April 27th – May 3rd, 2022 (TLDR? There is a youtube video at the end of this post, or on my youtube channel, @stuckinlowgear)

The Rusumo border crossing from Rwanda into Tanzania was pretty painless, but now we were in northwest Tanzania with no good camping options. More or less right after the border the north side of the road follows the edge of newly gazetted Burigi-Chato National Park. There isn’t a lot of info available on this park but we had a notion to go and see if we could organize some informal camping at the gate.

Western Tanzania is a lot less populated than the rest of the country, traffic consisted of the occasional big truck. The road was in reasonable condition with some parts getting a new layer of chip seal added. The terrain is bush and scrubland on lazy hills, nothing like the steep green hills of Rwanda with its busy terraced farms. 

Soon after we made the turn for Burigi-Chato we passed what looked like a ranger post, abandon. A little further on the gate had a sign proclaiming the park fees, but it was open and no one was in attendance.

Another road branched off, marked “Private – No Entry.” We went a 100 or so meters up that road to find a new building. Here we met one of the rangers who was surprised to see us. His English wasn’t very good and our Swahili still perfunctory, so we struggled to communicate that we hoped to camp nearby.

He eventually called his supervisor on the phone, who in turn called his supervisor, and eventually to our surprise we were denied and told to head down the road to stay at one of the guesthouses in the next village.

Rolling through the next village we eye’d the guesthouses. They were modest to say the least and we were not enthusiastic about them, deciding to continue on. There was one campsite marked on the map, but after bumping down a little used side road for a while it proved to be a phantom.

Back at the main road there was an old quarry, from some old road maintenance project. Quarries like this are common throughout Africa and are oft recommended as good places to wild camp. The land isn’t in use for anything else and it provides a flat spot that hopefully you can get out of sight of the road. 

Tonight we continued the tradition, our first quarry camp. We tucked ourselves all the way in the back and felt pretty good about our spot. There was no fire tonight, we had pasta and watched the sky. Dark rain clouds passed to the south of us and we had a peaceful night. 

The successful night’s wild camping made us feel like real overlanders for once. Some people do that almost all the time, but it isn’t really our style of travel. Feeling good we hit the road.

The day was pretty uneventful, a fairly long drive to the city of Kigoma. After we turned south the road changes to gravel. We’d driven most of this road in 2018, going the other direction. There were still road crews and heavy equipment working, getting ready to tar this stretch, as there had been in 2018. It seemed no progress had been made in the intervening years. 

A steady rain came down as we drove and the Cruiser got covered in the dark red mud that is prevalent in this part of Africa, so red that it can stain your clothes or even the white paintwork if left on the car too long. 

I have long talked up The Count of Monte Christo to Jenny, and she suggested we tackle the audiobook version, all 52 hours of it!. Alexandre Dumas’ epic tale is still excellent and made the kilometers pass by quickly. We rolled into Kigoma in the afternoon with enough time to pick up a couple things in town and stop by the Mahale/Gombe Information Center.

We still hadn’t settled on our route south and wanted to ask here about the roads. Mahale National Park lies to the south, along the lakeshore, and Gombe to the north. Both are parks well known for chimpanzees. Reportedly April is one of the worst months to visit, and we’d just seen chimps in Uganda, so Mahale wasn’t really on our list. However the road down there looked interesting. Whether it’s even possible to drive there is a question I’d seen online a few times, so we thought we’d stop in at the info center and get the story from the source.

The ranger at the information center told us the road to Mahale, the R332, is in good condition, no problem there. This runs along the lake shore as far as the northern edge of Mahala National Park. You can’t however drive all the way into the park. At the southern end of the road there is a ranger station and you’d have to leave your car there and take a boat the rest of the way, which he quoted at 300,000 TSH (~$130 USD). 

A few kilometers north of the end of the road is a track that cuts inland and hooks up with the T9, the regular thoroughfare that connects the north and south of Western Tanzania. Information on this road is scant and we hoped the rangers from the park would know the latest. 

Our information center ranger told us that someone had driven this road not too long ago, but that they reported back was that it wasn’t recommended, that it was densely overgrown. We pressed him to call the rangers at Mahale and ask them for a more up to date report and he obliged.

Remarkably the person that answered the phone had recently driven the road, informing us that the park staff uses it sometimes. The report was that the beginning was very rough and requires a “strong car,” but after a certain village (who’s name was not on the map) it was easy going. This matched recent reports on iOverlander, which also said that the beginning was awful, but after that no problem. Though ominously more than one iOverlander person had given up and turned back.

With this fresh intelligence we retired to the overlanders’ standby of Jakobson’s Beach Campsite just south of town. We’d been here before and it felt nice to know where we staying. It was giving us a nice confidence to be familiar with some of these out of the way places. 

Jakobson’s was as we left it. The campsite is down the hill, set in the trees and just above the lake. There isn’t much of a lake view, because of all the trees, but there is a little bit and it’s just a few steps to get down to the lake. We hiked up to one of the lookouts close to the top of the hill for the sunset.

Jakobson’s used to have a few zebra that roamed the grounds. In 2018 we’d asked about them and Jakobson himself said they were here when he arrived and started the camp and they just stuck around. Sadly there is only one zebra left, the others have moved on. Apparently he is a bit lonely, but he didn’t stop in to check on us. 

The Mahale – Bamboo Valley Lakeshore Road, the R332

This road is rarely driven and accounts of it are even more rare, so forgive me, I will go into some detail. 

The information we had on the lakeshore road seemed pretty up to date so we decided to go for it. After topping up on fuel we hit the road. The first stretch is tar, back tracking a bit on the road into Kigoma. 

At the junction we locked the hubs and went into 4×4, anticipating a lousy road. Instead we found the road to be…perfect. There is something about a good gravel road that is even nicer than tar. With the tire pressures lowered the Cruiser is true to its name, cruising along eating up the kilometers with ease.

We cruised and cruised, disbelieving how good the road was. The countryside wizzed by, palm trees and green lands and red dirt. The road brought us through the occasional small village. In between villages we saw people on bicycles, walking and the occasional motorcycle. Life was good. 

After a while we came to a river crossing, barely a hundred meters wide, serviced by a small ferry. A little after we arrived it departed the opposite shore and not long after disembarked a few vehicles, a lot of motorcycles and even more pedestrians. 

Jenny procured a ticket for us. It was very cheap, about .50 cents US for one person and $2.50 for a vehicle and driver. After some waiting around the crew waved us on and we drove aboard along with another vehicle. After that the rest of the ferry was filled to the brim with motorcycles and pedestrians. Only a few minutes later the crossing was done and we drove off in a hustle and bustle people and vehicles.

The road from here on was narrower, still in great shape. Mostly it is set back from the lakeshore, but we often got good views. One map showed a road that was a loop down to the lake, passing through a village. Jenny piloted us on this scenic detour and after crossing a rocky stream we entered a village and were greeted by a lot of friendly locals, mostly waving enthusiastically, though a few just gave us curious looks. The reason for the curious looks became obvious when we reached a dead end, this was not a through road.

After turning around we drove through the village again, returning all the waves once more as we backtracked.

Later in the afternoon we began to work on where to camp. On the map there’s a lodge at the very end of the road that we weren’t entirely convinced existed. If we stayed there we’d have to back track some kilometers to take the turn that would bring us inland to the T9, the main artery that runs north south through Western Tanzania. 

The other option was wild camp. There were a few promising areas on the map, where the road went down to the lakeshore. These spots would also not require us to back track in the morning. Unfortunately we found the stretch of shore that we thought might have some spots to not be as good as expected. Lake Tanganyika’s level has risen over the last few years due to consistent heavy rains in the basin. The lake had simply swallowed up the shore, and potential camp spots.

Our choices were a quarry well within sight of the road, a lovely beach spot well within sight of the road, and the mystery lodge that might not exist another 30 or so km down the way. There were a few hours in the day left, we decided to scope out the beach spot and see how it felt, we had enough time to move on if we didn’t feel comfortable. 

We 4×4’d our way though a short patch of deep sand to find a nice level spot about 20’ from the beach and 20’ from the road, with some brush to obstruct the view of only the most unobservant of passerby. 

The sun’s heat beat down and the lake was calling. We had a decadent swim in cool clear water. The beach was made from sand and thousands of perfect flat skipping stones. I tried to revive lessons of my childhood, skipping stones across the water. We lounged in our camp chairs at the lake shore and declared this spot great. Forebodingly to the south we could see the rugged Mahale mountains being lashed by rain squalls, likely drenching the rough track we hoped to pass tomorrow.

Occasionally a couple people would walk down the road but nobody gave us more than a glance and a wave. Even though this spot violated one of our core wild camping tenants, don’t be within sight of the road, we felt pretty good about this spot. 

A group of three teenage girls walked by and stopped to gawk and ponder what our story was. We waved and they giggled, and one boldly lead the others over to see what we were up to. They didn’t speak more than a couple words of english, but with that and our smattering of Swahili we had a nice time. Their presence sort of unlocked the flood gates on local visitors and not long after we had a crowd around us. 

I busted out our little photo album from home, which has photos of our house, some California landscapes and the work we do. This was a huge hit and each photo was studied and discussed in depth. One boy spoke a bit of english and I could explain the photos to him, and then he would translate for the rest of the group. 

Evening was drawing near and Jenny started cooking dinner, a veggie stir fry on rice. This generated a lot of interest and discussion as well. We wondered if everyone was going to stick around and try to join us for dinner, but we wouldn’t have near enough. 

We managed to also ask permission to camp here from one of the older people. They nodded their approval. I asked another person, “Sisi lala hapa?” (this is not the proper way to ask, it should be something like Tunaweza kupiga kambi hapa?). They also responded with an indifferent shrug and “Ndio. Sawa.” (Yes. Okay.) We were glad of their approval. Of course it’s no guarantee, but if we were camped in some place that was totally unsafe they would have warned us.

Sunset was near and the group started to trickle away, leaving our original girls and a couple fishermen hanging out to the end. The girls were our favorite. Even out here in rural Tanzania, where these girls lived in huts of mud and wore muslim headscarves, in a world so different from our own, they seemed incredibly normal. Sassy, funny and inquisitive; just regular teenage girls. Eventually they headed off, waving goodbye.

We had a nice dinner of stir fried rice and vegetables, sitting our our chairs with the lapping waters of the lake just a couple feet away.

At dusk the clouds moved in and rain was imminent. We packed up camp, leaving nothing out for the rain or this exposed wild camp. At night we heard intermittent rain tap against the tent. A couple times in the night I woke to the sound of vehicles passing, their headlights flashed across the tent and I’m sure they couldn’t have missed seeing us, but nobody stopped and we slept relatively well. 

Driving Through Bamboo Valley to the T9

Morning came early, the pink light of dawn colored the lake and stormy clouds from last night’s rain were dispersed in the sky around us. It was a big day today. Would we be able to pass the Bamboo Vally road?

The first kilometers were easy, we had yet to make the turn east. It was obvious that we had chosen a decent place to camp last night, as not far south it became fairly populated.

Rain from the night before had cleared out the sky and everything seemed to be rendered in high definition. Crystal clear colors popped, a deep blue sky, white cottony cumulous clouds, the brick red dirt road, bright green palms and every leaf and blade of grass was rinsed clean of dust. It was a beautiful day for our small adventure.

We drove across a long bailey bridge and the GPS said the turn inland was ahead. Eventually the GPS ticked down the “distance to turn” to 0 meters and we stopped, scanning the bush for the road. 

That’s the road? A dark muddy track dove down a short embankment and wove through tall grass and out of sight, very narrow for a vehicle. But we could see clear paths of foot prints in the mud, a few boda boda tracks, and thankfully one full set of tire tracks.

This was it. The tire tracks made us feel a lot better, they must have passed recently. The rain hadn’t washed away their tracks, so the road was at least passable, or had been before yesterday’s rain anyway.

Down the embankment we went, straight into slick black mud. With 4×4 engaged we picked our way along and the cruiser did well. Soon we saw a few people and they just stepped off the track to let us pass, significantly they didn’t wave us down to ask what we were doing. Another small clue that lead us to believe this wasn’t a totally hare brained idea. 

The mud and rough track persisted, sometimes so narrow that tall green grass standing as high as the cruiser hissed down both sides of the car, but we kept seeing the occasional reassuring tire track of another vehicle before us and we kept going. 

Jenny got out to walk a small stream, thigh deep, and let the guys washing their motorcycles and bicycles in the water that a vehicle was coming through. They politely moved aside and the cruiser marched across the stream.

In a few spots there were steep muddy hills and we stopped to let a few boda bodas make the tricky traverse up or down these slopes. It was incredible to see them navigate these tracks on their simple Chinese made motorcycles with street tires. On more than one occasion we saw them take a slow speed spill on a slippery section. 

The Ranger we talked to in Kigoma said that the road was bad until we made it to a particular village, but this village wasn’t on the map. iOverlander had a few reports of transiting this track. One indicated that after 10 kilometers we’d be in the clear. Another said “Don’t do it, I turned back after 15 km.” 

So far we felt like we were managing well. The track was narrow to be sure, and had a few slick spots, but so far the cruiser hadn’t even thought about getting stuck and the views were amazing. This was proper rural Tanzanian countryside, mostly wilderness with occasional small hold farms and tiny villages and people seemed really friendly.

We Get Stuck

The Cruiser bounced along rocky climbs, squished through muddy swales and grass and brush hissed and scraped down the side of the vehicle as the kilometers ticked off. Five kilometers. Eight Kilometers. Ten kilometers. We were getting more optimistic that this might actually work out, having decided that after 15 kilometers we’d be in the clear. 

It was not to be. Exactly one hour since we turned onto this track, 11.5 kilometers in, (which gives you an idea of how slow going it was) we got stuck. There had been a good stretch of road and we were thinking that maybe we’d made it. Then there was a stream crossing near a village, with a few people walking across a muddy bridge or ford of sorts made of logs, with the river washing over and under it. 

The bridge didn’t seem wide enough for the cruiser so I pointed us to the right and went on ahead, expecting us to sail through like we had the previous stream crossings. And we did, almost. Right at the end we got stuck. This caused something of an uproar from the locals, who had been eyeing us already with that “Are they going to make it?” face. 

With the diff locks engaged and in low range we tried to back up and try again, but after a couple tries it was hopeless, I had dug us in, the rear axel buried in the mud. In retrospect I think if we had got out the Max Trax right in the beginning we could have been out of there in a few minutes, we had almost been across. 

Immediately the locals gathered round us excitedly, offering help and yelling at us and each other in Swahili. This isn’t the first time this sort of thing has happened to us and it gets hectic very fast. We’d learned our lessons from before though. Quickly a leader identified himself to us who spoke English, saying they wanted to help. 

We entered into a short negotiation, for the help, though welcome, would be neither optional nor free. Also we wanted to keep the recovery as calm as possible. Right now there were just too many people pressing about us and the Cruiser.

In the end we settled on four helpers only, and that the leader must keep the rest of the people back. After the vehicle was unstuck we would pay him 40,000 TSH (~$17 USD), and he should pay out each helper 10,000. We happened to know that minimum wage in Tanzania is something like 5,000 a day, so 10,000 for an hour or two’s work should be welcome. He made a brief attempt at asking for more, but when I said no he was still happy.

He seemed satisfied with the arrangement and importantly seemed to understand our concern that we all have clear expectations so that nobody felt taken advantage of when all was said and done. He explained our terms to his selected helpers and they were also happy. 

Somehow he also said the magic words to keep the rest of the crowd back a little bit. What I wouldn’t give to know how to do that! They were of course going to stay and watch though, no doubt this was the best entertainment for a while.

This recovery would be quite similar to when we got stuck in the Lower Zambezi, only this wasn’t black cotton soil, making things a little easier. However here we wouldn’t be getting hauled out by a good samaritan like we had that time. This time we’d have to do it ourselves. 

The lesson from that event had been that though putting the Max Trax under the front tires was inviting, because it was so much easier, the rear wheels were the ones that were stuck we had to get the rear axel out of the mud. 

Immediately the locals started braking off branches of nearby trees, that serve as the Max Trax of Africa, but we got them to stop. They gave us a puzzled look, until Jennyclimbedup onto the spare wheels to get our twostudded orange recovery boards off the top of the vehicle. They understood immediately. We only have one shovel, and while they started digging out the mud in front of each tire Jenny and I got out the hi-lift jack. 

A hi-lift jack is one of those things that you hardly ever need. A big clumsy tool, low tech, heavy and dangerous. When you do need one it’s just about the only thing for the job. It comes with a lot of caveats though. They can lift the vehicle quite high and as the vehicle gets higher the angle changes and it’s not uncommon for the jack base to shift and the vehicle to fall, particularly risky if you’re working near the tires, say placing Max Trax or digging. (top tip: do all your digging first)

Also there’s a large handle to ratchet the vehicle up. Each stroke clicks the vehicle a notch higher, and as more weight bears on the jack each stoke is progressively harder. If you pull down on the handle and fail to engage the next click the bar will whip up violently, propelled by the weight of the car. Many an injury to the face or jaw has been sustained by this, the last thing we need out here. 

Since the axel is resting in mud and under water no conventional bottle jack will work in this situation. The Land Cruiser has aftermarket bumpers with jacking points, so that you can lift any corner of the vehicle from the bumper. There is no point in having a hi-lift jack without jacking points, a stock bumper would just rip off.

This would also be our first chance to use the hi-lift base plate we’d bought way back in Lusaka. A simple steel plate with steel cleats, in theory to spread out the load and keep the jack from sinking into the mud or the bottom kicking out.

In practice the whole plate wants to kick out under the load of the jack, but with some jiggery-pokery we got it to stay put. It took us three tries to get out. 

Jenny started placing the base plate and began jacking up one corner, but eventually she just wasn’t heavy enough to get the final clicks. We made sure that one of us was at the jack, to make sure no one got hurt, so her and I swapped. I worked with one helper jacking, and she worked with the others to place the Max Trax. Then we set the vehicle down on the Trax. 

For each attempt I drove and Jenny would spot and direct, making sure everyone was clear and telling me when to go and when to stop so as each attempt failed I didn’t dig the car in further by spinning the tires. This was all done barefoot, standing in calf deep mud and clear stream water running under the vehicle. Any shoes would have been sucked off our feet by the mud. 

The first two tries showed little to no progress. One time we tipped off the jack before we were ready, and on another attempt we only succeeded in burying one of our Max Trax deep in the mud, out of reach and impossible to use. It’s the first time we’ve thought that four Max Trax isn’t the worst plan.

On the third try we went with the more desperate, “drive off the jack” method. Again we lifted the corner of the vehicle and placed our only remaining Max Trax under the tire that had dug in the deepest. The jack had lifted the rear axel and diff mostly clear of the mud. By driving off the jack we were able to get those first crucial inches of progress. 

With much revving, fuss and mud splatter the Cruiser crept (I wanted to write “surged,” but that would be a lie) forward, the jack fell out of the rear lift point, and with both diff locks engaged we found purchase and drove onto dry ground.  

This was met with much amusement from the peanut gallery, though I’m not sure I’d go as far as rejoicing. It almost felt like they were disappointed that the entertainment was over. There was much rejoicing among Jenny, myself and our recovery team, fist bumps all around. 

They helped us clean off the mud from the recovery gear and put things away. I paid them and they were happy. We were off, wondering if that would be the last obstacle or not, remembering that report where one person had given up after 15 kilometers.

From here we found the road pretty fair going, more narrow tracks, more occasional muddy trenches or minor streams across the road. One long stretch of sticky black mud looked very ominous given our earlier labors. I gunned it and we crashed ahead, a muddy wave of spray  slapping against the windshield to cover it entirely. The windshield and the wipers pumped furiously and we made it through. It had been close and we hoped there wasn’t many more of those ahead.

That turned out to be the last of our major obstacles. Bit by bit the road improved and we climbed up the valley and through bucolic countryside. In the few villages people were friendly, smiles and waves, and in between it was all greenery and blue skies studded by white clouds.

The green spot marked “Bamboo Vally” on the GPS wasn’t as impressive as we hoped. Stands of thick bamboo ten meters tall sagged by the side of the road, looking dry and dying. Perhaps this is not bamboo season? 

Eventually the road turned into a regular graded dirt road and we made fast progress. In one spot trees flanked the road and Jenny noticed between them stretching across the road were dozens and dozens of spider webs with big fat spiders patiently waiting. Certainly we wouldn’t be stopping here for lunch! 

After a little over seven hours we made it to the tar. The original plan was to stop in Katavi National Park, but we have visited there twice and were feeling we’d had our fill of the Tanzanian parks fees. Instead we decided to push on to the oasis at Lake Shore Lodge. It was quite a bit further, but they were easy kilometers of good tar or quality graded dirt roads. After airing up the tires we put on our audio book and let the kilometers go by. 

An hour before sunset we rolled into Lakeshore Lodge, returning full circle to the beginning of the East Africa portion of this adventure. It felt like a bit of a homecoming. Owners Chris and Louise welcomed us warmly and we were able to squeeze in a shower and still managed to catch the sunset with a well earned sundowner.

The passage of time is hard to keep track of at Lakeshore as we ticked through our chore list. Days went by as we got laundry done, organized the vehicle, sent emails home and did some more trip planning. Distressingly we also noticed a big crack in our canopy. At first I thought this was a product of the rough Mahale road, but looking back through some photos it happened before that. 

It wasn’t raining here and we finally managed to dry everything out. We’d found mold under the tent mattress and we sorted that as well. This is the first place we’d been for weeks that it was dry and we were savoring this luxury. 

Lakeshore had a good cast of characters as guests and we enjoyed meeting everyone. There was an Egyptian couple interning with Chris and Louise, who were planning on opening up a cafe in Tanzania in the future. A German overlanding solo, a South African living in in Tanzania with his Spanish partner, and a well to do Tanzanian family on holiday for Eid (the end of Ramadan).

After some days it was time to go. We got back on the road, driving south the same route we had driven north back in December. After fueling in Sumbawanga we made for the small Kasesya border post. 

Crossing was pretty straightforward, and exactly five months to the day we found ourselves back in Zambia. As we drove the tarmac road south we both had unexpected feelings, reconciling that the East Africa portion of our expedition was over. 

In one way we were relieved to be out of the rain and back in the easier traveling of southern Africa. From here on infrastructure was better, roads (barring the terrible Great North Road of Zambia) were better, campsites more plentiful and used to independent travelers like ourselves. On the other hand there was less unknown ahead of us than behind and we would miss East Africa. 

Southern Africa has so much to do, and even now we knew that we wouldn’t have time to satisfy our ambitions for the time we have remaining. Namibia, Botswana and Zimbabwe awaited. A little more Zambia and maybe even Angola? We shall see. 

The Video

I made a youtube video of this, you can find it here.

The Nitty Gritty

Those familiar with northwest Tanzania might ask why after Rusomo we didn’t make for the Old German Boma to camp. Reports were that it is either close for renovation or closed due to covid. There are numerous quarries that might make for acceptable bush camps, though many could be seen from the road.

Kigoma

Jakobson’s Beach is 12,000 TSH pppn. The campsite has water, a shelter from the rain and a baboon proof shelter, though the baboons and monkeys left us alone. The ablutions are basic but totally fine with cold water showers. There is nothing fancy about Jakobson’s, but we like it here. There are decks with wonderful views of the lake and sunset at the top of the hill.

Sadly it seems the Liemba is no longer running, her maintenance period from 2018 having extended into purgatory. If someone doesn’t get her going soon I’m sure she’ll never be operational again. That is sort of my line of work and a friend of mine and I briefly entertained starting some sort of “Save the Liemba” non profit. I feel like she should have a UNESCO designation. 

In 2018 we got a tour of the Liemba by just showing up at the port. The port staff said that people come by from time to time to ask, and they summoned an english speaking guide, charged us $5 ea, and signed us into the security register. I don’t know if this is still on offer, but we really enjoyed our tour at the time. 

Kigoma has a good central market and a few small supermarkets. It’s the largest city in NW Tanzania and I’m sure travelers could get more or less anything they need, within reason, taken care of here. 

The R332 Mahale/Bamboo Valley Road

As I described above, the road that runs parallel to the lakeshore is excellent. You could drive it in any 2WD vehicle. If you want to drive this route I would definitely advise checking in with the rangers at the Gombe-Mahale Information office in Kigoma for up to date road conditions.

The Bamboo Valley portion of the R332 was, obviously, drivable even after recent rain. I don’t think you’re likely to break you car on this route, just that it is slow, sometimes muddy, rocky and the narrow spots not good for your paint work. If there has been rain I would say that you’re likely to get stuck, be prepared to get yourself unstuck. I imagine that in the dry season this route would be rough but fine to drive.

Recovery Lessons

This is the hi-lift base plate we wanted, but we never have found them in stock. It’s lighter than the steel one we have now, and has holes to stake it down and help prevent sliding. We used to have a piece of wood, but we broke it, and the jack seems to just slide off it anyway. Placing the jack securely we found to be the hardest part of using one.

Max Trax come with a nylon webbing strap to put around the handle. They seem a little ridiculous, but they’re super helpful. The weight of the vehicle drove our Max Trax deep into the mud and they disappeared in the mud entirely. The webbing strap helps you find the board again and you can yank on it to get the Max Trax out of the mud. 

TZ Wild Camp (approx. S5° 46.291′ E29° 56.427’) > Lakeshore Lodge via the R322 Bamboo Vally Road: 416km 11h 38m

TZ Wild Camp > T9 Junction (tar) 173 km, 7h 14m 

Jan 9th – 16th, 2022

The plan was to leave the Serengeti from the less used Klein’s Gate in the northeast. This would bring us to the Lake Natron area, aka Loliondo Game Controlled Area (GCA).

From what we’d read, this would be a rough dirt track, slow going through real Maasai land. Eventually we would arrive at the shores of Lake Natron, a huge soda lake with lots of flamingos and rugged scenery.

My research on this route produced a lot of conflicting information. On one hand, the road might be slow going and impassable if wet. Another source said part of this notoriously bad stretch had recently been paved. I sort of hoped for the more authentic rough road, but we’d just have to go see for ourselves.

Another mystery was the permits to enter the Lake Natron area. One source said that permits must be obtained ahead of time, others that you could pay at the gate. I tried in vain to obtain permits in Arusha, but I couldn’t figure out how or where to do so. We defaulted to hoping for the best at the gate. In Africa there always seems to be a way forward. This uncertainty added to the adventure a bit, but was also a little frustrating. It is odd that the details of an attraction that they want people to visit are so difficult to confirm.

After a short and pleasant game drive from our Lobo campsite, we arrived at Klein’s Gate. Our park permits were scanned out by the ranger on duty, who said nothing about a fee or any sort of permit to proceed into the Loliondo area. I asked about this, and he looked around and pointed me to a man in a pink t-shirt. “He is the one who deals with this.” 

Pink t-shirt came over and began what was to be the first of many long winded, confusing and unproductive discussions on fees for Lake Natron. Apparently we could pay part here and the rest at the village of Engare Sero at the lake. Or we could just pay the whole thing at the lake. That it is optional we found a little strange. We opted for the latter, to pay everything at Engare Sero, not far from where we planned to camp.

Also at the gate we met Felix and Johanna, a young German couple on an extended trip similar to ours. They were traveling in a hardy looking Land Rover Defender 300 Tdi, looking the very picture of rugged African vehicular travel. We chatted a bit on our plans. 

They too were worried about fuel. As you may recall, we tried to fuel up at Seronera in the central Serengeti, but they were tapped out. Since then, we learned there is likely fuel in Wasso, a village we would drive through on the way to the lake. This somewhat relieved our range anxiety, but both team Felix/Johanna and we remained circumspect until we actually saw they had fuel. 

If they did have fuel, then it turned out that both of us had been eyeing wild camping in the WMA prior to heading to Lake. There is a little used track heading south from the small village of Sanjo towards the Ngorongoro Crater Area (NCA). Reportedly someways down this road, before entering the NCA, there was good wild camping to be had. We agreed that if there was fuel and if the road wasn’t too bad, perhaps we’d meet up later and wild camp together somewhere. 

What about the road? Looking past the gate, it appeared the road was freshly graded gravel. I asked Mr. Pink Shirt, and he said that the road is tar, starting right here. It seems this notoriously intrepid track was now tarred. I was a little disappointed, but I’m sure the locals are happy. With that news we pulled out the air compressor and aired up the tires to street pressure while Jenny simultaneously mocked and consoled me about the new tar road. Lake Natron was a big travel goal, and tar or not, we were still keen on exploring the area.

Into the Loliondo Game Controlled Area

Starting out the road was actually very soft dirt, it was clear from the heaps of gravel that they were still working on this part. With our hard tires we sank in and almost got stuck, but we managed to power through, around a truck that was stuck. Perhaps the tar would start just around the corner?

Immediately the landscape changes with signs of humans and livestock. Not dramatically, but all the grass is grazed down to the nub, and there are fewer trees. We started to see Massai with their herds of goats and cattle. The Maasai were dressed in that curious combination of western and traditional dress. Almost always with their checkered red or blue kaross wraps, a dagger and herding stick. But also with cell phones and sometimes with a western jacket or backpack.

The road became a good gravel road. It wasn’t the intrepid track I imagined, but also not the tar we’d been told. We were getting rattled pretty good with our hard tires, and we finally pulled over and aired down to soften the ride a bit. 

The road winds its way between hills and broad valleys and through some villages. We saw battered old Land Rovers doing hard service as the local bus line, but otherwise almost no traffic. There were also great huge stands of candelabra euphorbia all over and some white flowers that looked like some relation to morning glory. It was clear it had been raining, with short green grass and flowers in evidence.

On we went, meandering through the countryside of Maasai bomas, herds of livestock, candelabras and the occasional wave from a local. After a while we dropped down the hillside into the small town of Wasso, a bigger hub than I’d guessed from the map. We drove past a large compound with the typical high fence of corrugated sheet metal and Chinese writing on it. Inside was heavy equipment. This matched similar compounds we’d seen all over Africa, China’s belt and road initiative in action. And in the distance, the long promised tar road. 

To our relief, Wasso did have fuel. Topped up we now felt free to perhaps explore the fringes of this area a bit and perhaps bush camp. Heading south from Wasso we learned that the new road was not ready for service yet, so we bumped and bounced along the service road adjacent to the brand new tar. 

About half way to our next landmark, the village of Sanjo, the tar road was in service. We heaved the cruiser over the berm and wizzed down this brand new road. Even though it was perfectly smooth and wide, it had been built with some engineering that was optimistic. This was the sort of road that causes a lot of truck accidents, full of sharp hairpin turns and very steep grades. 

We dropped lower in elevation, and the climate became dryer. There were fewer euphorbias and rocks, more acacias, dust and sand. They seemed optimistic about the trade that this new road would bring because with hardly any traffic, we were surprised to enter a large roundabout at the village of Sanjo. This was our decision point to head to Lake Natron, or dive off to the south to wild camp. 

Jenny and I do not wild camp often. In spite of what it might seem, just as at home, all the land you see is owned by someone. To wild camp you really need to obtain permission from the owner. In Africa this is typically not hard. We hear many reports of locals hospitably inviting travelers to camp on their land.

Many overlanders are almost professional wild campers, tucking their rigs into all sorts of places, hardly ever paying for camping or having any trouble. However, I am fairly sure that usually these people are effectively “stealth” camping, that is camping without permission in places they might be asked to pay, or taking hospitality instead of requesting it. Usually these same overlanders are respectful, camping for a short time, leaving no trace and heading out in the morning. But we have no interest in stealth camping. We want where we sleep to be safe, respectful and without concern.

All that said, there is something exhilarating about pulling up next to an inviting looking tree somewhere in the middle of the wilderness and making it your camp for the night. Given that this land was designated a game controlled area, and that we’d seen a few reports of people camping down here, we thought this might be an appropriate and safe place to wild camp. 

Off the tar we went, onto a dusty track. After a short stop for lunch by the road, we bumped back into Felix and Johanna. They had also found fuel, and we agreed that we should travel together to wild camp somewhere close to the GCA/NCA boundary, some kilometers to the south. 

Jenny drove, leading our small convoy, and the road began to have long runs of ultra fine bull dust, as fine as pastry flour. When we’d plunge into one of these runs of dust, huge clouds would billow up behind us and we’d loose all sight of our new companions. We had noted that they did not have air conditioning and they must be suffering in the dust clouds. We swapped positions, they now in the lead and we feeling pretty smug about our a/c. They forged ahead as the track wound south, disappearing behind opaque curtains of dust at times. I had fears that we’d forge into one of these clouds and drive over some goats, or worse, people, so we hung back.

Passing through a village we got a few curious stares and half hearted waves, but no-one seemed unfriendly. Stopping to confer with our new companions, they confirmed that the dust was horrible. Land Rovers are famous for, among other more admirable qualities, having poor dust sealing. Even sweating in the cab with the windows rolled up, they were being inundated and were keen to find camp soon. 

We always struggle when picking a wild camp site, part of why we don’t do it often. Our criteria are: 

• Out of sight of the road
• Legal (or at the very least not obviously trespassing)
• Camp late enough in the day that if someone does see you, it’s less likely they’ll have time to  pass word back to the village, where unsavory types might get ideas about paying a nighttime visit
• Actually a nice place to camp

With our companions in the lead this time, we felt relived of the burden of camp selection. Eventually they pulled a little way off the track under the shade of some acacia trees. We remarked to ourselves that this spot broke our rules, not being off the road and it being early in the afternoon. Also, in hindsight, its legal status was unclear. Nevertheless we were taken with the exploratory feelings of the day and feeling compassion for our new friends suffering in the dust and heat of their vehicle, so we accepted. 

There was a genial air to the afternoon as we got to know each other and set up camp. A giraffe wandered by, and in the distance, we saw gazelles against the dramatic silhouette of Ol Doinyo Lengai, The Mountain of God, whose active volcanic peak reaches nearly 3000 meters. Camping in this wild place, with striking scenery and new friends, we felt we were really having a proper African adventure. 

We swapped travel stories and took tours of each others vehicles, confessing niggles that needed fixing and appreciating various features of each other’s respective set ups. 

A couple locals wandered over, dressed in traditional clothing and having the stretched out earlobes common among Maasai. We later saw this often, but one had his earlobes stretched out enough that he had looped them over the top of his ear. They spoke no English and we no Maasai and little Swahili, but we motioned and pantomimed in a friendly manner, and all seemed well. 

Later on another local came, who seemed a little less friendly and a bit agitated. This raised a warning flag for us. Eventually we understood that he wanted us to pay to camp here and that we’d require protection, though protection from what was unclear. 

The language barrier was pretty high, and we were struggling to understand. Finally he told us the village chairman was going to come, and he had messaged him on his phone. Incongruously, in this remote setting of giraffes, thorns and Maasai, we had cell signal. The whole feeling of the afternoon had taken a bit of a turn, and I started to really regret not chatting with someone in the village to the north before camping here.

As we waited for the chairman, a man came up and rattled off some Swahili. We’d just been chatting with Felix and Johanna about how we don’t give things to people begging, like kids asking for sweets or random people asking for money. But I could tell that this guy was asking for water. When you’re in the desert and someone asks for water, that doesn’t seem like begging to me. 

Jenny gave him a bottle of water, and he was clearly grateful. He drank heartily and offered the empty bottle back to us. Jenny tried to tell him he could keep it. We’ve often been asked for empty water bottles since they have many second hand uses. He didn’t understand and held out the bottle to us. Jenny again tried to say he could keep it. Finally, he just threw the bottle on the ground in our camp and walked away. 

This came as a shock to all of us. Our western sensibilities were affronted all at once, littering and right in the camp of those who had just given him water. I’m sure he didn’t see it that way. Littering is very common here and not seen as a negative the way it is at home. He simply didn’t need the bottle and didn’t want to carry it around. Still, even as we tried to accept this culture, we struggled to not be offended.

We continued our wait for the chairman, the issue of camping still pending. It was a good lesson, that we should listen to ourselves, I was not looking forward to figuring this out. But since the village chairman was coming, then presumably we’d get it all sorted out soon enough, though I did not feel good about him having to come to us instead of the other way around. 

After quite a while, a motorcycle showed up with three people. They got off, and one spoke pretty good English, introducing the village chairman and one of his advisors. We exchanged greetings but they did not seem all that friendly. Pretty quickly they insisted that we pay them to camp here, 30,000 TSH (roughly $15 USD) per person plus 20,000 TSH for a guard. This seemed quite a price for bush camping, but on the other hand, it is their land, and I suppose they can charge what they like, and it’s certainly our fault for not asking their permission first or getting further off the road. 

The whole conversation took a long time and did not go particularly well. In the end, we finally agreed that we would come to the village office the next morning to pay the camping fee. It turned out that the guy who called the village chairman in the beginning was also assigned to be our askari (guard). 

Since we’d finally come to an amicable solution we settled in for the evening. During our negotiations I had mentioned to the chairman that normally when paying $15 per person we get quite a few more amenities, and afterwards he lectured our askari, presumably to up the service a bit. He took it upon himself to find us some firewood. After the fire was going, he pulled up next to the fire and began to chat loudly on his phone, phone call after phone call, listening to music or watching youtube in between calls. Watching this man, dressed in his fully traditional outfit, earlobes looped over his hears, dagger in hand and watching youtube on his phone was very strange. 

He was being so loud we kept hoping he’d run out of phone credit, but he didn’t. Eventually Felix finally convinced him to take his calls away from camp. We all settled down and got over the distaste from how our negotiation went. Then it was back to swapping travel stories, sitting around the fire, all very pleasant. 

As we went to bed, I gave our askari a bottle of water, to which he said nothing. Again these small cultural differences were off putting, where I would have expected at least a perfunctory “asante” (thank you). Regardless our askari kept the fire going while we all went off to sleep. We heard the whoop of hyenas in the night. Was this perhaps what we needed protection from?

I got up in the early morning and found him awake. A perfectly smooth, clean rectangle of sand had been cleared by the fire, where I presume he slept. How he managed to clear this patch of sand of thorns, rocks and sticks is a mystery to me, but I’m sure this is a long practiced trick of the bush that every Maasai knows. He was up and about, and to my surprise, had not drank the water we’d given him last night. 

As I boiled water for coffee, I offered him tea. He nodded. I made the tea as the Kenyans I used to work with liked it, heavily sweetened with lots of milk. He took the tea and said nothing. He said a small prayer before drinking it while I made my coffee. After he finished, he handed the mug back to me and gave a quiet “Asante,” which gave me more pleasure than it should have. Stockholm syndrome perhaps?

Giraffes and gazelles were still wandering about in the distance, it was wonderful. After everyone was up and had breakfasted, we decided not to hang around. Since yesterday’s conversation with the village authorities hadn’t gone all that smoothly, Jenny and I volunteered to stop and sort it out, thinking fewer people might simplify things. 

We headed out, asking in the village, wapi ofisi, where is the office? On only our second try we found it, much easier than expected. Knowing that news travels fast in villages, I went in expecting they already knew our story. They didn’t, but after I explained that we had camped some kilometers south of the village, discussed the matter with the village chairman and that we were here to pay, they immediately understood. 

The night before, there had been some discussion on whether this was a shakedown or a legitimate charge. Curiously I asked if I could see the rate sheet for camping. The official had been leafing through a binder when I said this, and he flopped it open to the page just as I finished speaking. All be darned, there it was, the letter of explanation for camping fees. I have no issue at all paying official fees, and as he wrote out our receipt, we chatted. 

The rate sheet said 20,000 TSH, not 30,000, so I handed over 80,000 TSH, as we’d already paid the askari. He looked at me in surprise and said, “no, no, the fee is 30,000 per person, not 20,000.” I pointed out that his sheet said 20,000. He explained patiently to me that I could see the rate sheet was dated 2010, that it was now 2022 and the fee was now 30,000 TSH, to account for inflation. Not really expecting this to work, I responded that I was happy to pay the official rate, but since the rate sheet said 20,000, I would only pay 20,000. If they wanted to charge 30,000, then they should update their sheet. This prompted a short discussion amongst themselves, and to my surprise they ripped up the first receipt and rewrote one for 80,000, agreeing that I was right. The whole time these guys were very friendly. We chatted about the weather and the Serengeti and tourism in Tanzania.

All that finally finished, we headed out for Lake Natron. The ups and downs of our wild camp experience had sent me into a bit of a mental roller coaster, and we continued to ponder it through the morning.

At the office I asked if the tarmac continued from the Sanjo roundabout. He said it did, so we stopped and aired up the tires. While we were doing that, we attracted a few locals curious about what we were up to. One old man in a suit jacket came up to me and rattled off some Swahili, then held out a US dime. I realized he wanted me to exchange it for shillings as, obviously, ten US cents were of no use to him. So I did, for convenience giving him a very favorable exchange rate of 3000:1USD. He happily walked away with his 300 TSH. I wondered how long he’d been carrying that dime around in his pocket for just such an occasion. I don’t think many travelers stop in Sanjo.

Getting underway, we went through the roundabout, and the road immediately went to gravel. Wait, what was happening? Did this new tarmac road only go from Wasso to Sanjo? We pushed on, thinking it might be a break in the new road, but no, it wasn’t. The new road was only a segment in the middle. We had been duped again and had aired up for no reason. This made for a rough ride. Smiling at the irony, we finally conceded, pulled over and dropped the tire pressure again. 

We saw the humor in it, but still this sort of thing makes you question all interactions you have with locals. I had just been talking to two guys who spoke good english. I asked them if the road from the roundabout to Engare Sero was tar. They said yes, it was. How much more clear could it be? 

As we reflected on this, we went onward. The landscape had changed since Wasso. No more flowers and few candelabras, it was acacia scrubland mostly. Part way along there was a fork in the road. The main road went south, paralleling the lake but west of a ridge with the lake obscured from view. The other fork drove over the ridge, dropping steeply down to the lakeshore, and then went along the lakeshore all the way to our destination. This seemed more attractive to us, but T4A had a break in the road, saying it didn’t go through. Our other map said it did, with the warning “steep and rocky”. We thought we’d give it a try.

Lake Natron

This dusty track was narrow, but we could see tire tracks, a promising clue that the road did in fact go through. As we got closer to the lake, we could see more topography, rocky ridges and steep canyons. We slowly crept down little valleys and up rocky slopes, closer to the break in the map that might be our turnaround point. But it seemed this road did go through. We came around one steep bend and were greeted by our first views of the lake. 

It was glassy calm, and there were stunning reflections of the mountains on the shore, perfectly mirrored in the surface of the lake. It was a little hazy. The whole effect was surreal. The road became very steep as we dropped down towards the lake. A few hair pin turns had been paved for short distances, clearly the site of past washouts. In low range, we let the engine do the braking, and we dropped quickly down to lake level. 

The road skirts a village, and we drove in a dry riverbed for a short stretch before intersecting with the lake shore road. We had bridged the divide on the map and felt in the clear now. Heading south we could see the imposing cone of Ol Doinyo Lengai. 

The road meandered along some distance from the lake. We saw local Maasai, who mostly gave us impassive looks or the occasional half smile and wave. The road joins up with the lake shore, and we got our first view of flamingos, hundreds of them at first and more in the distance. Their stilt legs and pink bodies were reflected in the glassy water, and the haze in the air gave a silvery quality to the scene.

The flamingos were a welcome sight. One guide I’d read said that the flamingos come in October; a conflicting report said January was prime viewing. Here we were, January, and we had flamingos. I have read that fluctuating lake level has lead to less predictable flamingo attendance, so I can’t say for sure that January is normally the time to see them. 

This road was incredibly scenic and enjoyable. We wove around rocks, passed by springs bubbling out of the mountainside and trickling into the lake, and we stopped to photograph the birds and perfectly reflected mountains in the distance. There were hardly any people and no other vehicles.

We eventually came into a dusty and rocky settlement towards the south end of the lake. After a few more scenic kilometers Ol Doinyo Lengai continued to dominate the horizon. Jenny was patient, as the views kept getting better and better, and I kept asking her to stop so I could take more photos. If you put pretty much anything in the foreground with that mountain in the back, you can’t take a bad photograph. 

There are several campsites to choose from at Lake Natron, all scattered near the village of Engare Sero on the southwest shore of the lake. We chose Africa Safari Lake Natron, which has chalets and safari tents, but also allows camping. We chose this based on the view and because they had a swimming pool, welcome relief from the heat. The Maasai Giraffe Eco Lodge and World’s View Campsite also looked good. 

Camping here is a bit of an afterthought, but the manager was extremely friendly and helpful. They only had a few other guests, and they made us feel at home. There was a large thatch roof restaurant with views of the lake in the distance and a pool below it with shelters for shade. We were the only campers, and they offered to make us a fire in a communal fire pit, but we declined. The ablutions are shared public ablutions for the pool, but as promised by the staff, nobody else uses them. We spent a luxurious afternoon relaxing, reading and cooling off in the pool. In the distance we saw a dozen or so giraffe grazing near the lake, nice to see wildlife about. Birdlife was excellent here, and white throated bee eaters, fire finches and namaqua doves came to drink from the pool while we were in it.

Everyone that stays at Lake Natron also has to pay a fee per day to stay there. This is not to be confused with the other fee that we had been told about at Klein’s gate, which we were to pay here at Engare Sero. Those are a one time “gate fee” for passage through the area, paid per person and per vehicle. The other fee is a per person, per night fee. You’d think that this would be added to your bill and paid through your accommodation, a “bed fee”, as is common in many places. But this is Lake Natron. That would be too easy. For no reason that we could discern, the fee for camping is $35.40 USD; whereas in a lodge it’s $29.50, both VAT inclusive. Why campers get charged more is a mystery. The lodge charges $15 pppn to camp, meaning it was $50.40 pppn to stay here in total.

We had received a cryptic email from Africa Safari Lake Natron in response to our booking enquiry, detailing fees in the most confusing way and offering to arrange payment for an additional fee, on top of all the other fees. No thank you. We asked our friendly manager how we paid the nightly fee, and he offered to message the local TAWA representative, who would come to the lodge, and we could pay him directly.

In some time he showed up. He was nice, and though we offered cash, he said he’d prefer that we pay by credit card. He would go back to his office, prepare the invoice and come back the next day to take our payment. That seemed fine to us, if a lot of work for him. Another man in a t-shirt told Jenny that we must pay the local government fee as well, but this was a whole new fee we hadn’t heard of, and we just said no. Since he went away, we assumed this was just an opportunistic “fee”. 

The whole thing was off putting, spending so much time paying different people, or in this case failing to pay different people. It isn’t the quantity of money, we had accepted that. It is the drawn out process, the lack of clarity as none of these fees are posted and the multitude of times we had to pay. 

The next day we headed out to drive around the southern end of the lake. There was some lack of clarity on whether there was an activity fee associated with this or not, so we decided to go to the office and try to pay everything, so we could just be done with it. At the office the TAWA officer was there, but said that there was a problem with the system and we couldn’t pay him yet. The local government representative from yesterday was there too. It turns out he wasn’t trying to levy an opportunistic fee but had wanted us to pay the gate fee by another name. We offered to pay this now, to get it out of the way, and he said it was better that we pay when we left the area tomorrow. Lastly we asked about the activity fee to visit the lake shore. They both shrugged, saying they were unsure, that it might be $20 USD, but that they weren’t the people for that. They told us “Just go,” and someone would come if they wanted the fee.

With no fees paid we went to the lake. The roads around the southern end of the lake are dusty tracks that don’t seem driven much. We wandered this lunar landscape, the Mountain of God watching over us, and enjoyed the feeling of exploration. There was more wildlife than I had assumed would be near; we saw zebras and wildebeest grazing near herds of cattle, later a golden jackal and a huge flock of spoonbills.

The track is rocky and slow along the south eastern shore. At the foot of the mountains, there is a large green swath of grass that drops down to the lake, and we saw herders grazing their livestock all along it. This was spring fed grass, and water bubbled out all along this part of the shore.

A motorcycle pulled up to us and waved us down. He said he was the village chairman and that there was a fee to visit this side of the lake. Of course there was. We relented, and he said he would come back and find us to collect. We shrugged it off and kept exploring. The road was very rocky but for the most part matched T4A. We stopped at one of the springs, where there was a flat spot. It turned out it was a hot spring. Here the village chairman’s assistant caught up to us to collect his fee of 10,000 TSH pp.

The road extends further north on the map, but we lost the track, and it was slow going anyway. We headed back, taking a spur that goes to a viewpoint at the southern end of the lake. From a small rise we could see huge flocks of flamingos spread out in the shallows, slowly pacing the waters to feed. 

We enjoyed a nice sundowner beer here before heading back to our campsite. On the way back I saw a motorcycle following close behind us in our dust. Feeling sorry for him, I pulled over to let him pass, and he instead stopped at our window. He was aggrieved, here to insist we pay the activity fee to visit the lake at the southern end. This is not to be confused with the eastern shore fee. 

Exasperated by all of this, we pointed out that there was no need for him to treat us like we were avoiding official fees, we had stopped at the office and tried to pay. Nor was there any signage on required payment posted anywhere. Before handing over the money, the poor guy had to hear my piece. I explained that from our perspective this whole thing was very frustrating, that there were no signs, “entry fee required”, no posted fees at the office or online. He retorted that this was only a problem because we did not have a guide. 

And this is the crux of it. In Northern Tanzania it is expected and assumed you will have a guide all the time. None of the systems are set up for independent travelers like ourselves. We settled amiably, trying to convince him that he’d get more customers if he made it easier to visit the lake. I’m sure this made no difference, but who knows, I hoped it might spur some community discussion talking point some day.

Back to Arusha

We had a quiet night at camp, and now it was time to head back to Arusha, our time in the bush in Tanzania drawing to a close. We headed off fairly early, wanting to get a jump start on things. The lake remained beautiful, I could not get enough of staring at the reflection of the mountains in the water and that dominating cone of Ol Doinyo Lengai. There is nowhere else like this and I really appreciated this wild landscape. 

It was our final sally on the fees of Lake Natron, to pay our nightly fee due to the Tanzania Wildlife Authority (TAWA) and the gate fee to the community. After many failed attempts they conceded the system was down and we’d have to pay cash. The crack down on corruption in Tanzania has made almost all official payments go electronic, to be attached to a control number for tracking. Sometimes the mobile network or electricity has other ideas and they revert to the old system of paper ledgers and cash. Even with this the officer at the gate wanted to get us our official receipt to show we’ve paid. To do this he needed mobile signal, so he hopped on a motorbike and said he’d be back in 20 minutes. 

The absurdity of this whole arrangement I could not wrap my head around. You go to the gate to pay and the receiving officer has to drive twenty minutes round trip on a motorcycle to issue the receipt? Thirty minutes later he came back without success, the network was down. We were sent on our way. 

It is a stunningand dramatic drive south from the lake. A view of the mountain dominates at every bend. The track is rough, dusty and corrugated, with more patches of ultra fine dust. In our mirrors it was nothing but a tan cloud of haze swirling behind us, ahead bumps, ruts and corrugations. But it felt like proper travel through Africa and we bounced and jarred our way south. Out on distant plains we saw herds of zebras, and later young herd boys with goats. 

On our map was an attraction called “The Hole of God.” We were looking out for what this might be and much too late I saw a deep pothole in the road disguised by fine dust. I couldn’t slow down in time and we hit it very hard, throwing contents of the cab around and we heard a loud noise in the back. We stopped to inspect the damage, and in the back empty beer bottles had gone flying and shattered. The undercarriage and suspension seems to still be in one piece though, so after taking a moment to collect ourselves (mostly me, I felt stupid and responsible for missing this), we went on a bit more slowly. Jenny joked that perhaps that was the hole of god?

It got progressively more dusty as we traveled south. An escarpment that is the eastern rampart of the Ngorongoro Crater Area was off to the west, and ahead dusty plains. And wind. Wind whipped up tall dust devils dotting the distance. In one village brown dusty clouds whipped through obscuring our view. It looked a very hard life out here.

Finally the road dropped us back to Mto Wa Mbu, the same village that has Migobani Camp. It was early and we headed to Arusha, speeding along on silky tarmac. Now that we’d been to the Serengeti and Lake Natron it was time to get to Kenya.

We had the required PCR tests scheduled for the next day, so we thought we’d spend another night at the Mesarani Snake Park. We wanted to chat more with Ma, the owner, and see the snakes we had missed last time.

Mesarani was the same, we were the only guests. Ma checked in on us and we agreed to meet her at the bar for a beer after we’d seen the snakes. The snake exhibit is outdoor, were you walk along the glass face of various enclosures. They have quite a number of snakes there, and informational placards on most of them. This was good for us, we don’t have any idea what a harmless snake or a poisons one looks like. I suppose we still don’t, but one handy tidbit was that black mambas are not black, more a brown camouflage. 

There was also one horrific story about a python eating a security guard in South Sudan whole, complete with photos. Perhaps this was shown to the staff to remind the night watchmen to stay awake. 

We sipped beers in the bar as Ma closed up shop for the night. She told us all kinds of stories, of her sons living in the States, family that were world champion motorbike racers and of the astronauts that had stayed at the Snake Park. Most impressively she told her own story, how she and her husband, freed from international restrictions lifted at the end of apartheid, had packed up a lorry and drove up here to make a life. They’d never been to Tanzania before.

We flipped through an old photo album, sepia with age, that showed the barren patch of land that they’d turned into gardens, the campsite, chalets and the Snake Park. Sadly her husband and partner in this work passed away a few years ago and it was just her these days. It was fascinating to hear her tale and just chat with her. We exchanged WhatsApp numbers and have kept in touch.

The next day we went back to the hospital for our PCR tests. Again we found the process to be fairly organized and straightforward. The rest of the day we spent running around Arusha, preparing for our next stretch in the bush in Kenya. Our plan was to cross at the small Tarakea border crossing, near Amboseli. From here we’d visit Amboseli and West and East Tsavo before heading to Nairobi.

We got the tires rotated, balanced and alignment done, stopped by all the shops for food and beer and felt pretty ready to go. Now we just needed to wait for the PCR results. We had heard good things about Twiga Lodge & Campsite, located in Usa River, east of Arusha. This would put is within striking distance of the border.

After a much appreciated lazy meal at George’s Tavern we headed to Twiga. The property at Twiga abuts Arusha National Park and as we drove the final stretch to their gate, we had a nice view of Mount Meru. We arrived and were shown to the campsite, a nice grassy lawn with some trees. There was a large lodge house with a beautiful garden and lawn just through a hedge.

We were again the only campers, but we found the whole place idyllic. The place is owned by expats from the UK, Paul and Erika. They are Land Rover enthusiasts and in addition to the lodge run Shaw’s Safari’s, who rent Land Rover Defenders for self drive safaris Tanzania. Paul is a mechanic as well and has a workshop on site, both for clients and his own fleet of yellow 300 Tdi Defenders.

We got along with Paul and Erika really well. In the late afternoon Paul invited us on a bird walk, where we tried to get “ten in ten.” That is ten species of birds in the first ten minutes. We failed, but only just. Still, with a bag of beers slung over his shoulder we strolled the perimeter as he and a friend rattled off bird species before I could even get my binoculars focused. Towards the end we stopped and Paul passed out drinks from a spot where we could see both the peak of Mount Meru to the west and Mount Kilimanjaro to the east. It was a lovely evening and we watched the snows of Kilimanjaro turn pink in the late light of the day.

On the second night we stayed Felix and Johanna showed up, our friends from Lake Natron. Erika and Paul hosted us to an amazing home cooked dinner, we sat around eating lasagna and fresh salad and swapping travel stories, it was all really relaxing. It was so pleasant in fact that we decided to stay here as long as we could. 

Kenya requires PCR tests no later than 72 hours old, so we stayed the maximum time at Twiga. Longer in fact, as the hospital misdated our tests by a day to our favor. On our last day, and of course just before it rained, we noticed that we were missing a bolt on our leaf spring pack. This is because if you go to the Serengeti you have to break something, but I suppose we got off lightly. Rushing around, with Paul’s help, we managed to install a replacement just as the first rain drops started to fall.

Finally our time was up and we had to break free from the congenial atmosphere here at Twiga. We made the winding drive around the green mountain foothills of Kilimanjaro to the Tarakea border post. Next time…into Kenya. 

The Nitty Gritty

Lake Natron Fees

Frankly the constant barrage of disorganized fees was infuriating. I do highly recommend visiting Lake Natron, it is stunning in its stark beauty and like nowhere else. But in spite of the countless “karibus” (welcomes) that we are given by locals it does not feel karibu at all, more that we are just a resource to be harvested. Come knowing that this will be a hassle and just accept it. 

The best rundown of the fees I could find was on the World’s View Campsite website. The official TAWA website for all the Game Controlled Areas is unfinished, no fees (or anything else) are outlined there. Alternatively if you do decide to visit and prebook accommodation then ask your accommodation for a detailed breakdown of the fees. Even the relatively organized “Africa Safaris Lake Natron” struggled to do this clearly.

Gate Fees are $35 per plus $20 per vehicle. These are one time fees, payable at the Engare Sero toll booth by the road, marked on T4A. This used to be three separate fees, paid at three separate gates as you crossed the WMA. Mercifully at least these have been consolidated. If you read about three separate fees that is old information.  

The WMA fee is payable to TAWA at the same toll booth, but to a different person. 

Africa Safaris Lake Natron

Camping is $15 pppn, but remember there is $35.40 pppn WMA fee as well, that at time of writing is not payable to your accommodation. If you are visiting the Serengeti from the Arusha side it is still cheaper to drive out Klein’s Gate, stay here a night and pay all the fees than it is to drive back out the NCA. The only alternative to visiting the Serengeti and to avoid these fees is to use the western gates, Ikoma or Ndabaka, not practical for all itineraries. All the fees notwithstanding Lake Natron is stunning and worth a visit, please ignore/forgive all my griping about the payments.

The campsite itself is pretty good, but I don’t know how it compares to others in the area. It had middling wifi, but more importantly, a pool. This was welcome in the midday heat. We didn’t eat at the restaurant, which looked bit expensive and was a fixed menu. Beers were expensive and not very cold. They do accept a credit card.

Ablutions were 3.5/5. Pretty clean and functional, though effectively public with the rest of the property, not exclusive for the campsite. Nobody else used them while we were there, but that is probably because there was almost nobody here. Water in the showers was either hot or scalding, as “cold” water line is a black pipe laid on the rocky ground and heats up in the sun.

The view of the mountain is excellent. 

Route

From Klein’s Gate we drove to the lake via a lesser track that is little used. From the roundabout at Sanjo it took us 3h 21m to drive this, stopping for a little route finding and photos along the way.

Lake Natron

The $20 activity fee includes visit the southern end of the lake, hiking to a nearby waterfall and visit some of the earliest (the earliest?) footprints of mankind, all guided. I hear it is highly recommended, we just were too tired to do the whole thing. I wish we had done the footprints. 

For, I believe, $100 USD you can climb Ol Doinyo Lengai. The mountain peak is 2996 m, and I think the climb starts at something like 1300m. It is not technical, but there is some rock scrambling. The volcano is still active, having last erupted in 2008. 

Felix and Johanna did this and they reported back on their experience. Namely that it was beautiful, but incredibly difficult and the guiding was totally lacking. The hike leaves at 2300, so that you arrive at the peak to watch the sunrise at dawn. The said it was a grueling hike, but that they left too early and arrived at the top an hour early. At the top it was freezing cold. The guides do not advise you on clothing to take or anything else, they just show you the way. Paul and Erika said this is typical, though they have a friend who is a trusted guide there. If you want to climb Ol Doinyo Lengai reach out to Paul and Erika at Twiga for their friends contact info. 

General

We have struggled to shake off some negative feelings of tourism in northern Tanzania, it is such a difficult contrast with the stunning wildlife and scenery. Of course the locals should benefit from this tourism. But one can’t help but feeling that everyone here thinks that tourists have an unlimited supply of funds, and that it should be no problem for them to add any fee they want. When we are upset they don’t see why. We pay others money, why not them? This is a very conflicting feeling, it will be interesting to reflect on this in a bit more time.

Here we go, into the Serengeti. Everyone has heard of it and probably seen television documentaries about it. To be able to drive our own vehicle into this unique place is really special and something we were really looking forward to, though we’d done this once before in 2018.

The Serengeti National Park is part of the Serengeti ecosystem. The park itself is humongous, at 14,700 sq km, or 5700 sq mi. The entire ecosystem is over 30,000 sq km, or 12,000 sq mi., which includes numerous smaller reserves and wilderness management areas and the adjacent Masai Mara in Kenya. 

The entire ecosystem is unfenced, home to over a million wildebeest, hundreds of thousands of zebra and countless other plains game, elephants, hippos, birds, reptiles and of course the accompanying predators. The banner attraction at the Serengeti is the wildebeest migration. Really, the migration is always happening, a roughly circular route from the southern short grass plains of the Serengeti, where calving happens in about February, to the classic river crossing migration action in the Masai Mara in September-ish. But a million wildebeest don’t just disappear, so you can visit the Serengeti any time of year and see an incredible density of animals.  

Finally we set out for this star attraction of Tanzania, making an early start from Migobani camp. The road immediately begins to climb the mountains that flank the eastern boundary of the Ngorongoro Conservation Area (NCA), which we must cross before entering the Serengeti. Winding switchbacks on a good road lead us up into lush countryside, working us up towards the the rim of Ngorongoro Crater.

Across the Ngorongoro Conservation Area

Not long into the hills we arrived at Karatu, last town and fuel stop before the parks. After fueling it’s a short drive to the gate of the NCA. At the kiosk was a ranger checking everyone’s entrance papers. All of the safari guides already had permits in hand and just had to get them checked, but we needed to get a permit from scratch. 

About twenty minutes later, and lighter by quite a sum of money, we had our permit for the NCA. I could go on for some time about the permits and fees, but I will spare you, other than to say that these parks are very expensive and the permit process is not particularly fast. The inefficiencies in the park fees and bookings are quite frustrating and at any lesser wildlife destination would detract from the experience. However the Serengeti always delivers on wildlife, or at least has for us, thus they can get away with this ridiculousness. Details of the park permits and fees in the Nitty Gritty section. 

The only other way into the Serengeti from the east is through the Lake Natron area (aka Loliondo Wilderness Management Area), where we planned our exit from the Serengeti. With our original plan of meeting friends for this part of the trip, we had been excited to “guide” our friends to Ngorongoro and see the crater. Since they weren’t able to come, and because we’ve been to the crater before, we decided to save some money and just transit across the NCA. This meant we had to drive all the way through to our Serengeti camp in one day.

To do that we had to transit the notorious Serengeti road, famous for having horrific corrugations, where no combination of speed or tire pressure spares the vehicle or its occupants. Toyota Arusha says that suspension component lifespan is halved on vehicles that drive this road regularly compared to normal off-road use. Last time we drove it the vibration was so bad that the insulation on some of our wiring in the engine bay chafed through and the Land Cruiser actually caught fire (just a little). I was dreading driving this road again, so we schemed up an alternate plan. 

On the map, both T4A and the very good paper GT map, was a spur that went off to the west from the crater rim and then north to the Ndutu area of the Serengeti. It was marked “bad road” and “dry season only”, but we thought we’d give it a shot. 

We stopped at the viewpoint on the crater rim and were greeted to a wonderful view of the crater. After that we took our left turn onto the alternate route. I’d never heard of someone taking this road. Hopefully there wasn’t a good reason for that.

Almost immediately things changed. The road is narrower and smoother. Maasai villages dot the hill side, and Maasai clothed in traditional karosses greet us with a casual wave, but not the cupped hand of begging that we’d seen on the main road. There are scrubby trees here and there, but mostly it is rolling grassland. It’s over 2000m elevation here and in the morning’s cool climes I can almost imagine that I am in the Scottish moors. 

So far this new route was fantastic; we were loving the scenery and the smooth road. In the villages we saw none of the signs advertising mobile phone service or Coke-a-Cola as you do everywhere else in Tanzania. Just cows, goats, round huts with grass roofs, and Maasai in traditional dress. Always they had a herding stick, a dagger and some even with bows and arrows. 

Just before the village of Endulen is where things got interesting. It was here that we had to turn off this “main” road and onto a small track leading to Ndutu. This was the road marked “bad road”, “4×4 only”, “dry season only.” We bumped along a mostly good road, seeing goats and cows and always not far away someone tending the herd. In some of the thicker bush we spotted giraffe and zebra and thought how fantastic to see this coexistence of wildlife and animal husbandry, the hallmark of the Maasai. And this was real life, not some cultural ‘living museum’.

In a couple of places the road did not match the map, but we zigged and zagged around deeply rutted mud and found our way to good track that was headed more or less the right direction. This took a little faith, blindly forging ahead into the white space on the GPS, but after a bit we rejoined the line and the GPS quit griping at us. (Note: T4A bested OSM and maps.me in this area by quite a margin).

We saw more zebra grazing on hillsides of bright green grass and cattle not far away, cow bells clanking. Sometimes children, always on herd duty, would run over to us, and a few held out their hands to ask for something, but most just gave us a smile and a wave.

We reassuringly saw one safari vehicle coming from the other direction, making us more confident that the road did in fact go through. The road kept dropping down in elevation, and the land became more parched. We noticed fewer cattle and more goats, presumably hardier stock in this dryer area. The huts we were seeing also looked a little shabbier and less permanent. We guessed that these were temporary shelters built for the herders, where what we were seeing before were permanent villages and family compounds. 

Somewhere along we lost the road, or at least the road on the map. The track ahead was clear, but was is going where we wanted to go? This is where the paper map saved us. A little blue line and few dots indicated there was another riverbed west of here, and we noted that most of the roads seem to parallel the riverbeds. We decided to continue west, the wrong direction, until we crossed that river. If then the road didn’t turn north towards Ndutu, we’d have to turn back.

We were saved though. The tracked crept around to the north, and in not too long we found ourselves in the maze of game viewing tracks around the Lake Ndutu area. Our gamble had paid off, we had skipped at least part of the dreaded Serengeti road and seen some proper Maasai land while we were at it. This made the sting of the NCA fees much easier to bare. The morning’s exploration and scenery had been really spectacular.

Into the Serengeti

Here we found the pleasant surprise of the Ndutu gate to the Serengeti, not marked on any map we had. This meant we could check in to the Serengeti here and not at the busy Naabi Hill Gate. Now we could also get our long awaited special Campsite assignments that we had not really been able to secure previously.

The ranger manning the gate was extremely helpful. Requesting special campsites at the gate is unusual, but with a short explanation, he embraced our situation. He called his supervisor at Naabi Hill, and after some discussion we were assigned Mbweha (Ndutu Area), Sero 11, Kogatende 6 and Lobo No. 1. This would have us moving every night, something we generally avoid doing, but we were keen to see all these various parts of the park, so we accepted. Also even with the low tourist numbers in the park, choice for special campsites was fairly limited. Finishing at Lobo would give us easy access to Klein’s gate in the northeast, allowing us to head to Lake Natron when we exited. 

There was some rumor that the migration was already in the Ndutu area, and so the Mbweha special campsite would be ideally located for that. On our maps it did not look like there was much for game viewing tracks on the Serengeti side of the lake, but we found quite a few more tracks than indicated.

Mbweha campsite was only vaguely indicated on our paper map and not at all on the GPS.

We had been assured there was a sign, but to our chagrin the sign misdirected us to a different and fully-populated tented camp. In all our searching around for our campsite, we saw hardly any wildlife. A few of the largest antelope, eland, running away, and a couple wildebeest.

For the first night the ranger had also given us a choice of Sero 11 and 4 in the central part of the park. Since we knew roughly where this was, and because there didn’t seem to be much wildlife at Ndutu, we decided to head for them. We’d stay at Sero 11 for two nights and not have to move around so much. On our way we transited the short grass plains southwest of Naabi Hill and really began to feel like we were in the Serengeti. 

Wide open plains with nary a shrub or tree about, just short grass and unimpeded views. And on those plains, animals. Hundreds, maybe thousands, of antelope. There were dispersed herds of Thomson’s and Grant’s gazelles, the first we’d seen of the trip. Also warthogs, the occasional impala and some wildebeest. Secretary birds and bustards paced the grasslands while kites soared overhead hunting for prey. This was the Serengeti, an incredible landscape capable of supporting millions of animals. What a pleasure to be back.

Eventually the road funneled us to the Naabi Hill Gate. We checked in with the rangers and got our plan to go to Sero 11 today approved, as well as checking out of the NCA. He indicated that Sero 11 was near Sero 4 and there was a sign. This was a relief, as last time around we’d wasted a lot of time searching for Sero 4, the sign hidden in tall grass. 

We hoped to continue our cleverness avoiding the main road and its corrugations by taking the road to Gol Kopjes and then game viewing tracks north to the Seronera area. Sadly this was not to be. We’d been told the road was open, but upon probing various grassy overgrown tracks, we could not find it. With time running short, we decided to bite the bullet on at least part of the main road. Jenny was at the helm as I didn’t have the stomach for this.

Fortunately we found the initial stretch to be at least tolerable, if in a fairly unpleasant way. Perhaps I had built it up in my head so much that the expectation exceeded the reality. Or maybe the road was in a little better shape, as they do grade it from time to time. Or maybe our new suspension was doing its work better than the stock suspension. 

Technical tagent on suspension: A while back we had bit the bullet and upgraded to aftermarket suspension, better equipped to handle a fully loaded vehicle. This was against our previous doctrine of sticking with everything stock, so that it could be repaired with the standard Toyota parts widely available throughout Africa. The problem is the stock suspension is not designed to handle a fully loaded (perhaps overloaded?) vehicle 100% of the time, for thousands of kilometers. We would hit the bump stops, we found the steering to feel light on the front end, and the Cruiser sagged at the back. The only options had been to go on a dramatic weight saving spree, trimming down to the bare minimum, or to upgrade. We went with the upgrade, to Old Man Emu suspension. 

The vehicle definitely handles better, particularly at speed. We think this is safer, as when heavily loaded on stock suspension I think the Cruiser was in danger of a roll over if you swerved to avoid something while moving fast, fast being a relative term with the 1HZ engine. Corrugations also feel better now. The modest lift, under 2”, raise the vitals a bit further from rocky hazards, which came in useful on places like Van Zy’s Pass and the 05 road. Also there was the kitchen. Jenny is somewhat vertically challenged she did not appreciate the unforeseen consequence of raising the kitchen and fridge those 2”, making it harder to reach inside.

The big question of course is what will we do if we have a failure? In spite of what OME will say OME parts are not easily available in East Africa,. Ironman parts are carried by Toyota in Tanzania, and are roughly equivalent. If we have a shock failure I think we’ll try to procure some Ironman parts, which will likely have to be couriered from Dar es Salaam. Alternatively stock Toyota shocks can be fitted, but because of the lift they will not last. But they’ll get us by in a pinch. Though not ideal, leaf springs can sometimes be welded depending on where they are in the pack. Or even an individual leaf can be jettisoned entirely, on both sides to match, if needed. Springs can be welded for a temporary repair while new springs are shipped, though I loath to thing how much it will cost. All imperfect solutions to say the least.

Whatever the reason that the road was not so bad, we didn’t have to suffer it too long. We found a game viewing track diving off to the east and we took it. This made for a pleasant game drive on the way up to Seronera. We saw a wonderful herd of elephant in perfect afternoon light, and a few larger herds of wildebeest, we assumed harbingers of the greater migration. Also we saw other animals of the plains, the gazelles, impalas and even cheetah, what a great welcome. Near the airstrip we saw a serval dive into the grass.

In echos of our last visit, we were unable to find Sero 11. We’d been assured there was a sign just after Sero 4, but we couldn’t find it. This was a little annoying, but not altogether unexpected. We knew Sero 4 was not booked for this night, so we just made for that instead. 

Finally we rolled into Sero 4 special campsite. As we had been to this site before it felt comfortable, a small homecoming. After the very long day on the road and we were happy to be in this wilderness camp. Unfenced and undeveloped, it was just a piece of Africa and an acacia tree. All the figuring out of campsites and the suspense of searching for roads that might not exist had been a bit exhausting. But because it had worked out it also brought a nice sense of accomplishment for both of us. The novel sights of Maasai land and the lesser known vistas of the NCA, followed by the wonderful wildlife on the southern Serengeti plains made the many hours in the car fade away.

In the approaching dusk we made a fire near a flat top acacia tree. Gazing out onto long yellow grass and rolling hills we heard the familiar whoop of hyenas. Scanning with our big flashlight we saw a hyena circling camp. No doubt they are familiar that humans mean potential food, but he stayed clear. At least as far as we know, perhaps after we went to bed he quietly came in for a camp inspection. We always pack absolutely everything away when we’re camping in parks, as hyenas are known to carry off the most unexpected souvenirs.

A friend’s family lost their grandmothers heirloom potjie. A potjie is a South African sort of three legged cauldron for cooking over the fire. They are cast iron and heavy, yet the hyenas made off with it and it was never seen again. I have also heard stories of camp chairs being taken.

We heard hyenas throughout the night, and distant lions. The early morning brought a chorus of weavers, who’s nests adorned the nearby acacia tree. We planned to make the most of our time in the Serengeti and were up at dawn for a big day of game viewing.

This meant we were back in our game viewing routine. Alarm set for 30 minutes before we’re allowed to leave camp. In most parks that is 0600. After the alarm goes off I get up and start the stove to boil water. Jenny follows a few minutes later, she embraces the early morning drives in theory, but in practice she is not a morning person and takes a minute to gain momentum. We brush our teeth as the kettle boils and then make coffee and tea. 

I pack away the tent, which only takes literally about a minute. The hard clamshell type tent sets up and packs with very little effort, and with all our bedding inside. This single feature is critical for us, to make these repeated early mornings and late arrivals to camp much more feasible. Jenny puts away the stove and gets some fruit or something from the back to put in the cab for a breakfast snack. The routine takes about 30 minutes and then we’re off. I always drive the first hitch. I love these early morning hours, the cool air, the pink glow of dawn, and the anticipation of what we might see, or not see, that day.

In the cool mornings we start with windows down and fresh air. We always hold out as long as possible to roll up the windows and turn on the a/c. It feels a bit insulated from the environment when we finally cave, but then sometimes we see others in open vehicles suffering the bite of tsetse flies or dust inundation, and then we feel pretty good about our a/c program. On our last visit to the Serengeti our a/c was broken, so it was open window safari all the time, which other than one or two tsetse fly invasions was not bad at all. Except the dust on the inside of the car was so thick I could feel it in my teeth. 

We had spotted a couple hyenas and their pups dive into their den yesterday evening, we thought we’d start by revisiting the site and see if they were about. They were, and we had a wonderful 20 or 30 minutes watching four hyena pups cavorting around in the dawn light. 

Previously we’d had excellent sightings in the kopjes southeast of Seronera, so we decided to make a tour of all those photogenic rocky outcroppings to see if we’d luck out again. We usually mark predator sightings on our GPS, and we could still see the sightings from our last visit, “23 lions” at one waypoint. Would they be there again? 

We were also on the lookout for the migration. It’s hard to believe, but it was not clear where those million plus wildebeest were. We asked several guides and rangers and received different noncommittal or unconvincing answers from each. “They’re at Ndutu.” We knew that wasn’t true, we’d been there. “They’re near Seronera.” Also suspect, as we’d camped in the area and driven around a bit the day before. We’d seen some herds, but certainly not the bulk of wildebeest. We kept looking.

Our tour of the kopjes was very pleasant. The roads were mostly in good condition and the two spoor tracks lead invitingly into the plains, with the rocky outcroppings lit up in the morning light and green grass swaying in the breeze. The herd of elephants we saw the day before hadn’t moved much, happily munching on grass near a small river channel. We saw more wildebeest, zebras, gazelles of both varieties but mostly Thomson’s. We also found two cheetah pacing determinedly through the tall grass. Taking a long loop around we tried to see if we could get ahead of them, but they disappeared. 

No lions though. We’d seen dozens of lions in this area previously, posing picturesquely on outcroppings of granite boulders, but this time all was quiet. A couple other tourist vehicles were also scouting the kopjes and coming up with nothing, at least it wasn’t just us. 

The morning wore on and we resolved to head back to central Seronera. Our plan was to stop at the visitor center, a modest affair, to ask where Sero 11 Special Campsite was, where we’d stay this night.

When we pulled up we noticed there was a huge cage to received plastic bottles. This was a welcome sight, as the Serengeti has a “pack in – pack out” garbage policy, but since the tour operators provide their guests with an endless supply of bottled water in small bottles it must have become a problem. It is also a problem for us. We were very carefully separating all our trash. We keep burnables separate, to burn in the fire at night, but only if it will completely combust. No egg shells or aluminum cans, for example. We’d also spent time before coming into the park getting rid of as much trash as possible. This meant pre chopping up mangos and pineapples, discarding any packaging, that sort of thing. 

The person manning the visitor center help desk wasn’t entirely confident of Sero 11’s location and checked with someone else. After a short conversation they had in Swahili they came back to me with confident instructions. It was north of Seronera, past Sero 6 (a northerly campsite not in the Seronera area), towards the Ikoma gate. There was a sign. We were glad we asked, we would have never found it, so many kilometers from the other Sero campsites. As it happened they were also totally wrong, but I’m getting ahead of myself. 

That task done, or so we thought, we stopped by one of the public campsites. This is a strategy of ours, to cheat a little bit with our wilderness camping. In the heat of the midday we stop at one of the public campsites to do the dishes from last night and take showers. This saves us some of our precious water, allows us to use a proper toilet and not have to do dishes in the dark. We stopped at the closest public campsite, Dik Dik, which was totally empty.

The ablutions were simple but clean, with cold showers. Dishes and bodies cleaned, we set forth again. This afternoon we decided to focus on the area southwest of Seronera, as tomorrow we’d head to the north of the park. We ambled along the Seronera river for a bit, the bank flanked by yellow fever trees, and saw hippos and a large monitor lizard as well as many birds.

After departing from the river we got a tip from one of the guides on some lions in trees. His directions were perfect, and in a sausage tree we found two female lionesses dozing contentedly, legs and tails dangling. They didn’t look like they were going to move any time soon, so we left them in peace. 

As we got close to the picnic area southwest of Seronera it seemed we’d found the herds. The grass was very green here and the wildebeest had homed in on the fresh green shoots. Thousands of wildebeest were dispersed all around the hill that forms the picnic area. We parked, along with many other tourist vehicles, and had a nice late lunch viewing the herds grazing below us. Visibility was excellent and with binoculars we could see herds kilometers away. 

In the heat of midday they were fairly sedate, we could hear the characteristic honk and grunt of wildebeest as they slowly grazed or rested in the shade of the few trees around. 

We decided on a loop south through the thickest part of the herd, giving ourselves until three o’clock before it was time to head north to our camp. Not far along we found four lions resting in the shade of a scrubby little tree, but they must have fed recently, with all these wildebeest around they were not interested in all, sleeping off their last meal I suppose. 

Thick herds of wildebeest and zebra grazed on the plains and we were lucky that our road wound through them. They could have easily been a few kilometers west of here where there were no roads. They viewed the car with ambivalence, hauling themselves out of the middle of the road when needed, but otherwise grazing and milling around. Over the next weeks they’d work their way down to the Lake Ndutu area for calving season. Zebras calf earlier than wildebeest and we saw many zebra foals a month or two old, lanky with knobby knees, sticking close to their mothers.

By three o’clock it was time to head north and find our site. We still had a few hours and could game view on the way. We saw the sign for Sero 6 and took an exploratory loop to inspect it, just to see how good a site it is. Not bad, set near the bank of a river with fever trees and palms to the south and plains to the north, though there are enough trees that there is not a vista per se. There were some tsetse flies here, and the camp looked like it had not been used in quite a while.

We moved onward, seeing the signs for Sero 7, Sero 9, and some other special campsites. This seemed promising. We knew that Sero 8 and 10 were, counterintuitively, back towards the central part of Seronera, as we’d seen the sign yesterday. So presumably 11 was coming up here soon. 

On our way we found a lioness and three active cubs. They were resting in distant grass, but after about 15 minutes the cubs obligingly came right near the roadside and wrestled and stalked each other. One was very young and the whole thing was adorable. Time ticked later and we had to tear ourselves away to look for camp.

More game viewing, we saw another solitary lioness in a field, with some grazers keeping respectful distance from her as she slept. Also we saw two blacked back jackals. We think these are very charismatic and they’re less common up here than they are in Southern Africa, so that was a nice treat. 

The lack of any sign of our campsite was getting concerning and we were both getting stressed out. Jenny has a cooler head for this sort of thing, where I get totally annoyed and worried that we’ll be out past the seven PM curfew. It seems a desperate search for a campsite is part of the the Serengeti experience for us, but not one I appreciate. 

It became more and more clear that the campsite wasn’t up here, or wasn’t sign posted. We were fairly close to Ikoma gate by now, so we headed there to ask if a ranger could show us the camp. The hour was late now,it was clear that we’d be arriving late to camp unless it was very close to here. Unlikely.

The rangers at the gate were really friendly, but the first couple I talked to were not familiar with Sero 11. They went over to a couple others who seemed to be the bosses, and they also did not know where Sero 11 was. They advised me to go to the visitor center and ask, and I responded that we’d done that and been clearly told it was past Sero 6, on the road towards Ikoma gate. This sent them into a hubbub of Swahili with smatterings of English. I could tell the gist of things, that one guy saying we should just go to a public campsite, but I was thankful to another who advocated that if we’d paid for a special campsite we should get it. 

Finally they called someone back in Seronera who said we needed to come all the way back to Seronera and he’d send someone to escort us to the proper site. This was exasperating, but also inevitable. It also meant we’d be driving past the seven o’clock curfew. I discussed this point with the rangers and they assured us that it was no problem, that they’d even send an escort vehicle if we were not comfortable. We were fine, I just didn’t want to get in trouble for being out after hours. We received more assurances that this was no issue. 

Off we went, back to Seronera. The park was beautiful in the dusky light, but the GPS said we wouldn’t get to Seronera until almost eight o’clock. And then who knew how long it would take to meet our escort and get to our campsite? We met a few other vehicles on the road after hours, work vehicles going one way or another, and none gave us a second glance. 

Upon arriving at Seronera we called the phone number we’d been given. There is middling mobile coverage in the Seronera area. Note this is yet another circumstance where having a SIM for your phone is much more efficient than arranging some rendezvous, even though using a cell phone in the Serengeti just seems wrong.

In not too long a vehicle arrived to lead us to our camp. Now we were extremely curious to see if we’d somehow missed an obvious sign, or misread the map or who knows what. They lead us in the vicinity of the other Sero special campsites, then down a road towards Turner Springs, and finally to a turnoff that was labeled “Sero Extra Special Campsite No. 1” Not eleven. We bumped down this track for a bit and there was another sign, “Sero Extra Special Campsite”, no number.

Tucked in among some flat top acacias, we couldn’t see much else in the dark, but it seemed nice. And the whole exercise hadn’t taken as long as I thought. It was no where near where we’d been directed previously, so we felt somewhat vindicated that at least we hadn’t made some obvious blunder. Our biggest mistake being that we didn’t confirm our camp location midday as originally planned. The instructions had seemed so clear! So confident! 

We had a simple dinner of cheese and crackers and made fire while we unwound from the day. A silver lining was that if we had not been misdirected towards Ikoma gate we wouldn’t have seen those adorable lions cubs playing right next to the road.

Hyenas whooped and called all night long and we slept well. When we woke in the morning we saw a hyena parade heading up the track near camp. Four or five hyenas walking down the road, spaced about 50m apart, headed off on their morning’s business.

Today we were theoretically headed to Kogatende, quite a distance north, so we needed to get going. We made a quick check on our hyena pups and decided we should probably top up on fuel before heading north. There is a modest fuel station in Seronera, dispensing fuel of suspect quality. We had planned to avoid it, but since we’d been doing a lot of game driving and extra driving out to Ikoma gate and back, it seemed wise to top up before going to the north of the park and eventually Lake Natron. We still had some 500km to go until the next reliable fuel, and even with the fuel in the jerry cans it was going to be tight. 

Unfortunately they were out of fuel at Seronera and at the research station pump. Lesson learned, do not put these things off to the last minute. “Maybe tomorrow” we were told. We had enough fuel to make it, the question was how much was left over for game drives. With some back of the envelope calculations, not much. There was nothing to be done but to get on with it.

Normally when we’re on dirt we drive in 4×4, which costs us a little extra fuel. I switched to two wheel drive and unlocked the hubs. Every little bit might count. Our normal plan of 4×4 on dirt might seem excessive. Many of the roads being in plenty good enough shape to manage in two wheel drive just fine. But there are a few important reasons for staying in 4×4. A big one is it gives you more control on the loose gravel should you need to swerve around an unexpected animal, not unlikely in a wildlife park. Second, is it is easier on the roads and we’re told reduces how fast the roads become corrugated. I suspect we are one of the few that drive in 4×4, so I’m not sure how much our small effort helps, but I don’t like the corrugations on the main roads so we do our part. Last, is that being in 4×4 keeps the road in better shape for those behind you in soft spots, the deep sand and mud. We often see holes dug by wheel spin, where if they’d been in 4×4 there would not be damage to the track.

Heading out of Seronera we immediately saw a large pride of lions. They headed off into the bushes and we moved on. Further along, two more lions by the road. There are a lot of lions here. The road is in good shape and we saw less and less vehicles as we moved north. This is because the migration, thus most of the safari effort, is south from here. But we kept seeing a lot of animals. We kept asking ourselves if the migration actually was in the south, as it was supposed to be.

The landscape in this part of the park is much more rolling hills dotted with many more trees than further south. The grass was very green and animal density seemed pretty good. We kept going by medium sized herds of zebras, wildebeest and some buffalo. This also came with the occasional group of impala, giraffe and ever present warthogs. Gazelles were also present, though not in high numbers, they seem to favor the open savannah.

Through the day as we continued north this animal density ebbed and flowed but did not disappear. In the Tabora plains we saw large herds, and were treated to three cheetahs. And another pride of 10 more lions, bringing our count for just today to an astounding 33 lions. It was quite a day for game viewing considering we were “just transiting”. 

We finally arrived at Lobo and found it very scenic. The grass was as green and healthy as a golf course and animals abounded. We saw the prints of a huge lion in the track leading toward Lobo Hill, and lots and lots of zebras and wildebeest. Many of the zebras had calfs, and some of the wildebeest. We speculated that perhaps the animals that had calfs did not move south as fast as the rest of the herd. I do not know if this fracturing of the herd is normal, or a response to the seasonal variations of the rains.

Also we realized we had bit off more than we could chew. Kogatende was still a good ways from here and we had signed ourselves up for way too much back and forth driving. We checked in with the rangers at Lobo and they gave us their blessing to spend two nights here and forego our original booking. It seemed there were no bookings at the Lobo camps now, so there was no double booking concern. He also introduced us to his two little girls who were visiting him while on school holidays. I’m sure the rangers spend a lot of time away from their families, how fantastic for his daughters to spend some time with their father in this unique wilderness.

This allowed us time to make a few leisurely circuits in the Lobo area. Also, we stopped by the Lobo public campsite to take showers and do our dishes. The ablutions looked pretty new, and other than the common affliction of broken toilet seats, were very tidy, clean and functional. 

We settled into Lobo No. 2 for the night, it having a better view than No. 1. The public campsite, a lodge and the ranger post are sited on the Lobo hills, a ridge of large kopjes joined together on a north-south axis. We had a westward view of these attractive hills from our camp and could view large herds of mostly wildebeest and some zebras grazing across it’s verdant green slopes. 

Towards the end of the day we were inundated with flies. They didn’t seem to be biting, but there were hordes of them and it was not pleasant. Fortunately at sunset they abated, and we enjoyed a nice evening around the fire. Some elephants had obligingly knocked over some trees in the vicinity at some point in the past, so I’d been able to collect a couple pieces of firewood to augment our dwindling supply. 

That night the wind picked up and buffeted the tent most of the night. A benefit of the roof top tent is it is up high, catching the cooling breeze for those hot African nights. A fault of the roof top tent is it is up high, catching the full brunt of the wind if it is strong. The clamshell tent does well if parked into the wind, but on this particular night we were the wrong way around and we listened to the canvas of the tent shudder in the wind all night.

Still it was much better than our old tent, which had many windows and openings, with two zippers for each flap and screen. When the wind blew each of the zippers jingled about, the totality of which made it feel like you were sleeping inside a tambourine. 

The next day was spent game driving in the Lobo area. About a kilometer from camp we saw a kill that must have happened in the night, as the carcass was not there yesterday. Vultures ringed the body that was being defended and gnawed on by a hyena. The flesh was already quite consumed, it made us think that the process from kill to bare bones might be much faster than we previously imagined. 

The significant herds of wildebeest and zebras persisted, and were complimented now by herds of hundreds of buffalo. The sheer amount of biomass is hugely impressive. We also saw very large groups of eland, the largest antelope. Our experience in southern Africa is that eland are more elusive and not seen in more than a few, but here we were seeing dozens together. 

We attempted the Grumeti River game drive circuit but found that part way through the track faded into the bush and we could not find it. The part of the circuit we were able to complete was excellent, and we saw seven more lions dozing in the shade on the riverbank. Further north beyond the Grumeti was much drier and game numbers were few. The stark change from green hills full of life to parched yellow grass was surprising, the rains must have been very localized. 

Somewhere along the Grumeti we found a river crossing and a nice shade tree along the bank. Park rules allow getting out of your car more than 200m from animals, and we took advantage of this autonomy to have a leisurely lunch and lounge about.

Our second night at Lobo No. 2 was very nice. We had wised up and parked into the wind, and the flies were less abundant today. Herds of zebra and wildebeest grazed fairly near camp, but detecting our presence gave us a wide berth. Tomorrow we’d head out of the park for Lake Natron.

One of our lasting impressions of the Serengeti is just how enormous it is. Particularly when we we drove up to the Lobo area, it is just miles and miles of wilderness. We saw a few other vehicles in hours and hours of driving, and a couple camps dot the map but are inconspicuously hidden away in the trees. Once we absorbed a bit of the enormousness it made me appreciate a bit the park fees. No tax dollars are going to sustain these wilderness areas like national parks get back home. They must be self sufficient on ticket sales and grant money. That these developing nations have set aside these enormous tracks of land is remarkable.

Nitty Gritty

Arusha Notes

The western side of Arusha is very busy and takes a while to slog through traffic. There is a new bypass road, from the T2 to the T5. If you are heading into or out of town it’s faster to take this bypass route via the T2, and much more pleasant driving.

Restaurants and Shopping: 

We didn’t manage to eat there but we heard the Blue Heron is really nice. They have moved locations to the western side of town. We highly recommend George’s Tavern, which we really like a lot. Greek food with pizza and a few other odds and ends, a nice outdoor garden setting and very cold beer. Complete with cantankerous but charming Greek owner.

We tried Shopper’s, which we found not nearly as nice as the one in Dar es Salaam. It certainly can do the job, but is also busy and fairly expensive. In light of covid we avoided the very busy vegetable market across from the Shopper’s, but certainly it has all the fresh food you’d need in one place and I’m sure is cheap. 

We found the Glenfarm market near the Puma stationand Food Lovers west of town (near where the bypass ties into the T5) to be a good shopping combination. They are right next to each other. The Food Lover’s is not to the standard of one in South Africa, but is still pretty good.

The popular butcher, Meat King, has moved to 881 Nelson Mandela Rd (aka Old Moshi Road).

Rotterdam Market near Usa River is small but very well stocked.

Park Fees

Serengeti Park Fees are here: https://www.tanzaniaparks.go.tz/uploads/publications/en-1615966435-NEWTARIFF.pdf

NCA Fees are here: https://www.ncaa.go.tz/pages/education-fees

Fees are broken down into per person entry, per person camping and a vehicle fee. We were undercharged for our vehicle fee in the Serengeti, but this was just luck. I gather it is more and more common for them to ask to see your registration to get the official tare weight. This happened to us for the NCA and we were charged the full $150/day for the vehicle. 

For the NCA note there is also a crater entrance fee if you go into the crater. On top of all of this there is an astounding 18% VAT, implemented in 2016. The sum of this is it is quite expensive to visit these parks. For us this totaled to over $300/day to be in the park, and it could have easily been more if we had been charged the full vehicle fee.

At one level this seems outrageous. You can visit parks with similar wildlife in Zambia, Botswana and Namibia all for less money. On the other hand I suspect many families spend similar amounts of money, or more, on far less interesting vacations to Hawaii, go skiing or wherever. The Serengeti and Ngorongoro are truly unique, I think this expense, at least once, is worth it. 

Campsites:

Simba A remains the only public campsite in the NCA. It also remains unappetizing. It is a large lawn with a beautiful tree and a bit of a view of the crater, if it’s clear, which it often is not. Many many mobile safari operators use this campsite and it can be really busy, and the ablutions are not up to the task. If you camp here get in early for your shower and accept that this isn’t going to be the most atmospheric place you stay.

Booking Serengeti Special Campsites – This remains a tough nut to crack. There are no booking agents like those in Botswana, that specialize in navigating the convoluted system of campsite bookings in East Africa. Erika at Twiga Lodge/Shaw Safaris said that the system as designed does not allow her to make bookings for people not using their vehicles, though she is continuing to press for this.

However you can make bookings yourself on the TANAPA portal, but the process is immensely confusing. Private Visitors (that’s us) can register here: https://reservations.tanzaniaparks.go.tz:8090/SelfReg.aspx

The login is here: https://reservations.tanzaniaparks.go.tz:8090/Login.aspx

For reasons that are unclear, not many special campsites are listed in the online system, even though there are dozens more mapped. The only ones available to reserve online are:

Kirawira 2

Kirawira Hills 1

Koga 6

Kusini 2

Lobo 1

Lobo 2

Sero 11

Sero 4

Sorobeya

Woga 7

Woga 9

I asked the park staff at TANAPA headquarters in Arusha about this and they responded that some special campsites are not in use, and others that are booked long term, for more than six weeks, do not show up in the system. That doesn’t quite sound right to me, because how does one book a camp that is currentlybooked for more than six weeks after it is available?

If you manage to make a booking using the online system, a substantial feat I assure you, then you’ll have to figure out how to pay. At this time credit cards are not accepted for payment online. The booking will have a control number, and you can pay this via Mpesa, or at a bank. Show the bank the control number/s, make the payments and they will confirm payment to TANAPA. Payment status would be reflected in the online portal.  

The problem with this is it means you can really only make bookings while you’re in Tanzania, not prior to arrival. I’m not sure this is much better than just doing it at the gate. Also when paying at the bank you have to pay cash. We were told some banks accept credit cards for control number payments, but we tried several and they all said they did not offer that service. It is also difficult to withdraw that amount of cash, depending on your length of stay in the park.

All this means I’m not sure I can add much clarity to the special campsite booking conundrum, but perhaps this will be helpful to someone. 

Serengeti Special Campsites:

Mbweha – signage not correct. There is a sign indicating a turn left towards the lake, and then further on there is a sign indicating Mbweha is further west. The second sign is correct, probably. We didn’t actually go all the way to the site. 

Sero No 4 is correctly mapped on T4A. A nice campsite in open plains east of central Seronera. The only negative is there is occasional noise from the Seronera workshop that is not far away as the crow flies, and we could see some lights of a distant lodge or camp. Still it was a very nice wilderness camping experience. 

Sero 11 is marked on T4A as “Extra Special Campsite”.  This site is set in trees and has no views. It’s also adjacent to a road that is used by the safari operators, though there was only one or two vehicles. 

The Lobo Hill Special Campsite did not appear to be in use, but we could just find it. Lobo 3 SCS was signposted, but the track faded into the bush. I would recommend Lobo No. 2 given a choice in that area. 

The Seronera visitor center has a help desk that has been not that helpful for us in the past. Willing, yes. But not knowledgeable about the campsites. If we go again we’ll ask a ranger to escort us to the correct location midday, so we’re not wasting prime game viewing hours searching for our campsite. 

The visitor center has clean toilets, a small cafe, and happily also plastic recycling. In the staff village there is a very modestly stocked shop. If you go here keep in mind this shop isn’t really for tourists, so no complaining if it doesn’t have what you want. We were able to buy beer in the staff village in 2018. This time around we were properly stocked up and no resupply was required. 

Route into the Serengeti:

Migobani to Ngorongoro Crater Veiwpoint: 48km, 2h 1m, including a fuel stop.

Crater viewpoint to Alternate Route turnoff, 16km, 29m

Migobani to Ndutu Gate, via alternate route (see map): 140km, 6h 33m, including some stopping. Note the blue line is our actual track, the red line our planned track. I don’t know if we missed the turn or if that track no longer exists.

December 23rd, 2021 – January 5th, 2022

We had a wonderful, if non traditional, Christmas dinner at Capricorn of curry and chapatis. There also was a flurry of logistics and planning to sort out while at Peponi. Our friends that planned to join us in Arusha had suffered a family emergency and understandably couldn’t come to meet us.  The vehicle they’d reserved was well past the refund window, so we undertook a last minute search to see if a friend was willing to take their spot.

This all consisted of frequent WhatsApp texting and calls while at the warm, humid beaches of Peponi. This is how long term travel gets organized, under swaying palms and spotty mobile signal. 

Miraculously some friends did have time and wanted to join us for a last minute trip to the Serengeti, hooray!  Then the specter of covid struck, and they both tested positive for their pre-flight tests, boo. Thankfully they were asymptomatic, but this squashed the last of our post holiday plans to meet up with someone. Staying flexible is a key part of travel, especially on a long trip. 

Peponi was fairly busy for the holiday and it was nice to meet some other travelers instead of being the only ones in camp. We met Lilli Mixich, an impressive German woman, getting on in years and intrepidly traveling alone around Africa in her old Toyota. She drove across the Sahara in the 80s and has had all kinds of adventures. We met another solo female traveler, a Polish writer who had been traveling in Tanzania on public transport for several months, and has now bought a motorcycle to continue her trip. Motorcycling here, she is much braver than I am.

To Arusha

Leaving Peoponi on Boxing Day, we made the drive to Arusha while mulling over our plans. There had been rain, and just north of Peponi we encountered slick mud even on the well maintained roads. After slipping and sliding a bit, we arrived at tarmac and sped on towards Arusha amongst the sisal plantations and the dramatic Usambra mountains to the northeast.

Arusha is a small city, busy with frenetic energy supporting the safari industry. Bajajs and pikipis zip in and out of traffic while the ubiquitous large modified safari Land Cruisers lumber about, hauling tourists to and fro. Heavy clouds obscured the conical peak of Mount Meru, which looms over the city. Kilimanjaro was also shrouded by clouds somewhere off in the northeast.

We’ve been to Arusha before, in 2018, and it is not a city that I particularly enjoy. It has all the things we might need, workshops and supermarkets and whatever else, but it’s all tied up in busyness and single minded focus on organized safari tours. As a mzungu you cannot set foot outside your vehicle, on the street without being accosted a moment later and pressured to buy this or get help with that. No one is unfriendly, but the insistent offering of services I find suffocating. 

When I explain that we don’t need anything, which usually takes repeating multiple times as they probe for a chink in my armor, there is occasionally a mystified acceptance that perhaps this mzungu doesn’t need anything. A tourist that doesn’t need something is a rare thing, and they don’t quite know where to place us in the order of things.

All this in mind, our plan was to be in and out of Arusha as quickly as practical. We’d sort out our plans, get some provisions and be off. We elected to stay at the Mesarani Snake Park, a campsite 20 km or so west of Arusha.

The Snake Park is an unusual campsite. It’s campsite, a small snake and reptile zoo and has a clinic specializing in snake bites. When we arrived, it was incredibly busy, lots of Arusha locals taking their kids out to see the snakes, turtles and crocodiles for the holiday. 

The campsite was empty. In the pre-covid days this was a regular stop on the overland truck route. Overland trucks being big heavy duty trucks converted to haul a dozen or so backpacker type travelers, typically on long, multi-week trips around Africa. When they arrive at a campsite, passengers pour out and erect numerous little olive green dome tents. This different sort of overlanding is a good low budget way to see Africa. Frequently the camps that cater to this type of tourist are set up with big lawns to handle all the tents, as opposed to the individual pitches for private vehicles. From our kind of traveler there is sometimes a bit of animosity towards these trucks, that, at times, come with late night parties, noise and loud music. We’ve never had an issue, but I see the potential.

Ma, the proprietor of the Snake Park, said that covid has killed the overland truck business for now, and she hardly sees any campers these days. So we were solo in a simple but completely adequate campsite. I thought maybe a bus of other campers would liven the place up a bit. 

Heading out for errands, we were stopped by the police before we could pull onto the main road. He told us we must wait. The road we empty of traffic, and a few people were lining the roadway. Then a long string of land cruisers began to whip by us at high speed. What was going on? We asked a passerby, and he explained that it was President Hassan’s convoy. Then another flock of large, fancy Land Cruisers, including two stretched land cruiser 300s, zoomed by. I presume that was the president.

Jenny posited that perhaps she was on a PR visit to the Serengeti, in which case they must have graded that dreaded road before she went. There is no way President Hassan would put up with that awful road. Later it occurred to us that if she was heading to the Serengeti, she probably would have flown, so no luck there.

Our Arusha chores were nothing special, but still it is a city that drains me disproportionately to it’s size. Fortunately Jenny kept us on track. These sorts of chores can be tedious and challenging, but figuring out all the various puzzles is part of traveling like this.

We toured the various supermarkets catering to upper middle class locals and expats to stock up on specialty items. We found tortillas again. What luck! We got our gas bottles refilled. In East Africa they use a different thread for their propane this is not always a given. These are the sort of small details that can occupy a disproportionate about of time while on an international overland trip. 

While we were waiting for our gas bottles to be refilled, I saw a guy having some technical difficulties on his bicycle. He was struggling to fix a stuck chain without tools. I got out the tool box. Though we had no common language, except that of bicycles, in a few minutes his ride was repaired. He was extremely grateful. 

One particular challenge was booking special campsites for the Serengeti. TANAPA, the parks authority, does not make it easy to book campsites if you are not a tour operator. The whole system is geared for guided tours, not for private visitors like us. 

Like other Tanzanian parks, there are public campsites and special campsites. The public sites are a grass lawn, typically with modest ablutions and a sort of caged enclosure for the mobile safari operators to set up a kitchen. The special campsites are just a piece of African turf, nothing else. One must be fully self sufficient. As I’ve mentioned before, we value the bush experience at night quite highly and previously have had lackluster experiences in busy public campsites, so it was special campsites for us. 

TANAPA has recently changed to an online digital booking system. I gather from one tour operator that this is in theory welcome, but as with a big change in any system, the execution has been rocky. 

We figured we’d just go to the TANAPA head office in Arusha in person and sort it out there. When we did, to our surprise they said they no longer even have the ability to make bookings. It can only be done via the online portal. They also confessed that the online portal is not set up for private visitors. The ranger that came to help us kindly called someone from the IT department to come down and guide us through the process.

The online booking portal is highly convoluted. There is absolutely no way we’d have managed without our patient tutor. In the end we managed to book four nights in the Serengeti and receive control numbers for each. Then you take the control number to the bank and pay against that number. After receiving a receipt then the booking is confirmed. Yes, this is the improved system.

One catch, you cannot pay by credit card. It is cash or mobile money only, and the only way for a foreigner to load mobile money is cash. We were told by several people that some banks can take payment on a control number by credit card, but we tried several and they all said no. So basically, cash only. And we’re talking a lot of cash, well over $1000 USD. The whole process is totally frustrating. By reading about it in this tedious detail I suppose you are getting a sense of it.

A few hours later we felt mildly victorious, bookings made, but not yet paid. They have credit card readers at the gate, and we hypothesized that perhaps we could pay for our bookings there. 

To Lake Manyara National Park

After a few other odds and ends it was finally time to depart Arusha. We made the roughly two hour drive to Lake Manyara National Park. On the way I got pulled over for speeding, which I was. There is a 50 kph zone in the middle of nowhere, no villages in sight, and I had missed the sign. The police officer was very friendly though, and after a chat about what a nice time we were having visiting Tanzania he let me off with a warning. We have heard all these tales of corrupt cops extorting bribes, but our experience is mostly the opposite. Even on the few occasions someone has asked for something, it has typically been half hearted and easy to parry.

Lake Manyara sits at the bottom of an escarpment. Immediately west of the park are dramatic cliffs that form the eastern edge of the Ngorongoro Conservation Area. Note that Ngorongoro is not managed by TANAPA, but instead by the Ngorongoro Conservation Area Authority (NCAA).

Manyara is a soda lake, and at times it hosts thousands of flamingos. It also has reportedly very good bird life as well as the usual African wildlife that we’ve come to expect in national parks, elephants, antelope, predators, etc.

The gate at Manyara is well sign posted and very organized. Park permits are single entry for 24 hours, so our midday arrival would allow us an afternoon game drive and a morning game drive the following day.

Stepping up to the kiosk, to save our funds a bit, we asked to stay at the public campsite. The officer was very professional, but told us regretfully that the Endebash public campsite toilets were not working. He suggested that perhaps we could instead stay at a special campsite, though it would cost more. He said nothing about the campsite at the gate, which we were not that interested in anyway, so we didn’t ask. 

I entered negotiation mode. After some chit chat I politely asked if perhaps, since we had planned to stay at the public campsite, we might be given a special campsite for the public campsite price. Never mind there are no toilets at the special campsites, so I’m not sure why the toilets not working at Endebash should make any difference.

Nevertheless my proposal appealed to his sense of fairness since we hadn’t expressed any desire for the special campsites from the outset. If we had, I’m sure we’d be paying full price. He said he thought this seemed like a good idea, but we would have to ask his supervisor. 

We were shown to an office where a business-like women dressed in a ranger uniform sat doing paperwork. As always in Africa, we were given seats. Even for the shortest conversation it is impossible to decline a seat for this sort of thing. We’ve tried in the past and failed. We sat and exchanged our habaris and mzuris, the standard pleasantries of Swahili Africa. She looked at us expectantly, and we looked at our ranger from the kiosk. We hoped he might make our case for us.

He came up with a quick explanation in Swahili. She looked at us, then him, and her face was like, “thats it?” eyebrows raised. Sawa. Request granted. Alright! How nice is that, a special campsite for the public campsite price. We were pleased.

After the tiresome errands of Arusha and the stomach churning knowledge of how much a visit to the Serengeti was going to cost, it was really nice to have these kindnesses from the Tanzanian authorities.

Into the park we went. The forest in the north of the park is really impressive, massive towering trees hang overhead forming a dense green canopy. There were creepers and vines, and the roots of the big fig trees formed large buttresses on the jungle floor. We zigged and zagged around the northern tracks but did not see much in the way of wildlife, some baboons and bushbuck, however the forest really impressed. 

The first track that went down to the lake came to an early end, flooded. Lake Manyara has risen due to the tremendous rains this part of East Africa has received the last two years. These are the same rains that have raised Tanganyika and Victoria as well. The forest thins as it gets closer to the lake, and we saw huge stands of dead fever trees, drowned by the flood waters. The water has receded a bit, but still has a ways to go to reach normal. 

We’d chatted with a guide at the gate, who had told us about some lions sleeping in trees further south in the park, at maji moto ndogo. Though never when I choose, occasionally my subconscious delivers useful fragments of my paltry Swahili, learned working in Kenya over a decade ago. Maji moto ndogo translates to the small hot spring, which was conveniently marked on our map. 

The lions of Lake Manyara are famous for their tree climbing tendencies. Though any lion is capable of climbing trees and might do so from time to time, some lions are known to have made a habit of it. In particular these include the lions of Lake Manyara, some prides in the Serengeti and also those in Queen Elizabeth National Park in Uganda. 

If you can count on lions for anything it’s to lie about and do nothing more or less all day, so we wandered about the game tracks of Manyara without haste, slowly working our way down to the small hot springs. We found the springs, small indeed, just a tiny puddle by the side of the road. 

Now on high alert looking in trees for our lions, sure enough we found them. And no other vehicles were present. This is travel during covid, even in this normally busy park we had the star attractions to ourselves for a little while. It was getting to be late afternoon now and we guessed that most of the guests staying outside the park were on their way to their respective lodges, missing out on these prime hours of game viewing.  

One vehicle did come down the track and politely thanked us for finding the lions for them. We all sat and watched as four lions dozed on stout branches, their dangling legs making them look far less fierce than their reputation. They’d get up and rearrange themselves from time to time, but otherwise were sedate. 

Our campsite was only a couple kilometers away and therefore we could postpone leaving our lions until the last possible minute. This was in hope that they might perk up and do something. With fifteen minutes to go a fifth lion hopped up into the tree and settled down for a snooze. 

Where did she come from? Likely she’d been resting at the base of the tree in the tall grass all along, just meters from the vehicle, and us unaware all the while. Yet another reminder of lions’ stealth and camouflage.

Finally it was time to go to camp, per park rules we needed to be in camp by 1900. We had been assigned Bagoyo A. The turnoff is signposted, but the track is very narrow. Tall hedges of intimidating thorns flanking the road, they drug down the side of the cruiser with a screech. A few hundred meters and it opens up, some acacia trees and clumps of bushes with a couple modest clearings to choose from.

We could see an old fire pit and set up next to this. Our site was certainly wild. We had a little bit of a view up the hillside, but otherwise we were tucked in pretty tight to the foliage. Our first concern was that we wouldn’t be able to see game approach until it was on top of us, but otherwise we were happy with our wilderness locale.

It was already getting dark so we got onto the task of making camp and starting a fire. The insects began to come out and we hoped the fire and a bit of smoke would help the situation. Miraculously we were able to marshal the ingredients of tortillas, cheese, avocado and cilantro all at the same time meant we were having deluxe quesadillas pollo tonight, very exciting. 

As Jenny worked on dinner the swarms detected us, or our lights, and we were inundated with small black insects. Some type of termite? This was fairly exasperating, a consequence of putting arriving at camp until the last possible moment. Some people get back to camp early and eat before dark to avoid this fate, but then we feel we’d miss out on prime game viewing. 

Lots of termites and melting cheese are an unfortunate combination. No doubt we consumed a fair number of the little critters in our dinner. Dinner was followed by a light rain, it was time to retire. 

Intermittent rain pattered pleasantly on the tent through the night. We had hoped to hear lions at night, but didn’t hear a peep out of them. In the morning we set off to search for them and found that it must have rained quite a bit up the escarpment. All the dry washes we had crossed the day before were either running or had clearly run at night and already dropped. One steel bridge was heaped high with debris and we had to get out to clear it. 

Working further south we came to the Endebash river, still dry. The track on the north side was blocked by fallen trees. Part way along the south bank we saw, to our surprise, a brown front of water advancing down the sandy riverbed. Here was the river entering flood, right before our eyes. 

In BBC’s Planet Earth there is a scene where they film the first water running down one of the normally dry rivers of Namibia, and remember thinking, “how the heck did they get that shot?” Here the water wasn’t moving very fast and we went back to the bridge to watch the river advance down. 

I suppose this means that the morning’s game viewing wasn’t exactly sensational, but to watch a river enter flood is pretty unique. We enjoyed our morning coffee and tea, watching rivulets of muddy brown water advance, thickening into little fingers of water, then streams and finally the steady flow of a river.

The Endebash Public Campsite was not far away and we went to see where we might have stayed. The turn is signposted, but after that the track deteriorates rapidly. Overgrown and one washed out ravine is threatening to cutoff the camp entirely. We persisted, branches dragging across the top of the vehicle and thorns scraping down the sides. 

We found the campsite, sort of. It is overgrown and would be entirely uninhabitable by anyone but the most desperate of campers. We should have known that “the toilets are not working” was a euphemism for a greater problem. I have noticed that Africans on the whole loath to deliver bad news. Any news that might be disappointing is at least dressed up with an optimistic slant, “the road is a bit good.” Or my favorite from my days at MSF, when we asked about the security situation when approaching the Somali border, “It is a bit safe.” Ah yes, how reassuring.

The directness of the statement “The toilets are not working,” should have tipped us off. No loss though. We made a many point turn in the confines of the overgrown track and went onward to explore more of Lake Manyara National Park.

We went as far south as the large hot springs, seeing giraffe, bushbuck, impala, buffalo and a few elephants. Birdlife was also very good. We had to be out of the park by midday, so we made our final explorations northward and exited with time to spare. 

That Thing Happens

Migobani Camp, lying conveniently just outside the park gate, was our destination for the night. It came highly recommended online. A rocky track takes steep and narrow switchbacks up the first steps of the escarpment, over 150m of rise in a very short time.

Cresting the steep hill we arrived, greeted by a massive green lawn, an enormous baobab and a very attractive infinity pool. Quite a spiffy setup. Around the perimeter were a few large permanent safari tents, and scattered around the lawn were the typical green dome tents used by the mobile safari tours.

Migobani caters to the mobile safari operators more than to us, but we were made very welcome. There is a nice shared camp kitchen with water for washing up, and really nice ablutions with hot water showers from solar water heaters. There is also a restaurant and bar area and almost the whole camp has a spectacular view of Lake Manyara and the flanking the escarpment. It is quite a stunning arrangement.

We were instructed to park on the lawn closest to the edge of the camp and we felt like we had the best view of the whole place. We were headed into the Serengeti soon, what a great place to spoil ourselves before some bush camping. 

After sundowner by the pool we had a fire. The camp does not allow fires on the ground, to preserve their impressive lawn I suppose. For $5, quality wood included, they’ll bring over a fire pit. We are in Maasai territory now and two askaris (guards), dressed in traditional Maasai shukas and armed with the large daggers that every Maasai carries, brought over our fire pit and wood. You could be forgiven for thinking this dress is a show for the tourists, but in the town of Mto Wa Mbu it is common to see people dressed like this. Further into the NCAA and other parts of Maasai country it is more common than western dress.

We had our fire and stared off at our spectacular view, getting excited about heading into the Serengeti.

It is a bit of a riddle to figure out all the permits for the Serengeti. We decided to forego the extra expense of Ngorongoro Crater since we had been before. It is an additional $250 dollars to go into the crater, plus it more or less necessitates camping at Simba A on the crater rim, a campsite we consider not very desirable, particularly at the price.  

Instead we would pay the fees to enter the NCAA merely to transit. It still costs a fortune, but when entering the Serengeti from the east, as most do, by a matter of geography the NCAA insulates the Serengeti and cannot be easily bypassed. We’d spend the day driving through the NCAA and arrive at the Serengeti more or less midday. Since permits are issued 24hrs from entry it is best to not arrive too early so that on the day you leave you don’t have to rush out of the park to avoid paying for an additional day. If all this seems confusing then that probably explains why most do this with an organized tour. 

We woke early, planning to head off pretty quick so we would not have to rush through the NCAA and the Serengeti. It is after all quite a long way, almost 200km, on very corrugated roads.

Shortly after the alarm went off Jenny said, “I have a confession to make.” That doesn’t sound good. “My throat feels scratchy.” Hmm. Could be nothing. Could be something. Jenny’s allergies had been acting up for the first time of the trip while in Manyara, and now a sore throat. Covid was suspected. With the great expense associated with the Serengeti we wanted to be feeling good, and naturally if it was covid we wanted to be near better health services should they be needed.

We decided to postpone to give us time to evaluate. Our friends that had joined us in Zambia had thoughtfully left four rapid covid tests, so it seemed time to try one out. With some trepidation we faithfully followed the instructions and received a disappointing result. If you squinted and looked hard, the very faintest of double lines. A double line is positive and the instructions go to great pains to tell you that any line, no matter how faint, is a positive result. Shit. Jenny felt fine. She told me that in “the before times” she wound’t have given it a second thought, that she’d had allergy attacks much worse than this. 

Of course we didn’t want her to have covid, but we are both double vaccinated and got boosters just before we flew to Africa and felt the actual health risk was low. Mostly we wanted to make sure that we didn’t get anyone else sick and we both didn’t get sick at the same time.

We sent photos of the test result back to a friend of ours that happens to work in infectious diseases, who now spends a lot of her time on covid. She said she couldn’t see the second line, but that if Jenny had any symptoms to isolate and test again in 24 hours. If her symptoms were still building she should have more viral load the next day, and thus be more likely to test positive.

Already we began the awkward practice of social distancing from each other. It is strange to social distance from your spouse, especially if you’ve been living within a foot or two for the last months. The ground tent was deployed as Jenny’s isolation house. 

Before we started this trip we talked a lot about avoiding covid, and what we would do if we contracted it. In hindsight those conversations seem very abstract, some sort of logistical problem. Dealing with it for real, making so many decisions about how and what precautions to take, was stressful. 

The next morning, New Years Eve and Jenny’s birthday, we tested her again and Jenny got a decisive positive test result from the rapid test. Covid for her birthday. Not exactly the wilderness experience we’d planned for the occasion. This was something of a trifecta of bad news, first our friends couldn’t meet up with us, then our other friends came down with coivd, and now this. It was a roller coaster and we’ll admit a blow to the psyche. The good news were very mild and she was in good spirits. What to do now?

We shifted to the very back corner of camp and settled in for isolation. A German couple on a long term overland trip was adjacent to us and we confessed our situation to them. They were comfortable and felt our precautions were appropriate. Jenny stayed in our small camp and I did the cooking and washing up. A friend back home suggested that Jenny seemed in pretty good shape, perhaps this was just a ploy to get me to do the dishes all the time? 

For her birthday I made Jenny steak over the fire and baked fresh bread in our dutch oven. I’d been promising fresh bread the whole trip this is the first time I actually did it. It came out okay, proven because Jenny ate just about the whole loaf, but not quite what it is supposed to look like.

After a couple days Jenny’s symptoms abated and we continued to wait out the isolation, following the American CDCs new guidelines of five days of isolation. During that time I cancelled our Serengeti bookings and blogged, while Jenny got very bored and read a lot. WhatsApp was great to keep in touch with friends and family who gave much moral support. Jenny told one friend that given her mild case one of the worst parts was the “covid shame,”which autocorrect changed to “covid Shane”. Our friend responded perfectly, “Covid Shane is a jerk!”. 

The totality of symptoms was a day of a scratchy throat, a day of a runny nose and a slight cough on the morning of the third day. Thats it, thank you vaccines. We are extremely grateful that her case was not more severe and we spent a lot of time thinking about those that were not so fortunate. 

In our case the isolation worked out to effectively six days, with day 0 being the first day of symptoms and going to get a PCR test in Arusha on day six. Since symptoms had abated our plan was to stop isolating from each other when we departed Migobani and to spend another five days away from everyone else, mostly in the Serengeti. This meant the few times we had to interact with people, such as at the park gate, I was on point in an N95, since Jenny was still high risk and obviously I was exposed.

Getting a PCR test in Arusha has one significant flaw. First you book the test online, no problem there. Then you get a control number to pay for your test. You take the control number to a bank to pay and the bank provides a receipt confirming payment. This means one has to stand in line at the bank inches from others (social distancing is not a thing in Tanzania) for an interminably long time. Ironically it feels like the most likely time you are going to get covid, or give it, iswhen you are waiting in line at the bank to pay for your covid test. 

Fortunately we had paid for a test already, scheduled for post Serengeti to get us into Kenya, and therefore had done this exercise pre-covid. We had also upgraded our masking to N95s or KN95s for the last week or so prior to all this, though clearly that didn’t prevent Jenny from contracting covid somewhere. We suspect the “outdoor transmission very unlikely” thing is no longer true with the Omicron variant. 

There is a rumor in Tanzania that tourists do not test positive for covid, as it’s bad for business. I don’t know how that sort of policy could be executed in practice, but at the lab we told them we wanted to be tested to confirm covid, not for travel. They proceeded, taking the sample in the quickest and most pleasant way possible, which I suspect is the reason that many might not test positive. It did not seem very thorough. 

We were wary, as even those that have recovered from covid can test positive for weeks afterwards. This would wreak havoc with or plans to go into Kenya. Here is an excellent example of why people, reasonably, do not want to travel internationally during covid. We are lucky to have the time to absorb these inefficiencies. This turned outnot to be a problem because we both tested negative. We were not entirely confident of the accuracy of this result and proceeded with our plan to continue a somewhat less aggressive isolation in the Serengeti.

I confess some trepidation about sharing the details of our covid story with the internet, but I thought a description of travelers actually experiencing this, as many I am sure have imagined, might be good to share. Certainly we took what we felt was the best balance of safety and practicality.

The Serengeti

We provisioned again in Arusha on PCR testing day and went back to Migobani, well situated to jump off into the Serengeti. It is a long haul through the Serengeti, we planned to exit via Klein’s gate and Lake Natron. Given the difficulty of getting this far and the sky high costs we also planned to make the most of our park fees with long game drives, so fuel endurance was a concern. 

With jerry cans topped up we carry 170 liters of fuel. We’ve been averaging around 7km/l recently, but we use 6km/l for planning for travel on gravel roads, and 5km/l for deep sand, though we didn’t foresee more than patches of that on this route. At 6km/l that gives us, theoretically, 1020km of range. There are two fuel stations in the central part of the park at Seronera, that deliver poor quality fuel, so we’d use those if we needed.

After all the delays to our plans we finally set off for the Big Kahuna, the Serengeti.

The Nitty Gritty

Lake Manyara National Park

Fees notwithstanding this park is fairly small and two nights would be plenty. However since TANAPA insists on it’s pound of flesh being an ample one we felt like one night in the park was enough. Park fees are as previously described, link here. They again assumed our vehicle was less than 2000kgs and we again did not dissuade them otherwise, but who knows how long until luck runs out. This kept the vehicle fee at $40 pd. Camping at the public campsite price is $30 pppn. Entry was $50 pp per 24hr period. All with an 18% VAT, sheesh. It was getting harder and harder to divorce the negative feelings of such prices with our park experience. After an hour or two in the park we forgot about it, but when entering it is painful.

Special Campsites – we were assigned Bagoyo A. We also checked out Bagoyo B, which we think was quite a bit better. It has quite few trees taht seem like they might be habitable by lions, so beware. It is also a bit more open and generally more atmospheric. There are other special campsites in Lake Manyara, but we did not inspect these. Some of the lake side ones may be flooded at this time.

PCR Testing in Arusha

PCR testing is available at Mount Meru Referral Hospital, just north of the big roundabout in the center of town. If coming from the south take the second entrance, which is much less busy. Testing is scheduled online here: https://pimacovid.moh.go.tz/#/booking The fee is $50 USD, payable in TSH. After booking you get a control number and you pay via Mpesa, at a wakala or bank. Any typos when paying are your fault and you’ll have to pay twice, there is no recouping money sent in error. Because of this and the rare report of lost payments we were advised by a travel company to pay at a bank. 

Paying at a bank is an interminably slow process. The second time we struck a compromise,  and used a wakala that was an official NMB bank agent and that was much faster.

When arriving at the lab, walk up to the front of the line and offer them your passport. They’ll call your name when they’re ready for you. I have been tested dozens of times for work and travel before this and this was the most lackadaisical test I’ve ever received, so I don’t have a lot of faith that it would be positive unless you were brimming with covid. 

We’ve since been tested twice. Results the first time came in ~40 hrs, the second time in ~30 hrs. The certificate was date/time stamped with the date the results were issued, not when the sample was taken. I believe this is incorrect, but works out in the travelers favor as it gives you extra time to use your test for border crossing.

Migobani

Migobani is great. The staff there were extremely helpful, and also happy to leave us in our corner and manage our situation. The camp is fairly busy with the comings and goings of the mobile safari operators. I saw a complaint of this on iOverlander, but I submit that people keep in mind that this camp caters to that market, not to long haul travelers like ourselves.

Ablutions were excellent. Open air with a high thatched roof, solar hot water for showers. Ablutions 4.5/5. I only withheld the coveted 5/5 rating because maybe they need one more ablution block, these became slightly overwhelmed at peak times and suffered a little, though not bad at all.

We stayed away from the bar/restaurant/pool after the first night, but the setting is lovely. Drinks and food are a bit overpriced, but not terribly. 

I think this camp makes for a perfect staging area to prepare for, or recover from, bush camping in the parks. Mto Wa Mbu is just down the hill and has lots of fresh fruits and veggies and most other staples, though specialty items we had to get in Arusha. 

I will provide some notes on Special Campsites in the Serengeti in my next post. 

We’ve been camped at Twiga Lodge for a few days, making for productive blog updating. But it is time to get off the computer for a while. Into Kenya tomorrow….

Dec 16th – 22nd, 2021

The next milestone in our plan was to visit the coastal ruins at Kilwa, on the coast. But how to get there? From Kisolanza it is roughly equidistant to travel the Tan-Zam highway towards Dar or to take the coast. To go south would mean taking the T6 via Songea, Mtwara district and Lindi. This would avoid the heavy truck traffic and would generally have fewer people and villages, and it might even be a bit faster.

This southern road is much less traveled, in part because it wasn’t long ago that this road was unpaved. From the Bradt Guide, prior to new tarmac:

“Songea to Tunduru road…mostly through thick, tsetse fly invested miombo woodland, is probably the worst in the country…If you’re self driving outside the dry season, getting stuck in mud is a certainty, so fill up on as many passengers as you can to provide the necessary muscle power when horse power fails.” “At other times mud can block the road for days or weeks at a time….A warning, do not attempt self drive in anything other than bone-dry weather if you’re not an expert off road driver, or if you lack advanced mechanic skills…” 

Those days are behind us though. Chris from Lakeshore Lodge was quite keen on this road and said it was now both beautiful tarmac and had beautiful vistas. Paul, who we’d met in Mbeya, drives this route once a month and was able to assure us that the advice from the old Bradt guide no longer applied; it was drivable in two days. 

Wanting to branch out a bit from the regular routes, we thought we’d give it a try.

With a mere 1199 km to Kilwa, we set off from Kisolanza. This involves doubling back towards Mbeya a little bit, still on that very good stretch of new road, and in not long, making the turn south at Makambako. 

I should note that two veterans of African travel advised us to visit the Kitulo Plateau National Park, known as “The Garden of the Gods” for its high meadows of wild flowers. This is not far from our route, between Mbeya and the T6. These flowers typically only bloom in December and January, so now is the time to go. We were considering it, but we ended up spending  extra time getting the car serviced in Mbeya and an extra day at Kisolanza, and we just ran out of time, wanting to be on the coast for Christmas and to meet friends shortly after. On top of this Paul said it hadn’t rained much this year, that January would be a better time to go. That sealed it. We’d save Kitulo for another time.

The first leg to Njombe was uneventful, just regular medium quality tarmac and a fair amount of traffic, presumably heading to the larger towns of Njombe or Songea. Incidentally the cheese we bought in Mbeya was made by some benedictine monks that have a monastery outside Njombe.

The elevation is fairly high, some 1600m or so, and climbs as high as 1900m. We drove by many forestry plantations, pencil straight tall pine trees planted in tidy rows. These highlands are the hub of Tanzania’s timber industry, all farmed forestry as far as we could tell, so different from the forests at home. 

Njombe is pleasantly cool and smells of pine and eucalyptus trees. After winding through the steep hills of town we spent the rest of the day dropping down narrow switchbacks, down down down. By the end of the day we rolled into Songea, having dropped almost a thousand meters of elevation. 

Some scenes of the road for you

Camping is limited down here. Chris had assured us that bush camping was safe in Tanzania. If we had any concerns, we were to just ask to camp at any police station and they’d have no problem letting us stay the night. That wasn’t that attractive though. Instead we stuck with Paul’s suggestion, to camp in the courtyard of the Heritage Cottage Hotel in Songea.

Camping in hotel courtyards is a thing once you get a little further off the beaten path in Africa. Find a place with secure parking, ask if you can camp in the corner and usually they’ll let you set up. Typically this is at a reduced rate, and they’ll give you a key to a room so you have a toilet and shower.

We could’ve just paid the extra few dollars for a room, but it is surprisingly inconvenient to move out of the cruiser for just one night. Do you hump all your valuables inside, camera gear and laptops and such? Our clothes and stuff are also not in luggage, so it is sort of a hassle to pack up in the cruiser, move into a room, unpack and then move out the next day.

We are much more at home in our little roof top tent, camp chairs and cooking on the stove than we are in odd roadside hotel rooms. 

The Heritage did have a restaurant and bar, totally empty, so we thought we’d give it a try. We started with the typical error of not asking for a “Kili biridi,” which is a cold beer. Many locals drink their beer at room temperature, and we received ours warm. We needed to get into the habit of specifying “biridi.”

Restaurant service was slow, the beers weren’t that cold, the meal average. Still though, as the power flicked in and out and we played cards, ate chapatis and chicken, we were very content. 

Tanesco, the power company, earns universal scorn from all Tanzanians. This is the same in Zambia (Zesco) and in South Africa (Eskom). We hear the gripes of lack of maintenance, incompetence, didn’t used to be like this, etc… However, in the book I mentioned earlier’ Africa, Dowden, he notes that many African leaders have simply underestimated their growing populations need for electricity. With rising populations, reduced poverty and economies growing, sometimes in double digit percentages per year, more and more electricity was needed. They just didn’t build enough power generating capacity fast enough. Thus, brownouts.

Since you can’t build a power plant over night this is a problem that takes years to rectify. No doubt a bit of maintenance wouldn’t go amiss in the mean time. When this comes up in conversation (usually in the dark, when the powers had just gone off), we always mention that PG&E, California’s biggest power company and one of the largest utility providers in America, also turns off the power on us. They do this because in the right weather trees can fall on the power lines and start devastating wildfires, including ones that have burned whole towns. This too is also partially due to lack of maintenance, as they are supposed to trim the trees and brush around vulnerable power lines. Usually this information is received with a mixture of delight and surprise, that America could have such problems. 

We’ve noticed that the United States and Africa actually have a lot of problems in common; it is the magnitude of those problems that is the difference.

The Heritage Cottages was fine enough, but nothing particularly great. Thus it was an early start for us. The next run from Songea was almost 600km, a distance that in most of Tanzania is simply not drivable in a day. But we’d heard the road had just been redone, and it was no problem. 

It was true. Heading out of town a sign proclaimed that this road was a “Gift from the American People,” or something like that. Interesting, as a huge percentage of new roads in Africa are built by the Chinese, usually part of their Belt and Road initiative. This road had several signs, in English and Swahili, with the “Gift of…” phrase.

It was a wonderfully nice road. The lanes generous in width, lines painted clearly and most appreciated were wide shoulders. This means that all the foot traffic, bicycles and other small vehicles have a place to be when full sized vehicles are passing, making for a lot less dangerous situations on the road. 

There is not a lot of traffic from Songea to the coast, and with a perfect road we sped along easily. This driving was much less stressful than the Tan-Zam highway. Villages were spread apart, speed humps applied more sparingly, and all was sunny and easy as the kilometers ticked by. We continued to listen to Spillover, our audiobook, which happened to have a whole section devoted to the first SARS. It was eerie to listen about the initial stages of the SARS outbreak, c. 2003. The book is full of parallels and prescient foreshadowing about the current covid situation.

Some way along the drive the villages disappear, and we saw signs proclaiming that we were transiting the Selous-Niassa wildlife corridor. To the north lies the Selous Game Reserve. The northern part of “The Selous” (pronounced with a silent S at the end), as it is known, has recently been turned into a National Park, Nyerere National Park. Niassa National Reserve is a game reserve in northern Mozambique. There is a huge area of land devoted to a wildlife corridor between the two wilderness areas. We saw no signs of game, but it was nice to see this land available for wildlife movement.

Pushing further east we began to see huge inselbergs, similar to what we’ve seen in Mozambique in our earlier travels. I’m told these great granite rocks also make up part of the Zimbabwean eastern highlands, though we’ve yet to visit there. 

They also reminded me of the hills we’d hiked near Mutinondo Wilderness in Zambia, yet we were some 800 km away as the crow flies. Something to do with the rift valley? But these inselbergs seem relatively isolated. One of my coworkers back home did her doctoral work in Africa, and I thought she might know the story. I emailed with some photos and coordinates and received this reply:

“…the similarities that you are seeing are related to all of these rocks being old, metamorphosed rocks related to orogenic (mountain) belts.  I think the ones in Zambia are part of the Irumide Belt and ~Mesoproterozoic in age (1.6–1 billion yrs old). The Irumide Belt (along with the Zambezi) neighbors the Damara Belt, but has a slightly different history. In general, though, these belts record the suturing of the African continent. These rocks are made up of old crystalline basement that has been highly deformed. Some of this deformation includes intrusion by granitoids and syn-orogenic plutonic rocks, which is probably why they remind you of the Sierras. I am unsure of the Tanzanian rocks you pointed me to, but also think these may be part of an orogenic sequence…maybe the East African Orogen?

It’s true that you are entering the realm of the East African Rift, which is an incredibly fascinating rift valley on many accounts.  The East African Rift system began developing much more recently (~20-ish million years ago, whereas I think the rocks you are looking at are recording tectonic collisions >1 billion years ago). This divergent tectonic boundary, that is splitting eastern Africa into two tectonic plates, is still active.” – Dr. N Nieminski

Aren’t scientists great? This response made me briefly homesick. I am no scientist at all, but I am surrounded by them at work, and her detailed response peppered with science-y jargon is the sort of thing I’ve gotten used to. I was able to derive some meaning out of the above Sanskrit; I hope you find it interesting. 

In another place these magnificent rocks might be a park or have some fantastic campsite or hiking trails, but here in southeast Tanzania they were the backdrop to a few small villages, or simply left to be alone in the country side, as they always have been, patiently watching over us. 

The final stretches of the drive change character somewhere around Masasi, where the palm trees were growing, thick and it became more and more green. Also more and more Muslim, very few women without a headscarf and men wearing intricately woven cylindrical taqiyah caps and long thobe gowns that look so very comfortable.

Statistical sources disagree, but Tanzania is something like 60/30 Christian/Islamic or 30/30/30 Christian/Islamic/Indigenous beliefs.. Here in the southeast it is very much majority Islam.

This is also the Mtwara region, where, you might note on the US State Department website, there is a travel advisory due to the risk of terrorist attacks. This is due to the neighboring Punta Delgado province of Mozambique, just across the Ruvuma river, being the base of operations for Mozambique’s Al Shebaab. This is not the same Al Shebab as the one in Somalia.

The north of Mozambique has been long neglected by the south, making it a toehold for Islamic extremism in Southern Africa. Though Mozambique was warned by all not to let this issue ferment, ferment it has. This has resulted in violence in Northern Mozambique. A recent incident involving expatriate oil workers got the attention of some of the powers that be. African Union troops, along with other stakeholders, have been sent in, and the situation is stabilizing. 

According to an expat we met in Tanzania this has resulted in Al Shebab being somewhat neutralized, but also dispersed, which has meant a few incursions across the border into southern Tanzania’s Mtwara region. No doubt the situation is much more complex than I have summarized. For us the end result was we’re not going to Mtwara, just barely passing through and into neighboring Lindi.

Lying just up the coast from Mtwara, Lindi is a small beachside town that was the center of regional control for the Germans, way back in the pre-WWI days when Tanzania, then Tanganyika, was a German colony. Paul, the expat we met in Mbeya, had set us up with Matthew, another expat, in Lindi. Somehow we got sort of hooked up in the bored/lonely Zimbabwean expat circle, and here we were bouncing to our next host. 

We’d been in touch with Matthew via WhatsApp, and Paul was correct, he was keen to have visitors. Blindly following a google maps pin into the hills above Lindi, we found ourselves at Matthew’s house, a simple, comfortable abode with a stunning view of the bay. 

Matthew was enthusiastic to meet us, instantly shoving cold beers into our hands as we sat on his patio enjoying the view and started swapping stories. We’ve experienced this many times now, that there is no beating around the bush when we meet people on our travels. They just dive right in.

Long ago I sailed to some remote islands in the South Pacific. The Captain at the time warned us, “When you meet people, they are going to be more forward and personal than you’re used to. They don’t get a lot of visitors and just don’t have the time to spare being timid.” He was right. Almost immediately personal questions get asked, and good natured ribbing starts right away.

The same was true here. In the 2000s, Zimbabwe took a political turn that scattered many white Zimbabweans all over. We continue to meet these curious white Africans, sort of economic refugees. Some have UK passports and could conceivably go to England. Some have stuck it out and stayed in Zimbabwe. Many were born in Africa and would never be happy in England. Instead they have carved out small niches for themselves all over the continent, frequently in agriculture.

Matthew was one of these ex-Zimbos and an incredibly gracious host. After a cold beer, we had a wonderful outdoor shower. Then it was off to town. He was keen to take us to Raymond’s for dinner and where we’d actually stay the night. Much in the way it had been with Paul, we were swept up in a current and just held on to stay with the program he had in mind.

We pulled into beachside bar, Raymond’s, which is actually called Makuti Bay, though there is no sign. With Christmas music playing, a few locals were having drinks under palms swaying in the breeze over white sand, pretty as a picture. Matthew introduced us to Raymond. He was from northern Tanzania; his family had been in the hospitality business. Somehow he made his way to the south coast. He loves it here, and for the last several years has been working hard to establish a beach bar, restaurant and bungalows, all bit by bit. 

Matthew was good friends with him, and we gathered Raymond was probably his only close friend that wasn’t an expat. All the other expats have trickled out of town over the last couple years, whether because of the security situation to the south or because of covid. I got the impression that Matthew was down here at Raymond’s a lot.  

Raymond was really great and was happy to have some rare mzungu tourists. He has one safari tent for guests, but is building a couple of bungalows right now. We spent the evening chatting with Matthew and Raymond, eating locally grown cashews and freshly caught tuna and generally had a great time. 

We were the first guests he’d had that had our own car, and after some discussion with Matthew they decided that we shouldn’t leave the car parked in the back, but should park it in front of the beach-front-safari tent. This necessitated one of his staff taking down the modest fence in front of the safari tent, and before we could say no, they had knocked it down. So I drove the cruiser right out onto the wide sand beach and then back over the sandy berm in front of the safari tent. Presto, secure beach-side parking.

We slept in the safari tent that night, with a trade wind breeze blowing and the brilliant light of a full moon shining down. On the white sand the moonlight was almost too bright. 

Kilwa was the next stop on our itinerary. In the morning Matthew came down to Raymond’s, and the four of us had a wonderful breakfast of fruit and avocados and rich dark coffee. It turned out the coffee was from Rob, the same Rob who is the Mbaya avocado farmer, who roasts his own coffee.

Matthew gave us a huge bag of fresh, locally grown cashews and a bottle of Rob’s avocado oil and sent us on our way. What a nice guy.

Kilwa

The drive up to Kilwa was incredibly green, and you could tell it rains a lot down here. There where huge baobabs, taller than previous ones we’ve seen, flush and full of green leaves. The drive to Kilwa isn’t too far, and in a little over three hours we arrived at Kilwa Beach Lodge, a place with bungalows and camping a little outside of town. 

We were the only guests, and they let us park right on the beach. We got a view of the fishing dhows, the ocean and swaying palms; it was all very wonderful. And hot. The coast is famous for being hot this time of year, and true to form, it was. If it wasn’t for the breeze, we would have suffered. 

Confusingly there are three Kilwas. Kilwa Masoko is the town at the end of the peninsula. Kilwa Kivinje is a village to the north, and Kilwa Kisiwani is the island that is a UNESCO world heritage site. 

We arranged through the lodge to visit the UNESCO site the next day. We could have organized this ourselves, but naturally this isn’t the sort of thing that one just pays a ticket and goes to; that would be too easy. We needed a permit from the antiquities office (how great is it that it’s called the “antiquities office”?), a mandatory guide and a boat transfer, all paid for and organized separately. We went with the lodge-organized package, which seemed simpler and the markup was minimal. 

The next day a bajaj, a sort of three wheeled Indian motorcycle taxi, called a tuktuk in Thailand, showed up. We took the bajaj to the antiquities office, got our permit and then headed down to the port. To my surprise the port, a modest affair, had a fenced off area that said “ISPS Secure Area.” ISPS is an internationally recognized set of rules for port security that came into effect after 9/11. It is also the source of some unwelcome administrative burden at my regular job back home. I was amused that even this small port had not escaped the ISPS effort.

We hiked down to water on the non-secure side of of the port and were shown to our transport, a rustic wooden sailing dhow normally employed for fishing. We had requested a sailing dhow specifically, whereas normally they charge a little more and use a power boat. 

Doffing our shoes and socks we waded through the mud and boarded our transport. The captain shoved us off and gave some quiet instructions in Swahili to our guide, who became the impromptu crew. The sail was set, and we began silently gliding across the channel towards the ruins at Kilwa Kisiwani. 

Twenty or so minutes later, too soon really because I was thoroughly enjoying the sailing, we came to the island. Again it was off with the shoes and over the rail to wade ashore. It was low tide, I gather this step is not necessary if the tide is higher. 

Our guide led us through the major sites of the ruins, a graveyard, a fort built by the Portuguese, and a palace and mosque complex. The earliest ruins date from the Sultan of Oman’s reign in the area and are pretty dilapidated. Being newer the fort is in better shape, dating from the 1800s, built by the Portuguese. Still, it was not possible to go up to the ramparts, it being too far gone in condition. The great mosque is quite impressive. It is old, but apparently much of it had been buried in a few meters of sediment. This preserved it, and it has recently been excavated so that you can now walk around. 

The island is still inhabited, a thousand or so residents that make their living by fishing. Moroccan scholar Ibn Battuta visited Kilwa in 1331 and described it as one of the most beautiful cities in the world, with a population over 10,000 at the time. Now it is a simple fishing village with crumbling ruins. I spent a lot of time pondering this. It was interesting to think about the rise of a city like this and its return to something that is probably not all that different than before the palace, forts and grand mosques and city were built. 

At the height of power in the 15th century, the Kilwa Sultanate claimed authority over the city-states of Malindi, Mvita (Mombasa), Pemba Island, Zanzibar, Mafia Island, Comoro, Sofala and the trading posts across the channel on Madagascar. Eventually this power moved to Zanzibar, and Kilwa began its decline.

We saw that the grand palace had not faired well over time, mostly crumbled walls, but there are a few interesting sections that have stood up to time and the elements well enough. Particularly and octagonal swimming pool, that we’re told was filled by hand from a nearby well. 

In deference to local custom Jenny wore a wrap to cover her legs, though no head scarf was expected. This was fine, except that it made activities like wading through the water, sailing and hiking around ruins a little more difficult and a little hotter on an already sweltering day. The guide was not concerned about this formality, and towards the end of the tour, when it was just him and the boat captain, he told Jenny she could take it off. 

From the grand palace we took crumbling steps down to the mangrove swamps, and not long after our little sailing dhow coasted into the shallows to retrieve us. The boat trip back was blissfully tranquil, skimming along.

I admired the vessel. At first glance it appears a rustic and humble craft. However in the parts that count you could see perfectly fit joints in the timbers and expertly done lashings for the spars. Other details had been deemed unnecessary and were left unfinished, an unnecessary vanity.

The staff at Kilwa Beach Lodge were really nice and checked in with us often. They kept asking us if we wanted to eat at the restaurant. This has happened to us a few places we’ve been now. Frequently we’ve been the only guests, and I don’t know if this is in an effort to be helpful, to drum up business or simply because the staff are bored. I suspect the latter. We relented and signed up for dinner. Dinner was fish, prepared perfectly, and we had a nice time discussing the day over our meal. 

For the Christmas holiday we had reserved five nights at Peoponi Beach Resort, to enjoy the beach and rinse off the road weariness of so many kilometers. This plan was what had set our Tanzania pace, and we were excited to stay put for a few days at the beach. 

Peponi is too far to drive in a day, and we needed to brave the notorious Dar es Salaam traffic, which I was not looking forward to. We got an early start to hit Dar midday and hopefully ameliorate the worst of the traffic. We swapped drivers on the outskirts of town, and Jenny summoned her nerves of steel for African city driving while I navigated.

We were low on supplies and stopped at a huge shopping mall, the first one we’d seen since Lusaka over a month ago, including a proper supermarket. Driving into the entrance all vehicles are stopped by security, and guards use mirrors on sticks to check the underside of your vehicle for bombs.

Jenny remarked, “I’m not sure if that makes me feel better or worse?” Heading into the Shoppers we were amazed. Here was a store that had everything. Frozen meat, spirits, snacks, highly coveted paper towels and all the other usual stuff. They even had tortillas, so we planned Mexican food. To my surprise they also carried products from Bob’s Red Mill, a specialty miller from the United States. 

What they did not have was much going in the way of covid concern. Theoretically Dar es Salaam has a mask mandate for covid, but I would estimate that at the mall less than 1% of people are actually masking, and outside the mall…0.1%? Nevertheless, the wide variety of selection in the supermarket was a huge novelty; however given all the omicron covid news we masked up and got in and out as fast as was practical. Whatever your opinions may be regarding covid, getting sick in a foreign country without our usual network of support, or getting stuck not being able to cross a border because of a positive test was not on our list of things to do.

We spent the night at the Traveler’s Lodge in Bagomoyo, camped on a beautiful lawn full of blooming flame trees. The owner stopped by and chatted for a while, telling us his story. He was a German expat who moved here in his 20s. Now in his 60s, he’s spent his whole life building this lodge and living in Bagomoyo. 

He told us his covid woes. When the pandemic began, he had 100% booking cancelations, and with tears in his eyes, he had to lay off staff he’d hired decades ago. Then to his surprise he started getting a lot more bookings from well to do locals, mostly from Dar, coming up to get out of the city. For now his lodge is making it, just. He also poured out a torrent of opinions on Joe Biden, Donald Trump, Alex Jones, Black Lives Matter. So much and so fast that we could hardly get a word in edgewise.

There is a bit of a shortcut to Peponi, through Saadani National Park. This park sits on the coast, and you can drive through it or take the longer road around. A national park on the coast, complete with wildlife, appealed to me. Even though we’d incur park fees to transit, we decided to bite the bullet and give it a look. And it’d get us off the hectic, busy roads and into the back country. Grey rain laden clouds loomed as we made the right turn onto a dirt track towards the park.

Rain looked certain, so we went into 4×4 and dropped our tire pressures, hoping that the rain didn’t make the roads impassable. At the gate we asked hopefully if there was some reduced fee for transit, knowing there probably wasn’t. 

There wasn’t, and relieved of $118 USD, we were into the park. This stung, and we started to regret our decision. It just sort of ruins things when you can’t decouple the expense from the experience, and on this gloomy day it was hard to not think about it. Our own fault I suppose. We could have gone around. On the other hand, we had an opportunity to get a glimpse at a rarely visited park.

Saadani was a bit of a disappointment. To be fair we didn’t give it a lot of effort as we wanted to get to Peponi before it got to late. We did see giraffe, bushbuck, impalas and reedbuck. We stopped by the public campsite in the park, which is just back from the beach. It looked like it was being lived in by somebody, with trash in a pile in the back and laundry hung up outside the ablutions. There were a few little shade huts to camp at with a view of the beach, but frankly I think I’d be pretty annoyed if we had paid to camp here. Do not recommend. 

Peponi

Onward north, we checked out of the park and in not long came to the Pagani river. There is a small town on the north bank and a ferry that crosses the narrow channel. We paid for passage, 5000 TSH for the vehicle and 2000 (?) for a passenger. I guess the driver is included with the vehicle? Fortunately for us the ferry was leaving in just a few minutes. We drove on and shortly thereafter made the 5 minute trip across. 

Peponi is on the beaches north of Pagani. We drove through huge fields of spiky blue green plants that at first we mistook for agave. That seemed out of place here in Tanzania, and in fact we were driving through a huge sisal plantation. 

Arriving at Peponi was a long sought goal, and it felt good to arrive. We got a beach front campsite with shade. With a sea breeze blowing and palm fronds swaying overhead (beware of falling coconuts), it felt great. Peponi is a pleasant beachside camp with a few bungalows, a beach bar and lounge zone and a restaurant set back in the trees. It did have a feel of a place whose heyday might have passed a few years back, but we were comfortable. 

Next door is a place called Capricorn, with more upmarket bungalows and a really excellent restaurant. It’s run by a Kenyan born Indian couple who spent 30 years living in Los Angeles.  We had a nice time chatting with them about California, and we were able to order chips and guacamole, a true rarity in Africa.

We whiled away the days walking on the beach, reading and swimming. You can blame any delay of blog posts on Ken Follet’s Never. 

The beach here is very flat, and when the tide goes out, it leaves huge tide flats. When it comes back in, the water is as warm as bath water, not very appealing. We found swimming in the morning to be the most pleasant.

Just south of Peponi is a village with a substantial fishing fleet sailing outrigger canoes. We tend to call these dhows, but of course each craft has differences, for different work and capabilities. These sailing outrigger canoes with their triangular lateen rigs are called ngalawas. 

The early hours are the my favorite in Africa. The pre dawn air is cool and less humid, and all is quiet. I get up and make coffee and tip toe down to the beach. With towering thunderheads on the horizon, I saw dozens of ngalawas and dhows setting sail and heading out to fish for the day. Working sail is a fascination of mine, and to see it alive here in 2021 is amazing. I see a few reliable two stroke Yamahas on a few vessels. I suppose the locals see this as progress, but I will be sad when all these boats have little Yamahas on the back chugging away.

This leg of the journey had a different feel than what we have done so far. Less wilderness, but I feel we are doing some proper traveling, meeting people, staying in some off the beaten track places and generally having a good look around.

The Nitty Gritty

Kisolanza – Songea: 402km, 7h 21m – Seems we usually average around 55-60 kph on a trip including stops. So faster when driving, but with traffic, police stops, lunch stop, etc, don’t expect to do much better than this in Tanzania. Paul from Mbeya drives like a maniac and he says the best he can do is 75kph. 

Kisolanza has an incredible farmstall, don’t forget to stock up before you leave. Coffee, cheese, meat, veggies. 

Heritage, courtyard camping, in Songea was 50,000 TSH to camp in the courtyard, overpriced in our opinion. We were tired and didn’t try to negotiate, I suspect you could get that down a bit. Mens ablutions were functional but smelled awful. Jenny was the only female here, and she kindly let me share her bathroom, much nicer. Combined ablution score…2/5?

Songea to Lindi – 605km, 10h 00m – A long but relatively pleasant and stress free drive. We stayed at Makuti Bay (aka “Raymond’s”). 50,000 TSH to stay in the safari tent. You can order food here, but order ahead of time or expect a long wait. Super nice beach place, Raymond is great. Ablutions are simple but functional and clean, but the water ran out in the morning, 2.5/5 with improvement on the horizon.

Lindi to Kilwa Dreams – 194km, 3h 5m – An easy drive. Fuel available on the way, numerous roadside stalls for fruit and vegetables. The road is in pretty good shape, traffic typical, meaning busses and some trucks with not a lot of private vehicles. 

Kilwa Beach Lodge camping was very pleasant. They have shade shelters built for four campsites and a central one close to the beach. Since we were the only campers they had us at that one. Ablutions were simple but spotless, 3/5. Restaurant was very good, staff were super nice. I would recommend this place. Swimming was not so great because the tidal range and shallow beach. We heard in town there is a better beach for swimming that works at all tides. I forget the price to camp here, but something like $10pppn.

The ruins were an interesting stop. It was nice to do something that wasn’twildlife viewing. Southern and Eastern Africa do not have many architectural sites from the past and it was nice to visit these. I wouldn’t say they were top on our list of attractions, but coupled with the boat trip and the walk through the village it was well worthwhile. It’s hard to say how far out of your way you might go to visit here. Generally we find that anything designated as a UNESCO site makes for a good stop.

Kilwa – Bagamoyo – 387km, 10h 37m I sort of can’t believe it took this long. We did stop at the mall for quite a long time, we also had lunch there. Dar traffic was more or less as expected, an ordeal. 

Travelers Lodge Bagamoyo Campsite – It’s really just the lawn between the chalets. The grounds are beautifully kept with wonderful trees, all very pleasant, but it isn’t a designated campsite. Just a place you can camp. No fires. We were given keys to a chalet for a toilet and shower, but I think that was just because they were working on the normal ablutions. Camping was 30,000 TSH pppn.

Has beach access to a nice beach. They have a restaurant, and there are others nearby, but we cooked our own food.

Bagamoyo to Peponi via Saadani NP – 171km, 5h 47m AND $118 in park fees. A good route that is not really worth the cost in our opinion. 

Peponi is cheap, $8 pppn. There are two campsites closest to the beach that get the most breeze and are still in the shade. Campsite “K” is the best. The other sites are okay, but it was fairly full for the holiday and felt a little cramped, though not bad. 

Ablutions are not all that great here. They are the same ablutions for day visitors, campers and restaurant visitors and are just over taxed, combined with being in need of some maintenance. Functional enough though. 1.5/5? Maybe 2/5. The owners next door at Capricorn said that the Peponi owners hadn’t been around for a few years and it showed, even though the woman who appeared to be in charge was very efficient and professional. I would still recommend Peponi, but know their website sets higher expectations than might be appropriate. 

December 11th – 16th, 2021

Kisolanza was a campsite that was easy to be in, but we left anyway, knowing that the next few nights would be much more wild and interesting, but also without the well thought out amenities that we’d had the last two nights.

A small side story. We had a wonderful chat with Nikki, the owner of Kisolanza. Conversation varied widely, and after learning we were from America, she lamented that though she so loved traveling in the US, she wasn’t able to return. “Why is that?” We asked. She responded that it was because of 9/11. It turns out that the 9/11 bombers and/or their associates were either from, or had spent some time in Iringa, the regional hub just north of here. This meant that it was very difficult, or impossible in her words, to get a tourist visa if you were from the area. She went on to say that right after 9/11, when nobody really knew what was going on, her whole campsite and all the chalets were booked up by mysterious Americans. They later revealed themselves to be FBI and CIA. They spent about month living there while conducting investigations in the area. 

That tale aside, we had an unhurried morning of packing up, topping off water and settling our tab. Then we hit the road. Note, this is the location of the borehole in the not so famous “Jenny Pumps Water” video, though sadly that borehole has been decommissioned.

The Tan-Zam highway was pleasantly quiet at our eight o’clock start, certainly the most pleasant highway driving in Tanzania to date. The road continued to have wide shoulders and climbing lanes, making things all very civilized. Except of course the busses, they were still apparently trying to kill everyone with their reckless driving, but at least they stayed true to form.

I forgot to mention in my last post that on the way past Mafinga, the town just before Kisolanza, Jenny was driving and was waved to the shoulder by the police. She pulled onto the shoulder, and a policeman came over, beaming a big smile at us and announcing, “You have been speeding!” 

She had been so carefully trying not to speed, but with going in and out of 50 kph zones all the time, some of the signs missing, it is easy to lose track. She apologized, and he was all very friendly. He said that he had a photo of us doing 67 kph in a 50 zone, and that the fine was 30,000 TSH. But because he was such a nice guy, he could let us off for less money but with no receipt. 

Jenny said, “No, that’s okay, we’ll pay the fine and get the receipt.” He was incredulous. Thinking we weren’t getting that it would cost us more to pay the proper fine, he explained it again. We understood and held our ground, that we would pay the proper fine with the receipt. He curtly said, “Okay, you can go, no fine.” And off we went.

We’re convinced this was a scam. If he did actually have a photo from the radar gun, which they frequently do have, I don’t think he would have let us off.

Our steady progress munched through the kilometers, and in short order we arrived at Iringa. Iringa is one of Tanzania’s larger towns (a city perhaps?), bustling but also fairly organized. We made a quick dip into town to get a few supplies and then were off towards Ruaha. 

We wound our way through the hilly outskirts of the city and onto the R7. This started as good condition tarmac, but in not too long switched to gravel. A few villages pass by, but there is quite a bit of open land and empty road, and it feels like we are heading deeper into the wild, which I suppose we were. 

Jenny and I have been discussing how we feel more relaxed as we get further out in the bush and into the parks, like we can finally exhale. Some travelers may savor the hectic energy of African cities or be unperturbed by the noisy crowds at roadside bus stops and markets, but we find it draining. Not that it isn’t fascinating and an engaging part of being here, and some of the people we interact with are really interesting, intelligent and courteous people. Still the whole exercise saps my energy. 

At home I wouldn’t describe myself as an outdoor addict. In the US you won’t find Jenny and me backpacking or scaling peaks or even camping more than a few times a year. But in Africa we can’t seem to get enough. Part of this is because we are fascinated by the biodiversity, the ecosystems, the animals, and the terrain of these wilderness areas. However we’re also noticing that particularly up here in the hustle and bustle of East Africa, the parks are also where we can take a break from the intensity of the highways and the cities. We’re still reflecting on understanding this, but just a thought.

As the villages and farms fade away, the road gets progressively more corrugated. Parts of it rival the famed horror of the Serengeti-Ngorongoro Road, which I despise, only this is narrower. There are smooth ridges outside the corrugations, but just outside of that is soft sand, so it takes focused driving to stay in the sweet spot. We swapped drivers just before it got really tricky. Jenny was getting the worst of it, but of course she kept us on track.

Eventually the road forks, but both branches reach the park. Taking the right fork, as suggested by everyone, took us into the Wilderness Management Area (WMA), I assume similar in function to the GMAs in countries further south. We started seeing more birdlife, hornbills in particular, and not long after a lot of elephant tracks crossing the road.

Baobabs were dotted around among otherwise fairly dry scrub forest, and game trails crisscrossed the road, heightening our anticipation. After what seemed like a very long approach road, we arrived at the gate.

Into the Park

Ruaha’s entrance is very organized, a pleasant difference compared to Katavi. There are toilets, a small shop that sells mostly snacks and soda, and a large park office to check people in and out of the parks. There are also quite a few nice informational signs around about the Ruaha ecosystem, seasons, wildlife, etc.

The rangers at the entrance were friendly and happily checked us into the park. We paid our fees to stay for three nights, but this time, to spare our wallets a bit, we stuck with the public campsites. After getting our permit the ranger asked, “Do you like wild dogs?” Does anyone say no to that question? 

We responded that we did, and he gave us detailed directions to where a large pack was spotted about an hour ago. We asked for a map, and but they didn’t have any for sale. He pulled out a battered old copy of a tourist map and encouraged me to take a photo with my phone. This worked well, and we referenced it frequently during our stay, though it didn’t differ much from the Tracks4Africa maps on our GPS. 

This sort of thing I always find odd. With the sky high fees charged by TANAPA to be in the park, how is it possible that they don’t have any maps to offer, even at an additional charge? Certainly it’s not worth getting worked up over, just one of many tiny mysteries of traveling here.

Off we went, on the hunt for wild dogs. For some reason that I’ve forgotten, the name wild dog comes with some sort of negative connotation, so they are sometimes referred to as painted dogs or painted wolves.

In not too long we came to the large bridge that crosses the Ruaha river. The river was looking pretty modest right now, with some stagnant pools, not flowing. Unfortunately this has become a seasonal occurrence, the river running dry. Apparently there is a lot of farmland upriver, and the water gets syphoned off for irrigation schemes. In the dry season there is no water left, and the river runs dry in the park, a disaster for the wildlife here. This is another example of the complexitiesof conservation.

There is a nice picnic site here with interpretive panels, shade and picnic tables, and we got out for a quick snack. Wild dogs are usually sedentary midday, so we hoped they would not move while we had a quick lunch. Pushing on after that, the ranger’s instructions were perfect, and we came across a small bridge and stand of baobab and found 21 wild dogs lazing around in the shade. How lucky can you get, wild dogs in Ruaha National Park an hour from the gate? 

The pack consisted of some adolescents and adults that had some particularly nice coloring. We sat with them for a while, but other than occasional resettling in new shade there wasn’t much action, so we resolved to go check out our campsite and return later in the afternoon when they might be more active. 

Public Campsite No. 1 came recommended, so we headed for that. Our Swiss friend we’d met at Kisolanza was set up here. We said hello and shared the news of the wild dogs. He was quite excited and headed off in a hurry to go see them.

Campsite No. 1 is on the banks of the now mostly empty Ruaha river, set about one kilometer east of the large ranger camp. There are some dubious ablutions and several large fire rings. 

A couple of those rings were behind bushes and adjacent to the ablutions, which seemed to us an odd spot for a campsite on the river bank, but later it became clear those were there to shelter from the frequent easterly winds. Our Swiss friend had rightly set up in the best spot with a panoramic view of the riverbed. Not far from him was a huge cement fire ring, complete with little cement stools around it, under a large tree. This would have been an ideal site, but it was totally occupied by the large fire ring. We didn’t want to crowd our neighbor, so we found a spot with a view a bit further down the river bank.

There were a few grazers, impala and waterbuck in the riverbed, but otherwise all was pretty quiet game wise. That evening we made a short exploratory loop to the north, not seeing much, and then made our way back to the wild dogs.

The dogs had consolidated, and the adolescents were getting restless. A scout vehicle for a film crew was there, and he looked happy, taking pictures with his phone. We always like it when the guides and scouts are taking photos. It means you are at a good sighting.

After some time a lodge vehicle came, let their guests snap a few photos, and a few moments later they were off. Amusingly the adolescent dogs chased after the vehicle, just like a domestic dog might chase a car at home. How fascinating that this behavior is instinctual; these dogs certainly didn’t learn that behavior. 

I understand why the lodge vehicles often only stop for a few minutes and move on. They are on a schedule and also trying to tick off as many species for their clients as they can. But we find that if you are on a good animal sighting, you should stay there. It vastly increases your chances of seeing interesting animal behavior. So we patiently wait. 

This time we were rewarded with getting to see a “pep rally,” which is when wild dogs start cavorting and yipping after an afternoon of rest, getting pumped up before going on a hunt. They joined their pack mates and began running in circles, more or less, with very high pitched short yips. It didn’t last long but was wonderful to see. Then they loped down to the river, drank from the pools and vanished into the bush. What a nice start to our time here.

That night at camp we sat in the darkness of the riverbank and cooked over the fire. The gentle breeze that had cooled the air when we started dinner picked up steam, and by the time dinner was done it was whipping up sand into our eyes. It was time to retreat to the tent. Not that anyone likes getting scoured by sand, but Jenny is in particular not a big fan of gusty winds, and she was getting things wrapped up in short order.

We had the awning up to protect from an earlier brief rain shower. As I stowed it in the lashing wind, the awning flogged and fought back, full of air. This briefly transported me back to my days at sea, of furling sails in a nighttime squall, taming big bights of billowing canvas and lashing it to a spar.

Tumbling into the tent we had to zip up all the openings to keep the sand from coming in, and it became stifling hot. Jenny remarked, “The irony is we’re going to need the fan.” 

I had to get up in the middle of the night to relive myself. The wind had died, and the skies were crystal clear. Against the black canvas of the sky white pins of starlight, the southern cross and a thick milky way beamed down upon me.

The ranger at the gate had encouraged us to visit Serengeti Ndogo (small Serengeti) in the northeast, where sometimes cheetah and even pangolin are seen. A pangolin was a major safari goal of mine, so he need say no more. Unfortunately I didn’t think to ask how often they’re seen. Once a week? Once a year? Once? 

He also said that the Mwagusi river was where more game would be, so we spent the day making a large counterclockwise loop. First northeast, along the winding riverbed tracks of the mostly dry Ruaha, then to the confluence of the Mwagusi and Ruaha rivers where there is a sandy dry riverbed crossing. From there we went to Serengeti Ndogo, which proved more or less fruitless for us, a few impala though quite good bird life. 

So far we hadn’t seen a lot of wildlife. Some waterbuck, impala, a lone ostrich and warthog, but the scenery was excellent. Ruaha is the park of baobabs, and the great trees lined the roads in sections, all shapes and sizes. Tall, thin, fat, short. Some with big holes, others smooth sided with almost purple bark, others the trunk and bark looking like the melted wax of a long burnt candle. 

It turns out that baobabs actually aren’t trees, they are a form of succulent. They have no tree rings, and when cut or they have fallen, the wood is a fibrous, useless material. But alive they have a myriad of uses. Their seed pods can be eaten by animals and humans, made into medicine and all kinds of other things. Elephants like to damage the trees, whether by rubbing their tusks on them or eating the bark, I do not know. But unlike other trees, a baobab completely ringed of its bark, will continue growing just fine, and will heal the bark if left alone.

Also we often see great big hives of bees in baobabs, with big slabs of honeycomb. Amusingly elephants do not like bees, and these trees appear to be somewhat less harassed by the elephants.

Birdlife here in Ruaha was also excellent, and we saw new kinds of rollers, weavers and finches all over the place. Also many birds of prey, which often we struggle to identify. 

Wandering through this remote and rugged park was a treat. Eventually we worked west from Serengeti Ndogo, and coming to the Mwagusi we started to see more wildlife. The Mwagusi was also dry, small pools of water here and there, but the river was not running. There was enough water though to attract giraffe, zebra, kudu and impala, frequently all hanging out together. Supposedly Ruaha is the only place you can see greater and lesser kudu in the same park, but we either only saw greater kudu, or we are lousy at identifying ungulates. Probably the latter.

Tracks4Africa had most of the roads in the park, fortunate since the map from the gate was not very detailed, but still we did find numerous roads and tracks that weren’t mapped on T4A, nor obviously on the gate map. Ruaha has lots of wandering scenic tracks to explore, some likely seasonal, and we were not disappointed with our options. 

Eventually we had to admit that game wasn’t that sparse here, we had just been looking in the wrong place. Starting somewhere around the Ifuguru special campsite to about ¾ of the way to Mbagi, we found game to be quite prevalent. Maybe not thick, but consistent. Several herds of elephant, grazers in the riverbeds, and signs of buffalo in the west.

One spot had a spectacular baobab reaching out over the road. I wanted some photos, and after a good look around I got out of the car to take a few photos of the land cruiser. The park rules allow getting out of your car as long as you are 200m from any wild animals. This went all as planned, no problem. Back in the car, on we went to look for more wildlife. 

The road wraps around a small kopje (outcropping of rocks) and comes down to the river. Down in the sandy dry riverbed, was a lion walking along. We saw a lodge vehicle, and both of us paced the lion, following along on the riverbanks.

This led to much excitement for us, and we spent a while looking at this lion and looking for the rest of the pride. The lodge vehicle went back on our track from before, back under that spectacular baobab that reachesout over the road, and he turned off the track and drove off-road about 100m to the rest of the pride. Driving off-road in this park (and most parks) is illegal, but the point here is those lions were not so far from where I got out to take a photo. A good and humbling lesson for me.

We weren’t able to see them well, so we continued on for the day and planned to return later. Exploring further west we found that fewer and fewer roads were on T4A, but some of those were on Maps.me.

In this case maps.me had several seasonal river crossings marked, and sure enough they proved to be real. After a bit of adventuring around, including a short look at a honey badger padding into the underbrush, we headed back to our lions.

The pride had moved down to the riverbed to drink, and wonderfully we were able to count 13 lions. Two large males, a mating pair, six cubs and two females. All were in various states of activity, and the cubs were particularly adorable and active. 

We had an excellent view from the opposite bank. Perhaps a little far away, but we can hardly complain. Jenny was overcome with the cuteness, developing a particular affinity for the smallest cub, who had a particularly light blonde colored coat. 

The cubs were restless, alternating between nursing, wrestling each other and even mock hunting the many vultures that were about. You could almost hear the vultures thinking, “Come on lions, get on with it and kill something, we want to eat.”

A film crew was also there, and we had a nice chat with the camera man. He wasn’t filming, but waiting to see if they would hunt. The film crew has a special permit that allows them to drive off-road and stay out at night; we were so jealous. Park rules said we had to be back in camp by seven PM. 

Finally we had to go, and I had to tear Jenny away. She will happily stay until the very last moment the GPS says we can make it back to camp in time, whereas I am always worried that we’ll have to slow down, or get a puncture, or whatever, and then be late to camp. This always results in me eyeing the clock, then Jenny, and she returning the look with a not so innocent, “what??” face, until we finally turn the key and get going. 

Our second night at campsite No. 1 was less windy. We were alone tonight and shifted over to the prime spot. We have a big flashlight we use to scout around camp at night, and after dark Jenny spotted a female lion on the opposite side of the riverbank. That night we heard lions roaring all night long. Roaring lions are not hunting, so there is no danger, but to be out there at night in an unfenced campsite with lions roaring not so far away is really special and certainly heightens the senses.

The next morning we made a more or less all day game drive, with a long lunch stop. I made a video about this as an example of “a day in the life.” I will, mostly, spare you the details.

A few notes. I should mention that this morning we found the Mwagusi pride of lions before the camera team and his scout. He rolled up on us and the pride after we had been there about 40 minutes already and thanked us for finding them; they had been looking for some time. He even joked that he would give us a radio and that, “we’d be good friends,” except that this was his last day of filming in the park. Dang! How fun would it be to help scout for the film crew? 

Our discussion with the camera operator and his guide was very educational, they were very friendly. He said there are two very active prides in Ruaha. One pride resided in the Ruaha river area near the public campsite. This was the one that we had heard from camp, roaring all night. He was keen to hear the news of their activity from us, and later that night went to track them. He said this pride are specialists in hunting giraffe, and will not bother with anything smaller than a zebra.

The other active pride was on the Mwagusi river. This pride’s territory is as far east as the Mwagusi Safari Camp, extending five to eight kilometers west along the river. This intelligence, and other tidbits, is what lead to our lion focused efforts on this particular day.

Sometimes we talk to other overlanders that think that it’s not worth it to go into the parks on your own, that without a guide you’ll only find the animals if you are lucky. Perhaps there is some truth to that if you only go once or twice, but it’s a big goal for us, and we have found over and over again good success in game viewing. Frequently we’ve been able to tip off guides to good sightings, rhinos and lions and the like, for which they are always grateful.

We think that the important thing is to use all the information available to you, to use all of your senses, and to put in the time. This strategy, which although not perfect, has yielded good results for us.

Our definition of “good results” is a one interesting sighting a day. That might be a pride of lions or if one is very lucky a hunt, but it might be also something more subtle, a flock of lovebirds, a honey badger, a python, jackal cubs or who knows. It’s not just about the big cats. 

On this particular day, when the heat of the day set in and wildlife is the least active, we took it upon ourselves to make some exploratory casts further away from the prime game viewing areas. We didn’t want to waste our chance to explore this park and see the various habitats and ecosystems it had to offer. We went as far as the Mwaembe Springs, where the roads were overgrown and tsetse flies the thickest. Then looping south, to the dry Mdonya riverbed and the other public campsite, not currently in use. Notes on the campsites in the Nitty Gritty.

All along this westward range we saw lots of signs of elephant, and quite a few small herds, along with imapala here and there, and a few buffalo. Ruaha is a very large park, and initially we thought to ourselves, “hmm, not much game,” but it did seem to be persistently around, and we had to revise our initial opinions after our time in the park.

That night, after a lot of game viewing we settled into Public Campsite No. 2. One pitch at this campsite has an excellent view of the Ruaha river, and the lions were closer to this camp, so we thought we might get another night of lion roar serenade.

The evening breeze was gentle and as the heat of the day eased away we savored cold beers and chatted around the fire, discussing the days explorations. It was really nice, the sort of evening you hope for when camping in a park. Earlier the camera team had mentioned that they thought the Ruaha pride would hunt tonight, so we swept around camp and into the riverbed with our large flashlight from time to time. Sometime after dinner we saw the headlights of a vehicle coming down the road to camp.

They pulled off, lights illuminating a clearing behind us. The binoculars showed us this was the film vehicle, with their coveted nighttime and off-road permit. If they were here, it meant the pride must be moving towards us, so we heightened our vigilance and were ready to retreat to the tent if need be. 

Not that we think of ourselves as adrenaline junkies, but we think this sort of camping in the wilderness is really fantastic, where we feel like we’re part of the environment (food chain?), not just looking in at it from afar.

Sometime around this same time period two substantially sized spiders made a quick pass through camp. I think these were some type of camel spider (whatever you do, do not google “camel spider” in a google image search), similar to the red romans that we have frequently seen in Botswana. I hate these things. They don’t have webs, but instead quickly scuttle around on the ground at the edge of the light hoping to stumble upon other insects. 

After the spiders went off to who knows where, a sizable scorpion also came into camp. Jenny really doesn’t like scorpions. I’m not a big fan either, but for whatever reason this particular arthropod doesn’t give me the heebie-jeebies like other insects do. Our previous experience with scorpions is that they mostly stay sort of in one spot, and as long as that spot isn’t in your camp, then you’re good to go. This one was bigger, and clearly played by different rules. 

He seemed to settle next to our kitchen area, and we decided this wouldn’t do. If I was more of a man of the bush, I’m sure I’d just stomp on it, but one can’t quite shake that feeling that, “if I miss, is its tail long enough that it can it sting me?” Jenny bravely squashes red romans for me if they are harassing us, so this one was on me.

I got the shovel, and after missing several times and managing to get the scorpion very agitated, I finally did the deed and then pitched him into the bushes. We have a UV light to scan for scorpions (they fluoresce brightly under UV light) and found several more scorpions around the perimeter of camp. These however were behaving, their little claws poking out of holes in the ground, and if you stepped near, they retreated underground. Much nicer.

The camera vehicle had left by now. And the scorpion situation was under control, so I did another sweep with the big flashlight. Lo, what do I see, but four powerful lionesses walking purposefully along the riverbed. Not towards us, and they paid no heed to the light. We watched in awe as the powerful animals patrolled across our view. Eventually they went up the opposite bank and out of view. We called it a night after that, no lions roaring this night. They were hunting.

We planned to leave the park this morning and drive back to Kisolanza, to prepare for the long road south to the coast. In the morning we hoped to find our lionesses from the night before, but had no luck. We still had a beautiful a game drive along the Ruaha river, as far east as the Mwagusi confluence. 

Park permits are issued for 24 hours from entry, meaning we had to be out of the park around noon. Not wanting to push it we made our way for the gate. After checking out one of the rangers had us fill out a detailed customer satisfaction survey for Tanzanian National Parks Authority, TANAPA. 

It was a lengthy survey, and in it we were incredulous to see TANAPA asking, “Would you pay more to visit this park?” Tanzania already has the highest park fees of any park in Africa, excepting highly specialized activities like gorilla trekking in Rwanda.

The Tanzanian parks are excellent. They have good wildlife. The topography, ecosystems and scenery, in our opinion, are more visually stunning that in Botswana or Zambia, though it is a close race. But the wide open vistas of the Serengeti, the kopjes and the plains and the flat top acacias, the baobabs of Ruaha, these cannot been seen in the countries further south. Does that mean they are “worth” more? In our opinion they have leveraged this too much, they are just too darn expensive. 

We are lucky that visiting these places is something we can afford, though it’s a splurge. If TANAPA keeps rising prices, they will price out all independent travelers and all of the middle class, and soon safari will just be the realm of the wealthy, which in East Africa it almost is already. 

All the parks in eastern and southern Africa have different rates for locals as opposed to international travelers. This makes sense to me. Certainly I would prefer somewhat lower fees, but there is no way any but the most wealthy Tanzanians would ever see their own wonderful wild places without the lower price offered to their citizens. 

We have pleasantly seen a lot more diversity in the parks in our recent travels. We talked to one lodge manager who generalized his experience, that the Africans that grew up in the bush or in the villages, that might have witnessed independence movements, they don’t care for the wilderness. But their children, who have grown up in towns and cities and in the new Africa of today, they want to see the wilderness. And those that are educated and have careers and are old enough to afford visiting these places are doing so more and more. I can think of no better way to ensure the wildlife preservation for the future than local support, and it makes it feel less like just a white man’s playground. 

Anyway, we filled out the survey and answered, “no” to all the “would you pay more money?” questions. Notes on park fees in the Nitty Gritty.

Then it was the drive back to Kisolanza. I was curious about the other road into the park, the more western route, so we took that. It’s about the same distance, but reportedly has some villages and camps and lodges for those that want to stay outside the park.

Taking this route we found the road to be heavily corrugated and generally miserable to drive. True, the villages and camps outside the park lie on this leg. But really, if you are going to pay all the money to visit the park, to us it makes no sense to stay outside and miss the prime game viewing hours in the early morning and the end of the day; time you’d have to spend driving to and from the gate. The prime game viewing areas in Ruaha are not at all near the entrance.

Eventually we made it to the tar and to Iringa. We stopped to pick up some supplies in town and then made our way south on the Tan-Zam highway, having an uneventful drive to The Old Farmhouse at Kisolanza Campsite.

Arriving at our campsite we noted a land cruiser similar to ours parked at the adjacent chalet. They came over, said hello and asked, “Are you by chance Andrew?” It turned out he had heard about our trip online, and a while back we had connected and had been swapping notes on WhatsApp. What a small world.

Generously they invited us for dinner in the outside dining area of their chalet. We really enjoyed the evening. Listening to their travel tales, they had had a heck of a time getting up here. Punctures, getting covid and border trouble, all kinds of stories. It happened that they were in the liquor industry, and these stories were exchanged over many drinks, beers and some suspect whiskey that had been smuggled into Tanzania in large soda bottles.

The next morning I felt a little worse for wear from the festivities the night before. I am slowly learning that in Africa one has to beware of the danger from late middle-aged white men; they always give you too much to drink!

The Nitty Gritty

Kisolanza – Ruaha via Iringa: 238 km

Kisolanza – Iringa: 55km, 1h 6m

Iringa – Ruaha Gate: 106km, 2h 35m 

The Old Farmhouse at Kisolanza 

The campsite is very comfortable, most pitches set in the shade of trees. Some sites have thatched shelters and power, some do not. Most, but not all, have fire rings. The altitude is fairly high here, something like 1,600m if I recall, so the temperature is very pleasant and coolish in the evening. 

Ablutions are “eco-loos”, as proprietor Nikki called them, which were perfectly made, maintained and cleaned long drop toilets with no odor whatsoever. There are also hot water showers, hot water from a donkey boiler. There is a dish washing area as well. Ablutions 4.5/5, though 5/5 for function.

They had a place to fill water, which we drank without treating with no ill effects.

They have a restaurant with a set menu. Theyused to have a wonderfully atmospheric restaurant, built in traditional local construction, mud walls and a thatched roof, but sadly there was some sort of insect invasion and they are in the process of rebuilding it. We had an excellent three course dinner, for which they set a beautiful table for us, like a nice restaurant. They do breakfast as well, though we make our own.

Wood was available at 4000 TSH bundle (exchange rate is 2300:1USD)

Camping is 23,000 TSH pppn

Dinner, 35,000 TSH/$15 USD pp

Importantly they also have a farmstall and coffee shop, down towards the bottom of the road. This very polished shop is what appears to be a refurbished workshop. In the large open area, previously a service bay, there are tables to sit at and it’s all nicely decorated. At the end there is a working vehicle lift, though disguised by the decorations, and they said that when the farmstall is closed on Mondays they still use it to service cars with. 

The farmstall has produce, eggs, whole frozen chickens, frozen meat and some other odds and ends. It is not particularly cheap, but high quality and you could do very well stocking up here. The coffee was whole bean, but they were kind enough to grind it in a hand grinder for me. 

Iringa – There is a large central vegetable market with everything you can think of that is locally grown. Across the street is an unassuming little shop called “Moclaud Mini Super” that has all kinds of good stuff. Coffee, cheese, spirits, snacks and other hard to find items. 

There is another little shop called “J Banobi Mini Supermarket” that is pretty well stocked, bonus for being on a relatively calm side street. Both of these are on iOverlander. 

Ruaha National Park

It costs $555.40 USD for us to be in the park for 72 hours and camp at public campsites. That is why I think that TANAPA is already extracting enough from us. 

The breakdown is:

$30 USD pppd entry (24 hour period)

$30 pppn camping fee, public campsite (special campsites are $50 pppn) 

$40 pd vehicle fee. I should note that officially the price for a vehicle over 2000kgs (such as ours) is actually an astounding $150 pd. I am told this fee was designed to discourage Kenyan tour operators from crossing over from Kenya and taking Tanzanian business, and this has been an effective deterrent. Self drivers are merely caught in the crossfire, or so I’m told anyway. 

On top of all of this is an 18% VAT. 

Katavi fees are the same, though we splurged for the special campsites at Katavi. Current TANAPA fees for all their parks are here:

Ruaha Campsites

Public Campsites: Tanzania doesn’t encourage independent travel, whether deliberately or not I don’t know. To offer you an example, take the campsite names. 

There are signs for public campsite No. 1 inside the park, but at the gate they only know this site as “Tembo”, not by a number. If you ask for No. 1 they may not know what you’re talking about. This is further compounded by the well worn map they offered us to take a photo of, where Tembo/Public Camp No. 1 is labeled “Msembe”. On the other hand, the other public campsite, No. 2, is not signposted as No. 2, it’s signposted as “Kiboko”, but on the map is labeled “Msembe 2”. So not very consistent.

When we checked in they only offered us Tembo or Kiboko, but on their own map there is a third public campsite, labeled Mdonya. We went to check it out and I would not recommend it. It had newish ablutions, but they are not being cleaned or maintained and sadly the baboons and other animals have invaded. The campsite itself has no view of the Mdonya river, and though shaded there was much detritus around the camping area. I’m sure they knew this, and thus didn’t offer it, but it satisfied our curiosity to check it out. Perhaps it is seasonal, when the Mdonya river is running?

Given the choice of public campsite No. 1 or 2, I would give narrow preference to No. 2, with two qualifications. First, I would stay close to where the best wildlife is, if that is No. 1, then that would be fine with me. Second, I would stay at whichever campsite has the riverfront site available. A little bit unfortunately at No. 1 the best spot is now occupied by a humongous cement fire ring. Also at No. 1 we did have, though minor, some nighttime traffic driving to and from the large ranger village. No. 2, at the riverfront, you can convince yourself that it is a proper wild camp. The ablutions at No. 2 are unequivocally nicer.

Special Campsites – Per the park map there are the following special campsites. We checked them out to the best of our ability:

Mdonya – This is quite near the “rope bridge” (featured in my video) marked on T4A, and near the Mdonya public campsite/ PCS No. 3 that was not in use during our visit. The site is quite small, but has an excellent view of the Mdonya river. We did see quite a few elephant in this dry riverbed, and the wild dogs were a few kms east of here. 

Mbagi – Where Mbagi is marked on the park map and on T4A has either a ranger camp or permanent safari camp installed. We did not venture closer after we saw the tents. However, it seems Mbagi has been moved, as later we came across a new looking sign saying “Mbagi Special Campsite” with an arrow. This short track lead to a smallish site on the banks of the Mwagusi river, quite far west. It was under a large tree full of monkeys. It didn’t seem all that fantastic to me, but I’m sure it changes a lot seasonally. The new Mbagi Special Campsite is located at S 07°36.1155, E 034°49.1164 There was no game in the area at the time. 

Mwagusi – This campsite appears to have a lodge installed in it.

Ifuguru – Accurately marked on T4A. Nice spot under a baobab tree on the bank above the Mwagusi river. If I was going to splurge for a special campsite this would be the one. 

Mhawa – We did not visit the site.

Wildlife – Our Swiss friend said he hadn’t seen much game, and that he’d read that game retreats to a northern plateau when it is dry. In contrast, we found the game viewing to be quite good, though it did take some work. Later, back at Kisolanza, Nikki said that we’d been lucky, that if it had rained as it was supposed to the we wouldn’t have seen much. So there are two contrasting opinions. Swiss guy says if it’s dry you won’t see much, or Nikki that says if it’s wet you won’t see much. I’m guessing Nikki has the upper hand in local knowledge here, but it shows that sometimes you just have to look for yourself.

Bird App – We use the iPad app “eGuide to Birds of East Africa” (Helm Field Guides). We are not particularly good birders, and our dedication tends to go up as larger game numbers go down. In practice we have not had good experience with this app. Unlike the Sasol Guide for Southern Africa bird app, it does not have a gallery view. Meaning when you search for birds it has to be by name. Which is kind of hard if you are trying to identify an unknown bird! The Sasol guide, and I gather the Roberts guide, though we don’t have that one, allows you to scroll through images to get at least in the right neighborhood. 

On top of this we have spotted several birds that are not in this app. When we see, for example, what is unequivocally an eagle, and then scroll through all the eagles, it sort of deflates our future birding ambitions. 

As far as I know there are no other East Africa birding apps, sadly. 

Pulling away from the border post we set our sights on Sumbawanga, the regional hub in the Rukwa region. We wanted to top up supplies before heading to Lakeshore Lodge. The road isn’t even a 100 km, but it isn’t particularly fast, and it took us just over two hours. 

It is mostly dirt road, passing through villages and the small town of Matai. The border marks noticeable changes. Houses are a different style, almost universally bricks made on the spot instead of the mud huts we saw to be more common in Zambia although there were some brick houses there too. The homes have metal roofs, almost none were thatched, and some larger homes have high peaks that someone later told us was a style/fashion thing, it had no special purpose.

The road wound through low points among small mountains here and there, and we saw plots of land cultivated impossibly high up the steep flanks of the hills. Mango trees persisted, but on the whole, we saw the land was more heavily cleared here.

Somewhere after the small and surprisingly well-stocked town of Matai the road turned to tar. We stopped and aired up the tires, drawing the usual crowd of spectators, though at a shy distance. No one approached us.

Not long after, we found ourselves in Sumbawanga. Just off the main highway we parked and set to our chores, dividing and conquering. Tanzania is a mostly cash country, so first step was to pull out a large stack of notes from the ATM. We pulled out 1,600,000 shillings (almost $700 USD), thick wads of red 10,000 shilling notes. 10,000 shillings is the largest denomination bill, equivalent to about $4.35 USD. This was more cash than I’d normally want, but fuel is over $4 USD/gallon and has to be paid in cash. This eats into the reserves pretty quickly. 

I surreptitiously stashed most of it back in the cruiser, a good portion in our little safe. After that Jenny went off in search of the vegetable market and beer, I off to try to get SIM cards for our phones.

We reunited, both successful, and were ready to set off. Jenny had done really well at the market, and we had all kinds of good stuff, fresh peas and beans, fruit, chilis and more. Heading northwest town fades away fast, and we were driving on a pristine new tarmac road. The catch in Tanzania is that all the main roads go right through all the villages, and in each village the speed limit is 50 kph. This is enforced with police radar speed traps and unrestrained application of speed bumps. 

Even if you are willing to risk a speeding ticket, the speed bumps are innumerable and often unmarked. Worse still we found the 50 kph signs to be well in advance of the actual settlement, meaning we were slowing down for fields and trees, not people. This wouldn’t be so bad, but the villages are frequently just a few kilometers apart. This means that the wonderful new road, that should allow speeds up to 100 kph, is actually driven at mostly a bit under 50 kph, as you are always in the process of either arriving at or departing a new village.

Compounding this is the end of the 50 kph zones are frequently missing signs, so you never know whether you’re inside the 50 k zone or not. Tanzania, for who knows what reason, has decided to be sticklers about speeding (but not much else), and if you are not going under 50 kph by the second your vehicles passes the 50 sign, then boom, it’s a speeding ticket for you.

We learned this the hard way in 2018 and this time studiously stuck to 50 kph each of the many times we crossed the signs. 

This whole rigamarole of speed humps and passing through so many villages makes the distance seem much longer than it is, but it is still easy driving. Eventually we finally arrived at the small town of Namanyere, where we turned off the tar. 

The road starts dropping down the escarpment and quickly enters the Lwafi Game Reserve. The internet tells me it’s a hunting reserve. The TAWA (The Tanzania Wildlife Authority) website says that activities include “tourism, hunting, beekeeping and fishing.” I am skeptical that a lot of people come for beekeeping. TAWA also claims there are Pukuand elephants here, supposedly larger than those in other reserves, as well as leopard, lion, zebra, hippo and buffalo and a possibility of chimpanzees. A chimp nest was found in 2014. I am always a little saddened by hunting areas, but then I remember that the chief threat to wildlife over anything else is habitat loss, so if an area is preserved by hunting, perhaps it’s better than being turned into to farm land.

We saw no spoor of any animals, but the forest was beautiful, and we wound our way down towards the lake through a series of steep turns. Like most dirt roads in Tanzania, this one is heavily cambered and not too wide. 

Not long into this road another vehicle came speeding our direction, and we each scooted over a little onto the steep edge of the camber to whiz by each other with not much room to spare. This maneuver is a little hair raising and takes some getting used to. No matter how far you move over, the other vehicle will still only pass you within inches, the oncoming driver feeling that if you have made room, then they do not have to. This all works well enough, except that the verges are sometimes softer and you can feel the vehicle losing grip.

The road flattens out past the reserve and passes through a few villages. It is warmer, a little drier. We make the turn off for Lakeshore, and rolling through their welcoming gates feel like we can finally exhale, the long sought goal of Lakeshore Lodge achieved.

Lakeshore Lodge

We visited here in 2018 after I read about it in Stan Weakly’s excellent Slow Donkey blog. The Lodge is owned by Chris and Louise, a South African couple who have spent the last 20 years here, having built the lodge from scratch. Chris and Louise live on site, and their hard work and attention to detail can be seen in every corner.

We had WhatsApp’d ahead to let them know we were coming, and had been assigned campsite No. 1, one of four large sites. Our campsite was enormous and could’ve easily accommodated a large group. The site is on hard packed sand under three huge mango trees, each tree making a spot where you could park a vehicle or two.

The site is gently sloped, but with a little moving around we found a flat spot that would also give us some sun during the day for our solar panels. Since we’d be here for several days without driving, thus no alternator charging, we had to make sure we’d get some sun to keep the battery topped up and fridge cold.

There is a water tap at the site and a picnic table. It looks out onto the lawn behind the lodge restaurant, but not much view of the lake. Not far away are the ablutions. 

Ablution report: First class, 5/5, the best we’ve had on the trip. There are wonderful showers that are not only practical but also stylishly appointed, mirrors (unheard of), good drainage, a place to put your things, private, ticking all the boxes and more. Toilets were equally nice, and outside in the shade of another mango are a couple sinks with mirrors, and two more sinks for washing dishes. The dishwashing station is key and is a feature I wish more American campsites would adopt, being rare back home. 

We got settled into our spot, had a shower and headed down to the lodge. We knew that today was going be a long one, so we decided to treat ourselves to a meal at the restaurant. We had booked this by WhatsApp. Many of these remote restaurants you need to book ahead as sometimes they don’t have the food onsite, or some ingredients might be frozen and need time to thaw. Here we were only asked if we had dietary requirements, the rest of the menu was fixed. We find this nice, that we’re released from having to guess what is good on the menu and they just serve us whatever is going.

Tonight’s meal was a house made coconut lentil soup, fish with a herbed tomato relish on rice, followed by a dessert of some sort of some ice cream brownie. Everything was delicious; what a far cry from the camping we have being doing recently. We retired full and relaxed.

The next morning I woke to the thump of mangos falling out of our resident mango tree, a gentle thwack into the sand around us. The air smelled of ripe fruit, and birds and a single vervet monkey were feasting on the fruit. A few of them were intact and ripe, and we harvested and rinsed off a couple mangos for breakfast. How idyllic can you get? 

Each day faded into the next. Much coffee drank, swimming in the lake and generally lounging about. We spoiled ourselves with pink gin cocktails for sundowners and had breakfast and dinner at the lodge again. Most luxurious was getting laundry done.  

There were a few other guests, nice to not be the only ones for a change. One was a south African family bravely traveling with three young boys, on a big Africa safari before they emigrated to the US. Another was a German couple spending three months traveling Africa only on public transport. They had caught a pikipki (motorcycle) to get the last few kilometers to Lakeshore.

The lodge has impressive grounds and facilities, not just camping. There are more budget priced bandas on one side of the restaurant, and high end lakeside chalets on the other side. They have several boats for different activities, scuba diving, sunset cruises, even overnight trips up to Mahale National Park. Kayaks are also available, and Chris has even built a small six-hole golf course in the back. 

We were particularly lazy and did not partake in any activities other than swimming in the lake and hanging out in the lodge on slow afternoons. There was wifi in the restaurant, and I typed away on the blog, drinking a big pot of french press coffee. Actually, really it was just me that was particularly lazy. Jenny mustered the energy to get back on the wagon and went jogging and did calisthenics in camp, followed by swims to cool off in the lake. 

The last two rainy seasons have been bountiful, so much so that the lake level has risen to its highest level in a hundred years, so we are told. Lake Tanganyika has only one outlet, and it cannot release the water fast enough. This has resulted in Lakeshore Lodge losing much of the beach that used to lie in front of the restaurant and chalets. The lake level is so high that the docks they have built are underwater, and in fact, two of the high-end chalets have been completely flooded. 

Chris and Louise saw the lake level rising and mostly disassembled those two chalets to save the materials. We empathized with this threat to all of the work they put in, but they were sanguine about the whole thing. Louise noted that whole villages have been flooded and displaced along the lake and that they could handle losing two chalets. She has plans of building back new ones up on stilts and rattled off all the improvements she wanted to make to the new units. 

They have also been working a lot with the community, including working on a fish farming effort to stem some of the overfishing that is happening in the lake. We were later told that they also managed to weather covid better than most, not laying off any staff or reducing wages. Quite an amazing feat given the tremendous hit to tourism numbers due to covid. How they managed that I have no idea.

We had bought some fresh beans in the market in Sumbawanga, but we weren’t sure how to cook them. Asking around, we struck up a cordial relationship with one of the staff, Notti (spelling?). He was enthusiastic that we were trying the local foods and gave Jenny some pointers on how to cook them, even coming up to the campsite to check on our progress. To Jenny’s relief, he approved of our final result.

After five nights we decided it was time to tear ourselves away from Lakeshore Lodge, lest we become part of the scenery. We now had a little over three weeks to make it to Arusha, where we planned to meet friends right after Christmas.

Originally we wanted to spend this time seeing Ruaha National Park, Nyerere National Park (formerly Selous Game Reserve) and the ruins at Kilwa on the coast. In talking to Chris though he advised skipping Nyerere for now. There is a lot of black cotton soil there, and they had recent rains. Also there is a large hydroelectric project in progress there, and Chris thought that the roads would be a mess from all the construction traffic. 

This re-juggled our priorities a bit. Katavi National Park is just north of here, and even though we have been there before, this was a chance to see it in another season. We decided to go up to Katavi, then double back to Ruaha and from there head onward to the coast. Chris was also enthusiastic about the southern route to the coast via Songea and Lindi, instead of the usual route continuing on the Tan-Zam highway towards Dar. This would have the additional benefit of getting us out of the thick truck traffic that inhabits that road. Chris gave us the contact info for a friend that drives this southern road monthly. He’d be able to advise us on the route.

With this rough plan made we got an early-ish start and headed off to Katavi. It is the same route up to the tar road, back up the escarpment. We spent a little time in Namanyere, getting fuel and a bit of fruit, but pickings were slim in the market.

Then it’s back onto the beautiful tar road, the T9, full of speed bumps and extensive 50 kph zones. At the village of Chisi the road forks, and we had to decide between staying on the main road and entering Katavi at the Sitalike gate near Lake Katavi in the NW part of the park, or heading on the more easterly fork towards the Ikuu area.

We only planned two nights in the park and decided to focus on the Ikuu area, so we headed off to the east. This road is good tar, dropping down a steep pass and onto flat lands, all scenic with relatively few villages. At the village of Kibaoni the road goes to gravel; it was quite corrugated and harsh driving. Soon we saw a sign, “Entering Katavi National Park,” though this portion of the park is more of a transit road and game isn’t often seen.

The sign warns that you can transit this road without paying as long as you don’t stop for photos. Along the way we did see giraffe and impala. Further along we started approaching the Ikuu river, the prime wildlife zone in this part of the park. Louise had told us that there was a new ranger station at Ikuu and that you could pay there, negating the need to go all the way to Sitalike, as we did in 2018. 

There was a nice new looking sign, “Ikuu Gate” and “New Ranger Post,” directing us down a side road. We were impressed. When we visited in 2018, checking in at the gate, it almost seemed like visitors were a surprise; it was all pretty disorganized. This seemed like a big improvement. 

But it was not to be. After the prescribed distance on the sign we found no gate, no ranger post, and we were lost. We did find the airstrip, and doubling back on a different road, we bushwhacked our way around a tree fallen across the track that looked like it might lead to the “New Ranger Post.” It did, though the new ranger post wasn’t looking all that new.

A ranger came out to the car, and we asked to check into the park and said we wanted to camp. This caused some consternation, he replied that the “accountant” was not here and that we should come back tomorrow, but that we could game drive and camp. We would just pay tomorrow. He asked us to pick a time we wanted to meet the accountant, to check in, and he would relay the message.

Settling on noon tomorrow, he noted our number plate and we left with his blessing to camp in the park, with instructions to come to the airstrip the next day to pay for our permit. In retrospect we should have got his name, so if we were stopped in the park without a permit, we could direct anyone to him. 

This sort of casual arrangement seemed a little odd, especially since fines for being in the park without authorization are high, but we were hardly going to be mistaken for poachers, and we had tried to pay.

Katavi is unique in Tanzanian National Parks, or maybe any National Park in Africa, in that if you pay for a special camping permit, you can select your own campsite and camp anywhere in the park. Authorized wild camping in a national park, fantastic. We had made clear that we wanted to do this when we talked to the ranger, and he consented, making clear that we knew this was priced at the higher “special campsite” price. He asked vaguely where we were going to camp, and we replied, “near the river,” and he was satisfied with that.

The problem with this freedom is we spent almost as much time scoping potential sites as we did game viewing. We thought this was great fun, and we noted potential spots on our GPS as we drove around. 

So far we had seen no one else in the park, normally we would ask for some suggestion of where game might be concentrated. Instead we divined some sort of exploratory path along the north bank, then along the south, all west of the bridge. We thought this would give us good game and a good chance of finding a nice campsite. This would allow us all day the next day to explore towards Lake Chada, east of the bridge that bisects this part of the park. 

The Ikuu river did not disappoint, the scenery is really beautiful. You can’t help but feel you are in some sort of lost world, with tall palms flanking a winding river full of hippos and crocodiles, acacias and tamarind trees all about. 

Chris had told us that the park had done prescribed burning of the brush a few months earlier, and this meant that fresh shoots of technicolor green grass carpeted the forest floor. This was complimented by crystal-clear blue skies punctuated with brilliant white cumulous clouds. The whole scene was stunning. 

We noticed that the sky was so clear here, so much clearer than our whole trip. There is fairly low population density in the area outside the park, and maybe more people are cooking on gas instead of charcoal? That along with the rains made the skies stunning with excellent visibility. 

Game was plentiful, there was a huge tower of giraffes, a lone elephant patrolling the river bank, herds of impala, some waterbuck, warthog, crocodiles and Katavi’s specialty, a lot of hippos. Birdlife was also excellent, with woodland kingfishers being in particular abundance, their wings looking like bright blue little waistcoats.  

Somewhere along our search for campsite and wildlife, a park vehicle came up to us. After establishing that it was us, that we were in the park without a permit, he instructed us to follow him to the airstrip, and he would check us in right now.

It wasn’t clear if we were in trouble or not, but off we went following him. This included driving across the seasonal river crossing. It’s always fun when you need to do a water crossing just to get a permit to the park. We also weren’t sure if we were in trouble. Or Jenny posited that maybe the ranger that let us in was in trouble. 

We arrived at the airstrip, where there is a small building that has the computer for issuing permits for the park. All the Tanzanian parks have switched to a digital system, and there was quite an impressive wall of Victron electrical equipment, inverters and batteries and the like, to power it all. 

This ranger, some one higher up (the “accountant?”) was taking quite a long time to issue the permit and apologized for the inconvenience, which was nice to hear. The whole thing was a little odd. It was 1600, prime wildlife viewing time, and given the cost of staying in this park, I felt like we could have been perfectly within our rights to be put out by this. On the other hand, we came to Katavi because it is a little more off the beaten track, a little more wild than the regular parks. So I can hardly complain that things are not “off the beaten path” in the right way, when we are the ones who sought out this out-of-the-way place.

Finally the permit was issued, right during a tremendous down pour. Fortunately it passed just as he finished and we were good to go. We headed off, back across the river, with a notion to camp somewhere with a westward view of the plains so we could have a nice sunset.

After a bunch of hemming and hawing we settled on a spot that had a nice view of the wetlands that feed the Ikuu river. The plains were huge, and off in the distance we could see buffalo, topi (kongoni?) and a huge amount of waterfowl. 

It felt fantastic to be bush camping, back in a park with wildlife around. We are of course spoiled, but it had been a few weeks since Nsobe camp in Bangweulu and we had missed it. 

We had a nice campfire going, and after dinner the rain came and drove us into bed. At least it was well timed. We planned an early game drive the next day. That night we heard the distant whoop of hyenas and I think the sawing call of a leopard, though I’m not sure. A guide said that two had been seen in the area, so it seemed likely.

The next day we were up early, and we made an all day game drive. We saw another vehicle that turned out to be a scout vehicle for a film crew that was working in the park. He said they’d seen lions on the east side of the bridge the day before, so we went off in that vicinity to search.

We spent the whole day driving around, scouting for a new campsite and looking for those lions. We had no luck on the lions, but the game viewing was otherwise good. We saw a lot of elephant, including very young ones, near lake Chada, and a very large herd of buffalo in the distance.

In 2018 the road to the east side of the lake was washed out, but this time we were able to access it. We saw a hippo kill with hyenas on it, but no lions. The plains to the east of lake Chad were wonderful, with a fair amount of game present and generally great views. We drove this area too late in the day, and given more time, I would have explored further. 

For this night we settled on a spot right by the river, but with a high bank so that it was not where animals come and go. A small pod of hippos occupied a spot just down river from us, and we settled into camp with their wheezes and honks serenading us. 

Later, right at sunset, a huge flock of hawdedaw ibis settled in the trees near us for the night, making a great racket. Vervet monkeys also watched us closely, but they were not habituated to humans and didn’t make any mischief like their more familiar brethren. 

While not exactly relaxing, the harsh call of the ibis and cackling of guinea fowl lulled us to sleep. There were nighttime thundershowers again, though not too strong, and later that night we heard lions roaring. 

Katavi is a good example of why we prefer to stay inside the parks. Even at night the bush experience is not finished, all the noises and visitors and weather combine to make the whole experience; it’s not just driving around in a car looking at elephants.

In the morning we made a hasty game drive looking for the lions we’d heard the night before, but after a couple hours we had to make our exit. At the least we planned to drive to Sumbawanga today, and if we made good enough time we’d get the vehicle serviced in the afternoon.

To Mbeya

We were making excellent time southward and after a little number crunching figured we might push onto Mbeya. Sumbawanga was just going to be a logistics stop and would result in some awkward camping in a hotel parking lot. Why not push on to Mbeya if we could make it and then have an extra day in our schedule?

The drive to Mbeya is long and not particularly interesting. We started listening to an audiobook (Spillover, by David Quammen, highly recommended) and ticked off the kilometers. The road is in good shape all the way to the border town of Tunduma. Turn right and it was back to Zambia. We turned left, onto the same Great North Road of our earlier travels, though now dubbed the Tan-Zam highway here in Tanzania. 

This makes the main route between Tanzania and Zambia chock full of truck traffic. The quality of the tarmac deteriorates considerably, but we trundled along just fine. All the while we studiously obeyed all the numerous 50 kph zones as this road is rife with radar speed traps. 

Finally we rolled into Mbeya, road weary, and went to meet Paul.

Chris and Louise had put us in touch with Paul. He’s an expat who lives in Mbeya and would advise us on the southern route to the coast. He also has a butchery as a side business and is a reliable place to buy quality meat; it is not all that easy to find that sort of thing here. We got in touch with him via WhatsApp to ask about where to stay, and he insisted we stay with him.

On the way we stopped at the Azra Provisions Market to stock up on a few things. While we were there, another mzungu walked in and after greeting the shopkeeper, who he clearly knew well, he turned to us and said, “You must be Jenny.” Not a question, just a statement. 

This was Paul. He is what our friends would call “The king of town,” and he certainly seemed to know everyone. He joked easily with all the shop keepers, a family. A women in a full hijab walked in, and he was joking with her too. She was laughing, and it was nice to see his cross cultural charisma. 

Paul scooped us up and showed us Mbeya and really took care of us. Being a bachelor, with his girlfriend was out of town, he made us a three course dinner. First course, his own cured ham. Second course, peppered beef fillet. Third course, horse sausage. Thats it. No, I lie, there was a side of a lot of beer. The horse sausage was as terrible as you’d think.

We stayed at Pauls for two nights, sleeping in a bed for the first time in two months. It turned out it was Tanzania’s Independence day the next day, and all the workshops were closed, so no vehicle service was possible. 

Instead Paul took it upon himself to show us the sights of Mbeya. We were put into his little Rav4 and zipped all over the place, him cursing at traffic and us hungover and wide eyed as we blazed around blind corners and zipped past busses and trucks. We went south of town, on a winding road through the lush hills leading to Malawi. One stop was his friend’s avocado farm. Mbeya is a coffee growing region, and while we stared out at a stunning hillside panorama from the farm house, they treated us to the best cup of coffee I’d had in ages. It turns out that they roast their owns beans on site.

After that they offered a tour of the “pack shed” and where they make the avocado oil. The pack shed was full of more avocados than I’ve ever seen, huge heaping piles all over the place. Apparently they had done a trial run at making avocado oil, and it was a success. An Italian company impressed with the product had ordered so much more avocado oil, “green gold” they call it, that they needed to process 50 tons of avocados a day for the next few months to meet their order.

Inside an unassuming building we were shown a huge sophisticated machine that makes avocado oil. A gleaming stainless steel contraption crushes and centrifuges these huge piles of avocados to produce extra virgin avocado oil. 

Thats a lotta avocados.

The whole thing was really impressive. And I kept thinking how amazing it was that down this unassuming bumpy dirt road was a highly sophisticated machine, a huge operation underway. What other operations where down those other dirt roads? 

Paul sped us all the way to the shores of Lake Malawi, his Rav4 weaving through traffic and rattling hard over all the pot holes and speed bumps but miraculously holding together. After a slow lakeside lunch on the way back we had a look at God’s Bridge, a little known local tourist attraction. 

We finished the day with a delectable chicken tandoori cooked right on the side of the road. We were exhausted by our day of sightseeing. The next day we hoped Toyota would be able to service our car in short order and we’d be on our way north. Paul was fantastic, but we weren’t sure we could take another night of imbibing at Paul’s pace.

We had bumped into the service manager for Toyota the first night we were in Mbeya, and this got us first in line for an appointment. They did a basic service and checked out a small oil leak for us. Paul was not content to leave us to wait; instead he whisked us up to World’s View, an incredible viewpoint above town. At over 3000 meters high it had a spectacular view of this part of the rift valley. 

When the car was done, we said our goodbyes to Paul. He was incredibly generous, and it was really fantastic for him to put us up, to hear his stories and insights into Mbeya, Tanzania and to get the grand tour around town. Thanks Paul!

We settled back into the familiarity of the land cruiser, even two days sleeping in a bed and being in another car had felt a little strange. The road leaving Mbeya north is lousy, tar rutted by overloaded trucks, traffic thick and terrible. Sometimes it seems the drivers have no interest in preserving their own lives. The risks some were taking do not make for fun driving. We just hang back, give plenty of room and go slow.

However somewhere along the way, maybe halfway to the T6 junction, the road turns into the best road in Tanzania. Or the best one we’ve driven anyway. Its wide shoulders give a place for the slow motorcycles and bicycles to be, and climbing lanes discourage the riskiest of overtaking maneuvers. Really, it’s a pleasure to drive, or as much of a pleasure as it’s going to be on a main thoroughfare in Tanzania anyway.

This brought us to the wonderful refuge of the Old Farmhouse at Kisolanza. This is a long established campsite in the southern highlands. They also have a restaurant, farm shop, coffee shop, chalets and, an actual farm.

The campsite has everything we wanted, a cool pitch in the shade, power, a fire ring, clean ablutions. We decided to stay two days and relax a bit to charge up before heading to Ruaha National Park. 

The first night there was one other self driver, a Swiss man in a Namibian registered land cruiser similar to ours. He was headed to Ruaha a day ahead of us. 

The Nitty Gritty: 

Kasesya to Sumbawanga – 2h 3m, 97 km

Sumbawanga Deets:

SIM cards. I randomly selected Vodacom as the network to get. I don’t know if it has the best network, but no troubles in our travels so far. A SIM has to be registered to your ID in Tanzania, so not anyone can sell you a new line. If they sell you a SIM and don’t get your fingerprint and passport info then it is not a legitimate line. 

A SIM was 5000 TSH, ($2.17 US). The guy had a fingerprint scanner that plugged into his phone via USB for registering. They also took my photo, and scanned my passport. He said I’d have to wait 10 minutes for it to register in the system, but in just a couple minutes it was good to go. I presented Jenny’s passport, to get her a SIM as well, and he said she had to be here, but she was off shopping. Hmm. I asked if I could get a second SIM on my passport, and put it in her phone? Yes, no problem. I don’t know why he didn’t volunteer this, but apparently you can have up to five lines registered in your name legally.

We purchased 10,000 shilling in scratch cards to top up the air time. Using the weekly bundles of internet I got 1.5 GB for 3000 shillings. This seemed a good balance of value to us. We use mostly WhatsApp, so you don’t need to get minutes for calling. I use Skype to make calls to non-WhatsApp numbers if needed, and Jenny did buy some calling minutes for local numbers for pretty cheap.  

A few important notes about getting a SIM card. First, all networks have a mobile money payment system. Vodacom’s is called Mpesa in Tanzania, airtel’s is airtel money, etc. When you get your SIM registered you’ll get a flood of SMS messages in Swahili, mostly advertisements for different bundles. I deleted them, but one of those messages has your introductory Mpesa PIN number, which is critical if you want to use the Mpesa system. Not essential for travel here, but handy. You can go to one of the small “Wakala” booths in any village and give them any amount of money, could be just a 1000 shillings or it could be a million, and they will get their phone and add the same amount to your Mpesa account via your phone number. Voila, now you have your own Mpesa funds to zap to whomever needs them, including many government services can be paid via Mpesa.

To recover your deleted PIN, like me, you can theoretically go through a convoluted series of button presses and verifications in the menu system, but I could never get it to work. I went to an official Vodacom store and they reset it for me in short order.

Second, all messages and menus are in Swahili. You can ask whoever you get your sim from to change the language to English. Some messages are still in Swahili, but the menus for getting additional bundles, data, etc, will be in English. 

Lastly, when you get your first data package you’ll get a choice to “allow data use without bundle”, where they charge you by MB at a high rate, or “don’t allow use without bundle”. I recommend the latter. That way if you have surplus air time it won’t get eaten up rapidly.

We buy extra scratch cards (aka “voucher”) to have credit available whenever. Alternatively you can get any Wakala to add airtime via their phone. Shit, look at how much I’ve written about phones? Stupid, but they are ubiquitous here and traveling without them is much more difficult. 

Banks – Different banks have different ATM withdrawal limits. We used NMB, and they allow multiple withdrawals of 400,000. We’ve never tried more than two. Some banks only allow 200,000.

Mechanic – Chris from Lakeshore Lodge takes his vehicles to Nastory, marked on iOverlander. We were going to go there but changed our plans, so I have no first hand account. Chris did have an issue he couldn’t figure out and ended up having to take his bakkie to Mbeya Toyota for something complex.

Butcher – Chris reccommended Safi Meats in Sumbawanga for a good, if a bit limited, butcher. For more selection or better quality find Paul’s place or Azra provisions in Mbeya

Mbeya

Butcher – Ask Chris and Louise for Paul’s number to buy eggs, meat, coffee and avocado oil from in Mbeya. 

Azra Provisions in Mbeya is a small shop with everything you need, from paper towels to good whiskey. There is no large supermarket in Sumbawanga or Mbeya. 

Toyota Shop – The Mbeya Toyota used to have a poor reputation (Stan – perhaps this is the same shop you went to?), but Toyota headquarters in Dar took notice and sent down a new manager to sort it out. This new manager, Manoj, is a real pro and now everything is running smoothly. As a mark of confidence, Chris from Lakeshore had a more complicated problem with one of his bakkies and he drove it all the way here to get it sorted out.

Namanyere has an ATM, fuel, and limited road side produce and dukas (a small shop) with odds and ends. 

Katavi National Park

Stan – we looked for your campsite near the old Ikuu ranger post and west of the hippo pool, as near as we could discern it. However it seems that the road heading out there no longer exists, though we could see a spot that seemed like a prime location in that vicinity. We decided it was a bit too much bundu bashing to get there. 

Special Campsites – The ranger that checked us in confirmed again that we were allowed to camp anywhere in the park, though with the qualification that we should not get too far off the road, to limit ecological damage. I suggested within 50 meters of the road and he was very happy with that, I suspect you could push that further, within reason. The ranger did have to select a named special campsite in a drop down menu on his computer, even though he said we could go wherever we liked. There were seven sites (if I recall correctly) on his list, and I asked for a map of them, but he didn’t have one. It would be interesting to learn where those seven special campsites are.

Katavi still impressed us, even though predators were elusive. Later in Ruaha we talked to a camera man from the same film crew that was working in Katavi. He said we’d missed wild dogs by a day, and that it was true that you had to be lucky to see predators in Katavi. Interestingly he also said that the lions there will climb trees, unusual for lions, but only at certain times of year. He had spent a month and a half in Katavi filming, what an experience that must be.

There is much more to write about Katavi, but I am running out of time to post. Short version, this park deserves more time.

I will post some notes on Tanzanian park fees in the next post. Spoiler alert – they are really expensive. Whether it’s worth it, that is up to you.

Traffic is hectic.  For example, the only stoplight in town is merely a suggestion of traffic flow, but not rule, so at the stoplight it’s a miraculous mash of trucks, safari vehicles and motorcycles endlessly heading for collision, but then somehow missing each other.  Usually.

And there are just enough tourists for their to be hawkers pedaling their wares on the street.

If you’re foolish enough (us) to stray from your hotel, taxi or guide then they descend upon you with the same chorus we have encountered all across Africa.  Never deviating from the script, it goes like this,

“Hello, how are you?”

We respond, “Good, how are you?”

“Good.  Where are you from?”

“America.  California.”

“Ah, California!  Good!  My name is Joseph (or whomever).  What is your name?”

“I’m Andrew, this is Jenny”.

“Very nice to meet you.  I would like to show you my art (or t-shirts, or tour brochure, or bracelets, or hats, etc)”.

“No, thank you, we’re not buying anything.”

“That is okay.  I will just show you.”

And so on.

I must say that they are very good at getting you into a not unpleasant conversation, but unfortunately it is always the same conversation heading in the same direction, the sale, and it takes a while to get there.  Usually they’re happy to walk with you during this, so that is something.  But enough of traffic and pestering touts, it’s time to escape to the open road.

We made a stop at Shoppers, the big supermarket on the way out of town.  It’s the first supermarket we’ve seen in a while, so we went a little overboard on provisioning and left feeling well stocked but also with depleted funds.  If you can keep yourself away from the convenience of the supermarkets and stick to the open marketplaces food is quite cheap, but inside those gleaming doors the prices are similar or even higher than they are at home for anything that is imported.  Which is most of it.

Tarangire National Park, just over a 100km from Arusha, was our destination.  We made the easy drive on a great road in under two hours.  The last 7km or so off the A104 is good gravel, but with speed bumps ever couple hundred meters, so not too fast right at the end.

For Jenny this stop is something of a homecoming, her first safari destination.  She visited with her mother and sister on their first big family trip more than 15 years ago.  She was excited to see the park again, and to see after our recent explorations if it still would seem as amazing as those years ago, or if it was just because they hadn’t been on safari anywhere else before.  Tarangire didn’t disappoint and I wouldn’t hesitate to recommend it.

Entrance fees here are less than the Serengeti, thank goodness, but still not cheap.  Again they didn’t ask and the Cruiser was assessed at the sub 2000kg weight, whew.  Entrance fees were, I think, $60/pppd, camping $30/pppd for the public campsite No. 1 and vehicle fee was $40/pd.  We decided to keep it simple here and stick with the public campsites.

Sitting in the shadow of the giants of the Serengeti and Ngorongoro, Tarangire doesn’t get as much credit as the bigger parks, and I also hadn’t given it a whole lot of thought.  Well low expectations proved to be good and we had a great visit.  We arrived in the early afternoon and after checking in we rolled right into a game drive.

Tarangire has most of the big game (no rhinos) of the other parks, but is truly famous for it’s elephants.  Interestingly Serengeti, though massively larger, has roughly the same number of elephants as the much smaller Tarnagire.  A good portion of Tarangire’s elephant population is migratory, so not all the elephants are in the park all the time and they migrate into the surrounding game management and conservation areas during the wet season and then back into the park, with the Tarangire river as the attraction, for water in the dry season.

It’s not the dry season now, so the park wasn’t at peak elephant population, but still we started seeing elephants pretty quickly after entering the park.  And the park itself has a completely different landscape to the nearby Serengeti, so it was still attractive and fresh even after our time next door.

The entrance is at the north end of the park, and the Taragire river, some 5 or 10 kilometers into the park, creates a very scenic river valley.  The terrain, excepting the slope into and out of the river valley, is flattish and rolling hills with open woodland and a large population of very wonderful baobab trees.  Driving along the game viewing trails we managed to see a few elephants grazing amongst the baobabs, really nice.  The baobabs are everywhere here, but not as old or large as the trees we camped near in Nxai Pan.

On our two night stay here we managed to squeeze in quite a lot.  Some lion sightings and a sleeping leopard right on the first game drive.  Heaps of elephants, with some very young ones charging back and forth around their mothers.  The largest tusks on an elephant I have ever seen.

A few parts of the park had massive swarms of tsetse flies.  In their excitement at our presence they hurled themselves at us with such force that we could hear constant tapping on the windows, like heavy rain, and we congratulated ourselves on having functioning air conditioning to save us from the flies.  Of course that didn’t help me when I had to get out of the car and pee, but you can’t have it all.  Any opening of a door or window is closed as soon as possible, and then followed by five or so minutes of trying to kill or let out the flights that got in the cab, while cursing their bites.  For some reason I seem to be the more attractive target, Jenny doesn’t get bit as often, and she is a better tsetse fly killer than I, so thankfully the flurry of action doesn’t last too long.

Our public campsite was pretty decent.  At first glance it’s a little eclectic, with no designated camping spots and haphazard ablutions and camp kitchen spread around.  The ablutions were clean and pretty decent though, and there were cold water showers, so all in all pretty good.  There was an eating area, four picnic tables with an ominous steel cage around them.  Eating in a steel cage while in a park seems a little odd, like who is looking at whom here?  But it is to protect you from the troops of baboons waiting to ambush and take your food.  We were spared though, for whatever reason they left camp alone this time.

There was one other self drive car there, a couple that we had met in the Serengeti with a rental.  The other guests were part of a couple budget safari groups, where they drive from park to park in their safari viewing vehicles and each guest is given a dome ground tent to set up in the public campground, then they go for game drives in the same car they arrived at the park in.  The guide staff cook in the camp kitchen and after a day or two move to the next park and repeat.   I’ve never seen this sort of tour advertised (I’m sure they are) but it seems like it might be a great affordable and low key way to see some of these parks.  On the other hand, this didn’t include a fire in the evening and also they seemed to be starting their game drives fairly late, 7:30 or 8 o’clock in the morning, so they might have been missing out on some good game viewing.

The first night we ended up sharing our fire with some of the people in the safari group and had a nice evening swapping stories by firelight.  We met an American family from the midwest that had just summited the nearby Kilimanjaro together, and a couple of Dutch women that had organized their own tour of Tanzania to see a few things not usually on the tourist trail, like visiting a hospital and going out on a real fishing boat, taking the local public transport, that sort of thing.

South to Kisolanza

After an uneventful second night in camp No. 1, camped right at the base of two baobab trees, it was time to hit the road.  We had dallied in Tanzania long enough and we needed to make tracks south.  So with a dawn start we departed, light rain falling as we checked out of the gate.

We stuck to the main road, the A104 (aka the T5) and sped south.  As is our usual routine, I drove in the morning.  There was very little traffic on the road and we made excellent time.  This portion of the Tanzanian road system also didn’t seem to have many speed bumps, so we were given a bit of relief of the constant guard one has to be on to make sure you don’t accidentally hit a speed bump unexpectedly.  Though to be fair they are usually in villages where we aren’t driving very fast anyway, but sometimes there are a few sneaky ones out of town, unmarked.

It stayed overcast with intermittent mist and we started to climb a pass south of Babati.  I hadn’t done a whole lot of route planning for the day I admit, and I had neglected to see that we had a couple passes to go over.  The road seems to be brand new though, and there was almost no one on the road, so even in the rain we easily made our way up the switchbacks and deeper into the mist.  Higher up it was raining all the time, and foggy.  I had to drive slowly anyway for the steep switchbacks, but even so I worried about a truck popping out of the fog.  On roads this steep a lot of the trucks seem to be traveling barely faster than walking speed, and even with our modest 30 or 40 kilometers and hour I didn’t want to plow into the back of one, particularly since brake lights seem to be optional on some of the commercial vehicles.

Part way through this I got stuck behind a truck going about 10 kilometers an hour.  Rain.  Fog.  Winding roads.  Waiting.  What do you do?  This is familiar territory to any driver in Africa, stuck behind a truck for who knows how long.  I couldn’t see much ahead in the fog, but after waiting and waiting I became impatient to overtake.  I hadn’t seen a truck coming the other way for a long time.  Gripped by the fatalism of the African driver, I waited for a straightish section and with a little faith and a heavy foot I overtook him with as much haste as our 1HZ engine could muster.  Done, no problems.  This sort of risk is what we see on display from a lot of the drivers on the roads here all the time, and it had started to take hold of me as well.

Overtaking on blind turns, driving with no lights, brake lights not working, all of these are part and parcel of driving here.  The truck drivers and busses in particular are far more comfortable traveling at speed on the narrow roads than anyone else, and approaching each other it often seems like they’re so close they’ll will clip their mirrors, and yet they don’t.  We saw the burnt out carcass of an overturned bus on the shoulder once past the summit of the pass.  We see glass and a mangled guard rail and a smashed shipping container on the side of the road, evidence of some grave accident not so long ago.

Later that day we smelled the strong smell of smoking brakes overworked on one of the trucks and I wonder what that driver is thinking?  Does he not know that his brakes might be close to failing, or how to engine brake?  Or does he know perfectly well, but this is the truck they’ve given him, and in spite of it’s mechanical deficiencies he knows he must drive it or risk loosing his job?   We see the overturned cab of one of the big rig trucks, smashed and caved in and know that no one could have possibly survived.  This is a continual reminder to us that the most dangerous part of this trip is not malaria or lions, or banditry or violence, but simply the daily danger of driving.  We remain vigilant and continue along.

South of Kolo Pass we drop out of the hills, the terrain flattens and the clouds and rain ease off.  This land is also covered in baobabs.  We’ve never seen so many.  They’re much less common in southern Africa and we had believed them to be sort of rare, special.  Here though they are everywhere, mostly not too big, but looking good, really nice terrain.

Continuing on we pass through the city of Dodoma.  This is a common stop for overlanders, not because there is a great place to stay but more that is a convenient distance to cover in a day.  Our early start and little traffic had delivered good progress, so we decided to push on to Iringa, the next significant city south.  I had assumed that south of Dodoma traffic would pick up, but it doesn’t much and we continue along.  There are frequent police checkpoints along the road, but mostly we are waived through, or stopped for a simple “Where did you come from, where are you going?”, then sent on our way.

In Iringa we need fuel, but we also need an ATM because none of the fuel stations take a credit card.  We see a shabby looking fuel station a block from a bank and we stop and fill up.  Fortunately the ATM is working and we’re on our way.  On the way out of town (our campsite is a bit south) we drive past numerous gleaming pristine fuel stations with ATMS in them.  This seems to be our habit, to always stop just before the really convenient place, of course.

South of Iringa the road turns to the T1, and the road fills with the traffic of heavy trucks, mostly hauling fuel from Dar Es Salaam.  The T1 is the main road from Dar and is the conduit to carry fuel, all by truck, to Southern Tanzania and Malawi.  Traffic notwithstanding, in not too long after Iringa we arrived at the Old Kisolanza Farmhouse campsite at about 4 in the afternoon.

It’s set up really nicely, with campsites in the trees, fire rings and picnic tables for most sites.  There are a few other campers there, so for once we’re not camping alone like many of the campsites we’ve visited outside the parks.

There is a restaurant here and the food is reportedly amazing so we skipped cooking tonight to try it out.  It was pretty remarkable, a 3 course meal by candlelight, delicious sautéed veggies from their own garden, an amazing but simple crushed tomato and garlic sauce for pasta and a chicken main course.  Such a contrast to camping, and it still surprises us that here in Africa this combination of bar, restaurant and campsite exists where in the states it’s unheard of.  Maybe a future business idea for home?

The next day we spent a pleasant morning swapping route notes and road conditions with a South African couple that was heading to the Serengeti, and they gave us some tips on Malawi.  It’s nice to feel we’re back on the route where there are a few others of “us” on the road, and also good to have a slow morning.

Before getting on the road for our next jump south we ask about filling our water tank.  Water is always something we have in the back of our mind, how much do we have, where will we get it next, and what kind will it be?  We have an almost 60 liter tank in the back of the cruiser, with a little spigot on a hose back by the kitchen.  A lot of people have a similar setup, with the spigot mounted under the fender or rear bumper so the spigot is always dirty, so the water is just used for cleaning and they buy bottled water for drinking.  We mounted our spigot on a strong magnet, at the end of the hose, and when we arrive at camp and open up the “kitchen” side of the canopy click the spigot on the side of the cruiser, ready for use and clean.

This of course doesn’t address if the water is potable.  We prefer to have potable water in the tank and avoid the waste and inconvenience of bottled water if we can.  We have some treatment drops to treat our water if need be, but amazingly so far we haven’t used them, wisely or not.  We have used a combination of sources.  We filled with the city water in Livingstone, which is treated but still is a bit risky for someone who isn’t local.  It was fine, but didn’t taste great.

Borehole water, which is usually regarded as safe to drink, depending on how deep and where the borehole is located, is our preference.  At times we’ve not been able to get borehole water so we’ve also put non potable water from various camp spigots in the tank, boiling it if cooking or making coffee or tea, and supplemented with big 10 liter jugs of bottled water for drinking.  This isn’t particularly efficient and we end up having to decant the big jugs into smaller bottles, and also end up just carrying too much weight.  We also always carry one or two 5 liter bottles of “emergency water” that we hide in the back and forget about, just in case we get a leak and lose our water, or it’s contaminated.  So far we haven’t needed those.

At Kisolanza the owner said that their water wasn’t potable, but that just a couple hundred meters up the dirt road there is a borehole with excellent water we can fill our tank.  We find the manual borehole pump that is ubiquitous throughout Africa, in almost every village.  Surprisingly we haven’t used one yet on the trip, the couple times we’ve managed to get borehole water before it had already been pumped to a reservoir tank with an electric pump and was just gravity fed.

We got one of our empty 10 liter jugs and start pumping.  It only takes a couple minutes of easy pumping to fill our 10 liters, and I decanted into the tank from our jug.  We left the tap open on the tank to flush out our old water, and in about 20 minutes we’ve flushed and filled our tank with water that tastes like pristine bottled water.

Delicious water loaded, we were on our way again.  Originally our destination was the Utengule Coffee Lodge, west of Mbeya.  This is a little out of our way, as our plan was to turn south onto the T10 to Malawi a bit east of Mbeya.  The Utengule Coffee Loge is on the opposite site of Mbeya, and would require braving Mbeya traffic, twice, to get to and away from there.  The South Africans we had met at Kisolanza told us about a hotel in Tukuyu, along our route on the T10, that would let you camp in their grassy courtyard for $10 dollars a night and would give you a key to a room to use the bathroom.  Good enough for us, so we made our way to the Landmark Hotel in Tukuyu.

This camping method is one of the options available to those traveling overland when there are no campsites.  Other options are to find a place to wild camp, ask a mission to camp, or to ask for a village elder’s approval to camp in or near a village.  We were trying to keep it simple, so hotel courtyard camping it was.

On our way there we encountered what seemed like endless kilometers of construction and the slow traffic that comes with this.  Some of the road was done and was impressively wide, really beautiful tarmac, but frustratingly the speed limits were still 30 or 50 kph even when there was no road crews and no villages.  We got stopped for speeding, but they generously let us off, so we kept to the slow speeds and resisted the urge to step on it and power along the beautiful roads.

By the end of this my normal patience with slow driving had eroded and I was pretty frustrated at the slow going and Jenny took over.  She had other challenges.  On the older parts of the road the road was narrower, and decent tarmac with not many potholes, but amazingly parts of the road were actually rutted.  How this happens on a paved road I don’t know, but it looks like they maybe let heavy trucks drive on it before it had completely cured, or that the road bedding underneath had settled, but instead of the pavement cracking it just flexed into the ruts.  This was a problem because the truck wheel track width is wider than the cruiser’s.  A couple times the ruts were so deep that we actually started to fishtail a bit on the road, the rear wheels sliding in and out of the paved ruts.  It was scary with all the truck traffic around and we slowed down and made it through without any further excitement. 

Turning south towards Tukuyu we started going up again, over 2000 meters elevation into beautiful green hills, farmland full of tea and banana plantations.  We arrived in Tukuyu before sunset and discovered that though one could camp in the courtyard, we couldn’t because the entrance is too small to drive a vehicle onto the grass.  I hadn’t thought of this when we heard about it from our new South African friends, who were in a ground tent.  So we tucked into the corner of the parking lot, a little odd, but no one bothered us.  That night we went to bed and it began to rain heavily, but we stayed snug and warm in the tent.  Tomorrow we’d enter Malawi, dropping from these higher elevations to the Lake Malawi level of 500 meters.  We crossed our fingers for better weather tomorrow and listened to the rain.

My alarm sounded off at the appointed time, 0530, to wake me for our day in the Crater.  The gate opens at 0600 and we have to check out of the Conservation area by roughly 1400, so to maximize our time we were trying to be there bright and early.

It was wet, cold and dark.  The campsite is at 2400m, on the rim of the crater (actually caldera, but that isn’t what everyone calls it) and is notorious for inclement conditions.  This was certainly true this morning.

Only 3° south of the equator, I donned my long underwear, wool hat, and down jacket to get up to break camp in the mist.  It was that sort of mist is wet enough to be rain, but floats in the air and permeates everything without the decency to just fall to the ground like actual rain.

Jenny and I had tried the night before to make preparations for a quick getaway.  Normally it’s just coffee, tea and go, but since a herd of buffalo chased us into the tent early last night we had a few more things to sort out.  During that time the first safari car coming to pick up some other campers blew by us on the dirt road, throwing a bunch of dust and exhaust our way, or so I thought.  It smelled awful, and I cursed him for driving too fast.  The smell didn’t clear though.  In fact it got worse, and I started to think that someone was trying to start a fire in the wet conditions and the breeze was blowing their smoke to us.  The smoke was getting trapped in an eddy of air behind the car and we were coughing and cursing and wondering what was going on.

After just a minute it dawned on me that, against all odds, that the smell could be coming from us.  It was early and I suppose I should have come to this conclusion a minute or two sooner, but I didn’t.  Not being able to think of any other source other than us we scanned the car for the source of that acrid electrical fire smell.  Fridge – okay.  Lights in the canopy – not working.  Uh oh.  I popped the hood and sure enough, flames.

Fuck.

Fortunately exposing the fire to the inclement elements extinguished it for us.  We secured everything that draws power and took stock.  It was a shorted wire against the second battery bracket.  No doubt this was a gift from the cursed Serengeti to Ngorongoro road, the gift that keeps on giving.  The plastic chafe guard and insulation were no match for those corrugations and the terrific vibrations had chaffed them through.  It appeared to have burnt and melted the wires for the lighting circuit and second battery charging circuit.

Now what to do?  It’s dark, wet, and the clock is ticking on the most expensive day of the entire trip.  Uncertain of the full extent of the damage we considered if we’d have to bag it, go to the gate and asking for a refund on our $250 crater decent fee and leaving for Arusha.  It was clear from the night before that there was a chink in our armor and we were indeed travel weary.  Though we like to think we are hearty travelers there seemed to be a limit.  It snuck up on us, the only occasional showering out of a plastic water bottle, the dirty clothes, the bush camping and wildlife encounters, the dust and the dirt and the grit and early mornings were finally catching up to us.

Tired and frustrated, we were thinking last nights hostage by buffalo situation was the last of our surprises and we were in the clear.  And now this.  Afterwards we see that it was not as bad as it seemed, but in that moment, before coffee, it was a lot to take in, all the while the clock ticking on our expensive crater visit.

Really though there wasn’t much we could do now about the wiring anyway, so we decided to make the effort for damage control and to get to the crater and enjoy it.  It took us about an hour to unhook the charging system for the spare battery, taking our time to make sure all the wires were secure and we weren’t going to drain the starting battery but accidentally leaving something hooked up.  By this time we had begun to appreciate a little bit of the humor of all our twists and turns these last few days, with our fingers crossed that there were no more surprises in store for us, we pronounced ourselves ready and got underway for the Crater.

During all this a guy came by and asked if we were the ones who had arranged to meet a guide at 0600 at the gate.  Yes, we were, but we explained that obviously we were having some car trouble, but we would be there.  He understood, no problem, and gave us instructions on where the guide would be on the side of the road.  Sure enough, our guide popped out of the mist half way along the road to the gate, ready to go.

Our guide, Bahati (luck in Swahili), was great.  A degree in tourism with numerous guide certifications for walking safaris, Ngorongoro specifically and other impressive qualifications.  Technically a guide is “free”, but you’re expected to tip him at the end of the day what you think his services are worth.  An arrangement I dislike, but Bahati turned out be great and it was good we had him with us.

We made it to the gate a bit after 7 o’clock, not bad considering the rough start.  There was a host of vehicles at the gate and we thought we were in for a wait, but they checked our paperwork right away and we were off, no problems.

The Ngorongoro Conservation Area (NCA) lies adjacent to the Serengeti National Park, but is administered by the Masai community based organization, the Ngorongoro Conservation Area Authority (NCAA).  The conservation area is huge, 8,292 square kilometers, but the star attraction, the Crater, is a small fraction of that.  Park entry fees are steep, detailed in the logistics section at the bottom.  It is an incredible place, and one of the few areas where traditional communities, the Masai, coexist with such dense amounts of wildlife.  Masai are caring for their livestock in proximity to predators as well as huge amounts of wild grazers, such as wildebeest and zebra, that also compete for grass and water resources.

The Crater is the world’s largest inactive, intact and unfilled volcanic caldera (technically a crater is formed by a meteor impact, a caldera from a volcano, but regardless the NCAA and all literature refers to this as the Ngorongoro Crater).  The crater floor is something like 260 square kilometers.  Inside the crater is an incredibly dense population of wildlife which is non migratory and supported by the crater ecosystem year round.  These animals are not trapped, there is no fence, but the surrounding landscape is not as hospitable as the crater floor, and that combined with the steep ascent required to leave the crater encourages the majority of animals to never leave, generation after generation.

There are only three roads into or out of the crater, and interestingly Bahati told us that these are in fact old elephant paths that have been turned into roads.  Elephants are not particularly good climbers, so they are deft at finding an easy grade for such ascents or descents, and thus it also makes a good route for vehicles.  We have also read that many roads in Africa are in fact old elephant “highways”, or routes favored by them that have since been turned into roads.

The Serengeti and the NCA are awash not only in animals, but also politics.  To give you just a small taste, many Masai communities were forcibly relocated from the Serengeti to the Ngorongoro area in 1959 for the formation of the Serengeti National Park.  Now again in 2009 there are new restrictions on the Masai settlement and use of the crater, to make way for greater conservation and, of course, more luxury tourism.

Bahati’s father, who was born in the crater, had an interesting observation.  Before all of the conservationists arrived there were hundreds of black rhino living on the crater floor.  After the Masai were relocated from the crater floor and the conservationists have a greater presence and authority there are now less rhino than ever before.  Of course correlation is not causation, but given that this is the perspective of some of the community you can easily see that the land use and conservation issues are complex.

If case you’re feeling bad that the Masai were displaced so that rich white people can look at lions, don’t forget that the Masai are not from the region, depending on how you look at it.  They migrated from the north in the 17th and 18th century and in the process forcibly displaced the previous residents.  If you are interested complex politics and moral conundrums you need look no further than Africa.  No doubt my very brief summary has left out a host of important nuances and details, but I hope it serves to illustrate some of the complexities.

The decent road into the crater is steep and unpaved.  There was a parade of safari vehicles slowly creeping down the road.  I put the cruiser in low range and let the engine do the work and tried to settle down from our exciting morning.  The crater was shrouded in mist and clouds, so the view was not nearly as good as the day before, but it seemed likely that it would burn off later in the morning.  Even part way down the crater decent road were were treated to wonderful views of herds of buffalo and wildebeest, with gazelle and zebra mixed in.  Further down and you can pick out jackals and a few of the 600 or so spotted hyena that live in the crater.

Once we got to the bottom the safari vehicles start to disperse on the various tracks.  The crater floor is primarily short grass plains, in contrast to the long grasses of most of the Serengeti.  This means that spotting wildlife is easy, as most of the grass is no more than 12 inches high.  Apparently the short grass plains are volcanic in nature and the soil is either too dense or too shallow for the roots of the longer grasses to take hold.

The crater floor is almost flat, but also has a salt lake, a smaller fresh water lake, springs, swamps, and forest lands.  The forest lands are primarily fever trees, also known as the yellow barked acacia, but also numerous kinds of fig and other smaller trees.

We made our way around the crater stopping for various sightings.  Of course seeing something really special is possible, predators hunting and with so many animals in close proximity interesting interactions between groups.  However really what is unique about the crater is the setting itself, a sort of wildlife Shangri-La of Africa.  Coming from the volcanic plains and the crater rim descending down to the crater floor has an almost magical feeling.  The wind eases, it gets warmer and wildlife abounds in every direction you see.

As the weather started to burn off we were treated to sun dappled views of the plains, alternate highlights and shadows of the sun and clouds picking out elephant and buffalo and others in the bright spotlight of the sun and it’s all sort of surreal.  We saw numerous lions, some with cubs.  Big tusker elephants, large herds of buffalo, wildebeest, a smattering of impala and grant’s and thompson’s gazelle, black backed jackals, but sadly no rhino sightings.

Our time nearly up we drove our way to the ascent road.  Of the three roads into the crater one is dirt, descent only, one is paved, ascent only and the last is two way, but seasonal and at your own risk.  We gather it’s a bit rough and elected for the paved ascent.  We dropped Bahati off at the ranger post and headed to the gate, hoping we’d be able to make it before 1357, when we would incur a second day of park fees.

I drove a bit quicker than I’d prefer, but no doubt slower than the professional safari guides drive, and we made it to the gate with only five minutes to spare.  The woman who checked us out didn’t seem to care at all that we’d used our one hour grace period, so we were actually in the park for almost 25 hrs, instead of 24.  Relieved and really starting to relax a bit we had a quick lunch in the parking lot at the gate.

Then it was back onto tarmac for the first time in a while.  The road is excellent quality all the way to Arusha and we savored the magic carpet feeling of sailing along smooth pavement.  We had been told it’s a 3 hr drive to Arusha, so we assumed it’d be 4 hrs for us, but for once we kept up and made it to town in 3 hrs easily without pushing at all.

After all my whining I will confirm what you have already suspected, that we are not in fact Africa Bad Asses, but in fact Africa Wimps.  A couple weeks of camping in the bush, some corrugated roads and a bit of car trouble and we’re ready to tap out (not really).  I suppose maybe we’re not quite as robust as we thought, but we’re okay with wimp status, and feel great to be making the trip and to have seen all the amazing things that Africa has offered up to us so far.  With that in mind, even though there are a few places to camp near town, this time we pulled the ripcord and made our way to a hotel.  The cruiser was due for it’s 10,000km service and we were exhausted.  It was time for a hot shower, not cooking and sleeping in.

Now allow me to introduce you to Jane and Henry.  It’s us, Jenny and Andrew.  We have found a peculiarity of native Swahili language speakers is that unless we make a specific effort to annunciate our names very clearly often they hear Jenny and Andrew as Jane and Henry.

“What is your name?”

“Hello, my name is Andrew”

“Pleased to meet you Henry!”

I’ve had this interaction many times now, and Jenny and I find it funny every time.  A similar thing happens when Jenny introduces herself, and really we must get better at making an effort at annunciating clearly.  Regardless, it’s puts a smile on our faces when it happens, so make sure if you are imagining our interactions across Tanzania and Kenya to keep in mind that often we are Henry and Jane.

This was the same when I worked in Kenya years ago, and one of our driver’s explained it to me like this:

“Yes, to us it sounds the same, Andrew and Henry, just like to you Muhammad and Mohammad sound similar but are actually quite different.”

Well, he had me there, I did struggle with all the variations of Mohammad, but fortunately they were tolerant of me blundering through Mohammad, Muhammad, Mahmoud, Mohammed, Muhammed, and so on.  You should have seen the org chart for our Somali project, a staff of 200 and half of them named some variant of Mohammed, the head of HR in Nairobi worked miracles to keep them all straight.

In Arusha we settled on the Karama Lodge just out of town, right near one of the camping options, Masai Camp.  Karama is perched on a hillside with views of Mount Meru and in the distance on a clear day the snow capped peak of Kilimanjaro.  We could just make out some snowy slopes in the clouds when we arrived.

Even then our frustrations of travel were not done, for there was a mix up with the bill and the supposed hot shower failed to materialize.  These are regular trivial trials when traveling, but we were trying to check out of the routine small challenges of African travel by getting a decent hotel, that night we went to bed tired and weary and hoping to start the next day on a new note.

And so we did.  First stop was Toyota.  I’m normally not a big fan of dealers, often overpriced, but in an unfamiliar city with no local knowledge of the good mechanic and not wanting to be delayed we figured it was best.  We asked for a 10,000km service and gave them a laundry list of questions, a rattle here, a problem there, and of course the cooked wiring.  They spent the morning inspecting the Cruiser and came up with an estimate.

I had to sit down, it was a lot.  We knew that it was going to be a lot, but wow Tanzania was turning out to be expensive country on our tour.  Of course it’s a Land Cruiser, it’s not a vehicle you just drive to church on Sundays, it’s been used and abused, and let’s face it, as a former rental it probably wasn’t babied.

The butcher’s bill is as follows:

-10,000km service, essentially oil change, fuel filter, oil filter, inspection.

-Front brake pads, resurface front brake rotors.

-New front wheel bearings.  One was going but we had them do both.

-New rear shocks.  We had suspected the left rear shock for some time, and the right one was leaking after the Serengeti-Ngorongoro road.

-Radius/stabilizer arm bushes.  Totally gone.  Another casualty of the road?  I’m sure they were finished after our recent torture, but I’m not sure they’ve ever been replaced, so this is not shocking.  Toyota says to expect approximately 80,000km out of a set.

-New steering tie rod ends and bushes.

-New bushes means alignment needed to be done.

-New air con evaporator and refrigerant gas charge – Aaaahhh!…so expensive.  I wonder if a smaller shop would have tried to repair instead of replaces this?  It was cracked where the piping comes out of the housing.  No air con in Africa has it’s limits.  It actually hasn’t been too hot, but keeping the windows down has exposed us to the ravages of tsetse flies and everything is covered in a fine dust that gets in your hair, on your clothes, and you can feel in your teeth.  I’d say yuck, but I think this is a standard day for Land Rover owners?  Ha!

-Second battery electrical repair.

-Exhaust mounting brackets were cracked and needed replacing.

The total bill came to almost $2500 USD.  Gulp.  I suppose if we were on an extended trip we might have approached it differently, maybe dong the wiring ourselves and try to look for a cheaper shop, but we didn’t have the luxury of time on this trip.  There is also of course the worry of counterfeit Toyota parts, common around here, though I’m not sure how much, if you go to another shop.  I think some of this, particularly the bushes, was probably already due and we should have done before the trip, but still it was sickening to do all at once.

Just as finally going to the doctor about a nagging issue brings a certain psychological relief, it felt good to get the Cruiser looked at by professionals and have a real once over.  We will be confident that she will continue to serve us well for some time to come.

Jenny worries about me because I constantly worry about the cruiser.  My regular job is working on a ship and I spend a lot of my time worrying about the weather, the condition of the vessel and so on, and now here we are on vacation and I have traded my ship worries for Cruiser worries.

Karama Lodge ended up not being so bad, but not exactly being the break we hoped so we traded into a hotel in town.  The cruiser took a couple days, so for the first time in a long time we find ourselves with a bit of time to catch up on emails, to read properly, to be bored.  It was magnificent.

One develops a close relationship with your vehicle when traveling overland.  It is our home in camp, our refuge at times, our transport across part of a continent.  We put all our faith in this vehicle to carry us half way across a continent and back, and each tiny detail about the car becomes familiar.  The sticky door handle, the rattling latch on the canopy, the streaks the wiper blades leave on the windscreen.  Did it take an extra second to start this morning?  Did the clutch slip a bit in first gear?  Was that rattle there before?  Every small noise and change of tone becomes significant.  Partially because we have found ourselves with a great fondness for this capable machine that carries anywhere we want to go, but also because the next new noise could be the foreshadowing of what strands us in the bush or by the side of the road.  With that in mind we are fine with spending some time to make sure all is right.  We put our faith and trust in her so she will take care of us, a bit of time and money to ensure this is not unexpected.

Oh yeah, and Toyota only accepts cash, so there’s that.  ATMs in Tanzania, if you’re lucky, will disperse 400,000 shillings, $180 USD.  Sometimes only half that.  This is in 10,000 shilling notes, the equivalent of about $4 US dollars.  So what ensued is a ridiculous parade of us going all over town pulling out huge stacks of shillings to pay our huge Toyota bill it what is essentially $4 dollar bills. I can’t believe they don’t take a credit card, but that is the way it is, and I suppose at least there were ATMs, I’m sure in some places or not so long ago that would not be possible.  This also meant that we were wandering around Arusha with quite a lot of cash in our pockets, even though we did do this is stages, it was a little uncomfortable to be carrying that much cash around.

Eventually we stockpiled the cash and Toyota finished with the Cruiser.  After the bill was totaled you take the final invoice to a cashier cage and an old lady meticulously hand counted our big stack of bills, as tall as a pint glass.  With her approval of our payment they gave us the keys and we were off.

Driving away from the workshop the Honey Badger felt great.  The alignment was done and the wheel was straight for the first time (I know, we should have done it before), the steering felt sharp, or sharp for a land cruiser anyway, and the brakes snappy.  We took her off road a few days later and the suspension was also improved with the new shocks, so we were feeling new confidence in the already capable car.

Setting forth from Arusha we will be starting on a new portion of the trip.  Headed south, most, but not all, of the bush time is behind us.  We’ll be focusing on getting back to where Jenny and I are most comfortable, the water.  Lake Malawi, the coast of Mozambique, and still a few visits to some parks along the way.

Our original plan had been to head to the coast of Tanzania and work south, to the little visited parts of south east Tanzania.  I was keen on seeing Kilwa, an out of the way UNESCO site and old trading port.  The traditional fishing and trading vessels are also interesting to me and we like being on the coast.  From there we planned to take the Ruvuma ferry across into Northern Mozambique, to go to Quirimbas National Park, to Pemba and Ille de Mozambique.

Mozambique had different plans for us.  The Sate department has issued a no go warning for US citizens in the northern province due to security issues.  Some group attacking local citizens, beheadings and burning some villages, displaced people.  We had the luck of running into the British Vice Counsel for Tanzania in the Serengeti and we briefly discussed our plans with her.  She reasonably advised not going, pointing out that even though it’s unlikely that tourists would be targeted, the inevitable police and military road blocks this sort of situation creates and the potential for curfews and other restrictions on movement could be a pain, at the very least.  Good point.

It is off to Malawi instead.  We have spent more time up here in the northern part of our trip than originally planned, and in order to avoid a constant brisk pace for the whole return trip we decided to make some big jumps south so we could relax a bit when we were closer to South Africa.  With that in mind the plan is to spend a couple days in Tarangire National Park and then beeline it for Malawi.

After our four night stay we had our fill of hot showers and lounging in Arusha, we were feeling refreshed and ready to get back on the road.  The Land Cruiser is it’s own kind of refuge for us, the hum of the tires on the road and the grumble of the diesel engine have become comforting.  It reminds me of being on watch at sea, where even at sedate speeds the hours and days add up, and in time one can cross an ocean.  It’s time to point the Cruiser south, watch Africa pass by and make our way across countries.

Logistical Notes:

NCAA fees – Entry is for a 24 hour period from whenever you sign in.  In USD we paid just under 600 dollars including taxes and an extra 1.5% for using a Visa card.  I think the breakdown for this was 50/pp park entry, 40 vehicle entry fee, 30/pp camping (public campsite), 250 crater decent fee, 18% VAT + 1.5% credit card surcharge.  As stated above, that gets you 24 hours, if you over stay or want to stay longer you’d have to pay everything, except the crater decent fee, again.  Also the 40 dollars for vehicle entry was again for under 2000kgs, he just didn’t ask when I said we were self driving.  You get one hour grace period on your 24 hrs.  We paid by Visa at the Naabi Hill Gate, very easy.

NCAA Guide Requirement – Per NCAA rules a guide is required to enter the crater.  However it did seem there was some wiggle room on this and it’s not clear if they would refuse you at the gate.  One exception to this is if you don’t have seating, they said they wouldn’t turn someone away for that.  The ranger we talked to said they’d had problems with self drivers breaking the rules and thus the requirement for a guide, but who knows if this is the whole story.  That said, I would hope that any self drivers that do make it to the crater without a guide be on their best behavior, to reflect positively on future self drivers.

Drive time from Lodware gate to Arusha is just a bit under 3 hrs, depending on traffic.

Toyota Arusha did very generously accommodate our schedule with no appointment and we felt gave us great service.  The branch manager also gave us a discount on most of the parts and labor, except of course the most expensive part.  I suspect this is because he didn’t have it in stock and had to buy it from someone else in town.  He also asked if we had fueled in Seronera, as he said the fuel quality there is poor.  We did, and he said it’s a good thing we have a 4.2 and not a 200 Land Cruiser or a Pajero, as then “you would have trouble.”  Whatever that means.  Anyway, perhaps if you do plan of fueling in Seronera make sure you have a spare fuel filter handy, just in case.

We managed to get our CADAC gas bottles filled at Manji’s gas, right on the Main Street near the clock tower, adjacent to the Puma station.  You have to pay full price for whatever size bottle it is, regardless of whether it’s partially full or not, and wait till the following morning.   According to a comment on iOverlander you can get it the same day if you first go to the retail location that I mention and then drive the bottles yourself to the depot out of town.  Cost for two 3kg bottles was 35,000 shillings.  Not cheap, but cheaper than buying new bottles.

Western Corridor Serengeti

The Terrible Road