TRAVEL: Exploring Ngurunit

The little-known northern lands with surreal views are very much worth exploring. PHOTO| RUPI MANGAT

What you need to know:

  • Having enjoyed a picnic breakfast and wanting to beat the sun’s increasing intensity, Ntetekwa and I stroll back along the same path while the Lemunyetes’ scale a ridge to toughen their muscles for Kilimanjaro.

  • Eventually Loiweti makes it to the Uhuru Peak, Laura to Gilman’s and Naiboku manages 5000 metres.

In the plains surrounded by the many mountains of the Ndoto range in Kenya’s northern drylands, there’s a singular mountain that catches everyone’s eye: Poi – a sheer rock face towering over the tiny village of Ngurunit.

Driven by necessity by the long dry spells and drought, only the tough pastoral herders scale the massif where their cattle can graze at the very top.

From every facet of Ngurunit and beyond, Poi is what the Eiffel Tower is to Paris or the Taj Mahal is to India, its bare cliff face changing colours from dawn to dusk as the sun travels across the sky.

In this land of the mountains dotted with thorn trees, the Lemunyete trio of mother, son and daughter (Laura, Loiweti and Naiboku respectively) scale and hike as many of the massifs in preparation for the daunting climb up to the roof of Africa – Mount

Kilimanjaro, to raise funds for Rotary projects.

At the crack of dawn, we’re walking through a narrow gulley between the massifs. The plains become a heated cauldron and it’s only the sparse shade and the forests of the mountains that give refuge to the shade-seeker

The narrow path through the gulleys and dry luggas leads us up a steep path to an enchanted forest of colours of commiphora trees in full bloom.

The flowers change from shades of pink to scarlet as the sun gets hotter. The youngsters collect the resin to chew on. The path leads to a gorge lined with stunning rocks sculpted by water and weathered by years of sun and rain.

And on every one of the bigger rocks rests smaller stones placed by those who pass through to remember the morans who passed through the very gorge to retrieve their stolen cattle from the warring enemies many moons ago. It’s a story that 16-year-old

Ntetekwa, the Lemunyete niece tells me.

The world through the rock-littered path suddenly opens to an endless flat plain – green to the ends of the horizon. We clamber atop a gigantic rock face.

Scattered hills and mountains dot the land with Mount Marsabit faint many miles away. On the bare rock face with slits cracked open by the merciless sun, desert flowers bloom with the acacia in full leaf.

Having enjoyed a picnic breakfast and wanting to beat the sun’s increasing intensity, Ntetekwa and I stroll back along the same path while the Lemunyetes’ scale a ridge to toughen their muscles for Kilimanjaro.

Eventually Loiweti makes it to the Uhuru Peak, Laura to Gilman’s and Naiboku manages 5000 metres.

Camel bells sound from afar. Ntetekwa and I watch the camels walk along the narrow gorge led by bush-savvy Samburu kids to the pastures. It’s like a biblical scene. A young lean muscled moran stops to chat with us, bare-chested with beads adorning him

and a red shuka draped around the waist. He could be Adonis.

I ask him if all the camels are his – they are. I ask him how many he has. He’s aghast. “He says it is rude to ask that,” translates Ntetekwa. “It’s like asking you how much money you have in the bank.” I apologise.

A beaded village belle passes with her goats while Ntetekwa points to the rocky lair of the leopard up  the hill. “It likes goats,” she says.

Clouds gather late in the afternoon as we enjoy a swim in the mountain river. It’s Ngurunit River with its many cascades over the mountain rocks and pools. The river that flows through the village never dried until people began to settle around it. Now

Ngurunit dries up for months as droughts get closer and longer. But on the high slopes surrounded by the cliffs and forests, it’s always flowing and provides an ethereal escape.