In Tanzania, a couple joins the animals' great migration

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There was no trouble spotting the zebra or any other form of wildlife in the Ngorongoro Crater, which has one of the densest concentrations of animals in Africa. (Steve Stroud / Los Angeles Times)

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Near and in the Tarangire National Park, wildlife is also plentiful. This is where we started our trip, and zebras challenging one another in a playful fight were the first animals we spotted. (Steve Stroud / Los Angeles Times)

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It wouldn’t be long, however, before George Killas, our all-in-one driver/naturalist, would spot the tracks of a lion. The rutted, dirt roads so common in northern Tanzania often yield the identities of all forms of wildlife. (Steve Stroud / Los Angeles Times)

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We saw amu lions on this trip -- sleeping, playing, lumbering along -- but nothing was as exciting as watching a hungry beast on the prowl for its next meal. (Steve Stroud / Los Angeles Times)

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And scoring! A pride of seven lions feasted on the first kill we witnessed on our safari. The meager remains of the zebra fed the hyenas and vultures that came later. The Masai, tribal cattle and sheep herders, populate this part of Tanzania and know well the eating habits of the lions. For instance, a well-fed lion will be satiated for three or so days after a hearty meal. (Steve Stroud / Los Angeles Times)

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While most species of animals -- and tourists -- keep a sharp lookout for lions, elephants show little concern for anything but their young. The entire herd is involved in protecting and caring for a baby elephant. But the elephant’s worst nightmare is not of the four-legged variety. Poaching for tusks in this area is not the problem it is in Kenya, but nevertheless, does happen. (Steve Stroud / Los Angeles Times)

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Everyone loves an elephant but no one would want one as a neighbor. They rip apart trees and, well, everything in sight. We were once surrounded in our Land Cruiser for an hour by a herd that was dismantling its jungle surroundings. Occasionally one would look up, no doubt curious about that weird looking “Green Beast” with the pop-up top. (Steve Stroud / Los Angeles Times)

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The guide behind the wheel of our Land Cruiser waits for a break in the flames blocking the passage back to our lodge in the Serengeti National Park in north Tanzania. (Steve Stroud / Los Angeles Times)

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But we didn’t altogether escape the fire. An hour later, back at Migration Camp, this was the view from our veranda dining table. The camp staff assured us we were protected by the Grumeti River, which separated us from the flaming hillside. (Steve Stroud / Los Angeles Times)

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The smoke-filled sky made for a spectacular sunset, but the topic of dinner discussion always came back to the crackling blaze and the question of whether it was a “controlled” fire. (Steve Stroud / Los Angeles Times)

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We splurged by having our own driver and naturalist, and it was well worth it. That allowed us to switch from one side to another of our off-road vehicle, the “Green Monster,” for spectacular viewing. Leaving the relatively safe confines of the Land Cruiser is ill-advised in the bush, so when the animals come alongside the vehicle, binoculars are a necessity. (Steve Stroud / Los Angeles Times)

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We felt some guilt referring to this as a safari. Although our accommodations were “tents” -- some in treetops, others slightly elevated for views -- they were by no means of the “roughing it” variety. We had to be coaxed out of our first treetop lodge in Tarangire, fearing we would never again find anything as wonderful. This 57,000-acre conservation area is dotted with giant baobab trees. At the Tarangire Treetops camp, the tree’s limbs protruded through the canvas walls and thatched roofs. But even in this luxury, a visitor can’t forget the danger that lurks: Access to the veranda surrounding the treehouse is by ladder, leading to a trap door that is closed at night to prevent unwanted wildlife from straying inside. (Steve Stroud / Los Angeles Times)

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Many of the employees of the lodges are Masai, who do everything from waking up in the predawn hours to light the wood-burning water heaters for a morning shower, to accompanying jittery travelers (always with a weapon and flashlight in hand) to get them to dinner safely. And most of the population outside these idyllic lodges live in the harsh environments of the Masai villages. Boys as young as 5, carrying nothing but a spear and knife, start herding goats and later advance to watching over cattle, which is a main source of income for the tribes. (Steve Stroud / Los Angeles Times)

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The Masai weekly markets are a must. Some money may change hands but barter may be more likely. Most Masai still dress in layers of brightly colored plaid and stripes and wear tire treads for shoes. (Steve Stroud / Los Angeles Times)

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The markets are a key economic and social gathering point for Tanzanians, many of whom walk for hours to reach them. (Steve Stroud / Los Angeles Times)

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In the small villages, the horrible scourge of the decades-old HIV epidemic is still apparent -- and no more so than the number of orphaned children. We visited an orphanage in Mto wa Mbu. Education is important here, and it is hard to pry a coveted pen out of the hands of the young students, even while they are playing. (Steve Stroud / Los Angeles Times)

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The Masai made our Tanzanian experience richer. Highly attuned to their surroundings, they sang to us, educated us and shared with us wonderful stories about their culture and their country. (Steve Stroud / Los Angeles Times)

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The Masai and other Tanzanians also guarded us. An armed guide showed up at our door to accompany us on a bush walk that we had casually declared we’d be taking after lunch. (Steve Stroud / Los Angeles Times)

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The guns were never needed, but the knowledge and acute sensory perception of the naturalist can make or break the safari experience. It took our guide’s trained eye to spot a vulture in a tree and a family of cheetahs below in the vast expanse of the Serengeti. (Steve Stroud / Los Angeles Times)

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When we got closer, we could put down our binoculars. In the Serengeti, the only fences holding the animals are fluid park boundaries. That helps make this a magical experience. (Steve Stroud / Los Angeles Times)

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The trip wasn’t all about animal tracking. At Lake Manyara Tree Lodge in the densely wooded Lake Manyara National Park, we found time for a massage and relaxation amid the sounds of elephants rummaging outside and vervet monkeys playing on our porch. (Steve Stroud / Los Angeles Times)

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Because malaria remains a threat in many parts of the country, mosquito netting is advised at night. We didn’t get a single bite, but those tse-tse flies were vicious. (Steve Stroud / Los Angeles Times)

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Acacia trees and beautiful sunsets became an entitlement. (Steve Stroud / Los Angeles Times)

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The drama of the Big Five and the Great Migration unfairly steal the show from the bird life. Flamingos, African pygmy geese and crested guinea fowl on Lake Manyara; ostrich, pelicans, vultures, hawks, eagles in the Serengeti; and bustards everywhere. (Steve Stroud / Los Angeles Times)

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Along the shores of Lake Manyara, we saw lions eating their kill, wildebeest by the hundreds, and the beloved giraffe. (Steve Stroud / Los Angeles Times)

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And the not-so-favorite hordes of baboons. Despite their constant grooming, they always look scruffy, and they never seem to stop mating. When they emerge from the dense foliage and take over the dirt roads, vehicles must stop and wait until the animals disappear once again into the jungle. (Steve Stroud / Los Angeles Times)

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Of course, there is the occasional cute scene. Necessary prop: a baby on top. (Steve Stroud / Los Angeles Times)

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A Cape buffalo finds tranquility on the shores of Lake Manyara. In their later years, the males often become solitary. Locals call them “retired generals.” Lions are highly respected, but many Africans fear the Cape buffalo more for its speed, power, lethal horns and, most of all, its unpredictability. (Steve Stroud / Los Angeles Times)

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More than 30,000 mammals make the Ngorongoro Crater their permanent home. Animals are free to move in and out of the crater, but the rich volcanic soil, lush forest, and spring lakes help entice grazers and predators to stay year round. The downside of this eye-popping natural wonder: There are few roads that traverse the crater so the density of vehicles and, therefore, tourists diminishes the sense of adventure. (Steve Stroud / Los Angeles Times)

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An icon of the Great Migration is the wildebeest. Whether it’s along a lakeshore or the vast plains of the Serengeti, there is nothing comparable to the beauty of thousands of wildebeest moving seemingly without end through East Africa on the way to Kenya. (Steve Stroud / Los Angeles Times)

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We heard the hippos long before we ever saw them. At night, they would leave the Grumeti River in the Serengeti and rummage around by our canvas cottage. Our naturalist explained that hippopotamuses, sensitive to sunlight, spend most of the day partly submerged, preferring to come out in the cooler part of the day to socialize, test one another’s dominance or graze. (Steve Stroud / Los Angeles Times)

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Getting ready to submerge, a hippo fills its nose with air before disappearing into the murky waters of a hippo pool. These can become stagnant and unpleasant to see or smell, because hippos defecate in the water they live in, even creating foul geysers as they splash themselves to keep cool. (Steve Stroud / Los Angeles Times)

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It was Day 9 of our safari -- the last. We had seen everything on our must-see list except the leopard. Despite days and hours spent scanning the low-lying limbs of one acacia tree after another, their preferred habitat, we had yet to see one of the most beautiful animals of Africa. So we set out that day with a single purpose and, as so often happened on this trip, our expert guide did not let us down. After spotting it in the higher branches of the acacia seeking refuge from the early afternoon sun, we patiently waited until, finally, it descended for a close-up photo-op. (Steve Stroud / Los Angeles Times)

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Will you forgive us for calling this a once-in-a-lifetime trip if we tell you that, in this case, it is not hyperbole? If you still need convincing, pull up this empty chair and help yourself to a cold beer on the open air dining area and watch, with this traveler, the wildebeest, on the ridge in the distance, making their way to Kenya’s Maasai Mara. (Steve Stroud / Los Angeles Times)

By Carol Stogsdill

Nov. 8, 2013 2:45 PM PT

ARUSHA, Tanzania -- Fire was the last thing my husband, Steve, and I expected on our trip to Tanzania for a 12-day safari. Yet here we were in our Land Cruiser, bouncing along rutted dirt roads through walls of fire.

Our hosts reassuringly explained that these fires were intentionally set by rangers — a necessary evil to keep the Serengeti’s famous grazers nourished and content on land that had been set aside for them. And it worked. In just a few days, the green flash of new grass began to pop through the thin coat of jet-black ashes, enticing the return of wildebeests, zebras, impala and gazelles — and with them, a steady flow of tourism dollars.

Because the animals appeared unfazed by the fires, we set aside our worries and turned our attention to the annual awe-inspiring great migration.

We had decided to limit our travel to Tanzania’s northern circuit and its Tarangire and Lake Manyara national parks, the Ngorongoro Crater and the Serengeti. Every year between June and October, hundreds of thousands of wildebeests and zebras — and wild kingdom hangers-on — traverse the Serengeti and cross the crocodile-infested Grumeti River en route to Kenya in what is known as the great migration. We’ve all seen the National Geographic specials, but there is nothing comparable to witnessing firsthand this incredible spectacle.

Each of our four destinations delivered on the promises of Glendale-based Great Safaris, guidebooks and well-traveled friends. Within 30 minutes of striking out on our first game drive on the fringe of Tarangire National Park, we came within yards of a pride of lions feasting on a freshly killed zebra. We thought the trip couldn’t get any better than that, but time and again it did.

It was a pay-before-you-go vacation, so there were many decisions and details that had to be tended to months in advance: where to go, where to stay, whether to drive or fly or both between destinations and, maybe the most important of all, the budget.

We splurged on an already expensive trip and popped for our own all-in-one driver, naturalist and tracker. It was well worth it. George Killas with Ranger Safaris scooped us up at the Arusha Coffee Lodge, where we had overnighted after our arrival at nearby Kilimanjaro International Airport, and was all ours until we boarded a regional flight for our last destination, the Serengeti, where we made similar arrangements.

It meant we could set our own pace without deferring to others in a group safari. Although most lodges take their guests out twice daily in vans, we often opted to spend the entire day in the bush, our lunch served on a table in the middle of nowhere, alongside the zebras and giraffes. Or we could linger and wait for that precise moment when a cheetah would wake from its nap and jump into or out of a tree or perform some other spellbinding feat.

Finally, it gave George time to explain in depth all the wonders — both animate and inanimate — before us. More time too to talk about his beloved Tanzania, including the history and culture of the hundreds of tribal communities that coexist here. One of the most poignant moments of our trip came during a stopover at an orphanage in Mto wa Mbu, which means Mosquito River. Most were there because their parents had died of HIV, still the largest cause of death in this region, followed by malaria. George led the schoolchildren in singing their national song. Their voices rang out clear and prideful. The singing over, the children surrounded him, everyone admiring his Obama hat, a gift from us.

Although our accommodations were tents — some in treetops, others slightly elevated and positioned to maximize the views — they were not of the roughing-it variety. Hot and cold running water, plush linens, laundry service and four-course meals were all included. And all were built to blend into the environment, as at Tarangire Treetops camp, where limbs from the region’s ubiquitous giant baobab trees protruded through the canvas walls and thatched roofs.

Still, it is Africa, and a visitor is constantly reminded that danger lurks. At Tarangire, the veranda encircling our treehouse was accessed by a ladder and a trap door that was closed at night to prevent wildlife from venturing inside. Forgetting to look up can also have dire consequences. On our first morning we learned that a black mamba — one of the world’s most lethal snakes — was found on the roof of one of the treehouses. On our second night, we were awakened by a roaring lion that sounded too close for comfort.

In addition to George, members of the famed Masai tribe were ever present to protect, advise and make a traveler’s experience more memorable. Throughout the trip they did everything from the pre-dawn lighting of wood-burning water heaters to accompanying jittery travelers on hikes and to and from dinner — always with a weapon and flashlight in hand.

Each place we stayed had unique sights and sounds that served to remind us of where we were. At Lake Manyara Tree Lodge, we could hear the elephants thrashing around outside even when we couldn’t see them. Everyone loves an elephant, but no one would want to have one as a neighbor. We were once surrounded in our Land Cruiser for an hour by a herd that was dismantling its jungle surroundings, a trunk load at a time.

Lake Manyara National Park is known for its large number of baboons. If you’re traveling with young children, beware; the baboon’s public behavior is not exemplary. They fight, they chase, they scream — and they make a birds-and-bees discussion with that young adult in your family unnecessary.

Our lodging at Lake Manyara also had a lovely outdoor shower, but its instructions came with a warning. Whatever you do, we were told, make sure to replace the leather straps that prevent the water taps from being turned on by anyone except paying occupants. It seems that the black-faced monkeys like to take showers too, but are notoriously unconscientious about turning off the water when they finish.

There are no amenities on the floor of the Ngorongoro Crater, but the sights and sounds of animals and the drama of predator and prey sharing the same space are on full display. The crater has one of the densest concentrations of animals in Africa, with 30,000 mammals making it their permanent home. Although animals can move freely in and out of the crater, dense forest and spring lakes are enticements to remain. The downside to this eye-popping natural wonder: There are few roads that traverse the crater, so the numerous vehicles and, therefore, tourists diminish the sense of adventure.

Except this time. We only had to look at the vehicles parked on the side of the road to know that something was afoot. We quickly spotted a stalking lion, keeping low, as it moved along a trench. Nearby was a seemingly unsuspecting herd of grazing wildebeests. Were we going to be lucky enough to see a second lion kill? After nearly half an hour of suspense, the lion slowly emerged from his hiding place. We would quickly have an answer to our question: No. An attentive wildebeest, seeing the lion, quickly rounded up the herd’s stragglers.

At Migration Camp in the Serengeti, it’s a nighttime routine for hippopotamuses to leave the Grumeti River, which runs through the property, and graze near the canvas cottages. Our naturalist explained that hippos, sensitive to sunlight, spend most of the day partially submerged in water, preferring to come out to graze in the cooler part of the day. The Serengeti is sprinkled with “hippo pools,” stagnant water that is unpleasant to see or smell because hippos defecate in the water in which they thrive — even creating foul geysers as they splash themselves to keep cool.

Sadly, the hippo’s worst predator is not the four-legged variety. The ban on ivory has provided some relief for the elephant, but poachers now have turned their attention to hippos and their tusk-like ivory incisors. Poaching here is not the problem it is in Kenya but, nevertheless, it does exist.

A traveler on safari is understandably focused on catching glimpses of the big five. But the beauty of the Serengeti is unparalleled, with vast expanses of grasses, trees seemingly placed strategically throughout the landscape, each sunset the best you will ever see. These are reasons enough to make this journey. It just happens to be an amazing plus to be able to scan the perfectly extended bough of an acacia tree and spot a leopard sprawled on it seeking refuge from an early afternoon sun. We waited, of course, until it finally descended for a close-up photo-op. And just in time. The sun was beginning to set on our last day. Leopard: Check.

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In Tanzania, a couple joins the animals’ great migration

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