I woke up with another mosquito net but unfortunately i looked more like a sweaty castaway caught in an old fishing net then an angel emerging from heaven. Last night was hot and sticky and my mosquito net stunk and had huge holes in, so a comfortable night sleep it was not.
I seriously lacked motivation this morning. I've had this phase for about a week or so, probably since I left Addis. I know I'm always going to get some hard times and its specifically the time of the year but that doesn't stop me from thinking that I'm not really living to enjoy this ride. In footballing terms, coaches and pundits would describe it as "going through the motions."
I've tried so many things to keep me strong and they've worked but just enough to get me through a day at most or as I've said before, enough to "survive." Nobody said this ride was going to be easy and Ethiopia especially has taken a lot out of me but to keep me going for today at least, I asked for some kind of lift. I asked for something to happen that would change my lack of motivation. In the past its been the people I've spoken to, the things I've seen or the generosity I've received. Sometimes just writing this blog helps but today it was something quite different, quite different indeed.
I left the hotel at around 9am and within minutes I was in the thick of the mountains. I must've packed Nigel in auto pilot because I blinked as I was midway up a climb and it seemed to me that only seconds ago I was collapsed in a mess back at the hotel. It's like that feeling I'm sure we all get sometimes when we arrive at a common destination like work or home and don't really know how we got there. Anything could've happened between then and now, red traffic lights, random conversations etc well for me it would be more like crazy goats and chasing kids but either way, this morning started with me "going through the motions."
I'm taking this particular route based on the recommendation from 3 separate cyclists. It's longer and harder than the main road but today proved yet again that the harder, longer trails, more often than not, provide the best results. Today, the scenery was simply breathtaking and normally I tell myself how good it is whilst riding, today I couldn't find the words. (That's how beautiful it was) I was really in a land that not many people get the chance to see. The rolling hills with their staggered plantations were hand worked and you knew that every inch of the land had been tireless slaved over for generations. I was cycling up and down with shear amazement, I was taking things steady and enjoying every minute of it despite not knowing where I was going to end up and how long it would take me.
As i cycled through the tiny wooden villages, the people were wearing less clothes and some had more tribal attire (instead of the football shirt tribes, arsenal and chelsea being the most common) this gave me a real sense of wilderness that I was lapping up. Their reactions were different as well. The majority still shouted "you you you" " where you go" and "hilan hilan" but some now, especially the kids, were scared to see me. Some women that I put my hand up to wave to flinched or screamed in shock.
I'm not blaming this on Beirdre, I'm saying these people must very rarely see someone like myself. There were a few tour cars driving past but the locals wouldn't see them as much as they would only get out to take pictures. The presence of these tour cars made me feel a lot happier. It's not that I talk to them or spend any time with them it just gets very hard sometimes being the only tourist and on the bike especially, things can get very overpowering. Knowing that these tours were going to or coming from my intended destination just helped me with a bit of comfort and who knows, I may even stop at the same hotel as one of them!
As I continued to steadily eat up the hills and guzzle down the downslopes, I came to the crest of a hill where two tour cars had stopped to take pictures. The view was stunning and it made it even better that I could have an English conversation with some people about it. I met a family of 5, David, Joanna, Claire, Elise and Philip. I spoke to the dad David first and the realisation of getting that extra boost that I asked for this morning in the shape of 5 friendly Canadians really hit me emotionally and I found myself cracking. I held it together though as I'm sure in the "how to" book of first impressions, it tells you not to cry.
The family were lovely and we spoke for a while about what each other were doing etc. They were going to be in Turmi for two days which meant I could meet them if all went to plan on their second day. I didn't really know distances but I knew I was going to be passing through Turmi and knew there couldn't be much of Ethiopia left for me to cycle! We left with this as a possible plan and providing all went well with myself and Nigel, I had a nice target to aim for.
As I began my descent I felt the spring back in my step and could enjoy the scenery even more. Little boosts like that and the ones I've mentioned before have got me this far and will continue to get me to my goal I'm sure. They don't last long though and I knew I couldn't make Turmi in a day so I still needed things to develop and a mindset to contain.
The descent was winding and the road changed widths at will. I had to be careful as I had no idea what lurked around each corner or how tight each turn would be. As I picked up speed but nothing too crazy, I did well to manoeuvre past a huge herd of cattle and goats. The further down the hill I got, the more animals spread across the road. I took one corner well after moving out the way of a rogue cow and as I exited the left hand corner, the right hand side of the road turned to gravel. The road was very good but loose gravel sat on top of it turned it into a guaranteed bike buster.
I had nowhere to go and no choice but to take the hit. As the front wheel completely slipped away from underneath me I crashed onto the road spectacularly. I was probably doing about 30mph and myself and Nigel stayed attached as we slid a good 20 metres down the rough tarmac. The bags went flying, like a well designed crash dummy vehicle. My left arm and hand took the majority of the hit, followed by left knee and ankle. I lay there on the ground for a good 30 seconds checking all my vital organs and all Nigel's. Thankfully there were no cars coming either way and the kid that had her hand out begging just before I KO'd had skilfully side stepped out the way.
My water bottle had split on impact so water went everywhere and then continued to pour down the road, I was ok and at first glance the rack had survived and Nigel seemed ok. I eventually picked myself up and collected all the bags that were scattered behind me. My camera was in the handlebar bag and unfortunately took a big hit. It works, but not all the time, I'm gutted about that. The chain had come off so when I put him back on it was clear to see that the gear selector had taken a hit. This was also clear to hear as it ticked all the way and combining this with the spokes chinking and my bones clicking I had a right old one man band going on as I wobbled to the nearest town.
Luckily, after my stop with the Canadians, I knew the town wasn't far so I nursed noisy Nigel and my battered body about 15km to Woito. It took me minutes after the crash to work out that meeting the Canadians was not the change in motivation that I needed, it was the crash.
Now I'm not that messed in the head that I need to put myself through pain to feel things but recently my lack of motivation has been coupled with the fact my life doesn't feel real. Here I am in a completely different world, doing something that isn't exactly ordinary and all the time my family life and lives of friends are changing without me being there to experience it. This is a pretty strange feeling and makes me think that for the duration of this ride, I don't really have a stable "place" which can sometimes feel that I don't have a life.
Feeling pain and seeing blood gave me a massive check that I am human, what I'm doing is real and that my journey isn't about just "surviving" I'm actually living it. Unfortunately this lesson has come at the cost of a fully operational camera and gearset but I thank God that this is the only cost.
This notion may seem odd to people but you can only really understand what's it like to do what I'm doing if you do it yourself. It truly is an experience unlike anything else.
I found a nice rest stop at Woito that had rooms for truckers. I decided it was probably best to get some lunch, patch myself up, patch Nigel up and probably by that time I would be better off calling it a day. This was indeed the case as Nigel took a lot of time to sort out and its fair to say that his gears are stuffed. I've adjusted them so that for the majority of the gears I use, he doesn't make a noise but a couple of mm of chain movement from one way to the other and he's shake, rattling and rolling like an extra in "Grease."
My left glove and left shoe have nice war scars and the shoes will probably need to be changed but I will get to Nairobi first and see if I can find somewhere that can repair bikes and cyclists.
After a little wander around the town and a dinner of pasta, tomato sauce and bread, I thought it was a good idea to call it day and see if I can get up early tomorrow to still make it to Turmi. It's around 120km but I'm unsure of the state of the road so I will hopefully make it if I start early enough. I'm pretty sure my bruised body will think otherwise come the morning but my cuts and busted ankle will only remind me that I am alive, and what I'm doing is really happening!
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