A Wild Ride Through Ngong Forest

Agatha Verdadero 

It’s not every day that I get to do battle with mud, but that’s exactly what happened to me one fine Sunday morning (9th May 2010), when I participated in Wildflower’s Porini-X Ngong Forest adventure. It was a charitable event to raise funds for the Ngong Forest Sanctuary. It was also a chance to inaugurate new bike and run trails through the woods.

The crowd that came to join the event was an interesting mix of Kenyans, expats, adults, adolescents, kids, men, and women. Shortly after the start of registration at around 7 AM, the parking lot, where it was all happening, had already filled with cars and people in festive mood. Scanning the entire scene, I observed some people doing stretches in one corner; in another, guys congregating around their bikes for last-minute adjusting of gears.

By the time 8.30 AM came, kids and adults alike were restlessly waiting for the flag-off. When the flag finally came down, wound-up bodies swiftly thrust themselves onto the trail.

Every participant had a chance to choose their event. Many parents and their kids opted for the family run/cycle of 5 km. The lithe-bodied went on to do either 5- or 10-km runs. Almost everyone who came with a bike had ticked “30 km” on their registration forms. The two other options (10 km and 20 km) were hardly noticed. I personally had decided on the 30-km cycling route.

Then all of us had a rather rude awakening. 

Barely 500 m into the course, we were confronted by a stretch of road with calf-high mounds of mud. The braves ones didn’t flinch, didn’t pause. They went on, on foot and on wheels, to take on the slippery and mucky ground. When I reached the area myself, my eyes widened in shock and I made quick calculations in my mind as to the time it would take me to finish the course in these conditions. My aspiration of doing 1:30 quickly dissipated. The degree of difficulty worsened for me, when I tumbled over a hole hidden by tall grasses. I literally took close to five minutes just to catch my breathe from the battering of my right knee. (I have a history of knee problems from years of sports.) From that point on, every push on the pedal seared a point just behind my eyeballs.

Still, it was the greatest fun to traverse the trail. As mud stained clothes and clogged up wheels, we participants met up along the route with smiles and chuckles to greet each other. It warmed my heart no end to watch kids on their trikes, guided lovingly by their parents to avoid roots and low-lying branches and to slide down safely down some places. Guys who manned the water stations had nothing but encouraging words to greet us.

By the time I finished my 20-km cycle (only two guys actually did 30 km; everybody else surrendered at 10 km and only three to five people [?] did my route) in last place, the parking lot was already empty save for the organisers, volunteers, and Sanctuary staff. I still received a warm cheer from them, when I finally emerged from the trail. To my surprise, I received a certificate of participation for my effort. But even without it, I had a truly grand time. The only thought that stayed with me, as I left the place was “When is the next H & A Sports event?”