After our Coke stop in Mosiro, the difficulty and the temperature both began to climb. It’s a track Panic and I know well, but Frogger and Rawlence were unaware what awaited. The first bit is fast, excellent stuff, slip-sliding hard-pack and round edged washouts, but after we paused for lunch, the story changed. It was first and second-gear riding over a bulldozer track through the bush over the volcanic stones. By now it must have been 45 degrees and everyone was feeling it. Frogger, though complaining ceaselessly about the heat, hopped around like a sprite while the rest of us ground along steadily. Whenever someone whinged too much, Panic would declare: You think this is tough? I did it on my Tenere! And he did, too:
HERE.
Above: Lunch spot in the "shade"
Definitely Frogger handles the tricky stuff the best of all of us. He’s not much bigger than a mid-sized hunting dog and twice as wiry. His scrawny, bowed legs grip the bike like a baby monkey grips his momma, and standing at full height on the pegs he perches behind the cockpit of the bike in a very relaxed position. We’re all jealous, but it occasionally haunts him… when he has to kickstart the bike on a side-hill for example.
The heat was taking its toll, so I waited like a good guy to see that Rawlence made it past a tricky little sandy river crossing with a steep escape. He cleared it easily, so I set off up the trail but waiting in ambush was my good buddy Panic, throttle full open, front brake pulled, roosting a spray of stones and sand at me that hit with astonishing force and accuracy. As far as roosts go, this one was top-notch, and made deadlier as I had not yet put my helmet’s screen back down yet and was forced to stop, (nearly toppling over) hide my face and just wait for my punishment to end. Panic claimed it was payback from a roost I’d given them earlier (of which I of course have no recollection...).
There was one really loose rocky riverbed crossing to go before we hit the open plains and could blast our way to a cold(ish) beer in Nguruman. Three of us made it, but Rawlence bit the dust at the top. I hiked back to give him a hand in exchange for taking a pic of him in his moment of dismay. Can I help it if I’m a quick draw with the camera? I went down twice that day with witnesses, but there’s no evidence. Walking less than 100 feet up and down a rocky hill in the heat was enough for me. When we hit the plains, we opened up and never looked back.
In Nguruman we confirmed with our man Molilo that tomorrow he would open the gate to the road leading up to the Loitas. I met him a year ago and he assured me that bikes could and do pass often, as well as trucks and 4x4s, and that he was the man who held the key to the gate at the bottom. For a modest access fee, we would be welcomed. While we sipped beers in Nguruman, he reiterated this. We left the bar in high spirits and zipped down to the Ewasso Nyiro river (Muddy River) to our favorite campsite.
We buzzed through the horribly dusty approach to the campsite, a place Panic and I have come several times. You ride down a steep decline to a sand bank with round river stones everywhere. It’s a lovely place to camp with the muddy river lazily meandering around you down through a shady tunnel of river trees.
*ATTENTION * AVISO * ACHTUNG* The following events happened exactly as I narrate. Do not let Rawlence tell you otherwise.
I was first down the bank, followed by Panic and Frogger. The three of us had cut our engines, removed our helmets and were talking about where to set up the tents and how to arrange the bikes. Rawlence, meanwhile, is still on the bike, churning up sand and riding around the small space, being a nuisance. I thought he was looking for a stone to place under the kickstand or something.
Then he yells: “Is the river deep?” (He won’t dispute this).
I yell back “Not really” not thinking anything of it and proceed with unpacking.
Next thing I know, out of the corner of my eye I see him riding down the bank and straight into the river. The water immediately goes over his boots, then the engine and as he revs, he digs himself in up to the seat! Apparently, Rawlence thought it would be cool to camp on the opposite bank.
He got lucky. Frogger waded in to help him and almost vanished, just a meter to the left. It was comic gold. Rawlence got the obligatory ogling Masai guy to help him and Frogger push the bike over and back again and then Panic helped them drain the pipe and carb.
Above: Rawlence’s SCUBA moment at the Ewaso Nyiro
Once the bike was running and the tents were all up, we commenced with chilling out. We cooled off in the river, cooked up our Ration Packs and did away with the better part of a liter of Black. Rawlence tried repeatedly and unsuccessfully to blame yours truly, dear reader, for his epic blunder in the river, suggesting that I had egged him on by saying the water wasn't deep and that I should have surmised that he would be daft enough to try to ford it. Frogger said putain a lot and practiced some of his American cussin. I encouraged him to watch
Deadwood series to see it done right. Panic laughed heartily and said "Oooooh Yeees!" a lot. It was a good laugh, but the weather was unsteady; one minute still and hot, the next a drizzle or heavy dust-blowing winds. Eventually, around 10 the clouds settled in for a decent rain and we all hit the sack.
Above: Some things can not be unseen...
Above: Frogger asked me to brush him up in Photoshop so he can show off to the lasses. I got you fam.
To be continued...
Topic: 2018 - Big Red Pigs in Kenya (Read 13981 times)
