On the runout section of steep switchbacks we stopped so I could repack our extra fuel bladder. The F800 Adventure comes with a 24 liter tank, but the standard F650GS runs a 17 liter tank and requires a little extra for long stretches without fuel. We were using a 10 liter fuel bladder that I’d picked up in Vladivostok 9 years ago. It was a bit dated and if I didn’t pack it just right, it would sprinkle my backside with benzene as I bumped over the dirt track. As I repacked my bike, a local guide in a battered Land Cruiser pulled up alongside us and asked where we were going. While passing a wave at his two tourists locked in the back, I responded that we were heading for Lake Natron. The guide looked at us, pointed at our bikes and then just laughed as he pulled away. This made us wonder if there was something we didn’t know about the road ahead. We reasoned that we had plenty of fuel, water and food to turn around at any point, so we rolled out to see what was out there!

The route was good solid dirt track 100km into some remote villages, but after that, we found ourselves beyond any tourism zone and therefore beyond the reach of road maintenance. I understood why the guy laughed at us after we came up on our first crux.

However, what he didn’t know was that sometimes these big adventure bikes negotiate road washout and wadis with greater ease than 4x4s.  We’d find that “good enough line”, get high over the pegs and put that long travel suspension to work!

The lack of grater maintenance meant that the track was void of the bone jarring and bike ripping washboard. The cruxes were there, but between the tough sections was smooth, fast, perfect dirt track.

For once, in the history of adventure, the shortcut was actually turning out to save us time and effort. We were busting this route out in great time. Aside from some technical riding sections, the only other thing slowing us down was the wildlife, which we love!

As a general rule, we always give right away for animals that weigh 10 times more than us.
We also began spotting our first few Masai tribesmen. Standing tall on ridge lines and rocky outcrops, adorned in red tunics and armed with staves and short swords, they watched from a distance as we rode by.

As we drew closer to Lake Natron, both the climate and the geography morphed into the extreme. Soaring volcanoes cast afternoon shadows over green savannah and roaming herds of wildebeest and zebra.

Despite the green plains and lofty volcanoes, the heat was crushing, especially as our track drifted over recent lava flows and ash fields that bisected the savannah.

It was with great relief as we finally pulled up after a long day’s ride to an oasis of a campground.