Trials & Tribulations, 18 August 2011
Military style and well tamed by Ray our commando; the group was already up at 4:30am, dismantling their tents, packing their sleeping bags and loading the Silverback and Head Hunter (IVECO trucks) ready for departure towards the Moyale border post (200kms). The sun was rising as we were packing up from what was an amazing bush camp experience; making for a beautiful scenery..a desolate land (brown, orange and chalk coloured sand) with scattered thorn trees
Locknloaded, we were ready to Rocknroll at 5:30am. Unfortunately, Brian had the gippos and hadn’t slept much all night. As Garth assisted him with his tent, Andre fixed his broken glasses. With a delicious cup of cappuccino, prepared by Jacques, with love and tenderness, we were back on the road.
We arrived at Moyale, parked and waited at customs for our passports to be stamped; which obviously always takes a while. While we were waiting, Marlene and Alta were dreaming of breakfast (Muck & Been is more like it), James and Ule were having their shoes cleaned and Brian was trying to catch up on some much needed sleep. Shame, he was really looking pale and feverish..not doing well at all. Of course, we waited outside the office patiently, careful not to frustrate the officer in charge who didn’t want us in his office and ordered only two at a time when ready to stamp our passports.
Once everyone’s passports had been stamped and the motorcycle riders had their carnets authorized, we crossed the border intoKenya[Note: It was the first border post office that had an updated 2011 calendar on the wall. The other border posts we came across, including the one we had just checked out from, have 2004 – 2006 calendars; and yet owners of brand new, quality computers!] We were greeted by the Kenyan authorities with huge smiles. Our passports were stamped and carnets authorized within half an hour..brilliant compared to the other borders.
While the motorcycle riders bought black market petrol (in the absence of a normal petrol station), the others filled up the IVECO Silverback and Headhunter with diesel, fixed what needed fixing and Garth and I left with the garage owner to the bank in a taxi (just one street over it turned out and which I was tricked into paying thereof) to change our dollars and birrs into shillings [$1 = 88 Shillings]. After what seemed like two hours, we were back on the road and trying to catch up with the motorcycle riders.
Unfortunately, but yet a definite part of the adventure, we had a flat tyre with the IVECO Silverback one km away from the border post. Ray left with some locals passing through to get the tyre fixed (back at the border post) while the rest of us fitted the spare tyre and waited. While the tyre was being fitted and while we were waiting for Ray to come back, a crowd of children and adults gathered around us..standing for a good hour and a half as they do, staring at our every move. I started playing with the children (catch me if you can) and then Jacques came out with his big guns..he took out the fake snake and scary masks and gave an unforgettable fright to all the kids circling us on the side of the dirt road. To pass the time, Jacques continued entertaining the village kids and us in the interim, with singing, alphabet and number counting lessons.
We went from the lust highlands and beautifully worked agricultural paddies ofEthiopiato what reminded me of the SA Northern Province bushveld, and on to a dry, desolate and eroded Kenyan desert, consisting of tall, tube-like shaped termite hills and scattered thorn bushes. We could spot little Dik Diks as well as the usual donkeys, camels, sheep and goats. There were very few villages and those villagers who suddenly popped out of the desert and brush..you could only wonder what they were doing there and why they would choose to live in such a dry, sandy, thorny and barren land. Nevertheless, the landscape was breathtaking in its own way, with shades of orange, brown and white chalk coloured sand.
The Moyale to Marsabit road was indeed a tough one to say the least. Ray had warned us about it, but neither the motorcycle riders nor us on board of the IVECO’s could have ever imagined such an intense ride. The dirt road was heavily corrugated, with gravel at times, potholes, huge rocks and fish-fish (soft, deep sand). We drove approximately 19 hours, shaking, rattling but definitely no rolling! We were so hungry but fortunately Marlene and Alta provided us with the little bit of crackers and sweets they had on them. This long, endless road was definitely testing us, psychologically and physically.
Within the first 40kms from the border post: all aboard the Headhunter were hard at work, especially Archie, Garth and Ray (What would we ever have done without Archie, I simply don’t know: our handyman, mechanic and all-around saviour):
– Headhunter: Front right bumper and bracket fell off (we tied it with a rope to the side mirror to keep it in place)
- Headhunter: Lost a jerry can bracket from the trailer which ended up damaging the spring and shifting the left tyre of the trailer
– James’ poor motorcycle was taking a beating on the back of the trailer, slowing falling apart, bit by bit..much to James’ demise but staying cheerful nevertheless.
– Silverback: Had its second punctured tyre
Apart from physical and mental exhaustion, the motorcycle riders were also having problems of their own:
- Two of the bikes would not start: either due to the black market petrol or the fuel pump. Even after draining the petrol from one of the bikes, it wasn’t certain that it was as a result of the black market petrol.
- The KTM’s frame had shifted and the bolts had broken off. While the crew managed to fix the frame and add new bolts, it still wouldn’t start up again. The KTM was loaded into the IVECO Silverback and joined the sidelines with James’ motorcycle. Ig joined the passengers on the Headhunter.
- Five minutes later, after having loaded the KTM into the Silverback, Kenny takes a fall in the sand. His pannier box was a bit bent, but otherwise, he was up with a smile (as always), throwing out jokes and getting back onto his bike to join his comrades.
- Fifteen minutes later, the bikes had to stop because their shocks were cooking.
Despite these trials and tribulations, combined with the sand whipping at us and the dryness in the air, we were making good time. We were a little under half way to Marsabit when the sun was setting over the distant mountains. It became clear that we would never make it to Marsabit. It was already dark when we pulled into a very, very small village..at Guyo Isacko’s Small World Centre. Guyo Isacko was the MAN (guyoisacko@yahoo.com, P.O. BOX 305 Marsabit,Kenya). We were so tired and so thirsty..setting up camp in the dark. He organized us soap, candles, rooms, lights, chairs, tables, beers, pepsis and water bottles. Even though the beers and pepsis were warm, we all welcomed the drinks, sipping away as if we hadn’t drunk in days.
Before everyone called it a night, Brian, James and Ande worked on Brian’s bike and got it to start again (he had gotten four locals to push him into the Small World Centre motel, after his bike wouldn’t start again). Very few of us had the energy to put up tents (Kenny & Marlene and Sakkie & Alta), while others shared a room, others slept on their mats and in their sleeping bags on the flat, sandy ground encircled by the trucks, and yet others on top and inside of the Silverback truck. Our “camp” site consisted of a chicken coop, tin toilets, wind breaker brushes and small motel rooms in the middle of a barren village.
Much to the demise of some, it was a rough night as what sounded like Native American drum beats dominated the early morning hours. It was a cool night with a strong chilled breeze. After the drum beats ended, around 3am, we just had another two hours until we’d have to lock’n’load once again. The road from hell..Marsabit road awaited us!
