By the time the little plane lifted off from Lusaka and the city dropped away beneath us, I knew I was heading somewhere special. The suburbs gave way to open country, then to a patchwork of rivers and woodland. From up there Zambia looks endless: a sweep of green and brown, braided with water, hardly a road in sight. It is the first hint of what makes this country so remarkable: the space, the wildness and the sense that nature still calls the shots.

Exploring South Luangwa National Park

We landed in Mfuwe on the edge of South Luangwa National Park in the soft light of late afternoon. The air was warm, filled with that slightly dusty, sun-baked smell that always makes me feel instantly calmer. On the drive to our lodge we saw giraffe, impala and a huge herd of buffalo, all before I had even checked in. It sounds like brochure-speak, but South Luangwa really is one of Africa’s most game rich reserves. The Luangwa River curves and twists through the park, pulling in animals like a magnet.

My base was a luxury lodge on the river’s edge. I walked into my suite and straight out again, drawn to the view: hippos bobbing in the shallows, a line of elephants crossing at a bend, fish eagles calling overhead. Inside, it was all cool linen, wide beds and a plunge pool just for me. That contrast is one of the joys of Zambia: you spend your days in raw, untamed wilderness, then return to impeccable comfort and the friendliest, most attentive staff you could wish for.

The next morning we did what South Luangwa does best: we walked. This is the birthplace of the walking safari and you can feel that depth of experience in every guide. We set off in the golden light, a guide in front and a scout behind, and within minutes I noticed how different the bush feels on foot. Sounds are sharper, smells more vivid, your senses literally come alive. We stopped to examine lion tracks still soft at the edges, tasted wild fruits, listened to the alarm snorts of impala and tried to interpret what the bush was whispering to us. At one point we stood, completely silent, watching a bull elephant feed peacefully across the river. No vehicle, no engine, just heartbeats and birdsong.

Game drives here are equally rewarding. South Luangwa is renowned for leopard, and on our first evening we watched one draped along a branch like liquid gold, tail flicking lazily, while the sky turned pink behind her. After dark, the stars came out in impossible numbers and the spotlight picked up genets, civets and another leopard melting out of the shadows, all going about their secret lives.

Lower Zambezi National Park

From South Luangwa we flew south to the Lower Zambezi National Park, and the landscape shifted again. Here the Zambezi River takes centre stage, wide and gleaming, scattered with islands and sandbanks. Our camp sat right on the water, colonial in style, all wide verandas, soft chairs and a view that changed by the minute as elephants came and went.

Safaris here happen on both land and water, which creates a lovely rhythm to the days. One morning we glided down a side channel in canoes, paddling quietly past pods of hippo while a breeding herd of elephants fed along the bank. In the afternoons we bumped across the floodplains in an open vehicle, stopping to watch lions lazing in the shade or to enjoy a drink as the sun sank behind the escarpment. I loved the variety: drifting, driving, walking and always returning to that sense of space and silence that is so hard to find in modern life.

Livingstone and Victoria Falls

Our final stop was Livingstone, on the Zambian side of Victoria Falls. After days in remote wilderness, arriving at a river lodge with manicured lawns and clinking glasses felt almost surreal, but the Zambezi was still there, sliding past with that same calm power. From here it is a short journey to the viewpoints of the falls. Nothing quite prepares you for your first sight of Mosi-oa-Tunya, “the smoke that thunders”: the roar, the curtain of water, the spray rising like its own weather system. We walked the rainforest trail, getting delightfully soaked, and then saw it all again from the air on a short helicopter flight, the river carving its way through the gorge like a silver ribbon.

What struck me most throughout this journey was how unspoilt Zambia still feels. There are no crowds at sightings, no queues of vehicles jostling for position. Often it was just us, our guide and whatever the bush chose to reveal. At the same time, the level of comfort and care in the lodges was exceptional: thoughtful touches in the rooms, extraordinary food in the most unlikely settings and staff who radiated genuine warmth and pride in their country.

Zambia is not about ticking off a list of animals as quickly as possible. It is about slowing down enough to really watch, to listen, to feel part of a landscape that is still wonderfully wild. If you are drawn to safaris that are rich in experience, full of variety and wrapped in quiet, understated luxury, it is a destination that will get under your skin. It certainly has under mine.