Late breakfast under Kilimanjaro – the snow-capped peak clear of clouds and shining in the sun.
Climbed into the cab with Adri and Ben as we drove on, the road very busy with safari vans overtaking us in clouds of dust and a few coming in the other direction. Strong wind blew the dust off the road so we didn’t have to wait too long before we could see far enough to safely continue. Kamba villages lined the roads, many of them almost hidden behind the thorn-tree walls of their enclosures. We saw numerous distinctive robed figures herding cattle or just walking along our bumpy route. Kamba look very similar to Maasai except they mix other colours with their red robes. Many men in red and white and some of the women in a variety of colours including bright blues. The further we went the more touristy it was, with huge displays of souvenirs including spears like Ben’s, shields, colourful beaded jewellery to catch the attention of moneyed tourists.
The terrain changed slowly into rubbly hills peppered with piles of boulders, forcing the road to twist up and around. One area was thick with trees bearing pale yellow wattle-like flowers that gave off a sweet smell that reminded me of honeysuckle. We crossed a black lava flow, spewed from a mountain on our left, the black stream having covered a huge area; bright green stood out against the dark crust here and there, trees that had somehow survived the extreme heat. We got a spectacular view over the flow, buckled and cracked into gaping holes and slanted slabs, to the rich green of the valley and the rugged hills behind.
A sign announced that we were in Savo West National Park before we came to the official gate.
We saw far less game than in Amboseli; Savo was more heavily treed and the animals we did see were very shy and moved away quickly. But we spotted kori bustard, elephants, superb starlings, multicoloured acrobatic rollers (birds), a few waterbuck, Grants gazelle, fringe-eared oryx, a secretary bird, and a pride of lions stretched out on a rock, the adult and several tiny cubs moving away at our approach. The elephants were bright red from the rich volcanic soil, a strange sight after the more traditional grey ones we've seen. One youngster was quietly eating on his own a long way from the nearest adults up the valley.
Stopped and lunched in and out of the rain before we stopped briefly at Kilaguni Lodge (now Kilaguni Serena Safari Lodge), which must have one of the most spectacular bars in Africa: an open-air lounge overlooking a plain, with central waterholes. The trees were thick with birds, the superb starlings a shimmering metallic blue/purple in the light, landing on the stone wall in front of us and feeding from a large bowl of seeds. Enormous marabou storks sauntered around below us and flew above, their huge wings flapping like in a slow-motion replay. Rich red elephants on the far side of the valley were accompanied by a herd of red deer, but they kept away from the water during our all-too-brief viewing. It was like a huge amphitheatre of African wildlife, I could have sat in that armchair and watched the spread before me for hours, with the roof occasionally releasing rain drops like a curtain.
Driving on, we saw a couple of huge herds of elephant, one with lots of youngsters and a couple of tiny ones, barely visible among the packed bodies.
A major signed road to Savo Gate via the river rapidly deteriorated into a rarely used track following fast-flowing brown water. We forced Stanley through narrow breaks in thorn trees, huge branches of thorns crashing into the truck windows and tearing the recently repaired plastic windows, ants, leaves and twigs showering in on us. Had to saw off several branches hanging too low for the nesters; broke a spring leaf with an almighty whack while fording a dry riverbed we’d built up with rocks; had to sandmat across a wide bed of soft sand, the edges of what was left of a bridge crumbling under our weight before we made it across. Glimpsed a hippo’s nose in the river before we lurched into a runoff rut - that was when I put my book down, realising there was more adventure outside than on the pages. Things became even more dramatic as we ploughed on through needly thorn trees without finding the main road. A thorn tree branch released too soon by others hit the back of Geoffrey’s knee, leaving his leg looking like he'd been hit by a shotgun blast. Tempers flared, and people started blaming others for our predicament when we needed to accept our situation and collectively work out the best way forward.
We finally called it a night when another superficial, damaged bridge proved insufficient for Stanley; it wasn't worth risking crossing sand mats on stones with one spring gone already. Camped with the prospects of horrible dehydes-only dinner, scrapings for breakfast and a bridge to repair in the morning, without any idea of the conditions ahead.
Those of us with some sense of humour left joked about our holiday on the beach. We hoped that we were close enough to the main road to hear cars but only sound was the odd plane overhead, and the river water.
Add comment
Comments