On a map it’s easy to misunderstand Loliondo, but take a look from the air - where boundaries evaporate - and you'll see it in the context of the larger ecosystem of which it’s a part.  Get on the ground and the sense of space takes your breath away – this is a land of distant and alluring horizons.

To the east, Loliondo runs into the wild extremities of the Great Rift Valley above Lake Natron, to the south it borders the volcanic hills of Ngorongoro, to the north it borders Kenya’s Loita Hills, and to the west it blends with the Serengeti National Park.

But nowhere will you – or the wildlife that migrates through this area - find anything that resembles a man-made boundary.

20 years later it's the very same things that keep us here today.  This is somewhere with a palpable sense of freedom from rules. You can leave the car behind and scramble up a rocky kopje, walk along soaring ridges with your Maasai guide or - if you feel like it - lie on your back in the middle of a valley 20 miles wide listening to the sounds of the migration all around you.  And you probably won’t see another soul.

And to us, the saving grace and the reason it isn’t over-run with minibuses, is its seasonality and a dogged unpredictability that means that it’ll never appeal to those people who are simply here to tick off the next animal.

Loliondo is a sensational place, it’s scenically magnificent with its wide rolling valleys and whale-backed mountain ranges; at times it can overwhelm with its combination of magnificent wildlife followed by rarified emptiness.  But more than anything, it’s a place to take in slowly, to let the mixture of Maasai culture, rugged wilderness and wildlife slowly soak in.