Everyone falls for ride on wild side
CLARE FITZSIMONS sees Africa’s wildlife up close in their natural habitat on a spectacular safari
THE SMOKE That Thunders... the majestic Victoria Falls in Africa. Yet today it’s The Mist That Whimpers. But do you know what? It really doesn’t matter. I’d arrived in Zambia in October, a month before the rainy season and was told the falls would be, in a word... dry. But any worries were forgotten from the first glimpse; turning a corner to see the winding gorge, the craggy rock walls dropping impossibly far down to the rapid-filled river below.
The small falls where the remaining water had found its way to the edge and its 350ft drop, flowing around almosthorizontal trees that somehow have survived the usual 300,000 gallons of water a second. Still magnificent.
In fact, I can’t help feeling the dry falls could even be better. Yes, the deafening roar of the water is absent but the sheer scale seems so much more evident without the water and spray that encompasses it the rest of the year.
As well as walking alongside the falls you can see them from the air by helicopter, complete with return trip over the Zambezi river with herds of elephants clearly visible grazing their way across the lush green islands that emerge from the river during dry season. This is undeniably Africa. And
with Africa comes wildlife – and lots of it. I’d expected perhaps a far-away spotting of one or two of the Big Five – lions, elephants, rhinos, buffalos and leopards. Maybe, if I was lucky, an up-close look at a few elephants or buffalos.
What I found in just six days in Zambia were more incredible experiences of wild animals than I could ever have imagined. Hundreds of elephants, herds of buffalos crossing the river to escape a predator, yawning hippo pods at every turn, lions lazing in the morning sun and leopards stalking silently through the night in search of dinner.
The only thing missing were rhinos – though you can go on a walking safari to see them in the Mosi-oa-Tunya National Park just outside Livingstone. The park – the local name for the falls and of Mosi, the national beer – was the location of my first night’s stay. The River Club, a small but beautiful collection of luxury tented lodges is in the heart of the national park. Set on the edge of the river you can watch hippos from your balcony as monkeys swing through the trees. A sunset boat cruise, dodging hippo pods and spotting dozens of birds as the enormous sun turns the river and sky a beautiful red is a must. For
those who want more of a traditional hotel, the David Livingstone Safari Lodge is just a few miles away and a good base to settle in before heading to the wilder Lower Zambezi area. I took a couple of very short internal flights to reach it. One on a six-seater plane so small I sat in the co-pilot seat (an experience not to be missed if you get the chance).
And after landing at Jeki airstrip – more of a dirt patch – we flew over first to check nothing had gone for a snooze in the middle of it – Lawrence, our guide for the next two days, picked us up in a safari truck.
Faced with the choice of a game drive or going to freshen up, we overwhelmingly voted for animals.
And boy did we get them. Thousands of impalas (like little deer) skittered everywhere, herds of elephants – including babies only a few months old – wandered through the trees just yards away and buffalo glared at us as we rumbled by.
At our home for the night, Anabezi Camp, we were taken to our tents. Well, tents might be a bit of a misnomer. They’re canvas on the outside but come with a huge bed, sofa, bath and private deck overlooking the river. Not to mention the outside shower – everyone should try a starlight shower once in their lives, though just remember to check for visitors (our group had a spider and a snake try to join them).
THAT’S THE other thing about Zambia in October. It’s hot. Very, very hot. Temperatures hit almost 40C through the day and barely feel much lower at night. You have a fan above your bed but forget any thoughts of air-conditioning – you’re still in a tent.
But it turns out there’s something that might actually be better – a late-night dip in your very own private plunge pool on the deck. Leaning on the edge of the pool, looking out over the Zambezi, Mosi in hand and listening to the sounds of the night’s wildlife as you gradually cool down, is simply breathtaking.
Not that the sounds of the bush are always quite so calming. Nothing like a 3am wake-up call from a snorting and bellowing hippo with only a bit of canvas and some wooden poles between you. I wasn’t in any real danger of course. The tents are stilted and the whole camp is raised up on boardwalks. You’re safe enough to walk around through the day, looking down on the baboons running below and warthogs munching their way through the grass by your front door.
But at night guests are escorted by a member of staff with a torch to look out for anything that might mistake you for a snack.
Apparently the odd leopard does