This is the third instalment of a four-month trans-Africa trip from Johannesburg to London that I did with Exodus Expeditions in 1980, travelling by truck and camping. We were not sightseeing, though we did see some incredible sights. Our goal was simply to get through Africa by whatever route was open. You can read the first instalment here, and the second here.

Nairobi is a blur. We’re hardly there at all, and there’s no time for sightseeing. It’s most of a day’s drive from Arusha in Tanzania, through the border and into Kenya, and then straight north to Nairobi, Kenya’s capital and biggest city. We stay a couple of nights in a hotel, parking the truck in the hotel grounds. We pick up four more people making a total of ten of us, plus Craig, our expedition leader, and Brett, the co-driver.

After already being on the road together for over three weeks, the six of us have settled into a routine, and have begun getting to know each other. Four more seems like a lot; the truck feels smaller.

I have two enduring memories of Nairobi. The first is of Helen, one of the new people, dressed in a designer safari suit, waltzing up to the back of the truck and announcing I’d like a non-smoking seat please. I’m astonished none of us actually laugh out loud. It’s a noteworthy beginning.

The name Nairobi comes from the Maasai phrase Enkare Nairobi, meaning ‘place of cool waters’, but it is anything but cool for us. My second memory is of a frenzied shopping trip. We’re taken to the main shopping area, pointed towards some shops, and with little knowledge, and less experience, we shop for bulk non-perishable food to augment what’s already on the truck. The assignment is to get as much as we can that will fit into the storage lockers, as it will be many weeks before we have such an opportunity again. Flour, sugar, canned goods, tea bags, instant coffee, milk powder, the list goes on and on. I try to gather together whatever I can to make granola.

Later that day we’re off, out of town as fast as we can, heading northwest to the game parks.

I want to get my disappointment out of the way first. We don’t go to Ngorongoro or Serengeti in Tanzania, and we also don’t go to Maasai Mara in Kenya. These three, with good reason, are the most renowned wildlife reserves in Africa, and the places that attract the most wildlife, and the most tourists. This was as true in 1980 as it is today, though the tourist numbers are vastly different. All three are quite a distance west from the main road north from Arusha to Nairobi, and we’re bound by the date we need to be in Nairobi to pick up the four people who are joining us there. Even so, I remember Craig’s comment to us – something along the lines of: we could go to the big game parks and see many animals, along with many tourists, or we could go to more remote places where we’ll be really lucky if we see a lion. Wait, what? No! Take me to where we’ll see the most wildlife! And yes, in Meru National Park we do indeed see a half-hidden single lounging lion, resting in the shade of an acacia tree a few hundred metres away. Lucky us.





I would rather have gone to one of the bigger parks, even if there were other tourists there. I still feel a bit cheated.

But now for the good stuff.

By late afternoon we’ve set up camp in Lake Nakuru National Park down on the floor of the Great Rift Valley. A rift valley is a crack in the earth’s surface, and the one in Africa is the biggest in the world, extending from Jordan to Mozambique, a distance of 6,400 kilometres (4,000 miles). The earth’s tectonic forces are trying to create new plates by splitting apart old ones; the valley is created by tectonic forces rather than by erosional forces as most valleys are. But all I know is that it seems as if I’ve been hearing about this mythical place since childhood – the Great Rift Valley – and here I am at last, first looking over it,





and then down in it. We’re surrounded by bushy grassland and wooded areas. And wildlife! Look, a marabou stork! And over there, sitting, appropriately, on a rock, there’s a rock hyrax! In the thick grasses we see impalas, and water buck,





and preening in the lake





a whole long row of cormorants on a log, and pelicans, and a group of wild pink flamingos, dainty ballerinas with long legs and big beaks.

There’s no one around but us. We’re camped in the wilderness a world way in both time and space from towns and cities and Africa Safari tours.

From time to time we see groups of Maasai. They are a tourist curiosity, though not like they are today. Back then they knew they could sell their beadwork and carvings to foreigners in the towns and villages, but they were still living a largely tribal life, a pastoralist society with settlements mainly in northern Tanzania and southern Kenya. I’m too shy to photograph them; it feels intrusive, disrespectful. I buy postcards instead.





Thomson’s Falls, 74 metres of thundering sparkling beauty, is only a couple of hours from Lake Nakuru and we stop there for lunch,





but the real stars of this show are the chameleons! There are no touts, like I hear there are today, but just a local lad who shows them to us, or maybe it’s Craig, who’s been up and down Africa on the overland route for years and knows things. Anyway we’re all fascinated. Of all the things I thought I’d see in Africa, a chameleon was not one of them.








And then we’re piling back into the truck again for the long drive east to Meru National Park. Even today Meru is largely unspoilt.

We are all in the truck, and paying very close attention. The tension is palpable. We’ve been watching a group of ellies, but it now seems like a big bull may not be so pleased with us and looks like it might charge. Even a truck the size we have is no match for an angry bull elephant. Craig backs the truck slowly away, and we’re all watching, and watching, waiting, holding our breath; slowly, so slowly, moving away. Finally the elephant decides we’re not worth the trouble. Phew, that was close. With a collective in-breath we all remember breathe again.





I will never tire of the surreal experience of wild camping and seeing a giraffe wander by my tent.





Over a couple of days at Meru we see grazing buffalo, herds of zebras and impalas, and a couple of rhinos.





The park is teeming with wildlife, and travelling the dirt roads we become somehow an integral part of it. It’s remote and rugged and unspoilt, and we live our days, and nights, immersed in the landscape.





A half-day drive to the north we come to Samburu National Reserve, with its distinctive Doum palms,





and across the Ewaso Ng’iro River, its twin, Buffalo Springs National Reserve.





Here we see more ellies





and more zebras,





and every wildlife sighting feels like a surprising magical gift.

There’s another heart-stopping moment when it looks like a group of baboons might jump onto, and worse, into the truck, but fortunately they leave us alone and pass on by.





And we get to have afternoon tea at Samburu Lodge. Such civilization! A real table and chairs, and bathrooms!





We are in the land of the Samburu, who share many traditions and customs with the Maasai. Like the Maasai they are pastoralists raising cattle, sheep, goats, and camels.


From a postcard




Heading north now, we drive for two or three days straight, getting the miles behind us. We’re aiming for Eliye Springs and the shores of the great Lake Turkana in northern Kenya, at the northern end of the Kenyan Rift Valley. It is the world’s largest permanent desert lake. It is also known as the Jade Sea, and to the Samburu as Basso Narok, meaning Black Lake.

The land becomes more arid, dotted with giant anthills.





For the first time we come into the land of the Turkana people, living in the remote far north of Kenya. They seem almost untouched by the outside world. And even though Eliye Springs is a bit of a backpacker and overland mecca, we must still appear as strange oddities to them.








We pass by Turkana villages with their characteristic thatch bomas constructed from Doum palm leaves.








Like the Maasai, the livelihood of the Turkana is dependent on their livestock. They raise camels, along with goats, cattle, and donkeys,





and live completely off the animals’ produce (milk, blood, skins and meat). Any money made from the selling of livestock is used to buy goods such as maize, beans, sugar, tobacco, and vegetables. Things have changed somewhat of course; there are now small buildings, and irrigation systems for farming. The town of Lodwar, being the gateway to Eliye Springs, has become more developed.

From Lodwar we travel north for a bit then turn east onto a long stretch of uninhabited dusty sandy dirt road; even today it’s a bumpy ride to Eliye Springs at Lake Turkana. We really have no idea where we’re going, or what we’re going to, but after a couple of hours we pass through the remote village of Eliye Springs and soon after arrive in heaven!

Two whole days in heaven; gentle waves lap the shore, the long grove of palms provide shade, blue water before us, blue sky above. We pitch our tents on the almost deserted beach and settle in. There are some very basic facilities, but they are enough for us.





We get clean, we swim in the clear soothing water, we laze, we soak up warmth and idleness and dazzling sunsets. This lake is a major breeding ground for Nile crocodiles, and the shores are home to scorpions and carpet vipers, but since we do not know this there is nothing to disturb our peace.





Two days later, from Eliye Springs we drive northwest to the border with Sudan (before South Sudan existed as a separate country). We are as far north as we plan to go. From the border we head west.








Next post: Housekeeping – how we make it all work, from cooking to food shopping and stocks, to meal clean up, to staying healthy and clean. How we get firewood and safe drinking water. All the details of how we keep a life on the road functioning. The post following that will be about Sudan.



Disclosure:
1. I’ve changed the names of everyone involved for privacy
2. Obviously any photo with me in it was taken by another member of the group, but I’ve no idea who.







All words and images by Alison Louise Armstrong unless otherwise noted
© Alison Louise Armstrong and Adventures in Wonderland – a pilgrimage of the heart, 2010-2024.