Day 68 - Cracking Pablo's Knuckles & Video #4

 September 15, 2012 (Sam)

      “No Bribes, Report Corruption” read the sign at Kenya Wildlife Service’s main building in Ngong Town. This was a relief. With the number of times that Christina and I have been warned about the very real potential of “officials” trying to extort bribes from foreigners, we were relieved to read that this was an issue that KWS took seriously.

      We were in the town of Ngong to hike the Ngong Hills, a ridge that rises up from the Nairobi plain to separate the capital city from the Great Rift Valley. “Ngong” is the Maasai word for “knuckles,” which is appropriate because the form of the four main hills along the ridge resemble, from a distance, a giant fist laid flat across the horizon. The lush green landscape made for a nice break from the congested, smoggy city of Ongata Rongai. This was our first time since being here that we'd had the chance to get out into nature; we were ready for some fresh air and vigorous exercise.

      We had done quite a bit of research before coming, and as it goes with doing internet research, we (or should I say, Christina) worked ourselves into a frenzy about the possibility of getting robbed or mugged in the hills. For this reason, we read that we could hire a KWS guide for a very reasonable rate (approx. $18 for the day). Sounded like the wise thing to do anyway.

      Upon arriving, we were informed that KWS does not offer armed escorts; rather it was the Kenyan military who would be providing us with peace of mind today. Alright with us! Assign us our chaperone and let’s go! We met with the local military commander and he said that he would arrange our escort. Then he dropped the first bombshell on us: we would be required to take two escorts with us, boosting the price up to $36. This information made me rather unhappy, as it directly contradicted everything that I had read online and in our guidebook. After arguing with him for several minutes, we relented. Whatever. Give us two guards; we’re already here.

      A few phone calls and more than a few minutes later, two rather disgruntled looking troops ambled out of the building, one armed with a kalashnikov, the other with something else I couldn’t quite distinguish (I was in the Air Force, not the Army, remember). The shorter, chubbier soldier... for the sake of this post we’ll call him “Pablo”... immediately started complaining about how hot it was out, and how he didn’t want to climb the hill again today. Oh well, we’ve already been shafted once. Let’s get going.

      So we started off. The ascent was gradual, then steep. Pablo immediately started pouring sweat, and layers started to come off. By the time we reached the main gate, he looked like he’d been running through the sprinkler in the backyard all morning. This was where we were to pay our admission fee. And it was also where we acquiesced to KWS’ second bombshell: we’d be charged almost $10 to walk the ridge; a full four times more than what our research had told us that we’d be paying (yes, this was taking into consideration that we’d be paying foreigner rates).

Top of Knuckle #1

      Onward and upward. We crested the first “knuckle” with little difficulty. We’re not exactly in the best shape of our lives, but the climb was very moderate. I speak, of course, only for ourselves. Pablo and his compadre were hundreds of meters behind us, huffing and puffing like they were trying to blow down a brick house. We were catching some majestic views and enjoying the breeze by the time the guards made it up to us. After catching his breath, Pablo informed us that because of urgent duties back at the compound, we would only be climbing two of the four main hills. Not by the hairs on my chinny chin chin. We kindly told him that we had paid for an escort to climb all four hills, so that’s what we would be doing. I highly doubt your commander would have sent you had he known that you would have to be back in two hours. Nice try though. The boys didn’t like being denied their demand for an early termination of their day-hike, and they made it very evident.

Ambling up to Knuckle #2

      Twice, Pablo and Escobar took us on what they called “the unbeaten path; sure to be replete with unexplored parts of the hill that most tourists miss out on.” It turns out that these side paths were just short-cuts that circumvented the tops of the hills, allowing the boys to miss out on some of the most arduous sections of the trail. Again, we were not thrilled with their indolent tactics.

      At the top of the third hill, which we ensured that we crested as a team, we ran into a large group of locals, who, like us, had stopped to enjoy the view. Pablo plopped down next to the group and started pointing out landmarks on the valley floor thousands of feet below us. Christina and I ambled around the summit, gaping at the 3700 mile long trench that fell away to the west, aptly named, the Great Rift Valley. It was truly a sight to take away our breath.

The Summit of Knuckle #3 (Rift Valley to the left, Nairobi to the right)

Pablo, obviously twitterpated

   
      After a few minutes rest, we decided that we were ready to roll on. We looked around and realized that Pablo had developed a crush on one of the local girls. They were now sitting inches apart, arms almost interlocked as he swept his arm back and forth, surely reciting the names and preferred habitats of all the local shrubbery to his newfound dendrophile. Staunching the vomit that welled up in my throat, we called to him that we were ready to leave before turning and heading down the far side of the hill, ready to take on the fourth and final beast. We reached the bottom quickly and looked back up, only to realize that both guards were still atop the butte, not appearing as though they were going anywhere anytime soon. We pressed on, assuming that they would catch on and hurry to catch up. No such luck. A good 15 minutes later and neither had made a move from their perch atop the last peak. Wishing that we could press on alone, but knowing from our research that the fourth hill was purported to be the most dangerous in the range, we turned back to retrieve our guardians of peace. By the time we had re-ascended half of the hill that we had just descended, our guards got the point, and started to move. As we met them, Christina started to gently remind the guards of their duties as our protectors and scouts. Halfway through her disquisition, Pablo let her know exactly how he felt by turning his back on her and peeing into a bush mere feet from where we were standing. Okay, point taken. We pressed on in silence.

      As soon as we reached the base of the third hill (again) and looked up at the last conquest for the day, Pablo slumped to the ground and laid back in the sun-scorched grass. He would go no further today. We tried to explain that we had paid for two guides to accompany us to the tops of all four hills, but he would have none of it. He refused to budge. He assured us that we would be just as safe, if not more safe, if he kept his eyes on us from his exquisite vantage point at the col. We tried to reason with him, but it quickly became apparent that he wasn’t going anywhere. So we pressed on, one guard light. After 20 minutes of whacking our way through some dense underbrush, we broke out atop the fourth hill. A sight to behold. The wind whipped our hair around and we dropped our light packs and let the cool breeze dry the sweat on our backs. Just over 8,000 feet above sea level, we were at the highest point for miles around. The Great Rift Valley dropped away to the west, stretching all the way from northern Syria in Southwest Asia to central Mozambique in South East Africa. To the east, the towns of Ngong, Ongata Rongai, Kiserian, and the skyscrapers of Nairobi were visible over one and a half vertical miles below us. It was beautiful. A Tawny Eagle rode the breeze in the sky below us, a testament to just how high up we really were. I actually don’t know what kind of bird it was, but a Tawny Eagle sounds pretty cool.

Point Lamwia (8071ft)

      On the way back we encountered no less than four other groups that were each being escorted by a single guard. This spoke quite to the contrary of what we had been told back at the main compound, that every group was required at least two armed escorts. We’d been taken for a hike alright.

      So in the end, we may have been swindled, lied to, ripped off, and left with only a few spare shillings to make it home with... but at least KWS was true to their word: no one actually tried to bribe us.

Please watch the video we took below for a more accurate portrayal of what the beautiful Ngong Hills looked like in person: