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Simon : 10 April 2007 A view on Darfur - surely the most dangerous road in After two weeks of isolated camping, Khartoum was soon overwhelming. When the dust, the heat and the over-crowding became too much I imagined it suddenly pouring with rain, the jabbering hordes of fruit sellers, boys selling pens, and women in the dirt with their bags of peanuts and tomatoes all scurrying for shelter, leaving me alone. Only I'm told it last rained eight months ago. We spent two days as guests at the home of a Sudanese man we met on the ferry to Wadi Halfa. A professional family of engineers, dentists and doctors it was interesting to hear their views on Sudanese politics, which today consume so much world attention. To someone with a western perspective what they said was alarming, and yet this view was repeated elsewhere in northern Sudan: politicians in Darfur are manipulating a US and Europe still guilty over their failure to intervene in the Rwandan genocide, and that Sudanese government soldiers would not mutilate and rape because this is against Muslim teachings. Because of the intense heat and long distances we often use re-hydrate sachets as a pick-me-up in the evening. Finding a chemist in a small town we restocked, only to find they were re-selling Unicef-sponsored sachets, no doubt intended for the crisis areas. Another example of the complex problems here. We left Khartoum with fresh legs but the dust storm of the last two days persisted. Visibility was poor and the strong headwind made cycling difficult. To make matters worse the road south to Gadaref is surely the most dangerous road in Africa. In an orgy of bad driving, cars undertake trucks while they are overtaking us, trucks overtaking from the opposite direction force us repeatedly off the narrow road and into the gravel, blind rises mean nothing and the hard shoulder is just another place to undertake. Gone were the mild-mannered Sudanese we had come to love and in frustration I used my middle finger often. The endless roadkill therefore came as no surprise: bloated donkeys, bellies fit to burst in the sun, dead horses and pancake flat, cartoon-like dogs all marked the kilometers as we cycled towards Ethiopia. A full moon on a clear night in Sudan is bright enough to write by. It is so warm I prefer to sleep in the open and it is not uncommon to be woken later by the light of the moon, which when directly above you is as if someone has left a light on. In yet another example of Sudanese hospitality as we camped one night under a thorn tree near a small settlement (no more than five crude huts, the people goat herds) we were brought pancakes covered in warm camels milk. Usually we are not so lucky though and cycle touring as we are is most difficult in the evenings, when all you want to do is rest after the day's effort. But there is a campsite to find and sometimes a tent to pitch, enough wood needs to be collected, a fire made and plenty of food cooked. Then you still need to clean yourself as best you can. Understandably, this is when moods sometimes turn! Yet we have such independence this way that we wouldn't change a thing. At one village stop we shared the small wooden shelter used by labourers waiting for a lift. Here, the men lay out on the ground away from the sun and doze, and we try to do the same but for us there is no rest. I watch them lying there, immediately snoring, and envy their comfort. We are so hot (down to nothing but cycling shorts, to hell with cultural sensitivity in this heat!) yet they are fully dressed, some with jackets on. The flies don't affect them either, but our bodies are covered, and just as you start falling asleep one crawls into your nose or mouth, jolting you awake. The flat roads of Sudan gradually gave way to rolling hills as we approached the Ethiopian border at Gallabat, and we found the change in scenery refreshing. For once there were trees to provide shelter from the mid-day sun and enough wood for our fires in the evening. Excited about reaching Ethiopia we rode hard. There is an immediate change in atmosphere as you cross the border post, a small bridge over a dry river bed. Music blares out of the small, wooden shop fronts, signs advertise cold beers, girls drink unchaperoned in the tea rooms and bars, boys lounge around playing pool. It's 1999 by the Ethiopian calendar and as we have come to find out Ethiopians are partying. We camped that first night just outside Metama, waking the next day to look up at two bemused Ethiopians with rifles slung over their shoulders. Despite the fact that Ethiopians are incredibly inquisitive - we provide the entertainment wherever we stop, only we are better than TV as we give perfect reception (and we got more viewers at a tea stop than for a Champions League play-off) -the faces that crowd us are so often blank with dull and indifferent eyes, occasionally hostility. It has been a struggle communicating and I have been getting frustrated with the lack of meaningful communication, something we still managed to achieve in Sudan despite a similar language barrier. It is a 230km dirt track to Gondar and cycling is slow on the rough road, made more so by the steep climbs stuttering up into the mountains. Reaching the top of these twisty passes and stopping to look out over wooded gorges and purple skies I don't know whether to smile or cry for the sheer beauty of the place and the fact that I am here cycling it. On one climb (13km long and averaging 9 - 11% gradient) I pass a stream of villagers walking to market. Men are coaxing goats, a chicken balanced on a staff on their shoulder, women carry bags of produce, children follow. I later see the pitiful display in the market, each person with some onions or tomatoes laid out before them, others with a few papaya. The villages we pass are obviously poor, some sponsored by Unicef schemes. Like the adults, the gangs of children that surround us constantly all shout 'you, you' to get our attention. Everywhere we go it is the same grinding barrage, the enterprising ones adding 'give me money'. The young boys all have their heads shaved but for a tuft near the front, and it is only when I see a cast-off Brazil t-shirt with Ronaldo on it that I figure out why. Old. over-sized 50-Cent t-shirts are also popular. The children wear crude necklaces of rope, keys, washers and pieces of plastic. Despite the fact that they can be overwhelming, the children are surprisingly affectionate, many of the younger ones stroking my arm gently or holding my hand. I also see nine or ten year olds confidently running cafes and stores. Ethiopia has been an eye-opener so far, both for the glorious countryside and the people, and I have a feeling it will be hard going as we head to Addis Abbaba. We are now in Gondar, the old capital of Ethiopia and known as 'Africa's Camelot' because of the Fasilidas castle ruins. We hope to reach the rock-hewn churches of Lalibela next, perched high in the mountains. |
| Craig : 2 April 2007 : Wind, broken spokes & more bad driving... : Hufeira, Sudan
Although the scenery started to change today, with some hillocks hinting at what's to come in Ethiopia, the day was dominated by other things. I replaced four broken spokes in my ever-ailing back-wheel after just 30km of the days ride. I was starting to worry that my wheel may just colapse when yet another broke just 15km further on, forcing me to start bending spokes to the right length to effect a repair as I'd now run out of the shorter spokes needed for my Rohloff wheel. This posed it's own problems as the bent ends clash easily with the disk-brake too. Anyway, it all seems a bit more stable now, so hopefully it'll hold...I think? Aah yes, then there's the wind! We seem to have been riding into a relentless headwind for days now, combined with the manic driving of the Sudanese (and the nasty pain I have in my thigh and lower back...) it's all proving to be a bit of a strain! (On the brain too) Unable to go any further as we hit the heat of the day, we stopped at a farm and had a rest on some cots in a cool conical-roofed building (rondawel for those of you from SA!)...but awoke drenched in sweat as the temperature had soared to over 40'C. The farmer brought us some chai to wash down the tomato, onion and tuna salad we'd made ourselves. When we did eventually set off again, we discovered a rest-stop just around the corner! (Doh!) So we stopped again and ate more before tackling the nasty headwind, again! Unable to face another "fuul" we cooked ourselves "rozza blubba" (Egyptian rice-pudding) instead for dinner and bedded down in a dry river bed, out of sight, for the night... |
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Simon : 27 March 2007 The truth about crossing the Nubian desert - Riders on the Storm - hunger and hospitality - Abu Hamed and swimming in the Nile - tea and the long road to Khartoum There is a simple reason why few people attempt the desert crossing between Wadi Halfa and Abu Hamed in northern Sudan: this is no place for man, let alone bicycles. A railway line connects these two towns across almost 400km of desert, a vast stretch of boiling sands and strong winds that somehow manage to cause both despair and elation with equal measure. Encouraged by stories of a good road that would enable us to avoid the difficulties of the traditional route along the Nile to Dongola, we decided to follow this route. As it is, conditions on both roads were greatly exaggerated and having found the desert road completely unridable for the thick sand, we clung to the railway line, pushing and cajoling our bikes and bodies onwards. We left Wadi Halfa - a non-descript town on the edge of Lake Nasser, its lack of character hidden by frequent sand storms - with 12 liters of water each, enough we hoped to reach Station 6 at mid-way where our map told us there was a good water supply. With bikes heavy from the extra water and food we set off optimistic about making the crossing in four days. A fairly rapid start soon gave way to small steps forward that after hours barely seemed like progress. The path either side of the railway line was usually no more than 30cm wide, made difficult by exposed sleepers and soft blown sand. The thick sand combined with heavy bikes - handling made twitchy by water bottles strapped everywhere - meant that often we were reduced to pushing our bikes at a pitiful 5 km/h, 20 km at a time. Where we could ride, we fell often, legs cut and bruised. On day two we fought a sand storm, ferocious winds whipping up the sand and reducing visibility to one meter in places. The sand on our bodies formed a hard paste as it mixed with sweat in the 45 degree heat and we pushed on hoping to reach shelter at one of the few manned stations along the railway line. These stations have supplies of Nile water, brought there by the train (an old diesel dinosaur not much quicker than us) which passes about once a day, and we filled up our bottles as we went. Without them we would not have made Station 6 as we could only ever manage between 40 and 60 km a day, a far cry from the 100km we had planned. Despite the difficulties of this route it is a wonderful thing to stand alone in silence and know that there are places where horizons are endless and try as you might, you will have no impact on this land. At night, stars in clear skies rise up from the lowest point in the horizon, arching over you until your eyes are made dizzy as you try to follow them all. Here we would lie exhausted but always happy, sleeping in this vacant place and waking with the sunrise. Though exhaustion may weaken emotions, we were constantly moved by the hospitality of the Sudanese. They may live in a listless inferno, but the people we met here were generous, kind and happy people. They have a concept of hospitality that was maybe once practiced elsewhere but has been forgotten. Perhaps it is because people by necessity are so reliant on each other here that there has developed a wonderful kinship with travelers. Once a day the train would pass and ask if we needed anything, giving us bread; at the manned stations our requests for any food (dates, bread, pancakes and broth) when we had run out were always honored, offers of money angrily refused. Guilty at having nothing to give these people we took photos and promised to send them (at Station 6 Matmhil is proud of his old, black telephone and insists I take his photo with it). Although we arrived at Abu Hamed with relief, small acts of kindness assume huge significance when one is tired and a little worried about the road ahead, and these people will always be remembered. One evening as we prepared camp the only truck of the day veered off course to check up on us. Abdul and his two friends bounded out with smiles to embrace each of us, and for once we were able to return some kindness by brewing them tea (always black, lots of sugar). Abdul is animated and we talk about everything as the sun sets, his English good. Sanctions are in force here and memories of the American attack on a Khartoum pharmaceuticals company still fresh. He has no love for Americans and declares one would be in danger around Sudanese, but I cannot believe it coming from a man who hugged strangers before asking their names or nationality. Rather it is the common cry of a man against a world that moves too fast for places like this, and we will hear it again and again. After seven days we reached Abu Hamed, camping in the grounds of the railway company. Here we meet a helpful South African and Zimbabwean couple (Billy Brenchley and Christy Henchie) who are traveling by horse from the most northern to southern points of Africa. An impressive journey that will take them years (http://www.africanhoofprints.com/). I finally got to swim in the Nile - something I had been dreaming of doing for the last week - and it is cathartic to feel the dust and heat of the desert wash away. The road is tarred from Abu Hamed to Khartoum and we settle into a rhythm dictated by the sun. It is not possible to ride after 11:30 am and before 3:30pm as temperatures are in the mid-40s, although it is not always possible to find shade so sometimes we lie panting under a groundsheet, the water in our bottles barely drinkable. Perversely, tea has become our drink of choice, drinking up to eight sweet cups a day. Eating is a communal affair in Sudan, and on our last stop outside Khartoum we are invited to join some mechanics and truck drivers for lunch. We combine our large bowls of food and eight right hands grasp simultaneously at the slippery pancake and broth mix, ripping pieces of bread to scoop up sauce. The importance of the right hand is clear when, with right hand still in the bowl, one man clears the dirty ground of rotten food and rubbish so that we can squat comfortably. Somehow, these things no longer matter. On the ferry to Wadi Halfa I found an out-of-date English Times newspaper (a god-send!). In it was an article on why people travel and explore, and it struck a chord. Even if little of the world today is unknown, far off places can still seem magical to those who urge to travel there, even if those places may defeat them. The author quoted Eliot: we travel to 'arrive where we started, and know that place for the first time'. Entering Khartoum we dice the traffic and taxis that have Ben Hur-style spikes attached to their hubcaps. There is a serious battle of the cola brands here, Pepsi it seems is marginally ahead. Gleaming white United Nations 4x4s cruise the tree-lined avenues and there are many signs of affluence, probably oil money from the south. Sudan has an image problem brought about by a government in constant conflict with its own people and African neighbors, yet behind this there is a country of wonderfully kind people who deserve an elevated place in this world. I hope Ethiopia offers a similar surprise! |
| Craig : 24 March 2007 : On the big hot road to Khartoum Sitting in another truck-stop café on the main (and only?) road to Khartoum, drinking tea after waking from our siesta on the hessian-strung cots in the shade...it's 40'C outside and really stifling! The alarm went off at 5.30am, though we were all awake already! In fact i'd been awake for much of the night, struggling to shed this nasty cold as it seems to settle deeper in my chest each night. (Moan, moan, complain, complain...!) We got out on the road at 7-ish this morning, after a bit of standard faff-time (no, it's not always me...honest!) and all agreed it was one of the best campsites so far. 45km down the road we caught sight of the densely grouped, steep-sided pyramids of Meroe to our left, and looked for as road to take us there from the tarmac...After just a little bit of hustle (a boy trying to sell carved pyramids and wooden daggers..yeah I really need one of those!?) we paid up and went exploring! Although quite unusual and striking from the road, the tombs were sadly a bit disapointing up close, as they'd been constructed from softer stone than other monuments we'd seen in Egypt, and as a result were adly eroded over time, despie being much "younger" than the like of Karnak, etc. Walking around them was howeve still very surreal, as the tombs are all on top of eachother, some actually touching as they jostle for position in the crowd. Back on the bikes (refusing a few camel-rides and cheap necklaces - sorry Jam!) we headed into the fierce sun in search of a lunch stop. Another brief stop in the afternoon, saw me getting a coffee Sudanese-style...individually made, on a small coal-fire and spiced with ginger...mmmm! |
| Craig : 23 March 2007 : Just outside Berber, Sudan ABDULLA MAGID came over to us this morning while we were packing up our campsite on the side of the road. He wanted to say hello and to apologise... Apologize that we'd had to sleep in a field when we should've been hosted in his house! He said that he, as all Sudanese would, felt ashamed that we had not been taken care of. and invited us into his house for tea. We gratefully declined as we waned to get onto the road early, before it was too hot...it was going to be another stinker! (Already >25'C at 7am!) He wished us well, and we set off... |
| Craig : 22 March 2007 : Berber, Sudan I'm absolutely covered in midge-bites! The little bastards got hold of my legs and feet "en mass" in Abu Hamed! (They are very stealthy...next thing you know, you look down and you have spots of blood...all over you!) And now they're starting to itch...grumph! I've had some sort of nasty chest/nasal infection for a few days now, so I'm tending to moan a lot! It wouldn't be so bad if I could get a bit more sleep and recover, but the days are longer tha we had hoped and the going is very tough. Today is our longest day for quite some time, especially after the painfully slow days through the Nubian Desert, and we decided to change our tactics a bit and rise at 5.30am so we could get out onto the road when it's first light enough to ride. We filled our water where possible (you never know how far it may be to the next water-point...and I gave a bottle or two to a man on the side of the road who was waiting hopefully in the sweltering heat for a lift of some sort. I feel compelled to do what I can for the Sudanese people as they have been so kind and generous to us... The water points here are great! Water is kept in clay pots, under shady encloshures, and slowly seeps through causing an evaporative cooling effect...result...wonderfully cool water! We've long since stopped worrying about treating our water, and just drink what everyboday else does...wate from the Nile! Second good deed of the day came along when a man's kiffeya blew off as he waved to me from the back of as passing truck. I grabbed it and road back up to where they had stopped to a loud chorus of "chokran!" from all aboard. Today we siesta'd under a thorn tree before tackling the final stint of te day into the city of Berber to eat and stock up on supplies. |
| Craig : 15 March 2007 : Station 5, Nubian Desert, Sudan I woke up feeling a bit rough this morning, but not surprising after yesterday's tough ride! Little did I/we know quite how tough this route was going to be...We seemed to do quite well for the first few km's, but then the sandy road became softer and lighter, and the steady cross-wind whipped up into a sand-storm! At times the visibilty was down to 1-2metres! At the 35km mark, tired and hungry, we set up an impromptu shelter to try to get some respite from the sand, dust and wind...not even worried about the sun at this point! The sand got into everything...including my camera...and it gave up the ghost altogether! After our tea break we came to the realisation that the road ahead was completely unrideable...so we pushed...and pushed...and pushed! After a while I became quite good at balancing my bike on the metal-rail as I walked beside it...a skill that would stand me in good stead many times again! But it involves staring at the 1 metre of rail/road in front of you and you develope a sort of tunnel-vision so that when you do stop, the horizon appears to rush away from you! Eventually at Station 5, we set up the stove, ate rice, drank a tea (brewed by the friendly station-master!) and tucked into handfuls of dates! (ALso courtesy of the station-master...such great people!) Realising how tired we were, and how late it was, we opted to stay the night here and get a resh start in the morning...welcome to the desert!! |
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