21: Arusha to Ngorogoro (Tanzania)

Pictures Here:

Week 21 Update:

Arusha, Tarangire NP, Lake Manyara NP, Ngorogoro Conservation Area.

Day 141:

One very peaceful night’s sleep later, it was time to drag ourselves out of bed and head to Arusha Toyota. The reception lady told us that they opened at 8am. Being in Africa and adapting to its ways, we arrived at 9am after a surprisingly hot shower in a surprisingly clean and nice bathroom next to a surprisingly massive bar at the Masai Camp.

It was agreed that a mechanic would inspect the vehicle, check on a number things and then give us an estimate cost from which we could decide what work to ask for. This was said to take 30 minutes, so we nestled into comfy leather chairs with our coffee in thermos mugs and flipped open computer screens for some admin catching up. Half an hour rolled by with the only change being that a French couple who lived in Arusha joined us in the customer lounge, awaiting their half an hour promise of a quotation. By 12:00 I was hungry and convinced that the three hours we had spent there had to be enough to check the car out and give us an estimate. Just as I got up to make a friendly enquiry, the service receptionist handed me a piece of paper.

At first I thought it was very reasonable. They proposed to replace the leaking windscreen that was fitted on the streets of Lusaka in Zambia, professionally weld the leaking exhaust (Yes, it was leaking again), replace the timing belt and stuff that goes with it (This was actually only a quarter through its life, but as the warning light had come on at 300 000km, they automatically quoted for this) and give the old girl an oil service complete with new fuel, oil and air filters. What I almost missed was the extra digit in the amount, totalling R38 000.00 (About $4 500). I tried not to laugh, honest. We opted for the exhaust to be fixed and the service to be done for a reasonable R2 500 ($320) thinking that we could afford a few tubes of silicone to stop the windscreen from leaking for the remaining money.

The French couple suggested a place called “Africa Café” for lunch and told us that they offered free Wifi. It was also only a short walk away from Toyota and next to the Tourism Board who could answer some questions for us. Right by the door to the café we bumped into Neville, the Biker who had been following us, and had a good chat and a laugh about our respective adventures in the two weeks since we saw each other. We were shown to a table inside and handed a menu. For the second time that day I tried not to laugh. The prices were horrendous! I did some quick math on two hours worth of wifi for two computers and decided that we could order something small and abuse as much of the bandwidth as we could. While ordering I turned the computer on and asked the waiter about Internet use. He smiled and told me that they did not offer Wifi at all, but some people apparently get lucky sometime and manage to connect to the unsecured networks of the offices around them.

MMmmm. With that news I asked to cancel the order with the plan to go back to the Patisserie for cheap wholesome food and inexpensive internet. The waiter was having none of this and told me that as I had already ordered, I would have to pay anyway. So standing up, packing up and trying not to laugh for the third time that day I told the manager that we had no intention of staying or paying… We simply walked out.

On the way to the Patisserie we were mobbed by a million and a half touts trying to sell us cheap safaris, maps of Tanzania and pretty much anything else you can think of that we did not need at all. Fortunately it seemed like the patisserie proprietor took no such non sense in his place of business and we were left in peace to go inside. It was a cold and miserable day outside, so we ordered two helpings of vegetable soup and a massive Swiss bread to go with it. It was delicious!

Two hours later, internetted up, bellies full and warm from the soup and coffee we paid less than lunch alone would have been at Africa House and went on our way in search of the elusive US$. I found it bizarre that it was made so difficult in a country where the government did not accept their own currency as payment. Allegedly Barkley’s bank accepted VISA cards as payments for currency, but apparently their VISA machine had been broken for a while. So we literally had to draw cash in Shillings from an ATM and then walk into a Bureau De Change to exchange into $ where the rate for small bills was better than large bills. (Go figure) We were told that we could pay all our park entrance fees by VISA debit card at the gates but we had also learnt that neither Ethiopia nor Sudan seemed to have any currency in their countries. We heard that Rwanda’s ATMs only accept local cards as well, so we really needed to start building up a stash of $’s for three countries and with the ATM limits being what they were, we could only get about $600 a day.

Toyota told us that Maggie would be ready by 16:30, which we obviously did not believe, but strolled into the comfy customer lounge around that time. The TV was showing ancient re runs of “24” with Keither Sutherland which ended around 17:30 and the arrival of the bill. I paid the cashier, filled in the exit book at the gate and walked into the workshop to find Maggie’s bonnet open, spanners all over the place and three mechanics hard at work. A u-turn later saw Catt and I sitting on the steps outside the reception area, watching the bulk of the staff close up and leave for the weekend. I did briefly see Maggie’s nose poke out from the workshop before another security guard closed the gate and then saw someone with a pressure washer tending to the months old dust. We eventually received a clean, serviced car just after 18:00 and headed back to Masai camp, exhausted!

It was Friday night and I fully expected a huge party in the bar. We were a fair distance away, so I wasn’t too stressed and when it was still quiet around 22:00 I sighed in relief and ventured into the tent for some much needed sleep.

So at around 22:15 the music started. To be honest, it was fairly good music and the volume wasn’t really that bad. I drifted in and out of consciousness, tapping a finger to the beat when I was awake until about 2am when it all stopped and I could fall asleep again.

Day 142:

When we eventually woke up after 8am, we made an executive decision not to move for the day. We had no washing to do, no things to fix or plans to make, we simply wanted a day of doing nothing at all.

The showers were so hot that it needed the full application of cold water to make it bearable. We both got stuck for a while. The weather was fairly nasty with high clouds and cold winds, so before lunch we were back in the tent, hiding from the world and reading some books.

Around 16:00 we made yet another chocolate cake and soon after I went to the bar to charge some batteries while Catt decided to take a nap. A couple of hours later she joined me in the bar with the news that we had been invaded.

Back at our pitch, Maggie was completely surrounded by a group of Italian families in their respective 4x4’s. I was mystified as to why they did not choose a comfortable space else where in the four football pitch sized grounds and gardens and why they had to seemingly latch onto us. Perhaps they were scared of something.

Our dinner was quick and easy and marked the end of a lazy day, hiding from Africa in an African camp site… or so we thought! It was Saturday night and the music started at 20:00, twice as loud as Friday’s attempts. This also saw the arrival of many local vehicles that seemed to use the camp site as a parking lot. Being surrounded by the Italians suddenly became a blessing.

We went to bed as late as our heavy eyelids would allow, thinking that we needed only to survive to 2am before we cold get some rest. Saturday nights however seemed to have different rules…

Day 143:

It was 4:30 when the music finally stopped and we finally fell into something resembling a peaceful sleep. The early hours were marked not only by insanely loud and tasteless noise, but also cars driving around with their head lights shining into our tent, hordes of people walking around the camp site chatting and shouting and the relentless use of car horns to get the security guard to open the main gate. Still, we had been warned that weekends had parties, and we chose to stay there none the less.

Four hours of intense sleep later, the Italians started stirring and we got up as well. It was 8:30 and I did not feel very refreshed. After some chatting to the other campers we had the terrible surprise that Sunday mornings apparently did not have hot showers. It was still cold and cloudy outside, so the cold water was as unwelcoming as the DJ from the night before. It was not long before we turned the key in the ignition and headed out of camp towards the well stocked Shoprite with a detour to a bank and another Bureau for that day’s $ stash.

At Shoprite we bought enough to fill every corner of our food stores and freezer. We filled the diesel tanks with the same dedication and left Arusha in a cloud of dust by mid morning. “Good ridden” I thought, as the town disappeared in my rear view mirror.

Before our trip had started I read many blogs and stories of people who had done similar things. It always bugged me that the majority of independent overland travellers seemed to hit a slight depression in Tanzania. I could never work out if that was because of the time they had spent travelling or if it had something to do with the country they found themselves in at that time. I did however never think that it would happen to us. Interestingly enough, with the purest of intentions, I had to concede on the 143rd day of travel that we too were a little Africa’d out that day. It was not anything specific, but the continuous struggle of al the little things that should have been simple in life. It was the inability to walk down a street without getting plagued by touts or friends or brothers who insisted on helping you with things you did not want. It was the desperate need to run away from the masses of people that seemed absolutely impossible. It may have had something to do with the fact that the exhaust repair which Toyota charged a bucket of money for lasted only three hours… Trying to analyse the feelings I was experiencing, I came to a bizarre and almost humorous conclusion though…

The previous night our camping lamp had died a sudden death. This was hardly surprising as the lamp in question was one of our first overland purchases and we used it for the very first time in 2005 on our very first overland trip in a Suzuki SJ 410 around Namibia. That specific trip for us was the start of all overland travel plans together and sparked the dream of the trip we were living presently. As part of a discussion in 2007 I attempted to prove that the lamp was waterproof by dunking it into the dishwashing bowl while it was on, only to read the label the next day which clearly warned about any kind of moisture on the lamp. No one informed this cheap as hell lamp about the rules though, as it soldiered on and seemed indestructible. The solder on the contacts of the lighter plug had come loose in 2008 and was fixed in the bush of Botswana with some Gaffer Tape as we did not have electrical tape. The cable was lengthened using the left over cable from another, more expensive lamp we bought in 2009 which lasted only half a trip. So with the fluorescent tube in this poor lamp blowing, it truly did mark the end of an era and bizarrely opened a floodgate of fond memories and causing a strange emotional effect. This, it has to be said, was compounded by the fact that the replacement lamp, of the same make and model, blew up as soon as I plugged it in and I failed to manufacture one working specimen by combining the parts from the two broken ones even though I had a soldering iron handy and a basic understanding of how these things worked. “Oh for fuck sakes…” was about the only expression I could come up with at that time. I was in desperate need of a dramatic attitude adjustment.

The adjustment came in the form of Paradise Camp site. According to our maps there was a camp site called “Lake View Camp” close to the Tarangire Nation Park Gate. We drove around the area for half an hour before giving up and heading on to the next possible on the GPS. Paradise camp was about half an hour past the park entrance and offered big shady trees, the cleanest western toilet I had seen since leaving my own one months and months before and the greatest gift to me that day: Solitude! Apart from the friendly staff who desperately wanted to pitch our tent for us, until I explained that our tent was on the roof of the car, we were the only souls within eye or earshot of the place. We paid our $8 per person with a great smile and settled in with binoculars and bird book for the afternoon. We managed to positively identify three species of birds we had never seen before while having an absolutely fantastic time in our “make-belief” world where we were the only people in existence. The adjustment of attitude came suddenly when reading the name of new species number two: It was called a Superb Starling… What a superb name!

We pitched our tent just before dark, cooked a fine meal and played some Bawo for the first time in a month and went to bed early, we think… We managed to set an alarm for the next morning without actually noting the time after packing away everything we could and even filling the thermos with hot water for the next morning’s coffee.

Day 144:

The bird song, marking half an hour before sunrise woke me up before the alarm went off. It was a fantastic day to be in the bush and to be alone! We energetically jumped out of bed, folded the tent away and drove out of our superb campsite just as the first rays of sunshine started hitting the tallest of the palm trees. It was with great excitement, and a noisy exhaust that we arrived at the entrance gate to the Tarangire National Park half an hour later. It has to be said that Kilimanjaro and the Tanzania parks did not form part of our normal budget. We had a special budget for that set aside, so the $110 for the two of us to enter for the day was fortunately not surprising, nor upsetting. It simply had to be done. Stupidly it helps to pay these fees by VISA instead of counting out the actual bank notes as well.

The Lonely Planet described the park as being under rated with high densities of game including vast herds of Wildebeest, Zebra and Elephant. For once, the Lonely Planet was absolutely spot on. Within minutes of entering the park we came across one of the biggest herds of Wildebeest either one of us had ever seen. They literally stretched as far as the eye could see. The landscape was absolutely littered by massive Baobab trees and knew high grass which made spotting game fairly easy. We saw a Kirk’s Dik-Dik for the very first time and started marking the birds off as we saw them.

We ventured along a road not known to Tracks for Africa and ended doing a massive loop back to the main gate and then on to the Matete picnic site for a well deserved lunch. The pleasant picnic site had surprisingly neat and clean bathrooms and the tables in the shade of some big trees provided welcome relief from the hot Africa sun. I did notice that we were the only “non safari company” vehicle there and started feeling deeply sorry for the poor tourists who were paying in excess of $150 a day per person to be cooped up in aircon less metal tubes for 8 hours a day on their three of four day whirlwind safaris. I much preferred spending 4 hours in the shade with binoculars, bird book and camera, striking up friendly conversations with the tourists who shared our tree every so often.

Amongst these were three American ladies who had just come from their 8 day Kilimanjaro Trek. We shared those common experiences of being cold on summit day and being fantastically proud of our individual achievements none the less. The conversation inevitably progressed to where we had come from and our plans were and even ventured into the positive attitude in which they perceived the new US government and the changes it had brought to the country. Catt swapped hospital stories with them as they were nurses who worked in a teaching hospital in Boston. They were completely flabbergasted by the stories of striking and aggressive government workers whose solution for not getting their requested pay rises was to burn things… and people… As was happening at that exact time in the hospital Catt used to work at. They were refreshingly naïve to the ways of socio economic Africa and I loved spending time with them.

Minutes before we decided to leave the shade, a Vervet monkey jumped on the table in front of me and grabbed hold of a packet of Provitas (Crackers) and despite me slapping the side of its head with an open hand, he ran of, packet in hand. I ran after him, shouting, screaming and even throwing a rock or two, but the relentless little bugger held onto the packet with those pesky opposable thumbs and went into apparent hiding in a thick thorn bush at the edge of the picnic site. I decided that it was simply not worth getting bitten and getting rabies for a packet of crackers so mumbled an obscene amount of abuse at the group of vermin and walked back to our table, noticing the expressions of utter amusement from the remaining tourists.

Our afternoon drive started around 14:45 and the plan was to follow the river south until we had to turn back to the main gate to exit before closing time at 19:00. Before long we found a small family herd of elephant munching away at some juicy greenery next to the river. I noticed a clear path they could take and positioned Maggie at a fine vantage point of the best suited mud puddle for family bath time. The herd played right into my hand and ventured down the chosen path and right into the mud, right in front of us. The light was nice, the interaction between animals phenomenal and our position perfect. We spent the best part of an hour watching them, photographing them and laughing at the clumsiness of the younger guys. The sighting really did make our day in the park worth while.

Over the course of the rest of the afternoon we saw many animals in many different situations and it was all great! On our way back to the main gate we left the river and headed towards what the park calls “Little Serengeti”. These wide open plains offered unobstructed views that seemed to carry on past the horizon. The skies were blue and huge and the game plenty! You could not look in any direction without seeing something interesting. We saw massive herds of wildebeest and Zebra, a huge herd of Buffalo and more bird species I can mention. We eventually reached the gate, happy and exhausted, 20 minutes before closing time, but after the sun had said “good night”.

Our original plan was to drive back to Paradise Camp, but on the way to the park we saw another camp site within ten minutes of the gate. This seemed like a more convenient option so we stopped in to investigate. Zion Camp site was community run, the same price as Paradise and offered hot showers and clean toilets. There was a level place to park Maggie and cook our dinner and although the site was inhabited by other campers, it seemed quiet and subdued. I though that perhaps they too were feeling a little weary from a long day’s travel.

After making our small charcoal fire we were joined by the guard, clearly Masai, who I was convinced, believed that he was invisible when he wanted to be. He would just stand a few meters away from us, not making a sound and watching what we were doing. At the time we were engrossed in a duel of Bawo, so perhaps he knew the game and was interested in the outcome. He seemed harmless, apart from the fact that he favourite a bow and arrows (I Kid you not) above the more modern weapon of choice the guys at Masai camp had… Oh yeh, they walked around with shotguns, insisting that we were all safe… Not that that made us uncomfortable at all…

We did not last long after dinner and despite the periodic arrival of our invisible guard, we went to bed early and fell asleep instantly. I was pretty sure he got bored of us anyway as he seemed to really be invisible for the rest of the night. Zion camp was a quiet, calm and wise choice for our stop over.

Day 145:

We did not have far to travel and we were in no hurry. I kind of expected the other travellers in the camp to rise early and race off to the park gate which opened at 6am. They eventually left at 8am which was when we decided to have a shower and slowly get ready to make our way to our next destination.

Lake Manyara National Park was on the menu for us. On the way to the village closest to the gate I stopped in at a spares shop to try yet again to source a gasket for the exhaust which Toyota had failed to fix. The lady who seemed to run the shop had no idea what I was on about but fortunately, as seemed to be the case in all Tanzania, I had a long lost brother who happened to be around and who happened to know the exhaust fixing guy. The latter arrived with spanners and told me to start the car. I politely told him that I knew where the problem was, I wanted to fix the problem myself and that I was only after the correct part. My brother appeared with the correct part and instructed the mechanic to fit it… in Swahili. I stopped him just as he rolled in under the car and asked the price for the part and again explained that I did not want the mechanic to touch anything. The price was… well, obviously a Musungu price and far more than the stupid thing was worth. Out of principal I told my brother that he was too expensive and left.

We found Twiga Camp which was recommended to us by a guide we had met the previous day. I was once again very pleasantly surprised with their setup. It was like camping in someone’s oversized back garden. The facilities were spotless, and the price fair. It was clear that we were entering popular national park territory as the fair price was 50% more than what we had been used to. It was however half of what we had expected in the area, so a bargain for us regardless.

It was very early still, so before lunch I crawled under Maggie to inspect the problem exhaust once again. The problem was not new, or interesting, or unavoidable in any way. The idiot who re fitted the exhaust at Toyota never fastened the bloody bolts! The paper gasket (No one obviously thought that exhausts may get hot and burn through paper) they had manufactured blew to pieces as well so there was just no seal what so ever! My solution: silicon Gasket maker, lock nuts and tightening the bolts within a millimetre of stripping them, or as tight as I could manage anyway. I emerged, triumphantly after no more than half an hour, announcing my utter confidence in my ingeniously simple repair. Catt looked sceptical, but supportive.

On the spur of the moment we decided to enter the park that afternoon. Our 24 hour permit would then allow us an afternoon drive, a night outside the park and a morning drive the next day and that sounded like a better idea than spending one single complete day in the park again.

I didn’t read up much about the park in question. The only prominent thing I knew about it was that it was said to host some tree climbing Lions. That sounded fantastic, so we entered around 14:30 and went in search of the crazy animals. I jokingly asked a safari guide where they hid them and he, quite seriously, told me that Lions were hard to find, but I could follow him if I wanted to. We opted to have a solo attempt and drove down into the lake side park first.

Our immediate impression of the park was WOW!!!! There were an absolute insane amount of animals and stuff happening around every corner! We drove to a marked Hippo Pool where we saw about a million Yellow Billed Storks and had to search for the Hippos in between their legs. The vast herds of Wildebeest and Zebra were Omni-present and a few massive herds of Buffalo were wallowing in the shallow waters. We found huge breading colonies of Pelicans and a ridiculously large number of Flamingos… We also found a Lion. Not in a tree, she was lying down in the shade, doing what Lions do best… Nothing at all… so we left her to the seven or so safari vehicles jostling for position.

On the way back to the gate we stopped at the Hippo Pool once again. Getting out of your vehicle was permitted as the single wooden pole fence was obviously seen as enough protection from the Hippo. While leaning on this fence and looking through the binoculars I spotted some very strange things in the back ground. I swept the binoculars from left to right, scanning the foreground, background and horizon and saw the following: (In order of appearance) Buffalo, Zebra, Thompson Gazelle, Masai man walking alone, Pelicans, Yellow Billed Stork, Dug-out Canoe with two woman in, Flamingos, wildebeest, Egyptian Geese, Warthog, Masai on motorbike chasing cattle, White Fronted Cormorants, Impala, Giraffe, four official looking people in green uniforms waking next to Hippo. One had a shotgun, one an AK47, a short fat woman had a huge carving knife and the smallest man had a stick. I had to laugh.

We did have a short conversation with them when they approached us and asked if we were not scared standing alone so close to wild animals (They waved at the herd of Zebra behind us) I remarked that people with AK47’s and big knifes scared me more than animals and that I was pretty sure that the Hippo they were walking next to was far more dangerous than the stripy horse like things around us. The man with the stick was impressed with this observation and said: “You must be from Africa; it seems you know your stuff…”

We reached Twiga Camp just before dark with a fully prepared exhaust and fond memories of a great little National Park in Tanzania. The camp was fairly busy, but the breed of safari goers seemed subdued and I was convinced that we had a quiet night ahead of us. As we dragged our tired bodies into the comforts of the tent I was, once again, pleased with our fine choice of campsite. It was peaceful and quiet and allowed us another fine night’s rest!

Day 146:

I was fully expecting to wake up to bird song, but minutes before they started I woke up to the sound of clanging pots. It wasn’t upsetting; it merely marked the early start to a day in a National Park. We left camp first after the ruthless efficiency in which only Catt and I can pack up camp and leave. We entered the gate within half an hour of waking up and slowly made our way down the steep hill towards the Lake’s edge. Our first sighting was a troop of Yellow Baboons, followed very shortly by a small herd of Elephant and then a large herd of Buffalo. This was all within the first ten minutes and excited me greatly.

The weather was, as it had been for some days before, cloudy in the morning. It seemed that the sun only managed to break through the clouds around 10Am, burn them away completely for a cloudless afternoon only to start the process again the next morning. Because of this we decided to drive the complete length of the park south and slowly make our way back when the sun was shining. The main road south meandered through forests and away from the lake’s edge. This also had very little animals around. The southern tip of the park had some interesting action, but was also infested with Tsetse flies, so with windows up and air-conditioning on we headed north again.

We stopped for an early lunch at a picnic spot next to the lake. The drive back to the gate was as eventful as the previous afternoon’s drive and very rewarding in terms of bird sightings. We saw Silvery Cheeked Hornbills for the first time and identified a Red and Yellow woodpecker again. The Hippos were out of the water, so we did not get out of the car there and made the gate with ten minutes to spare. It was the first time on our adventure that I actually wished that I could spend another day in the same park, but alas, the budget would not have allowed that.

From the main gate it felt like we were instantly climbing mountains again. I wasn’t sure whether the Manyara Lake was in the Rift Valley or not, but it sure felt like we were leaving some kind of valley behind. It took mostly second gear to haul Maggie’s bulk the 30km to Karatu, the closest village to the next parks we wanted to visit.

The recommended place, according to the guide books, was Kudu Lodge and Camp, so we went to investigate. The lodge itself looked fantastic and expensive. The camp site offered much level parking and pristine facilities. The price was $10 a person, which was going rate in the area, so our search for a camp site stopped right there.

We headed back into town to try and renew our Road Tax. This apparently was only valid for 30 days, and that was our 30th day in Tanzania. We found the Tanzanian Revenue Authority office easily, but not a single person in the office had ever seen the piece of paper we tried to renew. We gave it up for a bad joke and decided to try again in a border town, or just plead ignorance when confronted about it. We were planning on spending the next three days in National Parks and then get to a port town, so the likelihood of someone asking for this particular piece of paper was slim to none.

On the way back to Kudu we stopped for some veggies next to the road. We bough the biggest tomatoes I had even seen in my life for next to nothing and some avocado for not much more. It was refreshing to obviously pay usual prices with no skin tax added. Back at camp our chores were simple: we pitched the tent in record time, had a really nice shower and went to explore the grounds and search for the bar. We felt that we deserved a cold one!

Just before sunset we got invaded! I’m not sure why we thought we would be the only people in the camp that night, as it was obviously the nicest camp site in the area and also the quietest. The invaders were a group of Safari tourists in two vehicles. To be fair, they pitched their camp, cooked their food and went along their business in the same way we did and apart from a quick chat to their tour guide to get some advice, we were hardly aware of them.

Day 147:

After a very quiet and peaceful night I woke up to birdsong again. It was easy to get out of bed despite the cloudy and chilly weather and we left camp around 7am without even trying hard. It was a very exciting day for us for two reasons: We were about to pay more money for one day’s activities and one night’s accommodation that we had ever done before and we were about to go into the famous Ngorogoro Crater.

Since leaving Lake Manyara the previous day it felt like we were constantly driving up the side of a mountain When looking at the GPS I noticed that we had indeed climbed some 2 000ft to Kudu Camp and another 2 000ft to the gate. It was no wonder that Maggie was coughing and spluttering a little when I had to put my foot down to make it up the next hill. The poor thing was running out of breath!

From Kudu camp to the park gate took less than half an hour and after filling in the reception book and almost handing over the money, we got a fair and valuable warning: Our permit would be valid for 24 hours. That day was no problem at all, but the next day, travelling from Simba Camp to Serengeti would take longer than our permit would be valid for. It was entirely possible that we would get stung with another day’s park fees if we were left to our own devices. So the advice was simple: Chill out in the car park to 9:30, and then enter the park. That was exactly what we did.

At 9:45 Catt went into the office to get our permit and after handing over a whopping $400 she got handed a piece of paper granting us: Access to the conservation area for 24 hours, access to the crater in our own vehicle for the same time and one night’s camping at Simba Public Cam site, said to have horrendous facilities… I was very apprehensive about this day. When planning our trip I read many blogs and reports about people who were truly disappointed in the crater and actively discouraged others from paying the huge fees to visit the place. I was however on record as saying that I would rather join the group of disappointed people than pass by one of the world’s most famous wildlife areas without seeing it for myself. My first slight disappointment came when I signed the gate register and some corrupt twat told me that we would not be allowed to drive in the crater without a local guide… at a fee of course. I looked at him bewildered and told him that if that was the case, we would simply not go into the crater at all. This seemed to satisfy his arrogant puny little brain enough to let us pass unhindered. Leaving the gate I did wander if anyone would ever be able to explain to him that he was the poster boy for what the world perceived to be a corrupt and dishonest continent. He probably wouldn’t even care! While I was being upset I also pondered the, conservatively estimated, $150 000 entrance gate and which part of our $400 actually went to a good cause and which part went into building an obscene gate, and which part actually went to conservation, which was their main advertised reason for charging that much.

We continued to climb a mountain to the crater rim and were engulfed in misty clouds and the dust from insanely rude drivers of safari vehicles with apparent disregard for all other road users and the safety of their passengers. I was generally not someone who succumbed to road rage, but within the first twenty minutes of entering the area I was shouting abuse at every second idiot who was passing me at high speed on blind corners. Catt calmly smiled and told me that we were car number 90 to be granted access for that day and that I should really relax a little instead of working myself up over something I had no control over. It was good advice and my solution was to stop dead every time I saw another idiot in my rear view mirror. At least that way he could pass unhindered and I could actually concentrate on keeping Maggie upright and on the road.

We reached the steep descent road without incident and checked in with the very friendly gate attendant. He looked inside Maggie and announced that he was looking for a place to sit so that he could accompany us. I simply pointed out that we only had two seats and that there was no way we could carry a third person. His response was a polite smile and an enquiry about the maps we had. When he saw the extends of our navigation equipment he was pleased to inform me that we would not require a guide, but also that his satellite (He was pointing at a dish on the roof at this point) would see every move we made and that we would get into trouble for disobeying any of the park rules.

While all this was going on, a Masai was trying to sell Catt some stuff. When he asked if she wanted some bangles, she politely told him that she was not going to buy anything from him. He then asked about some Masai blankets. She again explained that we had no money with us that that we were not buying anything. His response was to show her his spear which he cleverly made so that it could be taken apart for easy aircraft stowage. She told him that she was impressed, but still not going to buy anything. At this point I arrived back from the office and he started with me… We went through the same friendly way of declining his wares one by one and satisfied that we were truly not going to make his day, he said good bye and left us alone.

The road into the crater was indeed a very steep descent road requiring some fancy footwork and low gear selection. Right at the bottom we stopped to have a look at our maps, selected a picnic area for lunch and started heading that way. We came across another 80 series Land Cruiser which had been turned into a Safari vehicle. I saw the guy the day before and noticed that one of his tyres was a little flat. He had obviously not done anything to rectify that situation, so I stopped by his window and told him about it. The poor man smiled and told a story of visiting numerous garages on his way without being able to find a single working compressor and that he was fairly desperate as he had already lost one of his tyres to bad roads and was left with only one spare for Serengeti. I took pity and showed off the built in compressor we had. As I was connecting the valve he asked if I was from South Africa. “Indeed I am” I said smilingly and asked how he could tell, not mentioning the obvious South African umber plate on Magurudumu that is. He simply said that all South African overlanders seemed to be prepared, unlike the Tanzanian Safari companies who expect miracles from their vehicles and drivers. I did feel a little sorry for the man.

We reached our lunch spot after seeing many herds of Zebra, Wildebeest, Buffalo and Gazelle and I was already fairly impressed with the park. It was still overcast, but I was blindly positive about parting clouds and golden afternoon sunlight. At the picnic spot we saw a Vervet Monkey climb into another vehicle to see what it could steal. While preparing our lunch I was vigilant, sling shot in hand and determined that we would not get robbed again. I even postponed going to the loo, not to leave Catt alone to guard the food. As the other vehicles left and we were alone in the site, I saw the monkeys make their move. I was ready for them! I shouted and waved the sling shot, even took a shot at one and while I was picking up another rock to re load, one little bugger simply swept in between me, Catt and the car door and made off with one of our only two break rolls. I WAS PISSED! The rest of them obviously saw this and scampered off and I continued to take pot shots at anything on four legs with a long tail I could find. As I heard one of my projectiles ping off a tree stump after narrowly missing the perpetrator’s head I could almost see, in slow motion how it could ricochet and shatter a window on the car. I stopped shooting before that happened.

More vehicles pulled in and suddenly the Monkeys disappeared. They were outnumbered. We enjoyed a peaceful lunch and left the site in search of more animals. The crater itself is not that big and nothing much grows inside it, apart from grass and safari vehicles. It was insanely dusty and we had to drive with the windows closed most of the time, but for some reason we were still impressed! Not only with the animals and the sightings, but the demonic drivers from the crater rim seemed to have undergone a metamorphosis and they were all friendly, courteous and even told us where the best game was to be found. It was a truly fascinating and inspiring experience! We saw our first Lion while looking at a massive herd of Wildebeest. This guy was chilling out about 300m away and just looking, making no apparent move of interest towards them. Our second lion sighting was more exciting. There was a herd of buffalo in a swamp next to the road and some four Lionesses were lying, sleeping in their way. The cats got spooked by the approaching herd and snuck off instead of chasing them, which I have to admit was not entirely unexpected. Disappointing, but not unusual…

From a high viewpoint we looked out over the crater and saw for the first time the ridiculous number of game contained within the rim. We could see no less than three big Buffalo herds and numerous Zebra, Wildebeest and Gazelle herds. We spotted many Hyena, Jackal, Elephant and Giraffe… and a few Lions of course. We left the viewpoint as the light started turning really nice and were approached by a Jackal. I stopped in the road and this little guy walked right up to us, gave me a curious look and walked on by, within meters of the car. It was quite surreal. We found one of the big herds of Buffalo and took some nice photos there before finding our third Lion sighting for the day. This was a pride of seven, doing what Lions do best… Nothing at all.

It was time to hit the road and make the exit gate before the 18:00 closing time, so we drove down the hill towards our original picnic spot, the massive herd of Wildebeest and the steep ascent road, briefly pausing to take the odd picture of plains game we happened to spot along the way. A few kilometres from our turn I spotted a herd of safari vehicles so headed that way. They seemingly stopped for the Wildebeest herd, but also seemed to have a good vantage point so I decided to join them to take a picture or two in the last light. The herd was so big that it took 10 minutes to drive from the one side to the other and I guessed contained about 3 000 or so individuals. We had about five minutes to spare anyway.

When I stalked up to the vehicles, I did notice that they were not really looking at the Wildebeest and when we got close we saw why. There were two Lionesses stalking the herd and the herd was completely oblivious to their presence. You could sense that action was about to erupt any second and that the guides were getting anxious to leave, but did not want their guests to miss out. Our theory was that as long as we were not the last vehicle to leave, we could only get into as much trouble as the local guides, which we did not think would be that much. So we stayed for a while. It was amazing to see the two predators at work and the precision at which they went about their task. They were flat to the ground and inching forwards at intervals without alerting a single animal in the herd. It took ages for them to get within striking distance and as I thought the leading lady was about to pounce, she lay down once again and waited, patiently. The whole experience was like watching an award winning wild life documentary on the biggest, most impressive LCD display known to man. People wait years to film something like that and we were watching it happen in real time! At some point I scanned the surroundings to see if we had missed any other players in this fascinating game and saw a Cheetah peering out from a ditch, waiting patiently, without curfew to see what was happening.

We did run out of time and the last two safari vehicles had started their engines. I turned Maggie around and broke all speed limits to the ascent road. I snuck a peak back to the herd at every chance I could to see if something was erupting, but all seemed quiet on the plains right up to the point of reaching the boom gate at the top. We did manage to catch up to the vehicles that left before right then. They were having the biggest argument you can imagine with the guard who closed the gate in front of them. It was, to be fair, 18:05 and we were, to be fair, late for the closing gate. What was not fair was that, allegedly, the guard allowed the local hotel’s vehicle to pass through and stopped the Arusha based companies vehicle by slamming the boom down right in front if him. I immediately decided to stay the hell out of any arguments and that we would take the punishment of what was dealt to the local guides without hesitation. I was also convinced that they would be able to argue their way out of trouble. You could see the events unfolding: It started with reason, turned into shouting and was about to turn into negotiation when I managed to understand that the boss had been summoned to defuse the situation and solve the problem. Catt and I chatted to two British girls who were on safari while the discussion continued, in Swahili.

The boss arrived in shocking pink Crocks shoes shortly after and one brief discussion later, in Swahili, I could see that the solution had been found and the gate guard walked over to open the gate. The guides filed back into their vehicles and I simply followed them out, getting the worse stare imaginable from the boss. I could honestly not take anyone wearing shoes that hideous seriously. I was pretty sure that the other guides were told to NEVR EVER do that again and to stop leading the Wazungu self drivers astray with their irresponsible behaviour, as all the guides looked like puppies with their tails between their legs.

We reached Simba Camp just as dark set in and parked under a nice big tree to pitch our tent. We were almost done pitching when a security guard angrily told me off for driving on the grass and pointed at a road, saying that I had to stay on it and camp on it if I did not have a ground tent, like other proper people. I smiled, apologised and told him that we would move at once, which instantly defused the situation and made him relax a little. I did wonder if other visitors normally argue with him, but then again, any decent human should accept the local rules without argument.

The pitch we found (The only level place) was right on the rim of the camp site in between a tree and the crater rim. Even though there were Zebra in the camp, I didn’t really expect any trouble until one of the guides who had argued our case at the gate came by and suggested that we put our table on the camp site side of the car. He explained that we were in fact parked next a path that was frequently used by Buffalo and that we could expect Hyena to come visit us. I suddenly felt terribly exposed, but was simply too tired to move again. We opted for putting the table and chairs right under the tent at the back of the car and use the barn doors as barriers from the outside world. Since our trusty camping light stopped working we could also use a flash light’s beam, bounced of the underside of the tent as a light source.

While Catt was cutting vegetables I was pouring wine and suddenly heard a startled, muffled yelp from Catt. I looked up and into the eyes of a Lion colour dog who had sat down right next to our table with his head inches away from the plate of vegetables. He wasn’t begging or unfriendly in any way. We decided that he just came to say hallo. We also kind of liked the idea of having an early warning system around for when all those wild animals were going to arrive. They never did and we went to bed early with full bellies and ecstatically happy with our experience of the day…. And because it was really really cold on the crater rim, inside the misty cloud with the wind blowing.

If I had to do it again:

Masai Camp was a fantastic place in the week, but a BAD choice on weekends! We should have stayed only one night and found accommodation out of town for the nights after that. We were. To be fair, still exhausted from our climb and putting down the tent seemed like a really difficult thing to do, just to move camp sites.

One has to remember that although Tracks 4 Africa is a fantastic source of information, it is, by concept outdated by the time it reaches you, much like Lonely Planet Guides. We should have driven to the Tarangire NP gate before choosing our accommodation for the night. That way we probably would have entered the park in the afternoon and again the next morning on the same permit, staying one night at Zion Camp. But alas, the rest we got from our solitude at Paradise Camp was fantastic and much needed.

Now that I have paid the ridiculous fee to enter the Ngorogoro Crater I can honestly say that it is not a waste of time or money! You need to accept the fact that it is a half day affair, but I can not see how you can not be absolutely blown away by the place. Up to that point both Catt and I agreed that Botswana’s parks had been the best we had seen and that they offered incredible value for money, regardless of what we thought when we were living in South Africa. We can honestly recommend Ngorogoro to anyone passing by, but warn everyone that you need to somehow expel the money side of things from your mind.