2019 - Big Red Pigs in Kenya

[Chrisl]

Sub!! :thumleft: :drif:

 

[Osadabwa]

[youtube]https://youtu.be/1NtOHa0bxTQ[/youtube]

Full report coming soon...
:snorting:

 

[pietas]

Going upmarket with the reports  O0
Cool tunes  :thumleft:

 

[Osadabwa]

Wouldn’t you know it would rain. Nairobi was chilly when I left the house and the tar road out of town was a sloppy mess overrun with the usual poorly-behaved muppets in their wheeled cages. The plan was to meet up with Wry and Neb at the Shell station, fuel up, and just burn it to Maralal on tar. It’s a long way up there and we wanted to be as close to the Suguta as we could be for an early start the following day.

Above: The petrol station. My prophesy: It’ll rain and be cold all the way past Nyahururu. The actual situation: sunshine around the first corner. Panic would have approved.

We kept the throttles on past Nyahururu until Neb’s little belly started grumbling. He’s our canary in the coal mine when it comes to eating. Wry and I would probably just keep going until we dropped, but Neb, being a spring chicken, needs to eat regularly to maintain all that youthful piss and vinegar of his. It’s usually good though, and our breakfast in Rumuruti hit the spot indeed. Afterwards, we legged it for Maralal, stopping only to say hi to a friend of Wry’s along the way.

Above: Rumuruti Choma Zone for a chapati/egg breakfast burrito and some fuel.

Above: Meeting up with Wry’s friend roadside somewhere. Cheers again for the beers and snacks, mate!

Above: Maralal again. I’ve been up here 3 times in half a year. It’s the crossroads for Northern adventures.

Above: Neb seeks clarity and Wry and I bargain for some crumbled leaf tobacco at the Maralal herbalists and healers market. Turkana love to chew and snort the stuff, so we were keen to have some on hand to help us ingratiate ourselves if need be. At 20/- ($0.20) a bag, we took 10 and hit the road again. The straight road to Baragoi is a well-known bandit corridor, so we took our preferred route off the back of the mountain to Barsaloi, pausing to have lunch at the overlook we found last ride.

Above: Neb and Wry heading out of Maralal

Above: Runch at the rookout

Above: Neb on the descent

Above: We detoured into the small riverbed at the base of the hill to get a little sand practice in and to mix it up a little. It was a nice detour.

Above: Won’t be the last bit of sand this trip

Above: The riverbed narrowed and kicked us out on the road to Barsaloi.


To be continued...

 

[Osadabwa]

Above: Wry on the road to Barsaloi

Above: The start of the Milgis Lugga… in Easter we took this 80km riverbed to Ngurunit and on the way home, Neb crashed in there so hard he forgot what day it was… and still doesn’t know.

Above: Barsaloi Catholic Church’s reminder that Peace is something desirable. You don’t have signs like that unless peace is hard to come by… Painting depicts a Turkana and Samburu with their cattle, an ever-present source of excitement.

Whipping past Barsaloi, wide were the road, the throttles and the grins. There we maxed our speeds, rushing toward the evening and keen to be so close to the end of the day. By the time we arrived in Baragoi and had fuelled and found a guest house, it was 450km later and many hours in the saddle. We celebrated the very good accommodation and brilliant, almost cool weather with four too many beers and a couple drams of Scotch we could have missed as well. All in all, for a day that was only meant to be getting from A to B, it was a lot of fun. We hit the hay early and slept hard. Tomorrow we’d see about Suguta.

Above: Wry giving it some on the Baragoi Road

Above: Samburuland is lovely. Ndoto mountains on the horizon.

Above: Neb and the happy clouds

Above: A quick break at the famous: “War: The Banquet of the Hyenas” sign on the Baragoi road

Above: Barsaloi really playing up that "cleanest town" business... it's like bragging about having perfect attendance. Get over yourselves, nerds!

Above: I don't know if I'm coming or going...

Above: Pulling into the guest house in Baragoi. I was very pleased with the state of this place; though the proximity to a bar could have made it noisy on a Friday night, it was peaceful as could be on a Wednesday.

Above: San Antonio was my bougainvillea-bedecked abode for the night

Above: Neb and I on the White Caps, sending selfies to all the suckers who couldn’t make it on the ride

See you at 5:45 AM

:snorting:

 

[Xpat]

Very cool ride - even Honda cannot take away from it... ot: :thumleft:

 

[Osadabwa]

Just wait... it gets so much better.

You can stir the shit all you want, I know the  :snorting: is king of the desert!

 

[Osadabwa]

5:45 AM

We were planning to be up with the dawn anyway, but it was a very rude awakening indeed to have what sounded like the Devil himself shouting “HALLELUIAH!” via loud speaker and going on about real live saints returned from heaven to earth to tell YOU all about it today in Nakuru, just a small donation requested and your salvation is GUARANTEED! Who wakes up and thinks it’d be OK to start his amps at dawn to blast the Good News from his doorstep to everyone within a 2-kilometer radius. WWJD? I bet he’d wear headphones, but I can’t be sure. I’d ask him, but I think he left Kenya last week after saving loads of folks in Kitengela and Ongata Rongai. LINK Amen.

Above: A peaceful shop getting on with it in Baragoi, despite the shouts of the self-espoused healers on the neighbour’s amp.

We easily found the road out of town along the plateau’s green back. The early morning light was a treat, and the going was easy. Cool air and the play of light through the clouds crowding Nyiro over towards Tuum was fantastic. Soon the road dropped off the edge and began winding its way toward the valley floor. Rockier, but recently maintained and very rideable, we rode it easily, drinking in the new scenery and getting geared up for the Valley proper. At some point we paused to let a man move his herd of stubborn camels walk down the road a piece. As we waited, I noticed Neb had a broken spoke. No shock there since he’d been riding like mad on a dead mousse and detonated tire. While we waited for him to tune the spokes, a 4x4 came by, crowded with armed escorts for a pair of wazungu in the back seat. When I asked if all was well down below, they said “hivi-hivi” and gave me a doubtful shrug. “Hivi-hivi’s good enough for us,” I said. It’ll never be perfect.

Above: Along the way, there’s a campsite we didn’t explore. I imagine it’s pretty basic, but it might be out of earshot of the 5AM sermon.

Above: The Southern end of Nyiro was roiling with morning cloud and the air was cool.

Above: Neb and Wry coming down through the cool greenery

Above: I spooked this man’s camels twice and finally asked if we could go ahead. He said we should wait so he could move them off the track, so we did. I still think I got in hot water with the Parkati Turkana for stressing their camels a couple years back, so I gave the man some space.

Above: This gave Neb some time to do reactive “maintenance”

Above: This Desert Rose was easily over 2 meters tall.

Above: Enjoy that slash fellas, there won’t be many more for the rest of the day…

Above: Getting closer to the bottom, but still no sign of the Valley floor

Finally, we saw it. We crested a rise and the Suguta Valley spread out below. We could see the dunes and the Black Cone, Aruba Rock, and far in the distance the shimmer of Lake Logipi where we’d once tried to ride and were turned back by the heat LINK. It was very colourful, with beautiful dry grass yellows, volcanic grays, rusts and blacks, and also far more green than I expected. The brown stretch of the Suguta River twisted its way down the centre of it all, flanked by daum palms on both sides. We were elated. Now it was becoming real. After a minute or two, we kicked the bikes and got rolling, it was time to do get in there.

To be continued...

 

[Chrisl]

That little town even seems to have electricity!! :thumleft:

 

[Osadabwa]

Once in the valley floor, we had a choice to follow the new road to the South where a bridge had reportedly been built, or we could ford the Suguta River and bee-line it for the dunes. We picked the latter. It was a much shorter route if it was possible, and we were on a recce mission, so finding out what works and what doesn’t was the whole point. We retraced an old 4x4 track through a dry riverbed until it vanished in the grass-tufted flats and then steered toward the dunes. The first place we tried to cross the river, the silt was quick-sand and I got bogged down in it before abandoning ship. Later on, though, we found a workable spot and made our way to the other side.

Above: Crossing the sand and rock-covered plains

Above: The Suguta River that flows North in to saline Lake Logipi where it dead ends and swelters in the heat

Above: Our first potential crossing point turned out to be a bit too sticky

Above: Scouting for a likely crossing point. There are no people here, so there are not the usual cattle and goat paths in and out of the river. It was completely uninhabited. Pristine.

Above: Neb took one for the team and walked the river. Having declared it good to go, I blasted through with no problems and the others followed.

Above: Neb crossing the Suguta River in style

Above: A lot of style!

Above: Dammit Neb, don’t kill the cameraman!

[youtube]https://youtu.be/-vj2yGlKfp8[/youtube]
Above: Video coming down the mountain and through the river

To be continued...

 

[Osadabwa]

Successfully across the river, excitement was building. The tufted grassy expanse before us was no obstacle at all with the dunes waiting patiently in the near distance. The wind was whipping and the day was still cool as we approached our goal. Soon enough we rode up the first of the dunes and left the grass behind. Wry went ahead, scouting a path to the Black Cone while I waited for Neb to do something or other. Eventually unable to wait any longer, I set out after Wry who had vanished in the distance immediately and whose tracks were already being erased by the wind. Soon we were all together, exploring routes through the sand, taking it easy and not going crazy. The goal for the trip was reconnaissance: We wanted to ride the dunes, climb the Black Cone and acquire intel about the other features and potential routes to Lake Logipi and beyond.

Above: Much of the Valley is covered in this tufted grass interspersed with sand or compacted soil. It’s not difficult to ride (when it’s dry), but it hides numerous treacherous gullies, some of which are deep and steep enough to give you a bad time.

Above: Wry aims for a gap in the last of the palms, the Black Cone awaits in the distance

Above: Everything in the Suguta Valley is hardy, harsh and beautiful

Above: On the first of the dunes! Elated.

Above: Wry sets off for the Cone

Above: Lovely texture, hard packed mostly, but don’t let your guard down

Above: Wry approaches through a field of ripples and sand-snakes

Above: Distances are utterly impossible to gauge, and with the wind erasing tracks almost as quickly as they’re made, it would be easy to get separated. Fortunately, the dune field isn’t so huge and there are many landmarks to navigate by. It gave me a sense of what the Sahara might be like and it gave me the willies.

Above: Neb enjoying the dunes a little

Above: It’s an endless playground we shall return to explore.

At some point, Wry, who has a lot of dune experience (I have none) showed me how NOT to descend a seemingly inoffensive slope. Cruising past me, he immediately went ass over teakettle in the much softer sand of the lee-side slope (captured on video, below). Helping him (after photographing him in his shame of course) was the first time in the trip I noticed the hidden challenge of the dunes. Just walking in the deep sand was a chore, and righting and pulling the bike back down to where Wry could walk it out was equally tough. Alone, maybe impossible. Of course, the XR adds the third challenge: kickstarting a flooded bike, which we took turns doing and eventually required Neb’s help too. By the time I climbed back up to retrieve my bike, I was feeling sapped of energy. That was just the beninging.

Above: You have to admit, Wry picked a beautiful place to dump the bike

Above: Neb’s view of Wry’s goof

Above: Us extricating Wry’s bike from her sandy hole. I felt just like an ant in an Antbear trap

Above: Neb, far above us, taking pics and laughing at our misfortune

Above: Beautiful shot from Neb’s lookout… in the distance, you can see I’m already starting to feel it

Above: This is the photo we all came here to take. Beauty.

Above: Neb surfs Suguta Valley

[youtube]https://youtu.be/JslekAZrL44[/youtube]
Above: From the Suguta River to the Suguta sand dunes and the Black Cone

 

[Osadabwa]

We rolled up to the Black Cone’s base and doffed as much kit as we could to begin the ascent. The whole feature is composed of large basalt boulders, so climbing was like playing on a jungle gym. At the top, the wind roared and we took an hour admiring the view and just taking it all in. We’d made it to our destination. It was hard for me to process. I’d been planning it for years, and here I was. Neb phoned his dad on our borrowed Satellite Phone. We are very far from help if something goes wrong, so we made an extra effort to have a backup plan. With the Sat-Phone we could call one of Wry’s mates who owns a helicopter and had agreed to be our life-line if needed. It was nice piece of mind. This place is no joke, a fact that became clearer with every passing hour.

Above: Wry climbs to the Eastern edge

Above: Me and the boys. Cheers fellas, we made it!

Above: Wry and Neb studying the dunes

Above: From the other side of the Cone, the bikes look like toys. From there, I could just make out that somebody’s helmet had fallen in the sand! Ha ha ha… shit. It was mine.

Above: In the Cone’s “dimple” Wry and I play the fool

Above: Back down again, a little less energetic, but totally fulfilled.

We agreed that for this first foray into the Valley, we wanted to explore Aruba Rock, the castle-like tan volcanic core jutting from the ground some kilometres away, and see if we could get to Lake Logipi. So,rather than play the day away in the dunes, we had to get moving. Right away, I delayed our plans by getting myself stuck… twice. The first time, I missed the line and ended up off the lee side of a dune in the soft sand. I managed to extricate myself from there, but as I ground my way around the bowl of the dune, I got trapped right where Wry had churned up the sand earlier on. Neb had to come give me a hand or I wasn’t going anywhere. That battle wore me out further, I was beginning to see where this was going...

Above: Me, well and truly dug in.

Once I was out, we made our way to new territory out the North end of the dunes near Aruba Rock. Before long, Neb rode ahead of me and parked on a dune top and I could see spots in the sky ahead. Helicopters. Twice a day, two high-end tour operators take clients on helicopter rides over Kenya’s desert highlights, including Aruba Rock and the Black Cone. I rushed to where Neb was, and almost went over backwards as a fist full of throttle in soft sand caught hold and the wheel lifted up well past my comfort zone! I was parked and settled by the time the first bird thumped a circle around us, and we watched as the third and fourth, both four-seaters, descended to eye-level in the distance and charged directly at us and over our heads, waving. A very cool salute from colleagues of Wry’s friend.

Above: Spread out aiming for Aruba Rock

Above: Our helicopter fly-by. Also in the video below.

Once the choppers were specks in the southern sky, we continued toward Aruba Rock. Soon, we could see that the black skirt surrounding the Rock was composed of large volcanic rubble, impassable on a bike, at least from the South. By this time, Neb, the food alarm, was getting hungry and we all agreed it was time to park up somewhere shady, chew some vittles, down some water and ORS and maybe wait out the heat of the day before pushing North. At this point, we were considering camping in the valley overnight. There was no sign of anyone anywhere for miles. It would be breath-taking to see dusk and dawn in that place. But given our water situation (6L each, half of it gone already), it could have also been daft and dangerous.

Above: Aruba Rock flanked by her skirt of black stones… another time, I will approach from another angle where it looks like dunes reach the base. I’d love to see that thing under a full moon.

Above: The riding was spectacular. We tracked off-piste through stones, bush and deep sand.

Above: A lone dune on the backside of one of the Valley’s crescent volcano mouths. Distance and size are deceptive in the desert. That dune is several storeys high and 300M along the spine.

Above: We carved a place out from beneath a palm and tucked in. Neb cut up his signature chili chives Brown’s cheddar, and we all shared tins of chicken and fish.

Above: We decided to let the clouds come in if they were going to, and let the heat of the day move along a spell. We crashed out under the palm’s shade and tried to ignore the sweat flies for an hour with mixed results. Wry managed to snore a bit, but I felt like a baked potato. It was 38C/100F in the shade and the breeze was giving out.

Above: This was the best we could do for shade…

To be continued...

 

[Osadabwa]

After an hour’s rest, we kitted back up and pressed onwards. The rest had done me a world of good and I took off, keen to find the passage to L. Logipi. The Valley narrows where a wide tongue of black rubble spills out of a gaping ancient volcano on the West, squeezing the Suguta River’s meandering track. I wasn’t exactly sure which route to pursue, but I wanted to see that black tongue up close and was not keen to cross the river so I aimed northwest. Riding directly across the grass was much slower and laborious than earlier on thanks to the many deep ravines with wet clay in them crisscrossing the path. Finally along the edge, we were able to follow the volcanic spill, but were diverted by a rivulet back to the centre of the Valley where Neb eventually got bogged down in head-high grass. At this point, I was already out of energy again and when Neb finally extricated himself from the grass he said “I think this place is slowly trying to kill me”. We decided it was time to head out, and sharpish. Water was low, people were starting to get weak and we were a long way from a road. So of course, only 100M later, Wry bogged himself down in a mud hole that took all three of us to get him out of. Cheers Wry.

Above: Neb makes our Northern-most tracks before calling it quits for this recce

Above: Wry, buried up to the axel in the mud.
After a short conference, we decided to retrace our steps past the dunes and bee-line it off-piste over unknown terrain for the southern road that would take us out to Lokori. I had an old GPS track, but I gathered, correctly it turned out, that it went off-piste, so when we got there, we just had to start making our way however we could. The dead heat of the day had taken hold, and no matter what I did I couldn’t stay hydrated. I hadn’t taken a piss all day, and I felt numb, like every muscle had been aggressively massaged. My helmet made me claustrophobic even with the visor up. The dunes were easy enough to ride, but once they stopped, we only had a stretch of sandy riverbed before we were manhandling the Pigs over the lumpy, uneven flats. We stopped again under a shady palm and I guessed we had 13km to go over the uneven, grass-clumpy, stony, sandy flats to the road we hoped would be there. By now the Mercury was closer to 41C/105F in the shade.

Above: The last shade palms and 41C heat

Above: Easy enough going in the sandy stretches

Above: The grassy tufts, however, disguised any number of traps

Above: Eventually, we rolled out onto eroded, rock-strewn hills that were actually preferable to the grass

At last, we reached the road, right at a village we didn’t at all expect to find. It had taken us three hours to ride 30km in oppressive heat. That’s a lot of slow moving and manhandling the bike. The Turkana elders there directed us to the only duka where we bought half pints of hot Grape Fanta and pounded them like they were ice cold White Caps. The whole group was friendly, but guarded, and only when Wry pulled out the tobacco balls we’d bought in Maralal did their faces relax. With more sugar and liquids in our bodies, and late afternoon well underway, we hit the Lokori road flying. I was gunning it, hoping to get to Lokori before the sugar rush of the Fanta faded to black. The road was good and we were charging, but my body was telling me I’d overone it. My fingers refused to release the handlebars and my hamstrings and groin muscles took turns cramping and spasming all the way there. Still, the evening light on the trees, rocks and short green grass was a sight to see.

Above: Parting shots from Suguta Valley on the Lokori Road

Above: Thumbs up, but probably just because my hand had cramped in that position! Such a beautiful evening for a rip.

Above: Neb crushes over the embedded stones to Lokori

Above: Wry hammers a deep fesh-fesh field… it was a brilliant track

Above: Bikes and bikers both, ready to rest

Lokori, like Baragoi had decent accommodation and attentive staff and we were quickly out of our kit, washed up and sat around a table of hot food. I drank 2 more litres of water and ORS plus a beer before I finally managed to piss. At night I hallucinated my way through the darkness, still riding Suguta Valley in my dehydrated dreams.

[youtube]https://youtu.be/P4rnUTsNvwQ[/youtube]
Above: And my dreams looked something like this...

 

[Osadabwa]

I felt like a dog’s chew toy in the morning. Every fibre of my body felt like moosh. We were in no rush to climb back on the bikes, so we took in the morning scene around the guest house (lots of guys with AK-47s hopping in 4x4s as security), drank more fluids and chewed our surprisingly savoury breakfasts at our leisure. I’d promised the boys a (relatively) easy 200km jaunt over to Iten where we could spoil ourselves with good food, a nice bed and a cold climate for a change.

So, after an annoying fuel stop where kids kept getting their bare feet under my MX boots and the muppet at the pump couldn’t understand the concept of “fill ‘er up”, we set off through the South Turkana National Reserve. It was a fantastic double track through unspoiled Kenyan bush with 3 meter anthills spiking through the acacias and knee-high yellow-green grass everywhere. At the time, we didn’t know it was a reserve and it felt properly spooky… where there is pasture but no pastoralists, perhaps its because it’s a contested zone. Gave us the heebie jeebies for sure, but what a beautiful place.

Above: Starting off from Lokori

Above: In S. Turkana Reserve… the deep grass and lack of humanity was otherworldy

Above: There wasn’t so much as a truck track on this old 4x4 road, despite it being a numbered road on my GPS

Above: Of course I got a puncture. Of course it was a pinch flat on the front. I actually suspect I had lost pressure from a thorn pinhole and didn’t notice it, but it didn’t change the fact that I was again sweating in the sun. At least the bike crutch I built worked perfectly.

Above: Neb has energy enough to lift the wheel

Above: Picture postcard worthy place

As we continued on, I kept coming across cattle with no signs of herders. I didn’t like that. It meant whoever was tending the animals skeedaddled when they heard us coming, implying that perhaps they were somewhere they shouldn’t be. Fortunately, the first humans we saw after an hour of silence were kids and they didn’t have guns, so we breathed a sigh of relief. The road widened and headed straight for the other side of the Rift Valley where we stopped for a bite and a rest.

Above: Neb salutes the cool air that awaits us atop the escarpment

Above: Lunch stop under a cool shade tree in Pokot territory

I was struck again by the beauty of the Pokot area under the escarpment. So many tall trees and so lush. The road was nice, but had no flow. You couldn’t get any rhythm due to the many turns and variety of life on the roads, from people to sheep, so we just pressed on past Tot and picked one of the three switchbacked roads up the escarpment face I’d plotted in the GPS. It was really fun riding, having been abandoned by cars long ago, it was scrambly on the tight switchbacks but rideable all the way. We paused for a look down into the Rift Valley and licked it on up to Iten for a night at the Kerio View Hotel

Above: The Pokot area of the upper Kerio River Valley is lovely

To be continued...

 

[Osadabwa]

Above: Climbing up the switchbacked track to Iten, our previous track in the distance getting hammered by rain

Above: Bare stone and rolling rocks kept the climb interesting

Above: A brief snack break to admire the scenery

Above: Turning away from the steep edge into the agricultural zone

Above: Maize covered hillsides as far as the eye could see

Above: Triumphant beer and Kerio View Hotel’s fantastic view

Above: Monkeys

Above: The place is colourful, that’s for certain.

I was still running on half power from the day before and we all had a very early night. The cool air and nice rooms were just what the doctor ordered. We’d feel 100% in the morning.

:snorting:

 

[Osadabwa]

Up to a heavy fog that obliterated the Kerio View, we dallied over our breakfast not keen to put on damp kit in the cold. I had a long chat with the owner, Jean Paul who had recently been to the Suguta Valley as well, during his 70ish year of life, with a pair of mates and two 4x4s that were perpetually stuck in the mud. Some people never stop exploring. We were out of there by 10, passing by Runners Point, a shop owned by some of the fastest long distance runners on Earth. Wry knows them, so we stopped to say howdy before enjoying the beautiful, twisty tarmac down to the valley floor.

Above: Piggies in the mist

Above: Runners Point boys with Wry

Above: I don’t know if that’s very hygenic

Above: Neb bids Iten farewell the only way he knows how

Above: Handsome devils freezing their fingers off

Above: Descending from Iten

Above: If you’ve got to make tar roads, make them like this

Down in the Kerio Valley again, we slid pas the Flurspar mine and headed East. The roads were rolling and quick and we made really good time. Again I was struck by how nice it is down there. Eventually the road began to climb out the other side of the valley and it got rockier and twistier. This inspired hooliganism. I saw Wry up ahead turn to see where I was and just went for him. He could hear me coming so he started twisting it on. We were locked in a nice battle for several km, blasting over loose stones with no care for rims or wreckage. Fantastic. Having crested the hill, we then pulled down the tar for a few km and jumped back off onto a nice track shortcutting over to the Baringo – Nakuru road to an old bridge solely used by charcoal burners where we stopped for lunch.

Above: River crossing at the Flurspar Mine

Above: Kerio Valley

Above: Starting the ascent and the race zone. Not too many photos as a result, but it was sweet.

Above: Heading down to the bridge

Above: Nice place, lazy river

Above: One of Kenya’s most successful tribes: Illegal Charcoal Burners. Nice helmet, Kevin.

Above: Runch

 

[Osadabwa]

We caught the Baragoi – Nakuru road for a bit to link us to the dirt heading up to Nyahururu. The lowlands are always sweltering and muddy in spots, but in no time we were climbing up the Rift Valley Escarpment’s East flank yet again. I had finally fully recovered from my dehydration bout so it was go go go all the way. Lovely views down to Lake Baringo appeared, and we leapfrogged happily up the hillside, throwing stones all the way.

Above: Down in the valley where the deep mud hides

Above: Rocketing up above Lake Baringo

Above: Neb’s got rocket wrist

Above: Yes, Wry, I am Number 1

Above: Just keeps climbing, mile after mile

Above: Geez, not sure about this one, but at least I’m peeing again

Above: At the top of the world, Wry puts on his best 007 impression

As luck would have it, we were nailed by rain just 30 minutes from Nyahururu. Upon arrival, we got a fire going in the room and began the process of drying out our kit. Neb took control of this while Wry and I drank beers, but he was about as good at that as he is reading a GPS and when we got back to the room the whole place was clouded in smoke. We had several beers and moved into the scotch, happily tottering off to sleep at last after another big day on the Pigs.

Above: Arrival in the rain and a sip of scotch while drying kit

Above: Neb the fire warden… the smoke’s supposed to go up the chimney, Neb

We slept like dogs in the manyatta.

:snorting:

 

[Osadabwa]

It was time to head home. We all agreed that after Suguta, it didn’t matter how great the riding was, we were already satisfied. Still, you can’t just slab it home, so we detoured out of Nyahururu on the escarpment rim, descending into Happy Valley where all sorts of White Mischief took place back in the early 1900’s and beat ourselves to death on the excessively bumpy roads. We were searching for old colonial houses and paused at a couple workers cabins when Neb realised he’d broken his rack. Again. So we paused for a bit and listened to the sheep bells while he farted around.

Above: View down to Ol Bolosat

Above: Just tell Neb a naughty joke to get a genuine smile out of him. He's simple, our Neb.

Above: Nice descent

Above: It was probably 10C here… quite a contrast from our Suguta Valley day

Above: Some old cottages at the base of the Aberdares road

Above: Neb repairs his rack while I inspect the damage to his rim and tire… well done, muppet

Soon we were on the Njabini tar and gunning for home. We paused to fuel up and spend the rest of the kitty next to a very important meeting of the fluorescent order of the church of who knows what and nobody knows why. The road home was hectic as ever and cold, but we zigzagged through the traffic back to the safety of home. Neb and I grabbed a bite and swapped out photos. So boys, when do we go back?

Above: The Fabulous Flourescent Order and their Day-Glo Bishops

Above: Home sweet home… Tuzi the doggo missed me.

Boys, change your drawers and your tires, fix your broken bits and pack your bags. Let's go back!

:snorting:

 

[RobLH]

Brilliant, thank you.

 

[Goingnowherekwickly]

Aah, I have been looking forward to this!
Another excellent ride, & great report..
Much appreciate the effort, & share..
Well done, and thanks