A walking safari is an assault on the senses in the best possible way. 

The sounds and smells take on a different meaning and at a slower pace it’s a chance to read the signposts of the bush. 

Following animal spoor is just one way to enjoy a walking safari, and in this notebook entry Nessa recounts one particular afternoon:

We’d had a stunning morning game drive through the mopane trees, round and about the various salt licks of Hwange, seeing plenty of wildlife along the way, returning to Nehimba Lodge for lunch and a dip in the pool to cool off. The dip in the pool was kiboshed by some local eles who fancied the fresh clean water for themselves and drank the pool dry as we watched from the safety of the lodge. 

As the midday sun abated, my guide Butch suggested we take an afternoon walk instead of a drive, and I’m the first to put my hand up for such an experience. Other guests had only recently arrived and opted for a drive, so we agreed to meet them at a pre-arranged spot for sundowners, them arriving by vehicle, Butch and I on foot. So off we set.

We hadn’t got far from the confines of the lodge when we picked up the first signpost of the afternoon. Namely a splattering of dung so widespread it could only have been left by a passing herd of buffalo. Their footprints were heading in the same direction as we were, so we decided to follow. 

Butch lives and breathes Hwange, he has done for years, so he had an inkling the buffalo were headed for a waterhole not too far away. If we kept quiet, and a safe distance back, we might just creep up on them and get an up-close and personal view.

As we strolled silently and slowly through the bush – always sticking to the open areas, with eyes and ears on full alert, we passed some inquisitive impala, warthog whizzed past us and a young skittish bull elephant defended his patch with flapping ears. Butch pointed out butterflies, bugs and birds, the trail left behind by a snake (not for me, thank you) and we kept following the buffalo trail.

After about 40 minutes of wandering and watching, we picked up the undeniable scent of a herd of buffalo so we knew we weren’t too far away. Butch turned with a finger to his lips and we crept up a termite mound, beyond which was the waterhole we were looking for. With heightened anticipation, I crawled up behind him and peered over to see…nothing. Well, there was a lovely waterhole, but not a sign nor squeak of an animal. The buffalo had clearly been but were also long gone.

Butch’s radio crackled into life as the other guide was confirming his imminent arrival at said waterhole but there were some lions doing lion stuff that the other guests wanted to enjoy. Not one to disrupt another person’s safari, Butch and I concluded that we’d take the direct route back towards camp and enjoy our sundowners on the deck – also then not walking ourselves in the direction of the lions.

We left the buffalo tracks in the dry dusty ground, leaving them to be found another time, instead we spotted plenty of other interesting things to talk about and look at. So lost in chatter were we, about how so many buffalo could just disappear, as we rounded the bend into camp, we were caught somewhat by surprise to see 200+ of the beasts wallowing in the mud IN CAMP.  The cheek of it.

One gin & tonic later, Butch and I put our feet up and chuckled at the irony of walking a giant circle in search of what was literally on our doorstep.

Vanessa