The picture of my first view of lake Bogoria that prompted this post.

Recently, Pinkshade, a most appreciated reader, critic and contributor to this blog made comments to a poor vintage picture of lake Bogoria I shared on Facebook. This is what she wrote:

“(A) poor picture but it brings back those happy hours at Bogoria, the smell of the “maji moto” (hot water) and of the flamingoes, the noises of the water and the birds too. The souvenir of being badly stuck against a big rock with the car and going back on foot to try to find some help… that we didn’t find… and we ended up “undigging” the wheel by ourselves, sweating profusely! And the small spring, clear and refreshing, that we used to visit at mid-day for a bath, the parrots in the trees and all the fantastic atmosphere from that beautiful place… Lovely (wink emoticon).

So, confronted with that I am obliged to tell you our experiences at lake Bogoria that, to me, is the jewel of the Kenya Rift valley. I admit that my opinion may be biased as it was the first place I camped in, well really out, but more of that later. Lake Bogoria is not that far from Nairobi but it was somehow away from the normal tourist circuit that preferred Amboseli, Lake Nakuru, Lake Baringo and the Maasai Mara.

It was early days in Kenya for me and I was still alone living at Muguga House when Richard and Philip invited me to join them on a one-night visit to Lake Bogoria National Reserve. Because they used to work late, our Saturday departure got delayed and we did not make it to the park in time. We were then forced to “camp” near the entrance, under the flying pathway of the lesser flamingo flocks that seemed to be entering the lake in large numbers!

We only had one tent for two so Richard and Philip used it while I had the option of the front of the car (the back was full of our stuff) or sleeping “al fresco”. As I had a camp bed and a borrowed sleeping bag I chose the latter. The evening temperature was perfect, no mosquitoes (or mosquito net) so I was happy to sleep under the stars. The three of us were tired so, after a simple stew and rice we retired to bed early.

Murphy’s Law is always present, even in lake Bogoria so, about five minutes after closing my eyes the rain started. I resisted for a while but, when it became a true downpour, I rushed to the only shelter I had: the car as, at least it was dry. There were two seats that could not be reclined as the back was full so it was a question of sitting it out! It was a long night that I shared with the hand-brake that somehow kept getting between me and my dreams!

Despite the uncomfortable start, the first view of the lake stained pink with flamingoes and framed by emerald green hills will be forever imprinted in my mind. The sky was clear and thousands of flamingoes were flying all over the place on errands that only they knew the reason. The birds were mostly lesser flamingoes (Phoeniconaias minor); deep pink masses feeding on the blue-green algae (Spirulina platensis) that they filtered with their hollow beaks, their tongues acting like true vacuum pistons! The young, beige-white, were all together in the distance while the greater flamingoes (Phoenicopterus roseus) placed themselves in areas of the lake where fresher water was present so that they could find their invertebrate prey. The latter were, as usual, much fewer in numbers.

Frankly, I do not recall the rest of that safari but it really left an impression on me and I decided to get back there.

The opportunity to return presented itself about one year after, when my wife was with me and my work had been decided, agreed and initiated and I could afford to spend a Saturday night away from the laboratory. This time we decided to camp at the Fig Tree campsite as it offer the solid shade of these fantastic trees and a stream that, coming from the hills above the camp, meandered through and offered the needed water close by. THe water from the lake is alkaline and sulphurous and it is not drinkable.

Another view of the lake.

Notwithstanding its huge flamingo population, lake Bogoria was not a popular destination so, most of the time, we were on our own and this time was no exception. We chose a good spot and organized our camp that at that time was rather basic: a tent! It was only with time that we managed to learn the science of camping and started to purchase a few more essential items, mostly second hand and from friends leaving the country. So later on we added canvas chairs, table, jerry cans and other important elements that make camping a pleasurable activity. But, more of that later as this time, it was the tent, the VW Kombi and us!

We spent most of the remaining daytime watching the “flamingo show” and driving to the various sections of the lake. The smoke on the opposite shore turned out to be volcanic hot springs that gushed from cracks in the black rocks, feeding the lake with new foetid and almost boiling water. We explored them with great care as the few animal remains we saw in the various hot pools warned us of our fate in case of an accidental fall inside these true boiling cauldrons!

Part of the hots springs as seen from the circular road.

Dusk in Kenya does not linger on as in other latitudes so, as soon as light started fading, we called it a day and drove back to camp to settle down for the night. We found a welcoming committee composed of a large troop of baboons, maybe one hundred of them spread out around our chosen area that, clearly, was also theirs! As usual, when we arrived they moved off and stayed at a prudent distance but watching us, waiting for the opportunity to snatch our food. As darkness fell, they started to climb the trees to roost while we were warming up our dinner. They were very noisy as squabbles were frequent that normally ended up with youngsters been disciplined for not respecting the established pecking order!

Eventually, calm settled among our cousins and we decided that it was also time to retire. Soon we noticed that one thing is to sleep under the stars and another one to do it “under the baboons” as unfortunately they had placed themselves just above us. I will try to be restrained while I describe the situation we faced. What we first thought were falling twigs rapidly became dung and urine! Luckily not all of them fell on our canvas but there was enough to be bothersome and very smelly. The idea of moving the tent was considered and abandoned so we decided to put up with the situation as they would soon go to sleep, we hoped. They did and so did we!

Peace did not last long though. At about midnight, a generalized racket developed and there were baboons screaming and running all over the place in total panic. Something had really scared them although we will never know what. At the time we thought of a leopard attack but maybe one of them just fell off a branch! The result was good for us as, in their panic they moved away from “our” tree and decided to settle further on. We went back to sleep as the rain started and fortunately it soon washed off most of what the baboons left behind and the air became pure again!

We returned several times to lake Bogoria and we were careful in the choice of our campsite after that event. When we visited with Nazar and Aurora (our friends from “Unpredicted friends and unforgettable dates”) we chose to camp by the hot springs that, although smelly, offered good shade and a special feature: a dishwashing machine! Of course the latter was not what you may think today but it had a much simpler way of working as you would immerse your dirty crockery in one of the small hot pools and pick it up sparklingly clean a few minutes later! That was a trick that never failed to impress visitors!

Immature flamingoes.

Camping at the hot springs with our Uruguayan friends.

Dish-washing made easy and the baboons’ absence at night convinced us to sacrifice beauty for peace. In addition, the fig tree camp suffered another severe blow when a good friend, while trekking up the hill from the camp, discovered that what was reputed as a cristal clear spring running through it was in fact used by the villagers up in the hills!

The littoral of the Paraná and Uruguay rivers, forming the River Plate, has been the target of bad weather of late. We have had no sunshine for about ten days and we have suffered a tornado in the city of Dolores, located in the Soriano department -Uruguay- 100 km North of Carmelo. We had had very heavy rains in the region that, luckily, a couple of days ago have stopped and now we have sunny and cold weather.

Rains have caused havoc among people living in low areas that needed to be evacuated to refuges in order to survive while their houses were flooded and their personal effects damaged. Apart from affecting the population, the rains have damaged crops (estimates in Argentina are of about several million hectares!).

There has also been severe damage to roads and bridges that has resulted in the (relative) isolation of our town of Carmelo (Uruguay) for a couple of days. Luckily today the main roads are all passable again. Well, not all of them. The Víboras[1] stream cut the No. 21 route that connects Carmelo to the North of Uruguay via Nueva Palmira at a spot located 10 km from Carmelo.

A bridge dating from 1858 known as the “Camacho” bridge or the “Castells” bridge spans the Víboras stream. Jaime Castells made use of the watercourse to build a hydraulic mill to grind grain and he got permission to build the bridge on condition that it financed itself. This was the reason for it to become the first toll station of Uruguay. The bridge with its five stone arches is a pioneer of this building style in the country and it was declared a National Historical Monument in 1975.

The Castells bridge photographed in the 90s.

A view of the lovely setting near the Castells bridge in the 90s.

The news that the Víboras stream had cut the road spread like wildfire and rumours about what had taken place abounded. It was time to investigate. Driving there it was clear that the road had suffered the impact of the rain as the number of potholes had dramatically augmented!

The temporary Stop signs prior to the arrival to the bridge made us fear the worse and we were not wrong. The stream had dug a large trench on the road and taken down a few rather large trees! However, the bridge was intact, at least to the naked eye as the cut had taken place before the bridge!

The stream cut the road before the bridge that can be seen towards the back in the centre of the picture.

The bridge appears still intact!

Other roads were also damaged in Carmelo, including the very popular road to the beach where a trench was dug by the Municipality to drain a flooded suburb. We could appreciate the damage during one of our morning walks today, the second day of sunshine.

Apart from the road damage there was also a lot of standing water that will take a while to drain away as the rivers are still carrying a lot of water. It was while watching one of these new “lakes” that we noted some small brown floating bodies that we took for flotsam.

The “flotsam” sen from far.

A better look indicated that there was some “vibrating” movement in the flotsam! It was alive and in fact these masses were made of several thousand ants.

Another group.

The largest ant raft.

A larger group of ants anchored to a stem of grass. This is also shown in the video to appreciate their movement.

Floating ants.

Although we had not seen this phenomenon earlier, a quick look in the Internet indicated that it is a common event, well documented for the fire ants Solenopsis invicta in North America. I learnt that the ants link their bodies together to build these true waterproof bodies that are able to repel water through some miracle of physics and that can float for days without trouble, until the water recedes and they can reconstruct their lives!

The ants’ movement would suggest that this behaviour is a cooperative effort and that ants rotate from the more risky (wet?) periphery to the better guarded interior of the mass. I imagine that in this “wet socialism” lazy members of the society would be cast away?

[1] The name of the stream means “Snakes” in English.

While staying in Muguga House, transport was a problem as, to get to Nairobi it meant a 10km ride to access the main road and then find public transportation to and from the capital city. That meant that the shortest of the trips would involve a full day! The situation improved later when I got the VW Kombi. This allowed us also to move out of the temporary Muguga House’s bungalow to a proper house in Tigoni.

In the meantime, we explored the Muguga surroundings on foot following the many tracks used by the local inhabitants in their daily errands. The soil was red, seriously red, and slippery and the paths narrow and sinuous! Falls were funny affairs until we realized that to wash the red stains from our clothes demanded quite an effort so, after the first experience we strode with great care! It was good exercise and it gave us a chance to come into contact with the local people, particularly the women and children.

Among the colleagues sharing Muguga House was Ranjini, a British expert on plant viruses, particularly maize streak, who was also starting her career with the Overseas Development Administration[2] on the plant health section of the Kenya Agriculture Research Institute. Although she was reserved at first, my wife and I became friends with her (up to today!). She had a sharp sense of humour that, according to her, she inherited from her Sri Lankan father. She had very long dark hair worn loose.

Ranjini and other British colleagues of hers were used to walking and they did it frequently. Walking was not an activity that was performed in Uruguay so we were rather unfit and the few ocassions we tried it was a bit of an embarrassment as we lagged behind! Of course we attributed this to the Muguga altitude knowing very well that we were unfit! The situation improved after a while and we could join the ramblers more comfortably although we could not match them. We frequently walked with Ranjini, who had a slower pace and with whom we shared more interests.

The day in question was a Sunday and we left a bit late. We took the path towards a patch of indigenous forest as there were always interesting birds to be seen there. Mabel and Ranjini were walking in the front and I followed. As usual we met a few people who greeted us with the well known “jambo“[3] or its Kikuyu equivalent. A few women were on their daily errands which included carrying a 20lt jerry can of water on their heads, and a bunch of firewood on their backs all while knitting some pullover for their children. I never stopped admiring them! Oh yes, and walking more steadily and faster than me. Others were going to catch a “matatu“[4] to go to town or visit relatives while quite a number were dressed for mass.

We were traversing a bit of open ground and a little boy of about 4 years dressed in his best Sunday clothes never saw us coming, busy looking where he was stepping, probably following his mother’s directions to keep his shoes clean! Two of his sisters, his mother and another lady (his auntie?) accompanied him, also dressed up. The boy was at the front of the group.

The moment the boy heard people coming towards him, he looked up. Until that instant he wore a happy face and we had seen it. It took only a split second for his expression to change into a look of terror, followed by a loud scream. He immediately started crying. Unfortunately for him he had just seen three white aliens without warning! I am sure that what was particularly terrifying for him was to face two of them with very long hair advancing on him. His instinctive response, after the initial shock, was to turn and run for the safety of his mother. It would have worked if only he would not have slipped and fallen.

My wife (left) and Ranjini on a walk.

Ranjini showing how it is done!

Although his mother moved towards him, the witches were closer and got to him first with the intention of helping. Somehow, this was not the little boy’s perception of the situation and, finding himself “alien handled” he cried even louder in a fit of deeper terror! While his immediate relatives started to chuckle at the scene unfolding, eventually, with the help provided by the witches, he regained the needed mobility and rushed to his mother, burying himself in her skirts and almost disappearing from sight!

Our concern for the boy’s welfare turned into amusement the moment we saw his family laughing whole-heartedly at the incident. I am sure that somehow the encounter remained with the youngster for sometime!

[1] See also: https://bushsnobinafrica.wordpress.com/2015/03/10/kenya-muguga1/ and https://bushsnobinafrica.wordpress.com/2015/06/30/life-and-work-in-kenya-muguga1/

[2] Now known as The Department for International Development (DFID).

[3] Swahili for “Hello”.

[4] Swahili for a minibus used for public transportation.

Important issues such as passport renewal and visits to our family doctor compelled us to leave Salta for our small town of Carmelo in the shores of the river Plate. The night before our departure my wife and I were busy with the packing and other arrangements to leave our farm in good order for our return towards the end of April.

At some stage we were both outside engaged on different tasks when I heard my wife saying, “was that you rattling?” “As far as I know, I still move about freely and free from rattles” was my curt reply, slightly upset by her sarcasm. And then I also heard the noise, an “shhhhh, shhhhh” coming from the garden. “You are right, there is some rattling but is not me” I said to her and added, “I think it is moving this way…” Before I could finish my sentence, my wife interrupted me saying in a voice she reserves only for some creepy-crawlies (snakes, mice, and sometimes myself!) “a snake is coming there”. She pointed towards the general area and that was the last I saw of her for a while, disappearing behind the verandah’s door into the house at a speed.

The snake was in the dark and I could not see it well but I suspected it to be a rattlesnake (Crotalus durissus terrificus) judging by the noise it made. I knew these snakes were present in the area although they are not commonly seen.

I managed to switch the outside light on without losing sight of the visitor that was heading for our house. I was immediately reminded by an invisible wife to keep the back door closed. So it was the snake and I!

Now, what do you do when one of the dangerous creatures from Nature comes for a visit? Ninety-nine per cent of the people around the area will immediately kill it as, reasonably, they regard this as a threat to themselves, children and pets. I could have done this and save myself lots of trouble but I did not!

I watched the snake moving gently towards me and veering off at about a metre from me to seek shelter under one of our large plant vases. I waited and it did not come out so I guessed that I would have sufficient time to run into the house, get a hook from the fire place and come back to check on it. I did and it was still there so I decided that I could now search for our “chameleon box” that was somewhere in the house. Luckily I found it quite fast so I was ready for the capture.

The bushsnob with the fire hook.

Hooking the snake and dropping it into the chameleon box.

The rather large pot was moved to get a chance to hook it but, as expected, the snake moved off but I managed to hook it and lift it inside the box, rather skillfully I thought, pleased with myself. The box was perfect as it is very well built, with a glass front and a metal grid on top. The snake was secure and safe. I won the first round.

After a detailed conversation over dinner I managed to convince my wife that the best course of action was to release the snake far from our farm and, after lot of discussion, a distance of about 4 km was considered safe, as it would be difficult that the snake would return! My victory had a pyrrhic side to it, as now I needed to move the snake from its present location to a suitable container so that I could carry it away.

I considered the various options and settled for a cardboard box with high walls as to avoid it from climbing out before I closed it safely. I like snakes in general but I respect poisonous ones very much so I like to play safe and keep a good distance to avoid surprises!

Luckily the following morning the snake was probably cold and scared so it allowed itself to be lifted from the cage into the box rather easily and I even had time for a picture taken by my wife. (Between you and me, it was trickier to persuade my wife to take the picture than to handle the snake into the box!).

Safely inside the box. Luckily the snake was more scared than I.

Coiled and rattling.

We then loaded the snake at the back of our pick-up and departed for Uruguay stopping after 4 km to let it go. I opened the box, readied the camera and expected an elegant exit to take a few pictures to illustrate this for this post. As the snake did not leave the box after a couple of minutes, I tilted it and the snake finally slid off, still coiled up. However, before I could even think on a picture, it took off at a speed, luckily away from us and into the bush. I had no time to take a shot but, amazingly, my wife did, I am not sure how!

Releasing the snake 4 km away.

The snake would not come out.

After tilting the box, the snake, still coiled, slid off.

The snake took off at a speed towards the bush.

After watching the snake getting into some cracks in the rocks and out of sight, we rattled off.