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The night was noisy and the background hubbub created by the wildebeest was occasionally punctuated with cackling screams from the groups of hyaenas who we had seen before going to bed. Their sudden high pitched wails were blood curdling and made for somewhat disturbed nights sleep.
We were awake as soon as it began to get light, greeted by the same background level of noise, and I looked out over the incredible sea of mammals which covered the ground as far as the eye could see. A group of a half dozen hyaenas chased individual wildebeest around, looking for signs of weakness, and gradually got closer and closer to us. Charlie and I were in the shower block when the hyaenas trotted past PR3 and it was very entertaining to watch Hattie dive almost headlong for the cover of the car, making the lead hyaena c*** his head with significant interest.
We headed out through the herd and started an early game drive past the empty hippo pools, jealous of the stunning views the tourists who floated overhead in a pair of green and yellow hot air balloons must have. It was a perfectly still morning and we watched the sun rising into the clear blue sky, quickly raising the temperature and giving the balloonists an unparalleled view of the migration.
We wound our way south and despite having arranged lunch at a swanky lodge we soon retraced our steps as there was not a single creature in sight across the wide open plains. After a brief chance reunion with our old guide Josh who looked very confused when we asked how his grandfather was, we headed east towards a rocky outcrop which surely must harbour something living. On our way towards Pride Rock we stumbled across a friendly family of elephants and we gratefully watched as the adults grazed, the adolescents played and the baby windmilled his trunk around with great excitement.
By the time we reached Pride Rock there was a scrum of other safari vehicles jostling to get their beige clad passengers closest to the numerous lionesses draped over the impressive slabs of rock. Princess Rainbow ignored the looks of scorn offered by the guides of the uniformly coloured land cruisers and we waved merrily at their stuck up passengers. We sidled through the throng like the ugly duckling with whom no one wanted to be associated but very glad that we were self driving in our characterful colourful and more recently faithful car. It was incredible to see the graceful lions draped over the rocks but time was pressing and so we pushed on, back into the throng of wildebeest.
We briefly restocked in Seronera before navigating a very back country circuit to the lodge which we had earmarked for lunch. Our winding route through a forested valley successfully trapped half of all the tetse flies on the Serengetti in our cab and although Charlie and I splatted many there were numerous bites amongst the group.
After an hour of bumping along the narrow sandy track we finally saw a sign to Serena Lodge and pulled up looking somewhat dishevelled. We desperately hoped that they would serve us lunch and let us use their pool and they did both. We walked, sticking out like sore thumbs, through the splendid luxury of the bar to the restaurant of the sumptuous lodge where rooms started at a poultry $450 per person per night. Lunch was an incredible smorgasbord of salad, meat, fish and chips which we inhaled before heading straight for the infinity pool overlooking the stunning valley far below. The view was incredible but the presence of the remaining 50% of the Serengeti's flies required regular submersion.
We left after an hour and set off to find our special camp in the famous Western corridor, racing the clock to be there by sun down. The official map was unbelievably terrible and only 1 in 10 of the landmarks noted by the visually impaired cartographers actually corresponded with physical features. Unsurprisingly the latitude and longitude marked on the axes of the grid lines bore no relation to the GPS fixes recorded or to our deduced location so we were left with navigating by comparing PR3's heading to the relative angle of straight stretches of road marked on the map. Needless to say we were unable to find where we had booked to stay and instead relocated to the special campsite closest to the co-ordinates we had been given. Pulling to a stop with a view of the plains in front of the sunset we arrived just in time to watch the huge red ball hit the horizon and spread out until it disappeared in a puff of pink clouds. Slightly frazzled we finally relaxed, cooking and eating tuna and tomato pasta before retiring to our tents, aware that we could well be in for a telling off if caught in the wrong camp.
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