12 Days Across Northern Kenya

Two of our clients, Karel and Leanne, spent twelve days wild camping across northern Kenya with Ajabu Wild founder Theo: from Shaba to Sera, over the Ndoto Mountains, and on to Malaso and Lake Baringo. They kept a blog for friends and family back home throughout the trip. With their permission, and translated from the Dutch, here it is in full: funny, honest, and completely unfiltered.

Our first day in the bush doesn't disappoint, ladies and gentlemen. This. Is. Fantastic! We meet Theo and drive straight north, skipping the touristy south with all the famous parks. Firstly because that's way too pricey for these (now broke) travellers, and secondly because we'd rather not run into other tourists. Which is exactly what our guide Theo has in mind: showing us the untouched north of Kenya.

The first wild animals we spot along the highway are donkeys. Punda in Swahili. Leanne is already over the moon. Besides Punda's, we're hoping to spot some Punda Milia's too (striped donkeys), because in Swahili, zebras are literally just "striped donkeys," nothing more, nothing less. Besides donkey-spotting, we also spot a lot of little roadside stalls with grand slogans. We'll be collecting the best ones for you: an anthology of the most inspiring slogans, coming soon.

At the park entrance we pick up our ranger. While we're waiting for him, we spot a ground squirrel behind the gate, already inside the park. Not an elephant, but a promising start... We take our seats on the roof: the best spot for game viewing. Would this be allowed in Europe? Absolutely not. Does it feel safe? Sort of. Is the view amazing? Absolutely! Untouched and quiet, that's what it was. We were literally the only ones in the entire park.

It was so beautiful, folks, impossible to capture on camera (though somewhere there's apparently a production team giving it a go anyway). We spotted a bit of everything: zebras, giraffes, buffalo, waterbucks, antelope, elephants, you name it! We set up camp in a stunning spot along the river and discover our neighbours are baboons. That's a first. After a bit of chilling, it's time for another game drive. Once again, all sorts of wildlife on display.

Cracking open a beer with a view over Shaba.

We crack open a beer in a beautiful spot, baboons as neighbours once more: properly cosy. We say goodbye to the baboons and drive back in the dark. A surprise is waiting for us at camp. While we're cooking, we hear some rustling and splashing. Karel, who's been doing nothing in particular, decides to take a look. Armed with a red flashlight (less disruptive to wildlife), he discovers the baboons have moved out and made way for a family of 10 elephants, happily taking a bath. As it should be.

You may have picked up on it between the lines: we're pretty enthusiastic! And this was only day 1! Who knows what the coming days will bring!

Our night-time neighbours: a family of elephants bathing, seen through the red flashlight.

Camp under the palms after dark.

And now it's time for the reader question: we have a new favourite animal. Any guesses which one? We'll reveal it in the next post #cliffhanger

We wake up at 06.00 to monkeys above our tent camp and Theo playing guitar somewhere in the distance. A nice sound from afar (Karel's happy and feels like he's waking up inside a video game). We already know it, you don't yet: today is the day Karel decided to make it as a goat herder in northern Kenya. Today's trip takes us to a special (and, to the local people, sacred) place: a large crater with spring water at the bottom. Part of this water is red and toxic, and part of it is perfect for an awful lot of goats. And after all those zebras, elephants and giraffes, goats make a nice change too. Keeps us grounded, you know.

The Markato crater: red, toxic water on one side, goat-watering holes on the other.

Samburu herders (Samburu being the most common tribe in this area) come walking in from the surrounding grazing lands to hydrate their goats at this spot. There are only a few entrances to the crater, which means there's a proper queue of goat herds with their herders. One by one they walk into paradise. We wander among them and understand exactly why this place is sacred: it's magical!

Goat herds queuing through the rocky entrance to the crater.

We get some funny looks: what are these people doing here? We learn that the word Muzungu ("white person") means, in Swahili, someone who's aimlessly wandering about. Which checks out: while everyone else is flat-out running a business, we're just doing some dumb loop with not a single goat to herd.

We also learn about a special piece of Samburu culture: the Moran era. Once every 15 years, a circumcision ceremony takes place. This is for boys aged 5 to 15, after which you spend the next 15 years watching over the village's goats. On top of that, you're not allowed home for 15 years and have to learn how to survive in the wild. Pull it off? Congratulations, you're now an "Elder," free to retire and take as many wives as you like. Karel's already updated his CV (hopefully they're not too strict about the age requirement), though he's not thrilled about the circumcision part.

On the way back to camp we swing by a waterfall that's sadly bone dry. We do run into a nomadic group here, busy saddling up their donkeys and camels again. Leanne loses her heart to a baby donkey. Unfortunately Karel won't let the donkey come home with us (it's the Mr. Tripod debacle all over again).

Tonight it's Kenya's national dish on the menu: Nyama Choma (roasted goat). Since we've gotten pretty dusty from the African bush, we decide to stop at a lodge with a pool on the way back to civilisation. Being clean feels amazing, but we realise we definitely don't need to actually stay at a lodge like this. It's huge, fenced in, and your neighbours are probably American. Give us baboons any day.

We climb back onto the roof and drive on to the local butcher/grill. Here, one of Karel's long-held dreams comes true: we see warthogs!! We missed them on the Veluwe, but these Pumbas (Swahili for "silly") make for great photos. At the butcher's they've only got one thing on offer: Nyama Choma. The name says it all, nothing more, nothing less. Goat with some ugali (a kind of dumpling made from cornmeal that you pull pieces off with your hands). We also need to pick up some khat (a local amphetamine, in the form of twigs) for the rangers back at our camp. So Theo and Karel quickly do a drug deal at the local supermarket before the goat hits the table.

We tuck in happily and then do one last night drive back to camp. Red lamp at the ready, Karel manages to spot 2 whole hares and a little fox. Life's good. p.s. spot today's slogan.

Today's programme includes one last game drive in the nearby conservancy: Buffalo Springs. We're hoping to spot lions but mostly see dik-diks, and honestly, we'll take it! The lions are keeping us waiting. Everyone's always going on about spotting the Big Five, but apparently that term was coined by poachers (the five most dangerous ones to kill, a real achievement to bag them all). So on principle, we're not playing that game. Though obviously we're still very much open to spotting a lion.

We drive on to Sera along an unpaved, pretty bumpy road cutting straight through a desert-like savannah. The roads aren't really used, since the people who live here just walk from destination to destination. Everyone looks so beautiful here! Gorgeous coloured necklaces and headpieces. We get quite the round of waving.

Sera is known for conserving the black rhino, a seriously endangered (and apparently grumpy, hence dangerous) species. There are also white rhinos in the park, slightly less dangerous, so we'll try to track those down too! We pick up two rangers and drive to our campsite. We set up camp, and then, well, we've earned ourselves a cold drink. We hand the rangers each a coke too, and they stare at the can like they've never seen anything like it in their lives.

Karel cracks the cans open and the four of us polish off our cokes together. What a bonding moment. Beyond that there's not much communication happening, since they only speak a local language. The Indian food Theo brought along for us turns out to be too exotic for the rangers too. Leanne offers it, they take one look and shake their heads. Dry bread makes them a lot happier.

Suddenly we get a call, a ranger out in the field has spotted the rhinos. Tires screeching, we drive about 2 hours through the park, us on the roof as usual. The plan was to go looking for the animals on foot. But they're literally standing right next to the road. Eye to eye with something that looks like a dinosaur, we can't believe what we're seeing. On the way back we even spot a black rhino wandering around during sunset, magical!

Sunset over the Sera savannah, right after our black rhino sighting.

Then it's time to sleep. Theo keeps announcing, whether it's relevant or not, that he's bought us reeeeally lovely new sleeping mats for this trip. They remind us more of Japanese futons, but hey, we're used to that by now. After a day this full of adventure, you sleep just fine on your own.

We're back on the road! We drive the same route back as we came. Spot plenty more dik-diks and people in gorgeous outfits. At one point a car comes past with about 20 men in it, all dressed up for a ceremony. There's probably a wedding happening in the village further on and people are ready. Sadly we're headed the other way. People often flag us down to stop the car so they can grab a sip of water.

As you already know, we're heading north. This is an area that, until about 10 years ago, wasn't safe: lots of conflict between tribes. Our guide Theo has worked in many conflict zones and is trying, through his company, to bring tourism to places where that wasn't possible before. Every now and then we pass spots that were apparently notorious for ambushes back in the day; luckily we now cruise right through without a hitch.

Along the way we pass a lot of classic Samburu villages and mostly run into sheep and camel herders. We pick up a few hitchhikers here and there, Karel tries to strike up a conversation with them but his shaky Samburu doesn't exactly make for smooth sailing. He does offer someone an apple, who genuinely has no idea what to do with it.

Once we arrive at our destination, base camp of the Ndoto mountains, we meet the 13 people who'll be hiking with us over the coming days. They're from various villages across the mountains, brought together by conservation manager John. A way to let people show off their own area together. They're proud of the business they run: a tour company in their mountain region (and the only one for miles around). They know every path and love showing them off. On top of that, they're the ones hauling a ton of gear up the mountain. We're only their second customer ever...

Real bushcrafters, these guys: knives sharpened with sand, toothbrushes made from plants, they truly know how life works. We're jealous and happy to pick up a few tricks. One of our new friends has a herd of cows and wants to show us how life works around here (and probably also wants to check in on his cows, since his son's been herding them). So tonight we're camping at the exact spot where, at the end of the day, all the cows belonging to different owners come together.

Cows are worth a lot of money here, so these people are probably richer than we are, just in livestock rather than cash (a far more useful kind of wealth, we learn later). Our tent gets pitched right in among the cow pats, and then it's time for a cup of tea (here that mostly means hot milk with heeeeaps of sugar and a tiny splash of tea). While the cook, a man named Sonja who calls himself the mother of the group, starts on dinner, one of the cow owners invites us over to see what his life's food is made of.

For any vegetarians reading along: we'd recommend skipping the next bit. This local culinary masterpiece needs just two ingredients. For the first, we're asked to help out: fresh cow's milk. Both of us tugged away at the tiny udders of these Kenyan cows for what felt like an eternity, but to no avail. We get thoroughly laughed at, and Karel takes a full splash of warm milk to the face when a herder decides to demonstrate how it's really done. Alright, ingredient one is in the cup. Now for the second: fresh cow's blood. There's a special method for this: a rope and a bow and arrow. They find a good vein on the cow and shoot it from close range with a small blade. The blood is caught in a separate cup. Pretty wild to watch.

We first get a sip of it straight, and then this delicacy gets mixed with the fresh milk. Tastes like a combination of whisky and beetroot juice, quite the experience. Karel tries to take a sip but accidentally ends up with a full blood clot in his mouth. The dramatic spitting that follows is the evening's entertainment. After the usual ugali with cabbage (apparently the menu for the next few days), it's time for bed.

We lie there for a bit, thinking about the roughed-up cow. Cows are a status symbol out here (the more cows you have, the cooler you are), so the Samburu would never slaughter one for its meat. Since they spend such long stretches up in the mountains, this is their only steady food source. In return, the cows get to graze freely on the mountain all day and, being their owners' most valuable possession, are treated well. Maybe that's actually a better life than a Dutch cow stuck in a barn?

Today's the first proper hike day! The cow's blood has digested nicely, so we're feeling more energized than ever! Over a weak cup of coffee (they're much more into ridiculously sweet milky tea here, whether that milk also gets mixed with cow's blood remains unknown to us), we watch the morning exodus of cows being led back into the forest by the moran.

Evening light over the valley on our first day in the Ndoto Mountains.

Besides helping carry some of our gear, our friends also pitch and take down the tent for us. We can tell you: drinking a weak cup of coffee amid the cow dung while other people put up your tent for you is a feeling of luxury that's hard to top. Which is exactly the business they're going for: being a walking hotel. We leave our cow spot behind, but pretty soon we're setting our packs back down. Since we've got all the time in the world today, we take a "little detour" to have a dip at Elephant Bedroom.

Sonja, our cook, who despite very much being a man is also very much named Sonja, later explains aptly that in Africa, 1 metre is 10 metres everywhere else. This "little detour" turns out to be a good half hour straight uphill. Luckily the spot is worth it, and we get assigned our own private pool, while our guides bathe one level up. Nothing quite as refreshing as diving into a mountain stream. Finding out afterwards that our guides were bathing in the pool above us at the same time as the cows makes it slightly less refreshing.

Showered and cooled down, we head back to our stuff and land right in it, Sonja's made brunch! Lentils with rice, simple and hearty. The portion we're served is once again unbelievable, a plate that could feed 3 grown men, but our Kenyan companions shovel it down by hand like it's nothing. It's hot today, properly uphill, and at some point Leanne wonders what exactly she paid for this trip for again. Luckily the views remind her pretty quickly why she paid for this trip.

It's breathtaking, once again. Though not so breathtaking that Karel can't fit in a nap, that has to happen too, view or no view. Back at camp we get treated to a real delicacy: spaghetti with boiled cabbage. Surprisingly good, Karel even finishes his 3-man-sized plate! The longer we're on the road with these guys, the more the joking around ramps up. Funny how humour works the same in every language. From the moment Karel trips, falls, and turns it into push-ups, the floodgates open. Jokes will be made!

We chat a bit more with John (32), head of the Ndoto Mountains conservancy, and learn plenty more. Turns out John has camels, goats and cows, is from the Samburu tribe (same as all our guides, porters and rangers), studied finance and economics (he also speaks the best English of the bunch), and once ended up back at school during his moran days because his calves wandered onto the schoolyard, and picking them up, he decided school looked kind of interesting after all. Another fun fact: he's only got 1 wife so far! John's open to women from all directions. Let us know if you're interested, happy to make an introduction.

We wake up today to a sunrise. A stunning sight from the mountain ridge where we're camped. This is 100% the most beautiful spot we've ever camped at.

Sunrise over the ridge: the most beautiful campsite of the trip.

A very long walk is on the programme today. The distances and elevation gain around here don't mess about. Yesterday we climbed about 1200 metres, and today's an even bigger stretch, topped off with 3 hours of steep uphill in a row. And that's without breakfast, and hopefully with lunch. As you can tell, we're starting to adapt to the Samburu way of doing things.

Karel's already put on his Samburu robe, apparently a hilarious sight to most people here. A photo gets taken pretty quickly. Our guides know every plant and tree and call the forest "the hospital of the mountains." There's a remedy here for every ailment: sore throat, headache, joint pain, even something for when you're on your deathbed. There's a cactus tree they call the "last chance tree." If you're nearly done for and eat its roots, it can go either way, either you make a stunning recovery, or you actually do kick the bucket. Magic.

There are also plenty of "hostile" plants that protect themselves by stinging, burning, or being poisonous. So Karel puts on the same long-sleeved shirt for the 5th time in a row, nice and crispy and crumpled. Good thing grandma's not here, she'd have had something to say about it. You can tell it's a long day: Leanne's got a nasty wound on her hand, lovingly bandaged by Richard (a bald guy in a bright orange shirt), Karel tweaks his ankle and less than a minute later gets his foot massaged by Lamagaz (an enormously tall guy with a big gun and a tiny Arsenal bag). It works instantly, pain gone!

Pointing out the next ridge on today's very long walk.

Today we walk partly through blazing heat (the whole crew's been briefed by now on Leanne's heat issues, so every now and then someone throws water over her) and partly through forest near the top of the mountain. Shade at last! We're literally walking elephant trails. These paths are made by elephants moving through these forests, which is baffling, because the paths are incredibly steep and narrow (so steep in some spots that elephants apparently slide down them on their bums).

Our guides can tell exactly how old every pile of elephant dung we pass is. At one point we spot some very fresh footprints and droppings, so two rangers head on ahead to avoid an unfortunate encounter with elephants. Sounds like it'd actually be fun to us, but we're told it's really not. Elephants around here value their privacy. We settle for the sounds and the tracks instead.

This time we camp deep in the primal forest, next to trees we've never seen before. The ground is fairly uneven, so Karel takes another dramatic tumble off his chair. The whole camp comes running, first to laugh, then to build the sturdiest chair setup ever assembled. Karel will be sitting securely tonight. Then a fire gets going for cooking. Cabbage and lentils are on the menu again. This time with spaghetti, which Sonja snaps into little pieces with real precision. Somewhere an Italian heart is breaking, but it does make it easier to eat.

While we wait for dinner, the guys break into quite a bit of singing. Classic waiting-for-dinner songs. Out of nowhere, a full-on choir forms, not bad at all. Karel manages (with some effort) to finish his plate for the third time in a row, which, given these portions, is a genuine achievement. He's got a reputation to uphold after that spectacular fall earlier, after all. Sonja's proud, so we can head to bed feeling good. Tomorrow Karel will probably get an even bigger portion...

We wake up today as Karel and Leanne, and go to bed as Loitemu and Naitoti. Wondering how that happened so fast? Read on.

We wake up deep in the forest. A steep climb is on today's programme. We have our usual breakfast, a cup of syrupy-sweet milky tea, and then lace up our boots (our new friends slip on their sandals, honestly, all this hiking gear is a bit much...).

Our usual breakfast of syrupy-sweet milky tea before the climb.

Today we walk deep through the forest. It feels like a mix of rainforest and primal forest, and Karel's thrilled because there's moss lit-e-ral-ly e-ve-ry-where (for anyone who didn't already know, Karel is a massive moss lover). We even brush our teeth on the move with the toothbrush-branch, works a treat and saves a bit of time in the morning routine. Since there are plenty of snakes, plants and ants around, Richard's been promoted to our wayfinder. Wherever Richard goes, we go. Fall two metres behind him? He pauses so we can slot back into his footsteps. Someone tries to cut in front? Richard makes sure he's back in the lead in no time. A plant blocking the path? Richard snaps it off and tosses it a metre away. What a man. And he does this for a solid 6 hours straight, all uphill.

This forest is absolutely wild! We see trees we've never laid eyes on before. Everyone's happy and upbeat today, people are skipping and singing, feathers are being collected, sticks are being carved, everyone's in good spirits. And at the end, we've been promised the best view in all of Kenya.

Along the way we stop at a spot we've nicknamed "Moss Temple." You can probably guess: moss everywhere. It's also one of the two highest points in this mountain range. The Samburu faith stays very close to nature, so before leaving the highest point, a thank-you to the nature gods has to happen first. The mountains are thanked for all their fertility.

Moss Temple: one of the two highest points in the range.

Loitemu, the whitest Samburu ever, in full ceremonial dress.

Then it's time for the viewpoint, and it does not disappoint. We're so high up that clouds occasionally drift past below us, and there's no sign of life anywhere in sight. Since this spot means so much to our Samburu friends, we'd arranged beforehand to take portrait photos of everyone. Most of them had been pretty taken with Leanne's camera. We're making sure nice prints get sent back to them, for the wall at home.

Everyone puts on their finest outfit and there's a real buzz in the air: we've made it to the top. After the portraits, Karel wants to grab a photo with Leanne too. And then it happened, ladies and gentlemen: Loitemu and Naitoti were born. Nobody saw it coming (except, apparently, family and friends back in the Netherlands). Is Karel falling? No, he's dropping to one knee! Leanne didn't see it coming for a second, says yes of course, and needs a moment to pull herself back together.

Right as it happens, singing starts drifting down from the mountains. Our Samburu friends have renamed Karel the whitest Samburu ever: Loitemu (which means "provider"). All the feathers, sticks and cloths that had been gathered were for this exact moment. Leanne gets a Samburu name too: Naitoti (meaning "the one who blesses"). What followed is honestly hard to put into words. There was dancing, there was singing, everyone's overjoyed, and some people are trying champagne for the very first time. Best day ever!

The reason we'd come to this viewpoint was for the sunset (and, as it turns out, some other sneaky plans). As the clouds pour over the mountains like waterfalls, we settle onto a big rock and head into the rest of the trip as Loitemu and Naitoti.

During the preparations for this trip, we were promised breathtaking starry skies. So far though, to Karel's frustration, these have been thoroughly ruined every night by the moon, which is full and bright in the sky well before the sun's even properly set. This morning, however, we woke up under a beautiful sky of ants instead. Our camp got raided overnight by a colony of ants. Fully-automatic-weapon-wielding rangers notwithstanding, we were defeated by nature this time: they're honestly everywhere!

Luckily there's one last stronghold of resistance: the inside of our inner tent. Thousands of ants are crawling all over the outside of it. Doesn't sound great, but at Theo's tent they made it inside too, ants in front of your eyes really is better than ants on your eyes. After hatching a plan for getting our stuff out of the tent without any ants tagging along, Karel quickly pulls his trousers on. Once at the campfire, those trousers come straight back off again, because he's getting bitten everywhere by ants. Plan failed, then. Together with Kambit, the ants get picked one by one off his legs and trousers and squished, after which the trousers go back on.

"Paths" isn't really the word for it. We mostly follow elephant tracks and fresh droppings, though those animals leave surprisingly narrow, small tracks for how big they are. After 5 days without a shower, not everyone's smelling too fresh anymore. Luckily the forest has a fix for that too: perfume the rangers pull straight from the bark. Smells a bit like honey/pine/cardamom. So we walk through the bush smelling fresh, and it's just straight downhill. Good thing we've got walking sticks. And Richard.

We take one big break among the cows, where Leanne and Karel get a lesson from Sonja (which, turns out, is also a Samburu name, meaning "fat meat," pretty ironic for this skinny guy) on how to make his cabbage at home too. While the rice cooks, Karel bathes with the Samburu men and a bunch of cows, while Leanne enjoys a lovely nap. While bathing, Karel learns that the Samburu divide their month based on when the moon rises, but still count 28 days, and that we're currently in the part of the month where the moon rises later and later each day. So maybe, just maybe...?!

We descend further and, after one last steep, rocky stretch, reach the valley. Today we've walked from primal forest, to bush, to a near-desert landscape, so we've seen a lot once again. With tired feet we climb into the truck and drive back to camp. Before we get there though, there's one more thing we need to do... Disclaimer: vegetarians among you might want to skip ahead. A goat needs to be bought. To celebrate making it through and to thank the crew, we're treating the group to nyama choma. We're too white for this (it drives the price up), but John comes back with a nice fat animal.

Once at camp, the goat is laid down and its throat expertly cut, after which the blood is collected and drunk warm. Naturally, Karel can't let this delicacy pass him by. Every part of the goat gets used: the meat, head and kidneys roasted, the rest of the organs fried. It's a lot of gnawing, breaking and tearing, but we don't often get to eat it this fresh. As guests, we're given the best cuts, alongside the boss. Leanne finds it fairly uncomfortable, but John makes clear that's just how it's done here. Karel tucks in with great enjoyment.

By now it's pitch dark, and guess what? For the first few hours, not a moon in sight, so the mattresses get laid out outside (where we'll also be sleeping) and some serious stargazing happens. What a day.

Thank you: Zido, Ouzen, Pacia, Elijah, Laparsanti, Lamagaz, Joseph, David, Richard, Kambit, Sonja, Michael, and John: our crew for these unforgettable days in the Ndoto Mountains.

You'd think we'd need a bit of time to recover from all our adventures? Well, apparently not. We're up at 06.00 because today's another long day. We're heading northwest, where tonight we'll make a stopover at Malaso Viewpoint (so it's viewpoint to viewpoint for us, luckily that never gets old). Since we've had such a great time with John and his crew these past few days, John's tagging along for one more day: "We're friends now."

After a primitive shower (cold water in a bucket), the four of us pile into the car and we're back on the road! Pretty soon we drive past the village where John grew up. His grandmother, mother and a number of brothers and sisters (quite a few of them, actually, since his father has 6 wives) still live there. He lives in a village further on now, but would love to move back eventually. He asks if we're up for trying some camel milk? Of course!

We turn left and pay a visit to his childhood home. We're warmly welcomed by John's grandmother, a hilarious woman with mischievous little eyes. We also meet John's mother and brother, and take a stroll around the property: there are 3 houses and a whole lot of camels. Those camels in particular kick up quite a racket. One gets milked in no time and the tea gets going. First up, some fresh camel milk. It tastes really distinctive, smoky, and nothing at all like milk.

Grandma gives Karel a challenging look and asks if we'd also like to try sour camel milk. You're testing us now, grandma... Of course! Grandma disappears into her hut and comes back with an enormous cup. This milk has simply been sitting in the hut fermenting for a few weeks, and now it's all ours. We all take a sip and it's honestly not bad. A sort of smoky drinking yoghurt. Grandma's approving look puts us at ease.

After tea we drive on. Along the way Karel finds himself face to face with a warthog once more: a dream come true. If Karel were a wild animal, he says, he'd definitely be a warthog: "just minding my own business, tail in the wind, running around." John would rather be a lion, but keeps repeating Karel's warthog dream every few minutes and can't stop laughing about it.

We make a quick stop in Maralal, one of the bigger towns around here. We drive past enormous business centres and tech solution engineers. We have lunch at John's favourite restaurant, which has a seriously extensive menu. Karel orders the Maryland Chicken, something even John's never heard of. This leads, once again, to much hilarity, and later, unfortunately, to some stomach trouble too.

At the restaurant a few calls get made to check on the situation in Malaso. It sits right on the border between two tribes: the Samburu and the Pokot. Luckily, the fighting along that border is happening somewhere else entirely: we're good to go! We arrive at Malaso Viewpoint fairly late. Yet again, a completely different kind of view: green and damp. Leanne makes a new friend: Lele. An 80-plus-year-old man wandering the grass with a spear. He chats away happily with us until he has to go milk his cows, that has to happen too, of course.

Sunbeams breaking through over Malaso: green and damp, a totally different Kenya.

Tonight we head to bed early. A bit of time to recover after all, thankfully.

Tonight we sleep in an actual bed for the first time in ages, but apparently we're just not built for it anymore. Or does our somewhat broken night have more to do with the fact that two slats are missing, so you basically sleep in a pothole? On top of that, Karel's having some stomach trouble. On his second toilet visit, he drops the toilet roll down the toilet. You'd think you'd just fish it back out, but that's tricky when the toilet is an 8-metre-deep hole. The rest of the night, Karel's improvising.

In the morning Leanne stays in bed a while longer while the guys do a short hike to the viewpoint. After 5 days of hiking, a 2-hour walk suddenly feels almost nothing, but it's a nice warm-up and the view is worth it, once again. Today we move on to Lake Baringo, where we're staying on the island of love (pronounced the island of looooove).

Sunset over Lake Baringo, on the way to the island of loooove.

It's a long drive, roads alternating between asphalt (full of potholes) and sand with rocks. We stop somewhere for a soda. Here you always get asked whether you want it cold. Uh, yes? John explains that he often drinks soda lukewarm, otherwise he gets too cold on the inside. Makes him feel like he needs to rush straight back into the sun. Strange bunch, these Samburu. John's enjoying his muzungu life so much, by the way, and we're having such a good time with him, that he ends up tagging along to our last stop too. What a treat!

Once we arrive at the lake we meet Ruben, our new guide. Ruben really wants to get everything right, which sometimes makes him come across a bit forced. We're promised all sorts of stories, and any questions we have get deflected with "that's a story for tomorrow / around the campfire." As you can imagine, this stokes our curiosity enormously.

The lake is famous for its birds, and during the boat ride toward the island we quickly see why. We spot several kingfishers skimming over the water, hovering above it (the Baringo helicopter), and then diving straight in. A few even hover past while we're swimming. John's fully embraced the tourist life, and where we once had the white moran, John has now transformed into a black muzungu (a black white person). He's clearly loving the boat ride (he's only been near water this big once before) and happily jumps in for a swim with us. Only problem: he can't swim. We try to teach him a bit, breaststroke doesn't really land, but freestyle works up to a point. Our advice to him is to keep his life vest firmly on once we get back in the boat.

Now, finally, the story of the island of looooove. We'd already heard beforehand that the island belongs to a man with 7, no wait, 27 wives (the number kept climbing throughout the trip). Here on the island we get to meet several of the man's descendants. Sadly he passed away last year at the age of 115, far too young if you ask us. He leaves behind 5 wives and 27 children. Could've been worse, we suppose.

Today Ruben's promised us a day that'll be "fun, fun, fun"... Well, we'll be the judge of that. We start the day with a sunrise and a pancake breakfast, Ruben seems to be pulling out all the stops, because this is a strong start. John (renamed Jan by us) is now drinking his coffee black, no sugar, like a real muzungu. It's only half a hit, though: "ooh, very bitter."

This morning we first go looking for hippos, then it's on to the iconic fish eagle feeding ("you must do the iconic fish eagle feeding" (Ruben, 2026). "I don't have to do anything!" (Karel, always)), then into a conservancy for a walking safari. Fun! The eagles are so well-conditioned by now that at one whistle from the cockswain, they swing their gaze toward the lake and eagerly swoop down on the fresh fish that's just been tossed in.

The hippos get spotted too. Jan (who's also never seen a hippo before) has had a sore throat this whole trip, and Karel's convinced that licking a hippo must be good for the throat. Ruben strongly advises against it though, so Jan stays put in the boat, disappointed and still sore-throated. Our walking safari is mainly focused on finding giraffe, since this area has the rare Rothschild's giraffe. There should be plenty of zebra too, but they're keeping well hidden. Turns out a pride of lions has moved into the conservancy, so all the animals are a bit on edge. Except the warthogs, who, much to Karel's delight, don't seem bothered in the slightest: even with a half-eaten warthog carcass lying nearby as a pretty clear sign they should take these lions seriously.

On the way to the island of love we pick up an enormous, freshly caught catfish somewhere: lunch! Benson, today's cook, serves it up with traditional brown ugali, a sticky brown version that's really tasty. Jan is Samburu; the people living around this lake are the Ilchamus. They descend from the Samburu, the only real difference being that the Ilchamus also fish. So Jan almost never eats fish, but he tucks into this meal just as happily.

Meanwhile another one of Karel's wishes comes true: Ruben's arranged a Moran knife for him! The white Samburu has himself another essential accessory! Jan explains how it's supposed to be used, but when it comes to the real deal, a sizeable branch needs chopping, he'd rather hold the knife himself. Apparently Loitemu still has a lot to learn before he's allowed to take on this kind of work. The knife does get strapped straight onto his belt though, since we're moving on to the next activity: a traditional dance. It all feels a bit thrown together on the fly, and we end up being just as much of an attraction as the dance itself. Since the only real difference between the Ilchamus and the Samburu is the fishing, Jan joins in the dance effortlessly. They've never seen a muzungu get into it like this before! Fun, fun, fun!

There's also a resort on the island of love: the Teddy Bear Resort. Apparently there's a toilet with a phenomenal view, so obviously we need to go check that out too. Karel wants to do the nature hike (instead of taking the boat), hoping to run into a Monitor Lizard (a giant blue-yellow lizard) again, but the only thing that ends up running into something is Leanne. On the way there, a branch smacks her nastily in the head. Once the wound's patched up (thanks to the desert rose), Leanne's recovered a bit, and Jan's had his next swimming lesson, we head back. Within 5 minutes Leanne walks into another branch and grabs onto an acacia tree to steady herself. Given its enormous thorns, that's really not the move... Cursing, Leanne walks the last stretch back. Not so fun.

Our 12-day trip with Theo has come to an end. But no need to mourn, we've still got a week left to keep celebrating (which, by now, we could really use). We leave the Island of Loooove by boat, cruising past all kinds of luxury resorts with lovely views over Lake Baringo. A little too lovely, actually, since they're now standing almost completely underwater. The lake's water level has risen substantially over the past few years, swallowing up more land every year. The island's residents keep moving further uphill. Resorts that once drew plenty of tourists now mostly attract hippos and crocodiles.

A pretty dystopian sight. It does explain why, once again, we haven't run into a single tourist. Great for us, less great for the people who live here. Lake Baringo was once a beloved holiday destination and has since become a bit of a faded glory. Luckily, the scenery is still every bit as beautiful.

Then it's time to start the journey back to Nairobi. We make one more short stop in Nakuru, Kenya's fourth-largest city. We have lunch in an empty club and drop John off. He's still got a long journey home ahead of him: taxi, bus, matatu. A few hours later we arrive back in Nairobi. We're warmly welcomed by Bram and Morganne, step out of the car, and find John's phone. Oh no: we've dumped him in some random town without a phone, without money, without anything. With a knot in our stomachs, we take our first hot shower in a long while. Medium delightful.

To forget the knot in our stomachs, and to celebrate our engagement (omg!), we polish off a bottle of champagne and decide to really go for it in Nairobi. We've booked a table at a good restaurant, where we work our way through an eight-course flight of Kenyan cuisine. The portions are a lot smaller than the plates of cabbage Sonja used to serve us, but our taste buds are wide awake again. As the icing on the cake, the restaurant sends us off with gifts too: African tea for Leanne (jackpot) and a random Kenyan walking stick for Karel (also jackpot). These Kenyans really know how to celebrate an engagement.