As I trudged out of my Fulham flat on a sunny autumnal afternoon, I felt remarkably unfazed at the prospect of cycling round Kenya. Got the kit, got the jabs, got the passport, got the Lariam - all appeared to be in good shape!

At Heathrow, Gordon Fox, our UK organizer, sporting his canary yellow T-shirt, was easily identifiable at check-in. He looked slightly out of place until I noticed a file of garish shirts pushing large cardboard boxes (which housed the bikes) in the queue.

My eyes felt gritty and my limbs ached after a disastrous sleep on the plane. We were greeted at the airport by our guides, Chris and Janine Angell, whose team of Kenyan helpers steered us toward our transportation bound for the Landmark Hotel. En route, one of the bikes fell off the rack - not a good start!

Showered and breakfasted, Chris delivered the brief which listed the perils that lay ahead (potholes, dehydration, dopey drivers, etc.,). We then left for Limuru, perched on the edge of the Great Rift Valley at 7,500 feet.

And we were off! Five minutes later, the floor fell away, revealing the Valley. We flew down tarmac roads vying for space with lorries puffing clouds of exhaust fumes. Luckily, I had packed my smog mask!

We regrouped for lunch under a magnificent candelabra tree while passing juggernauts honked their horns in amusement. We cycled on a sandy track past the dormant volcano, Mount Longonot - cycling in heavy sand is an acquired skill and two cyclists wiped out.

We were rewarded by sightings of giraffe, zebra, gazelle and hartebeest. Skirting a brooding thundercloud, we rejoined the road for a 10km straight to our campsite, Fisherman's Camp, on Lake Naivasha's shores.