Mount Kilimanjaro (5895m) & Mount Meru (4566m) region of Tanzania. (Longido Peak is off this map in the upper left corner.
Longido Peak is >↓< here (2629m).
The story of an atypical day; followed by my blog posts (with photos) from Sept. 25th & 26th/2010:
The Longido Separation
“I’m going this way” Julie said, as she took an alternate path next to the deeply-rutted sandy jeep track I was following. That was the last I saw of her for seven hours as we both continued cycling across the savanna between Mount Kilimanjaro and Longido Peak. Julie hadn’t slept much the night before, worrying about lions finding our tent pitched next to volleyball-sized chunks of elephant dung. Elephants are the most dangerous creatures encountered on a game drive, but the dung looked pretty old. We did see zebras as we struck camp in the morning and stopped for tea and cookies in Tinga Tinga, Tanzania, a Maasai village that we stopped in the night before looking for lodging. Some men and boys had walked us three kilometers to a Maasai village built for tourists, where $300 was the cost to spend the night. That was about ten times more than our budget allowed, so we backtracked 7k to Ndarakwai Camp, where they wanted to charge us $60 for a camp site with no facilities. We opted to stealth camp for free just off the road. I told Julie that there are almost no lions left in Kenya because the Maasai consider the killing of a lion to be a test of manhood. We were in the Maasai region of Tanzania near Kenya. Some local Maasai men on a motorcycle verified that fact for Julie the next day.
Our Longido separation resulted from a comedy of errors and incorrect assumptions. I had meant to tell Julie we needed to stick together due to the multitude of jeep tracks criss-crossing the savanna. We could have stayed on the main Nairobi highway through Arusha, but opted for the more remote route between Mount Meru and Kilimanjaro. My map showed a paved road all the way, but a more detailed map showed it degenerating to a jeep track at Tinga Tinga. With only 50km to hit the Nairobi Highway at Longido I thought we’d have no problem; we had all day to get there.
Scrub trees separated our two paths no more than 50m apart. I waited for Julie at the intersection and blew my loud air horn, not knowing if she was up ahead or behind me. I saw fresh bike tracks going ahead, assumed they were hers and rushed to catch up. After going 1.4k I realized the tracks must not be hers and turned back. I left a message in the sand at that intersection and rode back and forth on possible routes, like searching for a man overboard at sea. When I didn’t find her I decided to backtrack 6k to Tinga Tinga, hoping she went back there instead of going on across the savanna. That was incorrect assumption number two, and increased our separation by a couple of hours. Getting separated on the African savanna is a little more serious than getting separated at the mall.
Not long after continuing on towards Longido I met a priest driving a white pick-up, the only vehicle I saw all day. He said that Julie was just 4k ahead and had given him a message, in case he saw me, that she was continuing on towards Longido peak, which we could see in the distance. I worried less knowing that Julie had the courage to continue on, and figured I’d catch up to her soon. I got to a main intersection, near a knoll, and followed her tracks to the northwest. A sinking feeling befell me when after four kilometers her tracks turned around and went back. Incorrect assumption number three was that she went back to that intersection to take the more westerly route, (maybe she met someone who told her that was the best way). And here is number four: I thought that instead of following her tracks back, I would continue on and find a road going south that would intersect with the westerly route. So I did turn south on a jeep track but it never intersected with another. I got to a remote Maasai village and met an elder there to ask about the road to Longido. It was back on the northwesterly jeep track, he told me. I still couldn’t decide whether I should take that route, thinking that since Julie’s tracks turned around she might be on a different track. But she gave the priest the message that she would go on to Longido where we could meet up. I rode back and forth indecisively on a bad section of track, near a girl watching cattle who had approached me earlier to ask for water. I didn’t have water to spare, but I did have money. So when she approached again I asked to take a photo of her. The Maasai are a proud people who know that tourists will pay for photos. Earlier that morning I paid a young man 50 cents for a shot of him brushing his teeth with a twig; people in India do that, too. After chewing the end of a special type of twig it can be used as a brush. I figured the girl would settle for a lower price and we were negotiating when two boys approached us. One seemed to be about 15 and the other, dressed more traditionally and carrying a spear, about 13. The younger one became aggressive, insisting that I needed to see a village elder to get permission to be on this road. I did not know enough Swahili to explain that I just visited the village elder. He was putting his hand on my brakes to prevent me from leaving. Even when I turned to go towards the village he was not satisfied, and was curious as to what treasures might be in my panniers. I tried to lighten him up by asking his name, in Swahili. “Why” he responded, refusing to give his name. That’s not a good sign, I thought; not sure whose side the older boy would be on if I struggled to flee. I slowly pushed my bike to where the track was firm enough to pedal swiftly, and did so as the Maasai youth with the spear ran alongside me. When I looked over and saw him smiling I knew I was in the clear.
When I got back to the main route and saw Julie’s tracks again I felt elated. She was walking her bike now and I soon caught up to her. We sat in the shade eating our emergency can of tuna as I patched her flat tire. I patched six flat tires that day. The jeep track had gotten sandier and we picked up thorns when we tried to find firmer ground. We both walked the last couple hours as the sun set and headlights from vehicles appeared in the distance. It still took us another hour to reach the Nairobi Highway and we were thirsty, having drunk our last water before sunset; but our spirits lifted upon seeing the head of a giraffe sticking up above the acacia trees. We could not pedal on the smooth, new pavement with no traffic, (detoured for road construction) as we had three more flat tires and my pump was not working well. We fantasized about making it to a hotel in Longido and having a beer. A Full Moon rose as we approached a construction crew (camped 8k from town) where we drank two liters of water each, set up our tent, and ate our last can of tuna. We were so tired and thirsty that that was enough, as long as we had each other.
Saturday, September 25th, 2010
We started the day with Arusha as our destination, but after cycling 25k on the busy highway chose to turn off on the road that goes between Kilimanjaro and Mount Meru. My map shows that it’s paved all the way to the Nairobi Highway, though more detailed maps we’ve seen locally indicate that it degenerates into a jeep track. Upon arriving at the Maasai village of Tinga Tinga we inquired about lodging at the only shop and were taken to Olpopongi Cultural Village, located 3 km out of town. We knew it would be too expensive for us, having inquired at a travel agency in Moshi and decided that $150 a night is beyond our budget; but that’s where the locals wanted us to stay. I thought maybe we could work something out. However, when we got there, the manager said it would cost us $300 (!) to spend the night; so we politely said good-bye and headed for Ndarakwai Camp, 7 km away. There they wanted to charge us $60 for a campsite, so we turned back one kilometer and stealth-camped just off the road next to zebra and elephant dung. This is the first time we have camped in Africa.
Dry elephant dung on my BikeBins at our stealth camp.
Sunday, September 26th, 2010
The jeep track heads across the savanna towards Longido peak (2629m).
Longkishu brushing his teeth with a twig.
Drinking tea in Tinga Tinga.
Maasai men in Tinga Tinga
We struck camp before dawn and saw zebras crossing the road nearby. Last night monkeys meandered and antelope roamed close to the tent. Julie did not sleep well worrying about lions. She was not convinced by what I’d read: that since it is a rite of passage for Maasai men to kill a lion, almost no lions are left in Kenya; which was confirmed later in the day by Maasai men on a motorcycle. We rode back to the shop in Tinga Tinga for tea and biscuits. The tea cost us 7 cents each, no charge for refills.
We ventured out on the jeep track to Longido and soon became separated. Since the main jeep track becomes rutty with loose sand, many alternate tracks deviate on either side. Julie chose to take an alternate route and that was the last time I saw her for seven hours. I never panicked, though getting separated on the savanna is more serious than getting separated in a shopping mall. I waited for her where the tracks rejoined after half a kilometer. When she did not respond to honks on my loud air horn, I figured she went on ahead and I followed a fresh bike track for 1.4 km. That was the first mistake in a comedy of errors. While I was going back and forth looking for her on the alternate track, she continued on ahead on the main track. I then backtracked six kilometers to Tinga Tinga, hoping she did too, while she continued on towards Longido.
Later I asked a priest driving a pickup if he’d seen Julie and he said she was just 4k ahead and told him to give me the message that she was going on to Longido, which is the same message I’d left in Tinga Tinga. I felt elated that she was okay and we’d soon be reunited. However, after following her tracks for about 8k my heart sunk when her tracks turned around. I assumed that she went back to take a fork in the road that may have been a route to reach the Nairobi highway further south of Longido. I thought I’d continue on to Longido, and head south if I found a track that would intercept that route. I soon turned south on just such a track, but never intercepted a well trodden route. I asked for directions at a remote Maasai boma in this sparsely populated savanna.
After cycling back and forth, uncertain which way to go, I trusted Julie to make it to Longido without me. After rejoining the main route to the north, I spotted the track of someone with bike cleats. It had to be Julie, who is now walking her bike as the road surface is getting worse. We reunited at 3:30 pm, and celebrated by eating our emergency can of tuna while I fixed flat tires on both our bikes. At this point I had cycled 70 km and Julie 40k. The remaining 15k could have been done before dark if we’d been able to ride, but had to get off and push through the loose sand. We ran out of water as the sun set, but our spirits lifted upon seeing the head of a giraffe sticking up above the acacia trees.
As it got dark we could see the distant lights of Longido and headlights moving on the Nairobi Highway. We are both thirsty and exhausted and now have three flat tires. Our tires have picked up hundred of thorns and I’d been pumping up the slow leaks, but now my pump is not working well. Though it’s not wise to push a bike with a flat, just making it to the highway was our single-minded goal. With just a quarter of a km to go, Julie’s rear tire came off the rim and the tube wrapped around the sprockets. Surprisingly, the tube was not destroyed and we made it to the freshly-paved highway; but could not pedal on it because of our flats.
The nearly-full moon rose and we soon came to a highway construction camp where we promptly drank two liters of water each. Though we’d fantasized about drinking cold soda or beer and sleeping in town after eating a well-earned meal; camping with the construction crew and eating a can of sardines was good enough after being told that town was still 20k away. We now have plenty of water, and each other.
Celebrating our reunification with tuna & biscuits.
A Maasai youth driving cattle down the jeep track.
Candelabra trees near Tinga Tinga.
It does bother me that pulling out a camera changes our interaction with others. I become a tourist who wants something from them, and most people expect to be paid. Near the remote Maasai boma on the savanna when Julie and I were separated, I asked a girl tending goats for a photo. “Naomba kupiga picha?” I asked in Swahili. She asked for a thousand shillingi ($.75), the going rate among the Maasai. I’d negotiated a fee of $.50 with Longkishu (brushing his teeth with a twig) and the girl had agreed to $.30 when two boys approached us. The older one (maybe 15) carried a spear, and the younger one (maybe13) become aggressive with me. He seemed to think that he needed to take me to the boma to see his papi, maybe for permission to travel through their territory. I’d already been there to get directions, but he put his hand on my handlebars to prevent me from leaving. I wondered what the lad with the spear would do if I pushed the younger one away, and took off. I tried to be friendly by asking his name. “Kwa nini?” (why?) he asked as he tried opening my Bikebins, wondering what treasures he might get from me. I got off and slowly walked my bike to a firm patch of ground that I could pedal on, then hopped on the bike and pedaled away as he ran along side, smiling. I wonder now if negotiating the fee for a photo turned me into a foolish tourist with deep pockets, spending money meaninglessly.
