African Safari, part 2:

Rather quickly, we got to the business of seeing animals. Indeed, later bolstering the notion that the credit card story did truly bode well for the trip, we were almost laughably blessed in that regard: Toward the end, Helfer said in all the safaris he’s led over 20 years, he couldn’t recall a group that managed to see the quantity and types of animals we did.

There was a sneak preview of this at our very first destination, Amboseli National Park, nestled at the foot of Africa’s highest mountain, Mt. Kilimanjaro. Even when we were still an hour’s drive away, tooling along in our van, we were seeing loads of giraffes, wildebeest, impalas and ostriches, among many others critters and birds. But the animal Amboseli is most noted for is the elephant.

As it happens, I have a particular fondness for--even a profound kinship with-- elephants: I adore them because they’re not only highly intelligent (you almost never hear of one losing his credit card), but sophisticated in myriad ways, including being one of the few animals that express emotions and feelings, including observably grieving when a member of their family dies.

So I was enormously excited to be approaching Amboseli, but not as giddy as I quickly felt upon arriving there--the place was lousy with elephants! Dozens and dozens of elephants. And this was merely on the way to our digs, the Amboseli Serena Lodge, and before our first official “game drive,” wherein you scoot around in your vehicle, searching for animals to view and photograph.

After checking in, we enjoyed a tasty buffet lunch, one of approximately 683 buffet feasts we’d enjoy on the trip. No one starves on safari, or at least on a Ralph Helfer safari, and with a few notable exceptions, most meals at most places were served buffet style. I’m not a big buffet guy, but on the plus side, the food was uniformly excellent, with great varieties of first-rate fish, meat, salads, curries, fresh tropical fruits, local dishes like ugali--and every meal starts with exceptionally tasty, often-inventive soup.

So, buffet fortified, our group piled back into the van, Helfer and driver/guide/spotter extraordinaire Stephen Chege in front, and the six of us in back, each occupying a window seat, though the prime viewing was achieved through the now-popped roof, affording us the opportunity to stand and comfortably scan the tawny tundra with binoculars and, upon spotting and approaching animals, take pictures the same way. By the time we completed a game drive that afternoon and two more the next day, we had seen a staggering number of elephants. I mean, on one drive alone we easily saw 80--breathtaking for someone so passionately pro-pachyderm.

But almost eclipsing the quantity was the proximity: In a quickly-developing pattern that was duplicated almost daily for the next two weeks, the animals came very, very close to our van, sometimes within 20 feet. Or less. We never crowded them--licensed guides like Stephen are required to keep their vehicles a reasonable distance from the animals, and just generally ensure that no wildlife is harassed in any way. But while conscious of maintaining a respectful distance, sometimes a given animal, or group of them, would simply elect to stroll quite close. But whether a few feet away or spied at a much greater distance through binoculars, Amboseli gave us an enormous, early boost toward hitting the animal-viewing jackpot. Before closing out our Amboseli stint, we visited a village belonging to the Maasai, the pastoral people found in many parts of Kenya and

Maasai Dancer