This is the home ground of Dereck and Beverly Joubert, the National Geographic filmmakers and conservationists who once lived on the island themselves. They filmed its lion and buffalo drama here for the documentary Relentless Enemies. Their conservation company now holds Duba in a joint venture with the local community, so lease payments and employment flow back from tourism on the land. Dereck Joubert led the design of the current camp too, rebuilt from the earlier Duba Plains Camp that first established the area’s reputation for lion and buffalo interaction.
The design reaches back to a 1920s safari aesthetic rather than contemporary luxury. Canvas suites stand on raised timber decks built from recycled railway sleepers, and inside are wooden floors, leather chairs, Persian rugs and brass fittings. Each holds a lounge, a bed under mosquito netting, and a bathroom with indoor and outdoor showers and a freestanding bath, opening onto a private veranda with a plunge pool that faces the floodplains. The main thatched areas gather a library, a wine cellar and an interactive kitchen where guests can watch the team at work.
The design reaches back to a 1920s safari aesthetic rather than contemporary luxury
Meals move with the light and the setting. Lunch is laid al fresco under the ebony trees, dinner is a tasting menu with wine pairings, and picnics are packed for longer drives so a sighting need never be cut short. Duba Plains is a Relais & Châteaux member, and the kitchen holds to that standard from bush breakfasts to the longest multi-course evenings, wherever the day happens to end. Wildlife, meanwhile, reaches the camp without anyone needing to leave it. Elephant, buffalo and hippo move across the floodplains directly in front of the raised decks, and lion calls and hippo grunts carry over the water at night.
Leopard hold the forested islands within the concession, hyena dens are often active, and tsessebe, warthog and blue wildebeest cross the open grassland beyond camp. The birding runs deep enough that Duba Plains keeps a “111 Club” for guests who identify 111 or more species during a single stay. It is a fitting flourish for a place where so much of the drama arrives on its own terms, and where the pleasure lies as much in what wanders past the deck as in what the guides go looking for.