Daves' Big Adventure
Like most good stories this one needs a disclaimer: I’m fine mom, I’m in camp safe and sound, nothing to worry about here. So, I was feeling pretty good this morning. The day was supposed to be fairly short and the gods of shuffle seemed to be shining on me (lots of Pigface, NOFX and Optimus Rhyme).So I’m flying along when I discovered that there was a bit of a cock up with the instructions for the day. Everyone thought we were supposed to go right at a fork in the road when we were really supposed to go left. This meant that all the really fast racers who are always way ahead of me had gone the wrong way. They had already learned of the mistake and were turning around to go the correct way. Since I’m slower than them I hadn’t yet had the opportunity to go the wrong way. Suddenly, I think I’m in the lead, and I’m feeling strong. Maybe today is the day for that stage win that I had largely resigned myself to never seeing. Since there’s alot of free time to daydream when riding a bike long distances I began to think about my upcoming win. I’m not even halfway to lunch yet and already I’m counting my chickens. I figured I’d need to skip lunch to even stand a chance of doing this. “I’m too sexy for lunch!”, that’s what I’ll yell as I barrel by.
The road is a miserable dirt/gravel nightmare, but that’s why I got themountain bike. Occasionally there’s a nice little single track beside the road(it’s just a little path that the locals walk/bike on that is so much smootherthan the actual street). Whenever possible I hop on there and start really moving. In addition to being easier to ride on it’s also cooler. I get to go into the little villages we pass by, sometimes a little too closely. I feel like I’m about to ride into someone’s house every now and again. The one drawback to riding the single track is the thorns. Inch long daggers that can find the weak spot in any tire line the sides of the track. Big surprise, Iwind up with a flat. While I’m fixing it people start passing me. I get thefront tire back on only to discover that the rear one also has a puncture. So I take that one off and discover that it has three holes in it (how the hell did that one not go flat first?). I put 3 patches on it, by now most of the people riding have passed me. Guess what, the front one went flat again. Any thoughts of finishing in the top 20 are out the window. I put two more patches on the front tire and think I’m ready to go. I’m riding along, about 2km till lunch when the back tire goes flat once again. Maybe I can get DFL (Dead Fuckin’ Last) instead. I decide to just walk my bike the rest of the way to lunch, eat some food, and then deal with my latest problem.
At lunch my friend, Cat, is telling me about her contact problems and how she won’t be riding the rest of the day. Since I ran outta spare tubes ages ago, and getting my bike back in working order seems virtually impossible we agree to swap bikes for the rest of the day. Cat’s bike is like riding a big fluffy tank. It’s got a big cushy seat, 29er wheels, ergonomic handgrips (with aerobars), and I’m pretty certain there’s a pillow for your head somewhere on it. It also weighs roughly a ton,the trunk (of course there’s a trunk) has everything in it I could possiblyneed and quite a few things I can’t even figure out a use for, but might comein handy. So I head out determined to finish the day, all thoughts of racing are gone, especially since the really fast racers are probably already in camp.
I’m riding along on a single track that seems really awesome, it’s clear of thorns and smooth as can be. It does seem to be getting further and further from the road though. I keep going on it. I’m making great time; who cares if I don’t know where I’m going? The track takes me through cornfields, sunflower patches and villages. It’s beautiful. Then midway through another cornfield it abruptly ends. It has to continue on the other side of the field, why wouldn’t it? So I kinda pick my way through and around the corn to the end of the patch.
The path is nowhere to be seen, but I know roughly where the road is so it shouldn’t be too difficult to connect back up with it. The idea of backtracking to where my single track ended doesn’t even enter my mind. The only logical way to go is forward, the fact that there’s no longer a path is just a minor
hindrance. I am now walking Cat’s bike through fields of wildflowers and melon patches. That’s when I come to my first impenetrable thorn bush. It seems to continue for a good 100 yards in either direction. No problem, I know which way the road is supposed to be, I should be able to go in roughly that direction and get around this. I do eventually get around it, but then find another one to deal with. It looks like I’m going to have to climb over the impenetrable thorn bush (ITB). If someone ever recommends that you climb over an ITB punch
them in the nose, because it’s an insanely bad idea, especially if you are pushing the heaviest bike known to man.
Now I’m bleeding profusely, but I’m on the other side of the ITB, should be smooth sailing back to the road. I walk a ways further, through another sunflower patch and there’s giant thorn trees to deal with. I manage after several different tries to get around them only to discover yet more ITBs. I’m starting to get a little nervous now. I still know where the road should be but how one gets to it is beginning to worry me. Also getting back to my nice easy single track no longer seems like a possibility. So I wander some more looking for some way through and discover bike tracks. I follow them for a while till I realize that they’re my tracks and I’m going in circles. Fuck! I am truly beginning to freak out a bit now.
I’m not getting out of this one without some assistance. I shout, “jambo!” at the top of my lungs. Jambo is Swahili
for hello (it’s also just a wonderful thing to shout, next time you’re lost I would highly recommend giving it a try, you’ll still be lost, but you’ll feel better). I yell it a few more times while wandering before I hear a very faint 'jambo' in reply. I run through thickets and over brambles in my haste to see
another human. I find a farmer, my savior, and ask him if he knows where the road is. He doesn’t speak any English and I’ve exhausted my supply of Swahili with my greeting. In a horrendously bad game of charades I try to make him
understand that I’m lost and need to find the road. I was mistaken before he does know one word in English, “money!”. “Sure, I’ll pay you when we get to the road”. And we’re off. He races through tiny paths that I never would have noticed on my own while I struggle to keep up pushing Cat’s bike. Eventually he realizes that I’m lagging behind and he pushes the bike. I’m still having a hard time keeping up, what do they put in the water here to make guys so fast?I follow him through 3 different cornfields, a wildflower field or two, and a sunflower patch before we get to a village. My guide shouts out something in Swahili which I think roughly translates as, “look at the idiot I found in my cornfield”. All the people in town dutifully come out of their homes to stare at me. With a rather sheepish grin I wave at them. We go through two more small villages and repeat the process. Any time I try to engage eero in conversation he looks at me for a while before repeating his entire repertoire of English, “money”. Apparantly chit chat costs extra. We walk for 40 minutes to an hour before arriving at the road. I’m not certain if it actually should have taken that long or if he figured that I would pay more for a longer trip. Either way I gladly pay him, I’m even tempted to kiss him or the road. I can’t figure out which I’ll catch nastier diseases from so I elect to keep my lips to myself. I bid my guide a fond farewell and ride off.
I come to a town a ways up the road and see Knut, Hilda, and Gerald at a coke store. I enjoy a mirinda while telling them of my mornings debacle. They’ve also had problems with flats which is why they’re so far behind everyone else. They thought they were the last people of the day and were quite surprised to see me pull up. We ride off to camp together and get there without too much more difficulty. I finally pull in
at 4:30 several hours after most people have arrived (there was a time this morning that I actually thought I might win this race). Now all I have to do is; fix my bike, set up my tent, tend to my wounds, and eat dinner. All so I can do something incredibly similar tomorrow. Why did I decide to ride across Africa again?
Dave Arman
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Posted March 28, 2010 by Tour d'Afrique Ltd.
Tanzania | Tour Updates |
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