Misja Turkana – approach 2

Misja Turkana – approach 2

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With a mission is the way it is, that as long as she did not realize it would be the human race, and persecute you can not sleep. So for the sake of our good night's sleep - Misja Turkana second approach. This time from the western side of the lake, the at asphalt last seen in the 70s, but it is slighly.


The first few tens of kilometers actually seemed quite idyllic. Green hills, sleepy village was on them and rushing river valleys. It would seem, Pokot shepherds that have nothing to complain about.


This idyll ended at the time of crossing the pass in Marich. As if someone took his. Replaced the lush green scrubby, wątły bus, mountain streams dried up, pastures everywhere instead of sand and stones. We pulled into the areas of Turkana. Cramps! Fate is not fair!


Moments later at the police station traffic policeman waved his hand showing us, that we have to stop. Oh no! Already established, As for sleep, important thing in the life of an extraordinary cyclist. No stop, now we know what it means. We have to get to the lake! Where to go? Do Lodwar. How is road safety? Damn sense! After all, we know the answer. Regret it even before this question them well were said. Nearby 10 km is peace, then ... Then ask the next post, nothing we can not guarantee you. Ok., it's not the worst answer, not? We go further.

It's hard to describe what it feels like when on the road for the atrocities themselves heard suddenly in front of you three guys with machine guns. On the right bush, left the bush, you can not see the horizon, another car, village or even another living soul. Doing a little cold, legs are doing to jelly, as if all the blood flows to the foot. Man thinks, that's what it feels like before graduation or driving exam is fear, not, not, not, this can not be compared. But some guys bąknęli welcome and went on. Oh boy ... With my heart in my shoulder got to Lokichar. We have been there 70 kilometers to Lodwar, further reportedly calm. Already very little. On the night we stayed in the mission in the town. Friendship priests served us dinner and a handful of fresh news on the situation in the region. It did not look optimistic, in front of us supposedly the worst episode. In the morning we went to the police, here again the same threats and the story of the robbery before less than a week. Cholera! It was time for Plan B. The only thing, which we really can not lose it our bikes, the rest is just gadgets, which can easily be replaced. Thus, we leave the bikes at the priests, the bare essentials to pack a backpack and we pop on the road with his thumb at attention. Bikes can not be a stop try, after all, it comes with a dream ;) Driver picked us up truck carrying beer from Mombasa to Lodwar. After the tragic we were having a bumpy road 6 hours! With each bounce wondering when policemen escorting us burn weapons. Looked like they did not quite know how it supports, in addition, all the way had it cocked! Just in case, my friend, just in case - Pocieszali in. With Lodwar yet only a short trip by truck to transport cattle and ....


The lake itself did not make much of an impression on us, but people living in the surrounding area were worth the effort, which we put to get here.


Turkana do not have an easy life. Like the Samburu are pastors. In this dry land just as pepper passed down from generation to generation knowledge allows them to survive. Following the cycle of nature wander in search of pasture and water, each time putting their settlements from the beginning.


Way back to the mission where we left bicycles rode as smoothly, little truck, as it broke down on the car switched to the UN, and then took us escaping oil company in Lake Turkana. Next we wanted to continue on bikes because we had the most dangerous stretch behind. Unfortunately, we do not fasted police. This morning Pokoci young shepherd Turkana killed during the robbery of cattle. The cops know, that it will retaliate and again Will Be Blood. We had to catch the car again with an escort. She took our truck (there is almost no private cars). On the way we saw how young men with Kalashnikovs on their shoulders gathered by the river – boundary between tribes. Awesome, that the police know what to cook but do not interfere, because we are afraid. After 8 hours of driving on the pace on the way so fatal, that should not even call her way, our asses have such wounds, that for three days to Pray because we can not sit on the saddle. But that is not the worst. During the journey, my bike was badly damaged and essentially no shift. Adam something pokombinował of Chinese crap, to make it possible to drive, but we need will be part of the Polish. We hope, and that somehow solve this problem. Meanwhile: Mission accomplished, therefore GOODNIGHT ;)