Up, down and around Uganda – “How are you “Mzungu”

More mud, hills, some Elephants and the odd red wine....the adventure continues....

After our adventures on the Nile River, combined with finally getting all our mechanical issues sorted, it was time to hit the road again out of Kampala. Sadly, 5 became 4 as Hayley departed back to Australia and the female buffer between 4 men’s testosterone was lost. Slightly behind schedule after our delays, it was high time to make up some ground as we had 415km ahead before our next “tourist” stop in Queen Elizabeth National park in South Western Uganda, where we planned on seeing some wildlife and chilling out. First things first though, we had some serious cycling to do and some hills to climb. Getting out of Kampala was full of typical big city fun, diesel spewing all over us, chaotic traffic and people everywhere. Once we climbed out of the city though, the next few days provided some more pleasant riding as we rose and dropped through mountains flush with tea plantations, rolling hills and predictable afternoon showers and lightning storms. 

Rest Stop out of Kampala

Vegetarian friendly...

With no real destinations in mind for a few days, we basically cycled as far as we could each day before setting up camp wherever we could manage to find a clearing. Schools were our new favourite place to stay as they provided typically flat grassy grounds and some space, however they always involved curious schoolchildren passing by, asking a million questions and just staring at our tents and gear. This can typically be avoided if we rose early enough and hit the road at sunrise. However, when someone in the group (who shall not be named), decides to lose the key to the lock that ties all the bikes together, it certainly makes an early getaway difficult….we are now one padlock short! On the flip side, we know how long it takes to cut through a lock with a dodgy local man’s rusty hack saw! Having school kids hang around can also provide some entertainment, as Ben typically manages to swindle a few rides on motorcycles out of them. I must remember not to get on the back with him again though as he seems to like to slide around wet, grassy football fields until I fly off the back and land arse first on the turf – never spilling a drop of my beer though!

School camping

Ben and motorcycle buddy

Gareth "repairing" the lock

View from the tent when camping at schools

So after 3 days and 300km, we landed in a town called Fort Portal – our most westerly point of the trip and finally turned South towards Rwanda. With heavy legs we put in for one of our hardest days in the saddle, punching out 110km of hill climbing cycling towards Q.E National Park. The park is home to countless wild animals and attracts a lot of tourist traffic – typically overland groups who spend vast amounts of money to come and be driven out on safari to see Lions, Elephant’s, Leopards and the like. Suffice to say, when we arrived at the park gate on our bikes, we got some strange looks from the rangers and questions like “aren’t you worried about riding through the park with all the animals?” With typical blind naivety, we assured everyone that we would be fine, we’re tough boys etc etc….our boldness would be tested however as literally 100m into the park, we heard the distinct - and not too distant - roar of a lion….the next 10km or so to our campground was cycled considerably faster and in silence! (The ranger reported the following day that there was actually a pride of Lion’s at the park gate where we entered….hmmmm).

Arriving in the small village of Mweya in the park, we were faced with two lodging options, neither of which appealed to us – pay to camp on a crappy field (with the apparent safety of a guard should animals enter the camp), or pay approx $300 for a night in possibly the fanciest lodge in Uganda. True to form –we did neither! We decided instead to set up camp in front of an abandoned shop, out of view from locals and more importantly – free! Once again, we used our expert animal knowledge and defied local’s suggestions to light a fire “to discourage the hippos from coming to eat the grass near your tent”. We all felt nice and safe camping in the picturesque field, with no need for a fire, until about midnight when we were awoken by a panicked scream from Tim - who had set his tent up inside the abandoned shop “Hey – get in the fu%&ing shop”….jumping out of tents and flicking on our flashlights, we were excited to see a few rather large Elephants stomping within meters of our tents…..suffice to say that now we pay a little more attention to local advice regarding wild animals!

Mature Equator crossing

Cycling into QE Nat'l Park

Roadside snacks

Up at sunrise with everything in one piece, we were safe from grazing animals from the night and headed off with possibly the dodgiest tour guide of all time (however saving a LOT of money), who would take us through the park in his beat up van to find some elephant’s an Lions. Although it felt strangely odd to be in a vehicle for only the second time in a month, it was satisfying to be able to cover some ground across the national park in a few hours that would have taken us days on the bikes. We were rewarded too, as we got up close and personal with Hippo’s, Elephants and of course a few Lions. It was a real treat to see all these animals in the wild and we were all pleased with our decision to pay a few dollars and do the tour.

Simba and friend

Simba

Elephant in the room

Gareth after his morning glory

Returning to the lodge, where we had been spending the majority of our time, drinking their beer, eating pizza, using their facilities, helping with their animal tracking board and not paying to sleep in their rooms, we chilled out and prepared for our next few days of cycling. The first 20km of which, would be back through the park where we had just driven! Thankfully, we didn’t see Mr. Lion again, however we did get the very magical experience of cycling within 20m of Elephants, grazing about and waving their ears at us. There was something special about being so close to these animals without the relative safety net of a car or bus that words cannot really describe.

Helping the lodge with their tracking

cycling with Elephants - a highlight for us all

Up close

The cycling for the last 2 days of this stint was nothing short of fantastic. Rolling hills (getting bigger and bigger the further south we get), tea plantations, friendly (and annoying) locals, serene dirt roads and road side fruit stops all helped as we grinded through the last few km’s of this leg. The final climb up into the mountains surrounding Lake Bunyoni was utterly brutal as we climbed 500m in less than 5km, however it was all worth it as after 8 continuous days on the bike without a rest day and over 650km, we stopped at Lake Bunyoni, taking a few days to rest, read, write and generally do nothing.

Heading to the island

Wicked climbing in S.W Uganda

We are all looking forward to visiting Rwanda for a change of culture and people. The scenery in Uganda has been superb – the people, hit or miss. Cycling as a method of travelling provides unique experiences as you are constantly exposed to local communities, villages and people. Literally, from the moment you wake, until  you go to sleep, you are dealing with the local people and cultures. This provides unique and very rewarding experiences – and can be extremely frustrating at times. Even the simplest things like finding food in a town can be a frustrating series of questions involving no less than 20 people. If we all had a dollar for the amount of times we have been called Mzungus and had people from all directions shout “how are you”, “where you go”, “where you from”….we’d all be rich! After hours on end cycling hills, the constant attention can get tiring. We daily have up’s and down’s when dealing with all the people but it is always worth it in the end. We’ve had some memorable encounters with locals who are genuinely friendly, curious and helpful, often offering to let us stay and feed us etc. If only we could avoid the mid 20’s, males who are nothing but annoying and frustrating and stick to the smiling kids and helpful elders, all would be golden.

Alas - the island where we camped is one of the more beautiful places I have stayed (Lake Atitlan in Guatemala excepted) and we all recharged our batteries before tackling the hills in Rwanda.  Our island adventures were been just that – a chilled out canoe trip on the lake turned into  a fully blown adventure as we had to paddle through an afternoon storm and our short stay was cut a little short due to what will only be referred to as the “wine incident” and will never be spoken of again….

So here we are in Kigali, Rwanda now. We managed to make it here from Bunyoni in one day, despite a late start, afternoon storm and having to ride 30 or so km of our 110km day in darkness. We will stay in Kigali for a day or 2 before heading back East towards Tanzania. Apparently Rwanda means “Land of a thousand Hills”…..I hope there is something lost in translation!!!

Local kid helping us repair bikes

Road to Nowhere....

A short side note;

On the road we are constantly using and abusing our gear and we have suffered a few mechanical issues – some that can be avoided and some that cannot. Below is our current list of mechanical misadventures over the first 1,500km of our trip.

Broken spokes – Ben

Broken rim – Ben

Lost karabiner – Ben (presumed stolen)

Broken cutlery – Ben (broken by Craig)

Lost thermos flask – Gareth (presumed stolen)

Destroyed padlock – Gareth

Broken cutlery – Gareth (broke Craig’s and his own)

Lost rain coat – Gareth

Broken pump – Gareth (Tim’s pump – up for debate as to whether broken)

Broken rack – Gareth

Broken pannier clips - Gareth

Blown tube x 2 – Craig

Lost Occy strap - Craig

Lost water bottle – Craig (presumed stolen)

Lost headband – Tim

Problems arrive....

Jinja and beyond…..slowly…..

Pink Helmet!

After arriving in Jinja on Monday, we all decided a rest day or 2 was in order. And boy was it needed – after a few days in the baking sun, everyone had a touch of the sun grumps (some more than others) and spent the first day basically lying around the hostel, catching up on water intake and rest while doing chores, laundry etc. The rest time was also planned to play another important role – catch up on bike maintenance. Ben had a rear wheel to get straightened and if you recall from the previous post, Gareth’s rack was in dire need of real repairs given the zip tie/electrical tape and tent peg solution was starting to buckle. So off everyone went on the repair adventures while I lay on the couch recovering from a fairly serious case of dehydration. As Tim, Hayley and I went off whitewater rafting down the Nile the next day, we were expecting to come back to camp to see a smiling Ben and Gareth with straight wheels, repaired racks and ready to hit the road again. As most things on the road go however, things didn’t go to plan…..I’ll let the boys recount their repair adventures in Jinja in their own words;

Gareth;

Rolling into Jinja with a rack held together by tent pegs, duct tape, zip ties and positive thoughts I was confident the bush mechanic solution would see me good, possibly encouraged by the wager with Hopkins that my 'quickfix' would surely fail within 200kms. To be clear, we had 12,500 USH on the line. 

Some gentle insistence from the group saw me take to the streets for a better solution. Meeting a guy in a bar who knew a guy who had his aluminium boat repaired by some guys, a rendevouz with Martin and Ethan from Nile Brewery was organised. As luck would have it they were confident they could help, I just needed to secure the aluminium welding rods, and they knew a guy who knew a guy who had these and was to drop them off to me the following day.

The stars aligned, the rods arrived and I was off to Nile Breweries for the welding, although this plan was quickly derailed when the aluminium welding machine was out of action. Slightly concerned and thinking I was in more trouble than Tin-Tin in Egypt I left the rack with Martin and Ethan to ponder on what solution they could offer. 

Returning the following day the lads had whipped up an aluminium-stainless steel composite and off I went. The following 85km to Kampala proved a successful test run and with the gracious donation of Hayley's rack (she leaves for Australia tomorrow) I am confident to tackle the next length of our journey onto Western Uganda and Rwanda!

Gareth rack repairs part 2

Ben;

I’m pedaling along the wrong way up a one way street (Yes, I know, but I was going slower than walking pace, just milling about!). I have a parked car to my left, a motorbike ahead on my right, and another moto heading directly towards me, head down. He’s scooting along, doesn’t see me until the last minute, looks up, has nowhere to go and…CONTACT! Head on…Im thrown from my bike, he’s off, locals are running everywhere. I jump up and instinctively run to my bike. I know all too well that damage to my bike means delays in this part of the world, where decent bike parts are very, very few and far between. Derailleur, good. Gears, good. Front rim…twisted around on itself…no front wheel…this is a problem. I trek to the nearest bike shop, buy the best rim I can find that fits (its horrible), fit tube and tyre and try it out early next morning. No good. Puncture 2 tyres in the process. Next morning, rise early, hitch a ride to the Ugandan capital (Kampala) with a Kenyan mtn biker living in Jinja (names Nash, great bloke). He knows a guy who knows a guy who might have a decent replacement rim. Craig and I wait in the sun for 2 hours, he returns with what appears to be a great replacement, money exchanges hands and we pile in to a minibus for the 3 hour trek back to Jinja to fit the wheel. I ride 90km the next day without incident…fingers crossed this holds out for the remaining 2,000km! Moral of the story…one way streets should only be ridden one way! Yep, idiot…

So there we have it - with all bikes repaired (in a matter of speaking) and bags packed again, it was time to hit the road. A night of playing cards and drinking rum is the obvious way to prepare for the next few days of riding. What more could go wrong we thought…..well after a long game of “up and down the river” ended in a draw between Tim and I – there was obviously only one way to decide a winner – a drunken race down pitch black stairs to the Nile – first in wins! Well – nobody told me there was a double step at the bottom, so as I heard Tim splashing in fully clothed, I rolled down a few steps and into a ditch, smashing up my hands, hip, back and leg pretty good! Perfect preparation for someone who has to grip handlebars day in and day out! Luckily, doctor Bellchambers was on hand to dress my wounds and get my all prepped for the next day of riding. I secretly think he has been waiting for an incident like this as a perfect excuse to pull out his extensive medical kit!

Ben repairing wheels....again

So with repaired bike and bandaged hands, we were finally on the road again to Kampala – a long, hot, dusty, diesel fume clogged, bumpy and otherwise uninspiring 85km / 4 and half hours of our lives. The words “worst day on the bike” were muttered on more than one occasion. As much as we’d like to think so, all cycle touring is not sunshine and pineapples and sometimes you just need to grind down a few kms to get where you need to be. Tat all being said – there was plenty of sunshine and we did take a few pineapple breaks J

So here we are in Kampala – finally, spending the day doing city things like stocking up on food that will be unavailable in the country, servicing the bikes and preparing for the week ahead. We plan on putting in some long days to make it to Queen Elizabeth National park in the South West of the country – one of the only national parks we are permitted to cycle through. So 450km awaits until we get there, which we plan on knocking out in 4 days to make up lost time. Here’s hoping our bike issues and bad luck are behind us…

Recovering in Jinja

DO NOT RACE down to the river after a drunken card game

Handlebar grip suddenly got harder

Nile sunset

For you Brian.....

Repaired wheel.....finally!

Into the mud....

After a relaxing day in Kitale, drinking coffee and catching up on chores, it was high time to hit the road again. This day would mark new country day for us as we headed north west and over the border into Uganda. We had heard mixed reports about the road to the border ranging from “a bit sticky” to “impassable”, however we rode on. The ride out of town was a cyclist’s dream – 27 degrees with a cool breeze at our backs, rolling hills and perfect tarmac. This quickly changed however. Literally at a fork in the road, the tarmac disappeared and what lay ahead was 26km of rough, bumpy, dirt road. Even to call it a road is a gross exaggeration. The ruts and holes and bumps turned our pace into almost a walk. In fact, by the time we did reach the border, we’d covered 26km in almost 3 hours!

Rough Roads

The road less travelled however, always proves worthy. It was obvious that not too many white people venture this far out as we were swarmed with local kids at every stop asking where we were from and wanting to touch our white skin. Ben entertained them all as they ran alongside us with singalongs of “Hakuna Matada” and “bananas in pyjamas”. Some of the kids in fact, were so nimble on their feet, they had no problem running alongside us as we rode, sometime up to 15km/hr. The border crossing was almost comical – 5 dirty whitties sitting around a small shack filling in some arbitrary forms. Gareth was doing his best to help my passport situation (I have no blank pages left for visas) by dishing out fruit and nuts mix to the officers. It seemed to work, as we were all ushered over and into Uganda we rolled. The road ahead wasn’t much better though, in fact it disintegrated even further to the point that we were only able to cover 58km for the day in 4.5 hours riding before having to pull into a local police compound and set up camp for the night., the officers helping shoo away the local kids who tend to gather around our tents and stare at all the bewildering items and tasks we get up to. 

Locals helping Gareth with his tent

Dirt, dirt and more dirt

Eager to get going and push out the further 60km or so of dirt road before hitting tarmac, we immediately made terrible progress. The road kept getting worse and worse and we were averaging a pitiful 8km/hr as we barely held our heavy bikes on the road. We decided a break was in order so into a tiny village we pulled for our daily fix of rice and beans. As we ate, we decided to visit the adjoining primary school and say hello to all the kids who stared at us through the fence. We have never felt more like rock stars as the kids screamed and waved and tried as hard as possible to touch our white skin. Apparently, white people come through this road “maybe once a month” according to the schools’ headmaster, so the kids were extra excited when Ben did his impromptu singalongs and silly faces to the screaming kids.

Rock Stars

Ben entertaining the kids

 After the excitement of lunch however, we were greeted with a nice little rain shower. No big deal we thought, we’d ridden through worse, but the rain turned to dirt to mud – moreover sticky clay. Within 500m we were all off our bikes, clearing the mud from our wheels, brakes, mudguards….everywhere! Once rolling again, the clay would build up around the wheels rendering them impossible to spin. In the 3 hours after lunch, we’d covered all of 1km and were completely covered in the clay. It seems that in these parts, nobody drives, rides or goes anywhere after a rain as the road becomes literally impassable. Never have I been stopped on my bike through a road that is literally impossible to cycle on. The holes became crevasses; some puddles a foot deep and the clay impossibly sticky and slippery. The situation was quickly deteriorating as we had no food, barely any water and the road couldn’t even be driven on, so hitching a ride was out of the question too. You can imagine the collective mood between 5 people, tired, hungry, wet and completely powerless to move under our own steam for the first time this trip. So for the first time, we were defeated by the road and decided to set up camp at yet another police compound for the night, everyone soaking wet, filthy and altogether not too impressed with spending an entire day only to cover 23km. Getting to the police compound however was an adventure all in itself…with bikes rendered useless through the mud there was no way to move. As luck would have it, the first truck in hours drove by and after quick introductions, we realized it was being driven by a relatively famous Ugandan athlete who had competed in Melbourne Commonwealth games and was happy to help us. So 10 minutes later we had 5 bikes and gear loaded in and had it bound for the police compound a few kms away. We were to follow on foot……It wasn’t until we saw the truck disappearing up a hill that we had the shocking realization that we had just trusted a complete stranger with all our belongings and bikes. After a hasty discussion we thought there was only one option – give chase! If you can imagine the scene – a dusty, muddy little village quietly going about their business when 2 whitties started sprinting through town, barefoot, through the mud and pouring rain in hot pursuit of who we worried was a thief. After Ben and I started to tire up the hills, we heard a scream behind us – in comes Gareth on the back of a local motorbike, yelling in the direction of the truck! All was to end well though as the driver had in fact followed our request and we found him happily unloading our gear to our home for the night behind the police shack. 

The "road"

Mud mud and more mud

Tim clearing the clay

Recovering after the road of mud

After much hearty discussion with some locals (seems everyone has an opinion when it comes to roads and weather), it seemed that the road may or may not harden up the next day, and we were facing the fact that we may be stuck for a few days before we could cycle out. Begrudgingly, we decided the only way out was via a truck that was leaving in the morning and could carry us to tarmac, where we could clean up, free our bikes of the concrete like clay and continue our journey. Negotiating a ride however, was easier said than done. Gareth the negotiation master decided to take on the responsibility of getting a truck at fair price and after starting at 500,000 shillings, he’d managed to talk the driver down to 137,000 ($50), while continually reminding him that he had “taken all of our money and we won’t be able to eat for days”…for those who know Gareth, I am sure you can picture him in this situation!!!! So with handshakes done, we were ready to board our truck. Just when we thought we were to be heading for safety though, the driver informed us that he just needed to “get a few more things” to take to town while he was taking us…..so an hour later he returns to where we were waiting with the truck JAMMED full of empty beer crates, about 15 local men, faming tools and even a TV. Our empty truck was no longer, as it seemed that every man in the village was keen to transport their goods to town on the back of the white guys money. When another local man flagged the truck down and tried to throw a few more potato sacks on, that was the last straw. Gareth and I protested enthusiastically and stormed off with Gareth yelling at the man for being “the only man in East Africa to lie to us so far”. Keen on our cash though, the truck followed us and after a tense standoff, we managed to unload some of their goods and get just enough room for all 5 of us, our bikes and luggage and soon enough, we were bumping down the “road” towards the holy grail of tarmac. As much as none of us wanted to get on that truck and would have preferred to cycle, within a few minutes, we were pleased with our decision, as we saw multiple trucks off the side of the road, one 4x4 being pulled up through the mud by a cable and ten men and motorbikes sliding all over – it was clear that there was no way we would have made it through the clay on our bikes – well, not without carrying them anyway. 

Ben rocking "the shirt" in the truck

Our ride over the mud

4X4 getting pulled up a hill

So for 2 hours and 40 bumpy km, we were holding on in the back of this old truck, trying desperately not to fall out, while balancing on empty beer crates and trying to make sure our bikes made it in one piece. When we were deposited safely on the first piece of tarmac we had seen in days our spirits immediately lifted. A very quick 15km cycle and we pulled in for a well earned rest day in Sipi Falls – a breathtaking series of water falls on the West side of Mt Elgon where we would spend a day cleaning up, re fuelling, clearing mud off bikes and beings and running trails along the beautiful falls.

After only our second day off so far, we decided it was time to make up some ground lost in the mountains. With 200km between Sipi and our next “do some stuff” town of Jinja, we decided to gun it over 2 days. Straight away we descended out of the mountains and picked up some free km’s down hills as Gareth notched the highest top speed of the trip at 70.4km/hr….pretty soon however, the few days on bumpy roads started to take their toll on the bikes. Thus far, we have been relatively lucky on the maintenance front, with only my tires causing any real issues. Today however, our luck turned. It started when Gareth’s rack decided to self destruct and split. As far as problems go, this is a fairly serious one given that the rack carries all your gear! However, a few tent pegs, electrical tape and zip ties later, we were back on the road…..for now…..not 20km later however, Ben’s rear wheel decided to start throwing spokes, then Hayley’s tyre decided to puncture just for fun! 

Gareth impromptu rack - electrical tape and tent pegs!

Awesome camp at Sipi falls

We recovered well though and knocked out over 100km for the day before setting up camp behind a wonderful families house, where Gareth, Tim and I joined the community at the local well, pumping water for a well-earned wash. Another 95km day and we have arrived in Jinja where we will rest for a day or 2 as we explore the area, set up camp and maybe do a spot of bungee jumping at the local adventure resort. Given that we have cycled over 10 hours in the last 2 days in 39 degree heat, continuously having to take “suncream breaks”, we figure we have earned it!

Ben doing it tough at Sipi

Onwards we cycle

Finally the day had arrived to get going on this adventure and the first morning we were greeted with warm sunshine and plenty of diesel smoke as we bustled our way out of the crazy traffic in Nairobi. Trucks wooshing by within inches of our handlebars would become a common occurrence as we climbed out of Nairobi. Not 25km into the trip our challenges began. Riding along there was a distinct popping sound coming from Craig’s bike. A truck backfiring was what everyone thought, but in fact it was the first tube to blow. Turns out the tube in Craig’s back wheel had failed – and would do so once more as we quickly realized that the spare tubes weren’t the right spec (note to self – NEVER trust the man in Evan’s cycle shop again!) Enter Francis the lifesaver – we had met him cycling along the road and he decided he would join us for our ride to Naivasha (approx 85kms), where he would leave us and promptly turn back for home. After the second popped tyre, the group was in somewhat despair as we realized the last spare tube available for Greg’s wheel was too thin and likely to pop again. Francis kindly donated his only spare tube, albeit for a 26” wheel, and made it work so we could keep rolling. His magic seemed to work, because pretty soon we were rolling down into the Rift Valley, stunning views to our left and ridiculously close trucks whizzing by on our right. Gareth was feeling left out so he decided to get a flat too, although this was repaired quickly and progress continued at a relatively respectable pace.

Rift Valley

Wondering exactly what we would do should Craig suffer another flat, our new best friend Francis told us that he would simply get some more tubes for us later in the evening (after cycling the few hours back home) and have them at our campsite for us at 9am. Furthermore, he refused to turn for home early, making sure he followed us to camp so he knew where to return the next day.

So an early camp and a quick dinner later and we were turning in for our first night camping in Kenya.

Fast forward 12 hours and Craig is waiting by the roadside wondering and hoping that Francis would be true to his word and turn up with the tubes….Suddenly in a flash of green and yellow, two cyclists whizzed by….surely not a coincidence, I stood up and went to the roadside where luckily they noticed me and returned. The first man to introduce himself was Kinja, lead rider and founder of a marvelous group called Safari Simbaz. Kinja’s mission was to assist underprivileged Kenyan boys stick to a healthy course in life and teach them bike mechanics and train them for the national team. I had read about his great work as I researched for this trip and it turns out, Francis is indeed one of his students. After a few minutes, one by one, his students rolled in, fresh from a 2 hour, 68km ride from home. The same ride took us at least 4 hours! Within minutes, the boys had tuned my rear derailleur, adjusted my brakes, hollowed out my rim to fit 2 types of valves, fitted new tubes and checked the bike over….all with a pair of scissors!

Kinja, Francis and the boys fix Craig's wheel

Check out Kinja and his team’s awesome work at www.safarisimbaz.com Inspiring stuff.

After this magical travel experience it was time to hit the road again. However given that it was fast turning into a late starting day, we decided to push on only a short distance further, before spending the day cycling and trekking through Hell’s Gate national parks. This park is one of the only ones on our trip where we will be allowed to cycle right through with nothing between us and the Buffaloes, Zebra’s, Giraffes and gazelles etc. We all agreed it was a stop worth making and were spellbound by the breathtaking landscape….definitely one of those “yep, we are in Africa” moments, not soon forgotten. That night, we were lucky enough to spot a few Hippo’s making their evening rounds munching weeds and reeds about 20m from our tent. The ranger assured us that the electric fence was there to protect us but judging by the growls and grunts we all kept waking to throughout the night, we weren’t so sure!

Hell's Gate National Park

Thankfully the next morning we rose and found all our tents and belongings in tact and pushed off for another day. Deciding to take the “scenic” route (read: ridiculously bumpy and sandy) around the lake, we soon found ourselves ankle deep in sand doing its best to tip us off our bikes. The price to pay for a fall in our group is one round of beers that evening, so it was amazing to see the stability and agility shown in tough conditions. We were rewarded for our choice of route however, as we were treated to roadside viewings of giraffes, warthogs and baboons as we cycled past farms and small villages, all interested in our presence. Later during the day we were greeted by a Dutch couple who had driven all the way from Holland and were bound for Cape town before shipping their vehicle to Australia for further travels. We were all inspired that these guys were still taking everything life had to offer and seeing lots of cool places along the way. We were more than a bit jealous of their custom built camper truck also! Finally out of the sand and rocks, we meandered along back on the main highway before getting our afternoon downpour that would soon become a common occurrence and opting to stay the night and a dusty town called Gilgil.

Tough riding around Lake Naivasha

Sunburn competition

Local Kids

Gareth helping the locals with dinner

Dutch couple bound for Australia and beyond

Rough riding....

So 3 days in, with only 150km or so behind us, we were all keen to get some miles done. That being said, the “fast” route always included highways and dangerous trucks, which was not what anyone was interested in, so we continued along the side roads in the general direction of where we needed to end up a few days later. The next few days were punctuated with steep climbing, fast descents and unforgettable experiences with local children, who all seemed happy and enthusiastic about our presence, albeit a bit curious as to why 5 whities were cycling through their tranquil and relaxed highland villages.

equator pass

Cycling over the equator, we finally thought we were making some real progress. Not half an hour later though, the familiar storm clouds rolled over our heads and it was high time to make camp. Cresting a hill we discovered a small little village we thought would be perfect to hole up for the night. Ben had quickly made friends with a local woman who let us camp behind her “house”….turns out it was the only pub in town….go figure! So that night consisted of sitting out a rainstorm inside a small pub, conversing with lots of drunk locals, amongst them an ex Sudanese soldier (we kept good friends with him). Dinner was hard to come by as there were no food shops in town – however with Gareths talking and willing, we managed to convince the local butcher to boil up the rice and potatoes we had been carrying. The fact that he had to start a fire from scratch before even starting meant we had a nice long wait – no troubles though as we were getting very well immersed in the local culture by then!

After a fairly intense day of climbing hills the following day, our afternoon quickly turned wet again as the storm clouds approached. Only haven cycled 58km in over 4hrs on the bike, some were keen to keep going, but the wise decision was made to pull up camp for the night as the storm rolled overhead. This time though, there were no pubs – even better – a semi abandoned police administration building that our new friend Sunny was happy to let us camp in. We even had our own armed soldier to keep us company for the night! Staying at a government building has its ups and downs though – turns out they start work at 6am! This meant an early day on the cycles for us. Not a bad idea though really, as we had set out to make the entire 130km to Kitale that day, where we would have our planned rest day, before heading into Uganda and around Mt Elgon. So this is where we are now, taking a well earned rest day after almost 500km of cycling up, down and around the Kenyan highlands, with wonderful landscapes, entertaining locals who have been extremely friendly and helpful and far too many dishes of beans and rice!

Tim getting assistance from locals..

Tomorrow we are off again and we have just heard that the road ahead is mud. Not dirt – MUD. So this is going to be interesting….

In the photos you may see a wonderfully coloured shirt donated by our friend Ebony to carry around Africa….this shirt has quickly been dubbed the “idiot shirt” and is to be worn by the person who did the silliest thing the previous day. Thus far, Tim has had the honour once, Craig twice and Gareth twice (once for chasing and trying to murder a local chicken)….the shirt is yet to be washed and I feel sorry for whoever gets it next after Craig just wore it for almost 7 hours yesterday!!!

Stupid shirt...

By far the most enjoyable experiences we have had thus far have all involved the people we have met – Francis and Kinja who saved Craig’s bike early on, Judi the pub owner who let us camp in her yard for the price of one beer and Sunny the policeman who kept us warm and safe in the dusty old police building. The kids however, are by far everyone’s highlights. I turn now to our guest write Ben Scott (sporting a new shaved head) to detail on how these experiences have pushed us along thus far;

Whenever planning a trip, the first thing we tend to think about are the “must-see’s” on the area we are visiting…in Africa it’s the wildlife, the National Parks, the landscapes, and the route is typically planned around these attractions. However, when the travels are done and we think back, it’s almost always the people and the culture which we remember most. And so far, cycling around Kenya, this couldn’t ring more true. The bewilderment and excitement on particularly the young children’s faces in remote villages and communities is something that really has been putting a huge grin on all our faces…”Mzungu!!!” (“white people!!!”) is a cry we have been getting used to hearing as we pedal along…young children, hiding in the bushes, semi-scared, semi-excited, screaming this out to all their friends. We ring our bells, smile and wave and before long they are running along beside us, “Jambo!”, “Habari Gani?”, “Who are you?!”. ..they keep up as we roll by, sometimes for kilometers, just laughing, yelling, staring...sometimes whole schools spill out onto the roadside, stopping us in our tracks, eager to have a chat, a laugh and a photo…little do they know they’re etched in our memories for just as long as we’re likely etched into theirs. 

Ben entertaining the kids

Local Kids

More rice, More beans!

Note: I will try and post more photos on our Flickr site soon but internet is quite temperamental….