CHAPTER 25 - KENYA, PART 1

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Exchange rate 73 Kenyan Shillings to US$1

Fr 8/20/99 - Nairobi, Kenya (continued)

Helen helped negotiate the cost of a taxi to the airport (MF40,000), and once again it was a goodbye. The ridiculously beat up off-orange Renault 4TL provided amusement - what could rattle the passenger more, the spent front end or the bumps in the road? The little death-trap passed through Ambatoloaka then Dar es Salaam and drove on toward Hell-ville. I scanned the trees to the south and above them saw the masts from Crater Bay. Hi Velocity was easy to distinguish with it's radically racked back mast.

I had sailed over 700 miles and more with the dogleg aboard Hi Velocity and visited six islands in three different countries. Chris, Helen and I chuckled when we thought of my expectations when initially arriving into the Seychelles seven weeks earlier. I never would have expected such a chapter in my book, never expected to live with two other people for that period of time, and never could have anticipated what I experienced. The time was very satisfying. Long distance blue water cruising is not to be taken lightly, the work in proportion to the play is to such a proportion that I really question whether I would ever desire to attempt such a voyage as captain. And to be captain requires solid experience in sailing and mechanics, extreme patience, good organisational skills, and plenty of money for maintenance and repair. Perhaps Scotty has it right - six months on, six off the boat. One can't argue the fact that what is accessible to cruisers is their domain only. Anchoring off small tropical remote uninhabited islands is a unique experience unattainable in any other way. Right place, right time brought us to Aldabra in the Seychelles, that was the diamond of my time aboard Hi Velocity. The thought of sailing more of the north-west Madagascar coast waters my mouth, it's supposed to be the best cruising in eastern Africa . If there was more time available I would have pursued harder. And the Chagos! I heard so many wonderful stories through dreamy eyes of the Chagos archipelago that it's on the list - sometime in my life I will be aboard a yacht for six to eight weeks there. The Chagos, a British territory, houses an American marine base at Diego Garcia and the other dozens of islands are uninhabited. The Americans claim it as a marine reserve to thwart hostile ships but it's a pristine yacht cruising haven. Then for other cruising options there's the Andamens, Tonga, Fiji, British Virgin Islands, Grenadines, Belize,... hmmm.

The flight from Nosy Be, Madagascar to Nairobi, Kenya was in two legs. The first leg to Mayotte was a real quickie, the airline didn't even issue seat assignments so seating was open, and I barely had time to kick off my hiking boots. The voyage aboard Hi Velocity between Nosy Be and Mayotte had taken twenty-four hours, this time aboard the Air Austral Boeing 737-300.500 was twenty minutes.

At the airport inn Mayotte I was reminded of the fabulous dressed women. The fence bordering the airfield was packed with women in their bold and colorful traditional lambas, straining to say goodbye to the few similarly dressed ladies boarding the plane.

I am typing while in flight. Suddenly, quick whispered chatter in French broke out and people strained to see on the east side window. I wasn't sure what the excitement was about, but one glance and unmistakably Kilimanjaro sat nicely there, a huge dark shadow with spotted clouds in front and the pink and red horizon lines of the fading sunset. What a sight!

My state of being upon arrival in Nairobi airport, after a flight of two and a half hours, ran parallel with most unseasoned travellers to the city - anxiety and uncertainty. Nairobi has built itself a horrible reputation for acts of scams and violence against tourists. I would learn this to be an exaggeration, but the first night was nerve racking. Even in the airport I suspiciously eyed every black face. I questioned everyone intentions to myself and when a man calling himself a taxi driver named Thomas hounded me, even politely, I ignored him. I walked about the small terminal and looked for someone from the 680 Hotel for my scheduled lift. Thomas followed me around and without transport to the 680, I considered the option of saving money at a less expensive spot even though the taxi ride would be costly. After an hour I gave in. Thomas helped me call around to hotels by payphone for a room and we departed the airport for the city.

Thomas drove a big Volvo and we had a good chat along the way. I relaxed. In the dark city, we stopped in front of the Dolat Hotel we had called earlier, and I sat opened mouthed as I viewed the hotel front and surrounding area. The place was a scary pit and Thomas agreed. He offered to drive around the block to a better location and pointed trough an alley. I agreed and booked into the Eureka Highrise Hotel, a hotel extending upward from the reception on the third floor to the restaurant and bar on the next floors. My cost was KS800 ($10.80) including breakfast.

I have visited Kenya before, for a month around February / March 1987, with my friend Steve Quinn. He had spent nearly three years in Kenya while working for the Peace Corp, finishing his work two years earlier. In 1987 was Steve's second trip to Kenya. The trip was my first into the third world, I was comparatively an unseasoned traveller, and my senses were on edge. For this reason and because of Steve - he was a good travelling buddy, knew the country, could speak Swahili, and had contacts with Kenyans and expats - that experience was perhaps my most exciting ever travelling. A year after returning I had finished my journal and passed copies to anyone interested since.

Sa 8/21/99 - Nairobi, Kenya

Kenya is in East Africa, those countries colonialized as a collective by Britain, known then as British East Africa, consisting of Kenya, Uganda, and Zanzibar. (German East Africa grouped together Rwanda, Burundi, and Tanzania.) Kenya borders the Indian Ocean, Somalia, Ethiopia, Sudan, Uganda, Lake Victoria, and Tanzania. Kenya's population is 28 million, one of most explosive in the world. English and Swahili are the official languages, and amidst the more than fifty tribes are almost as many indigenous languages. The Great Rift Valley runs from the Dead Sea in Jordan to Mozambique and bisects the country.

I was happy with my hotel, the Eureka. It was clean and roomy enough, and finished with wood panelling throughout the common areas such as the restaurant and hallways. After a decent English breakfast, I inquired at the front desk as to the location of the General Post Office (GPO) and the doorman named Lawrence was asked to show me the way. Lawrence was an old character - long rotting and missing teeth, thick spectacles but only one eye, deep hanging skin, 5 ft 10 inch and thin. He wore a one piece blue uniform like an automotive mechanic. I was worried what a personal escort to a post office might cost, but was much more busy trying to keep pace with this old man. From a tour book map I guessed the GPO to be on Haile Selassie Avenue, a common street name after the Ethiopian president, but the book also mentioned a new post office and that's where I followed Lawrence, on Kenyatta Avenue.

This was my first look at the current day Nairobi, the big scary African city, the home of the many bad stories that every traveller had heard. But throughout my first couple of days here I would feel comfortable, never hear any recent violent story, and would relax. These metamorphic thoughts and feelings of Nairobi would be repeated with every traveller I would meet.

Lawrence had the wrong post office and then seemed insulted when a postal employee told him the poste restante was in City Center. We headed towards the hotel and I tried to nicely explain that the City Center post office was in a different direction, but he replied, "I've lived here my life, I know Nairobi very well". After another quick paced walk across the city, at the post office in Moi Avenue another employee explained where the City Center GPO was.

On the walk to Haile Selassie we were quickly passing a block with a strange shaped hotel, closed and lacking windows. Next door was a large fenced vacant lot and behind another building without windows. Hey, I stopped and had to ask Lawrence, "Is this where the American Embassy was?". It was. Just over one year ago the building was decimated and neighboring buildings severely damaged by one bomb. More than two hundred people killed.

I continued chasing old Lawrence and found the true GPO and poste restante. I showed the counter person my passport and from somewhere in the bowels of the poste restante came a small package with my name on it. Inside was a Footprint book on East Africa and two letters from Sue. To show my thanks I spent the hours before 3pm when the post office closed putting together a return box ($30 for 5kg) to Sue with a few gifts and travel material I wanted to part with.

I followed Lawrence back to the Eureka and rested in my room. I had a list of tasks wanting my attention and wondered how I would accomplish them. When I set off for the chores another man named Harry at the door offered to show the way to a bank machine. He helped with finding a few curios and mailing the return box to Sue, showing an email service, explaining the different ways of telephoning internationally, and smoothing the way for many other little jobs. He was a nicely dressed in sharp wingtips, pinstriped pants, and a long sleeve dress shirt. He's in his late-twenties and spoke English very well and works as one of three guides to the hotel. I amazingly blazed around Nairobi with Harry and he even helped with logistics of my day plans. I had to ask him three times if he was hungry for lunch, he finally agreed and when I asked where he likes to eat, where could we find Kenyan food, he replied that on weekends he treated himself to a special place called Burma Market.

We caught a full bus for a fifteen minute ride through the filth plagued streets to the nearby outskirts of Nairobi and to the Burma Market, named after colonial settlers who had lived in Asia. The ride was reminiscent of Kathmandu with trash and decay and broken buildings, but still not as bad. From the bus stop and into the market we passed through a wall of scrape metal, passed shack shops selling clothing, meat markets, and then into an enclave of tightly spaced food stalls made of corrugated sheet metal roofs and mixed wooden and cheap metal and plastic seats and tables underneath. I was the only white on the bus and I never saw another for hours.

I was nervous, this first day in the bad city of Africa, especially on our approach to the stalls along a moist earth path, but I had to laugh. Harry said, "This is where you'll get stuck" and my first thought was "stabbed", and so my obvious reply was, "Huh?!". They will push you to eat at their stalls. Oh, I thought, that's better. But then from each stall men came out and yelled in Swahili at Harry as he passed them by, some seemed very aggravated, even worse they all seemed to have been cutting meats and held long knives in their hands. So again I had to think about being 'stuck'. It was all fine though, I was comfortable with my guide in this very rough and local eatery. We sat in the back of Susan's and faced others across the narrow table from us, people at the other tables in our stall, and across the walkway to other stalls. The place was made of light plywood and with low roofs of corrugated sheet metal giving it a somewhat darkish look. I asked for goat ribs, which were fatty, but Harry knew better and ordered fish which I then mimicked - fresh water fish smoked and then grilled and served in a nice tomato based sauce.

Browse Internet Access
Norwich Union House, 4th floor
Mama Ngina Street (1 block from Moi)

Back in the city center, Harry assisted with a few more chores, running me around the city. He was a great help even though I wasn't learning the city for myself, and I wondered if and how much I should tip him. We had covered the topic earlier, he said he would be happy with just lunch and I should have left it at that, but I didn't and I thought of this man spending six hours helping me out. I really had nothing less than a 1000 shilling note, $15 and in a spurt of generosity handed it to him. Harry was surprised and was extremely thankful. He said the money would go to hs house and wife and children and can he have another 100 to get home? I was bewildered and then why did I give him that too? I was to quickly learn how Kenyans can be so nice but can be so forward in asking.

Harry had also taken me to a strange backpacker's place on Moi Avenue named Planet Safari. It's strange for the free lodging they offer those who book trips around Kenya through them and the accommodation, which is then available - tents on the covered patio atop of a eight story building. Harry explained they were a booking agent and said people stay for free in tents and pointed way up to the tops of green and blue tents peeping over a balcony. Yes, strange.

At Planet Safari I spoke with an owner named Lucy Njaaga, a large smiling and jovial women. I booked and paid ($220) for a four day safari into the Masai Mara, Kenya's Serengeti Plains, and left my end date open so I would be able to add additional days on for the cost of food ($7/day) and park fee ($27/day, students are $15, but no ID), that way I would lower my daily cost a little and then have five solid days in the bush.

Lucy's business card:

Planet Safari Adventure
Lucy Wamuyu Njaaga
Managing Director
Moi Avenue Sonalus House 9th Floor
P.O. Box 79347
Nairobi, Kenya
Tel: 254 (02) 229799 / 229992
Planet@AfricaOnline.co.ke

When I arrived back at the Eureka I took dinner in their lounge on the sixth floor since I was still unsure of how and where I could move safely through the city, and afterward, before I left the room, a brash Kenyan invited me to join his foursome making merry at their table.

It was Saturday night and this group of friends were spending their early evening together here at the hotel bar as they do every Saturday. The father of this man owned the Eureka and other hotels in the city. His sister and her husband were present, as was the hotel manager. He was divorced, with children, and a heavy drinker of beer and double gins. Although he was brash, he was funny, laughing hard, and his filthy sense of humor surfaced quickly. He was the first to exit, he didn't want to visit his children drunk, I thought that idea was past issue, and then the couple were left with me.

Of this couple, he was very talkative and spoke the best English. They lived in a house they owned in a nearby suburb with their children in what sounded like a nice setting. I had the impression he was a bit of a smooth talker and her family, in particular her father, was wealthy and that made for an easy lifestyle for them both.

He pushed me to join them to night-club near their home so I could see and enjoy some social life of middle class Kenyans. He was persistent, said that we would share a matatu (taxi), have a couple beers, that I could leave whenever I felt, and that I would be safe. Although I was tired and expended too much energy weighing the factors including cost, I agreed and off we went.

I had no image of how this night-club would appear and was overwhelmed at how western it was. I could have been in any warmer climate spot in the States and maybe found the same. There was a mix of high and low tables with umbrella like shade of natural materials spread across a large patio. People in their late twenties and thirties mingled quietly while a great eight piece band played Zairian music and others thumped on the dance floor in front. I was the only white I saw for most the night and played observer in between short conversation with the couple. I watched the dance floor and in particular one unusual and beautiful younger girl with long extensions and funky bright costume and sparkling high yellow shoes. By midnight I was dancing alone in the throng near my host while his wife watched happily from her seat.

I had been nervous of the forthright invitation, of the matatu ride into the suburbs, and what I may find at this 'middle class' night-spot. Any nervousness was probably unfounded and I enjoyed the adventure. Before I left though I had bought more than my share of the beer and after he arranged for a taxi home, he was too persistent in asking for more, "It is traditional in Kenya to show appreciation to your hosts when they secure your transportation home". This topic only ended when I was away in the taxi and I felt bad about it, used, and that bothered my mind into the next day. I had given Harry too much and then he asked for more. Now I was to provide most of the nights drink and then more. I felt like a dupe. But that's how I would find Kenyans, so warm, friendly, fun, sincere, but when you're a muzungu, it doesn't hurt to ask.

So I had been nervous about my first night out in Nairobi. The main problems with safety was being in the wrong place at the wrong time so again I worried about the ride home, finding the hotel, and making it in. Nairobi is very dark at night. There aren't the streetlights of the western world in the suburbs and the city itself is poorly lit also. Often I would find myself walking at night and staring hard at the ground in front to find secure footing over the broken walkways and dirt paths.

I had probably paid too much in advance to the driver (KS500), I wondered if my host took a cut, and nervous turned closer to dread as we left the club. We were a few minutes on the main road when the taxi engine showed ill health, it ran on only half its cylinders, and coughed and choked and loss power climbing an easy grade. As it slowed to the dark roadside I closed my lips tight, shook my head side to side, and swore under my breath. As a tall muzungu I didn't want to walk the few kilometers back along the road to the club, there were few cars coming by and taxis aren't marked, and I wondered about the driver's intentions. A brief thought crossed - maybe I was setup. The driver coaxed the poor car up the hill by revving the sputtering engine and slipped the clutch, then stopped again at a closed gas station to work on the engine. He hadn't tools, maybe one screwdriver, and meddled around under the hood for ten minutes while I wondered if my bed missed me and worse thoughts. The driver fiddled around under the hood, tried starting the sad machine through the window only to hear it cough to stillness again. The cycle repeated itself five times, then he closed the hood, came behind the wheel, and continued toward Nairobi by keeping the engine revs as high as possible and slipping the clutch. Finally he spoke, "It is not good for white people at night in Nairobi". Well, ya, what have been thinking for the last hour? The slightest hills slowed the car to a crawl and we would crest them at less than walking speed to find momentum on the other side. Finally, we were somewhere in the city center although I hadn't a clue where, maybe we would make it. The streets were black and some people walked the late still night, their facial details lost in the dark. When we finally reached the Eureka, I let out a breath, and when the driver repeated himself about safety, I slid quietly past a doorman and up to my room.

Mayotte to Boston - 8149 miles

Nairobi to Boston - 7183 miles

Su 8/23/99 - Masai Mara

The way people piled into the white Landcruiser left me with shotgun and I was pleased for the view. Before departing Nairobi, we made a grocery stop which allowed time to buy water for myself. A girl in the back of our car gave a street beggar a sweet and then a handful of beggars were in the windows looking for anything of value for themselves. A worn woman with drug wasted eyes (glue?) held a baby in her arms and stood with her palm open at my side. I casually looked at her and the babies large brown hollow eyes but when I turned away she reached into the car and grabbed my Madagascar straw hat. Damn. I motioned for it back and she stared through me and didn't care to respond to my gestures for the hat. Okay, here was this wasted African women and my hat was in her hand. I, in contrast, am a computer scientist from America, and wanted my hat back. The odds had to somehow benefit me; I had to be able to retrieve it. So, resorting to childhood tricks, I pointed behind her and side, "Hey, look!", and she fell for it and I jumped over the window sill to reach down to grab it back. Ha! Take that!

We introduced ourselves and I met Robyn from Australia, Ruth from England, John and Stephanie from England and Australia, and an Italian couple named Amundo and Meleria. Our driver and guide was named Kennedy, after the late American president.

As we drove west I tried to compare the Kenya that passed by and the memories of my last trip. The road was divided with a barrier heading out of Nairobi and there was a proper exit to leave it - that's more modern. We came upon a lookout point with souvenir stalls overlooking the Africa's amazing Great Rift Valley. We stopped for a rest there with other tourists and joined them to gaze over this spectacular sight. Twelve years ago only a couple of stalls were resident here and a Kenyan selling sheepskins wore an Oscar Meyer Weiner hat. We tried to explain to him what it meant to no avail.

We dropped into Great Rift Valley which runs south from the Dead Sea near Jordan, includes the Red Sea and then crosses Africa to Mozambique. The valley was created from splitting tectonic plates and also spawned volcanoes on the valley sides including Africa's tallest mountains - Elgon, Kenya, and Kilimanjaro.

Hours before reaching the reserve we saw zebra and giraffe on the flat plains and stopped to be told about whistling acacia trees - the seed pods whistle in the wind.

Norak is a town that you read or hear of in many books and movies on Kenya because of it's location in the valley between Nairobi and the Masai Mara. We stopped there for a buffet lunch of beef and vegetables, then I walked into the market and ended sitting with two chatty 'modern' Masai women who were being unsuccessful at selling potatoes. They were bored and used me as entertainment and I was game for a fun chat. We spoke of family situations, Donna (many Kenyans have both Christian and tribal names) was married with children, the older women's husband was killed a year ago in a road accident, she has four grandchildren. They didn't beat about and instead asked direct questions of my family status which I answered truthfully. We laughed a lot about silly things and later a traditional young Masai woman in shukas (red wraps) and dangling earlobes came to buy potatoes. She wasn't keen on having her picture taken until Donna asked to be in one with another girl named Unice.

We carried on from Norak, heading south now toward the Mara. The road turned from paved to dirt after an hour or so, then I started to feel the wilds of Africa. The plains had long grass with scattered thorn and other trees. East and west were the great escarpments.

We stopped at the Planet Safari camp near Oloolaimutia Gate in the east of the park before heading for a game drive. There are 30 green and white canvas tents under wooden stalls for rain protection. In the camp center is a covered round structure for socialising around night fires, currently in the process of being refurbished. I met Natasha, a 21-year-old Canadian girl working with Planet Safari for two months and "...in the area for a year. I came on safari and never left". She is planning on marrying a Masai man who I would later meet named Shalaash. I can't start to imagine the complications of such a mixed marriage.

Then ... our first game drive on the Serengeti Plains! The loaded Landcruiser set off on the rough tracks and when we never passed an entrance gate I was reminded that the park had no man made borders and had many tracks running every which way. The sky was dark and rain came but also a bit of sun that lent itself to incredibly intense rainbows arcing over the plains. We spotted many plains animals across the rolling Serengeti - Thompson gazelle, grant gazelle, topi, hartebeest, and I especially looked for the large herds of wildebeest and zebra. They were here, right now, in the park, a million migratory plains animals, mostly wildebeest and zebra and I couldn't have been more excited. There were many kills from previous days in different stages of decomposition. Lions, leopards, and cheetahs had their feast and then left the carcasses to the hyena, vultures, and insects in the pecking order. Skeletons of wildebeest were laid out on their chins and ribs cages were exposed in stripes of bone. Some wore a tight black skin of shrunken hide. Quickly, the conversation turned to the chance of witnessing a kill, and that idea was part of the repitore of silly jokes about the animals, but would never happen.

The beauty of a safari is the quiet time of observation, feeling the pace and slow rhythm of life on the African savanna, watching the graceful movements of the wonderful creatures and understanding the way and order of nature's creation. If you sit quietly for a time, gaze across the land, notice the vast numbers of creatures, notice the puffy clouds forming and the low sun striking the long grasses in the distance, notice the smells of the red soil, consider the views of the soaring birds, the tactics of survival, then you are appreciate what the long trail has brought you. I wanted this, I wanted to feel Africa as it has been through the millennia, and craved a peaceful stay in the Masai Mara.

It seems everything in life has its compromises and you can do anything with only time and money. If I had my way, I would be tenting on the open plains with a Land Rover and a good friend. Steve Quinn and I came close although we stayed in camping areas. I excluded the notion of spending two hundred dollars a night in a fancy lodge or formal tented camp and doing the early morning and late afternoon game drives, it was out of the realm of my budget. Renting a car is incredibly expensive too, about a hundred a day and park entrance is $27 a day, so I joined the 'cheap' route of $55 per day.

I was sharing the car with many others and didn't control when and where we stopped or for how long and this idea took a couple of hours to come to grips with, then I settle in. I really enjoyed the people in the safari car and our driver, but would wish we had more time sitting quietly rather than driving about.

We came across a kill. Lion had taken a zebra within the last couple of hours and now laid nearby in short grass, licking their lips, happily relaxing. Vultures waited in a nearby thorn tree, waiting for the lion to move away. We were tweaked with excitement, 'ooo-ed' and 'ahh-ed' at the adorable big cats, and snapped away with our cameras.

The Landcruiser slowly drove back toward camp, stopping to see things new and interesting, arriving at camp just before dark around 630pm.

Dinner was fine, simple cooking but plenty of it - pasta, sauce, chicken, vegetables. Our group sat together and talked until about 9pm.

Mo 8/23/99 - Masai Mara

A wakeup call came pass the tents at 6am. I laid still for a few minutes and appreciated my roomy canvas tent and more so the fact that I laid on the timeless Serengeti Plains. I smiled in the dark as the thoughts warmed me and excitement for the game drive ahead grew. Below the camp is one hot shower, the water heated by wood under an oil drum reservoir, and the thought of waiting in line was enough to have me up and down there feeling out the area for the first time in the dark.

After breakfast, about 7am, we were off on a daylong game drive in our cool white Landcruiser with the large open roof. We saw a mass amount of migrational wildebeest and zebra spread across the plains and misfortune of many of these beasts. We passed nearby many old kills, a day old, two days, a week. The age was told in the tautness of skin over bone or the total lack of skin and only bones.

As we cruised along, and I had passed shotgun to Stephanie, most of us stood on the seats and hung on the edges of the open roof being social and admiring the animals amidst the long rolling grasses.

At a zebra kill we closely observed ugly hooded vultures watching and waiting out the larger and uglier white backed vultures as they tore at the skin and connective tissues of the zebra's carcass.

In the reserve center, on the Tanzanian border is a rest spot on the Mara River ("wild river") called Hippo Pools, a place Steve Quinn and I visited the twelve years earlier. This is the famous river where wildlife photographers come to record the great migration, in particular the brute nature of the wildebeest crossing the water to reach more plentiful grass plans. The wildebeest attempt crossing in groves, crashing on one another in a panic to pass through the crocodile infested waters only to stampede and drown some of themselves. At the rivers edge two half submerged bloated bodies wafted the air. After watching these programs in awe, here I was at the very spot, the last crossing taken place four days previously.

Four armed police talked under the shade of a big bush at the river bank. They were there to protect tourists and to guide them along the river. One man, a very dark Masai with dangling ear lobes and a red beret laid comfortably amongst the branches, Charles, a young man here for only a month, found us interesting enough to raise and smile and to walk with us. We first went to the left past a funky half red and half blue lizard to where a handful of hippopotamus was in the river. One caused great turbulence and noise, like a car crashing into the river. He moved to the center to join others there already resting on the bottom on their folded legs, eyes and nostrils poking from the brown muddy river. A walk along the river in the opposite direction brought us to the crocodile section. Large prehistoric beasts laid motionless and basking in the sun on the far bank. A chill ran down my spin when I realised how well the crocs blend in with their surroundings.

For Hippo Pool photo

Allin M. Agumba (young policeman)
P.O. Box 69
Malava
via Kakamega
Kenya

Kennedy had a lunch spot in mind and I wondered how it could be more interesting than Hippo Pools. We drove only a short way to the shade of a tree near the top of a very long sloping hill, the first in a line of rolling humps across the grass plains. It couldn't have been more perfect. A few hundred meters away was a herd of 10,000 wildebeest and zebra that stretched across a 180-degree view. It was an African heaven, a special sight of nature to behold, our timing was right to see the masses of migratory plains animals. Our picnic spot was quite nice under the tree, Kennedy spread a woollen blanket and then tasty breaded fish, a cabbage and carrot salad, bread, and bananas. I walked away from the group for bladder duty and returned with half of an old jaw with a row of cracked teeth as an option to Ruth's shark tooth she wore around her neck. From a mound in front of our spot I took a series of six pictures to form a panorama of the Serengeti Plains and the migration.

The afternoon was spent heading east and toward the camp, slowing and stopping for wildlife sights of interest. Mid-afternoon rain started and continued into the dark. We passed warthogs and giraffe and before reaching the camp a herd of twenty elephants washing in red soil, rolling and rubbing their hind quarters into the earth. This sight was amusing and including adults and their babies. Kennedy explained that the rain causes them to itch.

Dinner was similar to the night before, a load of plain food,. A few different groups on safari were present.

Tu 8/24/99 - Masai Mara

I rose at 545am to beat the others to the shower at the bottom of the camp. Breakfast consisted of eggs, black (burnt) and white toast, and tea.

The talk at breakfast was of the lions that came into the camp and woke some people. I was jealous, I would have loved to hear the sounds of the heart of Africa, perhaps some other time on the trip.

The plan for the morning was a game drive, then much of our crew would be heading north to a couple of the many Kenyan lakes.

Across the slight dip in a broad section of slight valley between the grassy hills, a couple of white minivans found something of interest. We motored off a short distance from the dirt track and over the grass. A large bushy mane lit our eyes, our first fully-grown male lion. He laid with his woman who was totally relaxed and flopped on her back with one front paw lazily held into the air. They were two big fuzzy cats, a cute couple together. The male gave us cursory glances, yawned, look at his mate. A young man in a van commented on the couples copulation frequency, "Okay, fifteen minutes are up, time for work bud", and soon after the big boy stood and approached the female from behind while she acknowledged by laying flat on her tummy. He let a deep echoing roar bellow from his lungs, opened his large jaw to bare his teeth and bite the nape of her neck. She didn't have a second to enjoy the moment for it was quickly over. The male stepped off, walked in front of her, gave her a proud look to say, "Ah, that will hold her for a while", then laid down again. We were thrilled to have seen them mating, cameras clicking away. The performance ended with no less than sixteen safari vehicles in attendance.

With the lions mating, jokes flew. The first pointed out the copulation frequency and duration, "Don't worry dear, this will only take a second". The reply, "Oh, yes, how I know!"

We passed many remains of lion kills. The morning had been cloudy, but the skies turned sunny and lit long views of golden plains spotted with clumps of green trees. We passed though a herd of buffalo straddling the roadway, more than two hundred strong. We moved slowly through and they slowly gave way. The sheer strength of these large beasts close up is very powerful, they hung their heads low and peered at us, their thick curled horns menacing, their bulging shoulders and flanks magnificent.

I had been looking forward to seeing hyena, and we observed a couple at a kill. They're the scavengers of the plains, they look guilty and sly with long mouths on jaws made to crush bone, and swaying heads as they walk. Out of proportion are the small behinds.

We were back at camp by 11am, sat for a lunch of potatoes and chicken with peas and carrots, then said goodbye to our first safari group. Robyn from Australia was the only to stay behind.

Robyn and I arranged a walk to a local lookout point from the camp. Salaash ("big family") was our arranged guide and he came to our tents at 2pm. He was dressed like a typical Masai, he wore two red patterned shukas (originally Masai wore wraps of softened cowhide dyed red with soil), beads around his neck, plain black leather sandals, and long dangling earlobes. He carried a spear, two rungas (weapons of tree root with a bulb at one end), and a long knife strapped around his waist. I asked if the weapons were for lion and he replied and smiled "Yes, I think it is enough", and we all laughed. As we walked from the camp, along a dirt road, and into the bush we talked about the simple thinks we could all relate to, we asked the names of his shuka, spear, and other weapons, and about his family. Salaash told he had no children but was married to Natasha, the Canadian girl working here, although they haven't had a ceremony yet which then made us wonder what 'married' meant to him. The Masai are primitive, he still fills his belly each morning with cow blood and milk. Once nomadic, they no longer wander so much, but do build bomas, circles of thorn bush around their dwellings. Few children attend school instead the boys handle cattle grazing and girls help with housework. We walked on a slightly worn path up the lookout hill. We stopped for a breather and talked of lions and kills. Salaash had killed a lion which they trapped in a circle of spears. The lion skin was used for ceremony and since he had the honor he hosted a feast of buffalo meat. We walked near the hilltop and to an outcropping of rock to see and gaze across the long plains of Africa stretched left to right across our view and into Tanzania. We climbed about 500 feet and far below and across the plains were the circles of bomas and a large Masai village of twenty homes. The viewpoint was magic, the plains as they have been for thousands of years, unlike the deforestation I witnessed in most other countries visited. Here were the Masai and their grazing land. Kenya's Masai Mara Reserve stretching across the Serengeti into Tanzania in the south.

We 8/25/99 - Masai Mara

I woke for bladder relief in the very early morning. I immediately noticed that the sky was clear and the stars shone brightly. Each of the last three days had been more cloudy than sunny and rain started about 3pm each afternoon. Because this affected picture taking I wondered if the stars were a good sign for the coming days weather.

After breakfast Robyn and I joined a group of four in a minivan. The driver's name was Phillip, and the passengers were an Israeli couple, an Canadian-American girl named Carla, and a German man.

We were off on another full day game drive and we sat back in relative comfort in the more typical white ten-passenger minivan. These safari cars have roof caps that extend upwards so people can stand to view and picture take easily.

The game drive wound on the similar dirt tracks west toward the park center. The sky was overcast and I searched the horizons for possible breaks. About 9am the sky then cleared and most of the day was fine.

It was a very nice day, we passed the enormous numbers of plains animals and spent lunch at Hippo Pools. There I met Alan from two days ago and he was ecstatic that I remembered his name. We picnicked near vervet monkeys who weren't shy, they terrorised the Israeli couple, and I chuckled at the girl's whinging over stolen bread.

Th 8/26/99 - Nairobi

Last night Phillip asked that the group be ready for a game drive at 630am, so I was up a little earlier at 545am for a hot shower before any others may waken. I walked through the dark and quiet camp with flashlight in hand to the shower stall. I noticed that the wood fire to heat water wasn't burning and settled for a luke warm shower. At the dining area Carla and I grabbed tea, leaned on a open window base and stared over the slowly awakening camp in the coming light.

Ah, my last game drive in the Masai Mara Reserve. Again the day started cloudy and this time lasted through most of the morning. The drive started slow, we drove in relative silence for awhile before sightings of animals brightened us.

Our drive lasted until 1030am. The highlights were watching eight lions and cubs stretching around water hole, following a cheetah as he walked slowly down long grass hill, two male lions with full manes lazing near one another under bushes, watching a colorful mixed herd of buffalo, zebra, grants gazelle, and topi, and lastly seeing a herd of hundreds of buffalo.

There was a great meal of fish, carrots in sweet sauce, whitebread, crepes, carrot and cabbage salad, and tea for 'blunch'. Our minivan left the camp with Phillip driving, another young man at shotgun, Robyn, Carla, the Israelis, and two new Englishmen. We cruised along the dirt road playing the ABC game with animals we've seen across the Serengeti and away from the park. At the end of the dirt road, 37km from the start, we pulled over for a flat, which wasn't a catastrophe since we had two spares even though one was already flat. We hung around the van, some Masai stopped to watch, and we laughed and joked about with whatever we could find - round green seed from a nearby tree, thorn branches, and cow patties. The situation turned a little more ominous when the last spare went flat a hundred meters up the road and Phillip buried the wheels in a steep slope of sand at the shoulder and the van threatened to roll. The English couple grumbled and swore and talked about asking for a refund. The three of us again joked about. A similar minivan stopped, pulled us to the road and lent a spare - no problem.

To fixed the flat spares, we stopped again in Narok at a petrol station where a mans eyes shined as he looked up at my hat. He offered t trade for it, invited me into the souvenir store he worked, and fierce bargaining started. By the end, I lost my hat and 1000 shillings and left with a wooden giraffe for my friend Gary who helps my mom and a rungi, a short wooden stick with a bulb at the end, made of tree root, and used as a weapon and to carry as a sign of status. Narok is quite colorful beyond the dusty streets with Masai in patterned red shukas and brightly painted storefronts.

After we crested the high escarpment, President Moi came blasting through in cavalcade, lights flashing.

Robyn and I took the advice from the Lonely Planet and walked through the dark streets nearby Planet Safari to find dinner at Supreme, a good vegetarian Indian Buffet (KS250).

Because we had booked though Planet Safari, we were eligible to receive three free days accommodation. Considering the cost of the safaris, we used the offer to recover a little financially.

Back at Planet Safari, we were placed in a heavy green tent amongst the others, large enough to accommodate our packs and ourselves. This scene is really strange though, about eight dusty tents on the ninth floor of a building in the center of Nairobi, Kenya.

Fr 8/27/99 - Nairobi

We again took the advice of Lucy and had breakfast downstairs from the Planet. The day was spent chasing errands to arrange ourselves for a trip to Mt. Kenya. We purchased sandals and a hat, choose snack food, and bought water.

We walked through the City Market, a colorful landmark in the city for produce and meats and curios. Every step a man would be inviting us into his curio shop, "karibu", but we mostly smiled and stepped around them.

Another landmark is the Norfolk Hotel, an old hotel dating to colonial days. We strolled to the fancy hotel for late afternoon tea and sat and relaxed amidst the impressive surroundings.

At the Planet, Gladys booked a five day trip to Mt. Kenya, $45 per day plus tips to one guide and one porter. The daily cost isn't too bad, a bit over my daily allotment, but where they really get you is for the transportation days there and back, the safari companies aren't paying your park fees for those days.

Near Standard Street is an Italian restaurant called La Scala, plain d�cor, but okay for dinner.

Sa 8/28/99 - Nanyuki, Mt. Kenya (1948m)

Lucy at Planet Safari desk again recommended downstairs for breakfast and again insisted that we should receive a discount. Of course the man didn't quite understand our request and we again didn't have the discount on our same breakfast of eggs, sausage, toast, juice, and tea (KS150).

We were packed, ready, and waiting at 930am for our guide to Mt. Kenya. There was confusion, Joseph arrived at 7am and we all waited until someone hooked us up with him at 1030am. While we waited I stuck my head between the blue tarpaulin cover and the wall and took a picture of the mess of a city below. The streets are somewhat paved but coated with a layer of dust that dirties everything, even these tents on the ninth floor. The view below showed cars parked along Moi Avenue, across the street a vacant lot with residue from building destruction abutted a sports shop that had moved across the street. The next street and intersection was full of white vans and matatus.

Joseph ran us across town to a matatu stand for Nanyuki, a city on the north side of Mt. Kenya. We finally left at 11am in the Kenyan taxi, meaning that the van seats were stacked close together such that we had less than zero leg room. There were sixteen people packed inside, but we were still much better off than the small matatus we passed that showed a tangle of legs and arms and heads.

The highest attainable goal for trekkers on Mt. Kenya is Point Lenana (4985m, 16,350ft). The twins peaks of Nelton (5189m) and Mbattan (5199m) are technical. To reach the top of Kilimanjaro is not technical but a bigger challenge because of altitude sickness, Kili is 1,000m higher than Mt. Keyna.

We arrived Nanyuki at 2pm. Although we had wanted to climb immediately that day, we were too late to get going. Joseph had to buy provisions and walking is not allowed after 5pm. Another problem are the elephants and buffalo that come to the trails in late day. Had we made the first camp, Old Moses, today then acclimatisation would have been better. In Nanyuki Joseph introduced us to our two guides, Charles and Kamao. Not one guide, but two, that meant we would have more tips to give out.

Joseph brought us across the town to lunch. We roared with laughter when a baby lowered the corners of his mouth and threatened to cry when he saw Robyn's white face. One look at me and he was set off balling.

Throughout Nanyuki are shoe stands, many stands of very used shoes from donated abroad. I recognised some styles from my days in high school, old Adidas and Pumas.

In Nanyuki, the tourists are brought to the equator marked by a large sign on a main road just outside town. There Mr. Williams performed an experiment to show how water flows clockwise north of the equator and counter-clockwise south of the equator. I was amazed, I mean everyone has heard of this, but to see it happen is really cool. He placed water and a matchstick into a plastic container with a hole at the bottom. As the water ran down a circular current was created. Mr. Williams only had to walk ten meters of either side of the sign to show the effect.

Joseph put us into the Riverside Hotel and reminded us more than once that he was spending a lot of money for the hotel and lunch and dinner. The hotel was okay, except it was the local club and tonight was Saturday night.

After dinner we hit the poolroom, I bought beers for our porters, Charles and Kamao, and we mixed partners for an hour or so. Nearby Nanyuki is a British army base, therefore Nanyuki supposedly has the largest number of prostitutes in Kenya. We saw a handful, most the worse for wear. Later Robyn and I remarked about one. She talked with Robyn a bit. Even though she was only nineteen, she looked as though more than one train ran over her.

Around nine o'clock the African disco music started and soon afterward we retired. The loud disco played on until 6am the next morning and hindered sleep.

Su 8/29/99 - Old Moses Camp. Mt. Kenya

After breakfast and a photograph of Mt. Kenya that sits in line with the main road of Nanyuki, Robyn and I piled into a battered blue matatu with Robert from Austria. He had a guide and porter, our three guys were with us, and then a couple of others were stuck in along with a mass of provisions in plastic and paper bags for the two groups. Worse then yesterday's matatu, this one was small and shorter and I really crooked my head to fit. Forty-five bouncing minutes later we were at Sirimon Gate (2600m) and inside Mt. Kenya National Park.

The load was spread out across the grass, and while the guides picked through it and repacked, the three of us talked and played baseball with rocks and walking sticks left behind by trekkers just completing the hike. I had told Joseph and Charles that I would off load weight from my pack to them and carry my pack up. We were paying for the three and even though I felt guilty and responsible for my own belongings, they were porters after all, the reason we had them. It must have been lost in the conversation, for they carried two packs and a few bags by hand and I had a full pack with all my belongings plus Robyn's sleeping bag and three and a half liters of water.

The walk to Old Moses wasn't too bad, but I was carrying too much weight and the pace was too quick. Under those conditions and the fact they we are ascending much too quickly, I'll never make it. Last night I had noted the altitude changes I made in Nepal on the Annapurna Circuit and the problems I had. The general advice is to advance no more than 300 meters per day over 3000 meters. Here is our schedule, obviously surpassing the recommendation of altitude changes:

day 1 - Nanyuki (1948m)
day 2 - Sirimon Gate (2600m) - start walking
day 2 - Old Moses (3300m)
day 3 - Shiptons Camp (4200m)
day 4 - Pt. Lenana (4985m) (16,350ft)
day 4 - Badas Camp (2900m)

Both Kilimanjaro and Mt. Kenya drive tourists too high too fast and they suffer. Many people never make their destination (one half are successful on Kili), and even worse. Yesterday an 21 year old English girl died on Kenya, an avoidable tragic loss.

We made Old Moses about 145pm, in under three hours including a half hour lunch. We walked through the old bunkhouse and chose our beds, then after tea with biscuits and chocolate, Robyn and I ascended for forty five minutes as part of an acclimatisation walk. Maybe we were two hundred meters above the camp. We could see it clearly below except when an extraneous low cloud passed by us. We were just below a ceiling of clouds, patches of sun peaked trough to light spots on the mountain. Between the mountain below and the dark clouds, Nanyuki was also in the bright sun.

Mo 8/30/99 - Shipton's Camp. Mt. Kenya (4200m)

The five of us started off at 7am and Frank followed not far behind. The walk was through a strange and beautiful landscape in the Mackinder Valley, strange for the large lobelia, beautiful for the big landscapes of jagged and snow crusted peaks. The walk took five hours, probably too fast. Even though Joseph guessed our arrival at between 1pm and 2pm and said we were very fast, he did nothing to slow us and sometimes prodded us on after short stops. I wanted to go slow, we were ascending 900 meters, and had I realised how much quicker we were to beating the consistent afternoon rain at about 1pm, I would have slowed. The walk was very good, a gradual incline except for one slog up after a descent to cross the Likii River. The last bit before Shipton's caves were exceptionally pretty for the trail followed a nice smooth U-shaped valley adorned with lobelia and alpine grasses. We also passed rock hyrax, large hedgehog like creatures whose closest relative is the elephant, and various colorful wildflowers. There are also elephant and buffalo in the park although we saw only the spore of them. Mt. Kenya loomed ahead, an attractive twin peaked mountain. The top of the valley was covered with sheer walls reaching in columns, a yellow and red jagged stone.

We reached Shiptons's Camp by noon, a rougher and more worn camp than Old Moses. It's also made of wood, but long ago and the rough painted walls and tables and foam mattresses need help. There are three bunkrooms of sixteen or so beds. One long room was built that stretches the length of the building where we had meals and socialised.

We spent the afternoon talking, I did a small amount of journal, and we planned but never made another acclimatisation walk. Rain then darkness persuaded us against it.

The talk was of the 21 year old English girl who had died. She was beaten by the mountain and altitude but foremost by her own stupidity and stubbornness. She had continued on trekking despite a two day headache and made Pt. Lenana then went on to attempt to complete the circuit trail around the peaks. Her boyfriend was an officer in the English military which provided more speculation by the curious as to why they may have continued on. With my brief experience and observations of idiots in Nepal I was nervous of possible problems but still amazed at how many trekkers take the potentially hostile altitude too foolhardy.

Although the camp was half-empty, there were a fair number of trekkers and for some reason many more Kenyans. The Kenyans really seemed to enjoy each others company - a lot of banter and laughter. They all cooked together in a rather disgusting kitchen and fed us about the same time.

Early tomorrow we would make our summit attempt.

Tu 8/31/99 - Badas Camp. Mt. Kenya (2900 m)

The night ended early for the morning started early. A head poked into our bunkroom at 310am. In the long room running the length of the building and under candlelight tea and sweet biscuits were waiting on old wooden tables for breakfast. Frank joined the barely living in silence.

Robyn and I followed Joseph in the light of the three-quarter moon for our rendezvous with Kenya's third highest peak. The porters would later shortcut through Simba Col and on to Mintos Camp. We had heard that others had made the five kilometer hike to Pt. Lenana in two and a half or three hours and left about 3am, but Joseph tried to time it so we would arrive at sunrise and miss the traumatic waiting in the blistering cold. Since we were faster than most, we left later. But then, I didn't want to rush the dawn attack, but anyway, we were now off.

Quickly the grade turned very steep and I gazed above us and tried to sort out where we were heading. At our first rest stop, Frank and his guide David caught us, and from then to the top David would lead and Joseph would bring up the rear. The gravel and scree and small rocks were a nuisance for slipping under foot and the pace was too often too quick, at least for me, so I slowed a bit and so did the whole slinky train. Had I not been there, Frank would have kept right behind David, who later said that he didn't like going slow, and then Robyn and Joseph would have also kept pace. For someone who hasn't exercised in the last two months and smokes albeit lightly, Robyn was really impressive. She could beat my aching lungs in ascents, and never suffered any symptoms of altitude sickness.

So, I swore to myself when my lungs were lost and occasionally stopped for breathers. David and Frank would get ahead then would lay down on rocks to rest, not exactly the correct formula for altitude ascents. The Swahili saying is 'poli poli' - slowly, and Joseph said it but didn't want so many stops either.

But the scene was beautiful. The moon easily lit our way, and the black shadows of ridgelines of the peaks around us were clear against the stars and bright moonlight. Peaks loomed above us but we couldn't figure out exactly where we were heading even with input from the guides. Truth was, Pt. Lenana was now out of sight behind the slope and the distance wasn't as close as we hoped.

There were a couple more rest and water stops, one ten minutes from the top but sheltered from the freezing wind at the summit. Here we were able to gaze at the dawning splendor. Directly away from the mountain was the eastern horizon, thin clouds sat there, but the sky above was clear and turning from black to deep dark blue. Only the jagged edges of the steep treeless landscape below were softly lit, the recesses between still in deep darkness.

The last push brought us around to the north side of the mountain, up a short rock clamber, then to an slight inclined exposed ridgeline to the summit. Now the sunrise was having more effect and the landscape from Kenya's highest mountain began to unfold. Sunrays were lighting the tops of clouds that filled the lower mountains thousands of meters below and that extended to the horizon. The clouds were low, flat, puffy, and swirling, with pink and yellow highlights. To the east many peaks and ridgelines were exposed and becoming more visible, the other sides of the mountain were trailing right behind, in the far distances the tops of taller mountains broke through the cloud cover. Close behind and to the west, Mt. Kenya's two highest peaks, Nelton (5189m) and Mbattan (5199m), stood proud and aloof.

The top of Point Lenana was interesting and photogenic for mounted there were two crosses, one with crescent moon, a Kenyan flag, and a plaque noting the passing of a men of mountains.

It was a marvellous scene and to make the occasion more festive Joseph and the other guides were excitedly running about in the cold laughing and posing us and themselves in different positions for snapshots.

The temperature was low, a water bottle we placed on the ground between rocks was half ice after thirty minutes. Robyn and I wore all the clothing available but since the rented gloves and hats weren't the proper quality, thats where we suffered most, especially Robyn's hands. With a wind of twenty knots, I guessed the wind chill temperature at -10 C.

Just below Lenana on the slight ridgeline stood four people looking glum, huddled with hands in pockets. We would later find that they were a group of Israelis, yet another example how they travel cheaply and put themselves into positions beyond there measure.

Joseph was escepically boyish for running around the top beaming, taking pictures, and jumping into my photos and I smiled at him for it. We grouped around the markers for a group shot, including Blacky, in the warm colored light from the sun. I then observed a hut, Austrian Hut, sitting picturesque on a ridgeline way below and to the east. The hut, the ridgeline, peaks Nelton and Mbattan, and the rest of the western mountain were a beautiful sight.

Because of the cold, no-one in our duel group disagreed to leaving after half an hour. We quickly descended a different route directly east to a small pond a few hundred meters below protected from the tough cold. We stood on a large slight incline of rock and short grass in an amphitheatre of walls of mountain around us. The sun was out in full force, still low though with warm light, but with rays warming to the body - another pretty scene worthy of a picture.

From here Franz went on down the mountain. He was pressed for time, flying home in two days, wanted to be in Nairobi today, and would be walking straight to Chigoria to taxi out. This is some incredibly ridiculous amount of kilometers - 54 kilometers - in one day.

We continued east and onto the Chigoria Trail, through a absolutely beautiful valley called Gorgeous Valley. It is wide and meanders off the higher elevations of the mountain with sheer rock cliffs hugging it. Unusual and very impressive are the cactus trees called lobelia that dominate the scene. Lobelia are tall with scaley trunks, halfway up it spreads skyward into long thick green branches.

Our porters, Charles and Kamao, had shortcut Lenana from Shipton's to Chigoria Trail via Simba Col with most of our kit and met us on Chigoria Trail.

We breakfasted at Minto's Hut, a very ramshackle structure that was not recommended for lodging. However, the other half of the Israeli group from the peak were here and they all stayed the night. The ascent up Chigoria increased quickly in altitude and these Israelis were ill and abstained from a summit attempt. They also wore only light clothing and no hats or gloves.

The valley and most of the rest of our trek today was wide and open and pretty and changed to keep my eye interested. There were different rock formations, an occasional small pond or larger lake, the trail dipped over a cliff, and the vegetation slowly changed with the lower altitude.

From Point Lenana to Badas Camp, also called Mt. Meru Lodge, is 21 kilometers, a fair bit for walking in one day. The last 7 kilometers was along a red dirt and muddy road, slow going with a lot of criss-crossing the mud and puddles. Here the reliable afternoon skies proved consistent with darkness and drizzle. Robyn and I walked the road slower than our guys. I talked non-stop and Robyn may have heard too much of my life and at the end of it I couldn't convince Robyn that I am actually quiet. The conversation was fun and interesting and helped while away the long and slow road and maybe only hindered quicker progress slightly. We reached Badas Camp about 2pm, a long 10 hour day, and there argued about the accommodation they had planned for us and made a compromise for a proper room, not in our favor. This cost us additional 1500 shillings ($20)f

The room had an attached bath, kitchen, small living room with fire, and a porch with a misty view. It was very comfortable and homey especially after the rougher mountain lodges. Joseph, Charles and Kamao, also found our lodging to their liking and set up dinner in the kitchen and lounged near the fire while we took a nap. I woke before dinner to find Joseph smiling and talkative with a beer in hand, sitting comfortably and warm in a big padded wooden chair. He slept the night close to the fire. We laughed at their intrusion but couldn't blame them and didn't really mind until the morning.

Chigoria Gate --10km-- Old Moses Camp --18km -- Shipton Camp --5km-- Lenana --21km-- Badas Camp (7km of road to Badas) -- 28km --Chagoria

Nanyuki (1948m)
Sirimon route
Sirimon Gate (2600m)
Old Moses (3300m)
Shiptons Camp (4200m)
Pt. Lenana (4985m)
Peaks Nelton (5189m) and Mbattan (5199m)
Chogoria route
Chogoria Gate (3020m)

We 9/1/99 - Nairobi

Maybe if Africans had wristwatches and alarms and worked nine to five and lights in their houses they wouldn't get up so damn early. They rattled in the kitchen at 5am and officially woke us at 6am with breakfast. Another trekker from Scotland also joined us for early breakfast.

The rest of the trek out was monotonous road and not worthy of effort except for the upper reaches of Chogoria village, an array of patchwork plantations of tea, coffee, and a variety of fruits and spices. Before the village we passed through Chogoria Gate (3020m) and being white had to sign out of the park. The big middle aged man attending the small wooden booth passed his name and suggested we use him us a guide next time. Next time?!

After a leisurely lunch in Chigoria with more photos, we rode from Mt Kenya in a humorously full matatu, also called a Nissan. One brightly dressed and sorry large young women was taken from her comfortable seat in front of us and placed next to the sliding door and was required to get in and out each time the matatu stopped. Sometime she stood with her bright patterned buttocks hanging outside, for the matatu was too full and the door couldn't close.

Back at Planet Safari, Ruth had returned from the beaches near Mombasa and was now on her last night in Africa before starting 'uni' (university) in Sheffield. It was nice to see her again and after Ruth's errands we walked over to Supreme again for Indian food.