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Airborne safari
By KAREN STEINKE SERENGETI NATIONAL PARK, Kenya -- With a fiery orange burst of propane, the silence of the predawn Serengeti is broken. Startled, gazelles leap, and zebras gallop. Bill Ware just watches as a yellow and green balloon billows outward with the hot air from the burning propane.
Like thousands of tourists before us, my friend Jayne Bloxam and I are in search of the "big five": elephants, lions, leopards, buffaloes and rhinoceroses. But rather than seek them from ground level, we will drift over the dusty plains in a sturdy basket, armed with shiny binoculars and miles of blank videotape. Over the years, Ware says, the number of these magnificent creatures has dwindled, and they have become even harder to spot as safari camps spring up and tourist vans encroach on their habitat. Some of the animals have moved across Kenya's border with Tanzania, where even hot air balloon pilots do not go without fresh visas. Together with Ware, a British Columbia native who flies balloons for a living, and John, a Kenyan employee at the camp that hosts our balloon trip, Jayne and I share the exhilaration that only a balloon ride over the Serengeti can provide. Within seconds of liftoff, Ware points out an ostrich. But we are so far away that even with my binoculars, it appears as nothing more than a big brown dot with legs. Soon we drop back down close enough to almost count the hairs on top of one elephant's head, then rise again and watch a herd of buffaloes graze from a distance. This vertical chess game allows us to see the sun rise twice over the distant mountains. Of this little trick, Ware is quite proud. The animals seem rarely to notice us until Ware burns another shot of propane, to put more hot air into the balloon. Each time, the noise sends animals fleeing in every direction. Jayne and I snap photos of zebras, impalas, elephants, buffaloes and waterbucks. Much too soon, our balloon makes a gentle landing in the field where a planned champagne breakfast awaits us. Throughout the meal, our pilot is thrilled to share stories of previous flights, including that of a lion kill, viewed as the balloon drifted silently over the action. "I had a basket filled with Indian tourists," Ware recalls as we pack the breakfast items. "It was the most incredible sight, watching that lion kill a zebra. I could hardly speak. After we landed, the (passengers) told their friends they hadn't seen much." He pauses and shakes his head as he gets into the driver's seat of his battered Land Rover, still clearly exasperated. "I almost strangled them!" Despite the obvious paradox in which he plays a role, Ware is extremely protective of this land and its creatures against intrusion by humans. "Have you heard about Porkchop?" he asks our group. We have not. Ware relates the story: "A friend of mine stumbled upon a wounded warthog that found itself stuck in some needle bushes. I'm not sure that I agree with this," he pauses, choosing his words carefully, "but he picked the animal up and took him to the nearest camp, where they nursed him back to health. They named the little guy Porkchop, and to this day he has the run of the place." Fearing that the gravity of his message has not sunk in, Ware stops his truck in the dirt road and pauses, the Land Rover's dust settling around us. His dirty fingernails clutching the back of his seat, Ware turns toward us and adds: "He was a wild animal. Now he's a house pet. The bottom line is: That warthog was somebody's dinner. When my friend removed him from the needles, he may have saved his life, but another animal went hungry. "That's the way it works out here: Something has to die in order for something else to live. It's a basic law of nature. And I'm not sure it's our place to get into the middle of it." As if on cue, with our truck idling on the vast Serengeti, the outline of several slowly moving animals begins to take shape ahead. We sit in silence. We squint against the dust and the morning sun in an attempt to identify the creatures. Finally breaking the silence is John, our Kenyan companion. He whispers from the backseat, through a mixture of awe and fear, a single Swahili word: "simba." Collectively, we suck in our breath. A pride of female lions is making its way slowly toward us, traveling the road where we have paused. As the lions amble toward our car, seemingly oblivious to our existence, the sight of them makes us be still. Even Ware, who throughout the morning has been jovial in his role as guide and storyteller, is gripping the steering wheel. Eleven females, including a few cubs, reach our vehicle and surround us. It is doubtful that American tourists are on the menu, but their noses tell them something is here. We watch in fear and reverence as they form a fine half-circle, spread out along the honey-colored plain next to our car. Slowly, patiently, they zero in on some prey they see but we do not. It is as if we are enjoying a beautifully choreographed ballet from seats in the orchestra pit. Time seems to stop. Finally, Jayne and I remember our cameras. But the decision is made that we won't stay to watch the kill and the feeding. With the spell broken, we head toward the camp. On the way, we see a tourist van heading toward us, and we ask if Ware will alert the driver (a courtesy among drivers) of what lies ahead.
Ware shakes his head and grumbles, "Let the lions eat in peace. They'll be someone's entertainment again soon enough." We drive on. The way Ware sees it, by piloting his balloon silently above the animals of the Serengeti, and the trees and bushes in which they live, he and his guests have little effect on their existence. He looks upon the safari guide drivers in another light. Barely hiding his contempt, he says, "There are so many vans out here these days, carving paths in the grass, that it's affecting the animals. The cheetahs, for instance: They feed during the daylight. How can they hunt if they are surrounded by 20 tourist vans?" Some years back, the so-called big game hunters had stopped killing the creatures that inhabit this majestic place. How ironic that merely pursuing the animals with cameras like those hanging around our necks may eventually lead to a devastating end for this carefully balanced kingdom. As fortunate as we have been to experience the animals up close, we now feel like trespassers. This odd melange of guilt and wonder will stay with us long after we head back to camp for the remainder of our adventure tour. - Karen Steinke is a freelance writer who lives in Tierra Verde. If you goTo plan our African adventure, we first looked to the Internet for companies specializing in safari travel. We requested brochures and pored over them for ideas. Once we determined our budget and the places we wanted to see (Kenya's Serengeti, Masai Mara, Lake Nakuru, Mount Kenya, Aberdare, Nairobi, the Giraffe Manor and the Karen Blixen Museum, and Zanzibar in Tanzania), we were able to find the agency most willing to work with us on customizing our safari. Star Travel & Tours, in Nairobi, planned everything but our flights, which we booked on our own. The company's Web site is www.startravel.co.ke. The cost for the 12-day trip, including the flights, hotels, most meals, transportation fees, driver, park fees and a little shopping, came to about $3,000 for each of us. (For the sake of comparison, Wildlife Safari, an upscale tour operator, offers an 11-day trip to three wildlife sanctuaries in Kenya for $2,799. Included is round-trip air fare from New York to Nairobi, most meals, seven nights' lodging in Kenya, guides, park fees and more. For information, call toll-free 1-800-221-8118 or see the Web site, www.wildlife-safari.com. We flew from Tampa to Miami to Amsterdam, spent a day and night there, then flew to Kenya. (Each international flight was about eight hours, so take a long book!) Travelers should also consult their doctor or the local county health department about getting inoculations, which vary depending on your destination. You will also need to consult with your safari outfitter, travel agent or the embassy of the nation being visited about arranging visas. Be sure your passport is up to date.
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