We grabbed a breakfast of coffee and scones and Charlie, after eavesdropping on the neighbouring tables conversation, introduced himself to a professor of wildlife medicine at the RVC who was here investigating a local outbreak of Rinderpest! After an impromptu breakfast clinical club meeting, which fascinated Hattie, we wished his team luck and tried to settle the bill. Somehow Bob piloted us out of Wasso but not before I bought 12 of the most expensive (and smallest) eggs in the world. We had also received responses from our Dads who confirmed that Father's Day was not for another week but thanked us for our enthusiasm.

It had rained heavily overnight which dampened the choking dust but also gave PR3 some fairly bottomless puddles to deal with. The winding red earth road looked ominous anywhere outside of the tracks and it was taking all of Bob's concentration to stick to them. In the end it was Donkeys which were our downfall. Carrying our speed up a hill and out of a wood, where we'd negotiated a boggy detour and dodged a high speed grader, the track sloped away to our right and the mischievous equids stood firm on the safe higher ground of the left rut as we roared towards them. I desperately sounded the horn whilst Bob spun the wheel in an effort to maintain precious our momentum but the sucking bog clawed at her right side wheels bringing her to a standstill. There was a moment of silence in which the donkeys shuffled off looking awkward and Charlie and I squelched about to assess just how stuck we were. The answer was very, but fortunately whilst unpacking the boot to find the spade and our walking boots, 3 motorbikes arrived, bringing with them a small army of smiling helpers and a tall man in a leather jacket who spoke quite good English.

We spent 20 minutes digging away at the walls of mud surrounding our wheels and cutting foliage to try and give the tyres some purchase. Satisfied that we could do no more weweighted the upper wheels wit bodies and started the engine. Princess Rainbow slithered and slid and with mud flying, roared out of her wallow and back to the safety of the high ground which was now mercifully free of donkeys. Our recovery team cheered and congregated around the boot where Charlie distributed coke and beer. This appeared to be suitable payment and as swiftly as our helpers had appeared we were alone again. From then on we had numerous close shaves and ended up repeatedly scouting the road ahead on foot. The road finally improved, but not before Charlie massacred a small sapling with the left sidestep, and we arrived at the inappropriately named Klein's Gate. This momentous landmark, towards which we had been heading for the past few days, was actually just a lonely set of gate posts topped with buffalo skulls but nevertheless we were glad to have made it.

Inside the hut a friendly man discussed our route plan with Charlie and Bob before scorching Charlie's credit card and directed us to the Ranger's post where we could confirm our onward route. We returned to the car, passing through a scattering army of red and blue lizards, and set off into the park. It felt amazing to finally be entering the Serengetti under our own steam and Bob soon took us off the beaten track on the Lobo hill circuit. We were all engrossed in our surroundings as we clocked ostrich, giraffe and secretary birds before our first new species cantered across our tracks, a monstrous Eland. We continued to climb the rough grassy track spotting the black swarm of the migration in the valley below. We continued bumping along the and followed our noses to a ridge where we found a hotel guarded by disgruntled looking rock hyraxes. They insisted we have a guide to navigate the 2 turnings to the Ranger post where we were not particularly surprised when they were unable to arrange the bookings as we had been promised by the man on the gate.

With Charlie unable to speak he was so cross, we changed our plans yet again and headed off to try and do a game drive before heading to our special camp for the night. We hadn't eaten since our diminutive breakfast scone and, after our pathetic attempt at restocking, lunch consisted of a bag of peanuts and a tin of halal corned beef, which Charlie and I attempted to eat with a teaspoon. Needless to say we did not finish it. The route we chose was exciting to say the least, and although there was limited wildlife to see we worked on our tracking, namely trying to find the tracks we were supposed to be following. Bob ploughed on through tall grass, across streams and over ravines until we were so lost we were just following a compass bearing for where we wanted to end up. Fortunately in the nick of time we came across a more likely track and followed it. After fording a river and passing a Ranger's vehicle we found our way back to the access road and so to our special camp just in time to erect the roof tents and cook our second vegetable curry before the sun set.

It was idyllic sat around watching the sun sink lower in the sky with cold beers and G&T's in hand listening to the surrounding bush come to life. Having heard lions calling in the very near vicinity we tidied up pronto and, clutching mugs of tea, ascended to the safety of the elevated canvas as night closed in. We all piled into one tent and sat in darkness watching sheets of lightening roll over the hills to the east, our ears picking up the calls of hyaenas, zebras and water buffalo as the repeated throaty bellows of different lions appeared to encircle us. We redistributed into our own tents after an hours incredible listening and continued to scan the sounds of our very much alive surroundings as we fell asleep.