Member-only story
Mackinders
Kenya — Silly poems for your backpack
The door swung open, the others were there,
I put down my wet bag, and squeezed my wet hair.
A ten K hike, of all sorts of terrain,
My spirits a touch dampened, because of the rain.
It started so sunny, so gleeful and hot,
As we departed our morning sleeping spot.
The mountain soon emerged, and an uphill slog,
Soft ground, to say the least, in this vertical bog.
You tried to find some grass, to step on the way,
Like hopscotch but harder, and not as fun to play.
The mud was so sticky, something akin to glue,
We were so lucky and happy, not to lose a shoe.
At last, the bog behind us, and onto the rock,
The incline continued to the picnic spot.
Snacks were had, with birds, and a mice or three,
The clouds then rolled over, making it harder to see.
The uphill wasn’t over, and the drizzle began to pour,
No longer enjoying views, we picked up the pace some more.
The shrubs thinned out, as we reached a plateau,
Our waterproofs no longer, stopping the flow.
A drop and a stream now running down my neck,
The cold wind picking up, to harden this trek.
Flatter was better, but still no end in sight,
I caught up with the porters, and their carrying might.
We crossed a little stream, not much further now they said,
My buff and my hat, no longer warming my head.
A few more boulders, to climb over and beat,
Made a bit tougher, when you have wet, squelchy feet.
At last there was Mackinders, a rudimentary hut,
The windows mostly broken, the roof strong as a nut.
I stripped off and changed, into something warm and dry,
Shortly after followed, a hot mug of chai.
I wish I could it all again, but on a brighter day,
To gaze and explore and enjoy, the wonder of that way.
No going back though, the route’s a one way line,
On to Austrian Hut tomorrow, come snow, rain or shine.
While I travel, I enjoy writing a bit of poetry, mostly silly stuff, but all to remember the fun I had.
I publish them all on Medium, so check out my other poems here.
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