camp.  Or take a helicopter and land barely 5 minutes away.

I came in by helicopter from Jack’s Camp.  The first hour was mind-numbing, like watching a screensaver of paint drying.  The landscape resembled all the greyness of your old high school geography teacher, and the landscape wouldn’t have even warranted a mention in your old geography book.  It was just this vast emptiness of boredom, in physical form.  But the final 45 minutes over the Delta was epic—channels, floodplains, actual movement, signs of life.

Setting

No, it’s not that North Island.  Despite the name, this isn’t the one in Seychelles with the tortoises and Prince William flashbacks.  This North Island is in the Okavango Delta, set on a private island surrounded by a patchwork of floodplains.  The camp isn’t fenced, so animals are free to wander through at will. You’ll hear hippos from your room, and sometimes see them too. They’re less majestic when snorting directly beneath your deck at 2am.

North Island sits in the northern Okavango Delta, inside the NG23A concession—a 77,000-acre patch of wild that’s mostly private, mostly quiet, and mostly excellent for game.  The concession is shared with one other Natural Selection property, but it still feels relatively exclusive—unless you end up on NG12, which borders it. That’s a different story.  Not so different you’re going to feel like you’re in the middle of the Mara, but for Botswana standards, busy.  During my stay, we dipped into it to follow a lion.  And then afterwards shared a bush breakfast spot—shared, as in multiple lodges just pulling up and setting tables within metres of each other.

Back on NG23A, sightings were calmer but complicated by very tall grass, making predator spotting a game of guesswork and luck.  Things should open in October, but the heat will make it less desirable to be there, but in August it did push us more towards NG23A.

Facilities

The main area is split across two large tents flanking the entrance: one for lounging with bar, another for dining with kitchen.  The other houses the dining area with an open-plan kitchen, which is beautifully lit at night and legit elegant. There’s a single long dining table inside—but no communal dining, thanks to all gods and sane people.  

Design wise, much more modern.  Definitely no signs of colonialism here, thank you very much.  I kept thinking back to my stay at Molori Mashuma, as there was a similar vibe to it, although the eccentricity was dialled down here.

Around the main area there’s a pizza oven, and a star‑gazing deck which, lacking a telescope, is really just a deck with… stars.  A firepit sits close to the water.  The main area has plenty of lounge seating—not quite Singita’s labyrinth of sofas, but enough to feel like you’ve got options.  And in front of the restaurant there’s a barstool deck looking out over the channel.

I’ll give kudos to the gift shop/library hybrid.  I get the need for auxiliary income, but most safari boutiques have this vaguely hostile energy, like you’re being watched cos you’re five seconds away from going all Heat on them.  They open it up for you, stand silently in the corner, and stare while you pretend to care about beaded bracelets.  This was the best implementation I’ve seen. It’s integrated into the lodge, combined with a proper library, and actually inviting.  There are chairs facing out towards the water, so you can sit with a book, then wander back inside and get guilt-tricked into buying your nine-thousandth soft toy of the trip because you left your kids at home.

Also, there’s a gym.  A real one.  Treadmill, functional trainer, exercise bike, even a punching bag—plus decent views.  No air-con (just two ceiling fans), and it was strange to see a new property with old equipment that’s clearly worn, but let’s not nit pick.

Next to it is a single-room spa.  Lovely setup, but there was no therapist available.  Which did summarise this property perfectly.

My big annoyance: no Wi-Fi in the main area.  I know, I know—”digital detox,” “connect with nature,” all that bollocks.  But when you’re travelling solo, there’s only so much deep eye contact you want to make with your lamb shank.  My meals are scoffed like the lions are coming any minute, , and then it’s straight back to the room.  Singita figured this out years ago: offering Wi-Fi everywhere doesn’t turn everyone into monsters.  Well, as long as we stay off Twitter.

In-room internet is there.  Well, technically.  In reality, it was flaky to the point of unusable.  God, I wanted to punch it.  My god, I really do need to stay off Twitter.  

Room

There are 7 rooms at North Island, including one family suite.  The rooms are spread far apart—properly spaced, not just “here’s a bush in between.” I was in Room 5, the closest to the lodge, and it still took a bit of thought to whether it was worth the walk back.  If you’re in Room 7 (the family unit), bring a water bottle and a donkey.  Room 7 is the two-bedroom option, with a shared living space and the only thing on site that could reasonably be called a swimming pool.  The bedrooms and bathrooms are identical to the one-beds, just copied and pasted with a sofa in between.

The design once again gave me Molori flashbacks—which is neither a compliment or insult.  The layout, the views over the watering hole, and the mesh-and-canvas vibe that tries to sell “natural immersion” while giving you absolutely no protection from sound, light, or hippo snorts at 3am.  It has this more modern feel to it, without being wow. It’s generic, not in a bad way, just no sense of place or particularly memorable.  It won’t offend anyone. It’s like getting a hand job, it’s alright, but you know there’s something better out there.

It’s a style of design that everyone is now calling Handjob Luxury.  By everyone, I mean me.

If you’re hoping for separation between the bedroom and bathroom, technically it exists—you just need to unroll a canvas sheet and secure it somehow.  No one knows how.  So for all practical purposes, it’s open-plan.  But none of that matters as the bedroom offers air-conditioning.  Sweet, sweet, air conditioning.  The room has those fully netted walls so you can see out from almost every corner—bathroom, bedroom, toilet, the lot.  So the air conditioning comes in even more handy, as it rapidly escapes the room faster than an elevator filled with farts.

Speaking of which, as you enter the room there’s one of the two toilets, with conveniently placed by the entrance in case your bladder is faster than your check-in.  And you’re in Africa, where the check-in process spans several lunar cycles.

The living room is bright and functional with a sofa, chairs, and a minibar, naturally not stocked with anything I’d requested.  Outside you get a small plunge pool, a sunken seating area facing the watering hole, two loungers, and a small table with chairs.

The bed faces outward with a luggage storage area tucked in behind, and a further set of shelves behind that. There’s a chair in the corner with a foot rest, which is the most comfortable place in the room. There’s a small desk with a few charging ports, mercifully some plugs by the bed, and a well-placed master light switch, thank you very much.  Master switch is always appreciated and makes total sense, which is more than can be said for the rest of the lighting controls.  You basically fumble around in the dark, press random buttons, and hope you haven’t just triggered a distress flare.  None of the signage is lit, so when you return at night, the entire experience is like breaking into your own room.  Add some motion sensors near the light switches and job done. There’s also a ceiling fan, so combined with the air conditioning, a good nights sleep awaits.

The bathroom is huge, mostly with space taken up for the shower. There’s a double vanity, a toilet, a big bathtub, and an indoor shower so large it has a bench, in case you want to do a Forrest Gump and tell your entire life story to a bunch of strangers, but naked. There’s also an outdoor shower if you want to be clean and exposed at the same time.

It’s all perfectly comfortable and very usable.  It doesn’t have the footprint or design flair of somewhere like Jack’s or Jao. But it does exactly what you need.

And that’s kind of the story here—it all works.  The room doesn’t try to be a design icon, but it’s comfortable, thoughtful in places, frustrating in others.  You will spend time cursing the shower controls, where it takes ages to get warm, and then if you adjust it by a nats testicle, it is either boiling or freezing. You’ll wonder why there’s a sign telling you to use the tablet to WhatsApp management and then no tablet.  But you’ll also appreciate the views, the quiet, and the fact that someone had the sense to put air conditioning in a tent. There’s room for improvement, but no dealbreakers.  Unless you count the elephants holding a rave outside your room.  In which case—welcome to safari.  Elephants around the room at 1am, very noisey bastards.  Obviously a cool thing, you’re on safari.  But wish they were just that tad quieter.

Service

The service at North Island felt like it had been soft-launched.  And the staff had only just found out.

I filled out the Stay List—dietaries, preferences, all the usual details—but it was completely ignored.  So much so that the chef came out to ask about my dietary needs in person, purely to highlight that no one had passed anything on.  I told them I don’t drink—wine kept being offered.  Said I didn’t want a starter with my first meal—it was brought anyway.  Dessert just showed up without explanation.

The team also didn’t seem to know who I was.  I was asked to introduce myself to staff repeatedly throughout the stay, as though I’d just wandered in off the floodplain.

Ask a question and you’re likely to get a group huddle, followed by a guess.  The whole thing lacked coordination, consistency, and basic communication.  It simply isn’t good enough.  But the worst point was how soulless the place felt.  Africans are incredibly kind, giving people – there is an atmosphere around a camp that reflects that.  Not here.  Here it was like someone just cancelled their favourite TV show.

Food

I want to tell you that the food outshined the service and the two had nothing in common with each other, like it somehow transcended the madness around it.  I want to tell you that.  But instead I shall tell you the truth.

Like how the only thing I told the chef was my hatred of olives.  Lunch comes with salad covered in it.  It is Molori in Botswana form.

Afternoon tea.  One day a rather pitiful selection of a single sweet snack, plus another savoury, both accompanied by a swarm of wasps.  I walk over and someone is bringing water, which I think is nice, but turns out it was for themselves.  Afternoon tea on second day was much better with these pastry chicken options and a sliced Swiss roll.  My favourite was the pear and apple smoothie.

Dinner orders are taken at afternoon tea, but only two choices are offered for the main, with a starter you don’t choose and aren’t told about in advance.  One night: lamb shank (excellent, I’d have eaten it again), followed by a white chocolate dessert that was genuinely lovely.

Lunch offered no choice whatsoever – just whatever they decided to serve.  One day it was “pizza day”—choose your own toppings and the chef cooks it on the spot.  Surprisingly good, and made in under five minutes.  Came with a Greek salad that was so dry it could have been dug out of the sand.  Another day the lamb was so tough I could have worn it as a belt for the next ten years.

Takeaway breakfasts were minimal: a bit of cereal, some fruit, some yoghurt.  Nothing substantial.  The pre-morning-activity spread was better: fresh pancakes, fruit, and biscuits, with hot drinks in flasks you can take with you.

Sundowners, were on the depressing side.  Some crisps, a few nuts, and the general vibe of a mini bar after everyone’s already raided it. There’s also no snacks in the room, which is a rarity.  I wasn’t sure whether to thank them on behalf of my waistline or hate them on behalf of my stomach.

So I think I’m saying “room for improvement”.

Activities

North Island offers the full Delta checklist: game drives, boating, mokoro (canoe) trips, catch-and-release fishing, and night drives until 10pm.  Tick.

My guide, James (name tag proudly read James 007), has seamingly worked at almost every camp in Botswana.  And it shows.  He could have taken my job, the son of a bitch – he knew the camps so well.  Also, a very kind, knowledgeable man.  I liked him a lot.  We also had a trainee guide riding along, probably because all the other guides have all quit in recent months/years.

The vehicle was a 7-seater, and depending on where you’re sitting, the suspension may end up giving you a slipped disc and a morphine addiction.  This is not a fast pace to get around due to all the flooding, so it can be like an aquantic rollercoaster at times.  I think they call them boats.

Boat activities were solid, though the departure felt extremely commercial – more Venice than wilderness.  Lots of boats lining up like they were waiting to dock at the Santorini cruise port.  Same story with the shared breakfast stop —eight vehicles lined up around one poor folding table.

Sightings, though?  Excellent.

• Lion chasing buffalo at full speed—for all of five seconds, before giving up. We’ve all been there – trying to show off, only to look like a bit of a twat.
• Three leopards together, including two actively fighting.
• Youngest hyenas I’ve ever seen: three of them, maybe two weeks old, being violated by what may go down as the worst mother in the Botswana.  She tossed sand on them while they were trying to feed, then casually laid on one until it squealed like a tea kettle, and eventually could be arsed to move.

Wildlife density was excellent; the Delta delivered.

Kids Friendly

Children aged 6 and up are welcome. There’s one dedicated family room, which keeps things contained—and vaguely childproof. There’s also talk of a standalone villa in the works, which should make things even easier for families… assuming it actually gets built.

The Good

• Room
• Facilities

The Bad

• Service
• Food

The Luxurious

• Location
• Activities

Conclusion

North Island has a kind of Molori-level naïveté to it, like it just opened yesterday.  Except it didn’t.  It was initially sold to the media as an ultra-exclusive, three-room safari mecca.  Now there are seven.  Nothing wrong with that—lots of lodges expand in phases—but the problem is, it feels like it’s still in phase one.

The facilities are good.  The location is fantastic.  Game viewing is excellent.  But the food needs rethinking, and the service needs—well—thinking at all. There’s no head guide.  No heads of department.  No one actually in charge.  Which makes zero sense. There’s also the atmosphere of an elephant graveyard.

Things just haven’t been thought through.  Like how the vehicles awkwardly have to turn around and come back on themselves just to park at the arrival.  Or how giving a tip somehow became more hassle than just throwing my wallet at their face and making a run for it.  Even the farewell was a non-event, like the last crumb of care they had was removed from their breath and I was quietly shuffled out into the car, like an old buffalo going off to die.

Strangely, the part that impressed me most was what happened after I left.  I gave quite extensive feedback to my guide, perhaps the only person there that deserves some credit, and to his further credit, HQ followed up with me to talk through it in detail.  So there’s clearly intent to improve, even if it’s come too late for this review.