He came up from the river, bottle in hand, taking swigs as he walked and swishing it in his mouth and spitting onto the dusty ground.  Behind him a tuk-tuk driver was washing his vehicle on the banks of the White Nile.  The eleven of us had come here by bus earlier that morning to take a boat ride to the confluence of the White Nile, which runs North from Lake Victoria in Uganda, and the Blue Nile which starts in Lake Tana in Ethiopia.  Our host for the day were from the Khartoum YMCA, which works in partnership with the YMCA in Canada and Germany to provide English lessons and vocational training to the youth of Khartoum. 

Werner Bitzer, one of our riders who is raising money for the YMCA as part of his trip had arranged for Wageeh, the president of the Khartoum YMCA, to take us to a Camp for internally displaced persons earlier that day. The camp, originally built for 70 people, now hosts about 300 orphans mostly from the south of Sudan.  The camp amounted to not much more than as shanty town of loosely built mud brick buildings and shacks built from scrap wood and burlap sacks. 
The YMCA plays a critical role in supplementing the diet of the residents and also provides qualified teachers to the population there.  As many as 3 families share a area not much bigger than 8 meters square.  While the conditions are squalid and difficult, there is a sense of community and hope.  My emotions are so mixed they are difficult to understand.  But I am glad to have had the opportunity to visit this place and learn more about the Sudan. 

The young man approached us from river, drinking from the bottle he had filled in the Nile.  The water was murky and didn't look safe to drink.  He offered me a taste but I politely refused.  He said something to Wageeh in Arabic that I didn't understand.  "he says he want you to drink from the Nile, because is is said that once you drink from the Nile, you will always return to Sudan"  The sentiment was so nice, I took the bottle and drank.  "Inshallah" I said, if God wills.

The Tour d’Afrique 2009 has arrived in Khartoum. Riders are enjoying their rest day and making good use of the shower facilities to scrub the grit and grime of the past week off their sunburned bodies. Everyone approached Khartoum with a sense of guarded optimism. Certain cities just emanate a sense of exotic wonder; Kathmandu, Beijing and Istanbul for instance. Khartoum is another one that should automatically be on such a list but it often falls to the wayside as a symptom of the difficulty in reaching it. While the physical challenges of getting here are pretty insignificant: all you have to do is fly to Cairo, and cycle for several weeks across sun baked roads in +30 temperatures across two deserts, hitch a ride on a floating electronics/ livestock depot masquerading as a passenger ferry across a manmade lake and then negotiate several hundred more kilometers of roads constructed in the style of North Vietnamese runways circa 1972. Word is that some people choose to fly into the city but between you and me that is just an urban myth. The true challenge of travelling to Sudan is actually getting permission from the government. As I am sure any current TDA rider will tell you, many a sleepless night was spent tossing and turning over whether the passport they mailed to the Sudanese embassy in their respective countries would be returned with an exotic visa so brilliant Hermes himself would be jealous or if it would be returned chopped to a million pieces like you see in those movies from the 90’s when the spendthrift daughter of some  big-shot businessman gets her credit card returned on a silver platter sliced and diced by a snooty waiter. Fortunately for us, the former situation happened.  

In the 20 days since Cairo the 2009 Tour d’Afrique team has bonded in a way that defies words. We have seen friendships form on the road that will last years and span continents. Already an intricate bartering system has been developed that would put most prisons to shame. Perhaps the best example of this is when new boxes of PVM energy bars are handed out. These boxes are stocked with 20 mixed flavours and within 30 seconds of their distribution they are cast open with about 15 people standing in a circle shouting “Strawberry! Strawberry! Who wants a strawberry? Only two caramels for my strawberry PVM bar”. Pretty much the only time Frank isn’t cracking jokes is when he is haggling over energy bars.

 

In terms of the Td’A staff, things are going swimmingly. Most of us entered Egypt as fresh faced expedition chefs, mechanics and nurses. It wasn’t long before our grizzled, wizened Tour Director Randy whipped us into shape and formed us into a crack team of onion choppers, race timers and early rising breakfast cooks who can still fix the odd impact wound from a fall, rebuild a rear derailleur or write a mean update at 11 pm surrounded by a swarm of bugs. Despite Randy’s guidance, there is always the underlying fear of our South African Indaba staff keeping us in line. While friendly to a fault, everyone on tour, staff included, knows that their kickass new trucks and valuable time are not commodities to be messed with. Speaking of the new trucks, to all you former Td’Aers out there; I think you will be interested to know that no longer are long term bags relegated to red boxes on the roof. Oh no, we have been furnished swanky on-board lockers with enough space for our smaller riders to sleep in. On this tour when we rock the bike, we rock the bike right.


Tomorrow we leave Khartoum and will very shortly be crossing into the land of coldish beer, kickass off road, and a welcome paucity of minarets waking everyone at 5am with the call to prayer. That’s right, Ethiopia lays to the east and we intrepid explorers of the African continent are ready and willing to toss another country under our belts…inshallah.

Today saw a different style of race and ride. In general, it has been a tough few days - all over 140km’s with the heat so all of us are getting a little run down. Add the bug that is passing through camp and the tour is slowly beating even the strongest down.  

We had a 10km warm up followed by a 20km time trial in which racers and expedition riders where invited to partake for the chance to win a coveted yellow ‘stage win’ plate. The results will be up later but it goes without saying it hurt, it was hot and it made me want to puke before I finished.  

This fun was followed by a 26km cruise to lunch and then a 36km convoy into Khartoum. The Sudanese Police were kind enough to escort us but insisted on blaring the lights and sirens the whole way. Add the fumes, people, donkeys, goats, dogs and the intensity of having to watch closely the rider in front so as not to take out 5-6 riders and it makes your blood boil.  

I loved every minute of it, and don’t let any one else on the tour tell you any different, to do this ride, race, expedition or whatever you want to call it you have to be a bit twisted and basically enjoy a little suffering.  

Sudan as you can probably gather from other posts has been a rare pleasure. I have not previously been lucky enough to travel through a country that rarely sees tourists. I heard from a guy that works in the Ministry of Tourism that less that a hundred US citizens apply for a visa into Sudan per year, I believe the population is 35 million, so that gives you an idea as to how rare we are in some of the villages and tea huts we’ve passed through. Ethiopia is getting closer and I know the general feeling is it can wait. As a nation the Sudanese have been gracious, hospitable, curious and more than anything else, happy.  

Today also marks the end of the first section ‘Pharaoh's Delight’ and, unfortunately, means we will be losing two of our Lone Planet sectional riders, Scott and Sharif. You will be sorely missed!!  

Rest day tomorrow. I think a sleep in till at least 8 am will be had all round.

We have spent the last few days riding through the Sahara Desert. It’s a strange thing to say and I wonder how when I get back to Canada I will be able to explain to people what this place is like. Last night I talked for an hour with one of our Lonely Planet sectional riders. He is leaving us tomorrow in Khartoum (to be replaced by another LP rider) and the conversation was poignant, broad and quite bittersweet. More bitter than sweet. We have only been in Africa as a group for 18 days and already losing a rider, even under the best of circumstances, feels wrong. It felt as if the sands of time and chance were sweeping a burgeoning compatriot away far before his time. I can’t imagine what it will be like at the finish line in Capetown. Perhaps, only 18 days into this adventure imagining the finish line is premature.

Anyways, being a product of the Canadian public school system I am well versed in the benefits of ‘diversity’. In fact I am pretty sure that I saw a sign last year in Sri Lanka advertising positions for diversity trainers that read:

 DIVERSITY EXPERTS WANTED

Qualifications Required:

1.      Be a Canadian junior high graduate

2.      Be willing to relocate to Sri Lanka

Now let me be brutally honest for a minute. The hardest workers on this tour are not the riders, nor the staff, but rather the family and friends of riders spread around the world. Facing the crushing distances and beating sun day after day is nothing compared to having to READ about crushing distances and beating sun day after day. I feel your pain, truly. And in that vein I have decided to throw a little ‘diversity’ your way. (I bet you were wondering what that whole diversity spiel was about above; well saddle up cowboy) So today I am going to furnish you with a step by step guide to washing yourself at the zoo in Dongola, Sudan.

Step 1. Ride for days through the Nubian Desert to get yourself into the frame of mind where a wash in a zoo sounds like a prospect just short of heaven

Step 2.  Realize that the zoo in Dongola is actually just a walled in field with animals carved out of stone.

Step 3. Be not at all disappointed by Step 2

Step 4. Locate the washing stations

Step 5. Collect the soap you stole from the hotel in Cairo that you have barely used

Step 6. Notice a gaggle of Sudanese men, women and children watching your every movement with bated breath on the other side of the zoo fence

Step 7. Wave happily as you take off your shorts and undies underneath a disastrously undersized towel

Step 8. Walk to washbasin with only aforementioned towel wrapped around waist

Step 9. Realize that you are about to bathe in a basin that is exactly the same as the ones used at mosques for pre prayer ritual washing. Take a minute to debate whether you are about to commit an act of minor sacrilege. Realize that you are in a city with 2 mosques per block and that these basins are likely bought in bulk. Proceed as planned

Step 10. Wave to your Sudanese fan club again

Step 11. Exchange pleasantries with fellow rider who is in the process of washing their clothes at the same basin that you intend to bathe in

Step 12. Turn on tap, squeal with glee at the fact that the sun you have been cursing and straining through for the past week has actually heated all the water to a pleasant temperature

Step 13. Wash yourself under a tap 1 ft off the ground as thoroughly as possible while retaining tenuous hold on last remaining shred of dignity

Step 14. Towel off

Step 15. Exchange pleasantries with fellow rider who has just returned from the pit toilet and wishes to wash hands in the communal bath/ laundry room/ washroom sink.

Step 16. Collect group of 10 fellow riders to head into town for falafels.

The best of roads, new pavement and few cars
The worst of roads, construction roads with many large trucks
Up before sunrise, breakfast at dawn
Pack tent, overnight bag, fill water bottles and RIDE
Every village has many children,
all want recognition as we ride by.
A pat on the hand, a wave, a handshake if we stop.
We follow the Nile, Nubian Desert on the East,
The great Sahara in the west
Sudan, a country full of polite and happy people
A country to savour, as it will change quickly.

Ernest Enns

SO FAR SO GOOD! For me the Sudan has just been great I’m loving it! Miles and miles of desert, sand and nothingness. It’s definitely doing something for the soul. Everyday is a new challenge; it’s either the heat, or the wind, or millions of bugs and the latest challenge are volcanic eruptions in the stomach as the happy campers call it. But everybody seems to cope well with the personal challenges they face every day.

Today’s ride was pretty much flat, very HOT and windy. Quite a long day.

The last rider just came in to camp and bailed in the sand right in front of everyone. He He  nice way to end the ride.   Looking forward to the rest of Sudan, Take Care

Tjoedel Doe

‘Damn, they must of upped the pace when I stopped’  I knew it was going to be tough to catch back on if I stopped for the picture, but the opportunity to capture a herd of 50 or 60 camels crossing the desert was just too enticing..  The road we are on today follows a popular route for driving camels, donkeys and other animals to market and the desert next to the road is littered with the carcasses of the ones that didn’t survive the journey.  It’s a bit surreal racing along at 42 km/hr surrounded by desert and the dried remains of camels, cows, dogs and donkeys but I can’t think about that now, I’ve got o catch back on before lunch or I’ll never see the front of the pack again.   

Everyone had a great rest day in Dongola.  We drank our fill of hibiscus and chai tea and ate enough fuul and goat meat to refuel our depleted energy stores from 3 hard days of off road racing.  The hospitality of the Sudanese people is amazing and has really helped everyone relax and enjoy the markets and shops to the fullest.  The pace of the race group leaving Dongola was moderate, 35km/hr with all 17 of us rotating and sharing the work.  When I stopped for the photo I thought it would be easy to catch back on but I’ve been pedaling at top speed for 20 minutes and even though I can see ahead for 2km, the front group is nowhere in sight. 

 

I can picture the group in my head.  Alan and Nick at the front driving the pace, Brian sitting in, riding smart and planning his tactics to limit his losses or maybe take another stage win.  Malcolm and Paul would be right up front too.  The rest of the group would be sharing the work when they could but ready to slow down whenever possible, especially the mountain bikers who don’t have the proper gearing for these flat, paved sections.  Finally, I catch a few racers who have been dropped from the group.  But in a few more km I see lunch truck.  Just enough time to wolf down a quick sandwich and the racers are off again, 58 km to the finish.

 

The pace from lunch is again moderate for the first 28km, then Nick and Allan explode off the front and the chase is on.  I find Paul Porter’s wheel and stay in his draft for a bit before jumping across the gap to the lead group.  There are only five of us now off the front:  Nick, Allan, Malcolm, Paul and myself.  We quickly settle into 1 km pulls and maintain a brisk 43km/hr pace.  At 15 km to go the crosswind becomes stronger and the pedaling is hard now, but we keep pushing, trying to extend our lead.  10 km to go and the road turns again, almost full headwind now, we’re all tired.  At 2km to go we spot the finish flag but no one wants to lead out.  The headwind is too strong and whoever leads out will probably not have enough strength left for the sprint.  But Malcolm takes a gamble and jumps off the front.  No one chases, we all think he’s gone too early.  At 1km to go Malcolm still has a gap and Allan starts the chase with Nick and Paul on his wheel.  Malcolm is riding strong despite the head wind and hard efforts of the day and they can’t catch him.  Malcolm takes his first stage win of the tour followed by Allan, Nick and Paul.  Congratulations and high fives are shared as we laugh and recap the race to Mark who was at the finish line to time us.  On to camp for some hot soup, a swim in the canal and a quick game of desert cricket. 

  Tents are pitched throughout the "zoo" of Dongola. If people didn't believe it before, they sure do now: we are in Sudan. A country ostracized by the western world, and ostensibly for good reason, everyone who hadn't been here before was a least a little bit concerned about what lay on the other side of Lake Nasser. What we have found here has been the polar opposite of what we are told about this nation by CNN. Expecting men with guns and harsh stares we were greeted rather by wide smiles, handshakes and invitations for tea. Government officials stop by to collect documents or employment registries and then stop us on the street hours later for tea and conversation. 

  Today is a rest day and it hasn't come a moment too soon. Shortly after leaving our campsite in Wadi Halfa, our port of disembarkation into Sudan, we were charging down kilometer after kilometer of oppressive heat, deep sand pits and millions of gnats at our Nile bank campgrounds. A tough slog for even our strongest riders and the first few days claimed many an EFI rider. Yet, despite the hardships morale remains high. The general mood of the camp is one of happiness brought on by the delicious and ample Sudanese food, strong cups of tea and a chance to sleep in (although a sleep-in now is waking up at 8:00am).                                       Despite the warmth and hospitality of the people here I feel a sense of unease being so at peace in a country that is currently so troubled. The conflict in Darfur rages and South Sudan is still deemed unsafe (although I read recently that the government in Khartoum has issued the first license to operate a brewery for those down in the Christian south).Things aren't necessarily looking up, the International Criminal Court has announced that they plan to indict the President and as I write this update I have three Sudanese soldiers within five feet of me watching as I type. One of them cannot be over the age of 16. I truly hope for his sake and mine that the breadth of his responsibility in the military will be to oversee foreigners and occasionally patrol the streets. I have a feeling that my hopes will not be realized. 

 Tomorrow we will wake, dark and early, and leave this town for the bustling capitol of Khartoum. The dirt roads will disappear and be replaced in short order by new blacktop, the construction of which has been overseen for the past few years by the Chinese government which has been pouring money into this nouveau riche burgeoning oil state. From Khartoum we will take the Osama bin Laden highway to the Ethiopian border and a new country. From what I have seen so far I doubt many people will be eager to leave this place.

  Each participant of the Tour d'Afrique is here to conquer a personal challenge.  But their individual goals vary widely.  Some are here to be the fastest person to cycle the African continent.  Others ride each day on a photographic mission.  And some just want to experience and enjoy the diversity of cultures and geography.  Often as the tour progresses these goals change.
            What's different still, is when the tour is over, what each person will take away with them.  I'm not referring to souvenirs, but the lessons they learn about themselves and humanity in general.  The experiences on a tour of this magnitude will often alter the system of values that they carried with them to Cairo.  Not just by witnessing how Africans live, but by adjusting to the lifestyle that we maintain; riding your bike everyday not driving your car, learning to shower with a 750ml water bottle and for 120 days having all your worldly possessions in a small wooden locker.  I have recently had a personal experience that has made me rethink the material world.
            There are many challenges throughout this tour.  Some are physical and some are mental.  There are also some unforeseen hardships that amplify those daily challenges.  This is my fifth year to be involved with the Tour d'Afrique.  In these years I have lost my grandfather, I had to lead the group through the Alfons situation, and once again I was caught emotionally ill prepared.  When we crossed into the Sudan I found out that my family's cottage had burned to the ground.  This was not just my cottage, this was my home.  Anything and everything I've ever owned was kept there and now it was gone.  Now all my worldly possessions are truly contained a small wooden locker.  Upset as I have been, the lesson I have learned has nothing to do with materialism.
            Two weeks ago all the staff and participants, 61 people, were all complete strangers to each other.  But the friendships and bonds form quickly.  In past few days I have received hugs when I needed them, someone wrote me a poem and another gave me a gift, a simple token to begin again my collection random trinkets.  What impresses me is the quality of the human spirit, the willingness of the people here to help each other overcome even the most monumental of challenges.  And I realized that the support each rider receives comes not from the meals we cook, the directions we give, the mechanic, the medic or the trucks.  The best support comes from each other.     

Before I came on the Tour d’Afrique I had a few experiences that I hoped might turn to reality. As my portion of the ride is from Cairo to Khartoum, my wish list of desires were limited to the desert sections of North Africa. While I was excited to see the Pyramids and the other wonders of antiquity in Egypt – it was the mystical unknown of The Sudan that captured my daydreams. The two things I really wanted to find was the stunning solitude of a never ending desert stretching out as far as the eye could see. The other hope was to really challenge myself, to push myself to the limit and see how I fared in the end.

 

Today, all my hopes came true. The day dawned warm, warmer then the previous, like every day so far. Shortly after the sun was fully in the sky I started off. We rode as a pack for the first 3km while the road was mercifully paved. Soon enough the reality of Sudanese roads reared their ugly head. Enormous ruts sucked my tires into their depths, corrugations that threatened to shake the fillings out of my mouth and pits of sand that reduced travel to a humbling grovel.

 

All was going well for the first part of the morning, the riding was challenging but I was feeling good and enjoying the good challenge it provided. After 55km the desire to reach the 60km mark and the welcome sight of the lunch truck began to dominate my thoughts. Riding with Tom, we joked back and forth and talked of our desire to sit in the shade and have a cold drink.

 

Alone, together, we came upon a fork in the road. Logic steered us towards the right and our navigational handrail of The Nile. We passed through one town, then another and it started to become more and more obvious that we had in fact made a wrong turn. We talked to the locals, or as best we could with our few words in Arabic and their fewer in English. They seemed to keep pointing us in the direction we were going – so on we went.

 

After clearing the series of towns and getting back on the main-ish road, my speedometer read 70km and my thermometer read 41c. We had obviously missed the lunch truck – we were on our own, ‘lost’ somewhere in the Nubian Desert. Water was getting scarce, we had about half a bottle between us and a few energy bars to count as lunch. We passed by one town and futility searched for a drink of water, but none was to be found.

 

Just when the dark clouds of worry started to enter our collective thoughts the mirage of riders on the horizon started to approach us. Like an apparition, our comrades were never a more welcome sights. They happily shared water, snacks and Paul even brought us sandwiches in the hope of tracking us down. The rest of the day was comparatively uneventful – we stopped in the next town and skulled 7-ups like we were being paid to do it. Camp arrived 10km later and the welcome completion to the hardest day of the tour ‘so far’.

 

More then once during today’s ride I had to laugh to myself – this is exactly what I’d hope to find. There was no point in complaining, this is what I signed up for! Though the heat was stifling and the terrain was challenging to the utmost – I did find myself smiling nearly all day. The warmth of the local people and the teamwork of my fellow riders and TDA staff make even the most challenging conditions a surmountable goal.

 

Challenge, the massive expanse of sand and the stunning heat of the desert – we were all touched by those flames today. Some got burned and some escaped unscathed, but safe to say, today was a watershed stage of the tour. While few of us honestly enjoyed the ride today, it will only be in hindsight that the true achievement will come into sharp focus.

 

Tomorrow will dawn warm again and once more we will continue our journey south. There will be challenges ahead, but its days like today that will arm us with what we need to get through and perhaps, if we’re lucky, to enjoy it too.

 

-Scott Kennedy