The final day of trekking sees Roger Lever and his companions visit a Maasai village, enjoy the wildlife of Lake Magadi and finally indulge in some much-needed creature comforts.

The next day, we were up before sunrise to begin our trek, which would take us to one of the local Maasai encampments. Our arrival heralded yet another unforgettable welcome: about a dozen women singing and chanting in traditional greeting.

We were invited into one of their simple homes, built with sticks and cow dung and surrounded by a protective, circular fence of roughly cut acacia branches.
 
Before we left we were persuaded to join in the traditional dancing - our complete lack of rhythm created hoots of laughter from the women and little children watching us.

The Massai region is peppered with volcanoes, now mostly inactive. But Oldoinyo Lengai (the Mountain of the Gods) is one exception. This majestic mountain towers above the others and remains active. Through my binoculars I could see solidified larva on the summit.

Our trek was taking us nearer and nearer to the escarpment of the Rift Valley and the highlands of the Ngarongoro Crater. This sunken crater, 600 metres deep, has created a natural amphitheatre and complete enclosed ecosystem with a central soda lake.

Later, we drove to Lake Magadi, a peaceful wildlife paradise. It was the stuff of every nature lover’s dreams. We were amazingly close to zebra, gazelle, wildebeest, ostrich, lion and elephants.

Our final night was spent in bush land luxury. Dusty camps under the stars were just warm, enchanting memory as we arrived at the exquisite Maasai village hotel. There were four-poster beds and the fabulous, invigorating showers. The food was fantastic and we talked well into the night. None of us wanted this fascinating, captivating glimpse into the world of the Maasai people and their land to come to an end.

But after 101,003 steps (according to my pedometer) and 50 toilet rolls, it was time to head home.

Roger Lever sweats his way through the African bush in soaring tempratures guided by Maasai warriors with some surprising football allegiances in his latest post.

Dawn broke with a spectacular display of colour over Mount Longido and our slumbering party. Camp consisted of 14 two-man tents, two loo tents and an ingenious shower tent that housed a large suspended drum full of water. It was a little like one of those Japanese water torture ideas except in this case it wasn’t ice cold but pleasantly warm. A perfect start to the day.

Following a hearty breakfast we boarded the bus and were driven to what seemed like the middle of nowhere to begin our day’s trek.

By late morning the temperature was well into the upper 30s and we were feeling the full blast of the African sun. After a couple of hours walking the dust from our arid surroundings was covering every part of our un-acclimatised fair skins, broken only by little trails of sweat trickling from pores we didn’t even know existed.

Lunch was a very welcome break. We tried to take advantage of some semblance of shade under an acacia tree. But its benefits were soon dwarfed by an explosion of Arsenal umbrellas that shot up among our guides, transforming our gathering into a most surreal sight. No guessing which team these Maasai warriors supported then.

The afternoon trek was even more challenging with temperatures soaring to over 40 degrees.

When we eventually arrived at our destination we found our crew, who had been well ahead of us, had already set up camp. We felt Christmas had come early. Lights out about 9.30 pm and there wasn’t a peep out of any of us.

It's a first day in the bush as Roger Lever and his band of trekkers are driven out of Nairobi and get a taste of the trials ahead, plus meet their Maasai guides for the first time.

After an early breakfast we took a bus through the outskirts of Nairobi. I gazed sleepily out of the window as streets lined with cluttered, untidy and tired looking businesses yielded to large expanses of fenced, dried out grassland, which in turn blended into vast open plains.

The bus slowed to a stop and we stepped down on to the red dusty track for a ‘taster trek’, a short hike to our first campsite and our Maasai guides. We were now in remote bush land. It was harsh, arid and inhospitable. The temperature was well over 30 degrees and we were feeling it.

We arrived at camp looking and feeling somewhat dishevelled, covered in dust from the dry track. Hot and thirsty we welcomed large glasses of orange and mango juice and gulped them down.

After lunch our little band was taken back into the bush for a lesson in survival with one of our Maasai guides, Moname.

We were back in camp by early evening. As we sat relaxing, out of nowhere, from just beyond a group of acacia trees, there appeared at first one or two and then before long a whole group of Maasai men, women and children.

They settled down quietly and spread out colourful blankets upon which they displayed their hand-made jewellery, exquisitely crafted in tiny coloured beads. After striking a hard bargain they vanished, as silently and suddenly as they had appeared.

By the end of day one in the bush, most of us had managed to dispense with any of our remaining airs and graces. Around the campfire that evening, we sat and talked with our Maasai guides. The sky above was pitch black, and what seemed like millions of tiny stars were visible beside the inverted crescent moon of the southern hemisphere.

Having barely had time to settle into their hotel Roger Lever and his companions are bused to the KENWA (Kenya Network of Women with Aids) offices in Pangani, and then to visit an ActionAid project in Kiandutu slum on the outskirts of Nairobi.

We arrived still weary and registering a certain disbelief that we were actually here – but a colourful singing, dancing throng of locals waiting to welcome us instantly knocked us out of our restful weariness.

There were women, children and youth groups and before we knew it we were in the thick of it all. Their warmth and brightness was incredible. An unforgettable experience.

Tiny hands found ours and held them tightly as we were led slowly through the village. Occasionally their owners would look up and smile trustingly, eager to show us around.

Mostly orphans whose parents had died from AIDS, many were themselves HIV positive. But like kids anywhere, they were bright-eyed, bubbly and full of mischief - excited by this curious bunch of red t-shirted people.

Some pushed themselves forward to be photographed. Others stood back and watched us from a distance, often holding a smaller child close to them, their eyes conveying some deep sorrow or pain. Holding their gaze for only a few seconds left me with a sense of heaviness which will never leave me.

Later we saw for ourselves the work of the ActionAid-funded drop-in centre, providing support for those living with HIV and AIDS.

The very sick were cared for within the community. Too weak to move they lay uncomplaining, awaiting their untimely death. A few of us had the privilege of meeting these quietly courageous people. With no language between us they just smiled and offered their hand in trust and friendship. One young woman lay with her baby safely cradled in her arms. We left quietly, allowing their care to continue unobserved.

Our visit over we piled into our bus, overwhelmed by the mix of brightness, fun and the deep sadness which had drawn these people together.

Roger Lever came face-to-face with Maasai warriors when the ancient tribe acted as guides on his fundraising trek through the the Rift Valley. Over 5 days the 56-year-old and his 26 companions hiked approximately 90km, camped near the tribe’s villages, visited an ActionAid project that works with people living with HIV & AIDS and raised more than £50,000 to help fight poverty in the developing world.

I gazed with a sinking feeling in my stomach at the growing pile of things I had to take. My eyes moved down from the bed, and my strewn kit, to the smallish looking rucksack waiting to be packed. My son, conveniently dismissing the fact that his old man was about to undertake an unforgettable trek into the African bush, had nabbed the bigger rucksack the week before.

The kit didn’t fit. My wife, and packing expert, Judy had earlier sneaked off to bed, leaving me alone to deal with my packing dilemma. I tried again.

When the clock rang it felt like I had only been asleep for about 5 minutes. It was time to leave the comforts of our old home in Dumfries and Galloway and head first to London and then on to Africa.

Clad in a mandatory bright red ActionAid T-shirt and feeling somewhat conspicuous I met my fellow trekkers at Heathrow Terminal 4. We were like a bunch of primary children - twenty-six of us gathered together, some a little nervous, some a little shy but very quickly all chatting away.

All of us, hailing from the length and breadth of this easy land, had spent the last year fundraising for ActionAid in exchange for the chance to follow in the footsteps of the Maasai.

The eight-hour flight passed quickly as I was lucky enough to get a lesson in Swahili! Dawn broke as we approached Nairobi and the horizon started to change colour through yellow, orange and crimson.