HELL's Gate National Park

After a month in Kenya, we decided it was time to get out of Nairobi and explore a different part of the country. Since we didn't want to be gone for more than a weekend, we decided to do an overnight in Lake Naivasha, about an hour north of Nairobi. We planned a couple of touristy excursions and off we went.  The trip there was very pleasant, and we were in high spirits as we approached the beautiful lake. As we headed towards our first destination, Hell's Gate, it started raining, pretty intensely, and we began to wonder if it was a good idea to try to do the park amidst this weather. While  I thought we had agreed to skip it for the day and go straight to the campsite we planned to stay the night at, I found myself following Eric's lead and alighting at Hell's Gate turn off, wondering why we decided to leave a nice, dry ride for the torrential rain that began to pour. We walked about 50 meters down the 2 kilometer road to the entrance before finding shelter under a tree to get our raingear out of our bags. Why Eric had us get off the matatu in the first place is beyond me, and you'll see at the conlusion of the story why, after this weekend, Eric has been relieved of any decision making in this relationship, ever. 

Going back to where we left the matatu, we waited in the downpour for a good ten minutes before another matatu picked us up and took us to where we wanted to stay. At this point, it had stopped raining-- rain comes and goes like lightning here-- but we were thoroughly soaked and discouraged about venturing out anymore that day. Upon arrival at the camp, one that is highly recommended by our Lonely Planet book, we were unfortunately surpised at the cost of the place, which was at least three times what we expected it to be. We must say that while we love our guide book and all of the information it has provided us with, we are sorely dissapointed with the innacurate reporting of the pricing. This was not the first time we have gone into a siutation here with a budget planned according to the book, and then, realizing the book's error, have had to rearrange our budget. I must say that we haven't ever been in a bad position where we couldn't pay for something, it's just the unexpected element of surpise and hit to our pre arranged budget that takes us back. But, enough about that. We ended staying at a great place right on the lake with monkeys to entertain us and an electric security fence around the lake, as it is common for hippos to come up to shore at night to graze. After a relaxing afternoon, good dinner, and a couple rounds of scrabble, we retired for the night, even more eager to start our adventure at Hell's Gate the following morning.

A disclaimer is in order before the tale of Hells Gate can commence: I am not an in-shape person. I do not have any endurance whatsoever and find myself panting for air over fairly small physical activity. I know this about myself and readily admit it to anyone who is unfortunate to extend an invitation my way for anything physically challenging. However, I often find myself tricking me into accepting such invvitations, giving myself way more credit than is due. This lands me in a world of hurt, when about two minutes after said physical activity gets underway, I am on the sidelines panting for air, wondering what on earth I got myself into.

 This park is unique in that they encourage visitors to walk or bike through the park, getting up close and personal with the wildlife that resides there. The excitement of the possibility of standing right underneath a giraffe was too good for me and Eric to pass up, so we decided to embark on our safari atop questionable bicycles we hired from the side of the road, 2 kilometers from the gate of the park. The going was easy, for the first 500 meters. I  quickly remembered my lack of preparedness for this trip, but pushed it aside with the promise that being a short distance from wild zebras and warthogs would be well worth it. After we paid-- once again more than expected-- at the entrance, we were off ,and were greeted with a beautiful blue sky and beautiful cliffs on either side of us. Not too hot, good breeze, a perfect leisurely ride was on the horizon. Or so I thought. Our excitement continued to swell as we spotted gazelles and zebra very soon into our trip. Stopping to take pictures, grab some water, and marvel in the greatness that was the natural landscape before us, we were elated. The first 5km went by in a flash and we were faced with the decision to continue another two kilometers to a rangers post for a picnic, then turn back, or take a route marked "Buffalo Circuit", a 14 km trail that seemed to go around the eastern part of the park. Having time on our side, and Eric making the decisions, we (He) decided we should take the longer route. So, off we went, in search of more wildlife and to continue our wonderful Sunday morning. 

Fast forward two minutes, we are faced with a mother of a hill, one that was impossible to bike up, so we dismounted and pushed onwards and upwards. As fatigue set in, I was doing just fine with the thought of summiting the hill, telling myself to set my eyes on the prize and just focus on getting to the top. Well, sad to say,  after the first summit greeted us with another base of a hill similar to previous, after fifteen of these, my eyes were no longer set on "the prize", and instead were focused on staying upright. I can honestly report that I truly truly did try to suppress the mounting frustration towards my fearless leader, however, having been misled on treks far simpler than this one, I couldn't help but feel the steam coming out of my ears-- and it wasn't due to the beating sun and rising elevation! As Eric trudged forward, looking back every so often, telling me to stop stopping, I not so politely informed him that he had ruined our lesireuly ride and further misstepped by taking us up a route that proved to have no more wildlife than it did scenery. It was a heavy covered trail with bushes in every direction, providing little to look at but the massive incline before us. By this point, my legs are jelly, my lungs are barely functioning, and I'm literally gasping for air and trying with everything in me not to burst into tears ( at this point, if you think I'm overreacting, re-read the disclaimer. I am NOT an athletic person). Not to say that I don't enjoy physical activity. I actually thoroughly enjoy the idea of something physically taxing and further enjoy the thought of how beneifical it will be fore me. However, it's once I begin to engage in said physical activity that my body decides to give me the rude awakening of how much I've neglected to adequately prepare it for such a feat. On top of the borderline tears, nonfunctioning legs, and failing lungs I began to play mind games with myself, cursing me for not being able to get up a simple hill. I told myself how foolish I've been for not exercising more, yada yada yada.... I was in rough shape. At this point, in hindsight, I must give Eric tremendous credit for not leaving me back on the trail and continuing the journey solo. I can't say I would've done the same. He even helped me push my bike a couple times- albeit for a very short distance, because, well, I do have some pride.

At one point in our treacherous trek, I looked up to see Eric put his arms up in triumph and thought, " Oh my god, we've made it, nothing but downhill bliss awaits". WRONG. Eric was merely celebrating the fact that we were halfway, which was 7.7 km into the circuit, which once again let me emphasize, was COMPLETELY UPHILL. Whether Eric was just excited to be halfway or tremendously relieved that he has actually guided us on the right path ( which I may or may not have doubted out loud several times), he was in high spirits. I, on the other hand, could not join him in celebration, as I looked ahead, which only presented MORE uphill trail. I swear, I thought this trail would never end. We stopped for a ten minute lunch of PBJ and cookies, and looked at the map to see where we were in this godforsaken park. It was at this point that we noticed an interesting arrow on the map, directing visitors on the way to follow if they decided to take the Buffalo Circuit Road. No surprise there, WE HAD GONE THE WRONG WAY. I must admit, this provided a certain amount of consolation, knowing that the average visitor isn't supposed to be able to do this route and that had we gone the other way, most of what we had battled would've been much more leisurely, given we'd be going downhill the entire way with a very slight, gradual incline on the way up. I was furious at this oversight, but there was not point in turning around now-- or so Eric insisted.

Nevertheless, the afternoon was quickly approaching, and we wanted to be back into town early enough to catch a matatu back to Nairobi before dark. Having fueled up on energy, we continued to the top of the ridge that we had been following, and the going proved to be just as slow as it was before our pit stop. FINALLY. We reached the top. A wave of relief was quickly subdued as we examined the road before us, inches and inches of fine powder dirt, making a good coast down impossible, forcing us to continue our walk with our bikes, downhill. To add insult to injury, I was aghast to feel precipitation start to hit my arms, the only part of my body I could still actually feel. It truly felt like we were the victims of a cruel joke.  Luckily, the powder dirt was short lived, and soon we were back on our bikes cruising down the mountain, trying to beat the rain while taking in the view of the lake and the abundance of zebras and gazelles the second half of this route had waiting for us. We even saw two giraffe in the far far distance, which totally counts in our animal tally for the day. My spirits were about a million times higher than they were the first half of this trip and knew that overall, we had a successful day. I humbly apologized to Eric for being such a wimp the first half of the route and he was gracious enough to shrug it off, as after all, it was his idea to go that way. The last several kilometers of the ride found us laughing at the ridiculousness that was that route and wondering why on earth they don't warn you about that route ( because, obviously, that arrow on the map is not sufficient!) Completing our 25 kilometer trek in just over 3 hours added the extra encouraging boost we both needed and we rode out of the park feeling very proud of ourselves and concluding it was, for the most part, worth it.  As we rode out of the park, I stopped at the entrance to take a picture of the sign, Hell's Gate-- a name has never been so fitting!             

Laurel