2020 - Big Red Pigs in Kenya

[Osadabwa]

From the worker’s camp, we paused for a bit of lunch and were surrounded by young Masai men, as usual. One of the younger chaps (12-14 years old maybe) was dressed in all black and adorned with a belt of cowrie shells and a bizarre necklace constructed of cheap ball-point pen bodies. It’s very rare to see this type of getup these days and underscored the feeling of being off the beaten path. The fancy dress indicates the kid was prepping for circumcision. No anaesthetic, just an old man with a hot razorblade grabbing a pinch of rather sensitive skin and whoop! Can’t flinch! Can’t show emotion! Pour some milk on it and go rest! So, tough guy bikers, who’d like to be next? All the young guys were really cool and then a middle-aged guy shows up and starts taking photos of us with his phone. We’ll call him Dick… Dick by name, dick by nature. He was part of a local neighbourhood watch of sorts and was documenting our passage in a most salty fashion. Ended up asking for money but wasn’t rewarded for the effort.

Above: Just past the worker’s camp, we parked in a sea of pink wildflowers that compliment the DR’s masculine all-black uniform… come to think of it, maybe the DR is ready for circumcision?

The road south was a rock-strewn double-track that was pretty quick going. Unfortunately, MisterE saw his ass in a high-speed off that banged up his knee pretty bad. He and the DR stood back up with nothing broken though, so we carried on, deviating for a quick look at Little Lake Magadi (which, according to my wonderful ‘90s Kenya Route Map is actually called Lake Nasikie Engida, which is funny cause in Google Translate, “engida isn’t found”. But if you put in “nasikie ngida”, assuming it was a spelling thing, it comes out “hear me a dick”! I’m going to need some local help on this one!)

Above: Old scratchy path down to Nasikie Engida

Above: Panic cuts a manly figure at the lake

Above: Not watching where I was going, I stupidly dumped my girl on her side on the rocks. No harm done, thankfully, but a drizzle of coolant that must have escaped from the breather made me nervous for a minute.

Above: My beautiful piggy resting after her silly tumble.

Above: Back up and out of the hole. The grass was long and in seed, so it was hard to see what you were riding over. It was already a lot drier than the last time we were here. I suspect next time it’ll be dry and hot as ash.

After Nasikie Engida, we were off for Magadi Sports Club for a cold beer to celebrate the discovery of new tracks. But, fate intervened. Panic had warned me that the causeway across Lake Magadi had been under water only one week ago, but I confidently said: naaah, it’ll be fiiiine, and we pressed on. I was partly right… we crested the hill and I saw the causeway stretching out across the water, but about ¾ of the way across was a dump truck… hmmm. We rode up in time to see him dump a load of rubble into the water where the causeway used to be, and then waited for an hour in the 37 C heat and no shade for three more loads and a bulldozer to flatten it down. But then, we weren’t done. There was some fording to do. Fortunately, a couple of tough piki riders led the way, paddling through the brackish, smelly water up to their engines. We gingerly crossed as well, trying to minimize the splashing of that bike-eating stuff, and then bee-lined it for a petrol station and a car wash before hitting the club for that cold celebratory beer.

Above: Top – See, it’s all good… Bottom – Crap, spoke too soon…

Above: The bulldozer in action. There were at least 100m of combined nasty water crossings, even after they fixed the gap they were working on. I was the colour of a tomato when I got home from broiling in the sun.

Above: Following our pikipiki guides and trying to go dead slow, we motored through the unpleasant smelling, caustic water

Above: Panic between swims thinking about the barnacles growing on his engine covers… He hates that Magadi water with a passion! Feels the salts rusting and corroding like acid on his own skin!

Above: The Magadi petrol station. They always have fuel, but they close for lunch… our delay helped us on that score.

Above: Finding a car wash substantially improved Panic’s mood.
The beer was ice-cold and wonderful. We rested a while and set out for home.
And that’s the end of the ride!
Cheers!
Oink.
:snorting:
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But wait! Not even close! We had decided to just hit the 70kms of tar home, so we settled in and started up the road. It’s pretty good riding as tar goes, so I was enjoying myself. Nearly to Olepolos, however, I realized the headlights in my mirror had vanished. Puncture… again… on MisterE’s DR… again. And another coin-sized hole again! That’s right… a foreign body had been left in the tire two tubes ago… it was that little washer that comes with some tubes that strengthens the valve stem. Vibration and heat chewed neat little circles in 2 tubes. We had a laugh about that and headed home.

Above: So THAT’s how the hole got there…

And that was the end of the ride.
Cheers
Oink
:snorting:
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But wait! Just on the outskirts of Nairobi we were in for another roadside repair! The heat on the tarmac bubbled off the patch. At least it was late afternoon now, cool air, shade, and no hassles. A tube was found and we were finally free to head back home. Knackered.

Above: Remember, Outer Space is Our Limit at Great Vision Schools!

And that’s the end. Really. Great ride fellas!
Cheers
Oink
:snorting:

Before you go, check out the DR's view of the weekend:
[youtube]https://youtu.be/Jw9LVoEqQzo[/youtube]

 

[twister]

Awesome ride, great pictures

 

[Clockwork Orange]

Man I love all your reports. You really are spoiled with the most incredible riding areas

 

[Osadabwa]

Yesterday, I woke up and just couldn’t bear the thought of not riding. I’d tinkered on the XRR all week at Panic’s, tweaking the carb, rebuilding the brake callipers and installing new radiators and a fresh battery. I’d put on the small tank for a change as well cause I love how lean and mean it makes her look. I gave Panic a shout, knowing full well that a week’s full of nightly rains and an utterly gloomy sky would keep him from coming along (solar-powered, is our Panic). So, it’s just me then.

I love riding solo! Leave when you want. Pick the trail you want. Go fast. Go slow. Forge ahead or surrender… it’s all up to you. No compromises. But, whatever you and the bike get into, you’ve got to get back out of. If something breaks (on you or the bike), you’ve got to deal with it somehow. I’ve been doing solo rides in Kenya when I can’t get a friend to go with me for several years now, and I can’t get enough. I’ve broken the bike and I’ve broken myself on solo rides, scared myself and run out of gas, but I keep going back. Paradoxically, my solo missions aren’t tamer because I’m alone. If anything, I’m more likely to try out that sketchy track I see out of the corner of my eye, or ride a bit harder or longer than if I’m with a friend. Perverse, maybe, but I love it.

Above: Who’s a happy piggy?

I’d clawed my way through Nairobi’s morning traffic by about 8:30 or so and launched off toward our usual track. Today, though, there was nothing usual about it. Usual is dry, hardpacked red-clay with smooth banking curves crashing into embedded stones. Today it was slick as a fish. My half bald tires weren’t helping, but there’s no sense blaming the equipment… this kid doesn’t ride mud enough, and it shows. I was skating around like a dope and flopped in the mud within minutes. But that was the best thing that could have happened. Sliding on my ass and knocked the jitters out of me. Happy to have it out of the way, I proceeded to enjoy the gloomy skies and cheeky terrain.

Above: May not look that slick, but just dismounting from the bike was challenging without falling over.

Above: The gloom was total. Usually, there’s a decent view down-valley from here. Today, it was just gray skies and a hopelessly stuck station wagon.

I still hadn’t decided where to ride yet. I was hankering to head South. Most day-riders do the utterly predictable 100km run up to Ewaso Kedong and back (a sort of KLR-rider’s version of going to Starbucks), but I have more tracks up my sleeve than that. Baby-Head Hill kept banging around in my head. It’s a largely abandoned track I found four years ago that creates a spectacular, if rather tricky short-cut to Oltepesi. It weaves through Masai bomas, past sheer cliffs and bluffs, and drops you down to the valley on a descent of fist sized rocks from which the track derives its name.

Above: Such weird skies. Clouds rolling off Mt. Esakut splatted flat against the treetops, creating an eerie fog on the track to Saikeri.

Above: The evil mist

Above: On the flowy part of the Baby-Head Hill track, unusually green at this time of year

As I’d just rolled out of the sack and declared today would be a riding day, I hadn’t put anything in my GPS. Baby-Head Hill wasn’t in there, but I knew how to find it… or so I thought. I drifted my way to the rocky part of the trail and found that there were many more junctions than I remembered. I knew I needed to keep right at some point, so I followed a likely path that headed to the bush. Right away I knew it wasn’t the right thing, but my solo-riding curiosity told me to see where it goes. The track was really rough. Much rockier than Baby-Head, with large, embedded stones on an overgrown 2-track that hadn’t been used much or recently. At many points I thought: “This ain’t it, man, turn back before you get stuck.” Only to keep riding. The bike and I were both overheating when it finally became obvious that the track was a dead-end charcoal-burner’s track. I killed the engine to enjoy the solitude before retracing my steps, begrudgingly, back to the main track. 

Above: Some views near my detour

Above: The charcoal burner track was quiet and lovely when I wasn’t growling and cursing through it

Above: Me and my steed

Successfully climbing back up the rocky section without mishap, I found a Masai guy at a junction who pointed me in the right direction and I was off. No further detours, I found my way to Baby-Head Hill and clattered down it without any problems. Although it was overgrown with grass, the lack of activity on it recently actually made it easier to ride… most of the baby heads were wedged in the ground. Once down on the plain, I decided I’d keep the ride going and pointed my tire across the tarmac at Oltepesi toward the Butt Brothers’ farm.

Above: Back on track

Above: Baby Head Hill was rough but enjoyable, as long as you don't get caught in a wait-a-bit bush

Above: Down on the plain with Esakut in the distance (poor-man's drone footage from atop an anthill)

to be continued...

 

[Osadabwa]

The ride past Butt Brothers’ was quick and enjoyable as always, with less fesh-fesh and more grass than usual. I kicked out on the “main” dirt road between Mi46 and the Magadi Tar and was in for a surprise. I figured the real riding was over, and I was ready to coast over to Mi46 for some petrol and an afternoon beer, but the recent rains had turned the road to pudding in spots, so I had to remain on my toes.

Above: Why do they keep building these? They don’t last a single season!

Above: Recently, this road was a small riverbed… only a couple of pikipikis and I had been down it since, and it was messy

Above: Then it got messier

Above: Then I picked the wrong line and ended up wallowing in a rut. Things were going fine until I lost momentum and started spinning on the stones some trucker stuck down in there. It was a bit tricky balancing the bike, removing the stones then kickstarting her again with muddy boots!

Above: Still, where else would I rather be?

After digging myself out of my muddy grave, I kept on toward Sigiriani. The road was toast. A shadow of its recently-refurbished glory, and the gray skies kept the feeling of gloom alive. At Sigiriani, I almost crashed gawking at a lone rail-trolly on the tracks. Turning back, a Tata employee graciously allowed me to have a look at it. It’s basically a railway matatu, with seats in it for workers. I asked if it was a million years old, and he said it was brought in 2007! Africa’s hard on equipment. After that, I rode through several flowing seasonal rivers including the big one with the falls before arriving at Mi46 for my beer and petrol stop.

Above: At Sigiriani lay-by, my XRR and the TATA Magadi rail matatu

Above: I’ve never seen these rivers with water in them. Thankfully, they all have firm sand bottoms

Above: At the waterfall, there was water… falling

Above: The color of that water tells you most of Kajiado is on its way somewhere else

Above: Found a new bar at Mi46 complete with pool table and properly cold mbeers

Above: Refreshing pit stop, but the thunder outside kept me moving. It’s one thing to ride mud, it’s another to get stuck riding mud in a downpour

I downed my brewsky and donned my rain-jacket. The thunder and clouds ahead looked serious, and did give me a bit of a dousing, turning the black-cotton sections of the poorly maintained road to grease. I had to ride around a few stranded trucks, but mostly it was just a sprinkle and the sandy/rocky track was primed for braaaaping. Ripping along, I still didn’t really want to go home, so when I saw a track jutting off to the right, I took it, and enjoyed a nice climb up beneath the holiday houses clinging to Champaign Ridge that kicked me out right at Cona Baridi. From there, a quick drop down the tar to my dirt return track.

Above: Above Olepolos on the high-road to Cona Baridi

250km solo day. No trailers, little tar, lots of mud and smiles. Kenya, you’re my favourite playground!

:snorting:

 

[ClimbingTurtle]

Nicely done!

 

[Clockwork Orange]

Awesome as always

 

[Osadabwa]

2020 has been a real bitch so far, but in Kenya we are still free to move around within reason and off-road motorbiking counts as social distancing, so Panic and I lit up the XRRs and took off to the valley. It was a blast, but somewhere out there I took a photo and forgot to zip my pocket back up, losing my phone to the bush. Never fear, said I, we shall simply open up the “Find my phone” app in Panic’s cell and go hunting for the thing. I’ll give you two guesses who never registered on that service, and the first one doesn’t count. So, it’s gone forever and with it all the pics save these two:

Above: Yeah… there were better pics, but this is what we’ve got.

And to add insult to injury… or actually, to add injury to insult… on the way back, ripping up a familiar if totally washed-out track behind the Ngongs, Panic T-bones a dog and goes ass over teakettle, whacking his wrist. So now he’ll be laid up awhile. Hopefully in the meantime the Kenyans don’t decide to put us all in total lockdown.

Anyway.

:snorting:

 

[Osadabwa]

Coronavirus blues got me out of the house this morning. I was only planning to zip over to Karen, maybe take a little loop somewhere. Before I knew it, I was on my way on the backside of the Ngong Hills, twisting my way over to Cona Baridi. I clambered up the shoulder of the Ngongs enough to have a nice view, and then began to wonder if Olepolos would serve me a mid-day beer, so I zipped down the tar to have a lookysee. The place was deserted, but the barman happily served me a “take out beer”, which is just like a normal beer but it comes in a plastic cup. I enjoyed that in the gorgeous Kenyan sunshine and decided to go have a little ride on the valley’s new tar road.

Above: The venerable XL600R. She’s taken me to Turkana and back. Normally, she’s relegated to Nairobi city riding, but if I’m willing to tone it back to KLR pace in the dirt, I am happy to bumble along any track on this 30 year old darling.

Above: My “take-away” White Cap at Olepolos. I understand beer is good for fighting disease...

Above: Funky big skies from Olepolos beer garden

Above: The place was almost totally deserted, but the doors were open. I left a fat tip for my beer. Gots to support your local beer and choma establishments.

I shot back up the tar and whipped onto the dirt on the other side of the Ngongs. The XL is no XRR, that’s for sure, but she still does okay on the rough stuff. She is notably bad at big hits though, so I kept it pretty chill. It gave me a time to survey the terrain like I usually don’t when I’m flat out on the XR. I didn’t like what I saw. Fences and houses everywhere. My guess is there’s been no planning either, and soon it’ll be an overcrowded mess. My only hope is that private ownership leads to good land stewardship and we might just keep a tree or two.

Above: I think she’s a beauty... especially in her red and black livery... the old yellow/orange/red clown outfit wasn't so great.

Above: When I first visited here 20 years ago, there were no houses. Now people are building their dream McMansion within sight of the Ngong Hills windmill forest.

Above: More sign of what’s to come. Stay out!

What really blows my mind is the new tar road they’re building from Ngong town to Suswa town. I have to admit, it’s a really nice road, but tarmac changes a place forever. I suspect soon it’ll be clogged with safari cars and trucks bypassing the other ways down the valley, and there’ll be new villages popping up all over the place.

Above: Won’t be long and it’ll seem crazy I stopped in the middle of this road in broad daylight for a photo like this.

Superbikers have been hitting 200kph + down here, but I suspect that’ll be short lived. Kenya highways don’t stay smooth for long, and if they do, somebody ruins it with speed bumps.

Above: The new tar road ends at the steepest section. It’s ripping fast, and would be fun on the XL, but I was ready to call it quits and I didn’t have so much as a patch kit or pump on hand in case of issues.

Above: Lumbering back up the escarpment to home.

I love riding alone, and I like it when a ride just spontaneously happens. During this time of uncertainty, sometimes you just gotta get out there and braap!

:snorting:

Epilogue: Bloody good thing I went out today... Once again, “seize the day” was the right choice. This afternoon, the Kenyan President decreed that movement in and out of Nairobi county is prohibited. All that stuff I did today is off-limits for 21 days (technically… we’ll see how it goes). I don’t know when I last had a riding drought that long! Anyway, we’re really lucky here to have good weather, big gardens and freedom to move within the city unencumbered. So, no complaints.

 

[windswept]

Thanks for an interesting report. When your kids are older I'm sure pappie will take them on some awesome rides.  :thumleft:

 

[Black_Hawk]

Thanks for sharing and what a nice XL you have  :thumleft: I can't wait to get mine restored and going again.

 

[Sheepman]

Just read your 2020 version, till lock up that is, and enjoyed it  :thumleft:as usual 

 

[evansv]

Great RR's as usual! Thanks :thumleft: :thumleft: :thumleft:

 

[CUZZY]

Just brilliant! Love your sense of humour and ride reports. Keep sending..Did say you are American expat?

 

[Osadabwa]

[member=14014]CUZZY[/member] - More like a refugee, but yeah. Over 20 years in Africa now. Spent about the same time on this continent as the one I was born on. Not inclined to return to the US, but since Africa's supposed to be doubling its population here pretty soon, I don't exactly relish the idea of staying here long-term either... Kenya is the best place I've lived, but if you dump 2x more humans here, it'll be pretty hard to love. I've seen with my own eyes how quickly things change from wilderness to something else, just on my day-rides. Politicians hide their stolen loot in livestock and then have warrior tribes infiltrate established farms for grazing. Every 5 years there's an election that leaves bodies in the streets over nothing more than a tribal affiliation. It's really repetitive and annoying as hell. We're all wondering how they'll handle this Covid 19 shit without causing mass destruction...

But, once this crap blows over, I'm going to keep trying to find the best tracks and blast them on my XRR.  :snorting:

 

[Osadabwa]

Along with most of the world, I’m sitting on my ass at home in Nairobi waiting for Covid 19 to piss off already so we can ride. My one really long ride in a year happens over Easter when my wife and kids escape to Spain and I can flee to the far corners of Kenya or N. Tanzania. The last three years have been fantastic, so here are the links to them in case any of you poor, bored sods want something to ogle:

2017 – Up to Turkana and across the lake

2018 – Down to N. Tanzania and up to Samburu

2019 – Ethiopia Border 

Meanwhile, down in Tanzania, the president has declared publicly that people should gather in great numbers to pray away the disease because as he says Jesus Christ is the antidote to the satanic virus… not science, not social distancing. And this in the 21st century. Alas. Not that he has a monopoly on this well-considered plan… I’m looking at you, US pastor Kenneth “blow me” Copeland… let’s just embed that nice little remix of his speech here for fun:

[youtube]https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=m2s0nB2VPvs[/youtube]

Above: Heeding the Tanzanian president’s plea to get together and pray away C-19, Dar Bikers congregate with bikes and beers

Anyway, I digress. The point is, in TZ, the boys are free to roam and ride as they wish. So, they’ve loaded up their bikes for Morogoro, the new riding mecca for off-road bikers in the country. Used to be you could do a lot of great multi-day riding out of Dar, but now it’s one large peri-urban mess thanks to a seriously unfettered social distancing and the population boom that goes with it if nobody wears a jimmy-hat. Dammit, I digress again.

Above: Out training before the ride to Morogoro in the peri-urban mess outside Dar

So, why am I writing a RR if I’m on quarantine and wasn’t even part of the ride? Answer: I’m bored! Plus, I know these guys well enough that I bet I can correctly divine one or two details of the ride without having actually been there. So, this is my attempt at writing a ride report for a ride I didn’t even go on. I’ve stolen the photos from the Dar Bikers WhatsApp group, and I’ll make up the narrative as I go along. My hope is that after this, the Dar Bikers will elect a new guy to do these.

Anyway, here goes!

:snorting:

 

[Osadabwa]

Thursday afternoon, Scania made his way to Ajax’s place. The gigantic Swede was sweating buckets in the miserable Dar heat, his hairless pate beaded with sweat, and was looking forward to getting out of town. He knew the company was going to suck, but he hoped the riding would make up for it. Having packed Ajax’s trailer with bikes and gear the night before, it was just a matter of hopping in Ajax’s new Ford SUV-thing (a big improvement over the ancient old pickup he used to drive) and begin fighting through shitty traffic to Bagamoyo, on past Msata, cutting off the Chalinze corner and swinging west to Morogoro.

Ajax volunteered to take the first turn behind the wheel (clever Ajax, he knew Scania would fall for it, and it would mean he could have a few road beers as they approached Morogoro) and did a great job of crawling past the stupid police checkpoints without getting a ticket for speeding. It was easy as Ajax is getting slower and slower with age. Scania, on the other hand, incapable of moderation - “slow” not being a word in his vocabulary – got a nice fat fine and cursed Thor in some ancient Norse tribal language so vile Ajax’s eyelids folded inside-out. But, before they knew it, they’d arrived. And what an arrival! There is a new hotel in town, the Edelwyss, and it’s a big improvement over the other options. In no time, the boys were sipping beers overlooking the misty earth below, decidedly happier than most of us bastards out here in lockdown, and sending around photos just to rub it in.

Above: The Edelwyss, Morogoro’s new choice for sweaty, bald, talentless bikers
That evening, the other bikers trickled in for a bit of beer and Konyagi. Lies were spouted on all sides, chief among them from young TS1 (or is it TS2? I can’t tell them apart) who claimed to be ready to show the guys some really great riding. Everybody knows the young guard is full of crap. They talk a big game, but the past several rides, it’s only been the old guys who make it to the finish. The whippersnappers either can’t maintain their rides or just can’t hang with the old guys for the full duration. As if to prove the point, TS1 went to bed at 8PM, tuckered out like a little lamb, while the Bald Boys continued on into the night, riding a wave of Konyagi to their beds sometime later.

Up early (it’s much easier to get on the trail in good time since Benny Boom-Boom stopped coming on rides, but it is a lot less entertaining) the bikers slurped down some version of fried egg, sausage, white bread and milky tea and donned their kit. TS1 took the lead toward the supposedly incredible trails he promised. Sceptical, but willing to just go along for the ride for once, Ajax agreed and they set off. The trail climbed high into the Uluguru Mountains, pushing the bikers through high grass and forested stretches. At one point, the grass was well over their heads and rained down cold dew as they pushed their way through it. In another area, fallen trees presented an interesting challenge, but after years of following Ajax through the deep bush on trails seen only to himself and certain rare species of bats, it was nothing new for these guys… they probably spend some portion of the week bent over anyway.

Above: Ready to go, deep into the tall grass

Above: TS1’s track was fun and challenging, but too easy for Scania who is just as nimble as a cat on his bike

Above: Early triumph high on the flank of the Ulugurus

Above: A bit of pushing was in order

All in all, it was an adventurous day. They were lost a great deal of the time, but that’s also nothing new. No punctures saved them a lot of headaches, and they were back drinking beers back at the Edelwyss in good time. The howling bunch of lying bikers were in bed by 9 though, unaccustomed as they are to any physical activity, but it was probably a good thing. They needed their rest for what was to come.

:snorting:

 

[Osadabwa]

Out of bed in good time, they again poked eggs, sausage and tea down their necks and set off once again to tame the Uluguru mountains. As dangerous and speedy as a pack of leopard tortoises, they raced up a long, quick road to get stuck in and then deviated on what turned out to be a fantastic little track leading up a ridge with huge views down below. It was a great way to start the day, but it would only get better. Turns out TS1 isn’t as useless at finding trails as Ajax said he was.

Above: Morning victory salute. Bikes loving this steep climb.

Above: Ajax a bit dizzy from all the climbing. It’s probably time for a mid-morning beer, eh old feller?

Alas, there’d be no rest for the wicked on this day. The boys kept linking one little track together after another, climbing higher and higher into the Ulugurus on overgrown paths and washed out dirt roads. The views were spectacular and the temperature perfect, no rain meant perfect grip and if they weren’t such shitty riders they really would have hauled serious ass up there!

Above: Awesome riding, run-of-the-mill bikers!
At a certain bridge, the guys were accosted by a pair of pygmy witches. Notorious for their magic, conjured out of the crevices and caves of the ancient mountains, the bikers should have been nervous. If the witches didn’t like the cut of their jib, they would not be allowed to pass. After some discussion, Ajax was chosen to be the unlucky spokesman and the convo went something like this:

Pygmy women: Halt, wankers. What is your business here?
Ajax: No business like Show Business, baby! We are going to Njombe.
P.W.: Njombe?! Hapana, mzungu… hii sio barabara Njombe.
Ajax: Fine, we’re just up here farting around, looking for tracks, making a mess of it. You know, kawaida. Why you busta my balls? Do you have beer?
P.W.: Not acceptable. Let us see what’s in your trousers.
Ajax: Ati? Now, ladies, that’s inappropriate! I’m not like that at all.
P.W.: No, filthy ingrate, I mean your papers. How do we know you didn’t just arrive from Wutang Province?
Ajax: Wuhan…
P.W.: Whatever. Papers, or you don’t pass.
Ajax: (He here strung together a litany of expletives that would crack your screen were I to write them out, ending with…) No.
P.W.: Then we will put a curse on you and your friends. (and they began to wave their hands in the air, shaking them around like they just don’t care)
Ajax: Do your worst, witches! It is of little consequence! We’re already the damned! (Laughing maniacally)

And with that, the Orange Hoard simultaneously started their engines, revving the poorly-tuned KTMs to their limits, blowing the witches backward into the stream with the roar. Unfortunately for Ajax, however, the witches had already begun their spell…

Above: The bikers meet the Pygmy Witches

Above: The aftermath of the encounter with the witches… guess Ajax will be less flippant next time.

Dar Bikers don’t sweat a little witchcraft, so on they rode. Some thought Ajax’s looks were actually much improved by the witches’ spell, but it wore off soon enough so they were stuck looking at his usual mug. But, the riding was still amazing, so they lost no time getting back at it, riding like drunken sloths up the trails, enjoying the scenery. Eventually, somebody realised it had been nearly 12 hours since the last beer, so they pulled into a little shanty and asked if there was any Kili laying around. Luckily enough, the proprietors were well stocked, so the boys spent the better part of the afternoon there before reacquiring their balance and their bikes and blitzing back down the trail to the Edelwyss.

Above: Brilliant views, deep valleys

Above: Bikers looking spry. Ajax recovered from the sorcery.

Above: Wonderful track through the fields

Above: Dar Bikers sniff out a local pub.

That’s it for day 2. We’ll see what bullshit I invent about day 3 tomorrow.

:snorting:

 

[Osadabwa]

Third day, Ajax resumes his place on point and the boys ascend into the misty mountains. Weather has been perfect so far, but the morning is cool and wet, and some of the tracks are decidedly slick. Barely half an hour into the ride, Ajax makes an unannounced pitstop in the bush to relieve himself (you’re meant to crap at the hotel, Ajax!) while the others lobbed pebbles in his general direction. Good thing for Ajax, Dar Bikers throw like girls, so nobody even came close. Ablutions behind him, so to speak, Ajax was good as new and took the guys on a challenging track past deep stands of bananas and along steep hillsides. The slickness made some of the young gumbies wiggle in their boots. Auto particularly suffered on the slick, but the others were kind and only called him a weenie a couple of times.

Above: Ajax pauses to do the twosies in the treesies

Above: Back on track, slick and tricky

Above: Auto (I think that’s Auto) goes full gumby, walking down a slick section

Above: Scania, Auto and some unidentified guy… of the three of them, it’s fairly easy to see who’s the best rider (hint, it’s the dude practicing nose-down track stands, no doubt while waiting for the rest of the muppets to navigate the mud... dude you're with the wrong crowd!)

The riding was rough on the bikers, wet wet wet. Slipping and sliding, they decided it was probably time to get some “fuel” and pulled into a dodgy village for yet another round of beers. By the time they pulled their heads out of the bottle, it was afternoon and they cruised back to the Edelwyss in time for some of the guys to pack up and piss off.

Above: Rocks and mud made combined made it just a little too much for young Auto. Fortunately, a beer awaited at the next hillside village

Above: Despite being abused by a band of merry bikers, the Uluguru mountains of Tanzania are truly spectacular. A little corner of the world not too many bikers explore.

There you have it. An entirely fictional ride report for the archives. Dar Bikers, you bunch of tossers, get your act together and nominate somebody to do your RRs for you! Preferably somebody who actually went on the ride. And up your photo game too, while your at it, I want to see more variety, better cropping, and fewer vertical shots! Finally, screw you guys for having a blast out there in the muddy mountains without me!

That's it.

Back to lockdown.

Nuts

:snorting:

 

[XTJoe]

Superb reading as always thanks- nice tracks outside Dar es salaam