With our VIP vegetables delivered, our lodge quirks survived, and the pimp mobile safely parked at the Kafue gate (keys staying with us — for reasons previously discussed), we were finally ready to shift from urban chaos to true safari mode.

The moment we climbed into the safari vehicle, it felt like the universe finally realised what kind of trip we had signed up for. One minute we were replaying memories of markets, detours, and optimistic Google Maps lies… and the next?
Bush. Beautiful, glorious bush.

It was as if someone had replaced the soundtrack in our heads with a calming nature playlist titled “You Made It.”

Gone were the taxis, vendors, and roadside surprises. In their place: golden light filtering through trees, birds calling their evening announcements, and that distinct safari scent that’s equal parts dust, sunshine, and promise.

Our guides, still in “polished and professional” first‑day mode, narrated every animal, track, and suspiciously motionless object with intense enthusiasm. Their bird identifications were especially entertaining.
“That’s a Fish Eagle,” one declared about a bird that was… not.
We nodded politely. No need to unleash the full extent of our birding credentials on day one. The Snake Eagle vs Fish Eagle Masterclass could wait.

As the sun began to paint everything gold, the vehicle slowed beside a quiet riverbank.
No bridge.
No sign.
Just the Kafue River shimmering like it had been waiting for us personally.

“This is where we cross,” they said.

Naturally.

The safari vehicle stayed behind, parked neatly like it was taking a brief moment to reflect on its life choices. Meanwhile, our luggage was handed down and loaded onto the boat with the kind of calm confidence that suggested this was a perfectly normal, everyday thing — which, apparently, it was.

We stepped onto the boat, settled in, and drifted across the river. Hippos grunted nearby like retired opera singers sizing up the newcomers. The sky softened into sunset colours, and for a moment we forgot every bump, detour, and vegetable-themed plot twist that had brought us here.

Then, on the opposite bank, we saw it.

Our lodge.

Nestled among trees, glowing in the last light of the day, looking exactly like the kind of place you’d run away to in a movie montage.

Remote. Quiet. Beautiful.

The kind of place where time slows down, where the loudest neighbour is a hippo with strong opinions, and where the next seven days promised — finally — the safari we’d been dreaming of. No markets. No detours. No deliveries. Just pure, wild serenity.

At long last, the real safari had begun.