Sometimes my life is a true comedy of errors. This is one of those times.
Hell's Gate National Park is one of the only places you can actually get out of the car and walk amongst the wildlife in Africa without fear of being mauled by anything bigger than a warthog. With this in mind, A and I decided to shake the cobwebs off our hiking boots and walk the 10Ks to the entrance, rent bikes, and ride around for an entire day.
Did I say 10 Ks? Yeah, that was error #1. For the Americans out there who prefer their distances in a more digestible unit of measurement, 10 kilometers equals roughly 7 miles (I think). And seven miles should be cake. This, however, was not. After three hours strolling down dusty roads and dodging dodgy vans and mule drawn carts, we started to realize that every time we've asked someone how far something is or how long it should take, their answer is inevitably off by at least 50%. So by that logic, our 10 Ks were actually more like 15. But whatevs. No worries. We're fit and able.
Did I say we're fit and able? Error #2. We rented bikes off an old man named George and peddled into the park, guided by a map torn from A's Lonely Planet. It was, in a word, shit. Nothing on the map made any sense. The distances were wrong. The roads were wrong. The descriptions of the sites, nonexistent. I had seen photos of this amazing gorge that I really wanted to visit, and somehow got it stuck in my head that it was part of the Obsidian Caves.
Did I say the gorge was in the Obsidian Caves? Error #3. The Obsidian Caves were no more caves than a pothole is a swimming pool. And they're insanely hard to get to. Especially on a bike made for an eight year old. Every time I pedaled, my knees would practically knock my boobs--and my voluptuousness had nothing to do with it. Add to that a 45 degree incline through ash and sand, and heat like an erupting volcano, and you have the recipe for pure misery. But it was only supposed to be a 14 K loop, so again, no worries.
Did I say 14 Ks? Error #4. Try about 30. Uphill. Both ways. Ok, no, not really, but it felt that way. Finally getting to the downhill part, I thought nothing could dampen my excitement.
Did I say nothing? Error #5. A flat tire will dampen anyone's excitement. I was traveling at what felt like a breakneck speed until I almost broke my neck for real. But being the responsible person that I am, my concern was more for the bike than for myself. I didn't want to mess up the rims. I ended up riding it until we reached a sign indicating that we only had 7K more to go, at which point we decided to stop for a banana break. While sitting on the side of the road, four of our friends rode up to save the day and tell us where the gorge really was.
Hell's Gate National Park is one of the only places you can actually get out of the car and walk amongst the wildlife in Africa without fear of being mauled by anything bigger than a warthog. With this in mind, A and I decided to shake the cobwebs off our hiking boots and walk the 10Ks to the entrance, rent bikes, and ride around for an entire day.
Did I say 10 Ks? Yeah, that was error #1. For the Americans out there who prefer their distances in a more digestible unit of measurement, 10 kilometers equals roughly 7 miles (I think). And seven miles should be cake. This, however, was not. After three hours strolling down dusty roads and dodging dodgy vans and mule drawn carts, we started to realize that every time we've asked someone how far something is or how long it should take, their answer is inevitably off by at least 50%. So by that logic, our 10 Ks were actually more like 15. But whatevs. No worries. We're fit and able.
Did I say we're fit and able? Error #2. We rented bikes off an old man named George and peddled into the park, guided by a map torn from A's Lonely Planet. It was, in a word, shit. Nothing on the map made any sense. The distances were wrong. The roads were wrong. The descriptions of the sites, nonexistent. I had seen photos of this amazing gorge that I really wanted to visit, and somehow got it stuck in my head that it was part of the Obsidian Caves.
Did I say the gorge was in the Obsidian Caves? Error #3. The Obsidian Caves were no more caves than a pothole is a swimming pool. And they're insanely hard to get to. Especially on a bike made for an eight year old. Every time I pedaled, my knees would practically knock my boobs--and my voluptuousness had nothing to do with it. Add to that a 45 degree incline through ash and sand, and heat like an erupting volcano, and you have the recipe for pure misery. But it was only supposed to be a 14 K loop, so again, no worries.
Did I say 14 Ks? Error #4. Try about 30. Uphill. Both ways. Ok, no, not really, but it felt that way. Finally getting to the downhill part, I thought nothing could dampen my excitement.
Did I say nothing? Error #5. A flat tire will dampen anyone's excitement. I was traveling at what felt like a breakneck speed until I almost broke my neck for real. But being the responsible person that I am, my concern was more for the bike than for myself. I didn't want to mess up the rims. I ended up riding it until we reached a sign indicating that we only had 7K more to go, at which point we decided to stop for a banana break. While sitting on the side of the road, four of our friends rode up to save the day and tell us where the gorge really was.
Where was the gorge, you ask? It was a couple kilometers down a FLAT, delightful road. And was it amazing? Yes, it was. But by this time A and I were too hot and tired to be bothered. Plus, we still had my flat tire to deal with. My friend Scot was nice enough to swap bikes with me (he had no problem messing up the rim), and we rode all the way back to George-the-bike-man.
In the end, he was more concerned about my happiness than his effed-up bike, and he gave me a free bottle of water for my trouble.
And while I mention the word misery in this post, I wouldn't trade that day for the world.
Side note: Before going to Hell's Gate, I asked a local where it got its name. Apparently, the white people killed a lot of black people in the area. I'll be doing a little more research later to fill in the details. But that made for an awkward conversation. Muzungu guilt strikes again.
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