I believe last time I updated I was in southern Egypt and having difficulties with my rear wheel, it was essential to get it replaced before I caught the ferry from Aswan down to Wadi Halfa to begin the Nubian Desert road 900km to Khartoum. There was also a time constraint as if I missed the ferry whilst waiting for a wheel then I would have to wait a week for the next one and this would mean my Sudanese visa would expire before I could cycle through. In the end the only way to get a wheel to me in time was to have a friend fly out to Egypt with it so I was joined in Aswan for a day and a half by my lovely ex-girlfriend Jenny who was kind enough to donate her weekend to sit on planes in order to bring me a wheel.
I got the bike back to 100% functionality and prepared for the ferry that would take 24 hours and go from the metropolis of Aswan to the tiny desert town of Wadi Halfa in Northern Sudan. Words cant really describe the noise and chaos of the customs and immigration to get onto that ferry, about 1500 people packed into a space meant for 500 all pushing and jostling to get their goods checked and passports stamped at the single window at the end of the hall, I was trying to get through all of this with a fully loaded bicycle!
I got through finally and managed to set my tent up on the deck of the ferry and chained my bike to a railing. I whiled away the evening reading, watching lake Nasser go by and chatting to other travelers about the highs and lows of Egypt and plans for Sudan. Around 11 the next morning the boat turned towards the shore, 'but why' I thought, 'theres nothing there!'. This was the 'town' of Wadi Halfa, marked as a major centre on the map it was nothing more than a collection of predominantly mud brick buildings with no real streets.
By chance I had stayed in the same hotel as two Swedish cyclists, Daniel and Patrick in Aswan and we made plans to cycle the desert together. We checked into the Wadi Halfa Hotel. It was very basic but a 1 pound thirty pence it was a personal best for price! The next morning was 'aliens registration' (us being the aliens) which was hilarious! It involved about 2 hours, an unending number of stamps, photographs and forms and going back to the same office no less than 5 times after you had completed each small task.
That afternoon the three of us departed Wadi Halfa to start the desert road of 900+ km to the capital, Khartoum. The start was a miserable failure as Patrick, who had already suffered 2 punctures during the 30km from Aswan city to Aswan port got 2 more on our first afternoon cycling in Sudan and then whilst trying to make up time Daniel managed to cycle into me causing a crash that ended with his foot through my front wheel damaging it and causing it to rotate in a very erratic manner. I couldn’t believe it, I had only 48 hours earlier fixed my wheel troubles and now the front was in trouble, not only that but I was at the very start of a 950km barren desert run with barely any shops let alone bike shops and I would need a professional to fix it properly. We camped after barely 15km and the mood was dark. I spent a couple of hours tuning the spokes of my wheel and got it to rotate a little better, lucky it wasn’t the rear which takes most of the load.
At first it was as though my body had trouble adapting to the heat, there was a very noticeable step up in temperature from Egypt. Not only was the temperature pushing towards 40 degrees but there was nowhere to stop and find food or water and for the first two days no real shade on offer to escape the sun. The newly completed road meant that pace was good but we were far removed from the villages along the Nile and the positives they offer (shade, food etc). On and off the bike my heart raced telling me my body wasn’t taking this work lightly.
On the fourth morning Patrick realized that his rear wheels bearings were in shot and he would be unable to continue without getting the right parts. He and Daniel decided to take the bus and I continued solo, that day proved to be a long one, once we had finally decided a plan of action it was past 10.30 and the sun was already high in the sky and I would have to get going if I was to make it to Dongola that night (135km down the road). I cycled into the heat of the day and soon needed food and shade. I made for what was the only village in the area marked on the map, this involved a 4km road that was almost entirely loose sand, a surface that a bike is completely useless in. So having pushed my 50kg bike 4km I found the only shop and it turned out to be closed. After resting for a short while a asked if there was a quicker way back to the road or a path that wasn’t sandy, unfortunately I couldn’t really convey this in Arabic and no one in the village could really understand me. The road they eventually pointed me down turned out to be 6km of even looser sand. By the time I got to Dongola I was a sorry looking sight, it didn’t help that the Swedes had had a comfy bus ride and had spent most of the day in an air-conditioned internet cafe!
After Dongola my friends took the bus again leaving me to my own devices, I tried to look at this as a positive thinking that I could go at my own pace and could make my own decisions but truthfully I was pretty daunted by the idea of 500km on my own with limited water supplies through some of the most barren terrain in northern Africa. I decided my way of getting through this would be that if I could complete a decent number of miles in the morning, rest through the oppressive heat of the day and push it late into the night I could get further per day and arrive in Khartoum a day early. Now im not racing to Cape Town but where water was limited and the conditions difficult I was happy to concentrate on the cycling and make sure that I arrived in good time and in one piece. It was 520km from Dongola to Khartoum and was certainly the hardest thing I have ever done.
I left Dongola in the afternoon and made it 70km before the first of 4 wild camps on the road to Khartoum. Whilst unpacking my sleeping bag I looked down to see a small white scorpion scuttling across my tent floor. I learnt while in Africa last time that the smaller the scorpion the more deadly so I decided he would be sleeping elsewhere that night! The next day at lunchtime I filled up with water for what would be the last time before Khartoum. Using lots of different containers I managed to strap around 19 litres of water to my bike. This made the bike significantly heavier and it didnt help that all afternoon and the next morning I encountered strong headwinds. Progress was painfully slow, it sapped me of all my energy and made me jumpy concerning my water ration. Luckily the wind abated and cycling into the night I made it 150km that day.
When I woke the next day the view was incredible. As far as the eye could see there was nothing. Just sand, sand, a bit more sand and a thin strip of asphalt stretching from horizon to horizon. I dont want to go on and on about how hard it was but the thing that really bent my mind out of shape was the long straight roads, when all you can see is the road stretching away to the horizon and theres nothing to look sat but endless sand it leaves precious little else for the mind to contemplate but how much you are hurting and how far you are from the next shower, rest and cold coca cola. On the third evening in the desert I found it really hard to get into the right mental zone. Every few kilometers I would coast to the side of the road and pause until I built up the drive to start again, I just couldnt keep sustained forward momentum for very long. The next morning I found it equally hard to find a good tempo and progress was painfully slow. I planned to make Khartoum by lunch but by 12 o clock I was only just over half way. The markers on the side of the road were counting down to 0 which I was told was Khartoum. In the heat of the afternoon I reached the zero marker but this turned out to be the very outside of Omdurman, a neighboring city. It was a furthur 45km to the centre of Khartoum and by the time I arrived at the campsite I was completely physically and mentally finished. I showered and put up my tent and caught up with some friends I had met on the Aswan ferry and we went out to dinner but very quickly I began to feel absolutely terrible, the last time I felt that bad it was for the reason that I am back fundraising for. Whether it was heat exhaustion, lack of sleep, lack of food, dehydration or a mix of the lot it would be 6 days of rest before I began to feel normal again.
I clearly set off from Khartoum too soon as I would suffer for an extra four days on the road to the Ethiopian Border. It was more of the same, desert with long straight roads but with the added 'fun' of homicidal buses tearing up and down the road which at best is one and three quarter lanes wide. They were constantly overtaking and saw me as a disposable item, if I was in their path then no matter, Ill would surely move if they simply drove straight at me at 80 miles an hour!
After 5 days I reached the Ethiopian border and the end of both the desert and Sudan, I was beginning to feel better but the weight loss was telling, Sudan had been tough on me. Scales told me I had lost 12% of my body weight since London, I was lucky that I had it to loose and that time put in at the Christmas dinner table had paid dividends!
Im now in Ethiopia but news of that will have to wait until next month when I reach Nairobi and the end of Leg 2.
Some fantastic news since my last update, we reached the preliminary target of 5000 pounds and I have set a new target on 10,000 which would buy an incredible 2000 insecticide treated mosquito nets, I know it can be done. The reason we’ve come so far is people not only being very generous themselves but then spreading the message of my journey and its purpose by email, phone, newspaper, website, facebook, twitter and good old word of mouth. Please keep up the good work!
As usual if you have any questions, worries, fears for my safety, friends en route, fact, places to visit or encouragement which is always appreciated please direct it to this email address or to my mobile +447590 840456 which I always have on me.
I got the bike back to 100% functionality and prepared for the ferry that would take 24 hours and go from the metropolis of Aswan to the tiny desert town of Wadi Halfa in Northern Sudan. Words cant really describe the noise and chaos of the customs and immigration to get onto that ferry, about 1500 people packed into a space meant for 500 all pushing and jostling to get their goods checked and passports stamped at the single window at the end of the hall, I was trying to get through all of this with a fully loaded bicycle!
I got through finally and managed to set my tent up on the deck of the ferry and chained my bike to a railing. I whiled away the evening reading, watching lake Nasser go by and chatting to other travelers about the highs and lows of Egypt and plans for Sudan. Around 11 the next morning the boat turned towards the shore, 'but why' I thought, 'theres nothing there!'. This was the 'town' of Wadi Halfa, marked as a major centre on the map it was nothing more than a collection of predominantly mud brick buildings with no real streets.
By chance I had stayed in the same hotel as two Swedish cyclists, Daniel and Patrick in Aswan and we made plans to cycle the desert together. We checked into the Wadi Halfa Hotel. It was very basic but a 1 pound thirty pence it was a personal best for price! The next morning was 'aliens registration' (us being the aliens) which was hilarious! It involved about 2 hours, an unending number of stamps, photographs and forms and going back to the same office no less than 5 times after you had completed each small task.
That afternoon the three of us departed Wadi Halfa to start the desert road of 900+ km to the capital, Khartoum. The start was a miserable failure as Patrick, who had already suffered 2 punctures during the 30km from Aswan city to Aswan port got 2 more on our first afternoon cycling in Sudan and then whilst trying to make up time Daniel managed to cycle into me causing a crash that ended with his foot through my front wheel damaging it and causing it to rotate in a very erratic manner. I couldn’t believe it, I had only 48 hours earlier fixed my wheel troubles and now the front was in trouble, not only that but I was at the very start of a 950km barren desert run with barely any shops let alone bike shops and I would need a professional to fix it properly. We camped after barely 15km and the mood was dark. I spent a couple of hours tuning the spokes of my wheel and got it to rotate a little better, lucky it wasn’t the rear which takes most of the load.
At first it was as though my body had trouble adapting to the heat, there was a very noticeable step up in temperature from Egypt. Not only was the temperature pushing towards 40 degrees but there was nowhere to stop and find food or water and for the first two days no real shade on offer to escape the sun. The newly completed road meant that pace was good but we were far removed from the villages along the Nile and the positives they offer (shade, food etc). On and off the bike my heart raced telling me my body wasn’t taking this work lightly.
On the fourth morning Patrick realized that his rear wheels bearings were in shot and he would be unable to continue without getting the right parts. He and Daniel decided to take the bus and I continued solo, that day proved to be a long one, once we had finally decided a plan of action it was past 10.30 and the sun was already high in the sky and I would have to get going if I was to make it to Dongola that night (135km down the road). I cycled into the heat of the day and soon needed food and shade. I made for what was the only village in the area marked on the map, this involved a 4km road that was almost entirely loose sand, a surface that a bike is completely useless in. So having pushed my 50kg bike 4km I found the only shop and it turned out to be closed. After resting for a short while a asked if there was a quicker way back to the road or a path that wasn’t sandy, unfortunately I couldn’t really convey this in Arabic and no one in the village could really understand me. The road they eventually pointed me down turned out to be 6km of even looser sand. By the time I got to Dongola I was a sorry looking sight, it didn’t help that the Swedes had had a comfy bus ride and had spent most of the day in an air-conditioned internet cafe!
After Dongola my friends took the bus again leaving me to my own devices, I tried to look at this as a positive thinking that I could go at my own pace and could make my own decisions but truthfully I was pretty daunted by the idea of 500km on my own with limited water supplies through some of the most barren terrain in northern Africa. I decided my way of getting through this would be that if I could complete a decent number of miles in the morning, rest through the oppressive heat of the day and push it late into the night I could get further per day and arrive in Khartoum a day early. Now im not racing to Cape Town but where water was limited and the conditions difficult I was happy to concentrate on the cycling and make sure that I arrived in good time and in one piece. It was 520km from Dongola to Khartoum and was certainly the hardest thing I have ever done.
I left Dongola in the afternoon and made it 70km before the first of 4 wild camps on the road to Khartoum. Whilst unpacking my sleeping bag I looked down to see a small white scorpion scuttling across my tent floor. I learnt while in Africa last time that the smaller the scorpion the more deadly so I decided he would be sleeping elsewhere that night! The next day at lunchtime I filled up with water for what would be the last time before Khartoum. Using lots of different containers I managed to strap around 19 litres of water to my bike. This made the bike significantly heavier and it didnt help that all afternoon and the next morning I encountered strong headwinds. Progress was painfully slow, it sapped me of all my energy and made me jumpy concerning my water ration. Luckily the wind abated and cycling into the night I made it 150km that day.
When I woke the next day the view was incredible. As far as the eye could see there was nothing. Just sand, sand, a bit more sand and a thin strip of asphalt stretching from horizon to horizon. I dont want to go on and on about how hard it was but the thing that really bent my mind out of shape was the long straight roads, when all you can see is the road stretching away to the horizon and theres nothing to look sat but endless sand it leaves precious little else for the mind to contemplate but how much you are hurting and how far you are from the next shower, rest and cold coca cola. On the third evening in the desert I found it really hard to get into the right mental zone. Every few kilometers I would coast to the side of the road and pause until I built up the drive to start again, I just couldnt keep sustained forward momentum for very long. The next morning I found it equally hard to find a good tempo and progress was painfully slow. I planned to make Khartoum by lunch but by 12 o clock I was only just over half way. The markers on the side of the road were counting down to 0 which I was told was Khartoum. In the heat of the afternoon I reached the zero marker but this turned out to be the very outside of Omdurman, a neighboring city. It was a furthur 45km to the centre of Khartoum and by the time I arrived at the campsite I was completely physically and mentally finished. I showered and put up my tent and caught up with some friends I had met on the Aswan ferry and we went out to dinner but very quickly I began to feel absolutely terrible, the last time I felt that bad it was for the reason that I am back fundraising for. Whether it was heat exhaustion, lack of sleep, lack of food, dehydration or a mix of the lot it would be 6 days of rest before I began to feel normal again.
I clearly set off from Khartoum too soon as I would suffer for an extra four days on the road to the Ethiopian Border. It was more of the same, desert with long straight roads but with the added 'fun' of homicidal buses tearing up and down the road which at best is one and three quarter lanes wide. They were constantly overtaking and saw me as a disposable item, if I was in their path then no matter, Ill would surely move if they simply drove straight at me at 80 miles an hour!
After 5 days I reached the Ethiopian border and the end of both the desert and Sudan, I was beginning to feel better but the weight loss was telling, Sudan had been tough on me. Scales told me I had lost 12% of my body weight since London, I was lucky that I had it to loose and that time put in at the Christmas dinner table had paid dividends!
Im now in Ethiopia but news of that will have to wait until next month when I reach Nairobi and the end of Leg 2.
Some fantastic news since my last update, we reached the preliminary target of 5000 pounds and I have set a new target on 10,000 which would buy an incredible 2000 insecticide treated mosquito nets, I know it can be done. The reason we’ve come so far is people not only being very generous themselves but then spreading the message of my journey and its purpose by email, phone, newspaper, website, facebook, twitter and good old word of mouth. Please keep up the good work!
As usual if you have any questions, worries, fears for my safety, friends en route, fact, places to visit or encouragement which is always appreciated please direct it to this email address or to my mobile +447590 840456 which I always have on me.
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