Cottar’s Camp

Avoiding potholes large enough to hide our car, we traveled north then east towards the fabled Masai Mara game reserve to camp amidst the wilds of Africa. Giraffe and wildebeest grazed ’neath the setting sun. As dusk approached the road became a braided track. It split, re-split and then returned to its intended path, but with the night’s descent we could not tell a braid from branch and on each braid would hold our breath until rejoined. We scanned the edges of road for evidence that we weren’t lost upon some track that took us far away from where we wished to go. Marked on the map as Cottar’s camp, our destination lay someplace on that vast plain. Faint lights appeared on left or right to give us hope of imminent arrival at our camp but soon they disappeared and with them hope. It took some time to realize, that throwing back our lights, were eyes beside the road. At last two lights, too bright for eyes appeared ahead. Another car approached and stopped. To our relief did they confirm that Cottar’s camp lay just ahead, ten minutes more. And so we came to Cottar’s camp safari base. Hard-walled tents, an open dining hall, and chef gave it an old romantic air. We asked if we could pitch a tent somewhere close by and were directed down the hill to fresh mown grass and level ground where we could camp. A guard, in uniform, and armed with large bore gun escorted us. He stood on guard until the tent was pitched and walked with us back up the hill to dinner at the hall. Roast antelope, fresh bread, fresh greens, and good red wine. Well satisfied with our repast we walked back down the hill to spend the night sans guard. sans large bore gun. Perhaps it was the good red wine, but we slept well, and woke refreshed to greet the morn. An early breakfast by the tent and then away.