CONQUERING
THE CRADLE OF MANKIND ENROUTE ETHIOPIA:
Introduction:
Is it possible for a regular
person to get to from Nairobi, Kenya to Aari, Ethiopia through the Cradle of
Mankind and back to Nairobi on a sportbike within a week’s time? That’s the
question I inadvertently answered in the last days of the year 2019. This is a
story meant to take you through my journey in detail and to help you make the
right decisions should you choose to do this trip. It takes more than just a
vehicle/bike to go for such a trip. You need to be prepared physically,
psychologically and financially to deal with the challenges that are bound to
come your way. As much as the terrible roads and harsh conditions pose a big
challenge that could escalate to death itself, I found myself battling a much
bigger problem. My choice of a riding partner.
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| POPPING THE CHAMPION'S CHAMPAGNE |
For those who don’t know about
me, my name is Kennedy. I am a Kenyan lawyer and motorcyclist popularly known
as “Wakili Timam”. I received my first motorcycle on 27th July, 2017
approximately two and a half years ago. I have since covered over 100,000kms as
I have been on a journey across all the roads and parts of Kenya with Wajir and
Mandera being the only counties which I have been unable to visit due to known
security threats. I ride a Kawasaki Ninja motorcycle nicknamed Sonic. I
participate in National and Regional Superbike Racing events. I am the current
Kenyan/East African Champion in all three championships on the track and closed
roads within the 400cc category.
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| Trophies From My Races |
Every year after Christmas, I
embark on a cross border trip. In 2017, I rode to Ethiopia via Moyale as a
newbie rider. In 2018 I rode to Tanzania via the Illasit/Tarakea border
crossing and this year I was to choose between a ride the Victoria falls,
Zambezi river with some acquaintances and an off-road ride to Ethiopia with my good
friend Djo Thefu. God seemingly made that decision for me. I was involved in a
road accident on 4th December, 2019 which caused significant damage to my
beloved bike. I wasn’t seriously injured as I was wearing my full protective
gear. This accident meant that I wouldn’t be wandering too far away from home
because pending repairs, the condition of my bike remained seriously questionable.
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| Some of the Damage At The Accident Scene |
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| Shaken but Unbounded |
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| Talk of Scenic Accident Scenes |
It’s the second week of December,
2019. Djo Thefu, tells me that he has been planning a trip due North to
Loiyangalani and hopefully beyond that. He is well aware of the condition of my
bike being the only person who rode all the way to Narok to give me moral and
other support on the day of my accident. He invites me to join him for the ride
and shares his ideas thereof with me and with that, I start considering the
prospects of joining him for the trip.
On 18th December, 2019 we meet
for the first time with the sole objective being to plan the prospective trip.
I tell him that I can only join him after Christmas as I have my daughter’s birthday
before then and I always spend Christmas with my family. He agrees to adjust
his travel dates to accommodate me. He says that he intends to spend seven days
on the road. My plan is to spend five days and if the going gets too tough for
me or for my bike, I make it clear that I’ll turn around and return to do a
tarmac road trip to Addis Ababa which isn’t so far away. We agree to map our
route such that we ride together through the most difficult sections and part
ways soon thereafter. I leave his house hurriedly to receive my cousin GB who has arrived as a house guest from Mombasa. By the time we part ways with Djo, the prospects of making the trip are quite low but I never back down from a good adventure. I discuss the trip with GB and later on the phone with Tina, our household iron lady biker who rode to the South Sudan border with us on a 200cc bike, defying all odds. We all laugh about how everything about this trip just seems discouraging.
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| The Distance From My House to Loiyangalani - 634kms |
The Plan:
I call our friend John Kimathi
Kithinji, a legendary Kenyan biker. I am aware that he has covered this route
with his riding buddy, Richard Ojany before. I request for information about
the route since it is not available on google maps. I am also concerned about
the capability of my bike to get there. John is always most informative. He
tells us everything we need to know about the entire trip and the route in
detail. He informs us that the road to Loiyangalani from Laisamis is great,
save for the last 20 or so kilometres. He says that we’ve got to carry all our
food supplies, water and fuel from Loiyangalani onward as we are highly likely
to lack them beyond there until we either get to Illeret or North Horr.
He advises us to rise at dawn and
ride early to enable us wrap up our rides for the day by 2:00pm to avoid riding
under the scorching sun. Finally, he tells us to be prepared to spend up to six
hours riding from Sibiloi National Park to Koobi Fora as it is going to be the
most difficult section of the ride. He’s
confident that I am talented enough and capable of making the trip but appears
to be unsure about my riding partner as he doesn’t know much about his
capability. We will later find out that he was right; the hard way. But at that
moment, his words seal the deal for me.
Djo and I decide that we shall
try to ride to my parent’s home in Meru for my daughter’s birthday on 22nd and
23rd December after which Djo is to leave his luggage for the trip with us and
to go spend Christmas with his mom. We are then supposed to link up on 26th
December in Meru and set off on the 27th. We are supposed to ride to
Loiyangalani on the 27th, spend the night there, visit the El Molo people on
the 28th and spend a second night in or around Loiyangalani, ride to Sibiloi
National Park on the 29th and proceed to Koobi for a (the Cradle of Mankind) on
30th. That being the end of the difficult sections, we are to part ways so that
I can begin my two-day trip back home on the 30th, to enable me crossover into
the new year with my family as is our tradition. We are both in agreement. I
have a lot of doubts as to the feasibility of this ride but it feels like a good
plan.
The Preparations:
My insurers have been rather slow
in processing my cash in lieu payment for the repair of my bike. I decide to do
the necessary repairs to firm up the bike’s condition ahead of the trip. I
don’t have time to import the required parts so a lot of welding, wire binding,
tie wrapping and duct taping is done in the process. I even borrow Muthee’s exhaust
tip as my muffler has recently fallen off and mysteriously disappeared in the
last few days.
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| D.I.Y Repairs at Home |
Djo is unwilling to carry his
three-man tent citing that its 5kg weight is too much for his bike so I have to
carry a tent of my own on the trip. I borrow the said tent which he gladly
lends me. I get two 5-liter containers for fuel. I request Djo to collect some
engine oil from our supplier Shivam Vinayak of Bike Tyres Kenya to
enable me do a quick oil change before we set off. I also opt to fit a bodaboda
side mirror in place of my broken left side mirror…I end up unknowingly buying
a right-hand side mirror but it fits. I don’t notice the mistake until much
later. It serves as comic relief along the way. I have set aside enough money
for the trip and with that I am set.
We also share about our trip with
our offroad riding friend Grace Mwari. We had done a 125km offroad trip with
her on her new KTM 790 Adventure, arguably the world’s best middleweight
adventure bike during which she demonstrated her capacity to feed us on her
dust the entire way. We are hoping that she can join us for the trip. ‘Based on
her prior experience, she’s clearly non-committal to the prospects of riding all
the way up citing her unwillingness to subject her bike to such a terrain for leisure.
She’s also doubtful that my bike will make it on the rocky sections adding that
we should be prepared to deal with numerous punctures along the way. This
information discourages me significantly but I like a good challenge and with
some imminent motorcycle repair money coming my way, I am not scared by the
prospects of sustaining a little more damage on the bike as I am willing to top
up the deficit on the costs of the subsequent repairs from my own pockets. This
is promising to be a once in a lifetime kind of trip and I have decided to go all
in.
The Trip:
Things
start falling apart early. Our trip to Meru on 22nd falls through as Djo is
busy
beating
some work deadlines. He is also unable to join me for my ride home on the 23rd
citing
that he’s changed plans and intends to visit his sister. He however passes by my
place to
give me a gift which he’d bought for my daughter’s birthday shortly before I
leave.
Later, he decides to dismantle his bike’s engine to replace some gaskets as
he’s
noticed a
bit of an overheating issue with his bike. It’s a major repair job that takes more
than 24
hours to complete. He also fixes his front brakes and completes the job on the
26th.
After a test ride, he boasts that his bike is in its best shape in recent
times. I
believe
him. I Thank God that the trip doesn’t get cancelled altogether.
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| I took Sonic for a final test ride along the heavenly Mount Kenya Twisties between Chogoria and Kionyo on Christmas Day |
Day One:
Its D-day, 27th December, 2019. I
wake up at 6:45 am but I can’t see any missed calls or messages from Djo. I
presume that the network issues in my village could be to blame. I call him.
He’s still at his Nairobi home. I can’t believe it. Knowing how slow he rides,
I conclude that we’ll arrive at Loiyangalani in the middle of the night. I
request him to notify me when he’s about to leave which he does at 8:21am. I
prepare leisurely and leave the house at around 11:00am.
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| Packed and Ready To Go |
I proceed to Meru town. A call
comes in. It’s Djo. He’s leaving Nanyuki. It’s 11:21am. I decide pass by my
biker friend Peter’s place for a quick meet and greet. He laughs at the crazy
thought of riding a damaged sportbike to such a trip. I know that he’s got
genuine concerns but I live in a world where you make do with what you’ve got. It’s
almost half past midday when I insist on leaving. He bids me farewell. I refuel
the bike at Makutano and proceed towards Isiolo through the Ruiri route. I
receive a call from my biker friend Anthony “Coaches” Muchiri who is driving
towards Kargi with his family. He notifies me that he has just driven past
Archer’s Post and I tell him that I am approaching Isiolo. Djo calls to alert
me that he has arrived at Isiolo before me. He waits for me near Shell petrol
station for the 25 minutes it takes me to get there.
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| Isiolo Meetup Point - Look at those tyres😝 |
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| Mzungu Djo Thefu |
The ride to Laisamis is slow and
uneventful. Djo leads the way as the slow rider always acts as the pace setter.
He is trying though. We are doing an average of 125kph which isn’t so bad. We
even pass a Caucasian biker who’s riding a small displacement bike in the
company of a green Land Rover discovery with several occupants. As I greet the
unknown rider, I think about how we had been lucky to have my friend Mike Runo
double up as our Chase Car during my previous ride to Ethiopia.
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| Djo amused by a sheep at Mt. Olololwe |
We stop at the picturesque Mt.
Ololokwe for a very brief photo session. A local motorcyclist stops to greet us
at the roadside. Djo is distracted by the skin of a sheep which the said rider is
ferrying on his pillion seat. I take pictures of him playing with it. Djo gets
on his bike and disappears around the sharp right-hand corner at the bottom of
the mountain leaving me behind. I am not worried about it. I leisurely change
my playlist as I give him a decent head start to allow me a brief high-speed
run. Five minutes later, I get onto my bike and launch as if on a race. Twenty
seconds later, as soon as I begin to hit the sweet speeds, I see Djo’s bike
parked at the roadside. What a bummer. He’s hydrating some local Samburu boys
with some water from his camelback. How kind of him. I take a couple of
pictures of them and we ride on.
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| Djo and the Boys |
We encounter a Moyale bound bus
which is being driven at our pace. We also come across a bunch of trucks
ferrying heavy machinery. Djo stops and tells me that the trucks are headed to
Loiyangalani, indicating that the road must be graded to accommodate them. A
white Toyota Prado with County Number 25 registration plates catches up with
us. I decide to play some catch me if you can with it to reduce the boredom. I
notice that the vehicle, which is rather slow is swaying badly due to the
strong crosswinds in the area and that Djo is quickly falling far behind. Sonic’s
aerodynamic design make it extremely easy to ride through strong crosswinds.
However, I decide that it isn’t worth it effectively ending the brief fun
session. I stop briefly when Sonic Clocks 45,000kms for a quick odometer
photograph. I also stop one more time when some young herders flag me down with
water bottles. I gladly fill their small bottles from my two-liter backup water
bottle completely unworried about the security in the area.
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| 45,000kms and a Check Engine |
We arrive at Laisamis at a quarter past four. We
refuel the famous Laisamis Enterprise
and Automobile petrol station which is just past the
end of town. I ride back to Laisamis
town withdraw some cash and find Djo fastening his
luggage. We are about to venture
into the rough road section of the trip and so I also
fasten mine. We see the heavy
machinery trucks driving past the junction to
Loiyangalani and are left wondering what
is happening. I pay for our fuel and we leave to
venture into the unknown. We are
pleasantly surprised to find a 10km or so stretch of
tarmac after the junction from
Laisamis. We’ve only got 220kms of rough roads to
conquer and about two and a half
hours of day light. Djo is now riding much slower than
government services. At that
pace, it will probably take us another 8 to 10 hours
to get to Loiyangalani.
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| Entering Laisamis town |
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| Last Fuel Pumps in over 1,000kms and 9 days |
We
encounter the first sandy sections almost instantly. I love riding on Sand. Djo doesn’t.
I am
riding a sportbike with racing tyres but I am thriving here despite fishtailing
from time to time.
Djo’s riding an adventure bike with some exquisite 50/50 tyres but
he’s clearly struggling.
Something is off. He shouldn’t be struggling on this section.
I begin to wonder whether
something is wrong with his bike seeing how he’s carefully
packed light on this trip. The good
thing about riding with your close friend
is that you
are psychologically prepared to live with a
lot of things which don’t make
sense along the
way simply because you care. I am left blasting
my favourite songs through my Pace
Mzooka earphones and living my best life at 20kms per
hour. It’s not so bad…or is it?
I
drift ahead and leave Djo almost 300 meters behind. He appears to be keeping
distance
because of the dust in my wake. Some local herders flag me down and
drink up the remaining
water from my two-liter backup container as Djo passes
by without flinching. I find him
basking under a tree a kilometer ahead. He
tells me that we’ll spend the night at South Horr
which is about 140 kms from Laisamis and 91 kms from Loiyangalani. The proposal makes
sense as we are not
making any noteworthy progress so I agree.
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| When you ride so slow, you see everything, wave at everyone and still have time left to read the 25kph on displayed the speedo |
We
ride on to a very bumpy section of the road. The area is basically a valley
with seemingly
acacia bushes on both sides with the occasional views of hills
at a distance on both side of the
road. It isn’t my first or second time riding
though such an area and such experiences on a
sportbike make me feel BADASS! I
am riding ahead of Djo to avoid eating the slow man’s dust.
At some point, I decide to switch from the
right side of the road to the left side which looks a
bit smoother. Little did I
know that the dinosaur is catching up and trying to beat me to it. I
notice Djo’s
bike on my bodaboda side mirror barely a meter away. We almost collide as he
didn’t bother hooting or even slowing down to let me through. I avoid collision
by swerving
right, right back into the bumpy section. Before I can finish
laughing about it, I see my biggest
nightmare approximately 100 meters ahead.
It’s a flipping delta-like riverbed crossing with
water flowing on several
tributaries. I wasn’t ready for a dip….at least not this early.
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| The Situation on the Ground was definitely not ideal for a sportbike |
I
hesitate and stop riding as I have a serious phobia of depths. Djo goes first.
He chooses what
looks like the best spot to undertake the crossing and goes for
it. It doesn’t go very well. It’s
deep and he almost gets stuck. He has to
momentarily dip his feet almost knees deep into the
murky water to enable him
walk his huge bike through that section as I watch in horror. In my
mind, that
is the point at which I turn around because clearly, we are way beyond the
sportbike
section of this trip. Upon crossing, Djo stops and gets off his bike.
I can see that he knows that I
am not ready for this. He starts walking towards
me as if coming to rescue me before I even try.
That move bruises my ego and
just like that, the thoughts of turning around vanish. I dive into
that river
like a tanker and within 10 seconds, I find myself on the other side, boots wet
but in
one piece. It wasn’t as hard as I expected.
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| 10 second later, challenge done and dusted as Djo walked towards me hopefully to urge me on |
We
ride on. The water crossing has boosted my confidence so much that my body
system has
literally switched into off-road mode, riding so smoothly that you’d
be tempted to think that I
live here. At some point, I notice that I have left
Djo too far behind. I think to myself that he’s
either riding far behind me to
let my dust settle or he’s simply too slow. He’s been missing out
so much as most wild animals cross the road hurriedly or run away all thanks to my newly
fitted noisy exhaust muffler so by the time the tortoise shows up, there’s
nothing but footprints
left behind, which he can’t see all thanks to the dust
in my wake. I almost feel guilty about it
but I know that if I let him lead,
I’ll have to add his misery to the torture of riding behind him at
20kms per
hour which is almost unbearable even from the lead.
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| His speedo was blurred to conceal the digits but you can see me far ahead crawling at his pace. |
I
distract myself from the boredom of the hyper slow ride by riding through the
sandiest bits of
the road as I acclimatize my body to the unfamiliar feeling of
being on an uncontrollable bike.
At first, I find myself fishtailing all over
the road but with time, it all comes together and starts
to sink in. I am
getting used to it while Djo is busy enjoying his best life on the most
comfortable sections of the road. It seems like he is preserving his sand
riding prowess for the
inevitable tough sections that await us. He can afford to
do it as he is riding a proper offroad
bike with the best possible tyres for
such terrains. I am not taking any chances on my damaged
sportbike with racing
tyres. I must practice and so I do.
Djo
changes his mind again and tells me that he has decided that the we are
spending the
Night at Ngurunit which is just 72kms from Laisamis. At this
point, I have decided to let him
have his way as the last time we disagreed
about prior plans, we ended up doing solo rides on
our way to the South Sudan
border with Kenya. I come across some local herders whose
animals are crossing
the road. It takes a while for the hundreds of cows, goats and donkeys to
cross
so I engage the herders in a short conversation as Djo catches up. The eldest
herder who
appears to be the father of the others doesn’t speak Swahili so the
daughters translate our
conversation. They are curious about the reason behind
our trip.
 |
| The Curious Elderly Man and his daughters in the background who would translate our conversation. |
We
are 22kms from our destination for the day when we enter the small town of
Namarei. It’s a
few minutes past 6pm and darkness is setting in. We’ve been
riding for over two hours and we
hadn’t covered 50kms until this point. I take
comfort in the fact that I have had the chance to
enjoy the beautiful scenery
and a few wild animals before dark. Djo, who is still lagging behind
turn off the road and rides towards some people for some deliberations. I make a U-turn
and
join him. A local man approaches me and asks about our destination. He tells
me about a
certain junction a few kilometres ahead of us which separates the
highway to Loiyangalani via
Illaut and the not so good road to Ngurunit. Djo
and I have a minor disagreement on the final
destination. I suggest that we
take the “highway” route and spend the night at Illaut, some
39kms away (via
Ngurunit according to google maps which clearly doesn’t have information
on the
direct route from Namarei to Illaut via the “highway”) but Djo wants to take
the shorter
unchartered road to Ngurunit, some 22kms away citing fatigue so we
agree to go to Ngurunit.
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| If you turn left at the junction, you'll leave the highway and go to Ngurunit. |
I
lead the way. We get to the junction and I unwillingly leave a well graded road
to join a shady
looking footpath all in the name of team work. The “highway”
route disappears from google
maps at that point so inconveniently. Everything
goes downhill from there. The rest of the way
is pretty much nothing but an
open storage for deep fine soil and deep sand. Only one of us has
been preparing to ride under such conditions and it shows almost instantly. I spend
most of
the one and a half hours it takes us to get to Ngurunit riding back and
forth, shutting the bike
down as I wait and to to help Djo pick up his bike
whenever he drops it.
At
some point, a couple on a quadbike catch up with me as I wait for Djo to cross
a long stretch
of fine sand and they stop ask me why I brought my friend there.
That’s when I realize that we
are struggling in the middle of a thicket that’s
not so far from the infamous Baragoi area in
pitch darkness and our security
could be a cause for concern. I share my sentiments with Djo
but he seems more
concerned about how his GPS unit keeps getting the remaining distance
wrong. No words can express the joy I feel on seeing the first set of security lights
upon our
arrival in Ngurunit.
Djo
sees a sign post written Golbo Guest House. He avoids the sandy road to which
the sign
leads and instead leads us to another junction a few meters ahead
where we come across a
few people selling some products from the trunk of a
Toyota Probox. I stop at an unmarked
gate as Djo asks the Probox trunk
merchants for directions. He turns around, goes back to the
sandy road next to the signpost and rides up to the unmarked gate where I had been waiting at
which point a woman comes from within the compound to greet us. “Globo ni
wapi?” Djo
shouts at the woman. “Tunatafuta Goblo” he repeats as I burst into
laughter. When Djo gets
tired, he becomes an absolute clown. On some occasions,
it’s interesting while on others, it’s a
nightmare. This is one of the interesting
moments.
Arrival Golbo - Ngurunit
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| Djo at Golbo - Ngurunit |
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| Djo's Tent |
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| My tent |
Djo orders some fried meat with ugali. We pitch our tents as we await the food. Being my first time, Djo shows me how to set up the tent. I keep my noisy bike running through out the pitch tenting lessons for lighting. It goes well. I take a shower, eat the food ordered by Djo which also turns out to have been served cold. The sky is so clear and beautiful. Since Northern Kenya is sparsely populated and not grossly polluted, the view of the stars is simply breath taking. We even forget the evening’s trouble as we discuss the merits of being in such a place. At some point we discuss constellations as Djo keenly identifies Orion’s belt. We agree to depart at dawn the following day. My mind is so clear by the time we retire to our respective tents for the night. So far, the trip has been worth it and I can afford a genuine smile.
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| Me in my tent |
DAY
TWO:
 |
| Day Break |
I
wake up at a quarter to 5am. I am programmed to sleep for six hours tops and I slept
a bit too early last night. I have no network or internet access so I am unable
to research online or initiate conversations about our trip online. I attempt
to entertain myself with the contents my phone until daybreak. I wait for Djo
to wake up and give me the engine oil to enable me perform a quick oil change
which goes well. We take breakfast lazily as we enjoy bird watching and the
sunrise which comes in rather late because Ngurunit is surrounded by high
hills. The camping, the dinner and breakfast costs us a combined amount of
Kshs.1,520/=. I find that rather amusing as I clear the bill.
 |
| Bush Garage Oil Change |
 |
| Sunrise at 8:30am |
It’s
almost 9:00am when we finally finish packing our luggage. Loiyangalani is
approximately 161kms away. Djo leaves me at the camp as I fasten my luggage. I
find him outside a kiosk in Ngurunit township where I also stop and buy three
liters of water. We refill our camelbacks with the water and set off. I take a
wrong turn but I stop to ask for directions from some locals who gladly direct
us. We leave the township through a scenic route which doesn’t have any signs
of recent tyre tracks. We come across several groups of herders with some
waving back at us while others give us some intimidating gaze as they disregard
our emphatic greetings.
 |
| As we ride through a sandy road, I spot a pretty good looking hill on the left |
We
soldier on and venture into a thicket filled area with numerous peculiar
footprints and giant poop. It isn’t until I notice a bunch of elephants grazing
less than 50 meters away from the road that it hits me that that’s not camel
poo/prints. I panic and hurriedly ride past Djo who has been leading the way for
most of the morning. We keep going for almost one hour at which point I notice
an interesting rock formation which I stop to capture on my camera phone. Djo
follows suit. The area is quite cool so the slow riding doesn’t feel so bad yet.
 |
| I stop a few minutes later to do it justice for your viewing pleasure |
I keep either dashing ahead and waiting for Djo within a cool shade or give him a head start and play catch up. All goes well until we get to a sandy stretch where Djo goes down with his foot trapped under his heavy bike. I hurriedly turn around and help him out hoping that he isn’t badly injured. I am relieved to find out that his steel reinforced riding boot has saved him form a potentially nasty injury situation. I give him tips on how to ride on sand and he ignores me as usual. That is the first time we get to see just how badly exposed we are as we do not have access to any emergency evacuation facilities and there’s no network coverage in the area. From this point onward, Djo almost literally walks his bike whenever we encounter a sand section. He is clearly unwilling to learn how to ride on sand despite the fact that we’ve been warned about a really sandy section between the entrance to the Sibiloi National Park and Koobi Fora.
We
get to Illaut at a few minutes past 10am. I am welcomed by a dog which runs
alongside my bike for almost 100 meters. We join a graded road which lies at
the end of a dry riverbed. I initially misconstrue it to be the “main highway”
from which we had diverted on the previous evening. I stop under the shade of a
tree to check on google maps. It appears that the junction is from the road to
a place called Korr which my friend Coaches had mentioned yesterday as he tried
to explain the route which he’d taken towards Kargi.
I
decide to talk to a young boy who has been admiring my bike from a few meters
away with his goats leaving him behind, clearly uninterested in the sight. He
tells me that the “highway” is a few meters in the opposite direction and that
there is mobile phone network on the other side of the hill along the highway.
I thank him, restart my bike and speed on to catch up with Djo and share the
information. I find him waiting under a tree with his phone in hand. I tell him
about the highway and the network but he seems disinterested. The back route
through Ngurunit has been heavenly in terms of the scenery and the varying
types of riding surfaces and today, my strategy has been paying off. Having
changed oil in the morning, the bike is significantly smoother than before and
I am loving it. We proceed towards South Horr, some 51kms ahead.
I either give Djo a healthy headstart by
stopping to take pictures with my phone or choosing a new music playlist for every
two hours of riding after which I play a slightly risky yet satisfying game of catch
up or ride ahead at my pace and stop at the beginning or the end of lengthy sandy
sections where the dinosaur has been habitually going down. After the risky
fall, Djo understandably rides much slower so we take almost 4 hours to cover
the 70km section.
Elite
marathon runners complete a 42km section within between I:59:40 hours to 2 hours
and 30 minutes. I don’t wish to sound petty but to enable you get a clearer picture,
we have been riding under the scorching sun at less than half of Kipchoge Keino’s
marathon pace and the road is not that bad. When I urge Djo to at least try and
learn how to ride on the sand instead of walking the bike through vast sandy
sections, he gets steamy, defensive and condescending. Walking his almost 300kg
is draining him badly and what should be an easy ride even on a sportbike with unsuitable
tyres is turning out to be a grueling ride for him. Djo is a strong man. He’s
taller than me, more masculine and for some TMI, he does regular morning runs, Abs
workouts etc to enhance his fitness and it shows. But no man can push 300kgs
around for hour under the North Kenya sun and get away with it.
We
arrive at South Horr at around 1:00pm. I am pleased to be back within a mobile
network coverage area and I call my daughter, mother, brother, sister and dad
in that order to update them on our progress. Djo looks for a shop to buy soda
and asks me to add some money to buy myself some. I pour my 350ml Sprite into
the remaining water in my camel back to improve its taste. During the four-hour
ride, the intense heat has been busy trying to boil the water in our camelbacks
and swallowing warm water in a hot area is loathsome.
Djo
suggests that we have lunch at South Horr. The locals direct us to a part of
town where we can have lunch but notify us that we’ll have to place an order
for whatever we wish to eat and wait for it to be prepared. With our slow
progress in mind and the scare of riding through the toughest section of the
day in the dark looming through my mind, I suggest to Djo that we should ride
on, join the “highway” and eat at Loiyangalani (91kms ahead) as we rest instead
of wasting precious daylight waiting for animals to be slaughtered and cooked
for us. He agrees. We leave South Horr soon thereafter and ride on.
The
ride between South Horr to the Lake Turkana wind farm is the smoothest in our
entire offroad journey. Djo tackles all the sandy sections so fluidly and when we
join the “highway”, we cruise for the first time in since we left the tarmac
road a few kilometers past Laisamis. The road is smooth and some sections are
almost as smooth as tarmac roads. We are able to cover about 60 of the 91kms by
2:27pm when we stop at the last row of the Lake Turkana Wind Power wind mills
for what ends up becoming a 30-minute photo session. I get an opportunity to interact
with one of the Vestas Company technicians who tells me that there is a total
of 365 wind mills in that windfarm with a maximum capacity to generate 310 megawatts
of electricity which is fed to the national grid through the Suswa power
station. He however adds that the farm was currently on some sort of recess
following the overflow of the water reservoirs within the seven folks dams.
Vestas is the private company which own the windfarm project.
We
ride on. The “highway” ends unceremoniously with a small gate which marks the
end of the wind power land area. I am disappointed by what appears to be an
apparent result of capitalism…improve a 208km stretch of road to a windfarm in
the middle of nowhere but not find it worthwhile to extend the project to the
nearby populated town of Loiyangalani, less than 23kms ahead…it will take us
more than 90 minutes to cover that last stony 23km section but before we get to
that, let me tell you about the highlight of the day. The moment when you turn
left around a small hill to see the beautiful escarpment and the first glimpse of
Lake Turkana.
There
is something magnificent about the first sight of most large water bodies but this
particular sight of the lower end of Lake Turkana is one of the best views you’ll
come across in the middle of the most unexpected areas. One moment, you are
riding through a barren rocky area and the next, a beautiful lake with a fantastic
Island appears almost as if it fell straight down from the skies. Getting to
that hellish, bumpy, rocky ride down the lake Turkana escarpment which broke
the wires binding my bike’s exhaust pipe and almost tore my bike apart was the
most worthwhile, fulfilling, satisfying, rewarding, you name it, milestone of
the day.
The
beautiful pictures and videos I have of it are nothing compared to the actual experience
of being there. It is most definitely one of the reasons why I will redo this
trip. I find myself vlogging, doing a live commentary as my GoPro captures the
ride down the escarpment in a desperate bid to capture the emotions of the moment
on video and having watched that video as I type this, it still doesn’t feel
anything like the actual experience. Anyone who has been to Loiyangalani will collaborate
this information. If you are into adventure and have a bucket list, please add
a trip to Loiyangalani and get to savor that moment before you die. It won’t disappoint.
The
rocky road lies barely 100 meters from the edges of the lake. You have the
beautiful view of the lake on your left side as you head towards Loiyangalani
and a set of rocky hills and vast barren lands on your right. It’s
unbelievable. There are a few manyattas withing the 23kms sections and from
time to time, you might come across herds of domestic animals being walked from
the vast barren rocky sections towards the lake for a quick drink, something
which left me wondering whether those herders perform the miracle of changing
rocks into fodder to feed there numerous, healthy looking goats.
I
really struggle through the rocks as my tyres and the unprotected belly of my
sportbike remain terribly exposed to that one well inconveniently well-timed Blow
which tears something sensitive and ends ones trip. I stop to get a spare wire
from my bag which I use to fasten my exhaust pipe to the swing arm like any dumbass
and three minutes later, my only spare wire is toast. Apparently, swingarms
move up and down and are not ideal for fastening solid/immovable things…I learn
the hard way.
Djo
catches up and laughs at me asking me what I was thinking. He leaves me behind
with a badly cracked exhaust pipe and no assistance whatsoever. I sacrifice one
of my bag’s straps hoping that the exhaust pipe’s heat won’t burn through it so
fast but it only holds for about 3kms. I then sacrifice my GoPro camera’s
charging cable which holds for another few kms before being burnt off. I arrive
at Loiyangalani with a leaking exhaust pipe and the bike sounding like a broken
helicopter. My tyres take a serious toll on the rocky section and leave me well
aware of the imminent risk of getting torn or sustaining multiple punctures.
At
Loiyangalani, we stop at a dry riverbed. We are greeted by a bunch of very
smart kids who explain the area to us in detail. They suggest a nearby nice
place to sleep known as Palm Shade and also point me towards a garage and the
only fuel merchants in the area. Some adults join us and reiterate what the
enthusiastic kids had told us. I already love the energy of these people and
how nice and friendly they are. We turn around and return to the fuel shop. It
is a funny looking structure which in my village would be the equivalent of a shoddy
chicken house. It is locked. Through the mesh, I am able to see barrels which I
presume are filled with fuel and I am amazed at how such a precious commodity
is stored in a rather “insecure” facility. The security in this area must be
really good. People around here must be quite honest and if that’s the case, those
are my kind of people and I love it here.
My
bike is filled up with 11 “liters” of fuel at 150kshs a liter. Djo’s bike uses
20 liters. I want to by the spare fuel with the two jerricans but Djo shuts the
idea down insisting that we’d return on the following day. We are a day behind
schedule and from the look of things, we will be spending the following day as
a rest day while touring Loiyangalani and a village called Komote which Djo had
mentioned as part of his plans. I am worried that I could end up spending new
years away from my family for only the second the time in my life. The only
other time being the one time I had to be away with my girlfriend. I am a
family guy and these family traditions are usually quite important to me. I
mention this to Djo but he couldn’t care less as he simply rides off and leaves
meat the fueling shop, having paid for both of us. I am not happy the
communication but I am not quick with my emotions.
I
trace and follow Djo’s tyre tracks to the Palm Shade hotel where I find him
waiting for me outside the gate. I almost get lost at some point because there
are no tracks to follow on rocks. We both ride into the compound which I can
only describe as the the greenest place I had seen since I left my village home
in Meru. The hotel is comprised of some well catered for grass and palm trees
and from within the compound, you wouldn’t believe that you are within an arid
area. There is a vast contrast with everything else that lies outside that
compound. Let the pictures attached below help me with the description.
At
around 5:34pm, we are received by an elderly but way too polite chef who thanks
to my memory deficiency we’ll call Alberto. He advises us to place an order for
our meals early as we offload our bikes and settle in so that the meal can be
ready by 7pm. We order the biggest fish they’vr got with ugali and a side of
vegetables for 500bob a person. It remains my most memorable fish meal of all
time, despite having dined at many fine and kibanda fish joints across the
country, a meal so good that I had the exact meal on the following day just
confirm that my praises hadn’t been tainted by the influence of day’s
struggles. If you ever make your way to Loiyangalani, please pass by the Palm
Shade Hotel and try their wet fry fish in sauce. If you don’t like it, feel
free to look for me and bite me.
We
offload our gear into a small hut. The charges for sleeping in the hut are
similar to the camping fees but the hut comes with a light bulb, a functional
electricity socket, a mosquito net and a comfy mattress. There’s no way I am
choosing a tent over this. Djo tells me that he can’t share a room with me
because I am always on my phone and my noise won’t let him sleep. He also
claims that the tent will be too hot so he’s rather sleep outside in his tent.
With my stomach full, a long cold shower taken, my battery charged and 4G
internet at my service, I spend the rest of the evening living my best life on
the internet sharing about the trip with my real and virtual friends alike. It
sounds like it’s raining heavily outside throughout the night and I tell myself
that Djo’s tent must be as waterproof as his boots which he’d been bragging
about all day. I later doze off and sleep like a baby.
