The Art and Soul of Walking Safaris

There’s something ancient and grounding about walking through the African bush. It pulls you in — not with spectacle, but with subtlety. You become part of the landscape, not just a visitor watching from the sidelines. It’s not just a different way to safari — it’s a different way to feel alive.

I’ve been a professional guide for 14 years. For the past 12 years, I’ve specialised in walking safaris, leading guests throughout Africa’s rugged, untamed terrain. Every single walk still brings me the same quiet thrill. I walk because it’s real, raw, and awakens something elemental in us that most of the modern world has forgotten.

A return to the ‘Original Safari’

Long before safari vehicles roamed the plains, before roads were carved and cameras pointed, people walked. They tracked animals by footprints, scat, crushed grass, and claw marks. They listened to the wind. They watched the birds. They moved quietly and purposefully, reading the land like a living manuscript.

Our walking safaris at Governors’ Mugie House are a return to that original rhythm — a way of being present, immersed, and respectful in the wild. It’s not about conquering nature but walking alongside it. I don’t guide with urgency or expectation. I guide with curiosity and attention. That’s what walking demands of us. And in return, it offers something more profound than any game drive ever could.

With Mugie’s two cheetah brothers – photo credit Felix Rome

Adventure measured in footsteps

People sometimes ask if walking safaris are all about adrenaline. And yes, your senses come alive like they rarely do elsewhere. You become aware of every breeze, every branch, every shift in the air. Your instincts sharpen.

I’ll never forget tracking a male lion on Mugie Conservancy one morning. His prints were freshly pressed into the dusty track just after dawn. You could see where he had paused, turned, and rubbed his mane against a low thorn tree. Each impression revealed a step in his journey.

As we moved slowly through the bush, silence became part of the experience—not emptiness but presence. And then we saw him, resting under a shepherd’s tree, half in shadow, half in the golden morning light. He knew we were there — we made sure he did. But he didn’t move, and neither did we. It was a moment shared in mutual respect and understanding, because we hadn’t encountered him by chance. We had earned it, step by step.

Photo credit Felix Rome

The details that vehicles miss

From a 4×4, your eyes scan for the big shapes—elephants, giraffes, zebras. On foot, the bush comes alive in miniature. You notice the delicate tracks of a genet in the sand or the rhythmic carving of a dung beetle at work. You admire the texture of tree bark worn smooth by generations of scratching buffalo. You spot tiny flowers bursting through dry earth and catch the scent of wild basil underfoot.

A dung beetle at work – photo credit Felix Rome

On Mugie Conservancy and across most of Laikipia, the ecosystem is rich in these details — from the spiral horns of an eland disappearing into a valley to the shimmer of sunbirds darting through the scrub. When you walk, you’re not just observing. You’re discovering. And that, to me, is the true luxury of walking: not how far you go, but how much you notice along the way.

Photo credit Felix Rome

Tracking: A Dying Art Worth Preserving

Tracking is an ancient skill passed down through generations. It’s a blend of logic, intuition, and patience. Like many traditional crafts, it’s at risk of fading away. That’s part of why I walk—to keep that art alive.

Tracking Mugie’s resident lions – photo credit Felix Rome

When you track an animal, you enter its world. You begin to think like it, move like it, anticipate its next steps. A bend in the path, a line of disturbed grass, a single cracked twig — all become clues. Each print is a word, and the bush becomes a book. The culmination of this experience is when you finally meet the animal; in that moment, everything connects: the tracks, the journey, the silence.

It’s not fast. It’s not easy. But it’s one of the most rewarding things I’ve ever done.

Walking for fitness and focus

Walking in the bush keeps me fit, yes. But more than that, it keeps me grounded. It sharpens the senses. Clears the mind. It forces you to be fully present — not thinking about yesterday or tomorrow, just what’s in front of you: the rocks, the wind, the distant bark of a baboon.

Photographing a black-shouldered kite during a walk – photo credit Felix Rome

It’s also where the most meaningful guest connections happen—walking strips away distractions. We share the silence. We share the discoveries. We stop for tea beneath a fever tree, swap stories, laugh, and reflect. It’s safari at its most human.

For anyone with a curious spirit

There’s a belief that walking safaris are only for the bold and the brave. But really, they’re for the curious. You don’t need to be particularly fit or fearless; you must be open to learning, noticing, and slowing down.

On Mugie, we walk through varied terrain — from open plains to forested riverbanks to rocky ridges with sweeping views. Every walk is different. Every path has something to show you. Whether it’s your first time in Africa or your fifteenth, walking allows for a more intimate encounter with the wildlife and landscapes.

Photo credit Felix Rome

Experience the wild by walking

In the world of luxury travel, we often talk about once-in-a-lifetime experiences. But walking safaris are something more. They’re once-in-a-mindset. Once-in-a-way-of-seeing. And for those of us who guide them, they’re a lifelong calling.

So yes — this is why I walk.
Because the land still speaks to those who move slowly.
Because every track holds a story worth following.
And because some adventures are too rich to be rushed.

By Ryan Smart, Activities Manager for Governors’ Mugie House, Laikipia. To find out more about a walking safari with us, please see Guided Bush Walks.