I am in my prime environment. There is hard compacted mud beneath my wheels with overgrown green lush scrub licking the road edges. The wet season has taken its toll in sections and I am forced to ride on the high dry bits between the ruts of sloppy mud. A local shepherd slowly wanders behind his herd of cows, watching me with great interest. I smile. This is Africa, I am really here and this is what I love.
I am pretty satisfied with my motorcycle. It’s running well and nothing is leaking and my clutch is now working properly. I turned off the main road that heads back to Nairobi and followed a dirt track towards Uganda. Weaving between the northern and southern hemispheres, I marked the occasions with a quick photo stop and moved on to keep warm.
We arrived at the border control for Kenya with our modified road tax receipts, which once read valid for only one month and now read three months (saving myself at least $40). However the relaxed and friendly customs official didn’t even ask us to display our nice little handiwork. We were just entered into the oversize ledger and told to visit the immigrations hut next door.
With our passports stamped, the guards opened the boom gate that separated the two countries with this idyllic scenery and we took our first breath of Uganda air.