Equator

Seasoned Safari people.

We looked like seasoned travellers as we pulled up in front of the Norfolk Hotel in Nairobi; wiry, covered in dust and tanned to a deep, kipper colour. As we nonchalantly hurled our bags off the roof of our truck, people asked us for advice. We didn't seem to be tourists any more, but from here on we would be on our own in a rented minibus and our competence was about to be truly tested.

I planned our heroic assault on Mt Kenya from a beta version of the Bradt Guide that I found in London. But first we were going to the Aberdare Mountains to stay at The Ark where elephants came to salt licks and where, in the absence of lions, hyenas became hunters rather than scavengers.

Armed at the Ark.

We were greeted by a large, white man with a rifle. He gave us the safety talk, warning us to stay in the  building or on the balconies at all times. At the time, I thought this to be purely a theatrical device, but after an hour I saw a troop of baboons scatter from the edge of the forest and then the unmistakeable, but indistinct form of a leopard appeared in the clearing, paused and disappeared again.


As dusk set in we saw giant forest hogs and elephants gather. They came right up to us and pressed close under the balcony where there was a salt lick. We could here rumbling intestines and watch the tender way that all the females of the herd treated the babies. Then a few buffalo arrived and pushed their way in among the elephants. A wheel was formed with trunks, tusks and horns facing outwards towards the darkness beyond. ZZeeup! Hyenas; a big pack of them, circling the herd. A very brave baby elephant yelled defiantly and ran out from under his mother's legs. She soon snatched him back, but an elderly looking buffalo was not so lucky. I guessed that he had been on the menu for that evening since before it got dark and, after several hours of pursuit through the forest, had sought refuge among the elephants. It worked for a while, but the hyenas were organised and cunning and they eventually cut him out from the herd and brought him down.

It could be Sussex.

The Aberdares are serious mountains, with Mt Kenya at 14,000 feet being the highest. They are young mountains with jagged peaks and ridges incised with steep valleys. The lower slopes are more gentle with terraced pastures used for dairy farming. You could be in Sussex. This was the White Highlands where Europeans settled to grow crops and hunt game, well away from the steamy, malaria ridden coast. It was a good life with a sense of community and purpose. People still grow tea, coffee, fruit and vegetables.

Mot really mini-bus country.

We had planned a day to explore the Aberdares National Park, but the minibus couldn't cope with the hills and, as we climbed above the forest, the road-side cane brakes closed in on us. The hill country was particularly good for birds and quite a few of them were endemics, but it was also a great place for buffalos and rhinos and, if you walked on the road to help the vehicle by lightening the load, you might get into trouble very quickly. We aborted that bit of the drive and went on north to the equator at Isiolo. This is a place that looks more like Somalia than Kenya. It is the edge of the real desert.

The skeletal acacia trees looked totally dead but the cactus-like Euphorbias were still green. Raptors including buzzards, eagles and even eagle owls were everywhere. My favourites were the batalleurs that soared on broad wings held permanently in a V. They moved so fast without flapping that you could often hear the rush of wind through their feathers from far away. Every twist and turn was made by small adjustments to the wings and by tilting, even rocking, from side to side. They had no tail to speak of, like some sort of experimental aircraft.

Isiolo High Street; slap bang on the Equator.

Nico, like most Dutchmen, speaks several languages adequately, but the odd slip of the tongue can be bemusing or even down-right poetic. He kept having "Raptures in Euphoria trees." On the other hand, sister Susy has a sharp sense of the absurd.

We came across a group of fish eagles, miles from water and I exclaimed, "What the Dickens are they doing here in the desert?"

Susy cast a jaundiced, Chicagoan eye around the desolate scene and remarked;

"Well, they sure as hell ain't selling real estate".

Geranuks.

We drove on rutted tracks through clouds of dust until we reached Samburu National Park. Our reason for going there was the assemblage of drought tolerant mammals that survive there. Geranuks are antelopes that have long necks and stand on their hind legs to reach green branches; they are learning to be giraffes. But even the giraffes that we saw were differnt to the ones we saw in the Marar. These were reticulated giraffes and like the narrow striped Grevy's zebras that we saw, they are well adapted to the arid climate and the severe drought that we were experiencing up there.  Three new mammal species in the first half an hour, without Emma's help, and more to come: Not bad for amateurs.

In Samburu, we drove around a lot of the park, but the biggest adventures awaited us back at the camp.

We arrived there in the afternoon and settled in the open-fronted lounge where coffee was always on the go. As usual, I put up my telescope and trained it on a likely spot beyond the balcony. The birds had gathered around what had recently been a marsh, but was now a trampled, muddy mess full of crocodiles. I remember that we also saw baboons there, but I was in bird-watching mode.

Grevy's zebras.

Soon other guests began to arrive, mostly by overland trucks that were either converted Mercedes Unimogs or old army lorries. All the groups looked the same, like they had been dipped in flour. Everyone was covered in dust from head to foot, but they soon shook it off, revealing tanned skin, smart clothes and jewellery beneath. No-one carried binoculars except us.

A loud party of Italians arrived and pounced on my telescope with delight. They were wonderfully keen and sociable and obviously having the time of their lives. They loved being shown the birds and animals and were never afraid to show their enthusiasm which infected all of us. Then, in stark contrast,  a party of young English ladies from Roedean School arrived and began to moan about everything. They ignored the view and focussed on the buffet before taking over all the seats in the room. We overheard a girl called Heather complaining that her pearls had got dusty!

Having devoured all the cakes, the girls went off to use up all the water in the lodge and we breathed a sigh of relief. However, Heather and her friends soon returned and started turning the place upside down. Katy just couldn't resist and, in royal tones asked, "Has Heather lost her beautiful pearls then?" No-one laughed except us.

Happy croc.

We did not stay in the lodge but in tents by a dried-up river where ragged palm trees grew. It looked very like an Egyptian wadi to me and I half expected to see camels there, but what did see was elephants; lots of them, very close to our tents.

I guess the classic desert animal must be the oryx and I expected them to be difficult to find. They were shy, but we saw quite a few of them in the hilly land about a mile away from camp: so elegant and yet so shy.

The downside to staying at the camp was the food. One night we had chops of some kind but they were practically inedible. In the morning we saw a waiter set off from the lodge in his white suit but with his trousers rolled up. With one hand, he balanced a silver tray full of chops above his head as he delicately picked his way through the mud towards the waiting crocs.

Nothing moved, but at that point I would have hurled the whole tray-full as afar away from myself as I could before running like stink! But the waiter took his time and just stood there for a while before throwing one chop at a time towards the crocs. There was a massive eruption of mud and water but our man just backed off slowly. I noticed that he never took his eyes off the crocs until he was well clear, but he remained "Mr. Cool." It is my guess that his colleagues sent him out there on a kind of dare and he had to play it as cool as he could while they watched; but all the same, he carried it off with aplomb.