Three years ago, there were no southern white rhinos in Kenya’s Lewa-Borana Landscape. Now, there are 123 — and 141 critically endangered black rhinos.

It’s early morning in the Borana Conservancy, a wildlife reserve in central Kenya’s Laikipia Highlands. Nissa Kinyaga, the guide at the wheel of my safari vehicle, brings us to a halt at the bottom of a grass-covered slope where a group of rangers in army fatigues is waiting, Mount Kenya silhouetted on the horizon behind them. These three men are part of Borana’s rhino-tracking program and the lodge I’m staying at, Lengishu, has arranged for me to join them on their morning patrol.

However, it’s essential to understand the rhino conservation context. Three years ago, there were no southern white rhinos in this 32,000-acre reserve; today, there are more than 123 living between Borana and the adjacent Lewa Wildlife Conservancy, together with around 141 of the critically endangered black rhino. The Lewa-Borana Landscape is now home to more than 13 percent of Kenya’s rhino population — a fact that’s largely due to the dedicated efforts of the rangers standing before me and others involved in the conservation initiative.

As I step out of the vehicle, Richard Karmushu, the group’s lead tracker, lifts his binoculars to his eyes and cries, “There, black rhino!” Following his gaze, I see a female — Karmushu tells me she’s known as Linda — trotting at a surprising clip across the bush some 200 yards away, her two-year-old calf keeping pace at her side. “Rhinos have a very good sense of smell,” Karmushu says with a smile. “She caught wind of us and is running away.” Just as well, he adds: black rhinos can be aggressive, meaning humans should always keep a safe distance.

We walk on, spotting rhino tracks in the dust as we go. Karmushu explains how a system of ear-notching helps trackers monitor the health and whereabouts of the rhinos living on the reserve. Consequently, while the work can be dangerous (face-offs with poachers are rare, but not unheard of), the vast majority of the unit’s time is spent observing the creatures and their habitat from afar.

I’m fascinated by Karmushu’s stories of his work on the reserve, but after an hour or so of walking, I’m also starting to get hungry. A few minutes later, the tracker points to a grassy spot in the shade of a huge candelabra tree, where a team of chefs and servers from Lengishu lodge are preparing an elaborate bush breakfast at a table set with forest-green linens and brass tableware. Rarely have eggs Florentine and a cup of hot coffee been so welcome.

The morning’s blend of adventure and personalized luxury was typical of my stay at Lengishu, a lodge on the Borana Conservancy opened in 2019 by a British couple named Joe and Minnie MacHale. After breakfast, I headed back up to the lodge, which consists of low-slung buildings with traditional “makuti” thatched roofs, perched on a hill looking east over one of Borana’s spectacular, sweeping valleys. This inviting lodge sleeps 12 and features a high-ceilinged living area with fireplaces, deep sofas, and a grand dining table, making it perfect for large gatherings.

Minnie MacHale gives me a tour of the property, which she personally decorated in a style that exudes equal parts warmth and glamor. Pointing to a studded wooden chest in the entranceway, she shares its sentimental value, having been her dressing-up box as a child growing up in Scotland. The rugs in the bedrooms were made by a women’s collective from the nearby Meru community, illustrating the lodge’s commitment to local craftsmanship.

By now, the dry heat of the highlands is beginning to beat down, so I head for a swim in the pool — stopping to borrow one of Minnie’s stylish, wide-brimmed straw hats along the way. Weaver birds have built a colony of spherical nests in the acacia trees over the pool; resting on its infinity edge between laps, I spot a family of elephants trooping down to a drinking hole some 300 feet in the valley below.

Sufficiently cooled, I join Joe MacHale for a poolside glass of Tusker beer, where he recounts the story of how Lengishu came to be. “We built this first and foremost as a family home,” he explains — a space accommodating their four adult children and rapidly expanding brood of grandkids. “Minnie spent time in Kenya in her 20s and had always wanted to return.” This desire came to fruition when their eldest son, who had worked as a photographer in Kenya, learned about a plot of land for sale in Borana.

The MacHales are one of nine shareholders in the Borana Conservancy, meaning they support the costs of its operations and conservation efforts — including the anti-poaching program as well as impressive wildlife education initiatives, a mobile clinic, a water safety program, and a project aimed at improving the health of local cattle.

Their dedication is evident. On a game drive that afternoon, the reserve teems with wildlife. My guide and I spot two lionesses basking in the grass, more rhinos — this time white, asleep under a tree, a herd of the endangered Grevy’s zebra, countless elephants and giraffes, and, thrillingly, a pack of hyena cubs, which emerge from their burrow one by one and proceed to gambol around, rolling and play-fighting, as the dust around them is kicked up into the air and suspended in beams of evening sunlight. From helping protect some of Africa’s most powerful creatures that morning to observing these tiny, fragile animals at sundown, it felt as if Borana — and, more specifically, Lengishu — had delivered everything I could have hoped for from a safari, in just one day.

Getting There

East African Air Charters: Operates private, direct flights to Borana Conservancy, with an airstrip just a 15-minute drive from Lengishu.