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Hawk Camp: The Worst and Best of Times
I love camping – despite the fact it almost always involves some measure of discomfort, misery and danger, either real or imagined. And if you survive, those are all good things because camping pushes you out of your comfort zone, shows what you’re capable of and, hear me out…provided you keep your sense of humor and an eye on the BIG picture, it’s one of life’s greatest opportunities for Entertaining Yourself –and others too –with the stories you bring back.
When things do go wrong, (as they inevitably do when nature’s in charge), sometimes the situations get so ridiculous you begin to wonder if you actually lived through them, saw them on TV or just remembered them from a dream.
I discovered this for myself at the ripe old age of 18 when my girlfriend, Bijani—a name with Persian origins meaning hero— suggested we have one final romantic getaway before leaving for college. Hey, it was the summer before freshman year – a time full of promise and new experiences – so without hesitating (or truly thinking about what we were getting ourselves into) I said “Absolutely!”
Our destination: The remote Hawk Camp, which overlooks Gerbode Valley in the Golden Gate National Recreation area. Bijani knew enough about the Parks to call ahead for a reservation, and I knew that camping would give me the opportunity to impress her with my handiness at directions – especially since the Park is just a short distance from my house.
Full of enthusiasm, we planned a dawn start, hoping to arrive at the campsite with plenty of time to scope out the area. In fact, it was 10:00 a.m. when two sleepy teens backed out of my girlfriend’s driveway, which probably explains why, somewhere between her house and the park, we got lost. Not badly exactly, we just couldn’t for the life of us find the trailhead.
“What were you telling me about a natural sense of direction?” Bijani chuckled.
Oops…this was not going quite the way I planned…but I thought it best to be a good sport. “Ok”, I smiled, “we can ask for directions.”
Three parking lots, a couple of off ramps and onramps, and one visit to a ranger station later and we had a map, (as well as a clue) about where to go. It was 90 degrees, Bijani’s car had no air conditioning, but hey…we were young and our readiness to laugh at anything, plus a sing along session to “Tainted Love” and other 80s classics, saw us up to the point where we unpacked the car in high spirits.
Yes, it was already 1 p.m., still, we had the whole bright afternoon before us and the prospect of a leisurely, satisfying hike. What did a dusty, steep fire road matter? We had glorious sunshine and coastal shrubbery surrounding us, as we passed the time doing what a pair of kinda nerdy high-schoolers like to do: discussing our friend’s lives and Star Wars trivia, and arguing about whether Hobbe’s description of man’s condition as “nasty, brutish, and short” was right (at the time I argued it wasn’t, but after our trip was over, I wasn’t so certain anymore).
We continued climbing, but the higher we ascended the foggier it became and the less helpful our map seemed; it dawned on us that we hadn’t seen a sign for Hawk Camp since we first started. Now a cascade of fog greeted us as we crested a hill, only able to see the fuzzy outlines of nearby brush and what looked like lunar landing equipment.
“Where are we?” Bijani said.
“A weather station?”
“What’s there?”
From the haze a shape approached us rapidly, and a biker gradually materialized before us. “Thank heaven,” we thought, “someone who can help us!”
“Excuse me.” Bijani said after he stopped for a drink of water, “do you know where Hawk Camp is?”
He wasn’t from the area, he told us, remounting his bike and slowly riding off. “Sometimes what you seek is right before you,” he said over his shoulder.
“Thanks… I think,” Bijani said, and we laughed. A real life brush with a Philosopher…or a jerk…I wasn’t entirely sure, but at least we knew there was human life out there so we couldn’t be too far off the mark… could we?
We decided not to “look ahead” but to follow our own inclination to turn around, descending back into the sunshine where we found a sign for Hawk Camp, hidden behind some chaparral (which for those of you who haven’t spent much time in the woods of the Southwest, are thorny bushes not really fun to be close to.) Back on track, and with only a few burrs in our clothing, it was now 4:00 p.m. and, starving, we stopped at a small rock outcrop for a well deserved snack.
I got out our olive bread and cheese (real campers have to think healthy, so we didn’t bust out the Twinkies, even though you always see those wrappers in parts of the park you wouldn’t expect). Mmmmm…I could all but taste the delicious combo, warm from being in our back packs…but just as I ripped off a piece, ready to take that big first bite, a sharp, slobbery something chomped my hand. I heard a yelp in the distance: “No Bobo, No Bobo!”
I found myself wrestling with Bobo, a generously proportioned yellow lab, who was alternately tearing bread from my hand and biting it. Victorious, the dog scampered off with the entire loaf still partially inside it’s now ragged bag. A jogger in full spandex ran past. “Sorry—he doesn’t usually do that. Come back Bobo, Come back.”
Bijani and I looked at each other in stunned silence for a second. “Who is this person???” we thought.
“Don’t come back,” I yelled, and we sat down laughing again. We only had one loaf of bread left for tonight and tomorrow morning, but we had some other provisions and good company goes a long way.
An hour later, we spotted the last sign for Hawk Camp, following the arrow along a narrow trail to a somewhat dejected gathering of cedars. Not quite the setting we were expecting, but hey…we were on our own and so far, our adventure had been <mostly> fun. It was nearly 6:00 when we finally unloaded on a bench near our allotted campsite. It’d been a long day and both of us just wanted to set up and eat an unobstructed meal.
Already the coastal fog was rolling in and the sun grew weaker and weaker. This was the real test of the positivity we’d maintained all day. As we struggled to erect the tent, a strong wind picked up, snapping one of the supports and threatening to blow the whole shelter away. After a pitched battle lasting nearly two hours, we stepped back to admire our handiwork, which would have passed for the Hunchback of Notre Dame’s less attractive cousin. It was almost completely dark.
We gave up on exploring, settling into our sleeping bags to realize that not only was the ground slanted, but moisture was condensing on the campsite’s trees, falling in large drops exclusively on our slouched tent, and filling it with water to kiddy pool levels.
“We could move,” I whispered.
“Too tired,” Bijani replied, turning away.
I’ve heard adversity brings people together, and at that moment, I felt like I could read Bijani’s thoughts. She was thinking: I hate you for bringing me here. And then I thought…hey, this was your big idea…and then I thought…well, actually, I was too exhausted to think anymore and I fell into a deep sleep, the kind that is easiest when you are young and you are trying to escape life’s pressures!)
We woke up wet, exhausted and hungry, and silently, we drained our tent. I figured we’d return home, Bijani would break up with me and I’d probably catch pneumonia. But then something amazing began to happen, even as we were hauling our waterlogged clothes and supplies, our spirits rose with the sun, and increased the further we got away from Hawk Camp.
“Well,” Bijani said as we retraced our steps on the fire road, “at least we have a good story.” I realized she was right! I already couldn’t wait to call up our friends and tell them about everything that had happened; we’d be the life of the next party. Or not… it didn’t really matter because at least Bijani and I were laughing about it. And in the end, I guess, that’s the best thing you can hope for from a camping or any other experience. Of course, one good tale per adventure is more than enough and for this excursion, we were both happy to have an uneventful trip back to the car and home. But the next time a friend called to ask me to go camping…you know what I said… “Absolutely!” Hey..sometimes you’ve just got to go ahead and jump-in!
-Will-
How to Beat Boredom
The Ngong’ athletic training camp is located thirty kilometres, west of Nairobi, Kenya’s capital city. The camp consists of a group of individuals from different parts of the country and indeed, the world with a common goal of achieving success in the field of athletics. (A note to our American readers- the word “athletics” is used around the world to mean the sport of running including cross country and track). Athletes train as a group under the careful watch of their coaches and guidance of senior athletes. Health services such as massage and a fitness gym are offered to keep the athletes in good shape. The training camp is located in an extraordinary location near the Ngong’ Hills. The hills provide beautiful sceneries for sightseeing, hiking and team building. One gets a chance to see the country side from a bird’s eye view; the scenery is spectacular and reassuring. The cool bushes also provide an ample, silent environment for meditation and building on one’s mental strength. Athletes depend on both physical fitness and mental strength for their success. Mental stability and good health translates to better performance.
As an athlete, my day is predetermined due to my training schedule. The morning hours and the evenings are my busiest moments. When I am not in the field training, I usually make sure that I engage in various activities to keep boredom at bay. Spending time with friends is the best way to beat boredom. We always engage in endless but exciting chats. The latest athletic events usually dominate our talks; analysis of athletics performance is done in a critical and entertaining manner. We all learn from the performances and experiences of other athletes in the camp. Laughter is said to be the best medicine: – Exciting stories from the team members leaves the crowd roaring with laughter. One funny story is of an athlete who bought a car and could not drive it at a slow speed since he is used to running fast. He got in trouble with the police for the better part of the year.
When I have free time, I spend it visiting relatives in Nairobi. There, I get to rekindle my best childhood memories with my family. I have made a personal choice to keep boredom on the periphery. Happiness, in most cases, is a matter of choice, so I spend most of my time thinking of the positive things in my life, not dwelling on the setbacks.
-Elisha-
A Perspective on Air Travel
An easy way to travel in Kenya
This could pass as an ordinary experience for most of you, but this is the moment that defines my adulthood. Throughout my childhood and teenage years, I have been used to travelling in public transport vehicles and in rare occasions, get a chance to ride in private vehicles.
My first experience on a plane was in late 2009. I had been asked by my manager to go over to Sweden for athletics trials in the hope that I would join a training camp in the country. (A note to our American readers- the word “athletics” is used around the world to mean the sport of running including cross country and track). The first time that I went near an airplane was when I went to see off a friend named Martin. He was heading to his homeland, the United States. As the saying goes, everything is possible if you believe, and I promised myself that I would board a plane just as my friend did.
Because I have gotten used to the chaotic public transport in our country, I thought the same applied to the planes. I was in for a pleasant surprise; the seats were big and so comfortable. I never thought that one could have a chance to eat something while in the air. I thought the food would defy the force of gravity and go upwards. I was filled with mixed reactions; I did not know what to do, should I go to sleep? Suddenly I felt the plane shake, (that was the most terrifying moment for me), and I thought the worst had come to worse. I struggled to free myself from my seatbelt. It took the reassurance of the gracious air hostess that that is a normal occurrence and that I should not panic. I could see that the other passengers were surprised with my behavior, others smiled at me to reassure me that all was well.
When we left Jomo Kenyatta Airport in Kenya, I thought that was the biggest airport in the world; I was wrong. After some hours, we landed in Amsterdam, and as we touched down, I was amazed with the size of the airport I saw. The planes landed every minute and I could not believe my eyes. The environment around me was so different than the one I am used to. I saw skyscrapers and bigger planes than I ever imagined, I simply could not believe what I saw. We then boarded another plane to Stockholm. The journey to Stockholm was great because I had no worries when we experienced some turbulence. The view was so breath taking that I forgot my fears and worries and lived in the moment.
On touching down in Sweden, I was picked up by a man holding a placard containing my name. That was when I was taken to the best hotel that I have ever seen. This kind of hotel is always reserved for the wealthy and politicians in my country and I finally knew that I had fulfilled the promise I had made to myself and that the future would only bring more experiences to strive for.
-Elisha
My First trip to Nairobi our capital city
I remember this day very well. After my final high school examinations in 2003, it was time for me to concentrate on my career as a middle distance runner. It was on the August 4, 2004 that the long awaited day finally arrived. I was told that I was going to join the athletics camp by the name “Ngong’ Training camp”. 
The camp is located in the outskirts of Nairobi; 30 kilometers to the west to be precise. (A note to our American readers- the word “athletics” is used around the world to mean the sport of running including cross country and track).
A camp is a special location where both experienced and aspiring athletes train together for a common goal. As a boy, I had dreamt of following the footsteps of the great runners of my country Kenya. I was introduced to the camp by my mentor in athletics, Wilson Kipketer Boit. He is one of Kenya’s steeplechase champions and he had promised to take me there himself.
I was so delighted that I would be pursuing my dream in the camp regarded as the home of great runners. Before the day came, I was so excited that I lost my appetite. I asked my family not to include me in their meals since I had prepared myself to eat something (that I later came to learn were fries) on the travel day. When the travel day came, I woke early in the morning and got prepared for the journey. I could not wait to jump into the car and bid farewell to the countryside. I sat near the window so that I would get a better view of the major towns on the way to the city.
Leaving Home
I remember asking the driver to make several stops along the road to look around. He laughed at my inquisitive nature; I could see he thought that I was crazy. I could not believe that I was finally heading to the capital city.
Traffic picks up closer to Nairobi
When I arrived to the city, I was amazed by the sight I saw. This was a fairy tale come true- I thought to myself. There I saw tall buildings and a larger number of people than I had never seen before. We stopped in the city to have a drink in one of the best restaurants in town. The services there were of the highest standards I had ever experienced. The waiters were so friendly and understanding. I kept on smiling the whole time, and again, I think these people thought I was crazy.
We then left the city and headed to Ngong’ or as we call it Ngong’ town where the camp is located. I could not hide my excitement; I narrated all that I had seen to everyone who cared to hear me out. I was very happy that I at last had the opportunity to be in the city. It was a very exhilarating moment for me.
-Elisha-
Downtown Nairobi
Athletics Stadium in Nairobi