All money raised will go directly to the charities selected; we will be paying for all our own expenses.
by maghnus on December 11, 2009
“Be careful who’s advice you take but be patient with those who dispense it.” Every traveller has a window in any destination or stop-off point within which to experience and consequentially formulate an impression. Factors largely unrelated to the particular spot, however, become intrinsically linked to the experience and are thus similarily linked to the impression. State of mind, health, workload, stress and travelling companions play as vital a role as the beauty of a place and its’ people, or lack thereof in respect of both. Consequentially any opinion offered by a fellow traveller must be accepted with this in mind. Whilst allowing for the possibility that one man’s paradise is another man’s Bure, I have found that advice and opinion still play a crucial role when venturing blindly toward a name printed on a map.
Wadi Halfa seemed universally disliked. The window through which all we had encountered had viewed ‘Halfa’ seemed stained and cracked. We arrived expecting little, yet desiring less. Halfa was therefore in a position from which it would be difficult to dissapoint. Perhaps due to this underdog tag, or perhaps because we too proved susceptible to the influential factors that eminate from the individual, Halfa surprized. The town seemed lost in a weekly cycle of contrasting periods of chaos and calm. The town lounged next to Lake Nasser, carefree and ponderous on days when the ferry sailed in Northern waters. It was as if Halfa itself layed down its head and dozed in the Nubian sun. At these times the town is truly Sudanese and remains characteristically dignified. For two days we slipped into the dozing town and relaxed as if we too were exhausted from last week’s ferry. As Wednesday approached Halfa seemed to slowly rise, wiping sleep from too tired eyes. All too knowing of the frantic energy about to pulsate through the streets Halfa did not rush to meet fire with fire. There would be time for everything and everything would take time. The principal architects of the structure in the storm laid out once more their best laid plans and maintained a swagger of assurance that contrasted anxiety of the multitude. Although the means was unknown, the end was guaranteed by the swaggering architects. As if blindfolded, the would be sailors were led through a forrest of forms and a field of faces, trusting but fearful, confident yet cautious.
by David on November 25, 2009
“I’ll swap you two ‘apple and cinnamon’ for any three of yours!”
Maghnus shouts at me from somewhere deep in his sleeping bag, he refers to our most treasured possessions, bags of Jungle Oats (instant porridge) bought in South Africa. Even as he shouts he knows a three for two swap would be madness, no matter how good apple and cinnamon would be quantity is the only currency here.
As food becomes harder to find our morning bowl of porridge is one of the day’s highlights, tempting us out each morning to face another battle with the elements.
“Hows the wind?”
Just as Maghnus knew, Alan knows my reply before it comes, yet each morning we live in hope that the strong northernly wind will have in someway abated.
As I push my bike out from whichever sand dune we’ve spent the night sheltering behind there’s a familiar heart sinking feeling as the wind fully reveals itself, somehow stronger than the day before. The only way to get over this is to treat the days struggle personally, gaining satisfaction from the fact that although your not going to be going anywhere fast you will keep going. Its like saying to the wind , I may not beat you, but you won’t beat me either.
Once in this frame of mind desert cycling can become quite enjoyable. The vast expanses are so devoid of human life thats its easy to imagine we’re completely alone exploring this ocean of sand, the occasional donkey or camel being the only distractions.
In such situations day dreaming comes easily, until you realise that it’s actually getting quite hot and you really would like a cold drink. Suddenly no other thought matters and you’re obsessively counting down the distance to the next water station. Doing sums in your head as your speed dips,
“ 15km per hour, if I can keep this up for 45 minutes I’ll be there.” Then you turn a corner and a fresh gust lowers the speed to 13km/ph and everything changes.
This agonising is such that by the time you see the top of a mosque which has come to symbolize water the relief and excitement is almost worth the pain, and that first sip of ice cold coke expels any bad memories.
These stations usually serve a collection of cold drinks and provide us with a bed for our daily siesta. By the time 3 o’clock comes it’s with a heavy heart that we pick up our cycling shoes and begin to focus on the afternoon session. Again the wind dictates everything, if it drops we will cycle into the night, if not half 6 will be the finishing mark.
As 6 o’clock approaches we all agree that cycling tonight would be pointless, our attention immediately turns to looking for that perfect dune. A big plus cycling in Sudan brings is the ease with which camping spots revel themselves and by 6.15 myself and Maghnus have flopped down on the soft sand as Alan busies himself getting the dinner going.
It’s during these moments of reflection that the days toil becomes worthwhile, 91km closer to home and another chunk of the desert behind us; plus I’ve got two packs of chocolate jungle oats for the morning. Does it get any better than this ?
by Alan on November 18, 2009
We arrived in in the Sudanese town of Gadarraf after two days intensive cycling from the Ethiopian/Sudanese border town of Galabat. We had to be very minful of these couple of days ahead because of the unknown nature of the sudden change and rise in temperature. This was due to the sharp descent from the Ethiopian hills to the billiard table-like desert terrain of Sudan. There was a degree of uncertainty as to whether or not we could cover enough kilometers, be off the road and safely in the shade before midday before it became too hot to cycle, as was our intention. We therefore began our cycle each morning as near to 5a.m. as possible. All this was compounded by the fact that we had being nursing varying degrees of minor illness as a result of some bug picked up along the way, probably in the border town of Galabat. In hindsight, an extra day or two resting would have been the better option in this case.
Burnsy did go ahead by bus thereby allowing him enough time to recover in Gadaraf. Maghnus and I arrived eventually as planned having learned much during these first two days about the do’s and don’ts of cycling in the heat. As arranged, our first port of call was email access in order to let each other know where we had booked into for the couple of days break, depending on who arrived first. We checked into the ‘Amir Hotel’ later on and as it turned out the only room available to us was one of the ‘VIP’ rooms. Although this room was a bit more expensive than the others, the ‘VIP’, which was hand painted/daubed on the door, roughly translated as a shower and a huge ‘Apocalypse Now’-type ceiling fan which circulated a cool breeze around the room. We’ll take it!
The next mornings sleep-in, after the Muslim call to prayer, took the form of snooze, wake and some sort of in-between state. During one such in-between state I heard what I thought was the sound of a nearby, fast-flowing river. Wishful thinking perhaps! This was also reminiscent of the sound of the waterfall under which we had a badly needed shower, which we shared with some Ethiopians, just before our ascent of the ‘Blue Nile Gorge’. This was our last creature comfort before the climb. One way or another, refreshing thoughts of rest and a cool breeze filled my half-sleep.
This cooling breeze turned out to be the breeze generated by the large fan overhead. What I didn’t account for then and what came as a surprise to me later was that the sound of the ‘river’ and the ‘waterfall’ was in fact the sound of same fan. The similarity of sounds in this case was remarkable. Both sounds were hypnotic and both suggested respite & relief from the heat. Later, and again in a semi-sleep state, the same sound of the fan brought to mind the silence of the bicycle but for the purring sound of tyre against tarmac evident only at cruising speed. This sound is never to be heard at lower speeds. (cruising speed also generates a cooling breeze). The feeling of ease and rest was again being evoked by the same sound. Since then I have tended to seek out such repetitious sounds during, and to aid, our midday ‘siesta’. A The purring sound of a long awaited fridge containing cool drinks, for example, can nearly do the same trick. An electric fruit blender, for which the Sudanese hold in high esteem, can come close. Proximity to the source of such sounds, as above, is crucial for the desired effect. Don’t get too close to the fan!
The privilege of being able to undertake this trip by bicycle does surely activate all the senses. Only when the logistics of any stretch of this journey are taken care of can the value of any given environment be fully appreciated. It was only after the initial three to four problematic days in Sudan that we could begin to appreciate. Much more reserved than their Ethiopian neighbours, the people of Sudan that we have encountered have extended hospitality and a sincere welcome to us. A couple of days ago we stopped by a village marquee because of the surrounding activity. We were hoping to get shelter and shade and a ‘Merinda’ orange or coke. Coca-Cola or Pepsi, it didn’t matter. It turned out that the marquee contained a wedding party around the time between the ceremony and the reception. From eight to eighty, extended family and friends welcomed us and a platter of tasty and varied food was produced. Three beds were organised for us in the shade and afterwards when we awoke another platter of food arrived. These few hours took gate-crashing a wedding to new levels of ease! The ease at which we were made feel at home was a bit surprising and we were also invited to stay for the all-night party later on which we had to decline because of our mission to get to the once-a-week ferry from Wadi Halfa across the Nile to Egypt.
The Sudanese value the shade, ice cool drinks, water, their fruit drinks, their outdoor beds and spinning fans as much as we do and are more than willing to share. They seem to welcome outsiders or foreigners proudly, all far indeed from the present media portrayal of Sudan.
by David on November 9, 2009
by maghnus on November 3, 2009
Our last day in Ethiopia differed from other such days when borders were crossed. We were 160km from the Sudanese border and to a man we felt that we needed a break from Ethiopia. The kids who chased the bikes constantly screaming for money as we cycled north also began to throw stones. Whilst undoubtedly without malicious intent it had become a huge mental challenge to just deal with the kids leaving aside the relentless mountains which characterise Ethiopia and outline its borders. This physical delineation of a country, unlike the colonial ruler drawn borders prevalent throughout most of Africa, is at its most apparent when viewed on the screen of an Ethiopian Airlines’ 747. A satellite view reveals a country which seems to be struggling to climb out of the continent. The result of Ethiopia’s attempted escape is a dramatic drop toward its less restless neighbours. We had been warned by locals in Northern Ethiopia that the last few kilometres to Sudan would bring with them heat. When someone who lives their life in temperatures that rarely drop below 30 c tells you that its going to get hot, you take notice. We raced toward the border conscious that our Sudanese visas were valid for only two weeks and Khartoum would have to be reached within 8 days in order to extend them. Burnsy, having helped me with a puncture got caught out in the sun for twenty minutes after Alan and myself had found shade. It was half one when Burnsy got out of a heat that stings your skin and drains your body. Waiting an hour for the sun to permit further progress we reached the border just before it closed and settled down for our first night in Sudan. While Alan and I slept Burnsy spent a restless night dealing with the effects of extreme dehydration. Rather than wake us he struggled to drink as much as he could conscious that his body was retaining very little.
When we woke and began preparing for our first full day in tempuratures reaching 45 degrees celcius I was aware that I didn’t really have any appetite for food. My stomach was cramping, but it was quite mild and oft times in the past a couple of hours cycling can cure such ailments. I choked down a couple of spoons of rice with sweetened milk but immediately started to feel unwell. Unwisely I decided to cycle anyway aware we couldn’t afford a day off. Burnsy was too weak physically to cycle and so Alan and I covered the first 30km with relative ease, the sun had yet to awake to its full strength and the road was flat. At 11 all this changed. Suddenly I found that every inch of exposed skin started to sting and no matter how often I drank from my now hot water bottle I could not rid myself of a dryness in my mouth. For two hours and 30 kilometres I tried to convince myself that I could overcome what was happening me, but at 1 o clock I collapsed physically. My legs would only move fast enough to stop the bike falling, I began to wretch when trying to drink water and my sense of balance was confused by a dizziness that felt like drunkenness, and my stomach was cramping constantly. I called Al and told him I had to get out of the sun. He had already seen I was in trouble and was looking for shade, anywhere. Flanking us on both sides was land devoid of the trees and bushes we had previously relied on for a break from the sun. For five more kilometers and 40 more minutes we crawled along looking for somewhere to stop. Eventually Al spotted a group of three huts and we came off the road heading on a dirt track in their direction. Once I reached the shade I collapsed onto the ground and lay there trying to slow my heart rate as Al tried to explain to the people who lived in the huts that we needed shelter and water. Water and beds were provided and we slept for a couple of hours waiting for four o clock when we had decided to try and reach Doka, a town where we could spend the night.
At four we took off again hoping to have recovered enough. We had only 20km to go and I was hoping that I could manage. The sun still burned and almost immediately I started to collapse for a second time. Al stayed at my pace despite the fact I could no longer cycle straight or get above 12km per hour and encouraged me to keep going and to keep drinking. The water was so hot that it was making me sick and my body was rejecting it. At half five Doka came into view and Al urged us on. We reached the town and I fell into a chair. I tried to order water but couldn’t get the words out. Sitting with my head in my hands I convinced myself that I was finished for the day and that the sickness and dizziness would pass.
That was three days ago and we’re all now back to full health as we continue cycling north. Despite carrying extra water and replacement salts for Sudan the initial change in temperature took us by surprise. Our cycling schedule has now changed to get us out of the sun between the hours of 11am and 4 pm . So far this method is working well and we hope to be in Khartoum within another couple of days.
by David on October 17, 2009
Last week we had the privilege of handing over Bike Africa’s first cheque to the OAM Sports Academy in George (SA). The cheque, for 6000 euros was presented on behalf of all of you who contributed to the Bike Africa fundraising effort.
The Sports Academy is a Christian organisation working with children in the local townships, providing coaching in Rugby, Soccer and Netball as well as lessons in life skills.
As we toured the townships with the academy’s leaders Wayne and Suzi McAfee we got a taste of how challenging and necessary their work in the area has been. South Africa’s vast divide between rich and poor highlighted for us the poverty in which so many people live and our responsibility to try and help.
Townships throughout the country usually have an excess of 90% unemployment leading to chronic problems with drinking, drugs and violence. Opportunities in such an area are almost non existent as children watch their elders drinking and stealing to escape and survive the hopelessness of their situation.
Sports Academy exists to provide these children with the knowledge and opportunities to carve out a brighter future for themselves and the little brothers and sisters looking up to them. Creating role models and community leaders is at the heart of the OAM vision and the attitude and enthusiasm the kids portray filled us with optimism at what is possible when shown this kind of care and attention.
by Bike Africa on October 9, 2009
by Bike Africa on October 9, 2009
by maghnus on October 7, 2009
Ethiopia to Cape Town. We started out with an idea; cycle a long distance through Africa. Countries ruled out immediately due to perceived danger; Sudan and Zimbabwe. Cities we would have to cycle quickly through or avoid completely; Addis Ababa, Nairobi and Johannesburg. Plotting a route with so many large land-mines was problematic. Was there any safe way to make it from North Eastern Africa to the South Western tip? Would we see our friends and family again? Is Africa too dangerous?
No! We spent a week in Addis Ababa without a single attempted pick-pocketing, when Burnsey caught typhoid we had to stop for five theft-free days in ‘Nairobbery’ and we cycled through Johannesburg without being, stabbed, shot or otherwise attacked. Due to visa issues we had to change route and cycled from the top of Zimbabwe to the bottom where instead of hatred we were greeted with warmth. To say Africa is free from danger would be both naive and insincere, but, to say ‘The West’ is free from danger would be equally false. In the words of David W Burns; “Africa is not that bad.”
The journey to Cape Town has been amazing, the support received for the charities we are working with has been equally astonishing. With both these things in mind we have decided to make our third route change. Rather than fly home to Ireland as originally planned, we are flying back to Addis Ababa. From Addis we will cycle North through Sudan, the Nubian Desert and Egypt before turning right into the Middle East and continuing through Europe home to Ireland. All going well we should arrive home in early Feb having spent Christmas in Bethlehem.
To date with all four of our group on the cycle fundraising has been difficult, however, with Brian at home now we will be able to re-focus much of our energy and regain momentum lost after leaving Ireland. We have now spent time with all three of the organisations Bike Africa is supporting and are more convinced than ever that the work being done in St Gabriels, OAM and Self-Help Africa is worth our efforts and more. Wish us luck and please keep telling friends and family to consider donating. Cheers!
by David on September 29, 2009
By 2pm yesterday we knew our arrival to Cape Point wouldn’t be anything like the victory lap we had envisioned. Ethiopia aside South Africa has been the toughest leg of our journey and in typical fashion it had served up a 45 Mph headwind to greet us on this final stretch.
With 3 hours until the closing of the Table Mountain National Park we set off like men possessed, weaving in and out of traffic and racing up long winding hills flanked on one side by the crashing waves of the Atlantic ocean and on the other by the parks steep granite cliffs. We’ve had some pretty spectacular cycles over the 4 months but this ranked up there with the very best and with the prospect of reaching our destination becoming more likely our legs seemed oblivious to the climb.
Then with 10 km to go we reached the summit and got the first glimpse of our destination. Gradually our pace fell as we peddled along recalling all the people and places that have made this trip so special.
Gradually the distance was eaten away until there was no more road left to cycle and we sat the bikes down at Africa’s most south westerly point at 4.56 p.m. We had tried not to think too much about this moment for fear that it would not lead up to expectation, but the feeling of quiet satisfaction it brought was more than any of us could have hoped for.
The final task was to open the letter our absent member had sent for this occasion, even without being there O’Shea managed to kick the party into life as we sprayed champagne and smoked cigars the amongst crowds of bemused onlookers.
The support we have received from home and the welcome we have received everywhere we passed through made the journey possible. We want to thank every single person who helped us on our way.
