Off the Clock

We live in a time that rewards effort. People are running marathons, joining week-long surf camps and yoga retreats — all chasing the same thing: a moment when the world goes quiet. That silence, it turns out, has an address. Stand on the Oloololo Escarpment at Angama Mara and look down at the Maasai Mara below, animals reduced to dots on a horizon that seems to stretch forever.

I work for Angama in social media, which usually means I'm on the other side of this, telling the stories rather than living them. A recent shoot gave me the chance to immerse myself in these experiences.

The refurbished gym came first. My old kickboxing combinations came back on the punching bag, and then I settled into the rowing machine as the sun rose and dew dripped from the trees. Every machine faces the Mara, so it's easy to get lost in your workout.

The Shamba is hands down one of my favourite places. Growing up, my grandmother would take me through her garden and into her greenhouse, so when the Shamba Keepers led us down the winding path, I felt nostalgic as we picked herbs and pulled carrots from the earth. A call came from the kitchen — they needed a basket of lettuce, herbs and spring onions for lunch. There's something grounding about knowing the distance from soil to plate is just a short walk away.

Askari Bernard, from the Angama Running Club, sets the pace you actually want to run, not the pace you'd promise yourself on a good day. We followed a dirt road through open bush, with zebra and giraffe registering our presence and not particularly caring. Those are five kilometres I will probably claim for years.

A few puddles and muddy trails meant I left my running shoes outside my Tented Suite that evening. They came back the next morning looking brand new — the Laundry Team are wizards.

Images of the Yoga Deck had arrived in my inbox long before I saw it in person. Angama's photographers had sent through images of Maasai warriors practising yoga with a guest, an experience no brief could have planned. Standing there myself, I understood what all the fuss was about. It is a space that makes you want to move... or be completely still.

Alita, my manager, chose to move, settling into a vinyasa while I slipped into the pool. What stopped me mid-stroke was watching two weather systems at once: a wall of rain rolling in from the far side of the Mara while I was still swimming in full sun. Alita held her warrior pose while I forgot to move at all.

Then there was the Beading Studio. I was working on something for the office when the Mamas began to sing. Their voices filled the space, and I had goosebumps before I'd even registered what was happening.

It is contentment, I think, that the wellness world keeps promising, and Angama Mara has achieved it simply by being. Walking to and from your Tented Suite, listening to gravel crunch beneath your feet, is therapeutic. Waking to hot-air balloons drifting in the distance feels so magical that you feel obliged to stay in bed, tea and Kenyan biscuits in hand, simply watching.

And then there is the bathtub. I will not over-explain the bathtub, but just know that you will find yourself thinking about it on an ordinary Tuesday, and you will be right to.

The world keeps chasing the feeling that wellness creates. Angama Mara simply has it.