We are walked across the tarmac to our Precision Air plane, which has propellers. I’m interested to see from the in-flight magazine that its CEO is female and there’s a profile of a female pilot, too. To land at Kilimanjaro airport involves flying past the mountain but unfortunately we are seated on the right and Kili is on the left. We get a tantalising glimpse past our fellow fliers. I notice a round rainbow on the clouds and as we get closer to them I can see the silhouette of our plane in the centre. Below the clouds, I can see the round bomas where the Maasai live, their cattle still penned for the night.
We walk to the small terminal building past a health
official who barely glances at our yellow fever certificates and directed to
fill in forms that repeat all the information we provided for our Tanzanian
visa applications in London. We present these to the immigration official and
have our fingerprints scanned, by which time our baggage is ready to collect.
The Explore rep directs us to a minibus – we are arriving separately to the rest
of the group so we have it to ourselves.
It takes about an hour to reach the Kilemakyaro Mountain
Lodge. Our driver asks if we have visited before and when I say I did 30 years
or so ago, he says I will notice many changes. At first glance, this doesn’t
seem to be the case – the Maasai are still herding their cattle, women are
still carrying unfeasibly large loads on their heads and in towns and villages
the road is lined with ramshackle stalls. I notice that many of them advertise
m-pesa, the mobile phone banking service that has been widely adopted in East
Africa – that certainly is new. Some of the stalls have grandiose names – like
the calor gas stall called Glorious Luminosity. There are few vehicles but many
motorbikes, which our driver says act as taxis. There are large sheets on which
millet has been spread to dry – this apparently is destined for making local
liquor.
Our lodge is at the end of a red dirt track and is gated,
with immaculately kept gardens where cattle graze and a flock of turkeys roam
around like teenagers looking for trouble. Accommodation is in rondavel
bungalows with four-poster mosquito netted beds and a verandah - ours would
have overlooked Kilimanjaro if it wasn’t shrouded by clouds. There’s a snail of
impressive proportions on our verandah and skinks scuttle around the rocks on the
path. We’re offered breakfast (it’s mid-morning) and notice a group of 5 at
another table which we guess is part of our group – this is confirmed when
Sharon comes over and introduces herself. We have a nap before lunch and I
choose local fish with cassava. I’m surprised when the waiter comes over with a
jug and bowl to wash my hands so that I can eat with them.
The final family in our group arrives after lunch and around
4pm we are taken for a walk around the coffee plantation that surrounds the
lodge. Along the way we begin to get to know our fellow travellers – the
Batleys have a son and two daughters, the Georges two daughters. All the
offspring are in their teens. For dinner, a table is laid for us in the garden
compete with candles; food is buffet style. We chat as we eat, but we’re all a
bit sleep deprived and nobody has the energy to be very sociable.
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