Stories in Place: Bill & Debbie

(This pandemic has put a cramp in our camp, so I thought I'd start a series of short stories from our travels. You know, those kinds of stories that go around the campfire after a day of exploring, and may get repeated more than once over the years. I hope you enjoy them as much as we enjoy telling them. Pull up a camp chair and grab a beverage. Let's Story in Place together.)

The first time it happened, it was kind of funny.

"Bill! Debbie! So nice to see you again!"

A huge safari guide trotted over and embraced me in a giant bear hug, lifting me off my feet. "What are you two doing back here? I thought you were on your way to Serengeti!"

Mark and I exchanged looks of confusion. "We just got here this afternoon."

"No! Don't be kidders. Why have you come back?"

"We were in Tarangire this morning, and drove up today. We plan to see the crater tomorrow. I think you might be thinking of someone else?"

Now the confusion was on the guide's face. He shrugged his shoulders and laughed. "Well, welcome then. How are you liking Tanzania?"

That was our second day of camping on our own in Africa. 

Our next stop in Serengeti was a picnic area at the entrance of the park. We were gathering our paperwork to check in and pay our fees when another guide pulled up next to us and smiled in that familiar way of distant friends meeting again. "Bill! I can't believe we are seeing each other again so soon!" He shook Mark's hand through the open window and smiled across to me. "And Debbie, you look well!"

Almost every stop we made, we were "recognized" and greeted warmly by the wrong names. We decided it was a lucky thing that Bill and Debbie were so highly regarded. Imagine if they had been jerks? We stopped correcting people after awhile and just went with it. Why not? How could we possibly measure up to this mysterious other couple? Would they think so highly of us if we told them our real names? Or would they shake their heads and mutter in disgust about how this Mark and Kelly would never hold a candle to Bill and Debbie. Might as well take advantage of the goodwill and jovial conversation.

When we returned to Shaw Safari headquarters at Twiga Lodge two weeks later, we told the story of being mistaken for Bill and Debbie at every turn. The owner Paul Sweet laughed and explained "Bill and Debbie went on the same circuit you did and were ahead of you by a week. You must have run into some of the same guides they did along the way." Apparently it's hard to tell white people apart, especially when we travel in pairs in yellow Land Rovers. 

Someday, we'd like to run into the real Bill & Debbie. From what we've heard, they're a real kick in the pants.

Tanzania: Shakedowns and Breakdowns

(This is the sixteenth installment in an ongoing series about our self-drive safari to Tanzania. To start at the beginning, click here.)

March 20th was International Day of Happiness. I love the image of the whole world stopping for 24 hours to smile, but I hold no illusions that it actually happened. Although I don't remember specifically, I must have been fairly happy that day. It was a Friday after all...

So what makes us happy? Wide open spaces, the sound of palm trees in the desert, a whale breaching just off the coast, getting a photo that perfectly captures what we're seeing.

What makes us unhappy? Being stuck in a large city for more than 2 hours, being harassed for money and vehicle breakdowns.

What happened to us on our 11th day in Tanzania? Everything listed in that second category.

We hated to leave Lake Natron but it was time to move on. We packed up and headed south, skirting the base of Ol Doinyo Lengai on the rutted road to Mto wa Mbu. We waved goodbye to the two giraffe that seemed to always be browsing on the same tree near the village. We took one last picture of the smoking, almost comically perfect cone-shaped volcano. We stopped on a rise and looked back towards the lake, the thousands of flamingos making a pink haze in the distance. Another perfect morning in Africa.

Only a few kilometers down the road we spotted a small shack by the side of the road. A yellow-painted tree branch was laid across two home made sawhorses blocking the way. Ah. We'd reached the first of the checkpoints we'd been warned about.

A man dressed in olive drab stepped out of the shack to greet us when we pulled up. After the usual pleasantries he told us we owed him $10.00 US each for passage. Sounded pretty reasonable so we handed him $20, which he took inside and carefully filled out a receipt, noting our license plate number in his log book along with the date and time. We asked him about the road condition and he said it was good. We were hopeful that his "good" matched our somewhat modified impression of good, and went on our way.

We were traveling across the plains of Engaresero, an ancient volcanic area with sparse vegetation and consequently a sparse population. It was beautiful in the way deserts are beautiful; the emptiness making it easy to see the stark lines of the rocks and mountains. We were glad we had left early in the morning, the colors were soft and what few animals were around were out grabbing breakfast before it got too hot.

The rocky road across the Engaresero plains.

The road turned out to be fairly decent, the washboard ruts not as deep as in Serengeti, actually smoothing out in a few places. Mark was emboldened by this and pushed the car a little faster than our normal 40 kph. The moment we hit a bump (almost immediately, this was Tanzania after all) the steering wheel almost ripped out of his hands, jerking back and forth. We slowed to a stop and started easing forward again, the steering wheel holding steady. What the hell?

After experimenting with speeds it seemed every time we exceeded 35 kph the car would go into it's wobble mode. The slight problem we were having with the steering between Serengeti and Lake Natron had become a major one. We pulled over and tried to call Shaw Safari to let them know.

No bars. We drove a few more kilometers and came to the top of a rise. No bars.

A lone zebra wonders what's up with our steering.

We have that kind of luck; the kind that guarantees no problems right up to the point where we can't get help if we need it. Paul at Shaw had told us he knew exactly what was needed to fix the car (on a call we made to him when we originally started noticing the wiggle) and to give him a ring when we got close to Mto wa Mbu. Now we couldn't get through and the problem was a hundred times worse. What could we do?

We went on. At 34 kph, one mile shy of wiggle speed. For those of you unfamiliar with the metric system, that translates to 21 mph. We had 75 miles to go; good thing we weren't in a hurry.

About an hour into this journey, we spotted another little shack in the distance. Hmmmm. Someone either chose to build a house right on the road, or we were going to be "tolled" again. Sure enough as we got closer a guy stepped out of the shack and waved us over.

"Jambo!" The Toll Taker looked decidedly less official than the last one. He was wearing a pair of acid washed jeans and a ripped sweatshirt with a soccer team logo on the back. "You must pay a toll to pass. It is fifteen United States dollars."

We pulled out $15 and handed it to him. "No! EACH!" he motioned toward each of us and pointed to the money. Geez, things seemed to be getting more expensive. We gave him another $15 and he waved us forward. No receipt? we asked. "No. Not needed. I remember you." We could only hope.

Blazing down the road at 21 miles per hour, not surprisingly I had a little time to look ahead in our guide book for any interesting roadside attractions. Up ahead somewhere were ruins of an ancient set of villages that had been supported by a complex system of irrigation, an amazing feat considering the lack of rainfall and distant water sources they had to deal with. We spotted a greenish blotch in the valley below and figured that must be it: Engaruka.

A Kori Bustard eyes us suspiciously from the grass.

Maasai have taken over the area once thought to be the home of other tribes (Iraqw and Sonjo) that built the original villages. We passed a few herds of cattle with their keepers on the way down into the valley, waving as we went. We had become accustomed to the stares as we passed by, being in one of the few private vehicles to pass through this area.

There was a wide, shallow river running through the middle of the village, around which it seemed all the local cattle were gathered along with their keepers. The road clearly crossed the river and continued on the other side of the crowds, so we turned into the water and slowly made our way across, waiting patiently for the cattle to part.

A young man ran out into the river yelling at us. "No no no no! This way! The road goes this way!"

We were looking at the road, just 20 feet from us. We pointed to it "Mto wa Mbu?" we asked.

"No, no, no! You must go this way for Mto wa Mbu!"

Ok. We turned around and went back up the bank, turning into a cluster of huts and cattle enclosures. This sure didn't seem like the main road, but it's best to keep your mouth closed until you figure out the lay of the land and the temperament of your host. (Yet another life lesson that extends to pretty much every situation anywhere.)

We slowly followed along behind the young guy as he motioned us through the parting cattle and staring kids. We rounded a corner and saw the now-familiar tree trunk on sawhorses and realized the source of his indignance; we had unwittingly tried to bypass another toll gate.

Our guide ducked inside the toll booth and stood behind the counter. We idled up to the window and he sternly told us we needed to pay for passage through the village. "How much do we owe you?" Mark asked. "Twenty dollars United States." he replied, flipping his log book open and jotting down our license plate number. I pulled a $20 out from our dwindling supply of American money and handed it to Mark.

Our toll keeper made a disgusted noise when Mark tried to hand him the $20. "Each. EACH!"

This is when things started to go a little lopsided. We were both stressed about the steering problem and lack of cell coverage. We didn't mind paying to travel through an area that was obviously economically disadvantaged, but at this point we had already paid $50 to travel 35 miles. Now they wanted $40 for the privilege of beating our car up for another 35? Quite literally highway robbery.

We decided it was worth the risk to try and talk him down. On our first attempt, we willfully misunderstood him and tried to force him to take the $20.

"Twenty each! Twenty each!"

"Yes, here is twenty. For you!"

"No! Each! Must be each!"

In the meantime, an old woman approached with a fist full of necklaces. She stuck her arm in my window and smiled a mostly toothless smile. "Pretty? You like?" she held up a large tooth strung with wooden beads. "Simba! Is simba (lion) tooth!" To illustrate this she clawed at the air and made roaring sounds, menacing me with her gums.

What followed was a confusing mash up of haggling for goods and services. Mark and the toll guy were going thirty rounds. "Twenty?" "Each!" "How about twenty-five for both?" "Each!" while the saleslady and I were bargaining "Simba! You like?" "No, very nice. But no money." "Five dollar. Only five for you." "No. Sorry" "Four dollar. Good price!"

It was hilarious. The toll was going up almost as fast as the necklace price was coming down. I had no interest in another necklace, even if I was allowed to carry the thing onto the plane (which I wouldn't be) and the toll guy was just getting irritated. A small crowd was starting to gather that included some strong young men that didn't look any happier than our toll guy. We decided to cut our losses and pay him his original price. Some things aren't worth the risk.

The unhappy toll guy finally raised the tree trunk and we moved through, crossing the river thirty feet east of our first crossing, joining the road at the exact point we had almost reached ten minutes ago, forty United States dollars lighter. We wondered out loud what would have happened if we had just kept driving and ignored the toll man's yells. Would they have pursued us? How? There didn't seem to be any vehicles anywhere in the village. On second thought, if they did have a motorcycle tucked in there somewhere it wouldn't have been much of a challenge to catch us. Land Rovers aren't really built for high speed chases, especially ones with bad steering bushings.

We spent another two hours bumping along, trying to baby the car and checking for reception on every rise in the road. Finally, about 15 miles from town, we were able to get through to Shaw. We made arrangements to meet the mechanics in Mto wa Mbu. All we had to do was get there in one piece.

We finally reached the pavement, immensely relieved. As crazy as the traffic can be in town, at least the road was smooth. Mark goosed the car along and got it up to 60 kph. Just as we started to celebrate this incredible speed we hit a bump and the steering wheel ripped out of Mark's hands, front wheels slamming back and forth until the car came to a halt. Back to 34 kph it is then.

Our instructions were to call the mechanic when we arrived in town. We found a nice spot in the shade of a banana plantation and parked the car. I dialed the number and as I listened to it ring a young man walked up to Mark's window holding—wait for it—a fist full of necklaces.

This was Emanuel, a charismatic, opinionated salesman in a virtual sea of salesmen. Like flies on elephant dung, sales guys (or flycatchers as they're referred to there, somewhat ironically) swarmed around us the moment we stopped moving. It's as annoying and maddening as you'd imagine. And we had no choice but to play along.

He started with the standard sales pitch. After wearing us down for ten minutes, Mark gave in and bought two necklaces figuring once the sale was made he would leave us alone. No such luck. Two of his buddies came along and tried to get us to buy but Mark held firm. Nope, don't need any more jewelry of any kind. No.

For my part I had hit the limit of good natured haggling back in Engaruka. I've never been one to enjoy bargaining and after the long slow drive from Natron I was tired and sweaty and hungry, not a good combination for pleasant conversation, at least from me. I stayed on the phone a full five minutes beyond the time the mechanic's answering machine picked up, listening to the dial tone to save myself from the sales pitch. I'm not above such behavior, I'll admit.

Eventually Emanuel stopped trying to sell things and just chatted. His friends drifted away, but he leaned his arms on Mark's window and grilled us about America. Who did we vote for? Did we like Obama? Did we know Obama visited Africa and did not visit Tanzania? Why not? Why didn't he come here? He called us out for not knowing who the president of Tanzania is. "I know Obama, why do you not know my president?" he asked. A good point. (It's Jakaya Kikwete by the way, we looked it up when we got home.)

Wasim, on the right, checks his phone while his mechanic replaces our bad steering parts. Roadside, Mtu wa Mbu.

At last our mechanic arrived, Wasim's Auto Repair. They pulled up in a beat up Toyota truck, Wasim himself along with a guy in coveralls and a helper. The Coveralls Guy pulled a new steering arm assembly out of the truck, threw a rubber floor mat under our car and slid under. After about ten minutes of clanking and hammering the old one was off, the new one on, right there on the side of the road. Tuktuks, safari vehicles, motorcycles and trucks flew by within a few feet of  our makeshift auto shop as Wasim told us how common this problem was. "Every time one of these vehicles goes out for two weeks they need a new bushing. They just can't take these roads. And Serengeti? Two days in Serengeti and you will need to change the bushing. I'm surprised you made it as far as you did!"

Meanwhile Emanuel was still hanging out, watching the repair and commenting with a gathering crowd on the merits of different makes of safari vehicles. Apparently we were providing entertainment.

Once the repair was complete, Wasim told us to drive on and give him a call in five minutes to let him know how the ride was. He was on his way to another roadside repair but could circle back if something went awry. We started the car up and got settled but Emanuel wasn't ready to let us go.

"I will take you on a tour of the town. I will show you Mto wa Mbu, no charge." I think he was getting desperate.

"No, we have to go. We've got reservations at Lake Manyara and have to be there today." Mark told him.

"Come back after. On your way back I will give you the tour. Take my picture, then you will recognize me." Emanuel stood back and struck a pose. Mark felt obligated to take his picture.

Sorry to leave you Emanuel. I hope you sold lots of necklaces that day.

Emanuel: Salesman, Tour Guide, Political Commentator

Tanzania: Into the Ngorongoro Crater

(This is the seventh post in a series about our self-drive safari to Tanzania. Next up: Serengeti.)
Our alarm sounded at 5:00am, although we were already awake. It was still very dark outside the tent and when we unzipped the rain fly we found ourselves surrounded by thick fog. We could hear a few other campers stirring, but for the most part it was dark and quiet. Now to figure out how to get the tent packed up, get to the restroom and find our guide Wilson without breaking the number one rule: don't walk around in the dark.

We had no choice, so being as quiet and careful as possible we packed up the tent, a miserable job in the cold mist. Everything was wet (it had rained during the night) and we tried not to disturb our neighboring campers while we fought with the slippery tent cover. The fog was so thick we couldn't see across the campground, our headlamps only lit up a small area in front of our faces. We held onto our bladders as long as we could but finally had to make our way across the grass the quarter mile to the restrooms. We could hear zebra snorting around us but couldn't see them until we were almost on top of them. Our biggest fear was stumbling over a cape buffalo; those guys are known to be really grumpy, especially the bachelors that we knew were nearby.

Back at the car, we silently apologized to our neighbors and started up the noisy diesel engine. We had to turn the lights on for the first time during the trip as we made our way out the campground road to the entrance where we were to meet Wilson. He appeared out of the mist near the entry shack. "We're a little early, but we can leave now if you want." He got in the passenger seat, and I crammed myself into the back. We had to rearrange the car the night before; there was a space just big enough for me and the camera equipment back there.

Out on the road it was even more foggy, if that was possible. Between the dirty windshield and the heavy mist we couldn't see more than a few feet in front of the car. We were among the first vehicles out so there wasn't any oncoming traffic, thank goodness, but once in a while we'd come around a corner to find a bus stopped in the road, picking up the morning commuters from the villages. Ngorongoro roads were destined to be challenging for us no matter what time of day.

Ngorongoro Crater in the early morning light.

We got to the crater entrance road and Wilson hopped out with our paperwork, checking us in at the guard shack. Thankfully the entrance road was one way because it was narrow, very steep and rough as it zig zagged down the crater wall. The sun was just starting to come up, and as we reached the crater floor the fog broke, revealing a huge grassy plain.

Finally, we were in.

Driving along the dusty roads in Ngorongoro Crater, Wilson pointing the way.

Wilson pointed out a herd of cape buffalo almost hidden by the tall grass near the road. He told us that the older males without a herd of their own tend to hang out together for protection. These bachelors always seemed to be in this area, munching on the tall grass with their backs to the crater walls, watchful of the lions that might be prowling around.

Cape Buffalo with his trusty sidekick riding on top, a Yellow Billed Ox-picker eating insects off the buffalo's back.

It was just past 6:00am, and we had followed four other safari vehicles down the access road. Wilson guided us toward the hippo ponds first; he said once the sun came up there would be many more cars coming in and the ponds would be very crowded later. So off we went.

A pile of hippos in the Hippo Pond.

A hippo keeps an eye on our noisy yellow car.

Ngorongoro Crater is loaded with game. Everywhere we went there was an amazing sight: the hippo pond was chock full of hippos, the trees had huge cranes squawking in them, ostriches ran across the grassy plain. We came across a pack of hyena, adults lounging in the sun and the cubs wrestling with each other. Herds of gnus and zebra were everywhere often blocking the roads and staring at the vehicles as if to say "why must you be here so early?"

Cranes hang out in the treetops.

A female ostrich struts her stuff.

The Secretary Bird. This guy stomps on lizards and eats them for lunch.

A bustard peeks though the grass. You heard it right. Bustard. With a U.

Crested Crane, searching out a meal.

Hartebeest, surrounded by wildebeest.

Gazelle in the early morning light.

A resting gnu (wildebeest, same thing)

Guinea fowl

Gazelle, Cape Buffalo wandering around in the background.

Black-backed Jackal

Mama hyena keeping a watchful eye on the young'uns.

Even baby hyenas are kind of cute.

We were slowly cruising across the plains when Wilson told us to stop. He had to point it out for us, but a huge male lion was laying just to the side of the road, his mane blending so perfectly with the grasses it was hard to make him out. It turned out there was a female there with him as well, and they began to get friendly as we sat watching. If only we had remembered that Barry White cd...

Exactly why you shouldn't wander around in the crater: a male lion is almost indistinguishable from the grass.

"Hey baby. Come here often?"

Life's tough when you're the king of the plains.

We spotted two black rhino way off in the distance. Even a kilometer away we could tell just how powerful and enormous they were. A ranger vehicle was off to one side keeping a close eye on them; Wilson told us the rangers keep them in view 24 hrs a day trying to protect them from poachers. So sad that it has come to this. We didn't feel so bad about the high park fees after hearing about their efforts, knowing our money was helping to keep the rhinos safe.

Black Rhino. The ranger vehicle was just to the left, keeping a close watch on them. (Sorry for the photo quality; our camera was zoomed all the way, and I cropped this photo so you could make out the rhinos. They were pretty far out there.)

After a few more hours in the crater we started to have trouble seeing game. It wasn't because there were fewer animals, it was the massive quantity of safari vehicles that were clogging up the roads. You could always tell where the lions were by the pileup of cars at a particular spot. We came across a lioness and her two cubs, parking our car a bit away from them to give them space. Before we could get our camera focused five vehicles sped over and parked within inches of the cats, jostling with each other to get the closest. We ended up getting a few photos by idling by the parked cars, getting our shots from in between the bumpers of the other cars. We were very glad we had gotten up as early as we did and had a few hours in relative peace that morning.

A lioness and her cub, as seen between two safari vehicles.

We stopped in at the picnic area and had a belated breakfast. There were restrooms and picnic tables set up around a spring fed lake, which happened to be full of hippos. We were allowed out of the car here, which made us scratch our heads. Hippos are supposed to be very dangerous, and here we were sitting within twenty feet of them. Africa is amazing and contradictory sometimes.

The picnic area, the clouds still gathered over the crater rim behind.

Hippos lurk in the spring-fed lake,
picnic area.

Me in front of the lake, hippos lurking in the background.

Wilson, our intrepid guide/campground host.

Hippo grazing alongside the picnic area lake.

Huge elephant were grazing in the tall grasses next to the lake.

We came across two female lions stalking a group of wildebeest. It looked like a practice run; even the wildebeest didn't seem to take them too seriously. They didn't seem to mind the audience of safari vehicles that were parked within 100 feet of them. In fact, they crossed the road right between the bumpers of two of the cars.

We watched as these two lionesses half-heartedly stalked some wildebeest. They gave up quickly and wandered across the road right between safari vehicles.

The lions using the pedestrian crossing between vehicles.

An example of the traffic in the crater. Every time there was any sort of action, safari vehicles 
would pile up like flies on elephant dung.

After a few more hours we decided to head back up the rim. The roads were now clogged with so many vehicles it was hard to get a good view of anything; besides we felt we had seen some pretty amazing things in the five hours we spent there. On the way out Wilson led us through the Lerai forest, where elephants were busy tearing limbs off trees and stuffing the branches into their mouths.

Elephant in the Lerai Forest. Check out the thorns on those tree branches! Elephants must have some tough mouths.

We came back up the one way* Lerai Road, astoundingly paved with bricks the entire way. I can't imagine how long that must have taken, with each brick having to be placed by hand.

The "one way" Lerai Ascent Road, paved with gray bricks.

(*I had to chuckle to myself about the "ascent only" signs. After we got back to camp I saw the fine print on the map: "Please be aware the Lerai Road is ASCENT ONLY. Please watch for the occasional descending traffic.")

Back at camp we said goodbye to Wilson. He had to get back to his campground host duties and we were exhausted and hungry after our early morning departure. It had been a fun action-packed day in the Ngorongoro Crater: Where else in the world can you see lions mating while stuck in a traffic jam?

Looking back out across the crater from Lerai Road.

Tanzania: The Vehicle

(This is the second post about our self-drive trip to Tanzania. The next post will be about the roads.)

Once we finally arrived in Tanzania, Mark and I were excited to see what the African counterpart of our truck and camper would look like.

Based just outside of Arusha in northern Tanzania, Paul and Erika Sweet of Shaw Safaris outfit Land Rovers with everything you need to camp and travel through the country. They offered us an itinerary of the multitude of parks there, and even made reservations for us to stay in "special" campsites out in the bush. We would still be driving and camping on our own, but we had their guidance to keep us from wandering aimlessly around Tanzania wondering where all the animals were.

Here's a look at the vehicle and it's contents:

In the back compartment there was a cooler and boxes containing food, pots, pans, plates/cups/bowls/flatware, utensils, cleaning supplies, water for washing, tools for basic road repairs and even a hand pump shower for cleaning up after long dusty days on the road.

Here's the rig fully unloaded for dinner. The table tucked up in the rack over the back door between the car and the tent.

The roof top tent unfolded into a nice penthouse suite.

I think Mark liked this job.

The tent doubled for shade on the sunny days.

The "picnic box" with all the plates, mugs, cups etc.

Our one burner stove, complete with tea kettle.

Each vehicle is equipped with a cell phone with a dual sim card (to double the chances of having service.) One of the biggest surprises for us was the cell phone coverage in Tanzania; with few exceptions, we had coverage in most of the areas we traveled. If we ran into trouble or had a question, there were pre-programmed numbers loaded into the phone that we could call night or day.

The interior was stripped down to the essentials. There was a radio but it was unnecessary; you couldn't have heard it anyway between the diesel engine and the pounding on the corrugated roads. The seats were surprisingly comfortable, which was a good thing having spent at least 7 hours a day sitting on them. Note the orange thing on the seat: a highly important item, it was a waterproof toilet paper holder we took to calling Lou Rawls (after the English phrase for toilet paper, loo rolls)

There was also a GPS mounted on the dash that helped guide us. This proved to be a saving grace, as the printed maps we had were not always up to date. We found roads there tend to get re-routed, added or sometimes disappear altogether after the rainy season. The roads themselves are sometimes only tracks across the savannah which might be the main route, or they could be a safari driver's off road exploration that peters out to nothing after a few kilometers. It was an education to say the least.

For security, there were two locking compartments hidden in the vehicle. We stored our passports, extra cash and other important papers in these for safe keeping.

The lone self-drive vehicle in a picnic area parking lot full of tour group vehicles, Tarangire National Park.

Since we were to be traveling through some remote places, the car was equipped with a high-lift jack, regular jack, tire repair kit and air compressor in case of a flat (or two—it also came with two spare tires.) The roads are rough, to say the least, and we saw multiple safari tour vehicles at the side of the road changing flat tires, their clients fanning themselves impatiently inside. We also had an accessory battery that ran the fridge, and served as a backup to the main. We had a box full of extra fluids (brake, steering, oil) and even a spare generator and air filter, along with a very complete set of tools to work on the vehicle. We also had along some recovery items to help pull ourselves out of mud/sand/ditches or anything else we may have gotten ourselves into.

All these things were extra insurance in a country where you might be able to make a phone call, but help would be perhaps a day or more away. We were fortunate not to have any major problems thanks to brand new tires and cautious driving.

Shaw supplied us with a starter food box, which was really helpful. It contained enough food for a couple days of meals plus basics that we probably would have forgotten to buy: salt, pepper, coffee, tea, milk, sugar, oil and spices. They also supplied a 10L bottle of drinking water to start us off. Drinking water was very important as the local water would have made us sick and, although we were there during the southern hemisphere's winter, it was still pretty warm during the day. There was a 52 liter refrigerator in the back as well, which plugged into the car's electrical. It was nice to have a cold drink at the end of a long day on the dusty road.

Last but not least, Shaw supplies coverage with Flying Doctors for emergency evacuation in case of serious injury. This was the most important factor in getting our mother's permission to go on this trip. (We would have gone anyway, but I think it made them feel better about it.)

Back after two weeks, the car (and us) dirtier but no worse for wear.

Mark got so fond of the car he named it "Plucky" as in, "this plucky little car can drive over/through/around anything!" It powered through some incredibly rough roads that would have torn our US truck/camper rig to pieces. Mark actually teared up when we had to leave it to go home; given time, I think he would have tried to arrange a shipping container and haul it back with us (much to the chagrin of Paul, the owner/outfitter/chief mechanic.)


It was the perfect vehicle for Tanzania's rough roads and varied terrain. Although Mark might be in mourning now, it was best to leave Plucky there. We just might need it again when we go back to explore more of the stunning parks in Tanzania.

"Plucky" waits for us near Ol Doinyo Lengai, an active volcano near Lake Natron in northern Tanzania.

(If you are interested in doing this yourself and want more information about what Shaw has to offer, feel free to email them at: info@shawsafaris.com)