Waking up to the buzz of mosquitoes and a slimy morning mess, we had no idea the day ahead would humble us the way it did. Our mission was simple: ride from where we were to Eswatini using a small border crossing to avoid the bigger, busier ones. Google Maps said 337 kilometers. Sounded doable. What could possibly go wrong?
Well… everything.
We started off from a beautiful lodge. It was serene—the kind of place that makes you feel one with nature. The reflections on the water, the soft morning light—it was all perfect. Except I was still running with half a windshield, thanks to a previous crash. But hey, spirits were high!
Rocks, Rain, and Realizations
We had barely ridden 300 meters before the road started fighting us. It wasn’t the worst road in the world, but it was rocky enough to bounce our tires like basketballs. We thought of deflating them but decided to tough it out. Google Maps kept warning us. I wish we had listened.
Rain clouds were forming. We could feel it—see it coming in the distance. Dama doesn’t enjoy this kind of road. And who can blame her?
And then… the rain started.
Mud Trials and Motorcycle Tears
It wasn’t just rain. It was a storm. The path turned to clay. Slimy, sticky, slippery clay. My first muddy adventure. And it broke me.
We were barely crawling at 18 to 20 km/h. Faster than that and we’d just slide and fall. I fell. I cried. I hated that road. I genuinely hated it. The mosquitoes didn’t help either, landing on our helmets, buzzing in our ears. It was chaos.
Every time I tried to move the bike, it felt like I was doing nothing. It was so frustrating.
Thank God for Le
Le was my rock. I don’t know how I would’ve gotten through that stretch without him. He helped lift the bike every time I couldn’t. My left shoulder is still recovering from the crash in Leopa, so I couldn’t do much solo.
At some point, Le ended up riding both bikes just to get us through the mess. The clay was that bad. The road was that unforgiving. We even joked that this must be the same kind of clay used to make pottery—it was that sticky.
Despite it all, we kept going. Resting briefly, laughing a little, crying a lot (okay, just me), and swatting at insects I couldn’t even identify.
Google Maps, You Betrayed Us
According to the signpost, it was supposed to be 15 kilometers of this nightmare. But no—Google took us down a 24 km clay trap. There were cars stuck, people walking barefoot through the slime, and yet we kept pushing forward.
Eventually, the road got better. A little. I’ve never been so happy to see a salt road in my life. We were tired, cold, and soaked—but a bit hopeful.
Freezing Fingers and Border Blues
After hours of struggle, we made it to the Dangua border. Wet to the bone, but finally out of the mud. We had to go through immigration and customs under pouring rain. Everything soaked. Hands freezing. My fingers had turned white from the cold. Note to self: next time, bring proper winter gloves—even if you’re riding through Africa.
Despite all that, we made it into Eswatini—country number seven for me! For Le, it was a return after over 10 years. And though the day had been full of crashes, mud fights, tears, and insects, we were excited to see what this tiny kingdom had in store for us next.
Final Thoughts
Would I do that road again? Not voluntarily. Did it break me? A little. But it also made me stronger. And traveling with Le? That made all the difference. Alone, I’d have probably just sat in the mud and waited for the sun. Together, we made it through—one muddy kilometer at a time.
Here’s to more roads (hopefully drier), more borders, and fewer mosquitoes.
Until the next ride ✌🏾