As we packed up camp we began discussing the way back. Apparently there was an old road down the other side of the mountain that would save about 5 or 6 hours driving time – a very tempting idea.
A young moran came and asked us to take a very sick old man down to hospital. I asked him if we were going this ‘quicker’ way would he still want us to take the old man. He said he would which I took to mean that the road wasn’t bad enough to be a risk to his life. We found him lying in an old boma next to the road after an hour’s driving – he was not well at all and was in considerable pain all over. We took out our mattresses and made a bed for him with a couple of bolsters so that he was sitting in the back like a king.
Many of the young moran on the road warned us that we would never make it through the road ahead. Not even a motorbike could get through now they said as it was washed away. In the end, I bet a particularly fervent young moran a calf that we could get through. Two others said that they would also bet a calf, making the prize for success three calves. Always glad of a challenge I accepted although secretly I did wonder......
The road looked deceptively harmless but vegetation disguised deep gullies and sudden drops where the road had washed out. Our first problem was a washout in the middle of the track bound by hedges on either side blocking all other options. We dug and filled holes and tried it. The ground started to collapse as I drove across the gulley and I had to reverse quickly. I wondered again if this was stupid but also thought we may have reached the point of no return already. A couple working in the fields nearby helped us and warned us it was much worse ahead but as we got through I felt more encouraged.
The dirt track now turned into a very rough rocky road and sloped steeply downwards. We walked the track and worked out a route, filled holes and moved the larger rocks. I was now quite calm about us going on and looking forward to the three calves. We wobbled and lurched down the hill, filling holes in on the way with one man guiding me from in front and another organising passers by to help.
Round a couple of bends we came across a huge problem where the road had been washed right out with a twenty foot fall onto some large boulders below. The only viable option was to cut a deep ditch out of the hillside above that the top tyres would lock into and stop the car from slipping away. The work progressed slowly as the slope was pretty steep but a woman kindly cooked chai for us to keep us going.
No one else seemed to understand the physics of Landrovers and there was a fair amount of goading to try this and that but I had the upper hand as the vehicle was mine and I was behind the wheel! We carried on with much banter, exhortations and heavy sweating.
After several failed and rather alarming attempts, I tried again but needed people to push the back end up hill. Many refused as they thought that they would be squashed if it rolled. However, I managed to encourage enough to push with others sitting on the topside of the pickup. Now the rear tyre was in the ditch and things looked good, but when they told me to keep going beyond where they had dug, it all went pear-shaped again and I ended up at a precarious angle just above the washout, holding onto the passenger’s side doorpost to keep myself on a level!
(No photo of this bit as I was holding on for dear life!)
More digging and the afternoon wore on. It took a lot of leading by example to persuade those who were flagging to keep digging as we were all pretty exhausted. My fear was that the last few metres would be too steep and as I was turning down the slope to rejoin the road the Landrover would tip over. And in fact, as I rushed down towards the road the topside front wheel started to lift and was only just stopped by the other front wheel meeting the flat surface of the road and pushing the vehicle level again. The spring gave a loud bang as it bent back into shape which made it all the more dramatic.
Everyone was happy and after all that were saying how easy it had been! I think I was the only one who knew how dodgy it had really been.
We now had a pickup full of people wanting a lift to the next village which was useful when we met the next obstacle which was a very deep but narrow washout that someone had carefully camouflaged with sticks - and I drove straight into it! Luckily only the front driver’s side wheel had gone in but there wasn’t much to stop the car going on down the gulley. With plenty of help on board, the front of the vehicle was lifted out and we were soon well on our way again.
THEN the two morani who were accompanying the old man told us that the track had been cursed by the witch doctors so that strangers wouldn’t have access to their land – now they told me! I’m happy to say that despite it all, the old man arrived safely at a better hospital at the end of this road than he would have done at the end of the longer road.
The views across the plains were spectacular. Sometimes I look at views like these and get butterflies in my stomach. The grand scale of the wilderness with no sign of man. Below us the biscuit brown plains stretched away into the distance, broken up with big seas of yellow grass. To the left were a line of progressively smaller rounded hills, swooping down from the heights of a nearby mountain, each one haloed in a dust haze. It was a magical light show of both detail and grandeur with so many hues blended into one great tapestry that was a feast for the eyes and refreshed the soul.
