South Horr, a Samburu settlement in an idyllic setting between the towering walls of Mount Nyiru and Ol Dionya Mara, lends a verdant quality (hot though it may be) to all who visit by foot from the desiccated lands beyond its ramparts. It is therefore, with much foreboding, that you resolve to leave this Garden of Eden, fed as it is by one of the few perennial mountain streams to be found in Northern Kenya. All the more so when your planned trek is to cross the Koroli desert en route to Mount Marsabit 120 km to the east.

Taking one last glance at what you are leaving behind, you follow the camels as they forge their way along a dirt track out of town, the mountain flanks, decked in Eucalyptus and Juniper, falling away on either side with each advancing mile. Gone is the sound of the babbling stream, now just the intermittent rustle from the trees above as baboons appear to shadow your progress, emitting loud reverberating howls every now and again (perhaps they are displaying their amusement at your proposed enterprise?)

Finally the baboons are left behind in their mountain fastness and you find yourself in open country. Turning to the east you follow a track which is eventually dissected by a large dry river course. At this point you branch off and follow the course in a north easterly direction, on and on as it meanders initially through a landscape of thorn scrub (the Korante Plain) and then finally out into the desert.

The banks on either side of your adopted roadway are layered in lush vegetation. Its deep roots still drawing on the moisture left many months previous when it acted as the conduit for water rushing down from the slopes of the N'doto Mountains to the south. This occurrence happening only once a year during the 'long rains', when it would take the form of quite a formidable river, but then only for a very short spell, perhaps only a few weeks before starting to diminish. These waters eventually drain into the desert and evaporate, leaving large stumps of dried tussock grass to mark out its final resting place. Much of the vegetation however, that line its banks is perennial and supports a whole host of fauna. You become aware of this by the constant chatter of birds and by the miniature gazelle (dik diks) that intermittently jump out in your path looking startled before scurrying away to find fresh cover. Small monkeys too join in this fun, performing acrobatics from the high limbs of the trees. Continuing along your way, all this activity gives the impression that all around you are surrounded by a green fertile country. You realise this is not the case when finally the river course peters out, and you are left surveying endless plains of stumbling cracked earth and dried tussock, with flat horizons in either direction. Only the distant peaks (mere pin pricks) of Mount Nyiru and Mount Marsabit giving evidence that you are now half way between where you set out from and your final destination. Now the hard slog begins.

Initially the camels find it difficult to manoeuvre, their soft padded feet becoming jammed in crevasses created between the dried stumps of tussock. Finally, after much heavy coaxing in the stifling midday heat, you manage to negotiate a course out of this minefield onto a slightly more camel friendly surface of cracked earth, eventually giving way to sand. The camels now in their element put on quite a pace, requiring much effort to keep up with them in the intense heat with Mount Marsabit looming larger and larger as the days role by.

Eventually the foothills of the mountain become apparent, as do signs of civilisation when you encounter large herds of camels heading out to graze, wooden bells tied around their necks cling clanging their merry tune as they file past. With an air of disdain they look down on your now dilapidated beasts. You are in Rendille territory. These nomadic people, akin to the Samburu in custom but not language, are the proud owners of vast camel herds whose grazing lands stretch as far away as Makiona to the north and the Losai mountains to the south. Though not exclusive to the Rendille, Mount Marsabit represents their main stronghold.

Impressive volcanic cones surround the mist shrouded mountain like sentinels posted on guard duty. With thoughts of entering a magical kingdom you breach their defences and start a long steady climb up toward the mist belt. Immediately the air becomes fresh as vegetation sprouts up in infinite variety and colour. You soon find yourself deep in rain forest, creepers strung across your path, with a dense canopy of green blanking out the sun. Beyond this, the omnipresent mist, then finally out into the open. Here a dirt track winds its way past cultivated fields and pasture, its steady ascent eventually leading you toward the hustle bustle of Marsabit town, a sizeable community perched high up on the mountain just below its main summit. Your journey's end.