Loyk Mara: Jewel in the wild

It was day two of our tour of the Mara, and this time, Loyk Mara would be our home for the night. The previous day, our small team had scoured the length and breadth of Mara Enkaji with its sustainable setup. What surprises would Loyk throw our way? 

After a hearty English breakfast at Enkaji, we hit the road. Before detouring on a dusty and uneven road towards Talek, we made a brief stop at Sekenani, the main gate to Maasai Mara National Reserve.

Here, tourist vans parked by the big entrance, the occupants eager for a game drive in the world-renowned wildlife reserve. For some, it was their first time being so close to Africa’s famed wildlife, and they could hardly hide their excitement.

Local curio vendors jostled around the vehicles, hoping to get that extra coin in exchange for an artefact or two. None in our vehicle seemed interested in any purchase. The vendors left with the hope that tomorrow will have better tidings.

The route to Loyk Mara runs parallel to the Talek River. It is a dusty stretch during the dry season, and it can also turn into some soggy puddle during the rains.

The heavens had not fully opened up as they have now, but the mini gulleys still made for a rough ride.

Then there is Talek, the town on the periphery of the reserve and a nerve centre of the social life for the locals. Together with Sekenani and Mara Rianta, Talek’s phenomenal growth in the middle of a global conservation area is a cause for worry to conservationists.

Talek looks like a chaotic village, the bad boy of the Mara ecosystem but one you cannot do without. If you ever ran some car trouble around this part of the Mara, Talek is the place to go for repairs.

From Talek, the route climbs briefly before dropping towards the seasonal Ntiakitiak River. We stop briefly by the bridge to watch the wild antics of a school of hippos.

A giant male splashes dung over the waters with his short tail, a romantic gesture to attract the females and a reminder to the rest as to who owns that part of the real estate. The stench is unbearable, and we move on. Just before lunch hour, we check in at the camp located by the river. Here, 150 acres of private land bordering Olare Motorogi Conservancy and the national reserve have been converted into an exclusive and family-friendly tented camp.

We are met by Joel Memusi, the affable camp manager and a veteran of the local tourism industry. Memusi uses his good humour to put guests at ease, especially at the open camp where all 20 ensuite tents have been erected in the forested part frequented by buffaloes, lions and other animals.

“This is a camp where animals come to see you,” he tells the bemused visitors as he outlines the dos and don’ts, especially after dark: “Do not get out of your tent at nightfall but call for assistance should you desire to get to the reception area. No one has been dinner for the animals so far. Do not be the first one.”

Memusi has learnt the art of calming nerves among his guests. Security, he told us, is always tight: “My boys are always armed with the AK 41.” That is just another term for the spear!

At the expansive dining area, Joseph Kahumbu, the resident chef, whose magic has riveted the guests here for six years, was eager to showcase his craft: an à la carte menu comprising tender steak made to one’s preference, some steamed potatoes, and various vegetables grown in a nearby garden.

As the lunch progresses, we watch a storm gather in the distance. I have been caught up in these storms before, yet, with the sun hitting the plains on one side and the dark horizon on the opposite side, the storm was nothing short of cinematic, a raw sensory experience, beautiful, and humbling.

Seated at a set table under the vast sky, the warm, earthy scent of Maasailand mingled with the aroma of the grilled meats and freshly squeezed orange juice.

In the distance, the towering storm clouds gathered, steel grey, and rolled fast toward the camp like a moving stone wall. The winds shifted, rustling the acacia trees and shrubs near the camp.

The animals sensed it too—the banded mongooses scampered to the safety of their burrows, distant warthogs continued to nibble on the short grass unbothered, and a troop of baboons sauntered across the plains towards the thicket. I hurried to my tent for something warmer. The sky held much promise of a downpour. But it never came. Loyk has followed the local tradition of interfering little with nature.

My tent, the last one on the property, was set in a dense forest next to a seasonal stream. The bush became a theatre of sorts as one of the baboons we had spotted earlier grabbed a young gazelle from its mother and shred it to pieces.

Some in our team were surprised to learn that baboons are also meat-eaters and that they do hunt like the big cats. As the sun set, the team trekked towards a sundowner spot at one of the highest points near the camp. A hyena strutted by without care. Then the sky darkened once again with streaks of lightning crackling through the clouds.

- This is a partnership between Msafiri (www.msafiri.ke) and The Standard travel brand, Travelog.