13th February 2008 - Baher Dahr, Ethiopia

Researching the Tour d’Afrique, one of the most striking features and challenges seems to be the physical exertion under extreme temperatures in Sudan. We had been warned of a rapid temperature increase from our port of entry in Wadi Halfa onwards and were mentally preparing ourselves. My bike was modified to carry 4 bottles (2.8 litres) on top of a 3 litre hydration backpack. Instead, we found strong winds, cold nights/mornings and somewhat warm afternoons. My windbreaker jacket became an essential piece of clothing and I placed my hydration pack and some bottles into my permanent bag (this is loaded on top of the support trucks and can be accessed only on rest days) for their lack of need. So really, conditions were modest and the daily grind on the bike remained just that…cranking away in our acquired routine. That is until Khartoum. Seemingly overnight temperatures jumped up by almost 20oC. At noon, readings went up into the 40s and my required water intake leapt up similarly. Hydration before, while and after stages became an absolutely crucial part of recovering and ensuring a steady performance. John, who used to serve in the Royal Air Force, recalls some key figures from his survival training: given our environment and exercising levels, the body looses 3l of water an hour, while being able to take up no more than 2l orally…whether the exact figures are correct or not, the moral is that dehydration is a serious threat and extreme care must be taken. However, my bottles and hydration pack were in my permanent bag, leaving me with no more than 3 bottles on my bike. During the last days in Sudan, water indeed became a precious resource and I had to stop in most villages we passed through, scrambling for the liquid gold. The heat had some other effects as well. Apart from the road kill starting to smell pretty bad, countless bush fires were scattered across the landscape. On our first night on Ethiopian soil, these were clearly visible in the far away mountains…going to sleep in my tent and seeing through my mosquito net the orange glow under the sparkle of the stars was a bizarre experience.


DO NOT USE GLUELESS PATCHES or HOW ETHIOPIA HATES ED
Africa is unpredictable. The stages on the Tour can be classified according to their profile: length, elevation, wind and surface. These may grant statements along the line of “tomorrow is a tough and challenging day”, “many people will struggle on this stage” or inversely “that stage is simple and straightforward”. However, most of us have long stopped paying attention to this descriptive commentary. Sure, the daily grind is considerable and I am suffering from a severe lack of recovery time. But the real challenge is so much more personal. It is illness, injury or mechanical failure that is most likely to bring a rider to his knees and prevent him from completing a stage. Or in my case the ridiculous bureaucratic workings of Ethiopian immigration officials.

Entering Ethiopia should have been straightforward. Entry was the crossing of a little bridge and indeed the immigration authority placed in a hut on the side of the road could have easily been missed if not pointed out by the tour organisation. I dropped of my passport, trying to kill the waiting time by sampling the first beer after three weeks Sudan and taking advantage of the local brothel’s showering facilities. Meanwhile, the smiling faces at immigration were slowly but surely working their way through the pile of passports and randomly flicking through a huge book containing thousands of hand written names (the IT wave has not yet advanced to Ethiopian border control). I am still completely puzzled about what exactly they were doing or trying to do. Anyway, after continuously checking on the status of my passport and repeatedly being assured of everything being in order, I make a final visit in the evening after sunset. Seeing my passport as the last remaining one on the desk was certainly not a good sign. I was informed, that my entry into Ethiopia was impossible until further notice from Addis Ababa (the capital) and that I would have to return to Sudan until the next day. Talking, negotiating and pleading were all fruitless, yet I was permitted to sleep in our camp for the night. It took up to noon the next day for my passport to get that all-important entry stamp, by which time the other riders already had up to 5h head start. Making this very difficult stage before nightfall was with certainty going to be a tough task.

(Note: out of almost 80 people, my entry was the only one to be delayed. The reason, it turns out, was my name: Edward Din. On Ethiopia’s list of wanted individuals was a person whose first name was also Edward…nothing more but my sharing a common Anglo-Saxon first name with a wanted individual had delayed my entry by almost an entire day. Even more ridiculous was what I witnessed in the morning while waiting. A man with a clearly Sudanese appearance and distinct Sudanese accent attempted entry with an Ethiopian passport. The passport’s date of issue was 4 months in the future and it was lacking an Ethiopian exit stamp. Him they permitted entry, me with my FIRST NAME they did not…ridiculous).

I could have dealt with this portion of bad luck and still mastered the 100km of heavy off-road, steep climbs and boiling heat…if it wasn’t for glueless patches’ intolerance of high temperatures. While waiting for my entry permit, my already patched tube started leaking air. I replaced the faulty patch, only for it to leak again. A slow leak, requiring me to pump up the tyre every 10-15 min. I can deal with that. After 30 km a puncture in the rear tube followed, which I promptly patched up. The patch started leaking and was replaced. Another flat followed and I had no more patches or tubes left. In my desperation I turned to some construction workers, who are attempting to pave stretches of the road in the coming couple of years. These wonderful guys offered to drive me to their next camp, repair my tube with Tip Top used for their 4WD vehicles and drop me off again. At their camp a new puncture was identified, repaired and I was driven back to the initial place. After a couple of hundred metres, the patches leaked air again. In a last attempt I located a barber in a remote Ethiopian mountain village, who also happened to repair bike tubes with glue and patches of cut rubber. Half the village assembled around me and my bike and together we fixed all leaks in the tyres. However, luck was not to be mine that day. 40km before the finish line and 90 min before sunset my beaten-up tube finally gave up and the Tour’s van, searching the route for me, picked me up. I could have dealt with the bureaucratic tinkering. I could have borrowed a tube/patch of another rider behind me if I would have started in the morning. But both together on the same day proved too much and left me 40 km short of completing my EFI (i.e. finishing every single stage).

The first day in Ethiopia surely contained enough bad luck for the time being. That was my string of thought anyway.

Our everyday items are packed in a 70l box called the RED BOX, which is loaded onto the support trucks before departure every morning, to be offloaded again at next camp. To quote Tour d’Afrique instructions: “Your life must fit in this box. All of your daily necessities including … must fit in this box”. You get the message. Until today I am unsure of the exact events that happened on my 2nd day in Ethiopia. It appears that during transit on the bad roads my red box fell out of its slot, the door opened and half my belongings were scattered across a stretch of Ethiopian gravel. All my camping gear, all my toiletries and a large part of my clothing was lost (fortunately, a kid picked up my Petzl headlamp and tried to sell it to Mike, a Canadian rider…one item retrieved, many lost).

This is Africa, full of the unexpected. All there is we can do is to take things with a healthy portion of humour and deal with the situation.

My fellow riders were incredibly helpful in assisting me with gear and words of support in those days. Words cannot express my gratitude for these many gestures. THANKS GUYS!!!!!!