Help – there’s a hippo next door!
Lucy Verasamy has some close encounters of the very wild kind on her amazing Zambian safari
I’D NEVER visited ‘real’ Africa before, but as we flew from Nairobi to Lusaka and caught a glimpse out of the window at snow-capped Mt Kilimanjaro, it felt as if we were slap bang in the middle of this huge continent.
A ten-seater plane then took us on a bumpy journey to Mfuwe, the main gateway to the Luangwa Valley – and touched down at a remote, arid airstrip in blazing sunshine. June is the start of Zambia’s winter (or dry) season – it was no surprise to learn their winters are warmer than our summers…
The long drive into the vastness of the South Luangwa National Park – which is twice the size of Wales – was impressive. We saw zebras with their perfect Mickey Mouse ears, ridiculously noisy snorting hippos and swooping birds of prey – and that was just in the first half hour. Brian, our guide, was jolly, smiley and affable – and clearly loved his job.
Nsolo Bush Camp was our first stop and one of six safari camps founded by British conservationist Norman Carr in the 1960s. It was simple and remote, but felt luxurious. The four bedrooms were all made out of natural materials. There were wooden floors and walls of reeds and grasses, along with en suite open-air bathrooms and beds draped in Out Of Africastyle mozzie nets.
After lunch we took our chairs down to the sandy banks of the almost empty Luwi River to sit, read and flop in the sun, but we couldn’t relax. We were distracted by a couple of hippos bathing a few hundred feet away and they made the most unique noise – a sort of loud horse snort followed by a deep Barry White-style bass-y laugh. It sounded a little bit prehistoric.
Our first evening safari was on foot. Walking safaris, pioneered by Carr, are a signature of his camps today. We were closely accompanied by Brian and the safe addition of a ‘scout’ – armed and dressed in camouflage. It hits home that we are on the animals’ turf and things could easily turn in a heartbeat.
Brian weaved us in and out of the long grasses and brambles and played detective, giving us a lesson in animal foot, hoof, paw prints… and dung. He pointed out that some dung was a territorial move by a pack of hyenas – the stark white chalkiness from the calcium in the bones they had scavenged.
With Nsolo being an open camp, we had to be escorted to our rooms by the duty scout at all times, and I soon understood why. My first night I was awoken by the thud of heavy footsteps – the unmistakable loud snort of a hippo ripping up big clumps of grass right outside my room. Lying in bed I froze. My heart quickened. I wasn’t going to chance a look from the open-air veranda and a stand-off with one of Africa’s most dangerous animals.
I also thought I heard a lion roar – but couldn’t be sure if it was a vivid dream. Next morning it was confirmed. There was a lion in camp. We were really in the thick of it.
OUR safari drives and walks always took place in the early morning or evening when the animals were at their most active. Our wake-up calls were so early that it was still dark – but it was worth it for the open-air shower alone.
A five-mile early morning walk through the varied vegetation of the African Bush took us to Luwi – a slightly bigger camp where the rooms were endearingly wonky and built to incorporate the surrounding vegetation.
During one morning drive we saw a few giraffes lurching across our route to have breakfast – their long limbs should have made them stalk awkwardly, but they drifted elegantly past us. We saw nimble-footed, bambi-limbed impalas as well as other antelope-like species I’d never seen – kudu, puku and waterbuck. It was a lesson in zoology. I lost count of the number of hippos we saw, usually submerged in the water – the tops of their heads, twitchy ears and snorting nostrils surfacing occasionally.
We learnt that, when those massive rib-crushing jaws open, it’s a warning-off signal. Crocodiles were always well camouflaged, lurking on the riverbank close by. Sneaky.
Morning drives were punctuated by tea stops – the jeep’s front grille was unfolded to make the perfect table for a row of stainless-steel mugs. Loo stops were carefully selected with our armed scout, Azire, on the lookout before we nipped behind a bush. Spending a penny felt like playing roulette!
One morning as we bounced along in our jeep, Azire spotted a female leopard. How he did it, I have no idea – and even when we stopped to take a look beyond the long grasses through our binoculars I still couldn’t see her. Eventually my eyes found her amazing markings. We were about to head on our way when we noticed her kill in the tree nearby – an impala draped lifeless between the trunk and branches.
ANOTHER brief spotting of a shy male leopard followed – Brian suspected he was eyeing up the female’s breakfast. In a flash she was up in the tree dragging her kill up to higher branches – the leaves rustled and we could hear her distinctive warning growls. It felt like a privilege to have seen it right before our eyes.
Chinzombo was our final port of call, the newest and most luxurious of the camps. Accessible only by a short boat ride across the Luangwa river, the camp looked impressive even from a distance, combining the smart and modern with the traditional. It reminded me of an Indiana Jones film set or something out of an interiors magazine. The corner of the bar was a mini-library with faded black-and-white pictures of a young Norman Carr walking alongside lions in the Fifties.
Here, open to the banks of the river and under an ancient canopy of trees, baboons were casually strolling around, nit-picking each others’ fur. On the other side of the river, a giraffe lurched through the tree line. One afternoon we couldn’t take the regular route back to our room as a couple of elephants had wandered into camp.
We were thoroughly spoilt by sunsets every evening. Stopping our drives for sundowners (evening glasses of wine), we always found ourselves in a beautiful location.
The colours in the sky changed the look of the landscape minute by minute, on one occasion as warthogs trotted off into the dusty sunset in the distance, Lion King style.
My first safari experience blew me away, but I think I barely scratched the surface.