28th January 2008 - Dongola, Sudan

Entering Sudan, we finally hit some off-road sections. Egyptian tarmac made my full suspension bike completely obsolete and I had doubts appear in my mind regarding my bike choice. Now, though, I am in my element, cruising through bumpy sections where others are struggling for control over their bike and floating over sand where cyclocross bikes with thinner tyres sink. Roads in Africa are being paved at a dizzying pace, leaving fewer stages off-road than ever before. Therefore, I decide to exploit my current advantage on the third day in Sudan and push beyond my so far maintained level of sustainable effort (due to the lack of recovery time, riding sustainable is a crucial aspect of the tour) and challenge the leading group of racers (they are GOOD!!).

ED’S FIRST STAGE WIN
The day begins with a typical chaotic morning, everybody frantically trying to stuff their belongings into their red box, eat breakfast and get the gear ready before sunrise. I am the last rider out of camp and shortly behind Jos, Bernd and Bent, our number 1, 2 and 4 respectively in the current rankings. I carefully select a brisk but yet reasonable pace, so that at lunch only a few riders remain between me and the finish line. Refilling my bottle and quickly grabbing filled pita breads to keep me nourished for the remaining 50km of heavy off-road, I realize 2 racers already left lunch…s**t!! I jump on my bike and start pedalling...way too fast. My legs are filling with lactic acid and I would blow up at this pace before finish. Soon after, Jos overtakes me. His rigid cyclocross take a beating on the bumpy stuff, but he is an incredibly strong rider. Pushing harder would be foolish and all there is for me to do is focus on selecting the best possible path.

However, the desert is full of surprises. The terrain is a mixture of large rocks and bumps (my full suspension loves these), a lot of washboard (waves of little bumps with little distance in-between; you do NOT want to ride on these…painful!) and even more sand (depending on depth either difficult or impossible to ride). These features are changing constantly and it is very difficult to anticipate the rideability of the path lying ahead. Add to this the countless number of different paths scattering in multiple directions and the often better choice of leaving the paths altogether, racing becomes a fair bit of chance. So it is by chance that I get stuck in a patch of deep sand. Looking at my far right, I see Jos and Bernd equally stuck in deep sand. All three desperately try to reach solid ground, get on the bike, fall over in the deep sand, get up, walk 10m and try all over. I get riding first, which puts me back in the race. It is chance again that, after a seemingly good path has turned awry and led me far off course into the desert and out of sight of the Nile, Jos follows my tracks taking him equally off course. By this time Bernd is struggling with knee problems and the winner of the day seems to be Jos or me. A final sprint to the finish line and comparison of our times reveals: I have earned my first stage win!

THE PEOPLE WE ENCOUNTER
Experiencing the people on the way is probably one of the most significant aspects of the Tour d’Afrique, and so it is important to be aware of how we are perceived by locals. Consider this: We cycle through some of the poorest areas on earth. A child standing on the side of the road witnesses a colourful spandex clad rider on a bike with an obscene price tag. The kid runs along and shouts in excitement “stop, stop…please stop”. The strange rider passes at high speed with maybe a nod or wave as sign of recognition…nothing more. Once 59 riders have passed in this fashion, nobody granting the child as much as 1 minute of their time, the child’s frustration takes shape in a rock hitting the unfortunate 60th rider.

Most locals greet us heart-warmingly. Unlike in Egypt, asking for money seems to be taboo in Sudan. Instead, the occasional child asks for a pen or a short ride on our bikes. The Sudanese are some of the friendliest people I have met and I try to do my best to acknowledge their gestures of hospitality. However, cycling through a single village I have a farmer offering me sugar cane, an old man inviting me into a mosque and a little boy holding a piece of cheese out to me. We pass hundreds of people each stage. Even on a non-race day, it is impossible to stop for every one asking us to. This is a predicament that every rider will have to deal with, even if the outcome is sometimes painful.