A night on Ololokwe
Kenya’s Great North Road is true to its name. Also known (somewhat less romantically) as the A2, it stretches for 775 kilometres from the heart of Nairobi to the town of Moyale on the Ethiopian border. Beyond the congested outskirts of the city, it winds through the central highlands around Mount Kenya, and then descends into the vast arid shrublands of the north. It’s a great way to experience Kenya’s varied landscapes, and was the ideal route for my first trip out of the city after a lengthy COVID-induced lockdown.
We didn’t follow it to its end in Moyale, though. Our destination was roughly around its middle, on top of one of northern Kenya’s most iconic landmarks — Mount Ololokwe. This ancient rocky outcrop isn’t the region’s tallest mountain, but it’s certainly its most recognisable. Ololokwe means ‘wide head’ in the local Samburu language, and with a top half of smooth, rounded rock it’s clear to see why it was given that name. Because the Great North Road leads directly to it, it’s also impossible to miss.
Our plan was to spend a night at an eco-camp called Sabache at the base of the mountain, before hiking up and camping on the summit. To get to Sabache, we veered off the main road and followed a dirt track through a forest of sweet-scented acacia tortilis trees. The camp is well-positioned in a broad valley between Ololokwe and two smaller adjacent peaks. Its 11 traditional safari tents are spread out around a thatch and stone kitchen and dining area, and those higher up have wide views back down into the valley. After a six-hour drive, it was great to have a hot shower in the open-air bathroom behind my tent — except for the split-second of panic when I spotted the ‘monkey-scaring’ stuffed toy leopard perched above the toilet.
In the evening we enjoyed a fireside dinner, and planned the morning’s trek up the mountain. Our Samburu guide, Lemaiyan, told us it would take three hours to reach the summit, along elephant and cattle paths. We all retired to our tents early to prepare. At around 3 am I was woken up by a sudden racket. A troop of baboons was alarm-calling — their frenzied barks echoing across the valley. I doubt whatever spooked them was stuffed.
At dawn I was woken up again by a commotion below. More high pitched calls, but this time by young herders driving their donkeys towards a stream. The steep valley sides amplified the clopping of hooves on the dry, rocky riverbed. We all gathered our supplies and met at the starting point of the hike. Campers up the mountain have to be completely self-sufficient, although we would be accompanied by a group of porters to help lug our equipment.
The initial stretch of the climb was particularly steep. We weaved up the eastern slope along dusty, well-trodden paths, stopping frequently to take in the views and hydrate. There were clues everywhere of the other creatures that had used this route. We wandered past dry mounds of dung, and trees stripped of their bark by elephants. I’m often amazed at the terrain that elephants can navigate. The paths up Ololokwe seemed far too steep and narrow for such large, ungainly animals.
The distance between rest stops shortened as the morning’s heat intensified. Eventually our climb levelled out, and our surroundings began to change as we neared the summit. It soon became clear what was drawing the elephants here. Across the top are patches of cloud forest, sustained by moisture-laden air currents that swirl above the mountain. Around the forests are natural springs — near permanent sources of water for wildlife and livestock. Lemaiyan told us that cattle can graze for as long as four months up here in the dry season.
We continued through a dense stretch of cedar forest. Along the way, Lemaiyan pointed out various plants used as medicine by the Samburu. We then stumbled across a small tipilikwa shrub with a tower of stones stacked within a tangle of branches. We each placed our own stone onto the pile and made a wish, as is tradition for first time visitors to this sacred mountain.
Nearby was a palm-like tree with dark green fronds and yellow corncob-shaped cones. We spotted more of them as we trekked across the summit. These were Matthews Cycads, endemic to Kenya and with origins stretching back 280 million years to a time before dinosaurs. Because the montane forests in this part of country are isolated by the arid lands that surrounds them, they have been allowed to evolve in their own direction. So these cycads are true living fossils.
We emerged from the forest onto a gradual slope of exposed metamorphic rock. We’d been climbing for over three hours, so we knew we couldn’t be far off our campsite by the mountain’s southern edge. The smooth rock finally flattened, and then suddenly disappeared and revealed the most spectacular view. We shed our backpacks and gazed out over northern Kenya. The straight Great North Road cut across winding seasonal rivers, and vast blotches of white and red soil. Thermalling vultures occasionally drifted into view, before vanishing again below the edge of the cliff. Our exhausting climb was soon forgotten.
In the evening the weather shifted, and it rained for the first time in five months. Strong winds battered our tents throughout the night, and Lemaiyan left our camp to take shelter in a nearby cave. At dawn, the summit was cloaked in a blanket of fog. I wandered as far as I dared to the edge, and watched a faint orange glow appear through the haze. Every few minutes I got a glimpse of the landscape, before another white screen swirled up from below. It was as if the mountain had only offered the view the day before as a reward for our climb, and I would have to come back to see it again. It won’t be long before I return to claim my prize.
For more information about Sabache Camp and hikes up Ololokwe visit sabachecamp.com, or email info@sabachecamp.com.