The predicted rare northwesterly winds represent a unusual wind situation. Already yesterday we faced very northerly current and so I try to make the best out of it and plan to circle out the southerly upper ends of the Kerio valley - northwesterly winds should play into my favor. As I reach the southern end of the valley, I play a bit in the air over the hillside there and the people on the ground enjoy it of course, as there was probably never ( ? ) a paraglider seen before - at least it is not documented. Then I try to find thermals over the hilly landscape between the Kerio valley and the plains out around lake Baringo. At the beginning it works quite well. I should reach a mountain range between Kabarnet and lake Baringo, but fail to do so by a small difference in altitude. I have to land in a very remote side valley of a side valley of a side valley … The village people welcome me extremely friendly and heartily caring. They phone for a motorcyclist of another side valley to come and take me out. Other people from nearby location call them, if the parachute, who must have come down somewhere around their village is save and uninjured. I am very positive impressed about everything, especially of their knowledge and education, no matter if elderly people or kids. And over all their warm caring and friendliness. Then the motorcyclist appears and we discuss the best place, where he should take me to and the best way, he could use then and of course the price, he would ask for. Everything looks just fine for me, but then the ride begins. It is not like on an unpaved mountain road, it is even not like on a motocross track, it is like on a trial track - sometimes really over knee-high rocks, through small creeks a.s.o., but he seems to be a trial master driver. At a certain point his motorcycle does not want to carry us any more and he stops it, says, it needs 5 minutes rest, its just to much for it and we wait 5 minutes and then we go on. He drops me off at a take-off, where from the world records have been flown, but is late in the afternoon. I start and try to fly back to the north, but cannot overcome - guess what ? - of course the corner south of Chororget is the one, where I fail once more. This time I get so low, that I even do not reach the schoolyard, I already know so well and land somewhere on the street in the valley. The young motorcyclists discuss a lot, who had seen me first and who has got the right to bring me back up to my hotel on the ridge edge.