In the Heart of the Zambezi
Have you ever slept on a private island in the middle of a river? I had not, until this trip. We arrived in Livingstone and were met with the warmest welcome, followed by a short drive to the jetty and boat ride across the Zambezi.
That is when it hit me: this was not going to be just any trip.
There is something profoundly humbling about stepping barefoot onto soft, sun-warmed river sand, knowing it’s been shaped over thousands of years by the powerful current flowing around you. The island feels like a dream, it’s raw and refined at once. There are just a handful of open-air chalets, no doors, no distractions, only the gentle rustle of reeds and the occasional hippo grumble echoing through the night. It’s not flashy luxury, it’s soulful, intentional, stripped down in the best possible way.
One afternoon, I stretched out in a hammock, a chilled glass of rosé in hand, when I caught the scent of rain. You know that earthy, electric smell before a storm? That. A quick thunderstorm rolled through, a dramatic curtain of grey sweeping across the river, offering a welcome burst of freshness in the afternoon heat. I didn’t move, I just lay there, watching, feeling part of the rhythm of the place. Boat rides brought us alongside elephants cooling off in the river, spraying water into the air like oversized kids in a pool.
The Roar, the Sky, and the Silence
And a short drive away, we found ourselves face-to-face with the thundering majesty of the Victoria Falls. It’s wild, loud and almost hypnotic. There is the option to visit the island right at the lip of the falls. Thrilling. And if you really want to grasp the scale of it all, take to the skies. A helicopter flight over the falls left me speechless. It’s something you carry with you long after you’ve landed. Returning to the island felt like coming home with a massage waiting for me, dinner set beneath a canopy of stars and not a single note of artificial music. None was needed. The sounds of Africa surrounded us, alive and real.
Cocoons Above the Plains
From the river, our journey took us north. After a short drive to Livingstone Airport a small plane carried us over landscapes that seemed to stretch forever, until we descended into the remote, untamed plains of Busanga. This place - wow. It feels like the earth has exhaled here. Wide, open grasslands stretch to the horizon, broken only by distant fig trees and wandering herds of antelope. The light here is soft in the mornings, golden in the evenings and somehow everything feels more real.
And the sleep setup? It’s something else. Elevated wooden “nests,” inspired by the sociable weaver bird, sit like modern treehouses above the floodplains. You climb into your own cocoon! Minimal, beautiful, just the essentials and feel the wind sweep across the plains as you fall asleep. It’s adventure-meets-chic in a way I’ve never experienced. Busanga isn’t about flashy luxury. It’s about wild rhythm. Coffee at sunrise, sipped from the hood of the safari vehicle as the mist rises around you. Wildlife is everywhere, soft-footed leopards, curious jackals, great herds grazing peacefully. This is a landscape that changes with the light and demands nothing but your attention.
When the Wild Comes Close
For the final chapter of your route, we headed back to Livingstone, followed by a drive crossing the border into Botswana and catching a light aircraft deep into the Okavango Delta. Flying over it, the mosaic of channels and palms and waterlogged paths below is like nature’s own artwork. And then, just like that, you land on a small airstrip surrounded by wild.
Our camp here was a marvel of design, modern but completely in harmony with the environment. Think private plunge pools, vast decks overlooking floodplains and service so intuitive it feels like magic. I lost track of time watching red lechwe leap through channels while I sipped my early morning coffee in a robe. The Delta gives and gives. Not just sightings, but moments. One afternoon, we heard a low growl. A lion. Minutes later, we were parked in complete stillness, watching a pride with young cubs putting on a show - chasing tails, wrestling, tumbling over each other. No rush. Just time, space, presence. Evenings here were pure indulgence. Premium drinks, open fire, exceptional food and then a hyena wandering nonchalantly through the camp like it belonged (it probably did) and a Pel’s fishing owl looking down on us.
That’s the magic of this place: it’s remote, raw, yet never feels uncomfortable. It stretches something in you. Gently.
What Remains
This journey? It’s the kind that shifts something in you. From the soothing pulse of the river, to the raw freedom of the plains, to the luxurious heartbeat of the Delta. This journey wasn’t just a holiday. It was a deep breath for the soul, a reconnection to something pure and wild. It gives you something to carry forward, long after you have left.
Some journeys are meant to find you
I would love to help you experience it for yourself. Reach out to me.
