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Published: January 6th 2008
EAST COAST IS THE MOST
Well, not exactly the east coast but more like East Africa that has an abundant supply of activities for the unsuspecting tourist to spend their hard earned money on! Not that this is a bad thing, it’s just hard to justify spending US$ 400 per day per vehicle to cross through the Ngorogoro Crater National Park for example!
Well, this blog begins much further south than the famous National Parks of Tanzania like Ngorogoro Crater N.P and Serengeti N.P so our wallets were bulging for the time being anyway.
We found the Tanzanian Immigration officer and talked fast to explain how we hadn’t gone through the border crossing at the Mozambique border and couldn’t remember the name of the Dhow we arrived on and anything about the previous day - sorry sir - and got our passports stamped in the tiny wooden shack full of 5 h.p outboard boat motors that belonged to the local fishermen at the back of the fish market.
After our Dhow experience crossing into Tanzania from Mozambique (previous blog entry) and continued hassle for more money from the locals who helped us unload the motorbike across the water we
decided to head north along the Tanzanian coastal road to Kilwa Masoko. I met a very interesting man along this never-ending dusty dirt and sand road in a town where we stopped for a cold drink. Of course the drink wasn’t cold but it was refreshing to meet Mr Oman Mamba, a friendly southern local who I told that I would mention in this blog (so there you go). He gave me a photograph of himself to remember the friendly encounter by, which in a place where photographs are an expensive luxury (he definitely didn’t own a camera and possibly only had that one photograph of himself?) it was a very warm gesture and a great introduction to the Tanzanian people.
Two nights of relaxing on the white sand palm-fringed beaches around Kilwa Masoko and we were ready to venture further north to Dar es Salam, and more white sand palm-fringed beaches just south of the bustling city itself. Not that it was just plain sailing getting there: I can’t forget the jostling match with the Matatu (minivan) driver who tried to run us off the road in Dar es Salam; and the first bribe of the trip that
Zanzibar island
Stone Town, the capital viewed from the very slow local ferry from Dar es Salam.was paid to an officer of the law when I rode the wrong way down a one way street. “You have to come with me down to the Police Station! Or, in this country we have an ‘On the spot fine’ system.” Hey, isn’t that my line I thought to myself as I started bargaining the fine down from the local equivalent of US$40 to US$10.
A few days after enjoying the modernity of big city commodities we took the cheap local ferry 75km east to the beautiful exotic island of Zanzibar. After chasing away the touts we enjoyed getting lost in the maze of streets in Stone Town, the capital city of Zanzibar Island. The muezzins ‘Call to Prayer’ always ensured an early start to the day exploring the streets less trodden, stopping occasionally to enjoy an espresso in a small hole-in-the-wall coffee house and watch the busy world go by.
It was high season so we enjoyed sundowners with hoards of Italian tourists sporting Dolce & Gabana and the like. Feeling slightly out of place with my faded T-shirt and newly repaired shorts (and not wanting to be in that crowd anyway) we took a Matatu over
to the east coast beach of Bwejuu, the quietest, most chilled beach of Zanzibar Island. Walking along the beach in search of accommodation we luckily came across Mamba, the owner of the same named beach resort. The word ‘resort’ is slightly misleading - more like a group of tidy bungalows set around a bar/restaurant in a very chilled out Rastafarian fashion. Mamba, Ali and the other people working there were awesomely friendly and I could definitely recommend staying there.
The beaches of Bwejuu are like nothing else I’ve experienced before or since - sand like icing sugar between your toes so brilliantly white contrasting with the beautifully blue green turquoise waters of the Indian Ocean. The amazing thing was that this was tourist high-season and there was sometimes literally no-one on the beach! Maybe I shouldn’t be saying that? Anyway, it was great hiring bicycles and riding along the beach to the neighbouring beaches of Paje and Jambiani to gorge on seafood and realise how lucky I was to be there. I also went for two scuba dives which I realized I hadn’t done for 7 years! I borrowed the Open Water course booklet the night before and refreshed my
memory of how to scuba dive but it all came back to me as I flipped over backwards into the fish-filled ocean and enjoyed the amazing reefs.
Back on the Tanzanian mainland we followed the compass north to Lushoto Mountains and enjoyed hiking around the picturesque trails to find such gems as the Irente Farm. Run by a Swiss expat the farm produces such delicacies as cottage cheese, a variety of Swiss cheeses, fresh jams and delicious fresh brown bread - a real rarity in this part of the world. We also spend a day hiking to a remote waterfall. Never alone though, we were accompanied by a group of children trying unsuccessfully to sell us water lilies the entire way. I guess they enjoyed the picturesque walk anyway. I know they enjoyed me diving in the water to fish out my dropped sunglasses when I was positioning myself for a photo from just the right spot!
The main thing that didn’t grab me about Tanzania was the very high expense to do anything touristy at all. We were in Moshi up north, the base town to hike Mount Kilimanjaro, the highest of African mountains at 5,895 meters.
Mamba's bar
Mamba's place on the east coast of Zanzibar island After researching local companies we were priced off the market with quotes starting at US$1200 once you had paid all the extras at the end of your 5 day hiking trip! There’s lots of hidden expenses like the obligatory tipping of an extra days rate at the end of your hike. Still, people still flock there in hoards but we have had to make choices along the way of what’s more important to us - a hiking trip or a month extra travelling! Even to do a day trip hiking around the park was going to cost us a hundred dollars once everything was paid up (the compulsory guide, of course he needs a porter - for a day trip! - etc, etc). Determined to do some more hiking in this beautiful country we rode back south to the Usangi Mountains to probe that part of the country. The most interesting part of that journey was that we were camped in the middle of the Usangi boarding schools football ground (where we were told to pitch our tent) happily watching the game progress around us - no one even questioned why we were there and could we please shift? The
football made no holes in the tent so we ventured north to Kenya………
The Kenyan border crossing was full of anti-corruption slogans and tourist warnings not to pay bribes and add to the already prolific problem of corruption. Our Immigration Officer obviously didn’t have his reading glasses with him, or his watch as it turned out. To cut a long story short we were being held up at the border for an “Over-time tax” due to it being a weekend? After pointing out the fact that the border was open therefore inciting no ‘over-time’ we donned helmuts and dropped it down a gear as we accelerated around the barrier into the land of anti-corruption and endless vistas.
Our first stop included a bike overhaul at Jungle Junction in Nairobi: GPS S 01° 17.325’ E 036° 45.634’ Camping Ksh 400 p.p.p.n. The owner Chris Handschuh is really helpful and has a great network of resources to get pretty much everything done that you need to carry on your African journey, including reputedly the best equipped workshop in Nairobi. We spent a while in Nairobi running errands and replenishing supplies to continue the East African leg of our trip before
Lushoto mountains
Stunning scenery to hike in heading east to the Masai Mara National Park.
The roads we took to the Masai Mara posed some challenges (due to the endless muddy road works diversions) but we ended up finding a great campsite just outside the N.P called Mara Springs Camp. Entertainingly there were some really naïve American tourists camping there who must have been travelling with blinkers on like a race horse wears! The American lady slowly and loudly explained to the local lady about to wash her clothes “Wash them in cold water and don’t use a drier. Hang them up to dry. Do you understand, do not use a drier, hang them up to dry!” Painful as it was to listen it was interesting that someone travelling in Africa could be so unobservant - does she really think that the woman is going to use hot water and a drier? Where’s the electricity in this bush camp to operate a drier? Hang them up to dry- how else? If you looked around you would see all the locals in the area hanging their clothes up in the thorn trees to dry.
Unable to ride our motorbike through the Masai Mara N.P for obvious
reasons (lions would be a start if it wasn’t obvious) we joined a minivan tour that was staying at our camp. It was a great day driving through the rolling open plains and savannas with our driver/guide John navigating the sliding 2WD van along the muddy tracks hunting down the various African wild game we all see on television. We were lucky that we were there during the annual Wildebeest and Zebra migration. Having eaten the pastures on the Kenyan side vast trails of the beasts started migrating back south into the Serengeti N.P which falls on the Tanzanian side. Coincidently, if you want some Discovery Channel information: Wildebeest and Zebra compatibly graze together as the Zebra has a good sense of smell to find water, and the Wildebeest good eyesight to keep watch for predators like lions. Not an entirely fail safe marriage though - one of the three groups of lions we saw that day was munching down the reminants of a Wildebeest kill, the male lion basking in the sun belly full.
We really had our hunter gatherer instincts for filled that day as we gathered in photos of lions, elephants, giraffes, hippopotamus, cheetah, water buffalo, hyena
and the other shaggy and stripy beasts. The highlight of the day for me was seeing the cheetahs - they really are majestic and graceful animals - with the lowlight of the day being standing out in the rain pushing the minivan up a muddy track pretending that lions wouldn’t be hungry at that time of the day!
We passed through stunning scenery as we headed west towards Uganda. Climbing up through hilly tea plantations and winding our way down through the mountain passes between Kisii and Kisumu are the memories I savour….getting absolutely soaked in various hailstorms along the way is down in the list. Also down in the list of favourable memories is spending two hours in the rain searching for affordable accommodation in Kisumu, resulting in staying at a brothel with the resident prostitutes washing their underwear in the communal sink simultaneously trying to procure my business.
“You guys look like you deserve these!” toasted Kiwi raft guide Reuben as he handed us shots of the east African Sambuca equivalent Zappa. After one of the worst rides of the trip so far we had arrived at Nile River Explorers campsite in Jinja Uganda. The downpour
had started hours earlier and hadn’t relented the entire ride. The tarred road from the Kenyan Ugandan border had been ripped up by a Non Government Organisation (NGO) to build a proposed new one but the money had mysteriously gone missing and the project pulled. The result was hours of muddy diversions and pot holes covered by surface flooding - like riding blind folded on a melting ice rink. But road conditions change in Africa as quickly as the rains come and wash them away, and some foreign aid agency is probably resurfacing the road now as I write - as is expected.
The White Nile River beckoned to be rafted so we joined in Reuben’s raft, manned the front and headed down the Grade 5 rapids trying to flip as much as possible! We only managed to flip twice but were pretty lucky to make it right side up through most of the other rapids. Amazing stats since a few beers had flowed the previous night swapping stories with the four Kiwi expats living the hard life of tropical Uganda. It was great hanging out with some New Zealanders for a while but we soon got the urge
to move on and experience the infamous Ugandan drivers and the stories they carried for ourselves.
There is no where better to experience Ugandan drivers at their best than in the heart of Kampala (the capital) itself. Several people we had met on our journey north from Cape Town South African had come to various fates riding through the jam-packed streets but even with our motor continuously cutting out we luckily avoided incidence. We had several close calls in Ugandan traffic (including being forced off the road) mostly due to other vehicles avoiding pot holes to choose the head-on approach instead! The ‘I’m bigger than you rule’ definitely applies in Uganda with the Matatu drivers being the worst. The bird was flipped simultaneously whilst yelling obscenities many an occasion!
Kampala definitely had its share of interesting goings-on. One day in the Bugolobi market I heard what I thought was a car driving over a plastic container, only to have one guy sprinting in front of me followed by an AK-47 wielding policeman reeling off another shot into the crowded market!
Not being able to be separately from our new found Kiwi friends for too long we met up with
Jeff (a Kiwi ex over Land driver come de-miner in south Sudan come Adventure sport specialist) and his American Malarial Dr. Sarah in Kampala for a taste of the local nightlife the capital has to offer. A few days later after we were fully recovered we rode south in search of the beautiful landscapes Uganda has to offer.
A bit of information for East African over Landers - in case anyone needs any welding done while in Kampala I can totally recommend the very friendly and professional guys at Victoria Engineering in the industrial area. They welded up our aluminium foot pegs (twice - separate incidences) for no charge and just said to appreciate the work. Typically friendly Ugandans and the type of local interactions that make Africa so special.
Set in the stunning Rwenzori mountains of southern Uganda is Lake Bunyonyi, a great place to relax and soak in the surrounding countryside. The lake is set right at the top of the mountains in stunning surroundings and is dotted throughout with picturesque islands all with a story to tell. Tiny Punishment Island with its lone palm tree was where unmarried pregnant girls were taken and left to
Workshop repairs
Utilizing the awesomely equiped garage at Jungle Junction Nairobi Kenya die - usually because they couldn’t swim or have the stamina to make it to shore if they could. Of course we had our usual entourage of kids following us the whole way. If we stopped they stopped. If we moved they moved. It’s hard being celebrities sometimes!
Crossing the Rwenzori mountains into Rwanda and winding our way down to the capital of Kigali on the wrong side of the road (they drive on the right due to being an ex French colony) was a great introduction to this beautiful country. As far as riding motorbikes is concerned Rwanda is a fantastic country with endless winding hilly roads. As far as people are concerned, the Rwandans are very friendly and approachable (like every African country I’ve been to) which led to some great times trying to speak French (badly) with the locals deciphering what on earth they were saying and pointing about - usually that I was on the wrong side of the road!
Visiting the Rwandan Genocide museum in Kigali was a memorable experience, but one that was at once sad and hard to believe that this atrocity was literally allowed to happen with the world watching from
the sideline. Without going into too much detail, for those of you who don’t know this genocide happened between April and July 1994. This was interesting itself because every local in Rwanda I met who was 13 years and older lived through this massacre and was involved in some form or another. Had they wielded a machete, or were they themselves or their families victims? Historically tribal differences in Rwanda started when German then Belgium colonies played on ethnic differences to divide and conquer the population, primarily into Tutsi and Hutu tribes. In 1994 the French backed Hutus butchered up to one million Tutsis and Hutu sympathizers with machetes, clubs and grenades.
Rwanda also provided the highlight of the trip so far, when we visited the gorillas in the Parc National des Volcans near Ruhengeri in the countries North West. After splitting with US$ 500 (I know it’s a ridiculous amount of money - the only justification being that most of the money in this case actually goes towards the gorillas’ preservation, and next year the fees are increasing to a whopping US$ 1000!) we hiked for three hours in the rain through beautiful rainforest to find the fast
Lazy Lion
Belly full in the Masai Mara moving Group 13 - the second largest Rwandan group of Silverback gorillas with 21 members. In Kinyarawanda the male silverback’s name meant Special, and it definitely was an awesome experience spending some time watching these primates - so humanlike and also so vulnerable.
Being such a small country we were able to ride from the north to the south in one day and visit the Gikongoro genocide memorial, the moving site of a former technical college where the Interhamwe (Hutu extremists) killed 40,000+ Tutsis who had taken up refugee there. Something for people to experience to possibly help avoid such atrocities in the future
With our motorbike headlight cracked and dysfunctional it made for an interesting evening ride back into Uganda: keeping up with the vehicle in front using their headlights whilst avoiding potholes and the high-beaming headlights of ever oncoming traffic. We rode through the densely gridlocked traffic of Kampala to make it in time for the telling All Blacks Rugby World Cup game against France - enough said (in retrospect I wish we hadn’t rushed), but it gives an idea of the time we were there.
The motorbike started really crapping out (stalling every time I decelerated)
How it really is!
Masai Mara N.P Kenya in parallel with the weather in Uganda providing some memorable rides, like the time I got really lost riding back from Jeff and Sarah’s farm property in the dark. Completely lost in the bush surrounding the White Nile River it started to absolutely pelt down with rain turning the red dirt tracks instantly into a muddy waterslide. Entering each muddy hole the bike stalled and the headlight with it! But hey, it did give me a chance to mingle with the locals (asking for directions) and with the momentary silence hear the cries from the blackened bush “Mzungu, mzungu, how are you?” Not very well was the basis of my reply. I’m certainly not trying to say look at me with all this bad luck - I’m the one on holiday - but it’s just a way of saying that it isn’t plain sailing all the time. Just to counter that statement, the great people at Nile River Explorers in Jinja put us up in a luxury tented camp (still a tent but definitely luxury for us!) because they thought we deserved it travelling this way for so long.
With the usual last minute change of plans we
headed north to Sipi Falls instead of back into Kenya. It was great going to Sipi Falls for two reasons: firstly because I realized when I arrived that I’d actually been there before in 1995; and secondly the local interactions I had along the way. I’ve noticed it more and more in countries with prolific International Aid that the ideology that white people are expected to give to local Africans’ increases - one young boy of perhaps 10 years old demanded from me “Give me my f**ken something!” Who taught this boy that language? Most probably from other backpackers being annoyed from the constant taunt of beggars expecting a handout, therefore swearing at the boy to go away, then possibly resorting to giving him something to leave them alone. Something for future travellers to think about: don’t swear at the kids unless you expect the same in return, and don’t give them gifts to go away - it only leads to expectations. Another time when I hadn’t expected the reaction I got was when we parked the motorbike at a service station to wait a rainstorm out. To cut a long story short we weren’t in anyone’s way and were
Masai Mara N.P plains
Migrating Wildebeest in the background busily chatting to the local service station attendants. Of course someone wanted to park exactly where we were parked to refuel. After asking if they could go to another petrol pump (they were all free) a lady jumped out and barked “Don’t bring your white attitude here!” - What? - Then “We’ll bring in someone like Mugabe to sort you out!” - Whoa, while I wasn’t expecting that one the guy jumped on his mobile phone to call the Police.
Very evident in this case, and in the case of speaking to other locals on this trip, the white agents of virtue are not always welcome. A great sign (I believe) that the local people want to get on with their lives and not be overshadowed by the constant interjection of the west. Try telling that to the politicians and money-making Aid agencies in their brand new white Landrovers.
Riding back into Kenya the countryside felt familiar, not the same as the southern countryside of Kenya we had ridden through a month prior, but as I found out when we reached Naiberi River Campsite near Eldoret, the familiarity of 1995 when I unwittingly stayed at the same campsite. The
quirky owners Raj and Ash were instantly familiar, so were the friends that were staying there who we had met on different occasions on our African journey. Guy and Marlene from Belgium, who we had met on the Ilala ferry on Lake Malawi, and Hugh, an Irish guy on the same motorbike as us who we had met in Malawi and Mozambique.
We whittled several days away there before moving to Lake Baringo further east. The lake flies and mosquitoes forced an early retirement into the tent but not an early sleep. That night grazing hippopotamus right outside the tent kept me well awake. The constant munch-munch a few meters away and the nudge (only once) of the tent made for interesting fantasies - would the hippo decide to move the tent with us in it to get to the grass laying beneath, or would it just decide to flop all it’s tonnes of weight on top of us? We survived to tell the tale and photograph them the next morning along with the crocodile that was less than 5 meters away from the tent when I emerged.
During the final day back to Nairobi we had a fall riding
Water Buffalo
We backed up quickly when he started to put his head down! through a river crossing. A fall that would have looked more dramatic than it was (the locals certainly emerged from the bush to ogle) it still left me with a broken big left toe and some extra welding repairs to do on the bike in Nairobi.
So, that’s what I did in Nairobi: welded and repaired various motorbike aliments and sat around with my toe splintered with an ice cream stick planning out the next leg of the journey.
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