I had booked a night at Lake Nakuru Lodge weeks earlier. The idea then was to have a day in a lodge to clean up and do a bit of laundry after a long stint in the Mara. Now it was mere indulgence, but I had already paid for the night so why not. I entered the park at the north end and drove down the eastern side to the lodge. After bringing the cameras and equipment to my bungalow, I stretched out on the bed for a quick nap. I thought I might go out about 4 p.m. for an afternoon game drive. No such luck. A blustery thunderstorm came over the lake from the south and blasted away for an hour or so. This was to be the pattern every day in Nakuru.
The morning revealed almost clear skies. The "almost" covered the eastern horizon with thin bands of clouds that obscured the rising sun and knocked a couple of stops off the available light. I drove to a part of the forest where we had seen the white rhino last year. A pair of them were there this time, and I watched them for a while. I then drove across the southern shore of the lake, stopping to take some landscapes. A large number of flamingos were at Nakuru this year, more than in 1995. They formed pink sheets and bands on the pale blue of the lake. The haze gave everything, even the surrounding hills and cliffs, a faintly blue look that actually was rather pleasing in some of the wide-angle lake/sky-scapes.
I continued west and drove south on the westernmost track. It goes through forest for about a kilometer. In the middle of that, walls of tree and shrub on either side, the car came to an abrupt stop. At first I thought it was the little connector coming from the battery; if that breaks off, you have no electrical power. But a look under the hood showed all wires, at least all likely suspects, in good order. I tried to start the engine, and it turned over immediately. I drove about 100 meters and then it died again. A bit of a nuisance, this, being on one of the least used tracks in the park. The petrol gauge showed a low but nowhere near empty tank. Still, I thought, maybe the gauge is off. So I hauled out a jerry can and put 20 liters in the tank. It was then that a black rhino crashed through the trees, stopped in the track and looked in my direction for a moment, and crashed into the trees on the other side of the track. Well, at least I had seen one of the black rhinos at Nakuru, if only for ten seconds. Poacher-shy, the last few remaining black rhinos have become secretive and elusive—with good reason.
The first few attempts to start the engine failed; then it suddenly burst to life, and ran smoothly the rest of the trip. Maybe it had been out of petrol. So, I drove toward Makalia Falls, where I planned to camp the next four days. On the way I stopped to photograph impala and waterbuck. The day had turned warm and sunny (finally), but with so much moisture in the air, the clash of hot and cold at higher altitudes would generate clouds later in the day.
Makalia Falls is a beautiful campsite. There you will find proper latrines, well water, even a shower. Assuming the bore pump works. It was fine in 1995. This year, a faulty gasket had rendered it inoperative: no water at the campsite. I was kicking myself for not refilling my ten-liter water jerries, but I had figured I would have water the last days of the safari. As it happened, I got all I needed from a water truck that stopped at the camp the next day. But still, I was looking forward to being able to shower. Well, you can't have everything.
In February 1995, the campsite had been dry and bare. Now the grass was thick. Buffalo dung dotted the fields everywhere. The trees along the banks of the stream below the falls were frosted with bright sprays of yellow flowers, and many of the acacias were in bloom. I set up camp under the same acacia we had chosen in 1995. Now it offered a bit more shade.
On the first day at the falls, whiling away the early afternoon hours in reading or listening to the BBC, I watched the sky apprehensively as huge masses of cumulus clouds formed and floated steadily toward the west. I knew the afternoon light was going to be lousy. Somewhere in the distance, thunder sounded out the path of a heavy storm. Makalia Falls is situated behind a rise, and as you drive there and back you have a wide view of the eastern side of the valley. Every afternoon, I stopped on the top of the rise and assessed the meteorological conditions. Rain was always pouring down somewhere within view. The question was, would it eventually move directly over the campsite? The first night I was spared: the storm missed me.
I had different company every night. Couples and groups would camp for a single night and then pull out. The first night the bull buffaloes started grazing in the camp even before it was completely dark. I could make out about ten of them. They stayed most of the night. About two a.m. I woke up to the sounds of a buffalo breathing and chewing. He was very close. Then he flopped down right outside my tent. I had to listen to his breathing and cud chewing for the better part of an hour.
The second morning provided the only early morning sun I had in Nakuru. That put me in a better mood, at least. I was thinking as I drove down the track that this safari would have no cats—no cheetahs, no lions. The instant that thought occurred to me, I turned a corner and brought the Suzuki to a stop. Three lions had chosen to lie down for a rest in the road and completely blocked the track. On my right two more were working on the remains of an eland they had killed probably a couple of hours earlier. In all I counted nine lions—females and young males, no cubs or mature males. I shot a few close-ups of one of the females and moved on, driving off the track around the lounging lions.
On my return trip that morning I found the jackals at the kill, squabbling over scraps. Three of them tugged at the rumen—that made a nice shot. Since there are no hyaenas in Nakuru, kills stay intact for a while. I went back to the kill the next morning. The jackals were still picking over the bones. For a brief moment the sun came out from behind the clouds, and lit the ribcage of the eland: the bones and remaining flesh glowed white and red in the strong back lighting. Then the jackals came to the carcass (now not much more than a skeleton) and I was able to get a series of shots of the jackal back lit with the glowing ribcage behind him. That is one of the best shots of the safari.
A bull buffalo provided the second major shot from Nakuru. On my last afternoon, I ventured out notwithstanding the sunless sky that was a jumble of clouds. As I drove up the track, I came across a lone bull rolling in a wet patch and covering himself completely in the stickiest mud you can imagine. Even in the dull light that made a rather fun picture. I drove on and pottered about on the plains. I noticed a hole in the clouds that I thought might eventually work its way into a position that would allow a moment of sunlight to get through.
I decided to return to the muddy buffalo and wait for the sun. He had moved out of the mud by the time I got back and was alternately grazing and rubbing against short acacias. I pulled very close to him, but he seemed indifferent. I looked at the opening in the clouds. The sun was turning the edges of the interlocking clouds silver, and I began to think the combined movement of sun and clouds would contrive to keep the light forever obscured. After ten minutes of waiting, the sun finally peeped through and I turned my attention fully on the buffalo. He had deliberately entangled himself in a small acacia and was rubbing his head and horns against the thin branches. That made an interesting picture. Then, after he began feeding again, I moved still closer and took some lovely, tight shots of his muddy head.
The weather did not continue cooperative for long. I had seen a wide front of rain in the east, and I could tell it was moving across the valley and would most likely take in Makalia Falls. It did: just as the rice for dinner came to a boil, the rain started. I had to put the stove and half-made meal on my food box in the back of the truck and sit inside. The rain came down for over an hour. By the time it had stopped the rice had absorbed all the water even without being heated.
The last morning was quite productive. I decided to drive out along the eastern side of the lake, and took a track I didn't use very often. There I got some shots of the francolins that pop out from the shrubbery along the track and then dash back into cover when you stop to photograph them. This pair was unusually cooperative. Later a group of female impala caught my attention. I followed a fawn that was searching for its mum and got a couple of pleasing suckling shots. Grooming baboons rounded out the morning. I had skipped breakfast, so I stopped one last time at the Stem Hotel and had a full breakfast.
On the drive back to Nairobi I went through eight police checks. Even on the Old Naivasha Road, the shortcut from the A104,there were three. And that's mostly through slums. But at least the capital had been having good weather: it hadn't rained once while I was on safari. Not even a brief afternoon shower.