A Darling day

Wednesday 26th February

Today Ken didn't make breakfast again and nor did Dires but I didn't make yesterday's error and had Ken's egg with mine. (Should've had Dires' aswell)

After a quick goodbye to the lads, i was back on the streets. Leaving Dar es Salaam was pretty straight forward, get on the big road, turn right onto another big road, and stay on that road for what will be the next 8 days. (And people question why I haven't got a GPS!) I have to say I was expecting the traffic to be as a mad as a box of frogs but in reality it was more like a sleeping toad!

This made my decision to visit Dar even more justified! I must have built a high tolerance for nutty traffic as compared to other places, Dar was quiet, clean and relaxing. There was a bit of dust due to the roadworks but the road that was being built was huge! It was taking up a good 7 lanes and for some reason there was only traffic on one of the lanes. The other 6 lanes were 80% finished but cars couldn't use them so I ended up riding out of Dar completely alone as the buses and cars slowly beeped their way alongside me.

I wasn't completely sure what the rules were as there were motorcycles all over the place aswell and the odd pickup driving the wrong way down what seemed a one way street but there was so much extra space, nothing really caused a problem.

I experienced one section of poor road that lasted about 20 minutes but it was masked by the delightful nostalgic smell of Calpol. I took quite a bit of time trying to work out where the smell was coming from, I ended up not really noticing the lack of tarmac.

I stopped for some roadside food about 4 hours in. There are alot of chip venders in Tanzania that are very good. The meat is a bit out of my price range and the chicken generally  turns to dust in your hands anyway so I just had chips with some bright toxic and watered down ketchup.

I arrived in Chalinze in good time. I was expecting a little bit more but not much. It was a one horse town and what on first impressions looked like a one motel town. I stopped to take a picture of the Tanzanian flag to add to my ride's collection and was immediately greeted by a Bill Cosby lookalike. When I stop and I'm immediately greeted nicely I normally take that as a good sign and continue the conversation. I asked "Bill" where I could find a hotel that was in my price range. In true Tanzanian fashion he mustn't of been doing anything worthwhile as he offered to walk me to a place. I asked for a "good" place, in the past I've experienced the bedbug ridden, fowl toilet smelling  hard way of people's different perceptions of "good." I understand that they normally try and help out their mate and so they walk you an African mile to their mate's basement cell of a room that comes free with no electricity and a cigarette smoking cockroach sat on the standard single chair in the corner. What the locals don't understand is that I've just cycled 100km, the last thing I want to do is to be slowly walked through the sandy back roads when I can see perfectly decent hotels on the main road and just want them to give me the name of a good one!

Needless to say, I followed Bill for a good 10minutes and he pointed to a shed that didn't even have a sign and said, "is this good?" "No" I said, "this is not good" I thanked him anyway and walked back onto the main road and headed for where I sensed was good. I lost Bill momentarily and asked a policeman if he knew a place. Just where I was standing there was a tiny little guest house down an alley. It didn't even have a door, just a curtain, but behind that curtain lurked 6 tiny little rooms that had everything you needed. It was a gem of a place, really clean, nice double bed, decent shower and a TV! I was chuffed to bits. Bill turned up just as I set foot in the door as if to say, "Here! Found one!" I thanked Bill again and continued into my room. (And locked the door behind me)

It's always a nice feeling when you find a place at the end of the day because its like having immunity from voting in the Big Brother house. I've guaranteed myself another day on the gameshow "A ride for their lives" It's even better when you find a nice little cottage room that has a shop right next door to provide you with evening and following morning bottles of water.

After a decent shower and a lie down I then waited till my favourite time of the day to venture out and find a good place to eat. Just after 5 (around dusk) the sun's lost its intensity but its still bright enough to go for a walk, find a restaurant and not fear the darkness by the time you've finished eating. I was actually longing for rice and beans and not too far from my cottage I made a friend in a guy called Robert that was tucking into the exact meal that I wanted. "I'll have that please, exactly that, at exactly the same price he paid for it" my Swahili is really coming on! Robert owned the roadside stop and it was his sister that cooked me up a lovely bowl of rice, beans, cabbage and chicken soup. I sat with Robert and asked him to teach me some Swahili. On my way out of my cottage I impressed the shopkeeper with my knowledge of 1-10. I wanted a sentence to impress him further on my way back to the room. Robert taught me "see you later, see you tomorrow and brother, mother, father and sister" I had to stop him after that but I would use, "I'll see you tomorrow" on the shopkeeper which i was sure would blow his sandals off!

I thanked Robert and pre booked my breakfast of exactly the same meal for around 8:30 tomorrow. During the 20 metre walk between the road stop to the shop I experienced an almighty mind blank. Not only that, but the shopkeeper had changed and so this random stranger looked at me with complete confusion as I walked into his shop, froze with a brain fart as he asked me if he could help, I then asked him "how do I say, see you tomorrow in Swahili?" I then repeated what he said and walked out! I didn't even buy anything! He must've thought I had escaped the nutty house!

I felt a right tit but laughed myself back to my room to watch some Tanzanian TV and put close on what really was a delightful day. The cycling conditions were a huge pleasant surprise and I ended with a great local chat, local food and a nice room to stay in. Can't ask for anymore than that when your alone in Africa!

Sew much for sightseeing!

Tuesday 25th February

I woke up for the provided breakfast of two slices of bread and a boiled egg. Ken was still in bed and wasn't going to make breakfast so I was tempted to have his breakfast aswell but decided not to. 

I had a few life maintenance jobs to do today, mainly sewing. I cracked open my sewing kit that I bought from the pound shop back home. Here's a good game and royal waste of time, try threading a needle that doesn't have an eye. I spent a good 15 minutes going through every needle and not one of them had an eye but they had a dent which looked like it was an eye! Cheers! Luckily I was probably in the best place in Dar es Salaam for finding a needle for sewing (not sexist, just fact)

One of the staff kindly gave me her needle and so for the first part of my day I had a very therapeutic session with a needle and thread and a couple of split bags. I enjoy fixing things and it seems like I've done it quite alot this trip. It doesn't matter what material has broken, I've managed to find or build the right tools for the job and the feeling of satisfaction when you've finished fixing whatever has broken is a feeling I think everyone should experience regularly, especially teenagers.

I'm not saying we should send all our teenagers on a bike ride through Africa (although that could work out pretty well) but I think they should all take maintenance classes where they can find out how different appliances work and can fix an array of different things. 

After my sewing session I "fixed" my broken water bottle with duct tape and did absolutely nothing for the rest of the day. Yesterday I had promised my mate James that I would get a drink at his bar but it was just so hot, I melted into my bed and stayed there for a while. 

Doing nothing made me very hungry (should've had ken's egg) but I resisted "boredom eating" as I need to try and get back to a decent diet. Ken's comment yesterday of, "most cyclist's I meet are old and ripped but you're quite chunky" has struck a chord that I need to cut out the chocolate biscuits because when my ride stops, Maryland's machines aren't going to do likewise, they're still going to continue creating heavenly cookies and so my abs will turn to flabs in no time at all!

I thought about taking a few photos of the city but that's as far as I got. There isn't that much to see in Dar and I didn't fancy ending up with a Nairobi incident and meeting Dar es Salaam's chief of police.

When Ken returned from wherever he went, I picked him up on last night's idea to check out the tallest rooftop bar during happy hour. As we were leaving, a new person came into our room. The Japanese had already left and so we had a Dutch guy called Dires (D-Reece) move in. He joined us for the rest of the day and so the three of us checked out Dar es Salaam's very fancy revolving restaurant that overlooked the whole city to almost 360 degrees.

The glass doors that led to the balcony proved quite a tricky obstacle for Dires as he walked into the door so hard, he actually split his nose. Obviously myself and Ken were very sympathetic towards Dires but i cant say the same for the 20 Swedish students that saw him leave a perfect print of his face on the crystal clear glass.

We saw the sunset and then made an exit pretty sharpish as happy hour finished. We sat on the street and had some beef, rice and beans and felt very Tanzanian. Previously in big city's I've avoided being alone on the streets at night time but with three of us it was nice to experience a little bit of night time atmosphere. After 11 I've heard that the street kids by day turn into thief's at night so it was handy that our watering hole was right next to the YWCA.

We finished the night with a couple back in the Holiday Inn bar. If I were to live in Dar then that would most definately be my local, not because its fairly well priced and close enough to the YWCA not get lynch on my walk home but because it provides free nuts and they're good aswell!

To go, or not to go, Dar is the question.

Monday 24th February

I woke up looking and feeling like a sweaty newt. It was so hot last night I had to strip down to nothing which prompted a mad rush to find my shorts when I woke up as a small section of my tent is see through and the old people were already up and about and walking past my tent at half 6 in the morning. They probably weren't expecting to see a naked castaway on their morning walk along the beach!

As I packed away many people stopped to have a chat. One man from Finland even took a picture and all their reactions were very supportive and congratulatory. I spoke to a man named Frank that had been living on site for 20 years. He had planted all the trees and i was sure he was involved in the management of the place. He helped me a lot with road advice and questioned why I was going to Dar es Salaam. He made a very good argument about how terrible the traffic and road was getting out of Dar, and the days that I would save going there could be better spent in nice towns such as Cape Town (if I go there) He made a very good point and he really put me in a tricky situation with a tough decision to make. I had my heart set on a rest day but if I skipped Dar then I could have a bit more comfort in my extremely tight schedule. What should I do? I was still very much 50/50 so I thought I would take a small ride along the coast to find some breakfast and mull it over.

I said my goodbyes and followed the beach towards the city centre where I found a nice looking cafe and would have to make the decision to either continue the coast around to Dar, or go back on the diverted road I was on yesterday and head inland to Chalinze.

I sat with my 2 doughnuts and 2 chapattis but without Nigel. Despite there being absolutely nobody in the huge cafe, Nigel had to stay outside like a naughty dog. I sat by the window to keep an eye on him and ensure him that it wasn't his fault he was outside, it was the mean cafe owner's.

I sat there weighing up the pros and cons of visiting Dar. I needed to get money and there was an ATM there but not where I would be heading the other way. On the other hand I could shave days off and stay on safer roads if I missed out Dar. Would I regret not visiting it though just because one person says its terrible...the debate went on. Then a man from America arrived at my table (gutted that I've forgotten his name) "hey, i spotted the bike outside and I couldn't pass up the chance to meet a cycle tourer" he said. He was a very nice guy and was researching malaria till June and living in Bagajomo but visits Dar at the weekend. "I like Dar, its not all bad" he said. That pretty much helped sway me, since when have I let one man's opinion change my plans of adventure?! I needed to experience Dar for myself and if the road coming out sucks then it sucks and I will just have to deal with it carefully. How bad can it honestly be? I've cycled Istanbul, Cairo and the whole of Kenya, honestly, there's not many more shocking traffic situations left to experience!

The guy from America was really great, he tried to think of everything that I needed to know, helped with some places to stay further down Tanzania and even offered to pay for my breakfast. I had to get on as time was ticking so he even cycled with me to the main road and pointed me in the right direction. A real gem of a bloke and I was happy that my path was finalised and a 70km day awaited to get to Dar.

The road to Dar was good. I had a nice cycle section and I found myself pleasantly singing away as I coasted on a long awaited smooth tarmacked road. As I neared Dar I reached a crest of a hill that overlooked the high ride buildings of Dar and the island of Zanzibar and the other few islands just of the mainland. I was very happy with my decision. I don't mind big city's, I enjoy my "Bueller" rest days and as I cycled even closer to the city centre, compared to other big city's, Dar was a dream to cycle through!  

I wouldn't say Dar es Salaam is a beautiful place. The dock really knocks it down in the Aesthetics department but it has some interesting looking buildings and its not exactly riddled with rubbish like other African city's. I stayed on the same road for the whole day as it led me right into the city centre. I spotted a fancy looking Holiday Inn on the corner and my eyes lit up. Jackpot! You know what you get with a Holiday inn, normally clean and cheap and worth a looksy so I parked Nigel up and enquired on the price for the night. $150 a night! "Sorry have I arrived back in London?" I said. "I'm looking for more $10 a night" As I turned to exit, I spotted a YMCA over the road, that'll do, I thought. At the YMCA a single room was around $15 a night but the receptionist said if I was looking for even cheaper then the YWCA has dorms for around £4 a night. 

Now when you tell a man that he can stay in a dormitory in a YWCA for £4 a night a few images run through his mind. The sort of images that make my decision to visit Dar, the best decision to date. Needless to say, when I arrived at the YWCA, the sight of around 20 African men sat in the cafeteria eating fried chicken dashed my dreams of what could've been!

Erica on reception put me in a four person room with 2 Japanese guys and a guy called Ken from Glasgow, thanks Erica! 

I went for a walk to get some Kenyan shillings changed to Tanzanian and within two minutes of leaving the YWCA, I had picked up a Tanzanian friend. His name was James and I h e no clue what he wanted from me but he followed me around and I so I used him to answer a few questions that I had about the place. I got some money changed then went for a walk along the coast...with James. He had a newspaper stall and a bar on the beach that I think he wanted me to visit but I was happy to do a quick loop and get back to the room. Dar hasn't really got much to it and I struggled to find decent looking places with nice views to chill out in so the walk didn't last long.

When i got back to the room, I didn't see much of the Japanese guys but myself and Ken hit it off immediately. He's been living in Dar for a while and so took me to his regular drinking hole which turned out to be a bar in the Holiday Inn. We had a really good night and the rooftop bar was a good way to see the place at night.

At the end of the day, I was pleased with my decision and even if the road is a nightmare on Wednesday, I was happy to be in Dar and would make the most of my rest day tomorrow.

"Keep out of the long grass!"

Sunday 23rd February

It was quite windy on the beach when I went to sleep last night but I woke up to the sound of calm shores. I was up nice and early as the sun wasn't messing around today so I got packed up and headed off into the next village to find something to eat. Thankfully the next village wasn't far and I arrived at a dark local hang out that was absolutely infested with flies. 

It was the only place cooking food and my body needed feeding so I just had to ignore the flies and scoff the two doughnuts and two chapattis down and be on my way. Little did I know then, that that was not going to be the last time i experienced an annoying fly situation.

I was kindly walked back onto the main road that would take me all the way to my proposed destination of Bagamojo. The road started well and it didn't seem hotter than yesterday, any hotter than yesterday and the trees would've spontaneously combusted! I was pleasantly surprised with the road, I could find a decent smooth path, it took some weaving but I could maintain momentum so the first hour or so was pretty productive.

Then things changed. Despite my very vague map telling me that the road I was on should be in better condition than the roads yesterday, I found myself with the most unforgiving of trails. Compared to yesterday the good was better but the bad was much much worse and in some areas it was quicker and safer to get off and push. This really took it out of me. In situations like this, time drags along with your legs and you're teetering on the edge of doing something you'll regret, like chucking your shoe into the sea. You won't know why you did it, you'll just chuck it and then you'll be left in an even worse mood than one started and with one dusty sock.

I kept strong and both shoes remained on my feet but this was certainly a huge test for myself and Nigel. Africa seems to be taking its tole and breaking more and more things. I've now managed to break both original water bottle holders, how does that happen? They're just sat there holding a bottle, they shouldn't break! More worryingly was my handlebar bag that not only had a broken clip from my collarbone crash, so I was keeping it attached to my handlebars with string, but the zip had also come completely unstitched. The sewing kit would have to be coming out for that and also for my bag that kept my stove in that had split. The string holding my handlebar bag then later snapped so that had to be fixed aswell.

I found myself cycling through an area that I would associate with typical Africa. Cool trees, mud track, long grass, I started to think to myself that this was like a real National Park and there could be some animals banging around. I lifted my head higher and focused my eyes on the distance. I was right! I saw gazelle, water bucks some other big deer-like things and then a family of warthogs came popping out of the bush in front of me. Flippin' heck! I thought, I could be in Lion territory here! It turns out I was very much in Lion territory and there were also Elephants and Rhinos in that park. I had the Jurassic park quote of "stay out of the long grass" stuck in my head all day but at least it took my mind off of how painfully slow and bumpy the road was.

I was later told as its rainy season, the nature is a lot more overgrown and therefore its harder to spot the animals but they were definately there and thankfully weren't keen on eating a hairy toothpick. After the park the road got even worse, along with my mood and to make things even more annoying, the flies made a very VERY unwelcome return. I don't know if it's Beirdre attracting them or if they just enjoy being the most annoying living species on the planet (just ahead of Jedward) but for a good hour I had between 1 and 5 flies constantly on my face at any one time. They just would not leave! I couldn't cycle fast enough to get rid of them and they almost caused multiple accidents. During this horrible phase of the day I could've been mistaken for having Tourette's and its fair to say I really was not enjoying myself.

The road seemed to be never ending, I would get to one crest or corner and there would be another 300m and i'd think, ok just get to that corner and see what's there. I've lost count how many times this happened. Asking distances was pointless and so was getting annoyed. It was so so hard. The Italian family drove past me and kindly gave me a bottle of water. They were heading to the same campsite as I had intended and I took their distance estimation a bit more seriously than the local's. 15km, ok, come on Harding you can do this. It will all be worth it when you get there.

After 10km I eventually got back onto tarmac. That joy lasted 2 minutes until I hit roadworks and was diverted back onto a dust track. Where is this place?!! The last bit went on forever and poor directions took me pointlessly down shoddy back roads until I eventually found Travellers lodge. It wasn't as good as Vagabond but still very nice, pricey for me but in a lovely location so I coughed up the money to camp.

I was more exhausted than yesterday but with that came a greater satisfaction. Travellers lodge was set just off the beach and surrounded by palm trees. There were alot more people staying in the cabins but I was the only one camping so picked a good spot away from the sprinklers by the pathway that led down to the beach. This prompted a few people to stop and chat which was nice. I had just been in the wilderness for the last two days and it had honestly felt like it!

I treated myself to a burger and then returned back to the oven aka my tent. Two long hard days, around 120miles of off road torture over 14 hours on and off the saddle. Was it worth it? Always. Just having that short experience at Vagabond Lodge opened my eyes to a new place that very few people have ever seen. Natural beauty that isn't easy to find, even in a 4WD! I was pleased with my off-road decision despite its trials, another experience I will never forget.

Beach of a ride

Saturday 22nd February

Another leisurely start today (becoming a habit) involved killing a cockroach and eating an egg sandwich. I had a tricky decision to make today. Should I stay with the tarmacked road that would take me the long way to Dar and be busier with traffic but alot easier for Nigel and I. Or, should I follow the coast down on a "road" that will be slightly shorter in distance, alot tougher on Nigel but more adventurous and alot less discovered.

I think you can probably guess what I did. I convinced myself that this would be the last time I would go off road so I would make the most of these few days and after that I will stick to the main roads that are actually displayed on a map. I knew this decision would probably end up in myself getting annoyed and fed up with bumps, holes, rocks and sand but fingers crossed the coastal scenery would provide me with an unforgettable experience. 

I set off due south as opposed to heading inland and it took just a few minutes before the beautiful American asphalt turned to orange Tanzanian dust. The route to Pangani wasn't too bad but it was enough for me to wince every time I hit a bump. The new rear wheel was certainly getting its first test and what will probably be its hardest by far!

I had imagined a beautiful coastal route along the sea with the wind blowing in my ever growing locks and the sun gently warming my skin as I free rolled downhill to Pangani. Absolutely no chance!!! I curse my vivid imagination sometimes because the reality was, the road wasn't exactly on the coast, it was slightly inland and the thick forest meant I couldn't see the sea. Due to this forest I couldn't feel the coastal breeze either so instead I got intense humidity on an undulating rocky road. The only sense that I briefly got of the coast was the smell, it was fishy. In the space of an hour my dreams of seaside romance were lost in a fish smelling, sweaty ball of dust.

Don't get me wrong, the landscape was still very interesting. Huge plantations lined the coast and sometimes I didn't see anybody for hours so I enjoyed the peace and pure tranquility that has been nonexistent riding through previous countries. This was the outback of Tanzania and I knew (even though I couldn't see it) that the beauty of the beach was just metres away so my task for the day was to do 60miles and find a beachside haven to camp in.

I arrived in Pangani at lunch time where there was a few hundred metres of tarmac. I had some rice and fish and awaited the "pole pole" ferry (slow slow) The main cargo ferry was broken so there were locals running their fishing boats across the river. I knew if I waited for the slow ferry I would end up waiting a few hours, there were loads of boats but apparently not one of them was the slow one so in the end, I just bit the bullet and payed well over what I should've done for a fast boat. 

I knew this was the case when before I could even get Nigel off the other side the man immediately shouted "give me my money!" "Alright, chill out!" I said, I thought Tanzanians were meant to be slow and relaxed. I ended up paying 5000shillings (£2) which the price list on the other side of the river tells me is enough for a tractor and trailer. I didn't care, I was over the river and only had to wait 10minutes. I had intended to find a nice place to rest on the other side of the river but there just didn't seem to be one, so I ended up in true Forrest Gump style, continuing cycling.

The road down the coast is meant to be as the crow flies but I was challenged with lots of equally rocky and sandy "minor roads" with no signposts to help me. As a result of this I ended up taking a route as the crow flies if the crow was drunk and had one wing. I took a wrong turning thanks to some local advice and ended up going back on myself and retaking the route I was already heading in the first place. This provoked a change in emotion that is not uncommon when cycling on tough roads in the middle of nowhere. On days like this I wouldn't say I was bipolar, more like quad or quinpolar. Emotions change with the slight change in atmosphere. Sun goes behind cloud = happy, Nigel hits a run of corrugations = annoyed, see a colourful bird you haven't seen before = enlightened, hit a patch of sand and have to push = fed up, thumbs up from a local = inspired. The list goes on, as I've said before, the hardest task is trying to keep as mentally stable as possible and realising that it will never last forever so either make the most of it or suck it up.

Today was tough and I was heading towards a town called Mkwaja. I had no idea what it was going to be like but it was around the 60mile mark and it was near the coast so I was hoping there would be some sort of seaside resort. I have now accepted that if an English mile is 1.6km, a country mile is probably around 4.8km and an African mile is somewhere between 10 and 40km. I asked a local on a motorbike (most likely to know distances) "How far to Mkwaja?" "3km" he says. Great news! I'm tired, dripping with sweat, my cheeks are starting to burn and my thighs and arse are killing me but I can do 2 miles...

10 miles and over an hour later I arrived in Mkwaja. Absolutely nothing there and not by the sea. I had cycled for just under 7 hours in pursuit of a dream camp site on the beach and all I had was more thick forest. I woke up an old lady that was asleep on a bench outside her shop, "excuse me, camping?" I said in my best Swahili. She nodded, "km?" I said again in perfect Swahili. She told me 1km and pointed down the road. Right, so that's probably another half hour on the bike then I thought. I was spot on, another half an hour and another series of never ending roads later I stumbled across Vagabond Lodge. It was very clean and nice but still in thick forest so I was a little gutted but I really couldn't go any further or care! 

I asked how much a room was. $125 a night! "Yeeeeeaaah, do you do camping?" Thankfully they did and it was only 5 dollars a night. I walked through the reception and restaurant area and behind that building I had found it! My oasis! The whole back garden opened up onto the white sandy beach and there wasn't a person in sight! My long awaited haven, and I could camp anywhere along the beach. Later I met an Italian family that were staying there but other than that it was myself, Beirdre and Nigel, a few staff and the Tanzanian crabs that scurried around on the perfect Beach.

There was only one thing for it, the tent could wait, I was going for a swim. I only had about an hour and a half of daylight remaining but I had found a place that was better than my dreams. Pure silence, pure paradise, and I soaked every second of it in. I took the last few minutes of sunset to ponder on life and what I want from it. I'm 27 and I'm not afraid to say that I still don't know what I want to be, but I know I don't want to be unhappy. Here, in that place, I was very happy! I also know that every holiday I take from now on is going to have be pretty decent to top this ride because nothing can compare to the feeling you get when you arrive at a place like Vagabond Lodge after putting in the effort I did. I'm visiting some of the most beautiful places in the world that with my previous job I would never be able to afford. 

The menu was "set" and in dollars so I didn't even bother looking at what was being served, I went straight to my bike and cracked out the noodles. I loved getting the stove back out again and it was a dream end to a very hard day. I knew I had an equally as hard day tomorrow but if it had half the ending that today had then it would be worth it.

Border Horo

Friday 21st February

I still had to pack as I had put it off and put it off so I had a quick breakfast and said goodbye to the volunteers who were off to work. I was excited as always to get underway and even more so to enter that elusive Tanzania and make the most of some decent roads for once. Seeing as I thought the roads would be better, I took a bit longer to leave and made sure I had everything packed away where it should be. The contents of my handlebar bag looked strange, like there was something missing, I couldn't put my finger on it so I just carried on packing. 

The road from Camp Kenya's Muhaka camp is a thick sandy road of about 3km. I very carefully rolled down it and pushed Nigel some of the way to ensure no morning shockers. It took me about 20 minutes but I had finally reached the hallowed tarmac and was ready to push off towards Tanzania. The road felt great and for the first time since possibly France, Nigel made no noise whatsoever. No rack clicking or spokes tinkling, just the beautiful murmur of rubber rotating quickly over tarmac.

Waaaiiiit! My passport, its normally in my handlebar bag! Where is it? My first thoughts were, stinker, I'm going to have to go back up that horrible sandy road. I then remembered that I took my handlebar bag to the beach and I didn't take my passport so I could've possibly put it another bag if I was being sensible (rare) I checked the other bag, yes! get in! My sensible self gave me a horrible morning scare but the relief of finding it again spurred me on towards the border, nothing is going to stop me leaving Kenya now!

The last 60km of Kenya were very tropical. I could see the plants changing and instead of vast open plains, the road was becoming more enclosed with green shrubbery and palm trees. 

I got to the HoroHoro border in reasonable time and was flagged down by a queue of people as I happily cycled by them. It was the Kenyan immigration office and I needed to get my exit stamp. Ok fine, standard procedure, I gave the man my passport and he stamped my visa. Then he stopped and frowned and ran his fingers through the pages of my passport a few times. I thought nothing of it and waited patiently whilst keeping an eye on Nigel and the people around him.

"Where is your entrance stamp? You need to come with me," he said. He took me to an office behind the glass to another man. They were both not impressed at all, "Where is your entrance stamp?" "I'm sorry I don't understand, I crossed the border in Turkana and stayed with some police but they didn't mention anything about an entrance stamp," I replied. "The police don't count, you should know better, you're British, don't play the ignorant man, you should know you must get an entrance stamp." He blasted at me, I couldn't believe it, this man was really serious and now it obviously seems a standard thing to do but I pushed my bike across the border and stayed with police for 7 days, it honestly never crossed my mind back then that I hadn't seen immigration. I was genuine in my apology but the officer's really weren't taking it that way.

One of them patronised me by saying, "look, this is an entrance stamp, and this is an exit stamp" as he punched down on a piece of paper.  "I completely understand you sir but I'm very sorry there was no immigration, I'm cycling across Africa and all I want to do is get to Tanzania." I could see the border, I could smell it! I was annoyed that I hadn't got a stamp but there was no one on the border to get a stamp and even if back then I knew I had to register in Nairobi, my time between entering Kenya and getting to Nairobi was a little eventful!

I was annoyed with the way they were talking to me but this was no time to play the, "it's not my fault you haven't got an immigration office at that border crossing and your security is pants" card. I was in pleading mode 100%. "I'm very sorry sir, I'm just cycling through and helping out charities as I go..." I tried to explain how I had got into the country but who in their right mind would believe me and my story if they didn't know who I was?! 

Everywhere you go you get an entry and exit stamp don't you? Yeah you do but that's typically in an airport or ferry terminal. Not everyone pushes their bike across a border and then looks out for the first immigration office amidst the gun fighting between two rival tribes!

I almost broke down. I knew the repercussions of this would be bad, I had been in Kenya illegally for 2 months. The man I was pleading with wasn't having it, "I must play by the rules, I don't have the authority to let you go" I couldn't believe it, talk about day ruined. I closed my eyes and prayed, that's all I could do. When I opened my eyes again, the man was sat staring at me. I stared back in silence at him for a good 10-15 seconds. It was a "moment" I didn't know if was good or bad but it was definately something.

He got up and knocked on his boss' door. The boss looked at my passport, "Christopher, this is a very serious offence, you have been in Kenya illegally since Christmas Eve." "I know sir I'm truly sorry, all I'm doing is cycling across your country and visiting charities as I go, I didn't mean in any way to enter illegally, I stayed with some police at the border and I thought etc etc" my pleading continued until I could tell by his face that he wasn't having any of it. "So what happens now?" I looked up at him and in my head I had conceded, another story to tell the Grandkids I thought. (If I'm able to have Grandkids after what they'll do to me!) "Well we will have to arrest you and take you back to our Headquarters for interrogation in Mombasa or possibly Nairobi" 

I was gutted, my schedule is seriously screwed now I thought. I sat at the desk, dropped my head and put my hands together again...and prayed. I have prayed lots of times this ride, mainly giving thanks for protection, health and a working Nigel, never to save me from Kenyan handcuffs. I heard the sound of a stamp, lifted my head and opened one eye, the boss was writing something in my passport. "Because I have taken sympathy for your situation I have decided to let you go this time, this was very serious though so don't let it happen again" he said. 

I said "thankyou" and apologised about 5 times. The whole situation lasted a good 40 minutes so this wasn't a place I wanted to hang around anymore in so I got my passport and made a straight line for the exit. As I cycled towards Tanzania I could've cried with relief. Almost immediately, the words from Malin came into my head. She said previously that "I'm born with a golden hair on my bum" The English equivalent (things always go right for me or lucky git) has also been used in the past with regards to my life but today I praised God for whatever changed that man's actions from sticking cuffs on me to sticking ink in my passport! They probably didn't want to transport a smelly Hobo in their van across country so I should be thanking Beirdre, but either way, that Golden hair was looking down on me.

I got to the Tanzanian office still scared to look back just incase the Kenyans changed their mind. I immediately hit it off with the worker there and we talked about football for a while as he ran my payment and form through the computer. We exchanged emails and within 10 minutes I was LEGALLY in Tanzania!

The border is called HoroHoro border and I almost had a HorrorHorror. I cycled away into Tanzania with so much emotion and relief it was definately the best I've felt entering any country on this trip so far. Country number 18 and to make things even better, the road was wide, empty, tarmacked and there was a cycle section just for me. I can thank the kind people of America for the road and its beautiful cycle section as there were signs telling me all about it throughout the rest of my ride. I can also thank the people of Tanzania for the some of the best greetings I have received during my ride so far. "Good morning sir, how are you?" That was from a kid! Their greetings were genuine and they waited for a reply instead of just asking the question and walking off. Their bright white smiles would cheer up anyone having a bad day and what's more, there wasn't a call of "mazungo" to be heard!

I still had a very long way left to cycle and I had no money either. I knew my destination of Tanga would have an ATM but that was still a good 70km away so as always, I just had to suck it up and get there with 2.5 litres of water and no food. The weather turned tropical pretty quickly along with the surroundings and the houses. I could've easily been in the Caribbean judging by the materials used to build the villages. It was great, despite the heat, I loved cycling on a nice road through villages that look so remote and so time did go by relatively quickly.

The last 10 miles were a bit of a struggle and I eventually got to Tanga around 5pm. I had no idea of exchange rate as for some reason I didn't select it on my phone but found out from a German couple that it was around 1600 Tsh to the dollar and they had been searching for good hotel prices and 25,000 was the best they could find. I take pride in finding bargains so I reckon I could've camped for cheaper but the state I was in, I couldn't care too much. Also, if I was going to trust a type of person to find the cheapest place, then after myself, it would be the Germans. 

The "inn on the sea" served me well and after parking Nigel up next to the bed, I jumped straight in the shower. It was freezing cold aka Amazing!!! I had cycled just under 7 hours in heat that could make cheese melt. I felt like the human torch and with being pretty dehydrated, I drank some of the shower water, I didn't care. I've never done it before but then again I've never had a day like that before. I had to restrain myself from just standing there and gulping, despite how beautifully cold it was, I wasn't sure if it was safe enough to down! I've done really well with my health issues recently and I would not like Tanzanian shower water to be the cause of the dreaded return of the toilet monster!

I took a walk down to a restaurant to restore my body's energy levels. I had the feeling I was in quite a wealthy area from the amount of white people driving around and the yacht club by the sea. I've been told that if Kenyan's are classed as slow, then Tanzanians are positively stationery. My service confirmed this, so I ended up having my meal outside via phone light despite the sun still being in the sky when I ordered it.

A brisk walk back to my hotel followed possibly the worst Spaghetti Bolognese I've ever had (no sauce) and I finished my eventful day off with watching the A-Team. I don't plan on what happens to me on this ride and I especially don't request anything other than a quick in and out when it comes to borders. Despite what it seems like, I would rather a few days of boring cycling but it seems wherever I go, eventfulness follows. One thing is for sure, from now on, I won't be going anywhere without a stamp!

Wet break

Thursday 20th February

I annoyingly woke up quite early for breakfast but I didn't mind, today's plan was to spend it sleeping on the beach. After a very social breakfast I was then given a lift nearer to the beach by the Camp's van that was taking 6 of the volunteers off to camp in Tsavo.

I had cycled through Tsavo, its where I almost got stampeded by Zebras but I'm told other volunteers have seen elephants and cheetah there. A bit gutted now I didn't stay there for the night but I can thank Nigel and his temperamental back wheel for that.

I left the van and got a quick motorbike ride to the beach. Some things you take for granted in Africa and that's the ability to get anywhere quickly via public transport. Instead of waiting for buses and trains, there are motorbikes and tuktuks waiting for you!

I set up camp at Forty Thieves and awaited the sun to come and beat down on me as I slowly drifted off to sleep with the sound of the sea. What actually happened was the grey clouds blew overhead and rain began to fall. Typical! My first day off on a beach and I've had to retreat inside to watch the Winter Olympics.

After a few hours I took a walk along the beach. It really is very beautiful but I'm sure I would get bored quite quickly. There weren't many restaurants or bars on the beach and other resorts were open only to residents. I did manage to get myself into one of those swanky resorts however and it was very nice. Not sure how much it cost to stay the night but I would bet Nigel that it cost more than my budget of £10 a day!

It got to around 6 o'clock and I decided to head back to camp. I found myself actually looking forward to meeting back up with the others to hear how their day went. On the way back I stopped at a cycle shop to see if they had an adaptor for my new inner tubes, no luck. At the moment I have three brand new inner tubes that can't be pumped up, just hoping my current patched tube will get me to Dar!

After dinner we all sat around a chatted again. The group was down to 7 but they all got on really well. I felt comfortable there and I could've easily stayed a couple more nights. Got to push on though and tomorrow I will be entering Tanzania!!!!

Like getting to Addis Ababa, clearing Kenya has been a huge mental block for me. I don't know why but I've really struggled to see myself south of Kenya and now I'm just a day away from entering my 18th country, dreams are becoming realities!

Wheelie thankful

Wednesday 19th February

I knew my decision to stay in Kilifi last night would create an early morning wake up and a bit of a manic rush around Mombasa but I'd rather be in one of those kamikaze mini vans during daylight if I have to get in them at all!

I picked my seat tactfully by the window so I could have a nice breeze whilst trying to sleep. Good intentions but I didn't plan on the low ceiling or the guy sat next to me trying to read his newspaper with a greater wingspan than that of an albatross. I needed my helmet, with every bump my head would hit the wall and ceiling so there was no chance for some shut eye even with me using a MTG t-shirt as a cushion.

As soon as I got into Mombasa city I was out the van and into a Tuktuk. It was like the amazing race and it was half 9, I was supposed to be checking out of my hotel at 10. I had already missed the deadline for my free breakfast of hot goat's milk and oily egg...shame. 

I arrived at the shop and the wheel looked and felt decent. I'm not going to really know until I get riding but at least it looked fresh and with a bit of luck, it'll take me all the way to Lesotho with no more problems. I bought some spare spokes, inner tubes and a new chain. The inner tubes had a different valve on so I will have to continue to look for an adaptor in future towns, my best bet is probably Dar es Salaam. I have another chain that a fellow cyclist gave me way back in Wadi Halfa but it was used so it was best that I got a new one. I'm surprised how long my current one has lasted, its been with me since Greece so talk about a ticking time bomb!

I got back to the Hotel just before check out time and as I was the only one staying there, i was pretty sure they wouldn't need 3 hours between check out and check in to clean my room, so I was given some extra time to leave. I'm not really a fan of rushing to pack up but it was ok as I didn't have much to pack but i did need to pump up the tyre and put him back on Nigel. I ended up leaving the hotel at half 10 which I was pretty happy with.

I thought I should make the most of being in Mombasa as I hadn't had chance to the last two days so I cycled to the coast and followed it around to the ferry terminal. As I cycled to a photo spot I bumped into two Germans that said they saw me on Sunday. Olof and Annika were driving around with a guide and they said they saw me on the "death road" disappear behind a lorry en route to Mombasa. It's nice to know that some people are looking out for me even if the truck drivers aren't! 

From there I carried on to the ferry terminal, I had timed it perfectly. The ferry was free for cyclists and waiting to be filled. There was a huge queue of cars waiting and once they've put on as many cars as they're allowed, the heavily laden cycles go on and then finally the walk-on passengers. I pushed Nigel on with some of the locals that were carrying all sorts produce to the other side. Nigel looked naked compared to the amounts the other bikes were carrying. This gave me a lot of faith with regards to my wheel. Granted these bikes weren't travelling quickly across a bumpy 3000 miles but they were carrying probably twice as much as Nigel and coping well.

The ferry took a few minutes and I somehow managed to get myself off of it pretty quickly considering the mass bundle that occurred. From the ferry port I had a straight road down to Diani to Camp Kenya. The road was good and it wasn't as short as I thought but I managed to find the Head Quarters straight away and was welcomed with shock and surprise. They were all very interested in my ride and I had pictures with a few of the staff that will be displayed on Camp Kenya's Facebook page.

Camp Kenya is a great organisation that specialises in providing camps and excursions for volunteers that do all sorts of work in the community. Nicola, one of the staff took me to a nice bar called Forty Thieves on Diani Beach and on first sight of the beach I was a little taken aback. It was absolutely stunning. The beach last night was good but the presence of the restaurant opening on to the huge expanse of pure white sand made this one just a little better.

We had some food after I legged it past the sleeping camels and took a quick swim in the beautifully warm clear sea. I had fallen in love with a woman and her name was Diani! When we got back to HQ, Camp Kenya had kindly organised for a lift for myself, Beirdre and Nigel to their local camp down the road in Muhaka Village. I met the boss Simon who had been contacted by my friend Sharon who works for Camp's back in England. He was great and I was pretty much given the place do what I liked. Accommodation and food all provided, he said I could come and go as I pleased and once again I have fallen on my feet with the hospitality and kindness from initial strangers.

I didn't really have a clue what to expect. I had envisaged some sort of Army barracks with only the very basic facilities. As I arrived the volunteers were all in the common area and I was taken on a quick tour by one of the camp's staff, Mustapha. The place was great, 3 big dorms, nice toilet and shower block, large kitchen and an open planned common area with sofas, pool table and fridges for the volunteer's extra food. It was all set in the undergrowth as well so  if you imagine a nicer "I'm a celebrity get me out of here" camp, then you wouldn't be far off.

All the volunteers were very nice...and young. I didn't realise I was going to be entering an under 20's only club but luckily I like to think of myself as a social chameleon so I had no problems with conversation. The truth is, I'm still living a teenage life and I'm probably more of a child than all of them but if you're 27 and they know that, then it can seem like you're trying to hard so I just kept myself to myself to begin with.

The majority were very clever kids fresh out of private school and on their gap year before they go to university. I think if I had gone travelling before university then I definitely wouldn't be a proud owner of an Engineering Degree (or have any debt!) There were around 12 volunteers, all having stayed for different amounts of times and some in transit from Tanzania etc but there was still a great atmosphere. Apparently they initially joked as I wheeled Nigel past them to my Dorm about me having cycled from England. Instant respect points from the group when I told them I had. It's nice to tell people now what I've done as before I know it, i will be back in England and all this would be in the past, so I'm making the most of it now.

The guys were working on some good projects from painting the local school to fixing up a single mother's house. I would've happily helped out if I was staying longer but I really needed to have a rest tomorrow. After dinner we all sat around talking. The fight for the floor always makes me laugh but as these guys were well educated everybody was given their turn and listened to. I was dropped with the statement that I looked like James Blunt. I'm not too sure about it personally but the hair does give the resemblance although my voice is much better...

I enjoyed just sitting around and chilling. The last two days have been amazing and that's probably down to the abnormal amount of public interaction. Despite travelling 10,000km, I'm still sat around talking to English people! It was good though and I had to take a minute to soak it all in. Not just soak in where I was and how far I've been but how much can change in a day. I woke up in Kilifi with so much to do and here I was now, sitting with 12 other people in the middle of a forest talking about how long it takes to get ready for a night out! (2 minutes)

I went to bed after a failed attempt by two of the guys to catch one the camp's cats and put it in the girls dorm. Did I feel 18 again? No. Despite my story's of doing stupidly ridiculous things that only a 9 year old would do, did I feel like I was 8 years older than most of them? Yes.

This being said, I made sure I did not use the term "when I was your age" or "in my day..." and thankfully they are a great bunch so I'm not left out of the conversations like an old biddy because they're actually interested in my "war stories."

I must dedicate this day to my main man Abdullah Salem for making Nigel's back wheel quiet again (and hopefully indestructible) and my friend Sharon and the people at Camp Kenya. I can't begin to tell you how much I'm looking forward to doing nothing tomorrow!