Solo Kayak Journey

One day, a man got in a 1997 Solstice GT to paddle to Knight Inlet. Through persistent rain and mosquitoes, he journeyed from camp to camp, driving his paddle into the sea, hoping that every stroke of his blade would take him closer to inner peace. That first evening, he beheld a mystical sunset where the sky turned golden pink with a rainbow across the sky. The next day he finally reached the entrance of Knight Inlet, his goal being to paddle 35 km into it to look for the mythical grizzly bears that inhabit the great bear rainforest at Glendale Cove. 

When he reached the Martin Islets to set his camp, just south of Tribune Channel, he looked into the vast inlet, with its endless steep walls with nowhere to land, and contemplated the possible hardships ahead: nowhere to land for miles, grizzly bears, nobody to call for help at night even with a radio, possible high winds that could kick up at any moment, at least 2 days each way...as he made his decision, to turn back and paddle west instead. As a mighty humpback whale took a breath which echoed from the steep slopes, he made peace with his decision. The journey ahead would allow his mind to ponder life's big questions. What is the purpose of this life? Does destiny await him, or will he find random harmony in the waves and currents of the sea? 

Pondering his decision to abort the quest and change course, he paddled west, wondering if it made him any less of a man, or if his decision was simply wise. Seeing many salmon leaping from the waters all around him, and wanting to catch one for himself, he cast his lure to troll. Repeatedly, he would hook one, then it would shake off the hook and escape. He had not yet mastered fishing, but perhaps what he really needed to master was letting go. He kept paddling through wind and rain. Passing the ruins of an ancient village, he carried on. He was so locked in that the paddle strokes became an endless rhythm, becoming one with the sea and he lost all sense of time. 

At last he reached a suitable island to make camp for the night: Flower Island. Extensive efforts to catch fish did not pan out. He went to sleep, a lonely man on an island. The next day his persistence was rewarded with 2 salmon, a pink and a coho which he ate and shared with friendly strangers on White Cliff Islet. He left the next day but as he was paddling among some islands, a black triangle appeared on the horizon, heading towards him, then disappeared. A few minutes passed. He sat as still as could be in his boat, in the open water. He looked down. Without a single ripple, a massive black and white form passed under him, swimming on its side with powerful strokes of its wide tail. The full-grown male, swimming at full speed and looking up at him. It surfaced a long way off to join its pod off in the distance. What a mighty breath it must have taken! He took it as a sign from the universe that he should not leave this place just yet. He returned to his camp and stayed 2 more nights - he could not so easily leave this paradise. 

He was no longer in solitude, he met many travelers on this island and exchanged many stories, as well as fish and wine. He had a lot more ground to cover. On the 8th day he finally reached his starting point, Naka Creek, criss crossing the mighty Johnstone Strait and spotting killer whales from great distances and hoping the many extra miles paddled would be validated with another magical close encounter. But such life-affirming moments cannot be conjured through will alone. They must appear when they choose to appear. 

What did the man learn on his journey? In the end, he returned to exactly the same place where his journey had started, but a slightly different man. More tolerant of long moments of solitude. At peace with the rain and the frigid waters, the mosquitos and the the tidal currents that did not always run in his favour. In fact, these hardships were insignificant compared to his greatest adversary, being forced to live in his own head. But he grew more and more comfortable with it. 

The man had a particular desire in his life, that had set up camp in his mind for some time. He thought about it often, pondering the possibilities to the point of foolishness. Then realized that what he wants to happen might not entirely be in his control. It may come to be, or it may not. It could be that all his anticipation could all be for nothing. But then maybe something else amazing could happen that he never even saw coming. Everything will be fine and life will continue and life's journey will never stop providing unexpected moments of glory to him, as long as he has a genuine spirit, an open mind, patience and gratitude. 

Journey to the Lewa Safari Marathon

By September 2024, I had just completed 20,000 push-ups in a year and banked four full hours of Wim Hof breathing, and about 8 hours' worth of cold showers and cold plunges. I guess I still wasn't over the breakup. 

What I was not doing much of was running. 

I returned from Canada after a summer of hikes, more pushups, and lots of kayaking, and noticed that the Nairobi City Half Marathon was happening on September 8th. I hadn’t really been training for it, but I had been keeping decently fit, and I felt like that would be enough for me to wing it. I ran it in about 1:45, which, under the circumstances, felt pretty respectable. In my mind, I was already halfway there in terms of running a full marathon. 

Next on the calendar was the Standard Chartered Marathon on October 27th. I actually planned to run the half marathon, but it was sold out. My only option was to get into the full marathon which required a bit of 'creativity'. 

"What the hell, we'll see how it goes." 

At this point, my 'training' consisted of roughly ten runs, mostly intervals, with the longest being 15 km. A marathon is 42 km, a detail I was technically aware of but work was pretty heavy at the time and well, I didn't have a lot of energy left over for running. I squeezed in a weekend hike with my buddy Alexander what was pretty epic. We went to Mt. Suswa and hiked the 22 km crater rim. Alexander wasn't keen on running so I added an extra challenge: 15 pushups every 15 minutes. Over five hours, I collected 322 pushups. 

The Mt. Suswa Crater Rim is 22km all round

Then October 22nd rolled around, the marathon. My race strategy was: run the first half exactly like the half marathon, then tap into sheer will power for the second half. 

For a while, things went surprisingly well. I stayed ahead of Tom Valentine, a seasoned runner who had been training properly and for much longer than I had. This gave me an intoxicating sense of overconfidence which was short lived. I stayed ahead of him until km 26 at which point he overtook me. Then he just got further, and further, and further away into the distance. 

At km 30, everything seized. Ankles, knees, hips, morale. My forearms were tingling. I was experiencing pain in my body that I had never experienced before. Even my testicles were in pain (why??). The remaining 12 km were a sad blend of walking, jogging, and self-pity. I finished in 4:09, which felt… disappointing.

Later, I learned that Oprah Winfrey’s best marathon time was 4:29.

Was I really only 20 minutes faster than peak Oprah?

For the next 8 months, I would have to go to war against myself and mother nature. 

Firstly, I did what I should have done earlier: I checked the RunBeyond race calendar and signed up in advance for some races—mostly trail runs that looked scenic (and, crucially, didn’t interfere with my birding plans of course). 

I decided to train smarter: regular 10–20 km runs with a focus on building my VO₂ max, and lots of strength and stability work, partly because I’d torn an LCL the year before. I did a ton of yoga at Two Rivers. 

January brought a sudden desire for high altitude training. My friend Alexander and I decided it would be epic to hike Pt. Lenana on Mt. Kenya in a weekend. We left early Saturday Jan. 20th, parked at Moses Camp, hiked to Shipton’s Camp, then woke obscenely early on Sunday, summited by 7 a.m., and descended all the way back to the car in one day. It actually wasn't that bad but the drive home, mostly in the dark, was brutal. 

Shipton's Camp

I tried to make it to Mt. Longonot a couple times a month. The crater loop (13 km, 630 m elevation gain) became a favourite - my personal best clocking in at 1:35 (I believe the record is just under 1:20). Another good one was the Karura Forest perimeter loop, a glorious 25 km figure-eight. I'd stop for sparkling water and a green smoothie at Sigiria Forest Café which I pretended was an 'aid station'. 

One of my crazy Longonot crater runs

On February 1st, I lined up for the 30 km Tigoni Tea Trails run. This time, I was a bit better prepared. The hills were brutal. I finished in 3 hours flat (well I would have if I'd not taken a wrong turn with 1 km left). Tom went the right way. I finished about 200 metres behind him. 

From March to May, I was really kicking the training into high gear. During a solo safari to the Mara Triangle, I ran a savage 15 km midday climb up the Ololoolo Escarpment. It was very hot and very scenic. 

Then came May 25th: the 30 km Lukenya Hills Trail Run. This would be a true test about a month before Lewa. 

I finished in 2:43, smashing my previous PB by 17 minutes and finishing well ahead of Tom. I won’t lie, I was pleased with myself. I hold Tom in high esteem, which made beating him all the more satisfying, but I did not celebrate. I knew very well that 12 extra km's would be no joke. 

The following weekend was the Sigiria Forest Relay, and I skipped an epic birding road trip to Ruma National Park - where Pennant-winged Nightjar and Blue Quail were seen - to race instead. I would have felt terribly bad about letting my team-mates down: 2 fellow teachers and a pupil of mine at BGE. As tantalizing as looking for Stripe-breasted Flufftails with Pete, Angela and Victor was, it would have been a very unclassy move. We had a great time at the relay which was highly competitive and a great vibe. 

Two days later, on June 7th, I did what would be my final serious bout of training before the big marathon. I wanted do do one more thing at altitude so I did a solo Mt. Kinangop day hike: 28 km, 1,263 m elevation gain, muddy bogs, rock scrambling, dawn to dusk. 3 weeks to go. 

Mt. Kinangop is the pointy peak in the background

The Lewa Marathon was set for June 28th. I tapered properly: yoga, easy jogs, nothing over 15 km. There wasn't really anything else I could do by this point. My VO₂ max was, I assume, illegal. 

Tom picked me up from Sagana the day before. Hundreds of runners camped at Lewa Wildlife Conservancy. On race morning, the energy was electric. Runners jogged and walked to the start line through wild grasslands. Helicopters buzzed overhead—filming the race and, presumably, encouraging elephants and lions to make themselves scarce. 

Bang. We were off.

The course was two identical 21 km loops. I finished the first in 1:45—perfect. But on the second loop, it was about to get real. 

At km 22, my blisters exploded. The salty sweat shot a stinging sensation into my feet with each stride. The heat was brutal, the hills unforgiving. Thank God there were water stations every 5 kilometers - those may have saved some lives that day. I did see one chap get carted off in an ambulance during the second loop. There was one beautiful water station with a walk-through 'misting tunnel'. What a feeling! As per a typical Kenyan marathon, there were of course also some motivational "cheerleading stations"  - some beautiful ladies dancing to some music on loudspeakers. I'm not gonna lie, I always put a little extra pep in my step when I pass those! 

By km 35, my body began to lock up. I had to stop and stretch a few times just to loosen up the muscles so I could keep moving. The pain was excruciating, especially in the ankles, knees and hips.  I made a deal with myself: if I finish this bastard in under 4 hours, I have permission to retire from all marathons forever. If I don't do under 4, I will have to do another one. 

A Belgian runner, Mathieu Destrooper, encouraged me from km 25 to 35 before pulling ahead. Another fellow by the name of Zachary Adams encouraged me for the last 1 km. I latched onto him like he was some sort of guardian angel sent to drag me across the finish line. I steadfastly refused to walk another meter and finish this bad boy with my head held high! 

Sweet Jesus, there it is...the finish line.

I crossed it. Looked at my watch.

3:53.

I collapsed to my hands and knees and wept—partly from the extreme physical pain, partly from everything else I’d been holding together for the past couple of years. Life had kicked my arse, but in that moment, I came out on top. 

Then I was carted off to the medical tent on a stretcher.

They removed my shoes. The arches of my feet looked like Canadian bacon. A slab of skin was cut off each foot with scissors and antiseptic applied. The sharp stinging sensation from the alcohol confirmed that I was still alive. Few, that's a relief. A doctor came over and checked me with his stethoscope. “You pushed your heart too hard.”

Epilogue: 8 days later, I ran the Nairobi City Half Marathon in a time of 1:33, a personal best by 17 minutes. Since then, I've taken a break from long distance running. It is December as I type this and I feel like my body is still sore! Would I do another Lewa Marathon? Well, I just got a job offer to move back to Kenya and I'm seriously considering it for June 2027. 

1:33  - not bad!

A solo trip to the Mara

During the April holiday, I decide to cancel my trip to Tanzania and head to Mara Triangle instead. I'd always wanted to do a solo safari where I can fully immerse myself in the wild and pay full attention to the wildlife. My patience paid off when I got to witness what few safari-goers do: a cheetah kill. In fact, a team of 3 cheetah's took down 2 baby zebras at the same time. I only managed to snap one of the kills because the other was happening off to the side and I didn't actually see it. Watching a Serval hunt without lots of safari vehicle scaring it away was also really cool. April is a great time to come with lots of rain and few cars, but on the last day I received a phone call from the park staff that the Purungat Bridge was a no-go, which forced me to drive out of Ololoolo gate. Then I was given permission to transit the Masai Mara Reserve (normally not allowed or private drives). I got to cross the famous Double Crossing at the Talek River, which pushe my X-trail to its final test. With the help of some passing workers, we built a ramp using rocks to get onto the concrete bridge/weir thingy, which had about a foot of water running over it. This was super sketchy but I somehow got out! I didn't see too much in the Mara otherwise. I got home very late but it was quite the adventure! 

Tabora Cisticola!

Coqui Francolin

Serval

Rosy-throated Longclaw

Familiar Chat @ Mara West Camp

Temminck's Courser