Nairobi and the Coast

The days following the Mount Kenya hike left me feeling incredibly hungry. This was not a bad thing though as on the Saturday I teamed up with a few guys from the Milimani Backpackers and headed to Kenya’s most famed restaurant, Carnivore. Not your typical travellers choice of eatery, as it costs about thirty dollars for the meal, it is definitely one of the treats that anyone visiting Kenya’s capital should experience. Much the like Rodizio restaurant’s of Brazil it is an eat as much as you can affair and see’s waiters and waitresses dressed in zebra aprons bring long skewers to your table loaded with various meats. All the classic cuts are there, beef, chicken, etc but you also get to experience some more exotic meats like crocodile and ostrich.

The following day saw the final game of the Kenyan premier football league and we decided to check out the match in Nairobi. In stark contrast to the English premier league the quality of play was atrocious. I imagine that even our local pub Sunday team would have played better and more elegant football. Nonetheless the atmosphere was great to experience. From the local kids who, whether they knew it or not, danced some incredibly lude moves to the bottle hurling thugs ion the front rows who’d put argument to the hooligans of the British leagues.

Having spent several days in Nairobi recovering it was time to press on. Every Monday, Wednesday and Friday an overnight, long haul, train departs Nairobi station for Mombasa. At the hostel I had met a Dutch guy, Lenny, who was heading the same direction. We’d booked tickets and on the Monday night we caught a taxi to the station and were soon nestled into our compartment. The train network in Kenya is a relic of the English occupancy here and the carriages themselves are around sixty years old. The train pulled out of the platform on time and as dusk turned into night we enjoyed dinner on the old, rattling, locomotive. The sleeping compartments were comfortable and waking with the rising sun the following morning we looked out over the rolling, hilly, planes of the Tsalvo national game reserve. The countryside of Kenya reminds me, in many ways, of the landscape of Brazil. Huge palm trees, green pastures and village life. The train was not the quickest though and often times would stop alongside some of the small townships. Here children would run up to the windows of the train, spying the “Mzungu” (white man) and shouting “jambo” (hello) before putting their hands out and asking for money.

 
The green lands gave way to industrial sites and rubbish tips before we arrived into Mombasa. Nairobi had been quite cold (compared to the forty degrees I’d had in Egypt) but stepping onto the concrete platform I was once again in searing heat. On the southeast coast of Kenya Mombasa is Kenya’s second largest city with a little over 650,000 inhabitants. Unlike the capital there are no high rise buildings here. The streets are packed with Tuktuks and taxis and buses. There is a real mix of cultures with Indian, Muslim and Christian faiths all present but living in complete harmony with each other.  On the way to the Mombasa Backpackers, the location of which is not the easiest to find, I was shocked by the appalling conditions in which people lived and worked on a daily basis on the Nyali road. Corrugated shanty town doesn’t cover the squalor that people exist in here. It’s a terribly sad sight, like the slums of Sao Paulo and Rio De Janeiro. The beaches on the other hand are nothing short of breath taking. Pure white, fine, sand stretches for miles in either direction and the ocean is the colour of that represented on postcards. Dazzling beauty that you have to see for yourself to believe.

I only spent one night in Mombasa to begin as I caught up with a couple of others from the hostel in Nairobi. They were heading north to the island of Lamu and I decided to join them knowing I would have to return to Mombasa before crossing the Tanzanian border. Early the next morning and we were on a bus travelling north through yet more lush, green, landscape. It was around an 8 hour journey to Lamu and after the town of Malindi, around the half way point, I was beginning to wonder why it would take so long as we had only be driving for about 2 hours or so. I soon found out when the road began to disintegrate a potholed dust track. For close to five hours we were tossed around like the salad of a gourmet restaurant’s kitchen. The port for the ferry crossing couldn’t come soon enough.

Lamu island is untouched by any motor vehicles bigger than small motorcycles and the view of Lamu town from the ferry was beautiful at sunset. All along the waterfront little wooden boats, called Dhow’s, were moored after their days fishing or snorkelling excursions. Locals sat on the harbour walls greeting the Wzungu (white man - plural) ready to guide unsuspecting travellers to various hostels where they would receive a commission.

Fine living is definitely the theme or the Lamu archipelago and the pints of pure fruit juices were exquisite, as was the fish. The town of Lamu is little bigger than a sea front parade and a couple of back streets. Roughly 3 or 4 kilometres from this cobbled street centre, where locals continually pitch the various Dhow boat adventures, is the stunning beach of Shela. Sweeping around the South west peninsula and all along the southern side of the island it is a vast paradisiacal location facing both the other islands of the archipelago and also the open Indian Ocean. Throughout the day you see people learning to windsurf, Dhow’s drifting past in the breeze and local merchants hawking wares. Our favourite of the few days was Mahmood, the stoned Lamuian whose wife bakes Samosas for him to sell on the beach. Often he would sit with us and fall asleep until we roused him to potential customers walking past…he sometimes didn’t make it to them before returning to us and sleeping again.

On the final evening of the stay on Lamu a group of us went for the sunset cruise on one of the Dhow’s. Our captain was Musini. A short, slim, Kenyan with a wide smile, reflective sunglasses and a trilby hat. Along with two other crew members he sailed us around the archipelago as the sun went down over the back of Lamu. With a gentle evening breeze the wooden vessel cruised across the calm waters with ease. Several of us had a go at "walking the plank"...walking out on the balancing beam that extended from the side of the boat. We stopped at a floating bar in the middle of the waters but unfortunately there was too much cloud on the horizon to get a stunning sunset. Nonetheless we enjoyed the sailing and we had a farewell dinner on the waterfront of the most delicious tuna fillet I have ever tasted (not complete without our mandatory fresh fruit juice).

The following morning and we waved goodbye to Lamu from the overcrowded and perilous ferry boat back to the mainland. Overloaded with children, adults and the aged I wondered when the water would start pouring over the low sitting sides. Fortunately there was no wind in the air and the water was dead calm reflecting the early mornings sun.

Once again we endured the crazy bouncing bus ride back south stopping this time in Malindi for the night. Around thirty kilometres from this Italian ex-pat colony is a massive land depression, called Hell’s Kitchen, in a place called Marafa. Reached by yet another treacherous road we hired a taxi for the afternoon and wound our way through rural Kenya in the searing afternoon sun. Formed by erosion from rain on sandstone Hell’s Kitchen is described as a place not to miss. It would be like going to Arizona and not seeing the Grand Canyon. The view from the top was breath taking. The huge red, yellow and white sandstone cliffs were incredible. There was a trail that led through the canyon and into the bottom. The bed of the gorge was soft sand/silt where the rain continues to erode the sandstone but was easily walkable due to the heat evapourating the water from the days gone by.

You can come here every few years and the canyon will never look the same as the erosion is so great. Truly remarkable. In the evening we caught the sunset from the Malindi beach pier and had dinner by the beach.

Later we headed to a local bar for some drinks. The bar itself was fairly interesting as the decor was that of a tacky 1980's disco lounge and the music, to begin, was well suited to the decoration. There were two slightly unnerving issues I had with the bar to begin. Firstly there was not a single girl in the place except for Sara and Ali who were with us, secondly, just after we had entered the bar they had closed the doors behind us and padlocked them. At this point I didn't know the main entrance was hidden around the otherside of the bar. I asked Christoff, one of the chaps who'd been with us all week, about the female situation and he said it was normal. In Africa you don't generally find many women in bars very early. The ones that arrive later are generally all prostitutes as well. Hmmm!

All turned out well in the bar though and we had a great last night together. In the morning we all parted ways and I was once again on my own and heading to Watamu. A beautiful little fishing village on the East Coast between Malindi and Kilifi it is the place of dreams. Long white sweeping beaches, that give any of the stunning beaches of Brazil a run for their money, it is a perfect place to spend a few days relaxing (as I haven't done much of that!) and soaking up some sun. With Kilimanjaro lurking around the corner I was still concious of my need to maintain fitness. I'd been running as much as I could. The scorching hot sun makes it very difficult to do anything, let alone exercise, so I had been running at the crack of dawn almost every other day on the beaches. I maintained this in Watamu even though I became super lazy and spent the rest of the day basking in the sun and eating food when it was either too hot or when the sun had gone down. Before I knew it another four nights had passed. Tropical paradises really do make time fly by and it was time to head back south to Mombasa.

I had but a few nights left in Kenya. From the Masai Mara's rolling green pastures to the peak of Mount Kenya. The stunning beaches that run right along the entire coast of this Indian Ocean adorned country I have been totally enthralled with Kenya. I will be sad to leave but onwards and upwards as they say, and quite literally in my case, as I head to Moshi in Tanzania where I will begin my Kilimanjaro trek on Wednesday. Wish me luck!

Mount Kenya

Monday morning I woke after a good sleep full of anticipation. At around 8.30 am I was picked up from the Milimani Backpackers and taken to Sana Highlands offices again. In the office I was greeted by Sami. Sami is young-ish looking Kenyan fellow, dressed in full hiking gear, he was to be my guide for the next four days. I was prepared with two bags. My day sack and my main rucksack with just a few essentials like sleeping bag, warm clothing and first aid kit. Sami remarked that my main holdall was light which was good - especially as he was going to be carrying it for the duration of the trek.

We walked the short distance to the mutatu stand on Luthuli Avenue and we found a transport heading to Nanyuki, a town on the northern border of Mount Kenya. Heading out of Nairobi I was once again on a heavily potholed and bumpy road. We were heading north, north east out of the Kenya capital and as we travelled I noticed we were following the course of a major new arterial project under construction. A new super-highway linking the north to the south. Maybe this is part of the massive road being constructed by the Chinese linking northern and southern Africa? Several hours later, as we had climbed into the Mount Kenya park, the air grew colder and the cloud darker. The rain came and went frequently but was ever present in the gloomy sky.

We stopped near Naro Moru, the North Western entrance to Mount Kenya. We were running behind schedule so Sami disappeared to sort the food supplies at the supermarket whilst I sat and ate lunch in a tiny little café by the side of the main road. A small shanty town comprised of more of the corrugated tin shacks with a few concrete block buildings it was a remote Kenyan township. I was taken to meet Charles, our cook/porter for the excursion.

Moments later we were bobbling along the crumbling road around the national park before we turned off onto a muddy track that lead towards the Naro Moru gate. We stopped at a large, newly constructed, building complete with official looking gate to the Mountain. The peaks were totally masked by cloud making it impossible to see the task ahead. I was slightly disappointed not to be able to see the summit and my objective or gain a photograph.

At the gate Sami took care of the formalities whilst Charles and I packed the bags with food and kitted ourselves out. I adorned my full rain gear with my hiking boots etc. Charles was wearing trainers. Evidently it turned out that his boots were locked up somewhere and the man with the key was in east Kenya. Charles and I headed off whilst Sami finished the paperwork. The track leading up the mountain was sodden and extremely muddy.

The Naro Moru gate was nestled at 2400 metres and our objective for the afternoon was to reach the Naro Moru River Lodge at 3058 metres altitude. As we trekked up the rain soaked track the heavens opened on us and we had to spend the next two hours or so hiking in the torrential rain. Sami had caught up before long and together the three of us reached our first camp some time around 6 pm.

Dinner was a massive plate of roasted potatoes and beef and vegetable stew, ample cups of coffee and tea were supplied and fruit after the main course to help the digestion, it was pretty cold at 3000 metres so the warm cups of drink were very welcomed.

In the morning we set about hiking to the Teleki lodge, some five or six hours hike away, after a big breakfast of eggs, toast and pancakes with jam along with tea and coffee. We left the camp around 7.30 am and headed straight up the path. A kilometre or two up the mountainside we passed the met station and as we did so we turned off the main track and began heading across more rugged terrain.  For several hours we continued to climb. The landscape began to change from the dense rainforest where, I was told, you would find antelope, elephants and even leopards, to a more open marsh land. The ground under foot became much more soggy and for a long time we had to tread on tufts of think grass which were the only solid footings.

After some hours the mountain side began to level out and the ground became firmer. It was still raining, as it had for most of the time I was on the mountain and the trail was sodden with water. We passed a group coming down the mountain, those who had gone the day before me, and they looked weather beaten and downhearted. They had completed the summit hike in the morning and where undertaking the long hike back down to the River Lodge. I would be undertaking this same, challenging, task the following day. Their mood didn’t do much to lift my spirits at this point as I was getting slightly down beat due to the constant pounding by the elements. We made it to Teleki lodge some time around 2 pm.

At the camp we were the only guests. Charles and Sami headed into the kitchen area whilst I pottered around for a while taking some photos and made another video blog and then rejoined my companions. Lunch of super noodles, mixed veg and bread had been prepared. Soon afterwards Charles had already prepared yet another meal of rice and vegetables and more fruit. I was still feeling full from the previous meal but they insisted that I ate. I managed a small portion but I began to feel slightly worse for ware with stomach ache. I opted to lie down for a while. Knowing full well that I would have to be up for around a 2.30 am departure to attempt the summit climb I wanted to rest. It was already around 6 pm and then I started taking a turn for the worse. My stomach was really playing up and I had a suspicion that it might be something to do with the water I had taken from earlier that day. Although I had had two bottles of mineral water they had gone rapidly and so had both my fizzy drinks. Charles had boiled water and refilled my mineral bottles but I don’t think he boiled it for very long therefore not completely sterilising it. I had been a bit foolish and not used my chlorine and neutralising tablets this time. I got a bout of the runs. For the next six or seven hours I had to frequent the remote and freezing cold outhouse. A corrugated tin shake with wooden floor suspended over a pit there was nothing but a square hole in the floor to aim for, not easy when you are freezing, squatting and in pitch black.

At 2 am I had had virtually no sleep and was feeling terrible. I told Sami about my circumstance but told him I still wanted to attempt the summit. The night before I had also agreed to descend via a different route, the Shipton camp route, which he told me had a nicer descent. At 3 am Sami and I left the camp and headed off in the dark with torches and packs loaded with drinks and some of my remaining biscuits. I had managed to eat a little popcorn and some biscuits Charles had laid out before we left and so we ploughed on. It was cold but the sky was clear which was a great indicator for conditions at the summit. After a while of almost no gradient we began to climb steeply. The ground turned from the solid, stony path to the looser scree commonly found on the side of high mountaintops. We ploughed on. My stomach felt bloated. The higher we climbed the colder it became and the ground beneath became slightly frozen.

A vague light began to appear at the top of the mountain as the sun’s first rays began to creep into the sky. After several hours of “pole pole” (slowly slowly) hiking we reached the top of the ridge. I found myself on a plateau on the saddle of the peaks and in front of us was the Austrian Hut. The highest most camp of Mount Kenya. At around 4800 metres it was bitterly cold as we took shelter in the hut for several moments. I drank some of the warm water that was in my steal flask along with some of the cold water in my plastic bottle and also ate some more biscuits that I shared with Sami. After a couple of minutes lingering we set off again. It was best not to hang around any longer because of the cold. At this point all I wanted to do was get my sleeping bag out of the backpack and curl up in a snug and warm ball.

We headed out. The ground was now totally covered in snow. The snow had become more prevalent as we had approached the Austrian Hut before hand but now the ground was totally covered. We continued to ascend. The climb to Lenana point lead us along a ridge with fairly sharp slopes on either side. At this point my vertigo was going nuts. I concentrated on the firm ground, or not so firm at times as the snow gave way under my feet, and plodded on. As we approached the top the view became spectacular. Unrivalled beauty sprawled in every direction. To my left I could see the two peaks of Batian (5199m) and Nelion (5188m). It’s not possible to hike to the top of these peaks, they can only be conquered through technical climbing.

At just before 7 am I stood on the peak of the Lenana point and Sami took the most amazing photo of me standing next to the pole adorned with the Kenyan flag. I was over the moon for having reached the summit, something not hours before I had doubted I would achieve. The views across the region were spectacular and I absorbed them all but the clouds were moving in and we had to get moving and get down and more importantly get warmer.

We descended on the opposite side of the peak and I saw why Sami had recommended this route. It was very easy going down. We followed the hikers tracks that were in front of us and with in fifteen to twenty minutes we had already began to leave the snow covered slope and were sliding comfortably down the scree. On the way down we passed a group of English guys, perhaps army personnel, climbing towards the peak. They were all carrying their own, fully loaded, packs. Twenty to thirty kilo rucksacks with full supplies and equipment no doubt. I didn’t envy their task and just as Sami and I reached the bottom of the descent to Shipton the weather really began to close in and the rain and sleet began to fall.

At Shipton camp Charles had already arrived. He had left Teleki at around 5 am and had approximately five kilometres to hike, climbing over 4600 metres at points, to reach the camp where we would have breakfast. So far that morning Sami and I had hiked over twelve kilometres and ascended, and then descended, eight hundred metres of altitude. Although this doesn’t sound like much when you begin from 4200 metres it is incredibly tough. The air is terribly thin and I have no doubt that without all the training I have been doing over the past 6 months or so then this would have been a far tougher challenge than it already was and I probably would have failed. My complete lack of sleep and stomach ache had been really tough to take but I had made it.

Sitting in the kitchen area of Shipton Charles handed me a plate of fruit. The night before I had been rejecting food but my stomach was now beginning to feel better and I was able to take on essential calories. He then gave me a plate of French toast and pancakes with jam. Hot chocolate was also very welcomed having much needed sugars. I had but an hour at Shipton before we set off again on the next part of the day, a fifteen kilometre hike to the overnight camp at 3300 metres altitude.

The weather was, once again, appalling as we traipsed along the valley basin in the wet, boggy marshland. Torrential rain that turned to sleet hounded us for hour upon long hour. After several long kilometres the path began to lead upwards. I had been lead to believe that the last of the ascending was over, how wrong I was. The next three to four kilometres saw us hike up and down two more ridges. The rain had caused the ridges to become river after river running down the slopes. It was horrendous to walk on. You had to watch were you placed every foot in case you vanished into a hole filled with water. I was extremely tired, incredibly low on energy reserves, I’d been walking for over ten hours by this point and I really needed sleep. Charles headed on by himself, the machine I called him, as he continued to plough on in nothing but a pair of trainers with some plastic bags around his socks to keep his feet dry. Within a matter of minutes he was gone from view. His strength and stamina were incredible. Sami stayed to continue to guide me and help me make the last legs of the day's trek. As we reached the top of the final ridge the Met station came into view. We began to descend once more and the ground became firmer and easier to tread. The rain had eased slightly and just as I was about to give up on reaching the next camp I saw the green, corrugated, metal roof appear on a point perhaps a kilometre away. It was all I needed at that time to make me summon the energy required. The thought of a bed, dry clothes, shelter from the rain and cold drove me on and before long we had made it.

All the way down the only thing I wanted to do was sleep. Just as I was about to lay down to get my much deserved rest Charles told me lunch was ready. I really didn’t feel like eating but in hindsight it was essential. I had burnt over 7000 calories this day and my body badly needed food as well as sleep. I ate as much of the noodles, vegetable stew and bread as I could and then went and slept. I slept for about four hours before I was woken by Charles at the dorm room door. Dinner was ready, I didn’t feel like eating again but I had, it appeared, no choice. Chapatti and vegetable stew was served and I ate as much as I felt I could at that point. I was feeling better and my stomach had stopped hurting but I was still not 100% on that front. After eating I went back to bed and slept, and slept, and slept.

Around 6.30 am I woke. I had slept for nearly fourteen hours in total and was now feeling totally rejuvenated. We set off some time around 8 am and began strolling down the track to the exit gate. It had been very windy when I woke in the morning but by the time we began the descent it had eased and the sun was shining. As we started walking it began to get very hot and soon I was stripping off the waterproof and insulating layers and was striding comfortably down in nothing but a t-shirt. It was a beautiful way to end this spectacular hike. The sun was warm and energising and we made it down in virtually no time at all

We had been dropped at the entrance gate by car but due to the persistent rain over the past few days the track up to this gate was impassable by car unless you had a four wheel drive, which we didn’t. Instead two motorbikes rattled over the ridge at the top of the road. My bag was strapped to the back of one and I was handed a helmet. I climbed on the back of the bike with my bag on whilst Sami and Charles, with his massive backpack on his back, clambered on the back of the other bike to make it three people on the other machine. It was nine kilometres to the main road down a mud caked, water sodden road. As we descended we passed several rural areas of Kenyan habitation. Villagers stopped and looked on as the pair of bikes loaded with hiking gear and people passed by. “Jambo” the little children would shout (hello) or "Mzungu" (white man). It was a precarious ride down but it was an entertaining way to reach the main road.

At the bottom as Sami paid the drivers two locals, who had been dropped off by a matatu, approached me and began to ask me questions about the mountain. They were curious and excited to see me but perhaps some of the least educated people I have encountered. That said one of them spoke enough English to ask me some details of my trip and would constantly shake my hand, nearly ripping the arm out of the socket. The other, who claimed to be a veterinarian (I highly doubted it due to his severe lack of intelligence or ability to see straight), just mumble incoherent ramblings in my general direction. Sami was smiling at this encounter but soon came and pulled me away and we climbed onboard a matatu and headed off to the town of Nanyuki. The first real bit of civilisation I had seen in days we exited the over crowded van and then went in the Nyuni Village eatery. Upstairs, looking over the town, Sami ordered us lunch. A huge chopping board of roasted beef, ugali and chapattis was delivered and we all chowed down heartily. I said my goodbye to Charles, who lived near Nanyuki, and then Sami and I got into another matatu and began the drive back to Nairobi.

Another adventure was over, a memory engraved into my mind forever. Standing at the summit of the Lenana point had been one of my greatest physical achievements, I'm now much more mentally prepared for the bigger beast, Kilimanjaro, in three weeks time.

Kenya: Masai Mara

From the scorched desert lands of the ancient Egyptians I found myself landing in the, somewhat damp, Kenyan capital, Nairobi. It's the time of the short rains and as I was collected from the airport by my tour company and whisked to their office I got my first taste of East Africa. The outskirts of Nairobi being a lush green landscape the roads were a lot more like the busy streets of London with the lunchtime traffic bustling around, the difference being the chaotic swerving and jostling to squeeze through non-existant gaps with vehicles spewing black smoke from their exhausts.

On arrival at Sana Highlands Treks and Expeditions headquarters I met Huldah, the girl I have conversed with on email for the past month, and was informed that my group for the Masai Mara safari had all fallen ill. The only option I had was to go on a two night excursion, missing out on Lake Nakura, but still leave as planned the following morning. Dejectedly I agree to the change with the only upside of saving a day's safari costs and the company paying for a nights accomodation in Nairobi.

At 8.30 am the following day I was collected from the Milimani Backpackers hostel by Ojanjo, my driver for the safari and next 3 days, and was taken to meet my fellow tourists. During the next two nights Edmund and Regita, a German couple holidaying in Kenya, would be my companions.

The Masai Mara is a long drive, West, of Nairobi. We left the crowded and congested capital and headed towards the Rift Valley that we had to cross to reach the famed Kenya game reserve. Along the way I got more of a taste of the Kenyan way of life. On the sides of the roads women, baring large loads of wood supported only by a strap over the top of their heads, walked barefoot on the dirt and stone streets. Locals crowded around little, corrugated metal, kiosks selling various consumerables. Kenya is a place of logos and on every building, billboard, or any other walled surface there huge corporate emblems, "Nescafe for only 5 Shillings a cup" to mention but one.

Before long we were passing though a dense forest along the crest of a hill and the road bent round onto the side of the Rift Valley. A vast basin spread across my view and on the other side was the dormant volcanic beast of Longonot. We stopped for the obligatory photos of this impressive landscape. On the side of the winding valley road were a couple of Curios - little kiosks selling hand carved, wooden, imitations of the game animals we hoped to see. The vendors were quick to pounce and deliver their well rehersed sales pitches.

After a lunch stop in a rather suspect transit motel we left the tarmac of the main road and diverted onto a heavily potholed track that left the buttocks rather bruised from the constant bouncing for two hours to the lodge. Ojanjo did his best to avoid the gapping wells in the surface but you'd have needed a hover craft to have had a comfortable ride.

The Mara Hippo Safari Lodge would be my dwellings for the next two nights. Set by the entrance to the game reserve the campsite, one of the countless dotted around the plains of the safari park, consisted of wooden canopies that sheltered large, green, tents. A restaurant and pool (that looked like elephants had been washing the mud off themselves in) completed the grounds. At night animals often wander through the complex as there are no fences from the game reserve so security is employed to try and ward them off - men with big sticks and a head torch!

Our game drive scheduled for the afternoon of our arrival was cancelled due to torrential rains so we started out the following morning earlier than normal. We'd had breakfast and a lunch was packed so we were set for a full days game driving. In our white toyota minivan that had been purposefully converted for driving across the Mara we entered through the gates and we were immediately presented with photo opportunities.

According to Ojanjo many of the non-predatory animals shelter near the human camps at night as they feel safer from carnivorous beasts that roam the huge reserve. Zebra, Buffalo, Antelope and Gizelle alike were all strolling out onto the plains to graze.

To describe the whole day is virtually an impossible task. The information Ojanjo told us as we wound our way across the Mara and spotted the various different creatures in their natural habitat was immense. To pick some of the highlights I have to say that the lions basking in the sun, the elephants plundering along vast plains, the cheetahs - that had just hunted and killed a gizelle and were devouring it - and the leopards casually strolling the banks of the stream or resting in the branches of a tree were the sights that will forever stick in my memory.

 

A full day's game drive is a long experience though. At times I was caught napping in the van and was given a friendly poke by my German companions to arouse me and let me catch sight of more of the fantastic creatures roaming the reserve.

The Masai Mara is home to the Masaai tribe and is also the northern conjoint twin of Tanzania's Serengeti. They are one and the same game reserve and the only real division is the line on a map that has been greatly disputed by the tribes of the different countries. It is an enormous expanse of rolling green plains and hills and to see so many of the so called big five (elephants, lions, leopards, buffalo and rhinos) was a real treat. Leopards are a particularly rare treat and to have seen two different ones in the same afternoon was incredible. Unfortauntely the rhinos remained elusive to us this day. Not often found in the Masai Mara they are more commonly found at Lake Nakuru - the location I was missing out on due to the change in my expedition.

As the day was drawing to an end we bounced our way along the muddy tracks cut into the the ground by the countless four wheel drives and white safari vans. We'd had a glorious day of sun with hardly any clouds in the sky and as we neared the gates to the reserve we were graced with an astounding sunset to crown the day. Over the rolling hills, to the west, the sky was a beautiful purple and amber as the sun beamed through the growing clouds. It was the perfect end to a truly memorable day.

The following day, our last in the Mara saw us up early for a pre-breakfast game drive. Mainly for people to try and get some pictures of the animals they had not yet captured the main attraction of the morning seemed to be the pride of male lions resting on a large rock. The safari vans were gathered in the their masses around them and the vehicles all seemed to block each other into a group. It was still low season but there seemed to be ample amounts of gawking tourists taking pictures with varying degrees of photographic equipment.

We headed back to the camp, had breakfast and checked out of the accommodation and then headed for a visit to the Masaai people's village. A short distance from the camp we were greeted by one of the chief's sons. We were introduced and then given a guided tour of the wooden huts with manure covered walls. We were told about their lives as the inhabitants of the area. The people are ranchers with a large head of cattle and goats. The village in which they reside is also the play pen for the animals and the ground was totally swathed in cow and goat droppings.

The Masaai people vary in the modern age. The notable large holes in the ears from heavy rings are not unanimous anymore. The younger generations are a mix of people with normal ears and the low hung hoops. Those with normal ears are the ones that have attended school. They are a people who are gradually becoming slightly more westernised. This said the chief's son, someone who had been schooled, had still proven his manhood by killing a lion in close combat with nothing but a spear and a hunting knife. He showed us his crown made from the lions mane and also allowed me to be photographed wearing it.

We were then treated to two different songs and dances. The first by the women. A welcoming song which was followed by a parade and another song of blessing. We were told that the women with metal braclets on their ankles were married and that the leather belts some wore around the midsection symbolised they were mothers. Next we were given a demonstration of the male dance and song. This dance was more of a jumping competition that was to prove how strong you were. The higher you could jump signified that you were stronger and that to marry you would have to pay for less cows. Paying for cows is the traditional fee for marriage. The standard price is ten cows but if you are a strong jumper you would pay for less. I had a go jumping with the chief and I was told I would pay less than ten cows, he didn't tell me how many though.

We were then shown how they make fire by using a hard wood spindle in a soft wood block and kindling. A technique that has been passed down through the ages. We were taken to the chief's son's home and here he showed us the tooth of the lion he had killed and made into a necklace. The spear he used to kill the lion was presented to us and after a demonstration of how to use the projectile weapon we attempted a throw ourselves - I was less than deadly. As we were shown to the stools were they sell hand made souvenirs and gifts I was taken aside and asked if I wanted to buy an extra-special souvenir - one of the teeth from the lion. It was an honour not bestowed on many people. It came at a price, but then what price can you put on the tooth of a ferociously savage and wild beast that was slain at the hands of a Masai chief?

As we said goodbye to the Masaai people I was faced with the arduous return journey. As soon as the experience had begun it had ended. Like so many of the special adventures you get to experience when travelling this one had passed with a rapidity that was, at times, bewildering. I would have only a few short hours back in Nairobi to prepare for the next adventure the very next morning...Mount Kenya