Kenya is a beautiful country and one of the best places in the world for wildlife safaris. The landscapes vary from wide open savannahs to desert to vast lakes to lush mountain forests. Here you will find an incredible array of wildlife.
Kenya: Masai Mara National Reserve
🦓 Kenya: Masai Mara National Reserve
Masai Mara National Park is located in Kenya along the border of Tanzania and is contiguous with the neighbouring Serengeti National Park. Masai Mara stretches across an area of 580 square miles (1,510 sq km).
Right, where do we start with this one. The Masai Mara is enormous, and we mean proper enormous, not the sort of “enormous” estate agents bang on about when they’re trying to flog you a one-bed flat in Clapham. We’re talking 580 square miles, which is 1,510 square kilometres if you’re that way inclined, and it sits right up against the Tanzanian border, joining hands with the Serengeti next door. The two parks aren’t really two parks at all when you think about it properly — they’re one great sweep of grassland that someone, at some point, decided to draw a line through and give two different names to, purely because that’s where Kenya stops and Tanzania starts. The wildlife, of course, never got the memo and carries on wandering back and forth as it pleases.
We did a bit of digging into how this place came to be, because we’re nosy like that, and it turns out the story goes back further than we’d assumed. The first proper steps towards protecting this land were taken in 1948, when the colonial government set up what they called the Mara Triangle as a game sanctuary, largely down to the efforts of a chap called F.H. Clarke, who was the Assistant Game Warden in Narok at the time and clearly fancied himself a bit of a wildlife champion, tsetse flies and all. Then in 1961, just before Kenya got its independence in 1963, the sanctuary was expanded eastwards to 1,821 square kilometres and reclassified as a Game Reserve, with the Narok County Council taking charge of running the show. Things shifted again in 1974 when part of it was upgraded to National Reserve status, which meant tighter rules, and 159 square kilometres were handed back to the local communities. A further 162 square kilometres came off the total in 1976, and by 1984 the park had settled into the 1,510 square kilometres it covers today. So the boundaries have been wobbling about for the best part of eighty years, which we found rather reassuring — even national parks don’t have it all figured out from day one.
The name itself comes from the Maasai people, who’ve called this stretch of East Africa home for centuries, having originally migrated down from the Nile Basin. In their language, Maa, the word “Mara” means “spotted”, which refers to the way the landscape looks from a distance — all those acacia trees and patches of scrub dotted about the plains like someone’s flicked a paintbrush at it. It’s a lovely bit of naming, when you think about it, far more poetic than anything we Brits tend to manage. We’d have probably called it “Big Grassy Bit.”
The park itself is mostly rolling grassland, gentle hills, the sort of landscape that just keeps going and going until your eyes give up trying to find the end of it. It connects, as we say, with the Serengeti over the border, and together they form what’s properly known as the Mara-Serengeti ecosystem, one of the great wildlife strongholds left on the planet. These two parks are famous the world over for the migration — wildebeest and zebra moving across the plains in numbers that genuinely don’t seem real until you’ve seen them with your own eyes. The wildebeest herd alone is thought to number somewhere between three and four million animals, though quite how anyone counts that lot we’ve no idea. We imagine there’s a poor soul somewhere with a clicker and the patience of a saint.
As we drove around in our safari vehicle, we kept passing little clusters of wildebeest, zebra, impala and gazelle, going about their business as if we weren’t even there, which to be fair, we weren’t really, not to them. Every so often we’d come across a few tourist vehicles parked up together, and in the safari world that’s always a tip-off that something worth seeing is going on — it’s a bit like spotting a queue outside a chip shop back home, you just know there’s something good happening even before you’ve worked out what it is. Following that logic paid off nicely, because it’s how we ended up seeing a couple of leopards and several lions going about their afternoon, mostly by doing absolutely nothing at all, which if you’ve ever watched a big cat for any length of time, you’ll know is most of what they do.
🐃 The Mara River Crossing
Our guide took us down to the Mara River for our lunch, and this stretch of water is rightly famous the world over for the mass crossings that happen here, when great herds of animals work themselves up to the steep banks and decide, en masse, whether the grass really is greener on the other side. These river crossings have been the centrepiece of more wildlife documentaries than we could possibly count, and the reason is obvious enough once you’ve seen one — they’re dramatic, occasionally brutal, and never quite predictable, especially when there happen to be crocodiles lurking at the crossing point waiting for an easy lunch of their own. The Mara River, along with the Sand River and the Talek River, is one of the three main waterways draining this whole reserve, and it’s the most famous by a country mile, largely thanks to its starring role in the Great Migration, which generally reaches these parts sometime between July and October, depending on how the rains have behaved that year further south in the Serengeti.
When we got down to the river ourselves, what greeted us were a few small herds, numbering in the hundreds rather than the thousands, gathered on either bank looking thoroughly unconvinced about the whole enterprise. So we parked up the Land Cruiser and got our lunch out, on the basis that we might as well eat while we waited, and waiting is very much what safari teaches you to do well. For a good long while, nothing whatsoever happened. The wildebeest and zebra milled about on the steep banks, doing that thing where everyone’s clearly thinking “you go first,” and nobody fancies being the one to actually commit. Eventually, four topi — a handsome sort of antelope, if you’ve not come across one — pushed their way to the front of the queue and simply went for it, charging down the bank and into the water. That was apparently all the encouragement the rest of the gathering needed, because a few hundred wildebeest and zebra followed suit in a great splashing rush. It wasn’t quite the white-knuckle spectacle that would have had Sir David Attenborough needing a change of trousers, crocodiles or no crocodiles, but it was a proper treat to watch unfold from start to finish, and we felt rather privileged to have sat there and seen it for ourselves.
🏘️ Visiting a Masai Village
Our guide, Raphe, had asked us the day before whether we fancied a visit to a Masai village, and we’d said yes without much hesitation, the way you do when someone offers you something interesting and you haven’t thought it through properly yet. The day had rather run away with us, as days on safari tend to, what with one thing and another, so by the time we got round to it the afternoon was getting on a bit, and I’d more or less written it off as a missed opportunity. But no — we pulled in at around five o’clock and they were still very much open for business and taking visitors, which was a relief, because we’d have been gutted to miss it.
We were introduced to our guide for the visit, a young Masai man who explained a little of what we were about to see before taking our money, which apparently goes towards funding the local Masai school, so at least you know where it’s going. The Maasai, by the way, are one of the most recognisable cultures in East Africa — tall, striking people, known the world over for their red shuka cloths and elaborate beadwork, and as of a few years back there were thought to be around half a million speakers of the Maa language across the region, taking in not just the Maasai themselves but also the Samburu and Ilchamus peoples too. They were traditionally semi-nomadic pastoralists, moving their cattle, sheep and goats with the seasons in search of fresh grazing, and it’s worth remembering that when this whole reserve was being carved out by the colonial authorities, it was the Maasai who were pushed off land they’d called their own for generations, a bit of history that doesn’t always make it into the glossy safari brochures.
Once we were ready to go, a group of Masai ladies gathered round and began singing and dancing to welcome us in, which was a proper lovely touch and not something you get at your average tourist attraction back home — try getting that sort of reception at the Tower of London. They escorted us through the entrance to their compound, which was circular and ringed by a wooden fence, inside which sat a dozen or so mud and wood houses arranged in a circle, all facing inwards. A gaggle of children, looking tired and more than a bit peckish, were playing in the middle of the compound, getting on with being children regardless of who was watching. We were joined for this part of the visit by a family of four — Germans, we think, going by the accent — two teenagers and their parents, all looking as bemused and curious as we were.
We were ushered into the centre of the compound, where the ladies performed another dance for us, all swaying and singing in a way that felt genuinely warm rather than staged for effect. The father from the other family went and stood right in amongst the Masai ladies during this, which we thought was a touch rude if we’re honest, the sort of thing that makes you wince a bit on someone else’s behalf. Once the dance wrapped up, the ladies paraded past us one by one, giving us all a high-five, which apparently brings good luck — we’ll take it, frankly, we need all the luck we can get. After that, the Masai men took their turn with a dance of their own, which we gather is traditionally meant to attract the attention of the women. It involves an awful lot of jumping straight up in the air, over and over, which put us rather in mind of the sort of pogoing we used to do at punk gigs back in the day, though we’d wager the Masai lads would out-jump us by a considerable margin these days. Once the dancing had finished, we were treated to a demonstration of fire-lighting using nothing but sticks and a spear blade, which was properly impressive and made us feel rather useless with our pocket lighters back home.
From the middle of the compound we were taken into one of the small mud houses, where a single family unit lives. The Maasai traditionally practise a polygamous culture, so when a man marries, his wife builds a family home with the help of other women in the family, and that’s where she, her husband and their children will live. Should the man take a second wife, she builds her own separate house in much the same way. We were taken inside one of these tiny homes ourselves, and it was dark and cramped in there, no two ways about it. There was a main room with a fire where all the cooking gets done, and meat features heavily in the traditional Masai diet. The Maasai used to live a fully nomadic life, but these days they’re settled, raising cattle and goats on the land, and while they do eat vegetables and legumes, these mostly come through trade or by buying them in rather than growing their own. They explained that they don’t grow crops themselves because of the risk of conflict with wildlife, and because of an arrangement they have with the government allowing them to graze their animals on National Park land instead. Besides the main room, there was a guest room, a small space where the children sleep, and a separate room for mum and dad — and rather interestingly, that parents’ room had its own door straight out to the world outside, which we couldn’t help but assume was there so the man of the house could slip away quietly to visit his other family or families without too much fuss.
It was, we’ll admit, a proper relief to get back out into the open air after the tight, dark confines of the house. Outside we were greeted by some very young children, and Karen got chatting to them as she does, she’s good like that. One little lad’s face was covered in sores, and there were flies absolutely everywhere, what with all the cattle about — we couldn’t help but think about the unhygienic conditions these families must put up with day in, day out, and it rather put our moaning about slow Wi-Fi into perspective.
After our time with the children, we were walked out of the compound to a little row of stalls where the locals had set out arts and crafts they’d made themselves. We explained, as politely as we could manage, that we simply didn’t have the room in our luggage for souvenirs, and made our way back to our vehicle, Raphe, feeling like we’d seen something genuinely real rather than put on for our benefit.
Planning your visit to the Masai Mara
| 📍 Location | Narok County, Rift Valley Province, Kenya, bordering the Serengeti National Park in Tanzania |
|---|---|
| 🕖 Opening Times | Daily, 6:00 AM – 6:30 PM |
| 📞 Phone | +254 20 600 0800 |
| ✈️ Nearest Airstrips | Keekorok, Ol Kiombo, Musiara, and Mara Serena airstrips serve scheduled light-aircraft flights |
| 🚗 By Road | Approx. 270 km from Nairobi via Narok town, roughly 5–6 hours by car on partly tarmacked, partly rough roads |
| ℹ️ Notes | Best visited during the Great Migration (July–October). Park fees payable in advance via Safaricom M-Pesa or cashless cards; cash is not accepted at gates. 4×4 vehicles strongly recommended |
🎟️ Entry Fees
| Category | Non-Residents (Adults) | Non-Residents (Children) | Vehicle Fee |
|---|---|---|---|
| Standard Entry | $80 per day | $45 per day | Ksh 3,000 per vehicle |
🚙 Getting There
Most visitors fly into Nairobi’s Jomo Kenyatta International Airport, then either take a short scheduled flight (around 45 minutes) into one of the Mara’s airstrips, or drive via Narok town, which takes roughly five to six hours depending on road conditions. Many lodges and camps can arrange airstrip transfers or guided road transport on request.
The Best Time to Visit Kenya
Kenya is a year-round destination, but when you go shapes what you’ll experience. Each season brings a different mix of weather, wildlife and crowds.
☀️ Long Dry Season (June–October)
This is the prime safari season. Rainfall is low, vegetation thins out, and animals gather near water sources, making wildlife easy to spot. The Great Migration reaches the Masai Mara around July and August, with river crossings continuing into September before the herds head back to Tanzania in October. Mornings can be crisp, especially in the highlands.
What to pack: breathable clothing for warm days with a fleece or jumper for cool mornings, neutral-coloured safari wear, a wide-brimmed hat, sunglasses, sun cream, binoculars, a camera, comfortable walking shoes, and a light rain jacket.
🌴 Short Dry Spell (January–February)
A second, shorter dry window between the rains. Inland it’s hot and sunny, with daytime temperatures often in the high twenties to thirties, while the coast is hot and humid. The landscape is still lush from the short rains, parks are quieter than peak season, and it’s a great time to combine safari with beach time or climbing Mount Kenya.
What to pack: light, breezy clothing, swimwear and a sarong for the coast, a hat and high-factor sun cream, insect repellent, a refillable water bottle, sandals plus sturdier shoes for game drives, and a light layer for cooler evenings.
🌧️ Long Rains (March–May)
The wettest period, especially April, with heavy downpours that can make park roads muddy. The upside is lush, green scenery, dramatic skies, fewer tourists, and the lowest prices of the year. May sees rain settle in further, and coastal weather becomes less beach-friendly.
What to pack: a waterproof jacket and trousers, quick-drying clothing, waterproof boots or shoes, a dry bag or rain cover for camera gear, a compact umbrella, insect repellent, and warm layers for damp evenings.
🍃 Short Rains (November–December)
Showers are brief, usually in the afternoon, leaving plenty of dry, sunny hours either side. Most parks and camps stay open, crowds are thinner, and prices drop. December can turn hot, with wildlife viewing still strong throughout.
What to pack: a packable rain jacket, breathable daywear, a hat and sun cream, comfortable quick-drying shoes, a dry bag for electronics, and a warm layer for cooler evenings.
Summary Table
Overall Best Time to Visit
If you can only pick one window, June to October is the best overall time to visit Kenya, combining dry weather, easy wildlife spotting and the Great Migration. The trade-off is bigger crowds and higher prices, particularly in August. Many seasoned travellers favour September specifically, as it offers excellent weather and game viewing with fewer crowds than peak August. If you’d rather save money and avoid the crowds, the shoulder season of January–February or the rainy months of March–May and November–December offer a quieter, more affordable alternative without sacrificing much in the way of wildlife or scenery.
Zebra Plains Mara Camp
There are many lodges and places to stay around the Masai Mara National Reserve. We were booked into Zebra Plains Mara Camp which is a hotel group with several lodges around Kenya. The lodge is located just a few kilometres from the Masai Mara.
The camp has a small number of tented rooms. Like most these tents are more glamping than camping and are fully ensuite. The tents all look out across towards the Masai Mara, with their own small decks – which is a great place to sit and watch the sun go down.
The large public spaces include a bar and a restaurant. The food was amazing and there was a vegetarian option on each menu,
There are also several sitting areas with are very cosy and one has a big fire pit with seating around the outside.
More to Explore
