Camping in Africa, at least as we’ve experienced so far, is quite civilized. (We will see a more rustic side on Mount Kilimanjaro.)
For two nights, we call a tented camp in the Serengeti home. Picture a grouping of 15 or so army barracks type tents arranged in a horseshoe with a dining tent at the curve. As far as the eye can see, the grasslands and trees of the Serengeti.
The seven-foot-high tents are made of rubberized canvas. Each contains two mosquito-netted beds (three-quarter or double size), a small desk and chairs and a bench for luggage in the main room. The second room has a private dressing area, walled off shower and chemical toilet and a vanity with a basin and pitcher of water.
On our first night, at the suggestion of our host, we decide on a shower before dinner (and before the rest of the 16 guests arrive). We watch as staff fills a cistern above the tent shower with warm water. Under the gravity-powered showerhead, I catch the unmistakable smell of wood smoke; the water must have been heated over an open fire.
The dining tent has tables with table cloths, “real” dishes and cutlery, plus a spot to charge electronics, such as camera battery packs and laptops. On our first night, we are served Safari beers before the meal and then one of the best dinners we’ve had thus far — pea soup, stewed beef with rice, crispy fish flavoured with lime, fresh peas and carrots and pan-fried potatoes.
Throughout the meal, we watch legions of moths crowd around the outside lights and listen to what must be the world’s largest bullfrogs call to one another. At night, we hear lions, hyenas and impalas.
The staff, led by the affable Freddy, are kind, helpful and friendly. They encourage us to use our limited Swahili during our stay and cook up wonderful meals with limited resources. We are sad to leave them after two days.
For two nights, we call a tented camp in the Serengeti home. Picture a grouping of 15 or so army barracks type tents arranged in a horseshoe with a dining tent at the curve. As far as the eye can see, the grasslands and trees of the Serengeti.The seven-foot-high tents are made of rubberized canvas. Each contains two mosquito-netted beds (three-quarter or double size), a small desk and chairs and a bench for luggage in the main room. The second room has a private dressing area, walled off shower and chemical toilet and a vanity with a basin and pitcher of water.
On our first night, at the suggestion of our host, we decide on a shower before dinner (and before the rest of the 16 guests arrive). We watch as staff fills a cistern above the tent shower with warm water. Under the gravity-powered showerhead, I catch the unmistakable smell of wood smoke; the water must have been heated over an open fire.
The dining tent has tables with table cloths, “real” dishes and cutlery, plus a spot to charge electronics, such as camera battery packs and laptops. On our first night, we are served Safari beers before the meal and then one of the best dinners we’ve had thus far — pea soup, stewed beef with rice, crispy fish flavoured with lime, fresh peas and carrots and pan-fried potatoes.
Throughout the meal, we watch legions of moths crowd around the outside lights and listen to what must be the world’s largest bullfrogs call to one another. At night, we hear lions, hyenas and impalas.
The staff, led by the affable Freddy, are kind, helpful and friendly. They encourage us to use our limited Swahili during our stay and cook up wonderful meals with limited resources. We are sad to leave them after two days.
Sidebar: Could tented camps be the cure for Parks Canada’s issue with declining visitors?
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