After popping the first pair of pills, I set off to Mfuwe - the town that is the gateway to the valley. Despite such a short distance this was another difficult journey - 75 miles that everybody said would take me at least 3 hours: only 30 miles and hour! The tarmac soon ran out and the road soon started to sprout miniature Grand Canyons. These were OK because you could see the coming. The killer bits were where it became flatter and I was able to get up into 3rd gear and build up a bit of speed - at least 40mph. But these bits hid deep trenches that could have been transferred directly from the Somme - but hidden because of the high angle of the sun. Bang crunch ouch! There were ½ mile stretches of tar over a couple of steep hills which otherwise would have been impassable in the wet season. Oases of calmness in the bouncing, rattling banging journey. With the distraction of trench spotting, the three hours, I soon entering the large Mfuwe village partly hidden in smoke from fires in the bush and arrive at Kafunta River Lodge just as the drums were sounded for brunch. What impeccable timing.

Kafunta sits on the edge of the River Luangua’s flood plain. Most of the year it overlooks the plain that is inevitably dotted with Hippo, Puku, Warthog, Elephant, Baboon, a myriad of birds and the occasional pride of Lions. However, when the river is in its annual flood the water laps at the edge of the dinning area which is 2-3 metres above the plain. The distant river and its plain dominates every part of this lodge whether you are soaking in the hot tub - fed by its own hot spring, propping up the bar, eating the nightly four course dinner on the staging with Hippos squelching below or sitting on your room’s own private balcony.

If you want you can escape from this oasis, twice a day and be driven into the Nation Park on the opposite bank of the river - after all this is why you came. The vehicles are venerable Toyota Land Cruisers with 2 or 3 tiers of seats in the back providing an excellent grandstand. You are driven by one of the lodge’s encyclopaedic guides who can tell you absolutely everything you’d want to know about the local ecosystem. From the gestation period of Elephants (22 months) to why bird droppings are often black & white (the white is concentrated urea as they don’t pee). To supplement this deep knowledge & love their surroundings, they have the sharpest eyes attuned to the bush - eyes of an eagle being able to spot the smallest most secretive animal from miles away or the species & gender of a bird circling as a dot in the sky. During the afternoon drives they are joined by a ‘spotter’ - often an aspiring guide: more of whom later.

The Luangua Nation Park is bounded on the West by a steep escarpment and on the East by the river - it is one of Africa’s premier national parks. If you look hard enough (and are lucky enough) you can see most of the animals you could ever want to see. It even has its own unique species of Giraffe (Thorneycrofts) and Zebra (Burchells). But its main claim to fame is the relative ease by which Leopard are seen but you still need luck and a good guide. In the eleven days before I arrived nobody, from any lodge, had seen one and there was a lot of speculation as to why.

The daily routine starts (if you want) with the wooden steps of you bungalow creaking at 0515 with one of the night watchmen giving their morning wake-up call. Hot drinks, cereals and hot muffins/toast are available on the dining deck prior to hitting the track by 0600 prompt. This early in the day can be a bit chilly, so thick blankets are provided in which you can mummify oneself. After 4½ hours bouncing around the gravel roads of the park watching the sociability of elephant families; the brutal fights of Zebra stallions; the hard stares of Buffalo and the turquoise flash of Lilac Breasted Rollers chasing insects, you return to the Lodge by about 1000 with 30 minutes to freshen up and/or collect your thoughts before Brunch.

Brunch is usually a cold buffet with a good selection and a dessert to follow. Having taken the edge off your appetite, there are a number of options: you can retire to your own bungalow to sleep in the cool with air wafting in through the open French windows; sit reading on your own balcony conversing with the odd Elephant as she trundles past browsing on the bushes; sunbathe by the pool - or any combination thereof. Rejuvenated, you meet up again at 1530 for afternoon tea and cakes before once again mounting the Land Cruiser again. Whilst the morning drive is punctuated with hot drinks & biscuits, the evening drive has it sundowners - both served on a dinky little cloth covered table in the middle of the bush.

After sundowners the whole atmosphere changes as night rapidly takes hold. All you can see is that illuminated by the headlights or the spotters’ powerful lamp as it sweeps backwards and forwards. It sweeps over the Puku and Impala looking very vulnerable in the middle of grassy areas, the grey bulk of an Elephant blithely continuing to browse and the lumbering Hippo leaving the river for a night’s grazing. With the enveloped by the black, sounds become much more acute: the squabbling of Baboons as they settle down for the night high in a tree; the whistle of a Puku or the bark of an Impala reflecting their nervous alarm; the worrying distant descending grunting call of a lion; the shrill trumpet of a surprised Elephant: the night is full of alarm and danger with few sleeping soundly.

As the spotlight metronomes it was from side to side, it is reflected by the eyes of the animals over which it flits - all that is often seen is a couple of pinpricks of light exposing something in the gloom. Often it’s ‘just’ a Puku looking nervously around and occasionally it’s a Genet scurrying through the undergrowth looking for an evening snack. However - the prize is the yellow glow of a predator’s eyes. There are the glowing eyes in the blackness and there is the pale form of a Leopard stalking through the bush or a Lion unconcernedly lying waiting for its meal to present itself.

We saw one such pale form 400 yards away across a grassy plain - just lying there at the end of the bush. As we bumped across the ground crater by Hippo feet in mud, she quietly slipped from view into cover. We caught a sight of here stalking as quiet as a ghost through the brittle crackling leaves and twigs strewn across the ground. Each footfall was lowly and carefully placed - as if in slow motion - causing no noise as she flowed through the bush. Her shoulder blades pistoning up & down through the skin on her back as crouched lower & lower to reduce her profile even further. We lost her for a while when she melted from sight but saw her a bit later several yards into the plain flattened into a shallow dish inching imperceptibly slowly towards a small group of Puku. With some sort of sixth sense - whilst not seeing her - they were aware that there was some unseen threat nearby and kept looking in her general direction. This, together with the brilliant glare of an African full moon, made her progress very slow - only a few inches at a time but only when she was sure that nobody was looking. The tension grew as her stalking continued - would this be my first ‘proper’ kill - up to now the only one I’d seen in many visits was a Jackal bounding on to a mouse in long grass. As luck would have it, another vehicle arrived and drove between the Leopard & her intended prey and everything scattered. So it was back home for dinner - no kill but a fascinating experience

People watching at the lodge is almost as fruitful as watching the wildlife. The proud parents out from Washington DC to visit their daughter who was teaching English (American?) to kinds in a Mozambican orphanage (whose second language in Portuguese); honeymoon couples; arrogant & antisocial Lusakan shopkeepers to try to impress their relatives from the US and families with kids wide-eyed at the Animal Planet coming to life before their eyes. The vast majority share the same interest and love if Africa and its wildlife and are, consequently, good company - swapping tales of adventures and sightings from around the continent. Like stories of sailing, they often grow in the telling.

All too soon the end of my five night booking at Kafunta approached and I’d six days before I had to be in Lilongwe to meet my friend Pat flying in from Switzerland. During my stay I’d heard a number of people extolling the joys Kafunta’s River Bush Camp in the Southern part of the Park. I had a choice of whizzing around bits of Malawi or taking up Anke’s offer for three nights at a discount rate.