Osadabwa
Race Dog
Our plan was to get off the highlands and back down into the Rift Valley. Unbelievably, though born and raised in Kenya, Bwana has never been to the top of Mt. Suswa, so it was my turn to show him something new. First, though, he wanted to take a small detour down to see the ruins of the original Kenton College prep school (a colonial relic built near Kijabe Hill in 1924 on the site of a former German Sanatorium… I Googled it, Bwana) and take in the view from Kijabe Hill, a grassy knob separated from the escarpment, staring straight at Mt. Longonot and Lake Naivasha where paragliders catch updrafts.
Above: Paraglider Hill in the background
It was obvious someone took care to make things well back in the day. A shack, clad in humble corrugated iron sheets still stands, faded decorative wooden trim and all. The large structures at Kenton have almost completely returned to the earth, however. A process I’ve always regretted… someone needs a brick for their house, so they take one. Maybe some roofing sheets? Go ahead, it doesn’t belong to anybody. Before you know it, Roman Marble adorns St. Peter’s and Kenton College holds up a duka selling tomatoes. Alas.
Above: The remains of Kenton College Prep School, Kijabe
Having sufficiently tripped through history, it was time to scale the Hill. Bwana wasn’t sure, but he reckoned there was a road to the top (something easily verifiable with Google Maps or asking chaps along the way, but why bother) so we began our ascent. The road was big, then less big, then it was a track, then it was no more. But we’d committed, and actually I was enjoying the challenge. We were attempting to ascend in a cork-screw fashion through the grass, occasionally stumbling upon a thin goat path. The views of the valley below were stunning, and the Pigs were grunting happily along, all torque and thump.
Above: Bwana on the corkscrew when it was still a path
Above: On the corkscrew, but no longer a path
Above: Amazing view through the haze over the rim of Mt. Longonot
We were making decent progress for a while, but the vegetation and topography turned against us. Initially, the ground cover was low grass and the hill was less steep. Having gone all the way to the other side of the hill, however, we found a rather different situation. Large tufts of tussock grass made it almost impossible to keep riding, and the angle of the slope had increased noticeably… It would have been a fine intermediate ski slope in other climates.
Above: Bwana contemplating next moves
Above: Bwana on the horizon, coming through the tussock
Eventually, we had to turn back… a maneuver easier said than done. I decided it was best to just point the bike downhill and ride a smooth arc back the way I’d come. Bounding over the tussock, I managed, but the prospect of getting it wrong had my heart in my throat. Not wanting to abandon the summit, I stubbornly summoned my strength, found a place with decent footing and aimed straight up. Thumping along avoiding rocks and shrubs and generally holding on for dear life, I found a flattish spot and took a rest with the summit in view. It took awhile before Bwana emerged over the knoll – he’d taken a more direct route through some stones – but before long we’d both scrambled our way to the summit where we celebrated by taking in the view and munching a Camembert and avocado baguette.
Above: Smiles at the summit!
We didn't see anybody paragliding, but here's a video somebody took from that exact spot. Shows the hill very well.
[youtube]https://youtu.be/MlfeE1n2qCA[/youtube]
It had been hard going, and we were knackered. By now we knew we wouldn’t reach Mt. Suswa, so we decided to descend the hill and see if we could ride down to the road below. Again, the road was good, then it was not, then it was no more. At some point it became clear that the only choice was to continue descending, because the prospect of climbing back the way we’d come was unthinkable, so we pressed on. Eventually, we spotted the railway, which in a pinch could be our lifeline out (if, of course, the train didn’t come), but reaching it, we decided to jump across and keep following the fall line.
Above: Either Bwana is listening for a train, or planning to do himself in
I crossed the tracks first and essentially fell off the other side into a hell of rolling bowling-ball sized and bigger rocks. Goats and erosion had fooled me into believing it was a track. It was tough going. I tried all the proper riding techniques, but just couldn’t keep on two wheels. I’d roll up on a rock with my rear tire and it would promptly roll sideways, knocking me off balance and into some other obstacle. To make matters worse, I looked up and saw Bwana toodling off in another direction, having obviously found a much easier track!
Above: My rock garden descent… ain’t no picnic on a Pig, but I did it!
Separated, it took us a minute to figure out where the other was. I eventually connected to a lovely singletrack and descended down to the valley floor where Bwana was waiting. It was after 2pm, we’d gone less than 90 km and we were totally shot. It was time for a drink so we bee-lined it for Mai Mahiu and took a load off.
Above: Arrived alive
At 3pm, it was time to part ways. I for Nairobi, Bwana back up the hill. I had two choices: Take the tarmac and be home in an hour, or ride the dirt of the valley and be home in two. I took the latter, without hesitation. Knackered as I was, I will always ride dirt if given the chance, and it was well worth it. The road I picked had been essentially abandoned since the Chinese have improved a more direct ,parallel one, so I was all alone.It was essentially smooth sandy hard-pack, so I could just fly. The sinuous flow of the road reminded me of a late season skiing in Jackson Hole... making my way to the top of Rendezvous peak and skiing the whole 5000 vertical feet to the bottom in one long go, carving through slushy moguls down the Hobacks all the way, alone apart from the afternoon sunshine. Brilliant.
Above: Afternoon valley view
Home at 5pm, 200km in the day, fully satisfied and still buzzing.
:snorting:
Above: Paraglider Hill in the background
It was obvious someone took care to make things well back in the day. A shack, clad in humble corrugated iron sheets still stands, faded decorative wooden trim and all. The large structures at Kenton have almost completely returned to the earth, however. A process I’ve always regretted… someone needs a brick for their house, so they take one. Maybe some roofing sheets? Go ahead, it doesn’t belong to anybody. Before you know it, Roman Marble adorns St. Peter’s and Kenton College holds up a duka selling tomatoes. Alas.
Above: The remains of Kenton College Prep School, Kijabe
Having sufficiently tripped through history, it was time to scale the Hill. Bwana wasn’t sure, but he reckoned there was a road to the top (something easily verifiable with Google Maps or asking chaps along the way, but why bother) so we began our ascent. The road was big, then less big, then it was a track, then it was no more. But we’d committed, and actually I was enjoying the challenge. We were attempting to ascend in a cork-screw fashion through the grass, occasionally stumbling upon a thin goat path. The views of the valley below were stunning, and the Pigs were grunting happily along, all torque and thump.
Above: Bwana on the corkscrew when it was still a path
Above: On the corkscrew, but no longer a path
Above: Amazing view through the haze over the rim of Mt. Longonot
We were making decent progress for a while, but the vegetation and topography turned against us. Initially, the ground cover was low grass and the hill was less steep. Having gone all the way to the other side of the hill, however, we found a rather different situation. Large tufts of tussock grass made it almost impossible to keep riding, and the angle of the slope had increased noticeably… It would have been a fine intermediate ski slope in other climates.
Above: Bwana contemplating next moves
Above: Bwana on the horizon, coming through the tussock
Eventually, we had to turn back… a maneuver easier said than done. I decided it was best to just point the bike downhill and ride a smooth arc back the way I’d come. Bounding over the tussock, I managed, but the prospect of getting it wrong had my heart in my throat. Not wanting to abandon the summit, I stubbornly summoned my strength, found a place with decent footing and aimed straight up. Thumping along avoiding rocks and shrubs and generally holding on for dear life, I found a flattish spot and took a rest with the summit in view. It took awhile before Bwana emerged over the knoll – he’d taken a more direct route through some stones – but before long we’d both scrambled our way to the summit where we celebrated by taking in the view and munching a Camembert and avocado baguette.
Above: Smiles at the summit!
We didn't see anybody paragliding, but here's a video somebody took from that exact spot. Shows the hill very well.
[youtube]https://youtu.be/MlfeE1n2qCA[/youtube]
It had been hard going, and we were knackered. By now we knew we wouldn’t reach Mt. Suswa, so we decided to descend the hill and see if we could ride down to the road below. Again, the road was good, then it was not, then it was no more. At some point it became clear that the only choice was to continue descending, because the prospect of climbing back the way we’d come was unthinkable, so we pressed on. Eventually, we spotted the railway, which in a pinch could be our lifeline out (if, of course, the train didn’t come), but reaching it, we decided to jump across and keep following the fall line.
Above: Either Bwana is listening for a train, or planning to do himself in
I crossed the tracks first and essentially fell off the other side into a hell of rolling bowling-ball sized and bigger rocks. Goats and erosion had fooled me into believing it was a track. It was tough going. I tried all the proper riding techniques, but just couldn’t keep on two wheels. I’d roll up on a rock with my rear tire and it would promptly roll sideways, knocking me off balance and into some other obstacle. To make matters worse, I looked up and saw Bwana toodling off in another direction, having obviously found a much easier track!
Above: My rock garden descent… ain’t no picnic on a Pig, but I did it!
Separated, it took us a minute to figure out where the other was. I eventually connected to a lovely singletrack and descended down to the valley floor where Bwana was waiting. It was after 2pm, we’d gone less than 90 km and we were totally shot. It was time for a drink so we bee-lined it for Mai Mahiu and took a load off.
Above: Arrived alive
At 3pm, it was time to part ways. I for Nairobi, Bwana back up the hill. I had two choices: Take the tarmac and be home in an hour, or ride the dirt of the valley and be home in two. I took the latter, without hesitation. Knackered as I was, I will always ride dirt if given the chance, and it was well worth it. The road I picked had been essentially abandoned since the Chinese have improved a more direct ,parallel one, so I was all alone.It was essentially smooth sandy hard-pack, so I could just fly. The sinuous flow of the road reminded me of a late season skiing in Jackson Hole... making my way to the top of Rendezvous peak and skiing the whole 5000 vertical feet to the bottom in one long go, carving through slushy moguls down the Hobacks all the way, alone apart from the afternoon sunshine. Brilliant.
Above: Afternoon valley view
Home at 5pm, 200km in the day, fully satisfied and still buzzing.
:snorting:
ot:
