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Kenya is a country that I practiced a lot about twelve years ago by flying over it on a delta wing and making the first of Mount Kenya.   I also dropped myself several thousand meters above the "Masai Mara Game Reserve" from the balloon of an Englishman who was making a film. In the same reserve, to the great surprise of the Maasai I took off from the roof of Serena Lodge to land almost on the back of a lioness who was coming out of a bush and whom I saw at the last moment.

 

It was during this trip that I had the idea of organizing Balloon Safaris. 

 

I kept in my eyes the images and the colors of a fabulous country and I go back there today with a lot of nostalgia. 

 

 

Clandestine Mombasa Airport "tolls"

 

I think back to our uneventful flight via Vienna, on our arrival in Mombasa where a customs officer masterfully "operated" on me by extracting a substantial bribe from me (the irony is that when I let it be known that I had to justify my expenses he filled out and signed an "official" receipt for me, recommending that I not talk about it and show it to anyone - the reason for the "tax" is the entry of my films that I brought back in France in their entirety). 

 

The police officers at the airport, seeing us pass with our equipment to access our small rental plane, took over by creating a very African baroque comedy to remind me that the "mousoungou" (white man) in Kenya is a cow to fat milk that must be milked. 

 

With much palaver on the level of the backshish we end up passing the security checks without being controlled. What a paradise for international terrorism! (Based on my previous experience I asked in vain for a receipt but without insisting because the "case" was starting to turn sour)

 

Corruption has obviously taken on disproportionate proportions and we are a far cry from the enchanted green meadows of the movie "Out of Africa". (By the way, the producers of this film had to pay huge "bakshish" to be able to carry out their business. As a reward,  "Out of Africa" broke all publicity records for the development of the country's tourist industry, whose turnover simply doubled a few months after its release in public cinemas).

 

All-out greed is limitless (legal or illegal). Corruption and racketeering which once existed but were hard to detect are nowadays becoming apparent, very aggressive and pervasive. 

 

There was even strong talk recently of taxing the use of amateur video cameras... alarmed tourism professionals were able to explain that it would kill the goose that lay the golden eggs, but it is certainly only a postponement and the sword of Damocles remains suspended.

 

The descendants of the remaining settlers in Kenya live there with the anguish of seeing one day a band of armed gangsters break down their doors and burst in, killing all who protest and then robbing the house. How many people have been massacred in the last few years with a chopping stroke.... (a well-known bush pilot barely escaped with his face and body in shreds).   The once relatively safe streets of Nairobi are now impassable at night on foot... some Lufthansa crews will remember their remarkable arrival at the Serena Hotel... naked as worms but happy to be alive.

 

Galloping demographic growth does not improve this situation. Kenya is facing its destiny. Its population should double before the end of this century. Pope John Paul II recently visited this country denouncing the principles of contraception and birth control. If you visit the slums of big cities like Mombasa, Nairobi, it's hard to understand...

 

However, Kenya remains a very endearing country and a certain form of stability reigns there. 

 

European advisers are omnipresent at all levels of governmental and industrial organisation.

 

Tourism, one of the main industries, is very well organized by high level professionals and the trip is really worth it.

 

 

Will take off? won't take off?

 

After our "slalom" between the clandestine "tolls" of Mombasa airport, we come up against the Chinese headache of loading the 250 kg of equipment into the Cessna 206 that I rented to transport the whole expedition.

 

In a bath of sweat, stuck at the end of the runway between two Boeings, we get the green light from the control tower, wondering if our plane will take off.   After an interminable race full of twists and turns, our pilot ended up pulling us off the ground by pulling on the handle extremely gently. "Lift is a fine flower that comes from speed" ... overloading is sometimes a harsh reality of the laws of air. 

 

But this time we fly somehow and we stay for a long time at the level of the daisies without daring to gain altitude too much. The Mombasa track is soon no more than a thin ribbon of concrete lost somewhere in our wake. My calculations of weight, volume and size of luggage are really very accurately calculated.

 

Let's go ! This is the beginning of an adventure that I have been preparing for a few months. I had already made a first attempt which failed in November 1988. The chosen pilot, wonderfully well directed by his communication adviser, did not come. Said adviser could think of nothing better than to warn me at 3 a.m. that my pilot would not be coming with the 8 a.m. plane. 

 

I left some substantial savings there. Being stubborn and tenacious like any good self-respecting Breton, I reassembled this expedition with two new pilots. And the result tells me today that my lucky star was perhaps watching over the grain.

 

Amboseli

 

The chance of life, the realization of my job as a photographer, the meeting with Philippe Laville test pilot of the Voilerie Soubeyrat and with Philippe Jeorgeaguet, manufacturer of the Jet Pocket engine system, brought us together in this plane which bumps and weaves between the Amboseli track potholes. 

 

The Kilimanjaro welcomes us and graces us with the spectacle of its eternal snow.

 

Without waiting we meet Naftali Kio (acting head of the reserve in the absence of his Chief). We paid a small fortune to get permission from Nairobi to fly over Amboseli and Nakuru parks. As for the authorization in the Masai Mara, the problem will be solved on the spot. 

 

I had obtained this agreement in Nairobi last November during my first attempt aborted by withdrawal of the pilot. The price asked by the "Wildlife Department" was then reasonable. 

 

This time it suddenly increased   being multiplied by five the day before we left. I had no choice, I had to give in to blackmail.

 

These rights are usually requested from directors of TV, advertising or production films who have much greater means than those of a poor photographer... but this is Bwana Africa and if you want to move a project forward, we pay without discussing...! ... and what is the difference between a 35 or 70 m/m cinema camera and a Leica  ?

 

I tell myself that this money will be used for a good cause and I hope that it will be specifically invested in the fight against poaching.

 

Naftali turned out to be a charming and dedicated companion who helped us and let us do our job without difficulty.

 

 

First flight

 

Unknowingly, the terrain we chose to take off was in the way of a herd of elephants which joined us from the leeward side while we were out of the cars preparing our aircraft.   They entered our field of action without even one or the other of us concerned about our work noticing their approach. Very organized, their front and rear guard made it clear to us that we should not make inconsiderate gestures... but these intelligent pachyderms (protecting the little ones in the center of the herd) passed without a sound Ö a few meters taking good care not to disturb us and to respect our "territory".

 

In the savannah, failure to respect this notion of territory is intimately linked to life or death.   For example,   in another place or in another situation these animals would not let us approach them on foot from the windward side at a distance less than that which separates us from them at this time.

 

The "caravan" passes and vanishes into nature. (Naftali had seen them coming but knew perfectly well that we were in no danger)

 

Philippe Laville had never flown with the Jet Pocket. I knew from having tried the device that a high-level paraglider pilot would have no difficulty handling this machine. Bet held, bet won. Philippe takes off without difficulty and after a few minutes of flight he begins an acrobatic dance of remarkable precision. The spectacle against the backdrop of Kilimanjaro is worth the trip. I am delighted with my final choice, thinking of the images that we will be able to make.

 

 

"Don't Kill the Elephants"

 

I remember about ten years ago having heard during a picnic in the Masai  Mara, not far from the Tanzanian border, bursts of automatic weapons from poachers in hunting action.

 

Following this event, I promised myself never to miss the opportunity to fight against this sickening carnage.

 

Today, thanks to these photos, I have the floor and the possibility of amplifying a message already launched by many others and which deserves to be repeated constantly until the moment when Man understands that if he does not is not able to preserve endangered animal species, then he will have no right to live on this earth.

 

A few months ago the international press broadcast the announcement of elephant massacres in the Stavo Park. For a report like this, how many other carnages have taken place in silence?

 

In Kenya, a probably true rumor is circulating: one day a Lear Jet from an Arab country landed directly on the Keekorok runway in the "Masai Mara Game Reserve". Wealthy princes descended from it with arms and baggage and went on a game of carnage in full reserve. Tourist bus drivers still talk about it with trepidation because they witnessed the slaughter when they found the carcasses of slaughtered animals. Terror reigns and no one will be mad enough to risk leaking the news officially.

 

The media and the leaders of this world must forcefully ban the trade in ivory,   or any other trophy endangering an animal species. 

 

The public should think before buying an animal trophy. None of them are insignificant and the acquisition of an elephant hair ring is a death sentence just as much as an ivory ring.

 

The disappearance of a species is a death knell for humanity. 

 

My two new friends understand the meaning of the message well and do wonders. Thanks to them and with them, we were able to produce these spectacular images which thus become the means of conveying the message "Don't kill elephants anymore".

 

We spent a feverish hour writing it in English on our headsets.

 

One morning Philippe and Philippe do a slalom between the elephants of a herd   which rushes at me.

 

This charge punctuated by the salt dust flying around the animals is grandiose but very quickly becomes impressive. Naftali and my assistant beg me screaming to start. Resisting the same urge (increasingly uncontrollable by the way) I take a few photos of the scene and don't wait any longer to see if the engine of our car is willing to perform its functions.

 

Apparently the animals were only a few meters behind us when, screaming first, I moved into second and then third.

 

A little later, according to a well-known tactic, the pachyderms gather in a defensive circle. They see no further than the end of their proboscis, which they raise vertically in the air in order to feel and recognize this intruder who "breaks their ears".

 

As soon as I'm sure I've taken a good photo, I put on the flight interruption signal and we leave our friends to calmly recover from their emotions.

 

Our intrusion is probably less significant than that caused by the thousands of cars which, year after year, destroy the soil of the Parks and reserves. 

 

What about those poor lions trying to eat their prey in a cloud of exhaust fumes under the flashes of a swarm of tourists.

 

There would be a lot to tell about the financial exploitation of reserves to the detriment of wildlife.

 

Some powerful economic interest groups are run by "predators" who block or delay the rehabilitation of access and traffic roads in a well-known reserve in order to better sell seats on their charter planes and to hinder the development of their competitors. The result is that tourists who come by road not wanting to get stranded leave the rutted track to try to pass by. Year after year during the rainy season   new ruts widen and multiply. Seen from the sky, the ground is nothing more than an incredible intertwining of tracks and ploughing, the consequences of which are disastrous for the biotope.

 

The picture is not so bleak everywhere and there is good news. For example, because of the cars, Amboseli National Park was slowly turning into a salt dust desert. The authorities understood this and fortunately prohibited cars from leaving the tracks.

 

 

Even the elephants

 

One evening when we leave Serena Lodge the wind is blowing at the limit of flight conditions. Very quickly we spot a herd of elephants taking a mud bath in a swamp covered with soft and luminous green grass.

 

Without much conviction, we prepare our devices not far from there. Busy with our business, we do not realize that two elephants are heading towards us while eating.

 

One of them behaved strangely, forcing us to evacuate the area without discussion, leaving one of the Jet Pockets on the spot... He smelled the machine but seemed preoccupied with something else._cc781905-5cde-3194-bb3b- 136bad5cf58d_

 

In fact he is in all his states and then begins a simulacrum of combat with his companion. Moments later he wraps his trunk around her hind leg and pulls her towards him firmly.   We then witness an elephantine mating under a cloud of white birds which fly away so as not to be trampled. 

 

Idyllic image in the light of the setting sun.

 

Without knowing it, we have just seen a rare event:  Naftali the "Game Warden" points out to us that he had never seen or heard of the coupling of two male elephants!

 

Just think, it also happens to elephants!

 

It was said that there would be no flights that evening because we had to wait until nightfall for the two pachyderms to go frolic elsewhere to retrieve our Jet Pocket.

 

An eagle's eye

 

The last evening of our stay in Amboseli, I had a marvelous little plane come from Nairobi: a Cessna 210 "turbo charged" which allowed me to fly over the crater of Kilimanjaro at an altitude of 8500 meters without any problem. I was thus settling an old dispute with this legendary mountain which had never "let itself be done" for the ten years when I had wanted to take this photo. Indeed I have always found Kilimanjaro covered with its hat of clouds… no photo! 

 

This time I discovered that the summit at its exact vertical has the shape of an eagle's head whose eye is the crater.

 

There are special moments in life and tonight is one of them. 

 

The earth is already darkening as we still fly in the light of a blazing horizon.   There, far below, at the foot of Kilimanjaro, under the scattered clouds, the African plain is teeming with life. A rare spectacle presents itself to my eyes and I have the feeling of having the wonderful chance of doing the best job in the world.

 

A cloud of pink flamingos

 

Once again we find ourselves stuck in the cabin of our small rental plane.

 

On land, in the Rift Valley, the Maasai bring their cattle out of the walls of the Manyatas (villages whose huts made of cow dung are arranged in a circle).   The ocher colors dominate and in the morning light the fixed blue sky is already dotted with "trains" of fluffy clouds. Our plane gently greets these cumulus clouds which are slowly charging with energy according to a daily aerological ritual established since the dawn of time. 

 

The day will be hot and flying this afternoon would certainly be a little more hectic.

 

The crater of the "Longonot" volcano passes before our eyes. A plane crashed there several years ago. Its pilot let himself be caught by the deadly trap of low-level games, making himself a prisoner of the turbulence and aerological bubbling that reigns in this basin.

 

At its foot, Lake "Naivasha" shimmers like a bath of mercury. At the bottom of the Rift Valley, a satellite listening station bursts with whiteness and marks the contrast between the age-old way of life of the Maasai people and the most sophisticated modern technology.  

 

Nakuru is a salt lake where thousands of flamingos migrate periodically depending on the presence and level of the water in which a species of algae develops which these birds delight in.

 

Depending on the time of year, they are more or less pink.

 

Under the curious eye of Marc the "Head Warden" on duty, Philippe Jeorgeaguet attempted the first take-off. He runs, runs like crazy and never seems to be able to get himself off the ground.

 

The altitude and the heat mean that our engines are at the limit of the power necessary for flight. The result is that the pilot has to run for a very long time to finally take off heavily at the edge of the crash.

 

The two Philippes are athletes in great shape and above all they have a moral of steel which allows them to overcome all the difficulties that we encounter. Their skill and their quality allow us to ensure the flights somehow in extreme conditions. They took enormous risks by trusting the equipment and I dare not think of the consequences of a mechanical failure.

 

It should be noted in speaking of risks that Philippe Laville in Amboseli missed a take-off because of the wind which suddenly changed direction at the last moment. I see him with horror crashing with the sound of a propeller bursting, of an engine that suddenly becomes silent. Nothing moves for a moment that becomes eternity... A sonorous "M...." escapes from the cloud of dust which is already dissipating. Everything's good. Philippe, sorry, holds in his hand a dusty thing which seems to be a Leica whose battery box has flown ten meters away.

 

After checking the equipment, fitting a new propeller, he took off again with another camera. Always at the limit, everything is going well this time.

 

The crash happens for the same reason on landing. We stop flights for the day. There is no bodily harm and Philippe Jeorgeaguet performs mechanical miracles.

 

Amboseli (translation: whirlwind) is famous for those little tornadoes of dust that like gigantic stalagmites plant themselves upside down in the earth, suddenly rise to the sky, grow in undulations and disappear just as quickly as they came.

 

I think of a time when I ate at McDonald's to be able to afford my cameras. Today we bludgeoned two of them which, after a thorough cleaning, turned out to be working perfectly well. German technology justifies its heaviness with incredible resistance. Certainly, very few other devices would have withstood these "hammer blows". Besides, Philippe will take one of these two aircraft with him to fly over Nakuru.

 

A pink "tide" turns into a cloud of flamingos escaping in all directions as the parachute approaches. The man hanging from the end of his lines under his canopy flies in concert with the birds. My camera delivers kilometers of film and the spectacle once again is breathtaking. We chose the colors of the wings and the combinations thinking on the one hand of this moment and on the other hand of the contact with the Maasai of the Mara.

 

The Flemings have nothing to envy the Philippians with regard to the length of the race necessary for take-off. With strides that turn into giant steps they take to the air and return to land in the same place with a graceful flight. Their takeoff and landing is sometimes comical. They don't seem at all comfortable with these maneuvers.

 

I feverishly fix my remote-controlled boxes to a pole attached to the pilot's stomach. The eye of the objective turns in turn towards the latter or towards the front according to the choice of the moment. I use a wide angle because of the wide range of sharpness (depth of field) which extends from a few centimeters to infinity. Thus by choosing the framing wisely I manage to obtain the portrait of Philippe wearing his helmet printed "Don't Kill the Elephants"   in the foreground with the flamingos and the other parachute in the background. The trick is to press the electric trigger at the right time. Only chance decides the quality of the images because it is absolutely impossible to know the favorable moment of the shot since no one is looking through the viewfinder.

 

My lucky stars watch over the grain and we were able to copy in photos almost all the drawings that I made in France before our departure on a notebook to show the two Philippe the expected result and the editing of the report.

 

Roland, a friend descended from those English settlers who created Kenya and who lives in this country, accompanies us to Nakuru. He admires these two remarkable boys who are currently flying 10 cm from the surface of the lake.

 

I exclaim jokingly:

 

- " Hey Roland, life is really too hard.... I have the most painful, the most horrible job in the world and these two Philippe really seem to be bored _cc781905-5cde-3194-bb3b- 136bad5cf58d_up there! ..."

 

Roland replies:

 

- "I have the impression that you live your life a thousand times faster and more intensely than most of the people we meet in the lodges."

 

In fact, happiness is a very simple little spark and the feat often consists of wanting to do what you love.

 

On these good words, friend Laville attacks an acrobatic saraband Ö to make the community of pink flamingos green with envy, some of whom miss their takeoff in a splash of the best windsurfing style.   Him if he's not doing what he loves right now...!

 

 

On the way to the Mara

 

An hour flight separates us from "Masai Mara Game Reserve". I know from experience that difficulties await us there.

 

As I mentioned, I lived in this magnificent place where at every moment something always happens and the contemporary history of the Mara is heavy with various facts.

 

A few years ago it was not very rare to see armed gangs bursting into the lodges, shooting at everything that moves. One day, in the early hours of the morning, a group of terrified tourists returned to Governor's camp after barefoot carrying all their personal belongings over tens of kilometers on behalf of armed pirates who threatened to execute them at the slightest protest. Without knowing the laws of the savannah they managed the incredible feat of returning alive in the middle of the night in the midst of wild animals! (Their feet were completely lacerated by acacia thorns)

 

Nowadays, the camps and the lodges are organizing armed militias, the specter of this organized crime tends however to disappear. Even if isolated cases of aggression still exist since during our stay tourists residing at Governor's Camp were shamelessly robbed in their tent during the night...

 

Yet last October near Keekorok Lodge a young girl was found torn to pieces near her car. No one explains the event. The list of these events is long....

 

But in the Masai Mara, by the play of nature, life and death rub shoulders like two good friends. These notions have another value here. This game of nature fascinates modern man and forces his desire to return to his roots, his voyeurism and a certain form of nostalgia for this great wild party.

 

Thus "wagons" of American tourists full of dollars disembark in the Mara. The emulators of Karen Blixen  (Out of Africa) appear in white hunter-style Khaki outfits in the luxurious lodges and sip an exotic cocktail at the corner of the bar while recounting with a little shiver the encounter with their eyes in the eyes with the lion on duty or with a buffalo with a glaucous gaze...

 

Everyone has their own style. We give in to rather garish and fluorescent colors.... but I'm recounting the trip with a head start and we're still in our Cessna 206...

 

A frightened eagle, in front, higher, plunges in disaster and almost hits us...

 

There on our left I recognize the road that goes from Narok to Keekorok Lodge. In the distance, the escarpment that overlooks the green meadows of the Mara can be seen.

 

 

Live scoop

 

By radio I call Keekorok Lodge where the "Chief Game Warden" is. We are confirmed to be there.

 

Having landed, we do not find it. By radio we always learn that he is at Serena Lodge. Never mind, we take off to Serena which is a quarter of an hour away. 

 

The new "Chief Game Warden" has just taken office and he is waiting for us on the track with his deputy. 

 

I show drawings clearly explaining our intention to fly over the animals at very low altitude to take our photos.

 

The atmosphere is heavy and full of innuendo. It would have been very interesting to be able to update everyone's thoughts at this time...

 

I am told that I must request permission to fly from the central office in Nairobi. This has already been done but nothing to do, my interlocutors do not want to hear anything. We all know that the National Parks central office has no authority over this reserve. 

 

Following this dialogue of the deaf we take off again to settle in one of the most prestigious camps in Kenya at the foot of  Ololo Escarpment at "Kichwa Tembo Camp".

 

By radio, and through a friend the Wildlife Department of Nairobi reconfirms me that the authority in the Mara is the local "Chief Game Warden". 

 

I return the same evening to Serena to meet her assistant and explain to her that I am ready to pay the small fortune advised by the central office in Nairobi, but that I am not at all ready to wait until the end of my stay to pay and go away without stealing.

 

I end up getting the requested permission. I know we have to act quickly, very quickly. I establish a work program accordingly: lions first, then photos with the Maasai and I decide to fly only after having taken these shots. 

 

I look forward to the thought of going around the "Balloon Safaris" which evolve not far from there every morning with their full of passengers. 

 

The salaried English pilots who run the business learn that I am the founder of this company and invite me to fly with them.

 

Balloon Safari has become one of the most profitable tourist activities in Kenya today. The business generates several million dollars in profit every year. About twenty balloons fly over the Mara, carrying a dozen passengers each day. (For amateurs, it is better to reserve your place in advance).

 

After 4 years of struggle for the survival of this company, I lost control of it when the evolution of the   technique was going to transform my dream into one of the most formidable "flying" gold mine " of our time. 

 

Unscrupulous collaborators found it more profitable to   so that I ended up stepping away from business in order   to have free rein to organize drug trafficking on the backs of tourists passing through the Masai Mara. They had the  drogue repatriated to France, without the knowledge of these people, in boxes of films "to be developed" by asking them to send the package directly to _cc781905-5cde-3194 -bb3b-136bad5cf58d_ frequent consumers. The traffic ended fortunately in the prisons of Narok County Council (local capital) and in the expulsion and flight from the country of the whole team. 

 

At that time, I was in France struggling with basic survival problems while relentlessly retraining myself to transform   an old passion into a profession as a photographer.

 

But back to our report on paragliders. Having therefore received the green light from the local authorities, we get up very early the next morning. Almost 500 meters from the camp 2 lions eat the remains of a warthog.

 

The light is superb and the orientation of the wind is ideal to allow passages in flight in the right place.

 

Philippe and Philippe are equipping themselves and I recommend that they once again not go lower than the trees in order on the one hand not to disturb the lions during their meal and especially on the other hand not to serve them a meal of substitution.

 

I'll get into position with the car. The ideal would have been to use a telephoto lens and take photos from a great distance. But it was not possible, the tall grass forming a screen would not have been visible in the photo. I will content myself with an image with the animals in the foreground and in the distance in very small: the parachutes...

 

A few tourist cars linger and end up leaving at breakfast time. We take advantage of this and the two Jet Pockets take off.

 

I checked my Leica which are for the circumstance equipped with "wide angles". (Not planning to use the TV, I did not check the camera attached to this lens which remains locked in its suitcase).

 

The parachutes arrive and nothing goes as planned. From the start, the intrigued lions leave their feast and move away, trotting with dignity towards an area where the grass is less tall.

 

In the end I have maybe more chances than expected:

 

Feverishly, with the car, I move wide and I bypass the two felines at high speed to position myself 200 or 300 meters in front of them on their presumed trajectory. 

 

You have to have one eye on the terrain, another on the lions, remember to close the window Ö because of the dust when you brake, recover a device that "jumps" out of the bag, drive with your knees, pass the speeds, calculate in space the trajectory of the parachute and the path that the lions will take depending on the wind, the terrain and the refuge of the nearby forest. On the fly I grab the 280 mm TV box, open it, brake while driving with my knee. I reopen the window, the lions arrive, engine off, I hold onto the door. (to the ranger who accompanies me:  "please don't move". The jumps of a person transmitted to the vehicle can make me take blurry photos) With one eye I put the focus in focus on the lions, on the other I control the trajectory of the paraglider which almost already joins that of the animals. 

 

I try to calm the little inner excitement of the image hunter about to take an important photo.

 

An old habit and a little something in my subconscious makes me check my camera.  Horror! ... the small witness window is empty of film. Feverishly, I change the box. I find almost the initial composition and I start shooting in bursts at the very moment when the first parachute enters the frame. 

 

I recognize Philippe Laville in the viewfinder by his smile. Contrary to all my advice, it flies over the lion's head a few centimeters!

 

For a moment that seems like an eternity to me, the lion turns around, stares at Philippe between four eyes, hesitates, slows down a bit and starts running again.

 

 

He had beautiful eyes

 

"It's great, when I approached the lion, he turned around and we looked into each other's eyes. In all my life I will never forget him. He had magnificent eyes with yellow glitter. In any case, we both understood each other..."

 

On returning to the camp, the ranger who accompanies us pulls me by the sleeve and points in the direction of the carcass: the 2 lions are quietly finishing their feast. He points out to me that this meeting of another kind does not seem to have taken away their appetite and that after all our flying machine is an interesting means of visiting the reserves.

 

We exult because we know that the success of our report is based on these shots. 

 

I don't have the courage to blame Philipe for taking so many risks and I remember doing pretty much the same stupid things at another time. Youth has to happen.... 

 

Our luck is absolutely insolent, especially at this time of year. The rainy season set in on Amboseli the day after we left. We learn that it is also raining in Nakuru and here the weather is fine. 

 

The next day our lucky stars are still watching and we take the last key photos of the report with the Maasai. 

 

After that, the sky or the Gods may well fall on our heads, the subject is as we say in the jargon of the trade "in the box"...

 

 

The gods fell on the head

 

It was written that I would not fly over the Mara because the same evening the secretary of the Narok County Council (I do not know his name because he did not have the slightest courtesy to introduce himself) accompanied by the Game Warden (whose I only knows the first name) comes to forbid us to fly and summons me to his office at Keekorok Lodge. Having only flown for 2 days, I claim without illusion and in vain the reimbursement of the   large sums of money that I paid to have the right to fly and take photos for at least 8 days. The situation is complicated and difficult to understand. 

 

The next day the ranger on duty at the camp attaches himself to our sneakers and follows us everywhere asking us where we are going with each of our movements.

 

It smells scorched and we feel the strong impression of being prisoners. Three hypotheses present themselves to us:

 

The first, for reasons that we do not know, these people want to corner us badly and try to lure us to their land out of the eyes and the testimonies of tourists. In this case we must bring our plane without delay and find a way to reach a semblance of civilization in Nairobi or Mombasa.

 

The second is the alternative of a "commercial" negotiation in which we will still have to pay more money to continue flying or simply to be able to leave in time to catch our return flight to Europe in Mombasa.

 

The third,   would be a very old story. The rumor of a settling of scores in the middle of which we find ourselves by chance is circulating. We would have become the expected pretext for a "local cleaning" session... The future will tell. Whether or not big poaching is intensifying in this region is that this rumor was the right hypothesis.

 

Having the main photos "in the box" we choose the security of an untimely leak. At daybreak we leave the camp quietly.

 

As if to confirm our choice, the rain began to patter on the windshield of our plane as we left the Mara soil en route to Mombasa.

 

With a sigh of relief, I tell myself that the Kenyan authorities should all the same realize   the fact that the Masai Mara is a bit like the showcase of tourism in their country and that there happens a lot. 

 

Kenya's popular tourism industry is currently "surfing" on top of the wave of international success...the "splash" can be very brutal if nothing is done to put responsible and competent people in such important positions. The consequences of such a crash can be disastrous for the economy and the stability of the country if   unfortunately this happens.

 

Once again the volcanic scenery of the Rift Valley presents itself to our eyes and we leave Lake Magadi on the left and Natron on our right with the Ol Donio Lengai volcano (sacred mountain of the Masai) at its end._cc781905-5cde-3194 -bb3b-136bad5cf58d_

 

A little later, as we pass, Kilimanjaro uncovers itself and raises its cap of clouds for a moment as if to greet us.

 

The day in Mombasa goes smoothly and after a feast of lobsters and crabs at the famous "Tamarin" restaurant, we find ourselves without transition in the antechamber of a modern world, flying at 900 km/h at 11,000 meters altitude, pampered by a team of Lauda Air hostesses. The complicity that reigns in our group intrigues them and very quickly they ask us some questions...

 

When I think that for one of my new friends this trip is his first escapade outside our sweet France! 

 

"Long live tourism!" he laughs at the same time.

 

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text by Alain Guillou
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FRANÇAIS TEXT






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GERMAN

 

ALAIN & EWA GUILLOU Reporter Photographer, 5 rue Pasteur 44490 Le Croisic.

France

Tel.: (33) 40 23 22 75 / Fax: (33) 40 23 28 44

 

 

 

WORLD WILDLIFE

 

Der Französuches Fotograf und Hängegleiterpilot Alain Guillou hat zur Waffe gegriffen, einer Leica. Seine Fotos - Flugaufnahmen die er mit dem motorisierten, Gleitschirm gemacht hat - sollens ins Gewissen rufen: Rettet die Elefanten! Denn sie sterben aus, wenn wir untaätig bleiben. Erschreckende Bilanz: Vor zwei Jahrzehnten waren es alleine in Kenio noch eine Viertelmillion dieser Tiere, heute sind es weniger als 20 000.

 

Es war ein gemütliches Picknick. Die Gesellschaft sab'um ein Feuer. Der boy hatte es geschickt angefacht, noch bevor der kenianische Koch alle Utelsilien aus dem Geländewagen holen konnte. Das Essen war köslich. Nun SaB man in lockerer Stimmung beim Kaffee, der selbst aus den zerbeulten Bletchtassenherrlich schmeckte. Die trockene Steppe hatte ebennicht nur hungrig gemacht.

 

Der wind strich sanft um die wenigen Blätter des karg geästelten Baumes, als der Gesellschaft das Trompeten eines Elefanten an die Ohren drang.Der Wildhüter, ein junger Massai, stand auf, lauschte. Doch als er sich lächelnd anschickte, wieder Platz zu nehmen, zerriB plötzlich ein mörderischer Lärm die idyllische Stille.Salven von Schüssen aus automatischen  Waffen dröhnten über ber Massaï Mara : Eine andere Gesellschaft löschte i weningen Minuten eine ganze Elephantenherde aus. Nachdem die Wilderer mit Motorsägen das Elfenbein abgetrennt hatten, waren sie auch schon wieder unerkannt verschunden.

 

Das war vor über einem Jahrzehnt gewesen, an der Grenze zu Tansania. Der Franzose Alain Guillou hatte dammals am Feuer gesessenn dem friedlichen Passeln zugehört, als er jäh mit der Handlungsweise einer anderen Klasse von Menschen konfrontiert wurde. Seine Fotos der toten Herde empörten damals die Welt, doch glaubte Guillou, daB die Bilder zu wenig bewirkt hatten: Die Nachfrage nach Elfeinbein hörte nicht auf. Die mörderische Jagd ging weiter.

 

So schwor er sich, jede Gelegenheit wahrzunehmen, um auf das Probelm aufmerksam zu machen. Doch wer will andauernd vom Ausrotten wilder Tiere im fernen Africa hören?

 

 

Guillou drehte den Spieb um: "Ich muB zeigen, wie schön diese Tiere sind. Immer wieder! Man muB vor Augen führen, wie einmalig diese Gegend ist. Mit aller Eindrücklichkeit!" Guillou begann regelmäBig die Reservate zu besugchen, stets bewaffnet mit seiner Kamera.Bei seiner letzten Reise waren auch zwei Freunde mit dabei: Philippe Laville und Philippe Jeorgeaguet. Sie verhalfen dem begeisterten Drachenund Gleitshirmpiloten mit einem Rucksack-motor-System zu einer fliegenden Plattform, die ihm eine völlig neue fotografische Perspecktive ermöglichte. Das war wichtig, denn je schöner und ausgefallener die Fotos, desto gröBer die Chance, daB sie in den namhaften Illustrierten der Welt erscheinen. Und damit wächst auch die Wahrscheinlichkeitn daB die Hilferufe des Worl WIld Life Found nicht auf tabe Ohren stoBen.

 

Alain Guillous Rechning ging auf: Seine Fotoserie, Rettet die Elefanten 'wurde ein Illustiertenhit.

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Pionierflug übers Paradies

 

Das war wohl die verrükteste FotoSafari in der Geschichte Kenias: Drei französische Abenteurer überflogen das afrikanische Savannen-Paradies mit motorisierten Gleitshirmen. Weder Tiere noch Eingeborene liessen sich allerdings von den "schrägen Vögeln" aus der Ruhe bringen.

 

 

Initiator of wahnwitzigen Unternehmens war Alain Guillou, Fotograf und begründer der Ballon-Safaris über Kenias Naturparks. Zusammen mit sienen beiden Piloten Philippe Laville und Philippe Jeorgeaguet musste er erst mal sämtliche ihnen Kenias Bürokraten in de Weg legten. "Bei den Verhandlungen zog dann in erster Linie ein Argument: etwas Bakschisch hier, etwas Schmiergeld da" erinnert sich Guillou.

 

So geland es drei Musktieren, das ganze Flugmaterial ohne langwierige Untersuchungendurch die Sicherbeits-Kontrollen auf Mombasas Flughafen zu bringen. Und bereits am folgenden Tag bereiteten sich die Walhälse inder Nähe von Amboseli au ihren Flug vor.

 

Zu spät bemerkten sien dass sich in der Nähe ihres Abflugplatzes eiene Elefantenherde befand. Die Dickäuter liessen sich von den farbenprächtigen Schirmen aber glücklicherweise nicht stören und stampften ungerührt an der teuren Ausrüstung vorbei.

 

Der erste Flug verlied reibungslos, und die Elefanten-Aufnahmen waren im Kasten. Nch der Landung kamen die Piloten allerdings doch noch ins Zittern. Zwei Elefanten trennten sich von der Herde und steuerten schnurstracks auf die Gleitschirmmotoren zu. Ihre Absichten waten aber alles andere als böse; Die beiden Elefanten paarten sich in aller Ruhe, nur wenige Meter von Guillous Jeep entfernt.

 

Da blieb sogar dem kenianischen Fürer die Spucke weg: "Elefantenpaarungen bekommen Menschen selten zu sehen. Und schon gar nicht zwischen zwei Männchen wie hier!"

 

Höhepunkt der Gleitschirm-Safari sollten die Flüge über dem Gebiet der "Masai Mara Game Reserve" werden. Während seine beiden Piloten knapp über den Köpfen einiger Löwen schwebten, fotgrafierte Guillou vom sicheren Jeep aus die gefährliche Szene - und schwitzte dabei Blut: "Nicht auszudenken, was passiert wären, wenn ein Motor ausgesetzt oder eine Turbulenz die Piloten zur Landungwätte" -5cde-3194-bb3b-136bad5cf58d_

 

Kaum waren die letzten Löwen-Bilder geschossen, verhängten die Behörden des Naturparks ein Flugverbot und überwachten fortan heden Schritt der französischen Abenteurer. Der Grund für das seltsame Verhalten wurde nicht angegben. Da gleitchzitig auch die Regenzeit einsetzten beschlossen Guillou und seine Kumpane, so schnell wie möglich zu verschwinden und so weitere finanzelle Forderungen zu umgehen.

 

Im Morgengrauen schilchen sich die drei Heldren aus dem Camp, packten ihre Utensilien ins Flugzeug und verkrümelten sich Richtung Mombasa. Zwei Tage später landeten sie sicher in Frankreich.