FOREST.

The ride was long and eventful. Our jeep got stuck on a root going straight up a hill. The wheels spin loudly digging us deeper into a hole as the front of the jeep inched toward the sky. Black lava gavel flies over the back of the jeep and covers us with a fine powder. We can’t stop laughing. Moses has gotten us out of bigger scrapes than this. Without assistance from the other guides who are standing and yelling instructions in Swahili to Moses, the jeep pops out of the rut and we reach the top of the hill with the valley below and Kili in the distance.

The terrain is hillier and even greener than the green pasture that is the view of Massai country from the lodge. Animals migrate here during the heat of summer. We get out to stretch our legs and for tea and soft drinks.

Sandor swings a riffle over his shoulder and says, “It’s very important to stay single file on the path through the forest and be very quiet. If you want to see any animals, you must be quiet.”

We start walking up a short, muddy hill into the dense green forest. Surrounded by tall trees that cover the sky with a thick canopy, Sandor stops short and we listen.

Someone says, “Monkeys.”

Paula spies one but no one else has the trained eye of a zoo keeper so we move on.

Small groups bunch up on the trail talking quietly.

“What part of ‘single file’ don’t you people understand,” Pamela says with a wink.

There is a large pool of water in the middle of the path with large tree roots flowing out of the ground nearby. Electric blue butterflies take off and land at the edge of the water. We gather around as the guides look at animal tracks in the mud.

When we reach the end of the trail, the sun appears and the landscape becomes familiar again. Rolling hills blanketed in tall green grass spill out before us until the bottom of Kili can be seen below the cloud cover on the horizon.

There is a universal tick check and the now familiar awe at the view.

Walking back through the forest, I have to pee and there is no holding it for the 2-hour ride back to the lodge. We try and convince Clare that peeing outside isn’t so bad, but she’s having none of it. Pamela gives me a lesson on trampling down the grass. It’s hard to coordinate squatting, holding your pants far enough in front of you to avoid wetting legs or panties or pants, all the while convincing your bladder to let go. I was never completely successful.