From Rastas to Pirates

I see a pair of glowing eyes looking at me through the dark.  Then a big toothy grin appears.  Hyenas.  Creepiest creatures in the world.  They let out this high-pitched daffy giggle and act like timid little demons… just enough to make you think you’re above em in the food chain.  Then they flip the script, posture up, let out this deep growling snort and you realize you’re in the wrong place.  This one’s just staring at me.  Roaming around back and forth.  Then he opens his mouth and Arabic starts flowing out.  What the hell’s going on?  Another one shows up and they start bickering, in Arabic, over an entry visa.  ???  Then they dissolve and my eyelids crack open to a bright new sun.  I’m lying in the dirt.  Rien’s  10 feet away lying there too.  Two Sudanese men are standing a few meters away arguing over what seems to be some customs issues.  We must be in Sudan.  It’s a dusty little town with some trees sprouting up.  It’s nice to finally see trees again. 

There’s a stream of hundreds of Ethiopians crossing a little bridge walking by us.  All staring at the two whiteys on the ground who seem to have gotten severely lost.  You can tell they’re Ethiopians instantly by the way the woman have shed their hijabs (Islamic ninja suits) and now dawn bright, tight-fitting outfits that make sure to show off the curves.   Rien and I arrived at this tiny Sudanese/Ethiopian border crossing late last night.  The “office” was closed so we just camped out for the night.  We popped up, pushed through the people and signed into Ethiopia.  What a nice change of scenery.  Climbing up into the cool mountains with eucalyptus trees and rivers everywhere. 

The people are a lot more interested in getting our money here though.  The token phrase EVERYBODY uses as we ride by is “YOU YOU YOU, give me money!”  These people in this North Western region aren’t starving, they’re not on their deathbeds.  They just got used to dumb white people coming through, throwing their money at them feeling like they were giving back to society.  They weren’t giving back to society.  They just turned an entire region of intelligent, independent people into part-time (and sometimes fulltime) beggars.  Thanks whiteys.  

The people here have this exotic version of Christianity/Animism/Rastafarianism that includes cross tattoos on their foreheads and dots on their cheeks and big wooden cross necklaces.  It’s kinda cool.  The Ethiopians we the only nation in Africa that were never colonized. They are very proud people with much more of an identity and culture we have yet to see.

We started with the small university town of Gondar for a few nights rest and finally a cold beer after dry Sudan.  Worked our way south through the comfortable countryside.  Everything felt safe and relaxed.  We had finally made it past all the paper work obstacles and were pretty sure the bikes would be legal to go all the way south now!













We decided to head to a resort town on a lake to relax and head towards the capitol. Bahir Dar!
We had some delicious food and relaxed a bit. As usual Nate and I are counting every dollar and looking for an ATM that will get the job done.

In the morning we decided to head towards the capitol, Addis Ababa, with our local friend Saed, who offered us a place to stay and the Czech guys who were riding in their Landcuiser. I told Nate I wasn't feeling well but chose to ride anyways. I knew Saed could handle the bike if things got bad....and oh they did. I kept riding even though I felt very bad and could feel a weak fever coming on. Oh @#$% did I get malaria already? So Saed rode my bike after about 100km / 75 mi. After sleeping in the land cruiser for about 4 hours I awoke sick but fever fading. Relief as this indicates some sort of stomach business, not malaria. Note: Malaria is by a massive margin the number one killer in Africa, all other things combined don't even come close.

little overturned bus action

So we cruised in late at night through the jumbled, on-road off-road, half lit-up half pitched black city into a nice little home behind massive barbed-wired walls and big dogs. I was layed out with a vicous stomach thing for a few days....I'll spare y'all the graphic details. Addis ababa was a broke down capitol city with lots of character. We met some cool people but we'll discuss that on the pass through heading south.

We worked on the bikes and devised a plan for trying to ride all the way to the Somali coast.

It was out of the way, but I heard the fish was excellent in Berbera.  We went from embassy to embassy getting the necessary visas for the next legs of the trip.

We geared up after a week or so and shot out east for the border.




We came across the Awash national park the first day and after making a few extra payments the rangers allowed us to ride the bikes in.  It was about 15 miles of rough, rugged track.  A good chance for us to practice for the fabled, treacherous North Kenya road that we would one day have to traverse.  A lot of big rocks and thick sand.  Really tough when your bike is tall and top-heavy like ours.  We were managing through when I came around a corner and jolted to a stop to catch my breath.  And then I saw him… Twenty feet away.  Sent a tingle right up my spine.  It looked like a 5-foot cross between a dog, and cat, and a demon.  Just staring at me.  A striped hyena.  Way bigger than anything I wanted to fight off.  I just opened the throttle and took off with that thought in the back of my mind that dropping the bike now might mean being lunch (which probably wasn’t true).

On the way out my ABS sensor popped off and I rode with traditional brakes, not a big deal, but you get used to a totally different braking style.

We finally found a spot to camp near some cliffs and these cliffs were COVERED with baboons.  We hiked up and chilled with the primates as the sun set.  Slept the night there with the sounds of hyenas and who-knows-what-else walking around. We proceed to try our best to create a pathetic barricade with bikes, like a hyena couldn't walk right through it.









The next day we hiked over through some palm trees to find a little hot spring.  And I mean HOT spring.  Neon blue and awesome.  So we headed back to the main road and kept going east.  The landscape slowing started getting rugged again.  Rocks replaced trees.


Shamonalogue:
Nate: Wow, that crocodile almost had you huh?
Rien: What?
Nate: Yea big crocodiles right?  We shouldnt have swam there!!

Japanese people passing us to go to the springs (first tourists, and Japanese, we've seen yet): WHAT DID YOU SAY, CROCODILES!?!?!?!

Nate: Just kidding guys.

AWESOME!!!

We pulled up to an interesting bridge towering over a deep ravine that was well guarded with young troops carrying AK’s.  “Hey guys.  Uh we wanna pass.”  “No!  You go!”  “Uh but we need to go to Somalia.”  Then a long stream of Amerik ( Ethiopian talk) with an AK pointed at me.  “Guys, I don’t understand the problem.  Other people are passing.  Can’t we just slip you a few bucks?”  More AK’s getting waved around.  This went on for an hour.  What we eventually figured out was it was the motorcycle that wasn’t allowed because they had an old tradition that cyclists and bikers would be able to toss a bomb over the side more easily  and destroy the bridge, so they were banned.


“Guys we don’t have bombs.  You can check.”  “No, no, no!  You go!”. Guys the cars can do more bad stuff. NO!  After way too much back and forth, the head guy says ok here’s what we do.  Flags down a truck and tells me I have to put my bike in the back for getting over.  “Are you kidding me?!?  Does that make any sense?!?”.   “We’re not breaking tradition.”  So we haul my heavy bike up on the bed, drive 100 meters and drop it off the back.


Literally, drop it off the back. Awesome.  I run back across to help Rien with his debacle .  No trucks show up.  We wait.  Finally the head guy is like “Oh just go.”  And so he rides across… with a soldier on the bike.  So, so stupid.  And it gets even dumber on the ride back… But we continue east.

The ride here is epic rolling hills, a bit dry, but the freedom is of the suffocating type. It makes you want to believe that it can't end. There was a bit of euphoria due to the nervousness about crossing into Somalia. An unadvised decision by many.

We stop for a relaxing overnighter in Harar. We go and see the famous, Hyena feeder man. But as you all probably know by now, just seeing is never enough for Nate and I, we have to push the limits.











In case you have not watched National Geographic lately, these demonic beast have the strongest jaw of any mammal. Coupled with the crazy noises, these things creep me out.

















And they wander the streets freely in this town....making for an interesting walk home from the bar.

The beer at our hotel was delicious as a strong warning from an American ("you guys are fucking idiots" to be exact) was our departing goodbye the night before we head to the border.

The terrain is harsh now.  Rocks, dust and massive tornado-looking dust devils everywhere on the horizon.  And the people in the little villages seemed to reflect their harsh environment.  Seeing these tornado things everywhere was quite a show.  I kept watching the locals to see if there was any panic about em.  When the locals run you run.  But everyone was cool.  I would dodge the dust devils every now and then as they crossed the road.  Big massive swirling beasts.  Then one caught us.  Tried to time it right… timed it wrong.  We slammed on the brakes, braced ourselves and the big swirling beast went right over us.  Turned out to be way less dramatic than it looked, but kinda cool still.  So we missed the small dirt road turn off to the Somali border due to a lack of signs and GPS usage and ended up 50 miles too far south.  Some locals flipped us around and we found the dirt road leading to the border. Oddly enough, we rarely get good directions or someone who speaks good english, but we just happened upon a clear and concise teacher in a small village who told us exactly where to expect the turn. Not only that but the confidence and clarity of his description gave us comfort as the heat of the day was subsiding...which means the dusk is approaching. Not a good time to go through a famous bandit road and one of our most dangerous border crossings of yet.



Passing through the bandit road, coupled with all the hype, felt like a cross between a mad max movie and a bad zombie movie, and we were the no-name actors that don't make it very far in the film.


  

This border was like nothing I’ve seen before.  Just desolation and trash everywhere.  I mean I’ve never seen so much trash.  Just sticking to the thorn bushes as far as I could see.







We pulled up to a poorly spliced rope spanning between two sticks just short of a small bridge.  The border.  A young kid walks up to me and stares.  He has a shawl over his head and a scar around his neck that looks like someone chopped his head off and sewed it back on.  No exaggeration. It spanned his entire neck.  We crossed easily.  Everyone was friendly and intrigued.  The custom guys told us we had to stay the night in the little village to avoid any night driving on the way to the “city” of Hergesa.

This is Somaliland, a northern state in Somalia that’s trying very hard to succeed from the country and be independent and somewhat stable (That’s as of March 2012).  Islamic Sharia law keeps most bandits and thieves at bay.  Losing a hand would keep most people pious.  So we found a place to crash among the tin sheds and deplorable dirt roads.

Later on that evening we hear the familiar rumble of the Land Cruiser the Czech guys are driving crossing the border.  We all meet up.  Put down some camel milk pretending it’s beer and prep for the journey to Hergesa in the morning.  The next 20 kilometers didn’t have a road per say.  It was just a bunch of bush trails interweaving around rocks and thorn bushes.  Pretty fun for a couple of bikes. What a rough and awesome way to blast into the country. Really feeling adventurous now.  After 20k It slowly turned into tarmac, really bad tarmac.  And we made our way to Hergesa.

This place is a dump, what can I say.  But full of cool people very motivated to improve and develop their struggling country.   

Here is the market.

Here is the camel market where they string bloody pieces of camel Jerky. together and hang it...looks clean right. Oh and on a sad note: Camels know when you are going to kill them and they just hang their heads down, tear up and start to cry. Makes you think twice about eating em right.

The money is also ten times more than worthless. So much they just have huge cases full of it unguarded on the street for exchange. That and Sharia law would have your hand cutoff if you touched it. This wad here will buy some camel, and one tank of gas. We obviously learned how to do a lot of counting

Some of the Somali men color their hair and beards with henna, the same stuff you see on the hands of newlywed women. It’s a plant that is dried, ground, made into a paste, and applied to either the skin or the hair.  One Muslim man in Kenya said it was because Mohammad had red hair.....I think it's just a cultural thing.  And a cool one.  Punk rock will never die.  

We didn’t stay here long, but the local newspaper came over to our hotel and did a piece on us.  And it ended up on the front page the next day.  So whenever cops pulled us over asking for our papers I just pulled the Somali Times (Or whatever it was), flashed it at him and was like “Oh, you mean this paper?  Walk away little man.”  We got the cops in Hergesa to give us a permission slip to drive on to the coastal town of Berbera without an escort.  More rough terrain and jacked roads.  One really odd moment as we were cruising, we came around a bend and some guy was holding a pick-axe walking down the center of the road; back turned to us.  When he heard our bikes instead of turning to look and then jumping off the road… he just started running.  Straight down the center of the road.  “Move dude!”  Then he started swerving left and right as if to shake us.  “Dude just get off the road!”.  He finally jumps off the road.  Some weird things going on out there.  Then ensued the question, what if you accidentally ran him over and killed him?  Very difficult question.  What would you do?  Remember you're in Somalia!!!

Here are some roadside pics that we got away with taking, but with all the checkpoints it can be tough getting away with taking pics.

Some of the nicer roads we encountered

The condo scene here is really going up in property value. I think we should invest. Jokes aside these people are very poor and have been through a lot of war and, until our issues on the coast, every person we encountered went out of their way to be hospitable and show that this part of the country is trying to do better.

And the coast.

We pull into this crazy little coast town, and it is just crazy.  Off in the bay two rusted out half-sunk ships are just chilling, making for quite the scenic backdrop.  There’s a mural in town with a jet on top of it and paintings of people roaming around with limbs and body parts blown off and bleeding out on the ground as a reminder of the Soviet attack on Berberaa.  Some weird things going on out there.  But it was a cool town and the fish was excellent.  We did start to notice strange vibes from the people though, and slowly we both started mentioning the idea of just jumping on the bikes and bailing before anyone noticed.  

The Czechs were thinking about heading up north via the super-sandy roads to Djibouti and we were entertaining the idea, but sand is bad news for the bikes.  At the hotel that night we were approached by four different police men. Some plain-clothes cops us asking for passports.  I told em I was friends with the mayor and that we didn’t have time for all that.  Worked well.  Nice.  Then another cop came.  Little more serious.  The mayor line didn’t work on him so I showed him the passport and he said thanked me and took off.  Another cop came and told us we needed to come by the station.  Rien let him know we were on vacation and we’d head in tomorrow morning.  

Early the next morning the hotel guy was like “You’ve got to get to the station.  They’re really pushing it.” He called them and told them we were packing up. Things felt very weird and I got the strange feeling things were not right...at all. So we just geared up the bikes headed down the street towards the police station, to get the hotel guy off our back, made our first right and sped out of town back towards Hergesa.  The Czechs ditched town heading north to Djibouti.  The cops caught em a couple hours away in the
middle of the desert and threw them in jail…the whole time asking them over and over again where are the Americans.  Haha, the Americans were chilling at the border by that time.  It wasn’t a huge deal.  They just let them out after a day, and we caught back up with them in Ethiopia. I'll never have proof, but I do feel this was one of the hairiest situations we 've encountered. I guess it's best never to know.

We crossed back over the dirt-road border that day, around the time the Czech guys got pulled in and they called the border looking for us.  Later suckers!!!!
The same kid with the same scar was there waiting for us.  I could tell now that he was wearing the veil to hide his scar.

One more run through the bandit road and back into safety.

We cruised back through the stony Ethiopian countryside and back down to the Ethiopian bridge.  Saw the same troops there.  Gave high fives and told em about Somalia.  Then when we’re like “Ok well it’s time for us to cross.”  They’re like “Bikes can’t cross the bridge.”  “Guys, we just crossed it five days ago.”  “No you couldn’t have.  That’s against the rules.”  “What are you guys mental?  You saw us!”  Rien sees the same soldier who was on his bike when he crossed and tells him “YOU WERE ON THE BACK OF MY BIKE YOU LIAR!”.  We had to spend another hour fighting with them and then they finally let us ride across.  We pulled back into Addis, did some bike work getting prepped for the north Kenya road and started moving south.

I really liked the Ethiopian countryside.  Most of it, apart from the East, is up in the cool, wooded mountains.  You can stop in little towns and get someone to grab you some coffee beans, roast em, pulverize em and brew up for the best cup of coffee ever right there in front of you .

We'll cover South Ethiopia and Kenya in the next round. Hope you all enjoyed the ride, we sure did!!!!