Dar es Salaam to Mikumi
(S 07’ 24, 49” – E 36’ 58, 68”)
I rose early on the morning of the 13th, and had a discussion with Allan about my thoughts of pushing on to Mombasa… He reminded me that the rioting in Kenya was still an ongoing problem, and he felt it would be unsafe for us to ride there now… He had also set his heart on going to Zanzibar for a few days… The only option remaining for me was to turn or home…
I began loading all my gear onto my bike and had a last cup of coffee with Allan. While he packed for Zanzibar I walked out into the garden and thought about what lay ahead for me. About 6000kms stood between me and home… Long way… on my own… Strangely enough, I was looking forward to riding on my own again…even though the butterflies began warming up…
We took a few last photos of each other before we both headed for the mall, me to draw money to get me back to Malawi and he to buy his plane ticket to Zanzibar… I followed Allan’s taxi, dodging the potholes on the road to the Mall for the last time, avoiding hordes of pedestrians and scooters, all the while feeling the excitement building in my chest…
We bid each other an emotional farewell at the mall, before I refuelled and headed into the traffic at a little after noon. I stopped just outside the City Centre, and looked back… I had the feeling that I hadn’t said good-bye properly, or enough or whatever… It just didn’t seem right somehow…
Packed and ready for the long road home…..
Saying farewell at the house in Dar… Ernesto the “automatic gate opener” took the photo…
Then I saw his taxi again, taking the turnoff to the airport… I raised my hand in a final salute and thought I saw him wave back…but I wasn’t sure… I felt my throat tighten and the pinpricks behind my eyes… I’d miss Allan Karl…
I had planned a short first stint and then two longer ones to get back to Lilongwe. I was blessed with light traffic on the way out of the city, and made good time to Mlandiza, 50km outside Dar, and then had to wait a while at the bridge on the Ruvu River…
Long lines of traffic stream over the Ruvu River Bridge as I wait my turn…
The hawkers recognised me from a few days earlier but did not try to peddle their goods; they just waved and wished me a safe journey… I rode the bike hard all the way past Chilindza, passing many trucks stranded along the way. The rain must have crippled a number of transport contractors…
I slowed over the last few kilometres to Morogoro, enjoying the scenery, watching Sisal being harvested and noticing a large tobacco processing factory which I had not seen on the journey to the coast… I also marvelled at the enormous mountain which completely dominated the town. The Uluguru Mountains guarded the entrance to Morogoro, and it felt as though I was being funnelled into the valley behind them. I stopped at the same BP service station and was again spoken to in Afrikaans by a guy selling woven hats… I knew that Iringa lay over 300kms to the south-west, and could not afford to go too fast on the next leg. I set the cramp buster on my throttle to 120km/h and had a good run to the entrance of Mikumi National Park…
I began by riding slowly through the park, watching the many animals which grazed in the open areas. I saw a pair of rhino as well as a small herd of buffalo and a flock of vultures squabbling over a carcass a few hundred metres off the road. The previous evening, a friend of Steve’s had met us at the local pub, and regaled us with stories of people who had gone missing in this park, after stopping to repair a punctured tyre or some other mechanical fault. Apparently the lion population were not averse to the taste of human flesh… I wanted to get my binoculars from my back pannier behind me, but decided against it, remembering the stories from the night before… I stopped to take photos of an elephant which was a few metres from the road, and down in a hollow. I left the motor running, sure that he would not be able to get up the bank in time to dance with me, (if he felt the need to!) before I could kick the bike into gear and motor away…
Arm-cam takes a photo of me and a few elephant in Mikumi National Park…
While I was casually taking my camera out my tank bag, I noticed movement in my left hand side mirror… I watched in horror as another elephant that I had not seen, lumbered towards me from about 20 metres away!! I dropped the camera back into the bag, pulled the clutch in and kicked the bike into first gear, popping the clutch and nearly coming off in my haste to get away… If I had stalled at this point, I am pretty sure that I would not be writing this!! I looked in my mirror and all I could see was elephant, he was still coming!! I eased ahead for another 50 metres or so before stealing another glance at the side mirror, and saw to my amazement that he was still shuffling towards me…!! He was clearly determined to see me off!! By now I had gathered my wits and remained about 30 metres ahead of him, watching as he slowed to a walk, shaking his head and trunk in my general direction… We watched each other for a minute or two, and then he ambled off into the bush…
I sat on the bike for a while longer studying the bush in front and to the side of me to ensure that I was not going to be surprised again… It had been a close call, and my heart rate confirmed this… There’s an old hunter’s saying that goes…”It’s the elephant you don’t see that can mean the difference between life and death…” I now know what they meant…
I gave up on the game watching after that, and concentrated on getting through the rest of the park as quickly as possible, exiting the gate at about 3.30pm, and cruising into the small town of Mikumi. Ahead lay the mountain range leading to the Udzungwe National Park, its peaks shrouded in rain clouds… I stopped the bike and did a few mental calculations… I could make the run for Iringa, 200kms away and get very wet in the process, or I could look for a place to stay in Mikumi and hope that the weather tomorrow would allow for an early start… I decided on the latter option, even though it meant that the following day would be a very long stretch, including a stop at the border…
I had been told about a room at the back of a hospital in town, which was occasionally rented out to visitors and decided to try and find it… I turned into the gates of the St Kizito Hospital, and rode down a winding sand track to the back of the hospital and in through the gates of a small stone house… There I met an Italian doctor who had only arrived there the day before, and did not seem to know what I was talking about when I asked for accommodation…
The entrance to the hospital in Mikumi, where I spent the night in a stone cottage….
I asked a nun who was walking down the path to a little village close by, if she knew about the cottage to rent, and she directed me to “Mamaluma”, a delightful Malawian woman who escorted me to another stone cottage behind the doctor’s house… The digs suited me perfectly!! The building had a large kitchen cum dining room area, with a separate room containing four single beds and a desk. There was a small bathroom attached to the room, with a large shower… There was also soap and towels available, which was unusual for Tanzania… The price of TSH 7 000 per night, even included breakfast!! What a win!!
Just as I put the bike under the eaves of the veranda, a massive storm broke over the area, and the rain pelted down… I was glad I did not make the run to Iringa, and settled into the dining area to catch up on my journal with a large mug of coffee at hand… It had been a strange day, riding without Allan and relying on my own wits again to get me through from Dar. I had enjoyed the ride and hoped that the remainder of the journey south would be as enjoyable as today’s one had been…
I fell asleep to the sound of rain on the corrugated iron roof… I lay thinking about the next leg of the trip, and the leg after that, and the next… I tried to figure how long it would take me to get to Vilanculos, where I planned to spend a few days preparing for the final ride home… Wondering at the reception I would receive from friends…my family…and my partners…so much of my future plans depended on what would happen in the first few weeks of March…
“Beware the Ides of March”…!!
Parked at the cottage with heavy rain falling…. I was amazed at the facilities, considering that the cottage is hidden from the main road by a few hundred metres of narrow dirt road, and is not advertised at all….
© 2008 TBMH
Leave a Reply