'The Lion King makes more sense now' – Levison Wood on a wildlife quest in Kenya
I was less than a mile from the finish line when I saw it: a grizzly-looking Cape buffalo just a couple of yards off the dirt track I was running along. Africa’s most unpredictable predator flared its nostrils, slowly shifting its weight from one leg to the other – all 1,500lb of it. I glanced back to see if any other runners had seen it, only to find that everyone had their heads down.
I had entered the Safaricom Marathon, which weaves through the bush in the Lewa Conservancy in Kenya and is organised by African conservation charity Tusk. Though I’m not really a runner myself, I’d always fancied the idea of a race that passed through the grasses of the savannah alongside rhinos, hippos and lions. However, erring on the side of caution (and having done zero training), I opted, like most of the 1,600 other participants, for the half marathon version, which at an altitude of 5,900ft was still not easy.
As I wondered whether the buffalo would show any aggression, I heard the reassuring whirr of a spotter helicopter above me, responsible for scanning the course for any angry animal that might take umbrage at the stream of people running through its home. A herd of Thomson’s gazelle scattered ahead, kicking up dusty red earth in their wake. In the distance I could make out the silhouette of a giraffe cantering across our path. I powered on, trying to keep a steady pace and ignore the fact that I now had my back to one of Africa’s big five. Thankfully, it had no interest in me and it wasn’t long before I crossed the finish line.
After a rubdown and a welcome beer, I was keen to see all the hard work that Tusk had been doing in the region – where the £5.5 million raised from the marathon since the inaugural run in 1990 goes to community and conservation projects.
Lewa is known for its thriving population of more than 80 rhinos. Over the next two days I took several game drives from Lewa Safari Camp, encountering dozens of them. Despite their bulk, they’re generally passive creatures and were quite happy to let us come close and watch them nuzzling the ground. I also witnessed a herd of 20 elephants marching across the savannah in a perfect line. A few tiny babies were lolloping under their mother’s feet, barely able to hold their trunks up properly yet. Grebes gathered at a spring, part of a sustainable water network for the people and animals of Lewa, made possible from marathon funds. Colobus monkeys swung from tree to tree, hippos splashed and wallowed in the shallows of the rivers and rare Grévy’s zebras trotted gracefully across the plains. Above, eagles and buzzards soared. Everything was green after weeks of welcome rain and the air was fragrant with the aroma of wild flowers. It was the Africa of my dreams, and after just a couple of days I’d seen three of the big five.
But what I really wanted, above all, was to see lions. Ever since I was a young boy I’ve had a fascination with the big cats. The first time I came to Kenya was as a very lucky 12-year-old in 1994. It was the perfect age for a first safari; I was old enough, adventurous enough and patient enough to enjoy it properly and when we got to see a family of lion cubs play-fighting I was transfixed. When I grew up I discovered that Lev means lion in the Slavic languages; ever since, I’ve felt the need to fight their corner. The plight of elephants and the ivory trade gets increasing global air time – rightly so – but lions are often forgotten. A century ago, 200,000 of them roamed Africa’s plains; now there are just 25,000 left in the wild. That’s fewer lions than there are rhinos.
I didn’t find what I was looking for at Lewa Safari Camp, so hoped that I’d have more luck in Ol Lentille conservancy, a community-owned reserve north-west of Lewa. Here I met a Maasai tribesman named Boni, who would be my guide and raconteur for my stay. Traditionally Maasai have killed lions as a rite of passage, and in recent times have been responsible for much slaughter as human-wildlife conflict escalates due to rising birth rates and overpopulation in tribal villages. “When a lion eats a cow from a Maasai herd,” said Boni, as we walked through the bush, “it’s understandable that the tribe wants revenge, but often it’s taken to the extreme. Livestock carcasses get poisoned and entire prides are wiped out.
“We need to educate people to realise that the wildlife is our business. If we go around killing them, then no tourists will come any more and that will be the end of the Maasai.”
Over the next couple of days, Boni took me on safaris in every imaginable form: on foot, by quad bike and even by camel. He took me to incredible picnic spots with panoramic views out over the Great Rift Valley and he taught me the nickname for warthogs (pumba, which is Swahili for stupid – The Lion King was making more sense now). He showed me how to track leopard prints and showed me the white egrets that hitch a ride on elephants’ backs and clean the insects off their hides.
The views out over the rolling plains of Laikipia from my hillside villa tempted me to stay in idle bliss, but I was on a lion-spotting quest, so I moved on in search of the elusive cats.
Borana conservancy was my final destination and my last chance to see lions before the week was out. I was going out on patrol with those who know the park most intimately, the anti-poaching rangers that guard the conservancy. These stern-looking men were armed to the teeth, carrying enormous rucksacks full of equipment to guard them against the enemy. Poachers tend to have as few qualms about shooting humans as they do animals and being a ranger is a dangerous job.
As we rumbled along, one fresh-faced ranger told me that lions are rarely poached in the same way that elephants and rhinos are. They are more likely to be caught in the overpopulation crossfire, swallowing poison or getting caught in snares set out for bushmeat. Here in Borana, Tusk has assisted local communities with fencing to protect private land and livestock, which in turn protects the lions as it prevents them from the temptation to munch on a cow or two.
The rangers had advised me that there was a really special way of spotting wildlife in Borana: by horseback safari. Being on horseback provides a chance to get up close and personal with the wildlife because they can’t tell you’re a human when you’re in the saddle. Sure enough, we spent a magical morning out cantering, getting just a few yards away from the rhinos and elephants. Without the thundering of a Jeep engine I could hear so much more and I felt more attuned to the movements and sounds of the outdoors. But even this enchanting experience proved fruitless when it came to lion: they’re far too wily to let horses get close, and in any case a horse probably wouldn’t fancy getting too close to a lion.
On my last day in the bush I met up with lion expert Dr Alayne Cotterill and she agreed to take me out on a final game drive before my flight home. We set off, planning to use the tracking device in order to find the collared lions that Dr Cotterill studies. Then, just a mile outside the gates of the lodge the magic of African serendipity took its usual course. Not more than a few feet away from us, snoozing in the open plain, was a male lion. He was sprawled out with his vast paws splayed and a majestic black mane fluttering as the wind blew over the plains. Next to him a lioness was sleeping soundly. We got as close as possible and settled in to observe them. Soon enough she woke up and began to roar and bite at her companion, nuzzling and licking him. He awoke, bellowed out a noisy roar and soon they were mating. It didn’t last long – a triumphant eight seconds and they were done – but Dr Cotterill informed me that they can mate as often as every 15 minutes when the lionesses are on heat.
Satisfied that I’d finished the week on a high and that Simba was doing his bit for the future of lion-kind, we turned the Jeep around to begin the bumpy drive back. We crested the lip of a ridge only to find yet more lions just a few feet away. There were two mothers and a beautiful cub scampering around in the grass beneath the setting sun. His downy hair was a bright gold, with pale paws that were big and puffy, waiting to be grown into. The cub rolled around, trying to bite his mother’s tail and falling over when he missed his target. He scuffled and pounced and nibbled, vying for the attention of the grown-ups until he was tired. Then he snuggled up close to the mother’s neck, his ears upright and bright eyes alert, watching me, perhaps trying to work out if I was friend or foe.
How to do it
Levison Wood visited Kenya with Journeysmiths. A seven-night stay, including flights from the UK, and stays at Lewa Safari camp, Ol Lentille and Borana Lodge costs from £6,513 per person.
More information
For more information on the Tusk trust and Safaricom Marathon visit tusk.org. Levison Wood will be speaking at an event in aid of Tusk at Cadogan Hall in London on Jan 23. Tickets from tusk.org/levisonwood2019
