Hell’s Gate National Park It felt good to be out in nature again. Hiring mountain bikes and taking them for a spin as warthogs scuttled in the long grasses beside the track. I couldn’t help but thing of pumbaa in the Lion King, and sing to myself “…when I was a young warthog…”. Sad, I know. As you enter the national park, a column of rock—Fischer’s Tower—rises out of the plains. I had to have a boulder around, despite wearing heavy hiking boots and soloing up a little too high. It felt good to touch rock again. I am starting to realise I miss certain things… At the other end of the national park the earth opens up and one can descend into the Masai land of Ol Njorwa, the Lower Gorge. The change in landscape is dramatic, as hot water seeps out of the rock in this area of geothermal activity. Walking through with a Masai guide from the local community, he points out the plants that provide natural remedies. Riding back from the park to the camp, the road is lined by small children from the flower-growing communities that have sprouted up here. “How are you? How are you?” choruses out as we cycle past. Two days ago I was in another world.

Hell’s Gate National Park

It felt good to be out in nature again. Hiring mountain bikes and taking them for a spin as warthogs scuttled in the long grasses beside the track. I couldn’t help but thing of pumbaa in the Lion King, and sing to myself “…when I was a young warthog…”. Sad, I know.

As you enter the national park, a column of rock—Fischer’s Tower—rises out of the plains. I had to have a boulder around, despite wearing heavy hiking boots and soloing up a little too high. It felt good to touch rock again. I am starting to realise I miss certain things…

At the other end of the national park the earth opens up and one can descend into the Masai land of Ol Njorwa, the Lower Gorge. The change in landscape is dramatic, as hot water seeps out of the rock in this area of geothermal activity. Walking through with a Masai guide from the local community, he points out the plants that provide natural remedies.

Riding back from the park to the camp, the road is lined by small children from the flower-growing communities that have sprouted up here. “How are you? How are you?” choruses out as we cycle past. Two days ago I was in another world.