Masai Mara, Aug. 14

Up, Up and Away

Way back in 1967, The 5^th Dimension inquired, “Would you like to ride in my beautiful balloon?”  Nearly sixty years on, I’ll answer with a resounding YES, with an exclamation point:

Just before sunrise yesterday, ten of us rose gently into the cool air over the Masai Mara, piloted by an ebullient Turk named Serkan.   

We drifted, silent (at least in the intervals between firing the flame to control the balloon’s temperature) and weightless. 

Below us, hundreds of zebras, wildebeest, antelopes, and warthogs went about their morning routines.  From high up, they resembled dots on a green and brown radar screen; from lower down the individual animals resolved, sometimes grazing in ones and twos and sometimes billowing across the savanna like a single, amoeba-like organism.

As we descended, we passed vultures lurking in a treetop and Kenya’s national bird, the Lilac-Breasted Roller, perched on the end of a branch.

The sky was sprinkled with other balloons, each one captive to the gentle breeze.  Streams glittered as they meandered into the distance, their banks thick with bushes and trees.

When we touched down after an hour, I was simultaneously exhilarated and serene.  I was also hungry; fortunately, the experience included a full English breakfast and champagne, enabling us to graze in parallel with our four-legged neighbors.

I’ll have an opportunity to do another hot air balloon ride next May, when I’m in Cappadocia, Turkey.  I can’t wait!

The Game is Afoot!

As we left the landing area, thousands of wildebeest and zebras streamed single-file toward the Mara River.  

On our way to the river, we passed a noisy herd of hippos. (A hippo’s grunt sounds like Lou Rawls doing a pig imitation – though given that hippos are hard to miss, “You’ll Never Find” would be a better theme song for leopards.)

If you’ve ever watched a nature documentary about the Great Migration, you’ve seen the Mara River:  it’s the place where crocodiles drag unfortunate crossers under the water and big cats skulk in the tall grass on the opposite bank waiting to pick off the old, the young, and the lame. 

The crocodiles were there, including the biggest one I’ve ever seen.  The tall grass was there, possibly hiding lions lying in wait.  The would-be river crossers were there, in lines stretching for many hundreds of meters. 

The will to cross, alas, was MIA.  We spent three hours watching one zebra or another begin to descend toward the river – the crossing always is led by zebras – only to have a change of heart. 

Wildebeests milled around mooing, waiting for direction from the zebras. 

Wildebeests, by the way, are part of the “Ugly 5” – the other members are warthogs, hyenas, Marabou storks, and Lappet-faced vultures – and it’s a well-deserved honor.  (Perhaps they make up for it with sparkling personalities.) Our guide, Edwin, said the story is that the wildebeest was the last animal created by God, who used whatever spare parts were available.   

Whatever their physical quirks, it’s a design that works.  As many as 2 million wildebeest migrate each year between Masai Mara and the Serengeti, plunging their way across the Mara River.  Except for yesterday.

I’ll close this section by recounting the goings-on among my fellow travelers before we decided to give up and head back to the lodge.  It started when I heard the strains of “The Waiting Is the Hardest Part” coming from Bob’s phone.  (Bob is the gentleman I mentioned a couple of posts ago who likes to play tunes suiting the sights.)  My brother-in-law, Eric, then chimed in with “Should I Stay or Should I Go” and “Many Rivers to Cross.”  And, since nothing was happening in real life, Bob’s brother-in-law, Andy, suggested we just “Imagine.”  These are my kind of people!

Catch Me If You Can

Following a late lunch, we set off on our final game drive, hoping to spot a leopard in the hills behind our lodge.  We saw the entirety of many animals, including giraffes, Cape buffalo, and zebras.

We even managed to see parts of a leopard – “I think that’s a tail”; “That’s the front leg, maybe”; “It’s moving.  Or it might be facing the other way” – that was hiding in some shrubs hoping to ambush a nearby impala.  Consistent with the day’s theme, we watched and waited, and watched and waited some more.  Two nearby giraffes had noticed the leopard, and the impala also was aware of it but seemed unconcerned.  After an hour of inaction it was nearly dinner time, for us if not for the leopard.

In the fading light of another glorious sunset, we returned to the lodge for the last night of this amazing safari.