A The elephants surrounded us, moving closer and closer. Hendrick, our expert tracker, whispered: 'I'm just checking whether they're really eating or just pretending to eat.' A voice screamed in my head 'What do you mean pretending to eat? Is that bad?' They were two metres away now, and just as I leaned towards him to ask for clarification, Hendrick raised his arm, pointing his index finger in the air – this was the signal not to move, not to make a sound, not to breathe.

B The last time I had seen these elephants, 15 years earlier, I had narrowly escaped being flattened as they charged towards us, and was saved by the fact that the matriarch, the eldest member and authority on decision making, had been towards the back of the herd. The younger females, seeing us in their path, had turned to check and see what she wanted to do. That split second saved my life, giving us the chance to start the engine, and slam our 4x4 into reverse and out of their way.

They were really wild back then, rarely meeting humans in anything but a confrontational setting. But for years, Hendrick Munembome, and other rangers working alongside Elephant Human Relations Aid (EHRA), have tried to create a positive relationship, not only within the herds of elephants in the region, but also between the animals and the humans who live and work side by side with them – with a knock-on benefit for tourism.

C This time, as it turned out, they really were eating – which meant they were calm and curious rather than nervous and potentially aggressive. 'They're in a good mood,' Hendrick whispered, putting me only slightly more at ease as they moved even closer towards the truck. Elisabeth, one of our group, was taking data and had a pencil between her teeth. Not daring to take it out, she kept it there, biting down hard on it.

This was called the Mama Africa herd of elephants, and 'Deliwe' and her daughter 'Hanna' were so close now that we could see every detail of their faces, and feel their rumbling calls under our skin. Just as it seemed as though Deliwe was about to take Elisabeth's pencil with her trunk, Hendrick clapped his hands in quick bursts and the mother and daughter retreated a little. We let out our breath. It's great to go on adventures – even better to return to tell the tale.

D We were not on safari, we were on patrol with EHRA to collect data: to record the locations of these herds, check their wellbeing, note down any injuries they may have suffered, make sure they were all there and record any new-borns. But this was not just about the wellbeing of the elephants, it was about the wellbeing of the participants – the women who had decided to join me and experience true wilderness, have close encounters with wildlife, face a challenge, support conservation efforts, trek through the desert, meet local women and relax.

I had first had the idea for an all-female expedition seven years before, but had done nothing about it. Then I happened to discuss it with a friend, and suddenly everything fell into place: a group of women, elephants, ten days in Namibia, EHRA. We could track desert elephants in one of my favourite places in the world, help EHRA with its work, and experience the beauty of the desert.

E I could picture it all really clearly, but now I had to make it happen. I contacted EHRA, who thought it was a great plan. But how to find the women? I wrote to all my female friends and asked them to spread the word, and soon I had a number wanting to know more. Only three months after the idea took shape, we were there in Namibia, ten women of different ages and backgrounds.

F When you think of Namibia, you think of desert, heat, baked cracked earth. Instead we were greeted with rain. It hadn't rained properly for seven years, but now the rivers were in flood and the elephants had retreated to higher ground to eat the sweet new shoots. This made tracking them difficult, and we frequently had to climb up the rocks and peer through binoculars. If someone had told me that an elephant could disguise itself as a rock I wouldn't have believed them, but with thousands of these boulders in our view, it was almost impossible to distinguish the herd, despite Hendrick pointing wildly. Once we had spotted them, we then had to try and get closer. Even with a 4x4, thorny bushes and protruding rocks made the going tough. Later, as we headed back to our camp, I spotted a rainbow. In the desert! It was an incredible sight, but of course it means there's rain. We certainly hadn't expected to be cooking our barbecue under umbrellas!

G Even with rain, the spirits of this all-women team were not dampened: in fact it made for a great sense of community. On the last day, as we sat in the safety of our truck, silently watching our animal counterparts seeking shade under a tree, I was struck by the similarity of our two groups, and wondered who was watching who more intently. We were most definitely in their territory, but they didn't seem to mind us being there – which showed that EHRA had succeeded in reducing tension between elephants and people.