Back to the Harare airport for a 45-minute flight north to Kariba. Standing in line to check our bags and eavesdropping on the conversation between the couple behind me as another check-in line labelled "Victoria Falls" opens next to us:

She - "Lets go get in that line"

He - "We're not going to Victoria Falls."

She - "Yes we are!"

The plane turns out to be a 737 jet: it still doesn't feel like Africa.

We are met at the Kariba airport by John Berry, who takes us to a small shop near the airport to hang out and chat while we waite for Craig McRae, the owner of Call of Africa safaris. He is going to drive us to his camp at Mana Pools National Park.

First wildlife sighting: two baboons behind the shop. A sign nearby says "Wild Animals are Dangerous." A few months earlier an elephant had wandered onto the runway, temporarily disrupting traffic.

Craig shows up in a battered Land Rover with no top. He takes one look at our two small backpacks and camera bag and says, "You must not be Americans!" Craig is surprised to see tourists on a 20-day trip with so little luggage: he informs me that Americans usually show up with multiple large suitcases. "Get ready for the journey to hell" he said.

The four-hour drive takes us over rolling hills through a sun-scorched landscape. At this time of year, the end of the long dry season, everything looks parched and almost dead. The arrival of the rains in November brings the vegetation to life almost overnight, but for now it looks like everything has been burned.

Second game sighting: I spot three beautiful sable antelope, which are not often seen, almost a mile away on a hillside. "Nice sighting" murmurs Craig.

The temperature is blistering, and the uncovered vehicle doesn't help. Eventually we turn off the paved road onto a dusty dirt track. Another hour of teeth-chattering driving and we enter the park. Immediately we start seeing zebra, baboons, waterbuck (an antelope), warthog, impala, buffalo, even three mongoose. This is looking promising!

Muttering thanks, we finally pull into camp on the bank of the Zambezi River; a modest affair with four guest tents, an eating area under a tree, tents for the staff and a kitchen area behind a canvas screen. The tents are spacious, with two cots and comfortable mattresses, a small table and high enough at the center for me to stand up. A small screened window in the rear gives some cross-ventilation.

We meet our campmates, Graeme and Jane Walker, Zambezi Valley veterans from England. This is their fifth trip in five years: they are hooked on bushwalking. Our guide is Gus, a bearded 47-year old Zimbabwean who had been guiding for years and looks the part right down to his hat, a battered, once white model that appears to have been trampled by an entire buffalo herd.

The view from camp is stupendous. Grassy islands meander down the river. The hills of Zambia rise up from the far side, brown and smoky from veldfires, common at this time of year. In the fading late afternoon sun, two bull elephants graze the green vegetation on the near island. I was soon observing them from the refreshing comfort of a cool shower, enjoyed at the river's edge in a three-sided enclosure: the finest view I have ever experienced naked!

As the sun sets we watched the two elephants cross the channel back to the bank. Graeme is down river, and has a picture-perfect view of them midstream silhouetted against the sun. Jane is sitting farther down the bank, and as they came out of the water they pass within 40 yards of her before disappearing into the bush, making Gus a bit concerned.

To make it perfectly clear, there is no fence of any kind around bushcamps like this in Zimbabwe. It is in a national park full of wildlife, and during the night animals roam around as if humans aren't there at all. We fall asleep listening to the baritone grunts of hippos and the occasional bark of a hyena.This is wonderful.


I finally feel like I am in Africa.