We found that Elsa marched well until about nine in the morning, then she began to feel the heat and kept stopping wherever a rock or bush gave shade. In the afternoon, she was reluctant to move before five; after that, once her pads had hardened, she could have gone on all night. On an average she trotted from seven to eight hours daily, and kept in wonderful condition. She dipped herself in the lake and swam as often as possible, often only six or eight feet from the crocodiles; no shouting or waving on my part would bring her back till she felt like doing so. Usually we reached camp between eight and nine in the evening; often the donkey party would fire Very lights to guide us.
The second day out we left the last human habitation behind us; it was a small fishing village of the primitive El Molo tribe. This tribe numbers about eighty souls who live almost entirely on fish, varied occasionally by crocodile and hippo meat. As a result of this badly balanced diet and of inter-breeding many of them are deformed and show signs of rickets. Perhaps also owing to malnutrition or, more likely, to the fact that the lake water contains a high proportion of natron and other minerals, they also suffer from bad teeth and gums. They are a friendly and generous people and a stranger is always welcomed with a gift of fresh fish. Their fishing is mostly carried on by means of nets, which they make out of doum-palm fibre, the only fibre that does not rot in the alkaline water; while the giant Nile perch, which runs up to 200 pounds and over, and crocodile and hippo, are harpooned from rafts made from three palm logs lashed roughly together. These unwieldy craft are poled along in the shallows and never venture far out for fear of the violent winds which often sweep the lake and sometimes attain a velocity of over ninety miles an hour. Indeed it is the wind which makes life thoroughly uncomfortable for any traveller in this region. It is impossible to pitch a tent, food is either blown out of the plate before one can eat it, or so covered with grit as to be inedible. Sleep is almost impossible because of the tearing gusts which fill eyes, nose and ears with sand and almost lift up the bed. Yet, in spite of these torments, the lake has real beauty in its quieter moments, and exercises a fascination difficult to describe, which makes one want to return again and again.
The first ten days took us along its shore. The country around was grim: lava and more lava, only the consistency of the lava differed. Sometimes it was cinder-fine dust, at others sharp-edged so that our feet became sore from slipping and sliding over the uneven ground. In certain places there was deep sand, and as we waded along each step was an effort. Or again, we had to make our way across coarse grit or pebbles and at all times the hot wind blew, sapping our energy and making us feel dizzy. There was little vegetation, only a few thorny meagre plants which pricked, and razor-edged grass, which cut the skin.
To keep Elsa’s paws in good condition, I had often to grease them, an act which she seemed to understand and to like. During the midday rest, I usually lay on my camp bed so as to be able to relax in more comfort than the hard pebbles provided. Elsa saw the point of this, adopted my idea and joined me. Soon I could consider myself fortunate if she left me a small corner, and sometimes I was unlucky and had to sit on the ground while she stretched herself full-length on the bed. But as a rule we curled up together on the bed, I hoping that it might not break beneath our combined weight. During our long marches Nuru always carried drinking water and a bowl for Elsa; she had her evening meal towards nine o’clock and afterwards slept heavily, tied up near my bed.
One evening we lost our way and were guided by Very lights to the camp, which we reached late at night. Elsa seemed exhausted, so I left her unchained to recover; but although she looked sleepy she suddenly rushed at full speed to the thorn enclosure in which the donkeys spent the night, and crashed through the fence in real feline style. Braying, panic and pandemonium ensued and before we could intervene, all the donkeys had bolted into the darkness. Luckily, we soon caught Elsa and I gave her a good hiding. She seemed to understand that she deserved it and, as far as she could, showed that she was sorry. I felt guilty at having underestimated her natural instinct and the tremendous temptation that a nice-smelling donkey herd must be to her, especially at an hour when the hunting spirit is most alive in wild animals.
Luckily only one poor donkey had received scratches and these were not serious. I dressed them and they soon healed, but this episode was a warning to me never to leave her unguarded.
Fish were plentiful and, as a rule, George and Julian were able to keep the camp supplied with delicious fish called giant tilapia, a spécialité unique to Lake Rudolf. These they caught either by rod or line, or by stunning them with a rifle bullet. The Game Scouts seemed to prefer the ugly-looking catfish which lay in the shallows and which they were able to kill with sticks and stones. Elsa was always ready to join in the fun and sometimes she would retrieve a catfish, soon to drop it and wrinkle up her nose in disgust. One day we saw Nuru, who always carried a shotgun, lifting it up by the barrel and clubbing a catfish with it. He did this with such force that the stock split through in many places, broke and projected at right angles to the barrel. Nuru was so delighted with his catfish that he was quite oblivious to the damage he had done. When George pointed it out to him, he replied calmly, ‘Oh, Mungo [God] will help you to get another gun.’ Elsa, however, took her revenge, for she ran off with Nuru’s sandals which he had left on the shore, and galloped away with them; it was a funny sight to watch the two trying to outwit each other. In the end, the sandals were in poor shape when their owner got them back.
Before we reached Alia Bay some hundred miles to the north it was necessary to cross the long Longondoti range. In several places the hills fall straight into the lake, so the donkeys with their bulky loads had to make a detour inland, while the lion party struggled across the rocks and kept to the shore. At one point we looked like being defeated by a difficult corner, for here Elsa, to wade round the point, had the choice of either jumping down a fifteen-foot cliff, covered with a slippery deposit on which it was impossible for her to get any grip, to land in the shallow water below, or scrambling down an equally steep rock to land in the foaming waters which crashed against its foot. The water was in fact only about her own depth, but the foam made it look very dangerous and she did not know what to do. She tried every ledge of the rock, padding desperately on her small platform, till bravely she jumped into the lashing waves and finally, coaxed by us, soon reached dry ground. It was touching to see how delighted and proud she was of her achievement and also at having pleased us.
For most of the way we had to drink and to cook with brackish lake water which, although harmless and so soft that it is beautiful for bathing and does not need soap for washing, has a disagreeable taste and tainted all our food. So it was indeed a pleasant surprise to find a little spring of fresh water at the foot of the hills called Moiti.
The route we took along the western foot of these hills had, so far as we knew, never before been travelled by a European; the few who had visited this region in the past had kept well to the east. Nine days out of Loyongalane, we camped at the northern end of the hills. As usual, we had sent a party of Game Scouts ahead to spy out the country and keep a lookout for poachers. Early in the afternoon they returned and reported seeing a large body of men in canoes. The only tribe on the lake which possesses proper dugout canoes is the Galubba, a turbulent people, well supplied with rifles, who constantly carry out raids from across the Ethiopian border into our territory, looting and murdering. The band which the Scouts had seen might be either a raiding party, or a poaching and fishing expedition. In any case, they had no right to be there. Elsa and I remained in camp, with four Game Scouts armed with rifles to protect us, while the rest of the party went off to reconnoitre.
When they had reached the top of a ridge which overlooked the bay, they saw three canoes with twelve men on board, close in shore, paddling in the direction of our camp. However, they at once spotted our party, so that by the time George and the other men had reached the water’s edge the canoes were a good 2
00 yards out, making for a small island and paddling madly. They did not appear to have firearms, though, of course, they might have had rifles concealed in the canoes. Looking through glasses, George saw a body of at least forty men on the island and several canoes drawn up on its shore. He watched the canoes reach the beach and an obviously excited group gather round them. Then – since without a boat there was nothing much that they could do – the party returned to camp. We packed up at once and moved to the bay below, as close as possible to the island. That night, extra sentries were posted and every man slept with his rifle, loaded, beside him. When dawn broke, we saw that the island was deserted. Evidently the Galubba had not liked the look of us and had decided to get away during the hours of darkness, in spite of a heavy gale which had blown up during the night. To make sure that they really had gone, George sent patrols along the shore. Soon after sun-up we saw a multitude of vultures and marabous descending upon the island; this led us to suppose that the Galubba had been on a poaching and fishing expedition and had no doubt killed several hippo, on the remains of which the vultures and storks had come to feast.
At about eleven in the morning two canoes suddenly issued out of a dense belt of reeds, to the south of the camp, and made for open water. To discourage them, George put a few bullets across their bows, which sent them back into the reeds in a hurry. He then sent some Scouts to try to make contact with the Galubba and persuade them to come ashore. But, although the Scouts managed to get within hailing distance, the poachers would not respond and retreated farther into the swamp. Throughout the day, we could see their heads bobbing above the reeds to inspect us. We estimated that there were four canoes in the reeds, probably stragglers from the main body. Since it was impossible to reach them, George thought the next best thing was to encourage them to make for home so, as soon as it was dark, he fired tracer bullets and a few Very lights at intervals over the swamp.
By now our supplies were running low and it was time to turn back. As it turned out, the first part of the safari had been luxury compared to the second because we had had plenty of water from the lake. Now, instead of retracing our steps, we decided to take an inland route. Goite, our Turkana guide, did not seem very sure of the way and, what was worse, was not certain whether we should find water when needed. For the region was dependent on waterholes, which at this dry season were few and far between. George, however, calculated that we should never be more than a long day’s march from the lake so, if pressed for water, could make for it. We missed the cooling breeze off the lake, and there were times when I felt nearly dehydrated by the heat. The country here was even more desolate than the one we had passed through on our outward march. There was nothing but lava, so, understandably, there was little game and no population. Luckily we had bought sheep at Loyongalane and, though Elsa’s living larder was rapidly dwindling away, it was sufficient to solve her feeding problem. But all of us lost most of our surplus weight during this time. Our march back was rapid, because the donkeys were now carrying less weight and, much of the route being waterless, we had to do longer marches.
After eighteen days we got back to Loyongalane and spent three days there, refitting, mending saddlery, etc., in preparation for the second part of our safari, the ascent of Mount Kulal. This mountain which lies twenty miles east of the lake rises out of the surrounding desert to about 7,500 feet, it catches all the moisture from the monsoon on its upper levels and has developed rich forest on its summit. It is a narrow volcano, twenty-eight miles long, with a crater in the centre about four miles wide. This crater is split in half and divides the mountain into a southern and northern portion. There is a theory that, after the volcano became extinct, an earthquake broke Kulal into deep crevasses, and cracked the awe-inspiring fissure through the crater. Its smooth walls are split like the peel of an orange when it is cut. These deep ridges fall 3,000 feet from the crater’s lip. At the bottom, invisible from the top, is a gorge called Il Sigata which leads into the heart of the mountain. Its sheer walls tower hundreds of feet high and the opening is in places so narrow that the sky above is only visible through a slit. We tried to explore the gorge, entering from the only accessible opening, which lies towards the eastern foot of Kulal, but we were defeated, after a few hours, by huge rocks and deep waterpools which blocked the way.
To cover the mountain thoroughly it was necessary to go up one half, down again to the bottom and then up the second part.
The object of the safari was to find out whether the game on the mountain was holding its own, or decreasing as a result of poaching, by comparing the present situation with that found by George, when twelve years previously he had last visited the area. In particular, we wanted to investigate the state of the greater kudu.
Kulal does not look impressive from below: a long stretching mountain, with broad ridges leading to its summit. As we were to discover, these ridges became so narrow that the approaches for pack animals are very limited.
The first day’s march, over thickly strewn lava boulders, was extremely arduous for laden animals. Later the ascent up knife-edged ridges was, in many places, very difficult to negotiate and we found it necessary to off-load the donkeys and manhandle the loads.
On the second night we were two-thirds of the way up the mountain and camped in a precipitous valley choked with lava boulders, near a little spring which provided just sufficient water for one animal at a time. It was very late before the last donkey had its much needed drink. This was one of the few waterholes on Kulal and so it was naturally a vital centre for the Samburu tribesmen who bring their livestock up to Kulal in the dry season.
It must have been difficult for Elsa, to meet these large herds of camels, cattle, goats and sheep around this and other waterholes; but she was intelligent and good-natured and, apparently realizing what the situation was, she put up with the tantalizing smell of these animals which often passed within a few feet of her. On these occasions we put her on the chain but she made no attempt to attack and only wanted to get away from the dust and the noise.
The route up Kulal was steep and the climate became arctic as we reached the higher slopes. We walked over saddles, crossed deep ravines and struggled along precipices. Here the bush was lower and then it changed into beautiful alpine flora.
Next morning we reached the top of Kulal; it was a relief to be walking on more or less even ground. Camp was pitched in a beautiful little glade, close to a rather muddy spring, fouled by the cattle of the Samburu tribesmen. Their astonishment was great at finding a nearly fully grown lion in our camp.
In the dense forest belt near the top on most mornings there was heavy mist, so we made a blazing cedar-log fire to keep us warm. At night it was so cold that I kept Elsa in my small tent, made her a nest of lichen and covered her with my warmest blanket. Most of my night was usually spent replacing it as it fell off continually and Elsa would begin to shiver. When I did this, she always licked my arm. She never made any attempt to tear the tent and get out; on the contrary she remained in it long after her usual waking hour, snuggling in her nest, where she was warm and cosy, whereas outside there was a blasting gale and wet mist. But as soon as the sun had cleared the fog away, she came to life and enjoyed the invigorating mountain air. Indeed she loved the place, for the ground was soft and cool, the forest gave thick shade and there were plenty of buffalo droppings to roll in.
Because of the shade and altitude, walking during the heat of the day was no effort in this region, and she was able to explore the mountain with us. She watched the eagles circling high in the air and was annoyed by the crows who followed her and dived low to tease her, and on one occasion woke a buffalo out of his sleep and chased him. She had excellent scent, hearing and eyesight and never lost herself in the thick undergrowth. One afternoon we were following the advance party, which had gone well ahead through the forest, and Elsa was ambushing us in a playful way from behind every bush, when suddenly, from the direction in which she had just disappeared, we heard a panic-s
tricken bray. A moment later a donkey broke through the wood with Elsa clinging to it and mauling it. Fortunately the forest was so thick that they could not go very fast, so we quickly reached the struggling pair and gave Elsa the beating we thought she deserved; she had never done anything of this sort before, and I was very much alarmed, for I had prided myself on the fact that she always obeyed my call instead of chasing an animal unduly. But again I could only blame myself for not putting Elsa on the lead.
One day we stood on the lip of the crater which divides the mountain and looked across to the northern part which was not more than four miles distant, though we knew that it would take us a full two days’ march to get there. Nonchalantly Elsa balanced herself on the edge of the two thousand foot precipice, a sight which nearly sent me into hysterics. But animals seem to have no fear of heights. The following day we descended and the safari reached the mouth of the great Il Sigata gorge; there we made camp.
During the day thousands of camels, goats and sheep herded by tall, good-looking Rendile tribesmen, passed by on their way to water four miles up the gorge. They were followed by women leading strings of camels tied nose to tail loaded with water containers. These held about six gallons each and were made of closely woven fibre. We walked up the cleft, or rather, literally into the mountain. The floor of the gorge is a dry watercourse which, for about five miles, rises gently between towering walls which climb sharply on each side; when one penetrates still farther these walls attain some 1,500 feet in height and are sheer precipice. In places the gorge is so narrow that two laden camels cannot pass abreast and the cliffs overhang, shutting out the sky. We went far beyond the watering place of the stock, where the trickle of water becomes a sizable brook, with many rockbound pools of clear water. Finally we were halted by a sheer fall of thirty feet. Herbert, who is a mountaineer, managed to get up it only to find another high fall beyond.