The Crossing - Day 3

Morning eventually came and Id had a few hours sleep at some point it seemed. So I packed up, refilled my 4 litres of water and headed off along the road to get to the next planned stop. But before Id got more than a couple of Km the steering went all wibbly and I noticed that I was off to a great start with a flat front tire! Not only that but it was blowing a gale again and there was no way I could try to fix the tire there in the dust with my minimal tools… So, I carefully rode the bike back to camp avoiding all sharp rocks and said hi to my police friends again J And then I set about fixing the tire … It was far easier when I had a firm surface to work on and some shelter from the wind and  leaving out the boring details, I removed the wheel got the tube out, found the leak, patched the tube, reassembled and inflated the wheel and reinstalled it on the bike. So after another hour and a half I was on my way again but by this time the sun was well and truly up and the heat was well and truly “coming down”! I rode out into the desert alone again…

 

 

Now since I had somehow taken a wrong turn yesterday and got myself to a place not on my maps or on my GPS, I had to rely on directions from people to get me back onto the road I wanted… And so I had asked several different people  and not least of which were of course the police who had helped me fix my flat. And they all gave me the same instructions which were easy enough to follow. But they also all gave me the same assurance that the road was good and Id have no difficulty getting to my destination… I was still suspicious of their assurances but since they had all said the same things in their own words I was persuaded…

More blasted rock landscape.

An odd form of prostrate tree out in the desert.

The bike near a veritable forest!

 

It turned out that the directions and distances offered were very accurate, and indeed the quality estimate was accurate too if you had a 4WD… Which is really just saying that there were no serious “steps”, or steep drops or climbs, no fields of large boulders or sand or mud, and the track was fairly clear. But you see a 4WD (or any car) cant really fall over whereas a motorbike can, and people who drive cars really have virtually no understanding at all of this “aspect” of road conditions. It turned out that the road (more like a barely apparent trail at times) I was to take had plenty more of that oversized loose gravel/rubble that gave me such trouble the day before… And plenty of the soft sand river bed crossings and a good helping of steep rubble slopes thrown in for good measure. The “link” section of road that got me back to the “main” track I wanted to be on was only very rarely used and I found myself alone, way out in the desert heat, more than 30Km from any assistance and with no likelihood of passing traffic for several days if anything “unfortunate” should happen! It left me with shall we say a “heightened sense of awareness” and I proceeded with grave caution! Actually, one of the saving graces of the 35Km link road was that it was so infrequently used… That meant that the wheel ruts were very shallow and not restrictive on the bikes steering when it wandered all over the place on the loose gravel. And after three hours on the link road I made it back to the main track and by that time the bike had fallen over a few more times and I was just as dehydrated and exhausted and sweat soaked as I had been the day before. In fact, moreso… When I reached the main track I took stock of things and found that I again had the tingling hands and feet but that now I also had tingling lips and cheeks!  And if I moved my concentration from the few meters of track immediately in front of my bike to say look at the horizon for a moment that my vision went all swimmy for a couple of seconds. Not Good!  So I decided enough was enough and now that I was on the main track (where traffic would likely go by every half day or so) I should take a real rest… I just turned off the bike in the middle of the track near a scrubby little acacia tree, got off, took my water and went and lay down again in the little patch of shade in the dust and rocks and ants and acacia prickles… I again spent the next 20min or so panting and glugging water and having an occasional whimper... Actually I think it was only about 15min before I was definitely starting to recover because at that time I decided that I now did care about the prickles and a few pointy rocks that I was laying on and spent a few seconds adjusting my wretched body accordingly J  I lay there for an hour or so and the tingling and the vision and the panting all returned to more or less normal. But I was still there in the middle of the desert with water supplies rapidly depleting and still about 30Km from my nearest safe stop…

The bike sat in the sun while I rested in the shade.

A little boy who was charged with watching a herd of goats... The kids get left out in the wilderness for days at a time with no food at all and virtually no water... amazingly hardy people!

walking back into the desert to look after the goats.

A couple of Turkana women out in the desert... I have no idea where they came from or were going... Its really bleak out there!

So I picked myself up and meandered my way back over to the bike, got on, and started off along the road again. The remaining 30Km were easier and took only another two hours to complete, and that brought me to Karsa Gate which is the southern entry gate to Sibiloi National Park. And I was feeling much better now… Still exhausted but not “at the limit” anymore. It was early afternoon and so after another half hour of laying about in the shade I set about filling in entry forms and paying entry fees, and replenishing my water supplies.

And of course since I had just had a “bad experience” with car drivers estimates of road quality for bikes, I asked very clear questions about directions and road conditions for the onward road of the Parks Service guys at the gate too of course. And I explained what made the riding difficult and I asked if the forward road was better or worse etc… And thay said that the road ahead was similar but definitely better that where Id come from. And while I remained sceptical, it was going to cost me another $25 to camp where I was so I decided that Id just head into the park with my replenished water, go 20Km or so, camp for the night, get a good early start in the cool of the next morning and finish the remaining 75Km the next day… Clearly my cognitive powers were not as recovered as I thought they were!

And just as a prelude… That’s the LAST time EVER that I will believe car drivers about what is and is not a good road as far as a motorbike is concerned!!!

So, off I toddled into more predator infested countryside J
The first 5Km or so were indeed fine with progress being slow but no spills or significant struggles. But after that, “things hit a bit of a decline!”. The next 7Km got steadily worse with more and more loose rubble and deep wheel ruts and steep slopes and two or three spills. I was rapidly returning to my tingling all over and woozy vision situation of earlier… The final straw was when the bike toppled over half way up a steep rubble covered incline. I tried in vain to lift the bike but couldn’t manage it. Again I rested in some paltry bit of shade of a shrub nearby for 20min before trying again… No luck… After having removed all the luggage from the bike and dragged it around to face across the hill it took me three more tries to finally get the bike upright. By this point my physical situation was rather bleak and I rested for another hour before even attempting to start riding the bike again, but long ago (actually as soon as the bike fell over on that hill) I had decided that I was not going ON, I was going BACK.

The bike laying on its side on the final rubble hill slope... It stayed like that for a long time before I got it upright!

 

So, I ever so slowly started to retrace the 12Km to the park gate (and safety). But over the next 1Km or so the bike proceeded to topple over on me another half dozen times as my waning strength failed to catch the early stages of the topple overs in time and the bike and I were sprawled once more painfully in the rubble. But the terrain was actually getting easier again and righting the bike was less work than on the hill slope that turned me back… What was draining all my strength was the paddling along every meter keeping the bike upright with my leg strength. The last time the bike went down, there was absolutely no shade anywhere to rest under. So I used the absolute last of my strength to get the bike up and then I just flopped down right there and dragged as much of myself under the tiny patch of shade that a motorbike provides in tropical latitudes with the sun nearly straight above it… I cant remember the last time I felt so pathetic and cared so little about what happened next…

Oh hey, you know how in the movies they show people dying of thirst in the desert staggering… and then crawling on all fours,… and then dragging themselves forward by inches with hands out stretched toward “the oasis”… Well I assure you its all crap J
I tell you, once you lose the ability to walk… thats it; you stay where you are and just die… The crawling and dragging thing takes way more energy than staggering along on your feet!... Just so you know J

I admit however that during all these last struggles since heading into the Park, at no stage was I really worried about dying from thirst. Since I knew I was only about 10Km from the gate and that I could always just lay around and wait till dark to walk my way back to safety. So, given that I knew I had at least something of a backup plan, I just took my time and after another hour of laying they blearily looking at the belly plate of the bike from the inordinately close range of about 2cm, I got back on the bike yet again and oh so carefully started moving again… But the terrain was now manageable and there were no more falls and I made it back to the Park gate at about 5pm I think. I didn’t have the strength to even say a word about their crappy road conditions assessment; I just staggered into the shade and lay down one more time on the beautifully comfortable hot hard smooth concrete (no sharp rocks or ants or acacia thorns and only a relatively small amount of dirt and dust J ) But I was now safe at least, and It was now time to think of a “new plan” because it was abundantly clear that what I had been trying to do just was NOT going to work!

 

Back at Karsa gate as the sun set. 

I was in a bit of a bind here at Karsa Gate. You see I definitely still had 2 days and about 200Km of unknown and probably mostly (definitely a significant portion anyway) “unmanageable” terrain ahead of me to the North. But I also had at least 2 days of known and “barely manageable” terrain to the South if I decided to abandon the attempt and go back… But the real problem was that I was running very low on fuel and in either direction I had at least 100Km to go before I had even a possibility of fuel. Now as I said Id planed my fuel needs and had in theory brought enough to get through… But the last few days had several significant detours and track retracings that were not accounted for, there was a lot more terrain that Id covered in 1^st and 2^nd gear rather than 3^rd or higher, and the real problem had been that every time the bike fell over, fuel leaked out of the tank breather line… net result, I was now desperately short of fuel with no way to measure how much I actually had or figure how much I would actually use, and there was absolutely no fuel anywhere near-by!... And vying for first place on my impossible problem list was the simple fact that I was pretty sure that I could not ride the track ahead (likely the shortest distance to fuel) without assistance… hmmm   Good one Grant!

Right, so no matter what I decide to do Im going to need assistance. Right, the only options there are either the Park Service guys who are here now, or I wait (possibly days) for other visitors and try asking them… Ill try the guys here now. Now it happens that between when I rode away and rode back, a 4WD from the Parks Service has rolled up with a bunch of armed (with the usual AK47s) rangers, and they are all just hanging around sitting and chatting in the local language (and probably sharing more than a few laughs at my expense, but like I said I really didn’t care at this stage J ) in the same area that I am (on the concrete in the shade of a building). Sooo, I sort of figure out who is senior among them and I politely ask a few leading questions. They politely pay attention to me and I go on to explain that Ive been a bit of a “silly sausage” and that I have two problems. The first is the fuel, which it turns out there is no way they can help me with since their vehicle is diesel and there is no other fuel at their nearby camp. The second problem is help, and I suggest that maybe if they were doing a “patrol” in either the forward or backward direction then maybe they could accompany me or come along an hour or two after I set off (as a sweeper if I have problems)… orrr Maybe, they might consider taking some of my luggage for me to lighten the bike and make it easier for me… I make it clear that since I have made this mess for myself, I deserve to pay to get help fixing it, and while Im definitely NOT offering a bribe, I would definitely want to “show my appreciation” to anyone who assisted me get out of this situation J    All the PS guys have been listening (tho not all of them speak enough English to know all the details) and the guy in charge (a sergeant I think) exchanges some conversation with a couple of the others for a couple of minutes. Then he talks to me again to clarify where it is I have tried going, where it is I want to try to get to, and what it is that makes riding the bike so difficult… Not that promising from my perspective yet. Then after a few more minutes of discussions that I don’t understand, he talks to me again and says that unfortunately since they are PS guys they have predefined patrol plans and cant go helping tourists on a whim… bummer, but I completely understand… But he goes immediately on to say that however, his guys will be doing a patrol tomorrow morning that goes part way to where I want to get to and that he is pretty sure that from that point the road is more manageable for the bike (yeah I know, Im sceptical). He himself will not be on the patrol, but if his guys turn out to be helpful to me then he would be greatful if Id show my appreciation to them… I assure him I would and I indicate to what level my gratitude would likely extend J. No further details are discussed (in pursuit of plausible deniability I think) and the group of them head back to their camp in their 4WD and I settle down for a comfy night laying on the concrete of the Park Service building with expectations of some sort of assistance in the morning but not sure quite what J

... still writing... stay tuned.