W Bukoba byliśmy trochę zaskoczeni długością kolejek w bankach. By wymienić pieniądze musielibyśmy stać prawie 3 godziny lub więcej. Nie chciało nam się czekać i ruszyliśmy w trasę ze skromnym zapasem lokalnej waluty. Po drodze musieliśmy jeszcze zatankować paliwo z beczki, bo nie było stacji benzynowej i kiedy już było ciemno zatrzymaliśmy się przy drodze, w małym lasku, na nocleg. O 5 rano koło naszego samochodu pojawiło się z 20-tu mężczyzn, bardzo zaciekawionych naszymi osobami i skończyło się spanie. Porozmawialiśmy chwilę i po szybkim pakowaniu ruszyliśmy w drogę. Jak się później okazało panowie ci wyświadczyli nam wielką przysługę tak wczesną pobudką.
W zbiorniku nie mieliśmy zbyt wiele paliwa, w portfelu zbyt wiele gotówki i z nadzieją na znalezienie banku wjechaliśmy do miasta Kahama. Bankomat nie działał więc stanęliśmy pod drzwiami zamkniętego banku myśląc, że będzie można wymienić dolary. Do otwarcia zostało około 1,5 godziny, a za nami zaczęli ustawiać się w kolejce inni ludzie. Kiedy jako pierwsi dotarliśmy do okienka około 50 osób wcisnęło się za nami do banku. Szczęśliwi zatankowaliśmy Patrola do pełna i ruszyliśmy do Singida. Tam kończył się asfalt i do przejechania mieliśmy długi odcinek po prowizorycznej drodze zrobionej wzdłuż nowobudowanej przez Chińczyków arterii.
Wjechaliśmy w góry i znacznie się ochłodziło. Krajobrazy stały się ciekawsze i pod koniec dnia zaczęliśmy rozglądać się za noclegiem. Dotarliśmy w pobliże szczytu Hanang i tam spędziliśmy noc pod przepięknie rozgwieżdżonym niebem. Jako, że byliśmy w pobliżu wioski rano odwiedził nas lokalny Masaj by zapytać czy niczego nie potrzebujemy i czy wszystko z nami w porządku. Grzecznie podziękowaliśmy za jego troskę o nas i po zjedzeniu śniadania ruszyliśmy w drogę. Było pochmurno i padało, a droga zmieniła się w jeszcze gorszą niż była, ale po kilkudziesięciu kilometrach dotarliśmy do asfaltu i by odpocząć po trudach podróży odwiedziliśmy kawiarnię w Moshi. Niestety szczyt Kilimandżaro tonął w chmurach ale mieliśmy nadzieję, że uda się jeszcze go zobaczyć. I tak też się stało! Następnego ranka chmury odsłoniły przed nami górę na, dosłownie, kilkanaście minut.
Mount Kilimanjaro, Tanzania
We planned to reach Moshi, a town at the foot of Kilimanjaro, as quickly as possible. Luckily, the roads were not as bad as we’d been expecting and we had only 270 kilometres of potholed and corrugated tracks to cover, the remaining 1000 km of the route being along decent tarmac. The journey was a fairly monotonous one, the climate and scenery differing significantly from that of Uganda. We entered a hot, arid savannah, where the temperature crept up to 36oC, reminding us of our trials with the heat in Sudan. In comparison, now it was no more than pleasantly warm.
In Bukoba we’d been taken aback by the length of the queues at the town’s banks; to change money we would have had to wait for three or more hours. Not an appealing prospect, hence we moved on with only a modest sum of local currency. On the way we passed only small villages where there were no filling stations, so ended up having to buy some diesel from a barrel. As the day drew to a close we decided to stop for the night in a small area of woodland not far from the roadside. At 5 am a group of about 20 men gathered around our vehicle, eager to satisfy their curiosity as to its occupants, which they deemed best to do by banging on the windows to rouse us. After exchanging a few pleasantries with them (not an easy task after such a rude awakening) we swiftly packed up and moved on. As it later transpired, the gentlemen in question had done us a huge favour by getting us off to such an early start.
With a fuel tank now running very low and our wallets virtually empty, we drove into the town of Kahama in the hope of finding a bank. Although we successfully located one, the cashpoint was out of order, so we took our place outside the bank’s closed doors, despite the fact that there was still an hour and half to go to the start of its office hours, hoping to be able to change some dollars once it opened (8.30am). By the time we were allowed in, a queue of 50-or-so had grown behind us, and we were mightily relieved to be at the front of it and get the cash we needed to fill up the Patrol and move on. Arriving at the town of Singida, the tarmac gave way to a long, bumpy and chokingly dusty stretch of temporary road running alongside a brand new motorway currently being built by the Chinese. The road climbed up into a pleasingly cool and picturesque mountain range, where we started to look around for a place to stop overnight. We reached the foothills of the Hanang peak, where we spent the night beneath an inky black, fantastically star-studded sky. As we’d stopped not far from a village, we were visited by a local Massai in the morning, who asked after our health and checked whether we needed any assistance. We thanked him for his concern, and after a quick breakfast hit the road again. Clouds gathered and rain began to fall as the road grew steadily worse, before finally joining the handsome, though speed-bump punctuated, asphalt that led to Moshi, where we took a welcome break at a local cafe. Sadly, Kilimanjaro was shrouded in thick clouds, apparently not an uncommon state of affairs. Luckily for us, the very next morning the clouds parted for ten minutes or so revealing its snow-capped peak, which we were happy to admire from a distance rather than attempt a three-day climb to view it at close quarters.
We planned to reach Moshi, a town at the foot of Kilimanjaro, as quickly as possible. Luckily, the roads were not as bad as we’d been expecting and we had only 270 kilometres of potholed and corrugated tracks to cover, the remaining 1000 km of the route being along decent tarmac. The journey was a fairly monotonous one, the climate and scenery differing significantly from that of Uganda. We entered a hot, arid savannah, where the temperature crept up to 36oC, reminding us of our trials with the heat in Sudan. In comparison, now it was no more than pleasantly warm.
In Bukoba we’d been taken aback by the length of the queues at the town’s banks; to change money we would have had to wait for three or more hours. Not an appealing prospect, hence we moved on with only a modest sum of local currency. On the way we passed only small villages where there were no filling stations, so ended up having to buy some diesel from a barrel. As the day drew to a close we decided to stop for the night in a small area of woodland not far from the roadside. At 5 am a group of about 20 men gathered around our vehicle, eager to satisfy their curiosity as to its occupants, which they deemed best to do by banging on the windows to rouse us. After exchanging a few pleasantries with them (not an easy task after such a rude awakening) we swiftly packed up and moved on. As it later transpired, the gentlemen in question had done us a huge favour by getting us off to such an early start.
With a fuel tank now running very low and our wallets virtually empty, we drove into the town of Kahama in the hope of finding a bank. Although we successfully located one, the cashpoint was out of order, so we took our place outside the bank’s closed doors, despite the fact that there was still an hour and half to go to the start of its office hours, hoping to be able to change some dollars once it opened (8.30am). By the time we were allowed in, a queue of 50-or-so had grown behind us, and we were mightily relieved to be at the front of it and get the cash we needed to fill up the Patrol and move on. Arriving at the town of Singida, the tarmac gave way to a long, bumpy and chokingly dusty stretch of temporary road running alongside a brand new motorway currently being built by the Chinese. The road climbed up into a pleasingly cool and picturesque mountain range, where we started to look around for a place to stop overnight. We reached the foothills of the Hanang peak, where we spent the night beneath an inky black, fantastically star-studded sky. As we’d stopped not far from a village, we were visited by a local Massai in the morning, who asked after our health and checked whether we needed any assistance. We thanked him for his concern, and after a quick breakfast hit the road again. Clouds gathered and rain began to fall as the road grew steadily worse, before finally joining the handsome, though speed-bump punctuated, asphalt that led to Moshi, where we took a welcome break at a local cafe. Sadly, Kilimanjaro was shrouded in thick clouds, apparently not an uncommon state of affairs. Luckily for us, the very next morning the clouds parted for ten minutes or so revealing its snow-capped peak, which we were happy to admire from a distance rather than attempt a three-day climb to view it at close quarters.
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