Matt was very impressed with the hippos. I think that they had been warned about how dangerous they could be, but apparently they were fairly quiet on Matt’s visit. However, Franco, their guide, wouldn’t let them get to close – just in case …

Day 3 – July 18th

  “We are starting to settle in to normality. Up at seven, porridge with honey for breakfast. Unfortunately a single bee landed on a small drop of honey that had fallen on the table and waded around. Even more unfortunately, it left and came back with an army. As the bees swarmed round the table, the group scattered to the four corners of the map. Gavan sprinted into the distance shouting, “I don’t believe in bees! I don’t believe in bees!” Eventually we took back the table and washed up. A quick shower followed and then we set to work sorting out our tasks for the day so we could have as much free time as possible. In my case, Callum and I sorted out the accounts and then Christian and I confirmed and booked the accommodation for the rest of the week. A few of us then went down to the lakeside on a whim to try and hire a boat for an hour. After twenty minutes of haggling, we ended up with an offer significantly less than they wanted; complete success! So we gathered the team together and headed out onto the lake for a mini safari in search of hippos steered by a local called Franco.

Sure enough, we came upon a large group of hippos and stopped less than ten metres away from them.

Chris and I were trying to settle an argument on the severity of hippos breath, and on asking Franco he replied, “We not smelling hippos. You want to smell hippo, you swim,” and grinned. We then went further out and after buying some fish from local fishermen from their net,

Franco whistled really loudly and then threw one of the fish into the lake. Within seconds a large black silhouette detached from the top of a tall tree and swooped down with utter precision to catch the fish at high speed; an amazing sight. It turned out that the pattern that Franco was whistling was the tune that the Kenyan fishing eagle sings when it is hungry.

After we fed the eagles, we went back past the hippos and I got a closer look at the pelicans near the shore. The rest of the day was chilled out; gathering firewood and playing football. Christian ripped a tree apart with his bare hands.

After dinner, we sat round the fire exchanging stories, before climbing into our tents for bed, where I am now.

We have two more nights by Lake Naivasha. Tomorrow we go to Hell’s Gate.”