A few days at Lake Naivasha gave me the chance to recharge my batteries after a few tough days riding. The bad roads had also taken their toll on the bike and so this was a perfect time to give the bike a little service and a nice clean. Lake Naivasha was one of the most popular areas for white European settlers and the area is now home to many flower farms. The miles and miles of hydroponic tunnels scar the landscape and no doubt have an effect on the ecosystem of the lake and surrounds but the labour intensive farming practices create many jobs. One local told me that the flower farms are responsible for 90% of the jobs in the area and I would guess that tourism makes up the remaining 10% as there are quite a few lodges scattered along the lakeshore.
I spent a couple nights camping under the huge acacia trees on sprawling green lawns at a spot called Fisherman’s Camp. It is quite a popular spot with the odd overland truck and quite a few backpacker type tourists passing through. The trees are home to hundreds of Colombus Monkeys and the vocal hippos venture out the waters at night to graze on the campsite lawn, separated from the tents by a single electronic wire. A popular attraction in the area is the nearby Hell’s Gate National Park and the hot springs found within the park. The park is unique in that you are allowed to ride bicycles within the park’s fences and it is simple to rent mountain bikes so I took a ride through the park’s impressive gorge to the have a look at the hot springs. It is a brilliant way to view game and the main road through the park has many grazers that remain relatively docile as you quietly pedal by. En route to the hot springs I also stopped at a huge pinnacle of rock known as Fischer’s Tower. The aptly named tower is a well known rock climbing spot and there I met Joseph, with whom I had arranged to do some rock climbing the previous day. Even though the gear hire and climbing pass was a little expensive I could not resist topping out on Fisher’s Tower (45m high) and the views from the top made it more than worthwhile.
From Lake Naivasha I made my way northwards on a short stretch to Nakuru. My mother’s side of the family is from this area and en route I stopped at a town called Gilgil to visit Rob Harte, my mo
After having a relatively easy past few days, I packed my bike with intent and decided to head straight for Jinga over the next two days. The road westwards from Nakuru towards Lake Victoria provided for some amazing scenery! Around Nakuru the landscape was fairly dry as the rains have evaded the area through the winter months but as I rode westwards the land changed from dry baron and rocky to green, lush and overgrown within the space of 10km. I looked back at one point and saw what almost looked like semi-arid desert, then turned around to be met by green hills covered in jungle and looming grey clouds overhead. After driving through miles and miles of tea plantations and even stopping to enjoy some extremely fresh tea on the side of the road, I was eventually greeted by the truly magnificent sight of Lake Victoria! A view so vast that, if I did not know any better, I could quite easily have mistaken it for the ocean. Just as I started to drop off the hills surrounding the lake, the heavens decided to open and unleashed some of the heaviest rain I have ever seen, let alone ridden through. With nowhere to take cover I just chugged along slowly through the downpour, counting the kilometres down one by one until I reached Kisumu.
Kisumu is the third biggest city in Kenya, it is found on the eastern shores of Lake Victoria and recently, has become increasingly famous as it is home to the family of Barack Obama. The whole of Africa is “Obama Crazy”, Kenya, in Particular, is “Obama Crazy” but the city of Kisumu is on another level of “Obama Craziness”. Almost every car, bus, scooter, billboard, street sign and house window is plastered with the American president’s face with stars and stripes in the background. It is a little disconcerting but encouraging to see how unified the people of Africa could become under the reigns of a deserving and honest leader.
After one night in the rather dingy YMCA hostel in Kisumu and a
The border crossing could have been easier had I not allowed an “Official Helper” to usher me through from office to office. This is always a mistake but he told me that he worked for immigration services and had the “badge” to prove it. I was too tired and lazy to argue for my border crossing independence so just followed him and my documents through the procedures of African border crossings. This crossing seemed to require a little more homework to be done and to be honest my helper probably saved me a little time up until we reached the insurance office. In retrospect I realised that the only reason he was so willing to take me under his wing was to try and rip me off beyond comprehension when it came time to buying third party insurance. After a lot of arguing about the apparently “negotiable” premium for third party insurance cover I eventually got up and stormed out. They tried to charge me exactly 10 times what I eventually ended up paying in the next town. The argument forced a border crossing policeman to get involved, he stood in between myself and the insurance salesman wielding a M16 rifle and at that point I realised exactly where I was and what was going on and tried to get out of that place as quickly as possible. Luckily the border police were privy to the dubious ways of the insurance companies and sort of took my side, or at least allowed me to walk away from the border post alive.
I drove away
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