2024 Big Red Pigs in Kenya - Season 9 and Doin' Fine!

[Osadabwa]

Sun is shining! Time to go for a ride and see what’s what down in the Valley. Panic and I met Wry at the usual morning quarry Ngong Hills viewpoint. The plan was to ride the SGR and see if we can click Wry’s shock and forks into behaving better. I gave it a few kms. Shock seemed fine to me, but forks were a bit harsh, and the cockpit setup was cramped. After some judicious clicking and rearrangement of the handlebar position a bit further forward it was a big improvement. Need a couple more rides to get it perfectly dialed in. It's a process, but worth the effort.

Above: Morning meet-up point

Above: Wry with training wheels out already...

At the bottom of the SGR we met up with Snoop-Doggy-Downward-Facing Officer Flattop van der Dawg and Cousin who were out testing their T7s on some rocky ground. They’re prepping for a big trip up North this year, and wanted to see how the big girls handle buggared roads. Both of these lads have done the Roof of Africa hard enduro race, so maybe it shouldn’t have surprised me but they were right on my tail all the way to the top of the trail. They threw those big bikes around like it was nothing. They plan to hunt for better knobbies and want to lose a few sprocket teeth (there’s no need to go 180kph in Kenya, no need at all… better to have more control at low speed in the stones) but otherwise the T7s are ready.

Above: That’s a lot of bikes in one place, at least for our standards. Three Big Red Piggies and T7^2

The T7 boys had meetings to attend and Wry had to get back to his houseguests, so Panic and I kissed them farewell and returned back to the valley to throw stones until choma time. The typical Saikeri-Najile road had been abused by running water, exposing stones and making the ride a banger. This left us with a powerful thirst, so we popped into Casablanca Wines and Spirits in Najile for a warm 11AM White Cap. The usual group of men trying to make sense of our bikes was there in force. They’re always surprised by how small the rear brake pedal is until I explain it’s hydraulic and they they go Oooooooh! And one of them found the shock absorber hidden underneath and covered in a sock. Aaaaaaaaah! Then we corrected them on the engine size (they estimated 175cc)… Eeeeeeeh! This follows with how much money the bike costs, but first I want to know their estimate of the age. 2 years here, 3 years there… when I tell them mine has 21 years, you get the whole appreciative chorus: OooooAaaaahEeeeehWooooweee!

Above: Casablanca Wines and Spirits after a spirited morning ride so far

After Najile, it was throttles on. We were in the mood to ride, not to futz around, so we blasted it toward Oltepesi. It was the same road we took a couple of weeks back, and it seemed to somehow have gotten worse. That is to say, better for riding XRRs. The rocky sections were rockier and the watery sections were somehow waterier. I sucked H2O into my airbox crossing the deepest part (it was deeper than last time), and Panic just managed to avoid it. Took several minutes of kicking to rid the carb of moisture, but she fired up after a bit.

Above: Panic starts the crossing

Above: Panic in the crossing… he had chosen a better line than I had, but the water was still dangerously close to the airbox.

Above: After the deep section, it was out into the usually sandy floodplain which was still muddy and flooded all the way to Oltepesi.

We stopped for another refreshing beverage in Oltepesi before hopping out onto the Magadi road for a sprint up toward Cona Baridi. On the way, we passed at least 5 other riders who I guess had taken the tar down to Magadi and back. Went past them like cruise missles. Adventure comes in different shapes and sizes. Some slow, linear and clean… others convoluted, messy, rocky, braapy and fast. I have my preference.

Back on dirt, over to Saikeri again, up past the windmill to Muturis where for the first time in a long time we were stuck dealing with a very pushy drunk. He and his mate were at a table. We greeted them and went to the next. He slurred: “No no no, come sit with us, I like wazungu!” And though his mate had passed out on the table already (2pm on Sunday mind you), and though we said no thank you, he didn’t get the hint. Soon he was at our table hiccupping next to me.

He said: “I’m Kenyan, see, I’m Kenyan” and pulled out his ID. I said I didn’t need to see ID, but he forced it at me. It was a Kenya Defence Forces ID. Ah... that’s how it is. This friendship isn’t optional. So, we tried to politely ignore him and enjoy our lunch, but couldn’t help but had to listen to heaps of rubbish all the same. For example: “I like white people”, “You (panic) look like military”, “You (me) look Israeli”, “I’m not a begger, I can buy my own beer (we hadn’t implied otherwise, but ended up buying him a beer in the end anyway)”, “Find me a white woman”, “I’m a sergeant, I’m respected”, “You live happily here in Kenya because of me”… etc etc etc.

But, the sun was shining, the choma was delicious and the beers were cold. We’d had another rock-smashing day on the Pigs (280kms of it) and were home by mid-afternoon. One drunk, semi threatening military man wouldn’t spoil that… though maybe next time, maybe we go to Olepolos if it’s late on a Sunday.

Braaaaap!

 

[Osadabwa]

You should tie up with Noraly (Itchy Boots) in Malawi.

Well it looks like maybe that plan couldn't happen even if I had wanted to! She broke herself in Tanzania not far from Mbeya. Seems TZ is the Bermuda Triangle for semi-famous YouTube ADV riders. First Poskitt, now Itchy Boots.

Sijui.

 

[Puls0nic]

Well it looks like maybe that plan couldn't happen even if I had wanted to! She broke herself in Tanzania not far from Mbeya. Seems TZ is the Bermuda Triangle for semi-famous YouTube ADV riders. First Poskitt, now Itchy Boots.

Sijui.

It's not like she hasn't dealt with ruts before, or that she was going very fast or was overloaded. Just a fluke accident. So it's interesting that a lot of these accidents still happen in TZ regardless. Almost like if I was planning a trip to the East Africa, I need to avoid TZ.

 

[Chrisl]

their T7s

Can you walk in and buy a T7 in Nairobi or do you have order,pay and wait for it? Or import yourself?

 

[Osadabwa]

their T7s

Can you walk in and buy a T7 in Nairobi or do you have order,pay and wait for it? Or import yourself?

No idea. Dawg's were brought in from SA.

 

[Osadabwa]

We managed to get together four XR650Rs for a ride!

That’s the most since I don’t know when, and on an overnighter no less! We were dragging along our mate Officer Flattop van der Dawg on his T7. It’ll only be his second overnight ride on the big girl. Last time he went with Panic he lost half his kit off the back of the bike (earning lots of verbal abuse) and got soaked by a torrential downpour, yet he was still keen to join! We set off for a 2 nighter to see what sort of changes all the rain had made to the Ewaso Nyiro river near Nguruman, but first it’s up Mt. Suswa.

I waited for Wry at Muturis with a cold one and then we sprinted up to the top, but not before pausing for an hour while I repaired a puncture. How’s that for an inauspicious start to the ride? Bloody TuBliss finally kicked the bucket, so I chopped it up, made a make-shift rim lock out of it and whacked in my spare (unpunctured this time) tube. Rode into the crater in the dark getting passed by local guys on their bodabodas who know the tracks by heart and sport headlights 10x brighter than ours.

Above: A fine way to start the ride

Panic, Kolobus and Dawg were already at the campsite. Fire was lit and they’d started on the White Caps. But with the arrival of Wry and me, the party could kick off in earnest. Beers went bye-bye and so did a fair measure of whisky. Highlights included Flattop freaking out over the appearance of a Solifugid (aka Kalahari Ferrari, aka Sun Spider) who did seem to rather fancy ol’ Dawg’s toesies. We had a bit of music and a lot of laughs, I think. At some point it drizzled, but not quite enough to chase us off at a reasonable hour, if I’m not mistaken. Let’s just say headaches had been pre-arranged for the following morning.

Above: Banter

Above: Dawg’s best mate. Now listen, Flattop ol’ pal, I promise you, these creatures are chill. He’d already run over my bare foot earlier with no ill effects. They’re wicked hunters and will scarf up cockroaches etc whenever they get a chance. Leave the poor confused buggars be!

Sleeping the sleep of the sinless, we were up none too early. The routine was as ever: coffee pots boiled, tents dismantled, sleeping bags stuffed away, sausages were skewered and roasted, one by one the chaps sauntered down to the long-drop with a bog roll in hand. Luckily the sun was hidden behind cloud so our 10AM departure didn’t start off in a puddle of our own sweat. It was actually kind of gloomy up there to begin with and much appreciated.

Above: Breaking camp

Above: Coming down the mountain in the fog

Above: Four bikes ready to disappear down country

We picked our way down to the inexplicable rectangular set of shops near the Oldepe primary school for a bit of fuel and a refreshment. I hold a grudge against this village. It’s always annoying (some guy once put my helmet on for fun) and they never have good beer. We only stop out of necessity. This time we tried an Allsops Lager hoping for the best. It counts as the worst beer I’ve ever had the displeasure to imbibe. Possibly it had sat in the heat for several years judging by the layer of dust on it.

Above: Kolobus tries to get Mpesa to connect in SCV

Above: Dawg and I are not impressed with the bouquet of Allsops

From SCV down it’s a joy. You peel off onto a rocky bulldozer/4x4/cattle path and start rattling south. It’s rocky, so you don’t set any records, but the place has a very wild and untouched feel to it and there are some sections later on with a lot of flow and good pace. And we were making good pace. I thought maybe Dawg on the T7 would lag behind, but the extra 50kgs were nothing to him.

Brief detour here: Twice during the ride I swapped over to see what the T7 is like and this is my assessment: The engine is amazing. Responsive, great power and Japanese delivery. Smooth as good whisky, but can get angry as a bucket of bees. Suspension on this bike had been done up (let’s face it, if you’re going to ride any bike the first thing you should do is ditch the stock setup) so it handled smaller bumps and rocks marvellously, but it was obvious I was missing 2 inches of travel from what I’m used to. I didn’t have time to feel comfortable cornering with any confidence, but she didn’t seem squirrely, and I was able to drift her out with no effort. The way Dawg tosses her down the road or up a track strewn with bowling balls and baby heads reminded me that again, it’s 80% rider, 20% bike. Knowing that, I’ll stick with my XRR since I need all the help I can get! End detour.

Above: Moving down country. It’s unbelievably green out there. The foliage has grown together completely. Ordinarily we take a footpath down past Little Lake Magadi, but we skipped it to make time and I’m glad we did… I think we’d have struggled to find the way in all that green.

Above: Blue skies, green leaves, red soil and bikes

Above: Dawg coming 'round

Above: My Piggie stops for a little graze

Above: Dust bowl hooliganism.

Above: T7 tearing it up

Above: Pigs on the move

Above: Officer Flattop Dawg Lightyear van der Todger – “To the catwalk and beyond!”

Above: Panic giving it socks

To be continued...

 

[Osadabwa]

Gawking around in search of a bit of shade for a snack break, Panic trundled off a ledge into deep sand and stacked it at about 60kph. Ploughed through the dirt with his face prepping to plant potatoes, it looked like. No zero-till ag here, no siree. Had to climb out from under the bike, but there was no real harm done to man or machine (try that with aluminium panniers, GSuckers). Then after lunch he clocked puncture #2 of the trip. He was thrilled about that. Sensing danger, I put on some workshop tunes and tried not to be too unhelpful. We were in for a shock when we saw the culprit of the flat… the bead was shagged. He’d been given the tyre used, and recalls some drunken tyre changing done in haste and anger sometime back (something about a TuBliss failure again I believe), so we think the bead had been broken and finally pushed its way through. We taped up the area, popped in another tube and let ‘er rip again.

Above: You don’t see that every day... punctures, yes, but not split steel beads. PSA: don’t take somebody’s used tyres!

Above: A giraffe along the way

Kolobus bid us farewell and hugged the tar back to Nairobi to catch a flight. We hung a right and raced toward Ol Kirimatian for more shenanegans. It’d been over 30C for the past few hours and we were ready for a) beer (obvs) and b) a dip in the river. We weren’t ready for what we saw at the bridge though. I knew there had been major flooding recently, but the high-water line was a shocker.

Above: At the Ol Kirimatian bridge, flood damage evident everywhere. Sand dunes and debris for days!

And then we were surprised to find the road flooded and the rivers to Nguruman still swollen. None of it was too difficult to manage, but it was unusual for sure. This place is usually as dry as a sandworm's hole on Arrakis with that river not much more than a cocoa coloured trickle most of the year.

Above: Dawg breaking trail

Above: Followed by Wry who charged ahead in an uncharacteristically aggressive (wo)manner

Above: After fuelling up, we headed back across to find those beers.

Above: Found ‘em… no, they weren’t cold. Yes they were excellent. Grow a pair Dawg! It’s Kenya ffs!

The day was getting long in the tooth so we aimed for camp. Back through the lower flooded roads, off into the incredibly long grass among the acacias and down into a lovely campsite we’ve been to before. But it had changed! The water had come up from the bottom of the riverbed some 6-8 meters and washed all through camp. Sand dunes were everywhere. The trees managed to hang in there, but they were festooned with grass, weeds, brush, trees and the flotsam of everybody who got too close to the shore upstream.

Above: Takeaway beers in the panniers, I'm off for camp!

Above: Amazing to see Kirimatian looking so lush

Above: Camping has its pros and cons… I’m considering bringing along a portable changing room to avoid unfortunate views such as the above…

Above: That's what peak male performance looks like people. Take note!. Panic and I put up tents, grabbed beers and hit the river. The water was really moving. You had to hold on to the embedded stones beneath to keep your place. If you put your head underwater and held on facing upstream you feel like a soggy Superman! Of course Panic squealed like a schoolgirl at the water barely going past his ankles… Up the hill near the tents were some XXL sized elephant tracks. Old boy had come in to scratch his ass on one of the trees. Surely we can all relate.

Night was upon us in no time. The fire was lit with the ample firewood that was positively, absolutely, literally everywhere (Panic, ffs) and we all tucked in to our meals. Wry whipped up some ramen with hot dogs, but not before offering me a piece of biltong he’d rescued from the sand. Cheers mate! Panic grazed a trio of cheese krainers. And Dawg? Well, ol’ Dawg just hit the Viceroy and Coke. And kept hitting it from what I remember, which isn’t much. I do hazily recall inappropriate discussions, brief nudity (Dawg of course, we’ve let a damn nudist in the group), the odd serious discussion, Wry getting pushed off his mincy little camp chair (me this time, getting revenge for the biltong), Dawg barking at the baboons and lots of Panic’s belly laughs.

Above: A fire in the sand near a river in Africa. Can’t beat it.

Above: An appropriately blurry pic of the evening’s goings on.

Panic disappeared at some point, as did Wry. Dawg and I hit the river and I’m happy to report that nobody drowned. We were making noise, my friends, shouting and carrying on. Daintily as a pair of hippos on roller skates we weaved to our respective tents. Amazingly, Panic was already snoring in his. It’s uncanny. By now it had started a drizzle and I recall saying: “I’m just gonna stand here in the rain ‘til I dry off.” Which about sums it up. We collapsed in a pile of wet sand and slept like four-day gone corpses.

To be continued...

 

[Osadabwa]

Morning came on little cat’s feet… tied to kettle drums, attached to the inside of my head it felt like. And another cat had rolled in its own scat, scampered over and tumbled in a patch of cockleburs and began performing somersaults on my tongue. I was the last to crawl out of his sandy cocoon. Head pounding, I walked blurrily, grumpily and directly to the water, holding up a finger to Wry to say “shut the f*** up and wait” and vanished beneath the muddy current until I thought I might be able to face the day. Nothing like a dip in a cold stream to bring you back from the dead.

Above: Wry’s camp in the morning… I’m still unconscious somewhere in that orange bump to the right as this pic is taken.

Above: System error. Processor rebooting. Press F2 during boot-up to access the BIOS…

Long story short, we breakfasted and broke tent. Dawg and I were the worst off, but nobody had escaped the night unscathed. Packed up, it was time to roll, but first we had to get out of our sand hazard. I effortlessly and deftly went first and documented the boys’ variously feckless escapes. Dawg handled it well. Panic had his outriggers outrigging and Wry came on strong but fizzled out midway, paddling like a kayaker in most shameful fashion. See video of shame.

Above: Dawg demonstrates correct attack posture. On the begs, knees bent. Aggressive as!

Above: Yus bru! And just look at the T7. The War Horse. Getting it done (read in Andrew Reiman’s Ozzy Drawl).

Above: Panic doing the tree-branch limbo

Above: Paddling through the waves earning a single fart award (in vid).

Above: Wry somehow managing to roost while simultaneously sitting with neither foot on the pegs… unacceptable! Collect your multiple fart awards in the video!

Out of the sand, we were back in paradise briefly. Look, nobody could enjoy it, we were hungover as hell. So, from here it was like this: Kirimatian for water, across the bridge, down toward Oloika where I get another goddam puncture. Fix that and rip on. It’s slow going through Lenderut Volcano (the dead one we ride through… I found some colonial texts and hand-drawn topo maps online with it labelled) but we all enjoyed that. I took a wrong turn which treated us to 50m of proper baby heads and bowling balls, but nobody dumped it, and in no time we were in Torosei for a refreshing, shade-warm beer!

Above: Wry and Panic in the long grass

Above: Water stop at the bridge

Above: Officer van der Dawg testing out a BRP (says they feel twitchy, ha!)

Above: Panic and I make short work of a tube swap. Had one stupid little hole in it. Don’t know why the OKO didn’t solve that for me. Nothing works 100% of the time in Africa!

Above: Dawg on the horn with his eldest, pointing out the extinct volcano we're about to ride through

Above: An hour later, Wry with eyes like two pissholes in the snow… it’s hot in that volcano!

Above: Wry again doing absolutely fecking god knows what. Possibly checking if his carb light is on.

Above: At last in Torosei for a refreshing shade-cool beer surrounded by thirty gawking Masai men

Ga! The day was just beninging! The Torosei – Mi46 track was demolished, making what used to be a real face-peeling ripper much more subdued. Deep sand holes appeared to tighten the sphincter separated often by lovely patches of big, sharp stones. At the turn-off, Panic pulls up with another puncture. Dummy out, toys flying out of the pram, we get to work in a bit of shade. The thing was cut as with a pen knife, but on the inside of the circumference. No obvious cause. Total mystery. Total failure. Africa strikes again (or Thailand where the tube is made).

Above: Chilling while Panic swaps out his second burst tube… we’re even for this trip, Panic! Guess it’s cause we ride like a…

Above: I could explain, but I prefer to let your imaginations run wild!

Right. So from Mi46 to home we rode on eggshells. Backs sore, heads aching, hands callused… all we wanted was some kuku choma at Olepolos, a COLD White Cap and a hot shower. In a couple of hours, we’d have all of that.

Above: Of course Wry managed to cock up the exit to a riverbed somehow. A fitting end to this tale.

Again fellas, an excellent weekend out. Hoping we can do it again soon. Thinking we might want to put some limit on the whisky, but otherwise we’ve got it pretty well dialled in.

For the non-verbal - here's your video. Don't forget to like and subscribe! Smash that bell! Tell your friends! Tweet Elon Musk on Ex!

 

[Clockwork Orange]

Bloody brilliant ....again!!!. That camping in the riverbed can't be beat

 

[Heimer]

I moved this thread to Roll of honour ride reports. Brilliant as always

 

[Chrisl]

imbibe.
I had to go look up the meaning of this word!!

"they were imbibing far too many pitchers of beer"

 

[Osadabwa]

I moved this thread to Roll oh honour ride reports. Brilliiant as always

Wonderful, thanks! Though I wish I were able to promise better, more varied stuff. Previous years have had us up in Northern Kenya and Northern Tanzania and everything in between. So far though, apart from that one nice ride to the Tugan hills and Bogoria, it's been all short stuff. But there are many months left in the year and it looks like I'll be here in Kenya through 2024, so I'll endeavor to see some more interesting topography before that!

 

[Heimer]

Wonderful, thanks! Though I wish I were able to promise better, more varied stuff. Previous years have had us up in Northern Kenya and Northern Tanzania and everything in between. So far though, apart from that one nice ride to the Tugan hills and Bogoria, it's been all short stuff. But there are many months left in the year and it looks like I'll be here in Kenya through 2024, so I'll endeavor to see some more interesting topography before that!

I want to move most if not all of the big res pigs threads over