travellingbennetts

It is just before lunch on day 28. Ethiopia with its quirks including restrictions on social media that only people under 30 can figure a way around, and delicious Injera bread that looks like a homeless man’s bath mat is behind us. Suddenly we see a border facility that looks modern, and it is on the correct side of the road. It is Kenya.

The immigration process actually occurred inside a building that looked like an immigration facility; proper windows and uniformed staff, and this was also our first African “rock up whenever you want and just buy a visa” experience. The US$50 parted with, our documents were stamped and it was off to customs to get the bikes in. The customs shed was modern, and even had a scale model of the entire border facility that has been designed to easily move people and goods across, one day it might even be finished. Perhaps surprisingly the trade between Kenya and Ethiopia is small volume, but this is expected to increase so the investment is being made. Impounded goods are stored in the shed, Brazilian sugar seemed to make up the majority of seized imports, presumably Kenyans distrust hairless sugar.

The Carnet stamping process was a bit drawn out, mainly due to the official in charge having to go for his lunch hour in the middle of the process, but worries about getting Cindy’s bike in while she was getting yet another massage in Addis Ababa were completely unfounded. So with Brendan emerging from the shed waving carnets like Chamberlain waving the Munich Agreement in 1938, but hoping for a better outcome, we donned the gear and the race was on to get into Kenya proper.

Northern Kenya has all the same characteristics of Sudanese and Ethiopian northern frontiers – sparsely populated and no major centres suited to meet the discerning powered cyclists’ sensibilities. So the 200km push was on to get to Henry’s Camp at Marsabit before dark. Road quality was good, so with a departure from the border of about 3pm there was no reason why we couldn’t make it before 5:00pm. Marsabit is only 2.3° north of the equator, so expectation of lush tropics were rudely crushed by the featureless desert with all the brutal appearance of Australia’s notorious Sturt Stony Desert. Howling crosswinds were needlessly warned of on road signs, it was tough riding.

With the end in sight and only 20km to go to Marsabit, and the wind finally easing as we moved behind the Rift Valley volcanoes, Craig and Kathy pulled up on the side of the road seemed a bit odd. The usual “thumbs up to let the passing rider know everything is okay” was not forthcoming, substituted on this occasion with a thumbs down. Stan and I brought the Tigers purring to a stop and got off to offer assistance. Radiator coolant all over the road under Kathy’s 700GS did not look good, and even someone whose experience with engine cooling was limited to spraying their cart horse with a hose could see it was the end. The damage seemed to run in the family, as Craig had a radiator leak in Addis Ababa that was mainly under control but had required a lot of work to allow it to get to Nairobi where a replacement was due.

So we waited for the support vehicle, which had all the camping gear so getting to Henry’s (and for tonight ours) Camp early was a bit pointless, unless Kenyan beer was the objective. Which it sort of was. Half an hour later the vehicle arrived, Cindy’s bike was off and de-dusted for Kathy, Kathy’s bike was on, and once again we were underway for the short ride to Marsabit.

On the final approach to Marsabit, suddenly a huge crater appeared which demanded a quick photo stop, this was the first expression of the east Africa Rift Valley volcanics. Crater is a mis-used term in Africa, this implies a meteor strike, rather on the Rift Valley rim they are actually the caldera of old volcanoes, and around Marsabit they are fairly impressive.

We rolled into Henry’s Camp, as per tradition right on dusk, so only experience got the tents up in positions optimised for the relative snoring volumes, and the Marquis de Sade mattresses given the illusion of being inflated. A great dinner buffet and roast goat was laid on, and washed down with a couple of well-deserved Tusker beers.

Day 29 was a transition from third world to first world, with a brief period spent in second world over the 420km journey. The morning kicked off with a wet ride out of Marsabit, with thick fog making it even more pleasant and keeping the speed down. Heidenau tyres have a reputation for being slippery in the wet, but even though I have never had too much trouble with them no chances were taken. The country south of Marsabit was approaching classic Animal Planet Africa, with dry acacia scrub and occasional fair dinkum wildlife, such as giraffe and an ostrich that fortunately didn’t behave as an emu would and try a murder-suicide on the passing Triumph.

Some anti-social behavior was noted; a mob of camels was gathered on the road requiring a slow down, I got through easily as the camel’s guard had briefly slipped, but Canadian Terry was completely blocked so stopped to get a picture and was immediately accosted by people waiting just before the camels. Although the villains were wielding machetes and grabbing at pockets, no real aggression was experienced but he still quickly forged through the undisciplined camels and made his escape.

 As Mt Kenya approached on the port bow of HMAS Tiger, suddenly more prosperous and green regions were entered with large farms, before entering the large town of Nanyuki on the western side of the mountain. This was the lunch venue, and more by good luck than Matthew Flinders-level navigation skills, the supermarket that was the designated stop was found. The supermarket was definitely first world, absolutely no difference between it and the average Woolies in Australia, except that unlike second world trading rules in Queensland the grog was available right off the shelves. It was product overload for out of practice consumers, with the result that all the stuff I’d missed on the trip was completely forgotten, and all I bought was Mortein for killing mozzies dripping with malaria.

Offers of lunch in the car park from the remaining food inventory in the support vehicle were considered for 0.2 milliseconds, before being rejected as ludicrous and hitting a café. And oh dear lord, for the first time since leaving Australia there was porcine product on the menu, so a BLT was ordered and the bacon stared at for 0.1 milliseconds before being hoovered.

After support vehicle restocking by Brendan and Andrew while we vacuumed crispy swine, a 1.5km trip further down the road got us to latitude 0° 0’ and 0”, i.e. the equator. This meant that we had so far ridden around 31° south since leaving Alexandria, or roughly the equivalent of the tip of Cape York to Strahan in Tasmania, a surprising distance.

The afternoon was spent in a winner-takes-all tussle with the GPS, which tried to punish me for dragging it behind the bike into the Blue Nile Valley by forcing me onto ridiculously under-maintained shortcuts to the Rhino Watch Lodge just out of Nyeri. Reprogramming using the 2001 A Space Odyssey method sorted it out, however mine wasn’t the only one to do it and some riders actually lost. Arriving into the Rhino Watch Lodge was first world overload; immaculately clean, polished everythings, discreet and suitable art, and beautiful furnishings that made plonking the reeking and filthy riding pants onto them seem a crime of couch genocide. Heavy rain and a random timing self-closing umbrella during the oxygen-free ascent to the room miles away up the hill did nothing to dampen the joy of being back in civilization.

That evening before a first class meal, those riders who miraculously found the room attended a talk by Dr Felix, a world expert in rhinoceros. A lot of the problem with the increase in poaching since 2007 that has taken up to 10% of numbers has been the Vietnamese, with pieces of rhino horn in Vietnam the equivalent of a 23 year old lingerie model wife and a Lear jet – you’ve made it and you are a star.

Day 30 was a morning rhinoceros safari at the nearby Solio reserve. The reserve is quite small, but is chokkas with major African animals. We started with impala and learning of the stress of the head bloke trying to keep the harem together while the ladies and rivals make it really difficult, after about three weeks he is practically begging a lion to finish him off. We then saw a couple of grazing white rhinoceros which was a huge moment and had the cameras working overtime, only to later end up amongst swarms of the bloody things. Black rhinoceros are a browser rather than a grazer, so are far more difficult to find and see as browsing demands scrub, however we were successful in seeing one and getting a few “Loch Ness monster” quality photos.

Zebra, giraffe, cape buffalo, water buck, Thompson’s gazelle, jackals, and hyena were also present, however the lion in the park remained elusive although we spent a lot of time looking behind trees. Oryx had been introduced to the reserve from desert areas as a conservation measure, so were well out of place, but were obviously making a successful effort and were probably well represented on various Solio reserve club committees.

After a great morning seeing two of the African big five which was a measure of the difficulty of hunting on foot rather than number of Grammy awards, including cape buffalo and rhino, it was back to the Lodge for lunch, packing, dressing for riding, and lugging the bags the 15km back down to reception. The afternoons ride headed north from the Lodge, with risk of rain ignored by some but embraced by others, before the momentous event of crossing the equator, this time going north. Celebration was a bit more effusive as this time there were no touts and souvenir sellers, although those with the iPhone latitude and longitude App said the equator was 100m too far north, and questioned the professionalism of the Kenyan Department of Mines and Geology.

On meeting the main road we turned south, and crossed the equator again. Whoop-de-do. Didn’t even stop. The road become congested around roadworks, with Adrian/Alma on the 1200GS and me on the Tiger making a good team weaving through the trucks, cars, buses, and zebras. Africa was becoming surreal and fun at the same time. And then it just became miserable as the cold rain caught up on the ride around Lake Naivasha toward our destination at the Fish Eagle Inn, only stopping just as we pulled in. However, once a 30 minute warm shower had returned this shivering wreck to a beautiful English Rose, it was up to the restaurant for a few Tusker beers and the evening meal.

Day 31 was entirely spent at Lake Naivasha, with a few tour options thrown in. Some chose the simple boat tour on the lake, however the adventurous quartet of me, Terry, and New York’s finest Craig and Kathy decided on the Crater Lake tour with a boat ride on a little lake that seems part of Naivasha but is separated by a tongue of land. The US$50 Crater Lake Walk was probably one of the worst investment decisions since buying Eight Track tape manufacturer shares, but at least we got some exercise marching around the lake, and the totally inappropriate low suspension van ride which allowed bull dust to flood in every time the sump smashed into a rock gave us something to talk about.

The boat tour, which cost about US$2, was a smashing success with loads of bird life, zebra, giraffe, water buck, wart hogs, and to top it off the rare sight of a herd of hippos standing around on the edge. This armed us to the teeth with bragging rights over the rest of the group who had never seen hippo out of water. Plenty of opportunity to discuss was provided at the afternoon’s high tea at ‘Elsamere’, the property on the edge of Lake Naivasha that was the home of Joy and George Adamson, of Born Free fame. Perhaps less well known about Joy was that she was a very accomplished artist, and she had a tendency to swap husbands on a regular basis in the early years.

Day 32 was a mere 100km to Nairobi, although a lot of traffic dodging was required as we worked our way up the Rift Valley escarpment and then down into Nairobi. It was a Sunday, so could have been a lot worse. With a few minor navigation issues resolved, we arrived at the Meridian hotel in the mid afternoon.

Nairobi was officially the major maintenance place, with plans to take all the bikes to BMW Nairobi early the next morning for servicing and tyre changes. Nairobi is in a slightly inconvenient location for the C2C, it is about 3000km too early for a service, and way too early for a tyre change, but there is nowhere else. Nairobi was also the official reunion place, with a trip out to the airport on Sunday evening to collect Cindy from the plane from Addis Ababa. Airport officials treated her like disabled royalty with wheelchair transport, baggage carrying, assistance filling out forms, document handling through immigration, and safe delivery to the meeting place outside the terminal. Arriving back at the hotel, everyone was having dinner so the reunion formalities were completed with the rest of the group.

Brendan’s replacement for the support vehicle driving duty, Bayne from Canada, also arrived on Sunday night, so there was plenty of introductions and discussion regarding the plans for the next two days, commencing early Monday morning Day 33. After a fortifying breakfast buffet, we raced through Nairobi traffic, or would have if it was moving, and eventually got out to BMW. My bike, and the two Compass bikes were not being serviced by BMW, so priority on those having tyres changed first was given. Unfortunately the understanding of priority escaped BMW, who started on other bikes before the priority bikes. With Cindy booking an orthopaedic appointment for 2pm, eventually the hope of getting my bike done in time faded and I rode a Compass bike back, or would have if the traffic were moving. Unfortunately I had pocketed my keys, so I totally destroyed the plan of Andrew riding my bike back to the hotel. The five-hour wait at BMW was followed up with a three-hour wait at the orthopaedic clinic, but at least Cindy got a service and left with the leg cast off and a high tech air walker boot on.

Having completely wasted Monday, I caught a taxi out to BMW to get my bike on Day 34, and then rode it back, or would have if the traffic weren’t at a complete standstill. Eventually back at the hotel, Bayne and Andrew took one look as I rode in and noticed the rear tyre was on backwards. No longer happy with waiting around, I did the service first so I could claim something had been achieved, then rode back out, or would have if the traffic weren’t totally gridlocked. Once back out at BMW, it became obvious that they weren’t going to finish anything on time so we did as much as possible for them, including removing and re-installing wheels. With my tyre back on, this time the right way, it was back to the hotel for our last night in Nairobi, with two and half days basically spent waiting at BMW, in the hotel, in the orthopaedic hospital, or in Nairobi traffic.

That night we met up with Hera Forsyth, coming in to pillion the rest of Africa with Adrian and replacing their daughter Alma, who was a trooper and the go-to girl for any technical and social media issues. She had been a fun group member, and although the youngest by several millennia, had kept us amused by ignoring everything Adrian said. Craig Jackson from Compass had also flown in on Tuesday, to bring two radiators in, one for Kathy’s 700GS which was a Compass bike, and one for Craig’s 650 V-Strom. New Yorkers are very tough on radiators.

With all done on the bikes, including a complimentary wash by the Meridian Hotel that was much appreciated by the riders, particularly those that had destroyed the hotel plumbing washing air pre-filters and riding suits, it was a send-off to support vehicle maestro Brendan who had been a lot of fun and seemed completely unable to be flustered by any goings on with the group or administration issues.

Day 35 was end of Kenya, with approximately 200km ride to the border. It had been a week in the country, and it seemed more like a month with lots of big and small African animals seen up close. Just before the border, a stop at a petrol station allowed Cindy to prepare to pillion across so that riding in all countries record remained intact. The border crossing facility was a step up again, modern and new, with proper queues for everyone except Cindy who was again pushing in front of everyone with official assistance. Immigration was fast, and we had a fixer engaged to help with the carnets, which also happened in record time. Before lunch, we were out on the bikes and riding up the hill to meet our Tanzanian destiny.

Four down, seven to go.

In summary, Kenya is a relatively easy place compared to the more northern countries, most people except the very rural speak good English and it is very modern compared to Ethiopia and Sudan. A good indicator is Cindy’s visits to hospitals, with Addis Ababa fairly third world compared to Nairobi’s orthopaedic private hospital, which is extremely modern. The scenery and climate for a country on the equator was very pleasant for those who were expecting Darwin during build-up humidity levels. Invariably Kenyans were friendly, and although there were a couple of incidents including French Nicolas being caught up in a nasty political protest regarding the upcoming elections, it felt very safe. The wildlife is amazing, so definitely worth a visit again some day. The BMW dealer probably rates just above Morgan and Wacker BMW in Brisbane, they did at least do more than pretend to work on the bikes, and getting the Triumph tyre on backward is understandable given the sprocket is on the opposite side to a GS.