Highs and lows

Ethiopia is proving to be quite a surprise package for cycling, just so long as you’re not one to shy away from the odd hill climb. Each day we find ourselves riding through some spectacular landscapes which could easily be mistaken for the Swiss Alps or Grand Canyon. Most notably, the magnificent 40km stretch through Abay Gorge deserves individual praise and falls easily into the top five days of our entire trip (well, the descent certainly does, the severe three-hour climb out left us wondering whether it was indeed worth it). Interestingly, this area has also provided some of the oldest ever fossilised human remains; apparently some folks were knocking around here about 3 million years ago, so the natural beauty of this place is not exactly breaking news.

Abay Gorge, photo taken after and before a 20km descent/climb.

A slow climb out of the gorge.

Our second noteworthy observation of this county is the quite massive and conspicuous population – if ever a market for promoting the benefits of birth control existed, then Ethiopia is most definitely it. The number of people we see every day is staggering, and the proportion under the age of ten has to be seen to be believed. We were fortunate enough to share an evening meal with a chap named Sisay, who – when not being a charming and hospitable Ethiopian – spends his time running clinics in rural villages to educate on this very issue, and he enlightened us further on the scale of the problem they are facing.

The peloton regroups.

Resupplying , with company.

For now though, the long periods of solitude to which we have become accustomed are a distant memory, as we find it difficult to recall a continuous stretch of five kilometres since entering Ethiopia without passing an unnamed village or encountering at least a group of people. Unfortunately, a few of the local kids find throwing stones at passing cyclists to be a jolly good jape, and while this is a bit of an annoyance, it’s a manageable one.

This country has perhaps provided the most eventful riding days of our trip so far, though certainly not the easiest. However – and quite crucially – the unexpected pleasure of Ethiopian coffee has so far got us through intact.

Late finish.

In search of a lunch stop.

We have also enjoyed a full compliment of weather in Ethiopia.

Ethiopia, 2007

After passing through what can best be described as a less-than-watertight border crossing, we left the smiling Sudanese behind and departed a country we’ll remember fondly, though with a cuisine we’ll be happy to forget. The contrast once into Ethiopia was immediate; as the strict Muslim way of life was replaced by a conspicuously more liberal vibe, separated only by a poorly constructed wooden gate.

Border crossing Ebola screening: all clear.

Viewed from above, Ethiopia would appear as a series of fairly significant mountain ranges encircled by an international border. That is to say, this is a very hilly country. As a result, we have settled back into our lowest possible gear, to let the heart rate soar, the mind wonder, and once again get used to covering no more than 10km in an hour.

We carry these guys in our panniers and deploy them when necessary.

Our ride through northern Ethiopia has certainly been entertaining, as every village has greeted us with enthusiastic and very vocal crowds that wouldn’t look particularly out of place on a stage of the Tour de France. It has however been one of the poorest and most confronting sections of our ride so far, and it is hard to imagine that a great deal has changed in these communities in the last 150 years.

Avid followers of this blog may remember the difficulties in establishing the correct time when we arrived in western China to begin this journey. However, it would appear that the Ethiopians well and truly take the biscuit for confusing what should be a fairly non-negotiable concept. In yet another obscure interpretation of the infeasible beginnings of organised religion, the Ethiopians have decided their calendar should begin seven years later than the rest of the world (making it only 2007 here), given themselves 13 months, celebrate Christmas 13 days later, and decided that the sun rises and sets at 12 o’clock (though this does in fact seem to make sense). Unfortunately, on account of alcohol being illegal in Sudan, the conversation in which we learnt about all this coincided with our first beer in a month, which only added to our loose understanding of the subject. Still, for a while now we have taken to operating on our own time, based on how tired, hungry, or energetic we are feeling at any given moment, and so all this has thankfully proved to be fairly circumstantial.

The place where time was re-understood

Up hill, we are usually comprehensively beaten.

Part of a 2,000m climb.

The Khartoum gauntlet

It is hard to imagine that anything could adequately prepare you for a bicycle approach into the city of Khartoum – as an experience, it fell exactly between exhilarating and traumatic. We found ourselves racing to beat the setting sun as we approached the outskirts of the chaos, which ultimately turned out to be a race in which we were comprehensively beaten. Negotiating the traffic, potholes, herds of cattle and hordes of people without the aid of a single road sign was not the ideal way to close off a 130km day. As night fell, a chirpy tuktuk driver pulled alongside to have a good chuckle at our situation, before advising us to be ‘very careful’; which, without wanting to seem ungrateful for the inside information, did seem to be pointing out the glaringly obvious.

After overcoming the above, the city itself provided a much-needed and relatively comfortable rest stop. In some positive news, we secured our Ethiopian visa in record time, although this has been offset by the sad news that our i-pod has broken. It’s been a roller-coaster week.

Downtown Khartoum

No bicycle required

As Sudan is entering winter at the moment, the temperature has plummeted to a frosty 39 degrees centigrade, which – if nothing else – has settled the question of whether this exercise would provide any level of enjoyment during the height of summer. As we made our way across some desolate terrain, and despite being reminded by the locals that these were indeed the cooler months, it certainly felt as though we were toughing it out in Africa. That is, until we met Masahito Yoshida.

We had met this remarkable Japanese round-the-world walker earlier in the week, and he had since leapfrogged us while we took a detour to Karima; home to the slightly underwhelming Sudan pyramids, given our recent trip to Giza.

Sudan’s pyramid efforts.

Masahito has spent the last 5 years walking around the planet (from Shanghai to Portugal, across the States, through Australia, then back to Shanghai), and now plans to tread a slow path to Cape Town. As we struggled through the heat and wind of the Sudanese desert, we soon stopped feeling too sorry for ourselves after contemplating this journey without a bike or a companion. The resilience and dedication required for what Masahito has achieved is astonishing. Bravo Masahito and good luck.

55km into his 60km day.

Some further info here:

http://alkinist.blog111.fc2.com

http://www.bbc.com/news/blogs-news-from-elsewhere-29108771

Northern Sudan

Our preparations for entry into Sudan were neither straightforward nor particularly cheap, and so we were relieved to have finally made it over the land border from Egypt. Once safely in however, more admin followed with the mandatory foreigner registration process at the local police station. There was some confusion during this final phase, between the word ‘tourist’ and the word ‘terrorist’, which is a distinction we were eager to clarify. With some rather crude charade skills we managed to iron out the language problems, assuring the police Captain that we represented the former, and wished to stay very much clear of the latter.

Pleased to have made the first kilometre of Sudan.

The desert roads of Sudan have turned the heat on us once again, and as we pedal through a region which would appear to experience rainfall once every Haley’s comet, our bikes are regularly creaking under the additional weight of carrying the necessary water supplies. Of more noteworthy mention however, are the towns and villages en route, which have provided not only great hospitality but also much entertainment.

Hot, dry and isolated riding.

Meal times are interesting, as we make our way into some smoke-filled cooking area/shack where something will be bubbling away in a quite outrageously large pan. Once we have established that it is ‘food’ bubbling away, we request ‘two foods’ and then take the least broken chair we can find to enjoy whatever is bought over to us.

Our method of transport is certainly turning heads, and in fact sometimes it would be hard to imagine a much greater reaction had we arrived into town in a space shuttle. In a memorable moment entering the village of Abri, we were met at a crossroads by a jubilant crowd of school children celebrating their latest football victory; both parties equally confused by the other, before each going our separate ways (though we still remain unsure as to who they had beaten to warrant such a celebration, given that no other settlement existed for around 100km).

Every stop prompts a bit of a crowd.

The successful – and noisy – football team.

Overall, and despite the apparent attempts of every bus driver to break the land speed record, our ride through northern Sudan has been a joy.

Sudan has also provided some winning camp spots.

Getting out

We made a cracking pace through Egypt, due in no small part to the excellent roads and favourable winds. Southern Egypt provided us some logistical challenges as we worked for permission to pass on roads without an escort, but persistence paid off and after signing our own indemnity we enjoyed some secluded riding through pretty unique and barren landscapes. We managed to improve our personal best by covering 270km within 24hours, to arrive exhausted into the warm welcome of Abu Simbel; a town on Lake Nasser that we will remember as much for its main Temple attraction, as the good folks of the town whom among other things, served up some fine fish dinners.

However, our lasting and quite fitting image of Egypt will be that of our two bicycles propped on their stands in front of the very final (unmanned) locked gate in the border crossing process. In what was never going to be a speedy affair, we had jumped through every hoop and collected every piece of seemingly superfluous paperwork, but still found ourselves agonisingly short of no-man’s land. As an ‘official’ (wearing a Barcelona football shirt – and who almost certainly didn’t play for them) resting in a broken plastic chair bellowed in vain for someone to open the padlock, we had almost lost the will to try anymore. After much gesticulation and waiting many ‘1-minutes’, a second official found the requisite key and shuffled over to release us from this farcical country. Phew.

Rude Awakening

One recurring feature which seems to dominate a journey of this nature is the uncertainty of where exactly each day will end. When not required to camp out, we frequently find ourselves settling for the night in some quite hideous establishments, which could claim only a very loose association with the hospitality industry. Occasionally however, we stumble upon an affordable and surprisingly excellent hotel in the centre of Luxor, boasting rooftop views of the captivating River Nile. This good fortune was particularly well timed, given that our patience with Egypt was starting to wear a little thin.

Rush hour in Cairo: not one for bicycles

Weaving along Cairo Ring road. Never again.

Traffic: All or nothing in Egypt.

Crossing the Eastern Desert.

After negotiating what is arguably the most unpleasant stretch of tarmac on which a bicycle could possibly be ridden (the Cairo ring road), we made a return to some hot and dry kilometres through the Eastern Desert along the Red Sea Coast; a stretch of coastline which is clearly of particular importance to the Egyptian authorities. An abrupt 6am wake-up call from our chosen camp spot, courtesy of the Egyptian Army, prompted an escort to the nearest barracks and set the tone for the week. The various military checkpoints during the days that followed hardly eased our anxiety, and didn’t exactly provide the warm welcome we’d hoped for. What’s more, the enduring and exhausting battles with the schemers and scammers at almost every junction of our daily routine made a swift exit south seem like the best outcome for all parties.

The Nile.

On a more positive note, a particularly boisterous tailwind helped deliver us to Luxor, which has provided not only a top-notch vista and an interesting saunter around the Valley of the Kings, but also a much needed haven to escape the chaos before the next onset.

Cheerio Cairo

Our feelings towards Cairo have been largely of indifference. Having been here a week, we have still yet to find anything that could reasonably pass for a city centre – and we have had plenty of time to look for one, from the discomfort of some incredibly slow moving traffic. Evidence of the recent political revolution remains present throughout the city, where the Kalashnikov-wielding teenage police force combine with the strategically poised armed vehicles to give the place an uncertain edgy feel, which in parts could easily be mistaken for the inside of a military compound.

Certainly, the pyramids have provided an awe-inspiring insight into what seemed to have been a tremendously intelligent and advanced civilisation. However, observing the pointy spectacle with the disjointed and frantic modern-day Cairo as its backdrop, you can’t help but feel that this city perhaps peaked around 4,000 years ago.

Holder of ‘world’s tallest building’ title, for around 3,800 years.

After a lesson from the Sudanese in how not to operate a foreign embassy, we have managed to secure a visa that will allow us to at least begin our journey southwards, assuming of course that we can find a way out of the Cairo sprawl.

Fellow Cairo cyclist.

Monks on the rocks

It’s pleasing to report that there has been more to Greece than just exquisite beaches, comforting food and a woeful economy. Central Greece provided some easy-going rolling hills through a relatively peaceful and picturesque part of the country, which delivered us ultimately to the implausible Meteora.

OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA

Metora is a collection of towering sandstone pillars that would have fallen comfortably in the category of ‘impressive place’, had they never been touched by human hands. The fact that a bunch of industrious, and remarkably ambitious, 14th century Greek Orthodox Monks decided to build a series of monasteries atop these things, has resulted in something quite spectacular. Nowadays the sandstone also provides some of Eastern Europe’s finest rock climbing, which leaves those of us claiming to be neither monk nor climber, observing one activity of sheer exertion and elation, ascending towards something completely different. Who’s to say who’s got it right?

Downtime to think about the Monks.

Our time in Athens has been split fairly evenly between recovery, preparation (for our next leg) and indulging in some of what the city has to offer. The stories of Zeus, Athena, Pericles and the Olympics have provided us with another millennium of history we previously knew very little about, with the surprise highlight for both of us being a shuffle around the new Acropolis museum, and the surprise lowlight for one of us being reminded (quite frequently) of the Elgin Marbles story. Our only real gripe of this city though, might be that the whole experience just doesn’t seem quite ancient enough. And when the ancient Greek civilisation isn’t quenching your historical thirst, there is really only one place left to go….

The original Olympic stadium, and home to the very first sub-3 marathon (1896).

Oh look, a tree.

The Greek home front.

End of our penultimate day in Europe.

The Greek slowdown

On one hand, cycling through Greece is very much like taking a cycle ride through an oil painting; you’re never too far away from a hillside olive plantation, a beautiful sandy cove or a picturesque terracotta-topped village. Indeed, this is an undeniably pretty country. On the other hand, it does seem a little rough around the edges at the moment.

Greece’s financial planners from the last decade have not exactly showered themselves in glory, and their politicians not stayed entirely free of ineptness or corruption charges. As a result, Greece took a particularly hard fall during the world economic meltdown, and the subsequent austerity measures have certainly not gone unnoticed for the carefree visitor to the country. Abundant empty shop fronts, partially completed buildings and abandoned industry make some areas feel rather like a hurricane passed through a few years ago and no one has bothered to return yet. Undoubtedly, a few jobs could be created to perhaps mend a fence (or two), cut the grass, or clean graffiti from all the road signs (though ironically, a sign which had escaped such vandalism was one that read: ‘semi-finished house for sale’). It would seem not so much that the purse strings have been tightened in this part of the world, rather that the purse strings have been rendered utterly useless by the enormous hole at the bottom of the purse.

Greece has a lot of…..

….Greece has a little of.

Our pace of riding has certainly tapered since crossing the border from Turkey, though we are thankfully still occasionally turning pedal, which is almost a prerequisite for a national cuisine where you either go full-fat or you go home. However, we’re hoping for a return to the old routine as we head towards Athens, a city which boasts even more history than the Bible – although encouragingly for the Athenians, theirs is a history based on actual events.