Lessons from Off-Roading

We had spent nine nights at the Temple Point Resort, a 4-star resort in Watamu.  The free perks made it too hard to go – the canoes and bikes, the private beach and swimming pools, the afternoon tea with homemade cakes and potato chips, the ping pong table and tennis court, and the evening entertainment.

Bruno and I had made sure to do an activity each morning, whether it was a bike ride into town for groceries, a long walk on the white sand beach, a snorkel or a swim in the ocean, or a canoe ride in the estuary.  In the afternoons, we’d swim in the pool, read, surf the net, and eat a lot of cakes and chips.  One evening, we saw traditional Swahili dancing (consisting mainly of fast hula-like hip-swaying) and another, fantastically athletic acrobats.

Perhaps you can understand why I had wanted to spend nine nights.  If you know Bruno, however, you know that he developed itchy feet near the end, and we left only because he was in dire need of some driving, adventure and discovery!

We knew we were heading north to Malindi.  And since it was a mere 25 km from Watamu, why take the easy, flat, tarred road?  Craving adventure, we opted for the country back-road, made mainly from bumpy and jagged coral rock.  In theory, this road skirted the edge of the coastline all the way to Malindi, but at times, you wondered if it were really true.

Though it was slow-going, we were happy with our decision to take this road because we caught occasional glimpses of the glimmering Indian Ocean and passed through villages whose homes were made almost entirely of the same coral rock we were driving on.  We also drove past countless identical holiday resorts whose only sign of life were the dazzling bushes of bougainvillea (fuscia! flamingo pink!  crimson!) exploding over the resorts’ fences.

Malindi offered only a few sub-par camping options, but Bruno – ever prepared – had an address in his GPS for a campsite further north, in the village of Sabaki.  The directions on the website had indicated a right turn after a bridge, then a vague request to ask villagers for Rodgers’ house.  I’d just made Bruno stay in a resort, so the least I could do was humor those directions!

And we did find the place, thanks to a group of young boys who ran in front of the car and periodically pointed out the way.  But the road was treacherous in several spots, and my heart skipped a few beats when we went down a particularly steep hill that the rains had all but devastated.  Bruno tried using his 4WD, but something was wrong and he wasn’t able to shift into gear.  I didn’t even want to think about what going up would be like.

Unfortunately, our vehicle was too large for the campsite, so I was going to be forced to go back up that hill sooner than I’d hoped.  Acknowledging that I’m not the best in off-roading situations, I opted to walk the uphill portion of that trip.  Bruno thrust a camera in my hands before taking off, foreseeing something work taking photos of.  Oh dear.

What I saw from behind the Toyota, camera clicking madly, was terrifying.  Without 4WD, Bruno eventually got stuck.  And when you’re stuck, it’s hard to get unstuck – you simply don’t have the momentum.

Black smoke began spewing from the exhaust pipe, and sand flew into the air under the skating tires.  The top-heavy Toyota dipped precariously to the right.  Rather than moving forward, the Toyota was now perpendicular to the road, its back tires stuck in a ditch and one front tire a meter or more in the air.

Somehow, Bruno managed to engage the 4WD, and with the motor screaming ever louder, slowly inch himself forward.  Eventually – and expertly, I must say, for he did not panic – he got the Toyota out of this sticky situation.  “Phew,” I muttered from my view at the bottom of the hill, realizing that I hadn’t been breathing for quite some time.

I was shaking as I entered the passenger seat of the car.  But Bruno, far from looking as though he’d just dodged a bullet, was already busy probing the source of his failed 4WD.  On the top of the hill, with kids surrounding us, he looked under the tire and gasped.

“A bolt – missing!  Another, almost gone!”

A bolt, of what I can’t exactly say, but his expression showed that it was important.  Something that needed to be replaced immediately.

But even once he’d found a replacement bolt, he wasn’t satisfied.  “Something was putting pressure on those bolts, otherwise they wouldn’t have gotten loose.”  Detective Bruno needed to find out what the something was.

To make a long story short, we soon found ourselves back at Mida Ecocamp, where Bruno could comfortably set about taking off the wheel of the Toyota, and all the parts behind it, until he’d found the problem.

Which he did.  Some other, really important part – important whyI can’t really say – had exploded into a million pieces.  Bruno seemed very happy to have found this problem, and kept muttering how this timewe’d dodged the bullet.

And so, the lesson to be learned is twofold:

1) When something doesn’t work, find out why now.  Waiting will only bring bigger problems (bullets) later.

2) Off-roading is risky business, and can lead to several days parked at a campsite doing repairs.