Farewell to Safariworld

Nairobi --> Naivasha --> Nakuru --> Kisumu --> Kakamega --> Eldoret --> Kitale --> Malaba (Uganda)

Leaving Nairobi for the second time we stopped first at Naivasha, home of Lake Naivasha and Hell's Gate National Park. Lake Naivasha was anything but: after walking down the road for a few kilometres and turning right at the dilapidated hovels of a small village we pass substantial farmland and followed the paths around vege patches. Eventually we reach scrub land and stop to ask for directions: keep going straight ahead. Straight ahead leads over a huge area of cracked ground and, as we approach the lake shore where the ground is wetter, herds of goats and cows chewing the last vestiges of new grass off the surface.

Lake Naivasha's curse, aside from an allegedly crippling drought, is that it is the only freshwater lake in a region filled with sode lakes, hence the agriculture. It is also the home of Kenya's flower industry whose greenhouses are visible from the lakeshore. Aside from the clearly dehydrated and shriveled lake taking up a lot less space than it should, it was also apparent from close observation that the lake wasn't overly deep either: fishermen waded one hundred or more metres into the lake with the water reaching only mid-thigh.

Thankfully, also near Naivasha, is the splendid Hell's Gate National Park: this park, a relative titch at 32 square kilometres, is unique in that it is the only park in Kenya where visitors are allowed to walk or cycle through the park. Bikes were hired due to general laziness and off we went. Anyone with an interest in my personal safety will be chuffed to know that there are no lions or elephants in the park; however there are some other large and potentially dangerous animals: buffalo. Anyone with an interest in my personal safety will also be chuffed to know that buffalo, despite weighing in at up to one tonne and having big, pointy horns, are in fact a bunch of big wowsers and are quick to head in the other direction should a cycle-borne biped hurtle towards them. The park itself follows a gorge for 8 kilometres and encompasses some nearby hills which means that the animals are, due to the geography, often no further away than a few hundred metres (unless they figure out how to climb the sides of the gorge). We saw plenty of impala, hartebeest, zebra, buffalo, antelope, warthogs, several giraffes and one big bird with long legs.

Sadly there is little else to do at Naivasha and the town, like so many in Kenya (or even Africa) wasn't a reason to stay. Next stop: Nakuru.

Nakuru is famous for flamingos: it has a big soda lake and the flamingos' preferred one at that (unless things get rough, in which case they move on). It's also one of Kenya's 'premier' national parks and which means that mazungu pay US$60 (locals pay about US$4) for the pleasure of seeing pink specks on a lake, and have to arrange car hire on top of this to drive around. We found that there is something a lot cheaper to see in Nakuru: the Menengai Crater.

Western Kenya is still very much in the Rift Valley and there is good evidence of this by walking a few kilometres out of town. A pleasant stroll we thought and a good way to pass the day. As we progressed up the slope a barrier arm becomes visible and, yes, there's a man by the small wooden hut opposite. “600 shillings (US$8) per person to enter,” he notes. This is a surprise for us: no mention of an entrance fee in the guidebook. As he has no ID and no price list we ask for proof that this is the cost: he digs through the little wooden hut and produces a chunky internal memo from the Kenya Forestry Service – there is still forest in Kenya, so someone has to look after it – which details the prices (we were wrong, he had a price list) for every service imaginable: recreation (indeed 600 shillings for foreigners), logging, the cost per head for grazing of cows, sheep and goats and many other activities that we hadn't even considered. Still skeptical and not keen to spend all this money to stand on top of a hill in low cloud we declined which prompted the man to drop the price to 300 shillings, then to 150 shillings per person. We still declined and decided to walk around the very free side road to get a killer view of Lake Nakuru, our reason for going in the first place.

Having found this killer view we did the obvious: follow our noses to find other views and meander through the farms and vege gardens covering the slopes. We ended up back on the pay-per-use main road which went through several villages (whose occupants technically should also be paying entry to visit their homes; somehow I doubt that they did) to the top of the crater edge. Flashback to school geography studies of vulcanology: we stood atop a massive cliff of volcanic ash (tuff) and, squinting through the haze and low clouds, could just make out the much lower edge of the crater opposite (this means the wind was blowing towards us when the volcano went pop). There were still active vents pumping out steam dotted across the craggy crater floor and, to complete the tourism extravaganza there were some very miserable craft vendors sitting around a small fire keeping warm waiting for tourists. We had a chat about nothing of substance (I can't remember anything of the conversation) and, come twilight, returned to town.

Continuing the push west we headed to Kisumu on the shores of Lake Victoria and well within Luo territory, the tribe from which President Obama's father comes. It is in a pleasant setting, next to one of the largest car washes in the world: Lake Victoria itself. Yes, locals drive their cars into the shallows of the lake and, using the lake water thankfully without adding suds and wax, wash their cars down. There is, unfortunately, very little to do in Kisumu aside from looking at Lake Victoria. We walked past the tiny impala santuary to the very inappropriately named Hippo Point (none to be seen) and were able to cross Kisumu off our list of things to do.

Heading in a very roundabout way to Uganda we made a stop and Kakamega to see the last remains of the mighty Guineo-Congolese rainforest which once covered a sizeable chunk of Kenya. About 1% of Kenya's original forests remain partly due to those dastardly colonials but mainly due to the locals chopping down the trees for building and to burn to turn into charcoal – the key fuel source for cooking and heating in sub-Saharan Africa. The single largest chuck of this rainforest is left next to Kakamega town.

Arriving in Kakamega we found a reasonably cheap place to stay: the local veterinary supply shop. Thankfully the vet-clinic smell which permeates the shop didn't make it to the pleasant rooms. Thankfully the shop-keeper also didn't offer us any delousing products.

To get to the forest itself we did a dry run, catching a pick-up to the small town of Shinyalu and walking the remaining five kilometres to the forest. Guidebook advice notes that there is indeed an attractive waterfall somewhere in this forest: just find the Kenya Wildlife Service (KWS), hand over some money and make your way to this watery haven. We went to the main gate, run by the Kenya Forest Service (KFS), and asked about entry. All is clear and good and the next day we return, pay entry and start following the paths. A while later the path kind of peters out: we push on regardless and eventually find a road. “Where's the waterfall?” we ask locals. Shrugs or ambiguous directions and pointing follow and we continue nonetheless. We ended up walking miles to the next town and ask again. No waterfall. We push on, covering perhaps another ten kilometres until we find a town, Ivihiga, which has a pick-up service back to Kakamega. Back at town, exhausted, we recheck the guide. We went to completely the wrong place to see the waterfall, to an area run by a different government agency than we should have and missed it by miles. Serendipity, however, meant that we still had a decent day out in the forest.

By this time we made a slightly circuitous dash to the border with Uganda heading through the highly uninspiring town of Eldoret, noted by Lonely Planet for its cheese industry: a small factory by the creek running through the bottom of town. It is also the place where I quite unintentionally planted my skinny arse just on the edge of my laptop causing my screen to crack; the left-hand most five centimetres of the screen is just fine though!

We finished Kenya by stopping at Kitale, close by a swamp which Paul visited (this didn't interest me) and, during my time around town, received a farewell by the military brass band from the local barracks. Paul's swamp visit complete we headed to the border the same afternoon.