Get Me to Gondar: Journey through Ethiopia

[MotoNews]

Published in: Rides

“Blimey, no! Surely not. Jeez! Yes, I’ve crapped myself.” We were camped for the night on farmland about 300 kilometers south of Khartoum, Sudan. We’d ridden there from the U.K. on our scooter and sidecar, and we’d had the most incredible time coming through the desert. It’s a great place to ride because the people are so friendly, and you can camp anywhere. Tonight, a farmer said we could use his land. It was a perfect location, empty and about a mile from the main road. After dark, there was no one around and all we could hear was the sound of singing in the distance. The only other entertainment was the crackling campfire and the billions of stars above. Oh, and the fact that I’d crapped my pants in the middle of the bloody Sudanese desert….

I told Reece, but what deserved a full-blown laugh merely got a snicker. He was also a mess. We’d both come down with a horrific case of food poisoning. The next eight hours were spent going in and out of the tent, digging holes around that poor farmer’s land. It was disgusting.

We woke up feeling completely rundown but decided to get on the road as soon as possible, and began packing. I was outside the tent when Reece crawled out. As he stood up, I saw a shadow flash of something running up his leg. At first I thought it was probably nothing but had to make certain.

“Reece, stay very, very still. There’s a scorpion on the back of your knee.”

“Oh my god! Get it off, get it off, get it off!” Reece pleaded.

I grabbed the nearest stick and flicked it off. Reece was saved.

Later, when we got on the web, we Googled “indigenous scorpions” for the area. The first that popped up on the list was called the “Death Stalker,” unmistakably the one that had been on Reece. True to its name, the Death Stalker was known for killing the young, elderly and weak. Fresh off the back of food poisoning and 300 kilometers from the nearest hospital, Reece would have been dust—a close shave.

We’d been on the road for less than three months and, having never ridden a motorbike before planning the trip, were pleased we had more or less made it through the Sahara, our first big challenge. Apart from an odd puncture and a failed bearing, everything had gone swimmingly well, and we were just one more wild camp away from making it to Gondar, Ethiopia.

Gondar is a small tourist town in northern Ethiopia but, after that bout of food poisoning, it was the light at the end of the tunnel. We were absolutely desperate to get there, and planned to splash a tenner each in order to get a nice bed with a working toilet. Plus, reaching Ethiopia meant beer was back on the menu and, my word, could we do with a pint!

Feeling rank but with the finish line in sight, we cracked on through Sudan. By the time the sun dropped, we had made it as far south as the outskirts of Dinder National Park on the border of Ethiopia, and were praying we didn’t have more run-ins with the local wildlife. Here, a scorpion would be the least of our worries; lions and leopards aren’t so easily fought off with a stick.

We camped again but this time there was no digging necessary and, fortunately, no wildlife. We woke up feeling a little fresher and excited for the road. That day we’d make it to Gondar. A bed, a beer, a proper meal, a toilet—bring it on!

Entering Ethiopia we soon found ourselves snaking through lush green valleys, a welcome change from months of desert. We continued along up and down the hills until we reached the first sizable village. From the top of a hill, we could see the village was chocka-block with people. What was going on? A protest? A party? A normal day? We had no choice but to press on and find out. As we approached, our presence didn’t go unnoticed and everyone began to gather around us. We slowed down to join a traffic queue while all around us people were chanting and jumping up and down with big sticks.

I was in the sidecar, so I whipped off my helmet and gave out a massive smile. People were confused by us and I wanted them to know we came in peace! It wasn’t hard to get the message across and soon everyone was laughing, cheering and dancing along. We attracted a lot of attention, but it was still pretty intense.

Eventually we made it out of the village and had a good laugh about it. The experience had been crazy, but it was over, and only 60 kilometers to Gondar! But as we crested the next hill and looked down, there was an even bigger village with even more people in the streets. “Blimey, this is going to be a long day,” I thought. We pressed on once more and the same routine happened. Reece was still driving and we got stuck in a queue again, slowly crawling along until the traffic began to pull away. We’d stopped.

“Reece, what are you doing? Floor it!”

“I can’t mate, it’s going nowhere!” He floored it again, full throttle. We didn’t move. The crowd were all around us. Pushing, pulling, grabbing and we couldn’t move. I crawled out of the sidecar to have a look around, yet couldn’t find anything wrong.

“Try it again,” I shouted through the noise of the crowd. Reece floored it once more but moved nowhere. Instead, bits of metal flew from the bottom of the crankcase and smoke plumed up.

“It’s done for, mate! Stop!” Worse still, the back wheel had seized and now we couldn’t even push it. We were sitting ducks.

We had blocked the road in the middle of what we later found out was Timkat Festival Day, the biggest religious festival in Ethiopia. It wasn’t long before a police pickup pulled up and out jumped a couple of cops holding AK47s with a few more holding massive sticks. The guys with the sticks instantly began pounding back the crowd. Properly hitting them. Yet the crowd found it hilarious and turned it into a big game, rushing in to try and touch the sidecar before getting beaten back. The policemen would turn to whip another section of the crowd and they’d pour back in again.

Through a combination of charades and a bit of English, the police soon understood that we had got into a pickle and agreed to put the rig on the back of their truck and take us to Gondar. But, the only way we would be able to get it onto the pickup’s bed was brute force, so we asked the police to stop whipping the crowd and ask them for help. The rig didn’t quite fit but we strapped it down with a wheel precariously perched on the edge of the bed before jumping in and holding on for dear life.

Around 10 kilometers from Gondar we pulled into the local cop shop. “Okay, we stop here,” said the driver.

“No, please can you take us to Gondar?” we replied.

“No, here you get off.”

“Come on, it’s 10 kilometers. We’ll pay you. Please just take us.”

“No, you must get off here.” We looked around. We were at a prison. Well, you could call it that, but it was more like a chicken hut. Behind us were 20–30 guys stuffed into a barbed wire cage, held up with a few sticks.

“No chance, mate. Come on it’s only 10 kilometers. We’ll pay you whatever.” I got some money out and started offering. The sun was setting, and we did not want to stop here for the night.

“No, you must get off.”

“Be reasonable, come on, we’re not getting off!”

“No, you must get off.”

“No, we’re not getting off!”

“Fine, I’ll take you back to where I picked you up.”

“Okay, we’ll get off!”

We got off and the local police said we wouldn’t be able to get a truck to take us to Gondar until after the festival. We’d have to stay there. Not a chance! We got straight to flagging down trucks, and just as it was about to turn pitch black, we found one and finally made it to Gondar where we booked a hotel room and had that beer… and a real toilet!

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Matt Bishop is one half of “The Sidecar Guys”. Along with the other “Sidecar Guy”, Reece Gilkes. Together they hold the Guinness World Record for the longest journey by scooter and sidecar, and the pair are the first to circumnavigate the globe on such a rig. Over the course of 15 months, they traveled 34,000 miles, through 35 countries, and across five continents. From the sands of the Sahara to the snows of Siberia, they faced some of the world’s toughest environments. Matt has since written a book about the trip, aptly titled “Our Ridiculous World (Trip)”, and you can get a signed copy at AsSeenFromTheSidecar.org.

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