Safari Part Two: The Rift Valley.

We were bound for a week in the Masai Mara National Park in the Great Rift Valley, west of Nairobi.

Our route first led us north along a plateau before plunging us down the escarpment and across the dry valley floor to Nyeri where the tarmac ended. Along the way we had seen drongos, auger buzzards and vultures, but it was in the valley that we started to see bigger birds such as Kori bustards and mammals such as giraffes. The rift valley scenery was so impressive that I couldn't believe that I was there; and that's how I felt for the entire trip. It left such an impression on me that, nearly 30 years later, I'm writing this account from memory.


Our camp was a small concession in a bend of the Mara River, very near a Masai village but far away from anything else. We had total freedom because we were outside the park, so we could explore on foot, but as soon as we crossed the river, park rules applied. We humans obeyed the rules to the letter, but the wildlife did not.

The drought-shrunken river was no barrier to animals and they left and entered the park at will, taking strolls through our camp every night. My favourite sounds were the "Zip-Zooip" of hyenas (just like zipping up your tent), the deep-throaty "Whoraoaw" of lions close by and the strangely Swiss sound of cowbells as the Masia tribesmen herded their cattle past us at dawn and dusk.

Every morning, I would roam further along the south shore of the river, photographing birds and falling more and more in love with Africa. I found hammerkop nests, made of mud and sticks that were almost predator-proof and I saw swallows of four or fiver species, antelopes, termite mounds, and so much more. By day we would drive around the Mara seeing cheetahs, lions, elephants rhinos and antelopes in a kind of drought-ridden Eden with the Mau escarpment as a backdrop.

I learned the smell of water in a desert; like fermenting, beery, urine, kept in a tropical greenhouse where they use tea-bags as compost. You can smell it for miles. If you go into a hothouse with tropical plants in it, you will get the same smell. I also learned to fear "dead ground" where unseen hollows and dry gullies could conceal a whole pride of lions, a rhino or worse still, buffalo.

A visit with the Masai

One morning, after walking a couple of miles from the camp, I saw that my shortest route back was to take a straight line across the savannah. I could see the smoke from our fire, but after a few minutes my hair stood up on end as I realised that what looked like a mile of open savannah was a maze of gullies and bushy clumps. I was in East Africa for real; all alone and unarmed and, yes, it was humbling, but it was also exhilarating and primeval. I was a potential prey item; definitely not a predator. I loved that. All the same, I retraced my steps as though I had entered a minefield.

Hanna

After a week in the Mara, we drove north to Lake Nakuru to stay at Lion Hill Camp. It was our first proper taste of luxury camping with proper sinks and showers in our tents which were on a terrace. It was cool up there at night and in the day, it was like looking down from an aeroplane. We saw more flamingos than you could ever dream of; a pink tide of feathers. You just could not focus on that many birds and so you looked between them to see tiny waders, pigmy kingfishers and bigger blacksmith plovers, stilts, egrets and avocets. I remember hearing leopards and baboons arguing at night and seeing large Defassa waterbuck in the marshes.

Two days wasn't enough to explore all of Nakuru. Looking back, we could have spent a week there, getting to know all the birds and mammals. But we had promised ourselves to celebrate Nico's birthday in a very special place further north.

We stopped in Nakuru market to repair a door on our vehicle, but the town was full of soldiers and we felt unwelcome there. As soon as the welders had done their job, we set off on a day-long slog that would leave the green hills of Nakuru behind and take us past Lake Bogoria to Baringo. In places, flash-floods had torn the road away, leaving rubble-strewn gullies behind. In one such gully we saw quite a large tortoise. We also passed a few wrecked vehicles; this was not mini-bus country.

Flamingos at Lake Nakuru

Kenya used to be a British Colony and they still drive on the left, mostly. When we were cruising along, I noticed that Emma was often on the wrong side of the road and that she liked to go fast. She explained that the "ribbles" made by rolling wheels in the wet earth were smoother if you travelled against them. It also helped if you went fast enough to iron them out. If the road was dry and dusty you would raise a cloud of dust that would choke you if you slowed down.

Nakuru market.

When we met another vehicle, we would bounce across to our side of the road and Emma would put her flat hand against the windscreen in some form of salute. Actually, this was to protect her face in case a stone flew up and smashed the windscreen. Apparently it happens a lot. That salute soon became a habit for me too.