Barrelling through tall grass our Land Cruiser barely touches the soft, dark earth as another seemingly random mound launches us sky-high. The rear wheels find purchase and pull us to a standstill amidst an early morning lull. A thick mist covers the Mara’s valley floor, a grey soup interjected by the rolling peaks of green-yellow hills peeping out for a yawning sun to warm. We’ve been in and out of the mist since 5am, searching for a nine-strong pride we spotted the night before. But they’re gone, probably dozing after a busy night. We instead settle to watch a giraffe amble past in the distance, it’s long, sleek neck protruding from the swirling mists now starting to evaporate. Perching atop a small green island, we watch as the heat of the morning sun unveils a magnificent landscape as majestic as it’s namesake suggests; The Maasai Mara.
