Safari So Goody

It is easy to spot the people who have just arrived on safari: they’re the ones taking pictures of impalas. Impala schmimpala. Granted, the antelope’s ability to leap vast distances and change direction in mid-air is impressive, but after a couple of days amid the plentiful gazelles, zebras and wildebeests in Tanzania’s national parks, what you really want to see are the Big Five. Scratch that: what you really want to see is a leopard.

It’s a strange thing that before you get to Africa you’re under the impression that seeing elephants, buffalo, rhino, lions and leopards (the Big Five) would be wonderful, but you will be just as happy to see hippos, giraffes, ostriches, cheetahs and hyenas. And for the first few days, that’s true. But what starts as a vague desire to tick off the animals on what was once a hunters’ list – the Big Five are said to be the most dangerous creatures in the bush – soon turns into something of an obsession. For most safari-goers, the most elusive creature - the Moby Dick of the African savannah - is the leopard. They are not particularly rare in this part of the world, but they are devilishly tricky to spot, given their preference for flaking out on the wide, flat branches of the sausage tree, perfectly camouflaged in the dappled shade. Most safari-goers spend an unfeasible amount of time looking for a twitching tail among the trees’ salami-shaped seedpods.

But try not to get too obsessed with the spotted big cat, because there is so much else to see in the national parks that make up northern Tanzania’s safari circuit. It’s an astounding part of the world. Top spots on most itineraries are the apparently limitless savannah of the Serengeti (a Masai word that means “endless plains”), the permanent groundwater forest of Lake Manyara, the elephant heaven of Tarangire and that wonder of the natural world, the Ngorongoro Crater. At more than 20km across, the crater is the world’s largest collapsed volcano, or caldera, with a resident population of all the animals you’re likely to want to see, including up to 30 black rhinos. It’s a bit of a rush, but you can visit all four parks in a week. Stay longer, and you can also include the flamingo-rich Lake Natron, climb the active Ol Doinyo Lengai volcano, and even venture up the continent’s highest peak, 5,895m Mount Kilimanjaro – a long, hard walk off-limits to children because of the altitude (with an eight-year-old in tow, that meant we didn’t even have to pretend to want to do it).

There are two distinct seasons in northern Tanzania: the lush, green wet (November-December and mid-March-May), when the Serengeti is thick with migrating herds of wildebeest and zebra; and the dusty, golden dry from June to October, when the parks buzz with safari jeeps. Without doubt, the emerald landscapes of the wet are more beautiful, and the migration unforgettable. But it can be heavy going, with the dirt tracks turned into muddy swamps, frequent downpours, the animals spread throughout the parks, and mosquitoes in plague-like proportions. So most tourists choose to visit during the dry, when the animals tend to congregate close to water sources, making them easier to find. The cool, dry weather helps keep the mosquitoes down and the only plagues are the ubiquitous dust - and the other visitors.

Dry season is high season. In Ngorongoro, every sleeping lion can attract a crowd of up to 15 jeeps. Not that you’ll care when you’re one of the gawkers and you’re upclose and personal with the king of beasts for the first time.

Being close to a lion, even a snoozing one, is an awesome sight. Our first lions in Ngorongoro were a honeymooning couple, dozing next to the road (fortuitous, since jeeps are prohibited from leaving the tracks in the national parks). “Just wait for a little while, then you’ll see some action,” advised the American in the next jeep. Sure enough, after about 10 minutes, the lioness raised her head, the lion groaned to his feet and before we knew it they were mating, unfazed by the tourists clicking away on long lens. A few growls later, it was over and the male slumped down, exhausted: they had been doing this every 15 minutes or so for seven days. Sure enough, when we passed the spot on our way out of the crater six hours later, the lions were still at it.