This trip stems from a promise that El (my better half) and I had made to ourselves - when her exams were over we would take off for a while, travel the world, have a little fun. The aim was to do a wide variety of stuff – some touristy things, some mountains, see some friends and family. Most of this journal dates from notes I took in the evening - I have allowed hindsight to creep in in some places though...

It's so good to be out of the car and stretching our legs. We climb up to the Olmuti crater, with a ranger called Joseph. It's very green, with two big birds sat on rocks in the middle. A large waterfall flows from the rim, but as so often with waterfalls viewed from the top, you can only imagine it without craning perilously over the steep and slippery edge.

No doubt, however, that today was the day of the Masai. We meet men and women, of all ages. Boys and men with the goats and cattle higher up, but also women nearer the villages. They all carry at least a stick, even from a very young age, and many have the spear and club of the warrior. They certainly seem to intimidate our guides a bit - vestiges of previous tribal domination? Our guide notes that they wear red to signify that they are dangerous people and certainly they stand out for miles so it would seem that they don't feel the need to hide from anyone or anything - top of the food chain as it were. Some of the Masai in the rural areas don't speak much Swahili, let alone English. We try to learn the few customary words of greeting etc, but it's complicated as the greeting and response changes according to the gender of the person being greeted or responding.

In the afternoon we descend from the rim of the Empukai crater down a steep sided valley that leads to a lake occupying the floor of the caldera. 100s of flamingos and a saline (or alcaline?) crust round the lake create a fairly unholy stink. It's an impressive sight but doesn't really justify the 'lost world' sobriquet it's sometimes given. In the night El gets up for a pee having heard the sounds of hyena she assumed was some distance away. In fact it would seem not as in the morning we see that it has moved an empty wine bottle for a good sniff. Perhaps it watched as El peed...

After a slow start to the morning, the truck takes us down to the track to the village of Nayobi to get donkeys for the trek. It's donkey market day, and there are loads milling around, all with their ears marked to indicate their owner, but all are seemingly destined for other tasks. After a couple of hours we finally manage to get the required number of beasts and are ready to go. This gives us time to have a wander round. A hundred or so Masai are haggling over donkeys, putting maize through a mechanical thresher, and generally chewing the fat. The Masai lifestyle seems to allow time for plenty of chatting and tourist watching. In fact we are as much observed as observers, quite the centre of attraction.

One guy, who appears to be the village idiot, hangs around us, hoping for a handout. In fact he is the only Masai we meet who asks us for something for nothing. He gets a banana and a symbolic shiny Canadian cent, which he promptly runs off to have valued - not so daft after all. He invites Janine to his hut for a bit of nookie, much to the amusement of the ranger, but she's not interested.

Newly equipped with our four legged friends, we set off walking. It's about three or four hours along the ridge to the camp and we meet loads of Masai on the way - all walking somewhere, seemingly without water or food. One kid gets a whack from his dad for following us too long - not clear whether this is for abandoning his goats or for playing with the tourists? The camp for the night is under an acacia tree just off the path. The donkeys go in a spiney wood kraal for the night and we put our tents up. At one point a couple of warriors come past, plant their spears in the gpound and stare at El for a couple of hours, leaving her somewhat intimidated. They clear off before nightfall, leaving us to savour this peaceful and remote spot.

Back onto the path again as the surroundings take on a decidely lunar aspect. The volcanic deposits have formed a thin crust of rock, which is quite slippery. When you break through this crust, there can be as much as 10 cm of volcanic dust or ashes. This is surprisingly confortable to descend in, a bit like snow, it cushions the falling foot. Good job really as we descend for almost the entire day as we come off the Rift Valley escarpment.

The donkeys aren't enjoying it as much - one loses his load and nearly goes off the path into a ravine, another goes head over heels after badly negotiating a tricky section into a dry watercourse. This last upset looked like bad news for the donkey in question, but it just shakes the dust off and gets on with it.

In the middle of the afternoon we arrive at the campsite and head straight off to the local attraction, the waterfalls. We wash tons of dust out of our clothes and various orifices and admire the funny looking orange green and red rocks. A geologist would probably be fascinated as there is some strange rock strata going on.

Outside the campsite are a group of Masai women selling necklaces, bracelets, hats and water gourds. To get change for a purchase I go to the local bar. Some older Masai and a guy from another tribe are getting pissed on what looks like home brew. They are very friendly and invite me over, although I can't fancy what they're drinking. Not for the last time in Tanzania, one guy is keen to tell me how good tribal relations are in 'TZ', as he calls it - 'people from all tribes drink together, no problem'. I get my change, and El buys some stuff from the old ladies.

There are some particularly proud young warriors in full traditional dress next to the women at the gate. They are quite haughty when we haggle over the price of a photo - the going rate is the same as a fairly elaborate bracelet from one of the old ladies, but they seem to see this as normal. They are fascinated by El's long straight hair - none of the Masai ladies have long hair, but the warriors have long braided tresses. A couple of the less traditional lads speak English and act as guides and interpreters. When we talk to the warriors, we find out that one had killed a lion 5 days ago, after it had eaten a cow. Whatever your attitude to wildlife conservation, you have to recognise that it takes a certain amount of courage to go after a lion with a spear and a little leather shield. You wouldn't get me doing it.

In the morning we drive down to Lake Natron and then come back across the mud and grasslands to the local village. We stop for a coke and I notice that the lady in charge of the bar/store has completely different facial features from the brown skin and slim forms of the Masai. Is it considered beneath the Masai to do this kind of job? The generic medicines in the shop make us smile - I guess 'Chest-Kof' or 'Flu-away' do exactly what they say on the packet. We're just across the lake from Kenya here, and the bar has got the Kenyan radio playing Kikuyu music.

It's quite hot by Lake Natron, so the plan is to climb the Lengai at night when it will be cool. This means we need to get up at midnight which is not good. In addition, the Lengai is a perfectly conical and tapering volcano, and these are never fun to climb. I well remember sitting in some natural hot baths in Peru listening to a French dentist bemoaning the state of his knees after he had come off one of these horrors, Misti. The same angle all the way down means your thighs and kneecaps get no relief, and the ash or cinders underfoot are invariably treacherous.

As a special bonus Jonas, our buck-toothed local guide, sets off at a cracking pace so we're fairly groggy as we make our way up the awkward terrain. Tufts of grass and bush grab at our legs and we slip and slide on the ash surface and the narrow path. Eventually we find some rhythm and by about 5:20 AM we've done 1,600m of the 1,800m between the camp and the summit. In fact it seems we've gone too quickly as we have to sit in a freezing gully for 40 minutes to wait for first light. At the end of this we're very cold and the German party below us in their cotton clothing are even colder.

At about 6:00 am we set off on the final section and begin to understand why we had waited. An easy-angled but rather smooth slab leads up to the rim of the crater. One of the Germans is distinctly unhappy about the plunging view down to the valley floor and, indeed, if you slipped at the best you would scrape yourself badly - if you fell heavily, you could probably go 2-300m which, on the abrasive rock, would be very painful. The top of the volcano is worth the effort and the stress though - one of the most amazing things I've ever seen. An area of white ash covers the whole surface, with smoking fulmaroles, sometimes stained yellow by the sulphur, breaking through. About 50m away is a cone of black cinders. Every few seconds there is a rumble beneath our feet and then a boom and more cinders shoot out, sometimes going 15-20m in the air, before adding to the pile. As well as the sound and vision, the smell of sulphur is very strong, and the air could be described as bracing to corrosive. I suspect it attacks the lungs somewhat as we're all coughing.

Going down is even less fun than going up but, after some knee knackering and careful bum sliding on the steep cheese grater slab section, we make it back down and fold our cramped limbs into the truck for the long drive back to Karatu junction. El's cold has been exacerbated by the wait in the cold and the sulphurous flue gases, and she's having some difficulty breathing properly - not ideal in a dusty environment, a good distance from any medical help.

We've developed a cold beer and hot shower obsession after the week in the dust, so we stop at Karatu instead of pushing through to the wilderness camp on the rim of the Ngongoro crater. There are some Dutch overlanders sharing the campsite with us. The amount of distance they've covered in a week or so makes our trip look like a weekend wander, and the price they quote us sounds pretty cheap. I can't help thinking though that if you're not going into the parks, and hardly get out of the truck, what's the point of being here? The enforced companionship seems to be taking its toll on some of them. When we talk with a lad about one of the trip leaders we were chatting to, he just says laconically - 'oh her, yes she likes to talk'.

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