During the drive from the Kichwa Tembo tented camp to the nearby air strip, the mood was subdued. No one had uttered more than a few words since boarding the Toyota Landrover, and each of us, thinking about our imminent trip out of Africa, wore inwardly reflective or forlorn expressions. This was the final time that we would cross these vast grassy plains of the Masai Mara; the last cool early morning drive past herds of buffalo, elephant, wildebeest and zebra.

Tail erect, a warthog scampered out of the way of the Landrover's wheels. A bit further along, a Cape buffalo stared at us, unimpressed by our position in the food chain, and then with a 'Go ahead, make my day' expression, tossed its head and sharp horns in defiance.

I really was going to miss all this.

The wind drifted down a little through the open top of the Landrover. I stood up in the opening, gripping the cross bar for support as the vehicle bumped its way across the savanna.

"I just have to do this one last time," I explained.

"I was just thinking the same thing," confessed my wife. Almost at once, the other three members of our party joined us, rising to feel the soft touch of the cool, morning breeze on our faces, and smell the fresh, clean scent of the tall yellow grass, as we motored past a panorama straight from Out of Africa .

In fact, this was part of the backdrop used in the movie. From just in front of our camp, we were able to gaze across at the escarpment used in the movie's famous burial scene. This was the Masai Mara, a seven hundred square mile portion of the Serengeti, situated along the southern border of Kenya with Tanzania. We had just spent two exhilarating weeks in the game reserves of Kenya, photographing everything imaginable, amazingly close-up from the safety of the Landrovers.

Safari is a Swahili word meaning journey. Kenya was the biggest trip I had ever made, in every sense of the word. It was the farthest east, the farthest south, the most distant, the most expensive and the trip for which I had held the greatest expectations. I had been to the continent of Africa twice before, but only to Morocco and Egypt. Such North African countries were in a whole different class. This trip to Kenya was intended to show off the Africa of childhood fantasies... Tarzan's Africa.

I could never understand the puzzlement of people who asked my wife and me why we would want to travel to Kenya. Who wouldn't want to go there? To me, the very word 'Africa' has always been synonymous with 'Adventure'.

Nairobi's Jomo Kenyatta International Airport reminded me of ones in Mexico and Central America. It took quite a long time to retrieve our baggage, and I was beginning to develop serious doubts about whether it may have accidentally been sent to an airport in Central America. It eventually turned up and we quickly made our way through passport control and customs.

Our Abercrombie & Kent guide, Ronnie Boy, and the drivers spotted us before we did them. I am sure we looked like quintessential tourists: most of us sporting khaki and olive drab clothing, Indiana Jones fedoras and Tilley safari hats. It took only a minute or two to verify that all 10 people booked on the tour and their baggage were present, then we were on our way to the hotel.

I have to admit that the drive from the airport into Nairobi and onward to the hotel altered my expectations for the remainder of the safari. Almost every picture I had seen of Nairobi's skyline featured a giraffe or cheetah on a grassy plain, obviously just a few miles from the city. Such reality indeed exists, but only if you happen to be standing inside Nairobi National Park. The only animals we saw en route to the hotel were two dead monkeys on the road and a small herd of goats. I had read that large wildlife now is to be found only within the game reserves, but nonetheless I had a pre-formed image of an occasional antelope or zebra spotting the landscape. Later into the safari, when we headed south, I did see a couple of such animals from the road.

Even though the vast majority of the country is now devoid of wildlife, most of Kenya's game reserves are as large in area as counties, or in the case of Tsavo National Reserve (8000 square miles), nearly as large as the state of Massachusetts. The animals in these reserves still live a daily life-and-death existence, and the numerous skeletal remains of zebra, wildebeest and occasional elephant bones quickly reminded us exactly where we were. These are not big open air zoos or tourist drive-throughs like the San Diego or Dallas wildlife parks. The smallest of the game reserves we visited, called Samburu, was 187 square miles of territory. The Masai Mara occupies just the northern most tip of the vast Serengeti National Park extending deep into neighboring Tanzania. Of the others we visited, Aberdares National Reserve is 230 square miles, and Amboseli is about 200 square miles. In all, there are 48 national parks and reserves in Kenya.

Our first safari destination upon leaving Nairobi was "The Ark." This elevated lodge is nestled in the middle of the Aberdares mountains and forests, and like the similarly famous and nearby Treetops Lodge, is built immediately adjacent to a natural salt lick. The animals come here for the minerals in the mud and because the lodge has been there for several years, don't appear particularly to notice the structure or its inhabitants. Unless, that is, there is a sudden movement or loud noise from the large balcony, which sometimes sends even the elephants scurrying. Ever seen an elephant scurry? Guests at the Ark may even turn on a switch for a night buzzer that is rung whenever something deemed interesting approaches the salt lick.

Most of the speaking that is done at the Ark is just above a whisper. Guests are requested to keep their voices very low, move slowly when on the viewing balcony, and to wear neutral colors throughout the safari. Bright colors and even solid white can sometimes startle an animal and send it rushing for cover.

We arrived at the Ark at about three o'clock in the afternoon and took only a few moments to find our way to the main viewing area. Nothing was at the salt lick at the moment, but it wasn't long before a lone elephant appeared at the edge of the forest and slowly lumbered up to the lick. A bit later, a single male lion crossed the outer periphery of the clearing around the salt lick but never approached very close. Unfortunately, this was the only lion we saw during our short stay at the Ark.

Sometime around five o'clock in the afternoon, a herd of 21 elephants, including 3 babies, emerged from the forest and worked their way down to the salt lick. The interaction of the elephants with one another was amusing to watch. The younger ones pushed and played much like adolescent children, while others occasionally struck comical poses or scratched their behinds on a boulder. One or two "teenagers" charged any antelope or buffalo that wanted to share the salt lick, and another kept trying to step on a pigeon that would fly just out of range each time. This group of elephants remained at the lick until past 10 p.m., when most of us retired to our rooms or to bed to wait for the buzzer signaling something new.

The first buzzer wasn't until just after 1 a.m. and turned out to be a premature warning. A rhinoceros had been spotted approaching the lick, but between the sounding of the buzzer and the sudden stampede of 40 lodge guests onto the balcony, the rhino had predictably sought anonymity in the darkened recesses of the forest.

The next buzzer sounded around 2:15 a.m. and heralded a large herd of Cape buffalo. Far fewer tourists found their way to the balcony this time, and during subsequent notices thoroughout the wee hours of morning. As for myself, I didn't sleep a minute more the entire night, but wandered back and forth from the balcony and the other four vantage points of the Ark.

At 3 a.m. or thereabouts, I went to the balcony for a quick check of anything new around the lick. Here I learned never, NEVER, to be anywhere on safari without a camera. Only one other person was on the balcony. It gets down to 40 degrees Fahrenheit or cooler in June in the Aberdares, and people become too chilled to stay outside all evening. Strolling to one side of the balcony, where I had seen nothing all evening, I could scarcely believe my eyes upon staring into the equally startled face of a large male leopard.

This gorgeous creature was sitting fully illuminated beneath the lodge's floodlights in an open grassy area less than forty feet from where I stood. I confess that for one brief instant the question crossed my mind whether, should it so choose, the leopard might reach and scale the balcony with greater speed than I might retreat to the door. I quietly but quickly returned to my room, snatched up my camera and hurried back outside, waking Robin with an urgent advisement: "Leopard!"

By the time I made back to the balcony rail, the leopard had moved, stalking a small bushbuck in the nearby bushes. I had time to snap only two blurry photos, before the jungle cat disappeared into darkness, not to reappear. The watchman, meanwhile alerted to the leopard's presence by my frantic retreat and reappearance, had sounded the buzzer, but only the quick caught any glimpse of the leopard. For those fortunate few, this was probably their only sighting of these very reclusive cats during their entire safari.

The buzzer sounded later for a lone rhinoceros, which another group of elephants didn't seem to want around. A couple of the younger elephants quickly chased the rhinoceros into the back of the clearing and the darkness. Those rising for that buzzer also were treated to a sighting of a giant forest hog, which poked its snout around in the mud at the outskirts of the lick.

The only other alarm sounded around 4:30 a.m. for a group of three black rhinoceros. Either two of these stayed near the salt lick throughout the morning, or two others came in around breakfast time, so almost everyone was able to see these. This was fortunate, because we saw no more of the seriously endangered rhinos during the remainder of the trip.

Shortly after breakfast, the resident naturalist, called "the Hunter," guided the lodge residents back along the elevated walkway to the road and our waiting vehicles. We were impressed with our first two days of the trip, and with a good deal of optimism, we began our third day and the safari's continuation onward to Samburu country.

Until now, we had been in Nairobi and the Aberdares, in Kikuyuland. The Kikuyu tribe is the largest of the native Kenyan tribes, and is the tribe befriended by Karen in the movie Out of Africa . We had heard reports that the Kikuyu very recently had conducted large scale massacres of entire villages of smaller tribes in the Rift Valley, and these reports were confirmed by Ronnie and others, (though the casualties, perhaps as many as 2,000, and certainly a dreadful occurrence, were far less than the news reports of 20,000 or more given by the U.S. news media). Africa is only a very recently "settled" continent. As recently as 1892, British expeditions to explore the interior of Kenya were being attacked and repelled by spear-toting Masai warriors. The tribes here have warred against one another for centuries, and civilization does not occur overnight, nor as we know automatically end inter-ethnic violence. While no one especially wishes to be exposed to unnecessary dangers, if Kenya were as safe and civilized as home, I probably never would have wanted to go there in the first place.

The road to Samburu was paved for about 250 fifty miles outside Nairobi. Nairobi lies south of the equator, and we crossed north of the line en route to Samburu. Just before the paved road ended, we entered the town of Isiolo. I had read that this is a good place to find local crafts, and the town is referred to as the "Pearl of the North." We were all very happy to remain in the safari van while refueling. This was the only place where we were harassed by the natives when we showed no interest in their wares. Our guide strongly cautioned us against taking photos in and around Isiolo, warning that in response one of the natives in all probability would throw a rock or even a spear at the vehicle. The road from Isiolo to the Samburu reserve was a dirt road of not particularly good condition. Every now and then as we neared the reserve we would pass a Samburu tribesman carrying a spear or club. The Samburu, like the Masai, still wear native garb, usually a red colored cloak gathered over one shoulder, and most wore intricate beaded necklaces and armbands.

Although the distances we had to travel on these dirt roads was usually 50 to 90 miles, it was frequently slow going, due to the roughness of the road and holes, ruts, or rocks to be avoided. We arrived at Samburu Serena Lodge just before lunch and were welcomed by a waiter carrying a tray of glasses containing chilled passion fruit juice. The accommodations here consisted of cabins, replete with mosquito netting over the beds. We used the netting more for mood setting, than out of necessity. We were never bother by insects during our entire trip.

Vervet monkeys abound in great numbers at Samburu, and many congregate around the lodges, boldly stealing food from the guests' plates or any other item such as hats or purses left unattended. For this purpose, a Samburu native is employed as the "monkey bouncer." Armed with a club and a slingshot, the monkey bouncer's sole job is to ensure that the monkeys do not become too pesky. Our personal experience was that this battle had not yet been won by either side and that neither had more of a decisive chance of prevailing than the other.

Samburu, like most of the reserves, does not allow off-road driving for game viewing. This is a bit droll, were it not so lamentable, because there are so many roads criss-crossing each other in Samburu that it is difficult to tell where there is not one. Because the park is small, very well known and the only place to see the reticulated giraffe and Grevy's zebra, it is apparently always crowded. At one point, while watching a solitary male lion, there were six-to-eight vehicles forming a circle around the lion. Had this been the trend versus the exception, the safari would have seemed a farce.

Later that day we came upon a small pride of lions finishing the remains of an oryx or sable antelope. It was difficult to say which, since only a very small piece of hide, the bare rib cage and the partially obscured horns were left. As we approached, a couple of the lions began to stalk a nearby herd of zebra. The zebra were quite aware of the lions' presence and promptly galloped off to a safer distance. Lions do almost all of their hunting at night, and we never witnessed a kill. Ronnie told us the animals sense this, and it isn't uncommon to see antelope or zebra in the same general vicinity of lions. Nonetheless, Ronnie added, if another animal were to get too close, a lion would kill it whether it was hungry or not. In Ronnie's words, "Lions don't like a cheeky zebra."

The harsh landscape of the Samburu reserve is dotted with huge termite mounds of hardened red clay and the desert rose, a shrub densely covered with beautiful red blossoms. We saw several species of wildlife during our three game drives there, including giraffe, zebra, lions, baboons, monkeys, Grant's gazelles, impala and ostrich.

One evening in Samburu I was photographing a large crocodile about four feet away but on the other side of the two feet high wall (and closer, by the way, to another meal- oh, I mean tourist...-than to me). This is the Samburu Serena Lodge's "Crocodile Bar." As we watched, a small domestic house cat from the lodge went down across the wall to feed on some table scraps discarded by the lodge staff to attract the crocodiles. We all leaned forward in anticipation of a remarkable photo opportunity, but the cat moved away when the crocodile shifted a little in that general direction.

At the end of our second day's game drive at Samburu, the guards at the entrance from our camp told our driver that a leopard had just appeared less than five minutes earlier, headed toward the river. We searched in vain for about 10 more minutes before heading into camp. About an hour later, as we sat in the lodge's covered bar, we got a very brief and distant view of the leopard across the river, as it approached to sniff, then ignore a piece of bait hung there for that purpose.

The next destination on our safari was Mount Kenya, back again to the south and on the equator. The area surrounding Mount Kenya seemed the most fertile of the country. Here we passed huge farms growing wheat, coffee, tea, and corn.

Only about 20 percent of the land in Kenya is considered fit for farming, so most of the population is found in dense concentrations, almost entirely within the 200-mile area around Nairobi. The countryside varies dramatically depending upon where you are. The Aberdares is lush, green rain forest with soil the same red color of Oklahoma clay and rolling hills somewhat reminiscent of the Ozarks. The Samburu countryside and the area around Amboseli looks a lot like the southwest corner of Oklahoma or West Texas, primarily sparse vegetation amid rocky fields. The Masai Mara, along Kenya's border with Tanzania, is beautiful grassland with a few acacia trees here and there and dense concentrations of taller jungle-looking trees lining the twisting Mara river, all set below scenic escarpments. Africa's two highest mountains are both visible from within Kenya. Mount Kilimanjaro is just 30 miles inside Tanzania, and rises 19,000 feet.. Mount Kenya is the second highest and postcard-scenic.

Our lodging at Mount Kenya was the world-renowned Mount Kenya Safari Club. Founded in 1956, by the late actor William Holden, this was included on the tour as a "back to civilization" break. Set at the base of Mount Kenya, the view is spectacular, with the sculpted grounds, greenery and flowery shrubs and majestic peak rising 17,000 feet. Surrounding the club is a 1,000-acre reserve, which our guide told us is being used aggressively by the government to educate the country's young as to the value of Kenya's wildlife. Also immediately adjacent to the club is the Mount Kenya Animal Orphanage. Here young ostriches follow you around as you visit a little with a baby Vervet monkey, or a giant tortoise, or Max, the Chimpanzee, to name a few. The intent, we were told, is to release the animals back into the wild whenever possible. My personal favorites were a couple of baby zebras, although one was more fond of me than the other, who kept me just out of petting reach.

The Mount Kenya Safari Club is located on the equator, and after the requisite photos next to a sign stating this fact, we continued south the next morning for our longest drive of the safari, about 300 miles along paved tarmac through Nairobi and onward south right up to the very gate of the Tanzanian border. Here we drove through a quintessential frontier border town and onto the most bone-rattling 68-mile dirt-and-rock road anywhere in either hemisphere, leading up to one of the two entrances to the Amboseli National Reserve.

Amboseli Reserve lies 30 miles from the base of Mount Kilimanjaro, an extinct volcano. Many of the postcards printed in Kenya feature a scene with an elephant or giraffe in the foreground and this massive mountain in the background. Unfortunately, the mountain is frequently obscured by clouds and no such photography was possible during our two days in Amboseli. Each reserve is unique, and while we saw absolutely no lions or cheetah or leopards here, the elephants were both larger and more numerous here than at Aberdares or Samburu. We saw our first wildebeest here as well, and in parts of the reserve we frequently would encounter vast numbers of these intermixed with zebra, giraffe, elephant and various antelope. This was very similar, we were told by our guide, to how he remembered the majority of Kenya in his younger years. I have, quite simply, never seen anything like it. It was incredible.

The Vervet monkeys were bolder here than anywhere. We chased one from our hut one morning and another from inside our safari van during a game drive. One of our group in the other vehicle tried to pet one of these pesky monkeys, when it pounced upon their van, and received a nasty bite between her thumb and forefinger.

The Masai still must water their cattle inside the Amboseli reserve, due to the lack of water in the surrounding area. Ronnie speculated that the lions recently had been pretty much poisoned off by the Masai to protect their cattle herds. He also said he hadn't seen a cheetah in Amboseli in three years.

On one side of the reserve a small, very shallow soda lake had formed recently, and one bank was always covered by hundreds of thousands of pink flamingos. A flock of perhaps a thousand or more took wing one afternoon as we were watching, imaginably impressive, as they flew closely past our vehicle.

Our accommodations here, the Amboseli Serena Lodge, were patterned to resemble Masai or Samburu huts. They were, of course, much more comfortable. Like all of the lodges and tented camps where we stayed, I thought this one was quite pleasingly unobtrusive, both to the animals and to the safari-goers.

The bumpy ride back out of Amboseli didn't seem quite as bad as the journey in. Our next stop was Nairobi, only a half day's drive. We lunched at the Carnivore Restaurant just outside Nairobi, where tourists and locals are offered all they can eat of crocodile, hartebeest, zebra or other exotic fare, or beef and chicken for the more timid adventurers.

After lunch, we boarded a small twin-engine plane at Nairobi's Wilson Airport and flew to the final reserve on our itinerary, the Masai Mara. The one-hour flight crossing the impressive Rift Valley passed quickly. Soon we landed at the airstrip just down from our tented camp, Kichwa Tembo. At first, I was a little amused to note that the landing site consisted solely of a leveled dirt strip. In retrospect, I wouldn't have it any other way. The less alteration, the better. Landrovers drive down the strip just prior to planes landing, to chase away lions that might be sunning in the middle of the strip, or to shoo off water buffalo that are too close.

Kichwa Tembo means Elephant Head in Swahili, and true to its name, an elephant skull rests next to the entrance to the camp. This is what the itineraries call a "luxury" tented camp. We definitely enjoyed the experience of spending the nights in tents, listening to the sounds of a herd of nearby Cape buffalo, the trumpeting of an elephant and the screech of a bushbaby in the trees above our tent. But, by the same token, we were not disappointed to have both an indoor shower and toilet, discreetly behind a flap at the back of the tent!

Our own tent was located at the most distant end of a foot path leading through the edge of the woods. A sign posted just a few feet away warned: Do Not Proceed Beyond This Point - Wild Animals! One of our safari companions had asked Shieni, our driver, if there were any snakes around here. He spooked us a bit by informing us that both the deadly black mamba and the spitting cobra were native to these parts. Ronnie, however, added that it is extremely rare to encounter snakes on safari, even outside the camps. We were a little disappointed, as we had wanted to see a giant python - from a distance, of course. We didn't mind missing the mamba and cobra.

The Mara quickly became our favorite stop on the safari, with its abundance of wildlife, particularly lions, elephants, zebras and hippopotamuses, the tall golden grassy plains and the bordering escarpments. More so than anywhere during the trip, we were enjoying acutely the realization that we were actually out on safari, away from anything and everything tedious or mundane.

The morning following our arrival in the Mara, we took a hot air balloon trip and floated across the treetops, river and savannah for about an hour. We crossed the winding Mara river several times during the flight and saw quite a few hippopotamuses from above. The few elephants which we flew over seemed to react with various levels of agitation, depending upon how closely we passed. Some just lifted their trunks and sniffed the air; another trumpeted and ran off. Apparently the fairly frequent roar of the flames disturbs the animals directly below the path of the balloon, since we were often flying relatively low over the ground.

I have never before been in a hot air balloon, and I always had assumed that after a flight the balloon sets back down neatly in an upright position. In actuality, the basket drags along the ground, then tips over on its side and after a few moments slides to a halt. Our pilot showed us the proper landing position (somewhat like the crash landing position for airliners) and warned us the ride could get a little rough if we were to hit a termite mound. The touchdown really turned out to be pretty smooth, and we weren't dragged very far. Landing in an open area beyond the actual reserve and just a few miles north of the Tanzanian border, we were met by the support vehicles and treated to a champagne breakfast out in the middle of the tall grassy savannah. Although we had flown past the edge of the reserve and really would not expect any of the few animals that might chance to be around the outskirts to approach our group of about 18 people, one of the Masai stood watch with a rifle, just in case.

During the game drives through the Mara, we saw lions, elephant, giraffe, hyena, gazelle, impala and herds of hundreds, perhaps thousands, of zebra. The annual migration had not yet reached the Masai Mara, so the grass was still high. I can only imagine the image the Mara presents when these plains are blanketed with the nearly two million wildebeest and thousands of zebra and other migrating animals. As it was, we became so accustomed to seeing zebra and wildebeest that, for several days after our return to Oklahoma, I would have to do a double-take when I caught a peripheral glimpse of a horse or cow along a rural road.

On the banks of the Mara river we occasionally dismounted from our Landrover to snap photos of groups of hippos and huge crocodiles. One monster had to have been nearly four feet wide, and we were told it was almost 20 feet long! Apparently during the migration, wildebeest jumping into the river break their legs by the hundreds and are vigorously fed upon by the crocodiles. We didn't see anything get eaten, although we watched in great anticipation as a crane walked up about three feet from a motionless crocodile on a sand bar. "This bird is in grave danger..." one of the Masai drivers told us solemnly.

We were able to watch the animals from outside the vehicle on only a very few occasions. Morefrequently, from the camps, which were very discreetly surrounded by an electric fence. Ronnie told us that until a little over a year ago, the Kichwa Tembo camp had offered an escorted walking tour down into a section of the reserve to the Mara river. Then one day, the guide, not paying close enough attention, failed to notice the proximity of a Cape buffalo and blundered too close. One of the tourists was killed, and three badly injured, putting an abrupt end to such walking tours.

By no stretch of the imagination are the safaris offered today anything like those in the earlier half of this century, when adventurers braved a lot more than bandits and malaria, and crossed the savannah on foot. But there is still enough of a thrill and inherent risk at the surprisingly close proximity of the Landrovers to the elephants and lions to stir the blood of most tourists, at least at little. (Most of us enjoy a little blood stirring; it's the blood letting we can do without).

Our last morning we really were intent on finding "Duma" (i.e.- cheetah), a wish we impressed upon our Masai driver, Shieni. We had seen only five so far, those being at the Samburu reserve, and from a bit of a distance. Luck favored us about an hour into the drive, and we came upon a female and two nearly full grown cubs. We watched and photographed these three for an hour, including an interlude with a pair of Cape buffalo, who were not in the least bit intimidated by the cheetahs.

Most of the still-dwindling wildlife population has been reduced due to loss of habitat as Kenya's population, one of the fastest increasing in the world, spreads across the country seeking land for farming and grazing of livestock. The elephant population of Kenya also has been drastically reduced by poachers. It must have been an incredible place at the turn of the century, because I was totally amazed by the number of elephants we saw during our trip in the 1990's. One afternoon, late in the safari, we counted 70 elephants within a radius of about five miles. Ronnie told us that the poaching of elephants in Kenya has come to a near halt since the international ban on ivory.

There are a lot of places we didn't get to see on this short safari, including the largest of Kenya's reserves, Tsavo, and Meru, or the Rift Valley reserves, Lake Victoria, or the coastal cities of Mombasa or Malindi. All that can really be hoped for, in any case, is a just a taste of the rich variety of Kenya's people, wildlife and countryside.

John Donne wrote, "...every man's death diminishes me." Likewise, as expressed by Chief Seattle, it seems innately true that the extinction of any animal species diminishes our own species. Anyone who ever has seen the Masai Mara must feel a deep loss, as did I, at the realization of what already has vanished irretrievably from the African jungles and savannahs.

Kenya was everything I had hoped it would be, but I wish it had remained unchanged.