Naivasha

This weekend, I found heaven in Hell(s Gate National Park). On a trip organized by our faithful Kiswahili teacher, Francis, the kalamzungus (our newest nickname) headed up to Naivasha last Friday, in a rented matatu, driven by two very friendly but very bored men. The first highlight of the weekend was without a doubt out quick stop along the road, at the crest of the rift valley. The vista was simply gorgeous- a slight mist over a steep cliff, looking out upon a valley punctuated by seemingly random volcanic features. I also had a man offer to trade me the shirt off my back for a paperweight, but I didn’t take him up on that offer.

Soon we found ourselves at our campsite along Lake Naivasha. As a proud Michigander, seeing a lake always makes me feel a little at home, particularly lakes of the sizeable variety. Highlights of the campsite: hanging with a very cool American expat from South Africa (just try and make sense of that statement) and his kiwi aunt, cooking squash over a campfire, and eating far too much peanut butter. Also, Emily (Mattus) & I combined pick and peel tropical mix with other things to produce a great tasting concoction.

When we awoke the next morning at 6:00am, the logic of that concoction was not so sound. Nevertheless, we gathered our wits and trudged to the gate to meet our guides and collect our bikes. See, Hells Gate National Park is remarkable because it is nominally free of predators, so people are free to bike through. So at the ungodly hour of 6:30, we were riding towards the park through the languid dawn, with nary a cloud in the sky. As we biked through town, we also attracted the attention of seemingly every child in the greater Naivasha region, who universally shouted “How are you?” at us (we assume that this is the first English taught in schools (they also have a fascinating and undescribable way of saying it)).

We soon reached the park, and it was utterly gorgeous. The reason we were leaving so early was to avoid crowds, and it worked extremely well- we were essentially the only folks in the park, riding along a dirt path, with Zebra, Wildebeast and Gazelle on every side. We even stepped off the path for a bit to track a giraffe and it’s baby, who were mostly bemused by our presence.

After an ominously downhill ride, we reached the namesake of the park: Hells Gate Gorge. Carved out of the earth by forces beyond my feeble comprehension, it was an awe-inspiring experience, especially because we were once again essentially alone to enjoy it. Wandering through the corridors of the gorge, with the noon sun beating down, enjoying the silence of the gorge, was a pretty astounding experience, as was our view as we lunched along the lip of the gorge, in full view of it’s spread.

The way back was interesting to say the least: the path was mostly uphill, and we were racing the rain. It was a little rough near the end, as we rode about 25 km in  day, along with a 5k hike. After we returned to the camp, we lazed around our site for a bit before splurging on a dinenr at the restaurant. The guacamole bacon cheeseburger I rapidly consumed was pretty much a religious experience.

Anyhow, Naivasha now ranks pretty near the top of my favorite places ever.