The Long Way There: What a Kenya Safari Taught This Aspiring Leader About Slowing Down to See Clearly
Some trips start the moment you arrive.
Others start long before. Maybe somewhere over the Atlantic, halfway between exhaustion and anticipation, when the seat barely reclines and you realize there’s no shortcut to where you’re going.
My wife Lynn and I took a “Trip of a Lifetime” Kenya safari last fall along with our daughter Drew. This trip was very much the second type of trip.
Austin to Philadelphia. Philadelphia to London. London to Nairobi. The final brutal leg was ten hours, back row, minimal recline. It felt like a test of resolve. But maybe that was the point. Before the beauty, before the stillness, before the lessons, there was the long way there.
We arrived in Nairobi late Saturday night, tired but wired. We checked into a beautiful Kempenski hotel and enjoyed two rooms for one night with a price tag that reminded me we were officially a long way from the expenses of living in the West. The next morning, we met our group in the lobby and headed to a small local airport. From there, everything changed.
A seven-passenger bush plane lifted us into the air and carried us forty minutes north to Ol Pejeta Conservancy: a 90,000-acre national park that would be home for the week. No jet bridges. No terminals. Just a dirt runway and a sense that we had crossed into a different rhythm of life.
When we landed, safari Land Cruisers were waiting. By noon, we arrived at the Ol Pejeta Safari Cottages, tucked into the bush, where we’d settle in, learn the lay of the land, and begin to unlearn a few things too.
Orientation Before Observation
Our first afternoon wasn’t about animals. It was about orientation.
We met the staff. We learned the routines. We listened. That alone felt instructive. In leadership – and in life, I find that I often want to jump straight to action, straight to results. But in unfamiliar territory, wisdom starts with understanding the environment before trying to move within it.
After lunch came yoga (this was a safari-and-yoga trip for a non-yoga person!!). I’ll admit it had probably been ten years since my last yoga session, and I approached it with equal parts curiosity and skepticism. But as the sun lowered and the sounds of the bush surrounded us, I was reminded that flexibility – physical or otherwise – isn’t always about performance. It’s about readiness.
Later that afternoon, we climbed into the Land Cruisers for our first drive through the bush.
Amazing animals. Everywhere. Giraffes moving with quiet confidence. Zebras clustered together. Antelope alert but calm. It was overwhelming in the best possible way, and that afternoon was just the beginning.
That evening, Lynn and I returned to our private cottage at the edge of the property. Cottage #1. A veranda with screen netting. A forest setting that opened into the bush beyond. No television. No notifications. Just space to breathe and listen.
Leadership Lesson #1 arrived quietly that night: Sometimes clarity requires distance – from noise, from pace, from the illusion of control.
The Discipline of Early Mornings
Safari days begin early for a reason.
The next morning, we rose before sunrise for a 6:30 a.m. bush journey. The animals are most active in the early morning and late afternoon, and the schedule honors that reality. No one complains. No one negotiates the timing. You align with the rhythms that already exist.
That morning’s drive lasted nearly three hours. At one point, the drivers pulled into an open area and set up breakfast right there in the bush. Tables. Hot coffee. Fresh food. All while the land stretched endlessly around us.
It struck me how intentional it all was. Nothing hurried. Nothing wasted.
Leadership lesson #2: Great results often come from aligning with natural rhythms rather than forcing artificial ones.
Back at the cottages later that morning, Lynn rested. Drew joined the group for yoga – one of two sessions offered each day. I sat on our veranda, read my bible, gazed at the bush and journaled. Again, the structure mattered. Movement. Stillness. Observation. Rest. Then observation again.
Two drives a day. Two yoga sessions. A cadence designed not for efficiency, but for attentiveness.
Seeing What You’d Otherwise Miss
On that morning drive, we saw lions.
Not from a distance. Not in passing. We stopped. We watched. We waited.
There’s something humbling about watching a lion at rest. No hurry. No anxiety. Complete awareness without wasted motion. Power without noise.
In our world, leadership often gets confused with activity – emails sent, meetings scheduled, decisions announced. But the lion doesn’t need to prove anything. It understands when to move and when not to.
Leadership lesson #3: Presence is often more powerful than performance.
Another detail stayed with me as the week unfolded: the people. Our drivers, guides, and staff -all African men with wonderfully familiar Christian names. Emmanuel. James. Michael. Sam.
Each carried themselves with dignity, warmth, and quiet competence. No pretense. No rush. Deep pride in their work and deep care for the land they stewarded.
They reminded me that leadership doesn’t always announce itself. Often, it shows up as faithfulness. Do your job well, care for people, honor something larger than yourself.
The Long Way Back (and Forward)
That first full day on safari set the tone for everything that followed. It slowed us down. It recalibrated our senses. It reminded me that some of the most important lessons don’t arrive in bullet points or frameworks. They arrive through experience.
The long flights. The early mornings. The silence. The waiting. None of it was accidental.
Fellow leader: I’m as guilty as you are. As leaders, parents, spouses, and humans, we’re often tempted to look for shortcuts. Faster answers. Cleaner paths. Quicker wins. But Kenya reminded me that some destinations are meant to be earned slowly. Perhaps most important of all in the life of a leader: the journey itself does some of the most important work on us.
Sometimes, you have to take the long way there to finally see clearly.
In the next blog, I’ll share what observing animals in the wild taught me about power, restraint, and responsibility, and why those lessons matter deeply for leaders today.
