We drop gear for camp and take lunch at the only public camping option on the rim: Simba Camp 2. An enormous ficus tree stands and in the middle of the camp grounds, and at least seven zebras are grazing. I get within metres from the new foals and almost get kicked taking a picture of them.
In a six seater land Rover type jeep, we drive down the dusty road, past the Ethiopian Candelabra cactus and my first sightings of Superb starlings, to the crater floor. Trees are hung with Weaver bird nests, the dry grasses a contrast to stream side greens. Immediately, gazelles leap by the herds of wildebeests. I'm in awe. Matteus cracks a joke: what do you call a heard of wildebeests? A paper of gnus!
The light is luscious. Zebras, wildebeests, Thompson's gazelles, Grant's gazelles, cape buffalo. A golden jackal sneaks around like an fox. Later we see a black backed jackal, who wore a spotted cape. A spotted hyena was snacking on a leg of something. The pack were playing in the water's edge. Flamingos in the distance, at the edge of the salt pool.
I ask Anold to stop when I see a large bird beside the jeep. "Horny bastard!" I swear that's what he said. Matteus heard the same thing. But when I look up again at him, he's got the leather covered Birds of East Africa opened to the picture of the Kori Bustard. Oh. When the ostrich strides by, I keep thinking of the feathers on the ritualised Maasai boys we saw near Kartuga. Boys in all black, with ghost white patterns on their faces, ostrich feathers tucked at their brow. The pink skin on the neck and legs of ostrich like goose bumps. Thighs so strong, you know this bird, no matter how big, can out run anything in this crater.
The safari guides are on CB radio, communicating details of wildlife to see. The crackle of Kiswahili is soft, and unclear. Could even be in code. We head towards some mounds, rolling hills with sandy coloured grasses. The huddle of Jeeps makes it clear we've joined this pack on purpose.
I'm not lying when I tell you I was surprised. I really didn't think we'd see them at all. Two male lions, in the shade of the rear bumper of one Jeep, and a male and female mating pair, just beside us on the road.
We watched them all closely for at a long while. The male mounted the female three times. Anold told us they will go at it every fifteen minutes. If there are no results of a pregnancy within a week, she'll be available again. We also watched him move and mark his territory. The two nearby males just napped. Like cats like naps.
Total we'd see 8 lions. Four more females, in three separate groups. One nala perched on a hill top near the bathrooms. "You mean I can get out of the car?!" I asked. "Go quickly." I'd say.
But the day went quickly, and Jeeps must leave the crater floor by six pm. They lock the gate on the accent road, and demand a fee of you are late. The accent road is recently paved, and we reach the rim with time to spare.
At dinner we share stories of wows and wonders with other travelers. The two expat women from Turkey and Canada who were teaching English in Dubai were fun. We sat near them at long cement topped tables under the picnic shelter. Each tour group laying out their own Maasai blanket table cloth to mark the space. Hundreds of us dined like summer camp, or a Harry Potter feast. We pulled on hats, and jackets, sipped tea to warm up in the cool night. By 8:30, in the cloudy darkness, I crawled into the tent to dream.
No comments:
Post a Comment