- Joined
- Oct 19, 2008
- Messages
- 15,820
- Reaction score
- 4,084
- Location
- Bothasig , Cape Town
- Bike
- Honda CRF-1000L Africa Twin
With Martins 12 year relationship back home on a knives edge and my temper high after having to unpack the bike and replace the tube in 35 degree heat we head off into the Mikumi National Park and like a magnet we were drawn towards Dar and the acceptance that that lake Victoria would have to be conquered another day.. It was disappointing but part of what the trip was throwing at us. There is nothing you can do, accept it as part of the experience.
Riding through the park towards Morogoro was a great experience and within an hour we were all smiles again. It is strange how these long trips do that. We were not allowed to take our bikes into the main entrance of the park, as the guide pointed out to us the real threat of being eaten by lions, we tried to explain to him that we had no intention of riding through the park, we only intended to visit the restaurant about 300m away for a drink.. “ no sir, you cannot go in by bike..” but you can walk’ now, ordinarily this would be funny, I think we have a better chance on a bike against lions than walking, but in 30 degree heat and having to carry all our gear, we were not that impressed with the young lad at the gate who was keen to follow policy loud and proud.
We reached Morogoro a bit late in the day so decided to have a look around, grab some cash at a bank and find a place to camp for the night, without sugar coating it, Morogoro is busy, bustling and at times quite a dirty town. Finding a place to stay proved almost impossible as we rejected place after place. I refused to even stay in the campsite it was so over run and offered no security.
We did at one point enquire at the Morogoro hotel, but it was simply way over our budget, that being said, after a few frustrating hours riding around and after much discussion and debate we found ourselves tucked away in an airconditioned room at the hotel, bikes secure, ahh, it hurt to fork out the moola but in hindsight it was worth it. I picked up my 50th puncture and Martin had picked up a bit of an oil leak which he was keeping an eye on. While unpacking our bikes we noticed the hotel was swarming with police, apparently there was a conference of some sort going on, we were approached by a stern looking fellow escorted by very official looking lads, he was interested in where we were coming from and going to as almost every official seems to be. He turned out to be the minister of police for Tanzania including traffic.. I wasted no time in complaining about the lack of control he seemed to have on the busses that make our taxi’s at home seem asleep. As we relayed our experiences of being forced off the road and dodging overloaded busses overtaking on blind rises ( true story ) we noticed the official looking chap behind the minister ( who turned out to be the traffic chief ) catching a sweat and rightly so. The minister was clearly not impressed that tourists like us were giving his department a red card.
Riding through the park towards Morogoro was a great experience and within an hour we were all smiles again. It is strange how these long trips do that. We were not allowed to take our bikes into the main entrance of the park, as the guide pointed out to us the real threat of being eaten by lions, we tried to explain to him that we had no intention of riding through the park, we only intended to visit the restaurant about 300m away for a drink.. “ no sir, you cannot go in by bike..” but you can walk’ now, ordinarily this would be funny, I think we have a better chance on a bike against lions than walking, but in 30 degree heat and having to carry all our gear, we were not that impressed with the young lad at the gate who was keen to follow policy loud and proud.
We reached Morogoro a bit late in the day so decided to have a look around, grab some cash at a bank and find a place to camp for the night, without sugar coating it, Morogoro is busy, bustling and at times quite a dirty town. Finding a place to stay proved almost impossible as we rejected place after place. I refused to even stay in the campsite it was so over run and offered no security.
We did at one point enquire at the Morogoro hotel, but it was simply way over our budget, that being said, after a few frustrating hours riding around and after much discussion and debate we found ourselves tucked away in an airconditioned room at the hotel, bikes secure, ahh, it hurt to fork out the moola but in hindsight it was worth it. I picked up my 50th puncture and Martin had picked up a bit of an oil leak which he was keeping an eye on. While unpacking our bikes we noticed the hotel was swarming with police, apparently there was a conference of some sort going on, we were approached by a stern looking fellow escorted by very official looking lads, he was interested in where we were coming from and going to as almost every official seems to be. He turned out to be the minister of police for Tanzania including traffic.. I wasted no time in complaining about the lack of control he seemed to have on the busses that make our taxi’s at home seem asleep. As we relayed our experiences of being forced off the road and dodging overloaded busses overtaking on blind rises ( true story ) we noticed the official looking chap behind the minister ( who turned out to be the traffic chief ) catching a sweat and rightly so. The minister was clearly not impressed that tourists like us were giving his department a red card.
??? 
