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I'd been traveling through Southern Africa for two months before I'd even heard about walking safaris. I was headed to a part of the Okavango Delta that was literally untouched by tourism-no cars, motorboats, or buildings, the only source of running water being the root-like river network of the Delta's clean, fresh water. A part of me remained apprehensive at the offer: there was a chance of encountering predators-hyena or lions-as well as hippopotamus, which are more of a threat to humans than the meat eaters. My guides would carry mere sticks as defensive weapons, but they had grown up eating, breathing, and living the Delta, and they assured me of my safety. If I wanted the true Delta experience-untouched Africa at its most pure-I would need to strap on my hiking shoes and get wet.

Immediately after we left the campsite I was fully integrated into the animal world: we walked their trails, followed their footsteps, seeing, smelling and hearing what they saw, smelled, and heard. No engine noise disturbed the lazy calm of the vast grasslands. With no fences, wheels, walls, or bars I was in the position the animals are-relying on my senses to get around, just as they do. It is the great equalizer: here, you're not the dominant predator, the highest evolved creature. It is humbling beyond belief.

Walking through the Delta offers the rawest sensory experience I imagine could be possible. Closing my eyes, each sound was magnified and resonated around me in the still air. Animal calls seem much closer than they are: the hyena that you hear laughing, or the baboon howling, are likely to be several kilometers away. At daybreak and twilight, the calls of the crickets and frogs become a deafening, cacophonous chorus. Opening my eyes, I would try to spot the herd of zebra through the trees in the distance and inevitably struggled-their markings give a perfect camouflage.

The smells were the most dominant-the different grasses, running water, the flowers and trees, combine to make the most natural perfume you are ever likely to smell. I was intoxicated. Physically, the Delta feels soft, fragile, yet somehow resilient enough to withstand centuries of the same cycle and support thousands of animal families. The Delta floor is sandy, but not like beach sand (too coarse), or desert sand, fine yet bone dry. Delta sand is powdery yet somehow malleable; grabbing a handful is like reaching your hand into a sack of flour. The density and texture preserves footprints perfectly for days, a reminder that you aren't the only creature walking that path.

Walking along we encountered a herd of impala. I would have driven past haughtily had I been in a safari vehicle-impala are everywhere in Southern Africa and quickly lose their appeal. On foot, they regained novelty. The group eyed us carefully as we approached, as quietly as a herd of humans can, as we crept (thundered, I'm sure) through the bush. Every so often the dominant male would make a loud, sneeze-like noise, a signal for the herd to flee. Until now I hadn't know impala to make any sound, as the grunting engine of a Land Cruiser would have always drowned it out.

Wandering onward we found fresh elephant tracks and scatterings of dung. Larger animals like the elephant and hippo stomp their way through the Delta as they graze, unknowingly creating trails in the flattened grass they leave in their wake. If you're lucky, these paths can lead directly to the herd. After following several minutes my guide stopped dead. There was a grazing hippo about 80 meters ahead of us. That was one animal we did not want to encounter on foot; a hippo can easily outrun a man, and are exceedingly dangerous to humans. We tiptoed away.

Safely away from the hippo my guide stopped again and pointed 25 meters ahead of us-a male spotted hyena ambled through the grass, marking the territory of its clan. Hyena will hunt as well as scavenge, and have jaws powerful enough to crush elephant bones. Despite this they are skittish, much to my relief. I held my breath; it saw us and bolted. I never imagined I would have seen a predator in the wild and survive to tell the tale.

A walking safari levels the barriers between you and the animals you want to see-you must rely on all of your senses, anticipate what the other species will do, and be on your guard. Humans have evolved out of having to do this on a daily basis. Get back to your roots and experience the animal world on your feet at least once in your life-if done properly and safely, it can be outright magical.