Ice Climbing on the Equator (Mt Kenya 2002)

The idea was conceived after a failed trip to Chamonix, France where after one day of ice climbing I got food poisoning. We had just sunk our teeth into this new sport and wanted more but did not want to wait a full year to try again. So we got to thinking where can we go? 

Long forgotten memories sprung up and a plan was formulated. I had lived in Kenya as a kid and had a big desire to go back. An ice climb on a mountain in Africa in October. This idea seemed ideal and flights were booked next day. We were committed. We were going to climb Mt Kenya, naively thinking we would turn up and do a bunch of ice climbing on this megalith of rock. Two standout climbs stood out to focus on, the Ice Window and the Diamond Couloir. It was only 2 ice climbs on the South face of Mt Kenya, easy - right? 

But, first, to figure out the rest of the logistics. Luckily we had plenty of time to research although back in 2002 there was very little information on the internet (still is to be honest) and the guidebook felt outdated. But we were eager and willing to have a go. Just go prepared and take plenty of stuff.

Lots of equipment was brought, sleeping bags, bivi sacks, mats, tent, stoves, cloths, food. Stacking it up with all the climbing gear - axes, crampons, ice screws, ropes, harness, tat...  we knew were were in for a full scale expedition. Equipment wise I think we got it right. Food wise - bad choices. In our wisdom we had decided to buy powdered food mix from a health store in the kilos - this was the best ratio of calories to weight that we figured at the time. To hid the poor taste we would add a whole range of mixed spices. I had just returned from Tunisia and brought bagloads of spices. What could go wrong?

Arriving in Nairobi was a shock to our western upbringing. Seeming controlled chaos ensued everywhere we turned. We paid US dollars to get pieces of paper and to keep our axes. Out of customs we were thankfully met by some long standing friends of my parents, Mike and Morag. They hustled us into their car and at great speed flew through all junctions or red lights, never stopping. Risks were high in a desperate city.

A nights rest and we were off early. Mike and Morag were heading to the Aberdare's and were happy to drop us off en route with simple instructions 'Just hail a Matatu bus they'll take you to the trailhead'. After a few minutes waiting by a dusty deserted roadside. Children started to appear then we seemed surrounded by a mass of kids and confused on what exactly we were to do. Luck again struck and Mike re-appeared and said they were slightly worried and would help us in getting a bus. When one did drive by shortly, Mike hailed it down and negotiated a price, we jumped in the Matatu with our overloaded rucksacks. The bus did an about turn and headed off in the opposite direction with 3 other passengers jumping in. They starred smiling at us, we nervously smiled back. Not knowing what to make of this Dave and myself gave each other a stare and looked at our axes on our packs ready to grab and protect ourselves if the shit hit the fan. Again our worry was for nothing. The driver pulled into a gas station, filled up and then returned to going in the right direction. Boy, just getting to the mountain was turning into an ordeal. The Matatu pulled into the Naro Moru River Lodge. With handshakes, smiles and a paid fare the Matatu pulled away.

At the lodge we were easily able to talk english to the manager and agree a fee to take us up the mountain to the Park entrance and maybe weather permitting to the Met Office Lodge at 3000m. With no time to rest and take anything in we were loaded up into a Landrover and headed up a dirt road to Mt Kenya via a gas station where we filled our fuel bottles up.

At the National park entrance more permits and money were exchanged and our driver was happy to continue. A little up the road with rain falling the dirt road turned to mud which was fine until we hit some steeper inclines then it just slipped and slide around without any traction. Jumping out we all helped push, jammed branches under the tyres and slowly slowly we made our way up to the Met Station.

We somehow made it and booked ourselves into a small hut for the night. Tired and starving we hit a snag. Our MSR dragon stove just wouldn't light up the fuel we had brought. Endless priming/lighting all to no avail. No issue at sea level but altitude and 'poor' fuel made our expensive stove useless.

 Sparking up a conversation with a sole english army guy staying in the hut next door he lent us a few hexy burners. More gratitude and wished him well on his adventure, trying to summit Point Lenana at a second attempt. With the burner we managed to get some food going where we hit another snag. The food was inedible. Eating it at home was a different experience to eating it at altitude. Dry powdered shit came to mind. We shrugged it off but it was the start of a massive calorie deficient trip. Sleep came slow with the incessant gibbering of the monkeys in the surrounding forest.

Early the next morning with a skipped brekkie we fully loaded our rucksacks.  With lots of raised eyebrows to each other we set off and within 100yards both collapse under the weight of our packs, just 10km and 1200m of vertical to go. Again the altitude played a massive part and thinking back unsure if we ever trained with a fully loaded pack, just thinking we were fit and tough enough. With humour we helped pick ourselves up and staggered ever upwards.

Once out of the alpine meadows we hit the Vertical Bog. "A steep quagmire of wet moorland which is extremely taxing and unpleasant especially after rainfall". And as luck would have it we were in Spring where the weather rolled in, like clockwork, at lunchtime and rained (or snowed) heavy for a few hours before clearing for an hour or two of sun before darkness.

We sat resting under a small rock outcrop with the incessant rain, looking numbly at each other worried that we had bitten off a little too much. Then a couple of guys (rangers/porters) strolled past. Again a language barrier but they insisted on helping us in carrying some of our equipment. 

We at first were reluctant due to wanting to conquer this mountain by ourselves and also a small worry of who are these people and where are they going? But we were in a dire situation with time fading fast and so capitulated to their demands and gave them a few things we thought we could do without ie. tent and some food (we had over a weeks supply). This did reduce our packs by a few pounds from our original 60 odd pounds.

Soldiering on we soon were finished with the Vertical Bog and made our way into the Teleki Valley. With time ebbing away and no end in sight, we were still clouded in rain and mist. We decide to ditch all non essential gear. This made a huge difference in our speed and attitude. Not long after we descended into the valley bottom and the weather started to lift and we got our first views of Mt Kenya.

Here it was Mt Kenya, months of planning, months of dreaming.  If you come to climb a mountain then what mountain looks more aesthetically than Mt Kenya's South face. Huge twin summit rock outcrops at over 17,000ft (Bation and Nelion) are bisected by a slither of ice (the Diamond Couloir) running directly down its middle linked by glaciers top and bottom.. Stunning. And we were here to climb it. Tiredness could not refrain our excitement. Even better with high spirits we rounded a corner and after 8 grueling hours could see Mackinders Hut, a large bunkhouse in the heart of the valley. They'd be no sleeping in a tent this day. 

At the hut we were all alone apart from the warden and the rangers who helped us, who had stored our gear safely  We had our pick of the bunkrooms and once settled the warden insisted he cook a meal for us - a dried meat broth which was superb, certainly beating our healthy powdered sludge. Tucked up in our warm sleeping bags we slept soundly that night. A tough days trekking by any account, only our 2nd full day in country and we'd hiked up to 4300m with loaded packs. We were shattered.

The next day, understandable, we decided to rest and collect our ditched gear. Relaxing in the sun watching the hyraxes (a friendly mountain rodent) eyeing you up for food as we eyed up the mouth watering routes up Mt Kenya. With more local cooking we gained some energy and made plans for a summit push the next day. Time was essential as we still planned on making 2 summit climbs. We packed our gear deciding to leave the tent and most of the food behind. We could just rely on the snack bars and chocolate to get us through a days climbing not sure we thought much about water but we did decide on taking our bivi gear, sleeping bag, duvet jacket and full climbing rack.

Rising early we awaited the sun to warm us up and then took a hike up to Tyndal Tarn and a slow scramble to the base of the climbs by the Darwin Glacier and searched for our home for the night. The Black Hole Bivi the staging post for any climb on this side. 

The bivi is formed by a truck size flat boulder resting on other boulders to form a natural cave with an added homely addition of a metal door to shut out the elements. With a lack of food and a lack of things to do the hours went slow but enabled us to eyeball the routes. The majestic Diamond Glacier just looked awesome, a continuous icicle line going all the way up to the upper glacier. But first the Ice Window, the easier route carved to the right of the main couloir, to warm us up in this mountain environment. It was time to rest up, as snow started to fall we shuffled into the black hole to try and get some needed sleep which was interrupted overnight by a local mouse eating through the rucksacks to get at our chocolate stash!!

Game time. We awoke to even more fresh snow and unable to cook up we took no time in starting. We slogged through the snow covered boulder field up to the glacier to the base of the route. Route finding is tricky but a few steep moves over ice and rock get us to the base of an open snow field. We pitch over this breaking trail to the uttermost corner. Then a tricky diagonal ramp with a few technical rock steps takes us to the top where a tricky abseil takes us down into the Windows Iced up gully. We then do around half dozen full pitches (60m) up this amazing ice gully, easy ice climbing and we made good time only shame was that the weather had closed in so the views were non existent. 

We got to a break in the gully and faced a big dilemma. We did not have a watch! but with the weather clearing we knew it must be around 3-4pm so less than 3 hours of daylight remained. The crux was straight ahead of us and a number of hours still to go. We'd be going for around 7-8 hours and we not only had to decide to commit to the summit in darkness but also to the next pitches which just looked full of complications and hardness. The going was slow and would get slower the higher we got with tricky climbing, the high altitude to contend with added with route finding in the frigid darkness! We discussed sleeping in the famous ice window cave until realisation hit us that this cave should be where we were standing! Clearly no longer here the only feasible excuse was that it no longer existed and had collapse into the couloir below. 

Only had one decision to make up or down. After some mintcake washed down with fresh snow I hinted to Dave that it was his pitch to lead and so his decision. 

Best to fail trying than to wonder what could have been Dave set off across difficult ground, loose rocks coming away, footsteps plunging into the unknown deep snow, hazards with every move below a huge drop off down into the abyss of the Diamond couloir and did I mention no where to place protection. I held him as best as I could ready to brace myself if he should take a wrong step. Dave slowly edged across this 5m horizontal deathtrap to be confronted by a steep vertical wall of ice. Probable good fun in the Alps but here at 5000m a different proposition. At least it afforded some protection as he drove in a couple of ice screws and dropping gifting one for the Gods to protect us. Working his way up the ice was brittle, thin, unprotectable and to the sides the rocks were too fragile, too loose to trust any gear. Finding himself in a precarious position, mental fortitude pushed him on. Retreating now was not an option. Keep climbing. Finally 10m above the last dodgy screw he sunk a screw in an ice bulge, not fully in but hell that will do. Rule#1 Don't fall. A few more metres higher the pitch eased and a pleather of protection was installed especially a sling over a perfect spike. Dave then proceeded to collapse in an exhausted heap hanging off his solid belay. I urged him to be ready for me. No time to dither, by now my whole body shivered, hands numbed into unfeeling lumps of flesh. 

I began my treacherous journey, gingerly tiptoeing across the chasm, falling would cause a massive whipper that either of us could really do without. Inching my way across with full concentration and will power. Step by step I got closer to the main ice fall and took a big sigh of relief. Removing the ice protection I began to climb. Although I was safe on the tight rope the climbing was tricky. I felt exhausted, cold and unable to get my hands to grasp the axes in a secure grip. Every few moves I'd stop and try and shake out the frozenness and pump a little blood into the fingers. At last I reached Dave, still slung over his belay, trying to rest, trying to keep warm, trying to fathom if we were doing the right thing. I was running on empty, Dave was frozen stiff. So instead of waiting for me to gain any energy we quickly decided to keep Dave warm and set him on his way up the next pitch which was just another full rope length of undulating steep ice in a rocky gully. Which ended at the bottom of the Diamond Glacier. By the time I had pulled alongside him a mindful realisation that nightfall had set in. We had been on the go for nearly 12 hours with little water and fewer calories. But we had broken the camels back, the summit beckoned us.

Feeling resolute the crux was done, eager to crack on the final few pitches, a few hours left. With renewed energy I headed straight up the glacier from our stance. We had tiredly pondered on the best direction to take from our belay stance- whether to head straight across the glacier to the Gates of the Mist or work our way around the glacier using the rocks for protection. Neither seemed viable heading direct felt dangerous with the possibility of avalanches and unforeseen dangers and also running out of rope short of the rocks and much needed protection. Keeping to the rocks and going the long way round was just time consuming so neglected. Straight up I slogged, the snow on the glacier was deep so it was painstakingly slow as I waded through the snow taking frequent breaks to gasp in the chilled air. At over 5000m and not fully/really acclimatise the hard efforts of the day were catching up on the mind and body.

A story told later by the rangers at Mackinders Hut, that they watched our headtorches snaking their way up the glacier in the black of the night must have been some sight for them and sure-fire thinking on what are these crazy Brits doing!!

I came up short of the rock wall in front of me. Screaming down to Dave we half communicated the need to move him up a few metres allowing me to reach the rocks and provide protection with some slings over some solid rock spikes. The wind had picked up and I belayed Dave up with my knee and boots firmly planted into the ice to tired to shuffle around and keep the blood circulating. It took months for those body parts to thaw out and the numbness and tingles to finally disappear from my knee and toes. A strange type of frost nip.

Dave turned up, let out a shiver and without sticking around made his way horizontally across the snow slope to the Gates of the Mist and brought me over. He had some time in perusing the next pitch and with just a hint of a smirk telling me this next one was most certainly mine. I looked up with weary dread. Straight out the box it looked un-doable. Looking up in the dim beams of our puny torches we could just make out a line of weakness. In the centre to the side of a rock spur there was potential of linking the bottom ice to the top snow, it looked a right stretch in my eyes but Dave humoured me into its possibilities. I was sure there must be a more viable option but further surveying with weak torches confirmed that in front of us was the best of the bad options available. We had to keep moving.

With a bomber belay I set up the Gates of the Mist. Arrived at the base of the small headwall. Unclimbable rock all around apart from a mass of fragile icicles leading up a number of feet to a snow ramp. I slung a sling around many of these and clipped in. A little security. Then I scratched away at trying to inch my way up to find any purchase above. It was all just tantalisingly out of reach. Dave shouted encouraging to hurry up. The weather was fast deteriorating. I hooked my left axe around a solid looking icicle and pushed up and swung my right axe above, it bounced off, close. I tried again, sparks flew out from striking the rocks, closer still. Commit I shouted to myself. I flung myself with desperation and the axe stuck. Into what I have no idea but I quickly gathered my feet and with an influx of adrenaline, reached high and sunk my other axe into more equator ice and hauled my body and arse up and into the safe snow above. Phew, done it. No time for congratulations, keep going, find a belay. The snow was deep as I made my way to the ridgeline then across to the side of Nelion and sat astride the ridge and brought Dave up. 

At the ridgeline connecting Mt Kenya's majestic peaks of Nelion and Bation the weather changed instantly, the wind howled harsher amongst a whirlwind of snow. Bringing the worst of weather to an already unpleasant situation/temperature. We had certainly gained a foothold in The Gates of the Mists.

We climbed around the other side and through deep snow made our way around the corner and scrambled upwards on easing terrain. We arrived at ridge, a false summit, looking over into the dark precipice below thinking we're not done yet. Then looked around and in the complete nighttime whiteout could make out that there was no hut, no summit here. We had to push on. We were nearing desperation and pleading to the gods to bring us summit salvation. They must of heard us that night as soon after the scrambling levelled and we felt like we must surely, this time be on the summit plateau. We spread out and searched for this elusive hut. Then a glint of a shining object flickered in the blizzard. We'd found the hut, salvation, pure relief. 

Howells Hut, a small aluminium bivi site made by and built by one extraordinary man Ian Howell by climbing up by himself with all the material parts numerous times to set this up at the top of Mt Kenya for many a weary and most grateful climber. 

After 16hrs on the mountain we collapse in a heap inside leaving the climbing gear strewn around outside. We were bone tired, exhausted, careless we just wanted out of the storm. Inside the shelter was a great relief. And through pure exhaustion we crawled into our sacks and bivi bags and passed out dreaming of a climb truly well earnt.

Morning hurriedly arrived. Unwilling to get out of the warm bag. The climate around was briskly cold but had a feeling of claustrophobia being stuck in a burnt out sardine can. I pushed the door to bring a vision of beauty outside just mesmerising. High up on the African plains amongst fresh snow we looked down as there was nothing but sky upwards. Down into the gorges below and surrounded by a vast cloud inversion. I couldn't stay in bed for long I just had to get out and take this landscape all in. Getting the boots on proved problematic in that they were frozen. But shoved my feet in and kept them loose. The climbing gear strewn outside was all frozen but we felt the upcoming sun would soon thaw these a little. The views were spectacular, it felt like we'd conquered the world, well at least a small part of Africa.

We frittered around snacking on Kendal mint cake and ice cubes. Touched the summit peak, we had come all this way after all. Collected our gear and made ready for hopefully an easy descent as we're still wishful of getting down resting and trying the Diamond Couloir route. It took some time to find the initial abseil bolt. The guidebook, like many of the descriptions made it out as a simple task. Seeing through experienced eyes looks and feels different to our weary novice eyes. We finally found it over some loose scree. I thought I was going to lose Dave at one point when he stumbled over the loose boulders and lost his balance. Easy now, lets get roped in.

We descended off the bolt down 25m and then had to sway around looking for the next bolt. Found it. Dave then came down and after a re-rope went down only to get stuck after going over an overhang and the belay/stop device (Petzel Shunt) had got jammed on the ropes and having no purchase for his feet he was unable to take any tension out of the rope to undo the device. With Dave shouting and cursing I remember thinking I was pretty hopeless, nothing I could do apart from shout down telling him to try harder and get a move on. Finally through temper and frustrations Dave got some purchase on the ropes and was able to lift the shunt clear and enable the abseil to continue on the descent. At the next belay we both ditched these devices as I think we both had no energy for any more of those shenanigans.

We may of done another belay each, things do start to get a little fuzzy here and there but we arrived at a knife edge and looked for an age for the belay bolt to no avail. To our right was a steep drop down the South West face. Alarm bells rang out from the guide book, little information was given but one warning was not to go down this face. To the other side of the drop was some very old tat (no bolt) leading down what looked to be a decent angle face. We did walk along the nose and peer over but there was no bolt in view and so having to make a decision we decided that the very old tat was the way to go. Down we went. This was the wrong way but we were not to know that at the time. We now headed down a North-East facing slope and should of found our way down a more eastward one. But the guide was vague, we had lost patience and felt comfortable with our decision (sort of). 

Down we went. After one full length 60m abseil our worst nightmare, the rope stuck. After each abseil we would clip in safe and pull the rope through the tat we had made from the belay above. We'd use some new tat as well as any that was available, you could never be too safe with tired minds. But with this came a risk that in pulling the rope through the tat could entangle with itself and other bits and cause an undoable tangle. 

That situation had reared its ugly head. Unsure how we came to the decision but maybe feeling fresher I opted to climb up to free the rope. Digging out the Petzel shunt, it would come in handy after all, I wearily ascended my way back up the ropes just as sleety snow began to fall. Our luck was wearing thin. The climb was was hard going on the body and mind. Each foothold gained seemed an enormous effort. The steeper sections the shunt was invaluable as without using the rope as an aide i'm unsure as to high far I could of gone. Finally after a lot of lost time I reached the abseil and the rope had truly got stuck in amongst the tat. With it untangled I took the risk of not leaving the rope running through several backups but just used a carabiner and connected the tat to that so entanglement was negated. Back down with Dave I was completely spent. Lucky he had had a good rest and was eager to get us down and so for the next few belays he took charge and got us through each abseil point. We decided to use carabiners and fresh slings on any dodgy tatty belay points so as not to repeat any snags. We felt our gear, rather than us, was expendable. 

By now I was feeling a little delirious, we had not eaten anything proper now for a day and half, water had been scarce. I'm sure we abbed through a waterfall without thinking of drinking the water! I remember Dave setting up one abseil with the tat coming away from the rock, causing us more stress and worry. But finally after one abb I hit some scree and Dave said that was it, no more to do. The relief was comforting that the abject danger should now be behind us. All we had to do now was wonder over to the Hut! We had abseiled the right way after all!

Through all this the weather was poor, the mist was down, it rained on and off. We had no idea where we are but knew that descending was our only option and so moved down through the scree and boulders. After some time with light fading I do distinctly remember that we had high cliffs looming over us on either side. In my head this was not right. If we had come down the correct route then the only cliffs should be to our left side only (Point Thomson). We were surely going the wrong way and had no knowledge of where this was taking us (Point Thomson was on our right). We had no map to help in any decision making. Descending was the only option. We kept going as dusk arrived, we knew it would get very cold soon and high on the ridgeline we felt that we could get to the valley bottom then we would just get the bivi bags out to see us through the night. 

Just then we saw a person!! Another human being was out here. He was way over on another ridgeline over the valley but he was definitely there. We shouted until he saw us and made his way and and we made our way over to him and met in the middle, he was a ranger heading back to the Austrian Hut. He insisted we follow him as he took some climbing gear of our beaten bodies. 

We were not alone, this brought an instant reassurance which did not linger long as we realised in our deliriousness that we would not be relaxing just yet, but had now to climb back up the mountain to get to the Austrian Hut. We followed resolutely, not knowing for sure where we were going but we were in safe hands and with limited English we believed it was only a few hours to the hut. Although this was reassuring, I am sure now that we were not far from Shiptons Hut so a nighttime ascent of Point Lenana in hindsight feels unheeded but we were ignorant and followed our saviour. Although I still have no idea where we met our ranger and where our turnaround point was.

Up, up up we went. We were slow and took it in turns to struggle. At one point I started in desperation to shovel in lots of snow and it brought some sanity back and shared this with Dave who followed suit and we perked up for the final push up to Point Lanana. Once we stopped climbing and started to descend we knew we had made it as our Ranger (Steve) smiled and egged us on. What a guy, he stuck with us in terrible weather and going extremely slow. He must of been freezing, at one point we gave him our spare gloves for he had none. His parka was old, his shoes older, his only light was an old hand held thing. What he must of thought of us in all kitted out in the latest and greatest.

Finally, after another full day on out feet we arrived at the Austrian Hut and was greeted by what can only be described as the best thing ever. The Hut warden came out and gave us hot tea with melted chocolate. It just warmed the heart and made us feel human again. We had some soup and more tea and then went to the hut and passed out.

What an epic, thoughts of climbing the Diamond Couloir now dissipated into a forgotten dream. It would have to wait - forever it seems. But we had conquered a mountain far from home, far from our comfort. We were young(ish), young in our climbing experience. Plenty of short rock climbs and a failed ice climbing trip to the Alps was on our CV. But nothing beats adventure into the unknown. This was before the internet age and turning up and having a go was just the right tonic for our young adventurous souls. We had set off from the Met Station at 3000m and within minutes felt dejected and sensed a failure but 7 days later we were back at the Station having summited. Having had a 2 day full scale assault on an ice fall on the African Equator (with plenty of snow falling on our days up there). Hard decisions justified by success and hard lessons from a lack of clarity in losing our way of the mountain. But hard heads in staying safe, getting lucky and getting home.

We awoke to yet another glorious morning and cup of tea,. We chilled out and the guys, exceptional as ever had taken our equipment and laid it out in the sun to dry and thaw out. after more tea we headed down the mountain and had a day resting at Mackinders Hut. We slept lots and only awoke to eat (a fine dried meat broth). And the day after we descended with the help of some rangers, although leaving some kit with the Hut guardians hoping they could make use of these much needed items especially the head torches.

The day passed slow and a great feeling of achievement as we meandered our way down of the mountain. We were a little hit hard when we got to the Met Station for word that our lift could not reach us due to heavy rains and so we would have to walk a further 10k and 1000m down to the park entrance. Phew, this hurt, I had put all the tiredness, the aches and pains to one side knowing that we just had to get to the Station. When this didn't materialise i think my body went into shut down. The rangers were still happy to help us with our stuff down to the entrance so this at least took the weight off our backs. But we still had to get ourselves and our broken bodies down. My feet were killing in my mountain boots and we had nothing else and so the only thing i could do was take out the inners to give my feet and there frost nipped toes some breathing space. 

Energy-less we headed down into the forest surrounded by the wild nature of monkeys and other animals. the noises were amazing after hearing nothing for a week. And although nervous that an elephant or worse a lion could wonder across our path i felt safe with the guys keeping us company and ensured i did not drift too far behind them.

Arriving at the park entrance we gave the rangers a few extra tips and even had to pay the park a few more dollars for an extended stay but our  lift had arrived and we bundled ourselves and our sacks into the 4x4 and headed home!!

Easy boys, Not quite that simple. We are in Africa. At the bottom of the track the driver was adamant that we had to jump out and make our own way from here!! No chance, we weren't being left by the roadside again. We refused to leave and after a discussion we managed to leverage him, he was, after all,  supposed to pick us up at the Met station, and duly took us to the local market town of Nanuki. Again he tried to get us out at the chaotic market square with thousands of people milling around and us with not a clue in the world of what to do. Again we persuaded him to help us. He left us in the car and disappeared in the crowds outside. A little later he returned and gave us 3 options.
1. Wait for the main bus - cheapest option but could take hours and could be full.
2. Take a Matatu, again decent price but we'd have to wait for it to fill up and our sacks would count as a seat paying fee.
3. Private car. This was twice the price and a couple of thousand shillings more than what we had on us. But this was the option we wanted. We again persuaded the driver to try and negotiate a lower price. We had to try. if we failed then we'd have to sit it out waiting on a bus, far from ideal. He drove us around some back alleys and stopped in front of a car, jumped out and processed to talk to a few guy. Then turned and waved us over. It all looked very shady and again we felt unsafe. 

But the guys were pleasant enough. All smiles and helped us with our packs and in we jumped into an extremely old looking peugeot with a red carpet interior and not a window undamaged. Very worrying. But Peter our new driver gave us a thumbs up and speed off at breakneck speed out of town straight to a gas station and filled up with the money we had given him. Then, once again, hit the pedal hard. We seemed to drive at every pothole at full speed. We looked at each other constantly with nervous apprehensive smiles as Peter took it casually with one arm slung out the window, only later realising that that arm was in fact disabled!! The drive back to the city took a gangster turn when a couple of times Peter would pull up, in the middle of no-where and a kid would run out of the bushes to hand him a package. he'd take it and put it under his seat. Then closer to the city we started to understand why we had a good price for the taxi. A number of roadblocks with gun tooting army boys patrolled the spiked corridor. As soon as they saw a couple of white boys in the car they waved us on with no interruptions, no checks. These guys had a get out of free jail card in us. 

We arrived in Nairobi, it felt like rush hour with bumper to bumper cars and trucks in all directions. It seemed complete mayhem, after the serenity of the mountain, in the deafening noise as Peter nonchalantly weaved in and out of traffic and even at one point rocked us up onto the sidewalk and drove down a little to make up some places only pulling back in when confronted by a burning oil drum. Then, abruptly, at a busy junction he stopped and waited and mysteriously a guy turned up and grabbed the packages and disappeared into the crowds. We were clean again.

We then arrived at the Hotel we had arranged to meet Mike and Morag. We pulled up the private driveway. The well dressed concierge remonstrated with Peter instructing him to leave immediately then once he saw us in the back changed his attitude to one of greeting and hospitality. We crawled out dazed and confused. We'd only seen basic civilisation for a week, a long week and now here we were back in the bright lights.  The concierge dazzled us in his pristine green garment, the red carpet flabbergasted us. And once they understood we were here to await for some friends they were extremely welcoming and ushered us in. We said our farewells to Peter and who knows what life awaited him outside of this privileged gateway. 

The concierge helped us gather all our belongings with some help and stored it in some backroom whilst inviting us to the restaurant. We beelined to the bar leaving a constant trail of fresh mountain mud on the spotless marble floor to our embarrassment as we were in the prestigious 5* Stanley Hotel. 

'Jambo, Two beers please' we wearily said to the barman...

And that was our adventure. Without the mishaps, the unknown, this may of just been another climbing holiday but I feel strongly that this sticks as an everlasting memory that true great adventures exist to all those that go outdoors.