World Wittering

The first morning of our five day safari odyssey was mainly taken up with the drama of Sarah’s lost pack. Alas, progress was not forthcoming and the girls returned from the airline office empty handed, save for a, not entirely convincing, promise that it would, eventually, be located. And so, after some last minute faffing and running around for malaria tablets, contact lenses and knickers (oh, and a couple of crates of beer and several bottles of wine), we climbed aboard the great green Land Cruiser, with driver Omi and chef Daniel, and drove to our lodgings near Lake Manyara.

On the way we caught our first clear site of Mount Meru’s peak and then crossed golden plains dotted with Masai villages and cattle herds being driven to fresh grazing and then, dropping the luggage in our rooms, we ate a quick packed lunch and made for the park.

Within a few minutes we’d seen various impala and a selection of birds and were treated to several family groupings of elephant, ranging from giant tusked bulls to small babies sheltering beneath the bellies of their mothers. After further sightings of black ververt monkeys, red arsed baboons (some in quite alarming states) and bush buck, several giraffes strolled gracefully past – they’re my favourites.

We got caught at a Land Cruiser bottleneck for half an hour as each vehicle took turns to watch a leopard asleep in the crook of a distant tree branch – when our turn finally came, we were rewarded with a brief glimpse of its tail and hindquarters, yet were not disappointed.

Moving out of the jungle onto the plain, the lake shimmering beneath a daunting distant mountain curtain, we spotted warthogs, zebras, pelicans and flamingos, prompting squeals of excitement, as each new specimen was identified in Nick’s handy safari spotter’s handbook, not unlike those of, say, a group of four year old children.

Time and time again we came upon new groupings of elephants, bathing in mud pools, tearing down foliage or simply walking down the road toward us. A few final sightings included buzzards, storks, Nile lizards and the wonderfully named Kirk’s Dik Dik.

It was hard to believe we’d seen so much in so little time, but all too soon it was approaching 6pm and time to make our way out of the park. As we rounded a corner on the exit road, we were suddenly confronted by a large bull elephant, clearly agitated, trumpeting and waving its trunk ominously. We reversed up the road and out of sight but it kept following us and then, just as we were starting to wonder just how much protection our vehicle provided against such a huge, angry creature, it stomped off into the jungle leaving a trail of devastated vegetation in its wake.

We returned to the lodge and spent the evening recounting the days events excitedly over cold beers, with Nick, the only one of us with safari experience, promising greater things to come. The evening was further boosted with the news that Sarah’s bag had been found and would be waiting for her on our return to Arusha, and was then rounded off, after dinner, with a display by some local acrobats which can only be described as mediocre.

The following morning was taken up with the long drive to the Serengeti, passing up and around the mist cloaked peak above the Ngorongoro Crater. After a few hours, we stopped at a Masai village, situated in the middle of a vast empty plain. I grasped my trusty omilileek, the Masai warrior stick I’d purchased a few days before, and we approached the village welcoming party. A group of warriors began a traditional dance, you know the jumping up and down one from BBC1, while a group of women sang trill ululations. We were then welcomed into the village, with my stick causing a great deal of interest and, of course, stick envy from the other warriors. We were given a tour of the village, the inside of a boma mud hut and informed about the traditional way of life – including the amazing fact that the Masai do not include water in their diet, drinking only fresh cow’s blood.

It was then time for us to be subjected to a period of intense hard sell of jewellry, carvings, “Lion’s Teeth TM”, knives, spears, pretty much anything in the village that we might want to part with money for that wasn’t nailed down. The chief’s son, supplementing his traditional garb with Bono style wraparound black shades, was stuck to me like glue until I was forced to, literally, buy the blanket from his back – it smelled strongly of goat.

Fully laden with our new purchases – Sarah with so much jewellry she resembled a Masai Mr T, Nick with a vicious looking club and a “Lion’s Tooth TM” necklace, we were then shown the village school where a series of tiny tiny snotty nosed children dressed in rags jumped up and recited English numbers and alphabet, prompting all of us to well up like big girls.

Finally, it was time to depart – the chief’s son proclaimed I was now a true Masai warrior and, more importantly, that Nick was not – we jumped aboard our not quite British Racing Green safari machine and continued on to the gates of the Serengeti, passing on the way ostriches, more giraffes and Grant’s and Thompson’s gazelle.

At the gate we ate lunch surrounded by flocks of semi-tame Superb Starlings and Red Billed Quetea, and then carried on into the Serengeti proper. As Omi barrelled along the dusty roads of this vast grassy plain, we stood watching vigilantly from the roof hatches and screaming like ladies of a certain age at a Take That reunion concert whenever a new species was spotted.

After getting wildly overexcited about seeing hartebeest, topi and zebra, we finally had justification for our shrieks as we came across three lionesses. The first was sat languidly atop a distant mound, but the other two were resting in the shade of a large tree not far from the side of the road. We stopped for a while to see if they would do anything and then, when no action was forthcoming, Omi jumped out of the vehicle to try to see if they’d react to a few rocks carefully lobbed in their direction. Still no movement was apparent, leading to speculation that we weren’t the first to try the rock lobbing tactic and that the lions were actually unconscious with serious head wounds.

Next stop was a large stagnant pool of water full of hippos. We stopped and stared, they did nothing but give the occasional yawn and we all found it very hard to believe that they kill more humans than any other animal on safari and can run something like 35 km/h. Nevertheless, we didn’t chance it and Omi didn’t throw anymore rocks.

We carried on racing through the park, needing to reach the gate at the far northeast corner by 6.30pm. This deadline came repeatedly under pressure as we screamed for Omi to stop when we saw wildebeest, bat eared foxes (oh yes), spotted hyena and row upon row of vultures perched in trees and very much resembling their Disney counterparts – from Robin Hood? – but without the musical instruments. We were also treated to a full scale baboon fight, with a large dominant male taking on a couple of young pretenders and, if you’ll forgive me, kicking their scarily malformed backsides.

With the sun setting in a glorious spectacle of red, orange and purple, we finally reached our evening’s destination and were delighted to find we were to be housed in a wonderfully kitsch 70’s style safari lodge bedecked in animal hides and skulls, oversize leather furniture and a wonderful mock-tudor style bar area – Ron Burgundy would have been truly in his element. Time, obviously, to relax with a cool tasty beverage and trawl the animal handbook for all those obscure breeds of bird we hadn’t had time to identify during the day – Red Billed Buffalo Weaver, Hildebrandt’s Starling, Fischer’s Lovebird, White Browed Sparrow Weaver – boring? ok then, how about the Kori Bustard, the largest flying bird on the planet then?

The hotel manager showed us to our rooms for the night – a pair of sumptuously appointed double rooms with large four poster beds and luxury bathrooms. Alas, we were to be foiled. Sarah and Nick had known each other less than 24 hours and so it was not deemed appropriate that they share a four poster – I couldn’t blame her I didn’t fancy sharing the four poster with Nick either. The manager came to the rescue and offered us three more modest rooms so that Lee and I could share and Nick and Sarah wouldn’t have to, sighs of relief all round. A pleasant dinner and some more tasty beverages ensued, together with the decision to get up at 5am in order to make the most of the following day – the drink talking surely?

Nevertheless, at 5am we were at the breakfast table, at 5.30 Omi and Daniel made an appearance, and at just after 6 we were banging on the gatekeeper’s door demanding to be let into the park. We drove across the plain in the early morning sunlight, watched by the same rows of vultures, and caught early sightings of zebras, hartebeest, warthogs and ostriches, Omi making for the famous Grumeti river where thousands of wildebeest run the gauntlet of waiting crocodiles on their annual migration.

Soon we were in the midst of an amazing spectacle – literally thousands of wildebeest and accompanying zebra, marching in huge long lines through the scrub in their instinctive search for water, the zebra breaking the the morning silence with their distinctive honking call. And then suddenly we were at the river and confronted with an awesome sight, a lion and lioness sat on the river bank with a freshly killed wildebeest. We pulled up the Land Cruiser just a few metres away and settled in for the show. Nick was panting with excitement, having spent the previous days recounting his exploits on previous safaris and announcing he was only interested in seeing the big predators with their kills.

We sat on the roof and watched in wonder as the lion sat in the shade, yawning, while his mate buried her muzzle inside the carcass, pulling out the bulging stomach and tearing it open. A large pool of foul looking digested vegetation spilled out onto the dirt and the lioness then picked up the carcass and dragged it a few feet away before continuing to root around inside. Omi explained what we were seeing, she really was cleaning the carcass and preparing the lion’s meal for him in true domesticated fashion – cue sexist jokes from Nick and I. We were entranced, three of us having never seen anything like this in real life before, I was half expecting Sir David to pop out from behind the bush and provide a breathlessly excited commentary. As the lioness tucked into her part of the meal, we could hear bones crunching loudly, and we weren’t the only ones – in the trees above vultures looked on expectantly waiting for their opportunity to get a piece of the action.

The blood, guts and gore were all over the place, but we just wanted more, Sarah – confirmed vegetarian and yoga practitioner – couldn’t get enough, loudly proclaiming she wanted to see small fluffy animals being killed and ripped to pieces by large scary ones.

Then, just as we thought we’d seen the best, the two lions repaired to a shady spot and began to mate – we’d hit the jackpot. Omi explained that in this, the mating season, the lions paired up away from the pride and copulated, on average, one hundred times a day. We whistled in admiration, Nick and I looked at each other in astonishment and then at Sarah and Lee, who seemed to have a wistful dreamy look in their eyes.

The lion may well be able to get it on one hundred times in a day, but I’m sorry to report, ladies, that the whole thing lasted about twenty seconds, and seemed to involve quite a lot of snarling and the odd slash of claws across the muzzle. Foreplay? I think not, though each time they went for it, I couldn’t resist singing the the chorus of Marvin Gaye’s “Let’s Get It On”.

We spent a couple of hours watching this pair, really getting an insight into the interplay of animal life all around us. As the lions ate, copulated, rested, the wildebeest and zebra continued massing ranks around us. Intermittently, groups would cross the river, and then dash in all directions in panic as the crocodiles pounced from beneath the water. At the same time the lions were playing an hilarious repetitive game with the vultures who would creep forward, in a cartoon fashion, when the lions were distracted to try and get a bite of the wildebeest carcass. Then, when they’d advanced too close, the male lion would come running powerfully over, roaring and flashing his teeth to scare them away.

After a while another male lion appeared, skirting the area and clearly wanting to try his chances with either the carcass, the lioness or both. For a moment we thought we’d get the ultimate spectacle of two male lions battling it out – Sarah could barely contain herself at the prospect – but the intruder turned out to be a bit of a coward and it only took a few loud roars and the baring of the teeth to see him off. For a while we followed him at a distance as he skirted around the massing wildebeest and zebra to see if he’d make a kill of his own, but lost him in trees.

After a picnic lunch in a, supposedly, “safe area” – no fences or armed guards, safe how exactly? – we spent some time watching the crocs in the river – the stench of rotting wildebeest was atrocious, apparently they like their meat to “age” for several days before they consume it. There were further sightings of baboons, a multitude of bird species and, best of all, some close encounters with giraffes – ok, so not as exciting as the lions, but I just think they’re cool.

We finished the day with a final visit to our romantic lion couple, who by this time had a crowd of about a dozen cars surrounding them. Still, you have to give them credit, they didn’t seem to mind the audience and were still getting it on every twenty minutes or so. At one point, a hare broke cover just beside the lion and bolted past him, narrowly missing a swinging paw and certain death – Sarah beat the roof of the car with her fists in frustration.

After such an exciting day and eight hours of intense sunshine, it was time to repair to the lodge. We made a detour to a local town to pick up food supplies for the following day and then got hopelessly lost trying to negotiate the maze of dirt tracks back, I blamed a lack of clear signage – something the manager later denied vehemently.

After taking on some cold refreshment, we sat and watched a breathtaking sunset before retiring to scrub up for dinner. A pleasant meal was partaken and then Lee retired, while Sarah, Nick and I demolished a couple of bottles of decent red beneath a spectacular canopy of the brightest stars I’d ever seen and put the world to rights.

When the alarm went of at 6am it was clear that I was still feeling the effects of the wine. I watched the others eat breakfast and then we were back into the car to retrace our route through the park to Ngorongoro while I entertained the troops with, erm, pure comedy gold. We checked back to the Grumeti river but there was nothing going on so continued on our way, through the enormous herds of wildebeest, passing zebras, impala, ostriches and finally seeing another of the big five, a group of buffalo, complete with forehead ox pecker adornment.

We were also treated to a sighting of a group of hyenas – no one else liked them but I just think they’re misunderstood cos they’re not as cute as the big cats – and, best and rarest of all, the deadliest snake in the world, the black mamba battling a snake eagle – we immediately had to close all windows and hatches as the snake squirted venom all over the place and then entertained ourselves by saying “black mamba” over and over again in a variety of silly voices.

By mid-afternoon we’d made it to the campsite overlooking the Ngorongoro crater. We found tents already pitched for us, tossed a coin and Nick and I got the better one, the girls were not gracious in defeat. My hangover was in full effect by this time and I couldn’t wait for bed – Daniel knocked us up another of his superb meals and we ate in a large communal shed with all the other campers and then turned in early. I’d like to say I slept deeply and soundly but, alas, Nick snores like a fornicating lion and so it was a long cold wait for morning.

But, finally, morning did come and, once again, we were up obscenely early in order to be in the crater gate as it opened at 7am. We wound our way down the steep side of the crater, through layers of thick mist and then, suddenly, the crater floor came into view – a stunning, almost garden of eden-like, enclosed habitat with a large lake, forests and pastures – even from high up on the side we could see herds of gazelle, wildebeest and zebra.

As we reached the floor of the crater, we toured around the lake and watched waders and waterfowl feeding – storks, heron and flamingos – and then stopped as a pack of hyenas crossed the road in front of us on their way to drink. Moving on, we stumbled across a couple of lionesses and, stopping to watch through binoculars, realised they had several tiny, cute cubs playing around them.

After more buffalo, ostriches and hippos, we pulled up next to another Land Cruiser who was watching something about fifty metres from the road. We caught a glimpse of yellow fur and black spots and then binoculars confirmed we’d found what we’d been hoping for – a pair of cheetahs, a male and female – back of the net! The excitement was palpable as we stood in the roof hatches and impatiently passed the binoculars from one to another. The pair were sat motionless in semi-long grass and, best of all, gazing studiously at a group of impala grazing in the distance. The impala obviously knew they were there as they had lookouts on the edge of their group staring straight back at the cheetahs – a classic standoff.

Over the course of the next hour or so, we watched the cheetahs watching the impala watching the cheetahs, desperately hoping that something would happen. By this point Sarah was almost hysterical, demanding that an impala be sacrificed to assuage her bloodlust. I’d like to say we all found this distasteful, but to be truthful, we were all hoping that one of the cute furry bambi things was going to get its throat ripped out by these ferocious killers.

Finally, after a seemingly endless wait, during which we’d been joined by about ten other vehicles, the cheetahs made their move. The male slowly and cautiously got up and started to slink towards our car – I couldn’t resist it “It’s coming straight for us!” – we looked on in amazement as it strolled to the side of the road, literally two or three metres from us, completely ignoring the hordes of watchers and the machine gun clicking of cameras, it skirted our car and followed the path of the road.

In breathless silence, we stared as the male worked his way slowly toward the rear of the group of impala. The female was still motionless and the impala lookouts didn’t seem to have spotted the male. All of a sudden he made his move, dashing out from cover and flying towards the impala.  As one they bolted in panic, and ran full tilt toward the waiting female. For a few glorious moments we saw both cheetahs in full flight, unbelievably quick and graceful, they pursued the group and we could see one small impala lagging behind. In an instant the female was upon it, catching its back legs with a sweep of the paw to bring it down and then both were all over it, sinking teeth into its throat. We watched them feed for a while, adrenaline still pumping hard from the thrill of the chase, we couldn’t believe our luck.

Finally, it was time to leave. We made our way back to camp and packed the Land Cruiser for the journey back to Arusha. All we could talk about was the chase and kill we’d just witnessed, we were stunned.

About an hour outside Arusha we ran out of petrol. We didn’t bat an eyelid, nothing could depreciate our excitement. Omi soon found some fuel and we were back on our way again, reaching Arusha in late afternoon. Back at the hotel, Pantsuit Senior was there to greet us and informed us that the hotel was full, but that we were booked into his other, nicer hotel – bonus.

We scrubbed up, Sarah regained her luggage and we met up again for dinner – deciding that we were in no fit state to commence Kilimanjaro the following day. Pantsuit Snr dropped by and was happy to delay by a day. Nick, Sarah and Lee took up Omi’s invitation to visit his home and meet his girlfriend – apparently she was overjoyed at this, spending the time they spent there studiously texting.

We spent the following day pottering about Arusha, generally lazing and getting mentally prepared for what was to come. In the evening, we shared a pizza dinner at a nearby restaurant and all refrained from drinking and then turned in for an early night, each of us silently contemplating the spectre of Kilimanjaro which loomed over us like, well, like the highest mountain in Africa.