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In the first week of August, 1999 a British newspaper published an article headlined "African safari company bans over 40's." Our English friends, with whom we were staying, thought this was very amusing since we had just returned from such a trip. My wife (Louie) and I (Al) are over 50. Our response was, "They did it for humanitarian reasons." The following explains why we said that.

Arriving in Nairobi in mid-March we were greeted by rain and a diminutive Scot named Kyle. Our initial impression was that he might be the driver's son or younger brother. As it turned out, he was not only the driver but tour guide. It was also our first look at the "Flying Scotsman," which would be our means of transport and security for the next 20 weeks. In a former life the vehicle had been a British Army four-wheel drive Bedford truck. It had undergone extensive modification, most noticeably the orange paint job and zebra-striped side panels. We then met our partners for the trip, whom we had hoped would be in their mid-twenties or older. We were in for a shock. Almost half of them were under the age of 20. When the 20 of us were divided into work groups. The two of us were assigned to a detail with two young girls.

Our team had the "luck" of cooking the first meal. Because we had volunteered to run the beer kitty (buying beer and collecting money from the drinkers), we went off for beer and the other two went grocery shopping. We came back with the beer, they returned with two green peppers to feed 21 people. To save the meal, we prepared spaghetti (fortunately, the truck pantry had tinned tomatoes, pasta and some garlic). It was the fire team's first attempt at providing energy for cooking. It took a long, long time to get a fire going.

One of the girls opened three kilos of pasta and dumped it into a kettle of cold water. Why? "It's the way I always do it," she said. The pasta wound up sitting there for over an hour before it was put on the fire. The sauce turned out well. At last, the water boiled and the starchy glop was served . The primary rule of the cooking group is that the cooks eat last. We had served all but two of the travelers, so we waited, but the other two decided to serve themselves. Eventually we got what could be scraped out of the pot and filled up on bread.

All of that behind us, it was time to see Africa. The next day presented us with great views of Mount Kilimanjaro. Climbing it was an option. Hearing many horror stories we opted to tackle a smaller peak, Mt. Meru. To make a long miserable story short, we failed to reach the summit of Mt. Meru, being caught in severe weather and just happy to get off the mountain.

Visiting a real Masai village, haggling over the purchase of a goat, which was turned into dinner, drinking tea sweetened with milk and blood were all more real African experiences. While seated on our camp stools we gnawed on the barbecued meat. All of the stools had been taken off the truck; the extras were occupied by young boys. We gathered around the tribe for singing and dancing, not noticing that as we were entertained all the stools disappeared. The village had only one three-legged stool, which was the property of the head man. After many threats, the stools were returned.

A short distance from the Masai village is Meserani, a small African village located near Mount Kilimanjaro in Tanzania. It has eight bars, which are mainly located within a few yards of each other along the main highway, just begging for a pub crawl. All of the beer consumed on this crawl was from bottles.

The first bar visited was the Eseriani. The outside was painted in zebra stripes and a Safari Lager label design decorated one wall. The interior was bright with mismatched yet attractive, wooden tables and white plastic chairs. The bar, located behind a barred grill, was manned by a pleasant African woman who cheerfully opened two Safaris for us and provided glasses, which was different from the white run bars we had previously visited where one just gets the bottle. Our fellow patrons included a white clad policeman and a traditionally dressed Masai native wearing a Reebok cap.

Next stop was the Parselian, where we had a couple Kilimanjaros. However, as Al carried the glasses back from the bar, he dropped one and while he hurried to pick up the pieces, he pricked his finger. The barman hurried over and apologized, offering a band-aid. Another man showed his concern and turned out to be the mayor. He was drinking a mixture of Fanta and water, but refused our offer to buy him one.

At the Umoja Bar we tried the Kibo Gold and watched the barmaid make mixed drinks by cutting the ends off small plastic packets, like the ones that ketchup come in at fast food joints, except these contain booze. The chairs here were wooden with cowhide stretched across the seats.

The mayor caught up with us at the Asmanhamis checking to see if we were okay. As we enjoyed our Tuskers a traditionally clothed Masai rode past on a bicycle carrying his stick, which no Masai is ever without. Al wound up with a chubby black baby in his lap, who wasn't sure what to make of Al's beard and eventually cried for his mama, which made everyone laugh. None of the bars sold food and we were very hungry. So after visiting all the bars on the one side of the highway, we crossed over to a restaurant the only thing on the menu was, rice and beans. It was really good; we wolfed it down.

At the Red Banana Louie started to sit in a rickety chair but it was quickly replaced before she could sit in it. Of course, she could have sat on the Suzuki motorcycle parked in the middle of the bar.

Last stop was the Engigwana where the kids tried to snatch coins from Al's hand, squealing with delight when they got one. The waitress there did an interesting thing when she poured a small amount of beer in each glass, swirled it around, and dumped it out before filling the glasses...

All in all a great night with happy, friendly people and not a nasty look the whole night.

Ngorongoro Crater is a unique, beautiful spot. The caldera of the extinct volcano is lush most of the year, supporting mating lions, rhino and elephant along with large numbers of antelope, buffalo, zebra and wildebeest.

The Serengeti Plain, with one exception, proved to be a disappointment. We had been cruising for hours when one of the guys shouted, "Look! A lion in a tree!" Kyle maneuvered the truck to allow for better photography; however, he drove into a large pool of mud. The truck was stuck. The lion, rudely awakened from its nap, became annoyed with us, climbed down, and sauntered away.

We spent a week following the coastline of Lake Victoria through Tanzania, Kenya and Uganda. Upstream from the lake is Murchison Falls, a tremendous torrent. We camped near the Nile at the head of the falls, where a group of hippos bobbed up and down in the rapids. Back at Lake Victoria we visited an island set aside as a chimpanzee reserve sponsored by Jane Goodall. Kyle drove us to the edge of a volcanic caldera, that has three waterfalls between 65 and 90 meters, making Sipi Falls one of the real highlights of the whole expedition. We could view one of the falls right from our tent. A guided walk took us to the base of each waterfall, and a sacred cave where the guides explained, rites of circumcision and their art of brewing. Later, we joined the guides around a fire for a drink of the local brew. We took turns holding the gourd, sipping the beer through a straw, and pleasantly sharing the local culture.

The Rift Valley in Kenya is full of interesting lakes. Millions of flamingos certainly dominated our view of Lake Bogoria. A ride down a rough dirt track, which was not any wider or higher than the truck, resulted in the tarp on the truck being slashed from front to back, and one of the girls' bikini tops, which was hung up to dry, being snatched by an acacia branch. Kyle wanted to know, "Was she wearing it?" Then while we photographed a geyser we found a dead flamingo. One of the girls cried,"Oh, look at the poor penguin!"

The national park at Lake Nakuru provided the sighting of a leopard, which prowled around the truck for half an hour allowing several rolls of film to be exhausted. It was also where I continued my relationship with large herbivores. The group was on its way to gather firewood. I elected to walk ahead instead of waiting for the truck. The sun was just rising when I noticed a large black object directly in my path. It was a water buffalo. Although these beasts look docile, they are rated the most dangerous animals in Africa. The bull turned its head and started toward me in a threatening manner. I turned and started back up the path. Just then four more people appeared over a small rise and the buffalo decided to retreat.

Elsemere (home of the book "Born Free"), Hell's Gate National Park, and Crater Lake are located near the shores of Lake Naivasha. It was a rare treat to explore a wildlife park on our own by bicycle. The park gets its name from the rock formations, so provides a great landscape to accompany the wildlife. At camp we watched the hippos come in to browse. At night it's an amazing, and to some, frightening sensation to hear a several ton hippo chewing grass right next to your ear as you lie still in your tent. Another hair raising ride in the truck ended at the tranquil, idyllic Crater Lake, where we watched vultures sore by at eye level.

The road to Dar es Salaam is the worst piece of highway we covered on the whole trip. We actually got stuck right in the middle of a huge mud puddle. The delay required us to rough camp. Kyle slid to the side of the road and got stuck right in front of a small village, where he talked to the people and we think they agreed to let us camp there. They received leftovers and charcoal in exchange.

The short ferry ride from Dar es Salaam to Zanzibar took us from Africa to Arabia. The former slave station and spice center is rich in the culture of the traders who settled there. The spice tour was extremely interesting with the groves and orchards showing spices in their natural state. The "Swimming with the Dolphins"expedition was a bust we never saw a fin. But best of all was the fish market. We ate there every evening, a full tummy could be had for around $2.

Malawi is dominated by the lake of the same name, thus we spent most of our time camped along the shores. It is the cheapest place in Africa to buy wood carvings. The truck was filled with wooden chairs and statues of giraffes and tribes people.

Damn the land mines, full speed ahead. The truck wasn't supposed to enter Mozambique because of these mines, but we could all save money and time by taking the Tete Corridor through Mozambique. The border crossing went so well that we plunged ahead camping right on the banks of the Zambezi, which became my favorite river.

Entering Zimbabwe we left African Africa behind and entered European Africa. The people were African, but the infrastructure was European, the legacy of Cecil Rhodes and company. The main cities of Bulawayo and Harare were very modern and clean. The roadside stands were gone, now we shopped in supermarkets. Our favorite eating place was Emkilikazi Gardens. The beer was cold and a huge T-bone steak dinner with sadza (corn meal mush) and salad was about $1.25.

Seeing 13 rhino at Matopos National Park was certainly exceptional, but our best day was at Victoria Falls. One highlight of Vic Falls is bunjee jumping off the bridge over the Zambezi separating Zimbabwe and Zambia. The younger set were keen on paying $90 for the eight second thrill, we just watched, thank you. However, we had some really good outings. We hired bikes and went for a ride along the Zambezi above the falls taking in the beauty and power of the river and environs, an elephant accompanied us. The following day couldn't have been better. We started with a three hour kayak trip on the Zambezi just managing not to get dumped in the rapids. This was immediately followed by lunch and a game drive in a Zambian national park where we walked to within 20 yards of 80% of Zambia's rhinos. The fifth rhino was in South Africa hoping to increase the gene pool. And finally a sunset cruise, which included watching elephants cavort along the shore, knocking down trees and spraying water on and into themselves. Now you know why it's my favorite river.

Keeping three huge diamond mines secret from the British must have been pretty tricky, but Botswana did and became one of the richest countries in Africa. The Okavango Delta, is a huge estuary on the edge of the Kalahari desert. The Okavango River, the source of the delta, is the only river in the world that does not reach the sea, it gets absorbed by the Kalahari. Our exploration began with each pair of us in a mokoro (dugout canoe) with a person to propel the craft. We wound our way through the delta, seeing hippos and a few small snakes. The next morning we saw something that made the trek worthwhile. As we walked along through the bush, we heard a loud whooshing sound followed by a big thump. A bull elephant had pushed over a large palm tree, he and four of his buddies devoured the tree. First they ate the fronds and then the tree itself, breaking it into bite-size pieces (about the size of a railroad tie/sleeper). They would chew on one while they used their tusks, trunk and feet to break off another morsel.

Back in the truck we headed for Namibia, probably the least known of the Southern Africa countries, a land of contrasts and surprises. Our first stop along the Okavango River gave us a chance to make an illegal border crossing. Angola lies just across the fairly narrow river. The two of us hired a kayak and paddled across, picking a deserted spot on the far bank, we backed in to allow for a fast get away. Being in the neighborhood of the Unita rebels, we quickly departed.

Etosha National Park is one of Namibia's major attractions. The campgrounds feature illuminated waterholes where you can watch the wildlife come to drink. The animals we spotted were elephants, jackals, hyenas and assorted antelopes, and a young black rhino. The big event was seeing a hawk catch another bird in mid-flight. We were close to nature, however, having to fight the jackals off who tried to steal our dishes, water bottle and some beer, while we slept. As we prepared to depart we did see something special, the biggest weaver bird nest in the world! Well, it seemed that way to us. Several meters square containing hundreds of individual holes all woven together; it was a bird housing complex. The funny thing was that we had walked under it several times on our trips back and forth to the facilities, without spotting it.

The next few days were spent being real tourists by visiting Finger Rock, a huge column which rises up in the middle of an arid landscape much like Arizona; Twyfelfontein, site of thousands of ancient rock carvings; and a petrified forest.

As we approached the coast under a scorching cloudless sky we could see the clouds gathering ahead, but were taken by surprise when we entered that bank of thick moist fog. Welcome to The Skeleton Coast, one of the most desolate places on earth. As we turned south everyone scrambled to get out their fleece and other warm clothes -- it was getting real cold fast. There was nothing to see in any direction but driftwood and other forms of flotsam, a few bones and animal tracks (we think jackal and hyena). We had slept in our tent every night, that was practical, eschewing the dorm rooms and the back of the truck, privacy was higher on our priority list. We had never gotten wet even on nights when it poured. So, it was with some surprise that we awoke at 3 a.m. to find ourselves soaked to the skin. The fog had crept under our rain fly and permeated the whole tent including our sleeping bags. Fortunately, the next three nights were spent inside so we got everything dried out.

After a stop to see, hear and smell a quarter of a million seals at Cape Cross, we arrived in Swakopmund, which is a center for outdoor activities like: sand boarding, sky diving, parachuting, deep sea fishing and quad biking (ATVs). Of course the young crowd went in for all of it, that's why they came to Africa. After failing to arrange a kayak trip (no one else wanted to go), we reluctantly went quad biking. We got brief glances of the desert landscape as our companions tried to see if they could kill themselves.

Question: what language do you suppose they speak in Swakopmund? Answer: German. Namibia was called German Southwest Africa from the 1880's until 1917 a relatively short time and you would think the influence would have died as it did in Tanzania. However in some of the cities it is like being in Germany. The signs, food, stores and customs are all German.

Windhoek, the capital city, was mainly an R&R stop to re-provision and rest up for the desert.

The Namibian Desert would prove to be beautiful, dry and the end of the trip for many of the group. We camped at a place called Sesriem and drove out to Dune 45, the largest sand dune in the world (300 meters high), to watch the sunset. We returned the next morning to watch the sunrise and then took a walk in the desert to a place called Sossusvlei. We were heading out of the national park about two o'clock in the afternoon. The truck was traveling at 60 kph when the left front wheel flew off, throwing the passengers out of their seats into a heap on the floor. The truck swerved to the left and wound up in the sand off the dirt road, the wheel about 50 yards away. Only one of the passengers was injured, banging his eye on someone's knee. The truck on the other hand was a different story. The bottom of the brake pads were sheared off and the bottom of the hub was smashed flat. It looked like a hopeless situation. The end of the trip via the Scotsman seemed certain. But Kyle never batted an eye and started to make repairs. One of the other passengers and I acted as assistants to Kyle. Meanwhile, one of the females started waving down passing cars to arrange for rides to the campground 30 kms away at Sesriem. By the time my wife left there were only five of us working on the truck. A landrover and another overland truck left the campground to rescue the last five, but due to some of the most creative jury rigging I have ever participated in, and using three wheel drive with much squealing from rubbing metal parts, Kyle pulled the truck onto the road just as the sun set. The assistant mechanics were offered a lift in the landrover but refused, wanting to stay with the truck till the end. It took two hours to drive the 30 kms, but we finally arrived to incredulous cheers.

During the next week the group slowly split up, some joining other trucks to complete their journey to CapeTown, others remaining in the desert, and some (including us) returning to Windhoek awaiting repairs on the truck.

Eventually, we were reunited with the truck and remaining passengers in Keetmanshoop, and proceeded to Fish River Canyon, Southern Africa's version of the Grand Canyon.

At last, Cape Town. The truck was due to return to Nairobi. However, we had booked flights to Madagascar weeks before. So, after going up Table Mountain, we bid farewell to the rest of the group.

Having survived the truck trip and enduring the presence of some people we really didn't like, it was a great relief to visit the world's fourth largest island by ourselves. The winter in Madagascar is much like an English summer. The sun comes out and it's warm, then it clouds over and may or may not rain, then the cycle repeats, maybe. Much of the population is not African, but Malay-Polynesian, the first settlers coming by canoe 1500 years ago. Some areas reminded us of Southeast Asia, some like Maori villages, and the people are friendly and helpful. Many of the people wear hats mostly of straw with interwoven colors like small baskets turned upside down. The traditional dress of the men is similar to the Masai. They wear wraps, but not with tribal designs. In fact, they are kitchen tablecloths. They also carry sticks or umbrellas. Many go barefoot and equally as many wear various sorts of sandals, the minority wear shoes (Reeboks). French is the language of the city, Malagasy the language of the countryside. We became fluent in Malagasy -- "Salama" means "Good morning..."

The zebu cattle with large humps on their necks and broad vertical horns are used as beasts of burden (and for meat). On a 50-km bike ride to a lake within a cinder cone we must have past 50 zebu-drawn carts. Another form of transport is the "push-push," a rickshaw used in Medium-size towns. They are colorful, but the pullers are relentless in pursuing tourists and, once gaining a fare, trying to increase the charge upon arrival. The beggars, are in the minority, but present, and even worse than the push-push men. They range from age 2-90 and hound tourists right to the doors of their hotels.

The nature is dazzling. In one day we saw six species of lemur ( about 15 individual animals), one striped civet and a gecko. We also saw a boa and various chameleons up front and personal. All toll we saw ten species of lemur and over 40 individual animals in the wild. On a visit to the zoo we viewed an additional four species. It proved that seeing these unique creatures flying through the trees in their natural habitat was a delightful privilege.

Our transport from town to town was in bush-taxis, which leave only when full (meaning packed like sardines and then adding more passengers in route). The seats on the beds of small pickups are facing benches like a micro "Flying Scotsman" (the truck we traveled in for 16 weeks) and contained just as many bodies. With the exchange rate at 6500 Franc Malagash to the dollar, many things are cheap, especially on the street, but a few things like juice and milk are surprisingly high.

Madagascar has a typical climate and geography for a large tropical island. A spine of low mountains runs down the center collecting most of the cool weather and rain. Here the streams are channeled as they cascade through the small terraced plots that provide rice and luscious vegetables which can be seen for sale along the roadside. The East Coast is wetter than the hot dry savannah that we visited to the west. We didn't travel to the north as the roads are the worst in the country, and that's saying a lot. It normally took over two hours to cover 100 km on paved roads, and then only if the driver was crazy, which most of them were. We had a cool trip. The weather was mixed, but the lemurs were fantastic.

While visiting Isalo National Park we shared a guide with a Hungarian couple who spoke English and the only other tourists who did not speak French. The wife is head of the Hungarian wildlife protection agency. She saw Al's "Jane Goodall" t-shirt, which he had purchased when we visited a chimp refuge. This delighted her since she had worked with Jane Goodall. In fact, she personally rescued four chimps from a Soviet circus and after two years of buearacrcy delivered them to Entebbe. She was pleased to hear they were living on Ngamba Island, which had been only in the planning stages when she was there.

From Madagascar we returned to South Africa to complete our African adventure by ourselves. From Johannesburg we took an over night bus to Zimbabwe, we wanted to visit the city for which the country is named. Great Zimbabwe is fascinating, a walled city with architecture found no where else for thousands of miles. We enjoyed touring the ruins and have joined the many who speculate about who created it.

Our next stop was the Chimanimani National Park home of the mountains bearing the same name. Arriving in the neighboring town our plans were to take a much-appreciated change. Back in Namibia we had received a ride in another companies overland truck and made friends with one of the drivers, a guy named Dennis. Here we were walking down the road in Zimbabwe and he pulls up in a car and offers us a ride. Turned out he was on vacation with his girl friend and working his way to Harare, which just happened to be where we were going and for a little gas money we had our transportation sorted out for the rest of our trip. We climbed the mountains the next day and proceeded to visit a huge tree, some hot springs and he helped us get settled in Harare. What were the odds of that?

When we booked our African safari we had the option of taking a break in journey in Egypt. Having planned to go there several times and failing to, we couldn't pass up the chance. Boy is Egypt hot! Having arrived on an overnight flight we were both exhausted, but this didn't stop a cab driver from hustling us into a tour of Cairo and the surrounding area. In our first day in country we viewed the pyramids, the Sphinx, Memphis and took a camel ride. We finally got some sleep and saw the Cairo museum. Talk about mummies and statues and everything you've ever seen on Discovery channel -- it was all there. We took a train all the way down to the very end of the country visiting Luxor, the Valley of The Kings and Queens and finally Abu Simbel, home of those huge statues. Most of the things we visited we had seen on TV, so I won't go into detail -- it is impressive!

It may come as a surprise, but we did actually make another truck trip (in South America), but not for as long a journey and definitely not with so many British youngsters. (See the South America story, if you want.)