24 January 2008 - Sudanese "roads"

We started cycling out of Wadi Halfa at 3 pm yesterday afternoon. It was a ridiculous effort of cycling. We left at three, had a blow-out at 3:15, had broken gears at 4pm, and another puncture and spoke issue at 4:30. I am learning that this is the way it falls in cycling. The sun was now on its way out and we needed to set up our first camp. The road comprised of a loose gravel track in between sand dunes that big oil tankers fly along kicking up lingering dust clouds. Vast expanses, a long road into the horizon, and the simple silhouette of a man on his bike – this is our first truly remote experience of North Africa.

The temperature plummeted at night and I found myself wearing four layers, plus a thermal top, longs and my cycling leg warmers inside my sleeping bag – and still cold. I woke up several times during the night and had the unpleasant feeling of knowing that there was little that I could do. Here’s hoping it doesn’t get colder! It is now 7 am and it is still dark – we are looking for that sunrise with subconscious resentment – it means destroying the caccoons, fixing the bikes, making breakfast, and getting back onto the road. The desert awaits: Day 2 in Sudan.

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We cycled 65 kilometers today and it felt tougher than the day we did 160km. We were cycling on a gravel road over the dunes. It is fairly thick sand a good proportion of the time. Loaded with food for 2 days and 9 liters of water each, the back tyre sinks into the sand and it is pretty difficult to keep upright. It is tough work and the concentration levels needed are pretty high.

We stopped at 4:30, having started at 10:30. 6 hours in the saddle. Only 65 kilometres. Camp is now set up, I cracked a little back massage, and now I lie in my quarters catching up on the day while the three Swedes help get our “kitchen” going. Trust our good fortune that they have decided to cycle with us for a while! Nino, Tim and Eric turned out to be expert bike and stove mechanics. Well, not experts, but they know a serious amount more than ourselves and have been a phenomenal help.

I have long been thinking of cycling in Sudan. It is the first thing that anyone asked in the build-up to this trip, and it has consumed plenty of my thoughts at night. I couldn’t help but be anxious of endless dust, no water, tough roads and the hostile situations within this country. From where I sit, in my tent at the end of day 2, this country appears expansive, remote, dry and dusty, but far removed from the throes of any political tensions. Life appears to be the epitome of peace – vast and quiet. The odd passing oil truck hoots, welcoming us to his world, but it shocks me how far removed I feel to global politics, big business, families and friends, let alone war-torn Darfur.

I am often quizzed about being the only girl on the team. My response has been vague, and often brushed over, because I simply don’t know how I feel. Sometimes I think it is great and I feel physically strong and an integral part of the team. At other times I feel a little helpless – just needing a little bit of TLC, a good bath, a dress, some frivolous fun and a party with the girls! It is nothing that a couple of hours on my own wouldn’t cure, but that is like white gold itself. I have stumbled into a man’s world.

A dinner of bully beef, pasta and green peppers awaits us. What was once merely tinned food that one wouldn’t touch with a ten-foot barge pole, is now classed as “tasty cuisine.”