In Lower Zambezi National Park, in Zambia, the animals are met at water level: 4,092 unfenced square kilometres running from the river up over a floodplain of winterthorn and mahogany to the wall of the escarpment behind. Across the water lies Zimbabwe's Mana Pools, so the herds treat the whole valley as one and wade the shallows between two countries. Four of the Big Five are here: rhino were poached out of this valley decades ago and never brought back. From June to October the bush inland goes bare and everything crowds the green strip along the river. On a drive over the floodplain the resident lion prides lie out in the shade, often within sight of the herds they hunt, while great bulls strip bark in the riverine woodland beyond. Because the valley is unfenced and remote, the rules are looser than in most reserves, and after dark a guide works a spotlight along the forest for the eyeshine of leopard, civet and genet.
The canoe is what people come for. With a guide steering from the stern you push into the narrow channels that thread between the reed islands, sitting low and level with the bank. There is no engine, so nothing announces you; you move at the speed of your own paddle, and the line the guide holds keeps the hull clear of the deep hippo pools. A walk with an armed ranger does the same thing on land, at the pace of tracks and dung and birdcall. The river is also one of the great tigerfish waters, a fast, sharp-toothed fish taken on catch-and-release while the water is low and warm, and from September carmine bee-eaters riddle the sandy banks with nesting holes. The elephants here are famously untroubled by boats. A herd crossing to an island wades past the canoe at eye level, and from that seat you can hear them tearing the grass.