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

NB:  Correction re zebras: I was misinformed the other day as to the types of Zebra. The purely black and white zebra is found mainly in Eastern Africa. Here in Namibia, there are two types: the mountain zebra (also known as the Burchell’s zebra), has dark brown stripes against a tan background, the stripes being widely spaced and reaching down under the belly and down the legs; the plains zebra is lighter in colour and it’s dark brown/black stripes are evenly spread over the entire body. Amazing what you find out when you are not cycling!!

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.

May 3rd. Rest day in Sesriem (Sossusvlei) .

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