Our final safari led us into Tsavo West, to a night at Ziwani Tented Camp: a small cluster of family tents, each sheltered by a wooden roof, nestled around a large lake/marshland. In contrast to the huge distances we'd covered in previous parks, Ziwani is much more about experiencing nature in close proximity - we embarked on a late afternoon walking safari, followed by a night drive, and then a second walking safari in the morning before we departed for Mombasa. We'd been on a walking safari in South Africa before - drove for a while into the heart of the reserve before leaving the vehicle and walking on foot for 2 hours. On that walk we didn't see a thing but the experience was exhilarating and educational, and we were looking forward to repeating it. The difference here was that the walks began from our campsite - literally metres away from our tent, we wandered past the rather understated warning signs and were back in gameland again. Minutes later, a basking crocodile appeared on the banks on the river, metres from where we passed. Hippos and storks followed, with the burbling roars announcing their presence long before we spotted them.
The afternoon sun was blazing and the walk was long and challenging - considering we'd been cooped up in a minibus for 9 days, our muscles and stamina weren't used to such a rigorous workout. But it was of course worth it - groups of baboons slowly meandered out of our path, the birdlife soared all around us, and the feeling that there was always something around, that at each point in this holiday we could only physically see perhaps 10% of the animal life that existed in every scene; and even that much was far in excess of our expectations. On the way back we passed the 'landing strip', an elongated bumpy field which would challenge even seasoned pilots, finding a group of the camp staff happily playing volleyball in the setting sun.
We encountered these kind and friendly employees later on, as they moved all the tables and chairs out of the restaurant and onto the banks of the lake; candlelit while the sun set through the trees, the log fire crackling away and the wine flowing. The stars began to twinkle, and despite the odd gradient the table found itself on, and the disparity in height between table and chairs, we again had chance to reflect on the wonderful fortune that we have, to be able to visit these parts of the earth more easily and with better knowledge than before, and to be able to have permanent trust that the people, the wilderness, and the setting will be as wonderful as each time previous.
The safari that night was dark and bewildering. In contrast to the intimate, windy roads we'd been taken through in Kruger two years before, with delicately constructed forests concealing bushbabies and aardvarks, here we roared along open roads, passing herds of impala and other buck, noting the cues left by elephant and other animals on their endless travels around the park, and trying to keep up with the spotlights frantically scouring the bush for those two tell-tale glistening little eyes reflected back from the now barren black landscapes.
Our final excursion was an early morning walking safari, just as the sun broke and the moon sank, affording us our only glimpses of the mighty Mount Kilimanjaro before the haze obscured it from view. It was a majestic sight - to the east, the sun climbed slowly through the trees, to the west the twin peaks towered high above, the moon nestling between them before disappearing. Within minutes the mountain and scene had both disappeared, remaining only as another precious memory.