There are two KWS officers at the gate listening in on our conversation. One of them weighs in: “No you shouldn’t leave each other,” he says, smiling, as if apologising for butting in. I get him. He is a soldier. I bet soldiers understand the phrase “Leave no man behind” more than most. But there’s no way I’m riding another kilometer today. Timam and I bid each other farewell again, again, and he shoots off.
The officers manning the gate are really friendly and accomodating. They invite me into a side office with some chairs in it. One offers me cold water from their natural “fridge.” It’s a 5 litre jerrycan with drinking water, wrapped with wet cloth, and hung up in the wind. You gotta love physics, ey?
We have a really short chat, and they leave me alone to rest. I bring out my inflatable mattress, set it up on the floor and promptly fall asleep there.
I’m woken up by by noises of people talking and a Landcruiser grinding to a halt outside. It’s shift change. The two officers I found leave (I did not even get their names) and are replaced by two others, James and Julius.
I ask them if they have any sugar. On such trips, I usually carry a small bottle of honey, but this time I forgot. I’m craving sugar so much, I could lick it right out of a tin. I ask them if I can make a small fire somewhere and cook a little food for myself. I have in my bags some noodles and canned tuna. They tell me there’s a kitchen I can use. I rummage through my bags for my food and, to my surprise, find that I carried two tins of canned pineapple rings! I do have some sugar! I decide to save them till later, after I have had an actual meal.
I go to the kitchen, carrying my noodles and some bread and pancakes. James is there. He has made me a cup of coffee. Soldiers do understand things, ey? He must know what it is like to crave sugar. I thank him profusely as I take a sip. It’s sweet! I gulp it down like a hopeless addict.
James tells me I can get a sufuria to warm my food. He tells me not to be afraid to use their stuff. “We are men,” he says. “We have no shame!” Ok, that translates awfully, but in Kiswahili it sounds awesome. “Sisi ni wanaume. Hatunanga aibu!” Alright. Still awful… But when a soldier tells it to you, it’s sounds awesome. Just take my word.
I get a sufuria, empty a can of tuna into it, and warm it over the fire. Soon I have a meal of bread, pancake and tuna. I ask James if they have had dinner. He tells me they had food at the camp before reporting for duty. I’m still sick of fish, but at least the tuna tastes a bit different. Note to self: Next time travelling next to a lakeside, maybe carry canned beans instead.
After dinner, I join the two officers at the room with my mattress. It’s kind of their entertainment room. There are rows of solar batteries on the counter. There are phones charging. A small tv is on. News. We sit and chat as we watch the tv. Julius tells me how difficult it is to go for days without speaking to his family. It is remote out here, with no one, and no settlement for tens of kilometres around. There’s no cellphone reception. The officers have a radio to communicate with the other camps. Whenever a visitor or vehicle enters the park, the information is relayed around over radio. The park also does not get many visitors. Working here is forlorn. He tells me that they get three months leave though.
Julius asks me what my trip is about. I tell him I’m just touring.
“Aren’t you doing some kind of research or survey?” he asks.
“Nope. Just wandering about.”
“Wueh!” He slaps his knee with his hand, and turns his attention to the tv. “Okay!” he says after a while. I tell him that I intend to go north till Illeret. He tells me that I will be fascinated by the Daasanach people’s huts. “They are very interesting!” he says, “You will see!”
I set up the inside part of my tent in the room, to function as a mosquito net. I get in and settle for the night. Later, the officers switch off the tv, and we bid each other goodnight. Julius asks me whether or not he should close the door. I say no, I like the breeze.
“That’s ok,” he says. “There’s nothing here.” I presume he means there are no predators here.
They leave to their sleeping quarters. I take note that I’m the one sleeping nearest to the park gate. As I try to fall asleep, my brain reminds me of a video I saw online. It was an infrared security cam footage of a leopard sneaking up on an unsuspecting dog, and attacking it. I get up and close the door…
DAY 5 | Sibiloi gate to Koobi Fora
Today is the last day of the year. Today I’m going to ride to Koobi Fora, The Cradle of Mankind. The information we got from the other biker legends gone before us suggested a very difficult road, and a lot of sand on the last stretch to Koobi Fora. I’m terrible at riding in sand, and I’m dreading it. Today I’m riding solo, without a riding partner. That means that if I drop the bike, picking it will be more difficult without help. It’s not impossible, I have done it many times before, but it is usually easier with help. But I’m also filled with excitement that today, I ride as slow as I want to, with no one constantly overtly or covertly ramming a clock down my throat. It’s an expedition, not a race to places. I can take as many rests as I want to, stop and take as many photos as I want to, and just do things my way. Today I can have my trip, and I’m looking forward to it.
I also consider the possibility of not being able to finish the stretch by evening due to my slowness. I have a tent, I have enough food to take me through the night, and enough water (I set off with a total of about 5.6 litres), just in case I have to make camp along the road for the night. Solo will be difficult. But slow and steady will do it. The only really difficult thing I can foresee about camping out for the night is purging that leopard footage from my head. I have a hand axe with me, but that is not much comfort.
Some morning photos of the park Karsa Gate camp:
I’m still craving sugar. I pop open one can of pineapple rings. Through the window, I can see James and Julius at the kitchen. I decide to leave them some of my canned tuna tins and Weetabix. I put the stuff in a paper bag, together with my bread and pancakes, and head over to the kitchen.
We greet each other. I tell them that I slept well. They tell me that they received information that my colleague arrived at Koobi Fora well. I already know that, actually. The radio receiver is in the room next to where I slept, and I could hear the cackling of incoming transmissions. They have already made tea, which they offer me, together with army biscuits. I offer them pancakes, and two tins of canned tuna. (Did I tell you how sick of fish I am?)
There’s an abundance of birds around. There’s doves that have made nests under the roof awnings. I ask the soldiers if this place usually has so many birds even during dry seasons. They tell me not so much, but they are still usually around. The place has a water tank (birds will always find a leak from which to quench their thirst) and the kitchen always has some food scraps.
“During the really hard times we sometimes feed them,” Julius tell me. “It’s so green and different now. Some months ago it was all barren and dry. You could not see a single green thing.”
I finish my breakfast and clean my utensils, during which time I’m occasionally reminded that we are men, we have no shame. I then pack up my bike, and prepare to leave. I go to the office with Julius and pay the park entrance and camping fees. I’m ready to enter the park. James raises the barrier for me, and wishes me well on my trip.
One of the attractions of Sibiloi National Park is the Petrified Forest. Petrified comes from the Greek word petro meaning “stone.” (“I shall call you Peter (Petro) because upon this rock I shall build my church” … Remember that?) The Petrified Forest consists of prehistoric terrestrial vegetation that has fossilised into rock.
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