MOUNT KENYA

We met Wilson at Cedar Mall in Nanyuki. He was our guide for the climb and couldn’t hide his curiosity. “Any beer in the last two days? Smoking? Sex?” he asked, inspecting us as if our answers would determine our fate on the mountain. After a quick once-over, he concluded, “You don’t look like hikers,” he said in a thick Kikuyu accent. Though his words were blunt, they were wrapped in the humor typical of an experienced guide, and we laughed along with him.

We followed Wilson to his car and headed to a lodge. At the lodge, we fitted our rented gear—boots, jackets, and hiking poles. Wilson left with his team to buy supplies for our four-day, three-night adventure: food, water, and essentials that would sustain us as we climbed higher into the wilderness. An hour later, we began the 40-minute drive through Nanyuki and Meru towards Sirimon Gate.

The Sirimon Route is renowned for its breathtaking beauty. It’s a direct path to the northern peaks of Mount Kenya, cutting through lush moorlands and climbing along majestic ridges. The trail winds through some of the most picturesque landscapes in Kenya. It was September, and the season’s sun had melted most of the ice and snow from the route, making it clear for us to ascend. We posed for pictures at the gate, trying to capture our excitement before we embarked on the first leg of our hike. At this point, we looked more like gangster enjoying a holiday rather than serious hikers (comments from persons who saw the pictures). Marco, however, had recently climbed Mount Kilimanjaro, Africa’s highest point, just two months ago. For him, this trek to Lenana, the second-highest peak in Africa, was less of a challenge. Sammy and I, on the other hand, our previous experience was limited to a hike at Nandi Rock, which stands at just 1,559 meters (even Nairobi is higher at 1,661 meters). So, climbing Mount Kenya would be a test for us. Wilson’s words echoed in my mind, “You don’t come here to conquer the mountain; you come here to conquer yourself.”

At 2 p.m., we began the nine-kilometer hike to Old Moses Camp after a refreshing lunch at the gate. Justin, our guide for the climb, an energetic young man with a contagious enthusiasm for the mountain. He introduced us to the team of five porters accompanying us: Jomo, Kibaki, Newton, and Daniel, the cook, who Justin jokingly called “our mother for the hike.” As we hiked, Justin shared stories of the Agikuyu people, the indigenous group native to the slopes of Mount Kenya. That spiritual communities would bring sacrificial animals into the forest, set them free and embark on a seven-day prayer, if the animal came back to them on the seventh day, this was not a good sign, the gods were angry at them and in return had rejected the sacrificial animal, if it never came back, the gods accepted it and the seventh day was celebrious. How every hut and house built around the mountain was built with the door facing the mountain so every time one came out the house, they were bowing in respect to the mountain, how the women slept with their heads facing the mountain, this way they were not having their legs spread open towards the mountain during coitus. Kibaki, one of the porters, entertained us with stories from the lakeside region, particularly about his admiration for Luo women, whom he described as “voluminous and beautiful.” He credited their intelligence to the fish they ate and admired their fluency in English. His humorous commentary kept us laughing as we trekked through the varied terrain. A few kilometers before reaching Old Moses Camp, a group of guides passed by and warned us of a buffalo sighted with her calf along the trail. We needed to be cautious, they said, as a protective mother buffalo could be dangerous.

When we arrived at Old Moses Camp, situated at 3,300 meters, the temperature had dropped significantly. The camp was freezing cold, and Justin advised us to layer up in our jackets. We sat down for a hearty meal of soup, hot tea, and coffee, which helped warm us up. After dinner, we sat under the night sky, gazing at the stars, which seemed so close and so bright. The Milky Way was visible, and the silence of the mountain was broken only by the occasional laugh as we shared stories of ancient myths. Sammy entertained us with tales of the Anunnaki, a mythical race of beings who, according to some, visited Earth thousands of years ago, only to leave after causing chaos among humans.

The next morning, after a filling breakfast, we packed our lunches and set out on a 15-kilometer hike to Shipton’s Camp. The trail led us through open heather and moorland before descending into the picturesque Mackinder Valley. The landscape was stunning, with the towering peaks of Mount Kenya looming above us. The trek was challenging, but the beauty around us was a constant motivation to keep going. Before we set off, Justin congratulated us for completing the first day and warned that the coming sections would be tougher. He also mentioned that he would talk less to help us conserve our energy for the strenuous climb ahead.

The weather was on our side. The sun was shining, and our spirits were high as we climbed up and down the rolling valleys. The sun brought warmth and hope, but we knew that the weather in the mountains could change at any moment. Though the clouds above us weren’t packed with bad weather, they appeared ominous, reminding us that nature was in control. Each step brought us closer to the summit, and our confidence grew with every kilometer.

We reached Shipton’s Camp at 4,200 meters by dusk, just as the sky began to darken. The three peaks—Lenana, Batian, and Nelion—were outlined against the sky, with Lenana being our target. Shipton’s Camp was freezing, even colder than Old Moses, and the altitude made it difficult to breathe. My breathing was labored throughout the night, and I struggled to sleep, feeling the weight of the altitude with every breath. I lay awake, waiting for the big day—the summit push.

At 2 a.m., Justin woke us up for the final ascent. I was already sitting up in bed, fully dressed and ready. We had a light breakfast and layered up with jackets and pants, applying vaseline on our faces to protect our skin from the cold wind at the peak. Three groups had camped at Shipton’s that night, and we were the second to leave. Hiking in the dark, we tackled the steep route towards Lenana. Justin explained that the path is best hiked in darkness because the steepness would be overwhelming in daylight. The goal was to reach the summit by sunrise, around 6 a.m.

The climb was tough, and the breaks were short. Standing breaks helped us avoid heat loss, and sitting for too long could lead to a build-up of uric acid in the knees, as Justin explained. By dawn, we were on the final stretch to Point Lenana. As the sun began to rise, we reached the peak, just in time to witness the red-orange flames of the sun lighting up the sky. Standing above the clouds, we marveled at the view, feeling the cold but also the immense satisfaction of having made it.

The descent was nerve-wracking. We carefully navigated the steep paths, holding onto the ropes installed along the trail. Near the Austrian Hut, Justin pointed to a lake below and told us a tragic story about a friend of his, a fellow guide who died while trying to save a client. The client, an Indian American woman, had slipped while taking a photo, and his friend had followed her down the rocks, only for both of them to die from the fall. “You see this watch that am wearing, I removed it from my friends wrist after we removed his dead body from the lake..” he said. The watch had reminded him of his late friend whom they will be celebrating his anniversary in December.

We continued down to Teleki Lodge, where we had breakfast before setting out on a nine-kilometer hike through swampy moorlands to Met Station Camp at 3,030 meters. The rain had made the path muddy, but we pressed on. That night, we slept at Met Station, exhausted but proud of what we had achieved. The next morning, we set off for a ten-kilometer hike to Naro Moru Gate in Nyeri. Wilson was waiting for us there, ready to drive us back to town. As we trekked the final stretch, Justin shared more stories from his life, including how he had once stayed on the mountain for 19 days without taking a shower.