Background: 

In September/October 2025, I walked 111 miles through Tsavo West and Tsavo East National Parks in Kenya. The journey followed the Tsavo and Galana Rivers and was led by Tropical Ice.   They handled the camp setup, meals, and logistics—all we had to do was walk and carry a day pack with water and other essentials.

The Finish Line

We were five dusty figures walking hand-in-hand toward the gate. The temperature raised to 94 degrees that day.   The warmest day of the walk…and it was a double walk day, walking in the morning and afternoon to get to the end of the park. Red dust clinging to everything. Heat rippling through the air. After years of dreaming, months of training, and days of walking—it was over. Just over.

Done.

I had done it. I finished.  We all did.  The others had blisters, knee injuries, bone spurs, and gout…and we all walked EVERY SINGLE MILE, one step at a time.

I expected to feel triumphant. And yes, there was that - but also something else I didn’t see coming. A strange sense of emptiness. Like the trail had taken something with it when it ended.

Have you ever had a goal that thrilled and scared you, and once you achieved it, found yourself wondering: now what?

The Dream That Took Years to Start

My sister and I talked about this trip for years. A challenge and adventure.   Something to work towards, to accomplish.   To help motivate us to get off the couch and keep moving as we aged both in body and mind.     

I’ve had a few experiences of being on foot with animals, breathing the same air, sharing the same ground. There’s an intimacy in that. A humility.  It was something I loved and I wanted “more”.   I figured the wild Tsavo National Park over 10 days was just the adventure to get that more.

I didn’t dwell on expectations. I put my energy into training. I live a fairly sedentary life, and the thought of walking 10 miles a day for 10 days through semi-arid heat meant serious work ahead. So I focused: just finish the walk. No tapping out. No excuses. That was the focus and the goal.

We booked it nearly two years in advance. Then came the cancer diagnosis. Surgery. Recovery.  Treatments and more Recovery.   Suddenly I had less than a year to prepare. And so I trained through life’s interruptions. Walked when I could. Let determination lead.

I remember trying to get up to 10 miles a day.   I wasn’t sure I’d ever get there.   Even to this day, I’m not sure it was a physical limitation as much as a mental one – I was bored walking for hours.   Listening to music, trying to listen to podcasts (I am not an audible learner), letting my imagination run…the walks just seemed to drag and drag.    I started doubting that I’d ever get fit enough to do this.    

Then I hit the first 10 mile day – and “I didn’t die”.   The next 10 mile day.   Some days were harder than others…but I kept going – determined that if I trained consistently, I  would be able to finish the walk.  

A Simple Walk, A Vast Unknown

Tropical Ice starts the walk from Hemingways in Nairobi.  One night of luxury, soft beds, fabulous showers before the adventure begins.    We all met with Alex, the leader of our expedition and one of the partners for Tropical Ice.   Besides my sister and Monica (a friend we had met on a previous trip to Africa), we met the other two guests, Michelle and Shlomo.  

We didn’t know that night what a tight knit group we would become.   All so generous, kind, and open-hearted. The five of us would become a team, each with our own reason for walking, but all equally drawn to this adventure.

The rhythm of walking quickly took hold.  Wake up just before dawn (the sunrises in the bush are amazing), breakfast, and start walking at 7 am.    

At first I was surprised we started so late after sunrise but since most of the walk is along the river, we give the hippos time to return back to the river before we leave – thus preventing as much conflict with them as possible.

We would walk until between 12:00 – 1:30.   Return for a fabulous meal cooked in the bush by amazing culinary experts.

Some afternoons we stayed at camp, sometimes we went on a game drive, and on 2 days we walked in the afternoon for a second hike.    Then it was time for a much needed shower, some bush tv (bonfire on the beach with some yummy snacks) and drinks, dinner, sleep and repeat. 

It sounds simple and it stripped life to its essence. Step after step. The crunch of boots. The sound of your breath. Quiet.   Just the sounds of nature, the river, birds, the rustle of animals unseen.

The first few days were the hardest.   Not physically but mentally.   The red earth ground was littered with rocks and doum palm fruits…big enough that it seemed they just wanted to twist or break an ankle and have you down for the rest of the walk.    

The trails were also full of thorn bushes.   We were instructed to not hold the branches for the next person, to just shoulder through.    (If someone held the branch it then snapped back at the person behind…shouldering through made for less of a snap back.)  I was so grateful for my sunglasses as they protected the eyes from the thorns.

Then there were the “wait a minute thorns”.   Thorn bushes with thorns pointing in every direction, so if one of those caught you, you had to wait a minute until someone came to help get you unhooked.   I don’t think anyone of us managed to escape from getting a wee bit tangled in one of these.

We walked in a single file line in complete silence.   Eyes on the ground to avoid breaking an ankle.   The steps became monotonous.   It began to feel like torture.    Did we really sign up for 10 days of this?    When will it ever end?

Then, we’d turn a corner and see a family of elephants, or a glimpse of a waterbuck and all of a sudden, I found myself wishing this would never end.

And so it continued.   Dread of each boring step wishing it would end to then a beautiful view or an animal sighting hoping it would never end and dreading that it would end too soon.

The Scary / Uncomfortable Bits

Prior to the trip, Tropical Ice emailed a lot of information including recommended books to read as well as movies.  

I read 3 of the recommended books (and had read some of the others previously).    In 2 of the books (Outsider by Iain Allan and The Shadow of Kilimanjaro by Rick Ridgeway), they talked in depth about taking similar journeys.   

Rick Ridgeway spoke about scorpions and snakes.   They both talked about hippos, buffalos, elephants and crocodiles.   With the stories from the start of their company, some of the incidences were quite scary and had close calls.    

I tried not to dwell on these stories and continued to focus on just walking and the ability to finish the walk.

Toilet Trauma

Over 30 years ago, my first trip to Africa, I went to Tanzania on a very budget overland adventure.   We traveled in a big yellow truck and set up our own small tents.    So, no bathroom connected to the tent… a bit similar to what we embarked on in the Tsavo Walk.    

I remember VIVIDLY that at one of the campgrounds (just outside the Serengeti), a pride of lions came through camp in the middle of the night.   They stole canvas tent pole bags that were right next to my tent, a directors chair that was next to another person’s tent, and other miscellaneous items.    It was this same campground where there was a cobra curled up in one of the outhouses.   I also know that in other lodges (where the bathroom IS connected to the tent) that hippos graze around the tents as do elephants and buffalo.

Do you see where I’m going with this?

We each had a lovely walk in tent and a toilet tent and a shower tent.   The toilet and shower tents were positioned somewhat behind the sleeping tent.   

So, we had to leave our sleeping tent, walk around the tent (without tripping on the tent stakes) and go into the toilet tent if we needed to – in the middle of the night, in the dark!

This made me very nervous (ok scared).   I often have to go to the bathroom in the middle of the night.   Alex said we should be fine, the animals aren’t used to people or human noises and the sound of the zipper should scare them away…but then he always added – just remember, if you die, die with dignity!  And I was like – ummm…we are camping next to the river!   Hippos, crocodiles…hello I’m going to die going to the bathroom – ugh!

I remember the first night – so scared that I’d wake up and have to go and what was I going to do…”holding” it until the first peek of light in the morning, cramping up and uncomfortable because I really needed to pee.   Then making sure to put on my hiking boots (not my flip flops) because what if there’s a creepy crawly on the ground!   Do you know how hard it is to put on hiking boots when you have to pee so bad you’re about to burst? – not easy!!

As the days went on, I went from being very scared to figuring out I could just listen, then shine my light out the mesh screens of the tent to see if anything was out there (still putting on my boots) to then just wearing my flip flops and feeling very confident (of course, still being very careful – checking with my head lamp, listening, opening the zipper and waiting just a few heartbeats to see if I heard anything).  

No more holding it until I thought I was going to die from the discomfort.  Caution but unlearning helplessness along the way.

How deep IS the water?

The River Crossings were another scary part.  

We asked how high the river was and Alex said plan for it to be waist high.   He said it usually wasn’t that high, but if you made sure anything that couldn’t get wet (cell phones) were above the waist line, you’d be safe.   

It was never that high for our crossings.   It did get hip high a few times but by then we were pros.    We were instructed to bring shoes for the river crossing (water shoes), a towel to dry our feet with on the other side.   They really made sure we were taken care of.    

We walked 2 together, holding hands, one twosome right behind the next behind the next.   We walked in complete silence (silence from our mouths anyway, the splashing was not silent).    The first crossing was the scariest because you just didn’t know what to expect.   The rifles were carried in the ready position.    

The ground was mud – sometimes we sank quite far, sometimes it was just packed dirt – but it was very uneven and sometimes you’d step down much further than you expected, and other times your foot would slam on the ground much faster than you expected.    We learned to watch the legs of the folks in front of us to see how deep they went to help with our footing.

The water was very dark and you couldn’t even see 1 inch below the surface.   We knew there were crocodiles and hippos in the river but even if they were right in front of us, we wouldn’t have been able to see them (at least we, the guests wouldn’t have – we aren’t trained to see shadows and the movement of the water).

Before each crossing, the Samburu team would throw rocks into the river to startle whatever may be lurking below.   

On one crossing, there was a young hippo.   Unfortunately, they had to throw rocks (not to hit him) but to get him moving along so we could cross.   I felt really bad about that – this is his home and we are forcing him to move so we could walk.    That really didn’t sit well with me, but I thought if this is the worst thing that happens to him in his life, that’s a pretty good life…and he just moved further down the river and continued on with his life.   I think it bothered me more than it bothered him.

One time, after crossing right in front of the camp, later that afternoon, we saw 3, yes 3 giant crocodiles resting on the sand bars that we had earlier walked across and walked by – it’s one thing KNOWING that crocodiles are in the water, it was another thing entirely to SEE them right where we crossed (and would be crossing the next morning).    

I pointed them out to Alex and he kind of laughed at me (in a nice way) and said they knew they were there.  

Guns and Gut Instinct

We walked silently in single file and about every 20 minutes or so, the first guest would step to the side and let everyone pass and then take the position in the end of the line.   This way, we could all be up front some of the time, in back and in every position.    

The rifle bearers would casually hold their guns down by their side just sitting in one hand.    Early o when I was in front of the line and we approached some thicker bushes, I noticed the two rifles in front switch their carrying position so the gun was up at the chest level and ready to fire.    No discussion, just both doing it out of instinct and practice.   This happened mostly when we entered into thicker bushes and it was interesting to watch them and to notice my own heightened awareness whenever they did it.

They carry the guns for safety.    Of course, the goal is to never fire one.  If they do have to fire they will fire overhead of the animal to try to scare it.    The team had the utmost respect for the lives of the animals.   We were told that they fire the guns extremely rarely and on our trip, they never did (which made me so happy).

My sister and I had long talks about it.  If they had to shoot an animal because of us walking, how horrible that would be.  I’m not sure I’d ever get over that.   In the 25 + years that they have been operating, they have only shot their guns a few times and that is an excellent record and shows the skills of the trackers.

In the path of a hippo

On our walk, we had 2 incidents that were a bit dicey.   One more than the other.    It was one of our first days walking and we were in some thick bushes.   One of the Samburu whistled, (that’s how the Samburu communicate during the walk), the guns went into the ready position and we all stopped.    I was close to the front and I could see an animal, I thought a buffalo.    The pushed us back (not physically) but had us quickly go back the way we came, following one of the other trackers.   We weren’t really sure what was going on at the moment but knew it was serious.  

After they got us in a safe position, they told us it was a hippo.   We had been between him and the water but his back was turned and he didn’t see us.    

Since lions try to keep hippos away from the water in order to hunt them, hippos are very aggressive to anything that stands between them and the safety of water.   We walked well around the hippo and then saw him casually go into the water.   He had no idea the commotion his presence caused us.  

Surrounded by Elephants

The other almost dicey situation was in Tsavo East.   There was a big (or several) family groups in the bushes.    The wind was in our favor and they didn’t know we were there.

The individuals were spread out feasting on the bushes.   Part of the family moved into the clearing to another area of bushes and the wind shifted and they smelled us and ran away.  

One of the youngsters didn’t know where they went and was a bit upset.   We were fairly surrounded by elephants.   It was nerve wrecking to us (the tourists) but our Samburu guides never even raised their guns to the ready.  

As soon as we could safely leave the area, we did so the elephants could reunite and get on with their lives.

The beautiful parts  

The animals for the most part, we scared of us.   As soon as they saw, smelled, or heard us, they ran away.   But it was really beautiful to see them even when it was just a fleeting moment (the waterbucks, zebras, impalas, gazelles...).   

It was beautiful to just see them in their own world, living out their lives as they were meant to.

Many times we would watch a family group of elephants for just a few minutes and sneak away before they knew we were there.   I think those were the best parts.   Being a bit of a peeping tom – watching their lives unfold like a fly on the wall.   Truly wild with no change in behavior because of humans.  

There were vistas that were so stunning – not able to be captured on a camera, that just took your breath away.   The sunrises and sunsets.   It was all truly beautiful and appreciated.   

It was these moments, some that only lasted a blink of an eye, others that lasted for a long time, that made the journey worth while.   Made the monotony of one foot in front of the other again and again and again meaningful.     

“Friendly Elephants”
I think the most amazing part of the trip for me was our second to the last campground.    

The last 2 campgrounds, we stayed at 3 nights in each one.   This was because there weren’t suitable locations for them to set up camp for us to walk to each day (like in the first part of the trip).   So, we would drive from the end point back to camp and then back again the next morning so we could complete the entire journey.

When we arrived to the 2^nd to the last campground, they were taking us to our tents, and a huge bull was grazing between my and my sister’s tent.   This bull was a common visitor to this particular campsite and he was beautiful.    

We never approached him, but he did approach the tents and we got some incredible views of him only a few feet away.   If we were in the open, we would of course back up and give him space.   If we were near a tent, we would simply step into the tent.    I watched him for what felt like hours.    It was at his terms.   He got to decide how close he wanted to get.   He got to decide how long he stayed.

Why was he there?   Because the camp site was in one of the shaded areas in Tsavo East with big doum palm trees.   He loved the fruit of the palm tree and also loved the bark.   

Many other bull elephants would come too…but none of them were as comfortable around us as he was and they all kept their distance, just passing through.    

I named him Shadow.   Shadow was my beloved newfoundland – truly a gentle giant and so was this bull elephant.   It seemed fitting to call him a name of a soul I love.

The people

I’d be remiss if I didn’t mention the beautiful people that shared the adventure.   The 5 guests brought together by their desire for an adventure.   We shared blister band aids, encouragement, pain meds, personal items, and so much more.   It was a beautiful group with so much abundance in their spirit.   

Then the 4 Samburu.   Strangers that we had to trust from the first moment of the first walk.   With our lives in their hands, eyes, and ears.   How they guided us away from danger, always available with a helping hand over a few tough spots.   Greeting with a smile after the days end.   Making sure the river crossings were safe.   They did so much.

Alex our Tropical Ice guide.   His sense of humor, the stories and animal / nature facts he shared along the way.   How he took special care when elephants were in camp to make sure we felt and were safe.

The rest of the Tropical Ice team.    The chef and assistant.   I could FEEL their passion with every bite.   The team that set up and tore down the tents, that kept the camp going and made our adventure run like a swiss watch – perfectly.

It’s moments like those that I will never forget.

The Moment That Changed Me

One morning, the spotters signaled. Elephants.

We paused, then quietly backed up. Ten of us: five tourists, four Samburu, and our Tropical Ice guide. The 5 of us tourists were NOT trained to be stealthy, yet the elephants had no idea we were there. We watched them from a ridge, down by the river—feeding, crossing, rumbling softly to each other.

They were simply living their best lives, unaware that humans stood nearby. It was beautiful to see.    I’ve seen elephants thousands of times but they always knew I was there.    Having a peek inside a few moments of their lives, with them completely unaware of our presence was a feeling I’ll never forget.  

As we left the sighting, it hit me. If we’d been poachers, we could have wiped out the entire family in moments.

That thought gutted me.

As powerful as elephants seem, they’re heartbreakingly vulnerable. That realization deepened something I already believed: elephant hunting isn’t hunting—it’s killing. 

Alex, our guide, had been teaching us about elephants as keystone species. They tear down trees, letting light reach the forest floor. Their poor digestion spreads seeds that birds help carry to new places. They move forests. They open grasslands. They shape ecosystems.

And yet, we’ve fenced them in. We’ve closed their corridors. We blame them for destroying what they were born to regenerate. Now we talk about culling them because the forests are suffering. But the problem isn’t them. It’s us.  It’s us taking away their ability to do what they were meant to do – shape ecosystems.

I felt so privileged to witness that moment of wildness. And I walked away more certain than ever: protecting wild spaces means more than visiting them. It means defending the systems that make them work.

Crossing the Finish Line

On our final day, we walked in the morning. And in the afternoon. It was hot. Fatigue layered over the dust. We joined hands as we approached the end.

We crossed the invisible finish line together.   The others suffered with multiple blisters, one with a knee injury, one with bone spurs, and one with gout.    We all finished.   We crossed together, joined together forever in an unbelievable adventure.

Relief. Pride. Disbelief.

And something else. A quiet ache. Like something was left undone.

Still Walking

It’s been weeks since I left Tsavo, and I still haven’t untangled everything I felt out there. 

Part of me misses the simplicity. The silence. The trance. Part of me longs for the red dust and the distant silhouettes of animals moving across the horizon.  Part of me is incredibly happy its over.

And part of me just feels empty.

I didn’t expect this walk to change me. I thought it would be an adventure, a challenge, a fundraiser. And it was all those things. But it was also something I can’t quite name.

Maybe that’s the point.

I didn’t come back with answers. I came back with questions. About the world. About myself. About what I owe the places that have given me so much wonder and joy over the years.

I made a quiet promise to myself: on every trip going forward, I’ll donate to a non-profit operating in the area I’m visiting.  It’s these non-profits that protect the land and animals that give me so much joy and hope. A small step. A personal vow.

And maybe that’s how the walk continues—in the way I move through the world from now on.

The wild gives us so much: perspective, awe, connection. The least we can do is carry it with us.

If you’d like to see more from this journey, you can view my full Tsavo Walk photo and video gallery here.

A note of gratitude:
During my training for this walk, I decided to create a fundraiser for Tsavo Trust—a conservation organization I deeply believe in. With the help of friends, family, and supporters, we raised nearly $13,500 to protect the wild spaces and iconic species that make places like Tsavo so extraordinary. I’m endlessly grateful to everyone who helped with financial contributions and followed along on the journey.  THANK YOU!