It took us 3 hours to get out of Dar Es Salaam at 6 in the morning. As we pack the bike around 5:00 in South Beach, we are sweating already as the humidity is very high. I hate every second of it... dressed with bike boots, pants and jackets is not a pleasant thing in any conditions, but much more so in 100% humidity. Finally we load the bike and we head out... Few hundred meters later, Carmen tells me that we are missing a bag; I stop, look and discover that the bag with our DJI Phantom quadcopter and 360 camera is not there anymore. "But I packed it myself" I shout at Carmen. She looks at me confused... I look around and see that the netting that I tied the bag is loose, hanging between the muffler and the side case. I go back and find the bag, full of dust, somewhere in the bush. I pick it up, while the river Nile is flowing under my jacket, leaving traces of salt on my skin. I throw the bag under the net and open the throttle so I can get out of this place.
We jump on the dirty ferry from Kigomboni to Dar, it is full of vendors and bikes and people and everyone is gathering around our bike to examine closer. The stench is spectacular: between the sweat of the poor people, the fumes of the trucks and buses that never stop their engines, the rotten fish from the fish market nearby and the fact that I didn't brush my teeth make me want to throw myself into the Indian Ocean. It was the longest 9 minutes of my life.
Once on the other side, we jump on the bike and slowly make our way out of Dar; by 9:00 am!!! :(, three hours later.
As soon as you leave the coast, the road becomes windy and the air fresh and crisp. As we approach the mountains, humidity disappears and although still in the high 30's, it is a very pleasant ride. Northern Tanzania is extremely beautiful, with great aloe vera plantations, pineapple fields and lots of Jack fruit trees. The villages are cleaner and spread all over the hills and slowly we start seeing the great plains of the Masaai tribe with their great herds of cattle and amazingly colorful dresses.
Suddenly the road becomes bad with lots of deviations through soft sand and deep mud in places. It is getting cooler, as we see the clouds hanging on top of Kilimanjaro about 70 km away. We fall in mud, twice, I pick the bike and walk it out with the help of my engine and an old man that came to our help. Carmen is filming me deep in the mud while shouting at the old man to push. The poor guy is so small but he nevertheless pulls up his pants and helps me get out. I give him 1 dollar and he is ecstatic.
After 5 hours of negotiating the deviations, I am getting very tired. By the time we reach Arusha, it is 11 hours since we left Dar and we only made 650 km. As I pull into the hotel in Arusha, I shake so badly due to fatigue that I drop the bike on top of me in the middle of the road. People rush to help me but I just get out from under it and start kicking it like a mad man. Carmen, luckily, was already away from it, as she got out earlier to take some photos and she just witnesses this outrage.
We rest that night, sticky from the humidity in Dar and dusty from all the roadworks. Looking back to this now, we smile and keep all this as a fond memory of East Africa, but it wasn't so pretty at the time.
I spend some time alone in the balcony, while Carmen is taking a shower... How many unknown days ahead of us now? I am thinking of the road north of Nairobi, the road to hell as they call it. It is rainy season in Kenya and I am already reading blogs of other bikers that had major problems there. I love life on a bike... I think as I look at the beautiful Mt. Meru hovering above my head. I love the hustle and bustle of it all and I love the surprises that the trip throws at us every day.
Early morning, as I pack the bike, a few of the hotel guests are gathering around me, curious about the bike and us. Most of them are rich Somalis, dressed in fancy clothes and wearing great jewelry. They all took photos with us and displayed them very proudly on their phones.
We head out of town towards the north for the Kenyan border; 4 years ago I crossed the same road from Nairobi in two 4X4 cars and the road was terrible. It was under construction and we were forced to drive on the rocky side- road. Now, it is brand new: beautiful tarmac, winding through the majestic mountains and Masaai plains. It is 17 degrees now and I love the cold feeling of riding the bike. The bike loves it too.
We arrive quickly at the Kenyan border and while we got the visa fast, the customs is killing me over my bike. They are asking me for a Carnet de Passage and I keep telling them that being registered in Africa, my bike does not need a Carnet. For almost 2 hours we hassled in the Customs office and eventually they give me 7 days to get on the other side of the country at Moyale, Ethiopia.
The ride to Nairobi is eventless and we ride into Jungle Junction Camp around 4 pm. We set up camp and I go inside to meet the other overlanders: it is quiet here, compared to other times where you can meet here up to 60-70 people that from all over the place. Now, there are two South Africans that are coming from Europe with their Land Rover, an elderly couple with a large truck (he is Swiss and she is South African), 3 Japanese young people walking around the world and we find out that we just miss our friends from Finland, Heikki and Ulla that just left for Moyale on their BMW 1200 GS.
We speak a little bit with everyone, just to introduce ourselves and hit the mattresses. New country, new challenges.
1000 km, no accidents (other than dropping the bike and falling a couple of times), no issues with the bike, nothing seems to rattle or be loose on the bike, so I am content.
