Leaving Castells.

Once on the bike, the body started to warm up. Approaching little Famorca, the first light was coaxing the colour from the mountains, stirring me from my sleepiness.

Morning light, Famorca.

Some of the villages in this area are very small, where they would struggle to get numbers up for a whist-drive. The next village, Facheca, is a bit bigger. Then the fast descent, with the distraction of  the broad Seta valley on the left, towards Tollos.

Village house, Famorca.

There is a climb and then a fast descent into the one-street, idyllic village of Beniaia. The taverna, El Llogaret, had just opened at 9am and I was grateful  for a tostada and coffee. A lunch or dinner in the Arabic-style little restaurant  would be rather pleasant I think.

Restaurant at El Llogaret.

Passing through neglected orchards, some with apples, or perillones, a  cross between apple and pear , I skirted Margarida, diverted up to Catamarruc and back, then on to Planes where I turned left towards Gorga.

I wanted to stop at Balones and see the Saint Francis caves, the ruins of the Iberic settlement of Pitxocol and the Castillo de Seta. But time was running out, and a couple in Balones suggested I visit the Castillo de Costurera, a few kms. on.

An asphalt track leaves the main road, and as you climb , the castle quickly comes into view, looking down from it’s proud pinnacle. Somehow, I missed the track where I should have dismounted for the walk up to the castle. The track I stopped at was much further on .

Castle at Planes.

The running shoes I had brought for this purpose had not seen a pair of feet for about 15 years and soon, as I climbed the mountain, a blister formed on the back of my heel. To get over this mountain, I had to go some distance higher than where the castle was and take a steep descent. I should have turned back, but something- call it stubborness- stopped me from doing so.

I could now see the castle; I had to go down to go up, not realising till too late that there was something of a gorge at the bottom. Having negotiated this, I was soon able to scramble to the castle. What had seemed so impressive from afar, gave little satisfaction close-up.

Castillo de Costurera.

Now I had to get down to the track and get back to my bike for the rest of the cycle. I was hungry. Nature was on hand. There were wild figs and better still, wild blackberries growing alongside the track. They provided me with the sweetest moment of the day.

Cycling distance: about 80 kms (ciclometer not working).

Walking distance: a few kms.

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

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.

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

Sat. May 8th.

Today, the riders will be cycling to Felix Unite, a campsite on the Orange River, some 12 kms. from the border crossing at Noordoewer. There they will have a rest day before crossing into S. Africa. I was told by TDA staff as well as the staff at the Schutzenhaus, where I have spent two nights, that I would easily get a lift to the border, so I booked a room for tonight at a place in Noordoewer, intending to join the group again tomorrow. Well I waited four hours outside the petrol station on the B1, the road going south. I was ignored or, when I asked people who stopped to fill up, they had excuses not to be able to help. But finally, two young men in a lorry, said they could drop me at Grunau, which is about halfway. They were on their way to Pretoria to pick up potatoes, to take to Angola. Just past the service station at Grunau, there is a left turn which leads to a different border crossing; this is the way these two men were going. Waiting in front of the service station, not many lorries passed and those that did, were going to the left or drove straight past me. It must have been about 4.30 when I asked a driver who had pulled in if he was going to Noordoewer. Yes, he was, at 6 am tomorrow.. So I went into the service station and asked if I could sleep inside in my sleeping bag. Blow me, they had rooms and food to eat. They allowed me to ring the lodging in Noordoewer to cancel, I ate well, was allowed to use their computer and I have a lovely room, all for about 24 euros – plus a wake-up call at 5am. I shall be in Noordoewer for 8 am and at camp shortly after. Isn’t it amazing how sometimes when you can see no way out, it just presents itself ?!

Sunday, May 9th Getting to Noordoewer.

The room last night was really nice and I left a note to thank them for their kindness. I thought it would be ungracious to mention that I had managed to kill 8 mosquitoes during the night and had run out of time to finish the job. I was out the door by 5.30 – but the lorry had gone. I asked every lorry that called in for fuel. Soon, one driver said he was going to Noordoewer but how much would I pay. We agreed on 30 Namibain dollars (about 3 euros) and we were on our way. He was carrying hake from Walvis Bay, the Namibian port to the west of us. He explained that 20 lorries, each carrying 19-20 tonnes of filleted, iced hake, left Walvis Bay each month. From the ship, the lorry had 20 hours to get to Johannesburg airport, from where it was all flown to Madrid!  Each consignment cost the Spaniards 300,000 euros. Hake is also coming from C. Town, P. Elizabeth and Plattenburg Bay in S. Africa to be flown to Madrid via Jo’burg. After 5 days cycling on dirt, the riders were camped by the Orange River, at Felix Unite camp. They had enjoyed the scenery and were all excited at being only six days’ cycling from C. Town. The campsite is set high on a bank, looking over the bending river to S. Africa. It is good to be back with them. I do not know whether I was right to leave for a few days or not, given the difficulty of getting back. At least I did get a good rest for two days. I am going to try getting on the bike again the day after tomorrow for a half-day. If that goes OK, I will continue with full days. Whatever happens, I intend to be on my bike for going in to Cape Town.

May 10th. Felix Unite to Springbok.

We crossed the river to go through customs on the S. African side. From here, the road winds up 1500m. onto the mountain plateau. This is desert country; there are no trees and although there are some interesting boulder formations, the landscape lacks the colour and contrasts that Namibia offers. Low bushes, on the other hand, cover the ground in yellows, greens, blues and purples. The road is straight with hardly any traffic and there is a cold wind. Springbok is the only town, as I understand it, between here and C. Town. We are camped a few kilometres out of town. I am going to cycle in to see how I do. At least I will know how I am for tomorrow. On Saturday, about 1.30pm., we will form a convoy to enter C. Town. I am hoping that my wife, Carole, and eldest son, Damien, will be there – hoping there are no flight cancellations – as well as Tia, Peter and Daphne. It is going to be an emotional time for all of us, I imagine. Never again will we be together as a group and in most cases, never again will we see each other. After four months, living cheek by jowl, it will be a hard break to make. But we will be going back to loved ones, a lengthy rest, and time to think.

I got up at 5.15 after an uncomfortable night. I did not dare use the cot, knowing I would break it trying to get up. I walked to the gas station to post the blog. As the first rays of light hit the surrounding mountains, their vertical crevices, like fluting, etched black against the purples and reds of the rock face. Already, those going to Sossusvlei had left. The air was very cold and they felt perished in the open vehicles. Nonetheless, the general verdict when they returned, was “spectacular”.

After washing my laundry-twice, because the first time the line came down in the sand- I spent a lazy day, just reading. In the evening, I ate in the bar with Paul and Reiner. We shared a bottle of wine, which felt so luxurious, and chatted mainly about Paul’s work at Minnesota University, especially into viable farming systems.

As we settled in our tents, a chorus of bird-like cries rose up from jackals nearby. During the night, I tried to turn, felt a sharp pain and heard a snap- perhaps a small ligament or tendon-  in the ribs.

May 4th. Sesriem to Betta. 139 kms.

I got up particularly early, to give myself plenty of time  to pack up my things .I got in the dinner truck with Caroline, the medic, Sam, who was riding from lunch, and Gabrielle, who was going to ride but found problems with his bike this morning.

During the first two hours, we saw more animals than I have seen in four months: herds of springbok. zebra and oryx. On one occasion, two male springbok were running along the track straight in front of us. Then they veered off, one to each side. The one on the left kept pace alongside us for fully one kilometre at 60 kph., his nostrils flared fully open, gasping for air. Black-backed jackals loped away as we approached. A pair of bat-eared foxes stared at us as we slowed down, before cautiously leaing the roadside. Ostriches skittered away in a flurry.  The zebras we saw were of two types, the mountain zebra and the Birchell’s zebra, which has some brown in its marking as well as the black and white.

At the lunch stop at 8.30, Caroline gave me a heavy jab in the bum with a fast-working anti-inflammatory, which eased the pain considerably.

We got to camp here at Betta by 10.15. There is a gas station, a shop and the small campsite, nothing more- very similar to Solitaire.  Power is produced by the wind and a wood stove They have 5 rooms at about 18 euros per person. I have taken a room for myself so I can rest up all day. After tea and apple cake in the shop, I went to bed for an hour. What sheer indolence, indulgence….and incredibly nice!

Riders found the first 70 kms. hard, with a choice of corrugation or loose sand, and some headwind to deal with. As a result. about 13 riders got in the lunch truck. For those that continued, they were repaid by a better surface and a heavy tailwind.

The wind is strong tonight. I am glad my tent is not being put to the test.

May 5th. Betta to Konkiep Lata.   159  kms.

A mando day for the riders, following yesterday’s pattern of a very tough first half, followed by easier conditions after lunch, saw Marcel come in with the fastest time. He did it in just under five and a half hours, averaging over 26 kph, all off-road.

I got a puncture- in my bum again this morning! Caroline’s injection has made the day easier. We arrived at this camp, in the dinner truck, at about 10 am. The rooms that are available are Wendy Houses, just two or four beds, nothing more  But that is fine, since all I want to do is lie down. Since I am clearly not going to be able to race for a few days at best, I am going to try to go ahead to the border and just rest well for a couple of days. Maybe then I can try to ride again in S. Africa, where the roads will be smooth.

I shared the Wendy House with Bill last night. He took another look at my ribs and straightaway diagnosed a separated cartilage i.e. the cartilage that should connect the rib has become detached.. It is common amongst rugby players, but is not serious. It will just be painful for some time.

Perhaps I should mention that the lovely lady who runs this camp makes the most incredible chocolate cake!  With opportunities like this becoming more frequent, we must surely be starting to put weight back on!

May 6th. Riders, Konkiep to Seeheim (126 kms); me to Keetmanshoop.

The TDA staff were going to get supplies from Keetmanshoop, so I got a lift with them. I am going to stop 2 nights here before hitching a lift to the border, where I will find the camping ground (Felix Unite). I will spend two nights there, the second day with the riders who will have a rest day there. Hopefully I can then continue with them through S. Africa on my bike.

I am upset not to be riding this part of Namibia, which we all like so much. It is possibly my favourite country. It would be easy to forget the distressing poverty we have seen in other countries. But they will be forever etched on our minds. No more will mud huts in glorious sunsets signify for us a romantic setting or way of life. It signifies a cruelly hard existence, with no chance of rising up from it.

I was interested to read in a local paper today, this Yiddish proverb:”Everyone is kneaded out of the same dough, but not baked in the same oven”. It struck me quite powerfully because of a conversation with Jason last night. He wants to raise money when he goes home for some youngsters he met that want to go to university in their own countries. What interested me most though, was the true story he told me of a rabbi addressing his congregation: he first explained that only one-tenth of the world population had a decent standard of living, as they themselves enjoyed. The other nine-tenths lived a hard, precarious life, affected by disease, malnutrition and natural disasters. So, he asked them, if you were given the chance to be re-born at the end of your current lives, knowing the odds in favour of you being born as one of the nine-tenths, would you take it? He paused. Then, he added, that if they chose not to be re-born, thay should be doing all they could in this life to help those less fortunate than themselves.

Keetmanshoop is a very small place, but it has a good variety of stores. Most people about town are coloured or black. If I was feeling in better shape, I would love to go walking in the surrounding bush. The apparently barren landscape always throws up surprises. Instead, I have contented myself by looking in what was the original mission church here, but is now an interesting museum. This town was first settled by tribesman who found a muddy spring here. It was later the scene of conflict between the tribespeople and the German colonial masters, just before the 1st. World War.

At the beginning of the 2nd World War, two German geologists took off from Windhoek into the desert in order to avoid internment. Their story of survival is the subject of the book I am reading at the moment. There is a world out there, full of life, that we could never imagine. Meanwhile, I am stuck in a backpacker’s lodge- a very good one, I must add- licking my wounds!

May 7th. Seeheim to Hobas. 177 kms.

The riders will have quite a long day today. They will start off from alongside the Fish River, which at that point has little water at the moment; I know that because we crossed it yesterday to get here. I am not sure, but I think that where they camp at Hobas tonight  will be about 30 kms. from the Fish River Canyon. This is said to be the most awe-inspiring sight in the whole of Africa, the canyon being the biggest in the world after the Grand Canyon. It was the sight I was most looking forward to on this trip. But even if I had continued with the group, I would have had to cycle to it, something I am incapable of at the moment.

With my enforced spare time, I have been doing an evaluation of the trip so far.

My main aims were:

1 To complete the trip.

2 To avoid accident or mishap.

3 Not to lose anything.

4 To camp all the way.

5 In doing all the above, to draw attention to the tremendous work being done at Thamsanqa orphanage and in the surrounding area of the black township of Motherwell.

Well, I will complete the trip, even though i am forced off the road for a few days.

I haven’t avoided accident and mishap completely, but given my propensity for inviting trouble, I have done well on this account I feel.

I have lost water bottles, gloves, cycle computer, a micro-fibre towel, washing line and on one occasion my temper. Also weight. Nothing of great value.

When the lorry did not turn up in Gondar with our luggage and tents, I went into the hotel there. At the moment I am in lodging for health reasons. I would hope you would agree that i have done OK  in this respect

I have not mentioned Thamsanqa too much, because I believe my blogsite makes it quite clear why I am doing this trip: I have always hated camping- and this adventure has reinforced that! – as also anything which is organised. So it was always going to be my motivation to help Thamsanqa that would pull me through. I am so looking forward to seeing Tia Wessels and the children again, and that wonderful couple, Peter and Daphne, who are such staunch allies to Tia. I stayed with them when I helped out at Thamsanqa last year, and I am hoping they will have room for Carole and I when we get to Port Elizabeth.

Reading the Namibian paper, the Economist, last night, it was interesting to note the concern they have here for the state of the S. African economy. Thousands of  South African businesses are going into liquidation each day. So I can well understand why Tia Wessels is finding funding so incredibly difficult. I wish my efforts could have done more to help. There are still a few who promised to support me and hopefully will come through with something. I intend to keep the blog going at least until we leave Port Elizabeth, so I can relate how Thamsanqa is doing.

I apologise for going on at perhaps too much length. This is what happens when you get time on your hands!  I better go and have another look round that museum!

Best wishes,

Eric

April 29th  Rest day in Windhoek

When I got back from the mall, the sky was darkening. I got the tyres changed, ripping one inner tube in the process, and got the essentials like the chain complete. I almost forgot my laundry, but got it inside just as the first drops started falling, at 5.45.  Within a few minutes, we were back to the usual caper- thunder, lightning and very heavy rain.

But I am sat on my cot, a towel across my lap and I have a bag of bread, cheese, fruit, both dried and fresh, nuts and cake! So what do I care if it pours down outside!

April 30th. Off to Weissenfeld camp.

Eric Defour was in his tent right next to me. I heard him up in the night trying to divert the water getting in.

By morning, you would not have known it had rained. After packing up, I started to fold my tent up. A pole snapped. So did my patience; I got ready to throw it. Eric Defour persuaded me not to and I managed to fold it up into its bag.

 After breakfast, we had our rider meeting, when we were introduced to Henry Gold, the founder and owner of TDA. He will be accompanying us to Cape Town.

Then it was time to get going. I had my bike ready; I just felt the tyres out of habit; the front was flat. After changing it, I was the last to leave. Heading in the direction of Walvis Bay, the first 10 kms. were on tarmac, taking us up higher into the hills- or, rather, mountains, as we climbed from Windhoek at 1700m to a pass at over 2000. Baboons ignored my passing, perhaps mistaking me for a big snail.

The terrain surprised us. We had expected it to be flat. Furthermore, there was plenty of green still, as the rainy season is only just finishing. Another surprise was how hot it was.

The dirt track was generally good, but where there was loose sand and gravel, it brought back memories of darker days.

Our camp site really is in the middle of nowhere. The owners run a small stud farm and a guest house. The feeling of the place is of homeliness, self-sufficiency and not rushing. We are camped round the back.

Talk around the campsite now turns much more towards Cape Town, discussing our plans, and comparing our feelings. Have we, or our attitudes, changed; what will we do after this and so on.

I opened up my tent, and, even with the broken pole, it has taken its normal shape. It has just had a stiff test, as, once again, we have been hit by a thunderstorm and the rain was savage. With only two weeks to go, I know I can manage no matter what happens now.

Distance: 115 kms. Av.speed: 17.8 kph  Time cycling: 6hrs.30mins.

May 1st. To Solitaire.

Paul and Jim heading towards the first mountain

Hail, headwinds, corrugation and wet sand, we have had it all today….but for me, this has been possibly the best day of the Tour so far. I feel more alive than I have done for months.

I was one of the first to leave this morning. The turbulent skies marauded above the desolate rolling bush. Our direction was heading for some mountains. They could have been covered with heather, in greens and purples, such was their beauty. The sky had every shade of blue, but over this mountain range, the dark clouds appeared contorted in anger, like a huge oyster shell. Further westwards, the light reminded me of paintings of the Ascension of Our Lord, an ephemeral light from the heavens down to earth. Lightning was flashing over the mountain, as if warning us to keep away. Well before we reached there, water was running down the track and ponding. The sand was mostly saturated, making it a little difficult to push through. But the setting was intriguing and bewitching.

Water flowing down the track after the storm

By the time we reached this mountain, the storm had moved on. We weaved our way up through the range to where our lunch truck was waiting for us, at about 60 kms. Everyone was cold and a new storm was brewing. So how welcome was the sight of a hot drink, the first time on the Tour at lunch; the first time we have needed it!

As riders began cycling away, the now dark skies chose to soak us again. We had some climbing to take us to the top of the pass. I cannot say just why, but I was loving it. Perhaps it was the sense of freedom the landscape gave me, the strength I felt, I don’t know. There was some hail both before and after the top of the pass, but once at the top, the view was breathtaking. The road before us dropped 500m. within 4 kms. into a wide valley, green, turning to yellow savannah further out. At the far side of this valley, I could see a line of white, with one solitary mountain completely white. I now believe this is due to the sand.

View from the plateau before the 500m descent

Halfway through the valley, five of us stopped at Gecko Lodge, a simple place, where it was pleasant to take tea and biscuits and gather strength for the final 30 kms.

The white mountain

Rising gently out of this valley, you could again see the white expanses with hills rising up from it; I was reminded of lumps of Christmas pudding set in white custard.

Like Xmas puddings in white custard...

Our campsite is by the gas station, a place called Solitaire Lodge. The setting is reminiscent of Arizona, according to one of the Americans. There is a Wild West feel to it. But ther4e are simple rooms for those that want them, a bar, cold showers and toilets, but wait for it…. a BAKERY! We had been told that this bakery makes the best apple crumble in Africa. So before showering, bike washing or any other menial duty, most of us traipsed over to the bakery for crumble and coffee. We will all testify to it’s magnificence, and that of all the other pastries and muffins that were flying off the shelf as they came out of the oven. Not as many people went for seconds at dinner tonight!

Approaching Solitaire

Distance 122 kms. Av.speed.:17.7 kph  Time cycling:6 hrs.56 mins.

Me in Solitaire Lodge campsite

May 2nd. Solitaire to Sossusvlei Camp. (80 kms.)

The track from Solitaire continues, the width of a dual carriageway, towards Sossusvlei. The surface is mostly very good indeed. Another storm in the night had cleared to give a beautiful day and we all enjoyed good speeds. Many of us saw oryx, springbok and giraffe early on.

On a particularly fast stretch, where I was doing about 40 kph., I suddenly hit deep, loose sand. The bike took a wobble; I thought I had it under control., but then lost it again. As I came down, the handlebars smacked me in the ribs. This was the only real damage, but it hurt. I carried on slowly to the lunch truck at 50 kms. Bill, the surgeon, checked me over and said nothing was broken. I tried to ride after lunch, but it was too uncomfortable. For the last 25 kms., I rode in the truck.

The scenery continues to fascinate. The colours and contours of the hills and mountains are so varied; I cannot think of anywhere else I have seen it so. Approaching our campsite, the hill is actually red.

We are about 50 kms from Sossusvlei Dune, the largest in the world. It is said to be an astonishing sight. Some riders are taking a balloon ride over it on our rest day tomorrow, while others will go by road and, in some cases, walk to the top.

For myself, the ribcage is so sore tonight, despite taking a no. of painkillers, that I will stay around camp and read. I just hope Bill is right and that I will be able to ride again soon. There are five more days off-road, tough days, and I want to be able to do them.

It looks like, at best, there will be one more chance to use internet after here, before we reach Cape Town, and that will be in Springbok.  I want to thank you once again for all the wonderfully supportive comments. We have all had our ups and downs. Seeing your companions suffer is difficult in itself. Some riders have had to get up many times in the night with diarrhoea, night after night, others have been vomiting as they cycled. I remember Diane in Sudan, cycling behind her husband Jeff after a gruelling day; he was stooped over the handlebars, his head down, with only a km. to go.  She was shouting to him, “Jeff, don’t fall asleep. Keep going!” There was a coke stop with some shade, so they stopped and Jeff went straight to sleep for two hours .Franz was on his fourth course of antibiotics, in Tanzania I think it was. His cuts kept re-infecting, yet he had won every mando day till then. This day, he was feverish, his arm was swollen, but he raced. He won that day by two minutes, hoping to win every mando day of the Tour. But he lost his record on the next mando day when he went back to get help for Michael Prudden after his collision. I will always be grateful to Rick; when I was in a dazed stupor at the lunch stop in Dinder, he  quietly came over and whispered to me, “Don’t  kill yourself, Eric. There are too many people who love you”. Your comments have had the same effect, helping me through times that I admit have been very testing.

Some of the setbacks are humorous looking back, but were not so at the time. At one lunch break, I needed the toilet, and there were some buildings set back, including a toilet shed. Squatting over the hole, the flooring started crumbling where my feet were; only some quick manoeuvring saved me from going down. In a similar vein, I, like others, use a bottle in my tent at night to pee into. I lost my bottle the morning I overslept, but found another the next evening: I would suggest to anybody thinking of using this technique, to always check before using a bottle for the first time, that it is not cracked at the bottom!

May 3rd.  Sesriem
From 4.30 this morning, the first vehicles, carrying some of our riders, set off for the Dunes. The idea is to get there and climb to the top for sunrise.
We are just inside the gates of the Nature Reserve. Vehicles are lined up outside, waiting for the gates to open at sunrise.
There is a gas station, less than a kilometre from camp, that opens at 5.30. There are two computers that have seen heavy demand, so I have come down early so I can send this blog to Susan (ny webmaster) to post. The fresh footprints of springbok are clearly etched in the sand as I walk across. Jackals are a common sight here also, though mainly at night of course, canaries fly about camp. This might be desert, but the place is alive!

Best Wishes,

Eric

With such a big group, it is common not to find out about everything. I only found out today, that 2 days ago, Andra and Caroline were surrounded by wild dogs. These were not seen in Botswana much till recently. A car came through, splitting up the pack and enabling the girls to sprint away. In another incident, a group of the riders saw a group of baboons crossing the road ahead of them. The dominant male stopped, bared his teeth and let out a loud bellow. Rod, with his typical wit, shouted to it: “Take the women!”.

baboon

I felt much better today. The pre-lunch passed pleasantly, chatting to Jim. He is a lawyer from Portland, Ohio who loves his biking. For the second two-thirds of the day, I was grateful to Vic and Gerry for letting me draft behind them. Like most riders, we stopped at the Planet Baobab for a drink. This lodge, set 1.5 kms. from the road, is a comfortable spot to take coffee and chocolate cake – hard luck on those who arrived later to find none left!

planet baobab

I have enjoyed the ride today for the cycling, with a return of strength. Up till now, I have been wrong in thinking that tensions might appear in the last month. On the contrary, there is more open fun, teasing and good humour. Certainly, many will be looking forward to trips to the Okavango Delta on the rest day, the day after tomorrow. There is also a growing realisation that we are getting nearer to Cape Town. I cannot think of any rider who does not relish the thought. Long ago, we accepted that we were going to suffer, but a great weariness has set in. The long rides through unchanging scenery emphasises this. Yet we are cycling between the Okavango Delta ( to our north west) and the Makgadikgadi salt pans ( to our east) that are the biggest in the world.

Makgadikgadi Salt Pans

Dist.: 187 kms. Av.speed: 30 kph Time cycling: 6 hrs. 14mins.

Going to Maun. April 22nd.

On these long, flat roads, riders are tending to group up again. Ten of us in two lines of five kept up a good steady pace, rotating at the front every 10 mins. As we passed Reiner, we all sang Happy Birthday to him- he is 69 today. This evening, he bought drinks for everyone. In the afternoon, I chose to go slower and use it as a recovery ride.

Dist.:139 kms Av.speed:30 kph Time cycling: 4hrs. 39 mins.

Rest day in Maun. April 23rd.

Torrential rain set in last night. I was glorying in the dryness of my tent. I stretched out my arms to the side in satisfaction and…what is that, it feels wet!? Right enough, water covered the floor, not from the rain, but from my camelback. The tube end had come off and the water drained out. Some, like myself, chose to do their laundry before breakfast. Others went into the hotel, in whose grounds we are camping, for a reasonably priced breakfast buffet. When I went in after finishing my washing, a large number of riders had been and gone, eating everything like locusts. The waitress indicated the various bowls to me: “We have eggs, bacon, beans, sausages…” “Hold on”, I said, “they are all empty!” “The chef is doing more”,she smiled. Behind the counter, a young man was bent over a frying-pan cooking two eggs. Africa does force patience on you.

Some riders have paid US$120 each to fly for an hour over the Delta. others $280, which includes a trip in a canoe into the Delta. With so much water about, the animals and birds are dispersed over a larger area and viewing may have been a little disappointing. Tomorrow we start the five days, covering 800 kms., that will take us into Windhoek. There is some slight excitement now, knowing we are getting closer. Dare we start dreaming yet? Certainly, everybody is trying hard to get some weight back on. The growing availability of fast food outlets on rest days helps. Milk shakes, full-fat milks and burgers are all in demand.

24th April. Last Bush Camp!

The roads are good, they are flat and there is hardly any traffic. Everyone seems revived by the rest day and ready to give it some wellie. My bugs have gone and I feel in good shape. At the lunch stop, an English lad on an overladen bike pops in. He started cycling from UK last October, down to Gibraltar. He SWAM across to Africa, then cycled down the west coast, on his way to S. Africa to watch the World Cup and do an ultra triathlon. As Stuart, our current race leader, said: “That kinda puts us in our place, don’t it?”

All along the highway, bullocks graze on the long grass. They look so healthy and well-fed.

okavango delta

For over a week, I have slept very badly due to the disintegration of my thermorest mattress. It transpires that Jim has a “cot” (like a camp bed) that he does not use. He has offered it to me. So today, the ride done, I had cleaned myself, allowed the tent to put itself up (!) and put the cot together, a few minutes work. As I crawled onto the cot, a storm was breaking. I lay there, more comfortable than I have been for a long while, and just listened to Nature’s bad temper. All I lacked was my slippers and a packet of licorice allsorts.

The Decathlon.

Dave Arman and Sunil have devised a competition for teams of three to test their relative speeds over 10 days, with various “challenges”. This afternoon, the first event was held. One of each team had to dig a hole big enough for a washing-basin. This was conducted in the pouring rain and created some hilarity. Gabrielle, our Italian rider, supervised our dinner tonight; he made a mushroom risotto with lamb sausages.

Distance: 160 kms Av. speed: 30.8 kph Time cycling: % hrs. 8 mins.

25th April

Although the rain stopped while we had dinner last night, it came back with a vengeance at 8pm and continued till early morning. Some riders had been up, building moats around the tents; Simon had given up and got in the truck. Simon is one of the stronger riders. He is of British stock but lives in Johannesburg. He has not felt well for a long time, going back to when he received various spider bites one night in his tent, around his feet and ankles. The bites caused inflammation, pain and became very infected, despite treatment. He has not felt like riding, but he is in the race and also wants to maintain his EFI status. I saw his bites yesterday; he said they were much better, but the centres of the bites were still yellow with pus, about the size of marbles.

The sky was heavily clouded over this morning, creating a cold-feeling day, and continued so for the rest of the day. I prefer this to the sun for long rides, but it has come as a surprise. We are skirting the edge of the Kalahari Desert and were more concerned about high day-time temperatures.

The second event of the decathlon was an obstacle course, some on bike, some on foot and, funniest of all, pushing a single bicycle wheel along. After the boring ride, this was a wonderful antidote, competitive but great fun. Tomorrow we have the prospect of more of the same, but longer- in fact tomorrow we cover more kilometres than on any single day in the Tour. But I don’t think anybody is fazed by that; it is just another couple of hours more than yesterday.

Distance 143 kms Av.speed: 28 kph Time cycling: 5 hrs 4 mins..

April 26 To Namibia

I awoke at 5.45, 45 mins. late. Breakfast has started. A heavy storm during the night had turned to just rain. As quickly as ever I could, I stuffed everything in my holdall, dismantled my cot, and threw them outside, to take the tent down. Loading my bike bag for the day, I could not put my hands on my passport, which we would need to cross the border. I emptied my bag three times in the rain, each time more desperate, thinking i might have to cycle without breakfast. I found it and dashed to put my bags in my locker in the dinner truck and my tent in a cubby hole in the lunch truck. I got my breakfast.

botswana to namibia

It was still only half-light as we were setting off. I teamed up with Peter and David, keeping up a good pace to the lunch stop. It was a joy to see the signs for Namibia and South Africa. Lunch was at 80 kms. It looked like it might clear up, but in fact storms stayed around. There were cloudbursts. Near the border post, some got caught in a bad downpour that included hail. Passing through customs quite easily, a few hundred metres saw us to our campsite. The grass is saturated in most parts, whilst the paths are mud and water. I found a relatively dry spot. No sooner was I in the tent than the heavens opened again. Our clothes are generally wet or damp and beginning to smell. There is nothing we can do about it. But on the plus side, our dinner tonight was a big barbecue steak with pasta and pumpkin, together with some very tasty herb-filled, garlic bread!  There is also a store at the entrance to the camp. Viv and Gerry had bought a good bottle of wine which they shared with me. I had forgotten how good it can be. After dinner, I went along and bought chocolates, licorice and jelly tots. So, as I write this, with the thunder rolling and the rain hammering down, I am having a great nosh by myself. There is plenty to celebrate tonight: our longest distance, done; only one more capital city before Cape Town; only one more border post; only two nights before we have a great send-off for Viv and Gerry at Joe’s Steakhouse in Windhoek….and the jelly tots are really good!

We may remember Botswana more for it’s storm than anything else. But I have been most surprised by how few people we have seen. Hardly any villages are apparent either. There has just been hundreds of miles of flat bushland. As a result, you do not look for anything. So most of us missed seeing the herd of wildebeest quite near the road today.

Wildebeest

Dist.:209 kms. Av. speed: 27.5 kph Time cycling: 7 hrs. 40 mins.

April 27

First day in Namibia. The rain had stopped, leaving us to pick our way through the quagmire to get our breakfast. The sky looked heavy. The endless bush ahead of us was shrouded in mist, apart from the south-eastern edge of the sky which was trimmed with rose-pink edging. All morning, the sun tried to suck out the mist, sometimes piercing it but no more. The result was a stalemate; no sun, no mist, just heavy cloud. There was no sign of anybody or any habitation until we passed through the very pleasant town of Gobobis, the meat capital of Namibia, at about 120 kms. From here, it became apparent that we had left the storms behind and the sky started clearing. With so much wet clothing to dry and air, it was worth the effort to push a little harder into the headwind and get to camp as early as possible. Camp was supposed to be at Ziegy’s camp-site, but it has closed down, so we are in the bush again.

Decathlon: another two rounds took place before dinner. One, timing how long it takes for the contestant to finish a PVM bar. Simple, even stupid, you might say, but surprisingly good fun. Dinner tonight was really good: pork chop, potatoes and beans, with pitta bread and dips. Bill, to celebrate his 71st birthday, bought in enough beer for everybody. To top all that, Viv and Gerry had made the most delicious dessert: a chocolate, biscuit and ginger pudding, topped with caramelised oranges. It was my turn to help with the dishes tonight, but who cares after such a meal. Tomorrow promises to be an interesting day. The first 20 kms. will be a team trial race. We are split into groups of six, at random. The third person in each group will be timed, the fastest winning. In our group we have three very fast riders: Franz, Andrew (a sectional rider) and Eric Defour. Our plan is start off as six, but very quickly those three will be pulling away, as they are capable of maintaining 40 plus over that distance. The three of us left will work together, just in case there is a mechanical failure amongst our leaders. After that we continue into Windhoek.

dist.:164 kms. Av.speed: 24 kph Time cycling:6 hrs. 50 mins.

April 28th. To Windhoek.

At 6am., we left every 2 mins. in groups of six. We had decided to let our best three go ahead and we, Lynn, Rick and I, would work together as a second group. There was a light headwind and a slight rise to the road, so times were not super-fast. Our first three went off like rockets, and did the 20 kms. in 35 mins. We passed other riders but we came in 8 mins. after our first three. It was great fun, more so as a couple of groups stayed together, riding as a six. Lani, not the fastest, despite having proven great endurance, was kept in her group and, literally, pushed to the front as they headed to the finishing line.( I have just this minute been told that we won the time trial!)

Today was not a race day, so racers mixed with non-racers. Unfortunately, there were strong 45 degree headwinds that made this one tough day. As in Botswana, a 25m. width either side of the straight road is kept mostly free of scrub, leaving the grass to grow tall. The golden colour made me imagine I was cycling through an endless, East Anglian cornfield. Unlike Botswana, small hills popped up in the distance like pimples .

The approach to Windhoek took us parallel with a small mountain range, brown to almost mauve, and eventually, after hill upon hill, gave us a great descent. Somewhere on that descent I lost my cycling computer. It had broken in Sudan, but I have managed to hold it together with duck tape till now. Just as we entered the city, there was a good bike shop, where many riders were calling in to get problems solved. (American) Dan, for instance, has had nearly 20 spokes break. Chris, the mechanic, rebuilt the wheel, but they kept breaking. (Someone voted him “the riders’ spokesperson”! ) He has been wobbling along like a duck. Anyway, I got a new computer put on within minutes.

windhoek

Windhoek is very pleasant, we feel. It is a chilled-out place, with plenty of greenery amongst the well-spaced houses. But by the time we arrived and got set up and washed, there was no time for a nap. Almost all of us joined Viv and Gerry at the zany restaurant, Joe’s Steakhouse. With game meat on the menu, many of us were trying gazelle, oryx, zebra or kudu for the first time. Like many others, I had not the energy to finish my meal and was asleep in bed by 9.

April 29th.

Today, apart from washing and changing our tyres back to “fatties”, we are in the mall, eating, having a haircut, stocking up on goodies and hitting the internet. Tomorrow, we hit the dirt again. We have been promised more loose sand and rough corrugation, stuff of nightmares that I had thought was behind us, expecting just hard, packed dirt. There is still some hard riding ahead. But as Jason said this morning, we have proved to ourselves that we can survive any of the days, so we have nothing to fear.

Best wishes,

Eric

Seventy kms. of flat cycling brought us to the border. A good quarter of a mile of lorries were parked patiently to cross the river on the ferry. Uniquely in the world, four countries meet at a point in the river here; this is the River Chombe which becomes the Zambesi a few kms. downstream.  Three of the countries want to build a bridge here. Who do you think is the fourth, who will not agree? Mugabe.

Chombe River

We are straight in and out of the passport office and onto the ferry. The long ramps of the flat-bottomed ferry reach on to the muddy bank. We carry our bikes across it, flit through immigration, the foot-and-mouth dip and then 10 kms. to camp.

Hippos

This relatively short ride enables us to book on a River Cruise up the Chombe river. Half of all of us riders took this chance to sail along the edge of the most wildlife-abundant Nature Reserve in the country. Groups of hippopotami ignored us as we came close. Fish eagles watched quietly from high branches. Giant monitor lizards went in search of birds’ eggs. Elephants trundled about the rising riverbank, their calves keeping close. They must have already known well before us…someone spotted a lioness quietly sat near the river. She suddenly was off, chasing a warthog!  After her abortive attempt, she came back to the water’s edge and stared at us. We probably did not set her saliva running, skinny wretches us all!

Hippos, crocodile in the background

April 19th.

Dawn was still breaking as we left , the sight and strong smell of fresh elephant dung abundantly clear

Elephants looking for calcium in the soil

I knew very soon that I had a urine infection. It was a very uncomfortable experience riding the 80 kms. to lunch. Although TDA staff are thin on the ground – James, the cook, has gone for a few days’ break, while Gert, who usually makes lunch, stayed behind in Livingstone, having contracted malaria – we were treated to hamburgers. Paul, the Tour Leader, was being helped by young Steve.

lioness on the bank of the river

Early in the Tour, Steve realised his money needed supplementing. He has made a lot of riders very happy by offering to do their dish duties for $5 a time. He has washed bikes for £10 a time. But more importantly, he has generally helped out around camp in many ways. He found the cycling too boring, and has taken to hitchhiking most days, enjoying meeting whoever comes along.

After passing through thick bush, open bush and then, like an infringement of the natural order, immense flat fields of sorghum, soya beans and sunflowers, we came to a service station at 106 kms., the first sign of life all day. Paul put my bike on the roof of the 4×4, I sank in the seat and we quickly made it to camp.

giant monitor lizard, well, half of him

A test confirmed the infection, and Caroline started me on a course of antibiotics. Since the dehydration, my tummy/bowels have been troublesome, so probably the antibiotics will sort that out as well.

I could eat little for dinner and retreated back to my tent. During the night, the pleasant sound of rain was no impediment to sleep.

Impala on riverbank

April 20th  Straight road to Safari Camp.

I sensibly followed Caroline’s advice and got in the truck. I do admit to feeling guilty about doing so.

The riders cycled through the rain till lunch, but made good time overall. Arriving at the campsite, we were told that this place had burnt down last year and has been rebuilt. As the lorry came to a standstill and we opened the doors to get out, we were immediately engaged by mosquitoes. We dived for our repellent.

Regardless of this pest, the facilities at the campsite are so good. Toilets and showers have become more frequent and in better condition as we have travelled south. These are the best yet. The bar and pool area is quite splendid; the chalets, at US$100, are absolutely wonderful, according to riders who have chosen to stay in them.

What is wrong with a good TENT?

This tent that I bought from the Dutch sectional rider, has saved me over an hour a day. I take it out of its sleeve and it just pops up. To take it down, I merely squash it together, do a couple of manipulations (of the tent) and pop it back. The TDA staff have kindly given me a spot to keep it, and life is suddenly much easier!

What about the BIKE?

I put a new chain on a few days ago. This is my third and final chain. The mechanics changed a gear cable a few weeks ago and a brake cable needs changing now. The only other problem I have had so far is with the derailleur; I cannot get top gear. It seems that it has been damaged beyond the ability of the mechanic to repair it. Overall, the bike is doing well. I am the weakest link up to now!

Best wishes

Eric

You must remember that our journey was never intended to be up-market, in the sense of embracing the wonderful accommodations available in these countries. Some of the riders are using these facilities when possible. Ted, of course, is the best exponent of this practice; we rarely see him. He started cycling with good intentions, but more and more, left his bike, to do other things. The last time I saw him near his bike was over a week ago. There was an almighty bang- I remember spilling all my drink- as his front tyre and tube exploded, leaving an empty rim. Rick remarked aloud with a smile, “Put a little more air in, Ted!”  The joke was that he might have done it deliberately so as not to have to ride!  He is a great guy; a pity we do not see more of him.

coke stop

Katja went ahead of us and spent a few days in a lodge, about half an hour’s drive from Lusaka. There was plenty of wildlife and she enjoyed a game drive. About a dozen riders got a reduced rate to stay in the 5 star Protea Hotel in Lusaka.

The rest of us camped in the grounds of a small hotel on the outskirts. Whilst the staff are helpful and polite, there is a clear lack of funding. But our grass area was fine for camping.

All of us are very tired. There is no spring in anyone’s step. I spent the rest day doing nothing at all, except lying down. I gave my laundry to the hotel, did not look at the bike. I have just wanted to rest and sleep .Any hope of riding out of Lusaka dissipated when, firstly, I could not eat properly last night and secondly, when I was finally able to get my washed cycling gear back from the hotel, it was still wet.

Bike donation and Health Initiative.

The press were invited to attend the donation of bikes and an explanation of the work of the Zambian Health Initiative.

The TDA incorporates a foundation that raises money for the provision of bikes to worthy causes in the countries we pass through. On the rest day, 28 new bikes, made locally, were given to a charity called Hands of God. It comprises local volunteers who go around helping orphans and those suffering from the ravages of Aids. Normally, they would have to walk everywhere. The distances involved limit their work. So the bikes are welcomed warmly.

The Health Initiative is very interesting. Bill, the surgeon I mentioned earlier, and his two nurses, Jessica and Leanne, who are also sectional riders, together set up a liaison between their Canadian University and one in Zambia. Their objective has been to teach medicinal skills and  supply materials and back-up to the poor parts of western Zambia, in a manner which is sustainable. They have clearly volunteered a lot of their time to this cause. Hearing from Zambian physicians, who had driven four hours to this event, there has been tremendous success.

April 13th. Lusaka to Oasis Camp. 168 kms.

The five of us in the dinner truck, except for Katja, who read, napped or slept for the journey to Oasis Camp. The scenery apparently was nothing special or different. There was mainly a good tailwind. The riders found the ride surprisingly good. The first riders arrived in camp for 12 noon.

The board as you turn into the campsite reads “Oasis Camp: Honeymoon Couple Site”. This gross exaggeration is not wholly apparent as you drive in. There are several rondavelles (round, thatched huts) set amongst the trees. They always look romantic. A local lady showed us inside one. They contain three beds each, with no other furniture. They do have power, but more importantly if you want to lie down, they offer shade. I want to lie down, not in a tent that sweats in the sun. At a cost of about US$10 I paid for one. I presume the others will be quickly snapped up: there are ants everywhere and antphobia has set in. We shall see what the night brings.

my rondavel

I have already dried my laundry and put out my cycling gear. I am getting on the bike tomorrow

April 14th. Oasis camp to Ruze Chalet Camp.

No one got invaded last night. But 15 TDA  chairs and a bike went missing. Now the bike is a bamboo-frame bike; seeing is believing! Two of these are being ridden for a few days by two local mechanics who work for Zambibike, the company who makes the bamboo bikes. One of these two, by talking with the locals at the camp, found out who the thief was and got his bike back.

I was one of the last to leave camp, and one of the last to finish. The temperatures are quite moderate at the moment, so that helps.

in the Zambian village

Another quite long ride tomorrow will take us into Livingstone, near the Victoria Falls. Water levels are particularly high at present; rafting has been cancelled. But there are so many other things to do- from bungee jumping to elephant rides- that anyone who needs amusing, and more importantly, has the energy, is spoilt for choice. We have two rest days there. But all of us are so well aware now, that there are no easy days on this Tour. Recovery time is insufficient, especially for us older ones. So taking a rest when you are able, is essential, if you are serious about biking all the time.

Distance 185 kms  Av.speed: 24.7 kph  Time cycling: 7 hrs.31 mins.

April 15th.  Ruze Chalet Camp to Livingstone Safari Camp

chameleon in camp

After a much-disrupted night, I was surprised at breakfast that I felt much better altogether. The 80 kms. to lunch (at 9am!) passed through pleasant bush country, nothing special. After lunch, we had 20 kms. of dirt, with the rest severely potholed. Eight kms. from Livingstone, the road rose a little and there, about 14 kms. away, we saw the high spray of the Victoria Falls.

Luangwe river

The town has all the trappings of prosperity built on a tourist trade: modern supermarkets and fast food restaurants. But there also many examples of early colonial homes. The main thoughfare is lined with trees and has an agreeable feel.

We are camped between the town and the Falls. There is a large central building, in traditional African, thatched style, where large wicker chairs allow you to sit in the shade and have cold drinks and some simple food.

Some riders have moved to a waterfront campsite, while others have booked into hotels.

Tomorrow morning, Hardy, (Swiss) Eric, Menno and myself are going to visit the Falls area by paying the $US10 entrance fee. There will be so much mist that I am not optimistic about getting much of a view, but we must try.

Distance 155 kms  Av. speed: 25.8  Hours cycling: 5 hrs. 58 mins.

April 16th.

When we arrived yesterday, there was loud music blaring out from an adjacent camp. This continued without pause until 2 in the morning. When that stopped, we could then hear drums from a village that continued till 4.30. But the worst of all was the cockerel. The two African drivers bought a cockerel a few days ago; it has been kept in a big cage attached to the back of the dinner truck. They have been fattening it for eventual consumption. Last night it started it’s noise at 2.30 and carried on about every half hour.

So this morning, I spoke to the TDA staff and insisted it go. They agreed, and I am told it will be killed tonight. Sorry Mr.Cockerel!!

It cost us $US20 to enter the Falls area, but well worth the money. There are paths you can take to get vantage points. The water hurtles towards the edge; the drop is a mile wide and we can only see the first part of that. It seems strange to look down on that and see two rainbows, below us, in the mist. A helicopter passes over, barely audible for the thunder. The deluge drops 100 metres into a narrow defile whose exit is a comparatively narrow gorge. We found a spot where we could see the Zambezi river enter this gorge, round a bend and pass under the bridge (into Zimbabwe), from where some of our intrepid riders will be doing a bungee jump today.

About a score of the riders have booked into the magnificent Victoria Falls Hotel on the Zimbabwe side. The views of the Falls are said to be better from there.

I have to say I am feeling quite exhausted right now. My symptoms are no different from a lot of the other riders. We must just hang in there.

Best Wishes, Eric