Posts from the ‘kenya’ Category

Jan 19

The truth about ‘that’ night in Nairobi

So when we were on our travels there were some things that happened which we didn’t feel were appropriate to include in our blog; until now. Because now that we are safely back in the fold and families can see for themselves that we are still in one piece we can admit that things were sometimes more serious than we let on. One particular incident we glossed over, was on 20^th October we were in a huge armed robbery in Nairobi, when 6 men armed with assault rifles, handguns and machetes broke into our compound and Nairobi lived up to its pseudonym, Nairobbery, in spectacular fashion.

It had been another hectic day in Nairobi, navigating the heavy traffic travelling between embassies to obtain our visas for onward travel. We arrived back at our campsite, Jungle Junction, late afternoon exhausted but elated that our visas for Sudan and Ethiopia had been granted. Our Austrian friends who were camping close by had also had success so we enjoyed a few beers together to celebrate our hard-earned visas. A few more people had arrived during the day, an older, slightly crazy German guy who had been travelling alone in his camper and 4 Japanese tourists who were going on Safari the following day. They’d set up their dome tents within the small, hedged garden close the main house, whilst ourselves and the Austrians were parked out in the main grassy area of the walled compound. As we shared drinks with the Austrians we discovered that an armed robbery had taken place only a week before and although we felt unnerved by the news, it was too late it in the evening to move on and realistically the risk of it happening again so soon were relatively low. However, just to be cautious we decided to move our car from the centre of the paddock and tuck up next to the hedge at the end of a row of 4×4 vehicles which had been recently left to go into storage, at least there we didn’t stand out as much if robbers did decide to return. We laughed off our nervousness, but deep down we both realised that despite the seemingly safe and leafy suburb that the new campsite was in, apart from the wall there was not much security to speak of.

We said goodnight to our friends and headed off to bed. The nights in Nairobi are very unrestful. A modern, slick city by day soon takes on a dark and sinister feel at night. In a place where every home is protected by high levels of security and guard dogs, the night air is filled with the sounds of thousands of dogs barking interspersed, not to mention intermittent gun fire! I remembered reading about the ‘Twilight barking’ in Disney’s Lady and the Tramp, but this was closer to hell than Disney! Around 1.30am, we were woken by shouting from within our campsite followed quickly by loud bangs and gunshots. I sat up, heart pounding, frantically looking out of the tent window to see if I could see what was happening. As I looked towards the main building I could make out the dark silhouettes of 6 men armed men running round the building. A wave of fear swept over me and the blood drained from my face. I grabbed hold of Rich who was next to me straining to try and see out of the window on my side. ‘’What can you see, what’s going on?” he said. I turned to look at him ‘’It’s happening again, we’re being robbed’ I replied. Hearts in our mouths we sat deathly still in our tent, not daring to move, not daring to speak, not daring to barely breath as we watched the events unfold in front of us.

From our rooftop tent hidden in the shadows, we watched as the robbers forced their way into the first building, kicking the door in and ransacking the office, before using a metal bar to force open the campervan of the unfortunate German who was parked just in front of the office. The German was pulled from his van and beaten before tied up face down on the floor. The commotion had also woken the other guests and without thinking the Japanese tourists, camping by the house, turned on torches to try and see what was happening. The light only bought attention to them and within seconds the armed men were over at their tents, slicing through the flimsy material of their small dome tents with machetes to pull out the terrified tourists. With guns held to their heads the Japanese were forced to handover everything they had – which was a hefty bounty for the thieves of ipads, ipods, phones and cash. The terrified tourists were roughed up and thrown to the floor where they were threatened at gunpoint and tied up, ironically with their own ipod cables. All the time, Rich and I were only metres away praying that a scanning flashlight from one of the intruders would not reveal that we were there too. By this point, fear had turned into pure adrenalin and we contemplated trying to make a run for it, but in an open compound with little cover, there really wasn’t anywhere to run too. So we waited; trapped in our tent, on the roof of our car and unable to reach our phone we couldn’t even summon any help. Already 90minutes had passed since the robbers had first entered the property.

With the focus now on the Japanese tourists, the old German decided he would try and make a break for it, managing to free himself from his restraints and starting to run down the driveway. He didn’t get far as he was quickly spotted by 2 of the men who gave chase. They ran out of our view, all we could here was the German yelling as the 2 men closed in on him and then suddenly a single gunshot was fired and everything went quiet. We lay in the darkness of our tent, our hearts pounding so hard we were sure they could hear us but we were convinced the German had just been murdered. The silence was followed by fleeting footsteps, and we believe at this point that the group divided and those who satisfied with their booty from the Japanese left over the back wall, whilst those who had yet to take anything worth their while remained within the compound walls. We lay in the darkness, not even daring to look through the window anymore, trying to work out which direction the footsteps were heading in and how many were still left. With the main building ransacked and the other guests robbed, there was only one place left for the robbers to check and we knew it would only be a matter of moments before we were found. Sure enough, the footsteps soon started in our direction and we could hear as the men began to try the door handles of the parked cars next to us.

As the footsteps approached us, we had already gone beyond fear and we both fell into a surreal state of calm. It wasn’t a matter of being scared anymore, this was about survival and we were both mentally preparing ourselves for what was about to happen. We had no way of defending ourselves, we didn’t have a gun, our pepper spray was locked in the car along with our maglite (truncheon) torch. The game was up and we would just have to do whatever they wanted in order to survive. The men reached our car and we could hear their hushed voices as they tried the door handles, then probably confused by the sight of the rooftent and unsure if anyone was in it, they began to rock the car from side to side to try and scare us out. We didn’t move. One of the men then climbed up onto the back of the car to try and pull the gas bottle from its holder, Rich sat up slowly and looked through the meshed window straight at the masked robber, who was only centimetres away. The robber, too busy trying to remove the gas bottle had not noticed that he was almost face to face with Richard. Frustrated that he couldn’t remove the gas bottle, he then fired a gunshot right next to the car, the sharp cracking sound of the bullet echoed around the compound. We held each other tightly as we felt his weight on the ladder, putting first one foot, then second onto the bottom rung. I closed my eyes as I waited for the outside zip to be pulled up, but just as his hand found the zip a number of gunshots were suddenly fired at entrance to the compound.

There was a lot of confusion as gunshots rang out and the gates opened to allow a vehicle through. We were not sure who had just arrived, whether it was police or more robbers but we knew that someone was still at the foot of our ladder. As the vehicle came up the driveway we could hear many more people running around accompanied by more gunshots. We stayed down, worried we would be caught in the crossfire, it was like something out of the Wild West. It only lasted for a few minutes, but those minutes felt like forever. As the situation calmed we could hear the other guests talking again and realised that it was the police afterall. At 4am, nearly 2.5hrs after the robbery began, we were finally able to climb down from our tent, feeling shocked and shaken by what had just happened and feeling incredibly lucky that we had just survived completely unscathed and with all our belongings. At the foot of our ladder lay a discarded rope that was no doubt intended for tying us up. It sent shivers down my spine to realise just how close we’d been. We walked round to find the other guests, relieved to see that the German had not been shot after all, our Austrian friends were fine and none of the other guests had suffered serious injuries. As is the way in Africa, once the police had ‘’cleared the scene’’ they did not hang about to collect statements or provide further security reassurance and left. In Africa, you can’t rely on the police the way you can in the western world. But I guess in our case, something was better than nothing and we were glad that they eventually turned up! We helped the Japanese tourists pick up their remaining belongings, they had lost pretty much everything and despite have only arrived the day before, they were all keen to head home on the first available flight. We gathered everyone together inside the main building, too frightened to go back outside and so we decided to wait out the night there. Unbelievably the robbers returned about an hour later (different ones, the same ones? I don’t know) trying to force their way through the gate but fortunately with everyone awake, we were able to scare them off by turning all the lights on, shining torches towards the gate and generally making a racket. The sun took an agonisingly long time to rise, it had been the longest night of our lives. We decided not to risk another night at JJ’s, and moved to a much more secure campsite. As we arrived at Wildebeest, we could not have been happier to see the high walls, electric fences and security guards that surrounded the beautiful eco-camp. The fantastic Aussie owners immediately put us at ease, and It allowed us some time to recuperate from the ordeal and mentally prepare ourselves for the ongoing journey through Africa. Its true though, if it doesn’t kill you, it only makes you stronger!

So looking back on things, would we have done things differently? Probably not. Ultimately we were just very unlucky to be in the wrong place at the wrong time, which is the same where ever you are in the world. I haven’t heard of any other overlanders getting caught up in anything like this.

Before the trip people asked us if we would carry a gun? The answer is still no. If you carry a gun, you have to be prepared to use it and know how to use it well! The moment a gun is pulled out, things will escalate immediately into a life threatening situation.

Would we go back to Nairobi? Honestly, only if we had too! Cities are not great places in Africa and we would always try and limit the amount of time we spent in them, unfortunately if you have to get visas en route it is unavoidable. However as long as you’re sensible most people are fine! For us, out of all the countries that we visited, Kenya was certainly the most unsettled, which isn’t something we weren’t expecting. There is a lot of underlying tension between tribes, ethnicities and religious groups – but again, we were there when Westgate had not long happened and our particular experience made us a lot more sensitive than we otherwise would have been. It’s still a beautiful country, with so much to offer but it’s certainly a country where extra caution needs to be taken.

Nov 8

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An overlander’s rite of passage: Marsabit to Moyale

Day: 213

KLMS: 31,368

After far too many days in another African city, our new shocks supplied by RAW 4X4 Australia arrived and we were finally able to head out of Nairobi. Leaving the city late, we only made it to Nyeri and headed for a farm, Sandai, which had been recommended by fellow overlanders Oli & Lisa. It was the perfect stop after the city and arriving late in the evening, the owner Petra, welcomed us into her home and seated us in front of the roaring fire with a big glass of red wine. After the city, the peace of the countryside was amazing and our host was so welcoming that we were very tempted to stay a lot longer. The farm sits at the foot of Mount Kenya where they run safaris into the nearby Samburu National Park, as well as offering riding safaris, painting tours, fishing trips – they would really cater for anything you wanted to do. We decided we would go back to Kenya to just spend time here, but for now we had to press on to our next country, Ethiopia.

There are two routes into Ethiopia from Kenya, a more direct but notoriously rough road from Marsabit to Moyale or a longer, very remote track via Lake Turkana. Both are legendary amongst overlanders, with tales of bandits, tribal clashes, breakdowns, chassis cracking corrugations and sharp tennis ball size rocks that can split even the toughest tyres; the mention of either road is enough to strike fear into the most hardened overlander. The road out of Kenya really is a rite of passage for any overlander travelling Africa and this article on Overland live blog tells you what the road can throw at you.

We had hoped that when the time came to face either of these roads, we would be in the company of other travellers to tackle the road as a team, but after as luck would have it, there was no one else travelling north at that time and so we were going to have to go it alone. We decided that we should take the most direct route, Marsabit to Moyale apparently the banditry had subsided recently and tribal clashes had eased off, we just had to hope to hell that the rains of the November wet season hadn’t already arrived in Northern Kenya. Our thoughts turned to our friends Oli and Lisa, who also had to drive this road alone and in the wet season – and the pictures from their blog had haunted us for a long time, the thick mud, lorries stuck everywhere and people on buses stranded for days. That night, despite our peaceful surroundings we barely slept.

The next morning, we were up at first light to hit the road. My stomach had managed to knot itself so tightly that not even Petra’s cooked breakfast could persuade us to eat. We just needed to get going, and get this over with!

The drive through to Isiolo was stunning, the beautiful scenery a welcome distraction, the green rolling hills inhabited by the Samburu tribe, their colourful beads a stunning contrast to their grassy surrounds gradually began to open out into sandy, flat, camel-filled plains. As we pulled up at check point, another foreign vehicle pulled up next to us. We desperately hoped they would be going the same way as us, but unfortunately they were going via Lake Turkana, even though they had 2 previously failed attempts.The first time the car broke down (Landrover) and the second getting shot at and robbed by bandits and yet they were still keen to try again! It was at this checkpoint that they told us the news we’d been dreading, the rain had arrived the week before so not only was the Marsabit to Moyale road in bad condition, but the road leading into Marsabit was also extremely difficult. The knot in my stomach tightened further, our best laid plans of tackling this road in convoy and in the dry season were unravelling fast!

A dry start to the journey towards Marsabit

As we drove on, the tarmac finished and we bounced onto the corrugated sandy road, The 100km off-road stretch leading into Marsabit had come as a complete surprise as we thought it was tamac all the way up. We sat in silence, eyes focused straight ahead waiting to see what fate would have in store for us. We didn’t have to wait long, as we rounded the next corner the sand gave way to mud and the mud soon turned into deep wet, slush. Engaging low range and dropping the tyre pressures we ploughed through the wet sections of mud but before long we were at a standstill. Lorries had already begun to get bogged, completely blocking the road and so we waited as attempts were made to try and pull them out. The new tarmac road, which people have talked about for years, is still very much under construction, and so conditions on the side track are worsened by the heavy machinery travelling up and down. However, the plus is that there are plenty of road workers and excavators on hand to pull people out when needed!

Plenty of people stuck along the way – everyone helping each other

By the end of the first day, we’d made it into Marsabit, exhausted and a little stunned by the unexpected amount of mud we had already faced. The last 100klms into Marsabit had been hard work and we hadn’t even started the ‘notorious’ 250km section to Moyale yet! We were very happy to call it a day and pull up into Henry’s rest camp it was definitely time for a beer. To say this trip has turned us into mild-alcoholics, is probably an understatement, any day of driving in Africa always requires beer at the end of the day! Rich set to work checking the car and I began cooking up big pasta dinners to ensure we had plenty of supplies to last through the next few days. The sun had come out and we began to feel hopeful that things may not be as bad on the road ahead as we were expecting. But no sooner had we begun to relax, then a huge clap of thunder boomed out across the valley beneath us and as we quickly packed up tools and cooking equipment the heavens opened. We dived into the tent as the lightening, thunder and rain opened up on us. It was so bad it was laughable, the situation could not be getting any worse! Another sleepless night, as the heavy rain continued through the night, the not so lovely pitter-patter on the rooftent tormenting us into the next day. We awoke the next morning to thick fog and swirling misty rain, we questioned whether we were completely insane to continue in such terrible conditions but with the rains having arrived the road would only get worse and the way we had come was already on the verge of being impassable. If we were to wait, we would be waiting in Marsabit for weeks, something neither of us were particular on doing. The only option was to keep moving forwards.

Packing up in the rain at Henry’s camp

Fortunately the first 50km out of Marsabit is the most glorious tarmac imaginable, so as we dropped down from the mountain town we came through the low clouds and out onto the open road. By the time we hit the mud we were pumped, ready for action and ready for total Armageddon. The muddy track was slippery and slow going, huge, deep pools of water covered large sections of the road. It felt like everything we’d experienced so far on this trip had been preparing us for this – the river crossings in Botswana, the mud in Malawi and our overall new levels of resilience to be able to dig deeper than ever before. We ploughed on, passing yet more stricken lorries, buses and cars, who despite the passengers predicament all seemed remarkably cheerful and were happy to wait for one of the excavators from the road-building team would come and rescue them at some point.

We continued slowly, but were soon at a standstill once more as we came to another huge pool of water which had claimed its first victim of the day. A Landcruiser troop carrier had become bogged in the middle, blocking the road. There was no way round and the car, filled with road workers had decided to abandon the car in the middle leaving the main route blocked. The workers came over to us and said we should try driving up onto the embankment, where the foundations of the new road were going in, from there we would be able to drive round and rejoin the track further up. We took their advice and turned around, driving back down the track trying to find a clear route up onto the embankment. Rich got out and walked the area between the track and the embankment, it was soft, soft clay but with rocky sections so we thought we’d give it a go. As we drove off the track, the soft clay began to take hold of the wheels and it needed a lot of momentum to keep the car from sinking down. We soon realised that this was not a good idea, but just hoped if we were able to get up onto the embankment, the surface would be more hard packed and easier to drive on. With foot to the floor, we sped the car up the side of the embankment and onto to the top, but as soon as we onto the top, what looked like hard-packed surfaced was just more soft clay – shit, this was a really bad idea! We kept going for as long as possible, but as we hit yet another large pool of water, the inevitable happened and the car sunk lower and lower before grinding to a complete stop. We were now stuck in about a foot of muddy water and far from the beaten track. It was time to get digging. Rich got to work trying to remove mud from under the wheels so that we could get our Maxtrax (sand/mud ladders) under the wheels to create some traction. Digging Kylie out of this on our own, without help was going to take all day. But with no other option available at that point, we had to keep digging. After about an hour of trying different things and desperately trying to keep frightening thoughts of being stranded here for days at bay, I heard the sound of another car driving up the track below us. Without a second thought I began running, slipping, sliding through the mud to try and get down the car before he passed by. The old 60 series Landcruiser had managed to find a way round the other stricken cruiser and was heading our way. I skidded down the embankment and ran towards the car waving frantically. It must have been quite a sight for the car’s 5 occupants to see a lone white female, covered head to toe in mud running towards them. Thankfully they stopped! I explained our predicament and they also said they’d tried to follow our tracks onto the embankment but had got stuck. I asked, then begged and pleaded with them to come and pull us out – initially reluctant to come to our rescue due to realising how soft the ground was where we were stuck, I was able to reassure them by showing that the 2 roads were almost joining up just ahead, so it would be easy for them to drive round to where we were. They agreed! A huge wave of relief swept over me, we were saved! I directed them round to where Kylie sat looking sorry for herself and Rich, not having seen where I’d run off to, was relieved to see me arrive with back up. The men got out of the car, but as Henry (the driver) reversed the car round to line up with ours he managed to slip straight into another pool of water, also bogging his car right up to the chassis. Great, our rescue attempt was looking like it was over before it had begun – the other guys were also not looking impressed. So it was all hand on deck to try and rescue the Cruiser first. We all began to dig, push, bounce the Landcrusier until we get its wheels onto the Maxtrax – it was sheer brute force with everybody pushing but we finally got the back wheels to grip and force the car out the muddy predicament. Huge cheers erupted as we got the first car out and the stern faces began to smile again. To keep their vehicle clear of the mud, we looped together 3 snatch straps and attached it to Kylie and as soon as the cruiser had regained some grip he was able to pull our old girl out with no problem. With both cars freed, we made our way back to the track. A lesson learned – never, ever leave the main track!!!

Our turn to get bogged

Our rescuers also get stuck

One big muddy mess trying to pull both cars out

The guys in the cruiser, were in fact researchers from Marsabit, who were trying to locate the current whereabouts of certain Gabra tribe members. They were only heading so far up the track that day, but agreed we should follow them as the road was only going to get worse. We travelled in convoy, happy to have another vehicle with us, suddenly the extreme situation seemed a lot more relaxed and the adventure, dare I say it, was becoming quite fun?

We reached a small research station, where the other guys would have to leave us as they were going to head ‘off piste’ to try and locate the tribe. We were still 140km from Moyale, so we would need to stay the night at the next settlement of Turbi. With the guys leaving us, the situation began to feel serious again, they were also still very worried about us making the last 20km stretch into Turbi as it was the worst section of the road. They recommended that we should wait where we were until another vehicle came by, so we thanked the men for their help and gave them beers from our fridge before saying goodbye. I think the look on my face said it all, as within minutes of the men returning to their car Henry came back over to say that they’d discussed things further and had agreed that they would go and do their work, but they would come back for us and escort us to Turbi, they were too worried to completely leave us! I was so thankful, I wanted to hug and kiss him right there. We sat on the side of the road and watched as their landcruiser disappeared off over the horizon. It was a surreal moment, abandoned in the middle of f***ing nowhere, with nothing but open, rocky landscape stretching out before us, the odd tribesman with his herd of camels passing us by and spectacular storm clouds rolling in across the plains in front of us.

Waiting for our buddies to come back

Camels cross the plains as the storms roll in

We waited for over an hour and as we began to wonder whether they would be true to their word, the white of their cruiser came back into view. Almost jumping up and down with excitement that they were back, we readied ourselves for the last slog to Turbi – the storm clouds were by this point so heavy that we’d lost all sight of the hills of Turbi in the distance. As we drove on, the rain became so torrential that not even the wipers on the fastest setting could clear the rain and mud off the window and by now the water on the road was so deep that it was regularly coming up over the bonnet. This was the Armageddon we’d been preparing ourselves for! How we got through the last stretch to Turbi I do not know – we had to pull the Cruiser out again on the way, but Kylie had made it through no problem! As we arrived in Turbi, a huge crowd gathered round us, we were the first cars through in days and everyone was curious to see the Muzungos who’d arrived. Unbelievably, the researchers, once they had got us safely to our destination turned round to head back down the same road. Genuine heroes.

The majority of the track looked like this

The view out of windscreen for most of the journey

Last stretch into Turbi

Our valiant heroes!

Turbi (the town of seven hills) is settled by the Gabra tribe. It really is nothing more than a few simple shops set amongst the traditional round cloth huts of the tribal residents. Amongst the huts, there is a tiny ‘lodge’ which has been funded by the local women who offer simple rooms to travellers but were happy to allow us to camp within the fenced area. As we pulled in, a large crowd of children formed around the car, bemused by the Muzungos who were taking up residence in their village and two men came to welcome us to the village. The women prepared hot bowls of water and once we’d had a wash we sat down with our new friends, to hear all about the Gabra tribe. Already aware of the tribal conflict in Northern Kenya, we were both a little unsure of our surroundings, but were quickly reassured that peace had been declared between the neighbouring tribes, 4months prior. In a land where water is so scarce in the dry season that villagers have to walk 25km every day, where nothing can grow and survival rests solely on livestock, cattle raids can easily lead to outright war. Only 8 years ago, 1,000 armed rival tribesman stormed the village at dawn, killing nearly 60 people, mostly young children and stealing thousands of animals, a horrific act that lead to many years of conflict, which had only recently been resolved. It was the harshest living conditions we have witnessed yet and so it was fascinating to hear about our people survived out here. We were invited to see inside one of the Gabra huts and as is tradition when guests arrive, sweet camel milk tea is served. For these people, water is as valuable as gold and their generosity was overwhelming. It was an incredibly humbling experience to spend an afternoon with the tribe, learning about their traditional way of life.

Trying to clean up in Turbi

We also met the head teacher from the local school, the most inspiring woman we have met so far on this trip, Thume arrived in Turbi 6months ago to establish the first girls school. In a place where girls are married at the age of 12, importance has never been placed on educating girls, but through Thume’s work with the local community, she is successfully encouraging families to allow their daughters to attend school. The next morning, we visited the school where her girls were keen to meet us, it was one of the most moving experiences of the trip. Walking out across the village in the early morning sun, we passed the original school where so many children had been killed a few years before, heading out towards the new school building where we could hear the childrens’ laughter long before they came into view. As we arrived, the young girls in their neat little uniforms and braided hair formed orderly lines in front of the school, eager to greet us. As we stood before them, Thume lead them into a song, the sound of which, on that morning, was so beautiful and so moving I could feel the tears welling in my eyes. At that moment, all thoughts of where we were, what we’d been through and what was yet to come had vanished, it was wonderful just to lose ourselves in their beautiful singing.

Tea with the Gabra at Turbi

Our wonderful hostess, her little boy was terrified of us

Storm clouds at Turbi

Our visit to Turbi Nomadic girls school

We left Turbi feeling completely humbled, inspired and ready to take on the final challenge of our journey. The previous evening the rain had stopped for the first time in days, giving the road a chance to start drying out, we knew this was our best and only chance of getting through, so we hit the last section hard. We came across more buses of people which had been stranded overnight, the biggest problem on this section of track was the water. As we waited at one particular pool for a bus to be pulled out, the passengers crowed round our car. ‘You will never get through’ they shouted, ‘The water is too deep’, ‘You must go back’. It felt a bit like a Thelma and Louise moment as we looked at each other. There was no going back! We ploughed into the water, a 200m stretch of deep water lay ahead of us and we insanely began yelling and shouting at Kylie to keep going, and keep going she did. As we drove out the otherside we felt invincible and our old girl Kylie was more than proving herself. It was the longest drive to Moyale, every kilometre felt like an eternity but after 3 full gruelling days and 250klms we’d made it, and with that one of the greatest adventures we’ve ever had, had come to an end.

One of many huge water crossings on the way to Moyale

The end! Tired beyond belief but so relieved to have finished!

Nov 5

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Kenya

Day: 210

KLMS: 31,113

As time frames and money begin to run out, Kenya for us was really going to be little more than a pitstop in Nairobi to get the visas we needed for heading north into Ethiopia and Sudan. Despite the less than ideal situation in Northern Africa, we have had confirmation from both locals and other travellers that it’s still ok to travel through, as long as certain areas are avoided. So with the decision made, we braced ourselves for a stressful few days, tackling the hell-bound traffic, in a notoriously dangerous city, to dance through the ridiculous hoops of the visa application process.

As we entered into Kenya, we began the steady climb up onto the western rift to the town of Eldoret, which at 2,500m provides the tough training ground for most of Kenya’s marathon champions. The cooler climate, the open fields and the roadside markets selling carrots, cabbages, onions, rhubarb(!), made it all suddenly seem very British, it was rather lovely. We found a great camp just outside town called Naiberi, where we could have happily stayed for a few days, but alas it was full steam ahead to Nairobi the next day.

Eldoret – Wall of champions

Driving into the city, we were both quite surprised at how smart and modern everything looked. I think due its reputation we’d expected nothing more than some slum-ridden hole and as we drove into Karen to find the legendary campsite Jungle-Junction, the tree-lined streets could have been taken straight out of Richmond! Jungle-Junction is famous amongst overlanders – the central must-stop place to re-stock and repair before heading either north or south. As a famous cross-roads, it also means overlanders can swap valuable information about the ‘other side’ as well as finding new buddies to travel with on the lesser known roads. However, being low season and with problems in North Africa putting off many, we were disappointed to find that the usually busy campsite was pretty empty, just us and an Austrian couple, who are also heading north but at a slower pace. We spent the evening discussing strategies for the next few days and working out which embassy to tackle first.

And so the visa dance began. A trip to the British Embassy for a letter of introduction to the Sudanese embassy, because a passport is not verification enough? 3 hours later, and 50quid down, (yes, 50 whole British pounds for a letter confirming our names and passport number!) we left with our letter. Of course, this took us past 12pm, which meant that visa application hours at both the Sudanese and Ethiopian embassies had closed, so we headed back to camp. Day 2, we left at 8am and took 2hours to travel the 8km into town. We decided to take on the Ethiopian embassy first as the ambassador, according to many overlanders, is a face-tattooed witch who takes great pleasure in watching people lose all dignity by running them round in circles and then grovel at her feet for a visa. We had also been warned by other overlanders that this face-tattooed (yes, a crucifix is tattooed onto her forehead wish I had a photo!) is also a man-hater, so must only be approached by women. On this good advice, Richard was left to ponder his fate outside, while I tackled the witch alone. I must have danced for her well, as after a long interrogation about every single stamp in my passport and the third time of being sent for more copies of different paperwork she signed the application form and told us to come back after lunch with a receipt showing we’d made the payment at the bank round the corner. Lunch breaks at embassies are 2hours long, so we loitered around outside, hoping not to get car-jacked until their excessively long sandwich break was over. Returning triumphantly with our bank receipts, the clerk handed over our passports with the golden tickets to Ethiopia inside. Win!

Exhausted we headed back to JJ’s to compare notes with our Austrian friends, who’d similarly had success with their Sudanese visa. We swapped notes and prepared to tackle the next embassy the following day. We all headed to bed early, resting up for another day of visa hunting, but let’s just say that night we realised that the security at Jungle-Junction was far from adequate for a city like Nairobi and the next day we all packed up and moved onto a much nicer, secure camp called Wildebeest Eco Lodge which is run by a pair of Ozzies!

It took 4 full days of driving round Nairobi to get the visas for Ethiopia and Sudan sorted, we were exhausted! Once the visas were firmly embedded in our passports, it was back to Jungle Junction during the day to give the car a full service, changing filters and all fluids as well as a good clean out to ensure she is in tip top shape for the next adventure. Once all the jobs were finished, we treated ourselves to a trip to the David Sheldrick Wildlife Trust, a charity which provides care for orphaned baby elephants until they are old enough to be re-introduced to the wild. It was amazing to see the keepers feeding and interacting with the babies, who now seem them as their ‘mothers’. The project is incredibly successful in reintroducing the elephants as well as continuing the fight against poachers, I just read the British Army are now going to provide more support which is fantastic news.

We are still in Nairobi, the lovely Wildebeest is a sanctuary I’m reluctant to leave! We are waiting for our replacement shocks, provided by RAW 4×4 in Australia (thank you for your continued support!) to arrive before we can head off north. We have decided to take the most direct route along the Marsabit to Moyale road, the one part of the trip that we’ve not been looking forward to and with the rains about to arrive any day, we will be very happy to finally leave Kenya and get to Ethiopia!