Dutch volunteers paid for Tia, the orphanage director, along with Peter and Daphne, who give her tremendous support,to have a break and come to Europe, including visiting us here for a few days in Spain. It has been a privilege and a blessing for us to welcome them here and introduce them to some of those who have supported Thamsanqa. We arranged a wine and cheese afternoon which was in no way spoilt by the heavy rain that decided to arrive- for one day only- on that very day! To hear straight from Tia herself, how life is in the township of Motherwell, what are the challenges faced and how she deals with them , what her aspirations are, is a riveting experience.

I have been asked how a monthly donation could be made without any bank taking a cut, so all money would go to the orphanage. I think we have now solved this problem; if anyone is interested in doing this, please contact me. Eventually, I hope to put details on the blogsite.

I never posted any photos, as promised, of the finish of the TDA in Cape Town. Belatedly, here are a couple.

30k to Cape Town and not looking pretty!

Minutes later with Table Mountain in the background.

I have been enjoying cyling  again with the local Benissa cycling club on a Sunday and with English/German friends twice during the week. But yesterday I decided to do a solo ride.

I wanted to head out to Castels de Castels on the super new road that has opened at last. From there, I passed through Famorca and Facheca – two villages I keep meaning to stop and explore. But not this day; I had too far to go. I wanted to go to L’Orxa (Lorcha).

Taking the road to Tollos, the smell of pine in the air was quite strong. Beniaia is a hamlet a few kilometres further on, the two streets lined with pots of geraniums. I wanted to stop for a bite, but the only bar there is closed Monday-Wednesday. So I continued , past Margarida towards Planes. Just before entering the town, you take a right, signposted Beniarreis. Skirting the town, there is a great view of the castle, originally one of many that  formed the barony of the local Moorish overlord, Al Asraq. ( I took what I thought was a wonderful shot, but I found out when I got back  that the camera was in video mode!)

The  descent to the Beniareiss reservoir is fast; I recorded my fastest personal speed of 71 kph. In Beniareiss itself, I stopped at a bar for fried eggs and black pudding. The bar was buzzing with local people. As with Spanish bars in general, service was quick and pleasant and I was soon back on the bike.

From the reservoir, the River Serpis snakes it’s way through the valley towards Lorcha, some 8 kms. away, allowing small- scale market-gardening in the rich earth. Approaching Lorcha, there are mountains on all sides. It is easy to miss the impressive castle of Perpuixent as it stands proudly on a hill with a steep mountainside as a backdrop, into which it blends. This again was in the hands of Al Asraq. In 1269, after his fall from power, the town and castle passed through various hands, until 1288 it was donated to the Templar Knights.

When the Moriscos (Moors) were finally expelled from this part of Spain in 1642, the town had no more than 30 houses, but was repopulated with Majorcans, as were many villages in the area.

Lorcha has a more recent claim to fame, however. In 1892, businessmen from Manchester opened a narrow gauge railway from the port of Gandia to Alcoy to open up a market for the sale of coal. The company operated 8 locomotives, built in Manchester, but each named after one of the 8 stations on route. Though the line closed in 1969, the route is a splendid way to walk or cycle though stunning countryside.( see http://www.billnot.com/trains/agframe.html)

I meandered through the quiet, narrow streets of Lorcha for a while; the only sign of activity was shown by a group of pensioners, playing cards outside a bar.

Unless you want to retrace your steps-God forbid- the only way out of lorcha is to climb the mountain on the narrow, tarmacced road. It is better not to know what is ahead when you make this climb on your bike; so I am sorry to be the one to spoil it for anyone who might now be tempted to ride it, but it is a nasty one! But, on top, you have sweeping views down the valley. Descending  into the Vall de Gallinera, unless you stop, you will miss the views as you pull as hard as you can on the brakes to keep control. Soon you arrive in Benimeli and enjoy the ride down through the valley.

Through the Vall de Gallinera, Benirrama in the foreground, the fire lookout point on the mountain top.

This will be the last time I shall cycle through the afternoon in August. The heat is draining and brought back some unpleasant memories of cycling through the heat of Sudan.

Distance 149 kms.  Time cycling 7hrs12mins  Average speed 20.6kph

On Wednesday, Tia took Carole, my wife, Damien, my eldest son and myself, to see the four houses that form the orphanage, and meet the children and housemothers.

I know that the orphanage has had terrible difficulties in terms of funding and ensuring that the children continue to get the care and love they have been getting . So I was amazed at how many improvements had been made . Not only has the fourth house been fully integrated, but fencing now protects all the houses; cupboards have been built in so the children no longer need to leave clothes on the floor; standards of tidiness have been raised.

Dutch volunteers, sent over by the wonderful charity Be-more, clearly help enormously. Whether they help for one, two or three months, they always leave with a great sense of attachment, inspired by the work that Tia and her daughter Louise do.

The children were still at school when we arrived, apart from the very young ones. One of these youngsters, who was not there when I helped out last year, was soon giggling as Damien  played with her. Like all the children, she wanted the warmth of contact, and the attention. This poor child had cigarette burns over her body and clearly had mental scars to match. Damien was a little shocked I think, when he realised.

But the 28 children  in the orphanage are really the lucky ones. Altogether, Tia is currently helping and monitoring 300 children in the surrounding area, through the team of 26 volunteers she has trained. These are children that are seen to be at particular risk at the moment. Of them, 100 are orphans. Although she has no room in Thamsanqa for them, she will seek to place them where they are safe.

When the older ones came back from school, we all congregated at one of the houses and ate soup together, made the night before by Tia and Louise. It is quite upsetting to see the children growing up while knowing that there is, at present,  no future for them. I know that Tia’s dream is to be able to get children to university.  She has shown that dreams can be turned into reality, but for the moment, getting food on the table is the more urgent priority.

I have been so grateful for the wonderful support over recent months. Tia has told me that without the money we have been able to send, they would have been unable to carry on. Personally, it has been a very tough few months; your encouragement has meant so very much. There were times when the effort was almost overwhelming. If nothing else, the  journey has made me well aware of my age!

But let us make a clear distinction here: for a short period, we can put up with almost anything. People like Tia and Louise are in it for the long haul. Most of us, when we retire, look to put our feet up and enjoy a hard-earned rest.

I feel greatly humbled when I see the efforts being made by Tia, and people like her, to remedy the ills in our society.

On our flight home, our journey was broken by a night in Dubai. Can you imagine a greater contrast? I remarked to Damien how unhappy some of the folk staying in the hotel looked as they made sure they got their money’s worth, anxiety creasing their faces. Yes, said Damien, but you know, you are like that too, Dad!

PS I will have lots of photos later.

May 11th. Springbok to Garies.

If we were here in July/August time, the land for over 100 kms north and south of here would be covered in low, brightly-coloured daisies. It was hard to imagine this morning. Perhaps because we are now accustomed to warmer climes, but this morning was cold. I wore a fleece and thick, waterproof jacket over my cycling vest, and full-length gloves. Cloud and mist hid the mountain tops and we got some drizzle. But the rolling hills presented unusual rock shapes and was pleasant.

I have been delighted today; my ribs are no worse for cycling. They may have even improved.

It is noticeable how much some of us are putting weight back on, now that we have more ready access to “naughty” foods. Indeed, the TDA is helping us- tonight we each had two small cakes and Henry had bought us wine!

All thoughts are on C Town, yet the four days of riding yet to do seem to put the end well in the future. The start in Cairo seems to have been in a different era.

Distance 113 kms  Av.speed 25.3 kph  Time cycling 4 hrs. 45 mins.

May 12th. Garies to Vanrhynsdorp.

The rolling hills warmed us up nicely. The magnitude of the landscape is hard to take in. It is semi-desert, or scrub desert, with occasional tracks meandering away to far-off homesteads, way  beyond our vision.

The first town we come to is the one we are camping in, that is how remote the area appears.

I am far more excited about reaching Cape Town than I ever was about starting in Cairo. The race is already decided, so even the racers can relax. Almost a festive air hangs about camp. This morning, the pole on the opposite side of my tent broke, but I could not care less.

So many times recently in camp, I have heard riders ask each other, how can we ever explain to anyone what this trip has been like for us. It is as though each and every one of us will always have this memory card within us that we will never properly be able to transmit. We have been warned that we will find it hard to readjust to our previously normal lives; that I can understand. But we will have been enriched and strengthened by the experience, and I doubt that any rider will any longer harbour melodramatic ideas about life for people in the countries we have passed through. Values will have been re-assessed and will cause a lot of heartache for some, no longer able to turn a blind eye to the world beyond their natural boundaries.

There wasn’t time to dry my washing tonight. My trousers had become very inflexible and badly needed washing. But the night air is cool, so i have been forced to walk around in long johns and swimming sorts tonight. Fortunately for you, there are no photos.

Dist 155 kms   Av speed  23.1 kph  Time cycling 6 hrs 27 mins

May 13th  Vanrhynsdorp to Elands Bay. What a day!!

Today should have been a fairly comfortable day, just 112 kms

The town of Vredendal, about 20 kms. from our camp,  is the centre of the wine-growing industry of the Namaqualand area. Carefully tended vineyards, sometimes edged with palm trees, appear as an oasis in the wilderness. But more important for most of the riders, was the Wimpy restaurant, into which we all piled, around 9 am. I noticed Paddy demolishing a large T-bone steak with ease. The americans like to mix it, so a waffle and bacon is common, for instance. After fiddling with my bike computer, which I could not get to work, and then using the toilet, everyone had gone on ahead of me.

Normally, I take a photo of the day’s route instructions, but today I did not, thinking I would be staying with a group. I was enjoying the ride through the vineyards, until I came to a T junction which made it clear I had gone wrong. After many enquiries, it became clear I had missed a turning onto a gravel road, some 20 kms. back. The only problem with this was that the sweep, ie the TDA rider whose duty was stay behind the last rider, would now be in front of me.

The gravel track headed in the direction of Lambert’s Bay, where we were to get our first view of the ocean since seeing the Red Sea in Egypt. I had to go slowly for fear of shaking up my ribs, or worse still, coming off. The track rose gradually to a plateau. The wind was blowing and temperatures had dropped. I just needed to keep going until I saw the lunch truck, and then get directions. Well, the lunch truck found me first. They wanted to give me a lift some 10-15 kms. to catch up with the sweep.

By now, rain had started, but there were only a few kms. to the village of Lambert’s Bay, on the Atlantic. We could see nothing because of the mist, but there were still riders in a restaurant there. The most popular item was the log fire. But the pea soup was good, as was the muffin.

Dan and Steph were riding together, so for a while I rode with Michelle, the sweep. As the mist lifted, we could see the pure white sand of the shoreline, contrasting with the red sand of the track, and we could hear the roar of the ocean, smell the seaweed and salt. Then we got views of the waves crashing in

There is a railway line that follows the shoreline. It is 861kms. long, built to carry iron ore. The interesting thing about it is that, when fully loaded, with about 300 trucks, it goes south to the port of Saldanha solely by gravity. (See below for entry in Guiness Book of Records).

Cycling into the little village of Elands Bay, I had already decided that I must get a room. My clothes were all wet and my tent would be useless, camping on the beach in the wind and rain. Just before joining the others on the beach, I met Franz and Carolina cycling the other way with their bags. They told me that all the rooms in the village were taken, but would I like to share the apartment that they had managed to secure. What a Godsend! I got my bag from the truck, and set off in the rain to join them, about 200m. out of the village. Just as I was getting off my bike, there was aloud clanging behind me, and there was the world famous train passing our apartment!

Tomorrow, we will follow the coastline for 146 kms. for our last day before Cape Town. I can hardly believe this is really happening.

Dist. 112 kms (my distance:140kms). Time and speed unknown.

Entry in Guiness Book of Records.(Record set in 1989).

Length of train 7303m

Gross mass of train 71,210 tonnes

No. of loaded trucks 660

May 14th. Elands Bay to Yvesfontein.

The ground was saturated this morning and a heavy mist obliterated the adjacent cliff edge. Our route started on a sandy track which took us to the other side of this cliff. Other riders kept sticking their arms out, indicating that I may want to take a different route, like yesterday. (Actually, another rider, also an Eric, went further than I did along that road than I did, and we haven’t yet seen him since!!

We passed where the small fishing boats were kept, by buildings seemingly built on the rocks that get hammered by the ocean. There were cranes, or grabs, that I assume were for lifting and lowering the boats in the water, but I could be completely wrong.

At 12 kms. we were back on tarmac- no more dirt!- and with a light breeze at our backs sailed through the mist, sometimes getting a glimpse of the ocean. At 40 kms., it looked like it might have cleared up. there as a coffee shop there, that most riders stopped at. As I was about to enter, a car stopped, and the driver got out to ask me what was going on, where had we come from and why. I explained to him about the Tour, and why I was doing it, and he instantly put his hand in his pocket and gave me R100 for the orphanage.

At 60 kms., the lunch truck was waiting with hamburgers – two each- which were delicious. But the rain clouds were gathering again and it was cold. (The temperature when we left camp was 13 Celsius). In the cold wet conditions, cars had their headlamps on. But seeing the signs for Cape Town brought a lump to the throat and strength to the legs.

Only as I arrived at camp did the weather look to brighten up. Quite a no. of riders have taken rooms, to enjoy thier last night..

My wounded tent can support me for one last time. After a hot shower and some rearranging of bags, we had our last rider meeting at 4.30. Everyone was in great form. Wayne had bought some wine and beer for his birthday, which helped a lot! Awards were given out for section and race winners, including an award for Rick after winning the last stage- I am so pleased for him. There were spoof awards too; I was given a “Where am I?” award. I shouted back that I was not around.

We have been given lots of instructions to make tomorrow go according to plan. We will cycle 60 kms. to lunch and then travel together in convoy for the last 30 kms. into Cape Town.

I thought i had reached the age when one no longer gets excited over things, knowing from experience that we older ones cope better with a more constant type of mood. Here I am feeling like I did at boarding school, as holidays approached, over 40 years ago.

Distance 145 kms   Average speed: fairly fast   Time: stood still   (My computer did not work! ).

May 15th In from the cold.

Our last night was the coldest night of the whole four months. Everything was damp from the previous days’ rains. For the first time on the trip, I got inside both the liner and the sleeping bag. But I ended up getting up during the night to put on what clothes- and shoes- I had in the tent with me. As I was doing this, I must have touched the sagging tent roof and i felt a stream of water down my back.

When we got up, the temperature was 2 degrees. Many of the riders had on their cycling shoes which were still sogging wet. I decided to keep on my ordinary shoes for the ride in.

The plan was to ride individually the  60 kms. to Kreefte Bay, which is on the outskirts of the western suburbs and from there, ride the final 15 kms in convoy.

At first light, well-wrapped, we set off in ones and twos, still pinching ourselves that we were finally getting to the end of this four month odyssey.

The road in goes straight, over flat ground, so within 10-15 kms. we could see Table Mountain. On our right, the Atlantic Ocean was rushing in to greet us The sun, so often a stranger recently, came out to embrace us in it’s uncertain warmth, and the bright sunshine allowed us to make out the first faint images of the city, cuddled up to Table Mountain.

The dinner and lunch trucks were set up on the sandy beach of Kreefte Bay. As I turned off the road, on to the beach, there were Peter and Daphne to greet me. I was choked.

The TDA had put out a lovely spread for us and we were hungry. Riders were running down to the surf and lifting up their bikes in the air in jubilation. An army helicopter kept skimming back and forth over the incoming waves, Robben Island lay in the backround. Nearly everyone was wearing a Tour d’Afrique shirt, given to us by the TDA to mark this occasion. I chose to wear my Benissa shirt: I started my trip with it, and I wanted to finish with it.

The police arrived and we started out in convoy. TV camera units buzzed up and down our lines, as we started our final surge.  Members of the Suburbs Cycling Club, led by Keith Ravens, brought up our rear.

Briskly passing through the lovely suburbs, we joked and shouted to waving  well-wishers, heading for the famous  Cape Town Waterfront.  I needed to keep taking deep breaths, to keep my emotions in check. Sweeping into the final bend, I saw Carole, Damien and Tia waiting. It was over.

PS We will be going to Thamsanqa on Tuesday or Wednesday, after which I hope you will allow me to once more assail your inbox, with a winding-up order!

Photos to follow, or click here for TDA site.

Best wishes,

Eric