Picnic at Lava Rock

Fifty years ago, Peter Weir’s Picnic at Hanging Rock turned a bizarre volcanic formation in Australia into the stuff of nightmares. Kenya’s Shetani Lava Flows in Tsavo are no less dramatic — and arguably, even more terrifying. 

Imagine being a Maasai herdsman, peacefully tending your cattle, when suddenly the ground erupts in molten lava, spewing fire and fury seemingly out of nowhere. And this wasn’t in some ancient, mythical past — this was a mere 500 years ago. Understandably, the people believed the devil himself had emerged, and so they named this otherworldly place Shetani — Swahili for demon. Some even say the cries of those buried by the lava as recently as 200 years ago can still be heard on certain nights. Take that, Peter Weir. 

Today, the Shetani Lava Flows stretch across 50 square kilometres of Tsavo West National Park, a vast expanse of folded black lava so rugged and sharp it could shred a good pair of hiking boots in minutes. It’s an eerie, raw and breathtakingly beautiful scene. 

As a retiree with nothing better to do than roam Africa with dear friends (and take orders from a bossy daughter), I found myself on a day’s adventure to Tsavo, tasked with reporting back on whether it might be a good experience for our guests staying at Angama Amboseli.

My travel companions? Joel from West Village NYC, Dave the Aussie surfer, Angama Amboseli Guide Salash and Butler Andrew — who, despite being born in Kilimanjaro’s foothills, had never set foot in Tsavo — and General Manager Collins for good measure. Packed into the safari vehicle with a double picnic (because heaven forbid we starve), we set off at first light. 

Kili was up early, arranging her snowy cap just so, and even Mawenzi made an appearance thanks to recent rains. We pootled along for two hours, headed to the soft Chyulu Hills in the distance before reaching Tsavo. Now, Tsavo is neither the Mara nor Amboseli — think more rugged and fringe-eared oryx or a lesser kudu around each corner.

Another hour later, our stomachs making their breakfast demands known, we caught our first glimpse of the demon through the thick bush. Then, around one last corner, there it was: from horizon to horizon, a sea of black, sculpted lava, both mesmerizing and menacing. We leapt out, ready to explore — until we realised the terrain was not to be trifled with. I made it about 50 meters before deciding breakfast was the wiser choice. 

Standing in the heart of such a wild and unforgiving landscape, camera in one hand and coffee in the other, I was struck by how astonishingly beautiful, cruel, and fascinating this place is. Is it for everyone? Probably not. Would I go back? In a heartbeat. 

Our picnic lunch was demolished at Mzima Springs, another Tsavo gem. Though in my view, Shetani steals the show. That said, Mzima is still a revelation — crystal-clear pools teeming with fish, crocodiles, and hippos, all set against the dry , crunchy lava landscape. It’s like stumbling upon an aquarium in the middle of the African bush. 

If you remember the early wildlife films of Alan and Joan Root, you might recall Mzima: Portrait of a Spring, released over 40 years ago. Watch hippos moonwalking and spotted-necked otters harassing a hapless terrapin — it’s classic. Just in case you were thinking of filming underwater in the African bush, though, a word of caution: Joan once had her face mask bitten off by a particularly irate hippo. Inches closer, and she’d have lost her head entirely. Alan wasn’t spared either — he nearly lost a leg to the same beast. So… perhaps not.