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Stalk this way

Tremayne Carew Pole

Wednesday, 16th July 2008

South Luangwa National Park, Zambia

In the first hour of walking, more animals appear than imagined in my wildest fantasies: it’s as if I’ve just walked through a cageless London Zoo. Gnarled wild figs and sausage trees provide the perfect camouflage for birds and mammals alike, and rounding the edge of a grove we are confronted by a matriarchal elephant with her two tiny offspring. All of us, including the elephants, are more than a little surprised, and suddenly I’m being urged behind a tree as maternal instincts are aroused and four tonnes of overprotective mother are hurtling towards us. Hiding behind the trunk of an ancient tree pacifies her and she trots off grumpily, babies in tow. On foot, one is struck by how much animals rely on their sense of smell. We spend half an hour walking across an open expanse 100 yards behind a pair of bull elephants who seem oblivious to our presence; when they turn to look in our direction we turn to stone. Their eyesight is poor and at a glance I imagine we look like trees. A momentary shift in the wind direction betrays our presence, and their turn of speed is startling as they disappear over the horizon. Later, a hungry wart-hog works its way to within a couple of feet of us before realising what we are and, with a squeal and a flick of the tail, trots to safety.

Finally, we find our lions basking in the shade of a tree on the river’s edge. Three tufted heads appear out of the long grass; they’re adolescent males — the hoodies of the pride — and worryingly without the normally restraining influence of the lionesses. Immediately it becomes apparent that we’re not wanted there, as they rise growling to their feet. Twenty yards away the three lions fan out and approach the four of us.

‘Stand your ground’ is the mantra drilled into clients over and over again. If a lion, elephant or other oversized, sharp-clawed and long-toothed mammal decides to test your mettle, don’t move, don’t even flinch — stand your ground, cross your fingers and hope. The force of will required not to scramble for the nearest tree, reach the croc-infested river or outrun the slowest member of the group is unbelievable. Luckily, they’re right, and as the first sweet shots of adrenaline surge through my brain, the lions decide we aren’t really worth it and pass us by, settling in the shade of a wild fig.

Later, as we stumble, weary and dusty, into our tented camp for the night we are met with silver salvers bearing cold, damp cloths and ice-cold gin and tonics, while the table laid with china and crystal bodes well for dinner. The 1920s elegance of the scene makes you wish you’d packed your dinner jacket. Everything about the experience is impeccable — the service, the camp food and the charming and insightful company of the knowledgeable guides. As night falls and complete darkness takes over, the night sky becomes a canvas criss-crossed with constellations, white dwarves and red giants. When you finally turn your lantern off, the animals begin to take over the camp — hippos, elephants and the occasional leopard wander through and the sounds of Africa course through the night, leaving you in quivering anticipation of your 5 a.m. wake-up call and the splendours of the next Zambian dawn.