There’s walking safaris…and there’s walking safaris!
Once upon a time in the Kafue….
No socks was not a very good idea…is it ever?
My feet have seen better days, we have been walking every day an average of about 8km in the morning and just under, usually, in the evening. So, no wonder, my sock-less feet inside old vellies (bush shoes) and much walking about the bush veld are sporting a few blisters and one can barely make out skin from caked layers of dust, sout and what ever else happened to fall into my boot, get squished, and mixed into the ‘paste’ that is the micro habitat that develops in a guides shoes after many hours on trail. Breath.
You might think I am describing a peril, some ordeal or bad memory. No my dear, the above conditions are symbolic of something beautiful. Symptoms of an experience – a wild and precious one. A walking safari in a far away wilderness…
This morning, I stared a lion in the face.
I heard him approaching from a far distance throughout the night. I am sleeping in one of those ‘tent-in-seconds’ items that, realising a little late, cannot fit a big fella like myself – being 6’3”. In order to sleep, proper, I must unzip the door to the tent and let my feet and some leg hang out in the open. I’m 19 years old, I am brave, I’m invincible, and this is a good idea, you see.
In the final minutes before dawn, an uncomfortable feeling rose me from my slumber and I crunched into a sitting position whilst simultaneously retracting my legs into the tent. As I did so, a massive Kafue lion, the same one that once roared in the distance, summited the river bank, about a meter past where my feet had just been. We lock eyes.
I am no longer brave, nor invincible.
The lion, getting as much of a fright as I had, bounded past me toward Gilbert, my trusted ZAWA scout who accompanied us on walks ‘for protection’. We won’t talk about the rusted old AK-47 he wielded that would fall apart in front of guests. Being intent on escape, the lion hardly noticed Gilbert who was whisking his nshema (maize meal staple of Africa) into a stiff cake ready for breakfast. Gilbert, busy with nshema-making, which is no small thing, didn’t notice the 250kg beast running only a few metres behind – at all!
I screamed (roared), in my best chi’Nyanja, “Gilbert watch out, there’s a lion”. Turning to face me, meant he turned away from the trajectory of the lion. Once he realised my gestures were urging him to look behind him, seconds had past. Spinning on his haunches, he did a quick 360 pirouette whilst chambering (to my horror) the rusty old AK. But, the lion was gone, thank heaven, disappearing into the lion-coloured elephant grass that covered the flei we slept aside for the night. I was still to learn that when in a predicament in the bush, the tone you choose and level of calmness applied will often determine how people respond. Even if its a proper bad situation, speak as if talking about weekend plans.
Gilbert, leaving a round in the chamber, continued with his nshema. I, glad that guests were not awoken by automatic gunfire and agonised lion roars erupting from right within camp, laced up the previously mentioned excuse for shoes and we prepared to begin another day of walks in the surrounding area. Tracking the same lion, I think, would be a good start to the day.
The above reads, slightly light heartedly. It felt slightly light hearted to Gilbert and I. You see, we had been conducting walks in this area for months already. Not once had we come across tracks of another human, nor a road or sign of another lodge. We encountered elephant, hippo and buffalo on almost every walk. We had been lucky enough to track and find leopard and lion on a handful of occasions. The wilderness here was, well, wild. Proper wild, and there’s was no need to make a big deal of the morning – nor the lion. These things just happened out here and It was wonderful!
In this particular place we were mobile, setting safari tents for the guests in different places along the river, often places we would canoe to. Now, guests were starting to emerge from these tents to the sight of mist gently rising off the Kafue river, a fire glowing at the waters edge with coffee rusks and porridge on the go and ready. I, other staff, even Gilbert after his startled waking with the lion, bearing smiles and eagerness to explore the surrounding area on foot for the day.
Groves of miombo forest, quite and empty, providing a nice change of tempo compared to dodging elephant and sleeping hippo along the banks of the river itself – certainly the preferred walking area. Waterberries, jackal berries, fish eagles atop and every other bird below. Leopard tracks, fresh. Lion tracks…very fresh. Tracks of herds of buffalo, elephant, sable and puku – no track of people nor road. So much on offer as we set off, guests in trail, with a rising sun to our backs.
This, I think to myself, is a walking safari.
I couldn’t find a picture of Gilbert and I but I thought I’d humour you with a rare few images from my time in the Kafue. Might give you an idea of who you are dealing with here!
Taking guests fishing and then cooking up what we caught is one of my favourite past times, even though I hardly fish anymore.
Retreating away from an elephant we were observing crossing the river. They were extremely aggressive in this area so keep distance between you and them was a wise idea.
Cutting my teeth in anti-poaching with Eagle Group.
Back flipping into crock infested Kafue waters. Neither this nor sleeping with my legs out the tent, were regarded as the dumber things we did back then as young “bush cats”.
Once upon another time in greater Kruger…
Many years have past. I am a little older and a little wiser…a little. I have bounced around various guiding jobs across Africa at this stage, mostly remote and wild places that I could walk, canoe or drive my guests to my hearts content. I have ended up, now, at my first attempt at working in a 5-star, super-luxury, establishment. Quite a different world, this is, compared to often living out of a tent and sharing my guiding duties with, maybe, one other. How different, I was still to find out…the hard way.
By now, I am very fond of taking my guests on walks. Seeing the impact it can have on the safari experience inspires me to do as much of it as I can. Hearing the positive feedback, often in the form of “the walk was our highlight”, I imagine that every place I would end up working at would allow me to give this gift to my guests. This was not to be.
“My guests would like to go on a walk”, I explain to the manager. Of course they wanted to, I had spent the last few hours convincing them. I hadn’t wasted time, either, scouting out blocks in the area that a good (for a road-dense big five reserve) walk could be achieved within – not bumping into roads, relatively easy terrain and flora to navigate. I had a few places in mind. I was ready. But, not for the response I got from said manager…
“Ok that’s fine”, he said. “You will have to ask around the lodge to see if any other guests would like to go on a walk. If others want to go, their guide must join you and you will walk the road that hugs the clearing surrounding the airstrip. The guides will split into two (armed) groups, one behind the guests and one in front and a vehicle will drive close behind, bringing up the rear”.
I struggled, admittedly, regularly, with management in those days, but the conversation that followed that abomination of a suggestion was a particularly fiery one. As ludicrous as it sounded, as if we were escorting our guests through a mine field with a high risk of ambush from gorilla fighters, I lost the argument – predictably. My skills of diplomacy were limited, back then, to say the least.
Things happened quickly after that. My best efforts to convince other guests that a walk was a rubbish idea, had failed. They all wanted to come! Then, I had to wake other guides from their slumber (management insisted walks only be done in the hot midday) to explain that their guests wanted to walk with me and that they had to come. They were furious. I got a few ‘why on earth did you offer a fucking walk you dick head’, and other less eloquent versions, from a few of the disgruntled guides as they pulled their uniform back on and stormed off to grab a rifle.
Before I knew it, the battalion had formed up and we were off.
The selfie I took of the occasion is also lost to time but ChatGPT did a hilariously good job
It will be hard to forget that day. By now my rage had, mercifully, evolved into a comical acceptance of a reality I had no control of. I had three guides next to me, still angry with me, and carrying their rifles in a very ready position. The other two guides were at the back with the backup jeep just behind them in case we ‘ran into a bit of trouble’. Between us were about 15 hot, bored and regretful guests including my own who were looking at me, bewildered, at the contrast between what I had previously described a ‘walk’ to be and what ever the hell we were doing now. I shrugged, and kept marching.
This, I thought to myself, is not a walking safari.
Why does this matter?
It, I feel, is important to describe two extreme ends of a spectrum, sometimes. This is in the hope that quarrelling parties may have at least some common ground, not that I am quarrelling, not yet. I have been known to get into verbal tussles with overseas agents over topics regarding safaris and how they should be conducted by operators and designed for clientele. They, with their handful of site visits to Africa, tend to know better – even when it comes to topics such as walking safaris, an art only a committed walking safari guide gets familiar with after many years in the field and under veteran mentorship…such has been my journey. Anyway.
Two commonalities are…well…far too common in this industry.
The first, this is not in order of which is more ridiculous – they are both equally formidable in this dis/regard, is when lodges say ‘walking is too dangerous’ so we don’t offer it. Usually, this comes down the chain of command, starting with a foreign (a risky guess based on observation that most African camps seem to be foreign-owned these days) ‘lodge owner’ who, frankly, doesn’t know the first thing about the practice. What is a fact, is that under the guidance of a well trained professional a walking safari, even in an area where big-five-like animals roam, does not get within sight of the danger present when someone leaves their home to get groceries. I say again, fact.
Secondly, in contrast to the previous paragraph, is that many a lodge and/or camp, for whatever reason, probably agent-pressure, feels inclined to add ‘a walk’ to the menu. They rush for it. “The more stuff we offer the better our property sells to the overseas market”. They are probably right.
The issue is that a wilderness walk is something of a sacred practice and, yes indeed, it can be dangerous if done wrong. There is so much for all involved to gain when it is done right, done safely. I can’t help but have high expectations every time I see the activity on offer at a lodge I am traveling to with my guests. I want guests to feel ‘the feeling’ when you become connected to nature and grounded whilst on foot in some wild place. Who would not want this for their guests!
It may be because of the hasteful (I know that’s not a word, it should be) nature of many a safari lodge of today, that it has become common to find walks on offer that sadly fall far below the true potential of a walking safari – potentially unsafe too. Under trained guides, terrible walking terrain, walking only in the heat of the day! The list goes on.
Hence, a heartfelt warning to those who wish to do a walking safari in Africa. Chose your lodge/camp carefully because there is most definitely a league measured in emotion wether it be toward the life-changing positive end or the ‘what the fuck was I thinking, I should have stayed in camp and had a massage’ end. And, a tribute to a true patron of the previously mentioned practice and the experience he delivered for us on a recent safari to Zambia.
Mr Stephen Banda
I wish I knew more about Stephen, ever since our first meeting on a far previous walking safari it was obvious this was a man who’s company was a privilege.
It is not often you meet a guide like this, I tell you. Stephen has been in the Luangwa valley for a long time. Time in a place doesn’t matter as much as how long a guide has allowed themself to learn, a fantastic topic for another time. Stephen, even after so many years, continues to learn, therefore is a mountain of knowledge in all its forms.
He shares memories of himself as a child being shown the inside of an aeroplane that was a newish marvel to the Mfuwe area just outside the park. He, who conducted, the excursion into the aircraft for the group of enthralled children was none other the Norman Carr himself – working passionately with the community was something he was well known for, amongst much else. A visionary conservationist who pioneered a true walking safari experience for foreign tourists in the area, maybe Africa. Much has changed since those days (the 1950’s), for example, we can’t walk our two pet, fully grown, rescued lions down to the river bank for a drink, see image below. Oh, those were the days. Unreasonable sometimes, untethered sometimes. But how romantic, wild and beautiful it must of been and, in Normans case, set forward the path of the Luangwa to become one of Africas most extraordinary parks and where one can find some of the best walking safaris on the continent.
Stephen and an old mopane tree
Stephen canoeing our gear across the Luangwa river
Back to Stephen.
A great guide is a custodian of a wild place. Stephen is no exception. After our first walks together I fear that that area of the Luangwa, the experience to be had there and Stephen himself are symbiotic. It spoils you, to be guided by someone like that in such a magnificent wilderness. Mutualism between environment and human patron, that is true guiding. I cannot go back to that place without him, a say to myself. In time, I know I will have to.
Much is interpreted by a walking guide, this is part of the practise, and, most of the time, much can be learnt through these explanations. The birds, the bees, the trees, and everything in between. This is obvious. This is important. Knowledge is easily learnt and easily passed on. But, what is less known, and much more rare, is when a guide connects their guests to the wilderness without saying a word. Yes, by simply being a particular presence that acts as a bridge from one world, whatever one our minds are stuck in prior, to another, the natural one. Just the way they carry themselves is enough. The look in their eye, the gestures, calmness and organic enthusiasm. Many of these guides don’t even know it is happening, but I have observed it, and it is something I cherish. You can’t fake it either – in more tumultuous years of my career, I have tried. I can hardly describe it, actually. What I do know is that few guides wield this power and it comes from years of humble study of self, the natural world and of the people who visit us in our wild places. Stephen, is one of these guides.
I envy his walking stick, it is a fine specimen. Less so, his iconic faded-pink almost knee-high camo gaiters. But, without them, it wouldn’t be Stephen. He is calm, as if walking through his garden at home, maybe he sees it that way. He is funny, even risky with his humour, something I have immense time and respect for – it symbolises a guide who is comfortable with themself and confident in their abilities. He is, of course, incredibly knowledgeable, but his interpretation of the bush conversational, relevant and interesting – not just facts-and-numbers. He sports a smile that, I swear, would stop any elephants charge. Although, some of his stories suggests otherwise. Positive, warm, compassionate and welcoming from the moment you see him for coffee in the morning to when he bids you farewell at night after a long day of walking. It is obvious he has a sense of belonging to this place. He is an eminent of the valley.
Fresh hyena tracks up front and Stephens iconic pink gaiters at the back
There is cover and there is COVER
A great trails guide is not much without a great wilderness area.
Experience, if the quality of could be measured, can only be holistic. The total of all elements of a safari and the effect each has on us, individually and compounded together. A leopard is extraordinary but without a good guide composing it’s significance, and that of the greater scene, I have seen this magnificent cat bore its viewers in minutes! A lodge can look incredible from the outside but without a passionate and well trained team it is doomed to disappoint. Stephen is a helluva man and guide but if him and I were pushing ourselves through a grossly over crowded sighting in the Masai Mara, I would be wishing myself elsewhere. Luckily, the Luangwa, and specifically Stephens area of operation, is a paradise.
We walk from one camp to another. This is not unheard of in Africa but certainly not common. Being dropped at Chikoko Tree camp, after being canoed across the Luangwa river itself, for our first night followed by Big Lagoon Camp for our second night. Aside from the on-foot traverse from Chikoko to Big Lagoon, we walk the surrounding areas during spare mornings and evenings.
The upper viewing deck of Chikoko tree camp
Fire camp at Chikoko. Far back in the image is a watering whole constantly busy with wildlife
Open plan, the best way to experience the bush!
The setup at big lagoon camp.
What is obvious, on arrival, is that the geographic consensus of the Luangwa is defined by the indecisive route of the river itself and the distant, impressive, Muchinga escarpment to the west and less defined eastern escarpment. Abandoning one path for another, leaving nutrient rich oxbows each with its own character, all highly favourable habitats that are dense with life. Repeat this process, with minor variations, for millennia and you have a most extraordinary mosaic of river and wetland, grasslands and ancient forests. A walking safari dream-scape.
Thus, mopane forests lie a way back from the river and are magical to walk through. A cathedral of orange, yellow and green leaves strutted by grey and ancient tree trunks. It is quiet in these groves, being a less favourable brows, and extraordinarily peaceful. Meeves starlings do bring the canopy to life, though, with their chattery sing-song, spiced with a few ‘hoops’ of hornbills and African hoepoes. Find a fallen mopane in such a forest, that catches some ray through mottled canopy, and park your butt on it. Close your eyes, breathe deeply, and be still for a short while and you will know some powerful feelings I assure you. How Stephen sets up these quite moments for us is probably the most tell-tale signs that he is one of the very best guides. Such tranquility, however, may not be as much a luxury, excitingly, once we leave the mopane and approach the river.
The river and its oxbows are no place to ‘nod off’ as we might do in the deep mopane. An ever changing system moulded by drainage, erosion, sediment deposition and climatic cycles. Its flora most definitely favourable to brows and graze, attracts large numbers of elephant, buffalo, puku, impalala, giraffe, and hippo – and this fauna, to mention only a few, commonly hunted upon by lion, leopard, hyena and wild dogs. It is where ‘it all goes down’. It is where we are most conscious of shapes, sounds and sign that might give us clues to what lies ahead and around us.
It is the habit of good walking guides to move from cover to cover. ‘Cover”, being what ever tree, termite mound, river bank or gulley might suffice in halting the further approach of an animal that might be displeased about our presence. Cover, when walking parallel to the Luangwa river, is stunningly beautiful. So, there’s that.
We wonder through the dark and moody old ebony groves, home to Pel’s fishing owls and many baboons – at least the scent of them for they roost in the canopy of these trees in the night to avoid being caught by leopard and lion. Stephen would, then, angle toward the familiar sight of a sausage tree. There are many to choose from and each, this year, sporting hefty sausage-like fruit. Each can be as long as a meter and weigh more than 20kgs. The fruit is heavy and rock hard. I chuckle at Stephen, without fail, when paused beneath such a tree for relief of the sun, assessing the canopy immediately above him and us for fear of being struck by falling ‘sausage’. Jokes aside, people have been killed this way.
Stephen, forever weary of the deadly falling sausage
Sausage cross section
The forest, wether sausage, ebony or mopane may bring us all the way to the river or we may cross a few ‘wafwa’s’ meaning dead in the local language, as in dead river, and describes oxbows where, once, the river flowed. Now covered in short green grass and often still containing a bit of water, a wafwa is a delight to sit aside and watch numerous mammalian antics from afar. On one particular morning, with favourable wind and sun, we had over 100 buffalo pass curiously by us from no more than 70 meters away. There are, also, occasions when we must, and with great caution, navigate a few thickets of ‘jesse bush’. This grey haze, a tangle of combretum and salvadora bushes, is a deciduous and often hard to navigate thicket. Most of the time, the pathways through jesse bush have been carved by elephant, buffalo and hippo – hence the ‘great caution’.
A buffalo encounter to remember
It is about the little things…and its still about the big things.
“Ideas are dangerous, but the man to whom they are least dangerous is the man of ideas. He is acquainted with ideas, and moves among them like a lion-tamer. Ideas are dangerous, but the man to whom they are most dangerous is the man of no ideas. The man of no ideas will find the first idea fly to his head like wine to the head of a teetotaller. It is a common error…”
G.K. Chesterton
The idea, is that one must ignore the animals (usually hinting toward ‘big-five’/larger species) that we see on game drive whilst we are on a walk, even avoid them! This notion is one I strongly oppose. It is common, sadly, throughout Africa. Usually, it becomes of ill-experienced and unconfident guide trainers/lodge owners who pass on a the lack of understanding unto their unknowing students or guide team. Hierarchy without proper leadership, students under the spell that all that is taught to them must be true, no safe space to question. An ideology is born. The guiding industry is littered with them, for better or for worse.
It is quite simple, you are either adequately trained and confident in your abilities as a walking guide in areas where you might encounter big game (elephant, rhino, buffalo, Lion, etc) and therefore should bring these characters into the story where you might be lucky enough to encounter them, safely and ethically. Or, you are not and you should not be walking with guests in these areas at all. Flagship species, are not the focus of a walk but, by god, they are amazing to encounter on foot under proper guidance. The feeling is so vastly different that it cannot be compared to viewing the same species from a vehicle. Track the lion, find it, explain the medicinal uses of purple pan weed, commit to a bird list for the day, spend 20min with a horde of Matabele ants – it is all so brilliant to experience whilst your feet are on the floor, in the dust.
It would be hard to count the amount of times I have heard guides begin a walk with the phrase, ‘its is not about animals, its about the little things that we miss whilst on drive”. You, who is running around Africa teaching this nonsense, I hope to catch you one day. Indeed, a walk is a wonderful opportunity to understand these interesting details we tend to miss because of the nature of being on a vehicle. The faster pace, the elevation, the sound of the engine – all make it difficult to notice less obvious characters or stories of the bushveld. One has to stop, listen and look carefully and be well-guided in order to notice and understand. It is much easier when on foot, yes. These ‘small things’ should be sought and explained when on foot, yes. But, avoid encountering (viewing from a safe distance) ‘big’ animals whilst walking? Avoid the feeling of being ‘on-foot with giants’? You are not protecting you guests from anything, you are robbing them of one of the most impactful moments of their life!
As it is 2026 and having an opinion is illegal to so many and travel agents are going to be frothing to have a crack at me, as usual. I must briefly disclaim. Every walk, every situation, every guide, every area is different and walks should be conducted in accordance to the best experience available done in a safe and ethical manor. I have conducted walks with guests who have a phobia of elephants due to previous and terrifying encounters, I made sure to do my best not to get within sight of one. I have walked in areas where elephant were abnormally aggressive toward people due to the presence of trophy hunting and poaching – I gave them (elephant and trophy hunter) a very wide birth, sometimes so wide we never actually saw them. There is, obviously, always exceptions.
Back to the bush.
Once we reach the river, via whatever route Stephen deemed both safe and interesting. The feeling of the walk changes entirely. The banks of the river at this time of year are almost completely bare, albeit the larger trees. With water being scarce, this area is heavily utilised by wildlife and most of what can be eaten, has been eaten.
Walking the river bank is a delight. There, it seems easy to believe, is not a hundred meters of Luangwa river that does not have a bubbling, snorting and splashing-about pod of hippo. Once we have stopped and paid homage to the first pod of these immense, comical and fascinating creatures we continue along the river bank. The hippo being in the river, we hope, and us on land means we are very much in a safe and comfortable place. They, if provided with a large body of water, will never leave the safety of the water body to harass a potential threat from a afar. Its just not how they think. So, it is a wonderful experience to walk high above and alongside so many pods of hippo, each snorting and hooting there various disprovals of our presence. One pod simmering down as we pass by and get far enough away from them as the next pod ahead of us starts up with vigour. The symphonies of the Luangwa in full as we stroll along its edges.
Walking the banks of the Luangwa
The team observes a large pod of hippo
This riverbank section- as we wrap up this brief account of what it is like to walk on safari, and to walk in this area, is an awesome experience. You see, we never really take our eye of the hippo for long, especially because they are making such a big deal about us as we pass by. But, especially Stephen, must pay attention, mostly, to the woods and grasslands flanking our other side. Clues as to why is everywhere. The ground here is stomped into a fine powder from countless journeys of wild animals both large and small and everything in between coming to drink. It is obvious that, even if you can’t see them, the habitat is full of game!
Even the track of the sengi (elephant shrew) is obvious in the sand as if drawn by fine-line pencil. Fresh elephant tracks, circular pads double the size of your largest frying pan, each uniquely cracked, resembling a densely populated road map of a city, are everywhere. As we walk we make sure to see them before they become aware of us. Often holding back as they come to drink or cross the river in front of us. It is a dance. We give, we go, we give way to buffalo or elephant and we go again. This is the magic of a true walking safari.
Finding a large crocodiles skull far from the river, fascinating!
Shortly after seeing lions, Stephen looks for a good spot for tea.
A curious Thornycrofts giraffe watches us
Elephant of the Luangwa
The route we have chosen is deliberate. In the night, a lion passed by camp. He roared. Multiple times. Close enough to shake the air around us. Thank you, I whispered to whatever/whoever, whilst lying in my bed. As it is something visitors to Africa will never forget, you see. If lying in a tent or reed walled room as a lion vocalises nearby, you can’t prepare someone for that. The combination of the unimaginable volume of its roar followed by the silence, even the insects hold their tongue. It is Africa’s most impressive moment and I am grateful for every time my guests and I are gifted with it.
The lion seems to have headed west-south-west…toward the river. A general direction is good, hope is, however, never high as finding big cats on foot is a challenge. Being very weary of humans and having significantly superior senses means, most of the time, they see us coming long before we know they are there and move off. But, we try anyway. And, simply tracking and searching for a lion on foot is a helluva thing to do!
Admittedly, I started to loose hope we were going to see lions on that walk. As the sun gets higher in the sky, animals begin to bed down in the shade for the day and tracks and sign becomes ever harder to follow or even notice. We had found fresh lion track but it was headed in a different direction and we quickly lost it over the concrete-like black cotton clay fields that are characteristic of this area. Optimus Prime (100ft high robot) wouldn’t leave a track over that stuff let alone a soft-padded cat, albeit a large one.
We were crossing a large grassy flood plain with inviting sausage on the far side, once one has been there long enough and are local one is permitted to refer to sausage trees (one or many) as just sausage. As is customary with Remote Africa, a tea-barer accompanies us on walks who, when Stephen is satisfied with the spot, will rub sticks to make fire, brew some coffee and we will wash down the leftovers of yesterdays afternoon teas cake. Personally, I am now so looking forward to the tea and cake that I, almost, don’t want to be distracted by another encounter with wildlife. But lions, they can distract you from even the most intoxicating hunger.
Im almost always at the back of the line, with my guest in front of me, and the guide and scout leading us all. Usually the further in front you are the better your visual will be, especially with fleeting encounters. I am also 6’3’ and rather hefty so don’t want to be in the way of the guests who wish to see something ahead of us. Hence this decision.
Even from my backward position I knew immediately that Stephen and the scout had seen lions in the long grass halfway across the plain. They whispered something along the lines of “there’s the lions” and guests adjacent to them that could hear, immediately tucked themselves in behind the two and looked in the direction they were pointing. It was their posture that told me everything I needed to know. The same that all humans adopt when we first notice the big cats. Hunched, muscles tense, keeping low and a wild look in their eye. Its not fear, at least not when the lions are at a good distance, as these were, rather than spooked from the grass right in front of us, of course. It is primal excitement on their faces. It is about as ‘present’ as you can ever be, when suddenly aware you are on foot with a lion, even for the veteran. There is pride there too. After much effort, and almost giving up, we have found the lions.
There are many animals in the African bush that of a similar size and colour. Big’ish and beige is a fairly common evolutionary choice. The habitat often being of a similar shade, this makes sense for animals that wish to stay hidden to avoid being hunted or to succeed at hunting. You would think that, from afar, it would be hard to tell them all apart – sometimes it is. But, not with lion.
It was their first trip to Africa, it was their first time seeing lion in the wild. In a floodplain peppered with impala and puku (big and beige), we all focused on the shape of a lion rising up out of the grass immediately. It is much to do with its shape, the huge shoulder blades and the massive head hunched over – as it had noticed us. The blacked tipped tail, flicking signals of aggression, also gives it away as a large male sub-adult lion. But there is something else, in my opinion, that helps us humans determine what is it that walks through the grass. A calculation of shape, colour, context and little sixth sense that says that big and beige thing is no puku! I imagine, those who frequent the bushveld may find this easier than those who grow up and live their lives in a city.
Tale flicking and head down he slowly made for the edge of the plain, seeking the cover of the woodland. “There are others” whispers Stephen. From where the big male stood up, other shapes rose out of the grass. 4 adult females stood up, staring at us. Stephen and I exchange a quite high-five, this is both a rare and powerful moment for all of us. The gaze of lion toward us on foot is never one that suggests fondness or friendliness. It is a fierce look, it humbles you and makes your feel quite insignificant. The four big females flick their tales and follow the path of the male who is already starting to disappear into the forest. Every 50 meters or so they stop and face us, as fierce as always, tale whipping as if to say ‘you are lucky we are feeling obliging today and we will yield to your passing’. The whole encounter lasted about 20 minuets and its something, even with many lion encounters under my belt, none of us will ever forget.
The sub-adult male lion walking off.
The lioness glaring at us.
Tea, cake and concluding thoughts
The South Luangwa National Park covers roughly 9,050 square kilometres, but its biological richness isn’t simply a product of size. The Luangwa River and its network of oxbow lagoons and seasonal wetlands create an enormous concentration of life. Whilst we sip on hot tea and wolf away lemon poppy seed cake in the shade of a sauasag-safe-sausage-tree, we relive the short days we’ve had already and all that we have encountered. The moment we saw the lions, only a few hundred meters behind us – knowing those lions are still watching us was an ever present thrill on that particular tea-stop. The close encounters with Thornycrofts giraffe, the large male leopard that was lying right next to the road on our way to camp. The multitude of elephant and the buffalo herds that walked right passed us on a previous walk. We have identified many a bird, learnt about the little clearings a sengi makes in the leaf matter so that it may have an easy path to its hole when evading predation. We have spent many a minute on our haunches studying tracks and insects. Many quite moments in the forest watching zebra, baboons and kudu in the distance. We are only a few days into this safari and already it feels life we have experienced enough to full a worthy half-novel. But remember, experience is a holistic measure.
The encounters we have had were not merely the observations, they were feelings too. Those feelings were only made possible in the company of a certain kind of guide. A knowledgeable guide. A humble guide. A passionate guide. A compassionate guide. A safe guide. A respectful guide. This persons will take a safari from just an expense to a life-changing journey. Thank you Stephen, for creating such a journey for us.
Stephen and scout, pondering and chatting.
Tea and cake in the bush, that’s what its all about!
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