Peter and Ian make our passage through the immigration process as smooth and efficient as possible. Three hundred people arriving at once does make the need to queue inevitable, but the process isn’t in any way a painful one, apart from having to hand over fifty dollars for the privilege.

The airport is both modern and busy, even in the early evening. The temperature is high, but being at almost 6,000 feet takes some of the edge off that equatorial heat. It’s always gratifying to see a familiar suitcase pop out onto the belt, with a transfer in the middle of the journey, one never knows whether your bag has transferred with you until this final moment.

Peter leads us out into the arrivals area and quickly spots one of our drivers standing off to one side where he knows he will be seen without getting in the way of maybe fifty other drivers all trying to get their little name boards seen and read. As a fairly cohesive group, we are led through the darkness to where our vehicles wait for us.

There’s not much to see on the drive from the airport in the darkness. Highways are just strips of concrete and tarmac. The lights of the centre of the city and its many high-rise buildings are apparent in the distance, but our path takes us along the southern bypass and towards the more suburban district of Langata.

Leaving the main road and turning onto a dusty side street we eventually arrive at a solid-looking steel gate. A beep of the horn from the first vehicle in our convoy sees the gate opening and our arrival at our first hotel.

I really wasn’t sure what to expect from the outside, but this is a pleasant surprise. Behind the gate and wall is a tranquil oasis. There’s a large main building that clearly houses a dining room and the reception desk. Beyond are a series of small, yet delightful chalets, each of which is a self-contained twin room. Everything is surrounded by flowering plants and shaded by tall trees.

Our porter quickly shows us around the room, not that there is really much to have explained. He quickly shows us how to lower the mosquito nets around the beds and hands the key to Brian. I’d almost failed to notice that he was right behind me, he moved along so quietly.

“Do you have a preference for which bed, Brian,” I ask him once we are alone.

“No, not really. I’ll just take this one,” he replies pointing to the one he is standing closest to. “Is it okay for me to use the bathroom first?”

“Of course.” He quickly unpacks what is presumably a toiletry bag, heads into the bathroom and closes the door behind himself. I don’t feel the need to unpack, even though we are here for two nights. Honestly, I never really do unpack completely. I just feel that it takes too much time out of the day, especially when we are going to be moving around a lot. I open my suitcase flat on one of the provided low benches and leave it at that.

There’s also a small desk with a simple wooden chair, so I take my laptop out and power it up. The wi-fi password is clearly printed on the front of the neatly presented welcome pack on the side of the desk and I’m quickly online. As expected, the connection is pretty poor, but sufficient for me to check my email properly and fire off a couple of quick messages to confirm our safe arrival. I can’t resist the urge to check on the office, but there’s nothing that might need my attention on the project management system.

Brian comes out of the bathroom with most of his clothes under one arm and his towel still in the other. Dressed only in a pair of shorts, he’s a pretty impressive sight. He is well-toned and just on the muscular side, yet still clearly lithe and athletic. I try my best to avert my gaze as he drops his clothes onto his case and finishes towelling his hair dry.

“The shower’s better than I expected,” he mumbles from under the towel. “Water is hot and the pressure is pretty good.”

“Well, I guess we’re doing pretty well then. The wi-fi is acceptable too.”

“Yeah? I wonder if this is what we can expect for the rest of the trip?”

“Who knows? Of course, Peter and Ian obviously do. I guess we’re paying enough to have some pretty good accommodation for the whole trip really.”

As Brian turns his back to me, rummaging in his now open suitcase for something, I notice the roughly puckered scar high on his right shoulder. I’m clearly not an expert, but it looks suspiciously like a bullet wound. It doesn’t seem to affect his range of motion in any meaningful way, but it looks uncomfortable. Whatever, I shouldn’t be staring at him anyway. I grab my toiletries and a clean pair of boxers and head into the bathroom.

The shower really is very good, even if the tiling of the stall leaves a little to be desired. I brush my teeth thoroughly, remembering to use the bottle of water provided. Clean boxers feel crisp and cool, but I feel that I need to be a little more modest than Brian and slip my t-shirt back on as well before stepping out of the bathroom.

Brian is already in his bed, sitting up with a couple of pillows behind his back, reading a magazine. His was the bed with the nets lowered to show us how, so it takes me a minute to figure out the mechanism and lower my set as well. There’s some sort of draw-string rather like a set of window blinds, but how to lock and unlock it eludes me for a moment. It’s all in the angle that you pull it at, apparently. Taking full advantage of the fact that we have mains power, I ensure that my phone and laptop are both on charge and close the laptop lid.

There’s no air-conditioning in the chalet, and the heat is still a little more than I would say I’m used to. I know we’re at a considerable altitude and I’m grateful that this is moderating the equatorial heat somewhat. I manage to get myself inside the protection of the nets and flop down onto the bed with a sigh. It’s firm but seems pretty comfortable. “It seems far too early for bed,” I mutter, more to myself than to Brian.

“Yes, but we are supposed to be at breakfast at 6:30 and we had an early morning today. Don’t forget the three-hour time difference. There’s a reason for our fairly slow start tomorrow. It should help us get into the new rhythm quickly.”

“You’ve done this sort of thing before?”

“Dealt with jet-lag? Yes, several times and involving many more times zones than this. The more sleep you can get at the start, the easier it will be. It will take a day or two to get back to being comfortable no matter what, but no point in making it difficult for yourself.”

I quickly decide that I cannot get comfortable for sleep just lying on the top of the bed and opt for rolling the blanket back to the foot of the bed and covering myself with just the sheet. Brian switches off the lights a couple of minutes later and at some point, I drift off into a dreamless sleep.

I feel that I must have been woken up by a sound or movement, but I can’t tell for sure. The first light of dawn is breaking through the thin curtains and the room still retains a little of the heat of the previous day. I roll over slowly and take in my unfamiliar surroundings. The bed beside mine is empty. Brian is sitting in the armchair by the window, still in his boxers, thumbing through his phone.

“Morning,” I manage as I swing up to a sitting position.

“Morning. I hope I didn’t disturb you?”

“No, I don’t think so. What time is it?”

“Just after six. Plenty of time to get ready for breakfast.”

“Hmm. I’m not really a breakfast person, but I’d better make an appearance.”

“I would. I’m not sure that we’ll get a great lunch. Packed lunches most days, as I understand it, so breakfast may be your best chance to fuel up.”

“Have you experienced safari packed lunches, then?”

“No, but I’ve learned to take food when it is offered, in case you don’t have the chance to eat later,” he tells me somewhat enigmatically.

It takes me only a few minutes to get myself organised. I’ve always been clean-shaven, even if I don’t mind beards on others. Getting the razor out every morning has just become part of the everyday routine that seems almost automatic. Different here is only the need to remember to use the bottled water when brushing my teeth.

Anticipating the heat, I pick a pair of knee-length dark-green shorts and a thin, light tan cotton button-up short-sleeve shirt. Rummaging through my suitcase, I dig out my floppy hat in anticipation of the need for extra sun protection. 

I might not be exactly blond, but my hair is at least very light brown and my eyes are blue-grey. I’ve brought factor 30 and factor 50 sunscreen with me and, for a first day, I opt for factor 30. Let’s see how it goes and upgrade if I need it.

By the time I get out of the bathroom, Brian has gone, presumably off to find the dining room. I grab the key and lock the room behind me, heading out into the lodge grounds for the first time in daylight.

The laid stone path is uneven and feels overgrown because of the dense planting on both sides. Everything is green and splashed with a riot of colours from various flowering plants that I have no hope of identifying. Then, there are the birds. Everywhere I look there seem to be little birds moving through the undergrowth or perched on branches and twigs overhead.

I might have spent a few hours over the past week studying the illustrations in my new bird book, but I still honestly have very little hope of actually identifying many of the ones I can see here. The book detailed more than 1300 species and even narrowing it down to a family might be more than my current skill level will allow.

Still, the ones walking on the ground in front of me as the path widens out into an open patio are clearly a pigeon or dove of some sort and the tiny flash of blue, purple and yellow in the branches to my left is a sunbird of one sort or another. I’ll need to get some photos later and then study them at my leisure. If all else fails, I can always ask Geoff or Tim what they are.

Something quite large and vaguely green flies overhead as I try and get a better view of the now stationary sunbird and I feel that it might be an ibis of some sort when it calls loudly “Ha-Da-Da-Da. Ha-Da-Da”.

“You get used to the sound,” Tim tells me as he approaches from another overgrown path. “It’s another Hadada Ibis – I’m afraid that bird names are usually pretty descriptive.”

“I’d got as far as thinking it was an ibis – the beak gives it away, I think, but I’ve never really been that interested. Someone on one of the travel forums suggested that birds were a good stop-gap when the lions aren’t visible.”

“It’s a good way to start. You’ll soon be hooked.”

“Maybe. Some of the colours I’ve seen already are enticing. I’ll take pictures and maybe try and identify when I get home.”

“Yeah. Don’t assume that we make on-the-spot calls. Sometimes the driver or guide will, but even then, we are prepared to question it without a photo to make a formal identification,” Tim continues. “Geoff and I are going to compare notes before dinner each day. You’re welcome to join in if you want to. We’ll both be happy to help with identification if you need it.”

“Thanks Tim, I might just do that sometimes. Depends on what else we see really.”

“Yes, of course. Not all bird-watchers are totally obsessive. I’m here for the wildlife just as much as anyone else. Otherwise I’d be on a specialist trip.”

A couple of the doves take the opportunity to alight on the ground just a few metres away from us at this point, causing me to turn around and study them once more. There’s a very clearly-defined black collar on each of the pair.

“Ring-necked Dove,” Tim tells me before I can ask. “And the little one you were looking at was a male Variable Sunbird.”

“And how variable are they?”

“Actually, not very much at all. Just a variable amount of purple over yellow belly. I did say that bird names are very literal, but this is one of those ‘we ran out of names’ cases.”

We’ve started moving along now and are slowly making our way to the main building at the centre of the compound. Tom and Amanda are also approaching from yet another overgrown footpath, causing us all to converge on the doors at about the same time with a flurry of greetings.

Our group are the only guests – not surprising as we apparently take all the available rooms between us. The dining room has been arranged into tables based on our vehicle groups. Ian is fussing around, making sure that everybody knows where they are sitting. At one side of the room is a broad buffet with a range of fruit, cereals, yoghurt and a number of covered serving dishes. At the far end of the buffet, a young man in kitchen whites is tending a small burner with a frying pan, ready to take orders for eggs however you like them.

Apparently, I’m hungrier that I thought and manage two-and-a-half courses. The bananas and mangoes are a revelation. I seldom eat bananas at home. They are always either under- or over-ripe after a long boat-ride across the Atlantic. Mangoes often suffer from a similar problem. Here, they are picked at near perfect ripeness and the taste is night and day different.

The sausages and bacon are acceptable, but I wouldn’t go out of my way in the future. There are one or two local options that I’m honestly not sure about, but a freshly cooked omelette is a real highlight. Finishing with a couple of slices of toast and marmalade leaves me better fed than I normally ever am in the mornings.

By the time everyone is on their final coffee or tea and I’m on my second glass of pineapple juice, the best part of an hour has flown by.

“Okay, everybody,” Peter calls as he stands by the door. “If we can be ready to go for the day in half an hour, that will be great. Meet in the car park in thirty minutes.”