A royal rush

“They were my friends,’’ the driver told me later at a rest stop. “We know the police. They don’t worry us; what worries us is running into animals. They’re attracted to the headlights.’’

He said he had been luckier than other drivers and had slammed into only a few antelope-like animals in the years he had been making the night trip to Zambia. Yet the prospect of colliding with large, antler-bearing creatures provided too much roadkill for thought as we sped through the darkness. Then the air conditioning cut off, and my girlfriend and I squirmed as we tried to sleep, the sweat pooling in our open eyes as we questioned our wisdom.

It was the last leg of a monthlong trip earlier this year that began in Johannesburg, and we were ready to have someone else do the driving after navigating thousands of miles in a compact rental car on treacherous roads in South Africa and Namibia.

When we finally crossed the border a day later and arrived in Livingstone, the driver deposited us on a dusty road in the damp heat of this small, growing city, which has become an increasingly popular base for exploring Victoria Falls since the political and economic implosion of neighboring Zimbabwe. (On the map, Livingstone, or Maramba, is closely surrounded by three other countries: Namibia, Botswana, and Zimbabwe.)

Like a knight in a shiny SUV, Richard Chanter, a British expatriate and local DJ, was waiting to pick us up and take us to the nearby lodge he has owned for the past decade. He helped us get our bearings, and after much-needed showers, we set off to explore the city in the remaining light.