Arusha and the elusive Kilimanjaro…

This pack of dogs followed me everywhere...

Clouds hung over the mountains all around the village of Lushoto, and the security guard assured me that it would rain within the next hour or so. I got all the kit onto the bike, ate a light breakfast, and left the hotel as quickly as I could.

The pack of dogs that had greeted me on my arrival the day before, followed me back and forth to my room, while I carried things out to the bike… They were clearly starved for company, and each time I looked in their direction, it would set a half dozen tails wagging…

I had not managed to sort out the problem with my head-cam, so resolved to use my standard video camera to film parts of my trip down to Mombo, and the highway that would take me to Arusha… The ride down through the narrow mountain pass, was as exhilarating as the ride up it had been the previous afternoon, but all too soon it was over, and I took the final hairpin bend into Mombo, and stopped to refuel…

While I did this, a woman wandered over and tried to sell me a live chicken, which flapped at the end of a piece of string tied to it’s legs… I declined her offer, and asked if I could take a photo of her with her chicken. The petrol attendants said I should go ahead and take a photo, but the old girl did not seem too keen, so I put my camera away and got back on the road…

Clouds spill over the Usambara Mountains... I had left in the nick of time...

Dark clouds gather above me, as I pass a rare road sign advising of the distances ahead...

Arusha lay about 300 km to the north-west, so I knew that I had plenty of time on my hands, and rode at a moderate pace, taking in the scenery and stopping often to take photos.

I was once again riding through extensive sisal plantations, and just as I entered the village of Mazinde, I saw what I presumed to be the fibre of this plant, being stacked out onto drying racks in a field on my left…

I slowed down and then entered the parking area of a ramshackle building that purported to be the headquarters of the “Mazinde Group of Sisal Estates”.

There I introduced myself as “an inquisitive biker that wanted to know more about Sisal”… The field manager, Sixtas, and his assistant Frank, then proceeded to tell me all about the production of Sisal and how it ended up as rope and table mats (amongst other things…)We walked down a flight of stairs and out into the fields behind the offices, to take a look at what was happening out there…

Sisal fibre hanging out to dry in the sun...

After drying the fibres are taken to be combed, to rid them of any remaining bits of flesh...

The plants are kept in nurseries until their root systems are healthy enough to be planted out in the fields. The leaves can usually be harvested by the time the plant is 2 to 3 years old, and this process continues throughout the year and for a maximum of about 10 to 12 years, at which time the plant grows that large stalk you sometimes see sticking up from its centre.

Frank the field manager poses proudly next to the drying fibres...

Thousands of European Swallows make their nests under the eaves of the Sisal Office block...

At this point, the plant has given of its best… The “stalk” is removed, and sold as building material (poles), and the remaining leaves are harvested… The remaining “trunk” of the Sisal plant is then yanked out of the ground and discarded… I looked over at a huge pile of them, rotting out in the bush next to the road, and was reminded of how expensive these were back in South Africa, where they were sold as potential nesting boxes to hang in our gardens…

The Sisal leaves are put through a crusher, where all the “pulp” and outer covering is removed. The exposed fibre is then hung out to dry for a day or two, before being sent off to a factory where it is “combed” to remove any last bits of flesh and other impurities. At this point it is baled and either exported as raw Sisal fibre, or, it is taken to a factory on the road to Tanga, where it is converted into rope, floor mats of various sizes and table mats…

Sixtas did not want his photo taken, but Frank was far more obliging, and posed near a rack where Sisal was drying… After a further half hour of chit chat, I went back to the office block, where I noticed thousands of European Swallows had made their nest under the eaves of the building… A small group of the workers gathered around the Big Fella, asking all the usual questions, and then bid me “Safari Njema”… and a few “Go with God’s”, as I rode back out onto the road and headed for Same, a town to the northwest on the B1…

Tanzania's version of Table Mountain...??

I hope President Obama has declared his interests in this business to the U.S. Congress...

At midday, I reached Himo Junction, which is a short distance from the Kenyan border. I turned west from here and rode quickly towards the town of Moshi. Despite the large bank of cloud that covered it, I knew that Kilimanjaro lay before me. This is the highest free standing mountain in the world, and yet it was more often than not, hidden from view. A mystery mountain, if ever there was one…

It is a massive earner of foreign exchange for Tanzania, and many a paleface from all over the world, have paid handsomely for the honour of summiting Uhuru Peak, the highest point on the African continent… I would not be joining the list of folk I knew personally, who had summit-ed Kili, as I did not have the time to arrange the climb, get hold of some proper gear, and then spend five days lugging my carcass up this mountain…

This was as close as I was going to come to seeing Kilimanjaro...

In Moshi, I bought some airtime for my Tanzanian phone card from a Total service station, and drank an ice cold Stoney Ginger beer from the well stocked fridge on the forecourt. The manageress of the service station was disappointed that I was not filling up, but quickly got over it when I offered her a sweet from my rapidly diminishing stash… We chatted for a while about Kilimanjaro and the fact that it spent most of its time hiding in thick cloud…

“You must go and climb it!” she instructed me,”Many people go up there from here in Moshi…”

“Have you climbed it?” I asked..

“Oh, no,” she replied, “I am too fat, and cannot be away from my family for four or five days…”

“I do not have five days to spare either, and am too unfit to walk all the way up there,” I told her…

“If you can ride a piki-piki all the way from South Africa, to Moshi, then you can do it!” she said clapping her hands together…

Back in the saddle, I rode on towards Arusha, and from a long way off, I could see Mount Meru, dominating the town below it… This dormant volcano once stood taller than Kilimanjaro, but it’s final eruption (hundreds of years ago), blew almost a third of it to smithereens. It is nevertheless an impressive mountain, and can be seen from miles away…

The extinct volcano, Mount Meru, looms up on the road to Arusha...

How many branches of Shoprite have an extinct volcano as a backdrop...

I rode into the grounds of the Impala Hotel, called David Owens, a friend of Rob Gush’s, and a short while later he, his wife Judi and son Zach, met me there, and then guided me to their home on the northern edge of town, where I spent my first night in Arusha… On our way there, we stopped off to buy a few items from the local Shoprite… While I waited in the parking area, a group of Tanzanians came over to look at the bike. After answering their questions, the father of two young boys, shyly asked if I would pose for a photograph with his two sons… I happily agreed to his request and chatted to his sons afterward, reminding them to stay in school long as they were able… When their father called them over to their car in order to leave, the boys held onto me, and did not want to go… Eventually, they shook hands with me, giving me their brightest smiles, and ran off to join their family…

From their garden, the Owens have amazing views of Mount Meru, but just as we sat down on the front porch to enjoy some snacks that Judi had prepared, clouds scudded across the sky and the mountain disappeared… Moments later, a light rain began to fall, driving us indoors… The climate here can change very quickly !!

I was asked to pose for a photo with these two little guys outside Shoprite in Arusha...

It had been a relaxing run in from Lushoto, and I had ridden the 340 km from the Lushoto Mountain Reserve in six hours, stopping often to admire my surroundings… I began to realize that there was little point in spending 8 to 10 hours in the saddle, in order to cover between six and seven hundred kilometers in a day… Not only did it take a lot out of you, but no matter how you cut it, covering more than 80 kms an hour was the best you could expect to average in Africa… There are just too many distractions…

Some pleasant; in the amazing scenery and people you come across, and others unpleasant; the road conditions, dodging stray domestic animals, bicycles, taxis and buses, and sometimes, there are harsh weather conditions to contend with…

I resolved to cut down the daily mileage I was trying to get through, and make shorter runs, that would give me time to recover and settle before the next ride…

We will see how far I get with this particular resolution….