March 18th.  3rd rest day in Arusha.

I don’t know why, but during the night, two (of the three) tent poles snapped. But I soon had it sorted with duct tape and sleeves.

The fat tyres need to go back on, ready for the dirt coming up. The front tyre catches the fork now, but according to the mechanic, it is the tyre, not the rim, which is out of shape. It will wear away soon enough.

During the course of the day, riders arrive back in camp from their various adventures. Twenty four had gone to the Ngorongoro Crater, twelve staying in a lodge, twelve in tents. They were all amazed by the variety and abundance of wildlife, as also with the setting. The twelve who stayed in the lodge looked fairly relaxed. Those who stayed in tents, however, looked rather tired.

March 19th. Back on the bike.

Some riders, back from safari, leave for a few days in Zanzibar. Their bikes will be carried on a rack over the cab of the dinner truck.

Leaving Arusha means dodging through the terrible traffic jam before passing coffee plantations, the small airfield and out into the lush countryside. Before long, a cyclist comes alongside, Alan Benn.

Three years ago, Alan’s wife died after a lengthy illness. Rather than brood, he signed up for the 2008 TDA. That was the year that there were troubles in Kenya and the riders had to fly over Kenya, to Tanzania, and spend two weeks there. He met a local woman, and, after finishing the TDA, ended up marrying her. He now lives in Arusha, coaching local cyclists and running off-road cycling tours. He indicated the 3000m mountain over to our right; he regularly cycles up there, where there are plenty of animals and no tourists. Arusha is surrounded by National Parks with unlimited opportunities to game drive. I do not in any way feel like I am missing out by not taking advantage of these opportunities. If I was younger, then I would do. As it is, I need to keep focussed on my goals; there will be no surplus energy.

Our camp is at Lakeview campsite. There is a tantalising view of a large lake in the distance, but the campsite is just a field, in which there are toilets and showers, but no running water. Nevertheless, a tank of water and some buckets is used with relish. There are a few huts nearby, hence the enormous amount of flies; these local villagers put up a canopy and bring in drinks with a cold box. This impromptu bar creates a relaxing ambience for us. Later, after dinner, they put on a little show- drums, singing and playacting.

Distance: 107 kms.  Av. speed: 25.5 kph  Time cycling: 4 hrs. 11 mins.

March 20th. Lakeview camp- Lembe school. Mando day.

We knew today would be hard. All on dirt, 1200m climbing. The flattish road, passing through small villages, is being widened and will eventually be tarmaced. Big water pipes are being laid across the track, causing many diversions. In some places, large waterholes have been excavated and the soil packed thickly on the track. Any vehicles that pass us, envelope us in dust. After 50 kms., we start climbing. The hills are densely forested, the valleys less so, with small fields of mainly maize, and groups of banana trees. The heat builds. At the 60 kms. lunch stop, there is an air of resignation. The hardest part is ahead of us.

Sure enough, there was a long, tough climb, through tropical forest. I stopped on the way up to cool down and have a pee. You would think there was not a soul around. But straightaway a man on a bike appears and just stares at me. Then a few children, casting furtive but friendly glances. sit down on some rocks a few metres away. Clearly, the pee will have to wait. How I would like to know what they are chuckling about!

Despite the heavy climbing, these unspoilt mountains, sheltering small communities of folk in their simple huts or houses, lifted all our spirits.

Knut had stopped for a coke along the way, and came out to find his bike computer missing. By chance, the dinner truck was passing, driven by Gert, who speaks Swahili. He addressed all the villagers there and remarkably the computer reappeared. We have not felt the need to be too careful here in Tanzania. But during the night, a number of water-bottles went missing from the bikes. Before I fell asleep, I heard the villagers singing for about half an hour.

120 kms.  16.3 kph.  7 hrs. 25 mins.

March 21st.

The 61 kms. to lunch started at about 1500m. Mist glided over the tree canopy to rest in the valleys. A number of villagers were out clearing the water gullies alongside the track.

The very bumpy track led us up and down hillsides, with one particularly spectacular descent, offering panoramic views and taking us over many watercourses, most of them dry. In one large riverbed, a hole of about a meter depth had been dug, down to the water level, and women were washing clothes in it.

Though huts are seemingly few, rarely were we long without seeing someone, whether it be children  shouting greetings, men with adzes over their backs, women with firewood or food on their heads.

Traffic is rare, apart from cattle and goats crossing the road, in which case you head straight through them, or the occasional bus, when you need to just get out of the way, because they give no quarter and do not slow down.

Few wild animals are noticed. So intensely do we have to watch the track that an animal would have to come to the roadside and wave at us to be noticed.  By lunch, the constant jarring and vibration was taking its toll, especially to our hands and wrists. After lunch, sand became the worst obstacle, deep soft sand. Sometimes you just had to walk it; if you hit a pocket in the wrong gear, you risked losing all momentum and coming off.

There was a coke stop at about 80 kms.,where I stopped with Adam, Eric S and Pete. Now, tall Pete is as affable and easy-going a character as you could wish to meet. But he was getting a bit hot under the collar as the woman couldn’t understand that he wanted 2 cokes not one. A simple thing, but under the heat and stress of the day, your patience shortens. I found it interesting talking to Pete one night; a few years ago he set up a cancer foundation, mainly for leukemia. It is very active and I know he spends quite some time on it. This ride, for him, is to help his foundation.

Arriving in camp- in my case about 4 pm-  but considerably earlier for the racers- the dinner truck still had not arrived.(The rack carrying the bikes had broken and needed welding; some of the riders will come back to damaged bikes unfortunately.) Now for a lot of us, our lockers are on that truck. That means nothing to clean ourselves with, no tent to put up, not even a cup and cutlery. All we could do was sit around and wait. When it arrived an hour later, it got properly stuck at the entrance to the field. Eventually, we were allowed to go over and get our stuff, as it would take a while to free the truck.

So there was little time for anything. Dinner and bed.

March 22nd. Early start to Dodoma.

From now on, we can put our gear in the truck lockers at 6.15 and have breakfast at 6.45, i.e.half an hour earlier. This is a welcome move. The sooner we can get going in the morning, the less sun-exposure we have.

Everyone takes off when they are ready. I left about 7.10.

Dodoma is the administrative capital of Tanzania. A few hitchhiked instead of riding. They got an early lift with a Presbyterian minister, in his air-conditioned car, arriving in the capital by 9.30. So they are the only ones who know what the place is like. (Apparently, it has a centre which betrays some wealth, but otherwise is just a laid-back, normal African town).

The rest of us rode to a small motel on the outskirts, where we can camp on their grass. I arrived soon after 2 pm. desperate to get washing done and my laptop and camera charged up. I went straight to the dinner truck and started extricating my tent and baggage from the locker, when Jeff came in to get something.”We got a room”, he said. “They are only charging 25 dollars for a double”. I thought for a moment. By the time I get my tent up, and do the washing, how much time will there be for drying?

On principle, I am here to camp. But let’s be practical. I stuffed my tent back in the locker and went to reception. Just one room left!  I asked her to show me it. The toilet did not flush, there were no towels and the basin needed a strong knee against it to hold it in place while using it. “I’ll take it!” It cost me £10. But I soon had the washing out drying, days of grime removed in the shower and I felt justified in treating myself to the most wonderful ice-cream, that a vendor was selling in the street. Then my soup, a coffee, and a beer in the bar with Steph, Reuben and Leah. Leah joined us only a few days ago  as a sectional rider. As a reporter for a large Canadian newspaper, she will have plenty to write about.

It is now 10 pm. My washing is dry and I should be asleep.

Distance:113 kms.   Av. speed: 19.7 kph.  Hrs. cycling: 5.42

March 23rd.  Dodoma to bush camp.

For a couple of weeks now, I have noticed a lot of the locals shouting out what sounds like “baboon” when I pass, often. with a laugh or chuckle. As it seems not to be happening to anyone else in the group, I decided to ask Ali, our Kenyan driver, what he thought- had I changed so much??? He explained that African men normally do nothing at all once they reach fifty; they sit around and get ill. What they are shouting is “Baboo”, (unsure of spelling), meaning grandfather, more out of respect and surprise. I am still not happy that they can spot my age from a long way off!

Hardy is a big, friendly German that has cycled a lot. Recently, he cycled from Germany to Peking with a friend, unsupported, and then on into Russia, covering 19,000kms. So I welcomed his comment at the end of today: he had felt tired all day as the effort of five consecutive days begins to show. The ride was actually very pleasant, but the surface was again bumpy and very sandy in parts. After lunch, there was a tiny coke stop.  We drank warm coke in an octagonal shelter, with benches for about eight of us. Just behind us, a lady was cooking meat in a pot over a charcoal fire. She was running a “hotel” I was told.

Approaching camp, heavy clouds ranged on either side of us. As I was putting up my tent, a shower started, accompanied by the most magnificent,full rainbow, Children are using our camp as a playground, mesmerised by this circus of strangely-dressed foreigners.

As usual, any food left over after dinner, is passed to an elder who will distribute it fairly.

Although we have passed the half-way mark time-wise, tomorrow’s lunch stop marks the halfway mark in kilometres.

I am finding it difficult to describe accurately our daily experiences, because when I come to write up the blog, I am so tired.

Distance;93 kms.   Av.speed:  17.6 kph   Time cycling:  5hrs. 20 mins..

March 24th. Bush camp to bush camp.

Shortly after leaving camp, we passed through a village where, already, there were animals and lorries scattered about the large open area and children were playing football. It looked like a market day and sure enough, for fully fifteen kilometres, we were to see small groups of goats or cattle being driven along the track in that direction.

Punctures and falls are so common that we take them for granted. But some riders have been cursed by them. The thorns are very sharp and can be long. They embed themselves in the tyre and are hard to detect. So it is common enough that one rider will get 5-6 punctures in the one day. Falls and crashes are also common. We always look for the smoothest part of the track, so we are constantly changing our position. Turning into heaped loose gravel in order to cross onto a better surface is when often a fall results. A motorcyclist, in a grey suit (!), was coming my way. I was on the wrong side of the road, but I was not about to risk moving just at that point. For him, it would be much easier. But he did not realise till too late that I was keeping my line. When he did try to take action, he was going too slow and came off. He was agitated. You might think badly of me, but I did, quietly, find it rather amusing.

As we topped a small rise, the wonderful view of a lake opened up below us. We crossed the dam wall and on to lunch at 54kms. The track had not been too bad and yet we all feel tired. Then Jenny mentioned that the temperatures were getting up to 39 degrees during the day. Tony added that the temperature in his tent last night was 32 degrees. I thought I had a fever last night, but it was actually just the ambient temperature.

This afternoon, cloud came over and kept the temperature down somewhat. But the last hour I was not the exception as I pedalled from memory. But our camp is on a hillside, from where you can look across a vast flat expanse, that we crossed today, over to the lake, looking like a silver thread edging the dark mountains behind. A light wind is blowing. Eric Defour offered me some water to wash with. He has a little cache in his locker. Although I only used a few pints. I feel like a new man. Tomorrow will be our seventh day in a row on our bikes. We badly need a rest day. Tomorrow is relatively short, so we should get into bustling Iringa very early!

Distance: 99 kms.   Av. speed: 14.4 kph   Hours cycling: 6 hrs. 47 mins.

March 25th. To Iringa.

During the night, it threw it down. It was still raining at 5 am so I decided to give it a little longer, and fell asleep again. When I awoke, at 6, the rain had practically stopped. I did not waste any time taking down my tent, for fear of missing breakfast, but I did notice that another tent pole section had splintered.

The chances of getting to Iringa very early were dashed by the news that the first 20 kms. is a climb, and the last 20 (but on tarmac!) would also be a climb.

As we set off, the mountains were covered in mist which turned to light rain at the top. But I loved the freshness in the air and the cooler temperatures.

Sunflowers and maize are still the predominant crops, grown without machinery. The few houses/villages that we saw were, like all of them in Tanzania, clean and orderly, no matter how simple and basic.

We have arrived in the bustling town of Iringa to stay in the grounds of a girl’s secondary school about 3 kms. out of town. Most of the shops are of the small shack style.. I do not hold out much hope of a new tent pole.

We have a day’s rest here tomorrow, or rather, a day not cycling. Then we will head out to the main road for three days to the Malawi border.

Right now, I am going to find somewhere to eat. On the rest day and the evening before, we have to find our own food, so here goes!

I must just say again, how much your comments mean to me. It is like having friends along on the ride. I always read them straightaway when I get internet, and they give me a big lift. So thank you!

Quote of the week: “Are they cold?” (Shouted by every rider coming up to a coke stop).

Best wishes

Eric