Lake Nakuru

Lake Nakuru National Park

January 9, 2009

Imagine you find yourself surrounded by an ocean of blue with an overlay of what looks like pink foliage. You tentatively move towards the shore, careful not to disturb the natural habitat. As you approach, you see that the sea of pink is composed of the excited wings of slender-legged flamingos and their long curved necks dipping alertly in and out of the water. You are mesmerized by the careful, controlled, calculated way they swoop in to catch their dinner.

Your senses are still tingling as you have just driven through herds of zebras, gazelles, and antelope.

You are standing on a white beach with sunshine beating down on your body. In front of you layers of wings, beaks, and long legs splashing in the water form a chorus of music dancing from sopranos to altos to tenors to basses. The chords intermingle and your skin is covered with goose bumps, despite the incessant beating of the sun.

Imagine.

On top of all of this, you are completely alone. You blend seamlessly into the landscape, your breath rises and falls with the rhythm of the water, and as far as you can see there is not a single interruption to the bursting and electrifying circle of life that engulfs you. You simultaneously hear complete silence and exploding sounds. There are no voices, no footsteps, no cars honking, no wheels screeching, and for a moment you think that you have escaped all noise. Then the sounds around you begin to come alive. You hear what sounds like a heart beating loudly in your ear, and for a moment you think it is your own. Then you look up and witness a mammoth stork taking rise in front of you, its powerful wings beating the air and sending vibrations to your ears. You hear the chatter of pelicans communicating, the wind picking up sand, and the gentle splash of the water.

Imagine. It sounds beautiful, doesn’t it? Serene, peaceful, even intoxicating.

That’s what I thought at least. I was in heaven. The shores of Lake Nakuru engulfed me almost immediately. So much so, in fact, that I would have scoffed had anyone told me that three hours later I’d be covered head to toe in mud, eyes darting back and forth on the lookout for leopards, and praying for a miracle so I could GET OUT OF THERE.

The bursting and vibrating silence was interrupted by the screech of spinning tires. I turned around from my trance within the flamingos to see my driver Michael spinning in the mud. He had driven too close to the lake and was caught in a moderate case of quick sand. Initially I was not worried. I waved to him, motioning that he stop spinning his wheels, and came to assist by pushing. Immediately I regretted that decision as my feet sank into the soil and his spinning wheels spit a thick coating of mud spots all over my dress and face.

Walking to find a stick or a log or a rock or SOMETHING to dig out mud from under the car, I stumbled upon paw prints from both a leopard and a cheetah. Michael tells me they come to the water to drink, and its really not safe to roam too far from the car. As I tentatively walk along the lakeshore seeing more and more paw prints, I keep my eyes on the horizon ready to bolt at any glimpse of movement.

The next three hours were a whirlwind of mud, dust, beating sunrays, frustration, blistered hands, dehydration, and EXHAUSTION. Neither one of us could get a good phone signal, and when we finally did we were not able to get through to the Kenyan Windlife Service. Michael managed to connect with one of his friends in Nakuru who promised to attempt to contact them on our behalf. Meanwhile, the sun continued to beat down on our bodies, my drinking water was long depleted, and just as quickly my energy and patience were dwindling. The front wheels of Michael’s car had sunk so deeply into the mud that the car frame was also enmeshed. Pushing the car was futile. I found a jack in the trunk and we somehow managed to raise the car up using a jackpoint near the rear wheels where the soil was more solid. Then we found a sand deposit some distance away, and proceeded to use floor mats to haul sand to fill in the craters created by the front wheels. Of course sand is almost as easy to get stuck in as mud, so we weren’t making much progress.

Somehow in the mayhem we rammed the car so hard that the gears slipped and the axle jammed. The transmission would no longer go into gear and the front right wheel would not turn. We were mechanically stuck and literally sunk.

I was about ready to brave the leopards, cheetahs, and lions and walk through the jungle in search of another safari vehicle or park ranger to help us. In one last burst of desperation, our blistered hands frantically jacked up the car again. Michael hauled three more loads of sand, and as he lifted the front of the car to prevent it from sinking I pushed the back with every ounce of strength I could muster. Our adrenaline must have been skyrocketing because the car impossibly lurched forward, the gears rammed into place, and the jammed wheel was free. Michael jumped in while the car was still rolling and spun out of there in a fury of flying mud and swarming dust. I grabbed the jack and sprinted after him, knowing he wouldn’t stop before creating a great span of distance between the muddy shore and our equally mud-logged car.

My heart was beating wildly in my chest as we continued our hunt for giraffes and lions, but not because of the wonder of these animals. Rather it was from the exhilaration of finally escaping a place that had initially felt like paradise. So now I know, even heaven can turn into captivity if you get stuck there for too long.

Photobucket

Photobucket

Photobucket

Photobucket

Photobucket

Photobucket

Photobucket

Photobucket

Photobucket

Photobucket

Photobucket

Photobucket

Photobucket

Photobucket

Photobucket

Photobucket

Photobucket

Photobucket

Photobucket

Photobucket

Photobucket

Photobucket

Photobucket

Comments are closed.

Press | Contact