Chapter Thirteen: The Mara River, Great Migration & Farewell

Morning on the Mara River

Two members of our group had chosen a 4:30 a.m. hot-air-balloon experience.

The rest of us chose another luxury:

Sleep.

Our safari departure was scheduled for 8 a.m.

At 7:15, I enjoyed my scheduled Talking Shower and prepared for another day in the Serengeti.

The morning began gently.

Colorful East African birds greeted us along the route.

Monkeys moved through the trees. 

 

Antelopes grazed nearby.

Waterbucks stood around the Mara River looking at us as though asking:

What are you people doing up this early?

Several enormous hippopotamuses were submerged in the Mara River, keeping cool beneath the surface.

Every so often, one would rise just enough to breathe, inspect the surroundings and disappear again.

Nearby were zebras and birds.

And then we noticed the crocodiles.

Several rested on rocks along the river.

One crocodile began moving suspiciously close to the hippos.

What exactly it was planning, I don’t know.

But challenging a group of hippos did not seem like a particularly good career decision.

At that moment, one hippo lifted itself farther out of the water—just enough for us to capture the photograph we had been waiting for.

Then it disappeared again.

Almost as if it knew.

The Reality of the Migration

As we drove toward the airstrip to collect our balloon-flying friends, we crossed the Mara River area and encountered another side of nature.

Several dead wildebeest lay near the river.

Our guides explained that this, too, is part of the migration.

Not every animal completes the journey.

And nature wastes very little.

Vultures—the Serengeti’s cleanup crew—would eventually do their work.

For the first time during our safari, there was also a noticeable smell of death.

It was a reminder that the Great Migration isn’t a Disney production.

It is survival.

We soon reached the airstrip and found our two friends.

Their smiles told us everything.

From the balloon, they had watched the Serengeti from perhaps 100–200 feet above the ground and spotted lions, leopards and other wildlife from an entirely different perspective.

Maybe next time.

Hot-air balloon over the Serengeti: officially added to the list.

Waiting for the Great Crossing

After collecting them, we returned toward the Mara River.

More crocodiles.

More hippos.

More extraordinary stillness.

Then our guide took us to another lion pride resting beneath the shade of a tree.

A giraffe wandered in the distance.

And beyond them came one of the most extraordinary views of the trip.

A sea of wildebeest and zebras.

A sea of wildebeest and zebras.

Thousands seemed to stretch across the landscape.

They stood there.

Waiting.

These were animals participating in the migration and potentially preparing for a river crossing.

But they had apparently not crossed during the previous couple of days.

We waited and hoped.

Nothing.

Nature doesn’t follow tour schedules.

The famous Mara River crossing was one experience we had hoped to witness but didn’t.

And strangely, I was okay with that.

Safari teaches you quickly that the animals are not performers.

There is no showtime.

No guarantee.

No second take.

You simply arrive and see what nature decides to reveal.

Before us stood what looked like an enormous army of wildebeest and zebras waiting for their marching orders.

Perhaps tomorrow.

Perhaps the next day.

But not today.

Warthogs, Hyenas and Border Control

Continuing along the river, a little warthog suddenly came running across the landscape.

Where was it going?

No idea.

But warthogs always seem to look as though they’re late for an important meeting.

Farther ahead, we found a group of hyenas sunbathing beside the track.

They were stretched out peacefully, apparently unconcerned by everything around them.

Eventually, we continued toward the Tanzania–Kenya border.

Waiting nearby were elephants.

Naturally, I decided they were the local immigration and customs officials.

They were apparently responsible for ensuring everyone respected the border rules—rules which, of course, did not apply to them.

We stopped for photographs, briefly stepped onto the Kenyan side to tick another country off the list, and continued on.

Elephants.

Ostriches.

Wildebeest.

Endless landscapes.

Then back to camp for lunch and a little rest.

At 4 p.m., we headed out again.

One final evening safari.

And the Serengeti had saved another surprise.

The Leopard Catwalk

The evening began with what had now somehow become “normal.”

The Leopard Catwalk

The evening began with what had now somehow become “normal.”

Wildebeest.

Elephants and Birds.

Clouds in the distance.

Then our guide spotted something high in a tree.

Another leopard.

Once again, we were initially alone.

Our guide and driver’s ability to locate wildlife continued to amaze us.

We parked almost directly beneath the tree.

Above us, stretched across the branches, was the leopard.

Sleeping.

We photographed it from every angle.

Then something happened.

The leopard woke up.

It stood.

Walked along the branch.

Climbed down the tree.

And then walked directly in front of our vehicle.

If the previous day’s leopard had wanted privacy, this one apparently wanted a photoshoot.

It was the perfect Serengeti catwalk.

Step.

Pause.

Pose.

Walk.

Another pose.

Then it disappeared into the bushes, settled down and resumed resting.

Show over.

The light was fading.

It was time to return to camp.

And I couldn’t imagine a better ending to our final full day in the Serengeti.

Last Night Under the African Sky

Back at camp, nobody wanted the evening to end too quickly.

We gathered around the fire with drinks and talked about the day.

The lions.

The cubs.

The leopard.

The Mara River.

The wildebeest.

The elephants.

The Talking Shower.

Then we looked upward.

Far away from city lights, the Serengeti night sky revealed itself.

Stars covered the darkness.

We pointed our cameras upward, curious to discover which stars and planets had been watching us all along.

Sitting beside a fire beneath that enormous African sky, it began to sink in:

Our safari was almost over.

Goodbye, Serengeti

After dinner, we returned to our tents for one final night.

The next morning, our 12-seat aircraft would take us back to Arusha Coffee Lodge.

From there, everyone would begin the journey home.

My friend and I had an especially painful departure schedule: a 5 a.m. flight, meaning we needed to leave the hotel around 1:30 in the morning.

Travel does occasionally remind you that paradise has check-out times.

Looking back, though, there was very little anyone in our group would have changed.

Tanzania had exceeded our expectations.

So had the Serengeti.

And throughout the journey, our guides, drivers, camp teams and the entire Abercrombie & Kent operation had turned an extraordinary destination into an extraordinary experience.

Over seven unforgettable days on safari, our group of six became more than just fellow travelers. Sharing game drives, meals, laughter, incredible wildlife encounters and the occasional long, dusty road created friendships that felt surprisingly natural in such a short time.

When it was finally time to say goodbye, there were hugs, exchanged contact information and genuine promises to stay in touch. We arrived in Tanzania as six travelers from different walks of life and left as friends, connected forever by seven extraordinary days in the African wilderness.

But perhaps what I will remember most is how little the animals seemed to care that we were there.

The lions walked beside us.

The elephants continued feeding.

The hippos disappeared beneath the river.

The leopard climbed down from its tree.

The wildebeest waited for a signal only they understood.

Life in the Serengeti simply continued.

For a few days, we were fortunate enough to sit quietly in the middle of it and watch.

There is an old saying:

“All good things must come to an end.”

Maybe.

But the best journeys don’t completely end.

They become stories.

They become photographs.

They become memories you revisit years later and, for a moment, you can still hear the wildebeest, smell the rain, see the lions walking toward you and feel the vastness of the African sky.

Thank you, Tanzania.

For the landscapes.

For the wildlife.

For the people who welcomed us.

For the unexpected moments.

And for reminding us just how extraordinary this planet still is.

We came to Tanzania looking for a safari.

We left with memories that will last a lifetime.

— Atlas Walker
Triyana Diaries