Hell’s Gate National Park is in the great Rift Valley region of Kenya, northwest of Nairobi. It’s on the southern border of Lake Naivasha (Maasai for “that which heaves” — a body of water that has waves.) and the town of Naivasha is on the northeastern edge of the lake. Typical of so many African urban areas, the population of the town of Naivasha has grown from 30,000 in 1999 to 90,000 in 2009, to well over over 200,000 today. I rode in a car along with my tour guide from Nairobi, about 90 km (60 miles) on a very heavily trafficked two lane road (see my previous posts #4 & #5). We left about 7 AM and arrived just after 9 AM. The elevation is about 6,000 ft so it was already feeling hot.
The one other participant, Vanessa, a young student who hailed from New Mexico, arrived in another vehicle. She was visiting Kenya for one week, while “studying abroad” for her final semester in bio-chemistry, on a cruise ship turned into a university! They had been all over (Malaysia, India, now Kenya, next Egypt) and had a full slate of classes on the ship amid bits of free time to visit each nation where they made port. She admitted it was challenging to do both but at all of 21 was determined to make the most of it Her goal is to become a pediatrician and maybe one day work for Doctor’s Without Borders. Hard not to admire the ambitious and earnest young folks I’ve encountered.
We quickly were invited to choose our bicycles from a small and rough selection (especially for a tall person). The seat was low and wide, chains were loose, the tires a bit soft, and the brakes barely gripped the rims on full squeeze; essentially we were good to go.
It’s the first time I’ve biked a wildlife park in Kenya. In almost all others visitors are allowed to leave vehicles only in very select picnic areas or at facilities, because there are several species that are literally a threat to humans. Kenya is wise about this aspect of preserving their tourists.
The rugged, hard-pack road winds through dramatically beautiful geologic formations from the entry and throughout the 16 km (10 mile) trip. It was breathtaking and wonderful to experience it at a pace where it slowly unfolded while also allowing one to take in the details. Most of the road was good distance from the cliffs, making it difficult to convey the scale in photos, but like so much in Kenya, nature tends to put humans in our place. A few “pillars” of rock (not sure the precise geologic cause) added intriguing accents. The first one (according to our guide) incorporated into Maasai mythology as what became of the bride who looked back. Patriarchy or not, the lesson being once married one should only face forward. We had the offer to climb this with ropes and a guide, but we both declined in favor of biking.
We were fortunate to get there before the severe midday sun, and so several species of animals were out. The soft crumble of bike tires on the obsidian hardpark mix is far less disturbing to them than vehicles, so it was fun to find our selves up close to Zebra, Giraffe, Wildebeest, Thomson’s Gazelle, and Pumbaas. Pumbaa is what the Maasai call wart hogs, which means “foolish, silly or dumb”, so named because “they run for 60 seconds and then forget why they were running.” Like so many in this park, they are robust in form because there are no longer any large predators. I read one source that stated buffalo and baboons were in the park but we didn’t encounter any.
Several species of birds mostly soared in the bright blue skies or landed off in the distance. A special moment was when we suddenly came upon a large falcon perched on the low mound bordering the road. It stared at us quizzically for five seconds, even as Vanessa and I screeched our bikes to a dusty stop. I scrambled to get out my cell phone but it flew off just as I did. We’d been within ten feet of a wild peregrine falcon!
The one other participant, Vanessa, a young student who hailed from New Mexico, arrived in another vehicle. She was visiting Kenya for one week, while “studying abroad” for her final semester in bio-chemistry, on a cruise ship turned into a university! They had been all over (Malaysia, India, now Kenya, next Egypt) and had a full slate of classes on the ship amid bits of free time to visit each nation where they made port. She admitted it was challenging to do both but at all of 21 was determined to make the most of it Her goal is to become a pediatrician and maybe one day work for Doctor’s Without Borders. Hard not to admire the ambitious and earnest young folks I’ve encountered.
We quickly were invited to choose our bicycles from a small and rough selection (especially for a tall person). The seat was low and wide, chains were loose, the tires a bit soft, and the brakes barely gripped the rims on full squeeze; essentially we were good to go.
It’s the first time I’ve biked a wildlife park in Kenya. In almost all others visitors are allowed to leave vehicles only in very select picnic areas or at facilities, because there are several species that are literally a threat to humans. Kenya is wise about this aspect of preserving their tourists.
The rugged, hard-pack road winds through dramatically beautiful geologic formations from the entry and throughout the 16 km (10 mile) trip. It was breathtaking and wonderful to experience it at a pace where it slowly unfolded while also allowing one to take in the details. Most of the road was good distance from the cliffs, making it difficult to convey the scale in photos, but like so much in Kenya, nature tends to put humans in our place. A few “pillars” of rock (not sure the precise geologic cause) added intriguing accents. The first one (according to our guide) incorporated into Maasai mythology as what became of the bride who looked back. Patriarchy or not, the lesson being once married one should only face forward. We had the offer to climb this with ropes and a guide, but we both declined in favor of biking.
We were fortunate to get there before the severe midday sun, and so several species of animals were out. The soft crumble of bike tires on the obsidian hardpark mix is far less disturbing to them than vehicles, so it was fun to find our selves up close to Zebra, Giraffe, Wildebeest, Thomson’s Gazelle, and Pumbaas. Pumbaa is what the Maasai call wart hogs, which means “foolish, silly or dumb”, so named because “they run for 60 seconds and then forget why they were running.” Like so many in this park, they are robust in form because there are no longer any large predators. I read one source that stated buffalo and baboons were in the park but we didn’t encounter any.
Several species of birds mostly soared in the bright blue skies or landed off in the distance. A special moment was when we suddenly came upon a large falcon perched on the low mound bordering the road. It stared at us quizzically for five seconds, even as Vanessa and I screeched our bikes to a dusty stop. I scrambled to get out my cell phone but it flew off just as I did. We’d been within ten feet of a wild peregrine falcon!
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[Left] One of the many hot springs pouring out of the upper cliffs into the gorge below.
[Right] the weather-carved hand and foot grips near the top of “Pride Rock.”
[Right] the weather-carved hand and foot grips near the top of “Pride Rock.”
The aim of our route was to reach Hell’s Gate, a ravine bordered by steep canyon walls, that features a hot spring-fed creek. Of course the Maasai and other people throughout time made use of the soothing healing effects of the sulphur water. The road was often rough but navigable, and as we reached the gorge we disembarked and bilked about 1 mile to the cliff edge. It was cool touch the water pouring out of a spring at our level and feel the 100°+ water.
The gorge was lined on both sides with scrubby trees and seemed as if it would require a carefully established path along a perilous descent. Regrettably, we were not able to do the full hike in to the gorge where the springs coalesce into the waterway, because there had been recent incidents of drownings from flash floods — very likely related to the changing climate conditions that were having an impact elsewhere in Kenya.
We did reach a prominent ledge, claimed as the “inspiration for Pride Rock where Musaka used to hang out in the Lion King. I could appreciate his choice of views as the seemingly endless vista was wonderful.
The gorge was lined on both sides with scrubby trees and seemed as if it would require a carefully established path along a perilous descent. Regrettably, we were not able to do the full hike in to the gorge where the springs coalesce into the waterway, because there had been recent incidents of drownings from flash floods — very likely related to the changing climate conditions that were having an impact elsewhere in Kenya.
We did reach a prominent ledge, claimed as the “inspiration for Pride Rock where Musaka used to hang out in the Lion King. I could appreciate his choice of views as the seemingly endless vista was wonderful.
A large segment of cliffs amid a mile long (100-150 ft high?) ridge was known as white rock region. From a distance it appeared the familiar clay orange tones in this one section included an irregular swath of a very different white-colored rock. It turns out the vast section was a Vulture Bank — for unkown reasons this particular expanse was where they chose to make deposits of their feces.
The sun and heat had begun to wear us out as we looped back to the entry point. It was a unique and fun excursion. We followed this with a boat ride on Lake Naivasha. Local fisherman were busy with individual lines or hauling or setting nets. The shore abounded with all manner of water birds, mostly hanging out on dead tree trunks near shore, commingling with submerged hippos, and other animals coming to the lake for refreshments. Vanessa and I enjoyed a nice lunch in the shady outdoor cafe as our guide and driver gathered in their chosen spot with their colleagues.
The sun and heat had begun to wear us out as we looped back to the entry point. It was a unique and fun excursion. We followed this with a boat ride on Lake Naivasha. Local fisherman were busy with individual lines or hauling or setting nets. The shore abounded with all manner of water birds, mostly hanging out on dead tree trunks near shore, commingling with submerged hippos, and other animals coming to the lake for refreshments. Vanessa and I enjoyed a nice lunch in the shady outdoor cafe as our guide and driver gathered in their chosen spot with their colleagues.
As we departed the park with our driver Patrick, I mentioned I noticed a few times our young guide Frank (who I’d come to know was eager to connect with a white woman through conversation on the two-hour car ride to the park), several times was keen to offer to carry Vanessa’s camera and bag, which she readily obliged. As we pulled out of the gate, I cajoled him for not offering to carry the pack of this old Muzungu at any point on our bike ride. “But I understand,” I said, “you are attempting to be a good fisherman. I was once 22 myself.” He smiled, Patrick, Frank’s senior by 20 years and happily married, laughed aloud, and said “In fact, just yesterday I saw a bumper sticker that said: “Don’t Hunt What You Cannot Kill’” With that, we all headed back to Nairobi.
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