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From:
Date: 26 Mrz 2006
Time: 15:06:58 +0100
Remote Name: 80.255.47.254
From Moyale, the border town, we had three days of riding until the next rest day at Marsabit, one of these days was supposed to be the worst days riding of the whole TDA - in the infamous Dida Gagalu desert, a lava rock desert formed many million years ago by all of the local volcanos spewing out dirty great chunks of rock. The day out of Moyale was actually a nice days ride - the sand was packed, the scenery was beautiful, and we had our first glimpses of the Masai wandering around. The day began with a huge descent out of Moyale, which many of the racers went down like the proverbial bats out of hell. As I was trundling my way down, Gergo was coming back up the hill going back to Moyale - hmm, strange, I thinks. It turned out he had flown down at such a speed that his GPS (his favourite toy by far) had flown off the handlebars and was no doubt lost forever. As it turned out Jaco had picked it up and, after letting Gergo suffer for a short while in the evening, gave it back to him. That was one happy Hungarian. I rode with Jenny and Kees in the afternoon when the road deteriorated a little, but was still rideable, and we bush camped again that evening. The next day the road became progressively worse - just huge chunks of rock all over the road. I rode with Jenny and Kees again - Jenny is a lightweight and kept bouncing off her saddle, (no suspension seatpost), she ended the day with one of the quotes of the trip, along the lines of: "I've given birth to two children and that was easier on the backside than riding that". All three of us ran out of water towards the middle of the afternoon. We managed to fill up at some sort of small generator station - I assumed that the water came from the local wells and bore holes, and drank the lot with no negative effects. We bounced into camp that evening, backsides getting as tough as the heat shields on the space shuttle, and bush camped in a landscape that can only be described as moon-like. Nothing but rocks and the horizon. The third day into Kenya was referred to as the hardest riding day of the trip - the morning on lava rock and the afternoon climbing an extinct volcano to Marsabit. About eight people decided to ride the truck, but I decided to have a go at the day (fool that I am) and managed to get about 6k short of the lunch truck when it came back for me. A hell of a tough ride in a headwind so strong that it threatened to blow me out of the narrow tracks and into the lava rock on many occasions, but I'm glad I had a go - by lunch I had joined many other riders who managed the morning and then bailed. Arrived in Marsabit ready for well earned rest day.