24.Lake Turkana, Northern Kenya - 1 January to 9 January 2010

Our plan to travel the more remote route east of Lake Turkana into Ethiopia and then through the Omo Valley was taking shape, with the four families in the convoy making preparations prior to the New Year's Day departure. We hired a mini bus (matatu) to take all ten of us - Bob and Maria; Dickie, Claire and their girls Sonja and Natasha; Liz and Peter; and ourselves - into central Nairobi to the Immigration and Customs Departments. There our vehicle carnets were signed and stamped, though we were told our passports still had to be stamped at a border post when we left Kenya. It was then a matter of fuelling the cars and stocking up at the wonderful Nakumatt Supermarkets in Nairobi with enough food and water to last us at least until we reached Ethiopia and the markets in small towns or villages on the way to Addis Ababa. We envisaged it would take us at least 6 days just to get to the Ethiopian border.

New Year's Eve was celebrated in style, but in moderation. Everyone contributed to a table spread with various dishes, including Sabine and Burkhard from Germany whom we had met at Jungle Junction, and who have been travelling for six years in their self-contained purple 4x4 truck. Midnight local time seemed too long to wait with our early start in the morning, so we decided to celebrate our New Year with Omsk in Russia at 9pm local time, because in actual fact Australia's New Year had already ticked over at 4pm local time, and Germany and the UK - well, out of the question! Peter had downloaded Big Ben chiming at midnight so it all felt quite authentic to be welcoming in the New Year and singing Auld Lang Syne a touch early. Great fun anyway.

After a final goodbye to Jungle Junction, we headed for Roberts Camp on Lake Baringo for our first night on this adventure through northern Kenya. A beautiful Rift Valley freshwater lake, with hippos and plenty of crocs on the water's edge, which actually gave Brian quite an unexpected scare when he wandered down for a photograph of the lake. During the day we had our fifth and last Equator crossing on the African continent, back into the Northern Hemisphere.

A huge downpour during the night meant a late departure the next morning while we waited for tents and everything else to dry out. But once on our way, the scenery was spectacular - 'Cradle of Mankind' Rift Valley landscape, so rugged and remote it felt like we truly were in the heart of Africa. Following the rain, the roads were quite slip-slide and messy but with magnificent views back to the lake. We saw no other overland travellers all day.

Maralal was to be our next stop for the night, but as we whittled down the kilometres, the roads became more treacherously wet and muddy and at about 5.30pm, just 18 km from Maralal, we saw a collection of vehicles ahead. There was a very swollen creek cutting the road, and more vehicles on the other side looking just as stranded as we felt. Dickie started chatting to a policeman on our side of the creek, and all in all it looked like we could have at least a 3 hour wait on our hands until the water had subsided enough to cross the now invisible bridge. He also advised against camping there for the night for security reasons, so we settled down for the wait. A very short time later there was an absolute downpour which lasted about an hour while darkness set in, and we were all huddled in our vehicles fogging up severely. So our 3 hour wait had suddenly at least doubled - it looked like we were in for a long night, so we all made ourselves as comfortable as we could, preparing for the worst - the entire night in the front of the vehicle.

Amazingly, we were both asleep when Dickie knocked on our window at 2.00am. The creek level had dropped substantially and 4x4s had already managed to cross. So quick smart we found our place in the queue and we all safely crossed the now visible bridge, with a wash-out on one side of the approach. The vehicles that had been waiting on the other side had long ago given up the wait and gone back to Maralal.

Continuing on in the now moonlit darkness, the road still very tricky, we tried to keep an eye out for each other which wasn't easy with the chaos of vehicles madly overtaking each other willy-nilly, and only guesswork as to whose headlights we could see.But a short distance behind we suddenly saw the flashing headlights of distress and for the first time on the trip, we had to use our winch. One of our convoy vehicles had collected a huge hole on the side of the road and had ended up with two wheels off the ground - a little un-nerving for those inside. But we pulled them out with surprising ease, and were on our way again. We eventually limped into Camel Camp just outside Maralal at 3;35am - an epic day!! Needless to say there were no plans to continue the journey in a mere few hours time, and after a substantial sleep-in we woke up to find that it wasn't a bad campsite, quite grassy if a little damp, and we spent the next night there as well. Camel Camp is the venue for a yearly October Camel Derby which explained the camels in the yards each night.

Fuel was available in Maralal, so we didn't let the opportunity pass, and on the way out we also called in at the police station to get information on the roads ahead and to check the security situation. Our policeman from the episode at the creek turned out to be the Divisional Commander of the whole region and he was extremely helpful. He would inform the police at Baragoi, our next overnight camp, that we were coming through and he also advised us that although it was renowned bandit country ahead, at this particular time there was no threat or any need for a guide, as the recent rains had eased the 4-year long northern Kenyan drought, as well as the tension between the different cattle grazing tribes of the area. We had actually heard this before we had left Nairobi but it was comforting to have confirmation, and also comforting to be travelling in a convoy.

Another fantastic drive through mountains and up to an elevation of above 2500 metres, Samburu people draped in Masai-looking shukas in this much cooler climate, watching their cattle or goats, with masses of coloured beads around their necks. Then into dry, more arid, salt-bush looking country, though with a green tinge following the rain, and sun-baked, desolate looking villages, with what has become a common sight - children with their hands outstretched asking for sweets or money. Towards the end of the day's drive we were high in the mountains admiringa fantastic view of the floor of the Rift Valley stretched before us. On arrival in Baragoi, the entire population seemed to be watching as our convoy passed through, and converged when we bought fuel at the local depot. The police had known we were coming and we camped in a very small area behind the Baragoi Police Station, not flash - but very secure.

Once again the next day we were given the all-clear on security. More rugged and remote country with Samburu or Turkana herdsmen tending their goats looking like bright dots on the landscape, or standing near the road with the obligatory herding stick over their shoulders and across the back of their necks, watching us drive past. South Horr was an eye opener full of contrasts, with the local people intrigued and intriguing. So many traditionally dressed men and women adorned with colourful beads and headwear, in contrast with the school children in Western-style pink and blue school uniforms who raced to the fence excitedly waving and shouting at us, and finally on the other side of the town, children at times angrily throwing sticks or stones when we didn't stop at their requests for money or sweets. During the day we also drove through one checkpoint with guards sporting AK47s, however they were friendly and let us through after a quick chat. And finally the spectacular first sighting of Lake Turkana in the distance, with volcanic rocks right down to the shore, and occasionally groups of small dome-shaped huts. The El Molo tribe, traditionally fisherman of the lake, are in and around Loyangalani where we camped for the night, with palm trees and green grass in an unexpected oasis-like campsite. We were also told that Loyangalani was the setting for the film 'The Constant Gardener' starring Ralph Fiennes, and that many of the locals were employed as extras. The film crew apparently contributed some of their earnings towards a secondary school in the area, and the film director made a further substantial contribution.

The following day was huge - 12 hours to cover 206 kms. However this did include about an hour's wait at the Sibiloi NP gate while we waited for the ranger to arrive from the park headquarters to take our entrance fee, and we also had to tow one of our convoy vehicles out of soft mud on the road not far from Koobi Fora campsite on Lake Turkana within the national park, where we eventually set up camp in the dark.

During our stay of two nights, we visited the Koobi Fora Museum. The Sibiloi National Park was apparently created to protect hominid fossil finds that have been found since the find of Richard Leakey, son of Mary and Louis Leakey who discovered the 3.2 million year old human footprints at Olduvai Gorge in Tanzania. All very interesting 'Rift Valley Cradle of Mankind' information.

Leaving Koobi-Fora the next day we followed a little used track travelling away from the lake and on to Iloret, where we arrived mid-afternoon and reported our arrival to the police. Once again our campsite for the night was at the back of the police station, with the usual wide-eyed onlookers as we set up camp. And once again, we had a pleasant and secure night, though basic.

Our last day in northern Kenya included a remote border crossing, and it was remote. The true border was revealed only by our GPS's so we stopped for photos to capture the moment - we were into Ethiopia! A little further on we came to a small tin shed, which was apparently the 'border crossing'. The local policeman had to be roused from a nap, and he dutifully looked at each of our passports as we squashed into his 'office', while outside there was a mini riot with all the locals and their children, rather excited at the sight of our four cars outside. Our passports would be stamped into Ethiopia when we reached the town of Omorate on the Omo River, a slight detour on our way to our first camp in Ethiopia at Mango Camp in Turmi.

We were now in the Omo Valley, and it had taken us 9 days, not 6!!