Slow Down, See More: the Joy of Slow Travel on a Tanzania Road Trip

That’s why, when a friend floated the idea of a Tanzania safari, I investigated how to make it happen with the most flexibility and freedom possible. During the planning process, I got in touch with Unforgettable Travel Company, a luxury travel agency specializing in custom trips, and it convinced me to give a travel agent-planned trip a try. I told them we wanted to do three things: see diverse landscapes, experience the country by car, and stay at a range of different campsites. And now, having returned from my trip, I’m glad I leaned on experts when it came to visiting the real-life Pride Lands.

I was surprised by the travel-planning company’s flexibility

Everyone who knows me knows I’m stubbornly anti-itinerary and anti-tour company, sometimes to my own detriment. But since it’s a custom travel company, it felt more rugged and individualized than I expected.

My planning calls with Unforgettable Travel felt like I was brainstorming road trip plans with a friend. I wasn’t asked to simply choose a premade itinerary from a website; I told them my three key criteria, and we worked out a great week-long safari experience in the Serengeti.

I looked forward to this initial itinerary for all of two days before I annoyingly called my advisor back.

“So, I’ve been Googling,” I said, “and I found this place called Ngorongoro Crater southeast of the Serengeti. It looks like Jurassic Park. Can we work it in?”

“No problem,” was the immediate answer, impressively hiding their frustration with me.

My advisor probably already thought I was odd, as what I looked forward to most about the trip was something many travelers probably try to avoid: traveling by car through the country. Given the vast distances between lodges and game reserves, the most popular method for travel in the country is domestic flights in small bush planes, hopping from camp to camp. But to me, driving felt like the best way to see more of the countryside and savanna, and added a fun road trip element. Now, having done that, I can say it was the best of both worlds, giving us additional autonomy to make stops, but with the safety and convenience of a knowledgeable guide who navigated the Serengeti like he was traveling through his own backyard.

Driving to Ngorongoro helped build excitement for the trip to come

Our guide picked us up from our hotel in Arusha, the gateway city to the Serengeti, in a rugged-looking safari vehicle. It could seat seven, but since all Unforgettable Travel tours are private, my friend and I had the spacious car all to ourselves. It would be our home for the next week as we traveled more than 300 miles across the plains of the Serengeti.

Geoffrey, our guide, wasn’t a man so much as a wildlife encyclopedia. En route to Ngorongoro Crater, he rattled off interesting facts about the baboons on the roadside, and swiftly identified birds we’d never heard of. He answered every question I asked with confidence, even ridiculously stupid ones, like “If giraffes only eat plants, how do they get so tall?”

Smooth roads soon turned to bumpy gravel, then dirt. And it didn’t take long to make me happy we hadn’t opted for a full do-it-ourselves road trip, as it quickly became clear you shouldn’t go off-road driving on the unmarked roads and trails around Tanzania’s national parks. Away from the main roads, it was mostly dirt roads with no signs or markers whatsoever. It seemed like you’d just have to know where you were going. Technically, you’re allowed to drive yourself without a guide, but I’m not sure how anyone actually does it because it’s so easy to get lost. And since you need to make all your hotel and resort reservations in advance, you can’t just wing it to figure out where to stay based on how much distance you can cover each day — showing up to a safari camp without a reservation is not a great idea.

The drive took about four hours, passing Maasai villages on hillside as we skirted the crater’s rim. Eventually, we arrived at Entamanu Camp, our first hotel of the trip. Anyone thinking that safaris still mean camping in wind-rattled tents has never seen a place like Entamanu Camp. The cozy cottage felt like I was staying at a cousin’s lake house, if that lake house had near-panoramic views of the natural scenery. And this isn’t camp dining — the food was fantastic and we certainly didn’t go hungry.

“More steak?” the waiter asked us at dinner, when he noticed we’d devoured our steak tips in record time.

“Sure, why not?” we replied.

He gave us a knowing smile, disappeared into the kitchen, and returned 10 minutes later with a massive tray of steak fillets.

Praising a hotel’s hospitality has become cliche. They’re in the hospitality industry — of course they’re hospitable. But the team went above and beyond, and we joked that they felt like doting mothers trying to fatten you up with food and affection.

“You are welcome,” the staff say upon arrival, upon your return from safari, when you sit down to dinner, and pretty much whenever else they cross your path. It means, quite literally, “you are welcome here.”

Entamanu Camp, as well as the others we visited, are camps owned by Nomad, a safari company that partners with Unforgettable Travel. Between arriving at the camp and spending time with Geoffrey, it was clear after just one day that warmth and friendliness are two staples of the Nomad experience.

 

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Our first morning, we woke up bright and early – or, more accurately, dark and early, as our game drive began just before 6 AM. Ngorongoro Crater is the world’s largest intact volcanic caldera, and known by some as the “Eighth Wonder of the World.” It’s also a protected area within Tanzania, and a UNESCO World Heritage Site, and home to more 26,000 large mammals and 500 bird species.

If you’ve always wondered if The Lion King was based on a true story, visiting Ngorongoro will dispel any doubts. Zebras, elephants, rhinos, antelopes, and flamingos live alongside one another in relative harmony on the vast grasslands. Baboons make their home in the forest trees, while hippos lord over the lakes. And in true Lion King, it didn’t take long to witness a drama unfold between lions and hyenas as they vied for the same wildebeest kill.

As we watched the animals go by, I kept thinking that it felt like a Garden of Eden, but without the humans — which is probably for the best.

The southern Serengeti

After visiting the Ngorongoro Conservation Area, safari-goers would typically fly from a nearby airstrip to somewhere within Serengeti National Park. But because we’d chosen to take a Tanzania road trip, we instead embarked on a five-hour road trip to the southern part of the Serengeti through a variety of diverse landscapes.

Leaving the Ngorongoro area, we passed through lush hills home to scores of Maasai villages. Maasai men worked in the fields, while women impressively balanced baskets of fruit on their heads. One school-aged girl, with elaborate handcrafted earrings and a bag slung across her back, walked through the tall grass between a group of giraffes and zebras, paying them no more attention than if they had been squirrels. This brief window into daily life in the Serengeti instantly made me thankful we had driven instead of flown.

A few more hours of bumping along under forested canopies and muddy plains, and we were knocking on the door of the southern part of the Serengeti. The plains are almost completely flat, with acacia trees dotting the misty horizon. The region’s famous wildebeest migration starts from this region in July, and it was only January, so there were still hundreds of wildebeests milling around in giant herds.

On the way, in one particularly muddy stretch, our car lurched and stopped, tires stuck in the mud. Looking ahead, we saw that rain from the night before was making the road ahead of us look a little dicey. But it was no problem for Geoffrey, who grabbed a machete from under his seat, and ran off to find an alternate path, in a truly Indiana Jones-esque move.

My friend and I poked our heads through the sunroof, and were astonished by the sheer flatness of the plains around us. We saw no mountains, no bodies of water, and no other cars in any direction. Just Geoffrey on a solitary trek through the tall grass and a distant herd of wildebeest, all marching single-file toward their next watering hole, their backs tinged orange by the setting sun.

Geoffrey eventually did find an alternate route, and we backed up, changed direction, and soon arrived at the Serengeti Safari Camp. Rooms at the resort are sturdy canvas tents without any frills or luxuries, but everything you need for a comfortable stay.

“You are welcome,” we heard again and again when we arrived. We would become quite close to the staff here, thanks to an innovative feat of bush engineering: the bucket shower. Because Serengeti Safari Camp is a mobile camp, moving with the wildebeest as they migrate, there’s no permanent plumbing. Instead, guests inform the staff when they’d like to shower, and a team member will fill a bucket with heated water, hoist it into position, and refill it as needed while you pull levers to activate the water flow. It’s not as weird as it sounds, though calling out instructions to a random guy while showering does take some getting used to.

Showers aside, everything in the tent is what you’d expect from a normal hotel room. My favorite part of staying at a rustic camp like this was feeling closer to nature. You can hear lions roaring in the night (hence the guards with spears who keep watch during the night), and we even saw an elephant casually stroll past the front opening of our tent. It was like a little amuse-bouche — a prelude to the safari to get us excited for what was to come.

“The animals always have their own story,” Geoffrey told us the next day on safari, as he stopped our vehicle beside a small pack of lions, feasting on a dead wildebeest. “You never know what they will be doing.”

Sure, Geoffrey was explaining to us why he loves his job — but it really did seem like he always knew what the animals would be doing.

“Watch the hyenas on the ridge,” he said. “They will wait for the lions to finish, then come in and finish the meat. They are scavengers.”

Sure enough, the hyenas eyed the lions below, waiting somewhat impatiently for them to fill their bellies. There were four lions, and about seven hyenas.

“Will they attack?” I asked, eager for some action.

“They are thinking about it,” Geoffrey answered, “but probably not. There are too few of them, and too many lions.”

For at least 45 minutes we watched the scene unfold, lions feasting on the wildebeest while the hyenas circled and waited. Eventually the lions cleared out, and as Geoffrey had predicted, the hyenas descended on the remains.

Watching lions eat a wildebeest might not sound too thrilling, but the social dynamics at play – between the lions and hyenas, and within the groups themselves – were fascinating. We hadn’t exactly witnessed a Lion King-esque war between lions and hyenas, but it still felt like we’d been privy to something special.

Driving to the northern Serengeti

Two bucket showers later, we started our long drive to the Northern Serengeti. The safari vehicle had become our home away from home, more so than the camps. Nomad had stocked it with a cooler containing our drinks of choice (orange juice and Coke Zero), as well as Pringle containers that were vanishing quicker than a zebra being devoured by a pack of hyenas.

Thanks to these little luxuries, the six-plus hour drive north through the mountains felt more like traveling in a mobile apartment than a cramped car. It also helped that Nomad provided picnic lunches and breakfasts for our days on the road, or while we were on safari. The breakfasts were particularly sumptuous, and in the mornings, we’d stop at picnic sites with fabulous Serengeti views to dig into the overpacked boxes.

The drive necessitated a lengthy climb over the mountains, down uneven crags, and through muddy fields, all of which Geoffrey was able to navigate far better than I would have. Eventually, we entered the Northern Serengeti, and the landscape changed. Endless flatlands were exchanged for hills covered in tall grass, and rock formations resembling Pride Rock dotted the area.

Lamai Camp is a masterclass in architecture, sitting atop a hill overlooking the northern Serengeti. On arrival, we were led down a tree-lined dirt path to a Maasai-inspired building that revealed panoramic views of the Serengeti and Mara River as we walked further in. This main building and the camp rooms were built with locally sourced materials using methods unique and authentic to Maasai tradition. The main building and cottages feel both luxurious and organic, achieving an aesthetic authentic to the area’s Maasai roots.

Technically, you could get the experience of being on safari just by sitting on your private wrap-around porch. I could have spent all day overlooking the plains, spotting elephants breaking down tree branches with their trunks, baboons chattering in the brush, and wildebeests marching toward the river. But without Geoffrey, our private wildlife encyclopedia, much would have been missed.

Most notably, while driving through a field of antelopes, a bird call rang out from somewhere in the trees, and Geoffrey abruptly stopped the car.

“Watch,” he said. “The bird is alerting the antelopes that there is a predator close by. Maybe a leopard.”

The herd of antelopes stood at attention, watching the grass silently, fearfully. All at once, they suddenly bounded away for higher ground.

“See? In the grass?”

Sure enough, a leopard lay in the grass. Foiled in his pursuit by the bird call, it slinked away to find other prey. It was yet another example not only of Geoffrey’s impressive knowledge, but of the subtle dramas playing out between the animals all around us, and the way they communicate and collaborate much as humans do.

The last leg of our Tanzania road trip actually wasn’t on the road — we took a two-hour bush plane flight from a nearby airstrip to Arusha for our international flight home. It was fascinating to have a bird’s-eye view of the sprawling landscape, but also made me thankful for spending the last week on the ground, getting a slower, more in-depth look at the landscapes, towns, valleys, and rolling hills of the Serengeti. Yes, driving was slower, and it’s easy to get impatient. But it’s also a chance to experience the full range of the Serengeti — not just for its myriad flora and fauna, but for its muddy roads, mountain passes, lush forests, and small, traditional communities.

Saying goodbye to Geoffrey on the landing strip felt surreal. He had been our window into the complexities of the animal kingdom for the last week, and guided us safely and skillfully across dicey roads and terrain. He’d also put up with our loud American humor and entertained our stupid questions, always with a genuine smile on his face. It felt surprisingly sad to say goodbye to him after how much we’d come to enjoy and appreciate him over the last week. How do you say goodbye to someone like that, knowing you’ll likely never see him again?

“I’ll admit, at first I didn’t want a guide at all,” I told him. “I was worried we’d feel like spectators at a zoo, and it wouldn’t be authentic. But you gave us the best of both worlds – like we were actually part of the animal kingdom. Thank you.”

Ever shy, Geoffrey just looked at the plane, then back at us, and hugged us both.

“You are welcome,” he said.