Hell’s Gate

On Sunday night, I twittered the following on my Facebook page:

Neel Bhargava is exhausted from mountain biking, camping, and riding in minivans with 19 people.

Add “zebras” and “European girls” to that list, and that sums up my weekend trip to Hell’s Gate* National Park.

*The park derives it’s name from a geographical point in the gorge. The narrow break in the cliffs, once caused many drowning deaths among the local Masai people, according to our guide.

Mountain biking

Hell’s Gate is the only park in Kenya where you can roam freely, unaccompanied by a vehicle, guide, or weapon, leading Lonely Planet to write “there is visiting national parks, and then there is experiencing national parks – and Hell’s Gate is an experience indeed.” I haven’t visited any other parks so far (not counting Mt. Kenya), so I can’t yet verify this claim but it was, indeed, a really cool experience.

I’ve always been interested in mountain biking*, although it’s largely been an unexplored interest. In 6^th grade, I remember ordering catalogs from Trek, Specialized, and Cannondale, eager to have a cycle to match the caliber of my friend Brian’s, but was never able to acquire one of these very expensive (and unnecessary for a 6^th grader) machines. Instead, I was relegated to bike around the many hills and woods of Danbury, CT on my Huffy.

When I heard that biking was the preferred method of traversing Hell’s Gate, I penciled a visit in as a must during my time here. (Walking the park is an option, but the size of the park is prohibitive. Taking a vehicle is also possible, but rarely used due to the unique lack of restrictions noted above.)

Unsurprisingly, the bikes available for rent at the park were also not quite top-of-the-line. Luckily, we were able to find mountain, rather than road, bikes; they were both old and unsophisticated, but they worked. They were not, however, comfortable. This was apparent within seconds of sitting on the bike’s visually padded yet tactilely stiff seat, but I did not fully realize the extent of the discomfort until after re-boarding the cycle after a two hour trek down the well sculpted gorge. It was a slightly painful, and thus much longer and less enjoyable, ride out of the park and back to the campsite.

All in all though, it was great – being able to explore unabated, getting within a few yards of exotic animals, with nothing more than the hot, dusty air in between was very cool, and trekking the gorge was all very cool. It was also excellent exercise: I estimate we covered about 25-30km, which may not be much on a road, but for a novice biker like myself on rough terrain and under an 80 degree sun, it was a challenging workout.

*Mountain biking is actually somewhat of a misnomer here: the landscape was mostly flat, but the terrain was dirt and rocks. Perhaps “offroad” biking is a more appropriate term.

Camping

Camping was also exhausting, for different reasons.

The campground was beautiful, situated on Lake Naivasha and covered with hundred-foot tall acacia trees, and the auxiliary facilities were more than adequate – hot showers better than that in my apartment here and a bar and restaurant with decent food. The primary “facilities”, however, - namely the tent and sleeping artifacts – left much to be desired.

When I’d called the camp to reserve space, they told me they would have a two-man tent, two mattresses and two blankets ready (for me and my fellow traveler, Bosco, a new volunteer from Spain). Mattresses? An unusual, but most welcomed, tool for camping, I thought; maybe it wouldn’t be so bad after all. I was wrong. It was. The 1 inch-thick, old, dirty “mattresses” provided little barrier between my back and the rigid earth beneath. The tent did serve its main purpose of protecting us from the rain and other elements, but did little to block the noises emanating from the bush on the other side of the electric fence – hippos, birds, monkeys, et. al.

It was sort of cool, I suppose, to be “out in the elements” and “with nature”, but any slight enjoyment this created was banished after a couple hours of lying there, continually repositioning myself thinking I would finally find a sliver of earth that was not rock-hard. In total, I laid there for a good 8 or 9 hours but slept only 3, and awoke with stiff back to complement my sore backside.

I’ll never understand the draw of camping.

Riding in minivans with 19 people

Actually, they were matatus, remodeled old VW minibuses, but I figured minivan was more understandable to the general reader. Furthermore, I underestimated the number of people. There were actually closer to 25 – my Spanish companion (who had commented on how crowded the country seemed even before this ride) pointed out that there were 5 rows of seats in the back of the matatu, not 4 as I’d thought.

Five rows, with 3 proper seats per row. No need to grab the calculator – that’s 15 seats total, plus 3 in the front, for a total of 18. So how do you get to 25? Well, for one, you simply let anyone who wants a ride climb aboard. After we’d reached about 16 or 17, I’d think, with each subsequent passenger, “that has to be the last one…they can’t fit anyone else.” And time and time again, I was wrong. People would hop on without thinking twice, and squeeze their way to the back where the bench was slightly wider than the others, or place 1/8 of themselves on a seat and somehow support the rest of their body between the 1-seat and 2-seat benches that characterized the middle rows, or simply tell a small child to get up and stand in front of them.

It was, I must say, an exercise in maximum efficiency. It was also highly unsafe. No seatbelts – in fact, no seats for some –, no airbags, and no respect for driving rules is a bad combination. But, when in Rome…

The abovementioned matatu was the first of two. The second, from Naivasha back to Nairobi was slightly less anarchic. But, after being confronted by multiple agents and bargaining our way down from 400Ksh to 200, we got duped into taking the non-express route, which became apparent only after we’d made our 15^th stop in 25 kms. It took forever; luckily, I had a good seat in the front, or it would have been much less tolerable. Bosco was not quite as fortunate – he was stuck behind me, forced to clutch his backpack in his lap the entire ride, looking extremely nervous and suspicious the entire ride. Later, he asked me, with a touch of amazement, if I wasn’t also “a bit worried.” Few more weeks, I thought, and, like I did, he’ll realize that, in most cases in Kenya, discomfort is more of a concern than is danger.

Zebras

Zebras were the animal highlight of the park. They were everywhere; usually not in large packs, but a few dotted the landscape every half-kilometer or so. I saw two within ten minutes of entering the park, and furiously peddled to catch up with them, not realizing how relatively abundant they were in the park. The abundance led Basco to comment on our ride back that he’d “had enough” of the referee-striped animal.

Other animals prevalent in the park were: impala, gazelle, eland, and warthogs (Pumba from Lion King). Buffalo are also common, but we missed their daily commute from one part of the park to the other. Giraffes are also usually seen; unfortunately we did not spot any, probably, said our guide, due to the heat – they were hiding themselves in the shade.

European girls

European girls love to bike, it seems. More so than the guys, or perhaps they just like to travel (to East Africa) more. Either way, the fairer side of the Germans and Dutch were well represented in the Kenyan countryside that day. The three German girls – two working in Nairobi, one a student visiting from Deutschland – were unaccompanied; the three Dutch girls were travelling with one guy. Who knew a bike trail in a national park in Kenya would have a better ratio than Underground on Saturday night?

Unfortunately, that’s where the story ends - they all went back to Nairobi that same day.

-----------------

Check out facebook for the full album of pictures (to be posted Thursday)