Going to Church

It has finally dried out some after several days of lively afternoon thunderstorms and the rock outcropping behind our camp is no longer slippery.  It should be safe to climb, and Michael will take us up to see the sunrise over the Serengeti. Our head guide, Charles, has been friends with Michael for many years and with good humor he calls the experience 'Church of Mike'. So, just after first light I hear hands clapping as camp staff patrol and climb to make sure the area is clear of snakes, buffalo and whatever else. Last night there was a leopard in camp on the rocks above the kitchen area and that was a good reminder that we are not alone here.

At the appointed time we follow Michael single file through the grass and up the smooth rock slope to a spectacular overlook. Rising mist shrouds the acacia trees that dot the plain; canopy bottoms all neatly trimmed at 18 feet by grazing giraffes. The tall grass is green and certainly taller and greener than when we arrived a week ago.  Small hills in the distance,  more rock outcrops closer in. The sun has risen and its red glow is filtered by the morning mists. The sunlight washes the plain. When we reach the top we spread out and all find places to settle in silence to contemplate the coming of the day in silence.  The only sounds are birds calls, distant lions, closer heyenas, and when I strain my ears I hear breakfast being prepared below. For a half hour I am alone with only my thoughts, the feel of the cool damp rock under my butt, and the sights, smells and sounds of the Serengeti. Can't ask for a more spiritual experience.