We encountered the elephant while on a game drive yesterday, just a few kilometres from our camp. The elephant charged at a pride of lions that were devouring a baby buffalo. Far from standing their ground, fighting, roaring, baring their teeth or doing other brave, leonine things, all five big cats turned tail and fled. In South Luangwa National Park, it seems, the elephant is the king of the beasts.

Tholex, who is trained to anticipate potentially dangerous situations, swings his binoculars towards something moving in the distance: three more elephants plodding along the dry river bed. 'Let's just wait and see what they do next,' he says quietly.

On a typical African safari, visitors view wildlife from an open-top or open-sided vehicle. There are only a few places on the continent where it's possible to experience a walk in the bush - and the extra shot of adrenaline that that produces - and Zambian guides are trained and licensed to lead such safaris.

Fortunately, the elephants by the river bed decide to mind their own business.

We hike single file into the riverine forest, where Tholex points out trees such as mopane, winterthorn, leadwood, baobab, ebony and vegetable ivory palms. He identifies hippopotamus, elephant and hyena droppings; and gathers feathers, rocks and snail shells. Pukus - grassland antelope - and impalas scatter nervously when they see us coming. One of the group finds a puku horn, which Tholex says belonged to a 17-year-old animal.

The most unusual sighting is of a pack of wild dogs with grey and brown markings on their coats.

Ahead, a massive hippopotamus is wallowing in a stream. Startled by the crackling of dry twigs beneath our feet, it rockets out of the water and disappears into the undergrowth on the other side of the river. Hippos are everywhere. We see rafts of them in the water during the day (about 48 hippopotamus inhabit each kilometre of water along the Luangwa River) and a few individuals running nimbly across the plains at night, like ballerinas.

Tension flares in the group when, pointing towards a herd of buffalo in the distance, Tholex warns us not to make sudden moves.

'Whatever happens, we all stay together,' he says.

A few days ago the guide narrowly escaped a goring by a wounded buffalo. He was able to leap into his vehicle just in time. There must be at least 50 of them here today and there is no vehicle close by. Six people on foot couldn't survive a stampede.

The buffalo peer curiously at the intruding humans, their enormous horns glistening under the sun. At any other time, I would have gushed about the magnificence of their horns but, right now, my mouth is dry from fear.

Tholex waves us forward. We have no choice but to follow. We get close enough to see the whites of their eyes, then the wind changes, the buffalo catch a whiff of our scent and run - in the other direction.

Back in the security and comfort of my tent at Puku Ridge Lodge, I soak in a warm bath while idly watching baboons and puku forage on the flood plains below. The tent is enormous, with a large private outdoor deck and a king-sized bed swathed in mosquito netting. The polished cement floors are industrial-chic and would look just as at home in a contemporary loft apartment. There's a red rattan designer chair, a writing desk with large timber puku ornaments and comfortable cushioned lounge chairs. The en-suite bathroom has both indoor and outdoor showers. And there are lots of little luxuries, such as a ceiling fan, a hairdryer, aromatherapy toiletries, bath salts and a daily laundry service.

Meals are taken, communal style, in the main lodge. The camp's grounds are not fenced and the wildlife is free to wander into and around it. A camp guard accompanies guests to their tent each evening - and with good reason; just a few nights ago a lion chased and killed a puku along the pathway between my tent and the lodge.

A typical day involves an early morning walking safari or game drive, lunch at camp while the animals are resting, then afternoon tea followed by another game drive, which may continue through the night with the use of spotlights. And then there are the sundowners: stops on an escarpment to watch the sun setting over the river.

The fiery orange sunsets are a few shades brighter than the bloody marys we are served.