My arms are quite sore. How, you might ask, is that possible on a cycling expedition? Well, our campsite in Marsabit is quite some distance from town and getting lifts is a time-saving necessity since taxis are almost non-existent (and surprisingly expensive). On our way back from dinner, we got a lift from one of the support vehicles for the tour - a huge green 4x4. The only hindrance was the lack of space inside the vehicle (it was filled with food supplies for the upcoming riding week), so Steve, Sam and I were standing on the footplate and holding onto the roof rack. Luckily the trip took less than 15 minutes, else my arms would have given up.

Marsabit is a small, dusty town - the main stop between Moyale and general civilisation (Nairobi, or even Isiolo where the road suddenly becomes paved). It almost reminds me of what an advanced wild west town would have looked like - small general stores and wholesalers down a muddy dirt street, fruit and vegetable shacks line the road and you get the occasional electronics store. There's a baker (it seems Tour D'Afrique has bought them out of fairy cakes, only bread is left - woe is me), a barber (I'm saving my beard for Nairobi) and several internet cafes. There's a couple of restaurants, I've only eaten at one but we've visited three times already. In all my visits, I've consumed approximately six eggs (or exactly six eggs if you want to be pedantic) and eight fairy cakes.

We're also having fun experimenting with the varieties of different carbonated drinks sold in Kenya. In Ethiopia we had only the standard Coke/Pepsi, Sprite/7up, Fanta/Mirinda drinks but here at least there appear to be four different types of Fanta, something akin to ginger ale and another bottle that looks like beer but is another fruit based drink (much to the surprise of those riders who ordered it, expecting a beer).

The campsite is some kind of collection of dormitories and is run by nuns. There's a big statue of the Virgin Mary near the dorms and some kind of chapel too. I've yet to figure out what this place is called but there is some kind of meteorological station nearby and two huge silos (basically warehouses) on an adjacent field. Terrorist scientist nuns? A distinct possibility.

Speaking of the weather, at about 4:30am, I woke up with a wet face. Swearing vociferously, I slid out of my sleeping bag (an easy task because of its pre-existing broken-zip condition) and stumbled out of my tent to put the rain fly on. Just about every other rider was doing the same. It continued to rain well into the morning and when I had gathered the courage to leave my tent at 9am, everything outside was soaked. The roads were an incredible mess of mud and jeeps were getting stuck every few hundred metres. We were unable to find a lift to town this early and walked in the rain, sliding across the inclined path into precarious proximity to the muddy ruts.

Returning to camp by a combination of foot power and a lift on the back of someone's motorcycle, the laundry dilemma resurfaced and I resolved to hope for the sky to clear later in the day. I washed my clothes using rain water that had been collected in a big black tank - it struck me that if this was home, the rain water probably wouldn't have been safe to use! Chris trued my front wheel, with the advice that perhaps I should 'regulate' a bit more, which I took to mean 'ride carefully'.

Since there was no point in washing my bike before another three days of unpaved road, I had the afternoon to myself and with a steady electricity supply, it was now possible to read one of the many ebooks I brought on my laptop. I'm about a sixth of the way through 'Coders at Work', a superb and inspiring collection of interviews with prolific programmers. I've also finished a short story by Cory Doctorow, 'I, Robot'. In an attempt to restart my brain I've also been blitzing through Sudoku puzzles.

If the rain returns tonight, there's a distinct possibility that we'll be stuck in Marsabit for a second rest day since any more mud would make it hard for the trucks to travel. Hopefully this won't happen though and we'll be able to attempt the 600 metre descent that awaits us out of camp.

Slightly cleaner than when it started
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(or This Is Africa)

Today was a long day. Some days are long, purely because of the distance, but today the distance was relatively short (87km). The ground was unusually rough and upwardly inclined. It was the second of the three hardest days of the tour - the first was the Blue Nile Gorge climb and the third will be somewhere further south where we cycle 200km in one day (the longest single stage).

As I may have remarked previously, it is days like this when you wish you had thought about your bike choice better. They throw a lot of advice out to us - about tyres, bringing suspension and all the rest. Somehow, in the bike choosing process, I settled on a cyclocross bike and in the days before today, I began to wonder if I would be able to actually ride the road (based on a photo of the lava rock fields I had seen). Luckily the road is slightly clearer than the fields, there are ruts where vehicles have driven and as such, there is a way forward.

Often these ruts will be gravelly and hence incredibly slippery - if you slow down enough you eventually lose balance. This is fine when you're fresh and full of energy but as they day goes on, it becomes increasingly hard to keep your speed up. Dropping down some gears lets you pedal easier but you tend to slip more as more torque runs through your wheel.

Every now and then you'll notice that the other rut is smoother, or less gravelly or better packed (i.e. flat) and you'll consider switching. Sometimes, it's worth switching - if you don't, you'll lose a silly amount of time. Sometimes, it's not worth switching - since 15 metres down the road it will become just as bad as your side. Sometimes they alternate and you can either switch constantly (again, requiring lots of energy) or just stick it out in your rut.

Switching almost always mandates a high chance of falling. The middle section between the two ruts is thick gravel and usually the ruts are recessed by half a foot or so, with a slight slope on the sides of the middle section. It's possible, if you have enough speed and the right angle, to ride straight up and over the middle. Not enough energy, or just mistiming things and you'll slide straight over - the cause of many riders' grazes and cuts.

I've got a few cuts to the leg, nothing serious. The skin on my index finger where I grip the hoods of my brake levers has worn down since my glove is ripped and I need to put a plaster on it to stop it rubbing down further. It hurts to grip things - I can feel it in my fingers most, presumably from holding onto the handlebars tightly for 6-7 hours. I also have some nice callouses forming on my palms from the repeated small impacts which are passed up through the fork. Saddle sores are back in fashion - presumably for several riders. Hopefully with the upcoming rest day in Nairobi and three rest days in Arusha, they'll go away quickly enough.

Riding aside, the heat in Kenya is stifling and almost as bad as that of the Sudanese desert. Normally we'll arrive to camp as the heat is about to reach its peak, although today took much longer and most of the heat was experienced while out on the bike. The beauty of these roads being so bad is that we are, for vast stretches of time, completely alone. I pulled over several times, took my headphones out and just listened to the wind, the birds and some surprisingly noisy insects. The country is very flat and you can see the bush for miles (or kilometres...) around. This is the Africa I imagined when I signed up.

Supposedly Kenya's in my blood since both my parents are Kenyan. With that disclaimer, I'll state the following: Kenya is awesome! The country is pleasant to travel through and the sky is pretty phenomenal. We've seen lots of camels today, some baboons and the occasional person too. A small bar opposite our campsite serves some superb chapatis (I wasn't aware that these were so common in Kenya).

The riding today was harder on the joints - being corrugated dirt road with a sandy surface. Foolishly, I tried to adjust my brakes myself last night which, given the large, rocky descent straight out of camp, was not a good idea. I took the descent slowly and stopped often to fiddle with my brakes (to no avail). Luckily the rest of the day didn't require as much braking and it was over relatively quickly, I arrived into camp well before noon.

The road tomorrow is similar for the first 60km before we hit the lava rock. I'm quite apprehensive about this surface, it's been hyped up ever since we started thinking about what bike to bring. This is the meanest, hardest and roughest road we'll meet during the tour. Talking to the other riders, it is rideable on a cyclocross bike and will probably need an even higher level of determination to finish. With any luck, my rear wheel will hold together.

Paul (the tour director) helped me adjust my brakes today - he's incredibly handy and they work beautifully now. I'm usually loath to complain but I find it odd how little time Chris (our bike mechanic) seems to have for actually repairing bikes. He has two pre-arranged sessions a week of an hour long and some time on our rest days. People's bikes are beginning to need a fair amount of work as we get deeper into the tour - especially as we hit the rougher terrain. Sub-optimal.

The mosquitos are biting harder now and I've picked up three new bites in the last day alone. It's also getting warmer - I barely cover myself with my sleeping bag at night now, finding it a bit on the sticky side.

We're in Kenya. A dreary 80 kilometres of questionable quality pavement and a fairly unremarkable border crossing and we're in the motherland, or at least my motherland. Crossing the border, the fact that we're in a country is unmistakeable. Aside from driving (or riding) on the left hand side of the road, the people are friendlier here and more of them speak English. The kids don't hassle you, they merely stare (which is still not ideal but always better than a barrage of rocks).

I've spent about £20 worth of mobile phone credit already just catching up with family and friends. I've managed to organise via my father a new crankset, rim, set of pedals and a helmet - with any luck these will make it to Kenya with Paddy, another rider who is in London for an interview.

Talking to my aunt in Nairobi about what I'd like to do there, I mentioned the hierarchy of desirable snack food. That is, biscuits are at the bottom - easy to buy in every city, these are a staple snack item for every rider. Chocolate bars fall above biscuits - these are considerably harder to find in less well trafficked areas of Africa and are usually expensive (not an option on my post-student budget). At the top of the hierarchy is ice cream. When I used to weigh a metric ton, I used to eat a bowl of ice cream everyday. So far in the trip I've not had a single scoop of ice cream (although some riders found some at the (amazing) Sheraton in Addis) Ice cream is on the agenda for certain.

The rough terrain is worrying me, which is annoying because I usually love riding offroad. The next few days will be concerned mainly with preserving my bicycle in its now delicate state.

I'm not sure what else to say really. I was so stoked (and hence distracted) to be entering Kenya that I cycled into a pedestrian on the almost euphoric ride out of Ethiopia through the border town Moyale. Luckily it didn't break me or my bicycle further than it has already been damanged.

Oh, and the bugs are getting bigger and uglier. Every night I battle against some dastardly insect which has had the misfortune to find its way into my tent. Some of them can fly or jump pretty high, and in a small two person tent, this is a recipe for disaster.

The rain is heavy, it's been raining every night (and often during the day too) and *everything* is wet. Luckily it was dry enough this afternoon to let my sopping wet (but clean) clothes dry. We also have the dinner truck back which means there is one less bag to find space for inside the tent.

(Or Ethiopian Roads, A Survival Story)

Friday, or stage 34 was another wet start. The roads were dry when we started riding and it was our last day of riding before our rest day here in Yabello. I started by myself, with the thought that I'd have slow legs - the previous day was slow and we hadn't had exactly had time to recover much. Luckily (or so I thought), the day involved an overall descent and I found my legs spinning up to speed quite nicely.

The road was bad pavement as before but we had a new challenge - large potholes. At first they came only every so often but with each passing tenth of a kilometre, they spread over more and more of the road before disappearing for a short while, only to return in stronger numbers further down. Feeling quick and overconfident in my technical ability, I was flying over the potholed downhills at 50 kmph, barely braking and steering through the obstacles like a commuter in London traffic.

Barely eight kilometres in the road got substantially worse. Unknowingly, I approached that downhill section of road with the same callous disregard that I had the previous eight thousand metres. I lost control. The potholes came fast and faster. I didn't brake, they came too fast. I cleared one, cleared two, cleared three, and then on the fourth the back wheel came down with a sickening 'crack'. On the fifth, the largest yet, my front wheel got 'stuck'. The hole was deeper than my wheel wanted to roll over and so all that forward momentum (at this point it felt about 60 kmph) that my body was carrying threw me over the handlebars and I rolled straight over, landing on my back.

Moments later, I stood up, shocked, slightly grazed but conscious and with a full memory of the reckless idiocy that had just preceded. Hardy, one of the German cyclists, was behind me when I fell and stopped immediately to help me. He described the accident as 'just horrible'. He took me by the shoulder and told me to take a seat. The locals started to gather. I looked around, my right shoe was missing, my glasses were on the ground, the bike was lying on its side several metres from the pothole and my drinks bottles were scattered around it. My MP3 player was still playing music. Shockingly, my shoulder was still in its socket.

Hardy brought my bike, glasses and shoe over. My wheels were severely buckled - we spent a good 15-20 minutes trying to get the bike to turn without the brakes rubbing on the rim. The crowd of locals grew stronger. Several other riders passed, some stopped but we motioned for them to continue and they did. The TDA truck stopped but again, we gave them the thumbs up and they continued. Once the wheels were spinning and everything looked like it was in working condition, I tried cycling again.

The right hand side crank is bent. This is supposedly almost impossible and for a while we suspected it was just he pedal but swapping it with another pedal didn't fix the feeling of lopsided pedalling. Now, when pedalling, the right hand side ellipse is smaller than the left hand side ellipse. My right hand side brake lever was completely loose - presumably as a result of bearing the full impact of the ground. The rear wheel is irreparably bent (Chris tried straightening it but there are clear signs of stress on the rim).

Riding for the rest of the morning, I paused a couple of times to check my injuries. I have some grazes on my leg, but nothing too deep. My ankle is grazed, presumably as a result of losing the shoe. The back of my right shoulder is also grazed. The worst injury appears to be a swelling just below my stomach where I made contact with the topcap of the fork assembly. My shorts were ripped. At first I thought this was just on the side but was informed at lunch that a small amount of my backside was also now visible - I guess that explains the giggles as I cycled up hills. My face was scraped around my right eye where the goggles cut into my face. My helmet is largely intact but about of half of the front half is scratched where it made contact with the ground.

The rest of the day was another stark change in scenery. The hills are omnipresent but the crowds subsided to give relatively peaceful, almost desert-like red soil. Termite mounds were scattered along the side of the road, some in early stages of construction while others towered above the road like nature's skyscrapers. My camera was broken by the crash, so I have no pictures of these strangely beautiful creations.

General consensus is that I got off lucky. At that speed, on that road, it could have been much worse. Calamity Jane took the brunt of the impact and while I might be pedalling lopsided this week until my spare parts come through, at least I'll be pedalling and still EFI.

We're in Yabello now and about to leave tomorrow. It's a really boring town and there's no internet cafe. It could be yet another week before anyone reads this. Kenya approaches in just two days and I'll be able to talk to relatives again. It's been an intense week. And with that, February is over.

So we finally had our first experience of rain whilst riding. Not only was it there while we were riding, it was there while we packed up ou tents. Dan doesn't consider it 'rain' but 'spitting', but then again he's Australian. In England it would be considered rain - much like what we get about 60% of the year. Just about everything is now unclean - my tent has splodges of dirt on the side (the inner part of the tent is white, the rain fly is green - it shows up very clearly on the inside). My Thermarest, bags, bike, cycling clothes, casual clothes are all splashed with muddy water.

Today was our second mando-day, and we didn't receive much description in advance. They're trying to maintain the number of mando-days
year to year, except we're taking a different, slightly shorter route to Kenya to make up for the extra rest day. It was pretty difficult, similar to the previous mando-day (about 2,000 metres of climbing this time) and I definitely suffered. In addition, my legs are tired from the three days I've ridden hard and the stomach issues of that last couple of days have made it hard to eat enough. So it was a slow day snd my race position will be pretty poor.

The roads weren't too bad but coupled with the rain, quite an adventure to cycle down - reminding me of some of the mountain biking trips we've had to Wales and the Peak District. A couple of guys crashed on the downhills and I suspect rain was a factor in one out of the two. The rain cleared after lunch and it became more pleasant as everything dried off. My logic behind buying a cheap cycle computer was that it would be more reliable. This logic was thwarted by the rain and for the first 71 kilometres (confirmed by my GPS unit which sits in my Camelbak), the cycle computer didn't work.

Once it started working again, and I had managed to find one of the few spots over 100km that are private and hence suitable for taking a 'comfort break' the ride started feeling a lot better. The children were out in force today, there were houses pretty much constantly along the road. No rocks were thrown but lacking my MP3 player (for fear of water damage), I was forced to listen to approximately 2,000 'YouYouYouYou's along the way. There were a few interesting variations though, including one man who asked if I spoke Hindi, and a few 'Good Marning's. I also figured out that a good way to get a few moments of peace and quiet was to tell the kids to 'shh' and put your finger to your lips - it appears this transcends cultural and linguistic boundaries.

Finally, before my laptop battery runs out, the timing Gods have spoken and I did win yesterday's stage. Superb.

I don't know where to place the cause for the events of today. It was unexpected, a first in my life and yet for every second of it I had the sweet mesmorizing thought of victory in my head. For the not inconsiderable period from 73 kilometres (lunch) until 128 kilometres, I was leading the race for stage 32 of the Tour D'Afrique.

Yesterday I was with the lead group, one of the late starters (which meant my day's time would have been less than anyone in that group who had started before me) and trying my hardest to stay with them. This is something that would have unfathomable at the beginning of the tour but which was made achievable by nearly 6 weeks of cycling. Early on in the day we had a crash. We were riding in a group and it was my turn to pull (so I was at the front).

As we entered one of the first of a number of villages, we widened our group, slowed down a bit and prepared to dodge pedestrian, vehicular and animal traffic. It was a group of unruly youths whose alpha male swagger led them to touch shoulder with Dan that caused three quarters of the peloton (i.e. the three people after me) to go down. Besides Dan, Stuart and Marcel went over their handlebars into each other. I managed to glance back quickly enough to see them just as they all collided with each other. The group of youths scattered, presumably suspecting they'd caused an accident and not wanting to get in trouble.

The aftermath of the accident was mainly centered on Marcel - his rear derailleur had bent into an unnatural angle and his wrist was damaged. After an x-ray today, it seems he won't be riding for a few days because it is strained - luckily not broken.

Now, I hate to sound so conceited (?) but this meant that the next few stages were open. Marcel is a fantanstic cyclist, both on road and off-road. I don't think I might be able to beat him, at least not for the foreseeable future. Having ridden the last two days hard, most riders (and therefore racers) were slower today. In addition, stage 32 was the longest stage of our five day week, at 133km. From the morning, it was obvious in my mind that today would be a day to push the boat out a little and try for a good ranking.

In the morning I tried riding by myself but was soon caught by Dan and Gisi who are usually part of the fastest group. I joined them since they were going at a reasonable pace and it seems that this pace was faster than most of the field as we were quickly overtaking other riders. It was useful riding in a group as there was a heavy headwind in the morning and drafting provided some protection (although I gather that I should have drafted less). When we arrived at lunch there were just three riders ahead of us, Rod, Juliana and Tim, all of whom who had left earlier than us.

I stayed ahead of the group (now Dan, Gisi and Stuart) as we returned to the road after lunch and waited for them to overtake me as usually happened. For some reason, it didn't. The first climb was long, straight and on a narrow road which was being refurbished. I went at a pace that seemed workable to me and just kept pedalling. Soon, ten kilometres had passed and there was no sign of the trio. I had overtaken Rod and Juliana and Tim had left after us at lunch - I was at the front of the pack.

I kept going at a pcae that seemed comfortable to me, pushing myself every now and then to up the speed a little bit. The road got worse and worse, at some points being rough and pot holed, at others being smooth but with bumpy patches of tarmac which would throw your bike all over the road. The children were as annoying as usual but I was in the zone and concentrating enough to ignore them.

Every minute I would think to myself that I'd be overtaken any minute soon - that I should just prepare myself for the possibility. My brain fixated on the chance that I might just win the stage, winning something truly meaningful for the first time in my life. With each passing kilometre the chance that I'd be overtaken seemed to reduce in my mind.

At 120 kilometres I ran out of energy. This happened at 100 kilometres the previous day, about 10 kilometres from the finish (I wonder if this is a mental issue) and I continued to consume an energy bar in chunks. At 128 kilometres I was finishing this off and from the corner of my vision came Stuart on his bright yellow (or 'golden') bicycle. The probably of winning the stage shrunk considerably in my head and I put everything I had left (not much at all at this point) into trying to catch him.

He had gained about 250 metres in the overtake (I was going slowly as I ate) and we raced through a village and down the road. I lost sight of him as a considerable 'valley' approached (a downhill followed by an uphill).I cranked up my speed to 60 kmph on the downhill whilst realising that the orange finish flag lay at the bottom of the hill on the right. Coming in hot, I braked as hard as I could near to the flag, locking my rear wheel for several metres and then pelted down the grassy embankment, veering into the side of the water trailer at the back of the dinner truck. Touching my i-Button against the reader attached to the truck, the day was over.

The time difference between us has yet to be determined. We both left in the morning at virtually the same time and so the overall result depends on how the afternoon reading was processed. My guess is that the best result (for me) would be a draw. Alternatively, Stuart will have won by a minute. I'm looking forward to finding out from Kelsey, the race secretary, tomorrow.

Post race, my stomach has been acting up a bit. Not wanting to be another statistic, it has of course happened - I have become ill in Ethiopia. Luckily I think I've avoided the bug going around camp still and my problem is related to acid reflux, a problem I've had for several years and most certainly caused by the buffet breakfast at the Sheraton. I'm certain the buffet is also one of the reasons behind my racing energy over the last three days.

Our convoy out of Addis Abeba was as unofficial as the convoy entering it. The only difference was this time we were riding on a Tuesday morning and not a Sunday evening - this brought the added challenge of heavy traffic. The traffic brought with it the pollution I remarked upon yesterday - a putrid layer of black smog that we had no choice but to breathe in. Our new sectional riders found it difficult to breathe with the combination of poor air and altitude.

The smog didn't ease up as the convoy came to a halt (nearly 20 kilometres out of our campground) and with a brief gathering of riders, we were given the all clear to take off. The rest day (incorporatimng the Sheraton buffet) has had a positive effect on my speed and I was able to push it quite hard, keeping up with Marcel, Jerry (a new sectional rider) and a group of Ethiopian racers from Addis Abeba. This was going terrifically well until we got to a railway crossing and my bottle decided to jump out off my bike in its usual fashion. One of the Ethiopian riders waited for me, we managed a good 10-15 kilometres before I stopped to pee.

Just as I was getting back onto Calamity Jane, the second fastest convoy passed by, I was unable to catch them, lacking the drafting advantage. A couple of riders dropped out though (Viv, another new sectional and Tony - both British) and I rode with them to lunch.

When we arrived at the lunch bus, lunch was only just being laid out and this eroded any time advantage the group in front had. I managed to leave with the first group out of lunch and kept up with them for the relatively short 40 kilometres to camp. My heart rate was pushing a good 170/180BPM, on the extremely high side - I highly doubt this will be achievable tomorrow!

Riding in a peloton was useful today since we had a strong head/cross wind and it shows in the average speed of 30.7 kmph for the day (bearing in mind that the convoy was pretty slow for the first fifth of the day). As we got closer to camp, it was clear that no one was going to overtake us and that we were the fastest group. It came to my turn to pull the group, about 5 kilometres from camp and after a short while I was puzzled to see some of the riders overtake and sprint past into the distance. Soon though, it became clear that we had reached the trucks, although for some reason they had sprinted some distance down the road (apparently looking for a Finish flag).

Because of the short day, the flag hadn't reached camp yet and Stuart, Dan and I were first to the scanner on the side of the truck (this is what records our race times and determines the race winner). Conceivably I could have tagged in first and 'won' the stage but seeing as Stuart and Dan had done the majority of the pulling in the group, they tagged in first and Stuart was our new stage winner! My highest ranking yet - third.

We had the whole afternoon to ourselves, we played a game of Settlers of Katan (a board game of conquest similar to Risk), I took a nap, read more of 'The Life of Pi' and photographed the large number of storks nearby. At dinner, I contemplating trying some of the meat. Today it was less processed that normal (chicken wings versus some sort of curried meat) and I couldn't bring myself to eat something that looks so close to an actual animal part. I remain vegetarian.

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Fear of height.
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Just before a crash.
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Plural.
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Gigantic.
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Addis Abeba is a surprisingly modern city and the internet speed here is definitely quicker than elsewhere in Ethiopia. It is also home to a fair few Italian restaurants - the place we ate dinner at was excellent (in service and in food). Our wanderings around the Piazza area last night was a rememberable taste of the slightly seedy, very energetic capital city night life. Bars were at most 20 metres apart and overamplified music pumped out of their neon lit doorways. Peering into their darkened quarters, it was easy to tell which were popular and which were still waiting on a crowd. The music ranged from a mixture of American Popular to local Ethiopian music, of varying quality (static was a common audible artifact). This was all on a Sunday evening too.

This morning we ventured to the Sheraton, the most exquisite hotel in Addis Abeba. Several riders who are feeling deprived of their luxury so far have checked in (evidently the credit crunch is over - apparently last year about 95% of the riders camped out, far fewer are camping this year). For the cash strapped of us however, breakfast was our brief taste of opulence - $25 for a typically 5* breakfast buffet. We took our time there, about two hours, and I figure I must have consumed about 2,000 calories at least. I stopped at the point where I felt any speed bumps would have caused my body to expel food.

The journey to the hotel was in a typical blue and white local taxi, where the doors usually need two people to open them and whistling and whining noises are commonplace. The windows didn't quite roll all the way up and we received a good whiff of the Addis air. It was terrible. I thought Delhi was badly polluted but for some reason Addis Abeba tops it at rush hour - most likely because many of the vehicles are much older (there was a layer of black fumes contained in the closest 4 feet of air to the ground). On our way back we managed to take a hotel cab which was an E-Class Mercedes - true luxury and the climate control sheltered our defeated lungs from the onslaught of vehicular exhaust.

We're saying goodbye to two sectional riders today, a nice couple (Mark and Georgie) who became engaged on this trip! Mark apparently proposed at some point on the Blue Nile Gorge stage - this was a pretty inspired move, respect to the man. Several new riders have joined and the camp looks nice and busy again.

Aside from eating a ridiculous quantity of food for breakfast, the rest of the day has been consumed with mundane restday tasks like laundry, cleaning my bike, fixing my bike (no more creaks thanks to Chris, our bike mechanic, and a tube of bike grease) and sorting out my luggage. The hills should mostly be over now and the cycling plainer until we reach Northern Kenya and the offroad pain begins again.

It's been a busy week, not unusually difficult (at least not like our last week in Sudan anyway) but still tough. We've covered a good distance through Ethiopia and climbed to our highest point on the tour (3108m according to Mr. Garmin). Apologies for not writing more but a combination of a lack of motivation and a lack of energy effected themselves.

The day after I last wrote we had one of the most difficult climbs of the tour - the Blue Nile Gorge. This is a 1200m descent and ascent from 2500 metres down to 1300 metres, to a bridge which crosses the Blue Nile. The descent took approximately 25 minutes (I am ashamed to say that I had to use my brakes on a number of occasions, to avoid rocks, trucks and substantial potholes whilst also trying to prevent my bottles from jumping out of my bottle cages), whilst the ascent took me 2 hours and 38 minutes. (The fastest rider took about an hour less.)

Climbing isn't my forte - I normally grind up a hill, I think in this case, a slightly wider cassette would have been desirable (my lowest gear is 34-25). I started the climb after 11am and the day only became hotter as I ascended. Luckily with the increase in altitude, the temperature dropped, which offset the heat beating down from the sky. The sorry expression on my face (a look of exhaustion and inability to speak/breathe) handily stopped the roadside locals from trying to converse with me too much. I found also that choosing relaxing music was better to help my concentration - anything too heavy and my heart rate would climb through the roof whilst resulting in no additional forward velocity.

The climb passed unusually quickly, as I just kept 'mashing' the pedals forward, looking down at my odometer periodically to discover that the total number of kilometres was actually rising, albeit slowly. I wasn't overtaken by many riders which was pleasant - I despise being overtaken when I'm working as hard as physically possible.

As the top approached, the nature of the climb just conquered was belittled in my mind - previously it had seemed like a near impossible feat. My impression of climbing? With some pain, sweat, lots of zigzags and some slight sunburn, it is not so impossible. Some beautiful views and this was probably the second real 'Holy S**t I'm Cycling Through Africa' moment of the trip (the first being in the deserts of Sudan).

Relieved to have reached the orange Finish flag, I kept cycling and actually went a few kilometres past the campsite. Realising my error, I decided to grab a cold drink before heading back home. An outwardly friendly gentleman who spoke semi-decent English helped direct me to a drink seller and as I went to pay, he took the money in and came out with my 2 Bir change (approximately ten pence). Before I knew what had happened, he ran off down the street and the man selling drinks explained that I had just been robbed. There we go.

The next day of riding was easier and shorter. In the morning, conscious of the everpresent threat of rock throwing children, I quickly braked to a halt (endo-ing my bike, with the back wheel two feet above the ground). I turned around and chased down the boy in the red t-shirt, down the side of the road into a gated building which I assume was his home. It was here where (I assume, again) his mother came out, with the most terrified expression I have ever seen on a woman on her face. She was almost hysterical, speaking Amharic fast (not that this helped my lack of understanding). I tried to explain to her that rock throwing was unacceptable and she seemed genuinely apologetic. Hopefully the kids learnt their lesson - the rock they threw hit my crank and scratched the glossy black paint with some depth.

Later on in the day, I received a brick sized rock to my left shin as I was cycling downhill at 50kmph. I immediately stopped and tried to chase down the kids who ran into the field adjacent. Unfortunately their rock had also knocked my chain off and my attempt to pedal further resulted in a bizarre knot in the chain. A truck stopped at this point and the driver was ready to help. Unfortunately there was nothing that could be done but I'm glad to see that at least the adults are somewhat compassionate. Later on I was a moving target for another gang of children and yet another lorry stopped. This time he yelled at the kids and followed me for some distance to make sure I wasn't bothered again - very grateful for his help.

I'm not sure what twisted joy the kids receive out of throwing rocks at us and I've been relatively lucky (one child managed to hit a rider in the groin with a rock - true pain). It's sad to see how this has changed the perception of all of the riders. Some comment on how amazed they are at their feelings towards these kids who assault them with rocks - one rider who is raising money for a charity which does some work in Ethiopia says it is very disheartening that these people he is trying to help are obliviously hurting him and other riders. I'm a firm believer in karma - I won't throw a rock back at these kids, remembering the quote from Ghandi - 'An eye for an eye will make the whole world blind.'

Rocks aside, it was refreshing as we arrived in camp to notice that the kids had switched to saying 'Hello'. Supposedly a local lecturer at a university made posters telling people to say 'Hello' instead of 'Youyouyouyou'.

The altitude is definately affecting riders' physical ability. Marcel commented on how he was finding it hard to breath, shortly before he smoked half a pack of cigarettes. I'm finding the load on my respiratory system more significant too and I've been using my inhalers more (and not smoking at all before anyone gets worried).

The final day of the week was a non-race day which was a beautiful way to finish the section. The morning prayers were even earlier than normal (4am, what on earth are they thinking?) although apparently this was coming from the nearby Christian monastery now. I took it very easy and we ate a very long lunch. The sharp climb to the beginning of the convoy wasn't as difficult as the drawing appeared and the convoy was pretty much entirely downhill into Addis Abeba.

The convoy was a hilariously African affair, having no police support what so ever. A group of riders took off before the vehicle that was meant to be at the front of the convoy and it was quite a few kilometres before they managed to rejoin the actual convoy! Marcel didn't have working brakes so he'd pull over every so often and wait for the convoy to pass before joining it at speed and reaching the front in a matter of seconds. Our convoy vehicles were the local support's minibus and the Drama Queen (TDA's 4x4) and they took traffic law into their own hands, skipping red lights and blocking roundabouts.

For all those people who haven't seen Star Trek before (can't rmeember what series exactly), there is a race of aliens called the 'Ferengi'. In Ethiopia, the word ferengi refers to us: foreigners. I'd to describe what I call the ferengi switch, a phenomenon that seems to occur daily as we ride through the country.

I had the privilege yesterday of riding at the front of the tour for nearly the first 50 kilometres before I was overtaken by Jethro and Marcel, two fast riders. During this time I didn't hear a single 'you' (or multiple 'you's for that matter) nor was I the target for any stony airborn missiles. However, as soon as they had overtaken me, there was an instantaneous change in the attitude of the average pedestrian alongside the road. Suddenly everyone wanted to grab my attention ('hey, you') and the kids were back in their groove.

I can only surmise this occurred because there had now been enough time for the realisation that ferengi had just passed by to come to fruition. Alternatively, they were previously ignoring me because I am darker skinned and less likely to be considered a fully fledged ferengi. Indeed a lot of students (on their way home from school) asked me 'havashah' or something similar. Confused at this statement, I checked with our Ethiopian host who explained that it refers to the local people, they were asking if I was local.

What is certain though is that my skin colour makes zero difference once the first guys have gone past, whether it be because they are white or not. I've stopped acknowledging the hundreds of children we see daily who try to get my attention - they don't know what they are saying or why and I didn't decide to cycle through Africa with the intention of having a fly-by conversation with thousands of Ethiopian children! Luckily with the spare pair of headphones someone has lent me, this is now entirely feasible since I genuinely don't hear them. Once in a while they will get frustrated and throw a rock or two but this strategy seems to suffice.

There has been a bout of illness spreading through the camp - some kind of gastroenteritis (or stomach bug). It involves intense diarrhoea and stomach pain. So far about 60-70% of the tour has had or is having it and it seems like only a matter of time before it enters my body. I've been trying hard to stay away from those infected but when we're all living in such close proximity, sometimes it is almost impossible. Some brave riders have ridden entire days whilst ill but most have just ridden the trucks. If I contract the bug, I will have to ride in order to remain EFI. Another interesting challenge.

Non race day, so we're all chillin'
(View in high res)

Some crazy beings crawling around in the grass.
(View in high res)

Mmm, protein.
(View in high res)

Trees
(View in high res)

We're in Bahir Dar, yet another rest day - the third within five days and one of the originally scheduled rest days. This town is like a relaxed version of Gondar, with fewer people trying to hassle us as we walk down the street and a generally more laid back atmosphere. The internet speed seems marginally quicker than Gondar in any case.

The big attraction here is Lake Tana, supposedly the third biggest lake in Africa. It is quite pretty and quite undeveloped compared to most lakes in the Western world. There a few hotels/resorts which line the shores but for the most part there is nothing but green bush. Accessible via the lake is a peninsula which contains a population of 15,000 who work mainly farming a vast area of coffee being grown. On this peninsula sits a Christian monastery and on two islands in the middle of the lake sit another two monasterys, one of which is only open to men.

Most of my friends will know that I often struggle to understand religion, and Christianity sits high up on the list of religions I do not understand. Like copyright, it strikes me as an antiquated set of rules based on a fallible set of logic. In any case, this isn't a religious blog so I'll leave it at that. The monastery was less impressive than the Buddhist monasteries we visited in Nepal and the Jain dharamsalas we visited in India.

I was expecting a small but noticeable population of religiously dressed types walking around and performing their daily duties, a clean, sparse but peaceful enclave in which they could lead a life of piousness and study. Instead, all we saw was a circular building in which there was a rectangular structure covered in tapestries. Like another rider commented, it looked like a giant comic strip. On the outside of the building was some noisy construction work (so much for the peace) and the whole place just smelt slightly odd. There were a few shacks around this main building where I assume people slept. As for actual monks, we saw just two. A waning population or what? We saw a similar number in the men only monastery we visited and I think the third monastery was similar. Aside from these drawings then, there was nothing outwardly impressive about these places.

Last night we had a Mardi Gras themed party - a tradition for when the tour reaches Bahir Dar. People made varying efforts to dress up and many enterprising riders acquired plenty of tinsel and masks to complete their costumes. The most terrifying of these attempts was that by Stuart and Dave - both of whom decided to dress as women. Hardy had an interesting take on his costume, choosing to wear a vegetable sack, while Paul - tour director - went for a different sort of terrifying, dressing as a local priest. My own costume was rather lacklustre, not wanting to waste either money or tinsel, opting only for a smarter-than-normal short sleeve shirt.

We've been gorging ourselves in a local cafe called 'Starbacks', which bears little resemblence to the Starbacks we all love and hate. In addition to the cafe (which serves probably the best hot chocolate I've had so far in Africa), there is a reasonably priced restaurant which serves a pretty decent spaghetti napolitana. We've been to eat there three times now and dinner is fast rising up the list of immediate priorities. The waitresses are getting better now but initially it was a shock to them that for a table of 6 people, we were attempting to order 11 main courses. After the first meal and observing Ruben's stack of four plates, it has become slightly less outlandish in their eyes and hopefully our dinner order will go much smoother.

As I walked down the street yesterday, there was a man with a weighing scale on the sidewalk. Seizing the opportunity to see what effect burning over 90,000 calories since we began riding has had, I jumped on the scale and watched the needle settle. Disappointingly, it appears I am near enough the same weight I was when I left home in January. Perhaps I've lost half a kilogram or so but I had thought more would come off.

Anyway, we ride on tomorrow morning to reach Addis Abeba in five days time. I'm looking forward to reaching Kenya soon after. For those who don't know my geneology well, both my parents and hence most of my immediate family are Kenyan - they were born and grew up there. I have some relatives left there who hopefully I'll get a chance to meet - if not in March then in May when I return from Cape Town. (Some of my grandparents are Indian but we have only a few distance relatives who I do not know living there now.) In addition, Kenyans are quite friendly generally and as far as I am aware, you don't get rocks thrown at you.

Campsite is a bit compact today. When we started the tour, tents would be spread out over a huge area as riders tried to grasp onto whatever limited notion of privacy they could realise. In Ethiopia however, more so than Sudan and Egypt so far at least, there is seemingly an unlimited supply of local children (in fact that majority of the population appears to be sub-20 in age) who will quickly form an audience wherever tourists tend to go. As I mentioned previously, they tend to arrive out of nowhere and within seconds. They stand silently and stare, at least at first. The age range of our typical audience varies from toddlers to wizened teenagers who walk with a slight air of experience.

The children here are quite quick to scavenge whatever they can and in past tours they've stolen cycle computers, bottles, shoes and most things that aren't fastened away. Luckily we don't have to bolt our tents to the ground (although I'm wondering if my tent pegs which attach my tent to the ground are secure enough or if they'll be pulled out and taken). In the last couple of camps, the staff have erected a border which surrounds camp, This is literally thin rope (some of which I donated when I accidentally bought 10 metres too much of washing line) attached to iron stakes but works well enough to keep out the riff raff. This afternoon, bored by observing these lazy foreigners, who after a hard day of cycling were sitting placidly in their green chairs, the stick wielding children (i.e. all of them) engaged in some serious boughts of faux sword fighting.

As someone mentioned at dinner, if someone had asked him a couple of years ago what he thought he'd be doing on Valentines Day 2010, he probably wouldn't have answered 'sitting in an Ethiopian field surrounded by local children wielding wooden sticks'. Definitely a sentiment I agree with.

Riding this morning (literally, I arrived in camp before noon) was both painful and much easier than most of the last week. We were on road, and overall descended more than we ascended (i.e. more downhill than uphill). Plus, gifted with two days to recover, my legs had a bit of oomph in them, as did my lungs which for the first time in what seems like a long time, let me push my heart rate up to the magic 85% of maximum. Normally as I tire, it becomes harder and harder to push my cardiovascular-self up, and by the end of the last week, 140bpm, or about 70%, was a real struggle.

Our rest days in Gondar were kept busy, my bike is now nearly back to day zero shinyness, albeit with several unsightly scuffs gained from a month of hard use. Our local Ethiopian contact who liases with Tour D'Afrique has attained some kind of beer sponsorship and we were lucky to be able to visit the company's brewery in Gondar and drink free beer. Free, as in free beer! Any acquaintances who have ever drunk alcohol with me know that I usually despise beer - unfortunately (?) I found this beer palatable - perhaps this is a mark of my increasing age or an unusual beer. As another rider suggested, 'perhaps that's the reason the drinking age in America is 21'.

In addition to recovering physically, I also managed to wash properly for the first time in a couple of weeks at least. Although this in itself is a fairly newsworthy event, I was amused when Paddy, an Irish rider, commented - 'Sunil, nice haircut you got there'. Of course, I hadn't actually cut my hair but merely washed it.

We said goodbye to Adrian in Gondar as he travelled ahead to the medical facilities in Addis Ababa - he had a particularly nasty crash on the downhill stretch of one of the busy sections of road just before the rest day. Unfortunately it seems he won't be joining us for a while and may not even return this tour. This was quite depressing news - he is one of the most helpful riders on the tour, a good laugh, a superb cyclist and one of the first people I met when I arrived in Cairo. I wish him all the best in his recovery and hopefully we'll meet soon.

As I was cycling today, I had grand visions of drawing a Visio diagram detailing the typical dialogue with the Ethiopian kids as we cycled past. Unfortunately, my lack of foresight means that Visio is not installed on this laptop so you'll have to suffice with text (which should be easier on the bandwidth here).
Kid- 'Youyouyouyouyouyouyouyouyou' (or in Regex syntax '(you)+')
Me- 'Salaam' (= Hello in Amharic)
We have a split at this point:
Option 1)
Kid - 'Moneymoneymoneymoneymoney' (Regex '(money)+')
*I glare at them*
Option 2)
Kid - 'Where are you go'
Me - 'Addis Ababa'
*Kid is silent, making it clear that they didn't really know what they were asking'
Option 3)
*Kid throws a rock*
*I brake to a near-halt and yell at them*
Option 4)
*Kid holds out a woooden stick as I approach*
*I steer around them, slow down and do a 180*
*Kid scatters*
Option 5)
*Kid stands in the middle of the road, in my path*
*I steer towards them*
*They hold their ground*
*I speed up*
*They hold their ground*
*I keep going*
*Kid scatters*

Sort of. We're in Gondar, Ethiopia now, finding it slightly eery that there are other white people who aren't part of our group around. It'z supposedly on the tourist trail because of the existence of a castle (I'm not planning on seeing it today but may tomorrow). We're camped in the grounds of one of the highest hotels in the town (by altitude) and the campsite isn't exactly flat. My grand plan to sleep in this morning was thwarted by this fact - sleeping on an incline isn't the most comfortable experience.

The dinner truck has had a bit of SNAFU, the perfect way to end a seriously hard week on both the riders and the staff. The brake apparently failed as they were descending one of the moderately steep slopes we've encountered on our way through Ethiopia so far. Ferdi, one of the South African drivers who was driving at time, stuck the engine in a low gear to slow the truck down (the truck was full of bags, bikes and people). They finally came to a stop on a gravelly section of road near the bottom but this had blown a hole in the side of the engine as one of the rods blew. (That's as technical as I'll attempt to go...) Supposedly that engine is now a write-off and the staff are in contingency planning mode. This may mean another rest day (which my legs will most certainly appreciate) in Gondar.

The food and drink here is divine, compared to the fairly similar fool (kidney beans) and falafels we've been feasting on previously. Ethiopian food is almost curry-like and spicy too. A lot of riders apparently get ill at this time and I can definitely feel my plumbing shifting a little (hopefully not in an illness-inducing way). Last night we went to a fairly popular restaurant called the Golden Gate restaurant (IIRC) and I managed to find my favourite liquor - Amarula!

The weather is nice and cool here too, it's past noon here and I'm in no danger of overheating as I have been on the previous few rest days. There are tonnes of people everywhere in Ethiopia - I'm fairly safe when walking by myself but when I'm with any of the other riders (who are white and therefore look more touristy), we are surrounded by local teenagers within seconds. Even when you're out in the 'countryside', kids will appear out of nowhere from fields and trees surrounding the road.

Anyway, it's time now to get a shave and buy some energy loaded food for the next riding week!

It wasn't meant to be this long in between posts but it has been an exhausting few days. Seven days of hard riding wasn't going to be easy and it hasn't been. In fact, it's been the hardest thing I've ever done in my life. I'm just exhausted, I have no energy reserves left. Every time I eat an energy bar whilst riding, my speed visibly increases. Some time later, it drops off again.

The first day off road was hard - bumpy and slow but not unreasonable. The second day was riding through Dinder National Park as I previously mentioned. The first 50 kilometres were similar to the prior day but the road inside the park was just a whole new level of pain. What was good (and bad) was that for our own safety, we were put into convoys. Luckily, I managed to catch the fastest group of riders, arriving just as their convoy was about to leave.

What followed was nothing short of (probable) hilarity. As we bundled down the path at a steady 10-15kmph, Marcel, one of the fastest riders in the tour and a pretty serious racer, had about a million punctures. In his race strong attitude he had bought some lightweight off road 'cross tyres - these seemed to puncture as soon as anyone gave them so much as a sharp look, let alone the thousands of thorns lining the side of the track. (My Marathon Extremes held up well, can't comment on their comfort yet though).

When we finally reached lunch just after noon (lunch at lunchtime, who would have thought), we shoved down a load of pitta bread and talked to Caroline, one of the nurses who was supervising lunch and explained that crossing the park was taking too long in convoys. Being in the middle of a national park, there was no mobile reception and she was unable to reach the tour leaders. Each time we tried to leave, we were stopped by the Sudanese park guards who wanted us to leave in a convoy with a vehicle leading the way. Before we could leave though, we had to take part in some strange ceremony where they awarded us each a laminated badge bearing the National Park logo and shook our hands while we were videotaped. After this, one of the officials gave a speech to a video and then interviewed each of us in turn to get our impressions of the park.

When we finally left, over an hour later, I was feeling the exhaustion and struggled to keep up with the group. As usually happens when I get tired, my balance disappeared and I fell over repeatedly on a sandy stretch of track (the tyre ruts were filled with sand enough to suck your wheels in, the side of the track was hard, dry earth). My legs are now marked with several scratches which make it painfully fun when I try to kneel inside my tent. The group eventually separated and we cycled at our own pace for the remainder of the distance (the day was 130 kilometres of off road approx).

The afternoon sun was beating down and we were running out of energy and water. Many of the riders behind us had given up at lunch, finding the morning terrain tough, and were riding in 'buckies' (or pick-up trucks, as I've always heard them called). Just after I had run out of water, one of these vehicles passed and I gladly took as much water and energy drink as they could provide. The terrain just wasn't easing up and the vibration was making it extremely painful to just hold the handlebars. Easing up on my grip wasn't an option either because that would mean more weight on my legs and my balance was precarious as it was.

I shuffled along at a steady 11-12 kmph and it soon got to the point where the sun was setting. Gisi, a German rider who is one of the fastest women on the tour, had a flat about 15km from the end of the park and I stopped to help her. Soon after, Stuart, one of the strong Australian riders, came back to check if we were ok and we realised that we'd need to pick our speed up to reach camp before it became dark. Stuart and Gisi left me behind (they both have suspension and my arms were pretty much destroyed) and I powered on through the last part of the park, the road eased up just before the park ended.

Leaving the park, thr roads improved considerably (much, much smoother) but I was too tired to appreciate it fully. There was a wonderful section through a village, a small single carriageway which looked just about wide enough for a car, weaving in an out of houses. Every now and then there would be a slightly raised drain crossing the path with a ramp on either side - I managed to get a small amount of air going over a couple of these but would have tried harder if I had a bit more energy). As I rode into the village, my eyes grew hungry for the finish flag since we'd been told at lunch that it'd be 118km. Instead, I pedalled on into the growing darkness for another 10km, looking out wearily every second for any sign of riders. When I finally reached to the sound of applause (customary for every rider who comes in late in the day), most of the riders were still missing, being held in transit from whereever they were picked up on the rough park roads.

Rod and Juliana, a husband and wife duo who are some of the most prepared riders I have met, made it in a short while after I did. As soon as they arrived, Rod curled up in a ball and just lay on the ground - both were extremely dehydrated. Michella, the other Tour nurse was kept busy dressing wounds (mine included). Everything that night ran late, by the time I had my tent set up it was pushing 8:30pm. It also happened that it was my turn on the washing up crew (we have an alphabetical rota) but this was postponed given the hard day.

A lot of riders didn't make it that day - I think less than 20 EFI riders remain. There were a lot of angry faces at lunch and the expection of how difficult the ride would be was much lower than it actually was. The National Park was also incredibly disappointing in terms of wildlife (on par with the terribad safari in Ranthambhore, India) - we saw a couple of warthog and baboons. Regardless, the Tour rolls on. The next day was more dirt and was equally hard. Fazed by the ride through Dinder, the trucks were packed with riders who had chosen only to ride half of the day (by getting a lift to lunch) or not at all. The terrain was a mixture of difficult and was at times almost unrideable.

One section of road consisted of broken earth but the cracks inbetween pieces were large enough to swallow a wheel. One of the Australian riders, Dan, caught a wheel and stacked it quite badly. Several other riders chose to walk that section. Adrian, another of the fastest riders, lost control further down the road and hit a sandy embankment to graze a lot of his right arm. The afternoon eased up slightly and at 110km we hit road again. The sun was burning down again at this point and a Coke stop at the intersection was kept busy by TDA riders.

By the time I reached Matema, the Sudan-Ethiopia border town, it was quite late in the evening, almost 6pm. There was a lot to do (change tyres back to road tyres, get the Sudanese exit stamp, eat, shower) although I ended up sleeping early from ehaustion, waking up early to change my tyres. Human error decided to step in when I was putting in the tube (must have done it wrong somehow) and despite pumping it up to 100psi (maximum for my tyres), it was flat by the time we reached the border (0.5km away). This was no real issue at first because we were standing around waiting for our passports to be stamped by the Ethiopian immigration office. After changing the tube, it turned out that my spare tube was also punctured (annoying) and I ended up trying to patch both. One of the patches failed and the valve on the other tube disintegrated. Just as this happened, they announced we could all go and most of the riders left. Jethro, a South African rider, stayed and helped me sort out my tyre - luckily Paul had a spare tube that fit and I was able to get my bike going again.

The landscape in Ethiopia is wonderful, green and mountainous. That's probably the most amazing thing about the trip so far that makes it so different to most other trips I've been on. The whole country is not very flat so I think I'm going to suffer (but this will probably help my piss-poor climbing ability (as anyone who has ever cycled uphill with me will know)). I've shed most of the excess weight off my bike (rack is in storage, as is the rackbag, may changed the suspension seatpost for a rigid one). Tomorrow is our first mando-day, 2500 metres of climbing. This will be painful.

The mood amongst the riders and staff has soured slightly. Many of the riders who couldn't handle the last few days have decided to go on ahead via private transport to our next rest day in Gonder (where we're heading tomorrow). It's obvious that the staff are being stretched and the Indaba crew (who operate our support vehicles) weren't happy with us today because of the mess on their trucks. The annoying thing (at least from my perspective) is that the mess was likely caused by the people who were riding the trucks - most of the riders still left at the meeting today were those who weren't riding the trucks. Erin, an American rider on the tour who has run a marathon on every continent, says that the last few days have been tougher than when she ran a marathon on Antarctica. Enough said.

Originally posted on the official Tour D'Afrique blog.

Yesterday afternoon there was a flurry of activity in our first 'bush camp' as riders either swapped tyres on their bikes or helped other riders swap tyres on their bikes. The sound of tents flapping in the wind was interrupted only by the constant whoosh of tyres being deflated.

It was with much trepidation that our first day of riding on dirt finally arrived. While last year's riders would have experienced this much earler in the tour (as they entered Sudan), road builders in Sudan have been hard at work paving the main road from the North of the country to Khartoum.

This year, recognising that we were being deprived of precious off-road mileage (or should that be kilometreage), the route was rejigged so that we're passing through Dinder National Park and with that comes two and a half days of unpaved, dirt roads.

Having spent much time contemplating what bike to bring, it is now in Africa that our decisions are being tested. It is virtually impossible to change our choices of bike now.

The dirt began and within minutes you began to wonder 'what if'. The road was composed of fine gravel, corrugated in patches and sandy in other, mostly overlapping patches. Choosing your line wisely was important - to one side of the road the corrugation would shake you hard and to the other you'd be performing the bicycle equivalent of 'swathing' through sand.

When I finally reached the lunch truck, the relative rider ranking was clearly different. Riders with front suspension were (for the most part) smiling, those with rigid cyclocross bikes looked weary from hard work.

The afternoon was, despite much of the same terrain, surprisingly good fun. Occasionally the road would become slightly less 'throw you all over the place if you don't hold on tight with both hands' and more 'go fast' and there were some beautiful sections that rolled up and down. The constant corrugation led to sore forearms (for those of us without front suspension) and you soon forgot any other sores picked up in the last week.

The road took us through a number of local villages and in most of them, villagers lined up by the side of the road to cheer us on. Occasionally we'd cycle past a school building and nearly a hundred children would come out running and shouting. I apologise to their teacher for the disruption.

As I sit here writing at 6pm, there are still riders coming in, nearly 11 hours after they set off this morning. The sky is nearly overcast and there is potential for rain. Dinner will be well received tonight.

The last three days of riding have been quite tough, so tough in fact that I've been putting off writing an update each evening. Tonight though, I wrote a piece for the TDA blog so I'll fulfil my journalistic obligations while I have my writing hat on.

We've had two days of roughly 160km each and then 135km today, of which 85km was off-road (our first encounter with the unpaved). The first day started out slowly, as they usually do after a rest day. Having 30 riders load their kit onto a truck at 6am is never going to be the smoothest operation, especially when it's *all* their bags. I'll probably go into the locker situation more later but they're a necessary pain.

After waiting for ages to load my bags, eating breakfast and then realising I was late, I signed out and rushed to the toilet before I actually left.Not even 30 metres after I turned out of camp, the cable came off my front derailleur (also known as the thing that changes gears at the front) and I spent 10 minutes wrestling with it so that I could use my big chainring. Soon after this, my poor navigational sense led me to take a wrong turn (out of the four turns we had that day, this was the third and barely a kilometre out of camp). Double checking the directions, I turned back and was very relieved when the dinner truck drove past about 15 minutes later.

Eager to make up time, and as part of my new found speed (having almost recovered from my cold and saddle sores), I spent most of the morning cycling as fast as I could with the tailwind and caught up to the bulk of the group just as they reached lunch. I left lunch pretty quickly and caught up with an even faster group. It didn't seem like they were going fast enough though and I thought it'd be possible to overtake them. The law of the universe soon kicked in though (karma dontcha know) and within a minute of overtaking, my front gear shifter fell off my handlebars and I had to pull over.

Luckily no real damage was done but in order to tighten it and the cable up properly, it was necessary to replace the cable. Chris, the trip's bike mechanic sorted this out and it now shifts beautifully. He needed to adjust quite a few parts of the derailleur, something which I wish the mechanics at Cycleopedia in Watford had picked up - I'll be looking for a new bike shop when I get back home.

The traffic was really quite fierce that day and unfortunately there were a few accidents amongst the riders. I won't go into full detail but several helmets were cracked! The heavy traffic also caused several riders to actually cycle past camp and a couple of guys (both British in fact) cycled an extra 30-40km.

That evening, whilst being wary of the scorpions that supposedly shared our campsite with us, the staff awarded plates to the winners of the first section. I was happy to receive a special 'Bad Ass' award plate because of my efforts to continue cycling! It'll be going with the rest of my race plate collection at home.

The second 160km day was tiring too, although the road condition improved later in the day. In the morning I was overtaken by the lunch truck and managed to keep pace with it for some time as it slowed down for potholes. In my eagerness to keep up, I rode straight into a pothole and survived - my bottle decided to jump out of it's cage and explode on the road, leaving a mess of red energy drink.

I was caught in the afternoon by the second fastest group of riders, just as I was about to pull over and take a leak. I decided that this was too much of an efficiency advantage to let pass so I joined them for some time. Unfortunately there was no opportunity for relieving myself for the next hour - we picked up a police escort which took us through a crowded roundabout and town where people were out cheering, clapping and waving to us as we cycled through.

This was amazing and for the first time in my life, I felt like some kind of celebrity. Kids were going crazy and at one point ran into the road, almost closing off the way through. Most were fairly pleasant but they treated some of the later riders quite badly, throwing stones and trying to touch them as they cycled past - not amusing at all.

After the crowds had settled down, I left the group and pulled over - there are no words to describe the feeling of relief that ensued. The rest of the ride was fairly sedate, the only notable sight being some kind of airstrip where there were two wrecked aircraft strewn across the field.

Today was quite different indeed but I'll post the article I wrote for the TDA blog.

P.S. Full Mono since my one of my earphones broke.

Bump, bump, bump, curse.
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Offroad (left), road (right)
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Or should that be Khartoum.
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We're on the eve of our rest day now and I've finally had a chance to glance at myself in a mirror. Shockingly, my appearance remains fairly decent, aside from a fairly haggard beard and fairly messy hair. Neither are a problem though, given the lack of reason to look respectable and having to constantly wear some form of hat (either a helmet or a baseball cap to keep the sun at bay).

This next week of riding is going to be tough - it is one of the two longests contiguous riding weeks we have, seven days of back to back riding. We begin the week with two 160km days of road riding followed by our first (beautiful, hopefully) taste of off-road as we head through Dinder National Park. This park has been shut to the public for nearly a decade and we are quite privileged indeed (we were invited by the minister of that state). We're camping one night in the park, in the fine company of lions (we're told).

After this, we head to the border with Ethiopia, where in addition to kids throwing rocks at us (more on this later), we can eagerly anticipate our first mando-day. Mando (or mandatory) days are race stages which racers must compete in and cannot use their grace days (we are given three grace days to use for our worst three stage times) to cancel. They are mandatory because they are known to be difficult and this first mando day is no exception. The entire day involves 2500m of climbing. I'm hoping that there will be some nice downhill sections but I fear being struck with rocks whilst freewheeling could potentially be catastrophic, if not for the rider but for the bike.

Khartoum has been an interesting rest day. Woken up by the usual prayers at 5am, I was unable to sleep and ventured out to the intersection with the main road near the campsite where several kiosks and stalls have been set up. Walking on the street with my 'Africa-tan' was great for blending in with the locals (if not Sudanese, I at least looked Arabic) and I ate a sugary fried breakfast similar to that in of Dongola - the bread is sometimes called mandazi elsewhere in Africa and is usually topped with sugar.

After laundering our clothes (back to 80% of being completely clean, I'm beginning to think 100% cleanliness is impossible for a non-professional launderer like myself), Adrian and I began our hunt for a post office from which to send postcards back home. At first we flagged down a rickshaw and tried to make the concept of post (Adrian showed him a letter, then made some flying motions and tried miming a stamp) clear. When this appeared not to work, my Lonely Planet African Phrasebook came to the rescue with the Arabic spelling of post office and our rickshaw driver, having asked many other people for further direction, took us to the DHL office relatively nearby.

Once we were there, I queued to ask the DHL receptions where we could post a letter and they gave us the address of their DHL head office in the centre of Khartoum. Another taxi ride later, and we walked into the office to find out that it would cost 210 Sudanese pounds (approximately £50) to post a letter to Australia. Resigned to failure and not wanting to spend much more on the overall act of posting items back home, we were about to leave but asked if they knew of an actual post office - the answer, 'yes but it's far away'. Determined to finish the task we had started, we asked a taxi driver to take us there and to our surprise we arrived at an actual post office in Sudan.

At this point we didn't actually have any postcards with us, having not managed to find any shops that sold them (Sudan is really quite far from the popular tourist track) and it was yet another surprise when we saw stalls in front of the post office selling postcards. It became really obvious that tourists rarely come to Sudan (or at least don't send postcards) because the majority of postcards on sale looked like they had been printed ten or twenty years ago. They also had a variety of tourist guides on offer, 'Sudan - 1999 Tourist Guide'. Anyway, if my parents actually receive my postcard, I'll be satisfied.

Onwards now, Eastwards out of Sudan.

P.S. If you would like a postcard from any particular country that I have yet to visit, drop me a message via the contact page with your postal address and the country you'd like a postcard from. I'll try my best!

With the locals
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Since my last post there was another long day - 155 kilometres, a fairly uneventful day. I rode with Sam again for most of the day, leaving quite early (for quite a large distance we were at the front of the entire tour group) and it took about 70km for the fastest peloton to overtake us.

Today was our last riding day for this section, officially the longest section in terms of distance (whether or not it's the hardest, we'll find out). We started off with a 20km time trial and then rode the remaining 46km to lunch in our own time. After lunch, it was a 40km convoy into central Khartoum to the National Camping Residence, our campground for the next two nights.

One of the other riders commented yesterday that a time trial is known amongst serious cyclists as the 'truth test' since it's a true test of a cyclist's ability and fitness - discounting all the tactics that usually come into road riding (e.g. group riding or drafting). This morning Dave and I went for a short 10 minute warm up before we tapped out and began the time trial in turn. In retrospect, 10 minutes wasn't enough and it was a pretty slow 20km, 35 minutes with a tailwind and I was just outside of the top 10.

I really started warming up 35km into the day - after trying to ride with the semi-fast peloton for a bit and giving up because of saddle pain. Rage Against The Machine was on shuffle on my MP3 player and just after I'd dropped out of the peloton, Killing In The Name came on and with it, a sudden forward momentum. Within seconds I was up and rolling at 50kmph and decided it was easier to keep the pace for the remaining 30km than to take it easy. I zoomed past a good number of riders and reached lunch at 9:20am.

The convoy into Khartoum was easier than the last few convoys since I am now able to sit on my saddle. It was pretty warm and the traffic was heavy but the tourist police did an excellent job of ferrying us through the city. A lot of riders have decided to stay in hotels away from the campground. Those of us who are left are sharing with a huge number of Sudanese youths who are in Khartoum for an under 17s football tournament, taking place all of tomorrow. The youngest rider of the group, Steve, an 18 year old South African, has organised a match of our riders against one of the competing teams. I won't be joining them but might go and cheer the cyclists on.

This afternoon we visited the Afra Shopping Complex, a prominent mall in Sudan. After my experiences of Gurgaon's many malls in India, I wasn't quite sure what to imagine a Sudanese mall as. It was airconditioned as we had been promised but aside from a fast food court (much food was eaten), a large supermarket and a plethora of money exchanges, there wasn't really much to do and we soon left with large boxes of custard creams under our arms. Those small packets in which I bought 64 biscuits in Dongola also come packaged in boxes each filled with 50 packets of 4 biscuits each. Hopefully these 200 biscuits will last me until Ethiopia, to be accompanied by hot chocolate courtesy of a large box of cocoa powder.

There isn't much noise around, only the occasional coughing of another rider, or the sound of a truck passing by. It's 8:30pm Sudanese time, past the bedtime of most riders. Just a few moments ago I was lying down on my sleeping bag staring up through the mesh wall of my tent at possibly the most stunning night sky I have ever seen. We're still in the middle of the desert on our way towards Khartoum (the capital city of Sudan), with two more days of cycling to go. There is nothing but desert and road sight, the only permanent structure is a bamboo shelter cum water point besides which we are camped.

Having lived in a light polluted commuter town near London for most of my life, before university I had never really appreciated the beauty of a starry night. As winter drew in and I walked through the grounds of Fitzwilliam college to my room, I would glance up and notice the sky. Since then, I've had the opportunity to check out the night sky around the world (Alaska: great, Nepal: average, Mombasa: great) but this takes the win. The sheer quantity of visible stars and their relative brightness is unbelievable. If I don't sleep tonight, I think I will be easily amused.

We rode another hard 140km today. This was the second day that the intended race timing system was underway, where each rider clocks in and out using a small radio enabled tag and touching a start/finish sensor mounted to the dinner truck. People have realised the benefit of starting early and I was far behind the curve when I woke up at my usual time and packed up my tent, having to queue for a good fifteen minutes to load my locker up. When I left camp, I was one of the last few riders out, so I put my music on and prepared for a long solo day.

Not more than 10km in though, I was caught up by the leading peloton, the group of riders who have consistently reached camp first. I thought I'd tag along for a while and it was going great - they go scarily fast but in a group it is much easier to keep up. For the distance I rode with them, they'd be powering on at a decent 37kmph average. Adrian, the current race leader, keeps his rear light on for safety reasons. It also doubles up as a marker of some point, as I discovered when, whilst I rode on his tail, he reached the front and started pulling. All was fine until we reached a downhill section and he took it up to 50kmph. That's not impossible speed but I was spinning as hard as possible in my hardest gear whilst watching my heart rate reach 95% of my maximum and still could not keep up. As I dropped out of the group, I saw Adrian's red light disappear into the distance to be seen again only at camp.

I then rode with the second fastest group until lunch and struggled after lunch to return to that sort of pace (too many sandwiches?). Sam, the closest rider in age to me at 21, also found the pace of his group a bit too fast and we rode in some kind of sporadic formation until camp. My saddle sores are supposedly on the mend but still hurt *a lot*, on occasion tinging with a sharp intense pain (imaginably similar to being stabbed), so I'd try and stand often to relieve the pressure.

Camp has been pretty relaxed this afternoon, sitting in the shade and eating custard creams. I am down now to 12. I was alos disappointed that my orange band from the New Year's Eve party we attended finally broke off, not lasting until next December 31st as I had hoped. An entire month isn't too bad though.

Vimto and Champion
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Tonight we're at a 'Canal Camp' although some of the TDA staff have
given this camp an alter-name of the 'dead Camel Camp' because of the
three carcasses of camels surrounding the campsite. We're still fairly
near the Nile but tomorrow will steer away from it and further into the
deep of the desert.

The heat here is like nothing I've ever experienced before. The day
usually starts off fairly cool (in fact, trying to leave my sleeping bag
every morning has become harder and harder. At about 9am, it starts to
heat up (we normally leave camp at 8am) and gets steadily warmer. I'd
hazard a guess of around 10 degrees Celsius in the morning, reaching at
about 40-45 degrees at the warmest, about 2pm in the afternoon. The last
few days I was getting in quite late in the afternoon because of various
'challneges' (not sitting down / punctures) but tried today to reach
sooner to avoid the heat.

Water consumption is a big issue here - we need to drink many litres
worth in order to stay hydrated. Today whilst riding I drank about 6
litres of various beverages (occasional 'Coke stops' are one of the
luxuries en route to camp daily) and was still heavily dehydrated when I
arrived at camp. There are clay pots by the side of the road which
contain water for anybody to drink - I didn't try any of this today but
will to tomorrow. Something about the pots' construction causes the
water to stay surprisingly cool.

The other beautiful aspect of being a touring cyclist is that your
calorie burn is sky high - effectively meaning that you can eat as much
as you like and not gain weight. The sweets in Dongola were amazing, a
pastry similar to blaclava but available in a variety of different
forms. I bought snacks for the week of riding since eating only savoury
food quickly gets weary - 64 custard creams and 20 'Caramelo' chocolate
bars. The custard creams are holding up perfectly except that the fat
person inside me finds it hard to resist them (I've been through about
20 biscuits today already...).The chocolate bars lost their solidity and
are now delicious liquid chocolate.

It's strange that having been a vegetarian all my life (intially beause
my parents were vegetarian and then later because I didn't see the point
in switching), I've been seriously contemplating eating meat. Some of
the dishes that I see my fellow riders consuming look incredibly
appetising, made worse by my insatiable cyclists' hunger. I've resisted
so far and probably will do until the end of the trip but I do wonder if
I'm missing out on something good now. In addition, it's physically hard
to consume enough calories to balance the deficit and despite eating a
huge amount at dinner, I always wake up with a rumbling stomach.

We've in Dongola at the moment, on our second official (or proper) rest day. Another rider has his birthday today, NYC bike messenger Dave Arman, a pretty cool guy - so a shoutout to him! In the middle of the desert, it's amazing what will grow when given a proper supply of water. Dongola and the sides of the Nile are seriously green and crawling with flies.

We're camping at the Dongola Zoo, a bit of a misnomer given the lack of animals present. Dongola is a bit of a dusty town and I'm fairly sure it's affecting my asthma. In addition, I've got a headcold, probably caught from several other riders who have been coughing and spluttering for a few days now. Hopefully by the time the rest day is over it'll be on its way out but the combination of pushing yourself quite so hard whilst being ill doesn't lend itself well to speedy recovery.

So far I'm still EFI - it's strange that this the second time in my life that I've ever actually tried so hard for something (the first time being my end of university exams). Most of the time I tend to roll into things casually and don't mind failure since I don't really try. This time however, I've tried so hard for EFI that it'd be a true shame to fail. I've never heard the question 'how's your ass?' so many times. (Perhaps it would have been wise to white lie about the true nature of my problems, pretending to have a knee problem like I know at least one other rider is doing.)

We've only had three riding days since the ferry to Sudan, this route normally takes four days but has been paved over since last year - Tour D'Afrique decided to shorten it. As I wrote previously, I spent the first day (150km) entirely standing. The second day was another 150km and I was just exhausted by the end of the day. I rode with Dave and he decided to help motivate me by standing up when I was - we altogether managed about 60-70km standing up. In the evening, we had a camp fire running but I headed off to bed early, almost unable to walk. The morning of the final day was an ordeal in itself - it took a lot of effort just to get my tent and bags packed up.

As I rode my bike out to the main road where the day's ride would start, my legs felt very heavy. The racers soon started and as I started pedalling, I realised instantly that my rear wheel was flat. Thinking it was a slow puncture, I pumped it up slowly (with my tiny hand pump). Pretty much being the start of the day, the sweep rider (who rides behind everybody) caught up with my instantly, and Shanny, one of the ex TDA tour directors who is here to help the new directors out, lent me his slightly more beefy pump.

We pumped it up as hard as the pump would permit and hit the road again. Sure enough, 5km later, the tyre was flat again and it was time to replace the tube. Again, the sweep rider caught up with me and we changed the tube, pumping it up to 50psi to bide me by until I got to lunch. Caroline, the sweep rider, went on ahead, thinking I'd catch her easily - in actual fact, my legs wouldn't permit it. No matter how hard I spun, I couldn't top 25 km/h and catch her.

In the end, I never caught her, and after 40km of churning my legs trying to advance, I realised that my tyre was flat again. As I pumped it up by the side of the road in the middle of a desert, I was shocked to see a young Sudanese man walk up across the other side of the road and introduce himself to me, shaking my hand and asking if I needed any help. Once I had pumped my tyre up (and realised that the brake had been rubbing on the tyre for the last 40km...slowing me down massively), I rode with Musab (the Sudanese guy) for a while - he was apparently hunting in the desert, for rabbit and goat. On his clunker of a Chinese bike, he managed to keep up at a good 25-30km/h. His English was surprisingly good and this snippet of our conversation amused me:
Musab- 'Who is your girlfriend?'
Me- 'I don't have one'
Musab - 'Why not?'
Me- 'Because I'm in Africa'
I point to my bike- 'This is my girlfriend.'
Musab laughs.

I rolled into lunch just as they were packing up and about to send a search party to look for me, since the sweep rider had arrived and they had no sign of me. A brief lunch later and I caught up with another group of riders who had all been involved in a huge crash in the morning - supposedly a peloton they were riding in had collapsed and about eight people had hit the road. The nurse's supply of bandages has been compromised slightly but luckily no one was seriously injured.

The rest day has been surprisingly busy with mundane chores that just need to be done, washing, eating and fixing my tubes. This morning I tried handwashing my clothes for the first time ever (our negotiations with the Minister of Tourism to find someone to help us do laundry failed). The clear soapy water I used quickly turned a horrific shade of grey and brown. As I piled clothes onto my hopelessly inadequate washing line, it collapsed and a good quantity of my clothes fell into the dirty, rendering my efforts of the last hour pointless. As Ruben, a German rider said, it makes you appreciate your mother's effort washing clothes - I partially agree but they have washing machines to help them!

I them spent a good thirty minutes using my tiny pump to fill up my now fixed rear tyre. Just as I reached 100psi, I went to unscrew the attachment for my pump carefully. Within seconds I heard the depressingly familiar sound of air rushing out and thought perhaps I was depressing the valve head whilst unscrewing (as anyone who has ever used a Presta valve will know about). I unscrewed it faster and the tyre flattened even quicker - undoing all my work in less than 30 seconds. The valve attachment had unscrewed the inner part of the valve. Oops. I tried again a couple of times but no luck, so I'll try with another pump sometime later.

Well, I'm still EFI, for the moment. Determined not to give it up, I put aside medical advice not to cycle and cycled the whole 150 kilometres today standing up. Most of the weight is transferred to your legs when you stand up, roughly doubling the load on your knees and quads, so I took care to stretch my legs every 10 kilometres or so. At the moment they don't feel too bad but I worry that this is one of those cases where the day after always feels much worse. Tomorrow is another 150 kilometres and the Egyptian doctor I saw said 3 or 4 days of avoiding sitting in the saddle. It's now been 3 days, so I'm comtemplating my options for tomorrow.

Sudan is a beautiful country - unlike anything I've ever seen before. The landscapes are stunning panoramas of sand and rock, reminding me of the Planet Tatooine from Star Wars. (Mental note: put Star Wars soundtrack on MP3 player) It's crazy warm here, and is only going to get warmer as we head further into the desert. My water consumption is beginning to go up rapidly too. The sunset from the camp was beautiful tonight, an array of colour that seems impossible to replicate photographically.

Our camp tonight is by the river Nile. I found it strange but obvious that the Nile should flow through Sudan - years of education have left the notion fixed in my head that the Nile only passes through Egypt. There are swathes of flies around, about two dozen or so are camping on the roof of my tent. There are also some scary looking insects around; when I went towards the trees earlier to discard some of the water I'd been drinking all day, my eyes slowly came to focus in on some floating object right near my face. It took a few split seconds to realise that this was a spider at which point my reflex reaction was to bend backwards as fast as physically possible. No sign of the spider since, and luckily the encounter wasn't messy as it could nearly have been.

Connectivity is good but strangely difficult in Sudan. My Kenyan sim card is now working, and I bought a local number too. The only problem is that neither lets me send text messages to the UK, which renders my Twitter updating almost pointless (I'm now phoning in coordinates to home!). However, the local sim lets me use GPRS at a not-too-unreasonable rate, which I will try once I pick up some more credit in Dongola in a few days time.

I'm on the ferry at the moment. We're currently anchored about a mile off the port of Wadi Halfa, our entry port into Sudan. The overnight ride has been an unforgettable experience.

We rode to the ferry port at Aswan in convoy, which I successfully managed entirely standing up. My legs weren't too tired by the end of it, so I figure the 150 kilometres tomorrow might just be plausible. Boarding the ferry was a complex logistical problem which the Tour D'Afrique staff handled calmly and in the end everything went smoothly. While there were no chickens carried on board (which they had repeatedly referenced last year), there is no shortage of blenders and televisions made in China being transported to Sudan.

There aren't normally enough cabins for the entire group, so it's usually the case that the younger riders are made to sleep out on the deck - indeed I was quite looking forward to it. However, the cabins aren't the cleanliest of places and many of the older riders switched camp. While initially I was looking forward to a night on the deck, as more and more passengers and boxes were loaded, a cabin looked like a more sensible option. Luckily we managed to grab one of the spare cabins left vacant. The deck soon became a curious shanty town of boxes, rugs, sleeping bags and tinny pop music blaring out of mobile phone speakers. Some of the passengers who had evidently done this trip several times, built a fort of their goods around themselves. We joked between ourselves that it would be fun to step inside their fort and observe the end outcome but the menacing looks of the portly Arabic gentleman were enough to stop that idea in its tracks.

The ship is rusty, grimy and to quote one of the German riders - 'Everywhere you look, the ship is moving'. Our included meal on the ferry, yesterday at lunch, was punctuated by the occasional sound of slapping as riders defended themselves from the many insects interrupting the sanctity of their mealtime. The room was no better, seeming initially to be relatively clean. Eric, one of the French riders soon showed us the secret of finding the roaches (lift up the mattress quickly and look in the corner of the bed) and we hatched various plans to try and avoid bodily contact with them. These ranged from finding an alternative place to sleep (as it was though, deck was hugely congested) to sleeping on the floor (it is pretty filthy) to lining the bed with a groundsheet (we had no groundsheet here).

The final solution which I used all night, and which Adrian, my roommate, attempted for a while before giving up, was to sleep inside our tents. I used the inner part of my tent minus the poles, wearing it like a sleeping bag. This worked well enough until abruptly in the middle of the night we were woken up by a tannoy call, 'Tour D'Afrique riders, please come to the dining room immediately'. Struggling to break free of the tent, I eventually found the zip and made my way down the hallway, thanking myself that the boat wasn't sinking in this case. Having gone to bed at 7pm, and having been woken up from the deepest possible sleep, it seemed natural that it would be some obscene hour of the night. However, glancing at someone's watch, it had only just passed 8:30pm! Much less antisocial.

The reason we were woken was that Sudanese immigration now takes place upon the ferry (and not when we arrive - which should hopefully speed the process up a bit when we eventually dock). This consisted of filling out yet more forms inaccurately (when the questions are vague, what hope do you have? E.g. 'Carrier') and duplicating more information. I'm half contemplating writing as illegibly as possible for the next few countries and seeing whether anyone notices. They also took our temperature with an ear canal thermometer. Presumably this was to prevent illness entering the country but if anything, not washing the thermometer inbetween uses probably spread any sickness that was there. After this we queueued for an hour or so to get our passports stamped, after which the official realised that he didn't really need to see us to stamp our passport and just collected them all instead.

Bedtime rolled around again but it was much harder to sleep now. The hunger pangs from our bodies' now-all-eating metabolisms were beginning to strike and it took a good hour to fall asleep. This morning we awoke to see Abu Simbel from afar, a huge temple by the side of Lake Nasser. Now we wait for customs to board our boat whom the ferry captain is repeatedly calling with three long bursts of the ship's horn, deafening those on deck each time.

Accompanied by a beating drum
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Dry
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From Sudan
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The ride into Aswan today was similar to the ride to Idfu yesterday, lots of traffic, fairly smooth roads and quite a fast pace. We rolled into lunch at about 9:15am and then into camp itself at 11:30am. The mornings are nicest time to cycle, I've decided - the winds are usually much less fierce and everything looks much prettier.

It's winter here in Egypt and the weather varies quite massively, from near zero at night to baking hot in the afternoon (no exact figures I'm afraid). Every morning it becomes harder and harder to make the effort necessary to crawl out of my sleeping bag. This morning there was lots of dew - I didn't set up the flysheet for my tent properly last night and most of the inside of my tent was wet as a result too.

I spent most of the afternoon tracking down a doctor to get a professional opinion on my saddle sores. First the local tour company who is supporting us dropped me off to a hospital where I struggled to find someone who spoke English. When I succeeded, the woman who spoke English took me to a group of doctors who were working furiously on one ill looking gentleman on a surgical table. They said something in Arabic which apparently translated to 'come back tomorrow'. After some more time and a taxi ride, I managed to find another doctor who was available. I walked up there to find two people who spoke little English. In their broken English they told me to come back tomorrow. Not wanting to give up, I asked another guy downstairs who told me to come back at 2pm.

I walked around, bought a falafel and came back after 2pm when luckily the doctor had returned. I'll stray away from graphic imagery and tell you that the overall result was that I'm not allowed to cycle for 4 days. I've also been given some fairly heavy duty antibiotics to take for the same time period. The next couple of days are only 20 or so kilometres of convoy riding, which I could feasibly stand up and cycle. However, the next two days are solid 150km days and I fear these might not be rideable. This could be the end of my EFI status.

It's amazing what a single day of rest can do for your body. I was actively feeling the strain in my legs the last few days before we arrived in Luxor and the ride today was almost like starting from fresh. Last night in Luxor, I changed my saddle from the (pretty new and hence unmoulded) leather Brooks saddle to a spare Specialized Body Geometry saddle I had brought with me. My saddle sores are getting quite bad, to the point where I'm on antibiotics and the nurse wants me to see a Doctor as soon as possible! She recommended against cycling but so far I remain EFI* qualified and don't want to lose it until absolutely necessary.

As I was fitting my saddle in the dark, I was surprised by a trio of staff and riders who burst into a song of Happy Birthday and handed me a box of Hohos, a local chocolate cake wrapped sweet (similar to Twinkies in texture). I was so shocked that I dropped the box, no doubt waking up a dozen other riders who were fast asleep in preparation the next day.

The morning ride was 70 kilometres of pure pace (31-32 kmph average), we carried along the same highway that took us to Luxor. I realised today that the river that I thought was the Nile is actually just a side channel of it. Regardless, it's amazing how lush the banks were, compared to the dry, lifeless and seemingly infinite desert. As we rolled up to the lunch truck, we got a stunning view of the Nile itself, shining the bluest blue my eyes would recognise. A life-giving river indeed.

Every rider in the peloton I had ridden in with agreed that we should probably slow down and take a few more photos. It's ironic that individually we were all thinking the same thing but as a group the emphasis shifted to eating up tarmac as quickly as possible. The remaining 50km we took at a much more leisurely pace and stopped several times to-
- Take photos
- Give sweets to children (but only 7 children because I ran out pretty quickly)
- Drink carbonated beverages
- Tresspass on a local market

The last item was quite amusing. Just 5km approximately from the campsite, we noticed a market on the left where pick-up trucks were congregating to drop and pick up produce and local people. It was quite obvious that this wasn't a place on the usual tourist route, so we dismounted and rolled our bikes down the single carriageway on which all the stalls were set up. About 20 metres in, an official looking guard started speaking to me in Arabic (this has happened several times now, apparently I am easily mistaken for a local). I couldn't understand him but after he started pointing to his gun and then pointing to the riders who had gone walking ahead, I assumed that this was a cue to leave. Our understanding of it was that he was quite worried for our safety and didn't want us to get into trouble in the market...very odd.

The final few kilometres took us into the city of Idfu itself, via a bridge over the Nile. The Idfu end of the bridge consisted of a large roundabout which was surrounded by hordes of Egyptians. It was here that some moron in a van decided to try and throw a stick through the front wheel of Gerald's bicycle (a French rider). Gerald sped up and chastised the guy through his open window, quite a drama to observe. Luckily no harm was done but these sort of incidents are likely to become increasingly common as we head further south (I'll explain later as we approach).

The campsite here is a bit grungy, it's a soccer field in the middle of the city. There's at least two mosques on either side (and correspondingly prayers seem to be out of tune, out of sync and extremely loud). I won't go into too graphic a description of the showers / toilets but they are possibly the worst I've seen. The shovel option is non-existent here since our trucks have already left for Sudan, taking the shovels with them. In addition, the soccer field is surrounded by tower blocks of apartments.

I feel quite happy at the moment, I'm listening to a mixture of bhangra music and Coldplay in my home - my tent. I've just discovered two pockets on the walls and I've made a makeshift desk out of my day bag so there's an alternative to the awkward typing on the knees position. It's bedtime now. Last night I was dreaming of smooth flowing singletrack since all the riding so far has mainly been road riding. This whole trip will probably mostly be some form of road cycling too. If there are any mountain bikers reading this, the next time you hit a technical piece of singletrack, drop me a thought!

*I can't remember if I've mentioned EFI yet or not. EFI means Every F**king Inch, and is a accolade given to riders who cycle every single inch of the tour. Quite why it's in inches when the tour distance is measured in metric units I'm not sure. If your bike breaks or injury strikes - or for some reason you're unable to cycle any or part of any day, you lose your EFI status. Roughly 10 or 15 riders make EFI every year and hence it is quite an elite club - about 100 or so riders worldwide.

This has been a very strange birthday - for the last 17 years or so I've been confined to celebrating it whilst attending primary school, secondary school or university. This time however, I'm in a campsite on the edge of the city of Luxor in Egypt.

The final day of cycling before our rest day here was a brisk 90 or so kilometres along a fairly major highway which ran alongside the Nile. Before lunch I joined a train of pretty fast riders as they averaged about 30kmph or so towards lunch. The peloton oscillated from short to long, much like a longitudinal wave, as riders sped up and slowed down in turn. Soon enough though, we reached lunch, at the almost ridiculous time of 8:30am!

I hung about for a bit, wanting to eat more than just the two half pitta breads that the speedier guys were restricting themselves to. Instead, I helped myself to four halves, two with vegetables and two with peanut butter and jelly. Soon enough, my usual riding buddies, Jason and Jen, and Australian Dan rolled up and I just hung about until they were ready to go.

The 50km after lunch was just as rapid as the morning ride and we rolled into camp at about 10:25am yesterday. Most of the afternoon was spent tending to laundry and picking up various essentials (toilet paper, suncream, chocolate). The campsite is basically the lawn outside a hotel, which luckily comes under the remit of the hotel's wi-fi coverage. Essentially, I'm sitting in my tent writing this.

Today we journeyed (by horse and carriage) to the Karnak Temple Complex, a huge site of ancient temples which tower into the sky. It's impressive how large these were built given the comparably less advanced technology the ancient Egyptians would have had! After exploring the temple complex for some time, we walked to and then around the Luxor temple and then walked into the market. It's quite amusing here that many of the local sellers put on Scottish accents. The usual exchange goes something like the following:
Seller - 'Australian?'
Me - 'No'
Seller - 'American?'
Me - 'No'
Seller - 'Scottish?'
Me - 'No, Venezualan'
I've also developed a habit of greeting all the kids we pass when cycling in Swahili. I think once I reach Kenya I'll switch to greeting people in Arabic.

This afternoon I was using my degree in Computer Science to help fix people's computing woes. One of other rider's brand new Asus Eee isn't recognising it's hard disk anymore. Having tried several electrical screwdrivers over the last few days to try and open it, it appears that it was tightened by a robot with superhuman strength! So that she had a useful computer again, I downloaded Ubuntu Netbook Remix, sideloaded it onto a bootable SD card and the little netbook was good to go!

Other than that, this afternoon was more of routine chores, cleaning my bike and collecting laundry. To my relief, all my socks matched up (several other riders lost items of clothing on the chaotic washing lines outside). One point of confusion is that my cycling chamois (the padded cycling shorts) are exactly the same type, size and brand as another rider's shorts. Something to look out for!

Tomorrow we head south towards Sudan, and in a couple of days we'll be on a pretty epic ferry (30 hours!) which is the only official route for tourists to take into the country. Connectivity is likely to be difficult, so until next time, kwaheri! (Or, to be correct- ma'as salaama!)

The last update was written in a bit of a rush from an internet cafe in Safaga. I was running out of Egyptian currency and so my internet time was limited! I spent the afternoon cleaning my bike (not terribly effective but it's less sandy now) and looking for a money exchange. Walking into town, I passed several convenience stores. Since the trip has started, we've been eating a lot (and burning a lot) - whenever I see food now I think it must be eaten! As I walked towards the Bank of Alexandria, I bought and ate some biscuits, something similar to a slice of sponge cake and Fanta in some strange purple colour.

The town itself was quite a sleepy tourist town - there are a few resorts and hotels scattered about and most of the shops seem to be around on the back of those visitors. At 3pm on Monday though, there were few customers and many of the shops were in fact actually shut. The bank was shut but I managed to withdraw some money from the ATM which I promptly used to purchase biscuits (something similar to custard creams but round in shape). On the way back I passed a hairdresser's shop and with my electric razor being a poor excuse for a grooming device, decided to get my face shaved. The hairdresser's English wasn't that great, when I asked him how much, he replied 'It's okay, it's okay!' quite enthusiastically. I just nodded and pointed to my growing beard. After what seemed like an age of spreading shaving foam on my face, he put a new blade in his razor and started work. This was the first shave I've ever had with a loose blade and it was surprisingly decent. After he finished, I was a bit alarmed to see him attempt to cut my hair. I shook my head (while the scissors were held away, or it could have been painful!) and he got the idea, although he still insisted on using hairspray and combing my hair. Hairspray combined with a bicycle helmet results in an interesting hairstyle!

That night on the beach seemed like it might just be the quiet night we were all hoping for. In actual fact, the three dogs that seemed to live in that enclosure were at war with each other (seemingly) and several times during the night they were barking and making various noises of aggression towards each other! The morning came soon enough and we began the 138km fifth stage to yet another desert camp.

The Egyptian riders had forewarned us that the first 40 kilometres were all climbing, and it was with this in mind that we tried to form a group of riders. Trying to maintain a speed of 20kmph with a side/headwind on the ascent was just about manageable and we soon reached the lunch truck at about 10:30am! The remainder, a solid 75 km, was much less hilly but just as strong wind. Our group of riders absorbed several smaller groups and at its largest consisted of sixteen riders! At first we were a disorganised mass of bicycles and people, but Jen, a fairly loud (she admits this herself) Canadian lady, soon organised the group into a more orderly two column peloton*. It was a tough day all-in-all but we pedalled on and reached the desert camp at 2:30pm, giving us plenty of time to unpack, drink soup (a mixture of broccoli, potatos and other vegetables - great) and chill out.

Riders are starting to feel the pain of five hard days of cycling now (myself included) and knees are one of the most common disturbances so far. This happens because people aren't used to spinning (using a low gear and pedalling fast) and prefer to mash (using a high gear and pedalling less often). This is a cycling trait of mine as well, coming from a mountain biking background where there is less constant pedalling and more high intensity bursts, so I've been trying actively to spin more.

Camp life is starting to get quite fun - an enterprising local turned up today with a cooler full of beer which he sold to us at quite a hefty price. Since I don't drink beer, I tried my luck and asked if he had any soft drinks. The answer - 'no!'. We usually have a rider meeting just before dinner where they explain our route for the next day and discuss the next few days of the tour. Today the truck crew had an auction (the currency: cans of beer) of all the items that had been left lying around the truck. Luckily none of my items showed up - trying to fit my bags in the locker may have pushed the door off its hinges...

It's sometime after dinner now, which really just means bedtime. There are flies buzzing around my tent - I figure these are relatively tame compared to the nasty insects that will invade later in the trip. For some reason the Tour D'Afrique trucks were playing Celine Dion's 'My Heart Will Go On' (or whatever that song from Titanic was called). This probably makes sense given that Canadians represent the largest proportion of riders here.

*I realise that I keep using the word peloton and non-cyclists are probably wondering what on Earth they are. It's literally a group of cyclists, taking various formations, where each cyclist is fairly close to those in front and behind. This is more efficient than cycling solo since there are aerodynamic gains to be made - whilst the cyclist at the front works harder, all those who are drafting (i.e. riding behind) tend to save energy because of lower air resistance. The cyclist at the front usually rotates so that riders save energy most of the time.

Just empty.
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Someone's working on it - donate feature should be working soon! Apologies for the inconvenience.

The fourth stage was pretty straightforward (I wouldn't go so far as calling it easy, but relative to the horror of the second stage, then sure - easy). A brisk before lunch run to the lunch truck followed by a brisk after lunch run to the campsite saw us reaching Safaga, a town near the coast of the Red Sea.

This campsite is luxurious compared to our previous three nights - Tour D'Afrique has booked out three hotel rooms for us to shower in and there are GENUINE toilets! We're camping on the beach pretty much, adjacent to a hotel. There's a bar just next to the 'campsite', most of the other riders are busy getting beers.

There's really not much to say about the day's riding so far, so I'll leave off now until we arrive in Luxor in three days time - an 'official' rest day (also my birthday).

Yesterday's entry was cut short by a lack of energy. The ride today was much easier - shorter (all in all, 147km) and much less effort (a tailwind instead of a headwind!). I cycled the first 20 kilometres solo, having been dropped by the faster Australian riders within a kilometre. As we reached a police checkpoint however, the ride came to a halt. The heavy rain of last night had apparently caused the roads to become flooded and the police didn't want us riding down the road. After nearly half an hour of waiting around, we were given the all clear to proceed, ahead of about a hundred waiting trucks. As we spun along the road, the wind helping us along, there was no surface water to be seen. Supposedly the Egyptian police were being overcautious - either that or the sun is incredibly efficient at evaporation in these parts, especially at 8am!

I rode with Alison up until lunch, one of the staff who was on her day off and had chosen to ride for the day. After lunch (more pitta bread) I managed to join a group of riders - a mixture of North Americans mainly. It's amazing how much easier it is to keep up a certain pace when you're riding with other people. On my own, I'd struggle to motivate myself.

You can usually tell something is amiss when you roll into any place and all the riders who were in front of you are just sitting, waiting (as happened in the morning at the police checkpoint). As we reached the finish flag, we were greeted by this sight of riders just sitting, waiting. Supposedly the campsite was actually a further 8km (but actually 10km) down the road due to, wait for it, flooding at the original choice! This alternative campsite is very windy and right next to a police checkpoint. While we can hear the rush of trucks going past, the tent is also flapping all over the place. Luckily there is substantial debris on the ground around the campsite, so it's possible to ground the tent. Putting it up was an interesting experience, if I was any lighter, I'd have been literally blown away. As each pole went into the tent, it became more and more like a sail.

Camp life is interesting, since we wake up quite early daily (most people are awake sometime after 5am) and because we have been riding quite hard, bedtime is usually soon after it gets dark (and/or dinner has been eaten). We've been at 'desert' camps for the last few days now, which don't really have any facilities. Going to the toilet is a substantial effort involving a shovel and a lighter. Tomorrow evening we're passing through a town called Safaga, and we'll be at a genuine campsite with showers (and hopefully, toilets). Dinner at the campsite is usually a generous serving of carbs with some kind of vegetables. It's not the tastiest food in the world though, and I think I'll soon have to burst open the various packets of chilli powder that my mother has equipped me with. Tour D'Afrique has also given us enough energy bars for 2 per day - one of the riders today noticed that these bars all expired in June 2009. I'm not quite sure what to make of that.

It's 7:40pm and I'm sheltering inside my tent. It is wet outside, and getting wetter by the minute. Our campsite appears to be right under the centre of a thunderstorm, which has transformed the many constant winds of the day to the gusty winds of the evening. I'm wearing my pyjamas, with the intention of sleeping soon, should the noise from other riders, the weather and the road permit. Two days of hard cycling have left me with a curious smell, and the dirt from the road combined with the unrelentless sun has embrazoned my arms with fairly linear lines (dirt + tan lines as opposed to just tan lines) where my cycling jersey ends.

Today was a brutal day by all accounts and indeed probably the longest I've ever ridden in a single go in my life. 168km was the overall distance and it started well enough, feeling refreshed from a night of sleep. However less than thirty minutes into the ride, my back wheel started rattling in a strange fashion. I left the peloton of Australians I had pegged out of camp with and went to check the damage by the side of the road - somehow a small pin had managed to work it's way into and through my tyre. An easy enough problem to fix but enough still to lose valuable time. Soon enough, just about every other tour rider made their way past me, each asking if I was ok - a fact I am glad of, useful if anything does actually go drastically wrong.

In a futile attempt to catch up with the Australians, I pushed as hard as I could for the next 45km or so, overtaking most of the riders who had passed me attacking my wheel with a tyre lever in my hand. However, as we came closer to the coast of the Red Sea, a headwind soon picked up. Riding solo was a tactical error and I was soon overtaken by a group of riders all drafting each other - much more efficient. Eventually we reached the lunch truck and I filled up with cheese and peanut butter filled pitta breads (separately!).

Having pushed hard for the morning, the remaining 100km in the afternoon was tough. The headwind endured and became even more violent. The roads became more open and riders were spread sparsely. At about 140km, we had a refreshment stop and then it was full on until the finish. By the time I got into camp, the sunset was very near.

Today was the first and (in my opionion) probably the easiest day of the Tour D'Afrique. It began early, a 4:30am wakeup for a 6am (but actually 7am) departure in a large convoy to the Great Pyramids of Egypt. Once we arrived at about 8:45am, we met with local Egyptian riders who would join us for this stage (or day) of racing, and took many many photos in front of the start banner. The morning was marred by excessive equipment 'failure' - in an attempt to reset my cycle computer to kilometres (which all directions are given in), the reset button became stuck (leaving the screen to flash 'km/h' for the whole day), so I turned to my backup navigational aid, my Garmin GPS unit. Unfortunately this had run out of charge, and a lack of forward thinking meant all spare batteries were behind a locked door. Finally, it was cold in the morning and my heart rate monitor's chest strap failed to make adequate contact with my skin (lack of sweat y'see), giving erroneous readings for the first two hours (220 BPM I think not!).

Soon after this we were underway on our journey out of the city of Cairo. On this leg and the previous we were escorted by the local police who blocked off ramps (we were on the highway) and made sure we were protected from the surrounding traffic. It is likely a feature of all developing countries that drivers must horn excessively (something I picked up many a time on my visits to India, and also visible in Kenya and Nepal). The police are no exception to this generalisation, only more potent in their damage to our hearing - they have LOUD sirens. In addition to their excessive volume, they also have many different types of siren and it was a mildly entertaining game trying to determine which siren came from which vehicle (it is a many to many relationship).

Another two hours into the ride, we finally left the polluted and unpleasant highway to start our journey East towards the Red Sea, which we will follow down for some time until we cut back to the main road to arrive in Luxor. I left pretty quickly (choosing not to stop for a rest break) and was relatively near the front - they were being held up by an over enthusiastic police escort. Once he stopped limiting their speed, they soon shot off into the distance. I was soon caught up with a growing peloton of riders comprising of some of the Australian riders I had met early on. Putting the force down a bit, I was able to keep up with them, only finding it extremely difficult when I was at the front. Luckily we soon reached the lunch truck and my turn was short lived.

The scenery in the Egyptian countryside is starkly different to anything I have ever seen before. The colour of the landscape is, well, sandy. There's a lot of sand. And as far as the eye can see - more sand! The sand is contoured in a way that I'm sure even the most lackadaisical Geologist could appreciate. The sky was deep blue without even the slightest hint of a cloud. It made for some beautiful photos. The tragedy of being a cyclist however is that your motion is effectively powered by you. It seems like a terrible shame to stop unless absolutely necessary since it's your energy at stake. If you're a racer, your pride also stops you from stopping. I'm going to work on my taking-photos-whilst-cycling technique.

After a quick (15 minutes) lunch (pitta breads and peanut butter, surprisingly good) I rejoined the 'peloton' feeling fairly energetic. Sure enough, this feeling worse off and after some time I eventually hit the 'wall' and was unable to keep up. This is probably a good thing since my heart rate was pushing a good 180-190 BPM while I tried to keep up with them. After I dropped out of their group, it was a case of just pedalling on - something I think we will all become quite familiar with in the next 4 months! Some company would have been nice but it was refreshing to choose my own pace again.

It took a good two hours of solo cycling before I reached the stage finish where the trucks were parked. I was quite anxious for the first hour or so because of the sheer lack of other riders overtaking me. Soon enough though, a group of the local Egyptian riders came blasting past on my left, and soon after them, the lunch truck. As I got closer to the rough area where the campsite for the night was, I kept my eyes peeled for any sign of the trucks. When they finally came into eyeshot, it took some time to actually convince myself that they were there!

This first day was 133 kilometres of cycling, about 83 miles. This is the longest distance I have ever cycled in my life so far and tomorrow will be worse - 168 km, over 100 miles. Today wasn't as bad as it could have been, although every joint that has ever ached before in my life was aching at some point throughout the ride. My neck is sore from maintaining a grip on my drop bars - I wonder how sleeping on the floor will help that. My speed wasn't too bad (I think I was roughly 10th out of the male riders) but I was pushing hard for about 60km or so. The plan for tomorrow is just to chug along at my own pace - slow and steady wins the race, or at least reaches Capetown!

Oh and a final word - the trucks that are supporting us are FRICKIN COOL. Photos up soon but between the two of them they've basically got everything to support 60 people. A tonne of lockers, a huge supply of water, bike racks, FAT tyres (and lots of them), containers for food, and some other cool bits.

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One of two.
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So yellow!
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We had our start of tour rider briefing today, a few statistics for your perusal.

22 rest days

96 riding days

14 nationalities of riders

Oldest rider is 71, the youngest is 18

11,704 kilometres a(7315 miles)

Once we leave Cairo, it's going to be hard to stay connected - I will be regularly updating the stats by
text message however. Most of the riders have now arrived, all different ages from a variety of countries.
The strongest country (in terms of rider numbers) is Canada, where Tour D'Afrique (the company that
organises the Tour D'Afrique) is based.

A brief ride out to the pyramids of Sukkara this morning was slow but pleasant, with no major issues
except my brakes locking up as I went over a speed bump too fast. We think that this was because the
brake levers were loose on the handlebars - the impact of landing caused them to move and pull the
brake cables.

At the end of our rider briefing we were asked to choose whether we wished to ride as an expedition,
after speaking to many of the other riders who are planning on casual racing, I made the switch to race
too. The Tour D'Afrique is the longest bicycle race in the world, so it should be interesting to see how it
progresses.

The only annoying thing about being a racer is that there is no set time for lunch - this means that every
minute I stop cycling in order to eat counts against me. Then again, I'm not doing it with any air of
seriousness, so this shouldn't be a problem.

The first day of riding is almost upon us - less than 36 hours now! The plan is to ride out to the Great
Pyramid (see photos) for our 'official' start.
From here it's a lengthy 136km first day. This should be interesting :-).

The hours preceding my flight from Heathrow were possibly the most stressful few hours of my life. Five months away from home is a large amount of time, complicated by the fact that we're cycling for most of it! We left home about forty-five minutes later than we were aiming for (entirely my fault - a last minute shower + shave (possibly the last decent shave until June)), and reached the airport about 2.5 hours before the flight left. Having checked in online, it was a simple case of dropping my two bags and bicycle off. While queuing for the oversize bag drop, I received a phone call from a man at the Watford Observer, a local newspaper, inquiring about my trip!

After a lengthy Italian lunch (a delightful gnocchi) at Carluccios with my parents, I ventured forth alone through the security at Terminal 5 and made it through unscathed. A rushed walk to the gate (since lunch was quite lengthy indeed) and I sat waiting before noticing people were walking away from the gate. A quick search online (via my internet tethered netbook) revealed that our flight was delayed by 45 minutes, a fact which was not displayed on the monitors next to the gate - strange. This extra 45 minutes gave me some much needed internet time and despite looking around every minute to check the plane hadn't left yet, I was still one of the last few passengers to board.

The flight itself was a typically British Airways affair, we were further delayed out of Heathrow because of heavy traffic (there I was thinking flights were being cancelled!). I soon fell asleep though, a result of sleeping for only two hours on the previous night, and awoke some time later to drinks and another Italian meal for dinner (risotto this time). I was a bit confused at the number of people who appeared to be hovering around the immigration hall at Cairo Airport who weren't travellers - it seemed like anyone could just walk back through the desks. My bike was sitting by the side of the belt in the baggage hall waiting for me, looking surprisingly intact.

The transfer to the resort was as dangerous as expected, Egyptian roads being similar to the roads I remember in Kenya. Luckily for another cyclist they picked up and I, they placed our bikes inside the minibus - supposedly the bikes of another two riders were on the roof and predictably fell off! Arriving at the hotel in Giza, there was a clear failure of communication as our escort (who had taken us from the airport) tried to claim money from us (but for what, he could not say). At reception, they could not understand that I'd be sharing with another rider who had already checked into a double room, repeating that he had already checked out (of his single room). This was no doubt true but their booking system (and their grasp of English) was sufficiently abysmal to result in an hour of arguing while they tried to 'sell' us another double room for 3 times the rate we had booked it at. Not acceptable for a '5*' hotel. They finally found the room and I got to sleep at about 4am, after breaking the zip on my only pair of pajama bottoms!

On Tuesday I joined up with a group of Australians who had arrived much earlier to sort out visas and we went to go visit the Great Pyramid, not far at all from Giza. Finding transportation here is quite an adventure - most taxi drivers are 'off' the meter, so it's a question of negotiating the price down. The funny thing is that most drivers will gladly haggle hard but they won't know where you want to go. It's only after you've gotten into the cab, arranged a price and been driven around for a few miles that they will meekly pull over and ask for directions. It was clear each time that this happened that they hadn't known where they were going from the start since we usually ended up pulling a u-turn!

The weather in Cairo at this time is quite cool - getting slightly chilly at night - and it was unfortunate that when we went to visit the pyramids, it was quite overcast. Regardless of how the photos came out, the pyramids themselves are quite an impressive sight. Journeying into the burial chamber of the Great Pyramid itself was quite an experience, walking up with a hunched back something inbetween a ladder and a staircase in a confined passageway. To be fair though, we had a bit of forewarning that this was likely to be the case from the flustered faces of the overweight tourists leaving as we entered.

After walking around trying to find an internet cafe (and finding possibly the dirtiest such cafe I have ever seen), we went for an early dinner to have some of the local Egyptian koshary. Koshary is apparently a staple food here and is supposedly 'a complete dietary dish containing carbohydrates, proteins, fat, vitamins and minerals'. It's pretty cheap too, coming in about 50 pence for a pretty hefty serving. It's perfect food for any cyclist - sort of like a spicy spaghetti bolognaise.

After dinner was a sound and light show on the pyramids where our total lack of preparation for the cold meant that we were all sitting shivering until one of the riders found out you could hire blankets. I was feeling warm enough at that point so I decided to bear it out - it struck me about twenty minutes later and I was shivering for most of the rest of the show.

This morning, after breakfast, we ventured out for a hour long short ride. All went well aside from realising that my cycling computer wasn't working because my front wheel was on backwards. The seat was also slightly hard (it's a Brooks leather saddle which needs to be 'broken in'), which might be the only comfort issue that I can immediately foresee.

A long, traffic slowed, taxi ride to Cairo later, we arrived at the National Museum. A disorganised place, it has some genuinely interesting exhibits (although these are quite reminiscent of my memories of the British Museum's Egyptian section). It seems the ancient Egyptians were obsessed with their afterlife and it put me in a pensive mood about what legacy I'd like to leave on the world. A statue or Tomb would be a bit annoying for the generations after me, and I wouldn't really want it to be pilfered in order to buff up some museum exhibition's contents. Instead, I think I'd want my own Wikipedia page - and not something that would be immediately reverted back to empty disk space. I think it'd involve doing something genuinely interesting so that it would be worth having a biography there for people to learn from. Hopefully it would be useful enough information so that it would stay relevent throughout the course of time.

The other riders are all good fun, many of them also have blogs. Check out the TDA Profiles page to read more about them!

Dinner now, time for more koshary!

Packing for the Tour wasn't the hardest task in the world but it did require a fair amount of thought. I normally eschew the minimalist strategy when travelling, preferring to have options for every possible contingency. In this case however, with limited luggage storage space available (a 85x65x50cm locker ~ 150 litres of useful space) for four months worth of kit, it was necessary to prioritise.

Clothes being the simplest of all items to pack, I left this until last. It seems that if I hadn't had to take clothes then I would have been nicely under the space limitation. Adding a meagre amount of clothes (just THREE t-shirts, for four months of travelling!) filled out my duffle bags by a surprising amount.

The rest of the space within my two bags was composed of both camping equipment and bicycle equipment. The camping equipment consisted of a lightweight tent, a sleeping bag and thermarest which take a good proportion of one of the bags. This bag also stores most of my clothes.

The other bag contains a tonne of cycling spares (tyres, cables, chains, tubes etc) plus some 'rarely needed' clothes (for example, my swimming costume). It also includes various cycling accessories - such as the rack bag, bottles, lock and Camelbak I'll be taking from day to day on my bike.

My third bag contains my electronics. In the last few years I've gradually acquired more and more camera equipment with each trip abroad (photos here). However, it seemed unwise to cycle along the rough African roads with my D-SLR in tow since vibration would probably kill it slowly. At the same time, travelling through most of Africa is an unmissable photography opportunity. So I've taken both cameras with the intention of leaving the D-SLR in the van when I'm cycling. I decided against taking my wide angle lens and Gorillapod in the end because of the added bulk.

I'm taking a netbook because it'll be useful for writing purposes (I find it impossible to write anything significant on paper - my fingers just get in the way) and for backup of photos. The battery will last approximately 10 hours and we have weekly rest days on which I hope to charge it fully. Likewise, I will charge my camera batteries then.

I'm taking a handheld GPS device to provide the location updating that you can see on the Geo page. This runs on AA batteries and each set of batteries lasts (supposedly) 25 hours. I figure this should give me two or three days of usage at least if I was to tracklog all my riding. These batteries should be fairly easy to find on the ground.

In order to keep in touch with those back home and to update my coordinates (we'll see how well this works out), I'm taking a couple of mobile phones. Rather than take my smartphone, I'm taking a basic Sony Ericsson featurephone which has relatively better battery life. I have a solar panel which I can use to charge these via a Powermonkey (this is a self contained supplementary battery which can charge and be charged) - the Powermonkey can also take power from the mains or via USB from the netbook.

Finally, I'm taking a flash based mp3 player since my hard disk Walkman would almost certainly not survive the first month. This represents a cut in capacity but coupled with the ability to swap music from time to time using the netbook, this should suffice. This has a 25 hour battery life and can charge from either the Powermonkey or the netbook.

I wonder how the above reflects on the nature of our generation - that instead of embracing the opportunity to leave technology behind entirely, I've seen the more hostile operating environment as a logistical challenge to be solved.

Addition
Having arrived in Cairo and spoken to some of the other riders, the above chargin strategy seems sound except with one possibly useful addition. One of the other riders has the Solargorilla, this is the more heavy weight version of Powermonkey coupled to a solar panel - apparently it charges his Macbook in about 2 hours. They're quite expensive but for that sort of convenience, it's probably worth it!

Delicious.
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We're leaving for the airport in an about an hour and a half. Nearly everything is packed, but there remains a lot to be in done. In particular, the Geek On A Bicycle site isn't quite finished yet!

If you're on Twitter, besides following myself, you might also consider following TDA Live, which is the official Twitter account of the Tour D'Afrique.

Goodbye from London and speak to you next from sunny Egypt!

I'm happy to announce that as of yesterday, I managed to get the second of the two visas I need in advance of the trip.

A summary of the countries and their visa requirements:
Egypt - Possible on arrival
Sudan - Need visa beforehand
Ethiopia - Need a visa beforehand
Kenya - On arrival, but preferable to arrange beforehand
Tanzania - Possible on arrival
Malawi - No visa required
Zambia - On arrival or arrange beforehand
Botswana - No visa required
Namibia - No visa required
South Africa - No visa required

Of the two necessary to arrange in advance, the Sudanese visa was the most difficult. I abhor the amount of bureaucracy that is necessary to obtain access to their country. It took several visits to get my Indian visa because I was an informal volunteer (as opposed to volunteering through a formally arranged scheme) and the bureacrats at most embassies can't deal with special cases.

In any case, it seems Sudan is an exceptionally difficult country to gain access to, I hope it's worth the effort. In total, I visited the embassy five times before walking away with my visa. Over summer when I contacted them (being some sort of pseudo-organised traveller), they mentioned it would take three months for the visa application to be processed. After struggling to download the form from their virus infested embassy website, I made the trip in person and dropped off the form.

Roll along to October, approximately two months later and Tour D'Afrique decided to tell us them when to apply for the Sudanese visa. While none of this information was in the registration pack they sent us some time ago, it seems we were supposed to just wait to be told what to do. With their email, several letters of support (one in Arabic) and a magical authorisation number were given. When I contacted the embassy about my original application, they answered with all the enthusiasm of a graveyard shift shelf stacker and told me there was no sign of it. So much for being organised.

On my return to England in December, I called up the Sudanese embassy to find out what the best way to apply was - the lady on the phone said 'it's up to you. Do what you like! It makes no difference to me.' Helpful, neh? I went in person armed with all the various letters of support, only to forget the necessary passport photographs on my desk at home. After an hour of cycling around trying to find a photo booth (which had all conveniently been removed just previously), I rushed into the visa office with minutes to spare before it shut for lunch. At this point the bureaucrat at the desk told me that they required some kind of 'certificate' from the organisation in Sudan which my tour was affiliated with. Facepalm moment, oh yes.

I reread the various emails we had been sent and contacted the TDA office, realising that I had forgotten the magic 4 digit authorisation number. Another long trip into London and I got into the office just after it opened. This time the gentleman behind the counter nodded and told me that, much to my relief, my passport would be ready to collect at 3pm.

This gave me about 6 hours in London to kill, much of which I spent at Condor Cycles, looking on at all the various shiny bike bits they have and buying brake studs for Calamity Jane. After eating lunch with Phil and checking out some of the (superb) exhibitions on at the British Library, I went to pick up my passport. A quick glance through the pages confirmed my luck - I had a Sudanese visa!

The Ethiopian visa I attempted on my return from our family holiday to Mombasa. This was supposedly straightforward but blocked as soon as the lady behind the counter read my form. 'You need an address. An address where you will be staying!', I tried explaining to her that we wouldn't be staying in one place and that the accompanying support letter outlined the route we would be taking. This seemed to irritate her though and she started getting visibly frustrated, 'You please just write on the form where you will be staying in Addis Ababa. There is box for you name on visa form but your name is written on letter to. You do not write to see support letter in box for you name.'

I understood what she was saying and wasn't sure what address to put down, a quick email from an internet cafe, while I was photocopying my passport, to the other group of British TDA cyclists yielded some help and it seems that they had simply written what was on the letter in the box. I did the same, which seemed to satisfy this bureaucrat and when I rocked up at the embassy a couple of days later, she handed me my passport with a smile and wished me a good trip to Ethiopia.

P.S. I'm aware that the titles of these last few posts have been rather dull and will endeavour to improve their creativity as time progresses and the subject matter of these posts becomes more interesting.

P.P.S. Did you know Ethiopia is the land of coffee?

P.P.P.S. I understand that post scripts are redundant with modern computers but I like them anyway.

While I'm away cycling, it's likely I'm not going to be very well connected at all and as such, my good friend Phil is going to act as my 'tech support'.

If the site breaks, feel free to drop an email to webmaster at geekonabicycle dot co dot uk and one of us will pick it up.

Phil is also responsible for the build of Calamity Jane (the bike I'm taking to Africa) - helping massively with component choice and pretty much building most of it! He'll be posting from time to time as well.

The Tour D'Afrique is a fairly substantial physical challenge, and I've tried my hardest to train appropriately. Unfortunately, my travel plans of the last three months (i.e. living in India) have made that difficult. In addition, for those keeping track of my injuries, sometime just over a couple of weeks ago, I dislocated my right shoulder for the fifth time. It reset itself as I was strapped into the stretcher on the way down from the piste.

This is a recurring problem - despite surgery to 'fix' the problem. This was the first dislocation since the surgery so it is the question of concern is whether any further permanent damage has been done. My shoulder consultant has recommended for an arthroscopic MRI next week, so I'll report back once the results are through. With any luck though, it'll just be a case of physiotherapy. If it has been damaged then more surgery may be necessary.

It has since returned to a fairly normal state and I've been trying as hard as I can to train in Mombasa, whilst enjoying the full range of the resort's buffet meals.

Jogging on the beach-
Painful! I was using trainers that aren't really running trainers - gave this up pretty quickly after a combination of foot pain and late nights meant that early morning runs were unfeasible.

Gym-
The resort had a reasonable array of exercise equipment to use and I visited it about five times, for about 1 to 2 hours. Concentrated mainly on the recumbent bicycle and treadmill - the normal cycle had an incredibly painful saddle. My shoulder ached a bit on the treadmill after a while but once I started correcting my posture, it was much more comfortable.
Pressups and core exercises were a bit more wobbly but doable in slightly smaller sets of repetitions.

Tennis-
Raquet sport is an obvious danger area for shoulder injuries and I approached the game with fair caution. There was no pain though, and the only issue was a slight loss of fine control since the ligaments in my shoulder are now looser than normal. In actual fact, my forehand stroke seemed smoother as a result.

Cycling-
We managed to borrow some hard tail mountain bikes from a family friend. Cycling on the beach was quite difficult - I can see sandy surfaces becoming quite problematic. Cycling on the (decent) Kenyan road outside the resort was smooth - although the occasional potholes and speed bumps mean that some kind of suspension is desirable. I locked out the front fork to gain an idea of how my rigid cyclocross bike would fare and am quite happy that I invested in a suspension seatpost now! The heat is also going to be an issue - in the middle of afternoon, my shirt was quickly soaked after about five minutes of riding at my usual pace. Will definitely have to look into hydration packs this week.

To astute observers, you will notice this post has been given a fancy new tag 'goab'. To those of you reading this on geekonabicycle.co.uk, you will probably wonder what I am referring to.

This is, essentially, the first post for my new website, Geek On A Bicycle. To those of you reading this on hypedark.co.uk, you will probably wonder how it ended up here.

To explain - both sites share the back end database since it would be far too much effort to post things twice. However, Geek on a Bicycle (GoaB from now on) will only show a subset of all posts on Hype Dark.

Primarily this website (and blog, as I am loathe to call it) on geekonabicycle.co.uk is here to document my journey with the Tour D'Afrique 2010 as we travel from Cairo to Cape Town by bicycle.

This is a journey of nearly 12,000 kilometres and will see us pass through ten African countries. More details can be found on the route page.

Most of the rest of this site is self explanatory. As a career Computer Scientist, and someone who likes to be deliberately different, I couldn't bear to use a customised Wordpress site, so this is hand built (just like my bicycle - more details on the equipment page). As such, it is likely to be prone to breakage (hopefully not like my bicycle), in which case you may contact the webmaster who will be connected and able to fix things.

Anyhow, I hope you enjoy reading my updates - please add the site feed to your feedreader / browser or check back regularly!