“Because I am Loving Every Horrible, Wonderful Minute of This…” Or “7 Days of Misery, A Little For Everyone…”

We have quickly realized that since we left Khartoum our “real” trip has begun. No more Egyptian paved roads or the new roads that the Chinese built for Sudan last year…TIA- This is Africa..These 7 days were worrisome when we saw the distances on the white board as we left Khartoum, and now as we approach the last day of the stretch, the reality has set in and we are getting a true test of what people are made of, and, if in the darkest hour they can dig down somewhere deep inside and find the resolve to carry on. This week has seen many riders at their weakest point, especially through Dinder National Park. Someone said it was the biggest EFI Massacre in TDA history. We are down to only 12 or so riders that have EFI status and a lot of riders with injuries, crashes and illness. Approximately 20 people have chosen to go ahead to Gondor, Ethiopia and not ride these two days to try and recover, from the things that ail them, whether it be physical ailment or a dampened spirit. Despite tomorrow’s “Mando day” which is a race day that cannot count as a grace day in the end due to the difficulty…2500meters of climbing up hill, what Ethiopia is famous for.

This stretch of riding is unique in that it has had something that has tested each rider to the limits of their riding. Endurance, off road, traffic, and hills, something in that mix definitely challenged every rider and we won’t even talk about Dinder in this blog, that will be a separate blog all together.

Leaving Khartoum we faced two very long riding days on tough pavement, 161km and then 163km. The traffic along this stretch was horrendous and everyone rode along anxiously surveying the shoulder to select easy and safe exit points for emergency evacuations. I don’t think there was a rider that at some point didn’t have to exit the highway urgently to avoid a head on collision with an oncoming bus or double wide trailer. Scary, especially since the shoulder was not always the greatest option. Two riders had serious crashes which caused them to have to go to the hospital with several days off from riding and head injuries. Luckily, they are both okay. Over the course of these two days I get two flat tires and a migraine which led me to lay in the ditch for 15 minutes and then ride with limited vision for a long time, I should have known this was only the beginning of a long stretch of challenges.

The next day brought our first day of “dirt roads”… 132km total, 91km on the dirt. This was the first day of the extremely difficult (mentally and physically) days for most riders on this section. The scorched, washboard terrain with loose sections rattled riders arms and bodies to a point that ended with 16+ riders opting for the lunch truck instead of carrying on. There were many places throughout the day that the road split and the “correct route” was marked with flagging tape. Unfortunately the villagers in this area, having never had the Tour D’Afrique come through before thought the flagging tape was very cool and they took the tape. This led to 6 riders getting completely lost and the support vehicles searching for these individuals even into the dark of night. Those of us that are riding rigid frame bikes and opted for No Shocks, quickly learned the value of these. 91km on serious washboard with your forearms as the only shocks, is not promising for the next day on the same terrain. The only thing that I could describe the pain as (even before the end of the day) was that my forearms felt like they were bleeding on the inside. At one point I took my first serious rock hit, a huge fist sized rock lobbed into my back caused me to shout out in pain and almost lose my balance on my bike, the first of many bruises from being hit with rocks over the next few days and I can only imagine the whole trip. Noone is quite sure why the urge to throw rocks at riders as we pass through has become the norm, but it is and it is a difficult situation to deal with, riders have thrown rocks back, shouted, found adults, everything to no avail. Our best bet is to keep your eyes sharp and hope for luck.. By the time I reached the 132km camp after 8.5 arduous hours, my forearms were very swollen and too sore to touch. The only solution to this situation for me was to stock up on ibuprofen to even get on the bike the next day. This long day seemed difficult, however we went to bed really unaware of what awaited us the next day….