You know, superlatives

A little while ago I was walking home from work when I came across a colobus monkey sitting on the sidewalk a few blocks from my apartment.  And the first thought to cross my mind was not: Wow, a monkey!, as you might expect, but rather: Wow, what nice sidewalks!  

You see, well-paved, pothole-free sidewalks that don't have cars driving on them are more rare than monkeys.  Especially around my house, where the roads had almost necessitated 4-wheel-drive when I first moved here in 2011.  I never really knew how exciting fresh asphalt could be.  

Sure, I'd probably point out a monkey on the sidewalk to a friend, but no tears would be shed if it ran away before she got to see it.  Kind of like a brightly plumaged blue-jay in the back yard.  You might say, hey, come look at this nice bird, but there wouldn't be any urgency to the suggestion.  

But it's still not every day that you see a senior scaling the columns of her house to hand-feed them bananas.  That's still special.   

And that's what we saw when we drove out to Limuru to spend an afternoon at the Kiambethu Tea Farm.  Tea, like flowers, is one of Kenya's biggest exports.  Whenever my boss visits Kenya, he's conscripted to return home to Vietnam with bundles of tea for his family and Kenyan friends.  Wikipedia even says that Kenya is "the leading producer of the best black tea in the word," and that "Kenyan tea [is] the most sought after beverage in the world."  So, you know, superlatives.  And internet.  

Kiambethu apparently used to be one of the largest tea farms in Kenya, but has been pared down and sold away through the course of generations.  It's still operational, but only in small quantities.  They generate additional revenue by hosting tours and luncheons on their grounds.  

Kiambethu house

Tree tomatoes growing in the gardens

The afternoon begins with tea and biscuits (naturally), served with fine silver.  Then everyone sits around a warm living room, passing around fresh tea leaves and examining different sizes and textures of dried tea and and tea dust.  

Good tea, mediocre biscuits

Six shades of tea dust

After that, everyone goes outside to look at the monkeys for a while.  Then they look at the lady (granddaughter of the original farm owner) breaking bread (bananas) with said monkeys.  

Babies!

Then there's some walking around the tea farm, lookin at geese, and exploring a swath of indigenous forest before returning back to the house for a home-cooked lunch in the garden.   

Tea grows in Kenya

Twisty trees

Garden lunch

So what's the final verdict?  If you're interested in tea and looking for an easy day-trip outside of Nairobi, Kiambethu Tea Farm is a solid option.  However, not recommended quite as highly as an afternoon at Brown's Cheese Farm, also in Limuru.  While tea and cheese are both delicious, the house and grounds at Brown's are a bit more lovely, and they're a bit less stingy with their wine.  

Perhaps it's time

The city of Nairobi (and by extension I think I can safely assume the entire country of Kenya) has run out of Nutella.  

That's right.  It's a country completely dry of delicious chocolate-hazelnut spread.  

Perhaps it's time to start thinking about leaving.

Off to more chocolately pastures! 

(Incidentally, I think that's the Ngong Hills we're flying over)

To do anything

If I've learned anything from living in Kenya, I'd venture to say that I've learned more about living than about Kenya.  I'm still woefully ignorant of the policies of Uhuruto (though with the oblique explanations I maintain that's not 100% my fault), but I finally know the utility of 4x4 vehicles in this world.

And I know how it feels to maximize time: to experience each day as an adventure and each weekend as a vacation.  Saturday and Sunday never used to feel like enough time to do everything; now there's enough time to do anything.

(Then again, I'm no longer a student.)

After hiking the Ngong Hills the other week, we continued up the Rift to spend a night at a house on Champagne Ridge.  It was a funky-looking place... deep rust stucco and stained glass windows, perched high on the cliffs above the valley.  Not terribly unlike the Flintstone House that I used to pass daily on my high-school commute.

Hippy Home

No one else for miles (ahem... kilometers)

The drive was supposed to take just about an hour, which is probably close to accurate in the dry season.  But in April, with a flat tire, a loose exhaust tank, and several bouts of getting stuck in the mud, it was closer to 4 hours.  

Which might have generally put a damper on a one-night get-away, but what it really meant was that we arrived just in time for sundowners on the porch.

Room with a view

Feet up

And after kicking up our socked feet for a while, we decided to do some dusky exploring on the cliffs, finding a hidden waterfall and watching the sun drop into the valley.  

And when it became dark, we returned to the house to cook dinner, light a fire, and do a bit of star-gazing.  

In the morning, before we packed up for the multi-hour drive back to Nairobi, we breakfasted on the porch.  Even without liking bacon, I'm in love with this scene: 

Dog watches bacon being cooked on porch overlooking Rift Valley.  

Of course, like with the road up, one never really knows exactly what you'll get when renting houses off of a website like this.  The place was absolutely lovely- windows overlooking the valley in every room, including the bathrooms.  But the owners did have some unorthodox decorating schemes.  Beyond the Dali-esque dripping stained glass and tabletop lizard mosaics, they also had several large boulders placed around the house.  And not in corners, but right in the middle of high-traffic rooms.   

Walk walk walk Rock

But if stubbed toes and flat tires are the price of admission, the ride seems well worth the ticket.

The devilish details

The devil's in the details, they say.  And those details aren't always well-suited to being captured on film.

The Ngong Hills, just outside Nairobi, mark the imprint of where a giant god grabbed the earth to stabilize himself after tripping over Mt. Kilimanjaro, according to one version of Masai legend.  That's why the top four peaks form the shape of knuckles ("ngong").

The hills have long lived in Masai legend but grew in international recognition after Karen Blixen praised them in Out of Africa.  Today, they are popular with day-trip hikers from Nairobi and the bandits that try to mug them.  (Incidentally, hire a guide from the park gates when you go).

View of the Ngong Hills from Karen Blixen's house

The hike is deceptively challenging from what one might expect of these gently rolling hills.  But that's really the issue- hills, plural.  There may be only four peaks that constitute the knuckles, but there are somewhere around nine hills in total, of varying lengths and grades.

Traversing the knuckles

Hills beyond hills

One of the highlights of the hike, if undertaken on a less foggy day, is the great views of both the Rift Valley and Nairobi.  The juxtaposition of the natural and the urban.  

Background: the buildings of Nairobi

So what's the rest of the story?  The devilish details, if you will?

ANTS IN MY PANTS! 

Safari ants combine the colony-style workmanship of regular ants with the savage blood-sucking lust of vampires.  And they were all up in my pants.  And socks, and shoes.  And you don't really notice until it's too late and they're swarming all over.  There may be some kind of strategy for ridding yourself of them, but in the absence of removing my pants completely and jumping into a large body of water, I had to hop on one leg while two French and Ethiopian girls fearlessly plucked them off.  And then completed the hike with paranoia threshold set to RED, periodically slapping myself at every twitch or prick that could potentially be a critter.  

And what was the reason I ended up standing on this ant-hill of death and destruction?  

Because our path was blocked by a dead cow (also not pictured) and we had to re-orient.

All in another fun-filled day in Kenya.

Tucked away

As with any large cosmopolitan city, some of the best spots in Nairobi are tucked away in un-advertised corners.  

Kuona ("To see" in Kiswahili)

Kuona Trust is a spot I've been meaning to visit for quite some time, but had been operating under the mis-impression that it was closed on weekends (it is not).  Kuona is something of an artists' cooperative, where painters and sculptors convert used shipping containers of corrugated tin into brightly lit studios, lining the perimeter of a grassy courtyard.  

  

Shipping containers

There are 2 somethings inverted here...

Larger than life

When the artists are at work in their studio, they leave the door open for visitors to wander in and out, to view or purchase finished pieces, and to admire works in progress.  An everlasting open house.  

Discordant couple

Studio

The trust was quiet last Saturday morning, when I finally arranged the time to wander over with a friend.  We loitered around the courtyard for a while, watching the sculptures loiter in turn.  I asked a man sitting in a plastic chair amongst some of the installations if he was the artist, but he loitering as well- relaxing on a cool sunny morning in the presence of art.  

We finally rounded on a studio where the artist was inside, contemplating his work for the day.  He lit up when we came, happy to discuss his paintings, and invited us to make a print with him.  No charge for the wood, the ink, the paper, or his time.  

And thereby, about 5 hours later when the sunny morning had grown into a late-afternoon with threatening clouds, the three of us gazed upon our authentic prints, hanging in an artists' studio.  

Sketching the first draft

Inking some giraffes

My final prints

Kindly note that none of the pictures of artwork posted here are permitted for copy or resale (including my own!  But more importantly those of the professional artists).

Mount Kenya: Days 4 & 5 (something rather special)

Day 4

I would have expected that the day after our sunrise summit we'd be able to sleep in a bit, but we're up at 5:30am, in the dark, to get on the trail by 6:30am and avoid the afternoon rain.  But given that we had spent the entire previous afternoon ensconced in sleeping bags, it's not that bad.  

Moreover, the view from the breakfast table is something rather special.

Breakfast

The sun is up by the time we pack up and leave the lodge.  Still impressed with our previous day's achievement  we take loads of pictures before leaving the mountain, probably for good.  

Hyrax in motion (foreground)

There are a bunch (a herd? a pride? a flock) of hyrax (hyraxen?) eating our breakfast scraps outside the lodge.  Oh, that's right- I may not have properly introduced you to the hyrax yet.  The hyrax is an animal about the size of a small rabbit and looks like a cross between a gopher and a bear.  Their interests include running around, yipping, sitting on tall rocks, and eating scraps.  We decided that their community most likely follows a kingdom format with a royal family: King Harry the Hyrax.  It's not widely known, but all human-folk passing through their lands actually need the permission of King Harry, who sends messengers (or henchmen or servants or something) out to give the formal OK.  It's kind of like Downton Abbey.  With hyraxen.

The birth of this story took the better part of an hour and is looking forward to adaption as an illustrated children's book one of these days. 

As a completely unrelated comment- You really notice how few important things you have to say when you're away from external stimulation for multiple days.  

King Harry's henchman

But we eventually manage to say goodbye and we're off again.

Walking is so easy!  I'm hardly sore and I feel like I could do this forever!  I finally understand the Forrest Gump types that walk/run coast-to-coast for no apparent reason.  Maybe I should do that- just walk forever.  Then it occurs to me that I'm probably benefiting from the consistent downhill grade and the fact that a porter is carrying my pack.  I probably wouldn't want to do this forever... but in the moment it's delightful!

Summits behind us

Going down

With the climax behind us and several days of walking still before us, our minds and conversation wander.  Allison explains the plot of M. Night Shyamalan's The Village to me.  She refreshes me on the plot of the Labyrinth  and comments that David Bowie's obsession with a very young girl is somewhat disturbing.  I see her creepy-factor and raise her by the Twilight werewolf-in-love-with-an-infant scenario.  

Oh no.  I have inadvertently admitted to watching the Twilight movies.

I give a proper explanation for why I have watched the Twilight movies (stuck in the Kenyan desert without power, internet, or clean clothes, but a laptop full of borrowed movies).  

I give a full summary of the Twilight movies.  

We move on to summarizing plots and discussing the merits of good Young Adult fiction books, such as The Giver.  

We're quiet for a while, and I notice that this is probably the longest I've ever gone without wearing earrings since I was 16.  I think that I probably shouldn't blog that thought because it will raze any outdoorsy mountaineering credibility I've built with the previous 3 days.  Then I think that it's the 21st century and I can have it all... Earings and mountains... Lean in!  Or something!  I try to remember the criticisms of Sheryl Sandburg and thing that it has something to do with her being very rich.  If I were very rich I'd write a book about it too.  And put some secret passages in my custom-built house.  Wait, what was the question again?  I was a little bit dreaming...

Walking consecutive days sure gives you plenty of time to listen to your unrelenting mental chatter.

"Why did all Receivers in The Giver have to have blue eyes?"

By now we've reached the "Vertical Bog."  Which is a name I didn't make up for a stretch of the Naro Maru trail, where "trail" really means "bigmudswamp on an incline."  Necessitating the use of Very Fashionable gaters to protect pants and shoes.  Ok, perhaps they're not completely necessary, but I paid to rent them for 5 days, so...

Gaters in the vertical bog, which looks a bit horizontal right now but is probably at a good 25 degree angle in real life.  So... still not vertical but more diagonal.

We exit the vertical bog and enter a rainforest.  Of the comparisons I've heard between hiking Mt. Kenya and Mt. Kilimanjaro, it's almost universally (anecdotally) accepted that the Mt. Kenya hike is more beautiful because of its oft-changing terrain.  

Dwarfed by rainforest giants

Purple.

The air is fresh, clean, and cool.  We're small among the giant trees, snug in moss.  Flowers are springing up around us, purple, white, pink and yellow.  They're unassuming, not gaudy displays, just enjoying the shade like everyone else.

And we reach our next cabin minutes, nay- moments, before the buckets of rain started falling down.  Which was a combination of good luck and good planning, but the luck was tempered by the fact that the latrines were, again, outdoors.

Then it was inside for another afternoon of tea, food, more food, more tea, wait-I-shouldn't-drink-more-tea-because-the-latrines-are-outside-and-its-pouring-rain, OK... more tea, fun-sized snickers bars, reading, sleeping bags, sweatpants, and sleep.

Cabin in the Mt. Kenya rainforest

Day 5

Up early... surprise!  

It's going to be a short walk back to the park gates.  Maybe just three hours or so.  We spend extra time in the morning taking pictures.  

The rafiki monkeys outside the cabin door

The team

Then, as usual, we pack up, head off, hike for some hours, and arrive at the destination.  This time, the end. 

Mount Kenya: Day 3 (stars, stars, and)

It's 3am, and I'm standing in the middle of nowhere, on a mountain, bundled in a hat, ski gloves, waterproof pants, and general snow gear.  

It's time to start hiking the summit of Mt. Kenya.  

We've already been awake for an hour, packing, dressing, and taking tea with breakfast biscuits.  I'm navigating a slight headache from my one single hour of sleep (drinking cup after cup of black tea to stay warm the night before a 2am wake-up was probably a mistake).  One of our hiking companions is feeling an irregular heartbeat and will be unable to join us.  I ask our guide what will happen if we begin the hike but are unable to reach the summit (the Plan B, if you will).  And he says, in what I assume is meant to be a re-assuring tone, "You must reach it."

This is not shaping up to be a good day.

We head outside into the night, expecting chilly gloom and threatening rain-fog like the day before, but find the sky to be crystal clear.  Stars, stars, and a nearly-full moon light our way, and we start the night climb without any help from the headlamps.  

Away we go

It is exhilarating.   My headache is gone, and I feel like skipping up the mountain.  We can see everything.  I see the big dipper.  I see spectacular snowy peaks surrounding us.  As we climb, I look down and see lights of Shipton's camp from whence we came.  It is getting very, very far away.  

In the midst of the greatest great-wide-open I can imagine, as counter-intuitive as it seems, I begin to feel claustrophobic.  It occurs to me the guide is right- we must make it up and over the mountain.  There is no plan B.  We are now several days hike away from any kind of civilization, in all directions. It also occurs to me that the air keeps getting thinner.  No escape and a lack of oxygen = claustrophobia in the world's least confined space.  Now I really feel like we're hiking up Mount Doom.  

We move very slowly, stopping often to catch our breaths.  During longer breaks of 5-10 minutes, our guide lays down on a rock in the freezing cold and takes a cat-nap, complete with contented snoring.  He is more comfortable on this mountain than I will ever understand.  

We reach the snow before long, and eventually we pass a few mirror-like mountain lakes, reflecting the moon.  We keep summiting peaks, only to be told that our destination is just over the next hill.

And, finally, the sun begins to rise.

First golden glimpse

Sunrise over snow

We climb, and the sun climbs with us, and then we all climb some more.

Up and up

And up and up farther

Rosy morning Rift Valley

In front of us, rocks are turning molten red from the morning light, even thought the moon refuses to sleep.

Good morning, Moon.

And eventually, pole pole, we reach Lenana Peak!  At 4,985 meters (16,355 feet), the highest peak you can hike to in Kenya, second highest in Africa (after Kilimanjaro).

Nearly there...

At last!

We eat pre-breakfast on top of the word!  We can see Tanzania!  We are victorious!  We are... nowhere near finished with the hike.  Next comes a two day descent, starting with a scramble down the rocky cliffs using ropes and all four limbs to get down to the next camp.

Step by step

We slip and slide and sort-of-ski all the way down, finished with the day by 11am, just in time for second breakfast.  And back into our sleeping bags by 2:00pm, a mere 12 hours from when we left them.

And just like that, the journey becomes a dream.