Kurt had been based in Nairobi for a few years working as a pilot for Flying Doctors. He was an interesting guy with stories of blown tires and forced landings on bush strips. It was exciting work, he said. He flew medical evacuations, airlifting people to Nairobi hospital from remote areas to treat snake bite victims who didn’t respond to anti-venom, hook patients to intravenous fluids and inject the wounded with painkillers during evacuation flights to Nairobi.

He asked if I wanted to come along on his next run up to Kora National Park to deliver supplies.

“The park is in some tough country,” he said, “up in the North Frontier. The land out there is dry and tinged with rust.”

He described a terrain of sparse bush and thorn trees, so hot at midday nothing stirred.  

Kurt had an empty seat on his plane one weekend and invited me to come along. We had driven to Wilson Airport in his jeep and loaded the supplies he was flying to Kora. Before the small plane took off, I strapped myself into the cramped passenger seat. 

The back seats of the plane were stacked with boxes of medical supplies, tinned goods, meat, sacks of potatoes, vegetables and two bottles of Whitehorse. Whisky was the main staple for survival in the isolated region. As we flew over Nairobi National Park, the shadow of our plane passed over a lone giraffe.

I studied the route we were taking on the map, which indicated we were heading north-east toward the equator. During the flight, headwinds shook the plane and bright fingers of sunlight reflected off the cockpit. The plane tilted to the right as Kurt brought us higher to fly above the clouds. As the plane dipped into hot air pockets over desolate country, I started to feel nauseous and dozed off.       

When I awoke, Kora lay below us. As we flew over the Tana river, I looked down and had a good feeling for making the trip. My mood expanded in the open country. I thought how beautiful it was where people didn’t live and animals could go about free in the wild. Picture living this way, I thought. You build a bamboo hut in the bush, let your hair grow long, don’t bother shaving, own just two pairs of khaki shorts and wear rubber thongs on your feet. You plant a small garden, tend your animals, fish, hike and read books. Time is yours to do what you want.