I take a few moments to think about my life. Being close to death has that effect. I think about all the things I do or persevere just to please people. I think about the things that bring me misery. I take stock of people whom its evident really care about me, and those whom it’s clear don’t give a shit about me. Those who have supported my dreams and ambitions, and those who couldn’t care less. The line between things that matter and those that don’t appears clearer.

After the short rest, we mount our bikes and ride back to Kakuma.

We arrive at the town just after dusk. My headlight is bouncing all over the place, reminding me that my rear suspension is even a bit more dead. We go back to Tarach Guest House and spend the night there. The only mission ahead now is to get back home.

Or so we think…

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PART 3: Day 4 | Painful, Unplanned for Nonsense

Some months back I visited Eliye springs, along the Western shore of Lake Turkana. It was at dusk, but I remembered it to be a very beautiful place. I went there with friends using a Land Rover. I remember it being really sandy, and I remember never wanting to tackle it on my heavy bike. Especially not this time with the luggage I have, and with a suspension that is causing the bike to behave like a Pogo Stick. I did mention the beauty of Eliye to my friends, and this is how we made a plan to get to Lodwar, then hire a vehicle to take us there, and rest and camp at the shore for the rest of the afternoon and night. That is the plan as we leave Kakuma.

The ride to Lodwar is quick and spirited. We move a bit faster because we already know what the road is like. Only one small section with black alluvial gravel gives us some trouble.

Once at Lodwar, we ask around about the options of getting to Lake Turkana. Suddenly our plan changes. The new plan is to ride the road to Kalokol. I don’t like this plan at all, because I’m pretty sure we will get sand, and I’m not ready to deal with sand. My bike may be an adventure bike, but it sits on the heavier side, my suspension is shot, I do not have tyres to deal with sand, and Neither do I have the skills to ride such a bike in sand. I have done very little sand riding with it in the past. I’m also fearful because I have put hard panniers on it as opposed to soft luggage. Hard panniers get dangerous in case of a fall, and can clip one’s legs.

This is where it comes down to your choice of ride partners. Can they empathise with your situation, put themselves in your shoes, and compromise to accommodate you?

Well, after lunch, instead of a restful afternoon as initially planned, we are on the road to Kalokol. Some residents have sworn that it’s a “highway” up to the lake. I don’t buy it. What they call “highway” is not as we know it, and this becomes evident as we find ourselves on one of the roughest roads ever. Only Timam is having fun. He has very little luggage, his bike is light, a 2018 model with modern suspension that is functioning flawlessly in this terrain. Mine with 25 year old fork technology and a shot rear shock is not doing so well. I can hear him loudly laughing at me as we ride along. That’s not a figure of speech. At one point he is ahead, and he stops after a deep patch of sand, gets off his bike and stands with one leg on another in a dramatic pose. He waits for me to hit the patch of sand, for my bike to wiggle, so he can burst out in laughter. All of that happens.

We get to Kalokol and ride slowly through the town towards the lake.

Timam gets a puncture which is quickly sorted by a local mechanic, thanks to his tyres being tubeless.

We ride down to the beach and are met by a sorry stinky sight. This is definitely no place to camp. It’s smelly and wet, there’s no sand, and not even trees to shade under. It’s such a pathetic anticlimax, and it’s clear that we won’t be staying here at all! I tell them that Eliye is nothing like this. Eliye is a beautiful beach.

I want to ride back the rough road to Lodwar and call it a day. But as the title of this section of the story says, this was a day for painful, unplanned for nonsense. And that is how I get convinced to take the road from Kalokol to Eliye. Again, the locals swear that it’s a very good road, a “highway.” Again, I don’t buy any bit of it. This road starts off well, until we meet a very stony section.

We think that’s the last of our problems, until we start hitting patches of deep sand. Tintin and I take a couple of spills. Timam is doing well, his bike is light and easy to recover even when it loses the front. His unfathomable energy comes in handy as he helps me pick up my bike a couple of times. About twice, I get stuck on steep sandy up hills. My bike’s engine has the power, but the 50-50 rear tyre is useless, it can’t propel the bike forward. The bouncy suspension is not helping either. As the rear bounces upwards, the front digs into sand. Again, Timam helps get me unstuck. I’m glad he is here, and I’m glad he is the sort of good hearted fellow, always willing to help out.

Some local bikers pass us, and tell us that the trick to sand is going fast. They don’t just tell us, they show us, floating over the sand like sand fu warriors. Tina takes their advice well. When we are ready to leave, she goes first. And fast! In a few seconds she wiggles around and disappears under a cloud of chaotic dust.