By the time I reached Yankari National Park, I had already driven from Morocco, through the Sahara to Mauritania, and then westward across to Nigeria. After the barren but fascinating monotony of the deserts, I was looking forward to seeing a bit of greenery, and a few animals. You don't see much wildlife, other than camels, scorpions and jackals, in the desert.

Our tour leader, Dave, warned us that the wildlife of Yankari was fairly average. The highlight of our visit would in fact be Wikki Warm Springs, a natural and safe swimming area in the park. Most people came to Yankari not to see animals, but to relax at the Springs. Dave also muttered something under his breath about baboons. We all chose to ignore this comment, and instead began daydreaming about floating in the cool, clear waters of the Springs.

Yankari National Park came into existence in 1956, as a game reserve. In 1991 it was promoted to the status of a National Park. The park certainly looked like it was built in 1956. In fact, it appeared that it's last coat of paint was in fact it’s first - applied back in the 1950's.

There was an aura of grand decay about the place, with an occasional glimpse of it's former glory showing through. I could imagine safari suit-clad foreigners sitting at the bar, drinking G&T's and discussing the day's game drives. A far cry from the scruffy bunch of overlanders in whose company I found myself.

We were thrilled to hear that we were not permitted to sleep in our tents. The baboon threat was considered serious enough for us to be accommodated in safari huts, called Rondels. My Rondel was indeed luxurious, equipped with an air conditioner that didn't work and a shower that was not connected to the water pipes. I was not sure how I would go, sleeping under a solid structure instead of out in the open, as I had done for the past 3 months.

After settling into my Rondel, I changed and went down to the Springs for a swim. The Springs are located in a small gorge. Clear water which has a year-round temperature of 31 degrees, bubbles up from a source under the rocks. The water is clear and free of parasites, and the floor of the pool is fine white sand. I could not have invented a more idyllic setting. Thick jungle surrounds the gorge, with vines hanging down to the water, and the sound of exotic birds echoing through the trees.

The water from the swimming area runs off into a small stream. I ventured down the stream, floating peacefully along on my back, eyes closed and enjoying the warm water. I was enjoying for the first time in months, the feeling of being totally clean. It was a bonus not having to go into contortions, trying to have a wash with a tea-cup of water, as happened often in the desert.

My reverie was broken as something dropped from above to hit me on the face. I had floated downstream to a bridge, and on the bridge was a colony of baboons. They had seen me coming. Some of the youngsters were hanging from the bridge, upside down, gripping with one hand or foot, trying to get closer to this strange white 'monkey' who had just floated into their domain.

I was hit again, and saw in the tree above me a small baboon picking berries with it's mother. Some of the berries had fallen and landed on my face as I floated under the tree. The parents did not seem at all worried about my presence, so I continued to float and enjoy the antics of these young apes.

The more mature youngsters were practising their grooming, picking fleas from each others’ bodies. Adult baboons loped across the bridge, moving around with a familiarity that told me that this was indeed their territory.

The mother and baby soon left the tree above me and moved to a small sandy beach. With the baby clinging to the mother, they began an intense grooming session. After a short time the baby fell asleep but the mother continued to sit on the beach, haughtily ignoring me but always with one eye focused in my direction.

As it began to get dark, I floated back up to the gorge and made my way back to camp, still marvelling at what I had experienced at the bridge. It was time to prepare for dinner, and being on cleaning duty, I took the broom and went into the back of the truck to sweep it out.

I noticed some movement out the corner of my eye, and thinking it was one of my travelling companions passing by the truck, I took little notice as I continued to sweep. Again I noticed the movement and then heard a grunt. Vivid images raced through my mind of a vicious leopard pacing on the roof of the truck, ready to pounce as soon as I let the broom out of my hands.

I looked up to see an adult baboon casually sitting at the back of the truck, legs splayed and leaning back in a most relaxed manner. He was sitting on top of the cool box, and was taking a swig from a cask of wine. He had found it in our dry store, managed to chew a hole in the carton, and was happily gulping down a litre of Spanish red wine.

The baboon took no notice of me as I slowly backed out of the truck and alerted Dave. Grabbing the broom, and letting forth a grunt not unlike that of a baboon, Dave leapt into the truck, making menacing gestures at the baboon. Unpreturbed, the baboon eventually climbed over the edge of the truck and ambled unsteadily to a nearby tree. He displayed a fine example of what we call the ‘wobbly boot’, not unlike that of any human who had just sculled a litre of bad wine.

Instead of sleeping in my Rondel that night I was one of the lucky ones who had to sleep in the back of the truck. Believing that the drinking baboon was an isolated incident, I thought that having a few people in the truck all night was a bit of overkill. What were the baboons going to do next? Hotwire the truck and steal it?

There really is no end to the cunning and versatility of baboons. I was woken the next morning at 6am by the sound of 5 baboons trying to break into our truck. They were on the verge of working out how to undo the velcro fastening on the truck canopy, when my travelling companions came from their Rondels and scared them away. Peace reigned again, but only until my friends returned to bed.

One friend told of how there was a knock on her door that morning. She looked through the window, and saw a baboon standing on her balcony. The baboons continued their attack on our truck into the morning, until the park wardens eventually came over and enticed the them away with food.

Having now been to the Serengeti and Ngorongoro Crater, I have seen most of the game animals that inhabit Africa. They are all wonderful and amazing, living freely in their natural habitat. But as the saying goes, "when you've seen one giraffe, you've seen them all". The same could not be said of the marauding baboons of Yankari National Park and Wikki Warm Springs.