Hell's Gate

“Everything the light touches is our kingdom.” Mufasa’s words echo through my head as we see Pride Rock for the first time. We had lazily woken up that morning after a vicious night at The Carnivore, with Ken (the crazy-ass backpacker owner) urging us to accompany him to Hell’s Gate National Park. So after some quick budgeting, we were in. Plus, Hell’s Gate is the place where Disney sketched all the plans for The Lion King. Not going there would be sacrilege.

So that evening we set off, arriving at the campsite in the dark. On the way we were attacked by thorn trees – Martin the driver had left the handbrake off on a slope. And we thought that would be the last of the troubles…

After many beers that evening some of us decided to sleep outside, under the African stars. To let the truth be known I was really hoping to see Mufasa’s face in the clouds. Sadly though, the clouds did not appear. What did present itself was a cold wind much akin to that found on the top of Everest. This was okay for the others, as they had Everest-quality sleeping bags. I did not however. Mine is 10 years old and full of holes. I was determined however, and put my daypack in the sleeping bag with me. I don’t why at 4 in the morning I thought this would help. It didn’t.

The next morning was Easter and some smart people had brought chocolate. They were lank popular. Ken decided we should hunt for our candy, so he opened the packet of chocolate éclairs and through them into the veld. He was lank unpopular.

We had breakfast and headed off to search for the gorge in which Mufasa’s life was so cruelly ended. And we found it! It was killer. Sorry, bad adjective.

After leaving the gorge area, an incident occurred. Apparently the roads in Hell’s Gate are not exactly wide enough for an overland truck and a Toyota Corolla to pass each other safely. And as you can imagine, an overland truck will come off slightly better from said situation. We weren’t stressed though because the damage to the Corolla wasn’t that tragic, and surely a quick swap of details would leave us on our way? No. Not at all. For what we didn’t know was that in Kenya, the insurance companies will not pay if you admit liability. So, our driver claimed innocence, and so did the Corolla driver.

Needless to say, an argument broke out which eventually ended in Ken and a troop of overlanders – including Matt, some Canadians, some Americans, a German and three Brits we had so kindly offered a lift to (which by now they were seriously regretting) – heading to the ranger’s station to put down their quotes as witnesses of the accident. Pd, myself, a Dane, a Canadian and an Aussie stayed behind to kindly look after the bags. It then started raining, which sucked for those giving their testimonies, but was quick nice as the 5 of us on the overlander were dry and warm under blankets.

The dispute was eventually solved 6 hours later, with the sun beginning to set. That period had involved a lot of shouting, men with AK-47s, phone calls to people in high places and a wicked game of hackey sack. At the end of it though we were treated to the most spectacular of sights. Pride rock in the foreground. A beam of sunshine through the clouds in the background. All that was missing was Elton John, some giraffes bowing their heads, and a monkey holding a lion. (Picture of this to follow.)

“Hakuna matata, it means no worries.” – Timone

And to all of the wicked people on the trip, a big thank you. See y'all in Montreal.