Early signs appeared that challenges other than 100 miles would mar the Great Walk that we had so looked forward to. If you’ve been reading this blog, you’ll know that we prepared thoroughly by doing death marches starting in D.C. when we signed up for this insanity. Robin also took the warnings about how physically challenging it would be seriously, however, not everyone did.

During our “briefing” the night before our trip, we saw that there was one woman who was significantly overweight. OK, I thought, maybe she’s still in great shape (think 5′ 8″ 250+lbs). She was among a group of five friends whom we dubbed the West Texas Mafia (because they went everywhere as a mob?). It was hot in Nairobi, but I thought maybe the weather in Tsavo would be different.

The 10-seat plane was a charter, so it was just us and the pilots. That was when I heard the overweight woman ask Alex, our guide, “Do you think I can do this?” Uh oh. Turns out that she also had two knee replacements and had sprained her ankle a day earlier. This was not good news. Alex, instead of using the excuse of her ankle to ask her to bow out, said, “Let’s see how it goes.” Big mistake No. 1.

Before I discuss Day 1, I want to be clear that there were factors beyond anyone’s control that would have made the walk difficult no matter what else happened: Mainly, it was 10 degrees hotter and much more humid than is typical plus the rain had begun a month before rainy season. It didn’t rain while we were walking (it did at night), but the river was much higher than normal, making most of the crossing too dangerous.

We made it to Tsavo West, where the landscape was bushy and overgrown (from the early rains). Alex, in what would become obvious was his MO, gave us the bare minimum of information about how the camp worked. I can’t praise Tropical Ice and the men who work in the camp enough — the food (at least what I was able to eat), the service, the caring of all those people who make these walks possible was amazing. You can’t image how efficiently they set up and took down the tents, how they cooked gourmet and plentiful meals over a campfire, or how they adjusted to our needs. They even did our laundry, well, all except for “women’s smalls,” since culturally men can’t touch women’s smalls. The men, all Samburu, know the land and their jobs. They are away from family working on these walks for long stretches, but I suspect these jobs are coveted. Alex said that some of the men have brought their sons onto the crew.

In addition to weather woes, we had a difficult group. The five (soon to be four) Texans made up one faction. Steven, Robin and I would have gotten along with everyone even if they were never to be our best friends, but found ourselves a bit stuck in the middle right from the start between the Texans and … two women traveling together, one of whom could be quite prickly (and right off the bat made a negative comment about Texas that they all took to heart) the other of whom, how shall we say, had some issues she was working through and the difficulty of the trip exacerbated those problems.

The landscape was peaceful and beautiful and I can’t complain about sitting by the river and relaxing. Our tents were as comfortable as you could expect tents to be in 90-degree heat with 70 percent humidity. The “bathroom” was not in the tent, but because guards watched the perimeter of camp, we could get up during the night if need be. Rise and shine was early, as we were to start walking at 7:15, but we were all eager to get moving. The pre-trip information indicated that we would back in camp around noon each day, to avoid the hottest part of the day.

Here’s what I wrote after the first morning’s walk: “Today was rough!” (Temperatures were in the high 90s low 100s, with 70-80% humidity – was to put it mildly – a tad warm) No joke. I don’t know if it was the anti-malaria medicine, dehydration, the heat, or whether I was already starting to get sick, but I was dizzy and unsteady toward the end of what turned out to be at least an 8-mile, 6-hour slog. Eight miles wasn’t enough and Alex wanted us to go back out so we could get in the rest of the mileage (gotta walk 100 miles!), but I was too wiped out and my shins were cramping. Based on the morning’s monotonous walk, it didn’t seem worth it. We had been warned not to bother bringing our cameras because there wasn’t much to see the first few days, and that was correct. Alex tried to convince Steven to go on the afternoon walk without me, but that wasn’t happening. (I couldn’t imagine leaving Sue who wasn’t feeling well just to tramp another 3 miles down the river, only to be picked up in a truck and driven back.)

Because the river was high, we walked in Tsavo West. Because their were hippos in the water, we had to scramble across the side of a rocky cliff rather than cross at the usual point. Because of the way the river bends, we walked longer. Because the woman with the injured ankle was hurting, we walked slower. Because we were waiting for a truck to pick her up, we walked and stood on the road in the heat. Because it had rained we were tramping through high vegetation. Because it was so hot, we were running low on water. We did cross the river, which was sorely welcome for me. I thought the water was going to sizzle as I put my feet in.

Day 2! Rarin’ to go again and hoping it would be better than day 1. This is what I wrote: “Today we wondered whether this is all worth it. Eleven miles, 6 hours. This last hour was HARD and there’s not much to see.” I felt better during the walk, but Robin was sick. Alex’s answer after Robin threw up all her water was, “She’ll be fine.” Then he told her she had to keep going, which she did, although one of the men took her backpack for her.

We finally made it back to camp having run out of water (I carried 3 liters and had finished it after 5 hours. One of the challenges was that we did not have any information as to how much further we would be hiking, so it was hard manage our water usage) and with the Texans trailing (they had not taken the warnings of physical difficulty seriously – in fact one of the women said, “I can’t walk on hills” WHAT??) only to find that camp was not ready for us. Why? Because Simon, the amazing driver and spotter of game, had to take our first dropout to the train station so she could get on a plane home and the truck overturned because the road was muddy setting everything back by hours. Lunch was at about 3 p.m. We were all exhausted and there was much grumbling about taking Day 3 off.

Unfortunately, I was the one who had to take the day off. You know you’re in trouble when the food is going out almost as fast as it goes in. I was wiped out and spent most of the day sleeping and hoping it would go away and I could hit the road on Day 4. Steven and I did get to do a morning game drive (some results above) with Simon, which was the highlight of the walk so far, especially when I woke up at 12:30 p.m. and the crew wasn’t back yet. They didn’t return until 1:40 and they did not look happy. That was the day that broke three of the four remaining Texas mafiosos.

On Day 4, only the two Texas women walked, but because it was just the two of them, they made it in four hours. I also think that Alex was getting the message that none of us cared if we went the full 100 miles. The guys were exhausted, Robin’s gut was upset and of the odd couple of women, one had blisters and the other was just sick and tired. I spent another day sweating and sleeping in a 100-degree tent and trying to force down a few forkfuls of rice. Not fun.

We also decided that I needed to rest in a comfortable place with indoor plumbing instead of in a broiling tent. The morning of Day 5, the three Texans, Steven and I left the walk. I was still hoping to return, but I think Steven, while not happy I was sick, was happy for the excuse not to keep marching.

In our next Kenya blog, we’ll reveal the details of what happened next.