Peter Elia on Mount Kenya,
Peter Elia headed to Mount Kenya in search of a less crowded alternative to Kilimanjaro – but as the world went into lockdown, he and his companions unexpectedly found they had Africa’s second highest mountain completely to themselves
“From the summit we could see Kilimanjaro, 200 miles away. This is the most extended view between any two points on the planet.”
AT 2:45AM, I switched my headtorch on and saw what lay immediately ahead: a steep slope and plenty of scree to negotiate. A fierce, bitter wind whipped around us. We began to shuffle like penguins and inch our way up the mountain’s exposed slopes. This isn’t anyone’s idea of a nice time of day to go for a walk; but if you want to bask in the glory of a summit sunrise on Africa’s second highest mountain, it’s the price you have to pay. We pushed on.
Most trekkers who travel to East
Africa go for Mount Kenya’s ‘big brother’, Kilimanjaro. The allure of Kili is easy to understand. The Tanzanian peak is the highest point on the African continent and, at 5895 metres high (19,341ft), is almost a kilometre higher than the target of my climb. However, Kili does have a reputation for being somewhat crowded. I was looking for a quieter experience – and, boy, did I get it!
Mount Kenya National Park is not exactly unknown as a trekking destination; its variety of landscapes, pristine lakes, tropical glaciers and endangered wildlife means it attracts around 15,000 trekkers a year. So I wasn’t expecting complete solitude. But in the end, because of a certain invisible pathogen, the experience turned out to be far more isolated than I could ever have imagined.
I had planned to hike Mount Kenya as part of an organised group from London in March. But my hiking buddies (due to fly out a few days after me) were not allowed to board their flight as the Kenyan authorities had introduced travel restrictions due to coronavirus. I was then notified by our tour company that the hike was cancelled.
Subsequently, I was stuck in Nairobi with few places to go. I became friends with Benson Njoroge, owner of the tour company. Over drinks, we decided to go to Mount Kenya anyway. We were joined by two of his pals and left the capital the next day. At the time, the government’s advice limited the gathering of social groups to a maximum of 10 people and Mount Kenya remained open to visitors.
The restrictions tightened further – but because we lost our phone signal in the national park, we didn’t realise. This resulted in the four of us only encountering one other hiker on the entire trail and having the summit of Mount Kenya to ourselves. This is practically unheard of since the arrival of tourists more than 50 years ago.
CROSSING THE LINE
Mount Kenya has not one but three peaks, and I was heading for the nontechnical ‘trekkers’ option’ of Point Lenana (4985m/16,355ft). The higher summits of Nelion (5188m/17,021ft) and Batian (5199m/17,057ft) are shafts of imposing vertical rock. I’m not sure what the correct categorisation is for these ascents, but I’m calling them ‘squeaky bum climbs’ and leaving them to the mountaineering fraternity.
I didn’t think for one minute it would be an easy trek – Point Lenana is higher than any peak in the Alps. But I had help in the form of Benson (the guide), Joshua (the porter) and Samir (the cook).
These fantastic guys were going to treat me to hiking luxury. The ‘Savoy’ of treks would include two or three cooked meals a day and a bed with mattress in a dormitory hut. I would be free to worry about sunburn, altitude sickness and where
I put my hand sanitiser.
Ben, Joshua and I set off in pouring rain from my hotel in Nairobi for the threehour drive to Nanyuki, the gateway town for Mount Kenya trekkers. Our driver Enoch skilfully negotiated the adverse weather conditions and had a knack for avoiding other motorists who seemed less concerned for their own lives than we did.
After a brief selfie stop at the Equator sign, we reached Nanyuki. The guys stocked up on food supplies, and we also picked up Samir, our cook for the
mountains. Enoch dropped us off at the Sirimon Park Gate, the starting point of the hike. There were no queues; in fact, we were the only group to enter our signatures into the rangers’ registration book. The first cases of coronavirus were diagnosed in Nairobi a few days before we left, and, evidently, visitor numbers were down. At this point, the only government advice was not to gather in groups of 50 or more.
Our hike began gently uphill along a surfaced road. You can actually drive to the first camp, but this doesn’t help with acclimatisation. I enjoyed a slow walk with Ben and Joshua in the sunshine, teaching the lads a few cockney rhyming phrases in exchange for some words in Swahili, leading to some hilarity as we passed through bamboo and cedar forests.
Before long, the vegetation began to thin out. The ground cover switched to an abundance of heather, glowing in warm colours from the late afternoon sun. The setting was not too dissimilar to the Yorkshire moors. I couldn’t find Emily Brontë’s Heathcliff, but I did spot the Old Moses Campsite on a distant ridgetop. Samir had gone ahead to cook our meal before we headed to bed for an early night.
A RARE SIGHTING
After Samir’s delicious breakfast of porridge, sausages, pancakes, two rounds of toast, limitless milky tea and a fruit salad, I rolled my way onto the path to join Ben and Joshua. Back in London, I would be labelled a chubby chops for eating a five-course breakfast; but the rarefied atmosphere seems to drain calories from the body effortlessly. Within an hour of setting out on our morning hike, it felt like breakfast never happened.
The path climbed steadily through the dusty lowlands into primeval forest. Benson pointed out various animal footprints, explaining which species they belonged to. Hyenas, leopards, elephants and other notable game all roamed the area, but they now shy away from humans. Sadly, this is a result of decades of poaching in the national park; animal sightings are rare.
The game element certainly added a new dimension to the trekking experience. Joshua would occasionally scrutinise excrement along the track and share his knowledge with me. I received an informal education in faeces sizing, colour and smelliness, which determined which animal had been here and how long
ago. We were quite literally talking shit, until Joshua politely told me to shush and gestured with his hand for me to keep still. He pulled back the small branches from a shrub and revealed a chameleon. Either the little creature was having a poor day at the office, or Joshua is a complete legend. I was astonished by his bush instincts.
Further down the valley opposite
Mount Kenya lie the razor-sharp twin peaks of Terere (4714m) and Sendoyo (4704m). These ancient volcanic vents could comfortably take their place in Mordor’s Middle Earth. Mostly black rock with orange flecks, these craggy outlined pinnacles are very tempting to hike. However, due to frequent rockslides, I would have to admire their beauty from our camp.
On arrival at the Shipton Huts, there were reasons to be cheerful. Mountain buzzards soared directly above us, and sunbirds were hopping around the scattered rocks. Nature had temporarily gone into the realms of Disney Technicolor, but lurking in the five o’clock afternoon shadow stood our mountain – a big challenge for tomorrow.
EARLY BIRDS
I am a morning person – but a 2am alarm call is a bit too much even for me! I woke up blurry-eyed and disoriented, eventually plodding off to wash my face in cold water. Samir placed a cup of hot tea in my hand, and suddenly the world felt a better place.
Five layers of clothing later, I was ready to join Ben and Joshua in the outside chill. After a glance up at the bright crescent moon and stars, we set off on an immediate steep climb onto the first ridge. The steep gradients between the ridges were my main concern – that and the scree underfoot. Joshua and Ben glided through these sections with ease, but I couldn’t quite follow their lead as I often made three steps forward, then slid two steps back. I had inadvertently developed my own game of Snakes & Ladders, and I don’t think the guys were too impressed.
Ben had now moved ahead to join Joshua, like a pacemaker in a track and field event, spurring me on to keep up. His tactics worked, and we climbed more rapidly over large boulders before tackling the final section. At this point, Ben asked me to turn round. My eyes were transfixed in a moment of pure joy! The eastern horizon had just burst into flames. I shouted at Ben. “I need to take a picture of this!” Every
On arrival at the Shipton Huts, there were reasons to be cheerful. Mountain buzzards soared directly above us, and sunbirds were hopping around the scattered rocks.
colour of the rainbow appeared in the skyline, with red and orange tones trapped below a blanket of cloud and the other five shades represented above it. Had I just died and gone to heaven?
It dawned on me (excuse the pun) that I had completely fluffed making the summit for sunrise. We had 80 metres to go, and had a small but tricky scramble to get to the top. I needed to focus. I followed Joshua’s handand foothold marks, and with one last push we had made it to the summit plateau. The feeling was exhilarating, standing over three miles above the earth, and all the physical suffering had evaporated.
The day was clear enough to catch a glimpse of Kilimanjaro, 200 miles away to the south. Amazingly, this is the most extended view between any two points on the planet, and I wondered if anyone had just summited Kili. We had only seen a handful of hikers pass in the opposite direction since our entry through the Sirimon Park Gates. Typically 30 or 40 groups would have gathered at the summit by now, but we were all alone.
LOOKING BACK
When I got back to Nairobi, the Kenyan government were preparing for lockdown, and all non-residents had 72 hours to leave the country. Mount Kenya was a stroll in the park compared to organising my exit to London. With a few more grey hairs added, I managed to board a flight back home.
The outbreak of coronavirus had changed the narrative of our trek. As time passed in our four-day bubble of isolation, we shared our hopes and fears openly.
From our future employment prospects to concerns for vulnerable loved ones, we covered a range of topics not commonly found on your usual lads’ hike.
There is something special about hiking without the crowds. Time becomes a friend and nature gives a helping hand to calm the body and mind. I believe this signalled a green light to walk freely down the avenues of conversation without barriers. Perhaps I will remember the friendships fostered more than the excitement of reaching the summit. I struggled with fatigue and breathing difficulties toward the final stages of the summit, but I was conscious that no medical help would be available under the circumstances, and these three amazing guys pulled me through.
I am fortunate to have had this fantastic overseas experience just before coronavirus restrictions ‘closed’ the rest of the world, but the knock-on effects of coronavirus have also caused me to reflect on travel.
Air travel has been a big part of my life, and one I had taken for granted. Seeing aerial photographs of my city, London, with so little pollution, made a real impact. Undoubtedly, the airline industry contributes to higher CO2 emissions, and my perspective on international travel has begun to change. Realistically, I am not planning to give up flying altogether. However, I will reduce the number of flights I take each year, and look for alternative greener transport wherever possible.
■ For more hiking adventures, follow Peter Elia (‘The man who hiked the world’) on Instagram (@themanwhohikedtheworld) and Facebook (facebook.com/theman whohikedtheworld).