• Your cycling day is obsessed with where your next Coke stop is. –Kristen
• You always put something down on your chair to save it, no matter where you are. –Bonnie
• All your pockets have toilet paper in them. –Erika
• You’re thinking about where in your home you’re going to install a red box. –Harrison
• You only have 1 tent peg left. –Beryl
• You pick up a stray bra and know exactly who it belongs to. –Mel
• You take a hotel room and still pitch a tent in the middle of the room. –Jamie
• Someone offers a chocolate caramel nut PVM bar and you turn it down (because when they first became available, they were a big hit). –Mel
• You do the sniff test to determine your cleanest/dirtiest clothes, which also applies to your eating utensils, drinking utensils, and the pieces of toilet paper in your pocket. –Debbie
• You’re able to wear the same pair of socks 3 days (6 days for others) in a row, no problem. –Cindy
• Your glasses are held together by scotch tape in 2 places, and you’ve run out of duct tape. –Bruno
Things you’ll miss about the TDA experience:
• Eating a lot, all the time, and not thinking twice about it.
• Seeing a new countryside every day, meeting new people, and the simplicity of life. It’s fun to be on the road all the time. I have to go back and find a job and work all the time. You also get to eat a lot because you get a good workout every day and burn it off. –Kristen
• The lack of responsibility. Living moment by moment, not thinking of the past or future, taking things as they come, with no family problems or pressures. –Beryl & Bonnie
• Fanta –Harrison
• Coke. I’ve developed an addiction. (person wants to remain anonymous)
• No phone, no TV, little internet.
• The TDA staff.
• The cycling, everyday, with no other preoccupation than eating, drinking, and sleeping. The company of so many other crazy people, wanting nothing other than this very thing. –Bruno
• The powdered milk. I carry a can of milk with me, just in case I find a tea stop. In fact, I eat powdered milk plain, by the teaspoonful. –Mel (disgusting, Mel!)
• No need for me to shop, groceries or otherwise. I hate shopping. –Beryl
• The truck drivers. They’ve been great.
• Some of the people. You miss some of the people all the time, all of the people some of the time, but not all the people all the time. With some people, there’s been an amazing camaraderie. I’ll miss them. –Jamie
• The big pots of brewed coffee. –Cindy
• African sunsets.
• Someone who knows how to change a flat on my bike.
• Duncan
• Duncan’s melodious tones, calling the “rider meeting!”
• Not being married. –Jamie
• Cycling kilometers on end, without restriction. That sense of freedom in cycling, of the open road. How am I going to cycle at home?
• Being in a different place every day. You don’t get bored. If you’re in a crappy camp, it doesn’t matter, because you leave the next day. –Beryl
In some ways we are sick of pitching our tents, sleeping on the ground and sitting on the saddle, but the thought of ending our experience of cycling across the African continent is bittersweet. It is a sweet thought of returning home to creature comforts, old friends and family. The bitterness comes when thinking of leaving a life of having nothing to do but ride a bike. We can’t believe it, but tomorrow, we’re going to arrive in Cape Town! Wow!
• Your cycling day is obsessed with where your next Coke stop is. –Kristen
• You always put something down on your chair to save it, no matter where you are. –Bonnie
• All your pockets have toilet paper in them. –Erika
• You’re thinking about where in your home you’re going to install a red box. –Harrison
• You only have 1 tent peg left. –Beryl
• You pick up a stray bra and know exactly who it belongs to. –Mel
• You take a hotel room and still pitch a tent in the middle of the room. –Jamie
• Someone offers a chocolate caramel nut PVM bar and you turn it down (because when they first became available, they were a big hit). –Mel
• You do the sniff test to determine your cleanest/dirtiest clothes, which also applies to your eating utensils, drinking utensils, and the pieces of toilet paper in your pocket. –Debbie
• You’re able to wear the same pair of socks 3 days (6 days for others) in a row, no problem. –Cindy
• Your glasses are held together by scotch tape in 2 places, and you’ve run out of duct tape. –Bruno
Things you’ll miss about the TDA experience:
• Eating a lot, all the time, and not thinking twice about it.
• Seeing a new countryside every day, meeting new people, and the simplicity of life. It’s fun to be on the road all the time. I have to go back and find a job and work all the time. You also get to eat a lot because you get a good workout every day and burn it off. –Kristen
• The lack of responsibility. Living moment by moment, not thinking of the past or future, taking things as they come, with no family problems or pressures. –Beryl & Bonnie
• Fanta –Harrison
• Coke. I’ve developed an addiction. (person wants to remain anonymous ïŠ)
• No phone, no TV, little internet.
• The TDA staff.
• The cycling, everyday, with no other preoccupation than eating, drinking, and sleeping. The company of so many other crazy people, wanting nothing other than this very thing. --Bruno
• The powdered milk. I carry a can of milk with me, just in case I find a tea stop. In fact, I eat powdered milk plain, by the teaspoonful. –Mel (disgusting, Mel!)
• No need for me to shop, groceries or otherwise. I hate shopping. –Beryl
• The truck drivers. They’ve been great.
• Some of the people. You miss some of the people all the time, all of the people some of the time, but not all the people all the time. With some people, there’s been an amazing camaraderie. I’ll miss them. –Jamie
• The big pots of brewed coffee. –Cindy
• African sunsets.
• Someone who knows how to change a flat on my bike.
• Duncan
• Duncan’s melodious tones, calling the “rider meeting!â€
• Not being married. –Jamie
• Cycling kilometers on end, without restriction. That sense of freedom in cycling, of the open road. How am I going to cycle at home?
• Being in a different place every day. You don’t get bored. If you’re in a crappy camp, it doesn’t matter, because you leave the next day. –Beryl
In some ways we are sick of pitching our tents, sleeping on the ground and sitting on the saddle, but the thought of ending our experience of cycling across the African continent is bittersweet. It is a sweet thought of returning home to creature comforts, old friends and family. The bitterness comes when thinking of leaving a life of having nothing to do but ride a bike. We can’t believe it, but tomorrow, we’re going to arrive in Cape Town! Wow!
We are enjoying yet another most excellent Coke stop…this one complete with apple strudel, cheesecake, coffee, sunshine stunning scenery. These landscapes you wouldn’t believe at all. If this Coke stop combined with hilly dirt road and occasional sand pits to swerve through are not enough to keep you entertained—there’s always the corn crickets.
Attack of the corn critters! Visualize one of the nastiest insects you can. Now make it crunchy and double its size. Now conjure them in swarming the road and occasionally on your Camelbak. Seriously, these creatures of the dark resemble something from a sci-fi horror movie. If they were enlarged to human size you could see in detail their horrendous appearance—segmented armored bodies, hairy legs, too-long antenna, yellow guts. Simply put, they are creepy.
I personally had three on my tent (not the fly, but on the netting, so I could see the undersides of their bodies) and had to quickly remove one from inside my tent last night. We’ve had games with these armored crickets since Botswana The games consist of either attempting to avoid them or purposely hit them, the latter spraying yellow guts all over tires and frames, legs and shoes. Rod and Dave Pennington had personal bests of squashing over a hundred each, arriving into camp scraping sticky corn critter pieces off their legs.
The camp is firmly divided into two groups: one on a save the corn cricket campaign. They use guilt trips and are morally opposed to the vicious attacks on such helpless creatures. The other faction sees corn cricket’s inherent entertainment value. Daily contests consist of hitting just one leg of one or using the shovel to practice baseball or cricket skills (depending on nationality) is remarkably good fun.
Somehow we’re already at the end of another section. Wow, the kilometers and time are flying by! Unfortunately, we’re going to be losing 8 sectional riders, including John, who’s been with us since Arusha, and 8 of our French guys, who’ve spent just the Elephant Highway with us. They easily covered a lot of ground, though, topping out with our 207 kilometer day. Not bad, guys, congratulations!
We’ve left another country behind as well (Botswana), and today entered the capital city of Namibia, Windhoek, where we’ll spend the next 2 rest days. People have big plans, some culminating with a trip to KFC, something people have been looking forward to since Egypt! We’ve hit fried chicken places before now, but not Kentucky Fried Chicken, so it’s going to be a big treat. Funny the things that come to mean so much to you while traveling. Others are planning to head to Swakopmund, a picturesque town on the coast, filled with adventure activities like sandboarding and skydiving. Otherwise, it’s the usual rest day activities, gorging on whatever strikes one’s fancy, doing laundry (I hear there are even coin-operated washing machines somewhere!), reading, finding the internet, sleeping in, etc.
After our rest days (2 in a row!), we’ve just 1 section left (the Diamond Coast), 2 countries (Namibia and South Africa), and 1,598 kilometers. I can’t believe it, but we’re in the countdown stages….
Last week, I spoke of the most fabulous Coke stops we’ve had along the way. Let me tell you, the Coke stops in Botswana have dried up—there’s hardly any people around, so there’s nowhere to stop, get off the bike, take in the view, chat, relax, and get geared up for the kilometers ahead. However, we just experienced the Taj Mahal, the Serengeti, the Everest of Coke stops.
Not only did we have access yesterday, to a clean, modern and comfortable campsite. Also access to showers, a pool and a bar, but we also today had a pool stop at 105k—yes a pool stop. After the last few days of long kilometers (170 today, 170 yesterday, 145 the day before), hot sun (though cool nights), no Coke stops (though we’ve set up refreshment stands with fruit and fast fuel), to come across such an oasis, after lunch and before a bush campsite, is beyond description. Many of us stayed for a couple hours, swimming, relaxing on the deck, drinking juice, beer or Fantas. We even enjoyed fantastically comfortable cow hide chairs and took in the “Drum†magazine photos and chandeliers made out of green Amstel bottles. Ahhh, how refreshing! Most are of the opinion that it is the preeminent Coke stop, hands down.
We’re definitely becoming spoiled with showers between rest days, access to a variety of food, snacks, and pools, of all things. Tomorrow, we’ve got 150k to get to Maun, followed by a rest day. In the meantime, we’ll have a good team time trial to run, where 4 people have to race together for 20k, with whatever creative costumes and themes they conceive.
It’s incredible how important food is on expeditions, especially trips with physical activity as its main component. In fact, food can easily alter moods, bringing you up when you’re finally able to find some ice cream, or bringing you down when you’re unable to fulfill your craving for (fill in blank here). Truly, we eat fabulously, with our amazing chef Jon turning out amazing dishes, especially considering the resources and facilities available and having to cook for 90 people who eat like 180. Still, there are always certain treats or certain foods that people fantasize over; there’s been many a conversation I’ve overheard with people speaking of the last magical meal consumed or ultimate dessert to lust over.
One of the things that can alter how you feel about a cycling day is the amount of Coke stops along the way. Sometimes, it’s utterly necessary to have an excuse to stop, to take a break and rest and drink something cool and sugary. Many people claim to not even like Coke at home, but when you’re in the middle of the desert in Sudan, and the heat is bearing down on you, and you just need something besides fermenting fast fuel (our Gatorade substitute) to keep you going, Coke does the trick. Sometimes you even find a fabulous spot with chocolates or chipatis or chips to keep you going.
Here’s what people had to say in response to the questions of: “What’s been your favorite Coke stop?†and “What’s been your food fantasy?â€
Kerri—Ethiopia. At a hotel, everyone converged, and I had the best macchiato; I had 3. It was frickin’ amazing. We were on the patio and got to sit outside.
Mom’s roast beef meal, with mashed potatoes and apple pie.
Mark—our very 1st Coke stop, in Sudan, because it was very unexpected, cold, and cheap. We were in the desert, there was nothing else for 100k’s and suddenly a Coke stop appeared.
Roast chicken, the way mother cooks it.
Rick—in northern Tanzania. The host/owner of the little facility, she was very outgoing, not shy to be even photographed with westerners. She actually came out and put her arm around us. It was good fun; she was gregarious and very open.
Homemade pancakes, with real maple syrup, French toast, crepes. I love breakfast.
Clive—that night when we didn’t get back in time to put me tent up. It was spontaneous, we met local people and we danced. I don’t know how many beers; an unknown quantity of beer was drunk. Staff and the rest of our group turned up and we were still there and it continued from the afternoon into the night.
Chocolate, really, Bounty. Tempo—the local choc from South Africa. Truly, I really miss a good pint of British real ale. I’ve been very satisfied, I’ve been eating well, more than at home.
Josh—in Sudan, when riding in the middle of nowhere, around a roundabout with a pillar in the middle, on the left hand side, where there were falafels. He had hard boiled eggs, ran his thumb into the pita, and stuffed the hard-boiled eggs in with his sanitary thumb.
KFC—a bucket. I had a dream that Goose (Alec) got a bucket of KFC and he brought it back to camp, but just the bucket, not the KFC.
Joya—where I got the camel ride. Not really for the Coke, it was for the ride.
Today’s cycling: a relatively easy 145k, smooth tarmac, nice tailwind, felt like a lot of downhill, no problems. Crossing the border into Zambia took a wee while, but we’re now at a great campsite with grass and shade and showers.
It’s funny how primitive you become on a trip like this, a trip like this meaning traveling through 3rd world countries and tenting it. Little things remind you of your idea of civilization, like having a convenience store at the gas (sorry, petrol) station or access to exciting things like plumbing. Especially with the first half of the trip, through less western countries, we’ve reverted to caring for our basic needs, consumed with ideas of food and toilets. Much of our conversation revolves around such topics and the amenities forthwith. We’ve even regressed to the bartering system, with Snickers (readily available from Egypt onwards) and toilet paper being hot commodities. Perhaps you simply need to find a sucker to trade your lemon lime PVM energy bars for the chocolate strawberry, like a kid in elementary school.
As for toilets, you’d be amazed at where we’ve created personal latrines along the way. Personally, I prefer the shovel, taking it to a well-scoped out spot (after all, you’ve got to think about privacy, how hard the ground is, if hyenas are going to go running by, if it has a good view), digging my hole, doing my business, burying it, and being on my merry way. I don’t consider it so dirty, in the bushes or in the desert or in the open air, as in some nasty public toilet that is anything but sanitary. (There’s a lot of diarrhea among us!)
Then you’ve got the squattie-potties, which we’ve learned to use effectively, though it does take a bit of practice—believe me, people are now leaps and bounds better than previously with their aim. Recently, these long-drop toilets have been much cleaner, equipped at times with flushers or toilet paper even and sometimes a sink to wash your hands! Luxury! (You see how far our thought processes have degenerated? All we need to be happy is a bit of t.p. and some soap.)
Now if we’re really talking, you might even end up somewhere with a toilet, something you can sit on if you like, that might even have a mirror somewhere so you can see exactly how dirty you are or how fabulous of a hair day you’re enjoying. We didn’t start seeing mirrors until Ethiopia, really; I was a bit taken aback by my own face by that point in time, though others have utilized bike mirrors or some such to shave. I did, however, recently exploit a dirty bathroom sink in order to wash my clothes by hand, something I would never, ever consider doing at home. Then again, at home I probably wouldn’t then hang my undies out to dry around others, either. I laughed when the young guys on our trip took down their personals, shall we say, from their tents when another group of people rolled into our campsite the other day. It was fine to hang around the TDA people, but not so fine to exhibit to outside young people.
Anyway, these are just a few examples of our primitive and insular lifestyle. As we cycle along, we’re entering more and more westernized areas, complete with traffic lights, ice cream, large grocery stores and swimming pools, so I’m sure we’ll easily transition to such extravagance.
What’s been the most challenging part of TDA thus Far?
Connor: Passing quickly through each place. You might like the people you meet or a place like Lake Malawi, and want to stay longer, but you have to keep moving
Joya: The smelly clothes after you wash them and then you can’t dry them.
Wouter: Doing your laundry (specifically your orange chamois) and cleaning your bike on rest days…especially after a party.
Chris Willie: Staying healthy and riding hard day after day after day.
Bernd: I’ve had more days with diarrhea than without.
Diana: Too many men around; its hard to decide which one. Also passing by photo moments and not being able to take them.
Deb Menzies: Being away from Jim and my family this long
Ashleigh: The Shovel. The constipation brought on by my disdain for the shovel.
(Writers Note: The shovel is what one uses to dig a hole to bury your poop. As I’ve said before, all conversation eventually reverts to pooping.)
What every sectional rider needs to know
-Who are the people who snore and what does their tent looks like
-Know the people who get up at 5am or earlier.
-Bring a big tent for comfort’s sake and privacy…It’s your home.
-The three person tent is key. Purge clothing to make it fit in your red box.
-Know who the late night talkers are.
-Know the people who like to pee directly behind of their tent.
-Don’t ever trade Rum and Raisin PVM bars unless you are on the giving end.
-Don’t worry about diarrhea…we all get it.
-Plan on showering once a week. Embrace the dirt. Bring many wet wipes.
-If your section includes off-road, bring a bike with front suspension.
-Be prepared for nudity and saddle sore exams.
-Don’t be scared about the barbarity of our conversations. Poop is the main topic of discussion
-Anything you bring can be potentially broken, soaked or stolen. This tends to happen to digital cameras the most.
-Approximately 110km for the day can mean 120km…mentally prepare yourself.
-At dinner, eat firsts while you are standing in line for seconds.
-Don’t use the dishwashing tubs to wash your clothes.
So I’ve had a few complaints about the website being way too optimistic, not telling it like it is. Thus, here’s a list of things that we could whine about, that drives us crazy, that are annoying or frustrating or discouraging.
Number 1: KIDS!! The kids of Ethiopia have been driving us crazy, not only because of the absolute, constant harassment of “you, you, you!†being screamed at you, or “hello, hello, hello!†or “Give me money! Give me money!†Then, let’s add in the kiddos who chase after you, either yelling encouragement or just to race you up a hill or to give you a push or to steal something out of your rear rack. No, all this gets discouraging, just from the repetition throughout the day, as you say “hello†or “salamno†50 million times, or just try to raise your hand weakly in a quick wave as you cycle up a hill to the 17,000th kid who refuses to stop saying “you, you, you!†despite the response you’ve already given. Now, let’s add to that the violent kids, who like to throw sticks and rocks, either innocently to get your attention, in a misguided attempt to herd you as they do all the donkeys and goats, or simply to hurt you. Kathleen in particular nursed a nice bruise on her thigh, from a rock thrown from a cliff, that must’ve hit with some impact, because it’s the size of a black and blue softball. Of course, it doesn’t help that the adults, if they see kids harassing you, also throw rocks at the kids to scare them off.
Number 2: The annoyance of always having eyes staring at you, invading your privacy. We’ve come to the point that we have to put up a perimeter line around the lunch truck and our camps at night, due to how intensely curious people are about the ferengis (foreigners) who’re dressed up in odd costumes, putting up tents, cooking, sleeping, trying to find somewhere to do their business. Even at Coke stops, you’ll be surrounded by an entire crowd of kids and adults, who’re very interested in who you are and where you’re going. That’s another question that gets old after the 86th person asks, “Where you go?†and continues to ask after you’ve already responded with “Moyale†or “up the hill†or “Mars.â€
Number 3: What goes through your head on a discouraging day. The sun is too hot. My flesh is being broiled as I cycle along. I’m sun burnt today, from that stupid doxycycline (malaria pills). This uphill is never going to be over and my legs are burning, my lungs are burning, my skin is burning. Alternatively, it’s too flat, there’s nothing to look at. I’m bored on the bike. My body is exhausted. Where’s the lunch truck? It’s supposed to be at 70k, but my speedometer says 72.6, it’s nowhere in sight, and I want to get off this bike NOW. What’s that roadkill? I wonder if they’ll have tuna at lunch? Should I do a combo of peanut butter and chocolate, or pb and honey? If I have to say hi to one more person…. When was the last time I put on sunscreen? God, is that another FLAT?! @$#&*
I could, of course, go on, but I’ll save more for another day. After all, not every day is perfect and fun and pleasurable.
