Thanks in part to his passionate commitment to the anti-slavery movement, Livingstone earned himself a special place in the admiration of the Zambian people - so much so that, in 1905, 50 years after his historic visit, a newly founded town on the Zambian side of Victoria Falls was named after him. Livingstone town grew into a prosperous centre which, for a time, was capital of Northern Rhodesia.

The affection for David Livingstone lives on, and in 2005 Zambia will be launching a year of anniversary celebrations centred around the Falls. Among the events planned are heritage walks, exhibitions, a carnival and, in June, a major festival in the Livingstone area.

Modern-day adventurers are waking up to Zambia's attractions. When Stephanie Debere took a few weeks out to explore the country's national parks, she discovered a wealth of inspiring landscapes and engrossing wildlife watching opportunities. Meanwhile Julie Davidson, on a quest to learn more about a fellow Scot, set about retracing the steps of Livingstone's last journey - and ended up uncovering a few of Zambia's best-kept secrets.

See 'In Livingstone's footsteps'

Zambia: Modern discoveries

What, I wondered as our little sightseeing plane swooped above the cloud of spray, would David Livingstone have made of all this? He stumbled on the world's largest waterfall during a gruelling trek with the aim of bringing his "three C's" to Africa: Christianity, commerce and civilisation. But 150 years later the pleasure playground that has evolved around Victoria Falls, fuelled by adrenaline and iced G&Ts, seemed hell-bent on promoting two H's - hedonism and happiness. Austere by nature, Livingstone would, I suspected, be horrified.

Given his suffering, he would also be incredulous at the comfort and entertainment available in the Zambian town bearing his name. Even I was taken aback: last time I came, a decade ago, its air was that of a rundown has-been, but now its quaint colonial facades, covered walkways and Dutch gables - remnants from settler days when it was the country's capital (1911-1935) - form the atmospheric backdrop to a town pulsing with growth. Once seen as the poor relation to Victoria Falls town in neighbouring Zimbabwe, Livingstone has now blossomed in its own right, reinforcing the area's claim to be southern Africa's adventure capital and a natural crossroads for travellers.

From sipping champagne overlooking the peaceful lawns of the new Royal Livingstone Hotel to stuffing juicy pizzas at the Funky Munky, my friend and I lived like sybarites before embarking on a four-week road tour of Zambia. When the high from sky diving, whitewater rafting or bungee jumping wanes, you just recharge it on a riverboat booze cruise, over blackjack at the Zambezi Sun's casino or with a good flirtatious dance at Ravestone.

We hadn't travelled far before it seemed that Livingstone wasn't Zambia's only success story. The country's potholed highways, once legendary among visitors, used to symbolise a general malaise caused by political corruption and poor governance. But the road towards our first stop, Lochinvar National Park, had a newly metalled surface, reflecting, we hoped, better times.

Lochinvar also had a potholed history that had recently been smoothed thanks to investment from the safari operator Star of Africa. Set south-west of the capital, Lusaka, in the Kafue River floodplain, the park was a cattle ranch for over 50 years before the government bought it, with help from the WWF, forming a national park with the Dutch-gabled settler farmhouse as a state-run lodge. However by the mid-'90s the park was neglected, the lodge an atmospheric ruin and the wildlife threatened by villagers' poaching and fishing. When the government put the concession to tender, Star of Africa erected an opulent tented camp beside the lagoon at Lochinvar's heart.

Our guide Petrus drove us through acacia bush punctuated with termite skyscrapers, baobabs, euphorbia and bubbling hot springs, before bursting onto Lochinvar's endless flat grasslands. Seasonally inundated, these floodplains are idyllic for waterfowl and plains game. Vast herds of Kafue lechwe - shaggy red antelope - filled the horizon in ungraspable numbers, running fluidly like fish in a shoal before splitting into streams and pattering to a halt.

The WWF has designated Lochinvar a ‘Wetland of International Importance', and is working with Star of Africa towards community development and conservation. Tourism is already generating an alternative income to poaching, although as we passed a local fishing camp, the scale of the challenge posed by human pressure was evident.

Nevertheless the park is immensely peaceful and the absence of predators meant we could walk freely and relax on the tree swing overlooking the lagoon, its shores patrolled by hordes of ibis, storks and waders. At sunset, Petrus paddled us over water turned metallic by the late light, where we lazily trained binos onto wattled cranes and Egyptian geese. Into the tranquillity flew two dozen magnificent white pelicans with outsized lemon-yellow beaks. We watched in silence as they bobbed on the steely blue water, quirky and beautiful, until darkness drove us towards the comfort of the campfire and a sumptuous dinner. It's no Big Five game destination, but Lochinvar's wildlife is unquestionably compelling - and the same holds true of Kasanka National Park in north-east Zambia, 30km from the Congolese border.

Each November Kasanka's skies darken with the arrival of between five and fifteen million straw-coloured fruit bats from throughout Central Africa - possibly the world's largest animal concentration. By day, trees sag beneath the inverted, tawny-blond mass. At twilight, visitors gather in a tree-hide, sundowners in hand, and wait for the sky to become an animated riot of silhouetted bats streaming in all directions in search of seasonal forest fruits.

It's all pure Hollywood special effect, yet it's not the real reason Kasanka is special. As Zambia's first privately-run national park, it has broken the management mould for Africa's state-owned protected areas, combining tourism, conservation and community development with great success. Small by African standards, it's unusually diverse, its patchwork of habitats ranging from dry woodland and evergreen riparian forest to open grassy dambos (drainage channels) and lakes fringed with palms and papyrus swamps. Kasanka's scenic charm has impressed many travellers - among them British expatriate David Lloyd, who visited through curiosity in 1985.

Exploring on foot, Lloyd was heartened to hear gunshots: if there was poaching, there must be animals. Together with a local farmer, he decided to rescue Kasanka, saving it from years of neglect. Using their own resources, they employed game-scouts and built roads, bridges and camps, forming the Kasanka Trust to raise funds. In 1990 Zambia's National Parks Authority was sufficiently impressed to allow the Trust to run the park. Such was its success that, in May 2003, it won another ten-year management contract.

Poaching is now controlled and animal stocks are increasingly robust. Powerful sable and roan antelope roam the forests alongside a growing elephant population (predators remain rare and elusive). Based at a lakeside camp, we drove through woodland alive with warthogs, baboons and fat pink protea flowers. Large herds of puku (shaggy-coated ginger antelope), zebra and waterbuck grazed the dambos, while Kasanka's birding equalled any in Africa, with 411 species identified. Many - psychedelic sunbirds, plump owls - are seductive even to the most reluctant twitcher.

Dawn saw us 18m up an African mahogany in a tree-hide. In season, here's where guests bat-watch, but we were being seduced by sitatunga: rare, beautiful swamp-dwelling antelope, of which Kasanka has Africa's densest, most visible population. Safari buffs are happy to see just one; here it's common to see 20 in one sitting (the record is 94).

The park is staffed by gracious local people. Five percent of tourism revenue goes to the community and Chief Chitambo (great-grandson of the chief who met Livingstone shortly before his death) sits on Kasanka's management council, helping coordinate conservation programmes to promote alternatives to poaching for the pot. Additional funds support a clinic and schools, and sponsor students. Kasanka's phoenix-rising story looked set to be repeated in Western Zambia at Liuwa Plain National Park, scene of Africa's second-largest wildebeest migration. Management had been recently awarded to African Parks Foundation, a private Dutch-based company with a strong track record of running state-owned protected areas according to sound business principles.

We were beginning to realise that Zambia is experiencing a renaissance which extends beyond its national parks. At Mutinondo Wilderness, a privately owned upland west of Kasanka, Mike and Lari Merrett have built four homely open-sided stone chalets and a campsite with dramatic views of granite whalebacks and undulating woodland. Driven by idealism and in close cooperation with local communities, they hope to conserve the ecosystems of their land through tourism. The upland is deliberately unfenced to allow game to repopulate the poached-out area naturally. Small buck and birds rustle in the vegetation, and the plant life is exquisite, including several orchid species and the prehistoric cycad. Skirting grassy clearings and tumbling rivers, we explored the property on horseback before testing our legs by scrambling up the highest whaleback for an exhilarating view: nothing but bush and further domes of rock.

We decided to camp in the thrilling lunar wilds of North Luangwa National Park, where only the hardiest operators brave the flimsy infrastructure. The park's headquarters were buzzing with excitement as several relocated black rhino had just arrived and were being held in bomas prior to their release - another good news story and our first reminder that Zambian game viewing isn't all about small, quirky reserves with specialist migrations.

The country's flagship parks - Kafue, South Luangwa and Lower Zambezi - are classic no-holds-barred big-game Africa, and have made Zambia home to the walking safari. The country has a vast amount of ideal terrain (Kafue is the size of Wales) and some of Africa's most talented and experienced guides.

They must also be among its most personable. From Tafika Camp, perfectly poised between luxury and simplicity on a raised riverbank, John Coppinger led us cordially on foot through South Luangwa's mature woodland, pausing often, to let elephant pass or to point out a beetle. It's hard to say which was more exciting: walking in such wild terrain or surveying it from John's microlight. The aerial view of hippo, crocodile and elephant soaking in the winding river certainly left me smiling for hours.

South Luangwa has a far stronger infrastructure than its northern sibling but beyond the relatively busy Mfuwe gateway area lie empty wilds. Bush Camps' Phil Berry, the embodiment of gentlemanly English charm, knows the best walks. His phenomenal eyesight feeds his appreciation for the bush's tiniest details: the metallic green of an ibis's back feathers; the beak-heavy silhouette of trumpeter hornbills in flight. We followed the barking of baboons, whose cries indicated the presence of a leopard, but the cat remained elusive. No matter: the main pleasure was just being on foot in this magnificent country of open grassy meadows, riverine woodland, spiky palms and rust-red escarpment.

Zambia's A-list of destinations was lengthening rapidly, boosted, Phil explained, by improved internal airlinks. Unless you have weeks to drive around, you'll need to fly, but I'd strongly recommend that visitors travel at least part of their journey by road. We were charmed by Zambia's lesser-known treasures - Nsalu Cave's Bantu rock paintings, the tumbling Kundalila Falls - and by dust-track villages with smartly decorated huts and smiling residents who hitched lifts with us.

When our Land Rover became stuck in a shallow muddy riverbed, a whole village appeared to dig it out. I'll never hear a more heartfelt cheer than the one which exploded two hours later when it finally surged up the riverbank. Zambia still faces tough development and conservation battles, but it showed us time and again the great reserves of goodwill and enterprise it can draw on. Of that, David Livingstone would surely have approved.