I camped with the unarmed female rangers saving South Africa's rhinos

This is our first weapon," Felicia Letang Mogakane says, holding up a mobile phone. She then picks up a two-way radio. "And this is our second weapon."

What she doesn't hold up - because she doesn't have one - is an actual weapon. Unarmed but unafraid, Felicia is a member of the Black Mambas, the all-female anti-poaching group here in the region around South Africa's Kruger National Park. With just phones, radios and torches, their aim is to protect the wildlife, particularly the rhino, from dangerous hunters willing to kill.

"We're bad-ass women," Felicia laughs.

There are several ways tourists can visit the Black Mambas headquarters and I've come with Intrepid Travel, the only tour company that also stays the night with the women.

But before we get to that fireside conversation, Felicia and her colleague Nkateko Letti Mzimba are showing us around the headquarters and surrounding bushland to explain what they're up against.

There are 36 members of the Black Mambas and they patrol day and night. One of the main things they're looking for are snares tied around plants to catch animals. Nkateko shows us some of the long baneful wire they've found in the bush, explaining how a single snare can kill dozens of animals because poachers often just leave them after capturing their prey.

Along with these traps, the women are also looking for signs of incursions like holes in fences they can pass along to authorities. They sometimes even set up roadblocks where they're allowed to search cars for any signs of poaching.

The rhinos are the priority here in Greater Kruger, where the species is under constant threat from poaching gangs that sell their horns for traditional medicine in Asia. But any animal could be a victim, with some locals breaking through the fences to get "bushmeat" to eat or sell in markets.

"They know that it's wrong, but greediness makes them come inside the reserve and kill the voiceless animals," Felicia says.

Along a dirt road, we drive from the headquarters down into a dry river bed where a series of tents have already been pitched. Our home for the night. There will be howls from animals while we sleep and I'm warned not to wander far if I wake up and need to pee. I'm not nearly as brave as the Black Mambas, so I decide I might just hold on.

As the sun sets and the campsite becomes lit instead by the flickering orange of our fire, we sit down to talk more with Nkateko and Felicia.

There's something elemental about a fire, kindling a deeper organic flow of conversation as you stare into the light. Complicated issues can be given some context - and the battle to save the rhino certainly isn't simple.

The women explain why, for members of the Black Mambas, it can actually be safer to be unarmed and for everyone to know that.

"We are staying in the same communities as the poachers. Our kids are going to the same school as the kids of the poachers," Felicia explains. "So we don't want to create conflict for our families, we don't want revenge. That's why our aim is not to kill them."

A big part of the Black Mambas' activities takes place in the local communities. They often give food to people to reduce the need for bushmeat. They run programs with children to instil a love of the local wildlife and inspire them to be a ranger rather than a poacher (in fact, some of the young Black Mambas members we meet started from this "Bush Babies" program). And they even take older women out on safari, a program called "Bush Grannies", to show them the animals so they can perhaps influence family members.

"Our mission is not to fight this war with a gun - we have to fight with education," Nkateko explains. "Our aim is to collect data and be the eyes and ears of the reserve." Perhaps its heart and soul, too, I think to myself as I look up at the stars.

In the morning, the purple dawn glows as I get out of the tent (having survived, despite breaking my rule not to get up and pee).

The shower is chilly, but Nkateko and Felicia are helping the Intrepid guides cook a hot breakfast of bacon and eggs (scrambled, of course ... this is an anti-poaching unit, after all).

The Black Mambas rely on donations to continue their work and one of their big supporters is Intrepid Travel. Through its non-profit Intrepid Foundation, the Australian tour company has recently donated money to improve communications equipment and make the headquarters more secure.

But perhaps, most importantly, it also brings tour groups here to meet the women, a truly inspiring experience.

It's a wonderful example of how tourism can be personally rewarding and help make the world a better place. Just by visiting, we are contributing to a program that has reduced poaching incidents by 60 per cent. By listening to their stories and sharing them, we are playing a broader role in the conservation of these species. And even beyond the work to save the animals, we are supporting a project that's changing lives and communities.

"I am having so much pride wearing this uniform," Nkateko beams, as she talks about being a Black Mamba.

"We also take care of our families. We are the breadwinners now."

The writer was a guest of Intrepid Travel and South African Tourism