Into the Wild
One bag, endless stories in South Africa
We traded city sounds for the rustle of tall grass and the distant call of elephants. This journey into the South African wilderness reminded us why we created Highlands: to slow down, to travel with intention, and to choose fewer, better things that are made to last. For ten days, the Arran Backpack was the one thing we carried everywhere, and it carried us.
From the moment we touched down in Johannesburg, our days unfolded in a rhythm dictated by nature. No alarms, no screens. Just birdsong at sunrise, long drives through golden savannahs, and evenings by the fire, lost in good conversation.
We moved with the wild, in silence and surrender. That’s how we were allowed a glimpse into its hidden world. We heard monkeys cry out, warning of a nearby cheetah. Moments later, we witnessed something fierce and unforgettable: a zebra taken down swiftly, only for the cheetah to be chased off by relentless jackals. It was raw and real, like a National Geographic moment unfolding in real time. Humbling. Emotional. Leaving us quiet and deeply grateful.
One entire day, we searched for the elusive leopard. He remained hidden, as if the timing wasn’t right. Then, as a new day began and the first light touched the grass, he appeared - lush, poised, serene, as though he had simply decided the moment had come. We were in awe, holding our breath, as he lay draped across the branches: untouchable, entirely in his own world.
A few days later, the wild held its breath again, but something else moved this time. Larger. Slower. Certain. A lion, unbothered and magnificent, made his way past us as though we weren’t even there.
I never thought my knees would shake from reverence, but they did. In that moment, I felt small in the best possible way.
We had risen in the dark for five mornings straight. Dust in our eyes, the cold pressing against our skin, bones rattling from long drives across empty land. Still, nothing prepares you for the weight of silence in the presence of something wild.
I realised that the most powerful moments in travel don’t come from seeking, but from being fully present, quiet enough to notice when something chooses to appear. About listening. Letting go of control, until the world reveals itself on its own terms. And when it finally does, it asks for nothing more than your stillness.
Elephants moved like ancient memories across the plains. Giraffes passed us in silence, their shadows long in the morning light. Zebras gathered around us, calm and composed, while wildebeests, warthogs, and jackals drifted in and out of our view. For ten days, they were our neighbours.
There were no notifications, no clocks, no noise. Just the people we love, and nature in its most honest, breathtaking form.
The Arran was with us, always. It carried what we needed: water, layers, notes, and treasures from the road. Through dust, heat, and unexpected rain, it moved with us like a quiet companion. And that’s what this trip reminded us of: that the essence of travel isn’t in ticking off sights, but in becoming part of a slower rhythm.
A rhythm where happiness lives in watching, listening, and just being.
Crafted for travels that leave an impression.
Ready to carry your own story?