The sunrise woke us at around 630 and we enjoyed a breakfast of fried eggs and baked beans whilst discussing the nocturnal cacophony of lions, hyaenas and cicadas which had punctuated our restless sleep. We were soon packed up and headed off towards the Grumetti river circuit where we hoped to track down the migration that Bob had spotted the day before. The early morning sunlight filtered between the clouds and we passed groups of Cokes Hart antelope and Topi as well as meeting a very bold giraffelet who stood in the middle of the road soaking up the first rays of the day.

Charlie blotted his copy book early by covering Bob in mud through her window but all was forgotten as we headed off the main road, onto the overgrown track which the map suggested to be the route we wanted. We wound through the long grass and soon met up with the Grumetti River to our North, a torrent of brown water in the bottom of a steep sided gorge with numerous crossing points and next to them several groups of exhausted looking wildebeest. After around 2km our track turned in land and we all saw too late our impending predicament as Princess Rainbow powered straight into a mud wallow. Charlie's first reaction was similar to that of Jeremy Clarkson's and unsurprisingly more power only got us into deeper trouble. There was a moment of silence as the wheels stopped spinning and we all sat there, unwilling to believe what had just happened. As it was only 930 in the morning I put it down to a bad dream but as I stepped out to assess just how much sh1t we were in, the dream became reality and I was looking at a 3 tonne multicoloured Defender sunk up to her axles in a sucking bog with no suitable winching points and a good stretch of swamp ahead.

As I was coming to terms with fact that we were very very stuck, miles from any assistance, in one of the most densely populated areas of predators in the world, Charlie sheepishly appeared around the submerged bonnet and we shared yet another knowing look. I tried to return a reassuring 'don't-worry-it-could-have-happened-to-anybody-and-well-be-out-in-a-jiffy' sort of look in return but at this point Hattie started screaming. We both dived back into the safety of the car and as the doors slammed shut we csught sight of our first leopard slinking down the tree trunk just 30m infront of us. Our bad situation had just got worse and I was unable to give Charlie the look of calm reassurance which I had originally intended, instead we all realised how vulnerable we were.

After the big cat had disappeared from view and Hattie had finished hyperventilating we posted Bob as a sentry on the roof of our stricken Princess and Charlie and I warily constructed a damage report. We moved quickly and quietly, constantly glancing over our shoulders expecting to see the tall grass shifting but we all made it back into the car un-mauled for crisis talks. The only way we were getting out of this mess was a tow, but as we had not seen another vehicle in 36 hours, let alone on this remote circuit, it was time to be British about things. We would not panic and most certainly would not surrender and with those things in mind we set about attempting a vigilant self rescue.

We had to ignore the minor park rule about never leaving your vehicle and set about collecting dead trees and long grass to stuff in the ruts to try and give Princess some grip. We moved in pairs, with a blunt hatchet and mash hammer for self defence under the constant vigilance of the sentry on the roof, scanning the area for any predators. We soon felt confident that we could not wedge any more logs, grass, rocks or thorny branches into the ruts within the quagmire in which we were tiptoeing and as we had broken the spade and got the highlift Jack irrecoverably stuck in the mud we decided that it was time to give it a shot. Hoping that our quick fix would see us on our way I turned the key, the engine roared, the wheels spun and Princess remained thoroughly sunk.

Queue a small quiet moment of self doubt, followed an artificially upbeat team strategy meeting in the blistering sun to discuss our other options whilst madly swatting at the flies which filled the air. Despite our leopard friend not making a reappearance we vetoed the idea of walking back to the main road for help, as this was likely to land us in deep do-do and also would be difficult to explain to parents when only 50% of us arrived back at Heathrow. Our CB radio was as silent as a church mouse and having spammed the airwaves for half an hour with our official radio speak mayday alert, nobody acknowledged our predicament. Blasting S.O.S every 2 minutes on the airhorn did make me feel better but had an equally disappointing response. Running out of sensible ideas we lit a fire to send smoke signals to the Rangers/Cherokees but as all we managed to do was lightly fumigate Hattie, who was on sentry duty at the time, this idea was added to the growing list of failures. This list also soon included waving madly to the plane which passed high overhead and walking as an armed pair to find phone signal on the nearby tump.

I had a little sit down and a chat to myself, trying to ignore the incessant thought that right now we were supposed to be enjoying morning coffee on the terrace of the £1000 a night Migration Camp whilst reminiscing about our first leopard sighting we had enjoyed on the mornings game drive whilst cruising along the Grumetti circuit. Back in the real world I again vetoed the idea of walking through Jurassic Park for help and pulled myself together. It was simple, the wheels were spinning because they had no traction and they had no traction because the axel was stuck so we had to build each wheel a raft to lift the whole axel out of the swamp. Simple...ish if the bonnet wasn't submerged and we had an endless supply of sand boards. The others reluctantly agreed with my last ditch plan but it wasn't like we had many other options so we set about raising Princess. Sweating profusely, and closely resembling a family of warthogs who had just enjoyed a good wallow, we finally extricated the temperamental highlift jack from where we had previously got it stuck in its 2 foot deep mud grave. With something at last going our way we raised each wheel to its maximum height out of the stinking mire, allowing us to fill the rut and place huge rafts of timber across them so supporting the wheel when it was returned to the floor. With the surrounding Savannah cleared of dead timber and the front wheels raised masterfully from the swamp we set about the rear axel but first the infuriatingly sticky jack received a minor sunflower oil service or else it was going to be thrown in the Grumetti. Fortunately Bob's sharp eyes noticed the car keys drop into the mud, nearly disappearing unnoticed into the hole which Charlie was filling with boulders from the riverbank.

By the time the jack lowered the fourth wheel onto its raft we were all exhausted, the CB radio was still silent and the horn was almost worn out. We had drunk over 7 litres of water and looked like poor relations to Stig of the Dump. We all had blistered hands from wielding the world's bluntest hatchet and were at the end of our patience persuading the jack not to score any more deep scrapes in the aluminium bodywork following every descent. I was regretting my decision to go sockless as my bare feet were slipping around in stinking mud inside my walking boots and the flies were driving us demented. We had all become unacceptably blasé about the very real threat of predators and Hattie was turning the same pink as my cap stuck on sentry duty and had started hallucinating. With no more available timber in the surrounding quarter mile of bush and after four and a half hours of hard preparation, we decided that it was time.

I felt the enormity of this moment weighing heavily on my shoulders as The engine fired and looked at the desperation and hope in my teammates faces. I felt the slick tyres bite the wood and crossed everything available as there would be no second chance. Although morale had remained excellent in the face of our predicament, failure was not an option and I explained all of this to Princess Rainbow in detail before we set off in reverse. Tyres spun, mud flew and wood cracked but we were moving. Aware of the others willing us backwards Princess and I fought off the clinging mud behind the rafts with a burst of raw power and just as we were slowing to a cataclysmic failure the trees caught on the thorn bushes we had laid and our car of many colours surged backwards onto the high ground amid whoops, cheers and much horn honking. So followed an almighty embrace and to further compromise our delirious, dehydrated and derelict bodies we shared a celebratory cold beer overlooking the scene of devastation which had been the focus of all our mental and physical efforts for the past 5 hours. Dishevelled and disgusting but feeling much better for the beer we swiftly packed up our tools, bags and other belongings, all dripping in mud, and got the hell out of there, heading back to the safety of the road as quickly as we could, noting the mobile phone signal which appeared after around 200m. We had spent half of a valuable day in one miserable spot but it would never be forgotten, not as long as any of us lived.

Grinning from ear to mud splattered ear we were all on cloud nine but had to make up for lost time as we headed south on the 70km road trip to Serenoa where we had to reach the park office by closing time to stand a chance of get accommodation this evening. We were flagged down by the first vehicle we had seen since entering the park and the driver had quite a shock as his eyes took in the family of mud splattered pigs sat smuggly inside the equally filthy multicoloured Landrover. Eager to hear our tale he confirmed that the Grumetti circuit was indeed very dangerous and a local guide had been stuck in a similar spot for 6 hours a few weeks previously. With the drivers guests looking slightly pale we parted company, quietly pleased that someone else had experienced the same situation as us in the communication black hole of the northern Serengeti. Incredibly, after just another kilometre, Charlie spotted a huge male lion just off the road and our day continued to improve as we pulled up next to a cheetah lazing around in the shade of a tree.

As our sunburn developed we pushed on, coming to terms with just how lucky we had been to get PR3 out and not to have become a leopard's lunch in the process. On that note the time for lunch came and went again but we had a deadline to meet and had thrown out the remaining half of yesterdays tin of corned beef. As we drew closer to Serenoa we found where all of the other potential rescue vehicles had been hiding as well as spotting a questionably live hippopotamus who them proved his liveliness by performing a very adept barrel roll in the water beneath the bridge on which we had stopped.

On arriving at park HQ, and as is customary in Tanzania, we spoke to several officials who were unable to help us, though some of this may have been because Charlie resembled a swamp dragon. Having moved our enquiries to another office on the small airfield, we fed a constant supply of Pringles to a Ranger who was eventually able to produce the nessecary paperwork for us stay in the parks. Whilst Charlie was organising these delicate negotiations in the departures shed the girls and I sat, slightly shell shocked, watching the light aircraft take off and land. Our presentation provided much entertainment for the locals as the dried mud reached our thighs and was splattered across our faces as exhaustion set in. As Charlie finally appeared with the stamps of approval a hyaena wandered into the middle of the landing strip but we had a date with the sunset and after placing our supper order with a very scary lady at the 'restaurant' we bombed to our campsite where the welcome promise of a shower awaited.

All thoughts of ablutions went on hold as we pulled into Dikdik campsite and by sheer fluke arrived in the middle of the migration. There were wildebeest as far as the eye could see, cantering grunting, fighting, copulating and all oblivious of the huge red sun which was just about to set above them. Not quite believing our luck, and wondering if today could possibly throw up anymore excitement, we assembled on the roof of PR3 with cold beers and cameras to watch the sun set in the best of company and with a view which would never be forgotten. We watched the circling wildebeest until the light ran out and finally headed to the shower block, not minding that they were cold and had to be lit by the headlamps of the idling car. Spruced up we loaded back up and headed out on an impromptu night drive during which we met hyaenas and hippos wandering down the road.

More hyaenas waited for us in the carpark where our sultry cook had set out a private plastic table and chairs for us under a single bulb and her husband sat and watched us with a Kalashnikov on his lap. The standard collection of chicken, veg, rice, unnamed sauce and papaya tasted fantastic and exhausted as we all were, we reminisced on what an incredible day it had been. Bob piloted us back through the darkness, with the huge spotlights picking up orange eyes everywhere and we set up the roof tents in the dark in record time and collapsed, falling asleep surrounded by the all encompassing noises associated with camping in the middle of a herd of thousands of neurotic wildebeest.