The No-Jeep Safari

Walking safaris offer a boots-on-the-ground experience-and spine-tingling adventures that would be impossible from a vehicle. 

- ALEXANDRA KIRKMAN

OUR GROUP of six chatted quietly as we strode across the dusty, sun-scorched terrain of Zambia's South Luangwa National Park early on a September morning, the dry season's unrelenting rays warm on our faces. Suddenly our guide, Alex Phiri, stopped and raised his hand, bringing his finger to his lips.

I followed his gaze. Some 100 yards straight ahead stood a 3,500-pound hippopotamus, staring squarely in our direction.

Phiri quickly ushered us behind a tree, where we cowered, our hearts beating fast-the only sound birdsong. The world's third-largest land mammal, the hippo is ferocious when it feels threatened, and can be more dangerous than notoriously fearsome animals such as lions.

This hippo swung its huge head to the right, then slowly back toward us-then repeated the motion several times, as if engrossed in an intense tennis rally. The park ranger accompanying us (standard procedure on any walking safari) slowly lifted his rifle, training it on the animal in case it decided to charge.

After one more lingering look our way, the hippo turned and lumbered off, away, and eventually out of sight. "Well, that was lucky," Phiri said, smiling wryly as we collectively exhaled. "He was either heading that way, or straight at us."

It's not an experience I would have had on a more traditional Jeep safari, in which the metal barrier of the vehicle and the ability to make a quick escape provide some separation from wild beasts. But such spine-tingling encounters are always a distinct possibility when traversing the bush on foot.