And memorable moments they were. We flew into Nairobi early Friday morning, and hopped a cab from Jomo Kenyatta International Airport to the much more, shall we say, “character-filled” Wilson Airport. Wilson is nothing like an airport in any traditional sense of the word. It’s effectively 20+ hangers on an airstrip, each with a branded puddle-jumper and a handful of only the most essential employees. We, for example, had one guy who checked us in, rounded us up, piled us in a minivan, drove us from the counter to the hanger, led us to the plane, donned a vest, directed the plane in, and loaded our bags into the undercarriage. We were a little surprised he didn’t jump in the captain’s seat. Carla and I giddily climbed aboard a Safarilink 12-seater that flew us over miles and miles of grassland and game in the shining sun and dropped us off into – quite literally – the middle of nowhere. Our "airstrip:"
Friday was one of those perfect days where you’re simply beside yourself. The glee that started with our plane ride continued when we saw our tent. For some reason that we still don’t understand, our travel agent had to upgrade our accommodation in order to get flights on the days we needed. Mara Intrepids’ tent #7 had a hardwood floor, a deck, electricity, “hers and hers” sinks (flanked by a stone shower on one side and a stone bathroom on the other), and four-post beds with mosquito nets that tripled as canopies and dust ruffles. Ahhh, luxury.
On our afternoon game drive, every animal we saw – no matter how big or small, ugly or elegant, agile or awkward – brought forth happy squeals. Warthogs! Impala! Topi! Buffalo! Elephants! Ostrich! Crested cranes! Giraffes! Hippos! Crocs! A sunny day plus expansive savannah with unrivaled wildlife equals one of world’s best natural highs.
Friday night Carla and I starred in a Masai cultural show, albeit by coercion rather than choice. This involved some bending over, some rhythmic walking, some clapping, and some rigid leaping. Fortunately, it was low season in the Mara, which not only meant a break on the price of the trip, but an audience of two.
The service, by the way, was impeccable, the food gourmet. They turned down our beds every night and put hot water bottles between the sheets. In the mornings, they brought tea, coffee and biscuits to our tent for our wake up call. We had four-course meals and hot coals placed by our table for added warmth.
Saturday morning, the lion hunt was on. No more of this elephant, giraffe, hippo business. We were in it for the real deal. Rather than going back to the lodge in between game drives, we opted for a bush breakfast in order to up our chances of an encounter.
Despite high hopes, dedicated spotters and superstitious mutterings, the lion sighting was not meant to be. We did, however, see some zebra and stumble across the most confused of confused rhinos. Rhinos are apparently solitary, shy, near blind, and easily befuddled as a species, but ours seemed to have a special knack for folly. Sensing our presence, it tried to run away. However, it “ran” precisely parallel to the path of the vehicle, almost as if some sort of magnetic force were keeping it with us, when, in fact, we were trying to leave. Every once in awhile it would stop, turn, continue turning…and run again in the same direction that we were going. Oh, rhinos.
In the absence of any cat connections by mid-morning, Carla and I decided to create our own. See the menacing beast lurking in the grass below. I also made my debut as a topi, on careful watch for any predators. The resemblance is uncanny.
On our afternoon game drive, every animal we saw – no matter how big or small, ugly or elegant, agile or awkward – brought forth happy squeals. Warthogs! Impala! Topi! Buffalo! Elephants! Ostrich! Crested cranes! Giraffes! Hippos! Crocs! A sunny day plus expansive savannah with unrivaled wildlife equals one of world’s best natural highs.
Friday night Carla and I starred in a Masai cultural show, albeit by coercion rather than choice. This involved some bending over, some rhythmic walking, some clapping, and some rigid leaping. Fortunately, it was low season in the Mara, which not only meant a break on the price of the trip, but an audience of two.
The service, by the way, was impeccable, the food gourmet. They turned down our beds every night and put hot water bottles between the sheets. In the mornings, they brought tea, coffee and biscuits to our tent for our wake up call. We had four-course meals and hot coals placed by our table for added warmth.
Saturday morning, the lion hunt was on. No more of this elephant, giraffe, hippo business. We were in it for the real deal. Rather than going back to the lodge in between game drives, we opted for a bush breakfast in order to up our chances of an encounter.
Despite high hopes, dedicated spotters and superstitious mutterings, the lion sighting was not meant to be. We did, however, see some zebra and stumble across the most confused of confused rhinos. Rhinos are apparently solitary, shy, near blind, and easily befuddled as a species, but ours seemed to have a special knack for folly. Sensing our presence, it tried to run away. However, it “ran” precisely parallel to the path of the vehicle, almost as if some sort of magnetic force were keeping it with us, when, in fact, we were trying to leave. Every once in awhile it would stop, turn, continue turning…and run again in the same direction that we were going. Oh, rhinos.
In the absence of any cat connections by mid-morning, Carla and I decided to create our own. See the menacing beast lurking in the grass below. I also made my debut as a topi, on careful watch for any predators. The resemblance is uncanny.
After our disappointing morning, we returned to the lodge for some pool lounging and lunch overindulgence. Re-energized, we set off again in hot pursuit of manes and prides. This time, we were met with success. Less than 30 minutes into the drive, Raphael (our guide) and Steven (fellow American safarier), caught a glimpse of a lioness atop a grassy knoll. We bolted over, and took picture after picture of two cubs and their mama.
Ten minutes after leaving our beloved lions, we found ourselves with a very flat tire. While Raphael expertly worked to replace the flat with the inflated, Carla stood on a grassy knoll, binoculars to eyes, on the lookout for any approaching friends or foes. Steven provided manly supervision…while I helpfully documented our predicament.
Post-flat, we spied our lone wildebeest. Around July/August every year, millions of wildebeests migrate north in search of fresh pasture, then migrate back to the Serengeti around October. This fellow was either too old, too weak, or too chicken to make the trek, and thus found himself hanging out with a bunch of topi.
The animal highlight of the trip for me was at the end of our afternoon game drive on Saturday, in the midst of rain, dampened spirits, and rumbling stomachs. Steven and Raphael spotted a cheetah in the waving grass. How they saw her, I still have no idea. We got as close as close could be…and saw that the she was in the process of moving her two, very young cubs across the terrain. Too young to cover much ground on their own, she would pick one up by the scruff of the neck, carry it a few meters, set it down, and go back for the other. Except the other had tried to scamper away while waiting, so she’d have to search for that one, calling out affectionately. And of course while looking for that one, the first would waddle away. We all sat, entranced at the tenderness and inefficiency of the process. Even Raphael, who has guided these tours for the last seven years, took pictures.
It was baby season in general in the Mara. We watched the funniest baby elephant, less than a month old, struggle with how to use its trunk. He exhibited a considerable amount of uncoordinated yet intoxicating trunk flailing. We also saw a mom and a newborn baby impala (Raphael guessed less than an hour old) – both of which Carla so graphically pointed out were still bloody.
Apparently, Saturday’s flat tire wasn’t enough in terms of vehicle mishaps, so Sunday we got stuck in the mud. As in, stuck in the mud. Steven, Carla and I got out to help rock the vehicle back and forth while Raphael put it in drive, put it in reverse, put it in drive, put it in reverse. Unfortunately, this strategy got us nowhere but muddier. Raphael radioed to a nearby lodge for towing assistance – just before having the MacGyver-like brainstorm to raise one side of the car and pile rocks underneath the troubled tire. Nothing like a little mud and sweat to complete your safari.
Before we knew it, Sunday afternoon had arrived. While dismayed at the thought of leaving, the flight out of the Mara was just as entertaining as the flight in. As the passenger closest to the pilot, I had the honor of tapping him on the shoulder mid-taxi in order to draw his attention to…the man running after the plane. Forgotten passenger. Landing back at Wilson took two tries. We were mere meters above the ground when the pilot pulled back and we rose again, narrowly avoiding…the other plane on the runway.
Apparently, Saturday’s flat tire wasn’t enough in terms of vehicle mishaps, so Sunday we got stuck in the mud. As in, stuck in the mud. Steven, Carla and I got out to help rock the vehicle back and forth while Raphael put it in drive, put it in reverse, put it in drive, put it in reverse. Unfortunately, this strategy got us nowhere but muddier. Raphael radioed to a nearby lodge for towing assistance – just before having the MacGyver-like brainstorm to raise one side of the car and pile rocks underneath the troubled tire. Nothing like a little mud and sweat to complete your safari.
Before we knew it, Sunday afternoon had arrived. While dismayed at the thought of leaving, the flight out of the Mara was just as entertaining as the flight in. As the passenger closest to the pilot, I had the honor of tapping him on the shoulder mid-taxi in order to draw his attention to…the man running after the plane. Forgotten passenger. Landing back at Wilson took two tries. We were mere meters above the ground when the pilot pulled back and we rose again, narrowly avoiding…the other plane on the runway.
As usual, more pictures are up on http://picasaweb.google.com/jen.orkis.
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2 comments:
Wow! What an amazing trip! The pictures are beautiful. This coming weekend is Mitch's graduation. We'll miss you! They may be missing ME if I don't find an open flight pretty soon. Wish me luck!!! Love, Aunt Linda
You lead an exciting life. What fun seeing all the wildlife. Today on a hike we saw deer, prairie dogs, and a vulture. can't compare to your adventures.
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