These Maasai paths take you to our early human ancestors. Here’s how you can hike them

The sun rises, a pink halo on the horizon. On the ground, lies a patch of fossilized human footprints, around 400 of them, criss-crossing the dark grey mudflats of the southern shore of Lake Natron.

Discovered in 2006 by local villager, Kongo Sakkae, from the nearby Maasai community, the footprints were only brought to the attention of scientists in 2008, by conservationist Jim Brett, while he was staying at nearby Lake Natron Camp. Finally, in 2009, the Engare Sero research project, led by Cynthia Liutkus-Pierce of Appalachian State University, began to excavate and analyze the footprints.

Researchers believe the footprints were created by a group of people—14 adult females, two adult males and a child—walking here in wet volcanic mud, somewhere between 5,700 and 19,100 years ago, during the Late Pleistocene period. Scientists speculate the females were foraging together, and were visited by the males, suggesting a sexually divided division of labour and foraging, similar to that of the modern-day hunter-gatherer Hadza tribe of northern Tanzania. Within hours of being made, the mud dried, and with a subsequent layer of volcanic dust burying the footprints, they lay entombed and undisturbed for thousands of years. It’s a snapshot of the social life among ancient East African hunter-gatherers: “These are Homo sapiens—this is us, this is literally our history,” says Liutkus-Pierce.

Northern Tanzania is the country’s most popular safari region. Home to ‘bucket list’ spots such as the Serengeti and Ngorongoro Crater, I’m about to discover there’s more to this part of the world, as I begin The Footsteps of Mankind Trek from the shores of Lake Natron.

“This is different to any other journey you might expect to find in East Africa,” Kenya-born Åke Lindstrom, the trek’s founder, had told me: “Following the story of mankind is a unique adventure, and by getting out there with a local guide and local hosts, you can connect with the place in a way that you can’t in many other situations. It’s also part of a bigger story, the story of man, set in a landscape that has always been changing.”

A howling dust storm had enveloped the landscape a day earlier, but today, the air is still and the sky clear. We know though, that as the sun rises, with it will come the heat. A Landcruiser takes us to the base of the escarpment, reminding us that only two nights ago, our Maasai guide, Samuel Lesikar Liang’eri aka Samwely, had led us on a moonlight climb of Ol Doinyo Lengai, East Africa’s only active volcano, a mountain sacred to the Maasai.

There’s no contact with the outside world here; no cell phones, no internet, no news channels, and best of all, no mirrors. Dinner is fireside, with a full moon overhead. As Lindstrom had told me before we set off, “We want people to get out of their comfort zone and slowly slip into being somewhere different.”

Today, wearing a traditional crimson shuka cloth (typically red and black check), tied like a toga, his ol alem (short sword) tucked into his beaded belt, and a traditional eng’udi or walking stick in his hand, Samwely is ready to lead us on the five-kilometer ascent up the steep hillside for the first stage of our trek.

As we start our hike, Samwely and I talk about his childhood. He grew up in one of the tiny villages in the area. We talk about Enkai, the Maasai god who lives inside the volcano Lengai, now visible from the trail. He tells me how the local people leave offerings at the base of the volcano, praying to Enkai for rain, for children, for more cattle, or for anything else they need. “Enkai is important to us” he says. “He is in the mountain, he is in our hearts, he is in the trees, he is in all the creatures.”

We continue walking, falling into a companionable silence as we ascend the steep, rocky path. Today is market day in the village at the base, and as we climb up, we pass several people descending, with herds of fat-tailed sheep and leggy goats, all destined for sale.

The air reverberates with the sounds of clattering hoofs, tinkling bells and herdsmen’s whistles; a constant reminder that while for me, this trek is a choice, for others, it is survival. Samwely seems to know everyone we see, and we pause to exchange pleasantries and make small talk.

The traditional, semi-nomadic, Maasai lifestyle is a patriarchal one, and one that centers around cattle. The Maasai believe god gave them his cattle to watch over, and the size of a Maasai’s herd (and the number of his children) is a measure of his wealth and indicates his status in the community.

Several hours later, we arrive at the top of the cliffs, breaking for lunch in the sparse shade of a clump of umbrella acacia trees. As we eat, we take in the view across Salei Plains stretching out before us, before the two-hour drive across the grasslands to our campsite at the Gol Mountains.

There’s no road across the Salei Plains—the driver simply points the vehicle in the direction of camp and off we go. We pass zebras, Thomson’s and Grant’s gazelles, and golden jackals who, adaptable and resourceful, trot through the long grass, sometimes alone and sometimes in pairs.

On the other side of the plains, we reach the dramatic cliff faces of the Sanjan Gorge, where endangered Rüppell’s griffon vultures nest and our campsite awaits. In such a remote place, even the simplest of pleasures feel like luxury—a tent complete with camp bed, folding camp chairs, and, most important of all, a campaign-style fold-out bar ready to dispense welcome sundowners.

There’s no contact with the outside world here; no cell phones, no internet, no news channels, and best of all, no mirrors. Dinner is fireside, with a full moon overhead. As Lindstrom had told me before we set off, “We want people to get out of their comfort zone and slowly slip into being somewhere different.” As the fire dies down and we head for our tents, listening to the high-pitched sound of golden jackals yipping and howling into the darkening night.

Olduvai Gorge is one of the world’s most important paleoanthropological sites. A barren, waterless, steep-sided ravine, it was here in the early 20th century that archaeologists Louis and Mary Leakey uncovered some of the earliest hominid fossils, placing the origins of man right here in the heart of Africa.

Just before sunrise, we step out into the chilly morning air to sit by the fire and watch the sky turn from purple to rose gold. It’s an auspicious start to the day ahead and the planned 14-kilometer trek over the mountains.

Today, we’re tracing the northern rim of the gorge, along a rocky path lined with cactus-like euphorbias and the twisted stems of the succulent desert rose. The path is littered with shimmering flakes of mica, that sparkle underfoot, and we spy several prehistoric stone tool fragments, testifying to the age of the trail.

The day is hot and it’s an arduous slog. Eventually reaching an almost-dry riverbed, we follow it to the outskirts of Piyaya village where the Landcruiser awaits us to take us to our next campsite, set on a granite ridge looking back over the route we’ve taken.

In the valley below, young herd boys propel their flocks of sheep, goats and cattle, accompanied by the melodious tinkling of cowbells. Local ladies came to offer us handmade beaded jewelry and trinkets. On the other side of the ridge, Samwely shows us hidden panels of rock art that few outsiders have ever seen.

The most recent of these paintings are only a few hundred years old, most likely painted by members of the Maasai or Datgoga tribe. The simpler paintings, primarily hand prints and finger dots, are significantly older and most likely the work of ancient bushmen, probably ancestors of the nomadic hunter-gatherer Hadza tribe, whose traditional lifestyle has remained relatively unchanged for thousands of years.

That night, we dine beneath what looks like a blanket of stars before we’re serenaded to sleep by nightjars and a diminutive Scops Owl. When we wake, it’s bush coffee by the fire at dawn.

The final leg of our journey is to Olduvai Gorge, sometimes referred to The Cradle of Mankind, sharing its name with the more famous site in South Africa. Tanzania’s Olduvai Gorge is older however, its rocks, fossilized bones and stone tools dating back 2.8 million years; whereas the South African Cradle of Mankind, while once estimated to be 4 million years old, has been revised to between 1.70 and 2.27 million years old.

We drive the last stretch, across the empty rolling plains of Loliondo land, the territory of nomadic tribes. Stretching out for miles in every direction, there are no roads, with only the occasional giraffe or zebra, silhouetted against the horizon, to be seen.

Olduvai Gorge is one of the world’s most important paleoanthropological sites. A barren, waterless, steep-sided ravine, it was here in the early 20th century that archaeologists Louis and Mary Leakey uncovered some of the earliest hominid fossils, placing the origins of man right here in the heart of Africa.

It was in 1976, not far from Olduvai, when they stumbled upon animal tracks cemented in ancient volcanic ash. In 1978, Paul Abell joined the team and discovered what are now known as the Laetoli footprints. These 3.6-million-year-old tracks were most likely made by early human ancestor, the bipedal Australopithecus afarensis, three of whom had walked through wet volcanic ash, leaving a trail of 70 footprints that were preserved—just like those at Lake Natron—by layers of ash from a subsequent volcanic eruption.

These early human feet were more human-like than ape-like, with a ‘heel-strike-toe-off’ gait, the way modern humans walk, although the close spacing of footprints suggests a short stride, which probably meant they had short legs. It wasn’t until much later that early humans would evolve longer legs, giving them the ability to walk further, faster, and cover more ground.

From the ancient footprints left thousands of years ago on the shores of Lake Natron, to these much older ones embedded near Olduvai Gorge, it hits us that we have trekked back through aeons of evolution, traveled through time, and immersed ourselves in a place that few have ever seen.

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The writer traveled with specialist African operator Mahlatini Luxury Travel and her hike was organized by Lake Natron Camp, a luxury eco-camp run by local Maasai, with profits going directly to their village.

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