Southern Africa stretches from the vast sands of the Kalahari Desert to the rocky headland that is the Cape of Good Hope. The grasslands and woodlands that cover much of the region are home to antelope, elephants, giraffes and zebras, as well as predators, lions, leopards, wild dogs and cheetahs. Staying in safari camps and travelling on bumpy, dusty roads allowed us to observe and photograph these magnificent animals in their natural habitat.

 

Safari game viewing required four-wheel-drive vehicles with three rows of passenger seats behind a guide and a tracker. There were no doors or windows, so getting in and out of these off-road vehicles involved climbing up and down narrow steps on the side of the Landcruiser. We quickly got into the routine of early morning and late afternoon game drives, the times when animals were most active. African safaris are not for the faint-hearted but for those with a great sense of adventure.

 

Local trackers were experts in identifying and following wildlife tracks, as well as interpreting animal behavior. When an impala herd raced across the road at a game reserve in South Africa, our tracker was certain the impalas were startled by a leopard. Sure enough, he spotted a large male leopard crouched nearby in the long grass. Annoyed that we interrupted his hunt, the cat snarled in displeasure, then disappeared into the undergrowth. Wow! What a way to start our journey.

 

Private game reserves often provide opportunities to see animals that you may not see in the wild. While the reserve seemed like a large zoo, minus the cages, the only rhinoceros we saw was in this game park. Its horn had been removed as a defense against poaching. Both black and white rhinos are so few that governments do not reveal their location.

 

The tented camp in Zimbabwe’s Hwange National Park overlooked the Makalolo Plains. In the early morning light, a male cheetah sat on the bank of a waterhole near our tent, scanning the surroundings. The cat’s reflection in the water created a mirror image of his slender body, spotted coat and long tail. Joined by his brother, the pair headed off across the savanna in search of prey.

 

The camp’s chef prepared delicious homestyle meals. Mornings started with oatmeal and muffins as we huddled around a campfire, followed by cookies and a steaming cup of hot tea or coffee during the morning safari. Then, it was back to camp for brunch with eggs, bacon and lots of fresh fruit.

 

True to British tradition dating back to colonial times, high tea with fresh pastries was served mid-afternoon. Evening game drives routinely included “sundowners,” drinks and snacks enjoyed at a scenic spot while taking in the breathtaking sunsets. Returning to camp, dinner was a three-course meal that included a chicken or beef entree (sometimes local game was on the menu), and lots of healthy vegetables and salads. The food quality was superb, the challenge was too much food and too little exercise.

 

Recognizable by their long, curved beaks, hornbills were often seen in pairs and invariably appeared when we stopped for sundowners. Local people playfully referred to the red-billed hornbill as the “chili pepper” bird. True to their name, the ground hornbill only hunts on land. Their large size and vivid red patches of bare skin on the face and throat made these birds easy to spot as they foraged in the woodlands.

 

As an elephant herd approached a waterhole, they quickened their pace, then ran into the water splashing and spraying water over themselves. Wildebeest and baboons scurried out of their way, then periodically inched forward hoping to get a quick drink. Elephant calves were delightful, as they played in the water and rolled in the mud under the watchful eyes of their mothers.

 

One industrious elephant used his trunk to dig up a pipe that supplied water to a manmade pool. The young adult considered the water fountain his own personal water source and was unwilling to share his prize with others. During a morning break for tea, a teenage male elephant flared his ears to make himself look bigger, trumpeted loudly and charged in a mock display of his size and strength. Our tracker appeared undaunted as he waved his arms back and forth, driving off the youngster. Typical teenager bluster.

 

Easily identified by their corkscrew antlers, kudus have the largest horns of any antelope species. On the other end of the scale, steenboks, with short spike horns and what looked like “tree branches” on the inside of their large ears, were so small they could be mistaken for baby antelopes.

 

The most impressive antelope found among the wooded savanna was the sable, a barrel-chested animal with a thick mane and ringed horns that curved backwards over three feet in length. When a sable stood and held its head high, I was reminded of a horse. Remarkably, the sable maintained this position even when it ran, making the animal look even larger.

 

With plentiful game in the park, we encountered multiple lion prides who spent most of the day sleeping, occasionally opening their eyes for a brief glance at their surroundings. Cubs were more active as they wrestled and practiced stalking one another. The dark scars on the faces and flanks of male lions reminded me of how perilous their lives were. At dusk, adult lionesses rested on termite mounds, using these vantage points to scan for prey.

 

Visiting a village near the park provided a glimpse into life for the majority of Zimbabweans. One woman plastered her home with mud made from termite mounds. Other women ground corn to make flour for porridge and bread, while the men worked in the fields and herded cattle. As we drank tea and ate cookies with the extended family, the women freely shared their thoughts on how they wished to improve their lives. I had to smile when I heard the more political responses from the village elders.

 

Crossing the Victoria Falls Bridge that links Zimbabwe and Zambia, we drove through Livingstone, named for the famous explorer. Doctor Livingstone believed in the African people and was instrumental in ending the slave trade in Africa. Many places renamed during the colonial era have reverted to the original names used by the native people. The city’s name remains due to the people’s deep respect for Livingstone.

 

The indigenous name for Victoria Falls is Mosi-oa-Tunya, "The Smoke that Thunders." On seeing the massive waterfall on the Zambezi River, Livingstone named it after the British monarch at the time, Queen Victoria. The powerful curtain of falling water is more than a mile wide as it crashes into a deep gorge creating a cloud of “smoke.” Walking along the pathway on the opposite side of the falls, the vivid colors of a rainbow were visible through the mist that covered us in water droplets.

 

The first of several single-engine plane flights to remote bush camps took a little over an hour. Our encampment in Kafue National Park was located at the confluence of the Lufupa and Kafue rivers. The lodge’s deck overlooking the slow-moving waters was the perfect place to relax and watch hippos pop in and out of the water, with only their nostrils, eyes and ears visible. Vervet monkeys waited in the trees overhead, hoping for an opportunity to steal food.

 

I do not consider myself a “birder,” but the variety of birds astounded me as we cruised the rivers. Goliath herons waded in the water while jacanas glided across the tops of the floating vegetation. Cormorants and darters perched in trees with their wings outspread to dry after diving for fish. An elusive and rare orange-beaked finfoot swiftly disappeared into a small inlet.

 

Enormous crocodiles basked along the shore or lurked in the river while vervets and puku, shaggy coated antelope, nervously drank at the water’s edge. Various kingfisher species perched in trees, then swooped down and snatched fish from the water. Our guide and some of our fellow travelers dropped lines into the water, hoping to catch fish. That evening, we had fresh bream and tilapia for dinner.

 

Several birds were especially colorful. The saddle-billed stork featured distinctive red, black and yellow bands across its long beak. A majestic fish eagle, adorned with a white head and a hook-shaped beak that reminded me of a bald eagle, surveyed the river from its treetop lookout.

 

One bird stood out from the rest, the lilac-breasted roller. Its vibrant plumage was a stunning display of colors, green head, rusty cheeks and lilac breast. Taking flight, the blue hues of the wing feathers transitioned from cobalt to turquoise to indigo.

 

Entering Botswana was more challenging than previous countries and it was not just the increased safety measures. A troop of baboons wandered across the security area and were known to grab whatever they could, including wallets, phones and even cameras. A large male rummaged through a trash bin looking for food, unconcerned by my presence.

 

The safari lodge accommodations in Chobe National Park resembled mountain chalets. Each steep-roofed wooden cabin was built on the hillside at the transition from dense woodlands of mahogany, teak, and ironwood, to the lush Chobe River floodplain. The wide range of habitats in Chobe made it home to countless animal species.

 

Elephants often dug in the ground seeking minerals to offset their diet. After watching elephants eat trees, the need to supplement their nutrition was understandable. Their fiber-rich dung was everywhere and acted as a fertilizer.

 

Approaching the site of a dead animal, the stench was so overwhelming that I had to breathe through my mouth. Hyenas, marabou storks and vultures were each competing for scraps from the carcass of a young elephant. Ironically, smaller vultures perched in a dead tree awaiting their turn.

 

When a lioness was relocating her two cubs to a new den, the youngsters, barely a month-old, were reluctant to leave the safety of the thorn bush where they were hidden. With numerous soft grunts of encouragement from their mother, the cubs eventually followed her. After the grim spectacle of the elephant remains, it felt good to see new life.

 

The slope down to the Chobe River was dotted with ancient baobab trees, some scarred by elephants in search of the water-rich inner wood. Baobab fruit typically grows to a foot in length and contains chalky white seeds that are highly nutritious, with five times the vitamin C of an orange. Meandering across the verdant floodplain, the river attracted a variety of animals. Zebras, impalas and cape buffalo grazed on the fresh grass while baboons, mongooses, warthogs and jackals scoured the riverbanks for food.

 

The Okavango Delta is a vast alluvial fan in the Kalahari Desert. Summer rainfall in the Angola highlands surges down the Okavango River and floods low-lying areas during the winter months, doubling the size of the wetlands and transforming the delta into a wildlife haven. The number of predators in the Okavango Delta was testament to its rich animal population.

 

Our driver brought us close to a large pride of lionesses, juveniles and cubs lazing in the shade. Nearby, five big males with bulging bellies lounged under an acacia tree, one soundly asleep as he sprawled on his back, snoring gently. The full stomachs of the pride were evidence that the group was well fed.

 

After a female cheetah stashed her kill under a large bush, she and her two juvenile cubs quickly gorged on the young impala. Periodically, one of the cats raised its head and looked around nervously in anticipation of another predator stealing their kill. Having had her fill, the mother retreated further under the bush, laid on her side and panted heavily while the cubs continued to feed.

 

Deeper into the desert, a large pack of African wild dogs was spread out in small groups around a den, where pups would periodically appear near the entrance. The canine coats were a mix of brown, black, white and yellow. The dogs seemed as interested in watching us as we were of observing them. When a hunting party returned, they greeted one another in a lively, noisy and playful ritual of wagging tails, sniffing, licking and whining.

 

Driving back to camp after sundowners, we came across a pair of bat-eared foxes. As the name indicates, these foxes had unusually enormous ears in proportion to their head, like those of many bats. As the light faded, a young male leopard hidden behind a rock realized he had been spotted, then wandered off into the scrubland.

 

The Okavango Delta is managed by multiple groups, including its indigenous inhabitants. Far from civilization, our tented camp, Santawani, overlooked a waterhole. As a reminder that we were in the bush, elephants and other animals walked through the camp on their way to and from the waterhole, literally taking the path next to our tent. It was surprising how silently elephants moved and we were warned to look both ways before crossing the path. Good advice.

 

The inland delta is a series of waterways fed by the seasonal flooding. Our exploration of the delta’s channels was in a wooden dugout, a “mokoro,” piloted by a tribesman using a long pole. Reeds, grasses and water lilies grew in the shallow waters.

 

Lechwe, antelope common to the wetlands, expertly jumped from one island to another while young males tested each other’s fighting skills. Looking especially vulnerable, a giraffe awkwardly spread its front legs and lowered its neck for a drink of water. On the far side of the water was an enormous Nile monitor lizard basking in the midday sun.

 

After lunch was served under a large sycamore tree, we boarded our safari vehicle and crossed a narrow channel. Suddenly, impalas, lechwes and zebras raced alongside our vehicle, then stopped and looked back. It was apparent that a predator had alarmed the animals and sent them running.

 

Driving in the direction from which the animals ran, we spotted a large female leopard, the source of the group’s panic. Slurping water from the stream, she took little notice of us, eventually walking into a thicket and climbing a tree. With her body straddling a tree limb and legs dangling below, she nodded off. Barely visible through the leaves was the antelope she had stashed high in the tree.

 

The Santawani staff worked long days, often spending weeks at a time away from their families. Their friendliness and hospitality made it clear that they loved their jobs. Our last night in camp was a joyful celebration when the staff learned of their country's first ever Olympic gold medalist. A night to remember.

 

As we drove to the airstrip the next morning, our driver took a detour into the bush to follow a young male leopard on the prowl. Leopards are notoriously hard to find and seeing so many of these magnificent cats was a special treat. Once we boarded our small plane, there was one more surprise, the pilot had to wait for an impala herd to cross the hard-packed dirt runway before takeoff.

 

Named for the Cape of Good Hope, Cape Town, our final destination back in South Africa, stretches from the ocean to majestic Table Mountain. The famous highland is flanked by Lion's Head to the west and Devil's Peak to the east. The plateau's flat top and steep cliffs formed a dramatic backdrop to Cape Town.

 

Commonly referred to as “the Cape,” the Cape of Good Hope, in spite of its name, is home to hundreds of shipwrecks. Strong winds, powerful currents and rocky shoals produce treacherous waters off this headland. A popular misconception is that the Cape of Good Hope is the southern tip of Africa, but that distinction is held by little-known Cape Agulhas, and that is another story.

 

Our adventure took us to four countries, Zimbabwe, Zambia, Botswana and South Africa. An African safari is a magical experience, amid the incredible diversity of wildlife in their natural habitat. Each day was exhilarating. The sights, sounds and smells of the African bush will stay with me forever, along with my memories of the wonderful people I met during this incredible journey.