The day had started ordinarily enough before the chaos set in.

I was travelling south away from Durban with a few other travel professionals from around the world, along South Africa's famed Wild Coast. Our plan was to inspect a new lodge called Gwe Gwe nearing completion. To reach Gwe Gwe you can take a standard light aircraft flight in, or a long and roundabout vehicle way in, but we were doing the interesting way. We were heading in via a a powerful speedboat, along the coast itself. We set off through the surf of Port Edward beach (a taste of things to come) and zoomed along the coastline, stopping for brief history lessons of the region as we went. Further along, some humpback whales breached off our port bow, and we spent time following them as they played in the ocean.

And then it got a little weird. Approaching the lodge, rather than do a Normandy-style beach landing directly in front, which is the more obvious (and usual) route, we went to look at a series of cascading waterfalls a bit further up the coastline. We raced the waves into a small cove and looked for a landing spot to disembark. The problem was, there was nowhere to land. The tide was too high. The logical decision, the decision that all professional operators would make, was to turn around and land on the beach directly in front of the lodge.

And so, the decision was made. We would leave the bags in the boat, jump into the ocean and swim to shore, hauling ourselves out on the rocks before climbing the waterfall out.

This suggestion makes more sense when you realise who it came from.

Colin Bell, a legend in the African travel industry, was the one suggesting it. For context, he co-founded Wilderness Safaris in the early 1980s, one of the pioneers of modern conservation-focused safari companies. When he divested from that in 2005 he co-founded Great Plains Conservation (another industry leader) before then later founding Natural Selection with other like-minded individuals. Natural Selection is known for having character, and for approaching things with a sense of humour and a bit of imagination. This lodge we are visiting, the one nearing completion, is Colin’s baby. It has been his passion project for literally decades, and he knows this area better than anyone. So, if he says jump in, I trust that he knows where the path out is.

And so, despite the obvious horror of some of my travel companions, we all leave our belongings in the boat and jump into the ocean. Timing the swell, we then clamber up the rocks and out of the ocean.

It was as I stood on the rocky outcrop, soaked to the bone, listening to the squeals of my travel companions, that I remembered the feeling.

I was having fun.

I can see from the large smiles on everyone’s faces, that despite the trepidation my companions had previously, that they were having fun. They are having the time of their lives. All of my travel companions, from the youthful 29-year-old to the up-for-anything-60-something, have all jumped in and swum to shore. They are all beaming, with pride and adrenaline and excitement and disbelief. We help each other climb onto the rocks, we compare our scratches and take in the surroundings. It is a stunning part of the world, the sun beaming down on the waterfall and the waves crashing just below us.

I get that this experience isn’t for everyone. By all means, take the beach landing or the short flight or any other method you are comfortable with. But please, remember to have fun doing it. After all, isn’t travel meant to be fun?

It isn’t just learning about the area, the culture, or the animals, that counts. Sometimes it is learning about what makes us tick that matters. A light aircraft flight into a remote bush airstrip should be fun, not just a logistical link in a long chain. A day out in Cape Town should be fun, not just something to be done to tick the ‘highlights’ off a list. As Africa has become far more professional and seamless over the years, there is the risk of losing the adventurous spirit of the early days of safari. We assure our travellers that they will be taken care of from the minute they arrive to the minute they leave, and it is true. The real danger for us all now comes from the lack of adventure this can sometimes create. Like a piece of wood, the smoother that it becomes then the less you can feel the character of it.

I was reminded of this concept a month later when I was back in South Africa travelling with my wife and 6-year-old son. My son was excited to go on his first trip to the continent, and I was hoping to introduce a love of the natural world to him. I want him to have endless curiosity, an appreciation of culture and a generosity of spirit. After driving ourselves through much of the country for almost a month, he had seen countless animals and tried food from all over the continent. He had met people from all walks of life and chatted equally earnestly with guides, trackers, lodge managers, gardeners and supermarket workers. My hopes had come true. But, whilst I had planned some activities in each area to best maximise the regions we visited, I also had to learn to sometimes let the plans go. As a kid, he was prewired to look for fun.

All I had to do was follow him. We fossicked for shells in Jeffreys Bay and kicked the incoming tides. We went for a hike along the Robberg Peninsula to smell the seals and then all tried to escape a maze together, a memory he still brings up weekly. We played chess against each other in a lodge library, right next to the open fire. We had chocolate milk for breakfast (more than once), too many marshmallows and banged our hands off in drumming lessons. For me, someone who plans things for a living, it was a timely reminder that the focus should always be the enjoyment of the trip and that plans are just things to help you get to the fun parts.

His focus on fun rubbed off on everyone around us. Starting off quietly in the back seat of a vehicle on his first game drive, by the end he was sitting in the front seat next to the guide. He even rode in the tracker's seat and helped to drive the safari vehicle back to the lodge. They dusted off a bow and arrow from storage and one morning we all had turns trying to hit the target, in between sips of coffee and biscuits. It was one of my favourite mornings, even better than the previous morning when we saw lions. Our tracker TT had never done it, and neither had my wife. They both had a ball, laughing at errant arrows and celebrating good shots. These activities are fun, and I honestly think that although they can be seen to be cheesy they should be in more adult-based itineraries. By all means, tell me about the local language over a table whilst I make a friendship bracelet or colour in an animal picture. Sometimes, like looking enviously at the children’s menu at a restaurant, all you really want is a cheeseburger instead of having the adult demi-glazed beef reduction.

Back at Gwe Gwe, the adventure wasn’t over. We continued to climb up to the next level of the waterfall, where we then jumped into a pool formed by water flowing for millennia. Then further up we go, the path to the top found (and then adjusted quietly) as Colin’s memory is tested to the limits. At the top of the waterfall and finally done with the climbing we then walk, damp and barefoot, across the grasslands and down along the coast. All in all, it takes about two hours from the first dip until we emerge at the headland of a beach. We can see figures clad in blue gathered at the other end. We hear them singing, their welcome song rolling across the sand far before we see their faces clearly. It is the welcome to Gwe Gwe that we not only received but that I dare say we earned. We are wet, scratched, tired and very happy. Just like children, playing in the backyard. And, just like children, we had had a fun day.

The past few years for me, perhaps even the last decade, have been busy. I have been helping to build a well-respected travel company from scratch,  raise a child, and pay a mortgage, and so on. I still love travelling the world. Compared to my nomadic early backpacking decade where I wasn’t busy, I now frequently travel alone for work and for pleasure with my family. I travel professionally to learn new things to then help our travellers experience their dream trips. I travel to film in new locations and write stories from around the world. I also travel to learn new things about myself and expand my horizons. And yet it was in Africa, whilst still doing all that adult stuff, that I also relearned what my son already knows.

I relearned how to have fun.