PhilHydePhotos: A Fortnight in the Wild: Chapter 2

Into the Serengeti

We had spent our last night in Arusha in luxury. The next would be to slum it in a tent. At our age! For heaven's sake! Albeit a tent with giant double bed, chemical toilet, bucket shower and anti-lion artillery. We sure knew how to slum it.

Previous Chapter here: In Arusha

That morning we were driven to the Arusha airstrip where we awaited our doom.

and were squeezed like toothpaste into a motorised sardine-can on steroids. What better way to see the Serengeti than to plunge fearlessly headlong into it...

As we descended rapidly towards the final airstrip (first checking that it was devoid of elephants) we were to get our first sight of the river that would be central to our lives over the next couple of weeks.

The Mara.

We landed in one well-shaken piece onto the airstrip, otherwise known as a relatively flat piece of land relatively free of relatively large flora and fauna.

After thanking our relevant deities for a safe landing, we immediately set off to cross that famous river that we had spied from above.

Contrary to the advice of the vast majority of local wildlife, we decided not to use the eons-old technique of wading across in our sandals. We instead used a low concrete crossing, notably lacking in giant gaping jaws.

Recent droughts had lowered the river to a comfortable knee-high level. This, in theory, should make it easier for the migration to pass through. As long as you don't value your knees...

Before that, more on the local weather conditions...

South of the river the vast grasslands of the Serengeti and beyond were becoming super dry. The millions strong herds of wildebeest (a.k.a. gnus) and their close buddies the zebra had been busy scoffing it all, exactly as seen in most curry restaurants. Little was left of any nutritional value, so the giant herds sought greener pastures. Unfortunately these lay further north, following the rains now visible in the Masai Mara, the other side of the Mara river. It is quite possible that when this giant migration first evolved, the Mara river simply wasn't there. It formed along with the Rift Valley as the tectonic plates spread apart. Initially easy to cross, it has become more and more difficult, forcing the wildebeest to evolve techniques for crossing it. These techniques mainly involve running in a mad panic at full tilt and hang the consequences.

Even as we safely crossed the Mara by bridge (something maybe the herds should try) we could see the effect of the, as yet, sparse rains.

As can be seen, the grass here is long and somewhat greenish. Spotting the zebras is easy (they don't actually have spots), but other creatures could prove to be much more difficult to see. How wrong we were.

We had hit the sweet spot.

Trips like this are planned many months, if not years, ahead. Effectively we had planned this trip three years ago, only to be foiled by sub-microscopic strands of RNA. The Great Migration has no such plan. It is chaos theory incarnate. When it hits the Mara is subject to hugely varying variables.

We were there just as the migration was to hit the Mara in full force.

Some of these millions of wildebeest had arrived before us. Some had already crossed the mighty Mara. They were to be seen nearly everywhere. Walking dinner for the teeming predators.

In the distance can be seen smoke. Smoke was everywhere.

More of this later...

The first of the predators we came across, just 40 minutes after starting our search, was this guy...

He was there with his brother.

We had seen these two with another brother, now deceased, several years ago as they hunted and killed a wildebeest. This time they only wanted sleep.

Thus we left them in peace, in search of a space to take our lunch.

The shelter of trees may seem like a good idea, but here be tsetse flies. These little buggers can bite even through clothing. And they hurt. Added to this, Annick seems to have developed an allergy to them and started to develop lumps wherever they bit. I presume sleeping sickness would have no visible affect on me...

We decided against butchering the local wildlife. This is how tough it gets out there in the savannah...

Circling overhead, appropriately, were the ubiquitous marabou storks, close acquaintances and equally ugly partners, of the vultures...

Moving on, we soon spotted some elephants' bottoms...

It was time to move our bottoms towards our camp for the next few nights. This meant heading back over the Mara.

Here: a sign of things to come...

Hunger could be smelled in the air...

It is not uncommon to see crocs with bits missing.

Which begs the question, what takes a bite out of a bloody great crocodile?

Not these guys:

Although they are responsible for huge amounts of poops...

Thus we headed towards our new home, looking forward to a warm shower (two and a half buckets for Annick, half a bucket for me...) and some filling of the belly (solids and fluids).

Our aim was to head for a sundowner drink and shoot the sun fantastic before hitting the sack.

We were delayed.

Almost every night we were delayed.

We had just passed some banded mongooses...