26: Jinja to Eldoret (Uganda/Kenya)

Uganda Pictures Here

Kenya Pictures Here

Week 26 Update:

Jinja, Sipi Falls, Kitale, Eldoret (Uganda/Kenya)

Day 176:

OUCH AGAIN! This time not from muscles soreness, but from head soreness. We somehow managed to get ourselves stuck in the bar the night before and Doug, our rafting guide kept on buying us shots of Jack Daniels. It was after 10:00 by the time we had recovered enough to move on. We visited the local clinic to buy some Bilharzia medication. We knew we had been exposed to it first in Tanganyika and a few times after that and the common consensus was to buy the medication in Uganda for very little money and take it six months after your suspected first exposure. We had heard a few stories of people who took months to get their hands on the right medication in the UK as the doctors there insisted on diagnosing them over and over again. The first plan sounded easier, so $10 got us two courses.

We popped into Jinja’s market for some supplies and were once again blown away buy the quality and price of the produce in Uganda. A week’s worth of fruit and veggies cost us less than $5 and friendly locals waved us on our way north.

Entering the city of Mbala the road got worse and worse until we, like the locals, drove next to the tar and in the mud as it was faster and easier than trying to dodge the pot holes. This didn’t last too long though and we were on good tar again soon and heading uphill towards Sipi Falls. Although the road surface was fantastic, the hill was so steep that we were stuck in second gear at 30km/h for almost 40 minutes. The view behind us became more interesting and more spectacular with every one of those passing minutes though.

According to our readings, a place called The Crows Nest was the accommodation of choice in the area, so we pulled into their car park first. Like so many other places we had found, there was no way of getting the vehicle into the actual camp site and the offer of camping in yet another car park just did not appeal to us. We tried a few places in the area and eventually settled on a community based, family run place called Moses Camp. We met Moses’ son, Juma and he guided us through the bandas, over the lawn and within meters of a 45 meter drop where we could park and camp. They had the best view of the falls by far and the measly $3 each to camp seemed far too little!

After setting camp we invited Juma for a chat and enquired about hiking and activities in the area. As per usual it was advisable to take a guide and to be honest; I couldn’t see a way of finding the places without one. Juma offered to take us to the highest view point for sunset that day, a 6 hour hike to three major waterfalls the next day and teach us how to roast our own coffee, including a 2kg bag of beans for around $30. That sounded more than fair, so we signed up for all of it. I had also heard about Trout Fishing in the area and asked about that. Juma simply said that the fish was small and the fee was high, but offered to take us past the lodge that offered it as well.

At 18:30 we started our hike to the viewpoint. Juma’s 20 year old; 6 foot 6 lankiness had far less problem with the altitude and steepness of the climb than we did. We actually passed through the grounds of the Crows Nest to get to the viewpoint and if our breaths were not taken away by the walk, the view certainly did the trick. We literally had a 360 deg unobstructed view of our surroundings. Far in the valley below was the 100m high Sipi Falls. We could see Maggie with the Roof Top Tent on, looking like a pixel on a huge canvas and the valley floor and Lake Kyogo some 3 000ft below us. It was striking to see the extent of the agriculture on the hills around us mixed in with natural vegetation and the three big waterfalls we were intending on visiting the next day.

We stumbled back down the hill and to the camp site after sunset. Juma seemed to be very popular in the village we walked through as most people greeted him by hand and smiling. We felt instantly welcomed into the community and loved every second of it. Back at camp we made some dinner, drank some wine and managed to get everything done and packed away mere minutes before the rain hit us. The storm did not last long and we spent a fantastically rejuvenating night in our mountain retreat.

Day 177:

Ugandan’s unlike Malawians did not seem to like waking up early. We had agreed to start our hike at 9am and after coffee and breakfast Juma came to collect us. We were joined by two other Mzungus. Kate and Adam from Bristol were based in Jinja dong some volunteering. They were freshly out of school and decided to work five days a week and travel every weekend. This was their second weekend in Uganda.

We left the camp site with a warning about asking permission before photographing people in the village and stopped at a local shop where Juma bought us each a bottle of water. This was included in our price. We started the steep climb through villages and farms, resting when we needed and learning interesting things about the area. Apparently this was where all Uganda’s long distance runners came from. The subsistence farms included big fields of Arabica Coffee and Juma explained the process of growing, harvesting, drying and roasting to us. The footpaths he chose were small and muddy and used by all the locals to ferry their produce and goods between places. We had to make space for donkeys and cattle a few times and eventually came to a clearing where the grass was kept and the benches built. We had arrived at the bottom of the top waterfall. This was an 85m high drop with masses of volume tumbling down it. If ever the power companies found out about that the hydro plant would be built in days!

We pulled on the rain gear to walk through the spray and stood marvelling at Mother Nature so close to the base of the falls that you could feel the earth move from the force of the water. The obligatory pictures had to taken before we left and in between sessions of spray, I pointed the camera and clicked the button a few times. As we started walking down from the base, we were passed by about 20 friendly Ugandans who had come to see their waterfall. It was really good to see local people making the effort to do something like that. The only other place I could remember that happening was one of the falls in Zambia where a company had a corporate day.

From that first viewpoint we followed the river down. Juma took us through some more farms and villages and to a place where we could swim in the calm pools. This would have been a great idea if the day wasn’t cold and the water did not feel like melted ice… Our second waterfall for the day reminded a little more of a rapid than a waterfall. We stood at the top and stared at the impressive flow of water for a while, but I estimated it to be no more than 15 meters high, making at a rapid in my book. Little did I know that that wasn’t the actual waterfall. We were led through some thick forest and dense bush and down a slippery path where we had to get the rain gear back on. The end of the path was a cave, behind a 65m waterfall. The noise was deafening from the dry cave behind the water and jokes about needing soap and shampoo went unnoticed by all. Juma signalled us to follow him and it was only at the next viewpoint that we saw how big this waterfall actually was. It was split in two parts, equally impressive and the fine misty spray filled the whole valley around us.

The path took us down a steep hill and over a very dodgy wooden bridge hammered into the hill side and on to the exclusive and expensive Sipi River Lodge. We were told that we could sit on their furniture, use their toilets and have our own snacks there and they did not mind. It felt a little weird, but the girls appreciated the potty break. They did advertise fly fishing permits, so I had to ask.

The manager, a non fisherman, told me that the trout was above the highest waterfall and you had to hike form the lodge to get there. The fee was $50 a day and the small fish were hard to catch as the water level was very high. You could also hire gear from them for $35 extra. He also said that the trout was imported from Kenya… I tried my very best not to laugh at his ridiculous fee and managed a friendly smile and a “thanks, but no thanks”

Leaving the lush lodge we followed the tar road back towards Moses Camp and after a quick stop at a local curio shop I though the day was over. It was good timing as it was coming up for lunch time and it did look like the rain was about to hit us again. As I turned into the camp site Juma called me back to the road and explained that we still had to go the3 bottom of the third waterfall. “OK” I said and after a quick conference we decided to do that before stopping for lunch.

From the tar road we walked down some crude concrete steps and then an equally treacherous wooden ladder to the steep muddy side of the hill. We followed Juma and a footpath through farms and houses and when the rain caught up with us he stopped at a hut advertising local guides. It provided little shelter as the roof was leaking terribly, but much entertainment in the form of 5 one week old puppies. The poor bitch did not really know how to deal with all the water, so we helped her find a dry spot inside and moved her litter to it. She seemed almost relieved. When the rain subsided we continued our walk. We got to a massive land slide where all the earth was washed down the mountain. It was rock underfoot and the devastation down hill from us was total! It wasn’t really surprising as the locals had cultivated every inch of that hill side and left neither trees nor undergrowth at all.

Close to the bottom of the falls it started raining once again and we passed another group of tourists hiding under Banana leaves. We were however all well equipped and headed to the viewpoint. This was no less impressive than anything else we had seen the day, but noticeably bigger. The bottom waterfall is 100m high and the volume of water tumbling over the edge was incredible! We were getting hit by the spray at least 200m down stream for the actual impact point. With obligatory photo taking dealt with we started heading back up the hill and stopped in the shelter to wait for the bulk of the rain to move on. The bitch and her puppies were where we left them and much dryer and happier than our little soaked group of adventurers.

With the rain subsiding again we left once more, trying to make the top of the hill in a short time. I was all too aware of the volume of water in the swollen streams tumbling through the muddy slopes above us and really did not like being there. Poor Kate suffered from massive blisters on her feet and by the time we made it to the top of the hill she had taken her shoes off and cried a bucket full of tears. I felt suitably sorry for the poor girl, but at that time there wasn’t a lot any of us could do to make life better for her.

Back at the camp site Catt and I stuffed ourselves on avocado and cheese and when the other two arrived after their lunch in the village, we offered them hot chocolate to soothe the pains. This was obviously welcomed greatly! With our well stocked first aid kit we also managed to get Kate’s blisters looked after and with the new bond of the day’s adventure that was formed between us we spent the rest of the evening chatting away like old friends. It seemed that they were not normally the adventurous type, but were quite sporty back in the UK. The day’s “off piste” hiking was a bit of an eye opener for them, but when all was said and done, we all agreed that is was very much a worth while experience. Catt and I loved every second of it and decided to recommend it to every traveller we came across from then on.

The evening grew to a close under a perfectly clear full moon sky and the far away sounds of falling water soothed us both to sleep in no time.

Day 178:

The one thing Uganda seemed to have trouble producing was electricity for its own people. Apparently the country exports enough of the stuff, but we had been plagued by power cuts everywhere we had been. Moses camp was no different and on this specific morning that meant that we could not do our coffee making thing. The machine that took the skin off the beans needed power and there was none.

As compensation Juma gave us a kilogram of his own stash and a bag full of beans. With a detailed explanation of the process and us taking many notes, he sent us on our way just before 10:00. Our mission was to drive around the north of Mt. Elgon and enter Kenya at the Suam border. Juma’s reaction to our plan was an exclamation that he may see us back there for another night. Even the GPS described the route as “To be confirmed” but judging form the perfect tar road ahead of us, we felt confident.

At some point the tar stopped… obviously… and we were driving nowhere near the road on the GPS…. Obviously. We were however on the right route, according to the locals and we were definitely heading in the right direction. The day seemed clear and although the road was still a little wet from the previous day’s rain, it felt solid and stable…. Until it became a track rather than a road with deep ruts full of water and slippery clay soil where I suggested that we turn the hub locks on and engage 4 x 4. It was about this time when we came upon a very stuck small truck and its occupants. With the mighty Maggie, the Bridgestone Mud Tyres and the low range gear box we managed to get past them. We also managed to turn around and we also managed to unceremoniously winch them out of the muddy hole they had been trapped in for three hours. With suitable “imprestness” they told us that the road would get worse the further we went, but with our beast of a car, we should make it to Kenya.

They were not lying! The road did get worse and a lot worse and we spent much time in low range negotiating steep and muddy inclines. The locals we passed looked at us in awe as we soldiered on but we decided to keep going until we got scared… or find a place to actually turn around. A few kilometres later I saw a vehicle approaching from the front. With great excitement I flagged him down to ask about the road and with great disappointment had to hear that a massive land slide had taken out the road completely around the next corner. The driver said that he also tried to get to the same border, but there was simply no possible way to get there. As he had driven the road we had just conquered, I kind of thought that we would not be able to make it either. We had to turn around.

This time we followed the local and his lines through the obstacles. It was no easier or faster than our outbound journey, but at least I could giggle at the way his vehicle was slipping and sliding from side to side and brace myself fro the same movements. When we got to the place where the truck was stuck he took the wrong line and bogged himself down so much that we could not open the door. I shouted at him to stay put, passed him, turned around and saw the huge smile on his face when I hooked the winch cable onto his recovery point at the front of his vehicle. Once again we pulled him out without any issue and with thanks and greetings sent him on his way. I agreed to wait for another truck to pass through the same place before leaving. He managed… just… and before we had to set up “Maggie’s rescue services” and pitch camp for the day, we headed out as well.

We passed Sipi and Moses camp before stopping for lunch and decided to get as close to our alternate border as we could. A quick read of the guide books revealed the Rock Classic Hotel just outside of the town of Tororo to be a suitable stop over point. Reaching the hotel we asked about camping. For a change this was not done in the car park as such, but in a big field at the back of the hotel. Closer inspection showed that it was also next to the staff accommodation which meant access to water. The $18 for the night seemed a little steep, but we also had access to the hotel’s hot showers which was really nice!

It had been a long day, so after dinner we went straight to bed to the lullabying sounds of the local club’s music. It was a Sunday night, so I wasn’t too concerned… But, as usual, the music did not stop… ever… and got louder… and louder… and although the club must have been at least a kilometre away, the speakers were so good that we hardly managed any sleep at all… again…

Day 179:

It’s never ideal to have to cross borders after minimal sleep as you usually have to have your wits about you to manage the normal labyrinth of offices and paper work Africa through in your way. We had also heard and read some horror stories about the Malaba Border Post between Uganda and Kenya. This reportedly was the most popular with trucks and poor unsuspecting travellers usually got stuck in the middle of the chaos. The preferred border post for non trucks was said to be 60km south at Busia. We studied our maps a little and decided to brave Malaba as the other route would have been a 200km detour. And besides… we had as much time as Africa did!

We arrived at the Uganda side without attracting much interest from the locals and followed the car signs, directing us away from the line of trucks. Formalities took about 10 minutes which included a chat with the immigration official about the Monaco Grand Prix which was playing on his TV and changing some currency without the changer trying to rip us off. Kenya was much more difficult! It took 15 minutes, which included a chat to the police about Swahili and the state of the roads in Kenya. Even the obligatory police road block after the border were uninterested in us and our paperwork and just waved us through. We could however see that the same border in the opposite direction would be a nightmare as the line of trucks on the Kenya side was formidable and there was no real way to pass them.

The roads from the border were interesting. They usually are as that is usually where the converging of trucks and other traffic happens. This was something to behold though! The obvious heavy trucks had “dented” the tar so much that you needed a 4 x 4 to clear the middle section. Overtaking was not really possible as you had to cross something the height of a kerb twice to get to the other side of the road. At least it wasn’t full of pot holes… Or so we thought. The Police had large pieces of wood with 12 inch spikes coming out of them laid in the road to force people to stop, but none of them were remotely interested in the Land Cruiser from down south. We left the main road and turned north towards Kitale and the Mt Elgon National Park and had to laugh at the state of that road. It wasn’t as much that there were potholes as that there was no tar and everyone preferred to drive next to the non existent surface for large sections of it. This was fairly similar to driving bush tracks and took as long. Every once in a while we looked at each other smiling, not being able to actually believe that a road could be that bad.

We arrived at the town of Kitale before mid day despite the roads and went in search of the tourism information office to get some info on the mountain. This was located next to a museum and after enquiring at the entrance to the museum, we were told that the office was closed. Perhaps out of lack of interest, or perhaps for lunch, but no explanation was forthcoming. Next stop was mobile internet (Yip, another country… another sim card…) and Orange was the chosen network offering the best rates. By this time we knew exactly which questions to ask and walked out of the shop with a fully functioning internet connection about half an hour later. This was after teaching the technician a thing or two about APN’s. It was also the cheapest internet we had found in Africa, paying about $14 for a sim card and 1 GIG of data. We were so positive that we braved our first supermarket in Kenya straight after. Wow! It was like walking into the land of plenty! The small local supermarket had a bigger variety of things on offer than we could remember seeing since leaving South Africa and the prices were not bad either. We only needed some milk and spoilt ourselves with a soft drink before heading out of town in search of accommodation, but for the third time that day I was pleasantly surprised by our eighth country of the trip.

We had read about a place called “Delta Crescent” which was not on any of our maps or GPS maps, but it seemed pretty easy to find and apparently conveniently located 5km from the park gate. Finding it was indeed that easy and as we drove in we were greeted by the owner. He introduced himself as “Captain Davies” (I shit you not) and invited us into the lounge for a chat. I was a little scared, but accepted. We sat on a sofa being offered drinks and food from the restaurant which we graciously declined and received a full explanation of his place and facilities. He insisted on sharing his family history and current status in the land and told us about his Rhino and Giraffe he had in his wildlife sanctuary. We were shown the dining room and kitchen while he was bragging about his water wells and solar pumps. When I asked if we could fill out water tank he said that the pumps were not connected yet though. I kind of guessed this by the mineral water he had displayed all over the building.

On the way to the camp site he explained that they were farming organically and that he was the master teacher of the poor underdeveloped Africans. To be fair, the vegetable gardens looked amazing! The camp site we were shown could only be described as lush! The thick carpet of green grass covered every inch of the site and we were even allowed to drive on it and park anywhere we liked. There was a wood burning boiler for a hot shower and after insisting on showing us the pit toilets (I Know) we announced that we wanted to drive to the park gate to ask about their procedure. I was so happy that he allowed us to leave as I wasn’t convinced that he ever would. So we left, knowing an unhealthy amount of information about a complete stranger who insisted of over sharing.

The park gate was in fact 8km away and not the advertised 5km, but who’s counting? There we met the lovely Jacqueline who told us the lay of the land: The fee was $25 per person, as expected. The fee for the car was Ksh 300 (Kenyan Shillings) which was about $4 as expected and 2 guides at $4 each were compulsory, as expected. Our plan was to drive up the mountain as far as the road would take us and then hike to the summit. Jacqueline told us that that would be entirely possible, she would organise the guides and we were to be back at 8am the following day. Then the curveball came: We needed to drive the guides up the mountain. I explained that we had no space and after a lengthy discussion and me actually showing her that it would not be possible to fit any more people into our car, even in Africa, she smilingly announced that the guides were not really that compulsory and we just needed to sign an indemnity.

As their camping cost seemed to be four times more than Capt. Davies’s, ($15 pp instead of the quoted $3.75 from the captain) we decided to return to the crazy place for the night. Wonder above wonder we were never engaged by the good captain again and allowed in the camp site on the thick carpet of grass in peace and without enduring the stories of his children at Harvard and Cambridge. In the late afternoon the rain came down… Hardly surprising, but fortunately this lush campsite came complete with roof over our heads and comfortable table and chairs to sit on.

The camp manager came by to collect payment for the night. The invoice listed camping as per agreed price but also asked for an entrance per person and a vehicle fee totalling twice as much as we were expecting to pay. I counted to ten… It did not help, so I tried to count to ten in Italian, which took longer… which helped a little. Chris Harvey, the author of “Don’t take this road to El Karama” counted in Swahili at some point, which helped him, so I tried… It helped. It was still cheap, but why the sneaky old fart couldn’t just tell us how much the night would cost us at the start of our negotiations is beyond me. We paid up and out of principle decided NOT to stay another night regardless of our desperation.

We were at 6000ft above sea level and after the afternoon rain, with the setting sun and chilly wind neither one of us was interested in the showers, regardless of how hot they were. Instead, we snuggled under the provided roof and parked Maggie close enough so we could stay there for the remainder of our waking hours. A suitably sized juicy pork roast served as dinner and too much wine was had by all to help keep the chill away.

Day 180:

The fun thing about the night after you did not sleep very much is that sleep comes easily, appreciated and usually lasts a long time! This night was quiet, dark and very peaceful and we loved it despite the healthy paranoia about the strange Captain in the house on the hill. It was warm when we stuck our heads out of the tent just after 7:00.

We dealt with morning issues swiftly, packed up camp and drove the 8km (Not 5km) without laying another eye on strange people from the Crescent. At the gate Jacqueline made us write our names on a blank piece of paper and sign next to them. I guessed that was the indemnity. We paid our dues and decided to buy a map for the cost of one guide. The basic map showed little more than what we already knew and in fact, the map in the Lonely Planet had more detail. None the less, she was happy to make the sale and insisted on writing out the lengthy invoice on paper that looked more expensive than the map itself.

From the gate, according to all the maps; which agreed for a change, we had to drive 32km up the hill to a car park. From there we had to hike up about 5.6km and climb another 1 000m to the Koitobos Peak at some 4 230m, making it the second highest point in Kenya. It sounded pretty simple, so we set off just before 8am.

We found the road we needed to take without any problems and at some point had to engage 4 x 4 to get through some muddy patches. The road turned into a track which turned into a muddy puddle and a wallow. I’m not sure why that surprised me as the mud slides on the other side of the mountain had taken the road away, but Jacqueline was confident that we would be able to drive their road. We did soldier on for a while until we came to a place where we were slipping backwards and sideways despite the fact that the car was in second gear forward and the wheels were turning in the opposite way of actual travel. That was definitely the first time I had experienced anything like that! We came to a stand still on a grassy patch and I had another crack at the knoll, this time suing some momentum to reach the top. At the top we were faced with more mud than I had seen before, a steep incline and some big tree roots to make it interesting. I tried four times, using a different line each time, with the same result… Slipping sideways and coming to a complete stop. The Mud Tyres were defeated and we had to turn around…

The idea was sound, only we couldn’t actually turn the car around. I had to reverse for almost two hundred meters, sliding all over the place before I could “side slide” back to the grassy patch where I managed a 47 point turn to enable us to drive forwards down the mountain. Because the brakes had zero effect on the speed of the car and the front wheels no apparent influence on the direction of travel, I simply slid the gearbox into Low Range, second gear and slid into the deepest ruts to steer us down the hill. Even Catt was having fun!

The park had a surprising number of things on offer, so we decided to explore a little more before heading back to the gate. While choosing another, bigger road the GPS suddenly beeped and showed us another way to the Summit. That was an exciting development, so we obeyed the commands. That route was 15km longer than our chosen one, but the road seemed well worn. It was still muddy and rutty, but at least there were bridges over the streams and fresh tyre tracks. After a while we found a sign to the peak and then ascended out of the rain forest and into a bamboo forest. There the road was actually grass and not mud… for a while.

We slipped, we slided, we skidded and we faked a sense of control, but still decided to carry on moving up until the road stopped us. The theory was that if we could drive up it, driving down would be easier. This was a fantastic theory until we reached a very high point in the mountains and started going down into a valley again. The downhill was obviously easy, the next uphill was obviously the most challenging of the whole route, but we persevered and kept going until we finally made it to the parking space at over 3600 meters above sea level. I was pretty sure that Maggie had never been that high before!

It had taken us four and half hours to reach the place and after a quick bite we started walking towards the summit. The altitude surprised us both and it took no more than five steps for us to be out of breath. We had to adopt the ingenious way of Pole-Pole we had learnt on Kilimanjaro and made good time, covering more than half our aimed distance in less than an hour and a half. There was no path to speak of. The GPS pointed us in the right direction and we found a path of sorts every once in a while which turned into a babbling brook shortly after. And then the rain came down… A massive storm cloud covered the peak and threatened all sorts of undesirable mountain weather. We went towards it for another fifteen minutes before having a family conference and deciding that the reasonable thing to do was to go back to Maggie as fast as our legs could carry us and get the hell off that mountain as quickly as we could. We had been walking in ankle deep mud for the previous half an hour and reaching Kenya’s second highest peak suddenly became a lot less important than surviving the trip down the mountain…

Back at Maggie we wasted no time at all. One obligatory photo later we jumped in the car, turned on the engine and started heading down hill. The going was a lot easier that the way up and even the up hills we faced were less challenging that I had anticipated. It has to be said that I was constantly blown away by the sheer capability of the vehicle we were in. And then the rain came down harder…

It was just not possible to drive faster than the storm was moving and we got caught up in it. At some point I had the wipers going at full speed and had about ten meters visibility only. This did not matter much as I was only going at 10km/h anyway as the brakes had no bearing on our speed and once again the front wheels did not determine our direction of travel. Just as we though that the worst was over it started hailing. The stones were only about marble sized, but there were plenty of them and the already soggy and slippery road became even more treacherous. I adapted a technique of snow boarding where I would pick the line I though to best and slide onto the suitable rut sideways until the path of least resistance became the direction I wanted to travel in. I thought it mostly fun… Catt did not share my sentiments.

The last obstacle I could remember was a series of four hair pin bends at steep angles. I knew I would not be able to stop the car in mid turn and I remembered one of them to have a big hole half way through the turn which was severe enough to overturn the car. Every time I approached a turn like that I slowed us to a crawling pace in first gear and steered wide and confidently and managed side slide us into the desirable rut and around corner and every time I successfully negotiated us around I though that the worst was over. And then the worst one arrived. By that time the rain had moved on and we were driving in a raging river. I could not see the surface we were driving on, but I could see the rapid it had formed through the hole in question and there was simply no way around it. I slid into it at a snails pace, leaning my body in the opposite direction and I was convinced that it was only the weight of my head that managed to keep us the right ways up. After that it was plain sailing and the road became well worn and easy to negotiate.

The map showed a major road we had not previously driven and we chose that to take us back to the gate in the shortest time. It seemed very easy and straight forward until we came to a complete stop with two of our wheels in the air and the front diff dug into the mud. I found it amusing that we managed to get stuck on a road that was so incredibly easier to drive than what we had been through and selected the winch as recovery took. We were in a forest full of trees after all.

It was surprisingly hard to find a big and stable tree to winch off though and it was only after I managed to almost uproot two trees and move two meters that I could reach a suitable candidate. As we came free and the wheels regained traction and I drove on Maggie’s own power I praised the day that I decided to buy that winch! The experience did cost us another loss of Tupperware though as the same plastic wheel arch cover and mud flap we had broken in Zambia got damaged again and I had to remove it. The whole thing ended up costing us no less than 10 minutes and we made the gate with two hours to spare!

Jacqueline came to greet us and asked about our day. She seemed genuinely amazed and surprised and impressed that we only got stuck once and that we managed to make it all the way to the top. We told her about the current road conditions and recommended that she told poor unsuspecting tourists how bad they actually were. We also asked her how long it would take us to reach the town of Eldoret as we really did not want to spend another night at the Captain’s. Her version of the truth corresponded with the GPS’s eta and had us arriving at our destination half an hour before sunset, so we hit the road instantly!

Needless to say that neither Jacqueline nor T4A nor Garmap had any idea as to how bad that road really was! We needed to average 60km/h to arrive in time. We ended up breaking rule no 1 (NEVER DRIVVE IN THE DARK IN AFRICA) for the third time in our trip and tried desperately to dodge pot holes and vehicles and bicycles and chickens and goats and cattle and children and fallen over trees. The busses who are not allowed to drive after dark simply did not turn their lights on and we even passed some trucks that were driving blind. At some point I simply followed a minibus taxi, thinking that he would know the way, but I could not keep up. We were passed by a few busses and left in a cloud of dust and followed other vehicles down steep embankments and through huge holes next the pot holes and back onto the tar, which was very limited! We passed through villages and road blocks and weigh bridges some idiot decided to build in the middle of the road and eventually, and only by the grace of God arrived at the Naiberi River camp, our chosen accommodation for the night. Although it was only the last 45 minutes we drove in the dark, it felt like hours!

Neither one of us had any cooking aspirations so before even pitching the tent we headed down a tunnel to the impressive and intriguing restaurant and bar. We were the only guests in a place that had space for large crowds and were seriously outnumbered by the staff. The menu was extensive, impressive and very reasonable so we ordered a selection of Chinese dishes to share and a couple of Tuskers Lagers which arrived fairly quickly. I’m not sure if it was because of the hunger or tiredness or relief that we had survived the roads, but the food was absolutely stunning and the beer ice cold!

As we were finishing up with dinner a man came to introduce himself as Raj, the owner. He was accompanied by no less than seven dogs of which most weighed about the same as an average teenager. Raj insisted on us joining him for a drink at the bar, which he even paid for and started quizzing us about Maggie. He was the proud owner of a similar vehicle which was even the same colour but he was most interested in what maintenance we needed done to ours. His theory was that he had mechanics and friends who could sort out any problem and after six months on the road he had no doubt that we needed something fixed. We listed a few minor things and agreed that he would take us to his factory the next day to sort it all out! He was not going to allow us to leave Eldoret with a single pending car issue.

Declining his offer of a second drink we found a brilliant place to park Maggie, pitch our tent and fall over, exhausted after an insanely long day but happy with where we had ended up!

Day 181:

One of the massive dogs, a black Alsatian called Tuff decided to be our Askari (Guard) for the night. He followed us to our camp and slept under the car and even accompanied us to the loo and back. We had a fantastically peaceful night and woke up with the birds before sunrise. We felt refreshed and eager to get the day started and after the second cup of the good stuff and a really nice shower we went exploring around the Naiberi Camp.

The camp site had 5 bandas each with a light, clean water and fireplace. There was a parking spot by every one and hedges in between them to separate groups. There was a long lawn where people could pitch ground tents and the ablutions were fantastic. The place boasted a huge conference hall and restaurant/bar which seemed to be built into the side of a hill. There was a bunch of thatched roof seating areas around extensive gardens and a big swimming pool with its own bar. It was like a huge resort and we seemed to have it all to ourselves.

Raj met up with us shortly after 9am and we followed him into town and onto Ken-Knit, a knitting factory he part owns. We were introduced to his chief engineer and mechanic and were promptly ushered towards the car wash bay. The washing was done with a fire hose which obviously had enough pressure to get all the mud and gunk off the chassis, engine and the rest of the car. When the team was done Maggie sparkled as she had not done in half a year! Our pesky exhaust was next on the list of problems to solve and after a quick phone call we followed the man to his friend, the exhaust man. A quick inspection and comparison between our vehicle and his revealed that we had a totally different and wrong exhaust. Ours had a catalytic converter on. Diesel engines are not supposed to have those and that was the thing that had caused all our issues. The laughable thing was that it had been fixed by welding four times of which once was by Toyota in Arusha and no one ever questioned it. This man in Eldoret’s dirty workshop smiled, shook his head, cut it out and fitted a new section of pipe in its place for $15. I could see that we were going to like having Raj as a friend!

Tupperware (Wheel arch trim made from plastic) was next on the list and I wasn’t hopeful. I wasn’t sure why the designers put that piece of plastic on the side of a rugged 4 x 4 in the first place. The mounting points on ours had broken and a large strong point was split in two. Madds, the engineer had a look and directed us to another friend of Raj’s who owned a panel beating shop. Arriving there we were met by Mary, the manager who instructed one of the staff to fix the problem and quoted us $15 for the pleasure saying that it would take about two hours to complete.

In those two hours we did some other little bits and pieces. We had our shock absorbers tested and sourced some new bushes as we had lost another one and were out of spares. Not actually believing the two hour time frame, we arrived back at the panel beaters to find the job done and done well! They basically re-built all the broken things with fibre glass and re-enforced the structure of the weak parts. It was like magic! They offered to fit it, but we had had some practice and were keen to leave town before the late afternoon.

Our last stop was a 24 hour supermarket. Yip, I kid you not… Eldoret, in Kenya had a 24 hour super market the size of Pick ‘n Pay or Tesco which stocked everything and anything you could imagine from food to hardware to furniture to toys. We only needed wine, but walked around the shop for a while in awe.

We reached the Naiberi Camp hours before dark to find that our special camps site had been invaded by an overland truck. We selected the banda furthest away and commenced operation cooking shortly after. Raj came by to enquire about our day and we felt like he had adopted us. The last thing on our list of car things was to sort our leaking windscreen which was fitted in Lusaka. Raj told us to follow him to work the next day and he would have his windscreen man meet us at the factory. It almost sounded too good to be true!

We did venture into the bar for a nightcap but did not see Raj again. The overlanders seemed geared for a big night which we thankfully escaped as we went to bed fairly early. The design of the property meant that from our tent we could not hear the music from the bar at all which we were thankful for as we fell asleep with our trusty askari Tuff under the car.

Day 182:

The overland truck left before the sun was up and left quietly enough not to contradict our new found impressions of the industry. We got up after the sun came up to find ourselves alone in the camp site again. The friendly staff were going about their business and the laundry lady appeared with our clean garments. The charge was so low that we doubled it which caused a huge smile on her face. We fitted our fixed Tupperware using some spare trip clips I bought in Malawi after the first time we damaged it. Everything fitted perfectly and felt strong and we were both impressed and relieved.

Our new friend Raj came by at the usual time and we followed him to the factory once again. Madds was there to great us and offered us a tour of the factory while we waited for the windscreen guy. Neither one of us had ever been in a knitting factory before, so we gratefully accepted the offer.

WOW! What an impressive place that was! The first room we entered had rows on rows on rows of knitting machines where sweaters were being manufactured. We were shown how the yarn was spun, the machines set up, the patterns made and the finished products packaged. There was around 3 000 people working in that department and everyone looked busy and efficient. We walked through an embroidery room with machines that could do fifty identical patterns at a time and was shown how they recycle their off cuts of material and re-work that into yarn as well. The next department had massive weaving machines and that was where they made blankets or every shape, size and design imaginable. All the blankets were made from recycled off cuts from the knitting department and not a single thread was wasted. They also made Masai blankets from pure wool and much better quality than the ones we saw in Tanzania.

Mr. Windscreen came in the afternoon and inspected our glass. His opinion was that it was not badly fitted at all and only possible issue was that the glass itself wasn’t a perfect fit. The cheap solution was some decent and heavy duty silicon which he expertly applied. If that did not solve our problem, he offered to fit a new windscreen for us for cost price, as we were Raj’s friends.

Driving back to the camp site we tallied up our expenses and came to the shocking realization that the cost of fixing every little thing we could think of cost us $32. We also worked out that our car maintenance cost for4 the trip came to $0.04 per kilometre, which we felt was very reasonable.

Bett, the security guard at the gate moved our table and chairs to our original banda during the day. When we arrived back at camp he told us that he had reserved our favourite spot just in case another truck arrived. I was impressed! We also met Bud. He was there with his wife, Barbara to celebrate their 54^th wedding anniversary and they were the only other guests in camp. We were fairly confident that we would another quiet evening.

After dinner we went to the bar and met Barbara as well who promptly invited us to join them for a chat. Bud was a retired US Army helicopter pilot of 75 years old. They were both doing volunteer mission work in Kenya and had lived in Eldoret for some years. They invited us to share their celebratory chocolate cake which we obviously accepted. We sat at a table, drinking Chai and eating cake and chatting like old friends. As can be imagined, they had some amount of life experience and interesting stories to tell. I think we were equally fascinated by each others life ambitions, experience and dreams. Barbara said that they would love to do a trip like ours when they grow up and after Bud had done the next thing on his list of activities, which was skydiving… In my mind, anyone who could be so obviously full of life and so obviously in love after 54 years together deserved all the respect and honour the world had to give.

Our other new friend, Raj joined us a little later and introduced us to a local Olympic marathon runner he knew. He told us how he was proud to host Bill Gates the year before and dropped a few other names I had never heard of, but still looked impressed about. Raj knew this was going to be our last night at the Naiberi and proceeded in making it a memorable one! He had apparently singed a major business deal that day and we just had to celebrate with him! Which we did…

If I had to do it over again:

It was a fantastically fun filled and adventurous week which we both loved incredibly much. The washed away roads and getting stuck in the mud was part of the adventure and I do not regret any of that.

I think to summit Mt. Elgon we would have needed to stay in the park and had a whole day to hike, but I was pleased with our responsible decision to turn around when we did. The highest point we reached was 3 980m which was still higher than the next highest mountain in Kenya and only about 250m from the summit.

Driving in the dark is never clever and we should have known better, but staying at Naiberi and meeting Raj was a brilliant result of our silly decision to leave Mt Elgon when we did.