Well, the last 10
days since leaving Addis Ababa have been probably
some of
the most eventful and enjoyable days of the whole
trip.
So much has happened that I’ve decided to sub-head
this journal so as to
keep it tidy.
Addis Ababa to Yavello via the Omo Valley
After a leisurely final breakfast with the cyclists,
Leah and Simon, I set
off for the Omo valley.
It was a wicked day and I was enjoying the scenery
so much, that I only
covered 170km before deciding to spend the night
at Lake Langano, one of the
Rift Valley Lakes.
I camped on the shoreline and went for a swim
before watching the sun set
over the distant escarpment, followed shortly
by an incredible moonrise.
Next morning I was packed and ready to go before
8 only to discover that my
bike battery, which has been suffering major abuse
on these roads, had given
up the ghost.
This basically means that for the last week, I
have had the pleasure of push
starting my bike every morning.
I was soon on my way and heading into the Omo
district of Ethiopia. Very
quickly, the road narrowed and I started climbing
steeply into a lushly
vegetated region.
The place was full of mango and banana plantations,
as well as fields of
rapidly ripening corn.
The people here though were even worse than rest
of Ethiopia for begging.
For example:
Having stopped along the road for a short break,
2 farmers came out from
amongst the bushes alongside the road and proceeded
to beg very convincingly
for food, until I looked around and saw a large
field full of ripe corn in
the direction from where they had come!
I think the Aid Agencies that operate here in
Ethiopia have to take a lot of
blame for this ‘expectant beggar culture’
which has been created in this
country. It’s time that free handouts were
stopped and self-help schemes
were created instead.
I arrived at Arba Minch, the end of the tarred
road, at mid-afternoon and
found a hotel which had a fantastic view over
2 more rift valley lakes.
After enquiring about the possibility of making
it further into the Omo
valley for the following day, I prepared my bike
for the ordeal by putting
on my bog tyres and adjusting my suspension.
The following morning found me back on dirt road
with signs of recent heavy
rains around me. Within 20km, I had to ford the
first of 6 running rivers
for the day.
Having successfully crossed it, the road, although
generally dry, was full
of challenging obstacles: Large herds of big-horned
cows, truck ruts,
wash-aways and a queue of trucks held up by a
bogged down trailer.
Towards mid-afternoon, I came to the biggest river
I would need to cross,
12m wide and knee deep.
So, after scouting it out, I paid 3 locals to
port my luggage across,
stationed 2 more in the river at the deepest part
and drove in.
Unfortunately, my bike’s rear tyre lost traction,
followed by the engine
cutting out. Once the bike was on dry land again,
I stripped her down,
drained the carb, checked for signs of water in
the engine (there was none)
then put her back together and fired her up.
Whilst doing this, a Hilux came up behind me and
got terribly stuck in the
river.
20km later, I was thrilled to make Konso, my
days destination which some
people had told me I would not achieve.
The following day was even more fun and eventful.
Just out of Konso, I took
a left turn at a fork in the road and proceeded
to drive 30km out of my way
and into some fantastic scenery. The detour was
worth it though as the
scenery was incredible. I was so far into the
middle of nowhere that most of
the villagers I saw were running away when they
saw the bike!
After a few hours I had to cross a recently flooded
floodplain, about 150m
wide. As I got to the other side, I managed to
get the bike stuck up to her
rear axle in mud. There followed 30 minutes of
muddy sweaty work to pull her
out. Just as I got her unstuck I realized that
I was not on the road to
Yavello and would have to turn her around, cross
the river again and
backtrack 30km.
Once on the correct road, which was still in bad
nick, I had the pleasure of
having to run what looked to me like an ambush
situation and then, further
up the road, a roadblock in a village full of
nasty looking individuals.
The roadblock would probably have been quite safe
to stop at, but by that
stage I was feeling quite paranoid and wasn’t
going to take any chances.
Arriving at Yavello, I celebrated my little jaunt
into the Omo valley with a
stiff whiskey and started planning my trip back
to this region next year via
Lake Turkana in Kenya. (any bikers keen to join
me, let me know)
Here I met up with Paul’s private overland
truck, so that we could ride in
convoy through Kenya’s banditlands.
The 200km from Yavello to the Kenyan border at
Moyale was uneventful, if you
could ignore the fact that the truck was prevented
from leaving the hotel at
gunpoint for not paying double the agreed rate!
The 500 odd km from the border at Moyale into
Isiolo in Kenya is billed as
the worst road to cross on the eastern half of
Africa. Not that there aren't
worse or more technical roads en route, but more
a combination of things.
First, there is the threat of bandits, maiking
it unsafe to bushcamp through
this area, so you are foced to cover the 250km
to Marsabit in one day and
then the same again to Isiolo.
Secondly, the road. Although it is not a technical
dirt track, it is very
tiring and requires heaps of concentration. The
surface is constantly
changing, requiring subtle changes in riding style.
The road is never
regraded, so in places it is one long corrugated,
potholed nightmare.
Ordinarily with corrugations, if you stand up
on the pegs and get speed up
to about 80, your ride becomes smooth as you just
fly over the bumps.
Unfortunately, this was not possible here because
there were too many
potholes in the road. This meant that I was reduced
to a bone-jarring
30-45km/hr for these sections. (I fared better
than the truck, it averaged
only 25km/hr)
We also encountered long stretches of loose volcanic
rock, requiring great
concentration to avoid the jagged bits waiting
to cut/puncture any tyre
which came close to them.
The view along the way? I think it was pretty
good, didn't get to see much
more than the road ahaed of me!
Actually, I got to stop quite a lot along the
way as I waited for the truck.
I spent a lot of time speaking to the local herdsmen
( most spoke excellent
english) about absolutely anything: Lion trouble,
how to kill hyenas, the
latest Kenyan president etc etc.
It was good fun.
After 2 10 hour days of hard riding we were all
pleased to make it into
Isiolo, where we found a campsite with a large
bar and all got very drunk
and patted ourselves on the back in self congratulation.
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