Review: Singita Explore, Tanzania

Singita Explore is a complete departure from the usual Singita playbook. This is, after all, the greatest safari company on earth, built on an unwavering commitment to luxury. Yet, instead of following their well-established formula—think Sasakwa, Ebony, Lebombo—they decided to try something different.  And that different thing? A product that is noticeably inferior to the rest of their portfolio. Why? No idea. But apparently, it’s a thing, and that thing is Singita Explore.

It’s an exclusive-use camp, but instead of paying for the whole setup, you’re charged per person. So if you take the entire camp—as I did—then every single person here is looking after you, and only you, while you terrorise them with endless requests. One man’s dream is another’s dictatorship.  The problem is, they forgot the luxury bit.

Getting there

I arrived from Singita Faru Faru, which was about a one-hour drive. If you’re coming via the usual route—flying from Kilimanjaro to Grumeti—the flight takes around 1 hour 15 minutes, followed by a 40-ish minute drive from the airstrip to Singita Explore.

Setting

Singita Explore was originally designed as a mobile camp, which made sense given its purpose. However, thanks to some lighting pollution issues, it has now settled into a more permanent existence.  And due to planning restrictions in this part of the reserve, permanent concrete structures aren’t allowed, which explains why we’re left with something so blatantly sub-optimal.  If only Singita had another camp in its portfolio for inspiration. If only, just 20 minutes away, there was one of the best tented accommodations in the world—say, at a place called Singita Sabora. But alas, we can’t all be so lucky.

Not all of us were born with good looks.

Facilities

There are two Explore camps, each completely out of sight from the other, so it does feel very private. They’re about five minutes apart, each existing in its own little pocket of wilderness, far enough away that you could almost convince yourself no one else is here.  Because, well, no one is. Although come night, being close to the national park, you’ll see distant lodge lights flickering on the horizon, a reminder that elsewhere, people are experiencing air conditioning.

But in terms of the facilities, this is going to be short.  There’s a mess tent, which is the main area, and that might sound grand, but it’s a lounge and dining area, with a bar.  Outdoor dining is an option too—you can eat under the stars near boma, or even have of lunch outdoors under the shade.  Otherwise, there’s a toilet nearby, and that does start to feel like a luxury.

Oh wait, I almost forgot—there’s a swimming pool. And by that, I mean an above-ground structure, awkwardly standing there with a few sad-looking deckchairs beside it, making those of you who live in motels feel at home.  And if you’re expecting a spa or gym? Keep dreaming. What you get instead is a yoga mat, a kettlebell, a skipping rope, and two dumbbells in your tent, which is all very ambitious until you realise working out in this heat is an act of pure self-hatred.

It’s so basic here that when I wanted to give a tip at the end (yes, actual money, not “don’t eat yellow snow” written on a napkin), there were not even any card machines here, so I had to be driven to Sabora.  It’s like their own hippie commune where money isn’t a real construct, man.  Except the Singita rates.

Room

This is, without question, the most basic Singita property—to the point where it doesn’t even feel like a Singita. More like the pet project of a delusional madman, cobbled together in a garden shed, paraded onto Shark Tank with wild-eyed enthusiasm, only to be brutally eviscerated within seconds.

The six canvas tents are spaced out for privacy, with three on each side of the mess tent, showing at least the symmetry gods are pleased, if nothing else. But make no mistake, this is a stripped-down, old-school safari experience.  These are tents in the truest sense—you zip yourself in and out, like some kind of peasant, and while they do have large netted windows for airflow and panoramic views, the views are mostly just grass and the wind is as effective at cooling you down as someone gently blowing on your toes, as you’re naked, laying face down on hot coals, and your scrotum is being liquified.

Let’s start with the shower situation, which requires you to request hot or cold water in advance. What kind of savagery is this? It’s just you, a bucket, and a choice you had to make 15 minutes ago. There’s no air conditioning, just a fan weakly flapping at the heat, with such vigour that you’re convinced it’s doing something, until you realise that was just a delusion and you’re having heatstroke. For some, this is hell, for me, I’m here to explore my inner self and who am I kidding why am I here?  Save me.  The noise is maddening, the effectiveness minimal, and my iPhone refused to charge because it was overheating. If you want to know what it feels like to be mummified while a red-hot poker is shoved up your arse, you’re in luck.

Sleeping? Difficult. The tent walls slope, meaning you can’t sit up in bed—if you try, the canvas pushes back, your pillow slides away, and you’re left questioning your life choices. There’s no phone to call for help, just the trusty old-school safari method of flashing a torch, hoping someone spots your distress. At least there’s WiFi, a small mercy in this oven of suffering. Yes, it’s ridiculously hot this time of year, but I live in England, where it’s freezing year-round except for three random days, and even we have air conditioning at home. The fact that I had to come all the way to Tanzania to sweat out every bad decision I’ve ever made is something I’ll never quite recover from. If it had air conditioning, I could have forgiven a lot more.  But without it, it was unbearable.

Size-wise, the room is fine, but it doubles as the living space, so everything is in one area. A luggage rack sits next to the bed, with a desk at the foot. There are USB ports and power outlets on one side of the bed, which I guess must have somehow given it a five star rating. The bed is encased in a mosquito net—not even a net, really, more like a full-on mosquito cage. It’s so over-the-top that it actually makes you feel less safe, because why does this level of defense exist? What, exactly, are they trying to keep out?

The bathroom is separated by a single sheet of cloth, so privacy is optional at best. The toilet is right next to the sink, which is also a little too close to the bed, even for someone alone. There’s a single vanity and no door, because why would there be?

Outside, there’s a shaded area with a dining table for two, some chairs, and a storage space. There’s also some kind of sunbed/hammock situation, which, in theory, sounds pleasant, but in this heat, is what the United Nations calls torture.

The whole setup makes you feel like a slob, because showering is like a planned war game and changing clothes is a hassle in a small, sauna-like space. After a shower, I immediately felt the need to get dressed, purely out of self-preservation from whatever flying army was lurking outside. And despite my best efforts, I still got bitten to hell—including on my feet, while wearing socks all day.

There is one thing I do love, though—the proximity to nature. Much like Sabora (though that camp is far more luxurious and has air conditioning), this is a place where you hear lions roaring and hyenas cackling right outside your tent.  And the mosquito next is like a cage so you’re practically invincible.

Service

You would hope the service would be on it, when it’s only me staying there, and luckily it was.  There’s only a few people working here, so you get to really know the team, and everyone was lovely.  They managed to snag me a Tempur pillow as well, which was one up on what Faru Faru managed, so that set the right tone.

Food-wise, you do have a private chef, but for an exclusive-use camp, it felt oddly restrictive—more structured than any other Singita property. Lunch was a prime example: I requested 12:30, sat down at 12:30, and the food arrived immediately—no choice, no discussion. It felt a bit like Great Plains in the old days, when meal service was more regimented than expected. And the beef was so tough I could have turned it into my next pair of shoes.

Dinner was better organised. They actually read out the menu beforehand, allowing me to request any changes. The meal itself was fantastic, but the portion sizes could have fed a small village—or at least four very hungry people (possibly eighteen if they weren’t all that hungry).  After a discussion about this, they started talking to me beforehand about the menu.

Activities

You’re in Grumeti, a 350,000-acre private reserve under Singita’s exclusive control.  It’s one of the best safari territories on the planet. The nearest property, Singita Sabora, is about 20 minutes away, with Sasakwa another 40 beyond that. The big advantage of this is a well-connected guide network. If sightings were scarce, my guide simply checked in with others, and we zipped off to wherever the action was.

Night drives are also possible (you need to be back at camp by 10 pm), which I always love. Once again, the lions contributed absolutely nothing to the experience, as is their way, but it was still a pleasure just being out there in the dark, surrounded by the unknown.

The best moment of the trip was an incredible interaction between leopards, hyenas, and baboons—a perfect showcase of why safari is never dull. A mother leopard and her cub had been walking for miles, finally returning to a kill the mother had made earlier. Just as they were recovering in the shade, a hyena stormed in and stole the kill—which was bad enough, but then, because nature has a dark sense of humor, a troop of baboons arrived and started chasing the young cub for good measure. Chaos erupted. The mother leopard fought back, trying to reclaim the meal, but the hyena wasn’t budging. Eventually, as hyenas do, it got bored, ran off… and then changed its mind and came back again.

And that’s why I love safari—it’s never predictable. In Grumeti, there are endless good moments.  It’s easily one of my favourite places on earth, and it’s very fortunate that there are better lodges here to experience it.  Luckily for them, they’re also owned by Singita.

Kids Friendly

Children are welcome – whether they’d be happy is another thing.

Better alternatives

Singita Sabora

Grumeti, Tanzania

4/5

Singita Faru Faru

Tanzania

4.5/5

Singita Sasakwa

Grumeti, Tanzania

5/5

The Good

• Service

The Bad

• Very basic facilities
• Lack of air conditioning
• Much better options nearby – all of them called Singita.

The Luxurious

• Access to the Grumeti reserve

Conclusion

The concept is solid—you buy out the entire camp but only pay for the number of people in your group. In theory, great. In practice? It feels like the ugly stepchild of Singita—like they know it exists but don’t quite know what to do with it. Yes, you can argue there’s something charming about the old school design and basic facilities, but why come to a Singita for that?

Coming from Faru Faru felt like Al Pacino coming off an Oscar win to star in 2011’s Jack and Jill.  The only element I preferred here was that I didn’t have to hike half a marathon back to my room.

Who is it for? People wanting a buyout, without paying for a buyout.  If you want exclusivity on a budget (well, relatively speaking), this is your loophole.

They say progress happens slowly, and then all at once. If I handed you an iPhone from 2011, you’d think it was a relic of the dark ages, yet back then, we were slamming them onto tables in meetings, convinced we were tech gods. Singita Explore is that iPhone from 2011—what was once cutting-edge now feels stuck in time. It’s exactly how Great Plains used to be, before they figured out that people like getting something for their money that’s a few levels up from abuse.  It’s a throwback to a safari era that’s best left behind.