We rode 154km today. I rushed to get out with someone. I've stopped leaving with the racers because I don't want to freak out my ankle, and since they leave last, I don't want to be stuck alone all day if I drop out of the peloton. Which is also why I'm getting logged in at twelve hour days in the race charting. I was doing about 30 km/h in the headwind, and managed to catch up to the ladies - Anne, Viv, Helen and Isabel, who were riding at 25-26 km/h in peloton. We traded off every 5km, making the day much more manageable physically and mentally - change is good in the desert. I plotted the next story of Brownie and Woofie for Sequoia (my step-daughter), thought out my storyline for the Sudanese bike (which I've now ditched, having gotten an even better one from our visit to the refugee camp), and did math problems. That's what I think about when I'm riding. I also come up with counter arguments to things said by Eric, our neo-Reganite, which makes for fun discussion in the right company - and never too serious.
Getting into camp, we were exhausted. There was a coke-stop 1km away from camp, but I couldn't get there until after dinner. We were wiped. And then we found out that after our rest day in Khartoum we would have 6 straight days of riding, including our first two in Ethiopia. We're all a little paranoid about Ethiopia. Mountains, Bad roads, kids with rocks, and no privacy. In Dongola we stayed in a zoo. There were no animals. There were so many people lined up outside the compound walls watching us wash clothes, shower with buckets (clothed), fix bikes. There were even guys sitting on a roof hollering at us. In Ethiopia it is meant to be even more so, only without the walls. So four straight days of around 150km, and then two days in Ethiopia. The first day in Ethiopia is rumoured to be really rough because it will have been almost a month since any of us has been allowed any alcohol (prohibited in Sudan). It's usually a hangover day. On the rocks. As the kids throw them at you.
The next day was our day into Khartoum. We also had our time trial. I had been out of the race for so long I didn't even know if I was still in. They didn't know either, so I got a whole bunch of 12 hours thrown on my schedule, and rode the time trial, which was great fun. I'm pondering riding them and bailing on the race aspect. I much prefer the 20 km races to racing every day - you don't get as much variety in who you ride with. We'll see. I rode on until just before the 60 kilometer mark, and then tragedy struck. A bus was coming in the oncoming, and I didn't hear the truck coming up behind me - it didn't honk because it figured it could just squish in between the two of us. the side of the truck was a sort of steel that looked like corrugated roofing. I got smacked on my arm and hand by four of the bumps, and swerved off the road, thankfully staying on the bike. I was bruised and swollen with a bit of blood, but burst into tears more from shock than from pain. I sat at the side of the rode thinking, I'm alright, everything is moving, nothing is broken, I'm just shocked. And so I started riding with one arm when it occurred to me that I had some first aid with me and should clean it. As I was cleaning it Simon rode up and I burst into tears again. He sprayed me with disinfectant, and shortly after the sweep came by and called in a truck. We got to lunch and I threw my bike on the big truck and did nothing the rest of the way in except chat with the sickies.
There is quite a bit of sickness going around - I'm hoping I'll miss it, but ailments spread like wildfire in the camp. Try to tell people not to share food - it's impossible. We all like each other, and we're all used to sharing. It's not possible to break that habit.
We got into Khartoum and were slightly disappointed in our campsite. It looked like every other soccer field we had been staying in, only there were hundreds of guys staring at us. It's being used as a military complex. We all changed our minds about the place when we discovered that there were plenty of warm showers and a shop that sold cold drinks for 30cents. we changed our minds even more so when we got a surprise treat that night.
But first, we went on the prowl for internet. There was a mall that we could supposedly get supplies at. We found a coffee shop that served ice-cream! Pizza! Bowling! Air conditioning! hahahaha! Since Scott and Sherriff were leaving us, we had a fun game of bowling together on the most curved, bumpy lanes I have ever seen! It was awesome. I have never laughed so hard! It was our own little oasis of a culture that we have no interest in back home, and yet here it was exactly what we needed. Oh and the pizza was so good - solid fat! mmmmmm. I've been dropping weight like you wouldn't believe, so the fattier the food the better.
We got back to music. A rawbaba, a drum, a man chanting accompanied by dozens of others. Imagine the African tribal music you'd get on a World Beat CD, perform it on a dark sandy courtyard, with youngfellas jumping in and stomping to the beat, the one foot keeping pace with the bass-tone, the other moving faster, with hard stomps that make the earth quake. the dirt rises - the guys stomp hard - they match themselves with partners until one tires, hands in the air or thrusting at their sides, they dance. And then they started coming up to us, calling us in. We danced with them, stomping hard until we started laughing. High-fives and clapping, slaps on the back and others encouraging us to go back for more. I went to sleep shortly after, covered in sweat.
M
Saturday, March 28, 2009
Saturday, March 7, 2009
Riding through the Valley of Death
Sorry for the late blog updates. Since I got into Sudan blogspot seems to crash most computers.
We turned down a road, and suddenly the Nubian desert was to the left of us, and the Sahara to our right... or was it the other way around? There was still a bit of Nile to our left. And when we finally turned fully into the Sahara, there were actually trees. Well, glorified prickly bushes, but still they were green and alive. Unlike the camels. We passed by hundreds of dead camels by the roadside, heads contorted and bodies dehydrated from the heat. We rode along an old camel trading route, and of course in terrain like this, many don't survive. Fortunately with enough support we got through it alright. Though one more day of eggplant and okra in the food and I might not have. Is it really possible to be picky about food on a trip like this? Sigh. It is. Not that the food isn't pretty much always great - I just have a thing against those two particular vegetables.
So I was on the truck for a couple of days, and then rode for the remaining two, and then we made it into Dongola. It is hard to sleep in in a very religious Muslim city. I woke to the sound of about fifty mosques all going off at once. And the dogs! Wild dogs! There must have been hundreds of them. I got up, I did handwash, I cleaned up my bike. I ate and ate, I bought a prayer mat for desert yoga and a present for the loved ones. It was very very busy, and not very restful. My ankle was swollen, but it didn't really hurt, and the rest of the way was paved.
The unfortunate thing in the route planning is that they have us going days of 142km, 142km, 156km, 108km, based on the fact that last year had a tailwind. This year there was a headwind. It was f**king ugly. The first day was fine. There were two deserts, there was the greenery of the Nile in the distance, there were tea shops along the way where we sipped tea out of small glasses, half sugar, half tea-water, and then I discovered chai bin habhan - tea with cardamom - now replacing my favourite, chai bin nyar nyar - tea with peppermint. We throw sarongs on in these places so as not to offend. One fellow started to show us how they wrap the turbans, but we could never figure out the initial coil, as he couldn't take it off that far.
I rode with Anne, the South African, and Catherine, the Australian that day. Anne is a former birder and pointed out the Egyptian vultures, as well as the many kites. There were many of these because there were carcasses aplenty. In fact, that night when we went out for our nightly toilet excursions we had to be careful not to walk too far as our own camp had two dead camels in it. When we got into camp we dove into the canal - not without hesitation - it was runoff from the Nile that had been used in agriculture. I know. But you ride through a desert at 52 degrees heat with a bloody headwind and tell me that your toilet wouldn't look like a basin from heaven. And it was clean looking. With moss floating in it occasionally - so something living was in it. And we figure they probably don't have access to pesticides. I'll stop making excuses. We just did it.
The next day I woke up tired. A deep-in-your-bones kind of tired. Sure we only had 142 km to ride, and it was all paved road, and meant to be tailwinds, but I was just done in. I rode with Evelin from Holland - she does computer programming for banks and loves to travel in the same way I do. We have great conversations, so I figured I'd ride with her. But I was too tired to even hold my own. I was dead dull, there were headwinds, and the day just wouldn't end. Thank god Evelin was her normal, cheerful self. At the lunch stop we picked up Catherine, who was also about to quite because the day was so horrible. The Sahara is interesting, but only for a while. Then it is just sand. And some scrub. the most amazing thing is looking out to your right and realizing that that is pretty much what it looks like for the next four thousand kilometers. Only with less scrub. Oh, and we've all been having mirages - the sand actually looks like a lake in the distance. No wonder they figured out how to make glass and mirrors. The "water" is very deceptive in that it reflects trees and anything around it. We stopped at the last coke stop for about an hour. I didn't think I would drink coke on this trip, but sometimes anything cold will do. Even liquid battery acid. When we finally got into camp I did some yoga, ate and went straight to bed. I was in bed by 7:30 that night. I woke up to the southern cross out in the distance, and a new energy. Just when you think you've given it your all out here, go to sleep, wake up, and you know you'll have some more.
We turned down a road, and suddenly the Nubian desert was to the left of us, and the Sahara to our right... or was it the other way around? There was still a bit of Nile to our left. And when we finally turned fully into the Sahara, there were actually trees. Well, glorified prickly bushes, but still they were green and alive. Unlike the camels. We passed by hundreds of dead camels by the roadside, heads contorted and bodies dehydrated from the heat. We rode along an old camel trading route, and of course in terrain like this, many don't survive. Fortunately with enough support we got through it alright. Though one more day of eggplant and okra in the food and I might not have. Is it really possible to be picky about food on a trip like this? Sigh. It is. Not that the food isn't pretty much always great - I just have a thing against those two particular vegetables.
So I was on the truck for a couple of days, and then rode for the remaining two, and then we made it into Dongola. It is hard to sleep in in a very religious Muslim city. I woke to the sound of about fifty mosques all going off at once. And the dogs! Wild dogs! There must have been hundreds of them. I got up, I did handwash, I cleaned up my bike. I ate and ate, I bought a prayer mat for desert yoga and a present for the loved ones. It was very very busy, and not very restful. My ankle was swollen, but it didn't really hurt, and the rest of the way was paved.
The unfortunate thing in the route planning is that they have us going days of 142km, 142km, 156km, 108km, based on the fact that last year had a tailwind. This year there was a headwind. It was f**king ugly. The first day was fine. There were two deserts, there was the greenery of the Nile in the distance, there were tea shops along the way where we sipped tea out of small glasses, half sugar, half tea-water, and then I discovered chai bin habhan - tea with cardamom - now replacing my favourite, chai bin nyar nyar - tea with peppermint. We throw sarongs on in these places so as not to offend. One fellow started to show us how they wrap the turbans, but we could never figure out the initial coil, as he couldn't take it off that far.
I rode with Anne, the South African, and Catherine, the Australian that day. Anne is a former birder and pointed out the Egyptian vultures, as well as the many kites. There were many of these because there were carcasses aplenty. In fact, that night when we went out for our nightly toilet excursions we had to be careful not to walk too far as our own camp had two dead camels in it. When we got into camp we dove into the canal - not without hesitation - it was runoff from the Nile that had been used in agriculture. I know. But you ride through a desert at 52 degrees heat with a bloody headwind and tell me that your toilet wouldn't look like a basin from heaven. And it was clean looking. With moss floating in it occasionally - so something living was in it. And we figure they probably don't have access to pesticides. I'll stop making excuses. We just did it.
The next day I woke up tired. A deep-in-your-bones kind of tired. Sure we only had 142 km to ride, and it was all paved road, and meant to be tailwinds, but I was just done in. I rode with Evelin from Holland - she does computer programming for banks and loves to travel in the same way I do. We have great conversations, so I figured I'd ride with her. But I was too tired to even hold my own. I was dead dull, there were headwinds, and the day just wouldn't end. Thank god Evelin was her normal, cheerful self. At the lunch stop we picked up Catherine, who was also about to quite because the day was so horrible. The Sahara is interesting, but only for a while. Then it is just sand. And some scrub. the most amazing thing is looking out to your right and realizing that that is pretty much what it looks like for the next four thousand kilometers. Only with less scrub. Oh, and we've all been having mirages - the sand actually looks like a lake in the distance. No wonder they figured out how to make glass and mirrors. The "water" is very deceptive in that it reflects trees and anything around it. We stopped at the last coke stop for about an hour. I didn't think I would drink coke on this trip, but sometimes anything cold will do. Even liquid battery acid. When we finally got into camp I did some yoga, ate and went straight to bed. I was in bed by 7:30 that night. I woke up to the southern cross out in the distance, and a new energy. Just when you think you've given it your all out here, go to sleep, wake up, and you know you'll have some more.
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