Humbling Steps: Walking as Equals Among Mana Pools’ Wildlife

David skipped the vehicle to explore on foot during his Zimbabwe adventure, during which he realised that a Mana Pools walking safari isn’t about seeing as much as possible but about sinking into the experience. 

This is his story of trading the comfort of the spectator for the humility of the participant – a transformation that only happens when you’re willing to walk.

We spent a week on the Zambezi, a landscape defined by wide, open stretches of water and the soft curve of riverbanks lined with acacia and Natal mahogany trees.

Elephants moved across the islands, reeds shook in the breeze, and at night the sounds of hyenas and hippos carried across the water. Some nights we slept out on one of the river’s islands, the fire slowly fading as the night sky opened above us.

A Quiet Mana Pools Revelation

One afternoon, while sitting on the bank with the Zimbabwe shoreline tapering into the distance, a brief rainstorm came through. When it passed, moisture clung beneath the acacias, lifting that earthy scent you only get after rain in places this dry.

And then the blue lights appeared, a bluish glow hanging beneath the canopy. As the sun and clouds shifted, the hues changed with them, and for a few moments we could faintly see elephants moving through the haze like something from a children’s story.

It was truly an unexpected and spectacular sight. It felt as though Mana Pools was revealing something quiet and rare, a moment you only witness when you’re still enough to notice.

But as special as these moments were, the part of the trip that will stay with me longest was the time we spent on foot during our Mana Pools walking safari.

Exploring on Foot

Each day, guided by Pete, we set out from the riverbank and walked deep into the park, roughly three hours at a time. This is the hallmark of the best Zimbabwe safari trips: the ability to leave the vehicle behind.

The ground there is dry and bare, shaped by years of elephants and low river levels that no longer flood the way they once did. With so little undergrowth, you can see far into the distance – animals, trees, the shifting light, everything open and visible. The acacia trees tell their own stories in their bark and shapes, worn by weather and animals over time.

Moving on foot changed how we experienced Mana Pools. Our pace slowed, and with it, our awareness. You notice the small things: the angles of branches, the intricate patterns of wear and protective growth on each tree’s trunk, every one of them unique.

You notice the rhythm of elephants moving beneath the trees, the feeling of dust shifting under your shoes. Every step makes you more conscious of your presence there. You listen differently. You look differently. You feel differently.

The humility of it settles in quietly. Out here, you’re not elevated above anything. You’re just another animal moving through their world, sensing, adjusting, paying attention.

We stopped at a hippo skeleton, something you’d likely pass quickly from a vehicle, but on foot, you pause. You take it in. You understand it in a different way. That grounded feeling shaped every part of these walks.

An Encounter with the Pride

Two moments in particular will stay with me forever.

The first was when we tracked down a group of three lionesses known to move through the area. We eventually found them resting in the heat of the day. Pete guided us with deliberate calm, shifting how we moved so that we became a single, quiet unit.

After checking the surroundings and making sure he understood their mood, we moved in a wide arc and settled behind a fallen tree about fifty metres away. They looked at us briefly, relaxed, and rested again. We sat in silence, just being in the moment.

I edged forward slightly in front of the tree, lying on the ground to take a low-angle photograph. Not far beyond them, a lone elephant walked past, framed by the acacias. The whole moment felt unhurried, honest, and deeply special.

As we eventually made our way back, I glanced back over a small rise as we stepped down into a dry, small riverbed. One of the lionesses lifted her head and looked at me for a moment. Then we each continued on in our own direction. A quiet, shared acknowledgement, nothing more.

Five Metres from True Humility

The second moment during our Mana Pools walking safari humbled me in a way I’ve never felt before. We were walking among families of elephants when we saw a lone bull feeding on an acacia. We positioned ourselves behind a fallen tree to watch him.

After a few minutes, he noticed us and began walking in our direction, not aggressively, just curiously. Pete quietly asked the group to backtrack to a tree behind us. Being right next to him, I didn’t see him gesture. I stayed near him, assuming he meant the fallen log where we were standing.

The elephant continued coming closer, slow and steady. Pete spoke to him gently, his tone calm and reassuring. Standing shoulder to shoulder with him, I felt both the adrenaline and a sense of clarity. The bull came to within five metres of us and stopped.

We stood there, looking at him, and he looked at us. There was no threat in him. No agitation. Just a large, powerful animal trying to understand what we were. It was a reminder that true luxury safaris in Zimbabwe are not always defined by the thread count of the sheets, but by the real, unscripted moments of connection with the wild.

Finding My Place in the Wild

In that moment, I felt small in a way that made sense. Not insignificant, just placed correctly. It brought together pieces of who I am now, shaped by years of resilience and strength, with the absolute wonder I once carried as a child.

A sense of myself stripped of noise. A reminder of what it means to be present, patient, and alert without fear controlling the moment.

After a while, the bull turned and walked off. He followed us at a distance as we slowly backed away from tree to tree until he lost interest and returned to feeding from a tall acacia.

These two moments, and the countless quiet steps between them, are what made Mana Pools so unforgettable. Walking there taught me humility in a way I didn’t expect. It renewed my sense of wonder for the land, the trees shaped by time and weather, and the animals who live lives far more textured and intentional than we often realise.

When the rains came again the next day, rather than running for cover in the boat, I found myself standing out on the shallow bank on which we were parked, letting it fall across my face and run down my body.

It felt grounding, as if the rain was washing away the last layers of hurry and habit I’d brought with me. For a few minutes, I wasn’t trying to avoid or control the world. I was simply part of it.

We left feeling grateful, changed in a quiet way, and aware of the privilege it was to walk through that landscape not as spectators, but as temporary equals.

If you’re ready to trade the vehicle for the trail and experience the profound humility of a Mana Pools walking safari, our team is here to guide the way. Your Zimbabwean safari is designed around your own sense of adventure. Start planning your African chapter with our safari experts.