After nearly four decades of safari-ing across Africa, I’ve learned that where you stay isn’t just a matter of thread count or views—it’s a matter of values.
Lately, I’ve been chatting fireside and Zoom-side with some of the most inspiring minds in conservation travel—Sophie and Calum McFarlane, owners of Lewa House, Tippa and Tarquin Wood of Wild Hill, and the legendary Clive Stockil of Chilo Gorge—as part of my upcoming video podcast series, Safari ChangeMakers.
And let’s just say, these aren’t your average lodge owners—they’re community-lifting, habitat-restoring, rhino-defending game changers. In this article, I dig into how regenerative travel is flipping the script—and why your lodge choice might be the biggest conservation decision you didn’t know you were making. You’ll hear all these conversations live when we launch our podcast later this year on Safari ChangeMakers—stay tuned.
Here’s a number that should stop you mid-scroll: Tourism employs over 300 million people globally. That’s nearly one in ten jobs on this planet. And in Africa, where safari tourism is a $12 billion industry, those jobs concentrate in the exact places where wildlife hangs by a thread—and where your accommodation choice can determine whether endangered species survive or vanish.
I’ve spent nearly four decades in the safari world, and I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve heard, “The lodge doesn’t really matter, does it? It’s just a place to sleep.”I get it. It sounds practical. But here’s the truth: it matters more than almost anything else on your safari. Because where you stay doesn’t just shape your experience—it shapes the future of the land, the wildlife, and the communities who call it home.
Your safari lodge isn’t just a place to sleep—it’s the most powerful conservation tool you’ll wield on your entire trip.
The right lodge can fund anti-poaching patrols, ease human-wildlife conflict, empower women, and restore ecosystems. The wrong one? It might look beautiful on Instagram while funneling your dollars far away from the people and wildlife who need them most.
Here’s the shift I want you to see: when you book a safari, you’re not just a guest. You’re a stakeholder. And your “investment” can either accelerate the loss of biodiversity or actively help reverse it.
Why “Sustainable Travel” Was Never Enough
Let’s be honest—sustainable travel has always been about doing less harm. A low bar, if we’re serious about saving ecosystems and uplifting communities. The future isn’t about less impact. It’s about better impact. It’s about regenerative travel—leaving a place measurably better because you showed up.
The good news? This isn’t a hypothetical. It’s already happening. Quietly, steadily, the most inspiring safari lodges across Africa are leading a revolution—rewilding degraded land, creating jobs with dignity, and restoring balance between people and wildlife.
But here’s the catch: most travelers don’t know how to spot these lodges. Or that their choice even matters.
The Truth About Africa’s Bucket List Destinations
I’ve visited Africa’s most iconic landscapes—the Masai Mara, Serengeti, Ngorongoro Crater, and Chobe. These are extraordinary places, no question. But they’re also showing the wear and tear of mass tourism.
A 2018 study showed tourism traffic in the Mara is literally killing cheetah cubs. Serengeti’s still pushing for higher visitor numbers despite visible overcrowding. And during Chobe’s peak season, elephants and safari vehicles compete for riverbank space.
The hardest part? Most travelers don’t hear this side of the story. Not because people are hiding it—but because the industry is often too busy selling “the dream” to talk about its limits. Meanwhile, vast regions of Africa—just as rich in wildlife, just as spectacular—are quietly overlooked and underfunded.
That’s the real missed opportunity.
When the Bed Comes with a Boardroom
Now, here’s a trend we should all be watching closely: the rise of the corporate safari lodge.
Marriott. Hilton. International chains are entering the safari space, and they’re bringing slick sustainability messaging with them—solar panels, recycled wood, and curated local décor. But what about supply chains? Local ownership? Long-term reinvestment?
It’s the difference between locally sourced wildflower honey served at breakfast—bought from beekeepers whose families have worked the land for generations—versus those little plastic packets shipped in from industrial operations thousands of miles away. Or handwoven Shona sculptures and locally crafted furniture that put money directly into artisans’ pockets, versus mass-produced “African-inspired” décor ordered from corporate catalogs and assembled in distant factories. The corporate lodges check the sustainability boxes on paper. But when profits flow back to international shareholders and supply chains stretch across continents, how much of that eco-friendly marketing actually serves the communities hosting these safari experiences?
The reality is this: these are corporations with shareholders, not stewards of conservation. Their priority is profit, and while some may genuinely care, their accountability lies far from the ecosystems they occupy.
Compare that to locally rooted lodges, where every decision is shaped by the land, the people, and the long-term health of the region. That’s the future I want to bet on.
Three Lodges That Prove It Can Be Done Differently
Plenty of safari professionals—myself included—are working every day to help travelers connect with places that actually walk the talk. Here are three that inspire me deeply:
Lewa House: A Conservation Engine with Guest Rooms Attached
Tucked within the 62,000-acre Lewa Wildlife Conservancy, Lewa House doesn’t just sit next to conservation—it’s woven into one of Kenya’s most successful, longest-running conservation stories. This isn’t a “lodge with a cause.” This is a conservation model with rooms.
Owners Sophie and Calum McFarlane, who live on the property with their children, aren’t absentee hosts—they’re hands-on stewards. You’ll likely share meals with them, join them on bushwalks, and hear firsthand how decisions around land, livestock, and wildlife are made. Their warmth makes it feel like you’re staying with old friends—if your friends happened to be at the center of rhino protection in East Africa.
Your stay directly funds:
- Anti-poaching patrols (including the incredible bloodhound tracker team you can visit)
- Endangered species protection—Lewa is home to over 10% of Kenya’s black rhino and 14% of its white rhino populations
- Human-wildlife conflict mitigation through predator-proof bomas and a groundbreaking community compensation fund
- Ngare Ndare Forest protection, keeping water and corridors flowing between Lewa and Mount Kenya
- Local community programs, from girl’s scholarships to rural health clinics, co-designed with Samburu and Maasai partners
Guests receive transparent updates on where their money goes—and leave with a deep understanding of how conservation actually functions on the ground.
Impact: A night at Lewa House supports an entire system—one that’s protecting endangered species, lifting up communities, and setting the gold standard for long-term sustainability in Kenya.
Here, conservation isn’t a side project—it’s the main reason the lodge exists.
Wild Hill: Restoring Land, Rebuilding Trust
Perched high in the Enonkishu Conservancy north of the Masai Mara, Wild Hill is something rare: a luxury wilderness experience rooted in ecological healing and community transformation.
Co-founders Tippa and Tarquin Wood didn’t just build a lodge—they restored degraded farmland into a functioning wild habitat. When you arrive, it’s hard to believe this was once barren and overgrazed. Today, elephants roam the hills, giraffes browse from acacias, and birdsong replaces cattle bells.
But it’s not just the land that’s been transformed—it’s relationships. The local Maasai community, once in direct competition with wildlife, is now deeply embedded in the lodge’s operations and conservation mission. You’ll meet them in the Wild Shamba (organic garden), in the tree nurseries, as cultural guides, cooks, hosts, and storytellers.
Guests are invited to:
- Harvest vegetables for dinner from the garden
- Plant trees that are part of reforestation corridors
- Take walks guided by Maasai leaders who helped regenerate the land they once grazed
You’ll might spend time with Tippa or Tarquin themselves—whether it’s over tea on the deck or an early morning walk. Their stories, rooted in respect for the land and love for community, add a richness to your stay that’s impossible to stage.
Environmental footprint? 100% solar-powered, filtered rainwater, and not a single plastic bottle in sight.
Impact: This is what regenerative tourism looks like when it’s working: healthier ecosystems, empowered communities, and deeply meaningful guest engagement with both.
This is regeneration with a soul.
Chilo Gorge: Where Conservation Has Deep Roots
Located on the edge of Zimbabwe’s Gonarezhou National Park, Chilo Gorge Lodge was built not to be a safari lodge—but to be a bridge between wilderness and community. And its founder, Clive Stockil, is widely recognized as the godfather of community-led conservation in southern Africa.
Stockil, a Prince William Conservation Award winner, has spent a lifetime proving that rural communities don’t have to choose between development and wildlife—they can have both, if given agency and respect. His model flipped the traditional safari hierarchy on its head: here, the community isn’t an afterthought—it’s the owner of the story.
When you stay at Chilo Gorge:
- You may be guided by one of Stockil’s protégés, or even share sundowners with Clive himself, as our clients did on their last stay
- You’ll hear how the Mahenye community helped co-create Gonarezhou’s long-term protection plan
- You can visit Mahenye village, where tourism has revitalized local culture—including songs, language, and ceremonies once at risk of vanishing
- Your stay helps fund clinics, schools, and community-run anti-poaching units that patrol the park
The entire model rests on trust and reciprocity. Communities gain tangible benefits from wildlife protection, which in turn ensures Gonarezhou remains wild, intact, and extraordinary.
Impact: Without this model, it’s no exaggeration to say Gonarezhou might have been lost to bushmeat hunting and poaching. Instead, it’s one of the most exciting frontiers of conservation success in Africa today—and you’re invited to be part of the next chapter.
What Kind of Mark Will You Leave?
You’re going on safari. You’ll fly to Africa. You’ll stay somewhere. The only real question is—what kind of legacy do you want to leave?
You don’t need to be an expert. You just need to ask better questions. You need to look beyond the infinity pool and into the impact.
Lodges like Lewa House, Wild Hill, and Chilo Gorge aren’t just places to sleep. They’re places to show up and make a difference.
And that’s the kind of travel that stays with you long after you’ve flown home.