Adventure!

There has been a lot of adventuring as of late. Maria and I caught an early morning matatu ride heading towards an elevated and verdant town called Nyahururu. Good luck pronouncing it. It was a fairly bustling little place not unlike Nanyuki. It had many dukas and restaurants that lined the main road traveling through the heart of the town. We bargained with a taxi driver who at first attempted to rip us of, but later gave us a moderately fair price and we rode with him six kilometers outside of Nyahururu center. The campsite we ended up at was surrounded by a stick fence and had several small structures made of wood and tin. We went up to reception which was located in a dilapidated two-staged bus from who knows where. 

Not-so-good shot of the two-staged bus. 

After talking to an employee and getting set up in our banda, we were led around on a mini tour of the site. It contained a few bandas for sleeping, a kitchen and dining hall, a playground made from recycled metals and wood, several small field areas, a tightrope made out of a giant log, an exercise machine which essentially was a giant block of metal standing alone and a "two kilometer" Forrest for bird watching. 

The playground made from recycled materials. 

It began to rain, so we settled in and read for a while. When the rain ceased we walked around the Forrest looking for birds till sundown. At night we had a bonfire outside and ate chapati, rice, greens and stewed meat (well I ate the meat) while staying warm. The proprietor hassled us a bit for donations to his various causes that needed funding. So we retreated to our banda and called it an early night.

           In the morning we packed up and headed for the beautiful Thompson's falls. It had been raining a lot so the falls were raging pretty hard. We walked down the stone steps that lead through the dense foliage to the base of the falls. We took pictures and quietly watched the force of nature. It was surprisingly calming and peaceful. Then a parade of about two hundred primary school students began funneling down the steps so we made our leave. 

Thompson's falls from above. 

Maria and the steps heading down to the base of the falls 

Me being me at the base of the falls. 

After a bit of shopping we bought two tickets to a little town to the north called Rhumaruti. We sat in the matatu for about an hour before it finally filled up. The journey North took us through several small farming villages with beautiful scenery. Once at rhumaruti we hired two boda boda to take us the rest of the way to our destination in the bush. It was an hour long ride on dirt roads. It began to rain about five minutes into our trip. Then it began to pour. The roads turned into rivers and we were drenched. My back ached horribly from clenching onto the motor bike, hoping not to slip off. Once we reached our destination, a campsite perched on top of a hill called "Bobong", we popped off the bikes and drew a general groan from all the expats who watched us arrive. They were sympathetic to our wetness and immediately offered us hot coffee. I shivered uncontrollably as I prepared both Maria and myself a cup. Then we stood by a cooking fire under a tarp till the shivering quit. We thanked the expats, then found our Danish friends Marie and Mahtilde and our Canadian friend Pamela sitting in a nearby banda sipping red wine. The rain had finally stopped around sunset. That night we dried off and danced with some locals around a camp fire while attempting to sing in tribal languages. Singing in which languages? I have no idea. It was mounds of fun. 

In the early afternoon we made our way down the hill to a field across the road. We were attending a camel derby in the bush. A track had been set up with wooden poles attached with plastic ribbon that formulated a giant oval perhaps a kilometer in diameter. There were moaning camels bearing their disgusting gums and teeth everywhere. All the locals from far and wide had come to attend and many were garbed in their tribal attire. There were many stands selling local jewelry, others were selling booze, soda and goat meat. After much waiting and warm beer drinking the races finally started. It worked much like horse racing would in the States. About eight to ten men riding camels once around the track as an announcer yelled over a loudspeaker. Except the announcer yelled in swahili. People cheered as well. After loosing some misplaced bets we sat under the thin shade of an acacia tree eating grilled goat meat and chapati. Many local dogs came to join us begging for scraps. At one point there was a baby camel race. You could hear the cries for miles around as they separated the mother camels from their juveniles. They then placed numbers on some of the irate and upset children, lined them downfield from their mothers and then had them race back to their pack. It was both entertaining and heart-wrenching. In the end the winning baby camel was rewarded by being separated from the pack again to be identified as it screamed intensely. There was also a triathlon that was one part running, one part bike ride the last part camel ride. In the afternoon a thunderstorm loomed overhead so we made our way back up the hill to the campsite to avoid getting soaked (again). 

 Adult camels that were ridden in the races.

 Mid race.

 Baby camels racing to their mothers.

A local about to ride his bike ("boda boda" when used as a taxi).

 Lost bets.

         The next day the five of us loaded into a truck and drove on dirt roads through the bush back to Daraja. Along the way we spotted a few elephants, leopard tortoises, grevy zebras, warthogs, and a group of twenty-four giraffes. We arrived at Daraja to have lunch with the girls. Maria and I then said good-bye to the Danes and the Canadian. We then caught a ride to town with a fellow Mets fan from New York who graciously paid for our fair saying: "From one Mets fan to another, let me get this one." We spent the night in town in our own beds. 

 Grevy zebra

 Leopard Tortoise.

 Elephant up on the hill. 

Pack of giraffe. 

In the morning we went food shopping in preparation for our adventure up north. The two of us met up with Tom the conservationist-biologist, his son Jake, are best Kenyan friend Charles from the bush house and a man named Peter who used to work for Tom back in the day. We packed up two cars with supplies and then hit the road. We drove through Timau past all the flower farms that are infecting the earth to the major junction near Meru, then took a left turn to Isiolo. Isiolo is incredibly dry and has a rather large Muslim population. It looked almost like Nanyuki minus all the green trees.  After picking up diesel fuel and being questioned by some local police we made our way up past the Ewaso Nyiro river that is also located near the bush house. Here the river ran through a small village called "Archer's Post." Tom told us that it used to be the last refuge before the long trek 500 km to the Ethiopian border. Now, however, there are a few more villages to the North in the dry desolate lands such as Marsabit. The roads were immaculate; Some of the finest I have seen in East Africa. They were Made by some Chinese company and are hardly used by anything else besides trucks carrying sand and minerals taken from somewhere up north. After the post we found the giant granitic dome known as Mt. Ololokwe. It was our final stop alongside the pristine road. We parked the car to marvel at it. Then two local Samburu men came by to take us inside the reserve. We drove in through a sand covered valley between two mountains that were riddled with Acacia robusta trees. We ended our drive at a camping spot. After setting up our tents, Jake, Charles, Peter and myself spent two hours climbing the smaller mountain next to the dome. The bush was so thick along the way that Peter had to hack a trail with a panga (basically a machete). There were plants, that when touched, would secret a milky white substance, if it went into your eyes, you would go permanently blind. There were many large boulders that required us to deftly climb. We eventually reached the top. Our group went up to the cliffside and yelled down below at the campsite. Charles asked me to take a photo which required me to change lenses on the camera. Like the idiot that I am, I accidentally left one of the lenses on the rock before descending down a much easier route into the valley. Seemingly I had lost the camera lens for good. We cooked posho and sukuma wiki over the campfire for dinner before sleeping in our tents. At night we heard at least three troops of Baboons on the on both sides of the valley somewhere up the mountainside. Jon the Samburu guide told us that there were Leopards disturbing them up in the trees and they were alarm calling. Also we heard a very large Hyena calling in the night. It's voice was monstrous as it reverberated of the the cliff sides. The guide described the Hyena as "kubwa sana" meaning "very big."

Mount Ololokwe

          In the morning our group packed a small supply of food and water onto two donkeys. A local guide named Jon led us up the larger mountainside opposite of the rock that was climbed a day ago. The trail was steep but there was no bush to hack through. The trek offered sweeping views of the valley below. After about two hours up the mountainside the trail opened up to a plateau covered in a field of green grass. Off in the distance was a dense Forrest of cedar and strangler fig trees. It was a totally different world from the base of the mountain. Around this time I realized that I had lost the camera lens. I was pissed at myself. After walking the field we entered the Forrest. Our campsite was then found amongst the trees. We unpacked and rested for a bit. Later a group of us went for a walk along the cliffs. The views were ridiculous to say the least. We theorized about how high we were from the ground and chucked rocks off the edge. We then walked to one of the highest spots on the mountain where we crawled up to the steep ledge to peer at the sudden drop off. Off in the distance we could see blotches of cloud cover littering the landscape. And a road that extended as far as the eye could see. That night we cooked over the fire and slept in sleeping bags out in the open. We were told there were Leopards nearby in the Forrest. So sleep did not come so easy for me. In the morning we descended down the mountain and back to camp. 

 Hanging on the edge.

 Peter, Jon, Jake, me, and Charles.

 A rather large cliffside. 

Dust blowing off in the distance. 

       




         I stayed at the campsite and read Hemmingway for most of the day. Others went for bird watching. Jake climbed a mountain. In the night Tom and Maria went out to look for Bush Babies. They asked me to join. Tom took the lead with his bright head lamp and his Mag light. Maria stalked about thirty paces behind with her super bright head lamp. I took the rear another thirty paces behind with the small light  that was on my cell phone. Since I did not even know what a bush baby looked like and for having such a dinky flashlight, I simply pointed my light at the ground while walking. Tom made clicking noises at the acacia trees in order to draw out the bush babies. After a short while we found three of them. They were very small primates that jumped around the tree branches in search of insects to eat. They were crazy looking with their short tails. After we returned to camp we called it a night. 

Bush baby (Galago Gallarum or Samali Bush Baby) photo taken off the internet.

         In the morning we got word from Jon the guide that a small village nearby had our camera lens. We drove out to them and a women came to return it to us. I was relieved. I took pictures of some of the people in the village with the lens and showed them the results on the digital screen. They laughed hysterically. It occurred to me later that perhaps that was the first time they saw anything like that. It is a good thing when potentially bad situations have a pleasant outcome. The trip was over and we headed back to Nanyuki. This was all a great success. 

The rescuer of my camera. 

The rescuer and other people who lived in the community near Mt. Ololokwe.