Off-Roading

After the ‘almost rest day’ at Irente Farm, we were once again ready to make life difficult for ourselves. An hour down the road we stopped for chai in the small town of Soni. From here we had two options: A 20km cruise downhill on tarmac, descending 1200 vertical metres back to the main road, OR take a left onto a dirt track and wind off-road taking the peaks of the West Usambara Range head on. Needless to say the easy option seemed too easy, so off we went up the steep and muddy track.

Paddy charges up a steep section!

Two hours later we were still climbing, sweating profusely and cursing our decision. Some 500m above Soni, we were now at an estimated 1750m altitude, but the tropical cloud forest provided enough humidity to counteract the cool air we had hoped for. We continued South, enjoying some wild downhills and the most technical and rugged ground my poor bike has ever had to suffer, interspersed with more hard, steep and muddy climbs. The villages we passed through were far removed from any Western commodities, and our bland lunch of Ugali and dried fish, sped us on our way with little to hang around for. As we descended we entered tea plantations and stopped for a break, watching the ‘pickers’ hard at work in the fields below. The boisterous women jovially shouted up at us asking for money, and as Paddy got changed what can only be the Swahili equivalent of ‘Take it off!’.

Afternoon entertainment for the tea pickers

By mid-afternoon, still grinding along some 1000m above the road we were aiming for, the rains arrived, turning dirt tracks to mud,. Whilst this was refreshingly cool we soon resembled drowned rates and our progress slowed further. The last 10km descent was a bumpy, bone-shaking, brake-wearing battle, but we eventually made it to the main road and enjoyed a fresh coconut from a local vendor, who told us it was only 2km to the town. He was wrong of course, and 40 minutes later as darkness descended we made it into town where we retired to a guesthouse to wash out bikes, clothes and filthy bodies. 

After the slow progress of the previous day we were glad to be back on road and making fast progress towards the coast. As we approached sea level, the heat intensified and with zero cloud cover we felt ourselves cooking as we cycled along. With tired legs after yesterday’s exertion we were relieved to find smooth roads and gentle inclines. 30km from our destination we branched off the main road again, once more bouncing over the stones, our motivation provided by the prospect of a dip in the sea and a seafood platter for dinner at our target campsite. We finally arrived just before sunset, fully exhausted and ready for a rest day, which involved nothing more than a bit of bike maintenance and a lot of snoozing in the shade (and another seafood platter!).

We had revised our route due to the early arrival of the monsoon season, and chose to head South down the coast, instead of back inland to the washed out roads we had intended to take. Our only obstacle was the Saadani Nation Park where we might be stung for park entrance fees, or forced to take a bus across due to the presence of ‘game’ in the area.

After an early start, a bumpy 60km down the coastal road and a short ferry crossing , we arrived in Mkwaje, a dusty dead-end town in time for lunch. Despite being on the coast, our only lunch option was a bland choice of Ugali and dried fish. We intended to cross the park mid-afternoon, when any predators might be at their least active. We crossed unscathed, pausing for shade breaks every 30 minutes from the immense heat, only meeting Park Wardens on the far side, who thankfully didn’t seem concerned with parting us from our dollars for park entrance fees.

The ferry across Pangani estuary

We cycled on from the park as the sun lowered in the sky and the heat started to dissipate. As is always the case, after being presented with an abundance of camping options an hour before dusk, by 6:30 and time to pitch up there was nothing but small villages, subsistence farming and elephant grass. We stopped to take stock, and some passing locals told us the large commercial farm to our right was a run by a Mzunghu (white man). We took our chance and were met by the Zimbabwean farm manager Keith, who welcomed us in, and later after enjoying a much needed shower, we met Rory and Sabrina who were running the project. The farm had been derelict for a number of years and the land reclaimed by the bush, and they were in the process of restoring it to commercial operation, employing some 150 of the local community in the process. They were very welcoming and provided us with dinner and a comfortable night’s sleep in their tents with beds (and pillows!).

Over a hearty pancake breakfast the following morning, Rory gave us details of a short-cut, which would cut a 50km corner off our dirt track on the way back to the main road. After a long breakfast we headed off later than usual- keen to make up time before the heat of the day set in. Within 20 minutes, my wheel, in protest of the abuse suffered over the past few hundred kilometers suddenly gave way with 4 spokes snapping in quick succession, resulting in the wheel becoming somewhat ovalised (or is that ovulated?). Unable to run the risk of my wheel collapsing completely, I retired to the shade of a tree while Paddy returned to the nearest village for assistance. He returned 30 minutes later, having commandeered a 3 tonne lorry and driver. We took my bike back to the village and with some tools borrowed from the locals managed to remove my cassette and replace the spokes with the four spares that I had bought on my final morning before leaving the UK.

The local bicycle repair shop

We had lost a full morning riding, but after lunch we headed on confident that with the short cut we could make up ground and be back on the road by evening. An hour later, we slipped, skidded and cursed as we pushed out bikes through mud resembling half-set cement, our bikes barely visible beneath the layers of stodgy dirt. It became clearly apparent why they use this type of dirt to build their houses in these parts! As the dark clouds threatened more rain and even slower progress we reminded ourselves of the old adage “A short-cut is supposed to be difficult, if it wasn’t it would just be ‘The Way’”. After the mud we reached the sand section, which was passable providing you kept your speed up- constantly running the risk of being bucked off in a deeper than expected sand drift. The sand nicely coated the cement/mud, and with every crunch of the gears we feared the damage we were doing to our chainsets. It was incredibly hard going, but wet, muddy, exhausted and half-lost we were having a great time and relished the impossibility of it all! If we had wanted it to be easy we would have stayed in Europe (or on the tarmac at least!).

There's some brakes under there somewhere

We finally reached the ‘truck-stop town’ where the dirt rejoined the tarmac road. It was past nightfall and we once again checked into a guesthouse to clean ourselves and our bikes up. At £1 a night each it was really scrapping the barrel- communally showering (from buckets) in the courtyard with three generations of the owners family. We vowed to be up and away ASAP in the morning.

Back on tarmac seemed like a breeze, and thanks to our 5:45 start we made good ground, with only one shortcut left to take. Are we suffering from amnesia, or just becoming masochistic? Either way, another 2 hard hours ensued, brightened up by a chameleon we found/nearly ran over along the way. On returning to the main road, we enjoyed the kind of lunch we had been missing for the past week (due to the lack of restaurants in the middle of nowhere!). 

We had been given the details of Rory’s sister Kelly, who lives with her husband Deon in Morogoro- our next target town. We texted ahead to see about the chance of putting us up for the night, and were encouraged to learn that we were most welcome, they would have dinner ready for us, and to our utter delight, that they had a pool! This was all the motivation we needed, and we charged onwards through the afternoon heat, arriving somewhat overwhelmed by the generosity and openness with which we were greeted. Every need met, including the use of a washing machine, we retired for a seriously good night’s sleep.