Outreach Part 2- Hell's Gate

The road to Hell’s Gate passes through fields of Kenyan flower farms, with giant white plastic awnings protecting the delicates from the scorching sun. Gnarly fences of spiny cactus protect the commercial endeavors. Outside the gates, Kenyans stand patiently, hoping there will be enough work today. We drove past, eventually arriving at the ranger station of the national park. For a 7km bike ride in, we searched through the inventory of battered bikes. One had the option of multiple gears, working brakes, or inflated tires, but not all three. As I made my way into the park made famous for the Lion King’s pride rock, we spotted zebras lazily eating, impalas running through the fields, families of warthogs snorting and playing around, and even a giraffe, that ran away with most graceful stride. Walls of sheer rock lined the plains and the catalyst for pride rock proved to be disappointing, but no less interesting.
As darkening skies began to loom and thunder crashed off on the distance, we abandoned the bikes to hike into the canyons. Signs warning of flash floods and baboons dotted the way, to a tiny stream the granite walls, only 10 feet apart, dwarfed. Rain began to fall in small drops, soon turning into giant gobs of warm African rain shower. With no protection, everyone scrambled for the few plastic bags for valuables and sacrificed everything else. The steady stream built into a small river, building with intensity at every bend, sending floating sticks and debris our way. We reached the first waterfall, and many in the group questioned how we would climb it. Nick, a recent Peace Corp veteran, stepped under the falls, covering himself in gravel and mud streaming down. Just as he walked away a rock the size of grapefruit passed the spot his head had just been. I looked back down the canyon, mentally taking in where one could climb if the water level increased. With sheets of rain, drenching the rock surface, few places looked suitable. The decision to carry on had its risks, but as I heaved myself over the top of the fall, whipping away blood from my elbow, I couldn’t help smiling to myself, the excitement boiled.
The river deepened and strengthened, the group forming human chains to push through, some groaning louder with every obstacle. The second waterfall required the remains of a fallen tree, acting as a sort of ladder. I rounded the bend, to see Christine fall from it, missing the small handhold. Shaken she clamored back up, but a few loudly voiced their displeasure. I made it over, slipping a bit at the end, but the group dynamic had soured with heavy rain. Izzo informed us that the last fall only a few would make up and that to our dismay the only exit was behind us. A vote was put whether to push on. I had already decided I would not be climbing the final fall, but I wanted to see what I would not conquer. The final fall was not enormous, but the wall was sheer and the water cascaded down. It was a fear of heights or climbing it that deterred me, but coming down blindly. All the more prudent choice, when Ryan fell coming down narrowly missing the jagged rocks at the bottom. I sat exhausted and emptied the piles of pebbles from my shoes and discarding the useless wet rags of sock.
The exit proved to be a less treacherous than originally imagined. The storm abated and the river returned to a gentle stream. Part of the group separated, and a few of us were rewarded with a hot springs showering from a rock face. Earlier I had lost my footing, and bounced my head off rock and mud, covering me from head-to-toe in a limey clay. Having a bar of soap handy, it seemed like the perfect time to strip down and shower. The hilarious scene ensued with a group of half-naked muzungos washing themselves along with muddy clothes, as bewildered guides looked on with amused glances. We hiked out as dusk set, scaling a cliff face to meet the waiting van and grumpy remains of the group. I looked back over the fading view of canyon and treetops, a sight that rewarded the difficulty of the day. The rain started falling again, but no one cared and we laughed about the prospect of hot showers and cold beer- together.