Striding softly into the pink dawn in a remote corner of Africa, we feel like the only people alive on a sleeping continent — but we are not alone. Up on a verge, just feet away, a young bull elephant is chomping on a bush, ears faintly flapping but thankfully more interested in breakfast than a handful of random humans.
“We just need to stay out of his personal space,” whispers our guide and host, armed with a rifle he has never had to use, as we tiptoe softly away across the red earth toward the river bed.
We are getting up close and personal with the animals in Ruaha National Park, one of Tanzania’s most remote reserves. The main event is a walking safari, which in a place so rich in wildlife means following in the footprints of zebra, big cats and hyenas as well as pachyderms.
We walk among baboons chattering crossly to each other — “They’re complaining about the leopards,” our guide reveals — and young impalas skipping across our path. Nearby, giraffes lollop lazily across our eyeline munching on acacia trees. Who knew the mothers form creches to keep their babies safe while they forage, or that the markings of each is as unique as a human fingerprint?
Observing the babies with their childminder, examining the spiky acacia thorns which evolve longer and longer to keep pace with their predators’ ever-extending tongues, and learning how these beautiful flat-top trees have learned to communicate danger to each other are the kind of quiet pleasures there’s rarely time for on game drives where the priority is spotting and photographing big beasts.
Not that we miss that particular pleasure either: our morning bush walks and post-lunch siestas are followed by late afternoon game drives which bring their own rewards. The sight of two lionesses feasting on a hippo carcass in the river is a grim but spectacular sight straight out of The Lion King.
Dozens of black and white marabou storks line the bank, third in line behind the lions and the crocodile hovering close in the water. “The vultures won’t arrive until everyone here has had their fill — and then the hyenas will come to clean the bones,” explains our guide.
The difference in Ruaha is that we are among less than a dozen spectators, all with a ringside view, instead of sitting in a queue of Jeeps waiting their turn for a peek as can happen in more accessible parks where visitors flock en masse to a feeding frenzy.
When we return next day, the lionesses are under a tree, slumbering post-feast with the king of the pride; amazingly we are able to linger for many minutes, close enough to see the rising breath of these huge golden cats quite indifferent to a handful of gawpers.
Ruaha is harder to reach than more northerly safari destinations; there are no direct flights to the capital, Dar Es Salaam, where it’s necessary to spend the night before rising in the dark for a dawn flight by light aircraft two hours into the bush.
But the rewards are outstanding; we spot our first giraffe from the airstrip and within 15 minutes are stopping in order to allow a herd of zebra to cross the road.
We fret only briefly about the lack of elephants in a park which has one of the biggest communities in Africa before a herd surprises us as we stop for a sundowner.
They wander, unconcerned, just below us along the dry river bed, digging deep with their trunks to extract water — as our driver sets out wine bottles and the makings of a G&T on a gingham tablecloth laid across the bonnet of our open-sided vehicle.
It’s not only the wildlife which should tempt visitors either. Audley Travel, our hosts, are keen to showcase Ruaha because of the quality of the lodges they feature and the excellence of their guides. Described as “first class” rather than “lavish”, it’s hard to know how our accommodation could be improved.
Ikuka is a set of 10 thatch-roofed cottages perched on a dramatic escarpment, each containing a huge bedroom, spacious bathroom and separate living room, all with one wall open to the elements and magnificent views and a private, full-width viewing deck.
It’s not till we return after sundown that we discover each bedroom is actually a tent big enough to contain a wardrobe and chairs as well as the king-size bed.
We are instructed to peek out for any signs of wildlife before unzipping to step across into the bathroom at night; nothing is spotted, but some guests report hearing elephants chomping through trees just below our clifftop abode.
While it doesn’t have the swimming pool or running water offered by Ikuka, Kichaka, our second camp, is even more spectacular. Furniture fashioned on site from a 19th century dhow salvaged from Zanzibar lends a luxurious feel to the four giant tents.
The private outdoor bathrooms across a short deck are even more special, the earth loos made more luxe with wooden seats and fine artwork, the bucket showers filled fresh with water of the temperature required just before we return to camp at lunchtime and sundown.
Complete privacy means never having to draw the curtain to block out the view of primeval Africa during ablutions, and washing in a brass sink fed with water from a giant urn is a particular pleasure at daybreak.
Andrew “Moli” Molinaro, a Brit of Italian descent, and his American partner Noelle Herzog are especially congenial hosts, and meals around the exquisitely decorated table in the mess tent — following drinks round the campfire — are all the more fun when we up sticks for a fly-camping experience on the river bed.
Here our outdoor bathrooms are equally posh and private, although our tents smaller and simpler, but dinner beneath the stars in a place where lions and elephants will drink when the rains come is spectacular.
The food is excellent in both lodges, preceded by cocktails and served with good wine; Ikuka may be unique among safari lodges in producing a margarita as authentic as any in Mexico.
The observant can be well catered for with fish and/or vegetarian options if arranged in advance — in the absence of any shops, stocking up in Ruaha means a weekly round-trip of several hundred miles to gather supplies.
The walking element of the safari can also be adapted — the terrain is flat and easy but pick-ups can be arranged at any point along the route with 20 minutes’ notice.
In the hot months of autumn not everyone wants to walk till 11.30am once the temperature passes 80 degrees, although walking temperatures are ideal in the cooler months, with blankets and hot water bottles to warm up starlit dining later.
After 6am starts every day, most guests unwind with a post-safari beach break. Zanzibar, with its heady mix of African, Indian and Arabian cultures, is Tanzania’s Indian Ocean jewel — but as I walked along the pearly sands here to morning yoga, I couldn’t help regretting there was no prospect of a chance encounter with an elephant.
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