On Roads Less Travelled

Moshi – Tanga [Total distance: 331miles in 8days]

I set off from Moshi on Wednesday the 10th refreshed and relaxed, having spent the previous evening on the roof of the New Kindoroko Hotel (who’s better value sister, the Hotel DaCosta – yes, Ant i have a picture of the sign for you with Kilimanjaro in the background - I had moved into from the Buffalo) having tea whilst watching the peak of Kilimanajaro acquire a golden glow in the sunset. The same morning i drew a small crowd at the market whilst I tried to find a pair of sandals my size; this had been difficult enough to do in Cape Town, but after about 30minutes of people running around to various shops I ended-up with a rather nice pair of nubuck upper ‘Kickers’ made in France at a fairly good price. The cycling was pleasant in slightly overcast conditions, though I was a little disconcerted to see a sign after more than 20km’s saying ‘Same 82km’ because I had misread my maps (embarrassing, I know) and thought I would have an average 80km day. The road was smooth, however, and without too much traffic considering it’s the main route to Dar es Salaam, and after a brief lunch stop for chapattis, beans and a ‘soda baridi’ (cold soda; did I mention that Coke is cheaper than water here if you can’t drink from the taps?) I passed by the Northern Pare Mountains on my left and made my way into the dry and dusty settlement of Same where I stayed at the very basic guesthouse recommended in my guidebook.

At the ‘Parrot Africa Restaurant’, where I was able to get a reasonable supper and breakfast, I managed to find out that to get to Mbaga in the Southern Pare Mountains it was better to carry-on along the main road for an unspecified distance before taking a turn-off to the left. There was no sign, so I missed it, but fortunately asked a local cyclist going the other way with whom I cycled back to the right spot. From there the road became dirt, deteriorating into sand or rocks or both, and I had my first fall – just a minor gash on the elbow and a rather bruised hip. It was tough going to Mwembe, which was just a few dozen houses/huts until I came across the market square which was filled with women in brightly coloured wraps trading their various wares. Whilst I had already gained some altitude it was here that the real climb started. The combination of bad road and steep ascent reduced me to a 5/6mph crawl, and occasionally I was forced to dismount and push. The reaction of children to me was amusing, as they would often scatter off the road (well, to the edge at least) or say ‘Shikamuu’ (meaning ‘I hold your feet’; a term used for elders/superiors) when they saw me but then chase me up the hill as soon as I had passed. Adults on the other hand, mostly women carrying wares, generally greeted me with a "pole ya safari" ('condolences for your journey'!) From the dust and baobabs, with odd drum-like things hanging in them, i ascended into plantations perched on the hillsides surrounded by banana and kumquat trees. It was only a 30mile day, and I was disappointed to see on the topological map at the Tona Hilltop Lodge that I had only climbed 450metres from Same (which is at 847m above sea level) – I had thought it might be closer to a 1000, but it was probably the hardest cycling so far. I felt much better after a 'chips mayai' (essentially a chip omelette) which was all that was available for a hard-earned late lunch. My appetite has become increasingly voracious – which is saying something considering that it was quite voracious to start off with – and I polished off a very large supper and a Safari lager a few hours later looking down over the plains from the balcony of the lodge (which was more expensive than I expected, but there weren’t any alternatives).

From Tona i headed-off to Kihurio, where i had been assured there should be some guesthouses and which involved a descent to Kisiwani on the northern side of the Pare Mountains, followed by a fairly flat route through the villages (i can't really call these places towns) of Gonja and Ndungu. As one might imagine, the 9mile descent was quite rough, crossing small streams and even an improvised bamboo pipe carrying water - which shows how few vehicles use that road. From Kisiwani the road alternated between sand grey and rocky red track, with the former being more treacherous but the latter more uncomfortable. I only fell a few times, on occasions when i failed to stay on the fine 10cm line between rocky centre of the road and the sandy sides. The last one before Kihurio took two of the panniers off the bike and two local cyclists kindly stopped to help while i reattached them. As it happened, there was only one guesthouse that i found in Kihurio charging about 2000shilings/night (less than $2). A local cyclist there was amazed to hear that i had cycled to Manka and said "Man, that is tough job. Not even i would do that".

"Yeah," i thought, "street cred at last".

Finding food was difficult and i ended-up eating pieces of somewhat stale fried bread and a bowl of beans. I also made the mistake of asking for chai ya maziwa and i swear that they actually sent someone to go and milk the cow and boil the milk before it was delivered in a thermos by bicycle 2hours later in time for supper. After refusing the offer of the services of the laundry lady/sex worker for the night ("Why," said the man "are you tired?", as if there would be no other reason) i shut myself in my room and made an early exit the next day.

I had hoped to carry-on into the Usamabara without returning to the main road but a lack of local information made this impossible so i made my way to Mkomazi, much of it with another young cyclist seemingly going to fetch water, on a very bad track - pushing the bike for the last mile - until i got to the beautifully smooth 'lami' (tar) where i rewarded myself with a chai and a couple of donuts and stocked-up on some water [yes, note the contrast here with the local's predicament]. From there the cycling to Mombo was excellent, with the Usamabara Mountains on my left flank running off to the coast in the distance. In Mombo i had a large chicken lunch to compensate for any substantial food in the previous 36hours and then started the climb to Soni, which is actually in the Usamabara. Surprisingly the large lunch didn't cause any problems, and the recently tarred road was so good i relished the ascent during which i got many thumbs-up from the few matatus, tourist vehicles and coaches that did pass by. The great views into the valley and onto the lower slopes were even better for having got up there under my own steam (at one point i was actually steaming as i got hotter and the air cooler). The Soni Falls Hotel where i had hoped to camp had become a dump and the woman at the new Soni Falls Resort laughed in my face when i asked if i could pitch a tent, so i settled for Mawezi Farm 2km's further on a dirt track diversion.

Although they charged $10/night just to camp, it was worth it for the location next to a small man-made lake, below steep cliffs, surrounded by light forest and (most importantly) the included breakfast with fresh juice and home-baked bread. It was here that i first filled in the 'Tribe' column that all Tanzanian guestbooks seem to have. My tribe: "Cyclist".

Deciding that i needed a rest day, i continued onto the slightly larger town of Lushoto, only 12miles down the road and not too much of an ascent. There i enjoyed walking about town (which takes about 30minutes), buying some fruit and veg at the market and getting a little information at the local tourist office(open on a Sunday afternoon!) from a guy who runs cycle tours in the area. He was able to tell me that the road to Mlalo was good dirt, but knew nothing much about what to expect from there [in fact, i'm supposed to send him an email about what i found out]. At the very reasonably priced Kilimani Hotel i took the opportunity of some fairly clement weather to do some laundering (of clothing, not money) and change the tyre on my rear wheel to the more rugged spare in anticipation of the bad roads and thorns to come. Thereafter i rewarded myself with a cheap large meal and a Serengeti Lager. [For those interested in beer, i have now had Tusker, Safari, Serengeti, Pilsener and Ndovu - not many of either, but a good variety so far].

After a breakfast of peanut butter sandwiches and oranges i left, with a large stick of 'muwa' (sugar cane) that i had acquired the previous day strapped to my rear rack; this is what the young (you need good teeth) local cyclists chew on for energy on their rides, hacking of the outside with their machetes. The ascent out of Lushoto was quite tough, although the (now dirt) road was good and i was cheered-on for a little while by a bakkie overloaded with tourists on their way to start a hike (ha!) that was struggling almost as much as me. As often happens, a local cyclist took exception to my passing him on the climb with a heavier load than his and pushed past me until i stopped for a drink of water, soon after which he got off his bike and pushed it the rest of the way up so that in the end we reached the top at the same time. I was really putting off a lot of steam because it had got quite chilly, so i followed his example and put on my windbreaker which i ended up keeping on all the way to Mlalo. Aside from a few stops on the descent to take a better look at the view (it wasn't that good a dirt road), i also stopped in the small village of Malindi (a different one to the large town in Kenya) for a much-needed chai and andazi before a short climb and then another long descent into Mlalo.

As with so many such settlements the hub of the place is the bus terminal (read: 'large dirt are where buses park and load and offload passengers and goods'), and nearby i found the Afilex Motel with the usual very basic facilities but alsowith a very helpful manageress who provided me with hot water for washing, drinking water, a machete for my sugar cane (which she ended-up wielding because i didn't know how) and got two other locals who i was able to consult about my route. In that regard there was still a lot of uncertainty, and for the first time on the trip i actually felt lonely - in part also because i had dreamt of going to Pick 'n Pay and buying peanut butter, bread and apples only to wake-up to the reality of having only managed to find bone soup and stale chapatis for supper,and resorting to chapatis with peanut butter (not too bad it must be said) for breakfast.

The climb outof Mlalo was not as bad as i expected, and the beginning of the descent was good enough that i was almost tempted to think that the warnings had been wrong. Of course they weren't, and the 13mile descent took almost two hours with the brakes being held down hard the whole way down. At the worst point of the road where i was forced to walk a short way, a man came running down the hill with a machete. This gave me rather a fright and when he didn't seem to respond to my greeting i set-off down the trail at a reckless pace, not daring to look back and see if he was following. Now, although most of the locals working the shambas carry machetes my suspicions were further aroused when the route expert of the previous day appeared behind me at the very bottom of the road in Mngaro in his CIA-agent mirror sunglasses with his lip trembling for no apparent reaon (except perhaps a very rapid descent in my wake). But perhaps i'm thinking too much like a South African...

The area around Mngaro was very pleasant, with smooth roads and lush fields in which i got excellent photos of a Long-Crested Eagle; and the Masaai boys on their bikes were as interested in me as i was in the bird. The smooth road didn't last - it never does,does it - and soon i was back into sand and thorntrees punctuated by the occasional tiny settlement (though the route was so little travelled that no produce was available for about 30miles). On the way i stopped a roadside bicyle repair hut - every village has at least one - where an oldman who spoke very good English told me that i was better off heading to Kibaoni rather than Mkwajuni (called Mkujani on all my maps) were i had intended to go because there was a guesthouse in the former but none in the latter. This turned out to be sound advice, and i reached Kibaoni a few kilometres after Mtoni Bombo where i unsuccesfully tried to get some food (thoughi'm surei could have if i'd really wanted to). I won't go into further detail about more efforts to get food,but suffice to say that the place was better provisioned than Kihurio; though at 1000shillings/night it was the lowest i have got on my 'Guesthouse Index of Smallness'. Small-scale mining seems to be a popular concern in that area and i met a number of men who said they were their visiting their mines. Whether it's legal or not i don't know;is suspect some is and some isn't.

I had been told that from Kibaoni there would be lotsofvillages on the way to Tanga and that all i had to do was follow the road 'moja kwa moja' (literally 'one by one', but it means 'straight') about 70km's to Tanga. This i did,and with a shortcut recommended to me by a passing driver got to Tanga after 46miles (and the tar road a few kilometres before that), most of which was on red clay roads that were mostly rock hard but occasionally - there had been some heavy rain - turned into mudpits. The scenery was much more lush as i approached the coast, with fruit literally falling off trees next to the road. Approaching Tanga i passed dozens of cyclists going in both directions who were generally very interested and encouraging.

That was yesterday. Today i spent relaxing in Tanga - staying at the highly recommended and very good value Ocean Breeze Inn with a view of the harbour from my room - and doing a few things before i head-off down the gravel coast road through Pangani and the Saadani Game Reserve (where there are reported to be lions) to Bagamoyo and Dar es Salaam, which i expect to reach in about a week.

Tanga is i think my favourite town so far, with the relaxed Swahili coastal town atmosphere of Lamu and Mombasa but with the wide-open streets and spaces of Moshi (perhaps due to the German architectural influence here, i'm not sure) and very friendly people.

So far i have not had any punctures,but that can't last and from what i've heard this next stretch is very likely to be the one that starts that particular count. I just hope the lions haven't figured-out how to push over thorntrees...