Today we are enjoying our first rest day in the great nation of Kenya. The roads over the past few stages have been torturous on both bike and body, everyone is happy to have a day off. What's more, this is easily one of the nicest campsites we have experienced yet. We are lodged at the Kenyan Wildlife Service headquarters in Marsabit. The town is an oasis of lush rainforest on the side of a dormant volcano, surrounded by the harsh, barren Dida Gagalu desert. It is quite amazing to ride up from chalky, bumpy roads crafted from volcanic rock spewed forth from this mountain eons ago and arrive in a thriving town. What's even more amazing is that the day before yesterday we were struck by one of the most violent storms I have ever seen... in the middle of the desert. It was absolutely unreal.
           
Today while most of the riders attended to their washing, drying out their tents and shopping in the market for tonight's BBQ I was invited along on a patrol with the Kenyan Wildlife Service rangers. Now, when I think of Park Rangers my opinion is coloured by my experiences in Canada of friendly men and women manning park gates, ensuring that my park tags are up to date and reminding me that it still isn't a good idea to feed bears or encourage young children to totter up to wild Elk for that "perfect picture".

Here in Kenya, it's an entirely different story. The Kenyan Wildlife Service Rangers are dedicated, highly trained, highly armed individuals intent on protecting local animals and their environment from anything that may pose a threat. Last night, one of the officers, Jack, struck up a conversation with me. We talked about the challenges facing the Marsabit area, my experiences working with the WWF in Nepal and the differences between life in Canada and Kenya. Towards the end of our conversation I hesitantly asked if I would be able to accompany a number of his men on a patrol. He said yes, and I was overjoyed. No boring rest day for this guy.

This morning Mark Knight, Alex Shanny and myself pulled ourselves into the open canopy back of a camouflage green pickup truck alongside uniformed KWS Rangers sporting locked and loaded automatic rifles and full webbing. These guys meant business, even if it was just to take a few mzungus out on a regular patrol. Driving through the village prior to entering the patrol circuit it was clear these guys were liked and respected by the local community as we were inundated with frequent waves, smiles and shouts of "Jambo!" quickly replied to with a bellowing "Mizzuri!".

Upon entering the park we began to navigate a steep, muddy track up the volcano side, recent rains didn't help our cause as we frequently spun out and even got ourselves stuck twice. The good thing about getting stuck going up a mountain is that you can always hit it into reverse and try again, so we weren't waylaid for long. Upon reaching the top we gazed upon the volcanic crater mouth where ‘Paradise Lake' now sits as a watering hole for elephants, buffalo, baboons and numerous other animals in the Marsabit area.

Unfortunately for our timing the elephants and buffalo had retreated to the lowland plains to sun themselves for the day, nonetheless we were able to see firsthand how the Kenyan Wildlife Service rangers operated on a day to day basis. Some based themselves in the village, while others operate from posts along the mountain; constantly vigilant for poachers. Just last week the guys here came upon a poached carcass a few kilometers from were we are now. From the damage done to the elephant it becomes abundantly clear why they need to operate in such a militant manor. The poachers here are heavily armed and highly dangerous. KWS rangers are permitted to shoot them on sight as the poachers have no scruples about attacking neither man nor animal, and they have shot at these men in the past. Luckily for us there were no untoward run ins with ne'er-do-wells on our patrol, just a beautiful ride up to the top with some top notch guys who were eager to teach us about the Marsabit park and show us a day in their lives.

  Ah... What a change!
Our first day in Northern Kenya and it's so peaceful. We don't have to duck and dove for rocks or put up perimeter fencing around our camp anymore. Plus you can actually stop and have a decent conversation with the locals as most of the speak English and are friendly and welcoming us into their country. Karibu (welcome) is shouted at us as we ride past.
           
The ride was a great 80km from the Moyale border town to Sololo, a little town in the middle of nowhere. There is a shop with a warm coke or two an a few camels, cows and baboons roaming the camp but that's all. However, the roads are horrible: corrugation, rocks and sand the whole way. For the road bike riders it's definitely not that much fun but for the mountain bikers it is just short of heaven. I just can't see myself on a road bike with no suspension on these horrible roads.

My real estate development business in “hunker down/hibernation” mode as well as extreme restlessness presented an opportunity to make a bold if rather foolhardy move on my part. I registered for the 2009 Tour d’Afrique just 6 weeks prior to departure. Sure I’ve talked about doing the tour since 2004 when I first heard about it but I always thought I’d spend a year preparing for it physically, learning about bike mechanics and in general getting it together.

 

So here I am at age 54, cycling across Africa, the novice of the group, the last one into camp each evening, watching everyone pass me in route to our destination. What makes my lack of preparedness tolerable though is that I’m cycling, albeit slowly, for the vulnerable children orphaned by AIDS in east Africa. Global Alliance for Africa (GAA), an NGO headquartered in Chicago forms partnerships with Africans in Kenya and Tanzania which innovatively and respectfully provide support for these often forgotten children. I’ve watched GAA grow over the last 6 years creating self sustaining programs through micro lending and other development initiatives which now help to support over 7,000 orphans. As a volunteer, I’ve organized and escorted fundraising groups to the summit of Mount Kilimanjaro five times and last March six of us completed “The Great Walk of Africa”, a 110 mile walking safari through Tsavo West and East National Park in Kenya. Collectively these tireless and adventurous philanthropist groups of volunteers have raised $280,000 for GAA.

 

This time I’ve traded my hiking boots for biking shoes with the goal of $10 per mile, $73,000 for the orphans. Crossing this great continent by bicycle has been an indescribable journey. The support from the organizers, the camaraderie of the cyclists as well as the wonder of crossing Africa and seeing its people has given me what I’ve needed as a novice to keep pushing on.  I have to say that the Tour d’Afrique is by far the greatest personal challenge I’ve ever faced.
- Ann Gallagher

Twelve men and one woman are still holding EFI status on this year’s Tour. EFI status is reserved for those riders who complete every stage of The Tour or ride Every F*cking Inch. It sounds like a simple task and most riders at the start of The Tour are keen to achieve EFI status. But here we are 1/3 of the way to Cape Town and more than 2/3rds of the riders have had to ride the trucks and lost their EFI status.  

Even some of the most experienced and strongest riders on The Tour have succumbed to illness, injury, mechanical failure or fatigue. To successfully achieve EFI status you must be vigilant about your health and cleanliness. Being a strong rider is important but having the discipline to pace yourself day after day so you don’t become too fatigued is equally important. Mental toughness is perhaps the most common characteristic of our EFI riders. Everyone who is still EFI on Tour has had to tough out some really grueling days. It has been inspiring to watch these men and women push their limits & the sense of accomplishment they feel must be a great reward.  

With the hardest days of The Tour just ahead of us in Northern Kenya we will probably lose a few more EFI’ers. I hope not, but the chances are high. I wish all our riders the best, it’s a tough Tour, EFI or not.  

Still EFI:

Allan Benn Malcolm Campbell

Tim Gane Taryn Laurie

Ivo Limpens Nick Marr

Bruce McPhail Marcel Oude Geerdink

Nick Padt Paul Porter

Graeme Scrivener Lloyd Strong

Craig Tingle  

As you may or may not know, we had a bit of a SNAFU arise a few days ago when our communications network went down. I spent many an hour sitting in a bikini chair, BGAN satellite dish at my feet, laptop firmly planted in my lap, satellite phone glued to the side of my head, and several thousand bugs flying in my nose, ears, eyes and mouth… attracted by the ephemeral glow of my equipment in the Ethiopian midnight nothingness. Those were not fun nights spent aching to get the system back on line, and I imagine that the techies on the other end of the sat phone weren’t too happy at my choice of language at a few junctures. Anyways, we’re back online and I can cancel my search for a cheap, early flight home from Nairobi since I still have a function on this crazy misadventure.

 

Anyways, a quick update. We have all successfully crossed from Ethiopia into Kenya. “Le Roi est mort. Vive le Roi!” Actually, the differences between countries at the crossing from Ethiopia into Kenya was almost as distinct as the crossing from Sudan into Ethiopia. The Kenyan customs officer actually smiled us as he handed us our new visa. I think it’s because he got to sit on a nice plush chair in a private office as opposed to the pieces of molded plastic designed in Bratislava for prisoner interrogations that the Ethiopians tend to favour. Also, instead of camping in a bona fide garbage dump/public latrine we are in a national park… pretty swanky. All in all the camp is pretty happy, most everyone dumped the last of their Birr in the hours before crossing on beers, injira and multilayered fruitjuice (if they were enterprising enough to suss it out). Those that didn’t were able to get ripped off quickly by the young men occupying no-mans land offering money exchange, certifying their credibility by holding 8 inch stacks of bills. I think that all banks should operate this way, next time I walk into a CIBC, HSBC or Bank of America I want my teller to actually be holding upwards of $3,000 in her hand as I tell her I would like to increase my credit limit and explore my RRSP options. It would be even better if she grabbed for my money as soon as I took it out of my pocket and had two of her colleagues stand behind me with calculators, even larger stacks of money and menacing looks upon their faces. That’s service you can count on. Actually, I’m quitting Td’A and starting a bank.

At the beginning of the tour it was explained to us that we separate the garbage into three buckets, organic that we bury, re-usable that we give to the locals and burnables that we burn daily on the basis that we either burn it or it ends up in a landfill.  

The re-usable bin made me curious as I could not believe that our empty bottles, packets and general waste that we dispose of daily would be of no use to anyone, how wrong I was. I have seen fights break out over the bin bag full off empty plastic bottles as we leave camp, this morning I watched a group of camera shy Ethiopian women in ethnic dress form a rugby scrum over what we left.  

During today’s ride I saw this taken to a new level, the local Ethiopians who have been doing an incredible job of keeping us supplied with drinks and helping out with problems clipped a Dik Dik just after they passed me on the road. A Dik Dik is a large domestic cat size antelope. The knock from the car didn’t kill the animal outright so they jumped out and slit its throat to let it die painlessly. He was then skillfully skinned at the roadside all the useable meat was butchered on the spot and the hide in perfect condition was kept. Had we not crossed into Kenya and left the boys behind today I would be chowing down on what looked like some incredibly tender meat tonight. Nothing goes to waste!

A few Tour stage memories from David Else, Lonely Planet relay team

A few days ago, I arrived home after two weeks cycling from Khartoum to Addis Ababa on Stage 2 of the Tour d'Afrique. There were still patches of snow in the fields around my house (I live in southern England) - a minor remnant of the motorway-blocking drifts that hit the country a week ago, and a world away from the heat and dust of Sudan and Ethiopia.
Sitting here at my desk with a fast broadband connection (rather than in a dusty internet café with download speeds only slightly faster than the donkeys in the street outside) it's a good opportunity to recall the last few days of the stage, and to reflect briefly on my two-wheeled journey through this wonderful part of Africa.

Tuesday 10 Feb (Day 25 of the tour)

After the rest day in Bahar Dar, on the banks of Lake Tana, today's ride was a long one: about 160km. The wind was mostly behind, as we pedalled south on good roads through rolling hills. The landscape was green, with grasslands clipped short by goats and cows, patches of eucalypt trees and fields of crops being harvested. Life is probably still pretty hard for the locals, but this fertile country is the total antithesis to the barren deserts we expect to see Ethiopia.

Wednesday 11 Feb (Day 26)
A shorter stint compared to the previous day - 118km - but no walk in the park, thanks to the larger hills to be crossed on today's route. We passed through the towns of Jiga and Dembecha, and then the small city of Debre Markos - all with good cafés to tempt thirsty cyclists. Our choice includes the omnipresent Coke, multi-coloured multi-layered fresh juices, or an espresso. Good coffee and good roads seem to be the two main legacies of Ethiopia's brief period of Italian colonial rule.

Thursday 12 Feb (day 27)

A shorter day again - just 90km - but today we reached one of the key landmarks of the entire trip: the Blue Nile Gorge, where the great river cuts a massive canyon through the Ethiopian landscape. Billed as the Alpe d'Huez of Africa (a reference to a notoriously steep mountain that often features in the Tour de France), for me the descent into the gorge, and then the climb out was the highlight of my two-week ride.
The morning was a limber up: 50km through rolling hills. Then came the 20km descent into the gorge; hairpin after hairpin, switchback after switchback, from an altitude of 2400m to less than 1000m. Some riders punctured on the descent, not because they picked up flints in their tyres, but because the constant braking mean red-hot rims and melting inner-tubes.
At the bottom of the gorge, we crossed the Nile on a new bridge, then started the ascent:  1500m of climbing in 20km. And just to make it interesting, this section was run as a time-trial. The rules were simple: record your start-time, record your finish-time, fastest rider to the top is the winner. Big respect to winner Allan, who covered the distance in 1 hour 19 minutes, an even bigger 'chapeau' to my Lonely Planet team-mate Quentin who clocked 1 hr 35 to get second place, riding the 15kg mountain bike he usually uses for commuting to work.
I just scraped under two hours, and in the bizarre kind of way that only other cyclists might appreciate, I thoroughly enjoyed every sweaty, pulse-thumping, muscle-aching kilometre - especially the top section where the bends were so tight, and some jokers had chalked encouraging messages on the road in true Tour de France style.
Day 28 and Day 29.

Two final glorious days of about 100km each took us into Addis Ababa and the end of the stage. Quentin and I met up with Jim and Carlo, the next two riders in the Lonely Planet relay team, and hand over the virtual baton.
Looking back, I enjoyed every single minute of the past two weeks - even those long hard into-the-headwind days in Sudan when the temperature was over 45 degrees and the air seemed to desiccate my skin - and even those long off-road climbs in Ethiopia where I discovered my max speed was 8km per hour, while local children can run at 9. No wonder this country turns out world-beating marathon athletes.

I managed to avoid the ‘bug' that swept through the camp, and stayed healthy the whole way (although did have my own little medical incident when I managed to fall off my bike in Sudan). I found the infamous stone-throwing kids were not too much of a problem, as long as I got in a pre-emptive smile, wave and shout of local greeting. So no bruises from child-propelled missiles, but my arm aches from all that waving, and I seem to have sunburn on my gums.

So, thanks to Quentin for good company and great laughs all along the way. Thanks to Lonely Planet's Tony Wheeler for making it all happen. Thanks to the Tour d'Afrique organisers for a smooth operation, and to all the other TDA riders for showing us the ropes in the first few days, patching me up when I fell off my bike, and making me slightly envious as they head on down the continent towards Cape Town...
David Else

We are currently experiencing some issues with our satellite data uploading technology. As you may have noticed, blogs and race results have not been updated for a few days. We are trying  to fix the problem and have more information for you soon. We are in daily satellite phone contact and all the riders are well and enjoying their day off in Arba Minch.

Just before reaching today’s camp in Salela a gravel road leads to a superb viewpoint over the Blue Nile Gorge. A couple of kilometers down this road there is a monastery. I decided to leave my bike here and walk down to the monastery, as it should be open to visitors.

 

The pleasant descent leads me through a typical Ethiopian village, we are already accustomed to by now. Greeted by pilgrims and locals and escorted by children asking for pens and money I find the monastery at the very end of the road; all fences locked and no sign where I can expect it to be open again. Seeing no ticket office, I speak to one of the pilgrims in front of the monastery. Nine o’clock is all he can say. That’s six hours from now and I should be in bed by then.  

To the left is a construction site and I walk in there. No one stops me and I discover what looks like the monk’s dormitory. Knocking on a few doors brings some life to the silent building. One door opens and a monk blesses me immediately with a wooden cross as we see so many around Ethiopia. The monk does not speak English and I don’t speak Ahmaric. I do my best to make clear that I came walking down the road to se the monastery and if it will be open soon to visit.

 A younger monk covered in a shining bright yellow blanked is called upon as he speaks some English, it becomes clear that I can visit the church after some formalities when the current mass will be finished. He proposes to walk to the nearby sacred cave and water during the waiting time. He calls and armed guard to guide me up the cobble stone path to the cave. It is locked with brightly painted metal doors but the key is found soon and the door opened. Inside is a variety of garbage bins and containers to collect water that drips through the ceiling of the cave. I’m invited to taste some and while I’m now well into adventure I accept this opportunity… holding a special prayer stick.  

When we reach back at the church the pilgrims/ congregation has just left and the monk in the yellow blanket welcomes me inside the church. Doors are locked and I’m getting an explanation on the history of the monastery at this site and how it is related to the other monasteries in Ethiopia. The first church Founded in 13^th century) was destroyed by the Muslims and the Second Church in 1928 (1936) by Italians killing most of the monks there. The present church was finished in 1961 (1969?) and contains fine modern glass stained windows as well as some old relics and the remains of the founder (St. Clement?)

 

I’m invited to take pictures and questions are answered. It was a good experience to get to know some differences and common details between western Christianity and the Ethiopian Coptic religion. During the one hour walk back to my bicycle I feel delighted by my own private pilgrimage

 

 - Edvard Sloots.

What can I say, the title says it all! People running up and down with shovels and white gold under their arms- which at this stage is the most valuable item to have.  It started 2 days ago in Addis Ababa, the potent bug that wipes you out for 24 hours- Extreme Diarrhea, fever, vomiting, stomach cramps and a headache as an add-on bonus.  

Trust me, it’s not fun having diarrhea in the bush!! Sometimes you make it, sometimes you don’t. Almost a third of the camp is down. Both the trucks are packed with sickos and our nurses are having their hands full- thanks to Alex and Erin for doing a great job looking after everybody.

 

The challenge of our physical discomfort is doubled by the fact that our condition could potentially kill the local children if they are unlucky enough to catch what we have. Additionally, the serious riders have to get up on their bikes every single day, with or without the bug, and cycle- you guys are a real inspiration to all. Riders who have retained their EFI status through this nightmare seriously rock- Keep it up!