I  think for every person at RVA there came a time and an event that would have to be classified as a 'Rite of Passage': The unsupervised journey to Longonot.

My journey started weeks before. Our little group started planning. Everything was meticulously planned. Our route to and from was discussed and interviews with former adventurers and their routes studied. We decided on the train tracks and set the date. Next came to systematic hoarding of food, most of which was spirited out the back of the kitchen using complex diversionary tactics to distract the staff.

Then the unthinkable happened. News of another group attempting the feat on the same day! Our efforts doubled. A race mentality started. We would be first to the top!. A flag was made, we all signed it. Bags were packed. We huddled together on the eve, to excited to sleep.

At 330am we were ready and headed out, full of spirit, laughing and joking. The others had taken the floor route, too bad for them. After dodging the many trains, we got lost in Longonot's ravines and finally reached the top at 3pm. We looked back at RVA and each wished to be there. We could see the other group heading back way way in the distance. and we abandoned the train tracks and headed back straight across country.

We walked thought herds of giraffe, zebra and antelope. Someone found Lion tracks and we all ran pell mell for 10 minutes before collapsing exhausted, laughing hysterically when we realized that none of us knew what a lion track looked like. We spent 20 minutes trying to flog a ride and slowly trudged back as the sun slide down below the horizon.

We made it, we left boys and came back men, at least in our minds. We had made it!

Over the years I did a lot of hiking around RVA but that journey stands out firm in my memories, our small band of little men.

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