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February 9th – 16th, 2022

Across the Chalbi

In the morning we packed up from our beach camp at Koobi Fora in Sibiloi National Park. We were headed to the oasis of Kalacha, half way across the northern fringe of the Chalbi Desert. There weren’t really any specific sights to see today, just a journey to make and a bleak beauty to absorb. 

Danson, the Koobi Fora manager, consulted on our route. He advised we take the Karsa gate out of park, then to take the desert track as opposed to the “main” road to Kalacha. He also told us that there is a curfew for security in Marsabit and that under no circumstances should we put ourselves in a position to make a late arrival in Marsabit. The curfew goes into effect at 1800, and to underscore the seriousness he said that even the boda boda drivers, known for their wanton attitude towards their own safety, finish their business and are off the roads by around 1700. 

This seemed a bit ominous. In retrospect I wished I’d asked what was happening in those hours of darkness, but we just accepted it. The original plan was a one night stopover at Kalacha and then to go to Marsabit National Park, which would also mark our return to main tar roads and reliable fuel. We’d just take it one day at a time. 

When we checked out of the Karsa gate the rangers confirmed Danson’s concerns about Marsabit, but said the route through the desert was fine. We need not worry on that front. 

Just outside the gate we saw a large herd of northern topi, heading for the lake. It was nice to see some wildlife present out here. We had heard that there is better wildlife in the south of the park near Allia Bay, where we didn’t go, and here was some evidence of that.

The initial stretches of the road out were the same we’d covered heading into the park, slow going on rocky tracks, through dry riverbeds and across rocky fields. The little wildflowers persisted, and it was scenic. At a junction, marked by a bullet pockmarked KWS sign for Sibiloi,  we entered new territory. This was a gravel road, and we were able to pick up the pace a bit for the first time.

Heading into the sun the track brought us closer to the desert. Rocks, sand, sparse dry scrubland. We’d see a smattering of huts on occasion, pastoralists making a hard living on the fringes of the desert.

Then we started seeing camels. Large herds of camels and goats, and we knew there must be water nearby. There were a few herders around, sometimes we’d get a casual wave. Some of the camel herds numbered in the hundreds and were using the road. Slowly the LandCruiser would part the herds, coaxing them out of the way. In that particular herd the herdsman were armed with AK-47s, but they hardly gave us a glance.

Days later we were camped next to some Kenyans that had experience in the north. They said that a lot of those armed men are contracted herders, that those are not their camels. Some wealthy people hold large amounts of wealth in camels, and these herders were responsible for protecting that wealth, with force if necessary. A study from 2016 established that camels can sell for 40,000-100,000 shillings, topping out at almost $900 USD. Multiply that by the hundreds of camels in front of us, and we had been looking at a lot of money.

These pastoral bankers paid us no heed, their AKs slung over their shoulders as they walked slowly through the desert. Jenny remarked that carrying a heavy weapon like that through the heat of the day must be exhausting.

Eventually we got to the desert proper. To us it looked like a dry lake bed, hard baked in the sun and fractured into millions of pieces. Two tire tracks make a stripe across this very flat, very empty plain and we zoomed across the barren land feeling like we might be in the Sahara.

I tried not to think too much about what would happen if the vehicle broke down, but the needle of the temperature gauge stayed planted, and with luxurious air conditioning blasting, the Cruiser ran on without complaint. I love this car.

We made it to the landmark town of North Horr, a hot, dusty and melancholic looking town. Aid workers plied the dusty streets in LandCruisers emblazoned with their logos, and locals gave us curious and not all together friendly looks.

By late afternoon the GPS guided us to Kalacha. Kalacha is an oasis town, and I mean a proper oasis. From the hard baked earth of the desert we could see clusters of palms in the distance. The GPS had the roads wrong, but after a lucky guess we found ourselves rolling into the oasis, thick stands of palms feeding on underground water, and at the epicenter an actual spring flowing out of the desert ground. 

Chiefly, the spring was being used to water animals and thus had a fair amount of dung around it. This detracted a little from the romantic desert oasis vision, but otherwise the image was complete. The spring water wandered through a clearing between the palms. Goats, camels and donkeys were here to drink, their herders chatting in the shade. 

The Kalacha Oasis

Where to stay here was something of a mystery. We’d heard of a simple guesthouse in the town, but also about a place that was near the springs which lie south of the settlement. Camp Kalacha, by the springs, did turn out to actually exist, though diminished from its already modest past. It is under renovation, slowly. To our surprise they actually have two swimming pools, and one even had water in it. 

We were invited to camp under a nearby tree at the edge of the spring. There was no bathroom or toilet facilities here at all. The only amenity was, oddly, the pool. Not an amenity you normally get before a toilet.  

This desert oasis was quite a picture, animals feeding and loads of birds coming to drink, all ringed by palms. We just sat and pondered that this place existed and how we had come to be here.

The pool was being attended by friends of one of the staff, some guys in their 20s having a good old time. They were keen to chat. They spoke excellent english and were well informed, telling me about the drought, climate change, how Kalacha was a friendly and safe place and how it was doing better than other surrounding settlements because of the spring.

Jenny inspects the facilities. Not one, but two swimming pools. The second looked alright actually.

They were also very curious about our story. I asked advice about the road ahead, and this generated a lot of discussion. I was concerned when they told me of security issues on the road to Marsabit. “There are bandits on that road, very bad people.”, “You must be careful.” 

Uh, bandits?

Bandit is not really a word in use in our lexicon. Talk of bandits and cattle rustling can’t help but conjure up images of the American Wild West. I thought there must be a better word than “bandit”, more serious and less Hollywood. The thesaurus however offers no better: robber, highwaymen, brigand, freebooter, outlaw, desperado, gunman, gangster, looter, footpad. None of these offered any improvement. Maybe the local word, shifta?

They advised either leaving very early in the morning, with the 0300 convoy of busses and taxis from North Horr, or alternatively taking a police escort. They seemed serious, and we certainly would proceed carefully. Later in the discussion our council of locals backed down a little bit, saying that tourists would not be targets, but that mistakes get made. They followed up by saying we should at least ask the police and they would tell us if an escort was necessary, which seemed good and practical advice.

After dusk the animals, herders and our advisors all went home. We had the oasis to ourselves, save an old man serving as night watchmen, standing guard by the swimming pool.

I slept with images of bandits, shiftas and wild west highwaymen in my head.

Given the warnings about the road ahead we rose before dawn to get a jump start on the bandit situation. For our efforts we were treated with a nice sunrise over the palms. It was early and we had the oasis to ourselves, beautiful palms highlighted in the glow of dawn light. 

I was a little anxious about the warnings we’d received, but Jenny was her usual sublime self. She put her faith in what we’d always heard about this kind of thing, that if the security situation was bad the police would prevent us from proceeding headlong into danger. On the other hand, I recalled the words of a childhood friend’s father, “Don’t die in a way that embarrasses me.” Such as heading into bandit territory, having been forewarned, only because it was shorter than backtracking. 

I held onto a latent hope that bandits don’t get an early start in the morning, tuckered out from the previous day’s brigandry. Tendrils of sunrise were still lingering as we headed off into the desert. 

Initially the road was excellent, and we zoomed across the Chalbi, clouds of fine brown dust rising high into the air behind us (and alerting the bandits we are coming). I am being melodramatic, but rolling across featureless plains had brought on a meditative state, and I couldn’t help my mind wandering into the macabre.  

Our advisors from Kalacha told us to proceed on the desert road until the village of Maikona, then to get on the “main” road, the C82, to proceed onwards to Marsabit. It was here, around Maikona, that we’d consult with the police on the security situation ahead. 

The desert road was not quite as mapped on Tracks4Africa, but it kinda sorta paralleled a track on the GPS in the right direction, and we forged ahead. This stretch was ostensibly bandit free, and we were relaxed, enjoying the desert, sipping our coffee and tea. 

The road changed to a maze of small tracks as we closed in on Maikona, but this was an, “all roads lead to Rome,” kind of thing, and we found ourselves in a large village. It did not look like tourism was about to take off here, a rocky and desolate town of traditional stick huts and cement block dukas selling a modest inventory. We received a lot of confused looks and a few happy smiles and waves as we rolled through town. 

Police were nowhere to be seen, and we assumed there’d be one of the standard police checkpoints once we reached the C32. A kilometer or two past the village we merged with this main road and found no checkpoint. I was driving, and we’d agreed it was best to go as quickly as we could safely drive, theorizing that less time on the road is better. As we shuddered down this newer, bigger, more corrugated road we wondered if perhaps we had misunderstood, that there was no checkpoint and we were supposed to have sought out the police at the police station in Maikona. Hmm.

Well, we were committed now. A truck hauled into view coming from the opposite direction, and we waved him down. It was being driven by an old muslim man wearing a taqiyah who was not at all surprised when we asked about the security ahead. He assured us there was no problem, all was quiet. Until Marsabit that is. He advised not stopping there, and definitely not to turn left, (toward Ethiopia), but to turn right and head south. With that he rumbled away in a cloud of dust. 

The news of it being all quiet ahead was very welcome. But we weren’t sure what to make of his take on security in Marsabit. We hoped to eventually meet some police on the way who could clarify. In the meantime we relaxed an octave and settled in to grind out the road ahead.

The scenery wasn’t quite harsh beauty, more just harsh, and the road was punishing too. It was rough corrugations punctuated by a rocky road surface and the occasional pot hole to keep things interesting. We bashed on, not enjoying our “African massage” very much, but we were at least happily ticking off kilometers towards Marsabit. 

Our feeling was probablycompounded by the state of road, but the more we battered our way onward the less we were  excited about Marsabit. Even though we had generally slept well the last week and enjoyed our sojourn to this remote corner of Kenya, we also were coming to terms with the fact that this week had just worn us out a bit. I guess we are not made from as stern a stuff as some other modern explorers.

Marsabit’s attraction is Marsabit National Park, but with all the warnings we’d received about the security situation here we decided we best just keep going. With our early start it would be easy to keep heading south. There was a place to the south called Reteti Elephant Sanctuary, where you can watch feedings of orphaned baby elephants. Feeding baby elephants sounded a lot brighter than shiftas, and police escorts and reports on iOverlander said you could camp there.

Twenty or so kilometers from Marsabit we came upon heavy equipment, a Chinese led road project. It was a big project, with a huge road bed being built and heavy machines everywhere. Where the heck was this road going to? Regardless, we felt that now we were in this busy territory, we were past any threat of bandits, we’d made it. We bumped our way down the final kilometers into Marsabit. 

Marsabit town is more spread out than Isiolo, its neighbor to the south, with broad central streets and well spaced buildings. All looked calm and fairly tidy. After fueling up we consulted with each other and agreed to keep pushing south. The feeling at the time was that our Turkana and Chalbi experiences had gone so smoothly why mess it up by risking a security situation here? And watching orphaned elephants getting fed seemed like food for the soul.

We were back on the A2 now, pristine tarmac and no traffic, heading back south. There were a number of police and military roadblocks on the way out of town. They all asked us where we were going, no doubt to evaluate whether they’d have to keep an eye on us or not. When we said we were headed towards Samburu, they visibly relaxed and waived us on. We didn’t think to ask them about the security situation. I regret not confirming the security rumors we’d heard from others with the authorities.

Kilometers rolled under our tires quickly and easily. All was well until, unfortunately, our destination, the Reteti Elephant Sanctuary, informed us on WhatsApp that they no longer have camping. A ways further south our plan B, Ngare Ndare Forest Reserve, also fell apart as they were fully booked. Fully booked, don’t they know it’s a pandemic? This isn’t something we’ve had to worry about on the whole trip. Subsequently we learned this was because of the Naivasha Car Rally. 

This sent Jenny into a tizzy, plumbing the depths of iOverlander and Tracks4Africa for where to go. There were a lot of high end lodges, too expensive, and a lot of places that looked not all that good. One of our goals was to visit Mt. Kenya, looming ahead already, but all the places to stay on this side of the mountain didn’t seem that great. The one place that did seem nice was the Castle Forest Lodge, just our type of place. It would be a long day on the road, but they had been easy miles, and we decided to just bite the bullet and do it so we could settle in a nice spot for a few days. 

If you are unfamiliar with the area, driving from Kalacha to the Castle Forest Lodge is an idiotic plan, far too great a distance to drive in one day. What can I say? It seemed like a good idea at the time. After passing Nanyuki the traffic set in, and the miles were no longer so easy. Those last few hours were a real grind through heavy traffic and road works.

The final stretch to the Castle Forest Lodge were roads through small tea farms, lush hilly countryside and tall trees, hard to reconcile with the Kalacha Oasis and the Chalbi desert. Had we just been there this morning? 

Castle Forest Lodge is a different world for sure. Vibrantly green, with tall trees and that curious equatorial mix of tropical trees and pines that exist at this elevation. The lodge itself almost has the appearance of a Swiss chalet with a wood shingle roof and smoke drifting out of a stone chimney. The large clearing that forms the grounds of Castle Forest is bright green grass, with a campsite and just out of sight several cabins. 

This is all in the Forest Reserve, but not quite in the Mt. Kenya National Park, meaning that no park fees are required. We stayed here for two nights and thoroughly enjoyed our time in the mountains. 

The evenings were cold and at night you could hear the call of tree hyraxes, surprisingly loud for such a small animal. I wanted to see one but couldn’t find them. The birding here is excellent, proven not only by the prodigious bird life but by the several serious birding tours that were also staying here. They had Kenyan birding guides hired in Nairobi to take them to the ornithological highlights of Kenya.

A pair of Hartlaub’s turacos were frequent visitors at the edge of camp in the morning, and lots of other birds as well. We hiked to the nearby waterfalls, surrounded by jungle.To go further into the forest you need a guide because there are elephants about. Apparently two guests were killed by elephants a while back, so they are quite cautious on this front. No elephants were around during our stay.

On our second day two Kenyan families from Nairobi arrived and camped next to us. We had a really nice afternoon chatting with them. They had done some very interesting traveling in Kenya. Apparently a friend of theirs organizes trucking in Samburu county and now utilizes his logistical connections to organize tours. They had been to the very rarely visited Suguta Valley, accompanied by armed rangers. They’d also been to Turkana and the Chalbi, and we enjoyed swapping stories.

I was scoping out their land cruiser which had some nice gear on it. I asked them about it, and it turns out they founded a company in Nairobi that designs and fabricates 4×4 accessories. They’ve just started out and so far make an awning, drawer system and wheel carrier, but have more products in the works. Ultra Red Outdoors. (https://ultraredoutdoors.com) It’s nice to see locally made products like this here in East Africa.

The mornings were cold and clear here, and we could see the spiky peaks of Mt Kenya in the mornings, before the clouds set in for the day. 

Castle Forest was a nice place to land after Turkana, but after a couple days of being pleasantly cold and birding a little we felt we either needed to get serious and do some guided hiking into the forest reserve or we should move on. Onward we went.

Kembu Cottages, outside Nakuru was our target. The plan was to just relax a bit and do a little catching up with home, blogging, do our laundry and that sort of thing. The drive was a reasonable 270 or so kilometers, but it still seemed to take us all day. The roads were for the most part in good shape, but on none of them can you drive particularly fast. 

The drive is mostly unremarkable, but we did cross the equator twice, making now four times in total we’ve been across the equator on this trip. Jenny and I are both shellbacks from our days at sea, so no hazing was required. 

Just after Nyahururu the road drops down the flank of the rift valley, and the views would have been incredible if it hadn’t been so darn hazy. This dropped us onto the main artery of the country, the A104, full of trucks and traffic heading into and through Nakuru. The road runs right through town, and we were bumper to bumper with huge trucks, with motorcycles and bicycles filling every conceivable gap. 

We took on provisions at the Waterfront Mall in Nakuru, made easy by a Foodplus supermarket. The parking here is secure, and you have to pay 50 shillings (a little less than 50 US cents) to park. I didn’t have change, and while I was trying to find some, a local Kenyan guy insisted on paying for my parking. I was very appreciative of this gesture. From there it was another hour or so to drive to Kembu Cottages. 

Kembu was recommended to us by travelers we met, and we hoped it’d be a nice place to land, to take care of some chores and relax a bit. The Cruiser was due for service, we were tapping the final reserves of our cleanish laundry and I needed to get on the blogging.

If I understand correctly, Kembu is part of Kenana Farm, which has a diverse portfolio of projects; breeding of dairy cows, race horse studding, various crops, self sustaining forestry and also the Kenana Knitters Women’s Group. 

Kembu is run by Andrew and Zoe Nightengale, and they have been busy during the slow times of Covid. In addition to numerous other projects, the new campsite location has new ablutions, which are full bathrooms, the first we’ve had on the trip. These had a door with your own flush toilet, sink and shower and even a place to put your stuff while you’re showering where it won’t get wet (a rarity).

There are several (nine?) cottages around the property as well as the campsite. There was one other group at the campsite. Our neighbors were friendly, some locals from Nairobi who had done some good traveling, including to Turkana. It seems everyone has been to Turkana. We had a good chat with them. It’s great to see middle class Kenyans out and about enjoying their country. In case I haven’t mentioned it before, there is an excellent blog, the kenyancamper.com, promoting independent travel and camping for Kenyans. He is a great writer, down to earth and funny. For example, he refers to his partner as “The Muse” and his child as “The Intern”, fantastic.

Andrew Nightengale stopped by to chat for a while. He explained that the campsite used to be down the hill, but it had been relocated up behind the restaurant to make room for the swimming pool they were putting in, including second nearby pond that would act as a reservoir and natural filter for the main swimming pool

After that he walked us around the property and pointed out all the various things they were working on while also just chatting genially about whatever. Again we were impressed by how diverse a set of projects many of these farmers have. Cottages, restaurant, naturally cleaned swimming pool, local knitters project, nursery of drought resistant plants, tree planting to encourage soil retention and more shade, on and on he went. 

He also gave us a tour of Beryl Markham’s cottage. I confess I had not heard of her, but she was a remarkable woman who, among a very long list of other accomplishments, was the first person to fly solo non-stop from Britain to America. Not the first woman to do this, the first person to do this. She was also one of the very first bush pilots. Born in 1902 in England, she moved with her family to Kenya at the age of four.

She grew up on the adjacent property, and had a small cottage detached from her family’s house (purportedly because she was such a pain in the neck). More recently the cottage was in disrepair, and Andrew Nightengale built a foundation for it on his property, 700m away, and moved it piece by piece to its new location, restoring it in the process. Now it is one of the cottages you can rent. 

Andrew said as a kid he grew up knowing her only as a “gin soaked old dragon” that lived nearby, not realizing until he was older how amazing she was and how she could out shoot, out fly and write better than all the men that came to Kenya to bolster their egos. During our visit I downloaded her autobiography, West With the Night, and started reading it. Her writing is incredible. I began marking pages that had great quotes on them as I read, but it was pointless, as I was marking almost every page.

Hemingway wrote this about her and her book: “Did you read Beryl Markham’s book, West with the Night? …She has written so well, and marvelously well, that I was completely ashamed of myself as a writer. I felt that I was simply a carpenter with words, picking up whatever was furnished on the job and nailing them together and sometimes making an okay pig pen. But this girl, who is to my knowledge very unpleasant and we might even say a high-grade bitch, can write rings around all of us who consider ourselves as writers … it really is a bloody wonderful book.”

Here are a few quotes from her book:

“…Africa is mystic; it is wild; it is a sweltering inferno; it is a photographer’s paradise, a hunter’s Valhalla, an escapist’s Utopia. It is what you will, and it withstands all interpretations. It is the last vestige of a dead world or the cradle of a shiny new one. To a lot of people, as to myself, it is just ‘home.’It is all these things but one thing – it is never dull.” 

or,

“It was not like a herd of cattle or of sheep, because it was wild, and it carried with it the stamp of wilderness and the freedom of a land still more a possession of Nature than of Men. To see ten thousand animals untamed and not branded with the symbols of human commerce is like scaling an unconquered mountain for the first time, or like finding a forest without roads or footpaths, or the blemish of an axe. You know then what you had always been told – that the world once lived and grew without adding machines and newsprint and brick walled streets and the tyranny of clocks.”

The woman can write!

Andrew also told us about other goings on in the area, such as some way down the road from Kembu is another company that ties fishing flies. This company now sells fishing flies all over the world and offers a rare employment opportunity for disabled Kenyans. All this seemed the tip of the iceberg, and it was nice to get this introduction. 

Kembu means chameleon in Swahili, and there are a lot of chameleons on the property. One activity is to wander around the property on a mini chameleon safari, which we did. This is easiest at night, as their camouflage doesn’t work as well, and under the light of a flashlight they stand out like a dead leaf. Which is frankly still pretty good camouflage, as there are quite a few actual dead leaves around. But we did manage to find two of the little guys, very cool.

Kembu was a fantastic spot to land for a bit. We got the vehicle serviced at Toyota in Nakuru, and pleasantly there were no surprises. We had a few meals in the restaurant, made calls to home, caught up (somewhat) on the blog, took a lot of hot showers and got our laundry done. We also sketched out our plans for the remainder of Kenya. 

After four nights here it was time to get cracking. We were off to the Masai Mara. 

The Nitty Gritty

Astute readers will have noted that I accidentally put the Camp Kalacha info in the previous blog post. I am reposting here to keep it attached to the story above.

Camp Kalacha

Koobi Fora to the Kalacha Oasis, 223km 8h 47m

Camping here is really just adjacent to the camp, currently under refurbishment. You receive only the use of the pool. It was 500 pppn, but also 500 pppn for “security.” A bit pricy for what you get, but we empathize with any place trying to make it all the way out here. We received a hand written receipt. We were offered a toilet in one of the bandas under refurbishment, but upon inspection it was not fit for even the bravest or most desperate of users. We used the bushes.

There was fuel in North Horr, from a fuel station that looked similar to Loyangalani’s, a sort of modular station that fits in a shipping container. So it seems that any concerns about running out of fuel on this route are now no longer an issue. Who knows if it’s any good, but it’s good enough that you won’t be stranded. 

There was mobile signal (for Safaricom at least) in South Horr, Loyangalani, North Horr and Kalacha. 

Reteti Elephant Sanctuary (https://www.reteti.org)

We didn’t go here as they don’t have camping. Apparently they used to offer informal camping, but this is no longer the case. They do let visitors watch feedings of their orphaned elephants, every three hours, which seems really fun. We didn’t make it, but I thought I would list this in case it is of interest.

Ngare Ndare Forest Trust (https://www.ngarendare.org/forestcamping.html)

We tried to go here, but they were fully booked. It comes highly recommended and we will save it for another visit.

Castle Forest Lodge

Camp Kalacha to Castle Forest Lodge 572km, 11h 31m

I emphasize that driving this far, particularly anywhere in East Africa, is stupid. The only reason we were able to accomplish this is because of the stunningly good road from Marsabit to Nanyuki that had almost no traffic. And even then you’ll note that we only made good 50 kph for the day.

Castle Forest was great, a cool lush green stop in the mountains, the antithesis of camp Kalacha. There was more than one birding group here, making this a stop on a high end birding tour.

I believe camping here was $10 pppn. Guides are available from the lodge to go hiking or birding. Meals available in the lodge, along with occasionally functioning wifi.

Kembu Cottages

Castle Forest to Kembu, 270km, 7h 48m, including a longish stop in Nakuru

Kembu is a great stop. 600 KSH pppn. Firewood available, which I think we were charged some modest amount for, but it was ample. We had no real complaints, but if I had to come up with one it’s the campsite itself is not very atmospheric in it’s new location, with some dust blowing up off the road. Maybe with some more plants around it in time this will change. The restaurant meals were pretty good, but maybe not quite as amazing as depicted on the website. Wifi available in the bar area.