By Neal Talbot
NGORONGORO CRATER, TANZANIA – The thick underbrush ahead shakes in terror, before violently parting, and revealing the true king of the jungle — the African Bull Elephant. The sheer size of the animal is imposing. Eight feet tall, 15 feet long, tipping the scales at 11,000 pounds, with skin thick as armour and two ivory tusks gleaming threateningly in the last traces of afternoon sun.
Our tour guide, Manual, tells us this elephant is only one of 40,000 animals that call Tanzania’s Ngorongoro Crater home, but easily it’s largest and most devastating. As everyone turns to question his use of “devastating,” the safari veteran confirms our greatest fears; the elephant could tip the Landcruiser over without breaking a sweat, tear the side off with a single swipe of its tusks or simply crush us with its weight. All things he swears have happened before.
The goosebumps and sense of awe one gets from seeing such an animal for the first time is quickly replaced by an uncomfortable cold sweat and tinge of fear. As someone breaks out their wildlife guide, perhaps to make sure the elephant is indeed an herbivore, Manual lets out a calming laugh and smiles at us.
The elephant seems to act on cue, as it casually walks to the edge of the road and begins tearing leaves off a nearby acacia tree, completely indifferent to our presence. Discounting our guide’s tales of terror, everyone begins snapping photos of the gentle giant, marvelling at its ability to ingest the inch-long acacia thorns that accompany the soft leaves.
But just as someone mentions how the elephant’s skin is in serious need of wrinkle cream, its huge grey ears suddenly snap to attention, as if plucking the words out of the air. The massive monster freezes, before slowly turning to stare at us.
Then it does the unthinkable. The elephant starts walking towards us. Unable to pull the truck into reverse without angering the animal further, our guide whispers, “Don’t move. Don’t make a sound.” His tone is serious and scared. His smile is gone. We become statues.
As the elephant reaches the front of the vehicle its friendly stare now seems menacing, as if picking out who’s to be the first victim. But it bypasses the hood and begins moving alongside the vehicle.
The beast is so close, its skin rubs sharply against the metal of the vehicle, giving off an unnerving screech. I start thinking about the best way to survive a roll-over, if I can outrun an elephant, and what to do if I come across a pack of lions during my escape. Crazy things. My heart nearly stops as I accidentally push the button on my digital camera.
The elephant stops, pausing to look in my window. It reminds me of the Tyrannosaurus Rex scene from Jurassic Park. I hope for better results.
Our frightening staring contest, which seems to go on for minutes, is only broken when a startling exhale fogs the window beside me. My heart skips a beat, and then begins to beat in my ears. Having proven its dominance, the elephant moves past my window and to the rear of the vehicle.
Suddenly the world starts to shake, the metal springs of the Landcruiser groaning in agony. Without warning Manual slams the gas pedal to the floor and we leave the beast behind in a cloud of dust.
A bugle of anger explodes from behind us. I don’t look back.
The Landcruiser stops at distant pullout beside another car of tourists who watched the whole event unfold. They tell us they wish they could have got that close and laugh at our predicament, telling us the elephant was actually itching its backside on the corner of the vehicle when we fled.
But the looks on the guides’ faces told a different story — one of amazement and fear. Even for them, the crater still holds surprises.
A caldera of wildlife
The Ngorongoro Crater is regarded by many as the eighth wonder of the world and the crown jewel of Africa. Once a volcano larger than nearby Mount Kilimanjaro, it is now the largest unbroken caldera (collapsed volcanic cone) in the world and one of Africa’s most animal-rich areas.
Africa is filled with breathtaking game reserves, but the Ngorongoro’s unique mix of geography and wildlife saw it declared a conservation area in 1959 and a UNESCO World Heritage site in 1979. The crater has captured the world’s imagination — unspoiled by the presence of mankind, seemingly untouched by time and capped with a view guaranteed to take one’s breath away.
From the crater rim, which towers 600 metres above the 20-km wide crater floor, visitors can easily spot the main habitat areas — Gorigor Swamp, Lake Magadi, Lerai Forest, and the open plains. But only once you descend the only road into the crater, do these habitats explode with wildlife.
The crater’s 120 kilometres of winding roads take visitors through the towering fever trees of the Lerai Forest to search for vervet monkeys, olive baboons, elephants, elands, bushbucks and waterbucks. On the forest outskirts, black rhinos can be found browsing on shrubby vegetation.
From afar, Lake Magadi appears to have a pink lining thanks to thousands of flamingos fishing its edges. Storks, kingfishers, hawks and colourful water birds also crowd the shoreline and aren’t wary of photographers.
Huge groups of hippopotamus socialize in swamps in the north-west and the south-east of the crater. And the plain’s grasslands supports grazing wildbeest, zebra, Thomson's gazelle and water buffalo.
The crater also has the highest density of predators in Africa and provides one of the best opportunities to see them in action. More than 400 lions and spotted hyenas live within the crater, cheetahs are regularly seen, as are leopards, which are found along the forest rim.
Even when you turn in after a long day to one of the five lodges or the campsite placed on the crater rim you can still keep tabs on the wilderness through powerful binoculars and telescopes. And if you keep your eyes glued to the crater floor long enough, it’s bound to hold surprises for you.
