iamgigglz
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jorust said:
[flash=640,400]https://www.youtube.com/v/k8QHV6LGaYg[/flash]
:thumleft:
Right Around Africa
- Thread starter jorust
- Start date
[flash=640,400]https://www.youtube.com/v/k8QHV6LGaYg[/flash]
:thumleft:
profiler
Race Dog
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Very nice O0
hats off to you :thumleft:
woody1
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Ons wag nog in spanning vir die boek ook. Kan ons solank bestel ? :imaposer:
jorust
Race Dog
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ETHIOPIA:
I was up before the sun the next morning and went about boiling some water for coffee on my cool MSR expedition stove. It was my last day in Sudan and I was happy I’d spent it in a tent. I hadn’t spent much time in my tent and I was, after all, lugging it with me all the way around Africa! Might as well use it every now and then!
Francois got up as the first rays of the sun peeked over the horizon. I had already packed my bike. We had our coffee and enjoyed the fresh morning air, contemplating what the next border might be like?
We filled up just before we reached the Ethiopian border. We had camped only 40 kilometers from the border, so it didn’t take us all that long to reach the invisible line that divides Sudan and Ethiopia.
We were directed to a building next to the road. A small decent down a muddy path brought us to a small group of immigration officials. We were greeted with friendly smiles and shown inside. No fuss, no hassles. Quick and easy. So quick and easy that I wondered off in search of some coffee at one of the little “cafés” that are situated all along the road. After we’d had our coffee it was off to immigration to have our baggage checked and our Carnet’s stamped. Once again we were met by a friendly face and efficient service. You are shown to a seat inside a building and the officer on the other side of the desk asks you questions. “Where are you from”, “Where are you going to”, “Any electronics to declare?” – and here you declare things like your mobile phone, cameras, laptops, tablets, gps etc.
After the paperwork has been completed, you get ushered to your vehicle, where they check that your vehicle’s VIN number and the VIN number on your Carnet match. And then you’re free to proceed.
We planned to stay over at Tim & Kim Village (www.timkimvillage.com) in Gorgora next to Lake Tana that night. Not that far from the border and so we weren’t in any rush.
Francois took an early turn-off toward Lake Tana and I could see on my GPS that this was not a tarred road. This was an off road detour. Francois stopped and looked back at me and asked whether this was the road we were supposed to take? I quickly made some calculations as to whether we’d have enough fuel for the detour, and figured, seeing as Francois didn’t have a great deal of off road experience…the more practice, the better. I smiled quietly and indicated that he should take the detour.
It wasn’t that bad. Maybe 60 kilometers off road with fairly good graded gravel and the odd river crossing. I was having a ball. Although Francois was a little stressed out, I think deep down he was also enjoying himself a great deal. There were a few deep and tricky water crossings, but Francois just soldiered on right through them. He did a fantastic job I’d hoped this bit of off road would help him get into a more comfortable rhythm by the time we reached ‘hell road’ in Kenya.
Reaching Tim & Kim Village in Gorgora was like arriving in paradise. It is an absolute jewel of a place. You make your way up and down a two-track road and then you’re most likely to be greeted personally by either Tim or Kim…or both, as you’re welcomed to their beautiful piece of heaven. You can choose between staying in a bungalow or pitching your tent or staying in one of their tents. They have great facilities. You’re right on Lake Tana and as a result you can enjoy the most spectacular views whilst kicking back and enjoying an ice cold one after a hard days riding.
We did exactly that and spent the afternoon relaxing. Later that evening we were introduced to another South African who joined us for dinner. Seeing as there were now two South Africans at the village, a fire and a braai (BBQ) was in order. We spent the rest of the evening in conversation with our hosts and swopping out stories with everyone around the table.
The next morning I was up early enough to watch the sun rise over the Lake. After breakfast we loaded our bikes and headed off towards Debre Markos, where we would spend the night before heading to Wim’s Holland House in Addis. We had to take the same gravel road out towards Gondar to fill up with fuel before turning southwards again. It had, by now, become apparent that we might struggle with finding fuel everywhere. We were shown away from a number of filling stations before finding one that was willing to help us out. Seems that Ethiopia has a bit of a fuel problem.
The road to Debre Markos is a good tarmac road leading you through some beautiful Ethiopian countryside. We also made our way through a number of smaller villages. We stopped off in one of said villages for a coffee and the obligatory Injera (traditional Ethiopian flatbread) and inadvertently became the main attraction as hundreds of locals started gathering around our bikes, pointing and engaging in pensive conversation. The children come closer and put their hands out, chanting: “you, you, you…money, money, money”. Though at the same time I’ve had children come up to me and simply ask for stationary! Broke my heart that I didn’t have any pens or books to give them.
We were going at a very easy pace through Ethiopia, which gives you a chance to really take in the scenery. It is such a beautiful country and definitely one of the top three most beautiful countries I’ve ridden through. It is such a rich and fertile land with lush green hills that just roll on forever. Mountains that tower over you in all their majestic greatness and valleys that plunge down beside you to reveal neat farms down below.
That being said, Addis Ababa was not one of my favorite cities visited. When we arrived in Addis it was raining. Coming down the steep hill into town visibility was minimal and the traffic at a slow-go. It all seemed pretty straightforward at first and I thought I’d have us at Wim’s Holland House in no time…until I realized that half the city had been dug up in road works and what seemed to be a new underground train system in progress. I got us within 500 meters of our destination, but just couldn’t find a way that would get us TO Wim’s place.
I eventually admitted defeat and phoned Wim. I had stopped just beyond a big roundabout and hoped it might be enough of a landmark for him to explain to me how to get to his place. Whilst talking to him on the phone, a young boy came and stood next to me. Really close, right up against me. Then another appeared. And another. And another. And then, I felt a little hand slipping into my bag that I’ve always carried over my shoulder, under my jacket and kind of on my hip. I’ve never had any issues despite people always thinking it makes for an easy target.
The boys pretended to be looking at my GPS and asked me questions whilst the one that was right up against me went to work with finding whatever he could in my bag. I didn’t make a fuss. I just reached down, took hold of his arm and started twisting. With a somewhat surprised and slightly bewildered look in his eyes, the teenager just turned and walked away. I was trying to indicate to Francois that we needed to get out of there, but he was talking to two guys on a bike who said they could take us to Wim’s. My inner voice was telling me that this is a very bad idea and before I could stop Francois he was following the two guys on their bike. I started chasing after them and after almost 20 kilometers of riding in the complete opposite direction I got Francois’ attention and we turned around. The two guys on the bike ahead of us turned around as well, chasing after us, but we managed to lose them in the traffic. I’ve heard some horror stories in other countries where travelers had been mugged or had their vehicles stolen after being told to follow someone, so I’m glad we got out of that one.
We made our way and I tried to find a way around the road works to Wim’s place. The city was in chaos with construction vehicles all over and no way of figuring out where one might find a detour. We eventually landed up in front of a police office and I phoned Wim again. We were still only 500 meters from his place and still just couldn’t find a way through to the street we needed to be on. He told us to stay put and he’d come and fetch us. It took him half an hour to get to us, 500 meters away!
Wim instructed one of his workers to show us to his place and left to go do some shopping. This poor man ran all the way, through the traffic to show us where to go and after an eventful few hours since we’d arrived in Addis, we finally made it to Wim’s Holland House. We immediately went straight to the bar to have something cold to drink and then found out that they didn’t have any accommodation available. When Wim arrived back he said we could either camp in the parking area (there was some grass) or he’d let us sleep in his house. He even provided us with some mattresses and made some space for us in his living room. The only reason we didn’t camp was because it was raining. </span>
The bar is like a local hangout for overlanders of all walks of life. We spent the evening meeting people from all over the world and swapping out stories. Some traveling in Land Rovers, others by public transport and a guy in a car who had some crazy stories to tell about how he was chased by Bedouins through the desert in the south of Egypt. How he was thrown in jail in Iran. It seemed that everywhere this guy went, trouble followed. I loved chatting to all these interesting people. I sat chatting to Wim for a while as well and asked him about routes going south. He suggested we not take the main road heading towards Kenya but rather take a back route that’s not as congested and far more interesting. He drew me a map and wrote down directions on 3 different scraps of paper and with that I turned in for the night, confident that I’d be able to navigate us safely out of Addis the next morning.
Luckily I am pretty good with directions and managed to get us out of Addis and onto the back road Wim had suggested. I am not very fond of Addis. In fact, it might make my top 3 “least-favorite-cities” list. I felt very uneasy, even before the attempted pickpocketing incident and wouldn’t go there again unless I absolutely had to.
And so we made our way towards Arba Minch, via Butajira and through Sodo. Francois had read about a very posh looking lodge next to Lake Abaya, which he wanted to check out and so, it was decided that we’d head in that direction.
This road was far quieter and I felt more at ease on it as well. Felt like I could breathe again. We stopped off alongside the road for breakfast at a small hotel, which was really good, and then kept a very easy pace making our way through the beautiful countryside.
When we got to the town of Arba Minch we first went in search of fuel as both of us needed to fill up. After two unsuccessful visits to filling stations I was getting a little nervous. We were told that they might have fuel the next morning. We had little choice and started searching for Francois’ lodge. We couldn’t find the place and eventually were helped by two local boys on a scooter who showed us to different lodges in the area. (This time I felt completely comfortable following them around. Amazing how your instincts guide you!)
It was getting dark and we needed to make a decision as to where we were going to stay. We found a beautiful lodge with the most stunning views over the Lake, but it was pricey. $60 per person per night. I wasn’t willing to pay that and we tried to negotiate for a better price. We eventually got away with $40 each. Still a bit steep but we decided to bite the bullet. Just the views made it worth it.
Next morning we started our hunt for fuel after we’d had breakfast. We couldn’t find fuel anywhere, but a tour guide back at the lodge arranged for another two local boys to help us. Again we were following two young men on a bike. They led us down into the valley to a village and then stopped about a kilometer outside the village. They told us to wait next to the road because, if we went into the village with them to buy fuel off the black market and people saw we are tourists, the price would automatically be doubled. I thought it rather considerate of them. We did as we were told and waited next to the road. Within minutes we had attracted quite a crowd. People pointing and smiling, conversing, frowning, laughing. I was starting to get a tiny bit claustrophobic and then our two saviors appeared with twenty liters worth of fuel in two liter plastic bottles. We emptied the bottles into our tanks, paid the boys (we still had to pay quite a hefty price for the fuel), bid farewell to the crowds and hit the road.
We had just passed through the village when we came down a hill and the most extraordinary site greeted us…There, in the road…not on the side of the road but IN the road…blocking the entire road, were thousands upon thousands (I kid you not) of cattle. I have never seen so many cows in my life! It quickly became clear that we were going to have to, painstakingly and very slowly, weave our way through all these cattle. My bike is pretty loud and I hoped this might help in clearing a path through the herds, but it was obvious that these cattle were used to all kinds of traffic making their way around them. No amount of revving or hooting really helped. I just tried to avoid their horns. Every now and then a bull would bump into Dax and I’d struggle to maneuver as to not bump into another bull. It was chaos! But fun in a limited kind of a way.
The tarmac road ended as soon as we finally got through the herds of cattle and we had quite a bit of off road to do until we’d rejoin the main road down to the border town of Moyale between Ethiopia and Kenya. It was a good, graded, gravel road though and we could easily average 80 kilometers per hour, sometimes a bit slower as we climbed up a beautiful mountain pass and then plunged down into an equally beautiful valley.
When we finally rejoined the main road heading down to Kenya, we stopped off for lunch and refueled the bikes. Tomorrow we start on the notorious ‘Hell Road’ after crossing into Kenya. I knew it would be challenging, but I was looking forward to it!
I was up before the sun the next morning and went about boiling some water for coffee on my cool MSR expedition stove. It was my last day in Sudan and I was happy I’d spent it in a tent. I hadn’t spent much time in my tent and I was, after all, lugging it with me all the way around Africa! Might as well use it every now and then!
Francois got up as the first rays of the sun peeked over the horizon. I had already packed my bike. We had our coffee and enjoyed the fresh morning air, contemplating what the next border might be like?
We filled up just before we reached the Ethiopian border. We had camped only 40 kilometers from the border, so it didn’t take us all that long to reach the invisible line that divides Sudan and Ethiopia.
We were directed to a building next to the road. A small decent down a muddy path brought us to a small group of immigration officials. We were greeted with friendly smiles and shown inside. No fuss, no hassles. Quick and easy. So quick and easy that I wondered off in search of some coffee at one of the little “cafés” that are situated all along the road. After we’d had our coffee it was off to immigration to have our baggage checked and our Carnet’s stamped. Once again we were met by a friendly face and efficient service. You are shown to a seat inside a building and the officer on the other side of the desk asks you questions. “Where are you from”, “Where are you going to”, “Any electronics to declare?” – and here you declare things like your mobile phone, cameras, laptops, tablets, gps etc.
After the paperwork has been completed, you get ushered to your vehicle, where they check that your vehicle’s VIN number and the VIN number on your Carnet match. And then you’re free to proceed.
We planned to stay over at Tim & Kim Village (www.timkimvillage.com) in Gorgora next to Lake Tana that night. Not that far from the border and so we weren’t in any rush.
Francois took an early turn-off toward Lake Tana and I could see on my GPS that this was not a tarred road. This was an off road detour. Francois stopped and looked back at me and asked whether this was the road we were supposed to take? I quickly made some calculations as to whether we’d have enough fuel for the detour, and figured, seeing as Francois didn’t have a great deal of off road experience…the more practice, the better. I smiled quietly and indicated that he should take the detour.
It wasn’t that bad. Maybe 60 kilometers off road with fairly good graded gravel and the odd river crossing. I was having a ball. Although Francois was a little stressed out, I think deep down he was also enjoying himself a great deal. There were a few deep and tricky water crossings, but Francois just soldiered on right through them. He did a fantastic job I’d hoped this bit of off road would help him get into a more comfortable rhythm by the time we reached ‘hell road’ in Kenya.
Reaching Tim & Kim Village in Gorgora was like arriving in paradise. It is an absolute jewel of a place. You make your way up and down a two-track road and then you’re most likely to be greeted personally by either Tim or Kim…or both, as you’re welcomed to their beautiful piece of heaven. You can choose between staying in a bungalow or pitching your tent or staying in one of their tents. They have great facilities. You’re right on Lake Tana and as a result you can enjoy the most spectacular views whilst kicking back and enjoying an ice cold one after a hard days riding.
We did exactly that and spent the afternoon relaxing. Later that evening we were introduced to another South African who joined us for dinner. Seeing as there were now two South Africans at the village, a fire and a braai (BBQ) was in order. We spent the rest of the evening in conversation with our hosts and swopping out stories with everyone around the table.
The next morning I was up early enough to watch the sun rise over the Lake. After breakfast we loaded our bikes and headed off towards Debre Markos, where we would spend the night before heading to Wim’s Holland House in Addis. We had to take the same gravel road out towards Gondar to fill up with fuel before turning southwards again. It had, by now, become apparent that we might struggle with finding fuel everywhere. We were shown away from a number of filling stations before finding one that was willing to help us out. Seems that Ethiopia has a bit of a fuel problem.
The road to Debre Markos is a good tarmac road leading you through some beautiful Ethiopian countryside. We also made our way through a number of smaller villages. We stopped off in one of said villages for a coffee and the obligatory Injera (traditional Ethiopian flatbread) and inadvertently became the main attraction as hundreds of locals started gathering around our bikes, pointing and engaging in pensive conversation. The children come closer and put their hands out, chanting: “you, you, you…money, money, money”. Though at the same time I’ve had children come up to me and simply ask for stationary! Broke my heart that I didn’t have any pens or books to give them.
We were going at a very easy pace through Ethiopia, which gives you a chance to really take in the scenery. It is such a beautiful country and definitely one of the top three most beautiful countries I’ve ridden through. It is such a rich and fertile land with lush green hills that just roll on forever. Mountains that tower over you in all their majestic greatness and valleys that plunge down beside you to reveal neat farms down below.
That being said, Addis Ababa was not one of my favorite cities visited. When we arrived in Addis it was raining. Coming down the steep hill into town visibility was minimal and the traffic at a slow-go. It all seemed pretty straightforward at first and I thought I’d have us at Wim’s Holland House in no time…until I realized that half the city had been dug up in road works and what seemed to be a new underground train system in progress. I got us within 500 meters of our destination, but just couldn’t find a way that would get us TO Wim’s place.
I eventually admitted defeat and phoned Wim. I had stopped just beyond a big roundabout and hoped it might be enough of a landmark for him to explain to me how to get to his place. Whilst talking to him on the phone, a young boy came and stood next to me. Really close, right up against me. Then another appeared. And another. And another. And then, I felt a little hand slipping into my bag that I’ve always carried over my shoulder, under my jacket and kind of on my hip. I’ve never had any issues despite people always thinking it makes for an easy target.
The boys pretended to be looking at my GPS and asked me questions whilst the one that was right up against me went to work with finding whatever he could in my bag. I didn’t make a fuss. I just reached down, took hold of his arm and started twisting. With a somewhat surprised and slightly bewildered look in his eyes, the teenager just turned and walked away. I was trying to indicate to Francois that we needed to get out of there, but he was talking to two guys on a bike who said they could take us to Wim’s. My inner voice was telling me that this is a very bad idea and before I could stop Francois he was following the two guys on their bike. I started chasing after them and after almost 20 kilometers of riding in the complete opposite direction I got Francois’ attention and we turned around. The two guys on the bike ahead of us turned around as well, chasing after us, but we managed to lose them in the traffic. I’ve heard some horror stories in other countries where travelers had been mugged or had their vehicles stolen after being told to follow someone, so I’m glad we got out of that one.
We made our way and I tried to find a way around the road works to Wim’s place. The city was in chaos with construction vehicles all over and no way of figuring out where one might find a detour. We eventually landed up in front of a police office and I phoned Wim again. We were still only 500 meters from his place and still just couldn’t find a way through to the street we needed to be on. He told us to stay put and he’d come and fetch us. It took him half an hour to get to us, 500 meters away!
Wim instructed one of his workers to show us to his place and left to go do some shopping. This poor man ran all the way, through the traffic to show us where to go and after an eventful few hours since we’d arrived in Addis, we finally made it to Wim’s Holland House. We immediately went straight to the bar to have something cold to drink and then found out that they didn’t have any accommodation available. When Wim arrived back he said we could either camp in the parking area (there was some grass) or he’d let us sleep in his house. He even provided us with some mattresses and made some space for us in his living room. The only reason we didn’t camp was because it was raining. </span>
The bar is like a local hangout for overlanders of all walks of life. We spent the evening meeting people from all over the world and swapping out stories. Some traveling in Land Rovers, others by public transport and a guy in a car who had some crazy stories to tell about how he was chased by Bedouins through the desert in the south of Egypt. How he was thrown in jail in Iran. It seemed that everywhere this guy went, trouble followed. I loved chatting to all these interesting people. I sat chatting to Wim for a while as well and asked him about routes going south. He suggested we not take the main road heading towards Kenya but rather take a back route that’s not as congested and far more interesting. He drew me a map and wrote down directions on 3 different scraps of paper and with that I turned in for the night, confident that I’d be able to navigate us safely out of Addis the next morning.
Luckily I am pretty good with directions and managed to get us out of Addis and onto the back road Wim had suggested. I am not very fond of Addis. In fact, it might make my top 3 “least-favorite-cities” list. I felt very uneasy, even before the attempted pickpocketing incident and wouldn’t go there again unless I absolutely had to.
And so we made our way towards Arba Minch, via Butajira and through Sodo. Francois had read about a very posh looking lodge next to Lake Abaya, which he wanted to check out and so, it was decided that we’d head in that direction.
This road was far quieter and I felt more at ease on it as well. Felt like I could breathe again. We stopped off alongside the road for breakfast at a small hotel, which was really good, and then kept a very easy pace making our way through the beautiful countryside.
When we got to the town of Arba Minch we first went in search of fuel as both of us needed to fill up. After two unsuccessful visits to filling stations I was getting a little nervous. We were told that they might have fuel the next morning. We had little choice and started searching for Francois’ lodge. We couldn’t find the place and eventually were helped by two local boys on a scooter who showed us to different lodges in the area. (This time I felt completely comfortable following them around. Amazing how your instincts guide you!)
It was getting dark and we needed to make a decision as to where we were going to stay. We found a beautiful lodge with the most stunning views over the Lake, but it was pricey. $60 per person per night. I wasn’t willing to pay that and we tried to negotiate for a better price. We eventually got away with $40 each. Still a bit steep but we decided to bite the bullet. Just the views made it worth it.
Next morning we started our hunt for fuel after we’d had breakfast. We couldn’t find fuel anywhere, but a tour guide back at the lodge arranged for another two local boys to help us. Again we were following two young men on a bike. They led us down into the valley to a village and then stopped about a kilometer outside the village. They told us to wait next to the road because, if we went into the village with them to buy fuel off the black market and people saw we are tourists, the price would automatically be doubled. I thought it rather considerate of them. We did as we were told and waited next to the road. Within minutes we had attracted quite a crowd. People pointing and smiling, conversing, frowning, laughing. I was starting to get a tiny bit claustrophobic and then our two saviors appeared with twenty liters worth of fuel in two liter plastic bottles. We emptied the bottles into our tanks, paid the boys (we still had to pay quite a hefty price for the fuel), bid farewell to the crowds and hit the road.
We had just passed through the village when we came down a hill and the most extraordinary site greeted us…There, in the road…not on the side of the road but IN the road…blocking the entire road, were thousands upon thousands (I kid you not) of cattle. I have never seen so many cows in my life! It quickly became clear that we were going to have to, painstakingly and very slowly, weave our way through all these cattle. My bike is pretty loud and I hoped this might help in clearing a path through the herds, but it was obvious that these cattle were used to all kinds of traffic making their way around them. No amount of revving or hooting really helped. I just tried to avoid their horns. Every now and then a bull would bump into Dax and I’d struggle to maneuver as to not bump into another bull. It was chaos! But fun in a limited kind of a way.
The tarmac road ended as soon as we finally got through the herds of cattle and we had quite a bit of off road to do until we’d rejoin the main road down to the border town of Moyale between Ethiopia and Kenya. It was a good, graded, gravel road though and we could easily average 80 kilometers per hour, sometimes a bit slower as we climbed up a beautiful mountain pass and then plunged down into an equally beautiful valley.
When we finally rejoined the main road heading down to Kenya, we stopped off for lunch and refueled the bikes. Tomorrow we start on the notorious ‘Hell Road’ after crossing into Kenya. I knew it would be challenging, but I was looking forward to it!
TVB
Grumpy Mutt
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Jo I have worked for quite a long time in Ethiop and never got enough. There is just so many places to see, like AXUM, Laliella and other historical places as well as the start of the Rift valley. Many say the rift start in Kenya but not true, it start in Ethiopia where you can clearly see how the earth ripped open and follow through to Kenya - Lake Turkana(wow and 3 x wow again) and all the way down through Uganda and further South. I hope you have travelled through Uganda, if not you will have to go back up in East Africa ne day!Althoug I have enjoyed Ethiopia Uganda won my heart - DS heaven and great people and places
jorust
Race Dog
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TVB said:
I missed Uganda!! I really wanted to go through Uganda from Kenya. But then I had delays with my broken rear shock etc and just ran out of time. So it's definitely on the cards for another trip someday soon. :thumleft:
I actually wish I spent some more time in Ethiopia, exploring more. There's so much to see and do.
TVB
Grumpy Mutt
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jorust said:
One should spend at least 4 weeks+ in Ethiopa, the Danakil depression comes to mind......wow
I was very fortunate to work up there, I miss Africa a lot.
Uganda was one of the best although the DRC like in the rainforests and around the lakes was also just awesome. Security was dodgy I the DRC. Uganda is just great and I will need to go back as well sometime. Life is way to short!
jorust
Race Dog
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Kenya!
The road towards Moyale, the border town between Ethiopia and Kenya, was clearly being worked on and we found ourselves riding on a piece of tarred road running alongside the new road in progress. On arrival in the border town we filled up with fuel and went about looking for a place to stay for the night. We found a cheap hotel that seemed popular to overlanders just before the border. (I can’t remember the hotel’s name. It’s on the right hand side as you approach the border. It has secure parking, clean rooms, restaurant and bar and wifi. And relatively cheap)
Francois’ bike started losing spokes on the rear wheel. This was a little concerning and we started checking on all the spokes. Some of them were pretty loose and we went about tightening them. He also wanted to fit his knobblies that he was carrying for ‘hell road’ and went in search of a workshop that could do this for him. I remained at the hotel, had a shower and went to find a guy I had seen earlier on another 1200 adv.
The guy on the 1200 turned out to be an Israeli gentleman named Odette and I also found out that he’d run into some South African adventure rider friends of mine in China on their tour earlier in the year! Small world! I sat chatting to Odette and having a beer whilst waiting for Francois to return. It started getting dark and I was getting worried. It doesn’t take THAT long to change a set of tyres. Alas, before I could saddle up to go rescue the Frenchman, he pulled up about thirty minutes later with a new set of tyres and a beaming smile. I think, psychologically, this gave him more confidence for the road ahead. In the end he wouldn’t really need it.
Next morning we were up early and joined Odette for breakfast before we started heading south to cross the border and Odette would head up north towards Addis. Hell road – here we come!
And then…30 kilometers in…this happens!
My poor bike’s rear suspension gave in only 30 kilometers into Hell Road! This meant I’d have to do almost 300 kilometers of off road without a rear shock. It was like riding a pogo stick for hundreds of kilometers. Once the shock went I knew that we wouldn’t be able to make it to Nairobi the next day. We had planned on making it to Marsabit the first day and then Nairobi on day 2. I told Francois that I thought it best if we stayed over in this tiny village called Torbi and then carry on to Marsabit the next day. I could only get up to 40 km/h max so there was no way we’d make it anyway. The going was slow and tiring. The riding wasn’t anything technical but my body was just taking a beating, as it was now acting as the shock absorber.
We made it to Torbi and asked whether the ‘hotel’ could accommodate us for the night. The people were extremely friendly and kind and invited us in to sit in the shade whilst we negotiated a rate for two single rooms. We were told that we’d have to wait a little while whilst they prepared the rooms for us. This didn’t faze us at all and we ordered some lunch and something to drink whilst waiting. Lunch consisted of some meat strips with flat bread. Simple but really tasty.
The rooms were very basic. Two single beds in each room, no electricity, no running water. I asked where I could wash myself and was shown to a shack about 30 meters away and given a bucket of water. I’ve washed myself out of a bucket many times, so this was not an issue for me. Francois however, found it a little difficult. Of course there were no flushing toilets either but a ‘long-drop’ across from our rooms. Personally, I prefer to rather go out in the bush than use a long-drop. I just think it more hygienic, personally.
I couldn’t sleep as it was so hot and decided to rather go lie outside a bit to cool down and watch the stars. Though when I opened my door there was a man lying on a mattress in front of the door. I had to step over him to go outside. I still don’t know what that was in aid of? Maybe some security? Didn’t bother me though…I just carefully stepped over him when going in or out of the room throughout the night.
Next morning, as we were loading the bikes and getting ready for the road to Marsabit, a Rastafarian approached me and indicated that he was absolutely fascinated with my collection of bracelets from all the countries I’d been through. He asked if he could have one? I explained to him that most of the bracelets had been given to me as a gift from someone in each country I’d traveled through. He stood quiet, pondering this for a little while…and then took off one of the bracelets and gave it to me!
With that we bid our hosts farewell and hit the road. It was a long, hot slog towards Marsabit. There’s not a great deal in the way of scenery in northern Kenya. Besides I was so focused on the corrugated road and dodging rocks and carefully making my way through the sand patches as I was adamant that I would not fall on Hell Road! My friend and fellow adventure rider Omar, in Alexandria (Egypt) bet me that I’d fall at least once on Hell Road. Challenge accepted of course! Francois unfortunately wouldn’t win the bet. I really felt for him and wished we could pretend it never happened.
We passed a military officer carrying his AK47 somewhere between Torbi and Marsabit. He gesticulated, trying to tell us to stop. I was a bit weary of stopping for anyone on this road and so just smiled (slightly nervously), waved and carried on riding. I figured that the chances of him chasing after us was so slim that, even if he did get into his vehicle and come after us, we’d have put enough distance between us and him to successfully outrun him. Francois later told me that he was really worried and seeing as he was at the back, he was afraid he might get shot at first. LoL. I assured him I’d never leave him behind.
The road wasn’t that difficult, just tiring and even more so without my rear shock. Both Francois and I grew quiet and just concentrated at getting to Marsabit. Every now and then we’d pass by a group of men working on the road and be greeted with whistles and waves.
When we made it to Marsabit we headed straight to a hotel called Nomads Trail. Clean hotel with secure parking, restaurant and wifi. We had something to eat and decided we both needed some rest and turned in to our rooms for a shower and a nap. Later on we went about exploring the town a bit and search for a few cold beers which we found at a local bar that had a big screen television and were screening a movie.
I asked the locals about the road ahead and how far we still had to go before we would hit the tarred road? Answers ranged from 40 to 120 kilometers! Haha! So I figured I’d go with a number in between and set it at 60 kilometers. Francois was obviously getting fed up with Hell Road now. Next morning after about 40 kilometers (I found the last bit to be the worst of it with loose rocks and some ruts and sandy patches), whilst taking a break Francois turned to me and asked: “How far still to go Jo? This is your Africa. You should know!” In the end it turned out to be about another 90 kilometers until we reached the tar road. I’ll never forget the look of relief on Francois’ face!
From hereon out the landscape also started changing from the arid, dry surrounding we’d seen the last few days to more greenery and some hills surrounding us now. From Marsabit we made our way to Nanyuki where we’d spend the night with a friend of a friend of mine who lives near Mount Kenya. This was also the point where I crossed the equator again, on the other side of the continent! I could feel that I was now entering the final stage of the tour and it filled me with mixed emotions. Though I still had quite a way to go!
Form Nanyuki we headed into Nairobi where we’d stay at the famous overlander camp, Jungle Junction, run by Chris. Jungle Junction had just moved from their old spot and Odette in Moyale was kind enough to have given me a leaflet with directions to their new address. They were now situated at the southern end of Nairobi and we braved the traffic through the city. When we got to JJ’s the first thing I could see was a load of bikes parked at one end of the property and 4x4’s all over the place. This felt like home! We decided to treat ourselves to rooms as opposed to camping and settled in for a few days. The next three days were spent catching up on admin such as washing, and giving Francois’ bike a once-over as he’d be carrying on, on his own from hereon out whilst I stayed behind in Nairobi to fix my Dax.
We met a number of travelers from all over the world ranging from a Japanese bloke on a bicycle, a French couple with their 4x4, a South African bird-watcher, a lovely girl photographer from the Netherlands and a group from Namibia. It felt both strange and wonderful to be amongst like-minded people and our evenings were spent around a table sharing stories from our different journeys.
Meanwhile I had the issue of Dax’s broken rear shock. A good friend of mine back in South Africa and, yes you guessed it, another adventure traveler along with his wife (Michnus and Elsabie Olivier from ATG) offered me the spare shock of one of their Dakars. They were traveling Europe at that time and so the planning started to get the shock shipped up to me in Nairobi. I approached TNT back in SA and they very kindly offered to ship the shock up at no charge! Awesome! So now just had to wait for the shock to arrive. In the meantime I made arrangements to move to a friend’s place when Francois left.
The day came and I bid Francois farewell, wishing him well for the road ahead and said I’d try to catch up to visit with him and his girlfriend in Cape Town. His girlfriends was flying out from France to visit him at the end of his journey. I later found out that Francois settled my bill without saying anything at JJ’s as a way of saying thank you for being his ‘guide’ on the first leg of his trip. Incredibly generous and very kind of him.
I then met up with Chantal Young and her family. Chantal had contacted me on Facebook after reading about me on a mutual friend’s page. So this was the first time we actually met in person. We were like best friends instantly and it turned out that they lived just around the corner from JJ’s, so I just had to ride around the block to their house where they very kindly allowed me to stay for the next few weeks whilst waiting for the shock to arrive from South Africa.
Most of Chantal’s family has been or are currently involved in rally racing. Chantal herself is a rally car navigator and so when it came to having to fit my new shock it was no problem for a bunch of petrol heads like ourselves.
In the meantime Chantal kept me entertained by going on a road trip to Nakuru National Park where I got to view some wild animals for the first time in (what felt like) forever! It was absolutely wonderful and I had such an amazing time! We were very lucky and got to see loads of buffalo, zebra and giraffes and we even saw some rhino and lions!
Riding around in a car in Kenya was a different experience and it also gave me the opportunity to have a look around and note things I might normally not see when concentrating whilst riding on the bike.
Back in Nairobi my shock had arrived and I, along with my amazingly skilled team, fitted it in no time flat! It was a bittersweet occasion as this meant I could now continue on my journey, but I’d have to leave my new-found family in Nairobi! (Thank you to the Youngs!)
I also had the opportunity to visit the David Sheldrick Wildlife trust and see elephants…wait for it…bare yourself…FOR THE FIRST TIME EVER! Elephants are my favorite animals so this was a very special occasion for me!
I tried to delay for as long as I possibly could, but then the time came for me to get on with it and make my way to the next country on route. Tanzania!
The road towards Moyale, the border town between Ethiopia and Kenya, was clearly being worked on and we found ourselves riding on a piece of tarred road running alongside the new road in progress. On arrival in the border town we filled up with fuel and went about looking for a place to stay for the night. We found a cheap hotel that seemed popular to overlanders just before the border. (I can’t remember the hotel’s name. It’s on the right hand side as you approach the border. It has secure parking, clean rooms, restaurant and bar and wifi. And relatively cheap)
Francois’ bike started losing spokes on the rear wheel. This was a little concerning and we started checking on all the spokes. Some of them were pretty loose and we went about tightening them. He also wanted to fit his knobblies that he was carrying for ‘hell road’ and went in search of a workshop that could do this for him. I remained at the hotel, had a shower and went to find a guy I had seen earlier on another 1200 adv.
The guy on the 1200 turned out to be an Israeli gentleman named Odette and I also found out that he’d run into some South African adventure rider friends of mine in China on their tour earlier in the year! Small world! I sat chatting to Odette and having a beer whilst waiting for Francois to return. It started getting dark and I was getting worried. It doesn’t take THAT long to change a set of tyres. Alas, before I could saddle up to go rescue the Frenchman, he pulled up about thirty minutes later with a new set of tyres and a beaming smile. I think, psychologically, this gave him more confidence for the road ahead. In the end he wouldn’t really need it.
Next morning we were up early and joined Odette for breakfast before we started heading south to cross the border and Odette would head up north towards Addis. Hell road – here we come!
And then…30 kilometers in…this happens!
My poor bike’s rear suspension gave in only 30 kilometers into Hell Road! This meant I’d have to do almost 300 kilometers of off road without a rear shock. It was like riding a pogo stick for hundreds of kilometers. Once the shock went I knew that we wouldn’t be able to make it to Nairobi the next day. We had planned on making it to Marsabit the first day and then Nairobi on day 2. I told Francois that I thought it best if we stayed over in this tiny village called Torbi and then carry on to Marsabit the next day. I could only get up to 40 km/h max so there was no way we’d make it anyway. The going was slow and tiring. The riding wasn’t anything technical but my body was just taking a beating, as it was now acting as the shock absorber.
We made it to Torbi and asked whether the ‘hotel’ could accommodate us for the night. The people were extremely friendly and kind and invited us in to sit in the shade whilst we negotiated a rate for two single rooms. We were told that we’d have to wait a little while whilst they prepared the rooms for us. This didn’t faze us at all and we ordered some lunch and something to drink whilst waiting. Lunch consisted of some meat strips with flat bread. Simple but really tasty.
The rooms were very basic. Two single beds in each room, no electricity, no running water. I asked where I could wash myself and was shown to a shack about 30 meters away and given a bucket of water. I’ve washed myself out of a bucket many times, so this was not an issue for me. Francois however, found it a little difficult. Of course there were no flushing toilets either but a ‘long-drop’ across from our rooms. Personally, I prefer to rather go out in the bush than use a long-drop. I just think it more hygienic, personally.
I couldn’t sleep as it was so hot and decided to rather go lie outside a bit to cool down and watch the stars. Though when I opened my door there was a man lying on a mattress in front of the door. I had to step over him to go outside. I still don’t know what that was in aid of? Maybe some security? Didn’t bother me though…I just carefully stepped over him when going in or out of the room throughout the night.
Next morning, as we were loading the bikes and getting ready for the road to Marsabit, a Rastafarian approached me and indicated that he was absolutely fascinated with my collection of bracelets from all the countries I’d been through. He asked if he could have one? I explained to him that most of the bracelets had been given to me as a gift from someone in each country I’d traveled through. He stood quiet, pondering this for a little while…and then took off one of the bracelets and gave it to me!
With that we bid our hosts farewell and hit the road. It was a long, hot slog towards Marsabit. There’s not a great deal in the way of scenery in northern Kenya. Besides I was so focused on the corrugated road and dodging rocks and carefully making my way through the sand patches as I was adamant that I would not fall on Hell Road! My friend and fellow adventure rider Omar, in Alexandria (Egypt) bet me that I’d fall at least once on Hell Road. Challenge accepted of course! Francois unfortunately wouldn’t win the bet. I really felt for him and wished we could pretend it never happened.
We passed a military officer carrying his AK47 somewhere between Torbi and Marsabit. He gesticulated, trying to tell us to stop. I was a bit weary of stopping for anyone on this road and so just smiled (slightly nervously), waved and carried on riding. I figured that the chances of him chasing after us was so slim that, even if he did get into his vehicle and come after us, we’d have put enough distance between us and him to successfully outrun him. Francois later told me that he was really worried and seeing as he was at the back, he was afraid he might get shot at first. LoL. I assured him I’d never leave him behind.
The road wasn’t that difficult, just tiring and even more so without my rear shock. Both Francois and I grew quiet and just concentrated at getting to Marsabit. Every now and then we’d pass by a group of men working on the road and be greeted with whistles and waves.
When we made it to Marsabit we headed straight to a hotel called Nomads Trail. Clean hotel with secure parking, restaurant and wifi. We had something to eat and decided we both needed some rest and turned in to our rooms for a shower and a nap. Later on we went about exploring the town a bit and search for a few cold beers which we found at a local bar that had a big screen television and were screening a movie.
I asked the locals about the road ahead and how far we still had to go before we would hit the tarred road? Answers ranged from 40 to 120 kilometers! Haha! So I figured I’d go with a number in between and set it at 60 kilometers. Francois was obviously getting fed up with Hell Road now. Next morning after about 40 kilometers (I found the last bit to be the worst of it with loose rocks and some ruts and sandy patches), whilst taking a break Francois turned to me and asked: “How far still to go Jo? This is your Africa. You should know!” In the end it turned out to be about another 90 kilometers until we reached the tar road. I’ll never forget the look of relief on Francois’ face!
From hereon out the landscape also started changing from the arid, dry surrounding we’d seen the last few days to more greenery and some hills surrounding us now. From Marsabit we made our way to Nanyuki where we’d spend the night with a friend of a friend of mine who lives near Mount Kenya. This was also the point where I crossed the equator again, on the other side of the continent! I could feel that I was now entering the final stage of the tour and it filled me with mixed emotions. Though I still had quite a way to go!
Form Nanyuki we headed into Nairobi where we’d stay at the famous overlander camp, Jungle Junction, run by Chris. Jungle Junction had just moved from their old spot and Odette in Moyale was kind enough to have given me a leaflet with directions to their new address. They were now situated at the southern end of Nairobi and we braved the traffic through the city. When we got to JJ’s the first thing I could see was a load of bikes parked at one end of the property and 4x4’s all over the place. This felt like home! We decided to treat ourselves to rooms as opposed to camping and settled in for a few days. The next three days were spent catching up on admin such as washing, and giving Francois’ bike a once-over as he’d be carrying on, on his own from hereon out whilst I stayed behind in Nairobi to fix my Dax.
We met a number of travelers from all over the world ranging from a Japanese bloke on a bicycle, a French couple with their 4x4, a South African bird-watcher, a lovely girl photographer from the Netherlands and a group from Namibia. It felt both strange and wonderful to be amongst like-minded people and our evenings were spent around a table sharing stories from our different journeys.
Meanwhile I had the issue of Dax’s broken rear shock. A good friend of mine back in South Africa and, yes you guessed it, another adventure traveler along with his wife (Michnus and Elsabie Olivier from ATG) offered me the spare shock of one of their Dakars. They were traveling Europe at that time and so the planning started to get the shock shipped up to me in Nairobi. I approached TNT back in SA and they very kindly offered to ship the shock up at no charge! Awesome! So now just had to wait for the shock to arrive. In the meantime I made arrangements to move to a friend’s place when Francois left.
The day came and I bid Francois farewell, wishing him well for the road ahead and said I’d try to catch up to visit with him and his girlfriend in Cape Town. His girlfriends was flying out from France to visit him at the end of his journey. I later found out that Francois settled my bill without saying anything at JJ’s as a way of saying thank you for being his ‘guide’ on the first leg of his trip. Incredibly generous and very kind of him.
I then met up with Chantal Young and her family. Chantal had contacted me on Facebook after reading about me on a mutual friend’s page. So this was the first time we actually met in person. We were like best friends instantly and it turned out that they lived just around the corner from JJ’s, so I just had to ride around the block to their house where they very kindly allowed me to stay for the next few weeks whilst waiting for the shock to arrive from South Africa.
Most of Chantal’s family has been or are currently involved in rally racing. Chantal herself is a rally car navigator and so when it came to having to fit my new shock it was no problem for a bunch of petrol heads like ourselves.
In the meantime Chantal kept me entertained by going on a road trip to Nakuru National Park where I got to view some wild animals for the first time in (what felt like) forever! It was absolutely wonderful and I had such an amazing time! We were very lucky and got to see loads of buffalo, zebra and giraffes and we even saw some rhino and lions!
Riding around in a car in Kenya was a different experience and it also gave me the opportunity to have a look around and note things I might normally not see when concentrating whilst riding on the bike.
Back in Nairobi my shock had arrived and I, along with my amazingly skilled team, fitted it in no time flat! It was a bittersweet occasion as this meant I could now continue on my journey, but I’d have to leave my new-found family in Nairobi! (Thank you to the Youngs!)
I also had the opportunity to visit the David Sheldrick Wildlife trust and see elephants…wait for it…bare yourself…FOR THE FIRST TIME EVER! Elephants are my favorite animals so this was a very special occasion for me!
I tried to delay for as long as I possibly could, but then the time came for me to get on with it and make my way to the next country on route. Tanzania!
iamgigglz
Grey Hound
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BAM another awesome post. Thanks JR :thumleft:
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I was wondering when the last few kilometers were coming.
You need to close one chapter to start a new one.
You need to close one chapter to start a new one.
TVB
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Hi Jo! Have you not visited the Marsabit crater? It is as you entered on your left. Pity if you have missed it. I have just read this leg of the RR but can't see photos at work. Did you see the Marsabit Elephants there? You must have seen some of these rather tall anthills!
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