The morning sun is rising over the Kenyan bush. The air is still and cool as we make our way across the open plains. We’re at Borana Lodge, scouting for a sighting.
We’re tracking one of Africa’s last great giants on foot when suddenly, on the crest of the hill ahead of us, a rhino and its baby appear, nonchalantly enjoying breakfast. It’s truly breathtaking being so close to such a beast, miraculously one of dozens within Borana’s borders.
Borana Conservancy’s 28,000 privately-protected acres lie at the heart of Kenya’s Greater Mukogodo landscape, a landscape facing increased pressure from climate change, loss of biodiversity and fragmentation. In an area where conservation is both urgent and triumphant, the conservancy has served as a stronghold for endangered East African black rhinos since they were first introduced here in 2013.
Borana hasn’t seen a single poaching incident in 11 years and, together with neighbouring Lewa Conservancy, has been instrumental in the recovery of Kenya’s rhino population. Their movements are painstakingly tracked by an expert team of rangers, with each animal numbered and every sighting logged – and the black rhino is just one of the endangered species thriving under their guardianship. In Borana’s operations room, 26-year-old radio operator Elizabeth Wang’iko Kimaru walks us through the real-time software platform (EarthRanger) that the conservancy uses to monitor and protect its wildlife 24/7.
The Lodge
After an evening game drive at Borana Lodge, roaring fires welcome guests to the lounge to warm up while cocktails are served from a rose-wood bar, before moving to a hearty supper in a candlelit dining room adorned with a handprinted mural of the landscape. The lodge was founded by third-generation Kenyans Michael and Nicky Dyer and is designed around the main house, built entirely with sustainable materials by local craftsmen. One of the original eco-lodges in Northern Kenya, it’s been welcoming guests since 1993.
Six guest cottages step down the hillside, each with sweeping views of the landscape, private verandas for quiet moments and cosy touches to elevate the safari experience. Returning to my room after dinner, I found a fire crackling in the grate and a hot water bottle in my bed, while the pre-dawn alarm call is accompanied with a steaming pot of coffee and freshly baked biscuits. Twenty four per cent of the guest rate from every booking goes straight back into the conservancy. With the safari industry in sub-Saharan Africa currently worth some $22 billion – and predicted to hit $60 billion by 2030 – it’s astonishing to think of what could be achieved if every lodge in Kenya did the same.
The Game Drives
Within minutes of setting out on a morning game drive with head guide Lawrence Ngugi, we encounter a herd of elephants just beyond the lodge – an awe-inspiring spectacle for any first-time visitor, yet one that soon reveals itself as part of everyday life at Borana, home to an exceptionally thriving elephant population. The radio crackles into life with word of a lion confrontation, and Lawrence wastes no time navigating us across the conservancy. We arrive just as three resident males chase away a rival trio from nearby Mount Kenya, their deep territorial roars echoing across the plains as they pass mere inches from our jeep in a moment both thrilling and humbling.
That afternoon, we leave the stables on horseback, setting out across the open plains toward a secret camp hidden deep within the reserve, where a night under canvas awaits. The rhythm of hooves settles into a gentle cadence as we ride past yet another herd of grazing elephants, the snow-dusted Mount Kenya rising behind them. The camp reveals itself slowly: a fire crackling in a forest clearing; lanterns flickering beneath the trees; a bar laid out for sundowners; the scent of dinner drifting from the coals. As darkness falls, the bush hums with life. Cradling a nightcap of Amarula beneath a sky thick with stars, we are sung into sleep by the lodge’s Maasai team, their voices carrying softly through the night air. Morning arrives quietly after an undisturbed night. Sunlight filters through the canopy onto a breakfast table set among the trees and filled with bowls of homemade granola plus freshly cooked sausages and eggs, before we saddle up once more for the ride home.
It’s hard to believe you can traverse Borana’s vast open savannahs with not a soul in sight, but such precious solitude is fleeting in some areas of Kenya, with the pressure from overtourism on already delicate ecosystems. The Serengeti-Mara may be the ultimate bucket-list tick to witness the Great Migration, but 2025 saw record numbers of visitors result in overcrowding and traffic congestion, with frankly haunting images of dozens of vehicles clamouring for space around peak moments. A far cry from the vision of witnessing nature’s greatest spectacle as it was intended.
At Borana, only four guest vehicles are permitted out on game drives at any one time; you’ll likely not meet another during your drive. Last year, a constitutional petition was filed in Kenya challenging the development of a new luxury safari camp, raising concerns around potential impacts and ancient migratory corridors. Wildlife vet Dr. Chloe Buiting has been sharing the journey with her 380k followers and highlighting the impact of the development on its environment.“In many respects, it’s highlighted broader structural challenges in how development decisions are made in ecologically sensitive landscapes,” she says.
The Conservancy
Borana has operated as a not-for-profit entity, Borana Conservancy Limited, since 2010, with the long-term mission of safeguarding its wilderness. In 2025, the Conservancy published a ten-year strategy outlining an ambitious vision to strengthen wildlife conservation, support community livelihoods, and ensure financial sustainability while protecting one of Kenya’s most important ecosystems. The strategy focuses on restoring and safeguarding biodiversity – particularly endangered species – through enhanced land management, habitat restoration, and science-based conservation practices. Partnerships with neighbouring communities play a central role, expanding access to education, employment, and locally led development opportunities, ensuring that conservation delivers meaningful social and economic benefits. Alongside ecological and community priorities, the plan emphasises financial resilience through diversified revenue streams, including tourism, philanthropy, and conservation enterprises, reducing reliance on any single source of funding. Ultimately, it seeks to position Borana as a globally recognised model for integrated conservation – one that balances ecological protection with sustainable human development for the shared benefit of wildlife and local communities.
At the heart of the conservancy stands a community centre that was once a wool shed. Michael Dyer’s grandfather originally built his business here around merino sheep and Angora goats, exporting wool to Bradford until the collapse of the UK wool industry reshaped his focus. Today, the building has taken on a new purpose as the hub of Borana’s community programmes. Now known as Mazingira Yetu – “Our Environment” – the centre welcomes local school children through its education initiatives and hosts first-responder training courses for community medics, as well as hosting local Maasai women to teach their traditional beading to guests.
Supporting 10 neighbouring schools, it introduces students to conservation, sustainable farming, and practical skills through the conservancy’s own vegetable farm, which supplies produce to participating schools while teaching techniques for maintaining their own kitchen gardens. Borana’s breakfast club programme provides over 4,200 meals every day to local children, while students from four nearby secondary schools benefit from an ongoing mentorship initiative. The impact extends well beyond the classroom: through guest contributions to community programmes, Borana has funded full college or university scholarships for 53 students and supports the salaries of twelve local teachers. The result is an extraordinary example of conservation and community development working hand in hand – a mutually reinforcing relationship in which local communities have become the eyes and ears of the conservancy, playing a vital role in protecting its wildlife and natural heritage.
Trundling across the conservancy, we arrive at Waitabit Farm, an 85-acre plot producing around a tonne of food for the lodge each month. It emerges like a mirage of effervescent green among the parched landscape. While the rest of the conservancy is craving rain after a long dry season, the farm’s home next to the river maintains its flourishing greenery. Under the management of Llewelyn Dyer, Michael and Nicky’s son, it’s a thriving enterprise, not just producing fruit and vegetables but a testing ground for practices before they’re use in the conservancy, such as regenerative grazing of cattle. His passion and speciality in ecological regeneration is water, and his introduction of the My Tank project is aiming to improve livelihoods by providing clean, reliable water to 450 households in Meru County with the installation of tanks to harvest rainfall. With over 200 installed so far, it’s already making an impact in the local community.
In a world where wilderness is becoming increasingly fragile, Borana Conservancy stands as a powerful reminder that conservation is a living, breathing collaboration between land, wildlife, and community. It offers more than just hope for Kenya’s wildlife, but a blueprint for how tourism, when guided by purpose, can help safeguard the wild places that still remain.
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