Our next stop after Mbita was the Masai Mara. After hours unsuccessfully negotiating with matatu (mini-buses for hire) drivers, our friend borrowed his pastor's SUV to drive us to a halfway point where staff from the tented camp in the Mara would pick us up. The next morning, he picked us up and the pastor was with him. We go to a filling station and our friend returned with a mechanic - he said he was coming with us for "when the car breaks down." We started to worry but explained there wasn't room for a fifth person.
Finally, on the "road" leading away from Mbita, I began to understand why we almost had a mechanic accompany us. I've experienced bad roads in dozens of countries - none of them touched THIS road. At one point we were passing through a small village and all conversation eerily ceased. Several minutes later, our friend explained he had been car jacked when passing through that village the previous year. So then I understood why we had a pastor in the car, and why we couldn't pay any matatu driver enough money to take us.
After several hours of fighting to keep down my malaria pill and granola bar, we arrived at the pickup point for our next ride. We were to inspect and spend a couple days at a brand new tented "boutique hotel" in a nature conservancy - we do business with the owner's ground transportation company and assumed that they would send one of their gorgeous converted T
oyota overland vehicles. Nope - they sent a tiny three-seater pickup truck with two towering men. There was no way we could all fit in the cab of the truck, and after the ride from Mbita all we wanted was fresh air. So we swallowed our dismay & hopped in the rusty bed of the truck with our luggage.Initially this was perfect. We had smooth roads with perfect tarmac and loads of excited children crying out "mzungu!!!" waving at us as we passed through villages...then we made a right turn onto another dirt "road." The signs assured us that the Mara wasn't far but after a few hours bouncing down the road gripping the sides of the truck for dear life, it felt like it was worlds away. At one point I lost my grip & went airborne, landing on my newly reconstructed elbow - OUCH. We lodged ourselves between our suitcases as snugly as possible and took turns listening to my iPod.
When I'd given up hope that we'd ever arrive, we pulled up to the gates of the Ngerende Island tented camp. Covered in the red dirt of East Africa, we walked up to the reception area where we were greeted by Daniel, a Masai dressed grandly with his glowing smile, red cloth and beaded jewelry.
We were handed chilled hand towels and champagne flutes of fresh mango juice, and settled in to an al fresco dining area of mahogany floors overlooking the Mara River where we hungrily dove in to cucumber sandwiches and fruit. As sunset approached, we were serenaded by the hippos in the river and watched little monkeys hopping from tree to tree, and I marveled at how even the most arduous of treks can so quickly melt away into bliss.
When I'd given up hope that we'd ever arrive, we pulled up to the gates of the Ngerende Island tented camp. Covered in the red dirt of East Africa, we walked up to the reception area where we were greeted by Daniel, a Masai dressed grandly with his glowing smile, red cloth and beaded jewelry.
We were handed chilled hand towels and champagne flutes of fresh mango juice, and settled in to an al fresco dining area of mahogany floors overlooking the Mara River where we hungrily dove in to cucumber sandwiches and fruit. As sunset approached, we were serenaded by the hippos in the river and watched little monkeys hopping from tree to tree, and I marveled at how even the most arduous of treks can so quickly melt away into bliss. 
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