Mana Pools: The Lions Were Closer Than We Knew

Mana Pools, October 2024

It was the last morning of our tour in Mana Pools.
A quiet one. We’d already had an incredible trip—lions, standing elephants, magical light. Honestly, the kind of sightings that fill portfolios and memories alike. But this morning felt different. Not in a good or bad way, just… done.

The air was still. Hours passed without much happening. We drove loops through familiar tracks, scanning the savanna, the riverbanks. Nothing.

Eventually, we gave up the hunt. We decided to stop by the riverbed one last time, shoot some birds, soak in the silence before heading back to the bush airstrip and flying out.

The moment we parked, I was out of the Land Cruiser—camera in hand, as always. The group followed, trickling out behind me as we started walking the narrow trail down to the river. We’d been here before during the week. It felt familiar. Safe. Just keep an eye out for the crocs.

Then it happened.

Roger, who was at the back of the group some 15-20 meters behind me, raised his voice—half joking, half unsure.

“Hey… I think there’s something in the bush behind the car.”

The guide barely looked back. “Probably an elephant,” he replied.

Roger hesitated. “It almost looked like a lion… funny.” You could hear in his voice he didn’t really believe it himself.

But the guide turned back to check. He took just a few steps—and then suddenly shouted:

“Back in the car—quick! Quick!”

No questions asked. We bolted back, adrenaline snapping us into motion. Everyone jumped in.

There was a lion in the bush, behind the car, some 10-12 meters, I’m not sure.

Not resting. Not yawning. This one was actively working a young elephant carcass into the dense bush.

We drove around to get a better angle. Through the branches, we saw the lion working on the elephant, slowly pulling it deeper into cover. It was one of those moments that doesn’t feel real—something raw and heavy, from nothing, to action in a second.

Eventually, the lion disappeared fully into the thicket with its kill.

We sat for a moment. Processing. Whispering. Then someone suggested we loop back to the other side of the bush where we had originally parked. Maybe from that side, we could see something.

We circled back—and what we saw stopped us cold.

There was a second lion, lying down exactly where our vehicle had been parked around five minutes earlier.

Just lying there. Watching.

We stayed in the car, waiting. Watching.

Eventually, lion no.1 emerged from the thicket and walked past us, calm and deliberate. Then, just as quietly, his companion—lion no.2—rose and followed. Together, they made their way down toward the riverbed.

That’s when it hit us again.

If you look at the image, you’ll see exactly how narrow and steep the path down to the riverbed really is. The lion is just beginning the descent—we had already walked much farther down when the alert came. From that lower position, there’s nowhere to go. Just open sand, thorny scrub, and the water ahead. No cover. No elevation. No quick way out.

So of course, the thought lingers—what if?

What if Roger hadn’t noticed something in the bush? What if we’d all kept walking, unaware, down to the river to shoot birds, relaxed and distracted?

We would have stayed down there for 15 or 20 minutes for sure, we would’ve been sitting ducks when those two lions came down—no car, no cover, no real way to move. Sure, the guide had a rifle. But that’s a last resort. And in a closed space like that, with two full-grown lions—fed or not—there’s not much room for error. In a confined space, both we and the lion would feel threatened.

My best guess is that the second lion had been with the first one at the kill. When we drove around the bush to get a better angle, he must’ve quietly walked out and laid down exactly where our car had been, completely unnoticed. Waiting. Watching.

Had we walked just a little faster… had Roger been just a little more distracted…
This story could’ve ended very differently. At first I was hesitant to tell my wife this story.

Anyway, I’m heading back in October 2026, if you want to join for epic adventures in Mana Pools, send me a message.

Note:
I haven’t edited these images—they’re just snapshots. It felt more honest to share them that way, straight from the moment, not polished or perfected.

And as for the dialogue—these are my recollections, almost a year later. The exact words may have been slightly different, but the meaning and the mood are exactly as I remember them.