BUENOS AIRES APRIL 2013

29/3/2013

   Meticulous planning had me arriving on Good Friday and sitting out the holidays waiting for the bike. Need to get more wt off, 19 hr flight squashed between the arm rests is not the most comfortable way to travel and having to be greased up to squeeze into a Buenos Aires Taxi has motivated me to slim down.
  A lot of reading and listening had me think that Buenos Aires was a sort of war zone with muggers lining up to take turns on the tourists.
  Discovered why the hotel was so reasonably priced.To be fair, a smaller person would have been able to fit in the room together with the baggage and it was clean.



30/3/2013



 Breakfast buffet was worth the price of the room alone.
 Turns out there is such a thing as a free lunch. At least when the restaurant accepts dollars at 50% more than the official exchange rate there is.
 Nice to have a sleep in the afternoon, especially after eating a char-grilled cow. It's fairly obvious that this is not the place to lose wt or expect my gout to go away.



3/4/2013



 Good news, bike loaded in Capetown.
 Bad news, bike off loaded in Johannesburg

 Promised now for Friday 5th.meaning clearance on Monday 8th.

 Discovered that floods were devastating the city, I guess I was just in the right place as apart from a bit of rain there was nothing untoward in central Buenos Aires.




5/4/2013

 Visited Javier and Sandra at Dakar Motos to check all in order for getting the bike tomorrow. 



vaya con dios

8/4/13



  After a weekend involving Salsa, meat, tango, meat, cemetery and more meat arrived at the airport to clear the bike.The whole process was painless and the value of using somebody who knows what they are doing and what is required was obvious.The bike was cleared in a couple of hours.

  Followed Javier back to their place.I hadn't realised how fast my heart could beat without having a heart attack. Threading through the Buenos Aires traffic is exhilerating to say the least, luckily my speedo was not working but I do know that nobody was going faster.My hands could be prised free of the bars after about ten minutes and with clean underwear I was good to go.

 Many thanks to Javier and Sandra for all the help.Once again no matter how impressive the landscapes,  people  leave the lasting impressions.

February 2013 Preparing for South America

Returned to South Africa to arrange the bike transport to Buenos Aires.Completely different view of the place in the sunshine and arriving by air.Definitely a country to return to. I think I'll run out of breath before I run out of places to return to.
  The bike was delivered to Menzies air at Capetown Airport Cargo and after clearing through customs the job was done. Bradly Van Wyk at Menzies could not have been more helpful and even agreed to store the bike for a month before shipping ( free of charge ).
 Airfreight will go around the 29 March and due to public holidays in Argentina will be cleared around the 5 April .

 Many thanks to Tony for all his help in South Africa, it must be a relief to have his lounge back.

July 2012, KAMPALA TO CAPETOWN

Kampala to Bukoba.



  Set off early Sunday morning to miss the traffic chaos and made good time to the Equator for a coffee stop at Aid Child.


 Not much traffic  going my way and the border with Tanzania was reached and crossed with minimum delay.No need for the touts at the border as Tanzanian money is freely available in Kampala.Funny how, in all the chaos there is some sort of order and things get done, seemingly against all odds.


 I had accomodation pre-booked for the first night and headed for Bukoba to find it. I have often wondered what would happen if I dropped the bike, and, like many things we worry about, I was about to find out. A novel system is in place in Tanzania wherin they put a barrier across the main road and then screen the traffic so that the trucks are diverted over a weighbridge.Being a little confused and having been waved around one or two roadblocks I took it on myself to find my own way around one.It just so happened that this block had been set up near a crowded bus stop and a friendly local decided to yell a greeting just as i was nervously negotiating through a narrow gap.Imagine my surprise when i jammed on the brakes and discovered that there was no way to get my feet down,at least not until the bike had reached an angle at which it was impossible for me to hold the wt .I suppose all clouds have a silver lining and having been royally entertained, the bus stop crowd  felt obliged to help me pick the bike up.Luckily I was seated on the bike and in gear before the request for payment was made.
 Embarrassed, I got to Bukoba and, while getting  funds from an ATM,was approached by a friendly local youth on a bike.He told me he and his cousin were keen bikers and it wasn't long before his cousin turned up on a GS1200 to greet us and lead the way to the Balamaga Bed and Breakfast where we had booked.The cousin happened to be the Local Toyota garage owner and a keen biker and motorist to boot.
   Perusing my A4 printout of the map of Tanzania together with the 4" screen of my GPS the enormity of the task ahead became apparent and I realised out that the road was longer than I had bargained for.It may be cheaper to prepay flights but it certainly increases the stress levels when faced with a 4000+ mile ride over unknown roads to get to the airport.



Bukoba to Isaka



 Nothing remarkable on this journey except the roadworks and having gained experience the day before dropping the near stationary bike I went one stage further and fell off the moving bike.Not wanting to stray too far from the established method the bike decided to skid out of control in front of an audience of roadworkers.They say every cloud has a silver lining and I suppose that while I find it almost impossible to ride on thick powder and it is very embarrassing to fall off in front of an audience at least there is a soft landing and eager hands to lift the bike.
  Luckily there was little damage and I was able to carry out roadside repairs to the bike with my insulating tape,my pride  took a little more of a battering than the bike as I was led through the sand and dust out of the roadworks by a 100cc Chinese Boda Boda(taxi bike) me following meekly on my big Adventure Bike.Once on the tarmac again I soon returned to full confidence just praying there was no more offroading to be done.
     Isaka was the first taste of finding local hotels as I was nowhere near the tourist route.For 10 dollars a clean en-suite room was found in an hotel just off the main street.Admittedly the food was nothing to write home about and only remained briefly in my stomach but the room was fine.When out for a stroll later I did wonder why there were so many waitresses in the outdoor bar/club but I guess that was just  because the mainly male clientele demanded good personal service.



Isaka to Singida



 Nothing out of the ordinary except the bike remained upright and the roads were good.On the entry to Singida at a vehicle check I enquired about hotels and was directed to a small lodge on the edge of town.Lodge really doesn't give the idea as it seems to mean just a small hotel in these parts.Whatever it means this one was excellent and at 40 dollars the night for a two room chalet and very good food I was in heaven.



Singida to Dodoma



Imagine the surprise to come out after breakfast to find that something had happened to your bike.After the fun in the sand the previous day and the joy at finding such good lodgings I had just disgustedly dumped the bike in the car park and left the accumulated dust and dirt  for another day .What I came back to was a gleaming bike with a proud elderly Askari standing nearby. How could I not, he had made my day so I made his.His face was gleaming as bright as the bike as I rode off.

 I thought to myself that all was now well with the world and made good progress on good roads towards the Capital of Tanzania, Dodoma. I knew that the traffic would not be too bad there and was confident of finding good lodgings for the night, maybe even spoil myself with a five star and a good meal.

 Surprisingly the journey is a bit strange when there is nothing about and the roads are good, just mile after mile through open countryside and Dodoma soon came.I had the name of a good hotel in my GPS and followed the directions given.It's true I was a bit surprised that I turned off the Tarmac onto a potholed dirt track but surely the GPS could not be wrong.After carefully negotiating my way through the market stalls and finding my way out of a particularly large pothole I looked up and there it was, the Dodoma Grand Hotel.It seems there is some variation on peoples perception of Grand.I realised that it was true one swallow doesn't make a summer, I also realised that Capital or no Capital, Dodoma was a bit of a hole, in fact it was a particular type of a hole.
 Eventually settled in a room at the Royal Crown hotel which even though it looked as if it had been built by first year building students for a bet, was clean. One thing I have noticed is that in all these local ( well most anyway) you can get all the services of a five star hotel but just on a different level so having run to the local shop to buy soap powder one of the staff waited at the door while I got out of my riding gear so that they could take it away to wash and iron it. Admittedly it was an extra cost but it was worth the dollar they asked for.
 At this stage of the journey I was still wary of the food hygiene and am becoming an expert on plain spaghetti.Just a thought but maybe I should alert the European law makers as to the flagrant misuse of the name Bolognaise.




Dodoma to Iringa



The distance between Dodoma and Iringa is aproximately 250 kms however in practice it is 576 kms if keeping to tarmac.The only thing to say is the road was tarmac and in good condition but thanks I had my head down going for it trying to get to the airport in time. The further South I was getting the better the infrastructure seems, Iringa was a busy town and there seemed to be a few hotels in the centre but for some reason I don't like staying in the town centres and prefer to find a place on the road in. After asking around for a nice hotel I set off looking and spotted a sign directing a couple of km up a dirt track to a lodge.Any road up it was like an oasis in the desert, very nice rooms with very nice food comfy bed and a good nights sleep.



Iringa to Mbeya



 The going is easy but is feeling relentless now.Getting up every day knowing that any delay will result in missed flights.Once again a decent hotel, passable food and a comfortable bed. One thing has been constant,   everynight so far the olympic highlights have been enjoyed in the room, mainly on flatscreen tvs.and every night the rooms have been en-suite.Quite remarkable at between 10 and 40 dollars per night.This particular hotel was without a lift but I was not allowed to carry my own bags up the stairs and in the morning after my wake up call somebody appeared to carry them back down.The service might be a little different to our Western style but generally the " give a shit " factor is quite high.




Mbeya (tz) to Mpika (Zam)



 After what has seemed like a lifetime the border to Zambia will be crossed and thanks to meticulous planning I arrive 1 hour before it opens giving me plenty of time to practice my defense techniques fending off the touts.I am slowly changing my opinion of these guys, after all what is the difference between a busker and a headline act in Las Vegas, they both do the same job.Another thing is that they are out there on the frontline trying to make money.These border crossings are all relatively easy and as long as good humour is maintained the officials are friendly and helpful.I suppose if I was a famous person trying to make money from the enterprise I would have to pretend that the machinations of officialdom are impossible for any layperson to fathom and have to have special fixers available at every border. Or maybe it just that I am dead good.There was an interesting addition entering Zambia as I had to pay road tax to help with the upkeep.I made the obligatory bleating noises about being ripped off but later could appreciate that the money was well spent, the Zambian roads being very good.
 It felt good to get underway and leave the border behind, riding through unbroken countryside smiling to myself about how good life is as i spotted Zebra, Buck, monkeys etc.I suppose it is a result of getting used to travelling in remote areas that the subconcious registers certain things and when my GPS reminded me to fill up I realised that in the last 150 miles I had not seen a single garage. No need to panic as I always fill to the gunnels before stopping at night and I have the warning set to come on at half a tank.At the by-pass to Isoka I followed a sign to a Total filling station to find some boys with a drum.Naturally I refused as I didn't know the provenance of the fuel they were selling.
 After a further 100 miles I started to get a little concerned but luckily, according to the laws of market forces   fuel was available at the roadside, again from a drum but this time I gratefully accepted being ripped off and continued on my way, all was good with the world once again.Some things are hard to believe and 300 miles with out a fuel station is one of them.

 Mpika is like a trading town and is pretty underdeveloped but there was a choice of hotels and I selected the Mango lodge which was reputed to be the best ( in the opinion of the pump attendant anyway).Basic doesn't quite hit the mark perhaps functional is a better word but the chalet I had was clean enough with en-suite bathroom.The Flatscreen TV looked slightly out of place fixed to the wall above a trestle table, sorry, vanity top.

 
The restaurant brought a whole new experience to dining but I do
feel that if they are not going to clean the kitchen for what must have been weeks, surely they should keep the door closed. Anyway, as soon as I could get my feet free of the sticky floor a hasty retreat was beaten, I am just not that brave.



Mpika to Lusaka



 Not a lot to say really, good roads, good progress and a very very nice hotel in Lusaka.Riding through Lusaka it was evident that conditions are improving and the infrastructure is much better.The hotel was definitely very high standard  and the food excellent.The going might be very boring now but life was getting better.

 



Lusaka to Livingstone.



 Once again, good roads and boring. Livingstone is a tourist destination and as such is well kempt and organised with the western hotels at western prices.



Livingstone to Botswana via Zimbabwe



 Set off bright and early over the Victoria bridge and to my shame glanced over to see the falls and carried on without so much as a photo. The bridge came as a bit of a surprise in much the same way as the Alamo, I was expecting something much more.
 The exit from Zambia was a simple affair and the entry into Zimbabwe not what I had expected. Based on education by the tabloid news channel I was expecting to find a chaotic shambles and open hostility. Instead I was treated courteously and the passage was without problems, I even received change from the immigration when paying for the visa.I won't say it's a first but it's certainly unusual.
           I realize that I only traveled a relatively short distance across the tip of Zimbabwe but the road was good and the town I passed through was decidedly western in appearance.Out of Zimbabwe and into Botswana was simple enough but it was evident that this was the start of the African dream for lots of people, we are definitely in tourist land now.The knotted hankies are replaced by Out of Africa ensembles and the coaches by 4 wheel drives towing trailors loaded with kitchen sinks.
 I came to know another truth about travelling long distances in ignorance and that is that you don't worry about an unknown inevitable.I don't know if it was crossing the Zambezi but it was decidedly fresh now and the best was yet to come.
 The roads now are excellent, in fact it seems that they have a spare one for when the main one is under repair.There was a bit of a nip in the air so a stop seemed a good idea when a big lodge sucked us in.?The price seemed a little steep but what the hell, this seemed the real deal. I am sure that when the weather is good the lodges are superb, just the thing as a base when gamespotting on the nearby salt flats. However the open air shower and toilet and the lack of draughtproofing has meant that I now know what it must be like to be locked in a freezer.The only saving grace was that the duvet was superb and I didn't have to get undressed to go to bed.
 Not a lot else to say about Botswana just good roads and dishonest police doing me a favour  reducing the fine by cutting out the middleman and the admininistrative paperwork.I don't know if it's the corruption or the fact that they can't even be bothered to get out of their vehicles that grates the most.The hotel in Gaborone was good but the going was getting cold and boring with the date fast approaching to catch the flights back.Word from Capetown was that bad weather fronts were due at about the same time I was due to arrive.



Gaborone to Capetown



 The crossing into South Africa was simple and well organised but papers had to be issued for the laptop and camera before the journey could continue.
  The going was easy and the infrastructure was well developed but there was an uneasiness everytime we stopped. Even small towns had a squatter camp attached and this seemed to mean plenty of bike minders available at every stop.Walking around the supermarket carrying helmet, GPS etc as well as the basket is not easy.The weather was getting colder, farms guest houses etc all seemed less "african" and progress was easier.

 A night in what seemed like a five star hotel was pleasant enough but it's a bit strange being one of
two guests.The hotel evidently belonged to a politician.
 Did I mention the weather was getting steadily worse. Set off in cold and wind towards Capetown. Estimated two days riding and three days to the flights.Wind getting stronger and stronger and the landscape getting more and more open.Spent about three hours in a filling station cafe debating whether to continue or wait out the weather, advice coming from all corners and directions to local accomodation volunteered from the by now panel of experts I made an executive decision and reasoning that the wind could not get much worse than it does on the autoroute de soleil I set off, after all I am an adventurer now. I was of course right, the wind was not worse than I have experienced on many occasions. The sleet and hammering rain was admittedly and addition but the wind was not worse.
 Arrived at a roadside hotel on the Karoo like a bedraggled frozen rat ( I had not drowned ). Its quite difficult counting money when shaking uncontrollably but I have to say that when I had had a shower and thawed out I felt proud of the achievement and was happy I hadn't wimped out. The food was otherworldly and in the afterglow of a fantastic lunch I realised that the feeling of achievement and satisfaction at overcoming the odds is what this journey is all about.
 What a difference a day makes. The ride down from the Karoo and to CapeTown was completed in sunshine on good roads and Sunday traffic.Finally arrived at friend Tony in Bettys Bay to a very nice welcome. Job Done.

KAMPALA-KIGALE-KAMPALA

Time to get back on the road not least because the temporary import papers needed changing.Set off for Rwanda on Saturday early morning and after playing chicken with the Kampala traffic got out en Route for the first night stop in Kabale. Coffee stop at Aids Child on the Equator and another pitstop in Mbarara.

 One of the exciting things about travelling through countries where licences are virtually available to anybody who can afford the price is that you learn all sorts of manoeuvres that you would never see in Europe, ( or wish to see). I now know exactly to the centimetre how much space I can survive with when oncoming tankers decide that when overtaking, they have priority on my side of the road. I spent the rest of the journey wondering what the smell was but on arrival at the hotel my trousers were easily washed and where dry for the morning.

 There was a TV documentary made by a well known celebrity that followed virtually the same route as I have been taking.The further I travel the more I come to the conclusion that theirs was a virtual journey sensationalising things to make better television. anyway without using "fixers" the border formalities ( out from Uganda and into Rwanda )  were completed in less than an hour and I was on my way.

 Kigale came as a bit of a surprise and I began to wonder if it was still Africa.Not a big capital admittedly but drivers followed rules, motorcycle taxis and their passengers used helmets and there was a complete lack of litter.

 

 

 Nice surprise at Kigale Serena hotel when the room was upgraded to a junior suite, mind you the room-rate would have bought a small house in the town.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 The main thing to do in Kigale is visit the genocide museum. It is hard not to be moved at these places and to accept that these atrocities were carried out by human beings on other human beings.The feelings evoked are similar to those at Auswitz.Evil transcends continents but perhaps the saddest part is that the world stood by watching and let it happen even allowing for there being no oil.
 The journey back was a reversal of the outwood leg and I am getting used to crowds gathering when I stop.

ADDIS ABABA TO KAMPALA

18/10/11

 Arrived in Addis and checked into hotel, slumming it at the Hilton.

22/10/11

 I couldn't put it off any longer and set off about 9 in the morning.Given the light volume of traffic in Addis it came as a bit of a shock to spend almost three hours to cover 70 kms to Mojo. Not to worry as when I turned off onto route 6 the traffic suddenly was no more and the open road to the back of beyond stretched ahead.I passed through Shashemene, the town famous to Rastas the world over.Surprisingly I didn't see any followers or even ganja growing at the road side.
   I had pre-booked accomodation at a Lodge for the first night and arrived about three in the afternoon.What a nice surprise to find simple,clean,comfortable rooms with excellent food.The nerves of heading off alone in the Dark Continent disapeared and I spent a pleasant evening putting all the worlds problems to rights in the company of a group of Dutch tourists who took pity on an old man eating alone.

 I have been surprised at the number of people about, even in the deep countryside it seemed there were always plenty of people , and I had come to the conclusion that the roads were not just for vehicular traffic but also as a meeting place for social gatherings, as well as a good place to walk and to herd all types of animals from Donkeys to Cattle and Camels.In fact riding through the villages was like riding through crowds in a theme park.

23/10/11

 Heading for Yavello to a Motel recommended by the Dutch tour guide easy progress on decent roads.My arm is starting to get tired from waving to people as I pass by.I wonder what people would make of a traveller waving to everybody in the UK.
 Parked the bike at the Motel and then had to move it as wedding preparations were made around my parking place. My transport now has pride of place in some Ethiopian Brides wedding album judging by the number of photographs taken with the bride next to it and some of the bridesmaids sitting on it!!!!.

 After two days riding into darkest Africa I spent the rest of the afternoon watching the Sunday afternoon premiership match.

24/10/11

Today's the day.The Kenyan border at Moyale is the target followed by 500 kms of what is considered to be the worst road in Africa both condition wise but also supposedly through bandit country. Surprisingly little traffic on the road and suddenly I was in Moyale. I have a thirty litre tank but was a bit concerned as to whether it would be enough for what was to come. I met an Australian coming the other way and we exchanged information, I learned of the state of the road after the recent rains and how other bikers had got stuck the day before.Is it bad to curse the rain when cattle have been dieing in the drought??
 The border crossing was surprisingly easy and after a short wait for the immigration officer on the Kenyan side to come back from lunch the formalities were over. I keep expecting somebody to ask for something but so far in Africa everything has been straight forward and honest. I don't know whether I am getting used to dealing with officialdom at the borders but simply by passing the time of day with the Immigration officer to discuss my trip he gave me his telephone number so that I could call him if I got any problems along the way, must try that at Manchester airport next time.

 The Kenyan side of Moyale is more neglected than the Ethiopian side but I was directed to what I was told was the best hotel in town,the Barak. I had to ask the owner who was seated outside if it was in fact an hotel as the clinic sign was a bit confusing. The Burka clad receptionist told me with a twinkle in her eyes that the hotel was in fact the Moyale Hilton and of course the rooms were en-suite. Actually after climbing two flights of stairs to get above the clinic the hotel was not at all bad and was at least clean with hot water and a comfortable bed. Down below the Ghat chewing armed Askari assured me he would keep a good eye on my bike and that he would be there the whole night.
 There was one vital piece of information passed to me by Peter, the Australian biker and I made my arrangements through the hotel owner for the hire of a pick up to carry me and the bike for the next 500 kms.
 It's difficult to describe Kenyan Moyale but it is similar in feel to a lawless wildwest town in a John Wayne movie. There was a market of sorts set in the mud selling everything from carrots to sacks of tabacco and bunches of Ghat.Now I have never experienced the delights of Ghat but judging by the demeaner of those that partook I can only assume that it is like some sort of aneasthetic that makes lazing about either pleasant or at least acceptable.The hotel owners son came and sat with me as I ate asking about the bike and journey etc, I can't imagine what it must be like to wake up day after day in a town without a decent road out of it, especially a garden spot such as Moyale.Perhaps that explains the need for the copious amounts of Ghat.

25/10/11

 Up early and waiting outside for the pick-up at 7am. The driver arrived fairly punctually for Africa and I followed him to a dock for loading the bike onto the back of the land-cruiser.Actually Dock suggests some built for purpose construction when in fact it was just a pile of earth at the side of the road.The next half hour was a little stressful as 8 completely unskilled helpers endeavoured to manhandle my pride and joy onto the back of the truck, miraculously it was done without any damage to the bike and my blood pressure gradually returned to normal.Despite having negotiated with the truck owner for the labour being included in the price I was still treated to the tales of how they all have families and have to eat etc, etc.
  With the bike secured off we went, we being me, the driver and a passenger scrunched up on the bed of the pick up.I don't know how much he paid but 10 hours being thrown about on one of the worst roads known to man meant that it certainly wasn't a bargain.To describe the route as a track is a bit wrong, it would be difficult to even walk over it in parts and where there was no mud there was loose shale or volcanic rock.I felt that in a way I was cheating but having calculated the cost of replacing suspensions or tyres I satisfied myself that it was the right thing to do.
 The driver was a good guy and the time past quickly enough.He knew all the police at the road-blocks along the way and there were only minimal hold-ups.
 There were villages along the route that made me wonder why they were there.The driver enlightened me that they had set up so that it was easier for the food to be delivered every-month. It seems that this is a social model that has been exported from the UK.
 This is the real Africa that we imagine, tribes people in colourful tribal costume, baboons along the road as well as the odd Zebra and God knows what else lurking in the bushes. for the most part the land was flat and on one occasion when we stopped to check the bike a young boy complete with spear came loping from what seemed miles away to ask if we had any water.It was an incredible experience to see people living and dressing as they must have done for hundreds of years just going about their business and tending their livestock.
 This route from Moyale to Isiolo is known to have the occasional bandit and the driver told me that yes there were bandits but they generally only bothered the lorries and that anyway the pick up was the same colour as the police pickups so the bandits ( if they were about) would run away. That just left the tribal fighting to worry about .Being inquisitive and given that we were to pass through the area of the fighting I asked if the two factions were shooting at each other.The driver thought this quite amusing and when we reached the area around Archers Post he showed me the piles of rocks that were used as ammunition for throwing at each other.
 The Chinese built blacktop started well before Isiolo and the whole feel of the country changed. The dirt track didn't seem to intrude and split communities the way that the tarmac road did. I spent the night at The Northern Galaxy executive hotel in Isiolo, 15 Dollars with breakfast and very good value for a clean en-suite bedroom. Granted the top floor hadn,t yet been added but I slept well.

26/10/11

 Set off bright and early for a short run for the day to Nanyuki.
    I have to admit to being a bit confused at this point.Discussing the route with the driver the day before he had told me it was a long way to Eldoret from Isiolo but my GPS told me different so I figured that I knew better that the Kenyan professional and arriving at Nanyuki well before lunch-time I decided to carry on to Nyahururu. I think it is absolutely wonderful that my free download from Open -Street dot org has 75 km long dirt track short-cuts. I did see the odd person and there is evidently a problem with elephants as I rode under numerous devices for dissuading elephants from passing but eventually I came out the other end in one piece much more experienced at off road riding!!!!

 At Thomsons Lodge I discovered that tourists are treated as targets.The lodge had seen better days to put it mildly and the price quoted was astronomical especially for the sub-standard room I was given. They did reduce the price slightly when I squeeled for long enough and I accepted only because I was tired after the exertions from my GPS induced adventure ride.For less than half the price I had had better food and accomodation in the local " Executive " style hotels. Things were not all bad however as I got a proposal of marriage from one of  the femaleTribes people that posed for photos at the nearby Thompson falls.

27/10/11

  Reached todays Target of Eldoret and having passed many Hotels on the way into town decided to stop on the far side to facilitate the getaway in the morning.I have discovered a new Murphies law stating that having passed numerous hotels and deciding to stop at the next one, there is no next one. Falling back on the old strategy of asking at a Petrol station I was given directions to a nearby Lakeside Resort.I found the building with the car on the roof , figured out which track led to the resort and eventually worked out a way to get across the roadworks.I found the resort. It wasn't exactly what my mind had imagined and I am sure when it is finished it will be nice but it was cheap and clean. The owner, Timothy, went out of his way to make sure all was ok for me and he assured me that there would be Jerry cans of hot water any time I wanted a shower. Seriously, even though there was no running water for the shower and the building was not finished, the rooms were spotless and the owner more than made up for the shortfalls.

28/10/11

 The road to the Ugandan border at Malaba was pretty bad.There was a lot of new costruction and I developed a method of riding on the new parts while they where being constructed.Surpisingly nobody said anything as I rode in and out of the machinery, they just waved back . The Chinese roads were full of wheel ruts and the going was pretty hairy at times. I discovered that a motorcycle won't win a game of chicken with an on coming tanker.
 Malaba was a bit like a huge lorry park with at least 2 kms of lorries waiting to cross the border.When I edged my way to the front a barrier was quickly removed and I was waved through like visiting royalty.Apart from fighting back the hordes of money changers and other assorted hawkers the whole crossing out of Kenya and into Uganda took less than an hour and I was on my way. A very pleasant night in Jinja at an extremely nice guest house at an extremely high price was spent in the company of the family.

ADDIS ABABA

11/8/11

Arrived safe and sound at Bole Airport and after an easy visa process booked into an hotel.

12/8/11

It was with trepidation I went to the airport cargo area . I had read that it was a lot of bureaucracy and running around involved to clear the bike through customs and one article I had read stated that it was more or less impossible to do alone. Impossible turned out to be aprox. 45 minutes to clear customs with temporary import docs. stamped. I must be getting very good at this as it turns out the bike isn't even arriving until tomorrow!!!!! This is what comes of believing the shipping agents. I was only a little bit embarrassed when, after  accusing all and sundry of losing the bike,the Ethiopian airways cargo manager pointed out that had I followed the correct procedure I would have known that the bike was still in Dubai.
  The Cargo manager turned out to be a top bloke and was very helpful.The wonders of the Internet mean that by plugging my airway bill number into the Ethiopian Airways web-site I can learn the exact location of my bike at any time.
   There is no sign of any funny business at this destination and the customs could not have been more affable.
   Staying at a very nice hotel and the local food, though spicy is very good.I haven't needed to start on my sandwiches yet!

 En route to the airport this morning I noticed lots of young lads, wearing lime green bibs, directing the traffic.I was very impressed with their enthusiasm and was surprised to learn that they were in fact street children employed by the government to give them an income. Now I am only a lowly traveller but to my untrained eye I saw proud and enthusiastic lads who obviously felt that they were doing something useful. It made a change to watching the news anyway.

 13/8/11
 For an African capital Addis has quite a lot of tourists so after visiting Haille Selaisse Cathedral (King, I'll check the spelling later) an evening in a Cultural Restaurant watching the local dances, very nice but I can't imagine Ethiopians coming to England and going for a meal and watching Morris dancing etc.Maybe we are missing something.

14/8/11
 Too much culture yesterday and as I write this I am 2.5 Kg lighter.The fourth immodium tablet seems to have done the trick though

15/8/11

 Checked on the internet and found that the bike had arrived on the morning of the thirteenth.Back to cargo village and filled out the rest of the formalities to release the bike.Fairly painless but Ethiopian Airlines,having failed to notify me of the bikes arrival decided that I should pay 3 days storage of dangerous goods.It is only twenty dollars but I hate to think what happens if you don't have access to the internet.
  I was furious at the time but really compared the the Aggro leaving Iran It was all fairly painless.

16/8/11
 Bike garaged safe and sound ready for October when the exciting stuff starts

 17/8/11
 Witnessed the motorcycling equivalent of the Uni Mog African tourist Bus today.There were a group of bikers at breakfast this morning all with full gear so I surmised they were part of a group.I had the temerity to approach one as you do as a fellow traveller.I was greeted with one word answers except was I travelling alone and then goodluck goodbye. Admittedly I only tried to talk to one guy but I certainly hope that these groups interact with the local people better than with me otherwise the whole travelling experience will get spoilt.
 At the airport now waiting to go home.In a way it's easier to plow on into the unknown and fix problems as they arise, I know there is 500 kms of badly rutted road between Ethiopia and Kenya but I obviously can't carry everything that might break so I will just try and plan on knowing where to find stuff ( Taxi, pick up etc).I'll use the time between now and October worrying myself into a frenzy just to have the adrenalin flowing nicely for the next leg to Kampala.

UAE

I'm still here in UAE but not for much longer.
    Having mastered the intricacies of temporary import over land and sea my next lesson is airfreight.Just when I was recovering from the shock of the cost of servicing I got a couple of quotes for airfreight that have put me back on my back.The price doesn't look too bad per kilo and is just about acceptable when multiplied by the wt. of the bike. This is when you learn about airfreight wt.,; the volume divided by 6!!
 Riding up to a border or arriving at a port you just get on with it but I have now entered the murky world of the freight forwarders who are evidently doing me a favour even replying to e-mails. Any road up I think I have arranged to send the bike to Addis Ababa next week.Are capital letters shouting I wonder?
 I have been studying hard and planning and I now know that the unit of currency is the burr and Addis Ababa is in Ethiopia and I can get a visa at the airport what else do I need.?
 One other difference is that the "maninarush" ( thanks Chris) is slowing down to see some of what there is to see.
 New site is underway and has been published  http://www.manonatrip.bleddry.com/ .If I can think of anything to put on the extra pages I should arrive at the situation where all my spare time isn't spare any longer.

8/8/11
 Things are never as bad as they seem and my faith has been restored. Took the bike to The Cargo Village at the airport and cold called on Rainbow Cargo. Within 30 mins the tank was drained and the bike was well on its way to being crated up.
 Rainbow were very helpful indeed and even sent a man with me to the RTA office to get a letter confirming the bike was mine.There was also a pleasant walk between the RTA office and Interpol. Just two or three miles in the midday sun, what is the opposite of bracing? I guess I'm not wanted because I got my letter.
 Really that is all I had to do,air seems so much easier than sea but I will reserve judgement until I clear customs in Ethiopia.

9/8/11
 Back to Rainbow to pick up the airway bill and my Carnet (duly stamped out of UAE ).More good news,the bike is leaving today so will be waiting for me when I arrive tomorrow.Now, how many sandwiches do I need to last me a week?
 Watching the world news I am just relieved I'm not heading to anywhere lawless and out of control such as the UK.I just wonder if this is the start of the UK Summer with the people taking to the streets to demand a regime change!!!

PART 3 CONTINUED, ISTANBUL TO SHARJAH



12/6/11
Two weeks of heavy shopping have come to an end, the family have gone home fully laden for the next twelve months and I am off again. First tram and a short scooter ride to the Istanbul bike club head quarters to pick up the bike and I am on my way to Samsun on the black sea coast.Thanks go out for the friendship and help from Zeki and Adil, they really are great guys ready to put themselves out to help.
Hotel on the outskirts of Samsun 40 Euros and very good.



   13/6/11

                                       Samsun to Erzurum

Followed the Black Sea coast to Espiye and lunch stop with a member of the Istanbul Club, Yusuf  and his friend/translator.A bit further on and turned to go over the mountains to Erzurum. Two weeks of sun in Istanbul had me worrying that I might be too hot.The fears were unfounded as apart from the lashing rain it was freezing cold at the snow line. One thing about Turkey is that in general the roads are really good and the signage is fabulous making it very easy to navigate.

 I entered Erzurum looking for a hotel.Now, playing dodgems with the traffic and looking for a hotel is not easy and I had just about given up when I asked a taxi driver who was attempting to hit my rear wheel if there were any hotels.He directed me to a nearby street and lo and behold there were about six hotels all in a row. 3 star 40 Euros.



LOOKING BACK TO MT ARARAT

I have been pleasantly surprised by Turkey, what I saw was a vibrant, friendly society well worth another visit before the supermarkets and  fast food outlets suck all the character out.



                                                14/6/11

                                       Erzurum to Maku

 Two hundred miles to the border and arrived about 13:00hrs. Why are land border areas always seedy and peopled by the worst kind of humanity, conmen and touts?.Luckily for-warned is for-armed so all help was refused and the leaving of Turkey took about ten minutes and that only because there is no '0' in Turkish numerology. A short hiccup when the electric motor for the Iron gate into Iran cratered and volunteers ( motorists) manhandled it open.

 Onward into the unknown.

 The formalities are fairly simple and nothing was asked for from a lowly tourist.There was a delay however when the officer filling out the vehicle temporary import docs had to call for the local security company to empty the money from his drawer.It is quite comical ( if the morality is ignored.) when viewing as a spectator because the money was literally passed " under the table "

 With a "welcome to Iran" I was on my way or so I thought, and this is the clever bit. about 250 metres down the road there is a final gate and there I was stopped by the police who collect the clearance papers and told that another stamp should have been given and I had to go back to the Red building to get it.Of course there were people there to help(scam) I was advised. Long story short it took another hour and a half to get insurance and the final stamp.I was lucky because I knew the price of the insurance (30 dollars) because the office inside the customs area asks for 100 Euros. Nobody speaks English but there is another office 100 yards away selling at the correct price.

 One bit of research I hadn't done was the time zone which changed by an hour and a half so the night was spent in a pleasant tourist hotel in Maku. 36 USD.

                                            14/6/11

                                     Maku to Zanjan

 The first thing that strikes me is the quality of the roads and the fact that generally there is little litter. I don't know what I was expecting but the scenery is very very good and every time I stop people approach and try to communicate.I stopped for fuel and enjoyed a refreshment break ( as opposed to a comfort break) with a Turkish biker from Istanbul en route to Kabul.

 Now I know there are not many tourists here but when people keep coming and taking photos you have to wonder!!

 We set off in tandem but were separated going through Tabriz.I am now sure Iranians are the worst drivers in the world. Iranians are only allowed bikes up to 250 ccs so anybody riding a bigger bike is a tourist. with my heart in my mouth and promising to be good if I got through the ordeal of the lunch time rush, I wondered what the incessant beeping from behind was.Anyway I had a chat with a local biker on his way to Azerbaijan on a roundabout in the centre of Tabriz.I was a little concerned with the traffic but it seemed quite a normal occurrence to him.

 After a very enjoyable ride I rode in to Zanjan and armed with the address of an hotel I hired a taxi to lead me there.Experience brings wisdom. Common sense would be probably more useful.



A ZANJAN ROUNDABOUT



15/6/11

Zanjan to Esfahan

The weather has been getting hotter and my stomach has just about been behaving itself despite the changes in food and water. Looped around Tehran to avoid the traffic and came the scenic route.A really nice road, this is a beautiful country. Stopped twice for document checks, seems an out of date international licence suffices for this.The officers are quite friendly and the second ones wanted a photo and a blip of the accelerator.

 I have discovered that blogs are censored here, I am updating in a hotel lobby. I arrived completely exhausted and dehydrated so will stay two nights.Just had a very very lucky escape.The rooms are like small bungalows around a big gardens, I decided to wash the trousers and shirt I was standing up in and was debating whether to sneak out to hang the washing out without rooting in my bag for more clothes,I decided against it. After hanging the washing I went to the reception in bare feet to get a key to get back into my room. 





TOURIST COMPLEX ROOM ESFAHAN




ESFAHAN

                                                                         17/6/11

Esfahan to Sirjan

I must be wising up,after arriving in Esfahan completely exhausted I decided it would be better avoiding the worst of the heat and set off at five in the morning.I was a bit worried as it was already decidedly hot and the man from the shipping agency told me it would start getting hot after Sirjan.Anyway me and the trucks were on the road nice and early and me and the trucks were going to the same place,the main port in Iran, Bandar Abbas.Actually the going was ok because the roads were dual carriageway all the way almost.The pleasant scenery was left behind and the first 80 miles were almost dead straight and then there was a turn, just enough so that the sun was directly in my eyes. The land was mostly desert now and the people looked and dressed differently,more like people from the Stans.




NEW FRIENDS ON THE ROAD



  I had a general feeling that areas were more dishevelled and less cared for,all this as I figured out the solution for the uprisings in the Middle East.

 Learning as I go along I filled up just before Sirjan and enquired if there was a hotel, follow me said one of the by-standers who were fiddling with my GPS and he led me into town to an hotel.

 It was only One o'clock so I had a siesta and then had a walk around the local market.The smells of these places make them very enticing, and the beauty is that there are no tourists so what you get is a snapshot of local life,I have to wonder,when seeing the cobbler at work and another guy repairing all manner of electric items,all with bits that were lying around , if we are better off living life on a treadmill just to be able to buy more stuff which then falls apart and we throw it away.You never know,that old electric fan that was thrown out might be in pride of place in a house in Sirjan Iran.

 

 

 

 

 

 



COOKING ON GAS.

 Another thing that crossed my mind as I listened to the soothing lyrics of Eminem on my IPod was that poetry still sells,you just have to market it to the right audience.

 I asked a couple of people if they minded me photographing them, having to show one what a photo was.One vendor from a spice stall insisted that he take a picture of me inside his stall.(Why does a small container of spice cost so much in western countries when they are selling it by the bucket loads in these countries and the farmers are so poor?)He took me around and showed me the old parts of the market and offered to run me around to show me the rest of the town.Another vendor took me into his small shop and was showing me birds that he sold.Some looked like budgies and some were like miniature ones that he said came from Pakistan.

 In the big cities the women and girls wore scarves and it didn't seem too "heavy".In this area a lot of the womenfolk are completely covered and as I said before the general atmosphere was not the same.Later,during dinner, I was chatting with someone ( I use chatting in the loosest form of the word) and he told me that Sirjan was a centre for a particular trade that originates in Afganistan.He also asked me if it was true about Ryan Giggs and informed me that he was no longer his hero.

 19/6/11

Sirjan to Bandar Abbas

Using my new ploy and expecting it to get warm, I set off at 5AM and joined the procession of diesel guzzling,smoke belching trucks (I thought that up on the road).By 8am it had to be into the thirties and was above forty with a fair percentage of humidity by the time I arrived,dripping in sweat, at the shipping office at 9am.Ticket bought and in the hotel by 10:30.
  It never ceases to amaze me how there is an affinity between people of similar backgrounds.Most of the men in the shipping office were previously sea going so a certain amount of shooting the proverbial went on over a chai and it turned out the freight guy knew my home town well and was telling me about some of the bars.( not that he partook you understand. )

 One thing I have been disappointed with is the food,suffice it to say that I won't be seeking out any Iranian restaurants. I am now,however, an expert on chicken Kebab and white rice.



WHEN IS COKE NOT AN AMERICAN COMPANY?
(ANSWER: WHEN IT'S MADE IN IRAN)

 I am sorry that due to time constraints and commitments,I have just raced through and not taken the time to see more,I will just have to come through slower when en route to the Karakorum highway.

 I have done 2700 miles in six days of riding and there have been some mornings that it was almost impossible to get going but it has been ace and my bum aches.

 I am wondering what sort of shenanigans there are to get the paperwork sorted out tomorrow,I have been told that it will just be a few dollars here and there.I just hope the sea is not rough.

 

I'm still on the same set of tyres that came with the bike and even after 8000+ miles there is still some life in them.They will have to be changed for the next leg however.

                                                                          20/6/11

Leaving Iran

Bright and early to the port and five hours going from office to office copying documents over and over again. slightly frustrating not really knowing what was going on.One Iranian guy helped me out,he was coming the other way and told me that for 30 dollars his stuff was sorted out fairly easily.Unfortunately the party in question didn't speak any English so couldn't ask me.

  Got about half way through the process and was paired up with another Iranian and we did the last six offices together (with him riding pillion.)

  By about 1:30pm it was all done and I put the bike on the boat and with instructions to be back at 7pm a lie down called.

 Unfortunately photographs were not allowed at the port but when I got back in the evening there was already a queue of people( migrant workers and traders mostly )with what seemed like tons of foodstuffs to be carried back to Sharjah( one woman had 300 kg ).I got chatting to an airgun dealer from Shiraz and he saved me a place on the boat explaining that it was the best place for sleeping, he did add that the extra room available was because there was a bit of a smell that came from the toilets.That turned out to be the biggest understatement of all times and I nearly keeled over when I couldn't hold out any longer. I am faced with a choice of losing a load of wt. or seriously strengthening my legs as it's hard work raising up from the squatting position with nothing to hold on to!!!especially when clinging to conciousness.

 It was noticeable that situations that in other countries would involve a lot pushing and shoving were orderly and disciplined in Iran with no pushing in.




APPROACHING THE DOCK IN SHARJAH

   The arrival in Sharjah involved being shepherded to immigration and then going through the import procedures for the bike,a relatively straight forward procedure that I could at least follow.There is evidently special treatment for arrivals from Iran seemingly because of drugs.Nobody could move anywhere untill the sniffer dog had done what the name suggests.The immigration and customs officers seemed to class me differently to the other passengers( inviting me to sit with them and giving me a bottle of water )and, in fact, I had completed all the import procedures before the last of the foot passengers were through customs.

 It's very satisfying (although maddening at the time) learning new skills and all the import/export involved in this form of  travelling can only get easier.
 There was no insurance available at the dock and none was asked for.All the way back to my accomodation my mind ran riot with thoughts of an altercation with a Ferrari or Maserati on the Sheik Zayed road and when I tried to get a Salik card at a petrol station and a police car pulled in behind me I was prepared for at least solitary confinement.
 Two hours on the telephone and I found temporary insurance,something that has eluded most who have come before me.

 The bike is booked for a service and new tyres ready for the next leg,Djibouti to Uganda.

     23/6/11

Collected the bike back from service. Extra costs incurred for new rear disc and a set of knobblies.

  The bike looks the real deal now for the dirt roads to come, shame about the rider.