Karatu is the last town prior to the Ngorongoro Conservation reserve and Crater and then further onto the Serengeti National Park; it also marks the end of our western-celebrity status amongst local school kids on the road side. Jac even got the finger as see waved to the local kids when riding in the cabin with Lelei. The overland truck is left behind and we take the essentials needed for a three day game safari.

The Maasai are shepherds, grazing cattle through the conservation area and traditionally live on a stable diet of cows blood and meat. Henry, our cook who often wears a Maasai blanket as a cape on cold mornings, told me that to be considered a real Maasai you have to have killed a lion. It's worth noting that more Maasai are killed by bad tempered buffalo than lion, hippo or any other animal. The Maasai we saw herding cattle (rather than those manning tours of fake Maasai villages ,checking their mobiles for the time) seemed to mean the business with spears to match their height, had dangling ear lobes with oversized earrings with more beaded necklaces then Clive had beers in South Africa. The conservation area outside of the crater is a flat, dusty, drive with a few vantage points for photos. At each stop on the reserve a new generation of Maasai with tourist dollars in their eyes would sell beaded necklaces, blankets made in Taiwan and spears that would never get through Australian customs. Throughout our African trip our local guides would suggest that buying street items only re-enforces kids not to attend school.

The Serengeti (Maasai meaning 'plain where land moves forever') is befitting as it is August, Africans dry season and we drive through a huge expanse of golden grass lands. We are surprised to hear that it's prime game spotting time in the Serengeti. The animals congregate nearer to water holes and lions slacken their territories to support more prides. The binocular visioned zebra and water smelling wildebeest have already left on their symbiotic mass migrate north to the greener plains of Kenya. It is the largest mass migration on Earth and protected by more than 10 national parks. The Serengeti is the bread maker and divides earnings with the other parks, all of which receive little to no governmental funding. The migration takes a year to complete with many young dying on route most at river crossings at the jaws of six metre long Nile crocs or local carnivorous predators. We do however see plenty of the smart wildebeest and zebra who realise that there is water all year round in the Ngorongoro Crater.

We see hippopotami that smelt as you would expect something might smell if it wallowed in its own filth, gazelle and topi which become only of interest as we eagerly awaited a lions kill, more giraffe and zebra the you could poke a stick at (with compulsory zebra crossing jokes), shadows of leopards sprawled on tree limbs, buffalo grazing amongst our camping ground outskirts and elephants often in herds with young or bachelor herds of old useless males. We see many prides of lions, some with cubs, mostly catnapping in the sun though we did see one lionesses rip into the carcase of a small zebra (with the other 23 safari trucks that were all within a stone's throw). Other times lions walked between safari trucks as if they were trees, exposing their lean musculature as they do so. Later on upon a mound of a dam, a single lioness looks over the plains and we are alone with only our three safari trucks so we get within 15 metres. I take our guides advice to look into its eyes with binoculars. By some chance the lioness seems to hold my gaze even though I know that all it sees is a mass of an object that it can't eat. I would describe the feeling of being that close, with the advantage of the binoculars, looking into those perfectly round yellow eyes as chillingly cold.

Our days include early game drives from sun rise to 11am then 4pm to sunset. On one morning some of the group pay the US$500 for an hour balloon ride. James the youngest of the group at 19 years felt like souveniring a mustard coloured linen serviette from the full English Champagne breakfast pre-balloon flight. The balloon operator noticing a piece missing from the set repeatedly called Moses that day requesting its return; to this James claims 'they keep accusing me of stealing' of which we all reply 'you're been wearing it as a cowboys neck-a-chief all day, they aren't accusing you of anything, you're guilty' and 'just be grateful they haven't reported you to the local police'.

My lasting memory of the Serengeti will be the vast plains of sunburnt grass, dotted with acacia trees and the perfect African sunsets that seemed to better the 40+ we had seen on the Atlantic, Indian oceans and everywhere in between in the days before. After three days on Safari we all headed back to Karatu Camp and to clean clothes thanks to its laundry service.