KARURA FOREST
My first thought, as I stir awake, is that today will be a
sunny day. The bright halo made by the still closed curtain tells it all.
I quietly
say a quick gratitude prayer and start contemplating how to make the best of
it.
I consider this for a while. It’s Sunday. And I have a
morning date with Karura Forest.
I haven’t cycled there for a long time now. It’s been a couple of
weeks. And I’m missing it. Craving, actually.
But then there is Chiki. We haven’t had a walk together for
a long time either. More than a month now, I guess.
I know she will relish us spending some time together. And
I know I won’t be able to walk her for another few weeks.
What to do? Me or Chiki?
I weigh this for a little while and decide to be selfish. I
know that sounds cruel. But I decide it’s ‘me’
today.
I hop out of bed and hurriedly prepare. Shorts. Vest. Cap. Shoes.
Nothing fancy. And off I go. I need to finish this before it gets too hot and
too crowded.
I arrive at the Kiambu gate at 6.45am. A ranger approaches me at
the barrier with a smile and a POS in hand.
‘Good morning, sir? Entry is 100/- please.’
I look at the cage holding the bikes and notice it is still
locked.
‘How much are the bikes?’ I ask.
‘500/- for 2 hours.’
‘I thought it was 200/- last time?’
‘Sorry…I don’t think they have ever been that. At least not
since I’ve been here.’
‘I need one’, I tell her.
‘They are not open yet.’
‘I thought it’s you doing that.’
‘No. There’re others handling that. I can’t manage that and
the gate at the same time. It gets pretty busy here at times.’ I nod my
understanding.
‘When do they open?’
‘It rained a little last night. So I think they’ll open a
round 7.30, but let me find out how far they are.’
She is nice and helpful. That’s good customer care. I like
that.
She disappears behind the guard house for a short while and
comes back.
‘They’ll be here by 7.30’.
It’s now 6.50am and I can’t wait that long to rent a bike.
It’s a sign. I believe in signs. No riding today.
So I pay the entry fee and turn back to pick Chiki. It’s her
happy-go-lucky day.
You should see her when I pick up the leash. Gosh, this girl
can really be happy! I wish I could be that exuberant. She gets all jumpy and
merry. She simply can’t wait.
And that’s what really counts, isn’t it? Adventure, I mean.
We are back at the Karura gate in no time and hit the
trails.
Today I take the first turn south. I have never been on this
trail before. We are all alone for a short distance before to we meet the first
lone jogger.
For him to be this near to the gate at this hour he must have started
around 6.15am or thereabouts. An early riser, that one.
Back to our meandering. We jog a little. Then Chiki hears something.
We stop. I let him satisfy her curiosity. Then we walk a little. Chiki smells
something and wants to investigate. We Stop. Jog a little. Stop. Change course
here. Then there. Start. Jog here. Walk there. Nothing planned. Just another
crab on the beach.
With no time or distance constraints, I just let curiosity
loose. Where does this trail lead? Let’s find out. Oh…so it links to this other
one? That’s nice to know. Let’s try this other one.
On and on.
I catch myself thinking of Walden. What do people do at Karura Forest?
That thought makes me super aware. I
start noticing things. For example…
There is this guy. Mid-forties or early fifties. He passes
us jogging and grunting loudly, sweat dripping down his cheeks. ‘What is that
about?’ I ask myself. He must have a target in mind. That’s why he is so
determined and braving the pain. But I notice that his pace is rather slow. His
target must be distance, not time. May be the doctor told him something. Or he
is preparing for a charity run. Doesn’t matter. What matters is he has the focus.
I hear some noise behind me. I turn and see a gentleman in
the company of several youngsters coming down. As they zoom past I count 7
riders in all, riding closely together in one neat line. The older gentleman is
at the center barking instructions to the youngsters to ride in line and keep
their discipline. I like that. A lot. That’s what families are about. Strong
bonds. Doing things together. Minding about each other. And elders taking
responsibility to bring up the next generation. 'Cool', I say to myself.
Ahead of us is a couple. Young. The lady is in a ponytail,
loose slacks and a small rucksack. The guy is in smart casual. Not suitable for
jogging. And they are not jogging either. Theirs is a relaxed stroll. Almost
lazy. No hurry to get anywhere. The man appears to be doing much of the
talking. It’s a date, this one. As we pass them the lady looks at Chiki and
says, ‘Cute’. Just like that. Like it’s the most ordinary thing in the world. Except
that I know it’s not. I only hear this from lovers and children, and certainly,
never from men! When you are in love, everything is cute. And when you are a
child, every pet is cute.
Around the corner, on a different trail, another couple
passes us, walking in a rapid pace. They are older. The guy is in blue jeans
and a loose-fitting stripped shirt. The lady is in tights and a gym top. Working
people. They look fit. The rapid pace gives the lady an interesting accentuated
swing at the waist, more like a sheep’s tail. The lady is doing much of the
talking. A married couple, no doubt, perhaps hurrying for breakfast or to
prepare brunch for an afternoon meet with friends and family.
Meanwhile, me and Chiki keep going in and out of foot trails.
In one of the trails we come across this old rubbish incinerator that I’ve
never seen before. It’s interesting what you see when you dare to venture out.
It’s a difficult choice. I guess they are not the same. They
feel different. And each gives you a different experience of Mother Nature. I
can move fast and far with the bike. But I cannot enter certain 'panya' routes
with a bike.
Why not just have them both?
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