A trip to South Luangwa contributed self-confessed city slicker Keith Tamkei of the value of nature

'I'm a good shot, first in my class every time." Crouching low, straining to keep what now felt like a traffic cone of a backpack below the grass line, those self-assured words of our animal tracker, Matthews Banda, helped ease my nerves. That, and replaying the pre-walk "in the event of ..." instructions in my head, helped me gain some composure as our guided party of three, porter in tow, tracked a pride of lions under an early-morning sun.

I've seen lion before, holding up traffic as they languished on a warm tarred road; splayed celebrities on a charcoal carpet as we, the paparazzi, high in the safety of our specially rigged safari cruisers, clicked and flashed away. But now I was on the ground, almost on all fours like an oblivious Puku antelope, and they were close. According to our guide the low muffled grunts meant that they were communicating - probably musing how easy breakfast would be.

But after some tactical manoeuvring, checking the wind and more crouching, a lone female was spotted lying in the shadows of a bush, ears forward (indicating a relaxed posture) a mere 50m away, with just a carpet of tanned winter grass between us. For minutes we stared, speaking in excited hushes before she rose and led two previously unnoticed, but equally large, lionesses into the dense foliage.

I am a true city slicker, with an educational diet of the "bush" starched largely on David Attenborough and National Geographic. So this extraordinary event began with a slightly naive acceptance to visit Sanctuary's Zebra Plains camp in the South Luangwa National Park. But it would ultimately be an invaluable tuition, and seed a burgeoning wildlife curiosity.

In the '60s renowned nature conservationist Norman Carr introduced wilderness trails, now known as walking safaris, to the eastern side of then Northern Rhodesia in the Luangwa Rift Valley.

Described by Carr as "the enchanted valley" the South Luangwa National Park, formally established in 1972, is bordered on the west by the Muchinga escarpment that runs the full length of the valley from north to south, and slopes down to the Luangwa River that straddles the park's eastern border.

Covering 9050km², it is the largest of Zambia's 19 national parks. The winding Luangwa River, a major tributary of the Zambezi, is characterised by ox bows and lagoons, a gathering point for wildlife, especially hippo and crocodile. Heavy seasonal rains, fertile volcanic soil, the escarpment's natural barrier and the river have created an ecological haven equal to Masai Maara, Chobe, and Serengeti.

A two-hour flight from Johannesburg to Lusaka and another 60-minute flip to the northeast had us at Mfuwe International Airport. The cold Mosi beers kept on ice by our driver seemed the perfect companion to the warm Central African winter and deep aromas of potato bush as we began our two-hour transfer on rugged road and pontoon to the overnight stop at Sanctuary Chichele Presidential Lodge.

Originally built for former Zambian president Kenneth Kaunda in the '70s, the lodge has been fully converted to luxury accommodation, boasting 10 massive en-suite rooms. I was thankful for the hearty meal, a hot soak and thick comfortable mattress.

The next morning we boarded our transfer vehicle and met guide Garth Hovell for the four-hour trek to Sanctuary Zebra Plains. A private concert with squeak sensation Justin Bieber, appeals more to me than the prospect of any four-hour trip, but, thankfully, Hovell's enlightening commentary of every plant and animal en-route, compressed the length of the ride.

Maintaining the balance of this finely sensitive ecological system, according to Hovell, is a priority, so we walked the final 800m. This keeps the camp's immediate surrounds intact, and reinforces its remoteness. Zebra Plains is a temporary camp. Every year equipment and supplies are brought in on foot, sometimes from up to a kilometre away, depending on the river. Once the dry season ends in October the camp is packed up and no trace is left.

Negotiating a narrow path through the bush, we eventually reached the banks of the Nanda River, an offshoot of the Luangwa, and were greeted by the bellowing of wallowing hippos. This area has one of the highest concentrations of hippo on the planet - at least 50 creatures for every kilometre of the Luangwa River. Considered one of most dangerous animals, they usually leave the water at dusk and can walk up to 8km to graze. For this reason visitors are confined to their tents at nightfall. Stirring from my slumbers later that night and hearing a hippo grazing and grinding its teeth just a few paces from my tent, made me appreciate the rule.

Luxury at Zebra Plains is uncompromising - four large, double en-suite tents, with charming, hardwood furniture. Hot showers are provided and every indulgence is available. Food is a primary concern and provides the essential calories, and more, for the long walks. The day starts with a mini breakfast (tea and a bite) before breakfast; a three-course lunch; afternoon tea, usually accompanied by delectable, freshly baked pastries from the kitchen's oven (a hole in the sand); cocktails, dinner and dessert.

Carr apparently said at the onset of his exploration of Rhodesia that: "You don't really know a country unless you've walked it." His obituary in the UK's Independent newspaper adds that with a pack of teabags and quinine, Carr would head off on treks lasting several months, living off the land. Today's walking safaris based on this approach are a tactile way of experiencing South Luangwa. I got to hear the Puku's scream and the whirring of a spider-hunting wasp. I witnessed the fish eagles head-bending squeal, and the response of the pearl-spotted owl to Garth's mimicked call hoot.

I also saw some of the area' s endemic species: Crawshay's Zebra, with its solid break between the stripes, and Cookson's wildebeest, identifiable from the Cape version by its coat's pink hue.

Crouching 50m from a lion may seem far when considering the closer encounters possible from a viewing vehicle, but according to Hovell it's about respect.

"Respecting animals and their boundaries is what makes a good guide, not just getting a great sighting." So is balance, and I pondered Hovell's and Banda's task of balancing tourist dollars with commercialism. While I don't have the answers, what I do know is that, having been to South Luangwa, balance is necessary.

- Tamkei was a guest of Sanctuary Retreats