2018 - Big Red Pigs in Kenya

[Osadabwa]

Before long we found a junction with decent facilities. It was at the gate to a military base, so there was beer and food ready to go. We all stocked up and got ready to explore a volcanic crater I’d found on Google Earth. Unfortunately for TS2, the KTM he was riding was having electrical issues (shocking!), and despite his brother’s keen interest to help him sort it out in a loving and nurturing way, he politely said “no thanks, dearest bro, I’ll just toodle on home”. Wheelie volunteered to tow him to Arusha and the rest of us climbed what turned out to be a spectacular little crater.

Above: My lunch and Viktory’s ample frame at the bar

Above: Climbing up the crater’s outer flank

Above: The crater rim

The volcano was spectacular. About a kilometer across and several hundred meters deep with cliff faces on several sides, it was really something. There were two obvious tracks leading to the bottom where herders take their animals, but after some reconnaissance work, Ajax and SteeVo decided that it would be best to leave that for another day. They were steep and rubbly tracks… getting down wouldn’t be the problem, it would be getting back up again! I took the opportunity to ride all the way around the crater and it felt like flying. Very cool.

Above: The Pig contemplates taking the leap

Above: The crater and Ajax

It was getting late, thunderstorms were brewing on the edges of the land and we were worn out from a long day. I took the lead again and pieced together a quick little rip up to the TanSwiss boys place through the fields. It had been a hell of a good ride, and we cruised back into Arusha covered in dried mud, dust and stinking to high heaven.

Above: Making our way through the fields

Above: The last men standing, a parting shot

That night we met up for food and were treated yet again to Viktory’s unruly monologues. Something about him showing up naked on somebody’s doorstep looking for sugar in the middle of the night then getting lost and peeing in his own tailpipe before breaking off his indicator. I may have the details wrong, but you get the idea. I haven’t laughed so much in a long time. It’s really good to know there are a handful of stupid people in the world who like doing the same things I do out here. Boys, it was a pleasure! (Viktory, call me!)

:snorting:

 

[Osadabwa]

I turned in early, knowing I still had 400KM of riding to do the next day solo. Unfortunately, the day before I’d discovered just as we were coming into Arusha that my clutch cable was breaking. I’d kinked it somehow and the casing was chafing the cable. At the TS brothers place, I installed my spare, but it, too had about half the strands broken. I was in a pickle. My friends suggested I call a local biker who also rides a Pig and could probably help me out. I was hesitant because I didn’t want to bug a stranger on Easter Sunday, but I sent him a message. He immediately wrote back saying karibu, so first thing in the morning I slipped through the mud to his place. We had coffee, shot the breeze, talked bikes and then he took me to his garage and gave me his brand-new spare cable. That was really cool. Thanks!

So, I was back on the road. Unfortunately, it was going to have to be tar. The clutch cable swap had eaten into my time and nighttime rains had made my original plan sketchy at best, so I belted it. I made one detour in Tanzania which had serious promise – a little track going around Longido – but there were deep and recent washouts every few hundred meters that would have made it a very slow process and I needed to make time.

Above: Out behind Longido, I’ll come back for this track some day

Above: A Georgia Okeefe worthy moment in the bush

I spent over an hour at the Namanga border this time because I was too stupid not to call my “agent” to bribe me through the process. You ask why corruption exists? Because it works and the bureaucracies don’t. To be honest, it was just a long queue. Once I got to the windows, it was quick quick, and I had a lot of laughs with the Kenyan women in line behind me who thought I was the weirdest thing they’d ever seen. Hell, I thought they were weird… they’d taken a taxi from Murang’a to friggin Burundi!

Anyway, once I got back on my home turf, I screwed the throttle on and hit the dirt. I raced the riverbed again, but the combined effort of the previous days riding had worn me out. I had some close calls with the now bald rear tire wanting to lowside in the sand, so I was forced to chill a bit. I was really tired and I knew it. I popped an ibuprofen at some point and had some food, but I still had a tough time. Not to say that I’d slowed down at all, just that it was less sensible to be flying along like that.

Above: Back up the rocky stuff to the sand river beyond

Above: Me and my Piggie. Good piggy. Good bike.

Above: The trip in pretty colors – 5.5  days, 1605 km… time for an oil change and a new rear tire!

I rode 220km of dirt essentially without stopping. I had the earplugs in and was pushing the pig hard to get me home. I had one or two notable close calls but kept the rubber side down. Probably the most dangerous part of the whole ride was once I was home, cleaned up and in my 4x4 going to the shops… I was still driving like I was on the bike! Look out people, I’m coming through!

Until the next one. Ride well everybody!

:snorting:

 

[0012]

absolutely fantastic as always!!!  :thumleft:  :thumleft:  :thumleft:

thanks very much for the time and effort put into these RRs  ;D

 

[Goingnowherekwickly]

Brilliant!
Thanks, lovely riding, and great report :thumleft:

 

[Oubones]

Thank you, good as always!

 

[BlueBull2007]

Brilliant report, thanks very much! :thumleft:

 

[Osadabwa]

I thought I was through riding for the holiday, but Clarke called and made me an offer I couldn’t refuse. “Drive up to Laikipia. My bikes are here. I suggest we go ride them for a few days down through Borana and around to Ol Olokwe." Now that’s a good suggestion, old bean! Tally ho!

After four hours of wanting to murder every person in a car from Narobi to Laikipia, I arrived ready to ride. We lunched with his folks at their lovely home nestled in the bush, did a quick oil change on the XRR and went off up the muddy forested foot of Mt. Kenya. It was a swamp, and lots of fun. It was impressive just how close to home Clarke has elephant, as seen by their droppings, and, sadly by a pile of sun bleached bones.

Above: Clarke changes his oil (for the first time himself), a quick ride out into the swampy bush, and the name of Clarke’s spanners… one has to wonder: Why does a Honda man keep imperial wrenches, and King Dick? Really?

At 5:30 the next morning, we were up and moving around. I was assigned cook detail and fried up some bacon and eggs for sandwiches we’d eat on the way. It had rained slightly in the night, but we were lucky to find the sky open and soaring. So, packed up, we shot down the road to Timau for fuel and turned North into the community rangelands.

The tracks were fantastic. We picked our way along a web of dirt roads, riverbeds and goat paths on our way to the main Dol Dol road that cuts through one of the wildlife conservation areas, stopping briefly on a rocky outcrop to take in the view and devour our bacon and egg sandwiches.

Above: Conservation land on the left, community land on the right. A deep trench and a fence is supposed to keep out illegal grazing. I’m skeptical.

Above: A nice breakfast spot

Above: We paralleled a sandy riverbed with steep sides for several kilometers

Above: After a bit of riverbed and hillside, we climbed out to follow the ridges. Goat paths led us where we needed to go.

Above: The season had brought out the wildflowers

Above: Through the public road corridor. Spikey electric fences on either side are meant to keep wildlife in and animals and people out. They were broken in many stretches.

Above: Clarke taking in the view from above

The road eventually led us to Dol Dol where we paused to top up the tanks and have a soda. From there, our plan was to angle across to Kipsing, a tiny little name holder on the map on the edge of a sand river. The year before, I’d ridden down the sand river to Kipsing with some others, but the recent rains and word of intra-tribal conflict among the Samburu there led us to take a detour around. It was no hardship. Once we found the road, we were in for a treat. The road was rough and challenging to ride and afforded spectacular views of the valley below.

to be continued...

 

[Osadabwa]

Above: Clarke quizzing the local Samburu kids for the road to Kipsing

Above: These signs adorn every infrastructure project. We laughed at the Contractor and Awareness

Above: Que the beautiful views

Above: Good thing the Housewifes Contractor had recently improved the road…

Above: Take a moment to appreciate Clarke’s riding attire: Khakis, hiking boots, a Barber jacket and  a military-style backpack holding seven hundred pounds of stuff… he’s special, is our Clarke.

The descent was fantastic and dropped us down into that maze of green acacias. For a while we faithfully followed a double-track through the trees, crossing riverbeds and weaving around through small villages. At some point, we lost track of it, however, and did a bit of bundu-bashing through the scrub until we reconnected with the track and cruised over to Kipsing.

Above: Panyapanyaing through the bush in search of the track

Above: The lugga near Kipsing

Above: Kipsing scenes – temporary shelters abandoned who knows why, and camels down in the lugga

Back on a main track, we were making good progress toward the Barsalinga bridge that spans the Ewaso Nyiro river. The track was fantastic riding. Good enough condition to be quick, but rutted and jumbled with stones in places to keep you honest. We passed a convoy of Samburu youth, all dolled up in their headdresses and robes, spears in hands on their way someplace. Maybe a circumcision ritual, I don’t know… but the sight was something else; three guys apiece on small motorbikes whipping through the bush, three bright feathers on their heads whipping in the wind.

Above: On the desert floor, views over to the Mathews Range

Above: The Barsalinga bridge over the Ewaso Nyiro

Our turnoff toward Wamba was just six kilometers from the bridge and became another highlight of the day’s ride. The previous year, I had somehow taken my group to a very wide, very fast murram road that linked Maralal and Wamba, but this year we found a smaller one. It aimed directly at the distinctive pyramid-shaped hill with the nipple on top, where it forked off to Archer’s Post on one side and Wamba on the other. Because we were unsure of our fuel, we opted for the Wamba branch. I’m really glad we did.

Above: Bluffs on the horizon

Above: The chilly nipple

Above: Thunderstorms breaking through in the afternoon heat

...to be continued...

 

[Osadabwa]

In Wamba we needed to make a decision. It was after three and if we were going to camp somewhere, we needed to decide where that would be, get some drinking water and get going. After a lot of hemming and hawing, we finally decided to try to find the Kitich Camp in the Mathew’s mountains. So, ready to go, we were victim’s of Sod’s Law… Clarke had a puncture. And, Clarke being unused to manual labor (at least at his own hand), he had the Wamba puncture crew do the honors. They were very efficient… pulled the tube out the side of the tire and patched it on the spot in the rain. In no time, we were off again.

Above: Clarke supervises from the shelter as the puncture guys do their thing

We left Wamba at 4pm armed with a vague knowledge of Kitich Camp’s location and an estimate that it was 45km or so up the road. I was eager for a beer, now that we’d chosen to stay at an organized campsite, so I was hot on the throttle, drifting little corners and flying through the fantastic landscape. Clarke was toodling along taking his sweet time which gave me a chance to take lots of photos at golden hour.

Above: With Wamba behind us, on our way into the Mathews. A Kitich roadmarker tells us we’re on the right track.

Above: There’s nothing like the Mathew’s in the evening

Above: The farther along we went, the poorer the road got, but the more fun the riding

Above: Deep green everywhere and some odd looking unfamiliar trees

Above: Getting on to five O’clock now, we’d better be getting close

The road was so washed out in places that I was not surprised to find only caretakers at the overgrown camp. They were closed for the season, so we’d have to rough it after all. We moved away from the camp and set ourselves up in a beautiful grassy meadow by the stream. Tents up, we got a fire going and took a dip in the river, with catfish nibbling at the dead skin on our toes. A real luxury spa treatment!

Above: Our Mathew’s campsite

In that incredibly large rucksack of his, Clarke pulls out a veritable feast. In addition to the bread I’d brought, he had brie, blue cheese, a pound of butter (yes… that one made me buckle over with laughter, especially given it’s state after a day on the road) and a half kg of fillet steak. We skewered the steaks and cooked them up nicely on the open fire. Fireflies played in the long grass, hyena whooped in the distance and the stars made an appearance overhead. Kenya at her absolute best.

Above: Dinnertime

 

[Osadabwa]

That night it rained hard. My little one-man tent rang with the sound of the drops on the fly but I was dry and cozy all the same. In the morning, Clarke found himself fairly damp. Apparently, the make-shift lean-to rainfly he’d erected over the dodgy military mosquito tent lacked the required impermeability and all of his things were soaked. Clarke being his usual undaunted self, packed everything up in that rucksack (imagine how it must have weighed full of wet clothes) and set off on the bike in shorts, trainers (no socks) and a t-shirt… as you do.

Above: One last look at the morning’s camp… some hyena tracks on the muddy road

Above: Fantastic riding, wonderful scenery (kick-ass bike too!)

Above: Clarke fords a stream

Above: Clarke’s spring collection biking attire on display above the rolling valleys

Above: And the Red Red Robbin goes Bob Bob Bobbin alooooong....

Above: A fireplace marks the sight of something grand. I always feel a sense of loss when I see something like this… the place would have had a beautiful view of the mountains.

Above: We shared the road with camels in spots

The evening before, I tried my best to convince Clarke to ride to Ngurunit via the Milgis Lugga. We were already a third of the way into the Mathews Range, and riding the rest of it would have been a dream with the weather we were having. The lugga too would have been fantastic, assuming it wasn’t too wet. But all of a sudden, we needed to be getting back, and some errands had emerged that I didn’t remember hearing about when we were setting off. Anyway, it was decided instead to return to Wamba and make our way to Ol Olokwe, which in fairness was the original destination of our trip.

On our way back to Wamba, near the turnoff, we spotted a stone monolith and Clarke suggested we see if it could be climbed. At first it looked doable, then up close it looked damn steep. But since it was bone-dry, the grip was amazing and we scooted right up to the top and were rewarded with a commanding view of the world. The clear skies gave the impression of being embedded in crystal. We could see Mt. Kenya 130 km away. Fantastic.

Above: Clarke rides up the stone

Above: We stopped mid-way

Above: The bikes enjoying the view

Above: Scrambling on foot to the very top

Above: Clarke looks out to Mt. Kenya

Above: Back toward Wamba… the camera doesn’t differentiate between the stone’s cliff face and the acacias below

Above: Coming back down

Above: Last pics from the rocky top

...to be continued...

 

[Osadabwa]

Above: Clarke with our rock in the background. Notice where the rucksack is… having broken his shoulders and back the day before, Clarke was now carrying the rucksack on his lap. This of course kept him from being able to stand or ride aggressively, but in shorts, maybe that’s not a swell plan anyway. Also, Clarke said: You know, I like to take it easy; look at the trees and things!

After our climb on the big rock, it was time for a bit of breakfast in Wamba. I was skeptical of finding something palatable but was pleasantly surprised when with what Gifto’s had to offer: fresh chapati and eggs hit the spot.

Above: Be patient, God has great plans for you… Clarke

After breakfast, we set our sights on Ol Olokwe, otherwise known as Sebache, a massive stone monolith that juts out of the plains directly in the path of the Great North Road that your more unimaginative African overland bikers will have seen on their way from Capetown to Cairo. We planned to drop our kit at the little campsite nearby and explore a bit more on the bikes.

Above: Infrastructure in the ASAL

Above: Finish grading the road yet? "But boss, we got a puncha!"

Above: Ol Olokwe in profile

Above: At the intersection with the tar road. It’s amazing how civilized a good tar road makes a place feel. And this one has stripes on it! Bring your superbikes boys, BMWs welcome!

Above: Clarke at Sebache’s foot

The Sebache campsite, situated in a beautiful corner wedged between the two great cliffs of Ol Olokwe, is one of the biggest missed opportunities in Kenya. In short, it’s really ugly. Everything is run down, but that doesn’t even matter. What irks is that they haven’t managed to use the natural environment as an asset. You have to struggle to get to a place in the camp with a nice view of the cliffs or the valley. With all the increased traffic the tar road will bring, I hope they reinvest some of the revenue into fixing the place up a bit. Still, the staff were friendly and helpful and let us put our tents far away from the dining area down among the trees with a view of the cliffs.

Above: At the camp, a quick cold one before setting up the tent and heading out for an afternoon ride

Having snacked a bit for lunch, we set off to climb Ol Olokwe. Okay, not the main bit… that would have taken a special effort that we weren’t up for. Instead, we found the road that had been scratched in the side of the mountain leading to the cell phone towers that now stand for all to see on one shoulder of the mountain. For a quick blat, it was just the right amount of tricky. The cell companies clearly don’t maintain the road often, so it was great fun, and the views, again, were amazing.

Above: Clarke demonstrates proper riding technique and attire… good thing you got your knuckles covered there Clarke!

Above: With his workers on strike, Farmer Clarke has no choice but to herd his cattle up the ranch road himself.

Above: Now that’s a view

Above: It was hot up there in the mid afternoon

Above: A couple more outstanding features visible from the road down

Back at camp, I showered up while Clarke fussed and fiddled with his jua kali tent arrangement. The place we camped was beneath a lovely canopy of trees with the mountain looming overhead. As evening drew down, we zipped back up to the camp HQ for a couple ice-cold beers (it pays to pre-order these), and a nice chicken dinner. I think we were asleep at eight thirty.

Above: Clarke pleased with his setup… me, I’m a bit skeptical

 

[Osadabwa]

At dawn, I was up and ready to go. We’d already agreed to just slide up the tar 150 km to Nanyuki, so the riding would be non-existent, but I figured it would be nicer to go early when the desert is at her most beautiful. We weren’t disappointed. Eventually Clarke finally, begrudgingly, got his ass out of his sleeping contraption, shooed away a couple of little scorpions from his gear and got on the bike. We set off up the tar road at a leisurely clip, marveling at how far you could see thanks to the the crisp air.

Above: Perhaps Clarke's unique odor of butter and bullheadedness is what attracted the scorpions...

Above: Mt Kenya peeks through the clouds in the distance

Above: A rainbow halo comes through the morning clouds

The riding was lame, to be sure, but I was unprepared for how beautiful the ride itself would be. Climbing up from Isiolo into the organized commercial farms was one of the highlights of the ride. The colors are indescribable. Too many shades of green to count. The fields rolled away over undulating volcanic ground, fringed with bits of forest and lined with cedar posted fences. Back down in the plains, mountain ranges sat quietly in infinite shades of blue and gray. Simply fantastic. Pictures don’t capture it.

Above: Looking back over the farms to the plains below

Above: Kenya’s diversity of landscape is unparalleled... look at what we've seen in 3 days of riding

Above: At the top of the climb, we stopped in for a quick coffee. Nice place, but man the waitress was ugly!

Above: Back in Nanyuki, we had breakfast at Soames looking out at Mt. Kenya peeking through the clouds.

An excellent way to wrap up the Easter Holidays. Thanks to Clarke for suggesting his suggestions, loaning me his bike and bringing steak, butter and blue cheese on a ride. Please, if you ever need to borrow my bike, just know that it’ll always be unavailable for you, seriously, any time mate!

:snorting:

 

[Osadabwa]

An update on the Snoozuki (for you, Faceplant)

Somehow or other, Appy's DRZ400 got hungry and ate both his exhaust valves back on our 2nd day in Tanzania:

It was a good thing he did it so close to Karatu town... if he'd waited any longer we'd have been deep in the forgotten valley and it wouldn't have been so nice to extricate him.

I suspect the bike died because she was trying to keep up with the Pig.
:snorting:

 

[Osadabwa]

Has it been a whole month without a ride!? No! This shall not stand!

Easter was fantastic. So much different terrain between TZ and mid-northern Kenya. But since then, the rains have come in heavy and unrelenting, and I've had to work a lot... insult to injury, that. I've been so depressed, reading through Xpat's exploits (asshole that he is, always riding) and my old reports.

So the Pig has been sitting patiently in the garage. I decided after my swim in the river that the big IMS tank needs to be trip-proofed before I can trust her again in the bush, so in the meantime, miss piggy is wearing her sleek 13L tank for tactical, shorter rides (I'm lucky to get 200km out of that tank). And because my XL600 has been laid up with a leaky gasket (to be sorted directly) I've been riding the Pig in Nairobi which is just hazardous to one's health... All this to say, it's about damn time I get dusty again.

So 7 days hence we're off again for 2 nights out. We'll camp, I think... need to get in some whisky drinking under the stars. But it's Seven. Whole. Days. An eternity.

The bikes are ready, and so are we.

 

[Goingnowherekwickly]

Been wondering whats going on
looking forward to the next instalment !

 

[Osadabwa]

April showers, and May showers, and friggin’ June showers make for restless bikers! And in case anyone thinks “pshht, a real biker rides in the rain”, they weren’t in Kenya this season. The valley has been absolutely hammered. Roads washed away, lakes appearing where they never were before. It’s been wet. But, finally the deluge turned to drizzle and we organized ourselves for a two-nighter self-contained camping trip to our favorite places: Mt. Suswa, the steaming dormant volcano, and the Ewaso Nyiro “muddy river” down below the Nguruman escarpment. Braaaaap!

 

[Xpat]

Is that all???

Comon, you can do better!!  :snorting:

 

[Osadabwa]

Hello there Xpat, glad to see you again. Of course there's more, but with your reports up, everybody's worn out from all the awesome Namibia shit and don't want to see anything from Kenya! But since you trolled so nicely, I'll go ahead and put up the first part now. Since you're so keen, scroll up and see how I spent my Easter holidays... I'm telling you, you need to come to TZ and Kenya again :snorting:

Loaded up, we were ready to leave Nairobi at 2:00 PM on Friday afternoon. Fifteen minutes of dodging potholes and fighting homicidal minibuses and clueless cagers later, we were fueling up and ready to drop into the Rift Valley. Panic and I decided we’d forego riding through the “meadow” because the meadow was now a lake, but somehow the message didn’t reach Frogger. So Panic and I split up and I went back looking for him. Showing a lack of judgment, I decided to follow Frogger's tracks through the aforementioned meadow and got properly soaked by the spray. It’s about twice the length of a football field and the water was axle deep most of the way with a few little dips to freak you out along the way. I made it across and we were soon reunited. The Three Stooges back together.

Above: Frogger, having gotten lost only seconds after a petrol stop, shows his delight at being found again, knowing he’d never find his way home without us!

Above: The valley is green and bursting with color. The cows and the Big Red Pigs love it.

Above: Frogger and Panic tumble down a rough stretch of track

Above: The fast way to Suswa – a brilliant, very quick dirt road that scratches the throttle’s itch

We were cruising. Keen to be on top of Suswa by late afternoon to drink the beers we’d packed in our bags, we chewed up the kilometers, racing along the dusty scratch in the valley’s green hide. But too much gusto caught both Panic and Frogger out, with the former taking a high speed low-side on an off-camber corner, and the latter ill-advisedly bailing into the soft sandy edge to avoid some cattle and going down. Apparently unscathed apart from bruises and burnished plastics, we blasted on into what was looking like foreboding weather ahead.

Above: Frogger before and after a little mishap in the sand

Above: What an amazing place… and finally green again!

Above: As usual, my bike gets lots of vanity portraits since I’m the only reliable cameraman on these rides. What a beauty.

Above: When has there ever been water in this river?

We approached the base of Mt. Suswa flying and began battering our way up the volcanic flank. In the distance, Mt. Longonot, usually visible, was engulfed in dark gray clouds. It looked like maybe our evening would be spent hunkering down in tents instead of shooting shit around the fire.

Above: On Suswa’s flank, Longonot lost in the rain behind

Luckily for us, the rain gods spared our little party! We arrived on top of the volcano to a hazy, breezeless view. The guys up there had organized firewood and a jerry can of water and had swept the site of whistle thorns in advance of our arrival, so we were properly ready to crack open those beers and settle in. I’d bought spiced mishikaki bits from the corner guys in my ‘hood and we cooked it over the fire after tucking in to baguettes and pate courtesy the Frog. What a fantastic place to camp, right on the volcano’s inner rim. The silence of the place was overwhelming when it wasn’t filled with Panic’s contagious laugh. We crashed late and slept fast.

Above: Arrival beer, to aid with the unpacking

Above: Camp established on the crater rim

Above: In our places – Frogger doling out the baguette and pate

:snorting:

 

[Xpat]

Nah, it's not me. It's those gripping accounts of lambchops in Oasis and Baviaans, that have taken over.

Kudos to you for perservering with these - I know it gets a bit discouraging when noone watches and comments. And yes, I would love to ride those tracks - just have to figure out a way to make money while skipping that tedious work business. Is there any way to make quick money up there? Any Ponzi scheme I can start that wasn't tried yet?  8)

 

[Oubones]

I enjoy your RR’s immencely as I am one of the unlucky ones that does not get time to do much riding!
Between work and short money it is uphill.
My last trip was on Sunday with the wife on the back for a brekkie, slab all the way!
Between you and Xpat and a few others there is at least something interesting going on.
Thanks for your efforts!