This morning was legitimately cold. The elevation and something about the crater cools
this land significantly. As we approached the entrance of the crater, fog surrounded our vehicle. (Bonny stopped at the ‘viewpoint’ as we ascended for us to see nothing further than our windows. He chuckled.) The fog was slow to lift – playing peek-a-boo with the crater below, we were still in awe.
Continuing on to the Oldupai gorge – we would go down to the crater later, Bonny assured us as we gawked at the view. (“Everything is beautiful,” he said as we commented on the beauty for the 34th time this morning. “Well, you get used to it.”) The greenness and the fog remind me of the Scotland countryside – only bigger! And with goats, not sheep.
We bump our way through the dusty land. Baboons and elephants and ostrich and giraffe and gazelle and zebra show up along the way. The views are breathtaking – or maybe that's the dust choking me up; no, it’s the view for sure. The mountains plunge into the valleys of flat land. Trees are short with flat tops. Bushes and grass are scattered across the dirt and gravel. The Masai herd their cattle – often in solitary. Their solitude is enviable – though it is largely men in this role. The men have a distinctive walk – a strong bounce w
ith long strides – as they cross the countryside with confidence. Lions will not be found with Masai nearby, Bonny tells us.
We finally arrive at the gorge, after a pit stop on the roadside for Aja and Jessica. The gorge holds its beauty in the layers of time portrayed in its rocks. Black, red, gray – lifetimes each. Bones and history. (I will say that some of the fossils seem less like elephant bones and more like plain ol’ rocks . . .)
Onward to the Masai boma (village). They welcomed us with a dance – men and women in separate circles jumping and making celebratory noises. They invited us to join them and the children took part as well. The vibrant colors of Masai style and the joyous dance were b
eautiful (yes, Bonny, beautiful). Our Masai guide, Michael (really?), told us that 126 people live in this boma. They are all related – all sons of the chief and their many wives and children. The children, again, are wonderful. They sang for us at their school and smiled for our pictures. Their small huts (made of wood and cow dung) house families of five, with two beds and a fire for cooking. Striking images – so many children sick; so many flies; the strength of these people to survive and thrive, really; the independence of the people and the children; the talent – for art, for husbandry, for living; the separation of genders yet again; the bright colors of the Masai against the blue sky and mountainous horizon.
And finally, the Ngorongoro crater. I mean, wow. The view of the crater is jaw dropping-ly awesome – the colors, the mountains, the seeming abyss. From here, no distinct forms of life are visible – no animals, no particular plants. Simply watercolors melding together. As we descend into the crater, wildebeest and zebra begin to appear. (But let’s be honest, we were searching for the big cats.) Ostrich, guinea fowl, gazelle. Buffalo, antelope, flamingos (in the salt lake – super cool – add a white layer for the salt deposits along with the pink, blue, and gray of the midday sunset fr
om yesterday). To our amazement, hyena were lounging with the buffalo in peace. (Hyenas are apparently scavengers.) Hippos, eagles. Eagles, btw, huge!
Where are our cats?
A safari truck ahead of us said they saw a cheetah – ooh, ooh, ooh. We wait and search to no avail. More buffalo and birds. There are fewer animals now; this is a good sign – big cats frighten away prey. We search the tall grass and trees until my eyes are blurry. “Stop!” Aja shouts. “Go back, go back!” She’s nearly squealing and jumping. “Lions by the road!” (No, we think she’s only seen rocks.) Bonny pulls back the vehicle and voila! three sleeping lions on the edge of the road. Two are snuggled together, as cats do. They do not budge on our arrival. They are flat and completely zonked out in the afternoon sun. Outside of one covering her face with her paw to keep the sun away, they continue to snore. (Did I mention that we are parked maybe three yards away with our top open? A-mazing.) We sit and stare at their size and beauty – the ears and paws and tails! Big cats!
We are now content, but still search for the rest of the pride. And sure enough, we find several more females with four cubs. And not far from that, two males. All “kissing the pillow” as Bonny says. Afternoon cat naps with little acknowledgment of the vehicles creeping toward them. We snap pictures and wait for them to lift their heads and look toward us. Our excitement is palpable. These are the best animals – we understand why they are king
. We could stay forever, but the park closes in an hour. The zoo holds nothing on animals in the wild. You should definitely be here. It is worth every penny, every minute, any risk of physical harm you think you take getting here.
On our way out, an eagle, a jackal (who stares at us from a distance), another gorgeous lion met us. And the view of the crater.
The day ended with elephants at the lodge entrance, the most volcanic red sunset through the clouds over the crater, and good conversation with Jessica over ‘Serengeti’ beer. This sunset was magical, but then I am a sucker for a good sunset. And now, falling asleep to sounds of animals I can’t identify with a hot water bottle in my bed to keep me warm. Ah, pretty amazing.
(Update: Michellee has the flu or malaria and feels much better after the meds. Karen has dysentery and is still unwell. She stayed at the hotel today.)
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