The safari was due to depart at 9 a.m. and as it was opposite my hotel I had no problem being there in time. I even had time to drop in to a supermarket and buy a T-shirt and mosquito repellent.

It turned out we were 26 people going, on two big open trucks. My truck even had a name, "Prince George", and we were 14 people on it. They were Erick and Ingrid from France and Austria, Derek from Northern Ireland (with whom I shared the tent), Jim and Cyndy from the USA, Steve and Carolyn from the UK, Gregg and Anne from New Zealand, Tammy, Scott and Troy from the USA and Joy from England. The truck could seat 20 people so there was plenty of space. Our driver, and tour leader, an African, was called the Captain and he was assisted by two cooks as well as three people in the other truck.

The people on the other truck, the "Queen Victoria", whom I did not get to know too well, were mainly Australians and Americans and some Europeans. I did get to know though Laura from Philadelphia, Shelley from Sydney, John and Mary from England and Daniel and Aline from Belgium.

We passed through the outskirts of Nairobi and some terrible shantytowns and came out into the countryside of the highlands. It was very cold and draughty. The highlands are some 5,500 feet above sea level and the speed wind from the truck made it even colder. I remember being struck by the very varied landscape, thick rain forests were mixed with highland plains and high mountains. The areas we passed through were very cultivated and very populous.

The road was filled with people walking or on bicycles and it all reminded me a little of China. There were hordes of children everywhere and I knew that of the population of Kenya was under 15 years and also that every Kenyan woman gives birth to on average an amazing 6.7 children.

The people were very friendly. Almost everybody was waving to us and it did not take long to feel like some important celebrity. The children in particular thought we were a great sight and were screaming "wazungu" (white man) at the top of their voices and came rushing after the trucks.

After a few hours we had our first stop at the entrance to the Rift Valley. The view of the 30 miles wide and 2,000 feet deep valley was very dramatic. I had a similar sensation to the one that I had when I first looked down Grand Canyon and the view will stay with me forever.

Its floor was green now after the rains and in Jim's binoculars I could pick out herds of gazelle, Maasai with their cattle and, bizarrely, a satellite-tracking station near the grey cone of Mt. Longonot. The escarpment descended in a breathtaking series of terraces and its far further wall rose dark purple against the blue sky.

There were (of course) a lot of souvenir stalls and I noted that the hawkers were much more timid than their Indian cousins. They actually took no for an answer. It took about 45 minutes to drive down the escarpment and I enjoyed the grand views. The valley floor was very cultivated and we passed enormous fields of maize and wheat.

We had an unscheduled stop as the truck got a flat tyre. To my mild surprise the Captain managed to change the big tyre in less than 20 minutes and we were on our way again. As we stopped for our picnic lunch smoke started to emit from the engine of the other truck. There was a big hole in the radiator and I was beginning to fear that this was to be an "Indian" tour with frequent and inevitable breakdowns.

The Captain was forced to return to Nairobi and get a new (or another, rather!) truck and we had to sit and wait in the grass of the field. It was hot and sunny but it became rather boring after a while to sit and do nothing. We sat and waited for four hours and we were beginning to suspect that the Captain had taken off with our entire luggage.

But he returned and we could continue our journey. It was only a few hours until dark and we would make camp at Thomson's Falls instead of Maralal, three hours' driving further north. We passed the Equator without any particular ceremonies. As we finally reached Thomson's Falls the sky opened up and there was a tremendous downpour. It kept on and on and in the end we had to erect our tents in the drizzling rain. It got dark almost at once and it kept on raining.

I had a wash and was then glad to make the relevation that the nearby lodge had a bar. The Kenyan beer, Tusker, was very good and also extremely cheap, only 25 pence. The sodas were very cheap too, a Coke costing less than 10 pence. It makes me wonder why I have to pay more than £1 in Sweden! I did not even have to pay for my beers, as there were some friendly Kenyans there who insisted on paying for me.

At 8 p.m. dinner was ready and I was rather surprised that it was quite good. There was chicken with rice and a delicious tropical fruit salad as dessert. I was glad cooks were provided and that I did not have to bother with the washing up the dishes.

Instead I returned to the pub with Daniel and Aline from Belgium. Daniel had worked as a doctor in India for two years and was interesting to talk to. We shared many jokes at the expense of the unwitting Indians. I got quite drunk and it took me quite a while to locate my tent in the pitch darkness.

I slept very well but was brutally awakened at 5.30 by the Captain's incessant honking on the horn. Because of yesterday's engine failure we had to rise early in order to catch up. I was a bit disappointed I never got to see the actual falls because of the darkness but I would get another chance on the Wildlife Bus.

It was extremely cold in the morning and I had to wrap the sleeping bag around me. Shortly after Thomson's Falls the tarmac road ended and we were travelling on a gravel road full of potholes and it was quite bumpy. One advantage was that the Captain had to reduce the speed and there was less speed wind. Instead we had to cope with the enormous dust clouds created by the trucks and meeting vehicles.

We passed through a rather bleak and forlorn region and the vegetation got sparser. There were lots of acacia thorn trees festooned with its ubiquitous weaverbirds' nests. There were very few settlements and the people we saw were mainly the Samburu tribe with their herds of sheep.

The Samburus looked very picturesque, decorated with red ochre and wearing loincloths of a vivid red. They would stand, spear in hand, one leg with the other foot raised behind and with a red feather in their "punk" hairstyle. The women adorned themselves with coil upon coil of heavy bead necklaces.

The Captain advised us against taking photographs of them from the truck, as they were known to throw spears and stones at those who did! They were very friendly though and there were lots of waving when we passed their manyattas (villages). The children were very enthusiastic and would wave to us even if they were 500 yards away. But that we were not the first tourists to pass through was indicated by the fact that some children would wave with their hands and then turn the hands down in a begging position!

We had lunch at Maralal, the Samburu "capital". It had the atmosphere of a frontier town, the two unbelievably dusty streets crowded with tribes-people, the market place loaded with bangles, necklaces and beadwork.

The fact that the Turkana Bus goes their every other week had made an impact on the local life. There were lots of very persistent souvenir sellers and children trying to hustle a few shillings from us. The children told us the sad story, which I would become very familiar with, how their parents were very poor and could not afford to buy them books and pens for their schooling. When they actually received pens from Jim & Cyndy they were rather disappointed and wanted money instead!

I took some pictures of a group of very beautiful Samburu girls (after having duly paid them) and then tried to avoid a particularly stubborn peddler who wanted to sell me a big spear (!), and he would not listen to my argument that it did not fit my backpack!

There were new passengers in Maralal, armed soldiers that evidently were going to escort us to lake Turkana. In recent years the area had sometimes been plagued by shiftas, Somali bandits, and there was an armed escort as a matter of routine. They were very relaxed however, smoking and chatting all the time, and their presence did not make me nervous.

We left Maralal and the road got increasingly rough, hot and dusty. We came upon one of the most spectacular views in Africa: the Losiolo escarpment, overlooking the Rift Valley and its volcanic moonscape. We then passed through scrub desert dissected by luggas (dry river beds) and peppered with acacia thorn trees and ant hills.

There were also extinct and dormant volcanoes, barren, shattered lava beds, canyons through which cool, clear streams flowed, oases of lush vegetation hemmed in by craggy mountains and huge islands of forested mountains surrounded by sand deserts. The contrasts were incredible and for all its forbiddingness, I found the scenery very beautiful.

Now and then we would see some wildlife. Grevy's zebra (with their much denser pattern of stripes and saucerlike ears) were quite common and we saw quite a few of the reticulated giraffe. There were also large herds of domesticated camels. I also saw a lone hyena sitting by the side of the road, looking very mean. I was reading a book, "Journey to the Jade Sea", written in 1963 about a camel trek to lake Turkana. At that time the area had been teeming with elephants, lions and rhino but they were now gone. A sign of the times I'm sure.

We passed an amazing number of missionary establishments. It seemed that just about every denomination was trying to save the "savage" souls. Ever so often we would see new, gleaming, white, big churches that stood out in great contrast to the very poor, rundown mud huts the Samburus dwelled in. I am sure some of the missionaries' activities like digging wells, giving education and so on are laudable but some of these churches gave the impression of extreme waste.

We had a brief stop at the small town of Baragoi, which was very similar to Maralal with the same dusty streets, a few tin-roofed dukas (shops) and many persistent souvenir peddlers. We continued out on the desert plain and after a short while it gave way to ravine and mountain country. The road was now reduced to a dirt track and it was very bumpy as well as very dusty.

We had been driving all day and it was quite tiring to sit on the truck. It was not advisable to sleep though because there was the constant threat of the thorn trees that grew very close to the road. Ever so often one had to duck to avoid the stinging needles of the branches.

At one point we stopped to collect firewood. It was hard work in the hot sun and it was difficult to find any decent wood not being perforated by the termites. Under one stub I found no less than five scorpions, the biggest several inches long.

After going up and down ravines for several hours we arrived to the oasis of South Horr, sandwiched between two high mountains. We could enjoy lush rainforest interspersed with banana and paw-paw plantations.

We followed a dried out riverbed for ten miles and just before sunset, at 6 p.m., we arrived to the campsite at Kurungi. It was a very beautiful location, surrounded by flowering bushes and old trees and with a big mountain as a backdrop. There was lots of fluttering butterflies and the trees were invaded by large troops of monkeys. Of course I could not savour the view for very long, it was pitch dark by 7 o'clock.

We had another enjoyable meal and it was nice to sit around the campfire and be amazed by the starstudded sky with the Southern Cross as its most visible attraction. The monkeys were very tame and tried to steal our food. One managed to tip over my bottle of beer and I'll never forgive him!

We had the usual travellers' conversation, travel plans, backgrounds and general trivia. I talked some with Shelley from Sydney. She was a hairdresser and had taken a year off, like so many Australians, in order to travel the world. She would travel in Africa for five months, all by herself, which I thought was quite courageous. That she was a hairdresser by profession was evident by her beautiful hair, which was beaded Afro style.

I also talked with Laura from Philadelphia. She had travelled from Harare in Zimbabwe where she had taught English writing at the university. She was a writer herself (poetry) and quite interesting to talk to. Although she could have been my daughter (she was 19), she would take on a motherly affection for me. She would always be worrying that I had too much sun, that I did not eat enough, was not dressed warmly enough and so on!

I made friends with Jim & Cyndy from Chicago. They had just left college and would travel for a year before going to university to study law. They were very likeable and lacked the narrow-mindedness that is so common with Americans. They would also join the Wildlife Bus with me the following week.

Tammy, Scott and Troy were more typical representatives of the American breed. Their father was a diplomat in Uganda and it was quite obvious from the beginning that they were used to a very privileged lifestyle. Tammy was actually a GI, stationed in Korea, and it was rather amusing to hear her describe her trials and tribulations as a woman in the army. She was a true believer in the Flag but I found her more naive than annoying.

John and Mary were also interesting to talk to. John was a professional photographer, freelance, and had a very impressive camera equipment. He gave me a lot of helpful hints on wildlife photography but of course a theory is one thing and practice another.

Mary was in charge of the Club Med operations in Asia and I took the opportunity to complain that I had been kicked out of the Club Med at Cherating in Malaysia two years ago!

There was also Joy, who worked for the Voluntary Service Organisation in a village 300 miles north of Kisumu at lake Victoria. Her mission was to boost a women's' co-operative in a village but she could claim very little success, the tribe (Luo) being very patriarchal. She lived in very basic conditions. She had to fetch firewood and water like any other villager and there was a three hours' walk to the nearest road. When she arrived to her house she found a five feet high anthill in her living room! While she had got rid of the nest she could still hear the termites eating up the house during the nights. She would stay in these conditions for two years and I admired her stamina.

I also liked Erick and Ingrid from France and Austria. They had been travelling through West Africa and had a lot of horror stories to tell about the rampant corruption and other difficulties in travelling. Erick was nominally a teacher but rather a professional traveller as he had been travelling for the past four years and had visited no less than 70 countries. Ingrid had worked as a nurse in Saudi Arabia, a horrible experience she said. She had met Erick in Cairo one year ago and they had been travelling together since. I would meet them again six weeks later in Lamu.

Steve & Carolyn from London would also join the Wildlife Bus the following week. They had actually climbed the Kilimanjaro and they gave a lot of helpful information. Among other things they described the cold at the top. They said it was maybe 15 C, which was bad news to me. I knew that it would be cold, but not that bloody cold!

Derek, my tentmate, was also a nice guy, although he complained about my alleged snoring. He was from Northern Ireland (I never asked which Side) and was now living in London. He was only travelling for three weeks in Africa. He had been to Uganda and told me a hilarious story about their currency. He had changed £100 in travellers' cheques and found out that the biggest denomination was 100 Uganda shilling notes worth 10 pence!

So he had actually been given a big sack of money and it had taken him the whole afternoon to count it! While it was very interesting talking to these people, it had been a very long day and we all soon went to our beds and I had no problem sleeping.