The following has recently appeared on the official blog for the Mara Conservancy :
"A party of Kenyan friends were camping at one of our private campsites when a group of armed men entered the camp in the early evening. Shots were fired leaving one man dead and two people injured.
We immediately deployed our rangers and co-operated with the GSU, KWS and the Police. At this time it is not permitted to give any more information on the case, we have however boosted security in the area and now insist that all campers hire armed rangers during their stay."
Following some media coverage in the UK, a number of my friends have contacted me to make sure that we weren't involved and that we were OK. We had left the area some days before the incident, so I could confirm that everything was OK with us.
When we were camping in the Mara we didn't have armed askari / guards and felt perfectly safe all the time but I do understand the Conservancy's new policy.
Saturday, 31 July 2010
Sunday, 25 July 2010
Bush telegraph
I'm now gradually settling into life and work in the bush. All the people - guests and staff - are good company and the work's not too hard.
So far I've written an introduction to the Camp to be placed in every room and contributed to the Company's blog. At the moment, I'm reviewing its (not existent) fire fighting capability - there's isn't a fire engine within 3 hours travel from here ! I think it will result in the purchase of many fire buckets and some extinguishers !
As I get time, I will add postings covering the time I was travelling with Bob, Mary and Michele : they should appear in the right chronological order.
So far I've written an introduction to the Camp to be placed in every room and contributed to the Company's blog. At the moment, I'm reviewing its (not existent) fire fighting capability - there's isn't a fire engine within 3 hours travel from here ! I think it will result in the purchase of many fire buckets and some extinguishers !
As I get time, I will add postings covering the time I was travelling with Bob, Mary and Michele : they should appear in the right chronological order.
Thursday, 22 July 2010
Eating On The Run
The following is an other perspective on the migration written by Eli Weiss of the WildiZe Foundation whose company I enjoyed at Serian.
Our sleek bodies are as golden as the long grass, my mates and I. Our powerful shoulders, legs, ripping claws and three-inch teeth make us expert at killing our prey. Unheard and unseen, we slide like silk through the long grass, finding a good spot hunker down … and we
wait. Across the river we see the strange metal boxes rushing to and fro, filled with the
Two-Legged-Ones, who’s heads pop up and down out the tops and sides, generally making funny chattering noises while they point and click shiny things at us. Since we were little cubs we’ve grown up with them and know that they are a part of the constantly moving landscape around us. Even though they can be scary at times, we know it’s only when they’re out of their funny moving boxes that they can be dangerous, but most times they are not a threat and really don’t bother us much. We can always melt back into the bush, there are many places we can go where they cannot. Anyway, right now, they don’t even seem to see us, so we pay them little attention. Today all of us are focused on the river waiting for the wildebeest to plunge across in their endless cycle of their Great Migration.
All morning we’ve been watching great clouds of dust rise and fall as the cloud cover disappears leaving the burning sun in its wake, baking down on everyone and everything, driving the wildebeest and zebras to unbearable thirst after their long trek. We see them gathering, bunching, tensing; nervously skittering down to the river—they don’t see or smell us
in their desperate need for water. They must drink. It is the pressure of their huge numbers that forces them across the river towards us. We’re ready and we wait, it won’t be long now. We’ve picked a good spot…the bank is steep and difficult to climb on this side with a narrow gap to reach the safety of the open plains. We’re in position, crouched, tense and ready! Ah! There she goes, the first of my lioness’s springs into action––she splits off a small group –dazed and confused from their charge through the water, they spin off in a panic, where my second lioness springs out in front of them, spinning them into perfect position for ambush, where all 500 pounds of my rippling muscular form leaps forward running up the gap behind them, my black mane flying, and with my powerful legs, paws and claws I seize upon the rear flank of panicked herd.
My mates zero in! We’ve got one! Outstanding feline purr-fection ! Time for lunch.
The text and images are : © 2010 WildiZe Foundation
Our sleek bodies are as golden as the long grass, my mates and I. Our powerful shoulders, legs, ripping claws and three-inch teeth make us expert at killing our prey. Unheard and unseen, we slide like silk through the long grass, finding a good spot hunker down … and we
wait. Across the river we see the strange metal boxes rushing to and fro, filled with the
All morning we’ve been watching great clouds of dust rise and fall as the cloud cover disappears leaving the burning sun in its wake, baking down on everyone and everything, driving the wildebeest and zebras to unbearable thirst after their long trek. We see them gathering, bunching, tensing; nervously skittering down to the river—they don’t see or smell us
in their desperate need for water. They must drink. It is the pressure of their huge numbers that forces them across the river towards us. We’re ready and we wait, it won’t be long now. We’ve picked a good spot…the bank is steep and difficult to climb on this side with a narrow gap to reach the safety of the open plains. We’re in position, crouched, tense and ready! Ah! There she goes, the first of my lioness’s springs into action––she splits off a small group –dazed and confused from their charge through the water, they spin off in a panic, where my second lioness springs out in front of them, spinning them into perfect position for ambush, where all 500 pounds of my rippling muscular form leaps forward running up the gap behind them, my black mane flying, and with my powerful legs, paws and claws I seize upon the rear flank of panicked herd. 
The text and images are : © 2010 WildiZe Foundation
Our own David Attenborough
This video was taken my Mary : her first ever - excellent - video production.
Wednesday, 21 July 2010
WE'RE BACK !
The following is an account of the migration from a Wildebeest's perspective that I penned for Serian's blog.
Having past the last few months across the border in Tanzania's Serengeti Plains, us Wildebeest and a few of our Zebra friends are coming back to the Mara as we've heard that the grass is greener here.
First a few of us set off - traveling in long lines across the plains of golden grass - occasionally one of them would grunt as if to confirm that they were going in the right direction. Trudging Northwards they met up with a few friends who had remained behind from last year, together with the full time residents - Topi, Warthogs, Giraffe, Elephant etc.
As the days went past, more and more of us followed our pathfinders, the initial strings developed into larger groups until it looked like the Indians coming over the hill to meet General Custer at the Little Big Horn.
On we trudged, grunting to each other our agreement that this was a really good idea, occasionally racing ahead or stopping for a quick snack on the new grass. Once in a while some of us would get confused and set off back the way we had come but we always ended up going in the right direction.
Then we came across a real barrier across the path along which our instincts were drawing us - the Mara River ! It wasn't just its steep sides that were the problem nor the swim across its fast flowing water nor the steep climb out the other side. What worried us more was the welcoming party that had been arranged by some of the residents. Crocs lurked in the rushing water whilst Lion & Leopard concealed themselves in long grass or bushes.
On the banks of the river we stood and contemplated the drop to the water, occasionally we would move up & down to seek better places to cross - hesitating at the very brink. Then, one of our bravest (or perhaps one with less brains) would take the initial plunge leaving a trail of dust behind them. Some would chose a gentle slope, others - more adventurous - would hurtle down narrow chutes to the water. Once one had taken the literal plunge, others would rush to follow.
The Mara's waters might be cooling and refreshing after days trudging across the plains but they do have their drawbacks ! Hidden just below the surface is often a long narrow snout filled with rows of sharp teeth. The Crocs make their lunge for unfortunate friends dragging them to drown under the once inviting waters.
Having plunged across the river in an increasing dust cloud, we occasionally suffer from the lack of foresight by the ones who had selected this particular crossing point. Our occasional problem is that not every entry point is matched by an easy exit climb up the other bank. Consequently, our swim is lengthened as we search for an easy way up on the other side.
Gaining the top of the bank, we meet the second element of the welcoming party. The dash and throat grip of the felines lying in wait in the long golden grass or behind a bush.
Occasionally, some of us will recross the river as if we had enjoyed the initial experience so much. However, most of us will disperse over the plains in search of the new grass had had drawn us up from Tanzania.
First a few of us set off - traveling in long lines across the plains of golden grass - occasionally one of them would grunt as if to confirm that they were going in the right direction. Trudging Northwards they met up with a few friends who had remained behind from last year, together with the full time residents - Topi, Warthogs, Giraffe, Elephant etc.
As the days went past, more and more of us followed our pathfinders, the initial strings developed into larger groups until it looked like the Indians coming over the hill to meet General Custer at the Little Big Horn.
On we trudged, grunting to each other our agreement that this was a really good idea, occasionally racing ahead or stopping for a quick snack on the new grass. Once in a while some of us would get confused and set off back the way we had come but we always ended up going in the right direction.
Then we came across a real barrier across the path along which our instincts were drawing us - the Mara River ! It wasn't just its steep sides that were the problem nor the swim across its fast flowing water nor the steep climb out the other side. What worried us more was the welcoming party that had been arranged by some of the residents. Crocs lurked in the rushing water whilst Lion & Leopard concealed themselves in long grass or bushes.
On the banks of the river we stood and contemplated the drop to the water, occasionally we would move up & down to seek better places to cross - hesitating at the very brink. Then, one of our bravest (or perhaps one with less brains) would take the initial plunge leaving a trail of dust behind them. Some would chose a gentle slope, others - more adventurous - would hurtle down narrow chutes to the water. Once one had taken the literal plunge, others would rush to follow.
The Mara's waters might be cooling and refreshing after days trudging across the plains but they do have their drawbacks ! Hidden just below the surface is often a long narrow snout filled with rows of sharp teeth. The Crocs make their lunge for unfortunate friends dragging them to drown under the once inviting waters.
Having plunged across the river in an increasing dust cloud, we occasionally suffer from the lack of foresight by the ones who had selected this particular crossing point. Our occasional problem is that not every entry point is matched by an easy exit climb up the other bank. Consequently, our swim is lengthened as we search for an easy way up on the other side.
Occasionally, some of us will recross the river as if we had enjoyed the initial experience so much. However, most of us will disperse over the plains in search of the new grass had had drawn us up from Tanzania.
Monday, 19 July 2010
My New Place of Work
Today my three travelling companions have left me in the middle of the African bush and headed back to the bright lights of Nairobi and their flights back to the UK.
. . . but I've started work here ! Do I miss working in an office in Birmingham ? What do you think ?
. . . but I've started work here ! Do I miss working in an office in Birmingham ? What do you think ?
Monday, 12 July 2010
Meeting the Massai Mara Residents
After yesterday's adventures, we didn't make a particularly early start and then we had to go through the formalities at the gate - with both the guy from KAPS - in a very natty blue & yellow uniform - and the Conservancy's own Rangers. After some confusion about what we had paid and what we still needed to pay we trundled through the gates into the Mara Triangle : at last !
Almost immediately we saw a kill ! No, not a big cat slinking through the tall grass leaping to take a killer grip on a throat. It was much less dramatic - a Maribu Stork taking a large cat fish from a small pool in a dried river bed right at the side of the road. Maribu Storks look like old traditional undertakers wearing a black morning coat & white shirt, hunched shoulders who walks with a slight stoop on spindly legs. It made numerous efforts to swallow the fish whole but it was too big. So it would drop it on the ground and peck bits off and try again. All was going well for it until another two of his colleagues arrived and made it clear that they wanted to share his prize. With this encouragement, he soon managed to force the fish down and claim it all for himself.
On the way through the NR, we stopped off at the massive Serena Lodge so that I could meet and thank William Deed from the Conservancy who had speedly answered, via the Conservancy's website, my queries about the campsite and paying fees etc. After our adventures the previous day, the others also took the opportunity to ask which was the best way back to Nairobi after they had left me behind. The answer was basically, back the way you came : not necessarily the answer they really wanted.
After tea and cakes in the relative luxury of Serena's terrace, we headed South to find our home for the next five days. I knew where it was located - roughly : between the 'main' road and the Mara River about 19 Ks South of Serena. We drove down to that general area and although there were several tracks in the area, there was no sign as to which was the right one.
We carried on without any luck down to the South Mara Bridge where the Rangers based there agreed to show us the way. We trundled North again following their little Jeep until they stopped and pointed to a small indestinct track into the bush. They continued on their way and we bumped off down the track, across the open bush and into the trees. Snaking through the trees, the track took us to a shaded open area on the banks of the river.
We set up the tents so that they created to sides of a rectangle, with the other two sides being made by the river and the Landy - the hope was that this laager would protect us from what ever we needed to be protected from. At no time during our stay did we feel threatened whilst in the camp but see the blog entry for 31st July for a different perspective.
On the way through the NR, we stopped off at the massive Serena Lodge so that I could meet and thank William Deed from the Conservancy who had speedly answered, via the Conservancy's website, my queries about the campsite and paying fees etc. After our adventures the previous day, the others also took the opportunity to ask which was the best way back to Nairobi after they had left me behind. The answer was basically, back the way you came : not necessarily the answer they really wanted.
After tea and cakes in the relative luxury of Serena's terrace, we headed South to find our home for the next five days. I knew where it was located - roughly : between the 'main' road and the Mara River about 19 Ks South of Serena. We drove down to that general area and although there were several tracks in the area, there was no sign as to which was the right one.
We carried on without any luck down to the South Mara Bridge where the Rangers based there agreed to show us the way. We trundled North again following their little Jeep until they stopped and pointed to a small indestinct track into the bush. They continued on their way and we bumped off down the track, across the open bush and into the trees. Snaking through the trees, the track took us to a shaded open area on the banks of the river.
We set up the tents so that they created to sides of a rectangle, with the other two sides being made by the river and the Landy - the hope was that this laager would protect us from what ever we needed to be protected from. At no time during our stay did we feel threatened whilst in the camp but see the blog entry for 31st July for a different perspective.
Massai Mara
We are now in the wilds of the Massai Mara miles from the nearest flush toilet and even further from an internet connection. Until we can get our own pictures uploaded, this will have to suffice as an indication of what we should be seeing ! Hopefully our snaps will be as good . . .
Sunday, 11 July 2010
. . . and so, at last, to the Massai Mara
Another relative early start sees us off on the road to what is, certainly for me, the highlight of the trip - the plains and rivers of the Massai Mara. A place a large proportion of the world has seen through wildlife programmes on TV but few will be lucky enough to visit.
The original plan was to take a back road from close to we camped, through what's left of the Mau Forrest, down to Narok and on to the Mara. However, local advice was that the back road had been washed out and that it might be foolhardy to attempt it. So it was back to Naivasha, South around Mount Lononot and then on to Narok. As this would probably take longer, I offered to drive as I was probably more confident in making the Landy go faster on the local roads.
The plan was to stop in Narok to provision for our Mara adventures - then it suddenly occurred to us, it's Sunday and the shops may be closed. We reached Narok, a dusty two street town, which is the regional capitol and, to our relief, both the Indian supermarket and the local stalls were all open. The supermarket wasn't quite as good as the YaYa Centre in Nairobi but it had most of what we needed for six night self-sufficient life in the bush.
Topping up with fuel, we headed out of town and soon found a sign to the Mara Serena which I knew was a few Ks inside the National Reserve on the way to our campsite. However, opinions within the Landy were divided as to whether it was the correct route ! Local advise was taken and followed : so we backtracked a short way and headed off along a long, bumpy and dusty back road. Some started to doubt that was the right road and, again, local advice was taken - we continued long the long, bumpy and dusty way. The dust was as fine as talcum powder and as soon as we slowed down, the cloud that followed us caught up and it was like being in a fog.. We, eventually, turned left on to a tarmac road but unfortunately this soon reverted to another long and bumpy road but this wasn't as dusty.
The road went on, farmed land eventually gave way to open plains with the occasional Thompson's Gazelle and eventually turned away from the hills to which we had been driving parallel for some time. This started to worry me as I knew from maps I'd looked at that the NR gate through which we were supposed to enter, was tucked under such hills. So - again - we took local advice and, thankfully, it was confirmed that we were indeed still going the right way.
Going through a small Massai village - a scattering of huts and a few sparse shops, the 'right' road turned into a closed road : the road had been washed away and was no longer viable - even for our trusty Landy.
By this time, the light was definitely beginning to fade and thoughts of having to put up camp next to a Massai village were starting to float through my tired brain. More local advice and some quite emphatic directions - he was even prepared to come with us to guide us through the diversion. Unfortunately, we did not have a spare seat as the massive bedding bag was taking up any spare room on the rear seats. Despite such emphatic directions, we soon lost the plot. Local advice was yet again sought - Why, oh why did we loose the GPS ? ! This brought home our arrogance that everybody understands or speaks English, when all we received in response to our questions was a smile and/or a blank stare.
Eventually, I saw a Manyatta (a group of huts surrounded by a thorn boma) outside of which were a number of tourist safari vehicles. Getting a bit disparate, I headed off across country in a straight line to see if they could help us. One of the guides offered to show us the way, if we would pay his Picpic (motorcycle taxi) fare back - this time Mary vacated her front seat and crammed herself in the back.
On the right road and our guide thanked & paid, we were soon at the Oloololo Gate and its adjacent campsite - no way were we going to make it to the Serena public campsite, yet alone our booked on at Kiboko. We waved our paperwork purchased in Nairobi and said we would sort everything out in the morning.
The campsite was already home to a large overland truck full of Spanish travelers but we managed to fit in around the edge. As we started to put up our tents, it started to rain. Whilst Mary and Michele immediately received assistance from a number of handsome neighbours, Bob and I struggled on alone ! Our evening meal was quick sandwiches and we were soon in bed. I slept through the Spaniards returning, surprisingly quietly, from watching their team win the World Cup but did surface briefly when Hyena raided the camp's rubbish dump.
A long and trying day but at least we are now in the Mara !
The original plan was to take a back road from close to we camped, through what's left of the Mau Forrest, down to Narok and on to the Mara. However, local advice was that the back road had been washed out and that it might be foolhardy to attempt it. So it was back to Naivasha, South around Mount Lononot and then on to Narok. As this would probably take longer, I offered to drive as I was probably more confident in making the Landy go faster on the local roads.
The plan was to stop in Narok to provision for our Mara adventures - then it suddenly occurred to us, it's Sunday and the shops may be closed. We reached Narok, a dusty two street town, which is the regional capitol and, to our relief, both the Indian supermarket and the local stalls were all open. The supermarket wasn't quite as good as the YaYa Centre in Nairobi but it had most of what we needed for six night self-sufficient life in the bush.
Topping up with fuel, we headed out of town and soon found a sign to the Mara Serena which I knew was a few Ks inside the National Reserve on the way to our campsite. However, opinions within the Landy were divided as to whether it was the correct route ! Local advise was taken and followed : so we backtracked a short way and headed off along a long, bumpy and dusty back road. Some started to doubt that was the right road and, again, local advice was taken - we continued long the long, bumpy and dusty way. The dust was as fine as talcum powder and as soon as we slowed down, the cloud that followed us caught up and it was like being in a fog.. We, eventually, turned left on to a tarmac road but unfortunately this soon reverted to another long and bumpy road but this wasn't as dusty.
The road went on, farmed land eventually gave way to open plains with the occasional Thompson's Gazelle and eventually turned away from the hills to which we had been driving parallel for some time. This started to worry me as I knew from maps I'd looked at that the NR gate through which we were supposed to enter, was tucked under such hills. So - again - we took local advice and, thankfully, it was confirmed that we were indeed still going the right way.
Going through a small Massai village - a scattering of huts and a few sparse shops, the 'right' road turned into a closed road : the road had been washed away and was no longer viable - even for our trusty Landy.
By this time, the light was definitely beginning to fade and thoughts of having to put up camp next to a Massai village were starting to float through my tired brain. More local advice and some quite emphatic directions - he was even prepared to come with us to guide us through the diversion. Unfortunately, we did not have a spare seat as the massive bedding bag was taking up any spare room on the rear seats. Despite such emphatic directions, we soon lost the plot. Local advice was yet again sought - Why, oh why did we loose the GPS ? ! This brought home our arrogance that everybody understands or speaks English, when all we received in response to our questions was a smile and/or a blank stare.
Eventually, I saw a Manyatta (a group of huts surrounded by a thorn boma) outside of which were a number of tourist safari vehicles. Getting a bit disparate, I headed off across country in a straight line to see if they could help us. One of the guides offered to show us the way, if we would pay his Picpic (motorcycle taxi) fare back - this time Mary vacated her front seat and crammed herself in the back.
On the right road and our guide thanked & paid, we were soon at the Oloololo Gate and its adjacent campsite - no way were we going to make it to the Serena public campsite, yet alone our booked on at Kiboko. We waved our paperwork purchased in Nairobi and said we would sort everything out in the morning.
The campsite was already home to a large overland truck full of Spanish travelers but we managed to fit in around the edge. As we started to put up our tents, it started to rain. Whilst Mary and Michele immediately received assistance from a number of handsome neighbours, Bob and I struggled on alone ! Our evening meal was quick sandwiches and we were soon in bed. I slept through the Spaniards returning, surprisingly quietly, from watching their team win the World Cup but did surface briefly when Hyena raided the camp's rubbish dump.
A long and trying day but at least we are now in the Mara !
Saturday, 10 July 2010
To Hells Gate and back !
We'll at least for the other three as I decided to have a quiet day around camp. The others came back with tales of their adventures around the rocks, sulphur springs and geothermic steam - they even saw a few animals. Almost as important was that they had purchased a supply of firewood to sustain us during our stay in the Mara.
Just as I was attempting to stow the wood securely on the roof of the Landy, the heavens opened and rain came down in stair rods. I was, despite a waterproof jacket, quickly soaked and the others, probably wisely, decided to take shelter in their tents. Once soaked, it seemed logical (at the time) to carry on and get the wood secure and dry on the roof. Once done, I headed to the bar and, before anybody noticed, headed to the toilet to put my trousers back on (I'd worked in my underpants only). I grabbed a hot drink, sat hogged the fire and watched the rain whilst waiting for the others to emerge from their shelters.
As the next few nights were going to be self-catering, we had desided to eat at the bar and were fully entertained by a not too noisy local stag night.
Just as I was attempting to stow the wood securely on the roof of the Landy, the heavens opened and rain came down in stair rods. I was, despite a waterproof jacket, quickly soaked and the others, probably wisely, decided to take shelter in their tents. Once soaked, it seemed logical (at the time) to carry on and get the wood secure and dry on the roof. Once done, I headed to the bar and, before anybody noticed, headed to the toilet to put my trousers back on (I'd worked in my underpants only). I grabbed a hot drink, sat hogged the fire and watched the rain whilst waiting for the others to emerge from their shelters.
As the next few nights were going to be self-catering, we had desided to eat at the bar and were fully entertained by a not too noisy local stag night.
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