CONQUERING THE CRADLE OF MANKIND ENROUTE ETHIOPIA:

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. 

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.

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.

Some of the Damage At The Accident Scene

Sonic was not extensively damaged and with a few inexpensive fixes, it was up and soldiering onward as from the following day. It still required some subsequent expensive repairs as the entire fairing kit, the frame, headlights, front rim and tyre, rear tyre, chain sprocket set, three the bike’s foot pegs, front and rear fender, chain guard, the full exhaust system and the handlebar amongst other parts required repairs or replacement.

Shaken but Unbounded

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.

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.

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.

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. 

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.

Isiolo Meetup Point - Look at those tyres😝

We link up and greet each other heartily. He is dressed like a proper adventure biker complete with a reflective jacket. I on the other hand am dressed for hardcore offroad riding for the lack of a better description and it shows. A lady who is guarding a nearby property points this out afterwards. Djo unloads the bulky tent and hands it over to me. I give him the two jerricans which he quickly straps on his bike as I repack my luggage and strap in on my pillion seat with those elastic rubber ropes cut from used tyres…we refer to them as bladders. We debate on doing an oil change but decide to do it at Loiyangalani. We decide to have lunch at a nearby hotel right across the road. The female guard offers to guard our bikes as we eat but requests for some packed lunch from my “mzungu friend” who pays for all three meals. We eat, take a small detour to meet and greet my friend who works nearby, refuel once again and begin the group ride towards Laisamis at a quarter past two.

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. 

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.

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.

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.

Entering Laisamis town

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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

Djo at Golbo - Ngurunit

Djo's Tent

 The woman, clearly amused leads me to the gate of Golbo Guest House as Djo is left behind attempting to turn his dinosaur at the other gate. He catches up as the gate to the compound is opened for us. I am tempted to take a room but I don’t want to feel the pain of having carried a 5kg tent as dead weight for the trip so I chose camping. We pay 300 bob per person for the tents. There is no Safaricom network reception in Ngurunit so we must entertain ourselves. I had brought some chicken from home but Djo turns it down citing that he’s not in the mood for cold food. I enjoy both of our portions thereof unflinchingly.

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.

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.

D