I breastfed my baby for the last time and left my cottage at 10am PST. I drove to Vancouver. I moved around some packing and went to the seabus. I travelled the hour to the airport on the skytrain and checked in. I waited the three hours for departure on Air Canada to London. I flew to London. I had a shower and found the group. I waited 45 minutes for Kenya Airways to issue my ticket after they made an administrative error. I waited for the flight. I flew to Kenya. I landed at 4:30am Kenya time. That’s 5:30PM PST. I had travelled for 31.5 hours just to transfer from my home country to my destination country.
We waited an hour to be picked up by the Savage Tours team. We stepped out from the sanctuary of the arrivals area into the Kenyan Air. We boarded a mini bus. Bus tour? No.
We drove two hours to our first nights accommodation. It’s an unimpressive African hotel. I am tired and uninspired to bring out my camera. There are no photos.
We take a tester ride and I am shocked by the weakness in my legs. There are no photos.
We visit a girls school. The setting is so personal that I don’t feel comfortable taking photos. It’s good but not good.
We sleep. A mosquito buzzes all night and I wake up with my one hand covered in bites.
And now we start. We descend into the Rift Valley with the rising of the sun. I take some photos.
Official Day 1: 82.79 KM. 1626m of elevation loss. 357m of elevation gain. 2805 Calories.
This is a long luxurious descent. We start at dawn and the ridge of the western edge of the Rift Valley casts a deep dark shadow over the road as we wind down the escarpment.
We encounter our first cars and I normalize a new kind of defensive riding. The road is narrow so oncoming cars are really coming very close. There are many unmarked flaws in the road.
Three things about cycling in Africa.
1. Big wide skies.
2. Lush verdant greens.
3. Long winding roads.
and 4… as always… the people we cycle with.
Here goes my ‘bestie’, my ‘aunty’ Shelley. And John, the man whose perseverance encouraged me to be here.
Sandi is 70. She beats me up quite a few hills. When I grow up I want to be like Sandi.
I rode it! I used the trick my dad taught me as a little girl - weave back and forth.
This is our first glimpses coasting down the hill to Magadi.
Unfortunately the headwind was so strong by this point that a significant amount of pedalling was required.
And, it was 44 degrees celsius.
It was a hard arrival. And I took no photos.
This little tent is minimal inside. And it has an Air Conditioner. I take a nap.
This tree was alight with bees (African Killer Bees). I laughed. But apparently they really are African Killer Bees. They were loud enough to hear at least 50m away.
Good Morning and Goodbye, little tent.
Day 2: 34.57 KM. 190m of elevation loss. 213m of elevation gain. 1821 Calories.
Now it’s much hotter than at dawn on day 1. It’s much drier. And now we’re on dirt road.
Typical Rest Stop. There’s treated water and a variety of snacks. There are some chairs.
More long winding road and big wide open skies.
Our first night of “rough” camping.
We are firmly warned about the pale anemic translucent scorpions of this area. We are told to always bang out our shoes and keep our eyes open.
We receive a talk about how the local Masai are trying to create harmony between their pastoral lifestyle and the wildlife that they live alongside. There are approximately 50 lions in the area along with cheetah and leopard and elephants which rampage through peoples farms. Do not worry.
Each of us on our own, or with our room mate, rustles around and learns how to set up our own miniature HQ’s in our tents. One kind of privacy is gone because nylon does not insulate sound. All night I hear a lot about who has lost what from their bags. Those with room mates seem to wish they had specified “single supplement”.
It’s very, very, very (very. very. very), hot. I lay under this giant pagoda for hours sweating in the stagnant dry heat. Bats fly around and cling to the roof and I try to make sense of their poo pattern to make sure I’m not laying under the drop zone.
We’re being taken on a game drive, in search of those 50 lions and etc.
Shelley and Karen
That man is our tracker.
A rainbow a ways off. Will it rain?
Animals are hard to photograph in the dusk light. We did see a handful of cheetah and this lovely giraffe.
The team stays up with beers and campfire but I am going to sleep. I dream many dreams about translucent scorpions. Well before dawn I am up. I find their fire from last night still smouldering as the sun is rising.
Is there any place on earth that isn’t best at sunrise?
Outhouse. Do not be afraid. Try to keep it closed to protect your privacy. Do not close it too much or you will die of stench and flies. There are baboons and leopard watching you. Don’t stress.
Sunrise sunlight on the savannah trees.
The local Masai and Kenya Wildlife Service gentleman (one person, two roles) is taking us on a walking Baboon Safari at dawn.
The landscape is a star in itself.
There are rules on the walking baboon safari. We can not wear red. We must wear hats. These rules are to differentiate us from the historical patterns of conflict between humans and baboons in the area. Historically, Masai do not wear hats, they do wear red, and they have a lot of conflict with baboons. It seems to work as the baboons let us get very close.
Sunrise Selfie.
That, is a baboon family, playing in their safe home space.
The hillside is scattered with playing baboons and traced with baboon tracks.
Baboon jungle gym. The mamas and babies are happy in these trees.
It’s fascinating to be so close to such a large family of these big monkeys.
Walking Safari in the mountain biking shoes. I’m starting to feel like a real cycling explorer.
There is a lot of beauty in the details of this landscape, which appears like a scrubby dry pseudo-desert to the naked eye.
Day 3. 20.01km cycling. 1.3km walking. Unknown km in the truck (about a km). 349m of cycling elevation gain. 211m of walking elevation gain. 2580 Calories burned.
This day is reported to include a large uphill. We start with a gradual long uphill which is just enough of a challenge to surprise us all. And then while waiting for the group to catch up I take an opportunity for a bit of shopping at this local “strip mall”. Thanks to John for the warm coke, which I passed to Shelley, who passed it to John, who passed it to Tony.. and then I rode on.
We are just at the bottom of the enormous uphill, which we can easily see looming above us. We will be traveling on a private road owned by the Leaky’s.
The uphill is enormously difficult. There’s loose rock under the tires and no end in sight. The grade is just, HUGE. I struggle and fall off and struggle again. I can see the truth laid out before me - I leave the bike for the truck to pick up and take off on foot.
Most of the team is already in the truck and I was the last female still trying on bike. I hike for a bit but I feel hot (yet cold) and weak. I realize I may be in serious danger of heat stroke and I take an invitation into Mark’s truck when he catches up to me. I ride with Sandi and Mark up a very very steep incline. Until the truck gets stuck.
The truck churns and digs itself in. It’s scary to me. I ask to get out but they insist every last pound is needed in the truck. When they finally give up I hop out like a kernel of corn escaping the popcorn machine. I’m back on foot and hiking again.
There’s lots of chances to turn back and photograph the growing expanse laid out below. That truck will be stuck for at least two hours, it turns out. I’m walking alone through the high Kenyan landscape. Mark has told me that the hills are full of snakes, leopards, and lions. But he says there’s nothing to worry about. This climb is the equivalent of the Grouse Grind but fully exposed to the equatorial sun. I’m glad my Tilly was stuffed into my Camelback.
It’s steeper than it looks.
Steve is way back in this photo. In the end he will be one of, maybe three? who make it to the top without the help of the truck. But his tire is flat so he’s pushing his bike up the never-ending incline.
One miracle on the day of ascending, what I shall call, Leaky’s Mountain, is that Caroline turns into a grasshopper. She’s just joyfully summited the never-ending-hill. She has limitless energy. She talks a lot about the sparkles in the rocks.
After meeting up with Caroline, we then connect with Karen and John. As a group we are still all ascending and still forging forward on our own (no guides). Everyone is in good spirits although hungry, wondering about the struck truck, and curious if we are even going the right direction.
It’s been at least two hours since I left the stuck truck, and there’s a truck! We’re at the top of Leaky’s Mountain and on our way again.
After lunch we’re back on the bikes and now rolling through the undulating Kenya high country. The setting up here is different once again. Dirt tracks, cooler temperatures, red earth, and no traffic or true signs of modern life.
There goes Karen.
And Shelley. My bike is damaged from the fall I took at the bottom of the hill and I’m completely exhausted. I make it to camp but there’s no jazz in me this afternoon.
I think of this as Leopard Camp. Although truthfully we’ve been told we are in Leopard Country at every stop and turn on this trip. This is on the banks of a high mountain river. The guides hack down the long grasses and thorns to make space for our tents.
Savage Tours really knows how to handle a camp. We’ve got power for our respective electronics needs (I do not need, but good to know). We’ve got cold drinks. We have warm food and comfy chairs. These guys are pros.
This is the river front shower which was unfolded from the back of the trucks. It takes a few hours but my helpful guides finally hang a bucket of boiling water up on that tower for me.
I’m not an expert but this is, I believe, the paw print of a significantly large predator cat. I took this in the sand next to my tent.
The sun has set and the stars are ablaze. The fire is raging. The river is running just a hundred meters away. Mark Savage, the senior Savage, is waxing poetic about the unique and magical geology and geography of this area. He’s a vault of knowledge on his home region.
Tomorrow morning, at 5am, I’ll meet Mark back at the campfire. He’s making toast. I get him a cup of his signature weak powdered coffee with milk. And I enjoy a private sunrise hour listening to him tell stories.
There was this one time, when he saw a camel which had been taken down by a pride of lions. The lions were still there, picking over their feast. And Mark thought to himself “I want a piece of that meat.”
He got out of the car and got to sawing off a large piece of meat with his pocket blade. He gave the lions the side eye to keep them at bay. He threw the hide of the camel into the back of his car and drove on.
That evening in camp he hung the hide in the tree, and as hoped, a male leopard promptly arrived and spent the night working on the meat, just feet from Mark’s camp.
Goodbye Leopard Camp. We’re off again.
It was a night of rain. I said “tut tut, looks like rain”, and hung my fly and pegged it out. I was accused of worrying. Nobody else put up their fly. And it poured.
Day 4. 73.31 km. 991m of elevation gain. 4063 Calories Burned.
My jazz is back. I’m riding strong.
Taking photos in this area is a bit tricky, because we are not permitted to photograph the residents (Masai).
Somewhere near here, Steve crashes his bike. James uses all of his professional guiding skills to stabilize and check for serious damage. Unfortunate Steve doesn’t ride again for the rest of the trip, though he doesn’t show any outward sign of injuries.
And suddenly we emerge onto a main roadway.
Back in my “three person” nylon HQ. I like the rhythm of my routine. I have a way of doing things. I am at home in executing my plans.
Dinner and then this Africa campfire, under the stars with the moaning chanting of the Masai song.
We’re hosted by a local chief. He’s very friendly. By nightfall he seems drunk. He offers a local ceremonial brew. We’re honoured. I dump the juice and head for my tent. Others are up all night.
Day 5. 50.4 km. 175m of elevation gain. 1479 Calories.
It’s hard, flat, and fast. I’ve got my legs. This is fun.
‘Guess I’m feeling good.
Bada-boom! We’ll camp here. There’s a river just out of sight in that tree line and monkeys scampering in the canopy.
There’s lots of thorns in the scrub and we’re asked to walk our bikes the last few hundred metres in order to prevent punctures.
Elephants are passing on the horizon. We’re told they come to the river in the night so we may see them again. I don’t end up seeing them again.
I want a photo to illustrate the size of an elephant poo, so James grabs one and starts to threaten to eat it…
… I was thinking something more like this.
The hum and life of a camp where nothing was before.
Camp food is simple and delicious. Fresh made Kenyan sausages, beans, eggs, etc. And always campfire.
Sunrise. Say no more.
Mark making toast. I don’t know what joy those who sleep-in are gaining during the trip since they’re missing the first hour of the day with this Kenyan legend.
This soft spoken woman set up her art and creations a few hundred metres from our camp. She waited all afternoon, all evening, and all morning, in case one of us would be her client. She never approached us or hassled. James tells us that this isn’t a touristic area, and if any of us wanted to give her a little business that would be kind. Even when I approach her she doesn't say much. We negotiate on a lovely beaded piece which I will hang on my boy’s bedroom wall. She gives me permission to take this photo.
Day 6. 37.34 km. 106 m elevation gain. 1041 calories.
Today we are cruising across the border zones of the Mara.
In a way, this is the real Africa. In another way, for the tens of millions of Africans who live in urban settings, it’s not. But for many Africans this is what ‘town’ means to them.
It’s a scrubby collection of buildings that appears to be placed the middle of nowhere noticeable. This is not at a y in the river or the base of a mountain. There’s probably no doctor here but there might be a pharmacy where you can buy malaria treatment and pain killers. The local shop likely sells Pringles, Coke, mobile phone credit, and eggs. You can buy what’s available.
Time for our iconic Masai Mara team photo.
We RODE THE RIFT.
A proper tourist camp. There’s a hot shower in there and it’s alllll for me.
This is the Mara.
We have arrived.
The End.
