If it’s Tuesday, this must be Tanzania

Thursday, February 8 to Monday, February 12:

Picture yourself standing up in an open-roofed Land Rover, the warm breeze on your face as you bounce along off-road for miles and miles, surrounded by hundreds of thousands of wildebeest migrating from the Serengeti, in Tanzania, to the Masai Mara, in Kenya, in search of water. You watch hyenas at a watering hole and one of them takes off in pursuit of a baby Thompson gazelle; two adult gazelles run crisscross in front of the hyena in an attempt to throw it off track, but in the end, the baby tires and the hyena takes in down in two mouthfuls.

You see zebras, giraffes, and impalas grazing next to a group of a dozen ostriches lined up in single file, parading across the plains. You hear the songs of the tiny yellow weaver birds and overhead you see African fish eagles soaring. And for hours while you drive, you do not see another vehicle or any human presence.

And then you see him: Simba, the king of the jungle, the majestic male lion with his golden mane, lounging by the edge of a small pond. You park, not more than 10 feet from him, watching him while he watches you.

After some time, you decide to move on. Your driver turns the key: click – nothing happens. Again: click –but no ignition. Click, click, click, oh shit, click, click, click.

And thus, the second day of our safari with Scan Tan Tours took a turn for the worse. Eventually, we managed to shoo the lion away (“Please go away Mr. Lion, please”), so Peter, our driver-guide, could get out of the car and use a metal rod to bang on parts of the engine in a seemingly indiscriminate way, while Mimi kept trying the key. Laurel, to her credit, diagnosed the problem as the solenoid¸ and eventually either Peter’s banging or Mimi’s key-turning did the trick, and we were off again (and did not turn the car off until we made it back to camp that evening).

We kept driving and came upon a group of five more lions with a freshly-killed zebra. Although initially a bit squeamish on seeing (and hearing) the lions rip first through the zebra’s flesh and then turn to its internal organs, we became comfortable enough with the scene to eat our box lunches while watching the lions eat theirs. And we were not alone: the scavengers, including vultures, Marabou storks (quite possibly the ugliest birds on earth), and hyenas, ringed the lions, waiting for their turn at the carcass once the lions were done.

Click on the photo below for the movie version.

We ended the day by cruising through a herd of migrating zebras, thousands of them grouped in twos and threes facing back-to-back, resting heads on shoulders to keep a look-out for predators.

And to cap off a perfect day on safari, we happened upon a pride of lions, with a male and female and two adorable cubs.

The next day, we took an early morning game drive in the Ngorogoro Crater, an enormous caldera, which is all that is left of a mountain that was likely larger than Kilimanjaro. Although the animals were not as plentiful as they had been the day before, we added one cheetah and two rhinos to our list.

Having spent three days sitting in the car, we were ready for a bit of exercise. Peter took us to E Unoto Retreat, a high-end resort with beautiful bungalows overlooking a remote lake, and set us up with a local guide for a picturesque, but very muddy, hike to a waterfall. By the time we got back to our campsite, we were hot, sweaty, and covered with mud from the knees down. Peter jumped out of the vehicle, announcing to the staff as well as to about two dozen German tourists: “These two mamas need a cold beer before they die.”

The next day, our last on safari, we visited Lake Manyara National Park, where we saw troops of baboons playing, grooming each other, and swinging from tree to tree. And while we had seen a handful of elephants in the other parks, here we saw a herd of 20-25 including several babies. Finally, a flock of thousands of pink flamingos graced the alkaline lake in the middle of the park.

Back at L’Oasis Hotel, a charming little lodge just outside of town, we took a dip in the pool. The hotel’s resident crested crane stood at the edge of the pool watching his reflection. We later learned his very sad story: Like all crested cranes, he had had a mate, but she died after jumping from a bungalow and breaking her wing. Since that time, he spends most of his lonely days gazing at his own reflection in the pool or in the bungalow windows.