Hell's Gate National Park: A Bike Safari Through Kenya's Wildest Terrain

My eyes squint as the wind kicks up dust from the ground. My body burns from the bike ride I took just to get to the park entrance. I pass through the gate already on fire, trying to pace myself for the long ride I still have. I’m scanning for trees to provide even a tiny bit of shade from the sun that’s bearing down too quickly. Then the hills I was riding through rise higher and higher until they become cliffs. While I’m enjoying the views, the call of an animal rings in my ears while I pedal. Its head snakes along the ground before rising up. It looks at me, but dismisses me as not a threat and goes back to pecking the ground as it searches for its food. I stand still for a few minutes, taking it in. Then I remember I have my camera and snap a picture of the first ostrich I’ve seen in the wild. 

Many people told me that if I made it to Kenya, I’d regret missing the safari in Hell’s Gate National Park. No cars, no guides, just me and nature. Bike paths run throughout the park, which features volcanic cliffs, spires that reach into the sky, and geothermal vents that power the country.

I shake my head in amazement and pedal on, ready to see what else the park has for me. I’m coming around the corner when I see flashes of black through the brown grass. As I get closer, the black mass grows larger and larger. They start to separate into individual large black spots, and then I’m mere lengths away from a family of buffalo. Three adults and their young. I can pick out clear details: the scars on their horns, the dampness on their muzzles, the muscles rippling beneath their skin as they walk. One slows down as the group walks past me. A male, definitely the biggest one, stops and stands between me and the others. My breath catches in my throat as we lock eyes, and its strength rolls over me just from its gaze. After all the safaris I’d been on, I thought this would be like any other one, but I felt exposed. And that’s something no other safari has given me. 

I’ve been face-to-face with a lion close enough to see saliva drip from its jaws. I’ve driven by hyenas and watched them guard their young while they played around their den. I’ve seen crocodiles climb out of the water close enough to touch them. But all with something between them and me, the car, a ranger ready to protect. This time, the buffalo stands ready to protect its family, and I feel just one more inch would be too close. The sun shines heavily, and I can’t tell if I’m sweating from the unease or the heat. A bead of sweat rolls into my eye, and I want to brush it away, but any move feels wrong as I’m stared down. 

How fast could I get off this bike? Where is the nearest tree? Those are the only things on my mind as time stops. 

Forever passes in this moment, and the calf finally passes behind the father. He snorts a breath and turns away. I let out my breath in a long exhale. My throat has gone dry, so I take a long drink from my water bottle, letting the moment I just had settle in. 

I keep biking, running into zebras and giraffes, getting impossibly close to them. Eventually, I reach an asphalt road that branches off into two directions. At the park entrance, there was a map labeled with geothermal vents and pools. I made it my mission to see at least one of them, and now I’m at the fork in the road. I took a picture of the map, but my navigation skills let me down when I couldn’t pinpoint my position. It’s early enough in the day that I have time to explore both roads. I turn left, and it’s all uphill. I shift gears back and forth as I try to find the best one to get to the top. In fits and bursts of energy, I make it halfway up before I see a truck coming the opposite way. I stop them and ask if this is the way to the vents, but they seem confused as I gestured and played charades, trying to get my point across. They drove off with smiles, while I was no closer to knowing where I was, so I kept going. As I crest the top, I see fences and piping. My gamble did not pay off, as a power plant vent released steam that smelled like rotten eggs.

At least the return trip is all downhill, and I relish feeling the air whip across my face as I kick my legs out and fly. It’s time to try the other path, and this one is even more unforgiving than the last. The hill continues up and up, and I can’t see the top, but I’m determined to see these vents, and there’s no hill high enough to stop me. But there are hills high enough to make me pause. I have to take several breaks, and with each push of the pedal, my legs cramp. I’m missing my downhill ride right about now, and after an agonizing leg exercise, I reach the top. I am only met with another power plant. 

The road here continues around the plant, and so I keep going for almost another hour before finally reaching it. My holy grail. The last vent. Or so I thought. Pipes sprout from the ground, spreading across the landscape in every direction I can see. It seems these grey snakes have reached all the vents. The last one that was marked has been converted into a spa, but the staff there are nice, so they let me in to see and feel the water. It wasn’t what I was expecting, but it was still a nice oasis in the middle of a national park.

Now it’s time for the ride back. The animals must have all gotten a memo because there isn’t a single one in sight. Then, a clap echoes across the sky. Minutes later, perspiration isn’t the only thing wetting my forehead as rain begins to fall. It’s almost welcome as it cools me down, until it starts to seep into my clothes. My legs are propelling me along to get out of the park before the storm really starts to come down. The park is sneaky. It's downhill just enough that you don’t realize it. The sun that was beaming before is hidden behind a wall of grey now, and it’s when I’m trying all my gears to find an easier one that I realize the exit is uphill. While I’m pedaling my hardest to reach the park entrance, the stillness brought about by the rain isn’t lost on me. With the clouded sky and the sound of rain drumming the path, I slow down as drops collect on me while I see the gate in the distance.

Book that’s currently distracting me from writing my next blog post: The Daevabad Trilogy x S. A. Chakraborty

Song that is probably getting played way too many times: Inwood Hill X 6lack