Lake Kariba
It is here, at Lake Kariba where, from land or water that one encounters the rawness, the beauty and the savagery which is the real heart of darkness.
Lake Kariba is unforgettable, on dust-tasting, hazy blue, September days, to watch the game treading its daily course to the edge of the lake's vast waters; or, in the rainy season when the air is crystal, when images are razor sharp, to watch the massive black blocks of wet-skinned elephant posing on the billiard-table flood plains carpeted with new green baize.
You will never forget the electric thrill of a racing reel as the line flies to the powerful pull of a fighting tiger fish; perhaps most unforgettable of all, watching the red sun sliding into dusky blackness as the earth turns beneath it into night whilst the dead trees that fill the Kariba lake and the blue-black mountains that slope down to its wooded shores, slowly merge with the blackness and are gone.
Most of all, of Kariba, you will remember the smells of Africa. The dust of the day, the moisture of the lake and, most evocative of all, the smell of advancing rain.