We turned off the narrow tarmac road onto a dusty track at a roadside village with scattered makeshift houses roofed in tin sheets or thatch.
The landscape was stunningly picturesque and simultaneously harsh. Thick thorny commiphora bush dominated the vegetation interspersed with sporadic grassy open areas. Ring-necked doves cooed and the regular rhythmic call of the grey wren warbler could be heard in many places. In the distance a massive granite rocky outcrop defied the rest of the bush, forcing its way through the haze toward the sky.
Earthy, baking-hot air caressed our faces as we bumped and wended our way north. I was about twelve years old and shared the back of the jeep with my younger brother and sister. We called out each animal species we spotted to my father, who was driving the battered and hardy old Land-Rover. Heads of giraffes peered at us from the cover of tall acacias. Sleek and tanned impalas and striped lesser kudus would bound across the track ahead of us.
On a couple of occasions we had to stop and my father opened the hood to adjust a cable and pour some more water into the radiator. After what seemed like a long time we arrived at a junction in the track and an armed and uniformed man stood up and stepped out from the shady umbrella of an acacia. He got in the front next to my father and directed him off along another track which headed towards the inselberg.
When we arrived there we were allowed out of the vehicle. We excitedly scrambled all over the rock, imitating baboons, and reaching the summit to take in the vastness of the landscape. Aside from the dirt track there was not another sign of human presence. The wilderness, isolation and power of this natural world was overwhelming.
After a snack we returned to the Land-Rover and the adults informed us that from now onward we would not be allowed out of the car or to go anywhere without the presence of an adult. Suspecting that we’d take this as a challenge, the warning was elaborated with an explanation. We were nearing lion expert George Adamson´s camp.
When George was married to Joy they reared the famous lioness Elsa and successfully re-introcuced her to the wild. After their separation George moved south across the Tana River to this wilderness, Kora, and continued his passion for lions, reintroducing others back into the wild. Some introductions were sucessful and others not, but because there were lions in this area that were not afraid of humans it was imperative that we stayed in the car and were always with an adult.
Before dusk we arrived at George´s simple camp. We found a massive fenced enclosure and entered it through a gate. We were only allowed out of the vehicle once the gate was closed.
Some of the lions had recently been reintroduced and still came to the camp to be fed. George and his team would drag the carcass of a camel outside the enclosure. The growls, roars and dust around the carcass was impressive.
If we became excited and raised our high-pitched voices the lions would stalk up to the fence to investigate, and when that happened we did not need anyone to tell us to be quiet.
My father was surveying this recently declared game reserve and we would hand him the theodolite and other tools when he stopped to make measurements. Unfortunately we were not allowed to follow him to the tops of hills near the camp and had to stay in the Land-Rover with one of the armed scouts because of these curious massive lions.
I don´t think George was happy having kids in camp, but we had brought him some of his favourite whisky and we did behave, playing with rocks (representing Land-Rovers, elephants rhinos and lions), and sticks (giraffes, kudus, impalas, hyenas and other beasts) in the sand. Meanwhile the adults discussed the practicalities of making “roads” through this uncharted terrain and frequently laughed over stories they recounted.
These childhood adventures—and others like them—instilled in us an intense appreciation for seeing new places, and above all prioritizing the experience of being in remote wild areas over luxuries and comfort.
It’s somewhat ironic that although all of us at A Step Ahead are passionate about the wilderness, we increasingly find that luxury is often the focal point of the custom safaris we design for our guests.
Does luxury have to compete with wilderness—or can it be the gateway that allows others to discover what we found on that dusty track to Kora? If you would like to express an opinion you are welcome to do so on our A Step Ahead Facebook or Instagram pages.
Justin
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