The trip Lex and Tom took to the Masai Mara, The Big Adventure, was all I could have hoped for. We got great shots of the Wildebeest migrations as seen from the vantage point of a hot air balloon, a glimpse of how the more well healed are treated when they are "on safari" in Kenya, and the pleasure of experiencing, in a very up close and personal way, Big Tom loaded to the gills on champagne and wine (the first he has ever had while seated at a table) and an entire fifth of Bourbon, washed down with several more bottles of beer. What could possibly top that? Only the memorable image of him, as they say in the frat houses of the USA, "worshiping the porcelain Gods." Only another man, or possibly only Lex, would have found that particular event humorous and endearing. Lex chatted with the cameraman and made affectionate jokes about Tom¹s trashing the bathroom when he Œmissed the bowl.¹

What a card that Tom Buchanan is. Ya' just gotta love him!!

That, I am afraid, was not Mark Burnett¹s finest cinematic accomplishment. Granted he did not put it on national TV for the entire viewing public to see, and I commend him for that decision, but it is on the Internet on the CBS Insider clips for the rest of us.

But I digress.

The part that MB did very well, as he has all season, was to take us somewhere in Kenya and give us a very accurate glimpse of what that place is like. This time he took us to the Masai Mara, which is far away, in every sense of the word, from Wamba.

The Mara, the northern extension of the Serengeti Plains, is the largest and most popular of all Kenya¹s game parks. It has the most photographically accessible game as well. To get to the Mara from Nairobi one can drive a miserable seven hours over Kenya¹s notoriously pitted roads or one can hop on one of the many "milk runs" that fly from Wilson, Nairobi¹s smaller, commuter airport, twice a day.

Airkenya and its fleet of small aircraft, like the one that transported Lex, Tom and entourage (I¹ll bet JP went along on this one), take all manner of small packages, mail bags, emergency supplies and whoever is holding a ticket to the various game reserves around Kenya, and drop them off at each lodge¹s attending airstrip. A few of these strips are just two tracks in the grass and the larger planes cannot land. Most are at least mud and gravel and only partially wash away in the rainy season. Musiara, serving Governors¹ Camp, and its baby sister, Little Governors¹, is one of the better ones.

Big Governors' is a very up-market tented camp that is consistently listed as one of the top hotels in the world. It has thirty, very large tents, each equipped with proper flush toilets and hot and cold running showers en suite. It a good place to bring timid travelers. Although a stay there is certainly not roughing it, (and anything is an improvement over sleeping on the ground and starving to death in Shaba) the camp does retain enough of the atmosphere of the old time safari camps that the experience is not watered down to the point of being meaningless. Many of the newer tented camps in Kenya have taken the "luxury" idea too far, adding marble baths, electric lights, and overhead fans. Other than four green canvas walls, there is little left to remind someone that they are in a tent at all. Little Governors', located just across a bend in the Mara River, is reached by means of a small boat. Other than that, it is essentially the same setup, only smaller by half.

In the normal course of events, the balloons take off at dawn from behind Little Governors¹, but Lex and Tom¹s flight appeared to take off right in front of their tent at Big Governors¹. It also seemed that MB had rented out the whole of the camp or certainly the row of tents that faces the river. There was no one around. It was high tourist season when they shot that sequence and Governors¹ is sold out months in advance. But MB needed to be sure that no one, especially an American who might later be able to identify those two very scruffy characters (no fancy safari outfits from Abercrombie and Fitch for our two!) and their ever- present camera crew, would see them. Or, as it turned out, hear them.

This was a fairly pricey 18 hours. It cost about 400 dollars a person for each of 16 seats in the two balloons MB commandeered and a few hundred dollars per person, per night, to stay at Governors¹. The charter airplane was over a grand each way. The African fellows were the cheapest part of the deal. Although having personal servants seems, to most of us, the ultimate luxury, that is not the case in Kenya. It¹s just a matter of labor and there is always plenty of that. And very cheap labor, too. With a huge population and never enough employment, you can always get someone to perform any task, no matter how mundane or odious, (cleaning up after Big Tom¹s run in with Jim Beam?) for very little money. Those fellows at Governors', the cook and the waiters, probably make about 75 dollars a month. And tips, of course.

The next very authentic moment on this safari was the encounter with the balloon pilot. Had one of the ladies from Moto Maji been there, it could have been perfect.

There are usually about fifteen hot air balloon pilots spread among the different lodges in the Mara. Known as "The Most Dangerous Animals in the Mara," you only have to be in Kenya for five minutes, barely through passport control, before you hear about them. One of them has been there for far too many years, and his business card lists him as a balloon pilot on one side and a Œsex maniac¹ on the other. One story goes that another pilot once took a Polaroid picture of himself in all his erect, male glory, and sent it to a woman¹s tent with a note attached saying, "Do you think you are ready for this?" And she was.

These men have women crawling into their beds, room keys stuffed into their back pockets, and notes left for them in the "guest book." The most infamous entry read "For the sexual encounter of a lifetime, come to Mara Buffalo, tent three, tonight at ten."

It seemed to me that carrying on with a balloon pilot was a rite of passage that every female tourist felt she must experience, part of the "Complete Safari Experience,"

It should be written up in all the brochures: "During your once-in-a-lifetime safari to Kenya you will experience the following things: perfect weather, two game drives a day in the world¹s most beautiful game parks, all meals a la carte, and all taxes and tipping prepaid. Regrettably, hunting is no longer permitted in Kenya, and you may not take a lion home as a trophy. But, we can assure you, you will certainly be able to score with any one of the balloon pilots."

I can see where these fellows might have some limited appeal. They are all a reasonably good -looking bunch, easygoing, chatty, usually tall and slim, and they all seem to have blue eyes. And they are, for the most part, Europeans with those accents that American women find so irresistible.

The other salient ingredient in this easy seduction is that the very real danger of ballooning is a turn on. Once aloft in this contraption, you are hanging, powerless, hundreds of feet in the air, in a wicker basket, beneath a ten- story piece of rip stop nylon. It is held together with nothing more than a few strips of Velcro. Only Mr. Handsome Pilot stands between you and certain death. As you begin to relax a bit and listen to his wildlife spiel, you realize what a Sensitive Soul he has. He really Cares about the Land and the Mara and the Rhinos and Saving the Baby Elephants. He becomes more appealing with every bird species he identifies.

Getting a crush on a balloon pilot is very much like falling for a Great White Hunter, only quicker.

Upon a "sporting" but safe landing, the usual sequence of events is for the passengers be handed a glass of champagne and the females one of the pilot¹s most winning smiles. As you stand on the plains of the Mara with the sun barely up and all the glories of Africa surrounding you, breathless from the whole experience, he pours you another glass of champagne, crinkles his blue eyes at you, and says something witty. It can be very intoxicating.

After several glasses of champagne, everyone gets ready for the outdoor breakfast they usually serve. This is affectionately known as the "Heart Attack Special" as it consists of fried eggs, fried mushrooms, fried bacon, fried sausages, and fried toast. It is fun to watch them prepare it, as they cook it over the burners used to heat up the air in the balloons, but the cholesterol level is record breaking. Tom and Lex were treated to their own breakfast complete with champagne. There is footage on the CBS Insider if you feel you need to see our two heroes having yet another meal together. But it was edited out for the broadcast.

The other truly authentic Kenyan touch was the fact that the whole sequence was shot at Governors'. Five other lodges in the Mara offer balloon safaris and they are al competitively priced. Granted the flight from Governors' is the longest and you get the most for your money. The prevailing winds are dependable and the distance to the Tanzanian border, which cannot be crossed, is the greatest. Flying over the Mara River also affords you the opportunity to spot hippos and the game in the plains south of Governors¹ is always plentiful. Witness that fabulous Wildebeest take down. That was spectacular! Seeing a kill like that one is rare indeed.

But most people who take a balloon flight in the Mara only do it once and therefore have no basis of comparison with what it would be like to fly from another lodge. Lex and Tom would have been thrilled no matter where they were.

Filming at Governors' and showing us the Governors' Camp logo on the side of the Land Cruiser was product placement at its finest. MB is well known for pouring Mountain Dew at every opportunity and flashing Visa cards and Reebok everything at the drop of a hat. But this was politically savvy as well.

Governors' is owned by Ari Gramaticus and he has a partner named Bill Ntimama. Ntimama is a very large, in frame as well as political clout, presence among the Masai. And the Masai are the second largest tribe and the landholders of some of the most valuable and income producing land in Kenya. He also just happens to be extremely tight with President Daniel Arap Moi. In order to get anything done in Kenya, never mind shoot a TV series, get a no fly zone posted over an area of a game preserve that is also shut down to tourism for two months, quiet any protests in the local area about the use, or heaven forbid, misuse of the land, have the Kenya Army at your disposal, to name a few, it would help if you were very chummy with President Moi. In choosing to make use of Governors' Camp, Mark Burnett had very good advice.

And lastly there were the beasties. We got to see the beasties. Not only are the Wildebeests (Brindled Gnus, for all of you who are taking notes) absolutely ridiculous looking, an animal quite obviously designed by committee, but they are equally comical in their behavior. They make this absurd honking noise and seem to spend most of their time following their own tails around. They are one of nature¹s greatest clowns. To have several million of them in one place wandering about doing very little that doesn't spring from just pure instinct, the firing of ancient neurons across the synapses of those tiny brains, is quite unforgettable. They alone are worth a trip to the Mara.

And so, once again, I have to give a large round of applause to Mr. Burnett and company for giving us another location specific and very authentic few moments in Africa. I know Lex and Tom had a good time, but so did I.