Deep in the heart of the untouched Luangwa River valley (the spectacular enclave that is Zambia’s prime safari destination), our 10-year-old son watched as a family of elephants josrapt as a family of elephants jostled lovingly at a watering hole. A herd of zebras grazed on the banks of the breathtaking ribbon of water, and two impalas slammed antlers under a brilliant blue sky.

Scary? No, just another picture-perfect memory from the family vacation of a lifetime.

"It’s really magic when you’re out here, just you and the animals," said Manda Chisanga, a guide with the Bushcamp Company in South Luangwa National Park, where we were trekking. "You just have to feel it for yourself." Much the same could be said about Zambia itself, home to some of the last unspoiled areas in Africa and a half century-old tradition of nature-friendly walking safaris.

The landlocked southern African nation is bordered by eight countries and boasts a natural wonder of the world in Victoria Falls, as well as the mighty Zambezi River and half a dozen spectacular national parks.

But could it keep a New York kid happy for two weeks? The answer was an unequivocal yes, even without a TV or video game in sight.

Our son floated down the  Zambezi River just a few feet away from crocodiles basking in the sun. He learned to track leopards through the savannah, and ate three civilized meals a day, plus tea. He even watched his parents jump off a cliff into a 400-foot-deep gorge.

For a host of reasons, most Americans never consider taking a family vacation to Africa. It’s too far away. Too expensive. Too dangerous. Too many shots.

Our trip debunked many of those myths.

Yes, Zambia is remote — we traveled almost 24 hours door to door. And we did have to take malaria pills and a couple of booster vaccinations. But it is a stable and peaceful, if poor, country. And because of the chaos and political repression of neighboring Zimbabwe, Zambia’s tourism business is undergoing a major boom as visitors seek an alternative.

The sound of branches crunching outside woke us before dawn on our fi rst night in South Luangwa at the Mfuwe Lodge, our starting point. It was an elephant cheekily stripping the branches off a tree right outside the window of our wood-paneled chalet. Wild animals are everywhere in the South Luang-wa — stroll from the reception area to your room and you might have to dodge scampering monkeys. Drive through the dirt road and your vehicle may be stopped by a herd of nearly 1,000 giant buffaloes.

The park’s goal is to get visitors as close to nature as possible, and the best way to do that is on foot. Every morning, we set out with a guide and a scout to explore the reed-choked lagoons, watering holes and baked-dry stream beds alongside the gorgeous, meandering river.

For a kid, each walk doubles as the world’s most exciting science lesson, with real-life exhibits unfolding beneath every Natal mahogany tree and circling vulture. Why do elephants rub up against some trees and not others? How can termites keep their giant mounds growing for a century? Why do male impalas travel in herds of "losers" with no females?

We got all the answers and more during two wondrous days and nights at Bilimungwe, a tiny four-chalet bush camp on the banks of the Luangwa River, surrounded by 10 miles of solitude. Beneath the glorious canopy of a reed-thatched roof, we sipped cold Mosi lager beers and watched a parade of animals traipse toward the watering hole a few yards away. Afterward, the camp cook, armed only with an ancient cast-iron wood-burning stove, produced a gourmet dinner of asparagus-and-leek tart, cornmeal cakes and T-bone steaks.

If tramping through the Luangwa bush is a sure ticket to African nirvana, a canoe safari on the Zambezi River is a close second. Gliding down the gentle stream in Lower Zambezi National Park, we looked crocodiles in the eye from just a few feet away and spied a rare Sa-mango monkey frolicking on Bob Marley trees, named for their dreadlock-like limbs.

It’s one thing to gaze at the lovely Zambezi from the shore or ride down it in a boat. It’s quite another to cruise at water level, plunging through reed-choked channels in total solitude and seeing lions and buffalo peer back at you from the sandy banks. Five minutes after pushing off from Mwambashi River Lodge (a property in Lower Zambezi made up of East African-style safari tents built on raised wooden platforms that house 16 guests), we saw the first of a dozen or more pods — that’s hippo-speak for herds — lazing in the water and defending their turf from slimy interlopers.

"Good day," our guide Roddy Smith said to them, doffing his "Crocodile Dundee"-vintage hat as we floated past the snorting gang. Smith knows every bend and curve in this stretch of river running through the park, which was once a forgotten wilderness. Next, on our way south to Victoria Falls, we stopped at Chaminuka Lodge, the largest private game reserve in the country. Just a half hour outside the capital of Lusaka, Chaminuka sprawls over 10,000 acres of wondrous grassland in what was once the private home of one of Zambia’s wealthiest families. Giant stone sculptures and bright African folk art fill the airy insakas, or common rooms, which overlook a shimmering lake surrounded by impala.

Guests get an authentic African welcome, complete with a traditional band. "People are looking for a one-of-a-kind cultural experience when they visit Africa," says manager Stelios Sardanis. "They want something to remember."

Zambia’s unquestioned treasure is the awe-inspiring waterfall Mosioa-Tunya, which means "the smoke that thunders" in the local Tonga language. The rest of the world knows it as Victoria Falls, a 110-yard sheer drop that has astonished tourists since explorer David Livingstone stumbled onto it 149 years ago.

Until recently, most tourists visited the falls on the Zimbabwe side (it straddles the two nations the way Niagara does the U.S. and Canada). But the devastation that Zimbabwe’s President Robert Mugabe has unleashed on his own people dramatically reversed the balance — and sent tourists flooding into Zambia.

Both sides of the falls were once the kind of place where British retirees would sip gin and tonics. Today, it’s one of the world’s top youth-oriented adventure travel destinations, offering whitewater rafting, surf-style river boarding and flights over the roaring falls in flimsy open-air planes.

We stayed at Thorntree, an African-style collection of wooden chalets, each with a balcony right on the Zambezi River a few miles upstream from Victoria Falls. Drinks and dinner arrive on a spectacular deck where hippos fl oat past and the sun sets over the broad river we’d soon be rafting on.

"Forward, forward, row!" barked our muscled guide as our raft rushed into the fi rst whitewater rapids below the falls. The rubber boat leaped 20 feet in the air, then plunged just as fast into the depths of a rapid nicknamed the Toilet Bowl. We clung for dear life as the raft plowed on through grade 5 — as in on a scale of 1 to 5 — rapids with names like Terminator and Devil’s Washbowl.

The heart stopping raft ride was nothing compared to the Zambezi Swing, on which plunge junkies can rappel down sheer rockface or fly headfirst across the 400-foot-deep Batoka Gorge. Such brave souls do so attached to a harness and cable, but that hardly takes away from the amazing rush — not to mention blood-curdling fear — that comes with the jump. The best — or worst — is the bungee-style free fall drop that seems to last an eternity.

"You okay, dad?" my son shouted as I swung in the spectacular canyon.

"I hope so!" I yelled back, savoring one of Zambia’s amazing 360-degree spectacles. "I’m still here."

DAVE GOLDINER
New York Daily News

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