Missing Entries

After visiting the official blog for the tour, I see that many entries from previous years have been removed, mine included. Therefore I am posting all of my post-Ethiopia blog entries. The most recent are listed first.
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Cycling along Namibia’s Fish River Canyon is a silent treat. The scent of a cool morning lingers in the air while the sun slowly warms my back. As I ride along, I notice the canyon inhales sound as much its beauty draws attention. Patches of desert grass shiver from ghostly winds, the rustling gasped by the canyon. The somber colors of these sparse shrubs contrast the radiant purples, reds and blues of the canyon walls. The ride is tranquil and is the ideal time for reflection.
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It was difficult to ride away from Namibia’s serenity, but entering South Africa was especially exciting as it the beginning to the end. Many were expecting a lush landscape similar to Zambia, but northern South Africa feels as though we are cycling along the contours of a crocodile’s back. The rippling and swelling hills are like scales—cracked, dry and in a predictable pattern. Recent rains have spurred the growth of desert flora and add a dark green hue to the hills.

Four days lie between us and achieving a goal we have focused on for the past four months—cycling across Africa.
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The Zambezi Zone

Zambia’s undulating landscape and vast plains have provided some of the most spectacular riding on the tour. Many riders have commented that Zambian scenery is how they pictured the entire ride across Africa—towering elephant grass, undulating hills and roadside wildlife. Zambia is putting into perspective our cycling odyssey, as we just now greet the landscape we imagined cycling through.

The previous three months come to mind, our unforeseeable experiences, and how our impressions of Africa fluctuate with its capricious character. We’ve sweated in the dusty, dry deserts of Egypt and Sudan. We’ve labored across the mountains of Ethiopia’s highlands and pedaled beneath Tanzania’s vast skies and along its lush fauna. We’ve battled Malawi’s mosquitoes and sipped its famed tipple on the shores of Lake Malawi. In Zambia, everyday seems like a safari and upon entering Botswana, we are sure to have close encounters with its scores of elephants. Namibia and South Africa have yet to unveil their treasures and we can’t wait to uncover them.
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Tired legs found rest in Windhoek, Namibia’s capital city. Since our two days there, we’ve tackled two lengthy riding days that begin the finishing stretch to Cape Town. Leaving Windhoek, a capital cuddled by mountains, the scenery seemed too perfect, as though it should reside in Disney’s Epcot Center. It is as if the city, mountains included, were picked from Germany and dropped in the middle of Namibia’s plains. The fact we are 310 kilometers out of Windhoek and haven’t seen a hill since, only gives credence to this theory.

Namibia’s plains are just as vast and featureless as in Botswana. The significant change is the roadside grass. The ear high elephant grass has been replaced by a feathery knee high grass. Strong gusts make the grass shimmer in shades of gold in much the same way a retriever’s coat shines when he twists to dry. Numbers of roadside game and wildlife are diminishing and Shop Rite and Spar, BP and Total are taking their place.

The slender road to South Africa brings us frighteningly close to speeding traffic. The hum in the distance brightens into a roar as it barrels past. We cringe and clutch handlebars, holding a straight line until taillights are safely ahead. The drivers are no less reckless than in countries past, but the unbent road and lack of policemen beckons speed from even the most conservative of drivers.

Tonight we sleep in the abandoned Gibeon train yard. Ten riding and one rest day separates us from Cape Town.
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It is not often that one can assimilate to a country by merely seeing their flag; however, Botswana’s flag of light blue and black band running across the center perfectly represents our Botswanan riding experience. The black stripe being the thin ribbon of tarmac we occupy every day, and the predominance of blue represents every day’s vast sky overhead. We are more than three quarters along the bisecting black line and nearly to the final section of the tour, the Diamond Coast.

Chilly nights are reminding us we are no longer in the northern hemisphere’s spring, but experiencing the onset of fall. Another more obvious reminder is the species of animals we are encountering along the road—sable, zebra, giraffe, and elephants, of which we have seen many. Winds are shifting in our favor, easing the mental trauma of cycling consecutive centuries. Lastly, towns are becoming increasingly Western, stocking goods we’ve craved since leaving the pyramids.

With only three more bush camps and an equal number of rest days away between us and Cape Town, we are realizing this odyssey is drawing to a close. Our kilometers remain big, our accommodations improve as we progress southward, and we are beginning to think about the first thing we will do when back home.

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Five minutes on a ferry and we are over the Zambezi and in Botswana—TDA 2008’s seventh country.

Botswana’s Elephant Highway Section was kicked off with a 40k time trial. Jos Kaal places first for the men with a time of 0:58.22 and Chris Willie takes second with a 1:00.06 finish. Natalia, an expedition rider turned racer, finishes first for the ladies with a time of 1:09.18 and Deb Corbeil takes second place with a 1:13.05 finish.

As each day passes, our cycling tour across Africa feels as though it is becoming a cycling safari. Just before leaving Zambia, one rider spotted a giraffe and upon cycling the few kilometers between the Botswana border and tonight’s camp, a few others watched as an ottoman sized warthog foraged along the roadside. As I type, a group of ringed mongooses are scurrying along tents, every so often pausing to poke their pointed heads above the grass. The electrified fence encircling the camp is a promising sign that even bigger animals await our discovery.

After our refreshing rest days in Livingston, we’re thrilled to be in a new country and cannot wait to spot more of Botswana’s wildlife.

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Long reeds of elephant grass shoot from the either side of the two lane highway connecting Lilongwe with Lusaka. The towering grass hangs lazily above the road, bobbing and swaying with the wind. The grass, when coupled with the many hills and blind turns makes for a thrilling ride through southern Africa’s hinterland.

Zambia’s landscape is a stark change from our previous three months of cycling. Many riders say riding across Zambia is how they pictured the entire ride across Africa. The hills, blanketed in green, are numerous and occasionally expose the odd rock formation. The tarmac is smooth and the traffic sparse. The rural populations are notably smaller, as most Zambians (40%) live in cities. In fact, one tenth of the population lives in Lusaka, where we find ourselves today.

With the improving landscape comes increasing distances. Our longest day thus far was several days ago, clocking in at 197km. From Lusaka to Victoria Falls will be our longest consecutive days averaging to three 165km days. We are pedaling furiously, taking in the landscape and mentally preparing for our Cape Town arrival only a bit over a month away.

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Upon crossing the Malawian border, the afternoon sun showers of Tanzania have changed to late evening and morning showers, making packing up in the morning a wet affair. Most agree it is better to begin drenched and dry throughout the day rather than the other way around. With the rains come cooling zephyrs. When the sun hides behind the patchy clouds, the air turns brisk and gives us respite from the muggy humidity.

Though Malawi occupies very little space on Africa’s face, we have experienced a very diverse landscape compared to other countries. For example, our past rest day found us on the sandy shores of Lake Malawi and during the last few days, we’ve spent riding atop a mountain range. We’ve seen farmers sewing rice in the lowlands and heard chainsaws growling against timber in the mountains.

Tomorrow we enter Lilongwe, capital of Malawi, and terminus of the Malawi Gin section. We bid farewell to Jurie and Herman and welcome five sectional riders. Only three more days until our next country.
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Since our strenuous seven day stretch, road conditions have vastly improved and the weather has held off—until yesterday. Last night’s camp was easily the wettest on tour. During dinner, everyone huddled beneath a tarpaulin stretched from the truck. As we ate, we watched a river of rain flow along our feet and into several unlucky tents. Had they not been staked down, they would have certainly floated away.

As patches of sunlight fall on camp, many emerge from tents to hang clothing. We await the approaching storm clouds and ready ourselves to retrieve our clothes at the first raindrop. Everyday the rainy season cycle repeats itself—pouring rain, searing sunlight, puddles evaporating into clouds, a stroke of thunder and another dousing of rain.

Subtracting Kenya’s kilometers, today’s lunch marks the tour’s halfway point of 5,200km. Celebrations are planned for our next rest day, when TDA 2008 enters its fifth country—Malawi.
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Below the equator, life on the TDA has changed. In the southern half of Africa, not only does the water spin the other direction—it is everywhere. We’ve happened upon the rainy season, a time when plants are a brilliant green and flowers are abundant. The periodic sun showers bring thick raindrops that puddle into milky pools along our route.

Leaving Arusha two days ago, we were fooled into thinking that Tanzania would be a piece of cake. Six kilometers into yesterday’s ride, the tarmac ended and Tanzania showed its true face. Rough russet roads and afternoon sun showers are challenges unlike those of Sudan or Ethiopia.

Cycling in Tanzania is a full body workout. Rutted and rocky roads send handle bars in all directions. From the hips up, all strength is spent wrestling the front wheel forward. Throw in some steep climbs, snaking descents and sporadic ditches and you’ve got the average cycling day in Tanzania.

Tomorrow we enter Tanzania’s capital, Dodoma, and then continue onwards to Iringa.

Escape from Beijing

It's that time again... After working during the Olympics I have enough jingle to hit the road, and I mean hit it! The overland route is Beijing to Beijing overland via Laos, Thailand, Burma, India, Bangladesh and Nepal.

This will be a separate blog so please update your RSS feeds with the following address

http://escapefrombeijing.blogspot.com/

See you there!

Dune Boarding

A trudge reminiscent of Lawrence of Arabia, brings you to the top of an 80 meter sand dune. From here our guide explains proper form, how unrelated dune boarding is to any other board sport and then teaches us how to the wax the boards. "Don't lean forward or you will bury the lip," he warns. During my first run I find out why burying the lip is bad. As burying the lip buries your lips and the rest of your face into the sand.

After three more runs, he encourages us to try the face first boarding. "Elbows out and pull the front up," he explains "If you start spinning around, drag your feet to correct your direction." A light push sends me speeding down the hill. A waxed piece of particle board separates me from the sand though I feel I am soaring just above the sand. A smaller dune acts as a crash pad, stopping me in my tracks. The guide below shows me the speed gun--65km/h.

We return to our sand boards and try a few more runs. I master the right turn, but have trouble turning left. We take another run on the face first boards from a higher point on the dune. "The record for this run is 82km/hour. I wax my board extra well and I begin my run. They also mentioned that I would get some air on this run, and before I know it, I am in the sky and landing hard on my chest, but I am still clinging on. When I reach the bottom they show me the speed gun, 75km/h. My speed placed me second, the winning speed for the day just one kilometer faster.

We take our last trudge to the top of the dune and the guide asks us which of us are ready to attack the jump. "Jump? Jesus, I just learned how to turn," I think. "Chris, how about you show everyone how it is done?" the guide says. Before I can reply he is tightening my bindings and giving me pointers. "Ok, don't lean forward or you will bury the lip," he says. I already know this and imagine the landing like a sprung mousetrap, my momentum the spring, the board my fulcrum and my face slapping the sand.

"Keep your body centered, don't lean," he continues. Before I ask how to land, he lines me up for the jump and give me a push. I've heard people say that things go in slow motion during a traumatic experience, though this wasn't the case for me, as all I remember is hitting the jump and hearing the thud of my board hitting sand. I stick the landing for a half second and then eat sand--the fall worthy of a sport blooper video.

Time off in Swakopmund, Namibia

I'm on day four of my four day break from the tour. My time off began when crossing the Botswana/Namibia border. Four of us were able to convince a truck driver to bring us four hours to Windhoek--the country's capital. Our bags were stashed with the cargo of 'nappies' or, as we would say, diapers and we set off into Namibia's stark landscape.

This was my first time in an 18-wheeler and I now understand why they own the road. Lumbering nearly 3 meters above the road, the cab's suspension sways with each bump and correction of the wheel. It is like rocking cradle. We sat on the cab's lower bunk and awkwardly slouched below the upper bunk or leaned forward until our haunched went numb. Alternating between comfortable positions took half the ride, the other half was spent decifering the Afrikans braised English spoken by the trucker.

German architecture signaled our arrival in Windhoek. With sleepy legs, we crept from our perch and walked the streets to find a cab to a Backpackers. An evening of beers and great conversations finished my first day of vacation.

My reason for choosing Windhoek as my vacation time, was because of a Chinese embassy. I ask reception where I can find the Embassy. She replies, "I'm not sure where it is, but if you meet these people you can probably find it." She hands me a slip of paper: PROTEST AGAINST CHINA ARMS SHIPMENT TO ZIMBABWE. Perfect.

My visa needs to be arranged before I return to China, so I rise early to beat the protest. Entering the office, the visa officer had other plans. He watched as I filled out my paperwork and then asked for my work permit. "I work all over Africa and have no work visa for any country," I explain.

With most things in Africa, things change and change quickly. He pointed to a pinup printout dated 18 April 2008:

VISAS FOR ENTRY TO CHINA GRANTED ONLY TO NAMBIANS RESIDENTS OR FORGINERS WORKING IN NAMBIA

Thus a week ago, I could have everything straighted for my return to China. After more arguing, I accept defeat and leave the Embassy.

An Angel's Gaze

Things have been difficult the past month on TDA.  It is the same day in day our grind and it is finally taking its toll on the staff.  I suppose you could say I am burnt out.  Physically I am more lean and fit, but my body is wearing down at the same time.  Right now I am sick with Bronchitis and I rarely get sick.  Nearly every experience at the beginning of the trip inspired me to write an update and bring you along for the ride.  My little notebook has not been written in since Ethiopia though I carry it with me nearly every day. 

 

Maybe it was the break in Arusha that sent me on my downward writing spiral.  Everything I have written as of late, has been work related, and it is getting more and more difficult to write as the trip wears on.  Call it writers block or whatever you would like, but I will do my best to get in a few more updates before this trip is over.

 

Visiting Victoria Falls was an enthralling and inspiring experience that would be a shame to no write about.  When Dr. Livingstone, the first European to cast their gaze upon Victoria falls, inquired about the falls to a local chief, the chief asked Dr. Livingstone if he had ‘Smoke that Thunders’ in his homeland.  In the doctor’s journal he wrote of the falls that they were more spectacular than anything found in England and that angels in flight must have cast their eyes upon the falls.

 

The falls are truly magnificent.  I’ve seen the highest waterfall in the world (Angel Falls, Venezuela) and the waterfall that dumps the most amount of water (Niagara falls).  However both pale in comparison to the 1.7km stretch of falls separating Zimbabwe and Zambia.

 

A walkway allows visitors to walk along the falls, giving an impressive view.  Not only is it a great view, but you get absolutely soaked walking through the park.  From a narrow bridge, water shoots vertically from the pits of the falls.  The bottom is impossible to see because of the haze of water vapor flailing in every direction.  Along with dozens of rainbows, Victoria Falls wayward water vapor creates a microclimate hosting tropical vegetation.  That evening, we took a two hour cruise along the upper reaches of the Zambezi River, and in the distance we could spot the falls from the plums of water vapor rising high above.

 

Walking along Victoria Falls reminds me why I am here. 

 

Arusha

We have left the dire situation of commincations that is Ethiopia Telecom and have flown into Arusha. All my communication gear is on a truck, barreling through Kenya and I am planning to climb Kilimanjaro in the next day or so. Thus, there will not be any updates for about another week. Internet should be better from here on out, so expect another surge of updates and writing shortly.

All the best,
CB

Blue Nile Gorge

Peering over the edge, a river as thin as floss, divides the gorge.  I have difficulty imagining the razor thin Blue Nile cutting such a swath.  The gorge looks prehistoric, as though a swooping pterodactyl would not be unusual.   Seeing the tin roofs far below, glittering like glass shards, I’m brought back to the 21^st century.

 

The river’s gumption is unbelievable.  If you were to have told the river it must carve a plain into a 1700m abyss, it would have probably given you the finger.  There is no way, I think to myself, that a thin strip of water could create such a dramatic scene.

 

We slowly descend 1700m and travel 22km to the bottom of the gorge.  Gravel grinds beneath our tires, adding to the lunar dust coating everything near the road.  My hands sweat and leave dirty fingerprints on my book pages as the temperature rises with the falling altitude.  Burning brakes add a rubber fragrance to the decent.

 

…To be continued