Life goes on in the Land of The Lion King

Sprawled out on rocks lining the riverbank, a lioness and her cub are lazing in the sun. Only moments previously, we’d found two males (probably from the same pride) with bulging bellies, digesting the remains of a wildebeest they’d hunted down.

Everyone was enjoying a post-lunch siesta – even sleepier than usual in the absence of engines to disrupt their slumber.

As is the case with so many popular tourist destinations, coronavirus has decimated visitor numbers to the Masai Mara National Reserve.

Although authorities advise against visiting Kenya, it’s not forbidden; flights are operating from London Heathrow and safety protocols have been put in place. I weighed up the pros and cons, reaching the conclusion a two-week quarantine upon my return was a worthwhile sacrifice for experiencing what it’s like to safari right now.

Africa’s relatively low death rate in comparison to Europe continues to be one of the pandemic’s big mysteries. At Asilia’s Rekero Camp, scenically set along the Talek river, few members of staff know anyone who’s had Covid. Still, there are strict rules in place: any workers returning from leave must quarantine for 14 days, vehicles are fully sanitised and carry less passengers, and all guides wear masks.

Regardless, the fresh air and a sense of escapism quickly blew away any of my concerns.“the wildebeest crossings this year were fantastic,” explained camp manager Richard, as we sat on a wooden deck, watching crocs sunbathe on the granite rocks below.

After several months of closure, many of the Mara’s tracks have been reclaimed by grass and the sight of vehicles was a shock to some newborn jackal pups and lion cubs. But slowly, some sort of normality is resuming.

On one of my afternoon game drives, the sighting of a leopard brought an avalanche of vehicles. Dust clouds formed as wheels spun and drivers jostled for position along a gulley. We left them to it, because out on the vast plains where solitary

balanite trees withstand the mood swings of big, bold, temperamental skies, there’s so much more – crowd-free – to see.

Denied a horizon for so long, I traced the outline of endless savannas and rising escarpments with my eyes. Open and exposed, grasslands rolled like desert dunes and curtains of rain hung above far-off lands.

Sunrises were equally enthralling. It’s no accident Disney chose to shoot the opening daybreak sequence of The Lion King from Rekero’s arresting vantage point.

After months of lockdown, I even enjoyed lying in bed, listening to hippos grunting and lions roaring.

In the neighbouring conservancies (communityowned land bordering the

Reserve), where no self-drivers are allowed, more intimate wildlife experiences were in store. Cheetahs have found solitude in the managed spaces, where fewer vehicles interrupt their daytime hunts, and lion numbers continue to soar.

I stayed in Naboisho, one of the youngest conservancies. During an early morning walk pygmy kingfishers flash their brilliant blue feathers and elephants graze on acacia trees.

For the first time in eight months, I forgot about daily death counts and rates of transmission. Instead, I remembered all those things that make me feel alive: the freedom of space, the purity of nature, the connections with a wild world that continues to turn, Safari is the

Clockwise from main: Asilia’s Rekero camp on the Talek river, Kenya; Naboisho camp tents and pool; a lioness and her cub in the Masai Mara; and Sarah with walking guide Roelof Schutte watching the Masai giraffe same as it was 12 months ago: wildebeest are still migrating, lions haven’t stopped brawling and leopards continue to skulk in the shadows.

Our needs and expectations may have changed, but Africa’s magical wilderness fills a gaping void created by months of despondency and detachment.