Samburu may be my favorite Kenyan National Park so far. It is very arid with lots of scrub forest and acacia trees. The terrain is rocky with some hills and outcroppings, hemmed in by silhouettes of mountains and split down the middle by a wide, shallow river, the level of which fluctuates dramatically between the rainy and dry seasons. It is very remote. Our drive from Nairobi turned from four hours to five, six, and then to seven. At the six-hour mark, the tarmac ended and we finished the journey on a rutted, dirt road which made our van shake and rattle as if it would fall apart piece by piece until only the seats and wheels rolled into the campsite.
We entered the park just at sunset and caught a glimpse of some gerenuk who had their eye on an unseen threat. They bolted, and the predator, still too far away, gave up the hunt. We sped along to see if we could spot what was stalking them and we caught a glimpse of a cheetah crossing the road ahead of us.
We stayed for three nights in a tented camp on the banks of the river. The camp consisted of a handful of dome tents, a kitchen area, and a pit latrine (a bit on the scary side especially at night when siafu ants and cockroaches came out. Truth be told, we escaped to the nearby lodge a couple of times for cold drinks and serious business). There were four guys – Bob, Smith, Nicholas, and Richard who cooked, scared away baboons, and generally kept up the campsites. Best of all, there was no one else at the camp, and we saw very few cars during our entire safari. Instead of a dozen mini-vans chasing lions around the bush without regard for roads or animal-privacy, we got to watch the animals doing what they normally do – giant bull buffalo locking horns, baby elephants testing out their tusk fighting skills or splashing in the river, leopards sunning themselves, and kite eagles dive-bombing a fish eagle near their nest. We also saw gerenuks standing on their hind legs to eat leaves from the trees, their proportions oddly human-esque when upright. 
Samburu treated us to all three big cats – lions, leopards and cheetahs. 
They, too, were doing what big cats do best – sleeping - completely indifferent to our presence. We caught glimpses of oryx grazing in the tall grass. You wouldn’t think that their black stripes, white faces, and saber-like horns would let them blend well with the landscape, but they melted like shadows into the dry plains and when their heads were lowered to graze, you might mistake their horns for blades of grass.
Reticulated giraffe were plentiful and looked stunning against the backdrop of the foothills. Despite their improbable proportions, we were awed by their grace and the fluidness of every motion. That is, until we saw one try to drink. Then we wondered if perhaps evolution had veered a little too far to the left. A drinking giraffe looks like his knees might buckle, sending him head first into his drink. Not very graceful. Absurd, actually.
In the mornings, vervet monkeys would lurk around the kitchen and as the sun grew warmer, all kinds of birds would hop around the campsite – superb starlings, buffalo weavers, … One morning, a very clever baboon seized a rare opportunity to grab some free food. Everyone was temporarily distracted and a very large baboon grabbed the platter of toast from the table and proceeded to stuff pieces of bread into her mouth with both hands. Both Justin and I yelled and ran towards the baboon. She faked right, we went right, she went left and grabbed a few more slices of bread as she ran by the plate again. Very sneaky. I threw a full waterbottle and missed. Not sure what exactly I would have done if I actually caught her (or more likely collided with her).
Besides the birds that greeted us each morning, we saw so many others that I couldn’t begin to remember them all. Fish eagles, Marshall eagles, ox peckers, ibis, herons, egrets, weavers, starlings… None of them were quite brave enough to accept the giant crocodile’s open invitation to clean his teeth, however.
It was a fantastic trip, although I am sure that our driver and guide were bored out of their minds when we were content to watch the elephants slowly crossing the river for 30 minutes or more. Mom fell in love with every creature, big and small, and talked to each one. The only slightly uncomfortable anecdote was our visit to the Samburu village. At the risk of offending some Samburu, I would say that the Samburu and Masai are very similar but the former lack some of the class of the latter. The scanty resources of the dry northern area were readily apparent in the construction of the local huts. Roofs were made of cardboard and maize-meal sacs arranged in a papier-mâché like fashion on mud and stick walls. All in all, the visit to the village was awkward, but educational and unfortunately ended with some VERY high pressure shopping which turned us off right away.
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