There is something poetic about two flames being lit in the same year, in the same wilderness, each destined to illuminate a different path toward the same truth: that we belong to the wild, and the wild belongs to all of us. This year we celebrate both Londolozi and the Kruger National Park turning 100!

In 1926, two remarkable things happened in the South African Lowveld. The Kruger National Park was officially proclaimed on May 31st, becoming South Africa’s first national park – a bold act of reconciliation and conservation that would reshape the nation’s relationship with wilderness. And just months earlier, in the quiet dust of what would become Londolozi, a lantern was lit on a humble farm, its soft glow welcoming the first travelers down a long dirt road.

Lion viewing in the Kruger National Park. Image credit: https://www.lionroarsafaris.co.za/history-of-the-kruger-national-park.html

Tourists viewing elephants in the Kruger National Park in the early days after it was proclaimed a national park

One hundred years later, both flames still burn. And their stories – though distinct in their telling – are inseparably woven into the greater tapestry of African conservation.

A Shared Beginning at the Selati Bridge

The story of tourism in this landscape begins at a bridge. The Selati Bridge at Skukuza, where the railway crossed the Sabie River, became the unlikely birthplace of safari culture in 1923.

Image Credit: https://www.krugershalati.com/bridge-history/

Picture it: late afternoon, the sun setting in hues of orange and gold over the Sabie River. The train comes to a halt. Passengers step off—some gold prospectors chasing dwindling fortunes, others tourists on the South African Railways’ “Round in Nine” tour, a nine-day journey through Mozambique and the Lowveld. They’re welcomed by Colonel James Stevenson-Hamilton himself, the visionary first warden of what would become Kruger, accompanied by an armed ranger.

The air buzzes with excitement. Elephants line the riverbank. Birds flit about in the golden light. Stevenson-Hamilton speaks passionately about the beauty of the area and the urgent need to protect it – hunting and trading of animal skins and horns had devastated wildlife populations, and he was determined to preserve this wilderness for future generations.

As the evening unfolds, something magical happens. Tables, chairs, food, and even a grand piano are brought out from the train. Wood is stacked for a bonfire. The armed ranger offers brave souls the chance to venture into lion territory on short bush walks. Under vast African skies, campfires blaze, stories are shared, melodies drift across the river, and exquisite meals are served in the wild.

Tourists slept on the train itself, as there were no facilities yet. But this inconvenience mattered little compared to what they experienced: the first stirrings of a profound truth that Stevenson-Hamilton would later articulate perfectly.

“The public’s fascination with animals gave me confidence in the potential of our national park scheme,” Stevenson-Hamilton wrote. “The South African public demonstrated a profound appreciation for wildlife without a desire to harm them.”

This was the seed. The recognition that wilderness could heal, inspire, and unite. That people didn’t need to possess nature to love it – they simply needed to witness it, to walk beside it, to be held by it.

The Selati Railway line itself had begun in 1886 with the discovery of gold in the Selati River basin, drawing fortune seekers to the Murchison Range. By 1912, the line officially opened for railway traffic, connecting Komatipoort to what is now the Sabi Sand Game Reserve. But when gold reserves dwindled, the railway found a new purpose: bringing people to witness something far more valuable than gold—the untamed beauty of African wilderness.

By 1927, just one year after the park’s proclamation, the first three tourist cars entered Kruger National Park, each paying a £1 entrance fee. The following year, 180 cars arrived. By 1929, it was 850. A movement had begun. Read more about this fascinating history in the book ‘Tracks of Hope – The Kruger Shalati Story” by emailing here.

Image credit: https://www.citizen.co.za/lowvelder/news-headlines/2016/06/03/gallery-of-ninety-years-of-kruger-park-memories-from-the-heart/

And just to the west, along the unfenced boundary where the Sand River meandered eastward, the seeds of Londolozi were quietly taking root in that same soil.

The Bridge That Whispers Still

Over the decades, Londolozi’s relationship with Kruger National Park has been a remarkable example of how visionary conservation and private–public collaboration can reshape landscapes and livelihoods. In the late twentieth century Londolozi instrumental in campaigning for the removal of the western fence between the Sabi Sand Private Game Reserve and Kruger, restoring natural wildlife movement between these two great ecosystems, a significant conservation milestone after years of artificial barriers that restricted migrations and disrupted ecological balance.

In 1979, Londolozi pioneered the safe relocation of “fully grown” elephants from Kruger into the Sabi Sand, a first of its kind event proving that managed translocations could help restore populations and genetic diversity across reserves. Beyond ecological restoration, Dave Varty helped forge one of the first private-sector partnerships with SANParks through collaborative conservation and tourism ventures, partnerships that later influenced broader conservation tourism models across southern Africa.  Over time, private sector innovation within and around Kruger expanded, including pioneering private concessions like Ngala Safari Lodge, the first private game reserve concession incorporated into Kruger itself, furthering high-end safari tourism in the Park. Most recently, iconic initiatives such as Kruger Shalati — The Train on the Bridge demonstrate ongoing innovation and cooperation between SANParks and private partners in creating unique experiences that celebrate Kruger’s history and stimulate tourism investment. Together, these efforts show how, when government and private sector “hold hands,” they not only create magical experiences but also underwrite resilience and shared stewardship across one of Africa’s greatest conservation landscapes.

For decades, the Selati Bridge and its tracks served their purpose – first carrying prospectors, then tourists, then eventually falling silent. The whispers changed over time: Come along this way and discover the beauty of nature. Later, they whispered: Come and build something iconic, something that will significantly impact many lives.

In 2020, those whispers were finally answered. Kruger Shalati: The Train on the Bridge opened its doors, permanently stationed on the historically-rich Selati Bridge above the Sabie River. A beautifully refurbished train now offers luxury accommodation in the exact spot where tourists first experienced Kruger nearly a century ago.

Londolozi is honoured to have played a small part in bringing this vision to life. Londolozi’s deep connection to this landscape and our commitment to conservation tourism meant we could share the lessons learned over generations – how to create experiences that honour wilderness while transforming lives, how to build in ways that respect heritage while embracing innovation.

The bridge still stands. The river still flows beneath it. And now, once again, people gather there – not around campfires on the ground, but in elegant train carriages suspended above the Sabie, watching the same elephants drink from the same river that captivated those first tourists a hundred years ago.

It is Ubuntu made manifest: I am what I am because of who we all are. The story of this bridge, of this wilderness, has always been one of connection – between past and present, between different expressions of the same commitment, between all of us who have been called to hold the light.

Two Philosophies, One Ecosystem

Today, Londolozi sits in the heart of the Sabi Sand Reserve, which forms part of what is now called the Greater Kruger – a vast, unfenced wilderness where animals move freely across 19,485 square kilometers of the Kruger National Park and into the Associated Private Nature Reserves that border it to the west. Together with parks in Mozambique and Zimbabwe, this forms the Greater Limpopo Transfrontier Park – 35,000 square kilometers where borders dissolve and wildlife roams as it has for millennia.

Londolozi’s Sparta Camp – Four Mud Huts In The Midst Of A Vast Wilderness ~ 1926

Kruger and Londolozi exist as two expressions of the same commitment: to protect, to preserve, to pass forward. But they have approached this sacred calling in different ways, each essential to the whole.

Kruger National Park, state-run and governed by democratic principles, offers accessible wilderness to all. Over a million visitors each year can experience Africa’s wildlife from demarcated roads, in closed vehicles, with gate times and regulations designed to balance human access with animal welfare. It is conservation for the people, by the people—a model of what a nation can achieve when it decides that wild places matter.

Londolozi, meanwhile, has taken a different path. As a private reserve, it has cultivated intimacy. Open vehicles leave the roads to follow tracks in the sand. Ranger and tracker teams practice the ancient art of reading the earth, following leopards into tall grass, sitting in silence as elephants drink from the river at dusk.

What We’ve Learned in a Century

When Kruger was proclaimed in 1926, there were no guidebooks for how to manage a national park. When the first tourists arrived at what would become Londolozi, there was no blueprint for ethical wildlife tourism. Both had to learn through trial, error, and deep listening – to the land, to the animals, to the people who called this place home long before rangers or rest camps existed.

The early years were marked by mistakes and experiments. And perhaps most importantly, both Londolozi and Kruger learned that conservation and community must walk hand in hand.

Holding the Light Into the Next Century

This year, as Londolozi and Kruger National Park both turn 100, we find ourselves at an extraordinary moment. Not an ending, but a deepening.

What began with a single game ranger telling stories around a campfire at Selati Bridge has grown into a global movement. What started as a lantern lit on a Lowveld farm has become a philosophy: that to hold the light means to care, to guide, to protect, to illuminate the path for those who come after.

On May 31st, 1926, the Kruger National Park was born from an act of political will and ecological foresight. In that same year, Londolozi’s journey began with a simple welcome, a light in the darkness, an invitation to come home to the wild.

One hundred years later, we celebrate not just survival, but thriving. Kruger now protects 147 mammal species, 507 bird species, and countless other forms of life. But what we’re really celebrating is something deeper: the unbroken thread of relationship between humans and wilderness. The proof that we can change. That we can stop seeing nature as something to exploit and start experiencing it as something we belong to.

Two Paths, One Purpose

Both Londolozi and Kruger exist within the same unfenced wilderness, where a lion born in Kruger might den her cubs on Londolozi land, where elephants move freely following ancient pathways that recognize no property lines, where the greater ecosystem functions as it always has – as one living, breathing whole.

If the first hundred years have taught us anything, it’s this: when we commit to holding the light – with humility, with patience, with unwavering care – magic happens. Wilderness thrives. People are transformed. And the impossible becomes inevitable.

To one hundred years of protection, connection, and wonder.

And to the next century – may it be even wilder, even more beautiful, even more alive with possibility.