DAY 22: Ngorogoro Crater

 

Departure time

I thought I was having a nightmare when I heard the familiar tapping sound on the tent signalling us to rise and shine, though after Elmien opened and closed the bakkie door with enough vehemence to trigger an earthquake, I realised I was safely snuggled on Soek-soek’s rooftop and not on the mountain.  We’d been warned of the long lines of tourists entering into the crater, therefore organised for a bokkie bus to collect us from the campsite before sunrise, so with eyes still full of sleep and hair unbrushed we climbed onto the eight-seater fighting for window seats.  You’d think in an environment notorious for survival of the fittest, Ryan and I would have acquired the chairs with a view, however Izel bit and clawed her way next to the window and poor Ryan, the tallest of the crazy eight had to hunch his back and drop his neck every time he wished to look beyond the vehicle’s interior.  Excited to see real African wild animals (not like the common ones in Kruger), we began our drive to the famous natural zoo. 

 

The crater

The warnings were indeed a true story: the gate was ridden with loud Americans and hairy Germans clad in khaki hunter hats and hiking boots for an authentic African Safari.  They looked at us as if we were out of place in our short shorts and slops; nevertheless, we entered the Ngorogoro National Park excited and eager.  We viewed the crater from a lookout point above the scene, 21 by 19km in size; whist Riegardt told us an animated story of a meteor that had landed on the African landscape millions of years ago, hollowing the surface and creating the Ngorogoro crater as we recognise it today.  Only later did we realise we’d all been fooled when Elmien read facts about the crater out loud from her tourist-friendly information book, discovering the crater is in fact the result of a collapsed volcano.  Circling the flat, open bushveld, we viewed spectacular sightings of lions, elephants, a pair of cheetahs and buffalos.  We enjoyed snacks whilst watching a family of jackals playfully going about their lives and a mating herd of horny wildebeest, thereafter lunching beside a small lake dotted with lazy hippos, unaware of the birds of prey circling above us so eager for their share of steak wraps that they dive-bombed our party, forcing us to seek shelter in the vehicle.  Satisfied with our crater experience, we departed Ngorogoro National Park, waving goodbye at cheeky baboons along the way, arriving at our campsite mid afternoon.

 

Weather conditions

In the African bushveld you want nothing more than warm weather and a cool breeze blowing on your face through the top of the bokkie bus; nah, not with our luck - the day we climb into an open vehicle where an aircon isn’t necessary, we get cursed with cold weather.

 

Personal

The boys decided an afternoon nap was necessary when the ladies wanted to shop for Maasai curios.  I live in South Africa where public transport is less than satisfactory, therefore it is no wonder I’ve never caught a taxi, however, we had no choice but to hail the music-blaring, tyre screeching, speeding transport means.  Approaching the tinted-window vehicle cautiously, grateful for the silence of the radio, we studied the child-like stickers across the dashboard and steering wheel, aware of the fluffy neon dice hanging from the review mirror.  The four of us squeezed onto the backseat like chickens on an African truck whilst Ryan lounged comfortably on the spacious front seat.  The music began, first a slow-cap RnB track blaring through the vibrating speakers behind our heads, followed by doef-doef Swahili kwaito where our driver, Constantine, hooted to the beat.  He transported us to the local market that smelt of rotten carrots and bleeding fish, where we tried with best efforts to communicate in broken Swahili-English to purchase a bucket of onions and paw-paw from a smiley man as black as the night.  Safely seated in the taxi, we asked Constantine where we could find Maasai cloth and curios; he clearly misunderstood the question as he took us to a Nigerian store selling Chinese fashion, followed by a dark dusty shop of beaded jewellery.  We eventually found a market of sorts where we negotiated a ‘nice price’ for the cloth and Ryan spoke business with Constantine about some musical contraption wire thing for his Land Rover.  Boys and their toys again...