I just got back from two weeks in Southern Africa, seeing some of the most incredible wildlife on Earth. My wife and I first visited Africa in 2013, thinking it would be a once-in-a-lifetime bucket list trip.
This was our fourth safari.
By my rough count, we've now spent about 30 days with 10-12 different guides across seven African countries. After that much time bouncing around the bush in a Land Cruiser, you start to notice that every guide has a completely different style.
We had two outstanding, but very different, guides on this trip. Both knew the bush exceptionally well, but they approached the job in completely different ways. The contrast between the two gave me an unexpected realization.
KG was energetic, charismatic, and knew Botswana like the back of his hand. He covered ground quickly, constantly scanning the horizon while listening to reports over the radio from other guides.
Then there was Joe. Joe drove at half the speed. I thought to myself that the upper gears in his truck must be pristine, because we never got out of second gear. After the first afternoon, I was not impressed - I wanted more and faster - more speed, more miles covered, more action. He became "Slow Joe" in my mind.
By the end of the three days with Joe, I had completely changed my mind. He'd study tracks in the sand, a freshly broken branch or because something in the bush didn't sound quite right. He personally found five of the seven lions we saw on the trip. Not because he was lucky, but because he noticed things that most other guides drove past or over. He wasn't slow - he was paying attention.
It made me think how often, in business and life, we confuse activity with progress. Covering more ground feels productive. Driving faster feels productive. Sometimes it even is. But not if you're driving over the very clues you're looking for.
My natural tendency is more KG than Joe (as my history of speeding tickets would confirm). I like moving; I like momentum. Sitting through the 16hr flight from Johannesburg to Atlanta was torture.
But Joe reminded me that experience isn't always about knowing where to look. Sometimes it's about noticing what others overlook because they're moving too quickly. It requires slowing down enough to actually see.
That's the lesson I'll be trying to bring back with me.
