The Great Rift Valley II: The Sounds of Life on Earth

Astrid and Erick, a French couple aged (by my estimates) in their ‘50s, manage a 25-acre plot of land in Subukia, which is a place in the middle of nowhere in the middle of the planet. I know it’s in the middle of nowhere because I’ve been there. I know it’s in the middle of the planet because we crossed the equator five times in the last couple of kilometers leading to their property.

[Astrid’s English is stronger than Erick’s, though his is not bad either. On occasion he struggles for a word, but only ever so momentarily, before simply replacing the offending word with a whistle and proceeding. We wondered, for instance, whether we could mountain bike up to the view point. “You can,” he said, “but it’s dangerous, you know, because the matatus they come like this and then they… [whistle]… and you might get… [whistle].”]

On this property, this couple has built half-a-dozen traditional bandas, dug a man-made lake and introduced a range of farm animals to complement the few wild animals that already exist. It really is a veritable animal farm, complete with horses, cows, dogs (both of the playful-docile and vicious-guard variety), chicken, sheep, black monkeys, white colobus, and various species of insect, bird and fish. On the lake sits a cozy little restaurant where head chef Charles prepares an array of delicious, gourmet-standard dishes. While eating, if you’re lucky, you can spot a river otter hunt for fish.

This is a wonderful place to get away from it all for a few days.

The experience that lingers most is hearing the sounds of life on earth. When you’re in the middle of nowhere you can hear these sounds around the clock: crickets chirping, creeks rolling, birds squawking, insects buzzing, cows mooing, sheep bleating, and roosters cock-a-doodling. You can even ‘hear’ a fresh breeze. It’s an orchestra of nature that stands in stark contrast to the sounds of life in the urban metropolises – cars honking, phones ringing, engines revving and televisions blaring – that have largely informed my life to date.

Living in urban centres one, of course, takes a lot of things for granted. Like electricity. Then Erick explained how he got electricity for this property. Upon request to the local authorities he was quoted 8m Kenyan Shillings. He refused and as he walked away the price fell to 2m KES. He continued walking and instead installed a series of solar panels. For $0.5m KES he was able to put it all in place and do a great deal of good for the environment.

The Great Rift Valley I: Climbing Mt. Longonot

The Great Rift Valley is a continuous geographic trough, some 6,000km long running from northern Syria all the way down to central Mozambique. Cutting a swathe through Kenya it is a visually stunning naturescape. There are numerous vantage points from which one can appreciate the majesty of the valley, and I’ve checked-out a few. Today, I introduce you to the first: Mt. Longonot.

Peaking at 2,780m above sea level, Mt. Longonot is a fairly easy climb (i.e. one doesn’t have to be an experienced mountaineer) though at the same time a very thorough workout. It’s a workout in two. Part one involves climbing to the top of the mountain, which can take 45-90 minutes depending on level of fitness. Part two, not so common, then involves walking around the top of the mountain. For, you see, Mt. Longonot is a dormant volcano, so by ‘top’ I really mean the edge of rim, which surrounds a giant hollow. The walk around the rim, heavily arduous at times and rather precarious throughout, can take up to three hours itself. So the whole hike = 5-6 hours, 8-9km.

The volcano is thought to have last erupted in the 1860s – not so long ago at all. Today the crater floor is covered with a forest of small trees. Once or twice I thought a small fire was starting somewhere down there, but the old adage proved untrue: where there’s smoke sometimes there’s a small steam vent.

Here are some random things I learnt during the climb:

1. There’s a chance of running into an unfriendly predator most anywhere in Kenya. As we made our way up the mountain, and then around its rim, we intermittently had to sidesteps mounds of poop. I kept wondering (worrying?): ‘What the hell is up here?’ The mountain, it turns out, is home to various species of wildlife (though we didn’t see any on our trip), notably zebra and giraffe and buffaloes. Surprisingly it’s buffalo poop that dots the top of the rim! Of course, where there are herbivores there are… Leopards are known to roam the area, though thankfully we encountered none.

2. Climbing mountains feels awesome… AFTER you’re done! It can be a hateful experience during. I’ve experienced it previously and yet the feeling of exhilaration post-conquest keeps me going back for more. I’m now seriously considering a jaunt up Kili, but let’s see…

3. Maybe tourist destinations should charge locals more. Kenya, like many countries, charges foreigners significantly more than locals to visit certain popular tourist destinations. At Longonot I paid $20, while my local friend paid $2. Some places in India have a similar price discrimination policy. But my experience in India – and now in Kenya – is that generally it’s the locals that treat the natural beauty with disrespect. In Ladakh, India, for instance, we found locals throwing all manner of rubbish out of car windows onto beautiful snow-capped peaks and valleys. At Longonot, too, local climbers left rubbish – chip packets, water bottles, etc – strewn haphazardly, while foreign visitors not only held on until discovery of a bin, but even picked-up after locals. Now, I am being partially facetious, of course. I appreciate the economic argument for this price discrimination. But episodes such as this make you wonder about the merits of reverse discrimination.

4. Climbing a mountain is tough enough, but when you marry a mountain with a beach, it is even harder. More than half the full trek is on very sandy turf, approximating beach conditions. And since large stretches have no prescribed path, the sand tends to make its way into, amongst other places, your shoes, socks, mouth, nose, ears and eyes. This is an unnecessary additional challenge to an already tough climb.

As you walk around the top you get splendid views not only of the enormous crater that sits below your feet, but also of the magnificent Great Rift Valley. The air is fresh and the winter sun just perfect. Standing there you look around and know that not much has really changed for thousands of years. The same landscape that greeted a climber 10,000 years ago and a climber 10 years ago, also greets me today. The only difference, I guess, is that whereas past climbers had to go back down to tell their friends about it, today the top of Mt. Longonot (like all of Kenya and pretty much most parts of the world) offers 5 bars on one’s cell phone.