ADVENTURE

The loo needs binoculars, not a book,' says my host Helen as she points the way. She could not have been more right. I've used some fantastically positioned loos in my time, but this one takes some beating. A drop loo, yet with a wooden seat, perched on the edge of a mountain. Down below, a herd of elephants wander and the variety of birds is kaleidoscopic.

I am in Kenya's Ndoto Mountains, in the remote Northern Frontier District, where I have come to join one of Helen's five-day walking safaris, accompanied by a camel train to carry our luggage. I'm lucky to have been invited to spend my first night in her home - and what a location. She and her partner Pete live for much of the year (when not on safari) on top of Elkanto hill, in the middle of nowhere; it's miles from any road or town, with a 360° view of the Milgis Lugga as it twists through a blanket of bosomy hills billowing into eternity.

The only way to get here is by a small Cessna plane from Nairobi; I jump in one alongside my pilot, Harro. We fly over the Aberdares and Mount Kenya, where the green land is parcelled into fields and ranches, before a distinctive change happens and the wild landscape unfolds its endless space and bone-dry pastureland. Here the Samburu live, semi-nomadic pastoralists related to, and yet very different from, the Maasai. This beautiful yet barren vista is broken only by circles of their bomas (homesteads) and fences of thorn protecting their beloved cattle.   

It is when we land that I realise quite how out of the way we are. Helen and Pete are waiting for me together with a group of Samburu, who are dressed in red loincloths and beaded headdresses, reclining under an acacia tree. Helen greets me warmly. A white Kenyan born on a farm in Nakuru, she has been leading camel-ccompanied walking safaris here for more than two decades and is wearing bracelets made from Samburu beads and camel-shaped earrings.

It's a hot rocky climb up Elkanto. Yet it's wonderful to be somewhere so untamed. The word home usually evokes walls, but not on Elkanto. With the lack of rain, everyone sleeps outside, although there are a couple of straw shelters. Helen leads me to the part of the hill where I will be sleeping. There's a lone double bed with crisp cotton sheets, a rug beside it, and then just a view of vast land, empty and wide.  A swimming pool shines turquoise within the rocks of the hilltop. 'The Samburu helped us build this. It took weeks to bring the water up here, carrying it by hand in jerrycans,' Helen explains. After a day of travelling I gladly dive in and quickly sink into the rhythm of this place, staring out at the unbelievable views. The air is filled with uplifting song as a couple of Samburu who work for Helen wander around singing. 'Their life is song,' Helen tells me. Once on safari I realise how true this is - they sing the whole time, about everything. 

That evening we sit under the stars eating dinner. 'As soon as we found this hill we knew this is where we wanted to live,' says Helen. The Samburu gave the land to Helen after getting to know her, following years of watching her go by on safari. Helen is fiercely protective of the Samburu; not only does she provide employment through her safaris but she has set up the Milgis Trust, which protects the local habitat and Samburu way of life.

The next day I wake as the sun rears its burning red head over the hills. A bucket of water waits, hanging from a tree, with mountainside views. Showering has never felt so good. I then wander down to where the camels are being prepared. A lot of arrangement goes into these safaris and although it is just Helen, Pete, my husband and I on this occasion — together with 25 camels and 17 Samburu — much is needed. This may be a mobile safari in an isolated environment, but it is five-star luxury.

We set off for the Ndoto and Matthews Range. Along the way Helen points out the different birds and, as we pass remote villages, she explains Samburu customs. Kosma, the Samburu leading our group, is holding aloft a white flag. 'This shows we come in peace. The different tribes living in this region fight over water and pasture,' Helen says. In the golden afternoon light, we come across a striking scene, a traditional manyatta (cattle enclosure) made of animal skins. The soil is rust red and several women, wearing thick red necklaces, with ochre painted on their skin, lead their cows towards us. I grab my camera but Helen stops me — she wants to shield the Samburu as much as she can.

Each day our surroundings are as captivating as the last; we are entirely immersed in our environment and follow the day's natural rhythms. We start walking before sunrise, after tea and biscuits. Breakfast is then produced several hours later in a carefully chosen spot, always with a spectacular view. Here, toast, homemade muesli, bacon and sausages are all miraculously served. Breakfast has never had such backdrops. 

After a further three-hour trek, another place is then found for lunch before we arrive in camp early afternoon. The tents are already set up on arrival, with our bed inside enticingly made. The attention to detail is monumental. Afternoons are spent enjoying the camp's location, followed by a delicious candlelit dinner served around a roaring fire. My pre-dinner gin and tonics even have ice in them. 'We carry enough ice for six days,' Pete tells me.

One afternoon a group of Samburu begin to sing as we walk. There is something so mesmerising about the scene, the drama of their dress and beaded headgear, that the power of their voices makes me a little teary. They repeat lines louder and louder, improvising stories in song. I follow behind, spellbound.

Helen Douglas-Dufresne specialises in walking safaris in northern Kenya. A five-day safari costs from £2,750 pp, which includes everything except international flights and transfers. Visit wildfrontierskenya.com. For the Milgis Trust, visit milgistrustkenya.com.

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