After months of planning, 14 people from across the U.S. set off on AWF's "Great Migration" Safari in Tanzania.

The group included a sculptor, two former military pilots, a retired tour guide, a bookkeeper, three attorneys, an ad guy, and others with a common interest in preserving African wildlife. Most had been on safari before and were already under Africa's spell. For the first-timers, the spell was being cast.

First morning out, we drove through downtown Arusha, passing crowded and colorful open-air markets. Then came miles and miles of farmland, with rolling foothills giving way to mountains that were a sight to behold.

And then we were in the African bush and on to our first private tented camp near Olmalog on the Kenyan border. This exclusive camp is a result of an AWF-aided, community-based tourism agreement with the local Maasai that helps preserve the land as a wildlife sanctuary while providing economic assistance to the natives.

With Mt. Kilimanjaro shrouded in clouds we made our way up a hill adjacent to camp. The camp crew prepared cocktails, and we listened intently as AWF researchers described the organization's efforts to establish a protected corridor between Amboseli Park in Kenya and the lush foothills of Mt. Kilimanjaro.

Later that night we gathered around a bonfire to share some drinks and stories. This became a favorite ritual. It was an anchoring moment with new friendships forming that would only deepen as the days passed. The conviviality continued over meals in the dining tent that were all five star.

Then we'd retire to our tents, which were large and comfortable. Mornings come quickly in the bush, we discovered. All the better for early game drives and fantastic sunrises.

Our next long and bumpy trek (the price we willingly paid for the gorgeous scenery) took us back through Arusha for a presentation at AWF's headquarters before proceeding to the Tarangire National Park Visitor Center designed by AWF. Exquisite glass mosaic panels detailed the wildlife that frequents this area.

With dusk descending, we made our way to the Tarangire Sopa Lodge, complete with running water. Oddly, we found ourselves missing our tents and the bucket showers. Several images of Tarangire are indelibly imprinted in our minds: our sharp-eyed guide Elias spotting a leopard in a large acacia tree; a rainstorm that whipped up, sending herds of elephant charging uphill; and the thrill felt each time we'd spot a new wildlife species.

From there it was on to Lake Manyara National Park. We stayed in Kirurumu, a permanent tented camp perched on the edge of the escarpment. Some enjoyed a late afternoon hike with a Maasai guide. En route, one of our number looked back over his shoulder to see a big golden animal rushing toward him with chest heaving and fangs bared. Imagine his relief to register that it was a big, domesticated, very friendly dog.

At that time of year, Lake Manyara looks more like a pond. Still we were mesmerized by the number of hippo. Another highlight: the scores of baboon planted in our path, barely registering our presence as they chased and/or groomed one another, and lazed in nearby trees or on the ground.

The spectacular Ngorongoro Crater was the next stop, where we stayed at the Ngorongoro Sopa Lodge, perched on the rim of the crater. Several game drives into the crater revealed the promised "wildlife paradise and feast of beauty."

We'll never forget the lioness carrying her cub in her mouth, with our thrill turning to sadness as we realized the cub was injured and could barely walk. Then finding the two full-maned male lions sleeping on their backs farther up the road.

One of our number, who had been to the crater several times, told us we would never see cheetah there. She was nonplussed 15 minutes later when we spotted a mother cheetah with three adolescent cubs honing their hunting skills. Later the sight of a solitary black rhino on the horizon was a painful reminder of how vital AWF's work is in saving these magnificent creatures.

A Maasai village next to the park welcomed visitors, complete with a traditional welcome dance and chanting. We marveled at their intricate beadwork and jewelry. Several of us indulged in a bit of "retail therapy," as our safari leader Peter called it, by bargaining with the natives.

The drive from the Crater to Serengeti National Park included stops at the Olduvai Gorge and our first sighting of the endless herds of wildebeest and zebra that comprise much of the "Great Migration".

Ah, the Serengeti. The waist-high grasses swaying in the breeze and the dramatic kopjes (hills). Our mobile tented camp was set between one kopje with a family of baboon on the cliffs behind us juxtaposed against an imposing cliff that was the home to a solitary leopard. We realized that the only thing between the great cat and his favorite food (baboon) was us.

As we headed back to camp one afternoon, a safari veteran scoffed at the thought of seeing a leopard up close and personal. Not 10 minutes later we rounded a curve and next to a bush -- less than 10 feet from our Land Rover -- a leopard crouched staring right at us. Hands shook as cameras raised, and as shutters clicked the magnificent leopard snarled his displeasure. Then we tracked that leopard as it moved parallel to the road for at least a half an hour.

As we climbed the kopje behind our tents the last night of our safari, our hearts were heavy. We had one last cocktail party with the Serengeti at our feet. We took pictures, we hugged, we laughed, some cried. We knew that we had shared a profound experience, and we promised to keep it alive.

Since returning home, we've shared photos and e-mails and phone calls and visits, and fantasized about our next time in Africa. All of us were humbled by the experience and awed by the dedication of the AWF staff and people like Peter to conserve and protect this magical place.

Early in the trip we asked one of our Maasai guides what the Maasai thought of us Westerners. He smiled broadly and candidly told us that they thought we were all a bit strange. Why weren't we home tending our cattle? Why would we sleep in tents that a wild animal could get into if he really set his mind to it? And why were we taking pictures of anything that moved?

Good questions all. We'll just have to go back to answer them.

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If you're considering a safari, please contact Craig Sholley at csholley@awf.org