I’ve always admired people who go hiking. They seem effortlessly adventurous — climbing mountains, conquering trails, and posting those breathtaking summit photos that scream “main character energy.”
I’d seen countless TikTok videos of hikers — even those stranded on Mount Everest — and wondered, “Why would anyone choose pain for fun?” My curiosity eventually got the better of me. How bad could it really be?
So, when my friend invited me for a Saturday hike up Mount Longonot, I said yes. No hesitation, no second thoughts — just misplaced confidence.
We arrived at Mt Longonot National Park in Nakuru County around 10 a.m. The air was crisp, the sky cloudy, and my optimism was sky-high.
The plan? Hike 3.1 kilometers to the rim, then another 7.2 kilometers around the crater. “Piece of cake,” I thought — after all, my morning walks to the bus stop and back had surely prepared me for this.
The first 20 minutes were great. Our group was full of energy — blasting music, cracking jokes, even shouting “Jowi! Jowi!” in honor of the late Prime Minister. The laughter faded quickly, though, replaced by heavy breathing and the sound of our boots crunching over rocky paths.
That’s when I realized: this was no ordinary stroll. It was steep, winding, uneven, and relentless. Every bend felt like the last — but it never was.
By the time we hit the halfway mark, I was completely drained. My legs trembled, my head spun, and nausea crept in.
I told my friend, “That’s it. I’m going back.” But after gulping down some water and glucose, I reminded myself why I came — to conquer something outside my comfort zone. I couldn’t quit now, not when the crater — the reward — was so close.
We pushed on. Every step hurt, but the cheers from people ahead shouting “We’ve made it!” gave us the strength to keep going.
The crater opened before us, vast and majestic. The view of the Great Rift Valley stretched endlessly, with Lake Naivasha shimmering in the distance. The exhaustion, the blisters, the dizziness — all of it vanished for a moment.
It was worth it. Every painful step. We even decided to walk around the crater’s rim, heading to Kilele Ngamia, the mountain’s highest peak. The terrain was still tough, but my spirit was lighter — I had already done the impossible.
After about three hours of exploring the rim, we began our descent. Surprisingly, it only took an hour, and I wasn’t as tired as I’d expected. Instead, I felt proud — stronger, braver, and more alive.
That day taught me something powerful: the mind gives up long before the body does. As Napoleon Hill once said, “Our only limitations are those we set up in our own minds.”
Mount Longonot humbled me, challenged me, and gave me an unforgettable memory — and now, I can’t wait for my next hike.
