We arrive near the top, just in time for sunset. The whole place stinks, sulphur steaming from the side vents and the light is beautiful. I ask our group to stop. I’m exhausted but we are almost at the top. I grab the camera and try take a few images. Anywhere off the path is fresh ash, I’m creating new tracks in brand new earth which no person has walked on, quite a sensation. The light is amazing but I’m totally exhausted and we’re on a spur that has some serious drops on either side. Red flags are going off in my head- being tired and on top of a windy spur at 2800m is not a good place to be. I grab a few images and feel the wind pick up. “Hmmm not safe at all” I surmise. “Lets keep moving up to the crater rim.” 20 minutes later we crest the rim and the wind almost blows us off our feet. We are immediately bent down onto all fours. Pilot, my Masai friend hears the earth rumble- normal volcanic activity and proclaims he will never look into the crater again, something about man not supposed to look at the home of God. He averts his gaze to the dark horizon and straight into the howling wind. We need to find shelter, and fast.
“You want to climb now?” he asked. Through the sweat, the heat and the not so unnoticed effects of some serious drugs maintaining my health, I replied “Ndio”, Yes. He looked at me incredulously shaking his head, “No one climbs Lengai in the day, only at night. Too hot in the day”. I almost understood, the sweat dripping off me right there. I imagined how hot it would be on the slope of the volcano… The guide chipped in; “Umzungu, I have climbed that volcano 47 times and not once have I done it in the day”. I looked at my Masai friend, Nuorori, ‘Pilot’. He understood, and so the next round of Maa rattled off with lots of shaking, gesturing and worried faces being made. Pilot is a good friend of mine because he is a great guy, has untold resources in remote Africa and stops to admire every cow we pass on the road. But he also has this skill for getting things done, and in remote Africa that is worth a lot. One hour later we were in his cruiser with a guide and porter heading towards Lengai with rudimentary foodstuffs, lots of water and cameras in hand- all before 11 in the morning. In Africa, sometimes things move very, very quickly.
I awake to a sound. Something I’m not familiar with at 01h00 in the morning, nor at 2850m above sea level. The side of the tent was flapping wetly across my head, my beanie keeping me slightly dry, but that was not it. I sat up and listened. There, three bodies away lay the Masai porter prostrate, still fully clothed in his beads and shuka, singing softly away. It was a gentle kind of monotonous hum that can be either a lullaby or a calm inference of intended death. I looked closer and saw him cradling his Kisu, a long stabbing knife/dagger on his chest. I wasn’t exactly sure if there was evil intent or not, but I was sore, tired and so mentally low that I didn’t really care either. I lay back on the cold ground, my head 6 inches from Pilot trying to go back to sleep. The cold and rain had come quite unexpected, which resulted in 4 of us being crammed into a 3 man tent dirty and still clothed. I heard the beads of the porters jingle as he turned over, the singing stopped. The tent flapped again against my head and neck. It was going to be a long night; I was very aware of it. All I could hope for was that the rain would clear before dawn. Another 2 hours and 30 minutes before the alarm clock goes and I can check the conditions. Man I want to use my damn camera.
Pilot stops in his tracks. I’ve never seen him look like this- purple. I walk on, concentrating on not sliding down in the ash- at 30 degrees angle it’s not very easy. Every step is three up, two down. Pilot shouts, “Shem Stop, I don’t feel very good. My head is dizzy”. It dawns on me. I ask him “what is the highest mountain you have climbed?” He looks at me, puzzled that I could ask such a stupid question. “In the Mara, Lookout Hill. Why should I climb a higher hill? No grazing for cattle on the hills”. It’s confirmed. Pilot is suffering from Vertigo. I don’t blame him. Ol doinyo lengai is no easy climb. It is exactly the opposite; it is described as “… an extreme climb and scramble. Make sure you are not afraid of heights…”. I reply to him. “Pilot, you have height sickness. Don’t worry, you will be fine, you are a Masai, not a gnu. Just keep looking at the ground and walk.” All I had to do was mention a comparison to a gnu. Pilot loves using them as a metaphor to describe anything crazy or useless. To his credit, he only decided to climb up with me at the last minute with only his satchel bag holding two extra shukas (Masai blankets) and some water. In a way it was best, because climbing Lengai, as I discovered, is one hour of hiking pain in 40 degrees heat and 5 more hours of mental torture, scrambling, slipping and eating volcanic ash in your lungs. I knew what I was getting myself into. Pilot on the other hand was winging it with his umzungu friend, and learning a few things about extreme heights at the same time!
It’s the last wake up call. I’ve set it for every hour of the morning since 01h00 in the hope of the sky clearing. As it rings I’m up and out the tent only to be greeted by more rain and wind. Damn. All my photographic plans thwarted. Rain, wind and cloud covered this mystical volcano from the moment I arrived at the top. The name Ol Doninyo Lengai means “The Mountain of the God” in Maa and if you climb it you will know why. Even Pilots father, an old Masai mzee in his 80’s asked his son to bring him back a white stone from the volcano. The place has reverence. I expended a lot of time and energy to get here, ending up with no results. My emotions are torn between despair and exploration. I came her because no one else does. Then I climbed it when no one else does- in the heat of the day, with some seriously good people. The exersize in getting to Lengai was as painful as it gets but as enriching as any I could imagine getting anywhere else in the world. I interacted and bonded with guys who were fighting as much pain as I was. Yet I got not one single usable photo: thwarted by the weather gods. Plus I am suffering in extreme physical pain. Due to the extreme heights and slope angle, the weight limit is 10kg per person. I was carrying 22kg. Good training for the iron man I thought… Was it worth it? Up there I thought no way. Climbing down, quads aching, sliding through the soft ash, falling over and again eating dust, no way. Yet he following morning at 04h00 packing up to drive back to Nairobi I looked up from our campsite. There, 15km away in the starlight it stood in perfect photographic conditions, beckoning quietly to me. The dream was reignited. Pity I was 10 hours of climbing away from the top.
I’ll remember the first climb to Ol Doinyo Lengai for many years to come. I may not have got any usable photographs from the trip. But the love of photography my life that much more richer just by taking me there. And for that I am ever grateful to the medium.
This short video gives you an idea of the strength of the wind on top of the crater rim the morning we descended.
Read more!
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| Set in the middle of the Rift Valley, Ol Doino Lengai stands proud.
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“You want to climb now?” he asked. Through the sweat, the heat and the not so unnoticed effects of some serious drugs maintaining my health, I replied “Ndio”, Yes. He looked at me incredulously shaking his head, “No one climbs Lengai in the day, only at night. Too hot in the day”. I almost understood, the sweat dripping off me right there. I imagined how hot it would be on the slope of the volcano… The guide chipped in; “Umzungu, I have climbed that volcano 47 times and not once have I done it in the day”. I looked at my Masai friend, Nuorori, ‘Pilot’. He understood, and so the next round of Maa rattled off with lots of shaking, gesturing and worried faces being made. Pilot is a good friend of mine because he is a great guy, has untold resources in remote Africa and stops to admire every cow we pass on the road. But he also has this skill for getting things done, and in remote Africa that is worth a lot. One hour later we were in his cruiser with a guide and porter heading towards Lengai with rudimentary foodstuffs, lots of water and cameras in hand- all before 11 in the morning. In Africa, sometimes things move very, very quickly.
I awake to a sound. Something I’m not familiar with at 01h00 in the morning, nor at 2850m above sea level. The side of the tent was flapping wetly across my head, my beanie keeping me slightly dry, but that was not it. I sat up and listened. There, three bodies away lay the Masai porter prostrate, still fully clothed in his beads and shuka, singing softly away. It was a gentle kind of monotonous hum that can be either a lullaby or a calm inference of intended death. I looked closer and saw him cradling his Kisu, a long stabbing knife/dagger on his chest. I wasn’t exactly sure if there was evil intent or not, but I was sore, tired and so mentally low that I didn’t really care either. I lay back on the cold ground, my head 6 inches from Pilot trying to go back to sleep. The cold and rain had come quite unexpected, which resulted in 4 of us being crammed into a 3 man tent dirty and still clothed. I heard the beads of the porters jingle as he turned over, the singing stopped. The tent flapped again against my head and neck. It was going to be a long night; I was very aware of it. All I could hope for was that the rain would clear before dawn. Another 2 hours and 30 minutes before the alarm clock goes and I can check the conditions. Man I want to use my damn camera.
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| The view while climbing up is nothing less then spectacular overlooking Lake Natron and the Serengeti plains to the west. |
Pilot stops in his tracks. I’ve never seen him look like this- purple. I walk on, concentrating on not sliding down in the ash- at 30 degrees angle it’s not very easy. Every step is three up, two down. Pilot shouts, “Shem Stop, I don’t feel very good. My head is dizzy”. It dawns on me. I ask him “what is the highest mountain you have climbed?” He looks at me, puzzled that I could ask such a stupid question. “In the Mara, Lookout Hill. Why should I climb a higher hill? No grazing for cattle on the hills”. It’s confirmed. Pilot is suffering from Vertigo. I don’t blame him. Ol doinyo lengai is no easy climb. It is exactly the opposite; it is described as “… an extreme climb and scramble. Make sure you are not afraid of heights…”. I reply to him. “Pilot, you have height sickness. Don’t worry, you will be fine, you are a Masai, not a gnu. Just keep looking at the ground and walk.” All I had to do was mention a comparison to a gnu. Pilot loves using them as a metaphor to describe anything crazy or useless. To his credit, he only decided to climb up with me at the last minute with only his satchel bag holding two extra shukas (Masai blankets) and some water. In a way it was best, because climbing Lengai, as I discovered, is one hour of hiking pain in 40 degrees heat and 5 more hours of mental torture, scrambling, slipping and eating volcanic ash in your lungs. I knew what I was getting myself into. Pilot on the other hand was winging it with his umzungu friend, and learning a few things about extreme heights at the same time!
![]() |
| The wind on top of the crater rim as so strong that it rendered us to sitting down or on all fours. |
It’s the last wake up call. I’ve set it for every hour of the morning since 01h00 in the hope of the sky clearing. As it rings I’m up and out the tent only to be greeted by more rain and wind. Damn. All my photographic plans thwarted. Rain, wind and cloud covered this mystical volcano from the moment I arrived at the top. The name Ol Doninyo Lengai means “The Mountain of the God” in Maa and if you climb it you will know why. Even Pilots father, an old Masai mzee in his 80’s asked his son to bring him back a white stone from the volcano. The place has reverence. I expended a lot of time and energy to get here, ending up with no results. My emotions are torn between despair and exploration. I came her because no one else does. Then I climbed it when no one else does- in the heat of the day, with some seriously good people. The exersize in getting to Lengai was as painful as it gets but as enriching as any I could imagine getting anywhere else in the world. I interacted and bonded with guys who were fighting as much pain as I was. Yet I got not one single usable photo: thwarted by the weather gods. Plus I am suffering in extreme physical pain. Due to the extreme heights and slope angle, the weight limit is 10kg per person. I was carrying 22kg. Good training for the iron man I thought… Was it worth it? Up there I thought no way. Climbing down, quads aching, sliding through the soft ash, falling over and again eating dust, no way. Yet he following morning at 04h00 packing up to drive back to Nairobi I looked up from our campsite. There, 15km away in the starlight it stood in perfect photographic conditions, beckoning quietly to me. The dream was reignited. Pity I was 10 hours of climbing away from the top.
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| My one photo of the inside of the crater before the cloud moved in. |
I’ll remember the first climb to Ol Doinyo Lengai for many years to come. I may not have got any usable photographs from the trip. But the love of photography my life that much more richer just by taking me there. And for that I am ever grateful to the medium.
![]() |
| Masai Manyattas (huts) are dwarfed by Lengai in the background. |
This short video gives you an idea of the strength of the wind on top of the crater rim the morning we descended.
























































