Ol Doinyo Lengai

Climbing the “Mountain of God” and the runs leading up to it.

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Magadini

Today I ran on some crazy trails all day thanks to Jason Miller. I met Jason in Serengeti when he overheard me talking to my Dad on the phone about my run. Jason happens to help facilitate a mountain bike race from Kilimanjaro to Lake Natron… the exact route I was hoping to do. Now that’s serendipity working on a whole new level.

He generously shared all the info I needed to know for my runs the last few days culminating in a truly wild run today from Masai boma to Masai boma all off roads that finished at Lake Natron. In the morning, within five minutes of starting, Rocky knew something was wrong with his quadriceps. He made the decision to catch a bus back to civilization to see a doctor. I felt bad for leaving him behind, especially after he stayed with me and took me to the doctor just two days earlier when I was laid up in bed. I had also just made a speech to our team that our shared goal was to get to Eldoret. But, taking an honest look at myself, I see that I’m acting like the goal is to get me to Eldoret. I think that’s an acceptable goal considering I organized the adventure as long as I’m honest about it.

Running through Maasai bomas all day took me into another world like Narnia or Dune. The houses are 100% natural— mud walls and thatched roofs. My favorites are the circular homes. Back in town, the mud-stick houses built by Swahili look like one strong gust of wind would knock them right over. But here the houses built with the same material stand strong. The “bomas”— enclosures— themselves are circular and have walls made of thorns. They look flimsy but you wouldn’t dare try to climb through them.

It’s true that many look dirty, even malnourished and physically unwell. Yet, what I missed yesterday was that they are full of life. They have no fear in their eyes. At the end of my run today, a man my age started running after me with a cow whip and laughed at me when I got scared. It was the first time in Africa someone scared me more than I scared them. Gotta give him credit for that. These people don’t shout “mzungu” and plead to you for salvation like the folks in town. They don’t worship white people, or anyone else, as far as I can tell. They are ten times more vital than the drunkards in town.

A mother asked me for water for her baby. On account of my stomach troubles, I’ve been using the oral rehydration salts, so my water is orange. The mother wouldn’t accept my orange water. I tried to tell her it was truly water, but she refused, so I continued onward. That was a failure of my Swahili knowledge. I’ll be honest though, I was relieved not to part with my water in the middle of the desert… isn’t there a saying about that?

Every time I reached an area that looked perfectly uninhabitable, I found Maasai walking or cows grazing God knows how far from their home. This society takes pedestrian to a knew level. New Yorkers take pride in walking their city but these folks walk 7km just to get to school, on rocky trails, over hills and rivers.

When I ran past kids, they’d start running after me fearlessly. My heart rate picked up and I started running faster. I dreamed of running with the Maasai, but now I’m running from them. In either case they’re making me a better runner. I watch the kids sprint with long effortless strides in the distances and admire them, not an ounce of energy goes to waste. For months, I’ve been dreaming of watching the Maasai run, as I read a quotation in Toby Tanser’s memoir to the effect of: nothing is more natural than watching a Maasai run. After meeting Maasai in Zanzibar who tried to sell me cocaine, I lost hope that the one who run so effortlessly still exist, but they do.

At the end of the day, I dropped into the great rift valley down a steep rocky trail. Another mind blowing experience. Finally I found the road leading to Magadini and followed it to the primary school. Living had set up camp and cooked dinner already. The headmaster let us stay for free and the kids fetched water for Living and I to shower. Living cooked sweet potatoes, meat, and boiled some eggs. Yum yum yum! And yes, I was able to eat!! My appetite has returned at last. I’m so glad the diarrhea got better on its own and that I managed to run through. If it’s true what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger, I’ll come home jacked.

Living and I finally broke through in communication so that we were fully in sync. He has never driven a motorbike through the desert, and I failed to account for the fact that riding a motorbike through these regions is an adventure in itself, not to mention he’s supposed to be supporting two other bimbos on foot. I’d been worried about getting our team to bond and buy into the mission. Meanwhile, he was shitting his pants thinking about how he’d pay the mounting repair costs to his bike with the meager salary I’m paying him. The sand and desert was wrecking his bike, and costing more than either of us wanted to pay.

I understand his concerns, and this motorbike is exactly the headache I have sought to avoid by diving into human-powered adventures. On the run, I actually felt less epic not carrying my own stuff. The adventure is, dare I say, too easy with someone carrying my stuff? I’m here to do something stupidly difficult. As Steve House wrote in his memoir, the magnitude of the achievement is exactly proportional to the depth of the challenge. And no, I don’t count the toe infection as part of the challenge. The challenge is persevering no matter the obstacle…

Engare Sero (Maasai Boma)

Today I woke up with a swollen left foot. Another thorn and a new bugger (no pun intended), some sort of insect burrowed inside. I guess that’s what you get when you put a Jew from New Jersey through 55km of Maasai trails in the desert. Living removed everything with a needle. We walked to the conveniently located town doctor next to the school, and he gave the typical advice… wear open toed shoes to let the skin heal.

Well, I spent all day yesterday watching Maasai running in their sandals. Fuck it, I thought, I’m going full Maasai. I decided to walk the short 17km objective today in my sandals. I left the school and started towards Engare Sero. Soon I emerged from the desert onto a grassy plain leading to Lake Natron. Zebras, gazelles, wildebeest, and…. donkeys grazed around me. Babbling brooks and green grass surrounded me. I did a double take, “am I trespassing on a national park right now?” I wondered if I was allowed to be there. This picturesque scene rivaled Serengeti. “Where the hell am I?” I thought. This day was purely meant to get me closer to Kenya. I had no special route planned and no idea what I’d be walking through.

In the distance I saw flamingos. I walked to the shore of Lake Natron (home to 75% of the world’s flamingos). I picked up an egg in the mud. It felt heavy. I put it back. I walked back to the road and checked my map. My ecstasy was short-lived. At this rate I wouldn’t arrive in Engare Sero until evening, but I had lots to do there. I decided to start running in my sandals. The wind picked up and blew me forward like a sail. I raced from one side of the great rift valley straight across to the other.

The wind kept picking up and soon I found myself in a full blown dust storm. I kept running. The sand got deep and I slowed to a walk. Luckily I was already close. Then my sandal broke just as I reached the junction leading to town 2km away. I called Living and he swooped me up in the dust.

In town, we met Sunya, a local tour guide I connected with in Moshi. He will arrange our Ol Doinyo Lengai climb. While waiting for Rocky to return from the doctor, Sunya took us to a guesthouse to check in. No one was there. I said wait a second. Do you live here in town? No he said. Do you live in a boma? Yes. Can we stay with you? Yes!

Alas, my first immersion in a boma (where I write now). As we started driving, we passed Rocky coming into town. He jumped off his boda boda and reinfused everyone with a massive dose of energy. It was the perfect reunion and perfect timing! We made a split second decision to send Living home. There was enough daylight for Living to get to the nearest paved road, and every subsequent day he spends in the desert seems to add costs to his motorcycle repairs and pain to his body. With the opportunity to cut his losses, he booked it, with my blessing.

We quickly repacked all the gear on the side of the road. Rocky swapped places with Living after arguing about the price of the motorbike taxi and we came to Sunya’s boma. Each boma belongs to one man. The goats and cows can live inside with the family. For Maasai, cows and goats are everything. The rich Maasai don’t build a nicer house, they buy more cows. The wealthiest Maasai likely live in the same mud houses as any other, even if they own 200 cattle.

I showered under a tree outside, filling my bucket from a spring fed source. It was one of the more natural showers I’ve taken. Sunya called from the village while we ate dinner. He was arranging our climb. We had declined to rent a car for $70 to take us to the trailhead, instead opting to walk. Sunya told us we would need to pay $30 to have a local guide escort us on motorbike. I told him No. We don’t need an escort. He said we’re not allowed to walk alone, there are hyenas. I told him we walked from Tanga, we’re not scared of hyenas. The conversation went in circles. I got upset and hung up on his colleague who, in an interesting negotiating tactic, asked for $70 instead of $30. Sunya called back and asked to talk to Rocky. Rocky told him we would pay $30k ($12) more, that’s it. Sunya said okay. We went to bed by 9pm to rest up for the climb.

Ol Doinyo Lengai

We woke up at 1 am after about four hours of sleep. I can go to some pretty dark mental places when I trudge through sand (in sandals) in the night deprived of sleep. This was no exception. I seethed with anger that Sunya tried to heckle me for more money at 8pm (my bed time) after we paid everything upfront no questions asked. The mountain in the distance and sky full of stars merely gave a backdrop to my anger.

After 3 hours of, trudging, yes that is the right word, through sand, we arrived at the trailhead. I put on my sneakers, padding my socks with more socks and laced up for a big effort. At 4:26am we started running. The slope gradually steepened but seemed not to get less sandy. We cruised at a good speed for an hour. I stopped, drank water, and ate bread. And then we were off again. The climb got steeper and steeper and our pace slowed.

But soon enough, at 6:40, we rose up over the rim of the volcano to one wild sight. Another American sitting on the top, Lance from Iowa, said it well, “One of the most elusive emotions is awe because you can only experience something unbelievable for the first time once, and as you get older, less things are unbelievable.” This view did truly inspire awe for me.

I have never before looked into the inside of of an active volcano spewing lava with a perfectly circular rim and crater. This looked like Mt Doom or the Lord of the Rings. We watched the sun rise over the volcano as it gurgled, spit, chundered, splattered, and stewed for over an hour. Ol Doinyo Lengai is a sacred mountain for the Maasai people and known as “Mountain of God” in their language.

The Americans had started climbing at 10pm. We woke up at 1 am, walked to the trailhead, started at almost 4:30, and still met them on top. They were impressed. Until meeting them, I felt bad that we forgot trekking poles which would have made us faster.

Near the bottom we finally met our local guide who got his motorbike stuck in the sand when we trudged to the trailhead. He said, you guys must’ve set a record, I’ve never seen anything like that before. That made me feel cool, but I was still upset for feeling like I’d been taken advantage of. $70 to pay this guy extra because we walked to the trailhead? Consequently, I didn’t accept any help from him, not even water. At the bottom, I took off my sneakers, put my sandals back on, and Rocky and I started running back to our camp in Sunya’s boma. That’s where we are now.

Sunya just asked for $35 more; he forgot one of the fees yesterday. I didn’t get mad. I told him I’m an honest person, I’ll pay you what I owe you, but I need to see proof of the charge. That seemed to end the conversation for now. His family fed us a delicious meal of goat milk chai, rice, and goat meat. Perhaps a bit of a biff that my first Maasai immersion has been clouded by money arguments, but I’ll chalk it up to having a more genuine African experience. There’s a practical component of watching my cash like a hawk— we have no more atms between here and Kenya.

Sunya doesn’t know why we’re running or that we’re raising money for charity— it would feel weird to tell him now and make him feel guilty. Speaking of the fundraiser, things appear to have stalled. Any ideas? You can reply to this email to let me know.

Love,
Olly

P.S. Living wrote a beautiful blog about our adventure to Ketumbeine here. Reading his perspective was surprising and exciting for me, as he actually had time to meet people in the communities we ran to.