On Monday morning, we were up bright and early, ready to hit the road to Livingstone, Zambia—just across the border from Victoria Falls, Zimbabwe.

We flew directly from Livingstone to Kafue National Park, landing on what can only be described as a glorified dirt strip. Before our planes could touch down, the jeep drivers had to radio the pilots to confirm the runway was clear—of animals.

We didn’t land until nearly 4 p.m., but there was no time to waste—we jumped straight into a game drive on our way to camp, turning our transfer into a mini safari.

The highlight of our drive to Musanza Camp revolved around the age-old question: Why did the leopard cross the road? As we approached, he casually stepped into the grass just off the road, gave us a long, unimpressed stare, yawned like we’d interrupted his nap, and sauntered off.

This region is known for its tse-tse flies. We were warned ahead of time to avoid wearing blue or black, apparently the tse-tse color palette of choice. The camp also took preventative measures.

Thankfully, during the dry season, flies and other insects weren’t much of a bother.

On Tuesday morning, we set out on a six-hour game drive to a vast savannah that looked suspiciously like a gigantic pasture in South Dakota—if South Dakota were crawling with wildebeests, hippos, and thousands of impala, puku, and lechwe. Same open space, slightly more exciting livestock.

I forgot to mention one small detail: this pasture occasionally comes with lions.

One animal I didn’t get a photo of—and I’m oddly okay with that—was a black mamba. In the morning, we saw its tracks: a three-inch-wide S-shape slithering across the road. On our return to camp, the snake itself made an appearance—over 10 feet long and rising six feet straight up. We didn’t stop for a photo. Something about the whole “dead in 30 minutes if it bites you” thing really kills the vibe.

Tomorrow we leave for Botswana.

Hakuna matata.

Just Pete