Morogoro to Iringa – Monday August 20th

While I was packing up Simba at the front of the motel I was entertained by a local diva who was dancing while lip syncing the words of a song which was being belted out over two enormous speakers, much to the enjoyment of the gathered locals.

My poor ears, it went on for about twenty minutes and I daren’t start up the engine as to do so would have incurred a glare from diva and the wrath of her entourage. Anyway after she was done I politely applauded which seemed to please her, and off I took.

On a side note, but one of important detail, my tummy cramps were getting worse and I just hoped that I would make it to Iringa without getting ‘caught short’. This was even more of a concern as I would have to ride through a National Park for about fifty kilometres. It is inhabited by wild animals that include lions and elephants so I certainly would not be stopping for any length along that section.

This section of the TanZam Highway, as it is known, is not very well maintained which is understandable as I’m sure that road crews would be nervous working here. A steady stream of cross continental trucks and buses ply their way daily from Dar es Salaam on the Indian Ocean past Lusaka, the capital of Zambia, and on to the Angolan border.

It was nice to come across animals roaming free in their natural habitat once again and, although photography was not permitted, I did manage to sneak a couple of shots.

Though mind you, I never stopped for more than a couple of minutes….

…. not even at a Zebra Crossing!!!

It didn’t take too long until the reserve was well behind me and then it was back to passing small villages and a steady flow of cyclists and walkers along the route.

I stopped at a roadside stall to buy a couple of bananas which I hoped would be easy on my system. However he would only sell me a whole bunch and this cost me the princely equivalent of fifty cents.

So I gave away what I didn’t need to a group of school children who happened to be passing and to their mothers.

The journey on to Iringa only took about another three hours over nice mountain terrain and this is where you will always come across crashed lorries. They crawl down at the same snail’s pace as they crawl up so I’m guessing that brake failure is the principal cause of accidents with these appallingly maintained juggernauts.

I arrived into Iringa early afternoon and checked into what I was told was a decent hotel. The AirBnb I contacted couldn’t take me but assured me that I would be comfortable at the Isimila Hotel.

The disgruntled “receptionist” couldn’t have cared less about me checking in and, after insisting that I pay up front (€25), she showed me my room. The building reminded me of the 1950’s Dublin tenements that I used to visit around Sean McDermott Street in the 1970’s, the only difference being that I was the only one there.

I threw my stuff on the bed, had a shower of sorts and headed out to find a tuc-tuc.

It wasn’t far to the main street and from there I started to meander about. Iringa is a busy town as I recall from my last stopover here and I went in search of something light to eat.

I was advised by a young Dutch couple I bumped into to try Hasty Tasty Cafe. So I did and this was something that I would regret for the next forty eight hours!!

At least I got some entertainment out of watching these two moslem women engrossed in an argument.

I wandered back through the busy streets until I reached the hotel and got myself sorted so that I could head off quickly in the morning. Before getting into bed I went back to the grumpy receptionist to buy some water and it was there that I met the night porter – African Norman Bates who looked out of his head.

So I upped my bedroom security and climbed into bed, not for the last time as I had to go to the bathroom eight times during the night….