Ride to Discover Tanzania’s Hidden Gem

[MotoNews]

Published in: Rides

In the heart of Africa, you expect to see many things—spectacular scenery, ferocious wildlife, and the ancient culture of the Masai tribe. But, for a motorcycle rider passing through, the most famous of these areas are only accessible by hiring a Land Cruiser, ditching the motorcycle in order to enter any of the many national parks… or so I thought. A chance meeting with a local campsite owner informed me of a motorcycle route exploring the wilderness surrounding the legendary Ol Doinyo Lengai, fittingly named by the locals, “The Mountain of God.” The route to get there was described as an off-road route through otherworldly landscapes with the promise of wildlife, scenery, and adventure. The road surface I was told “depends on the weather.” Sounds like every motorcyclist’s dream. I was sold.

Like many memorable journeys, this one was born during an evening drinking beers and telling stories around a campfire. While looking over maps of the region, a campsite owner in the bustling town of Arusha suggested a route through a volcanic region northeast of the Serengeti. He described the area as the “Land of the Masai” and said if I wanted to see the wild side of Africa, I must go that way. It seemed like a no-brainer. The touristy parts of Africa, while spectacular, leave you yearning for more, wanting to witness the rugged desolate landscapes that you dream about as an adventure rider before coming to the continent. After a token amount of preparation that consisted of finishing my beer and Googling the route, I set off that weekend, lightly loading my trusty Rally Raid CB500X and taking only the essentials for surviving out in the wild.

The journey started with a four-hour tarmac ride to the limits of the Ngorongoro Crater, before turning off at Mto Wa Mbu (Mosquito River). This was the beginning of the route and instantly the landscape turned wild. The majesty of the Gregory Rift acted as a backdrop for a hard-packed gravel road that seemingly carried on for an eternity into the horizon. The abundance of cars, trucks, goats, and people scattered around the tarmac of the busy towns suddenly disappeared. The place was deserted, with the only sights for miles being the traditionally-dressed Masai and the beautiful scenery, both very peaceful and gracefully complimenting one another. At every water stop tribesmen appeared from nowhere to attempt friendly conversation. They mainly asked about my piki-piki (motorcycle) and wanted to share my water, but I appreciated the interaction.

As with all good off-road routes the surface drastically transformed as the day grew longer and the heat intensified. The established gravel road that I’d been churning dust on for the first 50 kilometers turned into a medley of deep sand, volcanic ash, and excruciating corrugations. A bumpy ride for sure, the type of terrain that's a favorite for anyone who feels the need to disassemble the nuts and bolts of their motorcycle mid-journey. But, as the corrugations got deeper and the sand finer, the scenery grew even more beautiful. Every drop of sweat, every ounce of effort and every inhaled cloud of dust was rewarded with something breathtaking to take home in the form of memories and experiences.

The road-induced beating continued until I reached a sign approximately 30 kilometers from the overnight stop. This sign was not in the form of a plank of wood with some Swahili written on it; it was the sight of a vast, barren field of volcanoes, sandstorms and odd scatterings of cows herded by a lone Masai teenager. At this point, I found stopping every few kilometres became a necessity instead of just a water break. It became impossible to ride more than a few minutes without pausing to appreciate the vast spectacle I was so fortunate to witness. More importantly, it gave me a chance to ensure a huge “Ding!” I’d heard five minutes before wasn’t something expensive happening on the motorcycle.

The corrugations and the sand continued right up until I approached the legendary volcano. When finally you see it, appearing out of a clearing in the dust storm, the Ol Doinyo Lengai reveals itself as a reward for persisting that far on the journey and venturing off the beaten track to find it.

To this day the Masai still worship on the peak of the mountain. For them it is the seat of power, the holiest of scenery and the voice of God. Upon setting my eyes on it for the first time, I found it hard to disagree. In fact, I found it hard to speak at all. It towers majestically over the barren landscape and appears ever powerful and commanding over the surrounding area. A deep sand track circles it, and with every few miles the mountain face changes dramatically, as if it miraculously shapeshifts while you are busy grinding away at the tracks ahead of you. This route, which I’d only heard about a few days prior over a beer, had beaten my wildest expectations already. From this point, it wasn’t long before I reached a small Masai community at the foot of arguably the most beautiful view of the mountain. Here the Gregory Rift reappears in the form of a spectacular jagged copper-painted valley while the various Masai-owned campsites are scattered on either side of the ash-laden road.

Here I celebrated my victory, drinking ice cold beer, camping in green fields, and feasting on Masai dishes of beef and goat to my heart’s content, all the while surrounded by scenery that wouldn’t be out of place in a sci-fi film.

I wasn’t content with staying put, though. I’d had a taste of the ride and it was all I could think about, so the journey had to continue. After a night of relaxing and re-tightening every vital bolt on my motorcycle, I saddled up and continued on. The route out involved backtracking through the previous 30 kilometers before heading east towards Longido to complete the loop. In normal circumstances I’d avoid retracing my steps, but I was happy with any opportunity to relive the ride. But, the next day was a whole new experience.

Lit up by the morning sun and with the dust storm subsiding, the landscape was once again completely transformed. The mountain still looked majestic, but it seemed to have finally revealed its secrets. It was completely clear. The unique white natrocarbonatite lava was visibly glimmering on the peak, mimicking the snow-capped Kilimanjaro only 300 kilometers away. The fields in front of the volcano were lush with plant life; herds of zebra and a few solitary giraffes grazed on the golden tall grass. All along, the Masai still roamed the lands, herding their animals and appearing as a timeless staple in the ever-changing region, Aal friendly, smiling, interested in the westerner riding his motorcycle alone in their wilderness.

I’d expected a lot from Africa, yet here I was in the middle of this crazy landscape, and it had far exceeded my expectations. Here was a place so barren, yet so beautiful, it really felt like I was on another planet and as far away from the trials and trepidations of normal life as possible.

After circling the mountain and reaching the crossroads, I faced 140 kilometers back to the paved road, but I didn’t know what to expect on this stretch. I’d been told the night before that the locals didn’t ride that way, as if there’s a breakdown, nobody would find you for days. Sounds promising, I thought.

To my surprise, it turned out to be a hard-packed mud road, a blessing after becoming increasingly weary from the long ride and the difficult terrain the day before. It became relatively easy to reach the high speeds required to let the wind whip through my textile mesh jacket and cool my fast-overheating body. It seemed the absence of buses, tourists, and trucks, had made for great road conditions, although a few minutes of heavy rain would turn this fast route into a prolongated adventure.

But that’s a highlight of this region; the road condition changes daily, so you could ride the same route repeatedly and have a different experience each time. Each time you enter it, it’s reset; no two runs are ever the same. In between the miles of easy roadway, intermittent patches of deep sand grabbed my attention and made the route even more enjoyable.

Skirting the Kenyan border surrounded by the vast mountain scenery, it was as if I was riding through a uniquely crafted motorcycling paradise. The only people I met along the way were the Masai, going about their days as they have done for a millennium. After stopping for a water break, one of the local tribesmen came over and kindly asked if I was okay or needed help. I gave him my thanks in the form of sharing a cigarette and then we went our separate ways with just a few parting words. “Good luck friend.” It was a brief exchange but one that signifies the simple kindness that crosses the divide between cultures and people. Small interactions like this continue to restore my faith in humanity.

As with any adventure, reaching the tarmac at the end brought about a mixture of emotions. I was happy to be back on a smoother road so I could sit down, relax, and not worry about my motorcycle disassembling as I rode. But I was also extremely sad to be leaving a place which didn’t seem quite real. It was a place that would occupy a throne in the halls of my memories forever. Every facet of this route had been nothing short of incredible. It had been a bite-sized adventure of landscapes, cultures, and dirt roads, all unlocked by the majesty of riding a motorcycle. It made me realize this wasn’t just exactly what I wanted from Africa―experiences like this are what makes being alive so spectacular. It was a small loop that cost very little, took only a few days, and required no research, but it was one that would mark the highlight of this wonderful country and one of my favorite experiences on two wheels.

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Luke Phillips is a long-time adventure rider and ex-British army paratrooper from Stourbridge, England. In 2017 he quit his job, sold his possessions and has never looked back. He rides his Rally Raid CB500x all over the world, with 150,000 kilometers, six continents and 47 countries ridden. He is currently riding through Africa, and you can join his journey on Instagram at @LukePhill17.

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