Back on the road following a short break in Mombasa, another five hour drive, this time with a different driver (Ally), and another group - three children, two adults - with the kids on their first trip into the wilds of Africa. Our destination for the night was Ngutuni Lodge, in the eastern part of the massive Tsavo National Park - 21,000 square kilometres in total (divided into east and west sections). While this includes towns and villages, and the actual nature 'reserve' areas, this is still a huge territory occupying a notable part of Kenya.
Ngutuni is a relatively new lodge, and while dressed in a similar style to the previous lodges, is unusual in that it appears more alone - Samburu sat alongside a tribal village, Treetops was a short drive up from Outspan and there are villages just down the hill, and Nakuru overlooked the lake around which there were many settlements. Ngutuni is one small group of buildings, every room with a balcony view of the waterhole, and that's it. The road in is a dirt track amongst animal grounds, twisty and winding, ending at this seemingly lonely resort in the wilderness. Four double storey sleeping quarters flank an adorable high roofed terrace, with lounging chairs and dining space.
The game drives here were slower paced and more relaxing; while Tsavo contains a massive amount of wildlife, it's also big enough to ensure they're spaced out. We observed a lioness basking on a rock from a fair distance; we glimpsed, and I mean glimpsed, our only sighting of leopard - a solitary teenage male, who quickly disappeared into the brush. The scenery, lush and overgrown, prevented much more than this - other than a herd of elephants, who stormed across our vision to a mudbath near the roadside. The whole family tree were in attendance, and we watched for around 20 minutes as they soaked up the water and covered themselves in the trademark Tsavo red dust, protecting them from the heat of the day. Babies slipped and slid under their elders, unable to maintain a footing in the slopping water. It was again quite humbling to observe this as part of a routine - like clockwork, each elephant followed the same cleansing procedure, and suddenly they were done, and away into the hills. So much of wildlife observation, particularly with predators, can be focussed around the hunt and the kill, when there is a enormous amount of joy to be had when you are able to consider the simple things.
And such complex things. At dinner that night, relishing the only table-service meal we'd had, and hence the only non-reheated and exquisitely spiced food, we had the kindest waiter and wonderful wine; we chatted for hours about what we could be doing at this point, back in Britain, in the speed-culture of 'getting things done' and of personal gain; sat at our first table-for-two for weeks, without the natter of others, and able to really relax over a four-hour meal… thirty elephants stormed towards us out of the darkness.
Frightened by something elsewhere in the park, the group sped towards the waterhole, and used the illumination of our lights as safety. They were not convinced, though: each and every one stocked up on water with a frantic passion, diving around the pool, very apparently confused and panicked, before disappearing off out of our vision into the night. In the course of half an hour, we had banished our table and leapt to the balcony, Marie nearly destroying her wine glass in the realisation, and had somehow ended up in luxurious wicker chairs, armed with glasses of port, utterly gripped by the spectacle unfolding. Would the predator appear? Would the group stick together, would they continue to use the light as their weapon?
Eventually, they disappeared into the twilight. Just as we had started to become adapted, just as we had started to assimilate into this wonderland, another dream had appeared. Life in the jungle is war, and we had witnessed an incredible insurrection.