The story behind Wild Acacia

In 2023, I did something a little wild in the best possible way: I booked a solo trip to South Africa after twelve years away. None of my friends could join — some couldn’t get the time off work, some couldn’t afford it, and others just weren’t keen on a South Africa adventure. The nerves were real… but the pull toward home was stronger. So off I went, completely alone.

I upgraded my seat with points before boarding, then stepped onto that plane in leggings, a camo hoodie, and my hiking boots — full bush-girl mode — and settled into business class with a glass of champagne before takeoff.

I didn’t even go see my family first. I landed in Johannesburg, hopped straight onto a shuttle, and about seven hours later rolled into Marloth Park — a bushveld town woven deeply into my family’s history. My grandfather’s farm once bordered the Crocodile River on the Malelane side, and my mom grew up bottle-feeding orphaned lion cubs her father found on their property. Coming back to these landscapes felt like stepping straight into a story I’d been born into long before I understood it.

Where Everything Changed

And then it happened: Kruger magic.

I fell hard for the bush.

Devon quickly became my main guide — and honestly, one of the biggest reasons the Kruger wrapped itself around my heart the way it did.

We shared the same deep, almost obsessive love for our country. He spent drive after drive teaching me bird calls, helping me identify species, and explaining all the weird, quirky animal behaviours most people never even notice. There was something familiar about him from the beginning. The way he always had a bird book, binoculars, and a camera within reach reminded me so much of my father, who worked in conservation in South Africa and was never seen without those exact three things in hand.

Before my dad passed, he told me something I will never forget: that he would visit me in the form of an eagle. And I see eagles everywhere. In Canada, it’s the American bald eagle — in South Africa, during those days in the Kruger, we saw almost every iconic eagle the bush has to offer:

• African fish eagle

• Martial eagle

• Brown snake eagle

• Bateleur

• Verreaux’s eagle

• Tawny eagle

• African hawk-eagle

• 
  

Somehow, we saw them all. It felt like he was right there with me, showing up again and again in the sky. Growing up, my father would ditch the rest of us during holidays to go bird watching, and I remember rolling my eyes because I just didn’t get it. Birds felt boring. But there I was, sitting beside Devon, falling completely in love with birds and understanding my dad in a way I never had before. And then there’s the identity piece — something a lot of people won’t understand unless they’ve lived it.

A lot of South Africans see me as a Canadian because of my accent and the fact that I can’t speak Afrikaans, but Devon recognized and celebrated my South African roots instantly. He saw where I came from, understood how the wilderness shaped me, and accepted me exactly as I am.

Cruising those Kruger dirt roads with him felt like this is what I was meant to do with my life. And in those moments — spotting eagles, laughing, learning, listening — I felt my father right there in the car with us.

When your hosts and guides start to feel like friends — when you’re laughing around the fire, riding in the back of a pick-up truck with strangers from all over the world, planning the next day’s sightings, and nobody sees you as “just another guest” — that’s the kind of experience that stays with you. And it’s exactly the kind of atmosphere I want to create with Wild Acacia.

With Kruger Park Hostel, I explored the Panorama Route — and this wasn’t the typical rushed, touristy whirlwind. Their tour is the kind of day that feels like a road trip with friends: winding mountain passes, dramatic cliffs rising out of nowhere, waterfalls tucked between ancient forests, and viewpoints that most visitors never even realize exist.

We even discovered a tiny, hidden trail that led to a swimmable waterfall — and I became the first-ever guest they took to swim beneath it. Cold mountain water, sunlight filtering through the trees, Mayra laughing beside me — it was one of those pure, unscripted moments that only happen when you’re with the right people, at the right time, in the right place.

And then something happened that truly floored me.When I returned to South Africa in 2025 with my mom and daughter, I walked into the hostel and there on the wall — framed and proudly displayed — was a photo of Mayra and me in front of that very waterfall, advertising their tours. I hadn’t known they put it up. Seeing that picture made my heart stop.I felt like I had already been woven into their story. Like I wasn’t just a guest…I had become part of their history. This is exactly why I plan to book my guests onto their Panorama Route tour. Because it isn’t just beautiful — it’s meaningful. It’s human. It’s unforgettable.

With Kruger Park Hostel, I continued exploring the Panorama Route, wandered through viewpoints I’d only ever seen in photos, and soaked in the magic of that whole week. By the end of my first week, I wasn’t just enjoying myself — I felt something shifting. Something clicking into place. Something inside me whispering:“This is where you belong.”

How Kruger Park Hostel Inspired Wild Acacia Collective

Kruger Park Hostel became a huge inspiration for Wild Acacia Collective — not just because of the people, but because of how beautifully they told their story online. I found them through Instagram, like so many of their guests do. I remember seeing one reel of a beautiful woman lounging in a pool with a kudu standing beside her. That clip hooked me instantly. I followed their page, watched more reels, and within days I had blindly booked myself a week with them.

When I arrived and told Mayra that her kudu-in-the-pool video was the reason I booked, she burst out laughing and said:“THAT’S ME!”(It still makes me smile — and now I have my own kudu-in-the-pool videos too.)

They weren’t just running a hostel; they were building a community. The kind of place where solo travellers arrive as strangers and leave as lifelong friends. That feeling shaped everything I want Wild Acacia to become. And I want to be clear: I don’t compete with Mayra and René. They’re my friends. I want to support them and bring more business their way, support each other, and uplift one another like people who genuinely want to see each other succeed — because I believe in what they do, the magic that they create! My dream is to bring my guests to experience Kruger Park Hostel the way I did — to meet the people who inspired me in the first place. By the time my first week ended, I wasn’t ready to leave. Even when I forced myself to continue traveling — visiting family, revisiting childhood places, exploring provinces — a part of me stayed behind around that fire, waking up with the bush at sunrise, laughing with people who felt like home.

The Roadtrip Chaos & The Mountains That Raised Me

After leaving Kruger, I set off on a solo road trip across South Africa. Driving down from Johannesburg to the midlands of KZN, to Durban and up the north coast visiting St Lucia, Hluhluwe and Sodwana Bay.  I visited family and friends all across. Sodwana bay was a non stop adventure of Scuba diving and partying with the locals in the most beautiful way. Waking up barefoot and full of sand on a rooftop terrace overlooking the entire sodwana coast. It was beautiful, chaotic, and humbling. I struggled with booking systems, misread websites, and at one point realized the shuttle I planned to take didn’t even go to the town I needed. Luckily I met people that I could catch a ride with and made my way around.

Long story short: the shuttle didn’t go where I needed it to, so I adjusted my plans. Thats when I met my daughter’s father and suggested a spontaneous mountain adventure — he drives, I’ll pack the snacks. He agreed, and that little detour carried me straight back into the Drakensberg, the mountains that raised me.

After he left, I decided to stay to do some hiking, visiting family friends that I had grown up with. I went on my first solo hike to Sterkspruit Falls in the Monks Cowl Nature Reserve — the central part of the uKhahlamba-Drakensberg Park.

Walking those trails alone hit differently. My dad was the warden of Monks Cowl in the 90s, back when I was five years old. He helped launch the Honorary Ranger program, where community members volunteered to support conservation: removing invasive plants, fighting fires, keeping the Lesotho/South Africa border safe from poachers slipping through mountain passes, even rescuing hikers who got into trouble. They did anti-poaching work for rhino long before it was widely talked about.This place wasn’t just a park to my family — it was a heartbeat. At Sterkspruit Falls, the KZN Wildlife Honorary Rangers placed a bench in my father’s honour. I didn’t know what it would feel like to see it again as an adult — especially alone, especially after everything — but sitting on that bench overlooking the water made the whole mountain feel like it was holding me. He was everywhere in that valley.

I ended up staying at the Monks Cowl Nature Reserve warden’s guest house — literally my childhood backyard. I drank my morning coffee overlooking the garden where my brother and I used to catch snakes and turn our trampoline into a makeshift swimming pool with the sprinkler. Saying goodbye to that place all over again was deeply emotional. But as much as the mountains felt like home…the Kruger still called louder.

The Return — And the Realization

I knew then what it felt like to leave your heart behind in a place that feels like home.

So I did exactly what my heart begged me to do - what I NEEDED to do before returning to Canada: I went back to the Kruger.

This week was serious business. Devon and I fell into “tracker-in-training” mode. I started a bird list, checked off species left and right, and proudly bossed Devon around with the map. One morning he laughed and said: “I don’t normally let my guests decide the game drive route.” One day, during a quiet moment on the road, we talked about the idea of running tours together. At the time, it felt like nothing more than a passing thought — two bush-crazy people imagining a life built around the wilderness. I didn’t realize then that this small idea would become the spark behind everything I’m building now.

The Unexpected Souvenir

When I got home… I discovered I had brought back a very unexpected souvenir from the Drakensberg: my little Acacia Wild. After ten years of trying to conceive, countless appointments and surgeries, it finally happened when I least expected it. Overnight, everything changed. Travel plans froze. Money was tight. Friends drifted. My world shrank down to me, my baby, and the ache of missing the bush. Most days, I kept WildEarth playing just to feel close to South Africa again. I soaked up everything — bird species, tracks, behaviour — anything that made the wilderness feel alive.

Where Wild Acacia Began

When Acacia was only a few months old, the first sparks of Wild Acacia began forming. I didn’t know what it would become — only that I wasn’t done with the Kruger, I took my daughter home with me and we spent 10 days in the Kruger alongside my mother. Introducing her to the wild that inspired her name,

Now, as I write this, my daughter is one year old. I’m building this dream inbetween meals and naptimes, often staying up way too late after her bedtime — designing the website, learning, editing, networking, piecing this business together little by little. Networking with Devon who is still in the Kruger. I’m working with the same guide who changed everything for me on that first trip.

Wild Acacia is becoming what I wished existed when I booked that solo adventure:

A space where adventure feels welcoming.Where wildlife feels personal.Where strangers become friends.And where the bush finally feels like home again — even from halfway across the world.

Somehow, after years of detours, heartbreak, and starting over…it finally feels like everything is coming together.

Because once you’ve left your heart in a place that feels like home… you spend the rest of your life trying to find your way back.

This is where the story starts. 🌿✨